Thursday, 29 November 2012

Comrade Jacob and the Class Limits of the English Revolution: A Marxist Reappraisal


Introduction: A Lost Alternative and Its Historical Moment

Over three and a half centuries after a small group of dispossessed people started digging on common land at St George’s Hill, the questions their actions raised—about the origins of property, the meaning of freedom in a market economy, and who has the right to the land—remain unanswered. David Caute’s "Comrade Jacob," first published in 1961 and reissued in 1973, revisits this event not as a historical curiosity but as a serious exploration of one of the truly radical perspectives from the English Revolution: the Diggers, led by Gerrard Winstanley.

Caute wrote the novel during a specific political period. The crisis within the Communist Party following the Soviet-led suppression of the Hungarian uprising in 1956 led a new generation of intellectuals to explore fresh perspectives on radicalism, dissent, and the betrayal of revolutionary ideals. Influenced by his years at Oxford studying with Christopher Hill, Caute turned to the seventeenth century not as an escape from current issues but to analyse them. Therefore, Comrade Jacob is not a nostalgic costume drama but a political novel in a historical context — an exploration of how poor movements emerge, are suppressed, and how religious beliefs and social revolts are connected.

Caute’s novel effectively portrays the importance of the revolution. However, its limitations, along with those of the historiographical tradition it draws from, reveal essential aspects of the class character of the English Revolution and the role of the Diggers in history. Comprehending Caute’s work is crucial for understanding the revolution's boundaries.

The Diggers as Pre‑Proletarian Communists

Caute’s novel and most sympathetic portrayals of the Diggers highlight that they “had no coherent programme for transforming society and never contemplated overturning it by force.” While accurate, the more profound question is why. The answer is rooted not in psychology but in class background. The Diggers originated from dispossessed small producers, rural workers, demobilised soldiers, cottagers, and artisans squeezed by agrarian capitalism. They were not, in the modern sense, proletarians. The industrial working class—the social force capable of abolishing private property in the means of production—had not yet formed. As a result, the Diggers exemplify a form of pre-proletarian communism: a utopian ideal born of hardship but lacking the social power to realise its goals.

Engels’ distinction in "Socialism: Utopian and Scientific" is crucial here. Utopian socialists could highlight societal flaws and envision a better future, but they could not identify the class that could realise it. Winstanley fits this tradition. His idea of a “common treasury for all” was morally compelling and historically necessary, yet it was not achievable in the 1640s. This isn't a moral critique but a historical-materialist one. The tragedy of St George’s Hill isn't that Winstanley was prematurely Lenin; it's that the Diggers represented hopes extending beyond the bourgeois revolution, which was the only revolution on the table in the 1640s. Their defeat was rooted in the revolution's class structure.

Christopher Hill, Caute, and the Stalinist “People’s History” Tradition

Caute’s novel is deeply rooted in the historiographical tradition that influenced it. Christopher Hill’s significant contribution—defining the English Revolution as a bourgeois revolution—was groundbreaking. However, Hill’s work also reflected the constraints of the Stalinist “People’s History” tradition, such as prioritising a national over an international perspective, romanticising religious sects, viewing history through a Popular Front lens that grouped rebels into a continuous “radical tradition", and lacking a thorough analysis of the rational, scientific, and materialist aspects of the revolution.

Caute inherits these strengths and weaknesses. His structural device — alternating Winstanley’s first-person voice with a detached authorial perspective — is a genuine literary achievement. But the framework remains essentially national. The English Revolution was not a self-contained eruption of English radicalism. It was part of a continental crisis stretching from the Thirty Years’ War to the Fronde. The ideological currents coursing through it — natural rights theory, anti-monarchical republicanism, radical scriptural hermeneutics — were European phenomena. A novel that situated the Diggers more fully in this international context would have captured something essential about the revolution’s character.

The Diggers and the Pseudo‑Left: Two Movements Without a Revolutionary Class

The Diggers of 1649 and today’s pseudo-left seem vastly different at first. One excavated the commons in Surrey; the other engages in ideological battles on social media. However, both reveal the same underlying issue: a social group expressing aspirations they cannot fulfil due to a lack of class power. The Diggers were not proletarians but dispossessed small producers, rural workers, and demobilised soldiers—victims of primitive accumulation rather than architects of a new social order. Their genuine, even heroic, communism was rooted in pre-proletarian conditions. They envisioned a “common treasury for all" but lacked the class consciousness and power to realise it.

Their strategy relied on moral appeal, scriptural argument, and the hope that Cromwell would complete the revolution for them. However, the English Revolution was fundamentally a bourgeois revolution, and Cromwell was its most consistent figure. While he could overthrow the monarchy, he couldn't eliminate private property. The Diggers were defeated not due to their errors but because they were ahead of their time.

The Pseudo‑Left: Moralism Without Class

The pseudo‑left is the modern equivalent of this limitation — not in content, but in structure. It is the politics of a middle‑class layer: academics, NGO professionals, media workers, identity‑politics entrepreneurs. Economically insecure, politically anxious, socially dependent on the existing order, it cannot imagine working‑class power and therefore retreats into moralism, identity, and therapeutic self‑expression.

Where the Diggers referenced scripture, the pseudo-left relies on privilege, representation, "harm," and symbolic gestures. Both favour appealing to authority over empowering the working class. The Diggers looked to Cromwell; the pseudo-left turns to HR departments, university officials, NGOs, and social media. Both seek protection from above instead of driving change from below.

The pseudo-left serves capitalism by fragmenting workers, replacing class analysis with moral accusations, substituting symbolic politics for real material struggle, and channelling anger into safe, state-controlled avenues. It is not a revolutionary force but an ideological containment mechanism—radical in rhetoric but conservative in effect.

What Caute Leaves Out

Caute briefly mentions the Putney Debates and the Presbyterian–Independent split, but these are more than mere omissions. They are pivotal points in the entire revolutionary process. In 1647 at Putney, the Levellers challenged the Army leaders over the franchise, marking a crucial moment when the bourgeois revolution set its boundaries. This debate was not theoretical; it reflected the recognition that extending political rights to the propertyless would threaten the foundations of the emerging capitalist order. Putney becomes the setting where the revolution defined its limits.

The dividing line in politics between Presbyterians and Independents was clear and impactful. Local Presbyterian gentry primarily led the effort to displace the Diggers from St George’s Hill. Fairfax, on behalf of the Independents, was hesitant to use force against them and did not actively defend them either. This was not simply a struggle between the poor and the wealthy. Instead, it was a conflict rooted in a revolution itself, split over the extent of social change desired.

Cromwell’s Role

Cromwell did not betray the revolution; he embodied its core principles. His suppression of the Levellers and disregard for the Diggers were not mistakes but acts of the revolution firming up its class limits. Trotsky’s observation in Where Is Britain Going? is crucial: the bourgeois revolution could topple the feudal monarchy but could not eliminate private land ownership. The Diggers aimed for goals beyond the revolution’s main objective. Their defeat was thus inevitable, not accidental.

Caute’s refusal to secularise Winstanley is one of the novel’s strengths. The film adaptation flattened Winstanley into a socialist-realist tribune, stripping away the mysticism, torment, and scriptural intensity inseparable from his politics.

This matters. The religious form was not a veil behind which a secular class consciousness was hiding. It was the ideological medium available to people of that class in that period. As Ann Talbot observed in her appraisal of Hill, the ideologues of the English Revolution “ransacked the Bible and half understood historical precedent for some kind of theory to explain what they were doing.”

But the religious form was also a limit. Millenarian Christianity could inspire the poor to dig the commons, but it could not provide a scientific analysis of class forces or a strategy for confronting state power. Winstanley’s appeals to Cromwell — “we are your brothers” — were not tactical manoeuvres. They were the strategy. They could not succeed.

Primitive Accumulation and Contemporary Resonance

Today, St George’s Hill stands as one of England’s most costly and heavily protected residential areas. While this fact appears ironic, it reflects a deeper historical continuity. Winstanley linked the origin of property to the “Norman yoke,” whereas Marx associated it with primitive accumulation. Both recognised that property isn’t an inherent right but a product of historical force and dispossession. The violent removal of the majority from the land isn’t a flaw of capitalism; it’s its very foundation. The housing crisis, land financialization, and the exclusion of the poor from cities aren’t anomalies but parts of a systemic process rooted in dispossession. The Diggers could dig the commons, but they couldn’t lay the foundations of capitalism, which were only beginning to be established. Today, we live after that process. The challenge is greater, but so is the social power we can harness to meet it.

The Unfinished Question

Comrade Jacob is not a perfect history book, but it genuinely helps by portraying the Diggers as real historical figures rather than romanticised forerunners. An even better book would explore their questions sincerely and delve into why they couldn’t find answers. That book still needs to be written. However, the question the Diggers raised — who has the right to land? — remains as pressing today as it was in 1649. It can't be resolved within capitalism's limits and requires a different class, a different revolution, and a new historical basis.

Sources and Bibliography

Primary and Seventeenth‑Century Sources

  • Gerrard Winstanley, The Law of Freedom and Other Writings, ed. Christopher Hill (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1973).
  • Gerrard Winstanley, Selections from His Works, ed. Leonard Hamilton, introduction by Christopher Hill (London: 1944).
  • The Clarke Papers, ed. C.H. Firth — essential for the Putney Debates.
  • The Acts and Ordinances of the Interregnum, 1642–1660 — for state policy toward radicals.

Modern Scholarship on the Diggers

  • John Gurney, Brave Community: The Digger Movement in the English Revolution (Manchester University Press, 2007). The most comprehensive modern study of the Diggers; covers St George’s Hill, Cobham, Iver, Wellingborough, and the wider political context.
  • John Gurney, Gerrard Winstanley: The Digger’s Life and Legacy (London, 2013). Important for understanding the modern reception and appropriation of Winstanley.
  • Christopher Hill, The World Turned Upside Down: Radical Ideas During the English Revolution (London: Penguin, 1972). Classic Marxist treatment of sectarian radicalism; foundational but shaped by the “People’s History” tradition.
  • Christopher Hill, The Religion of Gerrard Winstanley (Past & Present Supplement No. 5, 1978). Key text on Winstanley’s millenarianism.

Marxist Historiography and Theory

These works underpin the essay’s analysis of class limits, bourgeois revolution, and pre‑proletarian communism:

  • Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I — chapters on primitive accumulation.
  • Karl Marx, The German Ideology — on class, ideology, and historical development.
  • Friedrich Engels, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific — essential for situating Winstanley as a pre‑scientific communist.
  • Leon Trotsky, Where Is Britain Going? — the clearest Marxist analysis of Cromwell and the class character of the English Revolution.
  • Leon Trotsky, History of the Russian Revolution — methodological model for analysing class forces and revolutionary limits.

On the Pseudo‑Left and Contemporary Politics

These works provide the theoretical grounding for the second half of the essay:

  • David North, The Frankfurt School, Postmodernism and the Politics of the Pseudo‑Left (Mehring Books, 2015). The most systematic Marxist critique of identity politics and middle‑class radicalism.
  • Chris Marsden & David North, The Heritage We Defend (Mehring Books, 1988). Essential for understanding the degeneration of Stalinism and the emergence of pseudo‑left tendencies.
  • Ann Talbot, “Christopher Hill and the English Revolution,” World Socialist Web Site (2003). A sharp critique of Hill’s national‑popular framework and its political limitations.

Additional Contextual Works

  • Brian Manning, The English People and the English Revolution (1976). Strong on class structure and popular radicalism.
  • Austin Woolrych, Britain in Revolution, 1625–1660 (Oxford University Press, 2002). For broader political context.
  • Michael Braddick, God’s Fury, England’s Fire (Allen Lane, 2008). A modern scholarly synthesis of the revolution.

Film and Cultural Reception

  • Kevin Brownlow & Andrew Mollo, Winstanley (1975). Important for understanding the secularising distortion of Winstanley’s religious radicalism.

 

Tuesday, 13 November 2012

55 Days by Howard Brenton – Nick Hern Books 2012



"We are not just trying a tyrant, we are inventing a country."    
  
Howard Brenton's short play deals with the 55-day military coup in the mid-1600s when Oliver Cromwell's army took control of Parliament and moved to put King Charles Ist on trial for treason. The book works on many levels. While just shy of one hundred pages, it nonetheless is a substantial historical work.

Brenton is correct to centre the play on the relationship between Charles I and Cromwell. Brenton's heavy emphasis on the struggle of Cromwell to reach an agreement with the King is, to a certain extent accurate but Brenton takes a few liberties with the historical record.

Some reviews have correctly picked up on the point that Brenton uses the past to analyse the present.  Like a Bertolt Brecht play, it does shows the conflict between theory and action, as individuals and parties debate the future of the sovereignty of Parliament. As Michael Billington says "the real pleasure lies in seeing a pivotal moment in English history presented with such fervent dramatic power."[1]

The book like the play itself is demanding, and it is advisable to have at least a working knowledge of the English revolution in order not only to understand but enjoy the play. As one critic put it "if you do a bit of homework first, this is an evening that grips."

The play is historically accurate and correctly portrays the differences that existed over the judicial murder of a king. Brenton is clear on the point that the killing of the King was a necessary step by the bourgeoisie to clear the way for its rule and establish a parliamentary democracy.

It is clear from the reviews of the play that the historical controversy surrounding the English revolution still generates heat even today. One reviewer described Cromwell as a "thundering hypocrite who claims to be an instrument of God's will, while craftily packing the commissioners who will pass sentence on the King with yes-men. Charles I, in contrast, is at least consistent in his belief that he is divinely appointed."

The play has certain objectivity in that Brenton makes us see two sides of the war. Brenton's inclusion of the Levellers in the form of their leader John Lillburne is a bit of a surprise until you have a look at Brenton's radical sympathies. Brenton is not averse to collaborating with modern radicals such as Tariq Ali. Brenton's collaboration with a political scoundrel of the calibre of Ali was not one of his best decisions. Not surprisingly Brenton was heavily attacked by right-wing sections of the media as Janelle Reinelt relates that "in the late 1990s, Brenton endured a drubbing in the British press from which he is only now emerging.

It seems that taking on the new Labour government early in its first term was considered to be in bad taste, and satire, an ancient genre of dramatic writing that Brenton had earlier successfully mixed in with more "serious" dramas, was now considered terrible writing. Brenton formed a group called Stigma with longtime friends and collaborators Tariq Ali and Andy de la Tour to shake up the British electorate by making them laugh at the expense of the newly triumphant New Labourites. Ugly Rumors (1998), the first of three plays over three years attempted by Stigma, drew savage criticism from the press. Even Michael Billington, the Guardian critic whose left-leaning views and intelligent theatrical judgment usually serve as a reliable bell-weather wrote, "you feel it is still too early to accuse the Government of some kind of grand betrayal".[2]

The inclusion of the Levellers is a brave move given current historical revisionism's hostility to the Levellers being included in the historical drama that was the English revolution. One minor criticism of the play is that Brenton could have developed Lilburnes opposition to the regicide.

The play at the Hampstead Theatre has come into criticism for the use of modern dress. Charles is suited with a Vandyke collar and cane, yet others like Cromwell are dressed like something out of the 1940s. Some critics have said this is to emphasise the middle-class nature of the revolt. I am sure that if current historians had reviewed the book and play. I feel a different interpretation would be forthcoming.

Perhaps the most important and historically significant part of the play is the meeting of the two main protagonists Cromwell and the King.  The scene is invented as the two did not meet during the trial. Although they did meet once, before the Civil War.  Cromwell was in a Parliamentary group that went to Charles with a petition.

I am not against a counterfactual argument or the use of an artistic license. Friedrich Schiller, used it to tremendous effect when he invented a meeting between Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots, Brenton adds a fictional scene in which Cromwell desperately tries to persuade Charles Ist to save his life.[3]

The problem I have is that Brenton portrays his characters too much as individuals and not really in the context of the time. While it is true that Cromwell may have wanted a compromise with the King at an earlier time, there were larger objective forces that were moving Cromwell at this time. Cromwell was enough of a politician to know that at that moment to move against the army, which was the most radical force in the country would have been suicidal. The army was far to the left of the Levellers who at that stage were the revolutions left wing.

To conclude, there is no doubt that Brenton is a gifted writer and director. His 55 days is well worth going to see. Brenton has a significant grasp of history. His play as one writer puts it "provides an insight into the pivotal, tumultuous historical background to the drama, and the men who embodied it.

Brenton said "recently I met a Frenchman in London and we fell to talking about the high drama of the climax of the French Revolution: the struggle between Danton and Robespierre. 'In this country, you don't remember you also had a revolution,' he said, adding, rather waspishly, 'and you don't realise you still live with the consequences'.[4]

It is true, the modern-day English bourgeoisie does not like to be reminded of its revolutionary history. The same goes for some historians who go as far as to deny a revolution took place. It is good that people like Brenton reminds them and us of this revolutionary past.




[1] https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2012/oct/25/55-days-review
[2] The "Rehabilitation" of Howard Brenton- Janelle Reinelt Source: TDR (1988-), Vol. 51, No. 3 (Fall, 2007), pp. 167-174
[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Stuart_(play)
[4] Howard Brenton: A forgotten revolution – the historical context to 55 Dayshttp://nickhernbooksblog.com/2012/10/25/howard-brenton-a-forgotten-revolution-the-historical-context-to-55-days/

Friday, 2 November 2012

The Impact of the English Civil Wars — A Marxist Critique of the Revisionist Counter Revolution in Historiography

Introduction

The historiographical struggle over the English Civil War has never been a mere academic quarrel. It is a battle over the meaning of revolution itself. J.S. Morrill’s The Impact of the English Civil Wars (1991) stands as a defining statement of the revisionist school that, from the 1970s onward, sought to dismantle the Marxist interpretation forged by Christopher Hill and the Communist Party Historians’ Group. The revisionists rejected the English Revolution as a bourgeois revolution, denied the existence of a rising bourgeoisie, and insisted that the conflict was driven not by social transformation but by religious sensibilities and constitutional misunderstandings. Morrill and his allies “set out to demolish this framework,” replacing class analysis with a focus on “short-term political accidents” and local particularities that fragment the national narrative.¹

This historiographical turn did not arise in a vacuum. It coincided with the international shift to the right: the defeats of the working class, the collapse of the post-war consensus, the rise of Thatcher and Reagan, and the deepening crisis of Stalinism. In this climate, an academic orthodoxy emerged that denied the revolutionary character of the seventeenth century and, by implication, the possibility of revolutionary change in the present. The new orthodoxy insisted “there was no bourgeois revolution because there was no rising bourgeoisie,” a position that functioned to teach that “mass movements cannot fundamentally alter the social order.”² Morrill’s volume must therefore be understood not simply as a scholarly intervention but as a contribution to the intellectual counter‑revolution of the late twentieth century.

The Revisionist Project: Methodological Fragmentation as Ideology

The Marxist interpretation, developed most powerfully by Christopher Hill and the Communist Party Historians’ Group, located the English Civil War within the world‑historical process of bourgeois revolution. It understood the conflict as the overthrow of a feudal‑absolutist state by social forces aligned with emergent capitalist relations. Morrill and his revisionist colleagues—Conrad Russell, Kevin Sharpe, and others—explicitly set out to dismantle this framework. They denied “there was a rising bourgeoisie,” insisted that “people of all social classes fought on both sides,” and rejected the very notion of a revolution, portraying the conflict instead as a “contingent breakdown of the constitution that got out of hand.”³

This methodological shift was not innocent. The revisionists replaced structural analysis with short‑term political accidents, substituted national dynamics with micro‑studies of localities, and elevated religious discourse to an autonomous causal force. In doing so, they evacuated the conflict of its social content. The result was an historiography that dissolved the English Revolution into a series of disconnected episodes, stripped of class dynamics and historical necessity.

The Political Context: Revisionism and the Neoliberal Turn

The ascendancy of revisionism in the 1970s and 1980s coincided with profound political transformations: the defeats of the working class, the collapse of the post‑war consensus, the rise of Thatcherism and Reaganism, and the accelerating crisis of Stalinism. These developments created fertile ground for an academic orthodoxy hostile to the very idea of revolution.The new orthodoxy insisted “there was no bourgeois revolution because there was no rising bourgeoisie,” a position that functioned to teach that “mass movements cannot fundamentally alter the social order.”⁴

This was not merely a shift in scholarly fashion. It was the intellectual counterpart to the political counter‑revolution of the period. By denying the revolutionary character of the seventeenth century, revisionism implicitly denied the possibility of revolutionary change in the present.

The Flaws of Revisionism: A Caricature of Marxism

The revisionist claim that the presence of nobles on the Parliamentary side and commoners on the Royalist side disproves the class character of the conflict rests on a crude misunderstanding of Marxism. “No serious Marxist has ever expected a chemically pure revolution where every member of one class lines up neatly against every member of another.”⁵ The decisive question is not the social origins of individual participants but the class interests served by the contending forces and the objective historical outcomes of the struggle.

By these criteria, the English Civil War was unmistakably a bourgeois revolution. It abolished feudal tenures, destroyed the Crown’s independent executive power, established the supremacy of Parliament as an organ of the gentry and merchant classes, and cleared the path for capitalist agriculture and trade. These transformations were not accidental by‑products of a constitutional misunderstanding; they were the necessary results of deep‑seated social and economic contradictions.

Morrill’s insistence on religion as the primary cause is an evasion. The question is not whether religion mattered—of course it did—but why religious conflict assumed the forms it did at that specific historical moment. The rise of Puritanism, the proliferation of radical sects, and the ideological ferment of the 1640s cannot be understood apart from the processes of enclosure, the dissolution of the monasteries, and the broader dynamics of primitive accumulation. To treat religion as autonomous is to retreat into idealism.

The Stakes: Historical Materialism and the Meaning of Revolution

The revisionist dismissal of the English Revolution has implications far beyond seventeenth‑century studies. If the English Civil War was merely a constitutional accident or a religious quarrel, then the concept of bourgeois revolution itself collapses. And if bourgeois revolutions are mythical, then the Marxist conception of history—rooted in class struggle and the transformation of modes of production—is fatally undermined.

This is precisely the intellectual climate in which postmodernism, identity politics, and the rejection of “grand narratives” have flourished. The denial of the English Revolution is part of a broader ideological offensive against historical materialism.

Hill’s work, despite its limitations, remains valuable because it insists on what the revisionists deny: that the English Civil War was a revolution, that it was made by the mass of the population, and that it fundamentally transformed English society. Morrill’s volume, by contrast, must be read as a document of the intellectual counter‑revolution—a scholarly expression of the political reaction of the late twentieth century.

Conclusion

Morrill’s The Impact of the English Civil Wars is emblematic of a historiographical project that seeks to sever the English Revolution from its social foundations and to deny its revolutionary character. By elevating religion to an autonomous causal force, by dissolving national dynamics into local contingencies, and by caricaturing Marxism as a theory that demands “chemically pure” class alignments, the revisionists obscure the profound social transformations that shaped the conflict.⁶ The abolition of feudal tenures, the destruction of the Crown’s independent executive power, the rise of Parliament as the political instrument of the gentry and merchant classes, and the clearing of obstacles to capitalist development were not accidental by‑products of a constitutional crisis. They were the objective outcomes of a bourgeois revolution.

The stakes of this debate extend far beyond seventeenth‑century historiography. To deny the English Revolution is to deny the historical reality of bourgeois revolution itself, and with it the Marxist conception of history as the unfolding of class struggle. It is no coincidence that revisionism flourished alongside the rise of postmodernism, identity politics, and the repudiation of “grand narratives.” Morrill’s volume must therefore be read critically, not as a neutral scholarly contribution but as a document of the intellectual counter‑revolution that accompanied the political reaction of the late twentieth century. Against this, the Marxist tradition—despite its own internal contradictions—remains indispensable for understanding the English Civil War as a transformative moment in world history, a revolution made by the mass of the population and one that fundamentally reshaped the social order.

Notes

  1. “Set out to demolish this framework… short-term political accidents.”
  2. “There was no bourgeois revolution because there was no rising bourgeoisie… mass movements cannot fundamentally alter the social order.”
  3. “There was no rising bourgeoisie… contingent breakdown of the constitution.”
  4. “The prevailing academic orthodoxy is that there was no bourgeois revolution…”
  5. “No serious Marxist has ever expected a chemically pure revolution…”
  6. “The revisionist argument… reveals a crude, caricatured understanding of Marxism.”