Myths About Anarchism, Democracy, and Decision-Making

“I have often read writings that attempt to discredit my ideas, but which merely repeat, using different terminology, what I myself have argued and argue. Likewise, I have often seen ideas being attributed to comrades who scorn them, for the easy pleasure of refuting them afterwards” – Errico Malatesta 1911 (Malatesta 2023, 316).

In 2022 I wrote an essay called Anarchism and Democracy which summarised what members of the historical anarchist movement thought about democracy and how they made collective decisions (Baker 2022). This essay was subsequently completely misunderstood by both pro-democracy and anti-democracy anarchists as saying things it does not say and which I have never said. Over the subsequent years these distortions and misinterpretations have taken on a life of their own and altered how people read and remember my essay. In parallel to these developments both old and new myths about historical anarchist views on democracy and collective decision-making have continued to spread. In this essay I shall go through these myths one by one and debunk them. Through doing so I shall expand on topics that my previous essay only briefly touched on.

Myth One: historical anarchists only rejected representative democracy.

This is extremely wrong. Anarchism is against all forms of democratic government and authority. Historical anarchists typically described really existing governments as institutions that (i) perform the function of reproducing the power of the economic ruling classes; (ii) are hierarchically and centrally organised; and (iii) are wielded by a minority political ruling class who sit at the top of the government hierarchy and possess the authority to make laws and issue commands at a societal level that others must obey due to the threat or exercise of institutionalised force, such as the police, prisons, army, and legal system (Baker 2023, 74-78). It is nonetheless logically possible for a government to be ruled by the majority of the population. If such a genuinely democratic government existed then anarchists would oppose it. In 1890 Charlotte Wilson published an article called “Democracy or Anarchism” in which she rejected “Democracy” in the sense of “the rule or government of the many” (Wilson 2000, 66). Decades later in 1927 Malatesta wrote that, “anarchists do not accept majority government (democracy)” (Malatesta 2014, 488). The exact same point was made by other major anarchist theorists, including Carlo Cafiero (Cafiero 2012, 50), Emma Goldman (Goldman 1996, 110), Voltairine De Cleyre (de Cleyre 2005, 57-58, 92-93), and Ricardo Mella (Mella 2015). It can also be found in less well known sources like Louisa Sarah Bevington’s 1895 Anarchist Manifesto (Bevington 1895, 9).

This perspective was grounded in the anarchist opposition to any hierarchical social structure in which a ruler wields authority and so the institutionalised power to dominate others. They were against both the rule of the minority and the rule of the majority (A. Parsons 2003, 94; L. Parsons 2004, 96; Galleani 2012, 42; Grave 1899, chapter VII; Wilson 2000, 54-55). To quote Malatesta,

Authoritarian organization, which is to say the type in which some command and others obey, derives from the arrogance of those who finds themselves, in some way, in a more advantageous situation than others, as well as from the submissiveness and apathy of the masses, who, unwilling and unable to manage for themselves, let themselves be dominated by someone who sets them to work in his place, with the pretext, or perhaps the sincere intention, of doing good for them. In an authoritarian organization the rulers are always, in practice, a very small number of individuals; but even if they accounted for the numerical majority of the organized, their domination would not be any less unfair and fecund with corruption and woes of every kind for the rulers and the ruled alike (Malatesta 2019, 130).

The anarchist rejection of democracy as a system of government applied to both direct democracies and representative democracies. This is for the obvious reason that all democratic governments, whether direct or representative, are governments and so incompatible with anarchism’s goal of a stateless classless society without authority. Despite this fact, it is extremely rare to find any historical anarchists discussing direct democracy explicitly. Most anarchist critiques of democracy either make claims about the idea of majority government/majority rule in general or focus specifically on representative democracy (Bakunin 1990, 13; Berkman 2003, 71-73, 103; Kropotkin 2022, 101-27). For example, in 1926 the Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad released The Organisational Platform of the General Union of Anarchists (Draft). It featured a section titled “the Negation of Democracy” that only mentioned bourgeois parliamentary democracy (The Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad 2002a, 198).

This is a reflection of the context that anarchists were writing in. For most of European history there was no distinction between direct and representative democracy. The ancient Greek word dēmokratía literally meant the power or rule (kratos) of the people (dēmos). It referred to a specific constitution that a kind of government called a polis could have (Carey 2017, 1-3). The word polis simultaneously referred to (i) an urban centre in the sense of a settlement with more than 1,000 inhabitants in which administrative and judicial functions are based; (ii) the territory controlled by that urban centre, which typically includes various other settlements; and (iii) the political community that resides in both the urban centre and its surrounding territory (Hansen and Nielson 2004, 32-48; Hall 2013, 9). A polis was a democracy if it was ruled by all of its male citizens or at least the majority of its male citizens. The consequence of this is that poleis with fundamentally different systems of political decision-making could all be regarded as democracies if they were based on the rule of the dēmos (Raekstad 2020). Orators of the period typically added to this basic definition various political ideals, such as the notion that the polis was governed by laws that applied equally to all citizens, rather than the whims of a tyrant (Carey 2010, 25, 167-68). For the philosopher Aristotle, democracy necessarily involved the rule of a majority of citizens who were also poor in the sense of not owning substantial amounts of property (Aristotle 1995, 100-2, 139-41). The most famous example of ancient Greek democracy is 5th century BC Athens. All major political decisions were made by a simple majority vote of adult male citizens in a formal assembly called the ecclesia. These decisions were referred to as laws or decrees. Key polis officials were selected at random by lot. The actual majority of the population – women, slaves, children and foreigners – were excluded and lacked decision-making power in the assembly (Hansen 1991, 304-20). In less famous ancient Greek democracies male citizens merely elected government officials who wielded decision-making power and then held these government officials to account (ibid, 3; Aristotle 1995, 235-36). In total roughly half of ancient Greek poleis were democracies and these were usually what we call direct democracies like Athens (Hansen 2016, 49; Hansen and Nielson 2004, 1338-42).

During the American and French revolutions of the 18th century republics governed by elected representatives were founded. These governments claimed to be expressions of the will of the people. The rulers of this new system of government felt the need to distinguish it from ancient Athens. To this end, in 1788, the founding father and slave owner James Madison contrasted “a pure democracy, by which I mean a society consisting of a small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the government in person” with “a republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme of representation takes place”. For Madison, “the two great points of difference between a democracy and a republic are: first, the delegation of the government, in the latter, to a small number of citizens elected by the rest; secondly, the greater number of citizens, and greater sphere of country, over which the latter may be extended” (Hamilton et al 2009, 50-51). In 1794 the French revolutionary Maximilien Robespierre collapsed this distinction and argued that republics governed by representatives were democracies (Robespierre 1970, 34). This notion took decades to catch on and did not become a standard position until the 1830s and 1840s (Costopoulos and Rosanvallon 1995; Hansen 2016, 37). This can be seen by contrasting dictionaries. The 1828 edition of Webster’s dictionary only mentioned “government by the people” like “Athens”, in which “the supreme power is lodged in the hands of the people collectively, or in which the people exercise the powers of legislation” (Webster 1828). The 1890 edition, in comparison, specifically included both “government by the people” and “government by popular representation”. In the first form of democracy the people exercise power “directly” and in the second “indirectly” (Porter 1890, 388).

Occasionally anarchists critiqued direct legislation, which in the 19th and early 20th centuries referred to the rights of initiative and referendum. This meant that citizens were able to propose laws if they formed a sufficiently large number and vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to a policy being made law (Bakunin 1964, 219-220, 292; Kropotkin 2014, 164, 618, 621; Malatesta 2019, 98-103). During the early 1850s a few socialists, including Victor Considerant and Moritz Rittinghausen, intervened in political debates about France’s Second Republic by advocating the abolition of representative democracy in favour of “real democracy”, which was a government where the people ruled through “direct legislation” alone (Chambost 2018; Rubinelli 2024). They imagined that France could be divided into sections of a thousand citizens, who would meet and deliberate in local assemblies. These assemblies would either draft a new law or propose an amendment to an existing law. Once a proposed law or amendment had received a majority of votes at the sectional level, it would be sent to an administrative body called a ministry. The ministry would then ask all the other sectional assemblies to discuss and vote on the proposed law or amendment. Through this mechanism they believed it possible to scale face-to-face direct democracy up to the level of a large country (ibid, 794).[i] This directly democratic version of direct legislation did not become popular and only gained a few adherents like James Sullivan, who endorsed “pure democracy” in 1892 (Sullivan 1896, 5-7, 119-120). By the time that the anarchist movement had emerged, the mainstream advocates of direct legislation, which included state socialists and populists, framed it as a complement to the election of representatives into government and did not endorse pure democracy (Ellis 2023; Rubinelli 2024, 804. For primary sources see Liebknecht 1899, 6, 27; People’s Party 1970, 105-106; Taber 2021, 75; White 1910). This context is why Michael Bakunin, Peter Kropotkin, and Malatesta rejected direct legislation as part of a discussion of amendments to representative democracy, rather than proposals for direct democracy.

In the late 19th century the main example of direct legislation within a representative democracy was Switzerland. The government was a bicameral parliament composed of a lower house, an upper house, and an executive. In this respect it was a typical representative democracy. What was very unusual is that the country was also a federal republic composed of largely sovereign cantons with universal male suffrage. In addition to this the 1874 constitution stipulated that 50,000 male citizens could demand a revision to the constitution, which would then be decided by a national referendum. In a similar fashion 30,000 male citizens or eight cantons could demand that federal legislation be submitted to a national referendum (Grob 1875. See specifically articles 74, 89, and 120). One of the first Swiss cantons to implement an expansive version of direct legislation was Zurich in 1869. Its constitution not only gave citizens the power to initiate laws and constitutional amendments, but also required that laws passed by elected representatives in the legislature had to then be voted on in a referendum of male citizens. Two of the main creators of this constitution were the state socialists Karl Bürkli and Friedrich Albert Lange (Ellis 2023, 150). Lange regarded it as the “first attempt in history to install democracy on a more rational basis than by popular assemblies or parliaments” (Quoted in ibid, 150-151). It should therefore not be confused with the assembly based direct democracy of ancient Greece.

In September 1869 a few Swiss and German delegates, which included Bürkli and Rittinghausen, unsuccessfully attempted to persuade the Basel congress of the International Working Men’s Association to support direct legislation (ibid, 151; Bakunin 1973, 234-35). This led to anarchists explicitly rejecting the Zurich canton’s system of government. The Swiss anarchist James Guillaume regarded “direct legislation” as an attempt “to put the proletariat to sleep in order to distract it from revolutionary action” (Quoted in Chambost 2018, 114-115). In 1870 his comrade Bakunin argued that in Switzerland, where representatives were elected via universal male suffrage, “it is the bourgeoisie that governs, and it is the people, the workers, peasants included, who obey the laws made by the bourgeoisie” (Bakunin 1964, 218). He was not convinced that the implementation of referendums at a national level would fundamentally change this situation. He explained at length,

the Radical-Democrats of the Zurich canton devised and put into practice a new political system—the referendum, or direct legislation by the people. But the referendum itself is only a palliative, a new illusion, a falsehood. In order to vote, with full knowledge of the issue in question and with the full freedom required for it, upon laws proposed to the people or which the people themselves are induced to propose, it is necessary that the people have the time and the education needed to study those proposals, to reflect upon them, to discuss them. The people must become a vast Parliament holding its sessions in the open fields.

But this is rarely possible, and only upon grand occasions when the proposed laws arouse the attention and affect the interests of everyone. Most of the time the proposed laws are of such a specialized nature that one has to accustom oneself to political and juridical abstractions to grasp their real implications. Naturally they escape the attention and comprehension of the people, who vote for them blindly, believing implicitly their favorite orators. Taken separately, every one of those laws appears too insignificant to be of much interest to the masses, but in their totality they form a net which enmeshes them. Thus, in spite of the referendum, the so-called sovereign people remain the instrument and the very humble servant of the bourgeoisie.

We can well see then that in the representative system, even when improved upon with the aid of the referendum, popular control does not exist, and since no serious liberty is possible for the people without this control, we are driven to the conclusion that popular liberty and self-government are falsehoods (ibid, 219-220).

Anarchists continued to make this negative evaluation after Switzerland’s 1874 constitution was passed into law. Malatesta wrote in 1884 that, “there’s a republic in Switzerland, yet there is poverty, the Protestant and Catholic clergy rule the roost, and one cannot live in a city without a residence permit, and the free citizens of Switzerland trade their votes for a few glasses of beer!” (Malatesta 2014, 19). He observed in 1902 that “whether we are talking about feudal, monarchist Spain, or about France, Switzerland, or America—republican, democratic countries—always and everywhere the government massacres strikers” (ibid, 321. Also see Kropotkin 2014, 120-21; Malatesta 2016, 268; Malatesta 2023, 146; Spies 1886).

The anarchist objection to direct legislation did not only apply to bourgeois republics. In 1899 Malatesta rejected the goal of creating a socialist society in which there is a democratic government with “the revocability of the mandate and the referendum, meaning that voters are always free to remove their elected representative and nominate another, and that the laws passed by deputies are not valid until they have been approved by the people in a direct vote” (Malatesta 2019, 98). This is because the decisions made by such a government would be laws that are imposed on everyone within a society by institutionalised means of coercion, like the police, prisons, army, and legal system. The result is that people would be subject to the arbitrary power of an abstraction called ‘the general interest’, which in practice meant that “every liberty is stifled, and each person’s interests are sacrificed to the interests—political or otherwise—of those who are in power” (ibid, 101).

Nor were anarchists only against nation states that rule over an entire country. In 1891 Malatesta wrote that it was wrong for others to “think that Anarchists wish merely for a territorial decentralization, leaving the principle of government intact, and thus confounding Anarchy with cantonal or communal government” (Malatesta 2014, 112). This is why Kropotkin praised the 1871 Paris Commune for revolting against the French nation state, whilst also critiquing it for establishing a local representative government (Kropotkin 2014, 441-42, 445-46, 451-54). For Kropotkin “the failure of representative government within the Commune itself proved that self-government and self-administration must be carried further than in a merely territorial sense; to be effective they must also be carried into the various functions of life within the free community—representative government being as deficient in a city as it is in a nation” (Kropotkin 2019, 38). Kropotkin’s friend Élisée Reclus, who was a survivor of the Commune, lamented in 1880 that it had been insurrectional below, but governmental above (Fleming 1979, 109).

A similar critique was made by Malatesta, who described the Commune as “a government like all the rest” which produced “a great deal of declarations of principles, very advanced but never implemented” (Malatesta 2019, 242-43). In this respect Malatesta was correct. The Commune’s government was a converted municipal council composed of around sixty-five male delegates who had been elected via universal male suffrage. These delegates, unlike those in an anarchist organisation, wielded decision-making power and their decrees were enforced by a miniature coercive apparatus composed of mayors, police, and national guardsmen (Merriman 2014, 54-57; Tombs 1999, 73-75, 80-83, 86). This police force functioned like any other, despite the fact that the Blanquists in charge of it rebranded the Prefecture of Police as the Ex-Prefecture. In theory police officers would, like all public officials, be elected by male citizens and recalled if they did not perform their duties. In practice police commissioners were appointed by the Ex-Prefecture and not elected. The Commune’s Council issued a decree that banned prostitution and this led to the police arresting 270 sex workers. Other governmental measures included bans on begging, gambling, and serving alcohol to people who were already drunk. Such a law did not apply to the head of the police who was well known for his love of wine (Merriman 2014, 72-75, 83; Tombs 1999, 88-89).

So far it has been established that anarchist frequently critiqued the many different permutations of representative democracy. This included the proposal that direct legislation via the rights of referendum and initiative should be added to representative government in order to make it more democratic. It is much harder to find anarchists explicitly arguing against direct democratic governments that are ruled by a citizen assembly. In the 19th century the main example of this system of government that someone could be familiar with was ancient Athens. It is nonetheless very rare to even find anarchists discussing the topic. This is not because they were unfamiliar with classical antiquity. In 1867 Bakunin casually name-dropped the sixth century rulers of Lindos and Corinth (Bakunin 1980, 140-41) and noted that within “the republics of antiquity . . . the freedom of their citizens was founded upon the forced labor of slaves” (ibid, 107). Kropotkin read and cited books that discussed ancient Athenian democracy, such as Lewis Henry Morgan’s Ancient Society (Kropotkin 2006, 68n7; Morgan 1964, 213, 219). He even devoted an entire chapter of his final book Ethics: Origin and Development to ancient Greek views on morality and demonstrated a clear familiarity with the works of Plato and Aristotle (Kropotkin 1924, 84-113). As part of doing so he briefly mentioned the existence of ancient Greek democracies, “under which science, art, and philosophy reached a high stage of development” (ibid, 116. Also see Kropotkin 2018, 250, 253, 276). The same point was made by the anarchist geographer Reclus, who covered the history of ancient Greece in the second volume of his magnum opus Humanity and the Earth (Clark 2013, 61-62; Reclus 1905, 334).

There are two likely reasons why historical anarchist critiques of direct democracies in ancient Greece are so rare. Firstly, most anarchist theory was published in short articles and pamphlets that were read by workers. The general goal of this theory was to persuade workers to become anarchists and revolt against the ruling classes. Anarchist authors choose to explain why currently existing social structures should be abolished, rather than critiquing a system of government that was from thousands of years ago and no longer existed. This is no different to the fact that anarchists wrote numerous critiques of capitalist wage labour, but did not feel the need to write articles attacking the ancient Greek version of slavery. Secondly, anarchism as a social movement developed out of, among other things, radical republicanism, which aimed to abolish monarchies and replace them with democratic republics (Ravindranathan 1988; Pernicone 1993, 35-44). In parallel to these events anarchism also emerged in opposition to the first social democratic political parties, which advocated the creation of a workers’ or people’s state and the establishment of democracy across the different spheres of society, especially government and the economy (Liebknecht 1899, 3-8, 24, 49-52). This language was a continuation of an old socialist phrase from the 1840s: the universal democratic and social republic (MECW 7, 586; Lehning 1970, 172, 242). As a result, the development of anarchist theory was intertwined with the rejection of certain democratic ideas, including the goal of bourgeois representative democracy, a workers’ republic and so on. The need to combat these ideas continued over the following decades because republican and social democratic movements remained the main rivals to anarchism until the 1917 Russian revolution and the spread of various forms of Leninism. This explains why the word ‘democracy’ regularly appeared in anarchist critiques of republicans or social democrats, rather than articles about other topics.

Although anarchist authors focused on critiquing representative democracies, many of their objections also applied to direct democracies. One of the reasons why Malatesta rejected democracy was because really existing democratic governments are coercive organs through which a minority rules over and dominates the majority. He wrote in 1924 that, “it is easy to understand what has already been proved by universal historical experience: even in the most democratic of democracies it is always a small minority that rules and imposes its will and interests by force” (Malatesta 1995, 78). As a result “democracy is a lie, it is oppression and is in reality, oligarchy; that is, government by the few to the advantage of a privileged class” (ibid, 77). What historical experiences Malatesta probably had in mind can be gleamed from articles he wrote decades earlier. In 1884 he noted that,

There is a republic in America, and, for all her expanses of free land, for all her super-abundant production, there are people starving to death. They have a republic, but despite the freedom and equality written into the constitution, the poor man has no human dignity, and the cavalry uses its clubs or sabres to disperse workers clamoring for bread and jobs. They have their republic, but the native peoples are reduced to desperate straits and hunted down like wild animals… What am I saying? In America, as in Rome and in Greece before her, we have seen that the republic is compatible with slavery! (Malatesta 2014, 18)

This line of thinking was continued in another article that was published a few months later. Malatesta explained that, “in Greece, for instance, in order to deliver the greatest well-being to the people, they sought the best government, or ‘the government of the most.’ But in the end, it turned out that government is always government by the few and not by the best either but by scoundrels—whether monarchist, aristocratic, or democratic, it was still despotic or, to use a modern term, the business of the haves” (ibid, 23). Directly democratic Athens described itself as the rule of the majority or the people but in reality it was the rule of adult male citizens, who were a minority of the polis’ population, over the majority: slaves, foreigners, women, and children. Even within the assembly there were male citizens who had greater degrees of influence and power than others, such as Pericles.

A more detailed analysis of ancient Athenian democracy was made by Rudolf Rocker in his 1937 book Nationalism and Culture. He praised Athenian culture at length and claimed that “it was no accident that comedy and the drama reached their highest perfection just when the Athenian democracy was in fullest bloom” (Rocker 1937, 359). He believed that the “spirit of creative activity reached its high state of perfection in every city of Greece with the exception of Sparta, which never freed itself from the domination of the aristocracy, while all the other cities were finding the way to democracy” (ibid, 367). As part of this argument he connected the high quality of Greek architecture with the political form of the polis. He thought that,

Only in a country where the individual constantly took the liveliest kind of part in public affairs, and could easily keep track of those affairs, could architectonic skill reach such perfection. Among the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Persians and other peoples of antiquity, architecture as an art was limited to the palaces and tombs of the kings and the temples of the gods. Among the Greeks we first find it applied to all the purposes of public life and to personal use (ibid, 360).

These points underpinned his belief that the polis is superior to modern nation states. He argued that,

Since the area of the Greek municipality extended to only a few square miles every citizen was easily able to keep track of the entire public life and to form his own judgment about everything—a circumstance of great importance, which is utterly inconceivable in our modern state organization with the wide ramifications of its governmental machinery and the complicated gearing of its bureaucratic institutions. Hence the perplexed helplessness of the citizen of the modern state, his exaggerated overvaluation of governmental proclamations and of political leadership, which deprive him of all personal initiative. Since he is, of course, not in a position to keep track of all the fields of activity of the modern state and its internal and external policy, and is, on the other hand, so firmly convinced of the unalterable fixedness of all these functions that he believes he would sink into a bottomless quicksand if the political equilibrium were at all disturbed, his feeling of his own personal unimportance and dependence upon the state becomes strengthened, and his belief in the absolute necessity of political authority—which today is deeper seated in man than his belief in the authority of God—becomes deeper still. So, at best, he dreams only of a change of the persons at the head of the state and does not comprehend that all the inadequacies and evils of the political machine which constantly oppress him depend on the very existence of the state itself and hence always recur in any of the various forms it may assume.

Not so with the Greek. Since he could more easily get a view of the inner workings of the polis he was in a better position to pass judgment on the conduct of his leading men. He had their earthbound humanity always before his eyes and was the more interested in his own affairs because his intellectual agility was not crippled by blind faith in authority. In no country were the great men so exposed to the judgment of public opinion as in Greece at the time of its highest cultural development. Even the greatest and most undeniable merit afforded no protection in this regard. Men of the stature of a Miltiades, a Themistodes [two Athenian generals], had to experience this in their own persons (ibid, 366-367).

This high praise went alongside the acknowledgment of important negatives features of democratic Athens like slavery, the persecution of certain independent thinkers like Socrates, the corrupting effects of power, and imperialism (ibid, 352, 372-373). Similar criticisms were made by Reclus in his overview of ancient Greek history (Reclus 1905, 334-38).

The anarchist rejection of authoritarian direct democracies like ancient Athens, where male citizens gathered to pass decrees and laws in a formal assembly, should not be interpreted as a rejection of all assemblies. Anarchists were against government, authority, and domination. They were not opposed to people voluntarily meeting as equals in an assembly in order to engage in a collective process of deliberation and decision-making. They in fact advocated this as a form of anarchist organisation. The Spanish anarchist José Llunas Pujols wrote in 1882 that an anarchist association “meets in a general assembly once a week or more often, at which everything pertinent to its operations is decided” (Pujols 2005, 126). Another Spanish anarchist called José Monroy recalled that in the early 1900s at meetings of the local trade union section “we would submit ideas to the assembly, and the bad ideas would be thrown out” (Quoted in Mintz 2004, 27). Decades later the National Confederation of Labour (CNT), which was a Spanish anarcho-syndicalist trade union, proposed in its 1936 Zaragoza congress resolutions that collective decisions in an anarchist society would be made in “general assemblies”, “communal assemblies” and “popular assemblies” (Quoted in Peirats 2011, 103, 105, 107).

This language was not unique to Spanish anarchists and can be found across anarchist literature. In 1871 Bakunin praised “popular assemblies” and “general membership meetings” that had been called by construction workers in Geneva (Bakunin 1980, 247-48. For the context see Eckhardt 2016, 11-12). In 1874 Guillaume proposed that during a revolution workers “ought immediately to meet in general assembly” in order to organise the establishment of collective ownership (Guillaume 2005, 251-52). The attendees of Bakunin’s funeral in July 1876, which included notable anarchists like Adhémar Schwitzguébel, Guillaume, and Reclus, organised an “assembly” where they formulated and unanimously agreed to a resolution (Guillaume 2001, 51-52). In 1880 the Courtelary district of the Jura Federation proposed that,

Once trades bodies have been established, the next step is to organize local life. The organ of this local life is to be the federation of trades bodies and it is this local federation which is to constitute the future Commune. Will it be a general assembly of all inhabitants, or delegates from the trades bodies prior to referral to their particular assemblies, who will draw up the Commune’s contract? It seems puerile to us to stipulate preference for one arrangement or the other: the two arrangements no doubt will apply, according to the traditions and particular importance of the Communes (Schwitzguébel 2005, 291).

Malatesta claimed in 1884 that within a federation built on anarchist principles, congress resolutions are only binding on sections if “they have been approved by the assemblies of the sections” (Malatesta 2014, 64). In 1922 he predicted that during a revolution the distribution of scarce goods like food “would have to be made through decisions taken at popular assemblies and carried out by groups and individuals who have volunteered or are duly delegated” (Malatesta 2015, 121).

For Kropotkin the anarchist advocacy of assemblies was a continuation of previous forms of organisation that had emerged in popular movements. In his 1909 history of the 18th century French Revolution he wrote that in Paris, “the masses, accustoming themselves to act without receiving orders from the national representatives, were practising what was described later on as Direct Self-Government” (Kropotkin 1989, 183). This was achieved through the formation of, “the Commune of Paris” which “was not to be a governed State, but a people governing itself directly—when possible—without intermediaries, without masters” (ibid, 190). He claimed that “by acting in this way—and the libertarians would no doubt do the same today—the districts of Paris laid the foundations of a new, free, social organisation” (ibid, 186). Within the Commune “it was the General Assembly of the section, and not the elected Communal Council, which was to be the supreme authority for all that concerned the inhabitants of Paris. And if the sections decided to submit to the decision of a majority amongst themselves in general questions, they did not for all that abdicate either their right to federate by means of freely contracted alliances, or that of passing from one section to another for the purpose of influencing their neighbours’ decisions, and thus trying by every means to arrive at unanimity” (ibid, 190). From this he concluded that, “the principles of anarchism, expressed some years later in England by W. Godwin, already dated from 1789, and that they had their origin, not in theoretic speculations, but in the deeds of the Great French Revolution” (ibid, 184).

In 1913 Kropotkin wrote in Modern Science and Anarchy that the sections created by the Parisian masses in the French revolution were part of a tendency throughout history for “popular movements of an anarchist character” to emerge in response to domination by ruling minorities (Kropotkin 2018, 135-36. Also see ibid, 84). From such revolutionary experiments he concluded that,

Socialism, we have said, in whatever form it may arise during the events leading up to communism will therefore have to find its own form of political relations. It cannot utilise the old political forms, [just] as it cannot utilise religious hierarchy and its teachings, or imperial or dictatorial forms and their theories. In one way or another it will have to become more popular, closer to the assembly [forum], than representative government. It must be less dependent on representation and become more self-government, more government of each by themselves. This is what the proletariat of Paris sought to do in 1871; it is what the Sections of the Paris Commune and many smaller towns attempted to do in 1793–1794 (ibid, 187).

He thought that, “the free Commune—that is the political form that the social revolution must take” should learn lessons from these previous experiments and, unlike them, reject all systems of government in favour of “the free federation of communes” at a regional level and free “agreement between the different producer, consumer and other groups within the commune” at a local level (ibid, 159).

Myth Two: anarchists never advocated democracy prior to the new left of the 1960s.

The relationship between anarchism and democracy is actually far more complex. One of the main co-founders of the anarchist movement was Bakunin. Before he became an anarchist in 1868, he was a radical democrat for roughly twenty-seven years (Corrêa 2024, 475). In 1842 he came out in support of universal human emancipation, democracy, and a revolution that would overturn the existing order and create a fundamentally new kind of society. He predicted that this coming revolution would be launched by the people, in the sense of the poor and oppressed in general (Bakunin 1973, 39-40, 55-58). In 1843 he made it clear that by democracy he meant “the self-government of the people” (Quoted in Corrêa 2024, 153). In this period Bakunin was a radical republican in the French revolutionary tradition (ibid, 93). From 1845 onwards he added to this a support for national liberation movements within the Russian, Prussian, and Austrian empires and the commitment to creating a federation of Slavic republics (ibid, 163-166, 171-73, 193).

Bakunin was subsequently imprisoned for eight years and then exiled in Siberia for four years due to his participation in the 1848 revolutions and the 1849 Dresden uprising. In late 1861 he managed to escape and travel to London. In February 1862 he published a programme for democratic revolution in Russia, which was influenced by the Narodnik organisation Land and Freedom. It demanded the collective ownership of property, the national liberation of the Slavs, and the self-determination of peoples via autonomous communes (ibid, 186). He called this doctrine “Slavic socialism” (Quoted in ibid, 197n29). Its political structure was envisioned as “a peasant democracy . . . based on our self-administered rural community” in which “government, justice, and administration will be ensured by democratically elected officials”. These autonomous communes would then federate into provinces and ultimately countries with “an executive power, a judiciary, and the entire administrative hierarchy, with all their members also democratically elected” (Quoted in ibid, 231-232).

In 1866 Bakunin wrote a programme for a secret association known as the International Brotherhood or the International Fraternity. Within it he argued that abolishing the nation state was necessary to achieve democracy. He argued that “the programme” of global revolution “can be none other than that of democratic and social revolution” (Bakunin 1973, 86). For Bakunin, “the aim of democratic and social revolution” included the abolition of capitalism and “the complete emancipation of individuals and associations from the yoke of divine and human authority, the absolute destruction of all compulsory unions and amalgamations of communes into provinces, provinces and conquered lands into the State, and lastly the radical dissolution of the centralist, custodial, authoritarian State, with all its military, bureaucratic, administrative, judicial and civil institutions. In other words, the restoration of liberty to allindividuals, collective bodies, associations, communes, provinces, regions and nations alike—and mutual safeguard of that liberty through federation” (ibid, 86. Also see ibid, 65-67, 78-83). Bakunin was nonetheless not yet an anarchist and so still advocated a system of decentralised “government” in which autonomous communes voluntarily federated to form provincial, national, and international parliaments that had accompanying legal and tax systems (ibid, 69-76).

In September 1867 Bakunin attended the founding congress of the League of Peace and Freedom, which aimed to unite supporters of free democracy in order to help prevent war and forge a United States of Europe. It generally adhered to bourgeois, liberal, and republican ideas. Bakunin attempted to intervene in this congress by spreading socialist views, including the goal of abolishing the centralised state and replacing it with the free federation of communes (Carr 1975, 327-31). The congress ended with a banquet, during which Bakunin proposed the following toast: “the League and its future congresses which, by developing its principles and by uniting more and more closely republicans scattered throughout the world, will hasten the coming of true democracy by federalism, socialism, and anti-theologism” (Quoted in Carr 1975, 332).

In June or July 1868 Bakunin joined the Geneva section of the International Workingmen’s Association (Carr 1975, 337). Around the same time he co-founded a Russian-language journal called Narodnoye Delo (The Cause of the People). The first issue appeared on 1st September and featured a statement of principles called “Program of Russian Socialist Democracy”, which called for the abolition of the state and the establishment of the free association of producers (Bakunin 2016a; Guillaume 2001, 35; McClellan 2022, 12-16). Bakunin forwarded a copy of this programme to the secretariat of the International’s Brussels Congress, which was held a few days later (Carr 1975, 338-339). During this period Bakunin was also identifying as an anarchist. He first publicly called himself an “anarchist” in September 1867 in “The Slavic Question,” which was printed in the Italian paper Libertà e Giustizia (Freedom and Justice). He wrote in response to Pan-Slavists that “they are unitarians at all costs, always preferring public order to freedom and I am an anarchist and prefer freedom to public order (Quoted in Eckhardt 2016, 453n47). Whilst preparing Narodnoye Delo for publication he wrote to a German friend, “we are Federalists, and, as Proudhon said, Anarchists, and above all Socialists” (Quoted in McClellan 2022, 13).

In late September Bakunin attended the second congress of the League of Peace and Freedom and, once again, attempted to persuade the League to adopt socialist principles. This plan failed and, on the 25th September, he and fourteen other congress participants quit the League. The letter of protest he handed in referred to the signatories as “social democrats” (Carr 1975, 340-44). Bakunin later claimed that he persuaded this group to join the International and form a new organisation in order to maintain their connections with one another. At the meeting there was a disagreement between the French and Italians, who wanted to create a secret and a public organisation, and Bakunin, who only wanted there to be a secret organisation. Bakunin was in the minority and so two organisations were founded, one public and the other secret. At this meeting it was decided that the organisations should be called the International Alliance of Socialist Democracy and a programme was adopted, which was based on a draft written by Bakunin (Eckhardt 2016, 2-3; Lehning 1974, 73). The programme of the secret Alliance advocated the “demolition of all religious, monarchic, aristocratic and bourgeois authorities and powers in Europe” and so the “destruction of all present-day States together with all their political, judicial, bureaucratic and financial institutions” (Bakunin 1973, 173). A much lengthier programme drafted by Bakunin in 1868 described itself as an expansion of “the programme of the International Alliance of Socialist Democracy” that clarified “the questions of woman, the religious and juridical family and the state, in the Russian social democratic programme” (Bakunin 1973, 166).

In early 1869 Guillaume asked Bakunin, who he had met for the first time in January, to write for his paper Le Progrès (Progress). Bakunin misunderstood this proposal and incorrectly thought Guillaume was suggesting that the paper become the official organ of the Alliance. In his reply Bakunin wrote, “Yes, let Progrès become the journal of the Alliance. For the words ‘Organ of the Democrats of Le Locle’ just substitute ‘Organ of Social Democracy’ (Quoted in Carr 1975, 358). In June Bakunin endorsed, within an article that was published in L’Égalité (Equality), “the party of socialist democracy, the International Working-Men’s Association” (Bakunin 1985, 86). He followed this up with another article in July, which described the programme of the International as “the reversal of all bourgeois politics, the point where socialist democracy is absolutely and definitively separated from the exclusively political democracy of the Bourgeois” (ibid, 90). By socialist democracy Bakunin did not mean representative democracy or any system of government. He was clear that the International “rejected all bourgeois, monarchical, liberal, or even radical democratic politics” and aimed to create “a force able to struggle against and triumph over the coalition of all privileged classes and all States” (ibid, 90, 92). Elsewhere he argued that a democratic state is a contradiction in terms because “where all rule, there are no more ruled, and there is no State” (Bakunin 1964, 223. He repeated this point in 1873. See Bakunin 1990, 178). In October Bakunin wrote a letter to the editors of Le Réveil (The Awakening). This letter was envisioned as the first chapter of a planned but never completed book he titled “Profession of Faith of a Russian Socialist Democrat” (Carr 1975, 369; Bakunin 1911, 239). Lastly, in a February 1870 letter to the Alliance member Albert Richards he said that the development of collective power was “the true guarantee for the triumph of democracy” (Bakunin 1980, 385. For an alternative translation see Bakunin 2017).

From the above evidence it is clear that Bakunin, one of the co-founders of the anarchist movement, initially viewed himself as a socialist democrat who advocated the abolition of the state and used this language for at least three years. In response it is sometimes suggested that the only reason why Bakunin labeled the organisation he co-founded in September 1868 the Alliance of Socialist Democracy is because he thought this name would increase the odds of the group being accepted into the International by Marx, who was a member of the general council. This narrative is purely speculative and is not supported by primary sources. The available evidence indicates that: (1) Bakunin advocated the goal of socialist democracy before he personally joined the International in June/July 1868, let alone when the Alliance was founded in late September; (2) he referred to himself as a socialist democrat in public and private contexts that had no connection to Marx; and (3) Bakunin wanted the Alliance to be a secret group, rather than a section of the International. Unfortunately Bakunin’s twenty-eight page account of the founding of the Alliance and its initial activity has been lost. As a result, certain questions cannot be answered definitively (Bakunin 2016b, 142-43; Bakunin 1913, 152-53). All the surviving primary sources do nonetheless point in one direction: the main reason why Bakunin adopted the label of socialist democracy is that he was a radical democrat for several decades and then became an anarchist in 1868. The language of democracy carried over and he continued to use it in his earliest anarchist texts.

This was not a unique pattern. In November 1868 a member of the Alliance named Giuseppe Fanelli travelled to Spain and gave a series of talks about socialism to republican workers in Barcelona and Madrid. He also distributed socialist literature, including the rules of the International and several Swiss workers’ associations, various Internationalist newspapers, Bakunin’s speeches at the League of Peace and Freedom, and the programme of the Alliance. This led to a wave of organising that eventually resulted in the formation of a group of dedicated anarchist militants in April 1870 and the Spanish regional federation of the International in June. The name of the organisation of dedicated militants was borrowed from Bakunin: The Alliance of Socialist Democracy. The Spanish section of the International continued to recruit republicans to socialism over the following months, especially in the aftermath of the Paris Commune (Eckhart 2016, 153-159; Esenwein 1989, 11-21; Garcia-Balañà 2018). These three influences – the International, Bakunin’s early rendition of anarchist socialism, and federal republicanism – significantly shaped how ideas were expressed in the Spanish section. This is why the September 1871 congress resolutions of the Valencia Conference declared that,

Seeing that the true meaning of the word ‘Republic’ is ‘the public thing’, that is what belongs to the collectivity and involves the collective property;

That ‘democracy’ means the free exercise of individual rights, which is not practicable except under Anarchy, that is to say by the abolition of the political and juridical States in the place of which it will be necessary to constitute workers’ States the functions of which will be simply economic;

That man’s rights cannot be subjected to laws for they are indefeasible and unalienable;

That in consequence the Federation must simply have an economic character;

The Conference of the workers of the Spanish region of the Workers International gathered in Valencia declares: That the true democratic and federal republic is the collective property, Anarchy and the economic Federation, that is to say the free universal federation of free associations of agricultural and industrial workers (Quoted in Leval 1975, 22-23).

To a modern reader these resolutions sound extremely paradoxical and self-contradictory. It should be kept in mind that the people who founded the anarchist movement within the International initially advocated, to quote Bakunin at the 1869 Basel congress, “the destruction of all national and territorial states, and the foundation upon their ruins of the International Working-Men’s State” (Bakunin 1985, 132). The free association of producers was called a workers’ state because some socialists borrowed a strange definition of the term from Pierre-Joseph Proudhon’s work in the 1850s and early 1860s (Wilbur 2013). The 1867 Lausanne congress resolutions on collective ownership refer to state ownership, but the state in question is actually just an association of individuals who have no powers superior to the individual and no interests apart from society (Archer 1997, 101). As the anarchist movement fully emerged the goal of collective ownership by the associated producers continued to be advocated but was no longer called a state. Even the words ‘anarchist’ and ‘anarchism’ took years to be adopted and co-existed with a wide variety of other labels that have since fallen out of use, such as collectivist, revolutionary socialist, autonomist, social revolutionary, and (lest it be forgotten) socialist democrat (Baker 2023, 24, 29-39). Such democratic language did not catch on among anarchists and by 1872 Bakunin had abandoned it. This can be seen in the fact that when he founded a new organisation, which he viewed as the successor to the original Alliance, he decided to name it the Alliance of Social Revolutionaries. In one source he claimed that this name change occurred in response to German state socialists using the term ‘Social Democratic’ for the party they formed in 1869 (Bakunin 1990, 235-36n134; Eckhardt 2016, 355).

The language of democracy was used by at least one group affiliated with the Anti-Authoritarian International, which was a majority anarchist organisation that also contained a few state socialists. In 1876 Greek revolutionary socialists founded the “Democratic Club of Patras”, which was represented at the Anti-Authoritarian International’s Berne congress by the Italian anarchist Andrea Costa (Pomonis 2004, 4-5). After the congress the Democratic Club accepted all the congress resolutions and wrote a letter which claimed “we are persuaded that our ideas and the principles of your program are in total harmony” and desire “to come into closer contact with you, since we believe that our solidarity will result in the triumph of our common ideas” (Quoted in ibid, 5). In 1877 a federation was formed called the Democratic League of the People, which described itself as “socialist” and an “enemy of all politicians” (Quoted in ibid, 6). On 8th April 1877 the Bulletin of the anarchist Jura Federation published an article by Dionysis Ambelicopoulos titled “Study on Socialism in Greece”. In the essay Ambelicopoulos, who was a founding member of the Democratic Club, wrote,

The Greek people have named the regime that in the West is called Republique, Constitution. As far as the constitution goes, we are equally advanced as Switzerland, America or France. Universal suffrage, for instance, has long ago been established in Greece.

We deem it superfluous to remind that universal [suffrage] has not brought about the expected results. On the contrary, corruption was legitimised (despite the fact that there is no aristocracy in our country and despite the fact that the clergy is on our side), because elections take place in the shadow of the bayonets and are decided by the many governmental machinations.

The people are not favorably inclined towards the constitution, it is only the bourgeois who label themselves “constitutionalists”, just like in the West they call themselves “republicans”. Consequently, the Greek people, politically speaking, grasp the new ideas.

What in the West is called communism or socialism, the Greek people express it using the term Democracy, rule of the People. It is exactly the same thing that Thucydides expressed in the speech he attributed to Athenagoras of Syracuse. Modern Greeks speak exactly the same way (Quoted in ibid, 8-9).

In May 1877 the Patris Democratic Club published the first issue of their paper Elliniki Dimokratia (Hellenic Democracy). The programme of the paper endorsed universal human emancipation, economic equality, direct action, and revolution. Their goal was the creation of a “Democratic Regime” in which there was (a) “total decentralisation and perfect self-administration of the Municipalities, i.e. every Municipality to be totally independent and self ruled”; (b) “total freedom of the human being”; and (c) “every authority to be submitted directly to the rule of the people” (Quoted in ibid, 11). The Democratic Club of Patras is typically referred to as the first anarchist group in Greece. It is true that the group was interconnected with international anarchist networks, submitted articles to anarchist publications, and embraced several key anarchist ideas, especially on the topic of strategy. Despite this fact they were not strictly speaking anarchists due to their view that authority should be controlled by the people, rather than abolished. This can be seen by contrasting the language of the Democratic Club with the League of Anarchist Workers of Athens, who in 1900 rejected “anything that could be construed as a government, as authority” (Quoted in ibid, 22). It does nonetheless highlight the extent to which the emergence of anarchism in Greece was intertwined with the history of radical democracy. In this respect it is the same as Spain and Italy.

Over the following decades anarchists used the word democracy to refer to systems of organisation that are incompatible with anarchism: majority government and majority rule. From at least 1917 onwards a minority of authors started using democratic language to refer to old anarchist ideas. This seems to have occurred due to, among other factors, the large impact that the soviets and workers’ councils from the Russian and German revolutions had on the anarchist imagination (Berry 2009, 36-77). In August 1917 the Russian anarchist paper Golos Truda (The Voice of Labour) referred to the soviets as “the only possible form of non-party organization of the ‘revolutionary democracy’” and the only instruments to achieve the “decentralization and diffusion of power” (Quoted in Avrich 2005, 140). The co-editor of this paper was the anarcho-syndicalist Gregori Maximoff. In 1927 he wrote that “true democracy, developed to its logical extreme, can become a reality only under the conditions of a communal confederation. This democracy is Anarchy” (Maximoff 2015, 38). On another occasion Maximoff declared that “Anarchism is, in the final analysis, nothing but democracy in its purest and most extreme form” (Maximoff 1988, 19). Maximoff was an extremely well-known figure within the anarchist movement. He wrote one of the best known anarchist histories of the Russian revolution, was editor of five anarchist periodicals, and compiled an important Bakunin anthology (Rocker 1964, 26).

Maximoff was not the only influential person to adopt this language. In 1932 the Spanish anarcho-syndicalist Isaac Puente wrote that within a libertarian communist society “organised without the state and without private ownership” workplace and community associations with general assemblies would “run on federal and democratic principles” and “be sovereign in their decision making, without being beholden to any higher body, their only obligation being to federate one with another as dictated by the economic requirement for liaison and communications bodies organised in industrial federations” (Puente 1932).[ii] In 1935 Christiaan Cornelissen wrote in the anarchist periodical Vanguard that “the libertarian communists favor a democratic order directed from the bottom up, in which each individual maintains his liberty of thought and action” (Cornelissen 1935, 7). A 1937 article in Vanguard by the anonymous authors S.M. and R.W. described an anarchist communist society as one in which “democracy is therefore maximised and made an active process” (S.M. and R.W. 1937, 13). Although Vanguard is barely remembered today, at the time it was one of the main English language anarchist periodicals in the world. This is demonstrated by the fact that it published contributions by very famous anarchists like Goldman and Rocker, was in print for seven years, and had a peak circulation of 3,000 to 4,000 subscribers (Cornell 2011, 284-289).

In 1936 the Spanish anarcho-syndicalist Diego Abad de Santillán wrote that, “after the Revolution we will have factory, shop or industrial Councils, constituted of workers, clerks, and technicians in representation of the personnel of the enterprise, who will have the right to moderate and revoke their delegates. No one knows better than the workers themselves the capacity of each one in a determined establishment. There, where everybody knows everybody, the practice of democracy is possible” (Santillán 1937).[iii] In 1938 the Ukrainian anarchist Ida Mett, who was one of the co-authors of the Platform, claimed that “anarchism had an influence on the Kronstadt insurrection to the extent that it advocated the idea of proletarian democracy” (Mett 2018, 372). That year the Friends of Durruti Group in Spain proposed that “members of the revolutionary council will be elected by democratic vote in the union organisations” (Friends of Durruti Group 1978, 42).[iv] In 1939 Vernon Richards wrote in the British anarchist periodical Revolt, which he co-founded and edited, that “true democracy—Free Socialism—can only exist when the workers are strong enough (and we speak internationally) to control their own economic and social lives” (Richards 1939, 1).

The language of democracy was also used by the Indian anarchist M.P.T Archarya. In 1927 he claimed that “Anarchist Socialists” believe “that socialism can only be without rulerships of any kind by a part of mankind—however vast a part that be—over the rest, and therefore the abolition and prevention of every rule by man over man is the first condition of realizing Socialism, equality, democracy, brotherhood, and oneness” (Archarya 2019, 62). A year later he described his vision of a future society based on the principles of “non-violent economics”. He advocated “the establishment of locally independent society within which each member will be equal to another member and will represent himself instead of being represented by somebody else and ordered from above. It is only in ‘autonomous communes’ of this kind that social solidarity and social work is possible and that universal ‘democracy’ can be ensured and maintained to an equal degree. It is only thus that the energy of all members of the whole society can be liberated and directed into social and international channels—bringing pleasure and prosperity to each and all. All control and government authority of any kind will thus become superfluous” (ibid, 78). In 1948 he wrote that “the anarchists want freedom, democracy, and socialism. But they consider—nay, are convinced, these cannot be obtained or maintained under state protection or direction. The states are therefore the enemies of freedom, democracy, and socialism” (ibid, 195).

From these examples, which probably only scratch the surface of the total number that are scattered across anarchist periodicals, it is clear that several influential anarchists used democratic language to describe a stateless classless society without authority and did so decades prior to the emergence of the new left. In so doing they were not endorsing democracy in the distinct sense of majority government or majority rule and so remained committed to anarchism.[v]

Myth Three: anarchists only use consensus decision-making and have always rejected majority voting as a form of majority rule.

This is false. A huge number of anarchists saw no contradiction between their rejection of majority government/majority rule and their use of majority voting within free associations. This is because it was only a mechanism through which a group could voluntarily select a course of action, resolve a dispute, allocate tasks, or record opinions, rather than a form of authority, domination, or rulership. Majority voting is in fact as old an anarchist method of decision-making as the anarchist movement itself. It was used in three main contexts: (1) decisions within a local group; (2) decisions at the congresses or plenums of regional and national federations; and (3) decisions at international congresses, which were either organised by international federations or were loose gatherings of anarchists from different countries.

Within this section I shall provide a brief and condensed history of anarchist majority voting across these three main contexts. Before I do so, it is necessary to clarify that anarchist proponents of majority voting were not a monolith. How majority voting was used and what purposes it served varied according to both the beliefs of the anarchists in question and the situation in which they acted. Anarchists could have different views on the topic depending upon the kind of association (mass organisation composed of workers in general like a trade union, specific anarchist organisation composed exclusively of dedicated anarchist militants, affinity group, intentional community, associations of production and consumption etc); the organisational level the decision was being made at (local, regional, national, international); and what was being decided (direct action like strikes, the construction of a railway, the agenda of a meeting, selection and mandating of delegates, how the association was structured and what its statutes were, congress resolutions etc). When interpreting what a historical anarchist thought about majority voting, it is extremely important to keep in mind which of these domains they are talking about.

Influential co-founders of the anarchist movement, including Bakunin, Jean-Louis Pindy, Schwitzguébel, and Guillaume, participated as delegates in the 1869 Basel congress of the International. They did not (to my knowledge) object to the fact that resolutions were passed via an absolute majority of votes (Graham 2016, 117-124). Bakunin’s speech at the congress instead gave reasons for why other delegates should vote as he did (Bakunin 1985, 131-33). Majority voting was also used at local and regional meetings. In May 1869 more than one hundred and fifty members of the International’s sections in the Jura region of Switzerland met at a general assembly. Notable participants included Bakunin, Guillaume, Schwitzguébel, and Fritz Heng, who was the secretary of the Alliance. The gathered members adopted a number of resolutions that contained core anarchist ideas, like the rejection of electoral politics (Bakunin 1985, 83; Jura Federation 1873, 58; Eckhardt 2016, 16). These resolutions were mostly “approved unanimously bar three votes” or “bar two votes” (Jura Delegates 2015, 167-68). Bakunin personally thought that within the Alliance members should “consult each other, reaching, as far as possible, unanimous resolutions” (Quoted in Corrêa 2025, 420) If a unanimous agreement could not be reached then, depending on the situation, a decision would be made via majority vote (ibid). In April 1870 a general assembly of the Geneva section of the Alliance, which was attended by Bakunin, decided that the group would try to attend the congress of the Romance federation and elected a delegate to do so. The minutes state that these two decisions were put “to the vote” and “accepted by the majority”. Other decisions were supported unanimously, such as a proposal to collect money for striking workers (The Alliance of Socialist Democracy 2015, 176-77).

The same system of collective decision-making was used by the Spanish section of the International, which was the largest section of the organisation. The location of its founding congress was decided by a majority vote, with 10,030 out of 15,215 ballots choosing Barcelona. The congress was held in June 1870 and attended by 90 delegates representing over 150 sections with a total membership of 40,000 people. It adopted a resolution against electoral politics via majority vote. This report, which was approved by fifty-five out of seventy-four votes, was a key moment in the establishment of the anarchist movement in Spain (Eckhardt 2016, 159-164). Members of the Spanish Alliance claimed that within the Spanish section of the International they had “always discussed at length all its resolutions and that without consultation between the sections and the vote of the majority nothing apart from the common good has been put into practice” (Quoted in ibid, 257). The anarchist delegates who attended the Hague congress of the International on behalf of the Spanish section were selected and mandated via a majority vote involving thousands of workers (ibid, 273).

At the September 1872 Hague congress a series of majority votes passed resolutions that expelled Bakunin and Guillaume from the International, relocated the general council from London to New York, and committed the organisation to the goal of constituting the working class into a political party aimed at the conquest of political power. The majority of delegates who passed these resolutions did not actually represent the opinions of the organisation at large and had been deliberately fabricated by Marx and Engels in order to achieve their goals (Berthier 2015, 73-75; Eckhardt 2016, 283-352; Graham 2015, 187–92). The Hague’s resolutions were subsequently rejected by most of the International’s sections on the grounds that they had been passed by a fake majority and violated each section’s autonomy to determine its own strategy and program (Berthier 2015, 75; Eckhardt 2016, 357–68, 383–97; Graham 2015, 199). In the immediate aftermath of the Hague congress, delegates representing the Spanish, French, Italian, Jura, and American sections of the International met at a congress in Saint-Imier, Switzerland in order to reconstitute the International on its original federalist basis. It is often regarded as the moment that the anarchist movement was founded. One of their chief concerns was ensuring that nothing like a general council could ever again impose its views onto the federation’s sections. At the Anti-Authoritarian International’s 1873 congress delegates adopted the following statutes which every section was expected to follow. They declared that,

  1. Sections and Federations forming the Association preserve their complete autonomy, that is to say their right to organise themselves as they see fit, to administer their own affairs, without any outside interference and to choose for themselves the path they intend to take, to achieve Labour’s freedom.
  2. A General Congress of the Association shall meet each year, on the first Monday in September.
  3. Each section, whatever the number of its members, has the right to send a delegate to the General Congress.
  4. The role of Congress is to be a meeting place for workers of various countries to present their aspirations, and through discussion to bring them into harmony. At the opening of congress each Regional Federation shall present a report on the development of the Association in the past year. Except for matters of administration, there will be no recourse to voting; questions of principle cannot be subject to a vote. General Congress decisions are mandatory only for those Federations that accept them.
  5. Voting at a General Congress will be by Federation, each Regional Federation having one vote.
  6. Each year Congress will give the responsibility for the organisation of the following year’s Congress to a Regional Federation. The Federation so mandated will serve as the Federal Bureau of the Association. Any section of federation wishing matters to be placed on the agenda of Congress should address these to it three months in advance so that all Regional Federations are made aware of them. Moreover, the Federal Bureau may serve as an intermediary between federations for matters brought to its attention: general correspondence, statistics and strikes.
  7. Congress will itself designate the city where the next congress is to be held. On the date appointed for Congress delegates will come together in regular fashion on the day and place appointed without there being a need for any special notification.
  8. In the course of a year, at the initiative of a section or federation, a vote of Regional Federations may change the place and date of a General Congress or convene an Extraordinary Congress, in the light of events.
  9. Whenever a new Regional Federation seeks to become a member of the Association, at least three months before the General Congress, it should announce this intention to whatever Federation is acting as the Federal Bureau. The latter will make this known to all Regional Federations and these will have to decide whether or not to accept the new federation, and accordingly it will mandate its delegates to the General Congress, which in the last instance will decide (Anti-Authoritarian International 2015, 185-186).

Anarchists continued to endorse the use of majority voting after the emergence of the anarchist movement. The 1877 statutes of a German anarchist communist group claimed that decisions like the passing of motions, the admission and expulsion of members, and the election of delegates will be made via “a simple majority of the written votes” (Quoted in Carlson 1972, 403). In 1882 an anarchist club was founded in Boston. Its statutes declared that, “the chairperson and secretary will be elected from the members by majority vote” and “all issues before the Club, regarding both matters of business and of principles, will be decided by majority vote” (Quoted in Lipotkin 2019, 277). This perspective was echoed by some of the most influential anarchist theorists. In 1884 Malatesta wrote that in an anarchist society “everything is done to reach unanimity, and when this is impossible, one would vote and do what the majority wanted, or else put the decision in the hands of a third party who would act as arbitrator” (Malatesta n.d., 30).[vi] The same combination of unanimous agreement and majority voting was advocated by the Spanish anarcho-syndicalist Isaac Puente in 1933 (Puente n.d., 2).

In 1907 Malatesta distinguished between two forms of anarchist majority voting. He argued that,

The vote that anarchists reject, that they must reject unless they contradict themselves, is the vote by which they renounce their own sovereignty, the vote that gives the majority the right to impose their will upon the minority, the vote that is used to make and justify the law.

But the vote used to record opinions certainly has nothing anti-­anarchist about it, just as the vote is not anti-anarchist when it is only a practical and freely accepted means to resolve practical issues that do not allow for multiple solutions at the same time, and when the minority is not obliged to submit to the majority, if this does not suit or please them (Malatesta 2023, 258-259).

A few more concrete examples of these two forms of anarchist majority voting – recording opinions and resolving a practical dispute by choosing a course of action – are as follows. In 1898 the Italian Right to Existence Group held a special meeting to decide who would be the editor of their newspaper La Questione Sociale (The Social Question). Eighty members voted to replace the current editor Giuseppe Ciancabilla, who had fundamentally different views to the group as a whole, with Malatesta. Only three members opposed the decision. As a result Malatesta was made editor of the newspaper via a majority vote. Since the group was a free association, the three dissenting members immediately left and founded a new paper (Zimmer 2015, 58-59). In this example majority voting was used to a select a single course of action because it was not possible for everyone’s opinion to be implemented at once. At the same time the result of this decision was that a specific task, editing a paper, was allocated by the group to an individual.

One of the main contexts where anarchist decision-making appears in the historical record is anarchist talks that turned into meetings which approved a resolution. For example, it was reported in 1901 that after lectures by Louise Michel and Malatesta, which were attended by 300 people, “the event, spontaneously transformed into a political meeting, unanimously and to clamorous applause approved a resounding protest agenda, formulated by the comrades” (Malatesta 2023, 63). On other occasions majority voting was used. In 1899 anarchists organised an anti-war event in the English town of Leeds, during which nine anarchists gave talks. At this event a crowd of 2,000 people adopted a resolution against imperialism via majority vote. Sixteen people voted against it (Quail 1978, 218). Other sources do not stipulate how a proposal was adopted. A 1912 police report noted that “Malatesta and the English anarchist P. E. Tanner proposed, and the assembly approved, a protest agenda, for the immediate liberation of the known Maria Rygier from the Italian prisons” (Malatesta 2023, 355).

The other main context where resolutions were passed was congresses. These generally embodied the federalist principles that anarchists had previously adopted within the Anti-Authoritarian International. In 1907 anarchist delegates attended the International Anarchist Congress in Amsterdam, which was a loose gathering of anarchists from different countries. On the first day of the congress there was a disagreement about the agenda. One faction proposed that the topic of anti-militarism should be removed from the agenda and that it should instead be discussed at the separate congress of the International Antimilitarist Association. The other faction disagreed. They argued that the anarchists would have to formulate a position on anti-militarism at their anarchist congress before they attended a distinct congress attended by people who were not anarchists. The first proposal received thirty-three votes and the second thirty-eight votes. As a result, the second position won the vote and the congress made the collective decision to include anti-militarism on its agenda (Antonioli 2009, 36-37; Malatesta 2023, 258). Majority voting was, just like in the Anti-Authoritarian International, used to settle administrative issues.

At the end of the congress a series of resolutions were also adopted by the delegates. In order for a resolution to be passed it had to receive a majority of votes. The proposed resolution on alcohol consumption was opposed by almost every delegate in attendance and so was not adopted by the congress (ibid, 150-52). Majority voting was therefore used to make a collective decision – whether or not to adopt a resolution. The resolutions that passed this threshold in turn functioned as a record of what most of the delegates thought and were not automatically binding on every anarchist in attendance or the groups they represented. As the Dutch delegate Cornelissen explained, “voting is to be condemned only if it binds the minority. This is not the case here, and we are using the vote as an easy means of determining the size of the various opinions that are being confronted” (ibid, 91). In total four slightly different resolutions on syndicalism and the general strike were adopted by the congress. This was possible because they each received a majority of votes. To quote the congress minutes, “the reader may be rather surprised that these four motions could have all been passed, given the evident contradictions between them. It defies the parliamentary norm, but it is a conscious transgression. In order that the opinion of the majority not suffocate, or seem to suffocate, that of the minority, the majority presented the single motions one by one for vote. All four had a majority of votes for. In consequence, all four were approved” (ibid, 135).

The largest anarchist organisations in history have been anarcho-syndicalist trade unions. These mass organisations generally made decisions via majority voting. As the anarcho-syndicalist José Peirats explained, within the CNT,

The unions constitute autonomous units, linked to the ensemble of the Confederation only by the accords of a general nature adopted at national congresses, whether regular or extraordinary. Apart from this commitment, the unions, right up to their technical sections, are free to reach any decision which is not detrimental to the organization as a whole. There are no exceptions to this principle and it can be stated that it is the unions which decide and directly regulate the guidelines of the Confederation.

At all times, the basis for any local, regional, or national decision is the general assembly of the union, where every member has the right to attend, raise and discuss issues, and vote on proposals. Resolutions are adopted by majority vote attenuated by proportional representation.

Extraordinary congresses are held on the suggestion of the assembled unions. Even the agenda is devised by the assemblies where the items on the agenda are debated and delegates appointed as the executors of their collective will. This federalist procedure, operating from the bottom up, constitutes a precaution against any possible authoritarian degeneration in the representative committees (Peirats 2011, 5).

In 1947 Peirats was himself elected as the general secretary of the CNT in exile by a majority vote (Ealham 2015, 142). The CNT’s system of majority voting was explained in more detail within the organisation’s constitution, which was printed on the trade union’s membership card. It declared that “anarcho-syndicalism and anarchism recognize the validity of majority decisions. The militant has a right to his own point of view and to defend it, but he is obliged to comply with majority decisions, even when they are against his own feelings. . . We recognize the sovereignty of the individual, but we accept and agree to carry out the collective mandate taken by majority decision. Without this there is no organisation” (quoted in Peirats 1974, 19). The use of majority voting was regarded as practically necessary given the requirements of organising effective strikes and the massive size of the CNT. For example, the CNT’s December 1919 congress was attended by over 400 delegates, who represented 756,101 workers, of whom 699,369 were affiliated. At this congress a resolution about a rival union was adopted with 325,995 votes in favour and 169,225 votes against. Other delegates choose to abstain. A proposed change to the organisational structure of the CNT was rejected by an overwhelmingly one-sided majority vote, with 651,431 votes against and 14,008 votes in favour (Smith 2007, 313-314).

Spanish anarchists also participated in smaller trade union federations like the Regional Metalworkers’ Federation in Catalonia. This anarchist influence led to the federation adopting a resolution that rejected state intervention in industrial disputes and supported direct action at its April 1914 congress. This resolution was passed with a majority vote of ten delegates in favour and four opposed. At the time the organisation had 1,500 members (ibid, 207, 212). The same principles of collective decision making were used in other contexts. Between 30th April and 2nd May 1915 an international peace conference was held in the city of Galicia. At the conference, which was attended by delegates representing both anarchist groups and trade unions that anarchists participated in, a dispute arose between a minority of delegates who called for a spontaneous revolutionary general strike to be launched and a more cautious majority. The result was that the majority of delegates successfully passed a resolution that only called for protest meetings to be held in Spain, whilst also acknowledging that workers should organise a general strike against the war where this was possible (ibid, 273).

The use of majority voting was not unique to Spanish anarcho-syndicalism. In 1911 the Workers’ Federation of the Uruguayan Region (FORU) adopted new statutes at its third congress. It was agreed that delegates elected into the association’s liaison bureau “wield no authority and may at any time be replaced through a vote of the majority of the federated associations assembled in Congress, or by the determination of the federated associations as expressed through their respective local trades Federations” (FORU 2005, 201). It was also decided that,

. . . 16. The accords of this Congress, unless rescinded by a majority of associations party to the compact, are to be binding upon all associations currently affiliated and any which may join hereafter.

. . . 18. This solidarity compact can at any time be revised by Congresses or through a majority vote of the Federated Associations; but the Federation entered into is not open for discussion as long as there are two associations left upholding this compact (FORU 2005, 202).

Anarcho-syndicalist trade unions from different countries were federated together within the International Workingmen’s Association (IWMA), which was founded at an illegal congress held in Berlin between December 25th 1922 and January 2nd 1923. The congress was attended by over thirty delegates representing an estimated 1.5 to 2 million workers from Europe and South America. The delegates included famous anarchists like Rudolf Rocker, Augustin Souchy, and Alexander Schapiro (Thorpe 1989, 244–56, 313n13). The statutes that were agreed at this congress included the following section on collective decision making:

the decisions arrived at by the international congresses are binding upon all affiliated organisations, except where these latter reject the decisions by a vote of a national congress, or if the decisions in question are, at the demand of at least three affiliated confederations, submitted by the I.W.M.A. to the ratification by a referendum of all its members.

At the conclusion of national referenda, each affiliated confederation shall have only one vote in the decision of the international referendum.

The method of voting at international congresses of the I.W.M.A. shall be fixed each time by the Congress itself

. . . In order to co-ordinate the international activity of the I.W.M.A., to organise exact information as to the propaganda and the struggle in all countries, to execute and carry out to a successful conclusion the decisions of international congresses, and to direct all the work of the I.W.M.A., the International Congress elects an Administrative Bureau, composed of one member of each national affiliated confederation, with decisive vote; and of one member for every other affiliated organisation of countries not possessing an affiliated confederation (but no more than one representative for each country), with consultative vote (IWMA 2022, 68-69).

Other sources for how anarchists typically made collective decisions at congresses are more indirect. In 1911 Malatesta wrote an article which argued that a planned national congress of anarchists in Italy was a bad idea at the present moment due to a series of divisions within the movement. As part of doing so he assumed that the congress would make “decisions, taken by a numerical majority” (Malatesta 2023, 315). He would not have made this assumption if this was not a standard practice among anarchists in general or, at the very least, the organisers of the congress.

One of the main topics that anarchists debated was what the function of majority voting should be at congresses of specific anarchist organisations. In June 1926 members of the Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad issued The Organisational Platform of the General Union of Anarchists (Draft). One of the main tenets of the Platform was that congress resolutions passed by majority vote should be binding on every section of the organisation, rather than only those sections who voted in favour of them. Such a commitment to binding congress resolutions should not be confused with the notion of ‘legally binding’. It only meant that implementing majority decisions was a requirement of being a member of the free association. According to the Platform,

Federalism means free agreement of individuals and organizations upon collective endeavour geared towards a common objective.

Now, such agreement and federative union based thereon become realities, rather than fictions and dreams, only if the essential condition is fulfilled that all parties to the agreement and to the Union fully honor the obligations they assume and abide by the decisions reached in common.

In a social undertaking as vast as the federalist basis upon which it is constructed, there can be no rights without obligations, just as there cannot be decisions without implementation thereof.

. . . As a result, the federalist type of anarchist organization, whilst acknowledging every member of the organization’s right to independence, to freedom of opinion, initiative and individual liberty, charges each member with specific organizational duties, insisting that these be rigorously performed, and that decisions jointly made be put into effect (The Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad 2002a, 212)

In 1928 Peter Arshinov, who was one of the co-authors of the Platform wrote that, “always and everywhere, practical problems among us have been resolved by majority vote. Which is perfectly understandable, for there is no other way of resolving these things in an organization that is determined to act” (Arshinov 2002, 241). A follow up to the Platform acknowledged that, even in a specific anarchist organisation that used majority voting and binding congress resolutions, differences of opinion about its programme, tactics and strategy would still emerge. In such situations there were three main potential outcomes. In the case of “insignificant differences” the minority would defer to the majority position in order to maintain “the unity” of the organisation. If “the minority were to consider sacrificing its view point an impossibility” then further “discussion” would occur. This would either culminate in an agreement being formed such that “two divergent opinions and tactics” co-existed with one another or there would be “a split with the minority breaking away from the majority to found a separate organization” (Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad 2002b, 218).

Other anarchists, including Malatesta, strongly disagreed with the idea that congress resolutions passed via majority vote should be binding on every section of the organisation, rather than only those sections who voted in favour of them. He viewed this as a break with the version of federalism that he and other anarchists had first implemented in the International decades previously (Malatesta 2014, 486-90). In 1928 Marie Goldsmith, who was an anarchist scientist and close friend of Kropotkin, argued that “anarchists operate from the principle that decisions taken by one group of individuals cannot be binding upon others, who have not reached them and who are not in agreement with them — and it is of no matter whether they are reached by a majority or by a minority” (Goldsmith 1928). She complained that,

In their infatuation with organization, our comrades overlook the fact that, instead of strengthening the union, the overruling of the minority will merely give rise to fresh intestinal struggles; instead of working productively, energies will be squandered on winning a majority in congresses, committees, etc. . . .

Although our anarchist movement may be open to reproach on several counts, we have to give it its due: it has always been free of congressional intrigues, electoral chicanery, the artificial cultivation of majorities, etc. And that thanks solely to the principle that has prevailed within it up to now, to wit, that decisions are binding only upon those who have taken them, and may not be imposed upon those unwilling to accept them. The force of such decisions and the commitment given are all the greater for that, in that each individual is more sensible of a decision taken by themselves than of some decision reached without their input and very often contrary to their wishes (ibid).

She thought that at anarchist congresses voting should merely be used to record opinions of delegates, rather than to make binding decisions for the entire organisation. She explained that,

Contrary to the practice in other parties, where delegates take away from the congress resolutions to which their mandataries have merely to submit, anarchist delegates bring to the congress the resolutions, opinions and tendencies of their respective groups. Congress is free to express an opinion of them — but that is all. The counting of the votes (should that be judged useful) is merely a statistical exercise; it may be interesting to know how many comrades, belonging to which grouping, come down on this side of the other. The importance of congresses is in no way diminished, and their work only grows more serious. Instead of furnishing an arena for gambits designed to win a majority, they can devote themselves to making known the movement’s status in different localities, its successes and failures, its different tendencies, etc. The resolutions cannot be anything more than indications, expressions of opinion, for the delegates to impart to their groups, which may adopt or reject them (ibid).

The dispute about the Platform led to a series of splits within some specific anarchist organisations. To take one example, in 1927 the French Anarchist Communist Union adopted platformism via a majority vote of delegates. It was decided, among other things, that the organisation would be renamed the Revolutionary Anarchist Communist Union and that majority decisions were now binding on all members. Proponents of synthesist anarchism were unhappy with these changes and this led some of the opposition to leave and form the Association of Anarchist Federalists (AFA). The platformist position was soon defeated at the 1930 congress, where the remaining synthesist delegates won the majority vote by fourteen to seven, regained control of the organisation, and abandoned the above resolutions. In response, the platformists left and formed the Libertarian Communist Federation in 1934, only to rejoin the Anarchist Union two years later in 1936 (Berry 2009, 173–76; Skirda 2002 135–36, 143). This highlights the extent to which anarchist versions of majority decision-making occurred within a system of free association.

A similar split about, among other issues, the role of majority voting happened within the Iberian Anarchist Federation (FAI), which was a specific anarchist organisation composed of affinity groups. These affinity groups typically had between 4 and 20 members and were linked together at a local and regional level. Members of the FAI initially thought that how collective decisions are made should vary depending upon the organisation in question. Unanimous agreement would, as far as is possible, be aimed for in small anarchist only groups, whilst majority voting was appropriate for trade unions with large memberships composed of workers in general (Casas 1986, 113-114, 217; Guillamón 2014, 28-29). In 1934 the Z and Nervio affinity groups, which included among their members Santillán, pushed for the FAI to adopt binding agreements established through majority voting. The Afinidad affinity group agreed with the necessity of such a system within the CNT, but opposed it being implemented within small specific anarchist organisations or affinity groups. After a confrontational FAI meeting Afinidad left the organisation in protest (Ealham 2015, 77).

At the FAI’s July 1937 plenum in Valencia a series of very controversial changes to the organisation were agreed upon. This included: large neighbourhood associations, rather than affinity groups, being the basic building block of the federation; the Peninsular Committee having greater power between congresses; and the position that “resolutions will be applicable to all members equally” (Quoted in Casas, 222). These organisational changes went alongside an endorsement of anarchist collaboration with the republican government during the civil war against fascism (ibid, 220, 223). The proposals were subsequently submitted to a referendum of the regional plenums of groups in Catalonia. It was reported in Solidaridad Obrera (Workers’ Solidarity) that,

The restructuring of the F.A.I., which had been approved in Valencia, was discussed: the majority at the plenum accepted the new structure, but a considerable minority was opposed. The disagreements were so great that some of the opposition groups threatened to walk out. In view of the gravity of the problem, which threatened anarchist unity, a committee was appointed to look for a formula of reconciliation that would bring together the different points of view. The committee drafted a report that was approved by all the groups of Catalonia at the plenum. It stated: “After considering very carefully the arguments raised in support of the different opinions by various delegates and considering further the absolute need for cordiality within the anarchist family, we declare: the majority support the decision of the peninsular plenum. However, in recognition of the strong opposition to such an action, to the point of threatening a split, the groups are free to reject the restructuring of the organization and to continue as they have until now, recognizing that the vote of each group at organizational meetings will have the weight of the number of members the group represents. The resolution called upon the Peninsular Committee to call a peninsular congress as quickly as possible because only such a congress has the sovereign right to change the structure and ideology of the organization (Quoted in ibid, 224).

At another plenum for F.A.I groups in Barcelona, a few delegates walked out of the meeting in protest whilst shouting “long live anarchy”. This included Peirats, who was a member of the previously mentioned Afinidad affinity group (ibid, 225; Ealham 2015, 59).

Given the above evidence, it is a complete myth that anarchists have only ever used consensus decision-making. It was common in the past for anarchists to advocate and rely upon majority voting. This endorsement of majority voting went alongside important disagreements about what its function and scope should be. Although it can hard to disentangle these debates from wider organisational and strategic issues, it is clear that anarchist proponents of majority voting disagreed about whether or not congress resolutions passed via majority vote, which went beyond the common programme of the association, should be binding on every section within the association, or only those sections who voted in favour of it. This went alongside another debate about whether or not decision-making procedures should be different in mass organisations composed of workers in general and smaller specific anarchist organisations, which were composed exclusively of dedicated anarchist militants.

Myth Four: all anarchists who advocated federations endorsed majority voting.

This is false. Several influential proponents of federations only endorsed unanimous agreement and were very critical of voting. It is difficult to determine exactly how many other pro-federation anarchists agreed with them. They seem to be in the minority given that very few examples of this idea crop up in both the primary and secondary sources I am familiar with and the largest anarchist organisations in history have been syndicalist unions that generally used majority voting. Examining this minority position is nonetheless interesting since it demonstrates that the historical debate was not between a rigid binary of pro-federation and pro-majority voting anarchists on one side and anti-federation and anti-voting anarchists on the other. The ideological diversity of the anarchist movement was far more complex.

Kropotkin was a proponent of formal organisation, delegates, and federations with huge memberships (Kropotkin 2014, 105, 163, 318, 474-75). Initially he appears to have supported the use of majority voting in certain contexts. In 1877 Kropotkin wrote a letter in which he argued that some Italian members of the International should be expelled from the organisation for allowing themselves to be arrested without firing their guns. In the letter he said, “I propose to vote for their exclusion from the International” (Quoted in Cahm 1989, 103). Sometime over the following years Kropotkin changed his mind. During the 1890s he was very strongly opposed to voting and endorsed unanimous agreement as an alternative. In 1893 Kropotkin claimed that intentional communities “ought to have no directors, no superintendents, no balloting, no voting whatsoever.  . . The Russian peasants live without authority, agree at their meetings for common work, and are intelligent enough not to have authorities or ballots, and to arrive at unanimity in their decisions” (Kropotkin 1893). Two years later he asserted that,

In the hundreds of histories of communities which I have had the opportunity to read, I always saw that the introduction of any sort of elected authority has always been, without one single exception, the point which the community stranded upon; while, on the other side, those communities enjoyed a partial and sometimes very substantial success, which accepted no authority besides the unanimous decision of the folkmoot, and preferred, as a couple of hundred of millions of Slavonian peasants do, and as the German Communists in America did, to discuss every matter so long as a unanimous decision of the folkmoot could be arrived at. Communists, who are bound to live in a narrow circle of a few individuals, in which circle the petty struggles for dominion are the more acutely felt, ought decidedly to abandon the Utopias of elected committees’ management and majority rule; they must bend before the reality of practice which is at work for many hundreds of years in hundreds of thousands of village communities — the folkmoot — and they must remember that in these communities, majority rule and elected government have always been synonymous and concomitant with disintegration — never with consolidation (Kropotkin 1895. Also see Kropotkin 2006, 104, 107-108, 117).

Kropotkin’s opinions on this matter were known to other anarchists at the time. In 1896 Malatesta conjectured that Kropotkin rejected a request to attend the International Socialist Workers and Trade Union Congress as a delegate because of (among other factors) a deep-seated aversion to voting (Turcato 2012, 139, 141).

In a similar fashion, Wilson advocated federations (Wilson 1888) and believed that each member of an association should have “an equal voice in deciding what is to be done” and reach a “decision by unanimity” (Wilson 2000, 71). She thought this would often involve a minority of dissenters deciding to voluntarily concede their position and agree with the majority such that a unanimous decision is made or, at the very least, step aside and allow others to act. This is reminiscent of some features of modern consensus decision making. She wrote,

In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred where a number of people are met together to decide upon some common course of conduct, they will all in the end come to some definite decision in favour of one thing; because those who were at one time inclined to dissent, prefer in the end to act with the majority, if the matter is of practical importance; not because they are forced to do so by the majority over-ruling, but because the largest body of opinion has so much weight with them that they choose not to act contrary to it.

We all admit this general fact. It would be quite impossible to take any common action at all if it were not so. But the special theory of democracy is that the general tendency of humanity which becomes so apparent whenever men associate on anything like terms of economic equality, should be made by men into an arbitrary law of human conduct to be enforced not only in the ninety-nine cases where nature enforces it, but by the arbitrary methods of coercion in the hundredth where she doesn’t. And for the sake of the hundredth case, for the sake of enforcing this general natural tendency where nature does not enforce it, democrats would have us retain in our political relation that fatal principle of authority of man over man . . . (Wilson 2000, 69-70).

In 1899 the Spanish anarchist collectivist Ricardo Mella advocated both “a federation of free producers” and a society “without voting”. He proposed that voluntary associations should only be formed and amended by the unanimous agreement of every member. In such a context people would associate with like-minded people who shared their preferences and views on a set of relevant topics. He believed this would limit the number of collective decisions that needed to be made on a day-to-day basis since the act of setting up an association would settle key points in advance. If a disagreement emerged within an association, and it was not possible for multiple perspectives to co-exist or be put into practice simultaneously, then people would disassociate and form new groups around their distinct positions. Disputes over practical questions, both within an association and between associations, would typically be resolved through a process of experimentation in which the best answer was determined by trial and error. Yet even Mella conceded that there would be a few occasions where an association would defer to the opinion of the majority as a last resort (Mella 2015). He wrote,

in the future operational problems will arise that trial and error will not be able to resolve. And then what do we do? Well, quite simply, break up the teams so that each can operate by its own special method; and, were the matter such that there would be no merit in subdivision or if it was necessary for all the personnel to stay together as a body, they would of course all arrange to be guided either by the views of the most intelligent among them or by that of the most practical of their number and – should that fail – ultimately, by the opinion of the majority, because in that assuredly exceptional circumstance, the issue would not rank as a generally mandatory principle or law to be carried out and would carry none of the compulsion we find at present. Besides, it would be merely a transitional arrangement with no implications for the rest of the body of society as long as it did not go beyond private operations or the bailiwick of the specific collective implementing it on a regular basis (ibid).

Mella did not specify how this would concretely happen. Given his other beliefs it is clear that he thought it should occur without voting and that if voting was used to calculate a majority then this represented an unfortunate failure to achieve his ideal society.

Conclusion

Democracy and collective decision-making continue to be contentious issues among the modern anarchist movement. This debate cannot be settled by appeals to history. Old anarchist literature contains many valuable insights, but it should not be treated like holy scripture. We must make our own arguments and not use historical figures as sock puppets for our own distinct views. Nor do the surviving primary sources form a uniform and unchanging canon. Anarchists in the past argued and disagreed with one another as much as anarchists in the present. There was no agreement on (a) how anarchist organisations should be structured or make collective decisions; (b) whether or not anarchists should adopt democratic language to describe societies without government or authority; and (c) whether or not congress resolutions which went beyond the common programme of an organisation should be binding on every section of a federation or only those sections who voted in favour of them. The complexity and diversity of these opinions must not be conveniently ignored or erased in order to lend historical legitimacy to modern ideas or construct political mythologies that are imagined versions of the past. The history of anarchist political thought must instead seek to develop an empirically accurate model that is grounded in the surviving sources, is sensitive to the context they were written in, and avoids anachronistic language as much as possible.

The debate about how we should make collective decisions and structure associations must be disentangled from debates about how to label these ideas. There are historical anarchists like Malatesta who rejected democracy in the sense of majority government and majority rule, whilst also advocating a combination of unanimous agreement and majority voting to record opinions and select courses of action within a free association. There are modern anarchists who reject majority government and majority rule, advocate democracy in the broad sense of any participatory system of collective decision-making in which everyone involved has an equal say, and think that decisions should only be made via consensus within a free association. The anarcho-syndicalist Maximoff, who described anarchism as a form of democracy, thought that the Platform, which rejected democracy, advocated a centralised organisation with a parliament like structure and so broke with anarchist versions of federalism (Maximoff 1988, 19). At the founding congress of the anarcho-syndicalist IWMA German delegates argued that their preferred version of voting was different from the “formal democracy of the centralist trade unions” (Quoted in Thorpe 1989, 256). In short, there is no one to one correspondence (either historically or currently) between what ideas an anarchist holds and whether or not they choose to call these ideas democracy. If a self-described anarchist advocates government or authority, then they are not committed to the programme of anarchist socialism regardless of what language they use. If, however, they actually advocate a society without government or authority then they are committed to the programme of anarchist socialism. In such cases the adoption of democratic language would represent only a variation in how to label anarchist systems of free association and collective decision-making. This is why the same ideas can be regarded as democracy without government by a modern anarchist and free association and free agreement by a historical anti-democratic anarchist. Mere changes in terminology must never be confused for changes in ideas.

This is not to say that terminology does not matter. How we express our ideas shapes how others understand them. The adoption of democratic language is potentially dangerous and should be used with caution. This is because it can lead people to mistake anarchism for the idea that society should be run by an extremely democratic government that makes decisions within general assemblies and then imposes these decisions on everyone via the institutionalised violence of the law, police and prisons. It is therefore very important that pro-democracy anarchists make it explicit that they reject both majority government and majority rule in order to avoid this confusion. Irrespective of what language we choose, the most important thing is that the ideas we propose are ones which, if implemented, would create a system of free association in which (a) there is no domination or exploitation and (b) there is greater amounts of freedom, equality, co-operation, and human flourishing than exists under any society with class divisions, government, and authority. We must envision a world without rulers that is not a mere dream or thought experiment. It must be a viable alternative to the status quo that can be created in the immediate future by imperfect people, function globally, and scale to the current human population of over eight billion.

Although I dream of a society with as few meetings as possible, I acknowledge that any association will have to make collective decisions in order to, say, elect and mandate delegates, co-ordinate their activity, determine how to deploy their limited capacities in pursuit of a shared goal, and so forth. Such decisions will shape not only trivial matters like the name of a band, but also extremely important and complex issues like public health, the education of children, environmental protection, and the participatory planning of an anarchist communist economy. This does not mean that people will vote on every possible question. Nurses do not need to hold a meeting in order to decide how to take blood since this is something they already know how to do from their medical training. Nor does it mean that any decision will be taken by the community at large. Associations instead self-manage their relevant sphere of action and co-ordinate with each other through a system of federations that unites people on the basis of both the area they live in and the industry they belong to. As a result, day-to-day decisions concerning the organisation of public infrastructure like water supply systems or telecommunication networks will be made by members of the relevant producer association with the appropriate skills and expertise, rather than by everyone in the area. There are, in addition to this, certain topics that should never be put to a vote. For example, whether or not people should be allowed to have abortions or receive trans healthcare. Collective decisions must always occur within a framework that respects the freedom of others and the equality of all human beings.

Freedom of association includes the freedom to disassociate and there will be circumstances in which a majority must impose sanctions on an individual who violates a code of conduct that members of the association have approved and agreed to follow, such as a professor being expelled from a university for sexually harassing students, or a doctor being banned from practicing medicine in the hospitals that a healthcare federation self-manages because they performed experiments on patients without their consent. Even in a society built on a foundation of free association and free agreement, people will find themselves impacted by collective decisions that they disagree with and cannot realistically disassociate from. If everyone else in a community chooses to build a brutalist apartment complex, then someone who hates brutalism will have to live with this decision. In cases like this nobody is being dominated. They are merely experiencing an inevitable feature of living in a society or being a member of any group: other people will disagree with us and things do not always go the way that we would have liked. So long as humans exist there will be the need to balance the conflicting perspectives and interests of people and this balancing act cannot be easily resolved by applying a ready-made formula.

The manner in which necessary moments of collective decision-making are organised should be flexible and vary depending upon the circumstances in question. The constraints and pressures of revolutionary struggle are not the same as the day to day functioning of a post-revolutionary society. The construction of a public transportation system or sewer network has different requirements than organising a chess tournament. Unanimous agreement will be the correct choice in some circumstances, majority voting in others. Sometimes multiple positions can be implemented simultaneously. On other occasions only one decision can be made. If we select majority voting then we must be on guard against it leading to the oppression of minorities. It must also be kept in mind that there are certain situations in which the perspective of a minority should have greater weight than a majority, such as the accessibility requirements of disabled people. If we opt for unanimous agreement then we must ensure that it does not lead to one person misusing the ability to block proposals in order to consistently thwart  the actions of the majority such that, for all intents and purposes, it is their individual will which determines what happens and overrules everybody else.

Anarchist organisational structures and collective decision-making procedures are a necessary aspect of creating a horizontal association, but they are not sufficient. This is because an organisation can be formally horizontal and free but not substantively so due to a range of factors. This includes, but is not limited to, racism against people of colour, men doing most of the talking at meetings, women being relegated to support roles and performing the majority of reproductive labour, and an informal hierarchy emerging around a charismatic individual who then uses this informal power to get away with sexually harassing and abusing women. In order to counter-act the emergence of informal hierarchies it is necessary to prefigure a future anarchist society both in the formal structures and procedures of an organisation and also the interpersonal dynamics between the individuals who constitute it. These two forms of prefiguration can feed off each other, such as it being a formal requirement that a certain percentage of delegates are women and this formal requirement leading to women gaining greater confidence when speaking in public. Ultimately, the solution to such complex problems will only emerge through experimentation and figuring out what works in real life, rather than only in the imagination. It is only through engaging in the practice of horizontal association, which includes responding effectively to deviations from it, that we can render ourselves fit to create a society without domination and exploitation.

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Endnotes

[i] The mutualist Pierre Joseph Proudhon, who was the first person to self-identify as an anarchist, critiqued these ideas in 1851. He insisted that “Considerant” and “Rittinghausen” were wrong to advocate “Direct Government and Direct Legislation”, which he regarded as “the two biggest blunders in the annals of politics and of philosophy” (Proudhon 1969, 103-104). Proudhon later claimed that due to popular revolts “the principle of authority is forced to retire: it retires step by step, by a series of concessions, each one more insufficient than the other, of which the last, pure democracy, or direct government, ends in the impossible and the absurd” (ibid, 128). This contrasts with the ideas of Joseph Déjacque, who was the first person to self-identify as a libertarian and proponent of anarchism. He thought that during the period of transition prior to the achievement of anarchy, there should be “the most democratic form of government”. He envisioned this as a republic that was broken down into self-governing communes of 50,000 people, which were in turn “divided into as many sections as is necessary for the ease of meetings and deliberations”. At each level of this republic the people ruled themselves through “direct legislation” and passed laws via “a majority plus one of the voters” (Déjacque 2012). A detailed examination of the ideas of such proto-anarchists lies outside the scope of this essay, which is only concerned with the ideas of the anarchist movement.

[ii] On one occasion in the essay Puente says that under libertarian communism “democracy, that is, government of the people by the people, will be a reality”. Yet elsewhere in the text he explicitly attacks the state, government, authority, and any top down organisational structure. In 1933 he advocated a society without “rulers” and “legislation” (Puente n.d., 2). In a later text from 1936 he is clear that “el Comunismo libertario es una forma de organización social, en la cual el gobierno de los hombres se sustituye por la administración colectiva de las cosas” [libertarian communism is a form of social organisation in which the government of men is replaced by the collective administration of things] (Puente 2003, 15). Puente cannot therefore be interpreted as a supporter of democratic government. He instead appears to have referred to ‘government of the people by the people’ for purely rhetorical purposes in order to claim that anarchism will realise the empty promises of bourgeois society.

[iii] The English translation I am using refers to executives instead of clerks. I changed this because the Spanish original says “los obreros, los empleados y los técnicos”. According to the dictionaries I consulted, the Spanish word ‘empleados’ can be translated as employees, staff, or clerks. ‘Employees’ makes little sense in the context of describing communism and ‘staff’ is redundant in a sentence that also mentions workers and technicians. I opted for clerks because elsewhere he refers to “workers, administrators, and technicians” when discussing workers’ councils.

[iv] The original Spanish version of the text uses the word “junta” to refer to a “national defense council” or committee composed of workers which would perform the functions of “management of the war”, “supervision of revolutionary order”, “international affairs”, and “revolutionary propaganda”. Positions within the defense council were to be regularly rotated and “the trade union assemblies will exercise control over the council’s activities”. The self-management of the economy and daily life would be done via federations of workplace associations (unions) and community associations (free municipalities), which were the standard organs of self-management advocated by Spanish anarchists throughout the 1930s. They strongly opposed collaboration with the bourgeois republic and thought that decentralised organs of self-management “precluded the erection of a new State system” (Friends of Durruti, 1978). In English the term ‘junta’ has become shorthand for a top down military government of army officers that forcefully takes state power in a coup. I altered the translation to avoid confusion with ‘junta’ in this very different sense of the term.

[v] It may be argued in response that the Friends of Durriti Group were both pro-democracy and advocated majority government/rule during the transition to anarchy. In order for such an argument to work it needs to be painstakingly established that when they advocated a ‘national defence council’ of delegates, alongside federations of workplace and community associations, they were (a) going far beyond standard anarchist views on revolutionary violence and the development of working class power and (b) were essentially advocating a workers’ government (as defined by anarchist theory). I am not aware of any primary sources which support such an interpretation. A similar sounding proposal had previously been made by Bakunin in 1868. He wrote, “The Commune will be organized by the standing federation of the Barricades and by the creation of a Revolutionary Communal Council composed of one or two delegates from each barricade, one to each street or district, vested with plenary but accountable and removable mandates. The Communal Council thus created will have the power to choose executive committees from among its membership, one for each branch of the revolutionary administration of the Commune” (Bakunin 1973, 170-71).

[vi] It is sometimes claimed that a young and politically immature Malatesta initially advocated democracy/majority rule/majority voting but later rejected it in the 1920s. There is no empirical evidence to support this claim. He was against democracy, majority government, and majority rule from the moment he abandoned republicanism and became an anarchist in 1871/1872 at the age of 17/18. In his 1884 pamphlet Between Peasants a thirty year old Malatesta, who had been an anarchist for approaching half his life, endorsed a combination of unanimous agreement and majority voting. That exact same year he rejected democracy, including directly democratic Athens (Malatesta 2014, 18, 23). His explicit endorsement of majority voting continued throughout the 1890s (Malatesta 2016, 17-19, 41, 391; Malatesta 2019, 74, 133). In 1907, when he was 53, he repeated his long held rejection of majority rule and endorsement of majority voting (Malatesta 2023, 258-59). In 1927 he responded to the Platform’s idea that congress resolutions passed via majority vote should be binding on all members by rehashing the views on federalism he had believed in and implemented since the days of the International (Malatesta 2014, 486-90). At no point in the essay does he reject the versions of majority voting that he had advocated for decades or indicate that he had changed his mind on this topic. This will be demonstrated in exhaustive detail in a forthcoming essay.

Anarchist Counter Culture in Spain

People are often drawn to the study of labour history because they want to understand how to change the world. It is thought that the history of class struggle contains within itself not only a series of events and dates laid out in chronological order but also lessons. Through studying the history of class struggle we can establish with evidence what strategies and tactics work or do not work, why movements grow and why they collapse, what challenges social movements will have to overcome and so on. The necessity of studying history emerges from the fact that socialists cannot run scientific experiments in a laboratory and thereby establish the definitive formula for revolution. We can instead only look at contemporary and previous attempts to achieve socialism in order to try and learn from a vast assortment of victories and defeats. The study of history cannot create a recipe for revolution since no such recipe exists. It can at best establish generalisations which inform our action in the present.

When learning about the past it is easy to focus on major exciting events in which large groups of workers took direct action and in so doing simultaneously transformed the world and themselves. During my research I find myself drawn to narratives about strikes, riots, insurrections, massive civil disobedience campaigns, armed uprisings, and revolutions. Learning about these events is an important part of labour history but to focus exclusively on them leads to a distorted view of the past and how social change happens. Members of historical socialist movements did not spend the majority of their time participating in huge actions which rapidly transformed society and the future course of history. The bulk of their lives as revolutionaries were spent doing much more mundane activities. They produced, distributed and read radical literature, organised and attended picnics, performed in a theatre club, watched a public debate, discussed politics with friends, family and colleagues, attended an endless series of meetings for their affinity group or trade union, wrote and received a vast amount of letters and so on. These small mundane activities can appear to be of little importance when viewed in isolation. Yet when these small activities were repeated day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year by groups of people they took on greater significance.

These small activities produced and reproduced the social relations, capacities, psychological drives and consciousness which were the foundation of social movements. Without these seemingly insignificant acts repeated over and over again, the large exciting moments of rebellion and revolution never would have occurred in most instances or would have occurred on a much smaller scale. Even events which can appear to have come out of nowhere were significantly shaped by the struggles which preceded them. For example, the Paris Commune of 1871 arose unexpectedly in response to a chance event: army soldiers were sent to seize cannons from the national guard in the district of Montmartre and a crowd of protesters went to stop them. Although the founding of the Commune took only a few days, it was the culmination of years, and arguably decades, of class struggle from below. Within Paris this class struggle took various forms, such as massive public meetings, talks and debates attended by thousands of workers, the production and distribution of books, pamphlets and papers, the founding of co-operatives, the organisation of sections of the International Workingmen’s Association, and a wave of strikes, demonstrations and riots (Merriman 2014, 39-45. For a brief summary of preceding struggles see ibid 11-2, 16-7, 25-36).

Anarchists in the 19th and early 20th century understood the significance of small acts being repeated over and over again. They viewed social change as a single process which could be divided into periods of evolution and periods of revolution. During periods of evolution change is slow, gradual and partial. Over time this evolutionary change builds up and culminates in a revolutionary period during which change is rapid, large scale, and fundamentally alters society. Evolutionary change and revolutionary change were not viewed as separate distinct entities. They were instead seen as two aspects of a single process which fed off and flowed into one another (Reclus 2013, 138-40). This idea was usually expressed through water-based metaphors. To give one example, in 1875 Michael Bakunin wrote in a letter to Élisée Reclus that, “[w]e are falling back into a time of evolution – that is to say revolutions that are invisible, subterranean and often imperceptible . . . drops of water, though they may be invisible may go on to form an ocean” (Bakunin 2016, 251-2). Anarchists thought that evolutionary change included a wide spectrum of behaviour. It referred not only to direct action which modifies the dominant structures of class society, such as a strike which wins higher wages in a workplace. It also included transformations driven forward by culture, such as a worker’s understanding of the world being altered through their exposure to a book, poem or song.

The latest research on the history of anarchism has drawn attention to the construction of counter-culture by anarchist movements around the world. This includes, but is not limited to, anarchist movements in Cuba (Shaffer 2019), Argentina (Suriano 2010), Japan (Konishi 2013), England (Di Paola 2017) and the United States (Goyens 2007; Zimmer 2015). For the purposes of this essay I shall focus on the manner in which anarchists in Spain engaged in evolutionary change through the formation of a radical working class counter-culture. It should be kept in mind that identical or similar practices were implemented by anarchists in other countries. Discussions of anarchism in Spain often focus on the National Confederation of Labour (CNT). The CNT is a trade union that was founded in 1910 and adopted an anarcho-syndicalist programme in 1919 at the La Comedia national congress in Madrid, which was attended by 450 delegates representing over 700,000 workers. Despite suffering multiple waves of state repression and being illegal for several years of its existence, the CNT was able to survive and maintain itself over time. By May 1936 the CNT was composed of 982 union sections with a total membership of 550,595 workers. The CNT proceeded to play a key role in the Spanish revolution and civil war of 1936-1939, during which workers created numerous experiments in economic self-management that demonstrated the feasibility of anarchist socialism working at scale (Peirats 2011, 7-10, 93. For details on self-management during the revolution see Leval 2012). The CNT is the largest anarcho-syndicalist trade union in history. To understand how anarchists in Spain were able to construct a mass movement it is necessary to go beyond the examination of strike waves, armed uprisings, the highs and lows of formal organisations, important national congresses, the various debates about strategy and tactics within the movement as a whole and so on. These factors were of course extremely important but they are not the full picture. Another key factor is the manner in which the creation and transmission of culture sustained, reproduced and expanded the anarchist movement in Spain.

The central importance of culture for the development of anarchism in Spain is especially apparent when examining print media. Between 1890 and 1915, 298 periodicals and journals were launched in Spain. Of these 107 were based in Catalonia and 191 were in other regions of Spain, such as Andalusia and Valencia. These papers collectively released 7328 issues, of which 4930 have survived. These papers largely appeared on a weekly, fortnightly or monthly basis. Most periodicals were one sheet of paper which was folded to create four pages. These papers typically featured articles on anarchist theory, commentaries on current events, critiques of the bourgeois and state socialist press, letters and correspondence from members of the movement, and news of the class struggle both within Spain and the wider world. These short periodicals co-existed with a smaller number of journals, which were eight, sixteen or thirty-two pages long. During this period over 700 anarchist books and pamphlets were also published. These covered topics as diverse as geography, history, biology, sociology, political theory, birth control, law, art and literature. Peter Kropotkin’s Mutual Aid sold 20,000 copies in three years and The Conquest of Bread went through eleven editions and had sold 28,000 copies by 1909. Most groups could not afford to publish books due to the printing costs involved and instead focused on the publication of periodicals and pamphlets. Errico Malatesta’s pamphlet Between Peasants was particularly popular and was published in fifteen different editions between 1889 and 1915. The distribution of pamphlets was itself assisted by periodicals. Extracts of a pamphlet would be printed on the third and fourth page of a paper. Over several weeks or months a reader would accumulate the entire pamphlet and then tear out each page, assemble them together, and bind them with string. Anarchists did not limit themselves to non-fiction and also published poems, plays, songs and short stories as sections of periodicals or self-contained pamphlets (Yeoman 2020, 9-11, 41-3).

The majority of anarchist print media was written and edited by workers for free in their spare time after a full day of work. There were a few papers which were run by full time paid staff, such as Solidaridad Obrera from 1916 onwards, but these were in the minority. The manner in which anarchist periodicals were typically produced after work can be seen in the fact that the masthead of El Corsario declared that its office hours were from 7pm to 9pm in the evening. Most famous theorists, such as Anselmo Lorenzo and Ricardo Mella, were not professional writers and worked full time at other occupations. During the early 1930s the anarchist militant José Peirats split his time between working as a manual labourer during the day and writing articles for several important anarchist periodicals in the evening. Peirats was not unique in this respect. Throughout the late 19th and early 20th century one of the main sources of content for anarchist papers was the vast number of letters which workers sent to editors and publishing groups. These letters usually contained anarchist theory, stories, poetry, calls for solidarity, news of organising and meetings, and reports of oppressive or scandalous behaviour by capitalists and the police (Yeoman 2020, 43-4, 56, note 33, 248; Esenwein 1989, 127; Ealham 2015, 72-4).

The workers who sent in letters were known as correspondents and played a key role in the day-to-day functioning of anarchist print media. Through writing letters they transmitted information and reflections about a local area to the editors of the paper. The editors of the paper would, if they deemed it worthy, print the letter in the paper and then send copies of the paper to every correspondent they had across the country. These correspondents would then distribute the paper to local workers and collect money for both the publishing costs of the paper and solidarity funds that the paper had set up. These solidarity funds, which were collected at workplaces, meetings, plays, marriages and funerals, provided financial assistance to striking workers, anarchist prisoners, and widows of dead comrades. The anarchist press was therefore constituted by a social network in which, to quote the historian James Yeoman, local correspondents were “the ‘nodes’ through which the anarchist press was channelled into localities, and the thoughts, experiences and money from localities were channelled out to publishers” (Yeoman 2020, 47). The various publishing groups were, in turn, interconnected with one another and would support each other in various ways, such as larger and well established papers announcing the appearance of a new anarchist periodical. These kinds of positive relationships did not of course always occur and on other occasions anarchist periodicals engaged in polemical arguments with one another. During periods when there were no genuinely national formal anarchist organisations, the informal social networks that connected readers, correspondents, editors and publishers functioned as the national organisational structure of the anarchist movement. These social networks also operated at an international level. Larger anarchist papers in Spain would receive correspondence and articles from anarchists around the world and would, in turn, send out copies of their paper to workers in other countries. This was especially the case with countries that had a significant Spanish immigrant population, such as Argentina and Cuba (Yeoman 2020, 43-50, 17-8).

The health of anarchist print culture was a proxy for the health of the movement. During periods of organisational growth the number of periodicals generally expanded, whilst during periods of state repression in which anarchist formal organisations and affinity groups were forced underground the number of periodicals dramatically shrunk. This is not to say that the highs of anarchist print culture always coincided with the expansion of anarchist formal organisations. Between 1898-1906 the number of anarchist periodicals significantly increased but during this same period the anarchist led trade union, the Federation of Resistance Societies of the Spanish Region (FSORE), was seriously weakened by an unsuccessful general strike in 1902. The FSORE continued to decline over the following years until it was dissolved in 1907 (Yeoman 2020, 9-15, 162-3). Nor is the number of periodicals in circulation always an indicator of the health of anarchist print culture. In 1916 the official organ of the CNT, Solidaridad Obrera, became the anarchist movements first successful daily paper. In response to this other anarchist papers decided to close down and encouraged their readers to support Solidaridad Obrera instead. Despite the number of periodicals in circulation decreasing, anarchist print culture was the strongest it had ever been. Solidaridad Obrera published as much content in a month as most anarchist periodicals published in a year. Between 1916 and 1919 Solidaridad Obrera issued around 800 daily editions. A typical anarchist paper between 1890-1915 had, in comparison, a print run of only 20 to 30 issues before it ceased publication due to financial difficulties and/or state repression. The strength of Solidaridad Obrera coincided with the strength of the CNT, which funded the publication of the paper and had almost 800,000 members in 1919. That year the CNT organised a massive general strike in Barcelona which successfully forced the Spanish ruling class to pass legislation granting the eight hour day. The direct action of workers at the point of production was assisted by the pens of Solidaridad Obrera’s writers, who published articles throughout the strike informing readers of the latest news. In response to this strike wave the Spanish state repressed the CNT and banned Solidaridad Obrera (Yeoman 2020, 15, 51, 53, 248-9. For information on the strike see Smith 2007, 292-9).

The amount of time and energy anarchists in Spain devoted to the creation and distribution of print media is understandable given the importance that anarchist theory placed on education. The black American anarchist Lucy Parsons claimed that “Anarchists know that a long period of education” which develops “self-thinking individuals” is a necessary condition for “any great fundamental change in society” (Parsons 2003, 31). Similar remarks can be found in the Spanish anarchist press. In 1902 Mella wrote in La Protesta that “[w]e the anarchists” should “work for the coming revolution with words, with writings and with deeds . . . the press, the book, the private and public meeting are today, as ever, abundant terrain for all initiatives” (Quoted in Yeoman 2020, 40). Anarchist attempts to educate workers through print media faced a significant barrier: during this time period the majority of adults, especially poor people, could not read or write. In 1877 72 percent of the population in Spain were illiterate. This gradually decreased to between 63 and 67 percent in 1900 and 59 percent in 1910 (Bray and Haworth 2019, 7). Anarchists overcame this obstacle through the spoken word. Anarchist periodicals, journals, pamphlets and books were read aloud to groups of workers by the few people who were literate. This would usually be followed by a group discussion about the contents of the paper, pamphlet or book. This practice of collective education occurred at public meetings, smaller private gatherings and even at work. The development of revolutionary consciousness on company time was achieved by groups of workers dividing up tasks such that one worker would recite anarchist literature whilst the others laboured and listened (Esenwein 1989, 129, 132; Yeoman 2020, 46).

This feature of the anarchist movement was commented on by people at the time. The reformist Ramiro de Maeztu claimed in 1901 that,

These books, pamphlets and periodicals are not read in the manner of others . . . the reader of anarchist works—generally a worker—does not have a library, nor buys books for himself. [I have] witnessed the reading of [Kropotkin’s] The Conquest of Bread in a workers’ centre. In a room dimly lit by a candle, up to fourteen workers met every night of the winter. One of them reads laboriously, the others listen . . . (Quoted in Yeoman 2020, 46)

Juan Díaz del Moral made a similar observation during the period of excitement which followed the 1917 Russian revolution. He wrote,

In their work breaks during the day (los cigarros) and at night after the evening meal, the most educated would read aloud pamphlets and newspapers, to which the others would listen attentively. What had been read was followed by corroborating perorations and endless praise. Not everything was understood: there were unknown words; some interpretations were childish, others were malicious, according to the character of the person who expressed them; but ultimately everyone agreed. It could not be any other way! It was the truth that they had felt all their lives, although they had never been able to express it. They read continually; their curiosity and their desire to learn were insatiable. Even on the road, mounted on horseback, with the reins or halters loose, campesinos could be seen reading; there were always some pamphlet in the saddlebag with their food. The number of copies of newspapers that were distributed is incalculable; each person wanted to have his own. It is true that 70-80 percent of them could not read; but this was not an insurmountable obstacle. The dedicated illiterate bought his own newspaper, gave it to a compañero to read to him, and then marked the articles that pleased him most. Later he would ask another comrade to read the article marked, and after a few readings he had committed it to memory and would recite it to those who did not know it (Quoted in Mintz 1994, 120, note 3).

The fact that anarchist articles were routinely spread through the spoken word had a profound effect on how they were written. An article ending with the declaration ‘VIVA ANARCHY! VIVA THE SOCIAL REVOLUTION!’ can appear over the top to a solitary reader. Such sentences make a lot more sense when one imagines a reader shouting these words at a group of workers and those workers shouting the same words back (Yeoman 2020, 46).

To a modern reader the manner in which workers historically absorbed anarchist ideas can appear similar to how contemporary workers educate themselves through listening to podcasts or youtube videos. There are, however, a number of important differences. A modern person generally listens to content alone over the internet. Workers in the 19th and early 20th centuries listened to anarchist print media as a group in a face-to-face gathering. This medium of transmission by itself created a social network of anarchist workers in a specific location. This group of workers could then decide to not only absorb and discuss anarchist theory, but also put theory into practice and take direct action, such as by unionising their workplace or organising a strike. The collective nature of anarchist print media is apparent not only in how it was consumed but also in how it was produced. Periodicals published the thoughts and experiences of correspondents within Spain and the wider world. Through the medium of the printed word the thoughts and experiences from multiple individuals and groups were saved in the pages of the paper. They thereby gained a permanence which existed long after the memories of people were altered, decayed and forgotten due to the passage of time or lost forever with death. Workers who retained complete sets of papers, even after they had ceased publication, had access to the memory of the movement and the class struggles for emancipation which had previously occurred. The hunger for such information can be seen in the fact that editors of papers regularly received letters asking for previous issues so that an anarchist library could offer visitors a complete collection (Yeoman 2020, 53-4).

Anarchists also spread their ideas through lectures, public debates and speaking tours. Some speaking tours were big events in which the most famous anarchist orators and writers gave talks across all of Spain. This included talks given by well known anarchists from abroad, such as Malatesta and Pedro Esteve’s November 1891 to January 1892 speaking tour which was promoted by the anarchist paper El Productor. Other speaking tours were much smaller affairs. In 1892 the Catalan metalworker Ignacio Martín visited the city of Gijón and single handedly spread anarchist ideas across factories, taverns and workers’ centres. Through these speaking tours anarchist orators attempted to simultaneously influence the consciousness of other workers and encourage them to form or join anarchist groups, organise, and take direct action. This can be seen in Malatesta and Esteve’s speaking tour. They travelled across the country giving talks which explained basic anarchist ideas and emphasised the need for organisation and armed insurrection to achieve emancipation. Following their visit new anarchist groups or workers’ associations were formed. In addition to encouraging the formation of new anarchist groups, Malatesta and Esteve also visited prominent anarchist militants wherever they travelled in order to establish or strengthen social networks between anarchist groups throughout Spain. In so doing they aimed to create the organisational basis for future acts of revolt. The dual goal of consciousness raising and organising was typically facilitated through the distribution of posters, pamphlets, and periodicals at talks. This had the effect that speaking tours established a local archive of anarchist literature wherever they travelled. The new collection of print media could then be used by workers to educate themselves further and become more committed to anarchism once the speaking tour had left the area. Since periodicals included an address to send letters to, the distribution of print media also ensured that new local anarchists had a means to communicate with other anarchists and become part of the social networks that constituted the movement. This is not to say that speaking tours were always enormous successes. Their effectiveness was routinely hindered by state repression. For example, one speaking tour, which aimed to persuade proletarians and peasants in Andalusia to join the CNT, was abruptly ended when all the speakers were arrested at the first event (Yeoman 2020, 147-8, 219, 234-5, 246; Turcato 2012, 91-9).

The creation and transmission of anarchist culture was not confined to print media and speaking tours. Anarchists in Spain devoted a significant amount of time and energy to organising a wide range of different social events. This included, but was not limited to, plays, poetry scenes, concerts, dinners, dances, picnics, discussion groups, and reading groups. These various forms of association generally occurred within public meeting places, such as cafes and bars, and were self-organised by working class groups known as circles, affinity groups or workers’ centres. During the late 19th century one of the best known workers’ centres in Barcelona was La Luz, which organised daily discussions at a cafe that attracted workers and middle class professionals from various political persuasions. Although the majority of people who attended the meetings were republicans, anarchists were able to effectively intervene in the discussions, spread their ideas to other workers, and persuade some of them to become anarchists. Such daily or weekly activities were interspersed with public celebrations of key dates in the revolutionary calendar, such as the anniversary of the Paris Commune and May Day. For example, on the fifteenth anniversary of the Paris Commune anarchist groups from Barcelona and the surrounding area organised a festival which featured choirs, an orchestra, poetry recitals and theatre performances (Esenwein 1989, 128-32; Smith 2012, 156-7, 260). The spread of anarchist culture through social events was facilitated by the creation of anarchist-run physical spaces. In the early 1930s anarchist members of the CNT established a co-operative store and bakery in Sant Adrià. The co-operative was built from scratch by a group of volunteer carpenters, bricklayers and plasterers using building materials which were paid for by crowd-funding within the local community. The co-operative not only sold various products and food at cost price but also featured a library, a bar with a billiard table, and a cafe. This enabled the co-operative to host a wide range of anarchist social events, including evening classes, lectures, plays and musical recitals (Ealham 2010, 52-3).

One of the main physical spaces where workers came into contact with anarchist ideas were cultural and social centres known as ateneos or athenaeums, which were interconnected with the anarchist trade union movement. An ateneo typically featured a cafe, library, reading rooms, meeting rooms for anarchist and neighbourhood groups, and an auditorium for formal debates, public talks and artistic performances. The walls of the building were decorated with signifiers of anarchism, such as portraits of famous revolutionaries and red and black banners. During periods of state repression when trade unions were forced underground, ateneos were generally able to remain open and thereby ensure the on-going existence of an anarchist presence within working class communities. The ateneos were funded and run by workers in their spare time, such as the La Torrassa Rationalist Athenaeum in Barcelona which was set up and paid for by a group of anarchist brick-makers in the early 1930s. The building’s furniture was provided by anarchist carpenters. The workers who participated in ateneos organised a wide range of educational and leisure activities in their spare time. This included day schools for working-class children, evening classes for adult workers, theatre clubs which would perform radical plays, singing and musical groups, family picnics, and hiking clubs which allowed poor urban workers to experience the beauty of nature in the countryside and along the coast. The wide range of activities which ateneos organised led to workers who participated within them to change themselves in multiple directions, such as gaining the confidence to speak before a crowd, learning to read and write, and acquiring an in-depth understanding of why capitalism and the state should be abolished. In so doing they experienced first hand one of the main goals of anarchism: the many-sided development of human beings as an end in and of itself.

Through participating in ateneos workers not only developed themselves but also formed social bonds with one another and became members of the anarchist movement. A significant number of anarchist militants, especially women, first encountered anarchist ideas and entered into anarchist social networks through their participation in the ateneos when they were children and teenagers. This process was facilitated by print media. Anarchist periodicals informed readers of the existence of ateneos. Ateneos, in turn, taught workers to read and write and contained libraries of anarchist books, pamphlets and periodicals. This can be seen in the experiences of Soledad Estorach, who arrived in Barcelona at the age of fifteen and soon learned about anarchism through the journal La Revista Blanca. She read articles by Soledad Gustavo and decided to travel to Gustavo’s address, which was printed in the paper. Gustavo told Estorach to go to an ateneo. Upon arrival she met an old man who showed her the library. She recalled being “entranced by all those books” and feeling “that all the world’s knowledge was now within my reach” (Quoted in Ackelsberg 2005, 86). In the years that followed Estorach became a key participate within the CNT and Mujeres Libres, which was an anarchist organisation that focused on women’s emancipation. Young people not only received an anarchist education in ateneos but also gained experiences of anarchist organising. In 1932 youth groups which had emerged from ateneos in Granada, Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia formed the Iberian Federation of Libertarian Youth (FIJL). The FIJL, which was an independent organisation linked with the CNT, came to be viewed as one of the main pillars of the anarchist movement. On several occasions ateneos were the avenue through which workers mobilised to participate in demonstrations and strikes. Money raised by the ateneo in the La Torrassa neighbourhood funded not only its activities but also the wider social movement, including the CNT’s prisoner support committee which helped imprisoned anarchists and their families. Ateneos were, in other words, social spaces which facilitated working class self-education, recreation, and class struggle (Ackelsberg 2005, 84-8; Ealham 2010, 45-7; Ealham 2015, 50-5; Evans 2020, 23. For a Spanish anarchist advocating human development see Mella 2020, 6-9).

One of the main services which ateneos provided to workers, be they adults or children, were educational classes. This occurred as part of a wider emphasis on pedagogy and schools within the anarchist movement. Anarchists advocated the formation of secular schools which were independent of the church and the state, taught boys and girls together in the same classes, and emphasised the development of both physical and mental capacities. In the early years of the movement anarchist teachers worked at secular schools run by republicans. Over time anarchists began to establish their own schools. This most notably included the Modern School established by Fransisco Ferrer in Barcelona. The school was founded in September 1901 with a class of thirty pupils. The number of students gradually increased over the following years and by 1905 126 pupils attended the school. The school did not last long and was permanently closed by the Spanish state in 1906 following an unsuccessful attempt to assassinate the King of Spain. Three years later in 1909 Ferrer was arrested and executed by the Spanish state after he was falsely charged with having orchestrated a week long working class insurrection against army reservists being called up to fight in Morocco. This had the effect that Ferrer was transformed from a relatively obscure figure into an internationally famous martyr who inspired anarchists around the world to create modern schools of their own. The majority of anarchist schools in Spain were not as well funded as Ferrer’s Modern School. Outside of Catalonia they were typically rooms which lacked equipment and trained teachers. These rooms were often used for multiple purposes, such as the anarchist ran school in Cádiz which was located in the meeting room of the city’s metalworkers society (Avrich 2006, 3-31; Bray and Haworth 2019, 1-43; Smith 2012, 158-60; Yeoman 2020, 151-6). Despite these limitations anarchist schools could still have a significant impact on workers who attended them. One worker claimed, “I’m Andalusian and I moved to l’Hospitalet when I was nearly 10 years old. I learnt everything I know from the anarchists. I was 14 or 15 and I didn’t know how to read or write. I learnt at the night school organised by the libertarians” (Quoted in Ealham 2010, 47).

The manner in which different aspects of anarchist counter-culture intermixed with and supported one another can be seen in the Centre for Social Studies, which was founded in 1898 in the large town of La Línea. Anarchist workers from a variety of occupations were affiliated with the centre. According to a 1901 report, this included 347 carpenters, 450 construction workers, 200 painters, 210 iron and metal workers, 80 quarrymen and stonemasons, 80 cork-makers, 120 boot-makers, 120 tobacco-workers and 423 from varied industries. This last category of worker mostly consisted of casual and farm labourers. Later reports from 1902 establish that between 4,000 and 8,000 workers were affiliated with the centre. In 1901 the centre launched a new school which was located on the premises. This occasion was heralded with a large public event that featured poetry recitals, the unveiling of portraits of the anarchist Fermín Salvochea and the novelist Émile Zola, and lectures on such topics as god, the state, capitalism and the history of anarchism in Spain. The school’s main teacher was Ernesto Álvarez, who edited the anarchist paper La Protesta. Álvarez was able to become a teacher at the school due to the fact that his salary was paid for the various workers’ societies who were affiliated with the centre. By the end of 1901 the new school was teaching 180 children reading and writing and had begun to expand into adult education. This included French night classes where the teaching methods and classroom rules were decided upon by the students themselves. Gabriela Alcalde, who was another teacher at the school, ran night classes for women which taught them embroidery and needlework. These were organised in order to provide women with skills that could enable them to gain economic independence and no longer have to work as domestic servants. The school, which in 1902 claimed to be educating 400 children and 22 adults, was shut down by the Spanish state following a series of protests and riots in the town (Yeoman 2020, 157-9, 183, note 309).

The various aspects of anarchist counter-culture were generally underpinned by the expectation that those most committed to anarchism would transform themselves and become what was called a ‘conscious worker’. To be a conscious worker was, at the very least, to be an active participant within the trade union and collective struggles in the workplace and community. It was also believed to require various lifestyle changes in which a worker led by example and abandoned alcoholism, tobacco, gambling, visiting brothels, and watching bull fights in favour of reading, studying, and discussing anarchist ideas. It was for this reason that anarchist social centres typically prohibited the consumption of alcohol on the premises and served non-alcoholic drinks, such as unfermented grape juice (Mintz 2004, 85-7; Smith 2007, 160-1; Yeoman 2020, 131). Despite the best efforts of the most committed anarchists, the majority of other workers appear to have preferred having a fun night out. For example, the anarchist militant Manuel de los Reyes responded to a sociology lecture in Cádiz being badly attended by writing an angry article in the periodical  El Proletario. During the article he labelled those who had not shown up as “cowards” and “traitors”. He complained, “why do you not frequent the society where they are able and want to educate you, and not the taverns that are nothing more than centres of corruption? . . . why do you not school yourselves?” (Quoted in Yeoman 2020, 161). Some anarchist workers went further and embraced a cluster of alternative lifestyles known as naturalism, which included vegetarianism, nudism and only eating uncooked foods (Mintz 2004, 87-8). These anarchists made a surprise appearance in the CNT’s 1936 Zaragoza congress resolutions on libertarian communism. The CNT’s resolutions, which mostly covered such topics as the armed defence of the revolution and the construction of a large-scale bottom-up planned economy, also featured the caveat that “naturist/nudist communes” would be free to autonomously self-manage themselves. It was stipulated that since no commune can be entirely self-sufficient, even if it is populated by nudists who only eat uncooked fruits and vegetables, naturalist communes would be able to form voluntary agreements with the federations of workplace and community councils that the majority of the anarchist movement would construct (Peirats 2011, 104-5).

One of the main ways in which anarchists attempted to implement their ideals in daily life was free love. Free love referred to voluntary sexual relationship between equals which occurred outside of marriage. These relationships were free in the sense that if one partner wanted they could voluntarily disassociate, end the relationship, and date new people. These relationships were overwhelmingly monogamous and articles advocating free love often clarified that they were not endorsing polyamory or promiscuity. Although there were some anarchists at the time who today would be regarded as queer, such as the lesbian Lucía Sánchez Saornil, anarchist discussions of free love focused on heterosexual relationships between a man and a woman. In practice a significant number of anarchists did not fully implement the ideas of free love and decided to instead form voluntary secular marriages which occurred independently of the Catholic church (Ackelsberg 2005, 47-52, 172; Mintz 2004, 91-9; Yeoman 2020, 138-41). In a country where Catholicism was a dominant social force, those anarchists who decided to have secular marriages known as ‘free unions’ faced hostility and prejudice from other members of their community. For example in Casas Viejas, Antonia wanted to enter into a secular marriage with Pepe. Her father, who was a member of the local anarchist led trade union, was against the idea and violently hit her after she refused to leave Pepe. Antonia recalled,

since I didn’t answer him, he started to beat me. There were some shoes hanging there, and he seized them and started to beat me black and blue. My sister grabbed my father by the legs, but he kept beating me. He hit me such a hard blow on the head that he could have killed me. I ran out and went up to the vegetable patch on the slope. I had to run around a tree, and when I turned around—my father was behind me, running. I reached the house of a neighbor. When my father got to the neighbor’s small patio, he had to stop. He couldn’t enter. (Quoted in Mintz 2004, 97)

Despite these traumatic events Antonia and Pepe married a few days later at a secular wedding attended by local anarchists. Antonia wore the clothes she had run away in since she was unable to safely return home. After the wedding Pepe would see Antonia’s father in the street and greet him but he would never reply. Antonia similarly recalls that one day she greeted her father and he responded by shouting at her to leave and get out of his sight. Although Antonia’s father came to accept the situation and regret his behaviour, these events provide an illustrative example of the obstacles practitioners of free love and secular marriages had to overcome in a deeply religious and patriarchal society (Mintz 2004, 98-9). This is not to say that anarchist men were perfect. The evidence which is available indicates that anarchist men were generally sexist towards women in the movement and expected their partners to do the majority of childcare and housework. In 1935 Lola Iturbe complained that anarchist men “however radical they may be in cafés, unions and even affinity groups, seem to drop their costumes as lovers of female liberation at the doors of their homes. Inside, they behave with their compañeras just like common ‘husbands’” (Quoted in  Ackelsberg 2005, 115).

Anarchist parents rejected the religious baptism ceremonies of the Catholic church in favour of simply registering the name of the child. These registrations often included a communal event where revolutionary songs were sung and local children would read anarchist texts aloud. It was common for anarchist parents to give their children distinctly anarchist names. Some children were named after abstract concepts, such as Anarchy, Germinal, and Fraternity. One couple went so far as to name one of their children Free Proletarian, who sadly died shortly after birth. Other anarchist parents named their children after famous rebellious figures, such as Spartacus and Kropotkin, or famous scientists, such as Archimedes, Galileo, and Darwin (Yeoman 2020, 139-41). The birth and secular  registration of children was reported upon and celebrated in the anarchist press as examples of workers living in accordance with anarchist ideals. In April 1910 Tierra y Libertad reported that,

A beautiful boy with the delightful name of Palmiro has been brought to the civil register of Medina Sidonia as the son of the compañeros Maria de los Santos Bollullo and José Olmo, the first offspring of their free union. Our sincere congratulations to these compañeros for the strength of their convictions in removing themselves from the bureaucratic procedures used by the black-clothed priests (Quoted in Mintz 2004, 95).

Given the above historical overview, an understanding of how social movements are able to grow and significantly alter society requires an examination of both huge moments of protest and rebellion and the smaller day-to-day activities which sustained and  expanded social movements over time. Between the late 19th and early 20th century anarchists in Spain successfully organised the largest mass anarchist movement in history. This mass movement was centred on trade unionism within the CNT and the organisation of strikes. Anarchists in Spain did not limit themselves to a narrow conception of trade unionism and also engaged in a wide variety of other activities. One of the main activities they engaged in was the construction of a vibrant working class counter-culture centred on print media, education and art. The creation and transmission of this culture was facilitated by the establishment of anarchist social spaces, including co-operatives, schools and social centres known as ateneos. Through this counter-culture anarchists were able to spread their ideas, establish contact with the wider working class community, and sustain their commitment to anarchism over time, especially during periods of state repression. Their cultural activities, in short, promoted and supported class struggle from below and were interconnected with a revolutionary social movement. It was therefore distinct from much of what passes for counter-culture today, which often consists of the formation of an identity through the purchasing and consumption of commodities.

It is of course the case that anarchists alive today cannot simply copy what worked in the past onto the present and expect similar results. What was once extremely radical, such as having secular weddings and funerals, are now for large parts of the world a common thing to do. It is very difficult to create hundreds of ateneos in a context where buildings and land are extremely expensive and the rent is too damn high. Nor is it the case that every aspect of historical anarchist counter-culture was a good idea. No child should have to suffer the negative consequences of their anarchist parents naming them Anarchy or Free Proletarian. It is also important to not romanticise historical anarchists and ignore their failings. The brickmaker José Peirats played a key role in the history of the CNT and the construction of anarchist counter-culture. He was also a sexist homophobe (Ealham 2015, 206-8). Despite these limitations the study of historical anarchist counter-culture in Spain can serve as a source of inspiration in the present. It should merely be kept in mind that, even if counter-culture is a necessary condition for the development and reproduction of mass revolutionary movements, it is not a sufficient condition. As historical anarchists in Spain were well aware, social change requires that workers organise and take direct action against the ruling classes. Counter-culture is important but it is no substitute for what Kropotkin once referred to as the formation of “workers’ organisations” which engage in “the direct struggle of Labour against Capital and its protector,—the State” (Kropotkin 2014, 189).

Bibliography

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Kropotkin, Peter. 2014. Direct Struggle Against Capital: A Peter Kropotkin Anthology. Oakland, CA: AK Press. Edited by Iain McKay.

Reclus. 2013. Anarchy, Geography, Modernity: Selected Writings of Élisée Reclus. Edited by John Clark and Camille Martin. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

Parsons, Lucy. 2004. Freedom, Equality and Solidarity: Writings and Speeches, 1878-1937. Edited by Gale Ahrens. Chicago: Charles H. Kerr Publishing Company.

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Ealham, Chris. 2010. Anarchism and the City: Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Barcelona, 1898-1937. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Ealham, Chris. 2015. Living Anarchism: José Peirats and the Spanish Anarcho-Syndicalist Movement. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

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Mintz, Jerome R. 2004. The Anarchists of Casas Viejas. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Peirats, José. 2011. The CNT in the Spanish Revolution Volume 1. Edited by Chris Ealham. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

Shaffer, Kirwin. 2019. Anarchist Cuba: Countercultural Politics in the Early Twentieth Century. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

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Suriano, Juan. 2010. Paradoxes of Utopia: Anarchist Culture and Politics in Buenos Aires, 1890-1910. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Turcato, Davide. 2012. Making Sense of Anarchism: Errico Malatesta’s Experiments in Revolution, 1889-1900. London: Palgrave Macmillan.

Yeoman, James Michael. 2020. Print Culture and the Formation of the Anarchist Movement in Spain, 1890-1915. New York: Routledge.

Zimmer, Kenyon. 2015. Immigrants Against the State: Yiddish and Italian Anarchism in America. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Anarchism and Democracy

Anarchism is a social movement which advocates the abolition of all forms of domination and exploitation in favour of a society based on freedom, equality and co-operation. It holds that this goal can only be achieved if the hierarchical social structures of capitalism and the state are abolished and replaced by a socialist society organised via horizontal free association. Doing so requires a fundamental transformation in how organisations are structured and decisions are made. Capitalism and the state are hierarchical pyramids in which decision-making flows from the top to the bottom. They are based on a division between a minority who monopolise decision-making power and issue commands, and a majority who lack real decision-making power and must ultimately obey the orders of their superiors. A horizontal social structure, in comparison, is one where people collectively self-manage and co-determine the organisation as equals. In an anarchist society there would be no masters or subjects.

Modern anarchists often describe anarchism as democracy without the state. Lorenzo Kom’boa Ervin argued in 1993 that “there is no democracy or freedom under government — whether in the United States, China or Russia. Anarchists believe in direct democracy by the people as the only kind of freedom and self-rule” (Ervin 1993. Also see Milstein 2010, 97-107). Perhaps the most famous advocate of this position was David Graeber. In 2013 Graeber argued that “Anarchism does not mean the negation of democracy”. It instead takes “core democratic principles to their logical conclusion” by proposing that collective decisions should be made via “nonhierarchical forms of direct democracy”. By “democracy” Graeber meant any system of “collective deliberation” based on “full and equal participation” (Graeber 2013, 154, 27, 186).

This endorsement of direct democracy is not a universal position among modern anarchists. A significant number of anarchists have argued that anarchism is fundamentally incompatible with, or at least distinct from, democracy. Their basic argument is that democracy means rule by the people or the majority, whilst anarchism advocates the abolition of all systems of rulership. The word anarchism itself derives from the ancient Greek work anarchos, which means without rulers. Within a democracy decisions are enforced on everyone within a given territory via institutionalised mechanisms of coercion, such as the law, army, police and prisons. Defenders of democracy take this coercive enforcement to be legitimate because the decisions were made democratically, such as every citizen having the right to participate in the decision-making process. Since such coercive enforcement is taken to be incompatible with anarchism’s commitment to free association, it follows that anarchism does not advocate democracy (Gordon 2008, 67-70; Crimethinc 2016).

Anarchists who advocate democracy without the state are themselves in favour of free association. Graeber, for example, advocates a society “where humans only enter those kinds of relations with one another that would not have to be enforced by the constant threat of violence”. As a result, he opposed any system of decision-making in which someone has “the ability . . . to call on armed men to show up and say ‘I don’t care what you have to say about this; shut up and do what you’re told’” (Graeber 2013, 187-8. Also see Milstein 2010, 60-2). Given this, the pro-democracy and anti-democracy anarchists I have examined are advocating the same position in different language. Both advocate collective methods of decision-making in which everyone involved has an equal say. Both argue that this should be achieved via voluntary association and reject the idea that decisions should be imposed on those who reject them via mechanisms of institutionalised coercion, such as the law or police. They just disagree about whether these systems should be called democracy because they use different definitions of that word.

During these debates it is common for anarchists to appeal to the fact that historical anarchists were against what they called democracy. Unfortunately these appeals to anarchist history are often a bit muddled due to people focusing on the words historical anarchists used, rather than their ideas. In this essay I shall explain not only what historical anarchists wrote about democracy but also how they made decisions. I do not think that the history of anarchism can be straight forwardly used to settle the debate on anarchism and democracy. My hope is only that an in-depth knowledge of anarchist history will help modern anarchists think about the topic in more fruitful ways.

The Historical Anarchist Critique of Democracy

The majority of historical anarchists only used the term ‘democracy’ to refer to a system of government which was, at least on paper, based on the rule of the people or the majority. Errico Malatesta wrote that, “anarchists do not accept majority government (democracy), any more than they accept government by the few (aristocracy, oligarchy, or dictatorship by one class or party) nor that of one individual (autocracy, monarchy or personal dictatorship)” (Malatesta 2014, 488). Malatesta did not invent these definitions. He is merely repeating the standard definitions of different forms of government in so called ‘western’ political theory. The same distinction between the government of the many, of the few, and of one individual can be found in earlier theorists such as Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau (Hobbes 1998, 123; Locke 2016, 65-6; Rousseau 1999, 99-100). These standard definitions of different forms of government derived from ancient Greek sources, including Herodotus, Plato and Aristotle (Hansen 1991, 65-9).

The most famous example of a democracy in ancient Greece is Athens during the 5th century BC. In democratic Athens all major decisions were made by majority vote in an assembly attended by adult male citizens. Key government officials were selected at random by lot. The majority of the population – women, slaves, children and foreigners – were excluded and lacked decision-making power in the assembly (Hansen 1991, 304-20).  There is a tendency for modern radicals to argue that the example of 5th century Athens demonstrates that from a historical point of view true democracy is direct democracy. Doing so would be a mistake. As Raekstad has argued, in ancient Greece the word ‘democracy’ did not refer to a specific decision-making system. Ancient Greeks did not have our modern distinction between direct democracy and representative democracy. They instead viewed a city as a democracy if and only if it was ruled by its citizens or at least the majority of its citizens. As a result, cities with fundamentally different systems of decision-making could all be regarded as democracies providing that they were cities based on the collective self-rule of the citizenry (Raekstad 2020).

Aristotle, to give one example, does not only refer to cities where citizens debate and directly vote on decisions in an assembly as a ‘democracy’. He also used the term ‘democracy’ to refer to cities where citizens merely elected government officials who wielded decision-making power, and then held these government officials to account (Hansen 1991, 3; Aristotle 1998, 235-6). Aristotle did so even though he regarded selecting officials via lot as a democratic method and selecting officials via voting as an aristocratic or oligarchical method (ibid, 80-1, 153-5). The reason why is that for Aristotle the key question when determining what to label a city’s constitution is which group of people rule. If a city is ruled by the majority of its citizens, and these citizens are poor in the sense that they do not own a lot of property, then for Aristotle, it is a democracy independently of the decision-making mechanisms through which this rule is achieved (ibid, 100-2, 139-41). A modern person could of course disagree with Aristotle about whether or not citizens who elect representatives truly rule their city. Such a disagreement does not change the fact that in ancient Greece the word ‘democracy’ did not just mean what we call direct democracy.

Between the late 18th and mid 19th centuries the term ‘democracy’ gradually came to refer to governments ruled by parliaments composed of elected representatives who belonged to political parties. These governments claimed to be expressions of the will of the people. It should be kept in mind that these democratic governments were not initially based on universal suffrage. Representatives were at first elected by adult male property owners, who were a minority of the population. Over several decades of struggle from below suffrage was gradually expanded to include most or all adult men and then, largely after WW1, all adult men and women. The gradual expansion of suffrage went alongside various attempts by rulers to prevent genuine universal suffrage, such as wealthy property owners having multiple votes rather than only one, or black people being prevented from registering to vote in the United States (Markoff 2015, 41-76, 83-5, 136-40). This historical context is why when anarchists in the late 19th and early 20th centuries wrote critiques of ‘democracy’ they focused on the representative democracy of bourgeois parliaments, rather than the direct democracy of ancient Athens.

The historical anarchist critique of democracy so understood is as follows. Anarchists began by arguing that the government of the people was impossible. What defenders of democracy referred to as ‘the people’ was an abstraction which did not really exist. The actual population of a country is constituted by distinct individuals with different and contradictory ideas, needs and  aspirations. If people will never agree on everything, then there will never be a unanimous ‘will of the people’. There will only ever be multiple and incompatible wills of different segments of the people. The decisions of governments are imposed on everyone within a country via the law and the violent enforcers of the law, such as the police or judges. A democracy is therefore at best a system of government in which the will of the majority is violently imposed on the minority in the name of an abstraction called ‘the people’ (Malatesta 1995, 77-8).

Such a system of government was rejected by anarchists on the grounds that it is incompatible with freedom. Anarchists were committed to the view that everyone should be free and that, as a result, no one should be dominated.  As Alexander Berkman wrote, in an anarchist society, “[y]ou are to be entirely free, and everybody else is to enjoy equal liberty, which means that no one has a right to compel or force another, for coercion of any kind is interference with your liberty” (Berkman 2003, 156). In advocating this position anarchists were not arguing that violence is always wrong. They viewed violence as legitimate when it was necessary to establish or protect the equal freedom of all, such as in self-defence or to overthrow the ruling classes. (Malatesta 2014, 187-91) The violence of government, however, goes far beyond this since they are institutions which have the power, and claim the exclusive right to, impose their will on everyone within a given territory via force (ibid, 113, 136).

This was a form of domination which anarchists opposed irrespective of whether or not the government was ruled by a minority or a majority.  In Luigi Galleani’s words, even if “the rule of the majority over the minority” were “a mitigated form of tyranny, it would still represent a denial of freedom” (Galleani 2012, 42). Anarchists reject “the domination of a majority over the minority, we aspire to realise the autonomy of the individual within the freedom of association, the independence of his thought, of his life, of his development, of his destiny, freedom from violence, from caprice and from the domination of the majority, as well as of various minorities” (ibid 61. Also see ibid, 50). This opposition to the domination of the majority went alongside the awareness that majorities are often wrong and can have harmful views (Malatesta 2015, 63-4). In a homophobic and transphobic society, for example, the government of the majority would result in laws oppressing queer people.

Anarchists did not, however, think that modern states have ever been based on majority rule. They consistently described them as institutions based on minority rule by a political ruling class in their interests and the interests of the economic ruling class. This included self-described democratic governments. In 1873 Michael Bakunin wrote that,

modern capitalist production and bank speculation . . . get along very nicely, though, with so-called representative democracy. This latest form of the state, based on the pseudo-sovereignty of a sham popular will, supposedly expressed by pseudo-representatives of the people in sham popular assemblies, combines the two main conditions necessary for their success: state centralization, and the actual subordination of the sovereign people to the intellectual minority that governs them, supposedly representing them but invariably exploiting them (Bakunin 1990, 13).

Given this Bakunin thought that,

Between a monarchy and the most democratic republic there is only one essential difference: in the former, the world of officialdom oppresses and robs the people for the greater profit of the privileged and propertied classes, as well as to line its own pockets, in the name of the monarch; in the latter, it oppresses and robs the people in exactly the same way, for the benefit of the same classes and the same pockets, but in the name of the people’s will. In a republic a fictitious people, the ‘legal nation’ supposedly represented by the state, smothers the real, live people. But it will scarcely be any easier on the people if the cudgel with which they are beaten is called the people’s cudgel (Bakunin 1990, 23).

The same position was advocated by Malatesta. He wrote in 1924 that, “even in the most democratic of democracies it is always a small minority that rules and imposes its will and interests by force”. As a result “Democracy is a lie, it is oppression and is in reality, oligarchy; that is, government by the few to the advantage of a privileged class” (Malatesta 1995, 78, 77. Also see Berkman 2003, 71-3). The anarchist critique of democratic governments should not be interpreted as the claim that all forms of government are equally bad. Both Bakunin and Malatesta also claimed that the worst democracy was preferable to the best monarchy or dictatorship (Bakunin 1980, 144; Malatesta 1995, 77).

Given their analysis of the state as an institution which serves the interests of the capitalist class, anarchists concluded that a truly democratic government, where the majority rule, could only possibly be established in a socialist society based on the common ownership of the means of production (Malatesta 1995, 73). They did not, however, think that this could actually happen. Since the modern state is a centralised and hierarchical institution which rules over an extended area of territory, it follows that state power can only in practice be wielded by a minority of elected representatives. These representatives would not be mere delegates mandated to complete a specific tasks. They would be governors who had the power to issue commands and impose their will on others via force or the threat of it. As a result they would constitute a distinct political ruling class. Over time these representatives would be transformed by the activity of exercising state power and become primarily concerned with reproducing and expanding their power over the working classes (Baker 2019).

In rejecting what they called democracy, historical anarchists were not rejecting the idea that collective decisions should be made in general assemblies. Historical anarchists consistently argued that in an anarchist society collective decisions would be made in workplace and community assemblies. Anarchists referred to these assemblies using various terms, such as labour councils,  communes, and associations of production and consumption (Rocker 2004, 47-8; Malatesta 2014, 60; Goldman 1996, 68). The National Confederation of Labour (CNT), which was a Spanish anarcho-syndicalist trade union, proposed in its 1936 Zaragoza congress resolutions that decisions in a libertarian communist society would be made in “general assemblies”, “communal assemblies” and “popular assemblies” (Peirats 2011, 103, 105, 107).

A few historical anarchists did refer to anarchism as democracy without the state but they were in the minority. During the 1930s the Russian anarcho-syndicalist Gregori Maximoff rejected both “Bourgeois democracy” and the “democracy” of “the Soviet republic” on the grounds that, contrary to what they claimed, they were not based on the genuine rule of the people. They were instead states in which a minority ruling class exercised power in order to reproduce the domination and exploitation of the working class. Given this, Maximoff advocated the abolition of the state in favour of the self-management of society via federations of  workplace and community councils. He regarded such a system of self-management as genuine democracy. He wrote, “true democracy, developed to its logical extreme, can become a reality only under the conditions of a communal confederation. This democracy is Anarchy” (Maximoff 2015, 37-8). On another occasion Maximoff declared that “Anarchism is, in the final analysis, nothing but democracy in its purest and most extreme form” (Maximoff n.d., 19). In arguing that anarchism was “true democracy” Maximoff was not advocating different forms of association or decision-making to other anarchists. He was only using different language to describe the same anarchist ideas.

The majority of anarchists did not refer to an anarchist society as ‘true democracy’ because for them ‘democracy’ necessarily referred to a system of government. A key reason why historical anarchists associated ‘democracy’ with government was that anarchism as a social movement emerged in parallel with, and in opposition to, another social movement called Social Democracy. Although the term ‘social democracy’ has come to mean any advocate of a capitalist welfare state, it originally referred to a kind of revolutionary socialist who aimed at the abolition of all forms of class rule. In order to achieve this goal Social Democrats argued that the working class should organise into trade unions and form socialist political parties which engaged in electoral politics. This was viewed as the means through which the working class would both win immediate improvements, such as the eight hour day or legislation against child labour, and overthrow class society through the conquest of state power and the establishment of a workers’ state. Social Democrats argued that in so doing socialist political parties would overthrow bourgeois democracy and establish social or proletarian democracy (Taber 2021). Anarchists responded by making various arguments against Social Democracy, such as critiques of trying to achieve socialism via the conquest of state power. The consequence of this is that one of the main occasions when historical anarchists used the words ‘democracy’ and ‘democrat’ was when they were referring to Social Democracy (Kropotkin 2014, 371-82; Berkman 2003, 89-102).

One of the great ironies of history is that the Russian anarchist Michael Bakunin initially used the language of ‘democracy’. In 1868 he co-founded an organisation called The Alliance of Socialist Democracy and wrote a programme for it which committed the group to the goal of abolishing capitalism and the state (Eckhardt 2016, 3; Bakunin 1973, 173-5). The language of ‘democracy’ was echoed by the anarchist led Spanish section of the 1st International even though it was formally opposed to the strategy of electoral politics. The September 1871 resolutions of the Valencia Conference declared that “the real Federal Democratic Republic is common property, anarchy and economic federation, or in other words the free worldwide federation of free agricultural and industrial worker’s associations” (Eckhardt 2016, 166. For resolutions against electoral politics see ibid, 160). This language did not catch on among anarchists and by 1872 Bakunin had definitely abandoned it. This can be seen in the fact that when he founded a new organisation, which he viewed as the successor to the original Alliance, he decided to name it the Alliance of Social Revolutionaries (Bakunin 1990, 235-6, note 134; Eckhardt 2016, 355).

Historical Anarchist Methods of Decision-Making

Having established what historical anarchists thought about democracy, I shall now turn to their views on collective systems of decision-making. Historical anarchists proposed a variety of different mechanisms through which decisions in general assemblies could be made. It can be difficult to establish how exactly historical anarchists made decisions because it is a topic which does not appear frequently in surviving articles, pamphlets or books. Those sources which are available do nonetheless establish a number of clear positions. Some anarchists advocated majority vote, whilst other anarchists advocated unanimous decisions in which everyone involved had to agree on a proposal. Other anarchists advocated both depending upon the context, such as the size of an organisation or the kind of decision being made. It should be kept in mind that what historical anarchists referred to as systems of ‘unanimous agreement’ was not modern consensus decision-making in different language. I have found no evidence of historical anarchists using the key features of consensus as a process, such as the specific steps a facilitator moves the meeting through or the distinction between standing aside and blocking a proposal.

Malatesta advocated a combination of unanimous agreement and majority voting. He wrote that in an anarchist society “everything is done to reach unanimity, and when this is impossible, one would vote and do what the majority wanted, or else put the decision in the hands of a third party who would act as arbitrator” (Malatesta n.d., 30). This position was articulated in response to other anarchists who thought that all decisions should be made exclusively by unanimous agreement and rejected the use of voting. He recalled that,

in 1893 . . . there were many Anarchists, and even at present there are a few, who, mistaking the form for the essence, and laying more stress on words than on things, made for themselves a sort of ritual of ‘true’ anarchism, which held them in bondage, which paralyzed their power of action, and even led them to make absurd and grotesque assertions. Thus going from the principle: The Majority has no right to impose its will on the minority; they came to the conclusion that nothing should ever be done without the unanimous consent of all concerned. But as they had condemned political elections, which serve only to choose a master, they could not use the ballot as a mere expression of opinion, and considered every form of voting as anti-anarchistic (Malatesta 2016, 17. Also see Turcato 2012, 141).

This opposition to all forms of voting allegedly led to farcical situations. This included endless meetings where nothing was agreed and groups forming to publish a paper and then dissolving without having published anything due to minor disagreements (Malatesta 2016, 17-8). From these experiences Malatesta concluded that “social life” would be impossible if “united action” was only allowed to occur when there was “unanimous agreement”. In situations where it was not possible to implement multiple solutions simultaneously or effective solidarity required a uniform action, “it is reasonable, fair and necessary for the minority to defer to the majority” (Malatesta 2016, 19). To illustrate this point Malatesta gave the example of constructing a railway. He wrote,

If a railroad, for instance, were under consideration, there would be a thousand questions as to the line of the road, the grade, the material, the type of the engines, the location of the stations, etc., etc., and opinions on all these subjects would change from day to day, but if we wish to finish the railroad we certainly cannot go on changing everything from day to day, and if it is impossible to exactly suit everybody, it is certainly better to suit the greatest possible number; always, of course, with the understanding that the minority has all possible opportunity to advocate its ideas, to afford them all possible facilities and materials to experiment, to demonstrate, and to try to become a majority (Malatesta 2016, 18-9).

This is not to say that Malatesta viewed an anarchist society as one where people voted on every decision. He thought that farmers, for example, would not need to vote on what season to plant crops since this is something they already know the answer to. Given this, Malatesta predicted that over time people would need to vote on fewer decisions due to them learning the best solution to various problems from experience (Malatesta n.d., 30).

Malatesta was not alone in disagreeing with anarchists who opposed all systems of voting. During the 1907 International Anarchist Congress in Amsterdam, the Belgian anarchist Georges Thonar argued that the participants should not engage in voting and declared himself “opposed to any vote”. The minutes of the congress claim that this caused “a minor incident. Some participants applaud noisily, while lively protest is also to be heard” (Antonioli 2009, 90). The French anarchist and revolutionary syndicalist Pierre Monatte then gave the following speech,

I cannot understand how yesterday’s vote can be considered anti-anarchist, in other words authoritarian. It is absolutely impossible to compare the vote with which an assembly decides a procedural question to universal suffrage or to parliamentary polls. We use votes at all times in our trade unions and, I repeat, I do not see anything that goes against our anarchist principles.

There are comrades who feel the need to raise questions of principle on everything, even the smallest things. Unable as they are to understand the spirit of our anti-parliamentarianism, they place importance on the mere act of placing a slip of paper in an urn or raising one’s hand to show one’s opinion (Antonioli 2009, 90-1).

Malatesta’s advocacy of majority voting was also shared by other anarchists. The Ukrainian anarchist Peter Arshinov wrote in 1928 that “[a]lways and everywhere, practical problems among us have been resolved by majority vote. Which is perfectly understandable, for there is no other way of resolving these things in an organization that is determined to act” (Arshinov 1928, 241).

The same commitment to majority voting was implemented in the CNT, which had a membership of 850,000 by February 1936. (Ackelsberg 2005, 62) The anarchist José Peirats explained the CNT’s system of decision-making as follows. The CNT was a confederation of trade unions which were “autonomous units” linked together “only by the accords of a general nature adopted at national congresses, whether regular or extraordinary”. As a result of this, individual unions were “free to reach any decision which is not detrimental to the organisation as a whole”. The “guidelines of the Confederation” were decided and directly regulated by the autonomous trade unions themselves. This was achieved through a system in which “the basis for any local, regional, or national decision” was “the general assembly of the union, where every member has the right to attend, raise and discuss issues, and vote on proposals”. The “resolutions” of these assemblies were “adopted by majority vote attenuated by proportional representation”. The agenda of regional or national congresses were “devised by the assemblies” themselves. These general assemblies in turn “debated” each topic on the agenda and after reaching an agreement amongst themselves elected mandated delegates to attend the congress as “the executors of their collective will” (Peirats 2011, 5).

Anarchists who advocated majority voting disagreed about whether or not decisions passed by majority vote should be binding on everyone involved in the decision-making process, or only those who had voted in favour of them. Malatesta argued that the congress resolutions of a federation should only be binding on the sections who had voted for them. He wrote in 1900 that since a federation is a free association which does not have the right “to impose upon the individual federated members” it followed that “any group just like any individual must not accept any collective resolution unless it is worthwhile and agreeable to them”. As a result, decisions made at the federation’s congresses, which were attended by mandated delegates representing each group that composed the federation, were “binding only to those who accept them, and only for as long as they accept them” (Malatesta 2019, 210, 206).

Malatesta repeated this view in 1927. He claimed that congresses of specific anarchist organisations, which are organisations composed exclusively of anarchist militants, “do not lay down the law” or “impose their own resolutions on others”. Their resolutions are only “suggestions, recommendations, proposals to be submitted to all involved, and do not become binding and enforceable except on those who accept them, and for as long as they accept them”. (Malatesta 2014, 489-90) The function of congresses was to,

maintain and increase personal relationships among the most active comrades, to coordinate and encourage programmatic studies on the ways and means of taking action, to acquaint all on the situation in the various regions and the action most urgently needed in each; to formulate the various opinions current among the anarchists and draw up some kind of statistics from them. (ibid, 489. See also ibid, 439-40)

Malatesta’s position on congress resolutions should not be interpreted as the claim that a person could do whatever they wanted within an organisation without consideration for the organisation’s common programme or how their actions effected others. In 1929 he clarified that within an organisation each member should “feel the need to coordinate his actions with those of his fellow members”, “do nothing that harms the work of others and, thus, the common cause” and “respect the agreements that have been made – except when wishing sincerely to leave the association”. He thought that people “who do not feel and do not practice that duty should be thrown out of the association” (Malatesta 1995, 107-8).

A more concrete understanding of what this position on congress resolutions looked like can be established by examining actual anarchist congresses. In 1907 anarchist delegates representing groups in Europe, the United States and Argentina attended the previously mentioned International Anarchist Congress in Amsterdam. Proposals or resolutions at the congress were adopted by majority vote and each delegate had a single vote. How this was implemented varied depending upon the kind of decision being made. On the first day of the congress there was a disagreement about the agenda. One faction proposed that the topic of anti-militarism should be removed from the agenda and that this topic should instead be discussed at the separate congress of the International Antimilitarist Association. The other faction argued that the anarchists would have to formulate a position on anti-militarism at their anarchist congress before they attended a distinct congress attended by people who were not anarchists. The first proposal won 33 votes and the second 38 votes. Since only one proposal could be implemented the majority position won and the congress included anti-militarism on its agenda (Antonioli 2009, 36-7. For the later discussion on anti-militarism see ibid, 137-8).

Over several days the congress passed a variety of resolutions via majority vote. These resolutions were not binding on the minority. As the Dutch delegate Christiaan Cornelissen explained, “[v]oting is to be condemned only if it binds the minority. This is not the case here, and we are using the vote as an easy means of determining the size of the various opinions that are being confronted” (ibid, 91). The proposed resolution against alcohol consumption was not even put to a formal vote due to almost every delegate being opposed to it (ibid, 150-52). In situations where there was no need to have a single resolution, multiple resolutions were passed providing that each received a majority vote. This occurred when four slightly different resolutions on syndicalism and the general strike were adopted (ibid, 132-5). The congress minutes respond to this situation by claiming,

The reader may be rather surprised that these four motions could have all been passed, given the evident contradictions between them. It defies the parliamentary norm, but it is a conscious transgression. In order that the opinion of the majority not suffocate, or seem to suffocate, that of the minority, the majority presented the single motions one by one for vote. All four had a majority of votes for. In consequence, all four were approved (ibid, 135).

Other anarchists argued that decisions passed by majority vote should be binding on every member of the organisation. In June 1926 a group of anarchists, who had participated in the Russian revolution and been forced to flee to Paris to escape Bolshevik repression, issued the Organisational Platform of the General Union of Anarchists (Draft). The text made a series of proposals about how specific anarchist organisations should be structured. This included the position that the collectively made decisions of congresses should be binding on every section and member of a specific anarchist organisation such that everyone involved is expected to carry out the majority decision. The platform states that,

such an agreement and the federal union based on it, will only become reality, rather than fiction or illusion, on the conditions sine qua non that all the participants in the agreement and the Union fulfil most completely the duties undertaken, and conform to communal decisions. In a social project, however vast the federalist basis on which it is built, there can be no decisions without their execution. It is even less admissible in an anarchist organisation, which exclusively takes on obligations with regard to the workers and their social revolution. Consequently, the federalist type of anarchist organisation, while recognising each member’s rights to independence, free opinion, individual liberty and initiative, requires each member to undertake fixed organisation duties, and demands execution of communal decisions (The Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad 1926a. Also see Arshinov 1928, 240-1).

Within a specific anarchist organisation differences of opinion about its programme, tactics and strategy would of course emerge. In such situations the authors of The Platform later clarified that there were three main potential outcomes. In the case of “insignificant differences” the minority would defer to the majority position in order to maintain “the unity” of the organisation. If “the minority were to consider sacrificing its view point an impossibility” then further “discussion” would occur. This would either culminate in an agreement being formed such that “two divergent opinions and tactics” co-existed with one another or there would be “a split with the minority breaking away from the majority to found a separate organisation” (Group of Russian Anarchists Abroad 1926b, 218).

The position that decisions passed by majority vote should be binding on every member of the organisation was not a uniquely platformist one. The CNT’s constitution, which was printed on each membership card, declared that “Anarcho-syndicalism and anarchism recognise the validity of majority decisions”. Although the CNT recognised “the sovereignty of the individual” and a militant’s right to have their own point of view and defend it, members of the CNT were “obliged to comply with majority decisions” and “accept and agree to carry out the collective mandate taken by majority decision” even when they are against a militant’s “own feelings”. This position was justified on the grounds that, “[w]ithout this there is no organisation” (Quoted in Peirats 1974, 19-20).

Members of the CNT did nonetheless disagree about whether or not this system of majority voting, in which decisions were binding on all members, should be applied to much smaller specific anarchist organisations. The Iberian Anarchist Federation (FAI) was a specific anarchist organisation composed of affinity groups. These affinity groups had between 4 and 20 members. The FAI initially made most of their decisions via unanimous agreement and rarely used voting. In 1934 the Z and Nervio affinity groups pushed for the FAI to adopt binding agreements established through majority vote. The Afinidad affinity group agreed with the necessity of such a system within the CNT but opposed it being implemented within small specific anarchist organisations or affinity groups. After a confrontational FAI meeting Afinidad left the organisation in protest (Ealham 2015, 77; Guillamón 2014, 28-9).

Conclusion

Having systematically gone through the evidence, it is clear that modern and historical anarchists advocate the same core positions. What many modern anarchists label as democracy without the state, historical anarchists just called free association or anarchy. At least one historical anarchist, Maximoff, referred to anarchism as democracy without the state several decades before it became a popular expression. Historical anarchists made decisions via majority vote, unanimous agreement or a combination of the two. Modern anarchists use the same basic systems of decision-making. The main difference is that modern anarchists often use consensus decision-making processes, which historical anarchists did not use.

This, in turn, raises the question of whether or not anarchists should use the language of democracy. In a society where people have been socialised to view democracy as a good thing, it can be beneficial to describe anarchism as a kind of direct democracy. Yet doing so also comes with potential downsides, such as people confusing anarchism for the idea that society should be run by an extremely democratic state that makes decisions within general assemblies and then imposes these decisions on everyone via the institutionalised violence of the law, police and prisons. Independently of what language modern anarchists choose to use, our task remains the same as historical anarchists: during the course of the class struggle we must develop, through a process of experimentation in the present, the forms of association, deliberation and decision-making which simultaneously enable effective action and prefigure a society with neither master nor subject.

Bibliography

Ackelsberg, Martha. 2005. Free Women of Spain: Anarchism and the Struggle for the Emancipation of Women. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Antonioli, Maurizio, ed. The International Anarchist Congress Amsterdam (1907). Edmonton: Black Cat Press, 2009.

Aristotle. 1998. Politics. Translated by Ernest Barker. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Arshinov, Peter. 1928. “The Old and New in Anarchism: Reply to Comrade Malatesta (May 1928).” In Facing the Enemy: A History of Anarchist Organisation from Proudhon to May 1968, edited by Alexandre Skirda, 237–42. Oakland, CA: AK Press, 2002.

Baker, Zoe. 2019. Means and Ends: The Anarchist Critique of Seizing State Power.

Bakunin, Michael. 1973. Selected Writings. Edited by Arthur Lehning. London: Jonathan Cape.

Bakunin, Michael. 1980. Bakunin on Anarchism. Edited by Sam Dolgoff. Montréal: Black Rose Books.

Bakunin, Michael. 1990. Statism and Anarchy. Edited by Marshall Shatz. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Berkman, Alexander. 2003. What is Anarchism? Oakland, CA: AK Press

Crimethinc. 2016. From Democracy to Freedom.

Ealham, Chris. 2015. Living Anarchism: José Peirats and the Spanish Anarcho-Syndicalist Movement. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Eckhardt, Wolfgang. 2016. The Fist Socialist Schism: Bakunin VS. Marx in the International Working Men’s Association. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

Ervin. Lorenzo Kom’boa. 1993. Anarchism and the Black Revolution.

Galleani, Luigi. 2012. The End of Anarchism?. London: Elephant Editions.

Goldman, Emma. 1996. Red Emma Speaks: An Emma Goldman Reader. Edited by Alix Kates Shulman. 3rd ed. New Jersey: Humanities Press.

Gordon, Uri. 2008. Anarchy Alive:Anti-authoritarian Politics from Practice to Theory. London: Pluto Press.

Graeber, David. 2013. The Democracy Project: A History, a Crisis, a Movement. London: Allen Lane.

Guillamón, Agustín. 2014. Ready for Revolution: The CNT Defence Committees in Barcelona 1933-1938. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Hansen, Mogens Herman. 1991. The Athenian Democracy in the Age of Demosthenes: Structure, Principles and Ideology. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.

Hobbes, Thomas. 1998. Leviathan. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Kropotkin, Peter. 2014. Direct Struggle Against Capital: A Peter Kropotkin Anthology. Edited by Iain McKay. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Locke, John. 2016. Second Treatise of Government and Letter Concerning Toleration. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Maximoff, Gregori. 2015. Program of Anarcho-Syndicalism. Guillotine Press

Maximoff, Gregori. n.d. Constructive Anarchism.

Malatesta, Errico. n.d. Between Peasants: A Dialogue on Anarchy. Johannesburg: Zabalaza Books.

Malatesta, Errico. 1995. The Anarchist Revolution: Polemical Articles 1924-1931. Edited by Vernon Richards. London: Freedom Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2014. The Method of Freedom: An Errico Malatesta Reader. Edited by Davide Turcato. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2015. Life and Ideas: The Anarchist Writings of Errico Malatesta. Edited by Vernon Richards. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2016. A Long and Patient Work: The Anarchist Socialism of L’Agitazione 1897-1898. Edited by Davide Turcato. Chico, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2019. Towards Anarchy: Malatesta in America 1899-1900. Edited by Davide Turcato. Chico, CA: AK Press.

Markoff, John. 2015. Waves of Democracy: Social Movements and Political Change. Paradigm Publishers.

Milstein, Cindy. 2010. Anarchy and Its Aspirations. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

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Turcato, Davide. 2012. Making Sense of Anarchism: Errico Malatesta’s Experiments With Revolution, 1889-1900. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

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Anarchists Are Not Naive About Human Nature

In the popular imagination anarchists are assumed to be naive optimists. It is thought that anyone who thinks humans can live a good life without capitalism and the state must do so because they think humans are angels who are naturally caring and benevolent. Anarchists in the 19th and early 20th centuries in fact had a very nuanced understanding of human nature.

Anarchists thought that all human beings across all societies have some characteristics in common. Michael Bakunin wrote that the key elements of “human existence” will “always remain the same: to be born, to develop and grow; to work in order to eat and drink, in order to have shelter and defend oneself, in order to maintain one’s individual existence in the social equilibrium of his own species, to love, reproduce and then to die” (Bakunin 1964, 85-6). The exact same point is made by Rudolf Rocker. He claimed that,

We are born, absorb nourishment, discard the waste material, move, procreate and approach dissolution without being able to change any part of the process. Necessities eventuate here which transcend our will . . . We are not compelled to consume our food in the shape nature offers it to us or to lie down to rest in the first convenient place, but we cannot keep from eating or sleeping, lest our physical existence should come to a sudden end (Rocker 1937, 24).

Since these common characteristics are constant across all human beings they must stem from certain basic facts about human biology. Anarchists did not, however, regard human nature as a static unchanging entity. Humans are, just like all species of animal, subject to evolutionary change via various processes including natural selection. As a result of this, Peter Kropotkin thought that there were “fundamental features of human character” which could “only be mediated by a very slow evolution” (Kropotkin 1895). Nor did anarchists view human nature as an abstract essence which exists outside of history. Anarchists distinguished between the innate characteristics which constitute all human beings and the manner in which these innate characteristics are developed during a person’s life within a historically specific society. Bakunin thought that although humans possessed innate “faculties and dispositions” which are “natural” it was “the organisation of society” which “develops them, or on the other hand halts, or falsifies their development”. Given this, “all individuals, with no exception, are at every moment of their lives what Nature and society have made them” (Bakunin 1964, 155). Kropotkin similarly wrote that “man is a result of both his inherited instincts and his education” (Kropotkin 2006, 228).

Anarchists thought that one of the main processes which modifies and develops the innate characteristics of human nature is human activity itself. Anarchists conceptualised human activity in terms of practice. Humans engage in practice when they deploy their capacities to satisfy a psychological drive and through doing so change the world and themselves simultaneously. For example, when a person makes a sandwich they deploy their relevant capacities, such as being able to spread jam on bread, in order to satisfy their drive for a jam sandwich. In so doing they change the world – a jam sandwich now exists where before there was none – and they change themselves – they acquire the drive to have sandwiches with other kinds of jam or reproduce their capacity to make a sandwich. This idea can be seen in Kropotkin’s advocacy of “teaching which, by the practice of the hand on wood, stone, metal, will speak to the brain and help to develop it” and thereby produce a child whose brain is “developed at once by the work of hand and mind” (Kropotkin 2014, 645).

If the capacities and drives a person has are continually determined by practice, and the practice people engage in varies across different social and historical contexts, then what capacities and drives people have, in turn, varies both socially and historically. This idea can be clearly seen in anarchist discussions of psychological drives, which were historically called needs. Luigi Galleani thought that when a human being develops themselves they acquire “a series of ever-more, growing and varied needs claiming satisfaction” which “vary, not only according to time and place, but also according to the temperament, disposition and development of each individual” (Galleani 2012, 43, 45).

The consequence of the theory of practice was that even capacities and drives which are universal among human beings are always mediated through and developed by historically specific forms of practice. All human being, for example, have the drive to consume water but how they do so and what specific kinds of liquid they have a drive to consume varies between and within societies. One person may satisfy their drive for liquid through drinking tea from a mug, whilst another person drinks milk from a glass through a straw. The universal capacities and drives which all human beings possess (except in cases of pathology) are, in turn, what enable people within specific contexts to develop historically specific capacities and drives. The universal capacity to acquire language, for example, enables human beings to invent, learn and alter a vast array of different specific languages such as French, Mandarin and Welsh. The characteristics which all humans have in common are, in other words, the foundation from which the great diversity of human life emerges. The extent to which anarchists thought this was the case can be seen in the fact that several anarchists claim that there is an infinite number of different kinds of person. Errico Malatesta, for example, wrote that in an anarchist society “the full potential of human nature could develop in its infinite variations” (Malatesta 2014, 402).

This was not to say that humans could transform themselves into anything they wanted. The nature of the innate characteristics which constitute all human beings places definite limits on what they can be shaped into. Humans cannot morph their arms into wings, their feet into claws or their hair into feathers. Although a human can develop themselves in many different directions, the scope of what they can possibly become is limited by the kind of animal that they are. As Rocker wrote, “man is unconditionally subject only to the laws of his physical being. He cannot change his constitution. He cannot suspend the fundamental conditions of his physical being nor alter them according to his wish” (Rocker 1937, 27).

Anarchists thought that human beings were social animals who had a tendency to engage in two main kinds of behaviour: struggle and co-operation. Malatesta wrote that humans possessed the “harsh instinct of wanting to predominate and to profit at the expense of others” and “the thirst for domination, rivalry, envy and all the unhealthy passions which set man against man”. These negative passions co-existed with “another feeling which draws him closer to his neighbour, the feeling of sympathy, tolerance, of love”. As a result human history contained “violence, wars, carnage (besides the ruthless exploitation of the labour of others) and innumerable tyrannies and slavery” alongside “mutual aid, unceasing and voluntary exchange of services, affection, love, friendship and all that which draws people closer together in brotherhood”. From these facts Malatesta drew the conclusion that human beings were “a social animal whose existence depends on the continued physical and spiritual relations between human beings” which are “based either on affinity, solidarity and love, or on hostility and struggle” (Malatesta 2015, 65-6, 68).

The same position was advocated by Kropotkin. It is sometimes falsely claimed that Kropotkin only focused on the second tendency of human beings to co-operate with one another and ignored the darker side of human nature. This stems from a lack of familiarity with Kropotkin’s book Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution. As the book’s subtitle and introduction makes clear, Kropotkin thought that mutual aid was one among several factors of evolution, rather than the sole factor (Kropotkin 2006, xvii-xviii). Kropotkin expanded upon this point in chapter 1. He argued that a naturalist would be wrong to view “the life of animals” as only “a field of slaughter” or “nothing but harmony and peace” (Kropotkin 2006, 4). The animal world instead featured both conflict and co-operation. He wrote,

as we study animals . . . we at once perceive that though there is an immense amount of warfare and extermination going on amidst various species, and especially amidst various classes of animals, there is, at the same time, as much, or perhaps even more, of mutual support, mutual aid, and mutual defence amidst animals belonging to the same species or, at least, to the same society. Sociability is as much a law of nature as mutual struggle (Kropotkin 2006, 4-5).

Kropotkin thought that human beings were not different from other animals in this respect. He wrote in his book Ethics: Origin and Development that there are “two sets of diametrically opposed feelings which exist in man”. These “are the feelings which induce man to subdue other men in order to utilise them for his individual ends” and the feelings which “induce human beings to unite for attaining common ends by common effort”. The first corresponds “to that fundamental need of human nature – struggle” and the second to the “equally fundamental tendency – the desire of unity and mutual sympathy” (Kropotkin 1924, 22). Charlotte Wilson similarly wrote that “the history of men living in a social state is one long record of a never-ending contest between certain opposing natural impulses developed by the life in common.” This “struggle” which humans observe “within our own nature and in the world of men around us” occurred between “the anti-social desire to monopolise and dominate, and the social desires which find their highest expression in fraternity” (Wilson 2000, 38-9).

Anarchists did not think that there was a strict dichotomy between domination and co-operation such that a social structure only ever contained one or the other. Anarchists understood that people can co-operate with one another to engage in domination, such as the police working together in order to effectively beat up protesters. It is furthermore the case that institutions which are based on domination are generally reproduced through co-operative social relations. Under capitalism, for example, workers are subject to domination and exploitation by the capitalist who employs them. Yet these same capitalist businesses would quickly go bankrupt if workers did not co-operate with one another in order to collectively produce various goods or services (Malatesta 2014, 121-6).

Anarchists repeatedly emphasized both the good and the bad aspects of human beings in their overviews of history. Within Mutual Aid Kropotkin noted multiple examples of the San people in South Africa co-operating and being sympathetic towards one another, such as hunting in common, engaging in affectionate behaviour, and rescuing someone if they were drowning in water (Kropotkin 2006, 72-3). This went alongside Kropotkin noting examples of domination. He wrote,

when Europeans settled in their territory and destroyed deer, the Bushmen began stealing the settlers’ cattle, whereupon a war of extermination, too horrible to be related here, was waged against them. Five hundred Bushmen were slaughtered in 1775, three thousand in 1808 and 1809 . . . They were poisoned like rats, killed by hunters lying in ambush before the carcass of some animal, killed whenever met with. So that our knowledge of the Bushmen, being chiefly borrowed from those same people who exterminated them, is necessarily limited (Kropotkin 2006, 72).

Far from being naive about human nature, anarchists were extremely aware of the fact that humans are capable of committing atrocities against one another. Anarchists, in addition to this, thought that the extent to which human beings engaged in domination or co-operation varied significantly between different contexts. Kropotkin wrote,

the relative amounts of individualist and mutual aid spirit are among the most changeable features of man. Both being equally products of an anterior development, their relative amounts are seen to change in individuals and even societies with a rapidity which would strike the sociologist if he only paid attention to the subject, and analysed the corresponding facts (Kropotkin 1895).

Given their conception of human nature, anarchists thought that the main reason for this variation in human behaviour was differences in people’s environment and the forms of practice they engaged in and were subject to. This led anarchists to argue that the oppression and exploitation which occurred within existing society was not the product of human nature considered in isolation. They instead stemmed from the manner in which the raw materials of human nature were developed through participation within social structures. To quote Malatesta, “social wrongs do not depend on the wickedness of one master or the other, one governor or the other, but rather on masters and governments as institutions; therefore, the remedy does not lie in changing the individual rulers, instead it is necessary to demolish the principle itself by which men dominate over men” (Malatesta 2014, 415).

Anarchists viewed capitalism and the state as hierarchical social structures based on a division between a minority who command and a majority who obey. They are pyramids in which decision making flows from the top to the bottom. The majority of the population are workers who lack real decision making power over the nature of their life, workplace, community or society as a whole. They are instead subject to the rule of an economic ruling class – capitalists, bankers, heads of state owned companies etc – and a political ruling class – politicians, heads of the police, generals etc. The decisions of the ruling classes are, in turn, implemented by a vast array of individuals raised up above the rest of the population and granted special powers of command, such as corporate managers, police officers and prison guards.

Those at the top of hierarchies not only wield power over others but are also transformed and corrupted through doing so due to the forms of practice they are engaging in. Bakunin argued that,

Nothing is as dangerous for man’s personal morality as the habit of commanding. The best of men, the most intelligent, unselfish, generous, and pure, will always and inevitably be corrupted in this pursuit. Two feelings inherent in the exercise of power never fail to produce this demoralization: contempt for the masses, and, for the man in power, an exaggerated sense of his own worth (Bakunin 1980, 145).

The same point was made by Elisée Reclus. He wrote,

Anarchists contend that the state and all that it implies are not any kind of pure essence, much less a philosophical abstraction, but rather a collection of individuals placed in a specific milieu and subjected to its influence. Those individuals are raised up above their fellow citizens in dignity, power, and preferential treatment, and are consequently compelled to think themselves superior to the common people. Yet in reality the multitude of temptations besetting them almost inevitably leads them to fall below the general level (Reclus 2013, 122).

It is common for defenders of hierarchy to claim that capitalism and the state are necessary due to the negative characteristics of human nature. If workers are incapable of governing themselves then they must be led by enlightened CEOs. If people murder, steal and rape then society must be protected by the police, prisons and the law. Yet it is these hierarchical systems which bring out the worst in people and make the greatest atrocities possible. As Kropotkin wrote,

when we hear men saying that the Anarchists imagine men much better than they really are, we merely wonder how intelligent people can repeat that nonsense. . . We maintain that both rulers and ruled are spoiled by authority; both exploiters and exploited are spoiled by exploitation; while our opponents seem to admit that there is a kind of salt of the earth — the rulers, the employers, the leaders — who, happily enough, prevent those bad men — the ruled, the exploited, the led — from becoming still worse than they are. There is the difference, and a very important one. We admit the imperfections of human nature, but we make no exception for the rulers (Kropotkin 2014, 609).

Anarchists argued that if human beings are imperfect animals capable of committing the most appalling acts against one another, then this imperfection is the strongest reason for why no person should be raised up above the rest of society and granted the institutionalised power to command and impose their decisions on others through force or the threat of it (Malatesta 2015, 40). An individual serial killer can do a great deal of harm armed only with a knife. Their capacity for violence is, however, nothing compared to what rulers wielding the knife of state power are capable of. This can be seen in the fact that millions of people have been killed by states during the history of imperialism and colonialism. An individual thief may break into my home and steal my television but their theft is nothing compared to the vast plunder of resources, destruction of the natural environment and oppression of workers carried out by the corporations which manufactured my television and extracted the raw materials it is made out of. The greatest crimes are carried out not by isolated sadistic individuals but by vast social structures which enable a ruling minority to violently impose their will on the working classes.

As a result of this anarchists concluded that hierarchical and centralised institutions should be abolished in favour of horizontal free association between equals. Within an anarchist society people with the desire or predisposition to oppress and exploit other people would still exist. They would not, however, find themselves in a situation where there are positions of power they can take over and use to engage in oppression and exploitation on a large scale. In Bakunin’s words,

Do you want to prevent men from ever oppressing other men? Arrange matters such that they never have the opportunity. Do you want them to respect the liberty, rights and human character of their fellow men? Arrange matters such that they are compelled to respect them — compelled not by the will or oppression of other men, nor by the repression of the State and legislation, which are necessarily represented and implemented by men and would make them slaves in their turn, but by the actual organization of the social environment, so constituted that while leaving each man to enjoy the utmost possible liberty it gives no one the power to set himself above others or to dominate them. . . (Bakunin 1973, 152-3).

Given the above, anarchists would argue that it is not they who are naive about human nature but the defenders of hierarchy. Authoritarians imagine that emancipation can be achieved if good people with the correct ideas take control of the reigns of power. Anarchists realise that this has never happened and will never happen. Irrespective of people’s good intentions or the stories they tell themselves, they will be corrupted by their position at a top of a hierarchy and become primarily concerned with exercising and expanding their power over others in order to serve their own interests. If human beings are not inherently good, then no person is good enough to be a ruler

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Galleani, Luigi. 2012. The End of Anarchism? London: Elephant Editions.

Kropotkin, Peter. 1895. Proposed Communist Settlement: A New Colony for Tyneside or Wearside. The Newcastle Daily Chronicle. https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/petr-kropotkin-proposed-communist-settlement-a-new-colony-for-tyneside-or-wearside.

Kropotkin, Peter. 1924. Ethics: Origins and Development. London: George G. Harrap & Co.

Kropotkin, Peter. 2006. Mutual Aid: A Factor of Evolution. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications.

Kropotkin, Peter. 2014. Direct Struggle Against Capital: A Peter Kropotkin Anthology. Edited by Iain McKay. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2014. The Method of Freedom: An Errico Malatesta Reader. Edited by Davide Turcato. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2015. Life and Ideas: The Anarchist Writings of Errico Malatesta. Edited by Vernon Richards. Oakland, CA: PM Press.

Rocker, Rudolf. 1937. Nationalism and Culture. Los Angeles: Rocker Publications Committee.

Wilson, Charlotte. 2000. Anarchist Essays. Edited by Nicolas Walter. London: Freedom Press.

Anarchism as a Way of Life

In 1925 the Italian anarchist Errico Malatesta wrote that,

Anarchy is a form of living together in society; a society in which people live as brothers and sisters without being able to oppress or exploit others and in which everyone has at their disposal whatever means the civilisation of the time can supply in order for them to attain the greatest possible moral and material development. And Anarchism is the method of reaching anarchy, through freedom, without government – that is, without those authoritarian institutions that impose their will on others by force . . . (Malatesta 1995, 52).

In this passage Malatesta distinguishes between anarchy as a goal and anarchism as a method of achieving this goal. One of the interesting features of Malatesta’s theory is that he views anarchy itself as both a goal and an on-going process. He refers to anarchy as a “form of living together in society” which has to be continuously produced and reproduced over time, rather than a static unchanging utopia. This idea can be clearly seen in Malatesta’s earlier writings. In 1891 he wrote that,

By the free association of all, a social organisation would arise through the spontaneous grouping of men according to their needs and sympathies, from the low to the high, from the simple to the complex, starting from the more immediate to arrive at the more distant and general interests. This organisation would have for its aim the greatest good and fullest liberty to all; it would embrace all humanity in one common brotherhood, and would be modified and improved as circumstances were modified and changed, according to the teachings of experience. This society of free men, this society of friends would be Anarchy (Malatesta 2014, 128).

Since anarchy is a society which will be continuously modified and improved over time it follows that “Anarchy” is “above all, a method”. This method is, according to Malatesta, “the free initiative of all”, “free agreement” and “free association” (Malatesta 2014, 141, 142). These two claims come together in the view that,

Anarchy, in common with socialism, has as its basis, its point of departure, its essential environment, equality of conditions; its beacon is solidarity and freedom is its method. It is not perfection, it is not the absolute ideal which like the horizon recedes as fast as we approach it; but it is the way open to all progress and improvements for the benefit of everybody (Quoted in Turcato 2012, 56. For a different translation see Malatesta 2014, 143).

What Malatesta means by this is as follows. Anarchy’s point of departure is a stateless classless society in which the means of production are owned in common and no person has the institutionalised power to impose their will on others via force. This not only creates a situation in which people are no longer subject to domination and exploitation by the ruling classes. It, in addition to this, establishes the real possibility for all people to do and be a wide variety of different things since their ability to act is no longer limited by poverty, borders, government bureaucracy, having to work for a capitalist to survive etc. This equality of conditions is the social basis from which people can engage in an open-ended process of striving towards the goal of universal human co-operation at a societal level and the formation of bonds of mutual support and love at the level of our day to day lives with friends, family, partners and so on.

People living under anarchy will move towards the goal of solidarity through the method of forming voluntary horizontal associations. These voluntary horizontal associations will then enter into free agreements with one another and establish a decentralised network capable of co-ordinating action over a large scale. Although violence may sometimes be necessary to defend spaces of co-operation from external attack or to overthrow the ruling classes, force cannot be used to establish co-operation among equals. If one tries to impose decisions on others through force then the result will not be solidarity but conflict, strife and relations of command and obedience. The achievement of genuine solidarity requires that people come to agreements which best suit everyone involved and must therefore be established voluntarily.

This process of striving for solidarity through the method of freedom will result in a wide variety of experiments in different forms of life. Through a process of trial-and-error people will over time establish new social structures and relations which do a superior job of maximising the equality, solidarity and freedom of humanity. These new social structures and relations will, in turn, lay the foundations from which future improvements can occur and so on and on. As Malatesta wrote in 1899, “Anarchist ideals are . . . the experimental system brought from the field of research to that of social realisation” (Malatesta 2014, 302).

Malatesta does not think that the establishment of anarchy will occur automatically or that humans naturally create anarchy. Anarchy only exists if it is consciously produced and reproduced by human action. As he wrote in 1897,

The belief in some natural law, whereby harmony is automatically established between men without any need for them to take conscious, deliberate action, is hollow and utterly refuted by the facts.

Even if the State and private property were to be done away with, harmony does not come to pass automatically, as if Nature busies herself with men’s blessings and misfortunes, but rather requires that men themselves create it (Malatesta 2016, 81).

This exact point was repeated by Malatesta in 1925. He wrote, “Anarchy . . . is a human aspiration which is not founded on any true or supposed natural law, and which may or may not come about depending on human will” (Malatesta 1995, 46). If anarchy is a product of human will, then it follows that anarchy could be ended if humans choose to oppress others and establish relations of domination and subordination. This is a danger that Malatesta was aware of. He wrote in 1899 that, “if anyone in some future society sought to oppress someone else, the latter would have the right to resist them and to fight force with force”. Anarchy was therefore a society based on “freedom for all and in everything, with no limit other than the equal freedom of others: which does not mean . . . that we embrace and wish to respect the ‘freedom’ to exploit, oppress, command, which is oppression and not freedom” (Malatesta 2019, 148, 149).

A crucial aspect of reproducing anarchy as a social system is therefore ensuring that relations of domination and exploitation do not arise in the first place and that, if they do somehow arise, they are quickly defeated. Malatesta does not provide many details on how to do this because he thought this was a question which would be settled through large groups of people engaging in a process of experimentation with different forms of association. Modern anarchists can, however, look at anthropological evidence on how really existing stateless societies reproduce themselves. They do not provide exact blueprints which we can follow like an instruction manual for creating a free society, but they can be useful sources of inspiration. It should, in addition to this, be kept in mind that some stateless societies are hierarchical in other ways, such as men oppressing women or adults oppressing children.

There is a tendency for people raised in societies with states to assume that the true or correct end point of human cultural evolution is the creation of a society with a state. Those who live in stateless societies are therefore viewed as inferior people who have failed to realise the best way of organising society. In response to this way of thinking, the anthropologist Pierre Clastres has suggested that stateless societies should not be viewed as societies without a state, but instead as societies against the state. That is to say, people do not live in stateless societies by chance. They have instead developed political philosophies about the kind of society they want to live in and consciously created social structures to ensure that a society without rulers is reproduced. Members of stateless societies have not failed to realise the possibility of a society in which a ruling minority imposes their will on everyone else through violence. They have instead deliberately chosen to create a different kind of society (Clastres 1989, 189-218). Clastres writes, in what I consider to be outdated and problematic language, that,

primitive societies do not have a State because they refuse it, because they refuse the division of the social body into the dominating and the dominated. The politics of the Savages is, in fact, to constantly hinder the appearance of a separate organ of power, to prevent the fatal meeting between the institution of chieftainship and the exercise of power. In primitive society, there is no separate organ of power, because power is not separated from society: society, as a single totality, holds power in order to maintain its undivided being, to ward off the appearance in its breast of the inequality between masters and subjects, between chief and tribe. . . The refusal of inequality and the refusal of separate power are the same, constant concern of primitive societies (Clastres 1994, 91).

This point has recently been made in much greater depth by the anthropologist Christopher Boehm. He argues that egalitarian stateless societies are “the product of human intentionality” and that “the immediate cause of egalitarianism is conscious, and that deliberate social control is directed at preventing the expression of hierarchical tendencies” (Boehm 2001, 12, 60). One of the main ways egalitarian stateless societies achieve this is through the use of horizontal decision-making processes in which the group make collective decisions through consensus between all involved (Boehm 2001, 31, 113). Any leaders which do exist lack the power to impose decisions on others through coercion and must instead persuade others to act in a certain way through oratory skill alone. This usually goes alongside a variety of behavioural expectations which the leader has to conform to in order to remain in their position, such as the leader being modest, in control of their emotions, good at resolving disputes and generous. The emphasis on generosity can be so strong that leaders are expected to share large amounts of their possessions with others, especially those in need. This often results in leaders possessing the smallest number of things in the entire group due to them having to give so many items away (Boehm 2001, 69-72).

Egalitarian stateless societies have, in addition to this, developed various mechanisms to respond to what Boehm labels ‘upstartism’. Upstartism includes any behaviour which threatens the autonomy and equality of the group, such as bullying, being selfishly greedy, issuing orders, taking on airs of superiority, engaging in acts of physical violence and so on. In order to implement the ethical values of the community, members of egalitarian stateless societies will respond to upstartism with a wide range of different social sanctions. This includes, but is not limited to, criticism, gossiping, public ridicule, ignoring what they say, ostracism, expulsion from the group and even, in some extreme cases, execution. Social sanctions are applied to all members of the group but leaders in particular. This is due to the fact that leaders are subject to a greater deal of public scrutiny and viewed as one of the main places where relations of domination and subordination could emerge. This, in turn, creates a situation where leaders will, in order to maintain their position and avoid being subject to sanctions, engage in the socially prescribed behaviour that is expected from them, such as sharing huge amounts of their belongings even if they would rather not do so. The system of sanctions therefore not only effectively counters acts of domination but also reproduces the horizontal structure of the group itself (Boehm 2001, 3, 9-12, 43, 72-84).

The manner in which members of egalitarian stateless societies respond to upstartism can be subtle. Boehm gives the example of the !Kung, who have developed various ways of dealing with the problem of successful male hunters coming to think of themselves as superior to everyone else and, as a result, becoming more likely to engage in domination, especially murder. Firstly, large-game meat is shared equally among the group by the person who is credited with killing the animal. The credit for the kill does not go to the person who loosed the actual killing arrow, but instead to the owner of the first arrow to hit the animal. This will often not even be someone who went on the hunt due to the male hunters regularly trading arrows with one another. This social system ensures that credit for the hunt is randomized, unskilled or unlucky hunters are less likely to be envious of other hunters, every member of the group has access to protein, and the most skilled or lucky hunters are not able to easily use this fact to develop power and influence over others (Boehm 2001, 46).

Secondly, the !Kung actively use humour and social etiquette to ensure that successful hunters do not put themselves on a pedestal. An unnamed member of the !Kung explains this as follows,

Say that a man has been hunting. He must not come home and announce like a braggart, ‘I have killed a big one in the bush!’ He must first sit down in silence until I or someone else comes up to his fire and asks, ‘What did you see today?’ He replies quietly, ‘Ah, I’m no good for hunting. I saw nothing at all . . . maybe just a tiny one.’ Then I smile to myself because I now know he has killed something big.

Even after the hunter has deliberately acted as if they haven’t been very successful, other members of the group will make jokes about them and express their disappointment. The unnamed member of the !Kung claims that when people go to collect the dead animal they will say things like,

You mean to say you have dragged us all the way out here to make us cart home your pile of bones? Oh, if I had known it was this thin I wouldn’t have come. People, to think I gave up a nice day in the shade for this. At home we may be hungry but at least we have nice cool water to drink.

The conscious motivation behind this behaviour is explained by a healer as follows,

When a young man kills much meat, he comes to think of himself as a chief or a big man, and he thinks of the rest of us as his servants or inferiors. We can’t accept this. We refuse one who boasts, for someday his pride will make him kill somebody. So we always speak of his meat as worthless. In this way we cool his heart and make him gentle (Quoted in Boehm 2001, 45).

The !Kung have, in other words, intentionally developed a complex social system based on their political philosophy which ensures the reproduction of an egalitarian stateless society and actively prevents the rise of domination within their midst.1

Although people living in industrial societies do not have to develop social norms around successful hunters, we do have our equivalents. For example, successful influencers sometimes let the fame get to their head, come to think of themselves as superior to other people, and then treat others as inferior to them and engage in acts of domination. Think Jake Paul. It is of course the case that those of us currently living under the domination of capitalism, the state, patriarchy, racism, queerphobia, ableism etc are most likely a long way away from achieving anarchy at a societal level. We are not confronted with the problem of reproducing anarchy as a stateless classless society. We instead face the challenge of living under oppressive systems, whilst attempting to implement the methods of anarchism within both our intimate relationships with friends, family, partners etc and social movements aimed at the abolition of all systems of domination and exploitation.

In order to do so we must establish horizontal social relations which are, as far as is possible, the same as those that would constitute anarchy. In so doing we can simultaneously (a) construct the world as we wish it was during our struggle against the world as it is and (b) develop through a process of experimentation in the present the real methods of organisation, decision-making and association that people in the future could use to achieve the states of affairs that characterise anarchy. If, as Malatesta argued, “tomorrow can only grow out of today” (Malatesta 2014, 163). then we must build organisations based “upon the will and in the interest of all their members” not only “tomorrow in order to meet all of the needs of social life” but also “today for the purposes of propaganda and struggle”. (Malatesta 2019, 63) We must, in other words, engage in prefigurative politics or, to use historical anarchist language, build “the embryo of the human society of the future” (Graham 2005, 98. For more on prefigurative politics see Raekstad and Gradin 2020).

The pockets of freedom we manage to create within class society are of course not anarchy. Anarchy is a social system in which all forms of class rule have been abolished and socialism has been achieved. Anarchy cannot therefore be said to exist just because a horizontal association has been built within the cage of capitalism and the state (Malatesta 2016, 358-60). Although horizontal associations within class society are not anarchy, they are the means through which anarchy can be achieved. That is to say, horizontal associations should be organs of class struggle which unite workers together in order to both win immediate improvements, such as higher wages or stopping the fossil fuel industry, and ultimately overthrow the ruling classes. Horizontal associations should, at the same time, be social structures which are constituted by forms of activity that develop their participants into the kinds of people who are both capable of, and driven to, establish and reproduce anarchy. For example, a group of workers form a tenant union, use direct action to prevent their landlord from evicting them, and at the same time learn how to make decisions within a general assembly. In changing the world, workers at the same time change themselves.

Given the insights of both historical anarchist theory and modern anthropology, a crucial aspect of laying the foundations from which anarchy could emerge in the future is establishing effective methods for maintaining the horizontality of a group. This includes at least,

(a) Deliberately structuring organisations so as to ensure that they are self-managed by their membership, such as making decisions through general assemblies in which everyone has a vote, co-ordinating action over a large scale via informal networks or formal federations, electing instantly recallable mandated delegates to perform specific tasks etc.

(b) Consciously developing a system of social sanctions which effectively and proportionally respond to situations where a member engages in what Boehm terms upstartism. This is especially necessary for when people attempt to establish themselves in positions of power at the top of an informal hierarchy or engage in an act of domination. One of the most important situations which a group must effectively respond to is when a member emotionally, physically or sexually abuses another person. It is, in addition to this, very important than any sanction system which is implemented is not itself a new form of domination disguised as mere opposition to the domination of others.

In summary, anarchy is a form of living together in society which must be consciously and intentionally produced and reproduced by human action. A crucial part of doing so is developing social structures and relations which maintain the horizontality of groups and prevent new forms of domination and exploitation from arising. Given modern anthropological evidence on how really existing stateless societies reproduce themselves, this will include developing social sanctions to respond to what Boehm terms upstartism. Although we do not currently live under anarchy, we must establish horizontal associations which engage in class struggle against the ruling classes and prefigure the methods of organisation, decision-making and association which would exist in a free society. This includes developing effective sanction systems which proportionally respond to behaviour that threatens the horizontality of the group. Doing so will, just like under anarchy, require a process of experimentation with different forms of life in order to figure out which solutions actually work and are compatible with anarchist goals and values.

In 1899 Malatesta wrote that “Anarchy cannot come but little by little – slowly, but surely, growing in intensity and extension. Therefore, the subject is not whether we accomplish Anarchy today, tomorrow or within ten centuries, but that we walk toward Anarchy today, tomorrow and always” (Malatesta 2014, 300). Through the process of walking towards anarchy we must learn how to live as equals within a free horizontal association and in so doing become fit to establish a society with neither masters nor subjects. I am sure that we will make mistakes along the way, but these mistakes must be treated as opportunities to learn and develop, rather than reasons to abandon the march towards anarchy. In the words of the Spanish anarchist Isaac Puente,

Living in libertarian communism will be like learning to live. Its weak points and its failings will be shown up when it is introduced. If we were politicians we would paint a paradise brimful of perfections. Being human and being aware what human nature can be like, we trust that people will learn to walk the only way it is possible for them to learn: by walking (Puente 1932).

Bibliography

Boehm, Christopher. 2001. Hierarchy in the Forest: The Evolution of Egalitarian Behaviour. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Clastres, Pierre. 1989. Society Against the State: Essays in Political Anthropology. New York: Zone Books.

Clastres, Pierre. 1994. Archeology of Violence. Semiotext(e).

Draper, Patricia. 1975. “!Kung Women: Contrasts in Sexual Egalitarianism in Foraging and Sedentary Contexts” in Toward an Anthropology of Women, ed. R. R. Reiter. New York: Monthly Review Press.

Graham, Robert. 2005. Anarchism: A Documentary History of Libertarian Ideas, Volume One: From Anarchy to Anarchism (300CE to 1939. Montréal: Black Rose Books.

Malatesta, Errico. 1995. The Anarchist Revolution: Polemical Articles 1924-1931. Edited by Vernon Richards. London: Freedom Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2014. The Method of Freedom: An Errico Malatesta Reader. Edited by Davide Turcato. Oakland, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2016. A Long and Patient Work: The Anarchist Socialism of L’Agitazione 1897-1898. Edited by Davide Turcato. Chico, CA: AK Press.

Malatesta, Errico. 2019. Towards Anarchy: Malatesta in America 1899-1900. Edited by Davide Turcato. Chico, CA: AK Press.

Puente, Isaac. 1932. Libertarian Communism.

Turcato, Davide. 2012. Making Sense of Anarchism: Errico Malatesta’s Experiments With Revolution, 1889-1900. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Raekstad, Paul, and Gradin, Sofa Saio. 2020. Prefigurative Politics: Building Tomorrow Today. Cambridge: Polity Press.

  1. It is important to note that Boehm’s account of the !Kung draws upon research conducted in the 1960s and early 1970s. Their society has significantly changed since then. In 1975 the anthropologist Patricia Draper claimed that, “the great majority of !Kung-speaking people have abandoned their traditional hunting and gathering way of life and are now living in sedentary and semi-squatter status in or near the villages of Bantu pastoralists and European ranchers. A minority of !Kung, amounting to a few thousand, are still living by traditional hunting and gathering technique” (Draper 1975, 79). ↩︎