Tag Archives: marxism

4 reasons to prioritize the study of the Bolivarian Revolution

The Russian Revolution has a disproportionately prominent position in the imaginations of modern revolutionaries in the West. Regardless of how smart and insightful Lenin was, and the trailblazing  efforts of the Bolsheviks, the hard truth is that the Russian Empire in the early 1900s was a totally different society than the ones we are dealing with today. Instead of focusing so much on the Russian Revolution, would-be revolutionaries should put much more energy into studying the Bolivarian Revolution, which is still playing out in Venezuela today, and which will have continent-wide ramifications. Now of course, the Bolivarian Revolution can be a controversial topic, and there are a lot of disagreements within the radical left about whether it is “truly socialist” or whatever; but regardless of these debates, I think we can all agree on the basic fact that the last couple of decades have seen some truly remarkable experiments in revolutionary praxis happen in Venezuela.

The first and most obvious reason to study the Bolivarian Revolution is that it is actually contemporary, starting in the 1990s and continuing today, as opposed to taking place 100 years ago during a totally different historical context. It started at the dawn of the information age, during an era of relative peace and a uni-polar US-controlled world order, and rebelled against neoliberal capitalism. These factors still mostly hold today, although the geopolitical context is certainly changing quite a lot, with the rise of China and Russia as economic and military rivals to the US, respectively. Compare this to the situation in the early 1900s. Basic technologies we take for granted today, like electricity and oil-based transportation, were just barely getting off the ground; the world was getting ravaged by vicious wars between evenly-matched imperial powers, in the worst violence that humanity has ever seen; and capitalism, in its modernist-developmental phase, was non-existent or peripheral to many regions that were still largely feudal in nature — such as Tsarist Russia.

Second, the Bolivarian Revolution took place in a highly urbanized country, which is again a stark contrast to Russia in 1917 (~20% urban), or really any country that saw a revolutionary socialist movement take power in the 20th century, like China, Vietnam, or Angola (Cuba is a possible exception, since in 1960 it was almost 60% urban). This is a huge factor for revolutionary politics, since the socio-economic and political dynamics of cities are extremely different than that of the rural countryside. Cities tend to be “fully capitalist”, with people totally subsumed by markets and wage-labor. In rural areas, markets have a presence but tend to exist alongside other social relations. The economic basis is also wildly different, with cities being orientated around industrial and service sectors, while rural areas revolve around energy and resources (agriculture, mining, etc), and corresponding differences in class and social composition. Given that the West is heavily urbanized, we should look closely at how radical politics has taken such deep roots within Venezuela.

Third, the Bolivarian Revolution was largely a peaceful process that combined electoral politics with autonomous social movements. This is quite novel in the history of revolutionary socialism; the closest parallel to this was the Allende government in Chile in the 1970s, which only lasted three years before being overthrown by a military coup. Chavez’s democratic road to power is crucial to study, given how hegemonic and popular democratic institutions generally are in the US, other developed countries, and wide swathes of the Global South. Despite the structural limitations of bourgeoisie democracy, its hegemony means that revolutionaries have to figure out some way to engage with it — albeit in a very different way than Western electoral parties, socialist or otherwise, have done so thus far. Hence the need to learn from the electoral experiences of Venezuelan socialists. The key lesson is probably in the relationship between electoral politicking and non or extra-electoral organizing, which has taken place across a dizzying number of cooperatives, clinics, affinity groups, neighborhood associations, etc., and how they feed into each other — a process that is much more complicated and interesting than current debates on the matter in the US and the West have acknowledged thus far.

Fourth, the Bolivarian Revolution is a revolution based on oil. The Chavez administration has used Venezuela’s oil industry as the material base for organizing and mobilizing the Venezuelan masses, turning its huge profits into funding for the aforementioned network of grassroots cooperatives and associations. This worked as long as oil prices were high (which was an explicit policy goal of Chavez), but their collapse has been the key factor in the recent crisis and potential end of the Bolivarian Revolution. This whole experience is an important lesson in the relationship between political economy and revolutionary strategy, and strategic questions about revolution and global processes — namely, imperialism and climate change. Venezuela’s oily socialism was dependent on exports to the US, which is obviously untenable for any serious revolutionary project in the long-term. And dependence on oil is itself untenable given the ongoing climate crisis. The (failed) attempts of the Bolivarian Revolution to break from US imperialism and fossil fuels must be studied; whether we can figure out how to actually overcome our material entanglement with US imperialism and fossil fuels will make or break all future revolutionary struggles.

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Enron and 1990s capitalism

It is remarkable how much of bellwether Enron turned out to be regarding structural changes within capitalism — despite the fact that the company ultimately turned out to be fraudulent house of cards built on bizarre and incomprehensible accounting tricks (although then again, maybe its fraudulent aspect is precisely that which most represents capitalism’s fundamentals). Studying the rise and fall of Enron is like studying the political economy of the 1990s in general. The Smartest Guys in the Room: The Amazing Rise and Scandalous Fall of Enron (2003) covers the whole saga with definitive detail.

Initially, in the ’80s and early ’90s, Enron was a logistics company in the energy industry, specifically focusing on owning natural gas infrastructure. This involved being the intermediary between gas production plants and consumers, selling access to pipeline capacity, ensuring delivery, etc. Before long, Enron started to financialize all these physical assets, which coincided with the steady deregulation of the energy markets. Gas contracts were made more short-term, and trading markets were set up so that contracts could be bought and sold by third parties, and speculation on future prices started to increase. Of course, since Enron controlled a large portion of national natural gas infrastructure, they had access to high-quality information to inform their bets.

Even as Enron slowly morphed into primarily being a financial firm, they expanded their physical operations globally by hopping on the international development train that was taking off after the end of the Cold War. This was a time when privatization of assets and contracts across the Third World was heating up, and Enron was buying up energy and resource access in places like India and Brazil. A lot of these deals turned out to be total busts, not least because Enron was far more interested in closing big deals, fast, than in actually running an efficient and profitable operation, or even making deals that made long-term financial sense. And when they did make a profitable longer-term deal for themselves, as in the case of the infamous Dahbol gas plant in Maharashtra, India, they turned out to be such blatantly crooked deals that they were eventually shut down by popular backlash. For an analysis specific to Enron’s global operations, check out Vijay Prashad’s Fat Cats and Running Dogs: The Enron Stage of Capitalism (2002).

Within the company, the real fraud turned out to be in the accounting. Enron used “mark-to-mark” accounting, popular on Wall Street, which allowed you to book the total expected profits from a deal immediately, instead of as the cash actually came in over the life of the deal. The flip side of this is that if the expected value of the deal decreases in the future, you have to mark that down as a loss. Of course, Enron never did that, and took the abuse even further by twisting their assumptions about deal profitability to absurd lengths to book whatever amount of profits they needed to hit their quarterly earnings targets. And when they did have to face a loss, Enron shuffled away them away in weird shell company entities so that losses and debt were moved off the company books. However, these didn’t actually disappear, and slowly grew as a ticking time bomb over the course of the ’90s.

But even before the accounting fraud finally blew up, Enron became infamous for their actions during the 2000-2001 California electricity crisis, when they took advantage of a shoddy power deregulation effort to manipulate the markets and engage in serious price-gouging. By this point, Enron’s physical assets had grown to include power systems, and they used these to do things like withhold or divert power to drive up prices, or overload the transmission line schedules to get paid to not produce power, and so on.

Last but not least, Enron even tired to get into the Internet business, by trying to roll out broadband networks and to build a trading operation for Internet access like they had done for natural gas and electricity. This turned out to be a bust, not only because they didn’t understand the technology, but also because the dot-com bubble popped in 2000.

So to sum up, the story of Enron is also a story of logistics infrastructure, energy deregulation, state privatization, international development and neocolonialism, financialization and speculation, Internet and tech — and, fundamentally, the short-term systemic thinking that is central to the overall operations of capitalism. Wowza!

Post-Western films and the violence of capital

There has been an interesting trend in Hollywood in recent years around a new kind of Western. I’ve been calling them “post-Western”. Films in this category are set in the modern Western hinterlands, in the small towns and back-countries of states like Texas, Arizona, and Wyoming, and feature similar plots and themes as the old Westerns, like anti-heroes, lawlessness, individual valor, isolation, revenge, etc.

The main difference between the traditional Western and the post-Western is not in the actual time period (1800s vs. modern times), but rather, the portrayal of the changing position of the Western landscape within global capitalism. Westerns portrayed an area that was the dynamic edge of capital, with white settlers clearing the way for industrialization and development by chopping through Native Americans and Mexicans. It was a celebration of a civilization conquering fresh and promising new lands, sparsely inhabited by barbarians and rabble. Post-Westerns, on the other hand, examine this same region it its contemporary phase: stagnant, exploited, and decaying, whatever promises and romances the area once conjured up now revealed as a sick joke.

[Discussion/spoilers ahead for: Hell or High Water, Sicario, Wind River, No Country For Old Men, and Logan] 

Hell or High Water (2016) captures the post-Western perfectly. This film centers around two middle-aged brothers who are robbing banks across small-town Texas, in order to pay for their recently deceased mother’s mortgage — owned by the same bank they are robbing. The film also features two Texas Rangers, one white and one Native American, played by Jeff Bridges and Gil Birmingham, respectively. A conversation the two partners have during a stake-out of a bank sums up the socio-economic trajectory of the West:

Hamilton: Just relax, and enjoy this little town.

Parker: You wanna live here? There’s an old hardware store that charges twice what Home Depot does; one restaurant with a rattlesnake for a waitress; and how’s anybody supposed to make a living here?

Hamilton: People have made a living here for 150 years.

Parker: People lived in caves for 150,000 years, and they don’t do that no more.

Hamilton: Well, maybe your people did…

Parker: Psh, your people did too. Long time ago, your ancestors was the Indians. ‘Till someone came along and killed them, broke them down, made you into one of them. 150 years ago, all this was my ancestors’ land. Everything you could see. Everything you saw yesterday. ‘Till the grandparents of these folks took it. And now its been taken from them. Except it ain’t no army doing it. Its those sons of bitches right there. [points at the bank]

This discussion reveals one of the cruel ironies of the West today: that the denizens of the rural and small-town West find themselves being cut down and devoured by the very same forces that their ancestors once served. It is this cannibalism by capital that infuses the background of Post-Westerns.

texas_bank

Hell or High Water was written by Taylor Sheridan, and his other scripts also fit the Post-Western genre. Sicario (2015) showcases the US-Mexico borderlands and the reach of the underground drug economy, as well as the nature of the modern national security state. In the traditional Western, lawlessness and vigilantism are shown as the consequence of the young and untamed nature of the frontier. In Sicario, we are confronted with a powerful and mature institution that is absorbing and co-opting the very criminality it is supposed to suppress, a mutation of the armed wing of the state in an opportunistic and self-serving feedback loop — which shouldn’t be surprising, given the traditional relations between American empire, various reactionary paramilitary formations, and the drug economy (see: Colombia).

Another of Sheridan’s films, Wind River (2017), is set in the Wind River reservation in Wyoming, home to the remnants of the Shoshone and Arapaho tribes (and unfortunately and inexplicably, still has two white actors as the leads). The film turns the lens back to original victims of America’s western expansion, and shows that even if capital is now crushing those whose ancestors aided in its expansion, this doesn’t mean that the crushing of Native Americans has ceased in the meantime. The film revolves around the rape and murder of a Native girl, which is ultimately tied back to white oil workers stationed at a nearby extraction site. This, of course, points to how the conquest of native territory was always about seizing control of some kind of natural resource, from fertile farming lands to mineral deposits to fossil fuels. The pillaging of the land, and the accompanying human violence, has remained a constant presence across the West since the appearance of the first white settlers.

Since it is the specter of capital lurking around the background that defines the Post-Western, it is a bit tricky to lump No Country For Old Men (2007) under the label. Despite aesthetically being some kind of Western, the overall setting doesn’t really have the same kind of characterization that it does in Sheridan’s trilogy; there isn’t much sense of history or change in the motels, ranches, and small-town stores that the actual characters move through. However, perhaps the specter of capital here is actually directly personified in the demonic antagonist, Anton Chigurh, whose philosophical nihilism is only matched by his ruthless violence against anybody who stands in the way of his mission — even those who hired him in the first place. Chigurh’s inexorable march toward victory, and the bodies he leaves behind, echoes the way the ceaseless operations of capital explicitly liquidate the small town and back-country backgrounds of Sheridan’s films.

And just what is the end-point of capital’s inexorable, ceaseless processes? For this answer, we could turn to an unlikely candidate: Logan (2017), the final installation of Marvel’s Wolverine franchise, starring Hugh Jackman. This film fits the category of post-Western, as much as it does superhero, science-fiction, and/or dystopian. Corporate paramilitary groups appear to hold dominance not just in the US-Mexico borderlands, but across the US entirely. The degenerating national security state that we saw in Sicario is either completely absent, or has mutated into something totally unrecognizable. Mutants have been wiped out, and those who are left are seen as a resource to be enslaved and harvested for bio-genetic and military R&D. Capital, left to run amok, has uprooted and disintegrated everything that may have been good in this world.

It is a deeply grim picture; and yet, the goofiest aspect of the movie is also the one that may have the most to say about the Western landscape and its past and future. Logan’s ultimate enemy in the film ends up being a cloned version of himself, young, healthy, and strong, and stripped of all the moral trappings the real Logan has gained over the years. This confrontation can reveal an allegory of the Western genres. The real Logan, like the post-Western setting, is old, ragged, and full of self-doubt. The cloned Logan, like the traditional Western setting, is young, enthusiastically violent, and completely unquestioning of its mission and purpose. The real Logan is the West at its decaying end; the cloned Logan is the West in its blood-soaked beginning.

Despite the odds, of course, real Logan — with the help of his clone-daughter and other young fugitive mutants — defeats the clone Logan, and then promptly dies, allowing the torch to be passed on to the next generation. It is here that some hope can be found, among all the bleakness and nihilism that has thus far defined the post-Western and what it shows about the dying Western hinterlands and the ever-present specter of capital. Despite its bloody, imperial origins, the modern West can still harbor resistance and rebellion, even among those whose ancestors partook in its original savagery. The key is to not look backward, toward a mythical golden era that never existed, but indeed to bury this mythology and look forward to what may still be created, against and outside of capitalism.

Why are revolutionaries so obsessed with the Russian Revolution?

This is a silly question, on the face of it; of course revolutionaries are obsessed with the first successful communist revolution in history (regardless of how the revolutionary state evolved or devolved afterwards). And I don’t think I have to go out of my way to prove that most of the socialist movement in the US looks to the Russian Revolution and the works of Lenin as the basis for their thinking about revolutionary strategy. But the real question is: why just the Russian Revolution? Why doesn’t the Chinese Revolution and the works of Mao figure in just as importantly? And what about revolutionary movements closer to home: the Black Panther Party, or more recently, the Zapatistas in Mexico, or the socialist movement in Venezuela?

The main reason is probably that it is a consequence of historical momentum. The Russian Revolution had a massive impact on global politics, and the communist government made a lot of effort to export its ideas and practices abroad. The rise of Stalin and the exile of Trotsky contributed to this, with the latter’s followers working hard to spread their interpretation of the Russian Revolution, the USSR, and Marxism, in competition with the official line of the CPUSA. Despite the fact that the Chinese Revolution happened a full half-century later than the Russian Revolution, the Chinese communists didn’t prioritize exporting their model (an observation noted in Revolution in the Air: Sixties Radicals Turn to Lenin, Mao, and Che), and so relative to Trotskyism, Maoism has remained more marginal.

Eurocentrism is also probably a big factor. Russia is generally imagined to be “white”, “Western”, and/or “European”, and thus for Western socialists its easier to imagine and relate with narratives about the Russian Revolution, than more recent struggles in the darker nations. This is despite the fact that, in terms of what the social and material context of the different revolutions were, there doesn’t seem to have been much difference between Russia in the 1910s and China in the 1940s: both nations were largely agricultural, with a marginal industrial base, and totally wracked by war. Indeed, it is arguable that both of these cases are pretty damn far off from what the current conditions of struggle are in the industrialized West!

This is why, aside from when I need to tickle my fancy for history, I am generally not interested in studying the details of the Russian and Chinese Revolutions. It seems far more important to examine case studies much more relevant to the current situation. The Black Panther Party is one such case, since they were arguably the most important revolutionary group on US soil in the post-WW2 era. Also important are the more recent radical movements in the rest of the Americas: the Zapatistas in Chiapas, various militant social movements in Brazil, and the socialist movements in Venezuela and Bolivia. The Venezuelan case is particularly noteworthy, given that they seized state power in a largely urban country, through participation in the country’s democratic institutions, while also maintaining and even expanding autonomous spaces for grassroots experimentation and mobilization. Of course, things there have been spiraling out of the control for a couple of years now; but regardless, the Venezuelan Revolution is a much more worthy example to obsess over, than one on a different continent that happened a hundred years ago.

Netscape and the rise of technocapitalism

Only ’90s kids will remember Netscape, the original browser of the Internet before the era of Internet Explorer, Mozilla Firefox, and Google Chrome. But what we didn’t realize was the impact Netscape had on capitalism, and the way it symbolized and perhaps even initiated a recomposition of political economy. I have a hypothetical periodization of capitalism that I’ve been trying to work out, involving a distinction between industrial capitalism, finance capitalism, and technocapitalism, based on what industries are dominating the economy and directing the flow of capital, and studying the Netscape era yields some very useful information.

Netscape was the first real “unicorn”, a tech start-up that becomes valued in the billions of dollars by big investors. It was the brainchild of Jim Clark, an eccentric entrepreneur in the likes of Steve Jobs, whose impact on Silicon Valley has been documented in Michael Lewis’ The New New Thing (1999). Clark had already made a small fortune during the 1980s from his first start-up, Silicon Graphics, which had revolutionized graphic cards and 3-D rendering and paved the way for graphic user interfaces and the personal computer. But as the company grew, it was essentially taken over by Wall St. investors, who pushed out Clark and took control of the the profits.

Bankers taking control of up-and-coming companies wasn’t exactly a novel thing; it was how things were in the 1980s. But with Netscape, Clark was determined to not lose control and money to the bankers again. The new company, and its core product — an Internet browser — suddenly made the Internet more accessible to the average person by many orders of magnitude, and thus also meant a massive, massive market opportunity.

Its not clear exactly what kind of bargaining power Clark had against Wall St. Part of it was probably just a case of information asymmetry, and the bankers having severe FOMO. But in any case, he and his team played hard and fast against selling out the company too early, or for too few shares or seats on the board, and the result was that Netscape was the first tech firm that had engineers and programmers at the top, controlling the lion’s share of capital and the flow of profit. Wall St. made money too, of course, but they were simply following along in the wake. When the company launched its IPO in 1995, it turned the engineers and programmers into millionaires, and the co-founders into billionaires, and forever changed the game for Silicon Valley. Even though the company would be very quickly run off the road by Microsoft and Internet Explorer, the nature of its rise created a new standard for the ambitions and strategies of its entrepreneurs, and flipped the balance of power between tech capital and finance capital.

However, the Netscape era was only the beginning of a larger recomposition and re-balancing of global capitalism. The rise of technocapitalism rode on the Dot-com bubble, which burst in 2000 and eviscerated the industry. The survivors would kneel once again before finance capital — until the latter had its own reckoning in the 2008 financial crisis, after the housing bubble burst. Once the smoke cleared, tech would once again be in the vanguard of capitalism, based on the foundations built by companies like Netscape years earlier.

Finance capitalism vs. industrial capitalism

What marked the beginning of the modern era of finance capitalism, and what differentiates it from the earlier era of industrial capitalism? There is some good information and arguments on this in David Harvey’s A Brief History of Neoliberalism (2005), and in Gerard Dumenil and Dominique Levy’s Capital Resurgent: Roots of the Neoliberal Revolution (2004) (which is cited extensively by Harvey).

By most measures, finance capitalism arose out of the crisis of the 1970s, and its hegemony has lasted at least until the 2008 crash. There were several factors in why finance capital started becoming so structurally dominant:

  • The collapse of the Bretton Woods system (which regulated international monetary policies and tied the US dollar to a gold standard), thus making most currencies free-floating, and loosening the ability of capital to flow across national boundaries
  • The oil shocks of the 1970s, caused first by the 1973 OPEC embargo and then by the 1979 Iranian Revolution, drastically increased the profits of oil-producing nations, who subsequently invested these super-profits into Western banks
  • The political turn toward financial deregulation in the late 1970s and through the 1980s, which was both a consequence and a cause of the increasing economic power of finance capital
  • The Volcker Shock, which spiked interest rates in 1979 and ushered in an era of high real interest rates through the 1980s and 1990s; this drastically increased the flow of capital toward creditors (financial institutions), and as companies or even whole governments defaulted, sold off assets, and restructured, finance gained more and more direct control over the global economy

One major qualitative change in the era of finance capitalism seems to be the commodification of consumption. This might be a strange way of putting it; after all, isn’t consumption always about consuming commodities? But what I mean here is that under finance capitalism, the very act of consuming — the purchasing goods and services — itself becomes a commodity, to be bought and sold on the market, in the form of various types of consumer debt.

Another major qualitative change was in the nature of corporate governance and the control of profits. After the 1970s, industrial production was increasingly controlled according to the dictates of finance. More and more profits were sucked up into finance companies and to shareholders, rather than reinvested back into production, as was the general trend during industrial capitalism; and on the flip side, many industrial corporations increasingly branched out into finance themselves.

Capital Resurgent, p111

Another way we can describe this periodization is by pinpointing where the center of dynamism was in the economy during different eras. In the era of industrial capitalism, the cutting edge of profit-making was in creating new industrial goods: automobiles, household appliances, houses, gadgets and widgets and doohickeys and whatnot. In the era of finance capitalism, the cutting edge of profit-making shifted toward the creation of new types of debt and other avenues for extracting surplus value from the circulation of capital, rather than just in production and distribution.

I’m not sure quite how accurate all of this is; there are some good graphs in Capital Resurgent clearly demonstrating how finance companies become very powerful in the 1980s and 1990s, if you judge by metrics like market cap or rate of profit. However, other metrics — i.e. consumer debt in the US — don’t as strong or clear of a trend. It’d be useful to find some more raw data-sets on such things, to get a stronger quantitative understanding of the transition.

But the real purpose of thinking through this potential framework of industrial capitalism vs. finance capitalism is to consider whether there has been yet another shift, toward an era of technocapitalism, where the cutting edge of profit-making is in the commodification of data. After all, data has been declared to be the new oil, and tech companies are generally understood to be at the top of contemporary capitalism’s pyramid. This also raises the question of how useful the term “neoliberal” actually is, and whether it is specific to finance capitalism and whether we need a more nuanced understanding for technocapitalism. But more on this another day.

US Marxist-Leninist electoralism in the ’70s and ’80s

I recently read two good things on US Marxist-Leninist groups in the ’70s and ’80s: Out of Oakland: Black Panther Party Internationalism During the Cold War (2017), and “Lessons From One Left to the Next: Revolution in the Air Revisited”.  The first is a book on the Black Panther Party (BPP) and its international organizing efforts, and the second is a book review on the New Communist Movement.

It is extremely interesting to see how the BPP, as it started to fall apart after 1971, started to very rapidly turn toward electoral politics.  And this turn didn’t even try to maintain much of a veneer of revolutionary communism.  In 1973, the BPP more or less fully pivoted away from revolutionary struggle and focused on electing Bobby Seale as Mayor of Oakland, and Elaine Brown to the Oakland city council.  Their leaflets urged voters to “Elect Two Democrats”; they advocated for the economic benefits of having police officers live within city limits; and they proposed a “Multi-Ethnic International Trade and Cultural Center” on the grounds that it would help trade and cultural exchange with developing countries and help grow local businesses and tourism.  By the end of the decade, the BPP was basically nothing more than an appendage of the Democratic Party; Elaine Brown attended the 1976 Democratic National Convention as a delegate for Jerry Brown’s presidential campaign.  (Malloy 217-9).

What the hell happened?  The book doesn’t go into much detail, since its much more about the way BPP’s politics and philosophy on internationalism changed over time, than about the internal dynamics of the party domestically.  My own hypothesis, as argued here, is that the BPP was materially dependent on social bases outside of its lumpen-proletarian core membership, namely elite white liberals and black businessmen.  For a short while, these groups were willing to support the BPP in its radical program.  But as the Vietnam War winded down and the US government opened up space for the emergence of a black middle class, these groups became increasingly moderate, and the BPP was forced to follow this moderating trend.

Of course, the BPP wasn’t the only revolutionary group operating during this time period, even if it was the biggest and most visible.  The New Communist Movement saw a number of radical left groups organizing explicitly around Marxist-Leninist lines in the ’70s and ’80s, in the aftermath of the New Left movements of the ’60s.  Unfortunately this area of organizing seems rather understudied comparatively to the ’60s movements, which is why resources like Paul Saba’s bare-bones website, part of the Marxists Internet Archive, are so useful.  The Revolutionary Communist Party (RCP), which is now a creepy cult around its leader Bob Avakian, is one relic from this era.  Another large and relatively well-organized group was the Communist Party (Marxist-Leninist), which was founded in 1977 and collapsed in 1982 — perhaps for the better, given that the party opposed gay liberation, supported the Khmer Rogue, and called on the US to arm mujaheddin fighters in Afghanistan after the Soviet invasion in ’79.  This report, written by a leading member who resigned in 1980, seems like very interesting and insightful reading on the trials and tribulations of the CP(ML).

Around the same time, another very interesting group formed, the League of Revolutionary Struggle (LRS), which unlike the CP(ML) was largely composed of people of color organizing around national liberation movements.  The LRS was a merger of I Wor Kuen (made up of Chinese Americans), and the August 29th Movement (made up of Chicanos).  It soon merged with the East Wind Collective (made up of Japanese Americans), Seize the Time (made up of Blacks and Chicanos), and Amiri Baraka’s Revolutionary Communist League.

Sounds super cool, right?  Except, skimming through the documents, the most active campaigns that the LRS seems to have engaged in was…campaigning for Jesse Jackson in the Democratic Party primaries in 1984 and 1988.

What is it with Marxism-Leninism and milquetoast electoralism???

But snark aside, the post-’68 movements are extremely interesting, not to mention important, given that they were attempting to organize and (supposedly) trying to stir up revolutionary struggle at precisely the time when capitalism was restructuring into its modern neoliberal form.  Taking a closer look at the activities and internal debates of the New Communist Movement groups could tell us a lot about how to deal with such a terrain of struggle, give us a better understanding of US radical organizing that is more recent than the ’60s, and of course give us valuable lessons for today at a time when the debate within the radical left around democratic socialism, revolutionary struggle, and the Democratic Party is heating up.