On Communism

This essay is incomplete; I'm publishing it now for criticism and comment, but will return to it. It is part of a train of thought which includes at least Building Lifeboats, Manifesto for a good society, On Money, and The Standingstone Model. In its final form it will probably be rewritten to include parts of all of those.

Words mean what they are used to mean, and it is natural for the meanings of words to drift over time. But sometimes this drift results it being impossible to discuss, in simple language, what the word formerly meant; and sometimes, people deliberately abuse words in order to direct that drift, in order to make discourse about a concept harder. I will argue that 'communism' is a case in point; and I believe this matters, because I believe that 'communism' in an earlier sense, in a sense that was consensual in France in the decades around the French revolution, is a concept important to the world today.

What is 'communism'? Most people, these days, think it means a political doctrine expounded by Karl Marx, and further elaborated by Vladimir Ilyich. It isn't, of course; it's an idea that long predated Marx. I've heard it claimed that Marx didn't actually believe in communism, but was only persuaded (by Engels) to use the name because it sounded cooler and more hardcore than socialism. I'm not sure this is true, but what is true is that virtually the only thing that Marx actually writes about communism is that it is the (inevitable, because he believes that history is mechanistic) end point of the programme he sets out in his manifesto¹.

He does not, as far as I can find, anywhere present a vision of this society which will be the end point of history. Marx himself did not claim that the state would wither away: that is a concept first written by Engels. Although Marx did claim communism as the end point, he nowhere, that I can find, elucidates what he means by it. The kindest thing I can do is to assume that Marx thought that the meaning of communism was so well understood that it needed no elucidation; in which case, it would be the meaning of communism that was current in Paris at the time that Marx was writing The Communist Manifesto, in Paris.

Saying that Marx, possibly Engels, and certainly Lenin, used the word 'communist' as a name for a party whose day-to-day practice was the diametric opposite of communism, is not to say that they deliberately subverted the word. On the contrary, it is possible from what they wrote that they did sincerely believe that their political programme would eventually result in communism — even though they nowhere elucidated how this would happen, beyond Engels unevidenced claim that the state would 'wither away'.

But other political commentators — commentators of the right, hostile to the Marxist-Leninist project — undoubtedly did deliberately conflate the day-to-day practice of Marxism-Leninism, which is to say a highly centralised, authoritarian, bureaucratic, surveillance state, with 'communism'. In doing so, they have almost completely erased its earlier meaning, the one which I wish to reclaim.

So what was that meaning?

The Commune

From the early medieval period to the present day, France has been divided into 'communes' — roughly equivalent to Scots or English parishes. But a note here on etymology: in the Latin root, 'commune' is the plural; the equivalent singular is 'communia'. A 'communia' means a group (of people) who hold at least some asset in common. However, by medieval times, in France at least, 'commune' had become the singular .That Marx knew of such communes is evidenced by the fact that he mentions them twice in his historical exposition in The Communist Manifesto.

Historically, the commune is claimed to develop from the need of the peasantry of an area to band together in mutual defence — against bandits, or against aristocrats, the two being not greatly different.

A commune is an autonomous grouping of the people who live in a defined geographic area, with at least some assets held in common, who have some established more or less democratic process for making collective decisions. Communes are not all the same, precisely because they are autonomous and therefore form and amend their own more or less formalised constitutions, rather than having a standard constitution imposed upon them from above.

What distinguishes a commune from a city? Well, not a lot, actually, except for having assets in common; that early cities had slavery, and the commune does not; and that, by the period when communes started to emerge as a class of settlement, cities were often ruled by a 'Principe' (Prince) or 'Duce' (Duke): they had become autocracies or at best oligarchies. Thus, a commune is more egalitarian than a city. But also, in modern parlance, 'city' has become a term for a settlement of almost unlimited size; so for example, Chongqing is a city in China with a population of thirty two million people.

By contrast, communes — in the period when the concept evolved, and in the period political thinkers in France were looking back to when they first stated talking about 'communism' — were much smaller, a few thousand people at very most. So a commune is a group of limited size. And if I were challenged to put an absolute number on that, I think the practical upper bound for a community in which democracy can effectively work is two degrees of separation: you may not know everyone in your commune, but for any two people in your commune, there is at least one person in your commune who knows both of them.

∀ p, q ( p ∈ C & q ∈ C) ⇒ ∃ r (r ∈ C & knows(r, p) & knows(r, q))

Autonomy implies that a commune in which all decisions are taken by consensus, one where they are taken by vote in a general assembly, and one where they are taken by elected committees, and one where they are taken by a single elected council, should all be able to live side by side in a communist system, with mutual tolerance.

What is Communism?

Communism is, then, merely the idea that society should be structured into a set of mutually tolerant communes, without saying very much about the internal structuring of those communes. What is the minimum that communes should be able to expect of their peers in such a system? I think the absolute minimum is that people should be free to leave the commune of which they have been a member, and move to another that will welcome them. That is to say, that slavery or serfdom, including that variant of serfdom which is an unbreakable marriage vow, are not tolerated. The right of people who are not members of a commune to travel peaceably through the lands of that commune is also pretty vital, so a commune which would not allow free passage might also expect to be at least ostracised. And communes should expect one another to be tolerant of diversity within each commune as well as between communes, because of the paradox of tolerance.

How would a group of communes discipline one of their neighbours which fell below these standards? Well, I'd hope, by the withdrawal of co-operation; by ostracism.

Coordination and superstructure

Some sort of coordinating superstructure in the form of an assembly of delegates or representative from different communes, discussing issues over a wider area, is possibly a naturally emergent property of a group of communes; but such a system ceases to be 'communist' if the superstructure is perceived to be able to impose its decisions on particular communes. That is, a system is 'communist' only if it tolerates heterogeneity and dissent.

Communism and Syndicalism

Note that syndicalism encapsulates the alternative idea that, for each activity of common concern across a group of communes, there should emerge organically a group of people drawn from the different communes who all share a common interest in working in that activity, this group being called a syndicate. Thus there's not one overarching superstructure for all activities, but instead, for an example, there's one syndicate of telecommunications specialists who run the telephone networks, another of railway engineers who keep the trains running, and another of specialist medical staff who offer hospital services.

Communism and private property

But, you may ask, does not communism imply something much stronger about the holding of property in common? And my answer is yes, I think it does. Because private property, and the ability to trade and inherit private property, very rapidly creates hierarchies of wealth, and hierarchies of wealth rapidly create hierarchies of influence, which is to say social power. And hierarchies of wealth erode democracy, as we are seeing in western countries at present, with the super-rich effectively buying up all the political parties through 'donations'.

So, a commune can tolerate private property and still be a commune; but a commune which tolerates the accretion and inheritance of private property cannot be stable. It will inevitably degrade, at least into an oligarchy, probably, ultimately, into an autocracy.

Communism and Anarchism

Anarchism is a concept which is like communism, but one level down: instead of saying that the commune should be autonomous, self governing, sovereign, it says that individual people should be autonomous, self governing, sovereign. An anarchist commune, then, is a commune of autonomous individuals: which is to say that the members within the commune are not bound by the decisions of the commune: that they can dissent — to a degree — without being ostracised.

Of course, there are limits to that, simply in terms of the autonomy of the other members: no other member is compelled to co-operate with an uncooperative neighbour, and, once you have sufficiently annoyed all your neighbours, you'll have no co-operation from anyone. Ultimately, you may be driven out. But if you are, you're driven out, not because you 'broke the rules', not be some bureaucratic process, but by the collective action of your neighbours in the moment.

So, to amend our earlier definition, an anarchist commune is a commune of autonomous individuals who voluntarily co-operate.

Nothing requires a commune to be anarchist. A commune could have a democratically elected council which made binding rules — laws — for its members, and still be a commune. The principle of autonomy ought to allow different communes with different internal organisation to rub along reasonably cooperatively. It might be that in a given region, the more anarchist communes would co-operate together more closely in one informal group and the more rule bound communes in another, and that would be fine.

People who found themselves living in an anarchist commune and feeling uncomfortable with the relative inefficiency and uncertainty could choose to move to a neighbouring rule-bound commune; people in a rule-bound commune who found themselves stifled by the rules could move to a neighbouring anarchist commune.

Communism does not require anarchism, nor anarchism communism; but they mesh together well.

Usufruct and Liferent

We all, I think, know the annoyance of going to look for a favourite tool, one we have carefully maintained, and finding that it is missing, or worse, has been borrowed by someone, used carelessly, and damaged. Everyone who has rented knows the insecurity of not knowing whether, and when, they may be evicted from their home. Both of these are things which make life substantially worse; both of these are advanced as objections to holding property in common.

Two traditional practices — evolved from practices of communal living — address these issues, and are worth considering. The first is usufruct, literally the right to the fruits of something; but more generally, the right to exclusive or preferential right to some thing while you are making effective use of it. In Emiliano Zapata's phrase,

La tierra es de quien la trabaja

The land belongs to those who work it; and more generally, the tool belongs to the person who uses it. If I have an axe which I use and sharpen and maintain regularly, it is 'my' axe, at least as long as I continue to use and maintain it. If someone else needs an axe and does not have one, they may ask me for a loan of mine, and I may agree to lend it but reasonably expect it back, undamaged, before I next need it. But when I become so elderly that I can no longer effectively use that axe, then it would be reasonable for someone who needs an axe to ask me if they can have it, and it would be unreasonable for me to refuse them.

But it would also be unreasonable, and socially frowned upon, for me to deliberately misuse an axe (or any other tool) in such a way as to damage it; it would be unreasonable for me to deliberately throw the axe in the sea, or bury it in a hidden place. Although the axe is 'mine' in the sense that I have preferential use of it, it is never the less part of the common wealth; it is not 'mine' to wilfully lose or destroy. When I no longer need it, it should be passed on in good order to someone who does, unless it is entirely worn out with use.

Similarly with land. If I till and fence and care for an allotment of land, and share the surplus production of that land with my neighbours, then I have a reasonable expectation that others will not root out my crop in order to plant their own, or trample over my crop, or take my crop leaving me none. If I don't use the land for a limited period, for example because I'm ill or because I think it needs to lie fallow for a year, that doesn't mean that someone else can reasonably move onto it without discussion. But if I abandon the land for an extended period, it's at least reasonable for people to ask me what I'm doing with the land, and whether they may take it over and work it.

It was common practice in the British Isles, under the runrig system, for villages to assign allotments of inbye land to individual households, and periodically, every few years, to adjust these allocations — as one household had more children, as another grew elderly and less able to work. This is a good system. Systems which reallocate land too frequently incentivise unsustainable husbandry; too infrequently, create disparities in wealth.

So that's usufruct. You have a right to the preferential use of things which you use, while you continue to make good use of them. You don't have a right to wilfully damage anything, even something you have preferential use of. And once you no longer use it, or to dispose of it, unless it is so worn out as to be no longer useful; you don't have a right to keep it after you no longer use it. Usufruct is, in my opinion, a good concept.

Liferent is sort of similar to usufruct, adapted to places to live. Liferent is a particularly Scottish system which gives a person secure tenure of their home, for the whole of their life, but without the right to pass that tenure on to their heirs. This means you can't be evicted from your home, once you have it. People have security of tenure. It doesn't mean you can't voluntarily give up your home, for example if you decide to move in with someone else, or leave the area altogether; It does mean you can reasonably expect to leave your home for a period, for example while travelling, and not have anyone else move into it while you're gone. It doesn't mean a single individual can simultaneously have two homes; and it doesn't mean that, when you die, one of your children automatically gets to move into your home — although, if they were living there already, they, too, should not be evicted.

But this kind of assumes that homes are of similar value. If one house is substantially better than others, as it might be if its householder had worked carefully at improving it over a lifetime, and another was substantially worse, as it might be if it had suffered from, for example, subsidence or flood damage, then clearly the idea that a resident child gets to inherit the tenancy becomes inequitable. There cannot be any doctrinaire solution to this problem, because communes must be autonomous, and thus must do what their members can agree on; but my advice, as I set out in Manifesto for a Good Society, is that ultimate responsibility for the provision of homes, and the maintenance of homes, should rest with the commune.

It also assumes that nuclear families live in individual dwellings, alienated from one another, as they do now, in post-Christian late capitalism. They may not. Some members of some communes may choose to live much more collectively, perhaps in dormitories, perhaps in individual bedrooms with a central refectory. All sorts of models can be tried and should be tried: again, communes are autonomous, and diversity is built into the model.

Does one model fit all?

If communes are a good model for social organisation, are they a good model for social organisation everywhere? The answer is, I think, not. In rural areas, communities tend to group naturally, and the boundaries between communities are not particularly contentious or hard to draw. In urban areas, this isn't true at all. It's very hard to divide an urban area up into distinct 'two degrees of separation' communities, and, even if it's possible to do so, it would be very hard to find a set of such communities that were geographically distinct, unless you have a pre-existing system of ghettos. How you build a lightweight model of urban social organisation which can easily manage resource and land conflicts is not something I currently have an answer for, but I do not think a set of geographically delimited communes is the right solution.