KARL MARX and the MATERIALIST CONCEPTION of HISTORYOn a cold windswept morning at Highgate cemetery in the march of 1883 a distinguished looking Victorian gentleman stepped up to a newly dug graveside and said:
‘Just as Darwin discovered the law of development of organic nature, so Marx discovered the law of development of human history; the simple fact, hitherto concealed by an overgrowth of ideology, that mankind must first of all eat, drink, have shelter and clothing, before it can pursue politics, science, art or religion.’
This represented the culmination of a life dedicated to the analysis and definition of the dynamic element within the social structure that makes change not only possible but historically inevitable; something, which for Marx and the class he chose to represent, would help bring about the event they most desired – a socialist revolution.
As to why there were such profound political implications implicit within this new theory of history, let us return to Engel’s speech as he elaborates on what later became known as ‘Historical Materialism’:‘Therefore the production of the immediate material means of subsistence and consequently the degree of economic development attained by a given people or during a given epoch form the foundation upon which the state institutions, the legal conceptions, art, and even the ideas on religion, of the people concerned have been evolved, and in the light of which they must, therefore, be explained, instead of vice versa, as had hitherto been the case’
In other words this scientific analysis of history could finally give the exploited class the theoretical weapons with which to confront the moral/religious ideology of the ruling class which served to justify their status. More than this it might even provide the ‘how and when’ to expropriate the expropriators since, as Engels continues:
‘But that is not all, Marx also discovered the special law of the motion governing the present-day capitalist mode of production and the bourgeois society that this mode has created. The discovery of surplus value suddenly threw light on the problem, in trying to solve which all previous investigations, of both bourgeois economists and socialist critics, had been groping in the dark.’
As to how Marx came to make these momentous discoveries and to what political use he put them let us now leave that sad March day and visit a young Karl as he struggles to come to terms with his German philosophical inheritance.
In 1837 Marx had enrolled in the Berlin University and during an illness he decided to study Hegelian philosophy ‘from beginning to end’. This was the beginning of what was to become an epic confrontation with the creator of a system where the Prussian state was considered the highest embodiment of reason. In contrast to this, for the young Marx the state represented a deadening censorship that sought to prevent the expression of new ideas. In fact the subjects of the Prussian state were deprived of any participation in political life outside of the official bureaucracy where admittance was gained only through an ideological examination and that this was:‘nothing other than the bureaucratic baptism of knowledge, the official recognition of the trans-substantiation of profane knowledge into sacred.’
Marx explained this superstitious deification of the state in the Hegelian system as being due to the reversal of subject and object:
‘He made into a product, a predicate of the idea, what is actually its subject. He does not develop his thought from the object, but rather he develops the object according to thought which is complete in itself and in the abstract sphere of logic. He relates the political constitution to the abstract idea thus completing the mystification.’It was at this time, as a result of his study of Hegel together with other philosophies and comparing their systems with his own experiences, that Marx began the development of his ‘Materialist Conception of History’. This was to culminate at the time in the publication of the ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of the State’ and ultimately in the ‘Manifesto of the Communist Party’ itself. But it was not only in its refutation that Marx owed much to Hegelian philosophy but also in the subversion of its structural techniques including, most famously, the dialectic. In pre-Darwinian thought many idealist philosophers sought to explain the phenomena of change in dialectical terms – the resolution of opposites (thesis and antithesis) through their synthesis. In a more contemporary way we might say that change consists of the combination, dissolution and recombination of elements in an ascending series, which create an ever more complex arrangement. Historical context, therefore, can be defined as a certain stage within this process. Marx used this in his polemic by describing capitalism as the thesis and socialism as its antithesis, which would resolve itself historically by the synthesis of revolution. This idea was to evolve into a powerful component of socialist consciousness not just because it countered reactionary ideology but it also, perhaps equally importantly, refuted the utopian socialists. It maintained that socialism depended on the advanced productive evolution of industrial capitalism as much as idealistic revolutionary zeal because:
‘No social order is ever destroyed before all the productive forces for which it is sufficient have been developed, and new superior relations of production never replace older ones before the material conditions for their existence have matured within the framework of the old society. Mankind thus inevitably sets itself only such tasks as it is able to solve, since closer examination will always show that the problem itself arises only when the material conditions for its solution are already present or at least in the course of formation.’
Furthermore, in previous revolutions:
‘Men make their own history, but they had not made it as they pleased; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past.’
Socialism would represent the final synthesis of class antagonisms (the dynamic of history) and so:
‘The prehistory of human society accordingly closes with this social formation.’
Having thus forged a theory of history Marx turned, as we do now, to the political implications of the discovery – practical revolutionary tactics.
The ‘Manifesto of the Communist Party’, first published in 1848, is nothing less than a handbook for socialists on how to apply the theory of historical materialism to the political needs of the revolutionary proletariat of that time. Given that the ‘material conditions’ for the existence of socialist relations of production had not yet then matured within the framework of capitalism the manifesto recommends measures that would ‘increase the total of productive forces as rapidly as possible’. These measures resolve themselves primarily into the state ownership of the means of production; it is, however, important to emphasise that Marx did not believe this to constitute some form of socialism but merely make it possible. As he states in the introduction to the German edition of 1872:‘The practical application of the principles will depend, as the manifesto itself states everywhere and at all times, on the historical conditions for the time being existing, and, for that reason, no special stress is laid on the revolutionary measures proposed therein…this programme has in some details become antiquated.’
The very essence of the materialist theory of history militates against a rigid dogma of political tactics – a fact that always undermined both the Russian and Chinese claims to a ‘socialist programme’. At the time for real socialists, and now in retrospect for many other commentators, this was seen as just a pseudo-marxist rhetorical smokescreen in an attempt to preserve the new ruling classes’ power. And furthermore:
‘The working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes.’
The state must be transformed into a social institution of administration controlled democratically by the whole community because:
‘The emancipation of the working class must be the act of the working class itself.’
And not, therefore, due to the actions of a political elite as claimed by Lenin, Mao and Castro amongst many others before and since. Socialism for Marx was defined as the last class synthesis of the pre-history of human society, which would be characterised by the common ownership of the means of production and its democratic control. The new relations of production would proclaim ‘ from each according to his abilities – to each according to his needs.’ This revolution would not be:
‘The rebellion of the old style, the street fight behind barricades…has become antiquated. The time is passed for revolutions carried through by small minorities at the head of unconscious masses. When it gets to the matter of complete transformation of the social organisation, the masses themselves must participate, must understand what is at stake and why they are to act.’
And conclusively:
‘We know that consideration must be paid to the institutions, customs and traditions of various countries, and we do not deny that there are countries, such as America and England, where the workers may obtain their goal by peaceful means.’
Over one hundred years later how does history itself judge the theory of historical materialism? It is undeniable that the socialist revolution it predicts has yet to occur; indeed the world has been convulsed by two world wars as the workers have turned their backs on international comradeship and slaughtered each other in the economic interests of their respective ruling classes. Marx would have regarded this as not only a betrayal of all that he and his comrades had worked for but as essentially politically and historically irrational. Perhaps therein lies a clue as to why socialism still eludes us; because while Engels was describing the essential economic basis of the human needs which underpin the historical process at the funeral, an obscure Austrian psychologist was just embarking on a career which would eventually attempt to explain the irrationality within mankind. It was to focus on that other essential component of biological survival – sexuality. Subsequently some sixty years after those events at Highgate Cemetery, a socialist philosopher named Herbert Marcuse would proclaim that the failure of man to achieve socialism did not imply the failure of the historical theory but merely pointed to its incompleteness – something he sought to redress using Freud’s psychoanalytical techniques.
REALITY
There are at least two statements about reality that cannot be seriously disputed:
i) reality is an idea, and
ii) it claims to be something more and something other than ‘just an idea’.
Reality is a concept that claims to transcend the world of ideas; it has an existence independent of consciousness. Given that most ideas make some claim to a relationship with the world we experience, why does this one exert such a seductive power on us despite its obvious paradoxical nature?
Politically speaking some use it as an excuse for not trying to change things while others, like socialists, need to understand it specifically to change it. In all political debates the perceived division between idealists and pragmatists is continually expressed. For many of us reality is a depressing life of exploitation which stands in stark contrast to the proposed vision of society offered by socialism. But is that kind of social structure mere idealism or is it the prison of our working lives which is sustained by the ideological illusion of a single reality?
One attempt to define reality centred on the search for an unchanging essence within the objects that make up our world. Metaphysics attempted to comprehend the real, to grasp the truth and to witness the good. In its later synthesis with Christianity it became the search for God. Dualistic philosophical tradition liked to define it by what it was not: it did not change, it was not an illusion and, most importantly, reality could not in itself be evil because it was the creation of God. There is an echo here of a much more ancient duality concerning structure and chaos which lies beneath the classical conception of truth and falsehood and Christianity’s good and evil. Evil, in some traditions, is defined as the ignorance of the truth – an illusion (false God) that prevents access to reality. We hate what we fear and we fear what we don’t understand. But what was ‘understood’ in this Christian context was the metaphysical belief in an unchanging ‘human nature’ which in great part was confirmed by the fear of the historical developments that engulfed the Christians during the reformation and beyond. The Christian ideological schisms of the 16th and 17th centuries created an ever more desperate need for a realm of unchanging moral values and, revealingly, a source of absolute power (God).
Karl Marx was very interested in the nature of power and how it manifested itself historically; usually quite differently from the way it was explained within the ideologies of the power groups concerned. His theory attempted to trace the origins of political power and the social classes that have wielded it through history. It is more than an attempt as Engels and others seem to imply, to use the methodology of the natural sciences to understand human history because history itself can be used to explain science in its ideological and social context. Science, in many ways, did not destroy religion as a way to legitimise political power, it merely replaced it (although some extreme reactionary regimes like the U.S.A. and Iran still use religion in this way). One of the reasons for this ideological dethronement is because science has become the contemporary language of ‘reality’.
So what does the scientific enterprise tell us about reality; and what do the politics of today’s power structures tell us about science? Physics and biology both have surprisingly little to say on the subject. There seems to be a great variety of speculation based on the experimental data. For instance, quantum theory can offer us a choice between the ‘uncertainty principle’ which implies that the universe is essentially an unknowable paradox created by the nature of the relationship between mind and perception; or it provides us with infinite parallel universes where every quantum possibility exists simultaneously. In biology we are experiencing a metaphysician’s ‘wet dream’ at the moment as the holy grail of genetic determinism is pursued with crusading zeal. It looks as though this search will end in a similar place where the physicists now repose, exhausted beside their over-heated particle accelerators after yet another unsuccessful attempt to find the definitive sub-atomic particle.
All of this tells us much about the motivations of the ideology that lies behind the scientific project itself. For all its failures in defining a coherent concept of reality it is still the dominant arena for our culture’s attempts to understand and so control nature. This reflects the hierachial authoritarianism of the social structure of capitalism. A scientist is a potential member of a social elite; he or she has undergone the training that allows their ‘baptism’ by the agents of the power-brokers of our society – in this case the scientific establishment. This group has in turn received its authority from the ruling class via government grants or company sponsorships. Without this patronage science could not and would not exist in its present form. All of which leads us to a more certain source of reality – money.
Along with fear, pain, death, hunger and love no one would deny that the need for money constitutes a reality; and yet most of us are aware that the notes and coins we use are in themselves worthless. Money is, in fact, merely a contract between buyer and seller which promises the seller that he can redeem the value of what he has sold to the buyer. No other human promise carries as much confidence within it as this one does in our culture. We might swear on a stack of bibles or give up our loved ones as hostages and still fail to create the confidence inspired by hard cash. Why is this? Simply because all of the world’s power structures are focused primarily on enforcing this financial contract. If any doubt arises concerning this law of exchange it causes chaos that leads to economic depression and, for the parasite class, the ultimate horror of a loss of profit.
So once again the quest for reality resolves itself into an idea; but an idea that derives immense power from a universal cultural consensus. This consensus is continually reinforced by social power structures such as the World Bank, I.M.F. and the W.T.O. but it was not created by them. Marx has said that men make history but they make it only within historical constraints. The bourgeois revolutions became possible because of the changing mode of production which made the feudal power structures inappropriate. The English Revolution of 1642 was in most part generated by the capitalist class’s need for a free market system to replace the royal court government’s monopoly production rights. Money replaced land as the economic basis for access to the new ruling class – the bourgeois parliament. Thus production for profit became the basis of English law where the means of life could only be secured through money. Historically for some 300 years (compared to feudalism’s 600 and slavery’s 1000 years) capitalism has evolved into the global market system we see today. Once again a similar political situation to 1642 has arisen where the social power structures are inhibiting economic progress. The profit motivated system prevents millions of people in the world from securing the means of life. A new idea has come into existence that challenges the old capitalist cultural structures – socialism. When the majority of humanity believes in this idea then it can transform itself into a social and economic reality. It is the historical relevance of an idea that can make it real because only then can it transform the power structure to reflect the needs of those who sustain the system of their own exploitation. In the end it is, and always has been, political power that defines reality for us all.
IDENTITYWhen discussing socialism with someone who has had little interest in politics we invariably find ourselves confronting their "identity". This is because we all identify, sometimes unintentionally, with certain ideas and values. We may not be aware that we do until we attempt to articulate them in response to another idea asserted by someone else. At a basic emotional level we might take an ideological position because we feel that our status is being threatened by the other personality that confronts us.
The concept we have of our social status is one of the most emotionally charged elements that constitute our identity. It also aligns us politically with the values of a class or a subdivision of a class or cultural group. Other components such as gender, age, sexuality and "race" also play a part in defining identity but only through the lens of group ideology (ideas of masculinity and homosexuality are very different in "blue-collar" and "white-collar" communities).
Indeed the very concept of class itself is received differently as can be seen readily by its relative acceptance by those on a lower income (sometimes erroneously called working class) and its complete denial by those on a higher income (incorrectly called middle class). A friend of mine who resolutely denies that class has any effect on their tastes refuses to attend a "multiplex" cinema to watch a film but is quite happy in the local art-house theatre. When pressed for the reasons why this is so he points to their respective atmospheres; he clearly prefers intellectual pretension to Hollywood popularism and the audiences they generate.
This choice can be interpreted in a class context because of the identification with certain tastes and values and a rejection of others; or to put it more bluntly, a liking for some "types" of people and a dislike for others. This kind of division exists in almost all areas of life and certainly inhibits the political cohesion of the working class being properly understood (since both communities have to sell their labour power to the capitalist class to make a living).
So it can be said that identity, in some important respect, is based on an association of the self with others in a social group and their value system. We may even go as far as to say that the nature of those values is dependent on their association with a group with whom we wish to identify and not essentially on the internal logical structure of the ideology in itself. The motivation for this social/ideological identification derives from our need for social status and the self-respect it supplies.
Paradoxically an example of our need for status to confirm our identity is when we appear to give it away to someone else in the form of exclusive love. During such an event between two people the individual identity seems to depend on the other and this would seem to contradict the cult of the self that so characterises our society.
There is a very revealing and desperate need to escape the prison of our identity in this search for such a liberating synthesis with another. Invariably such a relationship fails because it reveals itself to be yet another example of the attempt to confirm identity through conforming to a social convention to achieve status. The projection of our needs onto another can become so comprehensive because of the socially restrictive context imposed by a competitive culture that it leaves little space for the other to express their needs. The relationship crumbles under the pressure caused by the crowded desires needed for the mutual confirmation of identity between just two people. Sometimes we look to parental love as an example of an escape from status inspired identity but many times this too succumbs when children grow up to deny parental aspirations for the same reasons.
If we are to accept that to an important degree identity is generated by our need for social status must this always be a destructive element within human society? To answer this let's return to our starting point, the political discussion. If we are honest about our desire for status and the respect it gives us from others we have to understand what it is and how we achieve it within contemporary society.
For most of us status is acquired through competition in a capitalist system except for those who inherit it. Those who are regarded as successful manifest their status in the accumulation of material wealth, which in turn enhances their social influence. We may come to dislike these people through envy but who has not daydreamed of having wealth and power? There are those amongst us who have turned their backs on the rat race and devote their lives to helping others such as nurses, carers, charity workers and even social revolutionaries. As a psychologist once said: "political ideology is a kind of love affair", and there's no denying that the identification with a political group is in part motivated by the desire for social status, albeit of alternative nature.
The difference is, of course, that this time it confronts the values of society because by acquiring membership status socialists undertake the formal denial of competition. This can be seen as a positive manifestation of the need for social status because this time it motivates the need for social liberation. It also serves to undermine our culture's insistence that it is only through competition that the human spirit is creative and productive. There is also the possibility that competition is a perversion of human social instincts because, as the psychologist observed, identifying with an ideology shares the emotional liberation felt during the first stages of a relationship—but this time with a community and not just an individual. Once the needs of the individual are identified with the community and not in competition with its members then socialism becomes not only possible but also necessary.
The litmus test for this perspective concerning identity can only be our emotional well-being. Even within the group of high wage earners it is difficult to deny that unhappiness has become something of a plague. For all the inherent frustration of working for socialism it does afford some emotional protection against the pain caused by the loss of a job or the breakdown of a relationship.
Those who believe in a socialist future do not make the same emotional investment in the capitalist present and so have another place to go to when the anxiety endemic in the sick culture in which we live threatens to overwhelm us. The capitalist class and its supporters of left and right hate socialists for their identification with hope and liberation but they can never destroy it because to do so they would have to kill part of their own humanity forever.
LOVE
As with all important human concepts, love is difficult to define. Some have elevated it to be the first principle of what it is to be human. Others suspect it to be superficial and fleeting alongside the other emotions. Its political significance is dubious for many reasons, not least because it is, apparently, possible to love one’s country whilst simultaneously persecuting others for doing the same. Certainly as a 'blind emotion’ it is every bit as dangerous as hate. I have always found it strange that love is considered a legitimate emotion but that hate is not. Surely it is beyond any logic that one could exist without the other. The denial of anger and hatred is as ridiculous as it is deleterious to both physical and psychological health. That socialists hate injustice and prejudice is surely a positive emotion – but what of our feelings towards those who perpetrate cruelty on others for whatever reason? I cannot deny a hatred for such people but is this emotion anymore relevant to the political struggle than the ‘love’ of freedom, justice and liberation?
Are the emotions a help or a hindrance in the pursuit of social revolution? Is the emotional roller-coaster we find ourselves riding primarily a product of the capitalist environment and its multitude of fears and frustrations or an inevitable part of the human condition itself? Can we conceive of a life that is not primarily motivated by our emotions? I suspect many of us would readily give up our fear, hate, anger and jealousy but few would wish to relinquish love. Is there a state that transcends love and hate? Buddhism traditionally regards the emotions, along with almost everything else, as illusory. It seeks to replace emotional duality with a universal compassion, which in the absence of the illusion of the self, is dispassionate. Although socialists share the Buddhist dislike for the selfish individualism that characterises our culture we do celebrate the creative talents of the individual. This together with the mysticism of karma and reincarnation seem, historically, to have weakened the resolve to seek justice in the here and now. It is no accident that, in common with Christianity, ruling classes have embraced Buddhism precisely because of its promise of justice in the next world (or life), not this one.
Christianity, like most religions, gets its power from the emotions. Love, guilt and fear seem to me to be the real trinity within the ideology. The attempt to rationalise the faith by a synthesis with classical philosophy seems now to be merely an anachronistic exercise in intellectual gymnastics. However one cannot deny the lasting power of the concept of ‘God is love’. This transformation of a human emotion into a deity is surely testament to love’s alienation within succeeding private property societies. The whole Christ story, with the exception of the (relatively few) miracles, seems to be in some part a chronicle of a man who dared to be human in an inhuman world. Humanity had become so alienated from itself that a life dedicated to compassion could only be conceived of as divine. Whether you believe that morality has its basis in love or justice, history appears to be amoral – its path decided by those with economic and military power. Christianity was sustained by its promotion firstly by the Romans and then by its namesake, the Holy Roman Empire. Love seems to have played no part in its historical role.
The other important cultural incarnation of our subject is, of course, romantic love. Again it is possible to see the advantages of this belief to the ruling class. If we believe our happiness to depend on one other person exclusively then this search will, like religion, distract us from pursuing social justice. When combined with desire this quest can become obsessive and turns the human need for intimate relationships into something that tends to destroy the social activities, which it tries to replace. That romantic love is a path to human happiness is one of the great myths of our time, sold to us as a commodification of desire.
Another element within the promotion of love and the emotional life to the highest status is anti-intellectualism. The division of labour has served to isolate intellectual pursuits within a kind of elitist ghetto. The esoteric arts of philosophy are alien to most of us and such endeavours can provoke an intense contempt amongst many. It is ironic that we promote physical and emotional fitness but do not train our minds. For all its complexity and linguistic convulsions the rigor of logic and reason aids us in that most important activity of all – communication. Any concerted attempt to comprehend meaning can only serve to strengthen and/or change our beliefs and values. It is the power of reason and imagination that has given our species such an evolutionary advantage. To turn our back on this talent and rely on emotion as our guide is political madness. No one could doubt that Hitler and countless other demagogues were sincere in the love of their country. But when subjected to the analysis of reason, patriotism, like the other components of reactionary ideology, dissolves into the infantile emotions that sustain it. One can legitimately describe the nazi regime as ‘romantic’ because of its reliance on the emotions to sustain the medieval myth of ‘das volk’. When I hear the ‘Red Flag’ sang my emotions are aroused but the hatred of capitalism and the love of socialism are not enough. Without an understanding of history and economics how are we to know what to do to bring socialism about? For leftwing politics the legitimate disgust of capitalism in combination with historical and political ignorance has led to disaster. The support for bolshevism, anarchism and 'labourism’ are all manifestations of the combination of emotion and ignorance. My contempt for President Blair borders on hatred sometimes when observing his anti-working class activities. But reason tells me it is his political ignorance that makes him behave that way. It is obvious that he has no understanding of how capitalism operates in reality because, as he himself says, he relies on moral instinct to do ‘what is right’.
We must always be vigilant of, and candid about, the emotional motives for our behaviour (politically and personally). But if we are intellectually too lazy to subject our beliefs to the analysis of reason we betray our humanity. The love of justice is not enough to implement it – we have to understand how to as well as why to.
DEATH
The cornerstone of the Marxist theory of history (materialist conception) concerns itself with the basic economic needs of humanity. It contends that the process and context of humankind’s procurement of the means of life is the basis of all cultural activity. The means and mode of production make everything else possible and so their historical context defines any given culture. This is also the case for all living creatures since life itself depends on the synthesis of energy (food and light) – whether or not other species have ‘cultures’ is debatable. However it is indisputable that life depends on the procurement of energy and so, therefore, must posses some mechanism to make this possible. I do not speak here of locomotion or cultivation but of the basic biological system that distinguishes between, and recognises, external and internal stimuli. We eat because we are hungry, sleep because we are tired and react when we are in pain etc. All life, then, is motivated by, and reacts continuously to, stimuli. This is obviously why humanity engages in economic activity and so it can therefore be considered a rational social endeavour. But could it be that sometimes to successfully respond to two different stimuli is impossible because they are mutually incompatible? And is this, in some part, responsible for irrational human behaviour?
The observation of some other species makes these behavioural contradictions obvious. Reacting to the sexual stimulus (desire) puts many species in direct conflict with the individual’s need to avoid pain and death. Spiders and some insects quite often die at the ‘hands’ of their mates after sex. Many mammals have to fight to secure a mate risking injury and sometimes death. Human desire is no less powerful than the need for food and shelter. How, then, does this stimuli affect the other biological needs that motivate economic activity and so define history and politics? Does it sometimes come into direct confrontation with them as it does in other species? Marx himself had nothing to say on this subject but some have believed that human sexuality lies at the root of irrational human behaviour. How else are we to explain why his theory of history is so successful in all areas except the most important one – the prediction of a socialist revolution?
Before we are ready to know whether reacting to mutually exclusive stimuli does indeed sometimes lead to irrational behaviour in humans we need to define a successful response. If we examine three human activities like eating, sex and work, is there a shared behavioural response that indicates success? After a good meal contentment is felt because the stimulus (hunger) is removed and a kind of ‘stasis’ is temporarily achieved. After orgasm there is a similar cessation of tension. When work has fulfilled its purpose and been received by others as appropriate and competent then the tiredness is pleasurable. All of these states of mind share a contentment and emotional calm. If this condition were indeed defined by an absence of stimuli then logically death (or at least its psychological approximation) would seem to be the goal of life. In some way might it be the longing of the animate entity to return to its inanimate origins? Perhaps sentience itself exists to continually recreate the illusion of death for the organism to thrive? A paradox worthy of any Zen masters’ attention. Now let us look at what happens when there is a failure to deal successfully with powerful stimuli.
Human sexuality is always complex. The child’s relationship with its parents is paradoxical from the start. It needs the mother to satisfy the stimuli for feeding and safety. We know that it also has sensual (infantile sexual) needs as well. When this is expressed in inappropriate behaviour a conflict with the parent is created (because of the moral and educational values of the adult). The child then experiences contradictory needs and is unable to deal successfully with stimuli. The resulting frustration can lead to emotional tantrums and destructive behaviour. For anyone to thrive in an authoritarian culture such as ours he or she has to learn to suppress the sexual instincts. However as we have seen these stimuli are as strong as the need to survive and can never be destroyed. They can be deflected (sublimated) by other activities such as sport, art or politics but very often the infantile need for destruction survives as well. Could it be that this urge to destroy is an unconscious reflection of the desire for the death that the successful reaction to stimuli approximates, but which has been denied to the individual?
We have seen that the result of a successful reaction to stimuli is a quiet mind free of tension. If this is unobtainable, say because of the meaningless alienated labour that capitalism demands, then the tension just keeps building. All of the energy that should be used to deal with stimuli finds no focus or outlet and instead fuels frustration and anger. Such negative energy can express itself in conditions such as depression, obsession and violence. All of these can be interpreted as other ways of simulating death. Depression deprives the victim of the motivation for any action. Obsessive behaviour clings to the quest of the unobtainable so avoiding meaningful activity. An act of violence symbolises the destruction of life. A religious or political ideology can sometimes use this destructive energy by focusing hatred on the ‘other’. Xenophobia, nationalism, racism, sectarianism, militarism and the hatred of the weak are all present in reactionary political theories. The ‘other’ is blamed for the inadequacies within the hater’s life. This is because the contradictions of the capitalist system are not recognised but internalised. Your therapist, priest and parents will tell you that your unhappiness is all your own fault. You need to change, not the system – that’s just an impossible dream.
Socialist consciousness recognises the system for what it really is; the inhuman exploitation of man by man, which causes alienation between and within all mankind. No organism can survive without simulating death. Life can only cope with the unending stream of stimuli by ‘realising’ this. Marx’s theory of history was not wrong but incomplete. The dynamic of social change, the creator of the dialectical forces, is not only the mode of production and the class struggle it generates but life and death itself. Liberation and freedom (the life force) depend on their antithesis – death.
HISTORY and PROPAGANDAThere’s probably more history published today than ever before. As with every genre sold as a commodity most of it is of little value. At its very best history is one of the most important of all disciplines. It seeks to present a narrative explaining not just who we are and how we got here but also why we use these very concepts to understand ourselves. A chronicle of events is of little interest without interpretation; and it is through this that an analysis has any chance of achieving significance. The interpretation of motivation is seen as important in understanding events but their significance can only be calculated by the effect on later generations. Often the motivation for action is given to be this or that hoped for effect on later generations. This was part of the stated aim of many historical figures including Caesar, Napoleon and Hitler. It is dubious whether they were successful in achieving such aims but what cannot be doubted is the need of the support of thousands, sometimes millions, of others to even make the attempt. It is in this support that the real social power resides – Hitler’s rise was no less dependant on the treaty of Versailles and the wall street crash than on any characteristics he may or may not of possessed. The ideological values, which evolved within the German state that made millions believe they needed ‘a strong leader’, should be the focus of any historical analysis of the third Reich. The origin of social power and its relationship with, and expression by, individuals, groups and the masses is the real business of historians.
The conventional definition of history (as distinct from prehistory) is the study of the written record from and about the past. It is no coincidence that this record begins during the so-called ‘Neolithic revolution’ when mankind was making the transition from a hunter-gatherer society to that of the private property city-state. Such settlements were made possible by the discovery of sustainable crop growing and animal husbandry. This not only brought an end to the nomadic lifestyle but also dramatically changed the social relationships that went with it. The production of surplus food changed the basis of power within society forever. It meant, amongst many other changes, that some parts of society were freed from subsistence living to pursue other activities. Foremost amongst these was the development of a warrior elite to protect this surplus from raiding nomads. It was not long before they restricted access to other members of their own settlement. Those who created the wealth were only granted access to the surplus if they produced more of it. In this way social elites evolved, their power derived from the ownership of the wealth created by others. To this day social power derives from a group or class’s relationship with the means of production and the surplus it produces. Many historians would object to this characterisation of social power and would point to theories of morality, justice and reason as explanations of capitalist ‘civilisation’. Such theories ignore the possibility that the origin of these concepts derive from ‘rationalisations’ of social relationships which seek to justify their existence without reference to their historical source. Of course the examination of the ‘mode of production’ as a way of understanding historical development is identified with ‘Marxism’. To attempt to dismiss it as mere political propaganda is to ignore the ideological content within any historical perspective. Although Marxist historians can with some justification claim that at least their bias is conscious, does this mean that all history is propaganda (conscious or not)? To answer this lets examine those who create history – historians.
Most of us do not have the time or resources to become historians. The intellectual division of labour within our culture means that most of them are created by and financially dependent on universities. Living in Cambridge I have encountered many through the years. They are immersed in a life of study and intellectual rigor with usually only their peers to provide debate and criticism. Specialisation (knowing more about less and less) gives them the right of interpretation. A memorable conversation with a noted scholar on the crusades provides a sense of this. When asked about the motivation of the leaders of the first crusade he replied he believed it was an attempt at redemption. Europe’s knights hoped that their God would forgive their violent life style if they ‘liberated’ the holy land. This was so reminiscent of many historians who believed that Lenin, Mao and Castro were socialists because they proclaimed themselves to be so. The sincere motivation of an individual does not give us any understanding of the origin of the concepts involved or their acceptance by those whom are led into any action. The English revolution was not dependant on Cromwell’s belief in an obscure Jewish prophet who lived some 1600 years before. Likewise the English reformation was not caused by Henry VIII’s lust for a young Anne Boleyn. Napoleon was quite possibly not the inheritor of ‘the age of reason’ he supposed himself to be. The distinction between any proclaimed ideology and the actions of those who profess it seem lost on many historians. Perhaps it is because they themselves are immersed within a deeply ideological culture – from public school to university the cult of individualism is universal. How could it be otherwise within one of capitalism’s oldest establishments? The elitist ethos is the cornerstone of any authoritarian social structure like ours. I use this to illustrate how ideology permeates historical interpretation. As stated earlier Marxists do the same in a more conscious manner. But can we ‘prove’ that some historical interpretations are of more value or even of more significance than others?
Why are socialists disgusted but not surprised by the activities of Bush and Blair any more than we were by the crimes of the Bolsheviks and their fascistic ‘soviet union’? Because an analysis of history based on an understanding of the relationship between the mode of production and the values and concepts that it creates can only come to one conclusion: men make history but only within the constraints of their historical context. Blair may proclaim himself to be ‘new labour’ but what is new about worship at the alter of the ‘free market’ to answer all of capitalism’s problems? Can a moral crusade against one’s enemies that means the murder of thousands of innocent people be considered ‘new’? Neo conservatives use the same failed ideological excuses as their 18th century counterparts to maintain their wealth and status. Despite all of the socialist rhetoric the Bolsheviks and their subsequent purges and militarism was symptomatic of all regimes that orchestrate the transition between agrarian feudalism and industrial capitalism. China’s ‘cultural revolution’ had infinitely more in common with the ‘terror’ of the French revolution than it did with the Paris commune. We know this to be so because of the lack of a majority to oppose such actions of the elite (and indeed to be complicit to make them possible). Today it is still this lack of historical knowledge that makes it possible for our rulers to continually repackage their reactionary ideology using the media and helped in no small measure by historians. Fukyama, Starkey, Sharma and countless others have and continue to propagate capitalist ideology through their history.
Good history is an ideological battleground. Two people present at the same event can give opposing interpretations of its meaning and significance. Most of us were not present and are not historians but we have a political duty to decide which perspective is more likely in the light of our own experiences. Our future depends on the understanding of our past. But always remember that although David Irving is rightly condemned for his ‘holocaust denial’ many on the left were equally guilty of ‘gulag denial’.
TERRORISM and POLITICAL VIOLENCEIt has become a commonplace to declare that ‘one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.’ But has violence ever been an effective political tool and, if it has, is it still? The American ruling class has declared ‘war on terrorism’ in an attempt to legitimise their own use of political violence around the world. Whichever side one supports it would be illogical to deny that both are indulging in an identical activity. The question therefore arises as to whether mankind’s political problems are ever resolved through military conflict. Is there evidence to support this belief in its terrible efficacy?
It is possible to trace the history of warfare back to the origins of private property in Mesopotamia, Egypt and the Levant some 5,500 years ago. The initial raising of armies to defend the agricultural surplus from raiding nomads soon became used to attack other city-states. The once elected warlords evolved into permanent Kings whose main role became the protection of their class’s power and wealth. The first imperial regimes emerged together with those who struggled against such oppressive empires. Those who opposed any established power regimes have been demonised by their enemies ever since. It is these ‘resistance’ movements who have used political violence (terrorism) in an attempt to destroy and replace existing (usually) imperial regimes. We will not discuss the historical logic of the violence between states but this is where the seeds of internal political conflict are invariably sown. That the subsequent ‘terrorists’ are almost always armed and trained by a state is well documented and we will not concern ourselves with the hypocrisy of such regimes who attempt to demonise their own students when they turn on their teachers. History has given a very mixed reception (usually dependant on their success) to these heroes or criminals: Sparticists, Thugees, Dog Soldiers, Boxers, Mau-Mau, Assassins – the list is endless. Since violence was used to impose political regimes, many have concluded that it is only through such conflict that they can be destroyed. Before we attempt to analyse whether history backs up this logic let us take a detour to try and understand why our culture is so immersed in the cult of the warrior and the belief that violence can resolve human problems.
Ever since Homer’s tales of the heroic deeds of the Greeks at Troy western culture has been saturated with a military ethos. We cannot imagine Mallory, Shakespeare, Cervantes or Fennimore-Cooper without Lancelot, Macbeth, Don Quixote or Hawkeye. Such is the central place it occupies in our story telling that we can hardly conceive of drama itself without a conflict of some kind within the narrative. As we have seen, the very origins of private property produced a warrior elite who subsequently became a ruling aristocracy and it this class who were the patrons of the creators of culture. Given the moral dualism of Christianity it was not difficult for the rulers to characterise their opposing city, or later, nation states as evil. War became described as a struggle between good and evil – the relevant designations were, of course, dependant on which side you were on. Human culture is such that it has replaced nature as the main influence on the forming of our minds and values. After six millennia of warfare the idea that it still represents a way to resolve problems is still an insidious part of our culture – not because, as we shall see, it has proven to be so but because the ruling classes need us to believe in it. As proof of this let us consider the outcome of the longest and most bloody conflict of the last century between two of Europe’s ruling classes – Britain and Germany.
It is still a matter of great debate who actually started the war of 1914 –18, some say it was provoked by France to recover territory lost during the Franco-Prussian conflict whilst others believe it an inevitable consequence of Germany’s need for an empire. What is not disputable is that the opposing economic interests of the ruling classes concerned were vital in their decision to go to war. As we have discussed they utilised the martial cultural traditions of their nations to convince the populations to slaughter each other. History shows that nothing was resolved by the allied ‘victory’ of 1918 because, as a direct consequence of the imposed terms of the German surrender, the whole thing erupted again in 1939. Again millions died, but did it end with the defeat of Nazism? The Russian Empire was formed out of the division of Europe after 1945, as was much of the ‘third world’ where they and the U.S. fought out the ‘cold war’. Even today we still endure the consequences of the two world wars where the victors redrew the world map according to their interests – Palestine, Iraq, Yugoslavia, Chechnya, etc. All we can be say about the world, as a direct result of war is that the ruling class of one nation state replaces another. Clearly this is not why those who fought the war did so, thus we can say with some legitimacy that war has not resolved the problems it was (at least in propaganda terms) supposed to. Can we also make this claim for the results of terrorist campaigns?
Many leaders of movements for ‘national liberation’ (terrorists) have subsequently become part of the ruling class they once fought. Israel, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Northern Ireland and many others now enjoy the fruits of their murderous campaigns. But what has become of the promises made during the struggle? Most who killed and were killed did so in the belief that they were creating a better and more just society than the one they lived in. In the case of Zimbabwe and South Africa things seem to have become worse in many respects. The exploitation and murderous repression of the Palestinians has plunged Israel into a nightmare of endless violence. The Irish seem incapable of resolving the internecine power struggle within their own ruling class. So again it would appear that violence has failed to deliver a better life to those who indulged in it and suffered from it. Why? One obvious reason is the inability of humankind to learn from its history. An understanding of history is far and away the most important component of any political consciousness. Before any course of political action is undertaken we must make an effort to understand how the world came to be the way it is. A motorcar cannot be repaired without some knowledge of how it works and no amount of moral outrage and violent action will resolve the problem. War and its bastard progeny we call terrorism, together with the regimes both have brought into the world, are the problem and not the solution.
Socialists have always opposed both violent struggles for ‘national liberation’ and the ‘legitimate’ wars fought between nation states. We see that causing more of it cannot attain an end to the suffering in the world. War and all organised violence can only be stopped when it is rejected by those who alone must fight it. The ruling class and their media, political ideology, establishment history and all the other paraphernalia of the capitalist propaganda machine can never acknowledge this because to do so would illegitemise the origins of their own power, and one of its most profitable industries in armaments manufacture. As to the other myth they peddle concerning mankind’s inherent violence we can only look within ourselves for the answer. If you sincerely believe in the efficacy of violence to solve your own and the world’s problems then you not only deny the evidence of history but you should seriously consider therapy.
