Prioritising anti-US imperialism, Maduro’s Venezuela and the complexities of critical solidarity: An interview with Steve Ellner

Steve Ellner is an Associate Managing Editor of Latin American Perspectives and a retired professor of the Universidad de Oriente in Venezuela. He has recently written a series of articles in Monthly Review, Science and Society and Latin American Perspectives arguing in favour of the left prioritising the struggle against US imperialism. In this broad-ranging interview with Federico Fuentes for LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal, Ellner lays out his views on anti-US imperialism, how this should factor into the left’s appraisal of China and Latin America’s Pink Tide governments, and what this means for international solidarity activists.

In recent articles, you say the left needs to prioritise the struggle against US imperialism. Why is this the case?

The basic contradiction of capitalism is at the point of production, the contradiction between the interests of the working class and those of capitalists. That is fundamental to Marxism. But any analysis at the world level of the relations between nations has to place US imperialism (including NATO) at the centre. In my articles, I question the thesis on the left that there is a convergence of China and the US as imperialist powers.

The debate regarding China often centres on how one defines imperialism. How do you define imperialism? Is US imperialism the only imperialism that exists?

John Bellamy Foster points out that [Vladimir] Lenin explained imperialism as “ multifaceted”. I would add that it has two basic heads: the political-military element and the economic one. On that basis, Foster questions the validity of two opposite interpretations of imperialism.

One tendency is to equate imperialism with the political domination of the US empire, backed of course by military power, which was the view put forward by Leo Panitch and Sam Gindin. They overestimated Washington’s political ability to preserve order and stability in accordance with US economic interests. Of course, what they wrote over a decade ago appeared to be more accurate at the time than today, given declining US prestige and global economic instability.

At the other extreme are those left theorists who focus on the dominance of global capital and minimise the importance of the nation-state. They view progressive governments in Latin America as incapable of defying global capital, and Washington as the custodians of transnational capital, rather than as a defender of a range of interests, including US geopolitical and economic interests. The prime example of US economic interests is defence of the hegemony of the dollar. Paradoxically, a prime example of the geopolitical factor is weaponising the dollar in the form of sanctions, which induces nations to create mechanisms to sidestep the dollar for international transactions. The end result is the weakening of the dollar as an international currency, which is exactly what is happening.

I argue that this position, which mainly focuses on transnational capital, is somewhat misleading. In my exchange with William Robinson in Latin American Perspectives, I noted the importance of his work on transnational capital and globalisation, which I have long admired, and its political implications today. Robinson takes issue with my reference to territorial-based imperialism, saying Lenin’s theory of imperialism is “class-based”. But it is both. I am not saying that Lenin’s concept of imperialism is applicable today in all its aspects, but I disagree with Robinson’s denial of the territorial aspect of imperialism, both in Lenin’s writings and today, for various reasons.

First, in Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism, Lenin attributes World War I to the clash between European superpowers in dividing up territories now known as the Global South. What could be more territorially based than that? Second, there is a whole body of Marxist literature — [Antonio] Gramsci, [Louis] Althusser and [Nico] Poulantzas being the most important theoreticians — that questions the simplistic notion that the state consists of the dominant class, namely the capitalist class or dominant fraction of it, dominating and determining everything else. The interests of transnational capital do not trump everything else because the state is not the exclusive instrument of any one class fraction. In addition, the cause-and-effect relationship of structure and superstructure is complex, a la Althusser. That is to say, the economic interests of the transnational class do not override political, geopolitical and military considerations, which sometimes collide in the short run with economic interests.

In the long run, of course, economics and geopolitics are intricately linked, if not inseparable. Robinson and others address geopolitics, but they do not assign it the weight it deserves. In effect, transnational capital subsumes other key factors, such as their discussion of BRICS [Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa]. If geopolitics is not relegated to a superficial superstructure but considered a basic element of imperialism, then China cannot be thrown in the same category as US imperialism. How can you place the US, with its 750 overseas military bases, in the same general category as China, which has one? Washington’s military deployment throughout the world, its use of sanctions and its justification for interventionism on the basis of R2P [right to protect] or “humanitarian interventionism” have no equivalent in Beijing’s relations with the rest of the world and the South in particular.

How do you reconcile your position on the need to prioritise US imperialism with the US’ declining global influence and China’s concurrent rise?

Marxists agree that everything is in flux, and that is the case with US world hegemony. But [Karl] Marx and [Friedrich] Engels also polemicised against the utopian socialists of their day, whose futuristic visions blinded them to the reality of the present. In essence, Marx and Engels said you cannot impose the future on the present. Thus from a Marxist perspective there are two components: the dialectics which analyses the transformations embodied in the present that cast light on the future; and the importance of timing, which means there is a right time and place for everything.

With regard to US influence, sure it is in decline. But the US is hardly a paper tiger. The Gaza conflict symbolises this reality. The US and its proxy, Israel, have not achieved a military victory in Gaza in spite of the billions of dollars invested in the conflict. You might draw the conclusion that Gaza is more evidence of US decline, just like Vietnam and Afghanistan. But look at all the destruction in human lives, personal traumas and property. There is no need to go into detail about how US power in its military expression, as well as its regime change capacity and use of economic blackmail, have such a potent and destructive impact. There is no qualitative comparison with other superpowers, the Ukrainian conflict notwithstanding. And it is misleading to say “the Chinese are almost there” and will soon be just as imperialist as the US. This may eventually happen, but it is not a foregone conclusion.

I believe you raised this issue of not mixing the future and the present in your recent articles…

Yes, I did, and in different contexts. First, with regard to writers who are jumping the gun by overstating the importance of the transnational state. The transnational state is not displacing the nation-state, even while the nation-state has lost much of the fiscal leverage it had during the years in which Keynesian economics was in vogue. It has not lost its military capacity, which the transnational state nearly completely lacks. Extrapolation into the distant future is no substitute for analysis of the here and now.

An example of the global focus which plays down the nation-state is Immanuel Wallerstein’s theory that the 1968 counter-hegemonic movements from Columbia University to Mexico City and Czechoslovakia were what he called a “ single revolution”, in which local conditions were not fundamental explanatory factors. In reality, 1968 was hardly a world revolution, and in all three cases local conditions were the main drivers. One thing is the “demonstration effect”, whereby revolutionary events in one country influence politics in another country. But this is quite different from a simultaneous world revolution. Here, Wallerstein was “jumping the gun”, in that a futuristic vision of world revolution was imposed on the present.

Second, the same tendency of imposing the future on the present can be seen with those who view Pink Tide governments through the lenses of Gramsci’s theory of passive revolution and conclude that they have betrayed their movements’ original goals. These writers claim that what they call the Pink Tide’s “project” condemns those nations to a return to the oppressive social relations of the past. It may well be that Pink Tide alliances with certain business sectors that opposed regime change attempts supported by other business sectors may end up allowing a fifth column to penetrate and take complete control of those governments. But, as I argue in my Monthly Review article, what is going on in these countries is highly dynamic, making the future of Pink Tide governments hard to predict. For instance, the degree to which US imperialism suffers major blows will leave Pink Tide governments in a better position to move in the opposite direction, the direction of socialism.

In this sense, the state in Pink Tide countries is more like a battleground, as Poulantzas described, than a dual state process in which the new state displaces the old state or the old state eradicates the fledgling new state. For Marta Harnecker, both processes — the battleground of the old state and the dual state phenomenon — took place simultaneously under Chávez. In any case, this complexity is misrepresented by the determinism displayed by passive revolution writers, who argue that with governments coopting social movement leaders and granting concessions to business interests, the bleak future of the Pink Tide is inescapable.

Finally, the debate over the multipolar world slogan also involves the issue of the present and the future. Those on the left who question the progressive content of the slogan tend to conflate the two. In the future, a multipolar world may well lead to the kind of inter-imperialist rivalry that led the way to World War I. But we are in the present, not the future. In the present, the multipolar world is designed to counter US hegemony and US imperialism, which is without equal anywhere in the world.

Given all this, what are the ramifications for the US left of prioritising the struggle against US imperialism? Why should the left focus on foreign policy issues, as you argue, when workers are often more concerned with domestic politics?

Even in the sphere of US domestic politics, there are pragmatic reasons why the left needs to place greater emphasis on imperialism. The distinguishing features that separate “liberals” or centre-leftists from the left are issues related to foreign policy.

Take Bernie Sanders, for example, who I would label a liberal or centre-leftist. Following Israel’s invasion of Gaza, Sanders at first refused to call for a ceasefire, then only called for a “pause” in the fighting. As a result, he came under heavy attack from progressives and the Arab-American community. When Sanders entered the 2016 presidential race (if not earlier), he made a conscious decision to downplay foreign policy and instead stress domestic issues. He also chose to be very circumspect about what he said about US adversaries such as [the late Venezuelan president] Hugo Chávez and Cuba. This was not because he was less interested in foreign policy or has limited knowledge about those issues. Rather, as a veteran politician, he knew where the ruling class draws the line on what can be tolerated. The fact a politician such as Sanders, who calls himself a socialist and advocates fairly important pro-working-class reforms but is not anti-imperialist, was not ostracised or demonised is telling. It shows the ruling class prioritises imperialism over strictly economic demands; that it is more inclined to declare war on anti-imperialists than those who call themselves socialists.

Anti-imperialism is one effective way to drive a wedge between the Democratic Party machine and large sectors of the party who are progressive but vote for Democratic candidates as a lesser of two evils. This tendency is a major obstacle for the US left in its efforts to build an independent progressive movement. Many people reason: “I can’t vote for a third-party candidate because the danger that the right — and now with [Donald] Trump the far-right — will control the White House is too daunting.” They are right to an extent. The Democratic Party is better than the Republican Party on domestic issues, though some on the left deny this. Trump lowered corporate taxes from 35% to 21% and he screams “drill, baby drill” as a panacea to the energy crisis. The Republicans are vehemently anti-union, favour capital punishment and want to criminalise abortion. That is why it is so hard to convince voters to support third-party candidates who address their real needs.

But foreign policy is a different story. There may be differences between the two major parties at a given moment (Trump is slightly better on Ukraine than [Kamala] Harris, at least rhetorically), but as a whole both parties are equally bad. That is exactly why the Democratic Party, and liberals in general including the liberal media, shy away from foreign policy issues. If you listened to the Democratic Party convention in August, at best 2% of the speeches by speakers referred to foreign policy. And that 2% focused on the bogus issue of the need to defend US national security. The two decent things that President [Barack] Obama did — the thaw in relations with Cuba and the Iran nuclear deal — were dropped by [Joe] Biden, with no references to them at the convention. The discourse at the convention may have had an element of rationality with regard to values, and some issues of substance such as ethnic diversity, reproductive rights, etc, certainly in contrast to the Republicans, but when it comes to foreign policy it is completely irrational. The cornerstone of its narrative on the need to intervene abroad is national security. Yet there is no country in the world that threatens the US, militarily or otherwise.

The left’s message has to stress that you cannot have both guns and butter, and that the Pentagon is the number one polluter on the planet. We have to devise slogans that demand politicians (including liberal ones) and the corporate media address these issues.

Another reason why anti-imperialism needs to be emphasised is that it provides progressive governments in the Global South with breathing space. This allows them the chance to move forward with their progressive agenda in a democratic setting, and to deepen their nation’s democracy. In the case of Venezuela, such breathing space may have changed the course of events at a time when US aggression had a devastating effect and limited the government’s options. From Cuba and Venezuela to the Soviet Union, the Pentagon’s strategy has always been to force adversary governments to allocate immense resources to their armed forces in order to undermine their consumer economy, knowing full well that no country can match the US on the military front.

Does prioritising anti-US imperialism mean the left should turn a blind eye to the shortcomings of governments under attack from US imperialism?

No, they should not. Some on the left say otherwise. They say the left in the Global North should not criticise progressive Global South governments and that its sole duty or role is to oppose imperialist intervention. But criticism of errors is essential and nobody can, or should, question the right of anybody to formulate criticisms. However, those who are critical need to seriously consider the knotty issue of how and when to criticise anti-imperialist governments or other governments under attack from US imperialism.

Take, for instance, Hamas’ actions on October 7 and Israel’s subsequent invasion of Gaza. The pro-Palestinian solidarity movement is divided between activists who disagree with Hamas’ incursion and others who defend it on grounds of the right to resist. Those in the first category face a dilemma. They have a legitimate position, which those in the second category should respect in the name of unity. But it would be damaging to the cause, for example, to criticise October 7 at a rally protesting Israel’s genocide in Gaza. Referencing October 7, albeit passingly, would dampen the enthusiasm of protesters. There are other reasons why the solidarity movement may want to avoid any passing reference to October 7. Doing so may run the risk of playing into Israel’s hands by implying that both sides are equally responsible for a conflict that has brought such immense suffering to the Palestinian people. Another reason is that passing references can simplify and decontextualise Hamas’ decision and the strategy behind it.

One way to look at it is to consider that freedom of speech is not an absolute principle — it depends on the circumstances. In certain situations, such as wartime, there are limitations. The same can be applied to strategic decisions by solidarity activists regarding criticisms of the governments they are defending.

What about a country such as Venezuela, which is not engaged in a military war with US imperialism and where there are clearly different approaches towards its government on the left?

Venezuela has been in a war-type situation for many years. Prior to Chávez, no Venezuelan economist would have imagined that if the country could not export oil the government would survive for more than a week. That is exactly what the sanctions are all about. On top of that you have had assassination attempts against the president, months of violent regime-change disturbances, an invasion by mercenaries from Colombia, an attempted coup, and abundant evidence of sabotage, including through cybernetics — the latest documented in Anya Parampil’s book Corporate Coup. These were all engineered or actively supported by the US. The coup attempt in April 2019, for instance, went hand in hand with the Trump administration’s explicit call on the Venezuelan military to overthrow Maduro.

Some left analysts fault Maduro for taking off the gloves and not abiding by the norms of liberal democracy. In some cases, the criticisms are valid but they have to be contextualised. Furthermore, how liberal is US democracy? And the US is hardly being threatened by a foreign power, the ludicrous Russiagate scandal notwithstanding.

The issue is that often criticisms are seen as “aiding” US imperialism’s campaign against Venezuela. Are there no limits when it comes to muting criticisms?

You have to draw a line in the sand. Electoral fraud, for instance, is unacceptable. Furthermore, no criticism should be vetoed, it is just a question of context; that is, under what circumstances do you formulate the criticism. In addition, we have to recognise that certain situations constitute grey areas in which left analysts cannot be certain of all the facts. In those cases we can only make educated guesses and need to recognise there are important gaps in what we know that cannot be easily filled. The left has to make an effort to define these grey areas to distinguish what we know for certain.

For instance, after the first sanctions were imposed on Venezuela with the Obama executive order in early 2015, and then scaled up by the Trump administration which called for a military coup, one grey area was the Venezuelan military. There was no way for an analyst who lacked inside information to really know what options Maduro had. The calls for a military coup by the world’s foremost military power undoubtedly strengthened the hands of Diosdado Cabello, the number two man who has close ties with the military and does not have Maduro’s leftist background. It is easy to say Maduro should have responded to the threats by radicalising the process, which is what several Venezuelan Trotskyist parties advocated. Maduro went in the opposite direction by making concessions to the private sector. As a result, he lost the backing of the Communist Party of Venezuela.

There were some on the Venezuelan left who told me at the time that the Chavistas should have given up power so as not to be identified with the terrible economic conditions resulting from US sanctions. That position underestimates the importance of state power. Lenin recognised this. What would history have been like had Lenin relinquished power in response to the extreme hardships caused during the period of War Communism?

But what if, in the name of holding onto state power, electoral fraud is committed? How should the left deal with this?

As I said above, electoral fraud needs to be ruled out, and for various reasons not just ethical ones. But in the case of Venezuela there are complex issues. Those who claim that fraud was committed on July 28 need to factor them into their analysis.

For example, a victory for the opposition would most likely have resulted in a bloodbath against the Chavistas and others as well. The candidacy of Edmundo González was deceptive because he was a mere puppet; the real candidate was María Corina Machado. Some analysts pointed to González’s conciliatory tone, but he was not and is not calling the shots — everybody knows that. If you look at Machado’s statements over the years, you will see her plan was to “neutralise” Chavismo, a euphemism for Pinochet-style repression that goes beyond the organised left.

Recognising how formidable the challenges facing the Chavista leadership are can help break down the divide between those on the left who claim fraud was committed and those who do not. One key question is the following: is there a significant area of convergence — or unity — taking in those who validate the official results of July 28 and those who question them. I believe that, as tenuous as that coexistence may be, there is a potential that needs to be encouraged.

Several factors would bolster such a relationship. First, recognising that the violence and destabilisation following the July 28 elections was in large part undertaken or promoted by organised domestic and external political actors, as the Maduro government has documented in some detail. Second, questioning the official results should not imply accepting the results announced by Machado-González. Discrepancies in their statements regarding the number of voter tally sheets in their possession and the total lack of transparency in the opposition’s presidential primaries last October are just two of many reasons why their pronouncements should not be taken at face value. And third, a convergence of Maduro supporters and left critics should be based on recognising certain positive features of his government. His foreign policy tops the list, but there is more. As harsh as the criticisms of his domestic policies may be, the claim that Maduro is a bona fide neoliberal is untenable. Left critics point to the government’s failure to fulfil Chávez’s plea of “ Commune or nothing.” Nevertheless, the government has provided the communes with a degree of support, in the context of a rank-and-file impetus. Its record on this front is mixed, but it has positive aspects, as Chris Gilbert points out in his recent book on the subject.

I am not saying the issue of the July 28 elections should be swept under the rug or placed on the back burner. But the discussion should not get in the way of the larger issue, which is US imperialism and recognising that the Maduro government’s errors have to be contextualised. Its errors, to a large degree, are erroneous reactions to US imperialism. That, however, is not to minimise the gravity of the errors or to absolve leaders of responsibility for committing them.

Where does this leave us more generally? There will always be certain issues that we cannot be too sure of. Does this mean we can throw certain issues into the too-hard basket?

I am certainly not proposing a post-modernist philosophy, or that there are many truths. No, there is only one truth and we should strive to know what it is. But at the same time, we should attempt to determine grey areas, where we recognise we cannot come up with definitive conclusions because not all the facts are clear. In situations like this, we should be especially tolerant of opposing views on the left. This is what Mao called “the correct handling of contradictions among the people.”

I am also not saying that July 28 is one of those “grey areas”. But I am saying that much of what led up to July 28 consists of grey areas. One example that I gave was the situation within the Venezuelan armed forces, which may have limited Maduro’s options. For this reason, I am in favour of greater tolerance between pro-Maduro Chavistas and many of their left critics — as difficult as that may be.

Does prioritising US imperialism mean we cannot extend solidarity to, for example, workers striking against Brazilian and Chinese capitalists, to pick two examples of governments in conflict with US imperialism?

Certainly not. The left needs to support workers’ struggles against companies owned by Brazilian and Chinese capitalists, or those of anywhere else for that matter. That is a dimension no one on the left can downplay.

But its importance should not eclipse the geopolitical dimension. The importance of geopolitics is underrated by those who accuse solidarity activists of being “ campist” or belonging to the “ Manichean left,” an unfortunate term used by Robinson in a recent article, and which I take up in the Science and Society symposium. Robinson invokes the term to refer to honest revolutionaries, such as Vijay Prashad, simply because they praise the Chinese leadership. In doing so, Robinson fails to underscore basic distinctions between the Chinese state, state capital and political leaders, on the one hand, and Chinese private capital on the other. In the same breath, he slams solidarity activists such as CODEPINK, even though that organisation is rather neutral on the internal politics of other countries. Leftists, and solidarity activists in particular, have the right to prioritise anti-US imperialism without being accused of Manichaeism. The use of the term should be left to the McCarthyites on the right.

Similarly, the term “campist” is applied to leftists who supposedly reduce all conflicts to the clash between US imperialism and its adversaries, specifically Russia and China, and prioritise the struggle against US imperialism. It is assumed that they are blind to exploitation by capitalists who are outside of the US camp and that they blindly support all US adversaries.

Take the case of the Ukrainian conflict. Few leftists defend Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, but most leftists do not align themselves with Ukraine’s side in the conflict. One exception is Howie Hawkins, the Green Party’s presidential candidate in 2020, who used the term “campist” to criticise a recent statement arguing that NATO provoked Russia into invading Ukraine. Hawkins makes the accusation without indicating whether or not the authors of the statement defend [Vladimir] Putin’s decision to invade. A big chunk of the anti-war movement does not approve of Russia’s invasion, and even suggests territorial ambitions are at play, but believes NATO deserves the greater part of the blame. That position may be open to debate, but it is a far cry from being “campist” or located in the pro-Russian camp.

Hawkins takes issue with “partisans of states” that challenge Western dominance and support multipolarity, claiming they see China as leading the way. The pro-China “campist” category assumes that Cold War II is a rerun of Cold War I, when Communist parties were aligned with, and loyal to, the Soviet Union. But Chinese Communist leaders, unlike those of the old Soviet Union, are not for the most part exporting any model. And not many on the left defend the Chinese model per se. Those who praise China are mainly praising its foreign policy, which is based on the principle of defence of national sovereignty. Talk of “campism” is a throwback to the Cold War when leftists were told they had to balance criticism of US policy with criticism of the Soviet Union. The price you paid for refusing was getting called a “fellow traveller,” at best.

That said, there are people and groups on the left who align with China, not only because of Beijing’s foreign policy, but because they are attracted to the Chinese model. We have to take off the blinders to objectively analyse the Chinese case. I am not an expert on the subject, but I know enough to say that what is happening in China is as important for the left to analyse as it is complex. Attacking China supporters through the use of shibboleths reminiscent of the old Cold War gets in the way of much-needed, open and honest debate.

There can be a problem though when prioritising US imperialism leads to a kind of “lesser evil” politics in which genuine democratic and worker struggles are not just underrated, but directly opposed on the basis that they weaken the struggle against US imperialism. Is there ever a case when geopolitics should trump solidarity and the rights of others in struggle?

No. One does not negate the other. But the issue you raise can be viewed from a broader perspective. The organised left in the Global North is divided in three categories. Some leftist activists form part of the anti-imperialist movement; others, who identify as orthodox Marxists, prioritise the working class; and others are social movement activists involved in struggles around racism, immigration, reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ issues, etc. The banners of all three reinforce one another, as intersectionality brings together different oppressed groups.

At the same time, there are discrepancies and tensions between these activists. This is natural and inevitable. If the post-Marxists and post-modernists are correct about one thing, it is that social and political movements for change in contemporary society are more complex, at least on the surface, than was the case 100 years ago. That said, there is much room for debate to determine priorities and strategies. For example, a number of articles in Jacobin criticise the identity politics of some social movements for viewing class as just one more identity. Another example is the works of the Italian Communist Domenico Losurdo, who viewed anti-imperialism as the main driver of leftist advances beginning in 1917.

In my recent articles, I take issue with anti-Pink Tide writers who see worker and social movement mobilisations as practically the only driver of progressive change, while leaving anti-imperialist governments largely out of the picture. But my articles also call into question the validity of an exclusively geopolitical focus. We are not quite in a situation like World War II, when Communists promoted a no-strike policy for the labour movement. The exclusively geopolitical focus falls short in many situations. For instance, it may justify Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, without considering political options available to Russia as a response to NATO expansion and threats. Also, the logic behind the exclusively geopolitical focus is to place [former Iraqi leader] Saddam Hussein in the same anti-imperialist category as Chávez, since both were subject to Washington's regime-change schemes, without considering domestic factors that clearly differentiated the two.

My main point is on the need to be realistic. Much open discussion is needed and should be welcomed. But we are not going to arrive at a blueprint or even a synthesis because societal contradictions are just too profound. We can, however, aim for common denominators based on common assumptions.

One of those assumptions is that anti-US imperialism has to be prioritised, though of course not as the only priority. Take the debate around BRICS and the banner of a multipolar world. Some leftists recognise the importance of BRICS in undermining Washington’s weaponisation of the dollar in the form of sanctions against Cuba, Venezuela, etc, while questioning the goal of multipolarity as a long-term strategy. Maduro and many of his staunch defenders see it as a fundamental tool in advancing toward socialism. Those are differences that we can live with. But I do not see any easy reconciliation with those who completely deny the importance of the multipolar world slogan and who lash out at the Maduro government for being a pro-neoliberal sellout. These writers tend to argue that US imperialism is not the only bully on the block. This may be the case, but it is certainly by far the most dangerous one.

This discussion has been quite clarifying. Is there anything else you would like to add?

Sure. Certain policies and actions by anti-imperialist governments and movements in the Global South are unprincipled or blatantly incorrect and need to be criticised in no uncertain terms. Others are less black and white and involve complex issues. With regard to the second category, the left should not overemphasise criticisms; it needs to contextualise them and should be careful as to when and how such criticisms are formulated. Distinguishing between the two categories requires serious consideration. The use of simplistic terms such as “Manichean left” and “campist” impedes much-needed objective analysis and belies the complexity of what probably will be a relatively long path of socialist transition.

Steve would like to thank Andrew Smolski for his useful insights regarding the issues raised in this interview.