Comment fron C Thompson

Ann Talbot has misled you. Luddism was a phenomenon of the late stages of the war against Napoleonic France, which ended in 1815. Chartism and opposition to the new Poor Law came after the Great Reform Act of 1832. The People's Charter was published in 1837 and Chartism itself lasted until c.1850. The New Poor Law creating Unions of parishes was passed in 1834.

 

Aeron Davis and the Myth of the “Responsible Establishment”: The Crisis of Capitalism and the Rise of the Reckless Opportunists

In 'Reckless Opportunists: Elites at the End of the Establishment,' sociologist Aeron Davis explores how Britain’s ruling classes have evolved in recent decades. He contends that the old “establishment”—comprising figures once expected to lead with long-term vision and responsibility—has been replaced by a new type of short-term, self-serving careerists who exploit the institutions they are supposed to uphold. According to Davis, today's elites are “reckless opportunists,” motivated more by immediate gains like bonuses, elections, or quarterly results than by strategic considerations.

Davis’s book offers valuable empirical insights. However, its framework is limited to the narrow scope of bourgeois sociology. He highlights signs of capitalist decline but avoids analysing the underlying causes. Consequently, it provides a detailed portrait of elite behaviour that is accurate but politically ineffective, as it cannot explain the reasons behind the transformation or its significance.

Two critiques of Davis highlight a core limitation: “What Davis sees as a cultural or psychological change… is actually due to capitalism's decline.” “The ‘reckless opportunism’ Davis notes isn’t a moral flaw of elites; it’s the natural outcome of a ruling class in a system that has run out of its historical potential.” These aren’t just rhetorical devices. They reveal a fundamental truth Davis cannot face: the decline of the ruling class is intertwined with the collapse of the capitalist system.

Grenfell, the 2008 crash, Epstein: Case studies in elite criminality

The World Socialist Web Site has long documented the criminality, parasitism, and social indifference of the ruling class. The Grenfell Tower fire exemplifies this, as in London's wealthiest borough, officials covered a working-class housing block in flammable cladding to save £300,000 for a gentrification project. Seventy-two people lost their lives in the blaze, yet no one has faced accountability.

The 2008 financial crash marked another significant turning point. Historian Adam Tooze described it as driven by a “tightly-knit corporate oligarchy” engaged in widespread fraud and risky speculation, which led to the collapse of the global economy. This crisis prompted trillions in public bailouts, while millions lost homes and jobs, yet bankers retained their bonuses. The Jeffrey Epstein case further revealed a ruling class characterised by predation and immunity. Leaders from various sectors—heads of state, billionaires, academics, and royalty—moved within Epstein’s circle, confident their crimes would go unpunished. These incidents are not anomalies but reflect the normal functioning of a ruling class that no longer even pretends to serve the broader public interest.

The historical roots of elite degeneration

Davis’s main fault is his longing for a supposedly “responsible” post-war establishment. However, that establishment wasn't the result of superior moral strength. It arose from a specific historical context: the post-war economic growth, the Bretton Woods system providing stability, and the existence of the Soviet Union, which forced concessions to workers. In this environment, the ruling class was able to plan long-term. Capitalism was growing; reforms were possible; and social compromise had solid roots. That time has passed.

Since the end of Bretton Woods in 1971, the dissolution of the USSR in 1991, and a sustained decline in profit rates, a global capitalist system has emerged marked by ongoing crises, perpetual warfare, and unchecked financial capital dominance. In this environment, the bourgeoisie is unable to govern responsibly, even if it wanted to, because its outlook is limited by systemic contradictions that leave it no viable options. Davis's term “reckless opportunism” should not be seen as cultural decay but rather as the political superstructure's response to economic disintegration.

Davis’s implicit proposal—a return to responsible elites—remains a reactionary illusion. The post-war elite system cannot be revived because the historical circumstances that created it no longer apply. Modern capitalism is incapable of providing reforms, stability, or sustainable governance; instead, it offers austerity, militarism, and authoritarian rule. The fundamental issue with elite conduct reflects the broader crisis of capitalism itself.

The socialist alternative

The working class cannot rely on better elites or more enlightened administrators. The institutions Davis criticises—corporations, universities, government departments, political parties—are not simply mismanaged; they are being systematically looted, as capitalism requires.

The goal is not to judge elite conduct but to eliminate the class system that fosters it. The working class must seize state control, expropriate the financial oligarchy, and rebuild society based on socialist principles. Only through the deliberate action of the international working class can humanity avoid the devastating effects of capitalist decline. The choice is not between a "responsible establishment” and “reckless opportunists," but between socialism and barbarism.

 

The Disappearance of the Masses: Danton’s Death and the Post Soviet Retreat from History

The 2010 National Theatre adaptation of Georg Büchner’s Danton’s Death, adapted by Howard Brenton and directed by Michael Grandage, serves as a revealing cultural artifact of its era. Expertly staged, well-acted, and carefully lit, it also exposes a significant ideological flaw: the failure of modern bourgeois theatre to see the masses as active historical participants. By removing two brief crowd scenes—which may seem trivial—the production loses the social force central to Büchner’s work. What’s left is a superficial psychological conflict between two isolated individuals, devoid of historical context and revolutionary significance.

This issue goes beyond dramaturgy; it signals a deeper cultural decline in the post-Soviet era, where revolution is seen as pointless, history becomes psychological, and the working class is excluded from the narrative of human liberation.

The Crowd as Protagonist

Ann Talbot’s review accurately points out a significant mistake. Brenton's removal of two very brief crowd scenes, which are so short that their exclusion cannot be justified by pacing, leads to serious issues. Talbot explains, “It eliminates a character that is essential to the conflict between Danton and Robespierre — not a single character, but the collective crowd of many individuals.” The crowd is not just background; it functions as the third main character in the play. Without it, Danton appears as a dull, exhausted figure who “simply cannot be bothered to defend himself,” and Robespierre becomes “a dogmatic man with a prissy concern for morality.” Their historical significance diminishes because the social forces they symbolize are no longer represented on stage.

Büchner instinctively and materially recognized that the French Revolution was driven by mass action rather than individual leaders. Danton’s influence came from his bond with the sans-culottes, while Robespierre’s authority depended on his capacity to express their needs. When the crowd is absent, the rivalry between these two figures loses meaning, transforming from a clash of revolutionary factions into a personal dispute between two anxious individuals. This situation does not describe Büchner but rather Brenton.

The Collapse of Büchner’s Dialectic

The distortion goes beyond political characterisation. It undermines the dialectical connection between public and private life that Büchner vividly depicts with scientific accuracy. Take Marion’s monologue on her sexuality. Alone, it might seem misogynistic, as if Büchner intended to show women as manipulative and self-serving. However, when contrasted with the absent crowd scene—“It’s her hunger that whores and begs. A knife for the people who buy the flesh of our wives and daughters.”

The meaning becomes evident: Marion’s emotional numbness isn’t a personal flaw but a societal outcome. The commodification of bodies in an unequal society erodes authentic intimacy. The decline of private relationships is intrinsically linked to the nature of public social interactions. Remove the crowd, and this entire dialectic falls apart. Marion turns into a stereotype; her social context vanishes. The play’s materialist critique is replaced by moralism. Büchner’s approach—"an autopsy of the French Revolution," literally on his dissection table—relies on the presence of every social organ. As the text states: "The method only works if all the parts are present." Brenton has taken out the heart.

The Post‑Soviet Intelligentsia and the Ideology of Futility

Why does such a cut exist? Why remove the masses from history? The reason isn't rooted in Büchner, but in today's intellectual climate. It has become very challenging for writers to envision revolution except in catastrophic terms. Since the USSR's fall, Western intellectuals have experienced a significant political decline. The fall of Stalinist regimes—often wrongly linked with socialism—did not lead to renewed revolutionary ideas but instead fostered widespread disillusionment. The working class was dismissed as outdated; history was said to have come to an end; and the concept of collective political action was increasingly viewed with suspicion.

Brenton, once regarded as a left‑wing playwright, has not escaped this ideological tide. His adaptation presents the French Revolution as a tragic inevitability: factionalism, bloodshed, futility. Revolution becomes pathology. The masses become dangerous or irrelevant. The historical process is reduced to a morality play in which idealists destroy one another. This is not a neutral artistic choice. It is the ideological function of contemporary bourgeois culture: to portray revolution as hopeless, to sever the connection between past struggles and present conditions, and to render the working class invisible.

Removing the crowd scenes serves as the mechanism to realize this ideological project. Once the masses are gone, history shifts into psychology. Danton and Robespierre are no longer seen as representatives of social forces but as isolated individuals caught in private conflicts. Their actions seem unnecessary; their motivations become unclear; their tragedies appear insignificant. This focus on psychology is typical of post-Soviet cultural works, which reflect a worldview where collective action is unthinkable and political struggles are reduced to personal issues. The Revolution then becomes a moral lesson rather than a historical event, emphasizing lessons of morality over material consequences.

Büchner’s play differs by focusing on social forces rather than individual personalities. It examines a historical deadlock instead of lamenting human weakness. Turning it into a psychological drama would distort its true meaning. Contrast Brenton’s approach with Trevor Griffiths’s A New World: A Life of Thomas Paine, which shows that the American and French Revolutions can still be vividly reimagined and linked to current class issues. Griffiths views revolution not as a disease but as a dynamic, ongoing historical process. He brings the masses back into focus, recognising that history is shaped by collective action.

Brenton’s adaptation, in contrast, highlights the futility of the revolutionary effort—both in the 18th century and today. It is a bleak, post-Soviet piece that strips Büchner’s drama of its revolutionary significance, resulting in a spectacle that lacks historical meaning.

The absence of the crowd in *Danton’s Death* symbolizes a larger cultural trend: the marginalization of the working class from historical awareness. In theatre, film, literature, and politics, masses have been replaced by individuals, identity groups, and psychological archetypes. History has been depoliticized, revolution pathologized, and the future closed off. Reviving Büchner’s play means bringing the masses back to the stage—acknowledging that history is created through collective struggle rather than by isolated figures. It also involves rejecting the futility ideology and recognizing the potential for revolutionary change. The crowd isn’t a minor detail; it is the fabric of history.