*The Apparatus and Its Discipline* Lenin, Luxemburg, and Trotsky on Reformism, and What the DSA Sweep Actually Tests
Anthony P. Teso On June 23, 2026, a slate of New York progressive and DSA-backed candidates won a striking run of Democratic congressional primaries, including victories by Brad Lander in the Tenth District, Claire Valdez in the Seventh, and Darializa Avila Chevalier in New York's Thirteenth District, where the thirty-two-year-old Ph.D. student defeated five-term incumbent Adriano Espaillat. Contemporary reporting has treated these results, with some justification, as a sweep and as evidence of a maturing electoral operation. The commentary that followed took a predictable shape. It counted votes, tallied endorsements, catalogued membership growth, and treated the whole assemblage as proof that a strategy was working. What almost none of it did was ask the question that has historically separated socialist electoral work from left-liberal careerism: once these people hold office, what holds them? This is not a new question, but it can feel newly urgent when a movement suddenly starts winning. Lenin, Luxemburg, and Trotsky did not agree about much. They disagreed about organization, spontaneity, the pace of revolutionary change, and, in Luxemburg's case, about the very centralism that would later be associated with Lenin. Yet on reformism, they shared a basic warning that still matters: reform is not just a bad idea held by weak people. It is the political expression of a material position, reinforced by institutions that shape what officeholders can see, say, and do. You do not escape that pressure by trusting in good intentions alone. You either build a counter-pressure strong enough to hold representatives accountable, or the institution begins to hold them instead. The DSA sweep is a good occasion to recover that thesis, precisely because it is being narrated in exactly the terms the classical tradition warned against. What follows is an attempt to read the current conjuncture through the three thinkers who understood reformism as a structural pull rather than a moral failing and to ask what their framework demands of a socialist organization that has just put a cohort of its members within reach of federal office. The argument proceeds in four steps: first through Luxemburg's account of the bureaucratic apparatus, then through Lenin's analysis of opportunism as a material stratum, then through Trotsky's proposed mechanisms of discipline, and finally through the test these arguments pose for DSA's newly expanded electoral project. ---------------------------------------- Bernstein's Ghost and Luxemburg's Answer ---------------------------------------- The clearest statement of the problem is still the oldest. When Eduard Bernstein argued at the close of the nineteenth century that social democracy should abandon its revolutionary horizon and reconceive itself as a party of gradual reform, Rosa Luxemburg answered him not with an appeal to orthodoxy but with an analysis. Her 1899 reply , Reform or Revolution, presents an argument that people often misremember as a rejection of reforms. It is nothing of the kind. Luxemburg was emphatic that the daily struggle for reforms, the fight for wages, hours, suffrage, and the whole content of the workers' immediate life, was the indispensable school of the class, the only means by which the proletariat could develop the capacity to rule. [1] ( #_ftn1 ) Her quarrel with Bernstein was over the relationship between the two, not the value of either. Bernstein held that reforms accumulate, that they grow into socialism by increments, that the movement is everything and the goal nothing. Luxemburg's response was that reform and revolution are not two speeds along a single road but two qualitatively different aims, connected by a dialectic that the reformist misreads at every step. The struggle for reforms is the means; the conquest of power is the end; and the fatal error is to mistake the means for the end, to imagine that the ceaseless work of improving capitalism will one day, without rupture, cease to be capitalism. For Luxemburg, the trade-union and parliamentary struggle could win concessions within the wage relation but could not abolish it, because the wage relation is a structural feature rather than a policy. It is the form of the thing itself. What gives Luxemburg's argument its lasting force is the second move, the one made later and most sharply in her writings on the mass strike and the bureaucratization of German social democracy. She came to see that the pull toward reformism did not primarily stem from bad theory. It was located in the apparatus. The trade-union officialdom and the parliamentary delegation had developed interests of their own. Salaries, offices, careers, and a stake in the continued existence of the institutions through which they operated. The orderly management of the class struggle served these interests, while its rupture threatened them. The reformist ideology of the German party was, in the end, the self-consciousness of its own bureaucracy, the theory that a caste of functionaries developed to explain why the caution that protected their position was in fact the highest wisdom. [2] ( #_ftn2 ) This is the insight that we most need in the current moment, yet we often overlook it. When a socialist organization elects its members to office, it is not simply sending principled people into difficult institutions. This situation is also creating a group of members whose daily lives are starting to differ from those of the constituents who elected them. The salary is real. So are the staff, the access, the donor conversations, the deference, the proximity to power, and the growing distance from ordinary workplace struggle. These pressures do not only affect the cynical. They affect sincere people too, because they are built into the job. Luxembourg’s point is that character matters, but character alone is not enough. The office works on whoever enters it. When considered in this context, the celebratory narration of the DSA sweep is revealed to be a category error. It measures the wrong thing. A list of victories tells you that the organization can win elections. It tells you nothing whatever about whether the organization can hold the people it has elected, and Luxemburg's whole argument is that these are not the same capacity and that the second is far harder to build than the first. An organization can double its membership, run a flawless field operation, and produce a cohort of articulate young socialists in office and still have built nothing but a more efficient conveyor belt into the very officialdom whose formation she spent her life warning against. ---------------------------------------- Lenin and the Materiality of Opportunism ---------------------------------------- If Luxemburg located reformism in the apparatus, Lenin located it in a class, or more precisely, in a stratum, and in doing so gave the analysis its sharpest edge. His account, developed across the polemics of the war years and consolidated in the assault on Kautsky in 1918 and 1919, held that the opportunism of the Second International was not an intellectual accident but the political voice of a definite social layer: the labor aristocracy and, riding above it, the trade-union and parliamentary officialdom whose privileges were financed, in the last instance, out of the superprofits of imperialism. [3] ( #_ftn3 ) The strength of this formulation, and also its danger, is that it makes reformism a question of interest rather than of belief. The Kautsky whom Lenin flayed was not a man who had forgotten his Marxism. He could recite it better than almost anyone alive. He was a man whose Marxism had become, by 1914, a doctrine perfectly compatible with voting for the war credits, because the institution he served, the parliamentary delegation of a mass party integrated into the national state, had made that compatibility a condition of its own survival. Lenin's fury at Kautsky was not the fury of a man arguing with an opponent. It was the fury of a man watching orthodoxy in words serve betrayal in deeds and understanding that the words no longer governed the deeds because a material apparatus now stood between them. What Lenin drew from this was not despair but a set of organizational requirements. If opportunism is the political form of a privileged stratum, then a revolutionary party cannot be a broad tent that simply contains that stratum and hopes to outvote it. It must be an organization capable of disciplining or expelling it, which means an organization whose elected representatives are bound to the party rather than the party bound to its representatives. The Bolshevik practice on this point, later codified in the conditions of admission to the Communist International, was not incidental to Lenin's politics. It was the practical content of the theory. Deputies were subject to the party fraction; they voted as the fraction decided; they could be recalled; their conduct in the bourgeois parliament was treated as a delegated and revocable function, never as a personal mandate. The twenty-one conditions adopted at the Second Congress of the Comintern in 1920 spell this out with a bluntness that reads today almost as a rebuke to the whole culture of contemporary left electoralism. Parties seeking admission were required to ensure that their parliamentary representatives subordinated themselves to the party leadership, that they placed their entire activity at the service of genuinely revolutionary work, and that the periodical and other press were fully subordinated to the party as well. [4] ( #_ftn4 ) The point of these conditions was not sectarian purity. It was the recognition, learned in blood from the collapse of 1914, that an elected representative left to his own judgment inside a bourgeois institution will, over time and on average, be governed by that institution rather than by the movement that sent him there. The discipline was the answer to a demonstrated tendency, not an a priori dogma. It is worth being precise about what Lenin was and was not saying, because the caricature is so durable. He was not against participating in bourgeois parliaments; “Left-Wing” Communism is a sustained polemic against the ultra-Left who wished to abstain from them on principle. [5] ( #_ftn5 ) He was insistent that revolutionaries must go into every arena where the masses are, including the reactionary trade unions and the sham parliaments, and use them as platforms. But the platform was to be used by a disciplined organization that retained the power to determine what was said from it and to remove the speaker who departed from the line. The parliamentary tribune, in the Leninist sense, is a megaphone held by the party. The careerist, by contrast, is a man who has been handed the megaphone and now owns it. ---------------------------------- A Note on Why the Pull Is Material ---------------------------------- It is worth pausing to make explicit what “material” means here, because the word is thrown around on the left as a synonym for “serious” and in the process loses its analytic content. The reformist pull is not material in the sense that reformists are greedy, though some are. It is material in the sense that it is generated by a social form that operates behind the backs of the people caught in it, independent of what they intend. The wage relation does not ask the worker's permission to structure his day, and the office does not ask the representative's permission to structure her incentives. Both are forms that impose a logic on whoever occupies the position, and the person's consciousness adjusts to the position far more reliably than the position bends to the person's consciousness. This is the whole burden of the mature Marxian critique: that the categories of capitalist society are not descriptions of what people think but constraints on what they can do, enforced by the mute compulsion of the relations themselves. Apply this to an elected representative, and the point becomes easier to see. A socialist who takes federal office does not simply gain a salary and a title. She enters a web of relationships, each with its own pressure. She has to raise money, and money comes with expectations. She has to staff an office, and the people available to staff it often come from a professional political world with its own habits and assumptions. She has to work with colleagues whose cooperation she may need, and that cooperation often rewards accommodation. None of this requires corruption. Much of it can feel, from the inside, like maturity, realism, or learning how things actually get done. That is exactly why the pull is so powerful. Which is why the answer cannot be a better sort of person and can only be a counter-form. If the position generates the pull, then only a competing position, a second set of relations exerting a compulsion of its own, can hold it. The recall power, the wage cap, and the binding fraction are attempts to construct exactly such a counter-form: to build, alongside the relations of the office, a set of relations to the organization that impose their own logic and their own costs. The representative bound to a fraction is inserted into two webs at once, and the discipline consists in ensuring that the organizational web pulls at least as hard as the institutional one. Remove the counterform, and only one set of relations remains in operation, and its outcome is not in doubt. This is not pessimism about human nature. It is realism about social form, and it is the thread that ties Luxemburg's apparatus and Lenin's stratum into a single analysis. ---------------------- Trotsky and the Bridge ---------------------- Trotsky's contribution to this problem is the most concrete of the three and the most immediately usable because he was the one who tried to specify the mechanics. The Transitional Program of 1938 is usually read as a document about demands, about the sliding scale of wages and hours, workers' control of production, and the expropriation of the banks. And so it is. But its deeper architecture is an answer to precisely the Luxemburgian problem of how the struggle for reforms relates to the struggle for power without collapsing into reformism. [6] ( #_ftn6 ) Trotsky's device is the transitional demand, a demand that begins from the actual conditions and consciousness of the working class as it presently exists and leads, by its own internal logic, toward the seizure of power. The demand is real; it is fought for in earnest; workers can understand it and rally to it. But it is framed so that its full satisfaction is incompatible with the continued rule of capital, so that the fight for it, pressed to the end, poses the question of who governs. The transitional method is thus the practical resolution of the reform-revolution dialectic that Luxemburg had posed in theory. It is a way of fighting for improvements in the workers' condition that builds, rather than dissipates, the organized capacity for rupture. For the present argument, though, the crucial passages in Trotsky are not the famous ones on demands but the recurring insistence on what he called workers' control over their own representatives. Across the Transitional Program and the writings around the French turn and the debates with the centrist parties of the 1930s, Trotsky returns compulsively to a small set of mechanisms: that officials elected on the movement's ticket should receive no more than a skilled worker's wage, that they should be subject to immediate recall by the bodies that elected them, and that they should be bound by the decisions of the organized fraction rather than by their own conscience or the pressures of the chamber. These are not moralizing suggestions. They are engineering. They are the specific devices by which the pull that Luxemburg diagnosed and the stratum that Lenin identified are to be held in check. [7] ( #_ftn7 ) The wage cap is the most misunderstood of these, dismissed as symbolic or puritanical. It is neither. Its function is materialist through and through. If the salary of office is many times what the official earned before and could earn after, then the official has acquired, on the day of election, a powerful personal interest in remaining in office, and remaining in office becomes a goal that can silently displace every other. The wage cap does not moralize this interest away. It abolishes the interest by abolishing the differential. The recalled official who returns to a skilled worker's wage has lost nothing that the base can hold over him, and the base has therefore lost nothing of its power to recall. The mechanism is designed to keep the material stakes of the office low enough that the representative has no private reason to cling to it against the movement's wishes. Strip that out and you have left the door open to exactly the process the whole apparatus was meant to prevent. Trotsky's other preoccupation in these years bears directly on the DSA situation, and it is the problem of centrism, of political formations that oscillate between the reformist and the revolutionary poles without resolving into either. He spent enormous energy on the parties of the London Bureau, the Independent Labour Party, the Spanish POUM, and the German SAP, precisely because he regarded them as the characteristic danger of a period of radicalization: organizations that had moved left in words, that contained genuinely revolutionary workers, but that lacked the programmatic clarity and organizational discipline to prevent themselves from sliding back. The centrist formation is not the enemy in the way the open reformist is. It is something more treacherous: a vessel that can carry radicalizing workers either forward into revolutionary politics or back into the swamp, depending on whether it develops the discipline to hold a course. Which way it goes is not settled by the sincerity of its members. It is settled by its structure. ------------------------------------- The Convergence, and the Disagreement ------------------------------------- It would be dishonest to present these three as a seamless bloc, and the dishonesty would cost the argument its most important qualification. Luxemburg's critique of Lenin, in her 1904 essay on the organizational questions of Russian social democracy, was aimed at exactly the centralism that the anti-reformist case seems to require. She feared that a disciplined central apparatus, however revolutionary its intentions, would reproduce in itself the very bureaucratic conservatism it was meant to combat, that the committee would substitute itself for the class, and that the discipline of the party would become one more instance of the officialdom's dead hand. [8] ( #_ftn8 ) This is not a footnote to be waved away. It is the internal tension of the whole tradition, and it must be held onto. The accountability mechanisms of recall, wage discipline, and the binding fraction are themselves apparatus. They can ossify. A fraction of discipline enforced by an entrenched leadership against a restive base is not the antidote to bureaucratization; it is bureaucratization wearing the mask of revolutionary rigor. Luxemburg's warning is that there is no device, no rule, and no structure that is self-executing and that guarantees its own democratic content regardless of the living political life around it. The mechanisms discipline the representative only if the base that operates them is itself alive, organized, and capable of independent judgment. Where the base is passive, the recall power is a dead letter, and the fraction discipline is merely the rule of whoever controls the fraction. What survives this tension, and what all three would recognize as the common ground beneath their real disagreements, is a single proposition. The relationship between a socialist organization and its elected representatives is not a relationship of trust. It is a relationship of power, and it must be structured as one. The reformist pull is constant and material; it operates on the sincere and the corrupt alike; it can be checked only by an equally material counter-pressure exerted by an organized and vigilant base through mechanisms that raise the cost of drift and lower the stakes of removal. Luxemburg supplies the diagnosis: the apparatus conservatizes. Lenin supplies the class analysis: conservatism has a material base and a social carrier. Trotsky supplies the engineering: here are the specific devices. And Luxemburg returns, at the end, with the warning that the devices themselves are not immune to the disease they treat. ----------------------------- What the Sweep Actually Tests ----------------------------- Return now to June 23 with this framework in hand, and the celebratory commentary looks not merely thin but disoriented. It has mistaken the easy question for the hard one. Winning the seat is the easy question, and DSA has demonstrated an impressive and improving capacity to answer it: a real field operation, a genuine base among a radicalizing layer of young workers and professionals, and candidates who can carry a room and hold a line on Palestine against an AIPAC-funded incumbent. None of this is nothing. All of it is the precondition for the hard question, which is the only one the tradition considers decisive: what mechanism now exists to hold Avila, Chevalier, and the others to the politics on which they ran once they are seated in an institution engineered across two centuries to absorb exactly such people? Pose the Trotskyan checklist, and the answers are not reassuring, because for the most part the questions are not even being asked. Is the representative bound to a skilled worker's wage, with the surplus returned to the organization? Is there a functioning recall procedure, operated by a body with the standing and the will to use it? Does an organized fraction determine how the representative votes on the questions that matter, or does the representative vote her conscience and report back afterward? Is the representative's staff, her press, her public voice subordinate to the movement, or has she acquired, on the day of her swearing-in, a personal apparatus answerable to no one but herself and the next election? The recent past already suggests the danger Luxemburg and Lenin would have recognized. The revealing test case is not a triumph but a disappointment: the conduct of the existing socialist delegation on questions where institutional pressure and the demands of the base sharply diverge. The record on votes touching Israel and Palestine, including abstentions, softened positions, and procedural explanations for absence at decisive moments, should not be treated only as a story about individual failure. It is also the ordinary operation of an institution on representatives who appear to face no counter-institution strong enough to make capitulation more costly than defiance. Where there is no binding fraction discipline, the representative is likely to be disciplined by the pressures already present in Congress. This is not simply a warning about the future. It is one way to read what has already happened, and the sweep only increases the number of seats to which the problem may apply. The Avila Chevalier victory sharpens the point rather than softening it, because it was so nearly a pure victory of the apparatus over the candidate's own political capital. She won because Mamdani's coalition and DSA's ground game did the work; the organization manufactured the office and handed it to her. This is not a criticism of her. It is a description of the mechanism, and the mechanism cuts both ways. An organization powerful enough to manufacture a congressional seat for a first-time candidate is, on the face of it, powerful enough to impose conditions on the use of that seat. It has maximal leverage at precisely the moment the celebratory narrative treats leverage as beside the point. The tragedy in prospect is that the organization will spend its leverage buying the win and retain nothing for the far harder task of governing what it has won. Here the Trotskyan analysis of centrism becomes unavoidable, because the DSA is, in the precise sense of the term, a centrist formation, and this is not an insult but a description of its structure. It oscillates. It contains a genuinely revolutionary layer and a frankly social-democratic one and a great mass in between that has not decided; it has moved sharply left in its rhetoric and its membership over a decade; and it has not resolved, organizationally, the question of whether its electoral work is a means of building an independent working-class political force or a means of staffing the left wing of the Democratic Party with more articulate personnel. The sweep does not answer this question. It intensifies it. Every seat won on the Democratic ballot line by an organization that has not built the discipline to hold its representatives is a seat that pulls the organization toward the fate of every previous left insurgency inside that party, which is to say toward absorption. The vessel can go either way. Which way it goes will be settled not by the radicalism of its members but by whether it builds the mechanisms the tradition specifies and is willing to use them. ------------------------------ Against the Comfort of Numbers ------------------------------ There is a reason the celebratory framing is so seductive, and it is worth naming, because the seduction is itself the thing the classical tradition teaches us to distrust. Numbers are comforting because they are legible. A doubled membership, a column of primary victories, and a rising national profile: these can be counted, charted, and displayed, and their growth feels like progress because growth is what a healthy organization is supposed to do. The accountability question, by contrast, is not legible in this way. It has no chart. It shows up only negatively, in the vote not cast, the line not held, and the representative who drifted while everyone was admiring the membership graph. The metrics that are easy to gather are exactly the metrics that measure the wrong thing, and an organization that manages itself by its dashboard will optimize for the sweep and neglect the discipline, right up until the moment the neglect announces itself as a betrayal that the dashboard never saw coming. This is Luxemburg's bureaucratization thesis restated for a movement that measures itself in the idiom of a growth startup. The German party, too, was proud of its numbers, its press runs, its dues-paying members, and its electoral share, all rising majestically year over year in the decades before 1914. The numbers were real, and the collapse was total, and it was total precisely because the growth had been growth of an apparatus whose material interests had quietly diverged from the revolutionary purpose the numbers were supposed to serve. The mass party of German social democracy did not fail to grow. It grew itself into an institution with a stake in the existing order, and when the test came in August 1914 the institution voted to defend the order that housed it. The lesson is not that growth is bad. The lesson is that growth of the apparatus, uncoupled from the growth of the base's power over the apparatus, is not a step toward socialism but a step toward the socialism of the officials, which is to say toward no socialism at all. None of this is an argument for abstention, and it is important to close off that misreading before it starts, because it is the misreading the electoralists will reach for first. The classical tradition was not against running candidates; Lenin ridiculed those who were, and Trotsky built his transitional method around the serious use of every arena, including the electoral one. The argument is not that DSA should not have contested these primaries or should not celebrate having won them. The argument is that winning is the beginning of the problem and not its solution; that the office is a dangerous instrument that disciplines its user unless the user is disciplined by something stronger; and that an organization that has learned to win elections but has not learned to govern its own winners has built half a machine and mistaken it for the whole. ------------------------- The Question Worth Asking ------------------------- The tribune and the careerist can look identical on the night of the victory. Both gave good speeches; both held the right line against the funded incumbent; both were carried into office on a wave of organized enthusiasm. The difference between them is not visible in anything that happened before the swearing-in. It becomes visible only afterward, and only under pressure, in the moment when the institution asks for the vote the base forbids. At that moment the tribune is held by a fraction that can recall her and by a wage that gives her nothing to protect, and the careerist is held by nothing but the calculation of her own next election. You cannot tell which one you have elected by counting the votes she won. You can tell only by examining the mechanisms that will operate on her once she governs, and if those mechanisms do not exist, then the honest answer to the question is that you do not know and that the odds, as Lenin and Luxemburg both understood, run heavily against you. So the question to put to the socialist movement after the sweep is not only how many seats it won, how much its membership has grown, or whether its candidates are sincere. Those things matter, but they are not enough. The deeper question is the one the classical tradition keeps returning to from different angles: what, concretely, holds these representatives to the politics on which they ran? If the answer is a real system of recall, wage discipline, and binding fraction control, operated by an active and organized base, then the sweep may mark the beginning of something durable. If the answer is enthusiasm, personal virtue, and the hope that good people will do good things once in office, then the movement has learned how to win elections without yet solving the harder problem of what happens after victory. The institution will apply pressure. The question is whether the movement has built enough pressure of its own to meet it. [1] ( #_ftnref1 ) Rosa Luxemburg, Reform or Revolution, in The Rosa Luxemburg Reader, ed. Peter Hudis and Kevin B. Anderson (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2004), 128–67. All citations to the 1899 text follow this edition. [2] ( #_ftnref2 ) On the conservatizing role of the union and party apparatus, see Luxemburg, The Mass Strike, the Political Party, and the Trade Unions (1906), in Hudis and Anderson, Reader, 168–99. The argument that reformist ideology expresses the material interests of the officialdom is developed most fully in her polemics against Karl Kautsky after 1910. [3] ( #_ftnref3 ) V. I. Lenin, Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (1917), and The Proletarian Revolution and the Renegade Kautsky (1918), in Lenin: Collected Works, vols. 22 and 28 (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1964–65). The thesis linking opportunism to the labor aristocracy is stated most directly in the 1920 preface to the French and German editions of Imperialism. [4] ( #_ftnref4 ) “Terms of Admission into Communist International” (the Twenty-One Conditions), adopted at the Second Congress, August 1920, in Lenin, Collected Works, vol. 31, 206–11. Conditions two, three, and eleven bear most directly on the subordination of press, parliamentary fraction, and elected deputies to the party. [5] ( #_ftnref5 ) V. I. Lenin, “Left-Wing” Communism: An Infantile Disorder (1920), in Collected Works, vol. 31, 17–118. The defense of revolutionary parliamentarism against the abstentionists occupies chapters seven and eight. [6] ( #_ftnref6 ) Leon Trotsky, The Death Agony of Capitalism and the Tasks of the Fourth International (1938), commonly known as the Transitional Program (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1977). [7] ( #_ftnref7 ) On the workers' wage, recall, and the subordination of elected representatives to the organization, see the Transitional Program's sections on soviets and on workers' control, and compare Trotsky's writings on the entry into the French Socialist Party (1934–35), collected in The Crisis of the French Section (1935–36) (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1977). [8] ( #_ftnref8 ) Rosa Luxemburg, “Organizational Questions of Russian Social Democracy” (1904), in Hudis and Anderson, Reader, 248–65. Her warning that the centralist apparatus can reproduce bureaucratic conservatism is not a rejection of organization but of its fetishization. -- Tony -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Groups.io Links: You receive all messages sent to this group. View/Reply Online (#42253): https://groups.io/g/marxmail/message/42253 Mute This Topic: https://groups.io/mt/120071893/21656 -=-=- POSTING RULES & NOTES #1 YOU MUST clip all extraneous text when replying to a message. #2 This mail-list, like most, is publicly & permanently archived. #3 Subscribe and post under an alias if #2 is a concern. #4 Do not exceed five posts a day. -=-=- Group Owner: [email protected] Unsubscribe: https://groups.io/g/marxmail/leave/13617172/21656/1316126222/xyzzy [[email protected]] -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
