Anonymous Comrade writes:

"A Platformist Response to 'Post-Anarchism':

Sucking the Golden Egg: A Reply to Newman"

Zabalaza Anarchist Communist Federation of Southern Africa

Comrades: The following is a response by the zabalaza
anarchist communist federation (zacf) of southern
africa to an article by saul newman entitled
"anarchism and the politics of ressentiment" which is
online at: here.
Red & Black Regards, Michael Schmidt (Acting
International Secretary, ZACF, Johannesburg)

In the midst of the establishment's persistent refusal
to understand anarchism, of its constant attempts to
portray us as a bunch of violent lunatics; in the face
of continual misrepresentations by the Marxists, of
their efforts to portray us as a petty-bourgeois
movement that rejects organisation and can never be
truly revolutionary; in the face of all this
systematic misunderstanding and refusal to engage, it
is a relief to encounter a piece of criticism that
makes some attempt to understand what anarchism is
about, notes some of our good points, offers (mostly)
coherent and (as far as I know) original arguments,
and at least attempts to present itself as making
constructive proposals. Nonetheless, I wish to argue
that Saul Newman's article ' Anarchism and the
Politics of Ressentiment' is based on a fundamental
misunderstanding of anarchism, and that its proposals
amount to a rejection of the real point of our
movement.It will not surprise the reader to learn that Newman's
article belongs to the postmodernist tradition -- or
perhaps one should say the 'post-ist' tradition
generally, since he identifies his proposals as
'post-anarchism'. He draws extensively on Foucault
(although the main source of his criticism is
Nietzsche) and, in the best fragmentary post-ist
manner ends up explicitly rejecting a general movement
to change society, and implicitly rejecting any
general theoretical social criticism as well. In
places his writing suffers from the obscurity
characteristic of postmodernist work, but he is not
nearly as bad as some others. In short, his article is
a good example of the theoretical and practical
inadequacy of post-ism.

Newman illustrates his (mis)understanding of anarchist
thought with extensive quotations from Bakunin and
Kropotkin. I could take the time to find many other
quotes to refute his interpretation, but this would be
beside the point for several reasons. For one thing,
it is always possible to distort a text through
selective quotation; arguing from isolated quotes
might go on forever. It is better to let the authors
speak for themselves - particularly in the case of
Bakunin and Kropotkin whom I have always found fairly
easy to read. From the point of view of plain
understanding it always amazes me how drastically they
have been misinterpreted; but after a while one gets
tired of stating the obvious. Again, we know that
Bakunin and Kropotkin have made serious errors, but
these do not invalidate the tradition of anarchist
thought which they founded. Even if they were guilty
of everything Newman accuses them of, while this might
mean that most subsequent anarchists are either
completely misreading Bakunin and Kropotkin or missing
out important aspects of their ideas, we still remain
rooted in an intellectual tradition which, I maintain,
is immune to Newman's attacks and would be undermined
by his supposed remedies. It is this tradition, rather
than Bakunin and Kropotkin as individuals, that I wish
to defend. I must add that the intellectual tradition
is intimately linked to a great tradition of struggle
and revolutionary practice, a link which I will show
Newman almost completely ignores.

The core of Newman's argument is as follows: Anarchism
is infected with 'ressentiment', a concept drawn from
Nietzsche, and definable as 'moral prejudice of the
powerless against the powerful'. This manifests itself
in anarchist thought as hostility to power in general
and the state in particular; Newman contrasts this
with the Marxist emphasis on class and economics, but
maintains that anarchism has fallen into a similar
trap. Anarchism, he says, is based on a positive view
of human nature as essentially social and co-operative
(an element which he rightly contrasts with social
contract theories). He maintains that we root our
struggle to destroy the state in this essentially
moral human subjectivity. While acknowledging that
this ethical approach might have value independently
of the struggle against the state, Newman holds that
the contrast between state and power on the one hand,
and co-operative society and human subjectivity on the
other, is naive in that it fails to assimilate the
understanding (found in Nietzsche and Foucault) that
power is ubiquitous in human life and that opposing it
is futile even if we wanted to. He allows for a
contrast between power and domination, which,
following Foucault, he defines, not very helpfully, as
congealed power. Domination can be resisted, but it is
still too closely related to power to be utterly
defeated. In particular, it is futile to hope for the
revolutionary destruction of the state; this hope
depends on a Manichean dream of getting rid of
domination, and is likely to end up negating itself
and turning into a new form of oppression. Instead, he
advocates 'post-anarchism', which seems to consist in
an application of anarchist ideas -- perhaps most
particularly mutual aid, but freed from 'essentialist'
ideas about human nature; also the link between
liberty and equality, which liberals wrongly see as
being opposed to each other -- in opposition to
particular instances of domination in everyday life,
but without revolutionary dreams.

An important feature of Newman's argument is his
recognition of the anarchist emphasis on the social
and co-operative nature of human beings, a key aspect
of our thinking which cruder critics tend to ignore or
over-hastily dismiss. But even his understanding of
this element is deeply flawed. To begin with, he
rather curiously locates Stirnerite individualism
within the anarchist current, although it should be
obvious that an approach that emphasises the
individual at the expense of mutual aid is
incompatible with anarchist social theory as he, and
we, understand it. This suggests that he has
momentarily fallen into the common error of
identifying as anarchist any theory that stands in
opposition to the state. This is curious since Newman,
like many others, puts anarchism in contrast to
Marxism; but Marxists also tend to regard the state as
oppressive and believe that it will eventually have to
go (however much they insist that it can be used in
the short term). Such a crude emphasis on opposition
to the stat e is often associated with a failure to
recognise the distinctive anarchist intellectual
tradition. But although Newman shows signs of making
this error, he is not as guilty of it as some others;
nor is it the deepest flaw in his argument.

A more important question is how we understand the
principle of the social nature of humanity, the
'optimistic conception of human nature'. On the one
hand, Newman attributes to us the view (drawn from
Kropotkin) that 'the natural and essential principle
of human society is mutual aid, and that man is
naturally cooperative, sociable and altruistic, rather
than competitive and egotistic.' On the other hand, he
subsequently notes that Bakunin identifies a 'natural
lust for power' as a feature of all human beings.
Newman identifies these elements as signs of a
contradiction in anarchist thought, or perhaps an
indication that Bakunin had dimly seen something that
undermines our whole perspective of human nature, and
with it our entire political approach. Newman thinks
that our view of human nature, while it has some
value, is nonetheless a major flaw in our thinking as
it stands. But is he correct?

Many social and political theorists have played fast
and loose with notions of human nature -- usually
taking an egoistic approach in support of
authoritarian theories. No doubt many anarchists have
been guilty of a mirror image of the same error; or of
related errors like Malatesta's teleological view that
society is 'tending towards a goal' of greater
co-operation and solidarity. But such approaches are
no more intrinsic to anarchism than is historical
determinism. It seems to me that the core of the
anarchist position on these matters consists in (a) a
rejection of egoistic theories of human nature; and
(b) the view that human nature is essentially social.
The latter element implies a natural capacity for
co-operation and mutual aid; it does not imply that
humans are entirely altruistic or that egoistic
elements, lust for power and the like, are completely
absent. I should add that one can expect the relative
predominance of these elements to be influenced by the
character of the society we live in. It is in relation
to this perspective that I wish to examine Newman's
criticisms.

To begin with, what does this perspective imply for
Newman's claim that anarchist resistance is primarily
rooted in human moral subjectivity? I should first
point out that Newman's thesis involves a
misunderstanding that is linked to his exaggeration of
our differences with Marx. He correctly points out
that we place far more emphasis on the state, and
direct far more of our fire against it, than the
Marxists do; that we make no absolute claim that it is
subordinate to class interests; and that we firmly
reject the Marxist view that the state might be turned
to revolutionary purposes. But his claim that 'Rather
than working from the society to the State -- and
seeing the State as the derivative of economic
relations - anarchists work from the State to society'
is a caricature of our approach. After all, anarchists
since Bakunin have attacked private property,
capitalism and the bourgeoisie as fiercely as we have
attacked the state. If we do not usually accept simple
economic determinism of the Marxist kind, we do
generally hold that the state and the ruling class are
intimately related; and I would want to claim, as I
think would most anarchists, that the relationship
works in both directions. Newman alludes to Bakunin's
(correct) prediction that the establishment of a
Marxist 'workers' state' would lead to the
transformation of the 'revolutionary vanguard' into a
new ruling class; we would certainly agree that this
is not the only instance of state power giving rise to
class oppression; but we must also recognise that a
ruling class does need a state to hold on to power;
and we can present numerous instances of states acting
in the immediate economic interests of the
bourgeoisie. It is for these reasons that class
struggle, contra Newman, is central to anarchist
theory -- and even more central to anarchist practice.

Newman, then, is incorrect in denying the importance
of the class distinction in anarchist theory. It is
certainly true that the state/society distinction also
plays an important role, particularly in Kropotkin;
there is even a grain of truth in the claim that
resistance is rooted in human subjectivity. We do
maintain that the capacity for mutual aid and
solidarity, and the love of freedom, are important
elements in human nature and manifest themselves
spontaneously in a great variety of circumstances;
forms of organisation appropriate to anarchism
frequently emerge among people without any background
in our ideas. But I see no evidence that we have ever
made this the sole basis of our resistance. We believe
that the class struggle and the experience of
oppression compel the oppressed to resist their
oppressors; that this struggle itself teaches the
oppressed the need for revolutionary change, and
enables them to build in their organs of struggle the
forms and structures of a better society; that
struggle itself contributes to the development of
subjectivity; in short, that resistance is rooted both
in subjectivity and in objective conditions. To say
otherwise is a travesty of our theories; even worse,
it is a travesty of our practical experience of a
century of struggle throughout the world.

As for the claims that 'The State is essential to the
existence of revolutionary subject, just as the
revolutionary subject is essential to the existence of
the State', and that 'Without this stultifying
oppression, the anarchist subject would be unable to
see itself as 'moral' and 'rational'', they are worse
than a travesty; they are mere sophistry. Sure, if no
state had ever existed, we would not have to make a
big issue of opposing states, and would probably not
define ourselves as 'an-archists'; but people could
still hold similar positive views about liberty,
equality, and mutual aid, and how to organise society
to promote these aims. Again, if and when we do
succeed in destroying the state, opposing it may no
longer be our biggest priority, but that will
certainly not negate the value of our ideas in
general. The fact that anarchist thought originated in
response to state and class oppression does not mean
that it is defined by oppression; and it certainly
does not change the fact that oppression is the main
obstacle to the achievement of our goals.

This brings me to the question of revolution, and to
Newman's point that 'To abolish central institutions
like the State with one stroke would be to neglect the
multiform and diffuse relations of power they are
based on, thus allowing new institutions and relations
of domination to rise up.' I should start by noting
that the danger of new institutions of domination
arising out of revolution is hardly one of which
anarchists are unaware; we have seen Newman himself
noting that Bakunin raised such concerns in response
to Marx -- and it is precisely in rejection of Marxist
methods that we do propose to abolish the state.
However, it is indeed true that if the main action of
the anarchist revolution was to 'abolish the state at
one stroke' without dealing with all sorts of other
concerns, the defeat of the revolution would be pretty
near inevitable. Fortunately, though, anarchists have
thought quite a bit more deeply than this.

Newman's charge is that the main focus of the
anarchist revolution is the destruction of political
power. It is ironic that Marxists have frequently
accused us of neglecting political power in the
revolutionary context -- presumably because of a
background assumption that immediate destruction of
political power is unthinkable and that the thing to
do with it is take it and use it. They think that
rejection of political power can only lead to a
failure to understand it. Their charge is nonsensical,
in some way even more so than Newman, but at least
they attempt to find an example to support their case.
Their favourite reference is to the Spanish revolution
of 1936, when several prominent anarchists accepted
high government positions instead of recognizing the
Popular Front government as an oppressor and a class
enemy. The Marxists like to claim that this step was
somehow a consequence of anarchist principles, of
'anarchist misunderstandings of the state' or some
such. Of course if anarchists had joined a 'workers'
government' controlled by Lenin it would have been a
totally different matter! Nonsense. The entry into
government was a blatant violation of anarchist
principles, and was recognized as such by more
committed anarchists both at the time and afterwards.
But the Marxist nonsense is really no more nonsensical
than Newman's interpretation.

Notice that I refer to the Spanish revolution even
though the state was not destroyed, and even though
our struggle was ultimately defeated. The point is
that revolutions do not consist simply in the
destruction of the state. In Spain workers seized
factories, peasants took over the land, militias were
established for self-defence, and production was at
least partly restructured on a basis of mutual aid.
Although this happened in a short period (mostly late
1936, after which reactionary forces took the
offensive) it was a product of decades of struggle and
preparation. Such has been anarchist practice in every
revolution where we played a major part: in Ukraine,
in Mexico, in Manchuria. Such has been the aim of our
practice in the many movements that have never yet
come close to revolution. And such is not only our
practice but our theory as well. To take just one
example, Kropotkin in The Conquest of Bread devotes at
least as much emphasis to the rebuilding of society
and production as to the actual defeat of the
oppressor. And we have always emphasised that this
rebuilding does not begin with the defeat of the
state, but is integral to the way we organise our
forces of struggle long before the revolution. The
bottom-up, grassroots organisation of these forces,
'controlled by the workers themselves', is intended as
the key antidote to a re-emergence of oppression and
domination, of state and class.

Not that we necessarily see revolution as
automatically opening the door to a perfect society
free from power and domination. On the contrary,
Kropotkin notes that we can expect post-revolutionary
society to vary considerably in different places; it
is fair to assume that some communities will continue
to have serious problems. This is confirmed by the
fact that Kropotkin does not regard the anarchist
revolution as a totally exceptional event. Instead, he
regards revolutions as unusual but not utterly
anomalous shifts in the general evolution of society.
And surely this perspective is borne out by history.
Revolutions have happened before, and only the most
hidebound end-of-history theorist would suggest that
they will not happen again. They are often violent and
have many destructive features, but can also have
valuable consequences. I do not think many people
would want to deny that we are better off for 1789,
even if the system that emerged as a result of 1789 is
the system we are now fighting against. (This does not
mean that we accept the Marxist view that the rise of
capitalism was an inevitable and necessary precursor
of communism; anarchists are usually not historical
determinists; but we can recognise that however
terrible capitalism is there were also some important
gains for ordinary people in the course of its rise to
power. It is simplistic to view 1789 only as a
bourgeois revolution.)

Newman might now retort that I have given away too
much. What, he might ask, is the point of
revolutionary anarchism, without the thesis that human
nature is essentially and only co-operative, and
without the view that the revolutionary destruction of
the state will usher in a perfect society where this
nature can be fully realised? And if not for the sake
of the perfect society, why are we so determined to
destroy the state in the first place? Here he might
again throw at us the point, drawn from Foucault, that
'Assemblages such as the State are based on unstable
power relations that can just as easily turn against
the institution they form the basis of.' But such a
reply would be a distortion of the point of anarchism
as well as of history in general. Some anarchists
have, indeed, made deep metaphysical attacks on the
state, or posed the question, 'Why do we need
government anyway?' But this sort of approach, while
not without value, is not the core of the anarchist
critique. We reject the state because in real life, in
history, it is almost always oppressive. If there is
metaphysics involved it is in the positive aspect --
the view that we can get on without the state -- but
even there we can be a lot more modest than Newman and
other critics like to portray us. Post-ists like to
talk dismissively about general theories, and prefer
to focus on the particular; but where can Foucault
give us an example of the unstable power relations on
which the state is based turning against the state. We
don't want to say this can never happen, just that it
usually doesn't, and that an 'anti-theoretical' or
'particularistic' claim that it does is really just as
theoretical and abstract as any of our views.

Let me try to illustrate our view of the state, and
many other concerns Newman raises about our struggles,
by means of a simple analogy. Many men beat their
wives; it is obvious that the wives suffer from this;
but many of us would maintain that the men who do this
are also degrading themselves, losing out, at least,
on what they could gain from a more positive, loving,
respectful relationship. It is also well known that
many women go along with the abuse, accept it, decline
chances to end it, even perhaps encourage it in some
ways -- in short, they are complicit in it. None of
this changes the fact that an end to the abuse is both
possible and desirable. We might add that it is
desirable for both parties, and that ending it would
bring out the better aspects of both their natures;
but of course there are many cases when the woman
wants to end it but the man, the dominant party, keeps
it going -- sometimes while promising to end it and
perpetually apologising only to start again the next
day. In many such cases the only option available to
the woman is to leave. And when she leaves her life is
not perfect but is a lot better than it was before.

This does not sound like philosophy or deep social
theory, and might not earn the respect of Newman or
tons of other theorists. But is humanity not at least
approximately divided into powerful oppressors and
powerless victims of oppression? Anarchists hold that
all, including the rulers, are degraded by this
situation; we recognise that the oppressed are often
complicit; we also know that the rulers sometimes
apologise and express the intention to improve matters
in the future; and yet it goes on. Unfortunately it is
not open to the oppressed to pack up and leave the
planet; nor can we send our rulers into exile, even if
we wanted to give them the chance to inflict
themselves on the Martians. The one option open to us
is to strive to end their rule, and in the course of
this struggle to build the structures for a better
world (not a perfect world) and to guard ourselves
against the return of tyranny. And these efforts are
born from our actual situation rather than from some
abstract subjectivity.

Newman focuses his critique on abstract theories
instead of looking at our practice. He fails to
recognise the integration between the two; fails also
to recognise that anarchists do not claim a leading or
vanguard role for theorists, but draw their theories
from practice and insist on people's ability to
liberate themselves. He talks of 'ressentiment' as an
abstract concept, not seeing that we oppose our rulers
not out of envy or inferiority complex, but because
they are oppressing us and we would be better off
without them. So he insists that we turn away from
revolution because he doesn't see what we mean by it,
because it's dangerous and because it can't deliver
something we don't generally expect it to deliver. He
then makes some obscure comments about 'eternal
return' -- the one point at which I totally failed to
see what he was getting at, though perhaps this could
be remedied -- before attempting to make some positive
suggestions. He urges us to 'envisage a form of
political community or collective identity that [does]
not restrict difference' -- as if we hadn't been doing
that all along! (Compare Kropotkin's insistence on the
diversity of post-revolutionary society.) Maybe there
are specific points he has in mind in terms of
extending our approach to such matters; but then he
should give details. I do not think even this opening
is available in the case of his call for the
'construction of new forms of collective action and
identities'. Nothing has been more central to
anarchist theory and practice since the time of
Bakunin. We are constantly debating and experimenting
with many different forms of organisation, both in
struggle and for mutual aid for our immediate needs. I
do not know of any other movement that has been as
innovative in this area. So after asking us to throw
out a central aspect of our practice, Newman advocates
another central aspect as if it was something new.

In calling himself a post-anarchist, Newman seems to
identify anarchism as something like his intellectual
grandmother. But he is not content only to teach his
grandmother to suck eggs. Without taking any note of
what she's been saying and doing for over a hundred
years, he walks up to her and says, 'Granny, you're
obviously suffering from the illusion that the yolks
of these eggs are made of gold. This is why you've
been going around smashing them. Now I may at some
point give you some suggestions on how to suck eggs;
but for now remember that, not only is the yolk not
made of gold, but you'll never get to it anyway; all
you can do is suck the white.' Admittedly this is not
as bad as those who accuse Granny of trying to eat the
shell and throw the yolk away, or those who say the
eggs are all empty anyway; but that is the kind of
help Newman is offering. All Granny can do is go on
sucking eggs, welcome any genuinely constructive
suggestions, and perhaps take a little time to
contemplate whether this sort of approach may be all
that 'post-ism' has to offer.