Set My Heart on Fire: Izumi Suzuki, Petty Bourgeois Despair, and the Ideology of Her Revival

A Literary Resurrection as Political Symptom

The reissue of Izumi Suzuki’s Terminal Boredom and Set My Heart on Fire by Verso Books is more than just a literary event; it is a political gesture. Suzuki’s portrayal as a “radical feminist icon” by the #MeToo movement and the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia reflects the ideological needs of the ruling class facing the most severe crisis of global capitalism since the 1930s. Her fiction—branded as rebellious, provocative, and visionary—is actually a reflection of political defeat, social fragmentation, and petty-bourgeois despair.

The fact that a publisher, claiming to be "left-wing," is now promoting this kind of work serves as a warning: identity-driven pseudo-radicalism has become a cultural tool used to redirect social anger away from capitalism and into pointless, apolitical dead ends. Suzuki’s resurgence should be viewed in a historical context. It is motivated more by ideological convenience than by literary value.

Historical and Class Context: Literature Born of Defeat

Suzuki’s worldview wasn't born from personal eccentricity or a tragic life story. Instead, it stemmed from the devastating defeat of Japan's working class after the war—a loss managed, justified, and upheld by the Stalinist Japanese Communist Party (JCP). The JCP’s cooperation with the American occupation, its nationalist stance, and its suppression of revolutionary efforts resulted in a political void. This vacuum left sections of the intelligentsia feeling alienated, pessimistic, and inward-looking.

Suzuki’s shift away from the working class was not merely a personal eccentricity but a result of both objective historical failures and subjective betrayals. This is the core idea. Suzuki’s writing does not symbolise progress; instead, it reflects a tired generation that lost hope and stopped seeking. The aftermath of defeat heavily influences her stories: they reject collective action, show a breakdown in historical awareness, and elevate individual trauma to a metaphysical level. This background forms the foundation of her fiction.

Suzuki’s Worldview: Gender War as Ersatz Politics

Suzuki’s stories centre around themes of gender conflict, misanthropy, and personal grievances. They portray worlds where men are imprisoned, women wield power through bureaucratic oppression, and social conflict is replaced by personal domination. This does not represent feminism or radical ideas. Instead, it reflects the ideology of a petty-bourgeois class that has lost faith in the working class, resorting to identity categories rather than class analysis.

Her dystopias mirror oppressive systems rather than challenge them. They don't provide a route to human freedom, only a reshuffling of the prison hierarchy. The uploaded document states: “Suzuki’s focus on gender classifications and identity… aligns with a petty-bourgeois movement that replaces collective class action with individual grievances.” This explains why the #MeToo movement supports her. As it's rooted in upper-middle-class circles, it emphasises personal trauma over social analysis and views gender identity as the main political focus. Suzuki offers a simplified mythology: a world where men are naturally oppressive, women are inherently victims, and social change is reduced to interpersonal power struggles. Her writings reflect a resignation rather than resistance.

The Philip K. Dick Comparison: A Category Error

Calling Suzuki 'Japan’s Philip K. Dick” is not just inaccurate but also politically telling. Dick, despite his contradictions, wrestled with major 20th-century issues such as fascism, technological power, the vulnerability of democracies, and the manipulation of consciousness. As the uploaded document mentions, The Man in the High Castle explores themes of historical memory and the political fallout of losing.

Suzuki, in contrast, completely withdraws from history. Her worlds are sealed off, lacking social conflict, class distinctions, or collective action. They feel claustrophobic, introspective, and politically inert. Comparing Dick and Suzuki blurs the lines between pessimism and depth. Dick explores the roots of alienation, while Suzuki depicts alienation as an aesthetic. This comparison unfairly favours Dick and misrepresents Suzuki.

Her work risks falling into psychologism, but her personal experiences—marriage to Kaoru Abe, violence, the toe-cutting incident, and suicide—should not be seen as explanations for her writing. Instead, they reflect the same social pathology that influences her fiction: the isolation of the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia, disconnected from the working class and overwhelmed by personal despair.

A Marxist review should reject the liberal approach that treats biography as direct causation. Instead, the focus is not on pathologising Suzuki but on uncovering the social forces that shaped her art and tragedy. Both her personal life and her fiction originate from the same source: the political defeat of the working class and the ideological collapse of the petty-bourgeois intelligentsia.

A polemical review must do more than reject; it needs to establish clear standards. What sets progressive science fiction apart is not its optimism but its awareness of history. It portrays humans as active participants within a social whole, capable of changing their circumstances. It acknowledges that alienation stems from social class rather than being a metaphysical constant. Writers like Dick, Lem, and certain aspects of New Wave SF understood this. Their work, despite certain flaws, engages with the social and historical forces influencing human life. Suzuki, however, does not. Her fiction reflects paralysis rather than potential. A Marxist critique should explicitly define this criterion.

Why Suzuki, and Why Now? The Ideological Function of Her Revival

This is the key question. Suzuki’s resurgence is motivated more by ideological usefulness than literary quality. Bourgeois publishers—including Verso—have adopted identity politics as a replacement for true social critique. They favour stories of personal trauma, gender conflict, and apolitical melancholy because these types of “dissent” do not challenge capitalist property systems.

Suzuki’s fiction resonates now because it lets readers feel “radical” without having to take political action. It diverts social frustration from capitalism to personal relationships. By framing the crisis of bourgeois society as a gender conflict, it shields the ruling class from criticism. Her revival functions as a cultural strategy: elevating a petty-bourgeois perspective exactly when many are mobilising against capitalism.

Conclusion: A Literature of Political Defeat

Suzuki’s fiction is neither revolutionary, feminist, nor progressive. It represents the artistic voice of political defeat. Verso's revival is a concession to the ruling class's ideological needs, aiming to redirect social anger into identity-based dead ends. A Marxist review must critically expose this process. The goal is not to mourn Suzuki but to understand her: to situate her work within the broader historical crisis that shaped it and to oppose the ideological forces seeking to weaponise it against the working class.

Her fiction is a thing of the past. The future will be shaped by a working class that refuses to accept the petty-bourgeois despair that Suzuki mistakenly took as truth.

 

The Living Declaration: A Review of Edward L. Widmer’s Biography of America’s Founding Text

 

The Declaration as a Battleground of Historical Memory

Edward L. Widmer’s The Living Declaration is framed as a “biography” of the Declaration of Independence. This genre has grown popular in recent years amid the commercialisation of the American founding. In mainstream liberal scholarship, these biographies often serve not as critical examinations of revolutionary ideas but as tools to reinforce the current ideological framework. Despite its engaging writing style and clear narrative, Widmer’s book fits well within this tradition.

The Declaration of Independence isn't a neutral document; it serves as a revolutionary manifesto. Its core principles—equality, popular sovereignty, and the right to revolution—have significantly influenced major social conflicts throughout American history. Any in-depth analysis must address the radical implications of these ideas for today's society. However, Widmer avoids this challenge, presenting a cleaned-up, heritage-focused version that downplays the Declaration’s revolutionary significance and reframes it as a civic symbol aligned with capitalist elites.

The Declaration as a Product of World-Historical Crisis

The Declaration of Independence was more than a philosophical concept created by Jefferson and his team. It signified a profound global crisis: the fall of the ancien régime, the rise of capitalist social relations, and the emergence of a revolutionary bourgeoisie. This new class's struggle against feudal absolutism drastically changed the world.

A Marxist reconstruction starts not with Jefferson’s writing or Locke’s essays, but with the material changes in Atlantic capitalism during the eighteenth century. The Declaration served as the ideological manifestation of a society in flux, during a period when the emergent bourgeoisie aimed to dismantle feudal political structures while maintaining their economic base in private property. Its roots are deeply intertwined with the inherent contradictions within bourgeois society.

By the mid-1700s, the North American colonies had become deeply connected to Atlantic capitalism. The production of commodities such as tobacco, wheat, timber, and rum, as well as the use of enslaved labour, created a class of colonial merchants, planters, and professionals whose interests increasingly conflicted with those of the British imperial government.

Britain’s victory in the Seven Years’ War resulted in a substantial imperial debt. The Crown sought to increase revenue from the colonies via taxes and tighter administrative oversight. This was not driven by ethical concerns but by a material conflict between a growing bourgeois class and a declining imperial system.

The colonies operated as economically capitalist entities but remained politically subordinate to a monarchical and aristocratic state. This contradiction—capitalist economic relations existing under feudal political structures—was the root of the revolutionary crisis. The Declaration represents the ideological resolution to this conflict.

The Declaration’s phrases—“self-evident truths,” “unalienable rights,” “consent of the governed”—embody the core principles of Enlightenment rationalism. However, Enlightenment ideas were not purely abstract philosophy; they formed the ideological foundation of an advancing bourgeois class.

Locke’s theory of natural rights mainly served to justify private property. His well-known idea that property comes from labour isn't an absolute truth but rather a bourgeois rationalisation that supports capitalist accumulation. Jefferson’s version— “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness”—also reflects this classical perspective. The rights declared in the Declaration appear universal in structure but are bourgeois in substance.

The statement that “all men are created equal” was not a philosophical assertion. Instead, it served as a political tool to oppose aristocracy, monarchy, and inherited privilege. In this context, equality referred to equal legal status within a capitalist system, not equal social or economic conditions.

The Declaration’s reference to “self-evident truths” embodies the Enlightenment belief that society could be restructured based on rational principles. This expressed the bourgeoisie’s desire to overthrow irrational feudal systems. Reason was a revolutionary force—yet its revolutionary potential was confined within the bounds of bourgeois society.

The main authors of the Declaration were members of the colonial bourgeoisie, including lawyers, merchants, planters, and intellectuals. They articulated grievances related to taxation, trade restrictions, and imperial oversight, which were rooted in class interests. While artisans, small farmers, and urban labourers also significantly contributed to the revolutionary movement, their interests differed from those of the bourgeois elite. However, the imperial crisis temporarily unified these diverse groups with a shared purpose.

The Declaration’s universalism intentionally excluded enslaved Africans and indigenous peoples, reflecting a deliberate choice tied to the bourgeois revolution within a slave society. The tension between universal equality and racial slavery is not merely moral but also reveals a core contradiction in bourgeois property relations. Its most radical claim—that people can "alter or abolish” any government threatening their rights—appears revolutionary but fundamentally aligns with bourgeois interests.

The right of revolution was aimed at overthrowing monarchy and aristocracy, serving as the ideological basis for dismantling feudal political structures. While the bourgeoisie endorsed this right, they also feared it might threaten their own class interests. Interestingly, the same individuals who supported the right to overthrow oppressive governments also suppressed Shays’ Rebellion and slave uprisings.

The Declaration’s revolutionary ideas could not be fully put into practice within bourgeois society. Its focus on universal principles extended beyond capitalism itself. This is why the Declaration served as the ideological basis for the Civil War—the second American revolution—and why its principles are still not fully realised today.

The Declaration’s ideological roots are in the bourgeois revolution, but its future is with the working class. As the Socialist Equality Party states, the true successors of 1776 are not the representatives of the American ruling class, but the workers and youth fighting against inequality, war, and the erosion of democratic rights. The Declaration remains vital—not merely as a historical artefact, but as a revolutionary document that demands a socialist transformation of society.

The Ideological Function of Gordon Wood in American Historiography

Gordon S. Wood holds a unique place in American historical scholarship. He is both the most renowned interpreter of the American Revolution and a key defender of bourgeois ideological continuity. His introduction to Edward L. Widmer’s The Living Declaration exemplifies this duality. Wood describes the Declaration of Independence as the “most profound manifesto of democratic revolution in history," but his framing diminishes its revolutionary significance for today.

Wood’s prose is refined and erudite, yet his approach remains largely conservative. He presents the Declaration as a victory of enlightened thought, deliberately sidestepping the societal contradictions that led to it and the volatile implications of its principles for modern capitalism. His introduction doesn’t advocate for revolutionary change but instead honours a heritage that has been safely preserved.

Wood’s opening highlights that the United States is “unique because it was founded entirely on a set of philosophical ideas rather than shared heritage or ethnicity.” This reflects Wood’s overall historiographical approach: emphasising ideology over material conditions and portraying the Revolution as a victory of enlightened ideas rather than as a struggle rooted in class, colonial economics, or imperial crises.

The issue isn't that ideas had no role—they did. Instead, Wood overlooks how social forces shaped these ideas. He views the Declaration as a result of philosophical agreement, not a revolutionary break. That's why Wood claims Jefferson’s statement that “all men are created equal” reflected the mainstream enlightened thought of the time. But this is historically questionable and politically telling. Equality wasn't just a conventional idea; it challenged the entire hierarchical order dominated by monarchy, aristocracy, and hereditary privilege. Wood’s approach trivialises the Revolution by framing its most radical principle as a polite, common belief.

Wood emphasises Jefferson’s belief in a universal “moral sense,” even among enslaved people, implying that this shared empathy helped shape abolitionist arguments. This reflects Wood's typical approach: a moral-philosophical interpretation that conceals the harsh material realities of slavery and the economic motives behind it. Jefferson’s moral sense did not stop him from enslaving people, nor did it prevent the new republic from establishing a constitutional framework that protected slave property for nearly a century. Wood’s reference to moral sense acts as a liberal justification—an effort to reconcile the universal ideals in the Declaration with the founders’ active participation in a slaveholding society.

A Marxist analysis begins from the opposite premise: the contradiction between universal equality and private property in human beings is not a moral paradox but a structural contradiction of bourgeois revolution. Wood cannot confront this because his method is idealistic rather than materialistic.

Wood’s introduction notably omits key points. He does not mention the Declaration’s claim that people can “alter or abolish” governments that threaten their rights. Additionally, he overlooks the relevance of this principle during the Civil War, which Lincoln viewed as the embodiment of the Declaration’s revolutionary ideas. Moreover, he neglects to consider how this principle applies in a society controlled by a financial oligarchy.

Wood’s introduction celebrates the ideals of the Declaration rather than analysing their outcomes. He commends the Revolution’s opposition to aristocracy but overlooks the rise of a new wealthy aristocracy. While praising equality, he ignores the significant inequality present in modern America. This is intentional, as Wood’s purpose in American historiography is to uphold the established order by framing the founding as a completed, accomplished event rather than an ongoing revolutionary process.

The Political Context: Wood vs the 1619 Project, and the Limits of Liberal Defence

Wood has been a notable critic of the New York Times’ 1619 Project, rightly pointing it out as a racialist distortion of history. However, his critique is constrained by his ideological biases. While he defends the Revolution against racial reductionism, he does so from a liberal perspective that fails to recognise the class struggles inherent in the Revolution or the enduring importance of its principles.The WSWS has shown that rejecting 1776 as a pro-slavery conspiracy, as the 1619 Project does, is both historically inaccurate and politically reactionary.However, Wood’s alternative—an idealist praise of enlightened ideas—falls short.It defends the founders but weakens the Declaration's revolutionary significance.

Wood criticises the racialist distortion of history but fails to challenge the capitalist distortion. His introduction overlooks that today's ruling class openly disregards every right listed in the Declaration. He is unable to admit that the Declaration’s revolutionary ideals condemn the social order he aims to maintain.

The Declaration as a Living Document: Wood’s Title, Widmer’s Book, and the Marxist Alternative

Wood agrees with Widmer’s idea of a “living declaration,” but he sees “living” as more conservative. To Wood, it’s alive because it continues to inspire civic pride and a sense of democracy. Widmer, however, believes it remains alive because each new generation has reinterpreted it. In contrast, Marxists see the Declaration as alive because its ideals remain unfulfilled, and achieving them would require a revolutionary societal change.

The Declaration remains alive not due to admiration but because it continues to reveal the contradictions within capitalist society. It stays relevant by affirming equality in a world marked by inequality and by declaring the right to revolution against oligarchic rule. Wood, however, cannot recognise this. His introduction romanticises the Declaration with reverent language while diminishing its revolutionary power.

Gordon Wood’s introduction to The Living Declaration is a refined, knowledgeable and ultimately conservative piece. It extols the ideals of the Declaration while toning down their implications. It defends the Revolution from racialist distortions yet sidesteps the class conflicts that influenced it. While praising equality, it overlooks the capitalist system that makes such equality unachievable. Overall, Wood’s introduction is not a genuine living declaration but a sanitised version that serves the interests of the ruling class.

Widmer’s Method: Liberal Antiquarianism in the Service of the Present Order

Widmer’s “biography” approach exemplifies the heritage industry in American historiography, as the WSWS frequently criticises. Instead of placing the Declaration within the ongoing dialectical evolution of bourgeois revolution, Widmer regards it as a cultural artefact whose “life” is shaped by how it has been received, reinterpreted, and symbolically employed over time.

This approach yields three distinct effects: First, the Revolution becomes depoliticised, as Widmer emphasises anecdotes, personalities, and textual idiosyncrasies, while minimising the Declaration’s significance as the ideological source of significant social change. Second, the contradictions of the Revolution are viewed through a psychological lens, transforming questions about class tensions, property rights, and slavery into moral or personal dilemmas rather than material disputes. Third, the current situation is presented as natural.

The Declaration as Revolutionary Manifesto: What Widmer Cannot Confront

Widmer’s account cannot encompass the Declaration’s most radical claim: “That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it…”

This is not just a decorative element; it forms the heart of the document. As David North stated, the principles of the Declaration "were obtained through the application of scientific thought, i.e., Reason,” and their revolutionary power remains because they express universal, not just colonial, claims.

Widmer’s biography treats this passage as a historical footnote rather than an active critique of today’s capitalist oligarchy that rules the United States. He fails to recognise that the Declaration’s underlying logic extends beyond bourgeois society itself—suggesting that the promise of equality conflicts with a social system in which a few billionaires possess more wealth than the entire bottom half of humanity. Addressing this would mean acknowledging the Declaration’s role in the Civil War—the so-called "second American revolution”—and its ongoing significance to modern working-class struggles. Yet, Widmer completely sidesteps this connection.

Widmer’s book comes at a time when the Declaration faces fierce political debate. Two main forces drive this contest: The New York Times’ 1619 Project criticises the Declaration as a hypocritical document meant to defend slavery. As the WSWS has shown, this view is both historically inaccurate and politically reactionary. It ignores the revolutionary significance of 1776 and reduces the American Revolution to a racial myth. Widmer does not oppose this false narrative; instead, it sidesteps it.

The ruling elite claims the Declaration as a patriotic symbol while simultaneously ignoring every right it guarantees. Patrick Martin pointed out that “Every basic right enumerated in it is openly flouted.” The right to revolution is dismissed as sedition, extreme inequalities undermine equality, and due process is compromised through widespread surveillance and militarised policing. Widmer does not challenge this contradiction; instead, he aestheticises it. In both instances, Widmer’s silence aligns with the ideological interests of the current order. His biography does not defend the revolutionary ideals of the Declaration but rather contributes to their neutralisation.

Bourgeois Scholarship and the Neutralisation of Revolution

Widmer’s book highlights the wider limitations of bourgeois historiography. It lauds the Declaration as an element of America’s “heritage" but neglects its revolutionary core. This aligns with James P. Cannon’s warning: “Nobody can sell me the Fourth of July speeches which represent the start as the finish and the promise as the fulfilment.” Widmer’s biography resembles a Fourth of July speech in book form, presenting the Declaration as a finished accomplishment instead of an ongoing revolutionary effort.

A truly critical biography of the Declaration would place it in the context of the global crisis of the ancien régime and the emergence of bourgeois revolution. It would examine its Enlightenment roots—drawing from Locke, Scottish moral philosophers, and 18th-century scientific rationalism. It would reveal contradictions in its founding, such as slavery, property relations, and class conflicts. The biography would track its lasting revolutionary influence, particularly in the Civil War and abolition movements. It would also show its incompatibility with modern capitalism, where equality cannot exist under private ownership of the means of production. The biography would highlight the working class as the agent capable of realising its promise. However, Widmer's biography does none of these; it is not a living Declaration but an embalmed one.

Conclusion: The Declaration Lives—But Not in Widmer’s Book

Widmer’s The Living Declaration is a refined, accessible, and ultimately conservative account. It provides a biography of the Declaration that is suitable for corporate publishers, university lectures, and Fourth of July celebrations. It avoids addressing the Declaration’s revolutionary potential today or recognising the social forces that could bring its promises to fruition. The Declaration endures—though not within Widmer’s family-friendly narrative. It persists in the working class's struggles against inequality, war, and the erosion of democratic rights. Its principles serve as a critique of tyranny and a rallying cry for revolutionary change. Widmer’s book is a biography; the working class will author the sequel.

 

 

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.

 

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."

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 régime’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

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.