Introductory Notes to the Party Theses, 1976-1998

1976

The reason why our small organizational network defines itself as a party certainly isn’t due to our number of members, nor even due to our territorial extent. Both of those things are materially irrelevant. The reason we call ourselves a party is the same reason why Marx, during the dark period between the bloody defeat of 1848 and the founding of the First International, wrote in a letter to his faithful Frederick Engels that “I, you, Lupus and a few others are the party”—much to the chagrin of the self-proclaimed “political men” of the English labor movement.

The true reason for these categorizations lies in the class program on which the fighting organization rests, hence the Left’s definition of the party: “A school of thought and a method of action.”

The party’s theses are the crystallization of the revolutionary world proletariat’s historical experience, whose transmission from generation to generation is entrusted to an organized body of militants. The theses describe the victories and defeats of the working class, the historical events in which they developed; they codify the correct position of the working class in its struggle for emancipation. This work is simultaneously historiographic—given the indispensable need to review the forces at play—critically analytical in drawing the lessons necessary for victory, and combative in instilling directives for action within the ranks of the working class.

If we only represented the transient movement of the proletariat, then we would have no need for theses, let alone doctrine, and could only be called half of a party at most—a party in organization alone. It would be totally ephemeral, destined to die with the generation which saw it arise. What allows us to recognize the party is not our own “party arrogance”, but rather a proper appreciation of the programmatic and doctrinal foundations. These essential foundations allow us to see, within the actions of just a handful of people (or at certain historical low points, none at all), the drive towards the organization of a “vast and powerful” social class, advancing towards victory.

Indeed, proletarian action preceded the establishment of the proletarians as a class—that is, as a party distinct from all other classes and parties. We have here the reversal of praxis: a historical class aiming to dominate the world cannot act as a class without a special organ, the party-organ.

The bourgeoisie, as a class subordinate to the feudal nobility before its conquest of power, already had to do the same thing. However, its own nature, as an oppressor and exploiter of other classes, imprinted its action with growing and irremediable contradictions; and its thinking, which first was linear and sharp, now became convoluted and conformist. The bourgeoisie was transformed from a revolutionary class into a reactionary class. Its party, torn apart by these contradictions, has lost continuity and ties with its own history. Like the bourgeoisie itself, its party survives past its prime, no longer recognizes its own origins, sees no future, and lives only from day to day.

The same fate would befall the working class and the party-organ if we lost the thread leading from the first sporadic struggles of small groups of workers against the upper classes, to the general organized struggle against the State, to the victory and full Communism. The Theses are this thread, which unfolds over the course of more than a century. Class action periodically breaks down. It is the signal of a momentary crisis, either due to a defeat at the hands of the enemy class, or due to absorbing the enemy’s positions due to errors, weaknesses, betrayals. But the Theses, the lessons remain—a legacy for the future attacks of future generations.

Due to the inherent dynamics of the class, the party’s positions must be interconnected into a coherent system. Since if even one position were to contradict this “system,” it would disrupt the general direction of the class and reverse its trajectory. It is from this material observation that one of the party’s core theorems arises: the inviolability of the theses.

Once these cornerstones have been established, the body of theses—which we refer to as “post-WWII” only for the sake of chronology—could only be the dialectical continuation of theses from earlier historical periods. These theses therefore develop along the lines of the programmatic continuity traced by the party from its historical origins, which we place in 1848, up to the present day.

We cannot choose the theses at will, nor prefer any of them to others, nor are we permitted to correct or adapt any of them, because it would break the direction of the party. And if we break the party’s direction, then we also break the action and the party itself as an organization. In such cases, which have happened often, one inevitably has to start over by picking up the thread where it was broken. It is no coincidence that those times of extreme weakness in class coincide with the loss of this guiding thread, and that shortly afterward we see the flourishing of “renewers,” “correctors,” and “enrichers.” This is a factual condition that characterizes periods of depression and defeat for the class. Conversely, when the class party re-emerges, it must first reconnect with the point where the thread was broken, and reweave the revolutionary fabric. Indeed, the clearest signal of the party’s reconstruction is precisely this effort to restore doctrine and program, to reaffirm the invariant principles of revolutionary Marxism. Therefore, the theses are the organic product of the life and struggle of the party, not a literary exercise by its more or less skilled members. In this sense, a good party is one that formulates theses consistent with its tradition.

We wrote in Dialogue with Stalin in 1952: “The problem of theoretical knowledge does not rest on individual geniuses, nor on consulting the majority—whether the ‘rank and file’ is small or large—but on a foundation that transcends entire generations and continents in its invariant unity.” The Left does not have any special doctrine, program, or principles. It has only those which we call—for the sake of synthesis—Marx and Lenin’s. Their value wouldn’t diminish one bit if the Left contradicted them; instead, it is the Left that would be devalued.

The resolute force of today’s small party can only be that of absolute fidelity to the Left. To be faithful certainly doesn’t mean repeating verses from the party theses seven times a day, but rather working hard to defend them, to disseminate them within the class, to translate them into terms of practical battle, in a struggle orientation.

The Theses, whether they deal with the most general programmatic issues (such as the “Characteristic Theses” of 1951), or with specific subjects (the “Considerations” of 1965), always take doctrine and tradition as their starting point. They seek to align the present position with the past positions, in an unbroken line of continuity, in order to discern the class—that is, a formation of men deployed in the line of battle. Every time the party is about to undertake a certain action, it must ask itself whether this contradicts its previous actions and those it will need to take in the future. In this way, the party simultaneously engages in a process of research and analysis, of clarifying and sculpting its theory, while disciplining its action and organization. This point has always been hard to digest: about discipline and organization in general, and the party’s internal life in particular. The central leadership mistakenly believed that it could obtain obedience to its orders, whatever they might be, by relying on an abstract, military-style conception of discipline and proclaiming the organization as “ironclad,” expecting it to always respond with a resounding “Yes, sir!” Far too often, they made it seem as if the orders were good simply because they came from the central headquarters. And when defeats and disappointments inevitably came to disprove such foolish assumptions, they resorted to an even more foolish practice: replacing leaders, and throwing the party leadership out the window. In other words, they took the easiest way out—the typical way that the bourgeois state uses to demand absolute submission from its citizens. By considering itself above society—by resorting to judges and codes of law.

Party discipline, like party membership, must be voluntary and spontaneous. If the party does not achieve this, or is not based on this premise, then it easily falls into weakness. And somewhere in the party, there must be the strength and courage to seek out the causes of disobedience and indiscipline in deviations from doctrine, program, and tactics.

It is no mere coincidence that the party’s history is marked by theses. Theses, unlike texts, assert and proclaim; they do not explain or debate. The party’s theses are the antithesis of the class enemy. We do not aim to discuss or debate the positions of the bourgeoisie. We want to tear them down. Conversely, the party’s positions are affirmed and put into practice.

To others, this uncompromising stance has always seemed like dogmatism. They view theses as their “Sunday best”, like a fancy jacket you display at official ceremonies, congresses, and meetings, like a modern-day Pharisee. Yes, the theses are also a uniform, a code of conduct, a “morality” that the party organization must practice every day, both in public and in private. Engels called his draft of the Communist Manifesto a “catechism.” We do not hesitate to regard the entire body of party theses as the Bible of the modern proletariat, certain and proud to outrage the petty-bourgeois philistine and the most philistine of them all, the ex-comrade obsessed with “free will,” whose only ambition is to leave his useless name to history.

As the inevitable tragic end of the decaying world of capitalism draws closer, the uncompromising stances of the revolutionary class struggle gain strength, which the party’s positions readily translate into rules of combat. Others, however, deemed it appropriate to temporarily suspend the application of these rules, citing pretexts of specific or exceptional “situations,” swearing up and down that they would never let them fall into oblivion. In doing so, the party’s lifeblood was drained; and its mighty heart, now with a faltering beat, finally stopped. Without the metaphors: since the theses are the guiding tables for the party’s action and life, once these were put “in the attic,” the party was pushed into disarray, and opened to disorganization and betrayal. Open insults to the party’s “morals” followed with growing frequency. The organization shattered into separate conventicles, held together only by the courage of ignorance, and the fear of breaking a now formalistic and sanctimonious discipline.

A “party of theses” was transformed into a “party of opinions,” incapable of understanding, willing, or acting. Objective study of facts was replaced by “free interpretation.” The party became a circle of intellectuals—or so-called intellectuals—in ideological competition with the ranks of the official intelligentsia.

All parties are torn apart by the inability to make predictions. In the economic field, there is no bourgeois “plan” that can match the “mysteries” of reality. In times of crisis like this, this is visible to the naked eye. Science is needed to predict the future. Capitalism is no longer capable of science. The party is. But there is no science for science’s sake; it only arises from needs, and in a society divided into classes, from class needs. The science of the proletariat is based upon the proletariat’s primary need: the need for communism. Striving to meet this need means giving oneself a program, a class plan. The theses encapsulate the program, the plan, the tactics. They are the tracks laid down for the social revolution of the proletariat to drive forward towards its natural outcome: the victory of communism. The primary task of the party is to keep this track unaltered to prevent the revolutionary train from derailing, by reinforcing the tracks again and again. On the other hand, the surrounding enemy world crashes against the party by every possible means, trying to divert its course and halt its progress. Woe to us if we are tempted by the illusion of an easier, shorter, or less arduous path!

Some have wanted to see in the 1965-66 theses a kind of nebulous utopianism, a contradiction with the past—particularly with Lenin—and a lack of codified directives.

Since these are ‘theses on the structure’ of the party, was there an expectation of an organizational code that would allow the hierarchy to cut short, decide, pass judgments, and issue rulings within the party ranks, invoking some rule from a given paragraph of the theses? Was it the aim to replace the bourgeois ritual of majority democracy with arbitrary decision-making, which inevitably takes on the most formalistic expressions and which the theses now identify as “ideological terrorism,” “factionalism from above,” “lack of fraternal consideration” among comrades, “bureaucratic exercises,” and so forth? Did they not realize that these are inseparable aspects of “democratic mystification” and that just as the party rejects the most visible aspect of democracy—the consent or dissent of majorities and minorities—it also forever rejects all the other overt and covert mechanisms typical for the organizational structures of the propertied classes?

Thus, on one hand, there was an attempt to exert authority over the entire party merely by virtue of being the central leadership, and on the other, a belief that the party would be strengthened by changing its direction—aggravating it with political infighting, expressed in the typical bourgeois forms of expulsions, dissolutions or recompositions of sections, dividing the organization into the virtuous and the reprobate, engaging in personal polemics and criticisms. In doing so, the party was transformed into small courts of discipline, paying deference to whichever central leadership was in charge.

Dispelling all this garbage—mistakenly considered part of the party’s patrimony—is not an innovation, but rather a vigorous and radiant reaffirmation of the tradition of revolutionary Marxism. Our “authoritarianism” has always been mystified as a stupid and senseless domination over the party by a superior individual or elite group, according to Stalinist interpretations—as well as social-democratic and anarchist ones.

Authority belongs to the party, is not over the party. And individuals serve as its useful instruments only insofar as all, from top to bottom, are subordinated to it. The authority of the party emanates from its programmatic principles, its doctrine, its correct tactics. We on the Left have called this the dictatorship of the program, which no member can avoid as long as they remain a militant in the political party of the class. A leader, strong in heart, intellect, and youth, is welcome—provided that he places these personal attributes in service to the cause, under the revolutionary program’s peremptory and indisputable orders, especially binding on him.

The texts that support the theses demonstrate that all of this was clearly anticipated and outlined by Marx and Lenin.

The battle that the Left was forced to undertake within the Communist International initially took the form of discussions at congresses, meetings, and subsequently in texts published in party newspapers and journals. Later, when the errors and deviations became more profound and dangerous, it became necessary for the Left to employ its own counter-theses, in opposition to the theses dictated by the international and Italian Center.

In other words, a firm line of demarcation had to be drawn to make the party’s correct positions distinguishable from those that were erroneous and contradictory, to protect the party itself.

Discussion was no longer enough; it became increasingly painful and impossible in a charged atmosphere of organizational, disciplinary, and ideological pressures, in which slander, physical threats, corruption, and blackmail were also used.

The Left was alone in this work of defending and restoring the doctrine, principles, and program. It became clear that this was a struggle over the “goal,” no longer a debate over the “means.” This is always the case when the party relies on “empty authoritarianism” and abandons the “objective study of issues,” replacing it with political supremacy.

It was a matter of calling the remaining forces of the party and rallying around its enduring positions. The Left represented a citadel, besieged by corrupt hordes at the service of the counterrevolution.

The theses carry this historical and combative significance as well. They did not emerge from a leisurely meeting of the brilliant minds, but from revolutionary passion, from hatred against the enemy and the traitors. These conditions remain ever-present, with varying intensity, even today, when every group claims to have discovered a new truth and possess the infallible, private recipe.

We said it back then, and we repeat it today: the guarantee against the party’s defeat and relapse into opportunism—even if the attempts to shield the party from it are well-intentioned—does not lie in forms and formalities, in organizational techniques, or in the selection of an elite panel of “the best.” If any guarantee exists, it is found in the complete and absolute respect for all the party’s positions and in the consistent practice of them.

Central authority has been excessively abused, exercised in the name of “centralism,” while overriding the party and dispensing oneself from making the continuity of rules of life and action known to the entire organization.

“Centralism without adjectives” is an essential function of the class party, but when the center’s function becomes detached from the complex of all functions, it stifles and—over time—kills the party.

We did not oppose Stalin’s dictatorship as the personification of the proletarian dictatorship, but as the ferocious totalitarianism of the counterrevolution imposed onto the party, onto the class, and the proletarian state. The heroic examples of the highest leaders of October, who preferred to accuse themselves of the most horrific crimes against the revolution rather than oppose the party, irrevocably condemn those who—in the name of the Revolution, the Party, and Marxism—subject loyal militants to similar abuses, humiliations, and disgrace.

The post-WWII theses hold a special significance because, unlike those from the first congresses of the Communist International which laid the foundation for a unified world party, they draw lessons from the most terrible wave of counter-revolution in the history of the modern proletariat: the one that followed the defeat of the October Revolution, and the destruction of the Communist International.

The small party of today has found itself before a mountain of rubble from the workers’ movement. The proletarian state, the class union, the soviets, and even the party have been destroyed. Year Zero for the working class. The scale of this historical tragedy can also be measured by the vast disparity between the speed the global bourgeoisie rebuilt its productive apparatus, strengthened its repressive machinery against the proletariat and the revolution, and the extreme, disheartening slowness with which the global working class is attempting to free itself from capitalist domination, and reconnect with its revolutionary party.

In the past 50 years, from 1926 to today, the proletariat has lost all of its class character, dissolving into the folds of the vile society of the present day. Rarely has there been a stirring. In this dire negative phase, revolutionary action means the restoration and defense of the doctrinal, programmatic, and tactical intransigence of revolutionary communism, for the reconstruction of the unified world party. The revolution demands it.

Through what breaches has opportunism passed? It began with openings in the field of tactics, through the deadly practice of blocs, fronts, and alliances with political parties and groups. This set off a chain reaction invading the sphere of organization and the internal life of the party, bending it to the consequences of a suicidal tactic. From there, true betrayal spread throughout the international party, tearing apart the organization with the typically bourgeois tactic of homo homini lupus (man to man is wolf). The enemy forces were able to grow stronger, not only because of favorable objective conditions aided by tactical errors, but because the party collapsed internally, making their continued dominance possible even today.

After the heroic fall of the glorious Paris Commune of 1871, the First International was not destroyed by a passage to the enemy. The setback in workers’ struggles was due to the tremendous bloodshed caused by the counterrevolutionary repression of the democratic French republic. Even before the Second International crossed over to the enemy, orthodox revolutionary wings had been able to form within it, which became the nucleus of the Third International immediately after WWI: the Russian Bolsheviks, the German Spartacists, and the Italian Left.

With the collapse of October and the Third International, all parties fell into enemy hands, en masse. They were broken by terror, denunciations, and murders—often more at the hands of new White Guards nestled at the top of the organization than by the direct hand of bourgeois gangs. To crush this international network—strong in numbers, reach, and battle experience—it was not enough to steer it with disastrous tactics; it had to be chained, muzzled, discredited, and then have its members executed when they heroically exposed errors and betrayals.

The poison of opportunism, precursor to betrayal, spread by this route, which the theses stigmatize and point to as dangerous paths to be avoided and shunned, regardless of who proposes them.

Whenever communist militants encounter these manifestations, they must recognize them as signs of opportunist infiltration within the organization. The party to be reborn must not only be well-oriented in doctrine and tactics, according to the lessons synthesized in the theses, but must also adhere, not marginally, to the rules of internal life and organization. These rules are specified by the theses, in the now definitive and tested formula of “organic centralism”.

1998

Why reprint a text today, in 1997, on the programmatic, tactical, and organizational foundations of the International Communist Party? Why after the death of Communism has been celebrated everywhere, with the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the USSR—a few years ago now?

The opening line of the Communist Manifesto of 1848, “A specter is haunting Europe—the specter of communism,” now seems, it is claimed, to no longer scare any bourgeois—pardon, any citizen—since both the specter and the fear of it have supposedly vanished for good.

Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the opposite is true: the final reckoning, the clash between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, between the capitalist mode of production and communism, draws even closer. It accelerates with a financial and productive crisis that only yesterday struck the former USSR, and now directs its implacable scythe toward the “Asian Tigers”. The USSR dissolved due to a profound and classical capitalist crisis—not because no one in the countries under Moscow’s control still “believed in” what was falsely presented as communism.

We will never tire of repeating, and this reprinted text stands here to reinforce it, that Communism is not a temporary fashion. Nor is it a romantic ideology devised in the minds of enlightened thinkers of the 19th century, outdated and irrelevant today. Rather, Communism is a historical product and necessity: it arises from the deep contradictions and inequalities of the capitalist mode of production, based on the division and exploitation of classes bound by the social constraints of private property, and represents the necessary means of transcending these constraints to reach a higher, classless mode of production. No more “to each their own” according to their private share of capital invested in the globalized economy, but instead “to each according to their needs!”

Capitalist exploitation remains alive, always hungrier for proletarian blood and sweat, as we see in the rising and spreading poverty across the planet, while the oppressed masses grow in number and desperation. Slowly and painfully, the necessity of overcoming this torment grows stronger worldwide—a necessity that will only cease in Communism, through the proletarian revolution directed by its designated organ: the International Communist Party, firmly grounded on its programmatic, tactical, and organizational foundations. These foundations are encapsulated in the theses, as “the crystallization of the historical experience of the global proletariat, entrusted for transmission from generation to generation to an organized body of militants.”

No space should be granted to today’s so-called communist refounders, who do nothing but replant the malignant seed of opportunism and peaceful social compromise among the workers; their sweet appeals are enticing and reassuring at first but always lead to certain ruin.

No space should also be granted to those petty-bourgeois opportunists affected by a cult of personality, nor to those who believe that doctrine ended definitively with the death of comrade X or Y. Though these old comrades are worthy of great honor and deep respect, they cannot and must not be regarded as the personification of the party form or as the sole sources of pure theory—or worse, as was for shopkeepers of every era, reliable resources for editorial sales. Our theory is anonymous and collective; it is the product of and belongs to the world working class, continually sharpened and clarified in the ongoing process of class struggle.

The indisputable whole of the party’s program exercises its dictatorship over the party itself and over its loyal and sincere militants. Only in this way does the sure march, albeit long awaited and postponed, toward Communism continue at the right pace.