One of my summer reads is Mark Twain’s Pudd’nhead Wilson. The story is quintessential late Twain; brutally ironic social critique. This is Clemens’ coming fully and finally to terms with the slave system he was born into. It has been on my list for a while and it’s a thrill to finally get to it. In the opening pages Twain has this wonderful description of the homes in the story’s fictional Missouri town of Dawson’s Landing:
When there was room on the ledge outside of the pots and boxes for a cat, the cat was there- in sunny weather- stretched at full length, asleep and blissfull, with her furry belly to the sun and a paw curved over her nose. Then the house was complete, and its contentment and peace were made manifest to the world by this symbol, whose testimony is infallible. A home without a cat- and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat- may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?
I grew up with cats and know where of Twain speaks. The furry companions in my life have been amongst the best relationships I’ve had. Lovers may come and go, but cats keep purring. When I walk the street and meet a cat I almost always stop for a chat. With very few exceptions, I’ve never met a cat that I didn’t have a rapport with. I regard them as damned near perfect creatures. As Twain’s Dawson’s Landing cat proves the peace of the home, Twain’s love of cats proves his own abundant humanity in my eyes. Not that it needed much further proof, but as per Twain, this evidence is infallible.
My appreciation, really awe, of the feline has led to my own particular theories about cats; who likes them and who doesn’t and what that might mean. There is something about a cat’s make-up that refuses the role of Master. We talk of a dog’s master, but I’ve never heard one speak of a cat’s master. They have no master and would resist the imposition of one to their last tuna-tinged breathe. Twain again (from “The Refuge of the Derelicts”):
That’s the way with a cat, you know — any cat; they don’t give a damn for discipline. And they can’t help it, they’re made so. But it ain’t really insubordination, when you come to look at it right and fair — it’s a word that don’t apply to a cat. A cat ain’t ever anybody’s slave or serf or servant, and can’t be — it ain’t in him to be. And so, he don’t have to obey anybody. He is the only creature in heaven or earth or anywhere that don’t have to obey somebody or other, including the angels. It sets him above the whole ruck, it puts him in a class by himself. He is independent. You understand the size of it? He is the only independent person there is. In heaven or anywhere else. There’s always somebody a king has to obey — a trollop, or a priest, or a ring, or a nation, or a deity or what not — but it ain’t so with a cat. A cat ain’t servant nor slave to anybody at all. He’s got all the independence there is, in Heaven or anywhere else, there ain’t any left over for anybody else. He’s your friend, if you like, but that’s the limit — equal terms, too, be you king or be you cobbler; you can’t play any I’m-better-than-you on a cat — no, sir! Yes, he’s your friend, if you like, but you got to treat him like a gentleman, there ain’t any other terms. The minute you don’t, he pulls freight.
Which brings me to my theory that in the world of Marxism and pets there exists a rift as wide as that separating the Permanent Revolution and Socialism in One Country. Now this theory is admittedly anecdotal and without a shred of materialism to back it up, but it is my firm belief, after years of observation, that Trotskyists like cats and Maoists like dogs.
This divergence is rooted in the Trot’s insistence on the independence of the class and the Maoist’s advocacy of the cross-class alliance. A dog’s whole life exists in a cross-class alliance and a dog in its natural state exists in a pack with Alphas, Betas, etc. It is tantamount to Mao’s 1949 advocacy of a People’s Democratic Dictatorship while a feline knows only the Dictatorship of the Pussycatiat. Dogs are their Master’s best friend because they are their charge. If it is love, it is the love of a benefactor. When you go for a walk you put a dog on a chain. Try putting a chain on a cat and you’ll assuredly need a band-aid or two. No, a cat “ain’t servant nor slave to anybody at all”.
Most Trotskyists I know have cats and many of them are named for one fallen hero of the class war or another; Rosa and Karl being amongst the most popular. Maoists name their dogs after their own heroes. I remember one member of the Revolutionary Communist Youth Brigade had a dog named Chen Boda. Now don’t get me wrong, I like dogs. Though on individual rather than class terms. It takes time for me to warm to a dog while with a cat it comes naturally and quick.
Yes, there are huge holes in my theory and this is why I have never brought it up at a branch meeting for a vote. For example, Trotsky had big, scary dogs in Coyoacán and I have never heard word of Trotsky’s cats (though I understand that a number of cats now roam the grounds of Trotsky’s final home). For a while I confused LT’s guard dogs’ names for the dogs of Robin Masters in Magnum PI; Zeus and Apollo. Now I have forgotten their names altogether. I also knew a professor with a dog named Trotsky, but he was no Trotskyist. Mao and meow is an alliteration, which though it proves nothing, points to possible problems as well.
What is indisputable is that Lenin was a fan of the pussy cat and both Trotskyists and Maoists claim Lenin as their own. It is also indisputable that Lenin rejected the Democratic Dictatorship for the Proletarian one. His appreciation of cats, while this is not proven, may have helped him to this conclusion. During his final convalescence a little purr ball was often curled up on his lap, giving him great comfort, we are sure, even as both his life and the Proletarian Dictatorship slipped away (Stalin, I am confident, was a dog man).
As with Twain, Lenin’s love of cats is testimony, despite the image of Lenin as an unfeeling, granite-chiseled caricature of a statue, of his immense humanity. Holes and all I stand by my theory. A revolutionary without a cat is a sop to the Popular Front. The working class must, like cats, demand its independence. Vivè la Felidae!
This a lovely piece of writing and a long chain of brilliant reply. (I’ve always thought the word “dogmatic” is just perfect…)
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Your very interesting post (and the dialectical debate that followed) have reached Italian marxists/cat lovers.
And although we have no information on Gramsci’s position towards cats or dogs (although I feel he would definitely be classified as a cat person) I thought we would share this nice image found on the web:
/Users/marco/Desktop/images.jpg
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After all the attempts to incorrectly categorize cats as Trotskyites, Maoists, bourgeois, etc., Mike Oliver nails it brilliantly. Heinlein. Not only do cats exhibit individualism and independence, they are suspicious (contemptuous, really) of anyone who tries to impose authority over them. Plus, Heinlein wrote about cats as extensively as Twain.
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Lets be clear here, cats are not communists or anarchists, cats are not human beings. The point is cats cannot be controlled, this drives Stalinists nuts( I basically consider Maoism to be a form of Stalinism with a few differing traits) it offends them that this clearly “inferior” being won’t take their lead while Trotskyists are more likely to accept it and even enjoy the challenge of being in a relationship with a cat on their terms. The dog follows the owner loyally because the owner knows best and will direct the dog in ints own interests the dog cannot discern for itself. Supposedly, this is clearly not always the case. Ain’t that Stalinism in a nutshell. Trotskyists, ideally are less into being dictators. There are however plenty of dictatorial personalities that identify as Trotskyists and plenty of Trotskyist leaning organizations have been ruined by a dictator who rails against Stalinism whil acting like Stalin. I think the problem with Trotskyists is they get really dogmatic, they take their ideas too seriously and so they get dogmatic about them, Trotskyists are very idealistic. I love my cat and hes definitely a cat, nobody tells him what to do, he will meow for pets and yet be in a really inconvenient spot to pet him in but if you try to pick him up he gets mad. He doesn’t like to get picked up. It makes sense, he doesn’t like to be reminded I’m way bigger than him and can overpower him and his will if I really want to. I am kind of the same way. I don’t know that cats are like Trotskyists as much as Trotskyists are really like cats. I like dogs too, some dogs, it depends on the dog. I however don’t treat dogs like inferiors and talk down to them. I find it irritating when someone speaks to a mature adult dog like a baby.
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You’ve completely missed the point. Twain’s not talking about *class* independence. He’s talking about individual indpendence. Cats aren’t communists; they’re individualist anarchists. Instead of Lenin you should be talking about Heinlein.
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Pingback: Catpitalism Vs. Dogmunism?: Lenin’s Cat and Other Stories « The Myth of Syphilis
I enjoyed this very much, which I found when I was curious about Lenin’s cat. More of us Marxists need to write with such whimsy. The Romanovs had a dog, which the family’s executioners did not spare. Perhaps, for Lenin, the dog-cat rivalry went that far.
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I’m a cat lover and a Marxist, definitely on the Trotsky side of this debate. HOWEVER… dogs are more much more collective in the way they work and live – but also subservient to their masters. The cross-class which you cite. Cats, by contrast, are independent and more self-reliant. Loyal to their own class perhaps, but perhaps this is bourgeois class loyalty. We go to work to serve them.
Perhaps with the socialist revolution cats would come under collective leadership and dogs would cast off the muck of ages and become masters of their own destiny. We will see.
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Thanks for responding to this old article angelica. For some reason lots of folks still stumble on it. Yes more socialists and cats and more socialist cats (or are they to anti-social to be socialists themselves?). Thanks for the link.
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This is all a while after the post, but more socialists and cats: Marx himself was quite ambivalent about cats. His own cat habit, even. When he had pennies to spare he’d buy his children cats; yet still, he regarded them as a bourgeois frivolities. Rousseau, on the other hand, while quite an arsehole in certain ways, was perhaps the first to propose the argument that Twain takes – http://virtualstoa.net/2012/01/11/rousseau-and-boswell-on-cats/ : “They do not like cats because the cat is free and will never consent to become a slave. He will do nothing to your order, as the other animals do… A hen would obey your orders if you could make her understand them, but a cat will understand you perfectly and not obey them.”
Brilliant. More socialists and cats, pls.
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Seems to me that a cat would be more like Mal Reynolds from “Firefly,” based on the second quote.
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Fascinating! I’m writing about Mark Twain and cats both in his stories and in his life, and here’s a reference I hadn’t known about–plus Lenin and Trotsky, what a bonus!
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“I’m writing about Mark Twain and cats both in his stories and in his life”…sounds like a fun project!
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You know, I’m not sure if I could call the RCP maoist anymore. As Avakianists (oy vey), I think they prefer ferrets or perhaps one of those blind shrews. The way my theory (sic) works:, Maoists are dog lovers, but dog lovers are not necessarily maoists.
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Shit, do I have to join the RCP now?
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Murphy,
I did hear of this. “cats domesticated themselves” which means they can just as well undomesticate themselves as they daily do. After a quick perusal I BELIEVE the poem is by Gunter Kunert and was published in a 1961 (untranslated) collection called Tagwerke. He wrote poems on paintings and pictures, most famously of Goya. I would love to see a copy, I’ve never read it.
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On the independence of cats, I was impressed by the archeological research (or was it biology?) recently that posited that cats were the only animals that domesticated themselves. When humans began storing grain 10 or 12 thousand years ago, it attracted mice and rats, so cats discovered that living among humans was a better deal than foraging in the wild. So, they’re only with us til a better deal comes along — dependent on no one, as Twain said.
By the way, does anyone know the poem in German based on the above photo of “Lenin mit einer Katze”? I thought it was Volker Braun but can’t find it in any of his books.
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Yes, yes. Trotsky would never name his dogs after The Lords of Olympus. I wonder who they might be named after. Knowing Trotsky some obscure Hungarian opera. Lorca doesn’t have to read it, Lorca already knows it.
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Love it. Wonderful post. (I tried to talk Lorca into reading it, but to no avail…)
Trotsky’s dogs, by the way, were Benno and Stella. Apparently he had them in France in 1933. Pictured here, in an exhibit at Coyoacán: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tbonejuju/174212004/in/set-72157594178743952/
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During the French Revolution, cats were considered revolutionary while dogs were associated with the despised “aristos.” In the cartoon movie “Gay Puree,” one of the good guy cats is actually named Ropespierre. Of course, during the siege of Paris by the Prussians during the Franco-Prussian war neither of furry friends fared too well.
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In my youth I was definitely a cat person but then, unfortunately, allergies…
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