Monday, 29 June 2026

The Political Bankruptcy of Psychopathy Theory and the Reactionary Dead End of Anti Vaccine Conspiracism

Dear Chris,

In addressing your analysis, it is crucial to treat these issues with the highest political seriousness. The concerns you mention—such as state criminality, the character of the ruling class, and the decline of American democracy—are not about personal psychology or spiritual growth. Instead, they reflect the objective crisis of global capitalism and the challenges faced by the international working class. This is where your framework fails.

The Correct Premise: The Crisis Is Systemic, Not Personal

You are right to emphasise that the criminality of the American state extends beyond Donald Trump. As has often been stated, Trump is not an anomaly but a reflection of a corrupt social system. Trump’s administration is “a government of, by, and for the oligarchy.” This is not about individual personality; it’s about the class structure and rules.

Similarly, your suspicion that the Democratic Party intervened in the protests is justified. The Democrats often act as the graveyard for social movements, with their role—illustrated by Bernie Sanders’ opportunistic appearance at the demonstrations—being to suppress the emerging radicalism and steer it back into conventional bourgeois politics. These observations are accurate. However, the framework you build around them is flawed.

Where Your Analysis Breaks Down: Psychopathy Is Not a Category of Scientific Socialism

The main mistake is replacing the concept of class with psychopathy. This isn't a minor error; it's a shift away from scientific socialism toward a moralistic and pseudo-explanatory approach. The capitalist class's dominance isn't due to psychological flaws among its members but because they control the means of production. Their power is based on property ties, not on personality issues. As your own document notes, “A ‘moral’ capitalist is still a capitalist. A ‘sane’ ruling class would still exploit workers.”

Psychopathy theory actually exemplifies the individualism you oppose. It simplifies the complex, historically developed system of capitalist domination to supposed mental flaws in a few individuals. This approach isn’t Marxist; instead, it reverts to pre-scientific moral categories that hide the true dynamics of class.

Marx and Engels debunked these ideas over 175 years ago. The capitalist state is not merely "a conspiracy of psychopaths"; as the Communist Manifesto states, it is "a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.” Swapping class analysis for psychological speculation abandons the revolutionary perspective of the working class.

The COVID Question: A Necessary Political Clarification

You must directly address your invocation of anti-vaccine conspiracy theories—such as "mass poisoning" and "genocide." These assertions are not just false; they are also politically reactionary.

Research has shown that far-right groups, including fascist militias and anti-Semitic conspiracy promoters, largely influenced anti-vaccine and anti-lockdown movements. Embracing their narratives can mislead workers and pave the way for dangerous political shifts. The COVID pandemic was a social crime—not because vaccines were harmful, but because capitalist governments prioritized corporate profits over public health. The response should not be based on conspiracy theories, but on advocating for a rational, science-based public health system managed democratically by workers.

The Actual Path Forward: The Independent Mobilisation of the Working Class

Your suggested approach—personal moral awakening, spiritual guides, individual enlightenment—is ineffective politically. It resembles self-help seminar politics rather than class struggle. The only force that can resolve capitalism's crisis is the international working class. It creates all social wealth but owns nothing. It is the only class with a vested interest in ending the profit system. Additionally, it has the power to halt production, overthrow the capitalist state, and rebuild society democratically, equally, and rationally.

This involves establishing rank-and-file committees at every workplace, school, and neighbourhood. These committees should be coordinated globally via the International Workers Alliance of Rank-and-File Committees. They should openly embrace a socialist program that recognises capitalism as the root cause of war, dictatorship, and inequality. This is not “hope porn" but the scientific conclusion derived from Marxist analysis and the historical experience of the class struggle.

Conclusion

You start with a valid premise: the crisis is systemic, not individual. However, your approach leads to a political dead end, relying on psychopathy theory, conspiracism, and spiritual individualism. These frameworks conceal the true mechanisms of capitalist control and weaken the political power of the working class. The goal is not to diagnose the ruling class but to overthrow it.

 

Sunday, 28 June 2026

News From Nowhere Diary

The past month has marked a decisive turning point in the website's development. What began as a modest personal archive of historical writing and political commentary has now reached a scale that demands reflection. The website has crossed a symbolic threshold: “over one million hits” since its inception. More striking still, last month alone it received “70,000 hits”, a figure that would have been unimaginable in its early years. These numbers are not simply metrics; they testify to a growing audience seeking rigorous historical analysis and socialist commentary at a moment of deepening political crisis.

This surge in readership coincides with a period of intense intellectual activity. The long‑standing 2003 BA dissertation on Cromwell and the Putney Debates—once a youthful academic exercise—has been “completely rewritten”. The revision is not cosmetic. It represents a fundamental re-engagement with the revolutionary ferment of the 1640s, informed by two decades of subsequent study, political experience, and historiographical development. Alongside this, further work has been undertaken on the Raphael Samuel book, extending the exploration of memory, class, and radical historiography that Samuel himself championed. These projects, dormant at times, have now re-emerged with renewed urgency.

The website’s content growth mirrors this intellectual momentum, marked by a “significant increase in articles,” partly due to the emergence of the World Socialist Website’s Socialism AI. This tool has sped up research, improved cross-referencing, and created new opportunities for combining historical sources with current political analysis. The diary reflects this period of rapid development: it feels like the archive is not just expanding but transforming.

This intellectual renewal is closely linked to the current political climate. The diary notes an upcoming meeting entitled “Your Party’s Collapse – Time to Build the Socialist Equality Party," set for Sunday, July 12, at Hargrave Hall Community Centre in Archway. The clear directions—“3-minute walk from Archway tube station on the Northern Line”—add a sense of practicality. The meeting’s title highlights the ongoing crisis in political representation and emphasises the need to develop a principled socialist alternative. This event is not an isolated gathering but is part of a larger political shift.

Yet the narrative is not confined to politics alone. It also gestures toward cultural engagement, noting the Japan Society Book Club’s July 13 discussion of Izumi Suzuki’s Set My Heart on Fire. The book’s “stark, fragmented narratives” and its portrayal of women navigating emotional isolation in postwar Japan introduce a different register—one of literary introspection and social alienation. The juxtaposition of this event with the Archway meeting underscores the diary’s breadth: political mobilisation on one day, avant‑garde Japanese literature the next.

This entry concludes with a brief catalogue of recent book purchases—The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, Red Card by Jules Boykoff, and Stealing Horses to Great Applause by Paul W. Schroder. These acquisitions are part of the ongoing expansion of the intellectual resources that underpin the website. They hint at future reading, future writing, and future analysis.

Taken together, the diary documents a moment of convergence: rising readership, renewed scholarly work, intensified political engagement, and continued literary exploration. It marks a phase in which the website is not only growing but clarifying its purpose—serving as a space where history, politics, and culture intersect in the pursuit of understanding and transformation.

 

Nothing to Hide: Katie Price and the Celebrity Industrial Complex under Late Capitalism

Introduction: The Spectacle of Transparency

Sky’s recent documentary, Nothing to Hide, which focuses on Katie Price's long-standing celebrity persona, aims to offer an intimate and revelatory look at a woman described as having “lived her life in public.” However, it functions more as a commodity spectacle produced by one of the world's largest media conglomerates. Its goal isn't to reveal social truths but to reinforce the voyeuristic culture and personal exposure prevalent in modern capitalist entertainment. “The very title is ideologically revealing. It suggests that total exposure of one's private life is a form of authenticity or empowerment.

This ideological framing is intentional. It reflects a societal structure in which privacy has been diminished, commercialised, and weaponised. The documentary does not oppose the system that produced Katie Price; instead, it persists within it.

The Ideology of “Nothing to Hide”

The title 'Nothing to Hide' captures the core deception of the celebrity-industrial complex: the idea that transparency equals freedom. The bourgeois media fosters the illusion that being completely open is empowering—that someone who “hides nothing” is perceived as more genuine, brave, and authentic. In reality, this reflects the commodification of personal identity—the turning of private life into content for sale.

This signifies the complete merging of individual identity into a commercialised form. The confessional style of reality TV is not about revealing the truth but about performing transparency to hide its true economic interests. The “nothing to hide” ideology aligns with modern capitalism's surveillance practices, viewing privacy as suspicious and visibility as a virtue. This reversal—where revealing oneself is seen as empowering—helps normalise the invasion of private life and portrays the loss of personal boundaries as a choice rather than a necessity.

Katie Price as Prototype of the Professional Celebrity

Katie Price’s career illustrates how British media culture has evolved over the past 25 years. From her glamour modelling days as “Jordan” in the late 1990s to her many appearances on reality TV, tabloid scandals, and staged personal dramas, Price embodies the “bread and circuses” culture of modern capitalism that the WSWS has frequently examined.

It is notable that Price “is not a craftsperson but a celebrity: her fame is the main product, separate from any artistic or intellectual value.” This insight is significant. Price exemplifies a post-Fordist cultural worker, whose “work” is to remain constantly accessible for consumption. Her labour involves generating visibility, and her commodity is herself.

The rise of professional celebrities coincides with the decline of traditional artistic labour markets, deregulation in media industries, and the proliferation of affordable, union-free entertainment formats. Price emerges as a natural outcome of a media system that prioritises spectacle over substance, emotional displays over artistic craftsmanship, and personal crises over social critique.

The Corporate Machinery: Sky, Comcast, and the Reality TV Mode of Production

The documentary comes from Sky, now owned by Comcast, one of Europe's largest media companies. As your document notes, “these programmes are produced because they are cheap, they bypass unionised writers and actors, and they generate profit by feeding an audience a steady diet of manufactured personal drama.” This forms the economic foundation of the reality TV industry: low production costs, high emotional impact, minimal reliance on skilled workers, infinite scalability, and endless content creation centred on personal crises.

Reality television functions not just as a genre but as a production mode that capitalises on personal trauma, manipulates relationships, and turns private lives into commodities. Celebrities serve as both workers and products, caught in a destructive cycle of exposure that fuels profit. The WSWS’s analysis of Caroline Flack’s suicide highlights the deadly outcomes of this system. The same media that elevates celebrities also tears them down for profit. Price’s documentary is part of this cycle, providing a platform to “tell her side” only because her humiliation has already been monetised.

The Cycle of Humiliation and Redemption

The ongoing cycle of exposure, humiliation, redemption, and re-exposure isn't an error—it's the essence of the business model. This reflects the dialectic of celebrity culture under capitalism: First, construction—media creates a persona. Second, destruction—the persona is torn down for profit. Third, rehabilitation—a “tell-all” documentary offers redemption. Finally, re-commodification—The persona, having been reclaimed, re-enters the entertainment industry. Katie Price’s "Nothing to Hide" exemplifies stage three of this cycle. It’s not a system challenge, but its continuation. The document, which claims to be authentic, becomes a spectacle; it promises insight but ultimately sustains mystification.

What a Serious Documentary Would Examine

A truly critical documentary would analyse the social and economic forces behind the Katie Price phenomenon. To develop this idea, a serious film should: examine how public and private boundaries have blurred under neoliberalism; investigate the decline of traditional artistic labor markets and the rise of “celebrity labor'; explore how media conglomerates distract the public with celebrity gossip while social inequality grows and wars continue; place Price within the larger context of femininity commodification, where women’s bodies and personal lives are turned into industrialized commodities; and reveal the psychological and social harm caused by constant exposure. However, "Nothing to Hide" cannot fulfil this role, as it is a product of the very industry it claims to critique, making it just another form of the same commodity.

The Working Class and the Need for Genuine Culture

In conclusion, the working class needs art and culture that sheds light on social realities, rather than celebrity confessions that conceal them. Celebrity culture isn't just trivial; it serves a political purpose by diverting attention from issues like wage stagnation, collapsing public services, militarism, social atomization, and the erosion of democratic rights. Instead of meaningful content, the working class gets Katie Price over Ken Loach, Love Island over Brecht, and Nothing to Hide instead of documentaries on NHS privatisation. This isn't accidental but part of a cultural strategy by a ruling class that fears an informed and politically aware population.

Katie Price’s "Nothing to Hide" is a personal narrative that also functions as a product shaped by late capitalism. It illustrates the commodification of private life, the erosion of artistic culture, the exploitation of personal crises, the ideological praise of surveillance, and the corporate emphasis on cheap, high-yield entertainment. Rather than a documentary, it is a commercial spectacle designed to hide, rather than reveal, social realities. The working class needs cultural content that exposes its true conditions, not confessional entertainment that masks them.

 

  

Katja Hoyer’s Narrative: Nazi Files, Family Secrets, and the Liberal Falsification of History

The displacement of history by family mythology

Hoyer’s approach relies on a straightforward but powerful shift: instead of asking, “What class forces enabled fascism?” the subject is prompted to ask, “Was my grandfather a Nazi?” This transforms the historical disaster into a personal story. Political issues become psychological concerns, and social problems are viewed through a personal lens.

This example illustrates modern attitudes toward remembering German history. As the WSWS highlighted during the controversy over the Wehrmacht exhibition, even important documentation of Nazi atrocities tends to be presented without linking it to the broader class struggles in Germany and Europe, as if there was no opposition to the Nazis’ rise and their military ambitions. Hoyer’s article exemplifies this issue on a smaller scale, creating a story in which the grandfather becomes the central figure of history, the family serves as a space for reflection, and the working class is entirely overlooked. This approach does not depict true history but promotes a liberal myth.

The erasure of the working class and its betrayal

Any thorough analysis of fascism must start with the betrayal of the German working class by the SPD, KPD, and trade unions in 1933. These groups represented millions of workers. Their surrender enabled Hitler’s rise to power. The SPD clung to bourgeois legality as the state fell apart. The KPD, following Stalin, called the SPD "social fascists,” undermining a united front. The trade unions encouraged workers to take part in Nazi May Day celebrations.

Hoyer’s narrative cannot admit this, as it would mean confronting the ongoing class interests that connect the capitalist systems of 1933, 1945, and today. Instead, she shifts focus to family history, asking whether ‘my grandfather was good or bad,’ rather than examining what political forces weakened the working class and facilitated fascism. This amounts to a form of historical falsification.

 Goldhagen in miniature: national character disguised as family psychology

At first glance, Katja Hoyer and Daniel Goldhagen seem to embody different facets of modern German memory culture. However, they may actually reflect two sides of the same ideological spectrum. Goldhagen's tone is polemical, broad, and accusatory, while Hoyer adopts a therapeutic, intimate, and psychologically nuanced approach. Goldhagen criticises the German nation as a whole, whereas Hoyer focuses on examining the German family. Goldhagen discusses "eliminationist anti-Semitism," whereas Hoyer explores “family myths” and the process of "reckoning.”

However, despite these stylistic variations, they serve a common ideological purpose: to depoliticise fascism, eliminate class conflict, and reframe the atrocities of the Third Reich as issues of psychology, culture, and personal identity. Both authors function within the same liberal perspective that downplays  “the greatest crimes in human history to a matter of individual family shame and personal conscience. Goldhagen nationalises guilt. Hoyer privatises guilt. Both protect capitalism.

Goldhagen: National character as historical explanation

Daniel Goldhagen’s Hitler’s Willing Executioners (1996) argued that the Holocaust was the product of a uniquely German, centuries-old “eliminationist anti-Semitism.” The book was a publishing sensation precisely because it offered a morally satisfying yet historically bankrupt explanation: Germans killed Jews because they wanted to.

Goldhagen’s thesis has three key flaws: it deletes class relations by ignoring the bourgeoisie, the working class, and capitalism; it reduces the Holocaust to a cultural issue; and it dismisses political struggle, especially neglecting figures like Marx, Engels, Bebel, and Liebknecht, thus turning history into nationalist rhetoric. Moreover, it overlooks the betrayal of the working class, as Goldhagen cannot explain the surrender of the SPD, KPD, and trade unions in 1933, or why the working class— the only group capable of resisting fascism—was politically disarmed. His thesis is a dead end because it views fascism as a moral failing rather than a class-based phenomenon.

Hoyer: The privatisation of guilt

Katja Hoyer’s “family secrets” narrative mirrors Goldhagen’s approach on a smaller scale. While Goldhagen criticises the entire nation, Hoyer focuses on the household. Goldhagen discusses “German culture,” whereas Hoyer examines “family mythology.” Goldhagen universalises guilt, but Hoyer personalises it. The core argument is similar: fascism is explained through psychology rather than politics, history is viewed through identity instead of class, and the working class is completely omitted. The question becomes ‘was my grandfather a good or bad person?’ rather than ‘what class forces and political betrayals made fascism possible?

Hoyer’s narrative is more than just incomplete; it is essential on ideological grounds. It guarantees that the digitised Nazi Party files serve for therapeutic self-reflection rather than for historical study.  

The shared erasure of the working class

Both Hoyer and Goldhagen consistently overlook a critical historical fact: fascism's rise was facilitated by the betrayal of their own base by German working-class organisations. As the state disintegrated, the SPD maintained bourgeois legality, while the KPD, following Stalin's directives, sabotaged the unity front. The Trade union leaders collaborated with the Nazi propaganda event on May 1, 1933. This orchestrated spectacle was intended to lull German trade unions into complacency just a day before their complete suppression on May 2, 1933, when SA, SS, and NSBO units raided union offices, detained leaders, and seized assets. All these organisations... passively capitulated to Hitler.”

Goldhagen cannot acknowledge this because it would weaken his claim about national pathology. Likewise, Hoyer cannot accept it as it would contradict her narrative of personal self-reflection. Consequently, both authors depict a version of history that omits class struggle, suggesting fascism emerges from cultural, identity, or family factors rather than from the crisis of capitalism.

Trotsky’s method: The Marxist demolition of both narratives

Leon Trotsky’s critique of fascism reveals flaws in Hoyer's and Goldhagen's perspectives. Trotsky argued that fascism is not merely a cultural issue but a tool used by a class: "Fascism is a particular method of rallying and organising the petty bourgeoisie to serve finance capital.”

This single sentence challenges the entire ideological foundation of Hoyer and Goldhagen. Trotsky’s perspective shows that Fascism stems from the capitalist crisis, not from national character. It is propelled by the political betrayal of workers rather than family myths. Additionally, Fascism is fundamentally a class issue, not a psychological one. Goldhagen’s argument falters because it ignores why the bourgeoisie supported Hitler. Similarly, Hoyer’s argument is incomplete because it overlooks why the working class was disarmed. Trotsky reestablishes the comprehensive social relations that both authors overlook.

The political function of Hoyer and Goldhagen

The ideological significance of both writers becomes evident when viewed in the context of modern German politics. Germany is rearming, the Bundeswehr is active internationally, and historical revisionism is on the rise. The political leaders openly discuss “normalising” Germany's military strength. In this environment, Hoyer and Goldhagen serve crucial ideological functions: They shift fascism from a class-based issue to a psychological one, promote guilt without fostering political awareness, hide the role of German capitalism in funding Hitler, and prevent the working class from developing revolutionary insights. “One can feel personal shame about one’s grandfather while supporting the deployment of German troops. The class question is never posed.”⁷ Both writers use their political role to prevent past crimes from endangering current interests.

The political utility of individualised guilt

The German elite prefers to shift historical accountability onto individual and psychological levels. As the WSWS observed in their review of the 2011 “Hitler and the Germans” exhibition, the official narrative usually attributes blame to the German populace while hiding the role of German capitalism in the rise of Hitler.”

Hoyer’s article aligns well with this pattern. It prompts Germans to feel shame about their grandparents while ignoring the banks that funded Hitler, the companies that benefited from slave labour, and the state institutions that remained unchanged after 1945. This is why the “family secrets” genre is so politically effective: it fosters guilt without involving politics, memory without addressing class, and reckoning without calling for revolution.

The Marxist view contrasts with Hoyer’s liberal-psychological explanation, which holds that fascism emerges from capitalism in crisis. Its rise is due to the working class's betrayal. Fascism’s crimes are best understood by examining its class roots, not genealogy or psychology. The digitised Nazi files are useful primarily for revealing fascism’s class nature.

The working class needs to reject the entire ideology of individual guilt. Fascism's crimes were not caused by flawed personalities or national traits but stemmed from a social system—capitalism—driven into barbarism by crises and betrayal. The only force that can stop another descent into disaster is an organised, conscious working class, equipped with a revolutionary socialist agenda.

Notes 

 WSWS, “The Goldhagen Debate,” 1996.  

 Leon Trotsky, The Struggle Against Fascism in Germany (New York: Pathfinder, 1971), 7.

WSWS, “Hitler and the Germans Exhibition,” 2011. 

 

 

The Social History of Eviction and the Political Bankruptcy of Reformism

Eviction as a Window into the Class Nature of Society

The eviction of seventy households—including pensioners, disabled residents, and low-income families—from a working-class estate, as detailed in Jessica Fields' book Eviction: A Social History of Rent, exemplifies a broader pattern in British capitalism. It highlights that heritage rights do not take precedence over property rights, and community bonds do not outweigh financial interests. These two statements clearly summarise the core rationale behind eviction policies and their role in the political economy.

This article doesn't merely recount families' suffering. Instead, it places that suffering within the broader context of capitalist urban growth, the decline of Labourism, and Engels' ideas in The Housing Question. Evictions serve as a lens through which the working class can examine the system they oppose and identify the political steps necessary to dismantle it.

The Social History of Rent: From Industrial Slums to Financialised Landlordism

In 1872, Engels challenged the Proudhonists, who believed that rent-to-buy schemes could resolve the housing crisis. He emphasised that the housing shortage is not merely due to poor policies but is an inherent aspect of capitalism. Capitalism requires concentrating labour in cities, which inflates land prices, results in overcrowding, and causes periodic population displacement. The bourgeoisie "resolves" these issues by demolishing working-class housing and relocating workers outward. The destruction of council estates exemplifies this ongoing process.

Following the Second World War, municipal housing initiatives somewhat diluted Engels’ idea. However, these were not socialist endeavours; rather, they were concessions obtained by a militant working class during the expansion of capitalism. Housing remained a commodity, as councils built homes without challenging private land ownership. The core contradiction remained, only shifting to different aspects.

After 2008, the conflict intensified dramatically. Housing became a global financial asset, attracting heavy investments from private equity firms, REITs, offshore entities, and pension funds. Landlords shifted from individual owners to financial institutions, turning rent into a securitised income. Evictions began to serve as a means of capital growth.

Councils like the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea (RBKC) are subject to this trend. While the extent of malice within councils like RBKC is uncertain, they are now integrated into a global system of financialised landlordism. The council's plans to demolish estates and replace them with developments for the private rental market are not merely local issues but reflect a broader, historic global pattern.

Financialised Landlordism: The Globalisation of Rent and the New Mechanisms of Capital Accumulation

Evictions from council estates reflect more than just the actions of a social landlord. They signify a new phase in capitalism's evolution: financialised landlordism, where housing shifts from being mainly a home to serving as a financial asset, facilitating the flow and increase of capital.

Tracking the evolution of financialised landlordism from the 1970s crisis through the neoliberal counter-revolution, the decline of social democracy, and the post-2008 transformation of global capitalism reveals that eviction, demolition, and displacement are not anomalies but essential tools for capital accumulation in this era. The post-war economic boom depended on industrial production, rising wages, and regulated finance. However, by the late 1960s, this model faced a crisis: profit margins dropped, inflation surged, and labor unrest increased, prompting capital to seek new ways to accumulate wealth. The neoliberal shift dismantled the post-war regulatory system—liberalising finance, increasing capital mobility, weakening the welfare state, and opening housing, once protected by municipal regulation, to market forces.

The Thatcher government’s “Right to Buy” was more than just a policy; it represented a fundamental shift. It shifted millions of homes from public to private ownership, established a new petty-bourgeois class of homeowners, reduced municipal housing stock, and set the stage for land commodification. Labour governments continued this trend, with councils demolishing estates and transferring properties to housing associations increasingly connected to financial markets.

The collapse of Lehman Brothers sparked a worldwide crisis of excess capital. Trillions of dollars were sought for secure, profitable investments, with housing emerging as a preferred asset due to its stable returns, physical collateral, rising land values, and state-backed rent enforcement. Private equity firms, REITs, sovereign wealth funds, and pension funds all invested heavily in residential real estate. As a result, landlords shifted from individual property owners to financial institutions. Companies such as Pemberstone participated in this global trend.

Financialised landlordism goes beyond just “big landlords.” It involves specific accumulation mechanisms: rent is no longer just payment for land use but is securitised, bundled, sold to investors, and used as collateral, integrating housing into global financial markets. The tenant becomes a revenue source, and the home becomes a bond.

Eviction is not a flaw in the system; rather, it serves as a tool for capital accumulation. It enables landlords to clear "underperforming" tenants, redevelop land for greater profits, turn low-yield housing into high-yield assets, and discipline tenants through precarity. Evictions from social housing are part of this process and not exceptions; they reflect the system functioning as intended.

Demolition of estates is not about destruction; it's about creating value. It allows for densification, luxury redevelopment, conversion of social housing into private properties, extraction of planning gains, and increases in land values. However, this process often displaces the working class, allowing capital to intensify the exploitation of urban space.

Financialised landlordism relies heavily on debt, with tenants accumulating rent arrears, landlords handling leveraged buyouts, councils participating in PFI schemes, and housing associations issuing bonds. Debt interconnects all parties within the financial market system, which depends on state support such as enforcement of eviction laws, policing authority, planning policies, tax incentives, deregulation, and eviction powers related to immigration. Labour’s role includes expanding Section 8 eviction powers, implementing the digital possession process, and applying Ground 7B regulations.

This is not a deviation; it represents the state performing its typical function. The state is inherently not neutral but acts as the guarantor of rent extraction. Financialised landlordism is supported by an ideological framework that masks its class interests.

Regeneration frequently conceals demolition and displacement, portraying capital growth as progress, modernisation, and renewal. The term 'affordable housing' is misleading, as it refers to market-rate rents rather than a social right, thereby embedding working-class housing in financial markets. Consultation often seems superficial, merely legitimising predetermined decisions and turning democratic language into bureaucratic procedures. The idea of mixed communities is a euphemism for social cleansing, replacing working-class residents with wealthier populations to boost land values.

The Emotional Power and Political Weakness of Local Campaigns

The main contradiction in localist housing campaigns is that, despite stirring strong emotions, they lack a clear strategy. While community, heritage, and shared suffering foster solidarity, these feelings do not translate into political power. They remain in the moral sphere, appealing to a system that lacks consciousness. Local campaigns are easily bypassed as councils “consult,” “engage,' and “listen,” only to proceed with demolition or evictions. The moral appeal becomes part of bureaucratic formalities, reducing the campaign to a mere mention in planning documents. This underscores the ideological link between localism and Labourism.

Localism is inherently ideological and not politically neutral. It aligns with Labourism, which claims to protect community and heritage but ultimately serves financial interests. As mentioned, Labour councillors “deploy police to bar residents from town hall meetings.” Local campaigns often appeal to the same institutions that are evicting residents—the Dialectical Critique: Localism as Economism. Localist housing initiatives resemble trade-union economism by tackling symptoms rather than addressing the root social relations. They stay at a pre-class-conscious stage of struggle and cannot move beyond reformism without breaking away from Labourism’s political framework.

Labour isn't genuinely a workers’ party but rather a bourgeois party supporting capitalism. Its aim is to manage capitalism's contradictions, not eliminate them. This isn't a flaw; it's central to who it is. Labour’s Post-2024 Housing Strategy reveals increased Section 8 eviction powers and easier digital procedures for possessions. Ground 7B evictions over immigration led Labour MPs to be booed at the 2026 housing rally. This isn't a failure to forget history but a reaffirmation of property rights.

The New Left Review, Verso Books, and the Ideology of Housing Reformism

The New Left Review (NLR) and Verso Books position themselves as prominent voices of radical thought in Britain. Over time, they have regularly published books, essays, and monographs on issues such as housing, urbanism, gentrification, and “neoliberalism.” Their contributors—such as Stuart Hodkinson, Anne Power, John Boughton, Loretta Lees, and Danny Dorling—are committed to portraying tenant struggles with sincerity and in detail.

However, documentation does not equate to politics. The stance of the NLR/Verso environment is more of a refined, scholarly Labourism than a genuinely radical position. It emphasises capitalism's violence but suggests solutions like “better policy,” “more democratic planning,” and “politicians listening to historical narratives." This part of the article contends that the NLR/Verso housing discourse is not only inadequate but also an ideological barrier hindering the development of revolutionary consciousness.  

Founded in 1960, the New Left Review emerged from the merger of The New Reasoner and Universities and Left Review. It faced a fundamental contradiction: while it opposed Stalinist bureaucratic authoritarianism and Labourism’s parliamentary gradualism, it did not endorse a Marxist revolutionary platform. Instead, it presented itself as a “radical” intellectual journal that critiques capitalism from within the bourgeois democratic framework.

This inherent contradiction has influenced its political perspective since then. Starting from the 1970s, scholars linked to NLR became key analysts of Britain’s housing issues, producing detailed ethnographies of council estates, examining “regeneration” projects, critiquing gentrification, documenting the history of social housing, and proposing policies for “democratic planning." Although these works are often rich in empirical detail, they generally remain politically passive, describing capitalism’s violence without explicitly pointing to its fundamental cause: private ownership of land and housing.

Verso Books: The Publishing House of Academic Reformism

Verso Books describes itself as a "radical publishing" house. Nonetheless, it operates more like the literary wing of the academic left, a community that has long documented social crises without directly challenging Labourism.

Their housing titles, such as Safe as Houses, Estate Regeneration and Its Discontents, Municipal Dreams, The New Urban Crisis, and Eviction: The Social History of Rent, exhibit three key ideological traits: 1. They view housing mainly as a policy issue rather than a class struggle, describing it as a “crisis,” "failure,” or "challenge," but not as an intrinsic aspect of capitalism. 2. They focus on politicians instead of the working class, assuming policymakers can be convinced to counter capitalist interests. 3. They minimise Labour's role, criticising Conservative governments while often depicting Labour as a potential reformer—even though Labour-led councils have historically been responsible for mass evictions, estate demolitions, and social cleansing.

The NLR/Verso milieu is not politically neutral; it is structurally linked to universities, research grants, policy institutes, Labour councils, think tanks, and NGOs. Its authors rely on these institutions, which also oversee eviction processes. Consequently, they cannot promote revolutionary politics without risking their careers. Their reformism is grounded in material realities, not just ideology.

Verso housing books frequently promote ideas like “stronger regulation,” “community involvement,” “democratic planning,” “ethical regeneration,” and “fairer development models.” These notions are illusions, presuming that the capitalist state can be reformed to oppose capitalism.

Verso authors romanticise community campaigns, highlighting successes such as Focus E15, Newham mothers, West Hendon, and local fights. However, they never address the political reality: these campaigns failed because they relied solely on moral appeals. “Community does not defeat the rate of return.” Regarding “Heritage,” Verso books often reference estate histories, community dignity, and working-class culture, but heritage lacks legal weight against property rights. It remains sentiment, not a strategic tool.

Engels dispelled reformist illusions in 1872, highlighting that housing shortages stem from systemic issues. He stated that eviction serves as a means of capital accumulation and emphasised that reform alone cannot eliminate the commodity nature of housing. The only solution, according to him, is the abolition of private land ownership to resolve the housing problem.

The NLR/Verso milieu has overlooked this analysis for fifty years. They reference Engels but ignore his insights, considering his revolutionary conclusions as mere historical curiosities rather than urgent political calls. The book’s call is for politicians to heed the stories of history… But which politicians?”

The NLR/Verso environment provides no route to victory as its political approach is a dead end. The working class cannot secure housing through heritage, community efforts, moral appeals, Labour councils, academic research, or policy changes. The fight for housing is a fight against the capitalist class... transforming housing from a commodity into a social right."

Saturday, 27 June 2026

On the 250th Anniversary of 1776: A Polemical Defence of the American Revolution Against Racialist Falsification








But where, say some, is the King of America? I’ll tell you, friend, he reigns above, and doth not make havoc of humanity like the Royal Brute of Great Britain. Yet that we may not appear to be defective even in earthly honours, let a day be solemnly set apart for proclaiming the Charter; let it be brought forth, placed on the Divine Law, the Word of God; let a crown be placed thereon, by which the world may know, that so far as we approve of monarchy, that in America the law is king. 

The Writings of Thomas Paine, Vol. I (1774-1779)

"Associate yourself with men of good quality, if you esteem your own reputation; for 'tis better to be alone than in bad company."

George Washington

"The workingmen of Europe feel sure that... it fell to the lot of Abraham Lincoln, the single-minded son of the working class, to lead his country through the matchless struggle for the rescue of an enchained race and the reconstruction of a social world."

Karl Marx

“We hold the power to start the world anew. No similar situation has occurred since Noah's days until now. A new world's birth is imminent, and a population, possibly as large as all of Europe, is about to gain their share of freedom”

Thomas Paine-

oll.libertyfund.org/titles/paine-the-writings-of-thomas-paine-vol-i-1774-1779#

History as a Battlefield

The upcoming 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence has starkly exposed a deep crisis in the United States' historical awareness. At a time when democratic rights face unprecedented threats, the political elite and its media outlets have shown what the World Socialist Web Site accurately describes as “disinterest and even hostility… toward the bourgeois democratic traditions of the United States.’¹ The ruling class, mired in oligarchic decay, recoils from the revolutionary origins of its own state because those origins expose the illegitimacy of its present‑day authoritarian turn.

In this context, the WSWS hosted a significant international webinar titled “The American Revolution and Its Place in History: From the War Against Monarchy to ‘No Kings.’” Featuring prominent historians such as James Oakes, Sean Wilentz, Richard Carwardine, Adam Hochschild, and Thomas Mackaman, it represented the most in-depth scholarly discussion of the Revolution during this anniversary year. Its importance extends beyond academic clarification, reflecting the ongoing political debate over the significance of 1776.

The core question is whether the American Revolution was a groundbreaking democratic shift in world history or, as the 1619 Project and its academic allies claim, a reactionary revolt aimed at preserving slavery. This answer shapes both our understanding of history and our approach to current fights against dictatorship.

The Revolutionary Character of 1776

The Declaration of Independence remains one of the most consequential documents in world history. As David North emphasised, it “indicted the existing social and political order and called for its overthrow in the most sweeping and universal terms.”² Its proclamation that “all men are created equal” established a new standard of political legitimacy, one that transcended the limitations of its time and pointed toward future struggles for emancipation.

James Oakes underscored this universalism, noting that the Declaration “establishes an entirely new revolutionary standard by which every social movement from that point on is evaluated.”³ The Revolution shattered the ancien rĂ©gime’s world of inherited rank and ascribed status. Richard Carwardine described 1776 as the formal end of a social order in which one’s place was fixed by birth.⁴

This was not a provincial tax revolt. It was the first great bourgeois‑democratic revolution of the modern era, whose reverberations were felt across the Atlantic world. As Sean Wilentz observed, “you can’t understand any of the other revolutions without understanding the American Revolution.”⁵ The upheaval in North America helped detonate the French Revolution, inspired abolitionist networks in Britain, and later shaped the international working‑class movement.

The Two Revolutions: Against Monarchy and Against Slavery

The Revolution’s internal contradictions—between universal equality and the persistence of slavery—did not negate its revolutionary character. Rather, they generated a second, deeper revolution culminating in the Civil War. Wilentz emphasised that the struggle against slavery was not external to 1776 but inherent within it.⁶

Karl Marx grasped this dialectic with unmatched clarity. Writing for the International Working Men’s Association, he recognised that the Civil War represented the completion of the bourgeois‑democratic revolution begun in 1776.⁷ The working class in Britain, influenced by Marx and Engels, sided with the Union against the Confederacy, despite the economic hardships caused by the cotton famine.

The WSWS webinar traced this international thread: abolitionist diagrams circulated from London to Philadelphia; Lafayette carried the spirit of 1776 to Paris; British workers mourned Lincoln’s assassination.⁸ The Revolution’s universalist content proved irrepressible.

The Presentist Falsification of History

The greatest threat to the Revolution today stems from racialist narratives promoted by the New York Times’ 1619 Project and Gerald Horne’s The Counter-Revolution of 1776. These works suggest that the Revolution aimed to preserve slavery, argue that 1776 was not truly a revolution, or even describe it as a counter-revolution.

Thomas Mackaman demolished this fabrication: “In its time, nobody, including its enemies, thought it was anything but a revolution.”⁹ The claim that the Revolution was a pro‑slavery conspiracy is a grotesque anachronism, a projection of contemporary racial politics onto the eighteenth century.

Both Mackaman and Wilentz identified the method of these narratives as “presentism” and “anachronism.”¹⁰ They reduce history to moral denunciation, stripping events of their material context and class dynamics. David North exposed the underlying ideology as a “petty‑bourgeois view of history” that substitutes race for class and rests on a “perverted zoological conception” of human society.¹¹

Oakes drew the logical conclusion: the universalist principle of equality is “seriously antithetical to identity politics,” which fragments society into antagonistic racial blocs.¹² The 1619 Project’s racial essentialism is not a radical critique of America’s past but a reactionary repudiation of Enlightenment rationality.

The 1619 Project did not develop in isolation. It reflects the worldview of a ruling class that has become increasingly distrustful of its revolutionary democratic roots. As the WSWS notes, the political elite shows “disinterest and indeed hostility... to the bourgeois democratic traditions of the United States itself." In this context, the New York Times’ 1619 Project serves a clear political purpose: it disconnects the working class from the universalist, Enlightenment-inspired principles of 1776. Instead, it promotes a racial mythology that hampers collective action.

The central claim of the Project—that the United States was founded as a slavocracy, that 1619 is the actual founding year, and that the Revolution was fought primarily to defend slavery—is not just mistaken; it distorts history through flawed methods that conflict with rigorous scholarship. It replaces class with race, moralism with materialism, and judges the past through a modern lens.

The 1619 Project isn't a historical account but a moral story crafted to support current political objectives. As Thomas Mackaman and Sean Wilentz pointed out in the WSWS webinar, it employs 'presentism' and 'anachronism' by judging the past through today's standards, reducing complex historical events to moral judgments about individuals. Presentism isn't just a flawed method; it fundamentally rejects genuine historical analysis by blurring the line between past and present, preventing understanding of historical figures within their own context. David North highlighted that this approach replaces explanation with moral condemnation and lacks true explanatory power.

The racial essentialism underlying the Project.

The 1619 Project is based on what North correctly calls a “perverted zoological conception” of human society. It views race as a timeless, unchangeable factor that determines human behaviour. This isn’t radical thinking; it’s a step backwards to pre-Enlightenment ideas. It dismisses the idea that human reason is universal and that people can overcome inherited social roles.

The Project criticises the Declaration of Independence because its claim that “all men are created equal” clashes with its racial worldview. As Oakes notes, the universalist idea of equality directly conflicts with identity politics. Consequently, the 1619 Project seeks to challenge the validity of the Enlightenment itself.  

The Revolution was not fought to defend slavery

The Project claims that colonists rebelled to defend slavery from British abolition, but this is clearly false. There is no evidence—none—that fears of abolition drove the Revolution. As Mackaman noted earlier, “In its time, nobody, including its enemies, thought it was anything but a revolution.” The British Empire didn't abolish slavery until 1833, fifty-seven years after the Declaration. The Somerset decision of 1772 applied only to England and Wales, not to the colonies. The idea that it threatened colonial slavery is a myth.

The Revolution sparked ideological forces that made slavery increasingly difficult to sustain. The earliest abolition societies appeared in the 1770s and 1780s. Northern states began to enact gradual emancipation. The Declaration’s universal principles directly influenced the antislavery movement. Wilentz repeated his point that “you can’t understand any of the other revolutions without understanding the American Revolution.” The 1619 Project, however, isolates the Revolution from the Atlantic world, overlooking its crucial role in the French and Haitian Revolutions and the global push for democracy.

The Continuity of Democratic Struggle

Far from being a dead letter, the Declaration’s principles have animated every major democratic movement in American history. Oakes noted that labour radicals of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries “repeatedly invoked the Declaration of Independence,” as did abolitionists and suffragists before them.¹³

Adam Hochschild demonstrated the contemporary relevance of the Declaration’s indictment of George III. Its charges—military power over civil authority, the transportation of people “beyond seas” for “pretended offences”—read, he observed, as if they “were written this morning.”¹⁴The continuity is unmistakable: the struggle for democratic rights is inseparable from the revolutionary legacy of 1776.

The Present Crisis and the Necessity of Historical Consciousness

The United States is undergoing a profound crisis of bourgeois democracy. Trump’s open embrace of dictatorial methods, his attempt to overturn the 2020 election, and his use of the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 for mass deportations all testify to the breakdown of constitutional norms.¹⁵The Supreme Court’s reactionary rulings, the impunity of the January 6 conspirators, and the draconian sentences imposed on anti‑ICE protesters reveal a ruling class that has repudiated even the pretence of democratic rights.¹⁶

In this context, the fight over the meaning of 1776 is not academic. It is a struggle over political consciousness. As North concluded, “the political consciousness and perspective required for the future” cannot be supplied by any faction of the ruling class.¹⁷ The defence of democratic rights falls to the international working class, whose interests align with the universalist principles first articulated in 1776.

Conclusion: Toward 2036 and Beyond

North ventured a prediction: “The America and the world of 2036 will look vastly different from the world of today.”¹⁸ This is not utopian speculation but a sober assessment of the contradictions tearing apart global capitalism. The revolutionary potential of the international working class, the globalised character of modern society, and the intensifying social opposition all point toward profound transformations.

To realise this potential, the working class must reclaim the revolutionary heritage of 1776—not as nationalist mythology, but as part of the world‑historical struggle for human emancipation. The fight for socialism requires a fight for historical truth.

The WSWS webinar stands as a major contribution to that struggle. Its analysis must be studied, disseminated, and armed with Marxist clarity. The meaning of 1776 is not settled in the past; it is being fought over in the present, and its outcome will shape the future.

Footnotes

  1. On the eve of the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, 1.
  2. Ibid., 2.
  3. Ibid., 4.
  4. Ibid., 5.
  5. Ibid., 3.
  6. Ibid., 5.
  7. Karl Marx, The Civil War in the United States (New York: International Publishers, 1937).
  8. On the eve…, 3–4.
  9. Ibid., 6.
  10. Ibid., 6.
  11. Ibid., 7.
  12. Ibid., 7.
  13. Ibid., 4.
  14. Ibid., 8.
  15. Ibid., 2.
  16. Ibid., 8.
  17. Ibid., 9.
  18. Ibid., 9.

Endnotes

The Writings of Thomas Paine, (1774-1779) oll.libertyfund.org/titles/paine-the-writings-of-thomas-paine-vol-i-1774-1779

Friday, 26 June 2026

From Puritanism to Postmodernism: An Examination of Ruland and Bradbury’s Bourgeois Literary History

Richard Ruland and Malcolm Bradbury’s 1991 book, From Puritanism to Postmodernism, remains a staple in American university course lists, where it is regarded as an authoritative overview of American literary history. However, its longevity reflects more the ideological preferences of the modern academic world than rigorous scholarship. The book presents a sanitised, depoliticised account of American literature, one that neglects the class struggle, suppresses the Marxist perspective, and concludes with a celebration of postmodernism. This ideological stance represents a social order in decline.

Marxist criticism's role is not merely to annotate distortions politely but to reveal their social purpose. Trotsky emphasised that, like science, art does not seek orders and inherently cannot accept them.”¹ The bourgeois academy, however, requires this kind of obedience: a literary history that normalises capitalist growth and hides the revolutionary contribution of the working class.

Teleology as Ideology: “From Puritanism to Postmodernism”

The book’s title presents its ideological stance. It suggests that American literature evolved from Puritanism to postmodernism, implying that the latter is the inevitable result of a three-century progression. This notion of teleology is significant because it subtly endorses the reactionary view that postmodernism—characterised by its dismissal of objective truth, rejection of historical causality, and emphasis on subjectivity—is the rightful conclusion of American literary evolution.

As David North has shown, postmodernism did not originate from a true philosophical breakthrough. Instead, it resulted from the political disintegration of the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia after Stalinism's betrayals, the setbacks faced by the working class in the 1970s and 1980s, and the collapse of the USSR.² Its central dogmas—the “incredulity toward metanarratives,” fragmentation, pastiche—are the ideological rationalisations of a social layer that has abandoned any connection to the revolutionary struggle of the working class. To present this retreat as the “culmination” of American literary history is to falsify history itself.

A Literary History Without History

Ruland and Bradbury’s approach exemplifies standard academic idealism: viewing literature as a self-contained domain driven by the internal development of aesthetic forms. The role of class struggle—the driving force of American history—is practically missing. It's possible to read hundreds of pages without encountering the Civil War as a conflict over the expansion of slavery production³. The transformation of literary production by industrial capitalism⁴ and the impact of the Great Depression and the class battles of the 1930s⁵the cultural devastation wrought by the Cold War anti‑communist purge⁶Instead, literature appears as a polite conversation among authors, floating serenely above the social convulsions that shaped their work. This is not history but embalming.  

The Erasure of the Working Class

The most noticeable oversight is the absence of the working class. American literature features a strong tradition of authors who directly addressed class conflict—such as Jack London, Upton Sinclair, John Dos Passos, Richard Wright, Tillie Olsen, and others. However, in Ruland and Bradbury’s portrayal, these figures are merely seen as “protest literature” or “naturalism," with their political beliefs reduced to stylistic labels.

Their depoliticisation reaches its lowest point in the way they handle Theodore Dreiser. 'An American Tragedy' (1925), arguably the most impactful American novel of the 20th century, is not just a naturalist story but a harsh critique of the American class system—the “American dream” revealed as a tool that destroys human lives. As David Walsh pointed out, Dreiser achieved “perhaps the most acute and all-sided alignment of the individual and national tragedy" because he understood how social forces shape personal destinies. Ruland and Bradbury can't recognise this because their framework fails to see class as a significant historical factor.

Why Dreiser Matters

Any Marxist reinterpretation of American literary history must prioritise Theodore Dreiser. No other American novelist of the twentieth century directly addressed the harsh realities of capitalism with such honesty. Dreiser’s major works—especially Sister Carrie (1900) and An American Tragedy (1925)—stand as the most detailed effort in American literature to explore how social factors shape individual destinies. As David Walsh has noted, Dreiser achieved “perhaps the most keen and comprehensive alignment of personal and national tragedy” within the American canon.

Dreiser is often dismissed, depoliticised, or overlooked by bourgeois literary historians. For example, Ruland and Bradbury, in From Puritanism to Postmodernism, portray him as merely a "naturalist" and a writer focused on "social conditions," viewing him as a precursor to protest literature. This view erases his political commitments, his involvement in class struggle, and his sharp critique of American capitalism.

Restoring Dreiser’s proper position involves seeing him not just as a naturalist portraying social suffering, but as the leading figure of American realism from a Marxist perspective—an artist who understands the dialectical connection between individual psychology and social totality.

Dreiser’s Realism and the Materialist Conception of History

Dreiser’s realism is closely linked to a materialist view of history. He instinctively and increasingly consciously recognised that social forces, beyond individual control, shape human behaviour. This perspective aligns him with the major European realists—Balzac, Tolstoy, Zola—who Engels praised for illustrating “the social relations of their time”, even if they held conservative political views.³ Dreiser’s novels reveal: the commodification of human relationships, the fierce competition of capitalist society, the ideological deception of the “American dream," and the oppressive influence of class status.

In Sister Carrie, the protagonist’s ascent reflects the influence of impersonal economic forces rather than personal determination. Similarly, in An American Tragedy, Clyde Griffiths' downfall is driven by the systemic flaws of American capitalism rather than moral failings. Dreiser’s realism emphasises historical and social contexts rather than psychological or moral interpretations; it is rooted in materialism rather than idealism.

An American Tragedy: The Novel of the American Century

An American Tragedy is considered the most significant American novel of the twentieth century. It uniquely tackles the core paradox of its time: the hope of endless opportunity in a society divided by class inequality.

Clyde Griffiths exemplifies a common outcome of a society that encourages youth to pursue wealth but restricts their access to it. His story illustrates problems inherent in American capitalism. Dreiser’s success is in demonstrating how: Clyde’s desires are moulded by consumer culture; his social class limits his opportunities; economic pressures influence his moral decisions; and the legal system acts as a tool for maintaining class dominance. This embodies Marxist realism, exposing social realities through the individual's fate.

Dreiser and the Class Struggle

Dreiser’s political journey was inconsistent and influenced by the turbulent events of the early 20th century. He expressed sympathy for the working class, backed the Russian Revolution, and criticised the abuses of American capitalism. However, he also, unfortunately, fell under the Popular Front's ideological pressures. Like many artists of his time, he confused Stalinism with socialism and sacrificed his artistic independence to serve the diplomatic interests of the Soviet bureaucracy.

A Marxist evaluation must recognize both aspects: Dreiser’s realism as a pinnacle of American literature and his political surrender as a sign of Stalinism's harmful effect on the American left. This duality is crucial for understanding twentieth-century cultural history.

Ruland & Bradbury’s Falsification of Dreiser

Ruland and Bradbury’s analysis of Dreiser exemplifies bourgeois literary mystification. They reduce him to a mere 'naturalist,' overlook his critique of capitalism, ignore his involvement with socialism, and fail to place his work within the context of class struggle. Instead, they interpret _An American Tragedy_ as a psychological analysis rather than a social critique. Their chapter on Dreiser is not only lacking but also driven by ideological bias. Recognizing Dreiser’s Marxist relevance would threaten the overall teleological narrative of their book, which ultimately celebrates postmodernism.

Dreiser reveals the social truth often denied by postmodernism: that human life is influenced by objective forces, society has an underlying structure, and capitalism is a historical system with a start and an end.

Dreiser and the Decline of American Literature

The decline of American literature after the 1930s cannot be fully understood without considering Dreiser. He symbolizes the last key figure in a realism tradition that aimed to expose the truths of American society. Following Dreiser, various forces—including Stalinism, anti-communism, the Cold War purges, the commercialization of culture, and the emergence of postmodernism—eroded the conditions necessary for meaningful artistic engagement with social realities. In the postwar period, the novel shifted towards formal experimentation, psychological depth, irony, pastiche, subjectivism, and identity politics. This shift was not driven by artistic innovation but by the ideological demands of a ruling class that prefers to avoid confronting reality.

Dreiser and the Marxist Reconstruction of American Literature

Dreiser is central to any Marxist reinterpretation of American literary history. He is the author who most deeply understood the social conflicts within American capitalism and vividly illustrated their tragic impacts on individual lives. Restoring Dreiser to his deserved position means placing the working class at the heart of American cultural history. It also involves rejecting postmodernist claims denying objective truth and reaffirming the Marxist belief that literature can—and should—expose society's structural realities. Dreiser’s writings remain vital because the systemic issues he highlighted are still present. His novels speak not only to history but also to today’s crises of American capitalism, serving as tools in the ongoing fight for truth.

The Suppressed Marxist Tradition

Equally absent is the revolutionary Marxist tradition in American literary criticism: V.F. Calverton, Granville Hicks, Joseph Freeman, and the early Partisan Review before its capitulation to anti‑communism. Calverton insisted that literature must be understood as “a social product, conditioned by the economic and political forces of its time.”⁸ Hicks argued that the task of criticism was to reveal “the relation of literature to the class struggle.”⁹ These insights are incompatible with Ruland and Bradbury’s idealist framework and are therefore ignored.

Nor do the authors examine the catastrophic impact of Stalinism on American cultural life—the Popular Front’s subordination of artistic integrity to the diplomatic needs of the Soviet bureaucracy, the ideological confusion sown by the Communist Party’s zigzags, or the long‑term damage inflicted by the postwar purge. As Trotsky warned, the Stalinist bureaucracy represented “the antithesis of socialist culture.”¹⁰ Its influence on American letters cannot be omitted without falsifying the historical record.

Postmodernism: The Ideology of a Decaying Order

By the time Ruland and Bradbury arrive at postmodernism, their framework disintegrates into the very phenomenon it attempts to analyze. They regard postmodernism as a valid literary evolution, linking it to writers like Hawthorne, Melville, James, and Faulkner. However, this is a distorted misrepresentation. The gap between nineteenth-century realists—who believed literature could reveal social truths—and postmodernists—who deny the existence of truth—is not a progression but a downfall. The fragmentation, irony, and pastiche that postmodern theorists praise are not purely artistic innovations but signs of a ruling class that can no longer confront reality.Postmodernism is the cultural superstructure of a capitalism that has exhausted its progressive historical role.¹¹ 

Toward a Marxist History of American Literature

A truly Marxist history would start not with Puritan theology but with the material development of American capitalism: including primitive accumulation and the genocide of indigenous peoples, the slave South and its destruction during the Civil War, the rise of industrial capitalism and the class conflicts from 1877 to 1934, the betrayals involving the CIO and Stalinists, the Cold War, and the long decline of American imperialism. It would also view major writers—Hawthorne, Melville, Twain, James, Wharton, Dreiser, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Wright—not as isolated geniuses but as artists who, to varying degrees, reflected the social realities of life under capitalism.

And it would explain the decline of American literature since the 1930s not as a sequence of aesthetic fashions but as the cultural expression of a ruling class that has nothing left to say.

Conclusion: The Working Class as the Heir of Culture

Trotsky insisted that the working class is the heir of all genuine culture.¹² It does not need a literary history that ends in postmodern cynicism, relativism, and despair. It needs a literary history that arms it with the truth—about capitalism, about its own revolutionary role, and about the profound social forces that shape artistic creation.

Ruland and Bradbury’s From Puritanism to Postmodernism presents a sanitized, depoliticized, and reactionary view. It should be rejected not just academically but politically as well. Marxist criticism's role is to free American literature from academic ideological biases and reestablish its connection to the fight for human emancipation.

Footnotes

  1. Leon Trotsky, Literature and Revolution (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1991), 182.
  2. David North, In Defence of Leon Trotsky (Oak Park: Mehring Books, 2012), 245–60.
  3. Karl Marx, The Civil War in the United States (New York: International Publishers, 1937), 54–60.
  4. Friedrich Engels, The Condition of the Working Class in England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 27–45.
  5. Mike Davis, Prisoners of the American Dream (London: Verso, 1986), 89–120.
  6. Ellen Schrecker, No Ivory Tower: McCarthyism and the Universities (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 3–40.
  7. David Walsh, “Theodore Dreiser and the Tragedy of American Life,” World Socialist Web Site, 2001.
  8. V.F. Calverton, The Liberation of American Literature (New York: Scribner’s, 1932), 12.
  9. Granville Hicks, The Great Tradition (New York: Macmillan, 1933), 4.
  10. Leon Trotsky, The Revolution Betrayed (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1972), 112.
  11. North, In Defence of Leon Trotsky, 258.
  12. Trotsky, Literature and Revolution, 40.

 

Bibliography

Calverton, V.F. The Liberation of American Literature. New York: Scribner’s, 1932.

Davis, Mike. Prisoners of the American Dream. London: Verso, 1986.

Engels, Friedrich. The Condition of the Working Class in England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Hicks, Granville. The Great Tradition. New York: Macmillan, 1933.

Marx, Karl. The Civil War in the United States. New York: International Publishers, 1937.

North, David. In Defence of Leon Trotsky. Oak Park: Mehring Books, 2012.

Schrecker, Ellen. No Ivory Tower: McCarthyism and the Universities. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986.

Trotsky, Leon. Literature and Revolution. New York: Pathfinder Press, 1991.

———. The Revolution Betrayed. New York: Pathfinder Press, 1972.

Walsh, David. “Theodore Dreiser and the Tragedy of American Life.” World Socialist Web Site. 2001.

 

What Though the Field Be Lost: Christopher Kempf, the Civil War, and the Ideology of Ambivalence Introduction: Poetry at the End of the American Cycle

Christopher Kempf’s What Though the Field Be Lost appears at a moment of profound crisis in American society. Staggering levels of social inequality ravage the United States, a political system in advanced decay, and a ruling class increasingly reliant on authoritarian methods to maintain its dominance. Under such conditions, the Civil War — the “Second American Revolution” — inevitably returns as a point of reference. It is the last moment in US history when the contradictions of the social order were resolved through revolutionary means. Any serious artistic engagement with the present must therefore confront the legacy of that conflict not as a cultural inheritance but as a historical process driven by class forces.

Kempf’s collection highlights the ideological deadlock facing modern American intellectuals. It is driven by a sincere desire to explore the past and its ongoing impact today. The work dismisses the superficial confessional trends common in American poetry, focusing instead on history, landscape, and the enduring material traces of the Civil War within the American consciousness. However, it is ultimately limited by the ideological frameworks—such as race, region, identity, and the elevation of “ambivalence” as a moral and aesthetic ideal—that shape how the liberal-academic world interprets reality.

The poem explores key questions of American history, though it stops short of fully addressing them. Kempf perceives the Civil War as a revolutionary break and senses the lingering contradictions it left unresolved. He also intuitively understands that today’s American capitalism crisis stems from the same class conflicts that ignited in 1861. However, he struggles to realise these ideas fully, instead adopting a stance of cultivated uncertainty, as if the poet’s role is to observe contradictions rather than resolve or comprehend them.

This ambivalence is fundamentally a social issue rather than an artistic one. It illustrates the stance of a segment of petty-bourgeois intelligentsia that exists anxiously between the working class and the ruling class, feeling the mounting pressures beneath but lacking the political and theoretical tools to understand their true meaning. Kempf’s poetry reflects this tension clearly: it hints at the revolutionary aspects of American history but stays grounded in culturalist ideas that hide that history’s true significance.

In this framework, the Civil War is seen not as a revolutionary clash between conflicting social systems but as a symbolic space where issues of identity, memory, and national belonging are explored. The working class is depicted not as an active historical force but as a cultural symbol — sometimes sentimentalised, sometimes ridiculed, admired for its “decency” yet often viewed humorously, as if its presence were an anthropological oddity rather than the cornerstone of modern society.

Kempf’s approach has limitations that go beyond aesthetics; they are political. As the American ruling class currently uses reactionary tactics—such as censorship, rewriting history, and fuelling racial and gender divisions—the artist’s role is to clarify the historical forces, not to aestheticise ambiguity. The Civil War was fundamentally a class struggle over the future of a social order, not merely an issue of identity politics. To relate its revolutionary fervour to today, one must pinpoint modern parallels, such as widening inequality, labour exploitation, and the global capitalism crisis.

Kempf’s poetry, despite its intelligence and craftsmanship, ultimately doesn't make this leap. It stays confined within the ideological limits of the present, unable to see the past as a guide for the future. Therefore, criticism's role isn't just to evaluate the poems but to situate them within the larger crisis of American intellectual life—one caused by the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia's failure to break free from the ideological frameworks that benefit the ruling class.

The Civil War as Historical Problem — Class, Revolution, and the Limits of Cultural Memory

The American Civil War holds a distinctive place in global history. It was more than just a regional conflict or a tragic internal rupture; it represented a revolutionary clash between two incompatible social systems: the industrialising capitalist North and the slave-dependent, semi-feudal South. The abolition of slavery—considered the largest expropriation of private property in the Western Hemisphere before the Russian Revolution—was not merely a consequence of the war but its core historical significance. To truly understand the Civil War, one must recognise it as a class struggle fought across the continent, with its outcome shaping the future of American capitalism for over a century.

However, prevailing ideological perspectives in modern American culture make this understanding nearly inaccessible. The Civil War is often viewed primarily through the lens of identity: as a clash among racial groups, regional cultures, or conflicting national narratives. This shift towards culturalist interpretation is intentional, serving the interests of the ruling class. It aims to hide the revolutionary roots of American history and to prevent the working class from realising its own historical power.

Kempf’s poetry, despite its historical interest, remains confined within a specific ideological framework. His portrayal of the Civil War is filtered through the lens of modern liberal concepts such as race, region, memory, and the obsession with “national identity.” These ideas are not just inadequate; they distort the true history of the conflict by turning a revolutionary war into a symbolic stage for cultural expression, emphasising ambiguity over social analysis.

Kempf’s portrayal of Confederate memory reveals an aesthetic focus on the monument’s "splendour," which is not merely a mistake but a natural outcome of viewing the Civil War as part of cultural heritage instead of a class struggle. When the war is seen as a conflict of identities, even reactionary ones gain a degree of legitimacy. Consequently, the Confederate cause is depicted as a tragic regional pride rather than a defence of human bondage. The monument is thus seen as an object of beauty rather than a symbol of violent reaction. A Marxist cannot adopt this perspective. The Civil War was a clash between social systems, not cultures. The Confederacy epitomised the most reactionary class in American history: a slaveholding oligarchy whose economic goals were opposed to modern societal progress. Approaching its symbols with ambivalence conceals the underlying class struggle and blurs the distinction between revolutionary change and reactionary forces. 

Kempf’s poetry reveals a broader issue in how Americans perceive their history. The Civil War is fading from its specific origins and instead serves as a symbol of national trauma, division, and contemporary anxieties. This isn’t merely a misunderstanding; it is a political error. Detaching the Civil War from its class issues erases the working class's revolutionary legacy. It conceals that America’s major advances—such as ending slavery, expanding democratic rights, and asserting federal authority—were achieved through mass struggles, not just cultural debates.

Kempf’s work engages with this process, even as it aims to resist it. His poems include historical fragments, archival remnants, and traces of the past. Yet these elements do not provide a clear, dialectical view of history shaped by class struggles. Instead, they remain in an aestheticised ambiguity, suggesting that the poet is cautious about making definitive claims about the material he references.

This passage explains the ideological role of “ambivalence” in modern American literature. It enables artists to acknowledge historical complexity without confronting its political consequences. Instead of interpreting contradictions, poets act as curators of them. Essentially, it represents a form of ideological stagnation—the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia's failure to recognise the revolutionary significance of history when such awareness is critically needed.

The Civil War calls for clarity, requiring an understanding of history as a conflict among social forces rather than merely a collection of cultural identities. Kempf’s poetry, despite its intelligence and craftsmanship, ultimately falls short of this requirement. It mirrors the crisis of a social class that feels the looming Great Events but lacks the necessary theoretical and political tools to understand them fully.

The Ideology of Ambivalence — Petty-Bourgeois Paralysis in Contemporary American Poetry

In Christopher Kempf’s poetic universe, ambivalence functions as more than just a stylistic choice; it is the central ideological principle. It shapes the way history is perceived, informs the poet's attitude toward the world, and offers a means of transforming urgent social issues into aesthetic concerns. To understand "What Though the Field Be Lost," one must view ambivalence not merely as an artistic trait but as a mirror of a broader social problem: the stagnation of the contemporary American petty-bourgeois intellectual class amidst rising class conflicts.

Ambivalence as a Social Position, Not an Aesthetic Insight

Contemporary American poets, especially in academia, hold a conflicted social position. They encounter economic insecurity, become more proletarianised, and face pressures akin to those of the working class. Yet they remain ideologically connected to liberal institutions such as universities, foundations, and cultural organisations, which are strongly dedicated to maintaining the existing social order.

Ambivalence stems from this contradiction, illustrating a class segment that senses the system's instability but cannot imagine an alternative. It embodies the worldview of a social layer that experiences the pressures of capitalism but lacks the political insight to oppose it. Here, ambivalence indicates ideological fatigue rather than sophistication.

Kempf’s poetry effectively depicts this condition. His poems contain numerous historical fragments, political echoes, and social snapshots. Yet, these components never fully coalesce into a coherent view of the world. Instead, they remain in a state of unresolved tension, suggesting the poet is cautious about drawing his insights to their logical end.

The Aestheticisation of Contradiction

Ambivalence allows the poet to treat contradiction as an aesthetic theme instead of a historical process. The Civil War is portrayed as a collage of conflicting narratives; the working class is represented through cultural symbols; and the current crisis is shown as a series of “echoes” or “parallels,” rather than as a reflection of deepening class conflicts.

This aestheticisation of conflict serves to disarm political engagement by transforming the poet's role from a historian's interpreter to a curator of fragments. It suggests complexity without the obligation to analyse, indicating a withdrawal from active comprehension of the world. The WSWS review rightly notes that Kempf’s poems “juxtapose” instead of explaining, "hint” instead of fully expressing, and “suggest” rather than present definitive conclusions. This is not about poor craftsmanship but about perspective. The poet’s ambivalence is not a quest for truth; it is a means to avoid the effort of discovering it.

The Working Class as Cultural Object

Kempf’s portrayal of the American working class exemplifies ambivalence. His mentions of hot dogs, AutoZone, homecoming queens, and small-town rituals do not show solidarity, but rather an outsider's view. These references reflect a poet who watches the working class with affection and amusement, as if examining a cultural spectacle instead of engaging with a social group.

This perspective mirrors the wider liberal-academic view, which sees the working class not as active agents in history but as a cultural concept. Instead of being recognised as subjects shaping history, they are depicted as objects of representation. Their struggles, hopes, and contradictions are often aestheticised rather than genuinely comprehended.

Kempf’s ambivalence toward the working class reflects a class position rather than a personal trait. It represents a social stratum that is materially near the working class but ideologically disconnected from it. This group perceives the potential for working-class unity but struggles to see it as a feasible political reality.

Ambivalence as Ideological Containment

Ambivalence in contemporary American poetry serves a conservative role. It stops poets from making conclusions that could threaten the current social system. Instead, it turns political issues into artistic expressions. This way, poets can recognise social contradictions without the need to clarify or resolve them.

In this context, ambivalence benefits the ruling class by maintaining the intelligentsia's ideological confusion, hindering their ability to develop a clear critique of capitalism. It also conceals the revolutionary legacy of the Civil War with layers of cultural complexity. Additionally, it obstructs the working class from seeing itself as part of history.

The Confederate Question — Aestheticising Reaction in an Age of Resurgent Authoritarianism

The most politically sensitive part of 'What Though the Field Be Lost' is Kempf’s handling of Confederate memory. This section highlights the ideological limits of his uncertain approach and clearly shows the gap between historical materialism and today's liberal cultural perspectives. The Civil War is more than just another historical event; it is the pivotal moment in shaping the modern American state. Addressing its reactionary aspect — the slaveholders’ rebellion — with an aesthetic hesitation is not a neutral artistic decision. It represents a political statement, whether intentionally or not.

The Confederate Monument as an Aesthetic Object

Kempf’s mention of the “splendour” of a Confederate monument is more than a minor detail. It encapsulates the book's overall ideological framework. The monument is presented not simply as an emblem of a reactionary social order but as an aesthetic reflection, a remnant of a tragic history whose significance is complex, layered, and open to various interpretations.

This is exactly the core issue. The Confederate cause was clear-cut. It was neither tragic nor merely a cultural expression of regional identity. Instead, it was the organised political and military defence of a slaveholding oligarchy whose economic interests were inherently opposed to modern societal progress. Approaching its symbols with ambiguity masks the class nature of the conflict and blurs the distinction between revolution and counter-revolution.

The beautification of reactionary ideas is always risky politically, especially now when authoritarianism is resurging worldwide. The ruling class, facing worsening social issues, often resorts to distorting history, restoring reactionary symbols, and promoting nationalist myths. In this environment, the poet’s role isn't to make ambiguity look beautiful but to make the historical significance of the past clear.

The Liberal-Academic Reframing of the Civil War

Kempf’s approach to Confederate memory exemplifies a wider trend within the liberal academic sphere: the transformation of the Civil War from a conflict of revolutionary class struggle into a cultural narrative centred on identity, memory, and regional pride. This reframing serves a particular ideological purpose. It enables the ruling elite to diminish the revolutionary roots of the Civil War by separating it from its material, economic foundations. When the Civil War is viewed as a clash of identities, all identities — including reactionary ones — are given some degree of legitimacy. 

The rebellion of slaveholders is seen as a “perspective,” a “narrative," or a “memory." Confederate monuments then become sites of cultural significance rather than symbols of a social order rooted in human slavery. This perspective is not about historical accuracy but about ideological control.

The Class Content of the Confederate Cause

From a Marxist viewpoint, the Confederacy was the most reactionary social class in U.S. history. The slaveholding elite aimed not to defend a “way of life” but to uphold a property system that forcibly repressed millions. Their defeat was a vital step in the development of modern American capitalism and the expansion of democratic rights. Romanticising Confederate symbols conceals the revolutionary importance of the Civil War, portraying reactionary elements as mere cultural symbols rather than organised resistance by a ruling class resisting progress.

Ambivalence as a Form of Historical Neutralisation

Kempf’s mixed feelings about Confederate memory are not a flaw but a core aspect of his approach. This ambivalence enables him to view reactionary symbols as aesthetic objects rather than as displays of class dominance. As a result, the Confederate monument becomes a space for reflection instead of a symbol of the violent social system it signifies.

This is not harmless. In a time when authoritarianism is resurging—reactionary forces openly use Confederate imagery, the ruling class revives symbols of past oppression, and historical falsehoods serve political control—the aesthetic presentation of reaction unintentionally aids in confusing the public's understanding of ideology. The poet who treats the Confederate monument with ambivalence is not impartial; instead, he contributes to a larger cultural trend that normalises, sanitises, and erases the historical significance of reaction.

The Importance of Clear Historical Perspective

Understanding the Civil War requires focusing on its social forces rather than viewing it solely as a conflict of cultural identities. The Confederate cause was mainly reactionary, as shown by its symbols and monuments. Ignoring this viewpoint obscures the class dynamics involved and hinders the working class from truly grasping its history. Kempf’s poetry, while insightful and skillfully written, ultimately misses this point. It mirrors the ideological stalemate of a social class that predicts major events but fails to understand the underlying historical forces.

 Kempf’s Interview — Latent Class Insight and the Limits of Liberal Consciousness

Kempf’s interview with the WSWS is the most insightful document on What Though the Field Be Lost, revealing the gap between the poet’s latent political awareness and the ideological limits that influence his artistic approach. In the interview, Kempf offers insights that nearly align with a Marxist critique of modern American society. However, these insights are largely missing from the poetry itself. Thus, the interview acts as a kind of critical commentary on the book — showcasing what the poet understands but avoids expressing. [1]

The Poet Speaks More Clearly Than the Poems

Kempf acknowledges the social themes in his work, highlighting realities his poems only hint at. He points out that graduate students, whom he describes as experiencing "precarious labour," share similar class interests with "Trump voters" in the rural Midwest. This is a notable admission because it contradicts the widespread belief that these groups are culturally incompatible. Instead, it reveals that beneath political differences lies a shared material condition: exploitation by capital.

This point is fundamental and underpins any serious socialist analysis of modern America. However, in the poetry, this understanding is only implicit, expressed through contrasts and echoes instead of a clear perspective. The poems acknowledge the cultural divide but fail to reveal the underlying class unity. The interview shows that Kempf is aware of this unity—it just can't see it as a political force.

The Poet’s Critique of Corporate Identity Politics

Kempf’s observation that “virtually every corporation has much to gain from promoting narrow, sectarian strife” stands out even more. This insight surpasses the rest of the book in political depth, framing identity politics not as an accidental cultural trend but as a deliberate instrument of class control — a way for the ruling class to divide the working class and hinder its awareness of shared interests.

This analysis is exactly what the WSWS presents, an insight that poetry, despite its intelligence, never fully captures. Kempf’s acknowledgement of the corporate roots of identity politics indicates he could offer a more radical critique than his poetry reveals. However, he remains bound by the liberal-academic environment, which emphasises identity as the main lens for social analysis. This creates a clear disconnect: the poet’s political insight surpasses the ideological boundaries of his artistic approach.

The Liberal Fetish of “Ambivalence” as a Barrier to Clarity

Kempf justifies his poetic ambivalence as an intentional artistic choice. He believes that poetry doesn’t instruct directly but instead uses juxtaposition to provoke thought about parallels, incongruities, or echoes across history. This perspective is common among contemporary American writers, reflecting a generation of poets who are wary of clarity, tend to steer clear of political commitments, and regard ambiguity as a sign of artistic refinement.

However, this defence fails on closer examination. Ambivalence is not a way to uncover truth; it serves to avoid it. It allows the poet to recognise social contradictions without analysing them, thereby turning political issues into aesthetic concerns. Essentially, it acts as a form of ideological containment— preventing the poet’s insights from becoming threatening.

Kempf’s interview shows he can be clear. He understands modern American class dynamics and the influence of corporations in fostering division. He also recognises the potential for unity among workers. However, his poetic style, rooted in liberal ambivalence, stops him from stating these insights plainly.

The Unspoken Tension: A Poet on the Threshold of Marxism

The interview reveals a tension permeating the entire project: Kempf is on the verge of adopting a Marxist perspective on American history, but is still unable to do so fully. He recognises the Civil War's revolutionary significance and identifies class struggles in modern society. Although instinctively aware, he also recognises that identity-politics categories do not sufficiently explain the current crisis.

However, he stays confined to the ideological frameworks of the liberal-academic environment. He is unable to see the working class as an active force in history. He cannot envision the potential for revolutionary change. Additionally, he struggles to move beyond the aestheticisation of ambivalence.

The result is a poetry that is historically curious but politically paralysed — a poetry that gestures toward revolution but retreats into ambiguity.

The Task of Criticism

Marxist criticism aims to contextualise Kempf's work within the broader crisis of American intellectual life rather than criticise him for failing to produce socialist poetry. His ambivalence is understood as a social issue, indicative of the paralysis of petty-bourgeois intelligentsia who sense major events approaching but lack the theoretical and political tools to understand them.

The interview points in a different direction—one based on class analysis, historical understanding, and recognition of the working class as the key force in modern society. However, this alternative approach is not yet reflected in his poetry.

The article discusses how Kempf struggles to link the Civil War's legacy to today's issues. The unresolved tension in "What Though the Field Be Lost" only becomes evident when connected to the current American capitalism crisis. For Kempf, the Civil War is not just history but a key perspective on America’s ongoing divisions. Yet pressing modern problems like the decline of democratic institutions, rising inequality, and the resurgence of authoritarianism demand a clearer historical understanding—something Kempf’s uncertain approach does not entirely provide.

The Civil War as a Mirror of the Present

The Civil War marked the final time in American history when revolutionary methods resolved the contradictions within the social order. It was a conflict centred not on cultural identity but on the future of the social system itself. The abolition of slavery was a crucial prerequisite for the rise of modern American capitalism. As Marx described, it was a “bourgeois revolution” led by the most progressive elements of the ruling class and backed by the widespread mobilisation of both the working class and the enslaved people.

Today, the United States faces a new yet equally significant crisis. The contradictions of capitalism—such as globalised production, financialisation, extreme inequality, and political decline—have escalated to the point where traditional governance structures can no longer contain them. In response, the ruling class employs authoritarian tactics, engages in historical distortion, and fosters racial and gender divisions. Meanwhile, the working class, though fragmented and confused, remains objectively the sole force capable of addressing the crisis.

At such a moment, the Civil War acts as a mirror, reflecting the revolutionary potential of the working class, emphasising the need to challenge reactionary forces, and showing that deep social conflicts cannot be resolved through cultural negotiation. Kempf perceives this clearly. His poems echo the past within the present, capturing the “presentness of the past" and the strange persistence of Civil War memory in modern American life. However, he cannot explicitly express this link, as doing so would mean abandoning the ideological frameworks of identity and ambivalence that underpin his work.

The Liberal-Academic Horizon as a Barrier to Historical Understanding. Kempf’s poetry is limited not by aesthetics but by ideology. He views the Civil War mainly through familiar liberal categories like race, region, identity, and memory. These are not impartial; they serve as ideological tools the ruling class uses to interpret social conflict in cultural terms, concealing its economic roots. To truly see the Civil War as a class struggle, one must recognise the class nature of the current crisis. This involves understanding that the working class, rather than cultural identity groups, is the key force today and abandoning the dominant ideological frameworks in academia in favour of a historical materialist approach.

Kempf is unable to make this leap because it would directly conflict with the institutions shaping his worldview. The liberal-academic environment treats identity as the primary analytical category and regards class as either secondary or suspect. It promotes ambivalence and mistrusts clarity, encouraging the aestheticisation of contradiction while discouraging political engagement. Kempf’s poetry embodies these restrictions: it is historically intriguing but politically reserved. It hints at class struggle but focuses on cultural aspects, sensing the Civil War's revolutionary potential yet failing to express it.

The Revolutionary Legacy of the Civil War and the Fear of Its Implications

Viewing the Civil War as a revolutionary event means acknowledging the potential for revolution today. This hidden fear underscores Kempf’s analysis. The Civil War was not merely a tragic conflict of identities but a violent break that dismantled the old social order and established a new one. During this period, the working class and the oppressed significantly influenced the course of history.

Recognising this suggests that the current crisis might demand a significant rupture. It acknowledges that the contradictions within modern capitalism cannot be resolved through cultural debates or aesthetic indifference. Instead, it emphasises that the working class, rather than the liberal intelligentsia, drives historical change. Kempf’s poetry hints at this possibility but never fully confronts it. The Civil War is depicted as a haunting memory or a symbolic landscape — never as a framework for understanding today. While the poems sense the arrival of major events, they remain immobile in the presence of these events.

Conclusion — Toward a Marxist Aesthetics of the American Past

The contradictions at the heart of What Though the Field Be Lost are not merely the contradictions of a single poet. They are the contradictions of an entire social layer — the American petty-bourgeois intelligentsia — confronting a historical moment that exceeds its ideological capacities. Kempf’s work is therefore valuable not only for what it says, but for what it cannot say; not only for its insights, but for its silences; not only for its historical curiosity, but for the ideological limits that shape it.

Kempf’s collection title, taken from Milton — "What though the field be lost?" — reveals more than the poet might expect. The field is not truly lost. The revolutionary legacy of American history endures. The working class continues to be the key driver of historical change. The contradictions within modern capitalism highlight the need for revolutionary transformation.

What is required is clarity — the clarity that ambivalence cannot provide, the clarity that historical materialism demands, the clarity that the present crisis makes unavoidable.

Kempf’s poetry, for all its limitations, is a symptom of a society on the brink of transformation. It registers the tremors beneath the surface. It senses the approach of great events. It reveals, in its very hesitations, the ideological crisis of a social layer confronted with the return of history. The task now is to move beyond ambivalence — to grasp the field not as lost, but as the terrain upon which the future will be fought.

 

 Notes

What Though the Field Be Lost: Poet Christopher Kempf’s historical view of contemporary America-Erik Schreiber-www.wsws.org/en/articles/2021/07/29/kemp-j29.html

 



[1] An interview with poet Christopher Kempf, author of What Though the Field Be Lost-www.wsws.org/en/articles/2021/08/18/kemp-a18.html