Thursday, December 04, 2025

On Betraying Your Friends

---

Forster, Betrayal, and the Biology of Loyalty

In 1938 E. M. Forster published his short essay What I Believe. It contained the line which caused outrage at the time:

If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.” 

England was still a patriotic, hierarchical society. The prospect of war against Hitler made such an inversion of national loyalty appear close to treason. Forster was staking a claim: private fidelity outweighs abstract allegiance.

Biologists later gave this dilemma a technical frame. W. D. Hamilton showed that cooperation is favoured when the cost of helping (C) is outweighed by the benefit (B) to genetic relatives (r): r × B > C.

Robert Trivers extended this logic to non-kin, modelling reciprocal altruism between partners and friends who can recognise and remember each other. 

Kinship and friendship thus become the natural anchors of loyalty. Abstract entities like “nation” or “cause” are secondary. They can command devotion only when group enforcement, ideology, or reputational payoffs outweigh the immediate pull of blood and reciprocity. Symbols cement an imaginary community.

No one faced with Forster’s choice runs Hamilton's equations. Evolution equipped us with emotions to act as the compass.

  • Love and attachment make betrayal of family or friends feel like a physical wound
  • Fear of punishment by the wider group pulls in the opposite direction 
  • Shame and guilt mark disloyalty
  • pride and honour mark resistance 
  • Anger, defiance, empathy, anxiety - each has its part.

These conflicting signals are not noise; they are the very mechanism by which human beings weigh such choices. There is no algorithmic outcome: it always depends.

States have long understood this emotional architecture. Coercive interrogation makes use of it. The interrogator threatens family and friends to trigger attachment and fear. He offers narratives to ease the guilt of betrayal (“your comrades abandoned you”).

The prisoner sits inside Forster’s dilemma, subject to the deliberate manipulation of an emotional pot-pourri. The choice cannot be abstract; it is staged in flesh and blood.

There is no universal answer. Sometimes loyalty to comrades or cause is held to the death; sometimes the bonds of kinship or friendship break it. Evolution has not equipped us with a single moral compass here; instead a suite of clashing emotions, each a product of selective advantage from deep history.

Forster’s provocation endures because it exposes not treachery but the brutal evolutionary truth: loyalty can never be absolute, only contextual.

Wednesday, December 03, 2025

The Fourth International at Your Party


From the IMG to A*CR: Whatever Happened to the Fourth International?

At the recent Your Party inaugural conference in Liverpool, the usual assemblage of Trotskyist organisations was out in force – Socialist Workers Party, stray sects, vetero-Leninist grouplets doing that haunting-the-edges-of-history thing. Listening to the reports, I found myself wondering whether any former comrades from the Fourth International tradition – the old Ernest Mandel “United Secretariat” current – were actually present.

Is there still a British section of the FI in any meaningful sense, and if so, what on earth are they doing these days?

Back in 1972-76, when I was an IMG member, the politics were straightforward, whatever the internal (in retrospect) absurdities. We were Marxist, Leninist, Trotskyist: pitched at a genuinely high intellectual level. I possessed - and studied - Lenin's Selected Works in two thick volumes, Trotsky's classic works, and a smattering of modern texts on Marxist economics (Capital was too boring for me in those days).

You might have mocked our delusions of revolutionary imminence, but you couldn’t say we hadn’t done the reading. Fast forward fifty years and the contemporary FI seems unrecognisable: a loosely-connected ecosocialist talking shop, with a politics that looks like faddish environmentalism plus identity-adjacent moralism.

Not much attention to the conquest of power: the old, hard arts of street-fighting victory over the bourgeoisie. 

The IMG: a flawed but serious attempt at Leninism

The IMG of the early seventies was, for all its faults, a serious organisation.

Structurally, it was a party project, not a lifestyle collective. Branches, fractions, organised interventions in the labour movement and student unions. There was an assumption that we were training the future leadership for a British October which would, sometime soon, be pencilled into the calendar. Discipline and education were not optional extras - we were truly in the End Times.

Theoretically, we were orthodox in the Trotskyist sense: transitional method, workers’ government, permanent revolution, the united front, democratic centralism. People argued furiously all the time, but they were arguing inside a shared conceptual framework; Leninism was the grammar of the organisation. You could reasonably say, “These people are wrong about the nature of the Labour Party, or the dynamics of Portugal, or the women’s movement,” but we were at least trying to locate those things inside a theory of the state, class power, and revolutionary praxis.

The FI today: ecosocialist salon with Trotskyist wallpaper

By contrast, the contemporary British section of the FI - Anti*Capitalist Resistance (A*CR), plus its Scottish cousin - reads and behaves very differently. This may be their public face rather than the inner life of any given branch - but politics, like theology, exists in its outward forms.

The centre of gravity has visibly shifted:

– 'Climate catastrophe' is now the organising horizon. Capitalism is bad not because it immiserates the working class and blocks human potential, but because it incinerates the planet. The class problematic is presented, but often as a kind of grey backdrop to a green foreground. Naturally none of this is properly analysed.

– The daily diet is social-movement work around race, gender, sexuality, refugees, and so on, refracted through current academic fashions. They tend to appear as self-contained spheres rather than mediated expressions of the underlying class structure - as we would have demanded.

– Trade-union implantation is patchy and modest. There is very little sense that the organised working class is still the decisive lever of social transformation, as opposed to one “movement” among many in an archipelago of resistances.

– Above all, there is a palpable aversion to anything which smells of Leninist party-building. “Centralism” is suspect; “vanguard” is practically a slur. The organisational imagination hovers somewhere between a campaigning NGO, a reading group, and a loose federation of activists.

It is still recognisably left-wing, often morally serious, occasionally insightful – but it is not what anyone in 1972 would have recognised as a revolutionary Marxist organisation in the Bolshevik sense. Trotsky may be there in the quotations; he is not there in the method.

What broke: historic mission and strategic seriousness

Two great demolitions reshaped the FI and its British fragments.

First, the collapse of the “historic mission” story. For decades, the Ernest Mandel FI lived on the thesis that Trotskyism was the rightful heir to the classical Marxist tradition, temporarily overshadowed by Stalinism, but destined to come into its own once “actually existing socialism” collapsed under its contradictions. The workers would reassess; the Fourth International would stand revealed; history would resume its proper course under the leadership of sections of the FI.

Then the Eastern Bloc fell - and no Trotskyist current became the organising centre of anything. Instead, we got neoliberal restoration, gangster-capitalism, and a demoralised proletariat. That wasn’t in the script.

At that point, Trotskyism ceased to be the heir apparent and became, at best, one tradition among many revisionist Marxisms. The FI bent towards the surviving currents that still seemed alive – environmentalism, feminism, various identity movements – in order to avoid total irrelevance. In doing so it shed much of its doctrinal paradigm, energy and focus.

Second, the intellectualisation of impotence. As the practical horizon of revolution receded, the new FI became, in effect, a think-tank for radical critical theory: eco-Marxism, feminist Marxism, queer Marxism, decolonial discourse. This colonised the mental space once occupied by close study of the state, class struggle dynamics, and revolutionary strategy.

The result is a politics of moralism. The organisation proclaims the need for rupture; it does not seriously address the mechanics of taking and wielding power. Revolutionary politics without a theory of victory is mere performance, not preparation.

Would Lenin or Trotsky recognise their supposed heirs?

They would see an “International” in which:

– The proletariat has dissolved into a soup of movements and identities, each with its own discourse, none clearly primus inter pares.

– “Seizure of power” appears, if at all, as a distant eschatological symbol rather than a concrete strategic objective one might plan for in pragmatic, logistical detail.

– Political questions are approached primarily in ethical and cultural terms – will this stance make us more inclusive, more intersectional, more attuned to X oppression? – rather than in terms of changing the relation of forces at state level.

– The old transitional method – demands which pose the question of power – has been largely replaced by programmatic-maximalism and movementist-minimalism, with very little in between. Back to the old Second International.

Three exits from Trotskyism

The Trotskyist diaspora has generally taken one of three available exits:

1. Sectarian petrification - preserve the 1970s schema in aspic and insist that nothing fundamental has changed. This is the path of the hardened sects, still doing paper sales as if Wilson were in Downing Street and factories still employed thousands of horny-handed blue-collar workers. Hello SWP.

2. NGO-ification – dissolve into the movements, rebadge as “ecosocialist” or “radical left”, retain some Marxist language but operate in practice as a campaigning network with an intellectual journal attached. This is more or less where the FI and A*CR have ended up.

3. Labourist absorption – accept that the only serious arena is the broad workers’ party and become, in effect, a pressure group on its left wing. Variants of Militant and the Alliance for Workers’ Liberty live here, endlessly reconciling themselves to the rhythms of Labourism.

From militants to curators

So yes, my younger IMG self would barely recognise today’s A*CR as comrades in the old sense. They occupy a different niche in the ecosystem. We were trying, in our hapless way, to train cadres for a future insurrection that never arrived. They are curating a moral and intellectual discourse – ecosocialist, intersectional, movementist – in a world which has largely given up on the idea of revolution altogether.

It's humbling to read the declassified papers of the old Special Branch in the early 1970s, when the IMG (and other Trotskyist organisations) were written off as earnest talking shops: zero threat to the state. But then the objective situation never unwrapped into that October uprising: if it had, we would have known - at least intellectually - what to do and been up for it. Would the comrades today denounce such a mass popular revolt against the state as - 'Populism'?

I rather think Your Party would.


Tuesday, December 02, 2025

My visit to the luthier today


Tuesday, 2 December 2025

This afternoon I drove the five minutes across town to visit our local luthier, Tim — the sort of quietly competent guitar technician whose workshop, tucked into the back of his garden, is crammed full of the esoteric tools of his trade, together with a collection of instruments. I took two guitars: my ancient, bargain-basement classical, now warped by decades of tension and neglect, and the new Córdoba C1M, whose bottom two strings (E and A) had snapped almost immediately after I bought it.

The failure of those wound strings had made me suspect a manufacturing fault in the nut at the headstock, some roughness. Hence the visit. Tim put the Córdoba on his bench, peered at the nut slots, the wraps, the break points. His verdict was brisk and reassuring: the wound bass strings were visibly corroded. That alone explained the sudden unravelling. The D string (string 4) was half-gone as well. The guitar itself, though, was in excellent condition.

He then examined the aged relic. Years of string tension had bowed the body; the bridge now sat too high; the frets were uneven; the strings themselves stiff and unyielding. The repairs, he reckoned, would run to about £130. Given that the new Córdoba — a far superior instrument — cost £132, the economics were self-evidently absurd. We agreed the old guitar had had its day.

I’ll restring it anyway, keep it downstairs, and use it as a knockabout practice instrument when I can’t be bothered to trek upstairs. The new Córdoba will remain the guitar that delivers on sound quality and playability.

A useful half hour, and an unexpectedly pleasant one. Tim is exactly the sort of artisan you hope to find: expert, self-effacing, and equipped to handle anything from fretwork to electronics. Good to know he’s close by.


'Winter Under Water' - a review by Adam Carlton


Amazon - and what an alluring cover image!

---

Review: Winter Under Water by James Hopkin

Here is the Amazon description of this interestingly-flawed novel.

"When Joseph meets Marta, who has come to the UK to research the forgotten histories of remarkable women from across Europe, he is captivated, and Marta feels the same; when she returns to her previous life, their relationship continues through letters and phone calls. Then Joseph decides to visit Marta in her native Poland.

"Interlinking Joseph’s often strange experiences with Marta’s letters to him, Winter Under Water is a book about who we are and who we choose to love; exploring issues of isolation and identity, of home and belonging, it is also, ultimately, a book that suggests you only truly know a person or a place when you can sit in silence and not feel compelled to break it - in any language."


That's not my take, however.

James Hopkin’s debut novel Winter Under Water (2007) presents itself as a love story in Kraków in the early 1990s, but its real subject is Poland at the hinge of history. Joseph, a rootless Englishman, and Marta, a Polish academic, are less characters than ciphers. Their romance is the surface play of deeper forces: the collision of Western liberal cosmopolitanism with Eastern European post-Communist disillusion.

Joseph stands in for that familiar tribe of educated but precarious Western youth - the bohemian “precariat” - arts degrees in hand but no prospects. They cling to those universalist, atomised liberal values they absorbed in their universities, and they attach these values to the supra-national promise of “Europe”. To them, Europe is not a continent but a dream: a utopian ideology; a secular faith to fill the void of religion and class.

Marta emerges from a parallel class in Poland: young, educated, equally disenchanted with her own society, but tempered by history. Having lived under Communism, she has seen “progressive” ideology deployed as a weapon of oppression. Polish dissidents even in their idealism were trained in cynicism - hard-headed realism about human weakness and the corruption of systems. Marta, though alienated from her own culture perceives the shallowness of Joseph's fashionable worldview.

Their supposed love affair - briefly intense followed by a slow sputtering - is that as metaphor. It dramatizes the brief encounter of Western utopian liberalism with Eastern post-ideological scepticism. And, like their relationship, it is doomed. Both currents are swiftly swept aside by the onrush of the new bourgeois order: the Kantor currency-exchange booths, the gold-toothed hustlers, the flood of Western kitsch and consumerism. Romance fades as ideals dissolve into commerce and boho tourism.

Hopkin captures this moment with startling prose. Critics rightly praised his metaphors, which illuminate the novel like sudden flashes of winter light: paranoia sitting on a man “like a pigeon on a crust”, or roads that glimmer “like tin trays carrying water”. These images linger long after the plot - such as it is - is forgotten. His great gift is atmosphere, and in this book the atmosphere is history itself - the feel of a city poised between collapse and colonisation.

But the weakness remains: most saliently with Joseph and Marta themselves - they are exasperating: Joseph, narcissistic and self-indulgent; Marta, lost in contradictions.

Winter Under Water succeeds, then, as a prose-poem of transition rather than as a novel of character. It is a portrait of Poland’s fleeting liminality, when the old ideologies had collapsed but the new consumerist dispensation had not yet locked in.


Monday, December 01, 2025

The Cheng Man-ching 32-Movement Sword Form


As I mentioned, I renegotiated terms at the gym a few days ago and so returned to my neglected martial arts practice. I begin with the 24-Form Simplified Taijiquan, coaxing my body into its remembered grace, letting its slow geometry settle my mind.

From there I shift gear: shotokan kihon, kumite, the first four Heian kata.

Finally a couple of rounds of the Cheng Man-ching 32-Movement Sword Form (see the video above). 

Overall, a forty minute gentle ascent, from calm towards ever-increasing lethality.

These days I draw the court-curtains around me. One shouldn’t inflict an elderly man with a steel sword hissing through the air on the young souls playing badminton on adjacent courts.