Un articol excelent pentru
handicapatii gen cbjola carora
le place sa eticheteze 
pe calapodul invatat in
scoala de la tovarasa invatatoare
(stiti voi care, ala cu imperialistii,
burghezia, blablablabla...).

Astia patesc exact cum tovarasii
de lupta ai talmudicilor din diverse
perioade ale miscarii socialiste
au fost ostracizati drept intruchiparea
Raului precum au patit-o printre altii
fascistii (care de fapt sunt socialisti)
si nazistii (alti socialisti) sau cum
au patit-o asa zisii "national comunistii".


The Transformation of the Left into a Neo-Fascist Movement
By Andrei S. Markovits
Dissent Magazine | January 27, 2005
Since the fall of the Berlin Wall the European-along with the much
weaker American-left has been in a crisis that has challenged its very
identity. In fact, this profound crisis predated the events of 1989;
it was in full swing by the time the Wall tumbled in good part because
of the ineptitude and moral bankruptcy of at least part of this left.
Still, with the events of 1989 and 1990, a period that began in the
late 1860s and early 1870s and entered its political salience in the
1880s came to a close. A political manifestation and social formation
that defined the very idea of progressivism in the advanced industrial
societies for exactly one century collapsed. Some would say that the
radicalism of this period, its revolutionary potential to transform
capitalism, ended with the tragedy of 1914. After all, it was then
that the left realized that its internationalism and perceived
universal class solidarity had lost its primacy to the much more
powerful sentiment of particularistic nationalism. The left's
innocence was most certainly lost by the early fall of 1914. Others
would date the crisis from the end of World War I, the events of 1918,
which already pointed toward the coming of Stalinism in the Soviet
Union and National Socialism in Germany.

Still others see the death of a progressive alternative in the
internecine battle between social democrats and communists that
contributed to-though it wasn't responsible for-fascism's triumph,
particularly in Germany. The Hitler-Stalin pact, the Soviet invasion
of Hungary in 1956, a replay of that in Czechoslovakia twelve years
later, the Sino-Soviet altercations, the war between China and
Vietnam, the Cambodia fiasco with all its implications- there were
plenty of sobering experiences for the progressive project in Europe.
And yet, it was none of these political events that initiated the
fundamental transformation that was to be completed in 1989. It was
really a conjuncture of social, economic, generational, and cultural
shifts that changed the very identity of the left over the last
twenty-five years. At least in this instance, I will argue for the
primacy of economy and society over politics.

I argue that there have been four periods in the history of the left
since World War II that have affected the position of the left today.
American developments will be mentioned only when they were essential
contributors to the shaping of the left in all advanced industrial
societies. Although it is evident that "the left," as commonly
understood, was predominantly a European phenomenon throughout the
late nineteenth century and all of the twentieth century, the United
States did contribute significantly to this political formation
precisely in the postwar period. The Orthodox Period: 1945-1968
I have called the first era the orthodox period because it witnessed a
continuation, by and large, of the left's ideological and political
topography since the Bolshevik Revolution. Whereas 1945 represented a
major hiatus in the arrangement of global politics, it did not alter
the essential identity and topography of the left. Yes, communism
seemed ascendant vis-ŕ-vis social democracy on account of the Soviet
Union's emergence as a global power. Communism was a serious contender
for governmental power in Italy, France, Greece, and Czechoslovakia
before it was defeated by American-sponsored opposition in the first
three cases and by Soviet tanks-twice-in the last.

But the political landscape of Western Europe, as delineated by
Seymour Martin Lipset and Stein Rokkan, still pertained. Two fault
lines-both of which had been "frozen" by 1920-defined the identity of
"the left." The first was the external line that separated it from the
rest of the political world, notably liberals, conservatives,
fascists, clericalists, and the representatives of "cleavages" other
than the "owner-worker" cleavage that defined the essence of the left
as a whole.* And second was the internal line that separated social
democrats from communists. The earlier relationship between these two
was by and large resumed during the postwar period. Where social
democracy was the stronger of the two before the war, it emerged so
again afterward-and vice versa. The character of left-wing politics,
the culture of socialists and communists, was barely changed by the
war. The working-class-dominated milieus of the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries remained by and large what they had been.
Associations, colors, insignia, songs, tastes, and leisure activities
that had been institutionalized in the decades before the Second World
War- in many instances even before the Great War-continued in a
completely different world. Whatever the actual reasons for the
predominance of one leftist camp over the other, there was an obvious
North-South divide in Europe during this period of orthodoxy. The
countries north of the Alps (with Finland and Norway being the useful
exceptions proving the rule) exhibited a social democratic identity,
whereas their counterparts to the south embarked on a communist path.
These collective expressions of working-class identity remained
largely intact between 1918 and 1968. One of the most characteristic
manifestations of orthodoxy all over Europe was the domination of the
party over the unions. In the communist as well as the social
democratic version, the party was in charge of "big" politics; that
is, all matters pertaining to the state, society, economy, and
culture, whereas the unions' domain pertained almost exclusively to
"small" politics, the realm of industrial relations however defined.
There is, of course, the exception of the British Labour Party, whose
identity and policies were much more directly influenced by the
party's constituent unions than was the case for the continent's three
social democratic giants-Sweden, Austria, and Germany. To be sure, the
big union organizations were major players in these countries' social
democracies, but they took a back seat to "their" parties in politics.

No doubt, the party's primacy over the unions was much more pronounced
in the communist model than in the social democratic one. After all,
Leninism had designed the transmission-belt pattern of party-union
relations precisely in order to eliminate unions as autonomous
actors-and thus prevent syndicalist tendencies from developing as
viable options for left politics in advanced industrial societies
(though they did develop in semi-agrarian settings such as Spain,
Italy, and southern France). But even in the social democratic
variant, where no concept equivalent to the transmission belt existed,
the party was hegemonic: it designed strategy, took charge of the
theoretical debates, and prevailed in shaping economic policy. In
short, it led, and the unions followed.

Of course, there were immense differences between social democrats and
communists in this orthodox period. The former had reached an
accommodation with capitalism, even if they had not quite accepted it
yet; whereas the latter still saw their raison d'ętre in fundamental
opposition to the dominant social system. As a consequence of this
difference, communists and social democrats also found themselves on
opposite sides of the cold war, then in a hot phase. All
communists-without exception-rejected the North Atlantic Treaty
Organization, opposed the United States, and favored the Soviet Union
at least in some fashion, whereas most social democrats were hostile
to the Soviet Union, if initially also guarded in their support for
the West, NATO, and the United States. This issue contributed to an
open break within Italian social democracy (between the Socialist
Party [PSI] and the Social Democratic Party [PSDI]), and similar
fissures-without the ensuing break-opened in German, British, Danish,
and Norwegian social democracy as well. By the mid-to-late 1950s,
however, the "Westernizers" had carried the day. For the ensuing
thirty years, social democracy was unequivocally pro-Western. John
Maynard Keynes triumphed over Karl Marx, and the Godesberg platform
prevailed all over Western Europe-well beyond the immediate confines
of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD).

Still, the immense similarities between communism and social democracy
were more characteristic of the orthodox period than the obvious
differences. These in fact rendered them the unchallenged
representatives of a clear political formation that was known to
itself and the rest of the world as "the left." Here are some of these
shared traits: both were sociologically anchored in the male,
industrial, mainly skilled working class; ideologically, both were
ardent advocates of growth at all costs; politically, they were
believers in collective arrangements countering the inherent
fragmentation of the market and liberal individualism; strategically,
both were hopeful about "mega" solutions-"mega" state, "mega"
bureaucracies, "mega" technologies, "mega" progress. This was a time
when the left, both social democratic and communist, placed its hopes
in the "clean" energy of nuclear power. The changes that came in the
late 1960s were nothing short of revolutionary, though-in contrast to
the two subsequent periods-they still followed the major vectors of
what it meant to be "left." The Heterodox Period: 1968-1979
It would not be an exaggeration to say that virtually all the tenets
defining the left during the "orthodox" period were substantially
challenged, if not superseded, by events during the legendary sixties.
Thus, it is not by chance that in Germany, France, Italy, and the
United States, the "'68ers" (achtundsechziger, soixantehuitards) have
attained near mythical status, and generated a considerable nostalgia,
in the postwar histories of these countries' left-wing politics. Be it
the events at Berkeley, Columbia, and the National Democratic
Convention in Chicago for the United States; "the events" in Paris;
Italy's Hot Autumn; or the politics of confrontation embodied by the
Extra-Parliamentary Opposition (APO) and the Student Socialist
Organization (SDS) in the Federal Republic, there developed a clear
challenge to the existing lefts in each of these societies.

For the first time in the history of the left, the essential impetus
for this development came not primarily from Europe but from the
United States. Concretely, these changes were anchored in two major
struggles that informed American politics at the time: the civil
rights movement at home and the Vietnam War abroad. Both of these
developed into absolute icons for all lefts in the world. Mainly
carried by students and not by the traditional subject of the
left-that is, the industrial working class-this massive transformation
of the discourse of the left was deeply anchored in the cultural
climate of the United States, which the rest of the world,
particularly Europe's students and its young generally, embraced with
enthusiasm. One cannot understand the rise of the New Left in Paris,
Berlin, Milan, and London without understanding the massive influence
of American rock 'n' roll, folk music, protest songs and poetry, and
the civil rights movement's tactic of the "sit in." Posters of Bob
Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, Jerry Garcia, Martin
Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and Allen Ginsberg adorned the homes of
thousands of European New Leftists alongside such other icons as Che
Guevara and, of course, Ho Chi Minh. On both sides of the Atlantic,
this generation was equally formed by the first seemingly democratic
and impromptu rock festival held in the muddy fields near Woodstock,
New York, and by one of Europe's foremost intellectual émigrés who,
unlike others in his immediate milieu, proudly remained in America
while becoming one of this country's most challenging critics. I am
talking about Herbert Marcuse, whom many have-quite rightly-called the
New Left's most influential thinker. The deep American roots of the
New Left in Europe, both in form and substance, are beyond debate.

In notable contrast to the subsequent time period, which entailed a
paradigm shift, the New Left challenge developed within the Marxist
paradigm-though it was profoundly threatening to the existing world of
socialist politics. If the subsequent era was to transcend socialism
and develop some sort of post-socialist politics, New Leftists in the
period I have labeled "heterodox" wanted a "true" socialism, freed
from what they viewed as related perversions: social democracy in the
West and Leninism/Stalinism in the East (though some New Leftists were
mesmerized by Leninism in its Maoist version).

The authority that parties of the established left enjoyed during the
orthodox period eroded in this decade of heterodoxy. On the
intellectual level, the New Left offered a radical critique of the
politics of the hegemonic parties. On the institutional level, there
emerged small, but intellectually influential parties to the left of
the traditional social democratic and communist parties in terms of
their programs as well as their strategic approaches. Though small in
actual numbers, these parties represented the legacy of the "68-ers"
in the left's "party space"-a standing challenge to the orthodox left.
The Parti Socialiste Unifié in France might perhaps be the best
example of this genre: small in number of voters, members, and
officeholders, but important in intellectual influence.On the other
hand, the relationship between parties and unions changed
substantially. Several points are worthy of mention in this context:

1. Everywhere in Europe there occurred at this time a clear
politicization of the unions. They expanded their horizons from the
confined world of industrial relations and shop-floor affairs to
include issues of "grand politics" hitherto left to the respective
"sister" (or "mother") party. Unions catapulted themselves into a
position of quasi-equality with "their" parties. On the one hand, they
entered into various macropolitical arrangements with employers and
the state that gave labor an active role in economic management. Even
though often defensive in nature (and also demobilizing), these
neocorporatist arrangements signaled a new union strength. In addition
to this activism "from above," the unions also engaged in an activism
"from below." Largely propelled by a restive rank and file that wanted
to cash in on its superb position in a tight labor market, the unions
bargained for the most impressive "quantitative" and "qualitative"
gains attained by labor at any time in the fifty-plus years of the
postwar period. Even though these two activisms clashed with each
other, they emanated from the same optimism, power, and
self-confidence that redefined the role of unions inside the European
left during this period.

2. This, of course, led the unions to distance themselves from their
respective parties. Nowhere was this more obvious than in Italy, where
the three union confederations (allied with different parties)
discovered that as many things united as divided them. Similar, though
not as effective, distancing maneuvers on the part of unions also
occurred in Germany, Britain, Sweden, and Austria. Only in France did
the old transition-belt model between the Communist Party (PCF) and
the communist-dominated trade union federation (CGT) remain largely
intact. There too, however, independent union power figured
significantly in the discourse of the left, particularly because the
former Catholic union, sporting the new acronym CFDT, shed its former
clericalism and became one of the most vocal advocates of the New Left.

3. Central to this activism was the role of hitherto marginal elements
within the labor movement. Although labor's core-that is, male,
skilled, industrial workers-also participated in the general
mobilization, it was often its lesser skilled, female, and foreign
colleagues who were the political vanguard at the grass roots and on
the shop floor. Add to this group a substantial presence of
tertiary-sector "intellectual" workers, and the new working class had
become a politically meaningful reality.

4. There was also a noticeable "intellectualization" of the labor
movement. Through the influx of a large number of academic
researchers, many of whom were veteran "68-ers," the unions developed
a more sophisticated theoretical approach to problems that until then
remained largely beyond their purview. Union leaders always had a very
ambivalent relationship to left-wing intellectuals, but now a "march
through the institutions" on the part of New Left activists changed
organized labor's mentality to a noticeable degree.

But something wholly new also happened at this time: the rise of left
politics outside of any established institutions, parties, or unions.
It was in this milieu that the new meaning of "leftism" in Europe and
the United States was forged. It was at this critical juncture-the
decade between 1968 and 1978-that tendencies developed whose influence
persists to this day, in Germany especially, but also in Europe
generally. In my article "The Minister and the Terrorist" (Foreign
Affairs, November-December, 2001), I described four groupings that
emerged at this juncture within the New Left. I call the first group
the "Westerners." Germany's current foreign minister, Joschka Fischer,
is exhibit A. This group, though vehemently against the war in
Vietnam, totally supportive of third world liberation movements, and
bitterly opposed to Western-as well as West German-capitalism, began
to reorder the hierarchy of its negative preferences. Crucial in this
reordering was that tyranny rather than capitalism was put at the top
of the list. Put positively, at the top now was not the emancipation
of the working class or even the liberation of third world peoples
from imperialism, but rather democracy, due process,
constitutionalism, and human rights. For reasons that probably have
more to do with the personal psychologies and histories of the
relevant individuals than with macro-sociological factors such as
class background, education, religion, geographic origin, and gender,
the Westerners successfully differentiated between American culture
(which they loved, as is evident from Fischer's well-known admission
that Bob Dylan had a greater influence on his life than Karl Marx) and
American politics in the world (which they disliked). Above all, they
did not develop a visceral hatred of all things American. And they
also began to look at the Holocaust as a development sui generis and
not merely as an epiphenomenon of what the rest of the German left
then still called-and continues to call-"fascism" rather than National
Socialism. As a consequence, the Westerners committed a major
blasphemy in the eyes of the rest of the left. They argued that the
United States and the Federal Republic of Germany could-and did-on
occasion produce good things, such as a stable and democratic order in
Germany and Europe; and that liberal democracy, though capitalist, was
indeed preferable to tyranny, even of the people's republic kind. They
saw the West also as an occasional force of liberation and
emancipation, not only as one of repression and exploitation. Lastly,
members of this group upheld the value of universalism-already at this
time a ready target for various relativizing particularisms that came
to define other groups on the left, to which I now turn.

The second group I call the "Third Worldists." They considered
imperialism the most important political issue of the day and rejected
everything that the developed world stood for, including Western
values and industrial modernization. The Third Worldists would later
constitute the bulk of the "Fundamentalist" (or "Fundi") wing of the
German Green Party and fight a bitter rearguard action against what
they believed to be the sellouts by Fischer and his "Realos." During
the 1970s, the Third Worldists believed that the Federal Republic was
second only to the United States in its objectionable character. They
detested its parliamentary institutions, disdained its market-based
economy, hated its role as a driving force in modernization's
inevitable destruction of the environment, and feared any
manifestation of nationalism, which they saw as a harbinger of the
ever-looming "fascistization" of German politics and society. They
were vehemently anti-Zionist (although not necessarily anti-Semitic)
and found in the Palestinians an emblem of noble suffering and
anticolonial resistance.

The third group were the "orthodox Marxists," who located the source
of the Federal Republic's ills not in industrial modernization but in
capitalism. In contrast to all other New Leftists, members of this
group considered the industrial working class not only a worthy ally
but as an "objectively necessary" part of any major social
transformation. Adherents of this tendency reached deep into the SPD
and some German trade unions, notably the metal workers', printers',
journalists', writers', and bank employees' unions. They also
developed cozy relations with East Germany, whose Marxist-Leninist
system they regarded with tolerant admiration if not outright
enthusiasm. This group's strength explains why serious criticism of
"actually existing socialism" in the Soviet bloc was unpopular in
parts of the German left well into the 1980s-so much so that the
Polish Solidarity movement was often denounced by German unionists and
social democrats as retrograde and reactionary. (During his JUSO
[youth organization of the SPD] days, the current chancellor, Gerhard
Schroeder, was closest to this wing of the New Left.)

I call the fourth and last remaining group the "neo-Nationalists." The
New Left focused mainly on opposing the war in Vietnam, demonstrating
solidarity with developing-world liberation movements, and
transforming bourgeois society. But in Germany it also had a
nationalist component provoked by the country's division and limited
sovereignty. Left-wing nationalism has a long history in Germany
(National Bolshevism and the Strasser wing of the National Socialists
are two cases in point), and it is hardly surprising that such
feelings were represented among the '68ers as well. Nationalist
sentiment grew over the controversy surrounding the 1983 deployment of
American intermediate-range nuclear missiles on German soil and was
later intensified by German unification. By the mid-1990s, in fact, a
substantial number of '68ers had completed a journey from extreme left
to extreme right, with the constant factor being their hatred of the
West. Today, this antimodernist, anti-Western sentiment is alive and
well throughout Europe among those on the extreme right and left who
invoke nationalism in their opposition to globalization. The two most
prominent German radicals to undergo such a shift are Horst Mahler and
Bernd Rabehl. Along with two other prominent ex-leftists, Mahler-now
the far right National Democratic Party's official legal
counsel-recently declared that the '68er movement had been "neither
for communism nor for capitalism, neither for a Third-Worldist nor for
an Eastern or a Western community of values." Instead, it had been
"about the right of every Volk to assert its national-revolutionary
and social-revolutionary liberation." In this view, the Germans were
no exception. Already then, the main root of Germany's trouble lay in
its solid anchoring in the West-controlled by that double-headed evil,
the United States and world Jewry. In marked contrast to the Third
Worldists, adherents to this path developed an anti-Zionism that could
barely, if ever, be differentiated from anti-Semitism.

This is also the period when the left's enmity against Israel, begun
in the wake of the Six Day War of June 1967, became a salient issue
for its politics, its identity, and also its internal divisions.
Indeed, I would argue that perhaps the most defining gauge of where
somebody stood politically, how she/he saw the world, was that
ubiquitous triangle of Israel, the Jews, and the United States.
Roughly speaking, to the Westerners, the plight of the Jews was a
serious issue, which meant that they developed a much more favorable
view of Israel than did the other three groups. To the Third Worldists
and the orthodox Marxists, the plight of the Jews-though real-remained
unimportant, massively subordinate to the plight of third world
peoples (to the Third Worldists) and of workers (to the orthodox
Marxists). In the nationalist camp, by contrast, the plight of the
Jews was either never acknowledged or even viewed with outright
contempt. It is here that the nexus between the völkisch left and the
völkisch right, which manifested itself so vigorously in the streets
of many German and European cities in the spring of 2002 and again in
2003, was forged.

Paradigm Shift: 1980-1989
In this era most fundamental assumptions of the socialist project
underwent major challenges. Above all, the 1980s witnessed the
weakening -perhaps even severing-of an alliance that once had defined
the left, with the working class as subject of history and driving
force of progressive politics. From circa 1880 until 1980, the most
fundamental dogma of social democrats and communists alike was that
the working class would be the decisive carrier of social
transformation beyond capitalism. Both theoretically and empirically,
there was a tight logical connection between the working class and the
left: not all workers had to be left, but there could be no left
without workers. All other movements, social groups, and individuals
were in principle subordinated to the working class in the endeavor of
attaining socialism. This changed drastically in the course of the
1980s. Briefly put, the working class lost its position not only as a
theoretically compelling feature of all socialist orientations but
also as an empirical necessity of quotidian politics. This radical
change has three salient features.

1. The appearance of the new social movements and their political
offspring, the Green parties. In the course of the 1970s and
increasingly in the 1980s, progress began to mean almost the opposite
of what it did before. The term had always been associated with some
sort of growth, but now the desirability of growth was questioned, if
not entirely rejected. If being left and progressive meant building
dams and steel mills during the previous two eras, it now implied
saving little fish and rare birds from the destruction wrought by
those very dams and mills. The universalism of class as a primary
political identity was superseded by the particularism of groups.
Faith previously placed in technology, centralization, and the state
was now conferred upon localism, decentralization, and community
power. The left moved from growth, state, class, economy, and politics
to identity, gender, empowerment, and deconstruction. Tellingly, much
of critical social science, formerly engaged on behalf of a
progressive agenda, was now superseded by an increasingly
philosophized Marxism, which in turn drifted toward literary criticism
and various other poststructural and postmodern intellectual
endeavors. It had become clear by the mid-1980s that green was the
left's trendsetting color instead of the century-old red.
Increasingly, also, the color purple denoted the arrival and staying
power of politically meaningful women's movements in the public arena
of all advanced industrial democracies. Possibly no other change
wrought by the New Left had such a tangible impact on virtually all
aspects of private and public life as did the rise and establishment
of the women's movements. In brief, protecting the life-world,
reclaiming lost intimacy, defending vulnerable groups, extolling
smallness-all this replaced the previous faith in the liberating
aspects of technology and the obsession with "mega" projects that had
dominated the European and American left's discourse for exactly one
hundred years.

2. The weakening of union power. If the 1970s was the decade of the
unions, the 1980s could be called the decade of union setbacks.
Absolutely crucial in these were the massive offensives led by
hard-right governments such as Ronald Reagan's administration in the
United States and Margaret Thatcher's in Great Britain. On every
conceivable front and in every country, organized labor suffered one
defeat after another, leading to a substantial weakening of its
position in the political arena and the labor market. The losses
covered many areas: receding or stagnating membership; failure to
attain even the most meager compromises in collective bargaining;
seeing the arena and timing of conflict determined by management;
being unable to strike; facing serious problems with one's "own"
parties, be they communist or social democratic; confronting harsher
conditions of production; dealing with a hostile state preoccupied
with creating favorable economic conditions for an increasingly
difficult global economy.

Interestingly, the losses were particularly severe in those countries
where labor had been the least "compromised" by corporatist
arrangements during the previous two decades. In other words, where
labor's conflict with capital remained the "purest" in the sense that
it preserved the market as the main arena and adjudicating mechanism
of this conflict, the unions' setbacks were particularly severe. Thus,
the losses incurred by American and British labor were more profound
and long-lasting than those suffered by German, Austrian, and Swedish
labor. Although the political character of governments mattered, more
important still were the deeper social structures. Thus, for example,
even though Helmut Kohl's government in Germany was by most measures
as conservative as Reagan's in the United States and Thatcher's in
Britain, it simply could never roll back labor in Germany to the same
degree. Wherever labor's struggle with capital was mediated by various
public or para-public institutions and neocorporatist arrangements,
the losses were less drastic.

3. Labor's inability to pursue a genuine policy of international
solidarity. Marx got it right: capitalism, an inherently
depersonalized and rootless form of productive relations, was indeed
international in its structure, and this international system of
production exploited labor on an international scale. But just as Marx
the social analyst was more often right than wrong, the opposite is
true for Marx the normative thinker, the revolutionary, the activist,
the political man. He believed that because capitalism exploited the
working class internationally, the working class would sooner or later
realize the international dimensions of its predicament and confront
capitalism with its own internationalist solidarity. Alas, we know
from too many tragic events how erroneous this wishful thinking was.
If anything, labor has emerged as the most nationalistic among all
major social groups in advanced capitalist countries. In the United
States, Canada, Britain, France, and even in supposedly "open" and
export-oriented countries such as Germany, the trade unions have
consistently been active supporters of some sort of protectionist
measures. And for a good reason: labor indeed stands to lose an
inordinate amount of power and tangible material gains in a "free"
global market subject only to the laws of unbridled capitalism. This
is a very serious problem for organized labor and its progressive
allies in advanced capitalist societies because it fosters an
especially problematic particularism. Fragmentation and Polarization
With the collapse of Soviet communism and the green and purple
challenge to Western social democracy, the European left has lost the ove

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