Published 2 February 1936

Workers of Spain, have you no pride? Are you fit to live in a country which belongs to a monarch who cares not for you unless it is for cannon fodder, and are you fit to work in a factory or office which only cares for you insofar as you may work? Are you food for the cannons? Are you a cog or wrench to be discarded once worn? You are a human being! Alone you will not be recognized, but look around! Are those who work alongside you also not human beings? You are not alone, not even for a second. You live with humans, work with humans, love other humans. A Rich Man, whether he be King of the Land or King of the Factory Floor, does not see you for a human being; at least, not until the you is in plurality.

For centuries it has been this way; First your descendants lived in slavery to the rich man, then in serfdom to the rich man, and now you work under a system of wage domination, subservient still to the rich man. You go to vote, to try to change this by the rich man's rules, but lo; the rich man elects who he sees fit to rule. You walk home, dejected, and the police, controlled by the rich, rough you up and throw you in jail! The rich man takes your home, your money, and then, when you are poor by his hand, will say it is your fault. Meanwhile, your tax money is offered like a bowlful of chocolate by the King to the Rich, who snatch it in fists and chew with their mouths open so you may see what they are doing and know despair as your stomach cries out, you cry out from your soul, for salvation from the government which claimed it was there to take care of you.

The Syndicate, meanwhile, lifts you up, while the Kings of Capital and Country tell you to do it using bootstraps they sell you and which break every time you try to use them. The Syndicate fights the police when they try to harass you. The Syndicate fights for your wages to increase and your hours to decrease. The Syndicate fights against the government which is ruled by those who possess and those who do not. But the Syndicate is powerless, powerless indeed without you; You are the Syndicate. Only you, the working class, can liberate yourself from the shackles imposed upon you. Alone, no man can break his manacles, but together, a hundred men can snap a chain as if it were the thinnest sheet of plywood.

Unity! Unity! The Syndicate makes us strong!