A new party of the Left in this country is soon to be formed: its shape, as yet, is unknown; and for too long, its leaders—if leaders they can be called—have conducted their deliberations in a disgraceful secrecy. But that need not prevent the rest of us, who strive to practise our avowed democratic principles, from offering some reflections upon how such a party should be constituted. Our concern in this essay is the question of factions, and their usefulness to any project designed to restore the power of Socialist politics, and rescue ourselves from the wasteland that we have too long inhabited.

Any writer who ventures to defend factions, must be aware that she deviates from the common way: she finds arrayed against her the eminent minds of previous ages, to whom faction was a term of abuse, and she has no choice but to confront them. If she is a Socialist, her toil is so much the greater; because Socialists are known, and often disliked, for being disputatious and stubborn; we are thought of as obdurate creatures, disposed to cannibalism, and thrilled by the prospect of war with our allies. But however formidable these impressions may first appear, we intend here to show that factions, organised according to real differences of thought and principle, have a benign influence, which far exceeds their potential badness; and that factions, therefore, deserve a place within the frame of any new Left Party.

The historical aversion to factions

The suspicion of factions is ancient: in Thucydides we read of the “commotion” which overtook the Hellenic world during the Peloponnesian War: “The tie of party”, he says, “was stronger than the tie of blood, because a partisan was more ready to dare without asking why. (For party associations are not based upon any established law, nor do they seek the public good; they are formed in defiance of the laws and from self-interest.) The seal of good faith was not divine law, but fellowship in crime.” He continues: “The cause of all these evils was the love of power, originating in avarice and ambition, and the party-spirit which is engendered by them when men are fairly embarked in a contest … Neither faction cared for religion; but any fair pretence which succeeded in effecting some odious purpose was greatly lauded.”¹ Here we see a portrait of factions as groups of selfish and violent persons, whose sole devotion is to their sectional gain.

Lord Bacon considers the question from the vantage point of a practical politician: “Meane Men,” he counsels, “in their Rising, must adhere [to a faction]; but Great Men, that have Strength in themselves, were better to maintaine themselves Indifferent and Neutrall.”² Faction is thus conceived as an instrument of political ascent, to be abandoned once greatness has been attained, perhaps with a view to preserving peace and stability. In a roughly contemporaneous poem, ascribed to the adventurer Sir Walter Raleigh, we read the following lines: 

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others’ action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction.³

The reference to faction is derisive, the whole poem being an attack upon the institutions and lofty ideas of the world.

In the eighteenth century, British writers used the word “party” with much the same contempt. Swift defined it thus: “PARTY is the madness of many, for the gain of a few.” Hume, too, condemned party with remarkable warmth: “As much as legislators and founders of states ought to be respected among men, as much ought the founders of sects and factions to be detested and hated; because the influence of faction is directly contrary to that of laws. Factions subvert government, render laws impotent, and beget the fiercest animosities among men of the same nation, who ought to give mutual assistance and protection to each other. And what should render the founders of parties more odious is, the difficulty of extirpating these weeds, when once they have taken root in any state.”⁴ The reader will notice that the words “party” and “faction” are used interchangeably: both connote civil strife and vicious antagonism⁵.

This distrust of parties has not yet faded from our public discourse: witness the common juxtaposition of party and country. The recent British social attitudes survey, on “Britain’s democracy”, asks whether Britons trust the government to place the needs of the nation above the interests of their party⁶.

The virtues of parties

The historical denunciation of “party” notwithstanding, we now see that parties are a universal form of political organisation: they exist in every country, and few would think to condemn them per se. The reason for this is simple: in large modern communities, and especially those that have pretensions to democracy, it has been found indispensable to unite numerous people for the attainment of political ends; and a party is no more than a combination of certain persons who seek to effect a political purpose. If we abstract from the evil connotations of the word, a faction is precisely the same thing, but on a somewhat smaller scale. Now if it is true, as all the world seems to agree, that parties are necessary to effectual political work, one can scarcely object to the presence of factions within parties, when their purpose is to advocate a particular programme or set of principles. If a party is required for effective political contestation at the national level, then it is evident that factions perform the same task internally: each faction promotes its opinions with the object of winning the support of the rest of the organisation; and if they did not exist, it is obscure how else differences in the opinions of groups would be fully and forcibly expressed.

Any political organisation, it is obvious, will be marked by differences of ideas—of strategy, of tactics, and of principles. The question, therefore, is merely this: how should these differences be expressed? Should they be confined to secret groupings, unknown to anyone but their members?—to collections of whispering friends? Or ought these differences to be open, avowed, and clear? The operation of factions seems to be the only means to ensure that such political differences receive continuous representation, in a manner that is perceivable to all, and which renounces the sordid arts of secrecy.

When factions are founded on real political differences, they are a source of enormous benefit: the political consciousness of the ordinary party member is immediately elevated, because he realises, so soon as he enters the organisation, that diverse opinions abound. He is therefore compelled to reflect on the various arguments set forth by the contenders, and to weigh them in his mind; he receives, in short, excellent practice in the exercise of political judgment, and feels that he is participating in a true democracy. We must further consider that the members of factions themselves must continually account for their own political positions; questions, often penetrating ones, are proposed, and answers expected; each side must refine its principles and arguments, so that they come, by gradual degrees, ever closer to perfection. There is, besides, the grand advantage of transparency: the factions declare their existence and work openly. All this promotes habits of honesty, discussion, and genuine democratic competition, far more appealing to ordinary people than either the stifling rigidity of the Socialist sects, or the domineering inclinations of the Leftist notables connected with Corbynism⁷. If there is to be any prospect of inducing masses of British workers to join and remain in a new Left party, they ought to feel edified by their participation, rather than repelled.

We have seen that success in politics is conditional upon the combination of persons to attain their objects: this is the rationale of the political party. The faction merely applies the same reasoning to objects of a smaller scope; and if the one form of organisation is legitimate, it is scarcely possible that the other should be sinister.

As to the historical aversion to parties and factions⁸, its source will become evident when we consider the nature of the societies in which these writers lived. Factions, to them, were not democratic associations within the frame of a larger democratic body; they were competing bands of elites, none of whom were solicitous to improve the condition of the people, whether they were Whig, or Tory, or known by some other name. These alliances, moreover, tended to be formed of personal connections, sealed by kinship, or the transactions of patrons and clients; they were defined not by differences of principle, but in the main by differences of interest. At the same time, the great labouring mass of the community was barred from sharing in government, which left them completely exposed to the depredations of their rulers. Government, then, was little more than a disgusting struggle among the aristocracy, the reward of which was the power of plundering the people. Nothing could be further removed from those rapacious gangs than democratic factions within a democratic party, in a parliamentary state where every adult is entitled to vote. 

Further objections to factions considered

There is no doubt that both factions and parties suffer from certain defects, the most detrimental whereof is, that they have a tendency toward dogma, and the suppression of the individuality of their members: anyone who joins them consents to become a small part of a greater whole, and submits to the discipline of the majority. It is easy, in these circumstances, for an individual to be carried by the current of the organisation; to say nothing when they suppose themselves to be in an unpopular minority; and to accept on trust, or by custom, opinions that they ought to embrace from conviction. On the other hand, the majority’s sense of power is liable to make them arrogant, and intolerant of opposition; which sentiments, when they are allowed to grow, pervert the spirit of democracy.

In truth, however, this challenge arises with the birth of human society itself: the individual must always struggle to keep his mind free of the errors of the community; and the party, or faction, merely poses the same problem in miniature. Since these bad tendencies afflict all communities, and since there is no means of finally extinguishing them, they cannot be considered a sound objection to factions; but their hurtful consequences should nonetheless be mitigated so far as is possible. This is best effected by the continual examination of one’s own opinions, and diligent scrutiny of the arguments of one’s opponents, be they members of one’s party, or outside it.

Factions and “message discipline”

The remainder of the objections to factions are much less potent. It is said, for example, that factions are inimical to message discipline; that is, the notion that a party must deliver a single, uniform parcel of ideas and policies to voters. I readily assent to the proposition that the party must have a clear programme, which voters may take to be authoritative, and which members ought to promote and diffuse, regardless of their personal opinions. The alternative is complete disorder: every voter would hear something different about the measures advocated by the party, until at last Socialists in this country lost whatever little credibility we possess. There must, therefore, be a programme, which all members will have to accept as the foundation of their political activity. But it does not follow from this application of message discipline, that all factional debate within the party should be banned or curtailed, or that all members must agree with the programme. What is there to fear from these disputes? It is true that voters would, by a little effort, be able to discover internal differences in our organisation’s politics; but that is all to the good. There is no party free of division: it is their treatment of divisions that distinguishes them. Some conceal their disputes from the public; they consider it a violation of propriety to have their quarrels out in the open; and they therefore deceive the people by denying them knowledge. This course is not open to a mass party, because it can only earn the people’s trust by practising stringent honesty: Lenin, who will be recognised as an authority in these matters, considered it a “duty” to give the people “a clear and truthful account of the struggle of the different political tendencies” among those who seek to lead them. Our open disputes should be a source of pride to us, and a sign of our special mission. Our various factions will prove the sincerity of our commitment to a mass organisation, where differences of opinion receive the freest expression and the most exacting scrutiny. Nothing is to be hidden from the people, whose support is our only weapon in our fight against much richer oligarchical enemies. As Lenin says, “No … we do not envy you your formal right to rejoice at the sharp struggle and splits within the ranks of Social Democracy. No doubt, there is much in this struggle that is to be deplored. Without a doubt, there is much in these splits that is disastrous to the cause of socialism. Nevertheless, not for a single minute would we care to barter this heavy truth for your ‘light’ lie. Our Party’s serious illness is the growing pains of a mass party. For there can be no mass party, no party of a class, without full clarity of essential shadings, without an open struggle between various tendencies, without informing the masses as to which leaders and which organisations of the Party are pursuing this or that line. Without this, a party worthy of the name cannot be built, and we are building it.⁹” Such a testimony is not to be passed over lightly. 

Temporary and permanent factions

Another objection urged against factions, sometimes allied with the anxiety to maintain message discipline, says that no faction should be permanent. Temporary factions, formed, perhaps, during the party’s pre-conference period, are tolerable and even beneficial; but permanent factions ought to be banned and repressed. The basis of this argument appears to be a division of the activity of the party into two stages: one, where debate and discussion are permissible; the other, where strict unity is enforced by penalties, with the purpose of promoting efficient and disciplined political work. But besides the consideration already brought to view, that this sort of discipline is neither practical nor desirable for a Socialist party, it is, moreover, impossible to sustain such a perfect line of distinction between temporary and permanent factions. It is evident that temporary factions, whenever they are permissible, will be formed owing to political differences; because those who entertain certain opinions will desire their expression in the party programme, to the exclusion of the opinions that they reject, if possible. But whatever the final decision of the party may be, it will very seldom happen—more likely never happen—that all the contenders abandon their old notions, and become completely persuaded of the result: on the contrary, the political differences will continue to exist, and so, therefore, will the motives which actuated the members of the factions in the first place.

 Hence the sole effect of the proscription of permanent factions would not be to end the party’s disputes, or to unify opinion: only the clear and perceptible expression of those differences would cease. The minority—the losers—would not only be conscious of defeat, but to add to their bitterness, would be compelled to dissolve their organisations, and no longer effectually campaign for what they thought right. It is, besides, obvious, that such compulsion—such a ban—would be impracticable. The members of the factions would retain their ability to meet—to plan—to deliberate—the only difference being, that now, they would do all this under cover of darkness. The habits of honesty and sincerity, so admirably promoted by the system of open factions, would be replaced by habits of fraud, deception, and conspiracy; and in consequence, instead of attracting the workers of this country, our party would be so much the more likely to disgust them. We conclude, therefore, that permanent factions ought to be permitted; and that they ought not to be dissolved merely because a conference period has passed, unless by a decision of their own members.

Factions and conflict

The principal objection to factions, and which, it must be admitted, has a real foundation in the political experience of many Socialists, is that they lead to dissensions and acrimony; and if this discord reaches a high enough pitch, it is conceivable that our Socialist party might burn to the ground. Indeed, the very word factious denotes fierce, vicious disputes. We have already observed that, in view of the necessity of combination for the attainment of political ends, it is highly probable that any party will house a number of factions¹⁰; the only question being, whether these factions are open, or secret. It is just for us to ask, therefore, whether the dissensions in a party of open factions would partake of a worse stamp than the dissensions of secret, hidden groups of rivals. I answer that open factions, because they are known, and can be hauled before the public opinion tribunal, would be far more courteous in disagreement, and far less liable to rancour and vengefulness, than hidden cliques. Assuming, therefore, that dissensions are inevitable, I am still disposed to think that they would be less hurtful in a party of open factions, of the type we have advocated here.

But let us consider the matter further. The Left, it is said, has a wretched history of infighting, and a bad reputation in consequence. We are divided, as the notorious lines say, into People’s Fronts of Judea, and Judean People’s Fronts: and if we embrace factions, we only embrace internecine conflicts. To this I answer, that dispute is an indispensable part of politics; and it is folly to oppose dispute in itself, and to ignore its salutary effects, as if nothing good ever came of the fearless confrontation of opinions. To complain of dispute—of undefined “infighting”—is vague declamation, and can never suffice as an argument: it is as well to complain of politics itself, and give up the business of liberating humanity from oppression. The wiser course is to contemplate the different forms of dispute, and thus to separate the good from the bad.

We have repeated that factions are beneficial when they are open, and founded on real political differences; we intend now to elucidate what is meant by real differences, and how they conduce to beneficial debates. Factions emerge for various reasons: sometimes, they are actuated merely by interest, because some collection of persons are desirous of power and dignity, and hope to gratify themselves by winning the leadership—these we call opportunists. Some factions arise owing to personal sympathies and antipathies, often because a leader, or group of leaders, have succeeded in attracting a train of adoring followers to themselves, who in turn entrust their political fates to the judgements and decrees of their chief. Him they would follow even through tortuous changes of policy, merely out of love for their leader, and their detestation of his enemies. And then there are the factions that are founded on the adherence to certain principles—their members come together, not because they are united by affection, or by the lust for power; but because reflection has led them to certain conclusions regarding their ends, strategy, and perhaps tactics, which they feel duty-bound to promote. 

This last is what we mean by factions founded on real political differences, and is exemplified by the distinctions between Revolutionaries and Reformists; Marxists and Populists; Trotskyists and Maoists and so forth. It is not to be affirmed that these different shapes of faction are perfectly distinct; it will often be found that differences of principle are mixed with ties of sympathy, and sometimes with calculations of interest; but it is yet evident that one of these motives is apt to overpower the others, and it is our opinion that those factions which are governed by principle are the only good ones. The reason of this is, that principled factions alone are capable of salutary disputes: because they ground themselves upon argument and reflection, their debates are, at bottom, rational—their result depends upon the exercise of judgement, and the weighing of different considerations in the mind. The same cannot be said of factions grounded on sympathy and antipathy: their existence is the result of the affections, not of reason—a conflict between such groupings can never be decided by argument, but must continue until the affections wane. Their effect, therefore, is to promote conflicts of an entirely injurious and futile character, which do no honour to the disputants, and leave behind needless enmities. Factions of interest, since they are actuated by personal profit and gain, have no business with argument. They may set up pretences, and sham pleas, with which to disguise their despicable careerism, but they will seldom offer anything valuable to a party’s discussions, unless by some remarkable accident. Our analysis, therefore, persuades us, that while the disputes of principled factions are useful, the disputes of other sorts of factions tend to be prodigiously hurtful. I do not say that the harmful kinds of factions ought to be banned—the aforementioned mixture of factional motives would render the operation very intricate, and no rule could be more vulnerable to political abuse, even against innocent factions—but certainly factions of interest and sympathy should be censured and opposed. Besides, such factions are inclined to conceal themselves; for they know that they cannot withstand public examination—or if they do go out publicly, they masquerade as factions of principle. As ever, it will be the obligation of sincere Socialists to expose the opportunists and rescue the misguided in our ranks.

If it is said that even rational disputes may still be destructive—may still rouse bilious passions—I admit the fact. It would be pleasant if comrades could always conduct their debates in complete tranquillity, with an eye only to the soundness of the arguments, and without the raising of a voice or the hurling of invective. But anyone who has observed the world knows that this state of perfection will never be achieved, and that feelings are bound to be wounded in the discussion of fateful questions, about which so many persons feel strongly¹¹. The best that can be done is to manage our conflicts according to the rules of a reasonable civility.

Factions and splits

There is one last objection for us to consider, also grounded in the experience of the British Left, and connected with the fear of dissension: factions, it is said, increase the ease of splitting from a party. This, too, is the fact: it is easier to split when an association, with its own structure, already has place; though it is also to be remembered that secret factions enjoy precisely the same facility of splitting. This objection is reasonable in so far as it is true that splits tend to cause serious damage to the Left and to the struggle for Socialism, and can only be warranted under narrow circumstances, which we need not investigate here. They divide our forces; they diminish our potency; they reduce us to ridicule and mockery; and they make the people look on us as incompetent egotists, unable to see past our immediate self-interest. That these are serious evils, whose occurrence we should strive to prevent, is beyond dispute. But it does not follow from the fact that factions make it easier to split, that they will necessarily increase the likelihood of splits. It may be easy for a strong man to hurt a weak one; but that does not imply he is likely to hurt him, unless he has some powerful inducement to do so. The question, then, is, what means are at our disposal, to discourage factions from splitting, even though it may be easy for them? It seems that there are two: the first is, to make our organisation as democratic as possible; to ensure that the voice of the minority, even if they cannot carry their resolutions, is always heard; to render it possible for minorities, by the patient propagation of their opinions, to become majorities. The spirit of such a democracy is not likely to conduce to the banning of factions, or their arbitrary confinement to a conference period. No—if factions are banned, they will either operate in secret, or their members will simply depart—split—in search of more tolerant comrades, or to languish in isolation as a sect. The second is, to make the fullest use of the popular sanction: those factions that split for entirely trivial reasons—because a vote has not gone their way—because some motion failed to be carried—because the leader feels that their eminence has been wrongly scorned—even though the party offers them all the democratic liberties they could desire—those splitters deserve the sternest condemnation of the Socialist movement; they should be reprobated and stigmatised as wreckers and saboteurs, regardless of the high motives they may allege, until such time as they return to their senses, and are ready to be welcomed back into the fold of comradeship. These means, I am apt to think, would be more than sufficient to dissuade principled factions from splitting, while allowing us also to retain all the advantages of open factions that we have discussed. It is, moreover, to be observed, that there is no infallible remedy for splits: those who wish to leave the party will do so; and to attempt to force them to stay, by a faction ban or some other expedient, would produce far more mischief than good. Those who are determined to split can do nothing for the wider organisation except injure it: if they have lost all faith in the party and its cause, we should be glad to see them leave, even as we recognise that splits are, on the whole, an evil. 

Concluding Remarks

The preceding discussion shows that none of the common objections urged against factions have any great force, and taken together, they do not outweigh the advantages of factions. We have also seen that factions and parties have much in common, and that it is incongruous to applaud one and disapprove of the other. Open factions of principle are the grand instruments of party democracy: to forbid them, or otherwise suppress them, would do enormous harm to the progress of Socialism.

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References

1. Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War, 3.82. ↩︎
2. Lord Bacon, “Of Faction”, in the Essays. ↩︎
3. Sir Walter Raleigh, “The Lie”. ↩︎
4. David Hume, “Of Parties in General”, in Essays Moral, Political, and Literary. ↩︎
5. In Samuel Johnson’s 1773 dictionary, we find party defined as “a faction” and faction defined as “A party in a state.” The communist theorist Mike Macnair has said that the informal parties of the English aristocracy, with their “loose structure”, were “combined with a sense that continued into the 19th century of the underlying illegitimacy of political parties: that it would be better if the ‘political classes’ (meaning the propertied classes) were all united in a uniform point of view. The idea that ‘party’ was an insult persisted in political discourse.” (Mike Macnair, “Programme: Lessons of Erfurt”, Weekly Worker, September 5, 2013, https://weeklyworker.co.uk/worker/976/programme-lessons-of-erfurt/). ↩︎
6. 46 percent of respondents answered “Almost never”—“the highest on record” as the researchers inform us. See National Centre for Social Research, BSA 42 | Britain’s democracy: A health check, June 2025; available at https://natcen.ac.uk/sites/default/files/2025-06/bsa-42-%7C-britain%26%23039%3Bs-democracy-1661.pdf. ↩︎
7. The admirable article by Harry Holmes on the Network Left, in this magazine, is a good account of these persons’ modes of thought and activity. (Harry Holmes , Prometheus Journal, “The Revenge of the Network Left”, September 19, 2024, https://prometheusjournal.org/2024/09/19/revenge-of-the-network-left/) ↩︎
8. This aversion was not universal: in the writing of Edmund Burke, who was long a devoted Whig, we find a spirited defence of party: “When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle … Party is a body of men united, for promoting by their joint endeavours the national interest, upon some particular principle in which they are all agreed. For my part, I find it impossible to conceive, that any one believes in his own politicks, or thinks them to be of any weight, who refuses to adopt the means of having them reduced into practice. It is the business of the speculative philosopher to mark the proper ends of Government. It is the business of the politician, who is the philosopher in action, to find out proper means towards those ends, and to employ them with effect. Therefore every honourable connexion will avow it as their first purpose, to pursue every just method to put the men who hold their opinions into such a condition as may enable them to carry their common plans into execution, with all the power and authority of the State.” Burke agrees with his contemporaries in detesting “faction”. (Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents). ↩︎
9. V. I. Lenin, “But Who Are the Judges?”, available at https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1907/nov/05b.htm.  ↩︎
10. The proof of this will be found in the conduct of the new Left formation’s organising group, where, despite the small number of participants, and the concealment of their discussions, it seems that factional groupings have formed and engaged in acrimonious combat. (Gabriel Pogrund, “Texts show Team Corbyn opposed new party minutes after launch”, The Times, July 5, 2025.) ↩︎
11. “[I]f the test” of temperate discussion, says John Stuart Mill, “be offence to those whose opinions are attacked, I think experience testifies that this offence is given whenever the attack is telling and powerful, and that every opponent who pushes them hard, and whom they find it difficult to answer, appears to them, if he shows any strong feeling on the subject, an intemperate opponent.” (John Stuart Mill, On Liberty, chapter 2.) ↩︎

Talal Hangari