Part Four: Detroit and Donetsk
An early Soviet propaganda poster exhorted
its readers:
Let’s
take the torrent of the Russian revolution
Add
the effectiveness of American technology
And
construct socialism!
On a similar note, Bolshevik leader and
former New York resident Nikolai Bukharin called for the party to “add
Americanism to Marxism”. For them, and for many other leftists of their
generation, the United States symbolised all that was modern and progressive.
In the first post in this series, I
mentioned that the political base of Daniel De Leon and his Socialist Labor
Party was in Detroit. In 1914, it was attempting to organise workers at Henry
Ford’s automotive plant at River Rouge. To stave off the threat of unionisation
and reduce staff turnover, Ford more than doubled the daily pay of his
employees to the previously unthinkable five dollars, reducing the working day
from nine hours to eight in the process. Thus, syndicalism – or the threat
thereof – provoked one of the most important changes in the nature in
capitalism.
Fordism was the practical implementation of
the ‘scientific management’ theories of Frederick Winslow Taylor, an industrial
engineer from Philadelphia who had become a household name in the United States
in the early 1910s thanks to his work on rationalising the operations of firms.
Aside from raising wages and lowering the prices of consumer goods, Fordism
aimed at simplifying production methods so as to reduce the power of skilled
workers, the base of the early American craft unions. Indeed, Fordism was
opposed by the class-collaborationist leader of the American Federation of
Labor, Samuel Gospers, and welcomed by the IWW, which fancied its chances of
recruiting all the new unskilled workers created in the Detroit factories.
When these techniques spread across the
Atlantic, they initially met with fierce resistance. As mentioned earlier, the
quasi-syndicalist Workers’ Opposition arose in Russia and the Ukraine to resist
the Taylorist policies of the Soviet leadership in the transport and metallurgy
industries. In France, the then-syndicalist CGT said that the worker under the
Taylorist regime was “reduced to a machine without a soul, producing intensely
and excessively”. But after the War, much of the European Left came round to
the position of a German writer who stated that Fordism was “the most powerful
and welcome ally of socialism”. The new breed of CGT leaders such as Jouhaux
and Merrheim became supporters of both Fordism and the consumerist economy
which was the logical product of its proto-Keynesian stimulation of demand
(which meshed nicely with their revision of pre-war producer-only syndicalism),
while commentators inside and outside of the early Soviet Union hailed it as
the world’s first Taylorist state.
In some ways, the CGT’s reconciliation with
mass production was not an accident. There was a definite technocratic and productivist
strand in left-wing French thought going back to Saint-Simon, the déclassé aristocrat and early
nineteenth-century utopian socialist who proposed a new order based on
industrial progress, full employment, class collaboration, and technocracy. It
was Saint-Simon who first introduced the concept of the ‘government of men’
being replaced by the ‘administration of things’. CGT leaders and thinkers in
the 1910s adapted some saint-simonien
ideas, such as the central role of technology in economic history, and used
them to reassess their own ideas. For example, the Marxist contention that
capitalism was doomed by a falling rate of profits was held to be negated by
mass production and mass consumption.
While the Left saw the emancipatory
potential in Fordism, it was Europe’s reactionaries who defended the small
workshop and craftsman of the nineteenth century against this new invasion.
Rightists such as French electoral geographer and future Vichy collaborator
André Siegfried bemoaned the homogenising and levelling social effects of
consumerism; a fashionable Frenchwoman, Siegfried moaned, could no longer be
the only lady in Paris wearing a particular type of hat if hats were being mass
produced for an undifferentiated mass market. Unlike the twenty-first century,
when so-called ‘leftists’ take up middle-class NIMBY concerns about development
and growth and attack popular consumption habits, the Dieselpunk era was one in
which the Left was the side of politics which hailed technological advance and
consumerism.
With the economic climate of the New
Economic Policy being open to the granting of concessions to foreign
capitalists, Henry Ford took the opportunity to set up a plant at Nizhny
Novgorod (later known until the fall of communism as Gorky) in 1929. The Soviet
regime’s emulation of American industry went even further – when it established
the planned iron and steel city of Magnitogorsk, the city was modelled on Gary,
Indiana. Like many good things about early Soviet society, this flirtation with
Americanism was cut short by Stalin’s accession to power.
The Soviet Union in the following years
did, however, have its own version of Fordism-Taylorism. Named after Alexei
Stakhanov, a coal miner from the Donetsk region who supposedly hauled a
ridiculous amount of coal in a short period of time, the Stakhanovite movement
was the regime’s way of exhorting workers to higher productivity. Writers on
the subject have suggested that Stakhanovism was less about increasing the
authority of management, and was instead a way for the regime to harness the
workers against their managers; nevertheless, Stakhanovism was only an
incomplete adaptation of Fordism, lacking the high wages and consumerism of its
American counterpart.
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