The further question Josh raises of the importance of the status of the leader of a revolutionary movement is very appealing to me and reminds me of other cases of revolutionary leaders we have analyzed, such as the Baader Meinhof case. We often see the visionaries of the revolutionary movements rise to leadership positions within the movements. Thus, as we’ve seen within the Baader Meinhof case, the most radical members of a movement end up leading the movement, which leaves the movement susceptible to becoming much more extreme than what the initial supporters are willing to stand for and brings up the worry that the movement will lose the support that it once had behind it, the further it progresses. On the other hand, if the leader of a movement lessens their radical aims in order to create soft change, they face the issue of potentially losing support because they’ve become “institutionalised” and no longer represent the needs of the people, as MLK has been criticized for in the later parts of the Civil Rights movement by followers who left to support the actions of SNCC, Malcolm X, or the Black Panthers instead. In a lot of ways, the radicality of a leader is important in preserving the fire behind a revolution and keeping the support alive, so it is a difficult reputation to abandon. This brings into question the durability of a campaign led by a highly radical leader, as with Allende, when the exceptional radical opinions of the leader necessarily imply that they don’t represent the more moderate views of the masses behind the rebellion. Therefore, does a “revolutionary” leader need to concede their vision in order to maintain support and have any hope for achieving moderate change, or in giving up their revolutionary status do they also risk losing the original supporters that brought them to their leadership positions? It seems like a lose-lose situation for creating distinct revolutionary change unless a revolutionary leader is willing to (and somehow has the support to) use their minority of radical support to ignore the claims of the masses to further their vision. Otherwise, as Jake and Josh pointed out, maybe gradual, institutionalized change is what’s necessary, though it may come at the cost of losing their original supporters.
Radicals in a Democratic Society
Partially in response to Professor Malekzadeh’s post,
Part of the question Professor Malekzadeh describes is simply that the democratic reforms enacted by Allende were too moderate. But moderate compared to what? Election results show that Allende’s reforms were roughly in the center of Chilean political thought, and, therefore, from a political theory perspective, Allende was acting approximately how he should be in a Democatic society. To engage in immediate radical communist reforms would be to violate the will of the people.
Is the problem that we haven’t seen Communist reforms accomplished through Democratic means elsewhere? We talk a lot in class about how small a percent of a population it takes to enact a revolution. Communism is, after all, an inherently radical ideology. It seems likely that we cannot ever find a situation where a majority of the electorate would support (the same) radical reforms.
Part of the problem here is that Democracy, especially, by design, constitutional Democracies, are designed to be inherently moderate methods of enacting change, while Revolutions are of course inherently radical. It seems possible that Democracy can very rarely successfully enact a radical policy such as Communism.
Of course there is also a conflict between a hypothetical communist state and the present institutions in a Democratic society. Part of communist ideology is the focus on Communism as an “End of History”. To continue operating Democratically, Allende would have had to not only run continual elections but also to prepare for the eventuality that a communist regime might leave power, and to preserve institutions accordingly. It’s possible that this is simply incompatible with Communism.
Cuba and Chile
I find it difficult to compare the Cuban case to that of Chile given the different circumstances that existed within the two nations. I do think, however, that the varying circumstances that each country faced, ultimately influenced the level of success that each country could experience. In Cuba the revolution was consistently viewed as a movement that would fail, allowing the movement to grow and become successful before there was more complete intervention by the more conservative forces within Cuba. Additionally the revolutonary forces seperation from the urban areas and isolation within the Cuban mountains, prevented the government from being able to fully destroy the Cuban revolutionary forces. The slow, stated, non-violent strategy of the Allende government can be argued presented the neccessary circumstances for the revolution to fail. That’s not to say that it was the cause for its failure, but the conservative forces were given time to respond and the exposure of Allende and his supporters allowed for the military to intervene in a way that was successful in deposing Allende and his supporters from power. Therefore while the response by the military to Allende’s program was not guaranteed, he left his movement extremely vulnerable by not arming a wing of its supporters and being slow to enact any of his proposed reforms.
Tactical “Strategery”
For me, it is hard to dissociate Allende’s tactics, strategy, and faith in liberal democracy from the political context around him. I agree with Jake that violent struggle to bring about change in Chile would have been unwise. With a considerably stable history of democracy throughout the twentieth century and with demands that did not outright require the overthrow of government, violent struggle would have destabilized the state, antagonized a military class already predisposed to be against Allende’s goals, and–most importantly–would have left Allende with the task of rebuilding a state alongside implementing reforms that, based off of electoral results, were not ubiquitously desired.
With a military campaign that appears, at least on its face, doomed, how might have Allende better implemented his policy? As had been stated countless times throughout class and the readings, Allende had little effective control over his military even before the coup. Despotism thus would seem out of the question since the best apparatus for authoritatively controlling state was not under his direct control. Gradualism provides an alternative; though just as Jake noted as well, such a strategy might have “stripped Allende of his revolutionary status.” This prompts me to ask, why do we care about such status? Throughout case studies this semester, we as a class have come across countless individuals and actors whose revolutionary desires superseded the development of an effectual avenues for redress. The lack of ideological coherence amongst the various leaders of Haiti’s revolution has in part left Haitians with an ineffective state. Mao, Lenin, and Stalin all saw the needs to build the state and its economic, political, and social capacities before they could realistically implement socialist reform. To me, this question boils down to a cost benefit analysis of liberal democracy against some form of more authoritarian socialism. Rooted in gradualism and public participation, liberal democracy may be a tenuous and slow route; however, smashing states and rebuilding them to the liking of a cohort of revolutionary individuals elicits way more fear from me.
The Utopian Accusation
I will focus my response continuing the discussion on the relationship between strategy and tactics, in regards to Allende and otherwise.
In the revolutions we have studied, it seems as though practical considerations often induce tension into the relationship between tactics and strategy. Generally, a revolutionary force begins as a small fraction of a population without the capacity to unilaterally implement its strategy. In some cases, the violent power of these small groups grows without compromise to the point that they can overthrow the state and implement their original strategy, but I would say these cases are rare. In many violent revolutions, original groups often employ tactics to increase broader support or create bridges in revolutionary groups that involve making concessions and in some ways changing their broader objective (read: strategy). In nonviolent revolutions, these concessions are even more common as the revolutionary force has to win over an even larger section of the population through its ideas.
This brings us to Allende. As was highlighted in his discourse with Debray, The concern of conciliation and ultimate obscuring of the original strategy is of high concern of many Marxists looking for their conception of a total revolution. The reliance on electoral means almost necessitates this kind of bargaining, unless the electoral population is unilaterally behind your cause and can champion it democratically. To some extent, Allende tries to claim that this is actually true in his case as all of his powers and leanings are ostensibly derived from the workers (although he contradicts himself later by postulating that they may need guidance). In reality, I think these concerns are valid, and in reality, Allende did end up becoming pulled into more center through participation in the electoral system, having to negotiate with other branches of government not under his control.
I think a salient argument aside from whether this shift to the center happened or not or is endemic of non-violent electoral participation is whether this shift is an inherently negative one. To push a strategy that is not supported democratically does not seem to be an adequate end goal of a revolution. The main issue, of course, is that often times electoral politics is simply not democratic, and popular ideas are not manifested in executives and legislatures. In the American left movement, this is one of the most widely debated issues. To some, participation in the current political system necessitates operating under certain assumptions and making certain concessions to mainstream Democrat values that some are unwilling to make (the necessity of these concessions are only exacerbated by the first-past-the-post electoral system and the active role the DNC plays in selecting centrist primary candidates). The other wing of the left who like to view themselves as more pragmatic often accuses the more uncompromising side as indulging in a kind of utopian fantasy (to perhaps put it a bit harshly). They choose to highlight the fact that given the relative strength of American democracy, it seems incredibly difficult to influence the state in meaningful extra-electoral ways. In my mind, the kind of non-violent, electoral focused work presents the most effective single path to take in a functioning democracy with a powerful state. Despite accusations of incrementalism from my revolutionary-minded comrades, I still see the current tactic of conciliation as a smaller step to more meaningful strategy of left-wing reform.
Gramscian Allende
Throughout Debray’s interview with Allende it was made clear that he questioned the legitimacy of Allende’s strategy, especially as an “revolutionary” within the institutional framework. I found Allende’s ideals very Gramscian. Similar to critiques that we’ve discussed on Gramsci, Allende’s tactics, in the same way worked within the framework of hegemony in order to create counter hegemony. Though this revolutionary process is unique, can we consider the idea of a counter hegemony to actually be revolutionary in nature? Using civil society as the most powerful tool in creating consensus and capturing the state, like Gramsci, Allende’s tactics are restricted to the confines of the established institutions. But at what point do we consider Allende’s methods to be reform rather than revolution? Though Allende claims revolution is simply, “the transfer of power from a minority class to a majority class,” it is hard to call methods which derive within the framework of the oppressive powers very revolutionary at all. First, As Debray questions Allende, “Don’t you feel that you are gradually becoming institutionalized?” And then As Debray claims, “it has acted within the established institutional framework, and it can therefore be said that what there has been to date is reform.”
However, I’m hardly convinced that democracy was part of Allende’s long term plans. As he responds, “I believe we have used those which open the road to revolution…All the measures we have adopted are measures which lead to the revolution.” In this way, I think that Allende didn’t exactly care about democracy or even creating a democratic popular Government but rather he was interested in utilizing the democratic process as a stepping stone in which to open the door, unlock the gate to a revolution and eventual socialism. Sure Allende may have been attracted to the allure of being revolutionary by unique, peaceful, and democratic tactics, but how much revolutionary change could he have expected to create working within the same institutional framework as his opposition?
Slow And Steady Wins The Race
The case study of Chile serves as an interesting example of whether or not the implementation of a Marxism is possible through democratic means. In the case of Chile, it would have been unwise to attempt to bring about transformative change through the use of violence. Additionally, if the result of Allende’s election was any indicator, the majority of Chileans were against such radical change. Despite this, to advocate for the stance that violence should have been employed as a tactic for crushing Allende’s opposition, ignores the fact that war would have simply precipitated a swift and overwhelming reaction from the Chilean military. A government is only as strong as its ability to actually enforce its agenda. Without ever maintaining control of the military, or maintaining a majority of society to signal greater legitimacy, the implementation of a radically transformative Marxist agenda seemed destined to fail. It seems to me that Allende was simply too radical for his time, and that Chile was simply not ready for the Marxist agenda that Allende was propagating.
Without the military’s backing, or the majority of society’s support, what could Allende have done after getting elected? A frontal assault on Chiles military would have been fatal, yet history has shown that Allende’s strategy of utilizing an institutional approach had failed as well. Perhaps the solution should have been to actually move slower and more gradually. Of course, this would have stripped Allende of his revolutionary status, but in my estimation, it is better to do some good, moving slowly in the right direction, instead of attempting to move too fast, and getting ousted. In Allende’s own words, “Socialism cannot be imposed by decree”. Since the majority of Chileans did not want socialism, maybe Allende should have exercised more caution in his approach.
Written by Sherv’s Fave
I do think the veracity of Ché’s claim is fairly high. No one who is sane just seeks out violence. However, in order to get the thing that they want—in this case, a revolutionary moment—violence may be the only means in which to achieve that goal; nonetheless, if it proves to be possible to reach the same end without putting people in danger then that will always be the route most preferred. Whether a movement is a violent one or not hinges mainly on the reactionary forces—those who are attempting to remain in power. Once they deem it necessary to use violence in order to suppress activism, a whole new can of worms has been opened.
Like an animal backed into a corner, the revolutionary coalition will be free to fire back—usually harder and with much more reckless abandon. As Goodwin would point out, this reversion to violence by the hegemonic group could also prove to be detrimental by the simple fact that the perceived injustice done upon the revolutionary forces will bolster more support from the masses. In this way, violence would serve not to repress the troublesome rebels, but actually to empower them and give them even more numbers.
Interestingly enough, the revolutionary leaders need the masses just as much—if not more— than the masses need them. Without the prospect of mobilization, or simply the means to stage any sort of effective demonstration, an entire movement can go up in flames. Having said that, it is imperative that once the masses are acquired, they be led stage by stage in order to ensure that the correct steps are being taken to give the group the best chance at a favorable result. This can be a slippery slope, as the responsibility (and power) that comes with leading such a large group can lead to bigheadedness and even an eventual tyrannical pursuit of authority. This is what Ché, Allende, and even Baader—any movement leader really—must contend with and learn to balance.
The Cases of Chile & Egypt
While reading about and discussing the case of Chile’s revolution, I repeatedly drew connections to Egypt’s experience during the Arab Spring uprisings. To be fair, there are distinctive differences between Egypt and Chile’s experiences and contexts, but I think the comparison still merits attention: two revolutionary forces (socialist in Chile and Islamist in Egypt) sought to transform each country peacefully and through democratic channels, only to be ousted quickly through coups d’état of the military, which then retained control of political society in a harsh, repressive way.
In the case of Egypt, the political tumult that ensued during the brief Muslim Brotherhood presidency under Morsi was not a right backlash against the left, but rather a left backlash against the right. Further, Egypt was not democratic in any real sense of the word (yes, there were multi-party elections in 2005 under Mubarak, but there was never any question that Mubarak would win the presidential election by a landslide.), but rather an authoritarian regime in which the military occupied a privileged position politically and socioeconomically. Egypt attempted to transition to democracy after the overthrow of Mubarak in 2011, which ushered in the Muslim Brotherhood through the country’s first largely free and fair election. However, the Muslim Brotherhood, as a socially conservative Islamist organization, sought to transform Egyptian society and the political system into an Islamic republic with Shari’a Law as the supreme law of the land. For a country which had been staunchly secular, this would be a radical overhaul of the political and social organization of the country, particularly considering that Egypt also has a sizeable (though still minority) Christian population. While these differences are numerable, the following should hopefully clarify the similarities that exist between the Chilean and Egyptian experiences.
In Egypt, after the overthrow of Mubarak through largely peaceful demonstrations, the largest of which occurred in Tahrir Square in Cairo, the military ushered in a transitional government that set the stage for the presidential and parliamentary elections of late 2011-early 2012. As in Chile, in which a coalescence of perceived economic exasperation, political frustration of several segments of the middle and lower classes (in Egypt, worker unions favored the Muslim Brotherhood), and a desire for transformative change, enabled for a more extremist party to gain power, Egypt elected the right-wing Muslim Brotherhood into office. However, it quickly became apparent that the Muslim Brotherhood, like Allende’s Unidad Popular, sought to transform political society in ways inimical to key, powerful segments of the population – namely, the sociopolitical elites of Egypt and Chile (in Egypt, this was wealthy businessmen and others connected to Mubarak’s inner circle and/or the military-police apparatus). Similarly to Allende, the Muslim Brotherhood under Morsi was never able to capture and gain control over, or at the least, some form of cooperative relationship with these key segments of society. As a result, in aiming to push through revolutionary initiatives and programs through democratic channels (i.e. the legislature, executive branch, judiciary), Morsi and his party members in power found it very difficult to do so, facing stiff resistance internally within the legislature and through non-compliance of the judiciary, military, and police apparatuses from even more extreme right-wing groups (Salafi Jihadi Movement) and from left-wing groups (Strong Egypt Party, The Social Democratic Party, etc) and externally from other countries, especially the U.S.. Nonetheless, Morsi and his allies hurriedly drafted a new constitution that was put to a referendum, which while showing that roughly 2/3 of those who voted were in favor of the new constitution, such numbers far overestimated the popular support it received, for many opposition groups advocated for and carried out a boycott of the referendum vote. The new constitution was hailed by critics as either to Islamist and to favorable to the Muslim Brotherhood on the left, while on the right, the Salafis believed it was not extreme enough. Regardless, the approval and institutionalization of the new constitution is largely viewed in retrospect as the final straw that ushered in the military coup d’état led by Al-Sisi (who was a key player in the transitional military government post-Mubarak and pre-Morsi) coupled with the inability of Morsi’s government to resolve economic issues, security problems (the military and police did not cooperate with Morsi), energy shortages, and the breakdown of Egypt’s short-lived democratic experiment (increasingly violent protests by and clashes between supporters and opponents continued throughout Morsi’s presidency and played a role in the government’s relative paralysis), though such crises and government deficiencies were in part a result of the internal and external opposition Morsi faced. As a result, just over a year after Morsi’s election, the Egyptian military, who had the most to lose with Morsi’s ascendancy, led a coalition of opposition forces to arrest Morsi and many of his supporters and to suspend the newly implemented Constitution.
In the wake of Al-Sisi’s coup, which the U.S. refused to denote as such, but rather viewed favorably, Al-Sisi and his coup supporters ushered in a period of repressive military rule under which human rights abuses have increased dramatically, the economic situation has deteriorated further, the nation has been in a quasi-permanent state of emergency, and civil society has been severely debilitated. Al-Sisi, like Pinochet, created a military dictatorship which, at least as of right now, does not seem to be reinstating democratic principles, though like Pinochet, developed and instituted its own constitution. Instead, there are many concerns that Al-Sisi will continue to consolidate his rule and return to the Mubarak-era practice of “president for life.”
To highlight the similarities more concisely:
1. Both revolutions attempted to bring about revolution through non-extralegal, democratic channels.
2. Both revolutionary governments came into power relatively peacefully.
3. Both faced severe opposition internally (from opponents to and extremists within their respective parties) and externally (from the U.S. and other countries).
4. Both faced demonstrations and protests that became increasingly violent in support of and in opposition to the revolutionary government in power.
5. Both governments faced increasing resistance to their revolutionary movement by key, previously very powerful segments of the elite (and increasingly over time, previous marginal supporters – lower-middle class workers unions in particular) as the government further implemented its revolutionary program.
6. Both governments were overthrown by the military as demonstrations by the opposition groups intensified to a maximum.
7. Both military coups ushered in periods of repressive military dictatorships that did not seek to reinstate democracy, but suspend it in favor of consolidating further power for themselves.
In this way, though there are differences in the dynamics and characterizations of the forces involved in the political tumult and in the cultural, political, and historical contexts of the two countries, both revolutions through democratic means failed to achieve revolutionary transformation, but instead resulted in military coups d’état that overturned steps taken to fulfill the respective revolutionary aspirations. The questions that arise, then, is whether revolution is a) possible through democratic means and b) if it is, does it require, as Milliband and Débray seem to believe, a total smashing of the state once the revolutionary group is in power?
“For Allende, who is trying to obtain the same results by other means
I think it was pretty clear that I was most fascinated by this question of “strategy or tactic,” and whether or not at some point the two become confused, both conceptually and in practice. Debray repeatedly calls Allende’s tactic into question, the latter’s enduring faith in Chile’s “bourgeoisie legalism,” and although Debray acknowledges (perhaps out of politeness, as Ashwin suggested) that “objective conditions” demand that Chile follow the electoral path, Debray wonders whether there are limits to such a course. At some point a severe break will have to occur, one that by necessity must occur outside of legal and constitutional frameworks. Of course, such a break did occur, but it came from the right, not the left…
The question for a man of Debray’s ilk, an activist committed to action and perhaps convinced of the need for violence (he denies this), is whether the mutual entrapment of left and right within the logic of democracy can be sustained. See for example Debray’s question to Allende on pg. 80: “Don’t you feel that you are gradually becoming institutionalized?” Earlier, in his preamble, Debray writes:
“But ultimately, who has neutralized who…Who has tied whose hands? When one uses the legal system of the bourgeois State, is one not simultaneously used by it—in practice?…Such is the Chilean ambiguity—inevitable at the present, perhaps temporary stage. Here, crystallized and revealed in a crucial conjuncture, we rediscover the reciprocal conditioning of the terms of the contradiction to which the long coexistence of bourgeois-democratic institutions and the rising popular movement has led. Each of the terms present, imbricated together, acts both as a limit and a sanction with respect to the other…” (pg. 44)
Again, the question of “strategy versus tactic,” and whether or not at some point the two become confused, is the issue here. Is Allende’s enduring faith in “bourgeoisie legalism” as a revolutionary course a strategic response to the particular historical circumstances of the Chilean people and the country’s “revolutionary situation,” as it were, or simply a tactical maneuver to avoid the intervention of reactionary forces in his country? Does, in other words, Allende really believe in democracy? Does it matter?
Similar questions might be asked of Ernest “Ché” Guevara and the role of violence. I’ve set Ché as Allende’s foil, though I’m not certain that it’s necessarily obvious that these two men are so different (“For Allende, who is trying to obtain the same results by other means.”). Ask yourself, is Ché’s insistence, with all of its echoes of Frantz Fanon, that violence is an unavoidable and inevitable reasoned adherence to a revolutionary strategy? Or has violence become, as perhaps we saw with the Baader Meinhof group, “the thing itself?”
The next question to ask, I suppose, is “So what?” If tactics and strategy merged in the Chilean and Cuban story, how did this affect the course of the revolutionary process in Chile, or in Cuba/Congo/Bolivia, countries exposed to Ché’s adventurism? Maybe a better question to ask is how did the revolutionary OUTCOMES in Chile and Cuba affect revolutionary struggle in the region and around the world, in the seventies and eighties? How did the catastrophe in Chile (here I’m referring to Sept. 11, 1973) influence what happened in 1989 and the peaceful velvet revolutions that broke out across Eastern Europe? Or, turning the example on its head, how did the Chilean failure to produce revolution-by-democracy inform the violent struggles that took place in places like Italy, Germany, Japan, and across Latin America?
Chile and Cuba, Allende and Ché, stand as oppositions, a choice between electoral and violent paths to revolution. I wonder, however, if this was, is, a false choice or dichotomy. What, ultimately, did the paths taken by Ché and Allende accomplish? If there were failures, could it be said that those failures were due to decisions made by the UP or by Ché and Castro? I’m thinking here, of course, of the role of US intervention…
Would Allende have eventually found a way to mobilize if not all of Chilean society behind his revolution, then at least a sufficient number by which to govern? What percentage would that have been?
Or was it the case that the key variable was ultimately the military, the boys with the toys, in determining how far this Chilean experiment would reach…?
Consider the implications of the following quote by Ché, as well as Allende’s insistence that the political leadership in Chile expresses more than guides the will of the people. These claims revisit the issue of structure vs. agency, the relationship of elite leadership and mass action. Think about what we learned with Mao, how it didn’t take much for Mao’s leadership, if you can call it that, his ad hoc and seemingly arbitrary interventions to send the country and her universities into a tumult. Who is leading whom?
“‘Whether the revolution takes place through peaceful passages or whether it will come into the world after a painful birth, does not depend on the revolutionaries, it depends on the reactionary forces of the old society, which refuse to allow the birth of the new society, engendered by the contradictions held by the old society. The revolution plays the same part in history as does the doctor who assists in the birth of a new life. He does not use instruments of force unless they are necessary, but he uses them without hesitation each time that they may be necessary to aid the birth. It is a birth which brings the hope of a better life to the enslaved and exploited masses.”
Our authors speak of ordinary people as being a bit lost, in need of direction from above, from the vanguard. Ché speaks of the masses seeing only “in halves.” What is the consequence of such self-appointment and, frankly, condescension?
Finally, note that Allende won the 1970 presidential election in Chile with a bare plurality of the vote, a vote split neatly into thirds between 3 (very different) candidates. Given this circumstance, would Allende have eventually found a way to mobilize Chilean society behind his revolution, a sufficient number by which to govern? I guess what I’m asking, for a revolutionary committed to the “legal path” of revolution, what percentage would that have been?
Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong direction. Is it the case that the key variable was not the “guidance” of the people, but the arbitration of the military, the boys with the toys, in determining how far the Chilean experiment would reach…?