Against fragmentation: the origins of Marxism and the sociology of intellectuals

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AGAINST FRAGMENTATION

AGAINST FRAGMENTATION THE ORIGINS OF MARXISM AND THE SOCIOLOGY OF INTELLECTUALS

ALVIN W. GOULDNER

New York Oxford OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 1985

Oxford University Press Oxford London New York Toronto D elhi Bombay Calcutta Madras Karachi Kuala Lum pur Singapore Hong Kong Tokyo N airobi Dar es Salaam Cape Tow n Melbourne Auckland Beirut

and associated companies in Berlin Ibadan Mexico C ity

Nicosia

Copyright © 1985 by Janet W . Gouldner Published by Oxford U niversity Press, Inc., 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 A ll rights reserved. N o part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, w ithout the prior permission of Oxford U niversity Press. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Gouldner, A lvin W ard, 1920-1981 Against fragmentation. Includes index. 1. Communism and intellectuals—History—19th century. 2. Communism and society—H istory—19th century. 3. Communism—H istory—19th century. 4. Antisemitism—Germany—H istory—19th century. 5. M arx, Karl, 1818-1883. I* T itle . HX528.G68 1983 335.4 82*22400 IS B N 0-19-503303*5

P rinting (last d ig it):

987654321

Printed in the U nited States of America

1 walk among men as among the fragments of the future—that future which I envisage. A nd this is all my creating and striving, that 1 create and carry together into one what is fragment and riddle and dreadful accident. Nietzsche

Preface

In his preface to The Two Marxisms, A lvin Gouldner projected an addi­ tional three volumes to complete the sustained critique of Marxism he had promised in The Coming Crisis of Western Sociology. These vol­ umes were to deal w ith, respectively, post-Marxist Marxists, the technical and sociohistorical origins of Marxism, and the rationality and lim its of Marxism. Clearly, he had revised his intention to w rite separate volumes on the origins of Marxism and on its rationality and lim its, because this book collapses the originally distinct treatments into one volume. It is a study of how the social, political, historical, theoretical, and cultural ori­ gins of Marxism shaped both its creative rationality and—simultaneously— the lim its to that rationality. Here Gouldner combines the close textual reading and social history characteristic of The Tw o Marxisms w ith the theory of discourse he had elaborated in The Dialectic of Ideology and Technology and the class analysis of The Future of Intellectuals and the Rise of the New Class. He is thereby able to grasp Marxism as a totality: as a politics, as an ideological discourse, as a culture, as an organization, and as a class project. A t the same time he returns to themes from The Dialectic and The Future of Intellectuals w ith in the context of a study of a specific politics and class ideology. Against Fragmentation applies resources de­ veloped by Gouldner over the last decade to the topic of Marxism. It also allows us to appraise those resources as effective means to understanding the sources of both M arxist rationality and irrationality, and reinserts the accomplishments of earlier work into the project on Marxism. The

V lll

PREFACE

third and final volume of that project is currently in preparation and w ill comprise a study of post-Marxists, including Lenin, Stalin, Lukacs, Gramsci, Sorel, Mao, and Althusser. Something should also be said of Gouldner s longer-range project which this particular volume fits into but does not complete. T his project in ­ spired him all his days: Sociology, he said, was to reclaim society for man. He never lost faith in the importance of sociology as an enterprise despite its academic vicissitudes and trivializations, but it was not for the technicians, social or others, that social science was to be developed. I t was to establish a liberative understanding of the social totality that could mitigate against the fragmentation of modem everyday life. Gouldner saw Marxism as one such attempt: a project inspired in its analysis of reality by a vision of the larger context but ultim ately flawed in its ability to return society to man. He felt that inherent in all “ grand” systems—systems attempting a noble holism as Marxism did—is the ever­ present danger of succumbing to discontinuity, to forgetting, to frag­ mentation. Whereas this present work is an account of how such frag­ mentation occurred in Marxism—keeping the whole beyond its reach—it is fin a lly a call to social theory, personified in a community of critical theorists, to become the agent to develop a cognitive rationality capable at last of treading the delicate path between recovery and holism. Thus, it was Gouldner’s belief, would society be reclaimed for man. A t the time of Gouldner s death, Against Fragmentation was substan­ tia lly completed w ith the exception of final editing and a final organiza­ tional plan. W e have lim ited our editorial involvement to im proving syn­ tax and grammar, deleting obviously repetitious passages, and providing a logical internal organization. The latter entailed both ordering the chap­ ters and dividing the book into sections. The text is Gouldner s; its or­ ganization, to the extent he had le ft ambiguities, is ours. Karen G. Lucas, aside from her substantive contribution, had assisted Gouldner w ith research for parts of the book and had discussed it w ith him at length. H er active editorial involvement, amplified by her knowl­ edge of Gouldner’s original intentions, have been invaluable in producing the present text. W e wish especially to thank M ary Grove, Gouldner s long-time secretary and friend, who persevered in deciphering, typing, and retyping this text in the most trying of times. St. Louis, Missouri October 1984

Janet G ouldner C ornelis D isco

Contents

I Marxism and the Intellectuals 1 T h e Social O rigins o f M arxism 2 M arxism as P olitics o f the N e w Class

3 28

II The Ecology of Marxism 3 Popular M aterialism and the O rigins o f M arxism 4 T h e B inary Fission o f Popular M aterialism 5 Artisans and Intellectuals: Socialism and the R evolution o f 1848 6 M arx's F inal B attle: B akunin and the First In te rn a tio n a l 7 M a rx vs. B a kunin: Paradoxes o f Socialist P olitics

55 72 88 141 171

III Against Fragmentation 8 M a rx in to M a rxist: T h e C onfron ta tio n o f Theoretical Resources A ppendix: O n C re a tivity—Karen G. Lucas 9 Enslavem ent: T h e M e ta p h o rica lity o f M arxism A ppendix: Paleosymbolism and the T h e o ry o f Discourse

193 212 220 235

CONTENTS

10 Recovery: T h e R a tio n a lity o f M arxism , I 11 H o lism : T h e R a tionality o f M arxism , I I 12 D ialectic o f Recovery and H o lism

240 262 284

Notes Index

301 323

I Marxism and the Intellectuals

1 The Social Origins of Marxism

The historical and social origins of Marxism are tangled in a stubborn paradox, whose importance is not diminished by its obviousness: M arx­ ism's proletarian communism begins in the theoretical work of two very advantaged sons of the well-to-do. It arises out of their privileged educa­ tion, reading, leisure, and critical independence—another class privilege.1 Is it too harsh to characterize M arx and Engels as “ bourgeois” and, in particular, M arx and his fam ily who suffered so greatly from material want:* I f we use the term “ bourgeois”—as nineteenth-century romantics had used it—to denote a mediocrity of taste and feeling (thus equating it w ith philistinism ), such a judgment would be patently ridiculous. Yet there is no reason to degrade the meaning of bourgeois to a mere gesture of contempt. W e may use “ bourgeois” more exactingly to mean an his­ torical social type who organizes a “private” life around personal achieve­ ment and the fam ily: the father is expected to do disciplined and routine work and to live a family-centered existence devoted to the well-being of his fam ily, especially the children; the bourgeois fam ily itself is not a working but a consuming and socializing center under paternal domination and protection; consumption and proper education of the children aim to enable them to (a t least) reproduce the parents' level of education and material comfort; the fam ily’s level of consumption and the children’s education serve to give public evidence—to “ keep up ap­ pearances”—of independence of character, fam ily self-maintenance and respectability, and of the father’s competence. Although the father rou­ tinely expends time in achievement efforts, the fam ily’s level of com3

4

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

fort, education, and well-being relies upon more than his current wages; it commonly depends also on a reserve of money—whether their own savings or unearned incomes from rents, interests, or profits, and (paren­ tal or fa m ily) inheritances, loans, gifts, and subsidies. This level of com­ fort is publicly taken as, and is meant to communicate, the fam ily’s claim to public respect. “ Bourgeois,” then, is partly a fam ily and social­ izing thing; it is also partly a money thing defined by access to a surplus above what is earned through wages; and it is partly a moral and ideo­ logical thing. How do M arx and Engels qualify in terms of this “ ideal type” bourgeois? Certainly, no one has ever doubted that that beautiful man, Engels— son of a m ultinational cotton manufacturer and him self one—who gen­ erously supported M arx for much of his adult life , was a bourgeois. Or, at any rate, Engels was as much bourgeois as a bachelor can ever be­ come in a bourgeois society. In effect, he had adopted M arx’s fam ily as his own and it was only “ in 1896 that Engels threw off the servitude to commerce he had voluntarily entered upon 19 years before in order to support and further M arx’s work.” 2 Even after M arx’s death in 1883, Engels continued to support the M arx fam ily u n til his own death in 1895. The “ ever-laughing Engels,” as Paul Lafargue once called him , was “ an enthusiastic rider to hounds, a m ighty walker and deep drinker . . . of an equable temper, a man w ith a tender and chivalrous regard for women, turning a blind eye to the imperfections of those who succes­ sively held the reins of his household.” 3 N o petty-bourgeois, Engels’s tastes were upper class. For most of their life in England, the M arx fam ily lived in an essen­ tia lly petty-bourgeois manner, even though M arx refused routine em­ ployment, was reliant upon Engels’s support, and often lived above his meager means. In 1856 the fam ily moved to 9 Grafton Terrace, a small house in a then newly developed suburb of London; from that time on, this was about the poorest housing the fam ily would have. It was a three-storied house w ith eight small rooms, balconies, stone coping and balastrade. It still stands today, now, however, “occupied by several families.”4 One has but to consult Engels’s own account of the condition of the English working class to see there is no question that the M arx fam ily lived incomparably better than the masses of English workers. This may have also been the sour judgment of some of M arx’s own acquaintances, to whom he responded: “ ‘Even if I were to reduce my expenses to the utmost, . . . by, for example, removing the children from school, go­ ing to live in a strictly working-class dwelling, dismissing the servants and livin g on potatoes,’ the sale of the furniture would not realise enough

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

5

to satisfy his creditors, w hile such drastic steps could have dangerous consequences for his w ife in her nervous state and were hardly suitable for his growing girls,” to whom he was the most devoted of fathers. Even as the family's water and gas supply was cut off for non-payment, M arx would w rite desperate letters about it “ to the accompaniment of Laura and Jenny singing delightful duets at the piano, having made good prog­ ress w ith their music lessons . . . w hile there were now two servants to wait upon the family. . . .” 5 Among the clearest expressions of the bourgeois character of revolu­ tionary Marxists, and how these are adjusted to the special tastes of the well educated, are Rosa Luxemburg's poignant letters to her lover, Leo Jogiches. In a letter from Berlin, March 6, 1899, she writes: Soon Til have such a strong moral position here that we’ll be able to live quietly together, openly, as husband and wife! . . . I felt happiest about the part of your letter in which you wrote that we are both still young and able to arrange our personal life. Oh, Dyodyo, my golden one, if only you kept your promise! . . . Our own small apartment, our own nice furniture, our own library; quiet and regular work, walks together, an opera from time to time, a small, very small, circle of friends, who can sometimes be invited for dinner; every year a summer vacation in the country, one month with absolutely no work! . . . And perhaps even a little, a very little baby? . . . And we w ill never fight at home, w ill we? Our home must be quiet and peaceful, like everyone else's . . . Dyodyo if only you settled your citizenship, finished your doctorate, lived with me openly in our own home, and we both worked, our life would be 'perfect!6 In some respects, Luxemburg was more bourgeois than M arx, for earning her own income was im portant to her, and indeed one wonders whether the follow ing letter of A p ril 19, 1899, was not a silent repri­ mand of M arx himself: You think my plans to earn money threaten my scholarly and political future. You're wrong. I'd need more time to explain; anyhow it isn't all that bad. I, for one, follow the principle: people's primary concern is to support themselves and their children or their parents, and next to think of becoming great scholars. Besides—sind’s Rosen, nun sie werden bluhen [if these are real roses, they'll bloom]. No genuine talent ever flourished just because it devoted all its time to self-development.7 The above was w ritten just one day after Luxemburg had finished the introduction to her famous polemic against Eduard Bernstein's revision­ ism, Reform or Revolution?, in which she maintains that “ the theory formulated by Bernstein, is nothing else than an unconscious attempt to

6

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

assure the predominance to the petty-bourgeois elements that have en­ tered our Party. . . .” 8 The underside of an “ intransigent” and revolu­ tionary public politics was thus, often enough, a private life dominated by the most temperate bourgeois aspirations and tastes. In noting this, I do not intend to unmask the “ hypocrisy” of revolu­ tionary intellectuals, who are surely no more hypocritical than any other social stratum. M y object, rather, is to make a sociological point con­ cerning the nature o f the social group that conceived and shaped M arx­ ism. It tells us—quite apart from their public pronouncements and selfunderstandings—what they wanted and who they were; it alerts us to lim its in their social theory that m ight otherwise be invisible; it helps us to understand Marxism itself. From the standpoint of M arx’s and Engels’s own Marxism, which in ­ sisted that social consciousness is determined by social being, their own accomplishment must seem a sociological miracle. To decipher this eerie transformation of elites into elite-devouring revolutionaries w ill require us to essay the rudiments of a sociology of intellectuals and intelligentsia, i.e., of the New Class. It is only in this social stratum, seen in its his­ torical specificity, that we may adequately comprehend the class sources of Marxism. O nly in this comprehension may we construct a critique of Marxism which escapes the lim its of that class’s self-understanding and goes beyond Marxism’s origins. O nly by such a critique can we identify the ultim ate curbs on Marxism’s reflexivity and its vulnerability to false consciousness. There is little reason to expect M arx and Engels to say much about the origins of their own theory beyond acknowledging their intellec­ tual debts. Yet there is more to this silence than the healthy unself­ consciousness of two active men. For not only do they manifest a “nor­ mal” reticence to dwell on themselves, but they also have surprisingly little to say about the radicalization o f intellectuals in general, about the entire social stratum o f which they are a part, about how that social stra­ tum becomes involved w ith the proletariat, socialism, revolution, and what this m ight mean. They do speak to this question but only hur­ riedly, en passant, as a kind of obligation to cover the topic; and the lit­ tle they have to say is sharply anomalous w ith the main thrust of their own argument.

The Anomaly of Revolutionary Intellectuals The intellectuals who enter M arx’s and Engels’s commentary are, for the most part, seen as members of the ru lin g class, or as the learned but all too pliable ideologues of the bourgeoisie. T hat intellectuals could plausi-

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

7

bly be taken for members of tbe ruling class reminds us that the expan­ sion and modernization of higher education had then only begun and was indeed still the privileged province of a very few. Even the rich in this period m ight forgo the university education of their sons (not to mention their daughters!), fearing that advanced education m ight unsuit them for business. For the most part, however, M arx and Engels correctly saw intellectuals as uniquely privileged persons who, if not ac­ tually outright members of the ruling class, were often their companions, allies, or kin. Yet their very emphasis on the upper-class character of intellectuals must have created dissonance. For however much M arx and Engels em­ phasized that the emancipation of the proletariat was to be a selfemancipation, they surely glimpsed that it was incongruous that this should be heralded by sons of the well-to-do. The incongruity between Marx's and Engels's own class background and of those they claimed to represent, was real and painful and it helps us understand why they said so little about intellectuals in general and revolutionary intellectuals in particular. The communists have nothing to hide, said the Communist Manifesto. N othing but the fact that they were bourgeois intellectuals. The Manifesto contains a few fam iliar formulations about this matter that are typically oblique and fugitive: “ Entire sections of the ruling classes are, by the advance of industry, precipitated into the proletariat, or are at least threatened in their conditions of existence. These also supply the proletariat w ith fresh elements of enlightenment and progress.” 9 The logic seemed to be: when declassed, the bourgeoisie bring their greater education w ith them and can thus contribute to the enlightenment of the proletariat. The im plication is that education is (somehow) per se a force for enlightenment and progress, at least when no longer compro­ mised by privilege. I f this sector of the bourgeoisie does not do what others m ight when threatened (th a t is, become the workers' enemy), the assumption seems to be that education can be separated from conditions that lim it its capacity to emancipate. This would im ply a certain capac­ ity for higher education to serve class interests offosed to those of the bourgeoisie. The importance of education and of theory in facilitating this transi­ tion of the bourgeoisie is also plainly indicated in the Manifesto: “ when the class struggle nears the decisive hour, the process of dissolution go­ ing on w ith in the ruling class, in fact, w ith in the whole range of old so­ ciety, assumes such a violent, glaring character that a small section of the ru lin g class cuts itself adrift, and joins the revolutionary class, the class that holds the future in its hands.” W h y do they become class renegades? So that they can be identified

8

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

w ith the historical future? But why doesn't the entire ruling class— allegedly doomed—go over to the revolutionary class? W hy only a 'sm all section" of it? W hat distinguishes this small section from the main body of the ruling class? The answer to this last, at any rate, is stated clearly in the Manifesto: "a portion of the bourgeoisie goes over to the proletariat, and in particu­ lar, a portion of the bourgeois ideologists, who have raised themselves to the level of comprehending theoretically the historical movements as a whole." One difference, then, between those members of the ruling class who become radicalized—and those who do not—is related to their edu­ cation in general and to their theoretical comprehension of history in particular: they can better foresee the end of their class, and thus where their future interests lie. M uch the same observation is made in The German Ideology which observes that "in the development of productive forces there comes a stage at which . . . a class is called forth . . . which forms the major­ ity of all members of society and from which emanates the consciousness of the necessity of a fundamental revolution, the communist conscious­ ness, which may, of course, arise among other classes too through the contemplation of the situation of this class."10 Those possessing the abil­ ity or education for this theoretical contemplation, intellectuals, may thus become radicalized simply by "contemplating" the condition of the proletariat. Several prelim inary comments may be made about these essentially "idealistic" views: ( i ) They are brief and fugitive glosses, especially considering the importance of the issue. (2 ) Surprisingly, they are also at variance w ith the central and materialist theme usually argued, in both The German Ideology and the M anifesto, namely, that conscious­ ness is determined by class being. From this standpoint, the bourgeoisie should be uniform ly opposed to, rather than going over to, the prole­ tariat, and intellectuals, being upper class, should share this bourgeois consciousness rather than one sympathetic to the proletariat. (3 ) It is unclear, however, exactly why theoretical contemplation leads the bour­ geoisie to go over to the proletariat. Though cryptic, the image suggests that theoretical contemplation enables intellectuals to foresee who is des­ tined to w in and, being self-interested, they choose to be on the w inning side. (Largely seen as a cerebral process, it is much akin to August Comte s view of how his own new sociology would facilitate social evo­ lution: i.e., a reasonable man does not attempt to oppose what is fore­ ordained by social evolution, as foreseen by scientific theory.) Thus when M arx speaks of the radicalization of intellectuals as produced by contemplating the condition of the proletariat, he is not alluding to the

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

9

compassion evoked by the sight of their suffering, but to the prevision provided by theory that leads the intelligentsia to a calculating strategic decision rather than a moral obligation. M arx correctly noted that some intellectuals went over to the prole­ tariat, but mistakenly assumed that they did this only in the final hours of the class struggle. He saw them only as responding to a prior dissolu­ tion of the class system, rather than as contributing im portantly to it. He glimpsed that the possession of education and theory distinguished those in the upper class who went over from those who did not, but he never systematically asked how education produced that difference. He realized that higher education m ight transform consciousness in ways at variance w ith upper-class interests and he noted that advanced education and the bourgeoisie were at odds under certain conditions. These observations, however, were anomalous and contradicted his own dominant theoreti­ cal commitments; he could not therefore take his observations as seri­ ously as they deserved and they were left undeveloped. M arx’s social theory had normally held that “ the ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas: i.e., the class, which is the ruling material force in society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force.” But if “ the class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental pro­ duction,” 11 the system of higher education cannot produce a conscious­ ness hostile to the ruling class and its social order.

Intellectuals and the E nglish Paradigm M arx’s neglect of intellectuals also rests on another sociological assump­ tion, namely, that of all the classes that “stand face to face w ith the bourgeoisie today, the proletariat alone is a really revolutionary class. The other classes decay finally and disappear in the face of modem in ­ dustry; the proletariat is its special and essential product.” 12 In this frame­ work intellectuals could either be a pliable part of the ruling bourgeoisie or a declining class w ithout a future. M arx systematically ignored a third possibility: that far from being a declining class, intellectuals were a growing one, growing by reason of an industrial rationalization intensi­ fied by economic competition; and that far from simply being a servant of the ruling class and spreading the latter’s consciousness, intellectuals bore an education that under some conditions made their consciousness diverge from and even oppose the bourgeoisie. W h ile M arx recognizes this as a possibility, this is only a peripheral part of his vision of intellec­ tuals. For the most part, M arx ignores the adversary potential of the edu­ cated sector of the bourgeoisie. Rather than seeing them actively chal-

IO

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

lenging the bourgeoisie, M arx sees them as deserting the bourgeoisie only when the latter are on their last legs and doing so prim arily out of interested egoism, i.e., defending “ not their present, but their future in ­ terests” in view of their own impending transfer into the proletariat.13 This is strange because it was perfectly evident to the young Engels that the philosophical communism to which he was drawn in 1843 was recruiting largely from the educated: It w ill appear very singular to Englishmen, that a party which aims at the destruction of private property, is chiefly made up by those who have property; and yet this is the case in Germany. We can recruit our ranks from those classes only which have enjoyed a pretty good education; that is, from the universities and from the commercial classes; and in either we have not hitherto met with any considerable difficulty.14 Clearly, such an experience should have sensitized Marx's and Eng­ els's expectation of the rebel potential of the educated and of intellec­ tuals. T hat it did not was partly a function of their own “ m aterialist'' commitments that repressed such an anticipation. It was also partly due to the shifting of their base of operations from Germany (and from the Continent more generally)—which had revealed this adversary potential of the educated—to England where the educated were under the hege­ mony of a still culturally influential aristocracy and successful middle class and thus did not in fact manifest the same alienation as Continen­ tal intellectuals. W hen Engels was sent to work in England he was soon struck by the difference between the educated classes there, in contrast w ith those in Germany to whom he had been accustomed. He observed that Chartism in England had no follow ing among the educated but only among the workers: England exhibits the noteworthy fact [declared Engels] that the lower a class stands in society and the more “uneducated,” in the usual sense of the word, the closer is its relation to progress and the greater is its fu­ ture . . . in England the educated and the learned elements have been deaf and blind to the signs of the times for three hundred years.15 It was the English experience of economic development that became Engels's paradigm of industrial capitalism and on which he focused his economic analyses, supposing that England foreshadowed the future of other nations. It was partly because England had an advanced industrial economy that its correspondingly powerful middle class was, during this period, able to exert hegemony over intellectuals. M arx and Engels had supposed that the socialist future would grow out of precisely such in ­ dustrially advanced societies and, therefore, that socialism's future must depend on the “ backward” proletariat rather than on the “ enlightened”

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

11

classes. M arx expected working-class action to be grounded, in part, in an enlightenment derived from their exploited condition rather than their own small formal education, all the more so as he wrote before the spread of universal public education. There were serious difficulties in this view of intellectuals. First, it did not anticipate the subsequently great spread of education in the ad­ vanced economies. Far from remaining a mere sliver of the bourgeoisie, the “ knowledge” classes were yet to burgeon. In that sense, Marx, too, had come “ too early”—as he had said of Saint-Simon, Owen, and Fourier— and it may be that M arx and Engels were thus only the last of the “ uto­ pian socialists.” Second, M arx underestimated the extent to which the development of an advanced industrial economy facilitated capitalisms hegemony over the proletariat, so that they would not manifest the ex­ pected enlightenment. T h ird , M arx and Engels had supposed that so­ cialism would first emerge in advanced industrial societies when, in fact, M arxism ’s breakthrough to state power came precisely in economies w ith little industrialization, whose moneyed middle classes were politically im ­ mature, whose landlords and aristocracy were de-legitimated and where, therefore, the educated classes or intellectuals had largely escaped the hegemony of other classes and had a freer hand politically. Fourth and finally, M arx and Engels premised that the mature middle classes would have an unbroken hegemony over the intellectuals; at the same time they assumed an intensified class polarization in advanced capitalist economies, alienating the proletariat, freeing them of middle-class hege­ mony and preparing them for a socialist consciousness of their own his­ torical mission. W hat, in fact, happened was the reverse: advanced in ­ dustrial capitalism, as mentioned, exerted increasing hegemony over the consciousness of the proletariat itself, in h ib itin g its socialist conscious­ ness. W h ile the proletariat became pacified by consumerism in advanced capitalism, intellectuals grew in numbers and influence. The spread of advanced public education increased their independence of bourgeois consciousness and gave them a common, character-shaping experience. M arx and Engels had correctly understood the lim its of the eigh­ teenth-century conception of Enlightenm ent, which accented the impor­ tance of formal education for “ reason.” They saw that the “ enlighten­ ment” of even those w ith the most education m ight be lim ited by their class privilege, while correspondingly, that even the working class w ith ­ out formal education m ight be enlightened because of the deprivations of their class position. Rationality was thus not simply a function of for­ mal education, but was seen here as also affected—as curbed or liber­ ated—by a group s class interests. Relative to the lim its of Enlightenm ent thought, this was a powerful insight. Nonetheless, it too was profoundly

12

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

lim ited. Intellectuals’ radicalization was not always inhibited by their bourgeois privileges—which, however, does not mean they were class free—and the working class’s enlightenment was not fostered by its class deprivations, as the theory had supposed. In some appreciable part, then, M arx’s and Engels’s use of the En­ glish case as the paradigm of their political economy had misled them into an over-reliance on the proletariat as the historical agent destined to bring socialism forth, and into an underestimate of the autonomy of the educated and their rebel potential. M arx’s ‘ materialist” assumptions, i.e., his assumption that a group’s “ social being” (n o t its education) would determine its consciousness, contributed greatly to his underestimation of the role of intellectuals and inhibited his analysis of their radicalization. This materialism had emerged from a polemic against the reigning academic philosophy of the time, Hegel’s objective idealism, which took the unfolding of conscious­ ness, the Spirit or Geist, as history’s central process and this as selfunfolding. M arx’s materialism was rooted in his rejection of the decontextualizing idea that consciousness is autonomous; his polemical focus aimed at revealing the social and especially the class forces that lim it and shape consciousness and its bearers and thus did not recognize in ­ tellectuals as a distinct class. The materialist critique of the autonomy of consciousness was thus conducive to a neglect of intellectuals’ historical role, and they came to be seen prim arily as adjuncts to other, more sub­ stantial social groups, i.e., to “ actual” classes (as M arx called them in the iS th Brumaire), lacking a sociological reality and special needs of their own. M arxism ’s revolt against the dominant idealism, and its own economistic conception of “classes,” had the effect of obscuring the role of theorists and intellectuals in Marxism, of making Socialist discussion of this an uneasy one, u n til these ambivalences were decisively cast off by Lenin.

T h e M a rxist C ritiq u e o f W o rke r Intellectuals It was not only the materialist critique of idealism that produced un­ comfortable silences about theorists; so, too, did the very doctrine of the “ unity of theory and practice” to which Marxism gave special force. I f Marxism affirmed the special role of the proletariat, the latter was clearly expected to fu lfill its historical mission when freed from bondage to the status quo, and this required that the proletariat submit itself to the tu­ telage of theory. But how can the working class submit itself to the tute­ lage of theory w ithout at the same time subm itting itself to the authority of theorists and intellectuals, which is dissonant w ith M arxism ’s claim

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

!3

that its socialism involves the self-emancipation of the working class:* It is because Marxism faces both ways—on the one side, stressing the im ­ portance of working-class self-emancipation; and, on the other, accenting the significance of theory for socialism—that it develops a double ambiva­ lence: it is uneasy about the intellectuals role in a working-class move­ ment, and it is also uncomfortable about the working class's intellectual adequacy for its historical task. Indeed, M arx and Engels were greatly uneasy about workers' theoreti­ cal creativity (although not their receptivity). W ritin g to Sorge from London on October 19, 1877, M arx observed that workers who ‘ give up work and become professional literary men, always set some theoretical mischief going and are always ready to attach themselves to some mud­ dle-heads from the alleged ‘learned' caste." It was in this vein, as w ill soon be shown, that one of the first to be purged from the young Marx's revolutionary circles for his theoretical ignorance was W ilhelm W eitling, one of the few having authentically working-class origins. Marx's attitude toward the working-class auto-didact philosopher Eu­ gene Dietzgen was also harsh and condescending. In a letter to Engels of October 4, 1868, M arx held that in his opinion “ Dietzgen would do best to condense all his ideas into two printer's sheets and have them published under his own name as a tanner." W h ile Engels's reply of November 6, 1868, seems more generous, he too expressed the suspicion that the best part of Dietzgen's work was not his own: “if one could be sure that he had discovered it for him self." Marxism's impulse to gloss over the presence and importance of theo­ rist-intellectuals in its own ranks is nonetheless based on certain very real difficulties. For on which theorists could they rely) Given their own assumptions, they could rely neither upon the auto-didacts among the workers—whom they chastise for their susceptibility to the “ muddleheads among the alleged ‘learned' caste," in short, academicians—nor could Marxism rely on these academicians themselves. I f theorists are working class in origin and training, Marxism fears they w ill have the crudity of auto-didacts, a provincial narrowness, and the vulgar suscepti­ bilities of the parvenu to the merely fashionable. Yet if theorists are trained academicians, Marxism fears their accommodation to respectable careers in the University or C iv il Service, their middle-class origins, and the seductions of the comfortable life to which they may be exposed.

T h e D istrust o f Intellectuals There is, then, this ineluctable contradiction in Marxism: for it, theory is absolutely necessary for social transformation, yet theorists may not be

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

trusted. From M arx to Mao, that contradiction is exhibited in a con­ tinuing distrust of intellectuals and in a corresponding self-effacement among M arxist intellectuals. Given this distrust of intellectuals, however, upon whom may Marxism then rely for the cumulative development of M arxist theory itself, so necessary to enable it to adjust to changing his­ torical circumstances? Marxism's relation to theorists, then, is profoundly ambivalent: it needs but cannot trust intellectuals and theorists. Marxism begins to cope w ith these ambivalences by disguising its de­ pendence upon theorist-intellectuals, and it does this in a specific way: by stressing the value of “ theory” but saying little about the theorists who make the theory. Marxism's “ u n ity of theory and practice” is objectivistic, saying nothing about the u n ity of intellectuals and working class, about the social strata through which theory and practice are to be unified. W hy? The young M arx had briefly let the cat out of the bag. He had ob­ served, in his C ritique of the Hegelian Philosophy of Right, that philos­ ophy was to be the “ head” of the revolution, w hile the proletariat was to be its “heart.” This organismic metaphor premises the smooth integra­ tion, as if they were two organs of one body, of intellectuals and work­ ers. A t the same time, however, this particular organismic metaphor has the fatal flaw of intim ating all too clearly the hierarchical relationship between them. For however much head and heart are m utually depen­ dent, there is small doubt which M arx thought the proper ruler. Indeed organismic metaphors commonly serve to occlude the reality of domina­ tion, hiding blunt subjugation by redefining it as polite “ interdepen­ dence.” In sum, Marxism at first sought to muffle the jarring presence of middle-class intellectuals in rude working-class movements by speak­ ing more of theory than of theorists or intellectuals, and by flirtin g w ith organismic metaphor.

Intellectuals and Vanguard Party In vaunting theory while suspecting the theorist, Marxism plainly im ­ plied that a special sort of theorist would be needed to enact its version of socialism. Since neither workers nor academicians could be relied upon as theorists, a very special theorist would have to be created, along w ith the sociological infrastructure that could reproduce them. The in ­ strument to accomplish this task was the “ vanguard party,” which achieved its fullest self-conscious form ulation w ith Lenin's organization of the Bolshevik Party and in the organizational code he laid down for it in W hat Is To Be Done? It is a latent function of the Bolshevik vanguard to overcome the contradiction between Marxism's insistence on the neces-

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

15

sity of theory and its critique of theorists. More than that, the vanguard party functions to resolve Marxism's double ambivalence, toward the proletariat no less than toward intellectuals who construct the needed theory, calling a halt to discussion for its own sake. The function of the vanguard, then, cannot be understood (except m ythically) simply as a response to the proletariat's needs. The vanguard is surely not expressive of the proletariat's 'natu ra l" consciousness which, as Lenin noted, was prim arily that of a trade-union economism intent on improved livin g standards. In one part, the vanguard serves to trans­ m it the socialist theory created by intellectuals to the proletariat, thus serving in effect as an organizational instrument through which the New Class of intellectuals exerts ideological influence over the proletariat. That, on the one side. On the other, however, the vanguard is also an instrument for controlling and transforming intellectuals themselves. That the vanguard functions as a control system over radicalized in ­ tellectuals was apparent in Lenin’s early drive to define Party members as consisting only of those who accepted the discipline of some party unit. The historically evolving "autonomy" of intellectuals ceased as they enter the country of the vanguard. If, in part, the vanguard is a way of extricating intellectuals from respectable institutions and bour­ geois culture, it does not replace this influence w ith proletarian control but w ith a third force, that of the Party itself. The vanguard is the po­ litical instrument of a segment of alienated intellectuals. Like a kind of Alcoholics Anonymous, in which one member helps the other "kick the habit," the vanguard helps intellectuals surrender discourse as an end in itself, defining this as "mere talk" that needs to be subordinated to real « . >> praxis. Yet, however much the vanguard party expresses an effort to bring intellectuals under control, it also remains unmistakably clear that its criteria for leadership call for exceptional manifestation of intellectual competence and theoretical sophistication. The important leaders of Communist parties have diligently striven to present their intellectual credentials and given untold hours to systematic study and to w riting. Communist leaders are expected to be learned men, at least to the extent of knowing the M arxist classics. And it is not only socialist intellectuals such as Plekhanov, Trotsky, Bukharin, or Gramsci who devote them­ selves to substantial intellectual efforts and work but also great organizers such as Mao Tse-tung and even Stalin him self—the arch foe of Bolshe­ vik intellectualism —who meticulously presented himself as a communist scholar and arranged to have himself publicly celebrated as a great thinker. It is also notable, in this connection, that Lukacs’s devotional little book on Lenin was at great pains to deny that Lenin was a mere

i6

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

organizer; Lukacs insisted repeatedly he had also been a superb theorist. In effect, the vanguard party is the collective holding company, the organizer and integrator of the political interests of radicalized intellec­ tuals. It is a political instrument that reduces intellectuals’ political de­ pendence on the urban masses. Rather than being like the Jacobin Club, w ith an ad hoc forum and irregular following, the vanguard provides in ­ tellectuals w ith an ongoing organizational base which it controls, thus mediating the influence of intellectuals on masses. Being, however, also a system of controls over the intellectuals themselves, the vanguard thus also alienates them from the very organizational instrument they cre­ ated. The fullest development of this alienation of the New Class intel­ ligentsia from their own vanguard instrument is Stalinism. In its Leninist beginnings, however, the vanguard is unmistakably the instrument w ith which the radicalized intellectuals impress a version of socialist theory upon the proletariat. In W hat Is To Be Done? Lenin insisted that the working class did not by itself achieve a socialist con­ sciousness but had to have this brought to it by the intelligentsia. A l­ though discussed in a later chapter the matter is o f such moment both theoretically and historically, that I shall quote here from Lenin’s argu­ ment: Those who are in the least acquainted with the actual state of our move­ ment cannot but see that the spread of Marxism was accompanied by a certain deterioration of theoretical standards. Quite a number of people, with very little, and even totally lacking in, theoretical training, joined the movement for the sake of its practical significance and its practical successes. . . . The history of all countries shows that the working class, exclusively by its own efforts, is able to develop only trade-union consciousness. . . . The theory of socialism, however, grew out of the philosophic, historical and economic theories that were elaborated by the educated representatives of the propertied classes, the intellectuals . . . Marx and Engels them­ selves belong to the bourgeois intelligentsia. . . . To supplement what has been said above, we shall quote the following profoundly true and important utterances by Karl Kautsky. . . . "Many of our revisionist critics believe that Marx asserted that economic devel­ opment and the class struggle create, not only conditions for Socialist production, but also, and directly, the consciousness (K.K/s italics) of its necessity. . . . But this is absolutely untrue. . . . Modern socialist con­ sciousness can arise only on the basis of profound scientific knowledge. . . . the vehicles of science are not the proletariat, but the bourgeois intelligentsia (K.K/s italics). . . . Socialist consciousness is something

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

17

introduced into the proletarian class struggle from without . . . and not something that arose spontaneously within it. . . .” 16 It is sometimes held that Lenin later relented in his elitist subordina­ tion of the working class to the intelligentsia, but the evidence for this is slight and unconvincing. Most important, however, there is no evidence that Lenin ever sought to revise the organizational code of the Bolshevik Party in which these early elitist premises were embedded. W h ile it is clear that the day-to-day operations by the early Bolshevik Party, espe­ cially during the brief and fluid revolutionary period in 1917, exhibited considerable openness to popular pressure, it is equally clear that this did not last long. Very shortly after the Revolution, the party began that increasing rigidification that ultim ately laid the organizational ground­ work for the emergence of Stalinism. It read the threatening events of the C iv il W ar and post-revolutionary struggle through Leninist specta­ cles, and saw them as requiring new lim itations on party democracy and increasing party centralization. G. V. Plekhanov, the founder of the Russian Social Democratic Party and Lenin’s political mentor, in time denounced W hat Is To Be Done?, accusing “ Lenin and his followers of constituting themselves a superintelligentsia.” Plekhanov rejected W hat Is To Be Done? for excluding “socialism from the mass and the mass from socialism [and for hav­ ing] . . . proclaimed the socialist intelligentsia the demiurge of the so­ cialist revolution.” 17 It is notable, however, that Plekhanov’s critique of Lenin’s organiza­ tional model appeared only slowly, indeed, only after Plekhanov had earlier collaborated in efforts to implement it. This reluctance to sepa­ rate him self from Lenin’s views on the intelligentsia’s leading role is un­ derstandable in the lig h t of the fact that Plekhanov himself had earlier held similar views. As Samuel Baron notes, Lenin’s organizational views “ echoed his predecessor’s much more fa ith fu lly than has generally been recognized.” 18 Plekhanov’s theories, too, had earlier placed great impor­ tance on the leading role of the intelligentsia, arguing that the socialist intelligentsia “ must become the leader of the working class in the pro­ jected liberation movement. . . .” 19 In large part, these views were crys­ tallized in the course of Plekhanov’s resistance to Bernstein’s “ revision­ ism” and to the “ economism” that Plekhanov took to be its Russian reflection. Bernstein’s studies of the development of the European econ­ omy had led him to conclude that the “ natural evolution” of the working class would no longer underwrite a socialist outcome. Rather than viewing revisionism and working-class accommodation as grounded in the im-

i8

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

proving life of the working class itself, however, Plekhanov began to de­ fine this as evidencing the failure of certain socialist intelligentsia. Per­ ceiving “ that the working class was less steadfast than he had supposed, he enlarged the role of the intelligentsia, as it were, to redress the balance. . . . He now gave relatively greater weight to the w ill of the intelligentsia as a requisite for socialism than to the ‘natural’ develop­ ment of socialist inclinations among the proletarians.”20 Baron is correct in noting that the historical basis of Plekhanov’s em­ phasis on the intelligentsia’s revolutionary initiative was his rejection of revisionism; yet it would be mistaken to assume that this emphasis had first been brought into Marxism by Plekhanov or that it constituted a subversion of true Marxism. On the contrary. As my own previous re­ marks demonstrate, M arx him self never saw the working class itself as the source of the theory he regarded as indispensable for socialist eman­ cipation. Lenin’s fear that M arxism ’s spread among the working class is “ accompanied by a certain deterioration of theoretical standards” ex­ presses the same denigrating view of the working class’s theoretical in ­ eptitude that we had noted M arx expressing in his 1877 letter to Sorge, as well as in his “ head” and “ heart” metaphor of an earlier period. There is, however, this basic difference: Marxism at that earlier pe­ riod had repressed/suppressed its distrust of the working class’s theoreti­ cal lim its, and had hidden its reliance on the intelligentsia. Leninism was a tru ly different epoch in the history of Marxism partly because this once repressed material now surfaced under his leadership. The differ­ ence, then, was not in their premises about the intelligentsia but was, rather, a difference between the earlier repression and the later open ex­ pression of that premise. In noting the continuity of premises concern­ ing the importance of the intelligentsia in these periods, the point is not that this later surfacing is to be understood simply as an automatic un­ folding of the earlier presence. It required certain specific historical con­ ditions to overcome the in itia l repression and to allow M arxism ’s actual relationship to intellectuals to surface. W hat needs to be stressed, how­ ever, is that Marxism did not only lately develop a special reliance upon intellectuals; this was inherent in it throughout. In short, the class char­ acter of Marxism has not varied since its beginnings; it owes at least as much to the intellectuals’ special interests and culture as to the prole­ tariat to whom it pledged allegiance.

O n the O rigins o f R evolutionary Intellectuals A key intellectual problem remains. W h y and how do these “ representa­ tives of the propertied classes, the intellectuals,” produce a theory that

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

19

seeks the overthrow of the propertied class? There is little or nothing in Kautsky or Lenin to explain how they can escape the normal conscious­ ness of the bourgeoisie and produce another radically opposing it. The whole idea flagrantly violates the key postulate of M arxist materialism, namely, that social being determines social consciousness. Indeed, in Lenin’s comment above there is a visible tendency to regress to an He­ gelian idealism in which ideas produce their own unfolding.t for it de­ scribes social democratic theory as the “natural and inevitable outcome of the development of ideas among the revolutionary Socialist in te lli­ gentsia” (italics added). This contradiction has been of growing concern to contemporary Marxists. The English M arxist Norman Geras, acknowledging that M arx­ ism was produced by bourgeois intellectuals, holds, however, that “ these were not just any bourgeois intellectuals [but] . . . those who linked their fate w ith that of the working class,” and who elaborated their sci­ ence on the basis of “ the experience of exploitation and repression, the experience of the struggle against these realities. . . -”21 Geras raises a legitimate issue in attempting to specify the exact relationship of M arx­ ism to the working class, yet his solution remains unsatisfactory, raising more questions than it answers. If, for example, Marxism was indeed created in the interior of the working class, fa ith fu lly reflecting its ex­ perience, how does it come about that so much of the working class re­ jects it? Again, why do certain intellectuals who, then as now, are w ith ­ out such working-class linkages, accept Marxism? More im portant: if Marxism is the product of intellectuals’ assimilation of proletarian ex­ perience, which particular doctrines of Marxism—e.g., the theory of class conflict, of the contradiction between the forces and relations of production, of alienation, of surplus value—were derived, and in what specific ways, from their experience w ith the proletariat? Geras holds that “ M arx learned from the initiatives of the commu­ nards, of the need of the proletariat to smash the bourgeois state. Lenin learned . . . of the significance of the soviets. M arx learned . . . and Trotsky learned . . . the necessity of permanent revolution.” But in this sense, the oceanographer learns of the oceans from the ocean; the anthropologist learns of incest taboo from studying his tribe—or do they? Geras here drifts into a kind of m irror epistemology, an empiricism, in which the theorist passively reflects what he “ sees.” But obviously, though many socialists studied the Paris Commune, not all concluded that what it taught was the need to smash the bour­ geois state. And did Trotsky get the theory of permanent revolution from the experience of the working class, or from his onetime friend Parvus? And if Lenin had really learned the significance of the soviets from any-

20

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

one, why did he smash them? W hat exactly made M arx’s Marxism a “ theoretical practice interior to the working class movement” ? M arx and Engels were never leaders of working-class parties, nor even editors of socialist newspapers; they were basically respected “ consultants” to vari­ ous working-class movements and parties. They were never on a picket line; they were never factory workers. W hat, then, is the meaning of Gerass Wagnerian phrase, they “ linked their fate” w ith the workers? M arx lived much of his adult life a scholar in libraries, and he died at his desk. As he said, he was “ a machine condemned to devour books.” Engels for his part, could afford livin g well. W hat, then, does this lin kin g of their “ fate” come down to? To two things: first, M arx and Engels had made a commitment to and identified w ith the working class; second, they studied history from the standpoint of its implications for working-class emancipation. But this is a matter of their consciousness, of their theoretical reflection, or, if you w ill, of their “ theoretical practice.” W e are then back to the question: if social being determines social consciousness, where did that consciousness come from; how was it that they could reject their own bourgeois origins, identify w ith the working class, and study history from its standpoint? Marxism remains w ithout an accounting of its own paradoxical class origins. Goran Therbom s effort to confront this problem also acknowledges that the formation of Marxism had depended on bourgeois intellectuals, particularly non-Bohemian, “ radicalized intelligentsia, profoundly alien­ ated from all the reigning powers of the tim e.” 22 But why should bour­ geois intellectuals be alienated from bourgeois society? Therbom con­ curs w ith Geras in emphasizing that the origins of Marxism are grounded in “ the encounter and union between a part of this radicalized in te lli­ gentsia and the working class, which had just embarked on its long history of independent struggle.” 23 Like Gerass, however, this formula­ tion too is littered w ith difficulties. Therbom begs the very question that needs answering; he begins w ith a radicalized intelligentsia, rather than accounting for that radicalization. He simply notes that, hitherto, in te l­ lectuals and the working class were each going their own separate ways and that, for unexplained reasons, M arx and Engels suddenly chose to swerve toward the proletariat. This obscures the fact that it was not just intellectuals who had been going their own way apart from the prole­ tariat, but so, too, had socialists and socialism. As Kautsky mentioned in the remark that Lenin had cited favorably, “socialism and class struggle arise side by side and not one out of the other.” Antonio Carlo sim ilarly notes that “ at first . . . the workers struggled against the capitalists, they organized strikes and unions, while the socialists stood aside from the working class movement, formulated doctrines criticizing the con-

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

21

temporary capitalist bourgeois system of society and demanding its re­ placement by another system/’24 Socialism had thus been rooted originally in a critique of society de­ rived from intellectuals and their own distinct motives, arising quite in ­ dependently of their knowledge of or sympathy for the working-class struggle. As Carlo remarks, “ By directing socialism towards a fusion w ith the working class movement, Karl M arx and Friedrich Engels did their greatest service.” But what were intellectuals’ motives in fusing their so­ cialism w ith the working-class movement? Lenin’s remarks reveal these quite plainly: “ . . . the theories of the socialists, infused w ith the workers’ struggle, remained nothing more than utopias, good wishes that had no effect on real life. . . .”25 The fusion between socialism and working class, then, was motivated by the powerlessness of intellectuals— noting that intellectuals in that period were still a very undeveloped, small stratum. W ith o u t the workers, socialist intellectuals had no social basis w ith which to implement their socialism. Intellectuals, then, needed workers to empower and enact the socialisms they had formulated pre­ viously, not in the “interior ’ of the proletariat hut quite apart from them. But even this form ulation is unsatisfactory for it is essentially idealistic, im plying that all that was involved in their fusion w ith the working class was the intellectuals’ quest to fu lfill their ideas; nothing is yet said about the “material” interests of intellectuals that lead them to socialism and to the working class. I must return to this shortly. Therbom also argues that young German intellectuals were pushed toward a fusion w ith the working class because of the “ abortive bour­ geois revolution.” 26 But if it was their bourgeois origins that had at first disposed intellectuals to support the emerging bourgeois revolutions of 1848, how and why did this induce them to have sympathy for the pro­ letariat? W h y should the latter’s “ atrociously exploited” condition—as Therbom holds—have attracted bourgeois intellectuals? I f these are bour­ geois intellectuals, or, in Therborn’s terms, non-Bohemian (i.e., “ achieve­ ment” oriented) intellectuals, then why isn’t their political ambition satisfied if the bourgeois revolution succeeds, or surrendered, if it fails? W h y do some intellectuals go over to the proletariat when they lose faith in the commitment of the bourgeoisie to their own revolution? W hy should bourgeois intellectuals be more m ilitant than other members of the bourgeoisie? W h y should such intellectuals renounce a betrayed, de­ feated, or stalemated bourgeois revolution and opt instead for a prole­ tarian one? And if they do go over to the proletariat, why don’t such in ­ tellectuals simply treat the proletariat as a useful ally in making the bourgeois revolution, rather than abandoning that revolution altogether? Finally: in going over to the working class, do intelligentsia—as W e itlin g

22

MARXISM AND THE INTELLECTUALS

asked—do so to further proletarian goals or are they coopting the prole­ tariat to further their own goals? W ho is master here? Therbom misses an im portant im plication of the fact that intellectuals may go over to the proletariat follow ing an abortive bourgeois revolution, for this shift implies that the intellectuals have an important measure of independence and can take initiatives in seeking allies in pursuance of their own goals. Intellectuals’ ability to shift to the proletarian revolu­ tion, follow ing failure of the bourgeois revolution, throws new lig h t on the meaning of their earlier commitment to it. I f intellectuals' commit­ ment to the proletariat revolution cannot be explained by their bourgeois character, except in the most fanciful accounting, it may be that they were not even committed to the bourgeois revolution for bourgeois rea­ sons. Therborn obscures the fact that intellectuals have not simply been "agents" but principals capable of "shopping" on their own account, of exploring different social sectors for an historical agent to secure their own goals, seeking this at first among the bourgeoisie and, later when this fails, among the proletariat and, in each case, having their own class ambitions.

Shopping fo r an A gent In Marxism there is a class that is ""summoned"—the proletariat. There is also a ""summons"—the mission to which the class is summoned—the revolution in which capitalism w ill be smashed and the building of so­ cialism w ill begin. Finally, in Marxism there is a summoner announcing the mission of the proletariat and calling upon it to perform its historical duty. The objectivistic character of Marxism, the fundamental lim it on its reflexivity, however, is that it fails to confront the issue of the sum­ moner. It does not systematically confront the question: who speaks Marxism, who originates it, who calls upon the proletariat to perform its historical mission? The objectivism of Marxism is expressed in the myth that the proletariat’s mission is laid upon it by history itself rather than by some social stratum, who present themselves as the confidants of his­ tory. The objectivism of Marxism is expressed in the conflation of these three levels—the summoned, the summons, and the summoner. The function of this conflation is to cloud the fact that the summoned and the summoner are sociologically different—profoundly different. Marxism speaks of the proletariat in an idiom at once sacred and in ­ strumental, characterizing it as the ""historical agent." In other words, the proletariat is said to have a mission it performs on behalf of history. The very notion of an ""historical agency," and the designation of the

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

23

proletariat as such, offers an answer in advance to the question: whose agent is the proletariat? Given this formulation, the obvious reply is that it is the agent of history, thereby making it unnecessary even to ask whether the proletariat is the agent of the intelligentsia. The in te lli­ gentsia obscures its own role by projecting it objectivistically onto “ his­ tory,” placing itself behind the mask of history. To which we must reply w ith Goethe: What spirit of the time you call Is but the scholar's spirit after all. To understand what is involved in assigning this remarkable histori­ cal identity to the proletariat, it must be seen from an historical perspec­ tive; here it is plain that the proletariat was just one in a long series of efforts by secularized intelligentsia to find an “ historical” agent. An his­ torical perspective reveals that intellectuals' quest for an historical agent began long before M arx and has in fact continued into the present A renewed probe for a new historical agent was launched by some Marxists in various parts of the world, beginning w ith the failure of the German revolution after W orld W ar I which left the Bolsheviks beached in a backward country. Today, many Marxists are looking for a new historical agent to replace the proletariat, who they fear has been pacified by consumerism. Some believe this agent may be found in Blacks; some, among the migrant foreign workers throughout Europe; some, in the ex­ ploited nations of the third world; and some even believe that the new historical agent may be the students themselves. Some intelligentsia are thus actively in quest of a new historical agent to replace the proletariat. W hen M arx said that philosophy was the “ head” and the proletariat the “ heart” of the revolution, he did not anticipate that the time would come for a heart transplant. W hen Marxism cast the proletariat as historical agent, this was simply the latest stage of a search for historical agents that the secularized in ­ telligentsia had started much earlier. The choice of the proletariat as his­ torical agent follows previous claims by the intelligentsia that the “ na­ tion” or the Volk would be the new historical agent. For example, at the end of Fichtes Reden (as in certain of Saint-Simon's w ork) there is an image of an united endeavor, of scholars acting together w ith the rulers of the “ temporal sphere.” But, as George Kelly observes, “ . . . in es­ sence it is the learned caste, deserting the 'sphere of pure thought' . . . who must teach and consumate the republic.” 27 Machiavelli's search for a “ Prince” seems to have been similar, and when Gramsci speaks of the

24

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proletariat vanguard as a “ New Prince” he tacitly acknowledges a cer­ tain continuity between M arxist and earlier forms of a search for an his­ torical agency. D uring the Enlightenm ent the philosophes maintained a similar search for an “ Enlightened Monarch,” whose invitations they were not slow to accept. The search for an agent is also noticeable in the later development of the Saint-Simonians. T h e ir new Positivist Society was to be based on the “ industrial” classes who were to be the historical agents of the transformation that would precede the mature Positivist Society. For Saint-Simon and Saint-Simonians such as Bazard and Enfantin, the new intelligentsia’s role was hardly lim ited to announcing the rule of other strata. The intelligentsia itself was, they believed, destined to become a new scientific priesthood, assuming power openly, at least in the spiritual part of the social realm. Both the German and the French intelligentsia, then, manifested a series of trial-and-error attempts to identify an historical agent who could produce a societal transformation. The M arxian assignment of the pro­ letariat to the role of historical agent was continuous w ith the SaintSimonians’ search for an historical agent and w ith the latter’s reliance upon the industriels. Indeed, their search had earlier brought the SaintSimonians to the proletariat, although they continued to see it as an ob­ ject of philanthropy. M arx made the jum p to the self-groundedness of the proletariat, but it was a leap he could make because the SaintSimonians’ search had already brought the intelligentsia, even before M arx, to the very brink of electing the proletariat. One should also note, even if briefly, that the secular intelligentsia’s search for an historical agent begins long before the French revolution. One can see it clearly enough even in the efforts of Plato and the young men of his Academy. T h e ir problem was: who was to be the historical agent that united ancient Hellas; who could u n ify it to stop internecine warfare among the cities; and who could lead it eastward against the Persians? This problem induced the secular intelligentsia of Greece to search for an historical agent. Plato, of course, shopped for an historical agent in the direction of Syracuse and Sicily, hoping to win over the tyrant of Syracuse.* Plato and his Academy were not, however, the only members of the secular intelligentsia “ shopping” for an historical agent * In this vain hope, Plato had made three trip s to Syracuse, tw o o f them reluc­ ta n tly and at the u rg ing o f his young men. In the end, these young men gave up efforts at persuasion; gathering around one o f th e ir ow n num ber, they set sail w ith an arm y o f mercenaries to w in Syracuse fo r themselves, w ith force rather than persuasion. T h e y succeeded, b u t in the end they behaved no better than the tyran t they overthrew .

THE SOCIAL ORIGINS OF MARXISM

*5

in ancient Hellas. Isocrates looked north to Macedonia’s P hilip to re­ solve Greece’s problem. In the end, it was not Plato’s candidate, but the pupil of his pupil Aristotle who helped provide Greece w ith her agent: this, of course, was Alexander. The point then is: Marxism was the product of an historically evolv­ ing social stratum, a secular intelligentsia which had been committed to a longstanding search for an historical agent, for agents whom it wished to tutor, in whom it wished to develop a correct consciousness, and whom it hoped would transform the social world in desirable ways. Far from simply being passive recipients of ruling-class initiatives—though it is that, too, frequently enough—the intelligentsia, secular or clerical, has often defined its own politics around its own special interests and it has actively undertaken initiatives on their behalf. M arx’s designation of the proletariat as the agency of societal trans­ formation is simply a special case of a larger historical pattern: “ shop­ ping” for an agent. This existed long before the modem proletariat and continues today among those searching for a functional substitute for the proletariat. This reformulation is im portant because it helps us under­ stand that what is involved is not only the (real or im puted) behavior of the agent, the proletariat, but also, that of the intellectuals, for it is they who are doing the shopping. M arx failed to see that the bourgeois “ ideologues” whom he de­ nounced were in some ways no different from himself. Those whom M arx denounced as ideologues had also been shopping for an agent. But they, like almost all other intellectuals before them, had chosen an agent from a group that was already politically powerful and socially integrated. S till, we need not assume that the motives of those who seek an historical agent among the underdogs, victims, and the suffering are identical w ith those who seek it among the high and mighty. For the latter have situated themselves among those w ith whom they share a common cultural background, where there is the smell of money and power, and where there can be the hope that some of it m ight rub off. There are, then, differences as well as similarities in the shopping pat­ terns and in the motives of those choosing the weak and of those choos­ ing the powerful. W hich intellectuals choose which agents, whether high or low, depends in part on their values or ideals and, in part, on their structured opportunities. Well-sponsored intellectuals trained at prestigeful institutions have readier access to, and can shop at, the more “expensive stores” ; poorer, less reputable intellectuals, however, must go to the sociological “supermarkets” seeking the best bargain for their am­ bitions and talents. Yet both are probably shopping w ith similar motives and w ith the same idea of what constitutes a desirable agent. Those

26

M A R X IS M AN D T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

w hom M a rx called “ ideologues” are not always “ selling o u t” but, lik e others, are often ju st looking fo r ways to produce a w orld in w h ich they can tru ly believe, w h ile revolutionary intellectuals are not sim ply sacri­ ficin g themselves selflessly fo r others. “ Shopping for an agent” is grounded in certain necessary assumptions. One o f the most im portant o f these is that the shopper assumes he knows w hat needs to he done; those shopping fo r an agent assume that th e ir knowledge o f the w orld is not problem atic; w hat is problem atic to them is o n ly the m obilization o f power to enact that knowledge. I t is when the good is taken as already know n, and thus as given, th a t the search fo r an agent becomes problem atic. T h e search fo r an agent is a search fo i power by those w ho feel that they already have knowledge. A nother tacit assumption in M a rxism s search fo r an agent is that the stipulations o f reason alone do not suffice to m otivate a social stratum to undertake a d iffic u lt historical mission; an historical agent is a group im putedly m otivated to pursue the desired course by reason o f its interests. I t premises that the agent has sufficient power, b u t that he w ill not be persuaded by theory or reason alone to use it in the desired direction, and that this m otivation m ust come from other sources. In short, M a rxism s shopping fo r an agent premises a d istin ctio n between theoryguided-intellectuals and wterest-prom pted-agents. There are, o f course, tw o classical conceptions o f this problem . In one, assumptions are made concerning the “ spontaneity” w ith w hich an agents interests w ill dis­ pose h im to take the path desired by the intellectuals. In the other,, and specifically in the theory o f the vanguard, it is assumed th a t the agent's interests are necessary b u t by themselves w ill not suffice, and m ust be activated by p o litica l in itia tive s and theoretical stim ulation undertaken by intellectuals. W h e n we note that some M arxists have recently sought to replace the proletariat as the historical agency, we are in effect n o tin g that there is a difference between the role “ historical agent” and the specific roleoccupant, the “ proletariat.” T h a t M arxists can have second thoughts about the effectiveness w ith w hich the proletariat has perform ed the role they assigned to it im plies that there is a question o f the fit between role and actor. I t im plies that a theory o f the historical task o f the proletariat rests on a separate and anterior set o f assumptions about historical agency. A lth o u g h on the surface o f it, it seems as i f M arxism m ig h t be under­ stood as an historical theory lim ite d to a capitalist society w ith a prole­ tariat and, indeed, w ith an advanced, well-developed proletariat, it now becomes possible to suspect that M arxism is not about w hat it, in its norm al self-understanding, proposes. E xploration o f the im plications o f the historical agency problem indicates the dispensability o f the prole-

T H E SOCIAL O RIGINS OF M A R X IS M

*7

tariat and therefore that M arxism is not necessarily about the proletariat and capitalism and, hence, th a t it is not just about socialism, as conven­ tio n a lly defined in M arxism . In short, we begin to glimpse that, in M a rx­ ism, the proletariat, capitalism , and socialism are quite possibly meta­ phors, concrete examples o f certain inarticulate, more general, values and interests w h ich are themselves more accurately indicative of M arxism s truest and deepest goals.

2 Marxism as Politics of the New Class

A silence is the prudent sister o f a gloss; a gloss is a silence that only pretends to talk. W h e n N icos Poulantzas w rites a tedious study, P o liti­ cal Power and Social Classes, in w h ich a ll varieties o f elites, classes, and form ations are paraded by in that rhetoric o f mock rigor that,some French M arxists now substitute fo r clarity, and when we have o n ly tw o refer­ ences to intellectuals in a book o f more than 350 pages, then this is es­ sentially the silence that characteristically surrounds intellectuals in the M a rxist com m unity. W h e n Goran T herborn appears to be co n fro n tin g the role o f in te l­ lectuals in the origins o f M arxism , b u t w hen he o n ly tells us that M a rx­ ism was not created by ordinary academics b u t by m arginal, radicalized intellectuals, he is re citin g little more than L e n in and Kautsky had long ago acknowledged; it is a discussion whose seeming candor conceals the fact that the essential questions have not been raised, let alone answered. I t is, in short, a gloss. L e t us read T herborn closely: . . . the left-w ing German intelligentsia of 1843-45 contributed some­ thing positive to the formation of historical materialism. . . . L e ft H e­ gelianism was not borne by established academicians but by a radical, alienated intelligentsia of “ free” —in other words, insecure and often harassed—publicists. The Young or Left Hegelians of the early 1840^ had not compromised their ideas for the sake of their careers. On the contrary, Feuerbach’s academic career had been stopped short in the mid 1830s because of an heretical theological text. Strauss was driven from

28

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29

his chair in Zurich in 1839. I n the same year, Bruno Bauer had to move from Berlin to Bonn, and at the beginning of 1842, he was thrown out of the university there, which led Marx to give up his own academic plans. Another of M arx’s closest friends, Rutenberg, later editor of the Reinische Zeitung, had also been dismissed from his teaching job.1 A gl oss is sym ptom atic o f a co nflict: T herbom is caught between hav­ in g to acknowledge, as Kautsky and L e n in had long done, that M arxism was bom o f bourgeois intellectuals, yet w anting to avoid the dissonance that such an admission brings for a M arxism w hich presents itse lf as a theory o f w orkin g class self~em ancipation. T herbom seeks to resolve the co n flict by stressing the unusual character of the intellectuals who cre­ ated M arxism . D enying that they were ordinary establishment academi­ cians, and h o ld in g that they were extraordinary “ radicalized” intellec­ tuals, he has no account o f that very radicalization. N ote, too, how T herbom barely m entions M a rxs own personal aca­ dem ic fate—i.e., the disappointm ent o f his early hopes for an academic career—slip p in g that in to the subsidiary clause o f a sentence about some­ one else, B runo Bauer. T herbom does not w ish to raise the possibility that M arxism may be as m uch grounded in a career disappointm ent—in M a rx ’s own blocked ascendance (and indeed, in that of larger sections o f the N e w Class o f intellectuals and in te llig e n ts ia )—as in anguish for the pro le ta ria t’s suffering. Yet there is no doubt that the Young Hegelians' radicalization began w e ll before th e ir careers were blocked. Indeed, th e ir careers were blocked because they had undergone a p rio r radicalization, not the other way around. Instead o f accounting fo r the radicalization o f intellectuals, T herborn thus begs the question, treating this as if it were a fact o f na­ ture needing no explanation. Yet the radicalization o f intellectuals is made acutely problem atic by the very basis o f M arxism w hich, having a ll along argued that consciousness was determ ined by social being, thereby made the revolutionary com m unism o f young bourgeois intellec­ tuals to ta lly perplexing. T h a t the alienation o f young intellectuals can start w ell before they experience career blockages indicates that these are but one factor in the developm ent o f that alienation. W h a t else is involved? H ow , in p a rticu ­ lar, can the alienation o f young intellectuals begin even before they ex­ perience a career blockage? I shall comment here on only one induce­ m ent to the early alienation o f young intellectuals, namely, the culture o f critica l discourse (C C D ) they bear and by w hich they are charac­ terized. H a vin g analyzed this special culture at some length in both the first and second volumes of m y trilo g y ,2 I shall discuss it here only briefly.

3°

M A R X IS M AND T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

T h e C u ltu re o f C ritic a l D iscourse and P o litic a l R a d ica liza tio n T h e culture o f critica l discourse insists that any assertion—about any­ th in g , by anyone—is open to criticism and that, i f challenged, no asser­ tion can be defended by in vo kin g someone's au th o rity. I t forbids a refer­ ence to a speakers position in society (o r reliance upon his personal character) in order to ju s tify or refute his claims. T h e C C D is the spe­ cial ideology o f intellectuals and intelligentsia, and it is essentially an ideology about how discourse should be conducted. W h y , however, is the C C D alienating? U nd e r the scrutiny o f the culture o f critica l discourse, a ll claims to tru th are in p rin cip le now equal, and tra d ition a l authorities are now stripped o f th e ir special rig h t to define social reality. T h e credit n orm ally given to the claims o f those w ith w o rld ly success, to the rich and pow erful, now needs to be hidden i f not w ith d ra w n , because it comes to be defined as illic it and u n w orthy. T h e C C D is alienating and even radicalizing because it demands the rig h t to sit in judgm ent over all claims, regardless o f who makes them . As a d istin ct speech com m unity, the h ig h ly educated in general, and intellectuals in particular, m anifest d istin ctive speech patterns: th e ir speech is more analytical and abstract, less concrete and specific; they em ploy more references to books and use more book-derived words and ideas. T h e speech o f intellectuals also insists on hew ing to the proprieties o f discourse rather than accommodating responsively to the reactions o f those to w hom the speech is made. There is, therefore, less gathering up o f group support d u rin g the discourse and less sensitivity to the ways the speech can offend and rupture the solidarity o f the group. Intellectuals also com m only use bigger, more d iffic u lt words, and longer, more stru ctu ra lly com plex sentences. T h e y engage in more ta lk about ta lk—i.e., in more m etacom m unication—and m anifest more lin ­ guistic narcissism. Being relatively more context-independent and cosmo­ politan, the language o f intellectuals enables them more readily to com­ m unicate w ith distant others and to enter in to solidarities w ith those elsewhere; as it frees intellectuals from the local version o f common sense, it also frees them to give it offense. T h e C C D common to in te l­ lectuals allows them greater access to beliefs, ideas, values, and kn o w l­ edge from distant places and times w hich may be at variance w ith , and may be used to challenge, the claims o f local notables. T h e culture o f critica l discourse can thus be an alienating and even radicalizing gram­ mar o f com m unication, for its very epistemology ta citly embodies a p o li­ tics critica l o f the local status quo. C C D requires that a ll speakers m ust be treated as sociologically equal

M A R X IS M AS P O LIT IC S OF T H E N E W CLASS

31

in evaluating th e ir speech. Considerations o f race, class, sex, creed, w ealth, or power in society may not be taken in to account in ju d g in g a speakers contentions and a special e ffort is made to guard against th e ir in tru sio n on critica l judgm ent. T h e C C D , then, suspects that all tra d i­ tional social differentiations may be subversive o f reason and critica l judgm ent and thus facilitates a critica l exam ination o f establishm ent claims. I t distances intellectuals from them and prevents elite views from becom ing an unchallenged, conventional wisdom. As w ith any moral code, however, there is a difference between beliefs about and con­ formance w ith the C C D ; grammar and performances o f grammar are not the same. Intellectuals oriented to the C C D may thus cu t comers and even violate its requirem ents; C C D influences b u t does not enslave performances. Fundam entally, the C C D requires that all groups’ claims be evaluated in the same m anner, thus concealing the epistemological credit norm ally given to the claims o f elites. (A s Nietzsche noted, “ . . . w ith dialectics, the plebs come to the top.” ) S till, i f a stratification system persists, in w hich some have more power, prestige, or w ealth than others, this w ill indeed dispose persons to credit elite claims. Persons w ill reject elite claims more cautiously, or accept them more rapidly, than claims made by low er persons. There then develops a complex dialectic between this epistemological credit, the conventional pressure o f any stratification sys­ tem to credit elite definitions o f social reality, and the counterpressure o f the C C D to exclude such credit. U nd e r some conditions, the C C D is stronger and more alienative, w h ile under others, it is less so. T h e alienation o f the N ew Class o f in ­ tellectuals is produced p a rtly by the interaction between ( 1 ) its culture o f critica l discourse (C C D ) and ( 2 ) its career blockages. Each o f these may, o f course, vary separately. Intellectuals d iffe r in the degree that th e ir careers are blocked (o r are successful) and they d iffe r also in the extent to w h ich they have learned, internalized, and com m itted them ­ selves to C C D . Latency or disuse o f C C D is ( in p a rt) due to the com­ pensatory gratifications o f a successful career, w hich disposes persons to credit established a u th o rity and to b lu n t critica l judgm ent. T h e C C D o f the rich and pow erful is thus greatly crippled. W h ile career experiences a m p lify or dampen the alienative potential o f the C C D , career experience among the young has not yet had m uch chance to produce either result. T h e alienative potential o f the C C D may, therefore, be seen w ith relative p u rity among students. T h is is par­ tic u la rly the case fo r u n ive rsity or college students in the liberal arts or sciences w hich are less apt to select those com m itted to com petitive suc­ cess in rem unerative conventional careers. (T h e same profession or oc-

3^

M A R X IS M AN D T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

cupation can, o f course, be pursued fo r d iffe re n t motives under d iffe re n t historical and social conditions. For example, doctors or engineers in u n ­ derdeveloped countries may, fo r various reasons, be more com m itted to collective w elfare than those in advanced in d u stria l societies.) U n ive rsity students, then, are more lik e ly than the less educated to internalize the culture o f critica l discourse, p a rticu la rly those pursuing non-vocationally centered educations in the liberal arts, insofar as they are s till too young to have had career successes that w ould accommodate them to the status quo and lead them to suspend critica l distance from it. T hus the value-hew ing character o f the L e ft Hegelians, w hich T h e rbom invokes—they “ had not compromised th e ir ideas fo r the sake o f th e ir careers'—is an age-related phenom enon; one is rem inded that the synonym fo r the L e ft Hegelians is, o f course, the “ Y oung" Hegelians. I f we do not sim ply take persons' value com m itm ents (th e ir “ id e a lism ") as a given, as vulgar idealists do, then we m ust ask, under w hat conditions are value com m itm ents—such as the C C D —lik e ly to be enacted by those h o ld in g them. One o f these conditions is surely age-related, and “ ideal­ ism " is thus age-generated. T h e “ idealism " o f the young, however, is as m uch shaped by th e ir “ social being" as the “ cynicism " or “ hypocrisy"' o f the old, so that neither has a greater frim a facie claim to ra tio n a lity than the other. Persons may also be readier to surrender a m erely prospective career than one already accomplished, an expected rather than an experienced success, im agined rather than tasted pleasures. For the young, the p u r­ suit o f a career may at first be ju st another value so that “ career" versus “ re vo lu tio n " may be a question o f one value versus another, rather than being a choice between a sp iritu a l value and a base “ interest." For the young, revolution is not o n ly a sp iritu a l value b u t is also a career alter­ native; it is a prospective career. There is—as I m entioned earlier—an indication o f this in Lenin's emphasis on the “ professional" revolutionary w hich invites the N e w Class young to define revolution as a career; the L e n in ist “ vanguard" was from the start the offer o f revolution as a career. In these terms, the choice a young radical faces is one between careers; between a conventional career w ith its known and lim ite d possibilities— w hich is called its “ security"—b u t w h ich also has h im w alk in the foot­ steps o f his father, or a career on the larger scale and stage o f history. Faced w ith the fact that some intellectuals do not “ sell o u t," M arxism is caught in a dilem m a: either they d id not sell out because conditions prevented this—fo r example, no one ever offered to buy them o u t—in w hich event there is n o th in g heroic about them ; or, they d id not sell out because they were indeed governed by th e ir ideals (o r ideas), thus u n ­ de rm in ing M arxism 's o rig in a l “ m aterialist" premises.

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33

T h is is one o f the m ajor reasons for M arxism ’s silence and confusion about the role o f the revolutionary inte lle ctu a l. It cannot deal w ith the question o f th e ir middle-class origins w ith o u t contradicting itse lf: the revolutionary inte lle ctu a l is either ( i ) just another interest-pursuing ego­ ist, and his revolutionary com m itm ent and theory are therefore a disguise fo r that interest, or ( 2 ) he is tru ly an idealist who can transcend his in ­ terests. In the first case, revolutionary theory and M arxism itse lf become another “ false consciousness” that can make no superior claim to tru th or loyalty; in the second case, the facts acknowledged contradict the ma­ terialism premised by M a rxist theory.3

The Grounding of M arxist Theory in the New Class M arxism is only about, b u t not hy, the proletariat. Its theory and politics have, rather, been im p o rta n tly stamped by the N ew Class o f intellectuals and intelligentsia, and M arxism eludes firm understanding u n til it is understood in its complex relation to this class. T h e theory o f M arxism and the kin d o f socialism it pursues reflect both the m aterial and ideal interests o f the N ew Class. In the discussion that follow s, I examine the m anner in w hich the interests and experiences o f the N ew Class have influenced tw o d istinctive features o f M a rxist theory, ( 1 ) its theory o f alienation and ( 2 ) its conception o f the role o f the state in socialism.

1. A lie n a tio n and Intellectuals G rounded in Strauss, Feuerbach, and H egel, M a rx ’s critiqu e o f aliena­ tion first emerged as a critiq u e o f religion w hich conceived God as the projection o f alienated hum anity; behind the im puted power o f God was the suffering and need o f men. T h e critiq u e o f religion and o f all aliena­ tions was the rediscovery o f m an’s own a ctivity behind various fetishes— w hether religion, metaphysics, or the com m odity—w hich camouflage men’s presence and actions. T h e critiq u e o f alienation, however, was no simple “ reflection” o f the hum an condition but a selective response em erging from a specific grounding. It is mistaken to believe that the critiq u e o f alienation pas­ sively reflects “ w hat is.” In p o in t o f fact, alienation is 'problematic only because some social situation outrages some social value, even though this value may be so engrained as to be beyond n o ticing. W h a t then are the values whose frustration is premised by the critiqu e o f alienation? Beyond this, whose values are they?

34

M A R X IS M AN D T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

Essentially, the values were those im plicated from the beginning in the most fundam ental structure o f German idealism , especially its ele­ m ental d istin ctio n between Subjects and Objects, in an interaction in w hich the Subjects constitute Objects ju st as the Objects shape the Sub­ jects. In this view , there are no “ O bjects” w ith o u t Subjects to w hom they are Objects, and conversely, Subjects are constituted by th e ir rela­ tionship to Objects. B ut it is the Subject that is here the repository and giver o f value, and w ho alone properly has in itia tive s. A lie n a tio n , then, is a statement about the Subject's fa ilu re to have acquired the power and control over his w o rld —in c lu d in g the means o f production—inherent in the very notion o f a S ubject. I t is a grievance about the “ constraint” to w hich the Subject has been exposed. A lie n a tio n w ould not be problem ­ atic w ith o u t the premise that man is and should be a Subject, that per­ sons should control th e ir own a ctivity. A lie n a tio n is thus a grievance fe lt and fe lt o n ly by those conceiving themselves Subjects, and w ho feel that the w orld o f Objects s till eludes th e ir rig h tfu l control. T h e servitude o f alienation is condemned because servitude outrages a Promethean ex­ pectation o f m ans power. W h a t is from one perspective a com plaint that the O bject w orld has not yet been brought under persons' control is, from another, chagrin that the O bject w orld s till retains autonom y and has escaped dom ination by the Subject. T h e aim o f such a Subject, then, is not sim ply self-control and seZ/-development; he also seeks dom ination over the O bject w orld. T h e critiq u e o f alienation, then, premises the Subject's rig h t to dom i­ nate the cosmos. I t is a tacit claim fo r m ankind's rig h t to master the u n i­ verse and to subject everything in it to the needs and interests o f his own species. T h e critiq u e o f alienation premises a hum an “ emancipa­ tio n ” th a t requires hum an dom ination; it is an ideology o f hum anistic im perialism . I t understands the rem aining autonom y o f others as a fa il­ ure o f men, and indeed as an inju stice in w hich they have not been given th e ir due. T h e critiq u e o f alienation premises that the w orld is man's oyster. L e t us ask the sociological question, fo r w h ich groups does such an ideology have an elective a ffin ity. I t m ig h t seem that a critiq u e o f aliena­ tion, w ith its condem nation o f servitude, w ould obviously have an a ffin ity fo r the weak, and fo r them alone. B ut that conclusion rests on the mis­ taken assumption that the weak necessarily expect autonom y, power, and freedom, and that because they lack these, they w ould fin d a critiq u e o f alienation appealing. H o w can “ freedom ” and “ autonom y” become prob­ lem atic fo r the powerless w ith barely adequate subsistence and shelter? Those long oppressed and liv in g precariously on the edge o f survival de­ velop practical, “ econom istic” concerns fo r im m ediate subsistence, pro-

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35

tection from violence, and m aintenance o f th e ir health, fa m ily obliga­ tions, ritu a l status, and fo r some measure o f security. T h e oppressed o f the w orld are often offended less at th e ir lack o f autonom y and power than at the fa ilu re o f th e ir tra d ition a l subsistence system, localistic te rri­ torial arrangements, and at offence to th e ir concept o f the sacred. T h e critiqu e o f alienation as ideology, then, is not first on the agenda o f the very weak and oppressed. T o p u t the m atter otherwise, we can use the d istin ctio n th a t Robert R edfield made between the Great T ra d i­ tions and the L ittle T ra d itio n s, w hich corresponds roughly w ith distinc­ tions between, on the first side, the cosmopolitan, urban, literate, elite traditions u tiliz in g relatively “ elaborated” lin g u istic codes, and, on the second, the localistic, ru ral, oral, and fo lk traditions u tiliz in g “ restricted” lin g u is tic codes. W ith in this fram ew ork, it is plain that the critiq u e o f alienation is situated in the G reat T ra d itio n . T h e nineteenth-century critiq u e o f alienation expressed the experi­ ence o f elites at the urban centers o f Europe, rather than o f oppressed peasants or uprooted workers in the new in d u stria l slums of great cities such as M anchester. A n d since the critiq u e o f alienation was congenial to those fo r w hom power was 'problem atic, then it was not congenial to those securely in power, i.e., to established and prospering m iddle classes, or to the in d u stria l and financial magnates. For w h ile they did, indeed, expect to be invested w ith power, th e ir expectations in this regard had already been fu lfille d . W hose ideology, then, was the critiq u e o f alienation? I t was the ideol­ ogy o f an elite w ith o u t power, yet o f those who had control over parts o f a G reat T ra d itio n , whose specialized sym bolic skills gave them tra d i­ tion-mastery, b u t who were subordinated to other elites, i.e., to the old aristocratic elite o f b irth , or to the new elite o f in d u stria l attainm ent and money, the bourgeoisie. I t was an elite w ith o u t riches, w ith o u t privileged access to p o litica l or religious office and, fo r the most part, w ith little p u b lic recognition, and thus w ith little regular influence on p u b lic af­ fairs. Yet fo r a ll that, it was an elite w ith great expectation. Being in con­ tro l o f a w orth-bestow ing G reat T ra d itio n w h ich it believed o f enormous, perhaps even sacred, value, it fe lt its deprivations keenly, as n o th in g less than an abuse o f justice, or as the usurpation o f its true inheritance. T h e critiq u e o f alienation was the nineteenth-century ideology o f those in ­ tellectuals who were not privileged in the ra p id ly rising new w orld o f business, industry, science, and technology and whose own origins were in older spheres o f culture, who were w riters, philosophers, theologians, or academicians, who d id not conceive o f science as the defining essence o f m odernity. T h e critiq u e o f alienation thus loses salience w ith the emergence o f S cientific M arxism .

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2. Intellectuals, M arxism , and the State T h e lin k between intellectuals and M arxism is traceable also in terms o f the specific kin d o f socialism th a t M arxism seeks. As the C om m unist M anifesto p la in ly indicates, M arxism s vision o f socialism centers on the expropriation o f private ownership o f the means o f production and its transference to the state: T h e proletariat w ill, once in power, “ centralize a ll instrum ents o f production in the hands o f the state . . . and seek centralization o f credit in the hands o f the state, by means o f a na­ tional bank w ith State capital and exclusive m onopoly, [and] C e n tra li­ zation o f the means o f com m unication and transport in the hands o f the state. . . .” 4 W hatever relationship such a socialism has to the w o rkin g class, it bears the most in tim a te connection to the history o f the state, whose modem emergence and centralization began in the contest between the absolute m onarchy and the feu d a lity, where developm ent and centraliza­ tion o f the state were instrum ents used by the m onarchy to suppress the n o b ility ; and where, subsequently, the state continues its grow th under the bourgeoisie (fo r a ll th e ir liberal p ie tie s), and grows s till fu rth e r d u r­ in g the developm ent o f the “ w elfare state.” M a rxist socialism, then, is in substantial part a special case o f the co n tin u in g extension o f the m odem state s apparatus and powers. W h a t connection is there between M arxism as an extension o f the state, and intellectuals? T h e most relevant consideration is th a t “ collec­ tiv iz in g ” the means o f production, credit, and com m unication has tw o facets: in one, the power o f the old moneyed class o f bourgeoisie is destroyed; in the second, the transfer o f property to the state vastly en­ larges its bureaucratic apparatus, extending opportunities fo r the special technical skills, advanced education, and new “ hum an capital” o f in te l­ lectuals. Even under capitalism , the educated have already begun to make the state apparatus th e ir special property. N ote the exceptionally high proportion o f those w ith college educations in governm ent bureau­ cracies. T h e extension o f the modern state furthers s till more the career interests and the power position o f intellectuals; jobs in it are made spe­ cia lly accessible to the educated. M u ch alienation o f intellectuals, as discussed earlier, derives from the blockage o f th e ir upw ard m o b ility. For example, one o f the first appear­ ances o f radicalized intellectuals in modem politics, the highest Jacobin leadership d u rin g the French R evolution, was in part prom pted by the fact that th e ir careers had at first often m anifested upw ard m o b ility, b u t th e ir co n tin u in g upw ard m o b ility was blocked by aristocratic preem p­ tions. In short, the top Jacobin leaders were not declasses b u t blocked ascendants.

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A sim ilar phenomenon has o f course been noted in the T h ird W o rld o f developing countries. H ere, in order to meet th e ir manpower needs, foreign invaders set up p u b lic schools and begin tra in in g a select group among native intellectuals whose num ber, however, soon exceeds the careers open to them under foreign dom ination. A trained, articulate elite has then been created w hich is devoid of co n tin uin g prospects except those that m ig h t be opened by revolution, especially by successful wars of national liberation against im perialism . Foreign im perialism s are the crucial obstacle to T h ird W o rld intellectuals in colonized countries. A nationalist movement against foreign im perialism s is thus, among other things, the expropriation o f foreigners’ property rights in the colonial state apparatus, m aking it the property of local intellectuals. In the more developed and p o litic a lly autonomous capitalist societies, however, it is moneyed property organized as corporate capital that sets the u ltim a te lim it on the N e w Class’s prospects. T h e new cu ltu ral bour­ geoisie, the educated, is lim ite d in the positions to w hich its members can rise in the private sector, where there is private ownership o f the means o f production. I t is this moneyed class that constitutes the im placable lim it on the continued upw ard m o b ility o f those w ith cu ltu ra l capital in capitalism . One can, after all, jo in the party; one cannot “ jo in ” the bourgeoisie. A new state extending its control over the economy and b u ild in g “ social­ ism ” is thus useful to the class interests o f a cu ltu ra l bourgeoisie: first, by e lim in a tin g the class and in stitu tio n s that lim it its autonom y and, sec­ ond, by extending career opportunities by expanding the state bureau-

M a rx is m and the P o litic a l L im its o f the C C D There is a fu rth e r lin k between M a rxist socialism and N ew Class in te l­ lectuals, arising from the N ew Class’s p o litica l situation. T h e N ew Class is a m in o rity class w h ich could not, by its own efforts, hope to wrest power in the state in an open contest w ith the old moneyed class. It must seek a mass basis, p a rticu la rly w hen it wants to extend its influence on the state. Insofar as its m ovement is directed against or is costly to the old moneyed class, the o n ly other substantial p o litica l a lly open to the N e w Class is, o f course, the w o rkin g class. M a rxist socialism, then, is p a rtly a strategy fo r o p tim izin g the life chances o f the new cu ltu ra l bourgeoisie—intellectuals—by rem oving the moneyed class and old in stitu tio n s that lim it its upw ard m o b ility, and is p a rtly a p o litica l strategy through w hich the N ew Class can attract allies

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to accomplish this. M arxism thus encompasses both the ultim ate p o litica l goals o f the N ew Class and the means necessary to achieve them ; both the removal o f the ce ilin g that private corporate property imposes on the N e w Class's m o b ility, and the provision o f a class alliance to achieve that. T h e politics im p lic it in M arxism does not o n ly overcome the struc­ tu ra l lim its encountered by the N e w Class b u t also serves as an antidote to the p o litica l lim its inherent in the N e w Class's culture o f c ritica l dis­ course. T h e C C D o f the N e w Class is drawn to a politics stressing the power o f ideas and im p ly in g that correct ideas have a special p o litica l efficacy. W h ic h is to say, intellectuals w ill be draw n to an ideological politics. E xa ltin g theory over practice and ta lk over action, the N e w Class's C C D is often concerned less w ith the success o f a practice than that the practice should be ra tio n a lly interpretable and consistent. M a rx ­ ism, however, serves to counterbalance this N e w Class's disposition to­ ward theoreticism by a self-conscious stress on the u n ity o f theory and practice w hich accents the practice side, insisting, as M a rx d id (in his eleventh Thesis on Feuerbach'), that philosophers had only interpreted the w orld b u t that the p o in t was to change it. Intellectuals' C C D also stresses the im portance o f self-awareness, self­ reflection, and self-editing, a ll o f w hich tend to induce stilted, convoluted speech, the loss o f w arm th and spontaneity, and the appearance o f an “ in h u m a n " coldness. T h is im pairs the N e w Class's capacity fo r easy com m unication or solidarity w ith others, especially those o f lesser educa­ tion, and lim its its p o litica l appeal. M arxism 's stress upon the w orkin g class, however, curbs the N e w Class's im pulse toward an aloof elitism , m aking it plain that th e ir p o litica l fu tu re depends on responses by “ com m on" people. T h e N e w Class's C C D also emphasizes adjusting action to some pat­ tern o f p rio rity subsum ing it to some identifiable rule. C o n tin u a lly in te r­ p re ting varied situations in terms o f some single rule, the C C D o f intellectuals runs the risk o f ig n o rin g the special character o f d iffe re n t cases. T h is tendency to dogmatism im plies an inse n sitivity to persons' feelings w hich cripples the N e w Class's p o litica l alliances and appeal. B ut w ith its historicist critiq u e o f a ll universal m oralities, rules, or laws, and w ith its emphasis on the contextual analysis o f the concrete case, M arxism is as it were a specific corrective fo r the p o litic a lly d e b ilita tin g abstractness, form alism , and coldness inherent in the N ew Class's ideol­ ogy o f discourse. M arxism thus does n o t sim ply reflect passively the interests o f the N e w Class b u t actively confronts its p o litica l problems and offers solutions to them .

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L ib e ra tin g the T e c h n ic a l In te llig e n ts ia W e should rem ind ourselves here that, for M arx, the most basic contra­ d ictio n o f capitalism devolves from the conflict between its relations o f production, embedded in the old property system, and its forces o f pro­ duction, centered in but not lim ite d to the new technology. I t was this new technology that w ould, by re vo lu tio n izin g p ro du ctivity, free m an­ kin d o f the ancient scourge o f scarcity and deliver it from the realm o f necessity. B ut this liberation w ould at some point be blocked, said M arx, by the old property system, w hich w ould then have to be overthrown to allow co n tin u in g ind u stria l developm ent. M a rx ’s socialism, then, is largely a promise to liberate the forces o f production; it seeks to expro­ priate private ownership and invest this in the state because this is ex­ pected to fu rth e r the developm ent of the forces o f 'production. M arxian socialism, then, focally promises a liberation o f the forces o f production from capitalist venality. W ith this, however, it carries a tacit promise of the liberation o f the technical intelligentsia, the bearers of the new tech­ nology, from that same lim it. In this respect, too, M arxism is the ideology o f the technical intelligentsia. M arxism is an ideology o f the N ew Class, not m erely as a philosophy o f the liberation o f p ro d u ctivity, and o f those intelligentsia w ho are its functionaries, but fa r more broadly. Indeed, M arxism is a critiqu e not just o f capitalism , but also o f the old cultures of intellectuals, specifically “ Neo-Classicism ,” w hich had been interw oven w ith the class system and religious in stitu tio n s o f the ancien regime and o f earlier European so­ cieties. T h e critiq u e o f neo-classicism that M arxism m ounted, was accom­ plished from a standpoint that was a fusion o f rom anticism and scientism. M arxism thus rejected neo-classical metaphysics w hich saw re a lity as in h e re n tly structured, boundaried, stable, and as in h e re n tly disposed toward order, and instead favored a metaphysics that focused on change, process, conflict, and in n e r contradiction. Rather than seeing men as the product o f a shaping “ c u ltu re ” and a d iscip lin in g m orality, M arxism s m aterialism emphasized the derivative character o f culture and m orality as a “ consciousness” shaped by social being. M arxism pursued the ru p ­ ture w ith neo-classical culture by expressing new assumptions that reso­ nated and recovered altogether d iffe re n t structures o f feeling. T h u s instead o f view ing man as a creature o f reason or m orality, as classicism had, M arxism emphasized man as a creature of action and struggle. Instead o f seeing man as sp irit and m ind, M arxism saw him as no less a being o f flesh and blood, a llyin g itse lf ta citly w ith the emanci­ pation o f the flesh. Instead o f pessim istically view ing man as having to

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come to terms w ith inherent lim its and as never w in n in g —b u t o n ly as transcending his sp iritu a lly inevitable defeat—M arxism saw man more o p tim istica lly, as capable o f w in n in g more happiness on earth than he has so far know n. M arxism rejected classicisms sense o f the tragic, cre d itin g man's doing and m aking w ith Promethean effectiveness. Classicism's sense o f the im portance o f m ans m a in ta in in g a lim ite d , w ell-defined place was contradicted also by M arxism s project o f u lti­ m ately overcom ing the division o f labor and m aking a w orld in w h ich a man in his life tim e m ig h t have m any careers. Instead o f regarding the class system as the earthly expression o f an eternal p rin cip le o f hierarchy, as classicism had, M a rx viewed such a p rin cip le as the expression o f earthly hierarchy. Looking forw ard to a w orld in w h ich the dom ination o f man by man w ould cease, he sought a society in w hich the “ free devel­ opm ent o f each w ill lead to the free developm ent o f a ll." Instead o f p rizin g leisure, the d ilig e n t perform ance o f d u ty, or the life o f contem ­ p la tio n -a ll classical virtues—M a rx saw free and w illin g w ork, on the one side, and courageous struggle, on the other, as the w ay men trans­ form themselves and master th e ir circumstances. M u ch o f M arxism , then, is more than a critiq u e o f capitalism ; it is a smashing attack on the old culture o f intellectuals—on classicism and neo-classicism—w h ich had norm ally integrated intellectuals in to the old society and class system. T h a t attack was launched, as indicated, from the standpoint o f newer ideologies—rom anticism and scientism —assertive o f intellectuals' newer independence and grow ing m arginality. I f the new rom antic critiq u e o f old classical culture vo lu n ta ristica lly accented the im portance o f w hat men d id and made, the new scientism insisted that men w ould not succeed in th e ir struggle w ith o u t a scientific theory. M arxism incorporated both elements. Its synthesis expresses a c u ltu ra l fram ew ork fo r the social u n ifica tio n o f both w ings o f the N e w Class, its new scientific and technical intelligentsia, on the one side, and o f its older hum anistic elite, on the other, p ro vid in g an ideological basis fo r overcom ing th e ir em erging division. T h e scientistic and the rom antic elements both contained a critiq u e o f the new bourgeois elites. Rom anticism regarded the bourgeoisie as p h ilistines, w h ile scientism regarded the technical inte llige n tsia as u n iq u e ly possessing the culture appropriate to in d u stria l society. Indeed, in both cases—i f fo r d iffe re n t reasons—the advocates o f scientism and rom anti­ cism each looked upon themselves as the very incarnation o f m odernity. I f the attack on intellectuals' old cu ltu re underm ined th e ir integration in to society and the old class system, both scientism and rom anticism fostered distance from even the new bourgeois elites, expressing in te lle c­ tuals' sense o f th e ir superiority, and th e ir conviction th a t the fu tu re

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belonged to them . Insofar as M arxism is a synthesis o f rom anticism and scientism, it is a synthesis o f the vanguard ideologies o f intellectuals and technical intelligentsia, fa c ilita tin g th e ir p o litica l u n ity .

L e n in is m , S ta lin is m , and the In te llig e n ts ia W hatever its in te n t and self-consciousness, M arxism ’s basic concrete aim —as d istin ct from any ‘ em ancipation” it promises—is the liberation o f the forces o f production from bourgeois social relationships. T h is means, first, M arxism has viewed the mode o f production as a neutral system transferable from capitalism to socialism w ith o u t in ju ry to the latter. T h is means, second, the level o f p ro d u ctivity was decisive fo r M a rxist theory, w hatever its other more tacit assumptions about the im portance o f other elements o f “ cu ltu re .” T h is means, th ird , M arxism regarded this as the single, most decisive requisite o f socialism, w hich, if not pres­ ent w ith in a revolutionary society, is available to it from more advanced friends elsewhere. T h is means, fo u rth , M arxism intended to do a ll it could to heighten p ro d u ctivity, and to continue doing so in d e fin ite ly, seeking a grow th in p ro d u ctivity w ith o u t end. A n d fin a lly, this means, fifth , M arxism , whatever its solemn proclam ations about the “ self-eman­ cipation o f the w orkin g class,” is dependent on those social strata—tech­ nical intelligentsia, specialists, experts, the N e w Class—on w hich that p ro d u ctivity and its increase necessarily depend. W h o M arxism and M arxists represent is not to be learned from th e ir own p u b lic pledges o f fealty to the w o rkin g class. W e learn more from the private rather than the careful p u b lic pronouncem ent. W e learn m uch more from the passionate inadvertence wrenched from the out­ raged M a rx, who, w hen a deputation o f u ncultured workers ( K noten) dared to ask h im w hom he represented, im periously thundered back: “ . . . nobody b u t ourselves.” B ut who, sociologically speaking, are “ our­ selves ?” W h a t is “our” social character and position? I f not the w orkin g class, then who? “ W e ,” o f course, are the radicalized intellectuals and intelligentsia w ho claim “ we” are not here at all, except as the bearers o f necessary “ theory,” or as the friends and confidants o f H istory. W e, the ve n trilo ­ quists w ho p u t our own hopes and plans in to the m outh o f history; we, the bodiless voice o f the Logos w ith o u t Being; we w ho speak only for ra tio n a lity and justice b u t w ant n o th in g fo r ourselves, and whose am bi­ tions fo r the w orkin g class are in no way colored by w hat and who we are; we w ho make our o fferin g to the proletariat as a cat offers his trophy. M u ch o f this remained cryp tic in M arxism because M arxism itse lf

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never had m uch in the way o f a developed, articulate politics. B u t once L e n in asked that question generative o f a ll politics, W h a t is to be done?, and answered it in pa rt by designing the vanguard party as the in stru ­ m ent o f the teoretiki, things became m uch clearer. Em barrassingly clear. T h a t earth-shaking book begins by insistin g th a t socialism and socialist consciousness require the scientific theory w hich can come from bour­ geois intellectuals alone; b u t it then proceeds to paper over this by speak­ in g o f “ us” o n ly as “ professional revolutionaries,” thus d e fin in g an iden­ tity fo r revolutionary leaders that, on the one hand, masks th e ir social origins as intellectuals, and on the other, allows intellectuals to merge w ith revolutionaries o f various origins in a single u n ify in g id e n tity. H a v­ in g begun by insistin g on the im portance o f intellectuals fo r socialism, W h a t Is T o Be Done? then proceeds to mask th e ir presence. Soon there is nobody here b u t us “ professional revolutionaries,” w ho, in any event, shortly draw a lin e between ourselves and those other pathologically garrulous intellectuals w ho w ant to ta lk, separating from we-who-havesuffered and we whose rig h t to represent the w o rkin g class is vouch­ safed by “ the exclusive and universal hatred consecrated to us by a ll the parties and fractions o f the old w o rld .” W h o Leninism represents is made clear i f we ask, w hat d id L e n in w ant to do w ith his K noten, w ith the backward “ sem i-Asiatic” workers o f Russia? T h is answer is th a t first, he wanted to send them to school under the tutelage o f the Bolshevik Party, and then, after the Revolu­ tio n , under the tutelage o f the inte llige n tsia , although this group can h a rdly be separated from the Party. Both before and after the revolution, L e n in saw the intellectuals and intelligentsia as schoolmasters o f the proletariat. There is an interregnum between these plans and th e ir achievem ent in Soviet society named S talinism ; b u t in tim e even th a t catastrophe subsides and the o rig in a l design begins to reassert itse lf. As we w ill note in w hat follow s, Leninism m eant a society in w h ich pro­ letariat and socialism w ould at first be schooled under the tutelage o f the technical intelligentsia, and in w h ich the old w o rkin g class its e lf w ould in tim e be re-educated in to a technical intelligentsia. A t th a t p o in t there w ould in tru th be no one here b u t us intelligentsia. A ll this—the com m itm ent to p ro d u ctivity and, therefore, the in te lli­ gentsia—is fu lly evident in L e n in s own policies: As L e n in remarked in 1918, “ the o n ly socialism we can im agine is one based on a ll the lessons learned through large-scale capitalist culture. Socialism w ith o u t postal and telegraph services, w ith o u t machines, is the em ptiest o f phrases.” 5 T o b u ild socialism, insisted L e n in in 1919, “ W e m ust take the entire cu ltu re th a t capitalism le ft behind. . . . W e m ust take a ll its science, technology, knowledge and art. W ith o u t these we shall be unable to

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b u ild com m unist society.” 6 Q u ite apart from capitalism ’s mode o f pro­ duction and its technology, w hich Le n in largely treats as neutral and transferable to socialism, he even regarded elements o f the state appara­ tus its e lf in the same way. L e n in thus distinguished between the state’s repressive arm —its police, jails, armies—and its adm inistrative mecha­ nism , “ an apparatus w hich has extrem ely close connexions w ith the banks and syndicates . . . w hich perform s an enormous am ount o f ac­ co unting and registration w ork. . . . T h is apparatus must not and should not be smashed . . .” even though capitalist influence on it must be removed.7 “ W h ile the revolution in G erm any is s till slow com ing fo rth ,’ ” ob­ served L e n in in 1918 w ith chagrin, he adds, “ our task is to study the state capitalism o f the Germans, to spare no e ffo rt in copying it. O u r task is to hasten this copying o f the W estern culture by barbarous m eth­ ods in fig h tin g barbarism .” 8 (Is it really true, then, that there were no co ntinuities between S ta lin ’s terror and Leninism , and is S ta lin ’s claim that he was a d ilig e n t student o f Leninism so m anifestly false?) W e may also note that in 1917, L e n in had made no bones that “ W e shall not in ve n t the organizational form o f the w ork, b u t take it ready made from capitalism —we shall take over the banks, syndicates, the best fac­ tories, experim ental stations, academies, and so fo rth ; all that we shall have to do is borrow the best models furnished by the advanced coun­ tries.” 9 T h is was to include, he added, “ applying m uch o f w hat is scien­ tific and progressive in the T a ylo r system; we m ust make wages cor­ respond to the total am ount o f goods turned out, or to the am ount o f w ork done. . . .” 10 N o r d id L e n in hesitate in 1918 to draw the conclu­ sion that this required “ in d iv id u a l d ictatorial powers,” a strict u n ity ensured “ by thousands subordinating th e ir w ill to the w ill o f one . . . iron discipline w h ile at w ork . . . unquestioning obedience to the w ill o f a single person, the Soviet leader, w h ile at w ork.” 11 For L e n in , then, economic success—as d istin ct from p o litic a l—“ can be assured o n ly when the Russian proletarian state effectively controls a huge in d u stria l m achine b u ilt on up-to-date technology . . . ,” and it also requires “ raising the p ro d u ctivity o f labour . . . securing better or­ ganization o f labour . . . the raising o f the educational and cu ltu ra l level o f the mass o f the population. . . .” 12 A ll this, then, makes it plain that L e n in ism ’s horizon concerning the economy was that o f scientific M arxism , and was a u th e n tically continuous, as I have held, w ith the theory held by M a rx and Engels themselves, w ho continuously stressed the decisive im portance o f the level o f p ro d u ctivity fo r establishing social­ ism. W h ic h is to say: there is no L e n in ist c ru d ity here; there is no dis­ tortion o f M arxism in this.

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L e n in is at the same tim e perfectly clear w hat this construction o f socialism requires: As Carm en C la u d in -U ro nd o makes thoroughly evi­ dent in her jew el o f a book,13 this means that the accent was on acquir­ ing, not transform ing, bourgeois culture; on seeing it as useful kn o w l­ edge rather than as dangerous ideology; and w ith o u t conducting th a t critica l exam ination o f it w h ich m ig h t have separated out the cu ltu re ’s “ bourgeois” elements—w ith o u t, in short, m ounting a “ cu ltu ra l revolu* » tion. L e n in ’s “ socialism” rests in the end on the Promethean cu ltu re o f capitalism , having cu t away only its u n w o rth y property relationships and the old proprietary class o f moneyed capital. I t therefore also rests on and requires, as L e n in p la in ly argued, experts and intelligentsia essen­ tia lly sim ilar in th e ir social character and privilege to that in capitalist society, and who in themselves are no more to be changed by a cu ltu ra l revolution than is th e ir “ n e u tra l” knowledge itse lf. In the fu tu re , said L e n in in 1922, the bourgeois intellectuals—in w hom this advanced and necessary culture is embodied—need to be guarded by Soviet society “ as the apple o f th e ir eye.” 14 “ C apitalism had le ft us a valuable legacy,” said L e n in , “ in the shape o f its biggest experts. W e m ust be sure to u tilise them , and u tilise them on a broad and mass scale. . . .” 15 T h e y are no longer to be “ servitors o f the bourgeoisie” ; they are now a national re­ source w h ich the new Soviet society dare not squander. T h e in te lli­ gentsia is gradually to be won over to the society, p rim a rily by suasion and m aterial privileges, and is not to be ignored or terrorized. O n ly pseudo-radicals, said L e n in in 1919, im agine that “ the w orkin g people are capable of overcom ing capitalism and the bourgeois social system, w ith o u t learning from bourgeois specialists, w ith o u t m aking use o f th e ir services, and w ith o u t undergoing the tra in in g o f a lengthy period o f w ork side by side w ith them .” 16 T h is , o f course, is o f a piece w ith L e n in ’s W h a t Is T o Be Done? I f the la tte r held that only bourgeois intellectuals could create and trans­ m it a genuine socialist consciousness, and teach the w orkin g class how to th in k , here L e n in insists that only bourgeois intelligentsia can teach the w orkin g class how to w ork. In order to get the bourgeois experts to perform this fu n ctio n , added L e n in , “ we have to resort to the old bour­ geois method and agree to pay a very hig h price fo r the 'services’ o f the top bourgeois experts . . .” even though, as Le n in here acknow l­ edged, this violated the anti-careerist principles o f the Paris C om m une.17 T h e com m itm ent to p ro d u ctivity meant je ttiso n in g equality (and those communists com m itted to it ) and it meant a com m itm ent to the N e w Class. “ W e have m any such Com m unists among us,” said L e n in , speak­ in g o f those w ho could not w ork effectively w ith the intelligentsia, “ and

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I w ould gladly swap dozens o f them fo r one conscientious qualified bourgeois sp e cia list/'18 I t appears that som ething very m uch like this did indeed happen, and the trend lin e o f the proportion o f the college-edu­ cated and intelligentsia in the leadership o f the C P S U steadily increased over the years. I f the leadership o f the C om m unist Party o f the Soviet U n io n began, in clear conform ity w ith Lenin's emphasis on the im portance o f the teoretiki (as discussed in m y T he Future o f Intellectuals and the Rise o f the N e iv Class, 1979), by the early 1930s admission to the C P S U was fo rm a lly made more d iffic u lt fo r intellectuals, o f whom the rising Stalin then thought he had quite enough, id e n tify in g them w ith his p o litica l opposition. Yet after the 17th Congress o f the C P S U , the m urder o f K irov, and Stalin's clam p-down on the opposition, and as the Party opposition was destroyed, sometime between 1937 and 1940 there was then a return to a more frie n d ly policy toward recruitm ent o f the in te lli­ gentsia in to the Party. By 1939, almost 29 percent o f the secretaries o f republic, oblast, and krai committees had completed university educa­ tion, and another 30 percent had either a complete secondary education or some u n ive rsity education.19 By 1936, S talin was proclaim ing that the Soviet intelligentsia was a new group deserving o f confidence and support: “ O u r Soviet in te llig e n t­ sia is an e n tire ly new intelligentsia, bound up by its very roots w ith the w orkin g class and peasantry." In 1939 S talin denounced those Party members w ho held views hostile “ to the Soviet intelligentsia and incom ­ patible w ith the Party position. . . . T h is theory is out o f date and does not fit our new Soviet in te llig e n tsia ."20 I f at the 16th Party Congress in 1930, 4.4 percent o f the delegates had completed th e ir higher education, at the fa te fu l 17th Congress in 1934, I 5‘7 percent had completed higher education, and even after the purges and the near total destruction o f these 17th Congress delegates, the delegates to the next, the 18th, Congress o f the C P S U in 1939 had among them 26.5 percent w ho had completed th e ir higher education, another 5 percent w ith an incom pleted higher education, and almost 23 percent who had finished th e ir secondary education.21 T h e purges o f the th irties, then, were not as such aimed at the N ew Class or at block­ in g th e ir special class privileges, as Louis Althusser fancies, but, rather at destroying th e ir 'political autonom y and, especially, crushing th e ir tra­ d itio n a l im pulse toward the critiq u e o f a uthority, thus preventing their lin k-u p w ith the a n ti-S talinist faction. Once that had been done, and his own p o litica l power entrenched, Stalin continued the L e n in ist policy o f support fo r the inte llige n tsia and, indeed, o f special privileges fo r them .

46

M A R X IS M AN D T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

M arxism s am bivalent grounding in the status interests o f intellectuals came in to pointed co n flict w ith M aos cu ltu ra l revolutions. Indeed, these cu ltu ra l revolutions are to be understood as in part a confrontation w ith the N e w Class as it emerges under M a rxist hegemony. U n lik e any other M arxism in power, M aoism determ ined to b rin g intellectuals under con­ tro l and subject them to a radical egalitarianism . In the process, how ­ ever, the contradictions o f ra tio n a lity its e lf—w hich M arxism shares w ith W estern cu ltu re —were also acutely intensified and fe a rfu lly exhibited. M aoism provided a w eird glimpse o f the potentialities if not the prospect o f that ra tio na lity. In short, rather than being an altogether Asian eccen­ tric ity , we may th in k o f M aoism as having explored the lim its o f our own ra tio n a lity. T h e ra tio n a lity in w h ich the perm anent revolution o f our tim e is grounded is a self-contradictory, self-confounding structure. Its voice is the voice o f universal equality, b u t its hands are the hands o f a new elitism . Insofar as a M a rxist socialism embodies this ra tio n a lity it also partakes o f these contradictions. I t is both constrained and obligated to affirm e q uality: constrained by the need fo r the p o litica l m obilization o f masses and fo r its own legitim acy, obligated by reason o f its own ration­ a lity. I t is also constrained and obligated to affirm at least certain forms o f ra tio n a lity as not altogether identical w ith equality: constrained by the exigencies o f creating a technologically productive and adm inistra­ tiv e ly efficient new society, obligated by its own com m itm ent to ration­ a lity to recognize and reward inte lle ctu a l w orth, thus generating new social hierarchies. I t is precisely as this tension-filled ambivalence in M a rxist socialism m ounts that a socialist intelligentsia at last begins to become problem atic to its e lf and becomes aware o f its own social situation. T h e problem o f socialist alternatives becomes sharply posed at the concrete level: either S cientific M arxism , a bureaucratized and prudent social system that acknowledges and d iffe re n tia lly rewards differences in competence, thus u n d erm in in g the promise o f equality; or, C ritic a l M arxism , an uncom ­ prom ising com m itm ent to a fu ll equality o f rewards, com forts, and d a ily life styles fo r a ll, thus threatening adm inistrative efficiency, economic p ro d u ctivity, and p o litica l survival. A t this p o in t, there is a m ou ntin g tem ptation to sever the ancient W estern fusion o f power and know l­ edge—o f a governance grounded in knowledge. H ere, a lim it is reached that cannot be transcended w ith o u t contem plating the abolition o f the very social stratum that has histo rica lly reproduced that norm , the W est­ ern intelligentsia, and the academic in stitu tio n s and dialectic that re­ produce them .

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47

The Commitments of Marxism T o whom and w hat, fin a lly , is M arxism committed? T o hold that M a rx­ ism is an ideology o f intellectuals is not to deny that it is tru ly com m itted to the w orkin g class, nor even to im p ly that the latter is “ m erely” a means w ith w hich the N e w Class pursues its own ends. For i f there is an yth ing that modern organizational analysis has taught us it is that hum an “ instrum ents” are always recalcitrant, and readily become centers o f interest in th e ir own rig h t. Once p u b lic com m itm ents are made to any group, they are not easily set aside. Besides, w hy w ould the intelligentsia w ant to ignore the interests of the w o rkin g class? G iven its own lim ite d resources and numbers, the inte llige n tsia is constrained to collaborate w ith the w orkin g class and to attend to its interests, at least as it understands them . N o r is there reason to suppose that the in te llige n tsia s sympathy fo r the w o rkin g class is dissembled or that its expressions o f populism are cynical. There is, indeed, an im portant kin d o f egalitarianism in its own culture o f critica l discourse, prescribing as it does that it is the speech and not the speaker—or his social position—that counts. T h e N e w Class is an em bryonic p re-figuring o f the “ universal” class, or is as nearly such as our own flu id epoch may expect to see. T h e posi­ tion and tra in in g o f the intelligentsia p e rm it it a greater range o f ration­ a lity -in s tru m e n ta l and substantive—than that o f any other class today. Since its special status interests are invested in its educationally im ­ planted cu ltu re —its “ hum an capital” —the in te llig e n tsia ’s fundam ental precepts o f d istrib u tive justice may dispose it to promote social equity w ith in the fram ew ork o f a wage system, rather than by protecting in te r­ est, rents, and profits.22 T h a t is, the N ew Class’s p rin cip le o f d istrib u tive justice is, “ From each according to his a b ility, to each according to his w ork.” T h e N e w Class, then, is not egalitarian, and is a flawed universal class. I t insists that those w ho produce more and better w ork deserve superior rewards and privileges; and, believing that its own education, knowledge, and s k ill invest its w ork w ith superior value, the N ew Class also believes th a t it is especially e n titled to advantage. T h is seems as true fo r intellectuals under capitalism as under socialism, and fo r bour­ geois no less than socialist intellectuals. Yet we ought not conflate the two, since socialist intellectuals are tied to the w orkin g class p rim a rily by bonds o f ideology, and the proletariat has few effective sanctions it can impose on “ its” intellectuals, w h ile the bourgeoisie is capable o f im ­ posing p o w erful controls on its. As between proletariat and intellectual, who, then, is agent and w ho master?

48

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Interpretations o f M arxism are com m only caught between accepting M arxism s m ythical self-understanding as “ the consciousness o f the pro­ leta ria t,n or rejecting this w ith o u t c la rify in g the alternative. T h e choice is thus often between accepting M arxism s naive self-understanding or rejecting it by denying the possibility fo r any rational interpretation o f M arxism s class grounding. In a cynical version o f the latter, M arxism is thought o f as generated by pow er-hungry persons w ith no coherent class o rig in , w ith o n ly random interests o f th e ir own, bent on capriciously m an ip u latin g society, w h ile the “ ignorant masses” are seen as vulnerable to th e ir blandishm ents. M arxism is thus seen as irra tio n a l in inception and in reception. A focus on the role o f intellectuals in the origins o f M arxism , however, begins to recover its real class dim ension and, sur­ p risin g ly, w ith this, its ra tio n a lity. A n y conception o f M arxism as the consciousness o f the proletariat is m yth ifica tio n ; acknowledging the spe­ cial place o f intellectuals in M arxism begins to lif t the lim its on M a rx­ ism s own self-understanding and to deepen its potential fo r ra tio na lity.

The Ambiguous Archaeology of Marxism Yet sim ply to characterize M arxism as the ideology o f the N e w Class o f intellectuals and intelligentsia risks replacing the m yth o f the proletariat w ith a no less vulgar view o f the N e w Class as a new exploitative master class, w hich im plies an eternal “ circulation o f elites” w ith o u t real his­ torical change. A more serious answer, however, w ill note that the prole­ tariat, whose interests M arxism claim ed to represent, was never m erely a lie to disguise the interests o f the N e w Class. Rather, the proletariat is better understood as the radicalized in te llig e n tsia s m etaphor fo r a variety o f goods and values it has sought, and fo r its ideal no less than its mate­ ria l interests. T h e “ essence” o f the radical in te llig e n tsia s p o litica l strivin g is the removal o f any social obstacle to societal ra tio n a lity. T h is intelligentsia can be the enemy o f n o t o n ly the contradictions o f capitalist society b u t o f any society, anywhere in the w orld, at any level o f developm ent. T h e ir enemies may be moneylenders w ho exploit small peasants; the enemy may be rural landlords, local notables, or trib a l chieftains whose vested interests lead them to betray the rules that every modern elite promises to fo llo w : first, to act on behalf o f the co lle ctivity, and second, to live in conform ity w ith such rules as it professes. A M a rxist “ c ritiq u e ” is above a ll a critiq u e that focuses on the societal e lite s lack o f ra tio n a lity, here construed as th e ir fa ilu re to live by rules, especially rules they themselves affirm . M a rxist critiq u e thus takes the

M A R X IS M AS P O LIT IC S OF T H ^ N E W CLASS

*

49

special form , in M a rx ’s words, o f “ m aking these petrified relations dance by singing before them th e ir own tune.” M arxism , then, is a tacit promise of ra tio na lity. I t is a promise that socialists w ill constitute a new and legitim ate elite that w ill live by a set o f rules, most especially the rule o f every modem e lite: Serve the People. M arxists aver that th e ir new society w ill, in its m aturity, have no internal contradictions preventing them from conform ing to that rule, and that they w ill therefore actually give conform ity to it and provide at least a rational governance. A t the deeper reaches o f M arxism , w hat we unearth is the ancient com m itm ent to govern ra tio n a lly—the com m itm ent to the “ philosopher kin g .” T h a t is, it is a com m itm ent to that rule ca llin g fo r the u nification o f the good and the pow erful. I t is a promise to p u t governance in the hands o f those who, having no in s titu tio n a l blockages to such obedience, w ill, in tu rn , p u t themselves under the governance o f a rule o f law and ra tio n a lity. One o f M a rxism ’s deepest com m itm ents, then, is to ra tio n a lity and o n ly then to whatever else is necessary fo r that. I t is at this level that M arxism has its deepest a ffin ity fo r the N ew Class intellectuals and intelligentsia. R ationality and a “ ju s t” social order constitute th e ir ideal interest, from whose O lym pian perspective the w orkin g class’s m aterial interests appear shamelessly “ econom istic.” For such intellectuals, the aim o f socialist revolution is not to be reduced to a richer m aterial life w h ich , indeed, they may view as redolent o f petty bourgeois consumerism. T h e ir u ltim a te object is the enactm ent o f su­ preme values alongside w hich other goods may appear banal and readily sacrificable. A n d yet, there remains the N ew Class’s own elitism and insistence on privilege, legitim ated under the p rin cip le , From each ac­ cording to his a b ility, to each according to his w ork. Resting on a com­ m itm ent to p ro d u ctivity, M arxism accommodates to the N e w Class’s rejection o f equality. M ore than other M arxism s, M aoism had an eye fo r the dangers to the revolution arising w ith in M arxism itself, and recognized that these had a social infra stru ctu re in M arxism ’s alliance w ith the N e w Class. As we have seen, then, the successive waves of M ao’s cu ltu ra l revolu­ tions were an offensive m ounted less against the old bourgeoisie than against the C om m unist Party and its fusion w ith the N ew Class, against the tra d ition a l privileges o f the intelligentsia, and against the educational in stitu tio n s through w hich the N ew Class ro u tin e ly reproduces itself. M u ch o f the p o in t o f M ao’s cu ltu ra l revolutions, then, was directed against the new cu ltu ra l bourgeoisie whose economic grounding was not in money b u t in hum an or cu ltu ra l capital, education, in vo lvin g the

5°

M A R X IS M AN D T H E IN T E L L E C T U A L S

private enclosure o f the cu ltu re commons, and whose emergence M ao sought to block. A lth o u g h at this tim e the story is fa r from ended, it now seems that M ao has lost, that his cu ltu ra l revolutions and th e ir changes have been liquidated, and that Chinese M arxism , too, has allied its e lf w ith a resurgent N e w Class. M arxism , then, lives on tw o levels: at one, it is a revolutionary mate­ rialism suspicious o f theory and intellectuals, and opposed to the old capitalist order on behalf o f the w orkin g class's self-em ancipation. A t another increasingly visible level, however, M arxism is com m itted both to the power o f ideas to change the w orld and to the p u rsu it o f produc­ tiv ity . Both these latte r com m itm ents open M arxism to intellectuals and intelligentsia, to a ra tio n a lity that premises all speakers are equal, b u t w h ich also demands that those w ho are in te lle ctu a lly superior—in th e ir contributions to tru th or to p ro d u ctivity—deserve superior rewards. In this, in all o f it —in the goals and in the privileges offered those achieving them —M arxism converges w ith its sworn enemy and has secreted w ith in its e lf part o f its adversary's culture. Even 'perm anent re vo lu tio n " was begun by the bourgeoisie. T h e u ltim a te m eaning o f the revolution en 'permanence was, however, interpreted by the M aoists as re q u irin g a critiq u e o f the C om m unist Party its e lf and brought M aoism to the b rin k o f transcending even M arxism . M aoism , then, was that M arxism on the verge o f liq u id a tin g its e lf on behalf o f an uncom prom ising equality. U n lik e the N ew Class, M aoism was eager to say w ith Gracchus Babeuf: "L e t all the arts perish if need be, i f only we have true equal­ ity ." Yet o n ly those w ho have not paid close attention w ill fa il to notice that the surfacing o f the near hysteria against cu ltu re on behalf o f equal­ ity is today by no means a u n iq u e ly Chinese or even a M a rxist peculiar­ ity . T h e p u b lic defacements o f great art in recent years in Am sterdam , Rome, and the P hilippines te ll th e ir own story. T h e B akuninist project o f the liq u id a tio n o f cu ltu re is cu rre n tly reborn and legitim ated by the quest fo r equality. O r perhaps our own involvem ent w ill be plain enough i f we remember that it was, after a ll, Gracchus Babeuf, good Frenchm an th a t he was, w ho spoke as he did. In a rather remarkable docum ent, Thom as C ottle describes how he spent the afternoon w ith a Black ch ild , whose fa m ily he knows w e ll. H e and the c h ild had visited university laboratories in Cam bridge (M assa­ chusetts) because the ch ild was interested in science. T h is is w hat C ottle reports the m other as saying, upon th e ir return home. So you took my boy to see all the famous scientists this afternoon. . . . T hat boy and his love of science. . . . Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hatred of these folks away from his hearing? . . . Scien­ tists . . . rich folks is what they are. . . . M aking up problems where

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problems don’t really exist. M aking things complicated when really what we need done is so simple a child could understand . . . what good are they doing for this country? W hat good are they doing for the Black folks? W hat do they find to do w ith all that money? M aking their ex­ periments and all, and just who do they experiment on? . . . they got better conditions for the dogs they do their experiments on than we’ve got for our children. . . . I blame them all, every one of them . . . you folks are responsible for making the whole community filled w ith bad cells, evil cells. . . ,23 Signals grow clearer that a period o f the moyenne duree (w h ic h be­ gan w ith the in d u stria l re v o lu tio n ) may be ending; that a new culture o f m aterial scarcities w ill require a redefinition o f a ll previous conflicts, that strains w ill in te n sify irra tio n a litie s, and that the support fo r m aterial w elfare once joined w ith support o f culture, may have been b u t a tem porary alliance. T h e M a rxist p u rsu it o f socialism was never intended as the achievem ent o f m aterial w elfare alone. A lth o u g h it premised that the latte r was necessary, M arxism was also u ltim a te ly grounded in the E n lig h te n m e n ts project, and the hum an em ancipation it sought fused both m aterial w elfare and enlightenm ent or culture. T h e signals now being received, however, may w e ll forecast an end to the in fin ite eco­ nom ic progress M arxism more than ta citly premised; this then spurs the grow th o f irra tio n a l hostilities to culture, so that both pillars o f the M a rxist project o f em ancipation are in p e ril.

II The Ecology of Marxism

3 Popular Materialism and Historical Origins of Marxism

M arxism emerged in part as a response to the development o f indus­ trialism in W estern Europe and the resulting social disruption and h u ­ man m isery that Engels had studied in M anchester. Yet it was a response grounded in the everyday cu ltu re o f a C hristian Europe that was in some respects thousands o f years old; more than that, and despite a ll o f M a rx ’s cosm opolitanizing travels, the M a rxist response was p a rtly a special product o f the German society by w hich M a rx and Engels had first been form ed. As M a rx liked to say, “ I am by b irth a G erm an.” 1 W h a t he never said and hated to hear,2 however, was that although baptized at age six, he had also been bom a Jew, the descendant o f a famous lin e o f rabbis going back to the late M id d le Ages. Despite this, or perhaps because o f this, he had little or no sym pathy fo r Jews, to say the least. As his favorite daughter, Eleanor, ru e fu lly said, “ I am the only one o f m y fa m ily w ho fe lt drawn to Jewish people. . . .” 3 M a rx w ould have been the first to agree that it was not o n ly M a rx the th in ke r th a t made M arxism , b u t the w hole M arx, in clu d in g the bap­ tized Germ an Jew w ho had been bom in to Europe at a very special m om ent in its history. In this and the chapter fo llo w in g , I w ill assess the consequences o f M a rxism s emergence in this p articular historical and cu ltu ra l m ilie u . T h e thesis is that elements o f popular culture structure theoretical cu l­ ture via the m ediation o f the theorist’s personal experience. T h e theory in some part expresses w hat the theorist, as a w hole person, knows prac­ tic a lly and pre-theoretically. T hus, I w ill argue that M arxism was origi-

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n a lly shaped, in 'part, by an h isto rica lly specific cu ltu re o f popular ma­ terialism and, in particular, by its id e n tifica tio n o f one part o f that m aterialism w ith Judaism and huckstering. T h is cu ltu ra l ecology o f M arxism , as I w ill show, both provided it w ith theoretical resources and resonances as w e ll as lim ite d its u ltim a te potential fo r ra tio n a lity in im portant ways.

Preface to 1848 M a rx and Engels were educated in the German society that emerged fo llo w in g the defeat o f N apoleon, to w hich the German W a r o f Libera­ tion in 1813 contributed, and in an inte rna tio n a l setting that the 1815 peace settlem ent o f V ienna sought to stabilize.4 From 1815 u n til the revolutions in 1848, this was the era o f M e tte m ich . T h e European set­ tlem ent he pursued sought to bottle up the bourgeois revolution, to re­ strict its spread throughout C entral Europe, and, above all, to prevent the recurrence o f Jacobinism and revolution. T h e system o f governance to w hich it le n t support on the European continent sought to steady the power o f the elites and in stitu tio n s o f the old regimes, that were fo r the most part dom inated by wow-bourgeois groups and pre-bourgeois in s titu ­ tions. A t the same tim e, however, the economies and social structures under­ ly in g this system o f governance continued to change and became increas­ in g ly m iddle class in character. There was thus a European-wide tension between the backward-looking systems o f governance established after 1815 and the new economies and em erging social structures. T h e exist­ in g regimes could m aintain themselves o n ly by co n tin u in g efforts to con­ tro l, to repress, and to m anipulate the new ly em erging social structures and groups. In 1848, however, they were brought to revolution. T h e Germ any in to w hich M a rx and Engels were born had seen the h u m ilia tin g French conquest revenged and expunged, now m aking it easier fo r the young to adopt cosmopolitan views. I t was a Germ any whose fu rth e r developm ent was uo longer subordinated to a foreign conqueror and in w h ich , therefore, a politics was now possible; there was now less need to sublim ate p o litica l am bition in to cu ltu ra l aspiration. T h e movement fo r a cu ltu ra l revitalization that had been spearheaded previously by German Idealism and Rom anticism m ig h t now launch a p o litica l and social reconstruction. German Rom anticism was thus trans­ cended (n o t superseded) by “ T h e Young German M o ve m e n t/' Aes­ thetic criticism and metaphysics gave way to social criticism and p o litica l reorganization. A t the same tim e, however, significant continuities prevailed in Ger-

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57

man cu ltu re and social structure. One o f the most im portant o f these, w hich had emerged in Prussia even p rio r to German Rom anticism , was the rationalistic drive o f the German state itse lf and most especially o f Prussia. T h e German A u fk la rn n g had proceeded under state auspices and had served in effect as a philosophy o f the state. Prussian politics and adm inistration had proceeded w ith a high degree of instrum ental rationalism and self-consciousness; it was a rationalism early subordinated to “ reasons o f state” and whose character became increasingly suffused w ith R e a lp o litik. D u rin g the German subjection to N apoleonic power, the Prussian state had m obilized a “ reform from above,” strengthening itse lf in prep­ aration fo r Napoleon s overthrow . Even p rio r to the French revolution there had been efforts at agrarian reform m otivated by the kin g s desire to check his aristocracy, to prevent unrest, and to m aintain the peasantry as a basis o f m ilita ry power, and these state initia tive s were accelerated by the N apoleonic presence. Various strategies fo r e lim in a tin g serfdom were pursued w h ich perm itted the serfs to escape from feudal obliga­ tions, often, however, on the condition that they cede part o f th e ir land to th e ir m anorial lord w ho, in tu rn , no longer had the obligation to protect, lodge, or feed them . A g ricu ltu re became increasingly capitalistic and entrepreneurial, enabling the German aristocracy to adapt to the em erging m arket economy. H ow ever, w h ile it became easier fo r them to buy or seize certain peasant properties, th e ir own property was also in ­ creasingly enmeshed in m arket in stitu tio n s; it could be marketed, or bought and sold, w ith the result that even before 1848 the m iddle classes themselves were getting a solid foothold in Junker estates. T h e period after 1815 in G erm any saw great economic and demo­ graphic change. In 1800, for example, there were only about five G er­ man jo in t stock companies; in 1825, however, there were some tw entyfive o f these in the H ohenzollem possessions alone; and by 1850, there were more than one hundred jo in t stock companies there. Between 1834 and 1848, the investm ent in heavy ind u stry and railroads grew apace. D u rin g those fourteen years, some sixty m illio n marks were invested in Prussian heavy ind u stry and some 450 m illio n marks in Prussian ra il­ roads. By 1850 German railroads had reduced the cost o f shipping one ton o f coal per kilom eter from fo rty pfennigs to less than thirteen. Gen­ erally, in this period the grow th o f the ind u stria l w orking classes in Germ any was somewhat slower than in either France or England. T h ro u g h o u t all the Germanies, factory workers were then probably no more than about one-third the num ber o f non-agricultural workers. From about 1815 u n til the great depression o f the mid-1840s, factory wages were increasing and factory workers had a higher standard o f

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liv in g than those w orkin g in agriculture or as artisans in shops. S till, th e ir w o rkin g day was between twelve to eighteen hours; they were fre­ qu e ntly subject to various factory fines; th e ir wages were sometimes paid in tru ck produce whose value was established by th e ir em ployer; c h ild and female labor was extensive. Indeed, as late as the m iddle o f the nineteenth century, about 5 percent o f a ll Prussian factory workers were children under fifteen years o f age. In 1839, however, K in g Frederick W ilh e lm I I I , in large part out o f concern fo r m ilita ry efficiency, passed the first ch ild labor law , p ro h ib itin g the em ploym ent o f children under nin e as factory labor, and benevolently restricting those under sixteen to a mere ten hours a day. From 1815 to 1845 the population o f the Germanies grew about 38 percent, that is, from about 25,000,000 to about 34,500,000. W ith this, and p a rticu la rly in the western and southern parts o f Germ any, there was a grow ing problem o f relative overpopulation, an increasing labor supply, a grow ing land hunger, and a grow ing pressure fo r em igration from the countryside to the cities. Even in 1848, however, tw o-thirds o f a ll Germans were s till liv in g on the land. Yet the grow th o f urban populations is also p la in ly visible i f it is remembered that, at the tim e o f the Congress o f V ienna (a t the beginning o f this p e rio d ), about 80 per­ cent o f a ll Germans then lived on the land. T h e German agrarian problem intensified, p a rtly because o f grow ing land hunger, p a rtly because o f grow ing needs fo r economic efficiency, and p a rtly because serfdom its e lf became increasingly regarded as im ­ moral, w h ile at the same tim e the actual rate o f peasant em ancipation was extrem ely slow. Indeed, between 1811 and 1848, only about 70,000 peasants in East Prussia had freed themselves, and in most cases this had required the cession o f some part o f th e ir land, w h ile another 170,000 had freed themselves through money payments. In contrast, and on the basis o f the Law o f 1850, some 640,000 peasants had freed themselves in East Prussia between that tim e and 1865, and in this case p rim a rily by money payments rather than by ceding land. T h e grow th o f capitalist in stitu tio n s *and industrialism , however, d id n o t disturb m erely the ru ra l countryside and its in stitu tio n s b u t also the city and its institu tio ns. As a consequence o f large intra-national m igra­ tions m any city-dwellers were newcomers uncom fortable w ith urban life . Increasing ind ustrialization m eant the destruction o f guilds and the old protections that these afforded artisans. Nonetheless, this change took place more gradually in C entral than in W estern Europe and it was, fo r the most part, only after the French revolution that the guilds lost th e ir ancient prerogatives in C entral Europe. W h ile the period o f French dom ination had been a period o f liberal

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reform by the German state, in the period after liberation reform gave way to conservatism and reaction by the state. A fte r 1813 the German m iddle classes were poorly represented in the Diets o f German provinces w hich were, to boot, relatively powerless. T h e m iddle classes experi­ enced themselves as being taxed b u t underprivileged, as being subordi­ nated to an aristocracy u n ju s tly preferred by the C ourt and the A rm y, and as having to pursue economic developm ent w ith in the confines o f a disunited Germ any w ith its costly variety o f legal and m onetary systems. Resentment spread d iffusely throughout the m iddle and, especially, low er m iddle classes in G erm any, and they began to press fo r liberal reforms, for in stitu tio n s fa c ilita tin g economic development. T h e y sought expansion o f the Customs U n io n to all the Germanies; a unified system o f transport and com m unication; greater freedom o f enterprise and o f occupational movement. T h e y began, also, to develop various programs fo r a liberal constitu­ tionalism and extension o f the franchise w ith in w hich they, at least, could have more p o litica l influence, although they com m only did not press fo r universal manhood suffrage. A nother form o f em erging opposi­ tion to royal absolutism, however, was a more radical, democratic, or Jacobin-tinged opposition w h ich did stress universal manhood suffrage, as w e ll as increased w elfare legislation; opting fo r a republican govern­ m ent, it sought reforms in a less com prom ising sp irit. T h e dissatisfactions o f the em erging in d u stria l proletariat, o f the confined and relatively im potent m iddle classes, and o f the peasantry or serfs, d iffe re n t though they were, came to be united against royal abso­ lutism by the depression that began in the Germanies in the mid-1840s. T h e effects o f this depression were coincident w ith a m ajor European fam ine, the potato b lig h t o f 1845, th a t deprived the low er classes o f one o f th e ir staple foods. As a result between 1844 and 1847 food prices rose about 50 percent concurrent w ith grow ing unem ploym ent and destitu­ tion. I t has been estimated that 10 percent o f the B erlin population in 1846 were liv in g by either crim e or p ro stitu tio n . W idespread and mass hunger riots began to occur in G erm any in the years before 1848. There were peasant insurrections in the countryside, artisan riots in the city. W hen Louis P h ilippe was driven from his throne by the masses o f Paris, the signal was given fo r European-wide revolution. I t was plain that the old order was in desperate straits when the Habsburgs forced the resignation of M e tte rn ich . I t was in this revolutionary historical set­ tin g that M arxism was conceived and developed. M u ch o f the experience o f the forties had added up to this: (1 ) T h a t the economic and p o litica l orders were increasingly dis­ tinguishable and differentiated spheres; it was p u b lic ly m anifest that it

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was one th in g to demand the franchise and quite another to seek w elfare legislation; that it was one th in g to be able to vote and another to be able to eat. ( 2 ) M ost p a rticu la rly, w ith the depression and fam ine, it was evident that economic cycles had a certain autonom y and d id not depend on (a n d m ig h t not be circum vented b y ) the p o litica l actions o f parliam ents or the decisions o f constitutional conventions. I t was seen that “ objec­ tive ” structures, as d istin ct from governm ent policies, affected outcomes. ( 3 ) I t was also seen increasingly that p o litica l forces—e.g., the p o liti­ cal interest o f the m iddle class in opposing urban riots and peasant uprisings—were rooted in economic interests and motives. T h e p o litica l sphere was w id e ly com ing to be looked upon as a structure shaped by m aterial forces and motives external to it. T h e common experience seemed to indicate the weakness o f p o litics and the potency o f econom­ ics. T h is, at any rate, was a d e fin itio n o f society congenial to a m iddle class whose own everyday life testified to the difference between th e ir economic and p o litica l positions, to the weakness o f th e ir politics, and to the grow ing power o f th e ir economic position.

Revolution and Reaction W ith the beginning o f the German revolution o f 1848, the liberals were swept in to office. Once there, however, they almost im m ediately sought to repress the disorder and to control the urban masses and peasant jacqueries. T h e Jacobin impulses o f the middle-class revolution were im m ediately smothered, and fo r m uch the same reasons that had brought T h e rm id o r in France. T h e m iddle class feared the danger to th e ir prop­ erty, w h ich was probably realistically greater than that existing w hen the French revolution had first taken place, given the greater developm ent o f the ind u stria l w orkin g classes by 1848. T h e C om m unist M anifesto was undoubtedly correct in stating that m any o f the European m iddle classes were then haunted by the specter o f com m unism . I t was very largely these fears o f social revolution and o f danger to property that disposed the new middle-class governments to crush the disorders: “ From the destruction o f ledgers and registers o f landed hold­ ings it is b u t one step to the destruction o f mortgage records and prom is­ sory notes to the division o f property or a common ownership o f goods.” 5 In short, “ mob violence” was seen by some as leading to com m unism and as rooted in the economic and property interests—i.e., in the “ m aterial” interests—o f urban masses. T h e urban “ m ob” was not seen (b y the m id ­ dle class) as m otivated by ideology, ethics, or m oral outrage b u t by the base “ interests” o f its “ m aterial” condition. T h is was a view congenial to

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a m iddle class that took it fo r granted that ( its ) property interests were the foundation o f social order. T h e very success o f the new liberal governments in repressing mass m ilita n cy succeeded in destroying th e ir own p o litica l position. In re­ pressing the urban and rural masses, the liberal m iddle classes sim ulta­ neously lost them as allies, thus exposing themselves to the power o f the m onarchy. A nd it was not o n ly th e ir p o litica l repressiveness that isolated the m iddle classes, b u t th e ir economic policies as w ell. T h e economic liberalism o f the m iddle classes w hich sought to remove guild restrictions had the effect o f th ru stin g the most m ilita n t w in g o f the revolution— nam ely, the artisans, w ho were com m only the streetfighters—back in to the w elcom ing hands o f the conservative-aristocratic faction. In this way, the middle-class revolution in Germ any, having isolated itse lf from its own allies, was crushed. W ith the defeat o f the revolution o f 1848, its leaders were s w iftly dis­ posed o f: some were q u ickly dismissed from governm ent, some tried and executed, others received long prison sentences, s till others were expelled from th e ir towns or bureaucratically harassed w h ile rem aining there, some lost th e ir jobs, and some fled abroad. A cold wave o f repression passed over German in stitu tio n s: newspapers were intim idated; p o litica l meetings were subject to increased police surveillance; religious instruc­ tion was intensified in the schools. T h e defeat o f the German revolution o f 1848 was one o f the water­ sheds o f modern German historv. O u t o f it came a form o f economic developm ent w hich required the subordination o f the German m iddle classes to a Prussian p o litica l fram ew ork based on the hegemony o f an aristocratic elite and a rational bureaucracy united by a nationalistic ideology. T h e liberals rem aining in Germ any, at least im m ediately after the defeat, had little room fo r p o litica l maneuver, and whatever im prove­ m ent they could foresee looked to the fu tu re . A t this tim e, a period o f economic recovery from the depression set in —a recovery that (according to some accounts) had already started shortly before the revolution itse lf and w hich was s w iftly consolidated after its defeat. T h e period that fo l­ lowed was one o f im proved liv in g standards and intensified economic grow th. Here, again, middle-class experience m igh t be read as confirm ing the d istin ctio n between the p o litica l and economic orders, and the autonomy o f the economic. Its defeat in politics was, in a way, compensated fo r by the im provem ent in business conditions and opportunities; a kind o f vulgar, economic m aterialism blanketed some sections of the m iddle classes w h ile the in d u stria l w orkin g class continued, as before, to focus upon the im provem ent o f its own economic conditions.

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Popular Materialism: The Economic Under the Political One m ajor consequence o f the defeat o f the Germ an revolution was an accelerated e ffort to develop the German w elfare state. Conservative and aristocratic factions began developing programs and policies that sought to forge an alliance between the C row n and the proletariat against the lib e ra l m iddle class, and to ju s tify autocratic power by developing a m onarchy o f social justice. N o t w ith o u t reason, the conservative-aristocratic alliance conceived o f the w orkin g class—and, indeed, o f others—as capable o f being placated by concessions to th e ir m aterial w elfare and economic interests. T h e y began to operate on the assumption th a t it was very largely these eco­ nom ic interests that were at the core o f p o litica l am bitions. In short, the Germ an “ w elfare state” began to emerge w e ll p rio r to Bismarck's govern­ m ent as a deliberate stratagem o f social control. T hus, one o f K in g Frederick W ilh e lm IV s advisers, General Joseph von Radowitz, advised the kin g as follow s: “ A n y form o f governm ent w hich defends its interests b o ld ly and wisely, w hich advocates the progressive income tax, the sys­ tem o f poor re lie f, the regulation o f conflicts between capital and labor, w ill have the common m an' on its side and thus a p ow erful force.” 6 T h is advice was seconded by the historian Leopold von Ranke, w ho wrote the kin g that . . . It is dangerous to train year after year the entire youthful popula­ tion in the use of arms, and then alienate a large and physically perhaps the most vigorous part, leaving it exposed to the agitation of the enemies of all order. Either we must exempt the propertyless from the duty to serve the army, or we must place them under an obligation to the state by the prospect of gainful employment. Since the first course is out of the question because it would reduce our m ilitary strength, nothing re­ mains but the second alternative.7 T h e Professor and the General thus agreed th a t w hat G erm any needed was a “ w elfare” state; they also agreed ta citly that such a w elfare state did not preclude a warfare state, b u t rather strengthened it. T o repeat: this p o litica l stratagem largely rested upon a ta cit concep­ tion o f the nature o f p o litica l m otivation and the sources o f p o litica l unrest. I t premised th a t p o litica l unrest can be obviated by economic and “ m aterial” concessions. I t therefore premised that at the core o f the p o litica l man there is an economic man. Such a “ m aterialism ” was con­ sonant w ith the everyday life o f the Germ an (and W e ste rn ) m iddle classes, convinced as they were that the foundation o f order was prop-

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erty. W h a t was happening was that the p o litic a lly dom inant aristocracy was in effect coopting the m aterialist discourse long current among the moneyed bourgeoisie. A new found emphasis on and widespread respect fo r the “ m aterial” factor in politics and history thus emerged in G er­ many, an emphasis vita l b u t by no means peculiar to M arxism . In a speech to the Association fo r the Protection o f Property, Ernst von Bulow-Com m erow insisted th a t: “ m aterial interests have a significance outw eighing a ll others, and by pursuing them we w ill always be on firm grounds. L e t us exert all our energies to advance these interests.” 8 In A p ril o f 1848, when Bismarck had asserted that “ . . . we live in a tim e o f m aterial interests,” he too acknowledged th e ir potency even though com plaining o f it. By June o f 1851, however, an orientation to m aterial interests had become central to Bism arck’s strategy o f Realp o litik . “ I w ould consider it most useful,” he then remarked, “ if we were to concern ourselves in good tim e w ith questions o f German m aterial w elfare.” 9 Again in 1862, in his famous address to the Budget C om m it­ tee o f the Prussian legislature, Bismarck stated, “ T h e great questions o f the tim e are decided not by speeches and m a jo rity resolutions. T h a t was the mistake o f 1848 and 1849. T h e y are decided by blood and iro n .” In short, the great questions o f the tim e were to be dealt w ith , accord­ in g to Bismarck, not by parliam entary politics b u t by the “ hardest” o f m aterial concerns. These m aterial factors are symbolized by the “ blood and iro n ” w hich he counterposed to debate and discussion, im p lyin g that the la tte r are em pty rhetoric. M aterialism , in short, became an as­ pect o f the everyday ideology o f Germ an high politics and it emerged, in some part at least, in the course o f a polem ic against the realm o f ra tio n a lity and rational discussion. Everyday “ vulgar” m aterialism im ­ plied that rationalism was a “ paper tig e r.” Popular m aterialism devel­ oped by counterposing its e lf to idealism : to be p o litica l meant to be realistic—i.e., not to confuse one’s ideals w ith the “ hard” realities—and to be realistic meant, fo r many, to acknowledge the force and legitim acy o f m aterialistic interests. T h is popular m aterialism entailed certain basic assumptions about man and society. T here is, first, an assumption about the d istin ctio n be­ tween the economy and p o lity w hich converges w ith the widespread d istin ctio n between “ civic society” and the “ state,” and, second, there is an assumption about the p rio rity o f the economy, that politics and ideol­ ogy depend on m aterial interests. T h is m aterialism was not a narrow technical doctrine o f philosophers b u t background assumptions o f every­ day life w id e ly shared among the European m iddle classes d u rin g their emergence in p u b lic life . As one observer remarked in 1847, “ as long as there was an honest livelihood, none o f the Silesian weavers paid

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any attention to C om m unist agitation.” 10 M a rx s own m aterialism was grounded in a popular m aterialism that was not then the m onopoly o f the le ft, o f the radicals, or o f revolutionary groups; indeed, at certain periods, it was no less attractive to conservative thinkers and to estab­ lished or dom inant social classes. A n interesting case in p o in t o f a conservative—indeed, o f a m onarchist —who was also attracted to the em erging 'm a te ria lis t” background as­ sum ptions was Lorenz von Stein. In m anifest kinsh ip w ith M a rx s mate­ rialism , Stein s views postulated "the conflict o f interests between social classes in the center . . . o f history . . .” n and held that "the d iffe r­ entiation o f w ealth and status established a class pattern in any soci­ ety. . . .” Stein s concept o f class is based m a in ly on the d istrib u tio n o f property; " . . . he often speaks o f the property-ow ning vs. the property­ less classes. . . / ” 12 In his study o f France, he regards property as the decisive factor in modem society. H e held that "state power becomes misused in the interest o f the upper class.” 13 "H e considered changes in constitutional and c iv il law to be the result o f economic factors rather than ideas. . . .” 14 "H e devel­ oped the concept o f the proletariat . . . [seeing it] as a class-conscious u n it struggling fo r power in p u rsu it o f th e ir interests.” 15 U n lik e M a rx, however, Stein d id not see the destruction o f capitalism as inevitable; Stein regarded the proletariat as p o te n tia lly dangerous to society and as needing to be protected by social reforms that, he believed, the state m ig h t in itia te to protect private property. Stein s m aterialism , then, was a conservative version o f the popular m aterialism o f everyday life . M a rx s m aterialism was a radical revision o f the popular m aterialism o f every­ day life and thus a product o f bourgeois culture and its m aterialist dis­ course.

Interests and Popular M aterialism 16 Popular m aterialism was (and is ) a tacit theory o f hum an nature and o f social action w hich is nucleated, in part, by assumptions concerning "interests” and "interest.” As a first step, it is useful to notice that, in this everyday theory, interests = m aterial; that is, "m aterial” and "interests” have a m etaphorical equivalence. A ccording to the rules o f popular m aterialism , one may speak o f "m aterial interests,” b u t one is more lik e ly to refer to sp iritu a l "com m itm ents” rather than interests. T h e idea o f an "ideal interest” w ill later be form ulated, b u t p rim a rily on the basis o f a post-M arxist analogy w ith "m aterial interests.” Interests thus in ­ vokes the m aterial and the m aterial invokes interests; the sense o f each im plicates the other.

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As m aterial,” interest has the sense o f a hard, tangible th in g —on a tacit analogy w ith “ m atter” —having substance and w eight, lim itin g , shaping, and affecting outcomes, needing to be adapted to. A n interest is an out-there th in g existing apart from w hat anyone thinks o f it, thus constraining persons and th e ir plans. In popular m aterialism , an interest does not arise from a choice made by actors b u t resides outside o f them, co n stitu tin g the grounds to w hich th e ir action must adapt. One does not choose ones interests as one m ig h t an ideology b u t rather these impose themselves as constraints. T h e idea o f an interest, therefore, is im p li­ cated in the metaphysics o f constraint. C onstraint is the fetishistic struc­ turalism o f an im personal interest; u n like the exercise o f force and violence, it is not in flicte d by persons b u t by things—structures or sys­ tems. W h ile knowledge about interests may require w ork, interests them ­ selves are not conceived as worked-up and produced but, rather, as hav­ in g a kin d o f presented “ givenness.” T h e givenness o f interests has the character o f a non-negotiable th in g w hich , being lin ke d to a gratifica­ tion, resists appraisals that m ig h t in h ib it or frustrate it. In popular m aterialism , an interest, then, is that w h ich is experienced and pre­ sented as beyond discussion. I t is the starting p o in t and motor o f discus­ sion rather than a topic o f discussion. W h a t is in our interests is taken as already there and, indeed, as usually known in tu itiv e ly to the norm al actor; efforts to make it problem atic are experienced as unrealistic or “ double-talk.” Common sense assumes that you cannot ta lk someone in to accepting slavery or his own capital punishm ent. M a te ria l interests are thus dissonant w ith rational discourse, for ra­ tional discourse never regards a n yth in g as perm anently unproblem atic and beyond discussion. Status groups whose ideology centers on discourse are, therefore, lik e ly to experience the rhetoric o f m aterial interests as vio la tin g the norms o f ra tio n a lity. H ere is an essential tension between the propertied section o f the m iddle class and its educated sector, the N e w Class intellectuals. T h e latter, or radicalized sections o f them, are w illin g to make the property interests o f the m iddle class problem atic and to discuss them critic a lly . I f this tension is one source o f the intellectuals’ critiqu e o f bourgeois society and o f th e ir own alienation from it, it is also a basic source o f the false consciousness o f the N e w Class o f intellectuals and intelligentsia insofar as they conceive themselves as “ autonomous” —i.e., as free o f lim ­ itin g class (o r m a te ria l) interests. A part from m anifest social conflicts based on opposing m aterial interests, there is, then, a hidden conflict in bourgeois society, the co n flict between social strata governed by the rhetoric o f “ interests” and others w ho conceive themselves as controlled

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by com m itm ents to “ ra tio n a lity .” From this standpoint, a sector o f the intelligentsia places its e lf in opposition to the bourgeoisie, not o n ly be­ cause th e ir “ interests” are in opposition, b u t also because the very mate­ ria list logic o f interest is offensive to the in te llig e n tsia ’s ideology—i.e., its com m itm ent to discursive ra tio n a lity. M arxism thus views the bourgeoisie—and not o n ly them —as possessing a common interest w hich, in tu rn , is understood as an ultim a te lim it on th e ir ra tio na lity. T h e proletariat is seen in lik e m anner: as having in te r­ ests that oppose those o f the bourgeoisie. “ P ro fit rises in the same degree in w h ich wages fa ll,” observed M arx, and “ it falls in the same degree in w h ich wages rise.” 17 Yet even the proletariat’s own im m ediate interests in “ m aterial” benefits are also seen as in h ib itin g p u rsu it o f its own longrange interests. T h e proletariat’s interest in higher wages and better w orkin g conditions may d ive rt it from its historical mission o f overthrow ­ in g the entire wage-labor system and replacing it w ith an em ancipatory so cia lism /'. . . [T ]h e w orking class ought not to exaggerate to themselves the ultim a te w orking o f these everyday struggles,” warned M a rx; “ they ought not to forget they are fig h tin g w ith effects, b u t not w ith the causes o f these effects.” 18 In confusing surface appearances w ith reality, effects fo r causes, the w orking class is clearly m anifesting a defective ra tio n a lity . A w orkin g class’s exclusive focus on the im m ediate, on m aterial in ­ terests, is thus seen as m anifesting the lim its o f its everyday, commonsensical theory o f action; revealing a tacit theory that needs to be trans­ cended by a larger, more encompassing and articulate ra tio n a lity, w h ich incorporates b u t does not lim it its e lf to the logic o f interests. T h e w ork­ in g class’s everyday, “ n a tu ra l” theory o f action is in effect a popular m aterialism that it has not yet transcended. In L e n in ’s later term , this m aterialism w ill be characterized and condemned as “ economism.” L e n in and Kautsky w ill also both argue that the proletariat must, i f it is to emancipate itself, be subjected to a higher ra tio n a lity, to a theory that w ill free it from its bondage to im m ediate interests. T h is theory, both Kautsky and L e n in agree, can come only from bourgeois intellectuals outside the proletariat. T h is ta citly says that the w orkin g class m ust accept the governance o f a theoretical ra tio n a lity (a n d o f status groups bearing i t ) that c ritic a lly examines unexam ined interest and w h ich sublates the w orking class’s popular m aterialism . M arxism thus accepts popular m aterialism , and w ith this the w orkin g class’s everyday theory o f interests, b u t o n ly to a lim ite d extent, o n ly as a starting mechanism to launch the proletariat in “ spontaneous,” i.e., in te r­ est spurred, struggle against the bourgeoisie. For interests o f the w orkin g class are seen as lim ite d . T h e y p erm it w hat is at best a courageous b u t

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essentially b lin d g u e rrilla warfare and are unable to b rin g the w orking class’s struggle to a successful em ancipatory conclusion. M arxism ’s “ m aterialism ” thus incorporates popular m aterialism b u t also transcends it. M arxism converges w ith popular m aterialism ’s critiqu e o f the weakness o f ra tio n a lity, discourse, and parliam entarianism and its e ffort to ground its e lf in som ething “ stronger” than “ mere ta lk,” —i.e., in power, in struggle (i.e ., “ blood and iro n ” ), and in the hardening o f the self. M arxism uses popular m aterialism as an antidote to the “ sentim en­ ta l” assumption that the w orld could be changed by rational persuasion alone, an assumption w hich pathetically premises that the ills o f the w orld are grounded in w rong th in k in g . Yet M arxism also insists that popular m aterialism is vulgar, incapable o f seeing beyond the im m ediate present, and has o n ly a lim ite d idea o f w hat an interest is. M arxism is thus an e ffort to incorporate, yet to transcend, popular m aterialism . It reinterprets it from the standpoint o f a specific stratum , that o f N ew Class intellectuals, and from a specific culture, the culture o f critica l discourse. Yet there is both transcendence o f popular m aterial­ ism and C C D , and the subversion o f contradiction o f each. Interest vio­ lates C C D p o litica lly. H ere the C C D is used to help the proletariat escape the lim its o f its im m ediate interests; correspondingly, M arxism uses the standpoint o f “ interest” to develop a critiqu e o f the C C D itself. In effect, then, M arxism infuses the C C D and intellectuals w ith a strain o f “ realism ,” b rin g in g them in to closer contact w ith the everyday w orld, w h ile enabling the w orkin g class to transcend and see alternatives to th e ir everyday w orld.

T h e o ris t in the T h e o ry C ertainly, M a rx ’s is a philosophical and historical m aterialism w hich was developed w ith in the idiom o f a technical intellectual tra d ition in Ger­ m any and, in th a t respect, differs from the everyday m aterialism then becoming pervasive in German culture. W h ile the two are therefore by no means identical, they are nonetheless interconnected. One kin d o f relationship that exists between everyday m aterialism and M a rx ’s theorized m aterialism is the relationship o f the articulate to the tacit, o f the c ritic a lly examined to the u n c ritic a lly affirmed. In one part, popular m aterialism was an unreflective, taken-for-granted belief system anchored in a symbolism that was clarified in M a rx ’s e xp licit theoretical system. G iven the idealism o f the dom inant philosophical orientations that surrounded M a rx in his early developm ent and education, it is clear that his philosophical m aterialism cannot be accounted for m erely as a

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sim ple extension and systematic refinem ent o f this technical academic tra d itio n . T h is is not to say, however, that M arx's m aterialism was not im p o rta n tly influenced by earlier technical philosophical developments, perhaps most p a rticu la rly by L u d w ig Feuerbach and the L e ft Hegelians who, in th e ir critiq u e o f religion, took a 180-degree tu rn toward mate­ rialism . Yet even these theoretical “ anticipations” o f M arx's m aterialism do not deny the im portance o f the everyday fo r philosophical m aterial­ ism, fo r these anticipations themselves need an explanation. In short, w h ile M arx's own em erging philosophical m aterialism was part o f a larger technical developm ent o f inte lle ctu a l m aterialism in the Germ any o f his period, this larger d r ift too m ust be seen in its relationship to popular German m aterialism . Indeed, one may say o f a ll the Germ an philosophical m aterialists o f the period w hat I have said o f M a rx alone: they refined the em erging popular m aterialism ; th e ir technical m aterial­ ism resonates and recovers popular m aterialism and finds in it an “ in tu i­ tive ” and v e rifyin g isomorphism. Everyday m aterialism provides techni­ cal m aterialism w ith a deja vu sense o f confirm ation. B u t the relationship between these two levels, between everyday cu l­ ture and philosophical theory, is s till more complex. For one th in g , em erging everyday m aterialism expressed and inculcated a structure o f sentim ent dissonant w ith the p rio r philosophical idealism , s till academi­ cally dom inant. There was a tension between the em erging cu ltu re o f everyday materalism and the m andarin tra d itio n o f technical philosophi­ cal idealism w hich, at first, only vaguely discom fited some theorists and in itia lly disposed them to back away from idealism . Indeed, M a rx had a sense o f the craggy grotesqueness o f H egel from his very first, y o u th fu l reading. T h e cu ltu ra l level, then, in effect generated an unnoticed dis­ sonance w ith received idealism spurring a quest fo r other, less dissonant, inte lle ctu a l positions. Som ething o f this dissonance can be seen in one o f M arx's earliest know n m anuscripts (1 8 3 5 ), “ Reflections o f a Y outh on Choosing an O ccupation,” w hich he wrote ju st p rio r to graduating from the T rie r G ym nasium . H ere tw o very d iffe re n t impulses are expressed. In one, there is a strongly idealistic, even rom antic emphasis on the significance o f m aking a correct decision concerning vocational choice, experienced as a part o f a lo fty “ strivin g beyond” and as infused w ith an articulate religious conception o f vocation as d ivin e ly in s tille d : “ Everyone has a goal w hich appears to be great, at least to him self, and is great w hen deepest conviction, the innerm ost voice o f the heart, pronounces it great; fo r the D e ity never leaves man e n tirely w ith o u t a guide; the D e ity speaks softly, but w ith certainty.” 19 In short, an emphasis is placed upon “ decision” as a crucial art o f the self, and as e n ta ilin g an obligation to

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make certain that the inw ard call is a genuine one and not a self-decep­ tion. Yet counterposed to this idealistic stress, an emphasis is also placed upon m aterialistic factors whose legitim acy (n o t sim ply th e ir potency) is clearly underlined. M a rx remarks that “ even our physical nature often threateningly opposes us, and no one dare mock its rights!” H ere there is an echo o f the Saint-Sim onian resurrection o f the flesh. In a sim ilar vein, he worries that one's entire life can become “ an unfortunate strug­ gle between the in te lle ctu a l and the physical p rin cip le .” I t is hard to believe that this “ m aterialist” component, in the essay o f this seventeenyear-old boy, is p rim a rily attributable to the influence o f other philosophi­ cal m aterialists and o f his p rio r philosophical sophistication. Here, the deeper paleosymbolism o f the later m aterialism is discernible w ith bio­ graphical specificity. I f popular m aterialism stim ulated sentiments at variance w ith German philosophical idealism , tending thereby to w ithd ra w credence from it, they conversely le n t credence to the em erging philosophical m aterialism , even i f o n ly unexam ined credence. T h is new popular ideology and paleosymbolism appeared as a two-edged developm ent, on the one hand discom fiting old technical theories, and, on the other hand, generating a diffuse atmosphere that “ fit” certain new technical theories. T h e new technical theory served to resolve the dissonance between the received, older in te lle ctu a l tra d ition fo rm a lly transm itted to the th in ke r and the new everyday ideology in to w hich he had been socialized w ell before his form al tra in in g . T h e question o f the relationship o f M a rx ’s philosophic m aterialism to popular German m aterialism is o f interest also because it is a case o f a larger and more general problem in the sociology o f social theory, nam ely, the conditions that generally lead theorists to reject older theo­ ries and to com m it themselves to new ones. T h e answer suggested here to this question is decidedly d iffe re n t from the conventionally rationalistic one, w hich tends to assume that social theorists make com m itm ents o n ly after they have acquired data relevant to the theory, and that if they do otherwise there is something wrong w ith them . M a rx ’s own position on this m atter was quite close to the contem porary scholarly self-understanding; i.e., he too stressed the em­ p irica l foundations and scholarly scruples o f his theory. H e tells us, for instance, that, “ Science is o n ly genuine science when it proceeds from sense experience, in the tw o forms o f sense perception and sensuous need. . . . ”20 S im ilarly, he remarks in a positivistic vein, also in the Econom ic and Philosophical M anuscripts, “ I t is hardly necessary to assure the reader w ho is fa m ilia r w ith p o litica l economy that m y conclu-

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sions are the fru it o f an e n tire ly em pirical analysis, based upon a careful critica l study o f p o litica l economy.” 21 (So m uch fo r Engels as the posi­ tiv is tic seducer o f M a rxism !) Some regard such statements by M a rx as a self-deception, h o ld in g that they conceal the fact that M a rx had fo rm u ­ lated his position p rio r to his em pirical economic studies. I do not dis­ agree w ith the first observation, b u t only w ith the im plication that this distinguishes M a rx from other, more “ tru ly scientific,” contem porary social scientists. T h is false-consciousness was not peculiar to M a rx and continues to be shared by most social scientists today. In contrast to con­ ventional m ethodological m oralism , m y own view is th a t one funda­ m ental reason social theorists com m it themselves to a specific theory is precisely because this theory seems “ in tu itiv e ly ” rig h t to them , w e ll in advance o f any systematic em pirical test given to it; and it seems rig h t because it is consonant w ith th e ir own “ experience,” w h ich is to say be­ cause it recovers and congenially resonates the popular theories and deeper paleosymbolism in to w hich they had been socialized. T h e theory seems rig h t because it recovers and is consonant w ith th e ir experience; and because it enables them to live w ith o u t contradicting w hat the theorists take to be th e ir own personal experience. A theory that is fe lt to be rig h t, however, also transform s the theorists deeper paleosymbolism—h ith e rto residing o n ly in his subsidiary awareness—by s h iftin g it in to focal awareness. In that sense, the new technical theory serves to validate and resituate fundam ental aspects o f the theorist s self. Social theory, then, is a recovery o f self, however m uch it may be form u­ lated w ith positivistic false consciousness as o n ly a discovery about the w orld. A rticu la te theory or ideology is a liberation o f a structure o f b e lie f and symbolism alienated w ith in the theorist; in short, theory-m aking is in part a recovery and a liberation o f the theorist s suppressed self. W h ic h may explain w h y so m uch o f theory-m aking (a n d o f science) is so often experienced by the theorist as a kin d o f “ b irth .” H e does not com m only regard his theory as a mere in te lle ctu a l artifice w hich he h im se lf has in ­ vented, b u t as som ething more nearly akin to a “ delivery” or recovery o f som ething that was already “ there.” T h e p o in t o f m y remarks above is that, often enough, this is indeed correct. In em barking on his explora­ tions o f the w orld, w hat the theorist w ill in tim e in e vita b ly encounter is—him self. T echnical social theory is thus often n o th in g less than the theorist s self-consciousness disguised as ra tio n a lity. Paradoxically, however, the theorist almost im m ediately proceeds to alienate this self-awareness by casting it in terms o f received technical traditions. H e must, that is, deny that his knowledge is in part a recov­ ery o f some aspect o f h im self and is based upon his personal experience.

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H e proceeds w ith all speed to conceal his personal involvem ent; he denies that his theory is rooted in a personal knowledge, by socializing this knowledge in the grammar o f a technical tra d ition , thereby objec­ tify in g it. H a vin g given b irth to this ch ild , the theorist denies that it is his. A nd in some part, he is rig h t. For the popular theory and deeper sym­ bolism the theorist recovers and reworks is not his own personal inven­ tion, b u t that o f the culture in to w hich he was born. It is not “ his” in the fu rth e r sense that “ he” does not m erely possess or use it b u t he is in part possessed, constituted, and shaped by it. L ike the germ plasm borne by people, this anterior cu ltu re is o n ly am biguously “ theirs” ; they mediate it rather than in ve n t it; are shaped by it, even before they ac­ tiv e ly and selectively transm it it. T h e theorist’s w ork then is not sim ply that o f research but also that o f recovery.

4 The Binary Fission of Popular Materialism

M arx's philosophical m aterialism was not o n ly a recovery b u t a rew ork­ in g o f popular m aterialism that proceeded in a very specific way, by s p littin g the latter in to tw o parts—a positive or prized part and a nega­ tive or disvalued part. M a rx ta c itly divided everyday m aterialism —and capitalism , itse lf—in to the ‘ sacred and the profane," the clean and the d irty. For M a rx, everyday m aterialism was grounded in a symbolism that included egoism -venality-huckstering-m oney-m aterialism , the crass or “ vu lg a r" m aterialism w hich he sought to segregate and isolate, pre­ venting it from p o llu tin g the valued side o f m aterialism , w h ich was real­ istic and dem ystifying. W h a t is the economic content o f these two sides o f m aterialism? T h e valued com ponent consists o f the productive, or w ork side, the forces o f production (i.e ., the P roduktivkrafte or produktive F a h igkra fte n ). In short, M a rx accepts the power o f the P roduktivkrafte; however, he finds capitalist relations o f production, its verhalten,1 contem ptible; he wishes to sp lit the two, extricating capitalism s pow erful forces o f production from its crip p lin g association w ith its relations o f production, and re­ situating this power in a new system o f socialist relationships that w ill emancipate it. M a rx conceives o f the valued side o f m aterialism , then, as incorporat­ in g man's “ species being," his capacity o f self-creation through conscious labor—“ a condition o f hum an existence . . . independent o f all forms o f society." I t is through labor that man makes nature his ow n, sim ul­ taneously transform ing his consciousness, his self, and creating his very 7*

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w orld. For M arx, the u n ity o f man and nature is an act achieved through w ork. T h e central com ponent o f the valued side o f the m aterialistic is labor, through w hich man overcomes fragm entation, makes the w orld whole, unites him self w ith , b u t at the same tim e sets him self above, na­ ture. M a rx s m aterialism , then, is grounded in a symbolism o f a redemp­ tive labor, the gospel o f labor, in w hich man w ill be transfigured and made w o rth y by w ork, in accord w ith Hegel's master-bondsman dialectic.

M a rx s Binary Fission of Capitalism Paleosymbols on the Positive Side ( In du strialism )

Paleosymbols on the Negative Side ([Capitalism )

Sacred

Profane

R ational

“ Interest”

H e a lth y

Pathological

W o rk , labor, technology

Commerce, venality, acquisitiveness, money

Forces o f production

R elations o f production

Self-creation

S elf-alienation

G e ntile

Jewish

H onest

D ishonest

N eed-satisfying

P rofit-m aking

M asculine

Fem inine

M arx's m aterialism entails a tacit fission o f popular m aterialism 's sym­ bolism into tw o parts, a pathological or venal part and a healthy or pro­ ductive part. I f the first is the vulgar or crass side o f popular m aterialism , the second—paradoxically—is the “ sp iritu a l" side o f m aterialism , in the sense that, fo r M arx, it expresses the highest, truest, and most authentic character o f the hum an species. In short, M arx's philosophical m aterial­ ism refines popular m aterialism precisely by sp iritu a lizin g it; by idealiz­ in g w ork and rom anticizing p ro d u ctivity. A t the same tim e, M a rx re­ fines popular m aterialism by condem ning and extruding commerce and money. M arx's own m aterialism , then, is produced by w aging war against tw o great symbol systems: G o d /re lig io n and com m erce/m oney, the first being central to his critiq u e o f popular idealism (i.e ., re lig io n ), the sec­ ond, central to his critiq u e o f popular m aterialism . M oney, says the young M a rx iro n ica lly in his Economic and P hilo­ sophical M anuscripts, overcomes and transform s every in d ivid u a l flaw and vice; it enables people to compensate fo r th e ir own personal defects. T h e stupid man w ith money “ can buy talented people fo r him self," com-

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plains the b rillia n t M a rx; the u g ly man w ith money ‘ can buy the most b e a u tifu l w om an,” 2 com plains the vigorous young man w ith o u t money. M oney can achieve a ll th a t men seek, even i f they lack the in d iv id u a l qualities that w ould m e rit such satisfactions. W ith o u t money, m ens de­ sires are unreal, im aginary; o n ly w ith money do they achieve real being. M oney, then, is w hat transform s desire in to reality. A t one and the same tim e, says M arx, money is the universal whore and the visible d e ity o f bourgeois society. C apitalism , in effect, is a false w orship o f M am m on, in v o lv in g a hidden m e ta p h o rica lly in w hich god = money.3 M oreover, money is the fundam ental source o f the grotesque in the modem w orld, fo r it is that w h ich brings about the “ fraternization o f in ­ com patibles.” 4 I t is th a t w h ich enables u g ly men to possess b e a u tifu l women, stupid men to control talented men, and cowards to buy the pro­ tection o f the brave. M oney “ . . . exchanges every q u a lity and object fo r every other, even though they are contradictory. I t is the fraterniza­ tion o f incom patibles; it forces contraries to embrace.” I t produces the “ u n n a tu ra l.” 5 M oney, in short, produces the sociological miscegenation central to the Rom antic idea o f the “ grotesque.” I t is evident from M a rx s conception o f money as the fo u n t o f the grotesque, that he holds this aspect o f popular m aterialism in contem pt. S im ila rly, in M arx's critiq u e o f “ crude” C om m unism , he also condemns a society that entails “ the dom ination o f m aterial property . . . [and seeks] im m ediate physical possession.” H ere M a rx clearly rejects the part o f popular m aterialism w h ich equates w elfare w ith consumerism.

Anti-Semitism and the C ritique of Capitalism There is at least one other d istin ctive site in w h ich M arx's sp licin g o f popular m aterialism is manifested fo rc e fu lly and, in particular, where he rejects most vio le n tly its huckstering or venal side. T h is is in his dis­ cussion o f the Jews, especially in his 1844 essays responding to Bruno Bauer on the Jewish question in the Deutsch-Franzoische Jahrbucher. T h e “ secret o f the Jew,” says M a rx here, is not in his religion; rather, he says, this religion its e lf m ust be understood in terms o f its everyday, pro­ fane basis: “ W h a t is the profane basis o f Judaism? Practical self-interest. W h a t is the w o rld ly c u lt o f the Jew? H uckstering. W h a t is his w o rld ly god? M oney.” 6 O u r age, he says, cannot emancipate its e lf except by em ancipating its e lf from practical Judaism. H ere, then, M a rx fuses two pow erful negative symbols: money and Jews. T h e crux o f the m atter is, first, that M a rx does sp lit popular m aterial­ ism in to tw o parts—an industrial-productive part or the “ forces o f pro­ d u ctio n ” that he prizes—d istin g u ish in g it from the commercial huckster-

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in g side that he condemns—and, second, that he links the latter to the symbolism o f the Jew. M a rx specifically held that “ the essence of the Jew was universally realized and secularized in c iv il society. . . .” 7 H e m aintained, moreover, that “ we discern in Judaism, therefore, a u n i­ versal anti-social elem ent o f the present tim e, whose historical develop­ m ent zealously aided in its h a rm fu l aspects by the Jews, has now attained its cu lm in a tin g p o in t. . . .” 8 M arx, in short, equated the rejected, a n ti­ social, commercial side o f contem porary society w ith Jewishness and, conversely, he equated Jewishness w ith huckstering, an equation al­ ready b u ilt into the German term Judentum . T h e m etaphoricality here is blatant: C apitalism = Jewishness = H uckstering. T h is suggests that an anti-S em itic symbolism was one o f the crucial elements that led M a rx to sp lit popular m aterialism and capitalism precisely along the lines that he d id ; to conceive o f the commercial m arket or “ huckstering,, relations o f capitalism as the baneful, negative essence o f capitalism , and to seek to “ p u rify ,, and protect the forces o f production, the industrial, honest “ g entile” com ponent, by e xtru d in g commercial huckstering. O u r age, he says, cannot emancipate its e lf except by em ancipating itse lf from “ real and practical Judaism ,” w h ich is huckstering and money. T h e Jew and his religious consciousness, M a rx says, w ould “ evaporate” in any society that w ould elim inate the need fo r the possibility o f huckstering. M a rx quotes B runo Bauer as stating that the Jew determines the fate o f “ the w hole A ustrian E m pire by his financial power.” 9 Far from con­ tra d ictin g Bauer, M a rx adds, “ this is not an isolated instance,” and he continues by rem arking th a t “ it is through the Jew—and also apart from h im —that money became a w orld power.” M oreover, M a rx also m aintains that the Jewish religion as such con­ tains “ in an abstract form . . . contem pt fo r theory, for art, fo r history, and fo r man as an end in its e lf.” In short, fo r M arx, the Jewish religion contained a contem pt fo r almost every aspect o f culture dear to German idealism . M oreover, the Jews’ n a tio n a lity, M a rx held, is a “ chim erical n a tio n a lity ,” 10 the n a tio n a lity o f a financier. C oncerning the relative moral m erits o f Judaism as compared w ith C h ristia n ity, M a rx m aintains invid u o u sly that “ C h ris tia n ity is the sublim e thought o f Judaism; Juda­ ism is the vulgar practical application o f C h ris tia n ity .” 11 W h a t needs to be noted is the distorted character o f the judgm ent that M a rx pronounced upon Judaism rather than sim ply assim ilating his views, as does H a l Draper, to the anti-Sem itism conventional to his tim e. C ertain obvious in te rn a l discrepancies in M a rx ’s commentary on Juda­ ism may be b rie fly noted. For one, even as M a rx was holding Jewry up to p u b lic contem pt, as the universal w orshipper o f money and loathsome practitioner o f huckstering, m any o f the Jews that M a rx knew personally,

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and, indeed, from whom he learned in te lle ctu a lly, in short, Jews w ho m ig h t have been personally real to h im —such as Eduard Gans, Moses Hess, H e in ric h H eine, L u d w ig Borne, Spinoza, and others—were alto­ gether u n like his description o f Jews in T h e Jewish Q uestion. T o w rite as he did, then, M a rx lite ra lly had to defy the evidence o f his own ex­ perience. Indeed, even as M a rx was stereotyping Jewry fo r its love o f money, there was then em erging throughout Europe the phenomenon o f the Jewish radical w ho, like M a rx, hated rather than worshipped money b u t found no acknowledgm ent in M arx's Jewish Q uestion or in his later w ritings. Indeed, M a rx s analysis o f the social nature o f Judaism exhibits an almost w illfu l ignorance o f w hat he m igh t have known personally or learned readily from his studies. Even an elem entary knowledge o f the then norm al Jewish com m unity p la in ly exhibited the exceptional im ­ portance Jews attributed to learning, not sim ply to money. Jewish com­ m unities at that tim e were in te rn a lly governed by a social elite that was a unique com bination o f the moneyed and the scholarly; rich Jewish fathers tra d itio n a lly sought e lig ible young scholars to m arry th e ir daugh­ ters. T h e desire o f young Jews fo r a higher education was exceptional and, indeed, they often retreated in to business, trade, or banking o n ly— as fo r example, in the case o f the Saint-Sim onian, O linde Rodriques— when religious discrim ination excluded them from college. T o have con­ demned Jewry fo r devotion to money w hen Jewish youth, as m uch or more than most, were fre q u e n tly radical and were tra d itio n a lly devoted to learning and scholarship, was w illfu lly obtuse and a travesty o f schol­ arship. Indeed, w hat scholarship ju stifie d M arx's view that Judaism was an ahistorical essence w h ich , under any and a ll social conditions, eternally expressed itse lf as huckstering? T h e learned Saul Padover chides M arx, observing that as an historian he ‘ should have known that the founders and earliest practictioners o f Judaism were not m oney-m inded trades­ men b u t shepherds and sim ple country people w ho were moved by an overw helm ing sense o f a m onotheistic D e ity; and that insofar as later Jews, dispersed in C hristian Europe, pursued money affairs, they d id so out o f desperate necessity, and not out o f an inn e r fa ith , p rim a rily in countries where v irtu a lly a ll other means o f livelihood were closed to them , as, for example, in Czarist Russia."12 Indeed, any perceptive social analysis o f the Jewish trade w ould have at least considered the possi­ b ility that the Jews were not stigm atized by C hristians because they p u r­ sued money b u t that they pursued money because they were stigm atized; i.e., because they were vulnerable in a w orld dom inated by C hristians, many o f whom held that the Jews had “ k ille d C h ris t" and accused them

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of the ritu a l m urder o f G entile children. (C e rta in ly any disinterested devotee o f “ transform ative c ritic is m /’ such as M arx, m ight be expected to consider this reversal o f subject and predicate.) I f M a rx lauds the bourgeoisie fo r re volutionizing production, one w on­ ders w hy he knew (o r said) n o th in g about those Jews who were “ the m oving spirits behind branches o f new activities such as railroad b u ild ­ in g or the German textile industry . . . the non-ferrous metals trade, the creation o f the electrical industry. . . .” 13 In short, Jews no less than th e ir G entile counterparts were then revolutionizing productivity. W h y not, therefore, acknowledge the Jewish contribution to this then progressive phase o f bourgeois developm ent, as M a rx extolled that of C hristian entrepreneurs? Indeed, even the b itte rly anti-Sem itic utopian socialist Charles Fourier adm itted that (a t least in France) the populace welcomed the reduction in prices that Jewish businessmen brought. “ . . . [T ]h e people exclaim in adm iration,” observed Fourier, “ ‘Long live com petition! Long live the Jews, philosophy and fraternity! T he price of all goods has fallen since Iscariot arrived) and the p u b lic says to the rival firm s: ‘I t is you gentlem en w ho are real Jews/ ” 14 M a rx makes no such acknowledgm ent o f the p u b lic u tility o f Jewish businessmen. In some part, the special vehemence o f M a rx’s judgm ent on Jews de­ rives from his submersion in German culture. T h e special character of German anti-Sem itism was evidenced by the greater propensity of prom i­ nent German Jews to convert to C h ris tia n ity than those o f other na­ tio n a litie s.15 Indeed, “ the phenomenon o f the cu lt o f the Germ anic race w hich surged up in G erm any at the beginning o f the nineteenth century has no analogy in any other country. N one o f the varieties o f European nationalism w hich were beginning to compete w ith one another at the tim e assumed this biologically oriented form . Between 1790 and 1815, w ith practically no transition, w riters moved on from the idea of a spe­ cifica lly German mission, to the glorification o f the language, and from there to a glorification o f German blood. . . .” 16 T h e vehemence of M a rx’s judgm ent on Judaism is as m uch grounded in this emerging p e cu lia rity o f German culture as in the imposed apostasy of this descen­ dant o f long generations o f rabbis. T h e obvious question that arises is w hether M a rx ’s feelings about Jews were the source o f his critiq u e o f the commercial huckstering side of capitalism , or w hether his h o s tility to a huckstering-m arket society was the source o f his views about Jews. Doubtless the tw o tendencies in te r­ penetrate and are d iffic u lt i f not impossible to separate. Yet the fact re­ mains that M a rx ’s contem pt for huckstering and com m ercialization was, in some part, given specifically anti-Jewish form and crystallization. Nonetheless, it w ould be mistaken to regard this as the only source o f

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M a rxs condem nation o f com m ercialization. For behind the h o s tility to huckstering and behind the anti-Jewishness common among German university youth at that tim e—and indeed u n d e rlyin g them both—there were other pow erful m otives: the concern fo r the welfare o f larger col­ lectivities; fo r German society and “ h u m a n ity” as a whole; fo r “ m an” in his universal character as a “ species-being.” C om m ercialization was con­ demned, then, as an expression o f selfish “eogism” ; as a social arrange­ m ent that incites a base egoism d ive rtin g men from th e ir true nature and highest ideals. In other words, behind both anti-Jewishness and a n ti­ com m ercialism —p a rticu la rly among u n ive rsity youth—there was a G er­ man idealism whose p a rticularistic expression was nationalism . For the most part, M a rx shared these co lle ctivity oriented sentim ents—in c lu d in g the nationalism —except, however, that he focused them more universalistica lly upon the need fo r a hum an em ancipation whose instrum ent w ould be the proletariat. There were, then, at least tw o overlapping elements in M a rx ’s con­ dem nation o f commercial huckstering: anti-Jewishness and anti-egoism. Yet the anti-Jewish elem ent is im portant because it sharpens M a rx ’s con­ ception o f capitalism as at bottom “ com m ercial” and huckstering, w h ile focusing his conception o f socialism on the elim ination o f com m odity production fo r private gain.

The Nuclear Metaphor of Marxism: Capitalism = Huckstering — Judaism M a rx held that the historical stim ulus to (and co n tin u in g essence o f) capitalism was huckstering, the b u yin g and selling o f products and labor power: “ T h e circulation o f commodities is the starting p o in t o f capital. C om m odity production and that h ig h ly developed form o f com m odity circulation w h ich is know n as commerce constitute the historical ground­ w ork upon w h ich it rises. T h e modem history o f capital begins in the sixteenth century w ith the establishm ent o f a w orldw ide commercial sys­ tem and the opening o f the w orld m arket.” 17 A n d again, M a rx adds that “ the starting po in t o f capitalist production is where a large num ber o f workers are aggregated at one tim e and in one place . . . under the command o f one capitalist, fo r the production o f one and the same kin d o f com m odity. As regards the actual m ethod o f production, m anufacture, fo r instance, can h a rdly be said to d iffe r from the handicraft in d u stry o f the guilds. . . . T h u s at first the difference is m erely q u a ntita tive.” 18 In short, the capitalist has really added n o th in g to the process; he has m erely brought the process already existing under his own control, and the im portance attributed to the technological changes Engels focused

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on in his study o f the w orkin g class in M anchester is here downplayed. T w o points are notew orthy: one, that capitalism starts when the same process o f production is subjected to the control o f commercial capital, o f money; second, rather less focal, is that the sheer difference in the so­ cial organization o f the w ork group is not seen as an element o f ratio­ n a lity contributed by the com m ercial capitalist, even though M a rx rec­ ognizes that this reorganization does heighten p ro du ctivity. C apitalism begins, then, in the o rig in a l sin o f huckstering and continues to carry this sociological ta in t w ith in itse lf, stamped in d e lib ly upon its most ele­ m ental structure, the com m odity. M a rx sees huckstering—the quest fo r private gain by buying and selling—as a central part o f the infrastructure o f capitalism , as the essence o f modem capitalism . In C apital, M a rx asserted that the core o f capitalism was an economic system in w hich, on the one hand, men produce *''com m odities” to sell fo r a p ro fit on an im personal m arket, and in w hich , on the other hand, this production in ­ volves a relationship between capitalists ow ning the means o f produc­ tion and buying the labor power o f the workers, w h ile the propertyless workers themselves are forced to sell th e ir labor power to capitalists. T he objects produced are com m odities,” bom in sin because produced w ith the in te n tio n o f selling them for a p ro fit rather than to satisfy hum an needs. T h e capitalist is regarded as h istorically unique in that he has an endless, avaricious, insatiable th irs t for p ro fit. M a rx thus sees the w orker-capitalist relationship as venal to the core, as characterized by the fact that the capitalist buys, and the w orker sells, labor power. I t is this b uying and selling o f hum an beings’ capacity fo r w ork that he regards as the most disgusting essence o f the historically d istin ctive system o f capitalism . M a rx thus locates the market, commer­ cial, huckstering com ponent d ire ctly w ith in the nucleus o f the produc­ tive arrangements o f capitalism . H e does not sim ply see commerce as d istin ct from or a u xilia ry to capitalism , or as separated from it in a spe­ cialized, ‘ com m ercial” system o f d istrib u tio n or finance. T h e entire capi­ talist apparatus, in its most essential respects, is held to be shaped by the b u yin g and selling o f hum an life tim e and the m anufacture o f products intended to produce a p ro fit through th e ir sale. T h e commercial disease is thus located w ith in the productive core o f capitalism . A lth o u g h there is a substantial s h ift in focus from the M a rx o f 1844 to that o f C apital—from his early focus on money and its corrupting grotesqueness to the later analysis o f capitalist modes o f re p ro d u c tio n money does not disappear in the late M a rx, or even become less salient in his developing conception o f capitalism . One m ig h t be tempted to say that the early M a rx focused on and condemned money as the false w or­ ship o f M am m on, b u t that the older M a rx o f C apital focused on p ro fit

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or gain, rather than money as such. Yet m oney and g a in /p ro fit are in ­ separable in M a rx s m ature analysis o f capitalism . As he notes in C a p ita l, “ Every new aggregate o f capital enters upon the stage, comes in to the m arket (th e com m odity m arket, the labour m arket, or the money m arket), in the form o f money—o f money w hich by a definite process, has to be transform ed in to capital.” 19 M a rx d istin ­ guishes a process ( i ) o f sim ple com m odity circulation, C -M -C , “ the transform ation o f a com m odity in to money, and the retransform ation o f money in to a com m odity; selling in order to buy” from that other process ( 2 ) o f m ature com m odity circulation, whose form ula is M -C -M , “ the transform ation o f money in to commodities, and the re transform ation o f commodities in to money. . . .” I t is through this second process th a t money becomes capital: “ M oney that circulates in the la tte r w ay is thereby transform ed in to capital, is already potential capital.” 20 In the first form ula, says M arx, money is surrendered to produce “ use values” b u t in the second, M -C -M form ula, “ the purchaser surrenders money in order that, as a seller, he may get money back.” 21 M a rx adds: “ T h e c ir­ cu it, M -C -M . . . sets out from money, and u ltim a te ly comes back to money again” ; h o p e fu lly and necessarily, more money, M ', or else the process w ill not continue. T h e circulation o f money as capital, states M arx, “ is an end in itse lf, fo r the expansion o f value can o n ly occur w ith in this perpetually renewed movement. Consequently, the circula­ tion o f capital knows no lim its .” 22 ( I t is, in the words o f E m ile D u rkheim , an insatiably anomic process, incapable o f final satisfaction.) A n d again: It is as the conscious representative of this movement that the owner of money becomes a capitalist. H is person, or rather his pocket, is the point from which money sets out and the point to which it returns. The ob­ jective purpose of this circulation, the expansion of value, is his subjec­ tive aim; and only in so far as the increasing appropriation of abstract wealth is the sole motive of his operations does he function as a capi­ ta lis t . . . Thus use-value is never to be regarded as the direct aim of the capitalist. N or is the profit on any single transaction his aim, for what he aims at is the never-ending process of profit making. This urge towards absolute enrichment, this passionate hunt for value, is shared by the capitalist w ith the miser; but whereas a miser is only a capitalist gone mad, a capitalist is a miser who has come to his senses. The un­ ceasing increment of value at which the miser aims in his endeavor to save his money from circulation, is attained by the shrewder capitalist by again and again handing over his money to circulation.23 M a rx observes that, at one level, the circulation o f commodities for money can be summed up in tw o propositions, “ C apital is money” and

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“ C apital is com m odities,” b u t adds that the active underlying force is really “ value,” w hich assumes the form o f both money and commodities. B ut value requires “ an independent form whereby its id e n tity [sic] may at any tim e be established. O n ly in money does it possess such a form . M oney, therefore, constitutes the starting p o in t and goal of every process o f the self-expansion o f capital . . . the capitalist knows that all com­ m odities, however p a ltry they may look or however evil they may smell, are in fa ith and in tru th money, are in w a rd ly circumcised Jews, and w hat is more, are a w onderful means whereby, out of money, more money can be made.” 24 M a rx notes that if each m erchant sim ply charged more than he paid, then he, in tu rn , w ould also be paying more fo r things he purchased, so that the surcharge he p u t on his product w ould be offset by that he paid to others, and hence no p ro fit could ensue. P ro fit therefore does not sim­ p ly come from adding to the cost o f production but, rather, only from the workers' addition o f a surplus value to the product d u rin g his work, a value o n ly appropriated (n o t generated) by owners d u rin g the circula­ tion process. A nd it is essentially through this that th e ir M is transformed in to M 7, th e ir money increased, and M -C -M 7 “ becomes the general fo r­ m ula o f capital. . . .” 25 M a rx thus lin ke d capitalism to a m oney-pursuing huckstering essence, a com m ercial lust. In this fusion o f money, huckstering, and venality, M a rx tended to treat m oneys num erical symbolism w ith o n ly auxiliary awareness, although n o tin g its more diffuse symbolic im portance. It stands fo r value, he said. T h e v ia b ility o f the entire process o f M -C -M 7 depends, after all, not o n ly upon the in itia l a va ila b ility o f money, but also upon the a b ility to assign an am ount to the money at that tim e, as w e ll as at some later tim e, thereby determ ining w hether the money has grown and the process o f com m odity circulation may continue, or w hether it has shrunk and w ill be stopped. T h e entire process of M -C -M 7 de­ pends en tirely upon the a va ila b ility o f money, not sim ply as a means o f exchange, b u t also as a system fo r measuring the grow th or decline in the original investm ent. M a rx thus tended to defocalize the rational d i­ mension in capitalist commerce as such, and underestimated how new money, banking, credit, and bookkeeping systems generated a m ajor his­ torical breakthrough in form al ra tio n a lity w hich facilitated an historically new level in the effectiveness w ith w hich resources were used and prod­ ucts produced. W ith o u t this new system o f form al rationality, grounded in the calculus made possible by money and by the developm ent o f double-entry bookkeeping, it w ould not have been possible to determ ine w hether M 7 was larger or sm aller than M . I t is in that vein that M ax W eber made the fo llo w in g observation.

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A rationalistic capitalistic establishment is one w ith capital accounting, that is, an establishment which determines its income-yielding power by calculation according to the methods of modern bookkeeping and the striking of a balance. The device of the balance was first insisted upon by the Dutch theorist Simon Stevin in the year 1698. . . . The most general presupposition for the existence of this present-day capitalism is that of rational capital accounting as the norm of all large industrial un­ dertakings. . . .26 M a rx conceived o f the ra tio n a lity o f capitalism as centered in the forces o f production, its productive side, and in its m obilization o f sci­ ence and technology to heighten efficiency. W h ile such rationalization w ould not have sufficed to rationalize production unless it yielded a p ro fit, M a rx generally underestim ated the extent to w hich the develop­ m ent o f capitalism depended also on the rationalization provided by mea­ surement, commerce, legal systems, and a rational state. M a rx ’s under­ estim ation o f the rational dim ension o f commerce and o f its im portance fo r com m odity circulation was sim ply the other side o f his overemphasis on the pathology o f commerce; and he d w elt on this pathology w ith pas­ sionate concentration in part because he had fused commerce w ith the h ig h ly charged symbolism o f huckstering Judaism, d e fin in g com m odities as “ in w a rd ly circum cised Jews.” I f M a rx tended to underestim ate the rational side o f capitalist com­ merce, he correspondingly overestimated the ra tio n a lity o f the p u rely in ­ dustrial side o f capitalism . W h ile M a rx ’s critiq u e o f capitalism h ardly neglects this industrial and technological side, nonetheless he treats it as a subsidiary problem . For M a rx, capitalism ’s “ viru s” is not lodged in its ind u stria l intestines b u t in its commercial relations and system o f p ri­ vate property. M a rx focused p rim a rily on the ills o f an “ acquisitive” so­ ciety, not on those ills common to the logic o f industrialism as such, and w hich may be common to any form o f in d u stria l society, in c lu d in g so­ cialism . I t is thus the fundam ental premise o f M a rx ’s socialism that it is pos­ sible to solve societal ills by e lim in a tin g the private capitalist (i.e ., the p u rely commercial and property aspects), w h ile re taining industrialism , transferring it more or less in ta ct to the state. From this perspective, technology and industrialism as such were not at the root o f the prob­ lem. I t was, rather, commercial p u rsu it o f private p ro fit w hich corrupted men and exacerbated th e ir greed and egoism. T h e problem o f capitalism was thus its huckstering, “ in w a rd ly circum cised” Jewish essence, rather than its honest, gentile productive vigor. In short, M a rx d id not system atically explore the possibility that b u ­ reaucratically rational ind u stry per se—w hich focuses on heightening effi-

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ciency, in c lu d in g the efficiency w ith w hich it uses capital—generates its own d istin ctive discontents and hum an perils. M a rx ’s vio le n t rejection o f the egoistic and com m ercial side o f capitalism , his very conceptuali­ zation o f capitalism in terms o f its venal-com m ercial m oney-m aking side, led h im to tolerate and extol the specifically in d u stria l inheritance, to ignore the virus in the forces o f production. H e fails system atically to distinguish between the social pathologies peculiar to an acquisitive capi­ talism and those others it m ig h t share even w ith a bureaucratic socialism. One reason fo r this lim it in M a rx ’s analysis is that it contains an irra ­ tional elem ent: it is grounded in a viole n t anim us toward commerce that is a ll the more intensified because commerce is defined as the special province o f Judaism. In part, the fervent anim us toward commerce gen­ erates an im pulse to associate it w ith Jewry w hich, being historically excluded from ‘ respectable” occupations, had been stigmatized fo r its association w ith commerce. T h a t association o f commerce w ith Jewry (Ju d e n tu m ) reciprocally intensified a h o s tility toward commerce engen­ dered fo r other reasons, in fla m in g popular sentiments activated by the recent disruptive grow th o f capitalist commerce w ith two thousand years o f incendiary religious bigotry. W ith o u t p u ttin g too fine a p o in t upon it, M a rx ’s theoretical system was distorted by the anti-S em itic symbolism w ith w hich it had one in ­ terface. Suggesting that this anti-Sem itism had theoretical consequences does not, however, necessarily im p ly that M a rx was exceptional in his anti-Sem itism , or, more exactly, in his anti-Jewishness; nor does it even require us to argue that the anti-Jewishness was “ his.” Plato’s philosophy was lim ite d by the slave society surrounding him , even though he may not have been anti-slave. W h e th e r or not M a rx was personally antiJewish, or w hether he sim ply lived in a German cu ltu re in w h ich antiSem itism was a taken-for-granted feature o f his everyday life , the pres­ sures on M a rx ’s theory w ould have m uch the same im p o rt: an intensified h o s tility toward commerce as such; a neglect o f the rational dim ension o f commerce; a one-sided emphasis on the ra tio n a lity o f industry w hich neglects its d istin ctive societal pathologies; a neglect o f the bureaucratic vu ln e ra b ilitie s o f an in d u stria l socialism. One o f M a rx ’s great insights was to conceive o f capitalism in a dereified m anner: “ instead o f being a th in g , capital is a social relation among persons, w hich is established by the interm ediary o f things.” 27 T h e problem , however, was that M a rx selectively focused this de-reifyin g logic on o n ly certain kinds o f social relationships. H e focused on property and commercial relations as being the essence o f capitalism , but not on the social relations o f 'production itself. H e thus leaves dangling the issue o f w hether there is a d istin ctive ly capitalist mode o f production

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apart from the dom ination o f use value by exchange value, that is, apart from the hegemony o f private p ro fit via the b u yin g and selling o f labor power and other requisites o f production. Does capitalism express its e lf in som ething more than the control o f production by those w ho seek p ro fit by buying and selling commodities? For i f capitalism is n o th in g more than that, then it can be extirpated by fo rb id d in g the p u rsu it o f private gain by commerce. Socialism thus sim ply becomes w hatever is le ft o f the rem aining system o f production as it is transferred inta ct to the State (o n the assumption that the latte r represents the c o lle c tiv ity ). I f M arxism views capitalism as the exploitation o f wage labor, by con­ straining workers to sell th e ir labor tim e fo r a wage, we m ust ask, w hat exactly is wage labor, how is wage labor produced or achieved, and in conform ity w ith w hat rules? One im portant factor that M a rx stressed was that it is produced by way o f “ freeing” the w orker from productive property o f his own, so that he is constrained to sell his labor power to earn a liv in g . T h is is based on the tacit m etaphor that labor power is the same as any other com m odity, w h ich is w h y C apital proceeds at once to the analysis o f the com m odity. B u t w hat is one doing in transform ing labor power in to a com m odity? In effect, there is an exchange, the o ffer­ in g and accepting o f a “ wage” —a certain sum o f money—in return fo r a surrender o f the w orker s life tim e . B u t labor power and wage labor rec­ ognize lim its on the control o f the workers. A wage does not buy u n ­ lim ite d control over workers; the am ount o f control is lim ite d in tim e, and only certain directives may be imposed on the w orker d u rin g that lim ite d tim e. Fundam ental to wage labor there is a tacit d istin ctio n between w ork­ in g and private spheres. In short, even d u rin g the w orkin g day the au­ th o rity o f the em ployer is lim ite d to w hat is conceived as a legitim ate sphere, w hich excludes things and activities considered “ p rivate.” For instance, the em ployer cannot, even d u rin g the w o rkin g day, legitim ately in stru ct the w orker to send his ch ild to one school rather than another, to relate to his w ife in one rather than another way. W age labor does not buy u n lim ite d control, fo r it im plies a (b u re a u cra tic) d istin ctio n be­ tween private and w o rkin g tim e. W age labor means that the w orker is subject to the em ployer s a u th o rity only d u rin g certain times and in cer­ tain spheres. T h is is the tacit ru le com pliance28 expected and w hich , w hen forthcom ing, contributes to transform ing the em ployers power in to authority, le g itim a tin g it. Because o f its lim ite d control over labor, capitalism constituted an historical advance; an advance that was threat­ ened and underm ined by the emergence o f state socialism in w hich the state, as the only employer, moves to obliterate the d istin ctio n between

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private and p u b lic spheres. State socialism is thus, in this respect, h isto ri­ cal regression. As capitalists have no obligation to buy labor power when they cannot use it efficiently, th e ir efficiency is greatly enhanced, even as they ex­ h ib it th e ir heartlessness. U nd e r capitalism , then, the em ployers effi­ ciency is enhanced precisely insofar as his powers and obligations are lim ite d . B ut the d istin ctio n between private and w orking spheres in ­ trinsic to wage labor also means that capital has no direct power over the reproduction o f the very labor power it requires. In short, its lim ite d con­ trol is a source o f heightened efficiency but, at the same tim e, threatens the supply o f labor power. T h e system responds in several ways: one is by technological developm ent and intensive economies w ith respect to its purchase and use o f things; another is by developing its controls exten­ sively, in a “ to ta lita ria n ” direction, reaching in to the “ private” back­ ground in w hich workers live and in w hich th e ir labor power is repro­ duced, in order to assure its a va ila b ility in the quantities and forms desired, as w ell as in terms o f appropriate attitudes o f obedience. T he very d istin ctio n between private and w o rkin g tim e, to w hich capitalist efficiency is linked, is then threatened w ith eventual extinction, as al­ ready manifested under N azism and Fascism, as w e ll as under the state socialisms o f Eastern Europe. T h e culture o f capitalist production m aintains that, w ith in the sphere o f the firm , the prim ary rule is that c a llin g fo r the most efficient u tiliz a ­ tion o f resources, in c lu d in g labor power. B ut this is only the form al rule o f capitalism ; the real rule is the rule o f p ro fita b ility . Efficiency is only a means to the end o f p ro fita b ility , and M a rx sees this clearly. T h e real rule is not “ m axim um production o f com m odities” b u t “ m axim um pro­ duction o f p ro fit.” Basically, it is the latte r and not the form er, p ro fita b il­ ity and not efficiency, th a t M a rx challenges. M a rx wants the system to hew to its own logic; to accept the logic o f efficiency, it must rid itse lf o f the logic o f p ro fita b ility . U nd e r the latter, each firm hides w hat it does from the others because it is com peting w ith them, seeking its own p ro fit rather than the collective w elfare. Production, M a rx says, is social and collective, but the property system is private, and venal relations of production produce ignorance, over-production, gluts, depressions; u lti­ m ately the property system lim its the forces o f production. Socialism is the removal o f that lim it. W h a t M a rx wants, then, is the removal o f the logic, so that the forces o f production can live by the logic o f efficiency alone, rather than being subjected to an alien logic. T h u s w hen M arx's capitalism is conceptual­ ized as the subjection o f production to huckstering, it allows the logic

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o f efficiency to remain intact. T h e efficiency logic o f capitalism is re­ tained in M a rxs vision o f a socialism that w ill remedy a huckstering capitalism . I t is essentially in this way—where the encompassing logic o f p ro fit is elim inated b u t the logic o f efficiency allowed to rem ain—th a t M arxism produces its e lf as a S cientific M a rxism . ( I t is precisely because S cientific M arxism accepts the efficiency logic o f capitalism that it is re­ sisted by M aoism and by C ritic a l M arxism , w hich radically reject the c o n tin u ity o f production methods between capitalism and Soviet M a rx­ ism, d e fin in g the latte r as “ revisionist” and w orse.) T h e M a rxist critiq u e o f capitalism predicates that capitalism m ust be made to dance to its own m usic; m aking an “ in n e r” critiq u e o f capital­ ism, it calls fo r the e lim in atio n o f property and venal in stitu tio n s w hich block the developm ent o f the very efficiency that capitalism purports to fu rth e r. T h e unleashing and liberation o f the forces o f production thus become decisive fo r M arxism .29 There is a com plem entary conception o f socialism where, as L e n in p u t it, sheer “ expropriation w ill fa cilita te an enormous developm ent o f productive forces . . . [and w here] the ex­ propriation o f the capitalists w ill in e vita b ly result in an enormous devel­ opm ent o f the productive forces o f hum an society.” 30 G iven a system o f production in w hich the logic o f efficiency remains central, however qualified by w elfare concerns or p o litica l prudence, and in w hich technical competence becomes the grounding o f a u th o rity in the sphere o f production, those depending upon “ ow nership” or upon th e ir p o litica l re lia b ility come to fin d themselves in an ambiguous posi­ tion. In both cases, they m ust buttress th e ir tenuous a u th o rity w ith bu­ reaucratic controls. In each case, the everyday life o f the w orker, the basic mode o f production, and the allocation o f the surplus are essen­ tia lly governed by persons outside o f the w orkers group, w ho impose themselves. T h e w orker s group is in either case colonized, and bureau­ cratic management o f workers becomes the ch ie f mechanism o f an in ­ ternal colonialism . H ere the expertise o f technicians underm ines the con­ tro l o f those w ho are technically uninform ed w h ile at the same tim e it conceals the form al dom ination o f owners and p o litica l authorities. Bu­ reaucracy, then, becomes the mechanism o f the in te rn a l colonization o f production, b ridging tensions among those whose cooperation is required, and co n tro llin g the in p u t o f th e ir services. In the view proposed here, then, the capitalist mode o f production is characterized by a fusion o f venality, on the one side—production fo r private p ro fit—w ith , on the other, a drive fo r efficiency, in so fa r as this is necessary fo r the form er. V e n a lity and lust fo r gain have existed at m any times and places, and scarcely distinguish capitalism ; they become capitalism only when integrated w ith the logic o f efficiency. Yet m uch

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o f the alienation o f w ork, bom o f a heightened division o f labor, o f re­ mote centralized authority, o f im personal treatm ent o f persons, derives no less from the logic o f efficiency than from venality. Indeed, in T he Germ any Ideology, M a rx and Engels cited the division o f labor as the very source o f alienation. T h is, surely, is not elim inated when private form s o f property in production are expropriated and handed over to the State. Indeed, nationalization o f production intensifies alienation s till fu rth e r, heightening centralization o f control, increasing size, specializa­ tion, and remoteness, and strengthening depersonalization. M a rx assumed that the endless p u rsu it o f capital grow th, o f M -C -M '— the anomic insatiable p u rsu it o f capital accum ulation—was constrained only by capitalism s quest fo r private gain. Yet the quest fo r power, the e ffo rt to strengthen the power o f the in d u stria l state in te rn a lly and in ­ ternationally, ju st as surely leads it to an insatiable quest fo r capital grow th through the endless intensifications o f an impersonal efficiency. There can then be other forms o f capitalism , where the pursuit o f capital accum ulation is no less endless, b u t where the co n tro llin g im pulse is power not p ro fit. E fficiency m otivated by a private anim us was only one form o f capitalism ; in the quest fo r a state-governed socialism, it gave way to a new form o f capitalism , one whose drive fo r efficiency is linked to its power drive. B u t the analysis o f this side o f capitalism was subordinated by M arx, w ho dw elled instead on capitalism s venality, its lust fo r money, its huck­ stering, rather than seeing that cold-blooded huckstering need be no more deadly to a hum ane existence than cold-blooded efficiency in servi­ tude to power. T h a t M a rx fastened onto huckstering, b u t neglected the pathologies o f efficiency, bespoke an irra tio n a l element. T h a t element was his nuclear m etaphor w hich lin ke d capitalism through huckstering and anchored it in strong and angry feelings toward Jewry. H e could not seriously entertain the possibility that w hat he called capitalism m ig h t be only one species o f capitalism , b u t that another, freed o f its lim its o f private ownership, m ig h t then pursue the endless accum ulation o f capital w ith an impersonal efficiency even more deadly than private ve n a lity because it could do so in the name o f a higher value, the Species Being, fo r w hich no sacrifice could be too great.

5 Artisans and Intellectuals: Socialism and the Revolution of 1848

M arxism developed through a double movement. In the forw ard phase it asserted a positive doctrine that it held to be correct and true. Yet no theory is born in to unoccupied te rrito ry. L ike an invading tribe that en­ ters a land, it must deal w ith those w ho came before. A n y new theory, then, enters a theoretical terrain, parts o f w hich have already been claim ed by other theories and (w h a t is not id e n tic a l) by other theorists. In a second phase, M arxism thus develops through a process o f selec­ tive rejections (antitheses), o fferin g a critiq u e o f doctrines that came be­ fore it as w ell as o f the theorists whose inte lle ctu a l property they were. M arxism adapted to its theoretical terrain and sought to w in a place fo r its e lf by responding selectively to earlier theories, a llyin g its e lf w ith some, opposing others, and distin g u ish in g its e lf from both adversaries and allies by claim ing to make a co n trib u tio n that is o rig in a l. I t claim ed certain ideas as the inte lle ctu a l property o f its founders and adherents. T h e ecology o f a theoretical terrain is not ju s t bipolar, b u t trip a rtite , consisting o f those defined as adherents, adversaries, and competitors. C om m only, the first tw o w ill be acknowledged openly fo r w hat they are, w h ile “ com petitors” are not always openly defined as such. C om petitors' theories are those seeking to occupy the same social space, to perform a sim ilar social or inte lle ctu a l fu n ctio n , to w in over the same social group; indeed, they may even be those opposing the same adversaries. Com petitors are often allies w ho have had a fa llin g out; allies are often com petitors who (a t least te m p o ra rily) resolved th e ir differences. B y way o f both its positive and negative movements, a theory such as 88

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M arxism grows a cu ltu ra l membrane separating itse lf from its adversaries and com petitors, thus d e fin in g the boundaries that constitute its id e n tity. C learly, fo r example, M arxism was shaped by its contest in two direc­ tions, against bourgeois theory—e.g., “ vulgar” p o litica l economy—and also against com peting socialism. I f the C om m unist M anifesto begins w ith a v iv id critiq u e o f bourgeois society and its class culture, it ends w ith a c ritiq u e —no less b itin g —o f “ utopian” socialism and others: feudal socialism, reactionary socialism, and “ true” socialism. T hus the enemies o f a theory’s enemies are not always its friends, precisely because they are sometimes its com petitors. L ike other theories, M arxism established its e lf by accentuating those o f its doctrines that separate and distinguish it from its adversaries and from its com petitors, w h ile at the same tim e glossing over or rem aining silent about doctrines it may share w ith them . I t thereby established dis­ tinguishable id e n tity fo r itse lf, enabling it to make claims, and seek re­ sources and com m itm ents in its own name. It is neither ju st research nor facts and logic, then, that shape the character o f a theory; the iden­ tity o f a theory is shaped also by the politics and the p o litica l economy o f the intellectual life . B elieving in the v a lid ity o f its own view o f the social w orld and be­ lie vin g that m uch hangs on the possession o f correct ideas, M arxists (lik e others) w ork to place themselves in strategic positions where their theory can shape events; at the same time,’ they seek to prevent others, bearing theories they deem w rong, from capturing in flu e n tia l positions. T h e contest between theories is thus accompanied by a more or less visible struggle among d iffe re n t theorists to control social positions, to co-opt resources, or to influence social movements. Theorists in “ scien tific” com m unities insist that a theory’s survival should depend only on the indications o f research; the influence o f the politics and p o litica l economy o f the inte lle ctu a l life , being taken as deviant from prescription, is com m only glossed or denied. In more openly p o litica l com m unities, however, the struggle fo r control o f re­ sources and positions is less disguised. A tte m p tin g to live in both worlds, seeing its e lf as both science and as politics, M arxism does not acknow l­ edge openly that its struggle fo r advantageous positions has a certain autonom y; it tends, instead, to define this struggle only as a means o f blocking erroneous—e.g., “ bourgeois reform ist” —theories, rather than seeking positions fo r the advantages accruing to th e ir incum bents. Every theory, then, has a palpable everyday practice and, indeed, a p o litica l practice however fogged over by inte lle ctu a l pieties. T h is prac­ tice aims at the creation or capture o f organizational instrum ents—and o f th e ir control centers—w hether these are in universities, p o litica l

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parties, or social movements. I f socialism is more than a theory b u t an historical movement, as M a rx insisted, this means in part that it has an organizational infrastructure w hich serves as an arena fo r the struggle o f com peting theories, w hich generates desired offices and benefits, and in part serves as an instrum ent o f the theory. W h ile it was always o f great im portance fo r M arxism , the organizational infrastructure was n o t system atically theorized by M arxists u n til L e n in s W h a t Is T o Be Done? (1 9 0 2 ). Yet M arxism s organizational life , even d u rin g M arx's life tim e , is no less consequential fo r its history than the theoretical an­ cestors from whom it learned or w ith whom it struggled. W e shall see then that M arxism begins on a terrain already occupied n o t o n ly by other theories b u t also by a set o f social organizations associated w ith them . M arxism develops its theories w h ile it also searches fo r or creates an organizational apparatus. Its theorists make a deliberate and active search fo r organizations that can be th e ir instrum ent, sometimes creating new organizations o f th e ir own (th e C om m unist League), and some­ times jo in in g and in flu e n cin g organizations at first largely launched by others (th e International W orkingm en's Association). Yet any form ulation that predicates that an organization is sim ply the instrum ent o f a theory or theorists is also too sim plified by far. M arxism 's doctrines are not to be construed as the o n ly source o f its goals, nor are its organizations sim ply the means used to pursue these previously fo r­ m ulated objectives. I f theory and organization each has a life o f its own, each also depends on the other. I shall suggest that a theory is in part produced not ju st by theorizing, b u t by the entire way o f life it leads w ith in its organizational m ilie u . For its part, the organization is n o t ju st an instrum ent that subm its to a theory, b u t is also a p o litica l com m unity in w hich persons may spend m uch o f th e ir lives and satisfy m any o f th e ir needs. I t can thus become an end in its e lf that strives to survive quite apart from its serviceability fo r achieving socialism or other goals. A n y idea, then, that an organization is a mere instrum ent obediently serving a theory is devoid o f sociological realism; no historiography or ethnography supports this rationalist illu sio n . Both theory and organiza­ tion influence each other; each is an environm ent fo r the other. A theory such as M arxism is thus not ju st the 'm in d ," "eyes," or "steer­ in g " organ o f an organization precisely because it is also greatly depen­ dent on the organizational "body." (Indeed, this is consistent w ith M a rx ­ ism itse lf, when it asserts that consciousness is not independent o f "social b e in g .") A n organism ic m etaphor is deceptive here if, as is com­ m only the case, it is taken to im p ly an hierarchical ordering in w hich one "organ"—m ind, philosophy, theory, or any other—"steers" the entire organism, w h ile the latte r genially submits to this w ith o u t resistance,

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and as i f a ll the “ organs” were brought together by the steering mecha­ nism in to an harm onious integration. Yet m uch of w hat is called “ sys­ tems theory” today is distorted by just such a rationalistic and organismic perspective. A better model (b e tte r, ethnographically and h istoriographically) takes an ecological view o f organizations and o f th e ir component structures, in c lu d in g th e ir “ steering” mechanism. Im p lic it in the usual systems the­ ory is a tacit subject-object d istin ctio n , in w hich the “ object” is seen p rim a rily from the standpoint o f the “ subject” ; i.e., in w hich the steer­ in g organ has powers, knowledge, and interests that presum ably d iffe rentiate it radically from other organizational structures or “ organs.” In an ecological view o f organizations, however, the steering structure is seen as having m any sim ilarities to the others, sharing w ith them q u alita­ tive ly sim ila r powers, knowledge, and interests, as w e ll as lim its on these. A n ecological view , then, sees steering structures as fundam entally akin to, part of, and dependent on, the other structures it steers. In this view , a ll sub-structures seek steering powers, and a ll seek to reproduce or enhance th e ir steering powers, as w e ll as advantages deemed necessary fo r effective steering or as appropriate rewards fo r it. A nd all structures, w hether n o m in a lly in charge o f steering or not, seek to sepa­ rate th e ir incom ing resources and gratifications from too close a depen­ dence on th e ir steering performances, thus enabling them to receive con­ tinued rewards even i f fa ilin g to achieve th e ir goals. T h e ecological view, then, sees even planned organization as consisting o f conflicting, compet­ ing, or contending parts—rather than as an harm oniously integrated organism —each part alike in pursuing its own advantage, and each al­ leging that it seeks the collective good (and is therefore deserving of greater influence on steering). T h is is not to say that a ll structures contribute equally to the collec­ tive good o f the organization as a whole, at any particular tim e. N o r is it to say that certain structures do not sometimes actually make “ a ltru istic” contributions. Yet a structure may be constrained to contribute to the w elfare o f the w hole rather than doing so gladly and w illin g ly . I f a struc­ ture has succeeded in capturing the steering fu n ctio n , i f it gets itse lf de­ fined as “ steerer” o f sorts, it is then often constrained (b y that very iden­ tity and by the substantial advantages associated w ith it ) to concern its e lf w ith the w elfare o f its co lle ctivity, i f only to preserve its own p riv i­ leges. T h e egoism o f a steering organ, then, is not u n lim ite d precisely because its private advantage depends in part on how it perform s its p u b lic fu n ctio n . In an ecological view , a ll organization parts—in clu d in g the steering organs—are alike in com peting fo r scarce resources, although those who

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succeed in capturing the steering fu n ctio n have a great com petitive ad­ vantage. N one, therefore, is ever the e n tire ly selfless “ representative” or obedient servant o f another. In order to ensure secure access, each seeks a measure o f control over resources on w h ich its own fu tu re depends. T h u s even a steering structure supposedly serving the co lle ctivity com­ petes w ith that very co lle ctivity or parts o f it. In this view , all functions are perform ed by structures w hich can become Calibans. Those successful in securing or capturing “ steering” structures, com­ m only legitim ate these powers by a universalistic rhetoric; they present themselves as sign ifica n tly d iffe re n t from other organization structures by reason o f th e ir supposed non-partisan, above-the-struggle n e u tra lity, a universalistic rhetoric through w h ich the steering structure protects its p a rticula ristic interests. Yet a ll structures use m uch the same rhetoric to ju s tify th e ir claims on group resources. A n organizational analysis grounded in a systems theory that fails to see the partisan, self-interested character o f any steering structure is a regression to a utopianism that returns behind M a rx to H egel. T h e organizational context o f M arxism has a specifically historical character; it is part o f a larger, more diffuse p ro life ra tio n o f organiza­ tions in the nineteenth century. “ T h e nineteenth century was par excel­ lence a century o f organization,” w rites P. H . Noyes, “ hosts o f associa­ tions sprang up, from secret revolutionary conspiracies and p u b lic p o litica l parties to trade unions, singing and gymnastic clubs, temperance and ladies political s o c ie t ie s Noyes sees the rapid developm ent o f such as­ sociations as a response to the decline o f the old hierarchical society and the need fo r new group memberships to compensate fo r a new anonym ­ ity . T o this it may be added that m any W estern Europeans, both ru ral and urban, had long acquired considerable organizational experience and competence, one o f the most im portant groups o f this sort being the artisans w ith th e ir long tra d itio n o f g u ild experience. T h u s w hen the old arrangements began to deteriorate in Europe, there were m any w ith am­ ple organizational competence to begin a re b u ild in g w h ich m ig h t pro­ vide them w ith special-purpose organizations to protect th e ir threatened interests and to serve as new rudim entary com m unities. As a “ real historical m ovem ent,” M arxism was a fusion o f ideology w ith organization, each bleeding in to and d e fin in g the other. T o view theory only as organizations steering mechanism, however, is an an­ thropom orphic reification. I t conceals the fact that theory is not selfm aintaining, b u t is strategically situated in a relatively few privileged persons w ho steer or, more precisely, w ho attem pt to steer. T h e ir in te r­ pretations and applications o f theory are selectively structured by the privileged positions they occupy and seek to retain. T h e content o f the

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theory its e lf only provides a provisional grammar—part cause and part post-factum ideology—a llo w in g or disallow ing a large variety o f interpre­ tations and steering maneuvers, and often m erely serving to ju s tify strat­ egies grounded in interests, expedience, and prudence. In w hat follow s, these very general considerations are used to alert us to selected aspects o f M arxism ’s early history. O u t o f this inte rpla y be­ tween the theoretical sketch above,2 and the historical sketch to follow , there w ill emerge an account o f M arxism s group and class origins.

C ritic a l Episode i : T h e W e itlin g P aradigm A fte r the Congress o f V ie nn a ,” wrote Boris N icolaievsky and O tto M aenchen-H elfen in th e ir classic biography o f M arx, “ Europe was fu ll o f secret societies.” 3 T h e C om m unist M anifesto was o f course w ritte n for the C om m unist League, as the organization founded by M a rx and Eng­ els in 1845 came to be know n. W h ile d iffe rin g from earlier groups, the C om m unist League was nonetheless th e ir lineal descendant: In p a rticu ­ lar, the League was successor to the League o f the Just w hich, in tu rn , had emerged from the League o f Exiles. For a long tim e secret societies in Germany continued to be almost ex­ clusively composed of students and professional men. . . . T he “ League o f Exiles” had arisen o riginally of em igre intellectuals and it had in ­ creased its members by adm itting workers to its ranks. . . . T h e w ork­ ers in the League of Exiles cut themselves a d rift from the intellectuals and formed a new society of th eir ow n—the League of the Just. H a rd ly any educated men belonged to it. T h e League o f the Just entirely dis­ sociated themselves from the radical literary groups, w ith whom they wished to have nothing whatsoever to do.4

One o f the im portant persons lin k in g the earlier secret societies and the C om m unist League was W ilh e lm W e itlin g , who was the leading founder o f the League o f the Just, as w e ll as one o f the eighteen mem­ bers fo u n d in g the C om m unist League. Bom in 18 18 in M agdeburg, W e itlin g “ was the ille g itim a te son o f a French officer and a German laundress . . . often subjected to h u m ilia tio n , the young, brooding, tal­ ented and gifted ta ilo rs apprentice became a rebel early.” 5 In tim e, W e itlin g became “ a very talented w rite r and a successful p o litica l orga­ nizer. H is eloquence was often spellbinding and he even wrote poems in • »6 prison. Arrested and im prisoned by the Swiss in 1843 for blasphemy and at­ tacking private property, his tria l had attracted attention throughout E u­ rope and “ caused m any people to hear o f Com m unism fo r the first tim e.” 7 For some, W e itlin g and com m unism were then almost one.

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A fte r his release from prison, W e itlin g w ent to H am burg and then on to London where he was feted by the C hartists, and rejoined the G er­ mans w ho had fled there after the B lanquist risin g in Paris o f M a y 12, 1839. A fte r the fa ilu re o f that rising, the League o f the Just had sepa­ rated in to tw o groups. One had developed under W e itlin g s tutelage in Sw itzerland, the other had gone to London where it came under the leadership o f K arl Schapper, H e in ric h Bauer, and Joseph M o ll. T h e tw o groups soon developed d iffe re n t perspectives and policies, W e itlin g s Swiss faction stressing an egalitarian com m unism concerned w ith justice and grounded in m oral principles. D u rin g 1848, fo r exam­ ple, he called fo r equal pay fo r a ll.8 H e also began to develop ideas about lau n ch in g g u errilla warfare w ith an arm y made up o f those M a rx w ould deride as “ lumpenproletarians.” B elieving that property was th e ft, he called upon the proletariat to get w hat was rig h tfu lly theirs by stealing it back. Less m ilita n t by far, the London faction developed connections w ith the C hartist movement, seeking social and parliam entary reform , and conducted an intensive educational program . Schapper and his L o n ­ don group were gradualists contem ptuous o f conspiracy. “ W e have given up such stupidities long ago,” he wrote M a rx on June 6, 1846, “ and we have seen w ith jo y that you hold the same view . N a tu ra lly , we are con­ vinced that one w ill not and cannot dispense w ith a thorough revolu­ tion, b u t to w ant to b rin g it about by conspiracies and stupid proclam a­ tions a la W e itlin g is ridiculous.” 9 W e itlin g , however, insisted that “ the people were long since ripe fo r the new social order . . . fo r w h ich a ll that was required was the deter­ m ined in itia tiv e o f a revolutionary organisation [and th a t] . . . the obso­ lete old w orld m ust be crushed at a blow by the dictatorship o f a revolu­ tionary m in o rity .” 10 N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen, w ho cham pion M a rx against W e itlin g , add that this was a theme to be sounded again: “ One almost seems to hear the voice o f B akunin, w ith whom M a rx was to repeat the same struggle tw enty years later.” W e itlin g s message was “ revolution now ” ; “ . . . everybody is ripe fo r Com m unism , even the crim inals. . . . H u m a n ity is o f necessity always ripe fo r revolution, or it never w ill be. T h e la tte r is n o th in g b u t the phraseology o f our oppo­ nents. I f we fo llo w them [said W e itlin g ] we shall have no choice b u t to lay our hands on our knees and w a it u n til the roasted pigeons fly in to our m ouths.” 11 W e itlin g held that “ Democracy and m ilita ry rule am ount to the same th in g : o n ly in the im m ediate setting up o f a com m unist state is there any sense.” 12 W e itlin g , then, was a revolutionary voluntarist w ho stressed justice, equality, m orality, passion, feeling and choice; Schappers faction was (a t least fo r a w h ile ) guided by a more p rudent “ reason” —in the slanted

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account o f N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen. Schapper's faction in ­ sisted that people were not yet ready fo r revolution, and that “ tru th could not be knocked in to peoples heads w ith rifle b u tts /' hence a longrange program o f education and propaganda was needed. T h e ir group's London meetings “ were orderly and follow ed a fixed routine o f instruc­ tion. One evening each week was devoted to studying the English lan­ guage, another to geography, another to history, another to draw ing and physics, another to singing, another to dancing, another to the dissemi­ nation o f C om m unist ideas. Each half-year the subjects o f instruction changed. T h e atmosphere was thoroughly Germ anic; there were regula­ tions to be obeyed, and everyone took his pipe from his m outh when the speakers delivered th e ir speeches.''13 For his part, however, W e itlin g sus­ pected and disliked the intellectuals and “ hum anists'' to whom he fe lt such an educational program was congenial. In his Guaranties o f H arm ony and Freedom o f 1842, W e itlin g made a decisive break w ith earlier Saint-Sim onian “ p h ila n th ro p isin '' and pro­ posed the p rin cip le o f working-class “ self-em ancipation,'' aim ing this in p a rticular against intellectuals: “ W e w ant to have the rig h t to voice our opinion in the p u b lic discussions concerning the good and suffering o f hum anity, fo r we, the people w ith the blouses, the jackets, the w orkcoats, are the most num erous and the most pow erful and yet the least esteemed on God's earth. Since tim e im m em orial the others are always the ones w ho fig h t fo r our interests, or better, for theirs, and it is really tim e that we became at last adults and liberate ourselves from that an­ noying and hateful tutelage. H o w could one w ho participates neither in our joy nor our sorrow, develop an idea about them. . . . Even if he wanted to, he could not do it, fo r o n ly experience makes [people] en­ lightened and w ise."14 Intellectuals were thus being stigmatized as “ out­ siders," disqualified from working-class leadership by reason o f th e ir out­ sider's ignorance. Schapper's accent on education, by contrast, disposed the London group to an alliance w ith educated intellectuals and, in ­ deed, found favor w ith another recent German emigre, K arl M arx. M a rx and Engels had earlier viewed W e itlin g as one o f the main leaders o f European com m unism . In September 1843, fo r example, M a rx had lauded the “ real existing com m unism , as Cabet, Dezamy, W e itlin g , etc., teach and conceive it. T h is com m unism is itse lf separate from the hum anist p rin c ip le ."15 (T h e “ hum anism " o f intellectuals, mocked W e itlin g , derived not from homo, man, “ but from H um aine . . . one o f the leading Paris T ailors. A ll hum anists had to have a suit from H u ­ maine, W e itlin g m a in tain e d ."16) In an article in Vorwarts, M a rx had also earlier celebrated W e itlin g 's Guaranties of H arm ony and Freedom as the “ unbounded b rillia n ce o f the lite ra ry debut o f the German worker. . . . 17

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N ow , however, as M a rx was developing his own position, and as the s p lit between W e itlin g and Schapper widened, M a rx increasingly sepa­ rated him self from views such as W e itlin g ’s, d e fin in g them as expres­ sions o f p rim itivism or utopianism , as tainted w ith religious sentim ental­ ity , and above all, as sub stitu tin g sheer w ill fo r true knowledge o f the social requisites o f a successful com m unist revolution. Nonetheless, in 1844, M a rx s till had little connection w ith workers. “ M a rx had no easy task in gaining the ear o f the C om m unist workers. M ost o f those w ho had ever made contact w ith bourgeois revolutionary w riters had regretted the experience.” 18 U na ffilia te d w ith any o f the older secret societies, in 1845-46, M a rx gathered around him self a new group­ in g that became the C om m unist League. Its eighteen founders in ­ cluded Engels, M a rx s w ife , Jenny, her brother, Edgar von W estphalen, the poet Ferdinand F re ilig ra th , Moses Hess, and W e itlin g . A t that tim e, M a rx was tw enty-eight, the average age o f the group, w h ile W e itlin g was thirty-seven, the oldest man in the group. H e was clearly odd-m an-out. U n lik e the League o f the Just, w hich had been influenced by the “ professor eater” W e itlin g and his artisan fo llo w in g , M a rx s new group was under the hegemony o f intellectuals, the foremost o f course being M a rx him self. U n d e r his leadership, the new group concerned itse lf w ith the ideological correctness o f its members and, rather than being a loose coalition, exerted ideological discipline over its membership, seek­ in g to com m it it to a single theory—M a rxs. T h e basic structure o f the new League augured a sp lit between M a rx and W e itlin g w hich was not long in com ing. G iven that W e itlin g s group and Schappers group were m oving apart; given M a rx s grow ing theo­ retical differences w ith W e itlin g s form o f “ p rim itiv e ” com m unism and his grow ing ( i f tem porary) convergence w ith Schappers faction; given W e itlin g s established prom inence in the in te rna tio n a l com m unist move­ m ent, w h ile M a rx was then a “ brand new convert to socialism” ( in H a l D rapers w ords); given that W e itlin g was ten years older than the Leagues average member, addressing them as Lieben Jungen, w h ile M a rx s age was exactly that o f the average; and given that the group contained M a rx s w ife , Jenny, her brother, and M a rx s close frie n d Eng­ els, W e itlin g clearly had little fu tu re in w hat was from the beginning M a rx s group. W h a t subsequently happened between M a rx and W e itlin g has been recounted m any times and m y in te n tio n here is not, therefore, to add to the supposed “ facts” o f the case b u t to illu m in a te th e ir m eaning, estab­ lish in g th e ir relevance fo r our theoretical perspective. I w ant to stress that w hat “ actually happened” between M a rx and W e itlin g should be regarded as more problem atic than is the case in the usual accounts o f

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the episode. There are in fact o n ly two first-hand accounts o f w hat took place, each w ritte n by a partisan o f one o f the two adversaries, W e itlin g and M arx. One account was rendered by the Russian w rite r, Paul A n ­ nenkov, 'w h o was very close to M a rx at the tim e . . . ,” 19 w h ile the other was w ritte n by W e itlin g , him self, in a letter to another o f the C om m unist Leagues fo u n d in g members, Moses Hess. W e itlin g ’s letter was w ritte n w h ile events were s till fresh in his m ind, as were the feelings they had aroused, the day after they occurred. Annenkov s account, how­ ever, was published some th irty -fiv e years later in Vyestnik Yevro'py, A p ril 1880 (p p . 497-99), w h ile a German translation of this appeared in the S tuttgart D ie N eue Zeit in 1883 (p p . 236-41).20 W h ile not neces­ sarily contradictory, the tw o accounts d iffe r substantially in emphasis. A n y discussion o f the m atter based on these sources should not, there­ fore, foster the impression th a t we are actually recounting an “ event” ; we are, rather, s iftin g and appraising two texts w hich are grounded in diam etrically opposed loyalties. As fo r the “ events” : O n his way back from London to the C on tin e n t in 1846, W e itlin g stopped in at Brussels where M a rx’s new C om m unist com m ittee o f correspondence had recently been organized and w hich M a rx had in vite d h im to jo in , and a b itte r confrontation occurred be­ tween the two, at a m eeting on M arch 30. A nnenkov, in vite d to the m eeting by M arx, was greatly impressed w ith the la tte r’s “ energy, force o f w ill, and unshakable conviction . . . ,” b u t M a rx was also portrayed as “ proud, w ith a touch o f disdain, and his voice sharp. . . . H e spoke o n ly in the im perative, brooking no contradiction.” G reatly attracted, A nnenkov favorably characterized M a rx as a “ democratic dictator.” In contrast, A nnenkov describes W e itlin g as surprisingly w ell turned out in a foppishly cut coat,21 w ith a foppishly trim m ed beard, looking more like a smooth traveling salesman than a solid proletarian, according to A n ­ nenkov. W h a t follow ed between the tw o has been described by Robert Payne as the “ first purge” ; I, fo r m y part, see the event as a ceremony o f status degradation. M a rx p u b lic ly hu m iliate d W e itlin g at a m eeting w hich M a rx chaired, on a topic o f M a rx ’s own choosing, debated before M a rx’s own entourage in c lu d in g his frie n d Engels, and his brother-in-law , Edgar von W estphalen. M a rx used the m eeting to crush W e itlin g ’s self-confi­ dence and p u b lic repute as a com m unist leader, e xh ib itin g before his troupe o f admirers that it was he, the unknow n M arx, rather than the prom inent W e itlin g , w ho was now com m unism ’s “ fastest gun.” M a rx and his troupe launched a verbal B litzkrieg that W e itlin g had no reason to expect, considering M a rx ’s previous hospitality, his p u b lic appreciation o f W e itlin g ’s book, and his recent in vita tio n to collaborate

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p o litic a lly . T h e social fu n ctio n o f that ceremony o f status degradation was, in effect, to appropriate W e itlin g 's charisma fo r M a rx and validate M a rx s claim to lead the C om m unist League w h ile serving to de-legiti­ mate his com petitor. There M a rx sat that day, ‘ pencil in hand and leonine head bent over a sheet o f paper," ensconced at the head o f the table, surrounded by adm iring friends and k in , co n tro llin g the m eetings agenda, recognizing w ho m ig h t speak, deciding w ho was to ask questions and w ho answer them . C alled upon, Engels began the discussion by asking fo r clarifica­ tion o f the theoretical grounds that could serve as the in te lle ctu a l under­ g ird in g o f com m unism and as the basis fo r communism's p o litica l u n ity . Barely able to contain him self, M a rx, however, interjected w ith a ques­ tion whose form A nnenkov insists he remembered exactly: “ B ut te ll us, W e itlin g ," demanded M a rx, “ w hat are the arguments w ith w h ich you defend your social-revolutionary agitation and on w hat do you intend to base it in the fu ture ? " T h e tacit premise o f M arx's belligerent query is w orth noting. M ost fundam entally, he speaks here w ith in the fram ew ork o f the cu ltu re o f critica l discourse—that is, o f the grammar o f theoreticity com m only con­ genial to W estern intellectuals, an ideology o f discourse fo r w hich they (w e ) have an elective a ffin ity. T h is culture o f speech premises that one m ust given reasons (argum ents) in favor o f one's claims, that these and the principles on w hich they rest must be stated articulately, and that those w ho fa il to do so are in te lle ctu a lly deficient and deviant. As I have discussed elsewhere, “ the culture o f critica l discourse requires that the v a lid ity o f claims be ju stifie d w ith o u t reference to the speaker's societal position or a u th o rity . . ."22 and therefore w ith o u t reference to his achievements. T h e culture o f critica l discourse is thus a rhetorical strategy that ap­ peals to younger persons w ho are com m only the less prom inent and less accomplished. I t is useful against those who are older and more presti­ gious, by in effect declaring that the latter's claim s—even w hen grounded in th e ir achievements—are irrelevant to the discussion. Younger men prefer to compare th e ir arguments, and those alone, w ith the arguments o f th e ir older competitors. Being at a disadvantage should the issue be made to rest on th e ir relative accomplishments, the younger men declare these to be irrelevant. W e itlin g 's accomplishments in the com m unist w orld were, o f course, fa r more substantial than M arx's, and the latter, therefore, chose a d iffe re n t battleground: the relative m erits o f th e ir views. “ Practical" men o f some accom plishm ent fu rth e r th e ir claims by e x h ib itin g th e ir deeds; “ intellectuals," however, prefer to e x h ib it th e ir reasons. Each offers w hat serves h im best.

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Shocked by M a rx ’s sudden belligerence, W e itlin g (according to A n ­ nenkov) fum bled fo r a reply, com m itting a sin intolerable to intellec­ tuals: he spoke poorly, h a ltin g ly, w ith evident confusion.23 H e held that it was not incum bent on h im to concoct new theories to ju s tify revolu­ tion; workers’ conditions spoke fo r this more eloquently and they had but to open th e ir eyes to th e ir p lig h t. M oreover, workers need not look to outsiders to deliver them but could emancipate themselves; they were tired o f being patronized by those who, though not sharing th e ir lives, presumed to speak on th e ir behalf. Once again M a rx inte rru p ted , sarcastically declaring that those, like W e itlin g , whose agitation m obilized people w ith o u t having a proper theoretical foundation were frauds who w ould lead their followers to ru in : “ I f you attem pt to influence the workers—especially the German workers—w ith o u t a body o f doctrine and clear scientific ideas, then you are m erely playing an unscrupulous game . . . in a civilized country like G erm any [u n lik e an u n civilize d one like Russia, said M a rx] . . . n o th in g can be achieved w ith o u t a doctrine.” W e itlin g quite n a tu ra lly replied that he was not interested in the doc­ trines o f im practical pedants, b u t was guided by his ample experience and indeed workers all over G erm any recognized h im as th e ir leader. W h ile M a rx, said W e itlin g , had only theories about revolution, he had participated in it and, though modest, his co n tribu tio n made a better start than M a rx ’s ivory-tow er theories. A t this, M a rx lost control of h im ­ self. “ . . . [J]u m p in g to his feet, he shouted: Ignorance has never helped anybody yet.” W e follow ed M a rx ’s example, says A nnenkov, “ . . . rose to our feet, and the conference was over.” T h e next day W e itlin g wrote Hess a letter containing his own ac­ count, w h ich H a l D raper characterizes as “ fu ll o f distortions” (as i f A n ­ nenkov’s account could safely be taken as the standard against w hich to measure i t ) although Engels, in a letter to A ugust Bebel o f October 25, 1888, acknowledges that M a rx ’s m ain thesis had been rendered clearly enough by W e itlin g , even if his w ording m ig h t be inexact. A ccording to W e itlin g ’s letter, M a rx had argued that, “ as for the realization o f com m unism , there can be no ta lk o f it to begin w ith ; the bourgeoisie must first come to the helm .” T hus a difference between them was w hether it was ( in M ao’s w ords) “ always rig h t to rebel” or w hether, as M a rx argued against the Utopians (and according to W e it­ lin g , that n ig h t, too) that a revolution w ith o u t an industrial foundation created by the bourgeoisie w ould be prem ature and doomed to fa il. W e itlin g ’s distressed lette r to Hess expressed the fear that M a rx meant to destroy h im in the press w hich , W e itlin g stressed, was available to M a rx because o f sponsorship by the ric h : “ Rich people have made him

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an editor, voila t o u t ” O utraged at W e itlin g s account, and clearly be­ lie vin g it, Hess wrote M a rx on M a y 20, 1846, that W e itlin g s “ M istru st o f you two [i.e., o f M a rx and Engels] has reached a peak- You tw o have driven h im crazy and now you w onder that he is mad. I do not w ish to have an yth ing more to do w ith this w hole affair; it makes me w ant to vo m it.’M a rx then “ insisted on the s iftin g [purging:*] o f the party and the first blow fe ll on H erm ann Kriege, a close frie n d o f W e itlin g s and a man o f the same way o f th in k in g as he.” 25 A lth o u g h Kriege had by then m igrated to the U n ite d States, M a rx insisted on proceeding against h im ; Kriege was fo rm a lly condemned, a resolution denouncing h im being adopted by vote. T h is subsequently led Schapper to accuse M a rx o f o ve rkill, w h ile the disgusted Hess took the occasion to remove h im self from the new party. I have earlier suggested that the break between W e itlin g and M a rx was foreseeable; yet i f this is hindsight, others saw such outcomes w ith true foresight. In its basic lineam ents it (o r the conditions in d u cin g i t ) was clearly foreseen by one o f M a rx s contemporaries and another o f his ch ie f adversaries, or, more accurately, polem ical targets. T h is was the compositor and w rite r, the anarchist, Pierre Joseph Proudhon, w ho, like W e itlin g , was also asked to jo in the C om m unist League b u t w ho, u n lik e him , refused. “ W ith a ll m y heart I applaud your idea o f b rin g in g all opinions out in to the open,” declared Proudhon in his M a y 17 response to M arx's in vita tio n o f M a y 5, 1846. Proudhon adds, however, L et us have decent and sincere polemics. L et us give the w orld an ex­ ample of learned and farsighted tolerance. B ut sim ply because we are at the head of the movement, let us not make ourselves the leaders o f a new intolerance, let us not pose as the apostles of a new religion—even though this religion be the religion of logic, the religion of reason. L et us w el­ come, let us encourage all the protests. L et us condemn all exclusive­ ness, all mysticism. L et us never regard a question as exhausted, and even when we have used up our last argument, let us begin again, if necessary.

Such, however, was not M arx's way.

N otes on the R e la tio n Betw een A rtisans and In te lle c tu a ls in 1848: A B rie f O v e rv ie w * W h a t is often referred to, by M arxists such as Louis Althusser and Goran Therborn, as M arx's “ history-m aking encounter w ith the w o rkin g * This section written by Karen G. Lucas.

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class ' is w ro n g ly described by th a t phrase on several counts. F or th is e n co u n te r was, first, n e ith e r w ith a “ class” —i f one can ever be said to e n co u n te r a class as such—nor, second, was it p rim a rily w ith “ w orkers” in any M a rx is t sense o f fa cto ry proletarians.

M arx's early encounter was w ith men such as W e itlin g (a ta ilo r) and other artisans, not the ind u stria l proletariat. As modern social historians have documented, it was artisans, not the proletariat, that had exhibited the greatest m ilita n cy d u rin g the 1848 revolutions and, indeed, before then. M arx's relationship to these radical artisans was, moreover, p ri­ m a rily a relationship w ith th e ir organizations, p a rticu la rly secret societies such as the League o f the Just, and w ith the m ilita n ts and activists in them. Standing between M a rx and the w orking class, then, were the p ro life ra tin g new organizations. W h ile often radical or revolutionary, th e ir members and s till more, th e ir leaders were not factory hands, w hat­ ever th e ir professions o f devotion to the “ proletariat” —a term then in ­ creasingly current. T hus, one o f these early organizations, T h e Society o f Seasons, had as its fo u r ch ie f revolutionary agents a cabinet-maker, a copper-turner, a gilder, and a jou rn a list. It is notable that artisans were then connected w ith intellectuals, or near intellectuals such as jou rn a l­ ists. Journalism was, then, an occupation to w hich artisans and profes­ sionals w ho had failed often turned. Indeed, the diffe re n tiatio n between p la in ly artisanal occupations and more intellectual ones was then considably less developed than now. For form al te rtia ry education was then less universally requisite fo r entrance to some o f the intellectual or profes­ sional occupations. Both intellectuals and artisans played dom inant roles in radical groups. In that vein, E ric Hobsbawm also relates that among the leaders o f the Societe C om m uniste R evolutionnaire were a doctor, two tailors, a form er soldier, a maker o f straw covers, and a w ine mer­ chant.26 A t least since R u d o lf Stadelmann's path-breaking w ork, Soziale und politische Geschichte der Revolution von 1848 (M u n ic h , 1948), it has been clear that artisans played a m ajor role in organizing rebellion in Europe. Stadelmann argued that it was not sheer economic deprivation that generated revolution. “ . . . [O ppression creates discontent and op­ position [he held] o n ly where it is perceived as inju stice .” 27 a theme to w hich B arrington M oore w ould return. Stadelmann found that the a rti­ sans uprooted by the rising factory system were the most m ilita n t revolu­ tionaries in the German revolution o f 1848. Fragmented and w ith o u t u n ifo rm trade regulations, G erm any was late to jo in the movement to­ ward in d u stria liza tio n : but as factories developed there, as free trade regulations were prom ulgated, as the Zollverein increased its market area, and as railroads grew and brought goods from Russia and England to

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distant German markets, com petition among the artisans increased and th e ir socioeconomic position deteriorated. T h e factory system rose alongside the artisan g u ild system, slow ly destroying the latter as it d id so. Artisans at a ll levels—masters, journey­ men, and apprentices—feared and suffered the resulting damage. Y et w h ile com m only in ju re d by the rising factory system, lines o f cleavage appeared soon enough between journeym en and those masters w ho could hire larger num bers o f unem ployed workers; some o f the masters began to set up w hat were in effect small factories. By the tim e o f the depres­ sion o f the late 1840s, journeym en were increasingly desperate and alien­ ated, and they became increasingly involved in m any p o litica l projects and secret societies, as they had earlier been active in the Gesellenbruderschaften Qcompagnonnage in France). A t that tim e, moreover, the largest part o f the w orkin g class consisted o f artisans and g u ild members. A c­ cording to H am erow there were s till about 2,800,000 artisans in Prussia, b u t there were o n ly about 571,000 workers in factories.28 Indeed, in some analyses, the artisans have been pictured as an expanding group whose num bers were grow ing more ra p id ly than that o f the population at large.29 M em bers at all levels o f the artisan hierarchy had defined th e ir per­ sonal id e n tity in relation to th e ir cra ft and g u ild . T h e y had once seen th e ir fu tu re in terms o f a predictable movement up this tra d ition a l h ie r­ archy. In large part, social differences between masters and journeym en had been accepted because the la tte r m ig h t hope to become masters them ­ selves, gaining social prestige and its privileges, such as being able to m arry daughters o f masters. Status differences w ith in the guilds coincided w ith age differences; the age hierarchy thus reinforced the occupational. Masters had n o rm a lly taken one or two apprentices or journeym en, w ho often lived in th e ir homes. T h is liv in g arrangement provided o p p o rtu n ity fo r the master and his w ife to educate these workers n o t o n ly in the craft, b u t more broadly as w ell, in matters o f social behavior and p o litica l thought. Re­ gardless o f th e ir position in the hierarchy, artisans usually considered themselves as substantial members o f th e ir com m unity and as members o f an honorable corporate group w ith proud traditions. T h is self-view, w hich was also held by the general p u b lic, was often retained even after journeym en's incomes fe ll below those o f factory workers. As the decline o f the guilds and artisanship continued, masters se­ verely restricted the num bers o f journeym en w ho m ig h t rise to master­ ship: those masters w ho could afford to took on more journeym en than before, w ith the result th a t the latter were now less lik e ly to be able to

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live w ith the masters. H a vin g little money, they often roomed w ith other journeym en and kept each other company after w orkin g hours, so that the master's influence on th e ir ideological and p o litica l views was replaced by peer group influences w hich m igh t support more unconven­ tional views. Soon masters ceased to welcome journeym en as husbands for their daughters, because the journeym en were not, and were not going to become, th e ir social equals.30 T h e two artisan groups were increasingly cu t o ff from one another. W ith th e ir prospects o f m oving upward sharply curtailed, artisans' hopes fo r the fu tu re became less optim istic; th e ir life styles were dim inished; th e ir social status underm ined. A n old feature o f the g u ild structure took on new im portance: the W anderjahren, the required years o f ‘ w andering." Each journeym an was required to travel to other cities and countries to develop his knowledge o f the trade by observing the techniques and products o f other places. These travels often were to Paris and Sw itzerland, where the journeym en were in ­ creasingly open to the new and even radical ideas w hich they w ould encounter fre q u e ntly in meetings o f p o litica l groups such as the League o f the Just.31 N e w cosmopolitan ideologies began to circulate ra p id ly among the w ell-traveled artisans, and, as they began to be viewed as suspect, they were subjected to harassment by Prussian customs officials and border guards. Indeed, in 1835, the German Federal D ie t outlawed travel by journeym en to places where there were groups and meetings “ openly aim ing at endangering and destroying p u b lic order." Students were also victim s o f bureaucratic harassment when traveling, w hich provided one o f the common grounds fo r the discontent o f artisans and intellectuals.32 A lth o u g h artisans were o f crucial im portance to the 1848 revolution, by no means all were actually radicalized, though there was widespread disaffection among them and some turned to socialist views. M a n y sim­ p ly wanted restoration o f the g u ild system, lim ita tio n s on factories, tariffs on im ported m anufactured goods. M a n y others among the journeym en, however, also p la in ly saw that there could be no re tu rn in g to the old days o f the guild's glory. Journeymen in p articular wanted the guilds changed in various ways, especially the removal o f hereditary privileges bestowed upon masters. I t w ould clearly be an error to view all artisan demands as either reactionary or as narrow ly economistic. T h e y often supported freedom o f the press, free education, and they wished to expand the powers o f parliam ents and to protect religious liberties. Even the A rtisan Congress, w hich was composed o f masters rather than less conservative journeym en, urged the F ra n k fu rt Parliam ent in 1848 to

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support a progressive income tax, a property tax, and to substitute de­ portation fo r capital punishm ent—demands that the Parliam ent found “ radical.” 33 T h a t artisans' demands were not narrow ly economistic was n o th in g new in 1848. T h e French artisan-led Conspiracy o f the Equals, o f 1797, whose m ain object is evident in th e ir name and from th e ir M anifeste des Egaux, is another and im portant indication o f this. Yet w hether the artisans wanted to return to the past and restore the guilds, or w hether they wanted to move forw ard toward a new more egalitarian fu ture , the middle-class liberals dom inant at the F ra n k fu rt Parliam ent rejected the artisans' demands. T h e liberals thereby lost th e ir most m ili­ tant supporters and were then vulnerable to the monarchy's counter­ attack. As H am erow remarks, a picture o f the artisans was, at that p o in t, “ . . . the p o rtra it o f a social class on the b rin k o f disaster.''34 I t was an uprooted class caught in the m iddle, as Stadelmann had seen. Artisans increasingly found themselves deprived o f th e ir privileged legal and so­ cial position, w hich had form erly made them respected com m unity mem­ bers and protected them from com petition. It was thus not just economic in ju ry b u t also status threat that led the artisans in to opposition: “ the man w ho gave up his own shop and offered h im self fo r hire lost social status, and surrendered his claim to independence.''35 A ll over Europe, therefore, it was the artisans, not the factory w ork­ ers, w ho became the street fighters o f the revolution in the m id-nine­ teenth century. “ Masses o f im poverished handicraftsm en roamed through the streets o f central Europe, dem onstrating, rio tin g , dem anding bread, threatening m illow ners, stoning factories. . . . T h e y were the shock troops o f the spring u p risin g '' in 1848.36 “ In Paris the revolutionary crowds consisted o f m any crafts that had been prom inent in earlier agitation, from the riots o f 1789-93 through abortive risings early d u rin g the 1830s and early 1840s. . . . T ra d itio n a l leaders o f street fig h tin g included construction workers and butchers. W eavers played a m ajor role in the B erlin revolution, w h ich began in a weaving d istrict. Artisans o f various sorts spearheaded the risin g in V ienna . . . craftsmen were prom inent in revolutionary agitation in cities like M arseilles and Lyons, w h ile artisan congresses d u rin g the German revolution drew support from a w ide range o f cities.''37 In France and Germ any, guilds had deteriorated as early as 1789, b u t they remained stronger in econom ically backward C entral Europe. In 1810, however, the Prussian governm ent lim ite d guilds, w h ile in 1819 the D uchy o f Nassau abolished the rights o f guilds, opening occupations to a ll comers, and H anover completed the process in the Germanies in 1846-47.

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. . . news of the successful revolution in Paris became fo r Central E u­ rope the signal fo r widespread attacks on factories and business establish­ ments . . . [there was] extensive destruction of property by impover­ ished handicraftsmen, as u n ru ly mobs in the Rhineland and W estphalia paraded through the streets, stoned the residences of the rich, and set fire to m ills.38

W ith the entrance o f Hesse-Hassel to the Z ollverein in 1831, there were riots in H anover that, some m onths later, were repeated in the Palatinate. In 1844, ^ ve thousand starving Silesian weavers rioted and were crushed—after the rio t had spent its e lf—w ith bloody vengeance. T h u rin g e n artisans wrecked the n a il factory in Schmalkaden; the R hine cutlers rampaged against the iron foundries; the craftsmen of Solingen rioted; teamsters and freightm en rose against the railroads near Kastel in Nassau; R hine sailors warred on the steamships. W hen K arl M a rx met those he thought o f as real workers, they were ac­ tu a lly, fo r the most part, artisans seething w ith unrest and b itte r about inju stice no less than deprivation, artisans who, w ith th e ir g u ild tradi­ tions, had considerable organizational competence. Yet it was precisely because these artisans were the most p o litic a lly vocal and radicalized workers that M a rx acquired an exaggerated view o f the radical potential o f the proletariat w hich , in the common parlance o f his tim e, usually included various im poverished groups. In short, when the ordinary lan­ guage o f M a rx ’s tim e spoke o f the ‘ proletariat” and “ proletarianization,” it d id not neatly distinguish between uprooted artisans and poor factory workers. As a result, the obvious radicalism o f the artisans m igh t metonym ically, b u t m istakenly, be seen as standing fo r the radicalism o f the w hole, in c lu d in g the factory workers. M a rx stigm atized artisans as conservative or even as reactionary petty bourgeoisie, and yet M a rx ’s view o f the revolutionary potential o f the proletariat seems to have been grounded in his encounter w ith radical artisans, a judgm ent w hich he then dubiously applied to factory workers instead. “ D ub io u sly” because the German factory workers had been passive onlookers at the 1848 revolution, and although “ th e ir standard o f liv in g was scarcely high and th e ir w orkin g conditions punishing, they were often better o ff than the artisans.” 39 T h e demand fo r trained fac­ tory labor remained relatively stable d u rin g the depression and indus­ tria l wages were consistently higher than those o f the g u ild shops. T h e fa ilu re o f M a rx ’s prediction o f the radicalization o f factory workers in the technologically advanced in d u stria l system o f W estern Europe derived from his mistaken view o f the actual locus o f m ilita n cy in the w orking class, and from his fa ilu re to see that at the center o f the revolution were the very artisans whose revolutionary potential he had denied. I t was

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only as the artisans were dim inished and defeated by the rising in d u stria l system, and o n ly as a factory proletariat became more im portant, that the European w orkin g class accommodated itse lf increasingly to the status quo,40 ign o rin g the historical destiny M a rx had laid upon them. Socialism had little influence on German artisans up to this p o in t; “ far more m iddle class intellectuals than actual workers were converted/ 41 M a rx and Engelss own m ovement in to com m unism was part o f ju st that s h ift among middle-class intellectuals. V e it V a le n tin ’s classical study o f the revolution o f 1848 emphasized that it was precisely the educated, often sons o f the rich, teachers, doctors, journalists, lawyers, intellectuals, w ho w ent over to the 1848 revolution 42 T h e radicals among the 1848 revolutionaries were more lik e ly to include independent professions such as the lawyers, doctors, or journalists, as w ell as some teachers. T h e cen­ ter was more lik e ly to be represented by prestigious college professors and ju d ic ia l officials. W h ile one reason fo r the presence o f teachers among the L e ft parties was that they and “ w riters are required to cultivate a critica l disposition,” 43 there were, also, straightforw ard market motives. Just as the disaffection o f artisans had been p a rtly fostered by th e ir oversupply relative to m arket opportunities, a sim ilar excess o f educated m anpower had also occurred at that tim e. W . H . R iehl had remarked that “ G erm any produces a greater inte lle ctu a l product than she can use and p a y/ 44 F riedrich Paulsen also spoke o f the “ chronic overcrow ding o f the learned professions and th e ir greatly depressed economic condi­ tions” in the nineteenth century, an overcrow ding fostered by reform o f the university system in G erm any and by the state’s encouragement o f tra in in g in professions useful in its bureaucracy. Lenore O ’Boyle has contributed im portant support to the hypothesis that certain profes­ sions were overcrowded, perhaps p a rticu la rly w riters. Indeed, one E n ­ glish w it had observed that they m ig h t soon exceed th e ir readers in n u m ­ bers. A t the same tim e, O ’Boyle makes clear that the discontent among certain o f the professions—lawyers, journalists, teachers—was m uch like that found among the artisans in being due “ more to lack o f status than to poverty,” a status threat occasioned by the blockage o f th e ir upw ard m o b ility.45 T h e overproduction o f educated labor power helps explain w hy in te l­ lectuals played a leading role in the revolutions o f 1848, p a rticu la rly in Germ any, to the p o in t where these have been characterized by L . B. N am ier and others as the “ revolution o f the intellectuals.” T h u s the 586 members o f the F ra n k fu rt Parliam ent o f 1848, the first substantial vic­ tory o f that revolution in Germ any, were drawn m ostly from the ranks o f the h ig h ly educated. T h e y included 124 bureaucrats, 104 professors,

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100 ju d ic ia l officials, 95 lawyers, and only 34 landowners and 13 busi­ nessmen.46 T h e im portant part played by intellectuals in 1830 and 1848, both in G erm any and France, was attributable in significant measure to the emergence of som ething like an inte lle ctu a l “ proletariat.” From 1800 to 1830, the absolute and per capita numbers o f college and university students accelerated in both G erm any at large and Prussia in particular. Absolute numbers o f students increased threefold from 5,000 to 15,000, and from 20 to 52.5 per 100,000 inhabitants. T hus the per capita in ­ crease o f the educated indicates that th e ir grow th substantially exceeded w hat m igh t have been expected to be caused by the grow th in population alone.47 Characterized by a significant status disparity between th e ir p u b lic prestige and th e ir incomes, m any o f these intellectuals were un ­ able to live in a m anner tra d itio n a lly held to be appropriate fo r them. Lenore O ’Boyle's later w ork48 has moved toward a systematic com pari­ son between intellectuals in Germ any, France, and England, in an im ­ pressive attem pt to understand w hy overproduction o f educated man­ power was greater in some countries, and w hy it was a locus o f politica l in s ta b ility in some, yet not in all places. W estern Europe was then liv in g through a period o f risin g expectations, especially among the edu­ cated and m iddle classes, w hich had begun w ith the French revolution. Education was seen as a m ajor means o f acquiring position and w ealth, encouraging increased entrance in to law , m edicine, church, the m ilita ry, the state bureaucracy and to the education systems preparing for them. Konrad Jarausch states, however, that “ after a period o f rising expecta­ tions in the 1820s and 1830s opportunities fo r upward m o b ility in to the educated elite were drastically contracting in the 1840s.” 49 As a result, in Prussia o f 1835, “ there were 262 candidates fo r every 100 livin g s in the church, 265 candidates fo r every 100 ju d ic ia l offices and 194 candidates fo r every 100 medical appointm ents.” 50 P artly due to the reform o f the German university system, the increase in university students d u rin g the 1820s was so large as to cause concern fo r the governments. T h e very reform o f the university system and the emergence o f a d istin ct man­ darin subculture among academicians nucleated by a common com m it­ m ent to the idealism o f Fichte, Schleiermacher, and Schelling, endowed intellectuals w ith a sense o f social and national obligation.51 T h is often made them a center fo r reform programs, even among the bureaucracy. T h e Rom antic movement to w hich the youth were especially susceptible encouraged m any young intellectuals to resist paternal expectations of business careers, th e ir resistance often fin d in g support among sym­ pathetic, increasingly educated mothers. T h u s the ranks of the educated

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seeking professional and in te lle ctu a l careers were burgeoning. Career blockage among educated youth was also furthered insofar as m oderniza­ tion and the expectation o f progress, personal and societal, outstripped in d u stria l developm ent, reducing the num ber o f careers possible fo r young people in the private sector. T h is appears to have been most strongly the case in Germ any. In England, however, the possibility o f em igration and o f careers in the colonial services o f an expanding em pire served as a kin d o f “ safety valve” fo r educated manpower. Indeed, ideologists o f colonialization such as Edward W akefield, Charles B u lle r, and Sir W illia m M olesw orth used the grow ing com petition in the professions in England to ju s tify the expansion o f English colonialization. In England, too, the grow th and perquisites o f the new ly developing c iv il service were also ca re fu lly lim ite d —so as not to encourage the educated to place too great a reliance on em ploym ent w ith the state—thereby encouraging careers in the in ­ dependent professions. T h u s w h ile England d id e xh ib it some overproduction o f the educated, it was not as severe as in G erm any and France, and such overproduction as developed was attenuated by the grow th o f the colonial and c iv il services. M oreover, the educated in England were situated in a class system whose aristocracy s till retained widespread influence and in to whose ranks the rising m iddle class often hoped to enter. T h e grow ing group o f the educated therefore continued to accept the c u ltu ra l hege­ m ony o f the aristocracy, as d id the m iddle class itse lf, so that E nglish intellectuals were less lik e ly than th e ir C on tin e n ta l counterparts to serve as a locus o f p o litica l in sta b ility. T h e situation o f educated m anpower in France was affected by the widespread prestige o f the colleges, universities, and the grandes ecoles, w h ile business and commerce were often viewed, as in Germ any, as u n ­ w orthy outlets fo r educated young men. A t the same tim e, French in d u stria l and commercial developm ent lagged behind E ngland’s. France also lacked a colonial expansion that could serve as a safety valve fo r the am bitions o f the educated. T h e educated in France tended to be concen­ trated in Paris, thus creating an u n stabilizing excess o f intellectuals at the n a tio n ’s p o litica l and cu ltu ra l center, more so than in the provinces. I t is im portant to note that ind ustrialization and m odernization m eant that the overproduction o f educated manpower d id not equally affect a ll intellectuals b u t centered on those hum anistically educated and in certain professions; overcrow ding was rather less evident or even non­ existent in the newer technological and scientific occupations. T hus, it is not to be expected that the p o litica l alienation attendant on career

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blockage w ould be m anifested equally among all the educated b u t w ould be most especially exhibited by those in occupations either m arginal to the grow th o f the ind u stria l private sector or excluded from the expand­ in g state bureaucracies. T h e a b ility o f intellectuals, as d istin ct from th e ir w illingness, to play a decisive role in the German revolution o f 1848 derived from several factors. One o f the most im portant o f these was the developm ent of new mass media, the newspapers, and the corresponding developm ent o f a new 'p ro fe ssio n /' journalism . T h e developm ent o f newspapers and jo u r­ nalism provided intellectuals w ith a m edium fo r dissem inating their views, fo r m o b ilizin g publics that they could lead, and for exerting pressure upon p o litica l authority, as w ell as w ith occupational outlets consistent w ith th e ir inte lle ctu a l aspirations. A cq u irin g newspapers re­ quired relatively little capital and entering journalism needed no long specialized preparation. O ften enough, and especially in Germany, jo u r­ nalism was an occupation w hich was w id e ly claim ed to be the last refuge o f those who had failed in other middle-class or professional careers.52 Journalism provided not o n ly a possible source o f income, however, b u t also a high degree o f v is ib ility and thus prepared w riters and editors fo r p o litica l leadership. W h ile this use o f journalism as a springboard for p o litica l careers was m uch more institu tio na lized in France, where young men who sought p o litica l futures m ig h t often begin as w riters and editors, the access o f intellectuals to the newspapers, and the newspapers' corresponding need fo r w riters, meant that even in the Germanies in te l­ lectuals had more access to publics than they w ould otherwise have had. T h e appearance o f the intelligentsia on the revolutionary stage in 1848, then, was in part based on the p rio r developm ent o f newspapers w hich intellectuals could use to reach mass audiences, and w hich could be launched w ith relatively modest investments. T hus M a rx and Engels very largely started the Neue Rheinische Zeitung in Cologne w ith their own out-of-pocket monies. In the lig h t o f contem porary discussion o f the adversary im pulse o f journalism , it is notew orthy that m uch the same com plaints were voiced about this even in these earlier periods. O 'Boyle thus remarks that "the press was almost the sole instrum ent fo r the intellectuals in opposition d u rin g the R estoration"53 in post-revolutionary France. In like vein, "the T o ry Q uarterly Review described the 1848 revolution as arising from 'the accidental audacity o f a dozen obscure agitators, the spawn o f two p rin tin g offices . . .' and . . . Lam artine nor anyone else seemed to have thought it odd that a h a n d fu l o f journalists should dethrone a kin g and themselves decide on a new form o f governm ent."54 As for Germany,

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M e tte rn ich him self remarked in 1819 that “ A ll the German G overn­ ments have arrived at the conviction that . . . the press serves a party antagonistic to all existing governm ents.” 55 A lth o u g h any view o f the revolution o f 1848 as the “ revolution o f the intellectuals” is exaggerated, especially i f it obscures the local in itia tiv e o f merchants and industrialists, the influence achieved by intellectuals at the national level in G erm any was im portant and this was p a rtly grounded in the p rio r developm ent o f newspapers and in intellectuals' access to them , either through c o n trib u tin g to them as journalists or through modest ownership investm ents. Intellectuals' leadership roles in the German revolution (as in others) was most im portant at the parliam entary and other national levels o f p o litica l action. I f the leadership cadres o f the German revolution are studied o n ly through the occupational backgrounds o f the F ra n k fu rt Parliam ent, the role o f intellectuals tends to be overestimated w h ile that o f businessmen is underestim ated. T h e latter, w h ile unable to leave th e ir business fo r any length o f tim e to pursue p o litica l leadership, could more readily participate in local governm ent in th e ir own towns, where they could play leading roles. There were, therefore, “ im portant discrepancies between national and local leadership groups.” 56 Nonetheless, sustained participation in national parliam ents and in the leadership o f national p o litica l parties d id require businessmen to absent themselves from th e ir businesses. T h is could be hazardous to new enterprises, and m ig h t thus deter businessmen, merchants, shopkeepers, and tradesmen from seeking the national leadership o f p o litica l movements. T h is same im pedim ent, however, d id not apply equally to the educated elite. In Germ any, “ state employees could apply fo r leave to participate in parliam entary life , lawyers could seek to com bine a practice w ith p o litica l a ctivity, and journalists could try to make a liv in g w ritin g about the events in w hich they took part,” 57 a llo w in g them influence on national politics far in excess o f th e ir economic power and w ealth. T h u s the very kin d o f occu­ pations in w hich the educated elite were involved often gave them a motive for dissident participation, w h ile a llow ing them more tim e in w hich they could achieve leadership v is ib ility and effectiveness w ith national publics. C oupled w ith th e ir access to the new media and w ith th e ir longstanding prestige in Germ any, this made the educated elite there form idable com petitors fo r national p o litica l leadership. T h e 1848 revolutions throughout Europe and especially G erm any were the decisive p o litica l environm ent w ith in w hich M arxism was crys­ tallized as a social movement. These revolutions were characterized by a confluence o f collective unrest in two c ritic a l social strata, artisans and intellectuals, respectively the fig h tin g m ilita n ts and national leaders o f

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the revolution. O ften enough, however, artisans saw the educated as class enemies and as hired ideologues fo r the free trade movement that, together w ith the factory system, was ru in in g them. “ H andicraftsm en regarded higher education w ith the same suspicion w hich they fe lt to­ ward great w e a lth ,"58 reports Theodore Ham erow. It was just this w ide­ spread tra d itio n of suspicion o f the educated that M a rx and Engels en­ countered from sections o f the League o f the Just, and indeed, from th e ir own C om m unist League, as w e ll as later in the International W o rkin g men s Association. Nonetheless, intellectuals' own critica l traditions and im paired m arket situation led some o f them to become radicalized and to seek alliance w ith artisans and th e ir organizations. Both artisans and intellectuals had in part been brought to oppose the status quo by a sim ilar increase in th e ir numbers and by the consequent threat to status and career. T h e sim ilarities between artisans and in te l­ lectuals, however, w ent w e ll beyond this common im pairm ent o f th e ir m arket situation. T h e two occupations were alike in other ways that made both resentful o f threats to th e ir tra d ition a l status. T h e y were alike in having im portant traditions o f craftsm anship, even if, in the one case, m anual and, in the other, inte lle ctu a l. T h e y were alike, too, in th e ir common desire to produce objects or services o f high q uality, and not ju st those that w ould sell on the m arket. N e ith e r worked sim ply to procure livelihoods. W h e n W illia m Sewall, Jr., describes the artisan ethos, he is in effect also describing that o f u n ive rsity academicians: “ a consistent m oral col­ lectivism , an assertion o f th e ir own capacity to preserve order and pursue the common good, an insistence on the d istin ct value and id e n tity o f the various trades, and a pride in th e ir w ork as a co n tribu tio n to the p u b lic w elfare." T h e mechanical and m anual trades were also often viewed as “ arts" re q u irin g discipline and intelligence, not just physical labor or dexterity and were thus not radically sp lit from the “ m ental" labor o f intellectuals and professionals. Indeed, the term “ arts" spread from poetry or architecture to the m ilita ry and governm ent arts, again serving to bridge both m ental and m anual labor and to note th e ir com­ mon subordination to a system o f disciplined production according to rules. There was, then, an emphasis on certain continuities between artisan and artist, and certain trades and arts. In France, the “ liberal arts" were also long organized in a m anner sim ilar to the corporatively organized gens de metier and the mechanical arts. As Sewall w rites, T h e universities, the legal and medical professions and the royal officers all had organizations ju rid ic a lly sim ilar to the corp (Karts et m etiers— w ith their privileges, their internal regulations and their recognized

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standing in the state. In the M iddle Ages, the similarities between u n i­ versities and trade corporations were clearly signaled in language: not only were both headed by “masters," but apprentices in the manual arts were frequently called escolons and journeymen, bacheliers. And as late as the sixteenth century, a royal decree banning disorderly banquets could include in a single sentence “all banquets whether for doctorates or other degrees in any faculty, or for masterships of sciences, arts and trades."59 Artisans and intellectuals alike had conceptions o f themselves as pos­ sessing skills that required long and specialized tra in in g . T h e ir skills were a center o f th e ir selfhood on w hich they based claims to personal worthiness and com m unity honor. Artisans and educated elites were alike, too, in th e ir membership in ancient and honorable in stitu tio n s that m onitored th e ir w ork and protected th e ir careers—the guilds and universities. Both these pre-modern in stitu tio n s upheld traditions that d id not endorse a m erely com petitive egoism or possessive in d ivid u a lism b u t encouraged a measure o f responsibility to the larger com m unity and a concern fo r the latter s needs. By reason o f th e ir collectivity-responsive­ ness and th e ir skill com m itm ents, both artisans and intellectuals made claims to independence in the conduct o f th e ir w ork and in the manage­ m ent o f th e ir corporate groups and these expectations, when violated, w ould fu rth e r alienate both groups. Artisans and intellectuals, then, were alike in significant ways. T h e y were both threatened elites d u rin g the pre-revolutionary era when M a rx ­ ism was form ed. Both fe lt an alienation from the grow ing in d u stria l capitalism . F ritz R inger remarks that higher officials, secondary school teachers, judges, lawyers, doctors, and university professors were an elite o f the cultivated w ho “ had no more in common w ith the new commer­ cial and ind u stria l class than they had w ith the Junkers.” 60 M u ch the same could, however, also be said o f the many journeym en w ho despised the new factories and factory owners, as w ell as the merchants w ho sold th e ir cheaper goods to the ru in o f the artisans. T h a t many artisans and intellectuals were com m only disaffected was due in large part because th e ir occupations were then more sim ilar than they subsequently be­ came. Even th e ir tra in in g was then more alike, as certain o f the learned professions s till trained new recruits by apprenticeships not m uch d if­ ferent than those used to train artisans. T h e revolutionary m ilita n cy that M a rx had predicted fo r the pro­ letariat waned in W estern Europe precisely w ith the decline o f the a rti­ sans, as the factory system spread, fo r it was the artisans w ho had been the most m ilita n t w in g o f the w orkin g class. I f intellectuals, or sections o f intellectuals among the hum anistically trained, continued to evidence

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discontent w ith the status quo this was in part because th e ir m arket and social position was increasingly threatened in the technological and scien­ tific w orld o f advanced in d u stria l capitalism . H um anistic intellectuals continued to be alienated, in short, fo r m uch the same reasons that a rti­ sans in the first h a lf o f the nineteenth century were, for the intellectuals were in part artisans protecting th e ir elite positions from threatening encroachments. Intellectuals, especially hum anistic intellectuals and aca­ demicians, are the last o f the artisans; th e ir disaffection remains grounded in m uch the same social forces that led the more horny-handed artisans to th e ir earlier rebellion.

T h e E xclu sio n a ry P o litics o f A rtis a n O rga n iza tio n s One w ay artisans sought to cushion themselves from the costs o f the rising factory system and to express th e ir resistance to the new indus­ trialism was to develop new organizations, among them the p ro life ra tin g “ secret” societies. T h ro u g h these they sought to develop instrum ents fo r pursuing th e ir struggle against the threatening new order. Yet these very organization instrum ents became new arenas o f contest, for the artisans soon had to struggle to retain th e ir dom inance in these organizations and to prevent them from being captured by other “ alien” strata. T h e new organizations, then, in e vita b ly came to express th e ir founders’ in te r­ ests in securing control over these organizations by excluding other strata from power in them. As the working-class movement m atured organiza­ tio n a lly, there developed a larger sphere o f com petition for leadership, fo r control over organization policy, fo r offices, delegates, editorships, ex­ penses and other perquisites. By the tim e M a rx encountered the League o f the Just, it and other organizations had already experienced open tensions between hum anistic intellectuals and “ workers” and the latte r had already exhibited a clearcut exclusionary (o r “ ou vrie rist” ) policy. H a l Draper notes that, fo r ex­ ample, in 1847, even after W e itlin g had been drum m ed out o f the League, M a rx and Engels, as “ tw o bourgeois-educated newcomers of high er inte lle ctu a l attainm ent . . . were vulnerable to Straubinger p re j­ udices [i.e., artisan prejudices w ith in the C om m unist League itse lf] . . . one o f the members, F riedrich Lessner . . . recalled that 'the opponents o f M a rx raised the cry o f “ down w ith the 'in te lle ctu a ls/ ” ’ not only at the first congress b u t . . . even at the second congress of Novem berDecember where M a rx and Engels were assigned to w rite the M a n i­ festo.” 61 T h e C om m unist M anifesto its e lf was thus bom in an organiza­ tional environm ent in w hich its authors were defined by some artisans as class aliens w ho ought to be excluded from th e ir ranks. Some three years

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later in 1850, M a rx com plained o f a n ti-in te llectu al revolutionaries in the movement w ho “ look w ith deepest disdain on a more theoretical c la rifi­ cation o f the workers as to th e ir interests. Hence th e ir irrita tio n —w h ich is not proletarian b u t plebeian—at the habits noirs [frock coats] o f the more or less educated pe o ple /'62 A gain in 1866, at the first congress o f the In tern a tio n a l W orkingm en's Association ( I.W .A .) , later know n as the F irst Intern a tio n a l in Geneva, the French com m unist and engraver H e n ri Louis T o la in demanded that o n ly m anual workers be perm itted to be congress delegates. R ecognizing that such exclusionary sentiments were w id e ly held in the In tern a tio n a l W orkingm en's Association, M a rx kept a low profile, confined him self to in flu e n cin g its general council, and thought it better not to serve as a delegate to its first congress. T h e artisans' im pulse to exclude intellectuals was strong and was found even in organizations in w h ich M a rx had played a role as a p rin cip a l ( I.W .A .) or as founder (th e C om m unist League). T h e tra d ition o f co n tro llin g e n try to th e ir ranks was pa rticu ­ la rly strong among skilled artisans w ith g u ild traditions and was easily transferable by them to th e ir new organizations. C learly, then, social closure and group protection through exclusionary provision is a tactic not o n ly o f an e lite or upper class b u t is used also by subordinated groups. As Frank P arkin w rites, “ By social closure [M a x ] W eber means the process by w h ich social collectivities seek to m axim ize rewards by restricting access to resources and opportunities to a lim ite d circle o f eligibles . . . [b y] sin g lin g out certain social or physical at­ tributes as the ju stifica to ry basis o f e xclu sio n /'63 W h ile W eber often stressed the restriction o f economic opportunities, there can, as here, also be 'political perquisites, such as the rig h t to have power, hold office, or even to vote, w hether as an official o f an organiza­ tion or editor o f its press. Intellectuals were stigm atized p a rtly by asso­ ciatin g them w ith capital, p a rtly w ith th e ir more privileged education, and even as we have noted, in consequence o f th e ir dress; a cu ltu ra l lin e was drawn (as in the League o f the Ju st) between intellectuals and “ tru e " workers. A cu ltu ra l “ inside" was thus created to w h ich true w ork­ ers were adm itted—and here the criterion seems often to have been man­ ual w ork—and an “ outside," to w h ich artisans sought to relegate in te l­ lectuals doing m erely “ m ental" w ork. W h ile any dichotom y between m anual and m ental w ork is very d iffic u lt to defend in any radical way, fo r everyone moves his hands and uses his brain w h ile w orking, the dis­ tin ctio n was nonetheless useful ideologically in the course o f the strug­ gle to exclude intellectuals from m ovement organizations. O u r p o in t, however, is not to deny the differences in economic fu n c­ tion and culture between intellectuals and other workers, but, rather, to

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hold that a radical emphasis on such differences was more o f a p o litica l tactic o f convenience, than sim ply a theoretical achievement. It was use­ fu l as a way o f ju s tify in g intellectuals' exclusion from the movement and its organizations. I f workers were c u ltu ra lly m arginal to bourgeois society they, in tu rn , had begun defensively to create a social and organizational space from w hich the bourgeoisie—w hether o f money or the diplom a, as T o la in called intellectuals—were to be excluded. As Parkin notes, “ it is in any case hardly possible to consider the effectiveness o f exclusion practices w ith o u t due reference to the countervailing actions o f socially defined ine ligib les.” 64 One question this suggests fo r us is w hat were the coun­ te rva ilin g tactics o f those w ho were defined as ineligibles—intellectuals in general and M a rx in particular. I shall argue that part of the history o f M arxism can be understood not sim ply as the product o f intellectuals-in-general but as the histo rica lly specific response o f radicalized in ­ tellectuals in a special sociological b in d : caught in the m iddle between th e ir interest in workers' movements, and th e ir “ alien" social character­ istics w h ich made them vulnerable to workers' exclusionary tactics—i.e., to “ ouvrierism ." T h e theoretical character o f M arxism was, it w ill be held, in part influenced by the social character o f those fo rm u la tin g it, by the fact that they were intellectuals, but, m uch more specifically, by the defensive 'position in to w hich intellectuals are always thrust when defined as “ outsiders" by the very working-class movement to w hich they are com m itted. ( In some way, this dissonance—the prom inent presence o f middle-class intellectuals in a working-class m ovement—must be m uted or camouflaged. I shall later argue that this is one o f the functions o f the L e n in ist “ vanguard" p a rty .) There are, however, several ways in w hich this thesis needs to be q u a li­ fied ca re fu lly: First, an exclusionary or ouvrierist policy is not always successfully imposed; it may not, once-for-all, stigm atize intellectuals as “ outsiders." There may instead be a continual, see-sawing contest, visible I believe in the history o f M arxism , d u rin g w hich artisans seek to exclude inte lle c­ tuals w h ile the latter resist vigorously, using all m anner o f tactics. T h e most fundam entally exclusionary workers' organizations are trade unions, fo r these exclude those o f d iffe re n t occupations and em ploym ent, thus keeping intellectuals on the outside. Intellectuals, therefore, may be ex­ pected not only to reject th e ir exclusion in general but, most particularly, to oppose any exclusion based on social characteristics such as type or place o f em ploym ent or even style o f life . Intellectuals w ill prefer exclusionary policies that are based either on a lack o f ideological qualifications—i.e., a deficiency o f beliefs deemed

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appropriate—or on a paucity o f organizational zeal or loyalty, as exhibited by the way persons perform organizational tasks or accept organizational discipline. Ideological p ropriety and organizational com m itm ent rather than occupational a ctivity, then, w ill be the lines around w hich in te lle c­ tuals shape exclusionary policies. Such policies make admission to the organization dependent on things intellectuals can do, rather than on th e ir fa m ily or class antecedents, so­ cial origins, education, income, occupation, or em ploym ent. T h e exclu­ sionary (o r m em bership) criteria intellectuals prefer are therefore not those that, in p rin cip le , exclude persons by reason o f th e ir past privileges or even because o f th e ir ongoing middle-class style o f life . T h e group or “ m aterial” interests o f intellectuals, then, shape th e ir selection o f (and reaction to ) exclusionary principles. W h a t organizations are, the kinds o f organization they are, is in part definable in terms o f the kinds o f exclusionary principles they em ploy.65 C haracteristically, trade unions, like guilds before them , seek to control admission to occupations and w ork places and hence lim it m em bership to those already in these occupations or w ork places. P o litica l parties, con­ cerned w ith power in the state, w ill norm ally adm it those whose ideo­ logical conform ity or organizational loya lty fu rth e r th e ir struggle fo r state power, excluding o n ly those lacking in these. T h e interests o f in te lle c­ tuals, then, dispose them to assign greater im portance to more purely ;p olitical organizations than trade unions. Intellectuals, then, are struc­ tu ra lly m otivated to induce workers to oppose working-class “ econom isin'' and to encourage “ p o litics.” Indeed, this was one basis o f Lenin's opposi­ tion to trade union “ economism,” and o f his proposal fo r a p o litica l party o f professional revolutionaries, m em bership in w hich was determ ined en­ tire ly by ideological qualifications and organizational com m itm ent. For these are things that intellectuals could learn rather more easily than could uneducated workers constrained to routine jobs. M arxism , then, w ill in part be understood here as a product o f in te l­ lectuals vulnerable to exclusionary discrim ination by workers. In that re­ spect, it is im portant to insist that the exclusionary tactics o f the League o f the Just were not the policies o f proletarians “ bom and bred” b u t o f artisans. W e itlin g and other leaders o f the League o f the Just, w hether o f the Swiss or the London faction, were p rim a rily artisans. T h e tens o f thousands o f Germans liv in g in Paris in the mid-1840s from w hom the League m ig h t have recruited, were “ divided in to tw o sections having v irtu a lly no contact w ith one another. O ne consisted o f w riters and the other o f artisans. Some trades were almost exclusively in the hands o f Germans. In fact, in Paris ‘G erm an' and cobbler' had almost become synonymous,” 66 fo r m any German cobblers had m igrated because o f the

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high unem ploym ent in th e ir hom eland. T h e anti-intellectual exclusionism o f the League o f the Just grew out o f that cleavage among the G er­ man expatriates and the com petition between intellectuals and artisans, as this came in to focus in th e ir em erging organizations. As m entioned, W e itlin g him self was a tailor. Am ong the League’s leadership in Lo n ­ don, Joseph M o ll was a watchm aker, H e in rich Bauer, a bootmaker, w h ile W ilh e lm Schapper had been a form er student o f forestry and a com­ positor.67 I f any social stratum could then compete effectively w ith intellectuals’ grow ing e ffo rt to influence the European w orking class, it was neither the new bourgeoisie itse lf, nor new ly urbanized workers in factories shorn o f skills by the new m achinery, disorganized by fa m ily separation and urban isolation, and pacified by relatively good wages. T h e natural and indeed most effective com petitors o f the intellectuals for influence w ith the w orkin g class were artisans; the a n ti-intellectual exclusionary policies in working-class organizations were thus largely theirs. M a rx ’s outrage at this is suggested by his use o f the terms Straubinger and Knoten (w h ic h o rig in a lly m eant artisans) to mean louts, boors, or ignorant bum pkins—to heap contem pt on his artisan competitors. In a letter o f A p ril 16, 1865, to Engels, fo r example, M a rx wrote that “ the German Knote Scherzer (o ld boy) came forw ard and in tru ly aw ful Straubinger style, denounced the German ‘men o f learning,’ the ‘in te l­ lectual workers’ who had le ft them (th e K no te n ) in the lurch. . . .” 68 A gain, in a revealing letter o f M ay 18, 1859, w hich p la in ly h ig h lig h ts M a rx ’s dilem m a as a middle-class inte lle ctu a l in a workers’ movement, M a rx h im se lf described his tension w ith the artisans as a result o f their contest to control the nom ination o f Party representatives: “ Messrs, the Knoten have . . . had a very nice lesson. T h a t o ld -W e itlin g ass Scherzer thought he could nom inate Party representatives. W hen I met a deputa­ tion o f the Knoten . . . I told them straight out: W e had received our appointm ent as representatives o f the proletarian party from nobody but ourselves. It was, however, endorsed by the exclusive and universal hatred consecrated to us by all the parties and fractions of the old w orld. You can im agine how staggered the blockheads were. . . .” 69 T h e p o in t o f n o tin g that one group o f M a rx ’s and Engels’s key com­ petitors was artisans is, o f course, not to ju s tify M a rx ’s subsequent attack on W e itlin g and, more generally, on the “ K noten." O u r object is to un­ derstand the sociological m eaning o f that attack and o f the feelings M a rx and Engels developed toward them and, more generally, toward “ petty bourgeoisie.” T h e exceptional bitterness o f these feelings w ill be surpris­ in g only if one considers the petty bourgeoisie’s powerlessness in society at large. M a rx ’s critiq u e o f W e itlin g , o f artisans, and o f the petty bour-

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geoisie generally, however, was influenced n o t by the last named’s power in society but in the very organizations where they were com petitors con­ tending fo r influence. For com petition is keenest not among those most d iffe re n t, or whose social character, skills, or functions d iffe r most, but, rather, among those w ho are most sim ilar. As suggested earlier, in te lle c­ tuals were then m uch more nearly lik e “ petty-bourgeois” artisans than they were like factory proletarians. Perhaps the fin a l iro n ic tw ist in M a rx ’s relationship to artisans relates to Freddy D em uth, M a rx ’s ille g itim a te son w ith his housekeeper H elen D em uth, w hom he had barred from his home as an in fa n t. Freddy, son o f the great Knoten despiser him self, became an artisan: “ T h e son o f K arl M a rx was a skilled workm an w ho served the standard six-year ap­ prenticeship and was su fficiently p ro ficie n t at his job to be adm itted in to the highest section o f the un io n . . . . ‘H e was a damn good turner, w orking on a lathe.’ ” 70 In understanding M arxism as in part intellectuals’ response to artisan sponsored “ ouvrierism ,” it remains to be added that M a rx and Engels were not com peting o n ly w ith artisans b u t also w ith other intellectuals. M arxism p a rtly developed, then, as a “ fig h t on tw o fronts” against the exclusionary tactics o f artisans, and against other intellectuals toward w hom M arx, in tu rn , behaved in exclusionary ways. W hen oriented to­ ward the exclusionary efforts o f artisans, M a rx and Engels denounced the “ p h ilis tin is m ” o f the Knoten; when oriented toward the com petition o f other intellectuals, they w ould express contem pt fo r them as “ servile pedants” w ho were in te lle ctu a lly incom petent to boot. M a rx ’s and Engels’s own exclusionary tactics against com peting in te l­ lectuals were advanced in the name o f the “ self-em ancipation o f the pro­ leta ria t.” T h e F irst In te rn a tio n a l’s ( I.W .A .) com ponent groups were thus to consist o f w orkin g m en’s societies; “ sections exclusively or p rin ­ cip a lly composed o f members not belonging to the w orkin g class” were not to be adm itted.” 71 In a lette r to Engels o f December io , 1864, M a rx discusses how, in order to exclude Louis Blanc from the I.W .A ., he had elim inated the category o f “ honorary member” o f the F irst In te rn a tio n a l: “ . . . surm is­ in g that an attem pt o f this sort w ould be made, I had already p u t through the by-law . . . that no persons should be an honorary member.” (L e n in was in 1903 to take a sim ilar stand in his debate w ith M artov, to lim it the membership o f intellectuals in the new Russian Social Dem ocratic Federation to roles in w hich they w ould be subject to organization dis­ c ip lin e .) Intellectuals w ho later sought to a lly themselves w ith the workers’ movement, and whose num bers increased in G erm any after the anti-

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socialist laws were repealed there in 1890, often had impressive creden­ tials as academicians and m ig h t be form idable competitors. I t is often forgotten, fo r example, that Eugen D iih rin g , the target o f Engels’s A n tiD iih rin g , was not anti-socialist b u t pro-social democratic. D iih rin g was a w ell-know n “ academic [w h o ] aspired to become the leading theoretician both o f socialism and anti-S em itism .” 72 T h e significant p o in t here, o f course, is that D iih rin g was launched upon a com petition w ith M a rx and Engels fo r socialist leadership in the la tte r’s Germ an stronghold, a challenge to w hich they had to respond. In like m anner and fo r sim ilar reasons, M a rx took up the cudgels in 1880 against the German economist A dolph W agner, using the occasion to denounce “ professors w ho s till stand w ith one foot in the old crap. . . . From being serfs o f the landowners they have changed over to being serfs o f the state. . . .” 73 M a rx and Engels’s “ w ar on tw o fro n ts,” then, was not sim ply a cere­ bral e ffo rt to fin d an ethereal golden mean. I t was an earthy p o litica l re­ sponse stim ulated by the com petitive challenge to th e ir leadership repre­ sented by both groups. I t was in substantial part a struggle fo r power and influence, and thus fo r control over party offices and editorships. In a le tte r to Becker o f September 15, 1879, Engels com plained that the party reformers w ho were then com plaining about the party’s “ ouvrierism ” actually “ lay claim to the leadership o f the movement fo r educated’ bour­ geois o f th e ir own stam p.” T h e party reform group to w h ich Engels had been responding was the H ochberg M ovem ent, w hich clearly ex­ h ib ite d the leadership challenge that came from other intellectuals—a com petition to w h ich Engels, n o t being a H e rr D oktor, was especially vulnerable. T h e essential p o in t, however, is that the in flu x o f new in te l­ lectuals in to the socialist m ovement was resisted doubtless in part fo r ideological reasons, as M a rx often insisted (because they brought w ith them reform ist views, w h ich doubtless they often d id ), b u t additionally, because they were p o litica l com petitors fo r organizational resources. In this vein, Engels w rote M a rx ’s son-in-law Paul Lafargue on August 27, 1890, expressly com plaining that “ . . . fo r the past two or three years a crowd o f students, litterateurs and other young declassed bour­ geois has rushed in to the party, a rrivin g just in tim e to occupy most o f the editorial positions on the new journals . . . they regard the bour­ geois u n ive rsity as a socialist S aint-C yr w hich gives them the rig h t to enter the p a rty’s ranks w ith an officer’s commission i f not a general’s.” 74 A contest was being fo u g h t over w ho was to lead, and the polem ic’s cu t­ tin g edge was then directed against com peting intellectuals. In that same year, Engels wrote an open le tte r to the rebellious Jungen, dissociating him self from them . “ L e t them understand that th e ir ‘academic educa­ tio n ,’ ” wrote Engels, “ gives them no officer’s commission w ith a claim

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to a corresponding post in the party . . . that posts o f responsibility in the party w ill be won not sim ply by lite ra ry talent and theoretical kn o w l­ edge, even i f both o f these are present beyond a doubt, b u t that in addition w hat is required is thorough fa m ilia rity w ith the conditions o f party struggle and seasoning in its forms, tested personal re lia b ility and sound character, and fin a lly , w illin g enlistm ent in the ranks o f the fighters. . . .” 75

Episode N o . 2: T h e R e v o lu tio n o f 1848 and the C o m m u n is t League T h e fortunes o f the new C om m unist League were subsequently shaped by the accelerating developm ent o f the revolution o f 1848, especially in Germ any. T o anticipate: the revolution often intensified the cleavages between m ilita n t artisans or workers, on the one side, and intellectuals, on the other, w h ile also sometimes in te n sifyin g rivalries among radical­ ized intellectuals themselves. It w ould be o versim plifying to suggest that there were o n ly tw o policies, and these always at odds w ith one another. In the cockpit o f revolution, alignm ents swerved s w iftly and alliances were as im portant as rivalries. Nonetheless, there were at least tw o ten­ dencies: M a rx (and other radical in te lle ctu a ls) were exposed to tw o great forces, the increasingly radical m iddle classes and the increasingly radi­ calized artisans and workers. As the 1848 revolution surfaced, M a rx and Engels sought to w eld these d iffe re n t forces in to a single coalition. T h e m ajor problem this p o l­ icy faced, however, was the danger that the artisans/w orkers' increasing radicalization m ight frig h te n the m iddle classes, as indeed m ig h t the C om m unist League itself. M arx, then, was caught between the urgent need to m obilize the m iddle classes and thus to placate th e ir fear o f lower-class radicalism , w h ile at the same tim e to give expression to the grow ing m ilita n cy o f the w orkin g classes. I t was a precarious situ a tio n: too m uch concern about the fears o f the m iddle classes w ould cost M arx, and other radical intellectuals, influence among workers and artisans; too m uch concern about the w o rkin g classes' special needs, however, could lead the respectable m iddle classes to bolt the new coalition. M arx's strategy was to seek a m ulticlass coalition that was at first es­ sentially under the hegemony o f the m iddle classes. T h is included the workers as part o f the coalition's le ft w in g , and compensated the la tte r fo r restraining th e ir demands by d e fin in g this as o n ly the first stage in a revolution that w ould be follow ed by another in w hich workers' own special interests w ould then be prim ary. T h e revolution, then, came to be defined as a “ revolution in permanence," m oving from one stage, the

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middle-class revolution, to a second, the working-class revolution. M a rx ’s argum ent was that socialism required the ind u stria l foundation that w ould be created by the bourgeoisie. Yet i f the m iddle class caught w in d that th e ir revolution was to be o n ly a prelude to an increasingly radical re­ volt, they m ig h t p u ll away from the coalition. C orrespondingly, workers m ig h t not be in clin e d to sacrifice themselves to achieve a revolution whose first beneficiary was the m iddle class. T h e theory o f perm anent revolution, then, was a blurred doctrine whose am biguities were glossed. M a rx defined the em erging revolution as re q u irin g the mass involve­ m ent o f publics, the open shaping o f p u b lic opinion, participation in parliam entary politics, and the creation and operation o f new media that could m obilize masses. V ery soon, he no longer saw it as re q u irin g secret societies such as the C om m unist League. D u rin g the 1848 revolution, especially the “ mad year” in Cologne, m uch o f M a rx ’s tim e, energy, talent, money, and hope were invested in starting and e d itin g a p u b lic mass m edium , the Neue Rheinische Zeitung. La u nch in g a newspaper is som ething that workers and artisans are less lik e ly than intellectuals to define as a vita l p o litica l act. Artisans and workers were also less lik e ly to be com m itted to M a rx ’s long-term vision, his scenario o f a revolution whose first great victory w ould not be theirs, b u t the m iddle class’s. T h e virtues o f deferred gratification seemed more rational to middle-class intellectuals than to working-class m ilita n ts who knew acute deprivation. T h e y w ould resent'radical intellectuals w ho told them it was necessary to defer th e ir own victory and to temper displays o f m ilita n cy, sometimes seeing this not as prudence b u t as a callousness toward th e ir suffering to w hich those w ho did not share th e ir lives were prone. In short, m any o f the same tensions between M a rx and his com­ petitors, already exem plified by the W e itlin g incident, surfaced again in the 1848 revolution. T w o differences, however, are notable. First, that one of M a rx ’s m ain com petitors fo r working-class leadership is another inte lle ctu a l, specifi­ cally a member o f the technical intelligentsia, the physician Andreas G ottschalk. Second, the 1848 revolution makes it increasingly clear that the new organizational form s—first the C om m unist League and later the F irst In te rn a tio n a l—introduced a new level o f com plexity in w hich even the organization’s founders could no longer control events.

M a rx in C ologne T h e two leaders o f the C om m unist League in Cologne in 1847, A n ­ dreas G ottschalk and A ugust von W illic h , had s trikin g ly d iffe re n t back­ grounds.76 W illic h was the son o f an old Prussian m ilita ry fa m ily, a one-

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tim e captain o f a rtille ry, drum m ed out o f the arm y because o f his support fo r another radical officer. A fte r being discharged, W illic h became a w orkin g carpenter. Each m orning he w ould slow ly cross the Cologne parade grounds, w earing his carpenter's apron and carrying his tools, each proud step provocatively displaying his new status in life to the Gottschalk's origins were p ro fo u nd ly d iffe re n t from his comrade's. T h e son o f a Jewish butcher in D iisseldorf, G ottschalk became a physi­ cian after studying at Bonn w h ile M a rx was there. “ From the first he worked almost exclusively in the working-class quarters o f the c ity as healer, helper, and frie n d o f the poorest workers. T h e Cologne workers idolised th e ir warm-hearted doctor and frie n d . H e was th e ir undisputed leader."77 As the revolution emerged in Cologne, indeed ju st several days before M arx's arrival there, G ottschalk moved to expand the League's organiza­ tional base, ca llin g fo r a “ Dem ocratic Socialist U n io n " w h ich subse­ quently came to be called a W orkers' U n io n or Association. “ T h e suc­ cess o f the new organisation was astonishing," state N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen; o n ly two m onths later its membership was nearly eight thousand. In short, G ottschalk was the local leader whose p o litic a l and personal a u th o rity was undisputed among the workers u n til M arx's arrival. H a lf trade union and h a lf p o litica l party, the W orkers' U n io n soon won the enm ity o f the propertied class. I t was not long, however, before M a rx too was at odds w ith the W orkers' U n io n . “ . . . [I]n a very short tim e differences o f opinion concerning the policy o f the U n io n arose between G ottschalk and h im ," note N icolaievsky and M aenchenH elfe n because, they claim ed, “ G ottschalk's programme could not result in anything b u t p a rtin g the proletariat from the Dem ocratic move­ m ent. . . ."78 W h ic h is to say, G ottschalk resisted the lim ite d place in the p o litica l coalition to w hich M a rx had then consigned the proletariat. M a rx had also wanted the W orkers' U n io n to participate in the elec­ tions fo r the new F ra n k fu rt Assembly, the pan-German Parliam ent and one o f the first gains o f the em erging German revolution. Supported by the workers, G ottschalk, however, wanted these elections boycotted. In one rather slanted version, this was said to be because “ H e u tte rly re­ jected all and every compromise and w ould not hear o f even the most tem porary coalition w ith non-proletarian Dem ocratic groups."79 Engels later wrote that in contrast, th e ir own banner then “ could o n ly be the banner o f democracy . . . a democracy w hich emphasized its specifically proletarian character in details o n ly ,"80 fo r they wanted a broad party o f action rather than a sm all, d o ctrin a lly pure sect.

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F in d in g the workers' m ovement in Cologne critica l o f him , and seek­ in g in any event a broader-based movement, M a rx and his friends orga­ nized a m ulticlass Dem ocratic U n io n that took part in the elections. I f G ottschalk had been the workers' undisputed leader, “ M a rx had won a few supporters in Cologne, m a in ly among middle-class in te lle c­ tuals. . . ."81 H a vin g no control over the W orkers' U n io n , w hich could legitim ately claim to be the C om m unist League's local heir, and having invested his energies in the new democratic coalition, M a rx began to feel there was no longer any role fo r the C om m unist League and re­ solved to get rid o f it. “ In M arx's opinion the appearance o f the Neue Rheinische Zeitung d id away w ith the excuse even fo r the appearance o f the C om m unist League's existence. A secret organisation had become superfluous, and a ll that M a rx had to say . . . could be made p u b lic through the press."82 T h o u g h M arx's desire to shelve the League was opposed by Schapper and others in the artisan-based London group, he nonetheless dissolved it. S till re ta inin g his own W orkers' U n io n , G ottschalk concurred in this decision, although d iffe rin g from M a rx on other issues. Thus, fo r exam­ ple, G ottschalk's union collected money to aid the German p o litica l re fu ­ gees that W illic h had gathered at Besansgon, denouncing M a rx and his Dem ocratic U n io n fo r fa ilin g to help this w ork. G ottschalk also de­ nounced M arx's Neue Rheinische Z eitung—in a m anner rem iniscent o f W e itlin g 's earlier com plaint about M arx's control over the left's media— i.e., as bestowed on M a rx by the moneyed and rich. M a rx made the N eue Rheinische Zeitung the center o f his co a litio n ­ b u ild in g policy. In Engels's words, the newspaper was run as a “ sim ple dictatorship by M a rx ,"83 w hich the other editors accepted as a m atter o f course. Repeatedly, M arx's friends (n o t sim ply his enemies) describe h im as a “ d icta to r"—as had Paul A nnenkov in his account o f the W e itlin g in cid e n t—often in te n d in g this as a com plim ent. T h e ambivalence o f the Neue Rheinische Zeitung coalition p o licy is suggested by the fact that, on the one side, it spoke o f “ we Dem ocrats," yet, on the other, state N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen, M a rx “ . . . sided just as resolutely w ith the insurrectionary Paris workers in those days o f June."84 One way the Neue Rheinische Zeitung had sought to cement the shaky democratic coalition was to call fo r w ar against Russia. Indeed, it d id this from its very first issue, hoping the w ar w ould consolidate the alliance and com m it the m iddle class to more resolute action against the m ainstay o f European reaction, w h ile at the same tim e w in n in g conces­ sions fo r the m iddle class and democracy as the w ar required th e ir ef­ fo rt. Since the war against Russia was also seen as the essential means o f

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lib e ra tin g Poland, the Neue Rheinische Z eitung “ received very generous support from the Polish Democrats . . . [w ho] sent tw o thousand tha­ lers in th e ir name.” 85 G ottschalk was soon arrested and im prisoned fo r six m onths, allegedly fo r in c itin g to violence, and the leadership o f the W orkers' U n io n was then vacant. Both Schapper and M o ll (th e n w o rkin g w ith M a rx ) be­ came leaders o f the union, M o ll being elected tem porary president. M arx's influence over the workers in Cologne was thus extended. As the revolution developed in September, Schapper too was arrested and M o ll fled, only barely missing arrest. As barricades were being throw n up and workers' tempers flared, M a rx attem pted to defuse the situation and “ declared in the name o f the [R hineland D em ocratic] Congress th a t in no circumstances, least o f a ll at the present m om ent, d id they w ant a ris in g ."86 Exasperated at the loss o f th e ir leaders, the workers listened “ w ith gloom y looks." “ . . . M a rx declined to consent to a local rio t."87 W ith Schapper jaile d and M o ll a fu g itive , the W orkers' U n io n was once again leaderless, and this tim e offered the tem porary presidency to M a rx w ho “ o n ly after a good deal o f hesitation . . . agreed to accept the po sitio n ."88 As the German revolution began to be rolled back, M a rx came to be­ lieve that the bourgeoisie had failed in its d u ty to history and had w ith ­ draw n from the p u rsu it o f its own class interests. H e concluded that the choice then facing L e ft democrats was either to accept absolutism's suc­ cessful counter-revolution, or to make a social-republican revolution o f th e ir own. “ Social republican was the term he used, not socialist' or ‘proletarian.' . . . Social republicanism involved neither the abolition o f private ownership o f the means o f production nor the abolition o f class-conflicts. I t m eant capitalism s till. . . ."89 W h ile not pursuing a policy against the German bourgeoisie, the Neue Rheinische Zeitung nonetheless focused increasingly on tensions between them and the workers. Tow ard the end o f 1848, M a rx also increasingly fastened his hopes on a new revolution in France that w ould revive the flagging rev­ o lu tio n in Germany. H a vin g fin a lly been acquitted by the courts, G ottschalk returned from prison and resumed the presidency ( o f the W orkers' U n io n ) that M a rx had tem porarily held, and again exerted pressure on M arx's policies. In an open letter, he p a rticu la rly criticized an article by M a rx in the Neue Rheinische Zeitung o f January 21, 1849. M a rx had there diagnosed the p o litica l situation as a choice between either the old absolutism or a rep­ resentative p o litica l system under bourgeois hegemony. “ T h e struggle against the bourgeois system o f private property could not yet be."90 In

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M arx's own words, “ W e say to the workers and the petty-bourgeoisie: rather suffer in modem bourgeois society, w hich by the developm ent of in d u stry creates the m aterial means fo r the foundation of a new society w hich w ill free you all, than step backwards in to an obsolete form of society. . . .” 91 T o w hich G ottschalk replied, “ W h a t is the purpose of such a revolu­ tion? W h y should we, men o f the proletariat, spill our blood fo r this?” 92 H is objection was m uch the same as W e itlin g ’s had earlier been when, in his letter to Moses Hess o f M arch 31, 1846, he had complained that M a rx had insisted that, “ As for the realisation of Com m unism , there can be no talk o f it to begin w ith ; the bourgeoisie must first come to the helm .” 93 N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen astutely observe that G ottschalk’s b itte r query was identical to “ the question that W illic h and his supporters were to p u t a year later, it was the question that B akunin’s follow ers were to p u t in the seventies.” 94 T h e pattern was a recurrent one. G ottschalk’s open letter also follow ed the pattern in denouncing M a rx ’s position as one congenial to intellectuals who “ are not in earnest about the salvation o f the oppressed. T h e distress o f the workers, the hunger o f the poor have only a scientific, doctrinaire interest for them .” 95 Seeking proletarian revolution then and there, and dem anding that there be no cease-fire u n til the workers’ victory, G ottschalk rejected M a rx ’s policies fo r a dem ocratic coalition whose first aim was a non-socialist, socialrepublicanism . ( In another tim e and under d iffe re n t conditions, the in ­ transigent b u t beloved G ottschalk m ig h t have played Che Guevara, an­ other radicalized physician, to M a rx ’s Fidel C astro.) Soon the conflict between G ottschalk and M a rx sp lit the W orkers’ U n io n w hich fin a lly collapsed and disappeared. G ottschalk returned to his old life as frie n d and m edical helper to the workers, dying in the struggle against the chol­ era plague w hich had spread among them in the autum n o f 1849. H e had been the first doctor, and for long the only one, fig h tin g the plague in the workers’ slums. H e died a noble death, succum bing to the disease on September 8, 1849. “ M a n y hundreds of workers follow ed th e ir dead frie n d to his grave.” 96 As the revolution was thw arted, efforts were made to resuscitate the discarded C om m unist League. A t first M a rx and Engels resisted these, despite repeated entreaties, h o ld in g that a conspiratorial group such as the League was superfluous since freedom of speech and the press had emerged. T h is position, however, opened the possibility of th e ir becom­ in g isolated from the working-class movement and becoming submerged in bourgeois democracy. As, however, the Neue Rheinische Zeitung it ­ self became insolvent and term inal, M a rx rejoined the League, though

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exactly when is uncertain. A n d w hen the Neue Rheinische Zeitung fin a lly folded, “ the last issue . . . warned the workers against any sort o f risin g ,” 97 yet also called fo r working-class em ancipation. As the revolution w ound down and fig h tin g became lim ite d to spo­ radic rearguard actions, Germ an refugees and exiles once again streamed across Europe. T h e League’s central office was reconstituted in London headed by Schapper, Bauer, and others. W illic h was also elected to its central office, after Engels had served w ith h im in the m ilita ry campaign in the Baden Palatinate, where M o ll had died in action. W illic h , o f course, had been close to G ottschalk and his election to the League’s central office is often interpreted, not unreasonably, as an e ffo rt to pla­ cate the League’s le ft, b in d in g the wounds between the le ft artisan m ili­ tants w ho wanted insurrection now , and dem ocratic coalitionists and in ­ tellectuals like M arx, w ho held the process w ould have to be slower and pass through a bourgeois phase w h ich , however, w ould lay the necessary in d u stria l groundw ork fo r a proletarian socialism.

Perm anent R evolution as Compromise T h e central office’s first circular lette r o f M arch 1850 had therefore to satisfy both groups and paper over the tensions d iv id in g them . Perhaps neither side w ould have signed it if they disagreed w ith w hat the lette r actually said, b u t the lette r could not have said all that either faction w ould have wished, exactly as each wished it. I t was a compromise th a t was susceptible to m any d iffe rin g interpretations, as the long-standing controversy about it among “ M arxologists” am ply indicates. T h e M arch 1850 circula r letter, know n as the Address o f the C entral C om m ittee o f the C om m unist League, begins by reaffirm ing that the proletariat is “ the o n ly com pletely revolutionary class,” applauds the members o f the League fo r th e ir revolutionary leadership in 1848-49, and then gets down to its real business. T h is is a criticism o f those who “ believed that the tim e fo r secret societies had gone by and the p u b lic activities alone were sufficient.” (A lth o u g h he goes unnam ed here, among those pursuing just such a policy, clearly the foremost was M a rx .) I t is com plained that they allowed party organization and discipline to grow loose and dorm ant. In fact, M a rx had fe lt it superfluous, had discarded the League, and indeed resisted in itia l efforts to resuscitate it, re jo in in g the League only after the Neue Rheinische Zeitung had become insol­ vent. T h e letter com plained that this policy had le ft the proletariat “ u n ­ der the dom ination . . . o f the petty bourgeois-democrats.” A new revolution being im m in e n t, w rites the docum ent, “ . . . the workers’ party, therefore, m ust act in the most organized, most unani-

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mous, and most independent fashion possible . . . ,” all the more as it remembers the “ treacherous role w hich the German liberal bourgeois played in 1848 against the people. . . .” W h a t then shall the relation o f the communists ( “ the w orkers party” ) now be to the petty bourgeoisie? It marches w ith them against the old regime, b u t “ opposes them in every­ th in g whereby they seek to consolidate th e ir position in th e ir own interests.” T h e address to the central com m ittee then goes on to form ulate w hat is regarded as the classic statement o f the doctrine o f “ perm anent revo­ lu tio n .” T h e demands o f the petty bourgeoisie, it says, can in no wise suffice for the party of the proletariat. W hile the demo­ cratic petty bourgeois wish to bring the revolution to a conclusion as quickly as possible . . . it is our interest and our task to make the revo­ lution permanent, u n til all more or less possessing classes have been forced out of their position of dominance, u n til the proletariat has con­ quered state power, and the association of proletarians, not only in one country but in all the dominant countries of the world, has advanced so far that competition among the proletarians of these countries has ceased and that at least the decisive productive forces are concentrated in the hands of the proletarians. For us the issue cannot be the altera­ tion of private property but only its annihilation, not the smoothing over of class antagonisms but the abolition of classes, not the improvement of existing society but the foundation of a new one.98 T h a t, however, was the m axim um goal, the long-range prospect. In the m eanwhile, says the circula r letter, “ d u rin g the fu rth e r developm ent o f the revolution, the petty-bourgeois democracy w ill fo r a m om ent ob­ tain predom inating influence in G erm any.” T h is “ is not open to doubt,” although the letter does not say how long this “ m om ent” o f petty bour­ geois democracy may last. N ote that the theory o f perm anent revolution form ulated here ad­ dresses its e lf only to the specific conditions in G erm any at that tim e. It was not p u t forw ard as a general theory o f perm anent revolution that m ig h t apply to revolutions elsewhere, and certainly not to all countries. K n o w in g the economy and society to w hich the doctrine applied, the docum ent is thus not required to make a general statement about the so­ cial conditions under w hich the tactics o f the perm anent revolution may be applicable. It sim ply states they are applicable to Germany, then and there, and n o th in g more. I t therefore is not called upon to make a gen­ eral p o in t about the necessity fo r the p rio r developm ent of a m ature in ­ dustrial society before a socialist revolution can be successful. It thus omits any reference to that capping aspect o f “ scientific socialism.” N o th -

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in g about the economic requisites o f socialist revolution is m entioned anywhere in the circula r letter. T h e emphasis is upon restoring “ an independent, secret and p u b lic organization o f the workers’ party. . . Leading the armed proletariat, the workers’ party “ seeks to dictate to the petty bourgeoisie conditions” (fo r an alliance w ith the p ro le ta ria t) such that “ the rule o f the bour­ geois democrats w ill from the outset bear w ith in it the seeds o f th e ir dow n­ fa ll. . . .” In the course o f this developing revolution the workers m ust “ compel the democrats to act upon th e ir present terrorist phrases . . . [and] prevent the direct revolutionary excitem ent from being sup­ pressed. . . . Far from opposing so-called excesses—instances o f pop­ u la r revenge against hated in d iv id u a l or p u b lic buildings that are associ­ ated w ith hateful recollections—such instances m ust not only be tolerated b u t the leadership o f them taken in hand.” As part o f this, the workers m ust themselves be armed and organized as a proletarian guard under the discipline o f the central revolutionary councils. These, in tu rn , are to be centralized “ under a leadership established in the ch ie f seat o f the m ovem ent.” Indeed, workers m ust oppose petty-bourgeois efforts to decentralize the nation or to form a federated republic. T h e y must, rather, strive fo r “ a single and ind ivisib le German republic, but also w ith in the republic, fo r the most determ ined centralization o f power in the hands o f the state au­ th o rity. . . .” A gain, “ the confiscated feudal property [m ust] remain state property and be converted in to workers colonies. . . .” Above all, it m ust not “ be tolerated that a form o f property, nam ely com m unal property . . . should be perpetuated by a so-called free com m unal con­ stitu tio n . . . in G erm any it is the task o f the really revolutionary party to carry through the strictest centralization.” T h e revolution there w ill thus require a lengthy developm ent whose first act w ill coincide w ith the workers’ victory in France. “ T h e ir battle cry must be: T h e R evolution o f Permanence.” H a l D raper stresses that this circular lette r m ust be regarded as ex­ pressing M a rx ’s own authentic views, rather than having been foisted upon h im by the exigencies o f revolutionary politics and by the W illic h Schapper faction. T h is is more ambiguous than D raper imagines, fo r even views that one had norm ally repressed are also authentically “ one’s ow n.” N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen understandably suggest that the M arch le tte r’s policies diverged from M a rx ’s long-range position. In ­ deed, they call them an “ error” in to w hich M a rx presum ably fe ll p a rtly because o f the re volution’s collapse, p a rtly because o f the urgent need to reunite the le ft in the face o f its defeat, and in the expectation that an­ other revolutionary surge was im m inent. N icolaievsky and M aenchen-

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H elfe n believe that the le tte r’s stress on the revolutionary im portance of “ resolute, well-organised m en” was more nearly Blanquist than M a rxist in inspiration. A later, retrospective view m igh t also call it B akuninist, or even Gottschalkean. Noyes thus writes that R evolution in Perma­ nence had been a slogan “ urged upon M a rx in the course of 1848-1849 by G ottschalk and others in Cologne and since then by some followers o f B lanqui in Paris.” 99 Draper, however, denies fe rve n tly that the letter en­ tailed even a “ B lanquist aberration” on M a rx ’s part, asserting that it is to be understood sim ply as the m aturation o f his policy o f perm anent revo­ lu tio n w hich , like his earlier policies, allowed for a temporary alliance w ith bourgeois democrats. T h e o n ly reason, suggests Draper, that this letter is mistaken as B lanquist is because o f its “ uncom prom ising revolu­ tionary s p irit.” 100 Yet it is just that w hich is consistent w ith N icolaievsky and M aenchenH e lfe n ’s interpretation o f the M arch letter, fo r this letter differs from M a rx ’s cautious coalition policies in Cologne when, as Draper admits, M a rx m ig h t have at first preferred to go slow on questions o f class an­ tagonism. It is precisely the M arch le tte r’s “ uncom prom ising revolution­ ary s p irit,” then, that signals a s h ift from the Cologne days. T h e M arch letter d id represent M a rx ’s views in M arch, b u t his views had by then changed, as his acceptance o f the le tte r’s critiq u e o f the League’s earlier dissolution clearly im plies. F o llo w in g d istrib u tio n o f the M arch letter, the U niversal Society o f R evolutionary Com m unists was established w hich com bined B lanquist elements (w h ic h D raper adm its101) w ith those o f the League and le ft Chartists. T h is new group was a central com m ittee composed only o f organization leaders, rather than o f their members. I t m ilita n tly called on workers to “ make an end o f the p riv i­ leged classes, to subm it these classes to the dictatorship o f the proletariat by m a in tain ing a perm anent revolution u n til the realisation o f C om m u­ nism , w hich shall be the last form o f constitution o f the hum an fa m ily .” 102 T h is goal was to be achieved by an internationalism , “ between all sec­ tions o f the revolutionary com m unist party by breaking down the bar­ riers o f n a tio na lity. . . .” As the central office letter in M arch had held, “ it is our interest and our task to make the revolution perm anent . . . not only in one country b u t in a ll the dom inant countries o f the w orld. . . .” T h e revolutionary s p irit o f working-class autonomy and the idea o f “ perm anent re vo lu tio n ” are evident in both the M arch letter and in the U niversal Society’s program . T h e doctrine o f perm anent revolution, then, was a b rillia n t device for b rid g in g the le ft artisan m ilita n ts and the more cautious socialist inte lle c­ tuals who, envisaging a long and protracted struggle, wanted to avoid w hat they regarded as dangerous adventures. For on the one side, it re-

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assured the form er that socialism and com m unism had not been forgot­ ten and it reaffirm ed a com m itm ent to these in rousing rhetoric; w h ile , on the other, it satisfied M arxists because it s till inserted the idea o f a series o f stages through w hich the revolution must first go before ar­ riv in g at the “ last form o f constitution . . . in c lu d in g a p rio r stage d u rin g w hich the bourgeois-democrats w ould be dom inant. Each could thus read it as a concession to his own central concerns, and, fo r a w h ile , each d id . In other words, the doctrine o f perm anent revolution in the M arch letter does not (as D raper suggests) clearly evidence the co n tin u ity o f the u n iq u e ly M a rxist views. Rather, it points precisely to the specific strategic mechanism that enabled M a rx s evolutionary emphasis (on the need fo r p rio r fu lfillm e n t o f certain p re lim in a ry stages as the requisite o f socialism ) to be accommodated w ith the most m ilita n t proponents o f rev­ olution-now . Yet the bourgeois stage o f revolution insisted on was por­ trayed o n ly as a way-station on the road to the fin a l co n flict that was to culm inate in the dictatorship o f the proletariat. T h e theory o f perma­ nent revolution, then, was a shrewd piece o f le ft-w in g statesmanship, b rid g in g the m ilita n t and revolutionary wings, the artisans-workers and the intellectuals, by p ro vid in g a form ulation in w hich each could fin d reassurance. In m y own view , the M arch lette r d id indeed express M arx's ideas, b u t more in c ip ie n tly and less overtly, and d id not express them in th e ir typical manner. As early as T h e German Ideology, M a rx and Engels had insisted that alienation “ can, o f course, o n ly be abolished given tw o practical premises . . . it must necessarily have rendered the great mass o f h u m anity propertyless' and produced, at the same tim e, the contradic­ tion o f an existing w orld o f w ealth and culture, both o f w hich conditions presuppose a great increase in productive power, a hig h degree o f its de­ velopm ent." T h e y then go on to add that “ this developm ent o f produc­ tive forces . . . is absolutely necessary as a practical premise: first, fo r the reason that w ith o u t it, o n ly w ant is made general and w ith w ant the struggle fo r necessities and all the old filth y business w ould necessarily be reproduced."103 W h a t is unm istakably clear, here, is that as M a rx and Engels begin increasingly to operate w ith in the fram ew ork o f classical p o litica l economy, they also take over its premises, nam ely, that the key fact o f life is scarcity. I f this is so, then there is no p o in t in attem pting to b u ild an em ancipatory socialist society w ith o u t having first conquered scarcity, but this, in tu rn , was largely the historical mission o f the bour­ geoisie w ho constantly revolutionized p ro d u ctivity. As the Com m unist M anifesto remarks, “ the bourgeoisie cannot exist

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w ith o u t constantly re vo lu tio n izin g the instrum ents of production. . . . Constant re vo lu tio n izin g o f production . . . distinguishes the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones.” 104 T h e bourgeois mode of production then, when brought to its m a tu rity, greatly fostered p ro d u ctivity and laid the groundw ork fo r vanquishing scarcity; but the egoistic relations of pro­ duction w ith in w hich it operates produce fo r p ro fit, not for use or fo r the satisfaction o f need. Hence the revolution requires the m aturation of pro­ d u c tiv ity brought by the bourgeoisie and thus, for a w hile , requires the bourgeoisie. T h is is precisely the p o in t o f the remark in the Com m unist M anifesto, that “ T h e d istin g u ish in g feature of Com m unism is not the abolition o f property generally, but the abolition of bourgeois prop­ erty.” 105 In short, no bourgeoisie, no revolutionizing of produ ctivity; hence, no bourgeoisie, no socialist revolution. T hus the M anifesto char­ acterizes as “ utopian,” socialists w ho w rote before the development of the “ m aterial conditions fo r the em ancipation o f socialism.” In M a rx and Engels’s paradigm , then, it is a central idea that there were economic conditions, especially those m aking scarcity unnecessary or alleviating it substantially, for socialist revolution. It is a keystone o f M a rx’s scientific socialism that revolution, like a ll natural phenomena, has certain neces­ sary conditions, w hich it is the task o f science to learn and master. Yet in the M arch circular o f the C om m unist League, no m ention whatsoever is made o f this, in part because the letter is referring to the German revolution in particular, not to revolutions in general. T he le t­ ter’s form ulation m uted the question o f w hat the general conditions of socialist revolution were, and, indeed, focused d ire ctly not on the eco­ nom ic b u t on the p o litica l conditions requisite for the revolution— i.e., the m aintenance o f an independent organization and policy for the workers’ party. T h is p o litica l condition indeed comes down to a voluntaristic emphasis on “ w ill” —fo r w hich M a rx w ould later chastise B akunin, claim ing he ignored the economic conditions and acted as if only “ w ill” was necessary fo r socialist revolution. For this politica l condi­ tio n —the independence o f the workers’ party—was presum ably w ith in th e ir control, and depended o n ly on th e ir insig h t and determ ination. T he p o litica l requisites of the revolution then, need not be awaited, b u t were already available. B rin g in g them in to existence was indeed a m atter of “ w ill.” B ut w h ile the M arch lette r thus allows the revolution to start, the le t­ ter also insists that the workers must first support the bourgeoisie. W ith ­ out a doubt, it says, the hegemony o f the bourgeoisie must come first. T h is w ould be the start o f a perm anent revolution, d u rin g w hich the workers’ party w ould b u ild contradictions into the bourgeois democracy

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thus preventing its consolidation, and w ould in tim e come in to power in th e ir own rig h t. T h e idea o f perm anent revolution, then, constituted an adaptive re­ sponse to the cross-pressures situation in w hich M a rx found him self. It allowed h im to stress, on the one side, the im portance o f the p rio r hege­ m ony o f the bourgeoisie as necessary fo r the socialist revolution, yet w ith o u t asserting this in a generalized m anner as the universal requisite o f revolution—M a rx’s usual form u la tio n . Perm anent revolution, on the other side, allowed M a rx to define the bourgeois revolution as som ething w hich had to be supported, yet defined this support as o n ly expedient, tactical, and tem porary—hence more tolerable—and, better than that, as a phase allow ing apt occasions when the pressure o f the workers’ party could b u ild in to bourgeois democracy the contradictions that w ould undo it. N ote, however, that the contradictions referred to here are not the eco­ nom ic contradictions m entioned in C apital, or even in the Com m u­ nist M anifesto, b u t refer rather to p o litica lly inserted contradictions. These depend not on the b lin d laws o f the economy but on the valid strategic in sig h t o f the party. Perm anent revolution, then, was a doctrine w hich could placate m ilita n t artisans bent on im m ediate revolution, thus m a in tain ing M a rx’s id e n tity as a revolutionary, w h ile at the same tim e, em bodying—b u t o n ly im p lic itly , and hence non-provocatively—the unique conception o f M a rx’s scientific socialism, nam ely, that socialism required an overcom ing o f scarcity that necessitated a p rio r period o f bourgeois de­ velopm ent and indeed o f hegemony. I t is perhaps also evident from this how the theory o f perm anent revo­ lu tio n could deteriorate in to the straightforw ard, unembarrassed evolu­ tionism and revisionism , and more broadly, in to the Second In te rn a ­ tio n a l’s characteristic lip service to the revolution as it was practically com bined w ith accommodation to parliam entary reform . On September 15, 1850, M a rx found h im self arrayed against W illic h and Schapper, opposing th e ir position as a departure from the M arch letter. T h e abiding 'e rro r” o f M a rx ’s views, to w hich W e itlin g , G ottschalk, Schapper, and W illic h had a ll objected, remained im p lic it in the M arch letter, being embedded precisely in the stage-like developm ent re­ quired by the theory o f perm anent revolution. T h e y d id not object to its prospect o f international revolution, nam ely, that "th e developm ent o f the revolution in any one country was closely bound up w ith its develop­ m ent in all countries” ; th e ir objection, rather, was to the evolutionary part, nam ely, "th a t the revolution had quite de fin ite phases to go through and that the various classes m ust necessarily come in to power in a defi­ n ite order conditioned by economic facts.” 106 As Engels was to w rite ( in 1852) about the Germ an re volution:

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[O u r] party never imagined itself capable of producing, at any time and at its pleasure, that revolution w hich was to carry its ideas into prac­ tice. . . . T he practical revolutionary experience of 1848-49 confirmed the reasonings of theory, w hich led to the conclusion that the democracy

of the yetty traders must first have its turn, before the Communist work­ ing class could hope to perm anently establish itself in power and de­ stroy the system of wage-slavery w hich keeps it under the yoke of the bourgeoisie.107

W e itlin g , Schapper, W illic h , G ottschalk, and, later, B akunin, all in ­ terpreted this position as essentially ca llin g on the w orking class to sacri­ fice its e lf on behalf o f bourgeois interest and as defusing worker m ilitancy. One can o n ly im agine w hat they w ould have said had they known that M a rx ’s rich uncle, the D u tch banker L io n P hilips, communicated just such a cautious policy to M a rx, w ritin g him shortly after the founding o f the First Intern a tio n a l, “ . . . I believe that lasting improvements can now be achieved in a regular way, w ith o u t violent convulsions . . . slowly, b u t I believe surely, the good aim w ill be achieved.” H istory, P hilips rem inded M a rx, “ always marches w ith o u t haste. . . .” 108 In A p ril o f 1850, a m onth after the M arch circular letter, an article by M a rx reverted to his classic position on the economic requisites o f social­ ist revolution and condemned those revolutionary conspirators who sought revolution “ w ith o u t the conditions for revolution. For them [the conspir­ ators] the only condition required fo r revolution is a sufficient organiza­ tion o f th e ir own conspiracy. T h e y are the alchemists o f the revolu­ tions.” 109 W hereas M a rx, o f course, wanted to be its scientist. Three m onths later, in a letter o f July 1850, to P. G. Roser, M a rx insisted that “ C om m unism could not be attained at all except by the way o f educa­ tion and gradual developm ent.” 110 M a rx remembered W e itlin g ’s guerrilla arm y o f crim inals, and he may have fused this memory w ith a fear that C aptain W illic h harbored Bonapartist fantasies o f exporting the revolu­ tion at the p o in t o f arms. In the September 1850 m eeting o f the League’s central office in Lo n ­ don, the group was s p lit fo u r to three, M a rx ’s adherents being the “ m a jo rity,” w h ile Schapper supported W illic h in the “ m in o rity .” M a rx com plained o f the m in o rity : Instead of the actual conditions, pure w ill becomes the drive-wheel of the revolution fo r them. Whereas we tell the workers “ You have fifteen, tw enty, fifty years of c iv il wars and peoples* struggles to go through, not only to change the conditions but in order to change yourselves and to make yourselves fit fo r political rule.” You say on the contrary: W e must come to power rig h t away, or else we m ight go to sleep.**111

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A t the September m eeting o f the Leagues central office, Schapper re­ jected M arx's prospect o f a period o f bourgeois hegemony, stating that he d id “ not hold the opinion that the bourgeois w ill come to power in G er­ many. . . “ T h e question at issue," he held, “ was w hether at the o u t­ set we chop o ff heads or get our own heads chopped off. In France the workers w ill have th e ir tim e and thereupon so w ill we in G erm any." A fte r the French revolution, says Schapper, “ comes our tu rn , then we take such measures as ensure power fo r the proletariat . . . I am fa n a ti­ cal about this vie w ."112 Schapper is thus re lyin g upon the inte rna tio n a list part o f the theory o f Perm anent R evolution, w h ich sees one country's revolution as environed by those o f others, hence as susceptible to aid or to counter-revolutionary pressure. It is this inte rna tio n a l side o f the the­ ory o f perm anent revolution that Schapper then accented to ju s tify a more m ilita n t policy, w h ile M a rx accented the in te rn a l developm ent o f “ the actual conditions," p a rticu la rly o f p ro d u ctivity through the rise o f the bourgeoisie, to ju s tify a more prudent policy. Each, then, fe lt his p o li­ cies continuous w ith the M arch letter, and each could do so precisely be­ cause o f the ambiguous theory o f perm anent revolution it contained. T o reiterate: the theory o f perm anent revolution had both a domestic, in te rn a l dim ension and an inte rna tio n a l, external dim ension. H ere, how ­ ever, I w ish to stress the inte rna tio n a l dim ension o f perm anent revolu­ tion. In a Neue Rheinische Zeitung article early in 1849, M a rx fo rm u ­ lated this in a m anner clearly foreshadowing Im m anuel W allerstein's thesis about the w orld system: “ T h e relations o f ind u stry and commerce inside every country are ruled by th e ir intercourse w ith other countries, and are conditioned by th e ir relation on the w orld m arket."113 A gain, in his Class Struggles in France, M a rx argued that French workers mis­ takenly “ thought they w ould be able to consummate a proletarian revolu­ tion w ith in the national w alls o f France. . . . B ut the French relations o f production are conditioned by the foreign trade o f France, her posi­ tion on the w orld m arket and the laws thereof; how was France to break them w ith o u t a European revolutionary war, w h ich w ould strike back at the despot o f the w orld m arket, E ngland?"114 A n d in the same study, M a rx also asserts that the proletarian revolution “ is not accomplished anywhere w ith in the national walls; the class w ar w ith in French society turns in to a w orld war, in w hich the nations confront one another."115 O ther conceptions o f perm anent revolution current at that tim e also stressed its international dim ension, no less than its domestic and na­ tional. T h u s Moses Hess's Red Catechism for the German People, w r it­ ten in 1849 and published anonym ously in 1859, “ gives strong emphasis to the international aspect o f perm anent revolution . . . i f the workers w in in one country they m ust im m ediately go to the aid o f th e ir com-

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rades in other countries, since they cannot rule in a single country in the long ru n : so says the Catechism .” 116 Perm anent revolution then faced in two directions, in te rn a tio n a lly no less than dom estically. It was thus p ro fo u nd ly dissonant w ith the idea o f “ socialism in one country” that Stalin w ould later borrow from B ukharin, and explains w hy Trotsky, proponent o f perm anent revolution, became S ta lin ’s arch enemy. D om estically, perm anent revolution m eant that workers m ust pursue an independent p o litica l policy, at first in alliance w ith the bourgeoisie, b u t then carry forw ard th e ir own revolution u n til com m unism was fu lly achieved. In te rn a tio n a lly, it meant that a victory o f workers in one nation was to be used as a grounding for workers’ vic­ tories in other countries, whom they were obliged to help against th e ir domestic class enemies. In one dim ension, perm anent revolution in M a rx ’s view meant the dependence o f revolution on ind u stria l m atura­ tion through developm ent o f the bourgeoisie w ith in a country; it meant that politics was grounded in economics. In a second dim ension, how ­ ever, perm anent revolution also im plied that, in some countries, revolu­ tion m ig h t be dependent on the p o litico -m ilita ry balance of forces among countries. I t d id n o t, in short, necessarily depend on the m aturation o f industrialism w ith in a country b u t on the balance o f international politics. These tw o dimensions o f perm anent revolution inserted substantial am biguities a llo w in g d iffe re n t resolutions: Should the prim e criterion of revolutionary readiness be the domestic o r.th e inte rna tio n a l condition? O r both? I f in d u stria l underdevelopm ent in a country impeded revolu­ tion there, could this be counterbalanced (and hence ignored) i f this co u n try’s workers received help from successful revolutions in other countries? W h ic h was decisive, in te rn a l economics or the structure o f the inte rna tio n a l polity? C ould a propitious international politics com­ pensate fo r a backward domestic economy in a co u n try’s developm ent to­ ward socialism? Indeed, even the im plications o f the international dim ension o f per­ m anent revolution, taken alone, were not w ith o u t am biguities: D id the need to protect a workers’ state ju s tify its exporting revolution to another country whose domestic economy had not yet m atured industrially? D id the revolutionary d u ty o f inte rna tio n a l solidarity ju s tify endangering a revolution already successful in one country to help a prospective revolu­ tion elsewhere? T h e inte rna tio n a l dim ension o f perm anent revolution m igh t, on one side, stress the power and d u ty of successful revolution­ aries to help unsuccessful ones elsewhere; or it m ight, on the other side, be interpreted as im p ly in g that even i f a revolution occurred in one country, that “ socialism in one co u n try” was not feasible. For it was v u l­ nerable to pressures from others that w ould deform it, and all the more

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so i f the country in w hich the revolution had first occurred was not in ­ d u stria lly advanced. H a l Draper characterizes Schappers view as one that “ demands an im m ediate proletarian revolution w ith no first stage,” a view convergent w ith M ao s when he insisted that “ T o rebel is always rig h t.” Yet Schapper s view here is also very sim ilar to the one that M a rx w ould later come (o r re ve rt) to concerning the Russian revolution, when d u rin g the 1870s, he allowed that Russia need not in e vita b ly pass through capitalism (th e first stage) to reach a later collectivist society. B ut in September o f 1850 that was not M a rx s view . H e then held th a t the first stage, passing through capitalism , was necessary, fo r “ i f the pro­ letariat came to power [th e n ] it could not take d ire ctly proletarian mea­ sures b u t petty-bourgeois ones. O u r party can become the governm ent o n ly when conditions allow it to p u t its own outlook in to effect.” 117 I have indicated above that M a rx liked to refer to W illic h 's group as the “ m in o rity ,” yet W illic h controlled the m a jo rity in the London branch o f the League as w ell as in the London W orkers Educational U n io n : . . . W illic h was closer to [the workers] as a man. W h ile Marx, “scholar” and “ theorist,” lived his own life and only came to the U nion to lecture. W illic h , who had no fam ily, shared in the joys and sorrows of the exiled [German] proletarians. He had created [a] cooperative society and lived w ith the workers, ate w ith them and addressed them all in the fam iliar second person singular; M arx was respected but W illic h was popular.118 I t was in part because o f W illic h 's p o litica l strength that M a rx then sought to transfer the C om m unist League's headquarters to Germ any, and to give the Cologne branch the central office's authority. (Years later, M a rx w ould do m uch the same, sending the F irst Intern a tio n a l o ff to exile in N e w Y ork C ity , p a rtly to insulate it from B a k u n in .) H a vin g a “ m a jo rity” in the League's central office in London, M a rx overrode W illic h 's objection to the transfer. T h e sp lit w ith in the League then broke in to the open. M a rx gradually stopped attending meetings o f the League in London, isolating him self from exile politics, to in te n sify and pursue his own theoretical studies. A fte r the C om m unist trials at Cologne in 1851, the League was fin a lly and fo rm a lly ended at M arx's proposal, and he then w ithd re w in to the cavernous w ork o f Capital. In a way he now follow ed Schappers advice d u rin g the September debate, w hen the la tte r had said, “ Let us then have two Leagues, one fo r those w ho fig h t w ith the pen, another fo r those w ho act in another fashion.” In some part, M arx's w ithdraw al from active exile politics was occa­ sioned by the im plications o f his own (theoretical and e m p irica l) stud­ ies; correspondingly, his return to his studies and th e ir conclusions was influenced by the fa ilu re o f his politics. N icolaievsky and M aenchen-

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H e lfe n as w ell as D raper concur, in D rapers words, that “ around July 1850 his economic studies—as w e ll as the course of events—persuaded h im that the return o f in d u stria l prosperity meant an end to the ongoing continental crisis, and that the movement now had to reorient.” 119 In his own words, M a rx concluded that “ w ith this general prosper­ ity . . . there can be no ta lk o f a real revolution. A new revolution is 'possible only in consequence of a new crisis. It is, however, just as cer­ tain as this c risis” 120 T h e central point, then, o f Capital w ould be to show that the in te rn a l contradictions o f capitalism w ould produce the crisis inevitably, thereby bolstering the flagging hopes o f revolutionaries w ho had ju st been defeated,121 w h ile at the same tim e ju s tify in g M a rx ’s own w ithd ra w a l from active revolutionary politics at that p a in fu l tim e. T h e rhetorical fu n ctio n o f the structural determinism o f Capital, then, is to guarantee a redeeming crisis. In effect, however, this m eant that only one side o f the theory o f per­ m anent revolution, that concerned w ith the domestic economy, w ould now be given systematic developm ent in M a rx ’s m ature work, w h ile the international conditions also held requisite for proletarian revolution, and no less entailed by the theory o f perm anent revolution, w ould now d rift to the periphery o f M a rxist attention. In effect, M a rx ’s program fo r the analysis o f the structural requisites o f perm anent revolution was never to be more than h a lf completed.

P re lim in a ry S um m ary F o llo w ing the defeat o f the 1848 revolution, em erging M arxism was once again subjected to, and shaped by, great inte rna l stresses w ith in the workers’ movement w hich exposed the old fa u lt lines, setting artisans against intellectuals, and intellectuals against one another. T h e artisanworkers wanted to sustain practical revolutionary activity, b u t M a rx m aintained that the tim e had come to w ith d ra w from it and to deepen theory. Against the activist artisans, M a rx repeatedly reiterated the theo­ retical position he had elaborated earlier, in his 1843 C ritiq u e of H egel’s Philosophy of R ight, his 1844 Economic and Philosophical M anuscripts, and the 1845 H o ly Family. H is m aterialism and “ economism,” however, came to fu lle st flower in T he German Ideology w ith Engels, w hich they had started in 1845 b u t did not finish u n til summer 1846 after the ru n -in w ith W e itlin g . M a rx ’s developing theory, sharpened in polem ic against the m ilita n t artisans’ demand for revolution-now , insisted that it was not “ w ill” b u t objective conditions, and especially economic conditions, on w hich Com ­ m unism ’s fu tu re depended. T h is in tu rn meant, he indicated, that w hat

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was required was a scientific knowledge o f socioeconomic developm ent— his “ scientific” M arxism rather than their fra u d u le n t “ alchem y” —w hich could re lia b ly gauge when the tim e was rig h t. For m ilita n t artisans convinced th a t the tim e was ripe fo r revolutionnow, w hat was needed was n either fu rth e r knowledge or theory, nor the alien intellectuals or theorists w ho form ulated them : W h a t was needed instead was determ ined, tig h tly organized action. Those around M a rx, however, stressed that successful revolution was contingent on appropri­ ate socioeconomic conditions; revolutionary action depended on a “ crisis” that w ould come “ in e vita b ly.” T h e y also emphasized that this in e v ita b il­ ity w ould be demonstrated in theory and by theorists. R evolution, in short, now required the s iftin g and reading o f history's intestines, w hich was the special office o f radicalized intellectuals and theorists. A structuralist account in w hich socialism was said to depend on, and n o t o n ly depend on b u t be guaranteed by, objective socioeconomic con­ ditions, is thus tig h tly interw oven w ith a “ scientific” conception o f so­ cialism . I t im plied that intellectuals and theorists should hold a special place in the workers' movement, one th a t was privileged both epistemo­ logically and organizationally. Indeed, it was th e ir epistem ologically p riv ­ ileged place that legitim ated th e ir organizational authority. If, as M a rx had hurled against W e itlin g , “ Ignorance never helped anyone,” kn o w l­ edge d id n o t help everyone equally; it gave a special edge to those w ho claim ed to possess it. In its beginnings, then, M arxism was refracted toward a “ scientific” M arxism by the riv a lry between artisans and intellectuals. S cientific M arxism was an ideology that intellectuals could and d id use against th e ir artisan competitors; it served to ju s tify intellectuals' presence in a workers' movement in w hich they were a ll too obviously aliens. M arxism as a structuralist anti-voluntarism , focusing on the “ n a tu ra l” emergence o f objective socioeconomic conditions and especially the mode o f produc­ tion, was grounded in this very special set o f social relationships, fo r w hich it had a kin d o f elective a ffin ity. Its specific ontology, in w hich politics is dependent on economics, is thus interdependent w ith a special epistemology. In the latter, paradoxically, “ outsiders” or middle-class in ­ tellectuals, are said to know more about the conditions requisite fo r the workers' movement than “ insiders,” i.e., ordinary workers themselves. Precisely because they are outsiders, intellectuals are disposed to deny that workers have a privileged understanding even o f th e ir own lives and conditions. For, firs t ( it is said), the latte r may see and react o n ly to w hat is most im m ediately visible in th e ir everyday lives and, second, they may in te rp re t this in terms o f unassim ilated ideologies, w h ich may overemphasize economic and trade union issues like the wage question,

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b u t ignore the larger p o litica l circum ference. In this epistemology, it is not sim ply a fact o f nature or society that ordinary workers may be sub­ ject to a “ false consciousness,” and thus are under the hegemony of other social classes. T h e M a rxist critiqu e of workers’ false consciousness is also a fact of 'politics, reflecting the com petition between artisans and inte lle c­ tuals in the “ workers’ ” movement, and leg itim a tin g the la tte r’s claim to special a u th o rity in it. Intellectuals’ claim to a privileged epistemological position was im p lic it in M a rx ’s admission that “ I have always been opposed to the ephemeral opinions of the proletariat.” T h a t this epistemology serves to legitim ate the a u th o rity of outsiders w ith in the workers’ movement is suggested in M a rx ’s next sentence, w hich claimed that “ our party can achieve power only when circumstances allow it to p u t in to effect its own ideas,” as dis­ tin ct, one supposes, from ordinary workers’ “ ephemeral opinions.” T h e p o in t here, then, deals e n tire ly w ith the social fu n ctio n , not the intellectual v a lid ity , of the epistemological doctrine claim ing that insiders (o r outsiders) are in te lle ctu a lly privileged. T he essential p o in t is that the insider-privileged doctrine is part of an exclusionary effort by w hich socially subordinated groups (w h e th e r artisans, blacks, or w om en), ar­ guing that “ it takes one to know one,” claim cognitive advantages for themselves, w h ile denying them to other outsider groups. T o insist that this doctrine has social functions that serve intellectuals is not, however, to im p ly that M a rx and other intellectuals involved in the workers’ movement fostered that doctrine fo r selfish reasons alone. Doubtless, they did so p a rtly because they sim ply thought it in te lle ctu a lly correct (ju s t as those opposing it did so p a rtly because they, to the contrary, be­ lieved it w ro n g ). T h e question at issue between them was not sim ply w ho can know the social w orld, b u t also w ho gets access to its privileges. T h e doctrine o f insider-privileged knowledge was used by artisans against the intellectuals such as M a rx precisely as one way o f defining them as outsiders and, therefore, as in e lig ib le fo r the perquisites the group could confer—editorships, leadership offices, incomes, and other “ ideal” perqui­ sites such as solidarity. In one part, M a rx agreed that workers were indeed epistem ologically privileged, in respect to knowledge of the social w orld. O r at least he held that, at some p o in t in capitalism ’s breakdown, workers w ould be­ come better able than others to understand the true nature of capitalism as a whole. M a rx ’s position in the workers’ movement, p a rticu la rly after the revo­ lu tio n a ry years in Cologne ended, was basically that o f a consultant to various working-class parties and groups. H e was never to become the official, fu ll-tim e leader o f a workers’ party or a trade union. T o be a

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‘ consultant” im plies that he could persuade and argue fo r a position, b u t lacked organizationally endowed im perative a u th o rity that could order it. In short, M a rxs position in the workers' movements after Cologne rested on his role as a man o f knowledge, a th in ke r and theorist, self-im putedly in possession o f som ething like a social “ science." M a rx is drawn to this p u b lic self-definition as scientist, even i f he d id not surrender to i t : 122 p a rtly because he really had no other w ay to ground his a u th o rity in the workers' m ovement, fo r a “ consultant's" claim rests on w hat he knows; p a rtly because he had earlier concluded that philosophy and philosophers needed to be transcended ( “ abolished"), yet he knew he was more than a jou rn a list; and p a rtly also because he loved scholarship passionately, and often experienced p o litica l action as an enervating diversion from intellectual w ork. For him , theory was in part a refuge from politics and p o litica l failure. H e was m uch happier to get out o f exile politics and back in to the lib ra ry than m any other em inent exiles after the fa ilu re of the 1848 revolution. Later, as we w ill see, and even though he was a very effective organizer, he also found that m a in tain ing the F irst Intern a tio n a l was a g rin d that kept h im from his studies. H is scholarly works were his abiding, perhaps truest love. In the end, he sacrificed him self, his w ife and children, everything, fo r his w ork on Capital. I t was this he fe lt to be his ca llin g and historical m is­ sion. W e began w ith a M a rx w ho saw him self as a kin d o f vessel fu rth e r­ in g —in a way a ltru istica lly—the interests o f a class other than his own. W e then argued that this was in part the “ appearance" o f things, and that the “ re a lity" underneath this was another M arx, egotistically in ­ volved in struggles fo r power against his com petitors—artisans and other intellectuals—in the workers' movement. Yet there is no reason to believe that this is the ultim ate “ essence" and fin a l tru th o f this m atter, i f indeed there is any such. In the next section, we shall see that M arx's “ M o ria rity ," his arch-foe, B akunin, denounced M arxism as the ideology o f a “ N e w Class" o f in te l­ lectuals, w hich is really m uch the same p o in t to w h ich our own analysis seems to have led. Yet we had best not anticipate. For one th in g , i f M a rx sought to enhance his p o litica l power—and o n ly the worst ideo­ logue w ould deny it —we s till need to ask w h y he d id this, w hat his in ­ tention was, w h ile also d istinguishing that from the consequences w hich flowed from his p o litica l victories. A fte r all, to say that M a rx was the ideologist o f a risin g new class o f intellectuals does not say enough u n ­ less we know w hat “ intellectuals" w ant or stand for. A n d B akunin, as we shall see, u n fo rtu n a te ly thought the answer to that plain enough never to have raised the question at all. In short, there are s till ironies to be sifted.

6 Marx s Final Battle: Bakunin and the First International

M a rx ’s encounter w ith m ilita n t artisans and com peting intellectuals—his cycle o f feuds w ith W e itlin g , G ottschalk, and W illic h —was the prelude to the cu lm in a tin g co n flict o f M a rx ’s p o litica l life , his prolonged and b itte r duel w ith M ik h a il B akunin. T h is clim actic conflict was largely fought w ith in the organizational fram ew ork o f the In ternational W o rk ­ ingm en’s Association ( I.W .A .) , later known as the F irst International. In short, part o f w hat was at stake was organizational power. T h e strug­ gle was played out d u rin g the organization’s lifespan w hich had begun in London in 1864 and ended, fo r a ll practical purposes, at the I.W .A .’s 1872 congress in Den Haag. A t this legendary convention M a rx suc­ ceeded in having his ca re fu lly m obilized delegates expel B akunin and then, to doublelock the organization against the la tte r’s grow ing in flu ­ ence, packed it o ff in to exile in the U n ite d States. T h is last protracted combat w ith B akunin helps us better to under­ stand the earlier ones and to recognize—as N icolaievsky and M aenchenH elfe n d id so b rillia n tly long ago—that these were all part o f a single series, a kin d o f recurrent bad dream in w hich M a rx found him self in e xtrica b ly enmeshed. T h is sequence o f conflicts seen in its entirety specifies the m icro-m atrix from w hich M arxism emerged and clarifies how M a rx ’s theory acquired certain o f its d e fin in g accents and rig id itie s and developed its character. T h is fin a l battle provides a vivid m agnifica­ tion o f m any o f the features o f the previous encounters whose character­ istics were at first d iffic u lt to see because they were sometimes fleeting 141

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and m iniaturized. T h is recurrent (ye t e vo lvin g ) conflict not only casts lig h t on originary M arxism b u t on later developments in M arxism . Some subsequent episodes may be seen to have been anticipated in embryo by the earlier conflicts. I f these early p o litica l battles ended in 1872 w ith B akunins expulsion from the I.W .A ., the w ar o f w hich they were a part continued and, indeed, continues s till. Lenin's later form ulation o f the theory o f the ‘Vanguard" is continuous w ith that early history—i.e., it is an extension o f M a rx ’s earlier ambivalence toward intellectuals; and it is not w ith o u t value to regard M ao’s antecedents as reaching back through Bakunin to W e itlin g . I shall begin w ith the briefest sketch o f the I.W .A . as the organiza­ tional setting fo r the conflict between M a rx and B akunin, fo llo w in g w hich I examine B a ku n in ’s doctrines and how they related to M a rx ’s, and w hat they indicate about the social m a trix that helped shape M arxism . From about 1850 to 1864, that is, from the demise o f the C om m unist League, M a rx had effectively w ithd ra w n from m undane p o litica l responsi­ b ilitie s and especially from organizational involvem ents. For fourteen years he had largely shut h im se lf in to his labors in p o litica l economy and his w ork on C apital.1 H is recall to active p o litica l service was unex­ pected, com ing about when he was visited by V ic to r LeLubez, a young French exile, who in vite d h im to participate in a forthcom ing m eeting o f a group that w ould become the Intern a tio n a l W o rkin g m e n ’s Associa­ tion. T h e p re lim in a ry organizing w ork had been completed w ell before M a rx had been approached and M a rx was in vite d as a representative o f the German workers. M a rx p rom ptly agreed but then cautiously noted that perhaps a real German w orker ought to be added, and asked that his frie n d , the ta ilo r Johann Eccarius, also be included. In short order, M a rx became the ch ie f theorist, and grey eminence o f the new I.W .A . who, w h ile w ritin g its decisive documents and s ittin g continuously on its General C ou n cil, declined to accept the offer o f the chairm anship in 1866, and, in fact, rarely attended its congresses. “ H e spoke at practically no p u b lic meetings, he w rote no signed articles, and sufficed him self w ith the im m ediate tasks before h im , that o f ‘in flu e n c­ in g the workers movement behind the scenes.’ ” 2 T h e new involvem ent was such a marked s h ift from M a rx ’s recent practice o f insistent u n a ffilia tio n that he fe lt called upon to explain it to Engels. In a letter o f Novem ber 4, 1864, he w rote that “ the reason w h y I decided to depart from the otherwise in fle xib le rule to decline such in vita tio n s’’ essentially boiled down to the fact that the new organization had a foothold in the trade union m ovement and that real “ forces’’ had been m obilized in the new organization. In short, it was the promise o f

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power that tempted M a rx from his lib ra ry studies. By September 11, 1867, M a rx wrote Engels that “ in the next revolution, w hich is perhaps nearer than it appears, we (th a t is, you and I ) w ill have this power engine in our hands. . . . W e can be very w e ll content.” 3 M a rx had at last made his rendezvous w ith the “ w orkin g class,” or w hat he was pleased enough to consider such. In fact, however, as Saul Padover indicates, the E nglish m ajority on the General C ouncil represented the skilled trades—“ bakers, printers and shoemakers.” 4 Subsequently affiliated unions also included masons, pattern drawers, organ builders, cabinetmakers, coach trim m ers, book­ binders, plasterers, cigar makers, and tru n k makers. In short, w h ile the I.W .A . spoke to and on behalf o f the w orkin g class and proletariat, it was, once again, another organization largely created by artisans. Am ong the active members o f the I.W .A /s General C ou n cil were H erm ann Jung, a Swiss-German watchm aker, George Odger, a shoemaker, Johann Eccarius and F riedrich Lessner, both tailors, K arl Pfaender, an artist, Eug ene D upont, a maker o f m usical instrum ents, and a tavernkeeper, H e in ric h Balleter. “ T h e French labour leaders who were to be im portant figures in the In te rn a tio n a l,” w rites Paul Thom as, “ . . . T o la in , L im o u ­ sin, Fribourg, V a rlin and D u p o n t were, respectively, a carver, a laceworks m achinist, an engraver, a bookbinder, and a maker o f m usical instrum ents. . . .” 5 Thom as endorses a conception o f the m atter w hich holds that the I.W .A .'s trade union fo llo w in g came from “ backward” industries, essentially d e fin in g “ backward” as a dissociation from the modern factory technology, in short, d e fin in g it “ econom istically.” A more relevant and accurate perception o f the m atter is that these artisans were at that historical period from the most 'politically advanced sector o f the w orkin g class. T h e y along w ith the peasantry, as B arrington M oore recently rem inded us, were in fact the “ ch ie f basis o f radical­ ism ” 6 in m odernizing countries. A n d M a rx once again encountered the artisans' resistance to him self and other intellectuals. T hus in 1866, at the first congress o f the I.W .A . in Geneva, the engraver and French com m unist H e n ri T o la in demanded that only m anual workers be seated as delegates, arguing that “ . . . we have to consider as opponents a ll members o f the privileged classes, privileged w hether by virtu e o f capital or a diplom a . . . it is therefore necessary that its delegates belong n e ith er to the liberal professions nor to the caste o f capitalists.” 7 I t was precisely because M a rx had expected such exclusionary sentiments that he had kept a low profile, had asked that a “ real” w orker, Eccarius, be in vite d to the I.W .A .’s first p u b lic m eeting, and indeed had refused to serve as delegate to this first congress, although le ttin g it be know n that he opposed T olain's m otion. Despite

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M a rx s opposition, T o la in 's m otion was defeated by a m argin o f o nly five votes—25 to 20—thus a s h ift o f three votes to T o la in w ould have carried his exclusionary resolution. Radical artisans' exclusionary im pulse against intellectuals, then, d id not w ith e r away w ith the death o f the C om m unist League b u t manifested itse lf again in the I.W .A . T h e International W orkingm en's Association was also the setting in w hich M a rx and Engels made plain that they were indeed fig h tin g a struggle “ on two fronts"; once more, this tim e in the I.W .A ., they be­ came enmeshed in a contest w ith com peting intellectuals, against whom they developed th e ir own exclusionary tactics, in the name o f the “ self­ em ancipation o f the proletariat." T h e I.W .A .'s com ponent sections were thus to consist p rim a rily o f workers, w h ile “ sections exclusively or p rin ­ cip a lly composed o f members not belonging to the w orkin g class" were to be denied adm ittance. Hence sections consisting p rim a rily o f students were excluded from membership in the I.W .A ., even though there was a rule declaring that “ everybody w ho acknowledges and defends the principles o f the I.W .A . is eligible to become a member. . . ."8 M arx's struggle to exclude com peting intellectuals was also evidenced, as m en­ tioned earlier, in his le tte r to Engels o f December 10, 1864, where M a rx explains how, in order to exclude Louis Blanc from the In tern a tio n a l W orkingm en's Association, he had elim inated the category o f “ honorary m em ber" o f the I.W .A .9

T h e C o n flict between M a rx and B akunin A lth o u gh m uch is usually made o f B akunin's pro-peasant ideology, not to speak o f his customary Russian peasant blouse, in p o in t o f fact, Bakunin him self was a revolutionary intellectual. W h a t makes h im d if­ ferent from M arx's other foes, such as W e itlin g , G ottschalk, or W illic h , is precisely that B akunin wrote extensively and elaborated his own theo­ retical critiqu e o f the social w orld and o f revolution at great length. As John C la rk correctly notes, “ Bakunin is indeed a serious p o litica l th in ke r whose works deserve careful consideration today."10 W h a t makes M a rx so im placably opposed to h im , however, is not sim ply that B akunin was his inte lle ctu a l com petitor fo r revolutionary leadership in the I.W .A ., b u t that the doctrine B akunin was developing provided a theoretical grounding for the very a n ti-intellectual exclusionary policies so prevalent among the m ilita n t artisans—among “ Messrs, the K n o te n ” In short, M arx's fu ry against B akunin derived in part from the fact that both the p o litica l competitors M a rx opposed in his battle on “ two fro n ts" were personified in B akunin.

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T h e In tern a tio n a l W o rkin g m e n ’s Association had begun as a loose coalition o f “ working-class” groups each vying w ith the other fo r hege­ m ony, and each in the beginning often defended by M arx, however m uch he contem ptuously dismissed them privately in letters to Engels. B ut later, as M a rx was spooked by B akunin, as each became the other’s veritable obsession, M a rx reverted to the doctrinaire and authoritarian rig id it ies he had exhibited in his earlier war against W e itlin g . . . M a rx in the course o f his dispute w ith the Bakuninists came perilously close to m aking the Intern a tio n a l homogenous and d o ctrin a lly m onolithic, doing m uch in this way to ensure that fu tu re Internationals w ould be m o n olith ic where the first were n o t.” 11 In a confrontation between two such great polemicists, it is too easy to overemphasize th e ir differences and to gloss th e ir sim ilarities and convergences. Paul Thom as is thus quite rig h t in insisting that we note the things on w hich M a rx and B akunin agreed, even if oversim plifying his account o f these: “ Both believed in the prim acy o f the economic 'base’ over the p o litica l 'superstructure’; both wished to overthrow capi­ talism and were engaged upon w orkin g as active revolutionists to this end; both were socialists and collectivists, opposed to bourgeois in d iv id ­ ualism ; both were b itte rly at odds w ith religion; and both had a venera­ tion fo r natural science.” 12 One could add, both began as Hegelians. O ne’s evenhandedness thus equably displayed, there is s till the task o f accounting fo r the conflict. In w hat follow s, I shall focus on th e ir doc­ trin a l differences and, therefore, run the risk o f being misunderstood. For I do not at all mean that this (o r a n y) conflict is solely attributable to p rio r differences o f theory and ideology. M y own view is considerably more com plex: that the conflict was furthered p a rtly by th e ir doctrinal differences but, in th e ir tu rn , these are also p a rtly due to th e ir conflict. As emphasized in the previous discussion, each party is certainly strug­ g lin g fo r power fo r him self and his group. Yet this struggle is not gen­ erated only by the com forts, privileges or powers to be achieved by vic­ tory but is, in part, pursued also because each wants to be in a position to im plem ent his ideas. Power is sought, in part, so that the 'T ig h t ideas” —com m only o f course assumed to be one’s ow n—may acquire the in flu ­ ence they are thought rig h tly to deserve. T h e passionate protagonist believes he and his enemy are p ro fo u nd ly d iffe re n t. H e sees him self as seeking to defend in te llig e n t and decent principles, w h ile regarding his adversary either as m isguided by erroneous principles or as unscrupu­ lously using principles as a disguise fo r selfish interests. From my own standpoint, however, it seems more prudent (and more parsim onious) to assume that both protagonists are alike, each pursuing both m aterial and

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sp iritu a l interests. W h a t they take to be th e ir principles, ideologies, or theories are, in some part, anterior convictions that genuinely generate the contention; b u t in some part they are also post helium rationaliza­ tions o f an involvem ent fueled by other forces. A p a rt from resting on a mistaken rationalist view o f the relation be­ tween hum an conduct and theory, any account o f the co n flict between M a rx and Bakunin that wishes to reduce it to th e ir doctrinal differences must also miss the d istinctive character o f th e ir dispute and how it differs from those earlier ones in w hich M a rx was involved. M arx's previous adversaries had been German or French. C learly the fact that Bakunin was a Russian (and M a rx, a G erm an) made a difference. Each was steeped in his own d iffe re n t culture and ethnocentrism , and this remained an abiding source o f m utual irrita tio n and suspicion. M a rx thought o f Bakunin as a Russian, and B akunin thought o f M a rx as a Germ an, and neither thought the other better fo r it. B akunin saw M a rx and his socialism as a typ ica lly G erm anic em bodim ent o f O h rig ke it, slavish respect fo r officialdom and authority; . . in his eyes, G erm any had been the hub and pattern o f despotism fo r centuries. . . . B akunin liked quoting the saying o f L u d w ig Borne that other people are often slaves, b u t we Germans always lackeys/ ” 13 “ I f the Prussians w in ,” w rote M a rx to Engels at the beginning o f the Franco-Prussian war, “ the cen­ tralisation o f the state power w ill be useful fo r the centralisation o f the w orkin g class” 14—again confirm ing Bakunin's worst suspicions about M arx's policies concerning both the state and Germ any. M a rx, in tu rn , contem ptuously denounced Bakunin's follow ers as Kosaken and declared the Russians a backward nation and the keystone o f European reaction. T h e theoretical differences between M a rx and B akunin, then, are in some part grounded in th e ir national differences, B akunin being con­ vinced o f the power and revolutionary potential o f the peasantry, w h ile M a rx tended to view them as a petty bourgeoisie doomed fo r the h isto ri­ cal dustbin and as having no revolutionary promise. For those capable o f reading the signs, it was plain that social revolu­ tion w ould not spell the end o f national rivalries. T h a t the co n flict be­ tween M a rx and B akunin was embedded in v iru le n t national antipathies indicates, in one part, that th e ir duel was not m erely grounded in doc­ trin a l differences and, in another, how it d iffered—despite the co n tin u i­ ties—from M arx's earlier conflicts w ith W e itlin g , W illic h , and G ottschalk (o r even w ith P roudhon). There were, o f course, other im portant differences between these earlier conflicts and the later ones. B akunin, fo r example, differed im p o rta n tly from M arx's earlier artisan foes in that he was the leader o f a viable and grow ing movement o f international

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scope. M ore than that, w h ile M a rx ’s previous artisan adversaries had all been persons o f substance, B akunin overshadowed them as revolutionary, theorist, and person. H e was an outsized charism atic figure, the veritable em bodim ent o f the Rom antic revolutionary hero, a giant of a man whose passionate, m u ltilin g u a l oratory could raise audiences to th e ir feet in a paroxysm o f thunderous enthusiasm. In short, M a rx began to feel that it was not an ordinary foe b u t a veritable nemesis that was stalking him . T o make matters worse, Baku­ n in ’s credentials, as theorist and as practical revolutionary, were substan­ tia l. W h e n seen from an academic standpoint, however, B akunin’s w ritte n w ork w ould not look like “ real” theory to M a rx w ho—in an egregiously mistaken jud g m e n t—denounced him , as he had W e itlin g , as a theoretical ignoramus. T hus M a rx wrote Paul Lafargue on A p ril 19, 1870, re fe rrin g to B akunin as an “ ass” who could not understand that every class movement is always a p o litica l movement. A gain, on N ovem ­ ber 23, 1871, M a rx wrote Bolte from London that as “ For M r. Bakunin the theory (th e assembled rubbish he has scraped together from Prou­ dhon, St. Simon, e tc.) is a secondary a ffair—m erely a means to his selfassertion. I f he is a n o n e n tity as a theorist he is in his element as an in trig u e r.” 15 For his part, however, B akunin was considerably more m eticulous and decent in g ivin g M a rx his fu ll due, as w e ll as a d m ittin g that he had learned m uch from him . Indeed, Bakunin w rote M a rx, “ You see there­ fore, m y dear frie n d , that I am your disciple, and I am proud o f it.” 16 In a lette r o f October 1869 to H erzen, B akunin lauded M a rx ’s “ enor­ mous services to the cause o f socialism, w hich he has served ably, ener­ getically and fa ith fu lly throughout the tw enty-five years I have known him , and in w hich he has undoubtedly out stripped us a ll.” 17 Bakunin also m odestly acknowledged that “ as far as learning is concerned, M a rx was, and s till is, incom parably more advanced than I. . . . I greatly respected h im for his learning and fo r his passionate devotion to the cause o f the proletariat.” 18 B akunin had a sense o f justice and a generos­ ity o f sp irit toward his adversaries; in this, i f in n o th in g else, he easily vanquished his adversary. Perhaps one other difference between M a rx ’s co n flict w ith Bakunin and his other struggles w orth emphasing here is that it was a protracted struggle and in a way an inconclusive one; fo r almost a decade it re­ verberated throughout Europe, p u b lic ly fought-out in the open, although often w ith in the precincts o f the In tern a tio n a l W orkingm ens’ Associa­ tion, rather than being the q u ick thrust and m uffled gasp w ith in a con­ trolled com m ittee room th a t the W e itlin g affair had been.

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T h e B a k u n in is t Synthesis As Paul Thomas relates, both M a rx and B akunin believed in the p ri­ macy o f the economic “ base” (Thom as uses quotes, apparently queasy about im p u tin g such a crude d istin ctio n to M a rx )- W e w ill see, how ­ ever, that M a rx certainly did not th in k B akunin d id but, rather, accused Bakunin o f being a p o litica l alchem ist who fantasized he could produce the gold o f revolution out o f any base social condition at a ll; not realizing that a specific economic developm ent was requisite fo r socialism. Far from agreeing that B akunin accepted the prim acy o f the economic, M a rx held that his adversary substituted “ w ill” fo r a knowledge o f economics and a reliance upon natural economic developm ent. C orrespondingly, when Bakunin affirm ed the power o f the “ economic” he d id not in fact mean quite the same th in g that M a rx did. Looked at closely, it is often d iffic u lt, here as elsewhere, to be sure w hether th e ir theoretical d iffe r­ ences produced th e ir contention, or th e ir contention shaped and sharp­ ened th e ir differences in theory. Both wished to overthrow capitalism , says Thom as. Perhaps, though it w ould be more precise to say M a rx wanted to elim inate the bourgeoisie and proprietary capitalism . As fo r B akunin, he clearly d id not lim it his target to w hat M a rx called the bourgeoisie but aimed his revolution at the state, no less than the proprietary class. B akunin was quite em phatic in in d ica tin g that moneyed proprietors could be elim inated b u t that rem aining differences in education and knowledge w ould soon produce differences in power and reproduce class privileges. I f both were, as Thomas says, socialists and collectivists, they had very d iffe re n t concep­ tions o f how and when the new society could be brought about and how it w ould be organized once enacted. M a rx ’s position, as B akunin elabo­ rated at length, entailed an imposed centralization cu lm in a tin g in the state’s ownership o f the means o f production, w h ile his own was insis­ te n tly a vo lu n ta rily federated set o f groups. As E ric Hobsbawm correctly states, “ Anarchism is a critiq u e o f authoritarianism and bureaucracy in states, parties, and m ovement . . . [and] also suggests a solution in terms o f direct democracy and sm all-governing groups. . . .” 19 F in a lly, if both had a “ veneration fo r natural science,” M a rx saw sci­ ence as crucial in alleviating scarcity, thereby m aking socialism possible. B akunin, however, saw natural science as p ro vid in g the cu ltu ra l base fo r a “ new class” o f intelligentsia w ho w ould corrupt socialism, make them ­ selves a new elite, and impose th e ir rule on the m ajority. Indeed, Baku­ n in ’s conception o f the nature and im portance o f natural science was greatly influenced by that o f Auguste Com te, w hich M a rx thought was largely rubbish. A n y view o f the relation between B akunin and M a rx

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w hich sees them sim ply as converging or diverging theorists misses the fact that B akunin was a post-M arxist; that he him self had adm ittedly learned a great deal from M a rx and had indeed b u ilt upon M arxism ; or, at any rate, on his critica l appropriation o f M arxism . In p o in t o f fact, B akuninism was an H egelian synthesis o f M arxism , Positivism , and Anarchism , each o f these doctrines becoming substantially altered as it enters in to a new conjunction w ith the others. A lth o u g h usually termed an “ anarchist,” B akunin often preferred to call him self an anti-authoritarian com m unist; and, u n like Proudhon who was anti-revolutionary and in d ivid u a listic, Bakunin was a collectivist and passionately revolutionary. H e is thus linked more closely to W e itlin g (w h o had taken Bakunin to his first workers’ m eeting), Gottschalk, and W illic h . In a Comtean vein, Bakunin had once remarked o f Proudhon that “ his great m isfortune was that he had never studied the natural sciences or appropriated th e ir m ethod.” 20 B akunin, then, is not to be un ­ derstood sim ply by labeling h im an “ anarchist” and reducing his doc­ trin e to that single system. B akunin interpreted Comtean positivism as having in part an em ancipatory role because it opposed conventional religion and ancient metaphysics. B akunin thus spoke o f positivism as “ the heir and at the same tim e the absolute negation o f religion and metaphysics, this philosophy, w hich had been anticipated and prepared a long tim e ago by the noblest m inds, was first conceived by the great French th in ke r, A ugust Comte, w ho b o ld ly and s k illfu lly traced its o rig i­ nal o u tlin e .” 21 In a sim ilar Comtean vein, B akunin also lauded positivism w hich , “ having dethroned in the m inds o f men the religious fable and the day-dreams o f metaphysics, enables us to catch a glimpse o f scientific education in the fu ture . I t w ill have as its basis the study o f N ature and sociology as its com pletion.” 22 B akunin viewed Com te as a m aterialist precisely because he was opposed to metaphysics, regarding m etaphysi­ cians as those who spiritualized m atter and derived it from S p irit, adding that “ A ugust Comte, on the contrary, m aterialized the spirit, grounding it solely in m atter.” 23 B akunin was also one o f the first to understand the convergences between C om te’s change-oriented evolutionism and H egel’s philosophy in w hich the accent is so m uch on process and change that Geist its e lf is seen as undergoing the most profound transform ations over tim e. There are at least three other im portant convergences between Baku­ n in and Com te. One is that B akunin, like the Comteans, had a great passion fo r “ organization,” and was co n tin u a lly p ro life ra tin g revolution­ ary groups. In this he shared the nineteenth-century passion o f the SaintSimonians w ho dreamed o f canals and postal systems w hich w ould lin k people together. “ O rganization,” o f the new economy and of the new

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Europe, was a central dedication o f the Comteans and o f the SaintSimonians, o f whom they were essentially a variant. “ O rganizing or p u llin g things together was regarded by Saint-Sim on, the father o f Positivism , as a central device o f social reform ation. L ike Comte, Bakunin stressed the im portance o f vo lu n tary as against imposed social organization. Indeed, Comte's emphasis on science and knowledge was grounded p a rtly in the expectation that science—produc­ in g “ positive" ( in the sense o f certain) knowledge—w ould freely w in the consent o f persons who then, v o lu n ta rily sharing the same sciencesanctioned beliefs, develop a common cu ltu re w h ich w ould spontaneously yield consensus and social solidarity. B akunin s libertarian insistence on voluntary rather than imposed organization and change is part o f the basis fo r his violent antipathy to the state and his preference fo r a de­ centralized society held together by a federalism based on m utual choice. (T h e convergence between this Bakunian federalism and the Comtean preference may be seen in the form er s convergence w ith E m ile D u rkheim's version o f corporative syndicalism , w h ich also had a clear Com ­ tean heritage.) F in a lly, Comte's positivism provided B akunin w ith the clear view o f the em erging im portance o f knowledge and science as the new basis fo r modem social organization and production, as w e ll as o f a voluntary social consensus. B akunin, however, rejected the Comtean reliance upon men o f sci­ ence, seeing this as a new priestly elitism , and thus he appropriated a positivist appreciation o f science only selectively and critic a lly . H e then extended this in to a critiq u e o f M arxism as the ideology, not o f the w ork­ in g class, but o f the new class o f scientific intelligentsia. M arx's focus on the revolution as an expropriation o f the bourgeoisie is thus seen as nec­ essary b u t insufficient, fo r there rem ain those forms o f dom ination grounded in educational privilege. C learly, then, B akunin's view o f Proudhonian anarchism and M a rxist socialism was shaped by his critica l appropriation o f Comtean positivism , w h ile his acceptance o f M a rxist socialism and revolution gave h im critica l distance on both Com te and Proudhon. Bakunin had w rought a d istin ctive ly new synthesis whose o rig in a lity s till seems not to have won the appreciation it deserves. In ­ deed, it w ould be m y own net conclusion that, on three o f the m ain questions on w hich M a rx and B akunin d iffered—the oppressive role o f the state even under socialism, the e litis t role o f the new class, and w hether it was G erm any or Russia that w ould be the most reactionary force later in nineteenth-century Europe—it was Bakunin's analysis that was more nearly correct.24 T o elaborate on some o f the differences between Bakunin and M a rx: Essentially, B akunin may be understood as h o ld in g that M a rx was a

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p o litica l utopian, not because he d id not see the need to m obilize “ p o liti­ cal” power, b u t because he did not see the dangers o f doing so. Bakunin accused M a rx o f ign o rin g the capacity o f p o litica l power to become a d istin ct and separate basis o f class privilege. B a ku n in ’s conception of em ancipation, then, was not sim ply the removal o f the proprietary classes or o f inequities based on th e ir ownership o f the economy, but, addition­ ally, Bakunin opposed a ll forms o f dom ination, in c lu d in g those grounded in the p o litica l system and on educational differences.25 “ . . . [H ]a v in g accepted M a rx ’s critiq u e o f bourgeois ideology as the ideology le g itim a t­ in g and v e ilin g the exploitative power relations o f capitalist society, [B a ku n in ] is extending this critiq u e to M arxism itse lf, as the em erging ideology o f a developing social class, a new class whose power is rooted in the grow th o f centralized p la n n in g and specialized technique. . . . T h is technobureaucratic class absorbs and expands the functions o f previous bureaucracies, and utilizes statist ideology, w hich presents po­ litic a l dom ination as necessary fo r social order, to legitim ate its exis­ tence. . . . B a ku n in ’s o rig in a lity consisted in his recognition, at a very early stage, o f both the p o litica l bureaucratic aspects and the scientifictechnical side o f such a structure, and its le g itim a tin g underpinnings.” 26 M ore precisely, B akunin derived this judgm ent from Comteanism (as a variant o f S aint-S im onianism ). W h a t he added was not this diagnosis o f m odernity, but, rather, a critical and negative evaluation o f the new elitism o f science, w hich Comteans had u n c ritic a lly celebrated. B a ku n in ’s views were developed in terms that resonate the H egelian dialectic and especially the master-bondsman struggle, the M arxist theory o f a struggle between the proprietary class and the dispossessed, the D arw in ia n struggle fo r existence, and a Nietzschean conception o f h u ­ man nature centered on the w ill to power: A ll men possess a natural instinct for power [declares Bakunin. T his] . . . has its origin in the basic law of life enjoining every individual to wage a ceaseless struggle in order to insure his existence or assert his rights. . . . I f there is a devil in history, it is this power principle . . . this cursed element is to be found, as a natural instinct, in every man, the best of them not excepted. Everyone carries w ith in himself the germs of this lust for power. . . ,27 In B a ku n in ’s view, power contaminates everyone, even (h e says w ith nice re fle x iv ity ) “ sincere socialists and revolutionaries” ; no one can be trusted w ith it. T h e p o in t, then, is that power its e lf is one o f the things people seek; that power is desired in and o f itse lf, although it has the most intim ate connection w ith w ealth, p ro vid in g a basis fo r its accum ulation. Power

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and w ealth thus have a m utual connection, each p ro vid in g a means and a m otive for seeking the other: Political power and wealth are inseparable. the means to gain wealth and must center ing it, for w ithout it they w ill not be able who are wealthy must become strong, for, risk of being deprived of their wealth.28

Those who have power have all their efforts upon acquir­ to retain their power. Those lacking power, they run the

B a k u n in vs. M a rx on the State T h e fundam ental p ivo t o f the M arx-B akunin conflict, however, was w hether the state could be relied upon as the heir o f the bourgeoisie to take over the means o f production and to adm inister them in the interest o f the m a jo rity o f the society, as M a rx and Engels supposed in speaking o f the new socialist state and the “ dictatorship o f the p ro le ta ria t," or w hether the state w ould adm inister its new property p rim a rily to en­ hance its own interests and that o f its bureaucracy, as B akunin feared. T h e d iffic u lty w ith the latter's conception was that, in its fear o f politics and the co rrup tin g influence o f power, w hich had led it to policies o f decentralized voluntary federation, the revolution m ig h t never m obilize power enough to succeed or, i f it d id, to hold on to w hat it had won. T h e d iffic u lty w ith M arx's conception was, indeed, precisely as B akunin had foreseen, that w ith a socialism where the centralized state owned the means o f production, a new privileged class o f bureaucrats and educated w ould arise, the state w ould grow more pow erful than ever, and the mass o f society w ould sim ply have exchanged one master fo r another. T hus Bakunin could o n ly th in k that Engels's fo rm u la tio n — “ D o away w ith capital . . . and the state w ill fa ll o f its e lf"—was a fa iry tale o f w hich German intellectuals were m indlessly fond. For Engels, “ the abolition o f capital is precisely the social revolu­ tion . . . ," whereas fo r B akunin it was o n ly one necessary condition w hich could not even begin so long as the state, on w hich capital had been based, was not first destroyed. W h ile M a rx and Engels also came to seek a destruction o f the old state, as necessary fo r the “ dictatorship o f the proletariat," they objected to B akunin's h o s tility (as Engels p u t it ) “ to any state." T h e y wanted a new workers' state w ith w hich , first, to terrorize the bourgeoisie and smash the counter-revolution and, second, to adm inister the capital expropriated from the bourgeoisie. Above all, then, they wanted to invest, even i f o n ly tem porarily, a ll power, m ilita ry and economic, in the state, a prospect w hich horrified B akunin, w ho thought that on no account w ould such a state in fact be the workers' or the people's. “ W h a t does it m ean," asked Bakunin incredulously in

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1873, f ° r the proletariat to be organized as the ru lin g class/ ” 29 in the C om m unist M anifestos conception of successful proletarian revolution. Can it really be,” asked B akunin, “ that the entire proletariat w ill stand at the head o f the [new socialist] adm inistration?” 30 In his m arginal notes (*8 7 4 -7 5 ) on B akunin’s Statehood and A n ­ archy, the volum e in w h ich the above questions were asked, M a rx replied, “ Can it really be that in a trade union, for example, the entire union forms its executive committee? Can it be that there w ill disappear from the factory all division o f labor and differences of function stem­ m ing from it? ” 31 T h e M a rxist state B akunin saw w a itin g in the wings of history was d istu rbin g but correct: . . . the so-called people’s state w ill be nothing other than the quite despotic adm inistration of the masses of the people by a new and very non-numerous aristocracy of real and supposed learned ones. T he people is not learned, so it w ill be entirely freed from the cares of governing, w h o lly incorporated in to the governed herd. A fine liberation. T h e M a rx ­ ists sense this contradiction and, realizing that the regime of the learned is the hardest, most offensive and most contemptuous in the world, w ill in fact be a dictatorship in spite of all the democratic forms, console themselves w ith the thought that the dictatorship w ill be temporary and short-lived. . . . T h e y [the M arxists] m aintain that only a dictatorship, their own naturally, can create the people’s w ill; we answer: no dicta­ torship can have any other aim than to perpetuate itself and it can only give rise to and in s till slavery in the people that tolerate it.32

Once again, history seems to have been on B akunin’s, not M a rx’s, side, the quotation above accurately portraying the states o f Eastern Europe today w hich arose under the provenance o f M arxism .

B a k u n in , the N e w K n o w le d g e Class, and the E g a lita ria n ism o f G racchus B a h e uf B akunin saw the transition from capitalism to M a rxist socialism as a c ir­ culation o f elites in w h ich the old bourgeoisie w ould be supplanted not by a new democracy b u t by a new elite o f the educated, those w ith cu ltu ra l capital, a N ew Class. T h e revolutionary dictatorship envisaged by the M arxists, said B akunin, means “ . . . the ru lin g o f the m ajority by the m in o rity in the name o f the alleged superior intelligence o f the second.” 33 T h e new society w ill be “ n o th in g else but despotic rule over the to ilin g masses by a new, num erically small aristocracy o f sham or genuine scientists,” 34 said B akunin, not that even genuine scientists were acknowledged as having any rig h t to impose their rule. T he M arx-

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ists w ill then divide the society in to “ two armies—in d u stria l and agricul­ tural armies under the direct command o f the state engineers w ho w ill constitute the new privileged scientific-political class.” 35 T h e k in d o f state envisaged by M arx, w hich controls and plans the entire economy, requires vast knowledge. It w ill be the reign of the scientific mind, the most aristocratic, despotic, arrogant and contemptuous of all regimes. There w ill be a new class, a new hierarchy of real and bogus learning, and the world w ill be divided into a dominant, science-based m inority and a vast ignorant majority. And then let the masses beware.36 Since almost any socially reproduced in e q u a lity could constitute the basis o f a class system in w hich one class exploits and dominates the other, then fo r B akunin knowledge was essentially a form o f hum an capital acquired largely through education. Those w ho possessed it w ould constitute a N ew Class that was to be the elite o f the kin d o f society that M a rxist socialism was seen as preparing. Is it not evident [asks Bakunin] . . . that out of two persons endowed w ith a nearly equal natural intelligence, the one who knows more, whose mind has been broadened to a greater extent by science and who, having a better understanding of the interlinking system of natural and social facts . . . w ill grasp more readily and in a broader lig h t the char­ acter of the environment in which he finds himself . . . that in practice he w ill prove the cleverer and the stronger of the twor1 I t stands to rea­ son that the one who knows more w ill dominate the one who knows less. I f there were to begin w ith, only this difference in upbringing and edu­ cation between the two classes, it would in itself produce in a compara­ tively short time all the other differences and human society . . . would be split up again into a mass of slaves and a small number of masters. . . . So long as there exists two or several degrees of education for vari­ ous layers of society, there inevitably w ill be classes in existence. . . .37 B akunin thus saw class privilege d e rivin g as m uch from cu ltu ra l capi­ tal acquired through education, as from moneyed capital. Indeed, he expressly invokes the m etaphor that education is a form o f capital: “ W h a t is education, i f not m ental capital, the sum o f the m ental labor o f a ll past generations^” 38 I t was as H e n ri T o la in had also said expressly, those having the capital o f the “ diplom a,” w ho ought to be excluded as delegates to the congresses o f the I.W .A ., no less than the moneyed capitalists. I f class constitution is now seen as generated by knowledge differences reproduced by in stitu tio n a lize d education, then clearly it was not to be expected that the mere expropriation o f capital w ould suffice to usher in

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a classless society. T h e revolution, then, could not p rim a rily be a revolu­ tion against capital, as Engels described the M a rxist position, nor could it o n ly be a revolution chiefly against the state, as Engels had described B a ku n in ’s position. A tru ly equitable classless society required a ‘ cul­ tural re v o lu tio n /’ to use a term employed only m uch later by M ao, yet in tim a te ly connected w ith the logic o f B a ku n in s position. T h is meant that the revolution w ould have to be directed not o n ly against the bour­ geoisie or the state, b u t also and im m ediately against educational in s titu ­ tions and indeed science itself. I t had to be, in the term Bakunin pre­ ferred, a “ liq u id a tio n ” o f bourgeois culture and civiliza tio n itself, not sim ply a destruction o f the state apparatus or the expropriation o f the bourgeoisie. A new integral education was necessary fo r a new moral and rational man. A n d new controls over the educated and the scientist were also u rg en tly necessary i f class privileges were not soon to creep back in . W h a t was needed, in short, was a cu ltu ra l revolution. (W h ile B a ku n in ’s suspicion o f science and scientists was unrelenting, he seems at one p o in t to have assured W agner that he had no animus against music, or, at least, w ould not burn his m usic.) W h ile Bakunin rejected the destruction o f science39 as a “ hig h crim e against h u m a n ity,” he in ­ sisted that the scientific intelligentsia w ould, like the priesthood, “ form a separate caste” and that “ it w ould be better fo r those masses to dis­ pense w ith science altogether than to allow themselves to be governed w ith men o f science.” 40 So w h ile Bakunin denied that he sought to destroy science, he did not boggle at a kin d o f m oratorium or stasis o f science, as necessary fo r his cu ltu ra l revolution. “ I t is possible and even probable,” he adm itted, “ that in the more or less prolonged transitional period, w hich w ill n a tu ra lly fo llo w in the wake o f the great social crisis, sciences o f the highest standing w ill sink to a level m uch below that held by each at pres­ ent. . . .” N o r was this “ eclipse o f the higher sciences . . . a great m isfortune [fo r] w hat science loses in sublim e loftiness, w ill it not regain by broadening its base . . . there w ill be no demi-gods, but n e ith er w ill there be slaves.” 41 It becomes clear at this ju n ctu re that the inte lle ctu a l roots o f Baku­ n in ’s cu ltu ra l revolution in the name o f e q uality have th e ir ultim ate grounding in Rousseau and th e ir more im m ediate roots in the doctrines o f his avid student Gracchus Babeuf. Babeuf’s associate, Sylvan M arechal, in his M anifeste des Egaux declared equality “ the first p rin cip le o f nature,” demanded “ equality or death,” promised that the French revo­ lu tio n was “ o n ly the forerunner o f another, even greater . . . ,” and swore that “ For the true and liv in g equality we shall give up everything. L e t the arts perish, i f need be!” 42

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In his defense against the charge o f conspiracy, Babeuf h im se lf argued that the g u lf between rich and poor proceeded in part from the d iffe r­ ence in value and price assigned to skilled and unskilled labor, m ain­ ta in in g that “ the plea o f superior a b ility and in d u stry is an em pty rationalization to mask the rationalizations o f those w ho conspire against hum an equality and happiness. I t is ridiculous and u n fa ir to lay claim to a higher wage fo r the man whose w ork requires more concentrated thought and more m ental effort. . . . T h e w orth o f intelligence is o n ly a m atter o f opinion. . . . C lever people have set a high value upon the creations o f th e ir m inds; i f the toilers had also had a hand in the order­ in g o f things, they w ould doubtless have insisted that brawn is e n title d to equal consideration w ith brain. . . .” 43 T h is egalitarian critiq u e o f wage differences is a ll the more notable considering the backgrounds o f Babeuf and his comrades. Babeuf him self had, u n til the revolution, lived in com fortable circumstances, w orkin g as a commissaire a terrier—a kin d o f legal clerk, and keeper o f the m anorial tax rolls—and was o n ly later to become a peasant leader, journalist, and perhaps the first professional revolutionary. O f his fe llo w defendants at th e ir Vendom e tria l in 1797, m any were artisans and “ the m a jo rity . . . gave th e ir professions as laceworker, em broiderer, clockmaker, p rin te r, turner, goldsm ith, weaver, shoemaker. . . / >44 Babeuf was also quite clear n o t o n ly in seeing a parallel between p ri­ vate property and culture as forms o f th e ft, as privilege-bestow ing ad­ vantages that corrupted e quality and therefore needed to be abolished, but, interestingly, Babeuf had also clearly verged on the notion o f cu ltu re as a kin d o f capital: “ the creations o f the hum an hand and m ind become the property o f society, part o f the nation s capital. . . . In ve n tio n is the fru it o f p rio r investigation and effort. T h e most recent workers in the field reap th e ir reward as a result o f the social labors o f th e ir pre­ decessors in a society, that nurtures invention and that aids the scientific w orker in his task. I t is clear that i f knowledge is a social product it m ust be shared by all alike.” 45 I t is notew orthy that this fo rm u la tio n is not o n ly grounded in the premise that private property is in general a form o f th e ft that needs to be restrained or abolished, b u t is insistently extended to culture and knowledge and to those possessing them . In this, Babeuf was (as he fu lly acknowledged) a devoted student o f Rous­ seau46 and not a poor student, at that, i f one remembers Rousseau’s p rize -w in n in g essay in the D ijo n com petition in w hich he rejected the idea that the arts and sciences necessarily m eant a prospering o f hum an manners and welfare. L ik e B akunin, Babeuf before h im also held that education needed to be revised:

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. . . if knowledge were made available to all alike, it would serve to make men roughly equal in ability and even in talent. Education is a monstrosity when it is unequally shared, since then it becomes the ex­ clusive patrimony of a section of society . . . an ideological armory w ith the help of which the privileged make war upon the defenseless masses.47 B a ku n in ’s theory o f the N e w Class, as a new elite privileged by culture and knowledge w ho could not be controlled m erely by the abolition o f private property in money and things, b u t required a kind o f “ cu ltu ra l re vo lu tio n ” against unequal knowledge and the educational in stitu tio n s producing it, thus has its in te lle ctu a l roots here in the M anifesto of the Equals, in Babeuf, and u ltim a te ly in Rousseau. T h e requirem ents o f B akunin’s cu ltu ra l revolution no less than Ba­ beuf’s p u t science its e lf at risk. Under the historic, juridical, religious, and social organization of most civilized countries, the economic emancipation of the workers is a sheer im possibility—and consequently, in order to attain and fu lly carry out that emancipation, it is necessary to destroy all modern institutions: the State, Church, Courts, University, Army, and Police, all of which are ramparts erected by the privileged classes against the proletariat.48 B a ku n in ’s revolution thus involved the most radical rupture w ith bour­ geois cu ltu re and was not to be lim ite d to a w ar against its state and bourgeois dom ination o f the economy. In this respect, there is absolutely no counterpart in M a rx and Engels. For however m uch they detested other intellectuals as “ lackeys” and ideologues o f the bourgeoisie—espe­ cia lly i f they were com petitors seeking influence among the w orkin g class—M a rx and Engels com m only thought o f socialism as carrying fo r­ ward and em bodying the best o f bourgeois culture. As N icolaievsky and M aenchen-H elfen h o ld : In Marx's eyes the revolution was the m idwife of the new society which had formed in the womb of the old, and a new and higher culture would be the heir of the old culture, preserving and developing all the past attainments of humanity. For Bakunin the revolution meant a radi­ cal annihilation of existing society. . . . Bakunin dreamed of a “gigantic bonfire of London, Paris and Berlin." H is was . . . not just the [hatred of] . . . prison and tax office but everything w ithout exception, includ­ ing schools and libraries and museums.49 T h e p o in t, however, was that B akunin saw cu ltu re and education as a grounding o f privilege and dom ination and the nucleus o f an exploita­ tive N e w Class, so that dom ination could not be extirpated from society

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except by the lite ra l leveling o f culture its e lf—at least fo r a long period o f transition. In contrast, M a rx him self took d e lig h t in the highest achievements o f European culture. H e read tw o or three novels at a tim e, absorbing his Aeschylus in the o rig in a l Greek, was devoted to Shakespeare, enjoyed Balzac and Cervantes, took refuge in algebra, and w rote an in fin ite sim a l calculus. As he w rote his daughter Laura in 1868, I am, he said, “ a m achine condemned to devour books.” A product o f the Germ an U n i­ versity system, a member o f the “ Doctors’ C lu b ,” and him self a doctor, w hen M a rx thundered against the intelligentsia he com m only com­ plained about th e ir inte lle ctu a l incompetence. Rather than seeking a leveling o f any kin d , he demanded superior levels o f inte lle ctu a l perfor­ mance from them . H e com plained, as Babeuf had, about the unequal or hig h value placed on intellectuals’ w ork b u t, in fact, held fo rth the pros­ pect o f a society in w hich rewards w ould be distributed (a t least fo r a w h ile ) on a m eritocratic p rin cip le that w ould favor the learned: From each according to his w ork, to each according to his a b ility. L ike M a rx, B akunin believed that hum an em ancipation required the socialization o f the means o f production. U n lik e h im , however, B akunin insisted that this alone could not suffice. D om ination in its various forms, especially those grounded in the w ill to power, in the state, and in d if­ ferences in knowledge rooted in differences in education, also needed to be exorcised in that w ide-ranging cu ltu ra l revolution that B akunin called “ social liq u id a tio n .” For B akunin, w h ile economic exploitation and p riv i­ lege are o f crucial im portance, they are o n ly one case o f dom ination. One notes (again in passing) how the F ra n k fu rt School converges here w ith B akunin, both focusing on a more general “ dom ination,” not ju st on economic exploitation. Jurgen Habermas’s quest fo r the “ ideal speech situ a tio n,” seen as an effort to uproot not ju st differences in form al edu­ cation or high theoretical culture but, more radically, in the practical rea­ son o f the everyday life , is a lin e a l descendant less o f M a rx than o f Ba­ k u n in ’s struggle against the N e w Class’s educational privileges.

B a ku n in s V oluntarism vs . M arx's D eterm inism T h e e vil against w hich B akunin had aimed his revolutionary project, going beyond economic exploitation to a ll forms o f dom ination seen as embedded u ltim a te ly in the w ill to power, was a more form idable and intransigent foe than the one M a rx had conjured up. I t was more his­ to rica lly pervasive than the economic kin d o f exploitation on w hich M a rx focused his studies o f capitalism , being entrenched in hum an na-

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ture itself. In e vita b ly then, B a ku n in ’s optim ism must be more restrained than M a rx ’s, i f not containing a hidden vein o f pessimism. B a ku n in ’s diagnosis o f the hum an condition could lead h im to a position adjoining the tragic itself, fo r it addresses an enemy that is universal i f not eternal. I t is clearly an enemy he could have hoped to vanquish o n ly w ith the most extraordinary exertions, being an adversary w ith countless h id in g places in every hum an sp irit. Indeed, such an enemy m igh t w e ll drive its adversary to the most desperate measures. In contrast, M arxism had gathered strength precisely from its focus on the histo rica lly lim ite d , hence more readily vanquishable, forms o f ex­ p lo ita tio n o f capitalism , w h ile tu rn in g its back on m ankind’s more an­ cient enemies. M arxism had thus won its optim ism at the cost o f a mea­ sure o f realism. B a ku n in ’s realism, however, also had a price: it was won at the cost o f rejecting the reassuring if g lib conviction that “ history is on our side” and, indeed, by p u ttin g hum an hope its e lf at risk. Such vic­ tories as revolutionaries m ig h t achieve, B akunin held, w ould result from the suffering in flicte d by a society w hich outraged the hum an demand o f justice, fo r the passion fo r justice was as deeply rooted in hum an beings as th e ir im pulse to “ live and prosper at the expense o f others.” 50 In the last analysis, the revolutionary struggle was not only a struggle against society and an e xp lo itin g class b u t was also a struggle w ith in the hum an sp irit in w hich m a n kin d ’s opposing impulses—justice versus power—were p itte d against one another. T h e outcome depended greatly, therefore, on hum an exertion, organization, and capacity fo r sacrifice; victory w ould thus never be secure sim ply by a change in social structures b u t also re­ quired a change w ith in persons. T h e new society demanded a new man w ith a new consciousness, no less than new institu tio ns. There was, therefore, a systematic and e xp licit voluntarism in B akunin, u n like the embarrassed and subterranean voluntarism in M a rx, whose theoretical presence was occluded by, because dissonant w ith , S cientific M arxism ’s determ inism . T h e trouble w ith M arxism , declared B akunin, is that it sees “ all hu ­ man history . . . [as] the inevitable result o f economic phenomena . . . the economic m aterial phenomena constitute the essential basis, the m ain foundation, w h ile all the others—the inte lle ctu a l and m oral, p o litica l and social phenomena—fo llo w as a derivative from the form er.” 51 In ca llin g him self a m aterialist, B akunin, then, d id not in vid io u sly counterpose “ so­ cial being” to consciousness or production to ideology. B akunin conceived o f m aterialism precisely as Georg Lukacs had understood M a rx ’s h isto ri­ cal m aterialism , i.e., as a philosophy o f the “ to ta lity ” rather than as an economic determ inism :

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By these words matter and material we understand the totality, the hierarchy of real entities, beginning w ith the most organic bodies and ending w ith the structure and functioning of the brain of the greatest genius: the most sublime feelings, the greatest thoughts, the most heroic acts, acts of self-sacrifice, duties as well as rights, the voluntary renuncia­ tion of ones own welfare, of one’s egoism . . . all that constitutes in our view so many different but at the same time interlinked evolutions of that totality of the real world which we call matter.52 T h is to ta lity that is the concern o f the m aterialist “ does not by any means exclude, b u t on the contrary, necessarily embraces the ideal w orld as w e ll.” 53 B akunin, then, is no idealist b u t a voluntarist. H e does not, that is, believe that m ind, sp irit, or ideals p rim a rily determ ine or control hum an conduct but, rather, that they constitute a real part o f the hum an situa­ tion and that th e ir interaction w ith other parts constitutes the “ to ta lity ” w h ich shapes outcomes. Persons could thus not achieve whatever they wished, whenever they wished it. W ill and consciousness are im portant and make an im portant difference in outcomes b u t are not “ free.” “ . . . [W ]e absolutely deny the existence o f free w ill.” 54 “ Socialism, being founded upon positive science, absolutely rejects the doctrine o f ‘free w ill/ ” 55 W ill itself, held B akunin, is grounded in need. Yet the hum an species are unique in having the power o f speech and, especially, o f ab­ straction.56 T hus the hum an species is grounded in needs as transform ed by ideals. W h ile people cannot liberate themselves from th e ir needs, ex­ cept by suicide, they can m o d ify these in the lig h t o f th e ir notions o f justice and beauty. Being grounded in m ans unique species endowm ent, the hum an w ill can attain “ ever greater progress and perfection.” 57 U p to a p o in t, a man “ can become his own educator, his own instructor, as w e ll as creator. B u t . . . w hat he acquires is o n ly a relative independence.” 58 Yet precisely because the w ill is not free, and is subjected to enormous social pressures, it is likew ise exposed to and shaped by society's in ju s­ tices and the suffering it in flicts. T h u s “ society itself, by its positive and negative action, generates free thought in man and, in tu rn , it is society w h ich often crushes it.” 59 In consequence, free w ill and thought are n o t in great supply, and here B akunin s voluntarism has an interface w ith its own brand o f e litism : “ Am ong a thousand people one can hardly fin d a single person o f w hom it can be said . . . that he w ills and thinks independently.” 60 Yet there are some i f not m any persons w ho can w ith ­ stand the social pressure toward conform ity and w ho, w hen brought to­ gether and organized effectively, can constitute a revolutionary cadre o f decisive im portance in moments o f revolutionary crisis, “ . . . [R e v o lu ­ tions are not im provised. T h e y are not made a rb itra rily by in d ivid u a ls nor

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even by the most pow erful association. T h e y come independently o f w ill and all conspiracies and they are always brought on by the natural forces o f circum stance."61 In these moments o f great crisis “ . . . ten, tw enty, or th irty w e ll organized persons, acting in concert and know ing where they are going and w hat they w ant can easily carry along a hundred, two hundred, or three hundred people, or even more. . . ."62 T hus as a vol­ untarist, Bakunin understands the course and developm ent, but not the emergence, o f revolution, to be influenced by a conscious vanguard who guide the new energies then unleashed in the lig h t o f their special, posi­ tive knowledge. Bakunin's “ good society," then, does not center, as M arx's d id, on heightening production and p ro d u ctivity because the central evil in B akunin's theory was n o t—as it was in M arx's—scarcity; and the central tem ptation was not that provoked by scarcity but, rather, the tem ptations o f dom ination and o f power. T h e central task, then, is not to cultivate the forces o f production nor is the central strategic emphasis, as it was fo r M a rx, a w a itin g fo r the forces o f production to be revolutionized by the bourgeoisie, before co m m itting the cadres to the revolution. T he goal was a new man w ith a new m orality able to control his im pulse toward dom ination and the w ill to power. Bakunin's conception o f revolution sees em ancipation as in part m otivated and guided by the p u rsu it o f cer­ tain values, and as in part concerned to reconstruct the social environ­ m ent so that men w ill become and behave more m orally. Since persons are shaped by nature and society, however, “ to make men m oral it is necessary to make th e ir environm ent m oral." B akunin's basic premise is that o f the E nlightenm ent, nam ely that the ground must first be cleared o f the old regime, and that this is the decisive step in social transform a­ tion. U n lik e the eighteenth-century fh ilo so fh e s, however, B akunin does not believe that persons are in h e re n tly good, so that i f the ancient superstitutions and the in stitu tio n s supporting them are erased, the autom atic d rift w ill then be progressive and benign. For even then the b lig h t o f dom ination w ill s till hang over men and they w ill remain tempted by the apple o f power. T h e environm ent must thus be reconstructed so as to assure the triu m p h o f justice, that is, “ the complete lib e rty o f every­ one in the most perfect equality fo r a ll."63 Bakunin's decisive values were lib e rty and equality, each being given generalized em phatic and articu­ late com m itm ent in contrast to M arx's contrasting treatm ent, w hich tends to emphasize the derivative superstructural character o f m orality, the his­ to rica lly lim ite d and emergent character o f rights, th e ir lin k to the bour­ geoisie, and th e ir role as a mask fo r class privilege and oppression. Even in a socialist society, M a rx calls only fo r a d istrib u tive p rin cip le re q u ir­ in g “ from each according to his a b ility, to each according to his w o rk,"

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later to be superseded in the more m ature com m unism by allocation on the basis o f need. In neither case, however, w ould d istrib u tio n be equal and indeed M a rx stresses that, since persons d iffe r so m uch in m ental and physical constitution, treating them equally is only a form o f in ­ equality.64 W h ile M a rx insisted on the developm ent o f certain social requisites before socialism could be achieved, most especially the heightening o f p ro d u ctivity through modern in d u stria l technology, Bakunin d id not be­ lieve that the revolution needed to w a it fo r this m aturation o f in d u stria l power.65 M a rx was a m odernizer w ho relied on technology and science to overcome scarcity so that history could take its next step forw ard to so­ cialism . B akunin, however, d id not so m uch seek a more productive, ma­ te ria lly richer and com fortable society b u t a more equitable one in w hich people at least shared equally in whatever there was, however little this was. I f M a rx rejected that societies were more or less backward in terms o f the in d u stria l developm ent and m odernization o f th e ir economies, Ba­ ku n in never saw large-scale in d u stry as em ancipatory. T o the contrary— and in the anarchist tradition congenial to artisans—he wanted small-scale groups fo r w ork and residential purposes, federated w ith one another on the basis o f voluntary m utual collaboration, rather than being h ie ra rch i­ cally organized in large-scale units that were centrally planned and ad­ m inistered. M a rx relied on bourgeois societies (u n w ittin g ly ) to lay the foundations o f socialism, where B akunin saw tra d itio n a list societies as having a greater potential fo r revolution and socialism than d id M a rx. C orrespondingly, M a rx accented the revolutionary role o f the urban pro­ letariat and tended to deprecate the peasantry, w h ile B akunin, although accepting the vanguard role o f the proletariat in the revolution, fe lt that the peasantry, too, approached correctly, also had great potential fo r revo­ lu tio n .

T h e Class Basis o f the R evolution A popular stereotype o f B akunin—more distorted by its decisive omis­ sions than in w hat it says—m istakenly emphasizes that B akunin, like W e itlin g , relied greatly upon brigands and the “ lum penproletariat” fo r his revolutionary cadres, upon the peasantry (because o f th e ir viole n t Pougatovtchina), and upon student intellectuals. In this fa m ilia r vein, Paul Thom as w rites that B akunin was attracted to the peasantry as a revolutionary force because o f its propensity “ to unorganized, in d iscrim i­ nate violence.” Thom as also cites B akunin s flo rid encomiums to b rig ­ andage where, in a path-breaking w ork that E ric Hobsbawn w ould later elaborate as a theory o f “ p rim itiv e rebellion,” B akunin held that brigands

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represented the desperate protest o f the people against the h orrible so­ cial order o f the tim e. . . . T h e brigand in Russia, is the true and o n ly revolutionary. . . “ Bakunin believed that the socially outcast, the m arginal, the outlaw and the crim in a l,” says Thomas, “ shared w ith the oppressed an exem plary victim ization and an exem plary desire fo r ven­ geance and propensity fo r violence,” also adding that Bakunin “ assigned a m ajor role to disaffected students and m arginal intellectuals. . . .” 66 T h e tru th is substantially d iffe re n t, not because Bakunin was unat­ tracted to brigands, students, or the peasantry, but because Thom as fails to see that Bakunin was more o f a M a rxist than he, Thomas, intim ates. N o t restricting the revolution to those societies in w hich an advanced industrialism had produced a massive urban proletariat, Bakunin ob­ served sensibly that the class com position o f the revolution was bound to d iffe r in in d u s tria lly advanced W estern Europe and in Eastern Europe where the economy was s till largely ag ricu ltu ra l. In Eastern and W est­ ern Europe, the revolution's class com position w ill d iffe r: “T h e in itia tiv e in the new movement w ill belong to the people . . . in W estern E u ­ rope, to the c ity and factory workers—in Russia, Poland, and most o f the slavic countries, to the peasants.” 67 Yet even in Eastern Europe, insisted B akunin, “ I t is absolutely necessary that the in itia tiv e in this revolu­ tio n a ry movement be taken by the c ity workers, fo r it is the latte r who com bine in themselves the instincts, ideas, and conscious w ill o f the So­ cial R evolution.” 68 Even in Eastern Europe, then, both peasantry and proletariat were necessary fo r the social re vo lu tio n : “ A n uprising by the proletariat alone w ould not be enough” and this w ould send the peasantry either in to open opposition or passive resistance, and they w ould then “ strangle the revolution in the cities. . . .” 69 T h is was a foreshadowing o f w hat, indeed, the peasantry attem pted after the October R evolution and to w h ich Stalinism was a brutal and bloody response. “ O n ly a widesweeping revolution em bracing both the c ity workers and peasants w ould be su fficie n tly strong to overthrow and break the organised power o f the state, backed as it is by all the resources o f the possessing classes.” 70 T h is is a fa r cry, then, from the conventional stereotype among some M arxists o f Bakunin-the-anarchist w ho relied exclusively on the backward peasantry and ignored the proletariat. B akunin, however, took realistic note o f the m utual suspicions between urban proletariat and ru ral peas­ antry, believing that, in Eastern Europe at any rate, successful revolution required that these be faced and dealt w ith appropriately. “ . . . [T ]h e peasants w ill jo in the cause o f the c ity workers,” B akunin held, “ as soon as they become convinced that the latte r do not intend to impose upon them th e ir w ill or some p o litica l and social order invented by the cities. . . .” H e adds that they w ill jo in the revolution “ as soon as they

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are assured that the in d u stria l workers w ill not take th e ir lands away. I t is altogether necessary at the present m om ent that the city workers really re­ nounce this claim . . . ."71 In a thrust at the M arxists, B akunin declared that “ T o the Com m unists, or Social Democrats o f Germ any, the peasantry, any peasantry stands fo r reaction. . . . A n d in this hatred fo r the peas­ ant rebellion, the M arxists jo in in touching u n a n im ity all the layers and parties o f the bourgeois society o f G e rm a n y/'72 T h ro u g h o u t th e ir lives, M a rx and Engels had indeed steadfastly ad­ hered to ju st such views. C ondem ning peasantry as a reactionary “ sack o f potatoes," they planned to nationalize all land and to tu rn it over to the state w hich w ould then m obilize large a g ricultural armies in the countryside. The proletariat w ill use its political supremacy [declared the Communist Manifesto] to wrest, by degrees, all capital from the bourgeoisie, to cen­ tralize all instruments of production in the hands of the State . . . in the beginning, this cannot be effected except by despotic inroads on the rights of property . . . in the most advanced countries the follow ing w ill be pretty generally applicable: 1. Abolition of property in land . . . Establishment of industrial armies, especially for agriculture.73 Since M a rx and Engels never repudiated th e ir policy o f n a tio na lizin g the peasants' land b u t reiterated it, th e ir policy fo r a worker-peasant a lli­ ance, under the form er's leadership, could never effectively be achieved. (E ssentially the contradiction between these two policies was never re­ solved b u t only concealed in the T h ird W o rld by revolutionaries w ho could u n ite the nation under th e ir leadership on the basis o f nationalist, anti-im perialist, anti-colonialist, and ethnic solidarities.) For B akunin, it seemed self-evident that the revolution, even in East­ ern Europe, required the u n ity o f peasantry and c ity workers because o f the latter's more advanced consciousness. A t the same tim e, however, this very superiority may have induced c ity workers to impose themselves arrogantly on the countryside: “ It is the pretended or real superiority o f intelligence or education . . . o f workers' civiliza tio n over that o f the rural p o p ula tio n "74 that disposes workers to impose th e ir w ill. T h e so­ cialism o f city workers, then, is an ambiguous th in g e n ta ilin g a certain em ancipation yet also fostering a sense o f superiority by townspeople, even workers, toward w hat M a rx had once called “ ru ral id io cy." T h e socialism o f the c ity w orker not only has an e litis t potential b u t is, sug­ gests Bakunin ( in anti-urban form ulations later to be echoed in Castro­ ism ), an effete and decadent im pulse especially in comparison w ith v il­ lagers' natural, even savage im pulse toward re b e llio n :

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. . . the more enlightened, more civilized Socialism of the city workers, a socialism which because of this very circumstance takes on a somewhat bourgeois character, slights and scorns the prim itive natural and much more savage Socialism of the villages, and since it distrusts the latter, it always tries to restrain it, to oppress it in the name of equality and free­ dom, which naturally makes for dense ignorance about city Socialism on the part of the peasants, who confound this socialism w ith the bourgeois spirit of the cities. The peasant regards the industrial workers as a bour­ geois lackey or as a soldier of the bourgeoisie . . . so much that he him ­ self becomes the servant and blind tool of reaction.75 B akunin thus regarded M a rx ’s socialism as a bourgeois socialism—not because M arxism sought to secure the fu tu re o f the bourgeois economy or its bourgeois proprietors but, rather, because Bakunin fe lt M arxism was im bued w ith bourgeois sentiments and culture and expressed the elite am bitions o f a N e w Class o f intellectuals that had grown out o f the old moneyed capitalists. T o grasp w hat B akunin regarded as M a rx ’s bourgeois sentim ents one need o n ly recall the flo rid encomiums to pro­ gressive capitalism expressed in the C om m unist M anifesto and compare them w ith B a ku n in ’s own more somber judgm ent on the bourgeoisie. Despite its fin a l condem nation o f the bourgeoisie, when it reached (and fo r having reached) its m oribund state, the M anifesto's praise o f the bourgeoisie’s em ancipatory historical role is barely less than a celebration: The bourgeoisie . . . has been the first to show what man’s activity can bring about. It has accomplished wonders far surpassing Egyptian pyra­ mids, Roman aquaducts, and Gothic cathedrals; it has conducted expedi­ tions that put in the shade all former Exoduses of nations and crusades. . . . The bourgeoisie, during its rule of scarce one hundred years, has created more massive and more colossal productive forces than have all preceding generations together. Subjection of nature’s forces to man, machinery, railways, electric telegraphs, clearing of whole continents for cultivation, canalization of rivers, whole populations conjured out of the ground—what earlier century had even a presentiment that such produc­ tive forces slumbered in the lap of social labor?76 In contrast to M a rx ’s m em orialization o f the bourgeoisie fo r having revolutionized p ro d u ctivity, B a ku n in ’s more tempered appreciation o f the bourgeoisie praised them fo r having engendered revolutions against the crown, the aristocracy, and the church, and for having once been the em­ bodim ent o f the hope fo r fra te rn ity and u n io n —at least p rio r to 1793. In those days o f its vigor, the bourgeoisie is praised fo r having supported “ the great principles o f lib e rty, equality, fra te rn ity, reason, and hum an justice. . . .” 77 Such technical progress as the bourgeoisie brought, men-

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tions B akunin, b rie fly benefited ‘ o n ly the privileged classes and the power o f the states . . . they have never benefited the masses o f the p e o ple /'78 W h ile Bakunin had no M a rxist contem pt either fo r brigands as a “ lum penproletariat” —the passively ro ttin g “ social scum "—or a suspicion o f peasants as a doomed and reactionary class—B akunin's position is con­ vergent w ith M arx's. H e views the revolution as grounded in an a lli­ ance between the peasantry and the proletariat. T h e latte r are the more “ conscious" elem ent and the form er, having retained th e ir fo lk in te g rity , are the more natural, in stin ctive , and necessarily “ savage" in th e ir rebel­ lio n . Far from ig n o rin g the proletariat, then, or subordinating them to the peasantry in the revolution, B akunin insisted that “ . . . in order that the peasants rise in rebellion, it is absolutely necessary that the c ity workers take upon themselves the in itia tiv e in this revolutionary move­ m ent . . . ,"79 although rejecting any doctrinaire assumption that the revolutionary alliance and leadership w ould be identical everywhere in the w orld. B akunin, then, was a post-M arxist M arxist, w ho readily took w hat he thought valid from M arx's oeuvre b u t fe lt no im pulse to canon­ ize it. U n lik e M a rx, w ho knew o n ly W estern Europe, B akunin knew and knew at first-hand both W estern and Eastern Europe, and he under­ stood at once that M arx's theory had been lim ite d by the special condi­ tions o f its o rigin and developm ent.

B akunin vs. M a rx: R evolution as N egation, R evolution as “ A u fh e b u n g " H o w B akunin had conceived revolution, and w hat its requisites m ig h t be, were n a tu ra lly enough connected issues. H a vin g conceived the revo­ lu tio n as a radical break w ith the past and as the extirpation o f previous inequities, Bakunin envisaged it as a k in d o f destructive “ liq u id a tio n ," akin to the philosophes conception o f ecraser Vinfame—a n n ih ila te ( liq ­ uidated) the mess. B akunin believed that before there could be substan­ tia l forw ard movement, the in iq u ito u s past had first to be liq u ida te d and that this its e lf was the decisive prerequisite o f subsequent progress. So revolution was not viewed as som ething w h ich had a requisite, b u t as clearing the ground fo r the subsequent liberation. T h is, o f course, is quite d iffe re n t from M a rx, whose decisive charac­ teristic as a scientific socialist is—as he admonishes B akunin—the idea that economic conditions, the m aturation o f the in d u stria l economy, and not “ w ill," are the foundation o f the social revolution. In his notes about Bakunin's Statehood and Anarchy, M a rx fulm inates:

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Schoolboy drive! A radical social revolution is connected w ith certain historical conditions of economic development; the latter are its presup­ positions. Therefore it is possible only where the industrial proletariat, together w ith capitalist production, occupies at least a substantial place in the mass of the people. . . . H err Bakunin . . . understands abso­ lutely nothing about social revolution; all he knows are its political phrases. For him its economic requisites do not exist. Since all hitherto existing economic formations, developed or undeveloped, have included the enslavement of the working person (whether in the form of the wage worker, the peasant, etc.), he thinks that a radical revolution is possible under all these formations. N ot only that! He wants a Euro­ pean social revolution, resting on the economic foundation of capitalist production, to take place on the level of the Russian or Slavic agricul­ tural or pastoral peoples and not to overstep that level. . . . W ill power and not economic conditions is the basis of his social revolution.80 For M arx, then, social revolution was not a destructive b u t a construc­ tive action, a kin d o f deliverance from a m oribund social system. T he com m unist served as a m id w ife to the new system w hich had been gestating, and had fin a lly m atured, in the wom b o f the old regime. M a rx basically believed that this revolution consisted o f destroying the old state apparatus, then taking over the technologically advanced in d u stria l basis developed under capitalism and placing it under the direction o f the new state, the dictatorship o f the proletariat. T h is, for him , was the decisive act from w hich a ll else w ould fo llo w . T h e old division o f labor and the old culture w ith its d istin ctio n between m ental and m anual la­ b o r-w h ile u ltim a te ly to be scrapped—w ould survive in this reckoning, fo r a long w hile . There was to be no cu ltu ra l revolution concom itant w ith the p o litica l; the in d u stria l p la n t and equipm ent developed by the bourgeoisie were in effect to be placed under a new management, w ith the smashing o f the old state and the bourgeoisies expropriation. For “ H e rr B a ku n in ,” however, the object was not a lim ite d excision of bour­ geois proprietorship, b u t the veritable “ a n n ih ila tio n o f bourgeois civiliza ­ tio n ” where revolution-in-perm anence w ould pursue unending c iv il strife through perm anent “ cu ltu ra l re vo lu tio n .” B akunin expected that the revolution w ould usher in at once a “ fu ll and complete social liq u id a tio n /’ and he opposed any revolution that al­ lowed the p o litica l to precede the social and economic transform ation: “ . . . both have to be made at the same tim e . . . ,” he insisted.81 For M a rx, the essential requisite o f the revolution w ould be the m aturation o f in d u stry that had developed n a tu ra lly and w ith o u t plan in the m idst o f bourgeois society. For B akunin, the revolution itse lf was the first requi-

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site o f social transform ation. A fte r the lib e ra tin g social liq u id a tio n it brings, there is a protracted struggle d u rin g w hich this beginning is con­ solidated. “ It is necessary to overthrow that w hich is,” said B akunin, “ in order to be able to establish that w hich should be.” 82 B akunin observed— as against M a rx ’s stress on the im portance o f the re vo lu tio n ’s economic requisites—that “ even poverty and despondency are not sufficient to pro­ voke a social revolution. . . . T h a t can take place o n ly when the people have a general idea o f th e ir rights and a deep, passionate, one m ig h t even say religious, fa ith in th e ir rights.” 83 W h ic h is precisely w hy, fo r Ba­ ku n in , the revolution must “ have economic equality as its im m ediate and direct aim ” 84 and not the m obilization o f power, conquest o f the old state, or expropriation o f the bourgeoisie. T h is is the authentic anticipation o f later W estern “ C ritic a l M arxism ,” o f Georg Lukacs’s self-styled “ revolu­ tionary messianism,” o f Gram sci’s and the C ouncil C om m unists’ M a rx ­ ism, w hich also insisted that economic conditions d id not suffice fo r so­ cial revolution and that a change o f consciousness was necessary. T h is begins to suggest that Bakunin was the first articulate C ritic a l M a rxist; that C ritic a l M arxism is grounded in w hat S cientific M arxists sim plistically condemned as “ anarchism ” and in the entire tra d ition going back from Bakunin to W e itlin g . P ut otherwise, C ritic a l M arxism is repressed (n o t repressed “ by” b u t) in M arxism because it is ide n tifie d w ith , and historically embedded in this continuous sequence o f p o litica l adversaries that M a rx faced and fought. T h e revolution fo r Bakunin was thus first o f a ll to be an act o f th o r­ oughgoing destruction; going w ell beyond a p o litica l or even economic change, it w ould level the ground fo r a new beginning: “ In order to h u ­ manize society as a whole, it is necessary ruthlessly to destroy all the causes, and all the economic, p o litica l, and social conditions w h ich pro­ duce w ith in individuals that tra d ition o f e v il.” 85 I f M arxism is a paean to p ro du ctivity, B akuninism was thus a hym n to destruction. “ On the Pan-German banner [B a ku n in ’s code-name fo r M arxism ] is w ritte n : Re­ tention and S trengthening o f the State at any cost. On our banner, on the contrary, are inscribed in fiery and bloody letters: the destruction o f all states, the a n n ih ila tio n o f bourgeois civiliza tio n , free and spontaneous organization from below upward, by means o f free associations, the organization o f the unbridled rabble o f toilers. . . .” 86 W ith the revolu­ tion there w ill come, says B akunin, “ first the te rrible day o f justice, and later, m uch later, the era o f fra te rn ity .” 87 It is only in passing through this bloody “ anim al struggle fo r life ” that the revolution can arrive at a hum an society. Bakunin conceives revolution as a kind o f hum an vol­ cano and his m ind glows in anticipation o f its unbridled anim al savagery: “ A rebellion on the part o f the people, w hich is by nature spontaneous,

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chaotic and ruthless, always presupposes a vast destruction of prop­ erty . . . w hen the exigencies o f defense or victory demand it, they w ill not stop at the destruction o f th e ir own villages and cities. . . ."88 (O n e is rem inded o f the destruction o f Phnom Penh and other cities by Pol Pot's C om m unist regime in C am bodia.) A gain: ". . . inasmuch as prop­ erty in most cases does not belong to the people, they very often evince a positive passion fo r destruction . . . w ith o u t that passion the revolu­ tionary cause is impossible o f realization, for there can be no revolution w ith o u t a sweeping and passionate destruction, a salutary and fru itfu l destruction, since by means o f such destruction new worlds are bom and come in to existence."89 T h is revolutionary liq u id a tio n was to prepare the liberated fu tu re by an abreactive and cathartic expressive explosion. Ba­ k u n in was not about to have his revolution w ith o u t this 'sa lu ta ry and fru itfu l destruction," in w hich the people w ould give vent to a pent-up savagery born of th e ir centuries-long suffering. "T here is only one sci­ ence fo r the revolutionary," declared B akunin, "the science o f destruc­ tion. Day and n ig h t he m ust have b u t one th in g before his eyes—de­ stru ctio n ."90 For B akunin, a revolution w ith o u t sustained violence was not o n ly u n like ly, b u t w ould be devoid o f the p u rify in g fire o f holy re trib u tio n . T h e concentrated justice o f the revolution was in its terror. " I d rin k to the destruction o f p u b lic order and the unleashing o f evil passions," toasted B a ku n in .91 A revolutionary w ith such a conception o f revolution could only view w ith revulsion M arx's cautious edging forw ard to his own revolution o f w hich each step was strategically measured and paced off; coalitions and organizations d ilig e n tly kn itte d and used fo r as long as they produced increm ents o f power, and then discarded when better targets and op­ po rtu n itie s appeared; the sordid bargaining and negotiating fo r p o litica l handholds; the concern w ith how things looked so that allies in other classes w ould not b o lt—all this had to strike B akunin as a very respect­ able "bourgeois" socialism indeed. A n d it was. M a rx was proceeding to­ ward his revolution w ith the same instrum ental ra tio n a lity and im per­ sonal energy w ith w hich the bourgeoisie planned and b u ilt, bought and sold, a ll that it needed. A t first the bourgeoisie attempted to conflate M arxists and Bakuninists, portraying both as wild-eyed fanatics. W hen the need arose, however, the bourgeoisie could do business w ith the M arxists; and indeed has in num erous domestic coalitions w ith social dem ocratic parties and in inte rna tio n a l detentes. M arxists and Bakuninists have had very d iffe re n t constituencies. T h e Bakuninists have recruited among artisans, peasants, unemployed, up­ rooted students, and intellectuals, w h ile M arxists have often recruited children o f the m iddle classes and those in fu ll-tim e factory jobs to th e ir

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leadership cadres. T h e M arxists saw B akunin's fo llo w in g as an undis­ ciplin ed rabble and lum penproletariat. Bakuninists m ig h t see M arx's fo llo w in g as those w ho had surrendered th e ir autonom y to become mer­ cenaries and servants o f the bourgeoisie. B akuninist conceptions o f small autonomous com m unities com ing together v o lu n ta rily in federated sys­ tems w ould appeal to the peasantry, fo r both are drawn to a 'p o litic a l programme [th a t] was republican and anti-authoritarian . . . [and] en­ visaged a w orld in w hich the self-governing pueblo was the sovereign u n it, and from w hich outside forces such as kings and aristocracies, po­ licem en and tax-collectors and other agents o f the supra-local State, be­ in g essentially agents o f the exploitation o f man by man, were e lim i­ nated."92 M arxists and bourgeoisie alike have been drawn to the promise o f abundance and are sworn to the overcom ing o f scarcity and both, therefore, were devotees o f p ro d u ctivity. T h e peasant and artisan poor, however (and E ric Hobsbawm speaks o f them here, as I do not, as the "p re -ind u stria l" p o o r), ". . . always conceive o f the good society as a ju st sharing o f austerity rather than a dream o f riches fo r a ll."93 In contrast, M arxists and bourgeoisie both believed in progress and both believed that this largely depended on the sheer expansion o f the forces o f pro­ duction, on producing "m ore." N e ith e r saw that people w ould never be contented sim ply by having more than they had had, unless it also con­ form ed to w hat they believed they m ig h t rig h tfu lly expect: justice. Both M arxists and bourgeoisie alike believed that this Promethean expansion o f the forces o f production w ould continue forever, and could n o t be slowed or stopped; and rather than view in g this as the sym ptom o f a pathological in sa tia b ility, both saw it as a norm al and h e a lth fu l vigor. T h e Bakuninists were rig h t about the a ffin ity between the M arxists and the bourgeoisie. Forced to a choice, the bourgeoisie w ould recognize the common interests, w h ile the M arxists, feeling themselves m o rta lly com­ promised by this m isalliance, could o n ly deny it vigorously or define it as o n ly a tem porary expedience required by the revolution in permanence.

7 Marx vs. Bakunin: Paradoxes of Socialist Politics

M a rx and B akunin differed also in th e ir very understanding o f the every­ day process o f social transform ation even in its pre-revolutionary, more routine moments; they differed in th e ir conception o f how to relate to and make politics and indeed on w hat “ p o litics” was. M u ch o f the strug­ gle between M a rx and B akunin, especially w ith in the In ternational W orkingm en's Association, often took the e xp licit form o f a discussion o f “ p o litics,” o f M arx's insistence that the Intern a tio n a l involve its e lf in parliam entary elections and o f Bakunin's resistance to this (w h ic h , how ­ ever, was never as intransigent as M a rx liked to p o rtra y). T h is p u b lic ly visible conflict was at bottom about “ opportunism ,” i.e., com m unists' and workers' everyday participation in capitalist in stitu tio n s and parliam ents and the extent to w hich this w ould produce a trade union economics and a parliam entary reform ism that w ould tame the proletariat rather than arouse it to revolution, w ould sell its revolutionary fu tu re fo r mod­ est and precarious gains w ith in the lim its o f the status quo. M a rx con­ firm ed the B akuninist's suspicions w hen, at the last congress o f the First In tern a tio n a l at Den H aag in 1872—the very same congress in w hich M a rx maneuvered successfully to expel the Bakuninists—M a rx capped the m eeting by declaring that there were indeed some countries w hich, because o f th e ir democratic heritage, m ight allow socialism to come about through parliam entary reform . H a vin g elim inated the Bakuninists, M a rx had also elim inated the repressive effect that th e ir policy o f direct action had had on his gradualism . B akunin gone, M a rx no longer had to be “ more revolutionary than th o u .”

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T h e differences between M a rx and B akunin are im portant from m y standpoint here, because they help us understand M a rx and his theory. Bakunin was a key boundary whose contours helped shape M arxism 's own id e n tity. W e cannot know either adversary w ith o u t know ing some­ th in g o f both. For M arx, the d iffic u lty w ith B akunin was his theoretical ignorance w hich led h im to ignore the in d u stria l and economic requisites o f revolution and thus, presumably, to overemphasize the im portance o f sheer ‘ w ill." In short, fo r M arx, B akunin was a proponent o f free w ill— a radical voluntarist—w hich , we have seen, Bakunin him self firm ly denied. B akunin, o f course, defined his struggle w ith M a rx d iffe re n tly, largely seeing it —in one part—as a struggle against M arx's G erm anic im ­ pulse to centralize the In ternational W orkingm en's Association and to endow its general council w ith too m uch control over local sections, thereby in tru d in g on th e ir rig h tfu l autonomy. In another part, however, B akunin also saw these differences centering on the M arxists' refusal to proceed d ire ctly from the “ p o litic a l" to the “ social" revolution, and th e ir greater reliance upon the “ p o litic a l"—whatever that was. M u ch o f the struggle between them in the I.W .A . was focused on the question o f participation in politics and this com m only came down to w hether or not to participate in various elections. In short, the differences between M a rx and B akunin were quite convergent w ith those exhibited in M arx's conflict w ith G ottschalk in Cologne in 1848. L ike the latter, “ . . . at the end o f 1869, the Bakuninists started proclaim ing the p rin ­ ciple o f not taking part in elections fo r any kin d o f parliam ent, and w ith this th e ir struggle w ith the M arxists in Sw itzerland began."1 Yet it was not so m uch that Bakuninists opposed all p o litica l action b u t rather that they only supported those kinds o f p o litica l action that aimed at an im ­ mediate or coincident em ancipation at the social, cu ltu ra l, and economic levels. For Bakuninists, p o litica l struggle m ust lead on d ire ctly to social and cu ltu ra l revolution w ith o u t long pauses or delays. T h e y could, in fact, even countenance electoral participation i f they believed that it m ig h t sp ill over im m ediately in to the social revolution. T h e differences, then, were not that the M arxists allowed “ p o litics" w h ile the Bakuninists d id not; b u t rather that they disagreed about the am ount o f autonom y that each was prepared to allow to p o litica l a ctivity and hence how each conceived politics itself. I f B akunin demanded a politics o f direct action that had direct and im m ediate social effects, M a rx saw the whole process as a longer and more protracted one, w ith m any historical layovers and side trips. M a rx saw the process as dependent on com plicated, slow -w orking m ediations. H e saw it also as re q u irin g d iffic u lt and delicate preparations, as re­ q u irin g the disciplined deferring o f any quest fo r em otional gratifica-

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tions by the workers, as the preparation and p la n n in g for a kind of social w ar that could not tolerate a surrender to impulses, in clu d in g those for “ passionate d e stru ctio n /’ For M arx, it was not only necessary to change the society by excising the proprietary class, b u t also to change the w ork­ ers themselves, to make them com petent fo r em ancipation. T h e revolu­ tion, fo r M a rx, then, proceeds w ith in the fram ework o f a system o f in ­ strum ental or u tilita ria n action aimed at the m obilization and control of increasing increm ents o f power. I t is power that was being garnered and a n ything that im paired, slowed, or threatened the cum ulation of this power was held to be a m anifestation o f the class enemy. A n yth in g , therefore, that im paired the forces of production or th e ir efficiency, once in the hands o f the re vo lu tio n —and, indeed, even before then—was held to be dangerous to the revolution, un d erm in in g its a b ility to make war against the counter-revolution or to satisfy its m aterial needs. T hus a “ cu ltu ra l re vo lu tio n ” that involved proceeding im mediately from the po­ litic a l to the social revolution, that weakened experts’ support fo r the revolution, or w hich underm ined in d u stry’s infrastructure in science and the university, was held to be hazardous and was lik e ly to be tabled. For M a rx, the culm ination o f power was the “ dictatorship o f the pro­ leta ria t.” Paul Thom as remarks that “ the anarchists’ fears that M a rxist revolutionary politics pointed towards and w ould lead to proletarian d ic­ tatorship were w ell-founded. M a rx ’s advocacy o f the dictatorship o f the proletariat was . . . central to his doctrine. . . .” 2 W h ile lite ra lly true, Thom as is somewhat disingenuous here, fo r the anarchists did not actu­ a lly accuse M arxism o f preparing a dictatorship o f the proletariat but, rather, over the proletariat. Som ething o f the difference between M a rx ’s and B a ku n in ’s idea o f politics may be stated, in first approxim ation, by suggesting that M a rx concentrated his politics on the means he took to be necessary for achieving the social revolution, w h ile B akunin sought to protect the ends fo r w hich that struggle was undertaken, the social revolution it ­ self. M a rx thought that once power was achieved and the dictatorship o f the proletariat installed, there w ould be n o th in g to prevent the grad­ ual achievement of the social revolution, especially the developm ent of the forces o f production. B akunin thought that i f this produced a con­ centration o f power in a ne w ly centralized state, that in itse lf w ould re­ sist the developm ent o f the egalitarian, free society he believed to be the real essence o f the social revolution. M a rx was, we m ig h t say, a realist— a Real'politiker—about the im portance of m o b ilizin g power—i.e., p u r­ suing a “ p o litics” —w ith in the fram ew ork o f the status quo; he was quite utopian, however, in expecting the voluntary self-dissolution o f the new socialist society’s power center and its new class elite. B akunin, w h ile far

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more realistic about the role o f power in M a rx ’s fu ture socialism, was utopian in his in clin a tio n to avoid politics and the m obilization o f power in present bourgeois society, and to treat it as q u ickly dispensable by m oving on im m ediately to the social revolution. H e is utopian too in his b e lie f that the costs o f cu ltu ra l revolution could be paid w ith o u t riskin g the revolution itself. M a rx ’s basic attitude was that everything is achiev­ able in tim e i f o n ly we come to power in a m aturely industrialized soci­ ety; the m ain task o f politics, then, was to come to power, and to choose the rig h t m om ent fo r doing so. B akunin’s basic attitude was that in p o li­ tics all depends on using instrum ents com patible w ith your ends and that, i f com ing to power means the concentration o f power in a new state and elite, they w ould surely never surrender it and allow a classless society to come in to existence. M a rxist politics, then, was instrum ental; B a ku n in ’s was a pre-figurative politics w h ich situates h im in the camp o f those M a rx stigm atized as “ utopians.” P olitics then has a special and delim ited m eaning fo r M arx. I t is a long and protracted struggle w h ich aims at the capture o f power at the national and state centers, rather than a practice lim ite d to the factory p la n t level and concerned w ith local wages or w orkin g conditions. C en­ tered as it is on m o b ilizin g and capturing power, M a rx ’s conception o f politics is, presumably, not an end in its e lf b u t o n ly a means to other ends, especially aim ing at a broader em ancipation w hich is the 'so cia l” revolution. T h u s the first statute o f the In tern a tio n a l W o rkin g m e n ’s As­ sociation form ulated by M a rx in 1864 expressly stated th a t "th e eco­ nom ic em ancipation o f the workers is the great aim to w h ich a ll p o litica l action m ust be subordinated as a means.” Each was focusing then on a d iffe re n t danger. M a rx sought to avoid a dependence on the good w ill and voluntary consent o f the class that was to lose out in the revolution, by creating specialized standing centers o f coercion that could be used against them ; he sought to protect the re vo lu tio n ’s capacity to act against the certain and intransigent resistance o f a pow erful class that fe lt its e lf threatened w ith the loss o f its essential privileges and position. B akunin, however, expected that this old class could be to ta lly smashed by an era o f mass terror, and that, therefore, the problem was not to create special­ ized centers o f coercion that fo u g h t the old class from above, b u t to pre­ vent the emergence o f a new class by ruthlessly and pro m p tly extinguish­ in g every social difference, privilege, or in s titu tio n that m ig h t become the locus o f a new hierarchy. M a rx expected that the struggle fo r power w ould continue even after the old state was smashed and the dictator­ ship o f the proletariat installed and he believed that the way to proceed was to create and in stitu tio n a lize power instrum ents available to the rev­ o lu tio n . Bakunin premised that the revolution could be defended by let-

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tin g mass terror paralyze the old class's opposition, by e lim in a tin g all in stitu tio n s that perm itted it cu ltu ra l and ideological hegemony, by ac­ tiva tin g the masses and m a in ta in in g them in a state o f hig h m obilization. W hatever his own anti-statist predilections, then, M a rx was im pelled in ­ escapably toward state-building both by his realistic conception o f the need fo r centralized power available against the old class and its rem nant influence, as w e ll as by the need fo r an apparatus to adm inister and plan the new ly expropriated means o f production. B akunin, however, believed, no less realistically, that it was precisely this that made M arxism con­ tinuous w ith bourgeois society and w hich w ould lead it to give b irth to a new system o f privilege. In th e ir differences about the role and nature o f “ p o litics," M a rx and Bakunin were operating w ith in an em erging set o f lin g u istic distinctions in W estern European culture. T h u s among the activists pursuing radical change p rio r to the revolutions o f 1848, the issues w ould often be form u­ lated as to w hether the “ revolution o f 1848 w ould assume a social char­ acter, or be confined w ith in p o litica l channels. . . ."3 In the then cur­ rent usage, the “ p o litic a l" and the “ social," especially the p o litica l and social revolutions, were terms contrasted and counterposed to one an­ other, im p ly in g first, that the choice o f one—the p o litic a l—m ight be achieved w ith o u t the other, the social revolution, and im p lyin g , second, that the social revolution was a kin d o f extension o f or extreme outcome o f a p o litica l revolution, w h ile the la tte r m ig h t sim ply be the means or the opening act o f a social revolution. T ocqueville thus distinguishes pol­ itics and class struggle: “ T h is was . . . not a p o litica l struggle . . . b u t class-war, a kin d o f slave-war."4 A gain, F. Palecky in draw ing up a m em orandum o f the Czech members o f the A ustrian parliam ent about th e ir policy d u rin g the revolutionary period, “ distinguishes between the social, p o litica l, and national elements in the revolution, m aking p o liti­ cal' cover the problems o f self-governm ent and the freedoms. . . ."5 T h e “ p o litic a l," then, bore upon those issues o f a p u b lic character w hich arose out o f the elim in atio n o f dynastic governments in Europe and the emergence o f the nation state as a “ p u b lic " a ffa ir whose governance was to be in the hands o f a ll qualified citizens. T h is p u b lic business had its u n ify in g and salient occasion in the conduct o f parliam entary elections. T h e p o litica l revolution was, then, w id e ly understood to be som ething less than the social revolution; it was som ething concerning and express­ in g the interests o f the propertied m iddle classes and as ensuring that those o f property could exercise an influence on the affairs o f the state commensurate w ith th e ir w ealth, and from w hich the poor m ig h t be ex­ cluded. I t is precisely because he premises these rather widespread i f tacit understandings o f the “ p o litic a l" that B akunin dismissed parliam entarian-

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ism as a fraud- T h e workers, he said, cannot make use o f p o litica l democ­ racy because "they lack tw o 'sm all’ things: leisure and m aterial means . . . it is certain that the bourgeoisie knows better than the proletariat w hat it wants . . . first, because it is more learned than the latter, and because it has more leisure and m any more means o f all sorts to know the persons whom it elected. . . .” 6 A m erely p o litica l revolution, then, does n o t serve the interests o f workers but, a llow ing them em pty freedoms, binds them the more closely in to the old system o f dom ination. Consequently, . . those who call upon them to w in p o litica l liberties w ith o u t touch­ ing upon the b u rn in g question o f Socialism, w ith o u t even u tte rin g the phrase social liq u id a tio n ’ w hich sets the bourgeois trem bling, te ll them in effect . . . 'W in first this freedom fo r us in order that we may use it against you la te r/ ” W h ile B akunin regards the im pulse to power as cen­ tral to hum an nature, he does not regard the p o litica l in stitu tio n s o f bourgeois society as possessing a measure o f autonom y enabling them to be used to protect and extend workers’ conditions. These p o litica l in s titu ­ tions, like those o f the socialist society conceived by M arx, were seen as useless or dangerous fo r the w orkin g class.

M a rxist Politics From M a rx ’s standpoint, and however m uch he held that p o litica l in s ti­ tutions were essentially a superstructure grounded in the economic fo u n ­ dation, class interests, and antagonisms, M a rx was never disinterested in "p o litics.” H e believed that liberal and democratic in stitu tio n s could and should be used to advance working-class em ancipation. C ertainly, and as Paul Thom as notes correctly, in M a rx ’s view these in stitu tio n s "are not to be despised or ignored b u t recognized and . . . p u t to good use . . . in revolutionary em ancipation. . . .” 7 As early as 1847, in his critiq u e o f Proudhon in the concluding para­ graphs o f T he Poverty of Philosophy, M a rx attempted to integrate his insistence on the p rio rity o f the economic w ith a concern fo r the claims o f the p o litica l. T h e tension between these tw o impulses in M a rx ’s w ork is evident here, yet there is no question b u t that he leaves room fo r the p o litica l. O n the one hand, the p o litica l is defined as grounded in class conflicts: "there w ill be no more p o litica l power properly so-called, since p o litica l power is precisely the unofficial expression o f antagonism in c iv il society . . .” once the w o rkin g class excludes classes and th e ir an­ tagonism. " I t is o n ly in an order o f things in w h ich there are no more classes and class antagonisms that social revolutions w ill cease to be po­ litic a l revolutions.” O n the other hand, "D o not say that social move­ m ent excludes p o litica l movement. T here is never a p o litica l movement

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w hich is not at the same tim e social.” Despite his emphasis on the p rio r­ ity o f the economic, then, M a rx nonetheless retained a d istin ct place for the p o litica l and, w h ile insisting on its connections w ith the social move­ m ent, also recognized its relative independence. W h ile M a rx insisted on the im portance o f p o litica l action, never de­ spising politics as Bakunin sometimes d id, s till M a rx ’s com m itm ent to it was not as unam bivalent as his polemics against B akunin seem to sug­ gest. T h e basic structure in w hich M a rx thinks about politics is, first, his distin ctio n between the governing economic infrastructure and the gov­ erned ideo-political superstructure. T h is parallels then current European p o litica l discourse, w ith its deep structure d istin ctio n between the society and state, its a u xilia ry d istin ctio n between the society and state, and its fu rth e r d istin ctio n between social and p o litica l revolution. In the estab­ lished d istin ctio n between state and society that M a rx inherited, the em­ phasis had been on politics and the state as superordinate elements. M a rx m aintained this fundam ental social topography b u t c ritic a lly revalued it, assigning p rio rity to society, especially to the relations and forces o f pro­ duction w ith in it, thus m aking politics a kin d o f epiphenomenon depen­ dent on economic developm ent. H ere economic developm ent is the back country from w h ich politics emerges. A t some level, then, M a rx ’s differences w ith B akunin, his strenuous insistence on using p o litica l opportunities to the fu lle st, is sharply dis­ sonant w ith M a rx ’s economic determ inism . .Because o f this the role of the p o litica l is never articulately theorized in M a rx. A n d fo r all o f the im portance attributed by the M arch 1850 circular lette r to the p o litica l requisites o f revolution and to the revolution in permanence, the textual foundation o f these views is at best h a lf a dozen pages. T h e e xp licit dis­ cussion o f perm anent revolution is hardly more than a page. A n d if M a rx encourages workers to w rin g all the p o litica l concessions they can from the state, he also tells them that w hat they can get is lim ite d by the kin d o f state and society it is, and that no ultim ate em ancipation and so­ cial revolution is possible w ith in capitalism and its state. Use all the electoral and parliam entary m achinery you can, M a rx tells workers, and use it to the h ilt, b u t remember that this can never emancipate you from wage slavery. U nderneath A4 arx’s articulate theory o f history—i.e., his “ historical m aterialism ” —underneath the articulate p o litica l economy expounded at great length in m any places and especially in C apital—there is a less ar­ ticulate level, the background assumptions by w hich M a rx guided h im ­ self in his organizational activity and p o litica l life. These are the tacit rules o f his p o litica l modus operandi. By reason o f his organizational in ­ volvem ent, M a rx was thrust w illy -n illy in to politics. Yet he never theo-

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rizes this politics, at most a llu d in g to it as a “ means” o f economic and hum an em ancipation against his organizational com petitors, the “ anar­ chists.” M arx's conception o f politics can o n ly be extracted from the various usages in w h ich it is found, rather than in developed texts. Yet there also were rules o f a sort that M a rx seems to have follow ed—or w hich we can view h im as having follow ed—in m aking politics, no less than in understanding it. T h e fo llo w in g is a p re lim in a ry and provisional e ffort to codify these subtextual rules o f M a rxist p olitics: Rule One: Open struggle is preferable to secret, conspiratorial strug­ gle, fo r it can more readily involve and change masses. Rule Two: Prepare fo r and expect a long and protracted struggle. Rule Three: I t is therefore necessary to guard against expending a ll the movement's resources and energies on some specific issue, or in p u rsu it o f some lim ite d p u b lic policy. T h e m ovement m ust also develop and hus­ band organizations that can serve as the general staff o f the revolution, w h ich can economize its resources and m aintain policy c o n tin u ity over a long period o f tim e, after as w e ll as before elections. Rule Four: Since the struggle is open, the organization g u id in g it —or parts o f it —and some o f its leaders, also need to be p u b lic. Rule Five: V ic to ry w ill require a long, protracted struggle and w ill n o t come as the result o f a s w ift coup aimed at capturing p u b lic functions and buildings (e.g., B la n q u i) in w h ich the seat o f governm ent w ould be seized by a small band o f determ ined men, b u t by b u ild in g organizations and movements. Rule Six: V icto ry in the end requires the p rio r m aturation o f in d u stria l p ro d u ctivity to overcome scarcity, and the spontaneous u n fo ld in g o f the natural laws on w h ich this developm ent depends. Rule Seven: In the m eanw hile, victory also requires influence over the m inds o f men, a m obilization o f mass p u b lic persuasion. Rule Eight: V icto ry also requires instrum ents o f propaganda and agita­ tion and the creation o f m ovement newspapers and other media, to coun­ ter the cu ltu ra l hegemony o f the bourgeoisie. T h u s in order to stabilize and channel workers' alienation, w hat is required is both organization­ b u ild in g and media-development. Rule N ine: T h e focus around w h ich the p u b lic struggle develops at first is the struggle to pass laws favorable to the w orking class—e.g., the eight-hour day—and w h ich allow them to organize openly. Rule Ten: In order to pass such laws, it is necessary to make p u b lic ly visible and to elect candidates favorable to them . Rule Eleven: Such parliam entary efforts require alliances, tem porary or perm anent, w ith other social classes and various groups.

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Rule Tw elve: Tem porary concessions have to be made to these allies w ith o u t, however, losing sight o f or com m itm ent to the long-range goals, the “ social” revolution o f the armed workers. I t m ust be accepted that the early stages of the struggle w ill involve concessions to and the hege­ m ony o f bourgeois and petty-bourgeois classes and parties. Rule T hirte e n : M a tu ra tio n o f a parliam entary politics and the con­ solidation o f the w orkin g class is facilitated by developing a national so­ ciety w ith o u t divisive localisms; and also im plies a te rrito ry freed from dom ination by foreigners and possessing resources adequate to support self-determ ination, and one should therefore support movements for na­ tional self-determ ination. Rule Fourteen: Since the struggle w ill be long and protracted (R u le F iv e ), re q u irin g alliances w ith various classes (R u le T w e lv e ) having aims d iffe re n t from those o f the w o rkin g class, one should develop a tim etable, d iv id in g tim e up in to d iffe re n t phases, so that one knows w h ich rules apply at any given tim e, so that one can apply rules at the later tim e th a t d iffe r from those o f the earlier, and so that the earlier al­ liances and compromises are not allowed to continue in d e fin ite ly. Rule Fifteen: T h e struggle is not to be carried forw ard in pacifist ways, b u t may at one (e a rlie r) tim e require legal parliam entary struggle and at another (la te r) tim e, armed force. M ilita ry skills should therefore be ac­ quired and studied, w h ile persons com petent in them should be cultivated. Rule Sixteen: ( a ) A ll struggle—parliam entary, m ilita ry , or para-m ili­ tary—aims at w in n in g and o p tim izin g power; it must culm inate in de­ struction o f the old state and in construction o f a new state: the “ dicta­ torship o f the proletariat.” ( b ) A ll struggle m ust seek the m obilization o f power fo r the revolution here and now ; its ultim a te p o in t is participation in the state or the form ation o f a new state, ( c ) A ll p o litica l activities are to be judged in instrum ental ways, i.e., from the standpoint o f w hether and how m uch o f a power increm ent they produce. T h e party movement, then, is to be appraised in terms o f its efficiency as a tool to m obilize, seize, and w ie ld power. T h e object o f p o litica l struggle, then, is p rim a rily the acquisition o f power w ith w h ich to destroy the state supporting the old capitalist mode o f production, and to introduce a new one com patible w ith a socialist mode o f production. Yet it is not that alone. M a rx also m aintains that the fu n ctio n o f the struggle is to transform those involved in it so that th e ir own hum an nature w ill now be more com patible w ith the new so­ ciety. A t th e ir present stage o f cu ltu ra l developm ent, workers and others bear the dross o f centuries w hich can be shed o n ly w ith tim e and struggle.

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T h e C u ltu ra l C ontext o f P olitics and Power W h a t, then, did the struggle about the “ p o litic a l” mean? W h ic h is an­ other way o f asking, w hat d id the contest between B akunin and M a rx mean? Part o f the answer can be discerned i f we return and compare the am bitions o f disaffected artisans and intellectuals d u rin g the 1848 rev­ o lu tio n . Artisans sought ( a ) a more expressive discharge o f th e ir h o stili­ ties—a kin d o f L u d d ite direct action—against the em erging factory system and owners, ru in in g them econom ically and declassing them socially. A r­ tisans also ( b ) wanted som ething o f a restoration to the g u ild system, b u t fo r many journeym en this was to be a m odified return that w ould not restore the hereditary privileges the g u ild masters had acquired. W h a t, however, d id disaffected intellectuals want? Part o f w hat they sought was im proved m arket opportunities, w hether in the private sector or the state bureaucracy. T h e new technical intelligentsia w ould, how ­ ever, be the prim e beneficiaries o f an expanding private sector. Those w ith “ tra d itio n a l” form s o f tra in in g could be aided p rim a rily by state programs that w ould require bureaucratic expansion. T h is , in tu rn , meant that they wanted in stitu tio n s that could pursue such state-expand­ in g policies, essentially the p o litica l process and parties. W h a t tra d itio n a l intellectuals were directed toward, then, was an expansion o f the entire fram ew ork o f politics through w h ic h , first, state-expanding policies could be furthered and, second, w ith in w h ich a w hole host o f new “p o litic a l” careers could be d ire ctly pursued by them . T h is is an appropriate place to connect our earlier discussion (see pp. 113-120) o f how the exclusionary policies o f worker-artisans and in te l­ lectuals d iffe r. Recall that I had argued that each prefers d iffe re n t p o li­ cies, worker-artisans seeking to exclude intellectuals by lim itin g member­ ship to those employed in certain m anual occupations, w h ile intellectuals reject such an occupational test and prefer ideological and organizational com m itm ents as membership tests. Intellectuals then reject purely “ econom istic” or trade union principles o f exclusion and foster organizations to w hich they have access because these are not lin ke d to m anual labor in the w ork place b u t are “ p o litic a l” in character. T h e struggle between M a rx and B akunin about politics, then, d id not ju st represent a disinterested or purely theoretical difference concerning the most effective ways o f m aking the revolution or transform ing the w orld. For in some ways, the strategy o f deferred action, o f parliam entary and other instrum ental politics versus direct expressive action, each had a d iffe re n t elective a ffin ity fo r d iffe re n t groups, the latter being more at­ tractive to artisan groups, the form er to intellectuals. Support o f the “ po-

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litic a l,” then, was a demand especially congenial to intellectuals whose own social origins, educational background, and com m unication skills al­ lowed them to p ro fit from the in stitu tio n a l changes im p lic it in the new politics. T h e y could now have expanded career opportunities as deputies and m inisters in the new parliam entary politics, and as experts or law ­ yers, in the new ly expanding bureaucracies o f the state apparatus. A r ti­ sans could at most hope fo r an im provem ent in th e ir conditions through changes in the laws. Intellectuals, however, could hope to participate in the very management o f the new politics rather than sim ply be its clients. H a l D raper and other M arxologists have com m only seen this in a one­ sided way, n o tin g that anti-p o litica l B akuninism was supported by a specific social stratum , the artisans. W h ile often overstated, there was a strong tendency in this direction. Yet this is one-sided because it assumes that M a rx ’s pro-political lin e in opposition to B akuninism ’s policy o f d i­ rect action was sim ply a cerebral decision w hich had no corresponding grounding in the interests o f a social stratum or d istin ct class. O u r p o in t here, then, is that both sides in the struggle—M a rx ’s pro-political posi­ tion and B akunin’s an ti-po litics—had a class grounding. For M a rx and M arxism , however, this represented som ething o f a problem . For the pro-political interests o f the intelligentsia as a social stratum were fundam entally dissonant w ith M arxism ’s deprecation of politics and its im pulse toward certain forms of economic determ inism . In other words, the class interests o f the intellectuals supporting M a rx­ ism were not fu lly expressed in M arxism as articulate theory and were indeed in h ib ite d by it. In some part, these interests could be pursued more openly and are given fu lle r expression in Bernstein’s revisionism w ith its genteel voluntarism . Revisionism represents in part the grow ing influence o f intellectuals in the German social democratic movement, especially after the repeal o f G erm any’s anti-socialist laws. T he lim ite d p u b lic apparatus o f Leninism , however, dwarfed by Czarist repression, allowed intellectuals m any few er opportunities fo r career fu lfillm e n t as politicians or state bureaucrats. Leninism , then, represents the ideology o f intellectuals whose p o litica l am bitions in the p u b lic life are more sharply thw arted; w ho are thus more severely alienated from the status quo; and w ho had relinquished hope fo r norm al p o litica l influence in so­ ciety. T h a t, on the one hand. O n the other, Leninism also represents the repression o f just such p o litica l am bitions fo r p u b lic careers w ith in the status quo, o ffering intellectuals instead compensatory 'careers” against it, as "professional revolutionaries,” and fostering the vanguard party it­ self as the decisive site fo r the revolutionary’s p o litica l career, a kind o f substitute sphere fo r the p u rsu it o f p o litica l am bitions.

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Intellectuals and the C onsolidation o f the R evolution For M arx, then, workers are prepared fo r th e ir new socialist fu tu re both by the natural evolution o f the mode o f production and by conscious po­ litic a l struggle. Despite this preparation, however, m any o f them are also expected to remain under the hegemony o f bourgeois cu ltu re and to re­ tain a measure o f false consciousness. T here is, then, a genuine co n tin u ­ ity -c o n tin u ity , not id e n tity —between o rig in a ry M arxism and Leninism as it called fo r a p o litica l vanguard w h ich was to be more theoretically and c u ltu ra lly advanced and w h ich w ou ld lead the workers and diffuse a correct, socialist consciousness among them . M a rx ’s assumption, however, is th a t most decisive o f all is the m o b ili­ zation o f power by communists. I t is assumed that, w ith the seizure or peaceful assumption o f power, this new state, together w ith the m ature in d u stria l mode o f production that made this revolution possible, w ill suffice to produce the rem aining necessary changes in workers’ con­ sciousness and culture. C o n tro llin g the economy and the new state, workers and th e ir representatives w ill now be in a position sim ply to s ift through the old cu ltu re and to remove adm inistratively w hatever is in ­ appropriate to the new society. Hence no “ cu ltu ra l re vo lu tio n ” w ill be needed to prosecute an active struggle against the old cu ltu re and its bearers. T h e educationally privileged w ill be needed in the new socialist society although terror is foreseen as possibly necessary to command the obedience o f the old, technical intelligentsia. As Engels remarked in a lette r to Bebel on October 24, 1891, the al­ legiance o f the technical intelligentsia to the m ovement is necessary fo r a smooth transition to power. If, however, we come to power too early, he adds, “ . . . the technical people w ill be our m ain enemies, and they w ill betray us wherever they can; we w ill have to use terror against them , and s till get done in anyway. . . .” 8 H ere there is a clear fore­ shadowing o f the exigencies that w ould lead the new Soviet state to Sta­ lin is m ’s purges and show trials w h ich , i f cu lm in a tin g in mass terror against the entire populace, began in the Shakty trials against the engineers. For M a rx, m any elements in the old cu ltu re were useful and neces­ sary to fu rth e r the forces o f production. So long as those em bodying the old cu ltu re d id this fa ith fu lly , there was no question o f w hether they possessed, by reason o f that very culture, an ideology in im ica l to the ideals o f the revolution. T h e technical u tility o f the old cu ltu re and the fa ith fu l com pliance o f its bearers were param ount issues shaping the attitudes o f the new p o litica l authority. T h e “ workers’ ” possession o f po-

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litic a l and economic power was assumed sufficient to decontaminate ideo­ logically dissonant remnants of the old culture, fo r this was seen as p ri­ m a rily an infrastructure dependent on the forces o f production. As Carmen C laudin-U rondo puts it in discussing Leninism , “ . . . W estern civiliza tio n is to be accepted as it is, for, once separated from the politica l interests that have led it astray, it can serve even better the interests of socialist society.” 9 There is, therefore, never a n ything in M arxism calling fo r a d istin ct and special e ffo rt against the ideological em bedding o f the old regime in the old culture that is transm itted to the new society. T h is ideological residue is, rather, regarded as i f it were an archaic vestige w hich, w ith the developm ent o f the new m aterial foundations, is destined to die out in tim e o f its own accord. I t is not defined as borne and repro­ duced by a social stratum —the inte llig e n tsia —w ith special interests of its own; a stratum w hich passes the old culture from the old regime to the new society and w hich, because o f its u tility , is supported by the new society insofar as it is dependent on old culture skills. For all o f M a rx’s em­ phasis on the im portance o f ideology critiqu e , he never regards science and technology as a sphere o f ideology w ith its own im pulse to social dom ination. Instead he sees them as a largely neutral culture capable o f being transplanted in to the new socialism w ith o u t side effects. H ere th e ir new context w ill assign them a new role. N o th in g could be farther from B a ku n in ’s notion o f “ social liq u id a tio n ,” w ith its call for a mora­ torium on elite science and its denunciation o f the educated as a new class o f exploiters. A ccording to M arx, however, w hat makes science and culture ideologically distorted is n o th in g in trin sic. There is therefore n o th in g that needs uprooting by a special cu ltu ra l revolution. C u ltu re is distorted o n ly by the bourgeois interests it serves under capitalism , and these lim its are more or less autom atically removed w ith the la tte r’s over­ throw . Im p lic it, then, is a notion o f the “ autom atic crash” or entropy o f bourgeois cu ltu re w ith the demise o f the bourgeois mode o f production; that culture, therefore, needs no special critica l siftin g . Since culture and technology are not in trin s ic a lly ideologically dis­ torted, even the old intellectuals and intelligentsia w ho are its bearers may be relied on to serve the purposes o f the new socialist society, once they realize there is no way back to the old society. I t is im portant to use the old experts and intellectuals, especially d u rin g the period o f transi­ tion to the new society, because they have the skills necessary to help fig h t the counter-revolution and to keep the m achinery of production going so that the needs o f the new society may be met. Intellectuals and intelligentsia, then, are largely seen as the “ functionaries” o f the ideo­ logical superstructure—to use Gram sci’s terms—and, like the superstruc­ ture, they too sim ply reflect the interests and direction o f the dom inant

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class and its mode o f production. T h e y thus have a technical n e u tra lity, m aking them as useful in the new as in the old society. W ith o u t learning from technical specialists and intellectuals and using th e ir services, the new socialism w ill be unable to defend and feed itself. W ith the rise o f socialism to state power, it is not power b u t s k ill that becomes the salient problem atic fo r communists. Increasingly th e ir tasks w ill be less those o f politics than o f adm inistration whose effectiveness depends on educated, technically com petent personnel. T h is, then, is the logic o f M a rx ’s posi­ tion, p a rticu la rly when form ulated as an economistic determ inism . T h e society that is premised, as w e ll as the p o litica l measures through w hich M a rx proposes to b rin g it about, both entail b u ild in g the state apparatus, its centralization, increasing the scope and variety o f its fu n c­ tions, the extension o f its powers, and, along w ith this, an increasing role fo r intellectuals and other technical specialists whose skills are a kin d o f cu ltu ra l capital acquired through specialized education. Even before the socialist movement w ins power, however, it provides opportunities fo r intellectuals to secure editorships in movement journalism , to attain parliam entary offices, and to w in jobs in the m ovement’s own technical bu­ reaucracy. State- and n a tio n -b u ild in g are a p ro c liv ity o f intellectuals, as is p o litica l contest; fo r in this 'open struggle,” "argum ent” counts. In open p o litica l struggle, the everyday life o f the movement cadre can be more or less norm al and its sacrifices lim ite d . Far from going underground, it publicizes its e lf as candidates fo r parliam entary selection. Open p o litica l struggle is thus more com patible w ith the life style o f middle-class pro­ fessionals and intellectuals. R evolutionary p o litics becomes another "pro­ fession.” Indeed, L e n in w ill later promise that the com m unist re vo lu tio n ­ ary "vanguard” w ill be led by "professional” revolutionaries—a rhetoric serving to norm alize revolutionary life fo r middle-class intellectuals. Both the p o litica l life o f revolutionaries d u rin g the struggle fo r power—w hich requires planning, persuasion, and negotiation—as w ell as the state they construct after seizing power become preserves in w hich intellectuals have a privileged place. Indeed, the state becomes the pre-empted career ground o f intellectuals, where positions are allocated on m eritocratic and educational bases, and where m e rit is com m only measured by educational certification. T h e open struggle o f "p o litics,” then, is more com patible w ith the life styles and educational privileges o f intellectuals. M a rx ’s in clin a tio n to vest im portance in the p o litica l sphere, and in liberal or democratic institu tio ns, culm inated in his remarks at the last congress o f the Intern a tio n a l W o rking m e n ’s Association in 1872 where, after decisively defeating the Bakuninists and expeling them from the I.W .A ., M a rx had the last word, endorsing the im portance o f these in ­ stitutions, and denying that socialism m ust everywhere require a "social

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liq u id a tio n ” as B akunin had insisted. . . [W ]e do not deny that there are countries like Am erica, E ngland (and, if I knew your institu tio ns better, I w ould add H o lla n d ),” said M a rx in Den Haag, “ where the workers can achieve th e ir aims w ith peaceful means.” 10 In a lette r o f December 8, 1880, M a rx wrote H e n ry H yndm an to m uch the same effect as his remarks o f 1872, nam ely, that our “ party considers an E n­ glish revolution not necessary, b u t . . . possible.” T he Bakuninists were essentially correct in insisting on the gradualist potentialities o f M a rx ’s emphasis on the p o litica l, although mistaken in im p lyin g that M arxism can be reduced to such a gradualist tendency. W h ile these gradualist tendencies grow stronger in m ature M arxism and are continuous w ith later fu ll-g ro w n revisionism , the latter is only a one-sided culm ination o f M arxism ; fo r M a rx never doubted that in cer­ tain countries socialism could be achieved only w ith force or that it m ight, in any country, need to defend its e lf against counter-revolution w ith force. Yet when contrasted w ith B akunin, M a rx was certainly m uch more the gradualist. H is politics was a mediated process requiring de­ ferred gratification. It increasingly excluded the rem nant apocalyptic ele­ ments from the p o litica l process and lodged these in the inherent eco­ nom ic contradictions o f capitalism . H e placed m uch less emphasis on direct action and violence than B akunin and stressed the need fo r a protracted struggle using the p o litica l in stitu tio n s o f the old society, w h ile expecting to carry forw ard in to the new system the best culture o f the old. I f M a rx was an H egelian in his philosophy o f struggle, his was an Hegelianism o f the “ reconciling” dialectic whose fin a l movement en­ tailed a synthesizing and healing sublation, an aufhebung, in w hich the past is both transcended and p a rtia lly included in the fu ture . B akunin’s Hegelianism , however, was a negative dialectic that d id not p o in t toward a cu lm in a tin g “ reconciliation.”

C ritic a l M arxism as a Recovery o f B akuninism For B akunin and M a rx alike, the problem was how to u nite the p o litica l and the social revolutions. For B akunin, this meant passing from the p o litica l to the social re vo lu tio n —via “ social liq u id a tio n ” —as q u ickly as possible. M arx, too, faced the problem o f inte g ra tin g the social w ith the p o litica l revolution and form ulated the “ perm anent revolution” as his central conception o f this. M arxists believed that there must, indeed, first be a p o litica l revolution before the social revolution can be effected, that the “dictatorship o f the p roletariat” m ust be achieved first. M arx also held that this could be b u ilt only on ground that had first been cleared by the bourgeoisie, through the developm ent o f national p u b lic

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in stitu tio n s o f liberal democracy w hich could protect th e ir hegemony. H e and Engels both repeatedly warned that there were great dangers fo r a workers’ revolution that had erupted in a society in w h ich this bour­ geois economic evolution and p o litica l revolution had not occurred. T h e essential d iffic u lty w ith M a rx ’s position, however, was that the social revolution, socialism, required the p rio r m aturation o f an in d u stria l economy that was to be w rought by the bourgeoisie. T h e developm ent o f the economic requisites o f socialism, therefore, also meant that the bour­ geoisie was becoming ever stronger econom ically and, i f it secured the p o litica l in stitu tio n s appropriate to its hegemony, it w ould become stronger p o litic a lly as w e ll. T h e revolution, as M a rx saw it, required a p rio r economic evolution o f the forces o f production being fostered by the bourgeoisie. T h e bourgeoisie were thus becom ing stronger, both eco­ nom ically and p o litic a lly , at the very m om ent w hen the conditions im p utedly requisite fo r socialism were at h ig h tide. H a vin g not defined such an economic developm ent as the requisite o f socialism, b u t seeing revolution itse lf as that prim e requisite, B a ku n in ’s socialism could feel free to seek power before a capitalist economy secured bourgeois hege­ m ony. B akuninism was, paradoxically, a strategy that fa cilitated the p o litica l revolution as a transfer o f power, b u t w hich once victorious w ould be badly impeded in its effort to move on to the social revolution. Even though the entire p o in t o f its strategy deprecated the p o litica l and extolled the social revolution, B akuninism m ig h t more readily achieve a successful p o litica l revolution b u t be unable to pass over to the success­ fu l social revolution it sou ght. One im plication o f this in te rn a l M a rxist flaw is that M arxism could never make a successful revolution by adhering to its o riginal scientific socialist vision o f in d u stria l m a tu rity as the vita l requisite o f revolution. A second im plication derives from our observation that the flaws o f B akuninism and M arxism had a certain com plem entarity. T h is suggests that M arxism as a scientific socialism could begin to overcome its flaws by accommodating to B akuninism and taking over certain o f its features, although one could never expect this to be done openly. T h e subsequent history o f M arxism seems to bear out these expectations. M arxism developed increasingly from a S cientific to a C ritic a l M a rx­ ism that was m uch more vo lu n taristic and stressed consciousness and conscious organization—rather than em phasizing a spontaneous economic evolution that first develops the forces o f production. T h is long-term s h ift in M arxism is visible in L e n in ism : Leninism form ulates a concep­ tion o f a “ vanguard” revolutionary organization more nearly akin to B akuninism than to M arxism and adapts the old conspiratorial secret society to a M arxist rhetoric o f theory and science by speaking o f the

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vanguard cadres as ‘ professional” revolutionaries. I t also devoted increas­ in g attention to the peasantry as an a lly o f the proletariat w ith a revolu­ tionary potential. If, as M a rx had noted d u rin g the 1848 revolution, a secret organization had no p o in t where there was expanding freedom of speech and press, it was precisely this that proved effective in the repres­ sive atmosphere o f Czarism. Both Castroism and M aoism are more u n in ­ h ib ite d movements in the direction o f a vo luntaristic socialism. T h e y also go m uch fa rther than Leninism in th e ir correspondingly greater reliance upon the peasantry. T h is is especially the case w ith M aoism and its re­ peated “ cu ltu ra l revolutions” w hich sharply accelerate M arxism ’s con­ vergence w ith Bakuninism . T h is increasing w orld d rift of M arxism to­ ward a less economistic and more vo luntaristic theory has more usually been called a “ C ritic a l” M arxism , when found in W estern Europe. C ritic a l M arxism has, therefore, seemed to some, such as M erleau-Ponty or Perry Anderson, a d istin ctive ly “ W estern M arxism .” T h is, however, misses the p o in t o f the greater p o litica l success o f C ritic a l M arxism in the T h ird W o rld . In these less in d u s tria lly advanced countries, C ritic a l M arxism ’s reliance upon the peasantry has been even greater and its convergence w ith B akuninism even more obvious. In Asia—in clu d in g Czarist Russia—and other less-developed regions, S cientific M arxism ’s insistence upon a p rio r ind ustrialization made it seem irrelevant and generated apathy and passivity among revolutionaries w ho d id not w ant to spend th e ir lives m aking a bourgeois revolution. T o use the resources they d id —i.e., to rely on the peasantry and countryside rather than the c ity —to pursue a program o f revolutionary m ilitance at once, revolution­ aries in the T h ird W o rld moved toward a C ritic a l and away from a Sci­ e n tific M arxism . T h is s h ift suggests that there was a potential m utual tra n sform ability o f M arxism in to Bakuninism . Each m ight, under certain conditions, become the other. T h is was, o f course, most visible in the earlier or “ y o u th fu l” M a rxist w ork that was more saturated w ith apocalyptic sentiments. Perhaps the watershed year fo r the viole n t repression o f these B akuninist compo­ nents in M arxism was 1850. T h e floodtide o f “ B akuninism ” in M arxism is the publication o f the M arch letter o f the C om m unist League’s Cen­ tra l C om m ittee on revolution in permanence (ve ry soon, however, to be follow ed by M a rx ’s sharp renunciation o f exile politics and his fourteenyear im m ersion in theory and w ritin g ). M y p oint, then, is that B akuninism and M arxism cannot be under­ stood as tw o adversaries, each external to the other. Rather, they were doctrines w h ich had certain com m unalities and overlapped at im portant points. Each had a liv in g part o f his enemy in him self. I have already indicated that, in one part, B akunin was a M arxist, and ready to ac-

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knowledge this debt generously. Indeed, the authoritarianism o f some o f B akunin’s organizational schemes sometimes ‘ w ent fa r beyond the most extreme am bitions o f the dogm atic and dictatorial M a rx /’11 I f Bakunin condemned the M arxists and Lassalleans fo r p la n n in g a despotic governm ent over the masses by a “ new and n um erically very small aristocracy o f real or alleged learned m en,” Bakunin him self, ac­ cording to M ax Nom ad, secretly planned ju st such a dictatorship. H is “ societies were to be lim ite d to a small num ber o f persons, b u t w ould include, as far as possible, a ll men o f talent, knowledge, intelligence and influence, who, w h ile obeying a central a u th o rity w ould in tu rn exert a sort o f invisible sway over the masses.” 12 T h e w ar between M a rx and B akunin was so b itte r because it was som ething o f a c iv il w ar w ith in the soul o f each. T h e enemy was a ll the more dangerous and had to be squashed w ith o u t qualm because he was already w ith in the fortress o f the self. M arxism and B akuninism then, each had an interface w ith the other. Each—to its own horror—could become the other under certain conditions. Each was an adaptation o f elements o f a deep structure that both shared; they were tw o d iffe re n t b u t adjacent niches in the revolutionary terrain. C ritic a l M arxism was an evolution of M arxism toward B akuninism that developed where a peasantry was weak. M aoism was an evolutionary adaptation o f M arxism toward Bakuninism in a d iffe re n t historical terrain, one w ith a larger, more pow erful peasantry. N ow here, however, did M arxism come to power through revolution w ith o u t a measure o f “ regression” —i.e., a reversion to the elements o f Bakuninism contained in the M arch circula r letter. In n o tin g affinities between Bakuninism and C ritic a l M arxism —where the latte r is either a W estern M arxism or a M aoism —it is w e ll to recall that B akuninism its e lf was the outgrow th o f a long, insistent developm ent. B akuninism was the last ( in M a rx ’s life tim e ) o f a series o f emergents that had begun w ith W e i d in g and continued through G ottschalk and W illic h , a ll o f w hich had been opposed and repressed in M arxism . C ritic a l M arxism , then, through insisting on its own legitim acy as a M arxism , was an extension o f this developm ental tendency that m atured after the period o f Baku­ ninism . Its claim to M a rxist credentials was legitim ate enough, consider­ in g the acute ambivalence embedded in originary M arxism and its open­ in g to B akuninist elements w h ich were the successor to L e ft H egelianism , utopian socialism, and anarchism. T o characterize the developm ent o f M arxism as an “ evolution” is to im p ly that its earlier and orig in a ry form s—no less than later, more recent form s—were p a rtly an adaptation to the changing circumstances in w h ich it found itself, in c lu d in g the com petitive situation of its leadership.

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M arxism was thus never sim ply the outgrow th o f earlier theories. T h e form s it took were never sim ply the result o f an intellectual borrow ing from the past b u t were also and always a response to a larger practice in the present. T h e problem o f the forces that shaped M arxism ’s character thus never reduces its e lf to the theories it borrows or adapts, or to their tru th . A n y th in g that enabled M arxism to survive repeated failures and changed conditions, and thereby to move on, edged its way in to M arxism s doctrine and p o litica l rules. T o characterize C ritic a l M arxism in p a rticular as the product o f an evolution in w hich it is a successor to B akuninism is surely not to define it as identical to Bakuninism ; fo r that, o f course, w ould not be an evolution b u t mere reproduction. F in a lly on this p o in t, to characterize the developm ent o f M arxism as an evolu­ tion is not at a ll to define it m erely as responding to the “ force o f c ir­ cumstances.” I t was also a process e n ta ilin g a selective response m edi­ ated by hum an consciousness and theoretical com m itm ent. Yet the presence o f consciousness d id not preclude a good measure o f blindness and false consciousness in the evolutionary process through w hich M a rx­ ism developed. Indeed, it is the very nature o f consciousness w hich, in part, allows and requires that very unconsciousness.

Ill Against Fragmentation

8 Marx into Marxist: The Confrontation of Theoretical Resources

C learly, no M a rxist w ould ever attem pt to account for the origins o f M arxism p rim a rily in terms o f p rio r technical traditions and earlier theoretical achievements. For this w ould o n ly d im in ish the o rig in a lity of M arxism , ine vita b ly present it as dependent on “ bourgeois” science, and define its emergence as a natural i f not a routine event. A t the same tim e, however, accounting fo r M arxism in terms o f its cu ltu ra l, organizational, social, or class origins generates d ifficu ltie s o f its own. One such is the embarrassment o f accounting fo r M arxism in the w ork o f non-proletarians and, worse s till, among those who were clearly part o f or close to the ru lin g class itse lf. T h is not only creates a rhetorical dissonance b u t a technical problem fo r M arxism . For since it stresses that “ consciousness is determ ined by social being,” how could those w ith o u t a proletarian social being have produced a “ working-class” theory? M ore­ over, any accounting o f M arxism that d w e lt on its social origins could make it seem that it was just another partisan ideology, rationalizing the class interest o f its founders, and thus lacking in trin s ic intellectual m erit. I t is because o f this dilem m a, because M arxism seems to be dim inished by any accounting o f its origins, that M arxists have persistently failed to produce a M arxism o f M arxism . Louis A lthusser’s w ork is in part an e ffo rt to fin d a way out o f this impasse. H is first strategy, as we shall see below, was to stress the techni­ cal origins o f M arxism as science, rejecting any suggestion that mature M arxism was a class ideology, b u t also m in im izin g M arxism ’s depen­ dence on bourgeois science by in vo kin g the idea that it developed

*93

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through a “ leap,” a co u tu re epistemologique, i.e., a discovery that w ent far beyond the norm al bourgeois theory o f the tim e. T h is is perplexing because, as M arxism is no longer held to originate in the technical tra ; ditions and languages, i.e., in the structures, we are thus paradoxically shunted in to an aw ti-structural accounting in w hich the emergence o f M arxism is (ta c itly ) recentered in the person o f M a rx. T h e account is thus essentially hum anistic, in blatant contradiction to A lthussers m ili­ tant anti-hum anism . U n til recently, at any rate, Althusserians usually rejected analyses o f the social origins o f M arxism as a “ sociology o f knowledge.” W hen these origins are invoked, as they are in Goran T h e rb o m ’s w ork, they are o f course riddled w ith the very contradictions discussed above. T h u s when T herbom makes the rediscovery that M arxism was invented by intellectucdsy he is also embarrassed about th e ir bourgeois character, about the fact that M a rx and Engels were indeed bourgeois intellectuals, and the focus is diverted from th e ir dissonant class origins by id e n tify in g them as “ non-bohem ian,” rather than as bourgeois intellectuals. B ut this w ill not cut the G ordian knot. For i f those w ho founded M arxism were not bourgeois b u t m erely “ non-bohem ian” “ intellectuals,” then intellectuals need not have a bourgeois class character, and hence need not have lim ­ itin g special class interests o f th e ir own, b u t are “ free floating in te llig e n t­ sia” (in K a rl M a n nh e im ’s te rm ); free, that is, o f a ll special “ m aterial” interests, w hether derived from th e ir own or from the class situation o f others. A n e ffo rt to escape these d ifficu ltie s leads M arxists to a m irro r epis­ tem ology—i.e., these intellectuals—M a rx and Engels—are said to have discovered the w orkin g class and its historical role because, u n lik e the “ utopian” socialists w ho wrote before there was a developed w o rkin g class, M a rx and Engels worked after its m aturation. In short, M a rx and Engels presum ably discovered the proletariat’s role because the prole­ tariat was there to be discovered. (O bviously, however, not everybody saw the proletariat as the agent o f history and o f the socialist fu tu re , even though it was there to be seen. M ost embarrassingly, the w orkin g class its e lf d id not see its own historical m ission.) T h e sociological premise here was th a t the social position o f these inte lle ctu a l discoverers need not have misshaped or interfered w ith th e ir perception o f history. T h e premise, in short, was that M arxism ’s found­ in g fathers lacked class or other interests that could distort th e ir percep­ tion. Yet this is fundam entally at variance w ith the strongly sociological perspective o f M a rx and Engels themselves. T h e y themselves never doubted that a group’s consciousness—w hether true or false—was shaped by its social position and by special interests that corresponded to this.

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W e w ill fin d , then, that Therbom 's account o f M arxism 's social origins among intellectuals does not refer (as M a rxist logic w ould re q uire ) to any o f the special interests and patterned experiences o f intellectuals themselves. Instead, intellectuals are ta citly presented as having achieved this task sim ply because they were untainted, or because their own in te l­ lectual w ork enables them to surm ount th e ir class bias, w hich is to say, because they are ‘ objective scientists." In the end, then, I conclude that T herbom 's is not an analysis o f M arxism 's social origins but an A lthusserian fantasy about M arxism 's im m aculate conception. T o grasp Althusser's understanding o f the origins o f M arxism one must begin w ith his early stress on the autonom y o f science-in-general and o f Marxism-as-science in particular. H is emphasis on the autonomy o f science was essentially an argum ent about the slippage o f science from society. There were two parts to th e ir argum ent: ( 1 ) socialist “ science" was not brought in to existence sim ply by the needs o f society or even by the needs o f any class, a view consistent w ith the L e n in ist judgm ent that it w ould be necessary to b rin g M a rxist science to the w orking class from the outside. ( 2 ) N o t being produced by societal or class needs, science could then be produced o n ly by events in te rn a l to the knowledge sys­ tem, by science and theory. I t could be produced o n ly by a distinct, specifically theoretical practice (A lth u sse r had by then reduced science to theorizing, and had elevated theorizing to a “ p ra ctice "). Such a standpoint, however, is exactly w hat M a rx had denounced as idealism , i.e., philosophical idealism , the accounting o f ideas in terms o f other ideas. T h e idealism o f Althusser's view o f science is thus more than in cip ie n t. In addition, it also contains a strong i f subterranean infusion o f voluntarism . For Althusser m aintained that M arxism , like any other science, comes in to existence by a coupure epistemologique, the latter concept being derived from his teacher, Gaston Bachelard. T he ideologi­ cal bondage Althusser im puted to the young M a rx and the scientific attainm ents o f the older M a rx were then bridged by the “ coupure." B ut this, however, only attended to the gap between the young and old M a rx : it could explain nothing. W h a t needed explaining was how M a rx moved across th a t gap. H ow , then, does Althusser account fo r the transition from the young to the old Marx:* Essentially, his account entails a tacit N ietzschean-like “ leap" and thus depends on some q u a lity o f the leaper. T h is, however, is a rom anticism o f science in w hich science is allowed to escape its own norm al evolution. For someone w ho exalted a scientific M arxism , A l­ thusser thus had (fro m the b e g in n in g ) a surprising opening to voluntar­ ism. Indeed, it is Althusser's suppressed voluntarism that is one o f the

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grounds fo r his flirta tio n w ith M aoism and his apologetics fo r Stalinism . W h ile declaim ing in the best structural dram aturgy that “ history is a process w ith o u t a subject” and that it is not persons b u t structures that really make history, Althusser also insists on the great difference between his theory and others and repeatedly admonishes his readers: “ You have a choice, you have a choice,” 1 n o tw ith sta n din g that such a choice is sup­ posedly a delusory opiate, i.e., “ hum anistic” hum bug. W e m ust start at A lthussers own starting p o in t: T h is centers on ( 1 ) his e ffort to establish th a t M arxism is a science; ( 2 ) his contrary effort to set o ff this M a rxist science from non-science, i.e., from “ ideology,” in c lu d in g the ideology o f the young, “ anthropological” M a rx w ho s till focused on alienation; and ( 3 ) his e ffo rt to connect the young and older M arxes by an alleged co u tu re epistemologique. In itia lly , this rupture in M a rx ’s w ritin g was held to have occurred in 1845, b u t it soon became altogether clear that M a rx ’s early concerns w ith alienation continued in to his Grundrisse studies fo r C apital w h ich were started in 1857 (th e same year in fact th at M a rx returned to the study o f H egel’s L o g ic), as w e ll as co n tin u in g in to C apital itse lf. C riticism fin a lly drove Althusser to the desperate position o f contending that H egelian influences on M a rx had fin a lly disappeared o n ly in 1875, in his C ritiq u e of the G otha Program, and in 1882, in M a rx ’s notes on W agner’s “ Lehrbuch.” Since M a rx died a year later, it has o f course been observed that M a rx managed to rem ain “ young” fo r most o f his life . Althusser now admits he was m istaken in having held that, after 1845, alienation disappeared from M a rx’s w ork. B ut A lthusser’s is no abject surrender. H e notes, fo r example, that two o f the works in w h ich alienation did appear after that, T h e Germ an Ideology and the G ru n ­ drisse, had never actually been published by M a rx and Engels b u t were published only posthum ously. W h ile this is true, it has also been ob­ served that even though M a rx him self did not publish Volum es I I and I I I o f C apital, Althusser never doubts that they constitute authentic M arxism . In any event, Althusser now acknowledges that alienation appears in Volum e I o f C apital. W h ile he now holds that the differences between the younger and older M a rx are not as radical as he had earlier m aintained, Althusser nonetheless continues to insist—and I believe cor­ rectly—that there was a substantial s h ift in M a rx ’s focus after the 1844 m anuscripts w hich centered on “ the hum an essence,” or alienation, and alienated labor and that, w ith the d iffe re n t focus o f T h e Germ an Ideol­ ogy, “ som ething new and unprecedented appears in M a rx ’s w o rk.” 2 Specifically, concepts such as forces and relations o f production, social classes, class ideologies, and class struggles now become central. Even this more attenuated claim has been contested, however, and it has been

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pointed out (fo r example, by John L e w is) that even in the 1844 m anu­ scripts the concepts o f p o litica l economy had already appeared. A lth u s­ ser replies that, at that tim e, M a rx had n o t yet made these concepts his own and o n ly gave them substantially d iffe re n t interpretations than they had received in classical p o litica l economy. Nonetheless, the claim for the d iffe re n tia tio n o f the concepts o f M arx's own p o litica l economy from classical p o litica l economy is never given convincing development. M arx's concept o f production forces, or powers, P roduktivkrafte, is sim ply his translation in to Germ an o f a term used by the E nglish p o liti­ cal economists, to w hom it was at least im portant enough to have found its way in to the subtitle o f Adam Sm ith's W e a lth o f N ations: “ O f the Causes o f the Im provem ent o f the Productive Powers o f Labour. . . ." T he c o n tin u ity between M arx's vocabulary o f p o litica l economy and that o f classical p o litica l economy is substantial. A nd previously, H e n ri SaintSimon and the Saint-Sim onians, Bazard and E n fa n tin , had already form ulated the concepts o f social class and class conflict, as w ell as fu lly articulated the idea o f a correlation between ideological systems and social classes. T h is is not to deprecate the creative o rig in a lity o f M arx's own fo rm u la tin g ; b u t it is d iffic u lt to accept Althusser's exaggeration o f its d iscontinuity. A lth o u g h M arx's is a w ork o f m ajor o rig in a lity, it is sim ply an ahistorical m ystification to speak o f it as “ a theoretical and p o litica l event unprecedented in hum an h isto ry."3

C o n tin u ity and C re a tivity in M a rx M arx's co n trib u tio n was possible o n ly because—as L e n in him self noted— o f the p rio r w ork o f the Saint-Sim onians and other French utopian so­ cialists, the E nglish p o litica l economists, and German philosophical idealism . Althusser's view o f M arx's o rig in a lity actually dim inishes it by reducing M a rx to a species o f p o litica l economist. Above all, Althusser really has no grasp o f the sources o f M arx's in te lle ctu a l creativity; indeed, it is because he has no theory o f inte lle ctu a l creativity that he is forced in to a reliance on the m ystifyin g and rom antic notion o f a coupure. In this respect Lenin's view o f M arx's grounding is much more nearly accurate. L e n in did see the m u ltip lic ity o f M arx's sources in E nglish p o litica l economy, French utopian socialism, and German philosophy. It is precisely this conjunction o f m u ltip le traditions and th e ir m utual con­ fro n ta tio n and confluence w ith in M a rx, that grounds his o rig in a lity. M a rx begins w ith the tra d itio n o f German idealism and moves increas­ in g ly in to the tra d ition o f E nglish p o litica l economy; in this respect, Althusser is correct. P o litica l economy concentrates M arx's and Engel's attention (together and ind e p e n d en tly) on the im portance o f productive

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forces. B ut M a rx does not make this concept “ his ow n” sim ply by relat­ in g it to other technical concepts already developed w ith in E nglish p o liti­ cal economy. Indeed, had that been his direction, he w ould have been assimilated indistinguishably in to p o litica l economy. Rather, and as Goran T herbom notes, M a rx develops the concept o f the forces o f pro­ duction u n iq u e ly because he moves outside o f p o litica l economy and lin ks it w ith his critiq u e o f Germ an philosophical idealism : “ I t [forces o f production] plays a part in a polem ic against idealist theories that see society as constituted by a certain s p irit' or c u ltu re ."4 T h e forces (and relations) o f production become the m aterialist alternative to the Geist, as the d riv in g force o f evolution. T h e y serve as an accounting fo r con­ sciousness, or Geist itse lf, w hich is now seen to rest (as M a rx and Engels rem ark in T h e Germ an Ideology) “ on the productive potency o f men conditioned by a d e finite developm ent o f th e ir productive forces and o f the intercourse corresponding to these. . . .” P ut another way, M arx's opposition to German idealism centered on the autonom y it had im puted to the self-developing Idea. A t the p urely philosophical level, M a rx often proceeds by in ve rtin g idealism , h o ld in g that it is n o t consciousness that determines social being, b u t social being that determines consciousness. B u t on this p u rely philosophical level, “ social being" is an em pty, form al abstraction; it is given substance o n ly when “ interpreted" in the fram ew ork o f p o litica l economy, where it becomes the forces and relations o f production—the “ in fra stru ctu re ." In thus lin k in g philosophy and p o litica l economy, M a rx is enabled to use each to contextualize the other, and it is precisely this new contextualization that u n iq u e ly transforms each o f them . T h e forces and the relations o f production then become the basis o f an interpretation and critiq u e o f the dualistic sociology—centered on the c iv il society/state re la tio n s h ip in Hegel's philosophy. T h e philosophical context situates the forces o f production so that it is n o t o n ly significant fo r the “ w ealth o f nations" b u t is now also critica l fo r th e ir system o f ideas, consciousness, or culture. T h e “ forces o f pro du ctio n " are thus not o n ly ne w ly interpreted by th e ir new conjuncture w ith consciousness or ideas; they are also recon­ textualized by a new conjuncture w ith the relations o f production, most especially w ith property institu tio ns, o f central concern to the SaintSimonians. (T h e Saint-Sim onian influence on M a rx had begun as early as his acquaintance in T rie r w ith the Baron von W estphalen, later to become his father-in-law ; w ith the T rie r teacher L u d w ig G a ll, a SaintSim onian publicist; and w ith Eduard Gans, Hegel's successor at the U n ive rsity o f B erlin whose lectures M a rx attended.) In the eighth session o f the exposition o f the doctrines o f SaintSimon, dealing w ith theories o f property, the Saint-Sim onians note that

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the elim in atio n o f the privileges o f b irth had been a ll b u t completed, w ith the exception o f property: “ T h is heritage o f our fathers is sur­ rounded by an aura o f respect. It is the forbidden ground upon w hich even the hothead cannot tread.” Reactionary and enlightened factions alike, com plained the Saint-Sim onians, have “ a tru ly religious suscepti­ b ility ” fo r the rights o f property. T h e moderates had focused on the im ­ portance o f science, technology, and the advance o f industry, w h ile the radicals had centered on the quest fo r equality. B ut the Saint-Sim onians, w h ile g ivin g special attention to the im portance o f modem technology and science fo r industry, lin ke d this w ith property rather than equality and, indeed, rejected “ dreams o f e q u ality.” Saint-Sim onianism m uch like M arxism centered its policies on the reconstitution o f property, not on the in s titu tio n o f equality. In this vein, the C om m unist M anifesto p la in ly asserted that “ the theory o f the Com m unists may be summed up in a single sentence: abolition o f private property.” It needs to be noted, however, that a decisive step toward M arxism had already been taken by the Saint-Sim onians when they linked the new in d u stria l technology (th e forces o f p ro d u ctio n ) w ith the new property system, i.e., the relations o f production. In grounding him self in Saint-Sim onianism , M a rx could thus make problem atic w hat the p o litica l economists had taken as given, nam ely, the property question; in grounding him self in p o litica l economy, M a rx secured a tra d ition in w hich to analyze the production process in dense technical detail. T h e Saint-Sim onians, however, had already gone beyond the m u tu a lly contextualizing linkage o f technology and property (i.e ., forces and rela­ tions o f p ro d u ctio n ). T h e y had, in addition, p la in ly asserted (in contrast to the common sense o f the contem porary bourgeois) that this relation­ ship between the forces and relations o f production was not only m u tu ­ a lly supportive but that property relations sometimes blocked the new technology. Indeed, the fundam ental Saint-Sim onian concern was w ith the private inheritance o f property precisely because they believed that this perm itted incom petents to in h e rit and mismanage a societal resource, the forces o f production. T h e Saint-Sim onians, then, saw the lin k between the new technology and bourgeois property as a problem because the property system m igh t block technological developm ent. M a rx was later to develop this, in his In tro d u ctio n to A C o n trib u tio n to the C ritiq u e o f P o litica l Econom y, as the “ contradiction” between the forces and relations o f production, w hich as he and Engels had earlier noted in T he Germ an Ideology, was the very m otor o f historical developm ent. M a rx ’s conception o f the contra­ d iction between the forces and relations o f production was thus prepared by the Saint-Sim onian critiq u e o f property as existing “ by rig h t o f b irth

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and not by rig h t o f a b ility .” M a rx learns from the Saint-Sim onians that private property in the forces o f production may be socially irra tio n a l. M arxism thus took it as a given that, w ith socialism, private inheritance o f the forces o f production w ill end, although it is not m erely efficiency that M a rx aims to protect in e lim in a tin g private inheritance. T h a t prop­ erty was the foundation o f the social order was indeed the common assumption o f respectable bourgeois p o litica l economy; that private property was an irra tio n a l lim it on the new forces o f production, w hich it its e lf had unleashed, is M a rx ’s decisive inheritance from the SaintSimonians. T h e Saint-Sim onians made sociologically tangible, at the level o f concrete class and historical analysis, the H egelian philosophy o f con­ tradiction. In part, therefore, M a rx s Saint-Sim onianism and H egelian­ ism were consistent w ith one another, even i f at d iffe re n t levels o f gen­ erality. Hegel could provide conflict-sensitive change-oriented elements as philosophical foundations fo r Saint-Sim onianism , as Saint-Sim on pro­ vided a conflict sociology consistent w ith an H egelian philosophy o f contradiction. A ctu a lly, however, even this conjunction between Hegel and Saint-Sim on d id not have to be developed by M a rx from the begin­ n in g ; this, too, was 'part o f his inheritance, being transm itted through his teacher, Eduard Gans, w ho had already begun that synthesis. C orrespondingly, H egel’s philosophy had already been lin ke d to p o liti­ cal economy by Hegel him self. T h e two could be intergrated because Hegel was, o f all German philosophers o f his period, the most fu lly alert to p o litica l economy, as Georg Lukacs’s study T h e Young H egel dem on­ strates. U n lik e Schelling, w ho focused on the aesthetic, and K ant, w ho accented the im portance o f play, Hegel stressed labor. W h ile H egel’s views were consistent w ith classical p o litica l economy’s own judgm ent on labor as the source o f economic value, he u ltim a te ly advanced to a larger conception o f labor’s role in transform ing both nature and man him self. M a rx ’s own understanding o f the critica l im portance o f labor was largely developed under H egel’s influence. Indeed, N icholas Lobkow icz is essentially correct in h o ld in g that ‘ almost every th in g w h ich M a rx says about labour can be traced back to H egel.” 5 M a rx never repudiated H egel’s doctrine o f labor, that is, never denied the positive functions Hegel attributed to labor, although he d id criticize h im fo r focusing p rim a rily on labor’s positive side and neglecting its negative side. I t was through labor, said M a rx echoing H egel, that man appropri­ ated nature. For Hegel, too, labor was the means through w h ich men asserted themselves as proper subjects over the w orld o f objects, fu lfillin g th e ir inherent destiny as Subjects. For H egel, also, labor mediated be-

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tween m en’s needs and the m aterials that could satisfy these needs; labor enabled men to transcend the m erely biological kingdom , taught men discipline and self-control, and induced them in to a c iv iliz in g co-opera­ tion w ith one another. For Hegel as for M arx, then, labor is not sim ply a way o f satisfying m en’s biological needs but o f rem oving a lim it on th e ir personhood and achieving th e ir true hum an character; through labor man does not only satisfy his needs b u t also transforms them and w ith this him self. H egel holds that labor teaches men to control th e ir passions and to defer the gratification o f appetites, thus b u ild in g charac­ ter and m orality. In large part, H egel’s was a secularized “ gospel of labor.” It is not from p o litica l economy b u t from Hegel that M a rx first comes to focus upon the instrum ents o f labor, tools and machines, “ w hich the labourer interposes between him self and the subject o f his labour,” and on the role o f labor in “ the appropriation o f nature by the in d i­ vidual w ith in and through a definite form o f society. . . . In produc­ tion, men act not o n ly on nature b u t also on one another. T h e y produce o n ly by co-operating in a certain way and m u tu a lly exchanging th e ir activities.” 6 I t is on the basis o f this complex interaction between English p o litica l economy and H egel’s secularized gospel o f (th e hum anizing fu n ctio n o f) labor, in w hich H egel had moved to historicize elements o f English p o litica l economy as part o f a cryptic theory o f hum an evolution, that M a rx radicalizes classical p o litica l economy. I t is precisely because p o liti­ cal economy is already cryp tica lly embodied in H egel that the young H egelian, M a rx, resonates to the p o litica l economy that he later encount­ ers and can q u ickly accept its im portance. H egel had in effect prepared M a rx fo r p o litica l economy. It is because p o litica l economy has already been in v is ib ly transm itted to h im via his H egel studies, and because o f the central focus on labor in H egel, that M a rx can com m it him self to and redefine the p o litica l economy he encounters. Classical p o litica l economy had been centered on the m arket and on the exchange o f commodities; M a rx, however, redirected it into a theory o f production centered on labor, on the relation between workers and capital, in particular, and on the extraction o f surplus value from workers by capitalists. M aurice D obb form ulates this transition w ith adm irable succinctness: The progress and maturing of M arx’s thought, indeed, lay in the direc­ tion of deepening it in a sense quite opposite to the development of “bourgeois economics” w ith its increasing formalisation of purely quanti­ tative market relations and linkages. M arx started, indeed, from concepts such as supply and demand, competition and the market. . . . In the

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course of criticising and explaining these concepts—of revealing the es­ sence behind the phenomenal a'p'pearance of market relations, as he fre­ quently put it—he was led progressively into the examination of produc­ tion and of production relations (division of labour in general terms in itia lly, and then to the specific forms assumed by the division of labour under capitalism) and of the social and class roots of a society dominated by exploitation and the pursuit of surplus value.7 T h is transition, from m arket relations to production relations, is in part the result o f M a rx ’s fusion o f the H egelian philosophy o f labor w ith classical p o litica l economy. H egel’s philosophy also contextualized p o liti­ cal economy by in d ica tin g the h isto rica lly lim ite d character o f societies (and thus o f the laws o f capitalism form ulated by p o litica l econom y), a llo w in g fo r the transcendence o f capitalism as a transient stage in hum an developm ent. It d id this, however, w ith o u t sim ply accepting the rela­ tivism o f an in d iv id u a tin g historicism focused o n ly on the unique charac­ ter o f each d iffe re n t society. T h e discussion above o f the origins o f M a rx ’s w ork focuses on its roots in three d iffe re n t in te lle ctu a l traditions, tw o o f them “ technical” —p o liti­ cal economy and German philosophy—and the la tte r even fu lly grounded in an established academic culture. Even the critica l rew orking o f H egelianism by M a rx ’s y o u th fu l associates, nam ely, the Young or L e ft Hegelians, had its origins in u n ive rsity teaching and litera ture and in student reaction to it, organized, fo r example, in B e rlin ’s “ Doctors’ C lu b .” T h is certainly speaks to the question o f the co ntinuities in M arxism . Several points may now be summarized, w hich focus on the problem o f c o n tin u ity and cre a tivity in M a rx : ( i ) M a rx ’s creativity is indeed grounded in his mastery o f several established, h ig h ly developed, inte lle ctu a l traditions; one cannot im ag­ ine M arxism w ith o u t them. ( 2 ) T h is mastery, however, d id not sim­ p ly entail a knowledge o f th e ir technical details b u t a c ritic a l assimila­ tion o f them ; this, in its tu rn , is based p a rtly on M a rx ’s capacity to see each o f the three from the standpoint o f the other two. Each tra d itio n provided a perspective that enabled h im to be “ outside” o f the other two, to see th e ir lim its or boundaries, and to see certain potential values in them not readily visible to ordinary participants norm ally submerged in each specialized tra d itio n . ( 3 ) By reason o f his sim ultaneous command o f these m u ltip le traditions, M a rx is not captured and not lim ite d by the paradigm o f scholarship “ norm al” to each tra d itio n ; he can therefore adopt a critica l position w ith respect to the basic paradigms o f each o f the traditions. ( 4 ) C entral to M a rx ’s creativity, then, is his unconven-

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tional relationship to three established inte lle ctu a l traditions, his sheer possession o f m u ltip le in te lle ctu a l traditions and th e ir simultaneous con­ ju n ctio n w ith in his own outlook. M a rx, then, does not “ become M a rx ,” sim ply by v irtu e —as Althusser seems to th in k —o f his movement from philosophy to p o litica l economy, but only because, in m oving to the latter, he does not surrender b u t takes his philosophical perspective w ith him . ( 5 ) T h e sim ultaneous presence o f m u ltip le inte lle ctu a l traditions now constituted a new sym bolic context, a re-contextualization, o f each o f the constituent traditions, endow ing each w ith a changed interpreta­ tion and novel m eaning. T h e mystery o f M a rx s genius, thus, is dis­ solved by an analysis o f ( a ) the well-developed inte lle ctu a l traditions w hich he assimilated c ritic a lly and commanded in technical detail, ( b ) by n o tin g th e ir m u ltip le sim ultaneity and the ( c ) resultant m u tu a lly recontextualizing effect on each com ponent part, and ( d ) the partial syntheses that had preceded M arx. N ote that all this is possible only because these traditions are not “ decentered” b u t are centered w ith in and by M arx. ( 6 ) I t is especially notew orthy that the process o f estab­ lish in g a new conjuncture o f in te lle ctu a l elements, a new symbolic sys­ tem, does not begin w ith M a rx co n fro n tin g atomized elements. Rather, he already has available to h im p a rtia l syntheses—prefabricated lin ks—so that his own system is a larger synthesis o f smaller syntheses: fo r exam­ ple, o f the Saint-Sim onians> synthesis o f property w ith the new technol­ ogy or forces o f production; or the p artial synthesis o f Saint-Sim onian concerns w ith the H egelian philosophy form ulated by Eduard Gans, a favorite o f the young men o f M a rx s D oktorskluh. M arxism , then, scarcely comes in to being sim ply w ith one coupure, or w ith the singular leap o f a great genius. I t comprised a synthesis o f smaller prefabricated syntheses, rather than o f uninterpreted raw mate­ rials or inte lle ctu a l traditions. There was, in short, an ongoing vector o f syntheses in w hich M a rx s w ork was to ta lly immersed, w ith w hich it was fu lly continuous, w ith o u t w hich it w ould have been impossible, o f w hich it was a culm ination. I am now in a better position to form ulate m y own theoretical position concerning some o f the sources o f M a rx s cre a tivity and, in particular to explain how it (o r sim ilar in te lle ctu a l coupures, leaps, or novelties) comes about. W e are now able to de-m ystify the notion o f the coupure epistemologique, to specify certain o f the conditions under w hich it can occur, w hich be it noted, is not the same as denying all discontinuity. It is not our in te n t to denigrate M a rx s own great creativity, but to account fo r it; the object here is not to deny “ genius,” b u t to contribute to a sociology o f genius.

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A Boundary-Transgression T heory o f C re a tivity In telle ctu a l creativity predicates paradigm -distancing: i.e., the a b ility to adopt a position apart from , outside of, or in critiq u e o f the established paradigms o f norm al science or scholarship. Persons may indeed be “ com petent” w ith in such a paradigm ; “ norm al” scientists are com m itted to technical interests and to the solution o f technical “ puzzles” w h ich , in Thom as K u h n s im portant ( i f ta c it) critiq u e o f science, are definable as cases o f patient, puzzle-solving w ork w ith in the established paradigm (s) o f a science. T h e norm al scientists competence and o rig in a lity are w ith in a paradigm and involve the application o f the principles, e xp licit or tacit, already exhibited by the paradigm . “ C re a tivity,” as d istin ct from routine competence, im plies valuable novelties, however, that do not lim it themselves to exploring the space w ith in a paradigm, or extending it to new fields. C re a tivity entails para­ digm -distancing—a capacity to discern and a w illingness to transcend paradigm boundaries. T h e smaller forms o f cre a tivity taking place w ith in paradigm boundaries are forms o f “ competence” ; the m ajor forms o f cre a tivity taking place beyond these boundaries, sometimes characterized as works o f “ genius,” involve boundary transgressions. T h e fundam ental source o f m ajor in te lle ctu a l creativity, w ith its seem­ in g “c o u p u r e entails an a b ility to cross the boundaries o f an inte lle ctu a l tra d itio n and thus to escape control by a single perspective. T h is is facilitated by involvem ent in m u ltip le traditions. T h e structure o f cre­ a tiv ity entails ( i ) a m u ltilin g u a lity in w h ich ( 2 ) each o f the d iffe re n t languages used is conventionally assigned a d istin ct fu n ctio n in a lin g u is ­ tic specialization or inte lle ctu a l division o f labor, and where ( 3 ) this division o f labor has been “ violated,” i.e., where there has been an u n ­ conventional sw itching from one language to another and, ( 4 ) fin a lly , where the m u ltip lic ity o f languages is given a firm hierarchical ordering. T h e creative theorist is thus more lik e ly to be b ilin g u a l or m u lti­ lin g u a l—or bi- or m ulti-theoretical—w h ich im plies an a b ility to sw itch languages or theories. I t im plies a s k ill at “ translating” back and fo rth between them , and thus an a b ility to see things, h ith e rto visible o nly w ith in one o f the languages, from the perspective o f another w h ich had not conventionally been used fo r that purpose. I t is such an unconven­ tional perspective—in Kenneth Burke s terms, a “ perspective by incon­ g ru ity ” —that is system atically generative o f inte lle ctu a l novelty and cre­ a tivity. M a jo r forms o f creativity thus entail a k in d o f inte lle ctu a l deviance. I t is a break from some tra d itio n made possible by a m u ltilin g u a lity that facilitates an incongruous perspective and distances the theorist from the

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paradigms dom inant w ith in an in te lle ctu a l specialization. M a jo r cre­ a tivity, then, involves hi- (o r m u lti-) lin g u a lity . T h e more creative speaker-theorist knows several d istin ct languages or theoretical traditions, is able to b rin g them in to interaction w ith one another, to sw itch and to translate from one to another, in dealing w ith his problem atic topic, thereby vio la tin g the conventional inte lle ctu a l division of labor w hich has usually kept them separate. For example, “ labor” may be seen as the source o f value w ith in the fram ew ork o f p o litica l economy, b u t also as the source o f hum an developm ent, as in the master-bondsman dialectic o f Hegel's philosophy. T h e norm al, paradigm -lim ited p o litica l economist was not lik e ly to see labor as the iro n ic resolution o f a contest in w hich the loser, forced to labor by the victor, so deepens and develops him self that, in tim e, his hum an developm ent exceeds his master's. Yet fo r those know ing both languages, “ labor” becomes one bridge (am ong others) by w hich the theorist can escape the lim its o f one tra d ition and move across to the other, thereby developing a perspective on elements w ith in it that are unexpected to those rem aining encased w ith in its tra d ition a l boundaries. C rea tivity, then, entails lin g u istic boundary transgression. I t is in these terms that the fa m ilia r 'phenomenology o f “ genius” may be understood. T h e phenom enology o f genius centers on the “ black box effect” w hich amounts to this: a problem , and m aterials bearing on it, are presented to several problem-solvers. In short, a num ber o f theorists seems to be w orkin g on a sim ilar problem w ith seemingly sim ilar re­ sources, b u t one (o r a fe w ) o f them produces a novel solution, i.e., a coupure or rupture. H o w can this be explained? W h y is it that, although the in p u t to a variety o f thinkers was the “ same,” th e ir o utput varied so considerably? Since som ething special has happened inside the th in ke r, and since w hat this is is not visible to the outside observer, it is chalked up to the theorist's special g ift, his unique talents, his “ genius” —that is, his exceptional personal qualities. T h e im putation o f “ genius” is an e ffort to account fo r a seeming disparity between a successful theorist’s in p u t and his output, to throw lig h t on the “ black box.” B ut this sim ply explains the novel solution in terms o f the thinker's im pu ted ly special a b ility to construct special solutions, w ith o u t specifying how that special a b ility is its e lf produced. From m y own standpoint, w hat is crucial to the production o f a coupure—now definable as, “ ordinary in p u t, extraordinary o u tp u t” —is that it does not, properly speaking, depend upon events inte rna l to a creative person but rather on his critica l assim ilation o f and unusual rela­ tion to established inte lle ctu a l traditions, upon his access to m u ltip le traditions, as w ell as his capacity to sw itch or translate from one to an­ other. T h e reason th a t the extraordinary o u tp u t or novel solution was

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possible was that the th in ke r was not lim ite d to the language or theory conventionally used in dealing w ith his problem ; indeed, he may have used a tradition that was forbidden. In short, cre a tivity is often a fu n c­ tion o f cognitive deviance—because it uses resources that one is not sup­ posed to use in the tra d ition a l division o f in te lle ctu a l labor. C re a tivity, in short, entails cu ltu ra l rebellion. T h u s the novelty o f a solution often depends upon the novelty o f the resources brought to bear on the prob­ lem. I t only seems as i f a ll were using the same resources, when in fact some had m obilized extraordinary resources. M oreover, since some o f the resources used may be im proper, the fo r­ bidden tra d ition actually employed may be hidden, repressed, or glossed over, p a rticu la rly when the new solution is com m unicated to members o f an inte lle ctu a l com m unity w ho w ould regard its use as im proper. For example: a philosopher w ho wants to com m unicate his novel analysis of, say, surplus value to a group o f norm al, “ scientific” p o litica l economists w ill not ta lk about “ alienation” ; his use o f philosophy m ig h t make his w ork suspect. It is this m otivated concealment o f the boundary trans­ gression that makes it d iffic u lt fo r outsiders to notice the role o f a novel resource in producing a novel, “ creative” solution, thus producing the characteristic “ black box” dram aturgy o f “ genius.” T h e presence o f an unconventional tra d itio n may also be in visib le because the conventional specialist sim ply does n o t expect it to be pres­ ent. N o t expecting it to be there, he w ill “ norm alize” his perception o f the situation; he w ill see b u t n o t notice the alien element. In both cases, however, there is an in v is ib ility o f some inte lle ctu a l resources actually used. T h e observer is thus led to a mistaken accounting fo r the novel solution, a ttrib u tin g it o n ly to a special personal q u a lity w ith in the person. T h e solution offered here, to the problem o f the coupure, then, has the advantage of, on the one side, offering an account o f the production o f sharply novel solutions and, on the other, o f accounting fo r the common, everyday accounting o f valuable novelties. A t the beginning o f these remarks, I urged that it was not o n ly m u lti­ lin g u a lity that was conducive to cre a tivity b u t a specific ordering o f that m u ltilin g u a lity , nam ely, that the arrangement o f the several languages m ust be firm ly hierarchical or “ anchored.” N o t a ll o f the traditions can be equally im portant; there m ust be one around w hich the theorist's w ork pivots. G iven an ambiguous hierarchy or an equality o f traditions, w ith in one speaker, the results may be a w avering eclecticism : i.e., seeing diverse sides o f a problem b u t not reintegrating them in to a co­ herent structure. Eclecticism is a situation o f m u ltilin g u a lity in w h ich there is no resolution concerning w h ich o f the languages w ill be central. Unless m u ltip le languages, traditions, or theories are focused sim ultane-

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ously on one region there w ill not be “ in co n g ru ity o f perspective,” gen­ erative o f sharp creativity; unless these m u ltip le traditions are anchored or structured hierarchically, the resultant creativity is lim ite d by the dis­ integrative tendency o f eclecticism . One o f the common ways in w hich such hierarchical ordering occurs is w hen the several languages spoken are not on the same level o f generality, so that there is a more general and abstract language in w hich it is possible to speak about the less gen­ eral and abstract ones; in other words, where one o f the several lan­ guages is a tweta-language. A specific condition under w hich this occurs is where one o f the lan­ guages is a philosophy. I t is possible to speak about the inte rna l structure o f p o litica l economy in the language o f philosophy; b u t w hat can be said about the in te rn a l character o f a philosophy from the standpoint o f a technical p o litica l economy is very lim ite d indeed. T h e o riginal period o f great inte lle ctu a l ferm ent and cre a tivity in the social sciences, when th e ir paradigms were being established, was characterized precisely by that specific type o f m u ltilin g u a lity , that is, where one o f the several (te c h n ic a l) languages spoken is a philosophy. T h is is w h y the “ classical” works w ith in a social science (a social the­ o ry ) tra d itio n are often w ritte n by those who are also grounded in p h i­ losophy. T o be a “ technician” or a “ professional” is to be one no longer in command o f a philosophical language. “ Professionals” are those whose more lim ite d forms o f cre a tivity are “ competencies” in applying already established principles to areas in w hich they have not yet been applied, and whose self-defensive occupational ideology is: co n tin u ity, cum ula­ tion, “ adding another b rick to the w a ll o f science.” From this standpoint, then, M a rx ’s grounding in German philosophy was o f decisive im portance fo r his own cre a tivity and, far from having been a language that M a rx spoke b u t gave up, that is, fa r from being im ­ portant o n ly as an archaic survival, his philosophy was the in te lle ctu a l foundation o f a ll that follow ed, enabling h im to surm ount the weak­ nesses o f eclecticism. Rather than being an unheralded revolution in theory, then, M arxism was a significant variation o f a cognitive structure com m only employed fo r the historical analysis o f society in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. H ere I w ant to tu rn d ire ctly to the nature o f the more funda­ m ental modal on w hich M a rx ’s contributions were variations, specifying its character, w h ile e x h ib itin g M a rx ’s relationship to it. In effect, the dis­ cussion here w ill focus on w hat may properly be called the “deep struc­ tu re ” o f M arxism , i.e., the basic language o f w hich it its e lf is o n ly a dialect. T h is deep structure, i.e., the com m unalities o f this cognitive structure,

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has been w e ll form ulated by Ronald L . M eek.8 T o collate his remarks at several points: The essential idea of the theory is that societies undergo development through successive stages based on different modes of subsistence. The important point is that the stages should be based on different modes of subsistence, rather than on (fo r example) different modes of political organisation.9 [Suggesting that the Scotch scholar John M illa r was the first to have “ever used a materialist conception of history,''10 Meek quotes from M illa r's lectures:] “The first object of mankind is to produce subsistence . . . their next aim is to defend their persons and their ac­ quisitions against the attacks of one another . . . the more inconsid­ erable the possessions of any people, their political regulations w ill be the more simple. And the more opulent a nation becomes, its govern­ ment ought to be the more complicated. Property is at the same time the principal source of authority, so that the opulence of a people not only makes them stand in need of much regulation, but enables them to es­ tablish it. By tracing the progress of wealth we may expect to discover the progress of Government. I shall take notice of 4 great stages in the acquisition of property. 1. Hunters and Fishers, or mere Savages . . . 2. Shepards . . . 3. Husbandmen . . . 4. Commercial people11 . . . the dispositions and behavior of man are liable to be influenced by the circumstances in which he is placed."12 [Meek holds that] By 1780, in ­ deed, M illar's master principle was beginning to appear as something very like orthodoxy.13 I f the mode o f subsistence is decisive fo r the evolution o f society, M eek also notes that it was not long in becoming evident th a t 'co m ­ m e rc e ,a lth o u g h obviously o f the first im portance, was not a mode of subsistence in the same sense as agriculture or pasturage. It is in part as a response to this problem that M a rx moves away from fo rm u la tin g the "master p rin cip le ” as a mode o f subsistence and (u n d e r H egelian in flu ­ ence) moves toward conceptualizing it as the "mode o f production” w h ich includes and distinguishes between the forces o f production and the relations o f production. T h a t these concepts are so basic to M arxism , b u t are given little systematic and e xp licit specification, is in part (b u t in part o n ly ) due to th e ir involvem ent in w hat was then a long fa m ilia r deep structure. It is obvious, too, that the w ork o f Saint-Sim on and the Saint-Sim onians, in c lu d in g Auguste Comte, was also grounded in the same deep structure, w h ich "took the form o f a theory o f developm ent, em bodying the idea o f some kin d o f n a tu ra l’ or norm al’ movement through a succession o f d iffe re n t modes o f subsistence.” 14 W h ile M eek is exceptional in the incisiveness w ith w hich he specifies the general analytical characteristics o f the m aterialist deep structure on

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w h ich M arxism was grounded, others had earlier made a sim ilar p o in t concerning the c o n tin u ity o f M a rx ’s historical m aterialism w ith that o f previous thinkers. N o t least o f these was Roberto M ichels in his essay “ T h e O rig in s o f Econom ic D eterm inism and Social Class Theories,” 15 w hich seeks to demonstrate that “ historical m aterialism . . . has never been the m onopoly o f M arxism .” 16 M ichels develops his thesis w ith ready examples: that Ferguson declared in 1776 “ that any kind of economic occupation produces in a man a special m entality and that each single trade 're­ quires different talents and inspires different sentiments’.” . . . James Harrington (1611-1677) affirmed the existence of a causal connection between the economic conditions of a country and its political constitu­ tion, in the sense of a dependence of one on the other. . . . Early in the nineteenth century, Guiseppe Pecchio . . . advanced the theory of the absolute supremacy of the economy over other manifestations of life in the political field and in literature . . . the Neapolitan . . . Gaetano Filangieri . . . said in 1780: “ Observe the state of all nations, read the great book of societies; you w ill find them divided into two irreconcilable parties: the owners and the non-owners or hirelings.” . . . [I]n the period between 1830 and 1840, some writers devoted themselves to w ritin g histories of the proletariat, among them a member of the French Parlia­ ment, Robert du Var and the German, Bensen . . . Adolphe de Cassagnac wrote in 1837 his Histoire des classes ouvrieres et des classes bour­ geoises . . . an attempt to trace the history o f the proletarian class [and] George W ilhelm Raumer recognized in 1854 the “ necessity to under­ stand that political events are the consequence of changes in the meth­ ods of production.” M eek’s and M ic h e l’s observations o f the general model o f social mate­ rialism , w hich M arxism embodies and w hich it develops consisted o f the fo llo w in g elements:

T h e Deep Structure o f M arxism 1. T h a t societies were developing, in some ways cum ulatively and pro­ gressively; 2. T h a t this developm ent passes through d iffe re n t stages w hich succeed one another; 3. T h a t this developm ent depends upon the mode o f subsistence; 4. T h a t each d iffe re n t stage has a d istin ct mode o f subsistence; 5. T h a t m ovement in to a new stage does not derive from or depend on the policies o f p o litica l leaders b u t is a “ n a tu ra l” evolution; 6. T h a t, on the contrary, politics, governm ent, and the state vary w ith the mode o f subsistence and the level o f w ealth in the society;

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7. T h a t the sentiments, ideas, behavior (indeed, some o f the diseases) o f men are structured and constrained by the economic circumstances in w h ich they fin d themselves. T h e deep structure outlined above expressed its e lf in terms o f a d i­ chotomous d istin ctio n between ‘ c iv il society'' and the “ state," w id e ly used in the eighteenth century. T h is was a lin g u is tic expression o f the deep structure; i.e., it was the most im portant m anner in w h ich the deep structure was recovered and spoken in ordinary language. T h e particular form ulation o f this d istin ctio n between C iv il Society and the State w hich most d ire ctly influenced M a rx was Hegel's, especially as expressed in the latter's Philosophy o f R ig h t. For H egel, c iv il society was the sphere o f the concrete person, whose relations w ith other concrete persons take the contradictory form o f com peting private egoisms and o f a sim ultaneous m utual interdependence; pursuing th e ir own particula r interests through w ork, men sim ultaneously contribute to the satisfaction o f others' needs.17 T h is m utual gratification is not the end being pursued b u t is, rather, an unintended consequence o f the private struggle each carries on against a ll, and is in tension w ith the universal interests o f the state. “ . . . [T ]h e creation o f c iv il society is the achievement o f the modem w orld. . . . In c iv il society each member is his own end, everything else is n o th in g to h im . . . others are means to the end o f the p articular member. . . ,"18 In Hegel's version, the sphere o f c iv il society (th e hurgerliche Gesellsch a ft) is the sphere o f the private, the egoistic, and the particularistic; the state is the sphere o f the p u b lic, the a ltru istic, and the universalistic. I f c iv il society was riven, the state was the sphere o f the com m unal; if c iv il society centered on interests, the state was an ethical ideal. In this dichotom ous structure, c iv il society as the sphere o f private interests is also the sphere o f the economic, w h ile the state is the region o f the po­ litic a l. I t remains o n ly to be added that, fo r Hegel, the state was the ideal, higher realm, c iv il society being the low er. Im p lic it w ith in this dichotom y there is then an hierarchical arrange­ m ent o f the spheres: c iv il society is the infrastructure, the “ base," i.e., the low er on w h ich the state is a superstructure, a superior plane that stands over c iv il society. W h a t M a rx does is to transvalue this. A t one level, M a rx m aintains the hierarchical arrangement, b u t assigns d iffe re n t power and value to the d iffe re n t spheres, m aking the base in to the fo u n ­ dation, the grounding, w h ich becomes that on w h ich the superstructure depends; and transform ing the superstructure in to a recipient o f in flu ­ ences so that rather than being the source o f influence, it is now o n ly the topmost appearance. M a rx accepted the hierarchical topography; b u t he had redefined the economic bottom ra il so that it was no longer the

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lowest b u t the first step: As Engels p u t it, “ the state—the p o litica l order is the subordinate, and c iv il society—the realm o f economic relations—the decisive elem ent/ ’ 19 “ M y in q u iry [w rote M a rx ] led me to the conclusion that neither legal relations nor p o litica l forms could be comprehended w hether by them ­ selves or on the basis o f the so-called developm ent o f the hum an m ind, b u t that on the contrary, they originate in the m aterial conditions o f life , the to ta lity o f w hich H egel, fo llo w in g the example o f E nglish and French thinkers o f the eighteenth century, embraces w ith in the term c iv il society’; that the anatomy o f this c iv il society, however, has to be sought in p o litica l economy . ” 20 P la in ly then, and on M a rx ’s own testim ony, his fundam ental topogra­ phy o f in fra - and super-structures—i.e., economy vs. state/ideology—is a developm ent o f the fa m ilia r dichotom y, c iv il society-state, as this was form ulated by Hegel, w ho in tu rn had derived it from the eighteenthcentury E nglish and French theorists w ho established the deep structure o f historical analysis from w hich M arxism emerged and differentiated it ­ self. T h a t deep structure was fu lly visible in M a rx and Engels’s Com m u­ nist M a n ifesto , whose “ fundam ental proposition” Engels him self expressly characterizes in this w ay: “ . . . in every historical epoch, the prevailing mode o f economic production and exchange, and the social organization necessarily fo llo w in g from it, form the basis upon w hich is b u ilt up, and from w hich alone can be explained, the p o litica l and inte lle ctu a l history o f that epoch . ” 21 T here is, then, both c o n tin u ity and d isco n tin u ity in M arxism ’s rela­ tion to the dichotom y c iv il society-state, w hich it inherits from Hegel. M arxism retains the developm ental and hierarchical aspects o f Hegel, b u t rejects its G eistliche, idealistic character as M a rx stands Hegel “ on his feet” again. T h u s the elements rem ain separated as they had been, i.e., they remain in the old spaces, together w ith the other things w ith w hich they had form erly been associated, and apart from others w ith w h ich they were contrasted. W h a t had been changed was the m eaning o f the spaces or locations. T h e bottom (econom ics), form erly the lo w ly and base, was now transvalued and made the “ basic” grounding; the up­ per (p o litics, state, ideologies), form erly the high and superior, was now the superficial and dependent. In effect, M a rx had used the H egelian version o f the dichotom y c iv il society-state to tunnel his way back to the deep structure o f m aterialist analysis as it had developed in the W est. M a rx had moved the Hegelian form ulation back in the direction o f the W estern deep structure, natural­ iz in g and de-spiritualizing it, b u t re ta inin g its developm ental and hier-

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archical character. M a rx had thus naturalized the H egelian structure o f analysis by endorsing the more W estern and m aterialist versions o f the deep structure as the norm al model. T h e s h ift that M a rx makes here is a radical one o n ly relative to H e ­ gel's idealism ; b u t it is considerably less radical relative to the W estern m aterialist deep structure o f social analysis. In exam ining how M a rx made that sh ift, m y focus here on the bound­ ary transgression theory o f cre a tivity has rested largely on the special con­ ju n ctu re o f “ in te rn a l” inte lle ctu a l and technical traditions centering in M a rx. T h is focus, however, is not incom patible w ith the influence o f certain “ external” social influences,22 as we have seen.

A P P E N D IX : O N

C R E A T IV IT Y

KAREN G. LUCAS

T h e analysis o f cre a tivity and o f the roots o f inte lle ctu a l coupures in C hapter 8 developed out o f a study o f M arx's innovative synthesis o f several traditions. O u r search fo r the sources o f the extraordinary creativ­ ity o f M arx's contributions lead us to a general sociology o f genuis. T h is is a rather d iffe re n t outcome from w hat m ig h t have been expected had we asked the abstract question: W h a t are the origins o f creativity? H a vin g now developed a theory o f cre a tivity based in the specific M a rx­ ist context, we m ig h t do w e ll to examine some other views o f creativity, both tra ditional and current—some from psychology, others from philoso­ phy, none firm ly established as authoritative—w h ich touch in various ways on our theory o f creativity. T h e first problem addressed by theorists o f cre a tivity is usually: W h a t is the nature o f the creative work?, W h a t characteristics m ust an art w ork or scientific achievement have in order to be creative?. George K neller, in his T h e A rt and Science o f C re a tivity,2S argues that any defi­ n itio n o f cre a tivity “ m ust include the essential elem ent o f novelty” (p . 3 ), adding that “ creative novelty springs largely from the rearrangement o f existing knowledge—a rearrangement that is its e lf an addition to kn o w l­ edge.” B u t as he stresses, “ N o ve lty alone, however, does n o t make an act or an idea creative; relevance is also a factor. Since the creative act is a response to a pa rticula r situation, it m ust solve, or in some w ay cla rify, the situation that has caused it to arise” (p . 6 ). In other words, the fact that an act results in som ething strange or unusual is not enough to qual­ ify the act as creative, b u t rather it m ust have some effect, teach us som ething, show us something, te ll us som ething, m ust be capable o f changing the ways we th in k or behave.

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T h u s some theorists hold that creativity is a particular kin d o f prob­ lem -solving—one in w hich the problem is especially d iffic u lt and the so­ lu tio n is unexpected. W h ile this should not be taken to exhaust the field o f creativity, it certainly is in accord w ith our description o f M arx's cre­ ative w ork. O f course not all theorists agree that creativity is a form of problem -solving. Am ong psychologists, psychoanalysts in particular argue against the conception o f cre a tivity as problem -solving on the grounds that w h ile actual problem -solving is a fu lly conscious process, creative th in k in g is shaped strongly by unconscious or preconscious processes. I f there is error here, one is inclin ed to fa u lt psychoanalysts not so m uch fo r claim ing unconscious influence on creative efforts, as for overlooking unconscious influence on d u ll and routine problem -solving as w ell. I f this is the case, the presence or absence o f unconscious a ctivity can obvi­ ously not be used to discrim inate creative from routine efforts. A c tu a lly o n ly a th in lin e separates the d e fin itio n o f a creative w ork from that o f a creative person. I t is com m only held that the creative per­ son m ust have several d iffe re n t m ental abilities. “ These include the abil­ ity to change ones approach to a problem , to produce ideas that are both relevant and unusual, to see beyond the im m ediate situation, and to re­ define the problem or some aspect o f it" (p . 13). T h e boundary trans­ gression theory o f cre a tivity stresses p a rticu la rly the a b ility to see a prob­ lem regarded as the “ property" o f one discipline in the lig h t o f one or more other disciplines. Since ancient times it has been repeatedly suggested that the creator has no special abilities o f his own, b u t rather is d iv in e ly inspired, that when a person does som ething creative it is not really his or her action, b u t that o f a “ higher being." T h u s a w rite r may feel that the creative o u tp u t was actually designed by some muse, some sp irit w hich m erely used h im as a tool fo r the physical production o f the creative idea. Plato holds this view in the Io n , saying it is actually God w ho expresses h im ­ self when a m ortal seems to have done some creative w ork. A nother an­ cient and recurring theory o f the creator's nature is that the creative person is insane, that the creative achievement is som ething that a nor­ mal, adjusted, non-mad person could not or w ould not have executed. Perhaps the more modern philosophical theory o f creativity as a nonrational in tu itiv e process can be traced back to this creativity-is-madness conception. In addition to the d ivin e inspiration view he advanced in the Ion, Plato also subscribed to the madness view , saying in the Tim aeus that “ N o man, when in his w its, attains prophetic tru th and inspiration; b u t when he receives the inspired word, either his intelligence is en­ thralled in sleep, or he is demented by some distem per or possession." A ll these views that appeal to inspiration, madness, or nondiscursive

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in tu itio n fo r cre a tivity’s source see evidence fo r such appeal in the fre ­ quent statements by artists and scientists a ttrib u tin g the orig in a l basis fo r th e ir creative achievement to some sudden “ flash,” “ m ental vision,” or insight, com ing seemingly from nowhere and fo r no reason, w hich , they say, provided the plan fo r the creative project to come. B u t in stressing that part o f the process, w hich may or may not be a necessary part, one may tend to forget that the next part, the hard w ork o f carrying out the plan, coping w ith unexpected d ifficu ltie s, having the p a in tin g or sym­ phony or biological theory fu lfill the o rig in a l m ental image, is also crucial in achieving a creative w ork. N o t to m ention the many inspirations w hich tu rn out not to be workable at all. Psychological descriptions o f creativity are dom inated by the debate between behaviorists, existentialists, and gestalt theorists that continues in psychology generally. In the nineteenth century the dom inant school o f psychology in England and the U n ite d States was associationism, w hich grew out o f the w ork o f John Locke. I t continues to have in flu ­ ence today, especially on behaviorists. T h e basic idea here is that, faced w ith a problem , the th in ke r summons one com bination o f ideas after an­ other u n til eventually he finds an arrangement that solves the problem . T hus, according to associationism, the more associations a person has ac­ quired through experience, the more ideas he or she w ill have on hand, w hich w ill in tu rn result in a higher level o f creative output. One o f the more obvious d ifficu ltie s w ith this theory is that w h ile it w ould seem to predict increasing creativity w ith age, actual exam ination o f creative works reveals that fo r the most part they are the prerogative o f youth (th o u g h there are some im portant exceptions). Despite th e ir ever grow­ in g stores o f associations, most people tend to become more rig id and conventional, less experim ental and open to new ideas, more socialized along narrow paths, as they age. Such discrepancies as this suggest a ma­ jo r fa u lt in associationism: it is not how m any experiences we have had b u t rather w hat we are able to do w ith them th a t matters most here. Nonetheless this theory does provide some in sig h t in to the creative act, w hich does, as we have said, consist o f fo rm in g new com binations (as­ sociations) o f ideas. In fact, the boundary transgression theory accounts fo r people tending to be less creative as they age. I f creativity requires distancing oneself from the problem , refusing to deal w ith it in the pre­ scribed terms, then as a person becomes more immersed in a given tra d i­ tion, has strengthened his habits o f approaching a topic in a p a rticula r way, he w ill find it more and more d iffic u lt to escape the lim its o f that tra d itio n , to break the habits he has developed in w orkin g on problems in the past. U n lik e the atom istic theory o f associationism, gestalt theory explains

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the creative phenomenon in terms o f the larger whole, treating creative th in k in g as p rim a rily a reconstruction o f gestalts or patterns that are stru ctu ra lly deficient. T hus the creative th in ke r, confronted w ith a prob­ lem atic situation, deals w ith that problem as a w hole, and characterizes its solution as one w hich w ill restore harm ony to the w hole picture. As in m aking the gestalt sw itch from seeing the face o f a young woman to see­ in g the old woman in the fa m ilia r double-aspect picture, creating a prob­ lem solution involves n o ticin g elements that were there all along, b ut had been overshadowed by the prejudice o f one's expectations. Gestalt theories o f creativity aim more at e xplaining the creativity o f artistic works than that o f inte lle ctu a l theories, b u t th e ir analysis o f creativity parallels ideas in the boundary transgression theory we have developed. T hus, in gestalt theory's terms, on the question o f theoretical creativity, one m ig h t speak not so m uch o f sw itching attention from certain lines o f the puzzle to others as o f sw itching ro u tin e ly prescribed inte lle ctu a l lines o f thought to other approaches not previously thought related to that situation. H ere the creative theorist suddenly “ sees" a h ith e rto hidden dim ension by reaching out fo r in sig h t to disciplines treated as irrelevant or even forbidden by other theorists. T hus the creator not only gives us an unexpected solution , he recasts the o riginal problem as w ell, finds in it aspects the rest o f us missed entirely. T h e Freudian psychoanalysts w ho see creative th in k in g as h ig h ly sen­ sitive to unconscious (preconscious) processes actually hold creativity to be the result o f unconscious conflict w ith in the creator. T hus, given cer­ tain desires that conflict w ith consciously held values, the id produces a “ solution" to that conflict, w hich , i f acceptable to the ego, w ill m anifest its e lf in creative behavior. O n this analysis, a person w ith a h ig h ly pro­ tective ego w ill fa il to be creative since few “ solutions" offered by the id w ill meet the rig id specifications o f the ego's scrutiny. T h is theory roughly anticipates ours, w ith , o f course, the stipulation that our theory pays p a rticula r attention to the d ifficu ltie s o f achieving theoretical cre­ a tivity. In psychoanalytic terms, we m ig h t say that the theorist's con­ sciously held values are determ ined by his or her tra in in g in a p articular tra d itio n , w hich teaches that certain problems are to be dealt w ith in cer­ tain ways. Hence when that theorist is tempted to tu rn to other tradi­ tions or use methods other than those he has been indoctrinated to use, his ego w ill tend to suppress that tem ptation, to ward o ff the im pulse to engage in the forbidden. T h e creative theorist is one w ho is able to by­ pass those conscious restraints. S trict Freudian theory has o f course a lim ite d vision o f w hat kind o f impulses the id m ig h t have, nam ely sexualaggressive ones, whereas we are recognizing a w ider range o f tendencies that one is socialized to repress. For Freud, creativity is an a d u lt form

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o f childhood play, serving the same “ acting-out” fu n ctio n o f otherwise perhaps unacceptable urges o f the id. T h is fu n ctio n is one o f reducing tension, ending conflict. M a n y w riters have attacked this psychoanalytic view o f creativity on the grounds that such a “ sublim ation” theory fails to capture the significance o f w o rth w h ile accom plishm ent, that by re­ ducing h ig h ly sophisticated achievement to mere by-products o f p rim itiv e hostile or sexual drives, it lim its rather than aids our understanding o f those achievements as s k illfu lly produced creative works. Psychologists such as C arl Rogers have attem pted to meet this objection, agreeing w ith psychoanalysis that cre a tivity may serve a drive-reduction fu n ctio n , b u t seeing that as o n ly one aspect o f creativity. T h u s Rogers suggests that the creative act is not used as a means o n ly b u t also as an end in itse lf. H is theory takes a w ider range o f hum an drives in to account, postulating not m erely sexual-aggressive tendencies, b u t a drive to produce, to affect the w orld positively, to create, as w e ll. In our own boundary transgression theory we have not been as in te r­ ested in understanding people’s motives in try in g to create, either as in ­ dividuals or as members o f a species, as we have been in determ ining w hat factors in th e ir nature, history, and approach are responsible fo r th e ir creativity. W e have ide n tifie d one crucial factor as the a b ility to step back from the problem , to see it from a variety o f vantage points. One w ho has the skills and knowledge o f several traditions, schools, or disciplines and w ho can apply them a ll, both to one another and to a given topic, is more lik e ly to develop a creative view o f a topic than is someone who keeps those perspectives com partm entalized and isolated from one another, and who uses one exclusively when addressing a given area. By b rin g in g a tra d itio n or field usually considered irrelevant to bear on a problem , one may h ig h lig h t h ith e rto neglected aspects. A rth u r Koestler’s theory o f creativity converges w ith our own in in te r­ esting ways. H e points out some interrelated aspects o f the psychology o f the creative act: “ the displacem ent o f attention to som ething not previ­ ously noted, w hich was irrelevant in the old and is relevant in the new context” and “ the discovery o f hidden analogies” w hich is a result o f that change in a tte n tio n .24 N ote that he views the creative person as one who gives a problem a “ new context” and w ho thus finds elements o f the problem w hich were previously hidden. A “ G estalt-sw itch” is being made here—the picture has not changed, b u t the view er is seeing it in a new lig h t. O u r boundary transgression theory refused to place cre a tivity’s burden on the creator’s personal attributes. One model envisages several th in k ­ ers, all posed a certain problem and provided a common set o f materials

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fo r its solution; such a model postulates that a mysterious process occurs in only a few o f those thinkers, resulting in a creative solution to the problem . O u r model, however, argues that the creative th in ke r d id not use the same set o f m aterials in solving the problem . Rather he was able to call upon m u ltip le resources, to b rin g a num ber o f traditions to bear on the problem . Koestler, w ith his notion o f “ bisociation," agrees w ith our view : creativity consists not only in special inte rna l processes but also in the diversity o f m aterials employed. H e says the creative act is “ a new synthesis o f previously unconnected matrices o f th o u g h t/ ' 25 that “ T h e essence o f discovery is that u n lik e ly marriage o f cabbages and kings—o f previously unrelated frames o f reference or universes o f discourse—whose union w ill solve the previously unsolvable problem s / ' 26 “ T he creative act is not an act o f creation in the sense o f the O ld Testam ent. It does not create som ething out o f n o th in g ; it uncovers, selects, re-shuffles, com­ bines, synthesizes already existing facts, ideas, faculties, skills . " 27 Koestler too sees the im portance to creative problem -solving o f b rin g in g in the conceptions o f “ foreign" disciplines. These allow one to go beyond the stale answers proffered by whatever discipline is ro u tin e ly held to be sov­ ereign over the problem at hand. “ T h e Prejudices and im purities w hich have become incorporated in to the verbal concepts o f a given ‘universe o f discourse' cannot be undone by any am ount o f discourse w ith in the fram e o f reference o f that universe. T h e rules o f the game, however ab­ surd, cannot be altered by playing that game . " 28 Thus, for Koestler, real progress in a field is dependent upon knowledge being brought to the field from w ith o u t. “ A ll decisive advances in the history o f scientific thought can be described in terms o f m ental cross-fertilization between d iffe re n t disciplines. Some o f these historic bisociations appear, even in retrospect, as surprisingly far-fetched as the com bination o f cabbages and kings. . . . " 29 Just as we stress the m odification o f each discipline by the others in the th in ke r w ho has assimilated several, so too Koestler recognizes that “ the integration o f matrices is not a sim ple operation o f adding together. I t is a process o f m utual interference and cross-fertilization, in the source o f w hich both matrices are transform ed in various ways and degrees. H idden axioms, im plied in the old codes, suddenly stand revealed and are subsequently dropped; the rules o f the game are revised before they enter as sub-rules in to the composite game. . . . " 30 W e have seen that once M a rx redirects p o litica l economy from center­ in g on m arket relations to production relations, by b rin g in g philosophy to bear on “ technical" problems, those issues could never again be viewed in the terms o f classical p o litica l economy. Koestler recognizes such a

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change in possibility as one o f the natural products o f creativity. “ W hen tw o frames o f reference have become integrated in to one it becomes d if­ fic u lt to im agine that previously they existed separately / ' 31 I t seems that most theorists w ho have seriously considered the nature o f cre a tivity see the im portance o f escaping conventional approaches to the problem , o f conceptualizing it in nonstandard ways, o f a “ placing o f things in new perspectives / ' 32 Yet m any have o n ly recognized the inter­ nal aspect o f this, the fact that the creator is doing som ething d iffe re n t w ith his materials. W e have shown, however, that the variety and con­ ju n ctio n o f those m aterials selected from the exterior w orld is an even more crucial feature. O u r theory also im plies that the th in ke r m ust exer­ cise critica l a b ility in order to u tiliz e such a range o f inte lle ctu a l tradi­ tions in w orking out a theoretical problem . T hus, such critica l a b ility as the capacity to liberate oneself from any one given technical paradigm is an essential elem ent in theoretical creativity. One m ig h t w e ll be tempted at this p o in t to respond that critica l abil­ ity , so im portant to producing creative responses to inte lle ctu a l problems, is paradoxically a double-edged sword. For we a ll know how a “ c ritic a l" m ind can mercilessly destroy fledgling innovations, focusing on those u n ­ resolved d ifficu ltie s w hich plague any theory's infancy. T h is suggests a contradiction: critica l a b ility is required fo r creative contributions b u t it is also the harsh repressor o f p o te n tia lly creative deviation. T h is contra­ d ictio n is only apparent, however, arising from an am biguity in the m eaning o f “ critica l a b ility ." In fact, it refers to two quite d iffe re n t a tti­ tudes or activities. T h e adherent o f a particula r school or field w ho uses “ critica l a b ility " to attack a ll creative form ulations o f a problem or solu­ tion w hich result from the tem ptation to take a d iffe re n t perspective, to use a forbidden tra d itio n , is in fact ju d g in g those form ulations in terms of his old theory . H ere, exercising critica l a b ility means using the norms, beliefs, and, in general, the language, o f standard practice in one's in te l­ lectual com m unity to determ ine the tru th and usefulness o f a proposed problem solution. N a tu ra lly then, to the extent that cre a tivity is depen­ dent upon escaping the boundaries o f single traditions, such critica l ac­ tiv ity has negative consequences fo r creativity. B ut this is a very narrow , almost mechanical kin d o f critica l fu n ctio n ­ ing , whereas the critica l a b ility we have ide n tifie d as central to achieving creative works is a m uch rarer, deeper talent. T h is second kin d o f critica l a b ility does not generate a mere evaluation o f the consistency o f any new proposal w ith the principles o f the accepted view . Rather, it turns the critica l m ind to the very norms and standards w ith w hich the “ c ritic a l" defender o f the standard view in question judges deviance. T h is second kin d o f critica l a ctivity involves the assessment o f norm al theory in terms

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other than its own, em ploying an assortment o f “ im ported,” “ outside” tools, in c lu d in g discoveries and insights from alternative traditions (tra ­ ditions that the creative theorist w ill also have examined c ritic a lly and m odified in lig h t o f his own interpretation o f the w o rld ). T hus w h ile a theorist exercising the first kin d o f critica l a b ility w ill autom atically re­ ject any claim w hich is inconsistent w ith the norm al theory he has been trained to use, the creative theorist em ploying the second kind o f critica l a b ility effectively challenges theoretical n o rm a lity w ith fresh com bina­ tions o f ideas from surprising directions.

9 Enslavement: The M etaphoricality of Marxism

W h ile M arxism derived its special cre a tivity from its boundary-transgress­ in g impulses, it is no less true that its eclectic theoretical origins and its specific cu ltu ra l and organizational ecology have made it in te lle ctu a lly troublesome in m any respects. I w ill expand on this in the fin a l chapters. In spite o f these inte lle ctu a l failures, however, M arxism has in no real­ istic sense been a fa ilu re as a 'politics . For if *p o litics” is the struggle fo r power in the state, then M a rxist politics has had an histo rica lly unparal­ leled success. Indeed, it is impossible to understand most tw entiethcentury revolutions w ith o u t seeing the role that M arxism and M arxists have played in them . In about h a lf a century, som ething lik e one-third o f the w orld has come under the governance o f those d e fin in g them ­ selves as M arxists. N o other system o f thought in hum an history has ever had so extensive a success in so b rie f a period.

T h e Context-Freeness o f M arxism S till, there is a problem here w hich has to do w ith how M arxism was able to play such an im portant role in these revolutionary movements. T h is is problem atic because M arxism was a theoretical system focused on capitalism and advanced in d u stria l societies, quite u n like the underdevel­ oped economies in w hich recent co llectivizing revolutions actually oc­ curred. T h e problem , then, is how M arxism could be so p o litic a lly successful in societies so greatly d iffe re n t from those in w hich it had de­ veloped, w hich it knew most about, and on w h ich its critiq u e o f ‘ capital220

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ism ” centered. H o w is it possible fo r M arxists to pursue revolution in societies that may scarcely have a proletariat and be only m arginally capitalist? Faced w ith the fa ilu re o f socialism in the in d u stria lly advanced soci­ eties, and its com ing to power in the backward ones, some M arxists have been constrained to redefine the very essence o f M arxism , detaching it from the specific M a rxist concept o f a ‘ proletariat” to the more diffuse notion o f a “ w orking class,” thus a llow ing Chinese and other peasant so­ cieties to be subsumed by M arxism . A n d to hold that M arxism is not spe­ c ifica lly focused on the proletariat is also to im p ly that M arxism is not necessarily about capitalism per se. T h e proletariat thus increasingly be­ comes a m etaphor fo r any social system e xp lo itin g its “ w orking class.” M u ch o f this tendency to distinguish the w orkin g class from the pro­ letariat, and to treat the proletariat as a special case o f a w orking class, is visible in Paul Sweezy's discussion w ith Charles Bettelheim , where Sweezy sees the im portance o f try in g “ to be more specific about w hat is m eant by the proletariat' in the kin d o f underdeveloped countries in w h ich most o f the anti-capitalist revolutions o f the tw entieth century have taken place. In classical M arxian theory . . . the concept o f the proletariat was, o f course, quite clear and specific: it referred to wage workers employed in large-scale capitalist industry who, in the advanced capitalist countries, constituted a m a jo rity o f the w orkin g class and a very substantial proportion o f the total population. . . .” * It seems cer­ tain, however, that this cannot describe the m a jo rity o f workers in those countries in w hich the revolutions o f the tw entieth century succeeded, in c lu d in g the Russian revolution whose urban proletariat was then only a m inuscule m in o rity o f that society's total w orkin g class. In Serge M a l­ let's words: Socialist political regimes in Eastern Europe all came about under sociohistorical conditions different from those foreseen by M arx. . . . In Russia and China, the political revolution occurred in the framework of an agrarian revolution for land and peace. In Yugoslavia, it was the ex­ pression of a movement for unification and national liberation. In the other Eastern European countries, it was exported into the country as a consequence of the Red Army's victories and the refusal of traditional forces to collaborate w ith it. Whatever the case, the political revolutions were never principally the product of a revolutionary class, which in those countries was still too small to constitute a decisive political force.2 T h is discussion is about how an h isto rica lly sensitive theory, focused on the distinctive character o f capitalist society and its ind u stria l prole­ tariat, could be refocused to encompass societies that were not capitalist and h a rdly had any proletariat at all. Basically, m y answer w ill be that

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M arxism exists as an archaeologically stratified sym bolic system, in w hich its historicist p o litica l economy is o n ly the more recent layer, a “ techni­ cal” or extraordinary language, an E L , that does not exhaust M arxism . U nderneath this there is an older, more elem ental layer o f language, an ordinary language or O L , nucleated w ith “ paleosym bolic” elements on w hich there is co n tin u in g i f unnoticed reliance b u t to w hich recourse is had especially when d ifficu ltie s are encountered in using the E L . T h e discussion here develops an archaeological conception o f M arxism as m ulti-tie re d . I shall, in addition, argue that an im portant clue to this tran sfe ra b ility o f M arxism to the less developed countries lies in w hat I shall call the “ m etaphoricality” o f M arxism , and in its capacity fo r m etaphorical “ sw itch­ in g .” 3 In the course o f this discussion, I w ill suggest that, fo r M arx, the “proletariat” and “ socialism” were in part metaphors, and I shall try to c la rify the nature o f these u n d e rlyin g metaphors. I t is only when we at­ tend to the m etaphoricality o f M arxism that it becomes possible to under­ stand how M arxist-socialists can speak o f “ socialism” in such d iffe re n t ways: as the dictatorship o f the proletariat; as the democratic dictator­ ship o f the “people” ; as w hat exists in Russia, Cuba, C hina, A lgeria, South Yemen, Yugoslavia; as existing in in d u s tria lly advanced and in econom ically backward countries, etc. I t is the m etaphoricality o f social­ ism, and the use o f m etaphorical sw itching, that perm its that in te r­ changeability. A sim ilar interchangeability o f proletariat, peasantry, and people also suggests that the proletariat too must be understood as a meta­ phor. I t is the m etaphorical openness o f M arxism that also explains how it is possible fo r some M arxists to drop, or to contem plate—as some recent M arxists have—dropping the proletariat as “ historical agent,” and to search fo r a d iffe re n t one. T h e m etaphoricality o f M arxism is one o f its greatest sources o f p o liti­ cal v ia b ility and adaptability. I t enables M arxists to see revolutionary agents in almost any oppressed strata, in almost any kin d o f society, at al­ most any level o f industrialization or economic developm ent. I t is through its m etaphoricality that M arxism may place revolution on the order o f the day, almost anywhere and anytim e.

T h e Paleosymbolic in M arxism Rather than being a superficial stylistic em bellishm ent, it is M arxism ’s m etaphoricality that provides clues to its deeper structures and better en­ ables us to see M arxism as a duplex system o f surface and deep struc­ tures. M arxism consists on its m anifest (te ch n ica l and ideological) level o f categories and rational discourse w ith a concern fo r evidence. I t also

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exists, however, on a deeper level, embedded w ith h ig h ly condensed and affectively charged symbols. On this “ paleosym bolic” level, as I w ill call it here,4 M arxism has more liq u id , less firm ly boundaried meanings w hich , in certain ways, give it a measure o f m aneuverability. O n the paleosymbolic level, the lim its o f M arxism are d iffe re n t and broader than its surface technical structures. T h is paleosymbolism constitutes part o f the sym bolic grounding, i.e., part o f the O L , w ith in w hich elements on the technical level w ill be interpreted, especially when they are am bigu­ ous or contradictory. T h e deeper structure symbolism specifies w hat are allowable interpretations o f upper level symbols, usually p e rm ittin g a greater looseness, interchangeability, and a larger set o f equivalences, than m ig h t be allowed on the technical surface alone. T h e deep structure is a submerged level, a kin d o f silence that cannot be reflected upon. T h is paleosymbolic layer constitutes the last im m anent code fo r in te rp re tin g the technical com m unication. It contains the sys­ tem o f fin a l rules, the code o f last referral, the authoritative am biguity­ resolving interpretations o f the m anifest message on the upper technical layer. I t is a sym bolic stru ctu rin g mechanism, sorting, siftin g , and rear­ ranging the sym bolic contents on the m anifest level, establishing the governing hierarchy o f value-interests w ith in w hich the technical code operates. T h is deep structure, then, is the analytic o f last resort. I t is precisely M arxism ’s grounding in this deeper paleosymbolic layer that allows its m anifest, technical, upper level to survive contradiction; to accommodate to false predictions, w ith o u t being disoriented or de­ m oralized by defeats. For this paleosymbolic level has sw itching rules that allow an interchangeability o f metaphors w ith o u t generating a sense o f M arxism ’s non-rationality, in co n g ru ity, insincerity, or inauthen­ tic ity . I t is M arxism ’s grounding in a deeper paleosymbolic structure that is one central explanation o f how it has been possible fo r it to survive countless reversals o f party lin e , falsified predictions, and p o litica l be­ trayals. For these are often w ith in the boundaries o f acceptable ultim ate m eaning in the fram ew ork o f the deep structure. A fin a l caveat: T o speak o f M arxism as existing on these tw o levels does not im p ly that it is d iffe re n t from any other social theory, in clu d in g ‘ norm al” academic sociology. As I showed in T h e C om ing Crisis o f W estern Sociology, norm al academic social theory also exists on and de­ rives strength from such d iffe re n t levels.

Three Kinds o f M etaphors There are, o f course, d iffe re n t ways o f co n stitu tin g metaphors, d iffe re n t bases on w h ich things may be counted as equivalent w ith in the com-

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m u n ity o f Marxism-speakers, as in others. Am ong these d iffe re n t bases o f m etaphoricality are the iconic , the conceptual, and the functional.5 In a conceptual form o f m etaphor, equivalences are established by de­ fin in g a set o f particulars as cases o f some analytic connotation or d e fin i­ tion, or by assigning them to some one conceptualized category. In an iconic form o f m etaphor, equivalence is established perceptually; one sees—or learns to see—certain p articular cases as sim ilar to some visually concrete form and thus as sim ilar to one another. F in a lly, in the func­ tional basis o f m etaphoricality, one im putes a sim ilar fu n ctio n to diverse objects. T h e y are defined as fu n ctio n a lly equivalent in w hat they do fo r some object, or as fu n ctio n a lly equivalent insofar as our use o f them is concerned. T o illustrate the latter, fu n ctio n a l bases o f equivalence, in M arxism : vis-a-vis the uses to w h ich a vanguard intelligentsia p u t them , a prole­ tariat, peasantry, or even lum penproletariat, may a ll com m only become objects o f p o litica l m obilization. I t is because o f th e ir equivalence on this fu n ctio n a l level that they may, also, come to have a conceptualized equivalence as “ historical agents.” A gain, countries may be judged as socialist or revolutionary nations because they are the “ enemies o f m y enemies.” Concretely, opposition to the U n ite d States is, in d iffe re n t parts o f the w orld, a basis for claim in g acceptance as a revolutionary per­ son or country.6 A rab countries' claims to being “ socialist” have some­ times rested on little more than that. In w hat follow s, I shall suggest that the most profound and perdurable basis o f m etaphoricality in M arxism has been iconic , and th a t this is con­ cretized in the paleosymbol o f “ enslavement.” Enslavem ent is a paleosymbol w ith an elem ental visual im agery o f body confinem ent: an im ­ prisonm ent o f the body and a repression o f the flesh and in stin ct that in flic t gross in d ig n itie s on the person. T h e im agery o f enslavement in M arxism is also fused w ith a conceptual m etaphor o f debasement: to enslave is to treat persons as “ objects” rather than “ subjects,” thus mak­ in g them passive, deadened things. Enslavem ent is a condensed, elemen­ tal symbol evoking an im agery o f crushed bodies, hum iliated spirits, su­ pine and beaten persons, and confinem ent in chains. T h e Communist M anifesto , it w ill be recalled, ends w ith a call to the proletariat w ho “ had n o th in g to lose b u t its chains.” Subsequently, the C om m unist song “ T h e Internationale” promised that “ no more traditions' chains shall bind you.” T h e symbol o f enslavement evokes notions o f an archaic cruelty abiding in to a later, seemingly enlightened tim e and thus in ti­ mates that a grotesque, b ru ta l prim itiveness underlies the civilized “ ve­ neer” o f more modem class systems. (T h e structural isomorphism w ith the id o f Freudianism is n o te w o rth y.)

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In his critiq u e o f Proudhon, M a rx had contended that “ modem peo­ ples have only succeeded in disguising slavery in th e ir own countries, w h ile openly im posing it on the N e w W o rld ."7 In Engels's early d ra ft o f the C om m unist M anifesto in June o f 1847, the question was asked: “ In w hat way does the proletarian d iffe r from the slave?" T h e answer given was: “ the slave is the property o f a master and precisely because o f this has his existence assured, be that existence ever so wretched. T h e proletarian is as it were the slave o f the whole bourgeois class, not o f one single master, and thus has no assured existence. . . . T h e slave may therefore be able to secure better conditions o f life than the proletarian, b u t the proletarian belongs to a higher stage o f developm ent."8 Iro n ica lly, this view paralleled the position taken by o u trig h t apologists fo r slavery in the U n ite d States and England w ho argued that free wage-labor in the N o rth was only a disguised form o f slavery, sometimes worse than the open slavery in the South.9 G iven a tacit rule that all historically specific class systems are, can be, become, or may regress to, an enslave­ m ent—and that this is th e ir true re a lity and proper interpretation—then the differences between Fascism /N azism and liberal democracy d im in ish or disappear and all may now be viewed as more or less equivalent forms o f “ enslavem ent," and may be treated in m uch the same way. T h e revolutionary m ust then struggle to make m anifest the brutal es­ sence o f enslavement u n d erlying the liberal disguise, thereby polarizing the choice between his enlightened socialism and th e ir brutal barbarism. A lth o u g h M a rx and Engels later gave unequivocal support to the N o rth s cause in the Am erican C iv il W a r, th e ir earlier, more general view was equivocal indeed, em phasizing that there had been a period w hen slavery was necessary and, indeed, historically 'progressive in char­ acter. T hus, in 1846, M a rx in M isere de la philosophie had held that “ w ith o u t slavery, N o rth Am erica, the most progressive o f countries, w ould be transform ed in to a patriarchical (i.e ., trib a l) country. . . . I f slavery disappears, Am erica is removed from the map o f nations." Engels, fo r his part, had averred that “ w ith o u t the slavery o f a n tiq u ity, no mod­ em socialism ."10 For M a rx and Engels, slavery was once necessary, b u t now archaic; a past that was s till present, liv in g on form idably, coexist­ in g w ith and u n d e rlyin g the more modern forms w hich were its “ dis­ guise." T h e enslavement m etaphor in M arxism thus had a certain dis­ sonance w ith M a rx and Engels's articulate theory w ith its m aterialist “ appreciation" o f slavery's historical “ necessity." T h e enslavement metaphor, then, is part o f the seen but unnoticed paleosymbolism lodged in M arxism 's selective adaptation to ordinary lan­ guage. As such, it is an elem ent that is spoken by M arxists b u t is not easily spoken about by them . A lth o u g h o f restricted re fle xivity, this paleo-

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symbolism is a m ajor source o f M arxism s capacity to ig n ite and m obilize rebel p o litica l m otivation; it is a near-invisible mover secreted in the v ic in ity o f M arxism 's technical theory.

M etaphoricality o f E arly M arxism T h e early history o f M arxism allows considerable v is ib ility o f the meta­ phors and o f the rules o f m etaphoric sw itchin g in w hich some o f the deepest structures o f M arxism are to be found. T h e fundam ental syntax o f M arxism is displayed in its m etaphoric sw itchin g between God, u n i­ versal ra tio na lity, man, and proletariat. M u ch o f M arxism begins w ith an e ffort to cla rify the relation o f these elem ental symbols: “ . . . the critiq u e o f religion is the prerequisite o f every c ritiq u e ," wrote M a rx in his C ritiq u e o f H egel’s “ Philosophy o f R ig h t,’’11 M arxism inh e rite d the general achievement o f the Young Hegelians that “ the foundation o f irreligious criticism is th is: man makes religion; religion does not make m an.” H ere the m etaphoricality o f religion and man is unequivocal. T h e o n ly qualification made is that it is presum ably o n ly a one-way sw itch: “ M an —» R elig io n '' is correct; “ R eligion M a n " is incorrect. A lo n g w ith Feuerbach and the Young Hegelians, M a rx expressly af­ firm ed a m etaphoricality o f religion, religious theology, metaphysics, and even rational philosophy. T h a t m etaphoricality is, in fact, the basis o f the critiq u e o f H egelian philosophy as em bodying a suppressed re li­ giosity. “ T h e secret o f theology is anthropology," said Feuerbach, “ b u t the secret o f speculative philosophy is theology."12 T h a t this critiqu e was thoroughly m erited is clear from the m etaphori­ ca lity o f Hegel's contention that reason is the “ d ivin e in m an." A gain, in his Philosophy o f H isto ry, Hegel celebrates C h rist as the M a n w ho is G od—God w ho is m an."13 T h e m etaphorical sw itching between m a n /G o d -p h ilo so p h y/re lig io n is evident also in the fo llo w in g com m entary by M a rx : “ R eligion is o n ly the illu so ry sun about w hich man revolves so long as he does not revolve about h im se lf." I t is the task o f philosophy, says M a rx, to move from the critiq u e o f religion to the critiq u e o f the w orld in w hich it grew, so that the conditions that foster and reproduce illusions w ill themselves be over­ come. Philosophy, says M arx, is now “ in the service o f h isto ry."14 T hus, p h ilo so p h y/h isto ry—theology / G od. As M a rx and the other Young Hegelians moved from a critiq u e o f theology to a critiq u e o f philosophy, from a critiq u e o f topic to a critiq u e o f resource, even the rational theoretical self is seen as having a “ false consciousness"; as not having transcended theology, as having failed in its tacit, self-imposed requirem ent to obey the rules it imposes upon

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others. Philosophy its e lf must therefore be transcended and actualized on earth, by changing the social being o f w hich it is the flawed con­ sciousness. B ut now, having come down to earth, philosophy required a m aterial basis that could actualize it there, the proletariat. “ T h e critiq u e of religion ends in the doctrine that man is the supreme being fo r man . . . w ith the categorical im perative to overthrow all conditions in w hich man is a debased, enslaved, neglected, contem ptible being. . . .” 15 T w o points are w orth m entioning here. First, note that in m aking man the “ supreme being” there is a clear m etaphoricality sw itching between God and M an. T h is “ transform ative c ritiq u e ” entails the usual “ inversion” w hich is not as profound a change as may at first seem, because the claims made fo r religion and God are reassigned to M a n , as the assets o f a bankrupt business are assigned to the courtappointed receiver. A second p o in t: note that the im perative is, at this point, to over­ th ro w “ a ll” enslaving conditions. “ C apitalism ” is thus a m etaphor o f “ enslavem ent” : It is precisely because M arxism starts w ith a quest for a universal hum an em ancipation that it may later move from a particular theory o f revolution against capitalism to a more general theory o f revo­ lu tio n , in almost any society. T h is theoretical s h ift is subsequently most visible in Georg Lukacs’s “ m ethodological” reading o f M arxism w hich emerges fo llo w in g the fa il­ ure o f the H ungarian and German revolutions. B ut this is in the nature o f a reversion, fo r early M arxism began w ith a theory o f “ universal em ancipation” and was a general philosophy o f revolution; M arxism only subsequently historicized “ enslavement” and moved to a narrow er theory o f proletarian revolution in capitalist society. Lukacs’s thrust toward a general theory o f revolution was thus a rediscovery o f w hat had been suppressed in M arxism , as it developed from a more universal to a more specialized theory o f proletarian anti-capitalist revolution. In th e ir en­ counter w ith the w orld, then, w hat M arxists had discovered was—them ­ selves.16

T h e Enslavem ent M etaphor and HegeVs Master-Bondsman C o n flict T h e later M a rxist p o litica l economy o f the increasing “ m isery” o f the proletariat, and the early M a rxist philosophy o f a universal emancipa­ tion, both center on a m etaphor o f enslavement. M a rx ’s form ulation o f this m etaphor is in part derived from and continuous w ith H egel’s anal­ ysis o f the dialectics o f the “ master-bondsman” relationship. In this, the slave’s autonom y continues to develop, by reason of his need to w ork and

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cope w ith necessity, in tim e m aking the master dependent upon and in ­ fe rio r to him . Encysted w ith in the subsequently historicized M a rxist focus on class struggle and, in particular, its sociologically specific strug­ gle o f proletariat and bourgeoisie, lies a paradoxically timeless paradigm o f hum an conflict, H egels protean mythos o f the master-bondsman struggle. A lth o u g h most fu lly elaborated in his Phenomenologie des Geistes, Hegel's concern w ith the master-bondsman paradigm is to be found in a large variety o f his w ork in clu d in g the so-called “ theological essays." George A rm strong K e lly is surely correct in speaking o f “ the sym bolic power o f the master-slave image throughout most o f the corpus o f p h ilo ­ sophical w ritin g s ."17 In Josiah Royce's anglicized version: “ T h e master essentially recognizes that he needs somebody else in order that this other may prove him , the master, to be the self. . . . I can o n ly know m yself as this in d ivid u a l i f I fin d somebody else in the w orld by contrast w ith whom I recognize w ho I am . . . the slave, to be sure, has no rights, b u t he has his uses, and he teaches me, the master, that I am the self . . . the master hereby becomes dependent upon the slave's w ork. . . . T h e master's life is essentially lazy and em pty. O f the tw o, the fa ith fu l slave after all comes m uch nearer to genuine selfhood. . . . T h e slave, so Hegel says, works over, reconstructs the things o f experience. Therefore, by his w ork, he, after all, is conquering the w orld o f experi­ ence, is m aking it the w orld o f self, is becoming the self . . . w ho in the end m ust become ju s tly proud o f the true mastery that his w ork gives h im ."18 T h e metaphor o f enslavement embedded in Hegel's master-bondsman dialectic like other, less systematic uses o f that m etaphor, provides the central sw itching house in w hich rebellion against any kind o f master is sanctioned. I t allows M arxism 's specific theory o f proletarian revolution against capitalism to cope w ith that rebellion's fa ilu re in advanced capi­ talist societies and, by regressing to the paleosymbolic layer, to re-emerge in Lukacs as a generalized theory o f revolution.

Subject and O bject as M aster and Slave T h e historically sensitive M a rx knew w ell enough that the w o rkin g class o f capitalist society was n o t identical w ith the slaves o f a n tiq u ity, or fo r that m atter, w ith those o f the N e w W o rld . T o the extent, however, that he thought o f both as com m only “ exploited"—as creating the “ surplus value" that others appropriated—he is fu lly aware o f the tw o classes as sharing some essential properties, and o f h o ld in g that they do. T h e slav-

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ery m etaphor in M arxism is thus not altogether b lin d or u n w ittin g . There is, however, an even deeper level in w hich there is an unlabeled m etaphor o f slavery that pervades M arxism 's most fundam ental inte lle c­ tual resources. T h is unlabeled m etaphor is ta citly im plicated in German idealism's central d istin ctio n between “ Subject" and “ O bject," actor and acted-upon, knower and know n, w hich M arxism continues to em ploy even if c ritic a lly . From the standpoint o f idealism , the Subject is in the nature o f a Self, the true self, w hich is the locus o f all the most basic dimensions o f m eaningfulness: goodness, potency, and m o b ility. T h e Subject is thus the potential repository o f potency and goodness, or at least o f the norms to w hich potency w ill conform . T h e Subject, in short, is the generalized. T h e Subject-O bject d iffe re n tia tio n in German ideal­ ism is the gram m atical infrastructure o f the master-bondsman mythos. T h e crux o f the relation between Subject and O bject (physical w orld, nature, O th e r) is that the O bject is constituted by the Subject (s e lf) as, indeed, is the O bject's very foreignness to the self. Composed o f contra­ dictory and opposing forces, the self is at first unconscious o f its own m asterful nature and o f the powers w hich it successively unfolds and develops. T h e Subject is thus the realm o f both a consciousness and an tmconsciousness. Above all, it is precisely as knower that the Subject lacks awareness o f itse lf, fo r it first takes the w orld in a common-sense way, as an O bject existing apart from it, rather than as a produced th in g o f its own m aking. T h e Subject is thus at first “ o b je ctivistic." T h e self's m aturation entails its grow ing recognition o f its own power, its over­ com ing o f the foreign-ness and Object-ness o f the w orld, and its m ount­ in g awareness o f the way it itse lf is w orld-m aking. T h e Subject-self's ultim a te achievement is the recognition o f its own w orld-constituting master-nature. T h e confrontation o f the self w ith these “ external" alien objects leads it to the discovery that it is both Subject and O bject, knower and know n, self and other. Indeed, this is the m ark o f the subject's m aturation. I t is in achieving this u n ity or harm ony, this new wholeness, that there is an overcom ing o f all contradictions and a new, cu lm in a tin g oneness, the Absolute. T h e Absolute is the philosophical sublim ation o f deity, the com pletion o f perfect being, the surm ounting o f lim ita tio n , the end o f change and tim e, and the transcendence o f all contradictions. German idealism , in short, entails the sublation o f God in Reason. Seen from one perspective, this is a Protestant mythos o f the over­ com ing o f fragm entation recited in the idiom o f logic; it is logic anthro­ pom orphized and historicized. T h is reunification, in Hegel's version, is an historical progression, going through various stages o f developm ent

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each o f w hich has both its fa lsity and its lim ite d tru th or necessity; and in w hich each subsequent stage incorporates the earlier and transcends it. Each stage has a certain unavoidable necessity; at any given m om ent and place, depending on w hat has been before, o n ly a certain lim ite d kin d o f movement toward the ultim ate u n ity and wholeness can be achieved. T h e u n ity fin a lly attained, however, is not in the nature o f an evenhanded ‘ reconciliation” or compromise in w hich the opposing Subject and O bject come to tolerate and co-operate w ith one another as equals, m a in tain ing th e ir separate and sovereign identities. Rather, th e ir c u l­ m ina tin g u n ity w ill be one in w hich one side, the Subject, u ltim a te ly masters the other, the O bject, and in so doing thereby elim inates its own subjectivity. T h e ultim ate u n ity thus takes place under the dom ination o f the Subject, and by reason o f its in itia tiv e . A t last, the Subject has so deepened its awareness that it recognizes that the O bject is part o f its own being; thus w hat seemed like an autonomous foreign being, an O ther, now appears in its true lig h t as only a d iffe re n t guise o f the Sub­ ject-self. For the M arxist, the comparable cu lm in a tin g m om ent comes when the proletariat has been transform ed from a weak, exploited class—from an enslaved O bject o f the system—from a class as such, in to the master class w ith a new awareness and w ith a new self-consciousness. In be­ com ing a class fo r itself, the proletariat becomes a true Subject, a master rather than a mere slave O bject. In ove rtu rn in g the society, the prole­ tariat u ltim a te ly transform s itse lf; it ceases to be an enslaved “ proletariat” and is now neither Subject nor O bject. T h is ends m ans pre-history and is the culm ination o f all o f history hith e rto . I t takes the form , especially in the H egelian version o f M arxism , o f the overcom ing o f man as a ;passive, enslaved O bject and h u m an ity’s transform ation in to an active Subject m astering the w o rld : hum anistic im perialism . T h e basic aim o f revolution and the deepest m eaning o f hum an lib e r­ ation and o f socialism its e lf were, then, first conceived by M a rx in terms o f (a n d remained deeply rooted in ) this structure o f the H egelian Sub­ ject and O bject w hich are unlabeled metaphors o f master and slave. M a rxist socialism is the p o litica l economy generated by a discourse whose fundam ental grammar premised (a n d sought to overcom e) the subjectobject d iffe re n tia tio n . T w o o f M arxism s fundam ental critiques o f the pathology o f capital­ ism—those o f alienation and o f reification—are, like “ socialism,” in te lli­ gible at the deepest levels only in terms o f the language and tacit as­ sum ptions o f the Subject-O bject d iffe re n tia tio n . T h e M a rxist critiq u e o f

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“ alienation” is an in d ictm e n t o f a society in w hich men make th e ir own history w ith o u t know ing that it is they w ho are m aking it, and w ith o u t having control over the history they make. I f workers are “ alienated from the means o f production,” then, they have no control over these but, on the contrary, are used by them. I f men have been alienated from other men and from themselves, this means that the O ther has an alien Otherness, an unrecognizability and difference from the discerning Subject-self, w ith the result that there is less understanding o f self and O ther, and, also, less self-control and control over the O ther. T o be alienated means to rupture connections of understanding and o f control over things. T o be alienated is to confront a situation in w hich men's access to “ things” is im paired. In the later M a rx and M arxism , enslavement and the tacit obligation to resist enslavement were increasingly historicized. M arxism was ration­ alized historically and p o litic a lly , and grounded ta citly in terms o f a K antian norm o f the moral that holds: ought im plies can. W h ic h is to say, one is obligated to fig h t enslavement when that enslavement is not histo rica lly necessary at a given stage o f historical developm ent, and when there exists an “ historical agent” w ho can provide the “ m aterial” basis fo r that struggle.19 C orrespondingly, enslavement is no longer nec­ essary when there is a p o litica l force—and a technological force—whose needs coincide w ith w hat rational diagnosis indicates. Yet however m uch M arxism turns toward an historicized p o litica l economy, it never to ta lly disengages its e lf from its first im pulse toward a universal hum an em anci­ pation and its paleosymbolism o f enslavement, an im pulse to w hich it reverts increasingly as history falsifies its expectation o f a proletarian revolt in advanced capitalist society. O n page 55 o f the Communist M anifesto , utopian socialism is roundly condemned on historicist grounds, as prem ature, as seeking to launch socialism before its m aterial conditions were prepared, and it is fu rth e r denounced as vo lu n taristic: “ historical action is to yield to th e ir personal inventive action.”20 O n ly five pages later, however, indeed, on its cu l­ m in a tin g last page, the Manifesto declares w ith its recurrent ambivalence that “ communists everywhere support every revolutionary movement against the existing social and p o litica l order o f things . . . no matter what its degree of development at the tim e . . . [and] they openly declare that th e ir ends can be attained only by the forcible overthrow o f all existing social conditions.” 21 In short, if a central m o tif o f the M a n i­ festo was its historicist emphasis on p o litica l em ancipation s dependence on m aterial prerequisites, and if its focus is on em ancipation under capi­ talism , nonetheless, its cu lm in a tin g declaration is a call fo r a universal

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hum an em ancipation, fo r the overthrow o f all existing conditions, and it pledges its support to every revolutionary movement, regardless o f how econom ically and in d u s tria lly backward its society.

C apitalism and Subject-O bject Inversion Fundam ental to the M a rxist notion o f “ c ritiq u e ” —one o f its central rules—is the ideal o f a “ transform ative criticism ,” w hich is also grounded in the subject-object d istin ctio n w ith its tacit rejection o f enslavement. Transform ative criticism inverts the m ystifyin g relations claim ed be­ tween Subject and O bject, showing that w hat had been claim ed to be the O bject was actually the Subject, and vice versa. In J. O 'M a lle y s fo rm u la tio n : Feuerbach made explicit his technique of the subject-predicate conver­ sion utilized earlier in The Essence of C hristianity and presented it as a general method of criticizing speculative philosophy. . . . “A ll we need to do is always make the predicate into the subject . . . in order to have the undisguised, pure and clear truth. . . . W e need only . . . invert the religious relations—regard that as an end which religion sup­ poses to be a means—exalt that into the primary which in religion is subordinate, [and] at once we have destroyed the illusion, and the enclouded lig h t of truth streams in upon us.”22 Leaving aside the glow ing conclusion, it is clear that here the paradigm o f “ m ystification" is conceiving o f religion as having made man. T h e essence o f de-m ystifying “ c ritiq u e ,” then, is to in ve rt that Subject and O bject, now m aking man the Subject and religion the O bject he has made, thus releasing h u m anity from bondage to its own creation. In the course o f the decades-long discussions about the relationships between M a rx and Hegel, and the old and young Marxes, it has become clear that even the m ature M arx's p o litica l economy is grounded in a concept o f critiqu e as an in v e rtin g de-m ystification. B ertell O ilm an's study A lienation: M a rx ’s Conception o f M a n in C apitalist Society (1 9 7 1 ) documents this in convincing detail. S im ilarly, D ic k H ow ard's w ork also stresses that The critique of the mystification of the Hegelian state has its analogue in M arx’s political economy. In Capital . . . M arx devotes an impor­ tant part of the analysis of commodities to the “fetishism” which makes them independent subjects. . . . M arx speaks of the “inversion of sub­ ject and object” and notes later that: “ In the labor process looked at for itself, the worker utilizes the means of production. In the labor process which is equally a capitalistic production process, the means of produc­ tion utilizes the workers. . . . The domination of the capitalist over the

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worker is thus the dom ination of the th in g over the man, of dead labor over the livin g , of the product over the producers. . . . T h is is exactly the same relationship in the material production, in the actual social life process . . . w hich presents itself in the ideological domain in re lig io n : the inversion of subject and object, and vice versa.” 23

In his famous aphorism about tu rn in g Hegel rig h t side up, and stand­ in g h im on his feet, M a rx puts his own relation to Hegel essentially in terms o f such a notion o f transform ative criticism . In these terms, inve r­ sion is presum ably at the heart o f m ystification, and therefore, reversal o f the received Subject-O bject relationship—that is, affirm ing the contrary— is the heart o f de-m ystifying critique. In effect, then, (th e early ) M a rx saw social relationships as on the order of speech processes; as e n ta ilin g a language and grammar. T h e e ffort to analyze social processes was seen as akin to fo rm u la tin g sentences about subjects and objects; a de-m ystifyin g critiq u e o f such an analysis, then, was the proper re-ordering o f the inverted Subject-O bject relationship. T w o im plications o f M arxism 's grounding in the grammar o f SubjectO bject discourse are o f considerable im portance. One is that, given the com m itm ent to critiq u e as transform ative inversion, the falsification o f re a lity tends to be seen as only a gram m atical or logical error. T h e deci­ sive cognitive tool o f critiq u e thus becomes form al and lin g u istic repress­ in g the empirical dim ension as unproblem atic. T h e problem is to fin d the rig h t transform ation, to move from one to another equation. T hus the question o f the em pirical and factual, w hether the facts at hand are sufficient or w hether they need “ testing” and development, is defocalized. T h e em pirical, in short, becomes secondary. Second, given the Subject-O bject d istin ctio n as a conceptual fram e­ w ork, a very specific social ontology is generated in w hich, fo r example, things are either Subjects or Objects b u t not both. Despite Engels's de­ term ined efforts at eluding this im plication , the fundam ental M a rxist d istin ctio n between the economic infrastructure and the socio-ideological superstructure is grounded in and in v is ib ly reproduced by that SubjectO bject grammar. G iven the Subject-O bject grammar, some are m asterful Subjects, w ho produce others, w h ile others are the made, receptive, acted-upon Objects. T h a t is, some m ust be masters, others slaves. One is thus im pelled to categorize things as either makers or made, and to see this as e n ta ilin g a one-directional relationship. A subject-object grammar always comes back to the question: W h o is master here? It generates a social ontology o f hierarchy and hidden hierarchy. T hus the fu ll possi­ b ilitie s o f a w holistic theory, in w hich all are both Subjects and Objects, can o n ly be explored w ith d iffic u lty . T o recapitulate: U nderneath the M a rxist critiqu e o f capitalism w ith

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its diagnosis o f capitalism s pathologies and conception o f its remedies, there is a generalized notion o f “ enslavement,” a labeled m etaphor as w e ll as H egels master-bondsman mythos; and under that is the pow erful b u t unlabeled m etaphor o f Subject and O bject. I t is largely in terms o f this nested system o f metaphors that it becomes possible to understand how M arxism , w hich in its m ature p o litica l economy was an historical critiqu e o f capitalism , could transcend this to become a generalized the­ ory o f revolution, ju s tify in g revolution at almost any tim e and any place in the modem w orld.

Enslavem ent and the Fusion o f Private and P ublic Spheres M arxism s use o f the paleosymbolism o f enslavement perm its it to fuse diverse m odalities o f hum an degradation—man as a tool used in a modem factory, or a th in g -like com m odity bought and sold on the labor m arket, or an anim al brutalized by the misery o f urban slums, or any repressed being subjected to irra tio n a l constraint. These diverse symbols are now brought together, condensed, and made equivalent in the notion o f enslavement w hich , in a ll the instances above, carries the sense o f an u n ju st subjugation o f persons. T h e great m o b ilizin g power o f the enslavement m etaphor derives from its a b ility to fuse sentiments against otherwise separated sectors o f au­ th o rity. In particular, “ enslavement” fuses the rejection o f an irra tio n a l p u b lic a u th o rity grounded in the private life o f the fa m ily system. T h e diffuse paleosymbolism o f enslavement, then, p o w e rfu lly compresses feel­ ings directed toward p u b lic and private life , and especially p o litica l and fa m ily structures, fo r both may be defined as regions o f enslavement. T h e w orker brutalized by capitalist exploitation and the ch ild brutalized by pa­ triarchal authoritarianism fin d a common denom inator in the symbolism o f enslavement. T h e metaph or o f enslavement facilitates the developm ent o f “ deviant” p o litica l values especially w hen economic or social disruption underm ines the fa th e rs a b ility to fu lfill his fa m ily obligations and provide nourish­ m ent, protection, attention, understanding, connections, or love and where, in consequence, there is little or no compensation fo r the costs in flicte d by the fa the rs patriarchal discipline. Above a ll, the middle-class fathers a b ility to reproduce his p o litica l values declines when his status cannot be inherited, w hen the father has no property to transm it and w hen, at the same tim e, em erging systems o f p u b lic education become agencies o f status conferral no longer controlled by the father. F am ily rebellion against the father and his p o litica l values grows as his p u b lic

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a u th o rity wanes, and as his capacity to confer privilege and status on his children is assumed by other in stitu tio n s and authorities. T he disruption o f p u b lic a uthority and the fa ilu re o f fa m ily a u th o rity are then in te r­ woven. T h e enslavement m etaphor plays a part in these linked develop­ ments, fa c ilita tin g the transfer o f sentiments fe lt toward disappointing fa m ily authorities and p e rm ittin g them to be attached to p ublic or p o liti­ cal authorities. T he enslavement m etaphor can capture and redirect fam ily-centered affect and energy, placing it in the service o f revolu­ tionary politics. It structures the fusion o f p u b lic resentment and private rage; it organizes and gathers up energies long accumulated and blocked d u rin g the life cycle, allow ing them a concentrated discharge w ith in the p u b lic sphere. T h e paleosymbolism o f enslavement in M arxism in visib ly taps the vast energies o f the private life , m aking them available fo r p o liti­ cal goals, and specifically fo r a politics opposed to established a u thori­ ties 24

A P P E N D IX : P A L E O S Y M B O L IS M A N D T H E T H E O R Y O F D IS C O U R S E T h e essence o f the paleosymbolic is that it is more readily accessible p ri­ m a rily in private or intim ate circumstances, rather than in the p u b lic and anonymous settings that are the grounding o f rationality. It entails symbols saturated w ith affect, and thus lives at the m u tu a lly meshing interface o f cognition and sentim ent. T h e y are, also, symbols acquired at a relatively earlier period in the education and socialization o f persons, w e ll before university education, w e ll before the age o f intellectual con­ sent. T h e y are, therefore, locked-in symbols, not easily accessible to critica l exam ination by those using them, p a rtly because o f th e ir sur­ rounding a ffectivity. T h e y are also d iffic u lt to isolate as cognitive objects, to make visible and problem atic, in part because they are so closely in te r­ woven w ith the concrete social positions and relationships in w hich they are encountered. T h e y are conveyed to us by “ significant others” on whom we are de­ pendent, w hom we love, whom we fear and hate, and from whom at first we dare not be separated. Paleosymbols are thus integrated w ith in d iv id u a l character structure, on the one side, and, on the other, they are im plicated in fa m ily structure and fam ily-referencing sentiments. In consequence o f this fa m ily im p lica tio n , paleosymbols are linked also to the class and other systems o f dom ination. A m ong the paleosymbols to be found among m any Europeans o f the nineteenth century were the fo llo w in g : greed, venality, money, m aterial

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interest, egoism, selfishness, lust, sexuality, the “ flesh,” sexually, “ lib e r­ ated” women, power, dom ination, force, violence, fraud, Jews or Jew­ ishness, sensual enjoym ent, industriousness, labor, hard w ork, Geist, C h rist and C h ristia n ity, m other and father. For example: among Saint-Sim onians such as E n fa n tin and Bazard, or fo r Schlegels Lucinde, the flesh was beginning to be resurrected; the form er launched a “ dizzying” discussion o f “ free love” and lurched o ff to the M id d le East in search o f a Jewish “ femme lib re ” as priestess o f th e ir new cu lt. T h e flesh was being opened to p u b lic com m unication by sp iritu a lizin g it, often by im p u tin g to women a greater sensitivity and capacity fo r feeling. T h in k , fo r example, o f Com te and C lo tild e de Vaux. For the Comteans, the Saint-Sim onians, and the group around the Schlegels, the flesh was being talked about, rediscovered, probed. Surely, however, this was not the case fo r the Pietists, members o f ch u rchly orders, and good bourgeois fam ilies. A n d w hat bourgeois fa m ily talked p u b lic ly about its own money, how m uch it earned or owned— d id the children or even wives know?—how it was allocated, and w ho controlled expenditures? T h is was a great bone o f contention between parents and sons. T h in k o f M a rx or M a x W eber. Some groups m ig h t talk freely o f God, b u t how m uch o f th e ir own feelings about this did people know; and w hat could be spoken by churchgoers about the in ­ ward death o f God; and how far could proud atheists venture an inw ard exploration or p u b lic expressions o f th e ir own religiosity? For some among the learned classes, God had lite ra lly become “ unspeakable.” A n d surely m odernizing Jews who wanted to break free o f the cu ltu ra l web o f the ghetto and dreamed o f university jobs spoke quite d iffe re n tly than the orthodox about Jews and Jewishness. A n d , o f course, the same paleo­ symbols' bodily gesture is lacking. T h e connection to a particula r con­ text is so strong that the symbol is not independent o f covarying actions. A lth o u g h the paleosymbols represent a pre-linguistic basis fo r the in te r­ subjectivity o f m utual existence and jo in t action, they do not allow p u b lic com m unication in the strict sense o f the word. For the id e n tity o f mean­ in g is not yet granted and the private m eaning associations are s till pre­ va ilin g. T h e privatism o f pre-linguistic symbol organization originates in the fact that the usual distance between sender and addressee as w e ll as the diffe re n tiatio n between symbol signs, semantic content, and items o f reference have not yet been developed. T h e re a lity levels o f being and appearance, o f the p u b lic and the private sphere, cannot yet be clearly differentiated w ith the help o f the paleosymbols.” 25 Habermas's discus­ sion helps c la rify our own form ulations. First, and most im p o rta n tly, he sees the tension between the paleosymbolic and the gramm atic. C e rta in ly this is correct fo r the usual notions o f grammar w h ich premise a set o f

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rules “ mastered” by the speaker, whereas the p o in t o f the paleosymbolic is to make reference to the opaqueness o f the paleosymbolic even to the speaker. T h is is an opaqueness p a rtly derived from the fact that the sym­ bols do not confrom to rules the speaker knows and can acknowledge as correct. For it is mastery o f gram m atic rules that enables speakers to distinguish between correct and incorrect speeches. In m y own view o f the paleosymbolic, however, I have tried to empha­ size the d istin ctio n between p u b lic and hence a gram m atical speech, on the one hand—the kin d o f speech an ideology facilitates—and, on the other, more privatized or intim a te speech w hich, if it has a grammar, has one that differs in im portant structural characteristics from that o f ordinary and “ a rtific ia l” languages or ideologies. T h is suggests that how speakers understand one another in the two cases differs im portantly. It is not so m uch the common mastery o f gram m atical rules that enables them to establish com m unication in more private intim ate com m unica­ tion. In other words, certain kinds o f com m unications, indeed symbolic and lin g u istic com m unications, are possible w ith o u t common mastery of a grammar, enabling the paleosymbolic to transcend the purely p ri­ vatized and to attain social inte rsub je ctivity, at least among intim ates even i f not among strangers in an anonymous p u b lic. O bviously, speakers co n tin u a lly understand one another despite th e ir mistakes, lacunae, and gram m atical failures. Some speakers, o f course, do this better than others: those sharing common experiences, histories, and life-situations, and thus common understandings based on the in dexicality o f speech. T h e y may share a common experience and assign a common m eaning to speech because they share common icons and para­ digms o f memory, not necessarily because they have a common grammar. Grammars (lik e contracts) become more im portant when tacit under­ standings d w indle and are no longer grounded in shared images, when histories cease to be common, when situations and “ fates” are less lik e ly to be shared: W e w ho fought together, w ent to w ar together, were wounded, suffered and bled together; we w ho were hu n gry and unem ­ ployed together; we w ho sat in the back o f the bus together; we w ho had the same nourishing and dom inating mothers and fathers together—we can begin our conversations by saying: remember the tim e when. . . . T h e speech o f intim ates may be ungram m atical b u t in te llig ib le to in ti­ mates, being less like discursive dialogue and more nearly like a monological “ in n e r speech” —in Lev Semenovich Vygotsky's sense. T h a t is, speech o m ittin g reference to the subject; fo r as Vygotsky says, “ we know w hat we are ta lkin g about.” A n d so do our intim ates. Vygotsky adds the decisive sociological p o in t that “ psychological contact between partners in a conversation may establish a m utual perception leading to the under-

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standing o f abbreviated speech . . . a practically wordless com m unica­ tion o f even the most com plicated thoughts.” T h is, he tells us, contains a greater preponderance o f the sense o f a w ord over its “ m eaning” ; a richness o f association rooted in its h isto rica lity, contextuality, indexicality , thus being more flu id and s h iftin g and less context-free than the “ meanings” o f words. M u ch the same is true fo r the more privatized conversation o f intim ates who, know ing the ra m ifyin g sense o f w hat is being said, need not launch discourse. T h e y also know the things not said, the alternatives om itted, the unspoken swb-textual im plications o f w hat has been spoken. T h e relationship between ideology (o r th e o ry), on the one side, and the paleosymbolic, on the other, is thus p ro fo u n d ly ambiguous. Ideology—and, indeed, any rational social theory—attempts to overcome the barriers to com m unication among strangers by g ivin g them a new and common language having a common grammar. Yet even this step toward a new sharing premises an old sharing. I t premises an ordinary lan­ guage w ith a set o f older common paleosymbols, some o f w hich rem ain shared. A n d it also generates new paleosymbolic intim acies among the new, once m u tu a lly unknow n, adherents o f the ideology. In that sense, then, every ideology or theory is grounded in an old, and generates a p a rtia lly new, paleosymbolism, changing old tacit undertandings and generating new ones. T o that extent, every ideology has a tacit doctrine, a sub-textual m eaning, th a t cannot be decoded except by excavation o f its paleosymbols. I do not lim it the paleosymbolic to the pre-linguistic. I allow fo r a con­ ceptual and lin g u istic paleosymbolism w hich is p a rtly social or intersubjective, not to ta lly privatized; w hich is cu ltu ra l and not u n iq u e ly per­ sonal; w hich can be transm itted and taught and not patterned only u n w ittin g ly or non-norm atively. I t is therefore also capable o f being correctly or incorrectly used, and is thus also susceptible to being gram m atically generated, in p rin cip le . It seems to me that there is sometimes an am biguity concerning the mean­ in g o f lin g u istic “ competence.” Does mastery im p ly “ awareness” by the speaker o f the rules to w hich his speech conforms? Can mastery and awareness differ? M u ch o f the thrust o f Basil Bernstein's d istin ctio n between “ restricted” and “ elaborated” language codes, and p a rticu la rly the context-freeness o f the latter, calls attention to awareness (o f the code) as related to b u t not identical w ith mastery. T h u s the paleosymbolic, even as the pre-linguistic, could also have a generative grammar o f its own (F re u d ia n ism ), i f we d id not insist that the speakers m ust be aware o f its rules. A gain, conceptual categorization is not the only basis o f classification, fo r iconic and fu n ctio n a l equiva-

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lence is possible. A grammar o f the pre-linguistic, then, can use iconic and fu n ctio n a l classification. T h e pre-linguistic paleosymbolic, no less than the lin g u istic, can thus in p rin cip le be gram m atically generated. B ut since its grammar differs from the grammar o f ordinary language, we had perhaps best say the tw o constitute d iffe re n t languages w ith consequent problems o f m utual access and translation. B ut to repeat, m y use o f “ paleosym bolic” is on the lin g u istic, the cu l­ tu ra l, and the social levels, although otherwise resem bling Freud’s (and Habermas’s) pre-linguistic paleosymbolic. For example: affective satura­ tion, situation fix ity , or ind e xica lity, rather than freeness, fusions o f sym­ bol and gesture, or action, a low er degree of d iffe re n tia tio n o f sign, m eaning, and referent. Being lin g u istic, the paleosymbolic, as I use it, is therefore closer to a restricted language code or ordinary language w ith its situation-and-position-embeddedness. In this view , then, “ restricted” and “ elaborated” codes are differentiated levels w ith in a language system; the form er O L being the deeper and genetically prio r, the latter E L being grounded in the form er and genetically later. M ost basically, however, the paleosymbolic construed as a restricted lin g u istic code is relatively low er in re fle xivity, is subject to rules that are d iffic u lt for speakers to speak, although they can use them to the satisfaction o f other speakers. In general, it depends m uch less on rules and grammar, and requires relatively specific and concrete avoidances and performances; its stan­ dards o f correctness are relatively more paradigm atic, iconic, or fu n ctio n a l than conceptual and analytical. A lternatives are, therefore, fewer and more d iffic u lt to generate, and action is relatively more stereotyped. A n im portant consideration fo r us is the relationship o f the paleo­ sym bolic to discourse, p a rticu la rly to the w orld-referencing discourse o f either “ ideology” or “ social theory.” T h e concern here is in the relation between the paleosymbolic, on the one side, and ideology and theory, on the other. S till more p a rticula rly, our concern is w ith the m anner in w hich the paleosymbolic is involved in the production o f ideology or theory. In The Dialectic of Ideology and Technology , I sketch a model o f the production o f discourse (th a t is, of an ideology or theory) that encompasses the role o f the paleosymbolic, although also going beyond it to a more general form ulation.

10 Recovery: The Rationality of Marxism, I

M arxism s fundam ental epistemology is often said to be a correspondence or reflection epistemology w hich holds that tru th is that w hich m irrors 'w h a t is.” T h is view o f M arxism is correct as fa r as it goes, b u t it om its several things, one being that the re a lity supposedly m irrored is fu rth e r preconceived by M arxism in a specific m anner. I t is viewed as a "w hole” and, in particular, as a w hole whose parts are not harm oniously ar­ ranged b u t in te rn a lly contradictory. T o e xh ib it tru th , therefore, a M a rx­ ist m ust show how social re a lity constitutes a w hole, and second, display the contradictions by w hich that w hole is riven b u t w hich, at the same tim e, define it. In this respect, M a rxist epistemology c ritic a lly appropri­ ated the Hegelian view that "the tru th is the w hole,” in c lu d in g the idea that the whole is in te rn a lly contradictory. I shall try to reconstruct the tacit logic o f this M a rxist epistemology, and in particular, to make ex­ p lic it certain o f its aspects that are often le ft undeveloped by reason o f the conventional over-emphasis on its correspondence p rin cip le . I begin by relating M a rxist epistemology to the idea o f a "false con­ sciousness.” T h is is n either a deliberate lie nor an accidental mistake, but, rather, a w rong view produced system atically by the speakers social position w ith in the whole. T h e idea o f a false consciousness is grounded in the premise that re a lity is a w hole, fo r it is not possible to locate the speaker except by reference to that w hole; it is also grounded in the fu rth e r premise that the w hole is in te rn a lly contradictory, w hich u lti­ m ately accounts fo r the fa lsity o f his consciousness. T h e idea o f a false consciousness means that not a ll persons or groups are—whatever th e ir 240

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good w ill—able to see the w hole and its contradictions and speak the tru th about them . False consciousness, then, is n either deliberate dis­ sem bling nor a sequence of random technical mistakes. It follow s that n either moral probity, technical tra in in g , logical precision, nor m eticu­ lous research suffices to enable persons to see the whole, fo r this depends (a lso ) upon th e ir position in a riven society. M a rx ’s epistemology, then, does not really deny the value of the knowers’ m oral character or his scholarly competence, but, rather, m erely takes these as givens. H is focus is elsewhere; w hat is problem atic to him is neither research method nor m oral character, but, rather, a kin d o f sociology of knowledge. I t remains o n ly to be added that the idea o f “ false consciousness” is also central to the M a rxist idea o f “ ideology,” that latter being any view professing the false consciousness that it sim ply grows out o f other ideas, not under­ standing its embeddedness in class interests. M a rx ’s epistemology involves an ideology “ c ritiq u e ” that attempts to show that w hat persons know o f the whole is either aided or distorted by th e ir social position and by the everyday life experiences and interests that this system atically generates. M a rxist critiq u e culm inates in showing how persons’ consciousness or knowledge is not autonomous b u t always depends on th e ir social location. “ C ritiq u e ” in general, then, embodies a critiq u e o f philosophical idealism , centering on the denial of the inde­ pendence o f ideas, persistently lin k in g them to the enshadowed social position o f the persons h o ld in g them , and e x h ib itin g how their ideas are system atically lim ite d by th e ir position. I t is in this very lin k in g o f beliefs to believer, or knowledge to knower, and in lin k in g knowers to th e ir social positions, that M a rxism ’s epistemology parallels its anti-fragm ent­ in g politics and sociology. T h is h o listic epistemology im plies that the avenue to tru th is most essentially blocked by the deficiencies o f single propositions about “ w hat is.” In this view , tru th is not reducible to the question o f the re lia b ility o f any single proposition, fo r these are always generated w ith in the shaping perspective o f speakers’ social positions. A n y one statement m ig h t be correct, fa ctu a lly reliable, but nonetheless fa il to convey the w hole and thus lack tru th . N e ith e r the “ correctness” nor “ re lia b ility ” o f statements necessarily entails a truth-bearing p o rtra it o f the whole. W h a t persons can see and say depends on where they are and to whose side they are com m itted, especially in a riven w orld. T h e ir location fosters an ideology whose perspective impedes or facilitates tru th . Each w ill be more fu lly open to truths that fa cilitate his interests, or are consonant w ith his typical everyday experiences and w ith the ideologies emerging from these. A “ vulgar p o litica l economy” pretending that the categories o f capitalism are eternal, says M arx, is distorted by the interests of the

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bourgeoisie whose perspective it takes; contrariw ise, when thinkers adopt the standpoint o f the proletariat they are liberated from these distortions o f the bourgeois perspective. M a rx ta citly and dubiously assumes that a working-class perspective imposes no lim its o f its own on tru th since it is a universal class th a t cannot emancipate its e lf w ith o u t overthrow ing a ll exploitative class sys­ tems; he assumes that its revolution w ill overthrow class differences w ith o u t im posing a new exploitative class, and w ill thus emancipate so­ ciety from all class-lim ited tru th -d isto rtin g perspectives. Since it is class exploitation that distorts, tru th requires the elim ination o f exploitation. T h u s the p o in t is not to add another new interpretation o f the w orld b u t to change it and, through this, provide a new grounding o f tru th , and, in that very process, to learn about ourselves and the w orld. I t is not by accepting the w orld that one acquires tru th —fo r th a t w ould be accepting w hat is in any event only a transient appearance—b u t only by a struggle to overcome and reveal its deceptive, ephemeral appearance, and by showing not aw hat is” b u t w hat is becoming.

T h e Struggle fo r Recovery T h e M a rxist epistemology o f truth-as-whole is not the same as the liberal conception o f tru th w hich says: there are "tw o sides to everything” and that we attain tru th by seeing them both. For one th in g , M arxism does n o t m aintain th a t there are always tw o sides to everything, a fu n ctio n a l or rational side as w e ll as a pathological or irra tio n a l side, at any given tim e. M arxism holds th a t certain groups can be historically progressive and necessary d u rin g certain lim ite d historical periods, b u t can cease being so at a later period. M oreover, to see a ll sides o f a question often results in cre d itin g a social d e fin itio n o f re a lity th a t is already w id e ly believed because it is supported by dom inant groups and contributes to th e ir hegemony. T h is sim ply lends them fu rth e r support and leaves the w orld as we found it. T h a t kin d o f liberal holism is a form o f inte lle ctu a l bookkeeping that always reinforces the status quo. Far from being the tru th , M arxism be­ lieves that whole is a lie . For it ends by cre d itin g the already fa m ilia r, self-serving definitions o f social re a lity useful to the hegemony o f the dom inant and m ust, therefore, m aintain silence about things embar­ rassing to them. M a rxist "c ritiq u e ,” however, does not aim to repeat w hat is already w ell know n; it does not speak even-handedly about the w id e ly known and the unknow n, the already fa m ilia r and the u n fa m ilia r, the repressed and the advertised. M a rxist critiqu e , rather, focuses on w hat has been silenced and repressed system atically; hence it m ust also speak

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about and against those social forces pow erful enough to censor d e fin i­ tions o f social re a lity at variance w ith its own interests. M a rxist epistemology is grounded therefore in a rejection o f passive contem plation and in an emphasis on struggle. K n o w in g is not regarded sim ply as a frictionless retrieval or direct discovery of tru th but, rather, as the com bating o f error. T o this extent, M a rxist epistemology is d i­ rectly continuous w ith the epistemology o f classical a n tiq u ity. For Greeks o f H e lle n ic a n tiq u ity, aletheia ( tr u th ) is that w hich has now been ren­ dered no longer concealed or forgotten; it is that w hich has been cleansed o f deceit. T h e knower, therefore, m ust engage in a contest to remove the disguises and distortions that hide things; the inte lle ctu a l sublim ation and expression o f that truth-questing contest d u rin g a n tiq u ity was the dialectic, the fric tio n o f m inds. T ru th , then, is not w hat is im m ediately visible through mere acquaintance; it is attained not by a surrender or passive opening o f the self to the w orld, b u t by active struggle against the w orld's resistance. M arxism 's epistemology fundam entally accepts and builds on this classical notion o f tru th b u t sociologizes and politicizes the struggle by w hich it is to be attained. In part, this may be seen in its critiq u e o f dom inant definitions o f social re a lity that e xh ib it th e ir inversion of reality. M a rxist critiqu e , in one form at any rate, entails the idea of “ transform ative criticism ," in the course o f w hich one shows that that w hich had been conventionally treated as the subject was really the predicate, and vice versa. T h e form er view is not o n ly held to be w rong, b u t upside down. T h is is a very aggressive posture. H ere tru th is being sought through inte lle ctu a l combat: by taking issue w ith tra d itio n , defy­ in g the common sense, challenging definitions o f social re a lity fostered by dom inant social classes. B u t M arxism 's fundam ental aim is not sim ­ p ly that o f aletheia, to reveal w hat has been hidden, b u t rather to reveal and transform w hat has been hidden. C ritiq u e also entails a “ de-m ystification" w hich proceeds by showing that even the most technical, esoteric, or learned idea is grounded in the m undane practice o f the everyday. C ritiq u e rejects the conceit o f the learned that they are in any way autonomous, as a self-serving ignorance. T o de-m ystify is to e xh ib it the repressed connection between the highest ideas and the basest interests, between s p iritu a lity and earthiness, be­ tween the speech and the speaker in his social role. C ritiq u e premises that definitions o f social re a lity—the picture o f w hat society is lik e —always have im plications fo r m a in ta in in g or changing society and are, therefore, always grounded in som ething outside o f themselves. T h e y w ill be supported by the pow erful when they fu rth e r th e ir hegemony, b u t opposed by them when im p a irin g th e ir hegemony.

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T o search for tru th , then, means to co nfront pow erful forces prepared to impose th e ir views and, indeed, to m aintain distortions, w hen this suits th e ir interests. T o search fo r tru th means that one either prepares fo r combat against real social forces—and not ju st against an abstract “ na­ ture” —or else knuckles under. T ru th is produced in struggle; it is n o t sim ply a product o f intelligence b u t also o f courage.

Fetishism: Recovering the Secret There is little question th a t M a rx conceived his in te lle ctu a l w ork as uncovering that w hich had been hidden; and he conceived the hiddenness o f certain features o f capitalism as o f decisive im portance in m ain­ ta in in g its class character. M arx, him self, repeatedly presented his w ork as revealing w hat had h ith e rto been a secret and mystery. T h u s M a rx spoke o f ownership as the deepest m ystery and the concealed basis o f the w hole social system: “ it is always the direct relationship o f the owners o f the conditions o f production to the direct producers . . . w hich reveals th a t innerm ost secret ( innerste Geheimnis ) , the hidden basis o f the entire social structure, and w ith it the p o litica l form . . . in short, the corresponding specific form o f the State.” 1 I t is thus not ju st said that the direct relation o f workers to ow ner is the foundation o f the society and state, b u t more specifically, that it is th e ir hidden basis and inner­

most secret. T h e idea that social re a lity is hidden and that its disguise contributes to the m aintenance o f capitalism ’s class character is in trin s ic to M a rx ’s notion o f “ fetishism .” T h is refers to “ a definite social relation between men . . . [w h ic h ] assumes in th e ir eyes, the fantastic form o f a relation between things . . . th e ir own social action takes the form o f the action o f objects, w hich rule the producer instead o f being ruled by them .” 2 T h is fetishism is a form o f m ystification w hich disguises hum an relations as object relationships; it inverts reality, transform ing men w ho should be the subjects o f history in to its objects. D e-m ystification, then, clearly requires a transform ative criticism th a t inverts appearances, allo w in g object relations to be seen as hum an relations, and restoring men to th e ir legitim ate subjecthood. From this p o in t, then, the most generalized form o f m ystification is the transform ation (disguise) o f social and hum an actions in to natural, non-hum an things. T h e remedy, de-m ystification, thus requires that the “ n a tu ra l” be revealed, as the doing or m aking o f hum an beings in a specific kin d o f society. M en m ust be called back to the knowledge that they are im plicated in history, that the w orld became w hat it did (a t least p a rtly ) through th e ir own actions (and can, therefore, be changed

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by th e m ). In critique's de-m ystification, then, w hat occurs is the over­ com ing of men's forgetfulness. C ritiq u e , then, is the recovery of a knowledge that they had already hady at least at the tacit level. D e­ m ystification, therefore, is not ju st rem edying ignorance, for ignorance is a know ing that had never existed—a kin d o f emptiness. Forgetfulness, however, is a know ing that had existed b u t was lost; it is once having know n. B ut men cannot be supposed to have had no glimpse at all o f w hat they themselves were doing in the w orld, o f th e ir own im plica tion in events. Rather, they had been subjected to certain social forces that made th e ir role opaque, even to themselves. M arx's epistemology, then, im plies an untheorized, tacit “ doctrine o f recovery," ca llin g men back to a knowledge o f themselves and th e ir ac­ tio n , knowledge that they at least had developed tacitly, b u t w hich they subsequently repressed or forgot. T h is forgetting, repression, silence, or inarticulateness about th e ir own lives and actions, however, is not sim ply some in n e r cognitive condition, b u t is produced by determ inate social forces; it thus cannot be recovered sim ply by rem inding them o f it. T h e social forces conducive to the fo rg e ttin g need to be removed before the recovery can take place in p u b lic life .3 M arxism 's tacit doctrine o f recovery, then, is clearly continuous w ith the H egelian u n fo ld in g o f the Geist, an u n fo ld in g in w hich the S p irit at last recognizes that the w orld is not ju st fu ll o f alien objects but discovers its own presence in them , fin a lly recognizing its e lf in them. Yet this c o n tin u ity w ith Hegel is only a p artial one; fo r the recovery that M a rx premises cannot take place sim ply through an in n e r or self-unfolding o f consciousness but only through hum an action in and upon the w orld, rem oving the forces disguising reality. T h a t this doctrine o f recovery is also m anifestly convergent w ith Freudian psychoanalysis, in w hich there is also a recovery o f the unconscious, is due not to a tacit Freudianism here b u t rather to the historical fact that both M a rx and Freud oper­ ated—however c ritic a lly —w ith in the fram ew ork o f the H egelian grammar o f the u n fo ld in g sp irit seeking to overcome its own fragm entation.

M arxism : Economism or Recovery W e are now in a better position to state more precisely w hat M arxism is about. I t is not only about proprietary classes, or o n ly about class strug­ gle and exploitation, but about a capitalist society in w hich these are all disguised. M arxism is about hidden classes, hidden class struggle, and hidden exploitation. M arxism is about a class, the proletariat, that exists at first o n ly as an object o f history, in itself, b u t w ith o u t consciousness o f itse lf, w ith o u t know ing itse lf, and unable therefore to be “ for its e lf," and

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w hich does not yet know its great historical mission and destiny. M a rx­ ism is not o n ly about the im portance o f the mode o f production as the grounding o f c iv il society and the state but, also, about the w ay this grounding has been secreted from p u b lic view . M arxism is not o n ly about the im portance o f the economic infra stru ctu re b u t about the im ­ portance o f an infrastructure that had been disguised. M arxism , in short, is about how disguise is an integral part o f the w ay social things produce th e ir effects. I t is about the role o f knowledge, and the lack o f kn o w l­ edge, in m a in tain ing and in changing capitalism ’s social w orld. M a rx makes it perfectly plain that capitalism is not unique in being exploitative; it is o n ly the latest in a long lin e o f class exploitative soci­ eties, b u t it is unique, he tells us, p a rtly by reason o f the hidden charac­ ter o f its exploitation. T h e w orld o f capitalism seems to be one in w h ich the com m odity and its relation to other commodities is its central d e fin in g essence, and in w hich 'c a p ita l” seems to be another "fa cto r” in produc­ tion. B u t this conceals the way in w hich capital is actually a social rela­ tionship, in w h ich the owners o f the means o f production produce by b u yin g the labor power o f workers who, lacking property, are constrained to sell th e ir labor power and w ork under the constraint o f others. T h e relations among commodities, expressed in th e ir d iffe re n t prices, conceal the relationships among men and classes. So w hat is character­ istic o f capitalism , then, is not sim ply general com m odity production b u t the fetishism o f commodities, a specifically cognitive condition, among other things. U nder slavery, products were produced by slaves under the d irect command o f th e ir owners and it was quite clear to everyone that masters were appropriating w hat slaves produced. M a rx makes a sim ilar p o in t about the openly exploitative character o f feudalism . C apitalism , then, is held to be unique p a rtly in the hidden character o f its exploita­ tion. Yet at this p o in t there is a certain tension w ith in M arxism . As a "m a­ terialism ,” M arxism stresses that capitalism ’s character is an objective one, that it does not depend sim ply on w hat men th in k —or know ; it assumes here that cognitive processes are a reflection o f the forces and relations o f production. H ere, knowledge about class relations is separate from and secondary to the infrastructure o f production. In the specific conception o f capitalism as a fe tish izin g economy, however, this kn o w l­ edge—the sheer know ing and fo rg e ttin g o f m en’s relations—is in trin s ic to capitalism ’s character and is embedded w ith in its relations o f produc­ tion. From the standpoint o f M a rx ’s theory o f fetishism , the disguised character o f w orker-ow ner relationships is thus at the very core o f capitalism —not a peripheral epiphenom enon—preserving and protecting u n iq u e ly the hegemony o f owners.

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Recovery and T a c it K now ing One version o f the doctrine o f recovery—as already suggested—was fo r­ m ulated in the H egelian philosophy o f the u n fo ld in g Geist whose quest culm inates in its recognition that it its e lf is im plicated in w hat it had first thought to be a w orld o f alien objects. T h a t doctrine is probably a lineal descendant of classical a n tiq u ity ’s theory o f remembrance w hich, in its Pythagorean form , premised a notion o f reincarnation: i.e., being reborn, man forgot w hat his past life had taught him , but, under certain conditions, comes to remember it. T h e core o f the doctrine o f recovery is that the tru th is not totally unknow n or new to those receiving it; that it is som ething anticipated by the knower or learner; that various forces have somehow led h im to lose sight o f it; and that to offer tru th is to offer back w hat was once known b u t had been forgotten. I t is knowledge from w hich the person has become alienated and that he could not hold-in-view but had only glim psed fleetingly. I t im plies that tru th is preceded and prepared fo r by a kn o w in g —as M ichael Polanyi terms it —that is tacit. T h e doctrine o f recovery, then, im plies that tru th does not sim ply face “ forw ard” in to the social w orld b u t also reaches “ backward” in to the know ers life . In the doctrine o f recovery, tru th is not just another b it o f im personal inform ation b u t a know ing about how our lives are im plicated in the w orld and touched by knowledge o f it. T ru th is a knowledge fo r w h ich our lives have readied us. T ru th is not sim ply externalizing. It addresses som ething already experienced, im p ly in g that these experi­ enced things elude recovery through the ordinary language and thus remain elusive or opaque in the everyday life . T h e doctrine o f recovery im plies that tru th is trapped in the lim its o f ordinary language, and hence that it is at first know n only in a gauzy, tacit, and hence unstable way. “ Recovery” enables these lim its o f the everyday life , the common sense and the ordinary language to be over­ come; enables the tacitness to become an explicitness; perm its the fleet­ in g glimpse to be held firm ly in view; helps the m erely private to be­ come p u b lic. T h e doctrine o f recovery sees tru th as a condition w hich persons rec­ ognize because they have previously encountered it, b u t could not grasp and speak it. Recovery is the overcom ing o f a charged silence; one that wanted to speak but could not. T h e doctrine o f recovery thus premises the view that tru th resonates a memory and produces the sense o f deja vu. “ A genuine learning is . . . an extrem ely peculiar taking,” remarks Heidegger, “ a taking where he w ho takes, takes only w hat he already

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has. . . . T ru e learning only occurs where the taking o f w hat one al­ ready has is a self-giving and is experienced as such. . . . T h e most d iffic u lt learning is to come to know all the way what we already kn o w ”4 Such a learning, however, cannot sim ply be accomplished by a re­ search, fo r this does n o t set aside the tru th -d isto rtin g and in h ib itin g social forces. T h e learning and achieving o f tru th is n o t like fillin g a receptive vacuum, b u t the overcom ing o f a resistance. T h e M a rxist version o f the doctrine o f recovery premises that the tru th requires a critiq u e o f the social forces d isto rtin g knowledge as w e ll as o f the dis­ tortion in the knowledge itse lf. C ritiq u e culm inates in a transform ation o f the social w orld that revolutionizes in stitu tio n s in im ica l to tru th . W h ile M arxism embodied a specific version o f the doctrine o f recov­ ery, however, it never spoke or theorized it more generally. T h e doc­ trin e was there, it was operative, b u t it rem ained silent. T h e e ffort here has been to recover that doctrine o f recovery in M arxism . In doing so, however, and in any more general appraisal o f the doctrine o f recovery, it is im portant to see that it does not necessarily entail the assumption that all forg e ttin g is m otivated, as M a rx s emphasis im plies. C e rta in ly, m o ti­ vated forgetting, fo rg e ttin g induced by sociological or psychic pressures, is one im portant type o f forgetting. T here are, however, at least two others: there is fo rg e ttin g induced by the structural and lexical features o f a specific language w hich may not enable persons to fix a p a rticula r th ought or object in view , thus causing it to be forgotten readily. T here is also fo rg e ttin g induced by “ problem -distraction.” T o focus on one th in g is to occlude others. H ere fo rg e ttin g occurs sim ply because im mersal in an im m ediate problem distracts attention from other things, le ttin g them become remote and lost to view . H ere concentration in one direction necessarily means an in a b ility to attend elsewhere. Indeed, it is one o f the m ain functions o f h o listic analysis to overcome the lim its o f ad hoc, problem-centered th in k in g , w ith its tendency to forget that there is more than one type o f problem and its d iffic u lty in carrying forw ard in to the analysis o f a new problem w hat had been learned from an old one.

M arxism : Recovering W h a t fo r W hom ? M arxism 's attraction and success in the w orld is due in part to the fact that M arxism is a recovery o f w hat was form erly only tacit knowledge, is due also to the specific things it recovers, and is due, fu rth e r, to the par­ ticu la r publics to w hom it offers these recoveries and for whom they constitute a recovery. Som ething can be a recovery fo r some person, b u t rarely fo r all. Som ething is a recovery o n ly fo r those to w hom it had

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h ith e rto been know n tacitly. W h a t is a recovery fo r some may have little interest and value to others w ith d iffe re n t experiences. H o w d id M arxism fu n ctio n concretely as a doctrine o f recovery? In a p re lim in a ry way, it has to do w ith the dialectic between technology, as the then most recently visible force o f production, in its interaction w ith a property system driven by private venality. Engelss field w ork in M a n ­ chester, as w e ll as his experience as a businessman, clearly focused his attention on the im portance o f the developing ind u stria l and technologi­ cal revolution. M odern technology was changing dram atically and it was clear that concern w ith subsistence-getting d id not altogether en­ compass that new developm ent. W h a t M a rx and Engels did was to lin k the two, m aking both focal, and proceeded to show how the significance o f modem technology depended im p o rta n tly on its rooting in commerce. In short, w h ile the in d u stria l revolution was fu lly visible, w hat was less so was the m anner in w hich it had been called fo rth by bourgeois com­ merce. M a rx and Engels revealed the grounding o f the new technology in commerce rather than treating it as Saint-Sim on had, as the direct out­ grow th o f advances in science. B u t more than that, they also held that the private property form d id not sim ply foster b u t also lim ite d the new forces o f production, generating a contradiction between the forces and relations o f production. I t is this contradiction and, in particular, the in h ib ito ry effects o f the 'property system on technology, that are system­ a tica lly occluded in the everyday understanding o f the system. M arxism could thus indicate the am biguity o f commerce, acknowledg­ in g its re vo lu tio n izin g effects upon technology, w h ile also deploring that it uses technology o n ly insofar as it produces p ro fit. M arxism promises that there w ill come a tim e when the forces o f production w ill be blocked by the property form and w ill then need to be overthrow n. T h u s com­ m ercial ve n a lity is seen as generating short-run benefits and long-run costs. W h ile technology, itse lf, is also viewed as ambiguous, its short-run benefits are p rim a rily to owners w h ile its im m ediate costs are paid by the masses o f workers; b u t in the long run, technology lays the groundw ork fo r the overcom ing o f scarcity required fo r socialism. In this dialectic between the forces and relations o f production, it is clear that the form er, forces o f production, are not reducible to technology, yet this is its concrete paradigm o f most im portance to M a rx and Engels. T h e forces o f production and technology are m utual metaphors. I t is the new technology that promises to release m ankind from bondage to ancient scarcity, p e rm ittin g the movement to socialism to go forw ard. I t is the property system that exploits this technology fo r private gain and w hich u ltim a te ly blocks its co n tin u in g developm ent, even though at

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first accelerating it. T h u s the C om m unist M anifesto asserts that “ . . . the theory o f the Com m unists may be summed up in a single sentence: A b o litio n o f private property.” A n d more: “ T h e distin g u ish in g feature o f Com m unism is not the abolition o f property generally, b u t the aboli­ tion o f bourgeois property.” N o w in this respect, M a rx s socialism clearly and firm ly transcended the common sense o f the E nlig h te n m e n t w h ich had held private prop­ erty sacrosanct. M a rx could do this, however, because he could b u ild upon the critiq u e o f private property form ulated by the Saint-Sim onians, to w hom inheritance had been a fundam ental problem atic. T h e SaintSimonians believed private property in the means o f production im plied its possible inheritance by incom petents and could thus be wasted as a social resource. T h e y saw this largely as a problem o f the ra tio n a lity o f production at the level o f the in d ivid u a l managers relation to his firm and not, as M a rx came to see it, as a problem o f collectivizing and in ­ tegrating the separate firm s. In m any other respects, however, one is dum bfounded by the convergences between the M a rxist and SaintSim onian views about property. T h e crucial account is that o f the eighth exposition o f the SaintSim onian doctrine, the n ig h t o f M arch 25, 1829, w hich deals w ith mod­ ern theories o f property. T h is begins by n o tin g that the historical pro­ gression from the abolition o f slavery to the French revolution has meant “ the destruction o f almost a ll privileges o f b irth . . . .” 5 “ A lm ost,” fo r there remains the inconsistency o f an abiding privilege—inheritance o f property. “ T h is heritage o f our fathers is surrounded by an aura o f re­ spect. I t is the forbidden ground upon w hich even the hothead cannot tread. T h is tru ly religious susceptibility,” said the Saint-Sim onians, is found not only among reactionary people b u t also and m iraculously “ among the enemies o f superstition and fanaticism , among the apostles o f the em ancipation o f thought, free e n q uiry and doubt, b u t above a ll among the partisans o f hum an p e rfe c tib ility .” 6 A critiqu e o f property, insist the Saint-Sim onians, w ill not be found among the p o litica l econo­ mists, the m a jo rity o f whom “ and above all Say (in whom nearly a ll the others are summed u p ) consider property as an existing fact, the o rig in , progress, and u tility o f w h ich they do not exam ine.” 7 W h a t had captured the attention o f the E nlig h te n m e n t and its p h ilosophes was the explosion o f knowledge, the deification o f reason, and the advance o f science; and, in the German case, the culm ination o f all philosophy in H egel—as he h im se lf was not too modest to m ention. In contrast to the philosophes, w ho had extolled lib e rty, equality, fra te rn ity, the Saint-Sim onian and P ositivist—the tw o then s till being in tim a te ly

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lin ke d —argued that w hat the revolution had really in stitu te d was indus­ try and science, and above all, science applied to ind u stry and thus new ly capable o f e lim in a tin g scarcity. If, on the one side, every respectable element o f society focused on science, technology, and the advance o f science, on the other (noted the S aint-Sim onians), radicals such as Babeuf and Buonorotti had centered th e ir grievances upon the need for an absolute equality. B ut these “ dreams o f e q u ality” were not the Saint-Sim onians’ : “ Saint-Sim on’s doc­ trin e cannot give rise to such an absurdity. . . .” 8 T h is converges w ith the M a rxist position in w hich, too, equality is not the central project, but rather, the reconstitution o f property w hich the Saint-Sim onians had earlier made central. T h e Saint-Sim onians’ enemy is “ property by rig h t o f b irth and not by rig h t o f a b ility, it is inheritance.” 9 T h e y thus condemned all the econo­ mists because “ they all speak o f the necessity o f m a in tain ing property. B ut slavery and serfdom were also rights o f property.” 10 F in a lly, and M a rx never said it more p la in ly in his discussion o f the relation o f infra and super-structures, “ the economists o f the eighteenth century based th e ir p o litica l system on the interest o f owners.” Inheritance gives b irth to a class o f men created m erely fo r pleasure, allow ing the children o f the privileged to devour w ealth w hich , were it better divided, w ould serve to establish a ll.11 T h e proletariat is now invoked by name; it is expressly characterized as the “ d isin h e rited ” —those w ho in h e rit no prop­ erty. W h a t is done today, asked the Saint-Sim onians, “ for the wretched proletarians disinherited. . . . N o th in g ; misery, isolation, despair and death are th e ir destiny and fu tu re .” T h e solution, then, is “ . . . to de­ term ine through law in a general way that the use o f workshops or instrum ents o f industry always passes, after death or retirem ent o f the man w ho used it, in to the hands o f the man most able to replace the deceased.” 12 It is because M arxism builds upon this analysis that the M anifesto p la in ly states that the d istinguishing feature o f com m unism is the aboli­ tion o f property, m eaning the abolition o f inheritance in productive prop­ erty. M arxism takes the abolition o f inheritance as given; this is its own inheritance from the Saint-Sim onians. In m aking property focal, how ­ ever, it does not p a tie n tly w a it fo r the death o f owners, and its attention is directed to the question o f w ho exactly does replace the private owner, to w hich the C om m unist M anifesto answers quite p la in ly, the State. T hen M arxism asks, how shall it be replaced, and the M anifesto again answers clearly and p la in ly : by “ forcible overthrow .” It is because M a rx­ ism raises and answers these questions as it did, that it conceives its e lf as

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having gone beyond its predecessors. I t conceives them as “ utopians” because they had not understood the task as re q uiring the m obilization o f power fo r the struggle against the capitalist class and its state. B u t there are problems here: i f the idea that property was the “ fo u n ­ dation” o f the social order was a commonplace o f p o litica l economy, and indeed o f popular, everyday m aterialism , and i f even the E n lightenm ent had held it sacred, how, then, could M arxism offer this “ commonplace” — the im portance o f property as the grounding o f p o litica l and social or­ der—as such an eye-opening revelation? Indeed, a better question is: to whom can these “ discoveries” seem so striking? P rim a rily to intellectuals . T h e Saint-Sim onians’ emphasis on the p rio rity o f m e rit over inheritance, as the basis for allocating property, signals a new historical situation in w h ich property and educational privilege were no longer united. Saint-Sim onism was the ideology o f the educationally privileged, and it is b u ilt in to the very grounding o f M arxism . T h e defense o f privileges in terms o f “ a b ility ” is the vested interest o f the educated and intellectuals. M oreover, that a social recon­ struction o f the property system w ould be brought about by a power struggle is, again, a strikin g idea p rim a rily to intellectuals, whose e n lig h t­ enm ent traditions had h ith e rto drawn them to reform through education and rational persuasion. Intellectuals generally regarded ideas, not prop­ erty, as the prim e mover o f society, most especially if, like M arx, they had been steeped in the tra d itio n o f German philosophical idealism . In short, property as the foundation o f the social order appears as an earthshaking discovery o n ly to intellectuals. I t appears so because th e ir com­ mon ideology had norm ally stressed the prim acy o f ideas, theories, language—consciousness. T h us, radicalized intellectuals recover the ex­ perience o f th e ir parents; that w hich had been told them and w h ich they had rejected. T o p u t the m atter more precisely: the idealistic M andarin cu ltu re o f intellectuals was dissonant w ith the experience o f th e ir own everyday life in an em erging bourgeois culture whose “ vu lg a rity” gave pride o f place not to ideas, b u t to money and property. (L o o k at M a rx’s tirade against m oney.) A status group such as intellectuals could then m aintain a culture nucleated by philosophical idealism o n ly by fostering a radical isolation from the rest o f society a n d /o r by a massive repression o f bour­ geois society’s dissonant m aterialist assumptions. M arxism releases in te l­ lectuals from that isolation and from that repression. I t enables in te lle c­ tuals to “ recover” the im portance o f property and money w h ich , w h ile p la in ly exhibited in th e ir own everyday lives, and in th e ir parents’ lives, was sim ultaneously shrouded by the very d iffe re n t conceptions o f th e ir specific occupational culture and education. M arxism not o n ly enables

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intellectuals to b rin g property in to firm view , but at the same tim e offers the com forting promise that its days are num bered and calls fo r its abolition. S till more: M arxism regards the forces o f production as being blocked and thw arted at some p o in t by the property system. T h e thw arted forces o f production are p la in ly associated w ith a d iffe re n t group—w ith the practitioners o f science and technology. T hus w h ile M arxism ’s text speaks o f the fu tu re as an em ancipation of the proletariat, its sub-text im plies that it is a liberation o f the scientific intelligentsia from the ignorant hegemony o f owners. M arxism thus offers a fu tu re w hich is com fortable both to hum anistic intellectuals who believe that higher values have been vulgarized by property, and lib e ra tin g to the techno­ logical interests and am bitions o f the scientific intelligentsia. M arxism thus u n iq u e ly provides a grounding for the u n ity o f the N ew Class, w hich is otherwise divided among older hum anistic intellectuals and modem technicians and scientists. M arxism is thus at once a m anifest critiq u e o f moneyed capital and the bourgeoisie, but it is the latent ideology o f the educationally privileged, o f a cu ltu ra l bourgeoisie w ith “ hum an capital.” Its promise to resolve the contradictions between the forces and the relations o f production has “ liberative” im plications not only fo r society-in-general, nor ju st for impersonal “ technology” or “ sci­ ence,” b u t for a very specific social group, the N ew Class o f educated intellectuals and intelligentsia. For a fu n ctio n cannot be liberated w ith ­ out lib e ra tin g the functionary. Yet i f M arxism were a recovery g ra tifyin g to the N ew Class alone, it w ould isolate N ew Class members rather than enabling them to attract a large fo llo w in g that could m obilize power in society. W e must, therefore, consider how M arxism succeeded in generating favorable attention in a broader p ublic, recovering things o f interest to a larger group.

O n the Necessity o f E v il In larger measure this has to do w ith the m anner in w hich M arxism brings the “ economic” in to focal attention. W h ile in popular, everyday m aterialism , property is com m only believed to be the “ foundation o f social order,” at the same tim e, property and the economic are also the object o f suspicion and distrust. For example, it is com m only held that “ money is the root o f all e v il,” and w idely fe lt—and not only among the educated—that property and the economic are the realm o f the selfish, the d irty , the base, the uncharitable, the egoistic. From the standpoint o f believing (as d istin ct from a S unday) C h ristia n ity, economic interests may be defined as selfish and in im ica l to C hristian charity and brother-

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hood. T h e economic, then, w h ile w id e ly praised in popular m aterialism is, nonetheless, an object o f ambivalence in a C hristian culture. T h is ambivalence toward the economic is organized in a special way; there is considerable awareness o f and respect fo r its power in the w orld, b u t considerably less conviction that the economic is a m orally “ good” th in g , or that its effects upon the w orld are desirable. M arxism helps resolve these ambivalences about the economic. I t does this in part by confirm ing the potency o f the economic, by enabling this potency to be seen as som ething more than a personal m otive or “ hum an nature” but, rather, as an historical force. M arxism both allays and represses unease about the “ goodness” o f the economic. I t acknowledges the suffering it produces fo r the poor, b u t m aintains that this is o n ly a transient evil, fo r the bourgeois mode o f production is layin g the groundw ork o f emancipa­ tion from the realm o f scarcity. M arxism also largely de-focalizes the question o f the goodness o f the economic, view in g this as a m oralizing sentim entality w ith w h ich it has n o th in g in common. M arxism instead stresses that the economic is the realm o f necessity, that the evil it does is also necessary, u n til the conditions requisite for the e lim in atio n o f present suffering have m atured. Yet w h ile de-focalizing the im m o ra lity o f the economic and subordi­ n a tin g it to necessity, the evolutionary narrative drama o f M arxism al­ ways intim ates an ultim a te punishm ent. In tim e, the kn e ll o f history w ill rin g out, signaling w hat is clearly a re trib u tio n , nam ely, that “ the expropriators w ill be expropriated.” T h e y w ill reap as they have sown. T h e y w ill pay. T h e reconstitution o f property so central to M arxism is thus both a p o litica l deed and a passion play in w h ich justice is done. Its cu lm in a tin g, most v iv id act, however, is not g ivin g property to those w ho had suffered, b u t taking it away from the bourgeoisie; it is not an act o f restitution b u t o f re trib u tio n . C e rta in ly M arxism does not new ly reveal the evil o f technology and economic developm ent to the p ro le ta ria t. As Engels saw in his study o f the w orkin g class in England, the source o f th e ir misery was p la in . W h a t M arxism does, however, is to make th e ir suffering m eaningful and there­ fore more bearable. D e fin in g it as a necessary b u t transient stage in th e ir ultim ate em ancipation, th e ir suffering is transform ed in to an occasion fo r a self-redeeming discipline. M arxism guarantees the proletariat both its em ancipation and the necessity o f its tem porary suffering, teaching them to bear it in anticipation o f a new w orld. W orkers ought to under­ stand, wrote M arx, that “ . . . w ith all the miseries it imposes upon them , the present system sim ultaneously engenders the m aterial condi­ tions and the social forms necessary fo r an economic reconstruction o f society.” 13 A gain, “ Fanatically bent upon the expansion o f value, he

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[the capitalist] relentlessly drives hum an beings to production fo r pro­ duction's sake, thus brings about a developm ent o f social p ro d u ctivity and the creation o f those m aterial conditions o f production w hich can alone form the real basis o f a higher type o f society. . . .” 14 In this dialectic, there is a u n ity o f opposites, o f evil and good, a necessary lin k between the misery o f the present and the em ancipation o f the fu ture . M arxism thus teaches—peripherally b u t p o w e rfu lly—the necessity of evil and the need to harden oneself to it. T h e standpoint is H egelian, in seeking the rational kernel o f any economic system, view ing it as having a period d u rin g w hich it is his­ to rica lly progressive and cannot yet be superseded. Each socio-historical system is thus an historical epoch in a larger evolutionary pattern, arising out o f w hat has gone before, yet transcending it and laying the ground­ w ork for the stage that w ill succeed it, and toward w hich it moves via its own inte rna l contradictions. Even the capitalist system, then, has a progressive role to play d u rin g certain periods o f its development, i.e., w h ile it s till contributes to the developm ent o f productive forces rather than blocking them. Indeed, a socioeconomic system in flicts costs, pain, and suffering—even d u rin g its progressive phase. B ut these must then be borne, paid as nec­ essary costs on the b ill history submits. Insofar as capitalism continues to expand the forces o f production, it is a progressive society and the costs it in flicts must be met. H um an suffering cannot be surm ounted at any tim e one wishes. C onditions must be ready and developed before the sys­ tem in flic tin g the costs can be supplanted by a better one. T h e M arxist project is thus directed not sim ply against suffering but, more specifi­ cally, against suffering defined as histo rica lly unnecessary. T o take up arms too soon is the m ark o f the utopian or o f the p o litica l adventurer seeking a mere coup d ’etat. T a kin g up arms too late, how­ ever, is accommodation. One m ust therefore teach the proletariat to bear th e ir suffering, to endure it, as w ell as to fig h t those in flic tin g it when conditions are rig h t. M arxism thus has an undertow o f a C hristian, tragic elem ent w hich can sometimes ju s tify b ru ta lity and callousness to suf­ fe rin g by the very movement seeking proletarian em ancipation. One m ust learn to “ harden" oneself to suffering, to endure it, and indeed to use it as a lever o f social change. One must so “ harden" oneself to suf­ fe rin g as even to be capable o f in flic tin g it on behalf o f historical neces­ sity, expecting that “ history w ill absolve" us. T h is is not sim ply a “ lesson" fo r the w orkin g class; it has a special resonance fo r intellectuals as w ell. I t contains a lesson to them about w hat leadership entails, one th a t every battle commander must learn, nam ely, that he is required to in flic t losses not only upon the enemy b u t

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also on his own troops. M ore than that, intellectuals, and rom antic in te l­ lectuals especially, are told that they too m ust discipline themselves and control th e ir revulsion against the new society. T h e y must not b o lt from society, burrow ing in to bohemias, b u t understand that even a society personally repulsive to them is, fo r a period, under the protection o f historical necessity and must be borne. In h ib itin g rom antic revulsion as a fastidiousness unbecom ing the sewermen o f history, M arxism recon­ ciles intellectuals to the d u ra b ility o f capitalism . W h ile stressing the in ­ e v ita b ility o f its demise, M arxism does not claim this is im m inent. T hus the need to w ork out some personal accommodation to capitalism d u rin g its reign is sanctioned and, indeed, the enjoym ent o f bourgeois life styles is not ascetically forbidden. Engels rode to the hounds and sent the M arxes cases of champagne on holidays. As Goran T herbom says, M a rx­ ism is the product o f non-bohem ian intellectuals. W h a t mattered was not a vow o f poverty, b u t the w ill to struggle, and w hether or not conditions were rig h t fo r struggle. So fo r rom antic intellectuals—and, indeed, espe­ c ia lly fo r rom antics—the lesson is about discipline, w a itin g , preparing, m arshaling forces; enjoined to accept blows and suffering w h ile they are the anvil, they are given the compensatory promise th a t they w ill some­ day be history's hammer. T h is is a politics o f deferred gratification w hich is, o f course, more consistent w ith middle-class ideology than w ith th a t o f the proletariat. Young middle-class revolutionaries are, in effect, being told that not everything th e ir fathers had to teach them was useless. T o view M arxism as a cryptic doctrine o f recovery, then, gives us a rather d iffe re n t perspective on w hat it is (and is about) than the conven­ tional view that sees it as u n iq u e ly concerned w ith the im portance o f the economy, economic surplus, o f social classes, and o f class conflict. M a rx­ ism as a doctrine o f recovery is, among other things, a theory about the role o f knowledge in society and is thus interfaced w ith the doctrine o f the 'u n ity o f theory and practice." From the standpoint o f M arxism as recovery, its concern w ith the economic is no longer a reference to the eternal anatomy o f society or a social ontology; in this perspective, M arxism is o n ly m anifestly a state­ m ent that the economic determines in "the last instance," b u t is, rather, a m etaphor about fo rg e ttin g and the im portance o f forgetting. From this perspective, the emphasis on the economic is contingent, derived from its having been forgotten by some relevant g ro u f. T h e economic is em­ phasized not only because o f its inherent im portance b u t because its im portance was forgotten. I t says, in effect: in the analysis o f society m any things are im portant, b u t the ones we choose to elaborate on are those in danger o f being forgotten or those some key group has forgot-

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ten—these have a special im portance. M arxism is thus not only a theory about the underprivileged, b u t about underprivileged reality. W h y does anyone w ish to speak the unspoken? Because the hum an situation changes in a special way when knowledge about it varies. Knowledge recovered as e xp licit recognition differs from m erely tacit knowledge because it is now possible to reflect upon it more c ritic a lly and rationally. T he com m itm ent o f the doctrine o f recovery, then, is not to the economic as such b u t to the economic as hidden (th u s u n ­ exam ined) force and, indeed, to any social force that is hidden. T o that extent, M arxism is at least ta citly a theory about the role o f ra tio n a lity in society rather than sim ply one that accents the power o f the eco­ nom ic.

Recovery and the Syntagmatics o f Power and Good T h e H e g e lia n /M a rx is t conception o f the necessity o f evil is only a con­ crete instance o f a larger aspect o f th e ir ra tio n a lity dealing w ith certain basic rules o f syntagmatics, w hich is to say, w ith the kinds o f conjunc­ tions o f attributes prescribed or allowed. I f we hold w ith Charles Osgood that tw o o f the basic predicates o f all objects are, first, th e ir va lu e / goodness and, second, th e ir potency/strength, then one rule o f an u n i­ versal grammar prescribes certain conjunctions o f the tw o: that w hich is good is also supposed to be weak. T o repeat, this is a grammar o f m orality syntagmatics, prescribing these conjunctions as modes o f moral e q u ilib riu m . In effect, the syntagm atic rule stipulates tw o kinds o f social worlds or cu ltu ra l objects: ( i ) prescribed social worlds or objects, in w hich (a ) goodness and strength or ( b ) evil and weakness coincide, and ( 2 ) fo r­ bidden social w orlds/objects in w hich evil and power or goodness and weakness coincide. A n im portant part o f theology has long been con­ cerned to account fo r the existence o f forbidden worlds, attem pting to rationalize how it happens that the good fa il to get th e ir ju st rewards and th a t an im pu ted ly all-pow erful deity perm its evil in his w orld. T o understand the H e g e lia n /M a rx is t co n trib u tio n , a second consid­ eration needs to be added, nam ely, th a t there is a pow erful tendency for those in w hom this grammar o f syntagmatics has been internalized to deny, gloss over, rationalize away, repress, or m inim ize the im portance o f forbidden w orlds/objects. E ncountering w hat seems to be conjunc­ tions o f weakness and evil, or o f goodness and weakness, there is a pow­ e rfu l im pulse fo r persons to deny w hat they saw and, instead, to repress or to refract w hat they in fact saw in to som ething w hich they did not

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see, b u t w hich conform s w ith the grammar. T h is common im pulse to transform forbidden in to prescribed w orlds/objects is here called “ nor­ malization.^” T o “ norm alize” a forbidden w orld is to deny its abnorm ality, to repress its existence, or to subject it to a perceptual transform ation in w hich one o f the two dissonant terms in the conjunction is so changed as to reduce the dissonance; fo r example, an e v il/p o w e rfu l w o rld /o b je ct is perceptually transform ed in to one that is e vil/w e a k or good/pow erful. W e may now better understand the im plications o f the H e g e l/M a rx conception o f the necessity o f e vil. Above a ll, it is an effort to in h ib it the common norm alization o f forbidden w orlds/objects, and to resist the common grammar o f syntagmatics. T o that extent, it is a pow erful force toward realism. It says, in effect, that these forbidden worlds can and do happen, that we m ust be prepared fo r th e ir occurrence, rather than deny it when it happens. In this, there is an opening to positivism w hich is lodged in H egelianism and M arxism alike, both insisting that we must at times accept the w orld as it is. H egel, especially in his doctrine o f “ reconciliation,” stresses the ra tio n a lity o f “ w hat is,” arguing a cu n n in g o f history in w hich some evils are histo rica lly necessary, even if transient. M arx's view o f the necessity o f w a itin g fo r the m aturation o f objective economic conditions before overthrow ing the present, his emphasis that even capitalism w ith its evils can fo r a w h ile play a progressive role, is a b it more ambiguous. O n one side, this fosters a positivistic accommoda­ tion to w hat is; fo r in part, it may be read as norm alizing a forbidden w orld —i.e., arguing that an evil capitalism prepared the grounding fo r good socialism and is, therefore, not “ really” evil. In part, M arxism may also be read as condem ning any im pulse to norm alize capitalism as a sentim entalizing claptrap. W h ile n either Hegel nor M a rx absolutely re­ jects the conventional grammar, fo r in the fin a l culm inations both en­ visage goodness and power w ill again converge, both also produced a significant reinterpretation o f that grammar. By firm ly dem arcating the grammar w ith its stipulated proprieties from actual performances, they allow systematically fo r departures from propriety and they in h ib it nor­ m alizing impulses that w ould reduce actual performances to the expected proprieties. M arxism thereby enhanced the ra tio n a lity and realism o f so­ cial analysis. B ut to some degree it shared this achievement w ith posi­ tivism . Positivism , lik e M arxism , constituted an im portant epistemological ad­ vance. In its opposition to the p ro life ra tio n o f metaphysical invisibles, positivism placed its e lf in abrasive opposition to conventional and estab­ lished religion, and m uch o f its rational kernel s till resides in that. Even in its mistaken self-understanding as a presupposition less scholarship, positivism 's emphasis on the em pirical resolution o f p u b lic contention,

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makes any society’s self-understanding—its common sense and its elites’ definitions o f social re a lity—problem atic. There are now no social groups—n either priests, bourgeoisie, nor revo­ lutionaries—whose pronouncem ent about themselves need be taken as authoritative sim ply because they had been self-confidently asserted, or because o f the a u th o rity o f those asserting it. Opposing the most ancient traditionalism or the newest dogmatics, positivism ’s em piricism insisted that a person’s social position or p o litica l allegiance did not suffice to es­ tablish the tru th o f his declarations. T o that extent, positivism also ad­ hered to the culture o f critica l discourse, although it expected arguments to be resolved fin a lly by reference to some observables. Its sheer e m p iri­ cism, no less than its cu ltu re o f critica l discourse, however, necessarily created tension fo r all elite definitions o f social reality. These claims had now to be established 'e m p iric a lly ,” or else be challenged as unproved or meaningless. Positivism thus affirms that it accepts the re a lity b u t not the au th o rity o f the w orld or o f groups in it. It assumes that the social conditions it requires to pursue knowledge are secure and w ill continue to be provided to it. It argues that silence must be open to the re a lity o f the O ther; not to the O th e r’s self-understanding, b u t only to inferences that the knower him self makes on the basis o f his own observations. T h e O ther thus no longer expresses "tru th ” b u t now sim ply "gives evidence” w hich must be interpreted. T h e O ther then has been de-authorized as a source o f tru th and, indeed, has been made suspect as such. H e is allowed to retain a com pelling claim on our attention, not because o f his authority, b u t be­ cause o f his sheer existence. In this respect, early positivism too was a c ritic a l doctrine. Yet the prestige o f science was risin g everywhere, at least in the secular w orld; a ll m anner o f honors and m aterial support were being bestowed upon it by the p u b lic and by elites, p a rtly in the prem ature expectation o f its u tility , p a rtly in the hope that science could w in p o litica l consensus and resolve social differences, and p a rtly as a symbol o f the benign E n ­ lig htenm ent and universalism o f these elites. Indeed, the positivists ex­ pected the fu lle st support from les industrials. Its enemies were men o f the fa s t, not those to whom the fu tu re belonged and w ho were already increasingly pow erful in the present. T h e new positivism , then, did not see its e lf as proceeding against resistance, and as having to extricate knowledge o f the social w orld from its concealment and disguises. L iv in g in a transitional w orld, between an old regime fig h tin g a rear­ guard action and a new bourgeois order s till o n ly half-bom , the posi­ tivists’ reliance on the "e m p irica l” and rejection o f "blam e and praise” was possible because neither o f these contending social forces then had

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credit or power enough to impose its views. Indeed, the em pirical al­ lowed positivism to hold both at a distance, refusing to concede auto­ m atically to either group s d e fin itio n o f social reality. A t the same tim e, the celebration o f the em pirical fille d the vacuum produced by the m u­ tual discrediting o f O ld Regime and N ew Bourgeoisie. Positivism saw the new element in society, science (th e ir science and therefore them ­ selves), as lending virtu e to the secular powers and yie ld in g a new so­ cial e q u ilib riu m . M arxism saw the problem o f d ise q u ilib riu m d iffe re n tly, nam ely, that the power it required d id not yet exist, was s till o n ly stirrin g in the weak proletariat, and had to be brought in to being. T h e positivists, however, at first backed away from the new industrialists when ignored by them and, largely repressing th e ir critica l p roclivities toward the new order, w aited fo r the powers that be to change tack and give them support— w hich did, indeed, come to pass. M arxism s alliance w ith the weak had consequences as profound as positivism s accommodation to the strong. I t m eant that M arxists were not dependent on established power elites who, being stronger than they, could impose th e ir definitions o f social reality. I f M arxism s epistemology developed a tinge o f paranoia, at least it escaped positivism s Pollyanna prattle about soaring beyond praise and blame. M arxism could thus block the reduction o f performances to proprieties, could see power (ca p ita l­ ism ) as evil and the weak (p ro le ta ria t) as good; it in h ib ite d the distor­ tions o f norm alizing definitions o f social re a lity sponsored by the power­ fu l. Its crucial epistemological maneuver was that it had not allied its e lf w ith forces stronger than it was. Yet however m uch this strengthened its ra tio na lity, it d id not fo rtify its m oral sensibility.

T h e Anom ie o f M arxism M arxism s capacity to control its n orm alizing impulses involved the sim ul­ taneous in h ib itio n o f its m oral capacities and subjected it to an endem ic anom ie. T h is was closely connected w ith the way it in h ib ite d n o rm a li­ zation, i.e., by d ive rtin g the issue away from the goodness o f some social w orld or object and sub stitu tin g concern w ith its necessity. Necessity was an alternative to and in h ib ita n t o f m oral judgm ent, and was indeed presented as superior to m orality's sentim entalizing. M a rxism s disjuncture between economic infrastructure and ideological superstructure also im plied that the m oral consciousness was a mere epiphenom enon, deriva­ tive o f the power o f the infrastructure, and not to be taken seriously. T h e central strategy o f the M a rxist project, its concern w ith seeking a remedy to unnecessary suffering, was thus in the end susceptible to a

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misuse that betrayed its own highest avowals. T h e root o f the trouble was that this conception o f its own project redefined p ity. Sheer hum an suffering alone d id not q u a lify, in the M a rxist view , to ju s tify concern fo r others, or efforts on th e ir behalf, or to in v ite sympathy, or to feel solidarity w ith the afflicted. T h e hum an condition was rejected on be­ h a lf o f the historical condition. In short, M arxism , like any ideology, shunned the tragic. It shunned that suffering to w hich the flesh is u n i­ versal h e ir—indeed its historicism casts doubt that any such is universal— and attended to the suffering w hich men at certain times and places may, through struggle, avoid. T h e trouble here is not o n ly that this lim its the scope o f M arxism 's capacity fo r hum an solidarity and sym pathy. T h e trouble, rather, is that if the M a rxist project is the reduction o f needless suffering, one may not o n ly tu rn ones back on certain sufferings, h o ld in g them to be presently beyond correction, b u t then, going one step fu rth e r, one may now claim the highest m oral sanction fo r the in flic tio n o f new suffering under the ju stifica tio n o f necessity. T h e histo rica lly necessary becomes the sacred. M en acting in the name o f this higher necessity are acting on behalf o f som ething w hich can sanction almost any cruelty. C onvincing ourselves that we are acting o n ly as the agent o f necessity, we may then become the G rand In q u isito r and Sacred T o rtu re r o f H istory.

11 Holism: The Rationality of Marxism, II

I w ant to begin sum m ing up m y thoughts about M arxism , asking once again, how it came to be that M arxism had such a tremendous im pact upon the w orld and how it found such widespread acceptance w ith a speed know n by no other system o f thought. W h a t won it such accep­ tance? In asking this question we need to be m in d fu l o f the d iffe re n t ways it can be put. In one respect, to w h ich I am sym pathetic, our concern is not sim ply w ith all the reasons w hy M arxism has made its way so effec­ tive ly in the w orld, b u t especially w ith a certain, lim ite d kin d o f reason— w ith , one m igh t call them , the good reasons fo r M arxism 's acceptance. H ere, the question asked is both moral and factual. T h e premise is that, at least fo r a period, there were good reasons fo r M arxism 's being ac­ cepted, that the m illio n s believing in it were not to ta lly deluded, m is­ guided, or stupid, and that there were (o r are) aspects o f M arxism that, given the conditions in w h ich people found themselves, deserve to have been accepted. In other words, the question here is: w hat is the ratio­ n a lity o f M arxism ? T h is is very m uch the H egelian fra m ing o f the question w h ich , de­ spite its m anifest virtues, also has certain costs. M ost notably, there is the tem ptation to assume that, i f there are good reasons fo r accepting M arxism then, whatever acceptance it is given, is always fo r a ‘ good" reason and due to M arxism 's ra tio n a lity. Indeed, this is also M arxism 's own self-understanding. Yet we had better be careful not to totalize; not to assume that sim ply because there were some good reasons fo r accept262

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in g M arxism that a ll reasons fo r doing so were good or rational. In short, we m ust not assume, w ith H egel, that whatever is real is rational. Hegel's in c lin a tio n —at least, the Hegel o f “ re co ncilia tio n "—is to as­ sume that the reality or power o f things blends harm oniously w ith th e ir goodness ( = ra tio n a lity ). T h e trouble is that this assumption is often accepted sim ply because it is com forting. H id d e n in it is an apologetic im pulse to accommodate to w hat is, a certain “ positivism " w hich appears odd fo r so dialectical a philosophy because it im plies a readiness to nor­ m alize the w orld. It is not only promised that the good and the pow erful w ill live together ha p pily ever after in the Great Absolute but, even more com forting to secular m inds, they are also said to have cun n in g ways in w hich they already dw ell together in bliss. L ike the good m agi­ cian, the norm alizing theorist edifies his audience by his dexterity, ex­ h ib itin g the unexpected rationalities o f the w orld. In anthropology and sociology, this inte lle ctu a l legerdemain was called structural fu n ctio n a l­ ism or just plain functionalism . It had a certain vulgarian Leibnizianism in w h ich even our own jun g le is portrayed as a paradise, “ the best o f all possible w orlds." T h e tendency to reduce accounts o f the survival o f so­ cial phenomena to th e ir ra tio n a lity manifests the pathetic fallacy o f in ­ tellectuals whose everyday ideology affirms the power o f rig h t th in k in g — th a t very u n ity o f the good and pow erful that Hegel projected in to a systematic metaphysics o f the id e n tity o f the real and rational. W h ile such a standpoint is in m y view generally w rong, it does p a rticular vio­ lence to our subject, to M arxism and its “ m aterialism ." E quating the rational and the real is essentially the conceit o f philosophical idealism w hich , since Socrates, has assumed that the nucleus o f the good life somehow centered on the cognitive and the rational, and believed that evil was essentially a kin d o f ignorance. I f we cannot tolerate a standpoint that equates the real and the ra­ tional, neither can we pretend that the forces sustaining M arxism are o n ly the need and greed o f its users or th a t it has prevailed (w here it prevailed) sim ply because it was pow erful, as i f its a b ility to m obilize power had no connection at all w ith its own kind o f intelligence and ra tio n a lity. W e cannot set ourselves above and apart from M arxism in this way, pretending that we study it as we m ig h t a rock or a fish, that it has n o th in g to teach us, th a t it is m erely an object to be learned about rather than learned from . In short, w h ile we cannot allow a standpoint that equates the real and the rational, neither can we dehum anize our study and forget that we are studying men and women who are n o t only as real as b u t every b it as rational as we who study them. W e cannot understand th e ir w ork unless we see it as e x h ib itin g th e ir achievement o f ra tio n a lity as w e ll as certain specific lim its on th e ir ratio na lity.

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T h e Em ancipatory H orizon M arxism its e lf is, after a ll, not sim ply post-Hegelian b u t anti-H egelian— as w e ll as anti-idealistic and anti-rationalistic. W h ile M arxism ’s project aimed at enhancing ra tio n a lity, at e xtirp a tin g false consciousness, at de­ m ystifyin g the w orld, s till its aim was not ra tio n a lity as such; it included b u t w ent beyond ra tio na lity. A n y fa ilu re to understand this is to make the egregious error o f confusing M a rx w ith Jurgen Habermas and o f re­ ducing M arxism to a philosopher’s project. Rather than aim ing at ratio­ n a lity as such, M arxism had a broader horizon—em ancipation. M arxism ’s object was to transform the everyday life by subjecting it to a c ritic a lly appropriated grammar o f ra tio n a lity brought to focus on a p o litica l project. T h is project aimed at w orld reconstruction through p o litica l struggle fo r w hich rational diagnosis, rational persuasion, and critiq u e were subsidiary, were necessary b u t not sufficient, were a part b u t not the whole. M a rx believed that “ social being” w hich in its socio­ logical version meant ( in his w ords) “ sensuous hum an a c tiv ity ” deter­ m ined social consciousness and w ith this, ra tio n a lity; m aking ra tio n a lity h istorically possible under some b u t not a ll social conditions; strengthen­ in g or d e b ilita tin g it under d iffe re n t social arrangements. M a rx never focuses, therefore, on the general and universal social con­ ditions necessary fo r ra tio n a lity; fo r him ra tio n a lity was an historical achievement w hich could have diverse forms. M oreover, his aim was to produce revolutionary in s titu tio n a l changes w hich w ould somehow foster a hum an em ancipation that w ould by its e lf dissipate a ll false conscious­ ness and de-m ystify society—in short, heighten ra tio n a lity. T h e issue here is not w hether M a rx was mistaken (as I believe he was) in adopting such a mechanical view o f the prospects o f ra tio n a lity but, rather, to see that his project subordinates ra tio n a lity to a larger vision o f “ emancipa­ tio n .” M a rx never doubted that ra tio n a lity was only part o f “ emancipa­ tio n ” and only part o f the struggle through w hich he expected to b rin g it about. T h u s in the oft-cited passage in T h e Germ an Ideology, M a rx and Engels note that “ in com m unist society . . . it is possible fo r me to do one th in g to-day and another tom orrow, to h u n t in the m orning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticize after d inner, w ith ­ out ever becoming hunter, fisherm an, shepherd, or c ritic .” 1 M a rx ’s vision o f the good man was not, therefore, someone w ith a huge b u lg in g brain from w hich there dangled a m atchstick body and spindly lim bs; nor was his a vision o f man as the coolly self-possessed strategist. M a rx also adm ired strength and passion in men (as his daugh­ ter Laura tells us) and the w ill to struggle courageously. In this, M a rx resonated w ith the classical Greek search for “ roundedness” and w ith the

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rom antic strivin g fo r em ancipation o f the body. M a rx sought a u n ity o f theory and practice, not the dom inance o f theory over practice. T h is fu r­ ther im plies that insofar as M arxism is com m itted to ra tio na lity, it is com m itted not only to pure reason—not only to reason fo r its own sake— but, rather, to practical reason w hich is not sim ply consciousness-raising but, more broadly, life-supporting. M arxism , then, is not a philosopher's bony rationalism ; it rejects con­ tem plation dissociated from sensuousness, thought separated from action, the theoretical attitude isolated from practical reason, philosophy sepa­ rated from life . M a rx him self made this plain when he summarized his disagreements w ith Feuerbach in w hat have been dubbed his “ Theses on Feuerbach." T h e ch ie f defect o f previous forms o f m aterialism , says the first thesis, is that they conceive o f re a lity o n ly in the “ form o f the object or o f contem plation." Feuerbach, he holds, m istakenly “ regards the theoretical attitude as the o n ly genuinely hum an attitude, w h ile prac­ tice is conceived and fixed o n ly in its dirty-ju d a ica l m anifestation. Hence he does not grasp the significance o f revolutionary, or o f practical-critical, a c tiv ity ." T h e second thesis argues that men “ prove the tru th . . . in practice." T h e th ird m aintains that not o n ly are men changed by circum ­ stances but that they also change themselves, and that the two, w orldchanging and self-changing, can only be understood and produced by “ revolutionary practice." T h e fo u rth thesis observes that the religious w orld grows out o f the secular w hich must “ in its e lf be understood in its contradictions and revolutionized in practice." T h is evocation o f man as sensuous and active, rather than sim ply as intellective, culm inates, o f course, in the fin a l and fa m ilia r eleventh thesis: “ T h e philosophers have o n ly interpreted the w orld in various ways; the p o in t is to change it." 2 M arx's is not a condem nation o f interpretation (o r o f the theoretical a ttitu d e ) as such, b u t o n ly o f its perverse transform ation in to an end in itself, in to a passive contem plation o f the w orld that leaves everything as it was found. N o r does M a rx pursue a critiq u e o f interpretation because he aims to substitute fo r it a joy in sensuousness and a d e lig h t in the sheer appearances o f things. T here is small doubt that M a rx shared the fa m ilia r “ m asculine" conception that conceives o f interpretation as a piercing o f the surface and a getting to the bottom o f things. H e is not w orried that interpretation is an act o f aggression on the w orld, the in ­ tellectual's way o f reconstructing reality. Rather, M a rx is w orried that a p u rsuit o f interpretation alone feeds the intellectual's specific arrogance: presenting his lim ite d talent as the w orld's supreme salvation, and exalt­ in g m ind and ra tio n a lity as panaceas fo r a ll the w orld's ills . M arx's critiqu e here is kin to his central objection to idealism ; his in ­ sistence that “ consciousness" cannot be understood in isolation; his con-

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viction that ra tio n a lity is part o f a larger array o f hum an talents no one o f w hich can be understood in isolation from the others, and that reason is partner in , not master over, the hum an enterprise. M ost basically, M a rx ’s views o f consciousness, ra tio n a lity, and interpretation are a c ri­ tique o f any tendency to substitute part fo r w hole; they are an affirm a­ tion o f the whole, o f “ social being,” o f sensuous praxis. M a rx ’s project o f em ancipation, then, is at bottom a critiq u e o f and drive to overcome fragm entation. T h e most fundam ental character o f his project is to make the w orld whole, to connect the disconnected, to integrate the isolated, to remember the forgotten and the repressed, and to overcome old con­ tradictions. T h e deep structure o f M a rx ’s project moves toward a vision o f a new hum an u n ity overcom ing the divisiveness o f com petitive, pos­ sessive individualism , o f a c iv il society where the common interest is no one’s business. A t this level M a rx ’s macroscopic sociology and his episte­ m ology share a common structure, the sociology seeking to reconstruct the class-riven society in to a solidary hum an com m unity, and the episte­ m ology aim ing at the reconstruction o f discourse, in w hich m eaning is established by the jo in in g o f h ith e rto disconnected fragments, by a re­ contextualizing analysis, by pursuing the understanding o f “ superstruc­ ture” in the lig h t o f the un d erlying infrastructure o f the forces and rela­ tions o f production. I t is thus a move toward both a new w orld and a new ratio na lity. M a rx directs him self, then, toward a critiq u e o f m an’s alienation from the w orld and from him self; o f the cleavages w rought by the division o f labor, o f the separation o f m anual from inte lle ctu a l labor, and o f town from country; he directs him self to the need to overcome the separation between philosophy and the everyday life , or the gap between theory and praxis. H e seeks to overcome tra d ition a l religion as an obsolescent and m ystified wholeness, and the modem sciences as a new specious w hole­ ness, when they do not sim ply augment fragm entation. M arxism ’s epistemology, its sociology, and its politics thus a ll share a common deep structure, reunification o f a fragm ented w orld; and it is at this level that M arxism achieves its fu lle st ra tio n a lity. Yet, as M a rx m ig h t w ell have expected, this re u n ify in g ra tio n a lity is not w ith o u t its own new contradictions. In one, M arxism ’s re u n ify in g drive smashes up on the pow erful m onopoly o f economic and p o litica l powers that it u n iq u e ly bestows upon the state. As a result, such reunification as it achieves is regressive and external, devoid o f the inner adhesiveness o f the free com­ m u n ity M a rx had sought. M arxism ’s re u n ify in g drive was also directed against post-Enlightenm ent cu ltu ra l fragm entation—spurred p a rtly by the decline o f religion and the church and by the rise o f fragm enting inte lle ctu a l specializations—b u t this, too, was distorted by M arxism ’s

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transform ation in to an official state doctrine w hich d id not hesitate to impose u n ity through bureaucratic censorship.

R e u n ify in g the W o rld : P o sitivism + R om a n ticism T h e eighteenth century's ra p id ly expanding commercial and ind ustrial order and the burgeoning w orld m arket to w hich it was linked were other sources o f fragm entation whose effects ram ified in every direction, u n d erm in in g all older social structures: threatening the pre-bourgeois elites and the old p o litica l in stitu tio n s they had fashioned, threatening the old fa m ily system by separating its members d u rin g the day and for even longer periods as they le ft to fin d w ork in the city. W ith the spread o f enlightenm ent criticism and o f science in the eighteenth and nine­ teenth centuries, and w ith the church's insistence on a llying itse lf w ith the losing aristocracy, even the once u n ify in g clerical authority waned. T h e rise o f markets in landed property threatened the economic position o f the old elites as w ell as th e ir fa m ily in te g rity; the decline o f the guilds threatened the artisans and th e ir fam ilies w ith a loss o f security and privilege; indeed, it had been they, far more than the new ind u stria l fac­ tory workers, who most m ilita n tly supported the revolutions o f 1848. A n d both the artisan and old elites were threatened by the rise o f the m iddle class as w ell as o f the factory system and its workers. T h is historical ju n ctio n saw vast social damage and grow ing conflict as the cities exploded w ith new rural m igrants, often unattached men u n fa m ilia r and unhappy w ith c ity life . As the movement to emancipate the serfs grew, tensions also spread in to the countryside, and disorders and jacqueries became more frequent. From all directions a profound sense o f widespread change emerged, a sense o f the decline o f the old order, o f the rise o f a new one whose character s till remained unclear and undeveloped, a sense that the two were in opposition and that the new era was one o f transition and social conflict. T h e sense o f the social 'o rd e r" as a predictable, fa m ilia r, and manageable system waned. T he mappings o f the old social order no longer enabled persons to move around the em erging society effectively and to understand it. One massive, widespread reaction was a surge o f new, comprehensive m ap-m aking efforts at d iffe re n t levels and in d iffe re n t quarters o f society. On the state level, there was an intensive developm ent o f “ constitution"m aking w hich was, in effect, an e ffo rt at the comprehensive legal specifi­ cation o f new structures fo r the new society, an e ffo rt to bind it up and organize it in m in u te ly legislated detail. From another direction, w hich was an im po rta n t source o f M arxism itself, there emerged "utopian so-

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cialism ” —the socialism o f Fourier, the Saint-Sim onians, and o f Cabet— w hich presented its own image o f a counter social order often in equally m inute and even more comprehensive detail. U topian socialism s com­ prehensiveness was the em erging le ft s m ap-m aking counterpart to con­ stitutionalism , w h ile the latte r was the m ap-m aking utopianism o f the respectable m iddle classes. U topianism was also, we m igh t say, the fu ­ ture-oriented counterpart to the backward-looking historical novel o f the rom antics. In both cases, social worlds were being designed and mapped in im aginative detail, were offered as new social “ wholes” alternative to the fragm entation o f the present. T w o o f the great social movements that responded to the intensified fragm entation were p a rticu la rly im portant fo r M arxism . One was the grow th o f French positivism around Saint-Sim on and the Saint-Sim onians, w hich thus overlapped w ith utopian socialism, and the other was the grow th o f rom anticism as a European-wide developm ent. M arxism itse lf, is, in substantial part, to be understood as an e ffo rt at the fusion o f these two great social movements, both o f w h ich were efforts to revitalize European culture, to reorganize it, to express the new fragm entation, and to help overcome it. T h e Saint-Sim onians, fo r th e ir part, had an articulate sense that it was th e ir task to contribute to the com pletion and m aturation o f the new so­ ciety around them. Above a ll, they conceived th e ir task as one o f 'orga­ n iz in g ” the new society, o f b rin g in g its dismembered parts together. One way they expressed this, and sought to do som ething about it, was in th e ir developm ent o f new systems o f transportation, railroads, postal sys­ tems, credit and banking systems, and, in a way oddly, th e ir unique in ­ terest in the b u ild in g o f canals. Indeed, when Saint-Sim on was w ith Lafayette d u rin g the Am erican revolution, he conceived the project o f b u ild in g w hat, in effect, later became the Panama Canal; subsequently, it was the vision and preparation o f the Saint-Sim onians that laid the groundw ork fo r de Lesseps s later developm ent o f the Suez Canal. T h e Saint-Sim onians saw society as almost physically dismembered, and as needing to be re kn it. T h e y believed that the new society w ould be held together by a new theology and religion that w ould have to be consistent w ith the new science and so invented a new “ religion o f h u ­ m a n ity.” A t the same tim e, seeking to extend the principles o f science to the study o f man—so that knowledge w ould then have one rather than m u ltip le systems o f principles—they also invented the positive “ science o f society.” H a vin g earlier been one o f Saint-Sim on’s prom ising young men and secretaries, Auguste Com te fashioned a new “ sociology” that was sim ply one variant o f Saint-Sim onism . T h e p o in t o f the new social science was not sim ply pure knowledge

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about men b u t the practical reconstruction o f a u n ifie d society; indeed, this was also the understanding that Pecquer and Leroux had o f the new social science. T h e central p o in t o f Saint-Sim on’s new ‘ positivism ” was that it w ould provide a science o f politics. H e believed that the advent o f a tru ly scientific study o f man meant that social and p o litica l questions could now be resolved a uthoritatively. A p p lie d to hum an affairs, social science could produce “ positive” (c e rta in ) conclusions to w hich all w ould consent, thus u n ify in g the fragm ented, anarchic society w ith in a new social consensus. T h e new science and technology, moreover, were also expected to heighten p ro d u ctivity, thus p ro vid in g greater economic w elfare fo r the w orkin g class and thereby w in n in g th e ir loyalty fo r the new society. F in a lly, science was to provide the basis fo r a new system o f adm inistration, enabling decisions to be made and enacted w ith o u t force and violence, m erely by w in n in g the voluntary consent o f sub­ ordinates. In these three ways, then, positivism expected science to over­ come social fragm entation. Sociological positivism was related to the breakdown o f traditional m appings in one unique way, in its sense o f the irrelevance o f all past dom inant mappings and in its search fo r the new m ethod o f m apping and d e fin in g social reality. H ostile to lawyers and metaphysicians, it sought fo r new elites that could a u th o rita tive ly re-establish social order on modern bases. For positivism , the new authorities were to be scien­ tists, technologists, and industriels; its new m ethod, o f course, was to be science. M u ch the same m apping problem was then also being confronted by the romantics who, however, did not define the task as a cognitive, scien­ tific , or even rational one b u t often viewed it as re q u irin g a feat o f im agi­ nation, sp irit, and fa ith . As I have discussed elsewhere,3 however, it w ould be to ta lly mistaken to th in k o f French positivism and o f rom anti­ cism as tw o e n tire ly separate responses; indeed, French positivism was at first undoubtedly a blend o f science and rom anticism . T h e German version o f rom anticism , however, developed along special lines because it was a response not o n ly to problems and developments in its own society but, in addition, was affected by the earlier responses that the French had made to sim ilar problems. T h e Germans’ negative judgm ent o f the latter was due p a rtly to the N apoleonic presence and French cu ltu ra l hegemony in the Germanies. T h e romantics expressed th e ir sense o f modem fragm entation and d isu n ity in part through th e ir call to an intense “ organic” society, and in part, through th e ir notion o f the “ grotesque” w h ich they saw as the incongruous and ominous conjunction o f cu ltu ra l incom patibles. T h e strange w orld o f the gro­ tesque was also viewed in a special way; it was looked on as one looked

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at events in a dream, as a passive onlooker w ho fe lt alienated from w hat he saw. Romantics also expressed th e ir sense o f liv in g in a tw ilig h t w orld o f transition, between an unsatisfactory past and as yet unw orkable fu tu re , by developing an aesthetic that saw objects as blending in to one another rather than as w e ll demarcated by hard-edged boundaries. T h e y fe lt that to seek tru th by the careful dissections o f analytic reason was an alien (F re n c h ) perversion that could o n ly produce a vivisection that de­ stroyed liv in g reality. T h e separation o f objects was overcome by b lu r­ rin g ; am biguity became transvalued. Faced w ith a changing social re a lity in w h ich social structure and the tra d ition a l ways o f understanding it were both dissolving, the rom antics sought to rescue m eaning by “ roman­ ticizin g .” T h a t is, by endow ing the ordinary, everyday w orld w ith the pathos o f the extraordinary—by idealizing m undane reality. As N ovalis said, to rom anticize was to see the in fin ite in the fin ite , the universe in a grain o f sand. T h e rom antics’ characteristic concern w ith the sym bolic was thus another way in w hich they sought to overcome the s p lit in the w orld, lin k in g im m ediate appearances w ith u n d e rlyin g essence, observa­ tion w ith im agination. M oreover, m any rom antics—as fo r example, the young Goethe—sought to discipline themselves in to a wholeness that joined reason w ith sen­ suality, w ill, and feeling. (T h e young Goethe said, “ Feeling is a ll.” ) Others, however, rather than seeing fe e lin g and reason as complemen­ tary, held they were incom patibles. For m any rom antics, love—“ rom antic love” —assumed im portance as a way o f overcom ing hum an isolation and distance; they stressed mood and feeling because, in mood, one feels w hole and overcomes in n e r conflict, w h ile w ith intense feeling, inte rna l ambivalences are overcome. Love, said C oleridge, can make the self whole. In a sim ilar vein, the rom antics began the redem ption o f the flesh and the m odernization o f sexuality, d e fin in g the true social u n it as b i­ sexual com bination o f men and wom en. T h e “ liberation o f w om en” be­ gins here in rom anticism . T hus, in W estern Europe, rom anticism and positivism overlapped, be­ cause they both were responding to the same sense o f the early n in e ­ teenth century’s fragm entation. M arxism shared w ith them this sense o f fragm entation and the e ffo rt to overcome it. So, when the young M a rx remarks that “ philosophy is the head o f em ancipation, and the prole­ tariat is the heart,” he is p o litic iz in g the G oethian e ffort to reunite reason and feeling. C ertainly, fo r M a rx, reason alone could achieve no w o rld ly p o litica l reconstruction—and that, he said, was the whole p o in t, not ju st another interpretation o f the w orld. For M arx, p o litica l reconstruction was not sim ply a laboratory experim ent b u t required a com m itm ent o f the w hole person, o f the passions no less than o f the intelligence. M a rx ’s

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abiding aim to transcend "a lien a tio n ” is a characteristically rom antic ef­ fo rt to mend the sp lit between and w ith in men, re u n itin g rational man w ith active, sensuous man. I t was in the horizontal division o f labor in w h ich workers became alienated from th e ir own faculties, and it was the vertical division o f labor w hich reproduced the property system in w hich men lost control over the products o f th e ir own labor. W a n tin g a society in w h ich a ll hum an faculties could fin d a home, M a rx thus rejected the Socratic ru le —one man, one task—and looked to a tim e in w hich men could play several roles in the course o f a single day, u n itin g m anual and inte lle ctu a l, aesthetic and cognitive activities.

M arxism Against Fragm entation T h e p o in t here, to reiterate it em phatically, is not that "M a rx was a rom antic” but, rather, that like the romantics (and the positivists) m uch (n o , not alO o f the deeper problem atic o f his w ork was that o f fragm en­ tation. Yet how can this view be reconciled w ith the m anifest im por­ tance that M a rx a ttributed to class differences and w ith his com m itm ent to the class struggle and the proletariat? M a rx chose the w orking class as his "historical agent” precisely because he believed that its position o f total deprivation and increasing misery made it a "universal class” whose suffering w ould lead it u ltim a te ly to reject not only its own wage slavery b u t the entire system o f exploited and e xp lo itin g classes. I t cannot achieve its own em ancipation, M a rx thought, at the cost o f fastening the yoke o f repression upon another class and does not seek, as other classes had, sim ply to produce a new system o f exploitation. I t represents the interests o f the m a jo rity in the beginning and, u ltim a te ly o f a ll: " A ll previous his­ torical movements were movements o f m inorities, or in the interest o f m ino ritie s,” notes the C om m unist M anifesto, b u t "th e proletariat move­ m ent is the self-conscious, independent m ovement o f the immense ma­ jo rity , in the interest o f the immense m a jo rity.” 4 A fte r the proletariat is raised to the position o f the ru lin g class, says the M anifesto, then "in place o f the old bourgeois society, w ith its classes and class antagonisms, we shall have an association, in w hich the free developm ent o f each is the condition fo r the free developm ent o f a ll.” 5 In short, fragm entation can then give way to com m unity. Rather than rejecting anti-fragm enta­ tion, class struggle was M a rx ’s way o f healing class antagonisms—an in ­ congruity scarcely intolerable to the rom antic tra d itio n ’s fascination w ith the grotesque and to the H egelian com m itted to the "u n ity o f opposites.” In this, as in so m any other ways, there was an im portant c o n tin u ity between M a rx and H egel. T h e notion o f a "universal class,” as an agency to u n ify and represent the interests o f society as a whole, was largely

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derived by M a rx from Hegel. Hegel's own starting p o in t had been a German classicism in w h ich the modem w orld was ta c itly or e x p lic itly contrasted w ith the supposed u n ity o f the ancient Greek city-state, where m ens personal existence was in tim a te ly bound up w ith the fo ils . In a sim ilar vein, M a rx sees private property as instigating an egoism and ind ividu a lism in im ica l to social solidarity: “ M a rx comes to the con­ clusion in the C ritiq u e that private property is essential to the achieve­ m ent o f the socio-political ideal o f the Gemeinwesen. . . . G enuine h u ­ man em ancipation . . . is achieved o n ly w ith the e lim in atio n o f such co n flict and d u a lity. . . .” 6 Concerned w ith the atom ization w rought by private property in c iv il society, Hegel had earlier sought to re u n ify society and had believed that this was p rim a rily to be done through the Estates General and state bureaucracy. W h ile rejecting H egels solution, M a rx accepts the general fram ew ork o f the problem , in w hich the task o f modem reconstruction is form ulated in a very special w ay—as the overcom ing o f divisions, dis­ u n ity , fragm entation. H ere, to reconstruct is to make the sp lit w orld whole again. T h e task, here, is thus not to fin d a solution to this or that partial “ social problem ” in d iffe re n t spheres o f life b u t to overcome the sheer disconnectedness o f the several spheres. So M a rx accepts the basic contours o f H egels problem , that some kin d o f p u llin g together o f society, some kin d o f “ organizing” o f it —in the positivists' words—was necessary. T h e y d iffe r, o f course, in the agency o f this u n ifica tio n , M a rx su b stituting the proletariat fo r H egels bureau­ cracy. “ M a rx took seriously H egels notion o f a universal class, that is, a class w ith in society whose interests are identical w ith the interests o f so­ ciety as a w hole, and therefore o f man him self as a n a tu ra lly social, species-being.” 7 As d istin ct from its power as an historical agent, n o th in g makes the proletariat a legitim ate agent except its supposed universality; it is this w hich legitim ates the proletariat's mission in terms o f the classi­ cal requirem ent that a u th o rity in the state be nonpartisan and “ serve the people.” M a rx thus selects the proletariat as historical agent as m uch fo r its legitim acy as fo r its efficacy. B u t the essential p o in t, fo r all its “ false consciousness,” is that the proletariat is conceived by M a rx as the agent o f history and o f the general interest; the interests o f the w hole are con­ ceived as vested in part; this part undertakes a struggle not fo r its e lf alone, b u t fo r the reunification o f the w hole; and it seeks hum an peace through class struggle. M arx's com m itm ent to the proletariat and class struggle thus does not contradict b u t exhibits the essential anti-fragm entin g drive o f his theory. C entral, i f sublim inal, to M arx's w ork there is also an e ffo rt to u n ite

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the value perspectives o f the classical w orld, its intense com m itm ent to the im portance o f “ contest” and agonic struggle,8 w ith the modem w orld's accent on the redem ptive power o f w ork, the gospel o f labor. H ere, too, M a rx is try in g to make the w orld one. M u ch the same may be said o f Hegel's earlier analysis o f the master-bondsman dialectic w hich is also an e ffort to integrate new and old, modem and classical, w ork and strug­ gle. In this, Hegel exhibits the dialectic between heroism and routine disciplined w ork. A lth o u g h Hegel extols labors transform ative power, he does so only by treating it as a kin d o f sublim ated struggle w hich aims to “ a n n ih ila te " or dom inate nature. Labor is ta citly treated as a mode o f dom ination on the model o f the heroic struggle. In Hegel's master-bonds­ man dialectic, there is an echo o f the classical Greek notion that it is better to die than live as a slave, yet death is also feared as one o f the most terrible disasters. T here is an ambivalence between fear o f death and hatred o f submission. In Hegel's dialectic, however, a C hristian and bourgeois note has been added: the bottom ra il becomes the top through w ork. T h e conquered w ho was forced in to slavery redeems him self through the discipline o f his labor and becomes superior to his conqueror and master. Iro n ic rom antic reversal thus parallels C hristian parable. Hegel's master-bondsman dialectic attempts to harm onize Greek classi­ cism and its accent on struggle w ith C hristian meekness, bourgeois w ork, and rom antic irony. T h is am bitious syncretism is at the heart o f his master-slave dialectic. A sim ilar (b u t not id e n tic a l) fusion is central to M arx. It is interest­ ing, however, that, w hen asked to summarize his philosophy in one word, M a rx chose “ struggle" rather than “ w o rk." W h e n he concludes the M a n i­ festo w ith the rin g in g call to a struggle in w hich “ the proletarians have n o th in g to lose but th e ir chains," he is echoing the agonic ethic o f classi­ cism, n o t sim ply in its stress on struggle but, also, in its “ heroism ," ap­ parently deem ing it u n w o rth y o f m ention that proletarians may, indeed, lose th e ir very lives in this struggle, especially since in the same breath he has already declared that th e ir goals “ can be attained only by the forcible overthrow o f a ll existing conditions."9 T h is is the heroic ethic o f a classicism that assumed that men w ould w illin g ly risk death rather than live as slaves. M arx's fusion o f struggle and labor offers a p o litica l sphere in w hich heroic struggle compensates fo r degrading labor in the economy. A t the same tim e, revolutionary struggle in the p o litica l sphere is to be infused w ith the discipline learned in the in d u stria l system, i.e., it is to become m ethodical and organized, a kin d o f p o litica l w ork, w h ile (as fo r H e g e l) labor becomes a struggle against nature, a mode o f dom ination.

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H olism and Epistem ology M a rx s epistemology—his assumptions o f how to proceed toward and en­ sure knowledge—is also grounded in his opposition to fragm entation as in im ica l to tru th ; as H egel had said, “ the tru th is the w h o le ."10 Sys­ tem atic concern w ith holistic analysis was thus, in large part, derived by M a rx from H egel. H egel had viewed entire societies as integrated by an enveloping “ s p irit o f the age" or o f the people—a s p irit w hich was seen to pervade all its in stitu tio n s and infuse a ll its parts. T h is s p irit o f the age was the historical expression at the national level o f the u n fo ld ­ in g w orld Geist. For H egel, then, the w hole is constituted as a w hole (th a t is, integrated) by the common sp irit pervading its several parts. T w o other features characterize the H egelian w hole: O ne is that it is not, at any given m om ent, a finished and perfected e n tity, b u t is con­ tinuously evolving in a progressive m anner, such that its later state has assimilated the rational part o f the previous state and has reorganized it in to some larger, more comprehensive e n tity. Second, the m ovement o f this w hole proceeds by the u n fo ld in g o f its own inte rna l contradictions and o f efforts to compose and transcend these contradictions. T h e H egel­ ian w hole is neither complete nor harm onious, although it is integrated by diffu sio n o f the Zeitgeist or Volks geist. T h e whole here is thus integrated at the cultural level, by reason o f common ideas and understandings distributed among the parts. T h e parts o f the H egelian w hole then are united “ in w a rd ly " by th e ir participation in a common sp iritu a l substance and not m erely outw ardly, by the d iffe r­ ent functions they perform fo r one another. For H egel, to know the whole, one m ust know the s p irit pervading the parts. T h e parts are the w ork o f the sp irit; they are its epiphenomena, u n ifo rm ly shaped, as it were* by the anterior code or logic o f the sp irit. T h e fu lle st seculariza­ tion o f this form ulation is the anthropological concept o f culture as a “ super-organic" dom ain o f shared understandings w hich is n o t im prin te d by men's bio-genetic nature, and w hich is transm itted by learning from generation to generation, or from one te rrito ry to another. T h e H egelian “ s p irit o f the age" as it pervades and unifies a total so­ ciety is thus an esoteric cu ltu ra l determ inism . As a determ inism , the H egelian w hole retains an hierarchical metaphysic, the low er parts being im putedly determ ined by the higher cu ltu ra l or sp iritu a l code. T h e in ­ tegration existing among the elements, then, is not the solidarity o f peers based on th e ir m utual aid and need, b u t a “ L u th e ra n " hierarchical in ­ tegration e n ta ilin g dom ination and subordination. T h e vision o f the “ fa­ th e r" set over his sons lurks here. M a rxist theory is based on the assumption that the w orld o f conscious-

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ness and that o f the “ social being” o f the infrastructure are not two sepa­ rate realms, but, rather, tw o d iffe re n t sides o f a single to tality. T h is is its “ m aterialism .” I f fo r H egel the w hole is held together by the common s p irit in fu sin g its several parts, M a rx s m aterialist counterpart has a sim i­ lar inte g ra tin g role. I f Hegel moves against fragm entation by a m onistic integration w rought by the Geist, M a rx moves toward a m onistic ma­ terialism to accomplish the same task. E ith e r monism is a unity-produc­ in g m achine. I f for Hegel the sp lit w orld is made one by being made o f Geist, M a rx (as he him self tells us) m erely turned this all upside down, assim ilating ideal and consciousness in to the m aterial. As the C om m unist M anifesto says in direct address to the bourgeoisie: “ Your very ideas are b u t the outgrow th o f your bourgeois production and bourgeois property, ju st as your jurisprudence is but the w ill o f your class made in to a law fo r all, a w ill whose essential character and direction are determ ined by the economic conditions o f existence o f your class.” 11 T h e p o in t o f such a m aterialism , however, is not only the id e n tifica ­ tion o f a co n tro llin g substance fundam entally d iffe re n t from w hat it con­ trols but, rather, the assertion o f the u n ity o f the w orld in that (m ate­ ria l) substance. T h e p o in t o f this m aterialism , then, is not tangible m atter b u t intangible u n ity . It is, paradoxically, a very “ sp iritu a l” m ateri­ alism. L ike Hegel, it assumes that there can be u n ity only when things have the same or a common substance perm eating the whole. Such a u n ity premises one substance, w hether that substance is a S p irit, or “ ma­ te ria l” ; both contrast w ith the kin d o f u n ity -involved in the notion o f “ system” w hich premises a division o f labor, the togetherness o f essen­ tia lly diverse b u t equally real substances. In M arxism , the “ w hole” is the tacit, tm theorized, structural im plica tion o f the m aterialist analytic. It is tacit and untheorized because M arx's focus is on only part o f the larger context, specifically the econom ic-production-technological-property-power elements: i.e., the “ in fra stru ctu re .” B u t these are, indeed, unm istakably part o f a larger societal to ta lity, an encompassing socio­ economic system, a “ capitalist system.” M a rx moves toward the societal to ta lity by way o f its governing “ eco­ nom ic” infrastructure, w hich is always understood as part o f a larger so­ cietal w hole. M arx's conception o f production as an infrastructure im plies that it is a part w hich in tu rn premises a context-establishing whole. T h is, however, is obscured by the focus on the infrastructure as a deter­ m in in g part. M arx's move to the to ta lity bogged down w h ile passing through the te rrito ry o f the socioeconomic. T h e ideological superstruc­ ture was seen as determ ined by the socioeconomic “ in the last instance,” so that th e ir jo in t constitution o f an encompassing whole remains largely tacit. M a rx ’s own holism is thus less em phatic than his specification of

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the in fra stru ctu ra l part that governs the w hole, “ in the fin a l instance.” I t is the socioeconomic part that is situated in his peripheral, a u xilia ry awareness. T h e form er was his problem atic; the la tte r was a “ given” to him , his H egelian inheritance. M a rx ’s analytic strategy fo r integrating the w hole is, I have suggested, sim ilar to H egel’s. L ike H egel, he focuses on a single sphere or substance w hich imposes a m onistic integration on a societal w hole seen as evolv­ in g via its in te rn a l contradictions. Since the w hole retains a hierarchical integration, M a rx retains the topography o f H egel’s structure even as he “ inverts” h im , “ standing h im on his feet.” H egel’s Geist is now trans­ form ed in to the “ m aterial” forces and relations o f production that govern the whole. A t the level o f his most general dom ain assumptions—as dis­ tin c t from his topic-focused, concrete historical studies—M a rx thus re­ mains w ith in the deep structure o f the H egelian analysis o f the w hole; like H egel’s, M a rk ’s w hole entails a hierarchical, two-tiered to ta lity : a m anifest (su p e r) structure o f appearances governed by a deep or latent ( in fr a ) structure. T h e la tte r becomes the analyst’s cognitive problem atic, the hidden, silent elem ent to be revealed, “ recovered,” and spoken in each new concrete case. For M a rx, to analyze means: reveal and recover the historically special and contradictory character o f the infrastructure in each case, and its d istin ctive interplay w ith other forces, w h ich together are conceived to be a to ta lity. M arxism is thus open to tw o d iffe re n t strategies o f theoretical develop­ m ent: One: In polem icizing against idealism ’s assertion o f the autonom y o f ideas, it sometimes re-contextualizes these sim ply by counter-asserting against them the im portance o f another “ factor,” the socioeconomic, thus lim itin g re-contextualization to the assertion o f a com peting, “ h id ­ den” factor. H ere M arxism remains w ith in a tacit single-factor m odel, where each model affirm s its own d iffe re n t (b u t s till single) factor. T w o: In another outcome, however, M arxism ’s re-contextualizing critiq u e o f idealism only negates the affirm ations o f idealism , sim ply saying, no, ideals are not autonomous. I t does not counterpose to these the socio­ economic treated as ju st another single factor; w h ile n o tin g the im por­ tance o f the socioeconomic, it stresses the re-contextualizing logic, and focuses on some larger w hole in w h ich outcomes are patterned d iffe r­ e n tly fo r all the to ta lity ’s constituents, w hether ideas or socioeconomic sub-systems. T h e first M a rxist strategy reproduces a factor m odel; the second moves toward a cryptic, holistic model o f w h ich there can be d iffe re n t types. C ounterposing the “ economic factor” against “ consciousness,” arguing that consciousness was determ ined by social being, the factor model was a S cientific M arxism that degenerated in to “ vulgar M arxism .” T h e sec-

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ond developm ent o f M arxism —toward cryptic holism —w hich sim ply holds that consciousness is not autonomous but an aspect of the w hole— was Lukacs’s vision o f a C ritic a l M arxism that focused on the “ to ta lity .” Each o f the two models is thus produced d iffe re n tly : T h e factorial model o f M arxism is produced by focusing on an overcom ing o f p h ilo ­ sophical idealism that re-contextualizes consciousness by affirm ing its alleged contrary, the economic factor. Lukacs’s cryptic to ta lity model, how ­ ever, is produced by re-contextualizing the economic its e lf, and in addi­ tion, it ( 1 ) rejects factorialization as a species o f m echanical model, ( 2 ) accepts a tacit organicism , and ( 3 ) form ulates a critiq u e o f idealism that does not sim ply counter-assert the contrary o f consciousness b u t ne­ gates the logic o f “ the last instance” as an epistemological p rin cip le . Factorial model, materialism -as-contrary, vulgar M arxism , is economistic, sociologistic, and structural. I t focuses on socioeconomic structures as having th e ir own unsw erving im pulsion, th e ir own autonomous b lin d laws; as fundam entally ( “ in the last instance” ) im pervious to other re­ gions surrounding it. I t interposes a one-way osmotic membrane between itse lf and them and is thus not as open to other “ factors” as they are to it. I t is not as reciprocally exposed to fundam ental transform ations from the larger eco-system, its lin ks w ith “ nature” being only residually ac­ knowledged. N o r, fo r that m atter, does it lin k the socioeconomic sub­ system to the psychodynam ic level, to the psychology and physiology o f persons. O perating w ith a hierarchical metaphysic, a factor model o f M arxism treats some things as real and others as not, or at any rate, treats some things as more real than elements in the ideological super­ structure. Its holism , then, is patriarchal. T h e more tru ly holistic perspective o f C ritic a l M arxism is, by con­ trast, a general social science (o r th e o ry) in embryo. A general social sci­ ence or theory is not one, such as economics or sociology, but, rather, as­ sumes that any accounting o f hum an behavior always im plies a num ber o f d iffe re n t “ levels.” A ll o f these are always im plicated in affecting out­ comes, although some levels may not be focal to the w ork conventionally done by a special social science. A general social science or theory im plies a levels analysis w hich holds that, for any proposition about hum an be­ havior to be true at any one level, som ething m ust be the case at each and all the other levels. W h ile the concrete “ parts” examined in an analy­ sis vary w ith the specific syste m /to ta lity being studied, each level must always be touched e x p lic itly (o r is otherwise used im p lic itly and hence u n c ritic a lly ) in any analysis o f any concrete system /totality. A ll levels m ust in p rin cip le always be considered. Am ong the d iffe re n t levels that a levels-focused general social disci­ p lin e m igh t, fo r example, encompass, there could be the ecological, the

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psychological, the social system, the cu ltu ra l, the class, status, or role level. A general social discipline im plies that no analysis can avoid having im plications or m aking assumptions at each o f these levels. T o empha­ size, as I have above, that C ritic a l M arxism is a general social science in embryo means that its spread does not “ now ” encompass the variety o f conceivable levels, b u t that its com m itm ent to to ta lity analysis moves it toward a more inclusive coverage o f the levels. C e rta in ly, a general social discipline does not m erely premise b u t a rticulately insists that a society's fu n c tio n in g cannot be understood apart from its class system or that its class system and economy cannot be understood apart from the other lev­ els. A general social discipline thus generalizes M arx's denial that the “ consciousness” level (o r c u ltu re ) is autonomous. A n im pulse toward a general social discipline, however, may be said to be “ utopian” ( in M arx's sense) w ith o u t the p rio r m aturation o f the several special social sciences or theories. In th e ir absence or d u rin g th e ir im m a tu rity, the im pulse toward a general social discipline can be ex­ pressed o n ly through philosophy, w h ich overshoots the required level o f generality. H ere philosophy usurps the place o f social science and theory. A nother possible result, however, is th a t M arxism its e lf tends to become ju st another special social science, fo r example, a radical p o litica l econ­ omy. H ere philosophy is abandoned. In both cases, however, M arxism 's capacity fo r scientific and theoretical generality is damaged. W ith the repression o f M arxism 's im pulse toward a general social dis­ ciplin e, and w ith its movement toward a special theory, philosophy its e lf m ust be repressed, and M arxism becomes ju s t another “ norm al” social science specialization, thus com peting w ith and substituting its e lf fo r “ bourgeois” sciences. T h is is a m aneuver o f S cientific M arxism . C orre­ spondingly, C ritic a l M arxism 's move toward a general theory always en­ tails—in Lukacs, Korsch, and Gram sci—the re h a b ilita tio n o f philosophy; w h ile dow nplaying the relevance o f the special social sciences, rather than c ritic a lly incorporating th e ir new contributions w ith in the fram e­ w ork o f philosophical critiqu e . M arxism thus seems to oscillate between ignorance o f the special social sciences and capitulation to them . A critiq u e o f the specialized social sciences that sim ply negates and es­ chews them as “ bourgeois ideologies” leads M arxism toward a singular dependence upon philosophy w h ich is to ta lly inconsistent w ith M arx's own clarion call to aafhebe or sublate, transcend, and indeed abolish, philosophy. T h e naive assim ilation o f the social sciences, w hich is to say, an assim ilation that is only technical w ith o u t being c ritic a lly reflective, is a philosophical regression; ju st as the first tendency—ignorance or denun­ ciation o f the technical sciences as bourgeois ideologies—is a technical and scientific regression.

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T h e M etaphysical Pathos o f System and T o ta lity H o lis tic analysis in M arxism takes two forms, a focus on ‘ system” in one case and on “ to ta lity ” in the other; each is embedded in a d iffe re n t set o f dom ain assumptions, each generates a d iffe re n t structure o f senti­ ments, and depends on d iffe re n t metaphors. T o ta lity analysis is the holism o f C ritic a l M arxism w h ile systems analysis is the holism o f S cientific M arxism . System is more fu lly infused w ith a mechanical met­ aphor, w h ile to ta lity is suffused w ith organicist im port. T o see the whole as system is to see it as man-made as, fo r example, a clock; the metaphys­ ical pathos invoked here is unsentim ental, secularized, part o f the every­ day life , part o f the ordinary. In contrast, to view the whole as to ta lity lin ks it to an organicist m etaphor and w ith that w hich is not man-made, w ith “ life ” w hich is a given rather than a produced th ing; w hich is the premise o f all m aking, and, indeed, precedes m ankind itself, re taining an aura o f the transcendent, and possibly the sacred and extraordinary. T h e com plexity that “ system” invokes is fo rb id d in g b u t relatively in ­ te llig ib le because it is man-made through “ organization” and w ork. T h e com plexity o f “ to ta lity ,” however, is even heavier and denser, evoking the w eight o f the past, tra d itio n , history, and can be discouraging, at least to those com m itted to changing the w orld. Both system and to ta lity, however, are co m p le xity-intim a tin g and both are in some measure disso­ n ant w ith voluntarism , fo r each indicates the d ifficu ltie s o f deliberate in ­ tervention. Each indicates the m u ltip lic ity o f considerations needing to be weighed; each induces an awareness o f possible unanticipated conse­ quences o f intervention w hich may, indeed, discourage the entire project. Because o f this, each needs sim p lify in g strategies, in effect, enabling it to bypass the in tim a tin g sense o f com plexity yielded by notions o f system and to ta lity. One such is to stress the special w eight o f some one factor, to s im p lify the syste m /to ta lity by focusing, fo r example, on determ ina­ tion by the economic “ in the fin a l instance.” A second dodge is to make the in te rn a l native disposition o f the complex w hole parallel the in te n ­ tion sought. H ere it is held that the goal sought is guaranteed by the sys­ tem ’s own natural evolution, as, fo r example, in vulgar M arxism ’s theory o f the autom atic economic crash. There is, then, a certain dissonance between p o litica l intervention and a ll holistic analysis. H o lis tic theory co n tin u a lly intim idates and threat­ ens praxis. T h e more sensitive an actor is to com plexities intim ated by system or to ta lity models, the more anxious he becomes when faced w ith the need to decide and act. One result is that he may suspend action al­ together, amputate the praxis side o f the theory-praxis equation, and academicize M arxism , transform ing it in to another contem plative social

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science. Both system and to ta lity models heighten anxieties about the very possibility o f rational social action, about its outcomes, and, indeed about w hether or not it is controllable at a ll. Yet cognitive uncertainty is not equally conducive to anxiety in a ll persons. T h e more rig id , the more hierarchically m inded, and the more “ a u th o ritaria n ” w ill have less capac­ ity to tolerate cognitive am biguities and w ill be pressed harder toward so­ lutio n s fo r dealing w ith it. Some may flir t w ith the m ystique o f “ revolu­ tionary leaps,” others rely on a co n tro llin g bureaucratic authoritarianism . T h e “ system” analysis o f S cientific M arxism is a m ethodical e ffort to take hold o f the m any elements involved in any action situation, to trace out th e ir interconnections, and to provide a dynam ic social geography o f the action terrain in w h ich p o litica l intervention is to occur. T h a t, on its rational side. O n another side, however, its form ulation o f lim ite d neatly specified “ variables,” and th e ir careful perm utations, has a ritu a l, anxiety­ co n tro llin g im port affording a sense o f control that is not altogether tech­ n ic a lly justifie d . T h is is so because o f ( 1 ) the in e vita b ly great sim plification it entails, i.e., the relatively small num ber o f “ variables” w ith w hich it deals, and ( 2 ) because it can have reference o n ly to situations o f a certain average type—those covered by the explicated variables—rather than the unique one concretely at issue. In that sense, systems analysis may be regarded as in fa r t a ritu a l fo r reducing the very anxieties about com plexity th a t it its e lf heightens, effected by a process o f sim plification, selectively focus­ in g attention on a w ell-boundaried fraction o f the situation, cognitively decomposing it in to a small num ber o f sim plified entities. In effect, the metaphysics o f systems analysis may persuade persons that the w orld is manageable p a rtly by the usable technologies it provides, and p a rtly also by its “ sober” rhetoric w hich sim plifies and vulgarizes com plexity. Its happy m otto is: things are really sim pler and more controllable than they look. T h e metaphysics o f C ritic a l M arxism 's to ta lity analysis, however, is com m itted to the view that the w orld is more complex and devious than it seems; it holds that sim p licity is only skin deep, and resonates a sense o f mystery. T o it, life is not a m achine that can be taken apart and p o li­ tics is not just a technology fo r “ m aking” history. Situations have a cer­ tain im pe n e tra b ility not only because they are complex, b u t also because they are touched w ith pathos, are the site w ith in w hich men w ork out th e ir destiny and in w hich the most fa te fu l issues hang in the balance. (T h is resonates Lukacs's “ revolutionary messianism.” ) H ere the meta­ physics o f the to ta lity demands intervention even as it heightens anxiety about intervention. In the metaphysics o f the to ta lity, the w hole contains am biguities, uncertainties, and im portant lacunae; it has both fu lfillin g

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and calamitous possibilities, a great destiny toward w hich there is no as­ sured technology. W h ile systems analysis deals w ith average entities, thus guiding action in a set o f cases, to ta lity analysis conceives the w hole as a unique, singu­ la r id e n tity , as an “ in d iv id u a l” d iffe re n t from all others in its structure and operation, and seeks to grasp that unique in d iv id u a lity as the ground­ in g o f its practical intervention at some specific moment. B ut to take hold o f such in d iv id u a lity is no routine m atter; it requires a probing dynam ic assessment—a “ leap” ?—rare theoretical skills, and the most extraordinary personal qualities. Lukacs’s insistent characterization o f Le n in as a “ genius” may be taken as an e ffo rt to reassure those w ho confront the com plexity o f to ta lity. In other words, dealing w ith the to ta lity is conducive to charisma-mongering. I am inclin ed to call this the irra tio n a l side o f to ta lity analysis. Yet is it really altogether irra tio n a l to assume that understanding a unique in d i­ vidu a l case is an art re q u irin g exceptional experience, rigorous tra in in g , and rare talent, rather than being a standardizable scientific judgm ent producible by any num ber o f interchangeable persons? A judgm ent con­ cerning an in d iv id u a l case at a given m om ent can o n ly be made by those know ing the current condition o f the “ in d iv id u a l,” and fo r this no knowledge o f scientific generalizations, however necessary, can ever be substituted. W h ile many persons may be competent w ith respect to the generalizations bearing on a class o f systems, the num ber competent to speak o f any one case in this class, and then o f its current condition, is always considerably smaller. A n d the num ber com petent to intervene e f­ fe ctive ly in that unique system is fewer s till. T h e optim istic assumption concerning the essential interchangeability o f large numbers o f analysts using standardized procedures is not so readily granted fo r practitioners o f the p o litica l herm eneutic.

Intellectuals as Functionaries o f the T o ta lity Both system- and totality-analysis represent the u n ify in g efforts o f d iffe r­ ent in te lle ctu a l com m unities to reintegrate a knowledge system frag­ mented by the increasing scientific division o f labor. “ System” is the re u n ify in g w ork produced by the cu ltu re and cadres o f science. Its fu n ­ dam ental e ffort is to reintegrate by creating a new special science o f ac­ tio n —fo r example: operations research, cybernetics, Skinnerian behavior m odification, S cientific M arxism —rather than a general science, thus es­ sentially bypassing all the other special social sciences. B ut in bypassing the other social sciences, the new systems analysis cannot constitute an integration o f th e ir knowledge; it instead provides o n ly a general theory

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o f instrumental control over social systems and hum an behavior. Such systems analysis thus o n ly papers over and reproduces the fragm entation o f knowledge. I t is p rim a rily an adm inistrative tool; disinterested in knowledge per se, it increasingly equates knowledge w ith control. W h a t it integrates, then, is not knowledge b u t action , and in p a rticular, in ­ strum ental adm inistrative action by bureaucratic management. T h e sociological infrastructure o f systems analysis’s reunification effort is the grow th o f separated com m unities o f technical specialists ecologi­ cally adjacent to one another w ith in the fram ew ork o f the modem bu­ reaucracy. T h e object o f a bureaucracy is to act effectively on its envi­ ronm ent and its technical experts’ knowledge is seen as instrum ental to th a t end. Its problem atic, to w h ich systems analysis corresponds, is thus the synthesis o f special sciences at the level o f social action. Systems analysis is thus the ideology o f a technical intelligentsia whose various specializations have to be integrated because they are responsible to a common bureaucratic a u th o rity fo r a common project. C orrespondingly, to ta lity analysis is the ideology o f non-specialized, boundary-transgressing hum anistic “ intellectuals” w ho—w ith the decline o f the once universal church and the rise o f fragm enting scientific spe­ cialties—seek to re kn it inte lle ctu a l u n ity , restore a common value system, and, by b rid g in g ordinary languages w ith technical languages, to infuse the everyday life w ith enhanced m eaning. T h e quest fo r to ta lity ex­ pressed a longing fo r a co m m un ity-b u ild in g coherent vision that tran­ scends the m u ltip lic ity o f diverse and s h iftin g perspectives—seeking, in ­ deed, to vanquish perspectivity as such—and to overcome the barriers in the em erging inte lle ctu a l division o f labor. T h e search fo r to ta lity is also a quest fo r that site where scholarship or science comes together—not should, b u t no, in fact, comes together—w ith re lig io n ’s im pulse, p a rticu la rly the im pulse o f religions o f salvation, to make men brothers.12 T h e quest fo r to ta lity, then—even when presented as a problem o f secular philosophy—always has subterranean lin ks w ith religion and, especially, w ith religions o f salvation. T h e process is the outcome o f the secularization o f German philosophy’s evolution from God to Geist and from Geist to “ to ta lity .” T h is clearly cannot be read to mean, however, that there is no rational content in the quest fo r to ta lity, or that it is “ mere” religion. I t does not mean that the concern w ith to ta lity is “ o n ly” a rationalization o f the re li­ gious interest w ith o u t independent secular content and devoid o f in te l­ lectual va lid ity. T h e quest fo r the to ta lity is the hidden place o f the sa­ cred in secular social theory, a palim psestic archaeological site in w hich the secular tradition builds its new altar overlaying the old pagan w or­ ship place, h id in g it, yet affected by its presence. A t the secular level, this

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is expressed in a search fo r a common ‘ p u b lic interest” that, facilitated by a new, lib e ra tin g knowledge, transcends co n flictin g egoisms and par­ tisan group interests. In M arxism , the “ p u b lic interest” or “ universal” cannot be pursued by the w hole its e lf fo r the whole is in te rn a lly contra­ dictory, fragm ented; instead the interests o f the whole can be pursued only by the struggle fo r some part—the proletarian “ historical agent.” T he quest fo r the to ta lity is the modern secularized descendant of a n tiq uity's quest fo r Logos, the sacred w hole w hich was the fusion o f reason and the god, o f goodness and power, embodied in the W o rd . T h e n as now the problem was: w ho speaks fo r the totality? T h e n as now, the to ta lity was the province o f the specialists w ho strove to con­ nect appearances and the realm beyond, who united phenomena and noumena, the secular and the sacred, and w ho bridge the ordinary lan­ guages o f the everyday life and the extraordinary languages o f arcane learning. W ith the decline o f the church and the rise o f fragm enting in ­ tellectual specializations, the problem o f seeing and speaking fo r the w hole grows more acute. T o speak fo r the to ta lity becomes the selfassumed mission o f those intellectuals w ith ties to the older hum anistic disciplines, intellectuals w ho are alienated by the rise o f the new sciences and technologies that supplant them in p u b lic esteem and support. T h e quest fo r the new secularized Logos becomes the mission o f alienated in ­ tellectuals convinced that the culture they bear is a great tra d ition , b u t em bittered at the indifference o f the new technological society. In effect, these intellectuals serve as brokers b rid g in g technical languages w ith the ordinary languages o f the p u b lic life , thus re jo in in g the fragm ented w orld. “ T o ta lity ” becomes the w ar banner w h ich these intellectuals raise against the p a rtia lity o f the technical intelligentsia and the increasing ir ­ relevance to the everyday life o f the old religious specialists: Intellectuals become the new functionaries o f the to ta lity. A n y general theory o f intellectuals, then, m ust see them as “ vulnera­ ble” to a certain kin d o f vision, the vision o f u n itin g the to ta lity; and it m ust be noted especially that they do this through th e ir control o f diverse languages, by b rid g in g ordinary and extraordinary languages. R evolution­ ary intellectuals in p articular serve to bridge the extraordinary languages o f the “ great” cu ltu ra l traditions o f the cosmopolitan w o rld —science, p h i­ losophy, “ theory” —w ith the ordinary languages o f local “ little traditions,” o f insulated workers and peasants whom (th e y aver) they serve.

12 Dialectic of Recovery and Holism

I f the doctrine o f recovery is often used to restore som ething to its au­ thentic wholeness, holism is often aimed at overcom ing some sensed lim it and recovering w hat has been excluded or forgotten in a given epoch. T h e tw o doctrines face com plem entary d ifficulties. O n the one side, h o listic analysis risks treating a ll elements as i f they were o f equal im portance. It runs the risk o f objectivism , o f hum an irrelevance, and o f com m itm ent to the banality w hich says, everything is related to every­ th in g else, hence n o th in g is more im portant to attend to than a n yth ing else. O n the other side, the doctrine o f recovery risks co n fin in g attention to o n ly a small part o f the w hole—that w h ich had been forgotten, thus overshadowing im portant forces that were already w ell know n; it creates a new forgetting. H olism —the objective side—is an attem pt to overcome the inevitable p a rtia lity o f a focus on the forgotten whose circle o f illu m in a tio n , w h ile intense, is narrow in circum ference. T h e doctrine o f recovery—the sub­ jective side—can compensate fo r a holism that, co n tin u a lly extending its boundaries aim ing at inclusiveness, loses a clear organizing center. Every * grand theory,” in c lu d in g M arxism , is involved in a precarious d i­ alectic between ( i ) its e ffo rt to provide a comprehensive picture o f the to ta lity and ( 2 ) its w ish to accent only a lim ite d part g f the to ta lity that it takes to be a precarious, cognitively underprivileged b it o f re a lity—i.e., in danger o f being forgotten, neglected, or underestim ated. In w hat fo l­ lows, I shall give tw o examples o f where this happened in theories other

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than M arxism , in M a x W eber and T a lco tt Parsons, and then return to show how this is true also o f M arxism . C oncerning Parsons N o social theory has been more em phatic than Parsons’s in insisting on the general im portance o f conceiving o f society (and other, smaller groups) as ‘ social systems” composed o f an inte ractin g 'Ego” and “ A l­ te r” and o f other m u tu a lly interdependent parts; and no social theory has been more insistent in attem pting to overcome fragm entation and make the w orld whole. Parsons’s theory focuses repeatedly and most generally on such questions o f systems analysis as the character o f system “ in te r­ dependence,” o f system m aintenance, o f boundary exchange and system e q u ilib riu m . Parsons’s central assumption is that it is not possible to in ­ terpret any single social pattern except by re fe rrin g it systematically to some larger whole, and he is led fo rth w ith to the ex cathedra specifica­ tion o f the system’s interdependent parts, its entire social anatomy, on the supposition th a t—since all social parts are m u tu a lly in flu e n tia l—no one o f them can be understood unless seen in its linkages w ith all the others. M u ch o f Parsons’s emphasis on system interdependence is a polem ical response to social theories such as M arxism that he interprets as im ­ properly em phasizing the im portance o f the economic, or some other single factor. Nonetheless, Parsons’s w ork at the same tim e has some­ times been called a “ value M arxism ” because it often elides in to a one­ sided focus on the im portance o f values, m oralities, or norm ative ele­ ments. I f Parsons’s social systems theory understands society as a whole composed o f many interdependent parts, his “ social action” theory fo ­ cuses more narrow ly on norm ative elements w hich he fe lt had been ne­ glected by “ u tilita ria n ” and “ Hobbesian” models—among them , M arxism . For Parsons, then, the social w orld is not m erely a system o f w hich the “ m oral” elem ent is one among m any equally in flu e n tia l peers, but is a u n iq u e ly moral w orld in w hich norm ative elements play a role to w hich he assigns a special force. W hen Parsons analyzes a social system, then, he gives special atten­ tion to the way behavior conforms to or deviates from the legitim ated, value-underw ritten expectations o f others. As part o f the special empha­ sis Parsons gives to such norm ative elements, there is, also, the unique significance he repeatedly attributes to religion, in general, and (fo r W estern European cu ltu re s) to C h ristia n ity, in p a rticu la r.1 Parsons’s w ork thus manifests the ambivalence between holistic analysis focused on incorporating the largest, most com plicated variety o f factors, and a

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dissonant b u t unm istakable emphasis on one lim ite d area, the m oral and norm ative.

Concerning Weber M a x W eber's own w ork manifests a sim ilar vacillation, operating in some cases w ith an e ffo rt to incorporate com plexity and variety, w h ile , in others, aim ing to b rin g in to focus a lim ite d and precarious factor. A c­ tu a lly, however, W eber had two d iffe re n t kinds o f factors that he wished to focalize. One o f these was a norm ative elem ent such as the Protestant E th ic, w h ile the other was sheer “ dom ination” w ith o u t m oral support. Both are central to his analysis. W eber thus faces tw o directions sim ultaneously. In one, when he fo­ cuses on the im portance o f religious elements, he is essentially develop­ in g a critiq u e o f M arx's “ fo rg e ttin g ” o f the m oral and religious factor and o f his treatm ent o f it as derivative o f “ m aterial” forces. In particular, W eber is developing an historicist critiq u e that stresses the uniqueness o f W estern society and capitalism and, indeed, o f the Protestant E th ic as a spur to rational economic a ctivity, w ork, and commerce. W eber is in ef­ fect arguing that M a rx was over-generalizing when he held that social being determ ined social consciousness in all societies. W eber insists that, in some societies and at some times, consciousness shapes economic be­ ing. The Protestant Ethic and the S pirit of Capitalism is essentially an argum ent to that effect. W eber, in short, was attem pting not o n ly to recover m orality and re li­ gion from M arx's fo rgetting but, more than that, to recover the sense o f the historical specificity o f the W est and its dependence upon a special religious ethic. H e was try in g to recover the sense o f historical texture from theoretical schem atization. A t the same tim e, it is crucial to remem­ ber that W eber is a post-M arxist. H e wants to draw a lin e between his own theoretical standpoint and M arx's w ith o u t regressing to pre-M arxist idealism and w ith o u t surrendering to a com pulsive anti-M arxism . H e wants to incorporate and transcend M arx, not sim ply oppose him . M arx's critiq u e had not le ft idealism unscathed; it had penetrated a German university culture that had once been nucleated by idealism . M arxism had produced a distancing from idealism even among m any German academicians themselves. T h e ir own involvem ents w ith state power and German nationalism had grown. I t is p a rtly on these grounds that W eber also focuses on dom ination and on the D arw inian struggle fo r survival among representatives o f d iffe re n t cultures, views the state as an amoral power instrum ent w ith a m onopoly on p o litica l violence, and stresses the im portance o f p o litica l prudence (th e ethic o f “ responsibil­ ity ” ) w hich he contrasts w ith p o litica l moralism (th e absolutist e th ic ).

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W eber wants to recover M arxism ’s realism, its recognition of the amoral dim ension o f m uch social dom ination, protecting this from the unive rsity’s im pulse to regress to a pre-M arxist, idealistic view o f politics and the state. In focalizing the role o f m orality, he means to draw the lin e between M a rx and him self in an exacting m anner, refusing to allow respectable opposition to M arxism to make h im overstate his own posi­ tion. H is recovery o f religious elements was therefore cautious and q u a li­ fied; he refused to claim a universal independence fo r them to match M a rx ’s assertion o f th e ir universal dependence. H e thus argues that in the modem era, religion had little o f its earlier influence in generating the developm ent o f capitalism . H e stresses the historical difference: “ T h e Puritans wanted to w ork in a calling, we are forced to do so.” In short, it was not o n ly the religious and m oral factor W eber wanted to recover, b u t the elem ent o f realism and historical specificity, in both politics and scholarship. H e sees scholarship and politics as heroic ac­ tivitie s and as realms fo r the clash o f heroes. H e is not, as he was once called, the “ M a rx o f the bourgeoisie” but, i f an yth ing o f the sort, the L e n in . H e wanted men w ho could not only choose conscientiously b ut w ho could also fig h t fo r w hat they chose, rather than passively subm it to the em erging system o f im personal dom ination. H e wanted to recover the im portance o f the in d iv id u a l in a social w orld where massive economic forces and great gray organization machines were overw helm ing him . In seeking this w ith in the fram ew ork o f an insistent realism that rejected rom antic illu sio n , he could not have been optim istic. H e sensed that the “ Iron Cage” was upon us, that the times were w rong for his project. Yet he was n o t about to throw in his hand. W eber, then, faced tw o ways: one, in the holist direction, toward the construction o f a broadly comparative canvas w ith a fin e ly textured p o rtra it o f historical com plexity, w ith a “ m ulti-dim ensional” 2 stress on the m utual tensions and m utual elective a ffin ity o f both “ ideal and m aterial interests” —a form ulation w hich heightens the salience o f the moral ele­ m ent precisely by placing it w ith in the “ interest” fram ew ork o f M a rx­ ism. B ut W eber also faced in the “ recovery” direction, on the one side, forw ard to the recovery o f the religious ethic from M a rxist deprecation as a factor in historical developm ent, though w ith o u t to ta lizin g its sig n ifi­ cance; and, on the other side, toward the recovery o f a realistic focus on dom ination and struggle from the regressive impulses o f German u niver­ sity culture.

Reverting to M arx T h e same tensions evident in T a lco tt Parsons and M a x W eber were ear­ lie r displayed in M a rx and M arxism : the dialectic between ( 1 ) an ef-

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fo rt to encompass the larger w hole, to provide a picture o f the social whole in its com plexity, on the one side, and ( 2 ) to rescue fu g itive ele­ ments o f cognitively underprivileged social reality, on the other. M a rx is repeatedly and unavoidably ta lkin g about two things at once: the im por­ tance o f property (o f mode o f p ro d u ctio n ) in its relation to the ideologi­ cal and p o litica l superstructure. M arxism is at pains to ta lk about the capitalist “ system” w ith its in tim a te ly interconnected, m u tu a lly in flu e n ­ tia l parts and, at the same tim e, to characterize its dom inant part. T h e notion o f a “ capitalist system” does both, establishing capital as a system o f social relationships w h ile clearly focalizing the center o f that system in capital. M u ch the same may be said about the broader, more general mode o f analysis, M arxism ’s “ historical m aterialism .” I t operates w ith p a rtia lly tacit, p a rtia lly e xp licit, distinctions between those sectors that control “ in the last instance,” the economic infrastructure, and those that react back on the form er b u t are controlled in that last instance, i.e., the p o litica lideological superstructure. T h e im portance attrib u te d to the form er takes the form o f e xh ib itin g its ra m ifyin g influence on a m u ltip lic ity o f other, dependent social parts, w h ich could constitute a w hole only w ith and by virtu e o f the determ ining sector. For M a rx, however, holism was im portant b u t not problem atic. I t was an intellectual inheritance given and presum ably vouchsafed by his H egelian antecedents. W h a t was problem atic to h im , therefore, was the recovery o f property and the economic factor, o f the fu g itive part that was cognitively precarious, i.e., underprivileged reality. T h is part could be focused on precisely because the holistic perspective was already firm ly established fo r M arx. Yet it is typical that, in the very process o f recovering the neglected part, the previously consolidated larger w hole itse lf, and its once firm ly established other parts, could become precarious. Discussions o f M arxism ’s d istin ctio n between, and lin k in g of, eco­ nom ic infrastructure and id e o lo g ica l/p o litica l superstructure, usually, and correctly, recognize th a t his p a rticular system dim inishes the im portance a ttributed to the superstructure. Yet i f no im portance at a ll is attrib u te d to the superstructure, w h y include its elements? By m aking systematic reference to superstructural elements, by locating them in relation to o th­ ers, M a rx ’s theory (lik e any form o f h o listic th in k in g ) stabilizes fu tu re referral to it, makes an abiding place fo r it. T h e superstructure need n o t later be invoked o n ly in an ad hoc way, thus in effect preventing its re­ current forgetting. A ll holistic th in k in g , in c lu d in g systems analysis or to ta lity analysis, functions to prevent fo rgetting, seeks to consolidate in the system ele­ ments that had previously been seen and recovered, and to lay down a

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memory channel from w h ich the rescued element can later be retrieved, w ith o u t having on each new occasion to reproduce the in itia l struggle fo r its recovery. I t is, therefore, o n ly the 'particular form o f M a rx ’s system that acts to d im in ish the ideological and p o litica l superstructure; its gen­ eral aspect as a holistic analysis necessarily b u t su b lim in a lly preserved the superstructure from being forgotten. T here is, then, a b u ilt-in ten­ sion between the particula r and the general aspects o f M arxism ’s holism . For if, on the one side, M a rx ’s p a rticula r version o f holism dim inished the superstructure’s im portance, its general character as a holistic analy­ sis refused to allow the superstructure to be forgotten altogether and con­ tains an im p lic it w arn in g : You forget the superstructure only at your p e ril! A t that level, the theory contains an in n e r tension i f not a contra­ d ictio n . Pay special attention to property, it says e xp lic itly ; do not forget about the superstructure, it says tacitly. I t is this tension in te rn a l to M a rxist theory that contributes to the recurring structural d iffe re n tiatio n between S cientific and C ritic a l M arxism s. T h e latte r seeks to revise the devaluation o f the superstructure d e rivin g from the e xp licit doctrine, w h ile re taining the tacit holism , i.e., polem ically in vo lvin g the “ to ta lity .” I t is the fu n ctio n o f C ritic a l M arxism to recover the superstructural ele­ ments that S cientific M arxism forgets.

A m n e sia and D is c o n tin u ity In h e re nt in the dialectic between the doctrines o f recovery and holism , despite holism ’s best efforts, is an everpresent danger o f d isco n tin u ity. O ld recoveries can once again be forgotten; continual progress, co n tin u ­ ity and cum ulation are not inevitable. Indeed, every new recovery can generate a new repression or regenerate an old one; can create a language change th a t defocalizes and unstabilizes w hat was once know n. A new recovery can distract attention from other factors, allow ing them to flit around in the h a lf-w orld o f m erely a u xilia ry attention. I f a theory ex­ presses, it also represses and distracts; i f it sensitizes, it also desensitizes, papering over in te lle ctu a l lacunae or conflicts and creating a sense o f u n ity that is p a rtly spurious. N arcissistically d w e llin g in its own lim ite d circle o f new illu m in a tio n , it may let the learning o f the past lapse in to a darkness penetrable only in an ad hoc way. T h e outcome o f the M a rxist theory o f the state, fo r example, suggests that, in the dialectic between the doctrine o f recovery and the holistic perspective, it is the latte r that is the more precarious. I f one o f the ob­ jects o f recovery is to make the self w hole again, then this is surely iron ic. T h e doctrine o f recovery gains strength from the interests o f in d i­ vidu a listic intellectuals in establishing th e ir inte lle ctu a l o rig in a lity and

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from th e ir com petitive drive to demarcate th e ir own contributions from others', thus in d u cin g them to overemphasize the recovery o f the part w ith w hich they happen to have been associated. T h e capacity o f theo­ rists to pursue the recovery o f some part is distorted by a background ru le peculiar to the theorist's com m unity. T h is condemns the speaking o f the commonplace as a trite bathos; even though that commonplace may ac­ tu a lly refer to som ething im portant; i f it is already know n, it may be given less emphasis than som ething less im po rta n t b u t new ly discovered. T o this extent, then, the culture o f the theorist's com m unity betrays the needs o f the everyday life , and the needs o f theory contradict those o f practice.

L im its on H o lis m and R ecovery W h ile it may seem to some that the doctrines o f holism and o f recovery are both unexceptionable—fo r who does not w ant to see clearly w hat he has o n ly glimpsed, and w ho does not w ant to be w hole and have his w orld w hole again?—nonetheless, each o f these doctrines has im portant lim its to its ra tio na lity. T h e call fo r wholeness is more ambiguous than it seems at first glance. I f it is taken to im p ly th a t there is o n ly one k in d o f wholeness, then it is p la in ly doctrinaire, asking obedience to an unex­ am ined premise. T here is the wholeness o f the society o f ants and that o f the p ile o f sand; neither is the more com pelling because o f the gross de­ fects o f the other. T h e call to wholeness is tainted by a rom anticism w h ich —donning the m antle o f religions o f salvation and o n ly fa in tly secularizing them — interprets wholeness as “ brotherhood." I t views wholeness as an organic grow th overcom ing the pervasive loneliness o f a society atomized by com petition. It looks forw ard to a society in w hich each feels an in n e r com m union w ith a ll others, w hich im plies that all share the same ideol­ ogy and m orality. H ere a solacing solidarity is purchased at the price o f w hat may readily be the crushing o f in d iv id u a lity , the b lu n tin g o f in d i­ vidual differences on behalf o f group integration, and a deadening con­ sensus. Such a conception o f holism easily becomes the ideology o f an overbearing, paranoiac state apparatus, and can be convincing o n ly to those whose religious sensibility allows them to expect the im m in e n t res­ o lu tio n o f a ll conflicts between individu a ls, on the one side, and the so­ ciety or state, on the other. One may also guess that this ideal o f brother­ hood appeals more to older than younger brothers. T h e joy o f brotherhood, ta citly based on the fa m ily paradigm , always premises an area outside o f the fa m ily; but the state and society as a brotherhood w ould have no such free space to w hich persons m ig h t escape. I f one does n o t expect the im -

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m inent end o f a ll contradiction, one wants to take care that any planned society allows the open expression o f contradictions rather than having them papered over and repressed by an imposed consensus.3 T h e M a rxist notion o f w hat lim ite d the achievement o f wholeness was itse lf a ll too lim ite d . I t conceived o f the lim itin g as a “ m aterial” force, and therefore, as an “ interest” ; it thereby linked the lim itin g force p ri­ m a rily to sensuous satisfactions, venality, producing incomes or avoiding th e ir loss. I t took these as lim itin g because it premised that scarcity was at the bottom o f the m atter. E lim in a te scarcity and you do away w ith egoism, it assumed, and w ith this the grounding fo r selfish class interests. W h y , indeed, be selfish if there is enough fo r everyone? B ut how m uch and when is enough, enough? M arxism thought about scarcity in an obje ctivistic manner, as i f it depended o n ly on the object-side, on the am ount o f goods produced in an economy, rather than depending (n o t instead of, b u t) also on the expectations, am bitions, and m oralities o f people, i.e., on the subject-side. I t altogether missed the fact that m aterial interests were fu lly and in tim a te ly interdependent w ith ideal interests and that each defined and shaped the other; and it was led to do so sys­ tem atically, by reason o f its m aterialism w hich polem ically held that it was not consciousness that determ ined social being, b u t social being that determ ined consciousness. In its systematic theorizing, M arxism focused on scarcity as economic and n o t p o litica l in character, and thus could never system atically incor­ porate w hat it p la in ly saw; the am bitions o f the-power h u n gry to be first, to be dom inant, to have repute, honors, and glory. T h e w ill to power is grounded not o n ly in economic scarcity, and it w ill not, therefore, be overcome when or i f economic scarcity is eased or overcome. Russia and C hina struggle no less fu rio u sly than Russia and the U n ite d States. M em bers o f the P olitburo struggle to be party leader; cardinals strive to be Pope; members o f the company board o f directors scheme to become chairm an. Indeed, historically, men have repeatedly squandered goods and incomes in order to achieve pre-eminence and power. T h e p u rsuit of power is thus not sim ply an e ffort to ensure selfish incomes or to prevent th e ir loss. Indeed, the p u rsu it o f power is often at its most ruthless when it is least selfish in an yth ing like the ordinary sense, i.e., when it is p u r­ sued in order to secure the highest, most sacred value and ideal interests, and where the goal is not mere personal pre-eminence or vanity b u t re­ production o f ones own kind. I f M arxism 's search fo r wholeness deepens modern ra tio n a lity by denying the autonom y o f speech and lin k in g it to the speaker and his class interests, M arxism was also naively utopian, because it did not go far enough in exploring the diversity o f factors that m ig h t distort under-

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standing. M arxism s critiq u e o f "ideology” focused on the m anner in w hich tru th was corrupted by interest. T h is, o f course, opened the door to a n ih ilis m w hich held that, since tru th rests on interests, each m an’s tru th is as good as any others. M arxism , however, sought to close that door, not by denying that tru th was grounded in interest, b u t by denying that all interests were equal, p a rticu la rly in the lim its they imposed upon tru th claims. In claim ing that the proletariat was a 'u n ive rsa l class” whose interests coincided w ith most others’ in society, M arxism claim ed that the proletariat could speak a tru th closed to the bourgeoisie, and th a t this w ould not be lim ite d by the special interests o f other narrow elites. B u t this very affirm ation itse lf, w ith its m yth o f the proletariat as ru lin g class under socialism, concealed the role o f the N e w Class and its grow­ in g hegemony; the very conception o f the proletariat as the universal class was a m ystification behind w hich a new elite prepared its hegemony. T h is false consciousness on behalf o f a new elite was scarcely the o n ly way M arxism failed in its e ffort at a new wholeness. M arxism had as­ sumed that central to the fa ilu re o f holism was class exploitation and conflictive class interests. I t therefore assumed that the m ain enemy o f understanding was ideology—the partisan distortion o f wholeness on be­ h a lf o f a lim ite d class interest. B ut to hold that ideology is the sole or central distortion o f tru th is to impose another d isto rting p a rtia lity . I t ig ­ nores the role o f desire, o f the passions, and even o f "selfless” love, a ll o f w hich may generate th e ir own forms o f dom ination. These may be a bondage generated by loving, not due to the in a b ility to love. As W illa rd W a lle r once observed, those w ho love most are controlled by those w ho love less. N o r is it sim ply "W h e n you are in love,” as the old song w ent, that "smoke gets in your eyes.” For this means that we do not w ish to see the failures o f our beloved—no r w ish them to see ours—out o f a need to protect ourselves. B u t we also often w ish to protect them from any­ th in g that m ight h u rt them , in c lu d in g th e ir own failures. T h e vision o f the w hole is thus lim ite d by our a ltru istic no less than our selfish interests, by our noblest aspirations and ideal interests no less than our base m aterial interests. W e are lim ite d , then, not ju st by our anim al nature b u t our very h u m a n ity—by our very capacity fo r idealism and m orality. I t is n o t selfish interest alone th a t keeps the w hole beyond our reach, but lim its embedded in our very e ffort to overcome partisan­ ship. T o attem pt to place a ll the m any forms by w hich the understand­ in g can be distorted under the single ru b ric o f "ideology” is a utopian oversim plification; it desperately attempts to conceal its own lim ita tio n s under a specious totalization. T h e doctrine o f recovery, no less than holism , has its own im po rta n t lim its, o f w hich I can here b rie fly m ention o n ly tw o. First, we may note

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that, insofar as a theory makes its way by generating recoveries, it w ins acceptance fo r w hat it offers precisely by reason o f its fa m ilia rity , i.e., its evocation o f the sense o f deja vu. I t thus not only commands our atten­ tion by sensitizing us to w hat we already believed but elicits our convic­ tion in the tru th o f the recovery offered precisely because we already be­ lieved it. T h e doctrine o f recovery thus invites a specious confirm ation. W e say, in effect, yes it m ust be like that! For confirm ing us in w hat we have already believed, it relieves any tension we m ight have fe lt about it, and we now pronounce the recovery a tru th ratified, rather than an hypothesis yet to be confirm ed. I t is m uch as i f we had passed on a b it o f gossip to a frie n d w ho passed it on to another who, not know ing its source, then told us o f it and we, in tu rn , hearing it again are now more inclin ed than ever to believe it. Second, the doctrine o f recovery is, in its modem form , appealing be­ cause it is in effect a counterbalance to positivism . I f positivism external­ izes, d ire ctin g its e lf to problems o f observation and th e ir re lia b ility , the doctrine o f recovery internalizes our attention, and reminds us that it is hard to fin d things unless we know w hat we are looking for. T o para­ phrase Pascal, the D octrine o f Recovery says, we w ould not be looking fo r som ething unless we had already found it. I t says that we cannot possess w hat we do not already have, or understand w hat we do not al­ ready know . I t is a version o f the herm eneutic circle. T h is emphasis on the in te rn a l is rational only insofar as it counterbalances positivism 's externalization; b u t w hen it replaces this focus, it becomes another partial view in d u cin g us to lose contact w ith the w orld, w ith the stim ulation it can provide, as w e ll as w ith the serendipity and genuinely emergent nov­ e lty o f w hich the w orld is capable.

Elem ents in a R ational Social Theory R ational social theory, then, requires the careful maintenance o f a d e li­ cate dialectic between holism and recovery; between the effort at con­ solidating the past through deliberate cum ulation and co n tin u ity, and the doctrine o f recovery that illum inates narrow er concerns that had be­ come dim , overgrown w ith em pty form alism s, or repressed, b u t w hich now assume special im portance. T h e special, rational task o f the doctrine o f recovery is to lin k the theoretical systems o f the past to the special prob­ lematics and sensitivities o f the present; to add w hat the present needs b u t is short of; to press the old system toward a new reorganization bet­ ter enabling it to cope w ith new tasks, inte rna l and external. aT he O ld Theoretical System.” T h is, o f course, is an objectivistic way o f ta lkin g about the cum ulated theory o f an inte lle ctu a l com m unity as i f

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the theory lived apart from that com m unity's experience. B ut it does not. “ T h e O ld Theoretical System" (tra d itio n ) may be a veritable paragon o f d ilig e n t c o n tin u ity and cum ulation, “ objectively" balanced, increasingly whole and comprehensive. B u t we w ill never know , fo r “ T h e O ld Theo­ retical System" is the K antian th in g -in -itse lf, a noumena that no one can speak. T h e theoretical com m unity's inte rpre tatio n o f the O ld System is another m atter; there are those w ho can speak. Invariably, th e ir interpre­ tation has shadings and accents that focus on lim ite d elements w h ile enshadowing others. In practice, then, even a holistic W h o le is never w ith o u t its silences. Indeed, the doctrine o f recovery is a mechanism fo r dealing w ith this. M oreover, the inte lle ctu a l com m unity is always part o f a larger society in w h ich its members play other social roles, w h ich influence and con­ stantly change th e ir interpretations o f the theoretical tra d itio n , creating ever new accentings and new forgettings. T h e doctrine o f recovery also serves this recurrent need. F in a lly, a theoretical system always has lacu­ nae and contradictions w h ich it hides. Its wholeness always proceeds faster than the grounding fo r it. As both Engels and N ietzsche sug­ gested, the “ system" is always a b it o f a noble lie and a false conscious­ ness. Members o f the theoretical com m unity, however, sense this lie ; fo r after all, they are the ones perpetrating it. I t is a fu n ctio n o f the doctrine o f recovery to speak these silences too. There is no way forw ard fo r a theoretical com m unity w ith o u t strivin g toward a systemic wholeness w hich provides its members w ith logistical retrieval o f its past nor w ith o u t a doctrine o f recovery that enables the com m unity to adapt the system to the present and to deal w ith its silences. Several stipulations to be o u tlin e d below may c la rify the general pro­ gram com pactly indicated here, m aking it more concrete and specific. T h e first calls fo r a focus on “ hostile in fo rm a tio n " as central to a critica l theory and as the target o f a doctrine o f recovery. A second, a special case o f the form er, focuses critica l social theory on detecting and c ritic iz in g “ norm alization." A th ird has to do w ith developing critiques o f the ten­ dency to “ cre d it" elite definitions o f social reality. Fourth and fin a lly , a few comments w ill be offered concerning the organizational require­ ments fo r fu lfillin g a program such as this. In particular, I w ill focus on the im plications o f the theorist's group involvem ents—especially his em­ ploym ent and party affiliations—fo r his capacity either fo r wholeness or recovery. i. C entering on H ostile In fo rm a tio n Studies o f the social w orld m ust ( a ) protect the autonom y w ith w hich technical interests are pursued, in h ib itin g censorship o f them on p o litica l

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or other grounds, w h ile also ( b ) insistently c la rify in g the relation be­ tween technical interests and those in the everyday life . N o one is pro­ tected if technical interests are defined as if they had in fact developed autonomously. M a rx was altogether correct about this: elements o f a dis­ to rtin g false consciousness are embedded in suppositions about the au­ tonom y o f the technical; things are m ystified w hen a norm is identified w ith reality. Indeed, it becomes a total mystery w hy private or p u b lic re­ sources should be and are invested in technical interests, i f technical in ­ terests were actually independent o f societal or class interests. It must, therefore, be shown insistently that reports about ‘ w hat is” are never o n ly bits o f technically relevant info rm a tio n b u t are, also, always “ news” relevant to those playing other, non-scholarly roles in the everyday life . I f the com m unity o f theorists is to fu n ctio n w ith re fle xivity, it must help its own members and the larger society develop and sustain consciousness o f the connection between interests, desires, m aterial groundedness or “ social being,” on the one side, and info rm a tio n , reports, studies, and all references to social w orlds, on the other, c la rify in g the m anner in w hich the latte r always constitute “ news” —i.e., has relevance fo r social roles in the everyday life . It m ust be a central p rin cip a l o f any com m unity o f rational theorists that the reception o f “ news” is structured by how it im pinges on people's hopes and aspirations in th e ir everyday roles. T h e reception given th e ir reports about society, then, depends in part on w hether it is “ good news” that is welcome or “ bad news” that is unwelcom e, and, therefore, denied, glossed, or readily forgotten. Reports consonant w ith persons' beliefs about the social w orld, and about the self h o ld in g them , constitute good news that w ill more readily be credited as true and remembered; news dissonant w ith the assumptions o f the everyday life is more lik e ly to be resisted, doubted, ignored, misplaced, or forgotten by those accepting that everyday life . Good news tends to be credited more readily—by those to whom it is good news—than is bad news, because good news is dissonance-reducing. Bad news is credited less readily—by those to whom it is bad news— because it is dissonance-generating. So the actual process o f crediting and discrediting reports about social re a lity never depends e n tirely on their evidence. Indeed, w hat is taken to be “ evidence” depends p a rtly on its character as “ news,” w h ich is to say, on its im plications and relevance fo r the everyday life , and the interests, desires, am bitions, policies, com m it­ ments, and plans o f people in it —in c lu d in g theorists themselves, who, be it remembered, also live in that everyday life . Reports about the social w orld are news when relevant to men's in te n ­ tions in th e ir everyday w orld and this relevance influences its reception.

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Good news w ill be "credited"—i.e., more loosely and in fo rm a lly tested, whatever criterion is employed—before being accepted, than bad news. Bad news w ill not be credited and w ill be more loosely tested before be­ in g rejected, than w ill good news. W h e th e r a report is u ltim a te ly ac­ cepted and acted upon, or filed and forgotten, depends in im po rta n t part, then, on w hether it is good news or bad. (A n d , as I w ill fu rth e r discuss below, it depends also upon w ho thinks it good news or bad.) T h e problem here comes down to the question o f avoiding cu ltu ra l censorship, that is, avoiding systematic silences about or repressions o f re­ ports dissonant w ith some group s policies or am bitions. T h e special task o f the theorists com m unity from this perspective, then, is never sim ply to "te ll the tru th , n o th in g b u t the tru th , and the w hole tru th " but, rather, to consider the wews-value o f its reports, and to attend especially to com­ m unicating and preserving hostile info rm a tio n . T h e task o f the com m u­ n ity o f critica l theorists is to help persons m aintain access to news th e ir society is system atically silent about and w hich members o f some group w ill regard as hostile info rm a tio n . T h e task is to help persons and groups remain critica l even o f good news, to insist th a t even this be doublechecked, and, correspondingly, to help them accept and remember bad news. From this standpoint, then, wholeness is paradoxically pursued by stressing insistently and one-sidedly the repressed and silenced side o f re­ ports. I t is an effort to overcome the lim ita tio n s o f groups and persons through the recovery o f w hat th e ir everyday lives have system atically re­ pressed, distorted, forgotten, or lost. H ostile inform ation, bad news, is not inform ation about the state o f the social w orld per se. I t is, rather, the relation o f reports about the so­ cial w orld to the purposes o f some specific groups that makes a report either good news or hostile info rm a tio n . T h e same inform ation may be both hostile to some groups and frie n d ly to others. Reports c e rtify in g the power and sta b ility o f some governm ent are hostile inform ation to revolu­ tionaries there b u t good news to conservatives. There is, therefore, al­ most no news that is glad tidings fo r a ll groups or persons, fo r a ll times. W h a t is repressed and silenced, and therefore w hat needs accenting, varies w ith each group and its historical position. T o te ll the "w h o le " tru th is not to say the same th in g to everyone in the same way; it is not to repeat the same message at a ll times. T h e "w h o le " tru th cannot be spoken, once fo r all. T o speak the tru th about the social w orld, then, means to understand that knowledge is never a b it o f inform ation in the head, b u t always a com m unication; w hich fu rth e r im plies that to speak the tru th about the social w orld requires that one n o t only know th a t social w orld, but in addition, know the specific publics to w hom it is being com m unicated, and thus the theorist s own position in the w orld

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and his relationship to those publics. A sociological epistemology, then, im plies a theory of com m unication and thus, in part (as Kenneth Burke m ig h t have it ) , a rhetoric as w ell. 2. T h e C ritiq u e of N orm alization I f a special task o f a com m unity o f critica l theorists is to focalize and recover bad news and to question good, the recovery o f one particular kin d o f bad news especially concerns it. I t is generally bad news for persons or groups to discover or believe that forces in the w orld they see as po w e rfu l are also in im ica l toward them —i.e., bad. T h e same is essen­ tia lly the case w hen they discover that social objects or forces they define as good are weak. Both o f these, as previously discussed, are “ unperm itted w orlds” w hich are a very special sort o f bad news and w hich , like others, tends to be silenced or subject to distortions. T h e characteristic distortion w ith w hich persons respond to unperm itted worlds is to “ norm alize” them , i.e., redefining the strong b u t e vil object as either “ actually” weak, or n o t “ really” good, thus reducing the dissonance.4 In h ib itin g the nor­ m alization o f unperm itted worlds is thus a special task o f the com m unity o f critica l theorists. T h is is one o f the most p o w erful and rational in ­ heritances o f M a rxist/H e g e lia n syntagmatics. Indeed it was a m ajor step in the developm ent o f a rational social discourse when the central objects o f M a rxist analysis—“ capitalism ” and “ proletariat” —each allowed fo r a stable dissonance between its power and its goodness, capitalism being po w e rfu l b u t (fo r the most p a rt) bad, the proletariat being weak b u t clearly good, in M arx's analysis. 3. T h e C ritiq u e of Establishm ent-C redited D e fin itio n s o f R eality A n y d e fin itio n o f social re a lity accepted by power centers, elites, and es­ tablishm ents is more lik e ly to be “ credited” —that is, p u b lic ly attended to and offered credence in advance o f c ritica l inspection—than definitions o f social re a lity held by the low ly. I t is thus a special task o f the com­ m u n ity o f critica l theorists to recover not only underprivileged re a lity that is bad news, b u t ( a ) also to rescue from neglect underprivileged sources o f definitions o f social reality, and ( b ) to in h ib it the cre d itin g o f establishment-sponsored definitions o f social reality. W h ic h is to say, it m ust scrutinize closely those definitions o f social reality congenial to the expectation o f power elites and hegemonic classes. Establishm ents and counter-establishments may treat one another's views w ith a sim ilar suspicion and subject them to especially close scru­ tin y , b u t the conclusions that each draws about the other's definitions o f social re a lity do not make th e ir way in to the w orld w ith equal ease. For th e ir d iffe rin g views are n o t credited equally by publics. M ost publics

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w ill more readily accept a dom inant groups definitions o f reality, sub­ je ctin g them to less rigorous testing than they do beliefs o f counter­ establishments. M oreover, establishments exert more influence on the very conditions under w hich th e ir definitions o f social re a lity are appraised. T h e prob­ a b ility o f discrediting a b e lie f is (o th e r things e q u al) a fu n ctio n o f the size o f the resources devoted to the task. Establishm ent groups can com­ m only m obilize more resources to discredit discrepant beliefs than lo w ly groups can acquire to inspect establishm ent views. T h is is part o f the way in w hich dom inant views are com m only proved rig h t and true, w h ile views challenging them are usually underm ined. A gain, the ques­ tion o f how carefully some claim should be investigated is ju st another b e lie f that w ill be resolved as other beliefs are, that is, as a fu n ctio n o f differences in the power, prestige, and resources o f disputants. Estab­ lishm ents in politics (and in science as w e ll) influence the very condi­ tions under w hich th e ir own claims are appraised, arranging the exam ina­ tion to favor th e ir own survival. Establishm ents appoint the juries whose findings w ill determ ine w hether they are to be impeached or retained. Counter-establishm ents, however, com m only have to face juries n o t o f th e ir peers b u t o f th e ir adversaries. I t is common, then, that levels o f c re d ib ility vary w ith the social status o f the speakers, the superior status conferring a “ halo effect” on its occu­ pants' claims. I t follow s from this, then, that upper classes and elites have a better chance than others o f having th e ir definitions o f social re a lity attended to and credited, w hich is how they become and remain hege­ m onic classes. M a rx was correct: the views o f the dom inant tend to become dom inant. Since there is already ample yea-saying about dom ­ in a n t views, it therefore also follow s that the com m unity o f critica l the­ orists has a special responsibility to cast a p a rticu la rly cold eye on d e fin i­ tions o f social re a lity already dom inant and a sim ila rly critica l eye on the processes by w hich counter-establishm ent views are th ru st aside. I t follow s, fu rth e r, that the a b ility o f a com m unity o f critica l theorists to speak tru ly about social worlds depends on the nature o f its social rela­ tionship to, and dependence on, hegemonic groups and dom inant estab­ lishm ents.4 4. T he Social S ituation o f the C om m unity o f Theorists I t w ould seem to fo llo w that there are tw o fundam ental requisites fo r the theorists com m unity to develop a more h o listic view o f society: ( a ) th e ir capacity to achieve some consensus in th e ir inte rna l relations to one another and ( b ) th e ir a b ility to m aintain distance and tension not sim ply w ith “ society-at-large” b u t most especially from its hegemonic

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299

elites. I t is precisely this tw ofold need, fo r internal consensus and exter­ nal tension, that characterizes vanguard p o litica l parties. T h e y m ust have great in te rn a l solidarity to pursue a co n flict against the status quo and escape the gravitational p u ll o f its definitions o f social reality. In te rn a l solidarity o f the vanguard is thus not only a requirem ent o f p o litica l battle but, also, a cognitive requirem ent fo r d e fin in g social reality. A t the same tim e, the p o litica l battle may be so hazardous and so in te n sify anxieties that pressures are generated w hich distort critica l discourse. Theorists associated w ith p o litica l vanguards are under pressure to m ani­ fest th e ir loyalty by g ivin g consent to m erely authoritative definitions o f social reality, i.e., to fo llo w “ the lin e ” in itia te d by th e ir own counter­ elites. U niversities, too, no less than p o litica l vanguards, are also character­ ized by the tw in need fo r in te rn a l solidarity and external fric tio n as a grounding fo r th e ir cognitive ra tio n a lity. U niversities, however, are de­ pendent upon p u b lic or private sources o f support; being vulnerable to th e ir pressures and definitions o f social reality, they are characteristically less combative and more accommodative. T h e y seek to preserve th e ir cognitive ra tio n a lity not by combat and fric tio n w ith establishments b u t by m a in ta in in g distance, by ly in g low rather than rising up. Here, ratio­ n a lity and the a b ility to see the w hole is subverted not by anxieties born o f harsh battle, but by the dependence and tem ptations generated by establishments. H ere cognitive ra tio n a lity is subverted by complacency, by the d r ift toward the m aintenance o f creature com forts, by security derivable from accepting the establishm ent and frie n d ly discourse w ith it, and by immersal in narrow puzzle-solving w hich blocks a view o f larger contexts. I t follow s that neither involvem ent sufficies to sustain theorists' efforts to develop understanding o f the social to ta lity, although iro n ica lly both Party theorists and U n ive rsity academicians agree that each o f th e ir (d iffe re n t) group environm ents already suffices fo r that very purpose. M y own conclusion is to the contrary. I therefore believe that one o f the central tasks o f social theory in our tim e is to attem pt to re th in k the position o f theory’s own group involvem ents and to re-examine the con­ ditions, social and organizational, requisite fo r the developm ent o f an effective com m unity o f theorists com m itted to the understanding o f the social to ta lity .5

Notes

Frequently Cited Titles KM TR CC D ialectic E nter Plato For Sociology F uture TTM C apital CM Gl M EW N a n d M -H

H al Draper, K a rl M a rx ’s T heory of R evolution (N ew York: M onthly Review Press, 1978) A. W . Gouldner, T he C om ing Crisis o f W estern Sociology (N ew York: Basic Books, 1970) A. W . Gouldner, T he D ia le ctic o f Ideology and Technology (N e w York: Seabury, 1976) A. W . Gouldner, E nter Plato (N e w York: Basic Books, 1965) A . W . G ouldner, For Sociology (N e w York: Basic Books, 1973) A . W . G ouldner, T he Future o f In te lle ctu als and the Rise o f the N ew Class (N e w Y ork: Seabury, 1979) A. W . Gouldner, T h e T w o M arxism s (N ew York: Seabury,

1980) Karl Marx, C ap ita l, 3 Vols. (N e w York: International Publishers, 1967) Karl M arx and Frederick Engels, C om m unist M anifesto, author­ ized English edition (Chicago: Charles H . Kerr, 1888) Karl M arx and Frederick Engels, T h e German Ideology (N ew York: International Publishers, n.d.) Karl Marx, Frederick Engels, W erke (In s titu t fu r MarxismusLeninismus beim ZK der SED, Berlin, Dietz, 1956-68) Boris Nicolaievsky and Otto Maenchen-Helfen, K a rl M arx: M an and F ighter (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, i 9 3 b )

1. T he Social O rigins o f M arxism 1. Indeed, as Perry Anderson observes, “ virtually all the major theorists of his­ torical materialism to date, from Marx or Engels themselves to the Bolshe­ viks, from the leading figures of Austro-Marxism to those of Western M arx­ ism, have been intellectuals drawn from the possessing classes: more often than not, of higher rather than lower bourgeois origins. . . . The conven­ tional appellation ‘petty bourgeois intellectual’ is not appropriate for most of the figures discussed above. M any of them came from families of wealthy 301

NOTES

3 °2

7. 8.

manufacturers, merchants, and bankers (Engels, Luxemburg, Baner, Luk£cs, Grossman, Adorno, Benjamin, Marcuse, Sweezy); large landowners (Plekhanov, M ehring, Labriola); senior lawyers or bureaucrats (M arx, L e n in )/' Perry Anderson, C onsiderations on W estern M arxism (London: New L e ft Books, 1976), p. 104. Yvonne Kapp, Eleanor M a rx, 2 Vols., Vol I, F am ily L ife , 1855-1883 (L o n ­ don: Lawrence and W isbart, 1972), p. 109. Ib id ., p. 108. Ib id ., p. 30. Ib id ., pp. 35, 36. Cited in David Gross, “ Introduction to the Luxemburg-Jogiches Correspon­ dence," Telos (F a ll 1978): 157-58. Ib id ., p. 160. Italics by R. L. Rosa Luxemburg, R eform or R evo lutio n ? (N e w York: Three Arrows Press,

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

C M , p. 26. G l, pp. 68-69. Ib id ., p. 39. C M , p. 26. Ib id ., p. 27. M E W , p .454. Ib id ., pp. 468-69. V. I. Lenin, W h a t Is T o Be D one? (N e w York: International Publishers;

2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

i 9 3 7 )>P* 5 -

17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

trans. 1929, original publication 1923), pp. 27, 32-33, 40. Samuel H . Baron, Plekhanov; T he Father o f Russian M arxism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1963), p. 250. The quotation is from Plekhanov himself, cited by Baron. Ib id ., p. 220. Cited by Baron, ib id ., p. 103. Ib id ., p. 183. Norman Geras, “ Louis Althusser—A n Assessment," N ew L e ft Review (January/February 1972): 84 et seq. Goran Therborn, Science, Class, and Society: O n the Form ation o f Sociology and H isto rica l M aterialism (London: New L eft Books, 1976), p. 317. Ib id .

Antonio Carlo, “ Lenin on the Party," Telos (F a ll 1973): 257-58. Cited by Carlo, ib id . Therborn, Science, Class, and Society, p. 325. George A. K elly, Idealism , P olitics, and H isto ry: Sources o f H egelian T h o u g h t (Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1969), p. 268.

2. M arxism as P olitics o f the N e w Class 1. Goran Therborn, “ The W orking Class and the B irth of M arxism ," N e w L e ft R eview (M ay/June 1973): 7. 2. See my D ialectic and F uture. See also my “ Prologue to a Theory of Revolu­ tionary Intellectuals," Telos (W in te r 1975-76).

3. I t is precisely this dilemma that was posed most acutely for M arx and Engels by M ax Stirner's T h e Ego and Its O w n, and why they wrote—“ Saint M ax"—a vitrio lic reply of 320 pages, two-thirds the fu ll text of D ie deutsche

NOTES

3 °3

Ideologic. For a good introduction to this problem, see John C arroll’s Break­ o ut from the C rystal Palace (London and Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974), and Nicholas Lobkowicz’s master work, T heory and Practice

4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

(N otre Dame, Ind.: U niversity of Notre Dame Press, 1967), especially pp. 390 et seq. C M , p. 41. V. I. Lenin, C ollected W orks, Vol. 27, 4th ed. (Moscow: International Pub­ lishers, 1960-70), p. 310. Ib id ., Vol. 29, p. 70. Ib id ., Vol. 25, p. 105. Italics by A. W . G. Ib id ., Vol. 27, p. 240. Ib id ., Vol. 26, p. 110. Ib id ., Vol. 41, p. 258. Ib id ., Vol. 27, pp. 268 et seq. Ib id ., Vol. 31, p. 420, and Vol. 27, p. 257.

13. Carmen C laudin-U rondo, L e n in and the C u ltu ra l R evolution (A tla n tic H ighlands, N . J.: H um anities Press, 1977). 14. Lenin, C ollected W orks, Vol. 33, p. 194. 15. Ib id ., Vol. 28, p. 381. Dec. 25, 1918. 16. Ib id ., Vol. 29, p. 448. 17. Ib id ., Vol. 27, p. 248. 18. Ib id ., Vol. 32, p. 144. 19. Merle Fainsod, H o w Russia Is R uled (Cambridge: Harvard University

Press, 1965), p. 231. 20. Ib id ., pp. 225-26. 21. C f. Leonard Shapiro, T h e C om m unist Party o f the Soviet U n io n (N e w York: Random House, 1970), p. 435, and Nicholas D e W itt, Education and Professional Em ploym ent in the USSR (W ashington, D. C .: U.S. Govern­ ment P rinting Office, 1961), p. 537. 22. For the detailed argument, see my Future. 23. Thomas Cottle, “ Show Me a Scientist W ho’s Helped Poor Folk, and I ’ll Kiss Her Hand,” Social P olicy (M a rc h /A p ril 1974): 35-37.

3. Popular M aterialism and H isto rica l O rigin s o f M arxism 1. See his letter to Bolte, Nov. 23, 1871, Selected Correspondence, 1846-1895, trans. Dona T orr (N e w York: International Publishers, 1942), p. 317. In the preface to his Poverty o f Philosophy, M arx also refers to himself as a “ German economist.” 2. One reason being that he him self had been subjected to the anti-Sem itic v itrio l of his onetime frien d, Proudhon, who listed him , along w ith other “ Jews,” as “ evil, irrascible, envious, bitter, etc.” Leon Poliakov, T he H isto ry o f A nti-S em itism , V ol. I l l , From V o lta ire to W agner (L o n d o n : Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), p. 379. H is onetime collaborator, A rn o ld Ruge, also denounced him as a “ skunk and shameless Jew.” 3. Yvonne Kapp, Eleanor M a rx, 2 Vols., Vol II, T h e Crowded Years (London:

Lawrence and W ishart, 1976), p. 260. 4. The follow ing account of conditions in Germany leading to the revolution of 1848 was gleaned from various sources but is heavily reliant on Theodore S. Hamerow, Restoration, R evolution, Reaction: Economics and P olitics in Ger-

NO TES

3 °4

m any, 1815-1871 (Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1958), for most

of the statistical data and qualitative materials cited in this section, although sometimes centering my interpretation somewhat differently. Karl Marx's own T h e Class Struggles in France 1848-1850 (in Selected W o rks in Three Volum es (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1969-70)), as his E ighteenth B rum aire o f Louis Bonaparte (various editions) may s till be consulted w ith profit. So, too, may L. B. Namier, 1848: T h e R evolution o f the In te lle ctu a ls (London: Oxford University Press, 1944); Priscilla Robertson, R evolutions o f 1848: A Social H isto ry (Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1952); J. H . Calpton, T h e Econom ic D evelopm ent o f France and G erm any, 18151914 (Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1936); Georges Duveau, 1848: T h e M a kin g o f a R evolution (N e w York: Random House, 1965); Agatha Ramm, Germ any, 1789-1919 (London: Methuen, 1967); P. H . Noyes, O rganization and R evolution: W orking-C lass Associations in the Germ an R evolutions o f 1848-49 (Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1966); Golo M ann, T h e H isto ry o f G erm any Since 1789 (London: Chatto and W indus, 1968); Ernest K. Bromstead, Aristocracy and the M id d le Classes in G erm any (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1964); and Frederick B. Artz, Reaction and R evolution, 1814-1832 (N e w York: Harper, 1 9 3 4 )-

5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

Cited from a contemporary account by Hamerow, p. 163. Ib id ., p. 176. Ib id ., pp. 211-12. Ib id ., p. 179. Italics by A. W . G. Ib id ., p. 249. Ib id ., p. 87. Lorenz von Stein, T h e H isto ry o f the Social M ovem ent in France, 17891850 (Totowa, N . J.: Bedminster Press, 1964), p. 11 of introduction by Kaethe Mengelberg. Ib id ., p. 12. Ib id ., p. 13. Ib id ., p. 14. Ib id ., p. 27. T his is basically a discussion of the deep structure of the grammar of ma­ terialist discourse. Its basic rules, unlike those governing the CCD , hold certain things unproblematic and non-discussable. A materialist grammar of discourse has a principle of censorship: interest. See Chapter 2, pp. 30-33, and my F uture, for the CCD. K. M arx, W age-Labour and C apital (N e w York: International Publishers, i 9 3 3 )> P- 3 K. M arx, V alue, Price and P ro fit, ed. Eleanor M arx Aveling (N e w York: International Publishers, 1933), p. 61. Loyd D. Easton and K u rt H . Guddat, eds. and trans., W ritin g s o f the Young M a rx on Philosophy and Society (Garden C ity, N . Y.: Doubleday, 1967). Tom Bottomore, ed., K a rl M a rx, E arly W ritin g s (N e w York: M cG raw -H ill, 1963)* P- 164. Ib id ., p. 63.

NOTES

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4. T h e B inary Fission o f Popular M aterialism 1. M y colleague, Steven S. Schwarzschild, observes that “ when Marx comes to give the term 'relation' ( ‘V erhaeltnis’') his new, M arxist meaning, it is no longer prim arily an epistemological Hegelian notion but an ethical one, con­ nected w ith 'verhalten / 'to behave . . . toward others/ ’’ citing A lbert Massiczek, D er m enschliche M ensch—K a rl M a rx judischer H um anism us (V ienna: Europa Verlag, 1968), p. 87. 2. Tom Bottomore, ed., K a rl M a rx, E a rly W ritin g s (N e w York: M cG raw -H ill, 1963)* P- 1913. Steven S. Schwarzschild has noted that “ at the time w ith which we are concerned, the popular m ind in France, for an example, sang an old song, 'L ’argent est un dieu sur terre/ ’’ i.e., “ money is a god on earth." See Steven S. Schwarzschild, “ Karl M arx’s Jewish Theory of Usury," in Gesher (N e w York: Yeshiva University, 1978), p. 30. 4. Bottomore, K a rl M a rx, p. 193. 5. Ib id . 6. Ib id ., p. 34. 7. Ib id ., p. 40. 8. Ib id ., p. 34. 9. Ib id ., p. 35. 10. Ib id ., p. 38. 11. Ib id ., p. 39. 12. Saul Padover, “ T h e Baptism o f K arl M a rx ’s F am ily," M idstream (J u n e / J u ly 1978): 4313. Leon Poliakov, T h e H isto ry o f A nti-S em itism , V ol. I l l , From V o lta ire to W agner (L o n d o n : Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1975), p. 393. 14. Ib id ., p. 396. 15. See Julius Carlebach, K a rl M a rx and the R adical C ritiq u e o f Judaism (L o n ­

16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

don: Roudedge and Kegan Paul, 1978), p. 36, certainly one of the most learned studies of this complex issue. Poliakov, A nti-S em itism , p. 380. Marx, C apital, Vol. I, p. 131. Ib id ., p .3 3 6 . Ib id ., p. 132. Ib id . Ib id . Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id .,

p. 137. pp. 138-39. p. 140. p. 141. Max Weber, G eneral Econom ic H isto ry (N ew York: Greenberg, 1927), pp. 175-76. 27. Marx, C apital, Vol. I ll, Bk. I, p. 207. 28. There are also other rules: for instance, that any alteration in a product be­ longs to the buyer of labor power, and that the buyer alone determines the product he wishes to produce, and how. Capitalism, as wage labor, is de­ fined by this structure of rules, some explicit and some tacit, and by a system of sanctioning conformity and deviance from them.

NOTES

29. O u r ow n critique thus converges here w ith Jean B audrillard, T h e M irro r o f Production (S t. Louis: Telos Press, 1975). 30. M a rx and Engels, Selected W orks in T hree Volum es (M oscow : Progress Publishers, 1969-70), V ol. II, p. 206.

5. A rtisans and In te lle ctu als: Socialism and the R evolution o f 1848

1. P. H . Noyes, O rganization and R evolution: W orking-C lass Associations in the German R evolution o f 1848-1849 (Princeton: Princeton U niversity Press, 1966), p. 4. 2. For an earlier form ulation of parts of this perspective, am plifying certain problems, see A. W . Gouldner, “ Reciprocity and Autonomy in Functional Theory,” in L. Z. Gross, ed., Symposium on Sociological T he o ry (Evanston, 111.: Row, Peterson, and Co., 1959), pp. 241-70. For a wider and more recent form ulation, see Chapter 1 of T T M . 3. N and M -H , p. 76. C f. the discussion of these societies in Eric J. Hobsbawm, P rim itive Rebels (N e w York: Praeger, 1963), pp. 126-74. 4. N and M -H , p. 76. 5. Ib id ., p. 77. 6. Frederich Hertz, T h e Germ an P u b lic M in d in the N ine te en th C e n tu ry (Totowa, N .J .: Rowman and L ittlefield, 1975), p. 213. 7. N and M -H , p. 108. 8. Noyes, O rganization and R evolution, p. 275. 9. Cited in Saul K. Padover, K a rl M a rx : A n In tim a te Biography (N e w York: M cG raw -H ill, 1978), p. 218. 10. N and M -H , p. 113. 11. Quoted in ib id ., p. 114. 12. Hertz, Germ an P u b lic M in d , p. 264. 13. Robert Payne, M a rx (N e w York: Simon & Schuster, 1968), p. 124. 14. W eitling, G uaranties o f H arm ony and Freedom, 1842. 15. Cited in Padover, K a rl M a rx, p. 173. 16. N and M -H , p. 76. 17. Ib id ., p. 77. 18. Ib id ., p. 80. 19. Ib id ., p. 118. 20. See also P. V. Annenkov, T h e E xtraordinary Decade : L ite ra ry M em oirs, ed. A. P. Mendel and trans. I. R. T itu n ik (A n n Arbor: University of M ichigan Press, 1968). N and M -H claim that “ th irty years later Annenkov could still call up a vivid picture of what the young M arx was like . . . in Brussels in 1846” (p. 118) but the issue is not raised whether that th irtyyear interval m ight have diminished the accuracy of Annenkov’s account, if not d ulling its “ vividness.” 21. O f the many accounts which mention W e itlin g ’s stylish appearance, not one considers whether, being a tailor himself, he may not have made his own coat. 22. F uture, p. 28. See Thesis Six, “ The New Class as a Speech Com m unity,” pp. 28-43, for fu lle r discussion. * 3 - M uch is made by M arx’s adherents of W e itlin g ’s fum bling reply, as if this proved its incorrectness. Yet since the time of Solomon Asch’s small group

NOTES

24. 25. 26. 27.

28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

3° 7

experiments, we have known that an isolated group member, faced w ith the unanimous opposition of others, w ill exhibit considerable distress. In short, W e itlin g ’s confusion was evidence not of his intellectual inadequacy but of the effectiveness of the ceremony of status degradation M arx’s group had staged. Cited in Padover, K a rl M a rx, p. 233. N and M -H , p. 121. Hobsbawm, P rim itive Rebels, p. 171, footnote. Rudolph Stadelmann, Social and P o litica l H isto ry o f the German 1848 R evolution, trans. J. G. Chastain (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1970), p. 5. Theodore S. Hamerow, “ The German Artisan Movement, 1848-49,” Journal o f C entral European A ffa irs 21, no. 2 (July 1961): 136. In Prussia in 1846, “ this . . . was an expanding group, having increased in size by some 87 per cent since 1816. . . . This growth in size runs counter to the general picture of decline; indeed, the declining position of the arti­ sans was partly a result of their increased numbers.” Noyes, O rganization and R evolution, pp. 23-24. Ib id ., p. 25. Ib id ., p. 44. Stadelmann, German 1848 R evolution, p. 42, and Barrington Moore, Jr., In ju stice : T h e Social Bases o f Obedience and R evolt (London: Macmillan, 1978), p .15 5 . Hamerow, “ German Artisan Movement,” p. 146. Ib id ., p. 138. Ib id ., p. 139. Ib id ., p. 135. Peter N . Stearns, 1848: T h e R evolutionary T id e in Europe (N e w York: W . W . Norton, 1974), p. 20. Theodore S. Hamerow, Restoration, R evolution, Reaction: Economics and P olitics in Germ any, 1815-1871 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1958), p. 102. Ib id ., pp. 18, 36, 79. C f. Noyes, O rganization and R evolution, p. 3. Stearns, 1848, p. 26. V eit Valentin, Geschichte der deutschen R evolution 1848-49 (B erlin, 1930-3O, Vol. II, p. 557. Lenore O’Boyle, “ The Democratic Left in Germany, 1848,” Journal o f M odern H isto ry 33, no. 4 (December 1961): 375. Quoted in ib id ., p. 377.

44. 45. Ib id . 46. See Priscilla Robertson, R evolutions o f 1848: A Social H isto ry (N e w York: Harper Torchbook, i960; originally published by Princeton University Press, 1952), p. 49. 47. For these statistics, see Konrad H . Jarausch, “ The Sources of Student Unrest, 1815-1848,” in Lawrence Stone, ed., T h e U n ive rsity in Society (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974), Vol. II, p. 5 5 7 48. Lenore O’Boyle, “ The Problem of an Excess of Educated Men in Western Europe, 1800-1850,” Journal o f M odern H isto ry, 42, no. 4 (December 1970).

3 °8

NOTES

49. Jarausch, “ Student Unrest,” p. 552. 50. O’Boyle, “ Problem,” p. 473. O’Boyle also notes Reinhart Koselleck, Preussen zwischen R eform und R evolution (Stuttgart, 1967), who also “ presents ex­ tensive evidence in support of the view that the pressure by educated men for state jobs in Prussia was im portant.” On this see Kosselleck, pp. 438-47. 51. Jarausch, “ Student Unrest,” pp. 535-36. 52. Lenore O ’Boyle, “ The Image of the Journalist in France, Germany, and England, 1815-1848,” C om parative Studies in Society and H isto ry 10, no. 3 (A p ril 1968): 290-317. 53. Ib id ., p. 300. 54. The Q u arte rly Review is cited in ib id ., p. 301. 55. Cited in ib id ., p. 306. 56. James J. Sheehan, “ Liberalism in Germany,” T h e Journal o f M odern H is to ry 45, no. 4 (December 1973): 590. 57. Ib id ., p. 587-88. 58. Hamerow, “ German Artisan Movement,” p. 141. 59. W illia m H . Sewall, Jr., W o rk and R evolution in France: T h e Language o f Labour from the O ld Regime to 1848 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), pp. 13, 21, 22, 25. 60. Fritz K. Ringer, “ Higher Education in Germany in the Nineteenth Cen­ tury,” Journal o f C ontem porary H isto ry 12, no. 3 (1 9 6 7 ): 123. 61. K M T R , p. 549. 62. Ib id ., p. 546. Bracketed insert by A. W . G. 63. Frank Parkin, M arxism and Class T heory: A Bourgeois C ritiq u e (N ew York: Columbia U niversity Press, 1979), p. 44. 64. Ib id ., p. 45. 65. As Robert K. M erton has noted. 66. N and M -H , p. 75. 67. Speaking of a later period, Draper is essentially correct in holding that “ the advocacy of exclusionism came from that national current in the Interna­ tional which most systematically represented the . . . artisan stratum” ( K M T R , p. 655). Some Marxists such as Draper apparently find W e itlin g ’s artisan origins a source of comfort; for these allow them to deny that M arx’s attack on him was an attack on a “ hapless worker,” or on a “ true proletarian” (ib id .'). W e itling is then portrayed as the representative of a dying “ petty bourgeois” class of artisans rather than, as M arx is alleged to be, a true repre­ sentative of the proletariat, a class w ith an historical future. The premise here is, apparently, that only those who have a future are deserving of con­ cern or civil treatment, from which it would seem to follow that the aged and term inally ill are to be turned out onto the streets. I concur entirely that W e itlin g and his League of the Just were not “ proletarians,” but then, of course, neither were M arx and Engels. 68. M arx and Engels, Selected Correspondence, 1846-1895, trans. Dona Torr (N e w York: International Publishers, 1942), p. 87. 69. Ib id ., p. 123. 70. Payne, M arx, pp. 534, 537. 71. Hence sections consisting prim arily of students were excluded from mem­ bership in the I. W . A., even though there was a rule declaring that “ every­ body who acknowledges and defends the principles of the I. W . A. is e li­ gible to become a member.” K M T R , pp. 562-63.

NOTES

309

72. Ib id ., p. 548. Draper is highly selective about whose anti-Semitism he con­ demns. He vigorously defends M arx’s anti-Semitism, on the grounds that everyone else was then anti-Semitic, but he condemns the same antiSemitism when voiced by M arx’s enemies—especially if directed against Marx. 73. M E W , Vol. 19, p. 371. 74. Engels to Laura and Paul Lafargue, in Frederick Engels, Paul and Laura Lafargue, Correspondence (Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1959), Vol. II, pp. 407 et seq. 75. M E W , Vol. 22, pp. 69 et seq. 76. This section as others in the present chapter relies heavily on and is greatly indebted to N and M -H ’s work, which remains the best political biography of M arx despite their adulation of their subject and despite the scholarship that has accumulated in the half-century since they wrote. One of the best compendiums of the new researches is the work in progress by H al Draper against which one should constantly check and compare the earlier work of N and M -H . As w ill be seen, however, my net conclusion w ill be that Draper’s work is tendentious and deeply flawed by its polemical animus and, im portantly, by his failure to maintain chronological clarity, in contrast to the strong narrative line in N and M -H . Nonetheless, wherever Draper has a relevant objection to their work, I shall discuss it in detail. 77. N and M -H , p. 156. 78. Ib id ., p. 160. 79. Ib id ., p. 161. 80. Ib id ., p. 162. 81. Stearns, 1848, p. 183. 82. N and M -H , p. 163. 83. Ib id ., p. 166. 84. Ib id ., p. 168. Draper is quite incensed w ith N and M -H ’s account of these events. He denounces them, in particular, for stating that “ during the first months it [the N etie Rheinische Z e itu n g ] avoided anything that m ight pos­ sibly disturb the united front. N ot a word was spoken of the antagonism be­ tween proletarian and non-proletarian, bourgeois or petty bourgeois democ­ racy.” Draper quotes this from N and M -H , p. 167, in K M T R , p. 214, footnote, adding that “ not a word of this statement is true.” Yet Draper om its the very next line, in N and M -H , which suggests that they were referring to the N eue R heinische Z e itu n g s treatment of the German scene and Germ an working classes. T heir very next line reads: “ There was not a word about the special interests of the working classes, of the workers’ spe­ cial tasks in the Germ an Revolution” (N and M -H , p. 67, italics added by A. W . G .). Set in context of that last sentence, the reference seems to be about M arx’s coverage of the German revolution, not about the Neue Rheinische Z e itu n g ’s coverage in general. It is thus irrelevant to note, as Draper then does, that Marx immediately gave support to the Paris rising, and lauded the working classes there. Indeed, N and M -H themselves re­ fer twice to that rising and clearly state the N eue Rheinische Z eitung sup­ ported it vigorously: “ Strenuously as M arx avoided anything that m ight have weakened the jo in t Democratic forces in Germany, he sided just as resolutely w ith the insurrectionary Paris workers in those days of June” (ib id ., p. 168); “ . . . articles about the June fighting cost M arx the other half” of his

3 io

NOTES

shareholders (ib id ., p. 172). Draper, moreover, acknowledges the correct­ ness of Engel’s form ulation that the N eue Rheinische Z e itu n g ’s was essen­ tia lly a coalition policy calling for “ democracy” and did not inscribe its proletarian character on its banner ( K M T R , p. 214). Draper acknowledges also that “ N o doubt M arx would have preferred to take it easy at the begin­ ning on controversial questions.” Finally, Draper himself says that the N eue Rheinische Z eitu n g did not present “ itself as the organ of a workers’ move­ ment, let alone a workers’ organization . . . it agitated for the revolution of the Democracy. It did not agitate for communism (or socialism) in Ger­ many but explained, as in connection w ith the June uprising, that it did not believe that communism was as yet on the order of the day for Germany” (ib id ., pp. 218-19), a position altogether compatible w ith my interpretation that N and M -H had meant their disputed remark to apply prim arily only to the N eue Rheinische Z e itu n g ’s treatment of the revolution in Germany. Draper’s tendentious account has the unfortunate effect of concealing the internal contradictions, tensions, and difficulties in M arx’s position, which the latter’s own later self-critique, in the March letter of the League’s central office, acknowledges when he himself condemns his own earlier discussion of the Communist League. Like other devout Marxists, Draper is bent on seeing M arx’s policy as much more smoothly integrated and internally harmonious that it was; N and M -H , while very sympathetic to M arx, simply refuse to paper over the tensions and ambivalences of M arx’s policies, and sometimes state plainly that he actually made a mistake! For another account of the Neue Rheinische Z eitu n g policies, see Peter Stearns, who largely agrees w ith the views of N and M -H , holding that the paper’s early success “ re­ sulted in large part from M arx’s careful concentration on the political issues, particularly during his first weeks as editor” (Stearns, 1848, p. 182). 85. N and M -H , p. 173. This, of course, was replayed and repaid some years later, during the Russian October Revolution, when the German high com­ mand sent funds to support Bolshevik propaganda. 86. Ib id ., p. 175. 87. Ib id . 88. Ib id ., p. 176. The distorted character of Draper’s account may also be seen from the fact that he fails to mention that this offer came only after Gottschalk, M oll, and Schapper were being persecuted by the police. Draper, instead, presents it as if it simply exhibited M arx’s growing influence over the workers. Thus he writes: “ M arx’s influence on the Workers Associa­ tion . . . grew . . . despite the bitter opposition of the Gottschalk clique; later in the year M arx was even elected president of the Workers Associa­ tion” (K M T R , p. 214); but not a word that this happened only a fte r the other leaders were jailed or fleeing the police. 89. N and M -H , p. 182. 90. Ib id ., p. 186. 91. Quoted in ib id ., p. 187. 92. Ib id . This situation also is replayed during the course of the Russian Revo­ lution and the Bolshevik position is in part an adaptation to it. 93. Ib id ., p. 187. Indeed, as late as 1850, M arx was still asserting that “ the real revolutionary movement can begin in England only when the Charter has been realized, just as in France the June battle became possible only when the republic had been won.” Quoted in K M T R p. 282.

NOTES

94. 95. 96. 97. 98.

99. 100. 101.

102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108.

109. 110. h i. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119.

120. 121. 122.

311

N and M -H , p. 187. Quoted in ib id . Ib id ., p. 189. Ib id ., p. 196. A ll quotations from the Address of the Central Committee are from the translation in Saul K. Padover, O n R evolution, K a rl M a rx (N ew York: M cG raw -H ill, 1971). Noyes, O rganization and R evolution, p. 366. K M T R , p. 599. The question then arises, why did the new society receive the support of “ two Frenchmen of the Blanquist tendency” (ib id ., p. 254) if as Draper also contends “ M arx’s 1850 vision had noth ing in common w ith the Blan­ quist type putsch” (ib id ., p. 244; italics added by A. W . G .). N and M -H , p. 209. G l, p. 24. C M , p. 16. Ib id ., p. 31. N and M -H , p. 210. Cited in K M T R , p. 209. Italics added by A. W . G. Saul K. Padover, K a rl M a rx, p. 385. It is Padover’s judgment that “ Marx and his uncle were not far apart in their views on the desirability of moderate politics. To M arx the achievement of power by the world proletariat was the final consummation of the historic process. But there was no specific time­ table. N or was there any special reason, theoretical or actual, for hurrying the pace through dramatic policies or rash actions.” The letter from Lion Philips quoted above is to M arx on Dec. 5, 1864. Although careful to keep his distance from Philips, before his revolutionary comrades, M arx main­ tained a long relationship w ith him and his fam ily, went to considerable lengths to send him his writings, and had Ferdinand Lasalle w rite letters that could be used to impress the banker. Indeed M arx was smitten by Philips’s beautiful daughter Antoinette, whom he wooed in a literary way. N and M -H , p. 214. Ib id ., p. 216. K M T R , p. 78. Quoted in ib id ., p. 605. Quoted in ib id ., p. 243. Quoted in ib id ., p. 245. Quoted in ib id . Ib id ., pp. 254-55, footnote. Quoted in ib id ., p. 605. N and M -H , p. 217. K M T R , p. 250. C f. N and M -H , p. 211: “ In June M arx . . . made an intense study of the past decade, and the economic history of England in particular. . . . The more M arx mastered his material, the more plainly did he see the vanity of his [revolutionary] hopes. Europe was not on the verge of a crisis but on the threshold of a new era of prosperity.” M arx, T h e Class Struggles in France, quoted in K M T R , p. 250. This analysis is developed more fu lly in my T T M , throughout Chapter 5 and especially pp. 145 et seq. For the vacillations and ambivalences, see my discussion in ib id .

NOTES

312

6. M a rx ’s F ina l B attle: B akunin and the F irst In te rn a tio n a l 1. C f. N and M -H : “ In the long years of exile, M arx had consistently declined

2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10.

11.

to associate himself w ith any sort of political organization” (p . 261). Again, “ B itter experience . . . had convinced him that it was necessary to keep aloof from all intermediary groups, especially organizations of exiles” (p . 267). Ib id ., p. 33. M arx and Engels, Selected Correspondence, 1846-1895, trans. Dona T o rr (N e w York: International Publishers, 1942), p. 277. Italics in original. Saul K. Padover, K a rl M a rx: A n In tim a te Biography (N ew York: McGrawH ill, 1978), p. 380. Paul Thomas, K a rl M a rx and the Anarchists (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1980), p. 255. Barrington Moore, Jr., Social O rigins o f D ictatorship and Democracy: L ord and Peasant in the M a kin g o f the M odern W o rld (Boston: Beacon Press, 1966), p. 505. The fu ll quotation is as follows: “ . . . the chief social basis of radicalism has been the peasants and the smaller artisans in the towns. From these facts one may conclude that the wellsprings of human freedom lie not only where M arx saw them, in the aspirations of classes about to take power, but perhaps even more in the dying w ail of a class over whom the wave of progress is about to roll. Industrialism as it continues to spread, may in some distant future still those voices forever and make revolutionary radi­ calism as anachronistic as cuneiform w ritin g .” Several demurrers: ( 1 ) The radicalism of artisans in large towns such as Paris and London during the first half and middle of the nineteenth century was quite as deep as that of artisans in the small towns to which Moore here lim its the matter. (2 ) Moore’s account of the radicalism of the artisans is cryptic and incipiently economistic, leaning prim arily on the technological supercession of the smaller artisans. (3 ) One has reason to be uneasy w ith such a lim ited account not because of what it says but because of what it omits. Specifically, it ignores the role of radical professionals (e.g., doctors such as Gottschalk, Che Guevara, and George Habbash) in modernizing countries, as w ell as of radical journalists and of intellectuals more broadly. Are such professionals and intellectuals so very different from artisans, especially in the nineteenth century? (4 ) Moreover, intellectuals would not seem to be a dying class “ over whom the wave of progress is about to ro ll.” And w hile intellectuals and professionals may, like artisans, he radicalized when encountering economic deprivations, they are surely not radicalized for these reasons alone. K M T R , p. 558. Ib id ., pp. 562-63. M E W , Vol. 21, pp. 39 et seq. John Clark, “ Marx, Bakunin and the Problem of Social Transform ation,” Telos (W in te r 1979-80): 80. Thomas, K a rl M a rx, p. 252. Thomas’s conception of M arx’s authoritarianism is that it was simply a response to Bakunin’s provocation, a kind of selffu lfillin g prophecy in which each made the other what he feared most, thereby confirming his own worst suspicions. Thomas thus writes, “ each protagonist acted out the other’s nightmare” (p. 253). The difficulty w ith this would seem plain; M arx’s “ authoritarianism” was hardly manifested for

NOTES

12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

313

the first time in his duel w ith Bakunin, and hence cannot be explained as due simply to Bakunin’s provocation of Marx, The latter’s assault on W eitling and his follow ing made that plain enough. A t the same time, however, I do not believe that M arx’s authoritarianism is simply a trait of character that M arx lugged around unchanged, like a walking stick under his arm, beating stray enemies w ith it whenever they came w ith in reach. As I stated earlier, Annenkov and M arx’s associates on the N eue Rheinische Z eitung lauded his dictatorial manner. Thus it was not simply M arx’s enemies, or the nature of his character structure, but the admiration and im plicit invita­ tion of his admirers, that also reinforced Marx's authoritarianism. A “ dicta­ tor” is not simply fashioned by his foes, but is also groomed by his friends. The failure to grapple w ith such obvious considerations produces a one­ sidedness in Thomas’s work uncomfortably close to apologetics. Ib id ., p. 297. N and M -H , pp. 307-8. Ibid., p. 304. M arx and Engels, Selected Correspondence, p. 317. N and M -H , p. 289. Quoted in E. H . Carr, M ich a e l B akunin (N e w York: Vintage, 1961),

P- 38518. Sam Dolgoff, ed., B akunin on A narchy (N e w York: Vintage, 1971), p. 25. 19. Eric J. Hobsbawm, R evolutionaries (London: W eidenfeld and Nicolson, i 9 7 3 )> P- 87. 20. Cited in Dolgoff, B akunin, p. 26. 21. G. P. M axim off, ed., T h e P o litic a l Philosophy o f B akunin: S cientific A narchism (N e w York: Free Press, 1953), p. 73. 22. Ib id ., p. 332. 23. Ib id ., p. 74. 24. I must thus reluctantly disagree w ith Eric Hobsbawm’s dismissive conclusion that “ anarchism has no significant contribution to socialist theory to make” (p. 87). 25. The lin k between Bakunin and the Frankfurt School is thus much more direct and intimate than that between it and Marx, whatever that school’s self-understanding. 26. Clark, “ M arx,” p. 93. 27. M axim off, P o litic a l Philosophy, p. 249. 28. Ib id ., p. 358. 29. From “A fte r the Revolution: M arx Debates Bakunin,” in Robert C. Tucker, ed., T h e M arx-E ngels Reader (N e w York: W . W . Norton, 1978), p. 544. 30. Ib id . 31. Ib id . 32. Ib id ., pp. 546-48. 33. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 284. 34. Ib id ., p. 286. 35. Ib id ., p. 288. 36. A rth u r Lehning, ed., Selected W ritin g s o f M ich a e l B akunin (London: Cape, 1973), p. 266. 37. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 328. 38. Ib id ., p. 355.

NO TES

3M 39. 40. 41. 42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63.

64. 65.

Ib id ., p. 77. Ib id ., p. 78. Ib id ., p. 329.

John Anthony Scott, T h e Defense o f Gracchus Babeuf Before the H ig h C o u rt o f Vendom (Am herst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1967), pp. 91, 92. Ib id ., p. 55. Ib id ., p. 1o. Ib id ., p. 56. Ib id ., e.g., pp. 60 et seq. Ib id ., pp. 56, 57. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 374. N and M -H , p. 281. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 169. Frankfurt’s convergent theory of domination entailed the use of a similar ontology of human nature—the Freudian. Ib id ., p. 64. Ib id . Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id .,

p. 67. p. 148. C f. p. 103. p. 155. p. 93. p. 96. p. 97. p. 159. p. 164. p. 323. p. 320. p. 155. Bakunin specifies the requisites of a moral society more fu lly to include birth under hygenic conditions, a rational and integral education inculcating respect for work, reason, equality, and liberty, and a social en­ vironment in which persons under fu ll liberty w ill be as fu lly equal in fact as in principle or law. For this discussion see Karl M arx, C ritiq u e o f the Gotha Program (N e w York: International Publishers, 1938), esp. pp. 9 et seq. In point of fact, and although M arx and Engels were emphatic in contrast ing their own scientific socialism to that of the “ Utopians,” precisely by their emphasis on its industrial requisites, it is frequently unclear whether these requisites for (a ) a social revolution that could seize power from the domi­ nant class, or for (b ) a revolution that could serve as the instrument of a transformation toward socialism—that is, a socialist revolution—or (c ) whether these industrial requisites were needed only for the fu ll and fin a l achievement of a m ature socialism, but which m ight not be requisite for a social revolution that only began to work toward a socialist society. The ambiguities were rife and emerged fu lly during the conflict over “ socialism in one country” in the USSR. For development, see T T M , especially Chap­ ter 8, “ ‘Economic Determinisms’ in Marxism.” Thomas, K a rl M a rx, pp. 290-92. M aximoff, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 375.

66. 67. 68. Ib id .

NOTES

69. 70. 71. 72. 73.

74. 75. 76. 77. 78.

315

Ib id ., p. 378. Ib id . Ib id ., p. 401. Ib id ., p. 204. C M . In the M anifesto, M arx places both artisan and peasant together w ith

small merchants and manufacturers, in a middle class who “ are, therefore not revolutionary, but conservative. Nay more, they are reactionary, for they try to ro ll back the wheel of history" (pp. 26-27). Most of the contemporary research on the politics of artisans during M arx’s own lifetim e and during, for example, the revolutions of 1848 sharply repudiates M arx’s judgment on them, and most of the major revolutions of even the twentieth century have relied as much, indeed, far more on the peasantry than on the proletariat. It is Bakunin’s carefully formulated judgment on the peasants’ revolutionary potential, rather than M arx’s runaway rhetoric, that has been substantiated. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 401. Ib id ., p. 394. C M , pp. 16, 19. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 194. Ib id ., p. 196. Although lauding the bourgeoisie’s vast transformation of pro­ ductivity, M arx would not have disagreed w ith this. H is theory of “ increas­ ing misery’’ claimed that as wealth accumulated at one pole, misery and poverty accumulated at the other among the workers, while the application of science to industry only increased the reserve army of the unemployed. The main difference, then, was not so much w ith respect to the implications that technical progress had in the present, but (1 ) rather in M arx’s emphasis on the fu tu re that technical progress permitted. It provided, he held, the foundation for socialism in which the benefits of technical advance would then be enjoyed by the masses, and ( 2 ) that Bakunin placed far less stress than had M arx on the importance of economic development. Ib id ., p. 204. Tucker, M arx-E ngels Reader, pp. 543-44. M axim off, P o litica l Philosophy, p. 198. Ib id ., p .3 0 1 . Ib id ., p. 370. Ib id ., p. 372. Ib id ., p. 369. Italics added by A. W . G. Ib id ., p. 300. Ib id ., p. 409. Ib id ., p. 380.

79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. Ib id . 90. N and M -H , p. 347. 91. Cited in Raymond Postgate, T h e W orkers ’ In te rn a tio n a l (London: Swarthmore Press, 1926), p. 48. 92. Eric J. Hobsbawm, P rim itiv e Rebels (N e w York: Praeger, 1963), pp. 81-82. 93. Ib id ., p. 82.7

7. M a rx vs. B a ku nin : Paradoxes o f Socialist P olitics 1. N and M -H , p. 294. 2. Paul Thomas, K a rl M a rx and the Anarchists (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1980), p. 349.

316

no tes

3. L. B. Namier, 1848: T h e R evolution o f the In te lle ctu als (O xford: Oxford University Press, 1944), p. 9. Italics added by A. W . G. 4. Cited in ib id ., p. 10. 5. Cited in ib id ., p. 11. 6. G. P. M axim off, ed., T h e P o litica l P hilosophy o f B a ku n in : S cie ntific A n a r­ chism (N e w York: Free Press, 1953), pp. 214, 216. 7. Thomas, K a rl M a rx, p. 344. 8. M E W , Vol. 28, p. 189. 9. Carmen Claudin-Urondo, L e n in and the C u ltu ra l R evolution (A tla n tic Highlands, N . J.: Humanities Press, 1977), p. 16. 10. David M cLellan, ed., K a rl M arx's Selected W ritin g s (London: Oxford U n i­ versity Press, 1977), p. 594. 11. Cited in Thomas, K a rl M a rx, p. 299. 12. M ax Nomad, Apostles o f R evolution (Boston: L ittle , Brown, 1939), p. 62.

8. M a rx in to M a rxist: T h e C on fron ta tion o f T heoretical Resources 1. For example, see L. Althusser, Essays in S elf-C riticism , trans. Grahame Lock

2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

(London: New L eft Books, 1976), p. 64. Ib id ., p. 106. Ib id ., p. 150. Goran Therborn, Science, Class, and Society: O n the Form ation o f Sociology and H isto rica l M aterialism (London: New Left Books, 1976), pp. 356-57. Nicholas Lobkowicz, T he o ry and Practice (N o tre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1967), p. 321. A scintillating book. K arl Marx, A C o n trib u tio n to the C ritiq u e o f P o litica l Econom y (N e w York: International Publishers, 1970), quoted from the introduction by Maurice Dobb.

7. Ib id ., p . 6.

8. Ronald L. Meek, Social Science and the Ignoble Savage (Cambridge: Cam­ bridge U niversity Press, 1976), pp. 6, 161, 165-66, 173, 176. 9. Ib id ., p . 6.

10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

p. 161. pp. 165-66. p. 173. p. 176. p. 225. Roberto Michels, F irst Lectures in P o litica l Sociology (M inneapolis: U n i­ versity of Minnesota Press, 1949). Ib id . G. W . F. Hegel, Philosophy o f R ig h t, trans. T . M . Knox (O xford: Oxford University Press, 1967), pp. 129-30. Ib id ., pp. 226-27. Friedrich Engels, L u d w ig Feuerbach and the Outcom e o f Classical Germ an Philosophy (N e w York: International Publishers, 1941), pp. 369-70. M arx, C o n trib u tio n , p. 20. C M , p. 7.

Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id ., Ib id .,

NOTES

3 17

22. In this respect it is notable how great a change Althusser’s accounting for the origins of Marxism had later undergone. Where, formerly, Althusser had referred prim arily to certain mysterious forces, the coupure, now he ac­ counts for the emergence of Marxism in a way much more nearly in terms of the sociology of knowledge. In part, this strengthens the consistency of Althusser’s theory for, according to his anti-humanism, Marx could never have been the m aker of Marxism, since “ the real stage directors of history are the relations of production.” Marx, then, could only have been a m edium through which the impersonal structures of history spoke. A Marxism made by Marx was not consistent w ith Althusser's view that history is a process w ithout a subject. I t was therefore not consistent to have explained Marxism, the “ most unprecedented event in history,” as a coupure made by the man, Marx. Be that as it may, Althusser now rejects his former analysis of the origins of Marxism, no longer stressing its internal sources, and he now views them as grounded in certain external and, in particular, political events and processes. For Althusser, the origins of Marxism are now no longer found in an autonomous epistemological break, nor is it the product of other technical theories such as German philosophy or English political economy; the latter is now viewed as only the abstract, theoretical reflection of new socioeconomic realities. For Althusser today, Marxism’s origin is now to be found in the fact that Marx took up a new p o litic a l position, which readied him for a new philosophical position, on which basis his scientific discovery or “ break” was made. Yet there is a basic ambiguity here. On the one hand, Althusser accounts for the origins of Marxism by referring to certain “ prac­ tical realities,” arguing that “ it is the [class] political position that occupies the determinant place” (Althusser, p. 158), while, on the other hand, grounding his account in the stance that M arx had adopted, that is, in his political com m itm ent (p. 69). Althusser’s present account of the origins of Marxism is thus a shambles, relying in the first instance on a m irror epis­ temology—i.e., M arx simply “ mirrored” political reality (b u t why him , rather than sixty-five others?)—and, in the second instance, stressing the new p o litic a l stance, presumably at the bottom of the chain of events leading to Marxism, and this is essentially a voluntarism ; for this new stance itself is ungrounded, and the political stance is made to precede a rational justifica­ tion in theory, the philosophical shift. 23. George Kneller, T he A rt and Science of C re a tivity (N e w York: H olt, Rine­ hart and W inston, 1965). 24. A rthur Koestler, T h e A ct o f C reation (London: Hutchinson, 1964), pp. 119-20. 25. Ib id ., p. 182. 26. Ib id ., p. 201. 27. Ib id ., p. 120. 28. Ib id ., p. 177. 29. Ib id ., p. 230. 30. Ib id ., p. 233. 31. Ib id ., p. 257. 32. Jerome Bruner, “ The Conditions of Creativity,” in H . E. Gruber, ed., C on­ tem porary Approaches to C reative T h in k in g (N ew York: Atherton Press, 1962), p. 6.

318

NO TES

9. Enslavem ent: T h e M e ta p h o rica lity o f M arxism 1. Paul M . Sweezy, “ Reply,” M o n th ly Review (December 1970), p. 17. 2. Serge M allet, “ Bureaucracy and Technocracy in the Socialist Countries,” Socialist R evolution (May-June 1970), p. 48. 3. I do not use this term as it was first employed by John Gumperz in “ Linguis­ tics and Social Interaction in Tw o Communities,” in J. J. Gumperz and D ell Hymes, eds., T h e E thnography o f C om m unication (W ashington, D. C .: American Anthropological Association, 1964), pp. 137-54. Gumperz—and, for that matter, Joshua Fishman—used the term to refer to an alternation of language varieties. W hat I am concerned w ith here, however—and “ meta­ phorical switching” seems the proper term for it —entails the switching of a metaphor from one point of application (o r topic) to another, and thus en­ tails a certain continuity in referential meaning. 4. I do not lim it the “ paleosymbolic” to the pre-linguistic level as does Jurgen Habermas, for reasons that cannot be discussed here. Most basically, our view of the paleosymbolic converges w ith Basil Bernstein’s concept of a “ restricted” linguistic code and w ith Lev Semenovich Vygotsky’s concept of “ inner speech.” For more extended discussion, see the Appendix at the end of this chapter. 5. C f. the distinctions made by P. Greenfield, L . Reich, R. Olver, and J. Hornsby, in P. Adams, ed., Language in T h in k in g (London: Penguin, 1972), pp. 217 et seq and pp. 303 et seq. O riginally published 1966. 6. Thus K. S. Karel remarks: “ To find out if a statesman or intellectual is pro­ gressive or reactionary, we must look not so much at his professions of fa ith as at his attitude toward the U nited States.” K. S. Karel, G uerrillas in Power: T h e Course o f the C uban R evolution (N e w York: H ill and W ang, 1970), p. 55. Such a functional and concrete rule, of course, runs into trouble when one-time enemies achieve “ detente” ; for according to this rule, one must now conclude that China and the USSR, who have accepted detente w ith the U nited States, are reactionary. 7. Karl Marx, M isere de la philosophie (Paris: Editions Sociales, 1968), p. 121. Published originally in 1846. 8. D irk J. Struik, ed., B irth o f the C om m unist M anifesto (N e w York: Inter­ national Publishers, 1971), p. 165. 9. I am indebted to Catherine Gallagher for calling this to my attention and allowing me to read a first draft of the relevant chapter of her dissertation which attends to “ the complex and often contradictory relationship between the spokesmen for the anti-slavery movement and the critics of industrial society. A whole tradition of anti-industrial literature and social criticism appropriated the images, the rhetoric, and the tone of the anti-slavery move­ ment. Simultaneously, however, it inherited arguments and rhetorical strat­ egies associated w ith the advocates of slavery.” The point, of course, is that these early critics of industrialism contrasted the “ Yorkshire slavery” which they knew intim ately, and which, of course, was altogether different from wage-labor today in Western Europe, w ith a slavery that they usually did not know at first hand, so that the former m ight w ell strike them as more horrendous than the latter. 10. Engels, H e rr Eugen D ilh rin g 's R evolution in Science Q A n ti-D iih rin g '), trans. Emile Burn (N e w York: International Publishers, 1935), p. 216.

NOTES

3 J9

11. K a rl M arx, C ritiq u e of H egel’s “ Philosophy o f R ig h t” (C am bridge: Cam ­ bridge U n ive rsity Press, 1970), p. 131. O rig in a lly published Paris, 1844. 12. L . Feuerbach, Sam m tliche W erke (L e ip z ig : O. W igand, 1883), V ol. I I , P- 253. 13. In the pointed form ulation o f N icholas Lobkow icz: ' I n fact, the whole of Hegel's history is nothing b u t the grow ing o f the One T ru th w hich C hrist has sown, w hich began to sprout at Pentecost, and matures in man's theo­ logical thought. A n d Hegelianism is the ultim ate expansion and fr u it of C hristian fa ith ; it is fa ith transfigured into rational thought, fa ith transfig­ ured into philosophy. . . . Philosophy translates religion's symbolism into rational thought." N . Lobkowicz, T he o ry and Practice (N o tre Dame, In d .: U n ive rsity o f N otre Dame Press, 1967), p. 181. 14. M arx, C ritiq u e , p. 32. 15. Ib id ., p. 137. Italics added by A . W . G. 16. A n d this, o f course, is m uch o f w hat Hegel says about the young Geist that does not yet know the w orld as its own creation and remains alienated from it and itself. Looking backward, Hegel's view was an echo o f the PythagoreanPlatonic doctrine of reincarnation, and looking forw ard, it was part o f N ie tz­ sche's doctrine o f eternal recurrence. 17. George A . K elly, Idealism , P olitics, and H isto ry: Sources o f H egelian T h o u g h t (C am bridge: Cambridge U n ive rsity Press, 1969). 18. Josiah Royce, Lectures on M odern Idealism (N e w H aven: Yale U nive rsity Press, 1967), pp. 177-78. 19. Even in his 1844 C ritiq u e o f H egel’s “ Philosophy o f R ig h t,” M a rx insisted that, in bourgeois society, there "is not n a tu ra lly existing poverty b u t a rtifi­ cia lly produced poverty" (p . 142). I t is needless poverty, then, poverty im ­ posed by society, not nature, that now becomes the enemy; poverty that is not necessary because the available means o f production could overcome it, were they not crippled by the present property system and relationships of production. 20. C M , p. 55.

21. 22. 23. 24.

T h e italics here are added by A . W . G. to cla rify the point at issue. Joseph O 'M a lle y, Editor's In trod uctio n to M arx, C ritiq u e , p. xxix. D ic k H ow ard, "O n M arx's C ritic a l T h e o ry," Telos (F a ll 1 970): 226, 229. T o say, as M ao d id repeatedly, that "to rebel is ju stifie d " and that "trouble­ m aking is revolution," is to voice the anti-patriarchical resentment of sons and unite it w ith grievances against p u b lic authorities. 25. Jurgen Habermas, "T o w a rd a T heory of Com m unicative Competence," in Hans P. D reitzel, ed., Recent Sociology, N o. 2 (L o n d o n : M acm illan, 1970), p. 125.

1o. Recovery: T h e R a tio n a lity o f M arxism , I 1. M arx, C apital, V ol. I l l , pp. 770-74. 2. Ib id ., V o l. I, pp. 72, 75. 3. C f. N orm an Geras, "M a rx and the C ritiq u e o f P olitical Economy," in Robin Blackburn, ed., Ideology in Social Science (L o n d o n : F ontana/C ollins, 1972). 4. M a rtin Heidegger, W h a t Is a T hin g? , trans. W . B. Barton, Jr., and Vera

NOTES

32°

Deutsch (C hicago: H e n ry Regnery, 1967), pp. 72 et seq. Italics added by A . W . G. 5. George C. Iggers, ed., A n E xposition o f the D octrine o f Saint-Sim on (Boston: 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

Beacon Press, 1958), p. 114. Ib id ., p. 115. Ib id ., p. 118. Ib id ., p. 131. Ib id ., p. 116. Ib id ., p. 118. Ib id ., p. 129. Ib id ., p. 137. K arl M arx, Value, Price and P ro fit, ed. Eleanor M a rx A ve ling (N e w Y ork: International Publishers, 1935), p. 61. M arx, C apital, V ol. I, p. 650.

11. H olism : T he R a tio n a lity o f M arxism , 11 1. G l, p. 22. 2. D avid M cLe lla n , ed., K a rl M a rx: Selected W ritin g s (O x fo rd : O xford U n i­ 3. 4. 5. 6.

7. 8.

9.

10.

11. 12.

versity Press, 1977), pp. 156-58. For fu rth e r discussion, see C C , pp. 99 et seq. For detailed development, see also m y “ Romanticism and Classicism,” in For Sociology, pp. 323-68. C M , p. 28. Ib id ., p. 42. From Joseph O ’M alley's splendid introduction to M arx, C ritiq u e o f HegeVs “ Philosophy o f R ig h t” (C am bridge: Cambridge U nive rsity Press, 1970), p. lv iii. Ib id ., p. lii. O n the character and importance o f contest and struggle in the value system o f classical a ntiq uity, see E n te r Plato, Chapter 2, “ T h e Greek Contest System.” C M , p. 58. Nietzsche made a sim ilar call to struggle b u t he had a different gladiator-agent; the manifest mythos o f the “ overman” is his counterpart to M a rx ’s proletarian. M ore accurately, Nietzsche’s overman does not yet exist (as M a rx ’s proletarian d id ) and Zarathustra is his pre-figuring outrunner; in effect, Zarathustra is a metaphor focusing directly on the special intellectual who w ill summon and prepare the overman, in contrast w ith M a rx who enshadows the sum m oning intellectual and focuses instead on the proletariat that he summons. M ore fu lly , “ the tru th is the whole, b u t the whole is only the essence per­ fecting itself through its development.” C f. W . Kaufm ann, H egel: A R ein­ terpretation (G arden C ity , N . Y .: A nchor Books, 1966). C M , p. 35. T h e indisputably classic source o f this remains M ax W eber’s great essay, “ Religious Rejections o f the W o rld and T h e ir D irections,” in H . G erth and C. W rig h t M ills , eds., From M a x W eber (N e w Y ork: O xford U n ive rsity Press, 1946).

NOTES

3 21

12. D ialectic o f Recovery and H olism 1. For detailed discussion and documentation, see C C , especially Chapter 7, “ T h e M oralistics of T a lco tt Parsons/’ and particularly pp. 254 et seq. 2. For the form ulation o f the m atter and discussion w hich clearly sees (even i f dubiously e xpla in in g ) the ambiguities in W eber’s position, see Jeffrey C. Alexander’s T heoretical Logic in Sociology (Berkeley: U n ive rsity o f C a li­ fornia Press, 1982), esp. V ol. I, Pt. II. 3. A t the level of the in d iv id u a l person, it w ould hardly seem necessary to add that an acceptable doctrine o f wholeness cannot m aintain, in the m anner of the M arquis de Sade, that i f anything feels good, it cannot be bad. N o r could it m aintain that feeling as such—whatever its character—should never be suppressed. Persons cannot be whole except on the condition that their feelings are accessible to them, and these cannot be accessible unless there are some others to w hom —under conditions m u tu a lly acceptable—they can confide them. Yet this does not mean that any feeling may be expressed p u b lic ly at any time, or that persons are entitled to act upon them, as and when they alone choose. T here seems little p oin t in escaping the tyrannical state only to fly into the arms o f the tyrannical self. 4. For fu rth e r discussion, see the Introduction to F uture, the second volume of m y trilogy. 5. For fu rth e r but still p re lim ina ry thoughts on this, see my “ Politics of the M in d ,” in For Sociology, pp. 82-128.

Index

Absolute, the, 229 Address o f the C entral Com m ittee of the C om m unist League, 126, 128-31, 132, 133, 187 A lie n a tio n , 2 9 -3 3 , 130, 196, 231, 266, 271 o f artisans, 102, 112 o f intellectuals, 10, 3 3 -3 6 , 112, 113 o f w ork, 87 A lie n a tio n : M a rx ’s C onception o f M an in C ap ita list Society, 232 Althusser, Louis, 45, 100 on origins o f M arxism , 193-97, 203 Anarchism , 148, 150 A ncien regime, 39. See also O ld Regime Anderson, Perry, 187 Annenkov, Paul, 97, 98, 99, 123 Anom ie, 260—61 A n ti-D iih rin g , 119 A nti-intellectualism , 113-20. See also Artisans; Bakunin; Maoism A ristotle, 25 A rt and Science o f C re a tivity, T h e , 212 Artisans alienation, 102, 106 and 1848 revolutions, 103—105 exclusionary policies, 113 g u ild system, 102-103, 112

and intellectuals, 8 8 -1 1 1 , 113-20 radical, 101, 105, 170 and socialism, 106 socioeconomic position, 101-102, 106, 111-12 Artisan Congress, 103 Artisan organizations, exclusionary policies, 113-20, 144, 180 Babeuf, Gracchus, 50 egalitarianism, 153-58 Bachelard, Gaston, 195 Bakunin, M ik h a il, 131, 133. See also Bakuninism anarchism, 163 on bourgeois culture, 155-58, 165 and C om m unist League, 136 conflict w ith M arx, 94, 140, 141-89 destruction, 168—69, 173 direct action, 1 71-72 First International, 141—70 followers, 125, 170 expulsion from First International, 142 as Russian, 146 terror, 174-75 voluntarism , 158—62, 172 Bakuninism , and C ritic a l M arxism , 185-89

3^3

INDEX

324 B akuninist project, 5° B akuninist synthesis, 148-52 Balleter, H e in ric h , 143 Baron, Samuel, 17, 18 Bauer, Bruno, 29 on Jewish question, 74, 75 Bauer, H e in rich , 94, 117, 126 Bazard, Saint-Am and, 24, 236 Bebel, August, 99 Bernstein, Bazil, 238 Bernstein, Eduard, 5, 17, 181 Bettelheim , Charles, 221 Bismarck, O tto, 63 Blanc, Louis, 118, 144 B lanqui, Louis Auguste, 129 Bolshevik Party, 14, 17, 42 Borne, L u d w ig , 146 Bourgeois culture liq u id a tio n of. See C u ltu re , liq u id a tio n o f and private property, 156 fa m ily, 3 “ ideal type,” 4 Bourgeoisie. See also Intellectuals; M id d le class class interest, 37 cu ltural, 37, 45 hegemony of, 131-32, i34> 182 meaning of, 3—4 Bourgeoisie, N ew , versus O ld Regime, 2 5 9 -6 0 Brigands, 162—63, 166 B ukharin, N ik o la i Ivanovich, 15 Bulow-Com merow, Ernst von, 63 Bureaucracy, 86, 272 Burke, Kenneth, 204, 297 Cabet, Etienne, 95, 268 C a p ita l, 79, 80, 84, 132, 136, 137, 140, 142, 177, 196, 232 Capitalism class character, 244 contradictions of, 39, 48 and control o f labor, 8 4 -8 5 critique of, 2 3 3 -3 4 culture of, 44 efficiency logic, 8 5 -8 7 hegemony of, 11

hiddenness, 2 4 5 -4 6 and huckstering, 7 8 -8 7 industrial, 10 L e n in . See L e n in , V . I. M arx. See M a rx, K a rl as M arxist metaphor, 227 overthrow o f, 148 ownership o f state, 36 pathology of, 230 and production, 72 ra tio n a lity of, 79, 82 and subject-object inversion, 2 3 2 -3 4 worship o f money, 74 Carlo, A ntonio, 20—21 Cassagnac, A dolphe de, 209 Castroism, 187 C hartist movement, 10, 94 C h ristia n ity, 2 5 3 -5 5 C lark, John, 144 Class polarization, 11 Class struggle, 9, 16-17, 175, 228, 2 7 1 -7 3 Class Struggles in France, 134 Class system, 40 dissolution of, 9 C lau din -U ron do , Carmen, 44, 183 Coleridge, Samuel T aylo r, 270 C om ing C risis o f W estern Sociology, T h e , 223 C om m unication o f intim ates, 238 pre-linguistic, 238—39 radicalizing grammar, 3o Com m unism , 29 egalitarian, 94 m iddle class fear of, 60 p rim itive , 96 proletarian origins, 3 C om m unist leaders, intellectualism , 15 C om m unist League, 90, 93, 96—98, 100, h i , 114 demise of, 142 and 1848 revolutions, 120-21 “ first purge,” 9 7 -1 0 0 and M arx, 123 resuscitation, 125—26 split of, 133 -3 4 , 1 36 -3 7 C om m unist M anifesto, 7, 8, 36, 60, 89,

93 >

H

3>

1 3 0 -3 2 , i

53>

164,

INDEX

3^5

165, I9 9 , 2 I I , 224, 225, 231, 25O, 2 5 I, 271, 273 C om m unist Party of the Soviet U n io n

(CPSU), 45 C om m unist trials, Cologne, 136 Comte, Auguste, 8, 148-49, 208, 236, 268 philosophy of, 150—51 Congress of Vienna, 58 Consciousness. See also False conscious­ ness; Social consciousness autonomy, 12 and class being, 8 comm unist, 8 transform ation, 9 u n fo ld in g , 12 Conspiracy o f the Equals, 104 Consumerism, 11, 74 C o n trib u tio n o f the C ritiq u e o f P o litica l Economy, A , 199 Corporate syndicalism, 150 C ottle, Thomas, 50-51 C re a tivity boundary-transgression theory, 2 0 4 209 and critical a bility, 2 1 8 -1 9 Freudian theory, 2 1 5 -1 6 Gestalt theories, 215, 216 as insight, 214 as madness, 213 of M arx, 197-203 as problem-solving, 213, 217 psychological descriptions, 2 1 4 -1 6 roots of, 212—19 as synthesis, 217 C ritiq u e of H egel’s Philosophy o f R igh t, 14, 137, 226 C ritiq u e o f the Gotha Program, 196 “ C u ltu ra l revolutions,” Chinese, 46, 50, 155, 187. See also Revolu­ tion, cultural C ultu re, liq u id a tio n of, 5 0 -5 1 , 155, 15 7-58 , 166-70. See also Social liqu id a tio n C u ltu re of C ritic a l Discourse ( C C D ) , ^ 9- 33, 37- 38, 67, 98 D a rw in ia n struggle, 151, 286 Democratic Socialist U n io n , 122, 123

D em uth, Freddy, 118 D em uth, H elen, 118 Depression, effects of, 59-60 Determ inism , 158-62. See also Eco­ nomic determinism; M arx, Karl D ialectic o f Ideology and T echnology, T he, 239 Dietzgen, Eugene, 13 Dobb, M aurice, 2 01 -2 0 2 “ Doctors’ C lu b ,” 202, 203 D om ination, 2 8 6 -8 7 Draper, H a l, 75, 96, 99, 113, 128-30,

136, 137, 181 D iih rin g , Eugen, 119 D upont, Eugene, 143 D urkh eim , Em ile, 80, 150

Eccarius, Johann, 142, 143 Econom ic and Philosophical M a n u ­ scripts, 69, 73, 137 Economic determinism, 177, 184 Economics and C hristian ity, 2 5 3 -5 4 political, 232 p rio rity of, 176-77, 186, 2 5 6 -5 7 , 2 75 -7 7 Economism, 116, 2 4 5 -4 6 Education. See also Intellectuals; N e w Class importance of, 7 -8 , 95 as privilege, 7, 154, 157-58 Egalitarianism . See also E quality of Babeuf, 153-58 radical, 4 6 -4 7 , 49 Rousseau, 155 18 th Brum aire, 12 Elites bourgeois, 40-41 legitim ate, 49 powerless, 35 in T h ird W o rld , 37 E litism , 46, 160 Em ancipation, 34, 2 31 -3 2 , 2 6 4 -6 6 , 271, 272 E n fa n tin , Le Pere, 24, 236 Engels, Friedrich, 233 on Am erican C iv il W a r, 225 and artisans, 117

INDEX

326

Engels, Friedrich (cow t.) as bourgeois, 3 -4 , 7, 16, 113, 157, 194, 256 on capital, 152 and communism, 106 C om m unist League, 96 C om m unist M anifesto, 225 on England, 4, 10 exclusionary politics, 19 as German, 56 on German revolution, 132—33 on intelligentsia, 182 on Manchester w orking class, 55, 7 8 -7 9 , 249 M a rx -W e itlin g split, 97—99 on M arxism , 155 on O ld Theoretical System, 294 on p roductivity, 43 and press, 109, 123 relations w ith W illic h , 126 and revolutionary organization, 122 support o f M a rx fa m ily, 4 and unification o f revolution, 120—21 utopianism , 11, 92 and working-class movements, 20 E nlightenm ent, 1 1 ,2 4 Enslavement, as M arxist metaphor, 2 2 0 -3 9 E quality, 46, 50. See also Egalitarianism absolute, 251 versus p roductivity, 44, 49 Essence o f C h ristia n ity, T h e , 232 E volution, social, 8 E vil necessity of, 2 53 -5 7 , 258 unnecessary, 260—61 Exclusionary politics artisans, 113—20 M a rx and Engels, 118 Factory system, 101-102, h i , 112-13 Factory workers, 102, 105—106 liv in g standards, 5 7-58 False consciousness, 65, 139, 240—41, 264, 292, 295 Feuerbach, L u d w ig , 28, 33, 68, 226, 265 Filangieri, Gaetano, 209

First International, 118, 121, 133, 136, 140, 171 Forgetting, 248, 256, 286, 288 and discontinuity, 289—90 Fourier, Charles, 11, 77, 268 Fragmentation, overcoming, 266—73, 285 Frederick W ilh e lm I I I , 58 Frederick W ilh e lm IV , 62 F re e w ill, 160-61, 172 F reiligrath, Ferdinand, 96 Freud, Sigmund, 215—16, 239 Freudian psychoanalysis, 245 F uture o f In te lle ctu a ls and the Rise o f the N e w Class, T he , 45 G all, L u d w ig , 198 Gans, Eduard, 198, 200, 203 Geist, 12, 198 u n fo ld in g , 245, 247, 2 7 4 -7 6 Geras, N orm an, 19, 20 Germ an Ideology, T he , 8, 87, 130, 137, 198, 199, 264 German W a r o f Liberation, 56 German welfare state, 62 God, 226—27. See also C hristia n ity; Religion Goethe, Johann W o lfg an g von, 23, 270 Gottschalk, Andreas and Bakuninism , 149, 188 conflict w ith M arx, 121-26, 129, i 3 2 > I33> i 7 2

Gramsci, 15, 2 3 -2 4 , 168, 183, 278 G rundrisse, 196 Guaranties o f H arm ony and Freedom, 95 G u ild system, 102—103, 112 Habermas, Jurgen, 158, 236, 239, 264 Ham erow, Theodore, 102, 104, 111 H arrin gton , James, 209 Hegel, Georg W ilh e lm Friedrich, 33, 68, 196. See also Hegelianism ; Idealism c o n tin u ity w ith M arx, 2 1 0 -1 2 , 2 3 2 34, 2 7 1 -7 2 , 2 7 4 -7 6 Geist, 149, 245, 247, 2 7 4 -7 6 master-bondsman dialectic, 73, 151, 2 2 7 -3 0 , 234, 273

INDEX

necessity o f evil, 255, 2 5 7 -5 8 objective idealism, 112 power o f labor, 273 on reality, 263 on religion, 226 on tru th , 240, 274 Hegelianism , 185, 198, 2 0 0 -2 0 3 , 226 Hegelians, L e ft (Y o u n g ), 28, 68, 188, 202, 226 radicalization, 29, 32 Heidegger, M a rtin , 247—48 Hess, Moses, 96, 97, 99, 100, 125, 134 H istorical agent search for, 2 2 -2 7 search for new, 23—27, 222, 271 Hobsbawn, Eric, 101, 148, 162, 170 Hochberg M ovem ent, 119 H o ly F am ily, 137 H ostile inform ation, 2 9 4 -9 7 H ow ard, D ick, 232 H uckstering. See Capitalism ; Judaism and huckstering H um anistic im perialism , 34 H yndm an, H en ry, 185 Idealism, 68, 69, 195, 263 critiq u e of, 265, 276 German, 34, 56, 78, 107, 197-98, 229, 252 Hegelian, 19, 212 Inheritance, 251 Industrialism , 55, 58, 83 Industrialization, 112, 113 Intellectuals. See also N e w Class alienated, 10, 2 9 -3 6 , 180, 283 ancient Greek, 2 4 -2 5 and artisans, 8 8 -1 4 0 bourgeois, 16 career blockage, 29, 31, 36, 108— 109, 111—12, 181 class interests, 8, 181 as confidants of history, 41 consolidation o f revolution, 182-85 distrust of, 13—14 English, 9 -1 2 exclusionary policies, 180 French, 24 as functionaries, 2 81 -8 3 German, 21, 24

327 hum anistic, 282 and Leninism , 4 1 -4 6 origin o f M arxism , 18-22, 2 8 -2 9 overproduction of, 106-108 as party leaders, 4 4 -4 5 powerlessness, 21 and proletariat, 8 -9 and property, 252 radical, 6 -9 , 10, 12, 20, 3 0 -3 3 , 283 role in revolution, 18, 106-107, i o 9 romantic, 256 scientific and technical, 3 9 -4 1 , 150, 180, 182, 184, 282 socialist, 17—19 and Stalinism , 42—46, 182 and state, 36 theorists, 1 3-14 in T h ird W o rld , 37 and vanguard party, 14-18 worker, 1 2 -1 3 ,4 7 —48 and workers movement, 14, 113—15 Intelligentsia, “ free floating,” 194. See also Intellectuals In ternational W o rkin g m e n s Associa­ tion ( I.W . A .) , 90, h i , 141— 43, 145, 174 B akunin’s expulsion, 142, 172, 184 first congress, 114, 141, 143 statutes, 174 Isocrates, 25

Jacobinism, 56 Jarausch, Konrad, 107 Jewish Q uestion, T he , 76 Jogiches, Leo, 5 Journalism and mass media, role of, 109-10, 121, 123-24 Judaism and huckstering, 56, 7 4 -8 7 Jung, H erm ann, 143

Kautsky, K arl, 16, 19, 20, 28, 29, 66 K elly, George, 23, 228 K neller, George, 212 K noten, 42, 117, 118 Knowledge, 246, 250 recovered, 257 tacit, 2 4 7 -4 9 Koestler, A rth u r, 216—18

INDEX

328

Kriege, H erm ann, io o K u h n , Thomas, 204 Labor control over, 8 4 -8 5 division of, 87 redemptive power, 273 value of, 7 2 -7 3 , 2 0 0 -2 0 2 Lafargue, Paul, 4, 119, 147 Lam artine, Alphonse, 109 League o f Exiles, 93 League o f the Just, 93, 94, 96, 101, 103, h i , 113 exclusionary policies, 116-17 LeLubez, V ictor, 142 L en in, V . L , 12, 19, 20, 44, 90. See also Leninism capitalism, 43 “ economism,” 66, 116 elitism , 17 exclusionary politics, 118 as genius, 281 on intellectual leadership, 45 on productivity, 43, 86 on professional revolutionaries, 32, 184 on vanguard party, 14-16, 42, 142 on w orking class, 18, 21, 44 Leninism , 181, 182, 183, 186 and intelligentsia, 41—46 Lessner, Friedrich, 113, 143 Lobkowicz, Nicholas, 200 Locke, John, 214 London W orkers Educational U n io n , 136 Louis P hilippe, 59 Lukacs, Georg, 159, 168, 200, 227, 228, 277, 278, 280, 281 on L en in, 15-16 Lum yen'proletarians, 94, 162, 166, 170 Luxem burg, Rosa, 5 M achiavelli, N iccolo, 23 M aenchen-H elfen, O tto, 9 3 -9 5 , 122, 123, 125, 128-29, i36-37>

ML

157

M alet, Serge, 221 M an's nature, 39—40, 265 M anifeste des Egaux, 155, 157

M annheim , K a rl, 194 M ao Tse-tung, 15, 46, 136, 142. See also C u ltu ra l revolutions; Maoism Maoism, 86, 187, 188. See also C u ltu ra l revolutions C ritiq u e o f C om m unist Party, 50 and radical egalitarianism, 46, 49 M arechal, Sylvan, 155 M arx, Jenny, 5, 96 M arx, K a rl. See also M arxism on alienation, 3 3 -3 5 on Am erican C iv il W a r, 225 anti-Semitism, 74—78 as bourgeois, 3 -4 , 7, 16, 113, 1 5 7 58, 194 capitalism, critique, 74—78, 86 at Cologne, 121-26 and communism, 106 “ crude" communism, 74 conflicts w ith artisans, 105, 117-18, 147 w ith B akunin, 94, 140, 141-89 w ith Gottschalk, 121-26, 172 w ith other intellectuals, 1 44 -4 6 w ith Proudhon, 225 w ith W e itlin g , 9 3 -1 0 0 , 145 w ith W illic h , 132-34, 136 creativity of, 197-203 determinism , 158—62 distributive principle, 161-62 on economics, 176-77 in England, 4 exclusionary politics, 118 fa m ily life , 4 -5 as German, 5 5 -5 6 , 7 7 -7 8 , 172, 207 gradualism, 171, 185 Hegelianism , 181, 196, 2 3 2 -3 4 idealism, 73 ideology critique, 241 on intellectuals, 8—9, 11 Jewishness, rejection of, 56 man's nature, 3 9 -4 0 materialism, 12, 19, 32, 39, 50, 5 5 73, 263, 265, 275 historical, 159-60, 177, 209, 288 Neo-Classicism, critique of, 39 permanent revolution theory. See Permanent revolution theory

INDEX

politics, 176-78 rules of, 178-79 w ithdraw al from , 136-40, 142, 187 power struggle, 140 press, importance of, 109, 1 2 1 ,1 2 3 2 4 ,1 2 6 -2 7 p roductivity, 43, 201 and proletariat, 94 on profit, 66 revolution, unification of, 120—21 revolutionaries, relations w ith , 120-26 on scarcity, 130-32, 161, 162 scholarly w ork, 137—40, 142, 143 socialism, infrastructure of, 90 on state, 152-54 on tru th , 241 as utopian, 11, 92, 174 and w orking class, 38, 101 and working-class movement, 20 and working-class theorists, 13 M arx, Laura, 5 M arxism am biguity in , 48-51 anti-Hegelianism , 264 bourgeois origins, 3 -2 7 , 89, 194 and C C D , 3 7 -3 8 and C h ristia n ity, 2 5 3 -5 5 class origins, 6 commitments of, 4 7 -4 8 competing socialisms, 89 context-free, 2 2 0 -2 2 C ouncil Communists, 168 C ritica l, 46, 86, 168, 277—79, 289 and Bakuninism , 185-89 deep structure, 207, 209—12 de-mystification, 2 4 3 -4 5 , 264 early history, 5 5-71 , 9 3 -1 0 0 epistemology, 240—43, 274—78 fetishism, 2 4 4 -4 6 holistic analysis, 2 62 -8 3 and dialectic of recovery, 284—99 and intellectuals, 13—19 m etaphoricality of, 2 2 0 -3 9 metaphysics of, 278-81 and N e w Class, 28-51 origins historical, 55—71

329

social, 194-95 theoretical, 193-219 as a science, 193, 195, 196 paleosymbolism, 2 2 2 -2 3 , 235~39 rationality of, 240—83 recovery, 240-61 Scientific, 35, 43, 46, 86, 138, 168, 187, 276, 278 -8 1 , 289 and the state, 3 6 -3 7 systems analysis of, 279—81 utopian, 2 9 1 -9 2 vulgar, 276, 277, 279 “ W estern,” 187 and w orking class, 19 Master-bondsman dialectic, 73, 151, 2 2 7 -2 9 , 234, 273 M aterialism M arxist. See M arx, Karl philosophical, 67, 68, 69 popular, 55-71 binary fusion of, 7 2 -8 7 and interests, 6 4 -6 7 social, 209 vulgar, 72, 73 Meek, Ronald L., 208 M etternich, 59, n o era of, 56 M ichels, Roberto, 209 M id d le class. See also Bourgeoisie economic interests, 60, 61 hegemony over intellectuals, 11, 65 M illa r, John, 208 M isere de la yhilosoyhie, 225 M o ll, Joseph, 94, 117, 124, 126 M oney. See also Capitalism ; W e a lth corrupting influence, 7 4 -7 6 , 79, 80 circulation, 80—82 Moore, Barrington, 101, 143 M o ra lity, recovery of, 286 N am ier, L . B., 106 N eue Rheinische Z eitung, 109, 121, 123-24, 125, 134 fo ldin g, 126 N e w Class, 6, 15, 38, 67, 153-58,

253, 29 2 alienation, 16 and M arxist theory, 33—37 and m iddle class, 65

330 N e w Class ( cont.) politics of, 28-51 Nicolaievsky, Boris, 9 3 -9 5 , 122, 123, 125, 128-29, 136-37, 141, 157 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 31, 151, 294 Nom ad, M ax, 188 N orm alization, 297 Noyes, P. H ., 92, 129 O'Boyle, Lenore, 106, 107, 109 October R evolution, 163 Odger, George, 143 O ld Regime versus N e w Bourgeoisie, 2 5 9 -6 0 O ilm a n , Bertell, 232 O ’M alley, J.* 232 Organizations, com m itm ent to, 116, 178 Osgood, Charles, 257 Padover, Saul, 76, 143 Palecky, F., 175 Paris Com m une, 19, 44 Parkin, Frank, 114, 115 Parsons, T alco tt, 2 8 5 -8 6 , 287 Pascal, Blaise, 293 Party Congresses, 45 Paulsen, F riedrich, 106 Payne, Robert, 97 Peasantry, 59 revolutionary role, 162, 163, 164, 166, 170, 187, 188 Pecchio, Guiseppe, 209 Permanent revolution theory, 19, 50, 121-26, 137, 185 Pfaender, K a rl, 143 Phenomenologie des Geistes, 228 P hilips, L io n , 133 Philosophes, 24, 166, 250 Philosophy o f H isto ry, 226 P hilosophy o f R ig h t, 210 Plato, 24, 25, 83, 213 Plekhanov, G. V ., 15, 17, 18 Polanyi, M ichael, 247 P o litica l Power and Social Classes, 28 P olitical radicalization, 3 0 -3 3 and youth, 32 P olitical struggle, 264, 2 7 2 -7 3 Politics, cu ltu ra l context, 180—81

INDEX

Positivism, 149, 150, 2 5 8 -6 0 , 263, 293 and Romanticism, 2 6 7 -7 3 Positivist Society, 24 Poulantzas, Nicos, 28 Poverty o f Philosophy, T h e , 176 Power cu ltu ra l context, 180-81 and good, 2 5 7 -6 0 p u rsu it of, 87, 291 role of, 174 and w ealth, 152 w ill to, 151 -5 2 , 161, 176 P rim itive rebellion, 162 Private-public dichotom y, 2 1 0 -1 2 fusion of, 2 3 4 -3 5 Production forces of, 72, 75, 82, 83, 84, 1 9 7 200, 203, 249 and L e n in , 4 2 -4 3 liberation of, 39, 41 nationalization of, 36, 87 P roductivity, 77 heightening of, 4 1 -4 3 , 50 revolutionizing, 130, 131, 165, 170 versus equality, 44 Professional revolutionaries, 32, 42, 181, 184, 187 Profit, 79—80, 81, 86 private, 83, 84, 87 rule of, 85 Proletariat, 64, 66, 225. See also W o rk in g class and bourgeois revolution, 21—22 and capitalism, 11 dictatorship of, 36, 130, 152, 153, 167, 173, 179, 185 disinheritance, 251 dissatisfaction, 59 emancipation of, 7, 253—55 as historical agent, 12, 22—23, 26— 27, 222 role in revolution, 9 -1 1 , 162, 221 as ru lin g class, 292 social consciousness, 11, 18 vanguard, 24 Property importance of, 64, 288 private, 82, 85, 198-200, 203, 250, 252

INDEX

331

abolition of, 251, 253 protection of, 64 Protestant E thic, 286 Protestant E th ic and the S p irit o f C apitalism , T h e , 286 Proudhon, Pierre Joseph, 100, 149, 176 Q u a rte rly R eview, 109 Radowitz, General Joseph von, 62 Ranke, Leopold von, 62 R ationality, 11, 46, 4 7 -4 9 , 66, 2 4 0 -8 3 Raumer, George W ilh e lm , 209 Reality, definitions, 2 9 7 -9 8 , 299 social, 243, 244 Recovery dialectic of, 284—99 struggle for, 2 4 2 -4 4 Red Catechism fo r the Germ an People, 134

Reden, 23 Redfield, Robert, 35 “ Reflections o f a Y outh on Choosing an Occupation,” 68 Reform or R evolution?, 5 Reinische Z eitu n g, 29 R eligion, 2 8 5 -8 6 , 287. See also C hris­ tia n ity ; God R evolution. See also Revolutions of 1848 Berlin, 104 bourgeois, 2 1 -2 2 bourgeois stage, 1 29-30 class basis, 162—66 cu ltural, 167, 173, 174 economic requisites, 168 in France, 57, 58, 60, 107, 124, 134 French, the, 36 German, 23, 43, 60, 62, 101, 104, 106, 109, n o , 124, 131-33 Hanover, 104, 105 international, 133-35* *37 as negation, 166-70 Paris, 104, 105 proletarian, 22 Russian, 17, 136, 221 social, 1 72 -7 4 Vienna, 104 “ R evolutionary messianism,” 168, 280

Revolutions o f 1848. See also Revo­ lu tio n background, 5 6 -6 0 defeat of, 61 reaction to, 60—61 and socialism, 8 8 -1 4 0 R iehl, W . H ., 106 Ringer, Fritz, 112 Rodriques, O linde, 76 Rogers, Carl, 216 Romantic movement, 107 Romanticism German, 56, 57 and positivism, 2 67 -7 3 and scientism, 39-41 Roser, P. G., 133 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 155, 156, 157 Royce, Josiah, 228 R u lin g class, 6 -9 Russian Social Democratic Federation, 118 Russian Social Democratic Party, 17 Saint-Simon, H e n ri, 11, 24, 197, 208 and new technology, 249 and positivism, 150, 268, 269 and private property, 2 5 0 -5 2 Saint-Simonians, 24, 198 and new society, 268 organization, 149-50 and philanthropism , 95 and property, 198-200, 203 Scarcity, 254 elim inating, 130-32, 148, 249, 251, 291 Schapper, K arl, 94, 95, 128 and C om m unist League, 123, 124, 126 revolutionary views, 136 split w ith M arx, 100, 1 32 -3 4 split w ith W e itlin g , 96 Schapper, W ilh e lm , 117 Science, 250-51 and elitism , 150-51, 183, 259 new, 268—69 Scientism, and romanticism, 39-41 Second International, 132 Secret societies, 93, 96, 101-103, 113, 126, 128

INDEX

332 Sewell, W illia m , Jr., 111-12 Silesian weavers riot, 105 Slavery, historical necessity, 225 Social being, 266 and social consciousness, 6, 19, 39 Social consciousness, 20 and social being, 6, 19, 39 Social liquidation, 176, 183, 184-85. See also C u ltu re , liq u id a tio n o f Social transform ation process, 171 Socialism. See also M arxism and control of labor, 8 4 -8 5 economic requisites, 186 in industrial societies, 11 organizations, 91—92. See also Secret societies paradoxes, 171-89 scientific, 131, 132 utopian, 89, 131, 267—68 Societe Com m uniste Revolutionnaire,

101 Society o f Seasons, 1o 1 Socrates, 263 Soziale und politische Geschichte der R evolution von 1848, 101 Stadelmann, R udolf, 101, 104 Stalin, Joseph, 15. See also Stalinism and intelligentsia, 42—46 national socialism, 135 purge, 45, 182 terror, 43 Stalinism , 16, 17, 163. See also Stalin State Bakunin versus M arx, 152-53 as brotherhood, 290-91 centralized, 174 and intellectuals, 3 6 -3 7 ownership o f means of production, 36, 39, 148, 152 ownership o f property, 251 role in socialism, 33 welfare, 36 Statehood and A narchy, 153, 166 Stein, Lorenz von, 64 Stevin, Simon, 82 Strauhinger, 117 Structural functionalism , 263 Students, 103, 162-63 Suffering. See E v il

Subject-object metaphor, 2 2 8 -3 2 inversion of, 2 3 2 -3 4 Sweezy, Paul, 221 Technology. See also Science in e lim in a ting scarcity, 249 e vil of, 254 new, 39 Theorists, social situation of, 2 9 8 -9 9 Theory, value of, 13-18 T herborn, Goran, 20, 21, 22, 100, 194, 195, 256 on intellectuals, 2 8 -2 9 Thesis on Feuerbach, 38 T h ird W o rld intellectuals in, 37 M arxism in , 187 nationalist movement, 37 Thomas, Paul, 143, 145, 148, 162, 163, 173, 176 T ocqueville, Alexis de, 175 T o la in , H e n ri, 143, 144 Trade unions, 115—16, 142 T ra d itio n , 2 9 3 -9 4 T raditions, Great and L ittle , 35 T rotsky, Leon, 15, 19, 135 T ru th , 296 corruption of, 292 H egelian view, 240 M arxist view, 2 4 1 -4 2 , 244, 2 4 7 -4 8 U n ity , hum an, 266 U niversal class, 271—72, 292 U niversal Society o f R evolutionary Communists, 129 Utopians. See M arxism ; Socialism V alentin, V e it, 106 Vanguard party, 42, 115, 142, 181, 182, 186 and intellectuals, 14-18 Var, Robert du, 209 Vaux, C lo tild e de, 236 V oluntarism , 158—62, 195 V yestnik Yevro'py, 97 Vygotsky, Lev Semenovich, 237 W agner, A dolph, 119 W a lle r, W illa rd , 292

INDEX

333

W allerstein, Im m anuel, 134 W e a lth, 152. See also M oney W eber, M ax, 8 1 -8 2 , 236, 285, 2 8 6 -8 7 W e itlin g , W ilh e lm , 2 1 -2 2 and B akunin, 149, 188 conflict w ith M arx, 9 3 -1 0 0 , 113, 121, 123, 125, 132, 145, 147 guerrilla army, 133 and intellectuals, 95 in League o f Just, 116—17 split w ith Schapper, 96 working-class origins, 13 W estphalen, Baron von, 96, 97, 198 W h a t Is T o Be Done?, 14, 16, 17, 42, 44 , 9 ° W illic h , August von, 121-23, I 2 5, I 2 ^ and B akunin, 149, 188 conflict w ith M arx, 132-34, 136 m ilita n t revolution, 133 W o rke r intellectuals, M arxist critique, 1 2 -1 3

W orkers’ U n io n , 122, 124, 125 W o rk in g class enlightenm ent, 12 as historical agent, 271 and intellectuals, 12—14 “ natural evolution,” 17-18 self-emancipation, 13, 29, 50, 95 social consciousness, 16-17 and socialism, 10-11 in revolution, 221 urban, 164-65 W orking-class movement, 2 0 -2 1 , 1 2 2 2 6 , 139-4° W o rld reconstruction, 264, 2 6 7 -7 3

Young German Movement, 56 Young H egel, T he , 200

Z ollve r ein, 101, 105