Pip: A Cambridge professor is celebrated, then destroyed, then dead — and the British press is already turning his death into content. Welcome to A Trumpet of Sedition.
Mara: This episode covers one story, and freerein61 makes the case that it isn't really about one man — it's about how media, class power, and institutional symbolism interact to produce a foreseeable tragedy.
Pip: Let's start with the manufactured scandal itself, and what the post argues was actually driving it.
The Death of Jason Arday: Media, Class, and the Machinery of Destruction
Mara: The post opens with a straightforward claim: Arday's downfall wasn't personal failure. It was structural. The question the piece is asking is whether what happened to him was journalism at all, or something else entirely.
Pip: The post is direct about what that something else was. The setup is the tabloid press recycling the same limited allegations across dozens of outlets, and the conclusion drawn is this: "This was not journalism; it was a political tactic."
Mara: And the stakes follow immediately from that framing. If it's a political tactic, then the resignation that preceded any formal inquiry wasn't a consequence of wrongdoing being proven — it was the tactic working.
Pip: The post is careful to say the plagiarism allegations were serious enough to warrant formal academic investigation. Those processes exist precisely because they're slow and careful. The media didn't wait.
Mara: Cambridge didn't wait either, and the post holds the university directly responsible. It describes a pattern: institutions adopt the symbolism of diversity, then withdraw protection the moment that symbol becomes inconvenient. The phrase used is that the human toll is "paid by the person whose identity is exploited for institutional advantage."
Pip: Which is a fairly precise description of how symbolic politics functions as a shield for the institution rather than a support for the individual.
Mara: The post extends this to the so-called quality press. Broadsheets and public broadcasters aren't let off the hook — their coverage "differed mainly in tone, not substance," repeating the same allegations and the same framing of Arday's downfall as inevitable.
Pip: One unified ideological system with better grammar.
Mara: The psychological dimension gets its own section. Arday's family described years of public abuse, and the post treats that seriously — arguing that prolonged media exposure creates conditions of isolation and collective condemnation that carry direct psychological consequences. The media, it says, is responsible for fostering those conditions.
Pip: And then, after his death, the same outlets ran live updates. The acceleration of the news cycle consuming the person before any process could conclude, and then consuming the death itself.
Mara: The post ties all of this to class structure — a press controlled by a small number of billionaires, serving ruling-class interests by making visibility feel dangerous and dissent feel perilous. The Arday case, in that reading, is less a scandal and more a demonstration.
Pip: The closing argument is that identity politics, as practiced by elite institutions, doesn't address inequality — it rebrands it. And when the symbolic figure stops being useful, the same machinery turns.
Mara: The post ends by arguing that only working-class political action, guided by a socialist program, can challenge the conditions that made this outcome foreseeable. That's where it lands.
Pip: A story about one person that the post insists is about a system — and the argument is hard to dismiss when the system's behavior is this consistent.
Mara: The next episode will tell us whether that argument extends further. The conditions it describes aren't unique to this case.
The death of Jason Arday, announced on 14 August 2026, marks a deeply troubling moment in British society. Celebrated as Cambridge University’s youngest Black professor in 2023, Arday was last week removed from his role amid intense media attention over allegations of plagiarism and false claims about his athletic and fundraising history. He was found dead in South London on Friday afternoon. His family links this tragedy to years of public abuse. Regardless of what the coroner concludes, one thing is clear: Arday’s downfall was not due to personal failings, but resulted from a coordinated political and media campaign driven by the class interests of Britain’s ruling elite.
A Manufactured Scandal
The allegations against Arday involved parts of his doctoral thesis—serious enough to trigger formal academic investigations. Such processes tend to be slow, careful, and largely unseen by the public. They lack spectacle, headlines, or opportunities for political manipulation. Instead, the British media orchestrated a public trial over several weeks, recycling the same few claims across many outlets, all vying for clicks and ad revenue. The tabloid press, along with supposedly reputable outlets, turned Arday into a daily target of mockery. Even before any official inquiry started, he was forced to resign. This was not journalism; it was a political tactic.
Cambridge University’s Role
Cambridge University directly bears responsibility for the circumstances that resulted in Arday’s death. For many years, the university showcased his appointment as a sign of its “progressive” change—a symbolic act intended to hide its core role as a training ground for Britain’s ruling class. However, when the media turned hostile, Cambridge failed to defend him, demand due process, or contest the tabloids’ hysteria. Instead, the university let the spectacle unfold, distancing itself from the person it had once promoted. This pattern is all too familiar: elite institutions gladly adopt the symbolism of “diversity” but disregard individuals when their visibility becomes inconvenient, leaving the human toll to be paid by the person whose identity is exploited for institutional advantage.
The Media Pile‑On as a Social Phenomenon
The intense media campaign surrounding Jason Arday in the weeks before his death is a key part of the case, not just an incidental detail. It functions as the main force driving the tragedy. To grasp what happened, we must see the media not merely as individual outlets or journalists but as a social institution deeply linked to the class system of capitalist society. Arday’s destruction was not due to “press excess” or editorial mistakes alone. It was a foreseeable result of a system in which media commercial interests, ruling-class political goals, and the ideological needs of elite institutions interact to create cycles of symbolic glorification and public destruction.
The Tabloid Mode of Production
The British media follows a logic Marxists have long critiqued: turning human beings into commodities. In tabloids — now largely merging with mainstream outlets — the core content is personal scandal, humiliation, and reputation destruction. Their circulation and online ad revenue rely on a steady stream of such stories. The Arday case exemplified this formula by featuring a prominent academic from an elite university, allegations of misconduct, a “fall from grace” narrative, and racialised framing that British tabloids have exploited for decades.
Once the story emerged, the machinery kicked in automatically. All outlets echoed the same limited claims, each presented with a new headline. The content was interchangeable; the goal was not to inform but to attract engagement. This media behaviour was not unusual; it was the standard operation of a profit-oriented system.
The Political Function of Scandal
These scandals serve a political function by providing a spectacle that distracts from Britain’s social crisis, which includes collapsing public services, growing inequality, militarism, and the erosion of democratic rights. The destruction of an individual acts as a surrogate drama, allowing a society in decline to project its anxieties and frustrations. The media’s focus on Arday’s alleged plagiarism — a matter ideally addressed through academic processes — was not driven by concern for scholarly integrity. Instead, it aimed to craft a narrative of moral failure, creating a personal drama for millions to consume. Its political importance lies in shifting attention away from the systemic failures of British capitalism.
The Role of “Respectable” Media
It would be a mistake to blame only the tabloid press for the pile-on. The so-called “quality” outlets—such as broadsheets, public broadcasters, and liberal publications—also participated fully. Their coverage differed mainly in tone, not substance, as they repeated the same allegations, insinuations, and framing of Arday as a figure whose downfall was both inevitable and deserved. This shared approach is notable because it reveals how the media functions as a unified ideological system, despite internal differences. The line between tabloid sensationalism and liberal respectability disappears when attacking someone whose symbolic value has shifted from an asset to a liability. The media’s role is not to investigate but to uphold the ideological limits of acceptable public discussion.
The Psychology of the Pile‑On
The media pile-on is more than just a structural issue; it is deeply psychological. It isolates the target, removes their institutional support, and subjects them to constant public scrutiny. The individual becomes the focus of a collective condemnation ritual, leading to intense psychological strain. Arday’s family stated there were “years of public abuse,” which is not an exaggeration. The media’s coverage was not limited to the weeks before his death; it was part of a longer pattern in which his initial fame turned into vulnerability. Such prolonged exposure has a significant psychological impact, and the media is directly responsible for fostering the conditions that lead individuals to despair.
The Acceleration of the News Cycle
The rapid progression of the Arday story highlights a broader crisis in modern media. The 24-hour news cycle thrives on constant updates, with scandals serving as endless sources. Once Arday resigned, the story swiftly shifted from “investigation” to “collapse.” When he passed away, media outlets that had pursued him relentlessly turned his death into breaking news, featuring live updates and sensational headlines. This acceleration of news is not neutral; it hinders thoughtful reflection, bypasses due process, and consumes individuals before any legal or institutional action can occur. The media’s response after Arday’s death—recycling existing facts, speculating on causes, and exploiting the tragedy as content—was a natural extension of the same logic that ended his career.
The media’s involvement in the Arday case can only be understood within the framework of class dominance. The British press, controlled by a small group of billionaires and corporate giants, serves the ruling elite’s interests. Its role is to influence public perception in ways that uphold the current social hierarchy. Targeting symbolic figures—whether celebrities, academics, or political critics—bolsters the idea that individuals are powerless against the machinery of publicity. This fosters cynicism, resignation, and fear among the public. It sends the message that visibility is dangerous, dissent is perilous, and institutions will not defend those who lose favour. Thus, the Arday case is more than a media scandal; it reflects broader authoritarian trends in modern capitalism.
Identity Politics and the Class Function of Symbolic Elevation
Arday’s academic work is shaped by critical race theory, which has gained prominence in elite universities over the last decade. This ideology, rooted in postmodernism and racial essentialism, aims to incorporate privileged upper-middle-class individuals into the state and corporate sectors based on identity rather than class. Cambridge did not promote Arday because he represented working-class interests; instead, they supported him because his scholarship aligned with the university’s ideological goals—providing a racialized viewpoint that allowed the institution to appear progressive while preserving its class hierarchy. Identity politics does not address inequality; it rebrands it. When the symbolic figure becomes politically inconvenient, the same system that champions him is used to undermine him.Predictably, pseudo-left groups—such as NGOs, academic diversity bureaus, and Labour Party affiliates—have reacted to Arday’s death by calling for more of the same politics that contributed to this tragedy. They claim the lesson is to increase “representation,” expand diversity programs, and adopt more racialised analytical frameworks.
The Arday case exposes a significant contradiction in modern liberal politics. While elite institutions leverage identity to legitimize themselves, they neither genuinely protect nor support those they elevate. Their view on identity is driven by necessity rather than solidarity. The working class must develop its own understanding. Racial oppression exists but is fundamentally linked to capitalism, which generates it. Tackling racism can’t rely on critical race theory’s racial essentialism or mere political symbolism. Instead, it requires a concerted effort by the working class to dismantle the social system that maintains inequality, exploitation, and the destructive media.
Jason Arday’s death is tragic but understandable. It stems from a society that devalues human beings, distorts identities, and sees elite institutions as self-serving. Meanwhile, the media acts as an unchecked source of humiliation and harm. The issue isn’t that universities should treat symbolic figures with more care; rather, the politics surrounding symbolism itself is a trap. It obscures the class realities of capitalist society and exposes individuals to media and institutional abuse. Only the independent actions of the working class, guided by a socialist program, can challenge these conditions and prevent future tragedies.
In October 1999, Bookmarks published Scotland: Class and Nation, marking a moment of intellectual assertion within the Scottish section of the Socialist Workers Party. Edited by Chris Bambery, the SWP’s longtime national secretary and a founding member of the International Socialist Group, the collection aimed to influence the debate sparked by devolution and the revival of the Scottish Parliament. It examined whether England had historically oppressed Scotland, whether Scottish society was more progressive than the rest of Britain, and what position socialists should take on the national question as independence moved back onto the political stage.
The book’s key feature is Neil Davidson’s comprehensive essay “Scotland’s Bourgeois Revolution,” which spans pages 37 to 133 and effectively captures the volume’s central argument. Davidson argued that Scotland experienced a true bourgeois revolution, leading to the formation of a nation through capitalist growth rather than innate ethnicity. His thesis, further elaborated in Discovering the Scottish Revolution and Origins of Scottish Nationhood, made a significant impact on Marxist historiography. Davidson would later become a leading Marxist historian of Scottish nationalism.
The book’s political framework — along with the SWP’s evolution — uncovers a deeper issue: the crisis of Marxism in Britain around 2000 and the Cliffite tradition’s failure to uphold a clear stance on the national question. The SWP’s shift from cautious unionism in 1999 to strong support for independence in 2014 reflects centrism: a middle-class organisation’s attempt to adapt to changing political dynamics. This essay examines that trajectory, contrasts it with the Trotskyist position of the International Committee of the Fourth International (ICFI), and argues that the debate inaugurated by Scotland: Class and Nation ultimately exposes the gulf between Marxist internationalism and the nationalist drift of the British pseudo‑left.
The SWP in 1999: Cautious Unionism in Marxist Dress
The SWP’s stance on class and nation in Scotland rests on three key assumptions. Firstly, they contend that Scotland is not an oppressed nation. Referencing Lenin’s distinction between oppressor and oppressed nations, the authors argue that Scotland does not fall into the oppressed category. Scotland has played a subordinate yet collaborative role in British imperialism, rather than being a colony. Its working class has not been systematically deprived of national rights, and its bourgeoisie has been absorbed into the British ruling elite. This perspective counters the romantic nationalism promoted by Tom Nairn and parts of the Scottish left, which depict Scotland as a diminished or incomplete nation.
Secondly, the book contends that nationalism is not automatically progressive. It claims Scottish nationalism, even in its civic form, serves as a bourgeois ideology. Although it can unite popular discontent, it fails to resolve capitalism’s inherent contradictions. The SNP is characterised as a party representing the Scottish bourgeoisie, aligned with neoliberal policies, and opposed to working-class interests. Thirdly, maintaining class unity across Britain is essential. The SWP argued that the working class in Scotland, England, and Wales share common interests. The book warns that independence could divide this unity, weaken the labour movement, and bolster nationalism on both sides. While socialists should support the right to self-determination, they should not promote independence. The book’s strategic conclusion is clear: independence is not a socialist goal.
Davidson’s essay laid out the historical framework for his political stance. By showing that Scotland experienced a bourgeois revolution, he challenged ideas that Scotland was a “failed nation” or merely under English rule. His approach was thorough, yet in 1999, he did not advocate for independence. Instead, it strengthened the SWP’s scepticism. However, by the 2014 independence referendum, the SWP changed its stance, releasing pamphlets that supported a “Yes” vote. They argued that independence would weaken the British state, damage the US–UK “special relationship,” and create opportunities for radical politics. This change was significant and driven more by political reasons than by theoretical considerations.
The SNP’s civic-nationalist campaign gained broad support from the middle class and some sections of the working class. Meanwhile, the SWP, already dealing with internal issues, changed its position to support this movement instead of maintaining its prior scepticism. The downfall of the SSP and the British left’s crisis removed an important unifying issue for left-leaning workers. To stay relevant, the SWP joined the independence movement.
The SWP’s own degeneration
The 2013 rape allegations scandal severely damaged the organisation’s credibility. Its move towards independence was part of a wider effort to rebrand itself within Scottish politics. Keir McKechnie, the SWP’s Scottish organiser, acknowledged that Scotland is not an oppressed nation, Scottish workers are not more radical than English workers, and independence would establish a capitalist state similar to others. Despite this, he supported independence. This stance was not rooted in Marxism; it was opportunism.
The ICFI and SEP oppose both unionist and Scottish nationalism by advocating a clear Marxist perspective. They argued that the working class has no reason to form new capitalist states, as independence would create two rival bourgeois governments—Scottish and British—both supporting austerity, NATO, and capitalist interests. They consider dividing workers by nationality to be reactionary, stressing that the main goal should be uniting workers throughout Britain and Europe in a collective struggle against capitalism. Their objective isn’t a “socialist Scotland” but the creation of the United Socialist States of Europe, which involves overthrowing capitalism across the continent. In 2014, the SEP called for a “No” vote, not because they supported the British state, but because they opposed nationalism and the formation of a new capitalist state. This stance was the only Trotskyist viewpoint in the debate.
Neil Davidson’s Trajectory: From Marxist Historian to Nationalist Sympathiser
Neil Davidson (1957–2020) holds a unique position in contemporary Scottish Marxist historiography. A rare blend of meticulous archival research, ambitious theory, and active political involvement characterises his contributions. However, his intellectual journey—moving from strict historical materialism to a form of leftist nationalism—reflects the wider confusion experienced by the British Marxist left during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. To understand Davidson is also to grasp the crisis Marxism faced in Scotland.
Davidson gained prominence in the 1980s and 1990s, when Scotland’s industrial sector was collapsing, and the Labour Party was distancing itself from its traditional working-class base. The decline of miners, shipbuilders, and engineers created a void that brought issues of national identity and constitutional reform to the forefront. His early political views were shaped within the International Socialists/SWP framework. This mattered because the SWP offered a platform for Marxist discussion. Still, its core theories—especially its rejection of Trotsky’s critique of Stalinism and its “state capitalist” theory—limited the development of a fully revolutionary outlook.
Despite joining an organisation that valued rigour, Davidson’s intellectual instincts went beyond its standards. He supported historical materialism, comparative analysis, and the classical Marxist concept of uneven development. His early essays demonstrated themes that would define his later work, including resistance to nationalist myths, focus on class formation, and an examination of Scotland’s role within larger British and global capitalism. His significant breakthrough occurred with the publication of *Discovering the Scottish Revolution, 1692–1746* (2003) and *The Origins of Scottish Nationhood* (2000). These books cemented his reputation as one of the most dedicated Marxist historians of Scotland in his generation.
Davidson’s thesis on the bourgeois revolution contended, countering both nationalist romanticism and certain Marxist orthodoxy, that Scotland experienced a genuine bourgeois revolution. It was neither a direct replication of the English model nor a mere integration into a pre-existing British bourgeoisie. Instead, it was a unique process where capitalist social relations transformed Scottish society, leading to the creation of a modern nation. This stance challenged the prominent view associated with Tom Nairn and parts of the SWP, which argued that Scotland never fully completed a bourgeois revolution, resulting in a “stunted” national consciousness. Davidson’s approach was rooted in historical analysis, theoretically ambitious, and politically provocative. It discredited claims that Scotland was an oppressed nation and offered a materialist perspective on the development of Scottish national identity.
Davidson opposed ethnic and cultural essentialism, arguing that nations are not eternal but shaped by capitalist development. He saw Scotland’s nationhood as emerging from the transformation of feudal relations, the rise of commercial agriculture, and integration into imperial trade networks. This perspective aligns with the classical Marxist tradition, yet it also foreshadowed later conflicts between his historical approach and his political beliefs.
The SWP Years: The Limits of Cliffism
Davidson’s most significant period occurred during his time in the SWP. The party provided a platform, audience, and space for debate, but also imposed certain theoretical boundaries. In his 1999 essay in Scotland: Class and Nation, Davidson outlined his core argument: Scotland was not an oppressed nation, Scottish nationalism was not inherently progressive, and independence was not an essential goal for socialists. Instead, he stressed the importance of working-class unity across Britain. While this position was clearly Marxist, the SWP’s theoretical foundation was somewhat fragile.
Davidson’s historical work was meticulous, yet the SWP’s politics grew more opportunistic over time. The party vacillated between revolutionary language and aligning with middle-class movements. Davidson’s political journey eventually mirrored this contradiction. A key turning point in his political development happened in the decade before the 2014 independence referendum. The SWP’s decline, especially after the 2013 rape allegations scandal, fragmented the organisation. Davidson distanced himself from the party, and the intellectual hub in Scotland shifted towards the nationalist-left circles around the Radical Independence Campaign, Bella Caledonia, and parts of the academic left. The 2014 referendum sparked a wave of civic nationalism, engaging many middle-class and some working-class groups. Davidson increasingly believed that independence could weaken the British state, challenge imperial alliances, and create opportunities for radical politics.
This marked a departure from his 1999 stance. Davidson’s later work aimed to reconcile Marxist internationalism with support for independence. He claimed that dismantling the British state could be a step toward socialist change. However, this argument contains a contradiction: if Scotland is not an oppressed nation, and independence leads to a capitalist state, then the main reason for independence shifts from Marxist ideals to geopolitical concerns. This approach diverges from traditional Marxist views on the national question.
The 2015 debate with Sandy McBurney
Davidson’s discussion with Sandy McBurney in Critique (2015) clarified his evolving stance. He argued for independence as a strategic challenge to the British state, while McBurney held a more conventional Marxist scepticism. The exchange highlighted Davidson’s transition from historical materialism to a type of left-wing nationalism—a change influenced by the referendum politics and the ideological environment of the Scottish left.
Conclusion: Davidson’s Legacy and the Crisis of Marxism
Neil Davidson’s intellectual journey reflects the broader crisis facing Marxism in Britain. His early work remains crucial: rigorous, grounded in materialism, and challenging nationalist myths. His thesis on the bourgeois revolution transformed Scottish history. Yet, his later political shift—supporting independence—mirrors the confusion among the British left caused by neoliberalism, deindustrialisation, and the decline of traditional working-class communities. Consequently, Davidson’s legacy is twofold: he is a significant Marxist historian of Scotland whose work will endure, and a political figure whose later views show the pressures facing contemporary leftist thought.
Scotland: Class and Nation serves as a significant historical record. It documents the SWP during a period when it still aimed to present a Marxist perspective on the national question. Davidson’s essay remains an important contribution to Scottish historiography. However, the book also highlights the weaknesses in the SWP’s political stance. Its 1999 stance was not Trotskyist, and its 2014 shift was not Marxist. Both shifts reflect centrist tendencies—wavering between revolutionary rhetoric and accommodating bourgeois nationalism. The core divide in the debate is not merely between the SWP’s two positions, but between various forms of nationalism and the Fourth International’s internationalist approach.
The Scottish working class will not find liberation through independence or through the defence of the British state. Its emancipation lies in the unity of workers across Britain and Europe, in the struggle for socialism on an international scale. The task remains what it has always been: to build a revolutionary leadership rooted in Marxist internationalism, capable of opposing nationalism in all its forms and advancing the perspective of world socialist revolution.
Sources and Bibliography
I. Neil Davidson: Primary Works
Davidson, Neil. The Origins of Scottish Nationhood. London: Pluto Press, 2000.
Tom Nairn’s The Break-up of Britain is among the most intellectually ambitious works produced by the New Left Review milieu. It also clearly illustrates the political and theoretical deadlock the British left faced after the war. The book remains compelling not because its predictions were accurate—which they repeatedly were not—but because it captures a deep sense of disorientation: the decline of revolutionary Marxism as a practical force, the move of intellectuals into academia, and the search for new political avenues through nationalism.
This critique does not aim to dismiss Nairn’s work but instead seeks to place it within its historical and political context. It also aims to reveal the theoretical reversals that turned nationalism from a bourgeois ideology into a stand-in for class politics. Nairn’s well-known assertion that nationalism is “Janus-faced — simultaneously progressive… and regressive” is not a groundbreaking insight but a way to avoid deeper engagement. It functions as a conceptual cover for a political setback.
The Nairn–Anderson Thesis and the Myth of the “Incomplete Bourgeois Revolution”
The Nairn–Anderson thesis starts with a straightforward idea: Britain’s bourgeois revolution was “premature and incomplete,” leading to an outdated state setup — monarchy, Lords, and the established Church — that persisted into modern times and hindered capitalist growth. Nairn’s later term, Ukania, illustrated this idea of a refined yet backward state “cloaked in antique attire.” However, satire is not analysis. The British state was not a relic; it was the most powerful agent of capitalist expansion in history. “The monarchy, the House of Lords, and the established Church were not feudal relics holding back capitalist development — they were the specific institutional forms through which British capitalism achieved global dominance.”
The English Revolution of the 1640s and the settlement of 1688 were not merely ‘incomplete” bourgeois revolutions. Instead, they represented the political mechanisms through which a rising bourgeoisie reinforced its authority in partnership with a landowning class already realigned around capitalist farming. Britain’s rise in industry, empire, and global dominance was achieved not despite these institutions but because of them. Nairn’s argument, therefore, misunderstands the nature of the British state. The crisis it faced in the 1960s–70s was not a delayed consequence of 1688, but a result of Britain’s declining global position — a crisis of capitalism, not merely of outdated constitutional traditions.
Nationalism and the New Left’s Theoretical Vacuum
Nairn’s second major assertion — that classical Marxism lacked a comprehensive theory of nationalism — is equally unsubstantiated. Marxism has always viewed nationalism as a historically shaped bourgeois ideology. Lenin’s discussions on the national question, Trotsky’s insights on the Balkans and colonial regions, and even Stalin’s early work under Lenin’s guidance form an extensive theoretical foundation. The Marxist stance is straightforward: nationalism can only be progressive under specific, historically determined circumstances (such as unifying national markets against feudal division or rallying colonial peoples against imperialism). Its natural tendency is to place the working class under the control of “its own” bourgeoisie. Marxists’ role is to reveal nationalism’s class nature and promote workers’ international solidarity. Nairn’s assertion that nationalism is “Janus-faced” — both progressive and regressive — elevates a historically contingent phenomenon to a fundamental characteristic of capitalism.
This isn’t a deepening of Marxism but a step back from it. It permits nationalism to be seen as a valid political tool rather than an obstacle to working-class unity. For the New Left Review circle, nationalism’s appeal was more existential than theoretical. With no revolutionary party in sight, nationalism provided a movement where the working class seemed passive, a sense of identity amid fragmented class consciousness, and drama in a politics that had become overly technical. In this way, nationalism served as a romantic alternative to revolutionary politics.
Nairn’s most significant theoretical contribution is his adoption of bourgeois sociology—such as Gellner and Hechter’s concept of “internal colonialism”—to show that nationalism emerges in response to uneven development. In this framework, peripheral regions rally “the people” through nationalism, which serves as their only form of resistance. Consequently, nationalism becomes the primary political expression of developmental inequality, while class struggle is relegated to a secondary role. This approach reverses the traditional Marxist view of the relationship between base and superstructure: for Marxists, uneven development leads to class contradictions, with nationalism as an ideological response. For Nairn, uneven development creates national contradictions, and national mobilisation replaces class struggle.
This inversion underpins Nairn’s backing of Scottish nationalism. When nationalism is viewed as inherently progressive, its class implications are overlooked. The bourgeois nature of the SNP, its support for NATO, and its austerity policies all fade into the background as part of the broader idea of “national development.”
The Break‑Up Thesis and the Real Nature of Scottish Nationalism
Nairn’s prediction of Britain’s breakup during the 1970s crisis proved premature. The 1979 devolution referendums failed to cause fragmentation, and when devolution eventually happened in 1997–99, it was a top-down, managed reform, contrary to Nairn’s thesis that such change was impossible. The core issue, however, is political: the SNP is not a movement of popular resistance but a bourgeois party advocating austerity, NATO militarism, corporate tax competition, and the transformation of Scotland into a competitive platform for global capitalism.
During the 2014 referendum, the SEP argued that “The SNP’s real aim was to transform Scotland into a low-tax, cheap-labour hub for the benefit of banks and transnational corporations.” Scotland is not an oppressed nation and was not colonised. The Scottish bourgeoisie fully engaged in British imperialism. Scottish workers face oppression as workers, not as Scots. The 1707 Act of Union set the stage for “the first industrial working class in the world,” and since then, workers throughout Britain have fought together in major struggles. Nairn’s “internal colonialism” theory falls apart upon scrutiny. It’s a political fiction meant to make nationalism appear progressive.
The Pseudo‑Left and English Nationalism
English nationalism is the most dangerous culmination of the pseudo-left’s political decline. For years, they idealised Scottish and Welsh nationalism as “progressive,” “anti-imperial,” or “Janus-faced.” However, the logic of nationalism extends beyond Hadrian’s Wall. When class politics give way to territorial grievances, England itself transforms into a “nation” waiting to be rediscovered, reimagined, and ultimately exploited. The pseudo-left didn’t create English nationalism but fostered its development. They started by claiming Britain was an “incomplete nation,” a constitutional relic with outdated institutions blocking progress. They adopted Tom Nairn’s view that nationalism is a structural response to uneven development. They promoted the myth that Scotland and Wales were “internal colonies,” oppressed by an English-dominated state. They encouraged workers to see themselves as Scots, Welsh, or Irish first, rather than as workers. But nationalism isn’t a scalpel; it’s a virus that spreads uncontrollably once unleashed.
The pseudo-lefts now face the monster they contributed to creating: English nationalism as a political force. They cannot counter it because they share its core assumption—that the nation, rather than the working class, is the key political unit. English nationalism is not a revolt of the oppressed but the ideological stance of a bourgeoisie aiming to reshape the state for its own benefit. It claims to offer “sovereignty” while enforcing austerity, “control” while increasing exploitation. It talks about “the people” but serves capital, exemplifying nationalism as a tool to bind workers to their ruling class. The pseudo-lefts are unable to oppose this because they helped develop it — replacing internationalism with localism, class politics with cultural grievances, Marxism with academic radicalism. They embraced regionalism, community politics, and “progressive patriotism,” even flirting with English identity as a form of resistance. In doing so, they legitimised the very categories that English nationalism now exploits.
The disintegration of Britain goes beyond just a constitutional crisis; it reflects the ideological collapse of the left. The pseudo-lefts have split workers along national lines at a time when capitalism calls for their solidarity. They have made nationalism the default mode of dissent, ceding political ground to the bourgeoisie. English nationalism isn’t the solution; it’s a symptom of Britain’s deeper crisis. The pseudo-lefts, having forsaken the working class for nationalist causes, are partly responsible for this rise. The working class has no nation; its future depends on fighting for socialism both across Britain and globally. While pseudo-lefts promote nationalism, Marxism stands for liberation.
The New Left Review Project in Historical Perspective
Nairn’s work is deeply connected to the wider history of the New Left Review (NLR). The NLR represented a form of academic Marxism that emphasised theoretical innovation rather than revolutionary action. Its emphasis on nationalism, Western Marxism, and structuralist sociology indicated a political shift away from the aim of a global socialist revolution. In the postwar era, the working class’s crisis largely stemmed from leadership failures—driven by betrayals from Stalinism, social democracy, and trade union bureaucracy—rather than a collapse of Marxist theory itself. Consequently, the NLR distanced itself from revolutionary parties and focused on developing new theoretical frameworks. Nairn’s emphasis on nationalism illustrates this strategic retreat.
History demonstrates that seeking national self-determination as an ultimate goal has led to conflicts such as the Balkan wars of the 1990s, instances of ethnic cleansing, NATO military interventions, and the rise of impoverished micro-states. Pseudo-left organisations that supported Scottish independence in 2014 later endorsed NATO’s proxy war in Ukraine, aligning with fascist groups under the pretext of “self-determination.” When international working-class solidarity breaks down, nationalism often becomes a stepping stone to imperialism.
Conclusion: Marxism Against Nationalism
Tom Nairn’s The Break-up of Britain remains a significant account of an intellectual crisis. It is sincere, insightful, and highly indicative of underlying issues. However, its theoretical framework fails at a crucial point: nationalism cannot support the working class. It functions as a bourgeois ideology with a dual nature that consistently favours capital. The working class does not belong to any nation. Its liberation depends on defeating capitalism worldwide, not on expanding borders. The crisis of the British state—and any nation-state—can only be addressed through efforts to establish a workers’ government and a united Socialist Europe. Nairn’s book is important and worth reading. Nevertheless, it must be approached critically, as a snapshot of how parts of the left turned away from Marxism toward nationalism. This ideology has historically divided and weakened the working class.
Sources and Bibliography
Primary Works by Tom Nairn
Nairn, Tom.The Break‑up of Britain: Crisis and Neo‑Nationalism. London: Verso, 1977.
Nairn, Tom.After Britain: New Labour and the Return of Scotland. London: Granta, 2000.
Nairn, Tom. “The Modern Janus.” New Left Review 94 (1975).
Nairn, Tom. “Scotland and Europe.” New Left Review 160 (1986).
The Nairn–Anderson Thesis
Anderson, Perry. “Origins of the Present Crisis.” New Left Review 23 (1964).
Anderson, Perry.Arguments Within English Marxism. London: Verso, 1980.
A recent study conducted under the EU’s CounteR program—titled “Femcels’ Speeches Between Extreme Solitude and Radical Break with the ‘Alpha World’”—illustrates how contemporary academic research can serve ideological purposes aligned with security interests. Its authors, Séraphin Alava and Rasha Nagem, frame their work as a neutral analysis of online discussions among young women who feel isolated and romantically excluded. However, the study is actually a politically motivated document, part of a state-funded initiative to pathologise the social effects of capitalist failures. Two critical sentences highlight its core message: “Loneliness is treated as a discursive and psychological phenomenon to be typologized, not as a social product of a specific economic order.” “The Femcel, like the incel before her, is thereby transformed from a symptom of social crisis into a potential security risk to be monitored.”
These lines emphasise the main ideological stance: turning social distress into a security concern. The research is carried out within an institution dedicated to “Violent Terrorism and Crime Prediction,” which interprets the analysis exclusively through risk management ideas. Consequently, important questions — such as why now? Why specifically this form? and what socio-economic conditions contribute to this isolation? — are initially overlooked.
The Security Apparatus as Arbiter of Academic Inquiry
The CounteR project is part of a broad EU security research network that has expanded significantly over the past decade. Its primary aim is not to study social phenomena but to classify and predict them. Funding for this research cannot address the social roots of issues like alienation, declining living standards, or the commercialisation of intimate life. Instead, it concentrates on monitoring, categorising, and intercepting online expressions of distress. This restriction is political rather than academic. The EU, along with Britain and the US, has established a surveillance system that treats political dissent, psychological distress, and social isolation as interchangeable indicators of “radicalisation.” The Femcel is merely viewed as a data point within a risk-scoring framework.
The study’s categories — “Alpha world rejection,” “feminist consciousness,” “radicalisation trajectory” — are not neutral labels. They are part of a security framework aimed at classifying populations by risk level. In essence, the typology created by the authors acts as a taxonomy for a database.
A Long Lineage: Cold War Social‑Pathology Research
The main idea behind the Femcel study’s ideology is not new. It carries on a Cold War-era social science tradition that regarded the societal effects of capitalist crises as primarily psychological problems. Oscar Lewis’s “culture of poverty” concept redefined structural difficulties as a self-perpetuating psychological condition. Poverty was interpreted not as a result of exploitation but as stemming from “maladaptive behaviours.” This view aligned with Cold War liberalism by distancing inequality from political causes and instead blaming it on the mindset of those in poverty.
The Frankfurt School’s concept of the Authoritarian Personality, adapted by US Cold War agencies, framed political tendencies as psychological disorders. This shift diverted attention from social causes of fascism, instead emphasising individual personality traits. As a result, political threats were seen as personal psychological issues rather than linked to class struggles. Postwar research on “juvenile delinquency” often interpreted the decline of urban working-class areas as behavioural problems needing supervision, rather than recognising it as a result of deindustrialisation and racial segregation. The Alava–Nagem paper reflects this Cold War perspective: social crises are simplified into psychological types; alienation is regarded as a risk factor; resentment is viewed as a pathology, and structural conditions are not considered. The EU’s counter-radicalisation initiatives are significantly shaped by the UK’s Prevent program, which is among Europe’s most extensive surveillance systems.
Prevent has identified tens of thousands of individuals for deradicalisation efforts, including children as young as four. According to the WSWS, Prevent combines political dissent, mental health issues, and social isolation into a single category called “extremism.’ Its primary strategy is pre-emptive intervention—acting before political consciousness develops. This includes monitoring online speech, conducting risk assessments, and viewing social alienation as a security threat. Furthermore, women’s online spaces are increasingly targeted, under the assumption that “vulnerable individuals” could be more susceptible to extremism.
The Femcel study follows this trend, using Prevent’s risk-tiering approach. It views online discussion as a threat and frames feminist awareness as a potential pathway to radicalisation, ignoring material conditions. To fully understand it, one must consider the incel discourse that sparked it, which itself arose from the broader crisis of social reproduction. After the 2018 Toronto van attack, incels were quickly labelled as terrorists. Media and academic discussions concentrated on misogynistic beliefs, online radicalisation, and psychological issues, while overlooking material factors such as declining living standards, social atomisation, commodified intimacy, and algorithm-driven dating markets.
Both incel and Femcel discussions originate from the decline of community institutions, the commercialisation of romance, the hierarchy of desirability, and the collapse of stable social paths to partnership. However, incels are viewed as a violent danger, whereas Femcels are considered psychologically fragile. Despite this difference, the core issue is identical. The Alava–Nagem study observes that Femcel discourse “diverges from the misogynistic violence associated with segments of the incel milieu,” but still regards Femcels as potential security risks. The fundamental reasoning is consistent: social crises trigger risk assessments.
Dating Apps and the Commodification of Intimacy
The increase in dating app usage over the last decade is often seen as a cultural or technological development. However, it also exposes a deeper social crisis. These platforms, which impact the private lives of hundreds of millions, are not just neutral tools but commercial systems that transform human relationships via market forces. Their growth is also linked to worsening material conditions that once supported stable relationships.
The political economy behind dating apps is straightforward. These platforms prioritise profit, which depends on maintaining user dissatisfaction. Their business model involves encouraging frequent user turnover, artificially restricting attention, ranking desirability with algorithms, and segmenting users into paid tiers. In this setup, intimacy and visibility are treated as commodities. Loneliness is also commodified—controlled through subscriptions, profile boosts, and algorithm adjustments. Rather than solving loneliness, these platforms exploit it for financial gain.
This commodification of intimate life is not an accidental result of technology but a direct outcome of decades of neoliberal reforms. The decline of stable jobs, rising housing prices, the breakdown of public spaces, and the fragmentation of social life have weakened the communal and workplace institutions where relationships traditionally developed. Dating apps serve to fill the void left by capitalist disintegration, yet they also intensify it.
Platforms tend to replicate and amplify existing social inequalities. Their algorithms prioritise users based on aesthetic, cultural, and class indicators that closely align with income, education, and consumption habits. This creates a stratified marketplace where a small minority garners most attention, while others struggle for visibility amid harsher competition. The concept of the “Alpha world,” often discussed in Femcel and incel communities, is not just a cultural fantasy; it reflects the ideological foundation of this market-driven mindset.
The mental health issues linked to using dating apps — including anxiety, loneliness, and resentment — are not personal flaws. They are the expected results of structuring intimate relationships around competition, self-promotion, and algorithm-driven choices. Despite this, academic and media narratives often view these problems as personal ailments instead of signs of a society in upheaval. The EU’s counter-radicalisation efforts take this further by framing the negative effects of commodified intimacy as possible security risks.
The truth is simpler and more politically explosive. The crisis of intimacy is a crisis of capitalism. The commodification of romantic life is inseparable from the commodification of everything else. A society that cannot provide stable employment, affordable housing, or meaningful community cannot provide the conditions for stable relationships. Dating apps do not repair this devastation; they monetise it.
The Gendered Crisis of Social Reproduction
To grasp the rise of Femcel discourse, it’s essential to look beyond platform speech and focus on the social reproductive crisis. Since the 1980s, young people in Europe and North America have experienced declining wages, rising housing costs, shrinking public spaces, the breakdown of stable workplaces and communities, and fragmented social and temporal lives. For young women, these issues have led to postponed or unfeasible household formation, increased competition in dating scenes, greater reliance on algorithm-driven platforms, and social isolation from stable networks.
Dating apps have transformed courtship from a personal pursuit into a market-driven activity. Visibility is now a product, algorithms rank desirability, and romantic opportunities are part of a competitive marketplace. The concept of the “Alpha world” in Femcel discussions is not just a cultural myth but a reflection of this market logic’s ideology. Femcel language isn’t a sign of pathology but a rational reaction to being excluded from a commodified form of intimacy. It acts as a social critique—though it may be nascent and contradictory—rooted in actual experiences. However, the counter-radicalisation perspective cannot see this because acknowledging it would mean admitting capitalism’s failure to foster stable social life.
Feminist Consciousness and the Limits of Security‑Compatible Critique
The study hints at a “transition… to feminist consciousness,” but only in a depoliticised, NGO-friendly way. The feminism accepted within a security framework is the safe type: focusing on individual empowerment, platform governance, and representation. The feminism that is excluded highlights women’s isolation in social reproduction crises, critiques the commodification of intimacy, and acknowledges that stable relationships depend on steady material conditions.
A truly materialist feminist outlook would critique the very structure of capitalist society. It would see the dating-app marketplace as a capitalist institution rather than just a cultural artefact. This perspective would acknowledge that the crisis of intimacy is tied to broader issues like work, housing, and community. If fully developed, it could lead to socialist reforms of social life. This is exactly the kind of awareness that counter-radicalisation efforts aim to suppress.
A truly social-rooted study of Femcel discourse would start by examining material conditions such as employment insecurity, housing instability, debt, the decline of public spaces, and the weakening of communal institutions. It would explore how algorithmic sorting worsens inequality, commodifies visibility, and stratifies desirability. The analysis would include how women cope with exclusion, how resentment stems from structural issues, and how online conversations reflect material realities. It would question whether alienation can transform into class consciousness, whether feminist criticism can evolve into anti-capitalism, and whether new solidarities can form. The Alava–Nagem paper cannot undertake this because its institutional role is to prevent such analysis.
Conclusion: The Ideological Function of Counter‑Radicalisation Research
The Femcel phenomenon illustrates a facet of capitalist social disintegration. The counter-radicalisation system reinterprets it as a security threat. This shift isn’t mere academic oversight but a deliberate ideological stance. The ruling elite, unable to confront the social ruin they caused, reframe these issues as individual mental health problems, crimes, or extremism. The Alava–Nagem study thus highlights not just its findings but what it exposes: the clash between a security-focused knowledge system and a social reality it struggles to comprehend. It’s a record of an apparatus compelled to classify and prevent, while avoiding questions about the root causes of the crisis.
Further Reading
A curated selection of works that illuminate the political economy of dating apps, the commodification of intimacy, the crisis of social reproduction, and the ideological function of counter‑radicalisation research. These texts provide historical depth, theoretical clarity, and empirical grounding for readers seeking to understand the broader social forces driving contemporary forms of isolation, romantic exclusion, and algorithmically mediated desire.
Political Economy of Dating Apps and Digital Intimacy
Kugelberg, Elsa. Dating Apps and the Digital Sexual Sphere.American Political Science Review 119, no. 4 (2025): 1761–1776. A major normative analysis of dating apps as corporate actors intervening in a core social institution — intimacy — with over 350 million yearly users. Essential for understanding dating apps as political institutions rather than neutral technologies.
Wilken, Rowan; Burgess, Jean; Albury, Kath. “Dating Apps and Data Markets: A Political Economy of Communication Approach.” Computational Culture 7 (2019). A foundational study of dating apps as data‑extraction industries, detailing how platforms monetise user behaviour, aggregate intimate data, and operate within global corporate structures.
Bergström, Marie. The New Laws of Love: Online Dating and the Privatisation of Intimacy. Polity Press, 2020. A sociological examination of how dating apps privatise courtship, individualise romantic life, and reshape the conditions under which relationships form.
Illouz, Eva. Cold Intimacies: The Making of Emotional Capitalism. Polity Press, 2007. A seminal work on how capitalist rationality reshapes emotional life, laying the groundwork for understanding dating apps as instruments of market discipline.
Illouz, Eva. Why Love Hurts: A Sociological Explanation. Polity Press, 2012. Explores how market logic and consumer culture restructure romantic expectations, producing new forms of emotional suffering.
Rosenfeld, Michael; Thomas, Reuben; Hausen, Sonia. “Disintermediating Your Friends: How Online Dating in the United States Displaced Other Ways of Meeting.” PNAS (2019). Empirical demonstration of dating apps’ dominance in partner‑finding and the decline of traditional social pathways to intimacy.
Social Reproduction, Neoliberalism, and the Material Roots of Isolation
Fraser, Nancy. Cannibal Capitalism. Verso, 2022. A powerful analysis of how capitalism devours the social foundations of life — including care, community, and intimacy.
Bhattacharya, Tithi (ed.). Social Reproduction Theory: Remapping Class, Recentering Oppression. Pluto Press, 2017. Essential for understanding how the crisis of social reproduction shapes intimate life, gendered experience, and the erosion of stable social institutions.
Hochschild, Arlie Russell. The Managed Heart. University of California Press, 1983. A classic study of emotional labour that prefigures the commodification of affect in digital dating markets.
Standing, Guy. The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class. Bloomsbury, 2011. Provides the socioeconomic backdrop for understanding why younger generations face unprecedented barriers to stable relationships and household formation.
Surveillance, Counter‑Radicalisation, and the Security State
Heath‑Kelly, Charlotte. The Politics of Prevent: Counter‑Terrorism and the Security State. Routledge, 2023. A definitive critique of the UK’s Prevent programme and its expansion into mass surveillance of youth, online behaviour, and political dissent.
Awan, Imran; Spiller, Keith; Whiting, Andrew. Terrorism in the Digital Age: The Emergence of Cyber Extremism. Palgrave Macmillan, 2019. Useful for understanding how security institutions frame online communities—including incels and Femcels—as potential vectors of extremism.
Zuboff, Shoshana. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism. PublicAffairs, 2019. A comprehensive analysis of how digital platforms extract behavioural data and reshape social life, directly relevant to dating‑app architectures.
WSWS Coverage of Prevent and Counter‑Radicalisation: Extensive reporting on the political function of Prevent, the criminalisation of dissent, and the use of “radicalisation” frameworks to police social distress. (Search WSWS archives for: Prevent, counter‑terrorism, surveillance, youth, online extremism.)
Incel and Femcel Discourse in Social Context
Ging, Debbie. “Alphas, Betas, and Incels: Theorising the Masculinities of the Manosphere.” Men and Masculinities (2019). A key text on incel ideology, useful for contrasting with Femcel discourse and understanding shared structural roots.
Maxwell, Clare; Aggleton, Peter. “Incel: A New Social Category?” Journal of Gender Studies (2022). Situates incel identity within broader social transformations, including precarity and atomisation.
WSWS Analyses of Incel Violence and Social Breakdown: Coverage emphasising the material roots of alienation, the collapse of social conditions for youth, and the ideological misuse of “radicalisation” narratives.
Marxist and Critical Theory Foundations
Marx, Karl. Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. Foundational for understanding alienation, commodification, and the reduction of human relations to market transactions.
Marx, Karl; Engels, Friedrich. The German Ideology. Essential for grasping how material conditions shape consciousness — including contemporary forms of romantic and sexual alienation.
Horkheimer, Max; Adorno, Theodor. Dialectic of Enlightenment. A classic critique of the culture industry, relevant to understanding dating apps as instruments of commodified desire.
Marcuse, Herbert. One‑Dimensional Man. Illuminates how capitalist rationality flattens human experience, including intimate life.
Sociological and Political‑Economic Context (Recommended for Further Reading)
Illouz, Eva. Cold Intimacies: The Making of Emotional Capitalism. A key text on how capitalist rationality reshapes intimate life.
Illouz, Eva. Why Love Hurts: A Sociological Explanation. Explores how market logic and consumer culture restructure romantic expectations and experiences.
Rosenfeld, Michael; Thomas, Reuben; Hausen, Sonia. “Disintermediating Your Friends: How Online Dating in the United States Displaced Other Ways of Meeting.” PNAS (2019). Empirical demonstration of dating apps’ dominance in partner‑finding.
Bergström, Marie. The New Laws of Love: Online Dating and the Privatisation of Intimacy. A sociological study of how dating apps privatise and individualise courtship.
WSWS Coverage of Social Breakdown, Surveillance, and Prevent
WSWS reporting on the UK’s Prevent programme and its expansion into mass surveillance of youth and online behaviour.
WSWS analyses of social atomisation, declining living standards, and the destruction of communal institutions under capitalism.
Jennifer Evans and Sara Read’s Maladies and Medicine: Exploring Health and Healing, 1540–1740 (Pen & Sword, 2017) appears, at first glance, as a concise social history of illness in early modern England. However, when viewed within a wider context of social reproduction and class formation of that era, the book reveals more: it offers insights into how bodies were regulated, how suffering was accepted as natural, and how the rise of capitalism transformed the conditions in which ordinary people lived, worked, and died.
Evans and Read do not aim to write a comprehensive history of class or the shift to capitalism. Instead, they use an empirical, descriptive approach organised around specific ailments rather than overarching arguments. The evidence they compile—such as casebooks, diaries, court records, household remedies, and cheap almanacks—provides valuable insights into how sickness operated within a society experiencing significant change. Their book inadvertently but effectively captures the medical aspect of the gradual decline of feudalism and the emergence of capitalist social relations.
The Humoral Body as a Social Body
The authors focus on the humoral body, viewed as a delicate balance of hot, cold, wet, and dry forces, constantly threatened by diet, weather, labour, and morality. This concept extends beyond medicine into a social worldview, making sense in a setting where most people lived on the brink of subsistence, faced endemic malnutrition, endured physically demanding work, and where environmental factors were linked to social class. Evans and Read interpret humoralism as a belief system, while a materialist perspective considers it a form of ideology.
Humoralism reframed structural suffering as personal imbalance, attributing disease to personal regimen, moral failure, or the mysterious flow of fluids rather than factors like enclosure, dispossession, or wage labour. This served an ideological purpose by naturalising the suffering created by the rise of capitalism.
The Medical Hierarchy and the Restructuring of Social Reproduction
The book’s strength lies in its detailed portrayal of the layered medical economy. It highlights university-trained physicians at the top, whose Latin education and guild privileges attracted wealthy clients. Below them, apothecaries and surgeons handled manual, often bloody treatments. Further down was a large informal sector of unlicensed healers—many women—whose inherited household knowledge served most of the population. Evans and Read describe this hierarchy, but within early modern social reproduction, it indicates a deeper underlying process.
Women were excluded from formal medical authority not just due to prejudice but as part of a broader process of knowledge enclosure. As capitalist relations grew, household and community-based care—largely performed by women—became subordinate to professional monopolies. This shift in the medical field reflected similar changes in reproductive labour, such as midwifery, childcare, food preparation, and sickness management, which became battlegrounds between traditional communal practices and emerging market influences. The ‘informal economy” of healing was not merely an outdated relic; it was the leftover of a pre-capitalist social reproduction system actively being dismantled by the new economic order.
Disease, Poverty, and the Making of a Proletariat
Evans and Read briefly mention that factors like poverty, overwork, and malnutrition influenced who became ill and who received treatment. However, they do not link these issues to the class relations of early modern England, which a materialist analysis would require. Between 1540 and 1740, England experienced significant social and economic changes, including the enclosure of common land, the dispossession of peasants, the rise of wage labour, increasing urban poverty, and the emergence of a landless proletariat.
These processes not only created new economic relationships but also established new physical conditions. “Bad diet” and “corrupt air” were not simply random misfortunes; they reflected the lived reality of class identity. The illnesses listed by Evans and Read—such as plague, smallpox, gout, toothache, and madness—were unevenly distributed based on property ownership and labour roles. The ailing body was inherently a body defined by class. Later, Engels would describe this as “social murder”: the deliberate, systemic creation of disease and early death through societal organisation. Evans and Read’s era can be seen as the groundwork for this concept—the period during which the foundations for social murder were established.
What the Book Offers—and What It Cannot Provide
As a compendium of lived experience, Maladies and Medicine is invaluable. Its prose is clear, its sources rich, and its case studies vivid. It allows the reader to encounter sickness in something close to its own terms.
But as an explanation of why early modern medicine took the form it did, the book is incomplete. It catalogues belief and practice but does not analyse the social relations that produced them. It describes the medical hierarchy but does not explain its connection to the restructuring of social reproduction. It notes poverty but does not treat it as a structural determinant of disease.
Where the book falls short is in its reluctance to press this material toward a fuller social explanation. Poverty, overwork, malnutrition, and environmental degradation appear in the narrative, but only as background conditions rather than as structuring forces. The authors note that “bad diet” and “corrupt air” shaped who fell ill and who could be treated. Still, they do not connect these phenomena to the concrete class relations of early modern England—the dispossession of the peasantry, the growth of wage labour, and the emergence. The text discusses how a landless proletariat lives on the brink of subsistence. It emphasises that the authors’ limitations are more about the academic division of labour than about their failure. The history of medicine is often viewed separately from class struggle, ignoring the interconnectedness of bodies and social structures. Maladies and Medicine offers a solid empirical base for a Marxist perspective on early modern social reproduction, illustrating how the shift to capitalism impacted not just work and courts but also kitchens, sickrooms, and individual bodies. It successfully recovers and documents these aspects but leaves broader explanatory questions about societal forces open for others.
Michael Crowley’s “Remember Me to My Comrades: Letters and Diaries of the International Brigade” (Barnthorn, £16.99) honours the approximately 2,500 British volunteers who fought in Spain from 1936 to 1938. It offers valuable insights as a recovery project, gathering letters, diaries, and memoirs from workers whose voices are often overlooked in official histories. However, as an analysis of the political forces influencing their fate—and ultimately betraying the Spanish Revolution—it is somewhat evasive, bordering on distortion.
Crowley observes that both the volunteers and the Comintern organisation that recruited them consistently framed Spain as a conflict against fascism rather than a civil war. It is undisputed that young workers like Kenneth Bradbury—from Oldham, who was already leading a Young Communist League branch at seventeen and died at Teruel in January 1938—saw their fight as part of a broader struggle against fascism internationally. However, Crowley declines to examine how the Stalinist leadership actually manipulated this understanding and systematically distorted it.
The book notes, almost as an aside, that between half and two-thirds of the battalion were members of the Communist Party or the YCL. Crowley views this as a mere sociological fact rather than a basis for in-depth political analysis. In fact, this detail is crucial to understanding Spain’s tragedy. These workers were mobilised not to advance the revolution, but to defend the Popular Front—an anti-revolutionary strategy enforced by Moscow that placed the working class under the control of the liberal bourgeoisie, even as workers had shown their potential to seize power.
In July 1936, workers in Barcelona and much of Catalonia successfully stopped the military uprising, took control of factories, collectivised land, and began building structures for workers’ self-management. Spain created exactly the situation Stalin feared most: an independent socialist revolution happening outside Soviet control. Stalin’s main aim in Spain was not to defeat Franco but to prevent a second October — a workers’ government revealing the conservative, nationalist nature of his own regime. His foreign policy relied on alliances with ‘democratic” bourgeois powers; a socialist revolution in Spain would have destroyed that approach.
Trotsky’s analysis here is crucial. Writing in the moment, he emphasised that Spain was more than just a civil war or a fight against fascism; it was a proletarian revolution. The workers demonstrated extraordinary heroism, yet heroism alone couldn’t replace the need for revolutionary leadership. Trotsky contended that the Popular Front was the main barrier to victory because it compelled the working class to defend a bourgeois system incapable of overcoming fascism. He noted that Franco didn’t defeat the Spanish proletariat, but by its own leadership.
The Popular Front was more than a tactical alliance; it was a strategic constraint aimed at dismantling the revolutionary momentum generated by the working class. Following directives from Moscow, the Communist Party targeted not only Franco but also the POUM and the anarchist militias, whose soldiers’ bravery in July had been crucial. The NKVD set up secret prisons, infiltrated the Republican police, and was involved in the disappearance of Andrés Nin. The May Days of 1937, when Communist-controlled forces attacked the Barcelona workers, marked a turning point. Ultimately, the revolution was halted by the Popular Front government, operating under Stalinist influence, rather than Franco. Crowley does not develop this analysis in detail.
The strongest material in the book — the letters and diaries — exposes the reality Crowley’s narrative avoids. Peter Kerrigan’s account of the retreat toward Gandesa, men going days without water, their shoes cut to pieces on the rocks, “many… literally barefoot as well as being in rags,” and Walter Gregory’s description of finding George Stockdale dying on the Ebro, a machine‑gun bullet having “cut a dreadful groove in his skull leaving his brain exposed,” speak with a clarity no editorial framing can soften. These passages reveal the human cost of the Comintern’s strategy. They indict the leadership more effectively than Crowley ever attempts.
Crowley dedicates a chapter to Harry Pollitt, celebrating his recruitment efforts and visits that boosted morale, while overlooking a crucial fact: this leadership, following Moscow’s directives, played a key role in suppressing the revolutionary alternative to Popular Frontism in Spain, most notably during the May Days of 1937. The chapter also covers George Orwell, whom the original review dismisses as undeserving of attention. This is actually the opposite of the truth. Despite Orwell’s later political changes, Homage to Catalonia is one of the few well-known accounts describing what truly happened to the POUM militias and Barcelona’s workers under the Stalinist-controlled security forces — a stark reality Crowley, like many others commemorating the event, deliberately avoids.
Crowley cannot explain why the Communist Party ostracised Orwell because doing so would mean admitting the Party’s role in suppressing the revolution. The CPGB’s hatred for Orwell was rooted in politics, not literature or personal reasons. Orwell had seen the crime the Party needed to hide: the outlawing of POUM, arrests and disappearances of its members, and the attack on the Barcelona working class by forces claiming to oppose Franco. Homage to Catalonia challenged the Popular Front’s narrative—that Spain’s conflict was merely between democracy and fascism—and exposed the Communist Party as the tool Moscow used to crush revolutionary hopes that arose in July 1936. As a result, Orwell was slandered, censored, and labelled as “objectively fascist.” Crowley’s reluctance to address this hostility reflects the same sanitising tendency that pervades the entire book.
Another crucial omission is decisive: the International Brigades were not purely expressions of independent working-class internationalism. Instead, they served as tools of the Popular Front strategy, aimed at channelling genuine anti-fascist sentiment into defending the bourgeois republic and diverting from the revolutionary potential that emerged in July 1936. While the volunteers’ anti-fascism was sincere, the Brigades’ primary purpose was to prevent revolution. Trotsky understood this well: their heroism was misdirected by leaders who prioritised maintaining bourgeois order over defeating Franco. Crowley fails to acknowledge this contradiction because doing so would force him to confront the political role of Stalinism, which he chooses to avoid.
Crowley notes that men who faced death at the front were unlikely to be intimidated by a foreman upon returning. This highlights the revolutionary potential among these workers — a potential that was wasted in Spain and again during the Second World War, as the fight against fascism and the necessary programme to defeat it was fought globally. The courage shown here is genuine and worth remembering. However, a history that separates this bravery from the bureaucratic betrayal that led to the fall of the Spanish Revolution ultimately results in a moving story of martyrdom rather than an analysis of why the Spanish working class was defeated.
Sources and Bibliography
Primary Sources
George Orwell, Homage to Catalonia. London: Secker & Warburg, 1938. First‑hand account of the POUM militias, the May Days, and Stalinist repression in Barcelona.
Leon Trotsky, The Spanish Revolution (1931–39). New York: Pathfinder Press, 1973. Collection of Trotsky’s writings on Spain, including analyses of the Popular Front, the POUM, and Stalin’s foreign policy.
Andrés Nin, Selected Writings. Various editions. Documents the POUM’s political positions before his disappearance at the hands of the NKVD.
International Brigades Letters and Diaries (various collections). Including materials reproduced in Crowley’s Remember Me to My Comrades.
Peter Kerrigan, The International Brigade: Spain 1936–1939. Memoir of a CPGB cadre and Brigade commissar.
Walter Gregory, The Shallow Grave: A Memoir of the Spanish Civil War. London: Faber & Faber, 1986. Eyewitness testimony from a British volunteer.
Soviet and Comintern Documents
Comintern Archives, RGASPI (Russian State Archive of Social and Political History). Includes directives to the Spanish Communist Party, reports on the POUM, and NKVD operations.
NKVD Reports on Spain (1936–1938), published in various scholarly editions. Documentation of arrests, interrogations, and the disappearance of Andrés Nin.
Trotskyist Analyses
Pierre Broué, The Spanish Revolution, 1936–1939. Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2006. The most comprehensive Trotskyist history of the revolution and its suppression.
Felix Morrow, Revolution and Counter‑Revolution in Spain. New York: Pathfinder Press, 1974. A contemporary Trotskyist analysis written during the war.
Burnett Bolloten, The Spanish Civil War: Revolution and Counterrevolution. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991. A monumental study documenting Stalinist repression and the destruction of the revolution.
Marxist and Critical Histories
Paul Preston, The Spanish Civil War: Reaction, Revolution and Revenge. London: HarperCollins, 2006. Standard academic account; useful for chronology, though politically limited.
Helen Graham, The Spanish Republic at War, 1936–1939. Cambridge University Press, 2002. Important for institutional and social history of the Republic.
Antony Beevor, The Battle for Spain. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2006. Conventional narrative history; valuable for military detail.
Franz Borkenau, The Spanish Cockpit. London: Faber & Faber, 1937. Early eyewitness account sympathetic to the revolution.
Anarchist and POUM Sources
Abel Paz, Durruti in the Spanish Revolution. Oakland: AK Press, 2007. Biography of the anarchist leader; essential for understanding CNT‑FAI rank‑and‑file militancy.
Julián Casanova, Anarchism, the Republic and Civil War in Spain. London: Routledge, 2010. Scholarly treatment of anarchist politics and social base.
Wilebaldo Solano, The Spanish Revolution: The POUM and the Struggle for Power. POUM perspective on the revolution and its suppression.
Studies of Stalinism and the Popular Front
E.H. Carr, The Comintern and the Spanish Civil War. London: Macmillan, 1984. Detailed study of Soviet policy and Comintern strategy.
Ronald Radosh, Mary Habeck & Grigory Sevostianov, Spain Betrayed: The Soviet Union in the Spanish Civil War. Yale University Press, 2001. Uses Soviet archival material to document NKVD operations and Stalinist intervention.
Stanley Payne, The Collapse of the Spanish Republic. Yale University Press, 2006. Conservative but useful for institutional analysis of the Popular Front.
Biographies and Memoirs Relevant to Stalinist Policy
Isaac Deutscher, The Prophet Outcast. Oxford University Press, 1963. Trotsky’s biography; includes analysis of Trotsky’s writings on Spain.
Alexander Orlov, The Secret History of Stalin’s Crimes. Memoir of the NKVD officer in Spain; controversial but revealing.
For Contextualising Orwell and the CPGB
John Newsinger, Orwell’s Politics. London: Macmillan, 1999. Explores Orwell’s anti‑Stalinism and the CPGB’s hostility toward him.
Christopher Hill, The CPGB and the Popular Front. Essays on the British Communist Party’s alignment with Moscow’s line.
Archival Collections
Marxists Internet Archive (MIA): Trotsky’s writings on Spain, POUM documents, CNT manifestos, and contemporary analyses.
Tamiment Library (NYU) International Brigades papers, CPUSA materials, and Comintern correspondence.
William Cheatham’s story—a Bolton weaver, army veteran, and Peterloo Massacre victim—significantly enhances our understanding of history. It reintroduces a working-class figure whose experience highlights key societal dynamics of that era. Cheatham was not merely a passive victim of government violence; he was a politically aware worker who travelled to Manchester to advocate for parliamentary reform. He survived a sabre attack by a yeomanry cavalryman over a mile from St Peter’s Field and dedicated years to seeking justice via courts and Parliament. His failure was not random but rooted in structural factors.
Cheatham’s story reflects a common pattern among contemporary radicals and modern Marxist historians: rather than remorse or reform following Peterloo, the British ruling class engaged in repression, intimidation, and history rewriting. The significance of Cheatham’s case lies not in its novelty but in its clarity, exemplifying the capitalist state’s response to working-class activism.
The current depiction of Cheatham’s story — linking it to ongoing debates about democracy, protest rights, and challenging entrenched power — illustrates a liberal viewpoint that obscures the class implications of Peterloo. The aim is not merely to restore Cheatham’s biography but to uncover its deeper significance beyond the ideological stories that have historically tried to soften Peterloo.
Peterloo and the Machinery of Bourgeois Repression
The aftermath of Peterloo is a revealing episode in British history. The ruling class responded with a consistent strategy: Medical denial and coercion. Waterloo veteran John Lees died from his injuries three weeks later, while James Lees, wounded by two sabre cuts, was denied treatment unless he disavowed political meetings. Judicial obstruction was evident when Margaret Goodwin’s civil case against neighbour Thomas Shelmerdine was dismissed without thorough review. Weavers injured in the incident, who sued Hugh Hornby Birley and others, were told their attackers acted “justifiably.” The radical Manchester Observer, which exposed the massacre, faced prosecution and harassment, leading to its destruction. Additionally, Manchester’s official plaque labelled Peterloo a “dispersal” for decades, deliberately omitting any mention of the dead.
Cheatham’s case belongs squarely within this pattern. He identified his attacker, Edward Meagher. He pursued him through the courts. He secured a parliamentary hearing. He gathered witnesses. And he lost. The state closed ranks. The yeomanry were protected. The working-class victim was defeated.
This is not a story about the failure of individual courage or the imperfections of early nineteenth-century justice. It is a demonstration of the structural function of the capitalist state: to defend the interests and agents of the ruling class against the political demands of the working class.
Liberal Heritage and the Sanitisation of Class Struggle
Today’s portrayal of Cheatham’s story—via genealogy sites, BBC heritage media, and the rhetoric of “democracy”—is inherently political. It continues a long tradition of liberal co-optation of Peterloo. The founding of the Manchester Guardian in 1821 exemplifies this trend. Created by cotton manufacturer John Edward Taylor after the Manchester Observer was destroyed, the Guardian aimed to divert working-class democratic fervour into bourgeois reform efforts. Its promise to “warmly advocate the cause of Reform” was quickly seen as a tactic to capture and disarm working-class radicalism. George Condy’s 1836 description of the Guardian as the “foul prostitute and dirty parasite of the worst portion of the mill-owners” was not mere hyperbole; it reflected class analysis.
The 2019 bicentenary commemorations continued this tradition. The Guardian positioned itself as Peterloo’s successor. Manchester City Council unveiled Jeremy Deller’s memorial quietly, concerned about the political consequences of an open memorial. Even Labour’s language — referencing Peterloo as a moral foundation for parliamentary reform — echoed the same liberal framing that Engels critiqued in 1846. The liberal approach to history reinterprets Peterloo as a heritage event instead of a clash between classes. It shifts focus from working-class agency to sentimental stories of “ordinary people.” It replaces discussions of rights with themes of class struggle. Additionally, it depicts the capitalist state as misguided rather than inherently violent. Cheatham’s account, viewed through this lens, becomes a sombre reflection on the slow advancement of democracy rather than a lesson about the futility of justice within bourgeois institutions.
Engels and the Historical Logic of Cheatham’s Defeat
Cheatham’s story notably confirms Engels’s analysis of the era. In The Condition of the Working Class in England and his 1846 letters, Engels argued that the core dynamic of early 19th-century politics was that the “essentially democratic movement of the working classes was more or less made subservient to the liberal movement of the bourgeoisie.”
Engels pointed out that the working class had yet to fully understand the crucial difference between liberalism and democracy — specifically, the distinction between the emancipation of the middle classes and that of the working classes. Cheatham’s extensive efforts over a decade to seek justice through courts, magistrates, and Parliament serve as a condensed example of this broader historical process. He believed that the bourgeois state’s institutions could ensure justice, thinking evidence, testimony, and parliamentary appeals could challenge class power. His defeat was not personal but structural, reflecting the unavoidable outcome of a political system meant to safeguard the interests of the ruling class.
Cheatham’s story is therefore not a tragedy of failed reform. It is a lesson in the necessity of working-class independence from bourgeois institutions.
Memory, Class, and the Struggle Over Peterloo
The dispute over Peterloo’s memory is a battleground of class conflict. The ruling class has consistently tried to tame the event—turning it from a massacre into a mere ‘dispersal,” from a clash of classes into a symbol of democracy, and from a call to action into a heritage tour. In contrast, working-class remembrance has always challenged this distortion. John Wrigley, interviewed fifty years after Peterloo, expressed the true significance of the event: “Never forget, lad! Let it sink in your blood. Stand up and fight for human rights — the rights of poor folk!”
This is not the language of liberal reform; it is the language of class struggle. Cheatham’s story belongs to the political tradition of working-class struggle, which his biography underscores. Reclaiming Cheatham’s biography is valuable, but only if its significance is pulled from liberal narratives and restored to the tradition of working-class political activism.
Conclusion: What Cheatham Teaches Us
Cheatham’s story reveals little about the “enduring questions of democracy’ and instead highlights the persistent reality of class power. It vividly illustrates how the capitalist state reacts when working people seek accountability from its armed forces, showing why the working class cannot depend on courts, magistrates, or Parliament for justice. The story supports Engels’s analysis of the era and uncovers the ideological role of liberal historical narratives. Its significance lies not in sentiment but in political clarity, reminding us that Peterloo was not merely a reform tragedy but a clash between the working class and the capitalist state—an ongoing conflict with vital lessons.
Bibliography and Sources
Primary Sources
Engels, Friedrich.The Condition of the Working Class in England. Leipzig, 1845. Foundational Marxist analysis of early industrial capitalism; Engels’ discussion of the political subordination of the working class to bourgeois liberalism is directly relevant to Peterloo.
Engels, Friedrich.The Principles of Communism. 1847. Contains Engels’ reflections on the development of working-class political consciousness.
Hunt, Henry.The Trial of Henry Hunt and Others for the Peterloo Massacre. London, 1820. Contemporary documentation of the legal aftermath and the state’s efforts to justify repression.
Manchester Observer (1819–1821). Radical newspaper that exposed the massacre; its destruction by state repression is central to understanding the political climate.
Parliamentary Papers, House of Commons Debates (Hansard), 1819–1825. Includes petitions, debates, and references to cases brought by Peterloo victims, including Cheatham’s parliamentary appeal.
Wrigley, John. Interview in The Manchester Guardian, 1869. Contains the famous working-class testimony: “Never forget, lad! Let it sink in your blood…”
Contemporary Radical Accounts
Carlile, Richard.Account of the Manchester Massacre. London, 1819. Eyewitness testimony and radical analysis of the event.
Knight, Henry.The Political and Social Condition of Manchester. Manchester, 1820. Radical critique of the magistracy and yeomanry.
Modern Scholarship on Peterloo
Read, Donald.Peterloo: The Massacre and Its Background. Manchester University Press, 1958. Classic scholarly account; still valuable for its archival depth.
Poole, Robert.Peterloo: The English Uprising. Oxford University Press, 2019. The most comprehensive modern study; essential for contextualising Cheatham’s experience.
Poole, Robert. “The Manchester Observer and the Making of Peterloo.” Manchester Region History Review 23 (2012). Detailed analysis of the radical press and state repression.
Bush, M. L.The Casualties of Peterloo. Carnegie Publishing, 2005. Systematic catalogue of victims; provides context for Cheatham’s injuries and legal struggle.
Bush, M. L. “The Aftermath of Peterloo.” Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society 103 (2007). Examines the judicial and political consequences of the massacre.
Thompson, E. P.The Making of the English Working Class. Victor Gollancz, 1963. Essential Marxist historiography; situates Peterloo within the broader formation of working-class consciousness.
Hammond, J. L. & Hammond, Barbara.The Town Labourer 1760–1832. Longmans, Green & Co., 1917. Classic social history of early industrial workers; includes discussion of political radicalism.
Marxist Analyses and Socialist Scholarship
Bond, Paul. “200 Years Since the Peterloo Massacre.” World Socialist Web Site, 16 August 2019. Detailed Marxist analysis of the massacre, its aftermath, and the liberal appropriation of its memory.
North, David.The Russian Revolution and the Unfinished Twentieth Century. Mehring Books, 2014. Provides theoretical context on state violence and bourgeois democracy.
Trotsky, Leon.History of the Russian Revolution. 1930. Not directly about Peterloo, but foundational for understanding the Marxist theory of the state and class repression.
Marx, Karl.The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte. 1852. Essential for understanding how bourgeois institutions function to suppress working-class political agency.
Historiography of the Liberal Press and the Guardian
Ayerst, David.The Guardian: Biography of a Newspaper. Cornell University Press, 1971. Includes detailed discussion of the paper’s founding in the aftermath of Peterloo.
Williams, Raymond.Keywords. Oxford University Press, 1976. Useful for analysing the ideological language of “reform,” “democracy,” and “rights.”
Jones, Aled. “Press, Politics and Society: The Guardian and Liberalism.” Journal of British Studies 32 (1993). Scholarly analysis of the Guardian’s political role in the nineteenth century.
State Violence, Class Repression, and Political Theory
Hobsbawm, Eric.The Age of Revolution: 1789–1848. Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1962. Situates Peterloo within the broader revolutionary and counter-revolutionary dynamics of the period.
Hobsbawm, Eric.Labouring Men. Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1964. Essays on working-class politics and state repression.
Linebaugh, Peter & Rediker, Marcus.The Many-Headed Hydra. Beacon Press, 2000. Explores the long history of proletarian resistance and state violence.
Stedman Jones, Gareth.Languages of Class. Cambridge University Press, 1983. Important for understanding how political discourse shapes class consciousness.
Genealogy, Heritage Media, and Liberal Memory Culture
Samuel, Raphael.Theatres of Memory. Verso, 1994. Foundational critique of heritage culture and liberal historical memory.
Porter, Bernard.The Absent-Minded Imperialists. Oxford University Press, 2004. Useful for analysing the ideological framing of British history in contemporary media.
Olusoga, David.Black and British: A Forgotten History. Macmillan, 2016. Representative of the contemporary BBC mode of identity-centred historical narrative.
Archival and Local History Resources
Greater Manchester Archives and Local Studies holds extensive Peterloo-related material, including casualty lists, magistrates’ papers, and local press.
National Archives (Kew) HO 42 and HO 44 series contain Home Office correspondence on Peterloo and subsequent prosecutions.
Bolton Archives Potentially relevant for Cheatham’s background, military service, and local radical networks.
Optional: Further Reading for Marxist Context
Lukács, Georg.History and Class Consciousness. 1923. Theoretical grounding for understanding how events like Peterloo shape proletarian consciousness.
Anderson, Perry.Arguments Within English Marxism. Verso, 1980. Useful for situating Thompson, Hobsbawm, and the Marxist historiographical tradition.
Although ‘Maids, Wives, Widows’ is well-researched and detailed, it has a significant flaw that exemplifies a common issue in modern social history. Read’s work offers “a social history without society” — not just a rhetorical critique but an accurate critique of its core problem. This flaw is not due to poor archival research or storytelling- none of which are contained in the book but results from a conceptual approach. The book’s main categories, based on legal marital statuses, are treated as social categories, leading to a descriptive account of women’s daily lives that overlooks the social structures shaping those lives. This critique is expanded here, situating it within Marxist social history, feminist theory, and studies of early modern England. It argues that the methodological choices reflect a broader trend in contemporary social history: favouring thematic descriptions over structural explanations, which diminishes the importance of class as the primary influence on lived experiences.
The Taxonomic Fallacy: Legal Status as Social Category
Maids, Wives, Widows incorrectly treat marital status—such as maid, wife, or widow—as a single, cohesive subject of historical analysis. These labels are legal classifications established by common law and church courts, designed to categorise for legal purposes, rather than capturing the complex lived experiences of women in early modern England. Viewing “wife” solely as a social category results in the taxonomic fallacy: the false assumption that legal definitions perfectly align with social realities.
This fallacy has serious implications. The wife of a yeoman farmer facing enclosure, the wife of a London merchant from Atlantic trade wealth, and the wife of a landless labourer who lost her smallholding generations ago all share the same legal label. However, their social realities differed greatly. Their access to food, labour, property, and political power was determined by their class, not marital status. As E.P. Thompson pointed out, “class is not a thing, but a relationship” (Thompson, 1963). In early modern England, these relationships were rooted in property, labour, and exploitation, not solely in marriage categories. By framing the narrative around legal status, the book neglects the societal structures that shaped whether a wife ate well, poorly, or at all. Moving from legal labels to daily life—like “what wives wore” or “what wives ate”—limits the potential for social explanations.
The Civil War as Methodological Stress Test
The book’s approach to the Civil War era highlights a fundamental methodological weakness. The emergence of women in public and political spheres during the 1640s and 1650s should not be seen as a mere exception to domestic life but as a consequence of a revolutionary crisis. During this period, the usual social controls—the monarchy, the church, and parish hierarchies—were temporarily challenged. Women participated by preaching, petitioning Parliament, and supporting groups like the Levellers and Diggers, not because they inherently held political potential, but because the class struggle intensified and involved previously marginalised groups. As Hill (1972) and Reay (1998) illustrate, the radical movements of the 1640s were driven by grievances from small producers, artisans, and labourers whose economic stability was threatened by the rise of state and oligarchic power.
The Leveller women who petitioned in 1649 did so explicitly as wives of imprisoned radicals, connecting their call for their husbands’ release to the larger democratic goals of the movement. Their political stance cannot be fully explained through a focus on “women’s experience” or “the domestic sphere.” Instead, it must be understood within the context of the revolutionary crisis facing the English state and the class tensions it provoked.
The Missing Element: A Theory of Social Determination
The detailed descriptions of women’s clothing, eating habits, and experiences in the book do not replace the need for a social theory that explains how societal forces shape these facts. Without such a framework, everyday life seems like a collection of isolated details, disconnected from the broader social structures that give them historical context. Important questions are left unaddressed: Why did labouring women have different diets than merchant women? Why did some women earn wages while others managed servants? Why was maternal mortality closely linked to social class? Why did some women participate in political movements while others were confined to household chores?
These questions are not just additional; they are essential for understanding daily life historically. As Joan Scott (1986) pointed out, gender is a meaningful analytical category only when viewed as part of a relational system intertwined with economic and political frameworks. A history that considers gender in isolation, separate from class, fails to account for the development of women’s lives.
The Marxist Tradition: Family, Gender, and the Mode of Production
The Marxist view has consistently argued that family, gender roles, and domestic life are not independent spheres but are shaped by the mode of production and underlying class relations. Engels’ book, “The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State” (1884), explicitly states that the monogamous family and women’s legal subjugation emerged alongside private property and class society. Furthermore, the specific ways in which women are oppressed have changed throughout history, corresponding to shifts in the economic foundation.
Early modern England was a society in flux, marked by the rise of agrarian capitalism, expanding Atlantic trade, strengthening state authority, and new types of wage labour. These changes altered family dynamics, gender roles, and domestic life. Viewing “women’s experience” over two centuries as a uniform narrative distinguished only by marital status overlooks the complex forces shaping those experiences.
The critique of Maids, Wives, Widows—that it provides “a social history without society”—extends beyond a single book, representing a wider methodological shift in contemporary historiography. Its dependence on legal categories as social indicators, a focus on descriptive cataloguing, and neglect of structural factors shaping daily life illustrate a tendency Raphael Samuel pinpointed in late social history: replacing thematic description with comprehensive historical explanation.
Samuel’s work, particularly Theatres of Memory, provides a compelling perspective for understanding this shift. He emphasises that history is a “social form of knowledge” and argues that historians should pay attention to the lived experiences of everyday people. This does not mean abandoning structure; rather, Samuel’s early Marxist views—seen in works like The Lost World of Communism, Village Life and Labour, and his essays for New Left Review—are based on the belief that lived experience is influenced by class relations, economic systems, and the mode of production.
Samuel’s insights suggest that ‘Maids, Wives, Widows’ exemplifies a type of social history that has lost touch with social context. It documents women’s lives but fails to explain them; it details daily routines but does not connect them to the power, exploitation, and class structures that influence these routines. This highlights the shortcomings of a historiography that has forgotten its Marxist roots.
Raphael Samuel and the Problem of Social Description
Samuel’s work is often misunderstood as merely celebrating the fragmentary, anecdotal, and everyday aspects of life. His interest in memory, folklore, and popular traditions has led some historians to view him as a champion of descriptive social history. However, this is a significant misinterpretation. Samuel’s detailed observations were always rooted in a structural analysis of class, labour, and social relations. In “Village Life and Labour,” he emphasised that “the texture of daily life is inseparable from the organisation of labour” (Samuel, 1975). His thorough descriptions of rural customs, domestic routines, and communal activities were never just for their own sake; they offered insights into the social relations of production that shaped those customs. The “everyday” was not simply a thematic focus but a space where class relations were experienced, challenged, and maintained.
This is precisely what is missing from Maids, Wives, Widows. The book offers a wealth of detail—what women wore, what they ate, how they died—but it lacks the structural analysis that would make those details historically intelligible. It treats daily life as an autonomous sphere, detached from the economic and political forces that shaped it. In doing so, it reproduces what Samuel warned against: a social history that mistakes description for explanation.
The Taxonomic Fallacy and the Erasure of Class
Samuel’s Marxist beliefs were rooted in the idea that class is a relationship, not just a category. Writing social history without addressing class is like ignoring society itself. Maids, Wives, Widows makes this mistake by viewing marital status—maid, wife, widow—as a single object of study. These categories are legal constructs created by the common law and church courts, reflecting the state’s classification needs rather than the actual experiences of women in early modern England. Samuel would have recognised this immediately. In his essay “Class and Community,” he argued that legal and administrative labels often obscure the true social relations that influence experiences (Samuel, 1969). Viewing “wife” as a single social category ignores important distinctions such as property, labour, exploitation, and access to resources.
The wives of a yeoman farmer facing enclosure, a London merchant benefiting from Atlantic trade, and a landless labourer all shared the same legal label. However, they lived in vastly different worlds of need and opportunity. Their daily experiences cannot be fully grasped solely by their marital status but must be understood through their class.
The Civil War: A Test Case for Marxist Method
Samuel’s analysis of popular politics during the English Revolution highlighted the importance of class struggle in shaping political actions. In “The Lost World of Communism” and his essays on the Levellers, he suggested that revolutionary periods expose the fundamental societal structures by disrupting them. The rise of women participating publicly in the 1640s and 1650s was not merely a vibrant episode of “female agency.” Instead, it resulted from a revolutionary crisis where the monarchy, church, and parish authorities were temporarily set aside. Women preached, petitioned, and organised not because early modern womanhood inherently included political elements, but because the intensifying class struggle drew new social layers into political engagement.
The Leveller women who petitioned in 1649 did so explicitly as the wives of imprisoned radicals, linking their demands to the broader democratic movement. Samuel would argue that their political actions cannot be understood through a framework based solely on “women’s experience.” Instead, it requires one centred on the dynamics of revolutionary crisis and the class forces it unleashed. The categories “Maids, Wives, Widows” are insufficient because their method cannot capture this. A history focused on legal classifications and domestic routines can only describe political action, not explain it.
Marxist Historiography and the Question of Social Determination
Samuel’s early Marxist approach was based on the belief that the mode of production influences daily life. This was not an economic reduction but a dialectical view of how social relations shape experience. Following Engels, who in The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State argued that property relations and class structure historically determine family and gender roles, Samuel emphasised these connections. During early modern England, key changes such as agrarian capitalism, Atlantic trade, state development, and the rise of wage labour significantly altered family, gender, and domestic relations. Viewing “women’s experience” over two centuries as a single continuum, merely differentiated by marital status, overlooks the powerful forces shaping those experiences. Samuel’s method—detailed description grounded in structural analysis—corrects this perspective. Maids, Wives, Widows provides vivid descriptions without the structural framework.
Antiquarianism vs Social History: Samuel’s Warning
Samuel consistently cautioned against the trend towards antiquarianism in social history, which involves gathering facts, anecdotes, and curiosities without connecting them to broader social forces. Antiquarianism is about cataloguing, while social history seeks to explain. “Maids, Wives, Widows” serves as a catalogue, offering valuable primary-source material but lacking a theoretical framework to give those materials deeper meaning. It describes how women spent their days but does not explore who influenced or controlled that behaviour—essentially, it overlooks questions of power, exploitation, and class. These are the questions that differentiate social history from mere cataloguing. Samuel recognised this distinction, but modern social history has since forgotten it.
Conclusion
Integrating Raphael Samuel’s insights with a Marxist critique of Maids, Wives, Widows reveals a broader historiographical problem: the retreat from social determination, the erasure of class, and the substitution of descriptive catalogue for historical explanation. Samuel’s work offers both a model and a warning. His descriptive richness was always anchored in structural analysis. His attention to lived experience was always grounded in class relations. His Marxism was not a theoretical overlay but the foundation of his method.
Maids, Wives, Widows is not just a critique of a single book but highlights a shift in modern social history methodologies. The errors such as the taxonomic fallacy, ignoring class, lack of social context, and reliance on mere description are symptoms of a wider historiographical trend. A social history that ignores society itself is incomplete; it just catalogues facts without interpretation. Reclaiming social history’s explanatory power requires returning to the Marxist understanding that daily life is influenced primarily by the mode of production and class relations, not just legal or thematic categories. Only through this perspective can the experiences of early modern women—and all historical figures—be fully understood in their historical complexity.
Apology Statement
I want to offer a sincere apology to Pen and Sword Publishers, and especially to Dr Sara Read, for the long delay in producing this review. The book has been in my hands far longer than I intended, and I regret not giving it the timely attention it deserved. I am particularly grateful to Sara Read for taking the time to send a personal note wishing me happy reading; her courtesy makes my delay all the more embarrassing. I will do my best to prevent this from happening again.
Sources and Bibliography
I. Marxist Historiography & Theory
Engels, Friedrich. The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State. Classic Marxist analysis linking the emergence of the monogamous family to private property and class society. Essential for grounding gender relations in the mode of production.
Marx, Karl. Capital, Vol. I. Foundational for understanding class relations, exploitation, and the economic structures shaping daily life.
Marx, Karl. The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte. A key text on how political crises reveal underlying class structures—useful for interpreting the English Civil War.
Thompson, E.P. The Making of the English Working Class. London: Gollancz, 1963. Seminal work demonstrating class as a historical relationship rather than a static category.
Thompson, E.P. “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd.” Past & Present 50 (1971): 76–136. Shows how popular economic structures and collective expectations shape action.
Hobsbawm, Eric. Labouring Men: Studies in the History of Labour. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1964. Marxist social history with emphasis on class formation and labour relations.
II. Raphael Samuel & the History Workshop Tradition
Samuel, Raphael. Village Life and Labour. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975. Demonstrates Samuel’s method: rich description anchored in structural analysis of labour and class.
Samuel, Raphael. Theatres of Memory. London: Verso, 1994. Often misread as anti-theoretical; in fact, a meditation on how lived experience intersects with social structure.
Samuel, Raphael. “Class and Community.” New Left Review 1/45 (1967). Crucial for understanding Samuel’s critique of administrative categories and his insistence on class as lived relationship.
Samuel, Raphael. The Lost World of Communism. London: Verso, 1986. Shows Samuel’s continued commitment to Marxist analysis even in his later work.
Joyce, Patrick. “The End of Social History?” Social History 20, no. 1 (1995): 73–91. A key text for situating Samuel within debates about the fragmentation of social history.
Rose, Sonya. “Cultural Analysis and Moral Discourses: The Legacy of Raphael Samuel.” History Workshop Journal 62 (2006): 1–15. Explores Samuel’s influence and the tension between cultural history and Marxist social history.
III. Women, Gender, and Early Modern England
Mendelson, Sara & Crawford, Patricia. Women in Early Modern England, 1550–1720. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998. The most comprehensive social history of early modern women; essential for contextual detail.
Sharpe, J.A. Early Modern England: A Social History 1550–1760. London: Arnold, 1987. Provides structural context for gender, household, and labour.
Wiesner-Hanks, Merry. Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Useful for comparative context and theoretical framing.
Scott, Joan. “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis.” American Historical Review 91, no. 5 (1986): 1053–1075. Foundational for understanding gender as a relational and structural category, not a descriptive one.
Foyster, Elizabeth. Manhood in Early Modern England. London: Routledge, 1999. Helps situate gender relations within broader social structures.
IV. The English Revolution, Radical Movements, and Women’s Political Action
Hill, Christopher. The World Turned Upside Down: Radical Ideas During the English Revolution. London: Penguin, 1972. Essential Marxist interpretation of the Civil War and radical movements.
Hill, Christopher. The English Revolution 1640. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1940. Classic Marxist framing of the Civil War as a bourgeois revolution.
Underdown, David. Revel, Riot and Rebellion: Popular Politics and Culture in England 1603–1660. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985. Shows how popular politics intersected with class and gender.
Reay, Barry. Popular Cultures in England, 1550–1750. London: Routledge, 1998. Useful for understanding plebeian culture and political mobilisation.
Stoyle, Mark. Soldiers and Strangers: An Ethnic History of the English Civil War. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005. Provides structural context for the breakdown of social order during the Civil War.
Purkiss, Diane. The English Civil War: A People’s History. London: HarperCollins, 2006. Includes women’s voices but can be contrasted with Marxist interpretations.
The Leveller Women’s Petition (May 1649). Primary source demonstrating women’s political action grounded in class struggle and movement solidarity.
V. Social Structure, Class, and Daily Life in Early Modern England
Wrightson, Keith. Earthly Necessities: Economic Lives in Early Modern Britain. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. A structural account of economic life—excellent for grounding class analysis.
Wrightson, Keith & Levine, David. Poverty and Piety in an English Village: Terling, 1525–1700. New York: Academic Press, 1979. A model of microhistory with structural analysis.
Laslett, Peter. The World We Have Lost. London: Methuen, 1965. Classic on household structure; useful but must be read critically from a Marxist perspective.
Amussen, Susan. An Ordered Society: Gender and Class in Early Modern England. Oxford: Blackwell, 1988. One of the few works explicitly linking gender and class.
VI. Methodology, Social Determination, and Historiographical Debate
Burke, Peter. What is Cultural History? Cambridge: Polity, 2004. Useful for situating the drift away from structural analysis.
Joyce, Patrick. Democratic Subjects: The Self and the Social in Nineteenth-Century England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Illustrates the shift toward culturalism that Samuel resisted.
Callinicos, Alex. Making History: Agency, Structure, and Change in Social Theory. Leiden: Brill, 2004. A rigorous Marxist defence of structural explanation.
VII. Primary Sources (Early Modern England)
The Records of the Old Bailey (online). For women’s labour, crime, and social position.
Parish Registers (various counties). For demographic and household reconstruction.
State Papers Domestic (SP 16–29). For petitions, proclamations, and administrative categories.
Pip: Cambridge University has, once again, demonstrated its unerring instinct for self-preservation — freerein61's latest piece on A Trumpet of Sedition makes sure we notice exactly what that costs.
Mara: The episode covers one major case: the compelled resignation of Professor Jason Arday from Cambridge, and what it reveals about universities, identity politics, the far right, and class power. Let's start with the affair itself and the crisis it exposes.
The Jason Arday Affair: Universities, Identity, and Class
Pip: The central tension here is a familiar one dressed in new clothes — an institution celebrates a symbolic appointment, then abandons the symbol the moment defending it becomes expensive. The question the post forces is: what does that pattern actually tell us about how universities work?
Mara: The post is direct about the political logic driving the attack. Nathan Cofnas launched it, and his writing is rooted in scientific racism and eugenics. The post quotes Christopher Rufo, who ran the parallel campaign against Harvard's Claudine Gay, describing plagiarism accusations as a "weapon of war."
Pip: So the tool is plagiarism, but the project is something larger — remaking the ideological landscape of institutions that the far right sees as hostile territory.
Mara: Exactly, and the post draws the Harvard parallel in detail. In both cases a symbolic figure elevated through identity-politics discourse was targeted. Initial ideological attacks failed. Plagiarism allegations followed. The institution defended, then capitulated. The post calls this pattern deliberate — a coordinated effort to suppress intellectual activity and shift universities toward authoritarian and nationalist agendas.
Pip: Cambridge's first move was to condemn the campaign against Arday as a "vile" one — which sounds principled until you read what came next.
Mara: The post is precise on this. Cambridge's initial defence was not principle; it was institutional reflex. The post argues elite universities operate by three priorities: protecting prestige, avoiding political exposure that threatens donors or government relationships, and projecting moral leadership without structural reform. Once defending Arday cost more than celebrating him, Cambridge withdrew.
Pip: Identity politics as institutional branding — which is a fine strategy right up until the brand becomes a liability.
Mara: The post pushes further than that critique. It argues identity politics functions as a mechanism of class rule: deflecting demands for real redistribution into symbolic representation, containing calls for equality within manageable gestures, and fragmenting the working class along racialised lines. Arday was Cambridge's "youngest ever black professor" — the framing was about branding, not structural change.
Mara: Working-class students, regardless of race, remain excluded by cost. Academic staff face casualisation and low pay. The university's social role, the post argues, has not shifted.
Pip: Symbolic elevation, the post notes, also produces symbolic vulnerability — institutions that promote people on PR logic cannot mount a class-based defence when the far right attacks, because they do not operate on class principles.
Mara: The post's conclusion is that defending democratic rights on campus requires independent working-class mobilisation — not reliance on administrations that have repeatedly sacrificed individuals to protect financial interests. The fight against racism, it argues, is inseparable from the fight against capitalism, because racism is a structural feature used to divide workers, not an anomaly to be managed by diversity initiatives.
Pip: The cycle the post describes — institutions need identity politics for legitimacy, the far right weaponises the symbols, institutions sacrifice the individuals — keeps turning precisely because the underlying class conflict stays unresolved.
Mara: Which is where the post lands: the university cannot be transformed by diversity initiatives alone. That requires dismantling the conditions that shape what universities are for in the first place.
Pip: The deeper question, then, isn't really about Cambridge or Harvard — it's about what any institution built to serve capital can actually defend when defending it becomes costly.
Mara: The Arday case sits at the intersection of everything the post maps — far-right strategy, liberal fragility, and the limits of symbolic politics as a substitute for class solidarity.
Pip: Next time, we'll see what else is coming through on the trumpet. Stay tuned.
A Trumpet of Sedition 