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Features by Conor Kostick Independent Left

What can Irish anarchists offer Revolutionaries?

14/08/2020 by Conor Kostick 3 Comments

Irish socialists Independent Left discuss revolution with Irish anarchists
Independent Left’s Conor Kostick discusses left politics, revolution, organising and Lenin with longstanding anarchist Kevin Doyle

Conor Kostick of Independent Left, former member of the SWP, and Kevin Doyle, a long time anarchist, former member of the Workers Solidarity Movement (WSM), in conversation about the question of how socialists and revolutionaries in Ireland – and beyond – should organise in order to be effective. And how Irish anarchists can contribute to left politics in answering this question.

What are the prospects for revolutionaries in Ireland?

CK: The conversation I’m hoping to have is about how socialists in Ireland can build a radical organisation. But what should it look like? A far left organisation that’s democratic, that involves everybody, that doesn’t have a hierarchy and a controlling small group of people with material interests in keeping the thing going? So, we’ll get onto all that. But maybe first we can start with something that I’m sure we agree on, which is that the world right now feels that it’s very much in need of a deep and profound change, a complete reorganisation, away from a capitalist society. It’s got all sorts of crazy things happening, as we record this. What’s your take on the state of the world today and the need for change?

KD: Well, I think one of the things that’s framed my current perspective is, on the one hand, there appears to be a growing sense out there generally, that there is no alternative to this capitalist system that’s there, despite the fact that it’s leading us to ruin, certainly in terms of the climate crisis. When I was first getting involved in politics, left ideas had a strong currency.

CK: When was that?

KD: I guess it would be the late 70s; I got involved in the Social Society in University College Cork. That was my early involvement. It was mainly Marxism, but there was a very good debate between Marxists and anarchists that I was just listening to, a bit gobsmacked because I didn’t really know too much about it. But, I learned a huge amount back then, about the debates in the socialist movement generally, between Marxist and anarchists, about how could you bring about fundamental change, could you use the state or not? They were very informative.

To me – I think maybe it was just my youthfulness – I certainly felt very optimistic then. I think a lot of left-wing people felt there was real opportunities ahead, but of course, very serious things happened, like Thatcherism and the defeat of the miners: these were milestones along the way that saw the collapse of the Soviet Union, which to some extent is a big issue, and which played a big part in undermining the dream of an alternative world being possible. Certainly, I feel I’ve come through a period in my life where left-wing ideas now are much more sort of marginalized to the big debate in society, on the one hand, and are not out there offering a real concrete alternative anymore like they were.

I certainly believe a revolutionary change is possible, and also a very credible alternative. But, I do think it’s a big uphill struggle for us to get ourselves better known, get our ideas more influential.

CK: Right. But, looking at the speed at which emergency measures had to be taken to cope with COVID, I think society has had a shock. You were saying people kind of just accept life as normal: that you can change a little bit here, a little bit there, but nothing fundamental can change. Then suddenly, people are talking about, ‘Well, can we nationalize all the private healthcare?’ ‘Can we give everybody 350 Euros a week?’

KD: Absolutely.

CK: If someone had told me five years ago that Leo Varadkar was going to give everybody in the country 350 Euros a week if they needed it, forget it. That would have seemed impossible.

KD: Impossible. They’d have locked you up and said, ‘He’s lost his head.’

CK: So, this is heartening to me because we keep talking about the ‘new norm’ in terms of our behaviour under the COVID rules. There could be other types of ‘new norm’, including our behaviour under socialism; our behaviour under anarchism. The idea that we’re so inflexible, that we’re locked into one way of behaving, I think that’s weakened considerably.

I suspect – although no one carries out these interesting surveys – that young people in particular will be quite open minded to the idea that there could be other ways of living, a new normal, where it’s normal to be kind and generous and not greedy.

KD: I think there’s always been surveys coming out every now and again, but I think there is a feeling among younger people that things should be different, and it could be different. We saw a bit of a glimpse of that in the recent election and so on and so forth. There is a fatigue with the way things are.

Let’s face it, people are being impoverished in the sense of their future, given the way things are now at. You’re going through an education system that ultimately can leave people with lots of debt, and the opportunities when you come out the other end of it are becoming much more difficult, much more limited, and the job market is extremely difficult for people. I think there’s a build-up of frustration that I think is there, and as perhaps you’re seeing, can easily tip off into quite a different way of looking at things.

CK: Now, when people start looking around for alternatives, what’s on offer? Well, it’s Sinn Féin here in Ireland, which occupies the space that Social Democracy occupies in a lot of other countries. Then, there is a very weak Social Democracy here in the form of – literally – the Social Democrats and Labour. Anarchists and revolutionary socialists would have a much more fundamental message than these parties. Do you want to just say a little bit about the end goal for you, if you could transform the world? If you could achieve an anarchist’s world; what are the main features of that?

Irish anarchists WSM Mayday
Irish Anarchists in the Workers Solidarity Movement marching Mayday 2007

What is the goal of anarchism?

KD: I think it is the idea of communism, but it’s communism with freedom. So, what do we mean by communism? I think the best way now to consider communism – if we leave aside the jargon and the extent to which the word has been hollowed out – what we’re seeing is that there is huge wealth in the world, and there are vast resources there. It would easily be possible for the reorganisation of how society is being run, to be done in such a way as to give everyone on the globe, a decent, comfortable living, and at the same time, not end up destroying the planet. I think anarchism is the idea that we could organise things better; we could give everyone more or less a lot of what they want; and also let people have a say in the type of society they are in. Abolish of many of the ills that are there: which is massive poverty, dreadful catastrophes that are happening to people, that are all really solvable.

Anarchism is about creating a very democratic, free form of socialism, that is probably very decentralised in terms of its organisational base, but does have a lot of coordination. A co-ordination that’s based on a participatory democratic model and sort of a horizontal form of democracy.

CK: That’s a fine aspiration that I would share and I think the technology that we have today makes it much easier to have a transparent, democratic mass movement. The examples in history we always look to would be the Soviets in Russia, the Workers’ Councils in Hungary in ‘56, and the Spanish takeovers, and even going back to the Paris Commune. But, imagine you could see those reps on your phone debating in the assemblies, all of it unfolding live in front of everyone.

KD: Technology is a massive boon to an alternative form of organisation. Twenty-five years ago it was like you would be thinking, ‘Oh, that’s science fiction,’ but there’s so much that is possible now.

CK: When we talk about democracy, we’re talking about a different kind of democracy to voting every now and again, one with real-time consultations, debates, forums, the ability to recall people who you can see misrepresenting you. So, that’s our shared aspiration and it’s a much deeper transformative vision than is offered by Sinn Féin, Labour, the Social Democrats and the Greens obviously.

So, let’s go into the question of how are we going to get this vision across, because the revolutionary left have an opportunity to articulate this more radical idea of a classless society, of a free society, and of a society that gets rid of poverty.

How do anarchists organise? Are there lessons for Irish socialists?

CK: The possibilities are amazing now, but how can we get that kind of socialist – really radical socialist – idea across now? A lot of people in Ireland are currently discussing how to do this. How does anarchism go about organising the radical left? How do you build… what I would call a ‘revolutionary party’. I don’t know if you would even share that language, but how do you coordinate this voice?

KD: In the Workers Solidarity Movement, we basically set about building an organisation. We didn’t describe it as a political party, but it was a political organisation and it sought to engage in all current activities in terms of what political struggles were happening. It was very much based on education, organising, explaining, trying to popularise our vision. We didn’t engage in standing in elections, but we did engage in the discussion around parliamentary elections or council elections, and tried to talk to people about why we weren’t interested in those particular avenues.

In terms of day-to-day work, it was very much about trying to spread ideas and then meeting probably every week. We were doing it in a very democratic way, and we spent time talking about meeting properly and meeting in a non-hierarchical way, inclusive of people. So, it was very much that sort of an engagement.

CK: I’ll just pause you just there because I’m really interested in that last point. Independent Left want to do this.

And I think other groups around the radical left now, such as RISE, are trying to think about this as well. You just said that you’d spend some time making sure that the organisation wasn’t hierarchical, and that it was inclusive. So, could you spell out what you’ve learned about how you do that?

KD: I’ll talk about the positives first, and then I’ll also just talk about what I think were definite problems. I think it probably is an important part of being an anarchist that you try and create an environment where people do feel they can participate. We put this into a lot of our organising political statements for the Workers Solidarity Movement: that we would try and keep each task practical and real, not just simply an aspiration. That is an important thing I feel myself, and I think it’s one of the attractive things about anarchism: that, there is a sense that you must actively try to work against the evolving of any hierarchy. Because, you can have the organisation changing all the time. Maybe some people are more experienced; maybe others get a bit more media attention than others, maybe different things can happen.

I think there’s obviously particular problems with the parliamentary model where, if you’re standing a candidate, it can change the dynamic. As an anarchist organisation, we try to actively work against hierarchy and we set that down in our written work.

CK: Apart from being conscious of the problem – which is valuable in itself – were there any actual structural procedures that you arrived at that helped give an equality of voice to every single member?

KD: Well, we rotated as many of the administrative positions and also as much of the practical political work as we could, and that was really almost everything. We did have elected personnel, a secretary or treasurer for periods of time, but no one was in these positions for longer than a couple of terms. Generally, it was about the more experienced or longer-involved members in the branches, taking a bit of an interest in involving other people. So, that meant just looking after people that they didn’t feel isolated.

I think there are a lot of basic things that can be done. It surprises me often that they’re not. I think people need to be treated decently. I’ve seen people in political parties been treated appallingly, and I just don’t understand how people put up with it. You do see people being treated very roughly and we would be completely against that.

The importance of Irish anarchists and socialists being part of the working class

CK: Bullying inside of revolutionary parties is not just a psychological phenomenon, it has its roots in what you were saying about the elected members: if there’s a status to be achieved, especially if with that status comes material effects on your lifestyle – employment by the party, celebrity roles in terms of meetings, publications and so on – that’s a very negative pull, and it gets people to behave badly, to jockey for these kinds of positions.

I think class comes into this question as well, because working class communities and activists are much less tolerant of bullying and generally inappropriate behaviours. You know the way that several of these far left parties recently have been wobbling because of sex scandals, because of abusive men? Now, I think if there was a closer connection between these socialists and the working class communities that they claim to be representing – a reality that they should be living and breathing – that kind of stuff is much less tolerated, it’s called out and it’s knocked on the head. So I wonder, if part of the solution is to be rooted, is to be connected. Not living in a lefty bubble.

KD: I think you’re absolutely right. The anarchist kind of movement as much as anyone else, can easily find itself within a ghetto of its own making. Probably one of the best experiences for me as an activist and as an anarchist was when the water tax campaign really started to get going. I think that was a very good thing for us as anarchists as well.

We played a part in it in Cork and Dublin, and in a few other places, and you’re absolutely right that, I think it sort of gave us a breath of fresh air as to how politics were connecting with people, and also about just taking us out of a slight sense of, “Oh, we’re part of the anarchist community,” so it’s a slightly rarefied environment that was immediately dispensed when you’re out there and you’re in a very big campaign, and people are interested in radical ideas, and they’re interested in the fact that you’re part of the campaign, and you’re saying things that are actually useful for them.

But, they’re also much more down there and they’re saying things, they’re challenging you all the time such as, ‘well, why aren’t you standing for election? For Christ’s sake, explain why?’ That’s good for people. It’s no longer theory, it’s actual, you’re being challenged, and it’s really good.

Can anarchist organising principles help left politics in Ireland work at large scales?

CK: Now, something we might disagree on, but maybe not, is, we’ve got this group (Independent Left), we are conscious that no person should dominate this organisation, that everybody – we mean this sincerely as opposed to rhetorically – that everybody has got life experience and skills that add something to the group. Therefore, you don’t have a guru, you don’t have someone who gives the line. We formulate our positions by kind of workshopping the ideas. So, we’ve got this model of complete involvement. Is it scalable to thousands, which it’s going to need to be? Or is this a model that only works when you have a small group?

KD: We have to practice a politics that is participatory, that is to some extent like the society we’re trying to create in the future. We have to like where we’re going. That’s part of the whole process, where we’re in a form of kind of pre-figuring the society of the future. The society of the future has to be a generally very positive, good place for people, that’s empowering to them.

But, the amount of work we used to have to do in the WSM, the pace at which we were trying to do things, I think in some ways the unrealistic aims we often had, created a dynamic that was very difficult to engage all the time in a very good way. We also had a lot of pressures. Work did fall on too few people. We had issues with the same people being too often the people who wrote the articles, and not enough time was put into other people learning skills, developing in ways that they wanted to. So, we had all those problems too. I think the Workers Solidarity Movement didn’t spend enough time resourcing itself as an organisation, because I think you get so caught up with the aims of growing, building, getting more of whatever is your next step, whether you want to get a counsellor elected or whatever: these become the only things that you judge yourself by.

But, the actual health of the organisation at a local level, is actually more important, and can get left behind if you spend too much time on pressing goals. A big thing for us back then used to be getting out newspapers. We were almost judging our progress by how many newspapers we could get out.

CK: I used to write the internal bulletin for the Socialist Workers Party in England. It was just all about that. About putting pressure on the branches to deliver. ‘Doncaster sold 70 papers on Saturday, York 42’, and it was always like trying to twist the arms of the branches that hadn’t done so well. It does create an atmosphere that is not fun. It’s hard work, and it’s a very dour, kind of serious, ‘we are sacrificing ourselves’ tone, which is actually a form of elitism.

Whereas, the revolution is going to be full of memes, it’s going to be funny: we’re going to mock the other side and we’re going to be inspiring each other with humor, instead of this whip lashing, ‘did you get out on the Saturday stall and get enough names?’

So, you’re saying that there are problems when you’re trying to scale. That there’s a minority perhaps really doing disproportionate amounts of work. Is there any way around this? Imagine you’ve got 1,000 anarchists in Ireland. Is there any avoiding having some sort of elected group of people running the show, some sort of apparatus of full timers, some sort of infrastructure with bank accounts and income?

KD: I think so. What’s very interesting, even if you look, say, at the Spanish anarchist movement (of the 1930s). It had really positive aspects in the fact that it had a very empowered, grassroots space. It was a big mass space, a working mass space, and when the revolution came, or when it came to taking on Franco, it was really that grassroots that won the day. People from that movement were ready to run and take on the fascists. And in certain areas the revolution followed. But there was no leader within the Spanish anarchist movement; there were personalities who were dominant, and there were all the sorts of problems that you get at scale: which are some areas being ignored, and other areas being far more influential.

I think when things do get big, it’s probably naive to think we won’t have these things. The point is that we don’t ignore them. I think we have to actively work against them and recognize that they are a problem of the society we’re coming from, and we need to deal with them if we’re ever going to get to the society we want to get to. Because definitely those personality issues and uneven power dynamics within the Spanish Anarchist movement certainly did have a negative effect when it came to the key moments of the revolution. So, it’s in the interest of all of us: if we put in all this effort to be successful, we don’t want to be beaten at the last hurdle because we haven’t dealt with these issues of participation and a horizontal organisation in the lead up to the revolution.

CK: Well, I do see the general spirit of what you’re saying, but I’d like us to think through what does it look like, a mass revolutionary party in the 2020s? I don’t think it looks like the Bolshevik model. I do think it could draw something from anarchism, because we could use technology to genuinely have constant levels of participation: no discussions behind the backs of the members. There’s no reason for that anymore. If you’re operating in a police state, fair enough, but we’re not. Even if we were, we could still have horizontal communication through different technological tools. On the other hand, I’m not advocating a kind of free for all. For example, do you remember, let’s take as a case study, there was someone in the name of anarchism, van Spronsen, attacked a US detention centre last year? He was openly anarchist and got himself killed.

People will come, especially when you’re a mass movement, with all sorts of baggage, some of which has to be called out. We don’t tolerate bullying, sexist behaviour and so on. If someone’s doing a solo run in the name of the WSM or mass anarchist movement, what does everybody else do about that?

Is anarchism individualist?

KD: Obviously for us in the WSM, we were very clear that we’re part of the ‘platform tendency’, which I suppose really is in essence that you agree principles and you agree to abide by them and you agree to work for them. Now, that might seem like a very straightforward proposal, but there are obviously currencies within anarchism that are individualists. There has been a tradition in anarchism where there is no authority, but this is a very marginal side to the anarchist movement actually. It gets far higher profile than it should do.

I think the general collectivist traditions of anarchism are very clear, that you cannot have people going off doing things that are harming other people in the name of the movement, or the revolution. The organisation has a right and a role in either reigning people in or removing them.

CK: Revoking their membership.

KD: That’s very necessary I think, and actually it’s a reality that one has to deal with. We’ve all come across people who go off doing a bad thing, and you can’t ignore that.

CK: So, a code of conduct basically, that people agree to, and if they don’t adhere to it, then they’re out. But, the decision making again has to be transparent because one of the ways in which the SWP controlled the breaches of code of conduct, both in the UK and Ireland, was through lack of transparency in that process, in fact literally, they had a body called the ‘Control Commission’ (a bit of a giveaway in hindsight), which would be four or five people who would meet in judgment in a very secretive way. That’s not going to work. It has to be the decision of everyone pretty much.

KD: The left: anarchists, socialists, Marxists have to have that as the bottom line.

WSM Irish Anarchist Poster No to Europe
Irish anarchist poster, participating in a referendum on Europe.

Irish revolutionaries, anarchists, left politics and elections

CK: Let’s look at election strategy, because we differ on this. I actually enjoyed my last two election outings a lot. I got a lot out of them when talking to people. We met some people who joined us, so lots of positives came out of it. In certain patches, we are pretty strong. John Lyons in particular and Niamh McDonald have a voice that’s heard, which is for the good when you’ve got all sorts of crazy right wing ideas surfacing now as well.

But you’re against it still, are you?

KD: Well, I suppose I see where you’re coming from in a sense. I was there during the ‘Together For Yes’, the Repeal movement, and we were all out as well. I found it actually a great experience to be knocking on people’s doors and talking to them. So, I totally identify with what you’re saying, that elections, whether they are for the councillor or for the Dáil, the parliament, they are great opportunities to get out there, and people are thinking and talking about politics. What’s the harm in that? That’s a great thing.

In the WSM, we never had the attitude that we should ignore elections. We tried to engage in them, but obviously we didn’t stand candidates. I don’t think anyone ever proposed that we even stand sort-of straw candidates. We always engaged with what was going on, but said, ‘Look, it’s not the way to bring change.’ I can see why many people are attracted to standing candidates, because you do get a lot of media attention, what’s wrong with that? It is an opportunity to measure a bit of your support, it’s an opportunity to engage with people. But parliamentary democracy is also there to draw resistance into a safer channel. I think that’s without a doubt the case, that the state is happy that many on the left and the far left are engaging with the state on its terms.

I think probably for us, there’s maybe a couple of points in addition there. First of all, look, it’s a very limited form of democracy that we’re asking people to adopt and buy into. Parliamentary democracy is a bit of a media circus and has become more so. It does create a bit of a dynamic, and then, it does tend to focus a lot of the resources of organisations. Now you might say, ‘well, that could be contained. We could keep that just to a small section.’ But generally, there has often been a tendency that organisations that start out small and with a bit of a parliamentary interest, then gradually become more and more orientated towards the parliament. The German Greens will be the classic example of how far that went in the end. A very grassroots, direct actionist movement in the beginning, and then towards the end they voted for coalition with the SPD and all that.

People Before Profit call for left coalition

CK: No, I totally share your critique of that trajectory. I’m concerned that People Before Profit are pulling like this on people like Richard Boyd Barrett. I knew Richard as a revolutionary for years, but I was quite shocked after the last election, when he came out with the idea of a left government in which they would participate. That’s just crazy, going into a coalition with the Sinn Féin, Greens, Labour and Social Democrats.

KD: I remember seeing a very good interview with Claire Daly a number of years back, I think it was just after she first got elected and she was saying, ‘Look, there’s no doubt. I won’t deny it. Once you go into the Dáil, you feel different. It’s a different place, and there are people looking at you and they’re watching you, and they’re interviewing you.’ She was just making the point quite well, that frankly, it is different when you get elected. No point in saying it’s not. They end up in this bubble of their own in this rarefied environment of the Dáil, and the media, and the whole array.

Anti Nazi League Ireland 1991
Irish Anti Nazi League 1991 with Conor Kostick (beside banner, right) and Richard Boyd Barrett (kneeling)

CK: I’ve known these people for decades and been side by side with them when we had nothing. In fact, I saw an old picture from the Irish Anti-Nazi League of 1991 recently, with Richard in it, and we’re all wearing scruffy jumpers with holes in; we were all on the dole. I think that what happens is not that they ever say, ‘I’m a reformist now,’ of course they don’t say that. It’s more like:  ‘I’m a revolutionary, but you’ve got to understand this is where people are at, people want a left alternative right now, so we’ve got to go along with that. But, we’re going to come out as revolutionaries when the right time is right.’

The problem is, if you commit to that kind of a strategy, you’re sending the wrong message. You’re not giving the critique that you used to give of the parliamentary system, of the need for a radical, fundamental alternative. You’re hoping to spring out like a Jack-in-the-box, and announce that you’ve actually been revolutionary all along. That’s not going to work because you’ve recruited a load of people who aren’t following you in that direction. Then, you end up accommodating them.

KD: An important point for me was with the water tax campaign, Cork is a little bit of a fish bowl in its own way. We had quite a good grassroots movement, very community based, but there was the Socialist Party running Mick Barry and so on, very much in the sense of, ‘Look, Mick’s involved in the water tax campaign in Cork,’ and he was. He was very involved and the party was very involved. But, you could see that very strong factor developing within the campaign after a while, which was the question: is the campaign going to really keep focusing on direct action and spreading its influence among communities, or is it more about getting Mick Barry elected for the Socialist Party?

It’s unrealistic to think that’s not going to happen, but certainly it created a bad environment inside the campaign.

CK: I’ve absolutely seen this dynamic at work myself. I’ve sat in committees  where the issue is a campaign or strike or something, but the conversation gets skewed towards how the party is going to benefit from it. So if your goal, concentration and focus is about winning seats, it’s very distorting on your campaigning. You inevitably start to jockey for position with potential rivals, which is not conducive to a healthy alliance between different people within the socialist left.

KD: I gather it was a much bigger problem in Dublin. It was limited enough in Cork, but it certainly had its own negative impact that I think we could have done without, that’s if it was going well enough anyway.

Revolutionaries, anarchists and hierarchies

CK: Moving on from elections, I suppose the main thing I wanted to gain from the conversation was advice on the involvement of all the members, of avoiding hierarchies. I haven’t really taken that away in any deeper way, at the moment. Your emphasis has been on the spirit, which is right I think. If you have the right spirit, that does go a long way towards keeping an organisation on track.

KD: I suppose what I could add from some of the things that came up, say, in the Workers’ Solidarity Movement over the years is that there was definitely instances where we put more into a written document, to say, ‘Look, bad behaviour is unacceptable. Here are the procedures for dealing with complaints in the organisation.’ We didn’t have that in the early days. It was much more of an aspirational thing, a couple of lines stating that there can’t be any bullying, sexism, anything, just a revolutionary organisation, and so on and so forth. But, it was necessary with time to put in more detailed procedures. I think that was a good thing. Some of that arose out of things that had happened outside the campaign, or outside the WSM I think, but had involved, I think in one case, an activist who was sexually assaulted, and then that made us all think about this.

It was difficult. I think not everyone was on-board right away with some of the things. It was a good example of how within revolutionary organisations you’d think, ‘Well, we should all be on one page on these things,’ but often that’s not what happens. Many women comrades will say it’s simply not that straightforward. We all have to deal with sexism in the organisation. These things don’t just go away because it’s a revolutionary organisation. They’re real problems and you have to actively campaign against them. Actually, I think it’s often been around issues of gender that these aspects of unspoken power in organisations are now appearing.

CK: I think that’s right. That’s been the weak link for the people who are controlling these far left groups.

KD: I think that maybe we on the left haven’t faced up to the challenge that the ideas of revolutionary change are the possession of a minority of people. Now, this is a bigger problem I think in some traditions than others. But it can often be the case that some people do know a lot more about the theory and are more articulate and so on. In a way, they are often the people who come to control an organisation over time.

I think we’re naive in any organisation not to see that that’s a possible problem, and being vigilant about it. Having a good way with ideas, or being able to talk about them and being able to be articulate about them, has to be really watched, because it can be the biggest pull. That’s a very significant issue I think, that perhaps within the Leninist tradition was hidden under the whole notion of the ‘cadre’ and that cadre based on the Vanguard and a great deal of ill was caused by that hierarchical format.

Lenin stroking a cat
Lenin stroking a cat

Lenin, the revolutionary party and anarchism

CK: I’m actually a fan of Lenin. But, the Lenin I’m a fan of is not the Lenin that you get in the SWP. I wrote about this, about Tony Cliff’s version of Lenin.

KD: Which part do you like about him?

CK: This is very relevant for us now. When really big events are unfolding, you start with the Larry Goodmans and the billionaires, and they influence the government, and they influence the heads of the media. They have their agenda and their policy, and it’s very, very powerful. That pulls the middle class, the well-meaning, the liberal. The liberals then pull the left and everybody ends up being drawn behind the solutions to the crisis of the most powerful. It’s like when the Great War began, the left got pulled in behind the agenda of the capitalist powers, and very few people stood out against it. Lenin was one of them. That’s just to take one of the biggest issues.

So, he was fiercely independent of capitalism. When he thought something was right, he stuck to his guns, and he didn’t cave in to the pressures that we talked about earlier in terms of electoral pressure or any softening of the revolutionary message. At the same time as holding to his revolutionary position, he strove to try and communicate that. People don’t read Lenin that much anymore, but I do, and I find him inspiring. It’s inspiring that you can face such incredible odds and believe in such fundamental change, and then see it realized.

KD: He had a decisive influence.

CK: I’m not going to defend him after the revolution, but especially in the build up to it, and particularly when he’s quoting anarchists and Marx in State and Revolution – which is a brilliant anarchist pamphlet – that’s all great stuff. Lenin did some terrible things as the revolution was going down, that I absolutely wouldn’t stand over. But that’s not who he was for most of his life, coming up to 1917 and in 1917 itself. In 1917, he’s brilliant. He was really brilliant. Like I was saying about the Great War, somebody in Russia had to say, ‘Down with Kerensky’. ‘All power to the soviets’. ‘Down with the constitutional assembly’. And even his own party weren’t saying this. So, that’s a very big difference with anarchists, because they hate Lenin, right? They don’t see any good in any part of his life, because they’re retrospectively viewing him back from Kronstadt, all the way to 1903 and the split with the Mensheviks, they are seeing a dictator. But there’s quite a big difference in my mind between Lenin and Stalin. I would never make the same case for the young Stalin. When you read about the young Stalin, he was still a thug. He never had the kind of integrity that I find in Lenin’s writings.

KD: I’ve been recently reading some material connected with the Kronstadt Rebellion and so on, so I was looking again at the period after, once the revolution had happened. I agree with you to a considerable extent about Lenin’s role in the lead up to the revolution, but I think you could certainly see the real dangers of his format of organizing, and his personality, and how they had a catastrophic effect on the revolution afterwards, because they very much did, I think, undermine the grassroots or the factory committees and so on. Now, I think it was a difficult time for the revolution…

CK: When you frame it that way, yes. But when you say it was a difficult time, it was an awful time. As early as 1919, only ten percent of the people who made that revolution were still in the factories. So, the possibility of having a recallable delegate system had collapsed. All the faults, all the poison that may have existed in embryonic form flourished without being checked, without being challenged.

KD: We’ll have to go through it another time.

Leadership within revolutionary and anarchist organisations

CK: Yes, because what I’d like to keep the focus on is something that you said there before we got into this, which is that the Leninist model as propounded by the Socialist Party, the Socialist Workers Party, and so on, had this guru-like effect. It has a language that justifies leadership in very revolutionary terms, ‘cadre’, the ‘university of the working class’. There’s a self-importance which is reinforced by this kind of political model. ‘We are the university of the working class’, and therefore within that, we’ve got our university lecturers.

So, I’m agreeing with you that this kind of model of Lenin that’s been adopted since whenever, probably from the ‘80s, probably post Miners’ Strike, has distorted them. Therefore, you’ve got this dynamic inside of an organisation where people who’ve read a lot and have maybe been around a lot are very influential inside of their organisations, very. To the point that they’re not challenged as much as they should be.

Your approach to dealing with that is to consciously say, ‘it doesn’t matter how much you’ve read, you’re going to make mistakes. Who is going to correct those mistakes?’ It’s got to be the new members and the class itself, the communities you’re in, calling you on your mistakes, right?

The internal history of the Socialist Party and the Socialist Workers Party, is seamless. They never made any mistakes . Whereas, human history or individual history is full of painful mistakes. So I think you’re on the right track in saying you want to have a spirit that does not ever defer to that figure (who is usually male) and is the authority in these parties. Now, having said all that, obviously we’re very respectful of people’s experience and of their passions and their interests. If someone has had an interest in revolution, and is maybe a big fan of Rosa Luxemburg, and has really read a lot about her, obviously we defer to that. We listen to that. We want to benefit from that, not just in an educational way. The pace at which the world changes means you’ve got to make quick decisions and they’ve got to be right. If you’re on the streets in Seattle, or somewhere in Portland and Trump invades with the National Guard, you may be heading towards insurrection in a matter of weeks.

You’ve got to call that. You can be in a situation that’s moving very, very fast and people lose their bearings in those situations. Sometimes someone who has read a lot about revolutions, and has had maybe a certain amount of life experience and glimpses of revolutionary struggle, is a very good person to have in your party to call it. So, there’s a contradiction here between needing expertise in revolution, which doesn’t come easily, and not giving that expert free license.

KD: I agree there’s a tension there, but I don’t think it’s a problem that can’t be handled because I do think, if one puts in place the ethos, and, also, if the process of involvement of people in an organisation and in the campaigns that your organisation is involved in is one of empowerment, and one where they’re listened to, then they won’t become passive to the process of being in a political organisation. They’ll become what we want people to become, which is more empowered and more likely to speak up. It’s not to say that setting things up the right way is the solution, but it certainly is half the battle, because I think then the process of keeping people more involved will occur. One of the things I would say that I feel now from my years of involvement is that I think it’s vital to spend more time on resourcing organisations than we do.

I think we get too caught up in winning the next battle against capitalism, which is always a great thing to do if you can win them, but our organisations are vital in terms of their inner harmony, but also in terms of their inner health, in terms of what we want. Because if we don’t have health in our own organisations, it becomes a toxic environment. As you say, we all know where that can lead.

CK: I think we’ve arrived at somewhere which is helpful to me now. This is good. We’ve got past the obstacles. I’ve suddenly got an image of what a mass revolutionary left looks like as opposed to our small little ones. Because, for years, the Socialist Party and Socialist Workers Party, they elect the same committees (insofar as it’s an election). It’s a contrived form of election, because it’s a presented panel, which has never had serious opposition in twenty years. But if you’re conscious that this is a problem and alert to it, then I think that the contradiction I drew attention to is solvable. I agree with you. It’s solvable partly technologically these days, because you could rotate those positions, so you can have a completely different leadership, whilst still involving the experienced members. Why not give new people the experience of leading a party?

KD: In the long run, it’s better. The whole thing about that system is that the other side can say, ‘Take me to your leader so we can cut your head off’. The many-headed hydras are much more difficult, if I’m using the right analogy.

CK: Yeah, exactly. So why would the TDs and the counsellors necessarily be the leadership? They don’t have to be. Let’s have a fresh, exciting new leadership. Maybe they will make mistakes, but because we’re in a constant flow of dialogue with one another, we’re chatting on Facebook, we’re swapping memes on WhatsApp, therefore we can have an argument about it. We can have a special Zoom meeting about it in the COVID era, and we all come. You can have no problem calling 50 people at 24 hours’ notice. The older people who maybe have got some experience could win the argument. You don’t have to be the general secretary – with your hands on the purse strings, appointing the full timers – to still have political leadership.

So, I absolutely do see that it should be a model where we’re sharing these roles, and there’s no person who stays in a significant position for long. What is sad to see is my old comrades who seem to have a policeman in their heads so that it’s not that the leadership of these parties is unchallengeable because they’re manipulating the democratic structures. It’s because people have become so accustomed to a lack of really passionate arguments, and a lack of voting, and a lack of swapping things around, they’ve just sat still through it all. They think that’s the best revolutionary practice. The best revolutionary practice is for me to go along with what the long-established leadership is saying.

KD: That’s the thing, isn’t it? I think you’ve hit upon another important thing as well is that, I think you’ll attract certain people to certain things. You do attract more passive people to more hierarchical party structures. I know of a number of individuals within parties I won’t mention, but I often do feel like saying, ‘Look, why have some of them stayed in there and allowed themselves to be treated so badly?’ I think that’s the other side, the flip side of the coin is that, sometimes these hierarchically structured parties actually attract in people who accept an awful lot of things that they shouldn’t be accepting, because they’re in parties of social change, but they end up with very passive, meek people, who then get further bullied.

So in a way, if you create that sort of party at the beginning, you’re going to have the two sides. You’re going to attract power hungry people, and you’re also going to attract meek people who will be bullied. But, we can flip the whole thing upside down and create the opposite type of a political organisation, and really create the environment where people who are sort of megalomaniacs don’t thrive in it. The opposite happens actually, they leave because no one’s listening to them.

CK: That’s a good note to end on!

Filed Under: Irish Political Parties

Black Lives Matter: a view from the streets for Irish socialists

04/06/2020 by Conor Kostick 1 Comment

An interview with Paige Graffunder, Seattle 3 June 2020

“It’s going to escalate until the police are gone”: a massive revolt against murderous police racism rocks the USA.

Paige Graffunder is an activist in Seattle, involved with Revolution Books and Black Lives Matter Seattle.

For the benefit of socialists in Ireland, where many of us see events through official news channels, which never drill down enough, I’m hoping you can give our readers some insight into what’s happening on the ground. Maybe you could start by telling us who is actually organising the protests?

There’s a bunch of groups. Unfortunately, a lot of activism in the United States kinda exists in a ‘diaspora’, because as soon as you get too many people you immediately get labelled a terrorist organisation because we have a fascist in office. A lot of it has been Black Lives Matter, because Black Lives Matter is actually big enough in Seattle that they actually have an office. In general, it’s not really an organisation, it’s an ideal.

The primary motivation of Black Lives Matter is equality and equity for the black community: stop getting killed by a militarised police force; achieve more equal statistics for punishment on crime (63% of all violent crime in this country is committed by white people, yet 70% of the prison community is black). That’s their main focus but through that they’ve built this community system where everybody takes care of each other.

Black Lives Matter logo. A yellow image on a black background. A stylized left hand is clenched in a fist, around which like a halo is written: Black Lives Matter in an old 'zine font.
Black Lives Matter

So essentially, they’ve built socialism. Right now, for example, I’ve just got back from dropping off field medi-kits and water bottles and a bunch of other stuff to their office in Central District. They just provide so much to the community by way of support. Anyone who can help, does help.

And is Black Lives Matter aligned to the Democrats?

No, not at all, the Democrats hate us too. We’re leftist, without any particular political affiliation.

Roughly how many organisers would Black Lives Matter have in Seattle?

Personally, I know about twenty-five organisers for these particular protests but there are so many. And again, who is an organiser depends on who is stepping up to the plate. There’s no hierarchical leadership; it’s not really an organisation. It’s a community effort.

Presumably people who’ve never done anything like this before are getting involved.

Absolutely. As soon as they saw the first night of protest here (30 May 2020) in Seattle, which went very badly. There was four hours of totally peaceful protest; there was seven feet between the protesters and a line of police. The protesters were sitting down. Then, with literally no warning, there was no command, they just shot tear gas into it for no reason. That first protest was probably around a thousand people, but after seeing what happened, last night (2 June 2020) there were eight thousand people on the street. Bear in mind we had called May Day off – historically, Seattle has a riot every first of May, laughs – we cancelled that because of the coronavirus. But this is bringing people onto the street despite the virus.

Is there much of a socialist presence in these protests?

Here there is. We have the People’s Party and Socialist Alternative, both have a big membership and strong turnout. Councillor Kshama Sawant, has been out every day, she stays every day, which is awesome.

I was wondering whether this movement has been so explosive, not just because of the continual murders of black people by the police, but also because the black community has suffered more heavily from the virus, such as by not having access to the same level of health care?

Here’s the thing. This is one of those straw that breaks the camel’s back moments. The murder of George Floyd was awful and here, literally the week before, we had cops wrongfully and mistakenly enter an apartment building and kill a woman while she slept. This happens all the time. Plus, on top of five hundred years of slavery, segregation and oppression and coronavirus, the American medical system kills more black people than cops do. Their problems go largely ignored; they just don’t receive the same level of care.

Looking at this movement from the other side: are the authorities (with Trump at their head) going to regain control of the situation?

No. I don’t think so, because every time they escalate, it just draws more people. Nobody paid attention to the curfew. The curfew in Seattle is 7pm, although I need to explain more about this. The curfew does not apply if the protest is designated ‘peaceful’ because that would be a violation of First Amendment rights.

A line of heavily armoured police with batons is formed up on a street with shops in the background.
The more the police escalate the violence the more protestors take to the streets

There’s a lot of coverage of violence here. To what extent is that the work of protesters?

It’s not, not initially. And actually, they are caught on video and most of the time it’s undercover cops.

What steps are activists taking to try to cut down on arson and looting?

Seattle hasn’t had any arson around the actual protests since the first day. Protesters are not breaking into buildings or anything like that. Seattle is very good about listening; our whole thing here is anti-racist, anti-fascist, only Seattle. So the city is very good at listening to who needs to be listened to. When black organisers and people of colour say, ‘no, we’re not doing this and if you see someone doing this you must stop them,’ people listen.

Can we just focus on that? Because it seems to be a really important issue. Who has the authority to say to the demonstrators, ‘no, we’re not doing this’? And how do they communicate?

There’s not like a figurehead. There have been two people recently who have gotten in front of a megaphone more than others, but there have been some questions about their motives to do that because they have been unreasonably willing to listen to empty promises. The mayor, Jenny Durkan, came out yesterday and spoke to these two in front of the protest and they were like, ‘oh yeah we don’t want to see it get violent’. And the crowd were responding, ‘well then, deauthorise the use of CS gas, of tear gas.’ The Mayor turned around and she literally ran.

And when the crowd were, ‘fuck the police’, one of these ‘leaders’ told them to ‘shut the fuck up.’ So who is leading changes day by day and most of this information gets disseminated by social media. Enough people said, ‘listen to the black leaders,’ and now people listen. And they are listening to women, ninety-percent of the ‘leaders’ here are women.

And it’s really funny watching people get a crash course in revolutionary practices. I know more people who know how to de-arrest now than I ever did. I’m pretty sure that every housewife on my block knows how to put out a CS canister and what to do if you’re hit by a rubber bullet. I’ve personally instructed about a hundred people on how to do field sutures.

Please tell us more about your day, what’s your day like in this crisis?

I’m extremely medically fragile, so me being on the street is not a thing. I help in other ways. I’ve been making about a hundred to two hundred med kits every day. A wash kit, gauze, bandages, a field kit with sutures.

A friend and I built a script that takes all of the feeds from the traffic cameras. We can isolate certain blocks and streets so we can keep an eye on things aerially. Also we monitor the public scanner of the police. The cops here are covering their badge numbers and their body cameras are turned off. The National Guard were wearing their helmet cameras the first days they were here. They aren’t any more. So there’s not accountability. It’s our live feeds and traffic cameras against what they say and unfortunately, historically, that has gone very badly for us.

Is there anything you’ve seen that we wouldn’t have been able to view via our main TV channels?

There’s so much that you haven’t seen. For example in New York, cops have been mowing through the crowds as by orders of NYPD. I’ll share an audio file from a police scanner, of New York cops being authorised to drive through the crowd (press the image below).

And here’s a picture I took last night of a kid, probably sixteen or seventeen confronting some fifty cops. Sorry it’s not that clear because the camera was covered with CS gas.

It is night, a foggy camera (obscured by CS Gas) shows a young man facing a line of bright lights, which are being held by Seattle police.
Teenager confronts a line of cops 2 June 2020, Seattle

What’s happening with the activists who have been arrested?

Since Friday everyone who has been arrested has stayed in jail for the most part. They’ve closed the courthouse down and they are not holding bail hearings for non-violent offenders, so essentially people are being held, there’s nothing. Seattle doesn’t have a large jail so in the age of coronavirus, that’s really terrifying. We instruct everyone to write telephone numbers on their bodies, legal defence funds, but a lot of legal advocates are unable to get access to the courthouse. There are thousands of legal aid funds and people wanting to show solidarity with us can donate to https://bailfunds.github.io/.

Looking back at the late 60s, early 70s, the radicalised black movement, especially in the form of the Black Panthers, took bearing arms against the state about as far it could and ultimately got marginalised. How can it win this time?

Really, the Black Panthers were radicalised by the state. The Black Panthers started the free lunch programme. Everyone has this image of the Black Panthers running around with guns all the time, being intimidating. It’s not actually the case. The Black Panthers being armed was a response to the police state.

Yes, but if that happens again now, I think it will only ever be a small minority taking up arms and that it will lose.

I don’t think that’s actually the case. Even here, with our two socialist council members and $16 minimum wage, the logo for Seattle is ‘coffee and guns’. We have Starbucks and guns. Even here, if they start firing with live rounds instead of rubber bullets, well there’s more of us than there are of them. What are 700 cops going to do against ten thousand armed people?

Well, if the ten thousand are prepared to take over, that’s fine. My concern is that the strength of the spontaneity is also a weakness. What’s to stop it degenerating into something like the Weathermen?

Fair, but there is no way to overthrow something, to end a regime, without violence. Do you think the French walked up to Versailles and said, ‘pardon’?

I think there has to be a mass movement behind a successful insurrection. I’m trying to get a clearer picture of this movement. I’d just be worried that Trump will escalate the crisis and there will be saboteurs trying to create horrific examples so as to have a backlash. And in the past I feel that the American elite have learned to isolate radicals in this way. But your feeling is that if they start using live rounds the movement will hit back. Are we on the edge of such a scenario?

Any good will that the cops still have, if they take live fire at United States citizens, especially at the behest of the military and the national guard: it’s gone. Literally half of what Trump said yesterday was about using the Insurrection Act to deploy the regular military, not just the National Guard, into states without the permission of governors.

If that triggered a popular response and your ten thousand people swept away the police, what would happen next?

That’s a really hard question because of the diaspora of leadership. That becomes a problem because nobody has a single point to rally around. Seattle, however, has a pretty remarkable city council and more than normal activity when it comes to civic duty. Our voting is very high. So I can’t imagine that the city officials – who, with the exception of the Mayor, have been largely on the side of the protestors – would allow confusion to go on for too long.

What would victory look like? What would the protestors consider a victory?

Defunding of the police and a complete start from scratch. The cops in the US are descended from slave catchers and they haven’t stopped that. Enforcing a racist system makes you a racist. Without a complete dismantling of the system and rebuilding, this doesn’t get solved. I’m sure that’s not the goal for everyone but it is the goal for the majority of the people.

So jailing the cops concerned isn’t enough?

No, it’s too late for that. If they had done that at the beginning, most likely this wouldn’t be happening. But they didn’t.

A protestor holds up a green banner on which is written: We Demand Police Accountability.
The murder of George Floyd has triggered
a movement that challenges the entire
nature of the police

They waited until that cop’s life was in danger and then they arrested him to protected him. His wife left him to protect his assets. It’s so transparent that it’s almost laughable. Here, we were watching the protests last night and I had two live feeds, one from the ground and one from the air, plus the traffic cameras and every crowd member was staring down the cops, shouting, ‘you protect property, we protect the people.’

What’s going to happen next?

There’s big protests and there’s always little ones too. Today they are holding a specific rally to defund the police.

A flyer for a rally in Seattle to Defund Seattle Police, 3 June 2020

Are the police going to lose?

I honestly can’t imagine this going any other way. It’s going to escalate until the police are gone and it just gets worse every night they take unprovoked action, which is every night. And every day there’s more people on the protests.

Filed Under: All Posts, Protests Ireland

Reading Lenin in the light of the collapse of the SWP and the ISO

22/04/2020 by Conor Kostick 3 Comments

A comparison of Tony Cliff’s Lenin: Building the Party with Paul Le Blanc’s Lenin and the Revolutionary Party

A clear, deep blue sky against which is a sunlit statue of Lenin, pointing to the viewer's left, palm open. His own left hand hold's the lapel of his coat for balance and his expression is determined. A 1954 Communist vision of Lenin.
The ISO self-destructed, the UK SWP shrank to a rump and the Irish SWP dissolved: what does that mean for the interpretation of Lenin that they shared, one derived from Tony Cliff’s book Lenin: Building the Party?

In 2013, not long after the British SWP went into dramatic convulsions over the way their party failed to support a young member in her allegation that a very much older and more senior member had raped her, I had reason to be in Chicago. While there I met up with the International Socialist Organisation (at the time a relatively successful example of a revolutionary party), gave a talk on Ireland’s revolutionary years and attended a dayschool of theirs on Lenin and the revolutionary party. The bookstall had copies of studies of Lenin by Lars Lih, Paul Le Blanc and Tony Cliff.

Anyone wanting to encourage the development of a revolutionary party has, of course, to form an opinion of Lenin. Before the ISO fell out with their British equivalents (i.e. the SWP), their approach to Lenin would have been profoundly if not exclusively shaped by the British SWP and in particular by the leading figure in that party, Tony Cliff. It interested me that the ISO had a wider outlook on the subject than was usual in the SWP and the enthusiasm of the bookstall organiser meant that I came away with a copy of Paul Le Blanc’s Lenin and the Revolutionary Party.

The cover of Paul Le Blanc's Lenin and the Revolutionary Party. A collage of a picture of Lenin speaking outdoors with a march of women workers. Black and white with a red bar dropping down from the top right corner with the author's name.
The cover of Paul Le Blanc’s Lenin and the Revolutionary Party

This book was first published in 1990 and I had never read it because having inhabited a rather closed-minded organization, I felt there was little that someone closely aligned to the politics of Ernest Mandel would have to say on the subject that would be useful. After all, as I was told and believed at the time, I had been guided in my understanding of Lenin by someone with vastly superior politics to those of Mandel: Tony Cliff. More than this, as an SWP organiser in the UK and then in Ireland I had always used Cliff’s Lenin: Building the Party as the essential text for explaining the theory behind SWP party-building methods to those members who I anticipated would go on to play leading roles in their branches and nationally.

A photo of the jacket of the 1986 edition of Tony Cliff's Lenin: Building the Party (Bookmarks). The title is in thick black letters across the middle of a white cover, beneath a picture of a barricade taken during the 1917 revolution. The word Lenin is in mauve, in. the bottom right corner.
1986 edition of Tony Cliff’s Lenin: Building the Party (Bookmarks)

The ISO – in the words of one of their organisers – said at the time that they drew on a canon of the best of other traditions and individuals to inform their attitude to Lenin and the lessons for today in regard to the revolutionary party. This sounded admirably open-minded. But I couldn’t help wondering if this willingness to promote other studies of Lenin than that of Cliff was, in fact, a watering down of the revolutionary Lenin in favour of a more Occupy-friendly version.

Given the 2019 collapse of the ISO, it is also reasonable to ask whether a move away from their traditional, if one-sided, reading of Lenin contributed to the crisis?

Then too, there was the 2018 submergence of the Irish SWP (I was a member at the time they voted to become a network within People Before Profit, yet I had no opportunity to vote on the decision; no documents were sent to me for consideration; no invitation was made for me to offer my views. I accidentally discovered from an online post that the party I thought I was a member of had gone). When you combine this with the self-destruction of the ISO and the rape-apologist behaviour of the UK SWP, the word ‘crisis’ is barely strong enough to encapsulate what has happened to parties of this type, who were once all thriving and united in a common organisation: the International Socialist Tendency.

It seemed evident to me that the failure of these parties meant that every aspect of SWP theory had to be looked at again with new eyes. Moreover – somewhat reluctantly, since it was time consuming – I felt that I had to make more of an effort to re-examine my attitude to Lenin. Without doing so, I was missing out in regard to developing my own understanding of the issues of party of class in an age when new means of communication mean some of the the old certainties, such as the essential role of the physical newspaper (a major topic in Cliff’s book), were fast becoming obsolete. So I reread Cliff and studied Le Blanc.

Side by side: Tony Cliff vs Paul Le Blanc on Lenin

The first thing to say about these books is that the story they tell is an inspiring one. Lenin became a Social Democrat (i.e. Marxist) in 1893, at the age of 23. Twenty-four years later, at 47, he led the successful Russian Revolution. Trotsky met revolutionaries in 1896 at the age of 17; he was 38 when he oversaw the October insurrection. Reading again the story of Lenin reminded me that when I became a revolutionary, during the great miner’s strike of 1984-5 in the UK, I thought that by now I would be living in a post-revolutionary era. After all, it took only twenty-four years for Lenin to go from next-to-nothing to the 1917 revolution.

It is worth noting that the experience of Western revolutionaries 1985 – 2020 has been a low-key one in comparison to the storms experienced by Lenin and Trotsky’s generation or that of the next. This, of course, is about to change and one reason why I’m delighted to have come through the experience of having COVID19 is because socialist politics are clearly going to be relevant in the 2020s.

At the deepest level, the crisis of the International Socialist Tendency is explained by this relative historical quiescence. Although the specific problems that arose in the UK and the USA deserve close analysis (with particular attention being paid to the question of who controlled their assets, worth a great deal), there’s a reasonable chance that the flaws in these parties and especially the emergence of a predatory male elite would not have become fatal had their members been engaged with the ebbs and flows of profound social upheavals such as those dealt with by Lenin. They would have been more deeply rooted in working class communities who would not tolerate the kinds of behaviour that ultimately brought them down.

Lenin’s efforts to build a revolutionary party from 1893 onwards are fascinating and deserving of scrutiny because they culminate in his having decisive influence over the October revolution of 1917. The twists and turns and dialectical inversions and leaps of the development of the Bolshevik party, even in the quiet years, are compelling to read about, because each argument at every stage really mattered. Each conference, debate, new pamphlet, new recruit, split, had consequences that rippled out over time to affect millions. Both books grasp this process well and while Le Blanc’s is the more scholarly in an academic sense, Cliff’s holds up surprisingly well in terms of the effort he made to contextualise each moment of the drama.

Neither author was able to access untranslated Russian source material directly. Cliff was perhaps the more eager to seize upon a tiny detail in a memoir to illuminate a particular moment. Le Blanc prefers to sum up contextual situations by reference to a secondary source, usually a work, to be fair, that is based on a detailed study of the Russian sources. Opening Lenin and the Revolutionary Party at random and finding an example, this type of statement is typical (p. 234): ‘As Hasegawa writes, “by the fall of 1916 the [Menshevik] workers’ group was obviously losing ground to the Bolsheviks and to regain its lost influence among the workers, the workers’ group turned leftward in December 1916.”’ This methodology is often unsatisfactory, as often the point being made by the secondary work comes across as an assertion without foundation. I wanted to see the primary evidence for the point being made.

Another difference between the books is that Le Blanc makes more of an effort to contrast his reading of Lenin with those of right wing or social democratic authors. This works to a certain extent, in ‘rescuing’ Lenin from the stereotype of the ruthless Machiavelli, but it surrounds the story with a commentary that is much less interesting than Cliff’s if your focus is the question: what does this all mean for revolutionaries today? In other words, there is no question but that Le Blanc’s is a much more helpful book for a student battling against ideologically driven attacks on Lenin. But for building the party, Cliff’s approach, potentially, has the advantage. At various points, Cliff puts the breaks on the narrative to digress with generalisations about party building and it is these generalisations that served for years to inform the practice of those on the SWP branch, district and national committees both in the UK and Ireland.

Cover of the 1994 pamphlet, The SWP versus Lenin by Ian Land. Mostly black, a white stencil of Lenin's face is in the lower two-thirds, with the details of the book at the top. Red, white and black colours only
Ian Land’s 1994 critique of Cliff’s view of Lenin remains the most insightful

I say ‘potentially’ because of course, the conclusions about the revolutionary party that Cliff drew do not, in fact, have the emancipatory power I once thought they did. Here, I think the best critique of Building the Party comes from Ian Land in 1994.

The cover of Lars Lih's Lenin Rediscovered. A Kandinsky background, mostly yellow, with the book details in a brown box in the centre upper half.
Lars Lih, Lenin Rediscovered

Lars Lih does an impressive job of overthrowing various paradigms concerning misrepresentations and misunderstandings of Lenin (not only those of Cliff), using 600 pages of densely sourced argument in his book Lenin Rediscovered. And that is very valuable. But to understand what particular lens was distorting Cliff’s view of Lenin you only need a few lines. In Cliff’s experience of leading the SWP, you had to battle hard for a new orientation for the party and the people you were battling against were those who had most immersed themselves in the old orientation. Your weapons? Exaggeration and youth. Cliff was expert in galvanising the openness of new members to new tactics to turn them against older members who might resist the new course.

So we learn this about the young Lenin from Cliff:

This readiness to bend the stick too far in one direction and then to go into reverse and bend it too far in the opposite direction was a characteristic that he retained throughout his life. It was already clearly apparent at this early stage of his development as a revolutionary leader.

Later, in discussing the rules of the party, Cliff wrote:

An overformal party structure inevitably clashes with two basic features of the revolutionary movement: (1) the unevenness in consciousness, militancy, and dedication of different parts of the revolutionary organisation; and (2) the fact that members who play a positive, vanguard role at a certain stage of the struggle fall behind at another.

If you are trying to explain to a party member why, having campaigned on a certain issue in a particular fashion, the party is now doing something radically different, these formulations are a great help. They address an important truth, which is that the currents of revolutionary politics are fast changing and the party has to be able to make swift turns and not be trapped, for example, by the moralism of a declining campaign, into substituting for a real movement. Nor must a revolutionary party be afraid of pouring every resource behind a critical strike, say. But Cliff’s formulations address this truth in a one-sided fashion.

Is it accurate to characterise Lenin as believing he was being excessive but that the outcome would justify his exaggerations? In other words, was Lenin willing to deliberately present a distorted picture of the world to win his perspective? In short, the answer is ‘no’. Le Blanc and Lars Lih and my own reading of Lenin’s works convince me that fundamentally at every stage Lenin believed that the truth was on his side, at least until events proved otherwise. Holding doggedly to a particular focus and task for the party is not the same as telling the party something which deep down, you do not actually believe, but which you consider expedient.

Here’s how one staunch defender of Cliff puts it in more recent times:

Cliff had learned from experience that shifting an organization of several thousand members (as oppose winning an academic or historical debate) from one strategic orientation and one way of working to another to meet the challenge of changed circumstances, required an almighty great tug on the relevant levers and, sometimes, a certain exaggeration. For Cliff achieving the desired end was more important than terminological exactitude or consistency and he rather thought, as do I, that Lenin felt the same way. http://johnmolyneux.blogspot.ie/2006/11/lihs-lenin-review-of-lars-t-lih-lenin.html

There is an evasion here. The argument is not whether Lenin was fussy about terminology but whether Lenin ever felt it necessary to deliberately exaggerate ‘to achieve the desired end.’ John Molyneux believes so. I do not. Lenin was fully aware the dialectics of revolutionary socialism do not allow for the separation of means and ends. The means you adopt will shape the end you arrive at. The moment you cease to tell the truth, no matter how unpalatable or how it works against the point you want to make, is the moment you abandon the prospect of realising a socialist society. I say this for entirely practical as well as moral reasons.

Secondly, look again at the question of party structure. It is an observable fact that all revolutionary parties are uneven, Cliff’s (1), but (2) is not as clear cut as it seems because it contains a value judgement. Who decides whether a member is falling behind? While another member is being ‘positive’? The true test has to be in regard to how effective the respective members are in changing the world. And judging that effectiveness is a complicated matter, where collective decision-making, honest accounting and democratic forms are essential. But in Cliff’s hands, this piece about rules can be read as follows: rules are all very well, but when some idiot is dragging the party down, it is necessary to find those who are getting results and use them to smash the conservatives, even if that means violating formalities.

Anyone expelled – or rapidly thrust from leading bodies within the SWP – by Cliff in the UK or Kieran Allen in Ireland will be familiar with what this depiction of Lenin meant in practice. But I think this depiction of Lenin also helps explain something of the attitude of those who have been in these parties for a long time and unfailingly endorse the initiatives of the leadership. Such long-term members have internalised the same ideas as profound revolutionary truths, which leads them to reason along the following lines: ‘I don’t want to be like the committee-men of 1905 who resisted the party’s turn to the class, therefore I will overcome my reservations and embrace the latest line. After all, this is the best way to test a perspective.’

Over time, the membership of the party learn to accept (and justify to themselves and others) that they have no meaningful input into the creation of new initiatives or the party’s position on crucial issues. This is in marked contrast to the vigorous and lively internal life of the pre-1917 Bolshevik party.

As a guide to the nature of a successful revolutionary party, Cliff’s interpretation of Lenin’s approach to rules only works if the party leader is always right. But who judges the judge? Who corrects the leadership when they are wrong? History? History has made its judgement upon Cliff’s party and its associates.

If Cliff’s Building the Party is flawed in this way, i.e. flawed at the points where it addresses the methodology of ‘stick bending’, is Le Blanc’s Lenin and the Revolutionary Party the better tool for guiding revolutionaries in the theory and practice of building the revolutionary party? I don’t believe so. In fact, despite the criticism I’ve just made, I’d rather give someone Cliff’s book, mainly because of its activist focus. Le Blanc’s is a very good history written by someone with a clear understanding of the political stakes in the various debates but it has half an eye on academia. This means the standard of scholarship is high, but at the cost of the book being less of a manual for revolutionaries. It also has some political weaknesses, perhaps the most important being the failure to articulate the full scope of Lenin’s anti-imperialism. The author has a soft spot for the Sandinistas, bringing them up to the level of the Bolsheviks, and also for Cuba. This means Lenin’s emphasis on not giving anti-imperialist movements ‘communist colouring’ is entirely lost.

Where does this leave me in regard to reading Lenin? I’m faced with a situation where an uncritical approach to Cliff’s works no longer serves, but where there is no obvious single alternative. Best, then, to read a variety of books from different perspectives and, of course, the works of Lenin himself.

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There are two worlds

11/04/2020 by Conor Kostick 2 Comments

A grey sky with a rainbow, which touches the roof of the Mater hospital, Dublin.
A rainbow over the Mater hospital ICU

There are two worlds.

In one, people try to occupy themselves at home, maybe spend time in the garden where the birds are so lively just now, or watch TV or – although I found my concentration levels weren’t up to it – do something creative.

The other is darker and consists of those with COVID19.

Having crossed the invisible barrier into the latter, I had an intense realisation of these two worlds as I walked my partner to the emergency tent at the Mater hospital. It was sunny, probably, and there were so many normal people around: a group of builders, smoking and chatting, united by their day-glo jackets; two hospital staff, ID badges swaying, smiling; a large man just standing there on the corner of the road and – evidently unconcerned by our masks and her being in a dressing gown – not inclined to move. We skirted him.

I squeezed her hand one last time and watched from the entrance as the two staff members took her details then brought her further in. It occurred to me that this might be my last ever sight of her, but I told myself not to be alarmed, that she was much safer in their ‘yellow’ ward than at home. That she was lucky, in fact, because perhaps soon they would be turning away people who need monitoring for lack of staff.

And then I went back to the car and the waiting kids, along a street with the other world all around me.

One in which the sun was probably shining.

Dawn, Easter Saturday and she’s home. I’m lying on a mattress outside her door, like Cú Chulainn at the threshold of his king, my namesake. Outside, a pigeon is asking over and over, ‘look, can we, tee de?’ When it stops, the far sweeter chirp of a robin takes its place, but so rapid is the robin’s voice that even Democritus would have struggled to understand him.

Ever since we hung out a bird feeder, we have had a pair of robins in our back yard. I’m sure they are nesting in the thick, thorny bush that I was supposed to trim. I’m glad I never got around to that task, because our neighbour has a very attentive cat, who likes to walk on the top of the wall. He cannot get past the overgrown bush, no matter how carefully he tries to place his paw.

Heart irregularity, high blood pressure. In need of several days of bed rest. But her lungs are fine. Well, pneumonia to be sure, but mild. So long as she can rest in quiet solitude, she should get through this. Quiet solitude. That’s why I sleep at the door, for while the elven-year-old and the eight-year-old understand and respect the rules, we have a three-year-old who does not understand boundaries.

She’s awake already and after considering my unexpected presence says, ‘I don’t want you there.’ When I fail to disappear, she begins crying. Like the dawn birds, there is a cycle to the cry. ‘I want my mummy’, over and over. Not too much of a shriek, more an unhappy insistence. Every five chants I offer an explanation that I know won’t be accepted, but perhaps my gentle tone of voice does some good because she settles.

It helps that the eight-year-old, having woken, announces that there are eighteen hours and seventeen minutes until Easter. He started that timer three days ago.

Delighted with the prospect of chocolate and understanding that it is imminent my three-year-old is immediately cheerful. And it makes me realise there is a power in her refusal to see boundaries. I just have to follow her and I will find the way back.

A path between trees, in the foreground it is light, in the distance it is dark. A little child is holding the hand of an adult at the boundary.

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The Connaught Rangers’ Mutiny of 1920

11/03/2020 by Conor Kostick 15 Comments

Dagshai prison, northern India, where 88 Connaught Rangers were imprisoned after mutinying in 1920. In a valley between two hills is a long building with grey triangular roof and whitewashed walls and arches. A mist fills the skies and the whole is rather bleak.
Dagshai prison, northern India, where 88 Connaught Rangers were imprisoned after mutinying in 1920

One of the most extraordinary acts of defiance against the British Empire took place in India on 28 June 1920 when four Irish soldiers, members of the British army, thousands of miles from home, decided to protest against the suppression of the independence movement in Ireland. The soldiers belonged to the Connaught Rangers and were stationed at the north of the country in the Wellington Barracks, Jullundur (modern day Jalandhar). At eight a.m. that morning, Joseph Hawes, Patrick Gogarty, Christopher Sweeney and Stephen Lally, all members of C Company, approached an officer they felt they could trust, Lance Corporal John Flannery, and told him that they wished to ground arms and cease fighting for the British Army due to the oppression of their friends in Ireland.

Jim Hawes, one of the initial instigators of the Connaught Rangers mutiny is shown in a full length black and white portrait. He wears the uniform of the Munster Fusiliers, his peaked hat resting on a table against which he leans, hands in pockets, a nonchalant expression on his face.
Joe Hawes, one of the leaders of the mutiny, in the uniform of the Munster Fusiliers

Joe Hawes had been on leave in Clare in October 1919 and had seen a hurling match proclaimed by troops with bayonets drawn. He had spoken about this with his colleagues (plus another man, William Daly) the night before and had made the point that they were doing in India what the Black and Tans were doing in Ireland. Their garrison was only ninety kilometres from Amritsar, where a massacre of Indian civilians had been carried out by British Indian soldiers less than a year earlier.

The four men wanted Flannery to have their addresses in Ireland in case their protest would led to their immediate execution. If they were going to die, they wanted to the true reason to be made known to their families. Then reporting to the guardroom, the protesters voluntarily asked to be arrested for being ‘in sympathy with Ireland.’

Joe Hawes and the start of the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers in Jullundur 1920

This initial action, however, rapidly changed from being one where a few individuals would prefer imprisonment and the risk of execution to continuing in their role as British soldiers to a full-blown mutiny of hundreds of men. Soon after the protest had begun, excited groups of soldiers gathered here and there in barracks talking about the stand being made by their four comrades. At that time, half of C Company, fifty men, were away in the Solon barracks (guarding an important route from Delhi to Simla). This left forty-six soldiers of the company who formed up for parade at nine a.m., with Hawes, Gogarty, Sweeney and Lally conspicuously absent. Another soldier stepped out of line, Jimmy Moran, and announced that he wanted to join his comrades in the guard room. With that action, the discipline of the remainder of the company shattered and twenty-nine more members of C Company, plus the (armed) duty guard himself joined the protest.

A black and white picture of a large parade ground with a very big building at the top of the picture. It is Jullundur barracks and has two floors, arched decorations around the windows and a triangular roof.
Jullundur Barracks, scene of the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers in 1920

Now thirty-five strong, the mutineers entertained themselves by singing rebel songs and shouting ‘Up the Republic!’. When the two-hundred strong B Company, who had been away at the nearby rifle range, returned and heard the commotion, the soldiers – still bearing their weapons – made their way to the guardroom and a lively discussion took place with the prisoners. Colonel Deacon, officer commanding, thought he could successfully challenge the mutineers in front of his men and so ordered B Company to sit on the steps of a bungalow nearby.

Colour photo of Jullundur barracks, where the mutiny of the Irish national sympathisers in the Connaught Rangers is still remembered. In modern times the arched building has an upper floor or orange brick and a large whitewashed ground floor, with tall arches and red and black horizontal lines painted towards the bottom.
The guardroom today, where the mutiny of the Irishmen in the British army is still remembered in India.

Deacon then had the protestors line up in front of the sitting men and proceeded to harangue the rebels, attempting to shame them with the great history of the Connaught Rangers; working himself up to tears with the regiment’s proud record; all their various honours. The colonel then offered to forget the whole matter if the protestors returned to their bungalows. Hawes, a private and therefore on the lowest rung of the military hierarchy, nevertheless stepped forward, uncowed and defiant, and confronted the senior British officer: ‘All the honours in the Connaught flag are for England and there are none for Ireland but there is going to be one today and it will be the greatest of them all.’ A resulting attempt to isolate Hawes was thrown back by the mutineers marching off in good order back to the prison with their hero safely among them. Humiliatingly for Deacon, when he now attempted to order B Company to move on, they refused to leave. Instead, they swarmed over to Hawes and his friends, leaving Deacon distraught. The other senior officers, along with NCOs hurried away as the rank and file soldiers realised they had the upper hand and could take over the whole barracks.

Rebel British soldiers form a committee and take over the Jullundur barracks

Urging Hawes to lead them, the crowd of Connaught Rangers released all the protesters from the guardroom and rallied as many other soldiers as they could. A rebel muster took place with around 300 participants. They elected seven soldiers to be their committee: Joe Hawes and Patrick Gogarty – two of the original protesters – along with John Flannery as messenger to the officers and Jimmy Moran, J.A. McGowan, Paddy Sweeny and James Davies as the other members. The Union flag was removed from a bungalow occupied by the rebels and replaced with a hastily sewn Tricolour.

Now in firm control, the mutineers doubled the guard; distributed the task of making regular patrols; placed a permanent guard to monitor the senior officers (to ensure they didn’t attempt any rash action that might lead to violence); put a guard on alcohol; and commissioned a hundred green, white and orange rosettes from the local bazaar. According to an army telegram of the time, the attitude of the men was respectful but ‘obdurate in their refusal to perform any military duty.’ That day, too, they sent messengers off some two hundred kilometres to A Company, who were stationed at Jutogh and the other half of C Company, who were in barracks at Solon.

A book cover illustration. In red writing: Mutiny for the Cause. Four British soldiers have taken down the union flag, which is on the ground, while one of them hauls up the Irish tricolour. Another, to the right of the flag pole, leaps in the air, hat held high. In the background is a barracks and several other soldiers with raised hands.
Mutiny for the Cause: cover of Sam Pollock’s
book on the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers in 1920

Frank Geraghty of Castleblayney, Co. Monaghan, was one of the mutineers who travelled to Solon and his background gives the lie to the official account of the mutiny by a regimental historian anxious to dismiss it as the action of ‘green recruits’. As Geraghty said in an interview, ‘I had served in France from January 1915 to the end of the war and had been wounded twice. And despite all my service, by mutinying, I knew what I was doing. But the news coming from Ireland disturbed my mind to such an extent that I was quite prepared to suffer anything, irrespective of what it might be.’

Of the sixty-one men subsequently tried for mutiny, most were veterans of the Great War, and, indeed, thirty of these had been in the British Army for more than five years: five bitter years in which several of them had fought at the Battle of Loos in 1915 and in a grim, cholera-stricken campaign around Baghdad from 1916 – 1918, before moving towards Egypt and engaging in a fierce encounter with German and Turkish troops near Jaffa in 1918, not to mention their notable achievement in capturing a Turkish artillery column.

These veteran soldiers were not afraid of fighting, nor had they mutinied as a result of inexperience and dismay at what being a soldier actually meant. They were profoundly aware of the vast power of the British war machine and up until 1920 had played their part in it. Now, however, times had changed. Joe Hawes later explained, ‘When I joined the British Army in 1914, they told us we were going out to fight for the liberation of small nations. But when the war was over, and I went home to Ireland, I found that, so far as one small nation was concerned – my own – these were just words.’

In the face of these politically resolute soldiers, it was difficult for the authorities to regain control. Major N. Farrell of ‘B’ Company, Connaught Rangers, tried to get his men to obey their officers once more and warned them that the mutiny would play into the hands of Indian nationalists and that they would all be slaughtered. To this, Hawes answered spiritedly, ‘if I am to be shot, I would rather be shot by an Indian than an Englishman.’ Local Indian feeling was, in fact, sympathetic to news of the mutiny of Irish soldiers in the British army. In Delhi, the popular newspaper Fateh reported the mutiny of the Irish soldiers as an implementation of Gandhi’s strategy of civil disobedience, demonstrating ‘how patriotic people can preserve their honour, defy the orders of the Government, and defeat its unjust aims.’

Some of those involved in the mutiny felt, too, that there was a real hope of an alliance with those involved in India’s struggle for independence. Stephen Lally, one of the leaders of the Jullundur mutiny and later a member of the IRA, recalled: ‘I thought we might as well kill two birds with the one stone, and if we could get the Indian National Movement with us it would mean a great victory not alone for Ireland but India as well . . . we could have officered the Native ranks and in a very short time India would have gained her freedom.’

A physical map of northern India in light green and yellow. A white border runs from top to bottom towards the left, beyond which is Pakistan. A purple arrow points to Jullundur and another to Solon. The letter barracks is directly north of Delhi at the start of the Tibetan mountain range.
Just 90km south east of Amritsar, where British soldiers had killed hundreds of civilians in 1919 was the barracks of Jullundur, the site of the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers that began on 28 June 1920

The mutiny spreads to Jim Daly and the Connaught Rangers in Solon

For the first two days, it did seem that momentum was with the rebels. Frank Geraghty recalled his mission to spread the mutiny to the rest of C Company in Solon.

On the 30 June 20, I with private Patrick Kelly, were detailed to go to Solon in the Simlar hills to communicate the fact that the troops in Jullundur had mutinied and to give the reason for the mutiny and to give instructions also that the mutiny, if they did mutiny, would be on the lines of passive resistance with no violence. I appealed to James Joseph Daly whom I approached as the most competent man and whom I knew personally wished to carry out an effort to start a mutiny. Daly, I knew, was inclined to the republican movement in Ireland.

A sepia-tinged photograph of 12th Platoon, C Company 1st Battalion Connaught Rangers. Four men sit on the ground in the front row (the second from right having a dog in his lap), eight are seated in the middle row and six men stand at the back. Highlighted in a green box is the young man, front row right hand side. This is Jim Daly, leader of the mutiny at Solon in 1920.
Jim Daly, C Company, 1st Battalion Connaught Rangers and his comrades, several of whom also joined the mutiny at Solon in 1920

Borne in Ballymoe, County Galway and raised in Tyrrellspass, Mulingar, County Westmeath, Jim Daly, was an ‘active sympathiser with Sinn Féin’ and responded with determination to the news from Jullundur. According to the version of events Daly later told to Hawes while they were in prison together, the men from Jullundur had been arrested on arrival at Solon but Daly could hear enough of their messages shouted through the bars to realise the situation. Although only 20 at the time of the mutiny and one of the youngest soldiers, that night he rallied about forty men and marched to the bungalow of the Commanding Officer to announce that they were taking over a bungalow in protest at repression in Ireland. In response, the C.O. told the men they were insane and switching between threats and inducements attempted to return the men to their duty as he saw it. The strongest argument at his disposal was that the action would be futile as they were thousands of miles from Ireland. After a long, hard silence Daly gave a curt response: nothing the C.O. said would avail. The mutineers left for their bungalow, which they named ‘Liberty Hall’, and as with their comrades at Jullundur, took down all the Union flags, hoisted the tricolour, made and wore Irish rosettes on their British Army uniforms and sang rebel songs.

A black and white picture of a young soldier in a uniform that has shorts. He seems to be smirking at the camera. This is a full length portrait of Jim Daly, the republican to whom the rebels at Jullundur looked to spread their mutiny to Solon.
The Jullundur mutineers looked to the known republican Jim Daly to extend their mutiny to Solon and the rest of C Company of the 1st Battalion, Connaught Rangers.

Next day, early on 1 July 1920, Major W.N.S. Alexander and his officers arrived at Liberty Hall and managed to get the mutineers to form up to listen to his address. The Major thought that his arguments were having an influence when:

A man named Daly stood in front of the parade; he informed me that similar action would be taken simultaneously by every Irish Regiment in the Army, and that the news would be published in every paper in the United Kingdom: whatever influence I had said may have had on the less determined of the mutineers was promptly wiped out by this man.

Colonel Woodbridge tried next but again, ‘Daly intervened and succeeded in wiping out the good impression made.’

On the night of 1 July 1920, scouts set by the mutineers at Solon, detected the imminent arrival of British troops. On this news Daly and his followers made a mistake, deciding to offer armed resistance to the recapture of the barracks. Lacking genuine contacts in the Indian nationalist movement, the best hope of the soldiers was not to escape and definitely not to fight against vastly superior forces but, as Hawes had urged, to keep the protest peaceful (despite serious risk of execution).

Led by Daly, about twenty rebels went to the company magazine building to attempt to get hold of their rifles. Earlier in the protest, Fr Baker, the camp priest, had urged the men not to carry arms. Lieut. C.J. Walsh, told the subsequent Court of Enquiry: ‘I was officer I/C of an armed guard mounted on the magazine. At about 2200 hours, four mutineers approached the magazine and tried to rush the Sentry. I covered the leader with me revolver. I cautioned these men and warned then that if they approached any nearer I would shoot them. They went immediately in the direction of their bungalow. About five minutes later an attack was made on the magazine by a number of mutineers armed with naked bayonets. By this time the sentries on the magazine were reinforced by the remainder of the Guard, and all Officers living in the line. The mutineers pressed on toward the magazine, they were challenged at least three or four times, they took no notice of the challenge, and, as a further warning I fired two shots from my revolver into the air. This had no effect, so I fired into the attackers who then withdrew. Shortly afterwards three men were removed on stretchers to the station Hospital, two of whom I heard were dead, and one wounded.’

The dead mutineers were Pte Peter Sears, The Neale, Co. Mayo and Patrick Smyth from Drogheda, who was spectating, rather than participating in the rush. Eugene Egan lived, despite having been shot through the right chest. Following a final desperate challenge by Daly to a bayonet duel with anyone on the other side, the mutiny at Solon was effectively over. With the arrival of loyal troops, the participants were placed under arrest.

British officers try to regain control of the mutinous Connaught Rangers

Meanwhile at Jullundur, Colonel Jackson had arrived to take charge of the crisis for the British army. He was in regular contact with the Commander-in-Chief for all India, General Charles Munroe. Under a white flag, Jackson entered talks with the leaders of the Connaught Rangers mutiny and insisted that they could not win: that the British army was intent on retaking the barracks, even if it required very soldier in India. This was almost certainly the policy decided upon by the authorities as they had already mobilised two battalions, the South Wales Borderers and the Seaforth Highlanders, both of which arrived with artillery and machine guns on 1 July 1920.

Militarily, the position of the rebels was now hopeless, but they continued to protest through passive means and in particular, were resolved not to give up the leaders of the mutiny for fear they would be executed: a very realistic appraisal of the thinking of the senior officers. Although some eighty soldiers abandoned the mutiny at this point, the others, over four hundred strong, marched out to prison camp together and refused to allow their leaders to be isolated. This defiance nearly cost dozens of lives, as the camp was designed to ensure hardship. It had almost no protection from the Indian summer sun and the water supply deliberately inadequate. ‘Inhumane’ was how a Captain Kearney put it and only the intervention of the Connaught Rangers’ medical officer prevented lives from being lost from sickness.

A more immediate prospect of death for the mutineers came from the threat of violence. In the process of being moved to another camp on 2 July 1920, Major Johnny Payne made another attempt to separate the leaders from the body of mutineers. He called out twenty names, which included the seven men on the committee. No one moved, so Payne ordered thirty soldiers to pull out one of the people he had identified (Tommy Moran) from the crowd. These soldiers failed and were disarmed in the physical tussle, leading Payne to order fixed bayonets and soon after, the final order before ‘open fire’, that of ‘five rounds, stand and load.’

Fr Livens, the seventy-year-old army chaplain rushed across to Payne and pleaded with the major, managing to delay the crisis by interposing himself between the soldiers with raised rifles and the prisoners. This was a crucial moment, where just in time a rider came hurriedly over, blowing a whistle to gain attention. This was Colonel Jackson who rebuked Payne in public and took over the command of the loyal soldiers.

Major Payne still had a hand in the subsequent mistreatment of the mutineers, forcing some of them to lie on the bare stone ground for hours with little or no food or clothing. James C O’Shea of Derry contracted a gastric illness that remained with him for the rest of his life. In trying to assert his rights, Payne told O’Shea he was entitled to ‘steel and lead and nothing else.’

Over the following days the British officers managed to whittle down the number of mutineers by offering free pardons to those who returned to duty and assuring the rest that they would face death by firing squad. By mid-July there were 48 former Jullundur Connaught Rangers in prison at Dagshai, where they were joined by Jim Daly and 40 men from the Solon mutiny. Conditions in Dagshai were harsh and they were deprived of all but the most basic sustenance. Private John Miranda died there and his case draws attention to the fact that a number of the mutineers were English rather than Irish. John Miranda was from Bootle in Liverpool. An English Sergeant Woods, who had earned a Distinguished Conduct Medal for his behaviour in France, explained his reasons for joining the mutiny to the Court Martial, ‘These boys fought for England with me, and I was ready to fight for Ireland with them.’

At one point, thanks to the sympathy of the Indian staff at the jail, a group of six rebels, including Hawes and Daly, were able to get outside. In order to address the scarcity of provisions, especially cigarettes, Hawes and Daly decided to raid the canteen at Solon. A successful overnight mission saw them return to the comrades in the prison with their ill-gotten cigarettes. Hawes later explained why they did not simply try to abscond:

It might be wondered why we did not make a break for freedom that night or any other night, but you must remember that we were in an alien country, thousands of miles from home, even unable to speak the language. Everyone would be our enemy both the king’s men and the native Indians to whom none of us could explain our position over the language barrier. Soldiers were not popular in India at that time.

The Court Martial of the Connaught Rangers who joined the mutiny of 1920

The court martial of the rebels, beginning with those considered to be the main leaders of the mutiny, began on 30 August 1920. Eventually 59 Connaught Rangers were given fifteen-year prison sentences, while thirteen men were sentenced to death. Fortunately for most of them, the political situation had swung in their favour. By the end of 1920 a radicalised Irish population were driving back British authority in the country and the generals considered it inexpedient to kill all thirteen out of concern for the possible public response. One man, however, they were determined to carry out the sentence upon: Jim Daly. The problem with commuting Daly’s sentence, as far as a review by Major-General Sir George de Symons Barrow was concerned, was the effect leniency might have on equivalent mutinies of British Indian soldiers. Barrow needed to retain the threat of execution as a palpable one.

Group D of the men facing court martial on 4 September 1920, at the top of the list is Pte. J. J. Daly with his sentence: ‘to be shot’. Picture from National Archives, UK, taken by Paul Stevenson

On 2 November 1920, Jim Daly, then 21, was executed at Dagshai jail where a curfew was in place to avert a rumoured Indian attempt to free him from jail. Years later one of the rebels, Michael Kearney of County Clare could still recall the horrible details of the execution.

I was awakened around dawn by the shattering bang of the death volley from the firing party of twelve. The governor of the prison, a humane man, lets us out of our cells later in the day and we had the melancholy experience of seeing the wall of execution.

The poor body had been almost truncated and some of the men gathered tiny portions of human flesh which adhered to the wall. These sad scraps were laced in a little matchbox and given to Father Baker to be buried with our heroic comrade.

With the Treaty negotiations at the end of 1922 came discussion of an amnesty on both sides and the Connaught Rangers who were in prison as a result of the mutiny were specifically included in it, leading to their release on 9 January 1923. Thereafter, however, it was a struggle for many of the men to obtain employment or state support. A campaign for a pension to be allowed the men led to a government report in 1925 that showed fourteen of the ex-mutineers were without work. Following the government refusal of the pension, mutineer John Lyons wrote that ‘those who fought for Ireland fought in vain’. Again, in 1933, a pension was discussed and investigation into the men’s circumstances found that four of the mutineers had died in Poor Law Unions, with six men being out of work. James Devers, who had been among those trying to attack the magazine at Solon was described as being in ‘desperate need.’ Only after the passage of the Connaught Rangers (Pensions) Act of 29 April 1936, were the men were able to claim military pensions from the Irish state based on the time they spent in prison.

Commemorating the Connaught Rangers’ mutiny of 28 June 1920

It should be obvious that the act of defiance by these Irish soldiers was an heroic one that deserves to be remembered and celebrated. To some extent, throughout the twentieth century there were moments that gave the public a chance to express their appreciation of the bravery of the mutineers in risking execution rather than continue to serve in an army that was repressing the national movement. On their return to Ireland there were celebratory meetings and a great deal of enthusiasm for the stand they had made. A poem in the Roscommon Herald, January 1923, gives a flavour of the public mood:

Minced with bullets, their comrade’s

Living flesh

Is spat into their ace,

As if to crush their Irish hearts

Or kill the spirit of their race.

Hopelessly the ruse met blank dismay,

Their determination stronger grew.

Their vows were made and sealed that day

To die for Roísín Dubh.

Had not kind Providence stepped in

And saved them from their doom,

Their hearts would now be lying still

Within the convicts tomb.

On 18 March 1928, a play by M.P. O’Cearnaigh, Flag of India,was performed at the Royal Theatre, Dublin to support the ‘Connaught Rangers Distress Fund’. Veterans of the mutiny paraded along O’Connell St c.1936.

A black and white photograph of a parade outside the GPO, O'Connell Street Dublin, probably taken in 1936. Underneath a banner that reads Connaught Rangers mutiny are seven men in long coats and pulled down hats. In front of them are a row of four women also in long coats and hats. The men were participants in the Connaught Rangers mutiny of 1920.
Veteran participants of the Connaught Rangers mutiny parade outside the GPO.

In the 1950s a campaign grew up to bring back the remains of Jim Daly, the Offaly-Westmeath Old IRA Memorial Committee voting in June 1954 to petition the government to make arrangements for Daly’s body and that of other mutineers to return to Ireland. Soon afterwards a number of local government bodies passed similar motions. The government, however, was not willing to raise an issue that might harm Anglo-Irish relations. In the run up to the 1966 commemorations of the Easter Rising the issue came back to public attention, this time with a precedent having been set in the reburial of Sir Roger Casement in 1965.

Thanks especially to the work of the National Graves Association, not only Daly but Sears, Smythe and Miranda were included in a growing public campaign for the return of the Connaught Ranger mutineers. Ultimately, the campaign was successful (except in regard to John Miranda, who had no family in Ireland) and ceremonies were held in 1970 at Tyrellspass for Daly and Glasnevin Cemetery for Sears and Smythe. Joe Hawes, then aged 77, gave a speech at both events.

Dagshai prison, the yard and wall where Jim Daly was executed. It is a large white building with two small dark windows high, like eyes and a rectangular window off the ground, like an open mouth. A dusty yellow yard in front of the building is where the firing squad formed up.
The wall at Dagshai prison against which Jim Daly was shot; the rifle fire nearly cutting him in two.

As we approached the centenary of the mutiny, an event was planned, which involved the erection of a monument to three of the mutineers who were from Sligo (James Gorman, Martin Boy Conlon and Jack Scanlon) and a series of short talks. Here, however, it should be noted that the effort to find ‘balance’ which caused the Fine Gael government to try to honour the RIC marred the event. For there are many British historians (such as Charles Townshend) – and plenty of Irish ones too – that have very little sympathy for Ireland’s revolutionary past and who construct arguments that belittle the role of figures like Joe Hawes and Jim Daly.

Downplaying the extent of radical Irish nationalism in the mutiny

One of the invited historians was Mario Draper, Lecturer at the University of Kent. Draper’s thesis is that the mutiny was less about Ireland than about discontent with local conditions. He dismisses the explicit testimony of the men that they were braving execution for the sake of Ireland’s national struggle as a ‘narrative of convenience’. In later life, he argues, these men were exaggerating the political side of their protest so as to get adulation and pensions. Instead, it was about local difficulties and poor communication between senior officers and the rank and file. Draper does not provide eye-witness reports to confirm an approach that would no doubt portray Spartacus as a gladiator who was merely disaffected over poor quality food, rather than the existence of slavery.

I, on the other hand, do value the testimony of the men themselves and I do give serious value to the importance of ideals in motivating human behaviour, to the point that people throughout history have been willing to risk their lives to challenge injustice and oppression. So when ‘Tom’ Tierney told Sam Pollock, ‘I didn’t think it was fair that our country should suffer what we fought to stop the Germans doing’, I believe that gives the answer to the apparent contradiction between someone fighting for the British army and yet protesting against the policy of that army in Ireland.

A headstone in Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin. It has faint writing on it and lists fifteen men who were participants of the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers in 1920.
Glasnevin Cemetary monument in honour of the mutineers of the Connaught Rangers

There was many an Irish soldier who joined the British forces during the Great War in the belief they were stopping Germany from exploiting small nations and were earning a reward for Ireland. When, by 1920, it was clear that Britain was straining to the utmost to prevent independence for Ireland and was deploying the Black and Tans in a cruel effort to intimidate the population the same soldiers could experience a deep crisis and a determination to get out of the British army and help the volunteers. This was a journey that is well known for figures like Cork IRA leader Tom Barry and it is entirely plausible that the same considerations shaped the mutiny in the Connaught Rangers in 1920.

Brass badge with a crown on top of a circle. Around the circle are the words Connaught Rangers and in the centre a harp.
Badge of the Connaught Rangers

It is a profound insult to Joe Hawes and his comrades to doubt this was the real reason for the mutiny and to say that in later life they played up their desire to support Ireland’s struggle against the British empire because it suited their self-interest to do so.

Moreover, the contemporary evidence of the British themselves confirms that it was the mistreatment of Irish civilians that was troubling the hearts and minds of the soldiers. Lieutenant-Colonel H.F.N. Jourdain, wrote to the London papers, saying that the men had been ‘led astray by the accounts they had received about the Black and Tans.’ If the real issue behind the mutiny was local discontent why did the mutineers sing rebel songs? Wear green, white and gold rosettes? Fly the tricolour? During the court martial, the men from England who joined the mutiny were asked why they had protested on behalf of Ireland. None of them replied that they had other grievances. Rather, they expressed loyalty for their Irish comrades and sympathy for Ireland.

In 1970, a commemoration took place in Glasnevin cemetery for those who participated in the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers. Pictured is an elderly Joe Hawes, wearing glasses, looking down at a piece of paper from which he is delivering his oration. An army officer in uniform is on the left of the image and is glancing down at Joe's notes.
Joe Hawes reading at a 1970 graveside commemoration of the stand made by the mutineers of 1920.

It is unlikely that the Connaught Rangers who mutinied in 1920 got the 100 year commemoration they deserve from the current event. Fortunately, relatives who have organised in a Facebook group have managed to communicate a more inspiring message than, ‘it was only really about the men being given too much work’.

The mutiny of the Connaught Rangers was an incredibly brave and principled act on behalf of Ireland’s struggle for independence, one that was almost sure to lead to the participants facing the firing squad or many years in prison. That the men were willing to make this stand, rather than continue to serve an army behaving brutally in Ireland, should have been properly honoured in 2020.

Haiku from Gabriel Rosenstock on the Connaught Rangers

With permission from Gabriel Rosenstock, we share this bilingual haiku which was written in response to Lady Butler’s representation of recruitment for the Connaught Rangers in the west of Ireland.

Lady Butler's painting ‘Listed for the Connaught Rangers, recruiting in Ireland 1878’, painted by Elizabeth Thompson, known as Lady Butler. A sombre road leading towards the viewer has two men in peasant clothes walking best a sergeant in the red uniform of the Connaught Rangers a boy, also in the red jacket uniform is just ahead of the new recruits carrying a heavy bad. Two more soldiers are further back on the road. The pale blue sky, mountains and clouds behind the figures are spectacular and there is an air of the men leaving beauty for something dark.
1878 painting by Lady Butler of two new recruits for the Connaught Rangers, a copy of which hangs at Renmore Barracks, the original home of Connaught Rangers.
Éire scriosta  ...
fir thréana ag teastáil
i gcríoch na Gainséise

Ireland in ruins ...
strong men required
where the mighty Ganges flows

Recording of the online public meeting on the mutiny of the Connaught Rangers 28 June 2020

If you enjoyed this feature, you might like to read Conor Kostick’s account of the Kilmichael Ambush, in which the IRA scored their biggest victory over the Auxiliaries, the key British fighting force in Ireland in 1920.

Filed Under: All Posts, Irish Socialist History

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