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Against the Current

Published bimonthly since 1986, AGAINST THE CURRENT is a Solidarity-sponsored analytical journal for the broad revolutionary left. The Sept./Oct. issue features Malik Miah on How Race Fuels the Rightist Agenda, Kit Adam Wainer on Obama's Race to the Top vs. Teacher Unions and Susan Spronk and Jeffery R. Webber interviewing Venezuelan activists Gonzalo Gómez, Stalin Pérez Borges and Luis Primo on the processes of deepening the revolution. Coverage of The Mexican Revolution at 100 continues, featuring an interview with Adolpho Gilly and articles by Dan La Botz, James D. Cockcroft, Heather Dasner Monk, Fred Rosen and Scott Campbell.

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International Viewpoint is the monthly English-language magazine of the Fourth International. IV is a window to radical alternatives world-wide, carrying reports, analysis and debates from all corners of the globe. Correspondents in over 50 countries report on popular struggles, and the debates that are shaping the left of tomorrow.

Put a Socialist in the Senate!

LaBotz, Buckeye Socialist, Senate 2010

Dan La Botz, a 64-year old Cincinnati school teacher, has filed petitions with the Ohio Secretary of State to become the candidate of the Socialist Party for the U.S. Senate. La Botz, who needed 500 signatures to get on the Socialist Party primary ballot, filed petitions with approximately 1,200 signatures on Thursday, Feb. 18. La Botz, a long time labor and social movement activist, is the candidate of the Socialist Party of Ohio which is the state organization of the Socialist Party USA.

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Campaign website- DanLaBotz.com

Order these eye-catching buttons to spread the demand for social and economic justice. If you don't have paypal, email us!


Reads Bail out People, not Wall Street!. Around the edge, these 2 1/8" buttons read "Free Health Care," "Defend Public Services," "Living Wage Jobs," "Free Higher Education," "Troops Home Now," "Rebuild the Gulf Coast," and "Affordable Housing."

Brown and black buttons demand: "Bring all the Troops Home Now!" Wear one everywhere to start a conversation about why US occupation can never be a force for liberation, and people's needs should come before the massive military budget.

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These 2 1/8" buttons read, in Spanish and English: ¡Alto a las deporaciones - Legalización para todos! Stop the deportations - Legalization for all!

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Videos from Solidarity's Educational Conference

November 14-15 in New York City, Solidarity held a successful conference featuring engaging talks on a number of topics. Click here to view these videos from "Their Crisis, Our Movements"

- Crisis of Capitalism, Challenge to the Movements (David McNally, New Socialist Group)
- The New Imperialism and The Global Fightback (Vivek Chibber, Christy Thornton, Jonah McCallister-Erickson)
- The State of Resistance in Communities & the Workplace (Normahiram Perez, Steve Downs, Penelope Duggan)
- Race and National Liberation Under Obama (Glen Ford, Lalit Clarkston)

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Barbara Zeluck Presente!

Our comrade Barbara Zeluck died June 5, 2010. She was a lifelong socialist and founding member of Solidarity. Barbara had a long and active life, unwavering in her support for radical social change and movements that she felt were dedicated to mobilizing the working class and raising class consciousness. She always believed that a better world was possible. Read More...

One Year of Obama and the Democrats’ Debacle

Last fall, in the discussion that produced our analysis of “Obama After 200 Days,” we said it would be premature to speak of a “crisis” for the administration. A year after the euphoric 2009 inauguration, it no longer looks premature. People who looked to Obama and the Democrats for leadership are bitterly disappointed, and a very peculiar brand of rightwing politics has seized the initiative.
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Regroupment & Refoundation of a U.S. Left

As part of the preparation for our 2008 Convention, members of SOLIDARITY have begun a political document describing some perspectives for socialist renewal in the twenty-first century. We welcome responses to this initial draft of the document. Some of the themes here have also been developed in Solidarity's Founding Statement and our 1997 pamphlet, “Socialist Organization Today.”

New Pamphlet: Hell on Wheels

New from Solidarity! Long time transit worker activist Steve Downs has written a pamphlet charting the twenty year story of New Directions, a rank and file caucus in New York City's transit union that he helped build and develop - including the challenges of keeping the rank and file democracy movement alive after New Directions won control of the local.

Read an interview on Zmag.org
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From Abortion Rights to Reproductive Justice

New from Solidarity's Feminist Commission, this leaflet responds to the right wing attack on reproductive freedom and argues that the movement must go beyond "pro-choice" to true reproductive justice. This socialist and anti-racist feminist agenda would take up issues such as access to health and child care, forced sterilization, and the division of "productive" and "reproductive" labor.
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Honoring Black History

Racial Capitalism and the "Digital Divide"

— Malik Miah

THE DIALOGUE ON race and nationality in the United States has always been conducted from the standpoint of the dominant racial group—whites.  Not surprisingly, President Clinton's commission on race produced very little to overcome racism, something that would require facing up to the reality of centuries of white supremacy.

Since Ronald Reagan's presidency, in fact, an accelerating backlash against civil rights has seen many liberals joining conservatives in the illusionary game of pretending that the Constitution is colorblind, and therefore that race and nationality primarily exist as cultural phenomena.

The truth is—as every one knows—that race and nationality have been and remain a central part of U.S. society.  This has been so ever since the first African slaves were brought to the land of the Native Americans in the 1600s.

Why is this important to discuss as we enter the new century and new millennium?  For one thing, the retreat from recognizing the place of race and nationality in American history is intensifying, especially as the age of the personal computers (PCs) and Internet leads many to think racism can be overcome by simply mastering the new technology ("the new power").  It makes it even more important to understand where racism comes from and how it can be eradicated.

Will the computer revolution change how capitalism works?  Will the class struggle become outdated?  Is it possible under a transformation created by this "new economy" to live in a "colorblind" society where race and nationality no longer matter?

The Realities

The 1999 National Urban League report The State of Black America documents the discrimination that Blacks as a people suffer in U.S. society.  Black unemployment remains at the historic level of twice that for whites, even though the latter is at a single digit.  This margin has been fixed, whether during recessions or during the longest economic expansion ever.

While a Black middle class of an unprecedented size and wealth has arisen since the victory of the civil rights revolution of the 1960s, the relative economic statistical gaps (jobs, education, home ownership, health care, life expectancy) are constant.

Because institutional racism is ultimately based on economics—the super-profits corporations and banks make off the special exploitation of colored labor (and of minority communities, through such practices as rent-gouging, higher prices for inferior goods, poor social services, ignoring environmental restrictions, etc.)—it cannot be eliminated without a fundamental restructuring of the state and system.

Simply integrating corporate America and making a few Blacks rich doesn't alter structural discrimination.  The reversals of busing programs to end school segregation, attacks on affirmative action programs and outlawing use of "race" in employment or education as a factor to combat racism, are all part of taking back concessions forced upon the system after the 1960s civil rights and Black power movements.

Just as the system is based on private property and exploitation of workers for the profit of a few, racism as well is an integral part of the system.

Digital Divide

The more revealing recent report, however, is not the Urban League study.  It is a July 1999 report done by the National Telecommunications and Information Administration of the U.S. Department of Commerce, concerning the widening digital divide.  It indicates how race in the "new economy" is just as crucial in Silicon Valley, and the other centers of the information highway, as in our larger society.

The new paradigm points to a future where the racial divide is becoming more pronounced, and where technological power is deepening the institutional discrimination suffered by the African-American population.  It also shows that class issues will again assert themselves as they did 200 years ago with the rise of the Industrial Revolution.

The study, "Falling through the net: defining the digital divide," documents how income and race affect use of computers and the new technology.  "The following examples," the report summarizes, "highlight the breadth of the digital divide today:

"Those with a college degree are more than eight times as likely to have a computer at home, and nearly sixteen times as likely to have home Internet access, as those with an elementary school education.

"A high-income household in an urban area is more than twenty times as likely as a rural, low-income household to have Internet access.

"A child in a low-income White family is three times as likely to have Internet access as a child in a comparable Black family, and four times as likely to have access as children in a comparable Hispanic household.

"A wealthy household of Asian/Pacific Islander descent is nearly thirteen times as likely to own a computer as a poor Black household and nearly thirty-four times as likely to have Internet access.

"Finally, a child in a dual-parent White household is nearly twice as likely to have Internet access as a child in a White single-parent household, while a child in a dual-parent Black family is almost four times as likely to have access as a child in a single-parent Black household.

"The data reveal that the digital divide—the disparities in access to telephones, personal computers (PCs), and the Internet across certain demographic groups—still exists and in many cases, has widened significantly.  The gap for computers and Internet access has generally grown larger by categories of education, income, and race."

Since knowledge of computers and the Internet is so pivotal to new industries and productivity for old ones, the fact that Blacks, who are still overwhelmingly working class in social composition, are falling behind is very much related to the fight for equality and power.

Silicon Valley's Neo-Apartheid

The racial divide will continue to widen if the digital divide is not overcome.  It will not be enough for the traditional and new civil rights groups to focus on issues such as education, housing and jobs in the old way. Our demands must also include wiring the homes of Black families, bringing the new technology into the schools and making sure strong affirmative action programs exist in the Silicon Valleys of the country.

Yet today Silicon Valley uses colored labor in the main for the production of the computers while the engineers and bosses are almost all non-African American.  The color bar is thick.  The class divisions are evident.  And few unions exist.

In an op-ed column in The New York Times (November 28, 1999), novelist Kurt Andersen makes a telling point about the future of cyber-capitalism and the class struggle that you don't often hear, yet hits the nail on the head.

"The 21st century," Andersen writes, "will have its Marx. This next great challenger of the governing ideological paradigm, this hypothetical cyber-Marx, is one of our children or grandchildren or great-grandchildren, and he or she could appear in Shandong Province or Cairo or San Bernardino County.  By 2100, give or take a couple of decades, it's a good bet that free-market, private-property capitalism will be under siege once again, shaken as in 1848 and 1917 and the 1930s by the tremors that the magnificent and ferocious system itself unleashes."

I would add that the Black or Brown or Red or Yellow worker will be at the head of such a new revolutionary upsurge in the United States, and the world.

In other words, "cyber-capitalism" is still capitalism.  The laws of class struggle don't disappear.  National oppression doesn't disappear just because pundits of the ruling class say we live in a "colorblind" society.  "Cyber-capitalism" sharpens the contradictions of industrial capitalism, including the racial divide.

We must therefore begin with the facts of the racism that exists in the world of computers and the Internet.  The power of the 20th century movements for inclusion targeted segregation head-on-something that hasn't yet happened in the digital world.  The latter is projected as benign to issues of race and class, since merit and brilliance supposedly pay fairly for all peoples.  Never mind the fact that most venture capitalists are white and wealthy, and decide what startups to back.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics the three occupations with the fastest job growth from 1996 to 2006 are system analysts, computer engineers and data and computer support specialists.  Jesse Jackson and the NAACP among others are correct to urge more African Americans to learn these jobs—but this is not an option for the vast majority of African Americans attending inferior schools and denied basic entry level jobs.

The divide is not only between whites and Blacks, but between the middle class Blacks and the majority of the community.  The middle class layer sees high tech as a road to power.  In a special December 1999 issue on "Black America in 2020," Emerge magazine discusses the future of the Black nationality.  The editors observe that "the new millennium will require a new way of thinking in a new world."

"As the definition of power takes on new dimensions, technologically and otherwise, so, too, will the concepts of race and ethnicity," write Nat Irvin II and Gina Henderson.  "Part of that is attributable to changing demographics.  In 2020—400 years after Africans were brought to these shores—the U.S. Census Bureau predicts that White Americans will make up 64.3 percent of the population, down from 71.8 percent in 2000; African-Americans will be at 12.9 percent, up slightly from 12.2 percent in 2000; Asian and Pacific Islanders will be at 5.7 percent, from 3.9 percent; American Indians, Eskimos and Aleuts will be hovering at 0.8 percent, from 0.7 percent.

"People of Hispanic origin, who will make up 11.4 percent of the population in 2000, will see their numbers swell to 16.3 percent of the population, making them the country's largest minority group."

The Digital Divide and 21st Century Struggle

What do these numbers signify?  For the growing Black middle class and intelligentsia they represent the possibility of African Americans finally joining in the mainstream where race and color are removed as power factors.  Capitalism in the Black community will flourish and new power bases will be forged to compete without ethnic groups in a truly multiethnic United States where whites are no longer dominant.

This is a utopian and idealist dream since, despite their declining percentage, white Americans will still hold economic and political power.  No ruling ethnic group in any society has willingly handed over their power to other social and economic groups and classes.

But there is significance in the changing demographics as far as Blacks and other minorities getting a bigger piece of the pie and asserting themselves politically and economically.  The battle for full equality—the heart of the freedom struggle of African Americans—now includes getting access to the computer world and the Internet in the 21st century.

How will we gain more control of the new technology in the new millennium?  To do so, the lessons of the past century are very relevant.  It will not be by persuasion and promises by the white ruling strata on Wall Street, in Washington or Silicon Valley.  It will be through mobilizing the Black community, the working class and others outside of power to demand structural changes in the system.  Mass action is key.

Is the digital divide a temporary phenomena or is it a reflection of a retreat back to the white domination of the type seen at the run of the last century?

The editors of Emerge, a middle-class Black publication, see it as a challenge.  They think, as do many others, that the Black community is in the best position to integrate into white society without giving up our cultural identity, and in the process gain more power.

But reality is more complex.  The capitalist system is based on who controls the wealth of the country.  It is not Blacks or other people of color, even if more among them benefit from the system today than any time in history.  (There are numerous Black millionaires.)

The ruling class is based on the white ethnic group, which may be made up of various European peoples originally but in American society color is decisive.  White American identity is a reality even for the newest European immigrant.  They join it at once, whereas third or fourth generation Asians are still "hyphenated" Americans and African Americans are always Blacks first, Americans second.  (A broader consideration of race and nationality in the U.S. will be taken up in a subsequent article.)

It's for this reason that in the next century the digital divide will remain.  Power is and will be maintained within the dominant population—whites—until it is taken by the masses through revolution.  (The state must aggressively enforce laws against de facto discrimination for racism, as opposed to prejudice, to disappear.  The only country that does is Cuba.)

Blacks will continue to demand inclusion and fight to end their institutional second class status—including in the computer and Internet worlds.  The dynamic of such struggles, particularly in periods of the inevitable economic downturn, is a threat to the system.

It is an error to think African Americans can simply get the computer science degrees and the Harvard MBAs, and full equality for the Black nationality will result.  The political power can only be taken.  Business influence will always be limited without political power in Washington.  That's why Jackson's Wall Street program can have only limited benefit for the lives of most Black people.

A Democratic and Revolutionary Future

Political power can't be won by a minority group.  But through alliances with other oppressed peoples and the working class, a revolutionary movement can be built as occurred in revolutionary upheavals (1848, 1917) and the mass struggles of the 1930s.

This is not to say nothing can be done today to influence the new cyber revolution.  I believe the fight to eliminate the digital divide, to improve education and housing and get back affirmative action in hiring, is key to weakening racism and the power of big business.

The future lies in building strong independent Black organizations as well as a broad-based multi-tendency radical organization.  The former must include cultural and revolutionary nationalists, socialists and communists and union militants and church activists.  The formation of the Black Radical Congress in June 1998—with its call for the unity against all forms of oppression, including "class exploitation, racism, patriarchy, homophobia, anti-immigration prejudice and imperialism"—points in the right direction.

The BRC's Black Freedom Agenda is an excellent democratic document for the movement to fight for in the 21st Century.  The battle against structural racism in the digital "new economy" will be an important arena for our struggle.


Malik Miah is a member of the National Committee of Solidarity and an editor of IndonesiaAlert!  His column, "Race and Politics," appears regularly in Against the Current.

ATC 84, January-February 2000

( categories: )

Review: African Americans, Culture and Communism

— Alan Wald

This essay will appear in two parts, the second of which will be published in our May-June 2000 issue (ATC 86).

The Cry Was Unity: Communists and African Americans, 1917-1936 by Mark Solomon (Jackson, Mississippi: University Press of Mississippi, 1998) 403 pages, $17 paperback.

Old Negro, New Left: African-American Writing and Communism Between the Wars by William J. Maxwell (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999) 254 pages, $17.50 paperback.

Popular Fronts: Chicago and African-American Cultural Politics, 1935-46 by Bill V. Mullen (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1999) 242 pages, $16.95 paperback.

The New Red Negro: The Literary Left and African American Poetry, 1930-1946 by James Edward Smethurst (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999) 288 pages, $45 hardcover.

FROM THE EARLY 1920s until the late 1950s, the U.S. Communist movement was a significant pole of attraction in African-American political and cultural life. Only a few prominent African-American poets, fiction writers, playwrights and critics-such as novelist Richard Wright-publicly boasted of party membership.  Yet it seems likely that Margaret Walker, Lance Jeffers, Claude McKay, John Oliver Killens, Julian Mayfield, Alice Childress, Shirley Graham, Lloyd Brown, John Henrik Clarke, William Attaway, Frank Marshall Davis, Lorraine Hansberry, Douglas Turner Ward, Audre Lorde, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Harold Cruse were among those organizationally affiliated in individualized ways.

A list of other African-American cultural workers who were, to varying degrees and at different points, fellow travelers, would probably include Ralph Ellison, Chester Himes, Sterling Brown, Langston Hughes, Paul Robeson, Theodore Ward, Countee Cullen, James Baldwin (as a teenager), Richard Durham, Alain Locke, Willard Motley, Rosa Guy, Sarah Wright, Jessie Fausett, Owen Dodson, Ossie Davis, Dorothy West, Marion Minus, Robert Hayden, Waring Cuney, and Lonne Elder III.

For five decades, students of the left have had access to the reasons why some Black cultural and intellectual figures were eventually dismayed by Communism, through novels such as Chester Himes' The Lonely Crusade (1947), Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man (1952) and Richard Wright's The Outsider (1953), reinforced by Harold Cruse's brutal polemic The Crisis of the Negro Intellectual (1967).  (See note 1)

Less available were richly documented, independently critical, yet compelling explanations of just how and why the Communist movement wielded the attractive power that it did, despite all the obvious disadvantages of being regarded as a "communist" for Blacks as well as whites.  Then, during the 1980s, two scholarly works began to promote a rethinking of the relationship of Blacks to Reds: Mark Naison's Communists and Harlem During the Depression (1983), and Robin D. G. Kelley's Hammer and Hoe: Alabama Communists During the Great Depression (1990).

Now we have four new books in 1998-99 that constitute a quantum leap forward in our ability to understand what was achieved by this symbiotic relationship, and what has been lost in one-sided assaults upon the legacy of Communist-led anti-racist struggles by McCarthyites, Cold War Liberals and some of the Communist movement's left critics, as well as by that movement's incapacity to understand and fairly represent its own remarkable history in the 1930s and 1940s.

The focus of three of the books is on culture, but together they provide a wealth of new detail and conceptual propositions that need to be critically assimilated by those committed to building an interracial movement for social transformation.

The indispensable foundation for appreciating this body of new scholarship is Mark Solomon's stunning narrative of the absorption of revolutionary Black Nationalists and other Black radicals into the post-World War I Communist movement.  His highly nuanced and finely researched The Cry Was Unity treats the consequences of this co-mingling for the development of Communist ideology and activity from the early 1920s through the first year of the Popular Front.

Solomon, a retired history professor from Simmons College, is in a unique situation to assess the experience.  He has been a participant in the anti-racist and radical movement since he was a teenager in the early Cold War years, and is the author of an earlier published doctoral dissertation from Harvard University called Red and Black: Communism and Afro-Americans, 1929-1935 (1988).

Solomon's approach is deftly elaborated in a short Introduction explaining his motivations for recreating the story of how the Communist movement "broke free from isolation and ideological abstractions to achieve a significant place in the battle for racial justice." In contrast to recent liberal discussions, such as President Clinton's "conversation on race," Solomon is pledged to review the early history of the anti-racist left because

The pivotal issues then were neither tactical nor sentimental; they involved the basic character of American society.  Capitalism's cornerstone was seen to have been laid by slavery and fortified by racism.  Therefore, the achievement of equality implied the ultimate transformation of the nation's economic and social foundation.  (xviii)

On the one hand, Solomon's book seeks to elaborate the "theory" of national oppression and the road to liberation worked out by U.S. Communists, Black and white, in their first decade and a half. On the other, his aim is equally to explore the practical activities against which the evolving theory was tested as this heroic, interracial organization rose up against white supremacism "with unprecedented passion as an indispensable requirement for achieving social progress." (xviii)

Most impressive is the way that Solomon triangulates the development of Communist theory and practice by examining Black Marxist activists and theorists, the national Communist party institutions, and the influence of Comintern (Communist International) policy.  In contrast to those who favor the "top down" or "bottom up" approaches to Communist historiography, Solomon presents us with what might be called a "force field" approach in which different elements gain hegemony at various points and under certain circumstances.

The fact that Comintern hegemony might be shown to be paramount over a period of decades and at moments of crisis does not negate how important it was for a group of Black party women in Harlem to raise an issue (unknown to the Soviet party) for debate and discussion.  Without that latter—the local vitality—the attractiveness of the party would be inexplicable (which certainly seems to be the case in many extant narratives of party history).

In rich detail, Solomon's book covers the period of nearly two decades from the founding of Cyril Briggs' magazine The Crusader after World War I to the launching of the party-led National Negro Congress in 1936.  Thus he follows Communist policy through three phases: from the view of a "colorblind" class outlook, to the theory of nationality, to the broadly based "Negro-labor alliance."

The overall structure of the book is divided into three components, recalling the traditional Hegelian triad.  The initial five chapters review the efforts of the first Black Communists to formulate a policy, their interaction with a vision of the Communist International, and the development of a theory (the view of African Americans as "a nation within a nation") and an organization (the American Negro Labor Congress) to realize this project.

Part II presents another six chapters, this time focused on the 1929-33 era of the ultra-revolutionary "Third Period." Solomon convincingly demonstrates his rather disconcerting view that unrealistic visions, aspirations and demands frequently motivated the most heroic projects.  From this perspective he discusses the astonishing courage of party practice in the Deep South, and struggles against eviction, hunger and lynching.

The book marches to a climax at the beginning of the Popular Front when, at last, in Solomon's judgment, the foundation of Black/Labor unity is established.  This is achieved through the success of Peoples Front policy in Harlem and the creation of the National Negro Congress, a multiracial organization under Black leadership.  Within this daunting framework, Solomon presents many discrete episodes worthy of at least a brief survey.

Pioneer African-American Communists

From the very first sentences of the first chapter, Solomon meticulously corrects the record of previous writings on Blacks and Communism, with the kind of scrupulous research only possible from the pen of a scholar committed to learning what really happened because the record matters for life and death struggles.

For example, contrary to earlier studies claiming that no Blacks were present at the founding of the U.S. Communist movement-and an alternative version that two attended-Solomon documents that only Otto Huiswood, born in the Dutch West Indies (now called Surinam) was present.  Huiswood would have been joined by his comrade from the left wing of the Socialist Party, Arthur P. Hendricks, who was born in British Guiana; but Hendricks had just died of tuberculosis.  (Possibly Huiswood's presence was not noticed by some who wrote reports on the meeting due to his light color.)

Although the two militants, and many who would join them, were Caribbean-born, Solomon views the pioneer cadre of U.S. Black Communism as a genuine Harlem-based alliance of immigrants from colonized nations and U.S.-born men and women.  The former tended to have a greater class and anti-imperialist awareness, and a more "assertive psychological makeup" (4), along with a greater degree of formal education.

It is significant that initially, Black revolutionists tended to gravitate around their own institutions, especially the Peoples Educational Forum in Harlem.  One group—Huiswood, Richard B. Moore, Lovett Fort-Whiteman and Grace Campell—soon joined the new Communist movement when the left wing of the Socialist Party was purged.  Another group-Frank Crosswaith, A. Philip Randolph and Chandler Owen-remained with the Socialists.

An additional important figure, Cyril Briggs, also from the Caribbean (he was born on the island of Nevis), was a journalist for Harlem's Amsterdam News.  Briggs was much inspired by the Easter Rebellion in Ireland and committed to the prospects of a decolonized Africa.  He launched The Crusader in December 1918, a dynamic organ of the "New Negro Crowd" that advocated "a renaissance of Negro culture and power throughout the world." (6)

Over the next six months Briggs' journal began drawing the links between capitalism and imperialism, and "projecting a shared proletarian identity between Black and white workers as the counterweight to the dominant system." (7) In Solomon's words, Briggs "merged Black Nationalism with revolutionary socialism and introduced the twentieth century global revolutionary tide to America." (7)

One of Briggs' signal contributions was that he devoted himself to solving the riddle of contradiction between a separate Black national destiny and achieving unity with Euro-American workers.  The first organizational expression of this perspective was Briggs' formation of the African Blood Brotherhood (ABB) in the fall of 1919, which was led by Caribbean-born radicals (with many World War I veterans in its ranks) and would grow to a membership of about 3,500.

The ABB was clearly independent of the Communist movement at the outset.  The various Communist factions were too busy vying for the Moscow franchise to pay attention, and Briggs was simultaneously influenced by an Afro-Centric movement called the Hamitic League, as well as by the rituals (passwords, secrecy, oaths) of the Irish Sinn Fein.

By 1921, when the ABB declared The Crusader its public organ and also gained some notoriety for its association with the armed resistance of Blacks against white attacks in Oklahoma, its leadership had evolved to pro-Communism.

According to correspondence located by Solomon in Comintern archives, Briggs was recruited to the Party by Caribbean poet Claude McKay.  This was facilitated by McKay's having introduced Briggs to a couple of Euro-American Communists with a special interest in Black Liberation-the famous cartoonist from Texas, Robert Minor, and the Jewish-American firebrand Rose Pastor Stokes.  These two were affiliated with the "Goose Caucus," which advocated parallel communist parties, one to be legal and aboveground, while the other party would remain secret and underground.

Still, more important than organizational affiliation is the manner in which Briggs creatively projected strategies and visions for liberation.  Blending a strong "sense of African identity and national culture with Leninist internationalism," he formulated arguments to combine a struggle for an "independent Negro State" (which might be in Africa, although not necessarily) in the process of fighting for a "universal Socialist Cooperative Commonwealth."

Briggs admitted that the independent Black state might not be the ideal route, but that it was understandably necessary in light of the need for "peoples of African descent" to "reclaim their distinct political and cultural heritage." To put it bluntly, "the Negro has been treated so brutally in the past by the rest of humanity that he may be pardoned for now looking at the matter from the viewpoint of the Negro than from that of a humanity that is not humane." (13)

The liberation of African Americans and the struggle for socialism worldwide was theorized by Briggs as an alliance in which a distinct Black agenda remained viable and central.  With Briggs' Communist membership, this program was further clarified so as to provide a clear alternative to the politics of middle-class reform organizations.  Briggs promoted a dramatic switch in the objectives of the African-American liberation movement away from assimilation into the bourgeois order and toward a goal of socialist transformation.  He also urged that the class composition of Black leadership be proletarian and no longer middle class, and that African Americans ally with Euro-American workers instead of white liberals.

Briggs and his comrades were well aware that racism was widespread in the Euro-American working class, and of the history of Blacks being betrayed by false white friends in the past. Thus he held that the left was obligated to aggressively educate against white supremacism in order to facilitate an alliance.

Analogous notions of African American autonomy and alliances also carried over to the predominant attitude of Briggs and his associates toward the Russian revolution.  Solomon observes that

The embrace of communism carried with it a promising connection with Soviet power as indispensable ally, patron, and spiritual guide.  For the new Black Communists the Soviets were an exhilarating source of strength, pride, hope and respect for Black interests.  Heretofore anonymous men and women would now have an international stage where they would be taken seriously and where power was manifest and at the disposal of the Black liberation struggle.  The greatness of Bolshevik power-as an anti-imperialist force, as liberator of labor, as cleanser and avenger of racism, as faithful ally-became an ardent belief and defining point of the African Blood Brotherhood.  (16)

Finally, Briggs certainly believed that, in the long run, Euro-American workers would come to recognize their commonality of interests with Blacks.  Yet he also held that, if Blacks were to devote themselves to the class struggle, there had to be an "acid test of white friendship"—which was the acceptance by Euro-Americans of the right of Black armed self-defense, even if such defense resulted in the killing of whites.  (17)

A Nation Within a Nation

Solomon argues that the pro-Communist evolution of the African Blood Brotherhood profoundly affected the American Communists.  A result was the ultimate transformation of the left-wing "color blind" view of race that prevailed in the early 1920s in both the Communist Labor Party and the Communist Party, most of which fused into the United Communist Party (UCP) in 1920.  (See note 2)  Leaders of the UCP did listen to and learn from the ABB, and their publications and resolutions began to resemble ABB ideas, with one exception—the Euro-Americans omitted the need to fight racism within their political party itself.

It is also true that the May 1921 convention that finally unified all Communist factions did not reflect the new alliance in the composition of its delegates nor in resulting resolutions.  Still, Solomon quotes from internal discussion documents (written under pseudonyms) that show a rich understanding of the complex strategic issues that needed to be addressed.

For example, there was now a recognition that the Black population could not be won over by abstract ideological professions of good will; Communists would have to respond specifically to the "Black ideology" that had developed due to white racist exclusionism.  They would also have to "humanize" their political dealings with African Americans, and fight aggressively for specific reforms (such as voting rights in the South) crucial to allowing Blacks to create their own conditions for developing activity and consciousness.

Simultaneously, Briggs was involved in a bitter battle with Black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey.  Solomon talks candidly of Briggs' collaboration with the Federal government's case against Garvey's Universal Negro Improvement Association (which continually published the claim that Briggs was actually a European, until Briggs took legal action).  Moreover, destruction of the Garvey movement became the obsession of The Crusader.  (See note 3)

In this clash, Solomon sees central themes in the U.S. Black radical tradition.  Briggs held to the view that "racial consciousness alone was not enough to win freedom in the modern world, where power was based partially on race but centrally on corporate, class, national and military forces"; thus he championed alliances with progressive forces around a common interest in socio-economic restructuring.  (28)

Garvey, although anti-colonialist and anti-imperialist, in his determination to create a separate African-based territory, refused alliances with forces aimed at challenging those very seats of power.  Believing that, in the last analysis, white workers would side with white bosses against Blacks, Garvey alternatively attempted to negotiate with governments and even racist forces who likewise favored separation of the "races."

Nevertheless, the Communists would continue to see the ranks of the Garvey movement as a radicalized milieu from which potential recruits might be garnered.

Toward Self-Determination

In a chapter called "The Comintern's Vision," Solomon explains how the Leninist notion of the necessary alliance of working class and national liberation movements as "a linked social process" was closer to that of the former ABB members than the ideas of early Euro-American Communists such as John Reed.

At the 1922 Fourth Congress of the Comintern, in response to presentations by McKay and Huiswood, a multinational Negro Commission was set up under Huiswood's direction (and with McKay as a guest participant).  This body viewed the African diaspora peoples in the framework of colonialism, with Black Americans poised to play a key role in a global struggle requiring Communist backing of all movements of Blacks opposed to capitalism and imperialism.

This perspective probably set the stage for the slogan of "Self-determination in the Black Belt" (which was a region of the South with majority Black population) adopted by U.S. Communists six years later.  Although McKay departed from the conference en route to a stance as an independent radical (eventually converting to Catholicism before his death), Huiswood would become the first Black member of the Central Committee of the U.S. Party, now headquartered in Chicago.

A new figure emerging to prominence by the mid-1920s was Lovett Fort-Whiteman, an African American who had studied at Tuskegee, and who was closely associated with Robert Minor.  Fort-Whitman pursued earlier efforts to get the Comintern to back U.S. Black Communists in internal U.S. policy by forwarding the first concept of an American Negro Labor Congress.

Fort-Whiteman also developed the argument that Blacks perceive oppression as stemming from race more than class, and that such persecution had bonded Blacks of all economic strata together.  Marxism had to be recast to address this unique psychology, and practical work required a dual focus on both the South and problems specific to the great migration in the North (such as the housing crisis in urban ghettos).

Thus, in preparing for the 1925 American Negro Labor Congress (ANLC), Huiswood, Moore and others pleaded for the involvement of Black Communists on all party committees responsible for the gathering, for the party not to push itself aggressively, and for literature that took into account the special psychology of the Black proletariat.

This was ignored, and the event-which had only thirty-three accredited delegates-had a majority white audience who were entertained by Russian ballet and theater groups but no Black artists.  For the next year the organization stumbled along until a shake-up in which Moore replaced Fort-Whiteman as leader.  (The latter departed for the Soviet Union, where he would teach for a while and then be imprisoned and die in a labor camp.)  (See note 4)

Moore's leadership introduced a less sectarian phase of community and union work. Even followers of Lovestone's faction (near the end of its reign) now favored dumping the NLC, although their alternative was direct party recruitment.  But the advent of the Comintern's Third Period following the Sixth Comintern Congress ended any hope for a broader political strategy, due to its campaign against "social fascism" (the theory that Socialist parties were fascist in practice) and for United Front from Below.

Solomon is especially critical of the Third period for its ideological rigidity; he believes that the political line was really about Stalin's fight to dominate the Soviet Party and the Comintern, one that would be "ultimately drenched in Soviet blood." (68) He is also distressed by evidence of party members (almost all white and largely foreign-born in the early years) speaking an alien political language, and occasionally using "internationalism" to undermine racial priorities.

Moreover, he is dismayed at what he sees as arrogant and thoughtless efforts to substitute workers for the traditional middle-class leaders, accompanied by a blindness to the resentment expressed by African Americans aspiring to assemble their own agendas.

At the Sixth Congress of the Comintern no veteran Black Communists were present.  Instead, the U.S. party was represented by a young student at the Lenin school, Harry Haywood.

Haywood was influenced by a Siberian named Charles Nasanov, who had lived in the United States and saw U.S. Blacks as an oppressed nation with the right to self-determination.  He and Haywood shared the view that historical circumstances (slavery, betrayal of Reconstruction, imperialism) had prevented Blacks from joining whites in a single nation, resulting in a distinct cultural and psychological makeup.

Garveyism was regarded as an expression of authentic national strivings that would arise again-only next time Communists should be in the leadership.  Such an approach broke free at last from class-reductionist dogmas that relegated the anti-racist struggle to second place.  Rather, the Black movement was regarded as inherently revolutionary yet also an indispensable ally of the working class.

Haywood had no support in the early stages of the debate; but gradually it became evident that the Comintern leadership favored an alteration in Party policy toward African Americans.  The amended resolution provided "an ostensible middle ground .  .  .  based on the concept of a racial and national question-with national switching places with racial in parentheses." (77)

When the official resolutions appeared in 1928 and 1930, they explained a difference in the Communist policy in the North and South of the United States.  In the North, where Blacks were a national minority, the struggle would be for social and political equality; in the South, where Blacks held a majority in certain regions (the Black Belt), the African-American nationality had right to secede and form a separate republic if it so desired.

If a revolution were successful in the larger nation, however, Communists would urge the Black population to remain.  (If Blacks did opt to secede, Euro-Americans might reside in the Black republic with minority rights.)

Nevertheless, Solomon's opinion is that the nation thesis is flawed.  While Lenin was accurate in recognizing nationalist feelings among the Black population, he thought that these would be undermined by the expansion of the capitalist economy (industrialization, migration) because the economy was inseparable from that of the larger nation.  Communist defenders of the nation thesis such as James Allen believed that capitalism, having advanced as far as it would, was imprisoning the African-American peasantry in the region with no escape except social revolution.  (See note 5)

Yet Solomon is impressed with the effects of "self- determination" on party practice.  In everyday life it meant that Communists believed in the right of oppressed people to choose their own future, and the party throwing itself wholeheartedly into anti-racist struggles.  As a concept it meant the end of the subordination of race to class and paying close attention to all issues-cultural as well as political-that affected African America.

Solomon concludes that "national oppression" is the appropriate terminology for describing what happened to Black Americans.

There were contradictions, of course, to carrying out such a policy under the delusions of the Third period.  Communists held that revolution was on the agenda, so they crudely exposed liberal compromisers as social fascists, and they marched in parades under slogans urging defense of the USSR. Yet such fervent belief enabled the same Communists, Euro-American and Black, to brave police clubs-and bullets-as they organized election rallies, anti-lynching protests, funerals for martyred comrades, and fought back against evictions and police brutality in the streets of Harlem.

Likewise, the Communists' revolutionary dual union, the National Miners Union (NMU), took strong anti-racist actions.  In Pennsylvania, the NMU convinced Black miners to join striking white miners, and in Kentucky convinced white miners to desegregate the strike kitchen.  Most famously, the Communist-led National Textile Workers Union emphasized anti-racism in its leadership of the Gastonia Strike in North Carolina.

This was followed by a heroic campaign to organize the South, an effort that Solomon believes had been hampered by the Party's adherence to an earlier theory (when Jay Lovestone was in the leadership of the party) holding that the rural South was a reserve of reaction.  The new efforts resulted in the creation of a union of sharecroppers in Alabama, as well as impressive organizing activities in the face of murderous harassment in Tennessee, Louisiana, Mississippi, and elsewhere.

The party's steadfast opposition in the 1930s to any form of racial segregation, at a time when it was tolerated by liberals and other progressives, was also an outgrowth of its assessment of the party's failure to make gains in the 1920s.  Solomon says that the party came to the conclusion that "racial segregation and the savaging of black identity represented both an institutional foundation for American capitalism and its weak point."

Thus the toleration of any form of racism only bolstered capitalism and "wounded its most potent foes." The party had to create an internal culture qualitatively different from radical or liberal movements that "extended a hand to Blacks while allowing in [their] own structures the very circumstances that engendered inequality." (128)

Hence the party promoted a view of race chauvinism as the ultimate evil. Anti-Black racism served the ruling class; Euro-Americans could only purify themselves of its stink by personally engaging in militant "struggles against Negro oppression," which would also be a step toward dismantling the legitimate distrust by Blacks of whites.  (131)

Moreover, one could not expect Blacks to unite with Communists without taking steps to counter the special oppression of Blacks.  One Jewish party leader, Israel Amter, demanded that all white Communists should be prepared to violently avenge any insult against Blacks, even at the risk of death.

The center of CP and Young Communist League life became the interracial dance, even when it antagonized the larger community.  A more theatrical approach was the occasional mass trial of a Party member accused of racist behavior; this was carried out for purposes of public education.

Solomon compellingly recapitulates the anti-racist arguments developed by Communists, who tried to go beyond older appeals to "morality, abstract justice, and `healing' through `understanding.'"  Instead, Communists emphasized changing power relationships in the interests of all the dispossessed.

Rather than appealing to sentimentality and guilt, the effort was to win over white workers on the basis of their own needs.  This was possible because working class whites could never achieve what they wanted as long as racial division persisted.  Instead of being "pitied or patronized," Blacks were to be "welcomed as indispensable allies in the battle to change the world." (146)

This meant that whites should respect Black history and culture, as well as understand that the prerequisite for unity was Black self-organization and autonomous leadership.

A Legacy of Struggle

Among the most inspiring aspects of Solomon's research is his chronicle of the efforts of party members to fight racism on every front, starting with campaigns against hunger and eviction.  He provides portraits of many female and male activists, vignettes of martyrdom, and describes heroism by Blacks and whites.  The result of such selfless work was that thousands of Blacks joined unemployment councils, and hundreds applied for party membership and signed up for the party's legal defense auxiliary, International Labor Defense.

Simultaneously, an interracial culture emerged.  In the late 1920s "Negro Weeks" were launched by Briggs to celebrate revolutionary heroes such as Toussaint L'Ouverture and Denmark Vesey.  Whites did go into Black communities and serve on Black publications, but usually in subordinate positions under the supervision of Black communists.  What was expected of these whites was a record of fighting racism and respecting the abilities of Blacks.

In the early 1930s, the American Negro Labor Congress (ANLC), which regarded anticapitalism as a basis of the anti-lynching movement, collapsed and was followed by the League of Struggle for Negro Rights (LSNR).  The new party-led organization saw the campaign against lynching as the major manifestation of national oppression within its larger agenda of demands for justice.

Nevertheless, as an organization that was openly pro-Communist, the LSNR was somewhat in competition for space with the Party itself, and the Unemployed Councils occupied available space, too. Even when the LSNR developed its own leadership with Langston Hughes as honorary president, and an official membership of ten thousand, it did not reach much beyond the party's influence.

In contrast, the party's response to the Scottsboro Case (when nine Black youths were framed on rape charges in Alabama) was a breakthrough vindicating Communists' claims to sincerity about anti-racism.  Throughout the country activists, white and Black, gave their all to the slogan "they shall not die!"  Such activity was possible because they were imbued with the belief that the fate of the defendants was linked inextricably to their own lives.

Nevertheless, Solomon is harshly critical of the CP's sectarian policy toward middle-class allies—he even endorses criticisms of the "united front from below" policy made by the expelled Lovestone group.  However, he refutes the claims that the Communists wanted the nine youths to die as martyrs, and believes that charges about the Communists' inflammatory conduct toward the courts "were overstated and deflected attention from a racist judicial system." (203)

There was constant party-led anti-racist activity throughout the early 1930s.  The candidacy of African American James Ford on the CP ticket, the running of dozens of other Black Communist candidates, and the defense of Angelo Herndon, charged with insurrection for leading a demonstration in Atlanta, were important developments.  There were also numerous strikes in which the party played a role where race issues were important—St. Louis, Chicago, San Joaquin Valley, San Francisco, Birmingham, Louisiana and so forth.

Moreover, Harlem became a centerpiece for anti-racist activity, especially when U.S.-born Black party leader James Ford took control and Briggs and Moore were eased out. The latter tended to emphasize race issues more emphatically, and were sometimes accused of blaming white workers more than the bosses; but they defended themselves by insisting that forging unity should be more of a white responsibility than a Black one.

Solomon's biggest criticism of the party in this era is its conviction that it deserved sole leadership of the Black movement due to its possession of the correct revolutionary program.  As long as the party spoke of establishing "hegemony over the Negro liberation struggle itself," it would often antagonize those who questioned or opposed it and would negate its own claims to be fighting for self-determination.  (205)

Thus Solomon ends the book with a chapter and a half devoted to the development of the Popular Front, which he regards as a positive advance away from this posture.  In his view, the dropping of Third Period sectarianism primarily meant the opportunity to work with liberals and Socialists cooperatively, as well as taking a friendlier attitude toward churches, professional organizations, and so on. Some of the tactical flexibility was shown in holding together an alliance against the invasion of Ethiopia, and in the CP's intervention into the 1935 "Harlem Riot." (272)

The culminating event for Solomon is the founding of the National Negro Congress, launched in Chicago in 1936.  It was preceded by broad discussions and impressive organizational groundwork under the leadership of John P. Davis, a non-public Communist.  The perspective was for "a multiracial organization under Black leadership, working to build a Negro-labor alliance and advance civil rights on a wide front."  At the same time, Solomon cites internal CP material to show that Davis had the view that the CP should control the NCC to "guarantee its breadth and democratic character." (303)

This raises a question, which Solomon never clearly answers, about the exact nature of the party's understanding of "self-determination" when it came to trusting an independent Black leadership.  In any event, the organization was launched with over 800 delegates from 551 organizations that claimed to represent as many as three million people.  In a striking effort to demonstrate sincerity about the new unity, the party's old Socialist rival, A. Philip Randolph, was elected president.

[The second half of this essay, reviewing the titles by William Maxwell, Bill Mullen and James Smethurst, as well as some concluding observations, will appear in ATC 86, May-June 2000.]


Notes


Alan Wald, and editor of Against the Current, was recently the subject of a political and biographical interview in The Minnesota Review #50-51 (October, 1999), "The Formation of an Activist Scholar."

ATC 84, January-February 2000

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Review: Penny Von Eschen's Race Against Empire

— Clarence Lang

Race Against Empire: Black Americans and Anticolonialism, 1937-1957 by Penny M. Von Eschen.  Cornell University Press, 1997 189 pp.+ notes and index.  $17.95 paperback.

This is a revised version of a review published in ATC 84 (January-February 2000).  Clarence Lang is a graduate student in history at the University of Illinois and a member of the St. Louis Organizing Committee of the Black Radical Congress.  For technical reasons we are unable to include the endnotes here. Write to AGAINST THE CURRENT if you'd like to receive them.


SCHOLARS IN RECENT years have begun reinterpreting the foundations and legacies of McCarthyism in the United States.  More work, however, remains to be done on the impact anticommunist fear and hysteria had on the developing Black freedom struggle of the late 1940s and early 1950s.  In Race Against Empire: Black Americans and Anticolonialism, 1937-1957, historian Penny M. Von Eschen contributes toward understanding the intersections among pan-Africanism, Afro-American politics, and the U.S. Cold War front during this period.

At the center of her narrative is the rise and fall of a broad left-liberal coalition of Black scholars, artists, journalists, politicians and labor leaders.  Many of them were aligned, with varying degrees of closeness, to the Popular Front strategy of the American Communist Party.

This coalition, she argues, cohered not only around an anti-imperialist project, but also around the domestic fight against U.S. racial apartheid.  Articulating a "politics of the African diaspora," it sought to redefine the individual and group rights of Asians, continental Africans, and African descendants in the Caribbean and the Americas-all within an international context created by World War II and its immediate aftermath.  (2)

According to the author, the guiding nucleus of this wartime Black political front in the United States was the International Committee on African Affairs, later renamed the Council on African Affairs (CAA).  At its core were Communists and "fellow travelers" like W. Alphaeus Hunton, Max Yergan, W.E.B. and Shirley Graham DuBois, and singer Paul Robeson.

At its high point, the council drew within its ranks individuals like U.S. congressman Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., New Dealer Mary McLeod Bethune, and sociologist E. Franklin Frazier.  As Von Eschen suggests, the council was in no sense a Communist front, and certainly, individuals' affiliations to the party did not determine CAA activities, or split its membership along sectarian lines.

"Until 1948," she writes ".  .  .most conflicts within the CAA concerned the question of how to work effectively on anticolonial issues-with those close to the CP often lining up on different sides." (20)

Largely a fundraising entity, the CAA provided the link between international anti-colonial networks, and African liberation groups.  Further, it lobbied the U.S. State Department and United Nations for support in African decolonization, and generated reports about the continent's economic landscape.

In documenting the CAA's activities and campaigns, Von Eschen argues that the shape of the postwar globe-far from being set in concrete-was in violent flux. Thus, pan-African activists and intellectuals had an open window of opportunity in which to successfully contest for the political, civil and economic rights of those struggling under the yoke of colonialism, and those oppressed as national minorities in the West.

However, with the rapid crystallization of U.S. political, economic and military hegemony during the Harry Truman administration, radical Black anti-colonialists found themselves increasingly repressed by the state, discarded by former allies, and in Von Eschen's view, driven to the sidelines of African-American political culture.

Cold War liberal leadership, positioning itself as the sole paradigm in Black politics, influenced the limited aspirations and strategies of the early Civil Rights Movement.  This turn of events mirrored the marginalization, across the board, of left-leaning activists who gave momentum to the Popular Front.

Garveyism to Pan-Africanism

Although the CAA's growth and development forms a centerpiece of the book, Von Eschen devotes considerable attention to the many long- and short-term conditions that influenced the form and content of a diasporan identity in the 1940s.

This included, most fundamentally, the legacy of nineteenth-century pan-Africanism established by Martin Delany, Edward Blyden and Alexander Crummell.  Against this backdrop, scholar W.E.B. DuBois played a powerful role in convening a series of Pan-African Congresses in 1900, 1919, 1921 and 1927.

It was the Marcus Garvey movement, however, that expanded pan-Africanism beyond a small elite and brought it within reach of a mass, working-class audience, though as Von Eschen convincingly argues, Garveyism itself embraced many of the ideals of Western imperialism.  In contrast, the left internationalism of the 1920s and '30s (represented by individuals like C.L.R.  James, then a Trotskyist, and George Padmore, a former Communist) helped infuse pan-Africanism with a militant anti-colonialism and anti-imperialism that later proved significant.

Like numerous scholars, Von Eschen views fascist Italy's invasion of Ethiopia in 1935 as a flashpoint in the history of pan-Africanism and African nationalism, giving rise to the formation of the International African Service Bureau, which later became the Pan-African Federation.

Formed by a core of individuals that included Padmore, James, I.T.A. Wallace-Johnson, and Jomo Kenyatta (future leader of Kenya), the federation represented another pillar of pan-Africanism in the early twentieth century: the marriage of diasporan politics and labor militancy.

This cross-fertilization not only influenced the character of the pivotal 1945 Pan-African Congress in Manchester, England (of which the Pan-African Federation was a chief architect), but also helped stimulate among politically engaged African Americans a strong emphasis on employment.

Another key ingredient in the making of this diasporan community, according to the author, was the manner in which continental Africans studied abroad in the United States.  Attending historically Black schools like Lincoln University, and boarding in local Black communities, people like Kwame Nkrumah were able to get a tangible sense of the commonalties among peoples of color.

For the author, it seems the most vital cohesive solidifying diasporan consciousness and solidarity was the "international Black press." Von Eschen argues that the Afro-American press, then at its apogee, played a critical role in informing its Black readership about strikes across West Africa and the Caribbean during the late 1930s.

More than any other institution, she reveals, Black newspapers heightened a sense of familial unity with people on the other side of the Atlantic-most of whom U.S. audiences would never meet, yet with whom they still could imagine a connection.  This was due in large part to the existence of Claude Barnett's Associated Negro Press, a syndicated news service that "made international reporting widely available to small papers," as well as regular contributions journalists like Padmore made to the Chicago Defender, Pittsburgh Courier, and similar outlets.  (8)

Beyond her discussion of institutions and social phenomena, Von Eschen offers a clear sense of the centrality of several influential figures-DuBois, James, Padmore, and so forth-in advancing the pan-Africanist project.  Throughout the text, their paths intersect frequently, and at dizzying angles.

Further, she demonstrates how her various protagonists traversed the boundaries of labor, journalism, and the pan-Africanist movement.  Nnamdi Azikiwe, who became the president of Nigeria, attended Howard University (where he met the ever-ubiquitous Padmore), and contributed articles to the Philadelphia Tribune and Baltimore Afro-American.  Upon his return to West Africa, he encouraged Nkrumah and others to similarly pursue their studies at U.S. Black institutions of higher education.

Likewise, Henry Lee Moon, while a member of the Congress of Industrial Organization's Political Action Committee, was a newspaper journalist who, in Von Eschen's view, did much to familiarize Black Americans with the struggles of African labor.

Hence, when the convulsions of the Second World War upset existing power relations in the North, West and colonized South, intellectuals and activists were in firm position to rally popular opinion around visions of a more equitable world.  Von Eschen is explicit in her contention that the "global dynamics" of World War II animated pan-Africanist discourse.  (7)

Antifascism, which ostensibly undergirded the Anglo-American-Soviet "Grand Alliance," lent legitimacy to demands for democratic freedoms, and buttressed anti-racist arguments.  Still, many U.S. pan-Africanists found this wartime antifascism lacking.  While opposing Nazism, it left imperialism untrammeled (for instance, the U.S. military presence in, and economic penetration of, Liberia and the Caribbean), and equivocated on the need to end colonialism and overturn the structures of North American racism.

From the perspective of such pan-Africanists, fascism was but an aspect of the same imperialism of which England, France and the United States all were guilty.

Defeat of Radical Internationalism

The CAA played a key role in formulating such analyses during the 1940s, much of it elaborated in written reports by Alphaeus Hunton.  This body of work, Von Eschen intimates, proceeded from a framework anchored in political economy, and understood racism as a phenomenon with historical origins in slavery and capitalism.

Surprisingly, Von Eschen asserts, such analyses gained widespread currency in popular journals like the Crisis (published by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, or NAACP) and the Journal of Negro History, and even in conservative Black newspapers like the New York Amsterdam News.

On another, significant note, writes Von Eschen, "1940s anti-colonialism represented a radical departure from the earlier gendered language of, for example, Martin R. Delany's consistent masculinist positing of Africa as the fatherland and pervasive invocations of the motherland." (79)  In its place rose a more "universalist" notion of rights, presumably inherited from the left internationalism of the 1930s.  This paradigmatic shift not only upset "gendered political categories," but also corresponded to the central leadership roles of women like Bethune and Charlotta Bass.

Promising also were the development of the Atlantic Charter and United Nations, both of which created international vehicles for redefining the meanings of freedom and rights.  In the fluid context of early postwar multilateralism, activists employed a variety of international strategies aimed consistently at raising "issues of discrimination and colonial representation," and arguing for an economic reconstruction in Africa along the lines of that proposed for war-ravaged Europe. (84)

This "race against empire," however, was derailed by a chain of events, including heightened tension between the Soviet Union, and Britain and the United States; the articulation of the Truman Doctrine and the Marshall Plan, both of which asserted U.S. guardianship of the "free world" against a perceived communist threat; conservative backlash against the wave of labor strikes in the late 1940s; and in the United States, a growing preoccupation with internal "security," and mounting repression of dissenting voices.

Public criticisms of U.S. policy abroad, once a domain of Black anti-colonial activists, became strictly off limits.  In this hostile climate, political elites were able to easily conflate civil rights issues with communism.  Liberal activists like Powell and Bethune, and mainstream civil rights groups pragmatically supplanted criticism of U.S. foreign policy with an exclusive focus on domestic discrimination.

Seeking refuge in the burgeoning anticommunist consensus, political actors like the NAACP's Walter White contended that racial discrimination undermined the United States' justified battled against the Soviet Union.  Similarly conceding the high ground to anticommunism, many CIO unions and most Black newspapers jettisoned activists with real or imagined ties to the Communist Party, and journalists like Padmore whose militant anti-imperialism previously was in vogue.

Parallel to this, coverage of African affairs declined precipitously.  In an atmosphere of hysteria conditioned by the communist revolution in China, the Korean War, and the Alger Hiss and Julius and Ethel Rosenberg cases, the CAA soon found itself burdened with lawsuits filed by the Attorney General's Subversive Activities Control Board.  Members like Hunton, DuBois and Robeson likewise found themselves imprisoned, harassed or barred from travel abroad.  By 1955, its coffers empty, the CAA folded.

Detaching Africa from Afro-Americans

Von Eschen skillfully documents how this chain of events reverberated through U.S. Black political culture.  Significantly, she writes, "one of the consequences of the later collapse of the politics of the African diaspora was the reinscription of gender in discourses on Africa and anti-colonialism and, arguably, within Pan-African politics"-paving the way for a return to the old masculinist discourses and renewed gender hierarchies. (79)

Black civil rights and anti-colonial agitation became, in popular circles, separate spheres.  Racism, once tied to the workings of political economy, was reconceptualized as a psychological, moral problem that gave birth to slavery, instead of the other way around.  Issues of racial oppression, once internationalized, were confined to the limited horizons of U.S. "race relations."

Black identity in the United States similarly was reconfigured, as even the Black popular press encouraged audiences to think of themselves as "Americans" separate and distinct from the rest of the diaspora.  Von Eschen proffers that this Afro-American "exceptionalism" went hand in hand with a reinvigorated belief in African primitiveness, a condition to be overcome through Western tutelage and development schemes.

Thus, the author contends that anti-colonialism, while it persisted, changed dramatically in its core assumptions.  She implies that just as civil rights was separated from anti-colonialism, anti-colonialism was itself severed from anti-imperialism.  The two, though related, were not the same.

The making of African Studies, though largely overlooked here, was no less important to the climate of reaction Von Eschen highlights.  An emergent superpower, the United States sought to advance its knowledge about the African continent-part of a larger schema for both securing Africa's further integration into global capitalist accumulation, and winning its peoples' allegiance against the Soviet Union.

In North America and Western Europe, the study of Africa was effectively transformed as an enterprise.  This transformation, according to Michael West and William Martin, rested on a "teaching and research endeavor focused on sub-Saharan Africa; organized by extra-disciplinary research programs; dominated by faculty and staff at Historically White Universities (HWUs); and funded by ties to private foundations and public agencies."

Such changes consolidated, on the one hand, a division of the continent between a "Black" Africa in the south and a more "Caucasian" Africa in the north; on the other, a division between Africa as a focus of study, and the rest of the diaspora.

The consequences of these shifts were numerous, and by no means limited to North America.  The work of Afro-American scholars like DuBois and Hunton was severed from the field altogether.  This undoubtedly accompanied their growing marginalization within U.S. Cold War politics.

Also negated was the role of Black colleges and universities, publications, and institutions (like the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History) as longtime reservoirs of African scholarship.  This allowed a new breed of white "experts" the space to claim paternity of the study of Africa.  Thus, the creation of Northwestern University's African Studies program in 1948, and the formation of the African Studies Association in 1957, came to be viewed as "firsts" in the development of the field.

Second, the broad "civilizational" questions raised by pan-Africanist scholars in the United States and the Caribbean were supplanted by calls for "modernizing" and "developing" a backward Africa with no presumed past glory.

Third, the making of African Studies further disengaged study of the continent from any notions of anti-colonial and anti-imperialist struggle.

Fourth, the separation of pan-Africanist themes and scholars from African Studies meant that continental students traveling to North America did so under the aegis of the State Department, white foundations, and white universities.  The interactions with African Americans, possible for Azikiwe and Nkrumah, no longer had an institutional basis.

Subverting this aspect of pan-African community-building perhaps helped reinforce the growing African/Afro-American estrangement the book discusses.  At the same time, many of the old colonial discourses about African infancy and Western stewardship made their way intact into African Studies as then conceived.  This buttressed the widespread exoticization of the continent that Von Eschen details.

Rebuilding Connections

However, the author views the 1950s as a period not merely of tragedy, but also of continuity in the struggle.  She reveals that even as the CAA fell into disrepute, new avenues opened for challenging the "liberal consensus" via the assertion of diasporic identity.

These alternative spaces included the 1955 Asian-African Conference in Bandung, which challenged the legitimacy of a bipolar, Soviet-U.S. world; the Nation of Islam, which advanced its own "anti-American critique of the Cold War" (p. 174); and the "goodwill ambassador" tours of Afro-American jazz musicians, which subtly promoted pan-African solidarities despite State Department sponsorship.

For Von Eschen, it also seems clear that the independence of Ghana in 1957 (and Nkrumah's All African People's Conference in 1958) ushered in a new era of African nationalism and diasporic solidarity, principally by giving pan-Africanism the backing of state power.

By the mid-1960s, the internationalization of Afro-American civil rights, and an explicit critique of U.S. foreign relations, once again were in full bloom-thanks in part to the developing anti-imperialism of Malik El Hajj Shabazz (Malcolm X), the anti-Vietnam War stance of the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), and the revolutionary internationalism of organizations like the Black Panther Party.

By 1967 Martin Luther King, Jr. publicly declared his opposition to the war in Vietnam.  In doing so, like activists in SNCC, he violated the taboo against civil rights leaders criticizing U.S. diplomacy.

A Timely Contribution

In its scope, Von Eschen's book complements works like Gerald Horne's Black and Red: W.E.B. DuBois and the Afro-American Response to the Cold War, 1944-1963, and Bernard Makhosezwe Magubane's The Ties That Bind: African-American Consciousness of Africa.  However, one might have expected from her book more attention to the specific political and economic struggles against racial apartheid in the United States.

Similarly, her discussion of pan-Africanism's shifting, gendered subtext seems far too understated.  Some scholars might rightly criticize Von Eschen for glossing over serious, deep-rooted antagonisms among left activists during this historical period, and failing to ground the book more in a discussion of the Popular Front period.

Others may disagree about whether the potential truly existed for a genuine transformation of global power relations, even the immediate post-World War II moment.  Yet Von Eschen convincing demonstrates that history is rarely the story of the inevitable: The course of historical events may often appear linear and preordained to those reviewing them in the here and now, but arguing from this perspective results in reading the present backward into the past.

On the whole, Von Eschen paints a riveting portrait of a time when radical anti-colonialism and domestic Black civil rights marched arm in arm, before weathering the challenges of the Truman and Eisenhower years.  In the process, she helps illuminate the origins of the long-running "primacy debate" among historians of the Black slave experience.  The debate continues as to which preceded which: Racism or slavery?  Color prejudice or capitalism?

Race Against Empire is important finally for the immediacy of its subject matter.  As the twenty-first century begins, we now may be witnessing another moment of disjuncture, one that has created renewed possibilities for a radical "politics of the diaspora."

For instance, a number of African Americans, in criticizing U.S. economic sanctions against Cuba, have "rediscovered" a diasporan connection to its people, a vast majority of whom are of African descent.  Several months ago, Randall Robinson, head of the Washington, D.C. lobbying group TransAfrica, led a delegation to Cuba as part of a public appeal to lift the blockade.

Just as striking as its campaign was the fact that this group had a broad political and ideological composition characteristic of 1940s-era anti-colonialism.  Among those accompanying Robinson were actor Danny Glover, a vocal human rights activist; Johnnetta B. Cole, former president of historically Black Spelman College; and Bill Fletcher, Jr., education director for the AFL-CIO, and national organizer for the Black Radical Congress.

The goal of this mission dovetails with ongoing calls to dissolve the African debt, which a number of observers (including the late Julius Nyerere) contend has been paid several times over. Along these lines, vocal opposition to U.S. trade policy in Africa has put a new generation of Black activists in conflict not only with the Clinton Administration, but also with the Black professionals and managerial elites operating within his "New Democrat" alliance.

Moreover, now that the Cold War is over and "Area Studies" are becoming superfluous to the State Department and vulnerable to university budget cuts, many scholars are exploring how to bring African Studies to new constituencies.  Or rather, they are examining how to return the study of Africa to institutions, actors, and constituencies in Black community life-going "back to the future," as historian Paul Tiyambe Zeleza terms it.

A reading of Von Eschen's book reveals it is difficult to appreciate today's pregnant historical moment without comprehending its origins in the contested political terrain of the 1940s and '50s.


Notes on African Studies

On the highly contested domain of "African Studies" and its relation to the political struggles documented in Race Against Empire, readers may wish to consult the following sources.
Michael O. West and William G. Martin, "A Future with a Past: Resurrecting the Study of Africa in the Post-Africanist Era," Africa Today, Vol. 44, No. 3 (1997): 309

William Martin and Michael West, "The Decline of the Africanists' Africa and the Rise of New Africas," Issue, Vol. 23, No. 1 (1995): 24-26

William G. Martin, "Constructive Engagement II, or Catching the Fourth Wave: Who and Where are the `Constituents' for Africa?" The Black Scholar, Vol. 29, No. 1 (Spring 1999): 21-30

Gerald Horne, "Looking Forward/Looking Backward: The Black Constituency for Africa Past & Present," The Black Scholar, Vol. 29, No. 1 (Spring 1999): 30-34

Lisa Brock, "Questioning the Diaspora: Hegemony, Black Intellectuals and Doing International History from Below," Issue, Vol. 24, No. 2 (1996): 9-11

Melina Pappademos, "Romancing the Stone: Academe's Illusive Template for African Diaspora Studies," Issue, Vol. 24, No. 2 (1996): 38-39

Stanley J. Heginbotham, "Rethinking International Scholarship: The Challenge of Transition from the Cold War Era," Items (Social Science Research Council), Vol. 48, Nos. 2-3 (June-September 1994): 33-40

Paul Tiyambe Zeleza, "The Perpetual Solitudes and Crises of African Studies in the United States," Africa Today, Vol. 44, No. 2 (1997): 193-210

Zeleza, Manufacturing African Studies and Crises (CODESRIA, 1997); Herchelle Sullivan Challenor, "No Longer at Ease: Confrontation at the 12th Annual African Studies Association Meeting at Montreal," Africa Today, Vol. 16, Nos. 5-6 (October/November/December 1969): 4-7

Idrian N. Resnick, "The Future of African Studies After Montreal," Africa Report, December 1969: 22-24

Audrey C. Smock, "A Critical Look at American Africanists," Africa Report, December 1970: 23-24; Guy Mhone, "The Case Against Africanists," Issue: A Quarterly Journal of Africanist Opinion, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Summer 1972): 8-13

John Henrik Clarke, "The African Heritage Studies Association (AHSA): Some Notes on the Conflict with the African Studies Association (ASA) and the Fight to Reclaim African History," Issue, Vol. 6, Nos. 2-3 (Summer/Fall 1976): 5-11

Victor C. Uchendu, "Africa and the Africanist: The Challenge of a Terminal Colonial Order," Issue, Vol. 7, No. 1 (Spring 1977): 5-11


Clarence Lang is a Ph.D. candidate in history at hte university of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and a member of the St. Louis Organizing Committee of the Black Radical Congress.

ATC 84, January-February 2000

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