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Tsvetelina Hristova: Operative and Performative Economies of Information in Communist Bulgaria

The tool factory Bolshevik in Gabrovo was the largest tool factory in the Balkans, picture from the scientific fund “Modern and Contemporary History” from the Regional History Museum, Gabrovo, 1970s. https://h-museum-gabrovo.bg/?p=7268 

In the early 1970s, the socialist state of Bulgaria was starting to develop a series of interconnected systems for the automated governance of different areas of social and economic life. The party established a network of territorial computational centres, institutions that housed mainframe computers for shared use by factories and state employees. This network formed the backbone of a new approach to information in the socialist state, one that evoked hopes and imaginaries that we can easily recognise in our data-driven present: automating production, detecting and eliminating human errors, predictive modelling and economic and social governance based on insights from large quantities of data about the processes on local and global level, increased flexibility in the organisation of production and supply chains. In many ways our present is the future past tense of a story that was being written in the post-WW2 decades of the 20th century on both sides of the Iron Curtain and looking back at these beginnings can help us understand how the current constellation of a data-driven economy consolidated and what possible futures it replaced.

Some level of automated information gathering had already been introduced in factories and institutions at that time. Automated systems of governance (ASU), a concept and practice borrowed from the Soviet experience, were mostly reliant on punch card and punch tape machines, with uneven level of technological sophistication and availability of computing machines. Under the umbrella of the project for Unified System of Social Information (USSI), the communist party envisioned the development of interconnected territorial databases that would collect structured data from industry, agriculture, construction, transportation, state administration, demographic statistical information, and the document flows of state institutions. Party leaders and engineers were imagining this machine-processable data as the key to unlocking a multiplicity of futurities that would solve key problems of the socialist society and radically transform its economic position on the global scene. USSI was conceived as a project to centralise the collection of machine-readable information. But for what purposes and what does this project tell us about the relationship of the socialist state to information? The small town of Gabrovo can give us an insight into this question.

Between 1972 and 1976, a team of engineers and designers assembled in Gabrovo as a local subsidiary of the Scientific Centre of the office for USSI. The team, led by engineer Nikola Vrazhilov, was tasked to develop a pilot module for USSI for the collection and analysis of data from industrial production. The team evaluated the available data collection and data transfer infrastructure at factories and municipal institutions in the region and developed a detailed project for their use in assembling the territorial database for Module Industry. Their archive shows a clever patchwork solution that took into account the different levels of digitalisation of this infrastructure and relied on technological and procedural translation across paper forms, punch card machines, magnetic tape, computers, telephone and telegraph networks. In the process of selecting key indicators to be gathered and writing the code for the BOMP-based programmes that enabled queries and analysis of the data, the question of the relationship between these new technologies for information processing and the traditional information practices of the state became pertinent.

At that point in time, in 1970s Socialist Bulgaria, the network of computational centres was emerging alongside and in an uneasy relationship to the established structures of statistical offices that had so far defined how practices of governance were grounded in information gathering and analysis. And the team in Gabrovo, led by Vrazhilov, was positioned between the two. The team was provided with an office in the building of the municipal computational centre and it had to closely collaborate with the local statistical office. Both of them met Vrazhilov with suspicion, as we can see from an archival trail of complaints and pleas for assistance. But his team played a crucial role as translators between the two models of use of information for governance purposes – the statistical and the computational. While they worked on a pilot project, their ambition was to develop a replicable methodology and code that could be scaled up and used across the country and that would eventually replace the existing incongruent methods of data gathering through statistical paper forms and ASU data. They aimed to establish a standard for digital data storage and use, one based on the principles of deduplication and a single source of truth, which, to this day, define e-government projects around the world.

Diagram of the information flows between factories and state institutions in Bulgaria, developed by Vrazhilov’s team in 1976 (archival unit 1206/1/23 from the Regional Archive in Gabrovo)

A key part of the work of Vrazhilov’s team was translating the indicators from statistical forms submitted to the Central Planning Committee into code that generated structured data and reports. One can argue that the socialist planned economy in itself was an information management project. The 5-year plan was not just a set of performance metrics to be achieved but acted, in itself, as a discursive performance of commitment to building a communist future. This performative aspect of the plan was reinforced even further with reforms in the early 1960s that aimed as decentralising control and giving back power to the workers. As part of this goal, a new form of the plan was introduced – the counter plan. It was proposed by the industrial workers themselves, at each factory, and was conceived as a way to make the planning expectations more realistic and grounded in the knowledge and abilities of the workers’ collectives, the brigades. In reality, though, the counter plan exacerbated the performativity of the plan, proposing even more ambitious achievements for the planning period. On the ground, as we can see from the archives of another state enterprise in Gabrovo, the Experimental Base, this competitive performativity led to perpetual struggle and failure to meet the goals. When faced with failures, however, the management of the factory was forced to prioritise the “material interest” of the workers and compensate them for their time, regardless of the results. As a way to deal with this cycle of ever more ambitious plans and inevitable failures, some factories had started to falsify the data and this was one of the key problems the state wanted to solve with its new computational network and machine-gathered data. By automating the data gathering and analysis, the state hoped to eliminate human errors – a hope that seems to persist in every historical context, regardless of the structure of the economic system.

Vrazhilov was hoping to achieve more. He wanted to use the data gathered daily, weekly, monthly and quarterly from factories in ways that went beyond mere verification. He wanted the data to show more, to reveal patterns that remained obscured in statistics. He coined the term “operative information” (оперативна информация) to refer to this idea. Operative information was a term that had both functional and temporal dimensions. It captured a period shorter than the regular reporting periods for the purposes of the plan. It was meant to capture the flow of production in action. The operative information consisted of data reported daily and within 10-day periods. These shorter periods of reporting were seen as an opportunity to reveal the rhythm of production rather than just expose whether factories fell short of fulfilling the plan. The operative nature of this approach was grounded in the window for intervention that Vrazhilov foresaw. Code would reveal uneven rhythms and then be used to diagnose and remediate the problem in ways reminiscent of what decades later has been termed algorhythmic governance – the regulation of the various temporal cycles of social life through algorithms.

Diagram Technological chain 1, development and maintenance of the datasets in the territorial database, from the Technical project “Development of Territorial System for teleprocessing in the region of Gabrovo, 1976 (Archival unit 1206/1/32 from the Regional Archive in Gabrovo)

Aside from the temporal dimension of production, the notion of operative data is interesting in other ways. The operation carried a multitude of loaded meanings during the Cold War. This term, coming from army jargon, captured the militarised spirit of mobilizing the workers for the competition between the Communist East and the Capitalist West. It also unfolded in a consistent relationship to information and the performativity of language and narrative. In the context of foreign intelligence and espionage, for example in a 1962 classified agreement between the Bulgarian secret police and the Soviet KGB, “operative information” was a term used to refer to data gathered through the structures of operative workers (оперативни работници), the fleet of trained informants of the secret police in communist states. These operative workers also played a key role in the moral and often oppressive economies of information in the country. They, together with untrained and spontaneous informants, gathered social data that could not be captured through the mechanisms of statistical forms and everyone, especially those in position of relative power, lived with the awareness that their actions and motives could be subject to a sort of fidelity test for compliance with the ethos of communism, that their social information and its interpretation were a contested terrain of ideological sense-making. This economy of information, where secrets and revelations acted as tools for control and redistribution of power, closely linked the organisation of industrial production with the circulation of narratives and interpretations. The institutions of the secret police and foreign espionage organs themselves were also incorporated into the initiatives for automated information systems for governance, developing databases and networks with dual use – for civilian and wartime purposes

We can stipulate that this complex informational aspect of the operation was shaped by the intellectual legacy of early Soviet figures like the poet Sergey Tretyakov in the early 1930s and anarchist thinkers and experimentators like Aleksey Gastev from the Central Institute for Labour (TsIT) in the 1920s, for both of whom the operation and the operational played a key role in the conceptualisation and enabling of the transformation to a communist social and economic system. Gastev’s “culture of the operation” aimed to provide a critical counterpoint to capitalist Taylorism, a scientific approach to the rhythm of production that had to be harmonised and steady but, above all, to be organised in a way that counters the alienating effects of the mechanisation and automation of capitalist production. Although the scientific organisation of work in texts by Gastev and TsIT drew inspiration from capitalist thinkers like Frederick Taylor (1910s), Frank Gilbreth (1910s) and Henry Ford (with whom TsIT exchanged letters in the 1920s), they insisted on the possibility of using the same methods to different ends, putting the embodied creativity of the worker and the workers’ collective at the centre of the operation. The ideological articulation of communist production was performative in the sense that the poet Sergey Tretyakov had developed in his work – the language of proletarian industrial production and organisation was not merely descriptive of an existing reality but aspired to bring a new communist reality into being. It was interventionist. And we can see this legacy in the aspirations of Vrazhilov for operative information that can not only capture the state of industrial factory production but can intervene into it and steady the rhythm of its flow. 

Vrazhilov’s work was largely met with enthusiasm, and the pilot project was planned to scale up. The traces of his team, however, disappeared in 1977 and his biography shows he was moved to a new position – as a director of the Base for Technological Development of Textile Machine Production in Gabrovo. Yet, the work of Vrazhilov’s team demonstrates how a seemingly technocratic project was deeply embedded in the legacy and aspirations of communism. It was not a project that used uniquely communist machines or approaches to coding or information networks. Rather, the emphasis on what made it socialist was consistently articulated through the language of communist ideology and through the economic base that defined the ownership of the means of production. Perhaps, this leaves us with a question for our present. What if, rather than focusing on the types of data-driven technologies in our lives and looking for technological fixes, we contemplate how to articulate and perform a different future and how to seize the material stratum that underpins it? The performative aspect of the operative information economy in state socialism was precarious and fragile. We have to acknowledge the archives of failures, the moral economy of control and punishment that aimed to contain subjectivities that adopted the performativity of language as means to reconcile the failures of production. And, yet, economic systems are inherently performative and imperfect. Our present AI-driven economy is built on promises and speculations. One crucial difference, however, is that it gradually but consistently limits the possibilities of workers resistance and control and its gains and losses are accounted for in ways that rarely if ever take the “material interest” of the workers as a primary concern.


Tsvetelina Hristova is an anthropologist, critical media studies scholar, and amateur boxer whose interest in social research developed from her involvement in left-wing activism in Bulgaria. Her work explores emerging and alternative forms of governance and control of labor and populations through analysis of the intersections of regimes of technological and political organizing.


We thank the Käte Hamburger Kolleg: Cultures of Research (c:o/re) for permission to reblog their original post, published August 10, 2026: https://khk.rwth-aachen.de/operative-and-performative-economies-of-information-in-communist-bulgaria/


Cite as: Hrsitova, T. 2026. “Operative and Performative Economies of Information in Communist Bulgaria” Käte Hamburger Kolleg: Cultures of Research (c:o/re) August 8. https://khk.rwth-aachen.de/operative-and-performative-economies-of-information-in-communist-bulgaria/

Don Nonini: How is Workers’ Labor Power “Inside” Yet “Beyond” Capital?

Image 1: Potato harvest, Clarketon Community Garden, Clarketon, Edgecombe County. Photo by Willie Jamaal Wright

Reading Don’s Value and Worthlessness (hereafter VAW)has been one of the peak experiences of my intellectual life. VAW promises to become one of the key texts in the Marxist anthropology of the 21st century. It displays Don’s rigorous Marxist theorizing, his study of the history of capitalism, and an ethnographic epistemology grounded in dialectical moves from the concreteness of lives laboring under capitalism “up” to the abstractions of theory, and then back “down” to the concrete to illuminate these lives. All this Don boisterously juxtaposes with a series of cogent yet cranky and highly enjoyable polemics against David Graeber, Marcel Mauss, moral anthropology, ontological anthropology, and other anthropological culturalisms.

Theoretically, in VAW Don has set out key conceptual contributions to any present and future Marxist anthropology: the law of value, the dialectic of use value and exchange value, double devaluations, critical junctions, hidden histories, uneven and combined development, insidious capital, and value regimes; and ethnographically: flexible familism (Eindhoven), post-socialist “worthless Poles” (Wroclaw), and the “politics of leftovers” (Cluj). VAW is quite clearly a book audaciously put together from decades of keen and incisive Marxist theorizing, historical analysis, and long-term ethnographic research – all of it infused with Don’s compassion for working people.

Above all, reading VAW made explicit to me the realization that I had long left unexamined about the history of postwar capitalism: As Don puts it (Kalb 2025:55), “What if there is no outside to capital? What if we have to start from the assumption that the whole of social life and the planet has now been usurped by the rough rule of capital…?” Don’s devastating critique in VAW (Kalb 2025:3-12, 18-19, 40-58) of prefigurative idealist anarchism and David Graeber’s work puts paid to the idea that today anyone in the world is “outside capitalism.” Everyone alive today finds themselves in some relationship to it – the vast majority of people for the worse, entangled in its deleterious effects. Uneven proletarianization of an increasing majority of the world’s human population as “broadly working-class” (Kalb 2025:187-188) is now universal, including among global Northern academics.

How is Marxist ethnography Illuminated by the history of capitalism — and of social movements?

I have read with great interest the FocaalBlogtexts by Stefan Voicu, Jaume Franquesa, Sharryn Kasmir, and Ida Susser on VAW, as well as Don’s rejoinder. Don’s commentators all offer important insights, but I want to focus on the heated debate between Ida and Don. Ida argues that commoning, and the presence of organic intellectuals articulating a counter hegemony are characteristic signs of the emergence of a leftist movement in the case of the Yellow Vests. Don’s rejoinder trenchantly takes exception to Ida’s argument by arguing that these phenomena were also present within the rightwing neonationalist movements of CEE workers he has studied, and are thus not diagnostic of the left.

This contention between Ida and Don is consequential. Here Don deals a doubly unfair hand to Ida. First, while Don has the advantage of the retrospective comparative histories of post-1980s CEE workers’ movements allowing him over time (1997-2007; Kalb 2025:73) to draw his brilliant inferences about how double devaluation is connected to the emergence of right wing movements; Ida in her very recent ethnography of the Yellow Vests (Susser 2026), whose history still remains largely “hidden,” has no such retrospective to draw on. Second, unlike the two decades post-socialist period that Don studied, Ida’s fieldwork on the Yellow Vests comes out of the recent accelerated political instabilities of the interregnum’s Polanyian counter movements on the left and right in the 2020s. Ida’s findings are necessarily provisional. That said, Ida argues cogently from her ethnography that the processes of Yellow Vests’ commoning and solidarity building combined with the efforts of its organic intellectuals show the attempt to build a leftist counter hegemony against the savage abuses of the French neoliberal state. Although the outcome is as yet unclear, Ida persuasively shows that what we see so far is that the Yellow Vests have turned to the left. Her assessment deserves our respectful attention.

Also worthy of respect is Ida’s discussion of counterhegemonic ideology by organic intellectuals who can be instrumental in forming leftist social movements. Such an ideology when combined with workers’ material resources can limit the effects of double devaluations (Kalb 2025: 29) in generating a turn to the right. These resources include workers’ labor power outside the wage-labor relation; income streams such as pensions and state transfer payments (e.g. for food, health care); knowledges, skills, tools, machines, land, etc. for collective provisioning; and the aid and assistance of allies, including agencies of the liberal state. Counterhegemonic ideologies that draw on collective histories (e.g., “Black Lives Matter,” “resisting fascism”) can armor workers against the individualism and isolating humiliations crucial to their devaluation (e.g., “you’re not productive, you deserve to be fired,” “you’re worthless”). I present one such example below. What is now needed in my view is open-minded critical discussion about leftist social movements in formation – generously framed between comrades.

The Use Value of Workers’ Labor Power: For Whom?

Like any masterpiece, VAW invites the reader to ask questions which the author has pointed to but not followed up on. In any event, reading VAW has helped this reader refine them. Don’s work (Kalb and Mollona 2018:1-29; Kalb 2024) makes clear his deep commitment to the analysis and critical support of the “urban insurrections” of 2011, more recent ones, and ones on their way, and more broadly to understanding the conditions that make them possible. What are these conditions, from whence do they arise, and what are their implications for research? In this context, I’d like to look briefly at what my book (Nonini and Holland 2024) and others (e.g. Susser 2026) might have to say about one of his least developed, even neglected, topics.

This is the use value of labor power exerted by the broadly defined working classes, but not as Karl Marx in Capital v.1 and Don in VAW refer to it – the use value of the labor power of workers for the capitalist in the process of appropriating surplus value – but instead the use value of waged and unwaged workers’ labor power for themselves and for those on whom they depend and who depend in turn on them in what Don refers to as the “biographical” process of social reproduction. Lebowitz (2003: 145) points to workers’ “’absolutely necessary’” private labor “outside the sphere of capital,” i.e., outside the domain of the wage-labor relation and its appropriation of surplus value – so in this sense “beyond capital.”

Let’s put this in the context of the current conjuncture. In a recent article Don (Kalb 2024: 3) has pointed to “traces of reversal” in the 2020s of labor’s losses under globalization and suggests that “a new cycle of labor may be in the offing.” This began surprisingly in the US “where unions have declined more than anywhere else”, but where schoolteachers, academics, and Hollywood writers in 2021 went successfully on strike, and then in 2023 United Auto Workers went out on strike against the Big Three auto manufacturers in “a militant labor mobilization the like of which have not been seen since the 1970s.” US labor’s actions initiated against Tesla in the US led to solidarity strikes against Tesla by Swedish, Danish and Norwegian trade unionists (Kalb 2024:3-4).

Will these manifestations of recent labor “unrest” consolidate into the emergence of a Polanyian counter movement on the left? If the labor activism of the 2020s is like periods in the past when leftist social movements have risen, we would expect this would be manifestly evident in ferocious organizing within labor unions and in antiracist, women’s, housing and environmental movements, extending labor’s power through strikes, consumer boycotts, and street and legal battles, and eventual capitalist concessions — in line with the law of value. But this will occur only to the extent that these shifts can draw on the collective resources of the broadly defined working class itself. Strikers on picket lines need meals prepared for them; families with workers on strike require child and elder care, etc.

I submit that these collective resources are being brought together (in part) through a shift in how workers act in very material ways to show they “value” the use value of their own labor power not only by denying it to the capitalist in the sphere of production, but also by expanding its uses within the social reproduction of everyday life toward collective, militant and disruptive ends. Neither working people nor their labor power are mere “objects” of capital. As Marx (1976:283) pointed out, in the course of class struggle over time, the worker “acts upon external nature and changes it, and in this way he simultaneously changes his own nature.” In doing so workers develop new needs that capital produces but cannot satisfy (e.g., higher wages, healthy air, clean water, adequate housing, nutritional food) (Lebowitz 2003: 178-189).

It is in this sphere of social reproduction that we can look for shifts in how workers labor to care for one another, organize collectively, make and sustain commons, find ways of defining and manifesting new needs and new kinds of collective consumption, and undertake the self- and collective-production and use of (petty) surplus. These can buttress a successful counterattack by the broad working-class on capital.

But many workers may not do some or any of these things. There are no guarantees. Their responses to declining capitalist hegemony in the US may be destructive, individualist, or racist, xenophobic, or even draw some to Trumpist neonationalism (Nonini 2026). As politically committed scholars, we need to understand what “works” and what doesn’t under these conditions.

Working people in the southern US have adapted their living labor outside the wage-labor relation to building their collective capacities and meeting their collective needs to resist capitalist attacks. In the US South, where anti-labor laws prevail, these collective actions of resistance have emerged from churches, antiracist and women’s organizations.

Commons, Needs, Consumption, and Petty Surplus in Rural Eastern North Carolina

Let me be more specific with a brief example from my recent book, Food Activism Today: Sustainability, Climate Change, and Social Justice (Nonini and Holland 2024). The book came out of a collaborative research project set in four different sites in North Carolina during 2009-2011. One of the sites was located in a three-county area within what is called the Black Belt of eastern coastal North Carolina.

In 2009, the few hundred residents of Clarketon, Edgecombe County, were African-Americans, descendants of slaves. Clarketon’s adults were dirt-poor, and owned little property if any other than a few acres of farmland. Other than undertaking very small-scale farming, they either labored in a nearby poultry processing plant or were otherwise unwaged/unemployed, retired or disabled. Within the three counties of the extended field site, they were surrounded by a hostile patchwork of large white-owned “commodity farms,” dotted by small towns each controlled by a very few white corporate managers, local business proprietors and landowners. These towns were situated on a landscape defaced by six prisons holding at least 2,000 prisoners, including a prison centered on a large 3,500 acre prison farm that grew and processed poultry and food crops, and another prison with two “Correction Enterprise” industrial plants producing optical products and printed documents. Both prisons’ industries depended on “convicts”’ expropriated labor power to produce commodities – and expropriated excess surplus value (Ibid., 260-263, 278).

Older adults of Clarketon still had memories of local whites violently attacking them as high schoolers in the 1960s that ended Jim Crow and school segregation. Above all, they said, they feared for “the youth,” their teenage and older children, who faced the dire prospect of being hirable only as low-end minimum-wage service workers in the fast food industry, of joining “gangs,” or being incarcerated in the same prisons that confined many siblings and elder relatives (Ibid.).

The center of residents’ social, religious and working lives outside of wage labor was the Clarketon Baptist Chapel Church and its Garden, both overseen by Reverend Richard Hemmings. The garden consisted of more than 11 acres of land donated by a parishioner of the church, and cultivated by its youth. “The Rev” (Hemmings) brought together a staff consisting of a garden manager, a beekeeper, a tractor mechanic and several retirees as volunteers to carry out a major objective of the church and its garden. This was to teach 15 to 20 Clarketon youth not only how to cultivate the garden and grow crops, but also how to distribute the produce they grew – to provide themselves with produce they could sell for income at a local farmers market to save money earned for their college costs – thus creating surplus for their own use – or keep as food which they could give to their own families to consume, or donate gratis to poorer disabled and retired residents, who were otherwise deficient in food. In doing so, the Rev was teaching youth (and garden staff) a key lesson: it was imperative that food production and distribution be done collectively and be based on solidarity with other Clarketon residents –other youth, elders, family members, and neighbors – through the making of a commons around farmland, collective labor and food production, while also shifting how they thought and acted with respect to their needs and consumption (Ibid., 262-277). As “the Rev” put it about consumption, “you gotta maximize your food, as you gotta cook your own food. You’re not gonna come out of poverty buying [fast food from your] spending money” (Ibid., 266).

Through these simultaneously social and material aspects of food provisioning the Rev taught the youth to develop their own their labor power to achieve the collective goal of contributing to the food security of Clarketon residents, while showing youth how to prepare and protect themselves as they grew older to engage an antagonistic white population who sought to harm them and deemed them worthless, disposable, criminal, and cut off from “society.”

The Rev contrasted this “’Afrocentric economy’” of co-responsibility and mutual support with a “’Eurocentric mindset… of less than, greater than… The struggle [between] the wealthy and the middle class and the poor.… I want to live where there are no classes. There are human beings. When money is the driving factor, then there is a lot of people excluded from the table. The job [i.e. wage labor and exploitation]. That’s how we get poor people’” (Ibid. 272). The Rev’s rejection of a “Eurocentric mindset” in favor of an “Afrocentric economy” is the articulation of a counterhegemonic ideology against US racial capitalism. The Rev is acting as an organic intellectual who connects the youth of Clarketon to one another and to the making of a commons and of community solidarity. In so doing, Rev Hemmings exemplifies the “blues epistemology” that Clyde Woods (1998: 29-39) observed operating among enclaved African-Americans in the rural southern US: the knowledge of a world where the African-American community was assailed on all sides by a hostile white majority, and the imperative in the face of such outside hostility to sustain the integrity of the ‘social dynamics’ of the Black community that suffered racial abuse” (ibid., 278).

Thinking Critically about the Use Value of Workers’ Labor Power

I conclude by turning to Don’s discussion of use values within the biographical processes of social reproduction. Don writes about the place of use-values within social reproduction in an insightful and even moving way – but in my view, too abstractly, ungrounded, and in need of more incisive elaboration toward movement building on the left:

“What we need to develop is an idea of use value as those material and immaterial values embedded in the standards, activities, sites, and essential relationships of our daily as well as long-term social reproduction. You can call them relational use values. We should look at this type of use value dynamically and perceptually. Biographies, collective and individual, are to a considerable extent about the production, reproduction, and indeed accumulation of use values within a shared commons… Accumulation of such relational use values is often experienced as a form of belonging [and]… encapsulates something like social ‘personhood.’ Use value, so conceived, is much of what moves us and what makes us move as we try to produce a life worth living” (Kalb 2025:28).

In the interest of dialogue, based on reflections from the Clarketon Garden project, I offer three provocations about Don’s characterization of use values and social reproduction.

First, it is imperative to distinguish the labors of social reproduction that “function” for capitalism (Weiss 2022) from those that do not (or primarily do not) when workers exert their labor power for their own autonomous practices of commons-making, sharing and care for others outside their time working for capital. An all too common functionalism that assumes that processes of social reproduction “function” only on behalf of capital is vastly different from Marx’s dialectical approach that insists on the two-sided examination of mutual interactions and reciprocal effects between phenomena (Ollman 1993: 31-38, 134-137).

Second, Don writes, we should look at use values within workers’ social reproduction “dynamically and perceptually.” Thus we must consider the use value of their own autonomous labor power within the simultaneous temporal registers of their biographies and the history of capitalism as working people not only transform the material world, but also themselves, leading them to have new needs – needs they become aware of, but that the violence of capitalist exploitation and expropriation denies them from satisfying.

Lastly, a major objective of Marxist-informed ethnography should be to carefully identify how working people respond to capitalist outrages by forming new solidarities among themselves as they collectively discover their new shared needs, learn how to consume together, make commons, and seek to produce surplus outside capitalist control by drawing on their own living labor in long-term projects that build the social movements of the left.


Don Nonini is Professor Emeritus of Anthropology, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. His research interests include class and state formation in colonial and postcolonial Malaysia, and class and racial politics in the Southern U.S. He is currently working on a book on racial capitalism and its ecopolitics.


References

Kalb, D. and M. Mollona (2018). Worldwide mobilizations : Class struggles and urban commoning. New York: Berghahn Books

Kalb, D. (2024). “Tilly reversed? Another cycle of labor and socialism is possible.” International Labor and Working-Class History: 1–9.

Kalb, D. (2025). Value and worthlessness: The rise of the Populist right and other disruptions in the anthropology of capitalism. New York, Berghahn.

Lebowitz, M. (2003) Beyond Capital: Marx’s Political Economy of the Working Class. (2nd ed.). Houndmills, UK and New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Marx, K. (1976). Capital : A critique of political economy (Volume 1), with an Introduction by Eugene Mandel, translated by Ben Fowkes. London and New York, Penguin Books.

Nonini, D. (2026). “The Trumpist movement: A class-based counterrevolution against those who would strand the assets of capital? In Backlash: The Global Rise of the Radical Right, D. Kalb and W. Bello, eds. London: Pluto Press, pp. 254-279.

Nonini, D. M. and D. Holland (2024). Food Activism Today: Sustainability, Climate Change, and Social Justice. New York: New York University Press.

Ollman, B. (1993). Dialectical Investigations. New York: Routledge.

Polanyi, K. The Great Transformation. Boston: Beacon Press.

Susser, I. (2026). The Yellow Vests and the Battle for Democracy Taking to the Streets of Paris in the 21st Century. New York: Routledge.

Weiss, H. (2022 ). “Social reproduction is the reproduction of capitalism.” Focaal—Journal of Global and Historical Anthropology 93: 105–111.

Woods, C. (1998). Development arrested: The blues and plantation power in the Mississippi Delta. London: Verso.


Cite as: Nonini, D. 2026. “How is Workers’ Labor Power “Inside” Yet “Beyond” Capital?” Focaalblog July 7. https://www.focaalblog.com/2026/07/07/don-nonini-how-is-workers-labor-power-inside-yet-beyond-capital/