Chapter 6 - Before the confrontation: the relation of forces

Submitted by Spassmaschine on October 23, 2009

The Bourgeoisie and the “Workers Party”
The economic crisis at the end of 1918 and the beginning of 1919 was primarily due to economic disorganization caused by the war and the need for peacetime reconversion: at this level alone, it was not a crisis in the sense of a cyclical crisis. Its features (a considerable decrease in production, a large trade deficit, a million unemployed at the beginning of 1919—with 250,000 unemployed in Berlin alone—a 2/3 decline in the exchange value of the mark) were conjunctural effects of the war and reconversion. Germany would later regain its competitive position. But the prohibition of strikes and the scarcity of the necessities for survival placed the workers in a very difficult position which, in addition to all kinds of sacrifices during the war, generated a permanent readiness for violent action and insurrection in an important fraction of the proletariat which would last until March of 1921, even when reformism had become generally dominant. For this revolutionary movement, the democratic revolution of November was just one moment within the process of social revolution.

The way capitalism managed to survive and to crush subversion was basically new. All the institutions which one would have thought would have served the counterrevolution had collapsed. First of all, the State and the Army; the bourgeoisie remained in the background, its parties having relinquished political power (see the previous Chapter). The bourgeoisie yielded to the socialists, whose leader, Ebert, reassured them: “We are the only ones who can maintain order.” Among the pre-revolutionary hierarchies, the SPD and the ADGB were the only institutions which were still effective on a national scale in Germany. They had a great deal of influence over the reformist majority of the workers. In most cases, workers’ initiatives designated SPD members as their representatives in negotiations, even in particularly radical regions like the Ruhr and Berlin.

Nowhere did the proletariat undertake decisive measures of the kind advocated by Lenin in his Message to the Soviet Republic of Bavaria of April 27, 1919. It is against this backdrop that one must evaluate the extent of the movement and the vicissitudes of the left. Except for Bremen and Dresden (bastions of the left radicals within the future KAPD), the SPD would continue to control the majorities in the councils of almost all the large cities.1 The proletarians did not create their own military organization and only part of the proletariat—with the exception of Hamburg, Kiel and Dresden—took up arms. In the Alsace the movement was suffocated under the weight of nationalism, due to the struggle for influence between Francophiles and Germanophiles.2 In Bremen the council dismissed nationalist professors and reactionary functionaries, and organized a red guard. In Brunswick a red guard was formed and the judiciary was purged. In most cases, this amounted to the destruction of only “half” of the State: but one does not get rid of the State with halfway measures. In Hamburg the Soldiers Council was in the hands of the popular militia (Volkswehr) formed in November 1918 from the Reichswehr Ninth Army Corps, without anyone knowing just who was in command. Laufenberg proposed, on November 12, that the traditional political institutions be dissolved.3 But the Council came up against economic and social problems which it could not solve in the bourgeois manner (due to a lack of money), and which it did not try to solve in a communist way. Attempting to discover a third way, it prepared its own downfall. On the 16th, a delegation of capitalists offered financial assistance on the condition that it would have the right to control the use of the funds. The Council then provisionally reinstated the traditional institutions so as not to frighten the American bourgeoisie who were about to grant a loan to Germany. A “Consultative Economic Council” composed of industrialists took charge of financial affairs. On the 18th, with municipal elections having been announced for April 1, 1919, and the political form not having received a revolutionary content, it was logical that it would immediately be jeopardized as such. The councils “committed suicide” after December 1918, upon accepting the convocation of a constituent assembly, and the classic local institutions elected by universal suffrage. The workers ruled entire cities, but accomplished nothing.

In Bavaria, the transformations in the army were purely formal: certain rights were conceded to the soldiers in exchange for their general obedience to their officers.4 Even worse, the only effect of this reform was to exacerbate the officers’ hatred for all social change, without having granted, in exchange, the means for the soldiers to organize themselves against the officer corps. J. Knief considered “the practice of many of the soldiers councils to be counterrevolutionary”.5 It was within the proletariat itself that the issue would be decided. The majority of the workers, organized in trade unions and led by the SPD, would be the agent for capital’s survival. Capital only exists because the proletariat creates it, and the proletariat reproduces capital until the general breakdown of the relations integral to capital, together with the experience of numerous failed revolutions, compels the proletariat to struggle and gives it the ability to fight for its survival by rejecting its own condition as proletariat, rather than in order to survive, by way of political reforms and activities, as workers who sell their labor power.

After taking power, the SPD declared the revolution was over, at least in its phase of violence and mass action. The party of the working class being in power, and the working class thus having taken political power in its hands, the revolutionary transformation of social relations (what was called socialization) was only a question of time: it was a matter of a progressive and peaceful process. The development of capital still had to continue, since only a capital which had arrived at the ultimate stage of its development could be “socialized”. For this reason, order must reign, and the “Spartacists” must be crushed, “Spartacists” being another way of saying “reactionary lumpenproletariat”.

The workers movement came to consider the revolutionary proletarians as marginal in respect to the “working class”. This was also the source of the rise of racism: anti-Semitism wreaked havoc in the workers movement,6 especially the variety directed against the eastern Jews who had come from Russia and Poland to find work or to escape from pogroms.

“The Jews of the east are, for the most part, a proletarian group mired in filth, poverty, and the lowest moral level of commerce. Unable to adapt to industry, their physical constitution, furthermore, generally renders them ill-suited for industrial or agricultural labor.”

Considering fact that these lines were extracted from the SPD’s leading journal, Neue Zeit, one can imagine what forms anti-Semitism assumed in everyday agitation and propaganda. Becker, an SPD deputy in the national assembly, declared in that forum, in 1919: “The Warschovskys, the Auerbachs and the Sickmanns of Lodz, the Stachovskys and the Alexandrovitchs of Warsaw are doing business everywhere in Breslau and Berlin. They cross the frontiers with false or expired passports. They lounge about, with their characteristic arrogance, in the first class compartments of our express trains. . . . This gang, it truly does not deserve to continue to live on this earth, we must . . . eliminate these parasites from our world.”

Having a better appreciation than anyone else for the revolutionary potential of the radical sector, the driving force of the movement which had just been unleashed, the SPD took measures to confront it, while it diverted the “masses” with grand speeches about the advent of socialization. One can see the ideology of socialization in P. Lensch, who moved from the left to the socialist right wing and who announced on the eve of the peace that capital would emerge from the conflict as “a captive of socialism”.7 Economic socialization was inevitable: “capitalism must be organized”. Prefiguring the Nazis, which is to say the language of National Socialism so dear to the SPD, he presented the alternative between “social” organization” and “plutocratic” organization. The State “has undergone a process of socialization” and social democracy has experienced a process of “nationalization”: “For the first time in history, we are establishing harmony between the State and the people.” Nazism would receive its “totalitarian language” from social democracy.

In an article on Socialization,8 Pannekoek criticized the term itself, which alone designates nothing but organized capitalism or “State socialism”. But he did not discuss the notion of a community without exchange. Nor would Gorter:9

“The proletariat must take State and legislative power into its hands. It must guarantee a minimum of the means of subsistence to all the workers and to all those who must become workers. It must take over the management of all production, of trade and transportation, and of the distribution of production. It must decree compulsory labor for all. It must repudiate the State’s debts; confiscate war profits; it must only tax capital and income and thereby arrive at a confiscation of capital. It must expropriate the Banks and large industry. It must socialize the land.”

The SPD also availed itself of violent measures. After November 10, Ebert was in contact with the Army’s leaders and assured them of his assistance: the distrust, and even more than distrust, on the part of the General Staff with respect to social democracy was a habit which would not disappear simply because the latter held government power. It was at this moment that Ebert uttered his famous phrase: “we are the only party which can maintain order.”10 On the 11th, Ebert’s government made haste to sign the armistice so as to be able to dedicate itself to a more essential war. Since the Army had to be dismantled according to the terms of the armistice, its leaders undertook the construction of Freikorps: even so, the military means at the disposal of the counterrevolution were still scarce, which was a powerful reason for choosing which tactic to follow. The SPD faced a unique situation, unlike, for example, that faced by its Austrian counterparts.11 Founded in 1889 by an accord between radical and moderate socialists, Austrian social democracy did not have to vote for war credits, since the government had suspended parliament in March of 1914. It did, however, support the State (above all K. Renner and V. Adler, against the opposition of F. Adler). Austrian social democracy did not have as much blood on its hands as its German neighbor, and preserved, for the most part, a leftist ideology and semblance. “Socialization” and democracy had relatively greater importance in Austria than in Germany from the point of view of direct repression.12 The Function of Democracy
Democracy served all purposes. Trade union leaders and employers, who had long served on the same commissions, quickly signed the accord known under the name of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft: literally, the “community of labor”. The businessman, who was aware that the period rendered a great number of measures impractical, surrendered “everything” to preserve what was essential.

For the trade unions and the SPD this reaction was excellent propaganda for guaranteeing a good beginning for socialization and for preventing strikes. Significant reforms, for that era, were adopted, such as the principle of the eight hour day. In particular, the trade unions were recognized as valid interlocutors and components within the enterprise. Joint committees were made obligatory, composed of trade union and employer representatives in enterprises with more than 20 employees: this measure would be implemented in January 1920 under the rubric of the “law on enterprise councils”. Instead of going on strike and conducting propaganda campaigns, it was better to discuss matters with the joint committee: this is what the anti-trade union left would call “economic democracy”.

Council democracy revived parliamentary democracy, the trade unions being unable to overcome the simulacrum of parliamentary democracy within their own ranks. In December, the elections for the provincial assemblies were organized: the SPD won a majority, except in Saxony where the USPD emerged victorious. Part of the revolutionary movement’s energy was distracted, and the consciousness which it had built with its own efforts faded. The SPD declared its support for the election of a constituent assembly to determine the form which the future republican and democratic Germany would assume. But the SPD’s power was the product of a movement which had taken the form of councils and not of a parliament. In conformity with the ceaselessly repeated statement that the councils exercised all power and that the peoples commissars were only their delegates, it must have been expected that the pan-German Council Congress would itself decide to convoke, by means of elections in which all classes would participate, a constituent assembly into whose hands it would deliver its power. This is what the Congress which took place in Berlin between December 16 and 20 decided: from then on, the essential outlines of the decisive confrontation were fixed. Immediately afterwards, the attack on the Volksmarinedivision took place.

In order to prevent the revolutionary wave from sweeping everything away, the counterrevolution consolidated the only really existing means to stop it: the reformist majority of the working class, which in addition had its own concrete goals--negotiations with the employers, councils, elections. Everything was connected together by democratic ideology, and defended by the [i]Freikorps. It was on this last level that the shoe pinched: the military apparatus of the counterrevolution was short on soldiers, while the workers were armed. The first direct attack on the radicals (the Volksmarinedivision) would fail (see the next Chapter). This would give way to the tactic of progressively crushing the partial uprisings in the various regions of Germany, since the counterrevolutionary assault could not be simultaneously concentrated in more than one region at a time. There were two successive counterrevolutionary waves, in January-February and March-April 1919, each of which began in Berlin. This relative weakness of the State also explains why Bavaria could enjoy “self-determination” until May.

This tactic could not have succeeded unless the revolution, despite its scale, was unable to act simultaneously and with one will. Each council power had specific problems of all kinds which it hoped to solve locally. There is no example of a movement which was victorious in one State and devoted itself to agitation in a neighboring State. Among the leftists, it seems that Wolffheim and Laufenberg were the only ones to concern themselves with establishing communication between the rebellious zones in northern and central Germany, and to have assumed the perspective of action on a national scale. Laufenberg’s Revolution in Hamburg is quite revealing in its depiction of the important and contradictory features of the German revolution; the democratic revolution was not merely an empty phrase. It was, above all, the reaction which was conscious of Germany as a unified State.

Once it had consolidated the counterweight to halt the revolution, social democracy had to take immediate action in order to prevent the constitution of the proletarians into a class, a process begun at the end of the war, whose first confused manifestation was the generalization of councils-soviets, but which would acquire an increasingly more precise expression in the factory councils and the increasing strength of the Spartacists and the IKD, particularly with the fusion of these two groups into the KPD.

To speak of “strategy”, of “tactics”, of “provocation”, etc., by no means implies that the motive force of this whole revolutionary movement was established by “consciousness”. Under the pressure of the social and political crisis which followed the war, social and political groups were obliged to take action in order to survive; the survival of one could only be achieved to the detriment of the other, and each group adopted, more or less consciously, the tactic which the pre-existing conditions imposed. The SPD was forced to take action against the Volksmarinedivision, and after its defeat it was compelled to sacrifice a pawn against the revolution (the expulsion of Eichhorn). In both cases, these moves provoked a reaction in the reactionary camp for whom it became obvious that the proletarians, having reached the limit of their potential, could not bring about the fall of the social democratic State. The reaction could then make its move without fearing any response.13

Except for the Ruhr insurrection (1920) and the “March Action” (1921), all the ensuing proletarian assaults would follow a relatively unchanging pattern. Born as defense against an attack by the power of capital, they went on the offensive and took power in a region or a city in Germany. The offensive was exhausted at that level and negotiations then took place, led by the USPD, the right wing tendency in the KPD and, in the beginning, even by the local leaders of the SPD, with the remnants of the local authorities or with the central power. The latter conceded everything, since they were not themselves put into question. Afterwards, the revolutionary wave receded and an implacable repression could begin.

The Founding of the KPD
The prelude to the founding of the KPD was the national conference of the IKD held on December 24 in Berlin, attended by delegates from northern Germany, Saxony, Bavaria and the Rhineland.14 A debate was held to determine whether they should form their own party or unite with Spartacus. The IKD warned the Spartacus League that in any event the Communist Party would be formed in Germany “with or without it”.15 Radek had just returned to Germany after having played a prominent role in the Commissariat of Foreign Affairs in Moscow, and convinced them to unite with Spartacus: they demanded, however, that the Spartacus League leave the USPD. On the question of parliamentary action, they were divided into two positions, one in favor of it, one against it. It was decided not to make a declaration concerning the issue until each delegate had consulted his constituents: when the meeting resumed on the 30th, only one delegate still defended participation in parliament.

After having desired to remain in the USPD, the Spartacus League placed itself “outside the organization” by taking the initiative to hold a national conference in October (see the preceding Chapter). Excluded de facto, it accepted the IKD’s position and left the USPD. A small minority (Luxemburg, Levi, and L. Jogisches) was very hesitant, since it judged that the situation was not “mature” enough for the creation of the revolutionary party. But they followed the majority. The Congress set the date when Spartacus would convoke its second national conference: December 30.

Except for certain specialized histories,16 whenever the matter of the radical movement of 1918-19 is discussed, it is the Spartacists who get the most attention. The left groups of Bremen, Dresden, etc., are generally treated as marginal organizations. History (among others, the official histories of the communist parties) uncritically appropriates the point of view of the public opinion of the era, which considered the entire radical movement to be an effect of a Spartacist conspiracy. The same phenomenon is reproduced with respect to every revolutionary movement: if there is something which public opinion (= bourgeois ideology for the general public), and along with it the various ideologies derived from Leninism, cannot admit, it is that the revolutionary masses are the authors of their own movement, that they are their own leaders, and that only in those conditions are they authentically revolutionary. In its obstinate search for culprits and “ringleaders”, the bourgeois campaign after the Commune had already fabricated the image of the IWA as the executive committee of gifted leaders who were active everywhere. This idea later penetrated the revolutionary ranks and contaminated the Marx-Bakunin debate. At a moment of revolutionary retrocession, the bourgeoisie imposed its own representation of the subversive movement itself. So it would proceed in relation to the events after 1917, particularly with Lenin and the Communist International (cf. the Introduction above).

At the founding Congress of the KPD it became evident that the overwhelming majority of the delegates, although not all of them members of the IKD, adhered to the theses of the IKD. The party would have 90,000 members in March 1919. According to F. Kool, it was formed of mostly young workers “without political experience”. According to Bock, the sociological profile of its recruits was much more varied and included workers from all layers of the proletariat. Subsequently, a consensus concerning the “lack of maturity” of the delegates to the founding Congress would become established.17 Historians and political organizations cannot admit that proletarians could “spontaneously” adopt such radical positions.

After having unanimously adopted the program which had been written by Luxemburg and had already been published on December 14 as the “Program of the Spartacus League” under the title of What Does Spartacus Want?, along with the slogans of the “Communist Party of Germany (Spartacus League)” or KPD(S), the leftist tendency crystallized around two questions, that of participation in the elections (for the constituent assembly) and that of working in the trade unions.

The Congress held a debate on the question of organization, but for the most part opposed centralism. Workers autonomy, if not workerism, occupied a preferential place in the Congress. Eberlein declared:18 “The organizations of the old SPD, except for periodic elections, were inert and empty. . . . We must construct our organization on totally different foundations. We demand that the workers and soldiers councils exercise all political power. The factory councils are the basis of power. Our organization must be adapted to this situation. It would then be best, probably, to create communist groups in the factories. It cannot be tolerated that orders should be imposed from above. The industrial organizations must enjoy complete autonomy. The task of the central organ is above all that of synthesizing the movements which develop outside of it and assuring political and ideological leadership.” Each organization must have full autonomy of action; the central office has a minimal political role: information clearing house, preparation of congresses and managing day-to-day business. Above all it was not to be a revolutionary general staff for all of Germany. The representatives of the party’s minority faction were elected to leadership positions: Luxemburg, Liebknecht, Jogisches, Levi. The only “leftist” among the party’s leaders, Frölich, was dispatched to Bavaria. The KPD would not adopt Bolshevik centralism as a “principle” of organization until its third Congress (October 1920), after having excluded the left, which would denounce the centralism-federalism alternative as false and argue that it had been superseded by the “union” (cf. the texts of the KAPD and the AAU):19 this was the beginning of the critique of organizational fetishism.

Participation in the elections was rejected by 62 votes against 23; among the latter, Liebknecht declared that he had only reluctantly voted “in favor”.20 Knief, on the other hand, of the Bremen IKD, was a supporter of revolutionary parliamentarism. The 62 votes represented the IKD and the party’s “rank and file”.

Luxemburg reproached the abstentionists for “transforming radicalism (which in German is synonymous with ‘leftism’) into something quite comfortable”. A more “useful” tactic was needed, Levi explained in his report, which would consist in participating in the elections in order to destroy parliamentarism. Rühle presented the opposition’s report. The majority of those “lacking in political experience” did not want to hear any nonsense about classical politics, and their hostile shouts often interrupted the speeches of Luxemburg and Levi.

It was crucial for its current and future activities that the KPD Congress should affirm that the party should work for the destruction of the trade unions and call upon all of its members to leave them: such was the opinion of the abstentionist majority. On behalf of the left, Frölich (Bremen) expounded the obligation to end the old separation between political organization (party) and economic organization (trade union): the theme of unitary organization already broached in 1917 in Arbeiterpolitik and which would be championed by Rühle and the AAU-E. Luxemburg and the rest of the party minority did not directly address this issue: it was only after the revolution that the trade unions, they said, could be replaced in their economic role by the councils. Luxemburg managed to have this question tabled and referred to a committee and consequently it was not the subject of a party resolution. Opposition to the trade unions was by no means assured, since it was largely based on a preference for the councils, and it was already known that the latter were, in their great majority, reformist.21

The radicalism displayed by the Congress was one reason why the RO refused to join the KPD. Under Däumig’s leadership, they formed a “Community of Labor” and in 1922 returned to the rump USPD (that is, what was left of it after the departure, in 1920, of its left wing for the KPD; cf. Chapter 13), which soon rejoined the SPD. A minority chose to remain outside of the SPD and the KPD and preserved the name USPD, which later split in its turn into two groups in 1923, which would join the SAP (another centrist party) in 1931. The ex-USPD members who returned to the SPD in 1922 preserved certain characteristically “leftist” positions: hostile to national coalitions of the socialist party with the bourgeois parties, in 1923 they initiated the abortive experience of the “workers government” in Saxony.22

Luxemburg’s maneuver regarding the trade union question and the fact that the party minority was elected to the party’s leadership positions demonstrated a certain inexperience or incompetence in political affairs on the part of the KPD majority: this would be further confirmed when, in October 1919, the minority managed to exclude the majority. The German Left would be constituted and would distinguish itself in opposition to Spartacism, in the course of which it would experience more difficulties than in other aspects of its break with its social democratic past.23 But if there is a clear difference between “Spartacism” and the “German Left”, neither the one nor the other had become petrified in 1919. Had proletarian action followed an ascending course, which did not happen, profound analyses would have been possible. It is just as impossible to draw a hard and fast line between the two currents, as the golden legend of Spartacism is false. The KPD Congress was divided over “the question of the ‘unitary’ organization defended by ISD elements . . . and the ‘leader-masses’ problem, which in addition to garnering the support of the above mentioned ‘radicals’ also had sympathizers among the Spartacists, who had defended these positions—although in a somewhat vague manner—when they had constituted the ‘International’ fraction of the USPD”.24 It would be the left, however, which would be consolidated during the course of the struggles of 1919, and its divergences with the KPD’s right wing would become so profound that they would lead to a split.

The Spartacist leaders proved to be incapable of breaking with social democracy and its methods. One of the errors of the left was that of not criticizing the party program itself. According to What Does Spartacus Want?, a revolution had taken place: its first phase (up to December 24) had been “exclusively political”; from that point forward, it had to be oriented towards what was essential: towards the field of the economy.25

“The conquest of power cannot be accomplished at one blow, but must be incremental: we shall introduce ourselves into the bourgeois State until we occupy all of its posts and defend them against all external attacks. . . . It is a step-by-step, hand-to-hand struggle, in each State, in each city, in each village, in order to put all the instruments of power into the hands of the workers and soldiers councils, instruments which must slowly be torn from the grasp of the bourgeoisie. While achieving this goal we must, first of all, educate our comrades. . . .”

It serves no purpose to insist on those aspects which separate Marx (concerning which Pannekoek and, later, Lenin, would write at length) from this “incremental” conquest of the capitalist State by a proletariat which “introduces itself” into that State. It is the same kind of absence of a rupture as is found in the Kautskyism of The Road to Power. Luxemburg’s contradiction, like that of so many others, was that of effectively being a revolutionary, and not only in words, but without acquiring the means to really be a revolutionary. Her originality resides in the method chosen for her purpose: it is always a question of teaching and educating, but by means of action and not classical pedagogy. The fear of a failed putsch caused Luxemburg to renounce proposing a centralized struggle: “It is among the rank and file, where each factory owner confronts his wage slaves, where we must uproot the instruments of power, little by little, from the rulers.”

Luxemburg did not understand that even though the class struggle is especially fluid and mobile, it also crystallizes into organizations, both revolutionary and reactionary.26 Hence her refusal to create an independent organization. Her reasoning in relation to the State born in November 1918 was like her reasoning concerning the SPD and the USPD. Conceiving of social life primarily as movement, she neglected the moments of rupture. She rejected a frontal assault on the November State (as she had previously rejected an attack on the SPD) because the workers occupied a considerable position within it and could influence its further development. Of course, if there is no rupture, a destruction of the institutional forms which originated in the old phase of stability, the movement would still be a movement internal to capitalism, and would even help capitalism to adapt to the new conditions. Capitalism only assumes the appearances of the revolution in order to modernize itself: as Marx said about the democrats, they recruit the revolution to their side. A few weeks later, the same kind of reasoning would lead Luxemburg to suicide due to her desire to “stand with” the masses, to be present within the proletarian movement. The same attitude of wanting to stay close to the masses caused her to remain in the SPD, and later, to remain in the USPD, and then even later to opt for the insurrectionary adventure.

  • 1 La question syndicale et la gauche allemande…., p. 6.
  • 2 Conseils ouvriers en Allemagne 1917-21, pp. 158-166.
  • 3 Comfort, Chapter III; cf. also P. von Oertzen, Die Betriebsräte in der November Revolution, Düsseldorf, 1963.
  • 4 A. Mitchell: Revolution in Bavaria 1918-19, Princeton University Press, 1965, p. 149.
  • 5 La question syndicale…., p. 58, note no. 6.
  • 6 Berlau: pp. 345-346.
  • 7 Three Years of World Revolution, Constable, London, 1918, pp. 202-217.
  • 8 Le Phare, March 1920.
  • 9 Bulletin communiste, June 3 1920, “La révolution universelle”, cf. also Rühle, From the Bourgeois to the Communist Revolution, Socialist Reproduction, London, 1974, with a good introduction; and L. Valiani, Histoire du socialisme au XXe siècle, Nagel, 1948, pp. 115-116.
  • 10 Statement attributed to Scheidemann, quoted in Badia.
  • 11 K. Shell: The Transformation of Austrian Socialism, State University of New York, 1962.
  • 12 PC, No. 61, p. 37 et seq., and No. 64, p. 77 et seq.
  • 13 Concerning “historical coercion”—which is not synonymous with automatism—cf. La Sainte Famille, Ed. Sociales, 1969, pp.47-48. In English, The Holy Family, or Critique of Critical Criticism, Progress Publishers, Moscow, 1980.
  • 14 Waldman: p. 150, No. 92.
  • 15 R. Lowenthal, The Bolshevisation of the Spartakus League, in St. Anthony’s Papers, No. 9, Chatto-Windus, London, 1960, p. 26.
  • 16 Bock and Kool, in particular.
  • 17 Among others, Badia, in Le spartakisme, conclusion; Waldman, p. 152, note no. 96; and Lowenthal, p. 27.
  • 18 Waldman: pp. 155-156.
  • 19 Cf. La gauche allemande. Textes.
  • 20 Bock: p. 95.
  • 21 Cf. Lange’s report: Waldman, pp. 153-154.
  • 22 Hunt: pp. 206-207 and 210, et seq.
  • 23 PC, No. 58, pp. 91-115, concerning Spartacism and pp. 100-101 for the IKD.
  • 24 La question syndicale…., p. 5.
  • 25 Luxemburg: Oeuvres, Maspero, Vol. II, 1969, pp. 126-128.
  • 26 R. Paris: Introduction to La révolution russe, Maspero, 1964.