Marvin’s book, despite its vivid descriptions, primarily
presents a phenomenology of decline rather than a clear explanation. It details
the breakdown of working-class consciousness—such as its divisions into white,
male, northern, immigrant, disabled, unemployed groups—but stops short of
identifying the political forces behind this fragmentation. While it captures
the emotional tone of defeat, it does not specify the institutions responsible
for creating it. The author calls for a revival of “collective will,’ yet fails
to propose a concrete plan to achieve it. Consequently, the book serves more as
a lament than an intervention: it paints a picture of destruction but offers no
insight into who built it.
The International Committee of the Fourth International has
long argued that the British working class's defeat was not an inherent social
process. It wasn't an unavoidable result of deindustrialisation, globalisation,
or cultural shifts. Instead, it was a deliberate political failure caused by organisations
that claimed to represent workers. Marvin’s book fails to confront this issue.
Instead of addressing the specific institutions that
disarmed the working class—such as the Labour Party, trade unions, and labour
reformist structures—he replaces them with vague terms like “power,” “capital,”
and “the system.” By not naming these responsible forces, Marvin turns a
political defeat into a cultural tragedy, framing the working class as victims
of impersonal forces rather than of particular betrayals. This omission is
significant; it’s the book’s primary limitation.
The miners’ strike of
1984–85
The miners’ strike of 1984–85
stands as a pivotal moment in modern British working-class history. It marked
the point when the ruling class, supported by the state, faced off against a
militant section of workers — with the Labour and trade-union bureaucracy
ensuring their defeat. The SEP’s fortieth-anniversary analysis remains the
clearest summary: Scargill waged the strike on a national-reformist platform,
believing that militant action would secure concessions and that Labour would
carry out a “Plan for Coal." In response, the state used unprecedented
force. The TUC refused to organise solidarity actions, Neil Kinnock opposed the
strike, and the NUM fought alone for an entire year.
This was not incompetence but the logic embedded in the
trade-union bureaucracy’s structural role: a social layer whose existence
hinges on suppressing independent working-class activism. The miners’ defeat
did not transform Labour and the unions; it set the stage for such change.
Blairism was not a mere deviation but the natural completion of Labour’s
development. Marvin’s book cannot account for the decline of working-class
power because it cannot explain the miners’ loss. Without that defeat, the
later fragmentation of class consciousness does not make sense.
Identity Politics: The Ideological Weapon Marvin
Describes but Cannot Analyse
Marvin catalogues the
proliferation of identities — white, male, northern, immigrant, disabled — but
treats them as organic developments. They were not. They were promoted. The
SEP’s 2018 congress resolution identified identity politics as the political
weapon of an upper-middle-class layer seeking to defend its privileges; it is
directed against the working class and involves governments, media,
universities, and NGOs. — all embraced identity politics because it fragments
class consciousness, substitutes cultural antagonisms for class antagonism,
diverts anger away from capitalism, and legitimises the political dominance of
privileged layers. Marvin describes the fragmentation but not its purpose. He
sees the symptoms but not the strategy.
The endorsements from Richard Seymour and China Miéville are
deliberate indicators, revealing more than mere support. Both are tied to the
post-Corbyn environment that has reconciled with parliamentary reformism—an
approach that, instead of challenging the system responsible for working-class
defeats, has acted as its latest conduit. Corbynism wasn't a challenge to
Blairism; it functioned as a safety valve. It channelled the radical energy of
hundreds of thousands, especially young people, back into the Labour Party—an
institution historically guilty of betrayal. Every retreat was presented as a
strategic calculation; every capitulation, a tactical move. This led to
Starmer’s rise as the most right-wing Labour leader ever, a trajectory rooted
in Corbyn’s own failure to reject Labourism. Marvin’s book, supported by this
milieu, cannot criticise the machinery of betrayal because its endorsers are
part of it.
The ongoing crisis facing the Starmer government confirms
the ICFI’s long-standing analysis. Labour now primarily appeals to higher
managerial and professional workers, with only 14 per cent of routine and
manual workers supporting it—far behind Reform. This trend isn’t just
temporary; it signifies Labour’s complete disconnection from the working class.
However, the Labour “left”—including Corbyn, McDonnell, and the Socialist
Campaign Group—plays a key role in maintaining stability by advocating for an “orderly
transition” and discouraging workers from taking independent action. Marvin’s
book cannot account for this crisis because it fails to explain Labour’s
fundamental transformation.
Marvin and the Pseudo‑Lefts: The Elegy That Protects the
Betrayers
Marvin’s book naturally belongs to the sphere of the
pseudo-left — including the post-Corbyn intelligentsia, the academic-NGO
sector, and the cultural left that has severed ties with revolutionary
politics. This group excels at lamenting the working class while often
defending, sanitising, or ignoring the political forces responsible for its
decline. Marvin’s tribute aligns perfectly with this perspective.
The pseudo-left acknowledges the working class's setbacks
but focuses obsessively on defeat through memoirs, documentaries, and
sociological portraits of “left-behind” communities. However, it views these
defeats as a social condition rather than a political failure. These setbacks
are seen as tragic stories to be told, not betrayals to be examined or
challenged. The role of the pseudo-left is to keep the suffering of the working
class continuously visible without providing explanations or addressing the underlying
causes.
This explains why figures like Seymour and Miéville endorse
Marvin’s book. Their support isn't accidental; it reveals a pattern: a sorrow
for the working class that overlooks the institutions that disarmed it. The
Labour Party, trade unions, the Corbyn movement, and all of identity politics
vanish into the fog of “power” and “capital.” The pseudo-left favours this
because it absolves them of accountability. They can mourn the working class
while still defending the very systems that contributed to its defeat.
In this context, Marvin’s book does not oppose the
pseudo-left; it actually supports it. By avoiding mention of Labourism,
trade-unionism, and identity politics as the main factors that fragmented class
consciousness and hindered working-class struggles, Marvin offers the
pseudo-left exactly what it seeks: a cultural story of decline that masks the
political betrayal at its heart. His lament becomes a shield—protecting Labour,
the unions, and the post-Corbyn left from the accountability they deserve. The working
class doesn't need another lament; it doesn't need another book that lists its
injuries while concealing those responsible. Instead, it needs clarity,
strategy, and leadership. It needs a movement that explicitly names its
enemies—concretely—and prepares for a renewed, internationalist socialist
struggle.
Marvin’s book cannot accomplish this. The pseudo-left fails
to deliver, and only a revolutionary party that strongly rejects Labourism,
identity politics, and the petty-bourgeois ideology can. In Britain, this is
represented by the Socialist Equality Party and the International Committee of
the Fourth International. Marvin talks about a betrayed class, but without
identifying the betrayers, the betrayal continues. His book is more a lament
than a rallying cry. The working class needs more than emotional descriptions
of suffering; it needs a political movement that directly names those who have
robbed it of power and offers a plan to regain the struggle.
