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Anti-Wagenknecht

Wagenknecht’s successes represent a dark day for the German left.


26/06/2024

The New Left Review’s recent decision to platform the German politician Sahra Wagenknecht has been controversial, to put it mildly. Wagenknecht’s party, the Bündnis Sahra Wagenknecht, breaks with much of the German political spectrum. Borrowing from the Left party, with whom she was formerly affiliated, she is vocally critical of neoliberal capitalism; she is also opposed to Germany’s growing role as an arms exporter. On immigration, on the other hand, she freely borrows from right-wing rhetoric, playing into traditional right-wing anxieties about “parallel societies”. Perhaps uniquely on the German political spectrum, Wagenknecht is entirely unafraid of being critical of Israel, calling out both German arms sales to Israel, and all the forms of state repression that critique of Zionism is met with in Germany. By claiming that her positions are consensus with the majority of Germans, Wagenknecht is able to position herself as a hypocrisy-free, tell-it-like-it-is politician, attracting voters from all over the spectrum. Wagenknecht’s 2024 EU electoral debut has been immensely successful: her party have secured 6.2% of the vote, compared to Die Linke’s dismal 2.7%.

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The controversy around Wagenknecht being platformed by the NLR largely revolves around her active endorsement of socially conservative positions: on migration, on LGBT rights, on the environment. As with most such voices, she couches her positions in the language of Common Sense, and emphasises the need to “meet people where they are”. To some dubious credit, she is at least honest about holding these positions. Whether she sincerely subscribes to them, or merely adopts them as the authentic will of the German people, is as yet somewhat unclear.

On the face of it, Wagenknecht seems like a fairly run-of-the-mill right-wing cultural figure when she rants about the woke left (“lifestyle leftists”), playing up tired caricatures of the left as single-mindedly obsessed with virtue signalling over their hatred of cis white men. What Wagenknecht excels at, however, is couching her most reactionary political positions in left-wing language. Ultimately, this is what makes her dangerous. Today, the left is in deep crisis, and this crisis makes it easy to fall for simplistic narratives that promise easy solutions to capitalist stagnation. It is critical to look beyond these narratives to the reality of the world that politicians like Wagenknecht promise to build.

Wagenknecht’s linguistic sleight of hand is strongest when she talks about immigration, criticising migration systems under neoliberalism, rather than migrants. Her solution, of course, is tighter borders and better policing of migrants — the wholesale adoption of far-right policies. None of this is to say that critiques of migration under neoliberalism are automatically invalid; on the contrary, they grow increasingly relevant with capitalist decline and the climate crisis. Yet Wagenknecht, critiquing the “hollowness of neoliberal immigration policies”, blames these policies for open borders – a phenomenon that exists effectively nowhere. This is playing fast and loose with reality. Neoliberal migration systems, rather, tend to represent the exact opposite, being characterised by a selective permeability that deems certain forms of movement to be worth more than others. Migration under neoliberalism is managed to suit capitalist accumulation, to threaten wages, and – above all – to suppress labour movements through the enforcement of border regimes that leave migrants in a permanent state of fear for their legal status.

One of the unfortunate side-effects of neoliberalism being rather vaguely defined is that it allows Wagenknecht, like many of her contemporaries, to transform it from a set of economic and political decisions into a foil: defined as precisely that which she is not, rather than as an actually-existing-ideology. When Wagenknecht herself must adopt neoliberal positions, neoliberalism simply becomes something else.

Moving past the economic, Wagenknecht takes special exception to “parallel societies […] as in Sweden or France” describing her desire to “avoid a spiral of mutual distrust and hostility”. But this analysis of (German) society is deeply fatalistic, and ignores how societally conditioned xenophobia is, through a myriad cultural institutions. The assumption that there exists a bar beyond which societies are threatened by multiculturalism (and that Germany has approached this point) is based on false premises, both historically and geographically. Contemporary notions of ethno-cultural homogeneity are, by and large, a byproduct of the emergence of nation-states under capitalism. Ethnic homogeneity has simply never been the norm before the modern era. In a more contemporary context, it is important to highlight the source of German concerns around migration. At the peak of the refugee crisis, the city of Istanbul had more Syrian refugees than the entire European continent. This is not to say that Turkey has necessarily handled its own crisis particularly well — but the instinct to believe that Germany is “full” is not an organic one. Rather, these concerns are actively manufactured, by the likes of publications like Bild, and by the German political establishment, that has grown exceedingly comfortable with scapegoating Arab migrants as an intrinsically dangerous, antisemitic threat to German society.

Both Marxist and liberal theories of nationalism cite the utility of a homogenous national identity to a domestic bourgeoisie: it allows for the subjugation of the working class, under the belief that at least they are being oppressed by their people. This is a dynamic that Wagenknecht appears to be entirely comfortable with, when she refers to the opposition between smaller domestic firms and big MNCs, as “as important as the polarity between capital and labour.”

Wagenknecht is at least correct in pointing to the housing crisis being a major factor enabling contemporary German xenophobia. While the crisis is far from unique to Germany, the discourse surrounding the socialisation of housing and construction is perhaps better developed in Germany than anywhere else in Europe, due to the successes of Berlin’s Deutsche Wohnen & Co. Enteignen referendum bid. And while Wagenknecht has spoken positively of the campaign in the past, she has done so only in passing – a tweet here, an approving nod there. When the campaign is upheld as an example of successful organising and mobilisation on the left, she chooses – rather than trying to build momentum through their successes – to rant about the rest of the woke left.

Europe’s migration crisis is largely a housing crisis, a crisis that would remain even if migration were to reach a net zero. When Wagenknecht chooses to play up petty German nationalism, resorting to simplistic “fuck off we’re full”s rather than meaningfully address the very material stagnation in affordable housing, she is making a conscious choice – profits over people.

***

One might, at a stretch, be able to overlook Wagenknecht’s social chauvinism, were she committed to genuine leftist politics elsewhere. One could make the case that her social chauvinism is all an electoral ruse anyway. After all, people seem to be drawn to socially conservative positions in times of economic crisis, and if Wagenknecht truly believes that she can herald in an economic miracle, she might just be talking the talk. But Wagenknecht’s economic dreams are not going to usher in the era of growth she seems to believe they will. Far too often, she slips into the easy politics of nostalgia.

In the New Left Review, Wagenknecht comes across as particularly invested in upholding the idea of the German Mittelstand as the worthy capitalists of yore. To her, the Mittelstände would have generated economic splendour for Germany in perpetuity, were it not for the meddling neoliberals, the SPD. And here lies yet another of her fundamental misunderstandings of neoliberalism and its history. The deindustrialisation of western economies, the globalisation of supply chains, and the positioning of finance capital to capture value created within them has been part and parcel of capital’s renewed onslaught on labour in the global North, precisely encapsulated by neoliberalism. But the advent of neoliberalism was not a perversion of good, honest capitalism, imposed from above by evil, scheming politicians like Reagan or Thatcher (or Schröder in Germany, we are told). Rather, it was a natural response to a very genuine crisis in industrial capitalism. While the precise mechanisms and root causes of the crisis are subject to debate, the broader ideas are less controversial: the rapid growth of global industrial capacity and international competition led to a subsequent collapse in the prices of industrial goods, leading to shrinking rates of profit within the industrial sector, leading to the breakdown of the post-war compromise between capital and the labour movement. 

Ultimately, it is historically and analytically incorrect to paint the processes of commodification and financialisation that neoliberalism represents, as being somehow dialectically opposed to industrial capitalism — they are two sides of the same coin, the coin being capital itself. The seemingly “clean” capitalism that existed in the post-war global North found material support in the subjection of the global South to a far dirtier, more expropriative capitalism. Neoliberalism represents the reflexisation, or the turning-inwards, of these very processes.

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It is worth pointing out that Wagenknecht has simply never claimed to be an anticapitalist, and that her politics are, at best, a form of conservative social democracy. But the socdem fantasy to which Wagenknecht wishes to return is a relic of the past. Post-war Germany represented a very specific form of capitalist organisation, and while the titans of German industry sang the paeans of the Mittelstände for decades, contrasting them to large American conglomerates, these distinctions are meaningless in an era with globally collapsing profit rates and deindustrialisation. Wagenknecht points out, for instance, how German capitalists tended to reinvest their profits, rather than engage in stock buybacks. But in doing so, they were simply being rational economic actors in an era with sky-high returns on investment, and a captive American market for German products. Conflating this with some sort of moral superiority to modern corporations is absurd: we live in a very different economy today than we did even two decades ago. 

Today, Wagenknecht seems to envision a world in which Chinese consumers, enticed by the brand value of German manufacturing, would act as another massive market for the goods that the Mittelstände pump out – all while Germany remains supremely unperturbed by Chinese industry. But brand value and intellectual property can only go so far. In an age of industrial overcapacity, price-based competition is inevitable, and China’s ability to leverage economies of scale, cheap wage labour, and increasing amounts of robotisation make one thing perfectly clear: capital has no use for German industrial expansion.

It is possible to take a charitable stance here and argue that Wagenknecht exaggerates her affinity for small business in an effort to attract votes. This is a failed strategy: her precious Mittelstände are far too wary of her, because they are genuinely rational actors who would happily abandon the “virtues” she ascribes to them in search of higher profits. Thus, if both her social and her economic positions are cynically embellished, what precisely remains? When all is said and done, Wagenknecht’s politics boils down to the politics of nostalgia—she scratches the itch longing for a return to the simpler era of the 70s, where men were men, the Bosch factory was the Bosch factory, and the only foreigners around were a few Gastarbeiter (emphasis on Gast). How do we engage with this fantasy?

A good start would be to acknowledge that these yearnings for the past will amount to very little. The post-war exception was the exception, and capitalism with a human face will not return to the west. Rather than ceding ground to the increasingly desperate efforts of social democrats to orchestrate the return of German industry under capitalist conditions, the left should spend its energies discussing liberation from the profit motive. The decommodification of housing provides an excellent starting point, considering how much work civil society has already put into it. Germany’s large-scale industrial transition to green energy, too, is critical: but the profit-driven German bourgeoisie have proven (and shall continue to prove) to be utterly useless at bringing about this transition.

***

The Antideutsch current of leftism is infamous in Germany for their subscription to very specific readings of Adorno and the Frankfurt School, bleeding into their seemingly unconditional solidarity with Israel and the United States of America. This has led to a uniquely German phenomenon, where parts of the left play up racist caricatures of Arabs as dangerous antisemites. One particular reading the Antideutsch subscribe to, building off the work of Canadian philosopher Moishe Postone, casts antisemitism as a form of foreshortened anti-capitalism—a rebellion against the abstract, against the domination of capitalist relations, combined with upholding, the honest, trans-historic nature of concrete industrial labour. In Nazi Germany, the former (through historical contingency) came to be personified by Jews, and the latter by Aryan Germans.

Postone’s analysis suffers from numerous stumbling blocks. Yet, his framing of this foreshortening of anti-capitalism is a useful analytical tool. Ultimately, capitalism represents a very specific mode of production, governed by the reduction of social labour into the value-form, with historically specific relations of production. The elimination of the “dishonest” spheres of capitalism will not lead to emancipation from capital, for these spheres are essential to capital in the first place, industrial or otherwise. Wagenknecht falls into precisely such a modern foreshortening of anti-capitalism, by centering her incomplete rebellion against a foggy neoliberalism instead of against the broader spectrum of capitalist relations themselves. Her cynical use of anti-migrant rhetoric to try to signal some grand exorcism of the spectre of this neoliberalism will not usher in a more “humane” capitalism. Instead, it merely serves to reinforce the far-right attribution of the evils of an increasingly brutal, expropriative capitalism onto the figure of the migrant. And in doing so, she pushes German society further onto dangerously thin ice.

(all direct quotes in this article are taken from the NLR interview)

LIMBO – A living room without walls

Madalena Wallenstein de Castro describes her project that will be shown during 48h Neukölln

Madalena Wallenstein de Castro is a Berlin artist focusing on social themes in the city, specifically the trials faced by people experiencing houselessness. Her art installation will be featured during 48h Neukölln, from the 28th – 30th of June as well at Karuna Kompass on the 6th of July. More information on the program of both events is below and you can find out more about her work at: www.madawallen.com or on her Istagram page, @wallen_de_castro.

Thematic focus of the project

This work is the result of a daily confrontation with a social problem that has bothered me for a long time because I have always lived in places where it could not be ignored. Houseless people are harshly discriminated against and become therefore invisible, which has always bothered me a lot. This was the essential impulse for me to dedicate myself to these issues with an artistic project.

Stillness – a need and a right

Berlin is probably not the place that best represents stillness. By definition, a city is a place of flurry, where billions of people simultaneously trace their paths through urban space – a moving mass that constantly flickers, a loud diversity of voices that makes the city what it is.

It is easy to get lost in this mass if you cannot find silence – it can quickly become too loud. Stillness becomes a place of longing and thus plays an essential role in urban life: it can hold up the (imaginary) walls of privacy when you need it and help you to find yourself. A place of quietness is a place of protection. Everyone has the right to this protected space, but the access to it is limited.

Apart from building houses, urban planning and architecture aims to create places where stillness can be found outside the private sphere. However, whose stillness is considered here?
Unfortunately, the urban landscape is not inclusive for everyone. When you do not have walls around you, privacy blends with public space and tranquillity remains just a desire.

Houselessness is a problem that we encounter on a daily basis, but which many of us prefer to ignore. This issue is not taken seriously politically nor socially. Often people are simply moved from place to place and forced to live in a parallel world, hidden from the rest of normality, suspended in a state of vagueness.

The reasons for houselessness, as well as that ways to deal with it, are very diverse and should not be generalised. They are structural problems caused by many factors that characterise capitalism: As a system that thrives on the ideology of productivity and economic exploitation, capitalism excludes many people who cannot cope with the strict rules of behaviour in society. Its structure is not only a form of exclusion of individuals from so-called normality, but also includes and results from a marginalisation that takes place on multiple levels. Inside an intersectional structure, factors such as gender, class or race play a very important role in this – the layered complexity of the whole issue should therefore not be lost.

FINTA* without walls

FINTA* people experiencing homelessness face additional challenges because they are oppressed by a patriarchal structure. They are highly stigmatised by a discourse of guilt, which leads to dehumanisation, and therefore they hide more and become even more invisible in everyday life than others, who do not have to face this specific oppression. So it is important that the stories and voices of unhoused FINTA* people become better known and that is why I decided to dedicate my project to them.

The term FINTA* refers to people who are discriminated against in the patriarchy. It includes all people who describe themselves as women; intersex people (possibly diverse as a registered gender); non-binary people (nonbinary, enby for short), trans and transgender people (trans men, trans women and trans non-binary people) or agender. I deliberately opted for FINT* and not FLINTA* because for me there is a difference between sexual orientation (LGB*) and gender identity (FINT*).

In conversations with affected people, I learned that, for example, daily hygiene is usually not possible, which could lead to infections. In addition, menstruating people have hardly any support for intimate hygiene products or painkillers for cramps. Again, rest and stillness also play an important role here – on the street, people who menstruate have no place to which they can retreat to recover.

For now, my project focuses on the perspectives of three women, Janet, Habibi and Janita, who accepted my invitation to work with them. As this project will be continued, my interest is to find more queer perspectives on the same theme.

Hostile architecture – a form of marginalisation

In theory, urban planning should be concerned with the development of programmes that improve the quality of life of the population in the city. This refers to spatial and social structures that take into account the needs (including the need for stillness) of all citizens.

In practice, however, the meaning of “needs of all citizens” is questionable – urban planning is still very discriminatory on many levels. A clear example of this is hostile architecture. It is designed, funded and implemented with the explicit motive of exclusion and its main aim is to produce a sense of security through social control. Its main purpose is to exclude houseless people from certain public spaces. This is achieved not only through spatial interventions such as spikes on the ground or the use of chemicals, but also through the installation of incessant music, which prevents peace and quiet in public spaces.

Yet the most common objects are benches made of unpleasant materials such as concrete or plastic, with armrests or so short that it is impossible to rest or sleep for any length of time. The formal research for the creation of the first object of this project was based on this urban phenomenon.

Addiction – a consequence of marginalisation

Addiction is one of the most obvious faces of this problem. Contrary to what many people think, it is more often a consequence than the cause of someone being unhoused. Life on the streets is hard and gets easier if one is numb. The logic behind it is that simple. Because most people cannot understand this logic, people with addiction problems are punished and criminalised, which doesn’t solve the problem at all.

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), addiction is defined as a disease and should be treated through various methods such as therapy. Solutions can only be found by recognising the needs of addicts. Here too, social judgement mechanisms (shame and guilt) make it difficult to deal openly with the problem and drive those affected into isolation and invisibility.

Melania and The Divine Comedy

Melania has been living on the streets of Berlin for a long time and is severely addicted to drugs. She is one of the many people I meet in my everyday life, who made me start this project. We met in an underground station and through our daily contact, I discovered that she knows The Divine Comedy by heart because she often quotes parts of it in the middle of conversations.

The poetic text by Dante Alighieri tells of a journey through three otherworldly realms: hell (Inferno), purgatory (Purgatorio) and paradise (Paradiso). At the door of the infernal realm there is a place called Limbo. In classical mythology and in Dante’s poem, Limbo is located in the underworld and functions as an enclosure of hell. This is where those who have not been baptised Catholic are sent – they are punished for something for which they are actually not guilty. In other words, they are being marginalised. In the text, as an institution, the church has the power to decide to whom certain rights are applied. This reflects a logic of punishment that is so strongly characterised by the capitalist society that divides us into good and bad. For me, the logic described in the work by Dante and the logic under which many people are marginalised on a daily basis is the same, and they reflect each other.

Besides this, the term limbo also stands for concepts such as margin, oblivion, negligence or the status of obscurity and, in my opinion, describes the situation of unhoused. LIMBO has thus become the title of my work.

Aims and realisation of the project

With this project, I am trying to build bridges between unhoused people and those with a safe roof over their heads. One of the main aims of this project is to make those visible who are far too often overlooked.

The research for this work is mainly based on personal contacts with affected people, other artists, scientists and activists who deal with the topic. Networking is therefore a very important part of the work. Through interviews with different unhoused people, I try not only to better understand the problem, but also to portray the diversity of voices and faces of this problem. The interviews also play an important role in my formal research. “What should your living room look like if you had one?” is the question whose answer influences the design of my installation.

LIMBO is a long-term project that I have divided into three parts. The first part is an invitation to exchange. A place – an installation in the form of a living-room – where people can discuss the topic. The next steps of the project will be developed slowly one by one and will always be related to each other. My plans for the second and third part are still merely ideas about how the project can continue to unfold.

In the second part, I will focus more deeply on defensive architecture and try to create a critical discourse about it with various interventions in public space.

In the third part, the interviews and conversations that have been taking place continuously since the start of the project shall be used as material for a podcast. To this end, I will build a mobile booth in which recordings can be made directly on the streets.

LIMBO – Part I, A Living Room Without Walls is a room installation where one can experience many things: It depicts a living room whose walls no longer exist. The living room that does not belong to any flat – a space of stillness outside the private sphere. The idea of showing this installation on the street is to create a site-specific sense, because the work directly reflects what happens to people who live there. The main gesture here is the invitation to the public to meet us in our living room and get to know the reality of houselessness from the perspective of two affected women, Janet Amon and Habibi. With this invitation, I would above all like to facilitate communication between affected and non-affected people in order to possibly broaden the discourse on the subject.

Presentation of the project

This work will be first presented in the context of the 48h Neukölln art festival at Weichselplatz between the 28th and the 30th June. Here, the audience is invited to visit the installation and experience it in three ways: One can have an individual insight on some experiences the two women went through when living on the streets, by watching their interviews and getting to know this reality through their personal perspective – this will be possible throughout the festival, from the 28th to the 30th of June.

At the opening of the exhibition (28.06 at 19h) Janita Juvonen will be reading some parts of her book about her personal experience on the street.

On the 29th and 29th of June, at 15h, both Janet and Habibi will be present and the audience is invited to play “The Memory of The Powerful Women” with them – a game we developed together, to enable the dialogue with the audience and break the ice.

The installation will pre presented the same way a second time in cooperation with the Karuna Kompass association at the Karuna Café at Boxhagener Platz, on the 6th of July from 10h until 17h.

PRESENTATION 1
48h Neukölln // 28.-30.06
Weichselplatz
28.06
19h // Reading by Janita Juvonen 19-22h // Installation
29.06
15h-18h // Memory der Starken Frauen with Janet Amon and Habibi
14-22h // Installation 30.06
15h-18h // Memory der Starken Frauen with Janet Amon and Habibi
14-19h // Installation

 

PRESENTATION 2
Karuna Kompass // 06.07
Café Pavillion // Boxhagener Platz
11h // Memory der Starken Frauen with Janet Amon and Habibi
10-17h // Installation

We are glad to invite you all to join us in our living room!

Julian Assange is free. Are we?

Denouncing war crimes is a duty

Julian Assange was finally given back his freedom. After 5 years of detention, the journalist and Wikileaks founder was released from Belmarsh prison. Yet, the decision has a bitter aftertaste for human rights defenders, journalists and academics. The decision that eventually led to his freedom was a deal with the government of the United States, which had charged the investigative journalist with espionage. Through the organization Wikileaks, which was founded by Assange, documents proving war crimes committed by American troops 15 years ago, were published. These documents were leaked by Chelsea Manning, a former United States Army Soldier. Until the date, Manning was incarcerated for seven years for violations of the US-American espionage act for leaking classified documents to Wikileaks.

Yesterday’s release of Julian Assange was much celebrated around the world. But it actually represents a setback for human rights defenders. Charges against Assange had not been dropped. By signing the deal, he agreed to his conviction of espionage. 

Through Assange’s imprisonment, limits for press and academic freedom have been drawn: do not publish illegally obtained documents. Yet, the inhumane treatment of Julian Assange, denounced even by the UN-Special Rapporteur on Torture, points to a second boundary: do not mess with the government of the United States. 

It is easy to be a human rights defender in the West when it comes to the “usual culprits”: Russia, Iran, China. Conferences are frequent and funds abundant. Despite the obviously dangerous nature of their profession, researchers and journalists covering Russia war crimes in Ukraine enjoyed abundant support from the European community. And they should. But the same cannot be said about human rights defenders covering Palestine. They were silenced, defamed, victimized by police violence, and lost their jobs – and were even temporarily banned from German territory.

Before the public persona Assange comes the human being. His freedom should be celebrated. The real question is: has the government deal legalized his illegal imprisonment? He might be free, but has he obtained real freedom to continue his mission? 

Is the public allowed to hold Western governments accountable? Are human rights defenders allowed to do their work, regardless of the country’s flag? 

In Latin America, state violence is researched by a large community. The investigation of human rights abuses is an established practice in academia. In Germany, in the middle of two wars, and against the repression of critical voices regarding war crimes in Palestine and institutional violence, holding Western governments accountable has become an act of great courage – even in a country with a so-called Feminist Foreign Policy. 

Assange is free, but are we free? 

What Does It Mean to Be Human?

No need to love others as much as you love yourself, but at least you can avoid hatred.


24/06/2024

To be human means to belong to an animal species capable of building a skyscraper and flying into space. But it also means being one of those who created and loved racism, genocide, and managed to turn war into a weapons business.

I remember how on the first day of the war, leaving Kyiv, I couldn’t imagine my own future. I’m not talking about a global future. Nah. Because of the war, I suddenly lost the ability to plan my life even more than one day in advance. This means that regular workouts and a healthy diet immediately collapsed. Effective learning also relies on regularity, and since I couldn’t plan for tomorrow, the ability to learn was suddenly lost. But even then, I was still human.

Reading the terrifying news about explosions, murders, and conditions of captivity, I understood that it was one of the boundaries of what we call being human. Cowardice and courage are equal cunstructors of us. Moreover, being the opposite of each other, they they are also different poles of one phenomenon.

“THREE SOLDIERS RAPED A WOMAN IN FRONT OF HER HUSBAND”

“A MILITARY MAN HAD SEXUAL CONTACT WITH AN ELDERLY WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO LEAVE HER HOUSE”

“A WOMAN TALKS ABOUT PREGNANCY AFTER CAPTURE”

Reading such news inevitably causes a numbing effect. I want to distance myself from what is happening. I want to grow a second skin. Can’t trust anyone. I want to stay in the house. And when I accidentally witness someone else’s kindness, I involuntarily begin to look with suspicion. They say that if one looks at a good person for a long time, a scoundrel appears. But the scoundrel is never us, but someone else, isn’t it?

When I got an erection on the first day of the war, I wondered if I was human? Is it normal to feel horny knowing that I could die at any minute? The country in which I lived may cease to exist, and I hide my hand in my pocket, making simple movements.

Am I normal? Am I even human? I didn’t know the answer then. A frightened brain was focused on survival and therefore simplifies reality. Military propaganda works on the same principle, but its goal is not to save your life, but to save the state.

Now I know that my sudden erection is also a sign of belonging to an animal species capable of building a skyscraper, flying into space, and also loving what hurts others.

***

What a monstrous delusion it is to believe that during war a person forgets about love.

What a monstrous delusion it is to judge others against yourself.

You can give your life for your ideologies, but this doesn’t give you the right to demand that your ideolgies become mine.

What is good for one person may be harmful for another. There is a great phrase in English – “to walk a mile in someone’s shoes.” I would go further and suggest exchanging not shoes, but underwear.

Of course, I don’t mean anything dirty; on the contrary, I’m talking about intimate things. Sexual preferences are intimate. Religious feelings are intimate. Ideals, life-changing decisions, a sense of duty, dignity – all this is intimate, which means individual, difficult to explain or for strangers to understand. Our life experiences have made it so. An attempt to impose one’s own “intimate” on another reveals the barbaric desire to act based on conclusions drawn through their life experience.

So, why complicate things? There are certain points that are clear. For example, murder is definitely bad. War is definitely bad. But my writing instinct tells me that there are not so many clear-cut things in the world, and maybe there are none at all. After all, if you ask a murderer about his motives, he will offer a version of events in which he is not the villian.

The same thing happens with war and with the military. For some, war is the death of loved ones, but for others it is the restoration of historical justice. And all because humanity has this trait – the desire to find a noble justification for any action. 

That’s why all this talk of a debt to the homeland, which everyone must pay at the cost of their own life, is doubly insidious. Any soldier can become both a hero and a villain. The thing is – my homeland is not a commodity that I would like to pay for with my life.

***

So, what is it to be human? 

In my novel THE MINING BOYS, I describe a conversation between two characters who managed to escape from Ukraine, despite the ban on men crossing the border. One of these guys wants to go to the Louvre, and the other to Auschwitz.

The Louvre is a place where the best manifestations of humanity are collected. And if everything is clear with the desire to visit the Louvre, then you can ask me why someone might want to visit Auschwitz, having fled a country in which there is a war? The fact is that places like Auschwitz demonstrate the worst that humanity is capable of. Visiting a concentration camp can show the limits of the horror that war can bring.

Will the war in Ukraine cross this border? Something tells me that it depends not only on the supply of weapons, but also on our ability to love in a time when even the question “how are you?” may sound like an insult. Your husband died in a house explosion because the country’s authorities didn’t let him go. How are you? Are you fine? 

This piece is a part of  a series, The Mining Boy Notes, published on Mondays and authored by Ilya Kharkow, a writer from Ukraine. For more information about Ilya, see his website. You can support his work by buying him a coffee.

The Fascists, a New Popular Front and the Crisis in France

One week before elections


23/06/2024

One week before the first round of legislative elections, the Telegraph in London headlines on a “nationalist revolution” in France. The situation is changing constantly, with the far-right Rassemblement national (National Rally), led by Marine Le Pen and Jordan Bardella, at 35% in the polls and being predicted to get more seats than any other party. This article tries to explain what the main political forces are doing, and why anti-capitalists should campaign enthusiastically for the New Popular Front while putting forward arguments about the limits of change coming from parliament.

Macron

The polls say that President Macron’s party will get around 20% of the vote (but the two-round voting system makes it extremely difficult to translate this into a number of seats in parliament, since so much depends on alliances, which can shift between the two rounds). He is widely unpopular due to his neoliberal attacks, but was hoping that an express election would leave the Left divided, and himself able to pose as only alternative to Le Pen’s far right.

In the past, he had portrayed himself as “neither Left nor Right” and chose some of his ministers among ex-Socialist Party members. Next,  he claimed to be the only obstacle to fascism. But this time round, he is claiming he wants to save France from the twin evils of left and right extremism. In reality, he steals policies from the far right, and attacks the Left whenever he can.

This week, when not desperately looking for new tax bribes to trumpet, he was denouncing the Left alliance New Popular Front’s programme as “totally immigrationist”, using a neologism actually invented by the fascists. The same day he tried to attract transphobes by commenting that some NPF policies were “grotesque, like the fact that you’ll be able to just go down to the town hall and change your sex”.

One of his main supporters, François Bayrou, railed against the supposed “two mortal dangers” facing France – the France Insoumise (France in Revolt) and the Rassemblement national. Macron has insisted that, even if he loses large numbers of MPs in this election, he will not resign as president. But nothing can be completely certain.

The fascists 

Most people in France now, according to polls, do not think that the National Rally “is a threat to democracy”, and believe it has left its fascist past behind. But it has in fact only pretended to change. The slogan “To protect your identity and your borders” is still at the top of its leaflets. Refusing health care to undocumented migrants, and reserving social housing for French nationals are priorities for the RN. Excluding people with dual nationality from public service jobs has recently appeared in their programme, and banning the wearing of Muslim headscarves on the streets is also an RN policy (“not an immediate priority” according to Bardella).

As Kevin Ovenden writes, the last thirty years “have been a victory for Le Pen’s deep strategy of a long march through the institutions while her party core retains the traditions of French fascism”. Many French bosses, frightened by the social justice programme put forward by the Left, are now contacting Bardella for discussions. In general, French bosses, while being happy to have the fascists as a minority pulling politics to the right, have preferred them not to be in charge.

But this week the option of a government with a fascist core has been normalized. You get the impression that the next TV programme will be “How will a RN government affect your gardening requirements?”. Helped by Macron and the media, the RN is able to pose as defenders of democracy. Bardella declared recently that his party would defend French Jews against the antisemitism of Muslims and of the far Left!

The traditional right-wing party, the  Republicans, at 9% in the polls, split spectacularly in two last week, faced with the question of allying with the RN or not. For many years, politicians of the traditional Right had avoided this – some because they had principles, some because they thought it would upset their voters. Occasionally anti-fascist movements have pushed parties to avoid such pacts, as in 1998 when a campaign of what we called “democratic harassment” got rid of the beginnings of an alliance.

The New Popular Front

Contrary to Macron’s hopes, the main Left parties have formed an alliance, the  New Popular Front, which includes the France Insoumise (France in Revolt) of Jean-Luc Mélenchon, the Socialist Party, the Communist Party, and the Greens. In the polls, its estimated vote is at 29% and rising. The nature of the two-round elections means that a Left alliance will automatically reduce the number of towns where the Left is absent in the second round, and therefore the number of far-right MPs. The fact of this unity, and the quite radical joint programme produced, have motivated a dynamic campaign, and encouraged people to think that now is  the time to move against fascism. Over 10 000 new people joined the networks of the France Insoumise within a few days. Some people around me are out leafletting for their first time ever.

Two of the biggest union confederations have broken with tradition by directly calling for a vote for the New Popular Front. Some regional trade union federations have set up electoral campaigning networks. Jewish anti-Zionist groups and organizations such as ATTAC and Greenpeace have voiced support. Top footballer Lilian Thuram declared “we need to fight every day so that RN does not gain power”. Despite being warned not to intervene, Kylian Mbappe expressed his support for his team mate, and was promptly denounced by  Bardella. Several hundred public sector managers have signed a declaration saying that they will refuse to obey far-right ministers if they are asked to implement racist measures or other measures which are contrary to democratic values. Five hundred artists signed a declaration denouncing the far right, while academics have established a new “League for Academic Freedom”. 

As we know, elections are not at the centre of class struggle, but the formation of the New Popular Front has allowed a far wider and deeper anti-fascist mobilization. Young people’s demonstrations last week chanted unanimously both “Front Populaire!” and “Siamo tutti anti-fascisti!”

The formation of a united Left front has also allowed the election discussions, even in the mass media, to be based on real issues. “At last the mega-rich will pay their share” declared Jean-Luc Mélenchon on the front page of 20 Minutes, a free newspaper which distributes millions of copies in the Paris metro. Meanwhile, Nobel prize winner Esther Duflo explained on TV why it is perfectly possible to finance the raising of the minimum wage by 14% and the raising of all public sector salaries by 10%, as is promised in the New Popular Front manifesto.

Of course the New Popular Front is in some ways fragile. Its programme is radical mostly due to the strength of the France Insoumise, and to the power of public hatred of neoliberal reform, as shown in the mass strikes in 2023. Its fragility means there has been no attempt yet to designate a Prime Minister if there is a Left victory in the elections, which, in these days of over-personalized politics, is certainly a disadvantage.

Mainstream media and the political right are working overtime trying to smear the NFP and particularly the France Insoumise as extreme, violent and antisemitic. Mélenchon as the best-known orator and leader, is particularly under attack. In the most disgusting cynical manipulation  this week, the rape by two thirteen-year-old boys of a twelve-year-old Jewish girl was the excuse for days of media “debates” about “the antisemitism of the radical Left”, while at one of the rallies called in response to this crime, extremist supporters of Israel chanted “Mélenchon should be in prison!”

Mélenchon is the target for attack from the right and from sections of the Socialist Party, and even from people further left who have not understood how smear campaigns work. Mélenchon represents not just opposition to genocide, Islamophobia, and neoliberalism: he represents a radical break with the status quo, demanding a constituent assembly, a new constitution with far less power for the president, a move to 100% organic farming, the end of nuclear power, and a rethink of the whole of society. Anti-capitalists need to defend him, at the same time as not hiding the many disagreements we have about the centrality of parliament, the role of French imperialism and so on. 

The importance of elections 

The election campaign and anti-fascist mobilization go hand in hand, and indeed the electoral alliance was made possible by pressure from below. Symbolically, last week, when the four organizations were negotiating for an alliance, hundreds of young people outside the building were chanting “The youth demands a popular front!”

We need to fight for everyone to vote Left, and for the widest possible mobilization. There were demonstrations in 200 towns against the RN on the 15th June led by trade unions, and there were many anti-fascist demonstrations on the 23rd June focussed around defending women’s rights. This in addition to picnics and dance parties, concerts, rambles, petitions and leaflettings by a great variety of organizations.

We need to go further. The vague calls for strike action against the far right last Thursday resulted in little strike action. It is an uphill struggle, but the campaign must be accelerated.

Many in the NPF understand that, as an invited trade union speaker declared at the NPF launch rally last week: “We must not give a blank cheque to a new popular front government. The capitalists will still be there. We will still need strikes and mobilization.” If things go badly in the elections, this will be only the beginning of a long struggle. And we need a national mass action campaign of harassment and education, in order to stop Le Pen building the party structures around the country which she sorely needs, but which remain weak for the moment.