YKTMX
23rd June 2009, 22:17
Hey,
Thought I'd write something to deal with my depression/boredom.
Have a read!
Cheers,
Callum
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Marxism is a philosophy of action – or an anti-philosophy philosophy. That is, it gains its internal coherence as a philosophic system only when it opposes itself to other philosophic systems that are purely contemplative. It rejects the naturalization of society that takes place in bourgeois ideology in favour of a dynamic conception of the nature of reality and accords a positive, transformative role for the subjects that constitute and experience that reality. The social life-world (the constellation of social phenomena that make up bourgeois society: hierarchy, exploitation, domination, war etc, etc.) is transformed, in Marx’s thought, from the ‘given’ absolute that is eternal and impervious to the ravages of historical time to an unfolding process that can be shaped by consciously directed human action. As a note, it always a mistake to characterise Marxist philosophy as pertaining to the patterns of history – rather the opposite is true, Marxists try to grapple with the disruption of patterns, the epochal moments where the previously unforeseen is normalized and the previously routine becomes anathema. Marx, not Derrida, is the master of Pure Difference.
As such, the explanatory power of Marx’s system appears to be at its peak in epochs of great social change or strife, and its force appears to be blunted in periods of social stability and peace. So the great ‘heights’ of Marxist thought (post Marx) and Marxist praxis occur in the period during and immediately after the trauma of the First World War and, latterly, in the period of crisis that emerged in the 1960’s. In periods of relative strength for the bourgeois order – let’s say at the beginning and end of the 20th century – Marxism is subject to attack from without and “revision” by “critical thinkers” within.
In periods of the first kind (upheaval, massive social conflict) our duty as Marxists is merely (merely!) to try and reflect the social tensions, to give expression to the tendencies reflected in the multiplicity of social and political conflicts that proliferate within them, and to, if we can, direct these events to an outcome that is desirable – global communism…in the last instance.
In periods of the second kind, our duties appear not only more indeterminate (unclear) than in periods of the first kind but also, somewhat strangely, more strenuous, more taxing on our moral and spiritual powers. Not being involved in the revolution is always worse than being involved in one, although being involved in one no doubt presents its own moral and spiritual problems. There is always, as Meszaros puts it, a ‘burden’ to be carried. This burden we feel, or ought to feel, when we are faced with our absolute commitment to a socialist society and the problem of trying to realize it in fact. In moments of social quiet, or social reaction, this burden weighs more and more upon us.
There are (at least) three responses to this dilemma. There is, as always, the possibility for disavowal, even of the fetishistic kind (“I know, but still…). We can simply renounce our commitment to the movement; become apologists for bourgeois society or announce a reluctant retreat. Notice that the first movement (siding with Capital) is not as bad as the Second movement (reluctant disavowal). In the first movement, we simply switch sides in the struggle, unable to cope with the scale of the enemies superiority we side the forces most likely to succeed. (The political direction of Christopher Hitchens is, of course, the prime example here). In the second movement, we don’t disavow “our side” as such; we simply reject the struggle as too burdensome, its chances of success too remote. We don’t join the other side; we just leave the battlefield – possibly for a job in a University. We admit defeat, but we are bitter. (This is the response of many of the post-68 generation.)
The second coping strategy is to seek refuge in the ‘long run’. That is, we retreat into a purely mechanistic/theological conception of the world in which all injustices, all acts of oppression, and all the other sins of capitalism are relativized by a conception of History that announces the inevitability of our eventual Redemption. Here, of course, two great thinkers who appear in most cases to be in opposition, Walter Benjamin and Kautsky, converge. In Benjamin, the moment of Revolution, the Messianic event that Deliver us from our monstrous History, is key. In Kautsky, History itself is presented as a Messiah-in-waiting. All we need to do is wait for its final moment, its conclusion, when its Truth, always-already latent in its “objective” processes, is finally revealed. It can even be measured – 51% for the SPD in a free election in Germany.
The third strategy is too retreat from History as such – this is the reaction we might associate most commonly with “autonomist” brands of Marxism. If, as Keynes said, “in the long run we’re all dead”, our goal should not be to “shape” History but to radically transcend it. Our struggle is not with Capital as such but with ourselves. The movement is mainly a self-relating one – it is one in which we are transformed, which in turn has hope of transforming the world. The struggle is against Labour and therefore against Capital, in Holloway’s terms. It is only through a thoroughgoing rejection of the life-world of capitalism that we have any hope of overthrowing it – although overthrowing capitalism is here recast as almost “incidental” to the moment of self-emancipation. In this sense, moments of “social reaction” are almost irrelevant to the question of ‘what is to be done’. The ‘what is to be done’ is always the same and the answer is…find your own answer. Find a way which best expresses your private opposition to Capital and you will begin the journey of moving beyond it.
All three strategies have their problems and their attractive feature. Rousseau said that man was naturally lazy, and the first strategy expresses the truth of that observation. Sometimes we do wish, to borrow a cultural metaphor, that we had taken the ‘blue-pill’. The life of a revolutionary is a difficult one. Feelings of hopelessness and despair are part of the deal – although moments of great joy and satisfaction are also to be found. Capital demands that we see ourselves as atomised individuals, of whom the world expects and demands nothing except passive obedience. And obeying a Master is almost always the easier, least dangerous option to disobeying him. It is always an attractive prospect to support the winning team and, as things stand, the other team has all the resources it needs and we have almost none. But ultimately the first strategy is revealed as not being a strategy at all – that is, it isn’t directed towards anything. Merely expressing a moment of pure defeat, it confronts us as something pathetic and not profound. The ‘sense of justice’ that brought us onto the battlefield forbids us from leaving it with our tail between our legs. We know that the world as it stands is not only a place in which collective salvation is necessary but where individual fulfilment is impossible – except in the sphere of collective salvation! To reject the Revolution in search of some greater good would be to renounce the means by which any greater good can be realized. It would be self-defeating, in other words.
The second strategy is, I suppose, the favoured one. It has power for great consolation. It absolves us of all responsibility for our Historical destiny and yet it reassures us that we can be certain of the ultimate vindication of our views. In the end, I will be proven right! Sadly, it delivers less than it promises, because it is precisely at the moment where we renounce responsibility for the achievement of our goals that we render their realization impossible. There is no “and yet” to History. Either you-we-I change the world or the world will not be changed, at least not by us, in directions we would favour. Capital does not flinch when posed with its own reflection – it does not make ethical judgements, or judgements of historical purpose, or commitments to the survival of the species. The only judgements it makes are those of marginal revenue, cost-benefit, price etc. It will not simply “step aside”. It couldn’t if it wanted to. There is no mechanism by which it can voluntarily self-destruct – it’s like Arnie at the end of Terminator 2 – it cannot self-terminate. There is no Messiah, no moment of inevitable Redemption that we huddle around the fire and wait for.
The third strategy is very appealing for those who (rightly) reject the first two. It offers us a Way Out and it offers us it now! We could all simply move to Chiapas, or, better yet, create our own interstitial entities and subvert Capital’s logic in the here and now. In some sense, I have started to come to this conclusion myself. But there are severe problems with it.
I might reflect on them another time.
*important change to 5th paragraph
Thought I'd write something to deal with my depression/boredom.
Have a read!
Cheers,
Callum
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Marxism is a philosophy of action – or an anti-philosophy philosophy. That is, it gains its internal coherence as a philosophic system only when it opposes itself to other philosophic systems that are purely contemplative. It rejects the naturalization of society that takes place in bourgeois ideology in favour of a dynamic conception of the nature of reality and accords a positive, transformative role for the subjects that constitute and experience that reality. The social life-world (the constellation of social phenomena that make up bourgeois society: hierarchy, exploitation, domination, war etc, etc.) is transformed, in Marx’s thought, from the ‘given’ absolute that is eternal and impervious to the ravages of historical time to an unfolding process that can be shaped by consciously directed human action. As a note, it always a mistake to characterise Marxist philosophy as pertaining to the patterns of history – rather the opposite is true, Marxists try to grapple with the disruption of patterns, the epochal moments where the previously unforeseen is normalized and the previously routine becomes anathema. Marx, not Derrida, is the master of Pure Difference.
As such, the explanatory power of Marx’s system appears to be at its peak in epochs of great social change or strife, and its force appears to be blunted in periods of social stability and peace. So the great ‘heights’ of Marxist thought (post Marx) and Marxist praxis occur in the period during and immediately after the trauma of the First World War and, latterly, in the period of crisis that emerged in the 1960’s. In periods of relative strength for the bourgeois order – let’s say at the beginning and end of the 20th century – Marxism is subject to attack from without and “revision” by “critical thinkers” within.
In periods of the first kind (upheaval, massive social conflict) our duty as Marxists is merely (merely!) to try and reflect the social tensions, to give expression to the tendencies reflected in the multiplicity of social and political conflicts that proliferate within them, and to, if we can, direct these events to an outcome that is desirable – global communism…in the last instance.
In periods of the second kind, our duties appear not only more indeterminate (unclear) than in periods of the first kind but also, somewhat strangely, more strenuous, more taxing on our moral and spiritual powers. Not being involved in the revolution is always worse than being involved in one, although being involved in one no doubt presents its own moral and spiritual problems. There is always, as Meszaros puts it, a ‘burden’ to be carried. This burden we feel, or ought to feel, when we are faced with our absolute commitment to a socialist society and the problem of trying to realize it in fact. In moments of social quiet, or social reaction, this burden weighs more and more upon us.
There are (at least) three responses to this dilemma. There is, as always, the possibility for disavowal, even of the fetishistic kind (“I know, but still…). We can simply renounce our commitment to the movement; become apologists for bourgeois society or announce a reluctant retreat. Notice that the first movement (siding with Capital) is not as bad as the Second movement (reluctant disavowal). In the first movement, we simply switch sides in the struggle, unable to cope with the scale of the enemies superiority we side the forces most likely to succeed. (The political direction of Christopher Hitchens is, of course, the prime example here). In the second movement, we don’t disavow “our side” as such; we simply reject the struggle as too burdensome, its chances of success too remote. We don’t join the other side; we just leave the battlefield – possibly for a job in a University. We admit defeat, but we are bitter. (This is the response of many of the post-68 generation.)
The second coping strategy is to seek refuge in the ‘long run’. That is, we retreat into a purely mechanistic/theological conception of the world in which all injustices, all acts of oppression, and all the other sins of capitalism are relativized by a conception of History that announces the inevitability of our eventual Redemption. Here, of course, two great thinkers who appear in most cases to be in opposition, Walter Benjamin and Kautsky, converge. In Benjamin, the moment of Revolution, the Messianic event that Deliver us from our monstrous History, is key. In Kautsky, History itself is presented as a Messiah-in-waiting. All we need to do is wait for its final moment, its conclusion, when its Truth, always-already latent in its “objective” processes, is finally revealed. It can even be measured – 51% for the SPD in a free election in Germany.
The third strategy is too retreat from History as such – this is the reaction we might associate most commonly with “autonomist” brands of Marxism. If, as Keynes said, “in the long run we’re all dead”, our goal should not be to “shape” History but to radically transcend it. Our struggle is not with Capital as such but with ourselves. The movement is mainly a self-relating one – it is one in which we are transformed, which in turn has hope of transforming the world. The struggle is against Labour and therefore against Capital, in Holloway’s terms. It is only through a thoroughgoing rejection of the life-world of capitalism that we have any hope of overthrowing it – although overthrowing capitalism is here recast as almost “incidental” to the moment of self-emancipation. In this sense, moments of “social reaction” are almost irrelevant to the question of ‘what is to be done’. The ‘what is to be done’ is always the same and the answer is…find your own answer. Find a way which best expresses your private opposition to Capital and you will begin the journey of moving beyond it.
All three strategies have their problems and their attractive feature. Rousseau said that man was naturally lazy, and the first strategy expresses the truth of that observation. Sometimes we do wish, to borrow a cultural metaphor, that we had taken the ‘blue-pill’. The life of a revolutionary is a difficult one. Feelings of hopelessness and despair are part of the deal – although moments of great joy and satisfaction are also to be found. Capital demands that we see ourselves as atomised individuals, of whom the world expects and demands nothing except passive obedience. And obeying a Master is almost always the easier, least dangerous option to disobeying him. It is always an attractive prospect to support the winning team and, as things stand, the other team has all the resources it needs and we have almost none. But ultimately the first strategy is revealed as not being a strategy at all – that is, it isn’t directed towards anything. Merely expressing a moment of pure defeat, it confronts us as something pathetic and not profound. The ‘sense of justice’ that brought us onto the battlefield forbids us from leaving it with our tail between our legs. We know that the world as it stands is not only a place in which collective salvation is necessary but where individual fulfilment is impossible – except in the sphere of collective salvation! To reject the Revolution in search of some greater good would be to renounce the means by which any greater good can be realized. It would be self-defeating, in other words.
The second strategy is, I suppose, the favoured one. It has power for great consolation. It absolves us of all responsibility for our Historical destiny and yet it reassures us that we can be certain of the ultimate vindication of our views. In the end, I will be proven right! Sadly, it delivers less than it promises, because it is precisely at the moment where we renounce responsibility for the achievement of our goals that we render their realization impossible. There is no “and yet” to History. Either you-we-I change the world or the world will not be changed, at least not by us, in directions we would favour. Capital does not flinch when posed with its own reflection – it does not make ethical judgements, or judgements of historical purpose, or commitments to the survival of the species. The only judgements it makes are those of marginal revenue, cost-benefit, price etc. It will not simply “step aside”. It couldn’t if it wanted to. There is no mechanism by which it can voluntarily self-destruct – it’s like Arnie at the end of Terminator 2 – it cannot self-terminate. There is no Messiah, no moment of inevitable Redemption that we huddle around the fire and wait for.
The third strategy is very appealing for those who (rightly) reject the first two. It offers us a Way Out and it offers us it now! We could all simply move to Chiapas, or, better yet, create our own interstitial entities and subvert Capital’s logic in the here and now. In some sense, I have started to come to this conclusion myself. But there are severe problems with it.
I might reflect on them another time.
*important change to 5th paragraph