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Title: Approaches to industrial democracy
Author: Geoffrey Ostergaard
Date: April 1961
Language: en
Topics: Britain, workers’ control
Source: Retrieved on 4th March 2021 from https://libcom.org/library/approaches-industrial-democracy-geoffrey-ostergaard
Notes: From Anarchy #002

Geoffrey Ostergaard

Approaches to industrial democracy

The ideal of industrial democracy is as old as the Labour Movement and

has its roots in the conditions which gave rise to an organised

socialist movement in the early 19^(th) century. Of these conditions the

most important was the destruction of the hitherto generally prevailing

‘domestic system’ of production, under which the worker owned his own

tools, and its replacement by the factory system, under which the means

of production were owned by others. A concomitant of this change was the

widespread adoption of the wage system, The independent craftsman or

peasant was transformed into the industrial proletarian who, in order to

live, found himself compelled to sell his labour power to the owners of

the new factories. Under this wage-system, capital employed labour,

labour was treated as a commodity and, as part of his bargain with the

capitalist, the wage worker surrendered all control over the

organisation of production and all claim to the product of his labour.

The patent injustice of this system suggested to the first generation of

socialists an obvious alternative. Instead of working for capitalists,

the workers should work for themselves — not individually, as under the

pre-industrial system, but collectively or, to use the then current

phrase, ‘in association’. They should pool their limited savings, invest

them in the means of production, and institute a system of mutual

self-employment. In this way, the workers would escape the wage system,

together they would retain control of the product. Capital would be put

in its proper place as the servant of labour; labour would employ

capital, not capital, labour; and the worker would once more regain the

dignity of being his own master instead of being treated as a marketable

commodity.

This, in essence, was the first approach to industrial democracy — the

co-operative approach. It is the approach favoured by none other than

that doyen of mid-19^(th) century bourgeois economists, John Stuart

Mill. In a chapter of his famous Principles of Political Economy

concerned with ‘The Probable Futurity of the Labouring Classes’, Mill

predicted: “The form of association … which if mankind continue to

improve, must be expected in the end to predominate, is not that which

can exist between a capitalist as chief, a workpeople without a voice in

management, but the association of the labourers themselves on terms of

equality, collectively owning the capital with which they carry on their

operations, and working under managers elected and removable by

themselves”.

The history of the 19^(th) century is studded with attempts by groups of

workers to apply this approach to industrial democracy. Most of these

attempts were unsuccessful, but not all. At the present time there exist

in this country some forty or so worker co-operatives, mainly in the

footwear, clothing and printing trades, which exemplify this original

approach. These cooperative co-partnerships are of course, to be sharply

distinguished from the more numerous retail and wholesale co-operatives

which substitute democratic consumer for capitalist control but

introduce no modifications in the wage system. Taken together the

co-operative co-partnerships constitute an insignificant part of the

national economy but they remain nevertheless the clearest examples of a

form of socialised production which goes beyond the wage system.

The limitations of the co-operative approach are obvious. One of the

major obstacles to the extension of the co-operative system of

production was the workers’ lack of capital and it is no accident that

the industries in which co-partnerships have become established are

those requiring comparatively little capital and where labour costs

constitute a large proportion of aggregate costs. More important, the

whole approach was grounded on the assumption that co-operatives could

peacefully compete the capitalists out of existence. The workers were to

build up the new system inside the capitalist framework with the object

of eventually superseding capitalism: they were to build up their own

capital, not to take over anybody else’s.

The questioning of this social pacifist assumption led to· the

development of a new approach to industrial democracy-that of the

syndicalists. In essence, the syndicalist idea was simple. The workers

had already developed protective organisations in the shape of trade

unions to defend their interests vis-a-vis the capitalist employers: why

should not these same organisations be used to supplant capitalism?

Instead of merely fighting for better wages and conditions, the trade

unions should, in addition, aim at winning control of industry. On this

theory, the unions had a dual role to perform: first, to defend the

interests of workers in existing society, and secondly, to constitute

themselves the units of industrial administration in the coming

socialist society.

It was this approach to industrial democracy which was adopted by the

classical syndicalist movement in the decade before the First World War

and by its successor, the guild socialist movement. There were some

important differences between the two movements. Syndicalism was

essentially a proletarian movement which pinned its faith on direct

revolutionary industrial reaction culminating in the social general

strike: guild socialism, in contrast, was largely a movement of

bourgeois intellectuals which, while supporting direct action, hoped to

see workers’ control introduced as a constitutional reform through the

State. There was a further difference in their attitude to management.

Broadly, the syndicalists regarded the managers as mere lackeys of the

capitalist class and saw no problem in the workers, through their

unions, taking over the functions of management. The guildsmen, on the

other hand, were more conscious of the complexities of industrial

administration; they saw the need for managers and insisted that the

democratically organised industrial union, to be transformed into a

guild when it became a unit of industrial organisation, should include

technical and administrative workers — ‘the salariat’ — as well as the

rank-and-file manual workers.

Both movements, however, shared the same central idea — industrial

democracy through trade union control of industry — and both may be seen

in part as a reaction against State Socialist doctrines whether

adumbrated by the reformist Fabians and Labourites or by the

revolutionary Marxists. Nationalisation by itself, both the syndicalists

and guildsmen declared would make no essential difference to the status

of the worker. Under bureaucratic State ownership the worker would

remain alienated from the means of production. He would be working for

the State and not a private capitalist, but he would still be a

wage-worker and, as such, treated essentially as a commodity, a factor

of production, rather than as a human being with inalienable rights. In

short, State Socialism was only another name for State Capitalism.

During the period 1912–1925 guild socialism exerted a considerable

influence on the Labour Party’s nationalisation policy. Bureaucratic

nationalisation on the model of the Post Office was discredited and

industrial democracy as the necessary complement of political democracy

became an axiom of Labour ideology. But instead of guild socialism being

swallowed outright, a compromise was effected between the old and the

new. The form this compromise first took is best seen in the Miners’

Nationalisation proposals laid before the Sankey Commission of 1919. A

quasi-independent form of administration was to be set up, under which

the State and the Miners’ Federation would exercise ‘joint control’, the

State appointing half and the Federation the other half, of members of

management boards at all levels. This compromise was rejected by the

syndicalists as a snare and a delusion but was accepted by the guildsmen

and the miners as a step towards the establishment of a fully

self-governing Mining Guild which would have complete control of the

industry.

In retrospect it is now clear that the acceptance of this compromise was

a fateful step for the protagonists of industrial democracy to take. It

marked the beginning of a process of watering-down the concept of

industrial democracy as hitherto understood and the development of a new

approach — that of participation in management. In an effort to

counteract the movement for workers’ control, ‘enlightened’ employers,

spurred on by the Government, put forward the idea of joint

consultation. The right of workers to be consulted on matters outside

the scope of the traditional areas of collective bargaining — wages and

conditions — was admitted, while at the same time management was clearly

to remain in effective control. Joint consultation represents in effect

a spurious concession by management in the name of democracy to ward off

challenges to its prerogatives.

It was not to be expected that industrial democrats brought up in the

guild socialist movement would accept this concession at its face value.

But, having promoted the idea of ‘joint control’, they found it

difficult to combat joint consultation except in terms of workers’

representation on management boards. Inevitably, the notion of workers

control began to be associated with the idea of workers’ representation

and, perhaps equally inevitably, once the guild movement had collapsed.

the industrial democrats found themselves committed to the view that any

representation of the workers was better than none. For the last

generation, in fact, the main debate on industrial democracy within the

British Labour Movement has been conducted in terms of joint

consultation versus workers’ representation. And in this debate the

‘radicals’ have steadily lost ground.

When in the early ‘30s the Labour Party adopted the Public Corporation

as its chosen instrument for the nationalisation of basic industries, it

was round the question of the composition of the governing boards that

controversy centred. The unofficial leadership, with Morrison as its

chief spokesman, came out for the non-representative board — the

so-called corporate board of ability — appointed wholly by the

Government; the right of the workers to participate in management was

acknowledged but it was to take the form of joint consultation with the

trade unions having no more than advisory powers. The critics opposed

this and claimed 50% direct representation by the trade unions. The

claim was rejected, so the critics reduced their claim and have been

steadily reducing it ever since. Over the past 25 years the idea of

workers’ representation has been successively whittled away. If not half

the seats on management boards, then less than half; if such members are

not to be appointed by the trade unions, then at least nominated by the

trade unions; if not nominated by the trade unions, then at least one

trade union leader to be appointed by the Government. Until we reach the

feeble demand. expressed frequently in the post-war years at Labour

Party and Trade Union conferences. for ‘more trade unionists’, meaning

by that, of course, ‘more ex-trade unionists’, on the boards.

The reason why the idea of workers’ representation has met this fate is

not wholly explained by the superior forces of managerial socialism

ranged behind the Morrisonian concept of the public corporation. There

are many within the Labour Movement who are deeply conscious of the

inadequacies of the present set-up in nationalised industries and who

feel that no amount of joint consultation will suffice to give the

workers a genuine sense of democratic participation in the control of

their working lives. But the industrial democrats in choosing to fight

over the issue of workers’ representation — or, more strictly, trade

union representation — have chosen badly. Intellectually, they have a

weak case whose defects it has been only too easy to expose.

The case against trade union representation was most persuasively stated

by Hugh Clegg in his Industrial Democracy and Nationalisation, 1951. To

argue that the trade unions should appoint representatives to serve on

management boards is to assert in effect, that the unions should be both

in the government of industry and, at the same time, outside it. If the

unions are to remain partly outside, as the system of joint control

envisages, it must be because they have a function to perform: to defend

their members’ interests vis-a-vis those of management. But how can they

perform this latter role effectively if, at the same time, they are

partly responsible, through their representatives, for managerial

decisions? The two roles — defending the workers’ interests and

participating in managerial decisions — inevitably conflict. The trade

union representatives on boards would be faced with an insoluble

conflict of loyalties. The trade unions, therefore, Clegg concluded,

must firmly avoid accepting any responsibility for managerial decisions;

the role cast for them is that of being the permanent opposition in

industry. Industrial democracy, as well as political democracy, depends

for its existence on an active opposition which is able to prevent the

arbitrary exercise of power by the government — in this case, the

management. At the same time joint consultation is to be encouraged by a

means of improving relations between the government and the governed,

but it must remain consultation: any attempt to go beyond it, to give

the workers a share in executive responsibility. will simply result in

the dilemma of a conflict of roles for the workers’ representatives.

The plausibility of Clegg’s arguments was undeniable. Both the Labour

Party and the TUC have accepted them and repeated them in recent

declarations of policy such as Public Enterprise, 1957. We may,

apparently, hope and work for improved forms of joint consultation but

the two side of industry — employer and employed, management and labour

— are to remain as a permanent and inescapable feature of industrial

organisation. Until eternity, it seems, the destined role of the trade

unions is to oppose management in the interests of the employees, while

at the same time supporting, wherever possible, co-operation between

management and labour in the shape of joint consultation.

There is, it must be admitted, something ironic in the situation the

industrial democrats find themselves in. It was the syndicalists and

guildsmen who raised aloft the banner of industrial freedom and

denounced the slavery inherent in the wage system. But it is their

opponents who have stolen this particular piece of thunder. It is now

the critics of workers’ representation who present themselves as the

defenders of industrial freedom. In stressing the opposition role of the

unions, they can claim that they are preserving the rights of the

workers vis-a-vis management, which the advocates of representation are

in danger of conceding in return for a dubious share in control.

In this unhappy situation the appearance of another book by Hugh Clegg

with the promising title, A New Approach to Industrial Democracy,[1]

encourages expectations. Perhaps here we might find a review of the

earlier approaches, a systematic analysis of their deficiencies, and an

attempt to explore a new path towards the realisation of the old ideal.

Alas, these expectations are largely unfulfilled. With one significant

exception, this ‘new approach’ leaves us very much where we are. The

bulk of the book may be put alongside other socialist revisionist

literature of recent years, all tending to demonstrate that what we have

now is almost.(but not quite) the best of all possible worlds.

Clegg’s essay had its origin in a conference organised in 1958 by the

Congress for Cultural Freedom on the subject of Workers’ Participation

in Management. Clegg draws upon the material presented in papers by

representatives from fifteen countries and part of his book,

consequently, provides a useful introduction to post-war developments in

this field in places like Germany, Jugoslavia and Israel. The rest

consists of a not very satisfactory historical review of the idea of

industrial democracy, in which the co-operative approach is wholly

ignored, and the elaboration of a theory of industrial democracy, the

principles of which, he asserts, have been gradually revealed in the

behaviour of trade unions in Western democracies over the last thirty

years.

The originality of Clegg’s contribution to discussions of industrial

democracy consists largely in this application to industry of recent

developments in the theory of democracy. As formulated by 18^(th) and

19^(th) century radicals, democracy was seen as essentially a system of

self-government, a mechanism by which the people themselves, either

directly or indirectly, through representatives, made the decisions they

had to obey. This classical theory, in its representative form, placed

emphasis on the importance of elections and on majority decisions which

were to be taken as the practical expression of ‘the will of the

people’. The theory rested on individualistic and rationalistic

assumptions and made no provision for groups in the political process.

Partly as a consequence of the questioning of its individualistic and

rationalistic assumptions in the light of increased psychological and

sociological knowledge and, more especially, as a result of the rise of

mass dictatorships in the 20^(th) century using representative elections

as plebiscites to justify their claims to express the will of the

people, theorists in recent decades have rejected as inadequate the

notion of democracy as self-government. In any large-scale organisation,

they have pointed out, self-government is no more than a myth: the

important decisions are inevitably taken by the few, not by the many.

Wanting above all to distinguish Western political systems from the

bastard ‘true democracies’ of Fascism or the ‘people’s democracies’ of

the Soviet bloc, some of them have seized upon the existence of

legitimate opposition as the key concept of democracy. More recently, to

this has been added the notion of a free play of independent pressure

groups all seeking to influence government decisions and taken as a

whole, providing a neat balance of social forces in which individual

rights and liberty are maintained. Organised party opposition and

pressure groups ensure, it is claimed that the few who do, and must,

take decisions will not act arbitrarily: hence the system can justly be

called responsible democracy.

Using this kind of intellectual apparatus, Clegg argues, in effect, that

the older industrial democrats were pursuing an impossible ideal:

industrial self-government. However, if we abandon the notion that

democracy means self-government and realise that ‘the essence of

democracy is opposition’, then industrial democracy becomes a live

possibility. And, what is more, when we look at industrial organisation

in Western countries, we find that we have already achieved industrial

democracy! “In all the stable democracies there is a system of

industrial relations which can fairly be called the industrial parallel

of political democracy. It promotes the interests and protects the

rights of workers and industry by means of collective bargaining between

employers and managers on the one hand and, on the other, trade unions

independent of government and management. This could be called a system

of industrial democracy by consent, or pressure group industrial

democracy, or democracy through collective bargaining.”

Starting from this new conception of democracy it is not surprising to

find that the three main elements in Clegg’s theory of industrial

democracy are: (i) that trade unions must be independent both of the

state and of management, (ii) that only the unions can represent the

industrial interests of workers, and (iii) that the ownership of

industry is irrelevant to industrial democracy.

As a result of his survey of foreign experience, Clegg is prepared to

qualify a little the first two principles. The German system of

‘Co-determination’ in which the workers elect one-third of the members

of the Supervisory (not Management) Boards of firms and in which Works

Councils have the right to exercise ‘co-determination’ over a wide range

of matters, such as times of starting and finishing, training schemes,

payment by results and hiring and firing, has not, apparently,

undermined the position and influence of the trade unions. Nor, it

seems, does the Histradut, the Israeli trade union federation which is

that country’s largest industrial concern, find itself in an impossible

position because it is both a management and a trade union body. This

suggests. that British trade unions could adopt a much less narrowly

restricted view about their need for independence from management than

they have done in the past. Independence from government is another

matter.

Clegg is clearly sceptical about the large claims made for the Jugoslav

system of ‘workers’ control’. The Workers’ Councils there may be less

dominated by the Communists than is sometimes supposed but the, latter’s

influence is pervasive. In Clegg’s judgment, the Jugoslav trade unions

lack sufficient independence to be considered adequate instruments for

defending the interests of the workers. Despite their break with Moscow,

the Jugoslavs have not abandoned the Marxist assumption that in a

‘workers’ state’ there can never be any difference of interests between

the workers and the government.

Although German and Israeli experience suggest that the trade unions

generally could, without danger, adopt a more positive role towards

participation in management Clegg doubts whether in practice German and

Israeli workers have more influence in industrial decision-making than

British or U. S. A. workers. Co-determination is more appropriately seen

as a way of extending the pressure group influence of the workers when

they lack a strong trade union movement. The whole tenor of Clegg’s

argument, in fact, is against the idea of ‘participation in management’.

In this respect, he has shifted away from the position he took up in

1951. He is no longer an enthusiast for joint consultation as a method

of achieving industrial democracy. Joint consultation has not fulfilled

the hopes of its protagonists: it is no more than ‘an occasionally

useful adjunct to existing practices’.

The weakness of Clegg’s whole position is most clearly seen in his

discussion of the third element of his theory — the irrelevance of

public ownership to industrial democracy. Its irrelevance is, of course,

a simple consequence of the theory of democracy he adopts. If all that

industrial democracy means is a system of collective bargaining in which

the trade unions act as influential pressure groups, opposing management

in the interests of their members, then clearly ownership is irrelevant.

One is as likely to get it in private as in public enterprise. This

principle of Clegg’s, which ties in so neatly with current revisionism,

is a curious perversion of the argument of the older industrial

democrats. The latter argued, correctly, that public ownership in itself

would make no essential difference to the workers’ status. At the best.

it would simply involve a change of masters; at the worst, it would

result in a more tyrannical master, since the State would be a more

powerful boss than any private capitalist. From this, they concluded

that the workers must become their own masters. They did not conclude

that ownership was irrelevant but only that it was not a sufficient

conditions of industrial democracy. The abrogation of the rights of

private capitalists still remained a necessary condition, in so far as

ownership carried with it the right to control.

The validity of Clegg’s theory depends upon his conception of democracy.

Even if we accept that Western political systems are properly to be

described as democratic, it is doubtful whether the ‘essence’ of these

systems lies in the existence of opposition. Their essence, if anything,

lies in their maintenance of a system whereby, through elections, the

mass of citizens can turn out of office one set of political leaders and

put in another. Opposition only comes into the picture as a consequence

of free competition among the political elite who are out to win

sufficient votes to put their ‘team’ into office. And even then the

system would not be described as democratic unless the mass of citizens

had equal political rights, symbolised by the right to vote. Modem

industry, with its machinery of collective bargaining. provides no

parallel to this, The political system we find in industry is, on the

contrary, one in which the government (the management) is permanently in

office, is self-recruiting, and is not accountable to anyone, except

formally to the shareholders (or the State). At the same time, the vast

majority of those who are required to obey this permanent government

have not citizenship status at all, no right to vote for the leaders who

form the government. The only rights that the masses have in this system

are the right to form pressure groups (trade unions) seeking to

influence the government and the right to withhold their co-operation

(the right to strike). Such a political system might be called

pluralistic; it is not totalitarian; and, if the pressure groups are

effective, the powers of the government will be limited. But it no more

deserves to be called democracy, old style or new style, than does the

oligarchical political system of 18^(th) century Britain.

One is forced to conclude that Clegg has obscured not illumined the

concept of industrial democracy. The one big redeeming feature of the

book, however, is his somewhat grudging espousal of the idea of the

collective contract. This idea, put forward by the syndicalists and

guildsmen as part of a policy of encroaching control, championed for

decades by the French writer Hyacinthe Dubreuil[2], was recently revived

by the late G. D. H. Cole in his The Case for Industrial Partnership.

1957. In essence, the collective contract system involves the division

of the large work group into a number of smaller groups each of which

can undertake a definite identifiable task. Then, instead of each worker

being paid individually, each group enters into a collective contract

with the management. In return for a lump sum sufficient to cover at

least the minimum trade union rate for each individual, the group would

undertake to perform a specified amount of work, with the group itself

allocating the various tasks among its members and arranging conditions

to suit its own convenience. Such an arrangement as Cole correctly

argued, would have the effect of “linking the members of the working

group together in a common enterprise under their join’ auspices and

control, and emancipating them from an externally impose discipline in

respect of their method of getting the work done”.

Clegg’s support for the collective contract idea is, perhaps, surprising

in the light of his general position. He sees it, however, not as par of

a strategy for winning complete control but rather as a way of

satisfying in some measure the aspiration for industrial self-government

without challenging management. Management. he asserts, is indispensable

in modern industry but there may be areas of industry in which

management is unnecessary. It is in such areas that the collective

contract system becomes a possibility. This is a curious approach to the

subject, since clearly a self-governing group working under a collective

contract system does take upon itself some functions usually regarded as

managerial, albeit those of ‘lower’ rather than of ‘higher’ management.

Clegg’s inability to see this is a consequence of his failure to analyse

the functions of management. Had he done so, his assertion that

‘management is necessarily separate from the workers’ would have been

revealed as either a tautology or simply an obscure way of stating that

(higher) management in modern industry is a specialised and

indispensable function — propositions from which nothing can be deduced

about the impossibility of industrial democracy in the traditional

sense. For the question is not whether management is necessary but who

shall appoint the managers and to whom shall they be responsible. If

there must be a hierarchy of authority in a complex industrial

organisation, there is nothing in the nature of management which

precludes it from being a democratically based hierarchy — as are the

hierarchies in co- operative factories.

For the anarchist who objects to all hierarchies of authority, including

democratic ones, the attraction of the collective contract idea lies in

the possibility that it could lead to a breaking down of the

hierarchical organisation of industry and its replacement by a system of

mutually co-operating functional groups knit together by contracts. In

the long run, if the idea were fully developed, management might be

reduced to the position of being just one other co-operative group

within the larger enterprise, enjoying the same status as the others,

but specialising in the functions involving control of the product,

investment, control of raw materials (buying) and control of the

finished produce (selling).

With this perspective, it is encouraging to learn that the collective

contract is not merely an idea: it is already, in a small way, being

practised in the Durham coalfield. A full report of this experiment is

to be published in the forthcoming book by E. L. Trist and H. Murray,

Work Organisation at the Coal Face. Meanwhile, Clegg’s quotation from a

paper by Trist must suffice as an outline description:

“In one coal-face unit recently studied by my colleagues and myself … a

team of 41 miners undertook the responsibility of providing for the

manning of the works groups on each of three shifts of just under eight

hours. As a group, they accepted complete responsibility for this in

such a way that there would be sharing between group members of jobs

with different degrees of satisfaction and difficulty. Since the group

were on a single collection payment agreement no questions arose over

differential rates of pay. In developing their systems· of rotating

members from shift to shift the initial interest of the group was to

avoid the unfairness of a man being tied for a prolonged period — or

even permanently — to an unpopular night or afternoon shift; they

especially wished each to have an equal share of the ‘good’ day shift.

Each man could also, when his turn came, have some choice with respect

to which of the two unpopular shifts he would prefer on a particular

occasion.

Later on, within each sub-group of 20, there developed a further system

not of shift but of job rotation. Flexibility was provided within a

basic pattern, and certain crucial jobs were shared amongst those best

suited to them. This acceptance of responsibility for self-regulation of

shift and job rotation has persisted throughout the life of this

particular coal face — over two years at the present time.”

In discussing the implications of this experiment, Clegg raises the

question whether the collective contract could be generally applied as a

means to industrial democracy. He suggests that there may be limitations

on its general applicability but his main conclusion is: “It is

impossible to be certain how far the transfer of managerial functions to

self-governing groups of workers could be taken in modern industrial

societies, because that can only be discovered by empirical

investigation, and no-one has yet tried to find out. There are

considerable technical and social obstacles. In many areas of industry

they will probably be prohibitive. My own guess, however, is that there

is room for progress before these limits are reached”.

The conclusion is cautious as becomes a Fabian. My own guess is that it

is too cautious. Seymour Melman’s recent study of worker decision-making

at Standards[3] suggests that the system could be readily applied even

in the most technologically advanced industries, The real obstacles are

social not technical. Of these perhaps one of the most important is the

conservatism of trade unions. This conservatism can be and must be

overcome. In this connection, one great advantage of the collective

contract approach to genuine industrial democracy over earlier

approaches is that it does not involve a radical change in existing

trade union organisation and practices, but only a willingness to extend

the range of collective bargaining. For as Clegg points out, “A

collective contract is clearly a form of collective bargaining, so that

areas of self-government can exist within a system of democracy by

consent.” The moral is obvious: all those who wish to go beyond the

prevailing forms of ‘democracy’ in industry would do well to concentrate

their attentions and activities in furthering the idea and practice of

the collective contract.

[1] Blackwell, Oxford, 1960, 18s. 6d.

[2] See his A Chance for Everybody, 1939.

[3] Decision-Making and Productivity, Blackwell, 1958. See also Colin

Ward’s and Reg Wright’s discussions of this book in FREEDOM, June 18,

25, July 2, 23, 30, 1960, and the articles on the subject in this issue

of ANARCHY.