By all means condemn Frances Fox Piven and Stephen Eric Bronner for giving Left Cover to the Fake Leftists! http://www.democratiya.com/authors/default.asp
Part 1. Personal and Intellectual Background
Alan Johnson: In an interview with Brian Lamb for Book TV you talked about your 'social democratic heart'. How did you acquire one of those? Can you tell me about your family and early experiences?
Paul Berman: I come from a typical New York Jewish background. My family came to America as immigrants more than a century ago and worked in the garment industry. My grandfather, who was a factory tailor, was active in building his trade union and he took part in the socialist movement, too, on its more conservative side. I grew up naturally identifying with the labour movement and the democratic left. In college I was active in the New Left, which was a lot more radical. But now I find myself reverting to the politics of my grandfather, who, it now seems to me, had a lot of wisdom.
Alan Johnson: What were your intellectual influences? You have said that you 'romanticised Durruti, the militant leader of the Spanish Anarchists, and the anarcho-syndicalists of the Spanish Civil War'. What movements or thinkers have been especially influential for you?
Paul Berman: During the course of the new left, a great number of people veered off rebelliously into Leninist directions of various sorts - to Maoism or Trotskyism or old-line Moscow communism. But I rebelled against the rebels. I found myself fascinated by an entirely different wing of the old left, which was the Anarchists, at a point when, in New York, any number of my own comrades were taking up a nostalgic cult of the old American Communist Party. The old working class Anarchists of New York had created an organisation innocently, and rather cautiously, called The Libertarian Book Club. The club contained a number of people who had participated in the Russian Revolution. There were people who gone to Spain during the Civil War there. There were a lot of Wobblies around. I got to known those people.
Alan Johnson: What were the most important ideas you took from that milieu?
Paul Berman: What drew me to that milieu was a revulsion against the Leninist passions that were claiming so much of the New Left. I always thought of the New Left as an anti-authoritarian movement, and suddenly here were too many of my friends and comrades drifting in ever more authoritarian directions. The old-time anarchists, on the other hand, exuded a natural spirit and culture that was inherently libertarian. The Anarchists entertained a very thorough critique of Communism. They had a whole literature on the Soviet Union and a criticism of Communism that was at once philosophical and practical. A very bitter literature. There was also, in New York, beginning in the 1960s, a serious anarchist criticism of Castro, which came from the exiled Cuban Anarchists in Argentina and even in Miami, who had their newspapers. These writings were taken very seriously by some people in New York. In the old anarchist circles, you could learn about the firing squads and the prisons.
There was something of a 'high culture' spirit among the Anarchists. They took writing and literature seriously and this, too, was attractive to me. And from still another point of view there was a certain reasonableness to them, believe it or not. Some of those old militants were pretty extreme - there was a fairly wild group of Italians, among others. And yet, a good many of those people were affiliated in one way or another with the old social democrats in New York. The Jewish anarchist newspaper was supported by the garment workers union - my grandfather's union, the old social democrats of the labour movement. Those old anarchists were not as cut off from the institutions and spirit of American liberalism as you might imagine. All that was attractive and it gave me a good education and a spirit of independence.
I also took from them an example of how someone could be genuinely independent and indifferent to the opinions of the great majority. The old Anarchists in New York were brave. Anti-Castro on one hand, and opposed to the gangsters in their own unions on the other hand. They were indifferent to the rest of the left – really, to everybody: faithful only to their own judgments and opinions – and I found this really inspiring. I learnt a habit of independence of mind, or I like to think that I did.
Alan Johnson: In the 1980s you travelled to Nicaragua to report on the Sandinista Revolution. Did the independence of mind you speak of play a part in your reporting?
Paul Berman: I travelled to Nicaragua many times, beginning in 1985 at the invitation of Mother Jones magazine. I went there with a journalistic idea that drew on the old anarchist notion of workers' autonomy - which was also pretty much the idea that was in vogue on the left in those days amongst the Marxist and Marxist-influenced historians. This was the idea that you could find in the writings of E.P. Thompson, or of Herbert Gutman and David Montgomery and other people in the United States - the idea of writing history from the bottom up, the history of workers' grass-roots movements and organisations, and of trying to get an accurate picture of the mode of production, not just abstractly but with faces and names. I had read pretty widely in these historians, and I went to Nicaragua precisely with the idea of studying the revolution from this point of view.
I spent a lot of time in a provincial town called Masaya, which had been the original home of the revolution against the Somoza dictatorship. Masaya is an industrial town in the eighteenth-century style. Shoe-making is a big industry. I became friends with some of the shoemakers. They had a co-operative, and I studied its history, which led back into the history of Central American Marxism. The shoemakers in Masaya had played their part in the revolution against the old dictatorship. I began to look at events from their point of view - to see the revolution from below. And I found myself in an odd situation.
On the one hand I was writing some of the most classically left-wing journalism (in my own eyes) to come out of Nicaragua – I was talking to workers' organisations and telling the story from their point of view. On the other hand, telling the story from the point of view of the Masaya workers did not put the Sandinistas in a flattering light. It took me a little while to realise that the Sandinistas were running a version of a Leninist revolution and that they had created a thorough system of top-down oppression which descended all the way into the workplace and the cooperatives and the home and the neighbourhood and the school, which was really quite resented by a lot of people – the same people who had been at the forefront of the revolution against the Somoza dictatorship. This was a big story. I suppose I had stumbled onto a Central American Kronstadt.
I was a little timid at first about arriving at conclusions that were at odds with those of so many friends and comrades. But I became more confident. And then I found that I had become very unpopular among a great many people, and this was a little daunting. Then again, I found myself encouraged and cheered on by some of the old Anarchists back in New York. A friend went to see my old Wobbly friend and mentor, Sam Dolgoff, not too long before his death, in the late 1980s. Sam asked about me, and when he was told that I had gone to Nicaragua and was reporting on the Sandinistas, he said, 'He better not come back liking them.'
I also came out of Nicaragua having developed an enormous passion for Nicaraguan literature and Latin American literature more generally, and I have been writing about that, though most of what I've written hasn't been published yet.