by Kornbluh, Joyce L. , Rosemont, Franklin, Thompson, Fred, Gross, Daniel
His article on sabotage appeared in Solidarity (February 25, 1911).
SABOTAGE
By BEN H. WILLIAMS
Sabotage ranges all the way from “passive resistance” at one extreme to violent destruction of property at the other. It does not include the destruction of machinery in every instance. In the case of “passive resistance” for example, as shown on the government owned railways of Austria, the workers simply obeyed the LAWS OF THE NATION governing traffic to the letter. They took no risks, they observed signals, they did exactly what the law told them to do. As a consequence, the railways were congested with rolling stock and traffic was practically impossible outside of 24 hours. No destruction of property occurred. That was “legal sabotage” and far from being “of no value,” it resulted in getting the men what they wanted.
Again, we see numerous examples of violent destruction of property in craft union strikes in this and other countries. In the early days of English trade unionism, this form of sabotage was employed as a regular system and proved effective under conditions then prevailing. (See Charles Reade’s “Put Yourself in His Place.”) In the present state of the workers’ superstitious reverence for property (which they do not understand their masters have taken from them) this form of sabotage may be of doubtful value, and often reacts upon the workers with disastrous effect.
Then, once more, we have that form of sabotage now being employed by the workers on the French railways, in which a studied plan is being carried out to “ball up” the service and put it in such a state of demoralization that the employers, public and private, will have to reinstate the workers discharged during the recent general strike. This “pearled sabotage” has proven more effective and terrifying even than the general strike itself; and unlike the latter, it is one-sided, costing the workers nothing and causing enormous losses to the capitalist enemy.
Here then we come to the real point on this question of sabotage: it is a WAR MEASURE, made necessary by the nature of the class struggle.
In the case of individual or craft violence, such for example as the blowing up of a bridge manned by scab labor, or the destruction of a machine in a factory, the understanding or recognition of the class war may be wholly lacking. In that case, the act may be condemned not only by the capitalist, but by the working class as well.
But in the case of “pearled sabotage,” above described, the war measure is apparent. Here the workers deliberately set about to harass their employers by a systematic and well-disciplined plan of campaign. They proceed upon the ever-new principle that “everything is fair in war” and that the weapon they have chosen will bring their masters to terms….
Sabotage, resulting in impairing the traffic or property of a railway system is always “immoral” from a capitalist’s standpoint because opposed to his interests. On the other hand, discharging and blacklisting 3,000 railway employees for their activity in a strike is “immoral” from the workers’ standpoint; and sabotage becomes a “moral weapon” to remedy that condition. The social democrat who balks at sabotage on the ground that it is an “immoral weapon” in the class war, views that war from the standpoint of the capitalists. Sabotage as a weapon of warfare against the employers is no more “immoral” than taking the first of May as a holiday without asking the bosses for it. Both are manifestations of class instinct and power on the part of the workers. With the possible exception, of course, of a purely individual act of revenge or reprisal which may produce more harm than good….
“Sabotage,” though a new word, is as old as the labor movement. It is now assuming new and complex forms in line with the development of that movement. Viewed as a war measure, sabotage has great possibilities as a means of defense and aggression. It is useless to try to argue it out of existence. We need not “advocate” it; we need only to explain it. The organized workers will do the acting.
5
This article by Frank Bohn, a Socialist Labor Party member and publicist who joined the I.W.W. in 1908, appeared in Solidarity (May 18, 1912).
SOME DEFINITIONS: DIRECT ACTION-SABOTAGE
By FRANK BOHN
Direct Action:—Of all the terms made use of in our discussion during the last six months, this has been the most abused. By direct action is meant any action taken by workers directly at the point of production with a view to bettering their conditions. The organization of any labor union whatever is direct action. Sending the shop committee to demand of the boss a change of shop rules is direct action. To oppose direct action is to oppose labor unionism as a whole with all its activities. In this sense, the term has been used by those who made use of it down to the time of the late controversy. It was the misuse of this expression by the comrades who oppose class-labor unionism which has caused so much uneasiness in the Socialist Party. When we come to the question as to what direct action shall be taken and when and how—that is for the organization on the job to determine. For the Socialist Party to try to lay down rules for the conduct of unions or one union in this matter would be as ridiculous as for the Socialist Party to seek to determine what the workers shall eat for breakfast. It is the business of the Socialist Party to organize and conduct political education activity. This does not imply, however, that in a lecture dealing with unionism conducted by the Socialist Party, these matters shall not be discussed. On the contrary, it is of the highest importance that the Socialist Party shall keep its membership informed through its press and its lecture courses of the latest developments in the field of labor.
Sabotage:—Sabotage means “strike and stay in the shop.” Striking workers thus are enabled to draw pay and keep out scabs while fighting capitalists. Sabotage does not necessarily mean destruction of machinery or other property, although that method has always been indulged in and will continue to be used as long as there is a class struggle. More often it is used to advantage in a quieter way. Excessive limitation of output is sabotage. So is any obstruction of the regular conduct of the industry. Ancient Hebrews in Egypt practiced sabotage when they spoiled the bricks. Slaves in the South practiced it regularly by putting stones and dirt in their bags of cotton to make them weigh heavier. An old cotton mill weaver in Massachusetts once told me that when baseball was first played, the boys in his mill stuck a bobbin in the running gear of the water wheel and so tied up the shop on Saturday afternoon that they could go and see the ball game…. When the workers face a specific situation, they will very likely continue to do as their interests and intelligence dictate.
6
This short story by Bert Willard appeared in the International Socialist Review (August 1912), three months after the Socialist Party convention at Indianapolis adopted an amendment to the Socialist Party constitution that “any member of the party who opposes political action or advocates crime, sabotage, or other methods of violence as a weapon of the working class to aid in its emancipation, shall be expelled from membership in the party.”
FARMER JONES
ON
PARTY PROBLEMS
By BERT WILLARD
“I see by the papers that the Comrades at Indianapolis have placed the official taboo on Sabotage; hereinafter, same is not to be given kindly mention in consecrated circles on penalty of excommunication,” said Farmer John, as he laid the Daily upon the kitchen table, and spat in the general direction of the wood box.
“Well, I declare,” exclaimed Mary Jane. “There ain’t no tellin’ what them Comrades will be doin’ next. Like as not well be electin’ a President. But what on earth is that Sabotage?”
“I ain’t a knowin’ just exactly what it is, Mary Jane, tho’ I’ll admit I’ve been tryin’ mighty hard to find out.”
“Land sakes, is it that bad? Somethin’ that’s agin’ the law and the gospels and common decency?”
“I couldn’t exactly say. As near as I can make out from readin’ the party papers, it all depends on whether you’re for it, or whether you’re agin’ it.”
“Is that so?”
&nbs
p; “Yes. If you’re for it, it ain’t half bad; and if you’re agin’ it, it’s simply horrible.”
“Well, now that sounds plumb reediculous to me, and me bein’ a Comrade, too. I reckon some of them high-brow Comrades fixed it that way so’s they could have something to argy about. But are we for it, or are we agin’ it?”
“I ain’t a’sayin’ nothin’, replied John. “If we violate the party creed, we will have to take the consequences; and I’ve been payin’ dues too long to be courtin’ excommunication. I was just thinkin’ tho’, that it’s a mighty long way between theory and practice; and when you’re theorisin’ you may think one thing is right and proper, but you’d think entirely different when you came to practicin’.
“For instance: Fifteen, twenty years ago a lot of us one-gallus squirrel turners from Missoury, Arkansaw, Texas, and ‘joinin’ ranges, was settlin’ up the Cheyenne country of Oklahoma. Settlers had been slow about comin’ into that country, owin’ to the fact that the report had been circulated that them parts was the national habitat and rendezvous of the coyote, prairie dog, rattlesnake, horse thief, cut-throat, etcetra and soforth, and not what might be called a salubrious climate for nesters with wimmen and kids.
“Howsumever, the cowmen were soon loose-herding their cattle over them prairies and when us nesters arrived on the scene, we found that the cattlemen had apportioned the range among themselves, and had it all fenced. All gover’ment land, too, and strictly agin’ the law to fence gover’ment land; but shucks, what’s the law between friends?
“The cattlemen naturally resented the presence of us settlers on their domains—nesters have a way of plowin’ the ground and ruinin’ the grass, you know. The cowmen would tell us we couldn’t raise nothin’ in them parts; no use tryin’. We’d have droughts and floods and hailstorms and hot winds and frosts and sand storms and grasshoppers and cyclones and chinch bugs; besides nothin’ wouldn’t grow, and it was no healthy place for nesters nohow. Which same wasn’t exactly what you might call encouragin’.
Solidarity, July 31, 1915.
“Notwithstandin’ all these calamities, natural and imported, us nesters would stay, and we’d live—somehow; mostly on cornbread, sow-bellie and bean soup. We’d go barefooted through cactus, prickly-pear, and rattlesnakes; and we’d wear our old overalls as long as they would hang together. In some bachelor establishments I knowed of, a ragged shirt and a red bandaner was full dress.
“But we lived—somehow. Come fall, we would have little patches of corn, all cut and shocked as pretty as you please. Then some bright night we would be sleepin’ peacefully, pleasantly dreamin’ we were floatin’ gently on a sea of bean soup, in which huge slabs of sow-bellie was disportin’ themselves gaily, when we’d hear the rustle of cattle in the corn, and would wake up all standin’. We’d take to corn field just as we stood, and it would be Whoop!’ ‘Hi-ye-ii!’ ‘Git out a here you durned critters!’ until broad daylight. On exam-inin’ the fence we would find that the wires had been cut in a dozen different places.
‘Well, we’d repair the fence and mozey off down to the store and post office, where we’d meet Sid Smith just drivin’ in, and we’d orate as follows:
“ ‘Mornin’, Sid.’
“ ‘Mornin’, John.’
“ ‘Fairish day.’
“ ‘Yep, needin’ rain.’
“ ‘How’s things over your way?’
“ ‘O, so so. How’s everything with you?’
“ ‘O, I ain’t complainin’ none. Whatcha been doin’ this morning’?’
“ ‘Fixin’ fence.’
“ ‘Fence down?’
“ ‘Yep. Sumpin’ tore it down last night.’
“Other nesters would come in with the same story, and it would be whispered around that about half a dozen of Wilkin’s cowboys had been seen hangin’ around on the creek, at just about dusk the even’ before.
“Well, everything would be quiet for about a week. We wouldn’t be gittin’ no rest, sleepin’ with one ear open, until we’d hear the cattle in the corn again. We’d chase ’em out, then we’d get the old shotgun and as soon as one of them steers got back inside the fence we’d kerbang! and Mr. Steer would tear out of that corn field like all possessed. It wouldn’t take more than four or five shots until that bunch of cattle would up-tail and across country. We’d go back to bed then, cause we knowed them steers wouldn’t be back that night.
“We wouldn’t much more than get in bed when we would hear boom! boom! over at one of the neighbors. In a few minutes it would be boom! boom! in another direction. We would then go to sleep, peaceful and quiet like, and wouldn’t wake until the sun was an hour high. Looking out over the prairie, we would see five or six steers lyin’ all stretched out as tho’ they wasn’t carin’ for nothin’ or nobody.
“We just couldn’t stop to fix the fence that morning, but would mozey down to the store the first thing, to get the news; and, as usual, would arrive just as Sid Smith was drivin’ in. After some and sundry discoursin’ on the past, present, and possible future condition of the weather, I’d remark, casual like:
“ ‘Thought we heard some shootin’ over your way last night, Sid.’
“ ‘So,’ Sid’d say. Wife ‘lowed as how she heard some shootin’ over your way last night, too. And do you know, when I got out this mornin’ I noticed five or six steers layin’ around over there, as tho’ somepin’ was a-ailin’ of ’em.’
‘Well, the neighbors would keep comin’ in until there wouldn’t be whittlin’ material to go ‘round, when old Wilkins’d ride up, lookin’ as pleasant as a grizzly bear, and we’d say.
“‘Mornin’, Mr. Wilkins.’
“ ‘Mornin’,’ he’d growl.
“ ‘Fairish day,’ we’d say, real caam like.
“Wilkins’d grunt.
“ ‘Needin’ rain,’ we’d remark next, tryin’ to be agreeable.
“Wilkins’d grunt again.
“ ‘What’s them over there?’ he’d growl, pointin’ at them steers.
“‘Mr. Wilkins,’ we’d say, ‘we reckons them’s steers. They’s been layin’ there for sometime. We ain’t never been over to em.’
“‘Umph!’ he’d growl, beginning to shake. ‘Six of ’em there! And five here! And eight yonder! And my riders tell me there’s more of ’em over there!’
“ ‘Yes, six, Mr. Wilkins,’ we’d say, ‘it shore ‘peers like it was gettin’ mighty onhealthy for range steers in these parts.’
“Wilkins’d look like he was about ready to explode.
“ ‘Yes, sir, Mr. Wilkins,’ we’d continue, we notices the coyotes are gittin’ that fat they’re too trifflin’ lazy to get out of a feller’s way!’
“Wilkins’d shore enough explode at that, and he’d ride off in a ‘lope, bellerin’ sumpin’ that sounded like ‘Damn!’ with all the trimmings.
“Us nesters would start home then, feelin’ so good we’d be whislin’ ‘Beautiful Land,’ to beat the band. In four or five days the news would be circulatin’ in the air that old Wilkins had sold out slick and clean, and was going to Old Mexico.
“Now, I ain’t a-sayin’ that us nesters was practisin’ Sabotage—that depends on whither you’re for it, or whither you’re agin it, I reckon—and if we’d been settin’ around in easy chairs, blowin’ smoke-wreaths at the chandelier, and theorisin’, I reckon we’d agreed that killin’ them steers was wrong, and showed disrespect for capitalist property laws. But us farmers didn’t theorise none. We didn’t think about it; besides we didn’t have time. We was too busy tryin’ to make a living. All that we thought of was: them steers were destroying our corn, there seemed but one way of stopping ’em, we took that way and saved our crops!
“And we didn’t call it Sabotage, nor ‘other methods of violence,’ nor destruction of property—we called it Justice!
“Now the moral of this here yarn is this: It’s a mighty long way between theory and practice; and when you’re theorisin’ on a full stomach, you hain’
t the least idea what you’d do if you was practicin’ on an empty one.
“But as I said ‘afore, I ain’t a sayin’ nothin’. I’ve been payin’ dues too long to be courtin’ excommunication. Then we names the ante and you will have to put up if you want to set in the game. However, there are some things I don’t understand, and one of them is, ‘Why should working-men be penalized for participatin’ in the class conflict?’
“The road to the co-operative commonwealth ain’t mapped, and we will have to blaze our own trail. Some will think we ought to go this way, some will say we should turn that way, others will declare the correct route lies straight ahead; at times, a few will think we are off the road entirely, but we will find the way through. For we’ll get there, Mary Jane, you can bet your boots on that; and once there, law-zee! what a time we will have tellin’ of the adventures we had a-comin’!”
7
This unsigned poem was printed in the New Orleans I.W.W. paper The Lumberjack (July 10, 1913). This paper, edited by Covington Hall, was published by the I.W.W. National Industrial Union of Forest and Lumber Workers, Southern Division.
SAW MILL “ACCIDENTS”
By THE WOODEN SHOE Km
What’s the trouble with that saw?
The carriage is out of line;
And don’t it beat you maw
How the hands kill time?
The engine is running hot,
That pump needs packing again;