To see Marx presented in this way, that is to say, as an opponent of any psychological theory of society, may possibly surprise some Marxists as well as some anti-Marxists. For there seem to be many who believe in a very different story. Marx, they think, taught the all-pervading influence of the economic motive in the life of men; he succeeded in explaining its overpowering strength by showing that ‘man’s overmastering need was to get the means of living’1; he thus demonstrated the fundamental importance of such categories as the profit motive or the motive of class interest for the actions not only of individuals but also of social groups; and he showed how to use these categories for explaining the course of history. Indeed, they think that the very essence of Marxism is the doctrine that economic motives and especially class interest are the driving forces of history, and that it is precisely this doctrine to which the name ‘materialistic interpretation of history’ or ‘historical materialism’ alludes, a name by which Marx and Engels tried to characterize the essence of their teaching.
Such opinions are very common; but I have no doubt that they misinterpret Marx. Those who admire him for having held them, I may call Vulgar Marxists (alluding to the name ‘Vulgar Economist’ given by Marx to certain of his opponents2). The average Vulgar Marxist believes that Marxism lays bare the sinister secrets of social life by revealing the hidden motives of greed and lust for material gain which actuate the powers behind the scenes of history; powers that cunningly and consciously create war, depression, unemployment, hunger in the midst of plenty, and all the other forms of social misery, in order to gratify their vile desires for profit. (And the Vulgar Marxist is sometimes seriously concerned with the problem of reconciling the claims of Marx with those of Freud and Adler; and if he does not choose the one or the other of them, he may perhaps decide that hunger, love and lust for power3 are the Three Great Hidden Motives of Human Nature brought to light by Marx, Freud, and Adler, the Three Great Makers of the modern man’s philosophy. …)
Whether or not such views are tenable and attractive, they certainly seem to have very little to do with the doctrine which Marx called ‘historical materialism’. It must be admitted that he sometimes speaks of such psychological phenomena as greed and the profit motive, etc., but never in order to explain history. He interpreted them, rather, as symptoms of the corrupting influence of the social system, i.e. of a system of institutions developed during the course of history; as effects rather than causes of corruption; as repercussions rather than moving forces of history. Rightly or wrongly, he saw in such phenomena as war, depression, unemployment, and hunger in the midst of plenty, not the result of a cunning conspiracy on the part of ‘big business’ or of ‘imperialist war-mongers’, but the unwanted social consequences of actions, directed towards different results, by agents who are caught in the network of the social system. He looked upon the human actors on the stage of history, including the ‘big’ ones, as mere puppets, irresistibly pulled by economic wires—by historical forces over which they have no control. The stage of history, he taught, is set in a social system which binds us all; it is set in the ‘kingdom of necessity’. (But one day the puppets will destroy this system and attain the ‘kingdom of freedom’.)
This doctrine of Marx’s has been abandoned by most of his followers— perhaps for propagandist reasons, perhaps because they did not understand him—and a Vulgar Marxist Conspiracy Theory has very largely replaced the ingenious and highly original Marxian doctrine. It is a sad intellectual come-down, this come-down from the level of Capital to that of The Myth of the 20th Century.
Yet such was Marx’s own philosophy of history, usually called ‘historical materialism’. It will be the main theme of these chapters. In the present chapter, I shall explain in broad outlines its ‘materialist’ or economic emphasis; after that, I shall discuss in more detail the rôle of class war and class interest and the Marxist conception of a ‘social system’.
The exposition of Marx’s economic historicism4 can be conveniently linked up with our comparison between Marx and Mill. Marx agrees with Mill in the belief that social phenomena must be explained historically, and that we must try to understand any historical period as a historical product of previous developments. The point where he departs from Mill is, as we have seen, Mill’s psychologism (corresponding to Hegel’s idealism). This is replaced in Marx’s teaching by what he calls materialism.
Much has been said about Marx’s materialism that is quite untenable. The often repeated claim that Marx does not recognize anything beyond the ‘lower’ or ‘material’ aspects of human life is an especially ridiculous distortion. (It is another repetition of that most ancient of all reactionary libels against the defenders of freedom, Heraclitus’ slogan that ‘they fill their bellies like the beasts’5.) But in this sense, Marx cannot be called a materialist at all, even though he was strongly influenced by the eighteenth-century French Materialists, and even though he used to call himself a materialist, which is well in keeping with a good number of his doctrines. For there are some important passages which can hardly be interpreted as materialistic. The truth is, I think, that he was not much concerned with purely philosophical issues—less than Engels or Lenin, for instance—and that it was mainly the sociological and methodological side of the problem in which he was interested.
There is a well-known passage in Capital6, where Marx says that ‘in Hegel’s writing, dialectics stands on its head; one must turn it the right way up again …’ Its tendency is clear. Marx wished to show that the ‘head’, i.e. human thought, is not itself the basis of human life but rather a kind of superstructure, on a physical basis. A similar tendency is expressed in the passage: ‘The ideal is nothing other than the material when it has been transposed and translated inside the human head.’ But it has not, perhaps, been sufficiently recognized that these passages do not exhibit a radical form of materialism; rather, they indicate a certain leaning towards a dualism of body and mind. It is, so to speak, a practical dualism. Although, theoretically, mind was to Marx apparently only another form (or another aspect, or perhaps an epi-phenomenon) of matter, in practice it is different from matter, since it is another form of it. The passages quoted indicate that although our feet have to be kept, as it were, on the firm ground of the material world, our heads—and Marx thought highly of human heads—are concerned with thoughts or ideas. In my opinion, Marxism and its influence cannot be appreciated unless we recognize this dualism.
Marx loved freedom, real freedom (not Hegel’s ‘real freedom’). And as far as I am able to see he followed Hegel’s famous equation of freedom with spirit, in so far as he believed that we can be free only as spiritual beings. At the same time he recognized in practice (as a practical dualist) that we are spirit and flesh, and, realistically enough, that the flesh is the fundamental one of these two. This is why he turned against Hegel, and why he said that Hegel puts things upside down. But although he recognized that the material world and its necessities are fundamental, he did not feel any love for the ‘kingdom of necessity’, as he called a society which is in bondage to its material needs. He cherished the spiritual world, the ‘kingdom of freedom’, and the spiritual side of ‘human nature’, as much as any Christian dualist; and in his writings there are even traces of hatred and contempt for the material. What follows may show that this interpretation of Marx’s views can be supported by his own text.
In a passage of the third volume of Capital7, Marx very aptly describes the material side of social life, and especially its economic side, that of production and consumption, as an extension of human metabolism, i.e. of man’s exchange of matter with nature. He clearly states that our freedom must always be limited by the necessities of this metabolism. All that can be achieved in the direction of making us more free, he says, is ‘to conduct this metabolism rationally, … with a minimum expenditure of energy and under conditions most dignified and adequate to human nature. Yet it will still remain the kingdom of necessity. Only outside and beyond it can that development of human faculties begin which constitutes an end in itself— the true kingdom of freedom. But this can flourish only on the ground occupied by the kingdom of necessity, which remains its basis …’ Immediately before this, Marx says: ‘The kingdom of freedom actually begins only where drudgery, enforced by hardship and by external purposes, ends; it thus lies, quite naturally, beyond the sphere of proper material production.’ And he ends the whole passage by drawing a practical conclusion which clearly shows that it was his sole aim to open the way into that non-materialist kingdom of freedom for all men alike: ‘The shortening of the labour day is the fundamental pre-requisite.’
In my opinion this passage leaves no doubt regarding what I have called the dualism of Marx’s practical view of life. With Hegel he thinks that freedom is the aim of historical development. With Hegel he identifies the realm of freedom with that of man’s mental life. But he recognizes that we are not purely spiritual beings; that we are not fully free, nor capable of ever achieving full freedom, unable as we shall always be to emancipate ourselves entirely from the necessities of our metabolism, and thus from productive toil. All we can achieve is to improve upon the exhausting and undignified conditions of labour, to make them more worthy of man, to equalize them, and to reduce drudgery to such an extent that all of us can be free for some part of our lives. This, I believe, is the central idea of Marx’s ‘view of life’; central also in so far as it seems to me to be the most influential of his doctrines.
With this view, we must now combine the methodological determinism which has been discussed above (in chapter 13). According to this doctrine, the scientific treatment of society, and scientific historical prediction, are possible only in so far as society is determined by its past. But this implies that science can deal only with the kingdom of necessity. If it were possible for men ever to become perfectly free, then historical prophecy, and with it, social science, would come to an end. ‘Free’ spiritual activity as such, if it existed, would lie beyond the reach of science, which must always ask for causes, for determinants. It can therefore deal with our mental life only in so far as our thoughts and ideas are caused or determined or necessitated by the ‘kingdom of necessity’, by the material, and especially by the economic conditions of our life, by our metabolism. Thoughts and ideas can be treated scientifically only by considering, on the one hand, the material conditions under which they originated, i.e. the economic conditions of the life of the men who originated them, and on the other hand, the material conditions under which they were assimilated, i.e. the economic conditions of the men who adopted them. Hence from the scientific or causal point of view, thoughts and ideas must be treated as ‘ideological superstructures on the basis of economic conditions’. Marx, in opposition to Hegel, contended that the clue to history, even to the history of ideas, is to be found in the development of the relations between man and his natural environment, the material world; that is to say, in his economic life, and not in his spiritual life. This is why we may describe Marx’s brand of historicism as economism, as opposed to Hegel’s idealism or to Mill’s psychologism. But it signifies a complete misunderstanding if we identify Marx’s economism with that kind of materialism which implies a depreciatory attitude towards man’s mental life. Marx’s vision of the ‘kingdom of freedom’, i.e. of a partial but equitable liberation of men from the bondage of their material nature, might rather be described as idealistic.
Considered in this way, the Marxist view of life appears to be consistent enough; and I believe that such apparent contradictions and difficulties as have been found in its partly determinist and partly libertarian view of human activities disappear.
The bearing of what I have called Marx’s dualism and his scientific determinism on his view of history is plain. Scientific history, which to him is identical with social science as a whole, must explore the laws according to which man’s exchange of matter with nature develops. Its central task must be the explanation of the development of the conditions of production. Social relationships have historical and scientific significance only in proportion to the degree in which they are bound up with the productive process— affecting it, or perhaps affected by it. ‘Just as the savage must wrestle with nature in order to satisfy his needs, to keep alive, and to reproduce, so must the civilized man; and he must continue to do so in all forms of society and under all possible forms of production. This kingdom of necessity expands with its development, and so does the range of human needs. Yet at the same time, there is an expansion of the productive forces which satisfy these needs.’8 This, in brief, is Marx’s view of man’s history.
Similar views are expressed by Engels. The expansion of modern means of production, according to Engels, has created ‘for the first time … the possibility of securing for every member of society … an existence not only … sufficient from a material point of view, but also … warranting the … development and exercise of his physical and mental faculties’9. With this, freedom becomes possible, i.e. the emancipation from the flesh. ‘At this point … man finally cuts himself off from the animal world, leaves … animal existence behind him and enters conditions which are really human.’ Man is in fetters exactly in so far as he is dominated by economics; when ‘the domination of the product over producers disappears …, man … becomes, for the first time, the conscious and real master of nature, by becoming master of his own social environment … Not until then will man himself, in full consciousness, make his own history … It is humanity’s leap from the realm of necessity into the realm of freedom.’
If now again we compare Marx’s version of historicism with that of Mill, then we find that Marx’s economism can easily solve the difficulty which I have shown to be fatal to Mill’s psychologism. I have in mind the rather monstrous doctrine of a beginning of society which can be explained in psychological terms—a doctrine which I have described as the psychologistic version of the social contract. This idea has no parallel in Marx’s theory. To replace the priority of psychology by the priority of economics creates no analogous difficulty, since ‘economics’ covers man’s metabolism, the exchange of matter between man and nature. Whether this metabolism has always been socially organized, even in pre-human times, or whether it was once dependent solely on the individual, can be left an open question. No more is assumed than that the science of society must coincide with the history of the development of the economic conditions of society, usually called by Marx ‘the conditions of production’.
It may be noted, in parentheses, that the Marxist term ‘production’ was certainly intended to be used in a wide sense, covering the whole economic process, including distribution and consumption. But these latter never received much attention from Marx and the Marxists. Their prevailing interest remained production in the narrow sense of the word. This is just another example of the naïve historico-genetic attitude, of the belief that science must only ask for causes, so that, even in the realm of man-made things, it must ask ‘Who has made it?’ and ‘What is it made of?’ rather than ‘Who is going to use it?’ and ‘What is it made for?’
If we now proceed to a criticism as well as to an appreciation of Marx’s ‘historical materialism’, or of so much of it as has been presented so far, then we may distinguish two different aspects. The first is historicism, the claim that the realm of social sciences coincides with that of the historical or evolutionary method, and especially with historical prophecy. This claim, I think, must be dismissed. The second is economism (or ‘materialism’), i.e. the claim that the economic organization of society, the organization of our exchange of matter with nature, is fundamental for all social institutions and especially for their historical development. This claim, I believe, is perfectly sound, so long as we take the term ‘fundamental’ in an ordinary vague sense, not laying too much stress upon it. In other words, there can be no doubt that practically all social studies, whether institutional or historical, may profit if they are carried out with an eye to the ‘economic conditions’ of society. Even the history of an abstract science such as mathematics is no exception10. In this sense, Marx’s economism can be said to represent an extremely valuable advance in the methods of social science.
But, as I said before, we must not take the term ‘fundamental’ too seriously. Marx himself undoubtedly did so. Owing to his Hegelian upbringing, he was influenced by the ancient distinction between ‘reality’ and ‘appearance’, and by the corresponding distinction between what is ‘essential’ and what is ‘accidental’. His own improvement upon Hegel (and Kant) he was inclined to see in the identification of ‘reality’ with the material world11 (including man’s metabolism), and of ‘appearance’ with the world of thoughts or ideas. Thus all thoughts and ideas would have to be explained by reducing them to the underlying essential reality, i.e. to economic conditions. This philosophical view is certainly not much better12 than any other form of essentialism. And its repercussions in the field of method must result in an over-emphasis upon economism. For although the general importance of Marx’s economism can hardly be overrated, it is very easy to overrate the importance of the economic conditions in any particular case. Some knowledge of economic conditions may contribute considerably, for example, to a history of the problems of mathematics, but a knowledge of the problems of mathematics themselves is much more important for that purpose; and it is even possible to write a very good history of mathematical problems without referring at all to their ‘economic background’. (In my opinion, the ‘economic conditions’ or the ‘social relations’ of science are themes which can easily be overdone, and which are liable to degenerate into platitude.)
This, however, is only a minor example of the danger of over-stressing economism. Often it is sweepingly interpreted as the doctrine that all social development depends upon that of economic conditions, and especially upon the development of the physical means of production. But such a doctrine is palpably false. There is an interaction between economic conditions and ideas, and not simply a unilateral dependence of the latter on the former. If anything, we might even assert that certain ‘ideas’, those which constitute our knowledge, are more fundamental than the more complex material means of production, as may be seen from the following consideration. Imagine that our economic system, including all machinery and all social organizations, was destroyed one day, but that technical and scientific knowledge was preserved. In such a case it might conceivably not take very long before it was reconstructed (on a smaller scale, and after many had starved). But imagine all knowledge of these matters to disappear, while the material things were preserved. This would be tantamount to what would happen if a savage tribe occupied a highly industrialized but deserted country. It would soon lead to the complete disappearance of all the material relics of civilization.
It is ironical that the history of Marxism itself furnishes an example that clearly falsifies this exaggerated economism. Marx’s idea ‘Workers of all countries, unite!’ was of the greatest significance down to the eve of the Russian Revolution, and it had its influence upon economic conditions. But with the revolution, the situation became very difficult, simply because, as Lenin himself admitted, there were no further constructive ideas. (See chapter 13.) Then Lenin had some new ideas which may be briefly summarized in the slogan: ‘Socialism is the dictatorship of the proletariat, plus the widest introduction of the most modern electrical machinery.’ It was this new idea that became the basis of a development which changed the whole economic and material background of one-sixth of the world. In a fight against tremendous odds, uncounted material difficulties were overcome, uncounted material sacrifices were made, in order to alter, or rather, to build up from nothing, the conditions of production. And the driving power of this development was the enthusiasm for an idea. This example shows that in certain circumstances, ideas may revolutionize the economic conditions of a country, instead of being moulded by these conditions. Using Marx’s terminology, we could say that he had underrated the power of the kingdom of freedom and its chances of conquering the kingdom of necessity.
The glaring contrast between the development of the Russian Revolution and Marx’s metaphysical theory of an economic reality and its ideological appearance can best be seen from the following passages: ‘In considering such revolutions’, Marx writes, ‘it is necessary always to distinguish between the material revolution in the economic conditions of production, which fall within the scope of exact scientific determination, and the juridical, political, religious, æsthetic, or philosophic—in a word, ideological forms of appearance …’13 In Marx’s view, it is vain to expect that any important change can be achieved by the use of legal or political means; a political revolution can only lead to one set of rulers giving way to another set—a mere exchange of the persons who act as rulers. Only the evolution of the underlying essence, the economic reality, can produce any essential or real change—a social revolution. And only when such a social revolution has become a reality, only then can a political revolution be of any significance. But even in this case, the political revolution is only the outward expression of the essential or real change that has occurred before. In accordance with this theory, Marx asserts that every social revolution develops in the following way. The material conditions of production grow and mature until they begin to conflict with the social and legal relations, outgrowing them like clothes, until they burst. ‘Then an epoch of social revolution opens’, Marx writes. ‘With the change in the economic foundation, the whole vast super-structure is more or less rapidly transformed … New, more highly productive relationships’ (within the superstructure) ‘never come into being before the material conditions for their existence have been brought to maturity within the womb of the old society itself.’ In view of this statement, it is, I believe, impossible to identify the Russian Revolution with the social revolution prophesied by Marx; it has, in fact, no similarity with it whatever14.
It may be noted in this connection that Marx’s friend, the poet H. Heine, thought very differently about these matters. ‘Mark this, ye proud men of action’, he writes; ‘ye are nothing but unconscious instruments of the men of thought who, often in humblest seclusion, have appointed you to your inevitable task. Maximilian Robespierre was merely the hand of Jean-Jacques Rousseau …’15 (Something like this might perhaps be said of the relationship between Lenin and Marx.) We see that Heine was, in Marx’s terminology, an idealist, and that he applied his idealistic interpretation of history to the French Revolution, which was one of the most important instances used by Marx in favour of his economism, and which indeed seemed to fit this doctrine not so badly—especially if we compare it now with the Russian Revolution. Yet in spite of this heresy, Heine remained Marx’s friend16; for in those happy days, excommunication for heresy was still rather uncommon among those who fought for the open society, and tolerance was still tolerated.
My criticism of Marx’s ‘historical materialism’ must certainly not be interpreted as expressing any preference for Hegelian ‘idealism’ over Marx’s ‘materialism’; I hope I have made it clear that in this conflict between idealism and materialism my sympathies are with Marx. What I wish to show is that Marx’s ‘materialist interpretation of history’, valuable as it may be, must not be taken too seriously; that we must regard it as nothing more than a most valuable suggestion to us to consider things in their relation to their economic background.