Log in

View Full Version : On "Asiatic Mode of Production"



Kiev Communard
23rd December 2010, 19:04
Here I present to you certain recollections from one of the modern Marxist scholars working on agrarian history and pre-capitalist social formations in general - Jairus Banaji. In his book, "Theory and History", the link to which I've posted here (http://www.revleft.com/vb/showpost.php?p=1966592&postcount=14), he tries to reconstruct the social history of pre-capitalist modes of production, introducing new concepts and offering the critique of some conventional ideas on those societies. In that abstract he is dealing with the notion of "Asiatic mode of production" and its derivatives. If somebody is interested in it, I'll post the remainder of the chapter later. Until then, good read!






A Marxist characterisation of ‘Asiatic’ régimes

It goes without saying that ‘Asiatic’ is a misleading description on several counts, not least for its Orientalist baggage. It is retained here to project continuity with Marx’s discussion of the Asiatic mode and to expand on a central theme in Oriental despotism, namely, the peculiar absence of a ruling class that emerges organically from the depths of society and achieves sufficient stature to control and dominate the state.

The tradition that influenced Marx in the 1850s (long before he read Kovalevsky) maintained that ‘Asiatic despotism’ lacked ‘intermediate and independent classes’ between the sovereign and the mass of the subject population,[65] or, more realistically, that the aristocracy, such as it was, was a creature of the sovereign and completely unlike any equivalent group in Europe.[66] What the ‘unbroken despotism of the Eastern world’[67] had ‘lost respect for’ (!) was of course the ‘right of property, which is the basis of all that is good and useful in the world’, as Bernier exclaimed in a hugely influential description of Aurangzeb’s empire.[68] ‘Bernier correctly discovers the basic form of all phenomena in the East – he refers to Turkey, Persia, Hindostan – to be the absence of private property in land. This is the real key even to the Oriental heaven’, Marx famously told Engels in a letter dated June 1853.[69]

Bernier was, of course, aware of the existence of a nobility in the Mughal state. ‘It should be borne in mind, that the Great Mogol constitutes himself heir of all the Omrahs, or lords, and likewise of the Mansebdars, or inferior lords, who are in his pay’, he wrote, adding, ‘and, what is of the utmost importance, that he is proprietor of every acre of land in the kingdom, excepting, perhaps, some houses and gardens which he sometimes permits his subjects to buy, sell, and otherwise dispose of, among themselves’.[70]

‘The King being proprietor of all the lands in the empire, there can exist neither Dukedoms nor Marquisates; nor can any family be found possessed of wealth arising from a domain, and living upon its own patrimony ;no family can long maintain its distinction, but, after the Omrah’s death, is soon extinguished’.[71] In other words, the amirs, or Omrahs as he called them, lacked any significance because, unlike the nobility in France, they lacked the stability of a hereditary class. Yet Bernier was willing to acknowledge that the jagirdars enjoyed ‘an authority almost absolute over the peasantry’,[72] a nuance Marx ignored in reducing Asiatic régimes to the bipolar simplicity of a mass of village-communities on one side and an all-powerful sovereign on the other.

From the Asiatic to the tributary mode: Marx, Haldon and beyond

This bipolar model of isolated village-communities and an all-powerful state fails as a description of ‘Asiatic’ régimes for at least three substantial reasons. To take the least interesting of these first, Marx’s characterisation of isolated and self-sufficient village-communities was drawn from English accounts of the early nineteenth century that were both embroiled in actual controversies regarding the best kind of revenue-system to introduce in various parts of India and far removed from the reality of most Indian villages, which were scarcely the ‘little republics’ Sir Charles Metcalfe imagined them to be.[73]

Certainly, the self-sufficiency of the Indian village was a myth. ‘There was nothing more remarkably autarkic about the Indian by comparison with the European village.’[74] Indeed, the ‘scale, range and penetration of exchange relations in urban and rural Mughal India were so extensive’ that they are simply incompatible with Marx’s description of the Asiatic mode of production. And Athar Ali makes the point that Marx’s village-community model ‘could hardly apply to the Ottoman Empire and Iran which has no caste system to supply a hereditary, fixed division of labour’.[75]

A second, more substantial reason for rejecting the way Marx construes the Asiatic mode is that it is simply not true, as Richard Jones claimed and Marx himself implied, that ‘the Asiatic sovereign [had] no body of powerful privileged landed proprietors to contend with’,[76] and that the régimes of ‘Asiatic despotism’ lacked any significant types of class-formation. In fact, it should be possible to argue that a comparative political economy of Asiatic régimes, or of the tributary mode of production on which they were founded, is best constructed along the kinds of ruling class that the sovereign had to contend with and the historically distinct ways in which the relationship between ruler and ruling class was configured. This is something I shall attempt, briefly, below.

Third, and finally, Marx’s handling of the claim that (in Jones’s words) ‘Throughout Asia, the sovereigns have ever been in the possession of an exclusive title to the soil of their dominions’,[77] or, as he himself put it, the claim about the ‘absence of private property in land’ (a notion which made its way into the draft pages of Capital, Volume III),[78] was thoroughly uncharacteristic for the uncritical way in which he simply repeated the core doctrine of the Orientalist tradition with no further penetration of the issue.

The point here is not that Asiatic régimes (Muscovy included) were not typically defined by their own doctrines to the effect that the entire territory of a sovereign was in some sense his or her property but that this claim took very different forms in different régimes, was asserted to unequal degrees and, most crucially from a Marxist perspective, was largely a legal or political fiction or at least is best construed as such.

Thus in China, Twitchett states that ‘Traditionally, all the lands of the empire were considered theoretically as belonging to the emperor, but by the beginning of the T’ang dynasty there was a strong and ever-increasing movement towards the recognition of the right of private possession of landed property’.[79] The T’ang ‘seem simply to have accepted the growth of such great holdings and recognised the principle of private ownership of land. …But in law the the rules of the chün-t’ien [land allotment] system remained in force and the doctrine of the emperor’s ownership of all land remained unquestioned’.[80] There could scarcely be a better expression of the largely doctrinal nature of the ruler’s claims.[81]

Roughly analogous to this was the position under the Ṣafavids, when, as Lambton argues, ‘the theory of the ruler as the sole landowner did not receive in practice complete and unqualified acceptance ;in practice private persons enjoyed full rights of ownership over land’.[82] Again, in the Mughal case, Athar Ali suggests that ‘The doctrine of state property could seldom be distinctly enunciated, in view of the lack of its reconcilability with Islamic law’.[83]

In Byzantium, as Oikonomidès points out, ‘The state was the largest landowner of all. To it belonged all the land that was not owned by private individuals or institutions’.[84] Thus, here the principle existed in a much less absolute form, and Aleksandr Kazhdan was always in a minority among Byzantinists in his view that ownership of all land vested in the emperor. The one ‘Asiatic’ régime where the doctrine was asserted in its purity was the Ottoman Empire, the primordial instance of Oriental despotism and the closest ‘Eastern’ parallel to the autocracy of the Muscovite state.[85] Needless to say, the actual arrangements under which land was held were more complex and subject to variation, and what really impressed travellers to the East, both in Turkey and in Russia, was the peculiar servility of the ruling class, a theme I shall come to in a moment.

Yet even these broadly comparable autocracies reflected so-called ‘state-property’ in radically different ways. As Richard Pipes says, ‘The Great Princes of Vladimir . . . regarded their realm as their votchina, that is outright property’.[86]

Muscovy was the purest example, historically, of a patrimonial régime, one in which there was no notion of a public order distinct from the rights and claims of the sovereign, so that the kingdom was literally the ‘personal patrimony of the prince’.[87] The Islamic model was a very different one, by contrast. Conquered territories were retained in the public ownership of the Muslim community,[88] and the underlying principle was that ‘public revenues should be spent in the interests of all [Muslims], not of rulers or privileged groups’.[89] This was a legal fiction, of course, and one that allowed for developed notions of private property in land.[90]

Having said this, there is in Marx’s fascination with the absence of private property in land an important clue to a different mode of production from that which came to define a small if dynamic sector of Europe in the middle ages. Marx himself was clearly reluctant to accept ‘feudalism’ as a sensible or historically accurate characterisation of large parts of the world where class relations and production were structured so differently. It was the peculiar dominance of the state that set these régimes apart from Western Europe, and, of course, Marx expressed his aversion to the idea of an all-encompassing feudalism in the excerpts from Kovalevsky’s book which he made in 1879.91 There is no dearth of reference to these famous passages.

It is clear that by the 1870s, when he read Kovalevsky he had abandoned his earlier view about the government as the original owner of all the land, denouncing its doctrinal character and the role it played in legitimating the dispossession of indigenous communities by the French (in Algeria) and the British (in northern India).[92] ‘The lousy “Orientalists” etc., have recourse in vain to the passages in the Koran where it is said of the earth that it belongs “to the property of God”’, he comments acerbically, after noting, ‘[There is] no trace of conversion of the entire conquered land into “domanial property”’ in the Multequa-ul-Ubhur of Ibrahim Halebi (d. 1549), the massive legal compilation that formed the basis of Ottoman law.[93] This was a major shift of perspective but one which Marx never theorised in the sense that he seems never to have returned to the Asiatic mode of production and may just have quietly buried it.

The crucial difference between the abstraction of an Oriental despotism founded on the possession by the sovereign of an ‘exclusive title’ to the soil (Marx’s Asiatic mode of production) and the more densely textured and complex picture that emerges in the notes from Kovalevsky is the completely fictitious idea, in the orientalist model, that ‘Asiatic despotism’ was marked by an absence of classes between the sovereign and the mass of village-communities. In reading Kovalevsky, but also some of the sources he used, Marx would have realised how distant his formulation of the Asiatic mode was from the actual history of countries such as India where, in Kovalevky’s description, much of the conflict centred on the aspirations of the muqṭa‛s (Kovalevsky’s iktadars) to make their assignments of revenue or iqṭā‛s ‘hereditary and independent of the sultan’. (The reference here is to the thirteenth-century Delhi Sultanate.)

…Kovalevsky described a form of class-struggle that pitted ruler against ruling class and (in his pages on the Mughals) the gradual consolidation of a subversive rural aristocracy, the zamindars, whose relation to the state had always been fraught with tension. This, for Marx,was not feudalism of any variety but nor could it have seemed even remotely comparable to the way he and Engels had construed the Asiatic mode of production in the 1850s.

Lenin’s characterisation of Russia as an ‘Asiatic state’ [95[ and Trotsky’s repeated insistence on the ‘peculiarities’ of Russia’s historical development[96] are, I suggest, best understood, in materialist terms, as the expression of a historical dynamic and of class-relations founded on a mode of production that was neither some exotic variant of feudalism nor, certainly, an inert replica of the Asiatic mode. But ‘If not feudalism, or the Asiatic mode, then what?’, as Terry Byres asked, with evident bafflement, when summarising a collection of papers on the theme in 1985.[97] The tributary mode of production now looks to me like the best contender for a Marxist characterisation of ‘Asiatic’ régimes and has both attracted support from leading currents in the Spanish historiography of al-Andalus and been discussed at length by John Haldon.[98]

The strength of Haldon’s analysis is the focus on imperial states, late Rome and Byzantium included (these, strangely, were never discussed by Marx, who showed little interest in late antiquity), and the perception that ‘tributary’ is a much better characterisation of these states and their economic régimes than the description of them as ‘feudal’. But Haldon jeopardises this insight by suggesting that the distinction between ‘tax’ and ‘rent’ is purely formal since they are both charges on peasant-labour, or ‘modes of surplus appropriation’ as he calls them, so that feudal and tributary economic régimes are ultimately simply variants of a common (and, indeed, universal precapitalist) mode of production.

This makes little sense to me historically (as to Marx as well) and differentiates Haldon’s understanding of the tributary mode sharply from that of his Spanish colleagues, for whom the whole point of a different characterization is to retain the historical peculiarities of (in their case) Islamic economic régimes (the economic régimes bound up with the military expansion of Islam) in contrast to developments in most of Western Europe.[99]

Unlike Haldon, and with Pierre Guichard and Manuel Acién, I believe it is crucial not to minimise the historical difference between European feudalism and Asiatic-style economic régimes (this vindicates Marx) but unlike Acién and his use of the expression ‘Islamic social formation’, the historical complexity of the tributary mode is, I feel, best restored to it by abandoning the positivist distinction between ‘modes of production’ and ‘social formations’ (in fact, in Acién the distinction is residual, since he speaks of ‘social formations’ tout court)[100] and speaking instead of the possible ways in which a mode of production can be configured historically. Capitalism is a good example of this sort of historical complexity, as I suggested earlier, but so, in fact, is the tributary mode, as I shall now try and show.

Ruler and ruling class: configurations of the tributary mode

The tributary mode of production may be defined as a mode of production where the state controls both the means of production and the ruling class, and has ‘unlimited disposal over the total surplus labour of the population’.[101] This is bound to strike many Marxists as an anomalous formulation, but that is because the theoretical issue here is one that has hardly ever been discussed in historical materialism, chiefly because Marxist debates on the nature of the state have focused very largely on the capitalist state, framing the issue in terms of the state’s autonomy and thus starting from the presupposition that state-power and class-interests are analytically distinct.[102]

But formulations like Miliband’s ‘partnership of state and capital’[103] will simply not work for tributary régimes, where, as Trotsky understood in his brilliant pages on the peculiarities of Russia’s historical development, the Muscovite state shaped the evolution of the possessing classes in a fundamental way and quite unlike anything seen in the West.[104] Trotsky himself preferred to speak of the ‘incompleteness of Russian feudalism, its formlessness’.[105] This, like the recurrent image of Russia standing ‘between Europe and Asia’,[106] left the issue of theory open.

The ‘profound differences between the whole of Russia’s development and that of other European countries’[107] was a challenge for historical materialism that might well have been met had the circumstances of the revolutionary movement been less fraught with tragedy. But to round off the point I want to make here, even Theda Skocpol when dealing with imperial states such as Russia and China automatically assumes that we can sensibly posit a dominant class that is distinct from the state. To describe the Russian nobility as ‘politically dependent vis-à-vis the Imperial authorities’ is a bizarre understatement for anyone with a sense of the history of the Muscovite absolutism! [108]

In the Grundrisse, Marx treats ‘oriental despotism’ as a form of communal property whose real foundation is the inert multiplicity of stable agrarian communities that ‘vegetate independently alongside one another’.[109] This ‘communal’ mediation of production – of the community as a ‘presupposition of labour’[110] – undermines the separability of the economic from other levels of social reality in any characterisation of precapitalist modes of production, and certainly of the Asiatic mode.[111]

Paul Frölich’s image of a ruling bureaucratic caste superimposed on a peasant economic base (this about China)[112] is not a sufficiently integrated image of the relations of production of the tributary mode, which involved both the control of peasant-labour by the state (the state-apparatus as the chief instrument of exploitation) and the drive to forge a unified imperial service based on the subordination of the ruling class to the will of the ruler. The leitmotif of much of the historical writing on tributary régimes is the paramount importance for the ruler of a disciplined ruling class. The bond between the ruler and the ruling élite within the wider circles of the ruling class was the basis on which new states were constructed[113] and the state itself bureaucratised to create an efficient tool of administration.

The autocratic centralism of the tributary mode and its backbone in the recruitment of a pliant nobility were not just ‘political superstructures’ to some self-contained economic base, they were essential moments of the structuring and organisation of the economy (of the relations of production). Moreover, tributary economies had considerably more vitality than Marx ever attributed to the Asiatic mode. Late Rome in the fourth century, the eastern empire under Justinian, China in the expansive phase of the Southern Sung and Mughal India in the seventeenth century were prosperous powerful states with a vast financial capacity.[114] They were scarcely exemplars of a ‘stagnant Asiatic despotism’. On the contrary, the financial drive was always paramount.

‘The entire government apparatus was built, and constantly rebuilt, in the interests of the treasury’, as Trotsky said about Russia’s state-economy.[115] The late Sasanian, late Roman and Mughal states had staggering levels of monetary circulation which were bound up with the assessment and collection of the land-tax in cash. In some ways, that was even more true of the Umayyads and ‛Abbasids. As for China, ‘the achievements of late sixteenth- and early seventeenth century England….were in many respects even exceeded by the impressive expansion of mining and manufacturing in eleventh-century China’.[116]

To Be Continued...

S.Artesian
23rd December 2010, 22:02
I'm very interested. Thanks.

Kiev Communard
28th December 2010, 17:10
The continuation of Banaji's thesis. Here he deals with the character of the relations between the state apparatus and the mass of members of the ruling class per se, differentiating between late Roman, medieval Chinese, Muscovite and Mughal Indian variants of their interaction.




Max Weber’s discussion of ‘patrimonial domination’ in Economy and Society is a useful starting point because it works, at least implicitly, in terms of the distinction between ‘landed nobility’ and ‘patrimonial officialdom’, or landowner and bureaucrat, land and office, as radically different types and sources of power. It is the variant combination of these ‘elements’, as I shall call them, that structures his description of the leading patrimonial states and even if some of those descriptions are simply wrong or inaccurate, the following discussion of the crucially different ways in which the tributary mode was historically configured retains the distinction and varying articulations of his ‘elements’.

To start with one of Weber’s more schematic and certainly less accurate descriptions, the late Roman Empire is characterised in the striking image of a ‘disconnected juxtaposition of landed nobility and patrimonial officialdom’. ‘In the late Roman empire the increasingly important land-owning class of the possessores confronted a socially quite distinct stratum of officials’, he writes.[117] But the hallmark of the late empire was precisely Constantine’s creation of what Santo Mazzarino called a ‘unitary bureaucratic organism’ based on a fusion between senators and bureaucrats.[118] Constantine restructured the aristocracy to produce a tighter integration of the senatorial clans with the new imperial administration and expand the governing class as a whole by the induction of new elements. And, if Weber’s disconnected juxtaposition remained only partially true of the Western provinces where the senatorial clans had a greater freedom of action and would eventually undermine the survival of the Imperial state, it was the opposite of the truth in the East, where, on the contrary, it was the bureaucracy that threw up a powerful new class of landowners in the main part of the fifth century.[119]

The renewed growth of a Byzantine aristocracy from the eighth century (following the Imperial crisis of the seventh) did not fundamentally modify its sixth-century character as a class that dominated the key offices of state as a bureaucratic élite with substantial landholdings in the provinces. The key difference was that now the more purely bureaucratic element, the civilian aristocracy of Constantinople, remained sharply distinct from the military aristocracy or powerful aristocratic clans based in the provinces.[120] The continuity of these great clans (the Phocades, Maleïnoi, Skleroi, etc.) sets them apart from Bernier’s stereotype of the ephemeral ruling class of Asiatic despotism, but though Ostrogorsky saw them essentially as feudal magnates out to destroy the central power (the theory of a ‘Byzantine feudalism’), it is crucial to see that this ‘now-overmighty landed aristocracy’ remained part of the Byzantine bureaucratic hierarchy in Ostrogorsky’s own expression,[121] and that ‘even for the families most solidly established in the provinces, the emperor’s service was the main means of acquiring wealth’.[122]

The conflict between ruler and individual factions of the (mainly) military aristocracy – especially in the tenth century – was one that typified all ‘Asiatic’ régimes and was a struggle not primarily for control of the peasantry but for power, waged not by a monolithic and unified class of aristocrats on one side against absolutism on the other, but by factions or alliances among magnate families who were themselves divided, and where individual rulers could always count on the support of leading aristocrats.[123] As Cheynet remarks, ‘This aristocracy, which becomes stronger during the following centuries [that is, after the eighth century – JB] … has nothing “feudal” about it, since until the eleventh century, the imperial authorities always controlled it, forbidding its members any real autonomy in the provinces where they resided’.[124] ‘Born out of service to the sovereign, never ceased to be linked to him, even during the period of the Komnenoi’.[125]

If this essentially integrated model of a bureaucratic élite extending its sway over landholding without ever establishing the kind of autonomy that might have effected its emancipation from the clutches of autocracy is one – quintessentially late antique – configuration of the tributary mode, China represents another more purely bureaucratic version. Weber suggested that here, in China, ‘the patrimonial bureaucracy benefited from the even more complete absence of a landed nobility than was the case in [Ptolemaic] Egypt’,[126] but this is simply not true.

As Naitō Torajirō argued in a series of brilliant pieces contemporary with Weber, the evolution of a modern-style autocracy in China followed a long period, many centuries, of aristocratic dominance. During those centuries, though China was formally ruled by a monarchy, ‘the monarch was [simply] the common property of the aristocratic class’, ‘merely a representative of the aristocracy’ which dominated the leading organs of the state down to later T’ang.[127] ‘Aristocratic government reached its zenith between the Six Dynasties and the mid-T’ang’, declining in the ‘transitional era from the late Ta’ng to the Five Dynasties’ till its final and rapid dissolution in the turmoil and civil wars between 880 and 960.[128] From the Sung dynasty on (the period Naitō identified as the ‘start of the modern era’ in China’s history), ‘the power of the sovereign developed without limitation’ based on a new class of professional bureaucrats drawn from a much wider social base, who now ‘became the agents of the ruling dynasty’.[129] As Twitchett says, ‘Naitō’s theory was stated in very general terms’. But the ‘general outline which Naitō perceived – largely by intuitive understanding – has stood up remarkably well to the progress of modern research’.[130]

Implicit in the outline is a sequential model where, unlike Byzantium, the T’ang-Sung transition that straddles the same centuries sees a radical restructuring of the ruling class as a ‘small group of extremely powerful lineages’ who had ‘completely dominated the political scene’ and ‘monopolized highest offices of state through their rights to hereditary employment’ are displaced by a ‘new class of professional bureaucrats’,[131] completely different in character from the Kuan-chung aristocracy and other great regional groups and the enduring base of the autocratic régimes that would henceforth rule China into the modern world.

It was the great historian Ch’en Yin-k’o who analysed the class-dynamics of this transition in detail, showing how, during the T’ang, ‘the ruling house, itself a member of the close-knit north-western aristocracy, presided over a court’ divided by a ‘constant tension between the old aristocracy and a new class of professional bureaucrats recruited through the examination system’. ‘The examination system was in his view a means of providing the dynasty with a bureaucratic elite dependent upon the dynasty for its position and authority rather than upon’ lineage and hereditary privilege. [132] ‘When the T’ang fell, not a single one of the regimes of the succeeding Five Dynasties period . . . was ruled by one of the great clans of the early T’ang “national aristocracy”’.[133]

Thus, here, the bureaucratic élite was precisely not the aristocracy but its historical successor, the instrument of a new autocracy, dominated, under T’ang, by a permanent conflict of these very social forces [134] that was resolved increasingly in favour of the officials who had come up through the examination-system.[135] The late T’ang was the ‘beginning of a major transformation of the economy which continued until the Mongol invasion’.[136] The economic expansion of the late T’ang, Five Dynasties, and early Sung period involved such dramatic economic and social changes, and the ‘Chinese economy began to grow at such a rate’, that some historians ‘have seriously suggested that by late Sung times the conditions were ripe for the emergence of a modern capitalist society’.[137]

The vast reaches south of the Yangtze River with their ‘massive infusion of newcomers from the north’,[138] the renewed expansion of large estates now linked to a new, more rapacious class of officials (the ‘scholar-gentry’), the substantial pool of dispossessed labour driven from the land by political turmoil and land-grabbing, with up to seventy per cent of registered households dependent on landlords for their survival,[139] and the role played by the large landed interests in the ‘reclamation of farm lands from river-bottoms, lake-beds, swamps, sandbanks and coastal flats’ with rapid improvements in agricultural techniques and the invention of new implements,[140] were part of the major transformations that lie at the back of the surge of commercial capitalism that swept through China in the Sung period. Cities such as Hang-chou and K’ai-feng [141] were the most populous the world would see for centuries, the former concentrating a population of well over a million in an area of some eight square miles![142]

By the mid-tenth century (in 955), the bells and statues from thousands of Buddhist monasteries had to be ‘melted down and cast into coins to feed the rapidly expanding money economy’,[143] and, by the mid-eleventh, money-taxes amounted to over fifty per cent of fiscal income, the bulk of this from the state-monopolies on salt, tea and alcohol and from the taxation of trade.[144] ‘Huge sums of money were in circulation, available for investment in commerce and industry.’[145] For example, the colossal flow of Chinese ceramics to the west is a good example of a purely capitalist industry with factories located close to the major ports, often sprawling over entire valleys, and controlled no doubt by the business magnates of the southeastern coastal cities.[146] Quanzhou was the base of a regulated private capitalism geared to international markets. And, further north, the iron- and steel-industry of northern Kiangsu was also privately owned and operated, with some ‘thirty-six complex and costly mining and metallurgical establishments of Li-kuo chien’ employing over 3,600 full-time wage-labourers. ‘According to a memorial presented by Su Tung-p’o in the 1070s, each of the thirty-six great houses (ta-chia) possessed tens of thousands of strings of cash in liquid capital in addition to their investments in mines, land, plant and equipment.’[147]

The vitality of the tributary mode could scarcely be more strikingly demonstrated than by the example of China. The state both encouraged and regulated foreign trade, it ‘opened harbors and dredged canals, built breakwaters and warehouses’, and encouraged merchant involvement in the management of state-enterprises.[148] It was also state-demand for iron (for armaments, coinage, agricultural tools, etc.) that fuelled the expansion of the metal industry, and, on a more general level, in terms of the dynamic at work, ‘The location of the central government in an area almost always generated a period of intraregional development, and its removal, an era of systemic decline’.[149]

[I][T]he Southern Sung capital Hang-chou helped stimulate a period of rapid growth in the Lower Yangtze during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. . . . Development was the result of interregional integration brought about by a fiscal system which artificially reduced freight costs by subsidizing the transport of tax revenues and state purchases . . .[150]

To finish with China; the powerful landed interests behind the creation of so-called Wei-land, that is, the reclamation of lake-bottoms and river-beds that became widespread in the twelfth century, were ‘actually the most powerful personages in the government’.[151] ‘This was true not only of the local government, but also true with regard to the central government. The Sung scholar, Ma Twan-lin, indignantly refers to the fact that east of the Yangtze, Tsai Ching and Ch’in Kuei, notorious leading ministers at the Sung court, successively owned the Wei-lands’.

… In other words, the rapacious landed interests of these expansive centuries were an inextricable part of the Sung bureaucracy, in a pattern peculiar to China’s configuration of the tributary mode. This can be described either as collusion between the bureaucracy and the landed élite (‘powerful families whose words and influence could dominate the government’, as an official of the Southern Sung put it) [153] or as ‘court favourites and powerful officials’ grabbing land on a model of estate-building especially characteristic of the official class. In short, China represented a fusion of landed and bureaucratic interests where no aristocracy in any conventional sense was involved, at least not by this stage, and the autocracy was rarely strong enough to defend the financial interests of the government by opposing its own officials.

Russian absolutism, from the period of Muscovite consolidation in the late fourteenth century on, was almost the opposite of this, and here Weber’s intuition is more accurate than Anderson’s. Anderson reads Russian absolutism on a European model, assimilating the boyars to the feudal aristocracies of Western Europe and describing the Russian autocracy itself as an ‘Absolutist State of a type which was common to most European countries in the same epoch’.[154] This essentially feudal reading of tsarism contrasts sharply with Trotsky’s repeated emphasis on the ‘historical peculiarities’ of Russia’s development or fails to explain why Trotsky himself characterised the Russian state as a ‘bureaucratic autocracy’[155] or ‘bureaucratic absolutism’,[156] an ‘intermediate form between European absolutism and Asian despotism’ and one that was ‘possibly’ ‘closer to the latter of these two’.[157] The Russian nobility was, as Weber described it, ‘entirely powerless in relation to the ruler’.[158]

The Crown could indeed risk a behavior toward the nobility, even toward the bearers of the most famous names and owners of the largest properties, which no Occidental ruler, no matter how great a potentate, could have permitted himself toward the lowliest of his legally unfree ministeriales.[159]


The conducting wire that runs through the early history of the Muscovite state is the subordination of the aristocracy (the boyars and the Moscow nobility) [160] and their integration into a class of servitors who, as Andrej Pavlov notes, lacked not only political freedom but even the last vestiges of economic independence in relation to the ruler.[161] During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, ‘the Moscow monarchy succeeded in eliminating alodial holdings and making secular land tenure a form of possession conditional on state service’.[162] The principle of compulsory service, namely that ‘all land must serve’, formally introduced in 1556, would effectively mean that ‘private {that is, personal – Kiev Communard} property of the means of production became virtually extinct’.[163] The opríchnina uprooted boyars holding large vótchina estates in the central regions of Muscovy [164] and led, in the end, to a ‘profound transformation of the aristocracy that rendered it entirely dependent on the monarchy’.[165] ‘The future belonged not to the boyars but to the dvoriane.’[166] ‘

During the three centuries separating the reign of Ivan III from that of Catherine II the Russian equivalent of the nobility held its land on royal sufferance’.[167] This was the feature of Russian despotism that struck every observer from the West and, of course, the Russian intelligentsia itself of the nineteenth century. When Trotsky wrote of the Russian state and its possessing classes that it ‘forced and regimented their growth’ and compared tsarism to an ‘Asiatic despotism’,[168] he drew on a long tradition within that intelligentsia.

Romanovich-Slavatinsky had argued in 1870 that the Russian nobility was, fundamentally, a creation of the state (‘This is the fundamental difference which separates our “service nobility” from the feudal landowning aristocracy of Western Europe’),[169] and Miliukov, who saw the pomest’ye system as a Muscovite borrowing from the ‘oriental states’,[170] explained how the ‘final forming of the landed aristocracy’ took place in Russia, as in Turkey, on the foundation of autocratic power, that is, when the ‘national state was already founded’. ‘In all these cases [171] the appropriation of state lands by private owners did not lead to the feudal organization of society, because the central power was already too strong to be dispossessed of its superior rights in the land’.[172]

Thus, the conflict peculiar to China between a hereditary aristocracy (the great aristocratic clans that disintegrated in the late ninth and early tenth centuries) and the new class of professional bureaucrats that formed the backbone of the autocracy has no Russian counterpart, both because the aristocracy inherited from the appanage period survived but was ruthlessly subordinated, certainly by the sixteenth century, and because the Russian monarchy ‘never allowed its service class to sink roots in the countryside’.[173] Both aristocrats and the mass of dvoriane were simply elements of a unified service class, and, here, it would be more true to speak of the bureaucratisation of the nobility, certainly by the eighteenth century when Peter the Great set out to modernize this class.[174] The ‘noble bureaucrats’ of Peter’s reign were state-servitors first and landowners second,[175] reflecting the deep-rooted traditions of the pre-imperial Muscovite state which Weber correctly characterised as ‘patrimonial’.[176]

Although Russia was the one tributary (non-feudal) régime that saw the widespread emergence of serfdom, the peculiarity of Russian serfdom was that the ‘peasants fixed to the land did not belong to their landlords’.[177] The model is a late Roman one, where the tying of the peasantry to the land reflects a more widespread bondage driven by the needs of the treasury. And so it was in Russia.[178] But perhaps the best analogy for Russian serfdom comes from the Rumanian principalities, where the enserfment of the peasantry was fiscally driven (this at the very end of the sixteenth century) and the similarity with Russia argued, persuasively and decades ago, by Brătianu.[179]

The ferocious domination that held the Russian upper classes in the vice of tsarism meant both a pliant aristocracy, and one that was committed to a strong monarchy,[180] and the ‘absence in tsarist and imperial Russia of any effective regional loci of power, able to stand up to central authority’.[181] Mughal India differed profoundly in both respects, and, of the four configurations described here, was the tributary mode with the least integration between its ‘elements’.

The provincial magnates of Byzantium were part of the bureaucratic hierarchy, an administrative élite subservient to the emperor despite the ‘dissensions’ Basil II (976–1025) complained about[182] and the aristocracy’s potential for subversion. There was no distinction here between a service-nobility and a rural aristocracy. China, too, lacked any ‘disconnected juxtaposition’ of elements, once the Chinese state was rid of the powerful aristocratic clans that had dominated the administration during T’ang and all previous régimes. The dominance of a sophisticated literate bureaucracy was the hallmark of China’s modernity, and conflicts within the state were largely conflicts within that class and its rival factions. And in Russia (again!) aristocratic subservience to the Crown would only weaken significantly in the last decades of the eighteenth century,[183] yet, even then, the Russian nobility was never a threat to the state.[184]

Thus, India under the Mughals was totally exceptional in evolving a model that juxtaposed a service-élite with powerful regional aristocracies, the disconnected juxtaposition of a subversive rural aristocracy with a tightly disciplined class of administrators, the mansabdars, who formed the service-nobility and the backbone of the state.[185] If the late fifteenth-century Ottoman expansion had successfully integrated ‘members of the Byzantine and Balkan nobility into the highest reaches of [the Ottoman] administration’,[186] neither the Sultanate nor even Akbar would ever succeed in achieving anything remotely comparable.

The Ghurid conquests had ‘established a basis for Muslim rule in the north Gangetic plain, while leaving certain Hindu rulers on their thrones in return for the payment of tribute’.[187] A century later, under ‛Alā’ al-Dīn Khaljī and his imposition of kharāj over a considerable part of northern India, the subjection of this rural aristocracy, more advanced now, meant the transfer of a ‘significantly larger share of the agricultural surplus from the countryside to the towns and from the Hindu chiefs to the Muslim governing class’.[188] But, of course, the ‘Hindu chiefs’, ‘powerful, independent and autonomous chieftains’, as Nurul Hasan described them,[189] were never completely subordinated, much less exterminated, and every succeeding dynasty and régime had to contend with them.

Akbar is justly praised for recruiting the Rajput chiefs into the Mughal ruling hierarchy and for giving a ‘radical turn to the relationship between the centre and the landed magnates’.[190] Yet even after the huge expansion of the Mughal governing class between the fortieth year of Akbar (1595–6) and the early part of Aurangzeb’s reign, these powerful Hindu chieftains remained barely 15 per cent of the official ruling élite.[191] The fact is that ‘disarming and subduing regional aristocracies, or converting them into officials was a formidable task that was rarely accomplished by early modern states’.[192] The zamindars, as the Mughals now came to call these local rajas and regional aristocracies, were bastions of endemic rural resistance. ‘It was precisely from the zamindars that they [the jagirdars] [193] met with the greatest opposition and hostility’.[194] There was always, as Manucci said, ‘some rebellion of the rajahs and zamindars going on in the Mogul Kingdom’.[195] The widespread agrarian uprisings of the eighteenth century,196 led by the zamindars, were the key symptom that the ‘Mughal effort at internal consolidation of power’ had simply failed.[197]

The drastic loosening of the imperial structure that came by the eighteenth century was driven as much by these political factors, the way its tributary mode was configured in class-terms, as by the enormous economic expansion that reconfigured the relationship between the centre and the regions throughout India. That expansion was, to a great degree, a legacy of the Mughal state itself and of the peculiar dynamism of the tributary mode in stimulating monetary growth. By the 1580s, ‘the Mughal “regulation” (zabt) revenue system funnelled huge sums in copper coin and silver rupee into the hierarchy of imperial treasuries’.[198] ‘Foodgrains and other crops, sold for cash in a network of rural and urban markets, moved from the countryside to the cities in an annual rhythm in response to this state demand for payment of its tax levies in cash’.[199]

‘Akbar’s empire maintained large and growing reserves’ of both gold and silver,[200] showing that the Mughal fiscal dynamic was inextricably bound up with the world-economy and India’s ability to attract substantial flows of bullion and foreign specie through an expanding international trade that was vital to the fortunes of European commercial capitalism in the seventeenth century.[201] As John Richards argued, ‘the vast currency of the empire depended on rising European silver and gold imports’.[202] ‘The deluge of New World silver carried to India was of direct benefit to Akbar’s construction of the empire in the latter half of the sixteenth century’.[203]

To sum up, tributary modes of production were class-régimes characterised, in their developed forms, by a powerful monetary economy and considerable economic dynamism. They were ‘world-scale economies’[204] constructed on imperial foundations, that is, installed through conquest and expansion and built on centralising administrations ‘capable of steady expansion as new provinces were added to the empire’.[205] Moscow’s expansion in the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was gigantic and yet the ‘greatest conquests were still to come’. By the middle of the seventeenth century, the tsars of Russia ‘ruled over the largest state in the world’.[206] Byzantium, too, was the legacy of an empire that had expanded over centuries, then contracted sharply in the fifth to seventh centuries, to reconstruct itself later. That reconstruction involved renewed expansion. The Muslim states in India expanded over centuries, from the Ghurid conquests at the end of the twelfth century to Aurangzeb’s campaigns in the Deccan at the end of the seventeenth. If the eighteenth century saw the final dissolution of central power behind the façade of autocracy, this was due not to stagnation but to the forces of economic expansion unleashed by the tributary régimes themselves, from the longer cycles of demographic and commercial growth to the evolution of indigenous networks of commercial capitalism dominated by ‘commercial classes at every level’ starting with the great banking houses.[207]

The fiscal expansion of the Mughal régime between Akbar and Aurangzeb was a formidable achievement [208] and, as Richards notes, ‘peace, order, and new market opportunities, as well as state encouragement, increased the surplus to be shared between producer, middlemen (traders, brokers, moneylenders), zamindars, and the state’.[209] ‘Indian peasants in the seventeenth century grew a large number of food and industrial crops efficiently and well’, and by the 1680s ‘hundreds of prosperous market towns (qasbas) had proliferated in northern India’.[210] The import of large quantities of precious metals by the Companies contributed to the expansion of the Mughal régime,[211] with Bengal offering the ‘most dramatic example of export-stimulated economic growth’.[212]

In short, the ‘secular trend for Mughal India was that of economic growth and vitality’,[213] but, with the counterfinality characteristic of the dissolution of all modes of production, ‘it was precisely the wealthy and more prosperous parts of all the great empires . . . which in various ways and at various rates seceded from, ignored or revolted against the fragile imperial hegemonies’.[214] As Bayly says, ‘The decline of the great empires . . . now appears more like a consequence of their very success, the price of their earlier rapid expansion’,[215] which is a way of saying that the trajectories of the tributary régimes were driven by an internal logic or what Marx called a ‘law of motion’.

To Be Continued

Outinleftfield
28th December 2010, 18:07
The "asiatic mode of production" was based on a flawed understanding due to inaccurate reporting at the time. Can't really blame Marx for that.

The Asian countries were behind because they were still in feudalism, not some distinct asiatic stage. The closer cultural ties and economic exchanges between Britain and other European countries meant that after industrialization hit Britain the other European countries soon came to benefit from it. Asia, being far off and distant took longer and Britain and other European powers took advantage of this technological disparity to claim white superiority and colonize.