The Daily Worker Newspaper, August 30, 1924, Page 16

ee ee eee Tat \ HAT I am going to say in this article will sound perhaps a lit- tle too elementary. It may even -ap- pear as a re-statement of some of the ABC of Communism. But, then, why not? The elements of Communism are its fundamentals, its basic prin- ciples and final aims. And if there ts ever a time when Communists must have their eyes fixed steadily on their final aims, it is the time when they are engaged in immediate, so-called practical activities. One might lay down (Lenin did that a number of times) the following tac- tical directive: The more immediate and practical our tasks the more ur- gent is the need for keeping before our eyes’the final aim of Communism. Why? Because our immediate activi- ties, our struggles for partial demands of the workers, assume a revolution- ary character only inasmuch as they are conducted with a view to our final aims. In other words, a policy is cor- rect only if it prepares the workers and our own party for the last strug- gle for power. And it is from this angle that I am going to discuss po- litical action and the present presi- dential campaign. Do We Accept Capitalist Democracy? By participating in an election cam- paign, do we or do we not recognize and accept capitalist democracy? Such questions are still being asked and they have got to be answered The people that ask such questions are, as a rule, workingmen, former members of political parties, who have become disillusioned and even disgusted with political parties and — as a whole. They say: Politics is the game of the bourgeoisie. The latter, thru its press, pulpit, schools, theaters, movies, etc., is assidiously cultivating in the minds of the masses the belief in politics as the only legitimate means for the adjustment of “social griev- ances.” But the rules of the political game have been made by the bour- geoisie and no matter how well the workers may play this game, they are always bound to lose. Thus runs the argument against politics and’ political action. It can all be reduced to the single idea that by participating in politics one ac- cepts the existing political order of the bourgeoisie. Is it really so? Well, there are all kinds of politics; that is, there are many ways in which the American workers of today parti- cipate in politics, There are working- men and women who take part in politics thru the Republican and Demo- cratic parties. This is one kind of politics about which there cannot be the least doubt that it is a game played in the interests of the capital- ists and against the workers. This sort of politics is no good and the ticipate in politics as union men, as members of labor organizations. This is already a better sort of politics, better, that is, than participating in politics thru the political parties of the capitalists. However, it all de- pends upon how the thing is being | done. Here, for instance, is Gompers. He stands for the idea that organized la- bor must participate in politics for the purpose of punishing its friends and rewarding its enemies. Which sounds pretty nice. It looks almost as if Gompers favors the participation of labor in politics for the purpose of promoting the interests of labor. But it isn’t so. Gompers has no con- cern with labor as a class. Gompers rejects the class-struggle. He opposes the formation of a political party of labor or any other action that would lead to a struggle between capital and labor along class lines. Gompers’ po- litics are just as bad (if not worse) as those of the democratic and repub- lican politicians, He who follows the lead of Gompers is following the lead of the capitalists. Then there is the C. P. P. A., whose politics is practically the same as sooner the workers break with it the : better. saturates the human pores. Thén there are workers that par- trates the skin and forms a thick Gompers’ except that the former was the first to unite with ‘the middle classes thru LaFollette in the coming presidential elections. Large numbers of workers Will be taking part in poli- tics thru the C. P. P. A. and the La- Follette movement. Which, of course, does not alter the fact that the politics of the C. P. P. A. is petty-bourgeoisie politics, substantially of a capitalist nature, which means bad politics for the working class. Now, to return to the argument against politics in general, one might safely say this: If there were no other kinds of politics possible for the workers to engage in but the ones outlined above, one wovld be compel- led to conclude that there is no way in which the workers can with profit to themselves engage in political ac- tien. Which would mean nothing more nor less than accepting the idea that the class struggle is impossible. The Class Struggle Is a Political Struggle. This is A B C, therefore, it must be taken as our starting point. He who accepts the class struggle for the abolition of capitalism, must also ac- cept the idea of political action. Why? Because you cannot start abolishing capitalism before you have destroyed the ruling power of the bourgeoisie and established in its place the ruling power of the working class. Therefore, the aims of the class struggle becomes the seizure of po- litical power by the working class and the establishment of the proletarian dictatorship. In other words, the class struggle is a struggle for politica] A Communist View of Political Action power by the oppressed class against the ruling class. Now, if this is true, then it follows that to deny the political struggle is the same thing as denying the class struggle. For there can be no class struggle, no real struggle against cap- italism, other than a struggle against the capitalist state, against. the rule of the bourgeoisie and for the rule of the working class. Political Struggle and Election Campaigns. This much. will undoubtedly be ac cepted as true by every member of the working class who hates capital- ism and believes in the Social Revolu- tion. The argument that may be made will be directed not against the politi- cal struggle but against the participa- tion in election campaigns, the main argument being this: You cannot abolish capitalism by means of the ballot box. Perfectly correct. Capitalism will be abolished only after the machinery of the capitalist state has been totally destroyed and a_ proletarian state erected in its place. But what of it? Merely this that the workers must be educated, organized and trained for the great battles that will result in the seizure of power by the workers. How? By utilizing every possible op- portunity for unmasking the sham of capitalist democracy, for winning the masses over to the cause of Com- munism, and for organizing the ad- vanced sections of the working class into the ranks of the Communist Party. The only question to be considered is: Do election campaigns offer op- By Alexander Bittelman portunities for this kind of work? We say, yes. In time of election cam- paigns the masses are more interested in politics than at any other time, which means that they will listen to us more readily and intently than they might otherwise. And further. are political campaigns. . Election campaigns This is true in the sensg that various groups and - classes enter the open field of strug- gle to secure political power for the promotion of their respective inter- ests. Because of this fact, -election campaigns offer, as a rule, a very ef- fective means for showing the work- ers the class-nature of capitalism and the workings of its ruling machinery. In short, we participate in election campaigns for the purpose of develop- ing the classconsciousness of the work- ers, organizing them into a political party of their own, and training them for direct political struggles against the capitalist state. For us the political struggle is a much bigger thing than election cam- paigns. The latter we consider merely one of the phases and forms of the political struggle of the workers. We know that the day will come when the center of gravity of the political strug: gle will lie not inside but outside of the organs of the capitalist state. And for this day we have got to pre- pare. But we also say this: that when we participate as Communists in election campaigns we are thereby building the armygand preparing the weapons for the last mighty struggle for power that ‘will overthrow capitalism and establish the rule of the working class. Pittsburgh — The Black City By JOHN LASSEN. T is late Saturday afternoon as I arrive hére from Cleveland. How black this city is! I alight from the train and find myself confronted by a gigantic mountain. Twenty paces away from the teem- ing, colorful streets tall smoke stacks rear their heads heavenward, vomit- ing dense clouds of smoke. I proceed. Swarms of workmen wend their way homeward. Black are the faces, hands and clothes of these people of the black city. * * * I see a sign: Public Bath. I am heading in its direction. It is Satur- day afternoon.. These black people are eager to be clean in the black city. We stand in long queues. When will my turn come? At last, I am next. My number is called out. I take the shower. The hot water is giving out. People be- hind the shower railings are shout- ing: “Hot Water! Hot Water!” But it seems so futile. The dirt It pene- crust. Neither hot watér nor soap ean do anything with it. simply turn black. “Hurry up!” calls the colored at- tendant. There are many more peo- ple in line. People By the time I reach the street again it is pitch dark. Deep shadows fall over the streets. Darkly and grimly frowns the mountainside upon the city. Then, lo, I behold a long moving streak along the highway. A long white streak in the intense blackness. My eyes keep on staring. It is along white streak creeping on and on. They look like white clouds. A blotch of white in the great blackness. It is the Ku Klux Klan. A fiery cross will blaze atop the mountain height. ss 6s @ I cross a trestle, the black soot fairly crackling under my feet. Even the earth crackles. My heart is pal- pitating. I wonder what is in store for me in this black city? I recall a debate I had with a fellow worker in Cleveland, He has been in America sixteen years but speaks English very encrisihastatiatitate wae ios. tui 4 brokenly. “How does it come you know so lit- tle English?” I had ventured to ask him. “'Cause"I am a Magyar.” “Surely you don’t intend returning to Horthy’s Hungary?” “Of course not. . . . but I don’t like English, and I don’t like the Am- ericans,.” “And. why not? you?” “I just don’t like them ‘cause they don’t like me.” “That isn’t so. Why, there is no one more tolerant than an American. So far I have received nothing but kindness from them.” He shook his head skeptic- Did anyone hurt ally. Is it possible that he ‘was right? And is there nothing but soot and filth in this city. . . . and the Ku Klux Klan? Can this be the real America? bed see I wander down to the river bank. I sit down and gaze at the strange, mysterious city. It is*twilight. Giant smoke clouds seem to smother the city in mist. The air grows moist. Directly behind me the smoke stack of the Schonberger Works pour out their black hearts. I sit at the edge of the water. Presently a lad—certainly not over 18—approaches. He sits down beside me. We sit in silence for a while, mutely gazing at the rushing stream. Suddenly’ he speaks, nodding his head toward the mill: “Are you on the night shift?” “No. I just landed in town and don’t expect to look for anything be- fore the day after tomorrow. But I may take a temporary job tomorrow.” “Have you been long in this coun- try?” “Only fourteen months.” “Oh, that’ll make it hard. for you.” I ask him where he works and what sort of work he does. He, in turn, inquires about life in the ‘old country,’ and is greatly as- tonished when I tell him that over there people figure in billions and that misery is far more rampant than here, © He wears a black working suit. His hands are rough from the soot; his for little pay. “But such is life,” he adds philosophically. The sun is having a glorious bat- tle with the oncoming night, coal dust and the fog. Its gory disc is weirdly reflected in the river’s mirror and for a while lends a crimson hue to the overwhelming blackness. “T’ve got to get back,” says the boy, thrusting his hands into black pock- ets. “Where are you going to put up for the night. “Oh, I'll manage somehow.” “Too bad you can’t stay with me. I'd like to have you. There are two of us in one bed already. . . . But here”. . . . and he began fumbling in his pockets . take this. Sorry that I can’t give you more. He holds out a crumpled dollar bill © to me. The sun has vanished. The blackness is deeper than ever. But the heart of this lad seems to shine far into the black night. “But I don’t need it,” I protest. “I have more than enuf to pay for sleep- ing quarters.” He is equally insistent. “You must accept it. I’m happy to let you have at.” And seeing my stubborn remon- strance, he forcibly sticks the dollar into my pocket and scrambles to his feet, saying: “You'll repay it some day: If not to me, to some one else.” The lad is trudging across the hill, back to his toil in the mill. On all sides blazing electric signs proclaim the triumph of publicity. The power’ of words defies the hea- ven. “Westinghouse Electric Co.” “Heinz Pickles” and, deep in the heart of the city, the*“William Penn Hotel” tell their respective tales in the air .». While I make no effort to stem the flow of tears. . . . in the black city. Ye wearer’ of the bat awake! No longer be it The a — your labor, TAKE! ; long ae slaves, you've toiled! Ye works 's of the igs 4 a must rast NEVER YIELD! NEGF Nos POSSESS ALL face, too, is saturated with coal dust He tells me that he works ten hours a day as watchman. He works hard . B McFADDEN: ” oe catia ih. errr areoeranenemrssevnaeeqeannnennnesnnenee