Reports on trade union matters

The series of reports on trade union issues, which began at the general meeting last September, has continued with the presentation of three separate chapters.

The work begins by observing a pattern: after the Revolution of 1789, the bourgeoisie rose to power. In the following historical periods, workers’ economic associations faced many changes. Sometimes the bourgeois state openly rejected them. Later, it gave them legal status. Eventually, the state absorbed and neutralised unions, taking away their independence to stop them from being led by the revolutionary party.

Within the workers’ organisations, revisionist and reformist tendencies, opposed by revolutionary Marxism, developed progressively until, on the eve of the First World War, they became dominant in all the parties of the Second International.

With the war, the situation came to a head; the social-democratic parties joined the Union Sacrée, and it was only thanks to them that the bourgeoisie succeeded in driving the proletarians of various countries to slaughter one another on the battlefields. The cycle concluded with the complete subjugation of the trade union federations to the cause of their respective national bourgeoisies. 

With the exception of Soviet Russia, this subjugation persisted and even strengthened after the return to peace, and the trade unions were entrusted with a purely reformist role. 

This subjugation looks different in each country. Karl Radek observed that ‘the various flags covered the same goods everywhere’. Without revolutionary communist leadership, trade unions limit themselves to reformist actions within capitalism.

This does not, however, mean that communists should leave the trade unions; on the contrary, it reinforces their aim of taking the lead within them, giving them direction and purpose that goes beyond immediate demands and leads to a head-on revolutionary confrontation.

‘The trade union, even when corrupt, is still a workers’ centre. Withdrawing from the social-democratic trade union corresponds to the view of certain trade unionists who would like to establish organs of revolutionary struggle of a trade-unionist rather than a political nature.’ 

“The left wing of the Italian Communist Party has always opposed the tactic of demanding withdrawal from reformist trade unions. We have always fought with the utmost vigour against tendencies towards secession from the reformist trade union confederation by independent trade unions, supporters of the Communist Party.”

It is on these theoretical foundations, specific to the Italian Communist Party, the Comintern and the Profintern, that we have based our reports.

This study, which examines the various trade union issues that arose in Italy between the two world wars, simultaneously demonstrates that these were not purely Italian issues, but recurring ones in every bourgeois capitalist state. In practice, the problems were and remained the same.

CGdL AND FASCISM AGAINST WORKERS’ GAINS

On 9 October 1921, the Executive Committee of the CGdL proposed suspending all industrial action against wage cuts and establishing a Commission of Inquiry comprising representatives of the State, employers and workers to examine the industrial situation and, on that basis, determine whether wages should be adjusted. Such an adjustment could even have been a reduction if the Commission of Inquiry had deemed it essential for the survival of the industry.

Naturally, class collaboration could only favour the bourgeoisie and capitalism, and consequently, the path of trade union collaboration could only converge with that of fascism.

It will be interesting to examine in greater depth the direct and indirect contacts between the Confederazione del Lavoro and fascism. Indeed, between the confederal bigwigs and the fascists, there had been a dialogue at a distance—at times extremely cautious; at others more overt, marked by overtures and very carefully calculated tactical moves.

The constant invitations, albeit accompanied by threatening tones, issued by Mussolini to the CGdL demonstrate this. And in *Popolo d’Italia* he wrote: ‘Collaborators are recruited especially from among the leaders of the CGdL’. 

But the CGdL, too, sought the same result, as demonstrated by its attempts to forge links through the D’Annunzio movement, culminating in its adherence to the ‘pacification pact’, etc., etc.

A project for a ‘Trade Union Constituent Assembly’ was also launched, aimed at isolating the extremist and communist elements within the CGdL, upholding the stated aim of ‘excluding any act that might harm the nation, whose general interest must, in all cases and by all, be considered superior to the particular interests of any trade or class. Trade unions must always be prepared to offer their technical cooperation to the State, regardless of any political considerations.”

At the time of the so-called March on Rome, the CGdL rejected the proposal for a general strike put forward by the communists because this, it was said, ‘would have compromised the independence of the labour movement and hindered the process of clarifying a situation that was becoming increasingly untenable’. 

Thus, the seizure of power by fascism—a political and military organisation founded and developed with the aim of destroying any form of proletarian organisation and subjugating the working classes to supreme national interests, that is, the interests of the employers—was of no interest whatsoever to the General Confederation of Labour. And it is easy to understand why.

It is now widely acknowledged that numerous contacts occurred between confederal leaders and Mussolini in the aftermath of the March on Rome, in the hope of participating as ministers in the first fascist governments.

Throughout this report, we have listed a whole series of contacts, promises and hopes on the part of the trade union bigwigs, and above all, the repeated declarations of ‘technical’ collaboration with the Mussolini government, asserting that fascist trade unionism was implementing the CGdL’s programme.

It was the Matteotti murder that interrupted, apparently and only for a moment, that idyll between trade union bosses and politicians with fascism.

Meanwhile, whilst Communist leaders were being regularly expelled and the Labour Chambers run by Communists were being dissolved, on the other side, there was a continuous exodus of leaders and entire federations who, lock, stock and barrel, defected to the Fascist trade unions. 

THE DISSOLUTION OF THE CGdL

The CGdL, which had two million members in 1920, had dwindled to just under 200,000 by 1926.

At the end of 1925, D’Aragona resigned as general secretary of the Confederation; he was succeeded by Bruno Buozzi, who remained in the post until he quietly slipped away. He was succeeded by Maglione. 

Time passed, and it was now clear that Mussolini would never seek the collaboration of the discredited bigwigs of the CGdL; yet, their mission was one of betrayal, and their task was to destroy what had been the most prestigious Italian proletarian organisation. 

On 4 January 1927, summoned by Maglione, the Executive Council of the CGdL met, during which three proposals were put forward: 1) the outright merger of the CGdL into the fascist corporative trade unions; 2) the purely formal continuation of the Confederation; 3) its immediate dissolution.

On the following 3 February, the text of the dissolution declaration appeared in all of Italy’s daily newspapers, stating: ‘The fascist regime is a reality and the reality. This reality has also sprung from our own principles, which have prevailed: the trade-union policy of fascism is, in certain respects, identical to ours. The Fascist regime has enacted a law regulating collective labour relations, which adopts principles that are also our own. We would be contradicting ourselves if we were to oppose the corporative state or the Labour Charter that the Fascist regime intends to implement. One need only recall our past votes and proposals to establish that we are bound to contribute through our actions to the success of these experiments.’

The document then concluded with an explicit offer of support to the fascist regime by the trade union bosses, who, thanks to the fascist regime, were able to arrogate to themselves the right to dissolve the CGdL and announce the demise of the so-called ‘red unions’. 

At the same time, the creation of a ‘National Association for the Study of Labour Issues’ was announced. Rigola explained the function and objectives of the Association in these terms: ‘Our Association will have as its aim the objective study of labour issues in relation to the directives and goals set by fascism. All the reforms that the Government has implemented and is implementing in the trade union sphere are of such magnitude that no one can deny them. We have seen our long-held aspirations fulfilled; for others, it has even seemed to go beyond what we had ever hoped for. With what other programme could we refute fascism if, on the trade union and social front, it was implementing our own?’ 

It was Fascism itself that was the first to be disgusted by this ignoble servility and, on 5 February, issued the following ‘order sheet’ to the newspapers: ‘The scope and significance of the letter from the former trade union leaders must not be exaggerated to the point of turning it into some sort of sensational event. The Fascist regime has no real need for such recognition.’

THE CGdL REORGANISES IN SECRECY

Following the dissolution of the CGdL by the bigwigs of the Executive Council in Paris, Bruno Buozzi attempted to set up a sham re-founding in exile. This would have allowed him to continue receiving subsidies from the Amsterdam International.

In Italy, however, the CGdL’s federations and grassroots organisations, meeting in conference on 20 February 1927, in response to the old traitorous leaders, reorganised a clandestine trade union centre, based on the following fundamental points:

1 – Internal governance on a democratic basis;

2 – External action based on the class struggle;

3 – Organic independence from all political parties and freedom of expression for all class-based trade union currents.

By that time, the PCI had become completely Stalinised, and the Left had no chance of making its voice heard among the working masses; yet we must acknowledge that the CGdL, having been re-established as an underground organisation, carried out important organisational and class-based work. And whilst its impact was limited due to state repression and the betrayal of the trade union bosses who had handed over the largest proletarian organisation to fascism, it was the only organisation dedicated to organising and defending the working class against the joint attack of the bosses and the state.

Those organised within the new CGdL certainly spared no effort and, supported by the proletariat, developed an active campaign of struggle.

On 15 March 1927, the first issue of ‘Battaglie Sindacali’ (underground) – the organ of the new CGdL – was published; a truly well-structured weekly, covering organisational and struggle work, news of various proletarian actions, trade union news, international conferences, etc.

The best-organised and most successful strike was that held from 29 June to 1 July by the 10,000 rice peelers in the provinces of Novara and Vercelli against drastic wage cuts. During the Executive Committee meetings, the positive results achieved among the proletarian masses were highlighted; note was taken of the small but numerous demonstrations and strikes by workers; and it was decided to distribute leaflets to urge workers to oppose the bosses’ constant attacks. 

The clandestine CGdL, purged of its opportunist leaders, was revived to channel all these movements, whose pace was intensifying day by day, and to lead them to their natural conclusion, their revolutionary conclusion.”

Naturally, this was a very difficult task to carry out under the constant threat of arrest due to infiltrated informers and police investigations.

The clandestine CGdL, however, bore within it the curse that would lead to its downfall: its dependence on Stalinism and its tactical shifts, or, if you will, its sudden about-turns.

Military Question: Operation White Sword (September 1919 – February 1920)

The Soviet leadership was well aware that further efforts were needed, in addition to those already made by the Red Army, to defend the proletarian revolution, particularly in light of the gradual advance of the “Moscow Directive” implemented by the White counterrevolutionaries. To best carry out his plans, Denikin aimed to secure Voronezh and Orel along the Tula axis, home to the Red Army’s most important arsenal and military industries; according to Trotsky, the loss of these would have been more severe than the loss of Moscow. 

Meanwhile, preparations were underway for the evacuation of Petrograd, which was considered difficult to defend against a White attack from northern Finland, from the sea by the British and French fleets, and from the west via Estonia.

For Denikin, the capture of Petrograd and the imminent capture of Moscow would have meant the total defeat of the proletarian revolution. Precisely for this reason, the Red Army was called upon to make a supreme effort to defend it.

The Allied command, under heavy pressure from Great Britain, urged Denikin to launch the final attack as soon as possible, assessing the state of the civil war across the entire theater of war as favorable to them. A new front to the north against Petrograd would also relieve Red pressure on Denikin’s southern front and on the Siberian front to the east, where Admiral Kolchak was attempting to reach Moscow from the east.

General Yudenich was tasked with forming a capable army to capture Petrograd, making the best use of generous British aid in the form of weapons, ammunition, tanks, vehicles, trains, some aircraft, as well as uniforms and food. Yudenich had already fought alongside the White nationalists against the Reds in Finland and Estonia, from whom he expected aid in exchange for his support of their independence.

He thus managed to organize a force of 19,000 hastily trained fighters, though it lacked a capable and proven command structure. Against these, the 7th Red Army could field 27,000 fighters with sufficient weaponry, though it had to control an extensive 250-km front stretching from the shores of the Gulf of Finland to the southern sector of Lake Peipus, while the White front was concentrated on a narrow 145-km front. Even those Red forces lacked efficiency because their best units had been transferred to the southern front to counter the advance on Moscow. 

An initial map of the area showing the movements of the maneuvers was displayed.

The White General Staff of this northwestern army had already studied two scenarios for an attack on Petrograd. The first prioritized the time factor to prevent the arrival of Red reinforcements and proposed a direct attack south of the city via the Gatchina railway junction. The second proposed a long flanking maneuver from the southeast, taking control of Novgorod and the Moscow–Petrograd railway to completely isolate the city from the south. Then came the final attack.

Operation “White Sword” emerged from a compromise between the two options, with the key element being the maneuver to cut all railway lines to prevent any resupply. The offensive involved an attack by seven columns from different directions to confuse the enemy and divert Red forces from the main assault.

September 28, 1919: The White offensive begins toward the Pskov-Luga railway line. After a week of fighting, the railway is under the control of the counterrevolutionaries.

October 10: The various columns began moving toward Petrograd, facilitated by the disarray of the Red forces of the 7th Army, which, to avoid being isolated, had to realign with those further south of the 15th Army.

The Soviet intelligence system failed to gather adequate information to understand the Whites’ true intentions.

October 11: The general White offensive begins with a vanguard of Mark V tanks. The Russian troops had no anti-tank defenses and were forced to retreat beyond the Luga River, whose bridges had been blown up during the previous campaign in May. This halted the tanks’ advance. The naval guns of the British fleet in the Gulf of Finland covered the White advance, and the Whites occupied Jamburg the following day.

In the days that followed, the White maneuver continued successfully toward the Tosno station on the main Moscow–Petrograd railway line. Unfortunately, in this case as well, the rapid White advance was possible because the Red troops retreated or surrendered upon first contact with the Whites. We have read part of Lenin’s letter, “To the Workers and Red Workers of Petrograd,” regarding the grave danger looming over Petrograd and the revolution.

October 16: Trotsky departs in his armored train for the northern front with a clear plan based on a correct analysis of the situation, which we have excerpted from “On the Road No. 97” from his military writings. He outlines his plan to defend the city by organizing a system of trenches and barbed-wire barriers to be laid out in a well-coordinated manner to trap the White units he presumed might penetrate Petrograd, as amply illustrated in “On the Road No. 98.”

To support his plan, he brought in reinforcements from Karelia, conscripted up to the class of 1901, ordered all party members capable of handling weapons to make themselves available, and initiated the construction of trenches and barricades in the city.

October 18: The third phase of Judenič’s attack began on three fronts. The Red defenses withstood the onslaught while the foreign press rejoiced at the fall of Petrograd, which would be confirmed by the White conquest of Pushkin and Tsarskoye Selo, once the tsar’s residences just a few kilometers from the city.

The counterrevolutionary plan was working when the White commander tasked with blocking the railway line from Moscow decided to disregard orders and sent only a small detachment—which was immediately neutralized by the Reds—in order to push the bulk of his forces toward Petrograd, fearing he would be excluded from the final battle and the resulting “glory.”

Ten trains a day carrying reinforcements of men, ammunition, and food were arriving on that line. Several of these new units were sent south to cut off the Whites’ retreat.

October 21: Denikin realized his units were falling apart, lacking even communication links between them, where his orders arrived late or were lost, preventing any change in strategy. Due to the losses suffered, he realized that if Petrograd did not fall at the first assault, it would no longer be possible to capture it. Trotsky, in “The Turn” in Journey No. 99, acknowledged the Whites’ difficulties, praised their initial partial successes, and urged a final effort.

October 22: Yudenich, after the White forces’ initial unsuccessful attacks on the Red defenses—due to the impossibility of controlling the individual columns, which were now moving separately from one another—realized that it was not possible to break through the Red front. Furthermore, no internal counterrevolutionary uprising had been launched in Petrograd by the “National Center,” which was merely awaiting his arrival to facilitate his entry. Instead, he found himself with his rear exposed.

October 22: That evening, the Red counteroffensive began against the junction of two White divisions, which were unable to withstand this unexpected night attack and were forced to abandon their positions at Tsarskoye Selo and the Pulkovo Heights. For this reason, the White vanguard units that had reached the outskirts of Petrograd immediately retreated to avoid being trapped.

Trotsky celebrated the success in “The First Blow” in Issue No. 100, stating that it was necessary to crush Yudenich definitively to ensure the security of Petrograd.

October 24 – November 2: Unsuccessful White counterattacks take place to regain positions.

November 3: A fierce assault from three directions by the 7th Red Army on Gatchina, the White center of gravity, simultaneous with that of the 15th Red Army on Luga and the Pskov–Petrograd railway—both successful—puts an end to Yudenich’s plans to take Petrograd. The White commanders decided to retreat in an orderly manner toward Estonia. Active, undefeated White pockets remained.

November 14: The last White resistance near Jamburg falls. Despite the difficulties, a large portion of the remaining White troops heads toward Estonia. Others under Yudenich continue fierce clashes with the Red Army.

January 3, 1920: The Soviet command, primarily concerned with the crisis with Poland, decided not to continue the offensive and offered Estonia peace and recognition of its independence, which was immediately accepted. The remaining White troops retreated, unarmed, across the Estonian border.

January 20: Yudenich disbands his army; part of it is evacuated by the British fleet; he then takes refuge in Nice on the French Riviera.

The failure of Operation White Sword was due to the British haste to launch the offensive even though the troops were not adequately prepared and were insufficient in number. Even more significant was the fierce rivalry among the various commanders, who on several occasions acted on their own initiative in defiance of the plans assigned by Judenič. Many of them were caught up in a self-serving rush to be the first to liberate Petrograd.

They used the Mark V tanks recklessly, sending them out as advance guards without infantry support. Soon the Red soldiers managed to neutralize them and capture some. Essentially, our success was due to an effectively centralized chain of command and an efficient supply system.

The turning point of the entire civil war came on October 23, when Yudenich’s White forces were forced to abandon their positions on the outskirts of Petrograd, and on the same day on the southern front, Denikin was definitively blocked at Orel, the furthest point of his “Moscow Directive.”

The labor movement in France

In the two previous reports, we described the various economic organizations of the European labor movement between the late 19th and early 20th centuries. We then examined the characteristics of the French labor movement (the revolutionary alliance between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat until February 1848, the importance of the petty bourgeoisie as a breeding ground for anarchism, parasitic finance capitalism, French imperialism, and the conquest of colonies as a source of corruption for a segment of the proletariat). 

This third report covers the beginnings of workers’ unions before 1871 up to the founding of the CGT in 1895 and the various socialist parties. After describing four periods in the evolution of the union form (1848–1871: phase of prohibition; 1871–1914: phase of expansion and subjugation; 1914–1926: revolutionary phase and the party; 1926–1945 and after 1945: phase of state totalitarianism and the state trade union), we begin by describing the prohibition phase with the first workers’ unions, up to the Paris Commune of 1871. This phase is marked by the infamous Le Chapelier Law of June 1791, when the bourgeoisie, having just triumphed over the monarchy thanks to its alliance with the proletariat, enacted a law prohibiting any association of workers. 

It took rivers of blood from the repression of June 1848 to convince the workers that the establishment of the Republic did not at all mean the abolition of bourgeois rule, but, as Marx states, that the subversion of the state form and the dictatorship of the working class were necessary. The First International was founded in 1864, but Marxists and anarchists clashed within it, which convinced Marx and Engels of the need, due to the ebb of the struggles, to dissolve it in 1872 to remove it from the influence of the anarchists. 

After the Paris Commune’s 1871 assault on heaven and the fierce repression that followed, the labor and socialist movement developed ever more rapidly due to industrial development and the growth of the proletariat. Various socialist currents emerged that defended the interests of workers. 

The first current was that of Pierre Joseph Proudhon, who advocated social change through self-management and mutual aid, but without parliament or violent struggle. The second current was that of the anarchist Fernand Pelloutier, one of the fathers of revolutionary syndicalism, who left a lasting mark on French syndicalism and the CGT until World War I. He launched the Bourse du Travail (Labor Exchanges) movement, which served multiple functions of mutual aid, education, and struggle, welcoming trade unions; these exchanges became genuine instruments of propaganda and workers’ struggle. The late 19th century was thus characterized by the development of the revolutionary trade union movement, whose base consisted of small businesses and artisans who owned their own tools of labor. The Marxist current known as “collectivist” began to develop in 1876 with Paul Lafargue, Marx’s son-in-law and translator, and Jules Guesde, who in October 1880 founded the French Workers’ Party with a program for which Marx had prepared the “considerations,” and whose working-class base was that of large industries. But other socialist parties were formed, such as the “possibilists” of Paul Brousse, advocates of achievable demands; Jaurès and Millerand founded the Party of Independent Socialists in 1890; and Edouard Vaillant brought together Blanqui’s disciples in the Revolutionary Socialist Party. The crisis of the Dreyfus Affair (1894–1906), during a period of political instability marked by anarchist attacks and the rise of anti-Semitic, monarchist, and militarist clerical movements, led most socialists, including the Guesdists, to defend the Republic threatened by a “coup d’état”—a scenario that was, in reality, highly unlikely. The Second International, dominated by German social democracy corrupted by reformism, strongly advocated for the unification of French socialist forces. Millerand, supported by Jaurès, agreed to join the liberal government alongside Gallifet, one of the perpetrators of the massacre of the Commune. And in 1905, the Possibilists, Independents, Guesdists, and a portion of Vaillant’s party united in a French Section of the Workers’ International, the SFIO, led by Jaurès, while the Guesdists by then had little influence. The French bourgeoisie had sidelined the clericals and the military and was becoming republican by subjugating the socialist movement.

After describing four periods in the evolution of the trade union form (1848–1871: prohibition phase; 1871–1914: expansion and subjugation phase; 1914–1926: revolutionary trajectory and the party; 1926–1945 and after 1945: phase of state totalitarianism and the state trade union), we begin by describing the prohibition phase, from the first workers’ unions up to the Paris Commune of 1871. This phase is marked by the infamous Le Chapelier Law of June 1791, enacted by the bourgeoisie—which had just triumphed over the monarchy thanks to its alliance with the proletariat—prohibiting any association of workers. It took the bloodshed of the June 1848 repression to convince workers that the establishment of the Republic did not mean the abolition of bourgeois rule, but rather, as Marx asserted, the overthrow of the existing state and the dictatorship of the working class. The First International was founded in 1864, but Marxists and anarchists clashed within it, which convinced Marx and Engels, given the waning of the struggles, of the need to dissolve it in 1872 to prevent it from falling under anarchist control. 

After the Paris Commune uprising of 1871 and the fierce repression that followed, the labor and socialist movement grew ever more rapidly thanks to industrial development and the expansion of the proletariat. Various socialist currents emerged that defended the interests of workers. 

The first current was that of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, who advocated social change through self-management and mutual aid, but without a parliament or violent struggles. The second current was that of the anarchist Fernand Pelloutie, one of the fathers of revolutionary syndicalism, who left an indelible mark on French trade unionism and the CGT (General Confederation of Labor) until World War I. The Bourse du Travail (Labor Exchange) movement began, with its multiple functions of mutual aid, education, and struggle, welcoming the unions. These exchanges became true instruments of propaganda and workers’ struggle. 

The so-called “collectivist” Marxist current developed starting in 1876 with Paul Lafargue, Marx’s son-in-law and translator, and Jules Guesde, who founded the French Workers’ Party in October 1880 with a program whose “principles” had been elaborated by Marx and whose working-class base was that of large industries. But other socialist parties emerged, such as the “possibilists” of Paul Brousse, advocates of achievable demands. Jaurès, together with Millerand, founded the Independent Socialist Party in 1890; Édouard Vaillant would later unite Blanqui’s followers in the Revolutionary Socialist Party. The Dreyfus Affair (1894–1906), which occurred during a period of political instability marked by anarchist attacks and the rise of anti-Semitic and militarist clerical movements, prompted most socialists, including the Guesdists, to rally to the defense of the Republic, which they perceived as threatened by a coup d’état—a likely outcome in reality. The unity of French socialist forces was strongly desired by the Second International, dominated by German social democracy, which was itself permeated by reformism. Millerand, supported by Jaurès, agreed to join the liberal government alongside Gallifet, one of the architects of the massacre of the Commune. And in 1905, the Possibilists, the Independents, the Guesdists, and a faction of Vaillant’s party united in the French Section of the Workers’ International (SFIO), led by Jaurès, while the Guesdists exerted ever less influence. The French bourgeoisie had sidelined the clergy and the army and was reaffirming its republicanism by subduing the socialist movement.