SOCIALISM

and
AFFLUENCE

by Harry Hanson

AS TRADITIONALLY,

andI thinkcorrectly understood, the purpose of socialism may be defined

as follows:
That the government, democratically responsible
to the electorate, should assume ownership of the
commanding heights of the economy and, in
association with subsidiary agencies of a democratic
character, take effective control of the economy as
a whole; that it should use the power thus obtained
(a) to ensure a rapid development of total productivity in accordance with certain centrally-decided
priorities, (b) to redistribute both income and
leisure in favour of the under-privileged and
(c) to place greater emphasis than is possible in a
society where the main criterion of economic
decision is private profit on the provision of
communal facilities designed to raise the general
level of material and cultural well-being.

The adaptation of these principles to midtwentieth century conditions can be either of two
kinds: (1) adaptation to the needs of our time;
(2) adaptation to the views, existing or predicted,
of the electorate. These two kinds of adaptation
do not necessarily coincide. In fact, their coincidence is now becoming not more but less close.
Up to quite recently there was at least no glaring
contradiction between vigorous campaigning for
Socialism, as thus defined, and the winning of
electoral victories. Today, as a result of the very

10

real achievements of welfare capitalism, that

contradiction is obvious. Ultimately, people judge
political policies and programmes on the basis of
experience, and to an ever-increasing extent the
significant and politically-decisive experience is of
the prosperous fifties, not of the hungry thirties.
Where comparisons are consciously made, they
are between the free flow of consumer goods
characteristic of the recent period of Tory rule and
the restrictionism characteristic of the immediate post-war years when Labour was in office.
Both, of course, were periods of almost-full
employment, but the first was one of full employment plus rationing, the second one of full
employment plus hire-purchase.
This is not to suggest that satisfaction with the
record of welfare capitalism is almost universal.
Clearly, there are many groups of people, such
as old age pensioners and families on the waiting
list for municipal housing, who have the most
obvious reasons for dissatisfaction. The so-called
consumer revolution, moreover, cannot develop
its full ideological impact in areas where unemployment is well above the national average. Marginal
dissatisfactions, however, are a very poor bag of
electoral assets.

But if Labour cannot mark these up on the

credit side, nor can it count on the much more
serious contrast between private opulence and
public squalor. This offends some of the people
(e.g. the radical intellectuals) all of the time, and
all of the people (e.g. when they are being
educated, hospitalised or mechanically transported) some of the time. But the frustrated plans
of educationists, public health experts, town
planners and road builders can all too easily be
dismissed as utopian. The flood of consumer
durables is real, and the consumer revolution, as
the authors of Out of Apathy have emphasised,
is tending to produce an atomised society, peopled
by competitively-acquisitive individuals who have
ceased to feel a sense of responsibility for
communally-provided services. Hence, although
they grumble freely about deficiencies of all
kinds, they no longer think in terms of collective
action to effect or demand improvements, particularly if these would involve higher taxation.
But what of equality? The question almost
answers itself. You can choose equality, as
Socialists understand it, or you can choose the
acquisitive society. You cannot choose both.
This is not to say that there is no real demand for
equality in the sense of the career open to
talents, nor resentment at obstacles to personal
advancement built into our social system. But
such obstacles are not all part of the essential
nature of capitalism. Capitalist institutions, in
fact, might benefit considerably if the public
schools were abolished, the eleven plus discarded, secondary education made comprehensive, and the narrow bottleneck of university
entrance widened. We should be more like
Americathat is alli.e. less backward by
twentieth-century capitalist standards.
It is far otherwise with the conception of social
equality. Of all ideas, this can become the most
potent of anti-capitalist forces, once it has gripped
the masses; for from it flows nearly everything
else that is distinctively socialistic: the abolition
of private ownership, the extinction of unearned
income, and the extension of freely-available
communal facilities. Yet it is precisely this idea
that today has almost no electoral appeal.
Equality has fared perhaps worse than any other
socialist principle in the prevalent Damn you,
Jack climate of opinion. The current attitude
towards the rich and comfortable is one that
combines envy with admiration. And the rich
themselves, confident that the levelling sentiments of earlier years have now evaporated, can
again safely flaunt their wealth. This new selfconfidence among the rich is the best evidence
of the decline of egalitarian aspirations.

Every socialist knows, to his cost, that these

tendencies are growing stronger rather than
weaker. Indeed, in a society which has both
affluence and the Bomb, it is surprising that
they are not still more marked. For, while the
nuclear threat stimulates the spirit of carpe diem,
the consumer revolution provides us with an
unprecedented number of aids to more-or-less
blissful oblivion.
To talk of adjusting socialism to this climate
of opinion is plainly nonsensical. It cannot be
brought into line with an acquisitive, class-dominated, inegalitarian, Bomb-threatened society.
Hence the force behind the accusation that
Gaitskell, Jay and Crosland are in point of fact
abandoning socialism. Yet few of their left
critics seem sufficiently aware of the dilemma that
these political leaders face. They are concerned,
as professional politicians are bound to be, with
the winning of office. To succeed, at least in the
short run, they must simultaneously attract a
mass of prosperity-corrupted electors by giving
Labour a new and essentially un-socialist face,
and retain the support of the many who still call
themselves socialists. This is a difficult assignment.
From their point of view, it is the old-fashioned
type of socialist that currently constitutes the
main problem. Some kind of satisfaction has to
be given to the rank-and-file electioneer, who is
not unnaturally suspicious of the new look,
and also to the active trade unionist, who may
have the vaguest ideas about what socialism is,
but associates a vigorous socialist language with
industrial militancy. The trouble is, obviously,
that the more attractive the new face becomes to
militants and traditionalists, the less attractive it
seems to the rest of the electorate.

Political Arithmetic
The revisionists calculate, no doubt, that Old
Guard socialism is a waning force, and that their
victory is therefore guaranteed by the passage of
time. The premise of this calculation is almost
certainly correct; but the conclusion does not
necessarily follow. For side by side with the Old
Leftand, at the present moment, objectively
reinforcing itis a New Left, growing in strength.
Young, vigorous and intelligent, its members
have already completed their initial and basic
task of re-stating socialism in mid-twentiethcentury terms, and are now beginning to organise
themselves. For them, the Gaitskellian and
Croslandian political arithmetic is irrelevant.
The more realistic are thinking far beyond the
next election. It would be wrong to say that they

11

do not care whether Labour wins in 1964; but

they do not regard this as of decisive importance.
The less realistic are emotionally incapable of
accepting the well-authenticated conclusions of
the psephologists, and continue to persuade
themselves that a vigorously-promoted left
policy could not fail to elicit an equally vigorous
electoral support.
Even if this basic contradiction were solved
there remains the difficulty of persuading a
sceptical, television-attuned electorate, that a party
led by a combination of selfish and irresponsible trade unionists and theorising intellectuals (mutually suspicious) could run the Opportunity State and Welfare Capitalism more
effectively than those already at the wheel. Tory
freedom worksdont let Labour ruin it was
a brilliantly-conceived and exceptionally effective
slogan of which we are likely to hear more.
It is for these reasons that the Labour Party
is now displaying signs of decay. How can that
decay be arrested? It is no answer at all to say
that everything would be all right if the leadership
adopted leftist policies and became inspired
with a vigorous, crusading spirit. To capture the
commanding heights of the economy, to impose
sensible and humane economic and social
priorities, to refurbish and use the machinery of
economic planning, to replace state capitalist
industries with genuinely socialised ones, to slash
unearned and undeserved rewards, to cut the
arms bill and abandon the deterrentall are
essential socialist measures. But they are not
going to cut much electoral ice, so long as Tory
freedom works.
Nor is it an answer to say that a new leadership
could do the trick; for the assumption that such
a leadership could simultaneously unite the Party
and give it a more attractive image is unrealistic, depending as it does on the false belief
that the Gaitskells, Jays and Croslands represent
no-one but themselves, and retain their power
simply by controlling and manipulating the Party
machine. It is true, of course, that they are skilled
in the arts of political manipulation. But fundamentally, they derive their strength from the fact
that they represent a body of opinion. Such
alternative leadership as one can see is no more
firmly rooted in inner-party and much less firmly
rooted in extra-party opinion. That certain
leftist leaders are popular with the constituency
parties means little, for the constituencies are
well out on the left of the main body. Nor is it
very significant that Frank Cousins has won
the T and GWU for his policies. The power and
prestige of the General Secretary of the Union
ensure that, in the long run, his views prevail.
The fact is that the proposed new leadership

12

would divide the Labour Party as thoroughly

as the old one does.
Perhaps this would not matter if the new image
were electorally more attractive than the old.
But there is no reason to suppose that it would
be. If leftism were a current electoral asset,
even the sedate Mr. Gaitskell would be carefully
studying the oratorical techniques of Harry Pollitt
and Gerry Healey. By using such techniques, the
revisionists might be able to win over, at least
temporarily, an assortment of nuclear disarmers,
ex-communists, trade union militants, and the
like; but electorally it would be a non-starter.
The dilemma of the left, therefore, is in some
ways more serious than that of the right. The
rightist, baulked of the prospect of political power,
can easily take refuge in cynicism or retire to
private life. After all, he has no very fundamental
quarrel with society as it is. The leftist, on the
other hand, is more likely to be emotionally
involved in the causes that he has espoused. For
him, it is essential to communicate to others
something of his vision of a New Social Order.
It is for this reason that the left is even more
tempted than the right to part company with
realityto over-estimate the power of the word,
to mistake the marginal discontents of a minority
for the first stirrings of the great mass, to see
revolution, if not just around the corner, at least
a measurable distance ahead on the road. As far
as the New Left is concerned, this dangerous
tendency has been, so far, held in check. The
authors of Out of Apathy are certainly no facile
optimists. But all too often their aspirations get
in the way of their analysis. Fairy Wish-Fulfilment
is never very far away, and lurking somewhere
around is the Janus-faced daemon of Historical
Necessity.

Day of Judgment?
Rational hope has become so difficult to
sustain that we are strongly tempted to substitute
the irrational variety. In some cases, the result is
a complete break with reality, as in current
Trotskyism. In others, the disease is not so
advanced, but nevertheless its symptoms are
ominously present. Already, among the members
of the New Left, there is a tendency to accept
albeit in a very much modified formone of the
essential elements of Trotskyist (and also orthodox
Communist) thought: the conception of a Day of
Judgment. This idea is attractive because it offers
a semi-automatic, if long-term, solution to
political frustration. It guarantees the defeat of
the right, ensures that the popular support
necessary for making the transition to socialism
will eventually be forthcoming, and has the great

advantage of making the question of whether

Labour will win the election of 1964 or 1969 or
1974 an almost irrelevant one.
At this point in my argument caution is needed.
It is easy to dismiss what seems an apocalyptic
view, and thus absolve oneself from the inconvenience of inquiring whether the Day of Judgment is really at hand. Although I take it for
granted that the Proletarian Revolution, as
conceived by the Trotskyists, is a work of the
imagination, that does not rule out a Day of
Judgment of another kind. British capitalism
appears to have escaped from the classical
Marxist contradictionsbut may it not have
acquired another set?
Most members of the New Left appear to
think so; but so far they have been pretty vague
about the nature of these contradictions. Neither
in Out of Apathy nor in New Left Review can we
find anything to compare with that precision
which gave classical Marxism its strength. The
tendency has been to argue that people cannot
possibly continue to remain satisfied with a
society as bad as ours once they have been
convinced that they can create a better one;
socialism will then re-appear on the historical
agenda.
The latest recruit to leftism, R. H. S.
Crossman, in his recent Fabian pamphlet, has
attempted to popularise these new contradictions. He argues, in New Left manner, supported
by references to Galbraith, that in a capitalist
society the maintenance of public services must
always take second place to the satisfaction of
consumer needs and that the price which the
modern, managed capitalism pays for avoiding
the old-fashioned crisis of mass unemployment
is the continuous sacrifice of public service,
community welfare and national security to
private profit. In what sense is this a contradiction? Certainly not in the Marxian sense, for
one can hardly conceive that a capitalism which
deliberately stimulates mass consumption to keep
itself alive will be brought to its doom by the
revolt of the poor and oppressed. The crisis, in
Mr. Crossmans view, will be the product of
factors external to capitalism as well as those
internal to it. For the essential nature of the
system ensures its defeat in peaceful competition with the communist countries. Only
democratic socialism, involving the dominance of
the public sector in our economy, can stand up
to the challenge of totalitarian socialism.

What is wrong with the revisionists is that they

misjudge altogether the times in which we are living
and, in particular, the stability and strength of the
Affluent Societies in which we have lived for under
a decade.

The Day, therefore, is not very far ahead. There

will be a creeping crisis in the 1960s and 1970s.

For this, the revisionist policy of coming to
terms with the Affluent Society is no preparation,
even if it does succeed in the winning of an
election. On the contrary, the leadership of the
Labour Party
should hold itself in reserve . . . warning the
electorate of the troubles that lie ahead and
explaining why they can only be tackled by ensuring
that public enterprise dominates the whole economy
and creates the climate in which private enterprise
works.

If the analysis on which these harsh predictions are based is well-founded, it is difficult
to see how even Gaitskell and Crosland can
resist the cogency of Crossmans argument. But
is the argument a valid one? Judgment Day
horses ought always to be examined critically.
When the revolution against mid-nineteenth
century capitalism failed to materialise, as Marx
and Engels predicted, the explanation offered
was that a phase of temporary industrial monopoly enabled the capitalists to bribe and
bourgeoisify the working class. When this
ended, there would be socialism again in
England. It did, and there wasbut only of a
decidedly reformist kind. The successors to
Marx and Engels then argued that the revolution
had been postponed by another kind of monopoly
based on profits from colonial exploitation. The
crisis would now come when the colonies revolted
or the imperialist powers reduced the world to
a shambles through their competitive feuds. The
slaves did revolt, and the world was reduced to
shamblestwice. But the socialism which emerged
took place where the countries were least ripe
for it. Even the Great Depression led no further
than The New Deal. In England it temporarily
crushed the Labour Party and in Germany it
was succeeded by national Socialism. Since the
war British capitalism, shorn of most of its
colonial tribute and deprived of all its more
important overseas possessions, has succeeded in
employing, feeding, housing, doctoring, educating
and entertaining its workers better than ever
beforeeven if not nearly well enough by the
standards that we now set.

Mr. Crossmans Predictions

What evidence is there that Crossman is any
better at predicting Judgment Day than the
distinguished but unreliable prophets of old?
None whatever that he himself has provided. Of
course, the fact that several prophesies of Judgment have turned out to be false alarms does not
mean that this one cannot possibly be genuine.

13

After all, civilisations have decayed, revolutions

have occurred: never more so than during the
twentieth century. That British democracy has an
unusually high assimilative capacity is undoubted.
But there are limits. As the authors of Out of
Apathy emphasise, it would be very strange if
Britain and a few other countries of advanced
disorderly and menacing forces of political change
that are sweeping the mid-century world.
However, this type of broad speculation is no
substitute for serious analysis. One must carefully
examine the forces that are supposed to be
propelling us towards the crisis.
Is British capitalism permanently stuck in the
familiar inflationary-deflationary, upturn-downturn impasse? Possibly it is; but a few years are
hardly enough to provide the basis for confident
judgment. It has looked that way before, but
then proceeded to confound those who came to
cheer at its funeral. There is certainly much to
suggest that the economy may be incapable of
recovering its dynamism without undergoing basic
structural changes. But this would seem to be
more true of the specifically British form of
capitalism than of capitalism in general. Are we
not always pointing to the contrast between the
high-investment dynamism of Western German
(and even French and Italian) capitalism and the
low-investment stagnation of our own?
Is it true that British capitalism, being based
upon the pursuit of profit, is inherently incapable
of creating or radically improving our transport
system, educational and medical services, housing
and the state of our cities? No-one can reasonably
doubt that these things could be done very much
faster and better in a planned, socialist economy.
But capitalist European countries have at least
vigorously tackled some of these problems. Is it
totally impossible for British capitalism successfully to imitate them? The stock reply is that
there are narrow limits to fiscal socialism,
owing to the resistance of big business and the
effect of high taxation on capitalist incentives.
But where are the limits? To pay for wars and
war preparations, taxation has already been
pushed up to levels that would have caused a
sit-down strike among the capitalists of former
days. Could not the proceeds even of existing
taxes, diverted to constructive purposes, effect a
marked improvement in Britains basic equipment? And what evidence is there that any further
increase would be the last straw? The reason why
rapid improvements are not being made may be
that capitalism is involved in certain inescapable
contradictions; but we should at least inquire
whether some less fundamental explanation
may not be found, e.g. that British capitalism
(a) has neglected, through sheer inertia and short-

14

sightedness, to develop productivity fast enough,

and (b) has not been pressured with sufficient
vigour by the working class movement.
It is at this point that our doubts about a quasirevolutionary socialist perspective are stilled by
the entry of the Monstrous Crow. All this may
be true, it is said, but however fast British
capitalism expands it will be outpaced by the
Soviet Union and the other totalitarian countries
with planned, socialist economies. Unless we
ourselves go socialist, we shall be beaten in
peaceful competition. For Crossman, this is
evidently the conclusive argument. But is it so
conclusive?
What is the nature of the beating we are going
to take? Does Mr. Crossman mean that the Soviet
Union, by entering the competitive struggle for
foreign markets, is going to deprive us of our
outlets and supplies? Or is his emphasis on the
demonstration effect, whereby the Russians,
through well-publicised successes of socialist construction, will convince the people of this country
that a planned economy with a large public sector
is the only way of keeping up with the Ivanovs?
Or is it that Communism will win the battle for
the underdeveloped and developing countries,
thereby isolating the comparatively small area
of the world remaining to capitalism, preparatory
to destroying it? Or is there to be some combination of all three?

Socialism By Competition?
On the issue of straight economic competition
it would be unwise to be dogmatic, for no-one
knows precisely what the intentions of the Soviet
Unionstill less those of Chinaare in this field.
But even if our worst fears materialised, it is
possible that our position as a trading nation
would remain basically unchanged. Is market
competition from a socialist country any different
than from a capitalist one? Perhapsif that
country is intent on forming a closed trading bloc.
If, however, we are faced with ordinary competition for the economic favours of a group of
uncommitted countries, the situation may be
much less dangerous. Of course, a socialist
country has the advantage that it can disregard,
if need be, normal commercial considerations.
But capitalist governments are not incapable of
subsidising exports and of granting credits on
easy terms, if they see advantage in doing so.
When the full blast of Russian competition is
turned on, it will certainly seriously reduce our
share in the world market. But that in itself does
not matter. Our share has been declining ever
since the beginning of the century. If the world
economy continues to expand, then the absolute

magnitude of our foreign trade can continue to

increase. The effect of Russian trading competition, therefore, cannot be clearly foreseen.
As for the demonstration effect, this indeed
may become serious by the 1970s. But even then,
what will be demonstrated is a whole way of life,
not necessarily acceptable simply because it
capitalism could insulate themselves from the
embodies a higher standard of living. At present
the Americans have standards which, on the
average, are twice as high as ours, but resistances
to the adoption of the American way of life
which is less alien to us than the Soviet way
are still considerable.
It is curious and typical that those who
emphasise the demonstration effect tend to assume
that capitalism will be quite unable to respond
to the challenge of the Soviet Union in any
constructive way. This is a product of the belief
that it is enmeshed in its own internal contradictions. Whatever the bourgeoisie does, it is
bound to be wrong; it cannot escape its inevitable
fate. Strange how this dogmatic belief survives!
Capitalists are presented as, on the one hand,
infernally clever and cunning; on the other, as
virtually helpless. Is it not possible that they will
find new ways of responding to the Soviet
challenge, that they will be stimulated by it to
put their untidy house in order? Must they
become mere asphalt under the Soviet steamroller? And are there not indications that, by a
process of parallel if uneven development,
capitalist and Communist societies, in the long
run, will begin to look very much alike?
It is the third form of competition that looks
most serious. Russia and her allies, assisted by
western foreign policies, have already gone
far towards isolating the countries of advanced
capitalism. But how much further they will go
is difficult to predict. Russias leaders, no longer
believing that only the capitalist world would
perish in a nuclear holocaust, have become
cautious. They are also influenced, no doubt, by
the growing maturity of Soviet society, and by
the slackening of its internal tensions as easy
living becomes more widespread. China, of
course, is still in her heroic phase, and the
Americans appear determined to ensure that she
shall remain there. One can only hope that the
Chinese reach calmer waters before they have
done irreparable damage. If this comes to pass,
there is some chance of a modus vivendi between
the capitalist sector of the world and the communist. Possibly most of the underdeveloped
countries, having ceased to hope that western
aid will ever be given, on an adequate scale, to
other than corrupt and reactionary governments,
will choose the communist path. It certainly looks

the safer bet. This will increase the difficulties of

the remaining capitalist powers. But the door to
mutually beneficial economic relations between
the two sectors has not yet been closed, and the
Russians at least seem still anxious to keep it
open. What only a few people on this side of the
fence seem as yet to realise is that the menacing
behaviour of the Communists is very largely a
product of western policy. I am not attempting
to disprove the Judgement Day perspectives,
but simply indicating that it is not only the
possible one. Nor am I trying to spread complacency. Believing that the odds are pretty heavy
that we shall all be killed, either swiftly and
mercifully by thermo-nuclear blast or slowly and
excruciatingly by atomic radiation, I feel anything
but complacent. Nor, except by way of contrast
with this apocalyptic vision, do I feel any
marked enthusiasm for a lengthy epoch of
capitalist affluence. What I am suggesting is
that, if the Labour Party adopted the policies
of which Mr. Crossman, the New Left and I
approve, there is no guarantee that by the 1970s
or 1980s a sadder but wiser electorate will be
saying You were right after all. It is therefore
not surprising that, despite the menacing appearance of the shape of things to come, Mr. Gaitskell
and Mr. Crosland should continue to do their
political arithmetic, calculating that if they can
get the old men off their backs and stop the newleftist dogs from yapping round their legs,
victory and the fruits of office will be theirs by
1964 or 1969.

Cassandra In The Wilderness?

The calculation is probably false, but at least
it seems to them a better bet than waiting,
Cassandra-like, for the contradictions of capitalism to reach their bursting point. A major
political party, working within the framework of
parliamentary democracy, cannot in these days
prosper by predicting and preparing for disaster.
It must present itself as an alternative government,
with reasonably short-term expectations of coming
into office. Only if it is reasonably certain that
some distance ahead looms a crisis from which
it alone can extricate the country will it consent
to go out, temporarily, into the wilderness. Such
a crisis, may indeed, be looming now, but neither
its causes nor its lineaments are sufficiently sharp
to compel the leaders of the Party to concentrate
their attention on it.
To be realistic politicians, we must make
allowance for several different sets of possibilities.
We must be prepared, for instance, for the failure
of the expected crisis to materialise, and consider
the implications of this for socialism. In such

15

circumstances, we can expect a further strengthening of the relationship between government and
big business, and further advances towards a
managed and managerial economy. We shall
simultaneously become more socialised, in
Lenins sense of the word, and more affluent, but
no less class-divided. We may, indeed, become
considerably more class-divided, as successive
injections of the merit vaccine will give class
a new and more rational justification. Society
will be objectively ripe for socialism but will
lack the subjective prerequisites for the transition. The trade union movement will concentrate
more and more upon ensuring that a fair share
of an increasing national income shall accrue to
its members. The Labour Party will then either
make way for or transform itself into a new type
of party, providing a periodical change from but
no real alternative to Conservatism.
What of socialism in this context? I do not
believe that a distinctively socialist movement
will disappear, but I do think that it will be
reduced, at least for the time being, to a comparatively small group of determined left-wingers.
I also believe that this group, although without
any immediate hope of achieving political power,
will have an immensely important role to play.
Intent on keeping the socialist idea alive, it will
unceasingly expose the negative features of the
new society, use every advantage to popularise its
aims, and perhaps secure, by some process of encroaching control, the partial realisation of some
of them. It will watch, in a positively Fabian
manner, for the objective possibilities of making
new advances, constantly bring all forms of
pressure to bear on the two main parties, and
if possiblemaintain a small but vigorous and
disciplined group of Members in the House. Its
nucleus, obviously, will be the present left in
the Labour Party, which would probably be well
advised, if it feels that the above perspective is
the likely one, to seize the first suitable opportunity to make a clean break and start a separate
and distinct political organisation.
What I should not relish, in these circumstances,
would be the virtual elimination of a normal
parliamentary opposition, which is what would
happen if the exacerbation of factional struggle
within the Labour Party caused its complete
disintegration. An effectively-operating two-party
system is one of the most valuable features of an
advanced capitalist (or socialist) society. The
difference may be that between Tweedledum and
Tweedledee, but the Government is nevertheless
compelled to defend and justify its policies, everconscious that its tenure of office is a conditional
one. I would rather, of course, have a socialist
opposition; but if this is impossible, any sort of

16

progressive opposition which is capable of

taking over the government will do. In such an
opposition, our right-wing friends in the Labour
Party could play a useful if unspectacular role.
I myself would prefer to remain with the left.
If however, the prospect is that in the near
future the capitalist world is going to undergo
a deep crisis, socialists may find it desirable to
adopt a different strategy. In such circumstances,
one need not worry about the normal working
of the two-party system. The important thing
will then be to get the socialist movement in the
best possible shape to cope with the crisis when
it comes. Boldness and resolution should therefore be the watchwords of the left. It must
make a bid to capture power in the Labour
movement, irrespective of whether, in doing so,
it splits the Party and destroys the possibility of
any immediate appeal to a majority of the
electorate. I do not know whether this is the
course of action that Mr. Crossman is now
advocating, but I am sure that, if he maintains
his present position, he will be driven to advocate
it sooner or later.
I must admit that the alternative here presented
is a schematic one. It implies the existence of a
coherent left capable of making up its collective
mind about perspectives and adjusting its strategy
accordingly. But the left is in fact an amorphous
and disorderly assortment of groups. One can
hardly conceive of the taking of any decision by
this miscellaneous collection, even if the data on
which it ought to be based were a good deal
clearer than they are. The Labour Party, I believe,
will split, but how and with what result will not
be determined by anyones precise and far-seeing
political decision.
What I am fundamentally interested in is the
formation of a more coherent socialist group,
which can either come to the rescue of Britain
during a crisis or keep alive the cause of socialism
during a long period of affluent apathy. The
left, I believe, must keep both tasks in mind.
It may be, of course, that Labour will not split,
but will continue to lurch along an erratic course,
holding together the rival factions by means of a
series of semi-intelligible verbal compromises.
But this, surely, is a situation which no-one can
want. Moreover, it does not seem to me likely.
Admittedly, the Party has tended to behave like
this in the past. But the tensions were then less
serious, and the Party showed a remarkable
capacity to recover from its electoral defeats.
Nothing like the losing of three successive
elections, by steadily increasing margins, has
happened before. This, like affluence itself, is
a new situation. Socialists have only just begun
to wake up to what it means.