A Marxist Theory of Ideology: Praxis, Thought, and the Social World 2020004596, 2020004597, 9780367409630, 9780367810146

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A Marxist Theory of Ideology

This work explores the question of defining ideology from a Marxist perspective. Advancing beyond the schemas of discussion presented in current Marxist literature, the author offers an account of how the concept of ideology should be defined and what role it plays within historical materialism. Through a close reading of Karl Marx’s relevant writings, this volume demonstrates that while there is no coherent, single account of ideology in Marx’s work, his materialist framework can be reconstructed in a defensible and ‘non-deterministic’ way. The definition of ideology presented is then articulated through a close reading of Antonio Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks. Efforts are also made to demonstrate that Gramsci’s interpretation of historical materialism is indeed consistent and compatible with Marx’s. A systematic articulation of a theory of ideology that combines the works of Marx and Gramsci, as well as adding elements of Pierre Bourdieu’s social theory and William James’s psychology, this volume will appeal to scholars of social and political theory with interests in political economy and Marxist thought. Andrea Sau is Lecturer in Politics and International Relations at St Mary’s University Twickenham. He has also taught at the University of Hertfordshire and King’s College London, where he completed his PhD.

Routledge Studies in Social and Political Thought

145 The Social Life of Nothing Silence, Invisibility and Emptiness in Tales of Lost Experience Susie Scott 146 A Politics of Disgust Selfhood, World-Making and Ethics Eleonora Joensuu 147 The Lived Experiences of Muslims in Europe Recognition, Power and Intersubjective Dilemmas Des Delaney 148 Ethical Politics and Modern Society T. H. Green’s Practical Philosophy and Modern China James Jia-Hau Liu 149 Consciousness and the Neoliberal Subject A Theory of Ideology via Marcuse, Jameson and Žižek Jon Bailes 150 Hegel and Contemporary Practical Philosophy Beyond Kantian-Constructivism James Gledhill and Sebastian Stein 151 A Marxist Theory of Ideology Praxis, Thought, and the Social World Andrea Sau 152 Stupidity in Politics Its Unavoidability and Potential Nobutaka Otobe For a full list of titles in this series, please visit www.routledge.com/series/RSSPT

A Marxist Theory of Ideology Praxis, Thought, and the Social World

Andrea Sau

First published 2020 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2020 Andrea Sau The right of Andrea Sau to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Sau, Andrea, 1988- author. Title: A Marxist theory of ideology : praxis, thought and the social world / Andrea Sau. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2020. | Series: Routledge studies in social and political thought | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020004596 (print) | LCCN 2020004597 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367409630 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367810146 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Marx, Karl, 1818-1883. | Ideology. | Communism. | Socialism. | Philosophy, Marxist. Classification: LCC HX39.5 .S2327 2020 (print) | LCC HX39.5 (ebook) | DDC 320.5--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020004596 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020004597 ISBN: 978-0-367-40963-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-81014-6 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books

‘Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past’. Marx, K. (1979) p. 103.

Contents

Acknowledgements Introduction

viii 1

1

Why another Marxist theory of ideology?

10

2

Historical materialism and ideology

63

3

Commodity fetishism

125

4

Gramsci’s Marxism

157

5

Praxis, thought, and the social world

195

Conclusion Bibliography Index

219 222 226

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Alex Callinicos for his outstanding supervision. I greatly appreciated his comments, criticisms, and efforts to make me stick to the topic, but also his faith in my intuitions. I am also thankful to Jan Rehmann for his encouraging comments on this work’s early drafts. A special mention goes to my dear friend David L. T. Sommer (UCL), who read countless passages from various drafts. Our discussions, and his ruthless criticisms of my ideas, were absolutely central to the development of the concepts presented in this book. At Routledge, I would like to thank Neil Jordan for all his help in getting my PhD in shape for publication and Alice Salt for her guidance and support. I am also thankful to Anna Dolan and Judit Varga for their excellent copy-editing work. Finally, I would like to thank Emily D. Greener and my family, especially my mum, for all her encouragement and support throughout the years. Grazie mamma!

Introduction

As the title states, this book presents a Marxist theory of ideology. While this work attempts to deal with complex issues relating to the literature on the topic (which might interest the erudite reader), I also do my best to explain the material discussed in some depth as well as providing definitions for most of the concepts presented. This is to make the book intelligible to those unfamiliar with the literature surrounding Marx and ideology. In other words, this work tries to cater for the needs of students approaching Marxist theory for the first time, as well as providing the level of depth necessary to satisfy more knowledgeable readers. This introduction will directly address both groups by answering what I assume to be their most pressing questions upon reading the title: The student might wonder: What is Marxism? And what is ideology? The academic might simply ask: Why do we need another one of ‘those’? Let us begin by trying to make this whole discussion intelligible to those unfamiliar with the topic. Although mostly known for his support of communism, Marx also presented a sketch (we must emphasise the cryptic nature of Marx’s remarks on the matter) for a theory of history, that later came to be known as historical materialism. Marx’s theory emphasises the role of the economy (understood in the usual sense of production, consumption and distribution of things) in determining societies’ culture and politics, as well as their overall historic development. In other words, Marx offered what might be called an economic determinist account of development and change. This was expressed in terms of technological advancement (insofar as technology is a product of labour, which in turn effects how production is carried out) but also by reference to what Marx calls class struggle. The idea of technological development determining society should not be understood as the transformation of individuals into puppets by technology. Rather, as the fact that new technologies lead to a development in both human needs (by shaping the way existing needs are satisfied and by producing further needs for the technological objects themselves) and capacities. This, in turn, leads to the transformation of culture in general, as the behaviour of individuals is altered by the new magical objects. This is what Marx meant when he said that:

2

Introduction The object is not an object in general, but a definite object which must be consumed in a definite way, a way mediated by production itself. The hunger gratified by cooked meat eaten with a knife and fork is a different hunger from that which bolts down raw meat with the aid of hand, nail and tooth. Production thus produces not only the object but also the manner of consumption, not only objectively but also subjectively. Production thus creates the consumer. Production not only supplies a material for the need, but it also supplies a need for the material.1

While the reader might be persuaded by the above argument and recognise the immense impact of technology on culture, class struggle might appear to be something irrelevant in a world where the internet and social media have created new avenues for the consumption and production of things. Why do we still need the old story of struggle between capitalists and workers? Although the existence of social media and streaming platforms might appear to contradict Marx’s framework, a closer look reveals the ever-lasting importance of his concepts. Indeed, the way in which the internet has created new avenues of production and profit-making implicitly shows that Marx’s combination of technological development and class struggle is still needed to approach social reality. Marx foresaw how technological development would lead, not only to the creation of new capacities and needs (e.g., we can now produce and distribute information from the comforts of our homes), but also to newer avenues of production and profitmaking. Since profit making, as we will explain later,2 always entails the exploitation of someone’s labour,3 technological development and class struggle must always be kept in mind in their unity and mutual determination. Under capitalism all production entails an uneven relationship between the resources (money) accumulated by the capitalists (those that own the means of production) and the ones appropriated by the workers (those who employ their labour in exchange for wages). Ultimately, even if we must acknowledge that our new world is far from the reality depicted by Marx, the inequalities of our society and the consequential problems those inequalities bring about are still rooted in the uneven relationship between the owners of the means of production (capitalists) and those who do not possess the means of production and so must sell their labour (workers). When we speak of class struggle, we must not think, necessarily, of strikes and union actions (overt cases of struggle). The concept must rather be postulated as a constant feature of the capitalist system insofar as the capital/labour relationship entails a conflict of interest. The capitalist has an interest in paying the workers as little as possible (the less the costs, the more the returns) while the workers benefit from higher wages. The incentives that lead our capitalists to initiate production, as well as the motivations that lead them to seek technological 1 Marx, K. (1987a) p. 29. 2 Exploitation in general will be explained on p. 98, exploitation under capitalism on pp. 134–140. 3 Unless we are talking of financial capital.

Introduction

3

development, have remained unaltered. We all know that everything is created for profit. No production would occur if this incentive did not exist. Furthermore, we must not forget that the factory production described by Marx still exists today. We can know this by simply checking the labels on our clothes. Our leisure and consumption still rely on the toil of those producing ‘the materials’ necessary for our cyber lives. Indeed, no ‘digital production’ can exist without the technology which allows this, while the technology relies on the material production of factory workers in developing countries, whose exploitation is not something anyone can doubt. By using classical Marxist concepts, the recent works of authors like Christian Fuchs have shown that the processes involved in digital labour still function according to the logics of capitalist accumulation and workers’ exploitation. Furthermore, Fuchs emphasises the relationship between digital labour and the exploitation of ‘regular/physical labour’ in order to construct our computers, phones, etc., as well as the exploitations of the workers employed in the process: Retailers of ICTs4 buy products from large ICT producers, who tend to outsource hardware manufacturing and buy the hardware components from other companies that buy metals from processing companies that buy raw materials from middlemen who buy them from primary extractors. This complex global value chain involves many nested social relations so that the underlying social relations are not visible at the upper level. Consumers know which label is on their mobile phone or laptop and from which retailer they bought the device, but the dead thing they possess does not talk; it is rather silent on the living labour relations that created it.5 It is interesting to see how the advent of the internet has brought about a renaissance in Marxist theory, with authors such as Fuchs, Rudi Schmiede, Jodi Dean, Lisa Nakamura and Nick Dyer-Witheford employing Marxist notions to study the internet. For all these reasons, I believe that Marx still has much to teach us. Marx has also something to tell us about our political situation. Indeed, the current instability within Western capitalist ‘democracies’ can be explained by reference to Marx’s analysis of capitalism: 1

2

Capital invests abroad to take advantage of the cheaper labour and looser regulations of developing countries. This translates in less investment, and thus rising unemployment at home. Although technology creates new avenues of productions, it also destroys jobs by replacing workers with machines.6 4 Information and communications technology. 5 Fuchs, C. (2014) pp. 173–174. 6 Mainstream economists argue that the two tendencies are in equilibrium (x number of new jobs replacing x number of lost jobs), but we should have all reasons to doubt this.

4

Introduction

The more knowledgeable reader might have a problem with the analysis above. Indeed, most Marxist theories, by emphasising the role of economic interests, tend reduce the role of politicians and the state to the sustainment and further development of capitalist logics. This was almost perceived as a fact in the (pre-2008 crisis) neoliberal era of privatisation, de-regulation, free trade, low spending and high levels of international competition. But now we witness the return of nationalism and protectionism, two trends that disrupt global production, and thus hinder the interests of the transnational capitalist class. How can a Marxist explain all this? I became interested in the concept of ideology to understand the complexities of the relationship between economic structures and politics. I then came to the conclusion that to overcome the extreme economic determinism (economic interests completely determine politics) of some readings of Marx, a conception of ideology emphasising the different ways in which the same economic situation (and the broader social world) could be interpreted by different groups was necessary. The knowledgeable reader might find this enterprise problematic. Indeed, Marxist and critical theories tend to conceive ideology as something to do with the reproduction of the socio-economic order. Within this tradition, ideology is generally conceived as a process of socialisation that ‘makes’ individuals, as a form of distortion (e.g., a biased narrative justifying the socio-economic order), or as a vehicle for the interests of dominant classes. While the first notion is linked to the reproduction of the system, the second one relates to its justification (that is also, in a broader sense, viewed as part of reproduction). Finally, conceptions of the third type tend to understand ideology as specific narratives that justify the economic interests of the ruling classes, while those interests are understood broadly, and thus often equated with the sustainment of the capitalist socio-economic order (from which capitalists benefit). Unfortunately, none of these can help explain development and change, as they do not acknowledge the existence of struggles between dominant classes/groups. They often assume a united ruling class imposing one narrative brainwashing individuals into accepting the socio-economic order. Although critical theories nowadays acknowledge the struggle between dominant and subordinate groups, the conflict between dominant groups themselves is hardly ever discussed. The latter, in my view, has a central role in determining the ways I which people interpret the world, as political leaders all offer different social commentaries that support their respective policies (and the medias’ perspective is generally shaped by this competition, as different outlets support/condemn different parties). Political competition cannot be acknowledged by the existing critical approaches to ideology as they tend to view all bourgeois narratives as ‘more or less the same’. I believe this is a serious mistake. The struggles between political groups and their ideas, have an important historical role. In my view, it is politics and ideology which make the social world so unpredictable. Ideology provides the vision for political action by interpreting and explaining the social world, and so one cannot predict what views will prevail, what plans will be actualised, and

Introduction

5

what changes will be brought to the cultural, economic, and political realms of society. Although I agree with the third notion of ideology conceived as a vehicle of class interests, we must acknowledge that, beside the general support for the capitalist order (which all bourgeois ideologies have in common), ideologies also express more specific material interests (e.g., party b wants development of industry x) and other broader interests (e.g., cultural/religious matters) and values. Thus, the struggles between a decaying neoliberal ideology against right-wing populism should not be underestimated. We do not know where this conflict might lead. At this point, the erudite reader might argue that what I propose here has already been done by postmodern thinkers, whose emphasis on subjectivity, interpretation and meaning is now a trademark of today’s critical theory. I am trying to escape Marx’s determinism by including meaning and subjectivity, and so the ‘Marxism’ proposed here, is more of a ‘post-Marxism’. This would be an erroneous understanding of the present enterprise. First of all, although ideology brings interpretation and meaning to the methodological table, distinctions will be made between the economic structure and its internal (to borrow from Robert Brenner) ‘rules for reproduction’7 whose logics are constant and affirm themselves through the reproduction of the socio-economic order (even though what is produced, consumed and distributed varies, the social relations through which production, consumption and distribution operate are constant) and the more contingent aspects relating to ideologies and political action. The problem of interpretation is also conceived in a way that is much narrower than what is proposed by postmodern thinkers. Their method makes no distinctions (indeed they are against distinctions) between interpretations of capitalism and (let us say) films. Everything is mediated through interpretation and thus everything should be object to critical scrutiny. In this book, I will emphasise the overriding importance of the interpretations of the social world, rather than interpretations per-se. Indeed, while our interpretations of texts, songs, cats, dogs and what not, have little social consequences, interpretations and explanations of the social world (key features of ideology according to our interpretation) have tremendous political impact insofar as they inspire collective political action. The postmodern method presents a world that is too undifferentiated and indeterminate to even begin to narrow down the politically salient types of interpretation. This work also addresses critical theory’s passive conception of the individual. This is an issue for both Marxist (as we will see in our analysis of Louis Althusser and Georg Lukacs) and postmodern approaches. Indeed, even if the latter group emphasises indeterminacy, non-homogeneity and unpredictability, they still conceive some ‘dominant discourse’ which ‘constitutes subjects’ (that is, in postmodern lingo, the ‘making of individuals’). Critical theory tends to see individuals as puppets. Thoughtless cogs in the machine. And while Marxists theorists see ‘the escape’ from this condition in holistic 7 Brenner, R. (2007) p. 59.

6

Introduction

Marxist knowledge and revolution, postmodern thinkers see no way out. This dominant discourse produces the ‘voluntary servitude’ of the masses to the socio-economic order, while destroying any capacity for critical thinking (although, somehow, Marxist and postmodern thinkers are practically immune to this discourse as they can detect it and criticise it). To me, this way of conceiving the consent of the masses to the socio-economic world is both wrong and dehumanising. To use Baruch Spinoza’s words: If men’s minds were as easily controlled as their tongues, every king would sit safely on his throne, and government by compulsion would cease; for every subject would shape his life according to the intentions of his rulers, and would esteem a thing true or false, good or evil, just or unjust, in obedience to their dictates. However, (…) no man’s mind can possibly lie wholly at the disposition of another, for no one can willingly transfer his natural right of free reason and judgment, or be compelled so to do.8 Humans think for themselves. No dominant discourse is powerful enough to completely numb our brains. Indeed, in this work, the individual will be conceived in the Gramscian way, as a philosopher. Even if we admit the existence of conformism and crowd thinking, how can we know that group-thinking is truly accepted by the individual? How do we know that our individual is not simply pretending, just to fit in, while his mind sees the wrongs in his peers’ ways of thinking? The whole idea of the ‘constitution of the subject’ is in my view very elitist. It entails that only academics are (as if blessed with some special skill) able to think critically. It must be rejected altogether as it serves no purpose. The problem of people’s consent to unjust socio-economic orders should be posed from a practical perspective rather than in terms of thought. The fact that people consent to the socio-economic order does not mean that they support it on a conceptual level. I am here writing a work on Marx, yet I participate in capitalism’s reproduction. This is unavoidable for me unless a communist society were to rise tomorrow. Therefore, the problem of consent will be viewed through the logics of Pierre Bourdieu’s habitus/field dichotomy and will not entail ‘voluntary servitude’, but rather a perceived necessary servitude (one must join the socio-economic order to have a ‘normal life’). In fact, instead of talking of constitution, this work will conceive individuals as being educated and habituated to accept and respond to the social structures they encounter in their lives. Whether they also accept those structures uncritically and without reservation, frustration and anger, we cannot know. They are simply forced to accept them because they exist, and they appear (practically speaking) to be necessary. I will argue that ideology can function as a justification for the socio-economic order (even though it can also take the form of criticism) which homogenises individuals in their conceptions of 8 Spinoza, B. (2007) p. 257.

Introduction

7

the social world. However, ultimately, the acceptance of ‘dominant ideologies/ discourses’ is not necessary for the individual to partake in the reproduction of the socio-economic order. Indeed, ideology is much more important in determining its development. The theory I propose in this book attempts to combine classic Marxist concepts with Antonio Gramsci’s notion of hegemony, Bourdieu’s habitus/ field dichotomy, and William James’ conceptions of interest and belief. This apparently strange combination seems to me necessary insofar as the problem of ideology must be considered both from the individual perspective (since it is about people accepting/rejecting certain views of the social world instead of others), but also from the macro-perspective as it leads to collective action which has broad social consequences. The knowledgeable reader might have a problem with constructing a Marxist theory of this sort. Indeed, general theories (especially Marxist ones) have been deemed impossible insofar as they imply a teleological reading of reality (where everything that will happen can be predicted simply by appeal to the theory’s own logics). In other words, Marxist theories have been criticised for ‘answering questions’ without the need of empirical analysis. This is a legitimate criticism against some versions of historical materialism (e.g., G. A. Cohen’s). However, this is something I seek to avoid. What I propose here is not a theory through which one is able to answer historic questions a-priori, without any analysis. But rather, a theoretical framework by means of which one might formulate hypotheses. As S. H. Rigby puts it, historical materialism is more useful when it is seen as a historical theory which allows us to ask questions and construct hypotheses, rather than as a means of supplying ready-made answer. It is its concepts and questions which distinguish ‘Marxist’ history from other histories, rather than its forms of research and validation.9 This book will propose definitions of Marxist concepts as well as explaining their relationship to one another. I believe that by understanding them together in a systematic manner, they could be helpful when analysing social reality. However, I offer no pre-made formulas to explain events, crises, transformations, etc. Although the concepts presented can be used to construct hypotheses on such matters, the answers must be searched empirically. Furthermore, although I attempt to create a Marxist framework that is based on a close reading of his works, I make absolutely no claim to be offering what the ‘true’ Marx meant. This would be a ridiculous claim to make, especially considering all the ambiguities within his writings. Overall, I believe that Marxist concepts are superior to those presented by other critical thinkers, and that their systematisation can lead us to a more sophisticated understanding of the social world. Whether I am right is for critics to decide. 9 Rigby, S. H. (1998) p. 300.

8

Introduction

Having introduced our enterprise, we can now provide a brief overview of this work’s structure. The reader must bear in mind that this book seeks to answer the following question: What are the roles of ideology within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order from a Marxist perspective? In the first chapter, I will present a further justification of this project, which will be carried out by assessing criticisms against Marx’s theory as well as the alternatives proposed by various critical thinkers. There will also be a discussion of criticisms directed against any systematisation of Marx’s thought and the possibility for a theory of ideology. The final part of this chapter will be dedicated to an assessment of Theodor Adorno’s and Slavoj Žižek’s notions of ideology. Overall, the chapter will try to prove the everlasting importance of Marx’s works, as well as the need for (another) theory of ideology. In Chapter 2 we will delve into the controversy surrounding Marx’s historical materialism and ideology. The chapter will begin by introducing nine propositions which are central to this debate. After that, it will briefly address the theories of Lukács and Althusser, to familiarise our reader with some of the problems surrounding Marx’s materialism and its relationship to ideology. Then, we will focus on more recent secondary literature, in particular the works of Paul Ricoeur, Jorges Larrain, Terry Eagleton, Michael Rosen and Jan Rehmann. Their works are indeed interesting as they provide a close reading of Marx’s texts as well as different interpretations of salient passages. In fact, while Ricoeur, Larrain and Rehmann argue that Marx’s method is coherent throughout his writings and that he also presented a coherent theory of ideology, Rosen and Eagleton argue that Marx’s method and his theory of ideology are filled with ambiguities and contradictions. My position is somewhere in-between those two interpretations. I will argue that although Marx’s materialist method has been coherently stated throughout his writings, and that a general theory of formation of ideas is implied by this framework, his use of the term ideology is too ambiguous and inconsistent. While some hints towards a definition of ideology are implicit in the structure/superstructure dichotomy, the concept is too underdeveloped in Marx for us to create our theory out of his works alone. Because of those lacks, those concepts will be analysed again through Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks in Chapter 4. Chapter 3 will be dedicated to Marx’s theory of commodity fetishism. Two reasons make this discussion necessary. First, (as we will see) commodity fetishism is often associated with ideology. It is therefore important for us to clarify what this concept means and whether it is connected with the question of ideology. Second, since Eagleton argues that Marx’s theory of fetishism clashes with what he says in the ‘1859 Preface’ to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy and in The German Ideology, efforts will be made to demonstrate its compatibility with the rest of his materialist method. The overall aim of this chapter is to prove that Marx’s theory of commodity fetishism is a sub-theory of (or an application of) the general theory of

Introduction

9

formation of ideas elaborated in Chapter 2. I will also argue that capitalist relations of production make our consent for the socio-economic order appear spontaneous and voluntary. Chapter 4 will focus on Gramsci’s interpretation of historical materialism through a discussion of his Prison Notebooks. In this chapter I will argue that Gramsci’s philosophy of praxis represents a coherent and defensible reading of Marx’s materialism. The importance of the concept of practice/praxis will also be further developed. Gramsci’s concepts of the relations of forces and the permanent/occasional dichotomy will be employed to interpret Marx’s base/ superstructure metaphor. His notion of hegemony will also be explained in some depth and understood as a theory of social influence by means of domination and leadership. Overall, this chapter will seek to address the issues our previous reading of Marx left unsolved, as well as providing the reader with a definition of ideology. Chapter 5 will present a systematisation and synthesis of previously gathered insights, through which my interpretation of historical materialism and ideology will be further developed in combination with the concepts borrowed from Bourdieu and James. This chapter will also discuss hegemonic crises of leadership and ideologies’ reliance on past constructs.

1

Why another Marxist theory of ideology?

Classical Marxism, neo-Marxism, and post-Marxism This chapter will attempt to justify our enterprise. We will first discuss whether we need to return to Marx’s texts by addressing criticisms against his method presented by various thinkers, as well as some of the alternative frameworks proposed. After that, we will try to justify our project of creating a systematic theory of ideology based on Marx’s works. Then we will discuss the need for (yet another) theory of ideology. On the one hand, any attempt to construct theories has now been judged to be a doomed effort (especially by the postmodern tradition) at best, and at worst, a reiteration of rationalistic and metaphysical logics which serve the interests of dominant powers. On the other, theories of ideology are deemed impossible due to the contradictory epistemic stances they entail. Finally, we will discuss conceptions of ideology presented by Adorno and Žižek. It would be impossible to address all criticisms of Marxism coming from all traditions. So, we will focus on some of the intellectuals who have been (to different extents) inspired by Marx, but that are critical of his enterprise. To make our discussion more intelligible, I propose some (schematic and rough) distinctions between different approaches to the study of society by reference to their relationship to Marx’s political economy. The first group (of which this work is an instance) could be called the ‘classical Marxists’. These are thinkers who state the importance of Marxist concepts such as ‘relations of production’, ‘class’ etc., while also attempting to reconstruct/develop historical materialism. We must bear in mind that there are hardly any authors who agree with Marx on everything, so that classical Marxists are not defined by their complete embrace of Marx’s thought, but rather by their efforts to develop his framework. Thus, authors as diverse as Althusser, G. A. Cohen, Eagleton, Rehmann, Alex Callinicos, Raymond Williams, Jon Elster, Brenner, and E. M. Wood could be considered ‘classical Marxists’. The second group is what we might call ‘neo-Marxists’. Despite borrowing some concepts from Marx and presenting a ‘materialist framework’, those thinkers (whether implicitly or explicitly) reject attempts to develop a ‘theory of history’. Authors in this category would be Horkheimer, Adorno, Žižek, Holloway, Cleaver, Werner Bonefeld, Negri,

Why another Marxist theory of ideology?

11

Gianni Vattimo, and Moishe Postone. The third group could be called postMarxists. These are thinkers who, while acknowledging Marx’s importance, reject most of his concepts along with his materialism. Nevertheless, these thinkers see Marx as a precursor of their own ‘brand’ of critical theory. This group includes Castoriadis, Ernesto Laclau, Chantal Mouffe, Derrida, Michel Foucault and other post-structuralist/modern authors. These distinctions do not do justice to the authors mentioned. They should not be used as schemas to analyse those scholars, who are all original thinkers that resist labelling. Furthermore, it is hard to draw the line between neoMarxism and post-Marxism. One might argue (for example) that Žižek and Negri are better placed among the post-Marxists. It is thus important to understand that these categories have only been created for the purpose of this work, to explain how those authors stand in relation to it. They are simply tools to make things easier for those unfamiliar with critical theory. As stated in the Introduction, what I propose here is a return to Marx and a reconstruction of historical materialism that relies on most of the concepts appearing in his works. Therefore, we must first justify our need to look back at the corpus of literature produced by Marx and ‘classical Marxist’ authors by answering the criticisms of neo-Marxists and post-Marxists while also showing that those thinkers’ frameworks cannot provide a solid basis for social analysis. Discussing criticisms of (what is perceived as) ‘classical Marxism’ is not only necessary to rebut those attacks and prove the everlasting importance of Marxist concepts, but also to highlight how certain interpretations of those notions are (as critics rightly claim) problematic. Therefore, I will not necessarily disagree with the arguments presented against certain ‘versions’ of Marxism. Indeed, it is important to take them seriously so that we can reject certain variants of historical materialism and begin (in a simplified manner at this stage) to construct the core features of our interpretation.

Why Marx? 1 (neo-Marxist criticisms and alternatives) Horkheimer and Adorno The first authors we will be examining are Horkheimer and Adorno, also known as prominent members of the so-called Frankfurt School, which takes its name from the Institut fur Sozialforschung, established in 1923 in Frankfurt. Both were heavily influenced by Marx’s works, yet they became increasingly suspicious of what they perceived as a dogmatic ‘orthodox’ current of Marxism. The reason for this suspicion can be traced back to the crisis socialist movements faced at the time.1 Members of the Frankfurt School became disillusioned with Marx’s political predictions. Adorno discusses this at length in Negative Dialectics: 1 See Jay, M. (1972) p. 285.

12

Why another Marxist theory of ideology? The economic process, we hear, produces the conditions of political rule and keeps overturning them until the inevitable deliverance from the compulsion of economics. (…) The revolution desired (…) was one of economic conditions in society as a whole, in the basic stratum of its selfpreservation; it was not revolution as a change in society’s political form, in the rules of the game of dominion. (…) They (Marx and Engels) could not foresee what became apparent later, in the revolution’s failure even where it succeeded: that domination may outlast the planned economy.2

Marx’s writings sometimes suggest a teleological determinism according to which the various conflicts between economic classes, coupled with technological development, will ultimately lead to a classless society (communism). Adorno highlights that, even when such ‘revolutions’ succeeded they gave rise to totalitarian regimes which, rather than ‘liberating’ people from class relations, substituted them with authoritarian state power. Indeed, Adorno realises how Marxism could become the very theory justifying tyrannical states: ‘On the threadbare pretext of a dictatorship (now half a century old) of the proletariat (long bureaucratically administered), governmental terror machines entrench themselves as permanent institutions, mocking the theory they carry on their lips’.3 Adorno and Horkheimer blamed those atrocities on a vulgarised understanding of Marx’s materialism. The Frankfurt School addressed this issue from its early days. Horkheimer explicitly discussed it during his inaugural address for the Institute for Social Research4, where he criticised degenerations of Marxism conceiving the economic side of social life as the substance, while everything else is reduced to developments within such substance.5 As we will see, trying to escape this vulgar determinism has always been the most pressing tasks for Marxist thinkers. For Horkheimer and Adorno, the dangers of this deterministic framework were both theoretical (as Marxism is perceived as an objective science akin positivism, and its propositions are taken as universally valid, and thus accepted dogmatically) and political (as the revolution is seen as inevitable). This leads Adorno and Horkheimer to abandon the historical narrative presented by Marx’s method, while further developing his materialism to analyse the economic, cultural and political condition of their time.6 The revolutionary role of the working class is also abandoned. Capitalism has developed in ways Marx could not have predicted, so that his political programme (along with his faith in the working classes’ revolutionary potential) could not be applied to the post-war socio-economic order: 2 3 4 5 6

Adorno, T. (2004) pp. 321–322. Ibid., pp. 204–205. Horkheimer became its director in 1930. Horkheimer, M. (2018) p. 119. Therefore, the Frankfurt School’s criticism of historical materialism is more directed towards perceived degenerations and vulgarisations of the doctrine, rather than the theory per-se.

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The living conditions of laborers and employees at the time of the Communist Manifesto were the outcome of open oppression. Today they are, instead, motives for trade union organization and for discussion between dominant economic and political groups. (…) In the minds of men at least, the proletariat has been integrated into society.7 In Dialectic of Enlightenment, the two thinkers explain the reproduction of capitalism by appeal to the concept of reification (originally coined by Lukács): With bourgeois property, education and culture spread, driving paranoia into the dark corners of society and the psyche. (…) The less social reality kept pace with educated consciousness, the more that consciousness itself succumbed to a process of reification. Culture was entirely commoditized, disseminated as information which did not permeate those who acquired it. Thought becomes short-winded, confines itself to apprehending isolated facts.8 Although reification is never defined, (except by the enigmatic statement: ‘reification is forgetting’9) it relates to Marx’s notion of commodity fetishism and his claim that, under capitalism, relations between people become relations between things. Furthermore, the text suggests that reification is a practical consequence of the economy’s organisation (commodities’ exchange regulates the economy), while also manifesting the same rationalistic (meansto-ends) way of thinking they perceive to be characteristic of the Enlightenment. Thus, capitalist production, means-to ends rationalistic thinking, the equivalence of every commodity (insofar as they can all be exchanged), and the Enlightenments’ faith in objective science, are all combined into a sociocultural whole preventing individuals from realising the harsh realities of exploitation underlying this profit-driven clockwork system: Bourgeois society is ruled by equivalence. It makes dissimilar things comparable by reducing them to abstract quantities. For the Enlightenment, anything which cannot be resolved into numbers, and ultimately into one, is illusion modernism consigns it to poetry. Unity remains the watchword from Parmenides to Russell. All gods and qualities must be destroyed.10 Everything that does not fit into positivism and means-to-end rationalistic thinking is not knowledge. At best it can find expression in aesthetics and poetry. At worst, it must be destroyed. The text is an incessant attack against 7 8 9 10

Horkheimer, M. (1975) p. vi. Horkheimer, M. and Adorno, T. (2002) p.163. Ibid., p. 191. Ibid., pp. 4–5.

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the dehumanising logics of capitalist production, the practical behaviour this system creates, and the theory (Enlightenment) supporting and enhancing (through scientific/technological development) this process: Enlightenment consists primarily in the calculation of effects and in the technology of production and dissemination; the specific content of the ideology is exhausted in the idolization of the existing order and of the power by which the technology is controlled.11 The Enlightenment and instrumental rationality are also ‘transformed’ into an ‘ideology’ by ‘The Culture Industry’; which through film and radio ‘graphically’ express ‘the idolization of the existing order and of the power by which the technology is controlled’.12 Entertainment helps creating consent for the socio-economic order (by ideologising technology, the enlightenment and instrumental thinking), and contributes to the crippling of our intellect: The withering of imagination and spontaneity in the consumer of culture today need not be traced back to psychological mechanisms. The products themselves, especially the most characteristic, the sound film, cripple those faculties through their objective makeup. They are so constructed that their adequate comprehension requires a quick, observant, knowledgeable cast of mind but positively debars the spectator from thinking, if he is not to miss the fleeting facts.13 In their later works Adorno and Horkheimer further develop the themes presented in Dialectic of Enlightenment. While Adorno focuses more on the concepts of reification, identity thinking, and equivalence, Horkheimer concentrates on the critique of the positivist tradition and further develops the concept of instrumental reason. Nevertheless, their theories are both characterised by an emphasis on the underlying process of profit (or in Marxist terms ‘surplus’14) accumulation, shaping social life’s cultural, aesthetic, and political ‘dimensions’. In this they are still materialists in the Marxist sense. However, while classical Marxism presents abstractions to distinguish these different realms (e.g., the base/superstructure metaphor), the lines between them are blurred in Adorno’s and Horkheimer’s works. Indeed, one of the initial goals of the Frankfurt School was precisely to avoid schematisation and create a theory that emphasises interconnection.15 Let us now discuss the criticisms of orthodox Marxism. First, I agree with almost everything Adorno and Horkheimer say in relation to Marx’s political position and his predictions. Indeed, the idea that capitalism will 11 12 13 14 15

Ibid., pp. xviii – xix. Ibid. Ibid., p. 100 This concept will be explained later on pages 98, 134–140. Horkheimer, M. (2018) p. 119.

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automatically bring about communism is absurd. I also share their fear that communism might become an ideology that justifies dictatorships and atrocious crimes. In fact, I believe this is a danger inherent in all revolutionary politics (they want to destroy the current social order, and we do not know what they will replace it with, even if they make promises of equality and freedom). Regarding Adorno and Horkheimer’s pessimism towards the working classes’ role within a potential revolution, I am more ambivalent. Although I agree that it would be ludicrous to believe that the working classes will eventually spontaneously accept Marxist thinking and bring about the revolution (that is a very deterministic reading), the working class16 must nevertheless play a central role in any revolutionary or political activity. This is simply due to its size and potential if united (even though I believe such unity is very difficult to achieve). Although Marx’s predictions were proved wrong, this should not lead us to abandon his method. As I will try to demonstrate, Marx’s concepts can be useful to understand how different social realms are connected. Without conceptual precision I believe that our analysis of the social order will not be intelligible. The social whole is difficult to grasp in Horkheimer and Adorno’s works. Their distrust of science and positivism leads them to create an aesthetic experience with their writings. The connections between the different aspects of social reality they explore are never properly explained, and everything is resolved into what seems like an undifferentiated whole. One might reply that it was never their intention to create a system, or even define their concepts, as doing so would have brought them closer to ‘positivism’. That is true, but I also think that their criticisms of the capitalist order are not convincing. First, I find such a wholesale attack on science and instrumental reason to be hypocritical when we all benefit from the technological development capitalism has brought about. Marx’s productive forces/ relations of production dichotomy reminds us that machines are not the problem. It is their use to further the exploitation of workers and the ruthless depletion of the natural world which have destructive consequences. Adorno and Horkheimer were aware of this, but they perhaps decided to abandon the distinction as they associated it with the deterministic thesis that technological development automatically leads to communism. But without this distinction their position is akin to that of Luddites. Furthermore, their critique of ‘The Culture Industry’ is in my opinion outdated. The tendency to create a mass culture still exists, but we are also witnessing firms’ efforts to diversify what they produce to bring ‘original’ products that can satisfy our ever-increasing desire for novelty. Now the matter is no more that of creating a ‘common culture’ of Coca-Cola, where we can all feel at home, in a world where presidents and plumbers can enjoy the same sugary heaven. To keep going, capitalism must constantly renew itself and its relationship to 16 I am here not referring to industrial workers but rather to wage workers in general.

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consumers. Now capital is faced with an increasingly individualistic and narcissistic consumer base whose desires it tries to fulfil with ever new fashions, styles and objects. Hipster culture and its ‘selective consumption’, with its trademark obsession with authenticity and the ‘renewal of the traditional’, is precisely an effort to transform the ‘romantic’ (longing for a truer and lost past) view, that is so forcefully expressed in works like Dialectic of Enlightenment, into a profitable luxury commodity. There is also the possibility of using entertainment to criticise the socioeconomic order, which neither Horkheimer nor Adorno consider. Furthermore, in its present form, capitalism attempts to make profit out of rebellion or dissent, so that everything is ultimately integrated within its logics. There is no shortage of films or songs that harshly criticise capitalism being produced by multi-national corporations. We can also find art expressing the same romantic view of the world Adorno and Horkheimer state in their works. Ultimately, their picture of capitalism resembles more the dictatorships they were afraid of, where one monolithic and self-glorifying ideology is ever-present in all aspects of culture (one might think of North Korea as an extreme example of this). Negri It was difficult to decide whether Negri should be placed in the post-Marxist or neo-Marxist category, as his thought has developed and changed throughout the years. Indeed, while his early writings dealt with Marxist themes, his later works (especially those co-authored with Michael Hardt) began to move increasingly towards post-structuralism/postmodernism. To highlight this development, we will begin by discussing some of his earlier works, and then move onto his more recent writings with Hardt (focusing on the controversial Empire and Multitude). Throughout this discussion we will focus on the development of Negri’s criticism of what he perceives as orthodox Marxism. After that, we will discuss his alternative to historical materialism by looking at salient passages from Empire and Multitude. Negri’s political engagement began with the Catholic Youth Movement, which he left in 1956 to join the Italian Socialist Party. In the mid-60s, Negri began editing the influential journals Quaderni rossi and Classe operaia. Around this time, he became one of the most important figures within Potere Operaio. After the split of Potere Operaio in 1973, Negri became one of the leading figures in a new group called Autonomia Operaia, which emphasised the action of decentralised workers and loose hierarchies, while also putting into doubt some of the ‘Marxist orthodoxy’ of the time. We might take the example of Marx Beyond Marx to show Negri’s increasing scepticism towards Marx’s theory. Negri argues that Marx’s statements in the Grundrisse, could be interpreted as an alternative to the method presented in Capital Volume I. In other words, Negri believes we should re-think Marx through Marx:

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The Marxist method is a constituting one in so far as the class struggle constitutes explosive antagonisms. (…) There is a qualitative leap in the presentation, which does not correspond simply to the unique fact of its determinate synthesis, but corresponds rather to the fact that this determinate synthesis defines for the antagonism and its possibilities-potentialities of explosion, a new level of diffusion, a new terrain of constitution. (…) Our Marxist method, materialist and dialectical, must take into account the resulting modifications and must change accordingly.17 The struggle between capitalists and workers produced a different social order from the one Marx imagined. Throughout this period, Negri argues that Marxists underestimated the collective power of the working classes, and how it forced capitalism to change and adapt. Indeed, Negri gave the working classes a more active historic role than other contemporary critical thinkers. The next stage of Negri’s abandonment of Marx’s historical materialism is perhaps best illustrated through an analysis of his essay ‘Interpretation of the Class Situation Today’. Due to the context of our discussion, we will only address criticisms of Marx’s most basic concepts. The first passages we will discuss present Negri’s critique of Marx’s concept of exploitation. Although we will explain this later by relating it to the notion of surplus accumulation, for now our reader can think of exploitation as work that is performed but not paid (bearing in mind that this is a simplified and temporary definition of the term that can only make sense in the context of capitalism). Negri is sceptical of this notion: The concept of exploitation cannot be made transparent if it is defined in relation to the quantity of labour extorted: in fact, lacking a theory of measure, it is no longer possible to define these quantities. In addition, it is difficult to make the concept of exploitation transparent if we persist in separating, dividing, searching for transcendences or solid points internal to the circulation of social production (…) Therefore, the separateness of the economic, and principally of exploitation, is a mystification of the political, that is, of who has power.18 Although it is difficult to grasp the meaning of Negri’s remarks concerning how exploitation should be conceived (as his writing has now acquired a postmodern obscurity), it appears that Negri is arguing against the separation between the economic and political realms. He believes that exploitation itself (something Marxists view as an economic problem) cannot be separated from the actions of the state and the ideas propagated to justify them. This is because the state imposes the rules that support the logics of economic reproduction. Negri then claims that the political dimension might go as far 17 Negri, A. (1991) pp. 13–14. 18 Negri, A. (1992) pp. 73–74.

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as to ‘absorb’ the economic. This could perhaps be a reference to Negri’s idea that we now live in an age of cyclical but permanent economic crises. The state expects these crises and creates different strategies to intervene.19 Negri does a complete U turn when it comes to the revolutionary role of the working classes. Indeed, he announces ‘the end of the centrality of the factory working class as the site of the emergence of revolutionary subjectivity’.20 Unfortunately, I could not grasp the exact political role of the working classes in Negri’s essay. Nevertheless, in vulgar materialist fashion, he claims that: ‘Communism is today the only possible constitution in relation to the development of the mode of production and in the necessity of its unveiling.’21 Perhaps, however, Negri has been right all along and the first step towards communism has already come, only we just failed to notice. The next paragraphs will explore this possibility by discussing his later works. At the beginning of the 21st century, with the publication of the infamous Empire, Negri turned upside down all the arguments we have so far presented. This work, written with Hardt, makes some extravagant claims: One might be tempted to say that proletarian internationalism actually ‘won’ in light of the fact that the powers of nation-states have declined in the recent passage toward globalization and Empire, but that would be a strange and ironic notion of victory.22 Seven years earlier Negri had complained that factory workers had stopped being revolutionary agents, and yet now we are invited to witness their victory as a unitary international power that has led to globalisation and the demise of the state. One wonders how many extraordinary things must have happened between 1993 and 2000 to alter Negri’s assessments in such a way. The state was becoming powerful and intrusive some years ago, and yet now its power has suddenly declined.23 As we will see, Negri and Hardt believe that the current order, instead of being resisted, should be embraced, as it contains revolutionary potential. We will come back to Negri’s and Hardt’s claims regarding the international order shortly. Let us now focus on the criticisms of Marx presented in Empire and Multitude: Marx tried to understand the continuity of the cycle of proletarian struggles that were emerging in nineteenth-century Europe in terms of a mole and its subterranean tunnels. Marx’s mole would surface in times of open class conflict and then retreat underground again. (…) Well, we 19 20 21 22 23

Ibid., pp. 88–89. Ibid., p. 69. Ibid., p. 104. Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2000) p. 50. Ibid., p. xi.

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suspect that Marx’s old mole has finally died. It seems to us, in fact, that in the contemporary passage to Empire, the structured tunnels of the mole have been replaced by the infinite undulations of the snake.24 We assure our readers that Marx never speaks of moles, despite what Negri and Hardt claim. This criticism is aimed at the assumption of a constant struggle between capitalists and workers. Even though we might not witness this (e.g., see no strikes/protests), this conflict is assumed to be ongoing insofar as capitalists and workers have conflicting interests (the capitalist wants to pay the worker as little as possible, while the worker has an interest in higher wages). This underlying conflict is depicted by Negri and Hardt as a mole building tunnels throughout the years, and only coming to the surface when the time is right (I assume this refers to organised/revolutionary struggle). The authors then argue that Marx’s mole is dead and replaced by the snake (an unpredictable beast expressing the postmodern ‘difference’). In non-metaphorical language, Negri and Hardt believe that economic class struggle is not important anymore, as more conflicts are surfacing in the current globalised world. We should thus pay attention to those new global acts of resistance and throw the story of class struggle into the dustbin of history: ‘The depths of the modern world and its subterranean passageways have in postmodernity all become superficial’.25 The reasons behind this abandonment of the industrial working class as a revolutionary group are developed in Multitude: The contemporary scene of labor and production (…) is being transformed under the hegemony of immaterial labor, that is, labor that produces immaterial products, such as information, knowledges, ideas, images, relationships, and affects. This does not mean that there is no more industrial working class whose calloused hands toil with machines (…) In fact, workers involved primarily in immaterial production are a small minority of the global whole. What it means, rather, is that the qualities and characteristics of immaterial production are tending to transform the other forms of labor and indeed society as a whole. (…) There is one tendency, for example, in various forms of immaterial labor to blur the distinction between work time and nonwork time, extending the working day indefinitely to fill all of life, and another tendency for immaterial labor to function without stable long-term contracts.26 Then, we have the accusation of teleology27 along with claims of eurocentrism: ‘Marx can conceive of history outside of Europe only as moving strictly along the path already travelled by Europe itself ’.28 24 25 26 27 28

Ibid., p. 57. Ibid. Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2004) pp. 65–66. Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2000) p. 64. Ibid., p. 120.

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Why another Marxist theory of ideology? Furthermore: The very qualities of labor power (difference, measure, and determination) can no longer be grasped, and similarly, exploitation can no longer be localized and quantified. In effect, the object of exploitation and domination tend not to be specific productive activities but the universal capacity to produce, that is, abstract social activity and its comprehensive power.29

Negri and Hardt appear to be saying that now exploitation occurs not through actual labour performed, but through the ‘universal capacity to produce’. However, it is not clear how our capacities can be exploited if they are not employed. In Multitude, Negri and Hardt develop their critique of the Marxist concept of class by arguing that the old distinction between economic and political struggles becomes merely an obstacle to understanding class relations. Class is really a biopolitical concept that is at once economic and political. When we say biopolitical, furthermore, this also means that our understanding of labor cannot be limited to waged labor but must refer to human creative capacities in all their generality. The poor, as we will argue, are thus not excluded from this conception of class but central to it.30 In other words, Negri and Hardt want to replace the notion of economic class with the broader notion of people possessing creative capacities in general. In this way, even the unemployed ‘poor’ (I assume that they are referring to unemployed individuals, as opposed to the working classes living in poverty) can be part of our analysis. Because of this shift, the revolutionary group of this new global world order should be conceived as the multitude: The concept of multitude, then, is meant in one respect to demonstrate that a theory of economic class need not choose between unity and plurality. A multitude is an irreducible multiplicity; the singular social differences that constitute the multitude must always be expressed and can never be flattened into sameness, unity, identity, or indifference.31 This multitude is meant to ‘repropose Marx’s political project of class struggle’ even though Negri and Hardt reject the concept of class. Although they (at least) acknowledge the existence of certain ‘common conditions of those who can become the multitude’, ‘the innumerable, specific types of labor, forms of 29 Ibid., p. 209. 30 Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2004) p. 105. 31 Ibid.

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life, and geographical location’ they insist that those factors ‘do not prohibit communication and collaboration in a common political project’.32 To fully understand the multitude’s origins and its political role, we must now discuss the concept of Empire. The notion expresses a new ‘new global form of sovereignty’33 developed in response to globalisation and declining states’ power. Empire has the following characteristics: 1 2 3 4

‘A lack of boundaries: Empire’s rule has no limits (…). No territorial boundaries limit its reign’. ‘Empire presents its rule (…) as a regime with no temporal boundaries and in this sense outside of history or at the end of history’ ‘The rule of Empire operates on all registers of the social order extending down to the depths of the social world’ ‘Although the practice of Empire is continually bathed in blood, the concept of Empire is always dedicated to peace – a perpetual and universal peace outside of history’.34

Interestingly, Negri’s and Hardt’s characterisation of Empire is strikingly similar to definitions of globalisation presented by neo-liberal thinkers. Indeed, there is no distinction between globalisation and Empire in the text. The two appear to be the same thing. Furthermore, Negri and Hardt deny that there is a ‘centre’ to this Empire. They reject the idea that globalisation is a process dominated by the US and allied Western powers. The only privilege of the US is linked to its constitution,35 which is asserted by Empire in its attempts to bring peace and resolve conflicts.36 Although Negri and Hardt do no deny that this Empire, despite its looseness, is still characterised by hierarchies and asymmetrical relations of power, they nevertheless praise its revolutionary potential. Indeed, it is the logics of Empire that produced the multitude, whose task is that of creating a ‘counter-Empire’: The passage to Empire and its processes of globalization offer new possibilities to the forces of liberation. (…) Our political task (…) is not simply to resist these processes but to reorganise them and redirect them toward new ends. The creative forces of the multitude that sustain Empire are also capable of autonomously constructing a counter-Empire, an alternative political organization.37 Now that we have explained Negri’s criticisms of Marx and his most recent methodological position through a reading of Empire and Multitude, we can assess his 32 33 34 35 36 37

Ibid., pp. 105–106. Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2000) p. xii. Ibid., pp. xiv – xv. Ibid., p. xiv. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., p. xv.

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claims. Let me begin by saying that, despite all its changes, Negri’s standpoint has remained very consistent throughout his career. Indeed, from his early works, he asserted that although Marx was to be taken as inspiration, the concepts he presented were to be constantly changed and re-examined due to the development of capitalism. Therefore, from the point of view of consistency, Negri’s shifts are justified by his general assumptions. However, that is not to say that his claims are sound and can withstand critical scrutiny. Let us begin from his early criticisms of Marxist orthodoxy. It is perhaps the case that some currents of Marxism have underestimated the role of the working classes in the development of capitalism. This is not, however, true of Marx himself, who always postulated a relationship of mutual influence between capitalists and workers. Thus, there is nothing particularly new in Negri’s emphasis on workers’ struggles against capital. Indeed, due to his sole focus on this struggle, he ends up ignoring the more active efforts of capitalists or their competition with one another (which are both very important elements in determining capitalism’s development). Negri’s ‘Marx beyond Marx’ is a one-sided and reductionist Marx. The more substantive revision presented in Open Marxism makes even less sense. Although we must acknowledge that economic exploitation is always accompanied by the state’s coercive force and its protection of private property, to say that economic exploitation is now impossible to analyse due to the increasing power of the state, seems an absurd statement. The state has a central role in supressing dissent, strikes, protests, etc. However, we might call that repression or domination. Why call it exploitation? Why should it be impossible to conceptually separate state action from capitalist production and exploitation? Is there anything to be gained by ignoring this distinction? Even in cases (e.g., the Soviet Union) where the state is responsible for both coercion and the organisation of production, we can still talk of the state as having two (mutually necessary and yet distinct) roles. Let us now discuss the arguments presented by Negri and Hardt in Empire and Multitude. Although we have seen that in his essay for Open Marxism Negri is quite pessimistic in relation to the working classes’ revolutionary role, in Empire he claims that globalisation has occurred as a response to an internationally united working-class struggle. Hence, Negri’s trademark reductionism (everything is caused by the working classes’ struggles) is already back (with a postmodern twist). Perhaps, Negri’s and Hardt’s argument would make some sense if they talked of ‘local’ working classes. Indeed, one could claim (although this would be a one-sided analysis) that what led Western capital to move towards East Asia and Africa was the fact that, due to the power of unions and the advances made by working classes in the West, wages were now too high to justify domestic investment. It made sense to look for cheap labour elsewhere. However, if we are speaking of an ‘international working class’ then it is truly difficult to grasp what the thinkers might mean. What kind of international united working class would welcome sweat shops, ludicrously low wages and poor working conditions? Is this what the working classes have been demanding, according to Negri and Hardt?

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I also believe that the emphasis on immaterial and intellectual labour is not justifiable. Why should we give primacy to this when all immaterial labour rests on material labour? The fact that due to the technological development an increasing number of works can be carried out from home, does not seem enough. After all, intellectuals have always worked at home. I do not think what is happening is so radically different from the past to warrant the methodological shift. In my view, material labour holds its primacy precisely because of how technology is allowing all those new forms of digital production. Take away the products of material labour and you will have nothing but your own nakedness. Although I do not deny the revolutionary role of immaterial labour, we must bear in mind its reliance on material objects, and all the relations that bring them to us as articles of consumption. Another related issue I have with Negri’s and Hardt’s analysis is their refusal to acknowledge the capital/labour relation when they talk of the production of immaterial labour. This economic relation still operates in most realms of production (whether material or not). This is indeed the same logic that leads to the dreaded circumstances they describe, where intellectuals ‘become subject in a way to the command of the boss’ and ‘often experience new and intense forms of violation or alienation’.38 Why make all this the fault of a gigantic Empire? I also have issues with their account of Empire’s birth resulting from the declining power of states. To speak of the decline of the state conforms to neo-liberal thought. However, such statement is an oversimplification and much debate exists surrounding the role of the state within the globalised economy. Indeed, the more sophisticated accounts do not talk of strengthening or weakening, but rather transformation. To speak of the state as changing (without giving up its interventionist role in some matters) would also have been more compatible with what Negri claimed in previous works. We have seen that Empire is characterised as limitless (without boundaries), presents itself as timeless, enters all fabrics of society, and wants to spread peace and avoid conflict. The reader might wonder how we can identify something so abstract and yet having all these functions. Well, there is something that does all this, and it has been already discussed several times: capital. Indeed, all the features which Negri and Hardt attribute to their elusive Empire, can be attributed to capital. What characterises the present global order is a limitless mobility of capital, which can be invested in anything and anywhere in a split second. Capital is also what digs through the fabrics of a society by turning cultural practices and artisanal production into profit-oriented industries. What is more timeless than money and its power to control labour? It is capital that needs order and peace. Unless we speak of the arms industry, war disrupts profit-making enterprises. Although it is coalitions of nations that try to resolve conflicts through humanitarian 38 Negri, A. and Hardt, M. (2004) pp. 65–66.

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interventions, ultimately, the capitalist system does not produce any incentive for states to accumulate resources through military means. War is something for extreme circumstances. Resources can be appropriated from home. They are just a click away if you own capital. So why did Negri and Hardt decide to speak of Empire instead of transnational capital? That is because, as we have seen, they reject any distinction between economics, society and politics. Therefore, they need a concept that can somehow take all those aspects and mash them into one. Ultimately, they could not just repeat what Marxists have been saying for centuries and had to come up with something more extravagant. The problem with the concept of Empire is not solely its vagueness and obscurity, but also the fact that, despite being less than 20 years old, it is already outdated. Indeed, with the rise of nationalism, far-right groups and protectionism across countries, can we still speak of a unified peace-seeking Empire? Has not the present period highlighted the conflict between domestic economies/nation-states and international competition/multi-national corporations? The unity the concept of Empire entails is no longer tenable, and as Negri and Hardt refuse to acknowledge any distinction between politics and economics, they are deprived of the theoretical instruments necessary to even begin to grasp our current condition and its political manifestations. Let us now discuss Negri’s and Hardt’s revolutionary class: the multitude of indefinable, non-homogenous difference. The idea of a new multitude created by Empire having a revolutionary role also seems eccentric. First, the group actually has a homogenous characteristic: its resistance against the Empire. But what is this resistance exactly? And how can we argue that it is directed against the Empire? This could only be possible if all the members of this multitude had read Empire, found it convincing, and began to organise against it. In other words, unless the multitude knows and understands the concept of Empire, how can we meaningfully say they struggle against it? Furthermore, this emphasis on international communication, coordination, and resistance completely forgets that the internet has also brought us a revival and growth of the most vicious political groups. It appears as if Negri and Hardt only consider the internet when it is used for resistance, without considering its role in the rise of terrorist groups, or that technology has been used by states to censor speech or surveil the population. Furthermore, the process of political fragmentation brought about by the exponential increase in news outlets (whether legit or fake) poses an enormous obstacle to any unified global action against the international order. Finally, we are witnessing a resurge of localism and nationalism and so it appears that the ‘common things’ and experiences that for Negri and Hardt should not matter so much represent a greater obstacle to international action than the authors could ever have anticipated. For all these reasons, I am not at all convinced by Negri’s and Hardt’s late works, and I do not think they bring anything new or useful to our methodological table.

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Žižek Although Marx’s concepts are often employed by Žižek, his relationship to Marx is ambiguous. Indeed, Žižek sometimes describes himself as a Hegelian. This shift towards Hegel is justified by his pessimism and critical attitude towards vulgar Marxist materialism postulating revolution and communism as inevitable due to capitalism’s own logic. Orthodox Marxists refuse any solution to particular problems. Only revolution and communism can bring meaningful change. All particularistic solutions would entail admitting that class conflict is inevitable. Even in his early work, The Sublime Object of Ideology, Žižek insists that this conflict is best grasped by reference to Hegel: My thesis (…) is that the most consistent model of such an acknowledgement of antagonism is offered by Hegelian dialectics: far from being a story of its progressive overcoming, dialectics is for Hegel a systematic notation of the failure of all such attempts.39 Žižek’s methodology is a mix of Marxist and Hegelian concepts combined with Lacanian psychoanalysis. This shift towards psychoanalysis was to ‘explain the unconscious libidinal mechanisms which were preventing the rise of class consciousness’ and save ‘the truth of Marxist socio-economic analysis’.40 Since working classes failed to unite as Marx predicted, we must explain their acceptance of the socio-economic order. Although Žižek is generally well-disposed towards classical Marxist categories, he still holds some reservations towards the idea that economics and politics can be separated and, at the same time, be understood in connection to one another: There is no relationship between economy and politics, no ‘meta-language’ enabling us to grasp the two levels from the same neutral standpoint, although – or, rather, because – these two levels are inextricably intertwined. The ‘political’ class struggle takes place in the midst of the economy (…) while, at the same time, the domain of economy serves as the key that enables us to decode political struggles. (…) First, we have to progress from the political spectacle to its economic infrastructure; then, in the second step, we have to confront the irreducible dimension of the political struggle at the very heart of the economy.41 Marx’s analysis implies a collapse of this distinction. First, the properly political struggle (I assume Žižek here means politics in the sense of collective organised action or/and state politics) can be better grasped by relating it to the economic realm. After that we are then confronted with another political 39 Žižek, S. (2008) xxix. 40 Žižek, S. (2009) p. 89. 41 Žižek, S. (2006) p. 320.

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situation, this time within the economy: class struggle. How can we distinguish the economy from politics if both are conceived as realms of struggle? It appears that, except for the above problem, Žižek does not criticise Marx. Indeed, one might (rightly) argue that even this criticism is not directed at Marx (whose statements on the matter, as we will see, are cryptic and ambiguous) but certain interpretations of his thought.42 The aim of this subsection will be to assess whether Žižek’s decision to abandon classical Marxist concepts and substitute them with Hegelian/Lacanian ones, as the central pillars of his own brand of historical materialism (which he calls ‘dialectical materialism’43) can be justified. Žižek’s decision to come back to Hegel seems to be partly motivated by the situation of socialists today , who are faced with the atrocious crimes of regimes brandishing their own banner. Žižek explains that Hegel faced a similar context during the French Terror: At this moment, the Hegelian problem is that of how to remain faithful to the original goal of the (re)solution and refuse to revert to a conservative position, how to discern the (re)solution in and through the very failure of the first attempt to actualize it.44 Marx was mistaken to think that capitalism had, within itself, the potential for a higher form of society. Žižek argues that ‘if we remove the obstacle, the very potential thwarted by the obstacle is dissipated’.45 In other words, Žižek is asking the uncomfortable (yet important) question: what if that which produces the dynamism and technological development we cherish, is also what produces exploitation, poverty and inequality? What if the two are inseparable? A central concept that Žižek proposes as a methodological reaction to the failed promises of communist regimes is that of ‘absolute recoil’: The radical coincidence of opposites in which the action appears as its own counter – action, or, more precisely, in which the negative move (loss, withdrawal) itself generates what it ‘negates.’ ‘What is found only comes to be through being left behind,’ and its inversion (it is ‘only in the return itself ’ that what we return to emerges, like nations who constitute themselves by way of ‘returning to their lost roots’) are the two sides of what Hegel calls ‘absolute reflection’: a reflection which is no longer external to its object, presupposing it as given, but which, as it were, closes the loop and posits its own presupposition.46 42 Žižek might be showing disapproval for the systems (such as the one presented here) that try to construct historical materialism by using the base/superstructure dichotomy. 43 Note that Žižek distinguishes between the two. See Žižek, S. (2006) pp. 5–7. 44 Žižek, S. (2014) p. 37. 45 Ibid., p. 38. 46 Ibid., p. 149.

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According to Žižek, any action carries within itself something it negates, that is left behind, some original thing that the action has transformed. We then long for this original condition, which we strive to bring back. Humans always seek comfort in the idea of a return to some lost origin. The origin does not need to exist; it is its loss and our bringing the past back that matters. Nevertheless, history is far from linear. Although this tendency towards the search for some lost harmony exists, this search is never previously determined, and even if it carries the symbols of the past, it is always brought anew, in a manner which might be completely unpredictable. While Žižek’s understanding of history is mostly inspired by Hegel, his analysis of capitalism and consumer culture (which one might say is Žižek’s focus) is influenced by Lacan and Freud. The following passages are taken from Žižek’s discussion of what he calls ‘cultural capitalism’: We primarily buy commodities neither on account of their utility nor as status symbols; we buy them to get the experience provided by them, we consume them in order to render our lives pleasurable and meaningful. This triad cannot but evoke the Lacanian triad RSI: the Real of direct utility (good healthy food, the quality of a car, etc.), the Symbolic of the status (I buy a certain car to signal my status – the Thorstein Veblen perspective), the Imaginary of pleasurable and meaningful experience. (…) Consumption is supposed to sustain the quality of life, its time should be ‘quality time’ not the time of alienation, of imitating models imposed by society.47 We will now turn to Žižek’s criticisms of the Marxist tradition and his alternative. Žižek’s problem with the teleological interpretation of Marx’s thought (capitalism will inevitably bring communism) is, of course, something we agree with (as previously discussed with regard to Adorno and Horkheimer). Although I agree that within the economy there is a political aspect of struggle between classes, ultimately I think that its distinction from state politics should be kept anyway. The logics of one individual pressing the boss for higher wages, organised trade unions fighting for the same thing and political parties promising to bring higher wages, appear to me to be different. Indeed, if we are convinced that these things are connected, then we should reject their conflation, so that we can try to articulate their relationship in an intelligible manner. As we have seen, Žižek’s adoption of Hegel to create a methodology for the study of history is justified by his rejection of vulgar Marxist teleology. However, why go back to Hegel when we could try to reinterpret Marx in a way that avoids teleology and tries to account for indeterminacy and unpredictability? Žižek himself acknowledges that ‘the fate of whole swathes of the population and sometimes whole countries can be decided by the “solipsistic” speculative dance of Capital’.48 Then why not reevaluate the 47 Žižek, S. (2009) p. 53. 48 Žižek, S. (2012) p. 244.

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classical Marxist concepts? Especially since the Hegelian system is itself teleological (as Žižek admits). Why could Hegelianism (and not Marxism) be fixed? Although I find Žižek’s idea of radical recoil interesting and I admit that it could be a useful methodology to analyse the motives, grievances, and aims of political movements or culture in general (especially as this ‘lost origins’ idea is becoming increasingly popular today), this alone cannot be taken as a framework expressing the totality Žižek wishes to convey. Indeed, where is the materialism in Žižek’s method? Why the emphasis on the Hegelian side, and no reference to its relationship to underlying economic production? Indeed, Žižek did not realise that one important factor that makes this return to the origins always new and unpredictable, might also be technological development. Furthermore, there is always novelty in history, but certain relations and social practices repeat themselves and are to an extent predictable. Cannot we predict, with absolute certainty, that for the world to continue to exist in its current form, more capital will have to be invested and more labour employed? Although Žižek’s contribution could perhaps add to the Marxist arsenal, his refusal to engage with the economic question in relation to historical development is a serious mistake, especially as Žižek recognises the importance of the inner workings of capitalism and Marx’s ingenious grasp of its logics. Although I can appreciate the insights psychoanalysis can provide when studying individuals’ relation to consumption, enjoyment, and repression, I believe that this analysis should be placed on a solid materialist base that only Marx’s key concepts can provide. Overall, although I am not sympathetic towards Žižek’s methodological enterprise, some of his concepts are certainly useful. Furthermore, one must give him credit for having the honesty to ask some difficult questions it would be convenient for socialist thinkers to avoid (such as whether we can have innovation without exploitative capitalist logics). Open Marxism Our last subsection discusses the Open Marxism tendency. Since we are dealing with a loose intellectual current composed by heterogeneous authors, the structure of this subsection will be different. It would be impossible to explain the various methodologies and key concepts proposed by the writers involved in the three volumes of Open Marxism. Therefore, we will begin by providing a rough outline of the key features characterising this intellectual current, and then we will look at the various criticisms its thinkers level against historical materialism. As the introduction to the first volume of Open Marxism explains, it was built as a response to the failures of Althusserian Marxism, but also against the ‘scientism’ presented by Marxists who attempt to mix Marxist concepts with positivism and rational choice theory.49 Instead, (as we might expect) they propose to interpret Marx while keeping a certain ‘openness’: 49 Bonefield, W., Gunn, R., and Psychopedis, K. (1992) pp. ix – xi.

Why another Marxist theory of ideology?

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‘Openness’, here, refers not just to a programme of empirical research – which can elide all too conveniently with positivism – but to the openness of Marxist categories themselves. This openness appears in, for instance, a dialectic of subject and object, of form and content, of theory and practice, of the constitution and reconstitution of categories in and through the development, always crisis-ridden, of a social world. Crisis refers to contradiction, and to contradiction’s movement: this movement underpins, and undermines, the fixity of structuralist and teleologicaldeterminist Marxism alike. (…) Crisis, understood as a category of contradiction, entails not just danger but opportunity.50 In other words, they propose to interpret Marx’s categories in a nondeterministic way. This openness also characterises their understanding of the subject/object, form/content and theory/practice dichotomies. Crises should not be understood as predetermined events producing predictable consequences. Even within crises, chances for change might occur. Like all the authors discussed in this chapter, Open Marxists reject teleological theories: ‘Instead of the theoretical certainty of a Marxism of dogmatic closure, open Marxism reclaims the incompleteness of the process of thinking and readopts the unpredictability of the “legitimation of chance” i.e. the unpredictability of the movement of class struggle’.51 Although class struggle remains central to Open Marxists’ methodology, they emphasise its role in altering society. This understanding of society ‘implies the incompleteness of categories as the social development appears in various forms and within changing empirical circumstance’.52 While this is not explicitly stated within the introduction, the essays presented in the three volumes clearly indicate that Open Marxists reject historical materialism. Indeed, Open Marxists believe that only Marx’s critique of political economy can be saved, and its concepts (understood ‘openly’) employed to grasp reality. The materialist theory of history should be abandoned. Now that we have provided a brief overview of Open Marxism’s methodology, let us turn to its critique of historical materialism and ‘classical Marxism’. One of the most interesting critiques of historical materialism is presented by Gerstenberger: The path has been opened for the recognition that the last remnants of any general historical ‘law’ must be smashed: the assumption that in all societies in which class relations can be found class struggle constitutes the decisive dynamic element.53

50 51 52 53

Ibid., p. xi. Ibid., p. xii. Ibid. Gerstenberger, H. (1992) p. 155.

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Although classes have existed throughout history, perhaps their struggle has only become central to historical development under capitalism. In other words, we should not assume this centrality when studying other periods. To illustrate this, Gerstenberger takes the example of feudal societies and explains how, beyond the class relationships between landlord and peasants (which tends to be the focus of Marxist studies), ‘extra-class’ military competition between lords played a decisive role in shaping historical development. Gerstenberger gives the following justification for speaking of ‘extra-class’: This regular form of feudal exploitation, which was preferably, though never exclusively, practised outside one’s own range of domination, might be characterised as an extra-class form of appropriation. (This characterisation limits the notion of class to social practices which are regularised by custom so that the sheer use of force becomes a means of upholding or changing them).54 Because of this reasoning, Gerstenberger rejects the transhistorical primacy given to classes by Marx, but also the related concept of mode of production. Although we will discuss this second concept in more depth later on (pp. 94–100), the reader can think of this as the way in which a society reproduces itself on an economic level (this includes an analysis of a society’s levels of technological advancement combined with the most prominent relations between classes). According to Marx, modes of production evolve and change throughout history. Approximately, he distinguishes between the ancient mode of production, the feudal mode of production, the (controversial) Asiatic mode of production, and finally the capitalist mode of production. Coming back to our text, Gerstenberger rejects the concept on the following grounds: I would hold that historical dynamics of pre-capitalist societies cannot sufficiently be grasped by means of any mode-of production concept. In pre-bourgeois societies, appropriation is not practised outside the realm of personal domination; class struggles do not occur as such; but as struggles over the exercise of personal domination, over its forms and its range (the latter including the extent of exploitation), neither is there any economic sphere separated off from personal domination, nor any impersonal structure of domination)’.55 Another criticism of historical materialism comes from Holloway, who attacks Marxists trying to take a positivist façade by postulating the existence of objective economic laws:

54 Ibid., p. 157. 55 Ibid., p. 161.

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In so far as ‘science’ is identified with objectivity, scientific analysis gives priority to the second term of each of the pairs: to contradiction, structure, objective laws of development, economics, capital the cool appraisal of objective reality. Marxist theorists have generally understood their contribution to struggle to be the analysis of the objective of the contradictions of capitalism.56 Holloway’s criticism is similar to the arguments presented by Negri in Marx Beyond Marx. Holloway accuses this positivistic brand of Marxism of ignoring the effects of capitalist accumulation on the workers, the way this shapes their ‘subjectivity’, and how their resistance contributes in determining the development of capitalism.57 Furthermore, he argues that: ‘A distinction between economics and struggle is taken as given, as is also a distinction between economics and politics’.58 Holloway attacks what he perceives as a mechanistic dualism. Tired of theories presenting dichotomies, he argues that any distinctions between class struggle and social relations in general should be rejected: The separation between social relations and struggle can only be overcome by seeing that the social relations of capitalism are inherently antagonistic, inherently conflictive, that all social relations within capitalism are relations of class struggle. To speak of the totality as a totality of social relations is to speak of it as a totality of antagonistic social relations (class struggle).59 In other words, the analysis of social totality60 (that is society seen as a whole, what we might call a ‘macro-perspective’), is only truly possible once we acknowledge that all relations within capitalism are antagonistic and part of the broader process of class struggle. Instead of those distinctions (economics/politics or class relations/ social relations) which are, arguably, characteristic of classical Marxism, he proposes the following methodology emphasising the role of work: ‘From the pivotal concept of work, as practical (and theoretical) subjectivity, as “simplest determination”, it becomes possible to recompose society, to retrace the process of the objectification of the subject, the existence of the subject as object’.61 Let us assess those criticisms beginning with Gerstenberger. Although his arguments seem coherent, they do not withstand critical scrutiny as he falls victim to the very criticism he is trying to direct towards classical Marxism. Gerstenberger argues that classes have not always been central because of 56 57 58 59 60

Holloway, J. (1995) p. 160. Ibid., p. 161–163. Ibid., p. 160. Ibid., p. 167. Which appears to be the methodological focus of most writers contributing to Open Marxism. 61 Ibid., p. 173.

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the ‘extra-class’ coercion and force which was employed in earlier societies, to accumulate resources and increase the exploitation of subordinate groups. However, this claim is problematic. Why are coercion and force considered ‘extra-class’? Gerstenberger argues that the characterisation of class only involves ‘social practices which are regularised by custom’, while force destroys established social practices. But then, within the same sentence Gerstenberger claims that this is the ‘regular form of feudal exploitation’.62 And so, one wonders, if this is the way in which feudal lords carry out their exploitation, how is this something that destroys custom? Is not this military competition itself a custom? In other words, if this is the general way in which feudal lords exploit, then this should be considered as part of the class logics of that period. It might be a practice that tends to destroy other practices, but it could still be classed as one of that society’s customs. Then one realises that Gerstenberger is the one guilty of a-historical thinking. His notion of ‘extra-class’ only functions if our point of departure for the concept is the capitalist/labour relation. Indeed, if we think of class in terms of groups that engage in free exchange with one another (like under capitalism, where workers exchange their labour for wages), then any coercion or force is perceived as something going beyond the economic realm. In short, as Gerstenberger puts it, extra-class coercion. However, this entails a definition of class that is a-historical and takes capitalism as the point of reference. If we take the most basic definition of class (which Gerstenberger himself employs63), then we will recognise that throughout history classes have exploited the labour of others by different means. Indeed, force and coercion were the most prominent methods until the rise of capitalism. They should be conceived as parts of the logics of one class’s domination over another, as well as inter-class competition (e.g., among lords themselves). Therefore, although Gerstenberger tries to argue against the notion of class on the grounds that it is a-historical, for his own argument to work, he creates the ‘extra-class’ notion which relies on an a-historical definition of class by reference to the current capitalist/class relation. The Marxist notion of class does not exclude coercion and force as elements within its reproduction. What classes do depends on the historic period and its logics of exploitation; to already postulate how classes are supposed to behave (no force/coercion) by reference to capitalism, is the most obvious example of ahistorical thinking. The same argument can also be made against Gerstenberger’s rejection of the concept of mode of production on the grounds that in pre-capitalist societies economic exploitation did not entail objective relations of exchange between classes, but rather personal domination. Again, the fact that previous modes of production worked through relations of personal domination does not mean that the concept of mode production cannot account for this 62 Gerstenberger, H. (1992) p. 157. 63 Ibid., p. 155.

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difference (indeed, Marx discusses the distinction between pre-capitalist personal domination and commodity exchange throughout his works). In my opinion, the mode of production can only be a problem insofar as it simplifies the fundamental class relations within a historic period, without acknowledging other forms of production which might be present. However, most Marxist writers (especially historians) do not ignore the nuances of each historical context. The concept of mode of production serves only to create a very rough and simplified initial framework, that must be further developed through the analysis of the historic period. Let us now turn to Holloway’s criticisms. Holloway’s first argument against objectivistic conceptions of Marxism has already been dealt with in our section on Negri (p. 22). Holloway’s subsequent decision to abandon the economics/politics distinction appears to me very problematic. As I argued earlier, if one conflates the two, then one is essentially deprived of the possibility of defining economic struggles and political struggles, which is, in my opinion, essential if we are to understand how the two connect to one another. In other words, if economy and politics are the same thing, how can one explain their relationship? The very means (defining the two realms) of doing so are destroyed before we even begin. Holloway’s decision to reduce all social relations to antagonistic class relations is also problematic. I agree that within the reproduction of capitalism conflict between capital and labour is inevitable. However, production also entails cooperation (within the firm, and between firms through exchange), and so to reduce everything to conflict would give us a one-sided view on the workings of capitalism. This is not to say that conflict is not central, but rather that a creative and cooperative aspect also exists through the reproduction of antagonistic class logics, and this side should not be ignored. Indeed, Holloway goes as far as to say that all social relations are antagonistic and part of a broader class struggle. But would not this entail a reductionist view of the matter? Is this not vulgar economic determinism? If by social relations (Holloway does not provide a definition) we mean relations between people (which would include friendship, love, kinship, etc.), how can we reduce this to class antagonism? Finally, Holloway’s own methodology is ill-suited for its aim of conceptualising the ‘totality’. Although I agree that an analysis of work in its subjective dimension is an important element to discuss when studying social reality, how can we understand the ‘whole’ simply by appeal to subjectivity? Is this not a Marxian version of methodological individualism? The great advance brought by Marx was the creation of broad concepts such as class, exploitation, productive force,s etc, which made it possible to study society from a holistic perspective. To abandon them and focus exclusively on the subjective perspective, is to take a step backwards towards the Enlightenment’s obsession with individuals. This appears to me the case even if the focus is not on freedom and choice (as with classic Liberal theory) but the process of subjectivation by social structures.

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Why Marx? 2 (post-Marxist criticisms and alternatives) Castoriadis Castoriadis’ early attraction to Marxist thought was motivated by a ‘very strong feeling about the absurdity and injustice of the existing state of affairs’.64 His political involvement with communist parties began in 1937 when he joined the Athenian Communist Youth, and he progressed to become a member of the Communist Party of Greece in 1941. As Memos explains, Throughout this early period in Greece, Castoriadis not only had unique practical-political experience but he obtained a very strong flavour of the vulgar, codified and mechanistic Marxism of the Greek Communist movement. (…). Economism, determinism and many aspects of the mechanistic and instrumental materialism that characterized the theory and practice of the Greek Communist movement derived from that period.65 Christos Memos argues that this vulgar Marxism, combined with Castoriadis’ education at the University of Athens, made Castoriadis increasingly sceptical of the Soviet orthodoxy.66 Indeed, he left the Greek Communist Party after a year, and founded various Trotskyist movements. His commitment to a Trotskyist reading of Marx continued even after he moved to Paris, where he joined the Fourth International. However, Castoriadis eventually became increasingly sceptical of Trotskyism too, and by 1948, he had abandoned the Fourth International to found a new movement (along with his fellow dissenter Lefort) called the Socialisme Ou Barbarie, which began publishing in 1949. The thrust of the group was to be critical of both capitalism and the atrocities committed by the Soviet Union. Castoriadis’ critical gaze, which started by attacking orthodox Marxism, then moved him to a rejection of Trotskyism, eventually led him to attack Marx himself, resulting in the dissolution of Socialisme Ou Barbarie. Indeed, as Dick Howard puts it, The last five issues of Socialisme ou Barbarie were largely filled by a long critical analysis of the achievement and limitations of Marx written by Castoriadis under the title ‘Marxism and Revolutionary Theory’. (…) The immediate result of Castoriadis’ critique was the dissolution of the group and its journal.67

64 65 66 67

Castoriadis, C. (1990) p. 35. Memos, C. (2014) p. 11. Ibid., p. 14. Klooger, J. and Howard, D. (2009) p. xii.

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The criticisms presented in ‘Marxism and Revolutionary Theory’ were later integrated in Castoriadis’ The Imaginary Institution of Society where after rejecting Marx’s doctrine, he constructs his alternative method. The following discussion will mostly focus on this text. We will begin by addressing Castoriadis’ critique of Marx, and then move onto a brief overview of his brand of social theory. Note that Castoriadis presents a great array of criticisms, and the most sophisticated are aimed at Marx’s concepts and their implications. Since at this stage we have not explained those terms, we will focus on arguments against the theory in general. Castoriadis opens his discussion of Marxism by pointing out the ‘enormous range’ of different and conflicting readings of historical materialism.68 Although Castoriadis is aware of the various misreading and vulgarisation of Marx’s philosophy, along with the way in which it was turned into an ideology justifying totalitarianism69, his answer to the problem is not that of going back to what Marx originally said, because: To say that being Marxist is being faithful to the method of Marx which continues to be true, is to say that nothing in the content of the history of the past 100 years either authorizes us or compels us to put Marx’s categories into question, that everything can be understood by means of his method.70 Indeed, Castoriadis perceives historical materialism to be an outdated framework. His first line of criticism has to do with Marx’s prediction that capitalism will always encounter inevitable crises of overproduction, decline in the rate of profit, and produce the pauperisation of the proletariat. Castoriadis argues that the past 100 years have shown that Marx’s predictions to be wrong. Thus, he concludes that: Marx’s economic theory is tenable neither in its premises, nor in its method, nor in its structure. Briefly, the theory as such ‘ignores’ the action of social classes. It ‘ignores’ the effect of class struggles on the redistribution of the social product and through this, necessarily, on all aspects of the economy, in particular on the constant expansion of the market for consumer goods. It ‘ignores’ the effect of the progressive organization of the capitalist class, aimed precisely at dominating the ‘spontaneous’ tendencies of the economy. This derives from its basic premise: in the capitalist economy, individuals, whether proletarians or capitalists, are actually and wholly transformed into things, i.e. reified; they are submitted to the action of economic laws that differ in no way from natural laws, except that they use the ‘conscious’ actions of individuals as the unconscious instrument of their realization.71 68 69 70 71

Castoriadis, C. (2005) p. 9. Ibid., p. 11. Ibid., p. 14. Ibid., p. 16.

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In other words, Marx’s economic analysis ignores the role of class struggle, and creates a ‘reified’ understanding of the social world, where individuals are reduced to their economic position and their actions are determined by ‘apriori’ objective economic laws. Castoriadis argues that Marx’s historical materialism is inherently dehumanising as it depicts workers as ‘cogs in the machine’.72 Because of their deterministic frameworks, Marxists fail to see that ‘modern capitalism has attempted to adapt itself to historical evolution and to the social struggle and that it has modified itself in consequence’.73 For Castoriadis, the aim of Marxist theory is ‘to reduce this variability, this change, to eliminate them logically, to take them back to the functioning of the same laws’.74 He believes that the central assumptions of historical materialism are that ‘the basic motivations of individuals are, and have always been, the same in all societies’ and that all needs beyond biological ones ‘have been always and everywhere and predominantly, economic needs’.75 Historical materialism is beyond redemption. Indeed, if we were to eliminate the idea that the classes and their actions serve merely as relays, if we admit that ‘self-awareness’ and the activity of classes and of social groups (like that of individuals) give rise to new, unpredetermined, and unpredeterminable elements (…) then we are forced to move outside the classical Marxist schema.76 In other words, if we treat agents as unpredictable beings, we must abandon Marx’s method. Now that we have discussed Castoriadis’ criticisms against historical materialism we will turn to a brief overview of his framework. Castoriadis does not solely reject Marx’s economic determinism but all deterministic explanations of society.77 He also opposes fixed categories and concepts, as their use entails a collapse into ‘the most naive forms of transcendental idealism’.78 Rather than conceiving society as a ‘determinable ensemble of clearly distinct and well-defined elements’, we should conceive it ‘as a magma’ or ‘magma of magmas’. That is, Not chaos but the mode of organization belonging to a non-ensemblist diversity, exemplified by society, the imaginary or the unconscious. In order to speak of it, which we can do only in the existing social language, we unavoidably call upon the terms of ensemblist legein, such as one and many, part and whole, composition and inclusion. These terms, however, function 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Ibid. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p. p. p.

30. 69. 25. 32. 29. 12.

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here only as markers, not as genuine categories. For there are no transregional categories: the rule of connection dictated by a category is empty if that which is to be connected in this way is not taken into account.79 Castoriadis seems to propose a category which is not a category, because standard categories diminish the diversity and complexity of society. In fact, what Castoriadis means by ensemblist ‘is thought of as an ensemble of distinct and well-defined elements, referring to one another by means of welldetermined relations’.80 So, although we must necessarily use categories, they should be taken simply as ‘markers’ (what Castoriadis means by ‘marker’ remains unclear) not to collapse into what Castoriadis calls ensemblist identity systems (that is concepts that draw well-defined properties of the objects they refer to). Even Klogger, despite his insightful reading of Castoriadis, struggles to further explain the concept of magma: the indeterminacy we encounter in the realms of the human psyche and the social-historical forces us to reconsider the meaning of “being” generally. Being is creation, formation and transformation, a “determining” which never results in the sort of determinacy imagined by traditional ontology. This is the purpose of the concept of magma.81 Historical materialism’s emphasis on the economic realm is then replaced by a focus on the relationship between ‘real acts, whether individual or collective ones’ and the symbolic.82 Castoriadis argues that although economic activity is necessary, it could not exist without the symbolic. He maintains that a given economic organization, a system of law, an instituted power structure, a religion – all exist socially as sanctioned symbolic systems. These systems consist in relating symbols (signifiers) to signifieds (representations, orders, commands or inducements to do or not to do something, consequences for actions – significations in the loosest sense of the term) and in validating them as such, that is to say in making this relation more or less obligatory for the society or the group concerned.83 In simpler words, every social form of action and cooperation relies on symbols representing various things involved in the process (such as rules and orders), as well as justifying the logics of the process and its existence. Castoriadis perceives that the role of the symbolic has always been marginal within social theory: 79 80 81 82 83

Ibid., pp. 182–183. Ibid., p. 177. Klooger, J. and Howard, D. (2009) pp. 181–182. Castoriadis, C. (2005) p. 117. Ibid.

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Why another Marxist theory of ideology? Either symbolism is seen as merely a neutral, surface covering, as an instrument that is perfectly adequate for expressing a pre-existing content, the ‘true substance’ of social relations, neither adding anything nor taking anything away. Or else a ‘special logic’ of symbolism is acknowledged, but this logic is viewed wholly as the insertion of the symbolic within the rational order, which imposes its own consequences whether these be intended or not.84

Either way, the symbolic is always reduced to some underlying substance which supposedly explains it. Implicit in this passage, there is yet another criticism of Marx’s view that the economy determines other aspects of society. Through various examples, Castoriadis shows that the symbolic should not be understood as an aid to practical behaviour and the reproduction of the social order, and thus explained by references to some ‘concrete social relations’: ‘The idea that symbolism is perfectly ‘neutral’ or else - which amounts to the same thing - totally ‘adequate’ to the functioning of real processes is unacceptable and, strictly speaking, meaningless.’85 Rather, we should conceive the symbolic as having its own dimensions beyond the practical logics dictated by social relations. Indeed, the symbolic possess its own independent history that is self-referential yet always evolving and unpredictable: Every symbolism is built on the ruins of earlier symbolic edifices and uses their materials (…) By its virtually unlimited natural and historical connections, the signifier always goes beyond a strict attachment to a precise signified and can lead to completely unexpected realms.86 Let us now answer Castoriadis’ criticisms of Marx. First, what he argues in relation to Marx’s economic predictions seems to me undeniable. History has proven that capitalism is able to innovate itself and that even if we were to postulate a general decline of the rate of profit, it is possible that other countertendencies might neutralise it. Indeed, I believe Marx seemed to have too much faith in his economic method, and that he certainly exaggerated when claiming that the economy ‘can be determined with the precision of natural science’.87 However, this is as far as my agreement with Castoriadis’ critique of Marx goes. It is true that in Capital Volume I Marx states that ‘individuals are dealt with here only in so far as they are the personifications of economic categories, the bearers of particular class-relations and interests’.88 However, that is a specifically economic work that does not take into account the relationship between production, culture, politics, art etc. Hence, to only consider 84 85 86 87 88

Ibid., p. 118. Ibid., p. 121. Ibid. Marx, K. (1987) p. 263. Marx, K (1990) p. 92.

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individuals in terms of economic classes seems to me a justifiable methodological choice. Indeed, there are several passages within Marx’s historic/political texts that explicitly deny this reductionism. For example, ‘Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under selfselected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past’.89 Marx believed that although individuals act in accordance to their own beliefs and motives, there are restrictions in what they can do. Property relations (that allow/prevent certain individuals from accessing resources) and technological development (by determining the capacities individuals have) are examples of economic restrictions/enabling conditions. Furthermore, each economic system has its own incentives for the individuals involved (e.g., capitalists have an incentive to increase their profit). Marx argues that economic structures have their own imperatives (e.g., accumulation of profit) that are asserted by classes within the economy or through the support of certain favourable state policies and laws. However, this leaves open the specific ways in which those imperatives are asserted (e.g., specific property and class relations) which are dependent on the context. The relationship between workers and capitalists is far from ignored by Marx, who always discusses class struggle in his political writings. He does not assert that the actions of individuals are pre-determined. He is rather saying that those actions are (context specific) reactions to certain economic imperatives and that economic systems create certain rules that restrict the possibilities for action. Castoriadis’ critique of Marx is based on a vulgarised reading of his philosophy. While I believe that Marx is often guilty of writing in a manner suggesting the economic reductionism criticised by Castoriadis, the way in which the latter interprets the key assumptions of historical materialism has absolutely no textual basis. Marx never says that individuals’ motivations have always been the same throughout history. He simply points out that throughout history there have always been struggles between different classes over the access and accumulation of resources, and that each economic system produces specific class-dependent economic interests which might then be satisfied in different ways. Thus, to argue that economic interests and classes have always existed is not to reduce all motivations for actions to the satisfaction of those interests, let alone claim that throughout history individuals have had the same motivations. An economic interest (e.g., accumulation of profit) can form the basis for motivating an individual to pursue a certain course of action (e.g., investing capital), but that does not mean that all motivations that individuals have ever had can be reduced to this. There is also no textual evidence to claim that for Marx every need that goes beyond biological ones must be an economic one. Indeed, as we will discuss in Chapter 2 (pp. 95–96), he rather argues that technological development leads to the multiplication of human needs and abilities. Of course, individuals throughout history have had the (economic) need to gain access to 89 Marx, K. (1979) p. 103.

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resources, but that does not make such need the only ‘extra-biological’ one. It is rather the case that individuals need to access resources in order to fulfil their other needs. So that the economic need has primacy over other ones insofar as it makes the satisfaction of other (whether biological or not) needs possible. That is simply to say that I need money (which under capitalism represents the means to access resources) in order to be able to satisfy my other needs, and that depending on my class, I will gain this money through either labour (the worker) or the investment of capital (the capitalist). Therefore, Marx’s point is that technological development increases needs and abilities, and that to fulfil such needs individuals must first gain access to the resources necessary for their satisfaction. Thus, technological development determines the development of needs and capacities, while class relations determine how individuals (depending on their position) can access resources. The primacy of the economic must be asserted in this manner. Castoriadis also casts doubt over the importance given by Marx to technological development. He argues that ‘a new instrument is new in so far as it is the materialisation of a new concept concerning relations between productive activity and its means and ends. Technological ideas remain then a kind of prime mover’.90 Castoriadis argues that if we considered technological development carefully, we would realise that the primacy lays in the ideas guiding it. Thus, the primacy should be given to ‘technological ideas’ rather than their manifestations into objects. This, however, seems to contradict Castoriadis’ intention to avoid determinism. The second counter-argument against this view is provided by Castoriadis himself, who acknowledges that ‘it is true that to become operative these ideas must be “embodied” in instruments and methods of work’.91 In fact, the point of primacy is not that of a ‘chicken/egg’ type of problem where the determining factor is the chronologically prior one (ideas in this case). Rather, the point is that if technological ideas remained ideas, they would have absolutely no effect on society. It is only actual technological development which multiplies the capacities and needs of individuals. If the greatest technological idea does not turn into something material, it would have the same historic and social weight of science fiction. Furthermore, Castoriadis is guilty of a mechanistic separation between ideas and practice (where we must pick which one comes first) which is not found in Marx, who always emphasises the unity of the two. That is to say that any practical activity is always coupled with a certain kind of cognition which makes it possible. The example of the ‘spider and bee’ in Capital Volume I states exactly this: A spider conducts operations which resemble those of the weaver, and a bee would put many a human architect to shame by the construction of its honeycomb cells. But what distinguishes the worst architect from the 90 Castoriadis, C. (2005) pp. 21–22. 91 Ibid., p. 21.

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best of bees is that the architect builds the cell in his mind before he constructs it in wax. At the end of every labour process, a result emerges which had already been conceived by the worker at the beginning, hence already existed ideally. Man not only effects a change of form in the materials of nature; he also realizes [verwirklicht] his own purpose in those materials. And this is a purpose he is conscious of, it determines the mode of his activity with the rigidity of a law, and he must subordinate his will to it.92 Let us now turn to Castoriadis’ alternative to historical materialism. As we have seen, the concept of magma appears to be very obscure. The underlying idea of a category that is not really one but a marker, and so expresses indeterminacy, seems to me to make the social world it tries to explain more complicated than it already is. Castoriadis seems to assume that categories are empty because they are formulated in advance and do not consider the objects they refer to. However, that is an odd criticism given that categories’ role is that of specifying the characteristic of whatever object they refer to, rather than relating to the object per-se. The purpose of categories is to highlight a characteristic (e.g., size) an object has in common with another. They are by nature abstract and not object-specific and dependent. Thus, Castoriadis criticises them for failing to do something they were not designed to. If we were to design categories on the basis of the object we are addressing, then we would have to invent a new and original category for everything we encounter, and so each category would lose its purpose as it could not highlight a particular feature that the object has in common with another. Such thing would not be a category but a very specific description of a particular object. However, as Castoriadis believes that the social world is too complex to be even described, then what we remain with is a category created to refer to a single object, but that must refer to this object in a way that is not determined. The result is something so indeterminate that I cannot even imagine it, let alone explain it any further. Luckily for us, Castoriadis’ discussion of the symbolic and its relationship to underlying social phenomena is more intelligible. As we have seen. Castoriadis criticises accounts (e.g., Marxism) that explain symbols by appeal to the social relations or practices they help coordinating and sustaining. This is because symbols cannot be reduced to social relations and must be understood by reference to their own history and logics. Although, this is a good criticism of reductionist accounts of reality (where everything is reduced to another thing that determines it), I do not think Castoriadis’ rejection of explanations that appeal to social practices is defensible. Not everything can be explained by appeal to practical life and the ‘rationality’ implied by it, but those explanations highlight the ‘instrumental’ (Castoriadis himself acknowledges this) role of the symbol. The fact that our 92 Marx, K. (1990) p. 284.

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symbol possesses other features that cannot be explained by this analysis, does not imply that the analysis is itself useless. This other thing the social explanation cannot explain (although due to his methodology, Castoriadis refuses to be specific) appears to be the aesthetic and idiosyncratic characteristics of symbols.93 And so, it appears obvious to me that something like that cannot be explained by appeal to the social explanations Castoriadis criticises. But must, as he claims, be understood in relation to the history of symbols. However, Castoriadis refuses to draw any lines between the characteristics of symbols in order to analyse them from different angles. A simple example can illustrate this. Take a country’s flag (any flag). We all know that a country’s flag has a special social role (it helps creating a feeling of belonging and identity among people). So, we could discuss our flag from an instrumental perspective. However, the aesthetic characteristics (its peculiar stripes, creatures, emblems, etc.) could certainly not be explained by reference the flag’s social function. We would need to look at the history of our country’s flag. That seems to me the most obvious way to address our symbol. Castoriadis instead offers the symbolic as something that solely relates to its own aesthetic history and excludes any instrumental dimension, while implicitly arguing that the distinctions between the two aspects (that he draws himself) does not exist anyway, and that explanations that analyse it by reference to its instrumental dimension are useless. That appears to be Castoriadis’ argument in a nutshell. Overall, although some of Castoriadis’ criticisms of Marx are helpful reminders against reductionist interpretations of his thought we should avoid, what Castoriadis offers instead simply does not seem to be enough. Furthermore, his emphasis on symbols and their history, does not appear to me as a justified methodological choice if one is attempting to understand social reality in general. Derrida Derrida’s in-depth engagement with Marx’s thought, the unambiguously entitled Specters of Marx, was first published in 1993. However, Derrida’s engagement with Marx began much earlier. As highlighted by Edward Baring’s biography of Derrida’s formative years, he was exposed to Marxist thought since his days at Ecole.94 In fact, Marxism is described as one of the main currents of thought to which Derrida’s early writings reacted to.95 While we will later address Derrida’s own brand of social theory by using passages from various texts, our discussion of his criticisms of Marx will be mostly carried out by reference to Specters of Marx and Ghostly Demarcations (a symposium of 93 The examples Castoriadis uses to express the symbolic dimensions he wants to explore are all tied to the peculiarities of religious rituals and architectures. See Castoriadis, C. (2005) pp. 118–119. 94 Baring, E. (2011) p. 3. 95 Ibid., p. 4.

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critical thinkers debating the arguments presented in Specters of Marx). Derrida frames the discussion of Marx’s thought in terms of spectres. In relation to this analysis, we can understand the idea of the spectre as the theoretical legacy left by Marx. We can think of Marxism as a spectre in the sense that, while Marx himself is gone, his ideas continue to haunt us and make us question society. Although Derrida criticises Marx, he also asserts his everlasting importance: ‘There will be no future without this. Not without Marx. no future without Marx. without the memory and the inheritance of Marx: in any case of a certain Marx. of his genius of at least one of his spirits’.96 In fact, another aim of this work is to attack Fukuyama’s claim that after the collapse of the Soviet Union, capitalism and Western liberalism have finally triumphed. All other ways of thinking (Fukuyama talks of the ‘end of ideology’97) and doing are now obsolete. Derrida engages with Fukuyama by summoning Marx’s ghost. For Derrida, Marx did not present a systematic theory. From the beginning of the text, he asserts that we must rather speak of ‘specters of Marx’. The plural in this case expresses both ‘more than one’ ‘the crowd’, ‘masses’ etc. but also (and perhaps more importantly) ‘simple dispersion’, ‘without any possible gathering’.98 In other words, there are different ‘spectres’ of Marx’s thought due to its disjoined and self-contradictory nature, and consequentially, its many interpretations. Nevertheless, Derrida views this heterogeneity positively as it ‘opens things up’.99 Overall, as Postone puts it: Derrida argues that an adequate critique of the world today must positively appropriate Marx and yet fundamentally criticize him. Derrida seeks to contribute to such a social critique by separating out a certain ‘spirit of Marx’ from what he regards as the ontologizing and dogmatic aspects of Marxism.100 The first criticism of Marx appears during Derrida’s engagement with Fukuyama’s ‘end of ideology’. Derrida argues that ‘when we advance at least the hypothesis that the dogma on the subject of the end of Marxism and of Marxist societies is today, tendentially, a “dominant discourse”, we are still speaking, of course, in the Marxist code’.101 In other words, he acknowledges 96 Derrida, J. (2006) p. 14. 97 Fukuyama’s use of the term of ideology is in line with other mainstream thinkers such as Sartori or Aaron, who understand it as a system of ideas which is dogmatic, fanatic and utopian. Ideology is essentially a negative term constructed in order to criticise any conceptions of the world that propose some forms of ‘radical change’. 98 Ibid., p. 2. 99 Ibid., p. 40. 100 Postone, M. (1998) p. 370. 101 Derrida, J. (2006) p. 68.

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that if we address Fukuyama’s assertion by showing how his way of thinking belongs to a ‘dominant discourse’ (for the sake of simplicity this can be understood as a dominant speech which justifies the socio-economic order and excludes/vilifies dissenting voices), we are still using Marx’s own standpoint. While acknowledging this, we must still be critical of Marx’s categories. We must be ‘suspicious of the simple opposition of dominant and dominated, or even of the final determination of the forces in conflict, or even, more radically, of the idea that force is always stronger than weakness’.102 Furthermore, even though we should acknowledge the conflict between dominant and subordinate groups, we should not conceive social class as the ultimate basis for this conflict. However, Derrida’s attitude towards the concepts of social class/class struggle should not be understood as an outright rejection. The nuances of his relationship to the concepts are in fact elaborated in Ghostly Demarcations, where Derrida addresses the following abstract from an interview:103 ‘I felt that the concept of class struggle and even the identification of a social class were ruined by capitalist modernity (…) Thus any sentence in which “social class” appeared was a problematic sentence for me’.104 Derrida explains that he was not denying the existence of ‘social classes’. He simply meant to argue that the concept and principle of identification of social class current in the Marxist discourse I was hearing then (in the 1960s) were problematic for me. I underscore the word ‘problematic’, which does not mean either false or outmoded or inoperative or Insignificant, but rather susceptible of transformation and critical re-elaboration, in a situation in which a certain capitalist modernity ‘ruins’ the most sensitive defining criterion of class (…). I by no means said (…) that I considered the problem of classes to be outdated or irrelevant.105 Derrida further explains what he means by problematic a page later: What seemed especially problematic to me at the time was the insufficiently ‘differentiated’ nature of the concept of social class as it has been ‘inherited’. What seemed problematic to me at the time, I repeat, was above all the principle of identification of social class, and the idea that a social class is what it is, homogeneous, present and identical to itself as ‘ultimate support’.106 102 Ibid. 103 Derrida discusses the quote to address its misinterpretation by Tom Lewis. See Lewis, T. (2008) pp. 134–167. 104 Derrida, J. (2002) p. 169. 105 Derrida, J. (2008) p. 236. 106 Ibid., p. 237.

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Overall, Derrida is saying that: 1) The ways in which class was defined by Marxists in the 60s was inadequate. 2) The development of capitalism is making it difficult to define social classes. 3) Definitions of social classes tend to imply a homogeneity (e.g., all members of the class have the same beliefs). 4) The idea that such homogenised classes are the basis of all conflicts should thus be rejected. He also argues that Marx’s method is inherently teleological and ahistorical107 and so the whole project should be abandoned. His overall appropriation and critique of Marx’s thought is summed up well in the following passage: To continue to take inspiration from a certain spirit of Marxism would be to keep faith with what has always made of Marxism in principle and first of all a radical critique, namely a procedure ready to undertake its self-critique. This critique wants itself to be in principle and explicitly open to its own transformation, re-evaluation, self-reinterpretation (…) We would distinguish this spirit from other spirits of Marxism, those that rivet it to the body of Marxist doctrine, to its supposed systemic, metaphysical, or ontological totality (notably to its ‘dialectical method’ or to ‘dialectical materialism’).108 In other words, Derrida wants to appropriate Marx’s critical attitude towards the socio-economic order, while rejecting his methodological enterprise, which he deems metaphysical. To fully understand this last criticism, we must explain some core terminology within Derrida’s framework. We will begin by presenting the concept of deconstruction, and for the sake of simplicity, we will use David B. Allison’s synthetic definition: A project of critical thought whose task is to locate and ‘take apart’ those concepts which serve as the axioms or rules for a period of thought, those concepts which command the unfolding of an entire epoch of metaphysics (…). But the work of deconstruction does not consist in simply pointing out the structural limits of metaphysics. Rather, in breaking down and disassembling the ground of this tradition, its task is both to exhibit the source of paradox and contradiction within the system, (…) and to set forth the possibilities for a new kind of meditation, one no longer founded on the metaphysics of presence.109 For Derrida, metaphysics means, approximately, any assumptions, abstractions, or categories used to analyse a given object. Those abstractions are often taken as dogmas by intellectuals. And so, deconstruction is the critical 107 Derrida, J. (2006) pp. 93–94. 108 Ibid., p. 110. 109 Allison, D. B. (1979) p. xxxiii.

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enterprise of taking down those systems by showing their arbitrariness. That is roughly to say that each concept is singled out for critical analysis and put into doubt. We should also explain how this leads Derrida to certain ontological and epistemic commitments. Ontology is the branch of philosophy that deals with being, that is, the branch that investigates what is real, and thus what exists. Epistemology examines knowledge, truth and justification. Since Derrida refuses to accept uncritically the epistemic stances implied by what he sees as metaphysical systems (every systems of assumptions also creates a framework of standards by which truth claims are evaluated), he is led to also question any assumptions concerning what reality is (as those assumptions are framed through metaphysical systems and claim some objectivity they cannot produce). Therefore, the whole distinction between epistemology and ontology collapses because even if we might agree that a real world exists, if we were to create a set of assumptions expressing its ontological characteristics (e.g., classes exist/are real) we would automatically move into the epistemic problem of whether the assumptions are true. This leads Derrida to reject the distinction altogether. For him, there is no reality/truth independently of our subjective interpretation. Objectivity, knowledge and truth are simply myths fostered by metaphysical thinking: ‘Is not the idea of knowledge and of the theory of knowledge in itself metaphysical?’110 Derrida perceives all ontologies as claiming the existence of a ‘substance’ having causal power over other aspects of reality. Therefore, he rejects historical materialism and its assumptions concerning the economic system as the ‘motor of history’. Indeed, his aversion towards coming back to Marxist concepts is clearly shown in the following passage: ‘Why do you want to put forward a new ontology, after having duly noted the transformation that renders the Marxist paradigm of ontology obsolete?’111 Before we move onto discussing hauntology and the concept of spectre, we must first consider Derrida’s critique of what he calls ‘metaphysics of presence’ (the former two concepts are a further development of the latter): ‘The metaphysics of presence as self-proximity wishes to efface by giving a privileged position to a sort of absolute now, the life of the present, the living present’.112 The concept was first coined by Heidegger and serves as a means of emphasising how metaphysical systems always postulate the presence or existence of Being while ignoring its absence. As Marco Stimolo puts it, Western metaphysics exhibits the invariant feature of thinking of Being in terms of presence (…) The term ‘presence’ means that both human thought and its language refer to something external, which does not change independently of the variation of its conceptual and linguistic expressions. In Derrida’s view, the Being is a ‘transcendental signifier’, 110 Derrida, J. (1979) p. 5. 111 Derrida, J. (2006) p. 257. 112 Derrida, J. (1998) p. 309.

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which is intended to be the eternal and final reference of the discourse, writing, and inquiry.113 In other words, the idea of the existence and presence of a well-defined and unchangeable being, that is external and independent of our perception of it, is seen by Derrida as the mark of all metaphysics. Derrida’s concept of spectre is conceived to challenge these ontological assumptions: The specter, as its name indicates, is the frequency of a certain visibility. But the visibility of the invisible. And visibility, by its essence, is not seen, which is why it remains epekeina tes ousias, beyond the phenomenon or beyond being. The specter is also, among other things, what one imagines, what one thinks one sees and which one projects-on an imaginary screen where there is nothing to see.114 The concept blurs any distinction between visible and invisible, presence and absence, past and present. As Postone puts it, ‘the specter represents temporalities that cannot be grasped adequately in terms of present time’.115 Fredric Jameson also offers a further elaboration of the notion: Spectrality does not involve the conviction that ghosts exist or that the past (and maybe even the future they offer to prophesy) is still very much alive and at work, within the living present: all it says, if it can be thought to speak, is that the living present is scarcely as self-sufficient as it claims to be.116 The framework of ontology cannot deal with the spectre due to its characteristics (ontology only addresses what is present). The category of ‘hauntology’ should be used instead: To haunt does not mean to be present, and it is necessary to introduce haunting into the very construction of a concept. (…) That is what we would be calling here a hauntology. Ontology opposes it only in a movement of exorcism.117 Mark Fisher sees hauntology as having two aspects. The first refers to that which is (in actuality is) no longer, but which is still effective as a virtuality (the traumatic ‘compulsion to repeat’, a 113 114 115 116 117

Stimolo, M. (2015) p. 104. Derrida, J. (2006) p. 125. Postone, M. (1994) p. 371. Jameson, F. (2008) p. 39. Derrida, J. (2006) p. 2002.

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Why another Marxist theory of ideology? structure that repeats a fatal pattern). The second refers to that which (in actuality) has not yet happened, but which is already effective in the virtual (an attractor, an anticipation shaping current behavior).118

Thus, instead of postulating what is present as real, we must recognise that reality cannot be comprehended unless we consider what is absent, and yet continues to constitute patterns of behaviour. Let us now turn to our discussion of Derrida’s critique of Marx’s historical materialism, and the method he offers in its place. We will begin by addressing what Derrida says about the plurality of spectres in Marx. Although I agree that Marx’s work presents inconsistencies, and some theoretical statements he makes are contradicted by his own analysis (particularly in regard to the relations of production/productive forces dichotomy), I do believe there is at least a certain overall coherence to his method. And that is why the present work seeks to systematise Marx’s thought while trying to resolve some of the contradictions within his texts. I make no claim to be presenting the ‘true Marx’. We cannot read his mind. Whatever we make of his writings is subjective. I am simply trying to explain what Marx says (through an in-depth reading of some key works) to myself and to others without claiming any special ‘truth status’ to my interpretation. Nevertheless, this would appear to Derrida as a foolish enterprise. The heterogeneity of Marx’s thought cannot be brought to unity. Unfortunately, this is not a claim one can answer by producing a counterargument of some sorts. Ultimately, whether Derrida is right can only be assessed by evaluating whether the present work is successful in its attempt to bring Marx back to unity. As the person writing it, I cannot have any saying in this, as my opinion is, of course, biased. This is something for critics to decide. Despite not being sympathetic to Derrida’s enterprise, I think his arguments against Marxist notions of social class are compelling. We must remember that Derrida is not attacking the concept per-se, but how it was defined by Marxist thinkers since the 60s. Indeed, his first comments on the matter are in the context of a discussion of Althusser, whose ‘structuralist’ interpretation of Marx has inspired various reductionist theories of ‘socialisation’.119 Therefore, I must agree with Derrida on this. We should also discuss his argument that as capitalism develops it alters the ways in which individuals come together and form groups, and so defining social classes becomes increasingly difficult. Let me first say that this text does not endorse any idea of social class, if by social class we mean a homogeneous group of people belonging to the same economic class but also sharing the same ideas, interests, aspirations etc. This way of thinking is too deterministic. Perhaps, a category of this sort could only apply to the top 1% earners in the world, who operate in a world that is inaccessible to others (and are thus within a ‘thicker 118 Fisher, M. (2012) p. 19. 119 For example, see Therborn, G. (1980) p. 87.

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social bubble’), and due to this they could potentially be understood as a social class. We could argue that among this elite there is a certain tendency to be predisposed towards profit accumulation and neo-liberal ideas (without however asserting this any stronger than that, as what each individual thinks or believes is never set in stone). If applied to any other economic class, (middle/working class) the concept seems outdated for the reasons Derrida highlights. In today’s world most people form groups among themselves, but what ties them is not so much class, but rather the interests they have in common things (e.g., music, politics, films, etc.). The increasing affordability of goods makes the social intermingling of different economic classes (the only exclusion being the 1%) inevitable, and so asserting their homogeneity in terms of beliefs, habits or even aesthetic sense, seems wrong. Indeed, I believe that to speak of social groups and identifying those groups by the common interests (whatever they might be is irrelevant) that hold them together, is the most adequate solution to the problem. Although I agree with Derrida on social class, I will argue that the category of economic class is still extremely important to grasp social reality. That is because regardless of what individuals think of it, the struggle between capital and labour always asserts itself and constitutes the root of capitalism’s most dreaded socio-economic problems: inequality and unemployment. Therefore, although other conflicts might exist, and must not be denied, the more basic economic struggle between wage and capital produces the material settings by determining the access to resources individuals have (which as we explained earlier, in turn, determines the extent to which individuals can satisfy their needs). I will also show how the economic interests of various classes are either asserted by politicians, or at least considered when proposing manifestos and programs. A certain connection between class and politics will therefore be discussed throughout this book. This will be done in a way that seeks to avoid the (arguably Marxist) idea that ‘class determines political belief ’. Doing away with the concept of class would preclude us from understanding all this. Let us now to turn Derrida’s claim that any attempt to build on Marx’s concepts would be metaphysical and imply an ontological commitment to a substance determining other things. First, we must point out that Derrida is aware that, despite his critical attitude, metaphysical thinking is inescapable.120 Pointing that out would not constitute a criticism of his position. Nevertheless, I have some issues with Derrida’s decision to collapse ontology and epistemology. It is true that if we make ontological claims about what exists, those claims must be assessed from an epistemological perspective (we need to evaluate their ‘truth status’), however, to reject the idea of an ontological (‘real’) world that is separate from our interpretation of it (and thus questions of truth or falseness), seems to be going too far. Indeed, I think this view represents a very sophisticated form of solipsism (the idea that the world only exists because we can 120 Derrida, J. (2008) p. 245.

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perceive it). Derrida would never agree on this, but let us compare the two: for him, all features of the real world are only grasped subjectively (and so reality cannot be thought without reference to our interpretation of it), and the distinction between the world out there and our interpretation of it should collapse. For the most rudimentary solipsist no reality exists outside what we can perceive. Is there really so much difference between the two perspectives? Although Derrida is not explicitly a solipsist as he does not deny the existence of an independent reality, practically, due to his framework he makes that very assumption whenever he wishes to analyse a given object (meaning that the difference between an interpretation and an empirical object is ignored and treated as if it did not exist). Furthermore, Derrida’s understanding of ontology as the idea of some (real) substance which determines other (less real) things, is caricatural. For example, Marx’s materialism does not claim that the economy is more real than, let us say, politics, thought, art, etc. Rather, Marx argues that those other aspects of society could not exist if there was no economic system through which individuals could produce and access resources, while the technological development of a society shapes the way those other social functions are carried out. The ontological claim in this case is not that the economy is more real than other things,but rather that it is necessary for other things to exist. As we will develop throughout this work, this is roughly the way we will understand what Marx means by determination. We will call this ontological priority, which in its more general form means that the existence of an economic system is what makes other things possible (as we will see later in Chapter 3 (pp. 120–123), there are different aspects to this priority). Lastly, Derrida’s spectre/hauntology dichotomy makes things needlessly confusing. Of course, we can speak of things that are not physically present (e.g., dogmatic ideas) and that yet assert their logic in constituting the present and future. However, this fact could simply be understood in relation to the habits and memories individuals have inherited from past generations. To move away from what is present, and focus on this spectral absence, would make us forget that no spectres exist without a mind that is haunted by them, and that the mind needs a living brain to exist, and for a brain to exist, food must be brought to the table, while this food is accessed by economic means. Derrida’s appraisal of the influence that past ideas and practices have on the living, leads him to abandon what is present, and what exists: the real individuals turning those ghosts into reality through their actions. Therefore, far from being a method that shade light upon the social world, Derrida’s spectres risk to lead us too far away from the actual object of our study. Derrida’s himself would perhaps acknowledge that spectres come to life through individuals. Then are not the (present/existing) individuals in their ‘difference’ (to use a term congenial to Derrida) determining the peculiar ways in which the spectres manifests themselves? And if so, should not those individuals be the object of our analysis? Finally, is it not simpler (although certainly less exoteric) to speak of history (the past thing living in the brains of the living) instead of spectres?

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Why a Marxist theory? We have been discussing various criticisms aimed at the fundamental concepts presented by Marx throughout his works. I have tried to show that although some of these criticisms were fair when referring to certain deterministic interpretations of Marxism, the core notions can be saved if reworked to avoid said problems. Other criticisms were then rejected on the basis that they reconstructed Marx’s concepts in a manner that has no textual evidence (such as Castoriadis’ understanding of the key assumptions of Marx’s method). Our task now is to engage with criticisms against the possibility of creating a systematic theory out of Marx’s works. By now, our reader should be aware that critical thinkers often reject attempts to define concepts. Any sort of determination is also rejected. Concepts and categories can only be formulated in a manner that is exceptionally vague. Due to skepticism towards positivism and science, definitions and theories are perceived as contributing towards the domination of ruling groups. For example, in their recent work, Hermeneutic Communism, Vattimo and Santiago Zabala claim that: ‘Analytic philosophy, as the completion of scientific realism, legitimizes not only scientific enterprises but also the American government, which in part depends on such enterprises’.121 Analytic philosophy is something broader than positivism, and generally refers to any philosophical enterprise aiming at achieving clarity and precision when presenting its key concepts and arguments. Although analytic philosophy often refers to works which study things such as formal logic, even within Marxism, an analytic branch has developed (e.g., G. A. Cohen and Elster) in the 1980s. Although I was never influenced by analytic philosophy in general, or by its Marxist variants (of which I am very critical), the present work might be classed as analytic due to its efforts to clearly define concepts and articulate their relationship in some depth. Therefore, according to Vattimo and Zabala, by simply attempting to clarify core Marxist notions, I am contributing to the reproduction of capitalism as well as implicitly supporting the American government. Nevertheless, despite their claims against positivism, analytic philosophy and objective truth, Vattimo and Zabala cannot help but use statistics in their work.122 Are they secretly working for the American government? Let us discuss this perverse claim in some depth. If any attempt to explain the workings of (let us say) capitalism through well-defined concepts is viewed as supporting capitalism itself, then I wonder, what does postmodernism bring to the table as a way of resistance? Assume that person X perceives the evils of the world and wants to do something about it. Most people would agree that the first step would be for X to understand how the present world 121 Vattimo, G. and Zabala, S. (2014) p. 35. 122 Ibid., p. 69.

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functions, so that he/she is able to identify where the problem lays. In order to do so, X would need to read some texts. If X were to gain an understanding by reading postmodern works, he/she would get a feel of how some dominant order exists and how it causes problems. However, since postmodern authors refuse to define and specify their concepts, X would be confronted with a world of oppression and domination, which is, at the same time, unknowable insofar as made of difference, non-determination, and non-homogeneity. In other words, X would be aware that something is wrong, but the very means to grasp where the problem lies would be completely denied, as the postmodern universe is indeterminate and ungraspable. The problem becomes the system in all its undifferentiated aspects. Laws and rules are nothing but a ploy to subject you to the dominant order. Morality is a sham. ‘Truth’ is invented to manipulate you. And so, what can one do when confronted with an entire world which is inherently evil and ungraspable? One wonders what kind of critical theory should make you feel you know less than you knew before? (as all your common-sense assumptions have been destroyed). What kind of critical spirit can rise from a framework that denies we can understand the world? Is this not a defeatist position that rather stifles our will to understand and act? As E. M. Wood puts it: ‘What better escape, in theory, from a confrontation with capitalism, the most totalizing system the world has ever known, than a rejection of totalizing knowledge?’.123 On a purely theoretical level this also spells disaster. According to postmodernism, we could refuse to (critically) engage with mainstream positivists, by simply arguing that what they do is metaphysical. Indeed, their arguments can (in principle) be proved wrong without any consideration, simply on the grounds that they used concepts and categories. I am not denying that postmodern thinkers engage in interesting and fruitful criticism of mainstream positions. I am simply showing that if we apply their logic to its conclusion, we have no need to do that. We could simply use the ‘this is metaphysical’ shortcut and avoid confrontation altogether. And if this became the norm, we would not have an intellectual war between two camps, but rather, two self-reinforcing academic bubbles that see each other as the devil. Postmodern theory is so critical, it destroys any possibility for meaningful critical theory. Self-criticism and skepticism are very useful and healthy attitudes. However, if this skepticism is taken to its extremes, then we are left with an enterprise which is impossible by its own standards. In other words, if critical theory goes as far as putting into doubt the very possibility of an alternative understanding of the world to the one presented by mainstream theory, then all we are left with is critical meta-metaphysics, that is the ever going struggle to discuss ways to avoid something (the use of abstract concepts and definitions) that is necessary to carry out any kind of analysis. The impossibility of this task is 123 Wood, E. M. (2003) p. 2.

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acknowledged by postmoderns themselves, but they insist, and so their focus is always to criticise defined concepts though the use of obscure concepts. It appears to me that postmodern theorists are the ones guilty of supporting capitalism and the American government insofar as they refuse to create frameworks to understand them. So deep and buried they are in their impossible war against metaphysics. I hope the reader was persuaded that we need definitions, precision and depth. The social world is an extremely complicated and messy affair. I do not deny that. I also do not deny that any conceptual mapping of the social world would be a simplification that ignore many of its aspects. However, how is it possible for us to create meaningful political action against the present socio-economic order if we do not have some simplified mapping of it? I make no claims to objectivity or special truth. To discuss the problem of objectivity within the present work would be impossible and carry us far away from its purpose. Therefore, I leave the question open at this stage. The critics will judge whether what I propose here is useful or rubbish. I just think it worthwhile to create a coherent framework through which we can better grasp this world. It is my belief that such framework can only be made intelligible to my readers if I put all my efforts into defining concepts and categories as well as trying to show how they stand in relation to each other. In other words, this is for me the only way to grasp social reality. To say that this makes me complicit in its evils is to say that any will to understand society is itself wicked. Now that we have discussed this general criticism against theories and welldefined concepts and categories, let us turn to John Holloway’s work Change the World without Taking Power, where the criticism we discussed in the previous paragraphs is further elaborated and aimed, specifically, at any attempt to systematise Marx’s thought. Note that, in the text, Holloway’s criticism of what he calls ‘scientific Marxism’ is carried out by reference to his interpretation of commodity fetishism. In this sense, Holloway attacks certain strands of Marxism by appeal to Marxist concepts. The first problem Holloway has with what he perceives as ‘scientific Marxism’ is that it seeks to explain the social through objective laws conceived as ‘independent of men’s will’.124 According to Holloway, this leads towards a dualistic tension between pre-determined actions and human will. He (rightly) points out that the result of this is an endless debate between determinism and voluntarism, between those who attribute little importance to subjective intervention and those who see it as crucial. The argument, however, is about the space to be granted to the subject within an objectively determined framework.125

124 Holloway, J. (2005) p. 121. 125 Ibid., p. 126.

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The right answer to the problem is to focus on the subjective dimension of social life and the possibilities it opens for action. Then we have the epistemic problem. What assures us that Marxism is an objective science? ‘If Marxism is understood as the correct, objective, scientific knowledge of history, then this begs the question, “who says so?” Who holds the correct knowledge and how did they gain that knowledge? Who is the subject of the knowledge?’126 Furthermore, this assumption of objectivity leads to a hierarchical understanding of how revolutionary movements should be structured: Knowledge-about is power-over. If science is understood as knowledgeabout, then there is inevitably a hierarchical relation between those who have this knowledge (and hence access to the ‘correct line’) and those (the masses) who do not. It is the task of those-in-the-know to lead and educate the masses.127 Holloway argues that science should rather be conceived as a critique. This would give rise to dialogue with the people, rather than one-sided education/ indoctrination.128 All the assumptions of scientific Marxists lead to a positivist understanding of reality. Indeed, both currents have in common the idea of ‘a theory of society’: In a theory of society, the theorist seeks to looks at society objectively and to understand its functioning. The idea of a ‘theory of ’ suggests a distance between the theorist and the object of the theory. The notion of a theory of society is based on the suppression of the subject, or (and this amounts to the same thing) based on the idea that the knowing subject can stand outside the object of study.129 Holloway concludes by condemning any attempt at creating theories that try to explain the reproduction of capitalism by employing Marx’s concepts (that is precisely what I propose): The attempt to use Marxist categories to construct an alternative economics or an alternative sociology is always problematic (…) because the categories do not always stand up to such reinterpretation. Thus, these reinterpretations have often given rise to considerable debate and to a questioning of the validity of the categories themselves.130

126 127 128 129 130

Ibid,. p. 122. Ibid., p. 131. Ibid. Ibid., p. 135. Ibid. p. 136.

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Let me begin by saying that I think some of Holloway’s criticisms are fair, especially considering he is directing them towards the orthodox ‘scienceobsessed’ brand of Marxism that sees itself as having some special truth, while rejecting everything else as ‘false consciousness’. He is also right in arguing that if we take Marx’s method to imply some objective laws which make historic development predictable, we might end up with a dualism between those predictable process and individuals’ volition. Indeed, a schism of this sort has existed for a while, between the structuralist approaches and the humanist approaches to Marx’s thought. I also agree with Holloway’s emphasis on the role of workers’ struggle against capitalism in determining its development. Nevertheless, I do not think the answer is to focus on subjectivity, but to distinguish between certain features within the reproduction of society which are necessary, and others which are contingent. Indeed, the distinction between the economy and the collective actions of individuals is not that between determinism and volition. Volition is present even within the reproduction of capitalism in the sense that, even within its economic structure, individuals are not the mindless puppets described by postmodern thought, they still are free to the extent capitalism allows them to be. For example, a person might choose where to work or what to buy. What this person cannot choose is whether to work or not. To be part of the economic system and to participate in its reproduction is a necessity (unless one is extremely rich). The reproduction of the capital/labour relationship is also necessary in the sense that, within the present socio-economic order, that is the only way in which production can be carried out. In other words, economic categories point towards certain antagonistic class relations and conditions which necessarily reproduce themselves over and over. The contingent aspects are (for example) the specific way this occurs (e.g., what branches of industry develop) the particular struggles that might hinder or enhance exploitation, inequalities, state action as a response to economic crises, politics, and the ideas individuals make of society. The distinction between necessity and contingency is different from that of determination and voluntarism. Indeed, as I will argue throughout this work, volition and agency must be grasped as existing but within the specific rules and structures which make certain behaviours appear necessary (the right wayof acting and thinking) within specific situations. If we take Marx’s theory to be something that can already predict the future by the postulation of objective laws, then Holloway is right in his criticism. Indeed, I agree with him that all tendencies predicted by Marx within Capital Volume I should be the object of serious critical scrutiny, along with the idea that the development of economies can be predicted. However, what I propose here is, rather ,distinctions between certain social relations and structures which are necessary for the reproduction of society’s material existence, the various ways in which they reproduce themselves, and the different ways in which individuals react to this material world. Nevertheless, I do not believe this ‘contingent reaction’, can be grasped by simply shifting (as Holloway suggests) towards the subjective perspective. Indeed, if we want a

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holistic view (which Holloway claims to be presenting), it is important to understand how and why groups are formed for and against the socio-economic order. What are the ideas that drive them and why do individuals find them appealing? As we will see, this is precisely the sort question my work will seek to answer through a theory of ideology. Although, as we will see, this entails we consider the subjective dimension, the way individuals become part of politically engaged groups must be carried out in conjunction with classic Marxist concepts such as the base/superstructure dichotomy. Holloway’s attacks against the supposed elitism of scientific Marxism appear fair if one is criticising the ‘enlightened educators’ vs ‘mindless mob’ attitude which might exist within some socialist parties. Nevertheless, this is not a necessary consequence of having a systematic theory of society. The fact that an intellectual might have a sophisticated view of the world does not mean that she is not ready to listen to people and their problems and learn from what they say. Indeed, if intellectuals tend to have a more abstract and schematic view of the world, working people have a much better grasp of how it works from a practical perspective. They both could learn from each other, as their views, far from being mutually exclusive, might give rise to some interesting syntheses and advances. The practical knowledge of the people could help to keep the intellectual from going astray with abstractions, while the people would be able to connect their practical knowledge to the broader social world through the abstract notions which are presented by intellectuals (while the first does not seem to ever happen, the second does so, on a constant basis, through the politicians/electorates and media/viewers relationships).131 For Holloway, it appears that any sort of education from intellectuals is wrong and a form of patronising elitism. It appears that for Holloway, there is nothing intellectuals can teach. So why does Holloway teach at university? Why has he written several books? Do not get me wrong, I am critical of academics, and I think that, sometimes, their education makes them so aloof they forget the real world, so involved they are in the castles they build in their heads. However, attacking thinkers only on the ground that they try to make theories and accuse them of elitism solely on this basis seems unfair. The final argument presented by Holloway is directed precisely at the sort of works carried out within the present pages: Any theory presupposes some sort of ‘outside of the world’ objectivity which cannot stand to critical scrutiny. However, this is a problem for all intellectuals who try to use concepts to describe reality from an abstract perspective, regardless of whether they want to construct theories. In other words, Holloway himself is guilty of what he attacks scientific Marxists for. Indeed, throughout his work he uses several concepts which refer to what he treats as objective features of the world (e.g., class, fetishism, capital, etc.) Indeed, the objectivity of the notions presented is always assumed and never questioned. It appears that the problem of objectivity is only an issue for the concepts Holloway wants to reject, while it can be ignored for those he likes. He 131 This is something virtually every critical theory out there acknowledges.

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simply imposes the arbitrary standard that ‘only theories assume objectivity’ to hide this fact. Furthermore, the idea that science as a critique does not entail the same ‘objectivity problem’ is questionable. If I propose only concepts designed to criticise other theories, does that mean that they are outside the range of epistemic critique? It seems to me that when concepts are created to criticise other concepts, answering the epistemic question becomes more necessary. That is because if I create a concept to show how some other notion is false, then should I not have to deal with what makes my concept truer than the one I have criticised? In other words, critical concepts necessarily lead to the problem of falseness, and consequentially to the problem of the truth status of the critical concept itself. We will further illustrate this issue through our discussion of negative/critical conceptions of ideology.

Why a theory of ideology? In this section we will address criticisms against theories of ideology. We can begin by a rough outline of various ways in which the concept is conceived by Marxist and critical thinkers in general. The reader must note that the following schematisation is not exhaustive and only considers the broadest trends in the characterisation of the concept: 1

2

3

Ideology as socialisation: This is the broadest conception. According to this interpretation, ideology refers to either (or both) ideas and practices that contribute to the reproduction of the socio-economic order. Ideology is seen as responsible for the consent to said order. Ideology as distortion: This is a narrow and critical notion of ideology. It is designed to capture certain distortion within thought that justify the socio-economic order and contribute to its reproduction. The exact nature of the distortion depends entirely on the specific definition. Ideology as vehicle for class struggle and class interest: This is also a narrow conception. According to this view, what characterises ideology is that it serves the interests of certain classes, and as such, it is considered as a central dimension in which class struggle takes place.

The reader must note that these models are not mutually exclusive. Indeed, some theories present all three of them. For example, Althusser’s theory of ideology (see pp. 75–82) appears to have all three features above. The theory proposed in this book could be classed within the third category, even though it rejects the first two. That is to say that, according to our theory, ideology should not be conceived as a process of socialisation (instead Bourdieu’s habit/field dichotomy, combined with Gramsci’s theory of hegemony will be used to discuss that), or as being distorted/false (for the reasons we will shortly explore). Instead, we will argue that ideology is characterised by its being the vehicle for class interests, even though, the most central features of its definition will relate to the object ideology seek to address and explain (that is, as we will see, social phenomena).

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The first criticism we will discuss is presented by Rastko Mocnik and Derrida in Ghostly Demarcations, and is aimed at theories of ideology (not the concept per-se). For the sake of brevity, I will quote Derrida’s succinct summary of the criticism: ‘The very possibility of a theory of ideology is ruined by “the very idea of ideology”. I would only add that the fact that a theory of ideology is impossible, in the strict sense of the word “theory”’.132 This is because a theory of ideology would entail ‘a formalizable system of objectifying theorems, the formulations of which lie outside the field of objectivity thus delimited; in other words, in the present instance, a non-ideological theory of ideology, a theory of ideology or science of ideology’.133 This criticism seems to be aimed at either a notion of ideology in terms of socialisation or as distorted thought (that is one and two in the schema above). In the first case, how can one postulate such a broad conception of socialisation and then imagine ourselves to be outside of it? Surely, if all aspects of our socialisation are part of ideology, how can we escape and create a theory of it? A similar problem confronts theories that see ideology as distortion. This characterisation entails an ‘outside/objective’ position from which we can pass judgment over the falseness of a notion. Furthermore, if ideology is false and distorted, how can we express this without having to put forward some conception of truth, which could be, in turn, the object of the same criticism? Although there are perhaps ways to escape Mocnik’s and Derrida’s criticisms, they appear to me very compelling. Indeed, although it was first my plan to develop an account of ideology as distortion, it was considerations of this kind that led me to abandon the project. My greatest problem was the need to create some theory of truth corresponding to the distortion. My theory has an epistemic characterisation, but that has nothing to do with its status of truth/falseness but rather with the object of knowledge that characterises ideology. In other words, our theory of ideology refers to knowledge insofar as ideology is the production of a certain form of knowledge, that is knowledge of how the social world functions. Our theory makes no distinctions between forms of thought that are presented as knowledge (while being false) or actual (true) knowledge. They are all ideologies insofar as they explain, justify or criticise the social world. Therefore, I sit very comfortably in admitting that this work is both a meta-ideology and ideology. It is meta-ideology in the sense that it explains the role of ideology within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. It is ideology insofar as the narrative presented in this work attempts to explain the social world (which is, according to our view, what ideologies do).134

132 Derrida, J. (2008) p. 256. 133 Ibid., p. 257. 134 Later on we will see that, technically speaking, this work would be a meta-political philosophy/political philosophy. However, to not overload our reader with distinctions, we will keep this one for later (pp. 181–182).

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In my view, this conception of ideology is very important to understand the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. As I will explain in depth through our reading of Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks these explanations of the social world have various roles such as justification of the social order and homogenisation of thought but also critique and resistance. Those are, in my view, the narratives that move individuals to action, and therefore their formation and spreading bring the most unpredictable results in the political realm (whether we conceive this broadly as organised action, or narrowly in terms of state, law and policy), and subsequent development of the socio-economic order. Indeed, what makes this theory of ideology different from others is the fact that (differently from the ‘socialization models’) they acknowledge conflict (instead of viewing ideology as something that literally ‘constitutes subjects’), both between different classes, but also within the ruling classes themselves. In this manner, this theory can help analyse differences in various ‘dominant’ ideologies (e.g., mainstream parties’ ideologies) which are also important to grasp the nuances of specific historic developments within nation states. Despite their great importance, I believe that the study of ideologies must be combined with an understanding of underlying economic struggles, and general problems such as inequality and unemployment (which in my view provide the ‘raw settings’ that are interpreted by various ideologies). To study ideologies on their own, is to ignore the economic needs and suffering which might create the motivations to embrace them. Therefore, even though I admit that ideologies lead to unpredictable results, the motivations behind their embrace often relate to more basic and fundamental economic problems that spring from antagonistic class logics. Indeed, as we will discuss, ideologies might express certain material interests of dominant classes as well as attempting to represent others. Behind their criticism of certain social structures that must be abolished, behind the praises they sing of certain institutions, behind their explanations of problems and conflicts, often lay some material interests that must be fulfilled through the actions justified by their social commentaries. Let us conclude this chapter by briefly discussing the notions of ideology presented by Adorno and Žižek. While other interesting conceptions of ideology (or other notions seeking to replace it, such as Castoriadis’ ‘the imaginary’) exist within the critical tradition, the following authors were picked due to their fairly straightforward definitions of the concept which allow us to discuss them without having to explain their whole frameworks.

Conceptions of ideology: Adorno and Žižek Adorno’s conception of ideology is perhaps best summarised by the following passage: The supposition of identity is indeed the ideological element of pure thought, all the way down to formal logic; but hidden in it is also the

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Why another Marxist theory of ideology? truth moment of ideology, the pledge that there should be no contradiction, no antagonism. In the simple identifying judgment.135

Adorno equates ideology with ‘identity-thinking’, that is the categorisation of different objects through a common feature they might have (e.g., strawberries and firetrucks are the same under the category of ‘red things’). This is viewed as a problem for Adorno, as this way of thinking numbs our intelligence while also giving us a distorted picture of reality. As Eagleton explains, Adorno sees identity-thinking as ‘a covertly paranoid style of rationality which inexorably transmutes the uniqueness and plurality of things into a mere simulacrum of itself.’136Adorno’s notion of ideology might be conceived as a variant of the ‘socialization model’. We are constituted as subjects through identity thinking and see the world through constant categorisation. Indeed, this is inescapable as the economic system presupposes the commensurability of all products of labour (they are all the same insofar as they can be exchanged with money). Mathematics, formal logic and similar disciplines also enforce this upon us on a theoretical level. Given Adorno’s dislike for the enlightenment and its faith in reason, there is no doubt identity thinking appeared for him to be the most dangerous and widespread way of thinking in the modern age. The obvious problem with Adorno’s critique of identity thinking is that there is no reason to think categorisation is inherently bad. Indeed, categorising and abstracting common features by looking at different objects is something necessary and inescapable. And while it might be true that some individuals could become, let us say ‘overly analytical’ and thus lose their perception of the differences between things, to say that identity thinking leads to the dumbing of our faculties or to a distorted vision of reality, seems to be stretching the critique too far. Categorising does not prevent us from recognising differences, the aesthetic and the identity-thinking ways of seeing the world are not mutually exclusive and can be employed by the same individuals at different times. Nevertheless, I believe Adorno has a right intuition. There is indeed a problem stemming from identity thinking. However, this does not lie in the ‘type of thinking’ per-se but relates to its employment through daily economic activities. As we will explain through our analysis of fetishism, the practical assumption that all commodities are commensurable leads us to treat human labour as a commodity. This, in turn, conceals the inequalities underlying capitalism (see pp. 146, 152, 154–155). Žižek’s conception of ideology is inspired by Peter Sloterjik’s text, The Critique of Cynical Reason. According to Žižek, Sloterjik attempts to show that ‘ideology’s dominant mode of functioning is cynical, which renders impossible – or, more precisely, vain – the classic critical-ideological procedure’.137 This means that although a dominant ideology shaping or even 135 Adorno, T. (2004) p. 149. 136 Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 126. 137 Žižek, S. (2008), p. 25.

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constituting subjects still exists, it works through the mechanism of ‘cynicism’. The ‘cynical subject’ knows very well what ‘he is doing’, he knows that the dominant ideology simply serves the interests of the elites, but he nevertheless endorses it. Thus, the formula which best captures modern subjects’ relation to ideology is ‘they know very well what they are doing, but still, they are doing it’.139 Ideology is not something which we ‘take literally’ anymore. We ‘cynically’ endorse ideology and act in accordance to it even though we know we are complying with costumes, practices laws, etc. which are arbitrarily and unjustifiably imposed upon us. To better explain how the psychological mechanism of ‘cynicism’ works, Žižek compares it to Sloterjik’s notion of ‘Kynicism’. As Kyncism ‘represents the popular, plebeian rejection of the official culture by means of irony and sarcasm’,140 it presupposes an awareness of ideology’s false pretences of truth and universality and its consequential rejection through sarcasm and irony. Kynicism challenges ideology by ridiculing it and showing the hypocrisy of these who preach it. On the other hand, cynicism is to be understood as the ‘answer of the ruling culture to this kynical subversion’.141 The ruling ideology already takes into account ‘the particular interest behind the ideological universality, the distance between the ideological mask and the reality, but it still finds reasons to retain the mask’.142 Thus, ideologies are not to be ‘taken seriously’ anymore and people who endorse them do so cynically. According to Žižek, cynical reasoning does not exactly represent a position of immorality, but should rather be understood as 138

morality itself put in the service of immorality – the model of cynical wisdom is to conceive probity, integrity, as a supreme form of dishonesty, and morals as a supreme form of profligacy, the truth as the most effective form of a lie.143 The ‘cynic position’ thus presents an ‘inversion’ of moral values. Virtues or qualities which were previously considered as true normative standards of living, are perceived as symptoms of people’s hypocrisy. If Žižek is right in claiming that today’s subjects follow ideology through cynical reasoning, then a critique of ideology would lose its meaning because people ‘already know’ that ideology is simply a means through which the ruling classes assert their interests. Žižek’s notion of ideology is certainly useful when analysing our current condition. The idea of ruling classes using narratives to cover their interests has indeed become part of our common sense (and is something propagated 138 Žižek’s notion of ideology seems to entail the ‘socialization model’ previously discussed. 139 Ibid., p. 24. 140 Ibid., p. 26. 141 Ibid., p. 26. 142 Ibid. 143 Ibid.

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by news outlets as well as films, music, art etc.). I am happy to concede that the psychological mechanism of cynicism can help explain some individuals’ embrace of ideology. However, this notion assumes that everyone embracing dominant ideologies is a cynic. This assumption is in my opinion unwarranted. How can we claim this when individuals and groups coming from various social strata enthusiastically embrace policies such as privatisation, austerity and low corporate taxes? My issue with Žižek’s conception is that it generalises human psychology and reduces every support for ruling classes to cynicism. By assuming this, we are essentially arguing that no genuine embrace of dominant ideologies exists, something which cannot be proved or asserted with any degree of certainty. Furthermore, this generalisation assumes individuals to relate to the social world in an identical manner. In this sense it re-proposes the ‘cog in the machine’ model of human thought and agency. Although subjects embrace the order cynically, they are still seen as cogs insofar as they all ‘think in the same way’. Indeed, this is essentially a repackaged version of the classic socialisation model. The only difference is that in this case we are all the same because we are cynics, rather than dupes. Finally, this model does not actually provide a definition of ideology, and so it is unclear what sets of beliefs or practices are cynically embraced. Indeed, rather than a theory of ideology, Žižek’s notion of cynicism presents a psychological explanation for belief acquisition.

2

Historical materialism and ideology

Nine propositions Although there are themes such as domination and consent, that run across the entirety of Marxist literature on ideology, commentators often hold conflicting views when it comes to defining the concept. The first issue is that no agreement exists on what Marx’s method exactly amounts to. And since the method itself is contested (each author presents a different interpretation of Marxism), definitions of ideology vary. One of the central problems with Marx’s materialism is that, although scholars might agree on what its central premises are, their specific meaning remain contested. Indeed, Marx’s writings on the matter are nebulous and cryptic. The main issue with ideology is that although Marx uses the term, he never defines it. Therefore, commentators base their interpretations on a close of reading of Marx’s use of the word. This has led to the elaborations of several theories of ideology which were either directly attributed to Marx, or inspired by him. The following is a brief overview of the controversies surrounding Marx’s method and his use of the term ideology. It is important to engage with the views of commentators, especially because our first argument might sound controversial: I claim that no theory of ideology was ever presented by Marx, even though some definitions could admittedly be theorised from the context in which the term was used. So how can this work present a Marxist theory of ideology? I think mine is not a contradictory statement, as my theory is built on Marx’s historical materialism and my interpretation of key concepts such as mode of production, base/superstructure, material practice, etc. (even though the definition of ideology itself was inspired by Gramsci). To make some sense of the aspects of Marx’s method that are relevant to our enterprise, we will now present nine propositions which are the heart of the controversy surrounding Marx’s materialism and (what commentators take to be) his theory of ideology: 1

‘The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life’.1 1 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1987b) p. 263.

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2

Changes in the economic base ‘lead to the transformation’ of the ‘whole superstructure’.2 The ideas of a society are determined by its economic base and its implicit conflicts and contradictions.3 Ideas (or at least some ideas) are part of the superstructure that is said to support the economic base.4

3 4

Those propositions can be found within Marx’s famous ‘1859 Preface’ to A Contribution to a Critique of Political Economy. Since Marx never defines key terms such as contradictions and base/superstructure, nor explains how the development of a society and its ideas are determined by its economic base and its contradictions, different variants of historical materialism exist within the literature. Furthermore, one might wonder whether propositions one and two mean the same thing. One might argue that the base/superstructure dichotomy (2) is there simply to re-state the idea that the economic development of a given society determines its social, political, and intellectual life (1). Given these ambiguities and the different interpretations developed to address them, the concept of ideology is integrated in different ways depending on the interpretation of historical materialism. Ideology might be conceived as having to do with the determination of ideas from material/economic circumstances (in which case ideology becomes a term to describe the materialist determination of ideas), or as having to do with specific ideas that are classed as ideology because they are part of the superstructure. This is not all, as in The German Ideology Marx also argues that: The formation of ideas is to be explained from ‘material practices’.5 Ideas individuals form about the world are to be explained from their position within the division of labour.6 The class that rules society economically, also rules intellectually, whilesubordinated classes are ‘subjected’ to the rulers’ ideas.7 Ruling ideas reflect the material interests of the ruling classes.8 Ideology is ‘upside down’.9

5 6 7 8 9

This brings additional problems, as these propositions implicitly suggest new meanings of ideology. First, propositions five and six bring back the problem of the ‘material determination’ of ideas, but in this case they narrow the scope of this determination by positing material practice and/or the 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b). p. 54. Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 59. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 36, 92, 420, 460.

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individual position within the division of labour as key aspects. Proposition three also appears again in The German Ideology. In other words, the text presents three ways of conceiving the material determination of ideas, which I have summarised through propositions four, five, and six. Finally, propositions seven and eight suggest a political definition of ideology as having to do with political power and class interests. Again, disagreement exists on whether these propositions are useful, coherent and compatible with one another. Finally, the ambiguous association of ideology with the term inversion (another concept Marx never explained) raises the question of whether the term was employed by Marx to isolate distorted/false ideas. If this was not enough, another definition of ideology can be found in one of Engels’ letters: Ideology is a process which is, it is true, carried out consciously by what we call a thinker, but with a false consciousness.10 The actual motives by which he is impelled remain hidden from him, for otherwise it would not be an ideological process. Hence the motives he supposes himself to have are either false or illusory.11 In this case, ideology is defined as false consciousness, while this ‘falsity’ is explained by Engels as the ignorance of underlying motives. Although the term false consciousness was never used by Marx, it is often associated with ideology by commentators. However, much disagreement exists among Marxists about whether interpreting ideology as false consciousness represents a viable option, as the concept has been harshly criticised in the past 40 years.12 The controversy is not over yet, because Marx’s notion of commodity fetishism is also associated with ideology. However, the term ideology does not appear in the subsection of Capital Volume I addressing fetishism13, in fact, it hardly ever appears in Capital Volume I at all.14 Ideology and fetishism are perhaps associated due to the language employed by Marx in the subsection. Since the term fetishism traditionally refers to religious practices, the concept is sometimes associated with Marx’s critique of religion (which, in turn, is often associated with ideology). Furthermore, Marx claims that 10 For some reason, the translation used in Marx and Engels (2010) Collected Works (used here for reference) translates falschen as ‘spurious’. I took the liberty of changing the translation back to ‘false consciousness’. 11 Engels, F. (2004) p. 164. 12 Hall, S. (1988) p. 44. McCarney, J. (1980) pp. 96–97. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 29. Eagleton, T. (1991) pp. 10–17. 13 Engels, F. (2004) p. 163. 14 One interesting use of the term by Marx is when he talks of ‘the “ideological” classes, such as government officials, priests, lawyers, soldiers’ (Marx, K. (1990) p. 574). The inclusion of soldiers here is puzzling unless one understands the concept very broadly.

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commodities have a ‘mystical’, ‘enigmatic’, ‘mysterious’ character15, and connects this mystical character with the way in which they appear to agents engaged with the economic process.16 This language has led some commentators to argue that Marx is here proposing a framework through the concepts of essence and appearance. This reading of Marx has perhaps been encouraged by Marx’s employment of scientific analogies throughout the subsection.17 Again, disagreement exists on whether the concept of fetishism is useful or compatible with what Marx says about ideology elsewhere.18 In my opinion, one of the underlying problems surrounding the concept of ideology within the Marxist tradition (that is yet to be noticed by commentators) is that the boundaries between Marx’s method and his theory of ideology are not clear. I decided to start this introduction by deconstructing Marx’s materialism and presenting it as a set of propositions so that this problem could be assessed analytically. The propositions are also useful because they make our job of comparing different interpretations of Marx’s historical materialism considerably easier. Now we can ask two important questions: What propositions present Marx’s general method? And which ones propose his theory of ideology? We must answer this to explain the role of ideology within the reproduction and development of the social and economic order. Indeed, our understanding of ideology depends on how we interpret the nine propositions, how we interpret key terminology, how we set the boundaries between Marx’s materialist method and his theory of ideology, and whether we decide to include the concepts of false consciousness and commodity fetishism in our theory. I am aware this sounds awfully complicated. An example might be useful. Imagine two interpretations of Marx’s historical materialism that are, at the same time, two interpretations of what ideology means within this theory. One interpretation could state that propositions one, two, and three constitute Marx’s materialist method, while propositions seven and eight are combined with false consciousness to obtain Marx’s theory of ideology. We can then argue that Marx’s historical materialism explains the development of society and its ideas by reference to economic logics (propositions one, two, and three). Within this method some ideas are then ‘set aside’ and understood as ideology because (seven and eight) they protect the interests of the ruling classes and present a distorted picture of the world (false consciousness). Hence, according to this interpretation the determination of ideas from economic logics (proposition three) would not make those ideas ideology (proposition three is assumed to be part of historical materialism rather than 15 16 17 18

Ibid., p. 164. Ibid., pp. 163–165. Ibid., pp. 167–168, 177. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 85, Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 48.

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his theory of ideology). Instead, ideology is singled out due to its epistemic qualities (false consciousness) and its role in protecting the interests of the ruling classes (seven and eight). However, another (very different) interpretation could state that while propositions one and two represent Marx’s historical materialist method, propositions three and four represent Marx’s theory of ideology. In this case, we would argue that Marx’s theory of ideology states that ideas are determined by economic logics and are part of the superstructure for this reason (so we would understand the base/superstructure distinction as having to do with material production/mental production). In this case, we would obtain a very broad definition of ideology by simply stating that the determination of ideas from economic logics (proposition three, that earlier was assumed to be part of historical materialism) now constitutes Marx’s theory of ideology. Potentially, all ideas can be classed as ideology according to this reading. While the first interpretation is narrower and addresses the specific role of ideology within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order, the second is so broad that for it to be true ideology’s functions must vary greatly. I hope that this example highlights the importance of setting the boundaries between historical materialism and Marx’s theory of ideology. However, these examples are simplistic because they present interpretations of Marx’s propositions superficially, without considering various ways in which the determinations described by the propositions are conceptualised by different authors, that in turns depends on how they interpret the propositions and key terminology. Overall, I believe that the differences within Marxist theories of ideology can be summarised as differences between:   

Interpretations of Marx’s key concepts and their relationships. Interpretations of what Marx means by determination. The boundary set between Marx’s method and his theory of ideology.

To construct our own Marxist theory of ideology and explain its roles within the reproduction of the social and economic order, we must begin by explaining and developing the nine propositions, as well as core concepts such as relations of production, productive forces, exploitation, material practice, etc. Marx and ideology:Introducing the controversy Most commentators acknowledge that Marx never produced a ‘theory of ideology’. Although the term can be found throughout his writings, its meaning is never explained. Marx’s use of the word is also inconsistent and ambiguous. Because of this, commentators offer different accounts of the notion. Although we want to argue that Marx did not have a theory of ideology, to prove this we must first discuss some of the definitions presented by Marxist authors, and understand how our nine propositions are interpreted by different commentators. To give some examples of those differences, in the next section, we will turn

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to Lukács and Althusser, two influential thinkers in the development of Marxist theory. Indeed, they present original interpretations of Marx’s historical materialism, as well as employing the term ideology in their writings. Although it is unclear whether they believed they were using the term in the same way as Marx was, both authors could be argued to have a theory of ideology that is coherent with their interpretation of historical materialism. Thus, the following section serves the purpose of easing our reader into the controversies surrounding Marx’s method and the concept of ideology. After that we will introduce a brief sketch of Rosen’s, Eagleton’s, Larrain’s, and Rehmann’s positions in relation to Marx’s materialism and his theory of ideology. Once we have gained a general understanding of their views, we will begin our journey into Marx’s works, starting from his early writings. Our focus will be to prove that despite what Rosen, Larrain, and Rehmann say in relation to the works of the young Marx, no embryonic definition of ideology can be found within those texts. Instead we will argue that salient passages singled out by commentators implicitly state an early elaboration of historical materialism. The fifth section will be wholly dedicated to The German Ideology, a work considered by most commentators to be central for understanding Marx’s theory of ideology. Due to the importance of this text for our theory, this section will be divided into subsections each dealing with different aspects of Marx’s historical materialism (material primacy, historic modes of production, division of labour, etc.). Here we will discuss key passages from Marx’s text while addressing and comparing the interpretations of our four authors. We will also explain key terminology employed by Marx throughout his writings. The sixth section will focus on the base/superstructure metaphor. In the final section, we will present our reconstruction of Marx’s theory, demonstrating the primacy of material production (the mode of production), his theory of the formation of ideas, and finally a provisional sketch of his theory of base/superstructure. My overall argument is that although Marx presents a coherent and consistent materialist method throughout his writings, along with a theory of the formation of ideas internal to this method, no consistent definition of ideology is provided in his texts. Let us now begin our journey by discussing Lukács’s and Althusser’s interpretations of historical materialism and ideology. Lukács and Althusser The base/superstructure metaphor (proposition two) does not play an important role in Lukács’s interpretation of historical materialism. Instead, in his famous work History and Class Consciousness, he argues that: ‘Marx’s dictum: “The relations of production of every society form a whole” is the methodological point of departure and the key to the historical understanding of social relations’.19 19 Lukács, G. (1971) p. 9.

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A similar point is made in The Ontology of Social Being Vol. 2: ‘Marx’s economics always starts from the totality of social being’.20 This could be considered Lukács’s way of interpreting proposition one without relying on proposition two. When Marx argues that material production conditions other realms of life, he is not arguing that material production determines them, but rather that those aspects of society should be understood as a totality. In this manner, the question of determination is avoided. Indeed, Lukács appears to reject theories of determination: ‘It is not the primacy of economic motives in historical explanation that constitutes the decisive difference between Marxism and bourgeois thought, but the point of view of totality’.21 In The Ontology of Social Being Vol.2, he interprets Marx’s historical materialist method as stating that certain elements of social life have ontological priority over others: If we ascribe one category ontological priority over the others, we simply mean that one of them can exist without the other, without the opposite being the case. This holds for the central thesis of all materialism, that being has ontological priority over consciousness. What this means ontologically is simply that there can be being without consciousness, while all consciousness must have something existent as its presupposition or basis. This does not involve any kind of value hierarchy between being and consciousness (…) It is just the same ontologically with the priority of the production and reproduction of human existence over other functions. (…) Marx says this clearly himself in the ‘Preface’ to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. The most important thing here is that it is the ‘sum total of relations of production’ that Marx considers as the ‘real foundation’ from which forms of consciousness develop.22 Lukács argues that the production and reproduction of human existence has ontological priority over other functions. Since according to Marx’s method (as we will see) the reproduction of human existence is carried out through the production, consumption, and (under capitalism) exchange of goods, we can understand that he is here referring to what Marx calls the economic base/structure. We can therefore argue that Lukács is here tackling proposition one, a reading that is strengthened by his explicit reference to the ‘1859 Preface’. The economy determines society only in the very loose sense of creating its objects and a great part of its daily social relations (everyone is part of the economy as a producer and/or consumer). In other words, the economic structure/base (production, exchange, distribution, consumption) has ontological priority over other activities because it makes those other activities 20 Lukács, G. (1978) p. 12. 21 Lukács, G. (1971) p. 27. 22 Lukács, G. (1978) p. 31.

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possible by creating objects and economic relations that are necessary for them to exist. Lukács also interprets proposition three as suggesting ontological primacy rather than strict determination/one-sided causation (note that the term ‘consciousness’ is often used by Marxist thinkers to refer to ideas). Hence, Lukács believes, Marx’s method does not argue that ideas are determined by economic logics, but rather that economic logics are necessary to sustain the human body, which is then necessary for the formation of ideas/ consciousness (since no ideas can exist without a brain, no brain can exist without a body, and nobody can be ‘kept alive’ without the production and consumption of the means of its sustenance). However, the idea of ontological priority seems to be dropped and replaced with the concept of totality when Lukács addresses proposition three again. In fact, he argues that Marx’s statement ‘does not reduce the world of consciousness with its forms and contents directly to the economic structure, but rather relates it to the totality of social existence. The determination of consciousness by social being is thus meant in a quite general sense’.23 Although Lukács appears to deny that proposition one has to do with determination, he seems to employ the models of determination suggested by propositions five and six. This is particularly clear in his analysis of real/ empirical ‘class consciousness’: Class consciousness implies a class-conditioned unconsciousness of one’s own socio-historical and economic condition. This condition is given as a definite structural relation, a definite formal nexus which appears to govern the whole of life. The ‘falseness’, the illusion implicit in this situation is in no sense arbitrary; it is simply the intellectual reflex of the objective economic structure.24 Lukács claims that since classes engage with the social world from different perspectives, their ideas and views of reality are determined by their position (proposition six). Proposition five is addressed insofar as different positions also entail different practical engagement with the world, while this practical activity (which forms ‘a definitive formal nexus’) also contributes in shaping the way in which the individual thinks about the world. This one-sided experience of society leads to a failure to understand one’s place within the socio-economic order: ‘From the vantage point of a particular class the totality of existing society is not visible’.25 Therefore, Lukács treats the ideas individuals make about society from their peculiar perspective as ‘false’.

23 Ibid., p. 32. 24 Lukács, G. (1971) p. 52. 25 Ibid.

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In the case of the bourgeois, this falseness seems inevitable: ‘The barrier which converts the class consciousness of the bourgeoisie into “false” consciousness is objective; it is the class situation itself. It is the objective result of the economic set-up, and is neither arbitrary, subjective nor psychological’.26 On the other hand, Lukács claims that ‘the class-outlook of the proletariat provide(s) a vantagepoint from which to survey the whole of society’.27 However, this does not mean that the proletariat automatically perceives society as a whole, but rather that their structural position makes this possible. This leads Lukács to distinguish between empirical/real consciousness (that is, what actual workers think about social reality) and so-called ‘imputed consciousness’: By relating consciousness to the whole of society it becomes possible to infer the thoughts and feelings which men would have in a particular situation if they were able to assess both it and the interests arising from it in their impact on immediate action and on the whole structure of society. That is to say, it would be possible to infer the thoughts and feelings appropriate to their objective situation.28 Imputed consciousness can be understood as the worldview individuals belonging to the working class would have if they could assess their situation ‘objectively’ (by viewing society in its totality, in accordance with Lukács’s Marxism). Reaching this stage of consciousness is essential because ‘this understanding is the inescapable precondition of its actions’.29 In fact, selfknowledge and grasping totality seems to coincide: ‘From its own point of view self-knowledge coincides with knowledge of the whole so that the proletariat is at one and the same time the subject and object of its own knowledge’.30 Now that we have dealt with Lukács’s methodological premises, let us consider his use of the term ideology. In the past, commentators have claimed that Lukács holds a negative definition of ideology characterised by ‘false consciousness’.31 Indeed, this term often appears within History and Class Consciousness. However, today the consensus seems to be that although the term false consciousness is associated with ideology in Lukács’s texts, ideology is not characterised by its falseness but rather by its role within class struggle. For example, Larrain claims that ‘Lukács conceived of ideologies as expressions of different class interests, and in struggle with one another’.32 Joe McCarney similarly argues that ‘Lukács like Marx, is prepared to invoke the 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Ibid., p. 54. Ibid., p. 20. Ibid., p. 52. Ibid., p. 20. Ibid. See for example McDonough, R. (1978) and Adlam, D. (1977) p. 15. Larrain J. (1983) p. 71.

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notion of ideology only in connection with the class struggle’.33 Eagleton also rejects interpretations of Lukács conception of ideology as ‘false consciousness’: Lukacs takes over from aspects of the Second International the positive, non-pejorative sense of the word ideology, writing unembarrassedly for Marxism as ‘the ideological expression of the proletariat’;34 and this is at least one reason why the widespread view that ideology for him is synonymous with false consciousness is simply mistaken.35 Scholars contest the identification of ideology with false consciousness because Lukács often uses the term ideology to refer to Marxism, implying that not all ideologies are ‘false’. According to the passages we have discussed so far, it seems that for Lukács false consciousness is a product of the onesided perception of the social world that results from the individual viewing this world from a particular perspective within the division of labour. I agree with these commentators who argue that false consciousness is not necessarily an element of what Lukács calls ideology. Instead, it represents a methodological assumption resulting from the relationship between individuals’ positions within the division of labour and their understanding of social reality. In other words, false consciousness is treated by Lukács as an implication of proposition six. The empirical/real consciousness of classes is necessarily false, because they either see the world from the perspective of their position within the division of labour (this seems to apply to the bourgeoisie) or because they fall victim to fetishism (both the bourgeoisie and the proletariat). Only the proletariat possess a latent capacity to view society as a totality (that is, according Marx’s materialism) but this conception must be imputed by revolutionary intellectuals. Let us now come back to Lukács’s conception of ideology. As we have seen, according to commentators, the term does not entail any value judgement, but rather singles out ideas that relate to class struggle and interests. However, Lukács never defines ideology, class struggle, and class interests, while the relationship between those concepts is not clear either. We might assume that ideologies ‘express’ class interests. But then what are the standards for singling out ideas that contribute to class struggle by expressing class interests? Furthermore, the relationship between class consciousness and ideology is never explained by Lukács, which raises the question of whether he thought the two were the same thing. However, equating class consciousness (as defined by Lukács) with ideology is problematic. In fact, if we take class consciousness to be the particular perspective that individuals of a class form about the world and themselves, then this definition would also include 33 McCarney, J. (1980) p. 45. 34 Lukács, G. (1971) p. 258. 35 Eagleton T. (1991) pp. 94–95.

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systems of thought (e.g., technical knowledge) or personal judgements that might have little to do with class struggle. Thus, it is difficult to understand how the concept of ideology could be defined, if not in a very abstract way (having to do with class struggle/interests) that begs more questions than it answers. Let us now reconstruct Lukács’s historical materialism and his theory of ideology: Lukács’s historical materialist assumptions are as follows: 1 2

3

4

Social reality should be studied in its totality. (Proposition one) interpreted as: Marx’s materialism states the ontological priority of the economy over other elements of society (it is not a theory of causation). The consciousness of individuals is determined by their position within the division of labour (proposition six), which, (together with fetishism) lead to distorted understandings of the world (false consciousness). Although the proletariat falls prey to false consciousness, it also has (as a latent potentiality) the chance to know reality in its totality (that is according to Marx’s materialism). Hence Lukács’s theory of ideology:

1 2

Ideology has to do with class struggle and class interests. Ideology is connected to class consciousness.

As we see, although Lukács’s method seems consistent, his theory of ideology is too vague. Nevertheless, his interpretation of historical materialism, with its emphasis on totality, is certainly original, while his interpretation of proposition one as stating ontological priority can indeed represent a persuasive way to get around the problem of determination (we will come back to ontological priority on pp. 69–70). However, one could argue that the ontological reading of proposition one clashes with Lukács’s assumption that the ideas of individuals are determined by their position within the division of labour. Furthermore, the idea of individuals being ‘blocked’ from understanding society in its totality due to their class position is debatable and suggests a very deterministic reading of proposition six. If what Lukács claims is true, how could Marx (who was a bourgeois) himself have come up with his method? Now that we have dealt with Lukács’s materialism and his theory of ideology, let us turn to Althusser. Althusser addresses propositions one, two, and four within a single paragraph in Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses: Marx conceived the structure of every society as constituted by ‘levels’ or ‘instances’ articulated by a specific determination: the infrastructure, or economic base (the ‘unity’ of the productive forces and the relations of

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Historical materialism and ideology production) and the superstructure, which itself contains two ‘levels’ or ‘instances’: the politico-legal (law and the State) and ideology (the different ideologies, religious, ethical, legal, political, etc.).36

Althusser acknowledges some ‘specific determination’ in relation to the base and superstructure metaphor, as well as arguing that ideologies are, along with the state,37 part of the superstructure. The fact that Althusser mentions religious, ethical, and legal ideologies, might mean that he does not use the concept to describe ideas in general, meaning that only certain types of ideas are considered ideology/superstructure. Althusser then explains that: The object of the metaphor of the edifice is to represent above all the ‘determination in the last instance’ by the economic base. (…) the determination in the last instance of what happens in the upper ‘floors’ (of the superstructure) by what happens in the economic base. Given this index of effectivity ‘in the last instance’, the ‘floors’ of the superstructure are clearly endowed with different indices of effectivity. (…). Their index of effectivity (or determination), as determined by the determination in the last instance of the base, is thought by the Marxist tradition in two ways: (1) there is a ‘relative autonomy’ of the superstructure with respect to the base; (2) there is a ‘reciprocal action’ of the superstructure on the base.38 Let us unpack this interesting passage. First, when Althusser talks of ‘last instance’ he is referring to Engels’ remark that ‘according to the materialist view of history, the determining factor in history is, in the final analysis, the production and reproduction of actual life’.39 Just like Engels in his letter, Althusser tries to deal with the daunting task of explaining how determination is involved within the structure/superstructure metaphor while avoiding forms of economic reductionism (e.g., understanding this relationship as monocausal: the development of the structure directly determines the superstructure). Althusser offers two solutions for the problem (although it is ambiguous whether he accepts both): 1) we declare the relative autonomy of the superstructure or/and 2) we argue that the superstructure reacts on the base. Althusser does not fully develop either suggestion. Instead, he borrows the concept of ‘overdetermination’ from Freud, and seemingly uses it to express this ‘multi-causal’ relationship between base and superstructure. In Reading Capital, he argues that:

36 Althusser L. (2014) p. 237. 37 The state is considered as part of the superstructure by virtually every Marxist thinker that still accepts the metaphor. 38 Ibid., pp. 237–238. 39 Engels, F. (2004) p. 34.

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This text is discussing the determination of certain structures of production which are subordinate to a dominant structure of production, i.e., the determination of one structure by another and of the elements of a subordinate structure by the dominant, and therefore determinant structure. I have previously attempted to account for this phenomenon with the concept of overdetermination, which I borrowed from psychoanalysis.40 Despite his efforts to tackle the elusive question, no clear account explaining overdetermination is provided. Nevertheless, some attempts have been made to elaborate the concept, most notably by Stephen Resnick and Richard Wolff in their book Knowledge and Class: A Marxian Critique of Political Economy,41 and by Callinicos in Althusser’s Marxism.42 Another important notion in Althusser’s interpretation of historical materialism is the so-called ‘epistemological break’, that he employs to ‘designate the mutation in the theoretical problematic contemporary with the foundation of a scientific discipline’.43 This concept is used to highlight distinctions between what Althusser dubs as Marx’s Early Works (until 1844), the Works of the Break (1845), the Transitional Works (1845–57) and finally the Mature Works (after 1857).44 Althusser argues that: ‘This “epistemological break” divides Marx’s thought into two long essential periods: the “ideological” period before, and the scientific period after, the break in 1845’.45 While the early works are characterised by Althusser as ideological, The Works of the Break (in particular The German Ideology and Theses on Feuerbach), express ‘a state of rupture with its past, playing a pitiless game of deadly criticism with all its erstwhile theoretical presuppositions: primarily with Ludwig Feuerbach and Friedrich Hegel and all the forms of a philosophy of consciousness and an anthropological philosophy’.46 This rejection of Hegel’s and Feuerbach’s ‘anthropological philosophy’ is more or less equated by Althusser with a rejection of ideology and as the beginning of a new science that is developed by Marx in his later economic works. In other words, Althusser understands Hegel’s philosophy as ideology, so that Marx’s early works are also considered as ideological due Hegel’s influence. Once Marx breaks with the Hegelian tradition, he consequentially also breaks with ideology and develops his scientific method. The concept of an epistemological break, along with the ideology/science dichotomy are also used throughout Althusser’s works. Indeed, he believes 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

Althusser, L. (1998) p. 188. Resnick, S. and Wolff, R. (1989) pp. 92–93, 291–292. Callinicos, A. (1976) p. 39. Althusser, L. (2005) p. 32. Ibid., pp. 34–35. Ibid., p. 34. Ibid., p. 36.

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that by understanding Marx’s own epistemological break we can deduce a method which it becomes possible to separate ideology from science. One way of recognising ideology is explained by Althusser in Reading Capital through the idea of the ‘problematic’.47 Eagleton summarises this approach well: An ideological problematic turns around certain eloquent silences and elisions; and it is so constructed that the questions which are posable within it already presuppose certain kinds of answer. Its fundamental structure is thus closed, circular and self-confirming: wherever one moves within it, one will always be ultimately returned to what is securely known, of which what is unknown is merely an extension or repetition. (…) A scientific problematic, by contrast, is characterized by its openendedness: it can be ‘revolutionized’ as new scientific objects emerge and a new horizon of questions opens up.48 Ideologies are recognised as such because they frame the questions they seek to answer in a ‘closed and circular way’ so that the question posed already presupposes a given answer. On the other hand, science is characterised by its ‘openness’, and because of this, it can lead to genuine advancements of knowledge. Although one meaning of ideology is framed by its contraposition to Marx’s method (and science), another meaning is also elaborated in Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses. Here ideology is treated as an element internal to Marx’s historical materialism and the structure/superstructure metaphor. Indeed, the question of ideology is framed from the perspective of ‘the reproduction of the conditions of capitalist production’.49 First of all, ideology is situated by Althusser within what he calls the ‘Ideological State Apparatuses (ISAs)’: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

the the the the the the the the

Scholastic Apparatus Familial Apparatus Religious Apparatus Political Apparatus Associative Apparatus Information and News Apparatus Publishing and Distribution Apparatus Cultural Apparatus.50

These apparatuses serve the purpose of supporting underlying economic logics. Furthermore, although each ISA is 47 48 49 50

Althusser, L. (1998) p. 52. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 137. Althusser, L. (2014) p. 1. Ibid., p. 75.

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defined as ideological, (it) is not reducible to the existence ‘of ideas’ without a concrete, material support. I mean by this not only that the ideology of each ISA is realized in material institutions and material practices; that is clear. I mean something else: that these material practices are ‘anchored’ in non-ideological realities.51 In other words, the term ideological does not refer to ideas in general, but rather denotes the unity between ideas produced by these apparatuses and their underlying practices. It could be argued that this is Althusser’s way of interpreting proposition five. Ideas are determined by material practice because specific forms of practical organisation (represented by the different ISAs) produce corresponding ideas. Furthermore, ‘the unity of the different ISAs is secured, usually in contradictory forms, by the ruling ideology, the ideology of the ruling class’.52 P. Q. Hirst understands this passage as saying that ‘the unity of the ideological apparatuses lies outside of them, in the ideological unity of the ruling class. This unity in turn lies outside of it, in the unity of that class as a class’.53 According to this interpretation, Althusser is here pointing out that the unity of different ideologies presented by various ISAs is given by their conformity to bourgeois ideology, that is in turn grounded on the economic structure. Another way of understanding this claim is to suggest that Althusser is pointing towards his distinction between ‘ideology in general and particular ideologies’. Although he never defines ideology in general, he wants to distinguish it from the ideologies created by ISAs. He explains that ‘the project of a theory of ideology in general’ is not the same as ‘a theory of particular ideologies, which, whatever their form (religious, ethical, legal, political), always express class positions’.54 He also characterised ideology in general as having no history.55 So, how should we understand this concept? According to Rehmann, the concept is defined by Althusser ‘through the function of constituting concrete individuals as subjects’.56 Thus when Althusser shifts the discussion towards the problem of ideology in general, he is concerned with the mechanisms through which individuals are constituted as social subjects (that is, as individuals capable of understanding and dealing with their social surroundings) In this respect, ideology is then defined as the ‘imaginary relation to their real conditions of existence’.57 Hence, for Althusser ideology represents the means through which individuals understand and act upon social reality, even though he argues that ‘these ideologies do not correspond to reality and, accordingly, 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Ibid., p. 76. Ibid., p. 274. Hirst, P. Q. (1979) p. 394. Althusser, L. (2014) p. 253. Ibid., p. 254. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 155. Althusser, L. (2014) p. 181.

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constitute an illusion’.58 However, this claim appears to clash with the claim that ideologies ‘in general’ socialise individuals. If ideologies connect individuals to their surroundings, how can they be illusory? This is especially problematic given the role ideology plays in creating the subjects: ‘the category of the subject is constitutive of every ideology only insofar as every ideology has the function (which defines it) of ‘constituting’ concrete subjects (such as you and me)’.59 The constitution/creation of subjects is achieved through the mechanism Althusser calls ‘hailing’: ‘ideology’ ‘acts’ or ‘functions’ in such a way as to ‘recruit’ subjects among individuals (it recruits them all) or ‘transforms’ individuals into subjects (it transforms them all) through the very precise operation that we call interpellation or hailing. It can be imagined along the lines of the most commonplace, everyday hailing, by (or not by) the police: ‘Hey, you there!’60 As Rehmann succinctly puts it, this is, for Althusser, the basic mechanism of ideology: by turning around and responding, the individuals recognise themselves as the ones being called upon; they recognise and accept their identity in the interpellation, and this is what transforms them into subjects.61 Finally, Althusser was aware of propositions seven and eight, as he often talks of dominant ideology.62 Let us now summarise our reading of Althusser’s Marxism. We have seen that Althusser tries to deal with the problem of determination implied by propositions one and two through the concepts of overdetermination. He also suggests that the relative autonomy of the superstructure and the idea that the superstructure reacts on the base could be viewed as viable solutions to the issue. Then Althusser presents an original interpretation of Marx’s works which is characterised by the so called ‘epistemological break’, denoting a shift in Marx’s method from ‘ideological’ to ‘scientific’. This implies a theory of ideology which contraposes it with science. Althusser’s theory is further developed through his analysis of the ISAs (ideologies in particular) and his theory of ideology in general which recruits individuals and constitutes them as subjects through the mechanism of ‘hailing’. Althusser’s understanding of ideology has created much debate among commentators. For example, McCarney argues that ‘it is as if “ideology” and 58 59 60 61 62

Ibid. Ibid., p. 188. Ibid. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 156. See for example Althusser, L. (2005) p. 106, Althusser, L. (1998) pp. 45, 93, 225, Althusser, L. (2014) pp. XXV, 51, 52, 89, 137, 138, 141, 145, 157, 220, 221, 224.

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“science” were metaphysical entities whose essences have to be extracted by the theorist and displayed in their fundamental opposition’.63 Similarly, Eagleton claims that ‘in a regression to Enlightenment rationalism, Althusser in effect equates the opposition between science and ideology with one between truth and error’.64 Finally, Larrain points out that Althusser’s distinction between the theory of ideology in general and the theory of particular ideologies is highly problematic for a Marxist approach. It entails the pretension of constituting ideology as an immutable object of study across the various modes of production.65 Although I agree with McCarney’s and Eagleton’s comments, I think Larrain misinterprets Althusser’s theory of ideology. I am not sympathetic to Althusser’s approach, but despite its weaknesses, his theory seems coherent. The three models of ideology are compatible with one another. First, the ideology/ science dichotomy is linked with ISAs’ production of ideologies in the passages dealing with the ‘problematic’: The whole history of Western philosophy is dominated not by the ‘problem of knowledge’, but by the ideological solution, i.e., the solution imposed in advance by practical, religious, ethical and political ‘interests’ foreign to the reality of the knowledge, which this ‘problem’ had to receive.66 Ideological ways of framing the problem of knowledge are determined by practical logics that are outside the realm of knowledge. I take this to mean that this knowledge is ideological because it has been produced by the various ISAs, which are also seen as instruments of class struggle/domination. The distinction between ISAs’ ideologies and ideology in general also makes sense. Althusser is not claiming that (as Larrain asserts) ‘ideology is an immutable object of study’. He rather argues that ideology has no history, which does not at all mean that it has no history (quite the opposite, since it is but a pale reflection, empty and inverted, of real history), but, rather, that it has no history of its own.67 Ideology has no history ‘of its own’ in the sense that its actual history is always linked to ISAs. Althusser is not arguing that ideology does not change, but quite the opposite: ideologies are always created in accordance with 63 64 65 66 67

McCarney, J. (1980) p. 64. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 138. Larrain, J. (1979) pp 159–160. Althusser, L. (1998) p. 53. Althusser, L. (2014) p. 175.

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practices and apparatuses that lie outside of ideology, but within history. The concept of ideology in general does not seek to de-historicise ideology, but rather to isolate universal features that ideology possesses throughout history. According to Althusser, these features are represented by ideology’s role of constituting the subject through the mechanism of hailing. Of course, whether this is true is debatable, but Althusser’s theory of ideology is coherently tied together. Although ideologies are always created by ISAs and depend on specific practical logics and interests, the common feature of these historically contingent ideologies is that they constitute the subject through the mechanism of hailing. Their role is always that of constituting the subject, and in that respect, they are universal and a-historical. Let us now summarise Althusser’s Marxism and his theory of ideology: Althusser’s historical materialist assumptions: 1 2

3

(Propositions one and two) interpreted as: overdetermination, relative autonomy of the superstructure, the superstructure reacts to the base. (Proposition three) interpreted as: the superstructure includes ‘religious, ethical, legal, political’ ideas and perhaps (ambiguous) practices (ideology is both theory and practice for Althusser68) connected to them. Marx’s works are read as implying an epistemological break between ideology and science. Althusser’s theory of ideology:

1 2

3

Ideology is defined in contraposition to science/Marx’s method. (Proposition five) interpreted as: the form and content of ideologies is determined by the material apparatuses (ISAs) creating them, and the interests they express. Ideology in general is defined by its role in constituting the subject through the mechanism of hailing.

I hope that our discussion of Lukács and Althusser has helped to clarify the problems surrounding historical materialism and ideology, as well as showing their different interpretations. Marxist authors tend to pick certain concepts/statements from Marx while ignoring/rejecting others. However, virtually every Marxist since Marx himself has been preoccupied with interpreting Marx’s theories of determination in ways that would avoid forms of economic reductionism. As we have seen, this aspect of the controversy was important for both Lukács and Althusser. Our analysis of the two thinkers has also illustrated the kind of problems the present work will seek to address and those it will reject. First, conceptions of ideology that seek to demarcate Marx’s theory from others by postulating certain ‘types of error’ (like Althusser’s ideology/science 68 Ibid., p. 184–185.

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dichotomy) will only be discussed critically. This is because this approach appears to me to be setting up an impossible enterprise. Of course, I do believe that Marx’s method is superior to others (otherwise I would not be writing this), but I do not think this superiority can be proved by postulating a series of mistakes/errors that other theories make. Such errors can instead be pointed out in each case, through critique, but I believe we cannot ‘generalise’ those criticisms through some sort of ‘ready-made’ formulas. The merits and weaknesses of a theory are not only dependent on the theory itself, but also on what sort of phenomena it seeks to address. Take for example Say’s Law stating that ‘supply creates its own demand’ and the consequent neoclassical idea of ‘equilibrium’. A Marxist would view this construct as plainly false. However, that would depend on what we employ this framework for. It could not be applied to understand the logics of capitalism. However, even a Marxist would have to concede that this could be an appropriate framework to understand the economic logics of small hippie communes or Marx’s own examples of Robinson Crusoe and ‘patriarchal rural industry’ (where production is made directly for consumption) in Capital Volume I (see pp.). In other words, no general framework for singling out ‘error’ can be made, because whether a theory is mistaken does not entirely depend on the theory itself but also on what kind of social phenomena it seeks to explain. Second, Engels’ concept of false consciousness will only be discussed (critically) in relation to Eagleton’s and Rosen’s interpretations of Marx’s theory of ideology. In fact, my own approach to ideology explicitly rejects the idea that it should be characterised by its falseness. My issue with false consciousness is not so much that it assumes (to quote Hall) ‘that vast numbers of ordinary people, mentally equipped much in the same way as you or I, can simply be thoroughly and systematically duped into misrecognising entirely where their real interests lie’.69 The problem is rather that it presupposes a true consciousness, and the distinction between individual and objective interests (Lukács’s distinction between real and imputed class consciousness is an early example of this dichotomy). The problem is that if we attempt to imagine what individuals would do in an ideal situation, or try to describe objective interests which must belong to all members of a class, we end up abstracting too much from reality, and denaturing Marx’s method by adding metaphysical constructions to it. Another reason why I reject the concept of false consciousness is that it would necessarily lead us to questions concerning the ‘truth’ of Marx’s method in contraposition to other theories (that is the problem discussed in the previous paragraph). This book presents a theory of ideology within Marx’s historical materialism itself, rather than a theory that helps us recognise the difference between ideology (understood in the negative sense of false knowledge) and Marx’s method. Since (as the examples of Lukács and Althusser should have shown) both Marx’s historical materialism and his theory of ideology are 69 Hall, S. (1988) p. 44.

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still widely debated, this work will try to develop an original interpretation of his ideas. Note that, although some general features of historical materialism will be explained in this chapter, this theory is specifically tailored to explain the reproduction of the socio-economic order under contemporary western liberal democracies. The controversy today Now that we have discussed our examples to illustrate the variety in Marxist theories of ideology and the ways in which they interpret our nine propositions, let us present a brief sketch of some of the more contemporary works on the subject. In his book On Voluntary Servitude: False Consciousness and the Theory of Ideology, Rosen argues that Marx presented five different ‘models of ideology’ throughout his writings.70. Similarly, in Ideology: an Introduction Eagleton distinguishes between the concept of ideology outlined by Marx in the German Ideology (although the text ‘hesitates significantly between a political and an epistemological definition of ideology’71), the one entailed by the ‘base and superstructure model’ outlined in the ‘1859 Preface’, and the concept of ‘commodity fetishism’ found in Capital Volume I. Throughout his analysis of Marx’s conception of ideology Eagleton attempts to show that these different ‘models’ are not only problematic but also often incompatible with one another.72 On the other hand, Rehmann argues that: Marx and Engels certainly did not elaborate an explicit and systematic ideology-theory (…). Rather, they used the concept of ideology ad hoc, in concrete circumstances, mostly in confrontation with various opponents. This does not mean, however, that they utilised the term in an arbitrary way, or that their reflections were without theoretical validity. On the contrary, (…) one can see that their different usages were held together by an implicit coherence.73 Larrain is of a similar opinion, as he states that ‘although the elements of Marx’s concept of ideology are scattered, and are sometimes ambiguously presented, there is a remarkable continuity and consistency in Marx’s treatment’.74 According to Ricoeur, Marx’s conception of ideology develops consistently throughout his works. The notion is thus viewed as an integral part of Marx’s framework emerging in his attempt to articulate his methodology. However, Ricoeur argues that the specific meaning of ideology develops into 70 71 72 73 74

Rosen, M. (1996) pp. 168–222. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 79. Ibid., pp. 69–91. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 21. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 41.

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two different dichotomies of opposites. While in the early works ideology is opposed to the concept of praxis, in later works it is conceived in opposition to science: Starting from this first concept of ideology, in which I insist that ideology is not opposed to science but to praxis, the second stage of the Marxist concept arises after Marxism has been developed in the form of a theory and even a system. This stage comes into view in Capital and subsequent Marxist writings, especially the work of Engels. Here Marxism itself appears as a body of scientific knowledge. An interesting transformation of the concept of ideology follows from this development. Ideology now receives its meaning from its opposition to science.75 These authors seem to agree on the fact that Marx used the term ideology ambiguously, but they disagree on whether Marx’s method and his use of the term ideology are coherent. So, while the works of Eagleton and Rosen tend to be very critical of Marx, Larrain’s, Rehmann’s, and Ricoeur’s are more sympathetic and even try to develop Marx’s insights into the world of ideology. Furthermore, all these authors link Marx’s treatment of ideology with his criticisms of religion, the Hegelian tradition, and political economy, as well as arguing that Marx gave ideology a derogatory/negative meaning. However, while Eagleton and Rosen claim that the remarks made by Marx concerning ideology throughout those critiques are inconsistent, Larrain, Ricoeur, and Rehmann argue for their consistency precisely because the term is used to criticise different traditions of thought. Larrain, Ricoeur and Rehmann therefore agree on methodological consistency, even though only Larrain claims Marx had one single and coherent definition of ideology that he employed throughout his writings: The critical and negative connotations are maintained throughout. But also, and most important, this negative dimension is always utilised for a critique of a specific kind of error which is connected in one way or another with the concealment or distortion of a contradictory inverted reality.76 Finally, all authors seem to agree on the fact that Marx’s use of the term ideology implies a negative/critical conception. This seems to be more or less the consensus today, with the notable exception of McCarney, who argues that Marx holds a ‘neutral conception’ of ideology which is compatible with the theories of V. I. Lenin, Lukács and Gramsci.77 Nevertheless, this negative meaning is understood in different ways. While Rosen and Eagleton often 75 Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 6. 76 Ibid., p. 42. 77 McCarney, J. (1980) pp. 1–31.

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read the term ideology as implying false consciousness, Larrain keeps the negative connotation of the term but translates it into the notion of ‘concealment of social contradiction’. So, according to Larrain, ideology is a critical concept that is used to identify false/distorted conceptions that can be said to conceal ‘social contradictions’78 (rather than false/distorted ideas in general). Although Rehmann also sees the concept of ideology as negative (while seemingly rejecting false consciousness79), its specific meaning seems to depend on what Marx is criticising in each instance. Finally, Ricoeur argues that while the concept of ideology often has negative undertones in Marx’s works, a ‘neutral’ notion can also be singled out: ‘The concept of ideology may be large enough to cover not only distortions but all representations (…). Ideology may sometimes be a neutral concept’.80 Although ideology might often be a distorted representation of reality, Ricoeur argues that what characterises ideology is not its falseness/inaccuracy but its being a symbolic representation: ‘For Marx the ideological is that which is reflected by means of representations’.81 Distortions within ideology are only possible due to its representative/symbolic status: If social reality did not already have a social dimension, and therefore, if ideology, in a less polemical or less negatively evaluative sense, were not constitutive of social existence but merely distorting and dissimulating, then the process of distortion could not start. The process of distortion is grafted onto a symbolic function. Only because the structure of human social life is already symbolic can it be distorted.82 Although Ricoeur recognises the negative bent of the concept in Marx’s writings, his reading focuses on ideology’s role as a representation legitimising authority and creating consent rather than its characteristic distortions. He is interested in studying ideology as ‘as the code of interpretation that secures integration, (…) by justifying the present system of authority’.83 The early writings While discussing Marx’s early writings, Larrain argues that ‘at this stage the term ideology still does not appear, nor even is the notion of ideology clearly elaborated under different terms. However, the material elements of the future concept are already present and those are crucial for understanding the critical character which the concept later assumes’.84 In fact, he claims that ‘the 78 79 80 81 82 83 84

We will discuss this concept on page 88. Rehmann, J. (2013) pp. 27, 29, 31, 40, 44, 47. Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 77. Ibid., p. 76. Ibid., p. 10. Ibid., p. 13. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 11.

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negative content of ideology is anticipated in Marx’s critique of religion and of the Hegelian conception of the state’.85 Similarly, Rosen claims that: ‘Before the composition of The German Ideology, the term “ideology” clearly had little significance for Marx. However, while the term was not an important one for the young Marx, the critique of false consciousness certainly was’.86 Rosen links Marx’s theory of ideology with his early critique of Hegel and religion.87 The idea of an embryonic notion of ideology in Marx’s early criticism of religion is also explicitly supported by Rehmann.88 Ricoeur shares a similar view, even though more emphasis is put on the relationship between the concept of ideology and Marx’s formulation of his own materialist framework based on the notion of praxis: In his early works, Marx’s task is to determine what is the real. This determination will affect the concept of ideology, since ideology is all that is not this reality. (…) Marx’s early writings are a movement toward this identification between reality and praxis and, consequently, toward the constitution of the opposition between praxis and ideology.89 In my opinion, the views of those commentators are only partly right. Although I agree that Marx’s materialist method is consistent throughout his writings, reading Marx’s critique of religion and Hegelian philosophy as presenting ‘embryonic’ elaborations of ideology is symptomatic of a reading of Marx that conflates his materialist method with his theory of ideology (what I have called the problem of setting the boundaries pp. 66–67). Since I have argued that Marx does not have a coherent theory of ideology, I reject the claim that Marx’s early writings present an embryonic conception of ideology, and instead argue that in his early works of critique, Marx is simply stating his materialist method. In this section, we will be discussing Marx’s early writings along with the interpretations of Larrain, Ricoeur, Rosen and Rehmann. The first work we will discuss is ‘Critique of Hegel’s Doctrine of the State’. According to Larrain’s interpretation of ideology (forms of thoughts that conceal social contradictions) the concept (although not to the term itself) is already present here: ‘Marx attempted to prove that the decisive problem was the inversion in thought which concealed the real nature of things’.90 Although the term inversion does not appear in the text, Larrain believes it is implicit in Marx’s criticism of Hegel: ‘Hegel identified being and thought and 85 86 87 88 89 90

Ibid. Rosen, M. (1996) p. 341. Rosen, M. (1996) pp. 341–348. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 26. Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 21. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 11.

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this led him to follow the history of the abstract idea as if it were “the real”, while real human practice was transformed into a mere manifestation, a finite phase, of this Idea’.91 In fact, Marx argues that Hegel’s purpose is to narrate the life-history of abstract substance, of the Idea, and in such a history human activity etc. necessarily appears as the activity and product of something other than itself; he therefore represents the essence of man as an imaginary detail instead of allowing it to function in terms of its real human existence.92 Marx criticises Hegel because he reads history as the development of a metaphysical substance he calls ‘the Idea’. Therefore, empirical/real phenomena in Hegel’s reading are not evaluated in their own worth, but as an expression of this idea. Although Larrain does not explain what inversion is at play here, the following passage (arguably) makes it explicit: ‘The most simple thing becomes the most complicated and the most complicated becomes the most simple. What should be a starting-point becomes a mystical result and what should be a rational result becomes a mystical starting-point’.93 In other words, the explanatory role of ideas and reality is inverted. Instead of understanding ideas as manifestations of a given empirical reality, this reality is understood as the manifestation of Hegel’s ‘Idea’. Its starting point is something other than reality (‘the Idea’), while reality is conceived as a result of this mystical starting point. Although this seems to be Marx’s understanding of inversion in this case, we must highlight that Marx uses the term throughout his writings and its meaning greatly varies depending on the context. Thus, no formal definition of the concept will be presented in this work. Its meaning will be explained on an ad hoc basis. A second inversion94 is found by Larrain within Marx’s criticism of Hegel’s conception of the state. Marx is critical of Hegel’s philosophy for which ‘the state stands opposed to the sphere of the family and civil society as an “external necessity”, a power to which the “laws and interests” of that sphere are “subordinate” and on which they are “dependent”’.95 The concept of civil society had become prominent within German philosophy due to Hegel’s employment of the term (although Hegel ‘borrowed’ this term from British political economy) to describe the social and economic spheres of interaction between individuals – what we might call the private sphere of social life. Hegel conceives civil society in contraposition to the state, whose role is that 91 92 93 94 95

Ibid. Marx, K. (1992b) p. 98. Ibid., pp. 99–100. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 12. Marx, K. (1992b) p. 59.

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of attempting to reconcile individuals’ interests with society’s general interest (of which the state is a representative).96 To resolve this ‘antagonism’ between individual and general interests Hegel advocates a reformed version of medieval estates. Because of this, Marx argues that Hegel inverts the relationship between the state and civil society so that the latter is understood as being determined by the former: He wants the ‘absolute universal’, the political state, to determine civil society instead of being determined by it. He resuscitates the form of the medieval estates but reverses their meaning by causing them to be determined by the political state.97 For Marx, the state is not the ‘driving force’ within society, it rather represents the expression of bourgeois interests in its legal form. The specific laws implemented by a state are determined by what goes on within civil society. Thus, for Marx the idea of the ‘state’ as an expression of the ‘general will’ is simply an illusion, while Hegel’s understanding of the state/civil society relation is inverted. According to Larrain,98 Hegel’s philosophy has the effect of concealing the ‘actual/real’ contradictions between the interests of individuals by inverting the relationship between civil society and the state and by conferring on the latter the power of resolving such contradictions. The rationale behind Larrain’s argument is that a conflict exists between the interests of individuals and groups within civil society. This conflict is understood as a contradiction. Since Hegel believes conflicts are unified within ‘the Idea’, he conceals these contradictions by postulating their resolution within an abstract/metaphysical realm. There are some issues with Larrain’s analysis. The main problem is that although the term contradiction plays a very important part in his theory of ideology, it is never defined. This issue has already been highlighted by György Markus: ‘“Contradiction”, in Larrain’s use, remains an illusive metaphor without any clear content’.99 Indeed, Larrain uses the term throughout his analysis of ideology. For example, he talks of ‘contradictions of capitalism’,100 ‘contradictions which prompt a section of the ruling class to cut itself adrift and join the revolutionary class’,101 ‘contradictions in consciousness’ and ‘the contradictions of material life’,102 the contradictions ‘generated’ by ‘the domination of material

96 97 98 99 100 101 102

Ibid. Marx, K. (1992b) p. 158. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 12. Markus, G. (1987) p. 83. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 7. Ibid., p. 26. Ibid.

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conditions over individuals’,103 ‘contradictions between labour and capital’,104 and ‘the terrain of contradictions’.105 Due to this variety of uses, Markus argues that ‘there is no possible definition of the concept “contradiction” which would make it applicable to all these categorically different cases; they have nothing in common’.106 Given this ambiguity, should we reject the concept of contradiction? After all, Marx is also guilty of using this term (without defining it) throughout his writings to describe very different phenomena. I believe that although Marx’s and Larrain’s uses of the term cannot be all summed up under one definition, setting a specific meaning for the concept of contradiction is nevertheless important for our understanding of Marx’s historical materialism. Thus, I propose the definition presented by Lawrence Crocker: A and B are contradictory if and only if 1 2 3

A and B are both processes A and B have natural paths of development The natural path of development of A and the natural path of development of B cannot be jointly realised.107

According to this definition, only if a process’s development is hindered by another process, can we argue that the two processes are in contradiction with one another. The relevance of this definition for Marx’s materialism, will be highlighted later (pp. 99–100). Let us now go back to Larrain’s analysis of Marx’s early works. Larrain is right to say that Marx criticises Hegel insofar as he inverts the relationship between empirical reality and thought, and between the state and civil society. However, this does not necessarily lead us to the conclusion that Marx thinks Hegelian philosophy conceals social contradictions. Even if we were to understand social contradictions, very broadly, as meaning conflict, this would not help prove Larrain’s point that Marx’s critique of Hegel presents an embryonic conception of ideology. In regard to the first inversion, we could say that Hegel somehow justifies social contradictions by saying that empirical reality is an expression of ‘the Idea’, and that in the idea such contradictions are unified. But in what sense can this be said to be a form of ‘concealment’? Even if actual conflicts were resolved in thought, this does not imply that those contradictions would not be ‘perceived’ anymore. A similar reasoning applies to the second inversion. One might argue that Hegel justifies the existence of the state due to its role in mediating civil society’s interests, but how can this be equated with the concealment of contradictions? How can Hegel be concealing contradictions 103 104 105 106 107

Ibid., p. 28. Ibid., p. 39. Ibid., p. 89. Markus, G. (1987) p. 83. Crocker, L. (1980) p. 560.

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if he acknowledges the existence of conflicting interests? Finally, the general problem with Larrain’s interpretation is that, since he associates ideology with the concepts of inversion and contradiction, he tries to associate passages in which Marx uses those terms with his (supposed) theory of ideology. Whenever the two concepts appear, Larrain sees this as a clue that Marx is talking about ideology. As we will see, this method is also used to associate ideology with Marx’s critique of religion. Ricoeur’s analysis of Marx’s conception of ideology begins with the latter’s comments on religion in ‘A Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’. There Marx argues that ‘criticism of religion is the premise of all criticism’.108 From this (and other similar passages) Ricoeur deduces that ‘here we have the model for any critique of ideology. (…) Something has been inverted in human consciousness, and we have to invert the inversion: this is the procedure of the critique.’109 According to him, the inversion implied by Marx’s critique of religion is inspired by Feuerbach’s own criticism of religious thinking: In Christianity, said Feuerbach, subject and predicate are reversed. While in reality human beings are subjects who have projected onto the divine their own attributes (their own human predicates), in fact the divine is perceived by human beings as a subject of which we become the predicate. (…) Following Feuerbach, Marx assumes that religion is that paradigm, the first example, the primitive example, of such an inverted reflection of reality which turns everything upside down.110 Inversion in this case amounts to the idea that human beings project their own characteristics onto a transcendent being that supposedly created them at his image. Although, according to Ricoeur, this critique represents an embryonic notion of ideology, Marx’s own method is at this point still underdeveloped and relies on Feuerbach’s philosophy: ‘The abstract idea of humanity, taken from Feuerbach, is the continuing anthropological support for the entire analysis (…). Exactly who is the real subject, though, is precisely the problem faced by the young Marx.’111 The question is therefore: If religion represents an inverted form of thinking, where can we find the real/actual origins of this distorted conception? For Ricoeur, Marx’s works are driven by a search for the ‘real’ which ultimately determines the inverted (religious/ideological) thinking. Inversion as a critical concept against metaphysical thinking is then further developed by Ricoeur through the analysis of Marx’s critique of Hegel’s Idea and his understanding of the state/civil society dichotomy112 108 109 110 111 112

Marx, K. (1992a) p. 243. Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 23. Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 4. Ibid., p. 27. Ibid., p. 28–30.

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(previously discussed through our analysis of Larrain’s reading). Again, implicit in this criticism, Ricoeur reads the development of the concept of ideology as inverted thinking. Therefore, Larrain’s and Ricoeur’s interpretations appear similar, even though the former puts more emphasis on the concept of contradiction, while the latter focuses on inversion. The following passage is also central for scholars seeking to elaborate Marx’s theory of ideology: Religious suffering is at one and the same time the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.113 According to Larrain, here Marx anticipates one of the crucial elements of his concept of ideology, namely that religion compensates in the mind for a deficient reality; it reconstitutes in the imagination a coherent solution which goes beyond the real world in an attempt to resolve the contradictions of the real world.114 Similarly, Rosen claims that from Marx’s criticism of religion, it is already possible to see in outline the central claims made by the theory of ideology: 1 Religion is false consciousness. Although religion reflects profane reality, it is false to the extent that it carries with it the belief that it is not a reflection that takes its content from another realm but something autonomous. (…) 2 Religion maintains a profane world that is false. In particular, it conceals man’s own self-division from himself and enervates him so as not to feel the dissatisfaction with his own world that he rationally should do. 3 Finally, religion is a necessary product of this false world.115 So, although both authors agree in seeing Marx’s remarks as representing an embryonic form of his conception of ideology, Larrain sees this conception as entailing the concealment of social contradictions, while Rosen sees it as implying false consciousness. For Larrain, religion produces a coherent solution that is abstracted from reality, and by doing so it conceals its contradictions. For Rosen, religion creates consolation for the dissatisfaction individuals feel towards reality. Marx also criticises religion for being false. 113 Marx, K. (1992a) p. 244. 114 Larrain, J. (1983) p. 13. 115 Rosen, M. (1996) p. 347.

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Both authors then seem to agree that we should understand religious elaborations as the product of social reality, a reaction to the ‘real suffering’ which humans endure. This last view is also shared by Rehmann, who nevertheless rejects the interpretation of those passages in terms of false consciousness.116 The authors discussed above agree on the underlying point of Marx’s analysis of religion: forms of thought should be studied in relation to the social context from which they arise. The problem is that there is nothing in those passages suggesting a theory of ideology. Even if Marx was criticising religion for being false, inverted, and for concealing social contradictions, should we equate this with a conception of ideology? If we base our definition of ideology on Marx’s criticisms, does this mean that everything Marx attacks in his writings becomes ideology? Commentators seek to equate Marx’s criticisms with his conception of ideology mainly by using external concepts such as contradiction, inversion, and false consciousness. So, if Marx criticises something, this means Marx thinks this thing is false, and since Marx sees ideology as false consciousness, his comments imply his theory of ideology (Rosen). If Marx criticises a way of thinking for being inverted and/or for having to do with contradictions, this means he is implying his theory of ideology because his theory of ideology has to do with inversion (Ricoeur) and the concealment of contradictions (Larrain). In other words, commentators already know what they want to prove. They already have their own understanding of Marx’s theory of ideology, so they try to prove that this interpretation was already implicit in Marx’s criticisms of other views. I believe that Marx’s early writings present an embryonic conception of historical materialism. The passage on religion is not interesting because it tells us something about certain types of ideas which we should understand as ideology. It is interesting because it analyses religions by looking at their relation to the social surroundings from which they arise. More generally, Marx is showing us how ideas individuals form about the world are always (to an extent) determined by their social circumstances.117 Thus, Marx’s criticisms of Hegel and religion present us with some basic assumptions, that will be later elaborated into Marx’s historical materialism and its implicit theory of the formation of ideas. Hegel’s method inverts the relationship between social reality and metaphysics, so Marx explains how to understand this reality in materialist terms instead. Religious forms justify human suffering, so we must understand those conceptions by looking at the social circumstances causing this suffering. In both cases Marx is not offering a theory of ideology but simply criticising metaphysical conceptions while showing us how they derive from social contexts, and as such, should be understood as their expression. One of the reasons behind the controversial nature of Marxist literature on 116 Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 27. 117 This could indeed be viewed as an early elaboration of proposition five (p. 64) which we will discuss again on pp. 102–103.

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ideology is that each author singles out different passages of Marx’s works and claims that those passages contain his theory of ideology. In my view, what they find are rather the scattered elements of Marx’s historical materialism. This is what I will try to prove in the next section. The German ideology: Marx’s theories of ideology? So far, we have only scratched the surface of the controversy involving Marx’s use of the term ideology. After all, our commentators seem to agree on various things. Apart from McCarney, all believe that Marx uses the term in a negative sense. They also agree that there is at least one theory of ideology that is implicit in Marx’s works, and that it can be found through a reading of Marx’s criticisms. The passages selected by the commentators are also remarkably similar. There are good reasons for this homogeneity within the chaos of Marxist literature on ideology. In fact, they are either selected due to their controversial language, or because they present (often through criticism of other theories) Marx’s historical materialism. This will be illustrated through a reading of some of these passages, in a work that is central to this controversy, The German Ideology. This is not simply because this is the only work where the term ideology appears countless times (which, given the title, should not surprise us), but also because in this book Marx explicitly explains his own method. Indeed, the text is often conceived as either the first properly Marxist work, which finally breaks free from the influence of Feuerbach and Hegel, or at the very least, as a work of transition towards the full development of historical materialism: In The German Ideology we have a Marxist and no longer a pre-Marxist text (…). Even for those like Althusser who tend to discard the writings of the early Marx, this is a text of transition. We may say, then, that The German Ideology is at least a text of transition if not the basis for all Marx’s properly Marxist writings.118 Therefore, this text is tremendously important for anyone seeking to understand Marx’s theory of ideology, or more generally, historical materialism. Our journey into The German Ideology begins with one of Marx’s most controversial metaphors: the camera obscura. However, before we turn to the salient passage, we must bear in mind that The German Ideology is (for most part) a critical work against Hegelian thinkers. Thus, some of the following language and claims must be understood within that context: If in all ideology men and their relations appear upside-down as in a camera obscura, this phenomenon arises just as much from their historical life-process as the inversion of objects on the retina does from their 118 Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 68.

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physical life-process. The phantoms formed in the brains of men are also, necessarily, sublimates of their material life-process, which is empirically verifiable and bound to material premises. Morality, religion, metaphysics, and all the rest of ideology as well as the forms of consciousness corresponding to these, thus no longer retain the semblance of independence. They have no history, no development; but men, developing their material production and their material intercourse, alter, along with this their actual world, also their thinking and the products of their thinking. It is not consciousness that determines life, but life that determines consciousness.119 Rosen deduces from this passage that Marx is presenting one of his theories of ideology. This is what he calls the reflection model: ‘ideology relates to material life as images do to reality in a camera obscura or on the retina of the human eye: each individual item in reality is reproduced accurately, but in reverse’.120 According to Rosen, the model gives ‘a clear sense’ to the claim that ideology is false consciousness.121 However, it has various weaknesses and ambiguities.122 Eagleton also sees this passage as implying the elaboration of a ‘materialist theory of ideology’, which is however controversial because it ‘claims at once that certain forms of consciousness are false and that this falsity is somehow structural and necessary to a specific social order’.123 Eagleton also argues that its language ‘smacks strongly of mechanical materialism’.124A similar point is made by Williams.125 Although Larrain recognises that the language is problematic, he downplays the importance of the specific terminology and highlights the context of the passage.126 Ricoeur also discusses the concept but he is sceptical in regards to its utility. Indeed, he blames the camera obscura passage for leading Marxist scholars to a ‘mechanistic approach to the problem of ideology in what is really only a metaphor’.127 It could be argued that here we find two definitions, or at least two characteristics, of ideology. Marx repeatedly claims that ideology is inverted/ upside-down. He then seems to associate religion, morality and metaphysics, suggesting that here ideology refers to ‘abstract’ ideas, something strengthened by terms such as ‘phantoms’ and ‘reflexes’. Thus, this passage could entail either one definition of ideology as being both inverted and abstract, or 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127

Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 36–37. Rosen, M. (1996) p. 350. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 350–352. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 72. Ibid., p. 73. Williams, R. (1977) p. 59. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 18. Ricoeur, P. (1986) p. 78.

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two definitions of ideology (as inverted and abstract). However, this reading would ignore the passage’s context. We must remember that Marx is criticising the Hegelian tradition for how it inverted the explanatory role of metaphysics and reality (that is what we discussed earlier, p. 86). This seems to me the most obvious way of interpreting the inversion discussed, while the reference to metaphysics and religion might relate to Marx’s critical attitude towards Hegelian conceptions of religion. To cite one example, Marx argues that Bruno Bauer ‘still seriously believes that religion has its own “essence”’.128 So, I suggest that Marx is simply using the term to criticise conceptions he deems to be inverted and detached from reality. In other words, it is simply used as a generic criticism against speculative philosophy that is detached from empirical investigation. This means that the concept of inversion should not be understood as an embryonic notion of ideology. Of course, nothing prevents scholars from developing a conception of ideology characterised by inversion. However, in my opinion, this would produce a definition which is too narrow to be useful when investigating social reality. Since Marx is here attacking a tradition characterised by its idealism and reliance on metaphysics, the deterministic language employed should not surprise us. Hegelians explain reality from metaphysics, while historical materialism explains metaphysics from the standpoint of reality, or as Marx puts it, ‘life’. This is the same argument he made in his critique of religion and Hegel’s philosophy. However, we can see development in the language used. Here Marx is not solely talking of reality or social contexts, like in his previous writings, but of material premises, material production and material intercourse. The terminology demarcates the beginning of a more radical materialist view. The point is not solely to stress that ideas are determined by reality, but to make the stronger contention that one aspect of this reality has a dominant role in determining its fabric: material production (the production of tangible objects, things). The necessity and consequences of material production Marx’s materialism is explained in The German Ideology through scattered remarks. Nevertheless, its basic premises can be worked out. The first premise is simply that humans must fulfil their basic needs if they are to live and make history: ‘life involves before everything else eating and drinking, housing, clothing and various other things’.129 The second premise is that, differently from other animals, they satisfy these necessities by altering the natural world through production. Third, this productive activity is ‘always combined with a certain mode of co-operation’.130 This cooperation should be understood as a collective force, that is constituted by the sum of individuals involved in the 128 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) pp. 42–43. 129 Ibid., pp. 41–42. 130 Ibid., p. 43.

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process. Because of this, this force transcends the individual. Marx establishes that material production is a necessity for human beings and that cooperation is necessary for production. This process leads to two consequences. First, production (whose direct purpose is to satisfy humans’ needs) alters the natural world. Production of the means of subsistence thus coincides with the production of new surroundings (e.g., trees are cut and huts are constructed instead), the production of those new surroundings in turn shape human’s behaviour and their relationship to nature.131 The second consequence is that the needs themselves evolve along with the material circumstances which humans create to satisfy them: ‘the satisfaction of the first need (the action of satisfying, the instrument of satisfaction which has been acquired) leads to new needs’.132The satisfaction of a need through the production of an object will create a need for this object and the skills necessary for its creation and use. Needs are this way multiplied by the creation of new tools. Thus, as material production develops, humans need evolve along with it. In other words, needs are created, satisfied, and multiplied through developments in material production. The advent of new technologies leads to our dependence on them for the satisfaction of other needs (as well as a need for the technology itself). Think of our absolute reliance on electricity. Finally, although the point is not explicitly made by Marx in The German Ideology (due to his focus on exploitative modes of production), this also implies that material production by itself has the potential to multiply human capacities. To create an object, we must first develop the skills to transform nature (the raw material) into it. This productive skill might later be adapted to produce similar objects. This means that humans have the capacity to adapt their skills to more tasks, meaning that the capacities acquired for the creation of the first object, might spill over and be transformed into the productive capacity to create a second, similar object. If we were to make a spear out of a rock, a piece of wood, and a string, we could then apply our skills to the production of similarly rudimentary arrows. Finally, if the objects created are tools, capacities can also be acquired through their use (that is, according to Marx, economically speaking, our consumption of the tool): e.g., one acquires the capacity of shooting arrows by using a bow repeatedly over time. This can all be summarised as follows: 1 2

Material production is necessary because individuals satisfy their needs through it. Material production needs cooperation, so cooperation is a necessity of production. Material production has the following consequences:

131 Ibid., pp. 39–40. 132 Ibid., p. 42.

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Alters nature and shapes the environment individuals live in, which in turn shapes the individual. Multiplies the needs and capacities individuals have.



Historic modes of production So far, we have only considered production in its most general terms. We said humans alter nature through the production of things. They are social, and so they must cooperate when they produce, and by cooperating they become a force. These assumptions are true for every period of human activity including its pre-history. However, this only scratches the surface of Marx’s method. After all, he is famous for claiming that: ‘The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles’.133 In The German Ideology, Marx explains that the conditions under which cooperation is carried out depend on historic relationships of power and class. To understand these relations, we must now explain three (classic) Marxist concepts: productive forces, relations of production, and mode of production. For the sake of simplicity and brevity, we will only deal with the concepts by focusing exclusively on historic societies whose production is characterised by class relations. Let us start with the productive forces, whose composition can be explained by following Cohen’s schema.134 We can divide the productive forces into the means of production (‘things’ necessary for production) and labour power. The means of production include instruments of production (machines, tools, etc.), raw materials, and spaces. Labour power represents the physical input necessary for production. Note that for Marx, labour power (the potentiality inherent in the individual) is distinguished from labour (the actualisation of this potentiality), and this actual/performed labour is equated with production. The means of production represent the materials necessary for the process. The skills necessary for production are also involved even though they cannot be considered either as labour power or means of production. These skills are caught in the middle between the two categories. They can only be acquired by individuals through labour employed in using the means of production. Thus, knowledge and skills necessary for the productive process might be conceived as something arising from the interaction between labour and the means of production. It is also important to point out that labour power and means of production only become a productive force when the latter are employed by individuals in cooperation for the purpose of material production. As Marx highlights in his ‘Economic Manuscript of 1861–63’:

133 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976a) p. 482. 134 Cohen, G. A. (2000) p. 55.

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We are considering cooperation as a natural force of social labour, in so far as the labour of the individual attains a productivity by means of cooperation which it would not have attained as the labour of the isolated individual.135 The ‘prerequisites’ for cooperation are ‘the existence of an agglomeration, a heaping up of many workers in the same area (in one place), all working at the same time’136 and the ‘concentration of the means of labour’137 within the same space. These pre-conditions are connected through the concept of productive forces (production presupposes the existence of productive forces whose pre-conditions are the cooperation of individuals and the concentration of the means of labour within a single space). By distinguishing labour power and means of production as two essential aspects of the productive process, we can better understand the relationship between the productive forces and the relations of production. In The German Ideology, Marx employs the concept of relations of production, often in conjunction with the term ‘intercourse’.138 Other times, ‘form of intercourse’ is seemingly used instead of relations of production.139 However, he does not define the concept so one must work out its meaning from the context. Since we are dealing with class societies, we can define the relations of production as social relations determining the power/control asserted by a group over the productive forces. These relations entail a division of society along two classes: one (subordinate class) that performs the work (the labour within the productive forces) and another one (the dominant class) that while not working, controls the productive process carried out by these productive forces: ‘The conditions under which definite productive forces can be applied are the conditions of the rule of a definite class of society’.140 In fact, what distinguishes class societies from pre-historic communities, is that under class systems, the subordinate classes experience their collective productive force as something alien to them, whose purpose they might not grasp: The social power, i.e., the multiplied productive force, which arises through the co-operation of different individuals as it is caused by the division of labour, appears to these individuals, since their co-operation is not voluntary but has come about naturally, not as their own united power, but as an alien force existing outside them, of the origin and goal of which they are ignorant, which they thus are no longer able to control.141 135 136 137 138

Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1988) pp. 257–258. Ibid., p. 256. Ibid., p. 259. See for example Marx, K, and Engels, F. (1976b) pp. 81, 176, 203, 209, 214, 384, 387, 396. 139 See for example Ibid., pp. 45, 50, 53, 74, 81–85. 140 Ibid., p. 52. 141 Ibid., p. 48.

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Under class societies, the logics of production do not arise from the voluntary association of individuals involved in the process, they are rather dictated by one portion of society that, although not active in production, asserts control over it. So how is this control of a (dominant) class over another (subordinated class), and over production asserted? The answer is property: The various stages of development in the division of labour are just so many different forms of property, i.e., the existing stage in the division of labour determines also the relations of individuals to one another with reference to the material, instrument and product of labour.142 Relations of property are essential for Marx’s method because they determine who controls the raw materials, tools necessary for production, and distribution of its products. For example, in early societies based on slavery, the dominant class (the masters) would own both the worker (the slave) and the means of production (tools and raw materials). What the productive forces created would be dictated by the whims of the masters. The slaves could only appropriate the portion of labour that was necessary for their own sustainment. This unequal distribution of the products of labour is for Marx a feature characterising all history. He understood this process as the appropriation of a surplus: One class is (more or less) forced to produce more than it is necessary for its own subsistence so that a dominant class can appropriate this extra product. For Marx, surplus appropriation is exploitation. What is appropriated varies, and while under previous modes of production it was the objects produced by the slave or the fruits of the land cultivated by the serf, under capitalism surplus accumulation takes its purest form of surplus value accumulation.143 We must note that this arrangement of society implies that The free time of the non-working parts of society is based on the surplus labour of the working part. The free development of the former is because the workers have to employ the whole of their time, hence the room for their own development, purely in the production of particular use values; the development of the human capacities on one side is based on the restriction of development on the other side.144 We could at this point define the relations of production as the relations of property through which a subordinate class creates a surplus that is appropriated by a dominant class that does not participate in the productive process. The productive forces/relations of production dichotomy is useful because we can then separate: 142 Ibid., p. 32. 143 We will come back to the logics of surplus accumulation under capitalism in Chapter 3 pp. 134–138. 144 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1988) p. 191.

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Things necessary for production (labour, cooperation, means of production). Relations of production as forms of ownership determining:    

The aim of production. Ownership of its means. Distribution of its products. Distribution of labour/leisure time among the individuals involved.

Together, the relations of production and the productive forces form what Marx calls the mode of production. Modes of production are for the individuals involved in the process, something transmitted from the past, as well as something those individuals will, to an extent, modify: History is nothing but the succession of the separate generations, each of which uses the materials, the capital funds, the productive forces handed down to it by all preceding generations, and thus, on the one hand, continues the traditional activity in completely changed circumstances and, on the other, modifies the old circumstances with a completely changed activity.145 Marx highlights that every result is at the same time a precondition for further action. Individuals must conform to the productive forces/relations of production handed from the past. However, by taking part in this process they will develop this production further, and the results will become pre-conditions for future generations. Another important point made by Marx (that will later be developed in the famous ‘1859 Preface’) is that ‘all collisions in history have their origin, according to our view, in the contradiction between the productive forces and the form of intercourse’.146 The contradiction between the productive forces and the relations of production takes different forms throughout history. As we have discussed in the previous section (p. 88) two processes contradict one another when the development of one is hindered by the development of the other. The inherent contradiction of the forces and the relations under class societies arises from the basic conflict of material interests between the two classes. The dominant class has an interest in forcing the subordinate to work, while the subordinate’s own material interests can be satisfied only to the extent allowed by dominant classes. The differences in time spent in production, distribution of its products and skills acquired, lead to unequal development between the two classes (e.g., one class spends all day working, the other can spend it painting). Hence, we can understand that the contradiction between the relations of production and the productive forces is expressed through the unequal development between subordinate and dominant classes. 145 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 50. 146 Ibid., p. 74.

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Subordinate classes must do all the material work necessary for the subsistence of the dominant class that will have the time to develop its capacities in accordance to its desires. We will further explore this contradiction in the next chapter (pp. 139–140), where we will focus on its specific form within capitalism. Material practice determines ideas Now that we discussed the central concepts of Marx’s method, we can turn to his analysis of ‘consciousness’ (ideas/thoughts we form about reality). The rise of consciousness is for Marx interconnected with the use of language. Language is necessary for individuals to communicate with one another and is therefore key to any social activity. Engagement with production also entails a kind of ‘consciousness’ that is internal to the actions necessary to carry out the productive process (one must understand how the process works to be part of it). Thus, language and consciousness are necessary for production (and social interaction in general), as well as representing ‘two sides of the same coin’: language is as old as consciousness, language is practical consciousness that exists also for other men, and for that reason alone it really exists for me personally as well; language, like consciousness, only arises from the need, the necessity, of intercourse with other men.147 In this passage Marx refers to a consciousness (a set of ideas) that is at the same time ‘practical’. The term practice is employed by Marx throughout The German Ideology, often referring to different phenomena. For example, he talks of ‘practical activity’,148 ‘practical struggle’,149 or ‘practical premises’,150 even though he never defines the term. Nevertheless, an explanation of what practice entails is presented in the ‘Theses on Feuerbach’ (a few notes that Marx wrote while working on The German Ideology): The chief defect of all hitherto existing materialism (that of Feuerbach included) is that the thing, reality, sensuousness, is conceived only in the form of the object or of contemplation, but not as sensuous human activity, practice, not subjectively. Hence, in contradistinction to materialism, the active side was developed abstractly by idealism – which, of course, does not know real, sensuous activity as such. Feuerbach wants sensuous objects, really distinct from the thought objects, but he does not conceive

147 148 149 150

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. 44. p. 37. p. 47. pp. 48, 49.

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human activity itself as objective activity. Hence, (…) he regards the theoretical attitude as the only genuinely human attitude.151 Marx is attacking the materialism of his time for its inability to consider the ‘active side’ of subjective activity without collapsing into idealism. Marx criticises Feuerbach because he can only understand reality either as an ‘external material object’ which the subject passively acquires through his senses, or as an ‘object of contemplation’ within the individual’s mind. Marx argues that for Feuerbach the only truly ‘human’ activity is theoretical, because for Feuerbach (who shares this assumption with Hegel) historical development is driven by our capacity for rational thinking. Thus, although Feuerbach seemingly introduces ‘materialist premises’ by arguing that religion is a product of an alienated human self-consciousness, he is still trapped within a Hegelian understanding of history and human activity in terms of ideas. Instead, by introducing the concept of ‘practice’, Marx argues that the content of human thought should be understood in the light of how humans practically interact with nature and one another. In other words, it is not the evolution of thought that determines individuals’ consciousness at a given time of history, but rather their practical activity (which consequentially plays the role of linking the material ‘sensuous world’ with the realm of thought). By distinguishing ‘sensuous objects’ and ‘thought’ (purely in its active/contemplative form) Feuerbach pays no attention to the role of practice in connecting the two in our daily lives. Practice gives human history its continuity, because by altering the world around us, we necessarily also alter the way in which we live, our relation to one another and ultimately our thoughts. We can distinguish three meanings of practice. First, productive/material practice refers to practical activity aimed at the production of physical/tangible things. Second, social practice refers to practical activity that is widespread/common within a given social stratum. Thus, all material practice must necessarily be social practice (cooperation being necessary for production), while not all social practice is material/productive practice. The beauty of using the term practice in describing social phenomena is twofold. On the one hand practice suggests fixity and dependence on established rules. In this sense practice is almost a synonym of ‘custom’. On the other hand, practice means activity performed repeatedly over time, which brings out its fluid and developing nature as well as the relationship between the practices performed and the skills (physical or mental) acquired by individuals through the process. Thus, material and social practice are at the same time structures that dictate behaviour in as much as they are constantly developing forms of action through which our physical and mental capacities develop. The final meaning of practice refers to the actualisation of certain ideas/set of ideas/theory: If I believe my room should be cleaned, by cleaning it my ideas are turned into practice.

151 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976c) p. 3.

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When Marx uses the term in the passage quoted earlier, he is mostly referring to material practice. Nevertheless, I believe that his remarks can also be applied to social practices in general. In my opinion, material and social practice must be understood as an ‘objective activity’ not in the sense of it being ‘universal’ or ‘never changing’ but because the different social practices individuals engage with acquire for them an objective significance. In other words, individuals are always entangled in social and economic practices which appear as ‘ready-made conditions’ they must accept and follow to be part of society. Furthermore, since (under class societies) cooperation is not something which individuals voluntarily engage in but rather something they are led to accept and submit to if they are to survive: ‘man’s own deed becomes an alien power opposed to him, which enslaves him instead of being controlled by him’.152 As Larrain puts it ‘The paradox of human activity is that it crystallises into objective institutions and social relations which, despite being produced by men and women themselves, escape their control’.153 We must also remember that, as discussed earlier (p. 99), those preconditions are at the same time the result of previous practices. So social practices represent both preconditions for individual action (one must act within the boundaries they dictate), and the results of individuals’ aggregate actions. As we argued earlier, both language and consciousness arise from the necessity for cooperation in productive activity. This activity is then viewed by the engaged individual as a set of practices that are both objective and necessary for social reproduction. Because this consciousness is at first (in primitive societies) merely concerned with the ‘immediate sensuous environment’ in which individuals produce their means of subsistence and the ‘limited connection with other persons and things’154 that is necessary for the productive process. Once human beings start living in communities they also become conscious of ‘nature’, which at this point is viewed as a ‘completely alien, allpowerful and unassailable force’155 due to the fact that it has hardly been modified (and thus ‘tamed’) through their productive activity. In other words, production evolves along with the practices making it possible. More ‘complex practices’ entail more complex relations between people and with nature. This means that consciousness and language develop along with production, as new practices also presuppose the language through which such practices are both described and performed, and with it, an awareness of how they work. I believe this is the meaning of Marx’s assertion that historical materialism ‘does not explain practice from the idea but explains the formation of ideas from material practice’156 (proposition five). To understand the ideas individuals form about their surroundings, we must look at how they shape 152 153 154 155 156

Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 47. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 20. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 54. Ibid. Ibid.

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their environment and their relationship to one another through material practice. Therefore, I believe that proposition five points at material practices and corresponding forms of thought that become objective and necessary for everyone involved in the productive process. Let us now move towards our discussion of proposition six (the ideas of individuals are determined by their position within the division of labour). The division of labour The division of labour (who does what) between various individuals also develops in accordance with the material needs of a society. We can think of the division of labour as something involved in the production of a given object (that is the division of labour internal to production. We might call this the technical division of labour). But we can also think of this division in a broader sense, where different groups (within geographical area x) produce different objects (this is the social division of labour). Marx contends that this division ‘was originally nothing but the division of labour in the sexual act’ and successively it might depend on given individuals’ ‘natural predispositions (e.g., physical strength)’ or ‘needs, accidents, etc’.157However, the division of labour establishes itself fully only ‘when a division of material and mental labour appears’.158 Indeed, the material/ mental labour division implies that some individuals can engage in speculative thought, while others produce the means for their subsistence. The ‘mental producers’ consequentially view reality in a detached and contemplative manner. It is at this point that the formation of ‘pure theory’ occurs, in the forms of ‘theology, philosophy, ethics, etc’.159 The division between material and mental production also leads to a ‘contradiction’ (uneven development) within society, as certain individuals, due to their supposed ‘mental capacities’, can live off the labour of others: ‘the division of labour implies the possibility, nay the fact that intellectual and material activity – enjoyment and labour, production and consumption – devolve on different individuals’.160 Marx argues that the first group in this privileged position were the ‘thinkers’, which in primitive societies were religious/mystical figures: ‘the first form of ideologists, priests, is coincident’161 with the division between mental and material labour. Due to their detachment from material production, thinkers conceive reality differently from ‘material workers’ (whose understanding of reality is more ‘practically oriented’). As we have seen earlier, Marx criticises ideology for being inverted, and he then associates this inversion (which we explained on pp. 93–94) with what he calls 157 158 159 160 161

Ibid. Ibid., p. 45. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

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‘ideologists’. Although the meaning of the term is ambiguous, for the sake of simplicity we can think of ideologists as an (unspecified) class of intellectuals. Marx tells us that ideologists’ ‘illusions’ can be explained ‘from their practical position in life, their job, and the division of labour’.162 This statement represents proposition six. Although Marx is here focusing on the consequences of the division of labour for intellectuals, we can take this statement to apply to every individual within the division of labour. This means that the ideas individuals make about the world depend on their position. This is because their position determines the social/material practices they daily engage with, which consequentially determines the perspective from which they engage with social reality, which in turn determines the ideas/ thoughts necessary for this engagement. We will come back to proposition six on p. 106. Let us now discuss other consequences of the division of labour. According to Marx: The division of labour also implies the contradiction between the interest of the separate individual or the individual family and the common interest of all individuals who have intercourse with one another. And indeed, this common interest does not exist merely in the imagination, as the “general interest”, but first of all in reality, as the mutual interdependence of the individuals among whom the labour is divided.163 Individuals have an interest in cooperation insofar as they could not survive without it. However, individuals participate in the process only to further their (or/and their family’s) material interests. Thus, a tension is created between society’s common interest (arising from individuals’ needs for cooperation) and the specific interests of the various agents. The contradiction, which springs from this conflict of interest, can again be understood in terms of uneven development (the process necessary to satisfy the common interests hinders individuals’ freedom to pursue their own specific interests). Although this common interest has a real basis in the human necessity for cooperation,164 Marx claims that ‘out of this very contradiction between the particular and the common interests, the common interest assumes an independent form as the state, which is divorced from the real individual and collective interests, and at the same time as an illusory community, always based, however, on the real ties existing’.165 Here we find again Marx’s criticism of the state as an ‘illusory community’ that although supposedly representing the common interests of people, has its real basis in the material interests of specific classes. In fact, he even argues that ‘all struggles within the state’ are ‘merely the illusory forms’ in which ‘the real struggles of the different classes 162 163 164 165

Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 46. Ibid. Ibid.

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166

are fought out among one another’. In other words, political struggles within the state have their real basis in the underlying class struggles. Unfortunately, this point is not further elaborated. Finally, another consequence of the division of labour is the uneven development/contradiction between towns and country.167 Ruling classes and ruling ideas According to Marx: The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas: i.e., the class which is the ruling material force of society is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, consequently also controls the means of mental production, so that the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are on the whole subject to it.168 As discussed in the introduction, this statement corresponds to proposition seven. Since dominant classes own the means of material production, they also own the means for mental production. As subordinate classes have no access to the instruments for mental production, their ideas are ‘subjected’ to conceptions elaborated and spread by the ruling classes. Marx then argues that the ideas of the ruling class correspond to the ‘dominant material relations’.169 This suggests that those ideas tend to justify/idealise the relations of production that confer power on the ruling class. Because of this, the passage could also be conceived as entailing proposition eight: ruling ideas reflect the material interests of the ruling classes. Unfortunately, these two propositions (are never explained by Marx, so we will address them again through Gramsci (pp. 184–187). Finally, Marx claims that the ruling class must try ‘to present its interest as the common interest of all the members of society: (…) it has to give its ideas the form of universality, and present them as the only rational, universally valid ones’.170 In other words, dominant classes must always dress their interests to make them look as universal, rational, and common to the rest of society. Back to the controversy Let us now go back to the controversy surrounding ideology and the different theories (supposedly) found by commentators within The German Ideology. Let us start by considering Eagleton’s views. He distinguishes 166 167 168 169 170

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid.,

pp. 46–47. pp. 32–33, 64. p. 59. p. 60.

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Historical materialism and ideology two rather different cases which The German Ideology threatens to conflate. On the one hand, there is a general materialist thesis that ideas and material activity are inseparably bound up together (…). On the other hand, there is the historical materialist argument that certain historically specific forms of consciousness become separated out from productive activity, and can best be explained in terms of their functional role in sustaining it.171

Eagleton’s comments are only partly right. It is true that in the text we can find two materialist theses. The first (proposition five) states that ideas should be understood in relation to material practice. However, that is compatible with the claim that certain ideas become separated from productive activity. As we have seen, this is an implication of proposition six. The division of labour between material and mental production creates a class that can preoccupy itself with the ‘systematisation’ of thought.172 This means that the thinkers’ ‘aloof and detached’ ideas, are explained from their specific practical activity (thinking/writing) within the division of labour. While Eagleton earlier saw those claims as parts of a general materialist thesis, he later treats them as incompatible definitions of ideology: ‘Does ideology essentially consist in seeing ideas as socially determining or in regarding them as autonomous?’173 My answer is neither. Marx is not providing a theory of ideology but rather stating his method: Ideas must be explained from material practice (proposition five) + ideas of individuals must be explained from their position within the division of labour (proposition six) = the ideas formed by certain intellectuals are detached from reality due to the material development of their society and their position within the division of labour. Of course, the claim that the ideas produced by all intellectuals are inverted/detached from reality is controversial. However, Marx is attacking the Hegelian tradition, rather than describing contemplative thought in general. As he states: ‘German philosophy is a consequence of German petty-bourgeois conditions’.174 Indeed, far from demonstrating detachment from reality, French and English intellectuals ‘made the first attempts to give the writing of history a materialistic basis’.175 Eagleton conflates Marx’s materialist method with his supposed theory of ideology. The passage quoted also shows his inconsistency in seeing certain claims sometimes as part of Marx’s method, and at other times as his theory of ideology. This conflation occurs again when he treats Marx’s claims 171 172 173 174 175

Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 74. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) pp. 446–447. Eagleton T. (1991) p. 78. Ibid., p. 447. Ibid., p. 42.

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concerning ruling classes/ruling ideas as entailing a ‘political model of ideology’ which ‘does not entirely square with the more epistemological conception of it as thought oblivious to its social origin’.176 Marx’s argument about ruling ideas is to be understood as a direct consequence of the productive forces/relations of production dichotomy under class societies (see again pp. 96–100). It is therefore an integral part of his materialist method not a separate theory of ideology. Let us now turn to Rosen. As we have seen (p. 93), Rosen believes that a reflection model of ideology is implied by the camera obscura metaphor. He also argues that another theory can be found within The German Ideology, namely the ‘interest model’: From this point of view, the most significant aspect of ideas is not their relationship to a mind-independent reality but that they are the products of practical activity, and that this practical activity is itself guided by interests.177 Rosen is referring to proposition five, which he treats as implying a theory of ideology where ideas are understood as determined by practical activity and the interests underlying it. He then sees proposition seven (ruling classes/ ruling ideas) as an explanation of why subordinate groups hold ideas that go against their interests. However, for Rosen this theory is problematic for different reasons. For example, he wonders ‘why should one suppose that the ruling class is capable of promoting its interests effectively, forming its ideas in response to those interests, whereas the dominated classes simply accept whatever is served up to them?’178 Rosen is highlighting one of the most controversial statements within the Marxist tradition: the existence of a dominant ideology that is imposed on subordinate classes who then view the world from the perspective of their rulers. One might argue that it is wrong to assume that subordinate groups tend to accept ideas propagated by their rulers. History is filled with popular rebellions. This criticism has been brought forward in recent years, most notably by Nicholas Abercrombie, Bryan S. Turner, and Stephen Hill in The Dominant Ideology Thesis. These authors argue ‘against the claim that there is ideological incorporation of subordinate classes by a dominant ideology’.179 Although I share their doubts concerning the power of dominant ideas over subordinate groups, I think a less ‘deterministic’ understanding of dominant ideologies can be found in Gramsci.180 Therefore, we will come back to the relationship between

176 177 178 179 180

Eagleton T. (1991) p. 79. Rosen, M. (1996) p. 353. Ibid., pp. 354–355. Abercrombie, N., Turner, B. S., Hill, S. (2015) p. 157. Even Abercrombie, Turner and Hill seem to concede this when they point out that ‘Gramsci does not argue that subordinate classes uniformly have a consciousness imposed on them by dominant classes’. Ibid., p. 14.

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dominant and subordinated classes in our discussion of Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks (Chapter 4, pp. 184–187). Let us now go back to the secondary literature. Larrain cannot be criticised for conflating historical materialism and Marx’s theory of ideology, as he explicitly sets boundaries between the two. He is also the only author who acknowledges the existence of a theory of formation of ideas: The construction of the concept of ideology was part of a wider elaboration about the formation of ideas. This means that ideology is a particular case, a specific mode of being of certain ideas. (…) In order to clarify this point it is necessary to analyse Marx’s understanding of the origin and function of ideas. This can be summarised in three principles which Marx expresses as follows: (i) historical materialism ‘explains the formation of ideas from material practice’ (ii) ‘The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas’, (iii) ‘Consciousness must be explained … from the contradictions of material life.181 Larrain reconstructs Marx’s conception of ideology by looking at these ‘three principles’. He understands the first principle as entailing that ‘it is by practically producing and transforming reality that human beings come to know it’.182 This means that ‘the determination of consciousness by practice is therefore a universal principle which applies to any ideas, whatever their adequacy or degree of abstraction’.183 Since all ideas are determined by practice, how can we explain the formation of ideology? As we have seen earlier, Larrain conceives ideology as implying a distorted understanding of the world concealing social contradictions. The origin of this distortion is seen in the ‘limited material mode of activity’ to which each agent within the productive process is relegated. This interpretation is supported by the following passage (which Larrain also quotes): If the conscious expression of the real relations of these individuals is illusory, if in their imagination they turn reality upside-down, then this in its turn is the result of their limited material mode of activity and their limited social relations arising from it.184 Larrain understands ‘limited material mode of activity’ as ‘a practice which reproduces the ‘objective power’ in opposition to the labourer, a practice which reproduces the contradictory nature of social relations’.185 This limited practical activity, Larrain goes on to argue, also entails ‘the dispossession of 181 182 183 184 185

Larrain, J. (1983) p. 21. Ibid. Ibid., p. 22. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 36. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 23.

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the labourer from both the means of subsistence and the products of his or her labour, eliminating the worker’s creative self-expression’.186 Furthermore, ‘the results of this limited practice’ not only affect the workers, but also the ruling class, which however feels ‘at ease and strengthened in this selfestrangement’ because ‘it recognises estrangement as its own power and has in it the semblance of a human existence’.187 ‘The second principle’ (ruling classes/ruling ideas) is understood by Larrain in a twofold manner. First, we have the ‘genetic’ relation between the ruling classes and the ‘dominant ideas’, since those who control the means of material production also control the means of ‘mental production’. This implies that these ‘ruling ideas’ must also serve the interests of the class which ‘produces’ them. Larrain argues that these two aspects ‘cannot adequately be distinguished in the case of the ruling class’.188 However, things are different once we look at the ‘subordinated classes’ and how this relation affects them. Since the subordinated classes are ‘busy’ working to sustain themselves, while lacking the means of producing and propagating their own ‘ideas’, they tend to adopt conceptions ‘produced’ by their rulers.189 Subordinated classes might also reproduce the ruler’s ideas themselves. Hence, Larrain argues, ‘the relationship between ideas and the interests of the ruling class may or may not entail a genetic relationship between those ideas and the ruling classes’.190 This means that certain ideas might serve the interest of the ruling classes even though they were in fact ‘produced’ by the ‘ruled’. From this Larrain concludes that ‘the character of ideology is given by its relation to the interests of the ruling class and not by a genetic relation to the class from which it originates’.191 This implies that ‘there cannot be an ideology which serves the interests of the dominated classes, whereas there are ideas which may serve those interests’.192 Larrain’s interpretation is supposedly justified by the fact that although Marx talks of ‘revolutionary ideas’, he nevertheless never describes them as ‘ideological’. For an idea to count as ‘ideological’ it must serve the interests of the ruling classes, even though this is a ‘necessary’ rather than ‘sufficient’ condition.193 Because of this, Larrain attempts to further articulate the definition of ideology by looking at the way in which Marx describes the relationship between ideas and social contradictions (the ‘third principle’). The main contradiction the division produces is that between the interests of individuals and the interest they have in cooperating. According to Larrain, Marx criticises German idealism for its inability to move beyond the realm of thought, 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193

Ibid. Ibid., p. 24. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 24. Ibid. Ibid., p. 25. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 26.

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which consequentially led to ignoring the material contradictions from which conflicting ideas arise.194 From this he infers that ‘if one links ideas to contradictions one may find two basic results: either ideas provide an adequate representation of material contradictions or they distort them’.195 Thus, ideology is characterised by its ‘inadequate’ or ‘distorted’ account of the contradictions. By putting ‘all elements’ of Marx’s treatment of ideology together, Larrain produces his first definition of ideology: ‘ideology refers to a limited material practice which generates ideas that misrepresent social contradictions in the interest of the ruling class’.196 There are some issues with how Larrain conceptualises the connection between the ‘three principles’ discussed. First, it is not clear what counts as an ‘ideological distortion’ and how it results from ‘limited material practice’. This is important considering that Larrain himself argues that ideology ‘does not include all kinds of errors and distortions’.197 Furthermore, Larrain believes that ideologies conceal contradictions. This claim seems to be at odds with Marx’s argument that reality itself already appears in an inverted manner to the agents involved in the productive process. This suggests that social contradictions are already concealed, and if anything, ideology has the function of ‘making sense’ and justifying them. Furthermore, the idea of ‘concealment’ presupposes that there is something to be concealed. For Marxists, this would be the contradictions implicit in the division of labour. However, given that individuals do not know how Marx conceptualises contradictions (unless we assume all individuals to have read The German Ideology), and they ‘experience’ such contradictions from their particular perspective, it is unclear what is being ‘concealed’ from them. Thus, although Larrain’s account has the merit of setting the boundaries between Marx’s method and his theory of ideology, his conception of ideology is ambiguous. Let us now discuss Ricoeur’s reading of The German Ideology. Although, the focus of the work is on the concept of ideology, he puts considerable effort into explaining Marx’s method and its various interpretations. Indeed, Ricoeur covers all the topics discussed through our reading.198 Ricouer’s analysis is similar to mine, and so will not be discussed. However, our interpretations diverge considerably when it comes to ideology and its relationship to practice. To fully grasp Riceour’s analysis, we must first consider the distinction he draws between two different approaches to the text: 1

194 195 196 197 198

The first alternative presented by The German Ideology is that the old concepts are replaced by such entities as modes of production, forces of production, relations of production, and classes, the typical Marxist

Ibid. Ibid., p. 27. Ibid. Ibid., p. 30. Ricoeur, P. (1986) pp. 73–84.

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vocabulary. According to this approach, these objective entities may be defined without any allusion (…) to individual subjects (…). The second perspective opened by The German Ideology has a rather dissimilar orientation. Classes and all other collective entities-modes of production, forms of production, forces, relations, and so on-are not considered to be the ultimate basis but rather only the basis for an objective science. In this more radical approach, this perspective argues, the objective entities are supported by the real life of actual, living individuals.199

The first approach is what Ricoeur calls the ‘objective’ or ‘structuralist’ reading: ‘this interpretive path leads to Althusser and others, people for whom the individual disappears at least from the level of the fundamental concepts’.200 Ricoeur criticises this approach for leading to a reductionist methodology that does away with the notion of ‘real individuals’, instead finding the ultimate basis for analysis in their structural position. This view also involves the notion of ‘anti-humanism’, where individuals are conceived as ‘bearers of structures’, and their agency is ignored. The second approach is the one favoured by Ricoeur and also the one adopted in this work. According to this second reading, Marxist concepts such as class or relations of production do not constitute the ‘ultimate real’ to be analysed through the materialist method, but rather abstractions that help us understand the constraints and incentives faced by the ‘real individuals’ that occupy those positions. According to this (arguably) more sophisticated view ‘we must introduce the notion of motive and also the role of the individual agents who have these motives’201 even though we might acknowledge that those motives are influenced by the individual’s structural position (with its constraints and incentives). Ricoeur tries to get beyond structuralism (where individuals are simply seen as pre-determined ‘cogs’ in a machine) and simple voluntarism (where individuals are understood to be free, and their actions are interpreted as determined by their own will) to articulate a dialectical synthesis between the two: individuals have freedom to choose and act, but only within the constraints and incentives dictated by their structural position. I agree with Ricoeur as I do not think there is anything to be gained by assuming that Marx’s concepts provide us with pre-made categories constituting reality. This methodology would blur distinctions between historical periods and specific ways of operating. For example, if the position of the capitalist is what constitutes the real, how am I supposed to differentiate between the 1920s and today’s capitalist class? The structure of capitalism (if we are speaking of structure solely through concepts such as class and relations of production) has remained the same. For Ricoeur, this methodological 199 Ibid., p. 69. 200 Ibid., p. 88. 201 Ibid., p. 95.

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distinction is central in determining how Marxist scholars approach the problem of ideology. The structuralist approach would assert that ‘to unmask an ideology is to uncover and expose the structure of power behind it. Lying behind an ideology is not an individual but a structure of society’.202 This reading (as discussed with relation to Althusser) also creates an ideology/science dichotomy.203 Ricoeur argues that while this distinction is present in Marx’s later economic texts, in his early writings the dichotomy of opposites is framed in terms of ideology and praxis.204 Ricoeur’s own approach employs the latter dichotomy as a starting point to define ideology: ‘The problem of ideology is only that it is representation and not real praxis. The dividing line is not between false and true but between real and representation, between praxis and Vorstellung’.205 Ideology is a representation of something real, while praxis is understood as practical reality from which those representations arise. Unfortunately, there are ambiguities in Ricoeur’s treatment of the dichotomy. Although the two concepts are sometimes framed as opposites,206 he also argues that ‘most basic to the ideology-praxis contrast is not opposition’ but ‘inner connection’.207 This is because ‘praxis incorporates an ideological layer; this layer may become distorted, but it is a component of praxis itself ’.208 Since practical life is only possible through a common system of language/symbols, the symbolic dimension of practice is the basis of ideology (the abstract, and often distorted, representation of those symbols). So, if ideology is to be understood as a representation of practical life whose symbols are distorted, the question would be: why does this distortion occur? Ricoeur’s answer is that ‘the function of ideology (…) is to fill the credibility gap in all systems of authority’.209 Ideology is distorted due to its role of legitimising authority/power, along with the structures and practices that support them. However, as Ricoeur rejects a causal explanation connecting the material interests of ruling groups with their ideological elaborations, he instead introduces the mechanism of motivation as an explanatory framework. This is consistent with his emphasis on ‘real’ individuals. If the ultimate source of reality is individuals, we must frame the material interest/ideology connection in terms of motivation rather than mechanistic causality between structural positions and ideology. That is why Ricoeur attempts to combine Marx’s conception of ideology with Weber’s ‘motivational model’.210

202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. 89. p. 58. p. 102. p. 77. pp. 18, 118, 271. p. 10. p. 223. p. 183. p. 192.

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Ricoeur’s conception of ideology can be summarised as follows: 1 2 3

4

Ideology is a representation of practical life’s symbols. Ideology is distorted because it justifies and legitimises the authority and power of ruling groups as well as the subsequent rules they impose. The distortion is necessary to persuade individuals and thus fill the gap between the claims made by the rulers and the beliefs of subordinate groups. The distortion arises from ruling classes’ (understood as individuals) motivations (their desire for justification and consequent persuasion of subordinate groups).

Although the definition of ideology proposed in this work shares similarities with Ricoeur’s, I have some issues with his account. First, I do not share the underlying assumption that when reading Marx’s critique of other approaches, we can deduce that Marx is implicitly stating a theory of ideology. This approach constructs a systematicity and coherence in Marx’s use of the term that is not in the texts. Second, I tend to be sceptical of definitions of ideology which seek to frame it in opposition to something else. I do not think this is necessary and I see no gain in it (although as we have seen, Ricoeur’s position in relation to this seems ambiguous). Third, although one of the characteristics of ideology is that it is distorted, Ricoeur does not specify what this distortion is. In what sense do narratives legitimising authority imply a distortion? In my opinion, the language of distortion should be abandoned in favour of the notion of one-sidedness/partial truth. Ricoeur himself acknowledges that subordinate groups might have an interest in the maintenance of social order (and this is precisely what ideology highlights to persuade them). I think is more appropriate to say that ideologies legitimising the social order provide a one-sided (or partially true) narrative that includes only the positive features of this order (e.g., safety), while excluding its negative features (e.g., exploitation). The idea of partial truth is more useful as it can also explain the reasons behinds subordinate groups’ acceptance of the narrative and the order it justifies (e.g., if I gain safety from the order, its existence is justified regardless of my structural position). Although I do agree that practical life involves ideas and symbols, Ricoeur seems to argue that these symbols already imply an ideological dimension. However, the problem is that, if ideology is the abstract representation of practically necessary symbols, how can ideology also be implicit in practice? If the ideology/practice distinction has to do with the practical life/representation dichotomy, how are the symbols within practical life already ideological? How does one draw the line between the two? Finally, the link between the protection of order (or of specific social structures within this order) and the material interests this order protects is not discussed by Ricoeur. The motivation considered is the legitimisation of the order, leaving aside the economic interests that might give rise to certain representations of

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reality. This precludes us from understanding struggles between dominant ideologies that while justifying the existence of the order might express different material interests, spread conflicting representations of the social world, and support different state policies. In other words, if ideology is simply about the justification of authority, then we lose the means of differentiating between various dominant ideologies (e.g., mainstream party ideologies) struggling for state power. So far, we have tried to reconstruct Marx’s historical materialism through a reading of salient passages from The German Ideology. While doing so, we have also tried to prove that although the term ideology appears throughout the text, no theory of ideology is presented by Marx. We have argued that his characterisation of ideology as ‘upside down/inverted’ should not be understood as a general definition of ideology but rather as a criticism of a specific type of thought (Hegelianism). We then argued that in The German Ideology Marx presents different statements concerning the determination of ideas from production, and that those statements should be conceived as entailing a theory of the formation of ideas internal to historical materialism rather than a theory of ideology. Base and superstructure Marx’s metaphor of base and superstructure is presented in its most systematic form within the ‘1859 Preface’ to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy: In the social production of their existence, men inevitably enter into definite relations, which are independent of their will, namely relations of production appropriate to a given stage in the development of their material forces of production. The totality of these relations of production constitutes the economic structure of society, the real foundation, on which arises a legal and political superstructure and to which correspond definite forms of social consciousness. The mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness. At a certain stage of development, the material productive forces of society come into conflict with the existing relations of production or—this merely expresses the same thing in legal terms—with the property relations within the framework of which they have operated hitherto. From forms of development of the productive forces these relations turn into their fetters. Then begins an era of social revolution. The changes in the economic foundation lead sooner or later to the transformation of the whole immense superstructure. In studying such transformations it is always necessary to distinguish between the material transformation of the economic conditions of production, which can be determined with the

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precision of natural science, and the legal, political, religious, artistic or philosophic—in short, ideological forms in which men become conscious of this conflict and fight it out.211 Here we find the first four propositions we introduced earlier. Let us consider what commentators make of this. This passage is problematic for those arguing that Marx holds a negative/critical definition of ideology. For example, Rosen argues that ‘the base-superstructure distinction (…) fails to include (…) false consciousness’.212 Similarly, Eagleton highlights that the reference to illusory forms, significantly, has here been dropped; there is no particular suggestion that these ‘superstructural’ modes are in any sense chimerical or fantastic. (…) Ideology has now the rather less pejorative sense of the class struggle at the level of ideas, with no necessary implication that these ideas are always false.213 Likewise, Rehmann argues that ‘the assumption of a “neutral” concept of ideology contradicts the overall and consistent usage of a critical concept of ideology’.214 Larrain highlights how the structure/superstructure dichotomy, along with the ‘idea of different class ideologies in conflict’, is responsible for the ‘neutral/positive’ conceptions of ideology which he attributes to Lenin, Lukács, and Gramsci.215 This is what Larrain calls the ‘notion of ideology as political ideas’ or class ‘world-view’.216 Furthermore, he discusses another interpretation of the dichotomy which ‘links ideology with the totality of forms of consciousness produced by society’.217 This view is supposedly justified by the fact that Marx sometimes talks of ‘ideological’ or ‘idealistic superstructure’,218 so that ideology and superstructure are treated as synonyms. Then, since Marx talks about superstructure in relation to ‘forms of social consciousness’, the two are also equated so that we obtain: superstructure = ideology = social consciousness in general. Identifying superstructure and ideology with all forms of social consciousness contradicts Larrain’s interpretation. He thus thinks that ‘the solution is to propose a superstructure of ideas or “ideational superstructure” which contains both non-ideological and ideological forms of consciousness’.219

211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219

Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1987b) p. 263. Rosen, M. (1996) p. 358. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 80. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 57. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 46. Ibid., p. 169. Ibid. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1979) pp. 89, 373. Ibid., p. 172.

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Although Larrain’s separation of superstructure of ideas (forms of social consciousness in general) from ideology (as particular forms that conceal social contradictions) seemingly solves the problem of integrating a negative conception of ideology with the base/superstructure dichotomy, other problems with this interpretation arise: On the one hand, to distinguish the superstructure from the base or foundation from which it rises may lead us to believe that consciousness is a secondary phenomenon, a mere reflection whose reality is ultimately to be found in the production relations. (…) On the other hand, the spatial image may induce the opposite idea such that the base and the superstructures are seen as separate and self-sufficient totalities.220 First, why should all ideas be part of the superstructure, especially given that this superstructure also seems to contain the state and legal frameworks? As Eagleton puts it: ‘The relation between my act of frying an egg and my conceptions about it is not the same as the relation between the economic activities of capitalist society and the rhetoric of parliamentary democracy’.221 The second problem concerns the exact relationship between the base and the superstructure. How does the former determine the latter? Should the latter be understood as having some autonomy? While the structure/superstructure dichotomy represents an issue for those arguing that Marx holds a negative definition of ideology, it is the starting point for McCarney’s interpretation: ‘in the 1859 “Preface” ideology is seen as supplying the intellectual weapons of all parties to the social conflict’.222 This means that ‘the ideological forms constitute, it seems, the medium of the class struggle in the realm of ideas’.223 This conception is ‘neutral’ or ‘positive’ in the sense that it does not characterise ideology in terms of error or distortion. Throughout his work, McCarney gives other examples of Marx using the term in this neutral and political fashion,224 and argues that the ‘negative notions’ presented by other commentators result from a ‘misreading of The German Ideology’.225 For McCarney, ‘ideology is thought which serves class interests’.226 So, how do we know when thought serves class interests? McCarney does not provide any ready-made formulas, but argues that: Ideological complexes operate by directly incorporating evaluative elements: these are, as it were, the semantic carriers of their class tendency. Thus, they will embody an assessment or grading of, evince a pro or 220 221 222 223 224 225 226

Ibid., p. 174. Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 74. McCarney, J. (1980) pp. 80–81. Ibid., p. 6. Ibid., pp. 81, 84. Ibid., p. 82. Ibid., p. 127.

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contra attitude towards, states of affairs and human activities; towards, that is, particular patterns of social arrangements and the practices that seek to modify, preserve, strengthen, undermine or transform them.227 In other words, the connection between ideology and the class interests it serves must be understood in relation to the evaluative claims the former makes on the salient social arrangements, human activities, and practices it either tries to strengthen/defend/preserve or undermine and transform. So that if an ideology evaluates a certain aspect of social reality negatively, that is because it seeks to transform it, and it seeks to transform it because that is in the interest of the class/group propagating the said ideology. Some aspects of McCarney’s interpretation will be integrated in our theory during our discussion of Gramsci (pp. 177–178). Let us start our analysis of the literature by addressing the problem of whether Marx held a negative or neutral definition of ideology. In our view, Marx had no definition of ideology and that is why the term was used sometimes in a neutral/political sense, and at other times in a negative/epistemic sense. Although commentators supporting the negative conception can find ample support for this reading in The German Ideology, the polemic nature of the work makes one wonder whether the negative/derogatory use of the term is contextual. Generally, it appears that enough evidence exists to support both interpretations. And since we are arguing that Marx had no definition of ideology, the ambiguity, and the controversy surrounding it helps prove our point. In the case of the structure/superstructure dichotomy Marx seems to hold a neutral definition of ideology. However, this should not be understood as containing all forms of social consciousness, otherwise, as previously discussed, we would create an artificial distinction between ideas and the economic base. Instead, I agree with McCarney that the superstructure contains only political ideas. In the ‘1859 Preface’, Marx mentions ‘religious, artistic or philosophic’ forms, suggesting a broad conception of superstructure including all ideas. However, one must pay attention to the fact that Marx is singling out religious, artistic and philosophic forms in which individuals become conscious of the conflict (between the relations of production and productive forces) and fight it out. These are not artistic, religious, or philosophic forms in general, only those that address this conflict, and by doing so become political. By participating in the struggle, they thus enter the ideological terrain within the superstructure. Our understanding of the terrain and its relation to the economic base (and class interest) will be developed later (pp. 176–179) through Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks (as Marx never develops this). Although our analysis of ideas within the superstructure will be developed later, we can now consider the base/superstructure metaphor in relation to the state. Marx often calls the state the ‘superstructure’, and links it to class 227 Ibid., p. 10.

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struggle or the economic base.228 Indeed, he famously describes ‘the executive of the modern state’ as ‘a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie’.229 I believe that the state should be considered as a superstructure for the following reasons: 1

2

3

4

The state’s existence depends on the existence of surplus produced by the base (otherwise an institution specialising in the ‘production’ of laws and their enforcement would be unfeasible). In this sense, the superstructure stands on the economic base. The state must regulate and protect the relations of production and the social order they produce (in this sense, the state represents a meta-structure necessary for the orderly organisation and protection of the base). (As a consequence of 2) the economic base depends on the state’s protection for its own reproduction (meaning that while the state depends on the base’s surplus, large economies depend on the state for their safeguarding). The state is the means by which classes’ economic interests can pursued through the establishment of convenient policies and laws.

Thus, to speak of base and superstructure is to highlight this mutual interdependence between the economy and the state. So how does the economic structure determine the superstructure? One answer to this problem is provided by G.A. Cohen in his masterpiece, Karl Marx’s Theory of History: A Defence. There he presents two definitions of superstructure: ‘(1) The superstructure: all non-economic institutions. (2) The superstructure: those non-economic institutions whose character is explained by the nature of the economic structure’.230 The relationship between base and superstructure is constructed in terms of explanans and explanandum: ‘The character of the superstructure is largely explained by the nature of the economic structure’.231 Due to his emphasis on institutions Cohen excludes ideology from the superstructure. Although the first proposition might make sense given that Marx often associates the superstructure with the state, the second seems to me problematic. In fact, one can explain the superstructure (if all one means by superstructure is the state) by reference to the structure/base as much as one might do the opposite. For example, I could argue that the laissez faire policies and laws characterising contemporary western states can be explained by reference to 228 See for example, Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 89, Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1980) p. 51. 229 Marx, K. (1976a) p. 486. 230 Cohen, G. A. (2000) p. 216. 231 Ibid., p. 217.

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globalisation. But I could also say that globalisation is explained by the laws and policies contemporary western states establish. Furthermore, his interpretation almost makes it seem as if every state policy can be reduced to underlying economic needs (e.g., the material interests of ruling groups). How can one explain Nazi Germany by solely looking at economic factors? Marx was never committed to such a strong relationship between the economic structure and the state. The economic base explains some essential features of the superstructure, but not all, as the following passage proves: It is always the direct relationship of the owners of the conditions of production to the direct producers (…) which reveals the innermost secret, the hidden basis of the entire social structure, and with it the political form of the relation of sovereignty and dependence, in short, the corresponding specific form of the state. This does not prevent the same economic basis— the same from the standpoint of its main conditions — due to innumerable different empirical circumstances, (…) from showing infinite variations and gradations in appearance, which can be ascertained only by analysis of the empirically given circumstances.232 Marx argues that the ‘hidden basis’ of the state is to be found within the underlying relationship between the owners of the conditions of production (the dominant class) and the direct producers (subordinate class), that is what we called (pp. 97–100) ‘relations of production’. This means that the state is determined by the relations of production at least to the extent that it must protect and regulate those relations through laws and enforce their respect through coercion/ punishment. However, Marx also says that the shape taken by the economic base and the state/politics supporting it at a given time can only be ascertained by the empirical analysis of circumstances. In other words, although the state must protect the underlying relations of ownership, what else it does is contingent on circumstances, and must therefore be studied empirically. Despite the wealth of insights that can be found within Marx’s writings, the relationship between base and superstructure is never further explained. While the above propositions might help us understand some features of this dichotomy, other questions naturally arise from this. How can we make sense of the claim that the economic base determines the superstructure? Since politics (and state policy) seem to have a certain independence from material factors, how can we explain this without abandoning a materialist theory? How can class struggle become part of the superstructure by becoming political struggle? Should other apparatuses (e.g., churches, schools, media, etc.) be included in the superstructure (as suggested by Althusser’s ISAs model)? These questions will be addressed through Gramsci’s works in Chapter 4. The reader should not, however, despair, as we have now gained the fundamental elements to explain the basics of Marx’s historical materialism. 232 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1998) p. 778.

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The mode of production and the theory of formation of ideas From the previous section, we have concluded that Marx does not explain proposition two insofar as he never explicitly explains how the economic base transforms the superstructure (regardless of whether we are referring to political ideas or the state). All we could say is that relations of production need a state to protect them. However, this can only explain differences between modes of production (e.g., feudal and capitalist) but not changes in state policy within the framework of the same relations of production. We then rejected proposition nine as a possible definition of ideology and argued that Marx talks of inversion only to characterise the ideas of the Hegelian tradition but not all ideology (p. 94). Finally, although Marx’s idea that ruling classes rule intellectually makes sense from the materialist perspective (as they possess the means for mental elaboration and the distribution of this elaboration), he never explains in what sense those ideas rule, and how subordinate groups are subjected to them. One hint towards explaining this second statement could be that subjugated groups accept dominant ideas because they are always presented as universal by the rulers (see p. 105). However, this still seems to put little faith in the cognitive skills of individuals. Furthermore, Marx never explains whether ruling classes dominate in the production of all ideas or only some. Because of this, propositions seven and eight will be addressed in our discussion of Gramsci’s Notebooks (pp. 184–187) Nevertheless, I believe we can (at least partially) explain the rest of our propositions. Let me start by addressing the problem of material practice’s determination. I believe that our analysis of The German Ideology has led us to two types of determination proposed by Marx: necessity and ontological primacy/priority. We might try to explain Marx’s statements by appeal to those two concepts. Let us start from proposition one, stating the primacy of material production over other aspects of reality. This is, in my opinion, the core assumption of Marx’s concept of mode of production. I believe the meaning of this statement can be summed up in the following manner: a b c

d

Material production is necessary because individuals satisfy their needs through it. Material production needs cooperation, so cooperation is a necessity of production. Within class societies, material production should, at the same time, be understood as a process of surplus appropriation and exploitation. We must conceive this process as the unity of the productive forces (labour + means of production) and the relations of production (relations of property/ownership), which together form the mode of production. The development of the productive forces determines what (the object) can be produced and how it can be produced (the division of labour internal to production), as well as the existence and necessity of corresponding skills, conceptions and practices.

Historical materialism and ideology e

f g

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The relations of production determine the specific forms (product, labour, value) and mode (coercion/free exchange) of appropriation of surplus by the dominant class through their ownership of the productive forces, as well as the aim of production and distribution of its products. Those relations are therefore both practically real and necessary for production. A conflict exists between classes because one class controls the process of production without actively taking part in it. From this class conflict arises the contradiction between relations of production and the productive forces that manifests itself in uneven development, unequal time spent working, and uneven consumption among members of different classes. Due to this conflict and contradiction we must assume a constant relation of class struggle between dominant and subordinated classes. Material production under class societies has the following consequences:

   

It alters nature and shapes the environment individuals live in, which in turn shapes the individual. It multiplies the needs and capacities individuals have, although unevenly. The contradiction between the relations of production and the productive forces creates the conditions (inequality) for the development of social conflicts and widespread social problems. These consequences are always pre-conditions for the next cycle of production

Although these propositions do not address how the mode of production determines political forms (something that in my opinion is addressed through the structure/superstructure dichotomy, to which we will turn shortly), they show the extraordinary effect material production plays in shaping the fabric of society. The tools individuals can use, the skills they can acquire through their use, the shape of their environment, the form taken by the division of labour, all depend on the technological development of the productive forces. This level of development thus determines the tools, skills, division of labour, and environment the individual must (out of necessity) engage with. Hence, on the one hand the productive forces have an ontological primacy (they create what exists), while on the other, the participation in (at least some aspects of) their reproduction and development by the individual is necessary. Relations of production (that is of property) determine the social relations of production through which one (idle and dominant) class can appropriate the surplus produced by a working (subordinate) class. The struggle between those two classes, along with the uneven development this relation brings about, constitute the grounds on which (at least some) social problems and conflicts arise, while the relations of property themselves create corresponding social practices. Thus, while the conflict of interest and the uneven development caused by the relations of production has ontological

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priority over the other, more contextual social conflicts and problems (it constitutes its material basis), social practices through which property is exercised (force/free exchange) become objective and necessary (they exist and must be practically engaged with) features of society. The above statements can be understood as summarising Marx’s theory of mode of production. This holistic perspective eliminates any bourgeois distinctions between economics and culture, by highlighting that the facts of production and consumption (class struggle, the development/crippling of human capacities, the consumption of new objects, etc.) are at the same time facts of life and culture. It all depends on the perspective. Think of buying and eating a burger from a fast-food chain. This is an economic fact (I am exchanging money for the burger), and yet also a cultural activity, as I am taking part in the fast food world and enjoying its peculiar way of consuming (with my hands, without worries about bon-ton). It is precisely this duality that is causing such a backlash against globalisation. It is not so much the fact that my nation imports American products that worries me. The problem lies in how those products bring with them new social practices and cultures, which I fear might destroy all the national traditions I hold dear. The same goes for the transformation of traditional handmade production into mass production through the capital/labour relationship. This economic fact becomes a fact of culture as I now relate to production in a different way, and my life must adapt to the demands of capitalist accumulation. This unity between production/consumption, culture and life is conveyed by Marx in the following passage: This mode of production must not be considered simply as being the reproduction of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather it is a definite form of activity of these individuals, a definite form of expressing their life, a definite mode of life on their part. As individuals express their life, so they are. What they are, therefore, coincides with their production, both with what they produce and with how they produce. Hence what individuals are depends on the material conditions of their production.233 Let us now present our theory of the formation of ideas, through which we seek to explain propositions five and six. The theory can be summarised in the following manner: 1

2

The mode of production creates the surroundings, objects, relations, social practices, and contradictions individuals must necessarily engage with on a practical level. These objects, relations, and social practices must necessarily also be engaged with on a cognitive level (unity of thought and practice).

233 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) pp. 31–32.

Historical materialism and ideology 3

4 5

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The existence of these objects, relations, social practices, and contradictions also makes it possible for them to become subjects for individual contemplation. The division of labour leads the individual to encounter certain objects, social practices, ideas, and contradictions instead of others. The division of labour makes the cognitive engagement with certain objects, practices and ideas necessary for individuals due to their position.

We can therefore think of this determination happening on both a general (social) level, where the engagement with certain objects, practices and relations is necessary for everyone involved in the process, and on the individual level dictated by the division of labour. The general level (propositions one, two, three) of this determination will be further explored through our analysis of commodity fetishism and the capitalist mode of production (pp. 148–154). The individual level (propositions four and five) will be further discussed in the final chapter (pp. 203–204). We should also notice that the theory of determination is minimal insofar as it only argues that production makes the acquisition of certain ideas (those that correspond to the practical activity of individuals) necessary and by doing so it also creates (ontological primacy) the objects of possible contemplation. We are also claiming that one’s position within the division of labour will affect the likelihood of one’s coming across certain ideas. However, we are not committed to the idea that the position within the division of labour makes the individual necessarily think in a certain way about everything else (which would entail a much stronger understanding of determination). Let us now provide the reader with a (minimal/initial) sketch of the base/ superstructure dichotomy: a

b c d

Under class societies dominant groups develop a superstructure (composed, at least of political ideas and the state) to protect the relations of production by conferring on themselves ownership over the productive forces. So, the superstructure supports the base. The relations of production determine the state to the extent that it must guarantee the basic relations of property. The state is an instrument for the assertion of economic interests through convenient policies and laws. The superstructure is a terrain in which class struggle and its contradictions take political form.

This interpretation is so incomplete, one might feel embarrassed to even propose it. However, its usefulness lies precisely in the fact that its vagueness highlights the need for further elaboration. As I argued previously, I believe Marx does not explain propositions two, three, and four. Although when Marx talks of ideas being determined by contradictions and being part of the superstructure, we might assume he is talking specifically of political ideas

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(not ideas in general), but this of course begs the question, what makes ideas political? The wording of the passage we discussed earlier (p. 114) suggests ideas can become political if through them individuals become conscious of social problems and conflicts springing from class antagonism. However, this definition is rather vague, and besides, surely ideas can be political for other reasons? These questions will be answered through our discussion of Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks (pp. 176–179). For now, let us just say that we plan to create a definition of ideology compatible with what we have said so far, and that this definition will be constructed through a reading of Gramsci’s works. Thus, our understanding of ideology will make it part of the superstructure as well as characterising it as inherently political. However, before we do this, we must first conclude our journey into Marx’s historical materialism. Although we have now provided a basic summary of his theory of mode of production and formation of ideas, we have only considered them in their most general form (applicable to all historic periods). Given that Marx’s works are mostly dedicated to the analysis of the capitalist mode of production, and that we are trying to create a theory of ideology that can address this mode of production specifically, from now on our focus will be exclusively on capitalism. In the next chapter we will show that, although Marx does not have a theory of ideology, his analysis of fetishism can be understood as a further development of his theory of the formation of ideas. Fetishism represents a concrete example of how material practices (corresponding to certain relations of production) make the acquisition of certain cognitive frameworks necessary.

3

Commodity fetishism

The commodity form This chapter has three aims. First, to introduce the reader to the peculiarities of the capitalist mode of production. Second, to explain the mysterious concept of commodity fetishism. Third, to try to prove that, through the concept of fetishism, Marx provides a concrete example of the first three points (one, two, three pp. 122–123) of his general theory of the formation of ideas (which we believe are expressed by proposition five: material practice determines ideas). So, in this sense, his theory of fetishism should be understood as a subtheory of this more general framework. Our discussion will be carried out through the reading of salient passages from Marx’s Capital Volume I. We will follow Marx’s order of exposition and begin with the commodity form: ‘The wealth of societies in which the capitalist mode of production prevails appears as an “immense collection of commodities”; the individual commodity appears as its elementary form’.1 Capital Volume I begins with the commodity because Marx believes it to be the elementary form of all capitalist relations of production. The commodity has a dual character: it possesses use value and exchange value. The first quality is easy to comprehend, ‘the usefulness of a thing makes it a use-value’ so that this characteristic ‘is conditioned by the physical properties of the commodity and has no existence apart from’2 those physical properties. The second appears mysterious: Exchange-value appears first of all as the quantitative relation, the proportion, in which use-values of one kind exchange for use-values of another kind. This relation changes constantly with time and place. Hence exchange-value appears to be something accidental and purely relative, and consequently an intrinsic value, i.e. an exchange-value that is inseparably connected with the commodity, inherent in it, seems a contradiction in terms.3

1 Marx, K. (1990) p. 125. 2 Ibid., p. 126. 3 Ibid.

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Exchange value appears contradictory. The proportions in which physically different commodities (and their use values) exchange for one another always vary. Yet this quality appears inherent in the commodity itself. How can exchange value seem like something in the commodity itself even though it constantly varies, and appears as something ‘purely relative’? As we will see later (pp. 150–151), Marx is here implicitly referring to the value form in its qualitative aspect, something that (perhaps for the sake of simplicity) he is yet to introduce. Since ‘the exchange relation of commodities is characterised precisely by its abstraction from their use-value’,4 physical properties cannot be the basis for their exchange value. Marx thus concludes that ‘if we disregard the use-value of commodities, only one property remains, that of being products of labour’. However, since exchange value does not concern qualitative differences between objects, but only quantitative differences, ‘the useful character of the kinds of labour embodied in them also disappears’. The specific type of labour employed for the production of a certain use value becomes a matter of indifference from the perspective of exchange, and therefore all commodities are ‘together reduced to the same kind of labour, human labour in the abstract’.5 Marx then explains that the magnitude of value according to which a commodity exchanges with another one depends on ‘the amount of labour socially necessary, or the labourtime socially necessary for its production’.6 This should be understood as the time necessary to produce a given commodity under specific historic and economic circumstances. This necessary time varies primarily depending on the development of the productive forces:7 ‘The introduction of power-looms into England, for example, probably reduced by one half the labour required to convert a given quantity of yarn into woven fabric’.8 In general, the greater the productivity of labour, the less the labourtime required to produce an article, the less the mass of labour crystallized in that article, and the less its value. Inversely, the less the productivity of labour, the greater the labour-time necessary to produce an article, and the greater its value.9 Marx concludes that ‘now we know the substance of value. It is labour. We know the measure of its magnitude. It is labour-time. The form, which stamps value as exchange-value, remains to be analysed’.10 Here we have the first 4 5 6 7

Ibid., p. 127. Ibid., p. 128. Ibid., p. 129. Marx points out that ‘the social organization of the process of production’ and ‘the conditions found in the natural environment’ also contribute in determining socially necessary labour time. Ibid., p. 130. 8 Ibid., p. 129. 9 Ibid., p. 131. 10 Ibid.

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explicit hint of a distinction which has been generally ignored by commentators, i.e., that between exchange value (the magnitude of value) and the value form in general. We will come back to this later (pp. 150–151). Let us now stick to the text. Marx points out that ‘in order to become a commodity, the product must be transferred to the other person, for whom it serves as a usevalue, through the medium of exchange’. In other words, a product of labour becomes a commodity only when it is produced with the purpose of exchange rather than direct consumption. Nevertheless, to be exchanged it must also have a use value: ‘Nothing can be a value without being an object of utility. If the thing is useless, so is the labour contained in it; the labour does not count as labour, and therefore creates no value’.11 Marx then explains that the dual character of the commodity (use value/ exchange value) corresponds to the dual character of labour (it produces specific use values, and the labour time necessary for its production determines the magnitude of its exchange value) :12 With reference to use-value, the labour contained in a commodity counts only qualitatively, with reference to value it counts only quantitatively, once it has been reduced to human labour pure and simple. In the former case it was a matter of the ‘how’ and the ‘what’ of labour, in the latter of the ‘how much’, of the temporal duration of labour. Since the magnitude of the value of a commodity represents nothing but the quantity of labour embodied in it, it follows that all commodities, when taken in certain proportions, must be equal in value.13 At this point, Marx discusses the development of the value form through different stages. Given the length and complexity of this analysis, we will skip to the money form: ‘The universal equivalent form is a form of value in general. It can therefore be assumed by any commodity. (…) It becomes its specific social function (…) to play the part of universal equivalent within the world of commodities’.14 The money form should be understood as the universal equivalent form. That is the commodity through which we can know the exchange value of other commodities. Thus, the money form expresses value as such or ‘value in general’. After a brief discussion of the money form, the text turns to the much-debated section entitled ‘The Fetishism of the Commodity and its Secret’.

11 12 13 14

Ibid. Ibid., p. 132–137. Ibid., p. 136. Ibid., p. 162.

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The fetishism of the commodity and its secret Geoffrey Pilling argues that although there is a separate section dealing with fetishism, it is not as though Marx deals with this matter and then drops it. It is a notion which is present throughout the entire three volumes, (…) as well as in the Theories of Surplus Value.15 While this is true, we must pay attention to the section’s place within Capital, to understand what Marx is trying to say. We must bear in mind that Marx has only explained the very basics of the commodity form at this point. He is yet to explain key features of his analysis such as the accumulation of surplus value, wage form, the valorisation process, etc. We should thus interpret his statements within this context, instead of making claims that only make sense in relation to later chapters/volumes of Capital. The section starts off by coming back to the relation between a commodity’s use value and its exchange value. Marx again denies any supposed link between the two, and he then asks: ‘Whence, then, arises the enigmatic character of the product of labour, as soon as it assumes the form of a commodity? Clearly, it arises from this form itself ’.16 The products of labour acquire their ‘mysterious’ form once they are produced as commodities (that is, to be exchanged with money). For Marx, the abstract equality of all human labour naturally derives from the fact that ‘however varied the useful kinds of labour, or productive activities, it is a physiological fact that they are functions of the human organism’.17 Under the capitalist mode of production this equality is alienated and transferred inside the commodity (the value form); in other words, it possesses the quality of being commensurable and, consequentially, exchangeable.18 The actual time spent by the worker in the production is similarly alienated and transferred into its product in the form of the magnitude of value (exchange value), as expressed by the product’s price. Because of this, social relations of production are experienced by individuals practically involved in the process, as relations between the things produced and exchanged:

15 16 17 18

Pilling, G. (2010) p.101. Marx, K. (1990) p. 164. Ibid. By commensurability I mean the standard definition of the quality of being comparable, that is of being the same in accordance to a given standard. This is not the same as exchangeability, but since the latter presupposes the former (all exchangeable objects must be commensurable, while not all commensurable objects are exchangeable), I will use them as synonyms throughout this work.

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The mysterious character of the commodity-form consists therefore simply in the fact that the commodity reflects the social characteristics of men’s own labour as objective characteristics of the products of labour themselves, as the socio-natural properties of these things.19 The commodity form is so mysterious because it alienates the social characteristics of labour into the objects it produces. Thus, although Marx’s analysis starts with the problem of understanding the commodity’s ‘enigmatic character’, the discussion soon develops into an analysis of the peculiar social relations surrounding its production, which raises important issues concerning the ways in which agents, under capitalism, must necessarily relate to what they produce and to each other: Objects of utility become commodities only because they are the products of the labour of private individuals who work independently of each other. The sum total of the labour of all these private individuals forms the aggregate labour of society. (…) The labour of the private individual manifests itself as an element of the total labour of society only through the relations which the act of exchange establishes between the products, and, through their mediation, between the producers. To the producers, therefore, the social relations between their private labours appear as what they are, i.e. they do not appear as direct social relations between persons in their work, but rather as material relations between persons and social relations between things.20 Products of labour become commodities only when they are produced by private individuals, whose aim is to sell them rather than consume them. Exchange is not only the final aim of production but also the sole means through which producers come into contact. It represents the only moment in which ‘the social character’ of production ‘surfaces’. In fact, since each producer must acquire certain commodities (e.g., raw materials, machinery), he must also deal with other producers. Thus, value is the expression of capitalist production’s ‘social character’, as it makes relationships of exchange possible by making commodities commensurable. However, since these social relations between producers are only established through exchange, they appear to the individuals involved in production as relations between things. In other words, since every producer is solely concerned with either acquiring a particular commodity because of its use value or alienating the one he has produced in exchange for money, the relation between subjects becomes, in practice, a relationship between the ‘things’ exchanged. This reification of social relations is thus not something occurring only within the mind of the individual, but rather how social relations are in reality. 19 Marx, K. (1990) p. 164–165. 20 Ibid., pp. 165–166.

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Then Marx explains that the value/use value distinction becomes part of the producers’ practical reasoning once exchange has become widespread enough to make the production of objects for the purpose of exchange possible.21 Once commodity production becomes established as the norm, the labour ofindividuals must necessarily acquire this twofold form through their products. The labour must be useful in the sense that it must satisfy some sort of social need. This means that the work performed by the producer is not dictated by her own needs or those of other specific people, but by a ‘general social need’. Meanwhile, the producer’s own interests/needs are satisfied by the fact that his own labour is commensurable to every ‘other kind of useful private labour’, so that he can exchange his products with other commodities (through money).22 This all means that: Men do not therefore bring the products of their labour into relation with each other as values because they see these objects merely as the material integuments of homogeneous human labour. The reverse is true: by equating their different products to each other in exchange as values, they equate their different kinds of labour as human labour.23 The organisation of production and the role played by the commodity causes producers to view the relationship between their labour and their products in an ‘inverted way’. The inversion consists in the fact that producers do not employ their labour to produce commodities because they understand such objects to be objectifications of their abstract labour. Instead, they employ their labour to produce commodities because they think those objects possess value. As G. A. Cohen nicely puts it, ‘It appears that men labour because their products have value, whereas in fact they have value because labour has been bestowed on them’.24 The practical implications of this inverted understanding of the labour/ value relation is that production becomes subordinated to its products. It is not the needs of the individuals that drive production, but rather the expectation that the commodities produced will be exchanged for money. Commodities can be said to rule over their producers because they drive the productive process. What we are now calling inversion is also a domination of objects over producers, insofar as production has now the sole aim of exchange. Production is informed by the commodity’s assumed exchange value. Instead of being determined by society’s needs, labour is directed towards the production of commodities. This means that the social role of labour is alienated and embodied in the commodity’s value, which satisfies the needs of society only after entering the market and being sold. 21 22 23 24

Ibid., p. 166. Ibid. Ibid. Cohen, G. A. (2000) p.120.

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This inverted production, which makes individuals produce for exchange (subordinating production to its products), also entails that these individuals must concern themselves with the proportions in which those commodities are exchanged. And these proportions play an essential role in determining the choices of producers: The value character of the products of labour becomes firmly established only when they act as magnitudes of value. These magnitudes vary continually, independently of the will, foreknowledge and actions of the exchangers. Their own movement within society has for them the form of a movement made by things, and these things, far from being under their control, in fact control them.25 Since the aim of production is exchange, producers must carefully consider the exchange value of the commodities they are producing and of those which are needed to carry out the process (e.g., raw materials, machinery, etc.). Their actions will consequently be affected by the proportions in which such commodities exchange with one another. Although the price of commodities varies continuously, Marx believes that the magnitude of commodities’ value (that is, their exchange value) mostly varies in accordance with the socially necessary labour time that is needed to produce the objects, which is determined by the development of the productive forces. Thus, ‘in the midst of the accidental and ever-fluctuating exchange relations between the products, the labour-time socially necessary to produce them asserts itself as a regulative law of nature’.26 So the determination of value in terms of socially necessary labour time asserts itself as a ‘law of nature’ to which the producers must ‘bow down’ if they want to bring the commodity they produce to the market at a competitive price. Given that the value of commodities changes over time due to the advent of new machinery that alters the socially necessary labour time needed to produce them, every producer will always have to ‘keep up’ with these changes. In this case, producers can be said to be ruled by their products insofar as their choices about how to carry out production (and, supposedly, about what to produce in the first place too) are determined by the exchange value of the needed commodities and of those they themselves produce. Note that this domination is dependent on the previous inversion (production is subordinate to the exchange of its products). Marx believes that the way in which commodities appear within the realm of exchange can only be explained by reference to the relationship between exchange and production. Commodities’ ‘mystic character’ within exchange follows from a productive process that is not aimed at directly fulfilling people’s needs. Production is rather subordinated to the realm of exchange, and because of this the products of labour ‘acquire’ their ‘special character’ (of 25 Marx, K. (1990) pp. 167–168. 26 Ibid., p. 168.

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having value). This is not recognised as being a characteristic which they possess due to their all being (equally) products of labour. So far, Marx has been describing the peculiar relations behind commodity production that determine its form as an object possessing a ‘supra-sensible’ and ‘social’ character. He then argues that ‘The whole mystery of commodities, all the magic and necromancy that surrounds the products of labour on the basis of commodity production, vanishes therefore as soon as we come to other forms of production’.27 Marx wants to prove the historical specificity of capitalist relations of production because political economists of his time considered such relations as ‘natural’. In fact, even ‘classical economists’ like Adam Smith and Ricardo, who realised that the magnitude of value is determined by labour time, nevertheless still naturalised the value form itself, and consequentially capitalist relations of production: Political economy has indeed analysed value and its magnitude, however incompletely, and has uncovered the content concealed within these forms. But it has never once asked the question why this content has assumed that particular form, that is to say, why labour is expressed in value, and why the measurement of labour by its duration is expressed in the magnitude of the value of the product. These formulas, which bear the unmistakable stamp of belonging to a social formation in which the process of production has mastery over man, instead of the opposite, appear to the political economists’ bourgeois consciousness to be as much a self-evident and nature-imposed necessity as productive labour itself.28 Marx gives some examples to prove these economists wrong. First, he takes political economists’ favourite fictional character, Robinson Crusoe, and points out that ‘all the relations between Robinson and these objects that form his self-created wealth’ are in this case both ‘simple’ and ‘transparent’.29 This is due to the obvious fact that Robinson employ his labour to make things for his personal use.30 The second example concerns the feudal system. Marx argues that the social relations of feudalism were relations of personal dependence between individuals, such as for example those between ‘serfs and lords, vassals and suzerains, laymen and clergy’.31 Thus, since ‘relations of personal dependence form the given social foundation, there is no need for labour and its products to assume a fantastic form different from their reality’.32 The working activity of individuals is here determined by the relations of dependence between them, so the serf ’s labour needs to satisfy his lord’s needs, and its products will be consumed by him. In exchange for his 27 28 29 30 31 32

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p. p. p.

169. 174. 170. 169. 170. 170.

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services, the serf is granted protection, and allowed to use the lord’s land while keeping some of the labour’s products for himself. The purpose of labour in this case is to produce use value either directly (as a service) or through the production of given goods (through the cultivation of the land) which will then be consumed. Since, under feudalism, the relations of production are not mediated through the exchange of commodities, the relation between the serf, his labour and its products are straightforward and ‘transparent’. Finally, Marx considers those societies where production is carried out through the ‘directly associated labour’ of individuals. The first example is that of ‘the patriarchal rural industry of a peasant family which produces (…) for its own use’.33 Here again, the purpose of production is direct consumption. Under the patriarchal system each member of the family is assigned a role within the productive process and the products are shared. In this case, Marx points out, ‘The distribution of labour within the family and the labour-time expended by the individual members of the family, are regulated by differences of sex and age as well as by seasonal variations in the natural conditions of labour’.34 So again here the social character of labour is determined by definite social relations between people, and the measurement of the working activity in terms of labour time naturally develops from them. These relations are transparent, and each member understands his specific role within the productive process. Thus, in this case too, the products do not assume any supra-sensible quality but are simply viewed in terms of their use value and consumed by their producers. In the last example Marx discusses an imaginary socialist society that he describes as ‘an association of free men, working with the means of production held in common, and expending their many different forms of labourpower in full self-awareness as one single social labour force’.35 Each individual would hold a specific place within a productive process which is aimed at satisfying his own needs and these of society. The products of labour, Marx explains, are either kept as means of production in order to keep the process going or allocated to individuals to satisfy their personal needs. Thus, in this case too, ‘The social relations of the individual producers, both towards their labour and the products of their labour, are here transparent in their simplicity, in production as well as in distribution’.36 Marx’s analysis of other modes of production has not only shown us that commodities acquire their ‘mystic character’ only under capitalism, and that capitalist relations of production are not ‘natural’. By looking at those examples, we also see that in all these cases, the relations determining the productive process are direct and permanent relations between individuals. 33 34 35 36

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p.

171. 171. 171. 172.

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These relations are determined in advance and individuals are aware of their place within the process, while the products of labour are directly consumed by the individuals involved in it. Thus, the social character of labour is obvious to each participant from the start and the relationship between producers and their products is straightforward/transparent. Under capitalism the social character of labour only surfaces during the act of exchange, and value (which is simply a social relation) is what makes such exchange possible. Since each commodity appears to naturally possess value, from the individual’s perspective, relations between people appear as relations between the things exchanged. Marx’s analysis of fetishism does not only concern commodities but also the way in which we relate to each other, to our labour and its products. It is important to note that Marx is focusing on the commodity form in general (as an object possessing both value and use value) to explain the connection between the realm of production and that of circulation in the most abstract and general way. In fact, he is yet to explain how production is carried out, and consequentially the relationship between capital and labour, the exploitation of the worker, etc. This analysis shows us that the peculiar way in which capitalist production is organised presupposes the alienation of labour into its products, the subordination of the producers to their products, and the consequent reification of the relations between producers. The reader might notice that we are yet to define fetishism. This is because the concept is further developed by Marx in the rest of Capital Volume I and other works. Furthermore, the meaning of fetishism is ambiguous and the topic of much debate among Marxist commentators. Therefore, before we attempt to define fetishism, we should first explain key concepts and relations within Marx’s Capital Volume I, and then discuss the different interpretations of fetishism proposed by commentators. In this way, the reader will have the knowledge necessary to evaluate their claims and form his/her opinion about whether their interpretations are compelling. Only after that will we define fetishism and explain the concept in relation to our interpretation of Marx’s theory of the formation of ideas. Our reader can therefore assess whether our explanation is more successful than other thinkers’. Let us now discuss the most central relationship within the capitalist mode of production: capital/labour.

Capital, labour, and surplus value So far, we have seen that under capitalism all social relations of production are mediated through exchange, and therefore appear to those involved in the process as relations between the things exchanged. However, we do not yet know what capital is. We might guess that capital is money. However, not all money is capital. If I exchange money for a commodity, I am exchanging equivalents. What I lose in money terms, I gain in terms of use value. This form of exchange cannot be what gives capital its ‘productive’ characteristics:

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The change in value of the money which has to be transformed into capital cannot take place in the money itself, since in its function as means of purchase and payment it does no more than realize the price of the commodity it buys or pays for, while, when it sticks to its own peculiar form, it petrifies into a mass of value of constant magnitude.37 Instead, Marx believes this change can originate only in the actual use-value of the commodity, i.e., in its consumption. In order to extract value out of the consumption of a commodity, our friend the money-owner must be lucky enough to find within the sphere of circulation, on the market, a commodity whose use-value possesses the peculiar property of being a source of value. (…) The possessor of money does find such a special commodity on the market: the capacity for labour, in other words labour-power.38 Money only becomes capital when it is exchanged for labour-power. However, what the capital pays for is not the ‘value of labour’ (although, as we will see, this is what it appears to be doing), but rather the temporary ownership and appropriation of its use value. This is because Marx asserts that labour is the only commodity whose use value is, at the same time, the source of value. Nevertheless, labour power is treated like any other commodity, and as such, it is assumed to possess value (rather than producing it). This value ‘is determined, as in the case of every other commodity, by the labour-time necessary for the production, and consequently also the reproduction, of this specific article’.39 However, what is being produced and reproduced here, is not an object, but rather the existence of individuals selling their labour power. The maintenance of the worker then ‘requires a certain quantity of the means of subsistence. (…) The value of labour-power is the value of the means of subsistence necessary for the maintenance of its owner’.40 In other words, the value of labour power is determined by the minimum necessary for the subsistence of the worker selling it. This necessary minimum varies: The number and extent of his so-called necessary requirements, as also the manner in which they are satisfied, are themselves products of history, and depend therefore to a great extent on the level of civilization attained by a country; in particular they depend on the conditions in which, and consequently on the habits and expectations with which, the class of free

37 38 39 40

Ibid., p. 270. Ibid. Ibid., p. 274. Ibid.

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Furthermore, the process of the consumption of labour power is at the same time the production process of commodities and of surplus-value. The consumption of labour-power is completed, as in the case of every other commodity, outside the market or the sphere of circulation.42 Therefore, to understand how capital appropriates the surplus through the consumption of workers’ labour, we must leave the ‘noisy sphere’ of circulation and follow Marx on his journey into the ‘hidden abode of production’.43 For the money owner to become a capitalist, she must not only pay to use workers’ labour-power, but also own the means of production (tools, spaces, and raw materials) necessary to make a given commodity. Thus, the capitalist has ownership over the means of production and temporal ownership over the worker’s labour. This has two consequences: First, the worker works under the control of the capitalist to whom his labour belongs; the capitalist takes good care that the work is done in a proper manner, and the means of production are applied directly to the purpose, so that the raw material is not wasted, and the instruments of labour are spared, i.e. only worn to the extent necessitated by their use in the work. Secondly, the product is the property of the capitalist and not that of the worker, its immediate producer. (…) From the instant he steps into the workshop, the use-value of his labour-power and therefore also its use, which is labour, belongs to the capitalist (…). The labour process is a process between things the capitalist has purchased, things which belong to him.44 The ‘work’ performed by the capitalist is merely supervision (although this job might instead be given to ‘a special kind of wage labourers’45). Despite his lack of active engagement, our capitalist has ownership not only over the means of production and the labour power of the workers, but also over the products of their toil. Production is therefore commanded by the capitalist. It appears as a process between things capital owns. Capitalists produce commodities to sell them. However, our entrepreneur must also ‘produce a commodity greater in value than the sum of the values 41 42 43 44 45

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid., Ibid.,

p. 275. p. 279. p. 292. p. 450.

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of the commodities used to produce it (…). His aim is to produce (…) not only use-value, but value; and not just value, but also surplus-value’.46 Translated into everyday business language, this simply means that revenues must exceed costs. Now our question is, how does our capitalist make sure that what he produces has greater value than its costs? In other words, how is surplus-value appropriated and accumulated? Marx’s answer is clear, ‘the surplus-value results only from a quantitative excess of labour, from a lengthening of the ‘labour-process’.47 It is ‘merely a congealed quantity of surplus labour-time’.48 Thus, if our capitalist wants to appropriate this surplus, it is in her interest to pay the minimum necessary for the worker’s subsistence (which appears as the exchange value of labour power), while making sure that the toil of the worker always exceeds the amount paid to her: ‘The capitalist always makes labour-power work longer than is necessary for the reproduction of its own value’.49 The ‘trickery’ through which the capitalist appropriates and accumulates surplus is concealed by the wage-form, which appears as the payment for the labour time employed: ‘The wage-form thus extinguishes every trace of the division of the working day into necessary labour and surplus labour, into paid labour and unpaid labour. All labour appears as paid labour’.50 A further elaboration of this point can be found in Capital Volume III and in Theories of Surplus Value in the paragraphs dealing with the ‘Trinity Formula’, a theory asserting a correlation between certain forms of revenue and their (supposed) respective sources. According to the Trinity Formula, capital is the source of both profit and interest, while land is the source of rent, and labour the source of wages. For Marx, the idea that capital produces profit and interest, while land produces rent, can only rest on the fact that the wage form makes it appear as if the value produced by labour is accounted for, meaning that the rest of the value produced in the process is attributed to other sources (capital and land). Thus, for Marx the wage form represents the most irrational form, because it conceals the role of labour as the sole source of value. The rest of the formula is dependent on this concealment: It might appear that in the trinity land – rent, capital – profit (interest), labour – wages, the last group is the most rational. At least it states the SOURCE from which wages flow. But it is on the contrary the most irrational of them all, and the basis for the other two, in the same way as wage labour in general presupposes land in the form of landed property and the product in the form of capital. Only when labour confronts its conditions in 46 47 48 49 50

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p. p.

293. 305. 325. 679. 680.

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Commodity fetishism this form, is it wage labour. As wage labour it is defined by the formula labour – wages. Since wages here appear to be the specific product of labour, its sole product (and they are indeed the sole product of labour for the wage worker), the other parts of value – rent and profit (interest) – appear to flow just as necessarily from other specific sources. And just as that part of the value of the product which resolves in wages [is conceived] as the specific product of labour, so those parts of value which are made up of rent and profit must be regarded as specific results of agencies for which they exist and to which they accrue, that is, as OFFSPRING OF THE EARTH AND OF CAPITAL, RESPECTIVELY.51

Another aspect of capitalist production and surplus accumulation we must consider is the relationship between workers and machinery/means of production: ‘the means of production are at once changed into means for the absorption of the labour of others. It is no longer the worker who employs the means of production, but the means of production which employ the worker’.52 In the Appendix53 to Capital Volume I, Marx elaborates this: The means of production thus become no more than leeches drawing off as large an amount of living labour as they can. Living labour for its part ceases to be anything more than a means by which to increase, and thereby capitalize, already existing values. (…) And they now manifest themselves moreover as the rule of past, dead labour over the living. It is precisely as value-creating that living labour is continually being absorbed into the valorization process of objectified labour. In terms of effort, of the expenditure of his life’s energy, work is the personal activity of the worker. But as something which creates value, as something involved in the process of objectifying labour, the worker’s labour becomes one of the modes of existence of capital, it is incorporated into capital as soon as it enters the production process.54 Within the productive process, capital takes the form of the means of production, which are employed to produce specific use values while also absorbing the value produced by the worker’s labour by objectifying it into the value of its products. We here find a second inversion, where the ‘dead labour’ of the means of production dominates the living labour of the worker. Because of this, labour simply appears as a ‘cog’ within the productive process started by capital, as the value it produces relies on the use of the machinery capital has been converted into. 51 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1989) pp. 530–531. 52 Marx, K. (1990) p. 425. 53 According to Mandel, this text was originally planned by Marx as part 7 of Capital Volume I, Ibid., p. 943. 54 Ibid., p. 998.

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Since production itself becomes an attribute of capital, all the characteristics of production are also attributed to it: The transposition of the social productivity of labour into the material attributes of capital is so firmly entrenched in people’s minds that the advantages of machinery, the use of science, invention, etc. are necessarily conceived in this alienated form, so that all these things are deemed to be the attributes of capital.55 The social character of labour and the employment of science also appear as characteristics inherent in capital. On the one hand, workers cannot cooperate and produce unless capital brings them together. On the other hand, the products of the general development of history (…) confront the workers as the powers of capital. They become separated effectively from the skill and the knowledge of the individual worker; and even though ultimately they are themselves the products of labour, they appear as an integral part of capital.56 Not only is the worker alienated from social production and scientific knowledge, which confront him as the characteristics of capital, but all technological advancements embedded in the machinery are employed by capital to improve surplus accumulation: ‘Within the capitalist system all methods for raising the social productivity of labour are put into effect at the cost of the individual worker’.57 In fact, when it takes the form of a machine, [capital] immediately becomes a competitor of the worker himself. The self-valorization of capital by means of the machine is related directly to the number of workers whose conditions of existence have been destroyed by it. The whole system of capitalist production is based on the worker’s sale of his labour-power as a commodity. The division of labour develops this labour-power in a onesided way, by reducing it to the highly particularized skill of handling a special tool. When it becomes the job of the machine to handle this tool, the use-value of the worker’s labour-power vanishes, and with it its exchange-value. The worker becomes unsaleable, like paper money thrown out of currency by legal enactment.58 Machines compete with workers because their improvement might make the latter redundant. The worker acquires his skill by using the machinery 55 56 57 58

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p.

1058. 1055. 799. 557.

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employed in production, so that his activity is reduced to the repetition of simple actions. Once better machinery is introduced (automatising processes previously needing human input) the skills acquired by the worker lose their use value and consequentially their exchange value. The worker’s skills are no longer necessary, and she must therefore try to find work in other industries (and consequentially adapt her skills to the use of new machinery). Capitalist production is therefore responsible for the crippled development of the workforce, and the unemployment which the introduction of new machinery brings about. As Mandel nicely puts it: This whole gigantic machinery can function under capitalism only for the purpose and with the goal of private appropriation of profit, of profit maximization by each individual firm, which is something quite distinct from optimum economic development (and even from the optimization of the division and growth of social material resources). The conflict between, on the one hand, the development of the objectively more and more socialized productive forces and, on the other, the capitalist relations of production based upon private appropriation determines both recurrent economic crises and a potential social crisis.59 This is the form taken by the contradiction between the productive forces and the relations of production under capitalism. Advances in the machinery are used for surplus accumulation. Because of this, the productive process hinders the development of the human element within the productive forces as well as making workers redundant over time. From this, Marx contends that economic crises occur cyclically. Although we cannot discuss economic crises under capitalism in depth, we will treat the one most connected with the process we have just described, that is the crisis of overproduction. As technological development pushes all the ‘useless’ workers into the streets, the working (and not working) population has less money to buy the commodities produced, meaning our entrepreneur will find himself with a factory full of goods nobody can afford. This puts our capitalist out of business; his work force is made redundant, which in turn contributes to exacerbating the crisis. Economic crises might then lead to wider social crises (e.g., crime and drug abuse in those areas particularly afflicted by unemployment and poverty). Now that we have a rough idea of the most central characteristics of capitalism, we can finally address the concept of fetishism by first discussing the secondary literature on the topic.

59 Ibid., p. 946.

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The controversy continues In this section we will address some of fetishism’s interpretations and assess whether they find support in Marx’s texts, as well as discussing their strengths and weaknesses. Before we turn once again to the controversy, we must emphasise that even though Marx dedicates a whole sub-chapter of Capital Volume I to fetishism, within that section, the term is only used four times,60 and never defined. Furthermore, considering Marx’s talk of mysteries and illusions, it is only natural that those pages would produce much debate. We can begin our discussion with Rosen’s interpretation. As previously discussed, his overall argument is that Marx had different ‘models’ of ideology. One of them is said to be found within Marx’s analysis of fetishism, what Rosen calls the ‘essence and appearance’ model,61 which ‘appeals to the analogy between Marxist theory and the natural sciences’.62 Rosen explains that ‘the illusions involved are not false beliefs about reality but stem from the fact that reality itself is false’.63 Rosen ignores the fact that Marx never talks about ideology, false ideas or ‘false reality’ in relation to fetishism. As we have seen (p. 91), his method is to attribute to Marx terminology and concepts Rosen arbitrarily chooses. Marx talks about ‘mysterious’ and ‘illusory’ objects/relations, but he never calls them ideology or argues they are false. Rosen cites the following passage: ‘all science would be superfluous if the outward appearance and the essence of things directly coincided’,64 along with some comments Marx makes in relation to the wage-form.65 From this Rosen deduces the following claims: 1 2 3

That we should see reality as layered, having a surface appearance governed by an underlying structure. That to make such a distinction is characteristic of the scientific approach to reality in general. That the phenomenal form conceals the real relations and falsifies them.66

Rosen finds nothing problematic with the first two propositions (that is the two propositions Marx actually states in the passages Rosen analyses), but he finds the third problematic: The objection is that claims (1) and (2) (which are plausible) do not, as Marx appears to assume, entail (3). According to claims (1) and (2), the 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

Ibid., pp. 165, 176. Rosen, M. (1995) pp. 383–395. Ibid., p. 383. Ibid., p. 384. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1998) p. 804. Marx, K. (1990) p. 680. Rosen, M. (1995) p. 385.

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Commodity fetishism way that we see the world is not, immediately, adequate for us to explain the way that the world is. But that does not make our perception of the world false.67

Once again, the straw man of false consciousness has been erected, only to be burnt to the ground by Rosen’s fiery criticism. Fetishism is then treated as a ‘theoretical illusion’68 and criticised on those grounds. Although we will not delve into Rosen’s battle against false consciousness, the following criticism is compelling: ‘it is by no means clear why an observer should be disposed to infer that commodities have their values intrinsically from the fact that the movement of their values is volatile’.69 Rosen is referring to the passage we have previously discussed (p. 125). There Marx argues that individuals treat value as a property of commodities, even though the proportions (the magnitude of their value) by which they exchange with one another, ‘vary continuously’.70 Why would anyone hold such belief ? Even from a practical standpoint, nobody treats a commodity’s exchange value (expressed in its price) as something intrinsic in the object. Everyone would know from experience that prices changes. Surely anyone who has been to a sale would know this. So, is Marx arguing that individuals naturalise exchange value? Is this his theory of commodity fetishism? Cohen seems to answer affirmatively to these questions. Indeed, he summarises fetishism as follows: 1 2 3 4

The labour of persons takes the form of the exchange value of things. Things do have exchange value. They do not have it autonomously. They appear to have it autonomously.71

We will come back to this issue in the next section. Let us now stick to our discussion of commentators. While Rosen sees fetishism as a theoretical problem, Eagleton suggests we interpret it as an issue of practical knowledge/ consciousness. Just like Rosen, Eagleton connects fetishism with ideology. His view is (supposedly) confirmed by the presence of the term inversion, even though it appears under a new guise: It is clear, then, that the motif of inversion passes over from Marx’s early comments on ideology to his ‘mature’ work. Several things, however, have decisively altered in transit. To begin with, this curious inversion between human subjects and their conditions of existence is now inherent in social reality itself It is not simply a question of the distorted perception of 67 68 69 70 71

Ibid. Ibid., pp. 390, 394. Ibid., p. 394. Marx, K. (1990) p. 167. Cohen, G. A. (2000) pp. 116–117.

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human beings. (…) Ideology is now less a matter of reality becoming inverted in the mind, than of the mind reflecting a real inversion.72 However, since Eagleton understands Marx’s theory of fetishism as a theory of ideology, he runs into some issues. First, he wonders whether ‘ideology has been, so to speak, transferred from the superstructure to the base’,73 and then argues: The advantage of this new theory of ideology over the case pressed in The German Ideology is surely clear. Whereas ideology in the earlier work appeared as idealist speculation, it is now given a secure grounding in the material practices of bourgeois society. (…) One might feel, however, that if The German Ideology risks relegating ideological forms to a realm of unreality, the later work of Marx pulls them a little too close to reality for comfort. Have we not merely replaced a potential idealism of ideology with an incipient economism of it? Is all that we dub ideology really reducible to the economic operations of capitalism?74 On the one hand, this new theory of ideology seems to clash with what Marx says in The German Ideology and with the base/superstructure metaphor presented in his ‘1859 Preface’. On the other, fetishism reduces all ideological formations to the practical knowledge individuals form through their engagement with commodities. However, the whole problem vanishes once we acknowledge that Marx is here not presenting a theory of ideology, but rather applying his theory of the formation of ideas to the capitalist mode of production. Rehmann also discusses the supposed inconsistencies between Marx’s ‘theories of ideology’,75 but maintains that they are compatible with one another. We must just try to ‘develop analytical instruments that grasp the ‘meetingpoints’ and combinations between ideological discourses and the ‘objective thought forms’ of bourgeois society that produce common-sense mystifications’.76 Rehmann’s interpretation of fetishism is also compelling and (in my opinion) well supported by the text. Indeed, Marx argues that ‘the categories of bourgeois economics (…) are forms of thought which are socially valid, and therefore objective, for the relations of production belonging to this historically determined mode of social production’.77 From this, Rehmann deduces that ‘as an “objective thought form”, commodity-fetishism is both a form of social life in bourgeois society and a corresponding form of practice and 72 73 74 75 76 77

Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 85. Ibid. Ibid., p. 87. Rehmann, J. (2013) pp. 48–52. Ibid., p. 51. Marx, K. (1990) p. 169.

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consciousness, that is, “reasonable” practice as well as practical reason’.78 Thus, although our engagement with reality presupposes a fetishistic relation to the products of our labour, this engagement gives rise to forms of thought that are objective insofar as they correctly reflect our practical behaviour within production. Our relating to one another through the products of our labour, becomes ‘reasonable practice’ and ‘practical reason’. Note that we will borrow Rehmann’s concept of ‘objective thought form’ and further develop it through our theory of the fetishistic formation of ideas in the next section. While the authors discussed so far are all concerned with how Marx’s theory of fetishism could be made to cohere with what he says in The German Ideology and the ‘1859 Preface’, this does not represent a problem for Larrain. In fact, he gets around this ambiguity by making the concept of ‘concealment’ central to his definition. In this way, he can argue that while in his earlier writings Marx is concerned with ‘philosophical and theoretical forms of ideology’, he later ‘turns his attention to ideological forms which arise spontaneously reproduced in the consciousness of those involved in economic life’.79 In both cases, Marx criticises ideology for being a ‘distorted’ representation of reality ‘concealing social contradictions’. Since Larrain relies on the idea of concealment to link the ‘earlier’ with the ‘later’ critique, there is no need for him to connect the two in any other way. He also has no reason to wonder whether the analysis of fetishism is compatible with ‘the rest of Marx’s theory of ideology’. According to Geras, the problem of fetishism should be understood through the concepts of ‘essence and appearance’. ‘Appearances’ represent the ways in which producers perceive commodities within the realm of circulation, where they all exchange commodities. Geras clarifies that ‘this means, not that a relation between persons takes on the illusory appearance of a relation between things, but that where commodity production prevails, relations between persons really do take the form of relations between things’.80 Thus, these appearances are ‘real in practice’. Unfortunately, even though Geras seeks to present fetishism through the framework of ‘essence and appearances’, he never explains the ‘essence part’ of this dichotomy. Geras interprets fetishism as a twofold phenomenon entailing both ‘mystification’ and ‘domination’. He then deals with the two aspects separately. Let us start by looking at ‘domination’. The main problem with Geras’ analysis is that he seems to conflate Marx’s discussion of commodity fetishism with the analysis of alienation in the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844. In fact, he talks about the independence of the production process vis-à-vis the producers, the past labour of the worker confronting him as a hostile power in the shape 78 Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 43. 79 Larrain, J. (1983) p. 33. 80 Geras, N. (1971) p. 76.

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of capital, the instruments of labour employing the worker rather than vice versa, the drudgery and stupefaction of work.81 He then goes on arguing that all ‘these are comprised by the concept of alienation. However, in Capital Volume I this is a historical concept of alienation. Its social and historical premises are precisely economic relations based on the production and exchange of commodities’.82 Geras seems to be saying that these forms of domination mentioned above, which are all contained within the concept of alienation, are also implied by Marx’s analysis of fetishism which, however, presents the issue from a ‘historical perspective’. Geras then argues that the concept of alienation is present throughout Capital Volume I where the ‘roots of the phenomena’ ‘are located in specific social relations, and not in the fact that there is an ideal essence of man, his ‘speciesbeing’, which has been negated or denied’.83 There are two problems with this account. First, it is not clear what Geras means when he says that commodity fetishism represents an ‘historical concept of alienation’. I think Geras is right to point out that Marx’s analysis of fetishism concerns the social relations of capitalism themselves rather than the relationship between capitalist social relations and ‘human essence’. However, the type of alienation discussed by Marx seems to me an historical concept insofar as it is peculiar to capitalism. Second, instead of explaining the impersonal domination which is supposedly entailed by fetishism, Geras simply introduces forms of domination which are implied by the concept of alienation, and then goes on to argue that an ‘historical concept of alienation’ is present throughout Capital. Geras switches from a discussion of domination and fetishism to an attempt to prove that the concept of alienation appears throughout Capital. He also seems to argue that the types of domination implied by the concept of alienation and those of fetishism are the same. However, the fact that the concept of alienation appears throughout Capital Volume I cannot prove that fetishism and alienation entail the same forms of domination. Let us now discuss Geras’ analysis of ‘mystification’, where he draws a further distinction between: (a) those appearances, or forms of manifestation, in which social relations present themselves and which are not mystificatory or false as such, inasmuch as they do correspond to an objective reality; they become mystified only when regarded as products of nature or of the subjective intentions of men; and (b) those appearances, or forms of manifestation, which are quite simply false, illusions in the full sense, corresponding to no objective reality.84 81 82 83 84

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., p. 73. Ibid., p. 75.

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Unfortunately, the difference between the two is unclear, and the distinction itself is problematic. Let us first deal with those forms of mystification which correspond to ‘an objective reality’. When we exchange commodities, we are dealing with ‘appearances’ functioning as concrete social realities. Mystification consists in the ‘naturalisation’ of such ‘apparent reality’, and thus a failure to understand its historical specificity. Unfortunately, the specific object of such naturalisation is unclear. Geras seems to conflate issues concerning the appearances of the commodity form and the appearances of the relations of production behind it, so that his exposition of fetishism is made somehow confusing by the fact that he moves from one problem to the other. Nevertheless, he seems to understand fetishism as a process of mystification entailing the naturalisation of social practices. When talking about these appearances that do not correspond to any objective reality, Geras only discusses the ‘labour-wage’ relation, although presumably other forms exist. The value expressed by the wage form corresponds to the price paid for using workers’ labour power for x amount of time, rather than to the value that such power actually creates. Indeed, part of the worker’s labour goes unpaid, and the difference is ‘pocketed’ by the capitalist in the form of ‘surplus value’ (as previously discussed, pp. 137–138). The wage form conceals this fact (and consequentially the exploitation of the worker). Geras seems to argue that this mystification differs from previously discussed ones because the wage form’s appearances do not correspond to the objective reality of its underlying social relations. However, it is not clear why those relations do not correspond to any objective reality, given that the wage-labour relation constitutes one of the most essential relations under capitalism. I believe that Geras’ argument roughly runs as follows: The commodity’s value and the reified social relations behind its production correspond respectively to how the value of the commodity is determined by the magnitude of labour employed in it, and how production is actually carried out within capitalism. These are both understood by Geras as ‘objective realities’, and the process of mystification only arises if we ‘naturalise’ such processes. On the other hand, the wage form entails, by itself, some sort of ‘illusion’ insofar as the correspondence between its magnitude and the magnitude of the value created by the worker during production is fictitious. However, while it might be true that the wage-form presupposes a fictitious correspondence, this does not make such a relation ‘illusory’, as it really does exist. Overall, Geras’ analysis is detailed, deep and has the merit of highlighting the ‘domination’ of commodities over producers discussed by Marx. However, there are ambiguities in his analysis. Finally, let us briefly discuss Holloway’s interpretation. He conceives fetishism as something relating to the alienation of our labour into commodities. This leads to a situation where ‘relations between doers really are refracted through relations between things’.85 Holloway seems to focus on one consequence of this, namely ‘the penetration of capitalist power-over into 85 Holloway, J. (2005) p. 49.

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the core of our being, into all our habits of thought, all our relations with other people’.86 Indeed, our fetishistic way of engaging in production entails that ‘the breaking of the flow of doing deprives doing of its movement. Present doing is subordinate to past done. Living labour is subordinated to dead labour’.87 In other words, our doings (labour) are subordinated to the done (dead labour/capital). This is highlighted through Holloway’s work as the most dehumanising feature of capitalist societies. There are also more enigmatic statements such as ‘fetishism is concerned with the explosion of power inside us (…), shaping every aspect of what we do and what we think, transforming every breath of our lives into a moment of class struggle’.88 It is unclear how this subordination of labour to capital can be said to shape everything we think by transforming our lives into class struggle. Holloway’s conception appears as a ‘socialization model of ideology’ which assumes fetishism to be what ‘constitutes’ subjects under capitalism while also numbing their intellectual capacities. In this sense, it is akin to Horkheimer’s and Adorno’s conception of reification. Indeed, the following statement might as well come from Dialectic of Enlightenment: The separation of doing from done which is the basis of fetishism or reification thus involves an increasing formalisation of social relations and a corresponding formalisation of thought. In the course of the Enlightenment, the philosophical accompaniment to the establishment of capitalist social relations, reason becomes increasingly formalised.89 Our discussion of the secondary literature should give the reader a rough idea of some of the issues associated with commodity fetishism. Even though we can dismiss the problem of compatibility on the grounds that Marx is not proposing a theory of ideology, the other ambiguities must be addressed. The most central issue is whether fetishism automatically arises from our engagement with commodities (Eagleton’s, Rehmann’s, and Holloway’s view) or whether it should be considered a ‘theoretical’ issue characterised by a conscious attribution of qualities to commodities. As we have seen, Rosen, Cohen and Geras seem to support this latter interpretation. Rosen explicitly states that fetishism is a ‘theoretical illusion’. Although Cohen does not explicitly treat fetishism as a theoretical problem, his statements suggest that fetishism only arises if we ‘naturalise exchange value’, which hints toward a more ‘conscious’ evaluation of the phenomena (we fetishise commodities only if we believe their exchange value is ‘a natural property’). Cohen’s interpretation then falls prey to Rosen’s criticism. It is doubtful whether anyone would think exchange value is a natural property of commodities. Finally, 86 87 88 89

Ibid., Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. p. p. p.

50. 57. 56. 66.

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Geras’ insistence that fetishism only arises through the naturalisation of commodities and/or relations of production surrounding their production (this point is not entirely clear) also seems to point towards a more theoretical understanding of the problem (we only ‘mystify’ commodities by treating them ‘as products of nature’). All these issues will be discussed in the next section, where commodity fetishism will be interpreted as the application of Marx’s general theory of the formation of ideas to capitalist relations of production.

Material practice determines ideas: commodity fetishism Earlier on we argued that Marx holds a theory of the formation of ideas which, starting from the assumption that ideas and practice are unified, argues that the development of material practices determines the formation of ideas that are necessary for the engagement with production. In this section we will try to prove that Marx’s theory of fetishism seeks to explain how capitalist relations of production lead us to a ‘mystified world’ in which we practically and cognitively engage with objects as if they had properties that transcend their physical nature. However, before we present our interpretation, we must come back to the questions we left unanswered. Our first question is whether fetishism refers to a mystified ‘practical reason’ or whether it should be considered as a theoretical issue. I think there is enough evidence to support both interpretations. For example, Marx talks about the ‘foundation for the fetishism of the political economists’,90 suggesting this could be a theoretical mistake made by economists when they explicitly state that capital creates value or that the value form and the capitalist relations of production are natural. In other passages, fetishism appears in all its brutal reality: ‘The objective conditions essential to the realization of labour are alienated from the worker and become manifest as fetishes endowed with a will and a soul of their own. Commodities, in short, appear as the purchasers of persons’.91 Rehmann92 suggests that although fetishism is a practical matter, we must consider the relationship between the ‘pragmatically real’ yet fetishistic and illusory appearances, and theories or concepts built upon them. He then quotes the following passage to illustrate how Marx himself makes this connection: The sphere of circulation or commodity exchange, within whose boundaries the sale and purchase of labour-power goes on, is in fact a very Eden of the innate rights of man. It is the exclusive realm of Freedom,

90 Marx, K. (1990) p. 983. 91 Ibid., p. 1003. 92 Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 45.

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Equality, Property and Bentham. Freedom, because both buyer and seller of a commodity, let us say of labour power, are determined only by their own free will. They contract as free persons, who are equal before the law. Their contract is the final result in which their joint will finds a common legal expression. Equality, because each enters into relation with the other, as with a simple owner of commodities, and they exchange equivalent for equivalent. Property, because each disposes only of what is his own. And Bentham, because each looks only to his own advantage.93 By only considering the sphere of circulation (where all commodities are commensurable and freely exchanged), bourgeois thinkers can depict capitalism as an ‘Eden of freedom and equality’. Marx then swiftly attacks Bentham’s philosophy by highlighting its reliance on the separation of circulation from the rest of the productive process. Once we abstract away the drudgery of work from the picture, we can appeal to the practically real impression that we are free individuals disconnected from one another if not by self-interest. Marx shows how certain complex ideas and philosophies are built upon what we might call forms of practical reason (that is the cognitive side of practice) that capitalism makes necessary. This point is also made in The German Ideology: The complete subordination of all existing relations to the relation of utility, and its unconditional elevation to the sole content of all other relations, occurs for the first time in Bentham’s works, where, after the French Revolution and the development of large-scale industry, the bourgeoisie is no longer presented as a special class, but as the class whose conditions of existence are those of the whole society.94 We must stress that Marx is not saying that all bourgeois thinkers must be utilitarian, but rather that utilitarianism could not exist without certain relations practically backing it up. Utilitarianism is only possible under the conditions determined by the advent of capitalism and the extension of exchange as the means to establish social relations of production. This is what we have summarised in point three (p. 123) of our theory of the formation of ideas. Marx makes similar observations regarding the idea of a ‘world history’ among thinkers and the extension of trade ‘intercourse’ and ‘the natural division of labour between various nations’95: This transformation of history into world history is by no means a mere abstract act on the part of ‘self-consciousness’, the world spirit, or of any other metaphysical spectre, but a quite material, empirically verifiable act, 93 Marx, K. (1990) p. 280. 94 Marx, K. (1976b) pp. 412–413. 95 Ibid., p. 51.

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Commodity fetishism an act the proof of which every individual furnishes as he comes and goes, eats, drinks and clothes himself.96

The proposition stating that material practice determines the formation of ideas insofar as it creates the material basis (the productive practices and objects) that make such ideas possible (three p. 123), can be found implicitly throughout similar comments in Marx’s writings. Distinguishing (yet finding the means to connect) practical activity and its cognitive counterpart with abstract theorising is important if we think of the nuances of our interpretation of Marx’s theory of the formation of ideas. While practical and cognitive activity is necessary for the individual’s engagement with the mode of production, speculation or ‘theorising’ might not be. Furthermore, determining what the individual might think about the practices she is involved is not possible. Thus, we go as far as to say that the existence of certain practices makes them possible objects of contemplation (that is the extent to which material practice determines speculation/theorising). As we have seen earlier (p. 142), one can doubt that the naturalisation of exchange value (that is the belief that prices are commodities’ natural/inherent qualities) represents a widespread form of practical reason. Theoretically speaking, this naturalisation does not seem to occur either. Indeed, economists generally explain prices through some mechanism or other. In my opinion, fetishism refers to the naturalisation of the value form (that is objectified abstract labour making commodities commensurable to one another), rather than to exchange value. This subtle distinction is also implied by the passage we looked at earlier (p. 132) and explicitly stated in Marx’s criticism of Bailey’s analysis of value.97 I believe that this is also showed by Marx’s awkward remarks in Capital Volume I. As we tried to highlight in the first section (p. 126), Marx first introduces use value and exchange value, and for the sake of simplicity, does not explicitly discuss the value form as the relation of commensurability itself: When, at the beginning of this chapter, we said in the customary manner that a commodity is both a use-value and an exchange-value, this was, strictly speaking, wrong. A commodity is a use-value or object of utility, and a ‘value’. It appears as the twofold thing it really is as soon as its value possesses its own particular form of manifestation, which is distinct from its natural form. This form of manifestation is exchange-value, and the commodity never has this form when looked at in isolation, but only when it is in a value-relation or an exchange relation with a second commodity of a different kind. Once we know this, our manner of speaking does no harm; it serves, rather, as an abbreviation.98 (emphasis mine) 96 Ibid., 97 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1989) pp. 324–325. 98 Marx, K. (1990) p. 152.

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My argument is that Marx treats the naturalisation of the value form (the practical and unconscious assumption that all commodities are exchangeable through money) as the most elementary form of fetishism. This is what we might call (for lack of a better term) fetishism in exchange. However, let us now take a step back and begin the presentation of our interpretation of commodity fetishism in an order that appears to us most convenient. Although the following manner of presenting and dividing Marx’s theory of fetishism into smaller sub-theories makes sense to me, it might be arbitrary. Nowhere in his works does Marx explicitly state the order of his theory. We can begin with the pre-conditions necessary for capitalism to exist. The accumulation of vast sums of money (capital) in the hands of a few individuals alone does not guarantee capitalist production: Wakefield discovered that, in the colonies, property in money, means of subsistence, machines and other means of production does not as yet stamp a man as a capitalist if the essential complement to these things is missing: the wage-labourer, the other man, who is compelled to sell himself of his own free will.99 For money to become capital, it must find ‘free workers’, while workers become ‘free’ only once they are deprived of their means of production/subsistence: ‘The worker who is denuded of the means of production is thereby deprived of the means of subsistence, just as, conversely, a man deprived of the means of subsistence is in no position to create the means of production’.100 Therefore, ‘the expropriation of the mass of the people from the soil forms the basis of the capitalist mode of production’.101 From this we can deduce the following pre-conditions: 1 2 3

The means of production and subsistence are expropriated from the workers. Abstract labour is alienated and objectified into the value form of commodities. Labour time is alienated and objectified into the magnitude of value/ exchange value.

Capitalist relations of production therefore presuppose the expropriation of the means of production from the workers, the alienation of labour (in its qualitative and quantitative forms), and its objectification into its products. Alienation in this case simply means that qualities inherent in labour are alienated and objectified into its products. 99 Ibid., p. 932. 100 Ibid., p. 1003. 101 Ibid., p. 934.

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We can now move to the first part of our theory of fetishism, what we might call fetishism in exchange: 1

2 3 4

The social relations of production and consumption possess a twofold character: A exchanges use value X for money, while B exchanges money for use value X. The exchange of commodities becomes the sole means for producers to come into contact. The exchange of commodities becomes the sole means to satisfy most needs. Social relations of production appear as relations between things.

The central role played by exchange makes our social relations of production appear as relations between the things exchanged. This is something we take for granted without noticing it. Despite having distinct qualities, we treat these things as exchangeable through money. Fetishism in this case amounts to the practical assumption that commodities are commensurable/exchangeable with one another. We can borrow Rehmann’s words and call this general form of practical reason, corresponding to capitalist relations of production objective thought forms (that is, all forms of practical reason necessary for the engagement with the relations of production). From a theoretical perspective, this appearance creates the practical basis for bourgeois human rights, and the ideas of freedom, equality, and selfinterest glorified by thinkers like Bentham. Since all the products of our labour are commensurable, we act/think like free and self-interested individuals wishing to buy or sell commodities. Fetishism in circulation also conceals the fact that labour power is not a commodity. The commensurability brought by the value form makes the commodification of labour power appear as natural as the exchangeability of its products. The second part of our theory of fetishism is what we might call the inversion and subordination of production to exchange: 1

2

Exchange appears as the sole aim of material production = production is subordinate to its product = labour appears to have value only because its products do (inversion and domination). Production (how/what) is determined by fluctuations of commodities (domination), which are themselves (to a large extent) determined by fluctuations in the necessary labour time for their production, which is determined (to a large extent) by the development of the productive forces.

This inversion/subordination of production to exchange leads us to a situation where production is dominated by its products. Practically, this means that labour is only performed for the purpose of exchange. This entails that labour only has value once it has been objectified into its products. This is

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reflected in our minds, as for all practical purposes, we only consider value as something belonging to labour’s products. This form of practical reason should also be considered an objective thought form. Furthermore, our actions as producers and consumers are always informed by commodities’ exchange values. In this sense, we are dominated by commodities’ relations to one another. The next aspect of Marx’s theory we summarise might be called fetishism in exchange production.102 1 2

3 4

Capital is the necessary condition for production, so it appears to be the initiator of the process. The social qualities of production and scientific knowledge are attributed to capital. The productive process itself is also attributed to capital. It appears as a process between things capital owns. Capital appears to create value because it creates profit. The wage form appears as the exchange value of labour power.

The fact that production is impossible without capital initiating it, makes production itself look like a property of capital. This is the second inversion Marx describes, where dead labour (capital) dominates and directs the productive process carried out by living labour. This is also an objective thought form that is practically real and necessary (think of the common-sense statement: ‘I need capital to make/do this’). From our experience we know that no other way to initiate production exists. Therefore, practically and cognitively we treat capital as an object capable of starting production. A similar reasoning then holds for the second statement. Social production and scientific knowledge appear so entrenched within capital, that from a practical/cognitive perspective, they cannot be separated. Thus, we practically treat capital as an object expressing the qualities of science, as well as bringing about the cocooperation of producers. On a theoretical level one might be able to separate those things, but practically speaking, they are only brought about by capital. One example of theoretical constructions corresponding to these objective thought forms would be conceptions depicting the capitalist as a leader of industry, benefactor, job-creator, and scientific innovator: It is not because he is a leader of industry that a man is a capitalist; on the contrary, he is a leader of industry because he is a capitalist. The

102 This ambiguous terminology has its basis in the following passage from Capital Volume I: ‘The transformation of money into capital, both takes place and does not take place in the sphere of circulation. It takes place through the mediation of circulation because it is conditioned by the purchase of the labour-power in the market; it does not take place in circulation because what happens there is only an introduction to the valorization process, which is entirely confined to the sphere of production.’Ibid., p. 302.

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Commodity fetishism leadership of industry is an attribute of capital, just as in feudal times the functions of general and judge were attributes of landed property.103

Our final example of objective thought forms relates to the process of value/ surplus creation. Within exchange, capital appears to be the source of profit while labour appears to be the source of wages. As we have seen, this is simply an illusion that has its formal basis on the value form (making labour and capital commensurable), and its concrete basis on the wage form, which appears to express the whole value produced by labour. Even though Marx shows us the illusory character of the capital-profit and labour-wage dichotomies, those are categories which are practical real and necessary. Regardless of what we think, those forms appear, practically and cognitively, as objective pre-conditions104 for production. Thus, they should also be considered as objective thought forms. An example of theories arising from those forms of practical reason is provided by Marx himself through his analysis of the trinity formula. That is the formula explicitly postulating capital as the source of profit and interest, land as the source of rent and labour as the source of wages. This formula simply translates our practical experience into a theoretical construct. The purpose of distinguishing fetishism as an objective thought form, from the more theoretical constructions elaborated on its basis, is to highlight the differences between forms of thought that are practically necessary, from abstract forms of thought that are made possible by those practically necessary forms. In other words, although fetishism is a practically necessary illusion, our contemplative stance towards these practices is not set in stone. Fetishism makes fetishised theoretical constructions possible but not necessary.

The capitalist mode of production The previous analysis has some implications for our understanding of the role of ideology within the reproduction and development of the capitalist socioeconomic order. In fact, it appears that the objective thought forms necessary for our engagement with production (and consumption), by themselves conceal capitalist relations of class and power. This is something Marx points out when arguing that, under capitalism, ‘the process of exploitation is stripped of every patriarchal, political or even religious cloak’.105 In fact, ‘what brings the seller into a relationship of dependency is solely the fact that the buyer is the owner of the conditions of labour. There is no fixed political and social relationship of supremacy and subordination’.106

103 104 105 106

Ibid., pp. 450–451. Marx, K. (1990) p. 507. Ibid., p. 1027. Ibid., pp. 1025–1026.

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While under previous modes of production the appropriation of surplus value often took place through the coercion of certain individuals by others, and the position of said individuals corresponded to a (more or less) fixed social hierarchy, under capitalism, individuals form economic ties only through the exchange of commodities, which they do willingly and freely. Of course, Marx believes this freedom is fictitious as it conceals the dependence of the worker on the means of production and subsistence owned by the capitalist. Nevertheless, our practical engagement with the relations of production is determined by qualities that appear inherent in the products of our labour. All commodities can be exchanged with one another, and they are exchanged according to everyone’s personal choices, so all relations appear, as objective and dependent solely on the individual’s will. Because of this, I believe that consent for the capitalist socio-economic order appears spontaneous/voluntary (even though it arises from the material necessity of the ‘dispossessed’ workers) due to its underlying relations of production (the commodity form). It is possible to suggest that since those relations seem both spontaneous and objective, they are more likely to also appear natural to those involved in the process. In other words, capitalist relations of production might appear more natural than older relations that are based on personal hierarchies (and coercion). However, in my opinion, the naturalisation of relations of production mostly depends on our habituation to said relations. So that regardless of how brutal and arbitrary those relations might be, their existence, necessity and our habituation to them through practical activity, might still give us the impression that they are natural or at least inevitable. This idea will be further developed through our analysis of Bourdieu’s habitus/field dichotomy (pp. 195–197). Coming back to our question, we might now say that ideology does not play an important role in creating consent for the socio-economic order itself107, but rather serves the purpose of expressing class interests, creating support for certain political views, and counter-acting the dissent of more ‘rebellious’ social groups. This conception of ideology will be further developed in the next chapter (pp. 176–182), through our analysis of Gramsci’s works. However, before we turn to his works, we must first draw some conclusions concerning the capitalist mode of production. The previous discussion should provide the reader with the key elements necessary for understanding Marx’s analysis of the capitalist mode of production: a

Material production is necessary because individuals satisfy their needs through it.

107 As we will see (p. 213), ideologies can support certain features of the socio-economic order, or the socio-economic order itself. However, we want to claim that this active consent is not necessary for our engagement with the productive process. I might be very critical of capitalism, but I cannot live without participating in its reproduction. Whatever we think of capital, it appears to us as a practical necessity.

156 b c d

e f g

h

Commodity fetishism Material production needs cooperation, so cooperation is a necessity of production. Under capitalism all production is mediated through the exchange of commodities. All production is performed for the purpose of exchange and surplus accumulation, which relies on capital appropriating surplus labour time performed by the worker. The productive forces constantly develop only to be employed within the process of capital’s surplus accumulation. The technical aspect of the productive forces is developed only to hinder the development of its human element.108 The interest of the capitalist in surplus accumulation cripples the development of the workers, while also conflicting with their interest in higher wages. The conflict in material interests and uneven development form the permanent basis for the constant class struggle between capital and labour.

Material production under capitalism has the following consequences:    

Alters nature and shapes the environment individuals live in, which in turn shapes the individual. Multiplies the needs and capacities individuals have, although unevenly. The contradiction between the relations of production and the productive forces creates the conditions (inequality and unemployment) for cyclical economic crises which in turn form the basis for wider social crises. Those consequences are always pre-conditions for the next cycle of production

108 We are here talking solely of the development of skills within production (that is through the interaction between labour and technology as a means of production). We acknowledge that technology can develop the capacities and skills of any individual when freely employed through the individual’s consumption of technology purchased as a commodity (e.g., I buy a motorcycle and acquire the skills necessary to use it).

4

Gramsci’s Marxism

Gramsci’s Marxism We have tried to prove that Marx did not have a theory of ideology. We pointed out that the base/superstructure model was not properly developed by Marx, so that further discussion of the dichotomy was left to Gramsci. The meaning of propositions seven and eight was also left unanswered. This is because Marx does not explain: 1) In what sense are ruling ideas dominant? 2) In what sense do these ideas reflect the interests of the ruling classes? 3) In what sense are subordinate groups ‘subjected’ to these ideas? These questions will be discussed within this chapter and understood through Gramsci’s concept of hegemony. We will also further analyse Marx’s base/superstructure dichotomy, as well as presenting the core features of our theory of ideology. However, before that, we must briefly discuss some controversies surrounding the intellectual relationship between Marx and Gramsci.

Marx and Gramsci One problem the erudite reader might find with my attempt at merging Marx and Gramsci, is that Gramsci is often considered as deviating from the Marxist tradition. This is Laclau’s and Mouffe’s claim in Hegemony and Social Strategy: Our principal conclusion is that behind the concept of ‘hegemony’ lies hidden something more than a type of political relation complementary to the basic categories of Marxist theory. In fact, it introduces a logic of the social which is incompatible with those categories.1 According to this view, hegemony does not complement Marxist concepts, but presents a new understanding of social reality that is incompatible with them. Authors more sympathetic towards Marx, highlight the differences between Marx and Gramsci, even though they still understand the latter as following 1 Laclau, E., Mouffe, C. (2001) p. 3.

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(to an extent) the path laid by the former. For example, Peter. D. Thomas argues that Gramsci’s method: Is neither distinct from Marxism (…), nor identical with it (…). Rather, the term ‘philosophy of praxis’ was deliberately chosen in order to specify a particular tendency within Marx’s legacy, which Gramsci’s intervention proposed to strengthen, elaborate, and, ultimately, make hegemonic within the organised working-class movement.2 However, even authors seeking to prove the continuity between the two thinkers admit substantial differences when it comes to ideology. As we have seen, Marx is generally understood as presenting a critical/negative notion of ideology, while Gramsci’s understanding of the concept is interpreted as ‘neutral’ in the sense that it does not imply any form of distortion. Thus, Thomas claims that Gramsci conceives ideology ‘in a neutral sense, as the form in which humans know a world wracked by the “real” contradictions of class struggle’.3 This shift from (Marx’s) negative/critical to a positive/neutral definition of ideology is explained by Larrain in relation to ‘the fact that the first two generations of Marxist thinkers after Marx’s death did not have access to The German Ideology’.4 Because of this lack, Guido Liguori argues that in conceiving ideology ‘neutrally’, Gramsci ‘unknowingly’ rejected a ‘substantial’ part of Marx’s thought.5 Rehmann stresses the continuity and compatibility of Marx and Gramsci even in relation to ideology. Indeed, he argues that Gramsci also held a ‘negative/critical’ conception of ideology. Consequentially, ‘the prioritisation of a ‘neutral’ concept of ideology is one-sided in that it tends to suppress Gramsci’s critical usage of the concept’.6 Nevertheless, Rehmann acknowledges that: ‘There remains an important gap in Gramsci’s combination of ideology critique and theory of hegemony, namely, the absence of Marx’s critique of fetishism’.7 Although whether Gramsci was an ‘orthodox’ Marxist is debatable, we will try to prove that his works are compatible with Marx’s. We can dismiss problems arising from Gramsci’s ‘neutral’ conception of ideology that supposedly contradict Marx’s critical notion. As we have argued that Marx did not have a theory of ideology, this is not an issue for us. Nevertheless, the absence of the concept of fetishism within Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks might create doubts over our project. Our plan might appear problematic since we have already argued that the consent for the socio-economic order is already created

2 3 4 5 6 7

Thomas, P. D. (2009) p. 106. Ibid., p. 281. Larrain, J. (1986) p. 54. Liguori, G. (2015) p. 74. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 144. Ibid., p. 146.

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by the mere existence of the relations of production. In fact, Gramsci’s notions of hegemony and ideology are often interpreted as the kernel of socially constructed consent: Since hegemony pertains to civil society, and civil society prevails over the State, it is the cultural ascendancy of the ruling class that essentially ensures the stability of the capitalist order. For in Gramsci’s usage here, hegemony means the ideological subordination of the working class by the bourgeoisie, which enables it to rule by consent.8 A similar definition is also presented by Eagleton.9 Rehmann conceives hegemony as the idea ‘that the ruling class does not only “rule” but also “leads”, in the sense that it generates among its subjects a kind of consensus (active or passive) to its rule’.10 Robert Cox applies an analogous definition to the study of international relations: Hegemony is a structure of values and understandings about the nature of order that permeates a whole system of states and nonstate entities. In a hegemonic order these values and understandings are relatively stable and unquestioned. They appear to most actors as the natural order.11 Cox seems to treat hegemony as a ‘system of values’, something also suggested by Eagleton’s interpretation, which characterises hegemony as some ‘kind’ of ideology.12 Finally, Larrain sums up hegemony as ‘the ability of a class to secure the adhesion and consent of the broad masses’.13 How can this be compatible with our previous argument? Everything depends on how we define hegemony. For the moment, we propose the following passage contradicting those interpretations: ‘Hegemony is born in the factory and does not need many political and ideological intermediaries’.14 Although hegemony is often linked with culture and political discourse, the Notebooks also supports a broader interpretation of hegemony, to include the economic realm. In our view, hegemony is (broadly speaking) a theory exploring the social influence of dominant classes over subordinate ones. It has two aspects: domination and leadership. Hegemony should be conceived as a process, and to be more precise a series of efforts. To dominate is to make an effort to impose and set limits, as well as to educate and create social cohesion around them. Domination is also expressed through the supervision necessary 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Anderson, P. (1976). Eagleton, T. (1991) p. 110. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 3. Cox, R. (1996) p. 151. Eagleton T. (1991) p. 113. Larrain, J. (1983) p. 80. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 169. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 72.

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for those limits and rules to be respected, and through the punishment administered if they are not. Hence, we can sum up domination as having three aspects: 1. imposition of limits and rules, 2. education to those limits and rules, 3. supervision and punishment. To lead is to make an effort to persuade and create support. It is an effort to create faith in a person’s/group’s views and plans. The following passage supports our interpretation: The politico-historical criterion on which our own inquiries must be grounded is this: that a class is dominant in two ways, namely it is ‘leading’ and ‘dominant’. It leads the allied classes, it dominates the opposing classes. Therefore, a class can (and must) ‘lead’ even before assuming power; when it is in power it becomes dominant, but it also continues to ‘lead’.15 In the next section we will discuss hegemony within the economic base and try to prove its compatibility with Marx’s theory of fetishism. Indeed, the former could be conceived as an extension of the latter to explore the broader social consequences of material production.

Hegemony in the base In discussing commodity fetishism, we treated the problem of relating cognitive practice to speculative thought. Although Marx showed us examples of how certain theories can only be possible after certain economic conditions have developed, not much is said about the relationship between the cognitive capacities we acquire from production, and abstract thought. The perspective of Capital Volume I is strictly economic. It treats agents as bearers of economic categories. Gramsci’s way of understanding individuals involved in production is broader. Nevertheless, I believe that the following passage implicitly states the first three points of our theory of formation of ideas/proposition eight (material practice determines ideas): The tendency toward conformity in the contemporary world is more widespread and deeper than in the past; the standardisation of ways of thinking and of behaviour extends across nations and even continents. The economic base of collective man: big factories, Taylorization, rationalization, etc.16 This conformity should be thus understood as an example of the objective thought forms we talked about earlier.17 15 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 136–137. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 41. 16 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol. 3, pp. 164–165. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 862. 17 A similar point is made by Rehmann but in relation to what he calls the ideological apparatuses Rehman, J. (2013) p. 134.

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Gramsci was particularly interested in the ‘practice/theory’ nexus, especially in its political form. To express the unity between the two he argues that humans ‘are philosophers insofar as they operate practically and in their activity (in their lines of conduct) is implicitly contained a conception of the world, a philosophy.’18 Those few lines are rich in content. They highlight a distinction between the cognitive dimension of practice, and its theoretical expression (what we might call theory of practice). Gramsci also argues that: ‘Every individual carries on some intellectual activity: he is a philosopher, he shares a conception of the world and therefore contributes to sustain it or modify it, that is, to create new conceptions’.19 ‘Everyone is a philosopher’ could be interpreted as Gramsci’s social subject. We are all philosophers because our minds do not simply absorb our environment passively, we create causal constructions and narratives in our minds that explain things we encounter. Thus, Gramsci recognises that despite (or within) conformity there is room for independent intellectual activity. While our analysis of Marx focused on material practices, Gramsci discusses social practices in general, the problem of turning theories into reality (remember distinction p. 101), as well as levels of social cohesion/conformity among groups. The sociological bent of his thought is clear if we consider that capitalists are treated as ‘intellectuals’: It is the case that every entrepreneur is also an intellectual in the sense that he must possess certain technical capacity, not only in the narrowly defined field of economics but in other fields as well (…) (he must be an organizer of masses of men, he must be an organizer of ‘the confidence’ of the investors and his business, of the buyers of his products, etc.). If not all entrepreneurs, at least an elite among them must have the technical capacity (of intellectual nature) to be organizers of society in general, including its whole complex body of services right up to the state, in order to obtain the most favourable conditions for the expansion of their own group.20 What earlier confronted us as a sum of money or at best a supervisor, is now a social organiser, and a leader of industry. Although Gramsci retains Marx’s practice-orientated method, his focus is on the broader effects of material practice on the formation of other practices and on the cohesiveness and homogeneity among people. As a social organiser, our capitalist dominates her workers; as a leader, she must inspire faith in her activity. These are the two faces of hegemony within the economic base; in both cases efforts must be made, and influence must be asserted.

18 Ibid., p. 1255. 19 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol. 2, p. 215. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 488. 20 Ibid., p. 199. Ibid., p. 475.

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As a social organiser, the capitalist dictates the rules through which the productive force operates, as well as educating workers to conform to these rules. Our capitalist (or more likely, someone in his behalf) tries to habituate new recruits to the process and punish those who violate the rules. Education should be roughly understood as a combination of repetition21 over time and dialogue; the degree to which education becomes indoctrination would perhaps depend on the extent to which the repetitive part is more prominent. Our capitalist has concrete authority over the worker, that is simply to say the rules he creates must be respected, otherwise the latter will be fired. Concrete authority can be defined as authority (of a person/group over another person/ group) grounded on some underlying power to punish. The capitalist also has what we might call structural authority, in that she is an expert in the field of entrepreneurship, so her knowledge and views should be respected. This authority has to do with knowledge and credibility, which are grounded on the individual’s position within the division of labour. The social influence asserted through ‘economic domination’, and its broader social consequences are illustrated through Gramsci’s analysis of ‘Americanism’, a trend in production management (championed by the Ford industries) characterised by higher wages, more intensive production, and control/scrutiny over workers’ private life: ‘Inquiries by industrialists into the private lives of workers and the inspection services created by some industrialists to control the “morality” of workers are necessities of the new method of work’.22 This concern for the private life of the workers and this attempt to control ‘their morality’, is connected to the effort to create what Taylor calls ‘trained gorillas’, namely: ‘to develop the worker’s mechanical side to the maximum, to sever the old psychological nexus of skilled professional work in which intelligence, initiative, and imagination were required to play some role’.23 The intensification of the mechanical side of labour presupposes a ‘new kind of worker’ who can endure it. To ‘create’ this worker, American industrialists must not only concern themselves with workers’ behaviour within the factory, but also attempt to control their ‘free time’. Above all, industrialists were concerned with the workers’ consumption of alcohol and their sexual life.24 According to Gramsci, this led to ‘the increasingly sharp division between the morality-mores of workers and those of other strata of the population’.25

21 This is acknowledged by Gramsci himself when he argues that ‘repetition is the most efficient didactic means to operate on popular mentality’. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1392. This is also compatible with our later (pp. 194–197) introduction of habit into the mix. 22 Ibid., p. 215. Ibid., p. 489. 23 Ibid., p. 216. Ibid. 24 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 217. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 491. 25 Ibid., pp. 490–491.

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Gramsci’s analysis shows us how production leads to the formation of specific social practices that create a gap between the behaviour and values of different classes. Therefore, the domination of the capitalist within the firm is acknowledged as having significance for the social and cultural fabric of society. Such considerations could remind us of points three and four of our theory of the formation of ideas (or proposition six). However, Gramsci goes further than Marx, as the point is not solely to say that the division of labour makes certain ideas and practices necessary, but also that it entails an educative process that attempts to impose certain behaviours and norms of conduct that go beyond production itself. This in turn affects the general level of social cohesion and homogeneity among individuals at different positions within the division of labour. The leadership of capital relates to its being the initiator of production, employer of scientific knowledge (remember pp. 153–154) and creator of cooperative working forces (and, consequentially, jobs). Because of this, the entrepreneur is perceived as a social necessity. However, given that capitalism is a system of competition, not only among workers, but also within capital itself, each entrepreneur will have to create faith in his work among investors and consumers. Capitalists must therefore make efforts to lead and sell themselves as well as they sell their products. The effort to dominate within the factory, and its success, can to an extent determine whether the firm will lead in the market. In other words, whether the firm can inspire faith in itself (among investors) and its products (among consumers) to some extent depends on how successful it is in educating its work force and making it as productive and efficient as possible. In the economic realm, domination is a necessary component of leadership.

The intellectuals Gramsci’s focus on the problems of organisation, social cohesion and homogeneity is also made apparent by his (almost obsessive) research into what he calls ‘intellectuals’. Let us begin by discussing his distinction between ‘organic’ and ‘traditional’ intellectuals. Organic intellectuals are those connected with social groups having an ‘essential function in the world of economic production’. Their role is that of creating ‘homogeneity and consciousness’ of those groups’ ‘function in the economic sphere’.26 He also highlights that ‘in the modern world the category of intellectuals, in this sense, has undergone an expansion of unprecedented proportions’.27 This is because ‘all practical activities have become so complex and the sciences so intertwined with life that each activity tends to create a school for its own specialists and hence to create a group of intellectual specialists to teach in those schools’.28

26 Ibid., p. 199. Ibid., pp. 474–475. 27 Ibid., p. 201. Ibid., p. 477. 28 Ibid., p. 208. Ibid., p. 483.

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Traditional intellectuals are then described as follows: ‘every social group emerging into history out of the economic structure finds or has found – at least in all of past history – pre-existing categories of intellectuals that moreover seemed to represent a historical continuity’.29 Hence what seems to distinguish traditional from organic intellectuals is the fact that the former’s intellectual labour pre-dates the current economic system. Gramsci mentions ‘the ecclesiastics’, ‘the learned theorists’, and the ‘nonecclesiatical philosophers’ as examples.30 Such intellectuals do not exist because of their functional role within the realm of production, but rather because their intellectual labour is part of our tradition. Later in the same work, Gramsci seems to define intellectuals in general. He argues that it would be a mistake to attempt to characterise them by looking at the ‘intrinsic nature of their intellectual activity’. What is important is not the activity itself but rather its function within the ‘system of relations’. His general definition of intellectuals seems similar to that of ‘organic intellectuals’: By intellectuals, one must understand not [only] those ranks commonly referred to by this term, but generally the whole mass that exercises organizational function in the broad sense, whether it be in the field of production, or culture or political administration.31 Gramsci’s definition includes any individual who (due to her position within the division of labour) performs the function of organising and creating cohesion. It therefore includes positions varying from state bureaucrats to schoolteachers, supervisors to journalists. Nevertheless, those various activities can be ‘differentiated by levels’: ‘on the highest rung, we find the “creators” of the various sciences, philosophy, poetry, etc., on the lowest “administrators and disseminators”’.32 Intellectuals have various functions. Their role as organisers and educators is their only common feature. They often act as ‘middle-men’ between different groups. For example, what Gramsci calls ‘urban intellectuals’, ‘establish the relationship between the entrepreneurs and industrial masses’, while ‘intellectuals of the rural type bring the peasant masses into contact with the local or state administration (lawyers, notaries, etc.)’.33 This takes us to the following passage, where the role of the intellectuals for the formation of social cohesion and consent is highlighted:34

29 30 31 32 33 34

Ibid., p. 199. Ibid., p. 475. Ibid. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 133. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 37. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol. 2 p. 201. Ibid., p. 476. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 201. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 477. The following passage is not available in English. Nevertheless, a less elaborated version is in Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 200–201.

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The relationship between the intellectuals and production is not direct (…) but mediated on different levels, by the whole social fabric, by the complex of superstructures, of which the intellectuals are ‘functionaries’. We could measure the ‘organicity’ of different strata of intellectuals, their closeness to a fundamental group, fixing a range of their functions and superstructures from low to high (from the structural base up). We can, for now, fix two great superstructural ‘planes’, the one we can call ‘civil society’, that is the ensemble of organisms vulgarly called ‘private’ and those of the ‘political society or State’ that correspond to the function of ‘hegemony’ which the dominant group exercises over all society and the ‘direct domination’ or command that is expressed in the State and the ‘juridical’ government. Those functions are precisely organisational and connective. (…) That is: 1) The “spontaneous” consent of the large masses of the population to the direction taken by the social life of a fundamentally dominant group, a consent that is born ‘historically’ from the prestige (and therefore from the faith) deriving from its position and function within the world of production; 2) The apparatus of state coercion that ‘legally’ ensures the discipline of those groups that do not ‘consent’ either actively or passively, but is created for all society in prevision of moments of crisis in command and direction in which the spontaneous consent ceases.35 According to Gramsci’s definition of organic intellectuals, we can ‘measure’ this organicity by looking at how closely those groups relate to the fundamental classes (the capitalist and the worker). They also serve as ‘intermediaries’, and are described as functionaries of the superstructure, which seems to include both the state and civil society. Furthermore, they seem to play a role in organising the ‘spontaneous’ consent of the masses. The fact that Gramsci uses the term here in relation to the ‘consent’ within the field of production, suggests a further elaboration of the idea that hegemony is ‘born in the factory’. This confirms our claim of compatibility between an automatically generated (spontaneous/practical/passive) consent given by the needs of the property-less workers and capital’s possession of the means of production (as we argued earlier p. 155), and Gramsci’s conception of hegemony. The intellectuals play a role in this consent by trying to organise them in the most orderly and productive fashion, but the consent is already there, born out of necessity. The second role of intellectuals is as administrators of the apparatus of coercion and violence, the state. This apparatus guarantees that the law is respected, especially in periods of crises when the masses stop consenting to the mode of production and its laws. We conclude this section by pointing out some ambiguities in Gramsci’s writings. While the above passage suggests that the state is part of the superstructure (in line with our previous interpretation of Marx), it is not clear why Gramsci extends this concept to also include civil society. This leads us to the problem of his ‘flexible terminology’. 35 Gramsci, A. (2014) pp. 1518–1519.

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Flexible terminology Gramsci’s understanding of superstructure is ambiguous. He never defines the concept, and his use fluctuates between something like ‘every apparatus creating knowledge’ and ‘every apparatus of political struggle’. This inherent double meaning is explicit in the following passage: A class is formed on the basis of its function in the world of production: the growth of power, the struggle for power, and the struggle to preserve power create the superstructures that determine the formation of a ‘special material structure’ for the diffusion, etc., of those same superstructures. Scientific thought is a superstructure that creates ‘the scientific instruments’ (…). Logically as well as chronologically there are social structure – superstructure - material structure of superstructure.36 In my opinion, science should be understood as part of the productive forces. However, as Cohen puts it, ‘we are not, of course, arguing that all science belongs to the productive forces, but only the productively relevant part’.37 Gramsci’s use of the term is also ambiguous elsewhere, especially where he talks of plural ‘superstructures’. This term is often used as synonym for ideology.38 That does not help, however, since Gramsci’s use of terms such as ideology, philosophy, and common sense is also very flexible (and these concepts often appear as synonyms). This is something highlighted by Liguori: The ‘traditional’ sense of philosophy is, therefore, the more advanced part of the ideological continuum, equivalent to ‘conceptions of the world’ (or ‘conceptions of life’ or ‘visions of the world’). But there is a vast range of terms equated to ‘conception of the world’ (and thus to ideology) and a vast range of contexts and modalities in which the term is used.39 Later Liguori sums up his interpretation of Gramsci’s use of ideology alone: Ideology, in Gramsci, is the representation of reality proper to a social group. The individual subject has a vision of the world that is not only hers, but belongs to the group of which she is part, or else she shares in several visions of the world (…). Ideologies are ‘the terrain on which men move’. Collective subjects are defined precisely by ideologies. Without ideologies, there are no subjects. Ideology is the site of the constitution of collective subjectivity, but also (…) of individual subjectivity.40 36 Ibid., p. 154. Ibid., p. 434. 37 Cohen, G. A. (2000) p. 45. 38 Gramsci A. (2011) vol. 2 p. 175, Gramsci, A. (2014) vol. 1 p. 454, Ibid., vol. 3 p. 170, Ibid., vol. 2 p. 868. 39 Liguori, G. (2015) p. 82. 40 Ibid., p. 84.

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The influence of Althusser on Liguori’s reading is also evident, as nowhere in the Notebooks does Gramsci say that ‘without ideologies, there are no subjects’. Liguori’s analysis also shows the ambiguities surrounding common sense, which is sometimes defined as ‘a primitive philosophy which must be superseded’,41 but also as a ‘a fully-fledged variant of the concept of ideology’,42 and ‘as a subaltern “worldview” within a given socio-economic order’.43 Nevertheless, Liguori praises Gramsci’s flexible use of terminology: ‘The need to overcome common sense is a constantly recurring theme. Meanwhile, the mobile character of Gramsci’s use of terms and concepts – now descriptive, now prescriptive, and always dynamic – is reaffirmed’.44 Although we believe that Gramsci’s ‘dynamic’ way of using concepts interchangeably might be good if one considers the wealth of interpretations this could give birth to, defining concepts is also central for us. Therefore, in the following sections, we will present our interpretations of the pairs’ folklore/common sense, and ideology/philosophy. We think it is useful to present these concepts together, not only for the sake of brevity, but also because Gramsci seems to define them in contraposition to one another.

Common sense and folklore Interpreting common sense as something backward, provincial, and superstitious, is common practice among commentators. For example, Rehmann argues that ‘common sense is defined by its contradictory and incoherent composition, of which people are usually unaware’.45 Similarly, Hall describes it as ‘usually “disjointed and episodic”, fragmentary and contradictory,’46 even though earlier in the text he conceives common sense as ‘categories of practical consciousness’.47 Hall’s ‘flexible’ use of the term makes him vulnerable to an obvious criticism: how can common sense be practical consciousness if it is fragmentary and contradictory? How could individuals orientate themselves practically if their ‘consciousness’ is filled with contradictions? In my opinion, these interpretations are wrong, as they fail to distinguish common sense from what Gramsci calls ‘folklore’. However, we must admit that some passages suggest this view of common sense as fragmentary and incoherent: ‘The fundamental characteristic of common sense consists in its

41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Ibid., p. 106 Ibid., p. 88. Ibid., p. 62. Ibid., p. 111. Rehmann, J. (2013) p. 127. Hall, S. (2005) p. 431. Ibid., p. 27.

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being disjointed, incoherent, and inconsequential conception of the world that matches the character of the multitudes whose philosophy it is’.48 Common sense is here characterised as ‘incoherent’ and ‘disjointed’. However, this relies on a superficial reading of the passage. Gramsci is saying that ‘common sense’ is not a ‘singular’ conception identical in time and space. It varies depending on the social strata. Its disjoined character comes from the fact that it ‘matches’ ‘the character of multitude’. Since every stratum has a common sense that relates to specific class, social, and geographic logics, common sense as a ‘whole’ must be disjoined and fragmented, because the way of living of different strata is different and in contradiction with the others. The fact that common sense is often described as ‘the folklore’ of philosophy has never caught much attention. I believe that this relationship is fundamental if we want to grasp Gramsci’s terminology: Every social stratum has its own ‘common sense’ which is ultimately the most widespread conception of life and morals. Every philosophical current leaves a sedimentation of ‘common sense: this is a document of its historical reality. Common sense is not something rigid and static; rather it changes continuously, enriched by scientific notions and philosophical opinions which have entered common usage. ‘Common sense’ is the folklore of ‘philosophy’ and stands midway between real ‘folklore’ (that is, as it is understood) and the philosophy, science, the economics of the scholars. ‘Common sense’ creates the folklore of the future, that is a more or less rigidified phase of a certain time and place.49 This passage supports the interpretation of common sense simply as widespread beliefs, values, and conceptions. Throughout history, different philosophical currents might leave ‘sediments’ of their own conceptions within common sense. It thus evolves, as new notions become part of it. Common sense is also the ‘folklore of philosophy’ that creates ‘the folklore of the future’. I believe this means that common sense represents the way in which the masses acquire beliefs which belong to ‘higher forms of thought’ at any given time. However, since common sense often relates to specific provincial logics, these ‘higher’ philosophical currents should be understood in relation them, thus creating peculiar combinations. Such ideas then become the ‘folklore of the future’ because, by becoming part of common sense, they ‘crystalize’ within people’s social consciousness. These beliefs might be held even once they are ‘historically outdated’ (e.g., because of some scientific discovery), becoming thus folkloristic/anachronistic. In other words, folklore presupposes common sense because for a belief to become folklore it must first become part of common sense. However, the two are not the same thing.

48 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 333. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1045. 49 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 173. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 76.

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Implicit in the above interpretation is that common sense is disjoined and incoherent only if we compare different examples coming from different locations. Some forms of common sense can be disjoined and incoherent insofar as they are folkloristic. In fact, what other commentators have taken to be a definition of common sense is in other passages employed by Gramsci to conceptualise folklore. For example, Gramsci argues that folklore ‘ought to be studied as a “conception of the world” of particular social strata which are untouched by modern currents of thought. This conception of the world is not elaborated and systematised because the people, by definition, cannot do such a thing; and it is also multifarious, in the sense that it is a mechanical juxtaposition of various conceptions of the world and of life that have followed one another throughout history’.50 Folklore is here defined as a ‘mechanical way’ of mixing beliefs, making it less coherent than ‘systematic philosophies’. It is also described as something ‘competing’ and ‘clashing’ with more systematic conceptions propagated ‘from above’.51 Furthermore, when Gramsci talks of passive/mechanical absorption he mentions examples of how provincial conceptions of the world might originate from ‘the parish’, the ‘old patriarch whose “wisdom” dictates the law’ or ‘the little woman who has the wisdom of witches’.52 These examples suggest a definition of folklore as a form of provincial culture elaborated through mechanical juxtaposition of past and new conceptions, viewed from the perspective of one’s practical/conceptual engagement with one’s environment. Gramsci argues that various past and present currents of thoughts are grasped by people in a ‘vulgarized’ and disjointed fashion, and then arranged to fit their provincial perception of reality: ‘Even modern thought and science furnish elements to folklore, in that certain scientific statements and certain opinions, torn from their context, fall into the popular domain and are “arranged” within the mosaic of tradition’.53 Therefore, folklore represents both those beliefs and superstitions which people have come to believe over time, and also the way in which these people ‘misinterpret’ and ‘rearrange’ new currents of thought by mechanically connecting them to those older beliefs. Because of this ‘folklore can be understood only as a reflection of the conditions of the people, although folklore frequently persists even after those conditions have been modified in bizarre combinations’.54 Thus, folklore expresses the way of living of the masses, the forming of their culture, and their disconnection from ‘higher forms of thought’. Therefore, we can understand folklore as a quality of belief (that of being anachronistic, provincial, and superstitious), a process of absorption (which is mechanical/passive) and as the distortion that results from this process. A belief can be said to be folkloristic 50 51 52 53 54

Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 186. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 89. Ibid., p. 187. Ibid., p. 90. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1376. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.1, p. 187. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 89. Ibid.

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insofar as it is anachronistic and/or represents a distortion resulting from a misunderstanding of a given scientific/philosophical discovery. Now that we have defined folklore, we can define common sense (in line with everyday language) as a set of conceptions, beliefs, attitudes, practical behaviours, etc., which are common within a given environment. This straightforward definition of common sense is supported by Gramsci’s argument that ‘every philosophy tends to become the common sense of an environment even if a restricted one – of all intellectuals’.55 This shows that Gramsci did not necessarily think of common sense as disjoined and incoherent. This definition is further supported by Gramsci’s remarks concerning ‘good sense’: ‘common sense employs the principle of causality’ and that ‘in a series of judgments common sense identifies the right cause, simple and at hand, it does not let itself deviate by metaphysical fancies and abstruseness, pseudoprofound, pseudo-scientific etc’.56 A positive feature of common sense is represented by the fact that common-sensical beliefs often make the right causal connections while refusing to get dragged into fantastical speculations. Good sense should therefore be understood as the critical element within common sense. Another passage implying a similar definition can be found within Gramsci’s discussion of Manzoni.57 While common/good sense can be useful concepts whenever one analyses the common beliefs/practices of groups and their critical attitude towards other ideas/practices, folklore is valuable when discussing the more unpredictable element within the masses’ common sense. Furthermore, folklore often represents a form of spontaneous resistance against the educational efforts of intellectuals. Although folklore is difficult to study due to its provincial characteristics, I believe its importance cannot be underestimated when evaluating struggles for hegemony. Let us now discuss ideology and philosophy.

Ideology and philosophy Although the relationship between ideology and philosophy has not gained much attention among commentators, the former has been interpreted in different ways. Gramsci’s use of ideology is generally read by commentators as implying a value-free/neutral conception. For example, Larrain claims that for Gramsci ideology is a specific ‘system of ideas’, or ‘a conception of the world’. (…) But ideology is more than a conception of the world or a system of ideas; it also has to do with a capacity to inspire concrete attitudes and give certain orientations for action. (…). Hence ideology is conceived as the unity between a world-view and its corresponding rules of conduct.58 55 56 57 58

Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2 pp. 1382–1383. Ibid., p. 1334. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3 pp. 244–245. Ibid., p. 949. Ibid., p. 80.

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Another popular interpretation of Gramsci’s notion of ideology is proposed by Hall, who argues that the problem of ideology concerns the ways in which ideas of different kinds grip the minds of masses, and thereby become a ‘material force’. (…) The theory of ideology helps us to analyse how a particular set of ideas comes to dominate the social thinking of a historical bloc (…) and, thus, helps to unite such a bloc from the inside, and maintain its dominance and leadership over society as a whole.59 Let us now look at some passages from the Notebooks: It is forgotten that Marx’s thesis – that men become conscious of fundamental conflicts on the terrain of ideology – has organic value, it is an epistemological rather than a psychological and moral thesis. This forgetting results in a frame of mind that looks on politics and all history as a marché de dupes, a matter of conjuring tricks, provoking scandals, and prying into the private affairs of political figures.60 Gramsci’s remarks are in the context of his criticism of ‘historical economism’. This erroneous interpretation of Marx implies that ideologies are not real. Everything is determined by the economic interests of powerful capitalists. Political struggles are then reduced to cheats and tricks designed to dupe individuals. This is what we might call the conspiracy mentality, where everything happens because someone has planned it and profits from it. We also see that Gramsci is talking about the passage from the ‘1859 Preface’ we discussed earlier (pp. 114–115.) and paying attention to what Marx says about individuals ‘becoming aware of the conflicts’. Gramsci argues that this claim has epistemic and organic value. I believe this means that the struggle of ideologies represents a clash of different worldviews. However, this is also a ‘terrain’, so Gramsci wants to remind us of the underlying material reality of ideology and its being an organic part of history (an integral and necessary element within historical development). Gramsci’s concern with this ‘terrain’ will be further elaborated in the next section. The next passage we will discuss contains the terms used by Hall earlier. Gramsci stresses again the reality of ideology and its material base: Marx stated that a popular conviction often has as much energy as a material force, or something similar, and it is very important. The analysis of those statements, in my view, lends support to the concept of ‘historic bloc’ in which in fact the material force are the content and ideologies the form. This distinction between form and content is just 59 Hall, S. (1996) p. 26. 60 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 186. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 463.

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Ideologies are so real that they have as much energy as the material forces within the economy. The idea of the historic bloc is here used to emphasise the unity between ideology and underlying class interests. Classes come together and pursue their common interests through ideology. Hence, the historic bloc should be understood as the effort of ‘leading groups’ to create unity between the economic demands of different strata and a broader political perspective. As previously stated, I believe that although Gramsci never defines ideology, its characteristics can be conceptualised by analysing the passages where he contraposes it to philosophy. In this context, philosophy seems to refer to systematic philosophies or philosophical systems. Everyone is a philosopher. However, this is not the case within the social division of labour. As we have seen earlier (p. 164) philosophers represent the highest level of intellectuals insofar as they ‘create’ new ideas. Philosophical activity is for most part theoretical, and the capacity for systematisation stems from philosophers’ structural position. Therefore, while the philosophy of the masses is bred by practical activity, systematic philosophies are the result of specialised mental labour. The first passage we will discuss concerns the distinction between the philosophy of praxis62 and other systems: All hitherto-existing philosophy has been the product and the expression of the inner contradictions of society. But no philosophical system, taken separately, is the conscious expression of those contradictions, since this expression can only be provided by the ensemble of philosophical systems. Every philosopher is, and cannot but be, convinced that he expresses the unity of human spirit, that is the unity of history and nature. Otherwise, men would not act, they would not create history; in other words, philosophies could not become ‘ideologies’, they could not, in practice, acquire the fanatical granite solidity of ‘popular beliefs’, which have the equivalence of ‘material forces’.63 Every philosophical system could be considered as an implicit expression of specific contradictions and conflicts. Throughout history, philosophers have looked at the world and speculated over the most diverse issues. However, each philosopher has looked at reality from the perspective of a given class, a given time in history and a given geographical/social reality. They were unaware of how their circumstances affected their perception of reality and 61 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 172. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 868. 62 That is the name Gramsci gives to Marx’s historical materialism. 63 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, pp.194–195. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 463.

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how their thought expressed social contradictions. They were nevertheless convinced that their conceptions were true and universally valid. This seems for Gramsci a quality of systematic philosophies in general. Due to their universalising character, systematic philosophies can (in principle) be shared by wider social strata and by doing so become ‘ideologies’. This suggests that ideologies are philosophies that become widespread among people and give rise to political action. However, this can lead to a ‘vulgarization’ of the original philosophy. Indeed, ‘even historical materialism tends to become an ideology in the pejorative sense: that is, an absolute and eternal truth’.64 Once historical materialism becomes widespread, it also risks being vulgarised and misunderstood. It might be conceived as an ‘eternal truth’ and turned into a dogma. Gramsci’s deep concern with vulgarisations of Marx’s theory should appear clear. This passage also contains another ‘negative’ conception of ideology in terms of ‘dogmatic beliefs’. I believe that this should not be understood as a necessary feature of ideology but rather as the tendency which all beliefs held by large numbers of individuals have to become dogmatic.65 According to Gramsci, this tendency should be fought through critical thinking, as a belief is more likely to become dogmatic when it is passively accepted (while ‘active thinking’ entails a constant assessment of one’s own beliefs). Some features of Gramsci’s understanding of the base/superstructure dichotomy can also be found here. Ideology is superstructure in the sense that it is created on the grounds of concrete and historical economic practice, and as such, ideologies are tied to specific economic and social circumstances. Thus, Marx wants to show us that although ideologies seek to appear ‘universal’ and ‘rational’, due to their practical/circumstantial character, their value is only ‘provisional’. Although Gramsci’s distinction between philosophy and ideology seems straightforward (ideologies are widespread philosophies leading to political action), the following passage demonstrates that this difference is less ‘clearcut’ than we might think: how is it possible to distinguish ideologies (…) from philosophy? The distinction will be possible, but only in terms of degrees (quantitative) and not qualitatively. The ideologies, instead, will be the ‘true’ philosophy, because they will result as being those philosophical ‘vulgarizations’ 64 Ibid., p. 189, Ibid., p. 466. 65 Because of this, we might say that beliefs held within a social stratum might appear to the individual encountering them as objective thought forms. Their objectivity appears to follow from the fact that everyone within the stratum holds those beliefs. As Gramsci puts it, ‘the man of the people thinks that so many cannot be wrong’. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1391. Thus, although those forms might not be practically necessary in an economic sense, they appear as universally valid, and thus necessary for the individual to relate to his social environment. This seems to me valid in relation to common sense, as well as ideology (as we will shortly define it pp. 178–179).

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Although it is not clear what Gramsci means by ‘quantitative’, the difference between ideology and philosophy relates to their different ‘degrees’ of abstraction. Philosophy deals with abstract issues that reoccur throughout history (although always within the framework of the specific historical period in which the philosopher lives). In contrast, ideologies focus on immediate political practice. This distinction is also supported by other notes. For example, Gramsci defines ideology as: ‘an intermediate phase between general theory and immediate practice or politics’.67 Similarly, he argues that: Philosophy is a conception of the world which represents the intellectual and moral life (catharsis of a determinate practical life) of an entire social group conceived in movement and thus seen not only in its actual and immediate interests, but also in its future and mediated interests; ideology is any particular conception of the world of the internal groups of the class that proposes to help in the resolution of immediate and circumscribed problems.68 Thomas (one of the few authors who discusses the distinction) claims that philosophy (…) is a conception of the world which tends to raise the level of awareness of historical determination and to increase the capacity to act of an entire social class; ideology (…) is conceived as corresponding to the perceived interests of a class fraction, directed to the resolution of immediate problems.69 Unfortunately, Thomas’ account is vague and contradicts what Gramsci states. As we have seen, philosophies are actually characterised by being ‘ahistorical’ due to their abstract and theoretical nature.70 Furthermore, the idea that a systematic philosophy ‘increases the capacity to act of an entire class’ contradicts what Gramsci states. Philosophies only do this by 66 67 68 69 70

Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, pp. 1241–1242. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 155. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 435. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1231. Thomas, A. (2009) p. 280. Gramsci’s discussion of traditional intellectuals (p. 164) seeks to demonstrate the underlying historic, economic, and practical reasons behind the a-historic character of systematic thinkers. Due to their position and intellectual interests they conceive of themselves as belonging to ‘the continuation of an uninterrupted history that places it above the struggle of groups’. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 332, Gramsci, A. (2014) vol. 2, p. 1043.

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becoming ideologies. Once philosophies become widespread and lead to action, they are automatically transformed into ideologies. In my opinion, philosophy is here described as a theoretical framework. Because of its abstract and ‘universal’ nature, philosophy is not concerned with the immediate interests of a given social group, even though those interests might be hidden under its assumptions. However, the distinction between the two is not clear cut. We should not think that once a philosophy ‘becomes’ ideology it ceases to be a philosophy. Philosophies are still a necessary component of ideologies: ‘widespread mass ideology, must be distinguished from the scientific works, from the great philosophical syntheses which are then the real keystones.’71 Philosophies represent the ‘keystone’ of widespread ideologies. A philosophy is implicit in every ideology. Ideologies are thus ‘translations’ of philosophical assumptions into concrete political practice. Indeed, no ‘concrete’ ideology can exist without underlying assumptions, abstractions, and value-systems. A similar distinction is made when Gramsci discusses philosophies that become a ‘cultural movement, a “religion”, a “faith”’ and produce “a practical activity and a will”’. He argues that within these practical ideologies, the philosophy from which they derive remains as an ‘implicit theoretical “premise”’.72 For example, ‘there was a party that reduced Hegel’s philosophy to an unmediated “political ideology,” an instrument of domination and social hegemony – this was “liberalism” or the liberal party in the broad sense’.73 One might think of the relationship between Marx’s theory and Lenin’s political practice. Lenin was inspired by Marx’s historical materialism and translated this philosophy into political practice, transforming it into an ideology based on the same assumptions and premises. A similar example could be made by reference to Margaret Thatcher and the works of Hayek and Friedman. As we have seen, Gramsci uses the term ideology in different ways. Its only definition is presented when he distinguishes it from philosophy. However, there are some problems implicit in Gramsci’s discussion of the two concepts and their political significance. For example, Gramsci argues that ‘everything is political, even philosophy or philosophies’.74 He also seems to equate politics with history and life75 : ‘in every conception of the world, every contemplation, philosophies become “real” because they tend to modify the world, to overturn the practice’.76 Unfortunately, Gramsci never develops those points, which makes his broad understanding of politics obscure. Furthermore, this conception of politics seems too broad and almost vacuous. To say that politics is the same 71 72 73 74 75

Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 177. Ibid., p. 875. Ibid., p. 1380. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 299. Ibid., p. 1007. Ibid., p. 187. Ibid., p. 886. See Ibid., p. 271. Ibid., p. 977 and Gramsci, A. (2011) p. 32. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 310. 76 Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1266.

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as life and history begs the question: what is the difference between the two? I believe that Gramsci is correct (and consistent) in claiming that every philosophy is ‘real’ insofar as a person’s understanding of the world will in turn determine her behaviour and practical activity. However, this cannot mean that this practical activity is necessarily political. For example, I speculate that my acne is caused by my chocolate intake. I then decide to stop eating chocolate to avoid acne. My thinking determines my conduct. This applies to every action based on deliberation. So, in order to make sense of what Gramsci says, we must interpret his words in relation to political philosophies and not philosophies in general. The same goes for the transformation from philosophy to ideology. If we think that ideology is simply the ‘widespread adoption’ of a philosophy that leads to practical action, then we have something so broad it would include things such as hooligans’ brawls and flash mobs. So again, we need to understand what we have been discussing so far in relation to thoughts, values, and practices that are inherently political. I understand that at this point our reader might be perplexed because although we keep talking about ‘political’ ideas, we are yet to explain what they are. Our reader should not however worry, as the key elements that make an idea ‘political’ will be explained in depth in the next section, where we will start explaining our own interpretation of the ideological terrain.

The general ideological terrain The concept of ideological terrain often appears within Gramsci’s Notebooks and is presented as an elaboration of Marx’s ‘1859 Preface’. However, as the following passage shows, Gramsci has doubts over what the terrain should include: The question of the ‘objectivity’ of knowledge according to the philosophy of praxis can be elaborated starting from the proposition (contained in the preface to the Critique of Political Economy) that ‘men become conscious (of the conflict between the material forces of production) in the ideological terrain’ of juridical, political, religious, artistic, philosophical forms. But is this consciousness limited to the conflict between the material forces of production and the relations of production – according to the literal meaning of the text – or does it refer to every area of knowledge? This is the point that must be elaborated with the whole ensemble of the philosophical doctrine of superstructures’ value.77 Gramsci is again asserting the reality of ideologies within the superstructure, and this reality seems grounded on the fact that they express forms of knowledge. However, he seems undecided on how to read the passage from the ‘1859 Preface’. Should we only include ideas that address the contradiction 77 Ibid., p. 1492.

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between the relations of production and productive forces? Or also ideas concerning other conflicts and contradictions? Gramsci says that this point should be developed, and since we have faith in his intuitions, this is precisely what we will attempt to do. Although he never explains what the ideological terrain should contain, we have seen that ideology has to do with political action. So, we can say that this terrain must contain practical and normative elements. He also told us that the terrain has to do with knowledge, a claim also explicitly supported by this passage where the terrain is described as a creation of hegemonic apparatuses: ‘The realisation of a hegemonic apparatus, insofar as it creates a new ideological terrain, determines a reform of consciousness and methods of knowledge, it is a fact of knowledge, a philosophical fact’.78 Taking Marx to the letter, Gramsci also suggests that the terrain should (at least) contain those forms of knowledge through which individuals become aware of the contradictions between the relations of production and productive forces (inequality/unemployment under capitalism) and fight it out. Finally, another element of ideology seems to be what Gramsci calls ‘political morality’, a system of common values that helps keep the group together: A permanent association capable of growth cannot exist unless it is buttressed by definite ethical principles that the association itself sets down for its individual constituents in order to maintain the internal unity and homogeneity needed to reach its goal’79 Now that we have collected our clues, let us try to construct this terrain. We begin by establishing what we might call the general ideological terrain. This concept serves to express the features thoughts/beliefs/narratives/writings etc., might80 have if they are to be included in the terrain. If we start considering the terrain as having to do with knowledge and ‘political morality’, then we can argue that it must contain explanations and evaluations. So, what is to be explained and evaluated? First, the central contradictions of capitalism (unemployment/inequality) and the underlying class struggle. We also believe that forms of knowledge that explain, and (implicitly or explicitly) evaluate other social problems and conflicts should be included in our terrain. The reader might remember a passage I quoted from McCarney (pp. 116–117) where he connects ideologies and classes through evaluation. He argues that ideologies embody an assessment or grading of, evince a pro or contra attitude towards, states of affairs and human activities; towards, that is, particular 78 Ibid., p. 1250. 79 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 63. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 750. 80 Thoughts, speech, narratives and writing that express any of the following three features will be classed as being part of the terrain and as ideology/political/ superstructure, regardless of whether they also express any of the other two features.

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We believe McCarney is correct, so we will include explanations and evaluations of patterns of social arrangements, states of affairs and also add social structures. From this we can conclude that something can be considered ideological/ideology insofar as it explains and evaluates contradictions, conflicts and widespread social problems but also patterns of social arrangements and social structures. By addressing social phenomena, our explanations/evaluations become part of the general terrain. The reason for relating explanation and evaluation when defining this first feature is that these are interrelated activities which often imply each other. For example, one could explain drug abuse in a given town by saying that it comes from underlying social structures (sociological explanation), or by blaming the government that secretly distributes drugs to keep the people down (conspiracy explanation), or by the attitudes and beliefs of individuals living in the town (individualistic explanation) or the natural qualities of the people as a group (xenophobic explanation). Each explanation presents an underlying cause that is inherently evaluated by the explanation itself. The sociological explanation might evaluate certain features of underlying structures as negative because they contribute to drug abuse (e.g., unemployment). The conspiracy sees the government as the cause and consequentially as an evil entity. For the individualists what is bad is the bad attitudes of individuals; for the xenophobic the whole group is bad, if not evil. This explanatory/evaluative aspect is the first feature of the terrain. To use more everyday language, we might call this the social commentary. The second feature a thought, speech or image might need for it to be included in our general terrain is that it must express a vision of a better world. This vision is what inspires individuals to action, which brings us to the third feature of our terrain, what we might call the method to change the world from how it is, to how it should be in accordance with our vision. Note that while anyone can imagine a better world (where we all hug and say nice things to each other) while not necessarily imagining how this could be turned into reality, any plan to practically alter social reality presupposes a vision of how society (or at least some aspects of it) should be. So, while my vision of a cuddly world is mere fantasy without a practical project to make it reality, practice is impossible without an aim or vision. We might call the last two features the normative and the practical aspects of the general ideological terrain: the vision and the means. We can thus conclude that our general ideological terrain contains any thoughts, narratives, writings, images, etc. that: 1. explain and evaluate social structures/phenomena, widespread social problems, central class contradictions and conflicts, salient events, etc. 2. propose a vision of how society should be. 3. 81 McCarney, J. (1980) pp. 80–81.

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propose the practical means through which society can be changed from 1. to 2. So, although a specific individual/group might not present an ideology containing all three elements of our terrain, they nevertheless contribute (if only marginally) to political struggle insofar as they participate in the creation of the same kind of knowledge. Nevertheless, collective action needs more than just participation in some aspects of intellectual and political struggle. This leads us to the definition of ideology as an instrument of political action. Ideologies in this sense might be called comprehensive ideologies and defined as those expressing all three of our features. This is necessary if they are to lead to political and collective action. As we will see in the next section, comprehensive ideologies determine states’ behaviours.

Comprehensive ideologies, superstructure, and hegemony Now that we have defined the three characteristics of ideology, we can discuss why it should be considered as a key element within both the superstructure and hegemony. We have argued that the state is a superstructure because it produces the laws that are necessary to sustain the economic base, while also being dependent on the surplus produced by the latter (that is the sense in which the superstructure ‘stands on the base’). As we said, there is a relationship of mutual dependence between the two. Comprehensive ideologies are then superstructure insofar as operating the state presupposes a macro-social theory explaining society, diagnosing its problems, and proposing solutions. In other words, if I propose rules which apply to the entirety of society, then I must have some understanding of how this society functions, a vision to improve it, and the practical means to bring this future about (something the state does by creating laws and policies). Comprehensive ideologies are practically necessary for operating the state machine. To speak of the state without considering ideology is to exclude the ideas directing the actions of political actors (and by doing so mutilate our analysis). Thus, if the state is the superstructural apparatus, ideology is its corresponding practical knowledge. The two must be analysed together. Indeed, this follows from the fifth proposition of our theory of formation of ideas: The division of labour makes the cognitive engagement with certain objects, practices and ideas necessary for individuals due to their position. It is necessary for political actors to cognitively engage with all three features of ideology insofar as their structural position makes this imperative. Can one make laws without having some ideas (whether correct or illusory is irrelevant) of how society functions, a vision of the future and a practical plan for action? The state is a meta-structure creating the rules which regulate the entirety of the social order. Such rules must be obeyed by everyone within the state’s sovereign power. This implies that a general or ‘macro’ ‘sociological’ understanding of how humans behave, what drives their actions, what causes x social problems, and so on, is necessary. Whether this understanding is correct or based on evidence is irrelevant. While its truth would be beneficial (as it

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would make the solution to whatever social problem the law seeks to address more likely), only its existence in the minds of lawmakers is necessary. Having now established why ideology should be part of the superstructure, we will discuss its relationship to hegemony. Earlier we discussed its two faces (domination and leadership) within the economic base, now we can finally begin to explain what we might call ‘hegemony within the superstructure’ (or political hegemony). Domination is in this case straightforward: the state imposes rules for everyone to respect, educates us (school), supervises us (police), and punishes us (juridical system). Superstructural (political) leadership is, on the other hand, achieved through the spreading of ideology. By spreading their comprehensive ideologies, classes and social groups attempt to persuade people to follow their plans. This is necessary not only to achieve state power (in the case of competing political parties) but also to organise collective action in general. This takes us to our next concern, which is to consider the material and practical basis of these ideological forms. Let us turn to the concrete terrain.

Hegemonic apparatuses and concrete ideological terrains Although we might all contribute to the general ideological terrain just by speculating about how society works, concretely, we are not affecting or changing anything unless we do something. This acting might take forms such as speech, writings, or practical action (e.g., an inspirational march). To become reality, our plans must have adherents. So, our first step is externalise those ideas whether in theoretical or practical form. This could then lead to the formation of a terrain advocating certain views. This terrain should be evaluated as a force82 made by the mental and physical capacities of the individuals involved, plus the means through which their ideas are propagated and (if possible) realised. It is indeed a force because once individuals come together to act and attempt to change social reality from how it is, to how it should be in their minds, their conviction and passion give their beliefs solidity. Their faith in their ideas strengthen their unity as a group. They are a force to be reckoned with. It is a terrain in the sense that it presents itself as a set of people holding common world views that are expressed through certain means (writing, speeches, videos), so this creates a whole world through which social reality is conceived. However, the possession of the means for the realisation of a project and the means used to disseminate views supporting this project, are important because they determine the sort of strategy the political group will employ to achieve its ends, and the likelihood of those ends being achieved in practice.

82 This is our interpretation of Marx’s claim that ideology becomes material force, which we will develop through our analysis of political parties, for an ideology must be comprehensive to become a force.

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We want to say that the media and press are hegemonic apparatuses insofar as they produce and disseminate (whether for free or in exchange for money) a vast amount of material (writing, radio, videos, etc.) that is (whether explicitly or implicitly) ideological. As such, they contribute to strengthening the social influence of dominant classes over subordinate classes. That is to say that they persuade groups to see the social world from a certain perspective. Apparatuses might also have different degrees of structural authority (credibility) depending on their prestige. In our view, quantitatively and qualitatively (because of the means of propagation and experience/skills) and structurally (because of the authority) those apparatuses can be said to dominate other social groups on an intellectual and political level. They might dominate within the struggle for leadership because the social commentary offered by the apparatuses (which tends to support the views of established politicians) has a greater power to reach people and greater credibility. However, I believe that this should be understood as domination within the struggle for leadership, because ultimately the media cannot influence me if I turn the television off. Our intellectuals might have structural authority, but nobody forces me to listen to what they say. They have no concrete authority over me, and cannot punish me if I do not listen. So, my being dominated by narratives proposed by the media presupposes an interest in what the media portray, and a subsequent conceptual involvement with the struggles over belief that politics represents to me. This is why I believe that the media should be seen as part of the hegemonic apparatuses for political/superstructural leadership (rather than domination). The explanations and evaluations the media propose are important because they create a very strong (materially and intellectually) terrain that should (in principle) be able to persuade people to support certain features of social reality instead of others, and/or particular political figures/ parties/groups instead of others. A further apparatus that should at this point be considered as hegemonic is higher education. Universities are apparatuses through which systematic conceptions are elaborated and spread. We want to say that the features necessary to be part of our terrain are often expressed within the humanities, especially the fields of sociology, politics, and economics (due to their inevitable encounter with politically salient social structures and problems). However, according to our terrain, images and works of art could also (in principle) be ideological in the sense that they depict visions of the world and plans for change, or explain salient features of reality (e.g., inequalities). However, again, we are not saying that universities are hegemonic apparatuses in general, only insofar as they contribute to the intellectual/political struggle within the ideological general terrain, and create concrete terrains of speeches, lectures, writings, videos, images, art, etc. At this point we take the opportunity to come back to our systematic philosophers and discuss what we might now call political philosophies. For a particular philosophical construction to be political, it must address at least one of the three features of our general terrain. However, it will do so in an

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abstract manner, and create general law-like propositions that can explain different empirical occurrences of the same social phenomena.83 So, if I create a system that connects certain types of problematic social structures (e.g., corruption) in the world, with let us say, certain features in public policy, then I see the problem of corruption as a general and abstract one. It is my intention to create an explanation that can apply to all cases of corruption. This is different from ideology, which addresses one of the three features of our terrain but does so in the individual and specific cases. Nevertheless, political philosophy becomes ideology if these principles are applied to explain the individual, empirical case. In other words, a political philosophy is a system of assumptions through which ideologies are created. In our earlier (p.) examples, the framework of explanation (sociological, conspiracy, individualist, xenophobic) was political philosophy and the narrative (or social commentary) constructed to explain the specific case of our selected drug abused town, was ideology. Indeed, while ‘proper’ political philosophies (e.g., Aristotle’s, Marx’s, Bentham’s works, etc.) are purposely designed to explain social reality in an abstract/universal manner, any set of assumptions can (in principle) become a political philosophy if it is employed to explain social phenomena. For example, while the conspiracy mentality is not (by itself) necessarily political, it might be employed as a political philosophy to explain virtually any social problem we encounter. The same goes for religion,84 conceptions of human nature, scientific laws, etc. Frameworks employed to explain and evaluate social phenomena become political philosophies as soon as they are applied to explain said phenomena. If they explain it in an abstract, general manner (e.g., poverty as such) they are doing so philosophically. If they explain a specific case (e.g., poverty in x country) they produce ideologies.

Political parties and comprehensive ideologies Gramsci argues that: ‘Classes give voice to parties, and the parties produce statesmen and government officials, the leaders of civil society and political society. (…) Leaders cannot be formed in the absence of theoretical, doctrinal activity by the parties’.85 Political parties are essential for the creation of leadership. Their strength lies in the practical skills of politicians (they know the 83 Remember that traditional intellectuals are part of a long historic tradition that has tried to create systems to explain the recurrence of the same phenomena under different circumstances. 84 Indeed, Gramsci conceives religion as the ‘most widespread and deeply rooted ideology’. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 189. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 466. In the past, its political role was akin to that of modern ‘secular ideologies’: ‘In the political conception of the Renaissance, religion was consent, and the church was civil society, the hegemonic apparatus of the ruling group that did not have an apparatus of its own’. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 74. Gramsci, A. (2014), vol.2, p. 763. 85 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 106. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 387.

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intricacies of the state’s bureaucracy) and the sophistication of their comprehensive ideologies, as well as the means they possess to spread their views (that often include supportive media or academics). Furthermore, they often have ties with economic classes and their interests. However, those ideologies cannot be reduced to some sort of ‘mask’ for material interests. As Gramsci warns us: If it is true that parties are nothing other than the nomenclature of the classes, it is also true that the parties are not merely mechanical and passive expressions of the classes themselves, but also react energetically with the classes to develop them, solidify them and universalize them.86 This point is further elaborated by Gramsci when he explains that ‘a businessman does not join a political party in order to do business, (…) even though some aspects of those needs of the business (…) may be satisfied in the party’. Instead, ‘in the political party, elements of an economic social group go beyond this moment of their historical development and become agents of general activities that are national and international in character’.87 Political parties must consider the material interests of the groups they represent. However, parties do something broader: they create ideologies that have universal character, and this is necessary if they are to gain the support necessary to achieve state power. A political party thereby presents itself as an aristocracy, an elite, a vanguard; in other words it sees itself linked by a million threads to a given social grouping and through that to the whole of humanity. Consequentially, this association does not set itself up as a definitive and rigid entity but as something that aims to extend itself to a whole social grouping that is itself conceived as aiming to unify all humanity. All those relationships give a [tendentially] universal character to the group ethic that must be considered capable of becoming a norm of conduct for humanity as a whole.88 Indeed, Gramsci talks of parties as ‘historic experimenters’89 with ideologies. They propose social commentaries, visions of the world, and practical means to solve the problems affecting different social strata. Party members are also considered as ‘special kinds’ of intellectuals that secure ‘the bonding of the organic intellectuals of a social group with traditional intellectuals’. This ‘bonding function’ has the purpose of ‘lifting’ the ‘economic members of a social group to the level of “political intellectuals”, that is, organizers of all 86 87 88 89

Ibid., p. 105, Ibid., p. 386. Ibid., p. 203. Ibid., p. 478. Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 63. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 750. Ibid., p. 1387.

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functions intrinsic to the organic development of an integral civil and political society’.90 This passage suggests that political parties represent the main means through which a historic bloc of social groups/classes can be formed under one comprehensive ideology expressing their understanding of the world, their vision for the future, and the practical means to achieve this vision. The connections parties have with organic intellectuals within the base (managers, supervisors, entrepreneurs, etc.), traditional intellectuals within the superstructure (academics, writers, etc.) and intellectuals operating in the field of states bureaucracy, make parties extremely powerful and influential entities. Overall, we can say that parties’ strengths lie in:     

Their sophisticated, comprehensive, and universalising ideologies. The means they possess to create strong concrete terrains. The skills they possess to create practical plans that can be carried out through government action. Their ties with fundamental economic classes and traditional/organic intellectuals within both civil and political society. Politicians’ possession of the structural authority of intellectuals concerned with the national/general interest.

Our parties are indeed powerful and influential. Does this mean that the masses have no option but to support their views and practical programmes for the future? To answer this question, we will come back to Marx’s remarks concerning ruling classes and ruling ideas.

Ruling classes and ruling ideas? We previously discussed Marx’s claims concerning ruling classes and ruling ideas. Classes that rule economically also possess the means to propagate their views. Furthermore, dominant classes always portray their own interests as universal. From this Marx concludes that the ideas of subordinated groups are ‘subjected’ to the conceptions of their rulers. As we have seen, the translation of groups’ interests into ‘universal form’ is also acknowledged by Gramsci as a characteristic comprehensive ideologies must acquire to be believed and supported, and ultimately lead the group/party preaching them to state power. Both Marx and Gramsci seem to argue that ruling classes can portray the interests their comprehensive ideologies express as universal because their power is disguised by the state’s own appearance as an entity concerned with the ‘general interests of society’ (that is the national interest). Gramsci’s analysis then further elaborates the role of the political party in trying to create cultural, moral, and political homogeneity. However, by itself, this is not enough to justify the claim that subordinate groups must necessarily be subjected to dominant comprehensive ideologies. 90 Ibid., p. 202. Ibid., p. 477.

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Nevertheless, since we have already argued that the consent for the socioeconomic order is already created by its own existence and necessity, we do not need to claim that subordinate groups must believe what their rulers say. In fact, our idea of folklore, as a form of spontaneous resistance against intellectuals’ efforts to educate, show that we are attempting to create a more nuanced view of this dominant/subordinate relationship. So, although we argue that subordinate classes must conform to certain rules and forms of behaviour due to necessity, there is nothing that prevents them from rejecting the conceptions and narratives or even the whole structural authority of intellectuals. Gramsci himself was aware of this: Why are men restless? Where does this restlessness come from? (…) We can say that this restlessness is caused by the fact that there is no identity between theory and practice (…) This contrast between what is done and what is said produces restlessness, that is discontent, dissatisfaction.91 In this passage he recognises the ‘good sense’ of the masses, that can see through comprehensive ideologies’ pretensions of universality. They can see that those promises do not correspond to concrete action. And a person has no need for extensive knowledge of policy to comprehend this; the deterioration of economic and cultural life expresses this without any doubt. That is why folkloristic beliefs (such as the World Order conspiracy) might provide compelling explanations for this social crisis. Although subordinated classes might reject the ideology of the parties and create their own comprehensive ideologies leading to political action (e.g., grass-roots movements), a part of this subordinate class is persuaded by politicians and their projects. Since this part (whatever its size) exists, we must attempt to explain what makes this support possible. Our answer comes from Gramsci again: One social group that has its own conception of the world, even if it is embryonic, manifests this conception in action; (…) for reasons of intellectual submission and subordination it borrows a conception from another group and affirms this in words.92 Although every person is a philosopher, the intellectual means individuals have to create sophisticated theories that explain the social world largely depend on 1) their position within the social division of labour and 2) the time they have to train this capacity. One must then consider the fact that ideologies address highly complex social phenomena that academics themselves cannot truly understand. The social commentary parties and apparatuses 91 Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.3, p. 1717. 92 Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1379.

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create and distribute is highly complex and portrays things individuals cannot directly experience; in a sense the apparatuses create a world that although real, is filtered through them, so we can only experience ‘social reality’ as a totality, through the apparatuses. The apparatuses can do this because they have the intellectual preparation to approach those matters, as well as the means to directly experience (e.g., reporters) and distribute imagery and commentaries of salient social events. So, although one might not support a party, one’s understanding of the world might still be influenced by ways of thinking that are one sided towards the support of certain aspects of social reality. Since we have no first order knowledge of most things that are salient within contests for leadership, our opinions must rely on the narratives spread by the media. How can we expect anyone else to do the work academics themselves find difficult to produce? How can people know what causes a given social problem? They cannot, but the apparatuses provide them with an answer. This intellectual subordination to the social commentary distributed by apparatuses is in our opinion a fact that concerns leadership. Individuals are not dominated by those ideas, because they are free to reject them. However, if the individual is interested in knowing certain things, due to the volume of material produced by the apparatuses, he might come across views that implicitly betray a class/group position. So, we can argue that this is domination within leadership, that is the quantitative domination (e.g., more texts exist supporting ideology x than those supporting ideology y) of certain ideologies over others. Furthermore, ideologies can also be dominant (in terms of their content) insofar as they implicitly set the limits of what can be done: Big politics encompasses issues related to the founding of new states and to the struggle for the defense and preservation of a given sociopolitical structure. Minor politics concerns the quotidian, partisan issues that arise within an already established structure in the struggle for the preeminence among various factions of the same political class. Big politics, then, entails the effort to keep big politics itself out of the domain of the life of the state and to reduce everything to minor politics.93 The various factions of the ruling classes, through their parties, seek to create hegemonic blocs of unity between economic classes and certain values, aspirations, and policies they propose in the struggle with one another. However, ‘little politics’ is not just a squabble. It is a conscious effort to keep political discourse and struggle within the limits of the underlying economic structure, that is within the limits of the capital/labour relation. Big politics on the other hand, is the effort to change this, and create a whole new state or society. It could be equated with radical politics, that is politics aiming at the total reconstruction of the socio-economic order. However, the twist is that this 93 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 264. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 970.

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effort to keep politics within those limits is secretly a type of big politics (this should not lead our reader to the conspiracy mentality, however, as most politicians do, nevertheless, believe what they preach). From this we can conclude that, although the specific interests of groups cannot be worked out beforehand, due to the contextuality of the struggle, we can label as dominant ideologies any ideas that limit the terrain of political struggle to levels imposed by the relations of production. In this very broad sense, they serve the interests of the ruling classes. Now that we have discussed all the key elements of our interpretation of Gramsci, we can finally explain the base/superstructure relation.

Base/superstructure/base/superstructure To understand the base/superstructure relation, we must begin by discussing the following passage: the occasional gives rise to political criticism, the permanent gives rise to sociohistorical criticism; the occasional helps assess political groups and personalities, the permanent helps one assess large social groupings. The great importance of this distinction94 becomes clear when a historical period is studied. (…) A frequent error in historical analysis consists in the inability to find the relation between the ‘permanent’ and the ‘occasional’; as a result, remote causes are presented as if they were direct causes, or else direct causes are said to be the only efficient causes. On the one hand there is an excess of ‘economism’, and on the other an excess of ‘ideologism’; one side overrates the mechanical causes, and the other overrates the ‘voluntary’ and individual element.95 The permanent/organic should be understood as the base, while the occasional/conjunctural represents the superstructure. Gramsci describes how the base and the superstructure relate to one another in a dynamic way. From the permanent/organic we get certain tendencies or events which are the result of social contradictions within the realm of production (e.g., inequality). These contradictions and conflicts produce occasional/conjunctural movements. This is the superstructural level on which individuals ‘become conscious of the conflict and fight it out’. This is where social groups, and associated parties struggle against one another for leadership (and ultimately for state power). It is not only important to distinguish the permanent/organic from the occasional/conjunctural, but also to understand their exact relationship 94 This distinction appears again in Notebook XIII § 17 (a later version of the same note) with the difference that the term ‘permanent’ is replaced by ‘movimenti organici’ (organic movements) and the ‘occasional’ is replaced by ‘movimenti di congiuntura’ (conjunctural movements). Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.3, pp. 1579–1580. 95 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, pp. 177–178. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, pp. 455–456.

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within a given situation. In fact, historical events always express an intersection of those two elements, which must be evaluated together. Too much emphasis on the organic/permanent while ignoring the compositions and movements of various political groups leads to an excess of ‘economism’. If one overestimates the importance of ideological battles without assessing their dependence on the organic/permanent, we have an excess of ‘ideologism’. To further explore the base/superstructure dichotomy and its relationship to hegemony, we must now turn to Gramsci’s framework of ‘relations of force’. Here he draws distinctions between ‘various moments or levels’, summarised as follows: 1

2

3 4

The ‘primitive economic moment’ where ‘social groups are formed on the basis of the level of development of the material forces of production, and each one of these groups represents a function and a position within production itself ’.96 From this perspective, we only evaluate the position of individuals within the social division of labour. The ‘common trade’ moment where ‘there is an awareness of the homogeneous unity of the professional group, but there is no such awareness yet of the social group’.97 Here individuals are aware of their belonging to the same trade and sharing the same material interests. The corporatist moment where individuals become aware of their belonging to the same broader class (e.g., capitalists/workers). Hegemonic political leadership where ‘one becomes conscious of the fact that one’s own “corporate” interests (…) go beyond the confines of the economic group – and they can and must become the interests of other subordinate groups. This is the most patently “political” phase (…) in which previously germinated ideologies come into contact and confrontation with one another, until only one of them – or, at least a single combination of them – tends to prevail, to dominate, to spread across the entire field, bringing about, in addition to economic and political unity, intellectual and moral unity, not on a corporate but on a universal level: the hegemony of a fundamental social group over the subordinate groups’.98 To lead, social groups and political parties must not only take into consideration their material interests, but also attempt to form alliances with other groups and subordinate others. To do so, they must necessarily employ an ideology that is more ‘abstract’ and ‘universal’ than the naked expression of their material interests. Only in this way, can ideologies persuade other social groups.

The above distinctions help to spell out the relationship between the economic base and the superstructure by setting up a schema through which we can understand how the former determines the latter. The determination in this case should not be conceived as straightforward causation but as a process 96 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.2, p. 179. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, p. 457. 97 Ibid. 98 Ibid., pp. 179–180. Ibid., pp. 457–458.

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with various stages leading to state action. Upon reaching the last stage, we might say that the state reacts upon the economic base, meaning that while we believe that the economy determines some aspects of the state’s behaviour, the state, in turn, has the power to affect the economy. The ‘primitive economic moment’ presents us with a certain social division of labour and with the various material interests of different groups within it. The ‘common trade’ and corporatist moments highlight how groups (same trade/same class) come together to pursue their common economic interests. While stages two and three might be conceived as already political (as they entail ‘coordinated action’) they are still relegated to the base insofar as they do not entail the persuasion of other groups and the inclusion of values and goals which go beyond the economic realm. As Gramsci puts it: One can say of ‘political passion’ that it is an immediate impulse toward action that is born on the ‘permanent and organic’ terrain of economic life but goes beyond it, bringing into play emotions and aspirations in whose incandescent atmosphere even the calculation of individual human life will follow laws different from those of individual profit, etc.99 The movement from the economic base to the ideological/political realm is ensured by the fourth moment of hegemonic political leadership. The earlier (economic) stages determine this moment by establishing the material needs and grievances of groups, which political parties must address through their comprehensive ideologies. Without addressing the material interests of (at least some) groups, comprehensive ideologies cannot hope to gain support. Thus, the economic base determines ideology insofar as the latter must consider the interests developed within the former in order to succeed. The narratives presented by dominant groups must be able to translate those interests into broader political interests and values, as well as propose a social commentary that speaks to their hearts. Ideology is the means to translate material interests into a broader set of values and political aspirations. Ideology is thus necessary to establish a historic bloc of cohesion from the economic base to a broader superstructural level. We must point out that, while the economic interests of key groups must be taken into account (and this is our understanding of determination), the specific manner in which they are addressed and how they are embedded into a broader ideology is never set in stone.100 The base/superstructure dichotomy serves as an aid to understanding how the material and economic interests of groups influence political actors, leading to different developments within the socio-economic orders (depending on how these interests are embedded into various ideologies and which ideology becomes victorious). We can think of the superstructure as having two phases: 99 Gramsci, A. (2011) vol.3, p. 312. Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.2, p. 1022. 100 The translation of material interests into political interests through ideology will be further discussed in the next chapter (pp. 201–203).

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Gramsci’s Marxism Conceptual reaction and political struggle (corresponding to hegemonic political leadership). The two cannot be separated insofar as the social commentaries presented by political parties are always within the context of struggle against the other parties. Hence, political parties must always address groups’ material interests and pressing social problems, and use their existence for their own political advantage and to discredit their adversaries. State action (corresponding to hegemonic domination). Although we must remember that the political struggle never ends, elections represent a turning point insofar as they allow one of the parties to lead the government and actualise its own ideology101 by implementing policies and laws.

Laws and policies can be considered superstructure insofar as they are part of the ideological terrain (the means). They are conceived and elaborated by individuals, and their actualisation (or non-actualisation) depends on the result of the election. However, once they are employed, they become part of the economic base,102 and affect its future development (and consequentially the future development of new contradictions). While we defined the state as the apparatus creating laws and the base as having to do with the production, distribution and consumption of things, by creating the rules which dictate what can or cannot be done, the superstructure indirectly determines behaviours within the base. Because of this, relevant laws must be analysed in conjunction with the economic actions they regulate. While the two might be distinguished on a theoretical level, practically speaking economic relevant laws are an integral part of x economy’s specific/empirical rules for reproduction.103 This is how I conceive the reaction of the superstructure on the economic base. The base determines material interests, which in turn determine parties’ ideologies, which will determine the sort of laws and policies implemented by the state. Laws and policies actualised by the victorious party will then affect the economic base by altering its specific rules of reproduction as well as the social division of labour (e.g., more investment in one branch of industry improves its rate of employment, while other dying industries are left to decay, leading to further unemployment). By looking at the relationship between base and superstructure in this dynamic and relational way, we can bypass the ‘the problem of legality’,104 by saying that laws are superstructure insofar as their establishment depends on previous political 101 We must, however, remember that the degree to which the party is able to establish its policies and laws varies, often depending on how closely they mirror the orthodoxy of the time. 102 However, only laws and policies that directly affect the base (e.g., commercial law, investment, trade agreements, labour regulations, etc.) have this dual status. 103 While ‘general’ rules for reproduction refers to the more abstract and ‘universal’ relations of surplus accumulation dictated by the capital/labour relationship, by specific/empirical rules I refer to the peculiar ways in which different capitalist economies are regulated and organised through different legal frameworks. 104 The problem arises from the fact that although laws are supposed to be a superstructure, they are also necessary features of the base (insofar as the economy needs rules to regulate the productive and distributive processes).

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struggle, but once established they also necessarily become base. This also means that the destiny of the base depends on the results of political struggles over how to organise it.105 Hence we can conclude that: The state actively shapes the economic base through the enactment of policies and laws. A final twist to our theory is that if leadership is successful, it transforms itself into domination. This is a coherent extension of our theory of hegemony, if combined with the base/superstructure dichotomy in order to conceive this process over time. Earlier we claimed that the state dominates insofar as it imposes its laws, and that parties are successful to the degree that they form consensus and cohesion towards certain policies and laws. It follows that leadership is eventually translated into law and domination.

Hegemony, base/superstructure, and ideology Our journey into hegemony, ideology and the base/superstructure metaphor has been long and tortuous, but now we can finally sum up our findings and see what other questions await us. Let us begin by stating our interpretation of Gramsci’s theory of hegemony. Under Capitalism:  

  

   

The ruling classes assert influence over subordinated groups by means of domination and leadership. Domination in the base is asserted through the educative process implicit in every workplace, through which rules dictated by the capitalist become necessary for the worker’s engagement in the labour process within the firm. Leadership in the base is asserted through the efforts of capitalists to create confidence in their capacities as producers. Domination in the superstructure is asserted through the laws of the state, the process of education to those laws and rules, its supervision and punishment. Leadership in the superstructure is asserted through the attempt to persuade subordinate groups to accept the comprehensive ideologies propagated by sections of the ruling classes (and consequentially the attempt to create cohesion and homogeneity through and around those ideologies) struggling for state power. Within Leadership in the superstructure, domination is asserted through: Criticism of rival political groups. Quantity, quality and reach of concrete ideological terrains. Implicitly setting the goals within the limits of capitalist relations of production (in accordance with dominant interests).

105 This also means we should conceive of the state as a meta-structure.

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We can then summarise Gramsci’s theory of ideology as: 1. explanations and evaluations of salient social phenomena (social commentary), 2. visions of a better world, 3. practical means to bring these visions to reality. We then say that any idea that has any of those features can be said to be ideology or ideological. However, only conceptions that present all three elements can be classed as comprehensive ideologies. We can then use this to summarise our base/superstructure dichotomy. Under Capitalism: a

Dominant economic groups develop a superstructure of ideologies and apparatuses (state, media, schools) to protect the relations of production by conferring on them ownership over the productive forces. So, the superstructure supports the base. b The relations of production determine the state to the extent that the latter must guarantee the basic relations of property. c Class struggle creates the material conditions (e.g., inequalities) for widespread social problems, which are the surroundings shaping the particular interests and aspirations of different groups within the social division of labour. d These inequalities and interests are viewed through different lenses depending on the ideologies and the terrains they create. e Comprehensive ideologies struggle with one another by presenting different (1.) explanations and evaluations of the social world (2.) visions of a better world and (3.) views of how to achieve the vision in practice. f The main narratives are constructed by traditional political parties and the concrete ideological terrains they create to propagate them. g The media and universities contribute considerably to this struggle by creating very extensive concrete ideological terrains. h The struggle happens for the most part through comprehensive ideologies, but it can also take place within art, folklore, philosophy, metaphysics and so on (all that matters is that an external concrete ideological terrain is created, and the ideology is not solely expressed in the mind) i The political struggle within the superstructure eventually leads to one victorious party attempting to turn 2. (the vision) into reality through the establishment of laws and policies (which previously were just 3., an element within the ideology). j At this point, the state is reacting practically to the problems and interests developed within the economic base. The superstructure now changes the base. The superstructure supports and protects this change. k Ideas become laws and leadership becomes domination. l However, if the policies try to deal with social problems within the framework of current relations of production, the changes in the base will be superficial, as they will only affect the social division of labour. m These changes are nevertheless important because they contribute to the future development of the structure and the particular contradictions and conflicts that will develop organically from it. These results thus become pre-conditions.

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As should by now be clear, hegemony and the base/superstructure are intimately interconnected. In order to understand hegemony as a theory of social influence, it is necessary for us to use the base/superstructure dichotomy to distinguish its various aspects. On the other hand, the base/superstructure relationship and its various stages only make sense if we distinguish hegemonic leadership from domination. Without this distinction, the development of the socio-economic order, with its interaction between economic interests, ideology, and state action, cannot be grasped (the base/superstructure dichotomy does not provide any distinction between domination and leadership, something that is necessary to understand the whole process). Nevertheless, one might still distinguish the two by their emphasis. While hegemony focuses on the problem of social influence, the base/superstructure relation helps us analyse historic development as well as highlighting the relationship between material interests, ideologies, and state action. In doing so, it provides a framework for analysing the economy/politics relationship. We can now finally answer our initial question (remember p. 8) and explain the roles of ideology within the reproduction and development of the socioeconomic order. Given that our ideological terrain and comprehensive ideologies have three elements, different features have different roles within this reproduction and development. The social commentary serves the purpose of providing the setting with its good and bad parts. The vision sets an imaginary aim, constructed as a better world. In comprehensive ideologies (those that move individuals towards actions) those two aspects serve the roles of creating:  

Support around the policies and laws parties or groups advocate (that is the third element of comprehensive ideologies). Create a common sense of values and aspirations.

To this extent, they could be said to contribute to the social cohesion and homogeneity between different groups, which appears to me as an aspect of the reproduction of the socio-economic order. As a whole, comprehensive ideologies have two roles within the development of the socio-economic order. First, they serve as vehicles of material and political interests. Second, they determine the development of the socio-economic order, depending on the extent to which those ideologies are transformed into laws. This means that the struggle between ideologies determines which will gain state power and concretise those ideas into practice. Thus, leading ideologies have the purpose of determining the direction towards which the socio-economic order will develop (especially in relation to the social division of labour). Now, it might appear that our voyage into the world of historical materialism and ideology is almost over, but we still need to put together all the elements gathered so far (which was not possible within the present chapter). Furthermore, there are some questions which our discussion has not answered. First, we are claiming that individuals develop a spontaneous

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consent to the socio-economic order. The ‘spontaneous’ form taken by this consent is made possible by the freedom the realm of exchange gives us, and is facilitated/imposed through the education of our intellectuals. However, we do not yet know what sort of mechanism makes this whole process possible in the first place. Our answer is simple: habit. Bourdieu’s habitus/field dichotomy will thus be used to further justify the idea that the socio-economic order creates its own consent by appearing necessary and natural. Furthermore, by using William James’ psychology we will explain the features an ideology must possess to be believed, as well as the ways in which material interests are translated into broader political interests through comprehensive ideologies.

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Practice, habit, and consent We claimed that the consent to the socio-economic order rises spontaneously from its own existence and necessity. However, we have not yet discussed the mechanism making the educative process facilitating this consent possible. We speak of spontaneous or passive consent, yet this spontaneity is the product of an educative process that starts through our parents and continues through life. We also know that this process does not take place on a tabula rasa, our instincts must be corrected to make us operative members of society. My reason for choosing habit as the mechanism through which individuals are ‘socialised’ is that it appears the most compatible with our approach, as we have tried to deal with ideology in a manner that might be called naturalistic. Most of the assumptions presented throughout this work can be confirmed by our reader’s own everyday experiences. Without relying on complex theories of subterranean ideological powers, we might simply say that individuals consent and participate to the socio-economic order because they have been habituated to this world through direct educative process, and through their own individual experiences. To better explain this process, we will employ Bourdieu’s habitus/field dichotomy. While habitus is simply another word for habit, the field represents a social/ spatial context characterised by different positions and a set of explicit and/or unwritten rules. The field is often described by Bourdieu metaphorically as a game played by the agents involved. Individuals acquire x habitus by interacting with x field. The habitus becomes an ‘incorporated state’ as it internalises the logics of the field within the agent’s body: The specific logic of a field is established in the incorporated state in the form of a specific habitus, or, more precisely, a sense of the game, ordinarily described as a ‘spirit’ or ‘sense’ (‘philosophical’, ‘literary’, ‘artistic’, etc.), which is practically never set out or imposed in an explicit way.1

1 Bourdieu, P. (2000) p. 11.

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In other words, the exposure to the field makes it possible for agents to unconsciously acquire a ‘sense for the game’ and become accustomed to its rules. Habitus is thus constraint insofar as it limits the agent’s actions to those permitted by the field, while it is also active as it ‘constructs the world by a certain way of orientating itself towards it’.2 Bourdieu argues that the choices agents make are mostly automatic reactions dictated by habitus’ encounter with variables/events within the field: ‘The game presents itself to someone caught up in it, absorbed in it, as a transcendent universe, imposing its own ends and norms unconditionally’.3 Therefore, for Bourdieu, consent to a socio-economic order is not something which is achieved through discourse (ideology). Individuals simply become accustomed to it: this submission is in no way a ‘voluntary servitude’ and this complicity is not granted by a conscious, deliberate act; it is itself the effect of a power, which is durably inscribed in the bodies of the dominated, in the form of schemes of perception and dispositions.4 Individuals are so absorbed in the game that they unconsciously naturalise it. The legitimacy of rules is taken for granted simply because they exist, and they are practically real (thus necessary) for the players/agents involved in the various fields. We might now combine the habitus/field framework with our analysis of fetishism. We must start by picking the relevant field: exchange. Exchanging commodities is not something anybody teaches us. The fact that the realisation of any necessary plan or project (like the fulfilment of essential needs) depends on the exchange of money for our desired use value (commodity), might go unnoticed at a very young age (when we completely depend on others). However, this fact starts imposing itself on us like a law of nature once we become old enough to purchase our own things. The exchange of things for money, this necessary feature which every relation of production or consumption underlies, appears to us as natural as the trees and skies. It is embodied into us, before we know it, through our practical doings and trivial activities. It is the law that underlies everything that can be created or consumed. Things can all be exchanged, and so can our labour power. But our labour power cannot be exchanged in shops like money. Only in the presence of capital, in all its magnificence and opulence, can our labour find a place for a worthy use. Therefore, the power of capital appears natural because it is necessary for us to contribute to the productive process. Capital creates employment, human and scientific development. This is not propaganda, it is truth. Fetishistic and one-sided truth perhaps, but truth nevertheless. We 2 Ibid., p. 144. 3 Ibid., p. 151. 4 Ibid., p. 171.

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naturally let dead labour dictate the conditions of living labour. In our practical life, we are all fetishists and we must be, because otherwise the world would make no sense. Fetishism is therefore an ingrained habit that is necessary for our practical engagement with exchange, the most widespread and essential field within capitalism. The one-sidedness of the story our fetishistic practice tells us will be further developed later (pp. 204–208). Let us now turn to our analysis of interest and belief through James’ The Principles of Psychology.

Practice, interest, and belief We have argued that although ideologies can be dominant within the struggle for leadership, they do not dominate the individual. The individual is free to reject them when they are in the phase of ideas, they only dominate when they are translated into laws. One might still wonder what makes some ideologies more successful than others? We also said that ideologies seem to have this power of translating material/class interests into wider political interests, but how is this done exactly? Gramsci does not provide any answers to this. So, we will address these questions through James’ psychology. According to James, during perception or inward reflection, the mind selects certain properties of objects (by ‘attending’ them, that is by giving such properties our attention) while dismissing others.5 This tendency to attend certain objects instead of others depends on our ‘interests’. The meaning of interest in James’ psychology is straightforward. Things are interesting to us insofar as they are perceived as relevant to our aesthetic and practical life. Interesting things are given a status of ‘independence and dignity’. James explains ‘our interest in things’ in terms of ‘the attention and emotion which the thought of them will excite, and the actions which their presence will evoke’.6 Furthermore, every species is particularly interested in its own prey or food, its own enemies, its own sexual mates, and its own young. These things fascinate by their intrinsic power to do so; they are cared for for their own sakes.7 Certain objects are ‘interesting for their own sake’ insofar as they relate to our basic instincts. Nevertheless, ‘other objects may become interesting derivatively through association with any of these things, either as means or as habitual concomitants; and so in a thousand ways the primitive sphere of the egoistic emotions may enlarge and change its boundaries’.8 Hence objects might be interesting because they are connected to other interesting things. Given that things are interesting to someone as they have a certain relevance 5 6 7 8

James, W. (1983) p. 274. Ibid., p. 304. Ibid. Ibid., p. 308.

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to her life (whether aesthetic or practical), a person’s interests will in turn depend on her environment, past experiences, and on both the habits formed in order to deal with social reality and those stemming from personal preferences and idiosyncrasies. Let us now turn to belief, whose analysis will help us understand what kind of qualities make certain ideologies persuasive to people, and consequentially widespread. According to James, an object of belief ‘is not only apprehended by the mind, but is held to have reality. Belief is thus the mental state or function of cognizing reality. (…) “Belief” will mean every degree of assurance, including the highest possible certainty and conviction’.9 The difference between an object that is merely attended by the mind and one which is believed is that the latter is also given a status of reality. James asserts that an individual’s practical/sensuous reality plays a central role in dictating what she/he will or will not believe. One first believes objects which encountered in one’s practical activity; others might also be believed but they ought not to contradict this practical standpoint. For most people ‘the “things of sense” hold this prerogative position, and are the absolutely real world’s nucleus’.10 Although abstract objects might be believed, they are ‘taken less seriously; and the very utmost that can be said for anyone’s belief in them is that it is as strong as his “belief in his own senses”’.11 Therefore, he argues that ‘reality means simply relation to our emotional and active life’.12 We can believe theories or theological narratives, but those objects need some connection with our everyday life to be believed. Thus, practice represents the ‘hook from which the rest dangles, the absolute support’.13 As a consequence of this, whatever things have intimate and continuous connection with my life are things of whose reality I cannot doubt. Whatever things fail to establish this connection are things which are practically no better for me than if they existed not at all.14 James concludes that ‘sensible objects are thus either our realities or the tests of our realities. Conceived objects must show sensible effects or else be disbelieved’.15 ‘The quality of arising emotion’16 is also key to belief: ‘Every exciting thought in the natural man carries credence with it. To conceive with passion is eo ipso to affirm’.17 Given that James conceives belief as an attitude/ 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Ibid., Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid. Ibid., Ibid., Ibid.,

p. 913. p. 924. p. 926. p. 930. p. 935. p. 936.

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disposition towards a given object (affirming or denying such an object’s existence), the more emotionally charged our attitude towards it, the more surely we will believe it: ‘The reason of the belief is undoubtedly the bodily commotion which the exciting idea sets up. “Nothing which I can feel like that can be false”’.18 Even though other objects might ‘whisper doubt or disbelief ’, ‘the object of passion makes us deaf to all but itself, and we affirm it unhesitatingly’.19 Hence, a given object not only makes us believe it because of our passion towards it, but it also makes us ‘deaf ’ to all those other objects which might contradict it. This fact of human psychology and its connection to ideology and politics are presented magnificently in George Orwell’s 1984. The ‘two minutes of hate’ serve the purpose of keeping emotion alive among party members. The hatred towards Goldstein gives the party its legitimacy. There is someone to hate, and so we must unite to fight against him. The concept of ‘bellyfeel’ is even more ingenious. Under the party’s rule individuals are taught to blindly and enthusiastically embrace the ideas of the party. They do not accept those ideas because of their inherent worth, but because they have been conditioned to have certain emotional responses towards it. They ‘feel’ those ideas to be right even though they might not know why. Orwell would have probably agreed with the following statement from The Principles: ‘Blame, dread, and hope are thus the great belief-inspiring passions, and cover among them the future, the present, and the past’.20 Finally, James discusses the ‘objects of theory’, namely philosophies attempting to explain reality. He argues that: The conceived system, to pass for true, must at least include the reality of the sensible objects in it, by explaining them as effects on us, if nothing more. The system which includes the most of them, and definitely explains or pretends to explain the most of them, will, ceteris paribus, prevail.21 In order to be believed, a given theory must somehow explain those objects that we encounter in our daily practical lives. The more facts such a theory explains (or pretends to explain) the greater will be the chances of it being believed. However, this is not all. In fact, James also claims that a theory ‘will be most generally believed which, besides offering us objects able to account satisfactorily for our sensible experience, also offers those which are most interesting, those which appeal most urgently to our (aesthetic, emotional, and active needs)’.22 For a theory to be believed it must be appealing from the 18 19 20 21 22

Ibid. Ibid., p. 937. Ibid., p. 939. Ibid. Ibid., p. 940.

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perspective of people’s practical and emotional needs. It must depict a reality that has a certain congruity with how we experience it, and take seriously our desires and emotions. Furthermore the aesthetic and intellectual needs of individuals are represented by ‘the two great aesthetic principles, of richness and of ease’.23 The concept of richness is already expressed in the quote above (that of explaining as many objects as possible) and the word ‘ease’ just means ‘simplicity’.

The fundamental qualities of popular ideologies I will now try to explain the link between James’ psychology and ideology. Different groups can look at an event (e.g., economic crisis) and create different narratives by connecting this to other facts and narratives. The individual is not only presented with facts but with different ways in which they can be read. Politicians can employ whatever facts they wish for whatever ends they might want to pursue. However, there are restrictions they must be aware of. If they want to gain a following, they cannot create a narrative merely satisfying their own needs, they must also satisfy the needs of other groups. This is necessary to achieve hegemonic leadership and the formation of historic blocs. Hence, by following James, we can postulate some essential properties which a comprehensive ideology or a political philosophy must have if it is to be believed: 1 2 3

4 5

It must relate to the practical and daily lives of individuals. It must address the problems and contradictions they encounter. It must present means to solve these problems and contradictions. It must relate to people’s general interests and include objects towards which individuals have a strong emotional connection (Blame, fear and hope represent the most exploitable emotions within the political realm). It must explain as many facts of social reality as possible. It must be simple.

Point three is particularly interesting. In fact, politicians not only exploit those emotions that people feel towards particular objects (e.g., the nation, family, etc.) but they are, in principle, also able to create emotional responses towards new objects. This is due to the relationship between facts and narratives. If a given event occurs, even though it might not be relevant to my daily life, a narrative could be constructed around it, which bestows it with emotional significance. In other words, I can make what is for you an otherwise uninteresting object interesting by connecting it to other objects you already find interesting. Hence, emotional manipulation perhaps represents the strongest weapon in the politician’s arsenal. This leads to the problem of transforming economic/material interests into political interests. 23 Ibid., p. 943.

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The transformation of material interests into political interest There is a purely ‘structural’ definition of material interests in Marx’s works. Capital has an interest in profit, while labour has an interest in wages. This is because the two classes obtain their means of subsistence through those forms. However, as we argued earlier, those interests are in conflict, so that while capital will generally push for lower wages, labour will conversely push for higher wages. This is what Gramsci calls the ‘economic-corporate’ phase of politics, where all that is asserted is the structural needs and interests of the two classes. However, if we speak empirically, the material interests of groups must vary depending on the position of the individuals within the social division of labour, so that the material interests of capitalists producing certain commodities (e.g., coffee and tea), might be different from capitalists producing other things (e.g., computers). The same goes for labour. This makes the evaluation of actual material interests even more difficult to predict. In fact, within a given industry (e.g., coffee) a common material interest can also exist between capital and labour. Both would gain through improved and extended production of coffee. Marx himself implicitly acknowledges the contextuality of class relations in the following passage: ‘The separate individuals form a class only insofar as they have to carry on a common battle against another class; in other respects they are on hostile terms with each other as competitors’.24 Therefore, although we can indeed conceive material interests, a-priori, in structural terms (profit/wage), the actual material interests of individuals cannot be predicted beforehand and must be worked out by analysing the social division of labour and the various contradictions and material interests arising within this context. Nevertheless, to understand the transformation from material to political interests, we simply need to assume that groups have material interests (their specific content does not matter). We argued that parties are expressions of classes and social groups. We can assume one group to be the ‘leading’ one, what Gramsci calls the ‘avant garde’. We can further assume that if a group takes this leading position, it must already have some vision of the world and the means to bring it about. Its specific material interests must already take the form of state policy, they must already be in this sense ‘politicised’; otherwise they would have nothing to propose or say to the groups they want to persuade. We can thus assume that this first translation of material interests (economic needs) to political interest (policies and laws that would fulfil those needs) is the pre-condition for the formation of a political party. At this point, the question of our party leaders would be ‘how can we make other groups want what we want?’ The answer to this question is simple: They must attempt to connect their political interests (policies and laws) with the economic/material interests of the groups they seek to persuade. Since a thing can be made interesting to someone if connected to something he already finds interesting, our leaders must research what kinds of material interests 24 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976b) p. 77.

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different social groups have. Our party cannot create an ideology broad enough to account for all groups’ interests, so some groups will be selected as possible electorates instead of others. However, parties cannot be straightforward political expressions (e.g., policies and laws) corresponding to specific material interests. A whole moral and cultural outlook is also integrated within the comprehensive ideologies that leading groups propose. Although material interests can be assumed to arouse a strong passion (since the realisation of any other interests depends on the more basic need for money), other elements must also be combined to further enlighten this passion. This can be done by connecting these material interests with the broader cultural or moral attitudes of individuals. Thus, our leaders must understand what other things interest our groups. What kind of things do they care for? What aspects of social reality do they support, and what aspects are they afraid of? Once we gauge the general interests of our groups, then we can further connect their basic material interests to general problems affecting them and to things they care for. Our comprehensive ideology can thus connect a specific material interest (e.g., employment within x industry) with a social fact the group has a certain attitude towards (e.g., corruption, crime). So that we can say that unemployment is caused by corruption and crime. In this manner, what previously was simply a material interest, now becomes a wider social concern for corruption and criminality. The material interest is simply connected to the broader political issue by means of causal connection (through social commentary). So that within the minds of groups material interests for employment in industry x and the fight against corruption become one single indiscernible fact. The fulfilment of material interests is now embedded into a larger narrative making other aims necessary for this fulfilment. We can therefore say that the translation of material interests into political interests is carried out by associating the fulfilment of the former with the resolution of broader social problems. This combination between the two also serves the purpose of giving the comprehensive ideology its universal and broad form. Group one might have material interest x, group two might have material interest y. However, if I connect both interests to other broader social facts which I claim are barriers to the fulfilment of those interests, then the material interests of groups one and two are in this sense unified under the same aim and purpose (changing those facts). In other words, their material interests are unified within a more general political interest they have in common. This connection could be entirely arbitrary, but it serves its purpose of bringing together the various emotions, values and needs different social groups might have. Now our groups are together under one wider political aim. Finally, our leaders must connect all these material, moral and cultural interests (with all their emotions) together with their initial piece of policy.25 The whole 25 Of course, to make their ideology credible, the leaders might also propose other policies that appear to serve the interests of the groups whose support they are seeking. Whether those policies would truly help the interests of those groups, and whether the party leaders will implement them as promised, is something which we cannot assume a-priori.

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magic of ideology, its universal and comprehensive form, its power to spring groups to action, can (in my opinion) be explained through this simple process of interest creation and manipulation. As James’ analysis of belief suggests, the best means to create this unity and passion is to inspire blame, fear and hope among the groups one is seeking to persuade. Parties must blame adversary groups for salient social problems and assert their nefarious nature. Their behaviour must be depicted as a living threat to those things our selected groups hold dear. Our plans must also inspire hope, and since this hope is to be shared by different groups within the same ideology, it must be based on a broad vision of the future that is able to embody the aspirations and needs (whether material, political, or cultural) of those different groups. A final implication of James’ analysis is that once a world of truth, hope, and blame has been constructed through our comprehensive ideologies, another sub-world of disbelief is spontaneously created, so that our group recoils in disgust whenever adversarial groups state their views. Their emotions and faith make them deaf to all things said by the enemy. Their beliefs are illusory. They are pretexts for their destructive purposes. Their words are nothing but poison spouting from the depths of hell. Ideologies thus create worlds of belief as much as they create subsequent worlds of disbelief.

Practice determines ideas Our theory of ideology has been constructed with the idea of combining what we deemed to be the most defensible aspects of previous theories and readings of Marx and Gramsci. This work has also tried to show that some of the problems within the Marxist literature surrounding ideology lay in the ways in which Marx’s historical materialism has been deconstructed into different and seemingly incompatible theories. We tried to prove that what Marx says can be constructed as a coherent whole, even though within this theory no definition of ideology is provided unless perhaps vaguely or implicitly. Marx’s ingenious criticisms accompanied by his materialist reading of his adversaries’ theories, has been interpreted by commentators as implicitly presenting his theory of ideology. In my opinion, it is not that Marx had a critical theory of ideology, but that historical materialism itself is a critical method that can be applied to criticise a theoretical construct by highlighting its historical contextuality, the material interests it serves, or its role in justifying relations of production, etc. Another misunderstanding that, although less common today, still exists, is that ideology simply means the determination of ideas from the material base. Although we believe this is indeed a claim Marx makes, we have tried to express it through our theory of formation of ideas (pp. 122–123). We have tried to avoid deterministic implications. This theory makes no assumption regarding what the individual thinks specifically. We argued that if the engagement with a certain material practice is necessary for the individual due to historic

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circumstances or due to his position within the division of labour, then the individual will have to form corresponding cognitive capacities. This appears to us as an obvious fact. We can also extend this theory to any social practice that is necessary for the individual to live within any given environment. Furthermore, the acceptance of theoretical constructs such as ideologies might also appear necessary to individuals involved within a given field. This is simply due to our natural desire for recognition from other agents within the same field. If all my peers adopt x ideology and I were to embrace a different and contradictory ideology, or simply show apathy when they discuss politics, it is likely I will not be recognised as part of the group but excluded instead. If everyone believes x, my belief in x (or at least a pretension of belief) becomes necessary for my belonging to the group, which in turn might be necessary for me to have a ‘normal’ social life. Indeed, I believe that recognition and exclusion are the two mechanisms determining the spreading of ideologies within specific environments. If everyone believes x, x becomes an objective thought form I must also believe if I hope to fit in. Individuals’ ways of thinking are affected by what they do on a practical level or what appears necessary within the provincial, national or international context. Material practice might not determine what the individual thinks, but our position within the social division of labour gives us a particular perspective towards the rest. The same applies to our geographical location as different places entail different fields (with their implicit rules) and certain widespread beliefs. We will experience certain facts instead of others, certain ideas instead of others, as well as developing specific physical/mental capacities. Our minds’ raw material of external experience is determined by practice. To develop a habit and practical reason corresponding to social practices is necessary for our individual, unless she decides to reject all rules and live as an outlaw. Social practices and corresponding objective thought forms, must be taken as the raw material when one tries to understand the logics of various fields. But the individual still has the freedom to arrange this material in his mind. Even if material practices or other social practices are widespread within the individual’s fields of action, we cannot know what she thinks of them. Social theory is so complex precisely because one must find ways to capture the homogeneity within practices and beliefs within certain strata, and yet allow for differences and exceptions.

Fetishism and fetishistic ideologies Marx’s theory of formation of ideas was constructed for two reasons. First, to lay the basic framework through which our theory of ideology was later developed through Gramsci. Second, to conceptually connect what Marx says in The German Ideology with his analysis of commodity fetishism in Capital. In fact, we have argued that fetishism should be understood as an example of Marx’s general theory of formation of ideas applied to the capitalist mode of

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production. Our theory of fetishism was then presented (pp. 148–154) in the following manner: We first stated the pre-conditions for capitalist relations of production. Then we postulated what we called fetishism in exchange, and the inversion and subordination of production to exchange. Finally, we discussed what I called fetishism in exchange-production. Under capitalism, all production and consumption occur through the exchange of commodities. This means that it is necessary for us to develop a fetishistic practical reason (experienced as an objective thought form). We must treat every commodity as commensurable and labour itself must be treated as a commodity. We work because we believe that the commodities we create have value. The power of labour to create value is therefore attributed to its products. Labour itself has no worth or value unless employed by capital. So, capital appears as a creative force making cooperation, production, and value creation possible. Capital also appears to embody scientific knowledge and development. Whether we want it or not, for all practical purposes we must treat every interaction as the exchange of commodities, and capital as the pre-condition for production. We must be fetishists. While fetishism is a necessary feature of our thinking when we practically relate to the world, our minds are free to make whatever speculative connections. After all, we are all philosophers. So, although fetishistic theoretical constructs exist, whether we accept them or not is not set in stone. Now that we have our theory of ideology, we can further discuss what makes a theory fetishistic. Marx himself can help us understand this: There are two points here which are characteristic of the method of the bourgeoisie’s economic apologists. The first is the identification of the circulation of commodities with the direct exchange of products, achieved simply by abstracting from their differences. The second is the attempt to explain away the contradictions of the capitalist process of production by dissolving the relations between persons engaged in that process of production into the simple relations arising out of the circulation of commodities.26 In other words, bourgeois political economy reduces capitalist relations of production to the simple exchange of commodities, while abstracting away from concrete differences between the commodities exchanged. This means that through this abstraction labour itself is viewed as a commodity. All inequalities are thus abstracted away, and only the surface of our formal equality as commodity exchangers remains. This first theoretical form corresponds to the practical reasoning entailed by fetishism in exchange. The second theoretical construct is based on fetishism in exchangeproduction:

26 Marx, K. (1990) p. 209.

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Praxis, thought, and the social world The ever-growing weight of the assistance given by past labour to the living labour process in the form of means of production is therefore attributed to that form of past labour in which it is alienated [enifremdet], as unpaid labour, from the worker himself, i.e. it is attributed to its form as capital. The practical agents of capitalist production and their ideological word-spinners are as incapable of thinking of the means of production separately from the antagonistic social mask they wear at present as a slaveowner is of thinking of the worker himself as distinct from his character as a slave.27

In this case, we would have constructs that treat capital as a necessary creative force. Production is only conceived as production within capital. Since capital appears necessary for production, and human and scientific development, the relations of production are treated as necessary, and therefore natural and everlasting, while capital itself is depicted as absolutely good (the exchange-production construct only keeps the ‘good bits’ of capitalism and ignores the rest). We can sum all this up by saying that fetishistic constructs are characterised by any of the following:    

The isolation/abstraction of the realm of exchange from the rest of the productive process. The assumption that all individuals are free and equal insofar as they can all equally exchange their labour and commodities (which entails a reification of labour as a commodity). The assumption that capital is the creative force within the productive process. The assumption that capitalist relations of production are natural.28

Since we have argued that a thought or construct can be ideological insofar as it addresses one of our three features, our fetishistic constructs would be classed as social commentaries within the ideological terrain. Fetishistic ideologies abstract away from the inequalities and contradictions within capitalism to offer us a rosy picture. We can only be considered free and equal when we abstract away from our inequalities as exchangers. Our only freedom is the freedom to choose between options. But the options that are available to the individual depend on whether she owns capital or labour. Thus, bourgeois freedom is a purely formal freedom, the freedom of choosing itself, abstracted from the concrete possibilities individuals can choose from. This freedom, as Marx himself recognises, certainly represents a ‘step up’ from 27 Ibid., p. 757. 28 To be precise, we should understand those assumptions as constituting what we might call fetishistic political philosophy (the framework for analysis). Once the framework is applied to explain given social phenomena, it becomes ideology. Remember pp. 181–182.

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earlier relations of production where individuals were more or less coerced into performing labour. Nevertheless, according to this formal conception we are free even though we exercise this freedom by choosing where to crawl when bombs fall from the sky. The options themselves are thus irrelevant from this perspective. Fetishistic theories also explicitly treat capital as a productive force engendering human and scientific development. Production is conflated with capitalist production, capital appears necessary, and because of this it is also treated as natural. This fetishistic form is one-sided as it only takes into account the ‘positive aspects’ of capital and conceals its exploitative force and the contradictions the process of surplus accumulation brings about. By assuming the productive properties of capital, this form also conceals the fact that labour power is the only source of value. Ideologies are fetishistic if they present the above characteristics. Their power lies in their support from individuals’ practical experiences. If in their minds, capitalism is solely portrayed within exchange, the problems and contradictions this system brings about appear as coming from elsewhere. Furthermore, since fetishistic theories often entail or explicitly state that capitalism is natural because capital is necessary, those constructs are often the basis for dominant ideologies. Earlier we defined dominant comprehensive ideologies as those that seek to satisfy people’s interests and solve problems within the framework of existing relations of production. This means that although a party might be to an extent critical of these relations (e.g., left-leaning and reformist parties), they are nevertheless implicitly treated as limits. In other words, even comprehensive ideologies that are to some extent critical, remain dominant for as long as their projects do not go beyond the current socio-economic order and its relations of production. On the other hand, we can speak of fetishistic dominant ideologies when we are presented with an apologetic social commentary of capitalist relations of production. Those limits are not just implicit in the programmes of those comprehensive ideologies, they are rather treated as good, natural and necessary in an explicit manner. Fetishistic ideologies often awaken fear in the hearts of social groups by claiming that these groups’ freedom is under threat from some other groups that seek to destroy it. Such ideologies are characteristic of those groups that do not want to acknowledge the contradictions of capitalism and seek to keep its logics as free from state intervention as possible. A common example of fetishistic ideology is economic (laissez-faire) liberalism. This position coincides with capital’s immediate interest in profit and minimum state regulations. The fetishism of practical life makes this construct appealing even to those who would not gain from the policies this view often entails. We can thus say that fetishistic ideologies serve the purpose of depicting capitalist relations of production as good, necessary, and natural. Once the limits are said to be good limits, then convincing groups to accept them becomes a considerably easier task. Another use of

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this construct is that it can somehow embody Larrain’s definition of ideology as the concealment of social contradictions. Although we do not want to claim that all comprehensive ideologies have this feature, through the concept of fetishistic ideology we are able to isolate these specific constructs. However, in our opinion these constructs do not conceal social contradictions, but rather abstract away from them when describing the relations of production. Nevertheless, their role in creating narratives that do not consider the destructive side of capitalism and resulting contradictions is maintained.

Economic hegemony We have argued that although the realm of exchange gives us the impression of being free, and that this freedom makes our engagement with the socioeconomic order voluntary and spontaneous (nobody drags us to work, we apply for it), this consent is not something automatic, but the result of a long process of education and consequent habit formation. Through Gramsci’s works we have further developed our story of fetishism and the domination of capital over individuals by turning our capitalist into an intellectual and social organiser. This serves the purpose of giving fetishism its ‘human soul’. If we were content to argue that fetishism alone ensures consent, then we might end up with a somehow deterministic theory, where commodities themselves automatically ‘dupe us’ into ordered lines in the factory. We have thus argued that efforts are needed. Hegemonic efforts to dominate by imposing rules and limits and by educating individuals to those rules and limits and making sure that the rules are respected (otherwise punishment will ensue). All these features presuppose what we earlier called concrete authority (the underlying power to punish). These efforts start in the factory itself, where our workers must be educated to the practical and mental skills necessary for production, as well as to the discipline the process requires. Thus, although we can say that individuals consent to the socio-economic order because it exists and is necessary, and that this consent takes a voluntary/spontaneous form due to the mediation of commodities, our individuals and groups are not a tabula rasa. Their instincts and views might be incompatible with capital. Thus, education is something essential even for a system that appears self-regulating. Although commodities regulate themselves through exchange, individuals must be prepared for the life capital has in reserve for them. We therefore assume that every effort to educate individuals to the rules of capital will be met with (at least a degree of) resistance. The agency of our groups and individuals is not something we want to do without. However, the freedom to refuse the capitalist relations of production will only lead our groups to a miserable life either on the outskirts of society, or as fugitives and law-breakers. Therefore, although we do not know what our individuals think of capital, we know that their consent to the socio-

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economic order is necessary for them to live (what we might call) a normal life. After all, what exists and serves a necessary function is necessary, and what is necessary is also rational. To reject the whole socio-economic order is to reject social (and therefore rational) life itself. Even if we assume that our groups and individuals are already pre-disposed for a life under the servitude of capital, their doings must be corrected, organised, and (when needed) punished. They might be the most servient workers in the whole world, but their skills and personal attitudes might not be compatible with our factory line. We must maximise productivity under capital! Our capitalists’ profit and consequently their success in the market are at stake here. Therefore, intellectuals, that is our organisers par-excellence, are necessary even if only to correct the sloth-like movements of a novice handling the machinery. Intellectuals are therefore important to us because they organise masses and try to create social homogeneity within different realms of society. Every form of productive labour brings along its own intellectuals, because every methodical practice entails an underlying theory of practice that must be expounded to facilitate the habituation of the individual to necessary skills. Of course, the function of the intellectuals is that of supervisors as well as educators, so that after their wisdom has been transferred into the bodies of our workers, they will have to make sure the job is done correctly.

Political hegemony and ideology Understanding the way in which the state dominates individuals is a straightforward task. The state has concrete authority over us, we must respect the rules, otherwise we will be punished. The state has the right to do this, and we must obey or face dire consequences. We also said that the educative system dominates individuals, and this is for the same reasons. Teachers have concrete authority over their students. They also must try to dominate their instincts and behaviours, as this is necessary for them to respect the concrete authority of the state, which is a necessary pre-condition for them to be able to enter the labour force. So, we can say that the domination of the state, the educative system, and capital over the individual are all explained through the same features, an underlying power to punish (what we called concrete authority), the setting of limits, the education to those limits, and the supervision that those limits are respected. Thus, while economic domination is asserted by capital, ‘political domination’ is a matter for the state and its various institutions. However, we rejected the idea that ideology and the other apparatuses (e.g., media) dominate us. We have said that they contribute to the formation of leadership. The inquisitive reader might wonder whether this is always the case though. For example, if we consider dictatorial regimes with no free speech, then the state could have concrete authority over individuals even in terms of

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what they believe. A monolithic state ideology is forced on people, and punishment awaits them if they refuse it. Thus, we are happy to concede that ideology can dominate individuals if forced upon them on the grounds of some underlying punishment. Rejecting the ideology would make our individual as much an outcast as someone refusing to obey the law. Nevertheless, whether our individual, in the privacy of his mind, is true and honest about his belief, we do not know. Since our theory has been tailored to understand the current situation within western liberal democracies, we cannot talk of the imposition of a monolithic ideology (despite what some critical thinkers might claim). Rather, we have a struggle for leadership among ruling groups. The more ‘critical mind’ might see this all as a sham and try to construct some underlying interest that those groups all express. We have tried to keep this in mind with our very broad definition of dominant ideologies (pp. 186–187). Nevertheless, we believe that party politics is of tremendous importance, because although it might not radically alter the socio-economic order, the laws and policies resulting from these struggles will become pre-conditions for the further development of the economic base and its contextual contradictions. What groups will benefit from the changes and what groups will suffer? We wanted to frame ideology within Marx’s superstructure. We wanted to give politics a broader meaning (to make sense of Marx’s inclusions of arts, philosophy, and metaphysics) than usual, yet be able to account for what might be universally conceived as political/party ideologies. To do this we have postulated a general ideological terrain made of certain types of knowledge. The general ideological terrain can be touched by any form of thought. It might be through the speculative madness of the paranoid conspiracist, through systematic analysis, casual chat in the bar, a piece of art, etc. Indeed, our general terrain makes it possible for us to compare different constructs on the same plane. I might think that the financial crisis was caused by the wrath of God, or by the evils of some people. I might also analyse the problem through a study of economic phenomena and state policy. It does not matter to us. If the object of contemplation is the same, you are on our general terrain. Our general terrain serves the purpose of distinguishing forms that are ideological from those that are not. Because of this, the general terrain does not have any specific role within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. We said that for a construct to be ideology it must simply address our terrain: unless this construct is outwardly expressed and shared with others, it cannot have any consequence whatsoever. Its practical place is with castles in the air. Ideologies only become real, when they are expressed, when they form what we are calling a concrete terrain. Earlier we argued that for a terrain to become concrete it must be expressed through some action. Of course, the strengths and effect of this terrain

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29

will depend on the means through which our ideas are propagated. So, the more tools our groups have at their disposal, the higher the chances they will be able to spread their ideology. Concrete ideological terrains are important to us because they play a role in shaping public opinion over the topics they cover. By doing this, they also affect the degrees of homogeneity and fragmentation in the views and beliefs of groups/individuals. This is in my opinion their general role within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. However, our concrete terrains cannot do much more than that unless they contribute to the development and spreading of comprehensive ideologies. For example, imagine a reporter investigating a criminal gang. Let us imagine that this reporter explains in detail our mobsters’ deeds and how they affect society (eg. politicians have ties with them). This might have a strong effect on public opinion. Everyone suddenly realises where all the tax money went, why nobody was building better roads, etc. However, our reporter is not providing a solution to the problem. He does not know how to solve it. He can provide the social commentary, and perhaps a vision of a better world, but he does not provide the means to change the world from how it is to how it should be. His ideology is not comprehensive. His commentary might inspire dread and blame, but he does not provide any hope. Our reporter cannot move individuals to action. However, if our hegemonic apparatuses for political leadership (the media and universities) provide narratives that are to some extent in line with what a group or politician aims to do, although they might not propagate a comprehensive ideology themselves, they create terrains that supports the comprehensive ideology of their group. Thus, we can argue that non-comprehensive ideological terrains become part of larger comprehensive ideological terrains if they present views that support them. The ‘real’ ideologies, the ones that inspire us to do things, can only be comprehensive ideologies, those that contain all three features of our general terrain. These features must be interlinked with one another. The social commentary explains what the negative and positive parts of our society are (the good/bad parts). The vision contraposes this dreadful world with a better one, in which the bad parts will disappear. The means are our solution. Our way to move from our world to our vision. Without a plan to solve a problem 29 Expressing ideological thoughts through speech alone creates the weakest terrain. This is because its maintenance requires this speech to be kept up by individuals propagating their ideologies. If our group stops speaking, the ideology will disappear with it (at least from an ‘outside perspective’). On the other hand, forms such as writing, videos, recordings, etc., have much more power, as they translate ideology into material and permanent objects. Those objects will remain there unless they are destroyed. So that no need for a ‘constant maintenance’ of ideology through speech is required. Furthermore, material objectifications of ideologies might have a stronger impact on the individual encountering them. It seems to me that things that are written or recorded might appear to the individual has being ‘more official’ and ‘authoritative’ than ideologies expressed through speech. This last suggestion is just a personal intuition though. The matter should be investigated empirically.

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there is no hope, and without hope there cannot be unity. The problem with uncomprehensive concrete terrains is that although they might affect public opinion and even create some homogeneity in views with respect to a topic, they cannot create unity without a plan. Without a plan, our groups might be divided even if they agree on what the problem is. One group argues for this solution, others disagree. Although homogeneity might exist in some common views those groups hold, unity without a programme cannot exist. In other words, without comprehensive ideologies, our groups cannot become a unified force, and our leaders cannot dream of creating a historic bloc. As we argued earlier, the most powerful creators of comprehensive ideologies are political parties. They should be conceived as an avant-garde seeking to unify the needs, interests, conceptions, and aspirations of different groups under one ideology. Therefore, political parties are the creators of historic blocs par excellence. As we have seen earlier, traditional parties have various strengths (pp. 182–184). Although ideologies can be classed as comprehensive as soon as they present our three features in a unitary and coherent manner, some ideologies are more comprehensive than others. The more issues our social commentary tackles, and the more complex our vision of the world and the plans to make it reality, the more our ideology will be comprehensive. Traditional political parties can create the most comprehensive ideologies because they possess the resources/means to quite literally research into what problems affect our groups, what values they hold and what things interest them. Traditional parties can gather information about groups’ interests and grievances and use this information to carefully tailor their comprehensive ideologies to ‘give the people what they want’. Due to their skills as statesmen, our parties are also credible sources for change. This, combined with their structural authority, give them much more credibility than other groups presenting their comprehensive ideologies. On top of this, traditional parties can normally count on the supportive views of certain media outlets and academics (making their concrete terrains even more extensive), and have ties with social groups within the base and the superstructure. Nobody more than our traditional party is cut out for the job of governing us. This is why, despite their continuous failures to actually deliver what they have promised, traditional parties still gain considerable support. After all, even if the previous politicians did nothing, how do I know the next one will be the same? Her speech addressed my problems, what she says makes sense to me. I have voted for her party all my life and only had disappointments. But not this time. I can tell she will do what she promised. And so again, another circle of trust and hope is created. We can now come back to the roles of (comprehensive) ideologies within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. Earlier, we argued that comprehensive ideologies play an important role in creating homogeneity and unity/cohesion among different social groups. In our opinion, this is an aspect of the reproduction of the socio-economic order. The more unified and homogenous our groups, the more smoothly the whole

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system will reproduce itself while if the social consciousness of our groups is fragmented and contradictory, they might produce conflicts. We also said that ideologies have two roles within the development of the social and economic order. First, they serve as the means through which material and political interests are expressed. Second, comprehensive ideologies determine the development of the socio-economic order by providing a direction towards which laws and policies will be enacted by the state. Therefore, the struggle between comprehensive ideologies, by determining which ideology will win, will determine which ideology (or ideologies in the case of coalitions) is actualised through its transformation into policies/laws. These policies and laws will in turn dictate the way in which the social division of labour will develop (along with the future conflicts and contradictions within the base). Thus, ideologies determine the development of the socio-economic order by becoming laws and policies, and by doing so, they determine the development of the social division of labour and corresponding contradictions/conflicts within the socio-economic order. Ideology also plays the role of supporting/criticising certain aspects of social reality. An example of this is what we called fetishistic ideologies. Those forms quite explicitly justify capitalist relations of production. Although earlier we argued that individuals do not necessarily need to positively evaluate the socio-economic order to ‘consent to it’, narratives justifying this order would certainly make it easier for individuals to ‘more actively’ embrace it. We can then talk of active consent that we can define as a positive attitude/ evaluation towards certain features of the socio-economic order. If I say that ‘the state is good and necessary’ or that ‘capital and inequalities are necessary for development’ then I am actively consenting to those things. In the same manner ideologies might create dissent for certain features of society by highlighting its negative sides and contradictions. So, if I say that capital is an exploitative system creating inequality, I am essentially expressing my dissent for this aspect of social reality. Now one might wonder, can we speak of active consent or dissent for the socio-economic order itself ? Although I would answer this question positively, such consent or dissent would have to be framed in the same manner within the mind of the individual. That is to say that the individual must have a conception of the socio-economic order (even if under another name) as a whole entity, and then evaluate this as such. Only if this is the case can we then speak of active consent or dissent to the socioeconomic order. This type of consent/dissent therefore presupposes some abstract political philosophy that conceives of society as a whole, not simply ‘the bits we encounter’. It is likely that individuals will have such an abstract conception of society and thus consent/dissent, but again, we cannot know this beforehand, so we cannot assume such a construct must exist in the minds of all individuals. Even though we are all philosophers, some of us have more speculative minds than others. Finally, comprehensive ideologies play an essential role because leading groups propagate them. In fact, earlier we argued that the social commentary

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and the vision serve the purpose of creating support for the practical means proposed by the party. Comprehensive ideologies represent the means through which hegemonic leadership is asserted by one group over others. Without a comprehensive ideology no historic bloc unifying the conceptions, needs and aspirations of different strata can be created. Thus, comprehensive ideologies are a necessary component for hegemonic leadership. It is therefore necessary to propose a comprehensive worldview seeking to address the needs and aspirations of other groups. We have said that although ideologies have to do with leadership, once those ideas are translated into laws, they become dominant insofar as their obedience is enforced through the state’s concrete authority. Nevertheless, a group that becomes dominant after gaining state power must continue leading and persuading. Otherwise, this power they have gained will be taken away from them. Thus, our dominant group must keep up its propagation of comprehensive ideologies, while also trying to form active consent for the laws and policies it has previously enacted. Although their ideologies do not dominate us, the laws that were enacted by following their prescriptions must now be respected and obeyed. In a sense, ideologies can be said to crystallise themselves into laws. They stop being simple ideas and become normative guidance for action that must be respected. However, their origin and form are to be found within the context of previous ideological struggles.

Base and ideology A given mode of production creates the surroundings, objects, relations, and contradictions individuals are faced with at a given time. In this sense, it has ontological priority over other aspects of reality. We have said that under capitalism, the development of the productive forces is employed to further surplus accumulation. From this we obtain three results: 1. uneven development in the capacities of producers, 2. inequality in terms of consumptive power (money), 3. unemployment in certain industries where machinery has replaced human labour. Those three consequences can be understood as the economic settings of a given historic situation. Depending on the context, we will have certain groups whose capacities are hindered due to their place within the social division of labour and whose means of consumption are particularly low in comparison to others. We will also find that certain groups have recently been made redundant by the development of machinery. This can all be considered as the objective raw materials on which ideologies are elaborated. In fact, we can assume that certain material interests would develop from those economic settings.30 Although we cannot define those interests a-priori, we can assume that they depend on the general economic settings. A group might have an 30 Those are also the settings through which further social problems and conflicts might develop.

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interest in the development of industry x because this industry has been recently destroyed by foreign competition. Another group might grow frustrated at the low wages its labour brings about, and so on. Our analysis of Gramsci’s relations of force was then meant to highlight the different moments in which groups come together to pursue a common material interest. However, those interests will not remain purely material, as our comprehensive ideologies will seek to transform them into broader political interests. Our groups are not simply economic units, they are philosophers with worries, values, and beliefs. Thus, although certain groups might have the same interests on a purely economic level (e.g., all work within the same industry), their wider interests and aspirations can be different. This is where our comprehensive ideologies can make their most important contribution. As we have seen earlier, comprehensive ideologies can translate the material interests of individuals into broader political interests. This is simply done by connecting their economic interest with other aspects of social reality our groups feel strongly about. Now the problem of satisfying material needs is indiscernible from the solution of broader social issues. In the minds of our groups, the comprehensive ideology appears as a coherent and unified narrative providing answers to their material, social and political interests. They are conceptual frameworks through which our material settings are understood.31 Material need x must be conceived in relation to social issue y, this is how our ideology explains this. Therefore, the ways in which groups understand a given context will depend on the comprehensive ideologies propagated to explain it. Now we can understand why Gramsci dubs the economic base the ‘permanent/organic’ and ideology as ‘occasional/conjunctural’. The contradictions and needs that form our economic settings depend on permanent relations of production. We were able to describe (although in an abstract way) the key features of those settings because they are automatically created by the relations of production themselves. If we analyse capitalist relations of production, regardless of their specific historic period, they will always produce uneven development, inequality, and unemployment. These can be said to be the universal features resulting from capitalist production. On the other hand, political and ideological struggles can only be contextual and conjunctional. We cannot predict how these problems will be conceived by our groups, because we cannot predict what frameworks will be employed to understand them and what solutions will be proposed to solve them. This ideological struggle is never set in stone. It must always be analysed empirically and then related to underlying economic settings. 31 The underlying assumptions of comprehensive ideologies could be (whether consciously or unconsciously) internalised by our groups and individuals. So that from them they can gain a political philosophy through which they can then explain salient social phenomena themselves.

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Hegemonic crises Earlier we discussed the essential features an ideology must have if it is to be persuasive and believable. For a comprehensive ideology to be successful in persuading it must present all those features. This also entails that the more comprehensive an ideology is (the more issues, interests, and values it addresses), the higher the chances it will be believed. However, here is the catch. If a comprehensive ideology seeks to satisfy the interests and needs of too many groups, like an army attempting to cover as many territories as possible, it runs the risk of spreading itself too thin. Now we have many groups under one ideology, but group A is involved because of elements x and y (which address this group’s interests), while group B is only interested in element z. In other words, if an ideology becomes too broad, different groups might share it for completely different reasons. This produces a gap between the interpretations of this ideology by various groups. Gramsci notices this problem when discussing the Catholic Church. He argues that the discrepancy between different interpretations of Catholicism might lead to ‘a rupture which cannot be cured’.32 Religion seeks to unify very different social groups through the same worldview, meaning that different groups might hold different interpretations of the same faith, even though they all conceive themselves as Catholics. As Gramsci shows, the church must try to solve this problem, and it generally does so by imposing a certain common sense on everyone and hindering some from developing a more elaborate and sophisticated conception. The church must do this because otherwise this lag between the different conceptions might lead to ruptures and catastrophic schisms between social groups subscribing to the same broader religion. This can also be applied to comprehensive ideologies, and we can summarise this idea through the concept of relative lag. The relative lag expresses the differences in conceptions between groups subscribing to the same comprehensive ideology. The term lag, in this case, refers to the differences or contradictions between those conceptions. The broader the ideology, the more this lag might increase. The larger the gap, the less homogeneity and unity there will be among groups under the same ideology. This fragmentation can then lead to hegemonic crises of leadership. Factions might start fighting one another over interpretations, and our leaders are paralysed because they do not know which groups they should drop from their narratives, and which ones should be kept. Thus, we can conclude that the relative lag between groups believing one comprehensive ideology is likely to lead to political fragmentation and crises of leadership. Earlier (p. 185) we also saw that hegemonic crises might result from the fact that individuals perceive that the social commentary and vision proposed by comprehensive ideologies are not translated into practice. In other 32 Gramsci, A. (2014) vol.1, pp. 1383–1384.

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words, people realise there are inconsistencies between what parties preach and what they actually do. This appears to me to be an essential component in the development of hegemonic crises for leadership. A final element that I believe can contribute to crises for leadership, is what we might call the absolute lag. The absolute lag can be defined as the tendency towards understanding new economic and social issues through the lenses of past conceptions of the world.33 In this context, the term lag is meant to convey the fact that conceptual frameworks employed to understand the social world often cannot keep up (especially under capitalism) with changes within the economy. Those changes are not ‘willed’ by individuals but rather arise naturally as a total product of their activities. Since the base always develops without us necessarily realising it, we are often not able to develop the conceptual frameworks needed to assess/understand this development. Instead, there will be a tendency to look at those new phenomena through the lenses of past conceptions. The absolute lag might have deep repercussions for the development of the economy due to its effect on the two superstructural phases. In fact, if the conceptual reaction to economic issues is framed through outdated conceptions of the world, it leads to their misinterpretation. This misunderstanding will in turn be carried over to the phase of state action. The laws and policies proposed are outdated and cannot solve those problems. So even if parties truly wanted to solve a problem, this lag makes it impossible. They simply do not have the conceptual means to deal with it. This incapacity to create new constructs could also be considered as an important element contributing to crises of leadership. During periods of crisis, the development of folkloristic narratives explaining problems through superstition, religion, or conspiracy, might become more appealing to individuals than the comprehensive ideologies propagated by our leaders. Thus, although folklore represents an incoherent and disjoined conception, it must always be considered when dealing with hegemonic efforts to persuade individuals to accept a given ideology. Folklore will always represent an alternative voice, one that might be listened to when we have lost our trust in all other voices.

The phantoms of their brains We have argued that comprehensive ideologies have to do with leadership. This makes ideologies future orientated by necessity. So, there must always be a vision and a means to make this vision become reality. However, the conceptual framework employed by our groups will always tend to be based on previous ideologies. The absolute lag makes this necessary. If we were not to 33 Although some intellectuals might be able to create new frameworks to understand those issues, the lag remains absolute as long as those new frameworks are not actualised through laws and policies.

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do this, we would not have any clue how to interpret our current situation.34 The weight of past ideas on new forms is also emphasised by Marx in ‘The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte’: The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living. And just when they seem engaged in revolutionising themselves and things, in creating something that has never yet existed, precisely in such periods of revolutionary crisis they anxiously conjure up the spirits of the past to their service and borrow from them names, battle-cries and costumes in order to present the new scene of world history in this time-honoured disguise and this borrowed language.35 The reason for this employment of previous language and concepts is not solely necessary due to the absolute lag, but also because the ideas and symbols ideologies proposed, must be connected to the habits and thoughts of the electorate. As we said earlier, comprehensive ideologies try to appeal to the interests of various social groups. Those interests will in turn be determined by their intellectual and cultural history, which is ingrained in their minds through the support of certain ideas and values, through their appreciation for certain charismatic leaders of the past, etc. Therefore, ideologies must always try to incorporate past elements to connect with the habits and interests of their electorate. If we do not present all those objects and values our groups have been cherishing for generations, how are we going to persuade them to follow us on our journey towards a better future? After all, as James taught us, new things become interesting once they are connected to things that are already interesting for us. And what is more interesting to groups than tradition and culture?

34 Note that this is (of course) also true regarding the present work. After all, am I not constructing a theory to understand the current situation through the works of authors that are long gone? The phantoms of Marx and Gramsci inhabit my brains now. 35 Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1979) pp. 103–104.

Conclusion

This work tried to address the following question: What are the roles of ideology within the reproduction and development of the social and economic order from a Marxist perspective? Yet, as soon as we began answering it, we ran into trouble. What is a Marxist perspective? We said that within this context, it should be conceived as Marx’s materialist theory of history. However, there are so many interpretations of this framework, that we could not try answering our question in a satisfactory manner without addressing the controversies surrounding Marx’s materialism itself. Furthermore, potentially every reading of this theory would also be accompanied by a different definition of ideology internal to it. Our first claim in relation to the debate surrounding Marx’s materialism and ideology was somewhat controversial in that we argued that Marx never presented a theory of ideology, only a materialist method for studying history. However, we also said that implicitly within this method lay a theory of formation of ideas from material practice. We tried to prove this through a reading of salient passages supposedly presenting Marx’s theory of ideology. In all cases, we tried to show that Marx was employing his materialist method along with the implicit theory of formation of ideas. We then tried to prove that commodity fetishism is compatible with Marx’s earlier analysis of The German Ideology and conceived that it is an application of Marx’s general theory of formation of ideas to the capitalist mode of production. Armed with Marx’s theories we then approached our new task of creating a theory of ideology through the works of Gramsci. Through our reading of the Notebooks, we developed our definition of ideology as well as explaining its various functions within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. This was done by combining his insights into hegemony and the base/superstructure dichotomy. In the final chapter we introduced concepts from Bourdieu and James as well as further developed the previously elaborated notions. While the consent and naturalisation of the socio-economic order were articulated through the habitus/field dichotomy, we employed James’ conceptions of belief and interest to explain the key characteristics ideologies must have to be believed, as well as the translation of material interests into political interests.

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Conclusion

While the main purpose of this work was to create a theory of ideology, we also attempted to reconstruct a defensible interpretation of Marx’s historical materialism seeking to avoid any simple ‘economic reductionism/determinism’. Indeed, we tried to frame key Marxist concepts such as the mode of production and the base/superstructure dichotomy in a manner that did not entail any ‘teleology’. As we stated in the introduction, our conception of ideology was indeed central in attempting to conceptualise Marx’s method in a way that was open to the existence of contingencies and unpredictable developments. Another important aim of this book was to remedy against critical thinkers’ passive conception of the subject as a ‘cog in the machine’. Through our reading of Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks, we developed a conception of the individual as a ‘philosopher’, while agents’ practical behaviour and belief acquisitions processes were explained by reference to concepts borrowed from James and Bourdieu. Yet there is much I was not able to discuss in this book. First, there are various debates and controversies within Marxist theory I was not able to address. For example, the schism between structural and humanist interpretations of Marxism was only briefly mentioned during our analysis of Ricoeur. Another key debate omitted was the one between ‘technological determinism’ and ‘political Marxism’. This concerns the nuances of Marx’s materialism. Indeed, while Marx often seems to give a more prominent role to the technological development of the productive forces when explaining historical development, other times the emphasis is on the relations of production and consequentially the struggle between classes. This led to another ‘schism’ between commentators giving primacy to the former (‘analytical Marxists’ such as Cohen and Elster) and those arguing for the primacy of the latter (‘political Marxists’ such as Brenner and E. M. Wood). I must admit that given those shortfalls, our attempt at systematising Marx’s thought is far from complete. Indeed, what was presented here could be considered as the ‘bare minimum’ necessary to develop a theory of ideology. The same goes for our conception of the social subject. While we tried to provide a basic framework to understand the relationship between individuals, their consent to the socio-economic order and ideology, the notion of the social subject proposed can at best be considered a sketch. Indeed, almost nothing was said about the relationship between agents and social structures, the relationship between deliberation and habits, thought and practice and so on. Another topic omitted was the implications of the present theory for socialist movements today. Furthermore, the conception of the state presented in this work is minimal and underdeveloped. The state has only been considered in relation to the role of ideology within the reproduction and development of the socio-economic order. Many interesting debates and discussions regarding the role of the state and its relationship to dominant classes have been omitted (e.g., the Poulantzas/Miliband debate and Jessop’s notion of the state). While I believe those to be extremely important subjects for discussion, they are too complex issues to be discussed within the present pages.

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There are also issues with our reconstruction of Marx’s materialism. While (it appears to me that) the general theory of mode of production (discussed in Chapter 2) and theory of formation of ideas could (in principle) be applied to various historic periods, the theories of hegemony and base/superstructure elaborated in this book only make sense within the context of capitalism. Indeed, the clear-cut distinction between domination within the economy and superstructural domination would make no sense in societies where the state organises production. The same goes for our interpretation of the base/superstructure dichotomy which presupposes an electoral system with universal suffrage, and a consequent interest in the persuasion of subordinate groups. It is likely that force and repression were the main means through which the material interests of subordinate groups were ‘addressed’ under previous modes of production. It might be possible to ‘tweak’ the proposed frameworks in order to deal with other historic periods, but that is not something which could be done within the present book. Nevertheless, it is my intention to address the above lacks in my future works. There are also certain limits to our theory. This is particularly the case for the base/superstructure dichotomy. We argued that the base determines the superstructure through a process by which material interests of groups are translated into laws and policies through ideology. However, it might be the case that ideologies (and consequential state policy) mostly address issues which are not material (e.g., pressing religious or cultural matters). It is also possible that subordinate groups’ material interests are ignored by parties’ ideologies, as well as the opposite: the material interests of dominant classes might be ‘restrained’ and concessions might be made to subordinate groups (this might be the case in periods of crisis where the socio-economic order is at stake). It might also be the case that dominant classes sacrifice their material interests for the sake of other political interest/value they want to pursue (Brexit could be an example of this in that a section of the ruling classes is happy to leave the benefits of a single market to achieve ‘political independence’ from the EU). As we tried to emphasise throughout this work, what we have proposed here is a rough framework for the analysis of the social world. The assumptions presented here must be checked against empirical reality, and they might be inadequate for understanding a specific social phenomenon. Historical materialism has been conceived as a theory which seeks to highlight the relationship between economic development and other aspects of social reality such as culture and politics. It is not a theory of ‘everything’. Nevertheless, it is my hope the above analysis will (at least) show our readers the great potential hidden within Marx’s works, as well as persuade them of the fact that historical materialism does not need to be conceived as a deterministic and teleological theory. Whether what I have proposed here is truly coherent, useful, and defensible is for critics to decide.

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Index

‘1859 Preface’ 114–117 absolute recoil 26–27 Adorno, T. 11–16, 59–60 Althusser, L. 73–82 Anderson, P. 159 authority: concrete/structural distinction 162 Bourdieu, P. 194–197 camera obscura 92–94 capital 134–140 capitalism 125–140, 154–156 Castoriadis, C. 34–42 civil society 86–89, 159, 165, 182 class: interests 5, 57, 65, 72–73, 116–117, 155, 172, 197; ruling/dominant 4, 59 61–62, 64, 77, 97–100, 105, 108–110, 121, 184–187, 191–192; social 44–45; struggle 1–2 19, 25–26, 29–31, 36, 44, 57, 72–73, 96, 105, 115–116, 123, 156, 177, 192; subordinate 4, 86, 97–100, 105, 107–108, 113, 121, 159, 181, 184–185, 188, 191, 221; working 12–13, 15, 17–19, 22, 71, 134–140, 158–159, 162–163 Cohen, G. A. 96, 118–119, 130, 142, 147 commodity 125–134; fetishism 65–66, 128–134 common sense 167–170 communism 1, 12, 14–15, 18, 25, 27 competition 4, 22, 30, 32, 163, 215 conception of the world 161, 166, 168–170, 174, 185 conflict 2, 4, 18–19, 25, 33, 44, 87–88, 99, 104, 114–117, 121, 140, 156, 176–177, 187, 201

consciousness 70, 100–103; class 68–73; false 65, 70–71, 81; imputed 71; empirical 70 consent 6, 9, 14, 57, 63, 84, 155, 158–159, 164–165, 182, 185, 194–197, 213–214, 219–220; passive/spontaneous 159, 165 193–194, 195, 208; active 155, 213–214 contradiction: in general 88, 104; under capitalism 139–140 Cox, R. 159 critical theory 5, 11, 52, 203 deconstruction 45–46 Derrida, J. 42–50 determinism 4–5, 12, 33, 36, 53, 55, 220 development 1–5, 7–8, 15, 26, 28–31, 39–40, 45, 55, 58–59, 66–68, 86, 88, 93, 98–99, 103, 105–106, 114, 120–122, 124, 126, 131, 139–140, 148–149, 152, 154, 156, 171, 183, 184, 188, 190, 191, 193, 196, 205–207, 210–215, 217, 219–221 dissent 16, 22, 155, 213 division of labour 103–105 domination 9, 12, 20, 22, 30, 32–33, 51–52, 63, 79, 87, 130–131, 144–146, 152, 159–160, 162–163, 165, 175, 180–181, 186, 190–191, 193, 208–209, 221 Eagleton, T. 60, 72, 76, 79, 93, 82, 105–107, 115–116, 142–143 economic base: 63–64, 114–119, 160–163, 188–192, 214–215 Empire 21 Engles, F. 65 Enlightenment 13–14 epistemological break 75–76

Index epistemology 46 essence and appearances 144–146 exchange 2, 13, 32–33, 69, 121–122, 126–127, 129–134, 142, 144–149, 151–156, 194, 196–197, 205–208 exploitation: in general 98; under capitalism 134–140 Feuerbach, L. 75, 89, 100–101 folklore 167–170 Frankfurt School 11–16 freedom 15, 104, 111, 148–149, 152, 155, 194, 206–208 Geras, N. 144–146 The German Ideology 92–105 Gerstenberger, H. 29–33 Gramsci, A. 157–194 habit 194–197 habitus/field dichotomy 194–197 Hardt, M. 18–21 hauntology 46–48, 50 Hegel, G. W. F. 85–89 hegemonic crises 216–217 hegemony: 159–163, 191; economic 160–163, 208–209; political 180–182, 209–214 Hirst, P.Q. 77 historic bloc 171–172, 189 Holloway, J. 30–31, 33, 53–57, 146–147 Horkheimer, M. 11–16 idealism 94, 100–110, 109 ideas: theory of formation of 122–123; ruling 105, 184–187 Ideological State Apparatuses 76–77 ideological terrain 176–182 ideologist 103–104 ideology: Althusser’s conception of 75–82; and philosophy distinction 170–176; Gramsci’s use of 166–167, 170–173; Larrain’s conception of 108–110; Lukács’s conception of 71–73; Marx’s use of the term 63, 65, 67–68, 82–84, 113, my definition of 178–179 Ricoeur’s conception of 112–113; trends in critical theory 57 intellectuals 163–165 interest: definition of 197–198; common 104–105, material 5, 59, 64, 99, 104, 112, 114, 156, 183, 188–190, 193, 201–203, 214–215; political 201–203

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interpellation 78 inversion 26, 61, 85–86, 88–92, 94, 120, 130–131, 138, 142–143, 152–153, 205 James, W. 197–200 labour/labour power distinction 96 Laclau, E. 157 lag relative 216; absolute 217 language 100 Larrain, J. 82–90, 108–110, 115–116, 144, 159, 170, 208 liberalism 175, 207 Lukács, G. 68–73 magma 36–37 Marx, K. 63–156 Marxism: classical/neo/post distinction: 10–11; orthodox 11–12, 14–15, 16–18, 22, 25, 34–35 materialism: historical 63–67, 91–105, 120–124; vulgar 12, 25, 34 McCarney, J. 83, 116–117, 177–178 means of production: in general 96–99, 120; under capitalism 2, 136, 138, 151, 155–156 metaphysics 45–46 mode of production: in general 30, 33, 63, 94–100, 120–124; capitalist 125–128, 134–140, 151, 154–156, 214–215 Mouffe, C. 157 multitude 20–21 necessity 55, 86, 94–95, 100, 102, 104, 120–123, 132, 155–156, 163, 165, 185, 195–196 Negri, A. 16–24 objective thought form 143–144, 152–154, 160, 173, 204 ontological priority/primacy: 69–70, 120–123 ontology 46 Open Marxism 28–33 overdetermination 74–75 permanent/occasional dichotomy 187–189 political parties 182–184 political philosophy 181–182 Postone, M. 43, 47 practice: definitions of 101; material 64, 77, 100–104, 106, 108, 110, 120, 143,

228

Index

148–154, 160–161, 204; social 30–32, 101–102, 121–122, 146, 161, 163, 204 productive forces: in general 15, 73, 96–100, 107, 114, 120–121, 123, 177, under capitalism 131, 140, 152, 156, 192, 214, 220 Rehmann, J. 77–78, 82–84, 91, 115, 158–159, 167, 143–144, 148 reification 13 relations of force 188–189 relations of production: in general 96–100, 105, 114, 120–122; under capitalism 132–140, 146, 148, 151–152, 155–156, 158–159, 177, 191–192, 205–208 religion 65, 83, 85, 89–91, 93–94, 101, 175, 182, 216–217 reproduction 4–5, 7–8, 13, 32, 38, 54, 55, 57–59, 66–67, 69, 74, 76, 82, 102, 118, 121–122, 154–155, 190, 193, 210–213, 219–220 revolution 6, 12, 15, 25, 114, 149 Ricoeur, P. 82–85, 89–91, 110–114 Rosen, M. 82, 85, 90, 93, 107, 141–142, 147

science 12–15, 31, 38, 51, 54–55, 57–58, 75–76, 79–80, 83, 111–112, 115, 139, 141, 163–164, 166, 168–169 social relations 3, 31, 33, 38, 41, 55, 68–69, 97, 102, 108, 121, 129, 132–133, 145–146, 152 spectre: of Marx 43, in general 46–48, 50 state 4, 12, 17–18, 22–23, 25, 27, 39, 55, 73–76, 86–89, 104–105, 114, 116–120, 123, 159, 164–165, 179–180, 183–184, 186–193, 201, 207, 209–210, 213–214, 220 superstructure 114–119, 179–180, 187–194 surplus: in general 97–99, 118, 120–121; value 134–138, 146, 154, 155–156, 190–207 symbolic, the 37–38 value: exchange 125–134; form 150–115; use 125 Vattimo, G. 51 Williams, R. 93 Zabala, S. 51 Žižek 25–28, 60–62