The death of Raymond Williams on January 26th robs the left in Britain of its most authoritative, consistent and radical voice. His loss is the more difficult to bear in that it was unexpected and came when he was at the height of his powers. Tributes to Williams have already appeared in many newspapers and periodicals, testifying to a widespread sense that the national culture is sorely impoverished by the death of its most acute critic.footnote＊ Williams approached literature, cultural studies, communications and adult education in such radically new ways that he opened up fresh fields of study and practice. While this cultural work was linked to his conception of a democratic ‘long revolution’ its validity and importance were recognized by many who had no prior commitment to his anti-capitalist politics. Similarly Williams’s drama or novels contain political themes but, like all his writing, are couched in a language far removed from received political discourse. Part of the value of Williams’s work to the Left must be that it did not, and does not, belong to the Left alone. Yet, especially in this journal, it is appropriate to attend
Raymond Williams was one of the founders of the nlr and contributed eighteen pieces to it, covering every phase of its development. In each decade his work stimulated critical reflection on fundamentals of the socialist project—Edward Thompson’s articles in the early sixties, the exchange between Terry Eagleton and Anthony Barnett in the seventies and Francis Mulhern’s exploration of Towards 2000 in nlr 148 in the eighties. The Review also collaborated with Raymond Williams in the production of what remains the fullest survey of his life and work as a socialist thinker, the book of interviews published as Politics and Letters (1977). This is not to say that the Review always struck the right note in its response to Williams, or that we consistently made the most of the invaluable resource of his intelligence, discrimination and support—attention that could be uneven is now more difficult to explain than misjudged engagement. Yet the larger influence of Williams on the history of the Review can not be in doubt.footnote1
But this was, of course, simply one aspect of a many-sided contribution to the birth of a ‘New Left’—in the Universities and Left Review of the 1950s, as editor of the May Day Manifesto of the late sixties, as a founder of the Socialist Society in the early 1980s and in many less formal ways as writer, speaker and participant in a great variety of working groups, campaigns and projects.
Following the publication of Culture and Society (1956) and The Long Revolution (1961) Williams’s work became, not for the last time, the subject of debate across the Left. Palme Dutt found little more than what he called ‘brand x reformism’. Edward Thompson and C.L.R. James, despite different backgrounds and an ocean separating them, nevertheless concurred in saluting Williams’s achievement and in questioning, in a very different spirit from Palme Dutt, its emphases and lacunae. They asked where were Lilburne and the popular discourse of the Putney debates, where were the concepts of Marx’s Capital and
The generosity of Williams’s approach to pre-socialist, or even antisocialist, traditions was disconcerting to critics on the Left. Yet it allowed him to tap neglected sources of social critique and to construct a socialist commitment that was to prove robust and weather-proof through several changes in the political climate. His insight into the formation of ruling class hegemony, and the ability of his own work to challenge it, stemmed from his decision to examine the patterns of established culture at their strong points and not to content himself with the comforting simplifications of a purely radical lineage. The main impulse of Williams’s work in the fifties was to (re)construct a critique of industrial capitalism as a human order rather than to pursue its specifically economic failures, or alleged failures, in the area of productivity. The Long Revolution went on to elaborate new conceptual tools which could identify hidden dimensions of political transformation and deep structures of the social formation. The insistence that political and economic institutions left out vital areas of experience and social practice, the attention paid to whole forms of life and longue durée, suggested at least the title and perhaps something in the overall method of Juliet Mitchell’s pioneering feminist essay ‘Women: The Longest Revolution’ in nlr 40 (1966). Raymond Williams’s analysis of the British social formation or of the culture industry was or became historical materialist by its very refusal of some of the established categories of Marxist discourse.