Sunday, 21 June 2026

The World Cup and the Crisis of Global Capitalism: Sport, Spectacle and the Struggle for Socialism

Introduction: The World Cup as a Mirror of a Disintegrating Social Order

Few events in culture draw the worldwide focus of the FIFA World Cup. Every four years, billions of viewers watch a month-long event that, on the surface, seems to go beyond politics, social class, and national conflicts. It is promoted as a global celebration of humanity, emphasising talent, creativity, and shared happiness. However, behind this glittering surface, an undeniable truth persists: the World Cup has evolved into a powerful symbol of the deepening crisis within global capitalism.

Jonathan Wilson’s recent history of the tournament, together with the admiring review it received in the London Review of Books, assembles a devastating record of corruption, authoritarianism, and human suffering. They recount Mussolini’s 1934 fascist pageant; Videla’s Argentina, where the cheers of crowds drowned out the screams of the tortured; the thousands of migrant workers who perished in Qatar; and the grotesque spectacle of the Trump–Infantino axis presiding over the 2026 tournament, with ICE agents patrolling stadiums and entire national teams subjected to humiliating visa restrictions.

However, the liberal approach in these critiques makes them politically ineffective. They list abuses but fail to identify their root causes. They highlight corruption without explaining why it is widespread. They criticise the 'politicisation' of sport but neglect to recognise that, under capitalism, sport is inherently political. This leads to moralistic complaints that do nothing to challenge the social system itself.

A Marxist perspective holds that the World Cup is not tainted by capitalism; rather, it is a manifestation of capitalism itself. Its development mirrors the history of the capitalist system, ranging from imperialist expansion and fascist mobilisation to post-war rebuilding, neoliberal globalisation, and the current authoritarian decline of bourgeois democracy. Analysing the World Cup offers insight into the broader world that shaped its existence.

The World Cup as Commodity-Spectacle

The modern World Cup developed during the rise of monopoly capitalism in the early 20th century. As Marx noted in the Grundrisse, the growth of capital leads to the “generalisation of commodity relations across all areas of life.” Originally a working-class pastime, sport quickly became a commodity—its worth now measured not by enjoyment but by profit-making.

By the mid-20th century, the World Cup had evolved into a global spectacle driven by several factors: the expansion of mass media broadcasting, the integration of sports into advertising and consumerism, the dominance of multinational corporations, the geopolitical rivalry among imperial states, and the commercialisation of leisure time. Its economic framework is closely tied to political aims, serving as a tool for capital accumulation and perpetuating bourgeois ideology. Behind the festive public image, the event masks underlying social relations like exploitation, coercion, and state violence, turning them into a symbolic celebration that hides these realities.

This explains why every effort to “clean up” FIFA is destined to fail. The corruption isn't just a flaw; it serves as the system's way of managing a worldwide commodity spectacle in a world divided by inequality.

FIFA as a Transnational Bourgeois Apparatus

Many liberal commentators continue to see FIFA as a once-virtuous organisation betrayed by corrupt officials. However, historical evidence shows the opposite. Since its early days, FIFA has operated as a para-state entity aligned with the global bourgeoisie, serving as an intermediary among imperial powers, emerging capitalist leaders, authoritarian regimes seeking legitimacy, multinational corporations hunting for markets, and media conglomerates seeking content.

The evolution from Havelange to Blatter and Infantino signifies a structural transformation rather than a moral decline. With the rise of global capitalism into its neoliberal stage, FIFA grew more centralised, financially dependent, reliant on authoritarian hosts, intertwined with geopolitical tactics, and increasingly detached from democratic oversight.

Assigning tournaments to Mussolini’s Italy, Videla’s Argentina, Putin’s Russia, and the Qatari monarchy reflects not just rare exceptions but the natural result of an institution that transforms political influence into economic gain, and economic gain into political legitimacy.

The Trump–Infantino alliance epitomises this development. The 2026 World Cup marks the first to explicitly embody the convergence of oligarchic wealth, authoritarian state power, xenophobic nationalism, militarised policing, and the suppression of political dissent. The disturbing image of Infantino handing Trump a massive ticket to the final—“row 1, seat 1, ticket no. 45/47”—is more than a curiosity. It symbolises the new political landscape: the world’s most popular sport has been taken over by the most reactionary segments of the global elite.

The Working Class: From Invisible Victim to Revolutionary Subject

A notable aspect of liberal commentary on the World Cup is how it largely omits the working class as an active political force. The migrant workers who died in Qatar, the displaced residents of Rio’s favelas, the shack dwellers evicted in Cape Town, and the North Korean labourers building stadiums in St. Petersburg are all depicted solely as victims, rather than as agents with agency.

This is not an oversight; rather, it is a political necessity for bourgeois journalism, which may reveal abuses but cannot recognise the social force capable of ending them. A Marxist perspective emphasises that the migrant worker in Doha, the favela resident in Rio, the shack-dweller in Cape Town, the stadium labourer in St. Petersburg, and the fan priced out of 2026 are not isolated victims. Instead, they are part of a single, international class. Their exploitation is systemic, not accidental, and their suffering is integral to the functioning of global capitalism.

The working class pioneered modern football by building stadiums, producing players, and cultivating the culture that turned the sport into a global phenomenon. The takeover of football by oligarchs and authoritarian regimes reflects the larger trend of social life being appropriated by finance capital. The goal isn’t just to reform FIFA but to rally the working class as a revolutionary force to reclaim both sport and society from capitalist control.

Nationalism as Bourgeois Ideology

Wilson’s cultural analysis of national football styles—such as Argentina’s pibe mythology, Brazil’s futebol arte, and Dutch totaalvoetbal—is perceptive but not comprehensive. It views national identity mainly as a form of cultural expression rather than as a political tool.

Nationalism in sport isn't a vibrant tradition but a bourgeois ideology that serves specific functions: to obscure class conflicts, divert collective emotion from political struggles, legitimise the nation-state as the core of capitalist growth, divide workers with shared interests, and provide a controlled outlet for aggression and identity. The 'black-blanc-beur' myth of 1998 and the racialised accusations of 2010 aren't contradictions but different expressions of the same ideological toolset. The ruling class uses multicultural symbols when convenient and racial scapegoating when advantageous. Both serve as instruments of control.

The World Cup serves as a key tool for promoting nationalist ideology today. It makes workers experience their collective emotions primarily as Argentines, Brazilians, or Englishmen—not simply as members of a global class.

The 2026 World Cup and the Authoritarian Degeneration of Capitalism

The 2026 tournament signifies a significant shift. The merging of sport, state violence, and oligarchic influence has advanced to a point where liberal illusions are now outdated. Some notable features include: ICE agents stationed at stadiums, Iranian players banned from spending a night in the US, Haitian players ordered to remove symbols commemorating Napoleon’s defeated slave-reimposition army, Somali referees detained for eleven hours and expelled, dynamic pricing excluding the working class, and Trump threatening military action against co-host Mexico while accepting a “Peace Prize” from Infantino. This is not an anomaly but the logical culmination of a process that has been developing for decades: the authoritarian decline of global capitalism. The World Cup now serves as a stage on which the crisis of bourgeois democracy is vividly displayed.

Historical Case Studies: The World Cup as a Political Instrument of Capitalist Rule

1934: Mussolini’s Fascist Pageant and the Birth of the Political World Cup

The 1934 World Cup in Italy is often dismissed as an embarrassing anomaly—perceived as a moment when an authoritarian regime politicised the event. However, it actually marked the first explicit display of the tournament’s political role within a capitalist context. Benito Mussolini viewed the World Cup as an instrument of statecraft. The fascist government organised mass rallies, choreographed crowds, militarised police, propaganda posters, diplomatic pressure on referees, and intimidation tactics aimed at opposing teams. Their goal was to turn the tournament into a showcase of national unity and imperial ambition. Italy’s victory was not just a sporting achievement but a carefully staged celebration of fascist ideology.

The idea that FIFA was “helpless” before Mussolini is proved false upon closer examination. FIFA actively collaborated with the regime, with officials praising its "efficiency” and “organisation.” The tournament showed that, from its early days, the World Cup could be exploited by authoritarian regimes because its centralised, opaque, and commercially driven structure made it susceptible to political influence. The 1934 tournament wasn't an exception; it revealed the true nature of the World Cup’s vulnerability to political misuse.

1978: Videla’s Argentina and the Counterrevolutionary Function of Sport

The 1934 World Cup showed its susceptibility to fascist influence, while the 1978 tournament in Argentina exposed how it also served the counterrevolutionary strategies of the bourgeoisie. After a US-backed military coup in 1976, the Argentine junta, which took power, was responsible for 30,000 disappearances, organised torture, the killing of trade unionists, students, and left-wing militants, and suppressed all democratic rights. The World Cup was a key part of the junta’s political plan to internationalise the dictatorship, build national unity, silence the voices of the tortured within the ESMA detention centre near the stadium, and shift social unrest into nationalist fervour.

The junta’s interference in the tournament grew grotesque. The notorious 6–0 win over Peru—achieved through diplomatic pressure, economic incentives, and military threats—was a political move by the regime. It secured Argentina’s place in the final and gave the dictatorship a symbolic victory amid worsening economic conditions. The 1978 World Cup was more than just "tainted"; it was a covert counterrevolutionary effort. It showed that the tournament could serve both to legitimise authoritarian governments and to suppress revolutionary movements.

3. 2014: Brazil, Neoliberalism, and the Militarisation of Urban Space

The 2014 World Cup in Brazil exemplified the integration of the tournament into the neoliberal framework. While the Workers’ Party (PT) government promoted it as a symbol of national progress and global stature, it actually functioned as a testing ground for urban militarisation and the displacement of impoverished communities. This included the forced eviction of over 200,000 residents, destruction of informal housing, deployment of militarised police forces, creation of “exclusion zones” near stadiums, criminalisation of protests, and the transfer of billions in public money to private firms.

The PT government, praised by Western liberals as a model of “progressive governance,” functioned as an agent of FIFA and the Brazilian bourgeoisie. It used tear gas, rubber bullets, and mass arrests to suppress widespread protests. The favelas were militarised under the guise of “pacification.” The 2014 World Cup exposed neoliberalism's true nature: the merging of corporate influence and state violence, the commercialisation of public spaces, and the prioritisation of global capital over social needs.

2018: Putin’s Russia and the Normalisation of Authoritarian Capitalism

The 2018 World Cup in Russia received widespread praise from Western journalists for its “smooth organisation” and “friendly atmosphere." However, this praise was not just naive; it was politically motivated. It helped normalise Vladimir Putin's authoritarian capitalist regime and hid the social conditions that enabled the tournament to take place.

The Russian state used forced labour, including North Korean workers, along with mass surveillance and suppression of political opposition. It also cleared homeless populations from city centres and built stadiums amid corruption and exploitation. The tournament aimed to: restore Russia’s international image following the annexation of Crimea, strengthen Putin’s political legitimacy domestically, showcase the ability of an authoritarian capitalist regime to organise large-scale events, and deepen Russia’s integration into global financial markets.

The enthusiastic coverage of the 2018 tournament exposed the ideological failure of Western journalism. It demonstrated that authoritarian regimes are often justified—sometimes even praised—when they produce a spectacle that aligns with FIFA's commercial goals and entertains the middle class.

2022: Qatar and the Apotheosis of Oligarchic Power

The 2022 World Cup in Qatar marked a significant shift in the event's political and economic landscape. An authoritarian government did not just host it; it was supported by a labour system that can be characterised as neo-slavery. Construction workers faced a tragic toll, with over 6,500 migrant workers dying during the process. The event was built on practices such as the kafala system—binding workers to their employers, confiscation of passports, unpaid wages, extreme heat, hazardous working conditions, suppression of trade unions, and criminalisation of dissent.

Qatar spent more than £200 billion on the tournament, exceeding the GDP of many nations. This wasn't a reckless spend but a calculated move by a petro-monarchy aiming to gain geopolitical influence, international legitimacy, integration into Western security frameworks, economic diversification, and to strengthen its ruling elite. The 2022 World Cup exemplifies how modern tournaments serve as platforms to turn human suffering into geopolitical leverage and commercial gain.

2026: The Trump–Infantino Axis and the Authoritarian Degeneration of Bourgeois Democracy

The 2026 World Cup, jointly hosted by the United States, Mexico, and Canada, signifies a political shift in the tournament. It is the first to openly reflect the merging of oligarchic wealth, authoritarian government, xenophobic nationalism, militarised policing, and suppression of dissent. During the Trump era, the tournament has become a stage for ICE agents monitoring events, Iranian players being banned from overnight stays in the US, Haitian players ordered to remove symbols honouring Napoleon’s defeat, Somali referees detained for eleven hours before expulsion, and pricing strategies excluding the working class. Trump has also threatened military action against co-host Mexico while accepting a “Peace Prize” from FIFA’s Infantino.

The shocking image of Infantino handing Trump a large ticket to the final—“row 1, seat 1, ticket no. 45/47”—is more than just an oddity. It symbolises the decline of global capitalism into authoritarianism. The 2026 World Cup is not a break from its past; it represents its inevitable culmination.

Looking at these six instances—1934, 1978, 2014, 2018, 2022, 2026—the pattern is clear: the World Cup consistently serves as a political tool for the ruling class throughout different stages of capitalism. The World Cup is not corrupted by capitalism. It is capitalism.

Marxism, Sport, and Ideology: Why a Marxist Theory of Sport Is Necessary

The liberal perspective views sport as a pure domain—an independent cultural space driven by merit, creativity, and fairness. When issues such as corruption, exploitation, or authoritarianism arise, they are seen as external influences. The goal of this approach is to "shield" sport from political interference.

Marxism starts from a different assumption. Sports, like all aspects of society, are influenced by the material conditions of their creation. It is not an independent domain but a social relationship intertwined with capitalism's economic, political, and ideological systems. To grasp the significance of the World Cup is to understand: the commodification of leisure, the perpetuation of bourgeois ideology, the function of the nation-state, the global division of labour, the methods of social control, and the contradictions inherent in capitalist modernity.

Sport and the Commodity Form

Marx’s analysis of the commodity form provides the foundation for understanding modern sport. Under capitalism, human activity becomes a commodity—something produced for exchange rather than for its intrinsic value. Sport is no exception.

The transformation of play into a commodity

In pre-capitalist societies, games served as communal recreation. With capitalism, they transformed into: ticketed events, broadcast products, advertising platforms, vehicles for corporate sponsorship, and instruments of state diplomacy. The athlete becomes a commodity, with their labour bought and sold. Fans become consumers whose emotional ties are monetised. The match itself becomes a product, its value realised through broadcasting rights, merchandise, and worldwide distribution.

Just as commodity fetishism hides the social relations of production, the sporting spectacle masks several realities: the exploitation of workers, state violence, capitalist interests, and ideological control mechanisms. The World Cup is presented as a celebration of unity, yet it relies on migrant workers' labour, displaces people with low incomes, and reinforces oligarchic power.

Obscuring class antagonisms

Sport serves as a symbolic space where class conflicts are projected onto harmless rivalries. Workers facing exploitation at work are often encouraged to identify not with their class but with a club, a nation, a team, or a star player. This form of identification masks the genuine conflict between labour and capital.

The World Cup serves as a potent means of reproducing nationalist ideology today. It converts the nation-state—originally a tool of capitalist dominance—into a source of emotional pride. Workers from different countries, who share similar interests, are led to view each other as competitors. In reality, workers do not have a direct conflict; their ruling classes do. 

Sport is not an escape from capitalism but a key tool of capitalism. The World Cup exemplifies the influence of global capitalism's political, economic, and ideological systems, rather than being tainted by politics.

Conclusion: The Socialist Reappropriation of Sport

The World Cup at the End of Capitalist Modernity

It is hoped that the reader concludes from this article that the World Cup is not an anomaly within capitalist society but a concentrated expression of it. Its history—from Mussolini’s fascist mobilisation in 1934 to the Trump–Infantino authoritarian spectacle of 2026—reflects the evolution of global capitalism: the ascent of imperialism, the consolidation of monopoly capitalism, the use of mass spectacle as a political tool, the neoliberal commodification of all aspects of life, and the authoritarian decline of bourgeois democracy.

The World Cup exemplifies capitalism worldwide: a spectacle based on exploitation, controlled by oligarchs, sanctioned by governments, and watched by a public whose enthusiasm is more about national pride than class struggle. The liberal criticism that “football has turned political” overlooks history; football has always held political meaning. What changes is the current phase of capitalist decline in which this politicisation happens.

The Working Class as the Agent of Reappropriation

The working class isn't just a victim of the injustices surrounding the World Cup; it is also the origin of modern football and the key social force to reclaim it. Modern football developed from Britain's industrial working class, the communal culture of factory towns, the collective rhythms of proletarian life, and the desire for recreation amid exploitation. The sport’s beauty—its spontaneity, creativity, and collective intelligence—stems from working-class culture. Today, the working class constructs stadiums, produces players, fills stands, creates the atmosphere, sustains the global fanbase, and provides the labour that makes matches possible. Meanwhile, the oligarchs who dominate football offer nothing culturally; they only extract value from it.

The working class must reclaim the game.

Reclaiming football is intertwined with the wider fight for socialism. It involves expropriating FIFA, ending the profit motive in sports, establishing democratic control over sporting institutions, enforcing international labour standards, dismantling nationalist competitions, and transforming sport into a public good. This is not an impractical ideal but the logical outcome of the historical analysis outlined in this article.

4. What a Socialist Reorganisation of Sport Would Mean

A socialist transformation of sport would not abolish competition or eliminate excellence. It would liberate them from the distortions of capital. Under socialism, sport would become: a form of collective self-expression, a means of physical and cultural development, a site of international cooperation, a public good accessible to all.

The beauty of football—the creativity of the dribble, the intelligence of the pass, the collective movement of the team—would no longer be subordinated to the demands of profit, nationalism, or authoritarian spectacle.

Internationalism instead of nationalism

The socialist reorganization of sports would shift focus from nationalist rivalry to international cooperation, aligning with the true interests of the global working class. The Argentine and English workers are not enemies; their oppressors are. A socialist sports culture would reveal this reality instead of hiding it. As Peter Schwarz mentioned in the WSWS’s critique of the Qatar World Cup, “Cultural progress and genuine sport, which are unaffected by commerce, are only achievable through the fight for socialism.” This statement is factual, not just rhetoric. To restore the true essence of the game, we need revolutionary change, not nostalgia, moral appeals, or reform.

The task ahead

The socialist reclaiming of sport is part of a larger effort to expropriate the oligarchy, abolish the profit-driven system, dismantle the nation-state, build an international socialist movement, and reorganize society around human needs. Football belongs to all of humanity and must be taken back by the people.

The current shape of the World Cup stands as a symbol of capitalist decline. However, the passion it evokes—manifested through collective joy, creativity, and shared humanity—transcends capitalism. It demonstrates that ordinary people can craft beauty, solidarity, and purpose even amid exploitation.

Socialism's goal is to free these abilities from capital's control. The working class created modern football, keeps it running, and must take it back. Only through global socialism can the beautiful game and the world that cherishes it be truly enhanced.

 

The Limits of Journalistic “Infiltration”: Liberal Anti Fascism and the Political Disorientation of the Working Class

The Guardian’s recent undercover investigation by Harry Shukman, which depicts his personal efforts to infiltrate far-right groups, highlights the political emptiness of the liberal middle class. The piece functions more as a performative act, portraying the journalist as a solitary guardian defending “democracy” against an external threat. However, this entire story is built on a fundamentally flawed premise. The far right is not an outsider threatening the mainstream; rather, it is a harmful outgrowth of the very mainstream itself.[1]

As the Socialist Equality Party (UK) stated during the 2024 anti-immigrant riots, the rise of fascist tendencies reflects the core struggles of imperialist politics and capitalist decline. Faced with worsening economic crises, intensifying geopolitical tensions, and growing opposition from the working class, the ruling class increasingly adopts nationalism, xenophobia, and authoritarian measures. These are not isolated incidents but intentional ideological strategies of a capitalist system in deepening crisis.

The Guardian’s framing—highlighting Shakman’s personal choice to "fight,” the perceived "encroachment" of the far right, and portraying the political centre as a steady democratic stronghold—only masks the true situation. This is a political myth, and a risky one.

The far right is incubated by the political mainstream, not external to it.

The core message of the SEP’s document is clear: "The far right does not ‘encroach’ on the mainstream; it is incubated by it.” This is not just a rhetorical device but a factual statement. For years, successive Labour and Conservative governments have created the conditions that allow fascist movements to flourish—through austerity, militarism, anti-immigrant scapegoating, and the systematic deterioration of working-class living standards.

Instead of changing this course, Starmer’s Labour government has actually worsened it. It came into power promising to “stop the boats,” deport “illegal” migrants, and uphold the fiscal constraints set by financial markets. Yvette Cooper’s summer police raids on immigrants were not a concession to the far right but a manifestation of their agenda executed from the top down. The fascists did not need to “encroach.” The state was already doing their work.

The liberal press: oscillating between exposure and legitimisation

The Guardian’s role here is fundamental, not accidental. It fluctuates between shocking exposés of the far right and sympathetic broadcasting of the ideas that support it. As noted, the Guardian gave lenient coverage to men imprisoned for setting fire to a hotel with 200 asylum seekers in Rotherham, portraying their “feelings of injustice” as deserving attention.

This isn’t hypocrisy; it’s class politics. The liberal media tries to keep its credibility with the middle class by condemning fascism, while also endorsing anti-immigrant narratives that support Labour and Conservative policies. Both roles benefit the ruling class by redirecting social anger away from capitalism and onto the most vulnerable.

The “infiltration” model: individualising fascism, obscuring capitalism

The undercover journalist method is not only inadequate but also creates political confusion. It portrays fascism as a matter of individual morality—focusing on "particularly nasty individuals,” secret Telegram channels, and covert networks—rather than understanding it as a social problem caused by the crisis of capitalism. It turns a political and social phenomenon rooted in the crisis of the capitalist system into a problem of especially malicious individuals.”

This individualisation aligns closely with the state’s law-and-order approach. Starmer’s response to the 2024 riots—featuring mass arrests, rapid courts, and a new national police force of 6,000—was praised by the liberal media as essential for maintaining “public order.” However, these repressive tactics are actually being set up to target the working class: striking workers, anti-war protesters, and anyone opposing capital's influence.

The infiltration model, supported by NGOs like Hope Not Hate, suggests that police, courts, and security agencies are allies in combating fascism. However, this is a political trap. The capitalist state does not serve as a safeguard against fascism; instead, it functions as the tool through which the ruling class creates the circumstances for fascism to develop.

HOPE not hate exemplifies what Trotskyism recognises as the core political dead end of liberal anti-fascism. Despite its sincere self-description, it reveals an organisation whose class stance, political approach, and strategic outlook position it not as a remedy to the far-right threat but as a component of the structural issue.

HOPE not hate is not a grassroots group. It is a professional NGO, run by "researchers, educators, community activists and policy experts"—essentially, the upper-middle class. Its funding, charitable status, and strategic focus on "building skills and resilience across communities and civil society organisations" reflect the language of the non-profit sector rather than class activism. The working class doesn't require middle-class experts to "build its resilience." It needs an independent political party with a revolutionary socialist agenda.

The organisation's mission centres on moral concepts such as "hope," "hate," "togetherness," and "unity," which deliberately conceal the class roots of both fascism and its opposition. Fascism is not merely a psychological flaw or a set of corrupt values. It is "a concentrated expression of imperialist politics and capitalist decay." The ruling classes foster extreme nationalism and xenophobia to divert social tensions toward the right, support imperialist wars, and undermine the democratic and social rights of workers. An organisation that fails to identify capitalism as the root cause of the far-right threat cannot effectively lead the fight against it.

Defending the state that breeds fascism

HOPE not hate's self-description reveals a strong commitment to "defend, champion and promote democracy and the rule of law; speaking out against anti-democratic and authoritarian forces and policies." This statement signifies loyalty to the British capitalist state — the same state whose policies consistently foster conditions for far-right expansion.

This ongoing state, maintained through successive Labour and Conservative governments, has led to imperialist wars, decades of austerity, anti-immigrant nationalism, and the systematic erosion of the working class's social standing. The far-right riots in Britain in August 2024 occurred less than a month after the Starmer Labour government assumed power on a platform of militarism, austerity, and promises to "stop the boats." Home Secretary Yvette Cooper announced a "summer blitz" of police raids on immigrants just days before the violence broke out. The far right thrives on the toxic environment created by the very parties that shape public life.

An anti-fascism committed to defending the state apparatus is politically ineffective. It views fascism merely as an outside threat to a supposedly healthy democracy — a false belief that disarmed the German working class in the 1930s. The working class cannot overcome fascism by simply defending the bourgeois state; it must be ready to dismantle it and establish institutions of workers' power.

The NGO trap: policing opposition into safe channels

HOPE not hate's approach — "creating a platform for ordinary people to do the extraordinary," "supporting the wider sector to have greater impact," "effective collaboration and sharing of skills" — exemplifies how anti-fascism can shift from a political fight to a structured, grant-supported sector. The organisation channels public frustration over racism and the far right into activities compatible with the capitalist system: community workshops, educational programs, policy advocacy, and "alternative narratives."

This is not a failure of execution but a function. Such NGOs are tasked with absorbing, containing, and neutralising the social opposition created by capitalism, preventing it from evolving into an independent political threat to the system. HOPE not hate's researchers may infiltrate far-right groups. Still, the organisation will never advocate for the political mobilisation of the working class against the Labour Party, trade union bureaucracy, or the capitalist state, which are the primary enablers of the far right.

The Searchlight lineage

HOPE not hate originates from Searchlight magazine, a British anti-fascist publication known for its collaboration with intelligence and police agencies, and for its persistent criticism of the revolutionary left. Searchlight established the model of anti-fascism as an intelligence operation focused on the state, viewing fascists as a criminal-psychological issue for authorities to manage rather than a political force to be challenged by the organised working class. HOPE not hate has adapted this approach for the modern NGO landscape—more refined, emphasising community engagement, yet maintaining the same political stance: supporting the state, marginalising revolutionaries, and keeping the working class politically passive.

What genuine anti-fascism requires

The fight against the far right can't rely solely on 'togetherness and unity' across classes. It demands independent political action by the working class—the vast majority—against capitalism. This involves politically breaking away from the Labour Party, whose anti-immigrant nationalism and austerity policies foster far-right growth. It also means establishing rank-and-file committees to challenge the trade union bureaucracy, which collaborates with the state and corporations to suppress class struggle. An international effort is necessary to oppose imperialist wars—such as leaving NATO, ending the Ukraine conflict, and opposing the Gaza genocide—since militarism and fascism are interconnected. The goal is to fight for a socialist program that unites British and immigrant workers against their exploiters, rather than supporting liberal 'multiculturalism' that preserves capitalist class relations.

HOPE not hate hinders all these efforts. Its "hope" is that capitalism can become fairer. However, the working class requires a different hope — the revolutionary overthrow of the system that generates fascism. The struggle against the far right is inherently linked to the fight against capitalism. Any effort to treat fascism as an external threat instead of a result of the capitalist system only weakens the working class.

Shukman’s personal bravery is unquestioned. However, his narrative serves a clear political purpose: it replaces the collective struggle of the working class with the actions of a courageous middle-class individual. It fosters illusions about the state, downplays Labour and union roles, and shifts the focus away from the root cause of the problem—the capitalist system itself.

The working class should reject this version of anti-fascism. Its role isn't to cheer on journalistic infiltrations but to create its own struggle organisations, unite across nations, and fight for a socialist solution to the capitalist crisis that fuels fascism. Only through such a movement can the far right be truly defeated—not just exposed or infiltrated, but rooted out.

 



[1] A year of hate: what I learned when I went undercover with the far right-www.theguardian.com

Saturday, 20 June 2026

Howard Zinn and the Limits of Moral Radicalism: A Marxist Critique of American Historical Consciousness

The current crisis in American capitalism highlights a growing global challenge: social inequality has reached unprecedented heights, with wealth heavily concentrated in the hands of a small oligarchy, undermining democratic legitimacy. Meanwhile, militarism, authoritarianism, and the erosion of civil liberties are on the rise, and social cohesion is breaking down. Despite increased global economic integration, these issues are complex and cannot be solved by any single national ruling class.¹

In these conditions, grasping history becomes highly politically significant. The working class, driven into conflict by capitalist realities, confronts immediate issues of exploitation and oppression, as well as the ideological remnants of the past. The persistent leadership crisis in the global working class is closely tied to a wider crisis of historical consciousness.²

The ongoing popularity of Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States should be understood in this context. For many, particularly young people encountering radical ideas for the first time, Zinn’s book provides an essential entry point for critically analysing American history. It exposes the violence of colonial expansion, the brutality of slavery, the suppression of labour movements, and the imperialist tendencies in foreign policy.³

These contributions are meaningful, showing a widespread desire to understand their world and pursue social change. However, Zinn’s popularity also exposes the limits of radicalism that dismiss Marxism’s scientific principles. Today’s crises require more than just outrage—they need clarity; more than just exposing issues—they need explanations; and beyond simple resistance, we need effective strategies.⁴

Howard Zinn and the Appeal of Moral Radicalism

Howard Zinn’s work connects deeply because it highlights a key truth: neutrality cannot exist in a society divided by exploitation and oppression. “In a world riven by class conflict, war, and exploitation, the pretence of neutrality is itself a political position.”⁵ This idea, which Zinn encapsulated in his memoir title You Can’t Be Neutral on a Moving Train, reflects the moral necessity felt by many who oppose modern injustices.

Zinn’s historical narrative centres on a clear dichotomy: “resistance” versus “control.' The oppressed—comprising workers, enslaved individuals, women, Indigenous communities, and antiwar advocates—stand on one side. The other side features powerful corporations, governments, militaries, and elites. According to Zinn, history is a chronicle of the ongoing conflict between these opposing forces.⁶

This framework appeals emotionally by affirming the dignity of the oppressed and emphasising ordinary people's agency. It also questions the complacency of official narratives. However, this moral clarity has limitations. Zinn’s binary of “resistance” versus “control” cannot replace a scientific analysis of society. It fails to explain the root causes of oppression, how it persists, or which social forces can end it.⁷

Zinn’s history features heroes and villains rather than classes and their conflicting interests. It tells a story of moral outrage instead of offering a materialist analysis of capitalism’s workings.⁸

The Philosophical Roots of Zinn’s Method: From Feuerbach to the New Left

To understand the limitations of Zinn’s method, one must explore its philosophical origins. His approach is not Marxist; instead, it aligns more with Engels' description of Feuerbach’s “old materialism." This form of materialism acknowledges an external world but does not fully grasp the dialectical connection between social being and social consciousness.⁹

Feuerbach’s materialism was mainly contemplative, aiming to describe the world rather than analyse its internal contradictions or transformative forces. It categorised historical figures as noble or ignoble, oppressed or oppressors, without examining the social relations that created these distinctions.¹⁰

Zinn’s approach reflects these constraints. His history mainly records moral struggles rather than offering a scientific view of how society develops. While he notes oppression, he does not explore the mechanisms that create it. He also documents acts of resistance but overlooks the conditions that turn resistance into revolutionary change.¹¹

This approach situates Zinn within the broader context of the American New Left, which emerged in the 1960s as a critique of American imperialism's crimes and the Soviet Union's bureaucratic decline. The New Left rejected Marxism not due to a comprehensive refutation, but because it linked Marxism to Stalinist regimes that falsely represented it.¹²

The outcome was a political stance emphasising personal authenticity, local activism, and spontaneous resistance, while dismissing the necessity for a revolutionary party, a scientific analysis of capitalism, or a strategic focus on the working class.¹³

The New Left and the Eclipse of Marxism

The rise of the New Left in the late 1950s and 1960s responded to deep contradictions within American and global capitalism. Although the postwar boom temporarily stabilised the capitalist system, its limitations started to emerge. The civil rights movement highlighted the cruelty of racial injustice, while the Vietnam War exposed the imperialist core of American foreign policy. Additionally, the Soviet Union's bureaucratic decline discredited the Stalinist assertion that it represented socialism. Consequently, a new wave of students and intellectuals pursued radical alternatives.

Despite its energy and moral fervour, the New Left struggled to craft a clear revolutionary strategy. Its opposition to Marxism, dismissal of the working class as the driver of history, and eclectic philosophical influences left it politically powerless. Instead of resolving the crisis of American radicalism, it embodied it.

The failure of the New Left was intentional, stemming from its class makeup, ideological roots, and political stance. It was driven by a segment of the middle class—students, academics, and professionals—who were truly dissatisfied with the current system. However, their social standing inclined them more toward moral protest than revolutionary change.

The legacy of the New Left still influences today's political discussions. Its focus on identity, culture, and personal authenticity, along with its scepticism of class analysis, hostility to revolutionary parties, and celebration of spontaneity, remains evident in different forms. Recognising the New Left is crucial to understanding the ideological barriers currently facing the working class.

The Philosophical Foundations: From Existentialism to Post‑Marxism

The New Left’s rejection of Marxism was driven more by the intellectual trends of the postwar era—such as existentialism, pragmatism, and neo-Kantianism—than by a deep engagement with Marxist ideas. These philosophies focused on individual experience, moral decision-making, and personal authenticity, dismissing the notion that objective laws govern history or that social classes have fixed roles.

This intellectual environment led the New Left to see Marxism as deterministic, authoritarian, or obsolete. The atrocities committed by Stalinist regimes, wrongly portrayed as the natural result of Marxist ideas, strengthened this view. Consequently, the New Left lumped Marxism together with Stalinism, dismissing both without making a clear distinction.

Instead of historical materialism, the New Left adopted a moralistic and voluntarist view of politics. They believed social change resulted from individual dedication, grassroots activism, and spontaneous protests. The working class was regarded not as a revolutionary force but as a conservative one, corrupted by consumerism or absorbed into the system.

This philosophical stance had significant political implications. It caused the New Left to underestimate the structural strength of the capitalist state, overvalue the transformative power of student movements, and dismiss the need for a revolutionary party. It shifted focus from strategic planning to symbolic acts, from careful analysis to indignation, and from organised effort to spontaneous action.

The Class Basis of the New Left

The ideological tendencies of the New Left mirrored its class makeup. It mainly arose among students and intellectuals rather than industrial workers. Its prominent leaders were from the middle class, which has a complex relationship with capitalism — oppressed by it yet reliant on it. While the middle class criticises the system, it also fears revolutionary upheaval.

This ambivalence influenced the politics of the New Left, which moved between harsh critiques of capitalism and calls for reform. It dismissed the working class as the revolutionary agent but did not propose an alternative social force. Instead, it focused on personal authenticity, lifestyle choices, and cultural rebellion—protests that voice dissatisfaction without challenging the core of capitalist power.

The New Left’s focus on class also sheds light on its opposition to the revolutionary party. In the Marxist view, the party represents the structured expression of the working class’s collective interests, demanding discipline, clear theory, and strategic focus. Such qualities clashed with the movement’s roots in middle-class individualism and anti-authoritarian principles.

The New Left’s suspicion of organisation was not a rejection of bureaucracy but a reflection of its own social position. It rejected the discipline of the working class while reproducing, in its own structures, the informal hierarchies and charismatic leadership typical of middle‑class movements.

The New Left and the Question of the Working Class

The primary limitation of the New Left was its denial of the working class as the true agent of revolutionary change. This denial was rationalised through various arguments, such as the belief that the working class was “bought off” by consumerist culture, integrated into the existing system, or made conservative by the welfare state. However, these claims were rooted more in ideological bias than in factual analysis.

The working class, rather than becoming part of the system, continued to be exploited. Its labour kept generating societal wealth. Its efforts—ranging from the mass strikes of the 1960s and 1970s to the current global wave of labour unrest—showed its ability for collective action. However, the New Left, unable to see beyond its own class perspective, failed to recognise this potential.

The New Left’s rejection of the working class led it to seek alternative agents of change: students, peasants, guerrilla movements, and marginalised groups. These forces played important roles in various struggles, but none possessed the structural power of the working class. The New Left’s search for substitutes reflected its inability to grasp the material foundations of revolutionary politics.

The consequences were severe. The New Left movements, disconnected from the working class, could be easily isolated, suppressed, or absorbed. Their wins were only partial and short-lived, while their losses were significant. Without revolutionary leadership, the working class stayed politically confused.

The New Left and the State: The Illusion of Spontaneity

The New Left’s rejection of Marxism led to an underestimation of the power of the capitalist state. It viewed the state not as a means of maintaining class control but as a neutral arena that protests could influence. It was thought that spontaneous protests, moral appeals, or cultural movements could bring societal change without directly confronting the dominant power of capital.

This illusion was repeatedly broken. The civil rights movement, though morally compelling, encountered violent suppression. Despite large-scale protests, the antiwar movement failed to stop imperialist actions. Police and military units suppressed student protests. Time and again, the state proved it would use violence to protect capitalist interests.

The New Left’s inability to grasp the nature of the state stemmed from its rejection of Marxism. According to Marxism, the state isn't a neutral body; it represents the organised power of the ruling class. Reforming it isn't possible through moral appeals or spontaneous protests. Instead, it requires a revolutionary working-class movement organised in a party capable of challenging capitalist dominance.

The New Left’s misconceptions about the state caused it to overlook the importance of organisation, strategy, and leadership. It confused spontaneity with strength and moral passion with real influence, ultimately leading to political ineffectiveness.

The Legacy of the New Left: Identity, Culture, and the Eclipse of Class

The influence of the New Left persisted beyond its political fall. Its concepts were integrated into academia, media, and cultural institutions. The focus on identity, culture, and personal experience gained prominence in numerous intellectual communities. Additionally, its scepticism towards class analysis and opposition to Marxism influenced the evolution of postmodernism, post-Marxism, and various identity politics movements.

These tendencies have severely harmed modern political dialogue. They divide the working class into conflicting identities, hide the fundamental capitalist structures, and replace the pursuit of universal emancipation with specific demands. The focus shifts from labour exploitation to recognition politics, and from fighting capitalism to overseeing diversity.

The legacy of the New Left thus fosters ideological confusion among the working class. It provides moral critique lacking material analysis, promotes cultural rebellion without strategic political plans, and emphasises identity-based grievances without proposing a universal emancipatory project. Consequently, it strengthens the fragmentation that capitalism depends on to sustain its dominance.

The Political Consequences: Radicalism Without Strategy

The shortcomings of Zinn’s approach are most clear when considering his political conclusions. For decades, Zinn highlighted the brutality of American capitalism, the hypocrisy of its ruling classes, and the ways dissent is co-opted and subdued. He stated that elections function “to consolidate the system after years of protest and rebellion.”¹⁴

However, when faced with the political crises of his era, Zinn often relied on the very institutions he had long critiqued. He believed in the moral transformation of individuals over the organised influence of the working class .¹⁵

This contradiction was not due to personal weakness. It stems from a politics that replaces class analysis with moral sentiment. Without a scientific grasp of capitalism, a theory of the state, or a view of the working class as the agent of revolutionary change, radicalism naturally falls into compromise.¹⁶

The history of American radicalism is full of such cases, where movements starting with protests against injustice eventually come to accept the current system .¹⁷

The Historical Function of Liberalism and the Co-Option of Social Movements

Throughout American history, liberalism has been key to maintaining capitalist dominance. It claims to defend democracy, push for reforms, and offer a rational alternative to extremism. However, its true role is to direct social unrest into controlled channels, absorb and neutralise opposition, and uphold the core elements of this dynamic that Zinn understood, documenting how liberal institutions have absorbed social movements. However, his distancing from Marxism prevented him from making essential strategic conclusions. While he acknowledged liberalism's failures, he did not recognise its underlying class foundation.²⁰ Without a Marxist analysis of liberalism, Zinn’s critique remained moral rather than material.²¹

The Marxist Conception of History and the Role of the Working Class

Marxism starts from a fundamentally different basis than Zinn’s moral radicalism. It does not separate history into the noble and the ignoble, the oppressed and the oppressors. Instead, it examines society through the lens of classes, defined by their relationship to the means of production.

According to Marxism, the working class isn't just another oppressed group; it serves as the revolutionary force in history because its role within capitalism gives it both a natural interest and the capacity to overthrow the system. ²³

Society's transformation relies not on individual moral awakening, sudden acts of resistance, or guards disobeying orders. Instead, it depends on a deliberate, organised, international struggle led by a revolutionary party that understands the scientific laws governing capitalism.²⁴ This perspective is absent from Zinn’s work.²⁵

The Strategic Tasks of the Present Period

The crisis of global capitalism calls for more than just moral outrage; it necessitates a scientific grasp of the world and a revolutionary plan for change. The working class is beginning to engage in a global struggle.²⁶

But the crisis of leadership remains. The working class cannot spontaneously generate the consciousness required to overthrow capitalism. It requires a revolutionary party rooted in Marxism, armed with an understanding of history, and committed to the international unity of the working class.²⁷

Zinn’s approach is limited by its moralist stance, absence of class analysis, rejection of Marxism, and lack of strategy, making it unable to provide effective leadership.²⁸

Neutrality is unattainable. However, moralism alone cannot suffice. The world is swiftly heading toward either disaster or upheaval. ²⁹

Argumentative Footnotes

  1. Marx’s analysis of capitalism’s contradictions remains the essential starting point for understanding contemporary crises.
  2. Trotsky repeatedly emphasised that the crisis of humanity is the crisis of revolutionary leadership.
  3. Zinn’s narrative is strongest where it exposes the violence of American expansion.
  4. Moral outrage, without scientific analysis, cannot guide revolutionary practice.
  5. Zinn’s phrase captures a truth long understood by Marxists.
  6. This binary structure is central to A People’s History.
  7. Zinn’s framework lacks a theory of the state.
  8. Historical materialism is replaced by moral dualism.
  9. Engels, Ludwig Feuerbach and the End of Classical German Philosophy.
  10. Feuerbach’s contemplative materialism is a precursor to Zinn’s method.
  11. Zinn documents but does not explain.
  12. The New Left’s rejection of Marxism was rooted in confusion about Stalinism.
  13. Spontaneity was elevated above organisation.
  14. Zinn’s critique of elections is accurate but incomplete.
  15. This reflects the limits of moral radicalism.
  16. Without class analysis, radicalism collapses into liberalism.
  17. The pattern recurs throughout U.S. history.
  18. Liberalism stabilises capitalist rule by absorbing dissent.
  19. Zinn’s historical examples are compelling but partial.
  20. Liberalism’s class basis is essential to understanding its function.
  21. Moral critique cannot substitute for material analysis.
  22. Marx, Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy.
  23. The working class is the only revolutionary class.
  24. Trotsky, The Transitional Program.
  25. Zinn never articulates the revolutionary role of the proletariat.
  26. Objective conditions for struggle are emerging globally.
  27. Consciousness must be developed through a revolutionary party.
  28. Zinn’s framework cannot provide strategic leadership.
  29. The decisive question is the intervention of the working class.

 

Friday, 19 June 2026

Booksmaxxing and the Cultural Bankruptcy of the Upper Middle Class

The Guardian and similar liberal-bourgeois outlets celebrate “booksmaxxing,” but this isn’t a sign of a cultural revival. Instead, it reveals the deep decline of bourgeois culture under late capitalism. The term—borrowed from the pseudo-Darwinian language of online manosphere self-optimisation—highlights the social forces at play. As noted, it reduces reading to “another tool for building one’s personal brand… another aesthetic marker to be curated on BookTok, Instagram, or Goodreads.”

This is not a revival of reading. Instead, it represents the commercialisation of reading at its peak—transforming intellectual engagement into a social media spectacle. The book serves as a prop; the reader becomes a self-promoter; and culture morphs into a marketplace of carefully crafted identities.

The Guardian’s enthusiasm for this trend is predictable, reflecting a privileged class whose view of culture is shaped by consumerism and fears of maintaining social status. Their claim that reading is now "sexy" signals not cultural vitality but its decline, highlighting a lack of genuine engagement with art, history, or social issues.

The publishing industry has historically moved away from representing the experiences of the working class. James McDonald’s question—“Where is our Zola?”—is genuine, highlighting a structural truth: the industry is dominated by the upper-middle class, whose preferences and ideological interests shape what gets published, promoted, and celebrated.

The popular genres—romance, YA fantasy, mystery/thriller—are no coincidence. They reflect a social group focused inward, fixated on identity, self-expression, and escapism. In contrast, literary fiction that engages with social issues is considered the least important, as the document notes.

This creates a disturbing scenario in which the lives of hundreds of millions of workers—such as warehouse staff, nurses, delivery drivers, teachers, and cleaners—are rendered invisible within the cultural domain. The “booksmaxxing” bookshelf serves as a showcase of upper-middle-class narcissism, presenting a curated display of aestheticised consumption.

Cultural Decay and the Crisis of Bourgeois Society

Marxists maintain that the cultural crisis is fundamentally connected to the capitalist crisis. David Walsh highlights a core contradiction: despite the existence of conditions conducive to a vibrant global artistic culture, capitalism's social relations hinder its growth. As Leon Trotsky notes, the decline of bourgeois society intensifies social contradictions, creating a pressing demand for liberating art. However, this demand is not fulfilled by today's cultural institutions, which instead suppress it through layers of identity-based censorship, market-driven infantilization, and the ongoing commodification of all human activities.

Booksmaxxing isn't a departure from this process; instead, it represents its outcome. It substitutes authentic intellectual engagement for a shallow show, trading real comprehension for the mere act of reading. 

Self-Optimisation Ideology and the Policing of Culture

The “-maxxing” suffix is more than a meme; it represents the mindset of hustle culture, integrating market principles into personal beliefs. Reading is viewed as a way to build cultural capital, providing a competitive edge in pursuing career and social achievements.

This ideology explains the emergence of “sensitivity readers," who are more accurately described as “DEI inquisitors.” Their role isn't to safeguard readers but to oversee cultural matters in favour of the upper-middle class, enforcing the principles of identity politics and limiting literature to narrow notions of personal authenticity and “lived experience.”

The result is a restrictive atmosphere where artists are told to “stay in their lane,” and attempting to depict social realities beyond their identity group is considered morally wrong. This approach does not signify progress; rather, it results in the fragmentation and depoliticisation of culture, turning art into a series of identity-centred performances.

The Working Class and the Necessity of Cultural Renewal

In this context, the working class requires authentic culture instead of the commercialized copies provided by the upper-middle class. They desire art that directly addresses social issues, pays tribute to ordinary people's lives, and includes—quoting Trotsky—“an element of protest against intolerable conditions.”

This culture cannot emerge from TikTok trends, marketing campaigns, or the self-made rituals of the professional-managerial class. Instead, it can only be cultivated by revitalizing the socialist movement and re-establishing the connection between artistic creation and workers' struggles. The great realist tradition—embodied by Zola, Dickens, Tolstoy, Dreiser, Steinbeck—did not develop spontaneously. It was driven by the growth of the international workers’ movement and the belief that society is understandable and subject to change. Rebuilding this movement is crucial for a genuine cultural revival.

Conclusion

Booksmaxxing does not signify a cultural awakening but instead indicates cultural exhaustion. It exposes the narcissism, insecurity, and ideological emptiness of the upper-middle class, whose dominance over cultural institutions has led to a landscape characterized by triviality, censorship, and self-branding.

The working class holds the duty of cultural renewal, not influencers, publishers, or liberal newspapers. Humanity can develop a new, sincere, and freeing culture solely through the creation of a revolutionary socialist movement.

 

Royal Mail’s £200 Million “Sickness Crisis”: A Manufactured Narrative to Conceal the Human Cost of Corporate Restructuring

The corporate media’s portrayal of Royal Mail’s sickness absence bill as a burden caused by postal workers is a political deception. In reality, the workforce carries the true burden, as their health deteriorates under a restructuring plan pushed by billionaire Daniel Křetínský, with backing from the Labour government and the CWU bureaucracy.

A media narrative built on inversion and deceit

A recent British headline claims that Royal Mail faces a £200 million “sickness bill,” illustrating how Britain's corporate media often serves as a tool for big business interests. The headline portrays sickness absence as a cost imposed by employees, neglecting to recognise it as a consequence of restructuring that harms workers’ health and well-being. The article on 1st Class Chat suggests that postal workers are irresponsibly draining resources. Still, in reality, the sickness figure highlights the human toll of a harsh restructuring that damages workers' health.[1]

This inversion—depicting victims of exploitation as the cause—is intentional. It serves as a calculated ideological strategy to sway public opinion and pave the way for more assaults on the workforce.

The real cause of sickness: impossible workloads and unsafe conditions

The WSWS and the Postal Workers Rank-and-File Committee (PWRFC) have thoroughly documented the conditions that have led to rising sickness rates across Royal Mail. Owned by billionaire Daniel Křetínský’s EP Group—and approved by the Starmer Labour government—Royal Mail is increasingly becoming a low-wage parcel courier similar to Amazon.

The main focus of this change is the Optimised Delivery Model (ODM), which was first trialled at 35 delivery offices and is now being implemented nationwide. The document states that ODM imposes “impossible productivity targets, removes safety protocols like bag weight limits, and has used heart monitors to gauge how much delivery workers can be pushed." Workers describe experiencing extreme exhaustion that makes completing shifts physically impossible; chronic understaffing caused by management’s bans on overtime; rising injuries, burnout, and stress; and such high turnover that offices remain in a constant state of crisis.

A worker at Sheffield’s Woodseats office told the WSWS: “The daily workload is impossible to complete within the shift ... High staff turnover and sickness are common.” These aren't isolated cases but are expected outcomes of a restructuring approach aimed at maximising labour from a declining workforce.

The sickness bill is a cost of exploitation, not worker malingering.

The £200 million sickness figure is not a cost workers have imposed on management; rather, it's a cost management has imposed on workers due to health issues, chronic stress, and physical exhaustion. The document clearly states: “The £200 million figure is not a bill that workers have handed to management—it is a bill that management has handed to workers, in the form of The cost of Křetínský’s efforts to reduce expenses by £425 million includes destroyed health, chronic stress, and physical breakdown. This approach involves weakening the Universal Service Obligation and establishing a two-tier workforce in which new employees earn just above the minimum wage. The media remains eerily silent when workers die; for example, four deaths over two years at a USPS facility in Palmetto, Georgia, went unreported. However, when workers suffer from severe illnesses caused by unmanageable workloads, the media quickly responds—yet often places blame on the victims.

The CWU bureaucracy: indispensable partners in the restructuring

The leadership of the Communication Workers Union (CWU), led by Dave Ward and Martin Walsh, isn't opposing this restructuring; instead, they are facilitating it. The document clearly states that the CWU signed the December 2024 Framework Agreement, which launched the restructuring process. They also approved the ODM pilots and enforced a pay deal that is below inflation. Furthermore, they have targeted workers who organise independently through the PWRFC. The CWU’s “Heavy and Light” model is revealed to be deceptive: it is not an alternative to ODM but a rebranding that entails a further 15 per cent increase in workloads. The union leadership serves as a labour-management partner whose primary function is to suppress opposition and align the workforce with corporate interests.

The political context: Starmer’s Labour government and the corporate oligarchy

The reorganisation of Royal Mail cannot be separated from the wider political context. The Starmer government, backed by the financial oligarchy, approved Křetínský’s takeover and has indicated support for additional “modernisation” measures, which mainly mean job cuts, increased speeds, and the elimination of remaining protections.

The media’s portrayal that illness is caused by workers supports this agenda. It sets the stage for increased demands for "flexibility," heavier workloads, stricter attendance policies, reduced sick pay, and the spread of Amazon-like conditions throughout the postal industry. This isn't an impartial discussion about efficiency; it's an attack on working-class interests.

The way forward: independent rank‑and‑file committees

The solution is not to accept this framing but to establish independent rank-and-file committees that assume control of working conditions away from both management and the CWU bureaucracy.”

This is the only feasible way forward. Rank-and-file committees must assert democratic control over workloads, staffing, and safety. They should expose the collaboration of CWU leadership, unify postal workers across delivery offices and regions, and connect their struggle with workers internationally facing similar restructuring efforts. Additionally, they need to oppose the Labour government’s pro-corporate policies. The confrontation at Royal Mail is not just a local industrial dispute but part of a global fight between the working class and a capitalist system that values human health as expendable.

 

 

Conclusion

The media’s depiction of Royal Mail’s sickness absence bill as a worker-created crisis is false. The actual crisis stems from the health decline caused by a restructuring regime pushed by billionaire investors, supported by the CWU bureaucracy, and approved by the Labour government. Postal workers need to reject the narrative that blames them for their own exploitation to protect their lives and livelihoods. The way forward is to establish independent rank-and-file committees and to organise a united political fight against the corporate oligarchy and its political allies.



[1] Royal Mail hit by £200m Staff Sickness-1st Class Chat

The Auctioning of Wuthering Heights: Capitalism’s Desecration of Culture

The Associated Press recently featured a charming story of cultural interest: a first edition of Wuthering Heights expected to sell for between £400,000 and £600,000. But this is more than just a collectable; it offers a keen insight into a declining social structure. The novel, which vividly illustrates the destructive impacts of property, class oppression, and social exclusion, is now being auctioned as a speculative asset to the highest bidder. “What we have is a society in which if you want to enjoy art, you must be a billionaire.” The irony is not incidental. It is structural. It expresses the logic of capitalism applied to culture in its most naked form.

The Brontës and the Market: A Historical Crime Scene

Emily Brontë passed away in 1848 at age 30, having endured material struggles and strict social limits in a Yorkshire parsonage. She and her sisters used male pseudonyms because the literary world—similar to other bourgeois institutions—excluded women from serious involvement. Their writing was driven not by profit, which was minimal, but by an inner desire to explore fundamental human questions.

The initial critics of Wuthering Heights reacted with shock. One condemned it for its “vulgar depravity and unnatural horrors.” The novel’s brutal depiction of how property disputes corrupt love, family bonds, and the human spirit was too intense for Victorian sensibilities. It emerged from suffering, brilliance, and a strong artistic integrity that challenged the shallow values of its time.

Nearly 180 years later, that same novel has become a symbol of wealth for the ultra-rich. The Brontës’ creative work—created under conditions of oppression and hardship—is now just another luxury item. This shift is not accidental but the unavoidable result of a system that places private wealth above all human values.

Art as Loot: The Oligarchic Appropriation of Culture

Marx explained long ago that under capitalism, money acts as “the visible divinity”—transforming all human and natural properties into their opposites. Today, this idea is verified daily in the art market. Auction houses that once sold a banana duct-taped to a wall for $6.24 million now also list Wuthering Heights, not because the market can tell the difference, but because it cannot. The sole indicator remains price.

The estimated cost of £400,000–£600,000 for this project must be viewed in the global context, where billions face poverty, homelessness, failing public services, and declining support for cultural institutions. Public museums and libraries are being closed or dismantled. For example, the British Library has destroyed tens of thousands of books and historic newspapers. At the same time, wealthy oligarchs are creating private museums—such as Alice Walton’s Crystal Bridges, Roman Abramovich’s New Holland Island complex, and Eli Broad’s Los Angeles gallery—to enclose their collections. This trend does not represent the preservation of culture but rather its privatisation and sequestration.

 What Wuthering Heights Actually Says

Auctioneers may praise the novel’s “cultural significance” and “emotional power," but they often overlook that Wuthering Heights also critically examines property-based society. Heathcliff’s transformation from an orphan to a vengeful figure is driven entirely by the class humiliations he suffers. The novel vividly illustrates—shockingly to early readers and still disturbingly relevant today—that a social system rooted in property ownership and inheritance can devastate human lives. Now, if the same work is marketed as a speculative investment for the very class Brontë depicted with brutal honesty, it is not only ironic but also deeply obscene.

Capitalism’s War on Culture

The commercialisation of Wuthering Heights exemplifies a broader pattern: the decline of public culture and the privatisation of artistic heritage. The wealthy elite, possessing vast resources, tend to view art primarily as a means to increase their capital. Meanwhile, the working class—who generate all wealth and cultural output—are continually denied access to these cultural treasures that they helped create. It’s the working class that produces all wealth and culture, but is systematically excluded from the cultural heritage that rightly belongs to them.

The Socialist Answer: Expropriate the Expropriators

Marx envisioned a society where enjoying art required being an artistically cultivated individual. Today, this is reversed: to enjoy art, one must be a billionaire. The answer isn't to criticise the rich’s philistinism or rely on their non-existent sense of responsibility.

Instead, we must abolish social structures that privatise culture for a parasitic elite. Artistic and literary treasures should be democratically controlled by those who created them. Achieving this demands expropriating the expropriators and transforming society along socialist lines. Only then can classics like Wuthering Heights—and all of humanity’s cultural heritage—be restored to their true owners: the international working class.

 

Katja Hoyer’s Liberal Mythology of Weimar: A Marxist Refutation

Katja Hoyer’s essay on the Weimar Republic exemplifies contemporary liberal ideology: it is humane in tone, superficially balanced, yet fundamentally inaccurate. It echoes the bourgeois historiographical claim that Weimar was a fragile but genuine democracy that tragically failed to rally its citizens. However, this narrative is not only incomplete but also a political distortion that conceals the key lessons of the German Revolution, the counterrevolutionary nature of the Weimar state, and the significant influence of Social Democracy and Stalinism in paving the way for fascism.[1]

A Marxist perspective suggests a different explanation. Weimar's fall wasn't due to a lack of “optimism,” “credible leadership,” or “real change on the ballot paper.” Instead, it failed because it was founded on oppressing the working class and upheld by parties that repeatedly betrayed it. Hoyer’s liberal moralism—her claim that democracies must “offer hope”—acts today as a political sedative, dulling the working class's awareness amid capitalism's renewed crisis and the far right's resurgence.

This article clarifies the historical facts that Hoyer’s account conceals. It argues that Weimar was not a failed democratic experiment but a short-lived counterrevolutionary regime that temporarily maintained bourgeois dominance. Its collapse was driven not by voter disillusionment but by political betrayals from the SPD, the Stalinist-led KPD, and the trade union bureaucracy. The key lesson for today is not about the importance of charismatic centrists, but about the urgent need to develop an independent revolutionary leadership within the working class.

I. Weimar Was Born as a Counterrevolution

Liberal interpretations of Weimar typically start with the November Revolution as a sign of democratic awakening. Hoyer also describes the 1919 elections as a moment of civic renewal. However, this story falls apart under even basic historical examination.

1. The November Revolution and the SPD’s Counterrevolutionary Role

The German Revolution of 1918–19 was not an unplanned democratic reform effort. Instead, it was a proletarian uprising that toppled the Kaiser, created workers’ and soldiers’ councils nationwide, and raised issues of state power. The SPD leaders—Ebert, Scheidemann, Noske—quickly moved to suppress this revolution. Their goal was not to expand the revolution but to control, steer, and eventually suppress it.

Ebert’s covert agreement with General Groener on 10 November 1918 marked the birth of the Weimar Republic. In return for military backing, Ebert committed to protecting the existing officer class and capitalist system from revolutionary workers. This was not a democratic compromise but a counterrevolutionary alliance.

 2. The January 1919 Elections: Democracy at Gunpoint

Hoyer’s sentimental reference to Kate Lehmann’s diary—her “celebratory mood” on election day—ignores a crucial reality. The elections occurred right after the SPD-ordered crackdown on the Berlin uprising, during which the Freikorps, authorised by Noske, brutally suppressed the revolution. On 15 January 1919, Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht were murdered by officers with the silent approval of the SPD government. Therefore, the Weimar Republic was not founded on democratic victory but on political murders. The electorate’s "joy” was ultimately based on the deaths of revolutionary leaders.

3. Continuity of the Old State Apparatus

The new republic maintained much of the Kaiserreich's structure: the judiciary was still staffed by monarchist judges who gave lenient sentences to right-wing killers while harshly persecuting leftists. The Reichswehr stayed unreformed, operating as a “state within a state” with leadership that despised democracy and plotted against it openly. The civil service remained a stronghold of reaction, loyal to the old order. Although it appeared democratic, the regime's rule was actually sustained by the old elites. Weimar was not a true break from the past; rather, it was the political framework that allowed the bourgeoisie to survive the revolutionary upheaval.

II. The Collapse of Weimar: Betrayal, Not Disillusionment

Hoyer’s main argument—that Weimar fell because voters grew “disenchanted” with democracy—oversimplifies a significant class struggle into a psychological issue. It presents a liberal morality story suggesting democracy collapses when citizens lose faith, rather than due to actions by the ruling class. A Marxist perspective shows a different picture: the working class was not defeated by fascism; instead, it was betrayed by its own leaders.

1. The Balance of Forces in 1932

In the November 1932 free elections, the SPD secured 121 seats, the KPD 100, and the Nazis 196. Together, the workers’ parties still held a majority in Parliament. The proletariat remained Germany’s most influential social force, yet it was politically immobilised.

2. The SPD: From Counterrevolution to Capitulation

The SPD’s actions in the early 1930s can be seen as a continuation of its betrayal in 1918–19. It supported Brüning’s presidential dictatorship by voting for emergency decrees that undermined parliamentary democracy. The party also endorsed Hindenburg’s re-election, endorsing the man who would later appoint Hitler. Additionally, it failed to mobilise its millions of members when von Papen staged the coup against the Prussian SPD government in July 1932. Trotsky’s assessment remains clear: the SPD leadership acted as if Germany’s fate depended not on the strength of the working class, but on “the pure spirit of the Weimar Constitution,”

3. The KPD: Stalinism’s Catastrophic “Social Fascism” Line

Under Stalin’s guidance, the KPD labelled the SPD and fascism as "twins.” This extreme-left stance rejected forming a united front against the Nazis, focused its criticism mainly on the SPD, and even caused the KPD to collaborate with the Nazis during the 1931 Prussian referendum. Consequently, this approach led to political confusion among the working class and undermined its unity when it was most needed.

4. The Trade Unions: Total Capitulation

Before Hitler’s ascent to power, the ADGB leadership handed over control. On 1 May 1933, unions marched under the swastika. The next day, Nazi forces raided their offices. Due to the union bureaucracy's failure to rally the working class, it disbanded itself and integrated into the new regime.

5. The Myth of “Democratic Failure”

Weimar's fall was not due to democracy's failure but because the parties professing to represent the working class subordinated it to the bourgeois order. Reformism and Stalinism—both forms of opportunism—eliminated the chance for a revolutionary alternative.

III. Liberal Optimism as Political Anaesthetic

Hoyer’s core lesson—that democracies need to present “optimism,” “hope,” and tangible change—encapsulates liberal ideology. It presumes that the crisis in bourgeois democracy can be addressed internally, simply by improving messaging and personalities. This, however, is a form of political mystification.

1. The Crisis of Bourgeois Democracy Is Structural, Not Psychological

Hoyer points out that 83 per cent support parliament “in principle,” yet only 31 per cent approve of its actual functioning. This isn’t a communication failure but an acknowledgement that parliament primarily serves the capitalist class. The core contradiction isn’t between voters and politicians but between the state's democratic appearance and its capitalist substance.

2. The Working Class Does Not Need Optimism

The liberal use of “hope" serves as a replacement for actual political analysis. It encourages passivity and trust in institutions that have consistently let down the working class.

3. The Real Lesson of Weimar

When the ruling class is unable to maintain democratic rule, it will readily forsake democracy. The sole force capable of safeguarding democratic rights is the working class, which must be independently organized outside all bourgeois parties and equipped with a socialist agenda.

IV. The Present Crisis: Why Hoyer’s Liberalism Is Dangerous

Hoyer’s argument is not merely historically wrong. It is politically disorienting in a moment of acute crisis.

1. Germany Today: The Return of Militarism and the Far Right

The German ruling class is rebuilding its military on a scale not seen since the Nazi era. Democratic rights are under ongoing attack. The far-right AfD is becoming normalized and cultivated by parts of the establishment. Across Europe, the political centre is disintegrating.

In this environment, calls for “credible leadership” and "genuine change on the ballot" essentially urge the working class to entrust its future once more to the bourgeoisie.

2. The SPD and Greens: Continuity, Not Renewal

The modern SPD and Greens, similar to their Weimar counterparts, act as tools for stabilizing capitalism. Their backing of militarism, austerity measures, and the suppression of dissent shows they are not capable of driving democratic renewal.

3. The Only Hopeful Lesson

The lesson from Weimar is not about improving how democracy is promoted. Instead, it emphasizes that the working class must decisively separate itself from all bourgeois parties and form an international revolutionary movement against capitalism. Such a movement is essential for defending and expanding democratic rights.

Conclusion

Katja Hoyer’s liberal interpretation of Weimar offers a reassuring myth for today’s ruling elites. It reimagines a counterrevolutionary regime as a democratic experiment, attributes the failure of bourgeois democracy to issues of optimism, and obscures the crucial roles played by Social Democracy and Stalinism in enabling fascism.

A Marxist perspective uncovers the reality: Weimar was inherently counterrevolutionary from the start, sustained through betrayal, and ultimately brought down by the working class’s political indecision. Its true lesson isn’t about needing better leaders or more inspiring speeches, but about forming a revolutionary leadership that can unite workers against both fascism and the bourgeois “democrats” who facilitate its rise. This lesson remains vital today, as capitalism’s crisis worsens and the far right gains ground across Europe. The working class must resist liberal illusions and prepare for struggle.

 



[1] Was Weimar an Unloved Democracy? www.katjahoyer.uk/p/was-weimar-an-unloved-democracy?hide_intro_popup=true