Sunday, December 22, 2013

Update 12/19/2013: Supporters celebrate Chelsea’s 26th birthday!

Supporters at home and abroad gathered to celebrate Chelsea Manning’s 26th birthday on December 17th, 2013. This was Chelsea’s fourth birthday behind bars since she was arrested in Iraq in 2010.
The North Texas Light Brigade celebrated Chelsea's birthday with a light show. Photo credit: Gary Egelston, IVAW
The North Texas Light Brigade celebrated Chelsea’s birthday with a light show.
Photo credit: Gary Egelston, IVAW

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The North Texas Light Brigade celebrated Chelsea’s birthday with a light show.
Photo credit: Gary Egelston, IVAW

Supporters gather for Chelsea Manning's birthday protest in Trafalgar Square on Dec 17, 2013
Supporters gather for Chelsea Manning’s birthday protest in Trafalgar Square on Dec 17, 2013

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Supporters gather for Chelsea Manning’s birthday protest in Trafalgar Square on Dec 17, 2013

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Supporters gather for Chelsea Manning’s birthday protest in Trafalgar Square on Dec 17, 2013

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Supporters gather for Chelsea Manning’s birthday protest in Trafalgar Square on Dec 17, 2013


 

President Obama Pardon Chelsea Manning Now!

 

Update 12/20/13: Interview with Chelsea’s family in Dublin, Ireland

Action From Ireland (AFRI) hosted a series of events in solidarity with Chelsea Manning’s mother Susan, Aunts Mary and Sharon, and Uncle Kevin last November. The family traveled from their home in Haverfordwest, South Wales, to Dublin, the birthplace of their father and were interviewed by RuairĂ­ McKiernan of AFRI.

Manning Family Visit to Dublin from Spark Video on Vimeo.
Video by Dave Donnellan
Listen to the full interview with Chelsea’s family.
From The Marxist Archives -The Revolutionary History Journal-Li Fu-jen (Frank Glass, John Liang) 1901-1988

...every serious revolutionary movement and cause brings forth all kinds of forces from unexpected sources and draws militants from all places as the case here with Frank Glass. Those international links are precious as the lightening rods to the struggle. Cadre like Glass are hard to find and as this story shows require much cadre development. 
 



Click below to link to the Revolutionary History Journal index.

http://www.marxists.org/history/etol/revhist/backissu.htm
 
Peter Paul Markin comment on this series:

This is an excellent documentary source for today’s leftist militants to “discover”the work of our forebears, particularly the bewildering myriad of tendencies which have historically flown under the flag of the great Russian revolutionary, Leon Trotsky and his Fourth International, whether one agrees with their programs or not. But also other laborite, semi-anarchist, ant-Stalinist and just plain garden-variety old school social democrat groupings and individual pro-socialist proponents.

Some, maybe most of the material presented here, cast as weak-kneed programs for struggle in many cases tend to be anti-Leninist as screened through the Stalinist monstrosities and/or support groups and individuals who have no intention of making a revolution. Or in the case of examining past revolutionary efforts either declare that no revolutionary possibilities existed (most notably Germany in 1923) or alibi, there is no other word for it, those who failed to make a revolution when it was possible. 

The Spanish Civil War can serve as something of litmus test for this latter proposition, most infamously around attitudes toward the Party Of Marxist Unification's (POUM) role in not keeping step with revolutionary developments there, especially the Barcelona days in 1937 and by acting as political lawyers for every non-revolutionary impulse of those forebears. While we all honor the memory of the POUM militants, according to even Trotsky the most honest band of militants in Spain then, and decry the murder of their leader, Andreas Nin, by the bloody Stalinists they were rudderless in the storm of revolution. But those present political disagreements do not negate the value of researching the POUM’s (and others) work, work moreover done under the pressure of revolutionary times. Hopefully we will do better when our time comes.

Finally, I place some material in this space which may be of interest to the radical public that I do not necessarily agree with or support. Off hand, as I have mentioned before, I think it would be easier, infinitely easier, to fight for the socialist revolution straight up than some of the “remedies” provided by the commentators in these entries from the Revolutionary History journal in which they have post hoc attempted to rehabilitate some pretty hoary politics and politicians, most notably August Thalheimer and Paul Levy of the early post Liebknecht-Luxemburg German Communist Party. But part of that struggle for the socialist revolution is to sort out the “real” stuff from the fluff as we struggle for that more just world that animates our efforts. So read, learn, and try to figure out the

********

Li Fu-jen (Frank Glass, John Liang)
1901-1988

From Revolutionary History, Vol.1 No.2, Summer 1988. Used by permission.

Part 1: in South Africa

Frank Glass, revolutionary activist, writer and scholar, died in Los Angeles on 21 March 1988, just before his 87th birthday. Better known to international audiences as Li Fu-Jen, or Frank Graves, or John Liang, he worked in three continents, and in each one was a central revolutionary figure. He was a foundation member of the Communist Party of South Africa; a Left Oppositionist when he went to China, and the editor of the premier Trotskyist paper, the Militant in the USA. A revolutionary throughout his life, he lived three full lives; as pioneer and militant in South Africa, as publicist and organiser in China; and as writer and teacher in America. This article deals with the first part of his life.
Frank Glass, a founder of the Communist Party in South Africa is barely remembered there, having been ignored, if not expunged, from the histories of the working class movement. Yet during his stay in South Africa (having arrived as a young lad in l911) he played a leading role in the foundation and organisation of the Communist Party and then in the first black trade union in the country, the Industrial and Commercial Workers Union of Africa, or ICU. One of the first revolutionaries in South Africa to join the ranks of the Left Opposition, he left for China in 1930, where he helped establish the Communist League of China (Trotskyist).
Finding details of Frank Glass’s activities is not easy. He preferred not to talk about himself, claiming that his own personal doings were not relevant for an understanding of the workers’ struggle. There is little written about Glass in South African labour histories, and the accounts by Stalinists dismiss him, or indeed twist facts in order to present him in the worst possible light. Yet, Glass was the youngest delegate at the conference in l921 at which it was decided to launch the CPSA, and he was on the Central Executive before he left the party. But even the factors that led to his resignation are fudged, and this conceals a little-known episode in the history of the Communist movement.
Like many early pioneers, and not a few who followed, Glass had to make difficult decisions on the nature of the working class in South Africa, and following from this, he had to decide on where best a revolutionary could work in South Africa. In the process he made mistakes, and he erred with most early Socialists on several issues. But they pale into insignificance when balanced against his achievements, and in presenting this appraisal I think he would have preferred to have the record as it was, and not sanitised to make him a superman. Frank Glass was a revolutionary, and worked through the problems he faced, making the necessary corrections, as he proceeded.
Glass was a member of the Industrial Socialist League (InSL) in Cape Town, a group which published the Bolshevik, and the first to adopt the name Communist Party of South Africa (CPSA). The InSL called for the class struggle, the complete overthrow of capitalism, and the dictatorship of the proletariat, a soviet system, affiliation to the Communist International, and mass action by the workers as a means of seizing power. The InSL had established close links with the Johannesburg-based International Socialist League (ISL), led by David Ivon Jones, S.P. Bunting and W.H. Andrews, but were opposed to participation in electoral politics. In this they found allies in Johannesburg, with whom to launch their CPSA. The party (like the ISL) was non-racist, and called for the organisation of all workers in one unified movement.
After a period of negotiations several groups agreed to accept the 21 Points of the Communist International, and joined together to form the united Communist Party of South Africa. The one point that proved to be contentious was the provision that the party participate in political (i.e., electoral) activity, and Frank Glass and four others, opposed to this clause, broke away to form the Communist Propaganda Group in April 1921. This was still a hangover from the strong Syndicalist tendency of the pre-war days, and was not at that time based on opposition to participation in all-white government institutions. That decision to boycott such bodies only emerged in South Africa during the early 1940s, and was accepted then only by groups that had some connection with the Trotskyist movement.
In May 1921 190 Israelites (the name chosen by a chiliastic black church group), were massacred by troops at Bulhoek, near Queenstown in the eastern Cape. It was an unpardonable action perpetrated by the Smuts government, and when four members of the united CPSA protested, they were arrested and charged. Members of the Propaganda Group showed their solidarity by participating in joint meetings, and dissolving their group. Union followed, and when the small groups merged to form the official Communist Party of South Africa in August 1921, Frank was one of the four Cape delegates at the conference.
Frank Glass soon emerged as a leading member of the CPSA, and was secretary of the Cape Town branch in 1922. That was the year of the miners’ strike on the Witwatersrand, which erupted into revolt, and only ended when Smuts used aeroplanes to bomb the main mining areas. Caught in the dilemma of supporting workers who were in conflict with the mineowners, and the anti-black action of a sizeable part of the white working class, he sided with the majority (near-unanimous) view of the party which claimed that the miners were striking in defence of living standards and not for the colour bar. This was a move to the right and Glass erred with the party.
The rightward swing in the CPSA was extended in 1923 when the CPSA, in conformity with Comintern policy, accepted the need for the United Front tactic, and applied for affiliation to the South African Labour Party (SALP). Although rejected, the CPSA supported the SALP, then in alliance with the Nationalist Party in the 1924 general election, and again discussed affiliation at its conference that year. Frank was now a full time organiser in the CPSA, and its business administrator, and he voted to renew the application to affiliate. This time the resolution was narrowly defeated and a number of leading members resigned from the party.
There appear to be three factors that led to the decision to join the SALP. The first arose from Lenin’s advice to the British Communists that they should find a place in their Labour Party in order to win the organised working class away from the Social Democrats. The small Communist groups in Australia and South Africa (and possibly elsewhere) debated the issue to see whether this tactic could be applied in their own countries. Secondly, the isolation of these small groups, and in South Africa this was particularly the case after the disastrous conclusion of the (white) mineworker’s strike, left the small Socialist group even more isolated than before. The third factor that influenced some Communists arose from the letter written by Ivon Jones to W.H. Andrews, the former dying in a sanatorium in Yalta, suggesting that the CPSA be dissolved, and that the party reduce its function to publishing a journal and protecting the interests of the black workers. Glass, in one of his last reminiscences (just a few weeks before his death) remarked on the fact that Andrews used to read Jones’ letters to him.
In February 1925 Glass resigned from the Central Executive, and then the party, declaring that the CPSA had become a sect, and was regarded with some justification as being anti-white. He threw himself into the white trade union movement (he was already treasurer of the SA Association of Employees’ Organisations) and became secretary of the Tailors Union. He also joined the SALP, which was now in the Pact government, in alliance with the Nationalist Party.
His stay in the SALP was short-lived. At the party conference in March 1925 he opposed the proposed Emergency Powers Bill, tabled by Creswell the party leader and Minister of Labour, repudiated the proposed legislation, and moved the resolution against it. Once again Glass was in a minority, and it is doubtful whether he could have stayed much longer. We have no information on his next step, but he must have rethought his position, and moved from a position of leadership in the white trade unions to a precarious position in the major African trade union movement – the Industrial and Commercial Workers Union of Africa.

With a Black Union

The industrialisation of South Africa had barely begun in the early 1920s when the ICU was launched. After participating in a dock strike the new union spread out to become a broad general workers union under Clements Kadalie, with an enrolment that was said to have reached 150,000. Members were recruited mainly in the African townships, and also in the countryside. Many of its organisers joined the CPSA and officials of the party (including some of the leading whites) spoke at its meetings. At the end of 1926 the Communists were arbitrarily expelled, and although the reasons are still unclear, it seems that this was partly because the ICU leadership feared an impending criticism of financial irregularities, and partly because white liberals exerted pressure on the leaders to remove all Communists from office. There were also accusations that the ICU leaders were resorting to a crude racism in their attacks on the white Communists. The ICU leaders’ claim was that Communists were overbearing and were prying into the internal affairs of the organisation.
It consequently came as a surprise when Glass (later the liberal’s bĂȘte noire) was asked to audit the union’s accounts, and prepare a financial statement, as required by the Department of Labour. Kadalie also wanted Glass appointed as financial secretary of the ICU, but there was opposition to a white occupying the post, and he was only appointed in a temporary capacity until an English adviser (himself obviously white) arrived. It has also been suggested that Glass was not appointed because of liberal pressure. History is not made of ‘ifs’ and ‘ands’, but had he secured this post the history of black workers’ organisation might have been very different. On 28 March, Frank Glass, together with W.H. Andrews (who had not left the CPSA but maintained only nominal membership, and worked almost exclusively in the white trade union movement) spoke on an ICU platform in Johannesburg. The gathering had been called to protest against a new Native Administration Act, that provided the legislation for the government to cripple all black organisation. The newspaper report placed the audience at some 2000 Africans, and a small group of whites, Indians, and Chinese. Frank’s address was interpreted by the police as being potentially illegal, and the issue was raised in the South African parliament. We only have the newspaper report (in the Rand Daily Mail, 28 March 1927) of what he said, but it is enough to show why his words were so bitterly denounced in parliament:
If you will do what the Russian workers have done and what the Chinese workers are doing now you – all the workers of this country, black and white – will be able to secure freedom. We don’t know at the moment how far the government is going in its attempt to restrict the freedom of the native workers; but this we do know, that all capitalist governments in their dealings with the workers act precisely alike. Therefore we have got to be prepared, not merely with demonstrations, but also – if it proves to be necessary – with far more drastic action.
It also seems most likely that the remarkable introduction to the ICU Economic and Political Program for 1928 was written by Glass. Nobody else could have phrased the sentiments so cogently:
Opponents of the ICU have frequently asserted that the organisation is not a trade union in the sense that the term is generally understood in South Africa, but that it is a kind of pseudo-political body ... The new constitution... definitely establishes the ICU as a trade union, albeit one of native workers ... at the same time it must be clearly understood that we have no intention of copying the stupid and futile ‘nonpolitical’ attitude of our white contemporaries. As Karl Marx said, every economic question is, in the last analysis, a political question also, and we must recognise that in neglecting to concern ourselves with current politics, in leaving the political machine to the unchallenged control of our class enemies, we are rendering a disservice to those tens of thousands of our members who are groaning under oppressive laws ... At the present stage of our development it is inevitable that our activities should be almost of an agitational character, for we are not recognised as citizens in our own country, being almost entirely disenfranchised and debarred from exercising a say in state affairs closely affecting our lives and welfare.

To the Left Opposition

There is no further information about Frank Glass in secondary sources. In 1928 he married Fanny Klennerman, a veteran member of the CPSA who had organised waitresses and other women workers in the 1920s. Together they started the Vanguard bookshop that was to become the most important source for Marxist and Trotskyist books in the Transvaal, and a focus for people searching for books or pamphlets on Fascism, on Russia, Spain, and China, and on the coming war. Precisely when Glass first moved to the ranks of the Left Opposition is unknown – but he was one of the first Marxists to support Trotsky in South Africa, and the first to write a letter of support to the American oppositionist paper, the Militant, of 29 March 1930. He provided a brief overview of the racism that divided the country, and the working class, for those who knew little about South Africa. White workers would not work with blacks in certain jobs, and debarred them from their trade unions. The high wages of whites, he said, were possible because of the low wages paid to black workers, and he added, the blacks had started organising their own trade unions. His major criticism of the CPSA was its use of the ‘Black Republic’ slogan, coined by the Comintern in its ‘Third Period’, when it directed every Communist party to prepare for the revolutionary overturn of their governments. Amongst the points Glass made against the slogan was that:
Racial animosity on the part of the native [black] members towards the European members has grown and is developing to an almost incredible degree, the native members logically interpreting the slogan as implying superiority for themselves over the hated oppressor (white Communists are included here).
He also maintained that there had been a ‘wholesale desertion of the white proletarian members who would not subscribe to the abandonment of the Marxian slogan “Workers of all lands, unite!”’.
He did not seem to have had much success in building a group in South Africa, and it was two years later (on 4 June 1932) that a letter from ‘four Africans’ in the Transvaal appeared in the Militant. There were also small groups in Cape Town, one of which included one of Glass’s close friends, Manuel Lopes (who later moved to the right). Details of that period are not readily available: none to indicate what happened to Glass’s connections with the ICU, or within the CPSA. Fanny Glass, who had remained in the CPSA, was expelled with other dissidents (including Andrews and Bunting) in 1931. Fanny worked with members of the Left Opposition, but men like Bunting and Andrews did not make the crucial break with Stalinism, and the latter returned during the war as chairman of the CPSA.
The history of the left groups in the Transvaal during the 1930s is only now being rediscovered. Later generations of Trotskyists in Johannesburg knew of Glass because of his one time association with Fanny Klennerman, but all we knew was that he had gone to China, had been involved there in the work of the Trotskyist groups, and (we suspected, correctly) wrote under the name of Li Fu-Jen. We read his articles in the journals that came through to Johannesburg.
It is only now, after Glass’s death, that details have become generally known about his remarkable career. Glass went to China soon after writing his letter to the Militant, and there he met with the American journalist Harold Isaacs. Together they saw the brutal executions of suspected Communists by the Kuomintang more than three years after the blood bath in Shanghai in 1927, and the extermination of most of the Chinese Communist Party. And when Isaacs wrote his classic Tragedy of the Chinese Revolution Glass read the manuscript and suggested changes and additions to the text. This work became the main source of information for several decades on the nature of Comintern policies that led to the defeat of the Chinese revolution.
Glass worked briefly for the Soviet Tass news agency in China, but quit ‘... because of the meaningless content of Tass news’. He then worked as a correspondent for the Anglo-Asiatic Telegraphic Agency. For the remainder of the ’30s Glass worked for several newspapers, edited the China Weekly Review, was a political commentator on radio, and was a member of the Provisional Central Committee, of the Communist League of China (Trotskyists) in the mid 1930s. He wrote the section on China for the programme of the Fourth International.
Glass had now entered the select group that worked with Trotsky, visiting him in 1937, edited some of his English articles, and returned to China, where he was able to find some refuge in the Shanghai French Concession. However, he was compelled to maintain a low profile, fearing betrayal, and persecution from the Stalinists, the French Concession police, and Kuomintang agents. He fled Shanghai a few days before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour (7 December 1941) and the Japanese occupation of Shanghai. After a circuitous and dangerous route he returned to New York, and established a home with Grace Simons.
A serious appraisal of Frank Glass’s writings will be the most appropriate memorial for a man who devoted so much of his life to the overthrow of capitalism in three continents.
There the account must rest for now. He was a living legend. We must not allow that legend to die.
Baruch Hirson
April 1988

References

The more easily accessible sources in which Glass is mentioned in the South African context are: Sheridan Johns, The Birth of the Communist Party of South Africa, International Journal of African Historical Studies, IX, 2, 1976; P.L. Wickens, The Industrial and Commercial Workers Union, OUP, Cape Town 1978; and H.J. and R.E. Simons, Class and Colour in South Africa, 1850-1950, Penguin, 1969 (republished by International Defence and Aid Fund, London).

Part 2: In China and the USA

Frank Glass, veteran of the communist movement on three continents, died in Los Angeles on 21 March, three days before his 87th birthday.
Glass moved to China in 1930, earning his living as a journalist in Shanghai (where he once met Richard Sorge, the German journalist and heroic Soviet spy later executed by the Japanese government). While in China Glass recruited Harold Isaacs to Trotskyism. Isaacs, also a journalist, later wrote, The Tragedy of the Chinese Revolution.
These years in China were the most important of Glass’ political career. In 1934, after a trip to New York where he met with the American Trotskyists, Glass was able to make contact with the Chinese Left Opposition. He was elected to their Provisional Central Committee in 1935. Wang Fan-hsi, who worked with Glass at this time, noted in his book Chinese Revolutionary that this Committee ‘... occupied an important position in the history of the Chinese Trotskyist movement. It was the most enduring and productive of all the bodies we established, reviving and expanding the organisation, both in Shanghai and nationally.’
Glass served for a number of years as the secretary and treasurer of the Chinese organisation. Under the name Li Fu-jen Glass corresponded periodically with the International Secretariat in Europe and with Martin Abern in New York. Glass also performed important courier work for the section and the leading committee of the Shanghai organisation often met in Glass’ apartment. Glass played a crucial role in the publication of the section’s monthly newspaper, Struggle (Tou-cheng), which was financed by Glass donating one half of his journalist’s salary. The regular publication of this voice of Chinese Trotskyism was a remarkable accomplishment given the fierce repression and debilitating underground conditions in which the section was forced to function.
In l937 Glass again visited the US and made a national speaking tour. In August he visited Trotsky in Mexico to discuss the current political situation in China (the transcript of his discussion with Trotsky is printed as A Discussion on China in Pathfinder Press’ Leon Trotsky on China. In New York Glass began writing articles on China for New International, and he was a fraternal delegate to the founding convention of the Socialist Workers Party (SWP) in Chicago in 1938. Glass returned to China in 1938 to continue his organisational and literary work but the impending Pacific War soon made it impossible for him to function politically in Asia. He left China a few weeks before Pearl Harbour and spent most of the Second World War years in New York where, still using the pen name Li Fu-jen, he contributed articles on China, Japan and the Far East to the Fourth International.
After the war Glass moved to Los Angeles and spent a number of years as a leading member of the LA Branch and SWP national committee. The 1960s, however, found him succumbing along with other leading members of the SWP, to the political disease of Pabloist impressionism. Under the name of John Liang he co-wrote a number of internal discussion documents with Arne Swabeck, abandoning the Trotskyist perspective of political revolution against the Stalinist regime in Peking. Ironically, some of the best arguments against Swabeck/Liang’s liquidationism can be found in the powerful Li Fu-jen articles written for the Trotskyist press in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Swabeck was expelled from the SWP in 1967 but Glass was not, and indeed Glass never formally quit the Socialist Workers Party, now led by the cynical anti-Trotskyist Jack Barnes clique.
In the last year of his life Frank Glass granted two sets of interviews with a representative of the Prometheus Research Library. On 14 April 1987, Comrade Glass told us: ‘I have been a revolutionary since I was 18 and have no regrets. I wouldn’t change a thing. All one can do is put your oar in the water and stroke as hard as you can for life’s most important task – social revolution.’ Frank Glass will be remembered as part of the founding generation of Trotskyist cadres, and especially for his courageous work as one of the leaders of the early Chinese Trotskyist movement.
Prometheus Research Library New York
***The Life And Times Of Michael Philip Marlin – Leave It To The Professionals  



 As readers know Tyrone Fallon, the son of the late famous Southern California private operative, Michael Philip Marlin (Tyrone used his mother’s maiden name for obvious reasons), and private eye in his own right told my old friend Peter Paul Markin’s friend Joshua Lawrence Breslin some stories that his illustrious father told him. Here’s one such story.  

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman-with kudos to Raymond Chandler

Dick and Dora Francis were strictly amateurs, very strictly amateurs, if there is such a term, in hard-nosed, rough-edged, seen-it-all professional private investigator Michael Philip Marlin’s eyes. Yes, they were in way over their heads by the time Marlin stepped in to try to unravel what they had knotted and then trace the cold leads to figure out what the hell happened, and who did it. The “what the hell happened” being an unsolved murder, maybe. The jury, no, not the court-room kind, but those who knew what went down, is still out that one. The only thing for sure was that Dick and Dora didn’t do it, and of course Marlin, otherwise everybody else had reason, had the chance, and the desire to do the deed. And to keep you from suspense the suspected deed was the killing of Charles Wyatt, yes, that Wyatt who invented half the stuff that goes into airplanes and make them passenger- friendly, and who made and lost fortunes in doing so. Lately the former and therefore entered the Francis duo.     

Marlin and Dick Francis had gone back a long way, back to the time that he was a Detective Sergeant on the robbery detail for the Los Angeles Police Department and Marlin was just getting kicked off , or left, the force depending on whose story you wanted to believe. He had set himself up as a private- eye and thereafter every once in a while would wind up working in tandem with Dick on some tough case that the department was ready to put in cold storage. Dick in his turn had left the force, walking away without a regret. The reason for that no regret was that he had landed one Dora Sweeney, heiress to the Sweeny lumber fortune, after investigating a robbery at her home in Bel Air. The robbery was never solved but as Dora said “she liked the cut of his jibe” and that was that. He left the force to “suffer” the tough life of the rich. And that was how Dick and Dora lammed onto (and fouled up) the Wyatt case.     
Dora had been boarding school friends with Elizabeth Wyatt (no Betty or Liz stuff strictly Elizabeth here), Charles Wyatt’s daughter and had kept in touch over the years especially the years before Dora’s marriage. When Charles Wyatt went missing, or had fled the home scene, or had been murdered, or any number of other possibilities once he disappeared without leaving word, or a trance Elizabeth frantically called Dora to see if she and Dick could find some information out, find it out on the quiet. Especially on the quiet since the current Wyatt fortune was at stake, and Wyatt Industries was just then in a precarious position in the markets and such new made public might tip things the wrong way.    

The reason that Elizabeth beseeched Dick and Dora was because in their little rarified circle Dick and Dora had developed a reputation for solving some society crimes, you know, which servant ran off with the family china, or who crashed the Smith’s automobile, or other little squabbles like that. Kid stuff really, even though Dick had once been a pro, stuff to do while they were waiting to have children to take up their spare time. Dick and Dora agreed, agreed too that the important thing was to keep the thing hushed up, hushed up big.   

Of course while you are trying to hush things up, and not offend anybody by being so crass as to ask pointed questions of one’s social set you are going wind up with dust. For example there had been a rumor, a persistent rumor, that Wyatt was having an affair with his secretary, Gladys Pitts. They had been seen together at odd working hours hanging around Spider Greb’s Club Deluxe over in Malibu, and at other watering holes. Gladys had also not been seen for a couple of weeks, although she had cashed a check at her bank drawn on Wyatt’s account a couple of days before Dick and Dora were handed the case. Naturally nobody wanted to upset his long-suffering, unknowing wife, Liz (not Elizabeth, just Liz, in that democratic generation) and so no question was directed that way and none answered, period.         

So the weeks passed and Dick and Dora were spinning their wheels, trying with might and main to not get to Charles’ whereabouts, or what might have happened to him despite the mounting evidence that he had either fled the country, alone or in company, or somebody had done him harm. That last part was not excluded when another sizable check was drawn from Wyatt’s account the day after he was last seen. They were at an impasse and that is when Dick cried “uncle” and called in his old pal Marlin.

Marlin, to his credit, agreed to work the case but with no promises and with the right to walk away if he got stonewalled by the society crowd. But even Marlin could not work miracles, except one. He found Gladys out in Fresno in about two days just by looking up her employment application information. Yes, I know. What he found out was that Gladys had quit Wyatt a few days before his disappearance and gone back to her husband the next day, all verifiable. As for the affair she mockingly laughed at the idea since Charles Wyatt was a drunk, crazy, and obsessive about his work. That was why they had spent time at the Club Deluxe and other watering holes. Overtime that she bitterly complained he never paid her before she left. As for Charles Wyatt there is a reward out for information about his whereabouts but Marlin has walked away from the case muttering under his breathe “leave this stuff to the professionals.” Yeah, that’s right.        
***The Life And Times Of Michael Philip Marlin – The China Doll



 As readers know Tyrone Fallon, the son of the late famous Southern California private operative, Michael Philip Marlin (Tyrone used his mother’s maiden name for obvious reasons), and private eye in his own right told my old friend Peter Paul Markin’s friend Joshua Lawrence Breslin some stories that his illustrious father told him. Here’s one such story.  
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman-with kudos to Raymond Chandler

No question Michael Philip Marlin, hard-headed, no nonsense, tough as nails private investigator was a “homer,” was a guy who felt right at home in the sun-drenched back streets and alleys of his native Los Angeles. He knew the players, the bit players too, he knew the cops good and bad, mostly bad or indifferent, he knew the hot spots and the low- life dens, knew Hollywood, knew Inglewood, knew all the vastness of the city in the days before the tourists and Okies came and ate up the land. Knew it before the ill-winds of World War II and the vast monies hanging around to be spent by those money-starved Okies. Knew it to be exact.

Time were tough though all around in those years before the war money came booming into his city of angels, his east of Eden, and the private- eye game was no exception. So every once in a while to keep himself in coffee and cakes he needed to take an outside job. Sometimes it was grabbing the graveyard shift as a house- peeper over at Jackie Craig’s Taft Hotel and sometimes he had to take out of town jobs. This one is about one of those out- of- town jobs, about a Frisco town job, always a tough dollar and this time was no exception. Worst it involved dealing with the denizens of that town’s bustling and crowded Chinatown district, also always a very tough dollar. After the last episode, the Yellow Dog case he called it, he had avoided chop suey joints in LA like the plague.      

It wasn’t like Marlin had something against the yellow race, against the Chinese, although he probably if he thought about it shared the same bewilderment at that exotic race, and the same prejudices as the average Anglo- Californian when confronted with a swarm of them. What bothered him was they were so secretive, so clannish that you could not get a straight answer from them to push your investigation forward. That was the case here, the case he called the China Doll case.

He had been hired by a woman, a young Chinese woman, Lillian Chou who wanted to know why her house, her summer house over in Pacifica had been vandalized not once but twice. Although she did not live there much she had a caretaker for the place who had been beaten within an inch of his life on the second invasion, and the thieves had taken everything that was not nailed down, everything including some priceless rare jade jewelry handed down from her mother. She wanted Marlin’s services because he had done similar work on that Yellow Dog case and Freddie Ching had recommended him to her after the cops had essentially blown off the case as just another tong war episode. (Miss Chou’s late father, an importer, was well known to the San Francisco police for his various, uh, enterprises, stolen jewelry, sex- trafficking, opium, coolie laborers, whatever could be sold in the import-export market.
   

That is where things started right off to get dicey. Miss Chou gave him little information since she had spent most of her time back East becoming increasingly Anglicized. Marlin pulled a few connections through Freddie Ching and was able to find out that Miss Chou’s father made enemies in his time but also many friends, among them Sonny Dell. Sonny the number one Anglo drug trafficker in Northern California, the number one guy in the lucrative opium and heroin market. Her father had made arrangements with Sonny to allow him to use his beachfront house in Pacifica to bring in his materials from the Far East in return for a big cut of the profits. That arrangement extended beyond her father’s death. That caretaker though was the weak link in the chain. He wanted to tell Miss Chou about the set-up but Sonny would not let him. And for his efforts he got beaten within an inch of his life and the house was ransacked to make it look like a robbery was the motivation.        

Marlin came this information the hard way as usual having to run up against Sonny’s guns, and those of Lee Chang another powerful figure in Chinatown who also had an arrangement with Sonny. Par for the Frisco course. Here is the screwy part though Miss Chou was privy to what was happening at her estate. She in fact had an arrangement with Sonny where he could use the premises in exchange for shipping weapons and other materials to China to aid in the struggle against the Japanese who had occupied the main areas of China. She used Marlowe as a shield to find out what had happened to her caretaker who not only worked for Sonny but as a patriotic Chinaman for Miss Chou’s operation. Marlin thought that a couple of lives could have been saved, a lot of trouble could have been avoided if Miss Chou another one of those damn secretive members of the yellow race had leveled with him. In any case, since Lee Chang had some unfinished business with Marlin as a result a certain Chinatown shoot-out, he was avoiding chop suey joints in Frisco, staying far away indeed.       
***The Roots Is The Toots- The Music That Got Them Through The Great Depression And World War II…


 

…Yeah, we know his hard luck story, ten thousand returning guys’ hard luck stories, know he was privately beside himself with the turn of events once he got off that god-awful troop transport in New York, and headed hopefully north (after a three day drunk just to even things out, although don’t tell her that) and so we pick him up after he got to that north he was headed for. He had not been back a year, most of that year spent sullenly, quietly in a rage, in a rage that having served, served well, had done his duty, had done his job from what his discharge papers said, he was unable to find work, real work, found that in heading north he had avoided no traps, there was no need for coal-miners or a cold-miner’s son in the Olde Saco labor market.

Damn, and those recurring nightmares, that feeling that he would always be unclean after what he did overseas, didn’t help either. But he stayed silent (and would like many in his generation remain silent, silent unto the grave, keep his hurts to himself, about went on over there), took the first low-rent job that came along, floor-sweeper in the MacAdams Mills just down the street from their house. Well not really their house, their home such as it was, in the quickly built Olde Saco Veterans Housing Project, built to ease the housing crunch with all the boys coming back home from overseas and hungry to get started on their dreams. Took that job, well, because with the baby, and another on the way, he could not do otherwise. And he thought just at that moment, that moment as he swept up the leavings from the mill floor that things had to get better, hadn’t they.

Jesus he knew he was no hell on wheels, no big wheel guy, never expected to be, had expected to dig coal like a couple or three generations of forbears down in those Harlan hills when the war freed him up from all that. Freed him up to see outside the hills and hollows of home, liked what he saw and never looked back. Liked what he saw of a black-haired gal too. He knew he had no skills, no skills except as a crackerjack marksman but what was that worth in civilian life, no skills for the northern market and what with his seventh grade education (all that was necessary to dig coal, hell, his father never went to school at all and his grandfather was illiterate signing his name with a simple X) he didn’t expect to be President. (Ha, that was a joke, he wouldn’t want to.) But didn’t his hunger to learn some skill (join the ten thousand other guys, buddy), didn’t his small dream, a little house of his own, a house not a tumbled down shack like back home in the hollows, a few kids and her growing old together figuring out things as they went along count. And he still stuck sweeping somebody else’s leavings, stalling his small dream, it wasn’t fair, not fair at all.         

Yeah it wasn’t fair at all that he drew a wrong number, came out of those lung-choke coal hills and hollows only to be dropped, dropped quickly once the MacAdams Textile Mills went south, south to cheap labor North Carolina (not far from his home Kentuck border) to seek the same poor whites hungry for dough that he had left behind, thought he had left behind. But no way, no way on god’s good green earth, was he going back the way he came. No way, if anybody was asking. And so he, his black-haired gal, and his now brood of four, four growing hungry (regular food hungry as befits kids not that gnawing hunger that ate at him, and her) struggled to get from one week to the next, paying off one bill one week, another the next, never getting even, not close. Living in that so-called temporary veterans housing well after the first crowd that they had come in with had moved to their single family dream cottages on the other side of town. Stuck, stuck bad, stuck to take a man’s pride away. So, no, please do not speak to him of streets of dreams, his small dreams, a little house of his own, a house not a tumbled down shack like back home in the hollows, a few kids and her growing old together figuring out things as they went along. Just don’t.            

 

***The Roots Is The Toots- The Music That Got Them Through The Great Depression And World War II…

 

 

… he had not been back a year, most of that year spent sullenly, quietly in a rage, in a rage that having served, served well, had done his duty, had done his job, from what his discharge papers said, he was unable to find work, real work. Found that he in heading north, north for her met at a USO dance in Portland, headed north to share his fate with her like he promised if he made it back, had avoided no traps, there was no need for coal-miners or a cold-miner’s son, in the Olde Saco labor market. Damn, and those recurring nightmares, that feeling that he would always be unclean after what he did (and seen done by his fellows) overseas, over in that island-hopping Marine splash didn’t help either.

But he stayed silent (and would like many in his generation remain silent, silent unto the grave, keep his hurts to himself, about went on over there), took the first low-rent job that came along, floor-sweeper in the MacAdams Mills just down the street from their house. Well not really their house, their home such as it was, in the quickly built Olde Saco Veterans Housing Project, built to ease the housing crunch with all the boys coming back. Took that job, well, because with the baby, and another on the way, he could not do otherwise. And he thought just at that moment, that moment as he swept up the leavings from the mill floor that things had to get better, hadn’t they …                 
***The Roots Is The Toots- The Music That Got Them Through The Great Depression And World War II…

 
 

…it was as simple as this. He had asked her, asked her quite politely although she could tell that he had liquor on his breathe, for a dance, a slow one, at the weekly USO dance held up in Portland (Maine, okay) about twenty miles from her Olde Saco home. And yes she, along with her best friend Lillian, took the rumble-tumble Greyhound bus up old ten thousand traffic light stop Route One to get there to save gas ration money and help the war effort. That weekly dance organized by those who were keeping the home fires burning in order to keep up the morale of the boys getting ready to go overseas, to go east to preparation places in order to take back Europe from the night-takers, to go west and island by island to take back the Pacific from the night-takers on that side of the world. But that night like every USO dance night such talk, such thoughts were set aside for those few hours before the ships and planes took off to their appointed destinations.

She, well, she was as patriotic as any other red-blooded American girl, young woman, and had volunteered to be one of the hostesses (and Lilian too).  And he, nothing but a country boy he from down in Appalachia, down in deep down coal slag country, Mister Peabody’s country bought and paid for by the sweat of generations of back country denizens who never left as others headed west to greener pastures. He up north for the first time, had spied her from his bashful corner, spied her all flowing black hair, sweets smiles, simply dressed for the occasion, no flash but an allure, something that struck his down to earth country ways and spoke of soul-mate (although he would have dismissed such term out of hand as too city-such words would be left to his sons to describe their love).

After fortifying himself with some store-bought liquor, he had asked for a dance and she had accepted. Something about him, about the way he held her on the dance floor, about how he despite having been a battled-tested participant in all the hard-shell Marine Pacific landings nevertheless softy held her hand for just a moment at the end of the dance, about their talk afterward about how he been sent to Portsmouth down in New Hampshire for temporary relief duty got her going, although she sensed that what was ahead for him, for them, would not be the pretty dreams of her younger girlish days, not the pretty dreams at all.

But that was later, the not pretty dreams part, that night, and for the rest of the nights before he took a plane west to take a ship to once again join in on that desperate island by island fight in the Pacific they flowered, there is no other way to express it, their burgeoning love heated up the night, they would, if he came back (and she was sure he would, he was more fatalistic) share whatever dreams came their way, together. Would share their small inexpensive dreams together …            

Saturday, December 21, 2013

The Life And Times Of Michael Philip Marlin – The Club Tijuana

 
 
As readers know Tyrone Fallon, the son of the late famous Southern California private operative, Michael Philip Marlin (Tyrone used his mother’s maiden name for obvious reasons), and private eye in his own right told my old friend Peter Paul Markin’s friend Joshua Lawrence Breslin some stories that his illustrious father told him. Here’s one such story.  

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman-with kudos to Raymond Chandler

Los Angeles private investigator Michael Philip Marlin hated to go south of the border, south down into sunny fetid Mexico, faux Mexico really. Tijuana. He hated the squalor he found just over the border after the immigration station told him he was in hablo espanol country. He hated the bracero looks, stares, eternal stares, piercing right through you, from the sun-blackened Mexican fellahin, and the blank stares, the hungry stares from his children. He hated once he entered dusty, disheveled, loud honky-tonk (gringo honky-tonk) Tijuana leaving the two or three streets that made up tourista Tijuana. And most of all he hated what could and could not be sold, cheaply, cheap like the value of human life there. Anything perverse or illegal could be had for a price, and not much, un-bonded whiskey, seven kinds of dope, women willing to do anything, ditto for guys if it came to it and that was your preference, somebody’s sister, hell, somebody’s brother, guns, all the guns you would ever need enough to outfit Pancho Villa’s army if it came to it.

Yes, Marlin hated going south of the border, the smell, the dust, the piss, everything but just then, 1940 just then, he was in need of cash bad since business had been off and he had room rent coming due fast (his landlord had padlocked his office and that room rent loomed large) so he had taken the Addington case the minute he had received it via Detective James Foote his friend on the Los Angeles police force who threw business, non-police business discreet business his way. What was desired by a Mrs. Addington was for a missing husband to be found, found by a woman who had the means and wherewithal to find that errant soul. The fleer, one James Addington, late of New York City Riverside high-end digs via that searching wife, had made the tour of the West Coast cities and as Marlin found out to his dismay had headed south of the border to indulge in whatever he had the price for, mainly primo dope and loose women.

Yes, James had slipped down the class ladder a few rungs after he got the taste for cocaine, got the taste for loose women who hovered around the cocaine pits, and so his life turned to the meccas for such tastes and Marlin had to go south and find out where he was, and whether he was coming home to his waiting wife. So naturally Marlin had to stop at the Club Tijuana (don’t get confused the place was owned by Americans and catered to Americans, no fellaheen need apply) the central place where those trying to make dope connections, or anything else sporting could be found. And Marlin found James, James and his woman, his all Spanish sparking eyes, ruby lips and swaying hips woman, Rosita. After some verbal sparring James told Marlin (without the fiery Rosita present) that he would return to the up and up in New York once he got rid of his jones. Marlowe thought that would be never giving the ragged look of James. He reported that news to Mrs. Addington and, go figure on women, she not only bought the excuse but sent money via Marlin to cover James’ expenses.

Marlin figured that would be that, case closed except that a few weeks later Mrs. Addington showed up Los Angeles to be nearby when James was ready. Marlin was sent to deliver that message.  James no nearer to recovery than previously was peeved at the fact Marlin presented to him about his wife. Rosita was furious. Marlin sensed that no good could come from these quarters after his announcement. And he was right because a few days later, a couple of days after he got back from Tijuana, Mrs. Addington was found in her rented suite murdered, cut up by somebody skilled at knife work. Needless to say despite all the pat alibis down in Tijuana this appeared to be a hit ordered by James (probably pushed on by Rosita), and was probably done by a Mex bad boy who went by the name (in Spanish) of  Mack the Knife.

Once Marlin had his proof he would go up against James, who expected to inherit a big wad of dough for his habits (and to keep Rosita in style). When Marlin had his proof (somebody in Mrs. Addington’s apartment building had seen a bad Mex looking like Mack the Knife in the hallway) he went in for the collar. One afternoon he entered the Club Tijuana where James and Rosita were sitting at a back table in the dark. As Marlowe approached a knife whizzed by him, he turned and shot Mack the Knife point blank. James seeing that was ready to face the music but Rosita took a shot, two shots actually, at Marlin hitting him in the left arm. He responded by throwing a couple of slugs into her heart. Dead. As for James, James recently took the big step-off up at Q for the murder of his ever- loving wife. Marlin thought when he heard the news that damn was another reason to hate Tijuana, hate it bad.
From The Marxist Archives -The Revolutionary History Journal-Karl Kautsky (Leader of Pre-World War I German Social Democrats and Second International)- The intellectuals and the workers

...Marx, Engels, Lenin, Trotsky and all the better historic leaders of the advanced guard of the international working- class always have depended, and rightly so, on contributions to political clarity by non-revolutionary and apolitical sources. Even sources as here  that later fell by the wayside in the struggle. Kautsky has been rightly vilified in the post-World War I period as a political scoundrel but in his early days they called him the "pope" of the social-democracy and then rightly so too. Read on.

 


Click below to link to the Revolutionary History Journal index.

http://www.marxists.org/history/etol/revhist/backissu.htm
 
Peter Paul Markin comment on this series:

This is an excellent documentary source for today’s leftist militants to “discover”the work of our forebears, particularly the bewildering myriad of tendencies which have historically flown under the flag of the great Russian revolutionary, Leon Trotsky and his Fourth International, whether one agrees with their programs or not. But also other laborite, semi-anarchist, ant-Stalinist and just plain garden-variety old school social democrat groupings and individual pro-socialist proponents.

Some, maybe most of the material presented here, cast as weak-kneed programs for struggle in many cases tend to be anti-Leninist as screened through the Stalinist monstrosities and/or support groups and individuals who have no intention of making a revolution. Or in the case of examining past revolutionary efforts either declare that no revolutionary possibilities existed (most notably Germany in 1923) or alibi, there is no other word for it, those who failed to make a revolution when it was possible. 

The Spanish Civil War can serve as something of litmus test for this latter proposition, most infamously around attitudes toward the Party Of Marxist Unification's (POUM) role in not keeping step with revolutionary developments there, especially the Barcelona days in 1937 and by acting as political lawyers for every non-revolutionary impulse of those forebears. While we all honor the memory of the POUM militants, according to even Trotsky the most honest band of militants in Spain then, and decry the murder of their leader, Andreas Nin, by the bloody Stalinists they were rudderless in the storm of revolution. But those present political disagreements do not negate the value of researching the POUM’s (and others) work, work moreover done under the pressure of revolutionary times. Hopefully we will do better when our time comes.

Finally, I place some material in this space which may be of interest to the radical public that I do not necessarily agree with or support. Off hand, as I have mentioned before, I think it would be easier, infinitely easier, to fight for the socialist revolution straight up than some of the “remedies” provided by the commentators in these entries from the Revolutionary History journal in which they have post hoc attempted to rehabilitate some pretty hoary politics and politicians, most notably August Thalheimer and Paul Levy of the early post Liebknecht-Luxemburg German Communist Party. But part of that struggle for the socialist revolution is to sort out the “real” stuff from the fluff as we struggle for that more just world that animates our efforts. So read, learn, and try to figure out the

********

The intellectuals and the workers

Karl Kautsky (1854-1938), the ‘Pope of Marxism’, wrote the following article when he was the major theoretician of the German Social Democracy. It first appeared in Die Neue Zeit (Vol.XXII, no.4, 1903), the journal which Kautsky edited from 1883 to 1917, and appeared in English in the April 1946 edition of Fourth International.

Part of the very problem which once again so keenly preoccupies our attention is the antagonism between the intellectuals and the proletariat.
My colleagues will for the most part wax indignant at my admission of this antagonism. But it actually exists, and as in other cases, it would be a most inexpedient tactic to try to cope with this fact by ignoring it.
This antagonism is a social one, it relates to classes and not individuals. An individual intellectual, like an individual capitalist, may join the proletariat in its class struggle. When he does, he changes his character too. It is not of this type of intellectual, who is still an exception among his fellows, that we shall deal with in the following lines. Unless otherwise indicated I shall use the word intellectual to mean only the common run of intellectual, who take the standpoint of bourgeois society and who are characteristic of intellectuals as a whole, who stand in a certain antagonism to the proletariat.
This antagonism differs, however, from the antagonism between labour and capital. An intellectual is not a capitalist. True, his standard of life is bourgeois and he must maintain it if he is not to become a pauper; but at the same time he has to sell the product of his labour, and frequently his labour power; and he is himself often enough exploited and humiliated by the capitalists. Hence the intellectual does not stand in any economic antagonism to the proletariat. But his status of life and his conditions of labour are not proletarian, and this gives rise to a certain antagonism in sentiments and ideas.
As an isolated individual, the proletarian is a nonentity. His strength, his progress, his hopes and expectations are entirely derived from organisation, from systematic action in conjunction with his fellows. He feels himself big and strong when he is part of a big and strong organism. The organism is the main thing for him; the individual by comparison means very little. The proletarian fights with the utmost devotion as part of the anonymous mass, without prospect of personal advantage or personal glory, performing his duty in any post assigned to him, with a voluntary discipline which pervades all his feelings and thoughts.
Quite different is the case of the intellectual. He fights not by means of power, but by argument. His weapons are his personal knowledge, his personal ability and his personal convictions. He can attain a position only through his personal abilities. Hence the freest play for these seems to him the prime condition for success. It is only with difficulty that he submits to serving as a part which is subordinate to the whole, and then only from necessity, not from inclination. He recognises the need of discipline only for the masses, not for the select few. And naturally he counts himself among the latter,
In addition to this antagonism between the intellectual and the proletarian in sentiment, there is yet another antagonism. The intellectual, armed with the general education of our time, conceives himself as very superior to the proletarian. Even Engels writes of the scholarly mystification with which he approached workers in his youth. The intellectual finds it very easy to overlook in the proletarian his equal as a fellow fighter, at whose side in the combat he must take his place. Instead he sees in the proletarian the latter's low level of intellectual development, which it is the intellectual's task to raise. He sees in the worker not a comrade but a pupil. The intellectual clings to Lassalle’s aphorism on the bond between science and the proletariat, a bond which will raise society to a higher plane. As advocate of science, the intellectuals come to the workers not in order to co-operate with them as comrades, but as an especially friendly external force in society, offering them aid.
For Lassalle, who coined the aphorism on science and the proletariat, science, like the state, stands above the class struggle. Today we know this to be false. For the state is the instrument of the ruling class. Moreover, science itself rises above the classes only insofar as it does not deal with classes, that is, only insofar as it is a natural and not a social science. A scientific examination of society produces an entirely different conclusion when society is observed from a class standpoint, especially from the standpoint of a class which is antagonistic to that society. When brought to the proletariat from the capitalist class, science is invariably adapted to suit capitalist interests. What the proletariat needs is a scientific understanding of its own position in society. That kind of science a worker cannot obtain in the officially and socially approved manner. The proletarian himself must develop his own theory. For this reason he must be completely self-taught, no matter whether his origin is academic or proletarian. The object of study is the activity of the proletariat itself, its role in the process of production, its role in the class struggle. Only from this activity can the theory, the self-consciousness of the proletariat, arise.
The alliance of science with labour and its goal of saving humanity, must therefore be understood not in the sense which the academicians transmit to the people the knowledge which they gain in the bourgeois classroom, but rather in this sense that every one of our co-fighters, academicians and proletarians alike, who are capable of participating in proletarian activity, utilise the common struggle or at least investigate it, in order to draw new scientific knowledge which can in turn be fruitful for further proletarian activity. Since that is how the matter stands, it is impossible to conceive of science being handed down to the proletariat or of an alliance between them as two independent powers. That science, which can contribute to the emancipation of the proletariat, can be developed only by the proletariat and through it. What the liberals bring over from the bourgeois scientific circles cannot serve to expedite the struggle for emancipation, but often only to retard it.
The remarks which follow are by way of digression from our main theme. But today when the question of the intellectuals is of such extreme importance, the digression is not perhaps without value.
Nietzsche’s philosophy with its cult of superman for whom the fulfilment of his own individuality is everything and the subordination of the individual to a great social aim is as vulgar as it is despicable, this philosophy is the real philosophy of the intellectual; and it renders him totally unfit to participate in the class struggle of the proletariat.
Next to Nietzsche, the most outstanding spokesman of a philosophy based on the sentiments of the intellectual is Ibsen. His Doctor Stockmann (An Enemy of the People) is not a socialist, as so many believe, but rather the type of intellectual who is bound to come into conflict with the proletarian movement, and with any popular movement generally, as soon as he attempts to work within it. For the basis of the proletarian movement, as of every democratic movement, is respect for the majority of one’s fellows. A typical intellectual a la Stockmann regards a “compact majority” as a monster which must be overthrown.
From the difference in sentiment between the proletarian and the intellectual, which we have noted above, a conflict can easily arise between the intellectual and the party when the intellectual joins it. That holds equally even if his joining the party does not give rise to any economic difficulties for the intellectual, and even though his theoretical understanding of the movement may be adequate. Not only the very worst elements, but often men of splendid character and devoted to their convictions have on this account suffered shipwreck in the party.
That is why every intellectual must examine himself conscientiously, before joining the party. And that is why the party must examine him to see whether he can integrate himself in the class struggle of the proletariat, and become immersed in it as a simple soldier, without feeling coerced or oppressed. Whoever is capable of this can contribute valuable services to the proletariat according to his talents, and gain great satisfaction from his party activity. Whoever is incapable can expect great friction, disappointment, conflicts, which are of advantage neither to him nor to the party.
An ideal example of an intellectual who thoroughly assimilated the sentiments of a proletarian, and who, although a brilliant writer, quite lost the specific manner of an intellectual, who marched cheerfully with the rank-and-file, who worked in any post assigned to him, who devoted himself wholeheartedly to our great cause, and despised the feeble whinings about the suppression of one's individuality, as individuals trained in the philosophy of Nietzsche and Ibsen are prone to do whenever they happen to be in a minority - that ideal example of the intellectual whom the socialist movement needs, was Wilhelm Liebknecht. We might also mention Marx, who never forced himself to the forefront, and whose hearty discipline in the International, where he often found himself in the minority, was exemplary.
Karl Kautsky