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Title: Between Anarchism and Marxism
Author: Benjamin Franks
Date: 2012
Language: en
Topics: Marxism, Leninism, post-soviet, history
Source: *Journal of Political Ideologies*, Volume 17, 2012 — Issue 2. DOI: 10.1080/13569317.2012.676867

Benjamin Franks

Between Anarchism and Marxism

Abstract

This paper analyses the development of the schism between Marxism and

anarchism and explores two distinct methodological approaches to

investigating these apparently discrete ideologies: one is derived from

analytic political philosophy; the other is an adaptation of Michael

Freeden’s conceptual approach. The former views the division between

Marxism and anarchism as the result of a clear distinction in universal

principles, an account that is found to be flawed. Using the alternative

conceptual approach, this paper argues that the schism that marked the

relationship between anarchism and Marxism during the ‘short twentieth

century’ was primarily the result of the primacy Marxism gave to the

Leninist centralized structure following the Bolshevik revolution. The

revolutionary party was able to impose a more tightly controlled

interpretation of socialist principles, which marginalized and excluded

rival socialist constructions. With the decline of Leninist structures,

constellations of Marxism have arisen that, once again, actively engage

with anarchism.

1 Introduction

This paper examines the development of the schism between Marxism and

anarchism, which characterized the relationship between the two

ideologies during the ‘short twentieth century’[1] (to borrow Eric

Hobsbawm’s phrase for the period 1914–1991). In addition, it looks at

the development of collaborative interactions between anarchism and

Marxism in the subsequent 20 years, which parallel a more mutually

productive and fluid interaction before the Russian Revolution.

In analysing the development of the schism, this paper explores two

distinctive methodological approaches to investigating these apparently

separate ideologies: one method is derived from analytic political

philosophy, whilst the other is based on Michael Freeden’s conceptual

approach.[2]^(,)[3] This is done in order to show that, contrary to some

standard analytic approaches, anarchism and Marxism are not wholly

incompatible, and there are ideological constellations of anarchism and

Marxism that allow for significant productive and mutually supporting

collaborations based on shared meanings. Standard analytic[4]

philosophical (and analytic political theoretical) methods tend, with a

few exceptions, to make the assumption of an unequivocal difference

between anarchism and Marxism, with the former based on an explicit

rejection of the state, whilst the latter, following Friedrich Engels,

regards the state as playing a pivotal social emancipatory role.[5] Such

analytic approaches tend to lead to the conclusion that any substantive

coalitions between Marxists and anarchists are unstable, pragmatic

responses, or based upon failures of principle, or brought about by

coercion or confusion.

Freeden’s conceptual approach, I shall argue, is a more constructive

method to investigate and assess ideologies. His method involves

identifying not just the main principles but also the adjacent and

peripheral ones, and ascertaining their underlying structure, by which

the different concepts mutually define each other. Further, this method

takes into account the role of resources, institutions or media by which

such principles are expressed. For instance, a slogan promoting racial

division has a different set of resonances if it appears on a bigoted

individual’s web-blog, than if it appears on multiple street hoardings

or as part of a discussion in a respected mainstream political media.[6]

Though the statement in each uses identical terms, and might be

interpreted by an audience in similar fashion, the impact on their

behaviour would be different.

Through conceptual analysis, which sees ideologies as structured

collections of principles that alter over time, this paper will show

that there are forms of Marxism that historically (and more

contemporarily) share similar conceptual structures to those of

particular families of anarchism. It also explains how and why major

forms of Marxism altered and became incompatible with, and hostile to,

anarchism for most of the ‘short twentieth century.’ The paper argues

that it was the adoption of the dominant hierarchical party, following

the perceived success of the Russian Revolution, as the pivotal

institution for expressing and employing Marxist principles that changed

this ideology. Whilst the relationship between anarchists and Marxists

had been impacted by earlier attempts at centralized, disciplined

representative parties, especially in the late 1880s, these had not the

impact or permanence of the development of Leninist Communist Parties,

as the earlier groupings had neither the resources nor the social esteem

of the latter.

The Communist Party was able to impose a set of restrictive

interpretations on Marxism, ones that were pro-state and largely

consequentialist. This disciplined, highly structured organization was

able to construct interpretations of other socialisms, such that these

alternatives were viewed not as potential partners but as, at best,

misguided or confused and in need of party leadership or, at worst,

anti-socialist (and counter-revolutionary). Similarly, ‘Marxism’ was

reduced to a severely restricted set of interpretations by anarchists.

This developed into a clear cleavage between the two, in which the one

defined itself against the other. The paper concludes that as the party

has declined as the main organizational form for expressing Marxist

principles, the divisions between anarchists and Marxists have

subsequently diminished, leading to greater mutual support and the

possibility of future fruitful collaborations.

That conclusion stands in contrast to accounts from Marxists, anarchists

(and not formally aligned ones), which describe the great division

occurring with the split in the First International between Marx and

Bakunin.[7] As the anarchist George Woodcock put it: ‘It was in the

conflict between Bakunin and Marx within the First International that

the irreconcilable differences between the libertarian and authoritarian

conceptions of socialism were first developed.’[8] American Marxist

scholar Paul Thomas also argues that the engagement with, and conflict

within, the International performed the ‘double service’ of creating

‘what we today know as Marxism [… and] creat[ing] Bakuninism and by

extension, to bring into being anarchism as a social revolutionary

social movement.’[9] For Thomas and Woodcock, the pre-existing personal

and doctrinal antagonisms between Marx and Bakunin solidified the

division between Marxists and anarchists. As Thomas explains, it allowed

later activists to read into the conflict, in a ‘variant of post hoc

propter hoc’ (the fallacy of assuming that a later event must have been

caused by a preceding one), the rightness of their hostility towards the

other. This post hoc reading was itself exacerbated by the Party form.

Victor Serge, for instance, in his impassioned call for his former

anarchist comrades to support the Bolshevik-led ‘dictatorship of the

proletariat,’ suggests that his former libertarian comrades are

repeating the mistake of the ‘Jura Federation.’[10] The Jura Federation

were the Swiss Bakuninist section of First International who, for Serge,

made the error of privileging decentralized power over the need for an

efficient, egalitarian central administration. Contemporary Leninists,

whilst condemning the post hoc readings of Stalinism into Marxism, also

refer back to the First International as being the basis for the split

between Marxism and anarchism.[11]

Whilst the conflict and schism within the International Workingmen’s

Association undoubtedly helped to identify distinctions within the

broader socialist movements, just as the debates between Proudhon and

Marx had done earlier, this division was far less decisive and stable

than usually presented. The totemic importance of the First

International was constructed after the event, with the rise of the

Communist Party. As discussed later, there were substantial

collaborations and non-sectarian groupings in which members would

identify themselves as ‘anarchist,’ ‘communist’ and ‘socialist’

interchangeably.

2 Standard disciplinary approaches

The analytic tradition, as Mark Philp points out, is a rich and diverse

one. It includes figures such as Ludwig Wittgenstein and Quentin Skinner

(who uses the ideas of other analytic philosophers like W. V. O. Quine

and J. L. Austin), who make similar criticisms of analytic political

philosophy to those made here: namely, that it is misguided to attempt

to find ahistorical and universal, decontested concepts.[12] However,

more standardly, as Daniel McDermott[13] and Philip Pettit[14] explain,

analytic political philosophy can be identified through its methodology

and underlying ontological assumptions:

What distinguishes the enterprise as analytical? This label is often

applied to draw a contrast with other styles of philosophy, such as

Continental and Eastern. It is also typically associated with certain

features, such as clarity, systematic rigour, narrowness of focus, and

an emphasis on the importance of reason. There are a number of different

ways to characterize it, but probably the best is that analytical

political philosophy is an approach to gaining knowledge that falls into

the same broad category as a science.[15]

McDermott’s description covers similar features to those identified by

Pettit in his criteria of analytical political philosophy: (1) knowledge

exists independently of human consciousness, (2) rational investigation

will discover it, and (3) these facts are independent of values.[16] So

through using a universal account of reason, it is possible to discover

non-ideological principles to identify and assess political traditions

(even if because of resource shortages they cannot be applied in the

same way universally).[17]

This account of political philosophy is endorsed by the anarchist

analytic philosopher Paul McLaughlin. He argues that his discipline is

marked by the ‘argumentative process’ and ‘the quest for conceptual

clarity.’[18]^(,)[19] Thus, the analytic tradition emphasizes assessing

the validity of arguments, which in turn require an uncontested

definitional foundation. By fixing the meaning of terms, it becomes

possible to demarcate clearly one political position from another. For

example, it is possible to distinguish Robert Nozick’s minimal state

liberalism (propertarianism)[20] from John Rawls’ liberalism by

clarifying and thereby distinguishing their concepts of ‘right’ and

‘liberty.’

Analytical political theorists have tended to identify a key pivotal

text or area of disputation that marks the unequivocal cleavage between

the rival theories. Thus, insightful texts, such as those by Alan

Carter,[21] Thomas[22] and McLaughlin,[23] explore the various conflicts

between Marx and the major classical anarchist thinkers with whom he

explicitly engaged: Joseph-Pierre Proudhon, Max Stirner and especially

Michael Bakunin. In the standard analytical approach, once the

differences between the rival theories are clarified, they are assessed

on the basis of their philosophical coherence, logical consistency and

morality.

A problem with the analytical approach is that it concentrates its

research on logically rigorous texts and dismisses out-of-hand

communicative forms that appear to differ, thereby producing a much

restricted canon. Many anarchist texts might assume premises about, for

example, the undesirability of capitalism, or the deficiency of single

party rule, or the necessity of particular forms of contestation of

racism or sexism. These unstated premises (enthymemes) shared by the

audience for anarchist periodicals would not be easily identifiable by

many academic philosophers, to whom the arguments would therefore appear

instantly invalid and perhaps incomprehensible. As such they would not

be considered pertinent material to be subjected to the rigours of

analytical philosophical analysis.[24]

Philosophers tend to respond in one of two ways to this difficulty to

appreciate adequately the radically different contexts in which activist

texts operate. One, hinted at by Miller,[25] but made more explicit by

Dudley Knowles[26] and McLaughlin,[27] dismisses the texts generated by

historical movements of anarchism as being too diverse, inchoate and

illogical for them to be worthy of philosophical examination. This is in

contrast, according to Miller, to Marxisms, which although diverse are

sufficiently coherent enough to ‘share a number of central

assumptions.’[28]

The second approach, following on from this dismissal of the historical

movements, is to construct a separate ‘anarchism’ based on

philosophically rigorous grounds. The philosophical version identifies a

core principle, one that distinguishes anarchism from Marxism. This

central principle is an absolute rejection of the state.[29] The state

is described solely as a unified coercive apparatus operating over a

specific geographical area.[30] Carter,[31] for instance, whose

analytical anarchism is based on G. A. Cohen’s anaemic version of

Marxism,[32] claims that Marxists regard the state as an impartial

by-product of economic-technological determining forces, whilst

anarchists regard the state as a historically acting agency incompatible

with egalitarian goals.

An alternative, first principle of anarchism is suggested by the

Hellenic scholar David Keyt. His version of anarchism sees the rejection

of the state as a consequence of a more primary principle: the absolute

respect for the negative freedom of the individual, sometimes expressed

as the absolute prohibition on coercion,[33] based on the absolute

sovereignty of the rational individual.[34] This account is also the

basis of Robert Paul Wolff’s pivotal account of philosophical anarchism,

In Defense of Anarchism,[35] and is supported by Andrew John

Simmons.[36]

‘Philosophical anarchism’ is identified with a single, universal

feature: a complete rejection of coercion. Within ‘philosophical

anarchism,’ the main debates are whether the absolute primacy given to

autonomy necessarily leads to advocacy of private property rights, such

as that proposed by propertarians (such as David Friedman and Murray

Rothbard) or whether it leads to a rejection of, or at least ambivalence

towards, property rights (for instance, McLaughlin[37] and Peter

Vallentyne et al.[38]). The second area of debate, also found

principally, but not solely, amongst the propertarians, is whether a

minimal or ultra-minimal state can be generated that meets the

voluntarist criteria.

In the first case, anarchism is distinguished from Marxism on the

grounds that the latter has identifiable principles, whilst anarchism is

little more than irrational violence. Under the second interpretation,

Marxism and anarchism are clearly distinct as the first is concerned

with laws of historical development, economic equality and the use of

state power, whilst the latter is identified with absolute autonomy and

therefore a rejection of state power.[39]^(,)[40] However, if Marxism

and anarchism are so distinct, then the significant collaborations and

intersections between Marxists and anarchists, especially before the

1917 Revolution, are hard for analytical philosophers to explain.

Examples of such collaborations include joint propaganda tours between

the anarchist Alarm with the Marxist-influenced Independent Labour

Party, Social Democratic Federation (SDF) and Fabian Societies[41] and

the regular meetings and debates between the anarchists and the SDF that

were ‘carried out in a very friendly spirit.’[42] Wilf McCartney,[43]

born in 1877, and George Cores,[44] born in 1869, were active in radical

movements over a century ago. In their memoirs, they describe the fluid

way people drifted between avowedly Marxist and anarchist movements,

often utilizing the terms ‘anarchist,’ ‘communist’ and ‘socialist’

interchangeably. Marx and Bakunin highlighted the theoretical

differences between them, as later, have scholars and many

activists,[45] yet it was the similarities between Marx and Bakunin that

inspired many radicals. Mike Lipman reports that his parents, who were

immigrant revolutionaries, had portraits of both Marx and Bakunin

displayed in their home.[46] Similarly, publishers associated with

radical movements published both Kropotkin and Marx as ‘ammunition for

socialism.’[47]

From an analytical philosophical perspective, if overt manipulation and

the use of force are ruled out, such intersections can only be due to

conceptual confusion or failure of principle or will (akrásia). Such a

perspective fails to explain why Marxists and anarchists, having acted

in solidarity despite some conceptual differences, became systematically

opposed, before particular sections once again found significant common

ground. An analysis based upon (but modified slightly from) Freeden’s

conceptual approach is better able to deal with distinctive but

identifiable variants of each ideology, and explain why, historically,

there has been consistent and effective interaction between the

supposedly rival ideologies.

3 Freeden’s ideological approach

Instead of seeking to identify fixed, necessary and sufficient

conditions, refined over time as concepts become more finely honed,

Freeden argues that ideologies are best understood in terms of the

structure of their core, adjacent and peripheral concepts. Political

concepts are the basic, central unit of Freeden’s analysis. They are

expressed through and constituted by words or other signs.[48] They are

linked together in particular structures, and concepts gain their

meaning by their relationships to other concepts. Adjacent concepts

flesh out and clarify the interpretations of core ones, restricting the

possibility of competing interpretations.[49]

To give an example from Freeden,[50] John Stuart Mill’s liberalism

contains the core concept of liberty, but it is also positioned next to

the individual and a specific type of individual in particular (one who

has sovereignty over his/her body and mind). Mill’s liberalism combines

these elements so that the concept of liberty refers to, and relies on,

the individual not the social. Liberty also includes the desired

attributes of the individual, such as the development of character.

Therefore, all three core features appear in Mills’ key account of

liberty as ‘the free development of individuality.’ Thus, it is not a

matter of one concept taking priority over the others, but of each being

defined by, and through, the others. So if, by contrast, the concept of

liberty and the core goal of self-development were placed next to a

different core principle—that of equality—then our understanding of

liberty would be altered.

Because concepts interlock, they cannot be disentangled and assessed as

free-standing, discrete entities without losing meaning. For instance,

in liberalism democracy carries with it concepts of equality (one

person, one vote) and liberty (self-rule); they cannot be disentangled

as discrete concepts as they help constitute the meaning of

democracy.[51] Within the family of an ideology, one variant might have

a different structure or morphology, which places greater emphasis or

priority on particular concepts.[52] Almost all liberalisms contain

notions of property rights, but Nozickian and Rothbardian propertarians

give them a fundamental privileged position,[53] whilst other

liberalisms tailor them against other principles of equality, welfare or

democracy.

Different types of liberalism will have different structures by which

the core, adjacent and peripheral concepts define each other.[54] Core

principles are stable, but in certain locations, one can be absent, and

yet an ideology can still be recognizable and function as such an

ideology. However, the absence of more than one core feature is likely

to alter an ideological structure fundamentally.[55]

Peripheral concepts are those that are either not central to the overall

shape of the ideology, but are nonetheless persistent features,[56] or

whose importance shifts depending on historical period and/or

geography.[57] Some peripheral concepts move from margin to core, such

as the commitment to representative democracy in conservatism, or from

core to the periphery, such as population control in ecologism. Others

can alternate between core and periphery over time, such as the

principle of street violence in fascism. Peripheral concepts become more

detailed and central in particular contexts. They help to flesh out the

meanings of core principles, by directing their interpretation.

Freeden’s example is how ‘refugee rights,’ a largely peripheral concept

in liberalism, help to clarify the meaning of liberty in particular

cultural and historical contexts.[58]

Ideologies are not discrete and closed, but permeable;[59] they

intersect with other ideologies, and as they compete and clash new

concepts will arise, which might be added to or excluded from the

ideology. The social historian Peter Linebaugh, in relation to the

development of Thomas Paine’s revolutionary political theory, highlights

that when concepts first arise in particular historical or cultural

contexts they often do so as a result of previous ideological

conflicts.[60] At their initial development stage, their meanings and

their relationship to other concepts are still ‘in the gristle,’ still

nascent, and either un- or under-recognized within ideological families.

New concepts are often either fluidly applied, or become temporarily

affixed to concepts that later are unsustainable. Ideologies are

therefore constantly evolving and changing, rather than fixed sets of

principles.

4 Modification of the conceptual approach

A few adaptations are made to Freeden’s conceptual approach. For

instance, whilst Freeden identifies political philosophy solely with the

Anglo-American analytical approach, and thus with a commitment to a

universal logos or reason,[61] the modification here uses contributions

of philosophical schools that are critical of these liberal

Enlightenment presuppositions, such as Alasdair MacIntyre’s

work.[62]^(,)[63] The first adaptation accords greater emphasis to the

role of resources such as institutions and media; the second gives

greater priority to ethical principles as key features of ideological

practices.

Freeden indicates that different ideologies operate through different

forms of institutional practice. For instance, some ideologies, like

radical forms of socialism and anarchism, plus certain constellations of

feminism and environmentalism, are capable of operating in and through

the apparatus of public protest, whilst others, like conservatism, are

largely antipathetic towards public demonstration.[64] Similarly, many

contemporary ideologies operate through the institution of the

democratic-political party,[65] whilst other ideologies, like anarchism,

oppose them. As MacIntyre explains, institutions are collections of

linked individual practices. Practices are made up out of resources that

operate according to particular structure of evolving norms,[66] and

engage particular types of agent representative,[67] to produce

particular types of internal and external good,[68] and certain types of

reasoning.[69] Thus, the slight difference between Freeden’s conceptual

approach and the analysis offered here is the greater emphasis on

resources, and how they impact on the structure of concepts and

principles and their ability (or otherwise) to intersect with other

ideological structures and practices.

Apparently identical principles will have a different structure and

therefore a distinctive set of interpretations dependent on the

different media or organizational arrangement through which they are

expressed. For instance, egalitarian environmental principles will be

interpreted differently if they are expressed through the format of an

open-access eco-camp, than if they are expressed textually in a glossy

periodical emanating from a professional charitable organization. Strong

centralized institutions can impose and restrict conceptual arrangements

to ensure greater uniformity of interpretation. Considerable resources

are spent on attempting to decontest and unify apparently conflicting or

ambiguous conceptual arrangements.[70]

The second adaption is to consider ethical values to be a core feature

of ideologies, necessary for their function, and their self-assessment

and critical evaluation from adjacent or rival ideologies. Freeden tends

to view moral values as necessarily real universals. For instance,

Freeden associates ethical analysis with the search for decontested

universal principles of orthodox political philosophy.[71] However, as

MacIntyre’s practice-based virtue ethics indicates, goods (virtues)

construct and are constructed by persistent social practices, but are

not universal and can change over time. For instance, the internal goods

of playing chess (patience, theoretical wisdom and sportsmanship) are

not structured in the same way in competitive white-water rafting: there

will still be patience and proper competitive respect, but bravery,

teamwork and practical wisdom might be more to the fore. Similarly, the

ethical values inherent in political practices alter, according to the

context. The values inherent in organizing a workplace syndicate are

different to, but consistent with, the values of occupying unused land

to turn it into a communal garden. The development of these practices,

and the ways they intersect, helps form a tradition.

5 Application to Marxism and anarchism

There is no denying that anarchism and Marxism have in the

(post-)industrialized West broadly different histories, canons and

resources. Indeed, for a significant section of the 20^(th) century,

anarchism, and to a noticeable but lesser extent Marxism, defined

themselves against the other. For instance, Guy Aldred’s Glasgow

anarchist group[72] contrasts the anti-hierarchical methods of anarchism

with the tyrannical practices of state socialism. Similarly, the

libertarian Solidarity group in their pamphlet, As We Don’t See It,

defined its socialist ideas in direct contrast to the socialisms of

social-democracy and especially the repressive, hierarchical tyrannies

of state socialism, personified by Lenin.[73] Throughout the 1980s and

1990s, the continuing totemic influence of state-socialism was so great

that anarchists still felt they needed to dedicate significant resources

to distinguishing their politics from those of the orthodox Marxist

left.[74]

In his extensive analysis of socialisms, Freeden makes few explicit

mentions of anarchisms, though he does make passing mention to Bakunin,

William Godwin and Stirner as part of the challenge to liberal

conceptions of freedom.[75] Freeden regards anarchism as straddling

ideological categories. For Freeden, the rival anarchist

traditions—individualist and social—are so distinct that it ‘may be

mistaken to lump the two schools […] under one roof, or family.’[76]

Agreeing with Freeden, this paper largely concentrates on just the

social (sometimes referred to as the ‘class struggle’) current of

libertarianism, though it largely identifies different core values from

Freeden. Miller, too, resolves the problem of the apparent lack of

shared values by suggesting multiple anarchisms.[77] However, Miller

proposes that all anarchisms share a commitment to a rejection of

coercion (without reference to the adjacent principle of contesting

hierarchy). As a result, this leads to a reductively liberal reading of

communist anarchism.[78]

Freeden proposes that there are three concepts that identify anarchism:

[F]irst—indicated in the name of this ideational cluster—antagonism to

power, culminating in the desire to annihilate it (power is decontested

as centralized and hierarchical and manifested above all, though not

exclusively, in the state); second, a belief in liberty, decontested as

spontaneous voluntarism; third, the postulation of natural human

harmony.[79]

Although this is an accurate summary of typical academic accounts of

anarchism, these are not core features of most social anarchisms.

Anarchists are not against all power: indeed, they recognize that power

can be constructive and non-hierarchical. Similarly, many main anarchist

groups do not hold that all liberty is spontaneous, instead viewing it

as sometimes premeditated and requiring co-ordination (hence they

construct institutions like social centres and formal groupings such as

syndicates).

The third core principle is another that is frequently associated with

anarchism,[80] but it is highly contentious. Whilst there are some

anarchists who view people as ‘inherent[ly] creative’ and essentially

‘critical,’[81] and who predicate their political analysis on the belief

in a shared common ‘humanity’ that is antipathetic to capitalism,[82]

this essentialism is neither common nor core to anarchism. Indeed, the

quotation from Kropotkin used by Jonathan Wolff to support the

contention that anarchism rests on a benign essentialism actually states

the opposite: ‘No more laws! No more judges! Liberty, equality and

practical human sympathy are the only effective barriers we can oppose

to the anti-social instincts of certain amongst us.’[83] Kropotkin is

clear that humans have both social and anti-social instincts. Kropotkin,

as made clear in his Ethics,[84] argues only that the people have the

capacity to act benevolently, as opposed to the malign essentialism of

certain social Darwinists that were prominent in Kropotkin’s time.

McLaughlin, too, demonstrates that the essentialism ascribed to Bakunin

is down to fundamentally flawed scholarship.[85]

Instead, a different set of core principles for anarchism can be

identified: contesting hierarchies of power, anti-mediation and

privileging prefigurative methods. These are relatively stable and can

be found in anarchist accounts of their tactics. The first core

principle can be found in anarchists’ consistent rejection of the state

and quasi-state institutions, their opposition to capitalism as a

hierarchical social relationship and confronting power relations based

on gender or ethnic prejudice. The second is evident in anarchists’

rejection of representative democracy and privileging of direct action

by the oppressed themselves. The third core concept, prefiguration,

involves the means being consistent with the goals. It is summed up in

the rationale for rejecting the party structure that was to become

associated with Marxism, advanced by James Guillaume, a colleague of

Bakunin: ‘How could one want an equalitarian and free society to issue

from authoritarian organization? It is impossible.’[86] Prefiguration

stresses that methods that contest or avoid hierarchies of power also

create, in the here and now, accessible social goods.

The rejection of the state that is a core feature of the rejection of

hierarchy (and embodies elements of anti-mediation and prefiguration) is

not, contrary to analytical descriptions, a universal feature of

anarchism. There have been occasions when rejecting the state was pushed

from the core to a more intermediate position. For instance, during the

Spanish Civil War many anarchists chose provisionally to support the

social democratic government when confronted with the even greater

hierarchical threat of Franco’s fascism. Similarly, it is not

inconsistent for libertarians, such as Noam Chomsky, to support state

welfare or health services, where the alternative is the greater

hierarchies and oppressions of unmediated capitalism.[87] Conversely, in

the face of state-capitalist domination, such as in the former Soviet

Union, the dominance of the bureaucrats might be constrained and a more

equitable distribution of goods might occur, with the support of a black

market, thereby pushing the rejection of capitalism to a more peripheral

position.

These core anarchist concepts are: anti-hierarchy, which has closely

related principles of negative appraisal of the state and capitalism;

anti-mediation, which relies on a social view of the self as an active

agent that does not require representation by others; and prefiguration,

meaning that the means are in accordance with, or a synecdoche, of the

goals. These central principles are not identical with the core concepts

of socialism, identified by Freeden, but can be compatible with them.

The socialist principles are: ‘The constitutive nature of human

relationships, human welfare as a desirable objective, human nature as

active, equality, and history as the arena of (ultimately) beneficial

change.’[88] The issue of how these principles were derived (in terms of

selection of the ‘socialist’ canon) and whether different or modified

alternative concepts might be more suitable is a topic worthy of debate,

although not one that can be entered into here.

What is clear is that whilst there are differences, there is also

significant overlap between these broadly drawn socialist principles and

those of anarchism. An instance of this would be in the social account

of the individual, which Freeden illustrates with reference to Marx’s

Grundrisse.[89] Like anarchists, Marxists see individuals as gaining

their sense of self, and being able to produce and enjoy goods, through

their interactions with others. Similarly, there are within Marx

explicit suggestions of the same commitment to prefiguration that is

found within anarchism. Marx describes Communism not in a

consequentialist manner but as an inherent part of the process of its

realization.

Communism is for us not a state of affairs which is to be established,

an ideal to which reality {will} have to adjust itself. We call

communism the real movement which abolishes the present state of things.

The conditions of this movement result from the now existing

premise.[90]^(,)[91]

In institutions that are open to collaboration, these similarities, such

as a social, fluid view of the self and prefiguration, are highlighted

and privileged. When institutions wish to maintain control and thereby

limit the influence of other practices, these constraining institutions

emphasize their difference, making the areas of demarcation into

unbreakable, universal principles. Constellations of anarchism and

Marxism that privilege the shared concepts as core relegate differences

to the periphery and thus allow interpretations that promote sympathetic

readings of the adjacent ideologies. In these circumstances, they are

likely to construct productive alliances.[92]

6 Collaborative radicalism: 1880–1917

There were, as already indicated, considerable similarities between

British anarchists and Marxists, in their interpretations of key goals,

which allowed for significant co-operation and interchange. This is not

to deny that there were constellations of Marxism and anarchism, even in

the pre-revolutionary period, that were largely antagonistic to each

other. Before the infamous split in the First International, there was

hostility between some Marxist groups and anarchists, for instance in

the divisions between Proudhon and his followers and Marx. More

significantly, there were major conflicts between the two ideologies

over whether groups should engage in representative democracy. The split

within Jewish immigrant radical movements, in particular the setting up

of Der Arbeiter Fraint (The Workers’ Friend)—which would later become

explicitly anarchist and be edited by the anarchosyndicalist Rudolf

Rocker—and Der Polishe Yidl (The Polish Jew), was partly over the

latter’s support for parliamentary candidates.[93] Representationalism

aimed at providing a voice for the oppressed within the structures of

the state is associated with Marxism, and rejected by anarchists because

it produces a new hierarchy of the powerful representer and the denuded

represented.[94]

The privileged role of the party, before the rise of Leninist orthodoxy

within Marxism, was a major constraint on anarchist and Marxist

co-operation. Kropotkin, in a 1907 edition of his group’s newspaper

Freedom, explains how splits occurred in the wider labour movement as a

result of the development of parliamentary parties. In 1887, the

Marxist-influenced Social Democrats were interpreting their principles

as being largely consistently with anarchism:

[W]e held meetings in favour of our condemned Chicago Anarchist

brothers, the Social Democratic speakers by our side used the same

language as we did. They did the same at our Commune celebrations […

however there was a] striking and a sudden change.[95]

This change from co-operative interaction to mutual rivalry followed

further successful partnerships in organizing strikes. The successful

industrial actions were initially interpreted in the same way by

Marxists and anarchists: that the economically oppressed were capable of

organizing and running their own institutions that could challenge the

power of the dominant class and produce their own social goods.[96]

However, some socialists from within the avowedly Marxist SDF viewed the

rise of socialist ideas in the area of London’s docks as requiring

greater disciplined leadership, which in turn needed a parliamentary

party. This new party, whilst still adopting some core socialist

principles concerning equality of distribution, did so within a

structure predicated on maintaining and supporting a party hierarchy and

respect for the apparatuses of the law.[97] It sought to restructure the

principles of socialism to make them amenable to liberal, electoral

opinion, rather than to radical, anti-hierarchical groupings. As a

result, the socialist principle of equality became closely associated

with paternalistic welfare, rather than being tied to principles of

autonomy as represented by direct action. The parliamentary socialists

from the SDF began rejecting workers’ self-organization in favour of a

historical continuation of constitutional action. Such a reorganization

of principles within the medium of the parliamentary party ended up,

laments Kropotkin, in the breaking of the autonomous labour movement and

the disintegration of the campaign for an eight-hour working day.[98]

However, the parliamentary turn within the SDF that led to a division

between Marxists and anarchists was more permeable and temporary than in

the aftermath of 1917. This is because the SDF did not have the

resources to dominate the radical left as the Communist Party was able

to do later. Also, the SDF was not unified in undertaking this

organizational change: many sections of the SDF were ambiguous about,

and some rejected, the parliamentary route. In addition, there were also

many rival Marxist groupings of comparative influence who continued to

prioritize co-ordinated direct efforts with anarchists and others over

labour organizing and defending immigrants rather than constitutional

roles.[99] Thus, there was no single body capable of imposing a singular

structure of socialist concepts. ‘Socialism’ therefore remained a

sufficiently fluid constellation of principles, many forms of which

continued to be highly compatible with anarchism.

Leaving to one side the individualist sections of anarchism, like The

Egoist (which was opposed to socialism from Marxist and anarchist

groupings alike),[100] there was still significant co-operation between

Marxists and anarchists even after the split in the SDF. A handbill

produced in English by the Worker’s Friend (Der Arbeiter Fraint) for a

meeting against the Tsarist persecution of Jews in Russia included

anarchists like Kropotkin, Marx’s daughter Eleanor, as well as

parliamentarians and aspirant representatives like C.T. Ritchie,

Cunninghame Graham and John Burns.[101] This illustrated that, whilst

some of the parliamentary socialists were hoping to draw support for

their campaigns, others hoped to attract those primarily concerned with

constitutional activity into non-mediated action. On other occasions,

shared opposition to constitutionalism provided a basis for convivial

meeting and campaigning between Marxists and anarchists. There were, for

instance, continued attempts, as Freedom reports, at industrial unionism

between the various anti-parliamentary socialist movements throughout

the first decade of the 20^(th) century.[102]

Up until the Russian Revolution and even into the early years after the

Revolution, many anarchists and Marxists were often engaged in mutually

supportive initiatives. Freedom, for example, approvingly quoted

Trotsky, who a few years later would be blamed for the Kronstadt

massacre and other oppressions.[103] In 1917, the Bolshevik leadership

was praised for the way the post-revolutionary state had ended Russia’s

involvement in the First World War, and for instigating methods that

‘exactly coincide with that pursued by anarchists.’[104] However, the

apparent success of Lenin’s strategy in encouraging revolutionary action

meant that his model of political organizing was taken as the key

organizational strategy. The strong internal party discipline that had

clear, decontested political messages, that directed all activity

towards a clear set of mutually supportive strategic goals, and that

maintained the revolutionary state in Russia in order to foment similar

revolutions elsewhere impacted on the ideological construction of

Marxism.[105]

7 Development of the schism: 1917–1991

The party become central to Marxism and it became the medium by which

ideas were expressed. This resulted in a shift in Marxism’s

constellation of concepts and the emphasis each was given. With the

prestige of the revolution, and Lenin’s leadership, his interpretation

of socialism, based on the role of the state as a mediator to bring

about equality and welfare, became increasingly privileged. Alternative

interpretations, including those of anarchism, became marginalized and

rejected. This development can be identified in the British Socialist

Party (BSP) periodical The Call, which was amalgamated into The

Communist, Britain’s first Communist Party newspaper, on the BSP’s

merger with Socialist Labour Party and the South Wales Socialist Society

in 1920.

In 1916, The Call was critical of the attacks on individual freedom and

inequalities of the war, and rejected the hierarchies associated with

the nation state.[106] It spoke favourably of other socialist groups who

shared similar values,[107] reporting strikes and rent disputes that

were largely autonomous and publicized rallies by other socialist groups

like the ILP and Women’s Suffrage Federation (later to become Workers’

Socialist Federation, which would join and then quickly split from the

Communist Party).[108] It also promoted revolutionary syndicalism, a

tactic associated with anarchism[109] and just before the ‘Second

Russian Revolution’ it regarded state socialism as being no different to

‘state capitalism.’[110] However, after the October Revolution, the

paper adopted a single strategy and underlying concepts, that of the

apparently successful Bolsheviks:

The Bolsheviks have shown what Socialists, true to their principles and

adverse from all compromises can do, and gradually they are gaining the

adherence of the entire people of Russia as well as the working class

throughout the world.[111]

After the Bolshevik revolution, the goal was to replicate Lenin’s

organizational methods and adopt his analysis: ‘Russia may be different

from Great Britain, but the yoke which weighs upon the neck of the

working class is exactly the same, and the method for throwing it off is

also the same.’[112] The goal was fixed and universalized. As a result,

more complex ethical principles were reduced to a single

consequentialist goal: the justifying end being the predetermined,

unequivocal aim of Soviet-style revolution.

The party, the necessary instrument for the achievement of this end,

required complete hegemony of all revolutionary socialist groupings. As

a result, the BSP, under Lenin and Maxim Litvinoff’s (the

plenipotentiary to the Soviet Government in Britain) instruction, began

to exclude and marginalize those who did not share their structure of

values. As 1918 progressed, The Call made fewer positive references to

other socialist groups (except those it expected to join them in

creating the British Communist Party) and fewer positive mentions of

non-party actions.

The restructuring of socialist principles through the medium of the

Party also impacted on the epistemology of Marxism. To maintain the

purity of the party, Leninism increasingly relied upon the prestige of

the revolutionary leadership and the singular, apparently successful,

revolution. Shortly before the formal creation of the Communist Party,

John Bryan proclaimed the transcendent basis of the Bolshevik leadership

in almost theological terms, in an article titled ‘Man has risen,’

published in The Call:

But the Bolsheviks came, and the miracle unparalleled in human history

happened … with a daring, truly Promethean … There had never been such a

revolution in the history of mankind—a revolution on the ‘appointed’ day

by a seemingly small handful of men, every one of whom was prepared to

depart this life for the sake of life …

Russia of the proletariat and the peasants, Russia led by the

Bolsheviks, Russia guided by the transcendent genius of Lenin and

assisted by a host of workers with Trotsky, the incomparable organiser,

at their head….[113]

The principles endorsed by Lenin were universal and not open to

elaboration or addition from any alternative movement. As The Call

became The Communist, its call for party discipline became more

overt.[114] It ignored alternative interpretations of socialist

principles: for instance, the socialist writer John Tamlyn complained

that his letter criticizing The Call‘s version of Bakunin and Marx has

been declined for publication in their journal.[115] Compared to the

diverse readings on socialism in many of the pre-revolutionary socialist

papers, The Communist‘s recommended readings were entirely based on the

soviet experience of communism and revolution.[116]

By 1922, The Call‘s rejection of socialist opponents was more strident:

anarchists were ‘sneak thieves and murderers.’[117] Tactics and

organizational methods that were shared by anarchists and Marxists, such

as revolutionary syndicalism, were rejected in favour of party-building.

By 1921, such radical anti-parliamentary socialists were not worth

‘spending much time and space […] on,’ as they were the ‘Infantile

Left,’[118] a dismissive phrase lifted directly from Lenin.[119] Even

when rival socialists were attacked by capitalist states, they denied

the existence of pertinent, rival socialist discourses and movements.

For example, The Call‘s successor, The Communist, in its report on the

judicial murder of the radicals Ferdinando Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti

(who were prosecuted and convicted of a murder on flimsy and

contradictory evidence) made no mention of Sacco and Vanzetti’s

anarchist commitments.[120] This omission is particularly telling as the

initially successful prosecution used the defendants’ anarchist politics

as one of the main pieces of evidence against them (though executed,

they were posthumously pardoned in 1977). To have identified another

effective radical politics would have been in conflict with the Leninist

version of Marxism that presented itself as the only practical

alternative to capitalism.[121]

As the authority of the single party grew in Russia, anarchists who were

initially supportive of the revolution became critical of it, and

increasingly defined themselves against the Marxism of the Bolsheviks.

In the first month of 1920, Freedom, though critical of the Bolsheviks,

was still optimistic that one could compel them to ‘revise their ideas’;

it argued that it was unnecessary to ‘join a Marxist organization’ to

join in propaganda in favour of the revolution.[122] By April 1920,

Freedom‘s reports were more nuanced. It reported some atrocities in

Russia, but blamed the previous regime rather than the revolutionary

government. Anarchists spoke highly of improved working conditions, but

remained critical of the state as the dominant employer and the

restrictions on individuals’ freedom to pursue their own work.[123]

Throughout 1920, there was a continuous dialogue between the editors of

Freedom and its readers over whether Communist rule was a temporary,

justified measure, an understandable but mistaken response that is open

to alteration and change, or a fundamental betrayal of socialist

principles.[124] However, by 1921–1922, the matter was no longer

contested: Bolsheviks were persecuting anarchists and other socialists

according to respected reporters, including those such as Emma Goldman

and Alexander Berkman who had, at least initially, been sympathetic to

the revolution.[125] The regime in Russia was regarded as a tyranny, and

the structure of principles embedded within the social institutions of

the Communist Party in Russia and Britain were to be rejected

outright.[126] As Marxism became associated only with the main

orthodoxy, so anarchists began to define themselves against it, and the

terminology associated with it.[127]

Given the material resources, including the infamous ‘Russian gold’ that

helped fund domestic Communist Parties,[128] the one time substantial

membership of the Party, plus the considerable rhetorical skills of

Lenin, and the prestige he carried, core principles were largely

constrained in interpretation and capable of massive amplification.

Smaller dissident Marxist groups still existed, but were drowned out by

the Communist Party. These smaller Marxist groupings did have some

intersection with anarchism, which had also been reduced in size because

of the hegemonic victory of Leninism. These increasingly peripheral

post-revolutionary Marxist groups were almost entirely those that had

rejected the Leninist apparatus, strategy and interpretation of core

principles, such as the Council Communism of Herman Gorter and Anton

Pannekoek and Sylvia Pankhurst’s Workers Dreadnought.

8 The ends of the schism

The Leninist political structure was responsible for maintaining its

singular interpretation of Marxism, which was consequentialist and

statist and thus incompatible with anarchism. However, as the Party’s

pivotal role weakened, alternative Marxisms began to reappear. The

episodic decline of the revolutionary authority of the Communist Party

included critical events such as the betrayal of the revolution in the

Spanish Civil War (1936–1938), the Nazi-Soviet anti-aggression pact

(1939–1941), and Nikita Khrushchev’s speech at the Twentieth Conference

of the Communist Party that admitted to the abuses of Stalin’s rule,

followed by the Soviet invasion of Hungary (1956) and the Prague Spring

of February 1968. Each of these was partly produced by, and also

produced renewed interest in, alternative non-Leninist formulations of,

and practices in, Marxism. These were often associated with the

possibility of constellations that could be allied to forms of

anarchism, such as (using somewhat broad descriptors) Humanist Marxism,

new left socialism, Situationist and libertarian communist movements.

With the final decline in the authority of the Leninist strategy and the

collapse of the Soviet empire from 1989 to 1991, revolutionary

strategies based on the dominant role of the vanguard party have

declined in the UK. Even Leninists critical of the former Soviet Union

have seen their small, though culturally influential, groups decline in

numbers and impact. This has allowed for greater modification in

Marxism, especially constellations that have actively engaged with

libertarianism, such as the autonomous Marxist and other critical,

non-Leninist communist traditions (from the likes of Harry Cleaver and

John Holloway).[129] These coalitions have been a feature of successful

anti-capitalist activities, much to the annoyance of more orthodox

Marxists.[130] Some anarchists remain critical of certain features of

these developments, fearing a reduction of anarchism into Marxism,[131]

rather than a recognition of commonalities and differences. Others,

however, such as Wayne Price, highlight those characteristics of some

forms of autonomism that are still tied to state-party activity or a

political epistemology wedded to an ontological determinism.[132]

Nonetheless, many contemporary anarchists recognize that much can be

gained from a thoughtful interaction with a renewed Marxism no longer

tied to the regimented interpretations of the Leninist party.

Whilst those committed to the Leninist party structure are at the

forefront of interpreting Marxism and anarchism as necessarily rival

movements,[133] and some anarchists continue to define themselves

against the Leninist version of Marxism,[134] in a wide range of

groupings such distinctions have declined in importance. The heterodox

autonomist Marxist trend, as the Lenin-defending Paul Blackledge

critically notes, share most core principles and organizational modes of

operation, and these are a threat to the orthodox Marxist tradition that

maintains this division.[135]

9 Conclusion

This paper has explored two main ways of examining the distinction

between anarchism and Marxism, one emanating from analytic, political

philosophy; the other from the conceptual approach developed by Freeden.

In the first, the commitment to discovering universal rules, through

application of a single logos of reasoning, produces a limited account

of anarchism (‘philosophical anarchism’) reduced to a single criterion

of ‘absence of coercion’ (or is subsidiary principle ‘rejection of the

state’), which is not only distinct from Marxism but from the actual

practices of anarchist movements past and present. An alternative

approach, derived from Freeden, looks at ideologies as stable, but

adaptable core and peripheral concepts, which mutually self-define and

are expressed through institutions, practices and traditions. Using this

conceptual method of analysis, different structures of anarchism and

Marxism are identified. Within this range of ideological constellations

are forms of anarchism and Marxism that are contingently compatible.

Historically, whilst divisions persist, arising through strategic and

tactical differences, there have also been areas of commonality. There

were shared core principles, which were later shifted to the periphery.

Whilst many Marxisms in the pre-revolutionary period might have included

notions like the defence of the revolutionary state, it did not become

core until after the Bolshevik success. As a result, concepts shared by

a great number of social anarchists and Marxists, like ‘communism,’ were

not interpreted primarily through the later adjacent contested notion of

the ‘state.’ The communist goal was still ‘in the gristle.’ It was with

the apparent success of the Bolshevik Revolution that key concepts

within Marxism were defined in ways antipathetic to anarchism. Whilst

other representative and centralized parties had similarly attempted to

fix the interpretation of Marxism within a disciplined, centralized

party, these failed to dominate as they lacked the resources and esteem

necessary to discipline socialist dissenters. Similarly, as

state-centred Communist parties have gone into rapid decline,

alternative formulations now have greater space for expression and no

longer need to primarily define themselves against the previous Leninist

orthodoxy.

Acknowledgements

My thanks to Lesley Stevenson for her superhuman efforts in turning my

version of English into one that is (almost) comprehensible to others;

to the Carnegie Trust for a travel scholarship to carry our primary

research at the British Newspaper Library; to Prof. Christopher

Thornhill for his helpful and supportive suggestions; and to staff and

students at the University of Glasgow: Dumfries for their practical

criticism and encouragement, in particular Dr Stuart Hanscomb. I am also

grateful to friends and colleagues in various anarchist, Marxist and

syndicalist groups for their insights and assistance.

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[3]

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[5]

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[12]

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[16]

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[21]

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[22] Thomas, op. cit., Ref. 9.

[23]

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[42] The Anarchist: Communist and Revolutionary, 2(17), Sunday, 24

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[43]

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[44]

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[46]

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[47] See for instance, ‘Ammunition for socialism,’ The Call: An Organ of

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[48] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 48–49.

[49] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, p. 62.

[50] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 145.

[51] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, pp. 63–64.

[52] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 4; Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, p. 61.

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[54] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 86.

[55] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 86–87.

[56] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 77–78.

[57] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 78.

[58] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, p. 62.

[59] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, p. 63.

[60]

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[61] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 1–2, 36–37.

[62]

A. MacIntyre, Whose Justice, Which Rationality? (London, Duckworth,

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[63]

A. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 2^(nd) edn (London: Duckworth, 2006).

[64] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, p. 2.

[65] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, pp. 78–79.

[66] MacIntyre, op. cit., Ref. 63, p. 152.

[67] MacIntyre, op. cit., Ref. 63, pp. 187–188.

[68] MacIntyre, op. cit., Ref. 63, pp. 222–223.

[69] MacIntyre, op. cit., Ref. 62.

[70]

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[71] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 4–5, 28.

[72]

G. Aldred, ‘Against terrorism in workers’ struggle’, in Studies in

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[73] Solidarity, As We Don’t See It (London: London Solidarity, 1967).

[74] See, for instance, J. Barr, ‘Question Marx,’ Heavy Stuff, 4 (1991);

Class War, 73 (1997), pp. 10–12; Trotwatch, Trotwatch: An Anarchist

Commentary on the Left (Nottingham: Trotwatch, 1992); Virus: An

Anarcho-Socialist Magazine, 1 (1984), pp. 1, 7–10.

[75] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 311–314.

[76] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 311.

[77] Miller, op. cit., Ref. 25, p. 14; also R. Kinna who also argues

that there is no single unified account of anarchism which can cover

individualists, egoists and socialists, and that only by looking at

their histories and actions can anarchist ideas be properly

conceptualized (Anarchism: A Beginners Guide (Oxford: Oneworld, 2005),

pp. 1–38).

[78] Miller, op. cit., Ref. 25, pp. 45–59, 169–183.

[79] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2., p. 312.

[80] See Knowles, op. cit., Ref. 22; Wolff, op. cit., Ref. 5.

[81]

J. Gore, ‘In the eye of the beholder—Child, mad or artist,’ in J.

Purkis and J. Bowen (Eds), Changing Anarchism: Anarchist Theory and

Practice in a Global Age (Manchester: Manchester University Press,

2004), pp. 146, 156.

[82]

Q. Graeber, in J. Goaman, ‘The anarchist travelling circus: Reflections

on contemporary anarchism, anti-capitalism and the international

scene,’ in Purkis and Bowen (Eds) op. cit. Ref, 81, p. 165.

[83]

Q. Kropotkin, in Wolff, op. cit., Ref. 5, p. 29.

[84]

P. Kropotkin, Ethics: Origins and Development (Montreal: Black Rose,

1992).

[85] McLaughlin, op. cit., Ref. 23, p. 4.

[86]

Q. W. Guillaume, in M. Bakunin, Marxism, Freedom and the State

(London: Freedom Press, 1984), p. 7.

[87]

N. Chomsky, ‘Chomsky on Ron Paul,’ Anarchismtoday.org, Sunday, 2

December 2007, available at

http://anarchismtoday.org/News/article/sid = 74.html (accessed 16

May 2010).

[88] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, pp. 425–426.

[89] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 2, p. 426.

[90]

K. Marx and F. Engels, German Ideology (Moscow: Progress, 1976), p. 57.

[91] Christopher Garland discusses this in his paper ‘A dual-power

situation? Communization and the materiality of anti-power,’ Taking

Control Conference, 12 March 2011, available at Backdoor Broadcasting

Company,

http://backdoorbroadcasting.net/2011/03/christian-garland-a-dual-power-situation-communization-and-the-materiality-of-anti-power/

(accessed 6 June 2011).

[92] Freeden, op. cit., Ref. 3, pp. 63–64.

[93]

W. Fishman, East End Jewish Radicals 1875–1914 (London: Duckworth,

1975), p. 151.

[94] See Bakunin, op. cit., Ref. 86, pp. 35–39.

[95]