Anarchists and the Rise of the Welfare State
Monday, 29 August 2016 00:00 By Andrew Cornell, University of California
Press | Book Excerpt
Anarchist protesters gather at a rally held in Seattle, Washington, on May
1, 2015. (Photo: Adam Cohn)
This article is excerpted from Unruly Equality: US Anarchism in the 20th
Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016).
Also see: "Unruly Equality": A Brief History of Anarchism
During the presidential campaign of 1931, the patrician Democrat Franklin
Delano Roosevelt instilled hope in a deeply shaken electorate by claiming
"the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid" deserved a "new
deal." During his famous first hundred days in office, Roosevelt proposed a
flurry of new programs and policy changes aimed at reversing the downward
spiral of the domestic economy, then already in its third year.
US anarchists approached the New Deal with their typical skepticism toward
government initiatives heightened by suspicions stemming from the
manipulative ways in which Mussolini and Hitler had recently ascended to
power. In the April 1933 issue of the insurrectionary anarchist newspaper
Man!, editor Marcus Graham dubbed FDR's approach a "new hoax" and reminded
readers that they could expect nothing from government but "deceit and
treachery." He took particular umbrage with the Civilian Conservation Corps,
the first experiment with a work-relief program, in which young men would be
paid a modest wage to develop natural resources under the auspices of the
War Department. "What this dastardly scheme really implies isn't hard to
guess," Graham wrote. "It will be used for a two-fold purpose: first, to
further lower the workers' wage scale; second to have a standing army ready
to drown in blood any uprising that appears now so imminent." By August,
Graham had concluded that the New Deal was a plot to introduce "American
Fascism" under the guise of assisting the unemployed.
In early articles on the subject, contributors to the anarcho-syndicalist
journal Vanguard focused more attention on Roosevelt's National Industrial
Recovery Act (NIRA) but arrived at similarly pessimistic conclusions. The
act suspended antitrust laws and created boards to establish "industrial
codes" with the intention of raising commodity prices by limiting
competition. It also affirmed the right to organize, called for labor to be
represented on its industrial boards, and set a minimum wage and maximum
hours for participating corporations. Writing in May 1933, Mark Schmidt
critiqued the "rigging and freezing up of prices" that the NIRA's industrial
codes attempted, and predicted that the NIRA would dangerously increase the
government's role in labor conflicts. "Democracy will become attenuated to
the vanishing point, the powerful trusts merging with bureaucratic State
apparatus, the workers' organizations deprived of any right to strike and
act independently, 'coordinated' with the State
. This is the trend toward
Fascism." Melchior Steele, a contributor to Man!, likewise believed that
with the government acting as "a party to contracts," strikes would amount
to "rebellion against the government," further disinclining patriotic
workers from taking part.
In actuality, a quite different scenario played out. Firms stridently
resisted the NIRA's prolabor planks, refusing to abide by them and
challenging their constitutionality in court. The president of the United
Mine Workers, John L. Lewis, meanwhile publicly explained the new policy as
a mandate from the president for workers to join unions as a means of
combating the Depression. They responded enthusiastically, joining unions by
the hundreds of thousands. The largest strike wave since the end of the Red
Scare broke out the next year, as workers throughout the country fought to
enact and defend via direct action the new labor rights that Congress had
declared but had done little to enforce. As Staughton Lynd and other
historians have demonstrated, the labor upsurge of the early 1930s was
driven by local unions that mobilized entire communities, frequently
bridging racial and gender divides. Following the lead of former Wobblies
and other radicals, many adopted democratic decision-making procedures and
militant tactics to ward off strikebreaking police and replacement workers.
Yet self-identified anarchists do not appear to have played significant
roles.
Having grown disheartened by the labor movement and distanced from less
radical workers during the 1920s, anarchists often viewed the new unionism
with jaundiced eyes. During the summer of 1934, to cite one example,
communist longshoremen in California organized some 130,000 San Franciscans
to halt work for four days in support of striking dockworkers. Marcus Graham
dismissed the event's significance, telling readers of Man!, "There was no
General Strike in San Francisco worthy of the name." Though Graham lauded
the rank-and-file workers who had walked off the job, they had, to his mind,
been betrayed in a predictable fashion by "despicable and treasonous" union
spokesmen who had curtailed the strike. He could only hope the workers had
learned their lesson: "never again to entrust their struggles in the hands
of leaders." Though the critique of overly conciliatory representatives had
merits, the pessimistic and critical commentary issued by anarchists in the
1930s won them few new blue-collar supporters, given that they offered no
organizational alternative.
Although the Supreme Court eventually ruled that the NIRA's industrial
boards were an unconstitutional interference with private business, the 1935
National Labor Relations Act bolstered the standing of unions. It declared
collective bargaining not only legal but also a social good, and it
established a government-monitored procedure by which a majority vote
established a union as the sole representative of the entire workforce of a
facility. (New Deal politicians believed government backing would make it
easier for workers to organize and command wage hikes. This would increase
their purchasing power, redistributing wealth and reducing the threat of
overproduction that had catalyzed the crisis in the first place.) Bolstered
by the new law, but faced with continuing employer recalcitrance, unionists
launched major organizing drives among semiskilled workers in the steel,
mining, automobile, and other industries that had become the centerpiece of
the American economy.
Much of this organizing occurred under the auspices of the Congress of
Industrial Organizations (CIO), a new umbrella organization that broke away
from the AFL in 1935. Like the IWW, the new CIO unions sought to organize
industrially -- uniting every worker in a given field of production,
regardless of skill level and race. Unlike with the IWW, the abolition of
capitalism was not a goal, and internal union democracy was not a priority.
Indeed, John L. Lewis and other CIO leaders "preferred to act as labor
generals who led their troops in battle, not as temporarily elected
representatives who reflected the wishes of the ranks."
To the publishers of Vanguard, the CIO was barely distinguishable from the
AFL, an object of anarchist disdain since 1886. "A new unionism will not
spring up as a result of those puny efforts," an October 1936 editorial
assured readers. "The militancy of the great mass of unorganized workers
will be stifled from the very beginning and whatever may be accomplished ...
will be distorted by the monstrous centralization of power in the hands of
an irresponsible bureaucracy." The CIO did quickly move to consolidate many
of the local unions formed in the early 1930s, and Vanguard was perceptive
in anticipating the autocratic grip Lewis would exercise over the
organization.
Yet the group misjudged the potential for a new, militant unionism to arise
in the 1930s. The next years saw the invention of the mass sit-down strike
in Akron, Ohio, and Flint, Michigan. Union membership grew by 5 million over
the course of the decade, raising the percentage of the organized workforce
from 7.5 to 19.2. Moreover, the CIO actively organized African American
industrial workers and built multiracial locals with the intent of breaking
the color line that still characterized many AFL unions.
In the wake of these advances, Vanguard published more nuanced
considerations of the emerging social order. Contributor Joseph Zack argued
in 1937 that the United States was becoming a "State Capitalist" system.
Responding to the crisis features of traditional capitalism evidenced by the
Depression, the government would henceforth take on "regulation of wages,
prices, working hours, of 'social security' legislation and monetary
manipulation" -- in short, "the superstructural manipulation of capitalism
for the purpose of defending its base." In Zack's view, the farsighted
capitalists who favored this method of stabilizing the system could only
overcome the resistance of traditionalist elites through the mobilization of
working people. Roosevelt embraced the CIO to this end. In turn, Zack felt,
"the aim of the C.I.O. leaders is to get an expanded, well implemented and
regimented N.R.A. [National Recovery Act], in the operation of which the new
union bureaucracy will be the important and well paid servants of the new
capitalism." Zack lauded the sit-down strike as a powerful new weapon
developed by militant rank-and-filers, one that gave them greater leverage
not only against their employers but also vis-à-vis the union bureaucracy.
The sit-down strike, he concluded, "promises to be as much of a fighting
instrument on the part of labor as the system of state capitalism is for the
capitalist."
Vanguard's developing perspective anticipated many points later elaborated
by C. Wright Mills, C.L.R. James, and other influential critics of
mid-twentieth century unionism. Yet it may also have reinforced the
anarchists' sense of paralysis. While hundreds of communists and socialists
took up organizing responsibilities in the new CIO unions during the 1930s
and 1940s, attempting to radicalize them in the process, anarchists largely
continued to sit on the sidelines.
What, then, did anarchists suggest that those impoverished by the Depression
do? Here the factions split in predictable ways. By late 1935, the Vanguard
Group's Abe Bluestein could acknowledge that "Roosevelt's New Deal has
lifted this country from the low depths of March, 1933." He felt its effects
personally, as his wife, Selma, a painter, had taken a position with the
Works Progress Administration. Nonetheless, Bluestein issued a pamphlet
arguing that too many people remained unemployed, while those working for
New Deal agencies remained scandalously underpaid. Reiterating that a
complete solution required revolution, Bluestein nevertheless proposed a
program to fight "for some measure of security from starvation." First,
workers should demand "prevailing wages" for the unemployed and publicly
employed, paid for by "the wealthy." Next, they needed to "get back into
industry" by fighting for shorter hours with no reduction of pay, as a means
to spread out the work. Winning these reforms, he believed, required the
courage to break the law: "Let the unemployed show a little more respect for
their persons and a lot less for private property, and the government and
the wealthy will also begin to fear and respect their strength." With little
fanfare, then, a cofounder of the Vanguard Group acknowledged that despite a
half decade of Depression, the final break with capitalism wasn't imminent
and the federal government now represented a legitimate target from which
anarchists might wring concessions, assuming they did so using disruptive
direct-action tactics rather than elections and lobbying.
To Marcus Graham, who anticipated the arguments of late-twentieth century
anarcho-primitivists, however, "getting back into industry" was precisely
the wrong approach. In late 1934, he wrote, "As it appears to me, the
gravest of danger for mankind lies in the continued immense growth of
industrialization of life to the point where the individual loses more and
more of his significance as a self-reliant, self-creative and
self-ingenuitive [sic] human being." Moreover, Graham believed the
Depression was rooted in overproduction occasioned by industry's adoption of
new technologies. With other countries following suit, the United States
could not rely on expanded foreign markets to pull it out of the slump. War,
he presciently asserted, would be the only way to eliminate oversupply and
reverse the trend. For all of these reasons, Graham insisted, "the
decentralization of every centralized power and activity is the only safe
assurance for the building up of a true and free society." To that end, in
1932 he urged an Austin, Texas, audience not to wait for federal assistance
but to seize uncultivated land with the aim of supporting themselves. In
Memphis, he was even more direct: "Abandon the cities; leave them as
monuments to the folly of man." It is impossible to know how many people --
if any -- took this advice. Any who did would have been forced to learn the
rudiments of homesteading during one of the most severe droughts in the
nation's history -- one that sent thousands of "Okies" and other dust bowl
residents fleeing to California.
Between the 1930s and the 1950s, anarchists overwhelmingly viewed the New
Deal, and more generally the rise of the Keynesian welfare state, as a
sophisticated form of co-optation that represented a severe setback for the
labor movement and, hence, for social anarchism. This interpretation was
essentially built into their bedrock belief that political states can do no
good for ordinary people. Worries about the depoliticizing potential of
state income supports were not unwarranted. Yet this perspective naturalized
the outcomes of Keynesianism in two troubling respects. First, it discounted
the pressure labor and radical movements had exerted on elites in order to
win unemployment insurance, overtime pay, and other gains, reinforcing
gloomy assessments of the midcentury labor movement. Thirty years later,
however, the Diggers, Murray Bookchin, and other anarchists claimed that new
utopian possibilities arose from the unprecedented growth of first-world
economies. They assumed this "postscarcity" condition would continue
indefinitely, as it appeared to be an outgrowth of technological
developments as capitalism ran its course, rather than (at least partly) a
politically imposed division of wealth. For this reason, few anarchists saw
the gains won by workers in the 1930s as vulnerable, or even as "their"
gains to defend when the business class launched a concerted attack against
them in the 1970s. Like many other progressive and radical forces, they were
caught off guard by the onset of neoliberalism.
ANDREW CORNELL
Andrew Cornell is an educator and organizer currently serving as visiting
assistant professor of American studies at Williams College. He is the
author of Unruly Equality: U.S. Anarchism in the 20th Century (University of
California Press, 2016) and Oppose and Propose! Lessons from Movement for a
New Society (AK Press, 2011).
RELATED STORIES
Anarchism in Egypt An Interview from Tahrir Square
By Joshua Stephens, Waging Nonviolence | Interview
"Unruly Equality": A Brief History of Anarchism
By Andrew Cornell, University of California Press | Book Excerpt
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Anarchists and the Rise of the Welfare State
Monday, 29 August 2016 00:00 By Andrew Cornell, University of California
Press | Book Excerpt
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reference not valid.
Anarchist protesters gather at a rally held in Seattle, Washington,
on May 1, 2015. (Photo: Adam Cohn)
This article is excerpted from Unruly Equality: US Anarchism in the
20th Century (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016).
Also see: "Unruly Equality": A Brief History of Anarchism
During the presidential campaign of 1931, the patrician Democrat Franklin
Delano Roosevelt instilled hope in a deeply shaken electorate by claiming
"the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid" deserved a "new
deal." During his famous first hundred days in office, Roosevelt proposed a
flurry of new programs and policy changes aimed at reversing the downward
spiral of the domestic economy, then already in its third year.
US anarchists approached the New Deal with their typical skepticism toward
government initiatives heightened by suspicions stemming from the
manipulative ways in which Mussolini and Hitler had recently ascended to
power. In the April 1933 issue of the insurrectionary anarchist newspaper
Man!, editor Marcus Graham dubbed FDR's approach a "new hoax" and reminded
readers that they could expect nothing from government but "deceit and
treachery." He took particular umbrage with the Civilian Conservation Corps,
the first experiment with a work-relief program, in which young men would be
paid a modest wage to develop natural resources under the auspices of the
War Department. "What this dastardly scheme really implies isn't hard to
guess," Graham wrote. "It will be used for a two-fold purpose: first, to
further lower the workers' wage scale; second to have a standing army ready
to drown in blood any uprising that appears now so imminent." By August,
Graham had concluded that the New Deal was a plot to introduce "American
Fascism" under the guise of assisting the unemployed.
In early articles on the subject, contributors to the anarcho-syndicalist
journal Vanguard focused more attention on Roosevelt's National Industrial
Recovery Act (NIRA) but arrived at similarly pessimistic conclusions. The
act suspended antitrust laws and created boards to establish "industrial
codes" with the intention of raising commodity prices by limiting
competition. It also affirmed the right to organize, called for labor to be
represented on its industrial boards, and set a minimum wage and maximum
hours for participating corporations. Writing in May 1933, Mark Schmidt
critiqued the "rigging and freezing up of prices" that the NIRA's industrial
codes attempted, and predicted that the NIRA would dangerously increase the
government's role in labor conflicts. "Democracy will become attenuated to
the vanishing point, the powerful trusts merging with bureaucratic State
apparatus, the workers' organizations deprived of any right to strike and
act independently, 'coordinated' with the State
. This is the trend toward
Fascism." Melchior Steele, a contributor to Man!, likewise believed that
with the government acting as "a party to contracts," strikes would amount
to "rebellion against the government," further disinclining patriotic
workers from taking part.
In actuality, a quite different scenario played out. Firms stridently
resisted the NIRA's prolabor planks, refusing to abide by them and
challenging their constitutionality in court. The president of the United
Mine Workers, John L. Lewis, meanwhile publicly explained the new policy as
a mandate from the president for workers to join unions as a means of
combating the Depression. They responded enthusiastically, joining unions by
the hundreds of thousands. The largest strike wave since the end of the Red
Scare broke out the next year, as workers throughout the country fought to
enact and defend via direct action the new labor rights that Congress had
declared but had done little to enforce. As Staughton Lynd and other
historians have demonstrated, the labor upsurge of the early 1930s was
driven by local unions that mobilized entire communities, frequently
bridging racial and gender divides. Following the lead of former Wobblies
and other radicals, many adopted democratic decision-making procedures and
militant tactics to ward off strikebreaking police and replacement workers.
Yet self-identified anarchists do not appear to have played significant
roles.
Having grown disheartened by the labor movement and distanced from less
radical workers during the 1920s, anarchists often viewed the new unionism
with jaundiced eyes. During the summer of 1934, to cite one example,
communist longshoremen in California organized some 130,000 San Franciscans
to halt work for four days in support of striking dockworkers. Marcus Graham
dismissed the event's significance, telling readers of Man!, "There was no
General Strike in San Francisco worthy of the name." Though Graham lauded
the rank-and-file workers who had walked off the job, they had, to his mind,
been betrayed in a predictable fashion by "despicable and treasonous" union
spokesmen who had curtailed the strike. He could only hope the workers had
learned their lesson: "never again to entrust their struggles in the hands
of leaders." Though the critique of overly conciliatory representatives had
merits, the pessimistic and critical commentary issued by anarchists in the
1930s won them few new blue-collar supporters, given that they offered no
organizational alternative.
Although the Supreme Court eventually ruled that the NIRA's industrial
boards were an unconstitutional interference with private business, the 1935
National Labor Relations Act bolstered the standing of unions. It declared
collective bargaining not only legal but also a social good, and it
established a government-monitored procedure by which a majority vote
established a union as the sole representative of the entire workforce of a
facility. (New Deal politicians believed government backing would make it
easier for workers to organize and command wage hikes. This would increase
their purchasing power, redistributing wealth and reducing the threat of
overproduction that had catalyzed the crisis in the first place.) Bolstered
by the new law, but faced with continuing employer recalcitrance, unionists
launched major organizing drives among semiskilled workers in the steel,
mining, automobile, and other industries that had become the centerpiece of
the American economy.
Much of this organizing occurred under the auspices of the Congress of
Industrial Organizations (CIO), a new umbrella organization that broke away
from the AFL in 1935. Like the IWW, the new CIO unions sought to organize
industrially -- uniting every worker in a given field of production,
regardless of skill level and race. Unlike with the IWW, the abolition of
capitalism was not a goal, and internal union democracy was not a priority.
Indeed, John L. Lewis and other CIO leaders "preferred to act as labor
generals who led their troops in battle, not as temporarily elected
representatives who reflected the wishes of the ranks."
To the publishers of Vanguard, the CIO was barely distinguishable from the
AFL, an object of anarchist disdain since 1886. "A new unionism will not
spring up as a result of those puny efforts," an October 1936 editorial
assured readers. "The militancy of the great mass of unorganized workers
will be stifled from the very beginning and whatever may be accomplished ...
will be distorted by the monstrous centralization of power in the hands of
an irresponsible bureaucracy." The CIO did quickly move to consolidate many
of the local unions formed in the early 1930s, and Vanguard was perceptive
in anticipating the autocratic grip Lewis would exercise over the
organization.
Yet the group misjudged the potential for a new, militant unionism to arise
in the 1930s. The next years saw the invention of the mass sit-down strike
in Akron, Ohio, and Flint, Michigan. Union membership grew by 5 million over
the course of the decade, raising the percentage of the organized workforce
from 7.5 to 19.2. Moreover, the CIO actively organized African American
industrial workers and built multiracial locals with the intent of breaking
the color line that still characterized many AFL unions.
In the wake of these advances, Vanguard published more nuanced
considerations of the emerging social order. Contributor Joseph Zack argued
in 1937 that the United States was becoming a "State Capitalist" system.
Responding to the crisis features of traditional capitalism evidenced by the
Depression, the government would henceforth take on "regulation of wages,
prices, working hours, of 'social security' legislation and monetary
manipulation" -- in short, "the superstructural manipulation of capitalism
for the purpose of defending its base." In Zack's view, the farsighted
capitalists who favored this method of stabilizing the system could only
overcome the resistance of traditionalist elites through the mobilization of
working people. Roosevelt embraced the CIO to this end. In turn, Zack felt,
"the aim of the C.I.O. leaders is to get an expanded, well implemented and
regimented N.R.A. [National Recovery Act], in the operation of which the new
union bureaucracy will be the important and well paid servants of the new
capitalism." Zack lauded the sit-down strike as a powerful new weapon
developed by militant rank-and-filers, one that gave them greater leverage
not only against their employers but also vis-à-vis the union bureaucracy.
The sit-down strike, he concluded, "promises to be as much of a fighting
instrument on the part of labor as the system of state capitalism is for the
capitalist."
Vanguard's developing perspective anticipated many points later elaborated
by C. Wright Mills, C.L.R. James, and other influential critics of
mid-twentieth century unionism. Yet it may also have reinforced the
anarchists' sense of paralysis. While hundreds of communists and socialists
took up organizing responsibilities in the new CIO unions during the 1930s
and 1940s, attempting to radicalize them in the process, anarchists largely
continued to sit on the sidelines.
What, then, did anarchists suggest that those impoverished by the Depression
do? Here the factions split in predictable ways. By late 1935, the Vanguard
Group's Abe Bluestein could acknowledge that "Roosevelt's New Deal has
lifted this country from the low depths of March, 1933." He felt its effects
personally, as his wife, Selma, a painter, had taken a position with the
Works Progress Administration. Nonetheless, Bluestein issued a pamphlet
arguing that too many people remained unemployed, while those working for
New Deal agencies remained scandalously underpaid. Reiterating that a
complete solution required revolution, Bluestein nevertheless proposed a
program to fight "for some measure of security from starvation." First,
workers should demand "prevailing wages" for the unemployed and publicly
employed, paid for by "the wealthy." Next, they needed to "get back into
industry" by fighting for shorter hours with no reduction of pay, as a means
to spread out the work. Winning these reforms, he believed, required the
courage to break the law: "Let the unemployed show a little more respect for
their persons and a lot less for private property, and the government and
the wealthy will also begin to fear and respect their strength." With little
fanfare, then, a cofounder of the Vanguard Group acknowledged that despite a
half decade of Depression, the final break with capitalism wasn't imminent
and the federal government now represented a legitimate target from which
anarchists might wring concessions, assuming they did so using disruptive
direct-action tactics rather than elections and lobbying.
To Marcus Graham, who anticipated the arguments of late-twentieth century
anarcho-primitivists, however, "getting back into industry" was precisely
the wrong approach. In late 1934, he wrote, "As it appears to me, the
gravest of danger for mankind lies in the continued immense growth of
industrialization of life to the point where the individual loses more and
more of his significance as a self-reliant, self-creative and
self-ingenuitive [sic] human being." Moreover, Graham believed the
Depression was rooted in overproduction occasioned by industry's adoption of
new technologies. With other countries following suit, the United States
could not rely on expanded foreign markets to pull it out of the slump. War,
he presciently asserted, would be the only way to eliminate oversupply and
reverse the trend. For all of these reasons, Graham insisted, "the
decentralization of every centralized power and activity is the only safe
assurance for the building up of a true and free society." To that end, in
1932 he urged an Austin, Texas, audience not to wait for federal assistance
but to seize uncultivated land with the aim of supporting themselves. In
Memphis, he was even more direct: "Abandon the cities; leave them as
monuments to the folly of man." It is impossible to know how many people --
if any -- took this advice. Any who did would have been forced to learn the
rudiments of homesteading during one of the most severe droughts in the
nation's history -- one that sent thousands of "Okies" and other dust bowl
residents fleeing to California.
Between the 1930s and the 1950s, anarchists overwhelmingly viewed the New
Deal, and more generally the rise of the Keynesian welfare state, as a
sophisticated form of co-optation that represented a severe setback for the
labor movement and, hence, for social anarchism. This interpretation was
essentially built into their bedrock belief that political states can do no
good for ordinary people. Worries about the depoliticizing potential of
state income supports were not unwarranted. Yet this perspective naturalized
the outcomes of Keynesianism in two troubling respects. First, it discounted
the pressure labor and radical movements had exerted on elites in order to
win unemployment insurance, overtime pay, and other gains, reinforcing
gloomy assessments of the midcentury labor movement. Thirty years later,
however, the Diggers, Murray Bookchin, and other anarchists claimed that new
utopian possibilities arose from the unprecedented growth of first-world
economies. They assumed this "postscarcity" condition would continue
indefinitely, as it appeared to be an outgrowth of technological
developments as capitalism ran its course, rather than (at least partly) a
politically imposed division of wealth. For this reason, few anarchists saw
the gains won by workers in the 1930s as vulnerable, or even as "their"
gains to defend when the business class launched a concerted attack against
them in the 1970s. Like many other progressive and radical forces, they were
caught off guard by the onset of neoliberalism.
Andrew Cornell
Andrew Cornell is an educator and organizer currently serving as visiting
assistant professor of American studies at Williams College. He is the
author of Unruly Equality: U.S. Anarchism in the 20th Century (University of
California Press, 2016) and Oppose and Propose! Lessons from Movement for a
New Society (AK Press, 2011).
Related Stories
Anarchism in Egypt An Interview from Tahrir Square
By Joshua Stephens, Waging Nonviolence | Interview "Unruly Equality": A
Brief History of Anarchism
By Andrew Cornell, University of California Press | Book Excerpt
Show Comments
