“Those who make revolutions by halves do nothing but dig their own tombs.”  — Louis Antoine de Saint-Just.

***

Mamdani and the Structural Contradictions of the Bourgeois State Apparatus

More than four months have passed since Zohran Mamdani, a young activist from the Democratic Socialists of America, rose to the position of mayor of one of the wealthiest and most important cities in the world. His electoral victory over the Democratic Party establishment candidate, Andrew Cuomo, was viewed sympathetically by many and seen as an expression of a leftward shift among a generation that led the university campus occupations in solidarity with Palestine and has been radicalizing since the rise of Bernie Sanders. His campaign centered on “affordability,” with proposals including free public transportation, taxes on billionaires, and anti-repression demands, such as the dissolution of the police’s most violent units. For these reasons, his candidacy was widely perceived as a challenge to the U.S. political and social order.

Yet, as soon as the task of administering the state apparatus took hold of both the candidate and the organization, they made a series of concessions to economic and political power. These concessions sparked intense debates within the organization and Jacobin, the magazine affiliated with DSA’s right-wing and prominent intellectuals. Amid this discussion, editor Peter Frase published an article opening a broader debate on the contradictions embodied by the Mamdani phenomenon in relation to the task of governing the state. This intervention appeared in the context of ongoing controversies within the organization itself, in which there have even been discussions about censoring criticism of the newly elected mayor. Frase characterizes the positions in the debate as follows:

On one side are those who see the task of DSA as defending Mamdani’s policy agenda and building the base of popular support for it. On the other are those more concerned with calling out compromises or betrayals that separate the new mayor’s actions in power from the principles of a democratic socialist organization.

Frase attempts to position himself above this antagonism, arguing that such debates are common among socialist parties that elect members to bourgeois governments. He contends, however, that the stakes are now much higher because the office in question is an executive one, “in the country’s largest city, tasked not merely with passing laws but with managing the bureaucracy of government itself.” The author’s stated objective in this discussion is to preserve “party” unity — creating space both for debate and for participation in governing, even with all the contradictions such a role entails. In his own words,

We need to break through this repetitive debate by treating it as a true contradiction and work through the ways that this contradiction has played out in the mayor’s early term. Doing so will allow us to develop ideas about how DSA and the Mamdani administration can maintain a contradictory unity, operating independently while avoiding direct opposition.

To clarify the meaning of these contradictions, the author defines them as “an antagonism that cannot be resolved without overcoming the larger system that gives rise to it, such as that between capital and labor.” In this particular case, Frase argues, it implies that

the contradiction is between Mamdani as a product of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), an organization at least nominally aiming to overturn the capitalist mode of production, and Mamdani as a politician attempting to operate the machinery of the capitalist state apparatus.

Although we consider this clash very important — and we will return to it — it is not the only contradiction that emerges in Frase’s text. Another question that arises is whether “twenty-first-century social democracy was viable for at least a little while”; that is, whether a reformist project can be carried out through the administration of a mayor’s office within an imperialist state, and at what cost. As Josenfina L. MartÍnez and MatÍas Maiello argue in another article: “The problem is that, even as a reformist, he has been making concessions without securing any significant reforms that would actually improve the lives of the working class.” While Frase does not explicitly pose this question, it nonetheless emerges through the various contradictions he identifies.

The author then lists a series of contradictions, ranging from negotiating with sections of the business class, to retaining the police commissioner inherited from the previous administration, to supporting establishment candidates within the Democratic Party. In this article, we delve deeper into these elements identified by Frase in order to draw broader lessons about the state. First, we consider what position should be adopted by those who seek to overturn the capitalist order. Second, we reflect on the dilemmas and dead ends that state administration poses for the Mamdani phenomenon. To do so, we will examine three key contradictions: first, the relationship between the state and the economy; second, the state and the repressive apparatus; and third, the state and “political alliances.”

The State and the “Economy”

Following Frase’s argument, the contradictions he identifies include negotiating with capitalist political and economic actors, “balancing the budget,” and “navigating the bond market,” among others. This entails implementing policies designed to guarantee the smooth functioning of some of the world’s most important financial operations. But it goes beyond that. It also means adapting to the conditions imposed by neoliberal capitalism, particularly the imperatives of fiscal and budgetary balance — a question that has been the subject of intense debate in our own country, Argentina.

What is also generally taken as common sense is that the state apparatus requires funding. At a minimum, this means that any state apparatus must guarantee a certain economic order and seek economic growth. This raison d’état, which appears to be a merely technical matter, in fact conceals the state’s position within society. The word economy itself sets a trap for us, because it appears as though it were a Subject in its own right. The economy rises, falls, or stagnates. The markets gain confidence, lose confidence, withdraw, or invest. But what do these terms — on which the state is so dependent — actually mean? In our society, they refer to the accumulation of value and, more specifically, of capital. Yet the producers of that value are the working class, while its appropriation is carried out by the capitalists. This takes place behind the scenes, within the process of production itself, in the hidden abode of capital that the capitalist state recognizes and protects as a private sphere into which it must not intrude. Private property, the state declares, is inviolable and sacred, and the products of labor belong to those who exploit it.

For Marxism, the state is neither a thing nor an entity standing above class social relations, struggles, and antagonisms. Rather, it is “the admission that this society has become entangled in an insoluble contradiction with itself, that it has split into irreconcilable antagonisms which it is powerless to eliminate,” as Engels wrote and Lenin later cited in The State and Revolution. This understanding clashes with the dominant ideology — and with what appears self-evident — which holds that the state functions to reconcile the various competing interests within society; in other words, it clashes with the ideology of class conciliation. This does not mean that the state never performs the role of an “arbiter.” But whenever it does so, it acts to preserve the existing relationship between rulers and ruled. In essence, its role is to maintain a social order in which, on one side, stand the capitalist monopolies and, on the other, the working class.

But the entire history of capitalism contradicts that ideology. Capital has never peacefully surrendered a single right; whatever it has lost through the struggles of those below, it has sought to regain through successive attacks and the most violent means available. Even among the wealthiest capitalists, there exists an awareness of an irreconcilable struggle with those of us who live from our labor. As Warren Buffett famously put it, “There’s class warfare, all right, but it’s my class, the rich class, that’s making war, and we’re winning.” The underlying issue is that the interest of one class in maintaining exploitation conflicts with the interest of the other class in not being exploited. It is this irreconcilable antagonism, this social rupture, that finds expression in the existence of the state.

The state exists only where class divisions exist. It is “an organ of class rule, an organ for the oppression of one class by another; it is the creation of ‘order,’ which legalizes and perpetuates this oppression by moderating the conflict between classes,” as Lenin argued in The State and Revolution. From this perspective, the capitalist state is the outcome of the capitalist class’s victory in securing political power. The scope and limits of social reforms are therefore determined by the framework of capitalist political rule. Revolutionaries, who also fight for social reforms, do so while arguing that political and social power should belong to the working class and the oppressed. Even within a democratic republic, this fundamental equation does not change. The capitalist state, though it appears to stand above society, remains an instrument of class domination, and no mere change of officeholders or political parties removes the capitalist class from its position of power. Moreover, the bourgeois democratic republic possesses an array of mechanisms through which popular will can be blocked via institutional channels. The courts and their wealthy judges — appointed through processes far removed from direct democratic control and closely connected to centers of economic and political power — are an example of how the political system is structurally constrained from within.

In Frase’s view, democratic socialists end up protecting private property and capitalist profit, and he treats this as a minor contradiction — one that can largely be passed over. But we believe this is a mistake. To “manage” the capitalist state apparatus entails, at a minimum, preserving the relationship of domination and exploitation experienced by the majority who live from their labor, while pushing as far as possible the expansion of capital accumulation. In other words, it means strengthening the power of capital over labor. More than that, it means relying on a share of the gains derived from imperialist exploitation and ensuring the smooth functioning of those interests and businesses. In short, administering the state apparatus means governing on behalf of the capitalist class. In New York, this means governing on behalf of imperialist interests. This aspect is largely overlooked in the Jacobin article, yet we believe it is of fundamental importance for anyone whose aim is to transform society.

The State and the “Armed Detachments”

For our author, the greatest obstacle lies within the state apparatus itself. The Mamdani administration oversees a police force of 33,000 officers and a budget worth billions of dollars — a veritable “blue power.” In this context, the government of “democratic socialism” has made a series of concessions to economic and political power. Among them was the decision to retain Jessica Tisch, a member of a billionaire family, as head of the New York Police Department. Her appointment represents a clear line of continuity with previous Democratic administrations. This is not merely a matter of keeping a high-ranking official in office; it also sends a conservative political signal regarding the power of the repressive apparatus. This is a central issue because the police are the institution charged with defending private property. They have repeatedly demonstrated racist, classist, and xenophobic characteristics and have been the target of powerful movements calling for their defunding, abolition, and the dismantling of police union power.

A fundamental characteristic of the state, both for Marxists and non-Marxists, is its repressive character. Max Weber, the pro-imperialist German sociologist of the early 20th century, defined the state as the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force, which requires disarming the population and concentrating that force in a particular institution. On this point, Marxism and Weber are in agreement. In his own words, “‘Every state is founded on force,’ said Leon Trotsky at Brest-Litovsk. And indeed, that is correct.”1Weber, Max. 1985. Essays on Contemporary Sociology I. Barcelona: Planeta-De Agostini.

Now, for Marxists, this monopoly of force is explained by the fact that the state, as the organization of the ruling class, cannot afford to allow opposing classes to develop a significant capacity for resistance. To this end, it creates heavily armed bodies and a range of coercive institutions, such as prisons. This repressive power has never been abandoned. On the contrary, it has been systematically professionalized and funded, including by the most neoliberal governments. The concentration of force becomes especially clear in every revolutionary situation, where the bourgeois state has sought to disarm insurgent forces. As Lenin argued,

A state arises, and every revolution, by destroying the state apparatus, shows us with complete clarity how the ruling class strives to restore the special bodies of armed men that serve its interests, while the oppressed class strives to create a new organization of this kind, capable of serving not the exploiters, but the exploited.

We can see that this character of organized repression, rooted in class divisions, is not diminished by governments that merely administer bourgeois power; rather, it can be consolidated and even strengthened. Returning to the Jacobin article, when confronted with a structural feature of the capitalist state, the DSA capitulates and enters into negotiations, making concessions in order to retain, at least, a sense of control over these forces. Yet the reality is the opposite: it is the “blue power” of the police that disciplines the DSA, imposing moderation without encountering significant resistance. All this takes place in a context in which states, both in the United States and globally, are expanding the power of their repressive apparatuses. Under Zohran Mamdani’s administration, police have arrested demonstrators protesting the forces involved in detaining and deporting migrants, as well as nurses engaged in struggles over their working conditions. This has unfolded against the backdrop of a movement in the United States that had called for the abolition of the police. Yet Mamdani did not advance even a significant reform in that direction; instead, he preserved the existing structures and their dysfunctions. For Frase, this represents one of many defeats without a fight — a consequence of a strategy centered on managing capitalism, which imposes limits on political forces that claim to be seeking fundamental change for the vast majority of society.

The State and Political Alliances

The other contradiction identified by Frase concerns the support that Mamdani’s party is providing to various candidates of the Democratic Party. He writes,

Attention has thus focused on Mamdani’s dealings with politicians on the city and state levels. Most significant is his, and DSA’s, relationship to Governor Kathy Hochul. Hochul is a pro-corporate centrist and has habitually blocked the Left’s agenda in the state. In particular, she has opposed one of the mayor’s central proposals: raising taxes on the wealthy to close a budget gap and preserve public services. And yet after barely a month in office, and despite having a primary opponent to her left (he would later drop out), Mamdani endorsed Hochul for reelection.

These concessions to established power are not isolated incidents. Mamdani has argued that preserving party unity — within the Democratic Party — at all costs is necessary to secure the resources needed to carry out reforms. He has used this same argument on previous occasions to keep emerging opposition currents “from the left” within the party in check. Far from being merely tactical judgments — that is, temporary or circumstantial decisions — the strategy pursued by Mamdani and the leadership of the DSA functions, in Frase’s view, as an obstacle to the emergence of new political projects that challenge the Democratic establishment. His rationale is that greater opportunities for social reform will be achieved in the future. In other words, their politics amount to more than reformism: they serve to contain left-wing alternatives within the framework of the imperialist Democratic Party. As our comrades at Left Voice point out,

when pressure mounts, he is more willing to discipline the movement on behalf of Democratic Party stability than to break with it on behalf of the people who organized to elect him.

As we can see, a section of the DSA leadership — consistent with its project of a 21st-century social democracy —  advocates a policy of preserving the bipartisan, capitalist, and imperialist order in exchange for a few crumbs that they are not even sure they will receive. This last point is important because every effort to discipline the class struggle weakens the very foundations of the sympathy behind the Mamdani phenomenon, as well as the strength needed to fight for reforms that capitalists will not simply concede. This is an old strategy that, more than 100 years ago, Rosa Luxemburg was already criticizing in those who sought only “immediate practical successes,” because in order to achieve them they had to adopt

a “policy of compensation” — in other words, a policy of behind-the-scenes negotiations and a conciliatory, cautious attitude, like that of a “statesman.” But a movement cannot remain still for long. Since social reforms in the capitalist world can offer only an empty promise, whatever tactics are pursued, the logical consequence will inevitably be disillusionment with social reform.2Luxemburg, Rosa. 2021. Socialism or Barbarism. Buenos Aires: IPS.

Luxemburg’s argument, and the strategy pursued by the right wing of 20th-century social democracy, invite comparison with the DSA today. Nevertheless, there is another path for those of us who seek a left-wing political alternative. One possible course would be to break with the Democratic Party and begin a process aimed at building a working-class organization in the United States that is independent of the imperialist and capitalist parties. Indeed, the electoral strength of the DSA candidate stemmed precisely from his challenge to the parties of the establishment, not from adaptation to or conciliation with them. This points to a possible path for the growth of such a force: instead of reaching accommodations with the establishment, challenge it; instead of disciplining the left wing, encourage it; instead of asking workers to vote for their exploiters, confront those exploiters and build their own independent political organization.

History does not repeat itself, but it rhymes, as the saying goes. “History repeats itself twice,” said Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel; “first as tragedy and then as farce,” added Karl Marx. Twentieth-century social democracy began its political life fighting capitalist regimes of every kind, often even operating clandestinely. It was a genuine political force of the working class. But with the advent of the imperialist era, it gradually adapted itself to the capitalist state, increasingly abandoning its commitment to socialism. Its bankruptcy was ultimately expressed when, in their respective countries, the majority of social-democratic parties supported their imperialist states during the First World War, helping send millions of workers to slaughter in a struggle among a handful of magnates for the redivision of the world. But if that was a tragedy, where does the project of a “twenty-first-century social democracy,” as Frase calls it, lead us? All indications suggest that it once again points toward the graveyard of social movements: toward becoming the left flank of an increasingly crisis-ridden imperialist order, and a brake on any movement that seeks to overturn the existing state of affairs. If the first experience was a tragedy, ours resembles a farce. It is precisely in light of this prospect that drawing the necessary conclusions becomes essential — to pull the emergency brake of history before both tragedy and farce run their course.

What Kind of Left Do We Need?

We can see that the strategy pursued by the DSA leadership entails moderation across the board, negotiation with bourgeois power, its institutions, and its parties — in other words, with the entire political regime — and an increasing transformation into a party of containment and order. This is the product of attempting to manage the capitalist state. This leitmotif, characterized under the banner of a project for a “Twenty-First-Century Social Democracy,” leads them to accept becoming the left wing of the U.S. imperial bourgeois order — an imperial order that is increasingly showing signs of strain.

Yet the contradiction that emerges is that the sympathy Mamdani enjoys did not stem from moderation. Rather, it came from the fact that he expressed, for a certain layer of people, the pro-Palestinian movement, opposition to billionaires, the movement against police violence, and the joint struggle of white and racialized people against the repression associated with Trumpism, among other causes. In other words, what made him a figure in whom people could place their confidence was not moderation but his challenge to a decaying social and political order that he is now helping administer. The calls for unity by Frase that we cited at the outset can only make sense if one accepts a gap between words and deeds, between a certain critique of the existing order and a complete adaptation to it. This amounts to affirming the incoherence of the movement itself, subordinating the more principled wing of the DSA to the accomplished facts and political choices of the sector most integrated into the existing regime.

As we argued in a previous article, it seems that for some time now there has been a renewed interest in questions of revolutionary strategy — that is, in reflecting on how best to employ the means necessary to transform this decaying society toward communism. This is an encouraging development because, as the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky once wrote, “Victory is not the ripe fruit of the proletariat’s ‘maturity.’ Victory is a strategic task” 3Trotsky, Leon. 2014. Victory Was Possible. Buenos Aires: IPS Editions.

One of the central questions in these discussions has been What attitude should be taken toward the state? An important factor behind the return of this issue is that, in response both to the rise of the Far Right and to the failure of the degraded traditional reformist currents, new political phenomena are emerging on the left. As Martinez and Maiello argue,

From New York to Germany, the United Kingdom, France, and Argentina, shifts in consciousness are emerging among sectors of youth, workers, and social movements. But these processes raise a decisive question: is the goal to administer capitalism “from the left,” or to build a force capable of confronting it?

We have outlined some of the contradictions inherent in the left-wing management of capitalism in our time, which, in essence, means becoming part of the existing regime. Rather than transforming society, such projects tend to moderate themselves and adapt to the system, ultimately acting as obstacles to class struggle. This turns them into politically impotent projects and a dead end for the aspirations they are able to channel. During this century, there have been several phenomena very similar to that represented by the New York politician. We have had, among others, a Spanish Mamdani (Pablo Iglesias with Podemos) and a Greek one (Alexis Tsipras with Syriza). Both projects ultimately ended in political impotence, unable to resolve through the state the contradictions imposed by the state itself and by the powers that dominate it. We have also seen Latin American examples, shaped by the dependent character of their countries, such as Gabriel Boric in Chile and even the current government of Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva in Brazil, whose administration has not even managed to reverse the highly regressive labor reform enacted under the post-impeachment government of Michel Temer. Given the regularity with which this occurs, the weakness and limitations of these administrations appear not to be accidental, nor merely a matter of political leadership, but rather a distinct social phenomenon of our time. While recognizing the differences between imperialist states and semicolonial ones, it can be said that these governments adopted a similar strategy in terms of their objectives. In order to achieve reforms within the existing system, they sought to administer that system from within. As a result, they found themselves governing on behalf of those who control the economy — banks, oligopolies, and large landowners. Unwilling to pursue a decisive struggle against these sectors, they ultimately capitulated and accepted the prevailing neoliberal order (and, in many cases, a dependent one as well). As we argued in the above-mentioned previous article,

Under current conditions, the so-called “Latin American reformist” governments appear to be far more constrained than those that were in power in 2011. This is acknowledged even by former Bolivian vice president Álvaro García Linera, who argues that today’s progressive governments “seek to preserve what already exists rather than win new gains.”4Linera García, Álvaro. 2023. “The Right Does Not Forgive.” Anfibia.

This is connected to the international situation in which we live, where the crisis of capitalist accumulation and the crisis of U.S. hegemony generate increasing pressure on workers in the imperialist countries — especially on their most oppressed layers — as well as on semicolonial states, which are deepening their subordination and dependency on both the United States and China. This occurs through various mechanisms: the direct surrender of resources, neocolonial trade agreements, the privatization of natural assets, or the development of export relationships with China. At the same time, the crisis of hegemony has led imperialist states to scale back social programs in order to redirect a significant portion of public spending toward military preparation and rearmament.

The limitations of these pseudo-reformisms, whose only function is to contain the masses, seem to stem from a conjunction of structural conditions and the impotence of their political strategy. It has been demonstrated many times that after the disappointment caused by these limitedly progressive governments, far-right forces strengthen. On the other hand, and contrary to what most establishment political analysts believed, the latest reactionary governments, such as Kast’s in Chile and Paz’s in Bolivia, are being strongly resisted. This implies that rather than strong governments, they exhibit a marked weakness that can be expressed only when the masses mobilize. We also saw this in Minneapolis when a massive general strike confronted Trump’s racist anti-immigration policies. It seems we are facing a knot of clashes in which powerless reformism stems from failing projects, and the Far Right generates significant social discontent.

It is not moderation that attracts the attention of the masses; rather, in the face of a system increasingly in crisis, polarization becomes evident. These facts bring us to the question of whether a left based on class struggle can emerge, fighting for profound solutions for the working class and oppressed people in rupture with capitalism. One that fights for the reduction of the working day and the distribution of jobs between the employed and unemployed; public works programs so that everyone has housing; taxes on vacant housing; nationalization of foreign trade and banking; expropriation of large capitalists and landowners; refusal to pay predatory and hunger-inducing debts; etc. Each country will have some nuances regarding the necessary measures, but the essential point is that without affecting big business owners, there is no progressive way out for the great majority.

We also know that simply managing the state apparatus cannot bring about these changes; thus, we must fight for a workers’ state that dismantles the existing machinery. The capitalist state relies on its employer-friendly and imperialist justice system, which has supported coups in several countries on the continent. It possesses repressive forces and undemocratic counterweights to popular sovereignty, such as the Senate, which represents lawmakers who compromise with the executive branch, along with the business lobby. For this, we draw on the experience of the Paris Commune, in which workers dismantled the capitalist repressive apparatus in the city and laid the foundations for a new type of state. In this state, all officials earned the equivalent of an average worker’s wage; all positions were revocable and subject to election; there was no distinction between legislative and executive powers; the police were replaced by the armed organization of the people; and there was separation of church and state. This state would break with the capitalist repressive apparatus in which a small armed minority subjugates the majority in the interests of capitalists. The organized majority would dismantle the minority of oppressors to impose its will. Ultimately, deliberative power would spread throughout society: schools, factories, and universities would elect their own representatives, and there would be no barriers to rationally planning production based on the needs of everyone.

Constituting this new type of political power organization can only be the result of class struggle — of the activation of the working class and the oppressed against the government and the state over who holds the power to direct society. For this, it is key to develop self-organization mechanisms that can include the largest possible number of the working class in this fight. The development of these combat institutions implies the emergence of a dual state power in society, a multiple sovereignty, as Tilly indicates. These institutions constitute a power that relies “on the direct initiative of the people from below and not on a law enacted by a centralized state power”5Lenin. 2013. Selected Works, vol. 2, 1917–1923. Buenos Aires: IPS Editions.

This worker and popular power against bourgeois power prefigures the workers’ state precisely because its strength comes from the initiative of the masses, because it replaces the repressive apparatus of the state with the armed organization of the people, and because officials are replaced by the direct government of the people. This dual power has appeared in various ways, with the soviets being its signature form that we now consider classic. As Sotiris explains about the relationship between dual power and the workers’ state in Selected Works of Lenin:

His analysis anticipates what Gramsci defined as a new hegemonic apparatus. The soviets made possible the establishment of a decision-making process that was more democratic and less bureaucratic, combining direct and indirect democracy, mobilizing the knowledge and skills present in society, and, above all, allowing the working class to exercise its educational, formative, and hegemonic role over the other subordinate classes. This is the description of a potentially comprehensive form of new state power.6Lenin. 2013. Selected Works, vol. 2, 1917–1923. Buenos Aires: IPS Editions

Yet for progress to be made in the direct intervention of the masses in the struggle, we must unrelentingly fight the regime’s various bureaucracies and parties. That is why we need to create organization from below and a materially organized political force that fights for this solution. As we have already seen, when the masses no longer want to endure hardships and take action, the bureaucracies and parties that defend this system will try to channel them into some integrated option. This happened during the recent period of uprisings in Chile, for example. Today, we see in Bolivia an incredible process with roadblocks and assemblies, but at the same time, there exists a myriad of bureaucracies and organizations of the regime seeking to negotiate with the government.

This movement between activation and institutionalization leads toward an increasingly precarious preservation of the existing order. To prevent this from happening, we need to strike with a united fist against these parties and bureaucracies. Today, with the failure of pseudo-reformist state management projects and the anger aroused by far-right governments, those of us who identify with this perspective of class struggle can make an international leap through skillful actions in different contexts and present a left-wing alternative to society.

This article, translated by Matteo Polenta, first appeared in Spanish at La Izquierda Diario on May 31, 2026.

Notes[+]

Notes

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