Democratic Deficit
Bhaskar Sunkara, The Socialist Manifesto: The Case for Radical Politics in an Era of Extreme Inequality
Verso, 284pp, £16.99, ISBN 9781786636935
reviewed by Neil Dawson
In the mid-19th century, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels confidently declared that capitalism’s demise and the proletariat’s victory were ‘equally inevitable’. Only the most Panglossian radical socialist would make this claim today. The recent record of capitalism in countries such as America and Britain may be marked by extreme inequality, financial crisis, and popular discontent, but that doesn’t mean we’re on route to somewhere better. This is the writer and activist Bhaskar Sunkara’s point of departure in The Socialist Manifesto. Without a credible alternative to capitalism, he argues, we are likely to keep submitting to its profit motive and power disparities, so ensuring the system’s survival. The overarching purpose of his book is to help develop that alternative.
Sunkara begins his case for socialism with the question of vision. What would a socialist future look like? The basic contours of his image echo those of classical Marxism. Where Marx and Engels spoke of a world in which ‘the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all’, Sunkara visualises a reality in which everyone is ‘free to fulfil their potential, to flourish in all their individuality’. To add substance to this formulation, the author engages in a thought experiment based on a fictitious workplace – the Bongiovi pasta sauce bottling factory. Through this, he develops the ideas of democratised ownership and control of the economy, decommodification of labour, and a 28-hour working week that will allow more time for hobbies: a ‘deluge of bad poetry, strange philosophical blog posts, and terrible abstract art will be a sure sign of progress’. This socialist vision isn’t a utopia, he insists. There will still be suffering. But this will be at the level of what he calls ordinary unhappiness – heartbreak, bad luck, grief – rather than systemic misery.
Having outlined where he wants us to end up, Sunkara’s focus for the rest of the book is on how we get there. This starts with an examination of the past, a history of socialism that covers such diverse topics as the origins of capitalism, European social democracy, communist revolution in China, and American socialism. Given this range, it’s no surprise that Sunkara’s analysis is far from comprehensive. Yet, that isn’t his objective. His aim, rather, is to figure out what went wrong with socialism in the past and use these insights as a guide to the future. From this investigation several ‘lessons’ emerge. The most important concern democracy, reformist socialism, and the working class.
According to Sunkara, socialism was derailed in the past because it suffered from a democratic deficit. This point applies to the Russian Bolsheviks, he argues, whose authoritarian turn could have been checked by a ‘democratic . . . counterbalance’; and it applies to the German Social Democratic Party (SDP), whose rigid bureaucratisation at the beginning of the 20th century ensconced a party elite who ultimately led the organisation in a rightist direction. So, to avoid these errors, any present and future socialism must be democratic to its core.
On the face of it, this all seems fair enough. Calling for more democracy clearly isn’t a bad thing, and what Sunkara says about the Bolsheviks is right by definition: had they been more democratic they would have been less authoritarian. But there is something troubling about the author’s commentary on the German SDP. It is true that the SDP’s organisation was very elitist, as the sociologist Robert Michels pointed out as early as 1911. Yet, here, Sunkara seems to be thinking of democracy as a means to stop alternative – ‘rightist’ – political preferences from gaining traction. It’s perfectly acceptable to be against those preferences, but surely any democracy worth its salt must recognise the basic legitimacy of difference? There’s a sense, therefore, that Sunkara equates democracy with his own ideological leanings.
Another lesson Sunkara derives from his historical analysis is that reformist socialism, or social democracy, is a dead end. Historically, this type of socialism has been founded on a compromise with capitalism mediated by the state. Essentially, labour and the state committed to providing conditions favourable to capitalist accumulation, while capital accepted the state’s right to pursue egalitarian outcomes through extensive redistribution and public welfare programmes. In times of economic boom, this arrangement brought about impressive results, as Sunkara shows in his discussion of Swedish social democracy. But when the inevitable downturn or crisis hits, and the social democratic settlement makes ‘deeper inroads into firm profits’, capital pushes back by demanding greater returns and withholding investment. As Sunkara demonstrates, because social democracy is ultimately ‘dependent on private sector profits’, it is forced to retreat.
This is a compelling argument and, if anything, Sunkara could have pushed it further. In the hyper-mobile environment of globalisation, state dependency on capital has increased, making the social democratic compromise Sunkara criticises even more difficult to sustain, let alone advance. Research from the Organisation of Economic Cooperation and Development supports this point: across the rich world since the 1970s, the share of the tax burden has been declining for capital while rising for labour and consumption. That is, taxation has steadily become more regressive, undermining egalitarian outcomes.
While Sunkara is most convincing in his critique of reformist socialism, he is least convincing in his discussion of the working class. Here he makes the familiar leftist mistake of assuming the working class belongs to socialism and is predisposed to be a radical agent of change. The way he develops this point is by looking at the history of ‘Third World revolution’. Socialism failed in places such as China, he contends, due to the underdevelopment of the working class. This meant that Mao Zedong and his comrades had to base their support on the peasantry, whose intrinsic opposition to socialism resulted in the authoritarian capitalism we see in China today. Had there been a fully-fledged working class, Sunkara suggests, the outcomes of Third World revolutions would have been much better.
Such arguments about the working class are reductive in the extreme and fly in the face of much historical evidence. In the 1980s, for instance, working class people in communist Poland demanded a more consumerist society and a greater role for religion in public life – hardly socialist positions. Unfortunately, Sunkara’s ideological presuppositions overwhelm his analysis of the contemporary American and British contexts, the focus of the last part of his book. He is certainly correct that there is widespread anger in these countries ‘at the unjust outcomes of capitalism’. But his contention that the likes of Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn mark the political return of socialism and the voice of working people doesn’t bear scrutiny.
Yes, both of these figures are socialist and both are radical in that they look ‘beyond capitalism’. But their social base isn’t working class. During the 2016 Democrat primaries most blue collar Americans backed Hilary Clinton (43%), not Sanders (35%) (and, of course, in the presidential election a substantial portion voted for Donald Trump). As it does now, Sanders’ support back then came primarily from young people with degrees – the would-be middle class. In Britain’s 2017 general election more working class people voted for the Conservatives (44%) than for Corbyn’s Labour (42%). Like Sanders, Corbyn’s support is rooted in young graduates.
Sunkara’s neglect of these realities doesn’t just detract from the quality of his analysis. By assuming the left speaks for the working classes, the author effectively discounts the need to compete for their political loyalty. This has serious implications for Sunkara’s overarching purpose. After all, how can you build a democratic, radical socialist alternative if you don’t reach out to those your manifesto is built around?
Sunkara begins his case for socialism with the question of vision. What would a socialist future look like? The basic contours of his image echo those of classical Marxism. Where Marx and Engels spoke of a world in which ‘the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all’, Sunkara visualises a reality in which everyone is ‘free to fulfil their potential, to flourish in all their individuality’. To add substance to this formulation, the author engages in a thought experiment based on a fictitious workplace – the Bongiovi pasta sauce bottling factory. Through this, he develops the ideas of democratised ownership and control of the economy, decommodification of labour, and a 28-hour working week that will allow more time for hobbies: a ‘deluge of bad poetry, strange philosophical blog posts, and terrible abstract art will be a sure sign of progress’. This socialist vision isn’t a utopia, he insists. There will still be suffering. But this will be at the level of what he calls ordinary unhappiness – heartbreak, bad luck, grief – rather than systemic misery.
Having outlined where he wants us to end up, Sunkara’s focus for the rest of the book is on how we get there. This starts with an examination of the past, a history of socialism that covers such diverse topics as the origins of capitalism, European social democracy, communist revolution in China, and American socialism. Given this range, it’s no surprise that Sunkara’s analysis is far from comprehensive. Yet, that isn’t his objective. His aim, rather, is to figure out what went wrong with socialism in the past and use these insights as a guide to the future. From this investigation several ‘lessons’ emerge. The most important concern democracy, reformist socialism, and the working class.
According to Sunkara, socialism was derailed in the past because it suffered from a democratic deficit. This point applies to the Russian Bolsheviks, he argues, whose authoritarian turn could have been checked by a ‘democratic . . . counterbalance’; and it applies to the German Social Democratic Party (SDP), whose rigid bureaucratisation at the beginning of the 20th century ensconced a party elite who ultimately led the organisation in a rightist direction. So, to avoid these errors, any present and future socialism must be democratic to its core.
On the face of it, this all seems fair enough. Calling for more democracy clearly isn’t a bad thing, and what Sunkara says about the Bolsheviks is right by definition: had they been more democratic they would have been less authoritarian. But there is something troubling about the author’s commentary on the German SDP. It is true that the SDP’s organisation was very elitist, as the sociologist Robert Michels pointed out as early as 1911. Yet, here, Sunkara seems to be thinking of democracy as a means to stop alternative – ‘rightist’ – political preferences from gaining traction. It’s perfectly acceptable to be against those preferences, but surely any democracy worth its salt must recognise the basic legitimacy of difference? There’s a sense, therefore, that Sunkara equates democracy with his own ideological leanings.
Another lesson Sunkara derives from his historical analysis is that reformist socialism, or social democracy, is a dead end. Historically, this type of socialism has been founded on a compromise with capitalism mediated by the state. Essentially, labour and the state committed to providing conditions favourable to capitalist accumulation, while capital accepted the state’s right to pursue egalitarian outcomes through extensive redistribution and public welfare programmes. In times of economic boom, this arrangement brought about impressive results, as Sunkara shows in his discussion of Swedish social democracy. But when the inevitable downturn or crisis hits, and the social democratic settlement makes ‘deeper inroads into firm profits’, capital pushes back by demanding greater returns and withholding investment. As Sunkara demonstrates, because social democracy is ultimately ‘dependent on private sector profits’, it is forced to retreat.
This is a compelling argument and, if anything, Sunkara could have pushed it further. In the hyper-mobile environment of globalisation, state dependency on capital has increased, making the social democratic compromise Sunkara criticises even more difficult to sustain, let alone advance. Research from the Organisation of Economic Cooperation and Development supports this point: across the rich world since the 1970s, the share of the tax burden has been declining for capital while rising for labour and consumption. That is, taxation has steadily become more regressive, undermining egalitarian outcomes.
While Sunkara is most convincing in his critique of reformist socialism, he is least convincing in his discussion of the working class. Here he makes the familiar leftist mistake of assuming the working class belongs to socialism and is predisposed to be a radical agent of change. The way he develops this point is by looking at the history of ‘Third World revolution’. Socialism failed in places such as China, he contends, due to the underdevelopment of the working class. This meant that Mao Zedong and his comrades had to base their support on the peasantry, whose intrinsic opposition to socialism resulted in the authoritarian capitalism we see in China today. Had there been a fully-fledged working class, Sunkara suggests, the outcomes of Third World revolutions would have been much better.
Such arguments about the working class are reductive in the extreme and fly in the face of much historical evidence. In the 1980s, for instance, working class people in communist Poland demanded a more consumerist society and a greater role for religion in public life – hardly socialist positions. Unfortunately, Sunkara’s ideological presuppositions overwhelm his analysis of the contemporary American and British contexts, the focus of the last part of his book. He is certainly correct that there is widespread anger in these countries ‘at the unjust outcomes of capitalism’. But his contention that the likes of Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn mark the political return of socialism and the voice of working people doesn’t bear scrutiny.
Yes, both of these figures are socialist and both are radical in that they look ‘beyond capitalism’. But their social base isn’t working class. During the 2016 Democrat primaries most blue collar Americans backed Hilary Clinton (43%), not Sanders (35%) (and, of course, in the presidential election a substantial portion voted for Donald Trump). As it does now, Sanders’ support back then came primarily from young people with degrees – the would-be middle class. In Britain’s 2017 general election more working class people voted for the Conservatives (44%) than for Corbyn’s Labour (42%). Like Sanders, Corbyn’s support is rooted in young graduates.
Sunkara’s neglect of these realities doesn’t just detract from the quality of his analysis. By assuming the left speaks for the working classes, the author effectively discounts the need to compete for their political loyalty. This has serious implications for Sunkara’s overarching purpose. After all, how can you build a democratic, radical socialist alternative if you don’t reach out to those your manifesto is built around?