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Marx y el marxismo

“Sobre mil socialistas, quizás uno solo haya leído una obra económica de Marx, sobre mil antimarxistas, ni siquiera uno ha leído a Marx ”.

I. MARX Y EL MARXISMO: INACABADO VERSUS SISTEMATIZACIÓN
Pocos hombres sacudieron el mundo como Karl Marx. A su desaparición, que pasó casi inobservada, le siguió, con una rapidez que en la historia tiene raros ejemplos con los cuales pueda ser confrontada, el eco de la fama. Muy pronto el nombre de Marx estuvo en las bocas de los trabajadores de Chicago y Detroit, así como en las de los primeros socialistas indios en Calcuta. Su imagen sirvió de fondo al congreso de los bolcheviques en Moscú después de la revolución. Su pensamiento inspiró programas y estatutos de todas las organizaciones políticas y sindicales del movimiento obrero, desde Europa entera hasta Shangai.

Sus ideas alteraron profundamente la filosofía, la historia, la economía. Sin embargo, no obstante la afirmación de sus teorías, que en el siglo XX se transformaron en la ideología dominante y doctrina de Estado en una gran parte del género humano, y la enorme difusión de sus escritos, sigue sin tener, hasta hoy, una edición integral y científica de sus obras. Entre los más grandes autores de la humanidad, esta suerte le tocó exclusivamente a él.

La razón primaria de esta particularísima condición reside en el carácter en gran medida inacabado de su obra. Si se excluyen, en efecto, los artículos periodísticos publicados en los tres lustros que van desde 1848 hasta 1862, una gran parte de los cuales estaban destinados a la New-York Tribune, que en esa época era uno de los más importantes periódicos del mundo, los trabajos publicados fueron relativamente pocos si se los compara con los tantos realizados sólo parcialmente y la importante mole de las investigaciones que realizó . Emblemáticamente, cuando en 1881, ya cerca del final de su vida, Marx fue interrogado por Karl Kautsky sobre la oportunidad de una edición completa de sus obras, respondió que “antes habría que escribirlas” .

Marx dejó ad acta muchos más manuscritos que los que mandó a la imprenta . Contra lo que suele pensarse, su obra fue fragmentaria, y a veces, contradictoria, aspectos que evidencian una de sus características peculiares: lo inacabado del trabajo. Su método sumamente riguroso y el hábito de la autocrítica más despiadada, que determinaron la imposibilidad de terminar muchos de los trabajos emprendidos; las condiciones de profunda miseria y de mala salud permanente que lo persiguieron toda la vida, la insaciable pasión de conocimiento, jamás alterada, que le impulsó siempre hacia nuevos estudios; y, por último, la pesada conciencia adquirida con la plena madurez de la dificultad de encerrar la complejidad de la historia en un proyecto teórico, hicieron precisamente de lo inacabado el fiel compañero y la condena de toda la producción de Marx y de su misma existencia. El colosal plan de su obra no fue realizado sino en ínfima parte, y sus incesantes esfuerzos intelectuales resultaron en un fracaso literario, aunque no por eso demostraron ser menos geniales, fecundos en consecuencias y derivaciones extraordinarias .

Sin embargo, a pesar de la carácter fragmentario del Nachlaß (legado literario póstumo) de Marx y de su firme oposición a erigir a partir de él un edificio de doctrina social, su obra incompleta fue subvertida, hasta acabar dando en un nuevo sistema, el “marxismo”. Después de la muerte de Marx en 1883, fue Friedrich Engels el primero que se dedicó a la empresa, dificilísima, dada la dispersión de materiales, lo abstruso del lenguaje y la ilegibilidad de la grafía, de publicar el legado del amigo. El trabajo se concentró en la reconstrucción y la selección de originales, en la publicación de textos inéditos o incompletos y, a la par, en la reedición y traducción de los escritos más conocidos.

Aunque no faltaron excepciones, como en el caso de las [Tesis sobre Feuerbach] , editadas en 1888 como apéndice a su Ludwig Feuerbach y el fin de la filosofía clásica alemana, y de la [Crítica del Programa de Gotha], publicada en 1891, Engels privilegió casi exclusivamente el trabajo editorial de completar El capital, del cual había terminado Marx solamente el volumen primero. Esta tarea, que duró más de una década, fue realizada con la intención precisa de conseguir “una obra orgánica y lo más completa posible” . Tal elección, aunque respondía a exigencias comprensibles, trocó un texto parcial y provisorio, compuesto en muchas partes de “pensamientos escritos in statu nascendi” y de apuntes preliminares que Marx acostumbraba reservarse para elaboraciones ulteriores de los temas tratados, en otro homogéneamente unitario, con apariencia de exponer una teoría económica sistemática y completa. De este modo, en el curso de su actividad de redacción, basada en la selección de los textos que se presentaban, no como versiones finales sino, en cambio, como verdaderas variantes, y precisado de uniformar el conjunto de los materiales, Engels, más que reconstruir la génesis y el desarrollo de los libros segundo y tercero de El Capital, que estaban bien lejos de su redacción definitiva, mandó a imprenta volúmenes terminados .

Por otra parte, ya antes había contribuido él mismo a generar directamente un proceso de sistematización teórica con sus propios escritos. El Anti Duhring, aparecido en 1878, que él definiera como una “exposición más o menos unitaria del método dialéctico y de la visión comunista del mundo representados por Marx y por mí” , se convirtió en referencia crucial para la formación el “marxismo” como sistema y para la diferenciación de éste respecto del socialismo ecléctico hasta entonces imperante. Una incidencia aún mayor tuvo La evolución del socialismo utópico al científico, reelaboración, con fines divulgativos, de tres capítulos del escrito precedente que, publicado por primera vez en 1880, tuvo una fortuna análoga a la del Manifiesto del partido comunista. Si bien hubo una distinción neta entre este tipo de vulgarización, realizada en polémica abierta con los simplistas atajos de las síntesis enciclopédicas, y la que tuvo como protagonista a la siguiente generación de socialdemócratas alemanes, la utilización por Engels de las ciencias naturales abrió el camino a la concepción evolucionista que, poco tiempo después, se afirmaría incluso en el movimiento obrero.

El pensamiento de Marx, indiscutiblemente crítico y abierto, aun si, a veces, atravesado por tentaciones deterministas, cayó bajo los golpes del clima cultural de la Europa de fines del XIX, permeado, como nunca antes, por concepciones sistemáticas, y en primer lugar por el darwinismo. Para responder a ellas y a la necesidad de ideología que avanzaba incluso en las filas del movimiento de los trabajadores, el reciente “marxismo”, que cada vez más dejaba de ser sólo una teoría científica para convertirse también en doctrina política – transformado precozmente en ortodoxia en las páginas de la revista Die Neue Zeit dirigida por Kautsky – asumió rápidamente la misma conformación sistémica. En este contexto, la difusa ignorancia y aversión en el seno del partido alemán hacia Hegel, un verdadero arcano impenetrable , y hacia su dialéctica, considerada hasta “el elemento no confiable de la doctrina marxista, la insidia que traba cualquier consideración coherente de las cosas” , desempeñaron un papel decisivo.

En las modalidades que acompañaron su difusión se encuentran otros factores que contribuyeron a la transformación de la obra de Marx en un sistema. Como demuestra la tirada reducida de las ediciones de la época de sus textos, se dio preferencia a los folletos de síntesis y a compendios sumamente parciales. Algunas de sus obras, además, sufrían los efectos de la instrumentalización política ocasional. Aparecieron así, en efecto, las primeras ediciones modificadas por los responsables de la edición, una práctica que, favorecida por las incertidumbres características del legado marxiano, fue imponiéndose más y más, junto con la censura de algunos escritos. La forma manualística, vehículo notable para la exportación del pensamiento de Marx por el mundo, representó seguramente un instrumento muy eficaz de propaganda, pero también la alteración fatal de la concepción inicial. La divulgación de su obra, una obra incompleta y compleja, en un ambiente dominado por el positivismo y con el propósito de responder mejor a las exigencias prácticas del partido proletario, se tradujo, por último, en un empobrecimiento y vulgarización del patrimonio originario , hasta hacerlo irreconocible cuando la Kritik terminó por trocar en Weltanschauung .

Así pues, fue tomando cuerpo una doctrina vertebrada por una esquemática y elemental interpretación evolucionista impregnada de determinismo económico: el “marxismo” del período de la Segunda Internacional (1889-1914). Guiada por una convicción, tan firme como ingenua, en la marcha automática de la historia y, por lo mismo, en la inevitabilidad de la sucesión del capitalismo por el socialismo, terminó por ser incapaz de comprender el curso real del presente y, rompiendo el necesario lazo con la praxis revolucionaria, produjo un quietismo fatalista que se transformó en factor de estabilidad del orden existente . Se evidenciaba de este modo el profundo alejamiento de Marx, que ya en su primera obra había declarado “la historia no hace nada (…) no es la ‘historia’ la que se sirve del hombre como medio para realizar sus propios fines, como si ella fuese una persona particular; ella no es más que la actividad del hombre que persigue sus fines” .

La teoría sobre el derrumbe (Zussammenbruchstheorie), o sea la tesis sobre el fin próximo de la sociedad capitalista-burguesa, que en la crisis económica de la Gran Depresión, desplegada a lo largo del veintenio sucesivo a 1873, tuvo el contexto más favorable para expresarse, fue proclamada la esencia más íntima del socialismo científico. Las afirmaciones de Marx, destinadas a delinear los principios dinámicos del capitalismo y, más en general, a describir una tendencia de desarrollo , fueron transformadas en leyes históricas universalmente válidas , de las cuales se podía inferir, hasta los particulares, el curso de los acontecimientos.

La idea de un capitalismo agonizante, automáticamente destinado al ocaso, estuvo presente también en el sustento teórico de la primera plataforma enteramente “marxista” de un partido político, El programa de Erfurt de 1891, y en el comentario que del mismo hizo Kautsky, que enunciaba cómo “el incontenible desarrollo económico lleva a la bancarrota del modo de producción capitalista con necesidad de ley natural. La creación de una nueva forma de sociedad en lugar de la actual ya no es sólo algo deseabl,e sino que se ha hecho inevitable” . Él fue la representación, más significativa y evidente, de los límites intrínsecos de la elaboración de la época, así como de la distancia abismal que se había producido con quien había sido el inspirador.

El mismo Eduard Bernstein, que al concebir el socialismo como posibilidad y no como inevitabilidad había marcado una discontinuidad con las interpretaciones dominantes en ese período, hizo una lectura de Marx igualmente deformada que no se separaba mínimamente de las de su tiempo y contribuyó a difundir, mediante la vasta resonancia que tuvo el Bernstein-Debatte, una imagen de aquélla igualmente alterada e instrumental. El “marxismo ruso”, que en el curso del siglo XIX desempeñó un papel fundamental en la divulgación del pensamiento de Marx, siguió esta trayectoria de sistematización y vulgarización incluso con mayor rigidez.

Para su pionero más importante, Gueorgui Plejánov, en efecto, “el marxismo es una completa concepción del mundo” , marcada por un monismo simplista según el cual las transformaciones superestructurales de la sociedad avanzan de manera simultánea con las modificaciones económicas. En Materialismo y empiriocriticismo, de 1909, Lenin define el materialismo como “el reconocimiento de la ley objetiva de la naturaleza y del reflejo aproximadamente fiel de esta ley en la cabeza del hombre” . La voluntad y la conciencia del género humano deben “inevitable y necesariamente” adecuarse a las necesidades de la naturaleza. Una vez más, prevalece un planteamiento positivista.

Ello es que, a pesar del áspero choque ideológico que se produjo durante estos años, muchos de los elementos teóricos característicos de la deformación producida por la Segunda Internacional pasaron a quienes acabaron troquelando la vida cultural de la Tercera Internacional. Esa continuidad se manifestó del modo más palmario en la Teoría del materialismo histórico, publicada en 1921 por Nikolai Bujarin, para quien, “tanto en la naturaleza como en la sociedad, los fenómenos son regulados por determinadas leyes. La primera tarea de la ciencia es descubrir esta regularidad” . Este determinismo social, totalmente centrado en el desarrollo de las fuerzas productivas, generó una doctrina, según la cual “la multiplicidad de las causas que hacen sentir su acción en la sociedad no contradice de ningún modo la existencia de una ley única de la evolución social” .

Particular interés reviste la crítica de Antonio Gramsci, quien se opuso “plantear el problema en términos de investigación de leyes, líneas constantes, regulares, uniformes, planteamiento ligado a una exigencia, un tanto pueril e ingenuamente concebida, de resolver perentoriamente el problema práctico de la previsibilidad de los acontecimientos históricos”. Su rotunda negativa a restringir la filosofía de la praxis marxiana a una grosera sociología, a “reducir una concepción el mundo a un formulario mecánico que da la impresión de tener toda la historia en el bolsillo” , fue particularmente importante porque iba más allá de lo escrito por Bujarin y buscaba condenar la orientación bastante más general que después prevalecería sin discusión en la Unión Soviética.

Con la consolidación del “marxismo-leninismo”, el proceso de deformación del pensamiento de Marx conoció su manifestación definitiva. La teoría perdió su función de guía de la acción, para pasar a ser su contrario, a saber: la justificación a posteriori de lo actuado. El punto de no retorno fue alcanzado con el “Diamat” (Dialekticeskij materializm), “la concepción del mundo del partido marxista-leninista” . El folleto de Stalin de 1938, intitulado Sobre el materialismo dialéctico y el materialismo histórico, que gozó de extraordinaria difusión, fijaba los rasgos esenciales: los fenómenos de la vida colectiva son regulados por las “leyes necesarias del desarrollo social”, “perfectamente cognoscibles”; “la historia de la sociedad se presenta como un desarrollo necesario de la sociedad, y el estudio de la historia de la sociedad se convierte en una ciencia”. Eso “quiere decir que la ciencia de la historia de la sociedad, a pesar de toda la complejidad de los fenómenos de la vida social, puede convertirse en una ciencia igualmente exacta, por ejemplo, que la biología, capaz de utilizar las leyes de desarrollo de la sociedad para utilizarlas en la práctica”, y que, por ende, es tarea del partido del proletariado fundar su actividad en esas leyes. A qué punto había llegado el uso confesionario de los términos “científico” y “ciencia”, huelga decirlo. La posible cientificidad del método marxiano, fundada en criterios teóricos escrupulosos y coherentes, vino a ser substituida por el pretendido proceder de las ciencias naturales, supuestamente horro de contradicciones.

De la mano de este catecismo ideológico, encontró terreno abonado el dogmatismo más rígido e intransigente. Completamente extraño y separado de la complejidad social, se sostenía por sí propio, como ocurre siempre con planteamientos formularios ayunos de realidad y tan arrogantes como epistemológicamente infundados. Para percatarse de la desconexión a que se había llegado con elplanteamiento original de Marx, bastará recordar la divisa preferida de éste: de omnibus dubitandum .

La ortodoxia “marxista-leninista” impuso un monismo inflexible que produjo efectos perversos también en los escritos de Marx. Indiscutiblemente, con la Revolución Soviética el “marxismo” vivió un momento significativo de expansión y circulación en ámbitos geográficos y de clases sociales de los que, hasta entonces, había sido excluido. Sin embargo, una vez más, la difusión de textos, lejos de remitirse directamente a los de Marx, se concentraba en los manuales de partido, vademécum, antologías “marxistas” sobre muy diversos argumentos. Además, fue cada vez más común la censura de algunas obras, el desmembramiento y la manipulación de otras, así como la práctica de la extrapolación y del artero montaje de las citas. Invocadas éstas con fines alevosa premeditados, recibían el mismo trato que el bandido Procusto reservaba a sus víctimas: si eran demasiado largas, se las amputaba, si demasiado cortas, se alargaban a voluntad.

Así pues, en resumidas cuentas, la divulgación sin esquematismos de un pensamiento, popularizarlo sin rendir la exigencia de no empobrecerlo es sin dudad una empresa difícil de llevar a cabo. Y con mayor razón si se trata de un pensamiento crítico y voluntariamente no sistemático como el de Marx. Lo cierto es, empero, que a Marx no podría haberle ido peor.

Desmochado aquí y allá en función de contingencias y necesidades políticas, fue asimilado a éstas, y en su nombre fue vituperado. Su teoría, que era crítica, fue utilizada como las exégesis de los versículos bíblicos. Nacieron así las paradojas más impensables. Enemigo “prescribir recetas (…) para la hostería del futuro” , fue transformado en el padre ilegítimo de un nuevo sistema social. Crítico rigurosísimo y siempre insatisfecho de sus resultados, se convirtió en la fuente del más obstinado doctrinarismo. Defensor incansable de la concepción materialista de la historia, fue arrancado de su contexto histórico mucho más que cualquier otro autor. Seguro de “que la emancipación de la clase obrera debe ser obra de los trabajadores mismos” , fue enjaulado en una ideología en la que prevalecía, en cambio, la primacía de las vanguardias políticas y del partido en el papel de propulsor de la conciencia de clase y de guía de la revolución. Propugnador de la idea de que la condición para la maduración de la capacidad humana era la reducción de la jornada de trabajo, fue asimilado al credo productivista del stajanovismo. Convencido promotor de la abolición del Estado, se encontró identificado como baluarte del mismo. Interesado como pocos otros pensadores en el libre desarrollo de las individualidades de los hombres, quien sostuvo, contra un derecho burgués que esconde las desigualdades sociales detrás de una mera igualdad legal, que “el derecho, en vez de ser igual, debería ser desigual” , ha sido incorporado a una concepción que ha neutralizado la investigación de la dimensión colectiva en el indistinto de la homologación.

El originario carácter inacabado del gran trabajo crítico de Marx fue sometido a las presiones de la sistematización de los epígonos, que produjeron, inexorablemente, la deformación de su pensamiento hasta borrarlo y anularlo y convertirlo en su negación manifiesta.

II. UN AUTOR MAL CONOCIDO
“¿Acaso los escritos de Marx y Engels (…) fueron alguna vez leídos por entero por nadie que estuviese fuera de las filas de los amigos próximos y los adeptos y, por consiguiente, de los seguidores e intérpretes directos de los autores?”. Así se interrogaba Antonio Labriola, en 1897, sobre cuánto de la obra de aquéllos fuese hasta entonces conocido. Sus conclusiones fueron inequivocas: “leer todos los escritos de los fundadores del socialismo científico pareció hasta ahora un privilegio de iniciados”; el “materialismo histórico” había llegado a los pueblos de lenguas neolatinas “a través de una serie de equívocos, malentendidos, de alteraciones grotescas, de extraños disfraces y de invenciones gratuitas” . Un “marxismo” imaginario. En efecto, como fue demostrado posteriormente por la investigación historiográfica, la convicción de que Marx y Engels fuesen verdaderamente leídos ha sido el fruto de una leyenda hagiográfica. Por el contrario, muchos de sus textos eran raros o imposibles de encontrar incluso en la lengua original y, por lo tanto, la invitación del estudioso italiano a dar vida a “una edición completa y crítica de todos los escritos de Marx y Engels” , indicaba una ineludible necesidad general. En opinión de Labriola, no era necesario ni compilar antologías, ni redactar un testamentum juxta canonem receptum, sino “todo el trabajo científico y político, toda la producción literaria, aunque fuese ocasional, de los dos fundadores del socialismo crítico, debe ser puesta al alcance de los lectores (…) para que ellos hablen directamente a todos los que tengan ganas de leerlos” . Más de un siglo después de este deseo, este proyecto aún no ha sido realizado.

Junto a estas valoraciones predominantemente filológicas, Labriola planteaba otras de carácter teórico, de sorprendente previsión con respecto a la época en que vivió. Consideraba que todos los escritos y trabajos inacabados de Marx y de Engels eran “los fragmentos de una ciencia y de una política que está en continuo devenir”. Para evitar buscar en ellos “lo que no está, ni debe estar”, o sea, “una especie de vulgata o preceptiva para la interpretación de la interpretación de todo, dondequiera y cuandoquiera”, tenían que ser plenamente comprendidos, lo que sólo podía lograrse reubicándolos en el momento y el contexto de su génesis. De lo contrario, quienes “no entienden el pensar y el saber como trabajos en curso”, o sea “los doctrinarios y los presuntuosos de todo tipo que tienen necesidad de los ídolos de la mente, los hacedores de sistemas clásicos valederos para la eternidad, los compiladores de manuales y de enciclopedias, buscarán en el marxismo, del revés y del derecho, lo que éste jamás pretendió ofrecer a nadie” : una solución sumaria y fideísta a las interrogaciones de la historia.

El ejecutor natural de la realización de las opera omnia no habría podido ser otro que la Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, detentora del Nachlaß y de las mayores competencias linguísticas y teóricas. Sin embargo, los conflictos políticos en el seno de la Socialdemocracia no sólo impidieron la publicación de la imponente e importante masa de trabajos inéditos de Marx, sino que produjeron también la dispersión de sus manuscritos, comprometiendo así cualquier designio de edición sistemática . Sorprendentemente, el partido alemán tampoco lo pretendió, y trató la herencia literaria de Marx y de Engels con la máxima negligencia . Ninguno de sus teóricos se ocupó de hacer una lista del legado intelectual de los dos fundadores, que estaba compuesto por muchos manuscritos incompletos y por proyectos no llevados a término. Aún menos hubo quien se dedicase a reunir una correspondencia, voluminosa pero extremadamente dispersa, aunque ésta es utilísima como fuente de esclarecimiento, cuando no incluso de continuación, de sus escritos. La biblioteca, por último, que tenía los libros que ellos poseían con interesantes notas marginales y subrayados, fue ignorada, en parte dispersada, y sólo luego, trabajosamente reconstruida y catalogada .

La primera publicación de las obras completas, la Marx-Engels Gesamtausgabe (MEGA) comenzó recién en los años veinte, por iniciativa de David Borisovich Riazanov, principal conocedor de Marx en el siglo diecinueve y director del Instituto Marx-Engels de Moscú. Sin embargo, también esta empresa naufragó a causa de los tempestuosos acontecimientos que vivió el movimiento obrero internacional, los cuales muy a menudo pusieron trabas a la edición de sus textos en vez de favorecerla. Las depuraciones estalinistas en la Unión Soviética, que se abatieron también sobre los estudiosos que dirigían el proyecto, y el triunfo del nazismo en Alemania, condujeron a la precoz interrupción de la edición, tornando vano también este intento.

Se produjo así la contradicción absoluta del nacimiento de una ideología inflexible que se inspiraba en un autor cuya gigantesca obra todavía permanecía en parte inexplorada. La afirmación del “marxismo” y su cristalización como corpus dogmático precedieron al conocimiento de los textos cuya lectura era indispensable para comprender la formación y la evolución del pensamiento de Marx . Los principales trabajos juveniles, en efecto, sólo fueron impresos con la MEGA: [ Sobre la crítica de la filosofía hegeliana del derecho público.] en 1927, los [ Manuscritos económico-filosóficos de 1844] y [ La idelogía alemana] en 1932 – y, como ya había sucedido con los libros segundo y tercero de El capital, en ediciones en las que aparecían como obras terminadas, opción que posteriormente engendró muchos malentendidos interpretativos.

Sucesivamente, y con tirajes que sólo pudieron asegurar una escasísima difusión, se publicaron algunos importantes trabajos preparatorios de El capital: en 1933 el [Capítulo VI inédito] y entre 1939 y 1941 los [Lineamientos fundamentales de la crítica de la economía política], más conocidos como Grundrisse. Esos inéditos, además, como los otros que siguieron, cuando no fueron escondidos por el temor a que pudiesen erosionar el canon ideológico dominante, estaban acompañados por una interpretación funcional a las exigencias políticas que, en el mejor de los casos, aportaba ajustes previsibles a dicha interpretación ya predeterminada y jamás se tradujeron en una seria rediscusión de conjunto de la obra.

El tortuoso proceso de difusión de los escritos de Marx y la carencia de una edición integral de los mismos, unidos a su carácter originario ya incompleto, al trabajo pésimo de los epígonos, a las lecturas tendenciosas y a las aún más numerosas no lecturas, son la causa fundamental de la gran paradoja: Karl Marx es un autor mal conocido, víctima de una profunda y reiterada incomprensión . Lo ha sido durante el período en el que el “marxismo” era política y culturalmente hegemónico, y todavía hoy sigue siéndolo.

IV. UNA OBRA PARA HOY
Liberada de la odiosa función de instrumentum regni, al que había sido destinada en el pasado, y de la falacia del “marxismo”, del cual fue definitivamente separada, la obra de Marx, todavía parcialmente inédita, reaparece en su aspecto original no acabado y es nuevamente presentada a los libres campos del saber. Una vez sustraída a sus autonombrados propietarios y a modos de empleo constrictivos por fin se ha hecho posible el pleno despliegue de su preciosa e inmensa herencia teórica.

Con el auxilio de la filología encuentran una respuesta la ya ineludible exigencia del reconocimiento de las fuentes, durante tanto tiempo envueltas y mistificadas por la propaganda apologética, y la necesidad de disponer de un índice seguro y definitivo de todos los manuscritos de Marx. Ella se ofrece como medio imprescindible para aclarar el texto, restableciéndole el horizonte problemático y polimorfo originario y evidenciando la enorme distancia que existe entre él y muchas de las interpretaciones y de las experiencias políticas que, aunque hayan pretendido apoyarse en él, han transmitido del mismo una percepción sumamente reductiva.

Leer a Marx con la intención de reconstruir la génesis de sus escritos y el cuadro histórico en que nacieron, de poner en evidencia la importancia de la deuda intelectual en la elaboración, de considerar su carácter constantemente multidisciplinario , tal es la complicada tarea que tiene ante sí la nueva Marx Forschung (investigación sobre Marx) y que necesita, para ser realizada, una orientación permanentemente crítica y alejada del condicionamiento engañoso de la ideología. Sin embargo, la de Marx no es solamente una obra carente de una adecuada interpretación crítica que pueda hacerle justicia a su genio , sino que es también una obra en una constante investigación por su autor.
Las reflexiones de Marx están atravesadas por una diferencia irreducible, por un carácter absolutamente particular respecto a las de la mayor parte de los otros pensadores. Ellas están unidas por un lazo inescindible entre la teoría y la praxis y se dirigen persistentemente a un sujeto privilegiado y concreto: “el movimiento real que lleva a la abolición del estado de las cosas presente” (die wirkliche Bewegung welche den jetzigen Zustand aufhebt) al cual se le confía “el derribamiento y la inversión práctica de las relaciones sociales existentes” (den praktischen Umsturz der realen gesellschftlichen Verhältnisse) . Creer que se puede relegar el patrimonio teórico y político de Marx a un pasado que ya no tendría nada que decir a los conflictos actuales, y circunscribirlo a la función de clásico momificado con un interés inofensivo para los días de hoy o encerrarlo en especialismos meramente especulativos, sería algo tan erróneo como su anterior transformación en la esfinge del gris socialismo real del siglo pasado.

Su obra conserva confines y pretensiones mucho más amplios que los ámbitos de las disciplinas académicas. Sin el pensamiento de Marx faltarían los conceptos para comprender y describir el mundo contemporáneo, así como los instrumentos críticos para invertir la subalternidad al credo imperante que presume poder representar el presente con las semblanzas antihistóricas de la naturalidad y de la inmutabilidad. Sin Marx estaríamos condenados a una verdadera afasia crítica.

No debe engañarnos la aparente inactualidad y el dogma absoluto y unánime que decreta con certeza el olvido. Sus ideas podrán en cambio provocar nuevos entusiasmos, estimular fecundas reflexiones ulteriores y sufrir otras alteraciones. La causa de la emancipación humana todavía deberá ponerlo a su servicio. Crítico sin igual del sistema de producción capitalista, Karl Marx será fundamental hasta la superación de aquél. Su “espectro” está destinado a recorrer el mundo y a hacer que la humanidad se agite todavía durante mucho tiempo.

Traducción castellana: Gulliermo Almeyra

APÉNDICE: CRONOLOGÍA DE LAS OBRAS DE MARX

AÑO TÍTULO DE LA OBRA  INFORMACIÓN SOBRE LAS EDICIONES
1841 [Diferencia entre la filosofía de la naturaleza de Demócrito y la de Epicuro] 1902: en Aus dem literarischen Nachlass von Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels und Ferdinand Lassalle, compilada por Mehring (version parcial).
1927: en MEGA I/1.1, compilada por Riazanov.
1842-43 Artículos para la Gaceta Renana Periódico que se imprimía en Colonia
1844 [Sobre la crítica de la filosofía hegeliana del derecho público] 1927: en MEGA I/1.1, a cargo de Riazanov.
1844 Ensayos para los Anales Franco-Alemanes Incluidos en Sobre la cuestión judía y Para la crítica de la filosofía del derecho de Hegel. Introducción. Número único publicado en París. La mayor parte de los ejemplares fue confiscada por la policía.
1845 [Manuscritos económico-filosóficos de 1844] 1932: en Der historische Materialismus, a cargo de Landshut y Mayer y en MEGA I/3, a cargo de Adoratsky (las ediciones difieren en su contenido y en el orden de las partes). El texto fui excluido de los volúmenes numerados de la MEW y publicado por separado.
1845 La Sagrada Familia (con Engels) Publicado en Frankfort sobre el Mein.
1845 [Tesis sobre Feuerbach] 1888: en apéndice a la reimpresión de Ludwig Fuerbach y el fin de la filosofía clásica alemana de Engels.
1845-46 [La ideología alemana] (con Engels) 1903-1904: en Dokumente des Sozialismus, a cargo de Bernstein (versión parcial y manipulada).
1932: en Der historische Materialismus, a cargo de Landshut y Mayer, y en MEGA I/3, a cargo de Adoratsky (las ediciones difieren en su contenido y en el orden de las partes).
1847 Miseria de la filosofía Impreso en Bruselas y París. Texto en francés.
1848 Discurso sobre la cuestión del libre cambio Publicado en Bruselas. Texto en francés.
1848 Manifiesto del partido comunista (con Engels) Impreso en Londres. Conquistó cierta difusión a partir de los años setenta.
1848-49 Artículos para la Nueva Gaceta Renana Periódico de Colonia. Entre ellos figura Trabajo asalariado y capital.
1850 Artículos para la Nueva Gaceta Renana. Revista político-económica Fascículos mensuales impresos en Hamburgo y de exiguo tiraje. Comprenden Las luchas de clase en Francia desde 1848 a 1850.
1851-62 Artículos para el New-York Tribune Muchos artículos fueron redactados por Engels.
1852 El dieciocho Brumario de Luis Bonaparte Publicado en Nueva York en el primer fascículo de Die Revolution. La mayor parte de los ejemplares no pudo ser retirada de la imprenta por dificultades financieras. A Europa llegó solamente un número insignificante de copias. La segunda edición –reelaborada por Marx – apareció sólo en 1869.
1852 [Los grandes hombres del exilio] (con Engels) 1930: en “Archiv Marksa i Engel’sa” (edición rusa). El manuscrito había sido ocultado precedentemente por Bernstein.
1853 Revelaciones sobre el proceso contra los comunistas de Colonia Impreso como anónimo en Basilea (casi todos los dos mil ejemplares fueron secuestrados por la policía) y en Boston. En 1874 fue reimpreso en el Volksstaat y Marx aparece como autor; en 1875 versión en libro.
1854 El caballero de la noble conciencia Publicado en Nueva York como folleto.
1856-57 Revelaciones sobre la historia diplomática del siglo dieciocho Aunque había sido ya publicado por Marx, después fue omitido y sólo fue publicado en Europa oriental en 1986 en la MECW. Texto en inglés.
1857-58 [Introducción a los Lineamientos fundamentales de la crítica de la economía política] 1903: en Die Neue Zeit, a cargo de Kautsky, con notables discordancias con el original.
1859 Para la crítica de la economía política Impreso en Berlín en mil ejemplares.
1860 Herr Vogt Impreso en Londres con escasa resonancia.
1861-63 [Para la crítica de la economía política (Manuscrito 1861-1863)] 1905-1910: Teorías sobre la plusvalía; a cargo de Kautsky (versión manipulada). El texto fiel al original recién apareció en 1954 (edición rusa) y en 1956 (edición alemana).
1976-1982: publicación integral de todo el manuscrito en MEGA² II/3.1-3.6.
1863-64 [Sobre la cuestión polaca] 1961: Manuskripte über die polnische Frag, a cargo del IISG.
1863-67 [Manuscritos económicos 1863-67] 1894: El capital. Libro tercero. El proceso global de la producción capitalista, a cargo de Engels (basado también sobre manuscritos sucesivos, editados en MEGA² II/14 y en preparación en MEGA² II/4.3).
1933: Libro primero. Capítulo VI inédito, en “Archiv Marksa i Engel’sa” (edición rusa).
1988: publicación de manuscritos del Libro primero y del Libro segundo, en MEGA² II/4.1.
1992: publicación de manuscritos del Libro tercero, en MEGA² II/4.2.
1864-72 Discursos, resoluciones, circulares, manifiestos, programas, estatutos para la Asociación Internacional de los Trabajadores Incluyen el Mensaje inaugural de la Asociación internacional de los trabajadores, La guerra civil en Francia y Las llamadas escisiones en la Internacional (con Engels). Por lo general, textos en inglés.
1865 [Salario, precio y ganancia] 1898: a cargo de Eleanor Marx. Texto en inglés.
1867 El capital. Libro primero. El proceso de producción del capital Editado en mil ejemplares en Hamburgo. Segunda edición en 1873 de tres mil copias. Traducción rusa en 1872.
1870 [Manuscrito para el libro segundo de El capital] 1885: El capital. Libro segundo. El proceso de circulación del capital, a cargo de Engels (basado también sobre el manuscrito de 1880-1881 y sobre los otros más breves de 1867-1868 y de 1877-1878, en preparación en MEGA² II/11).
1872-75 El capital. Libro primero: El proceso de producción del capital (edición francesa) Texto reelaborado para la traducción francesa publicada en fascículos. Según Marx tiene “un valor científico independiente del original”.
1874-75 [Notas sobre “Estado y Anarquía” de Bakunin] 1928: en Letopisi marxisma, prefacio de Riazanov (edición rusa). Manuscritos con extractos en ruso y comentarios en alemán.
1875 [Crítica al Programa de Gotha] 1891: en Die Neue Zeit, a cargo de Engels, que modificó algunos trechos del original.
1875 [La relación entre la cuota de plusvalía y la cuota de ganancia desarrollada matemáticamente] 2003: en MEGA² II/14.
1877 Sobre la “Historia crítica” (capítulo del Anti-Dühring de Engels) Publicado parcialmente en el Vorwärts y después íntegramente en la edición como libro.
1879-80 [Anotaciones sobre “La propiedad común rural” de Kovalevsky] 1977: en Karl Marx über Formen vorkapitalischer Produktion, a cargo del IISG.
1880-81 [Extractos de “La sociedad antigua” de Morgan] 1972: en The Ethnological Notebooks of Karl Marx, a cargo del IISG. Manuscritos con extractos en inglés.
1881 [Glosas marginales al “Manual de economía política” de Wagner] 1932: en El Capital (versión parcial).
1933: en SOČ XV (edición rusa).
1881-82 [Extractos cronológicos desde el 90 a.C hasta el 1648 ca.] 1938-1939: en “Archiv Marksa i Engel’sa” (versión parcial, edición rusa).
1953: en Marx,Engels, Lenin, Stalin, Zur deutschen Geschichte (versión parcial).

 

Categories
Book chapter

History, Production and Method in the ‘1857 Introduction’

Introduction
In 1857 Marx was convinced that the financial crisis developing at international level had created the conditions for a new revolutionary period throughout Europe. He had been waiting for this moment ever since the popular insurrections of 1848, and now that it finally seemed to have come he did not want events to catch him unprepared. He therefore decided to resume his economic studies and to give them a finished form.

Where to begin? How to embark on the critique of political economy, that ambitious and demanding project which he had begun and interrupted several times before? This was the first question that Marx asked himself as he got down to work again. Two circumstances played a crucial role in determining the answer: he held the view that, despite the validity of certain theories, economic science still lacked a cognitive procedure with which to grasp and elucidate reality correctly; and he felt a need to establish the arguments and the order of exposition before he embarked on the task of composition. These considerations led him to go more deeply into problems of method and to formulate the guiding principles for his research. The upshot was one of the most extensively debated manuscripts in the whole of his oeuvre: the so-called ‘Introduction’ of 1857.

Marx’s intention was certainly not to write a sophisticated methodological treatise but to clarify for himself, before his readers, what orientation he should follow on the long and eventful critical journey that lay ahead. This was also necessary for the task of revising the huge mass of economic studies that he had accumulated since the mid-1840s. Thus, along with observations on the employment and articulation of theoretical categories, these pages contain a number of formulations essential to his thought that he found indispensable to summarize anew – especially those linked to his conception of history – as well as a quite unsystematic list of questions for which the solutions remained problematic.

This mix of requirements and purposes, the short period of composition (scarcely a week) and, above all, the provisional character of these notes make them extremely complex and controversial. Nevertheless, since it contains the most extensive and detailed pronouncement that Marx ever made on epistemological questions, the ‘Introduction’ is an important reference for the understanding of his thought and a key to the interpretation of the Grundrisse as a whole.

History and the social individual
In keeping with his style, Marx alternated in the ‘Introduction’ between exposition of his own ideas and criticism of his theoretical opponents. The text is divided into four sections:

(1) Production in general
(2) General relation between production, distribution, exchange and consumption
(3) The method of political economy
(4) Means (forces) of production and relations of production, relations of production and relations of circulation, etc.
(Marx 1973: 69)

The first section opens with a declaration of intent, immediately specifying the field of study and pointing to the historical criterion: ‘[t]he object before us, to begin with, material production. Individuals producing in society – hence socially determined individual production – is, of course, the point of departure.’ Marx’s polemical target was ‘the eighteenth-century Robinsonades’ (Marx 1973: 83), the myth of Robinson Crusoe (see Watt 1951: 112) as the paradigm of homo oeconomicus, or the projection of phenomena typical of the bourgeois era onto every other society that has existed since the earliest times. Such conceptions represented the social character of production as a constant in any labour process, not as a peculiarity of capitalist relations. In the same way, civil society [bürgerliche Gesellschaft] – whose emergence in the eighteenth century had created the conditions through which ‘the individual appears detached from the natural bonds etc. which in earlier historical periods make him the accessory of a definite and limited human conglomerate’ – was portrayed as having always existed (Marx 1973: 83).

In reality, the isolated individual simply did not exist before the capitalist epoch. As Marx put it in another passage in the Grundrisse: ‘He originally appears as a species-being, tribal being, herd animal’ (Marx 1973: 496, trans. modified). This collective dimension is the condition for the appropriation of the earth, ‘the great workshop, the arsenal which furnishes both means and material of labour, as well as the seat, the base of the community [Basis des Gemeinwesens]’ (Marx 1973: 472). In the presence of these primal relations, the activity of human beings is directly linked to the earth; there is a ‘natural unity of labour with its material presuppositions’, and the individual lives in symbiosis with others like himself (Marx 1973: 471). Similarly, in all later economic forms based on agriculture where the aim is to create use-values and not yet exchange-values, the relationship of the individual to ‘the objective conditions of his labour is mediated through his presence as member of the commune’; he is always only one link in the chain (Marx 1973: 486). In this connection, Marx writes in the ‘Introduction’:

The more deeply we go back into history, the more does the individual, and hence also the producing individual, appear as dependent [unselbstständig], as belonging to a greater whole: in a still quite natural way in the family and in the family expanded into the clan [Stamm]; then later in the various forms of communal society arising out of the antitheses and fusions of the clans. (Marx 1973: 84)

Similar considerations appear in Capital, vol. I. Here, in speaking of ‘the European Middle Ages, shrouded in darkness’, Marx argues that ‘instead of the independent man, we find everyone dependent, serfs and lords, vassals and suzerains, laymen and clergy. Personal dependence here characterizes the social relations of production just as much as it does the other spheres of life organized on the basis of that production’ (Marx 1996: 88). And, when he examined the genesis of product exchange, he recalled that it began with contacts among different families, tribes or communities, ‘for, in the beginning of civilization, it is not private individuals but families, tribes, etc., that meet on an independent footing’ (Marx 1996: 357). Thus, whether the horizon was the primal bond of consanguinity or the medieval nexus of lordship and vassalage, individuals lived amid ‘limited relations of production [bornirter Productionsverhältnisse]’, joined to one another by reciprocal ties (Marx 1973: 162).

The classical economists had inverted this reality, on the basis of what Marx regarded as fantasies with an inspiration in natural law. In particular, Adam Smith had described a primal condition where individuals not only existed but were capable of producing outside society. A division of labour within tribes of hunters and shepherds had supposedly achieved the specialization of trades: one person’s greater dexterity in fashioning bows and arrows, for example, or in building wooden huts, had made him a kind of armourer or carpenter, and the assurance of being able to exchange the unconsumed part of one’s labour product for the surplus of others ‘encourage[d] every man to apply himself to a particular occupation’ (Smith 1961: 19). David Ricardo was guilty of a similar anachronism when he conceived of the relationship between hunters and fishermen in the early stages of society as an exchange between owners of commodities on the basis of the labour-time objectified in them (see Ricardo 1973: 15, cf. Marx 1987a: 300).

In this way, Smith and Ricardo depicted a highly developed product of the society in which they lived – the isolated bourgeois individual – as if he were a spontaneous manifestation of nature. What emerged from the pages of their works was a mythological, timeless individual, one ‘posited by nature’, whose social relations were always the same and whose economic behaviour had a historyless anthropological character (Marx 1973: 83). According to Marx, the interpreters of each new historical epoch have regularly deluded themselves that the most distinctive features of their own age have been present since time immemorial.

Marx argued instead that ‘[p]roduction by an isolated individual outside society … is as much of an absurdity as is the development of language without individuals living together and talking to each other’ (Marx 1973: 84). And, against those who portrayed the isolated individual of the eighteenth century as the archetype of human nature, ‘not as a historical result but as history’s point of departure’, he maintained that such an individual emerged only with the most highly developed social relations (Marx 1973: 83). Marx did not entirely disagree that man was a ζώον πολιτικόν [zoon politikon], a social animal, but he insisted that he was ‘an animal which can individuate itself only in the midst of society’ (Marx 1973: 84). Thus, since civil society had arisen only with the modern world, the free wage-labourer of the capitalist epoch had appeared only after a long historical process. He was, in fact, ‘the product on one side of the dissolution of the feudal forms of society, on the other side of the new forces of production developed since the sixteenth century’ (Marx 1973: 83). If Marx felt the need to repeat a point he considered all too evident, it was only because works by Henry Charles Carey, Frédéric Bastiat and Pierre-Joseph Proudhon had brought it up for discussion in the previous twenty years. After sketching the genesis of the capitalist individual and demonstrating that modern production conforms only to ‘a definitive stage of social development – production by social individuals’, Marx points to a second theoretical requirement: namely, to expose the mystification practised by economists with regard to the concept of ‘production in general’ [Production im Allgemeinem]. This is an abstraction, a category that does not exist at any concrete stage of reality. However, since ‘all epochs of production have certain common traits, common characteristics’ [gemeinsame Bestimmungen], Marx recognizes that ‘production in general is a rational abstraction in so far as it really brings out and fixes the common element’, thereby saving pointless repetition for the scholar who undertakes to reproduce reality through thought (Marx 1973: 85).

So, abstraction acquired a positive function for Marx. It was no longer, as in his early critique of G.W.F. Hegel, synonymous with idealist philosophy and its substitution of itself for reality (see Marx 1975a: 180ff.), or, as he put it in 1847 in The Poverty of Philosophy, a metaphysics that transformed everything into logical categories (Marx 1976: 163). Now that his materialist conception of history (as it was later denominated) had been solidly elaborated, and now that his critical reflections were operating in a context profoundly different from that of the early 1840s, Marx was able to reconsider abstraction without the prejudices of his youth. Thus, unlike representatives of the ‘Historical School’, who in the same period were theorizing the impossibility of abstract laws with universal value, Marx in the Grundrisse recognized that abstraction could play a fruitful role in the cognitive process.

This was possible, however, only if theoretical analysis proved capable of distinguishing between definitions valid for all historical stages and those valid only for particular epochs, and of granting due importance to the latter in the understanding of reality. Although abstraction was useful in representing the broadest phenomena of production, it did not correctly represent its specific aspects, which were alone truly historical. If abstraction was not combined with the kind of determinations characteristic of any historical reality, then production changed from being a specific, differentiated phenomenon into a perpetually self-identical process, which concealed the ‘essential diversity’ [wesentliche Verschiedenheit] of the various forms in which it manifested itself. This was the error committed by economists who claimed to show ‘the eternity and harmoniousness of the existing social relations’ (Marx 1973: 85). In contrast to their procedure, Marx maintained that it was the specific features of each social-economic formation which made it possible to distinguish it from others, gave the impetus for its development and enabled scholars to understand the real historical changes (Korsch 1938: 78f.).

Although the definition of the general elements of production is ‘segmented many times over and split into different determinations’, some of which ‘belong to all epochs, others to only a few’, there are certainly, among its universal components, human labour and material provided by nature (Marx 1973: 85). For, without a producing subject and a worked-upon object, there could be no production at all. But the economists introduced a third general prerequisite of production: ‘a stock, previously accumulated, of the products of former labour’, that is, capital (Mill 1965: 55). The critique of this last element was essential for Marx, in order to reveal what he considered to be a fundamental limitation of the economists. It also seemed evident to him that no production was possible without an instrument of labour, if only the human hand, or without accumulated past labour, if only in the form of primitive man’s repetitive exercises. However, while agreeing that capital was past labour and an instrument of production, he did not, like Smith, Ricardo and John Stuart Mill, conclude that it had always existed.

The point is made in greater detail in another section of the Grundrisse, where the conception of capital as ‘eternal’ is seen as a way of treating it only as matter, without regard for its essential ‘formal determination’ (Formbestimmung). According to this,

capital would have existed in all forms of society, and is something altogether unhistorical. … The arm, and especially the hand, are then capital. Capital would be only a new name for a thing as old as the human race, since every form of labour, including the least developed, hunting, fishing, etc., presupposes that the product of prior labour is used as means for direct, living labour. … If, then, the specific form of capital is abstracted away, and only the content is emphasized, … of course nothing is easier than to demonstrate that capital is a necessary condition for all human production. The proof of this proceeds precisely by abstraction [Abstraktion] from the specific aspects which make it the moment of a specifically developed historical stage of human production [Moment einer besonders entwickelten historischen Stufe der menschlichen Production]. (Marx 1973: 257-8)

In these passages Marx refers to abstraction in the negative sense: to abstract is to leave out the real social conditions, to conceive of capital as a thing rather than a relation, and hence to advance an interpretation that is false. In the ‘Introduction’ Marx accepts the use of abstract categories, but only if analysis of the general aspect does not obliterate the particular aspect or blur the latter in the indistinctness of the former. If the error is made of ‘conceiving capital in its physical attribute only as instrument of production, while entirely ignoring the economic form [ökonomischen Form ] which makes the instrument of production into capital’ (Marx 1973: 591), one falls into the ‘crude inability to grasp the real distinctions’ and a belief that ‘there exists only one single economic relation which takes on different names’ (Marx 1973: 249). To ignore the differences expressed in the social relation means to abstract from the differentia specifica, that is the nodal point of everything. Thus, in the ‘Introduction’, Marx writes that ‘capital is a general [allgemeines], eternal relation of nature’, ‘that is, if I leave out just the specific quality which alone makes “instrument of production” and “stored-up labour” into capital’ (Marx 1973: 86).
In fact, Marx had already criticized the economists’ lack of historical sense in The Poverty of Philosophy:

Economists have a singular method of procedure. There are only two kinds of institutions for them, artificial and natural. The institutions of feudalism are artificial institutions, those of the bourgeoisie are natural institutions. In this they resemble the theologians, who likewise establish two kinds of religion. Every religion which is not theirs is an invention of men, while their own is an emanation from God. When the economists say that present-day relations – the relations of bourgeois production – are natural, they imply that these are the relations in which wealth is created and productive forces developed in conformity with the laws of nature. These relations therefore are themselves natural laws independent of the influence of time. They are eternal laws which must always govern society. Thus there has been history, but there is no longer any. (Marx 1976: 174)

For this to be plausible, economists depicted the historical circumstances prior to the birth of the capitalist mode of production as ‘results of its presence’ with its very own features (Marx 1973: 460). As Marx puts it in the Grundrisse:

The bourgeois economists who regard capital as an eternal and natural (not historical) form of production then attempt … to legitimize it again by formulating the conditions of its becoming as the conditions of its contemporary realization; i.e. presenting the moments in which the capitalist still appropriates as not-capitalist – because he is still becoming – as the very conditions in which he appropriates as capitalist.’ (Marx 1973: 460)

From a historical point of view, the profound difference between Marx and the classical economists is that, in his view, ‘capital did not begin the world from the beginning, but rather encountered production and products already present, before it subjugated them beneath its process’ (Marx 1973: 675). For ‘the new productive forces and relations of production do not develop out of nothing, nor drop from the sky, nor from the womb of the self-positing Idea; but from within and in antithesis to the existing development of production and the inherited, traditional relations of property’ (Marx 1973: 278). Similarly, the circumstance whereby producing subjects are separated from the means of production – which allows the capitalist to find propertyless workers capable of performing abstract labour (the necessary requirement for the exchange between capital and living labour) – is the result of a process that the economists cover with silence, which ‘forms the history of the origins of capital and wage labour’ (Marx 1973: 489).

A number of passages in the Grundrisse criticize the way in which economists portray historical as natural realities. It is self-evident to Marx, for example, that money is a product of history: ‘to be money is not a natural attribute of gold and silver’, but only a determination they first acquire at a precise moment of social development (Marx 1973: 239). The same is true of credit. According to Marx, lending and borrowing was a phenomenon common to many civilizations, as was usury, but they ‘no more constitute credit than working constitutes industrial labour or free wage labour. And credit as an essential, developed relation of production appears historically only in circulation based on capital’ (Marx 1973: 535). Prices and exchange also existed in ancient society, ‘but the increasing determination of the former by costs of production, as well as the increasing dominance of the latter over all relations of production, only develop fully … in bourgeois society, the society of free competition’; or ‘what Adam Smith, in the true eighteenth-century manner, puts in the prehistoric period, the period preceding history, is rather a product of history’ (Marx 1973: 156). Furthermore, just as he criticized the economists for their lack of historical sense, Marx mocked Proudhon and all the socialists who thought that labour productive of exchange value could exist without developing into wage labour, that exchange value could exist without turning into capital, or that there could be capital without capitalists (see Marx 1973: 248).

Marx’s chief aim in the opening pages of the ‘Introduction’ is therefore to assert the historical specificity of the capitalist mode of production: to demonstrate, as he would again affirm in Capital, vol. III, that it ‘is not an absolute mode of production’ but ‘merely historical, transitory’ (Marx 1998: 240). This viewpoint implies a different way of seeing many questions, including the labour process and its various characteristics. In the Grundrisse Marx wrote that ‘the bourgeois economists are so much cooped up within the notions belonging to a specific historic stage of social development that the necessity of the objectification of the powers of social labour appears to them as inseparable from the necessity of their alienation’ (Marx 1973: 832). Marx repeatedly took issue with this presentation of the specific forms of the capitalist mode of production as if they were constants of the production process as such. To portray wage labour not as a distinctive relation of a particular historical form of production but as a universal reality of man’s economic existence was to imply that exploitation and alienation had always existed and would always continue to exist.

Evasion of the specificity of capitalist production therefore had both epistemological and political consequences. On the one hand, it impeded understanding of the concrete historical levels of production; on the other hand, in defining present conditions as unchanged and unchangeable, it presented capitalist production as production in general and bourgeois social relations as natural human relations. Accordingly, Marx’s critique of the theories of economists had a twofold value. As well as underlining that a historical characterization was indispensable for an understanding of reality, it had the precise political aim of countering the dogma of the immutability of the capitalist mode of production. A demonstration of the historicity of the capitalist order would also be proof of its transitory character and of the possibility of its elimination.

An echo of the ideas contained in this first part of the ‘Introduction’ may be found in the closing pages of Capital, vol. III, where Marx writes that ‘identification of the social production process with the simple labour process’ is a ‘confusion’ (Marx 1998: 870). For,

to the extent that the labour process is solely a process between man and Nature, its simple elements remain common to all social forms of development. But each specific historical form of this process further develops its material foundations and social forms. Whenever a certain stage of maturity has been reached, the specific historical form is discarded and makes way for a higher one.
(Marx 1998: 870)

Capitalism is not the only stage in human history, nor is it the final one. Marx foresees that it will be succeeded by an organization of society based upon ‘communal production’ (gemeinschaftliche Production), in which the labour product is ‘from the beginning directly general’ (Marx 1973: 172).

Production as a totality
In the succeed pages of the ‘Introduction’, Marx passes to a deeper consideration of production and begins with the following definition: ‘All production is appropriation [Aneignung] of nature on the part of an individual within and through a specific form of society [bestimmten Gesellschaftsform]’ (Marx 1973: 87). There was no ‘production in general’ – since it was divided into agriculture, cattle-raising, manufacturing and other branches – but nor could it be considered as ‘only particular production’. Rather, it was ‘always a certain social body [Gesellschaftskörper], a social subject [gesellschaftliches Subject], active in a greater or sparser totality of branches of production’ (Marx 1973: 86).

Here again, Marx developed his arguments through a critical encounter with the main exponents of economic theory. Those who were his contemporaries had acquired the habit of prefacing their work with a section on the general conditions of production and the circumstances which, to a greater or lesser degree, advanced productivity in various societies. For Marx, however, such preliminaries set forth ‘flat tautologies’ (Marx 1973: 86) and, in the case of John Stuart Mill, were designed to present production ‘as encased in eternal natural laws independent of history’ and bourgeois relations as ‘inviolable natural laws on which society in the abstract is founded’ (Marx 1973: 87). According to Mill, ‘the laws and conditions of the production of wealth partake of the character of physical truths. … It is not so with the distribution of wealth. That is a matter of human institutions solely’ (Mill 1965: 199). Marx considered this a ‘crude tearing-apart of production and distribution and of their real relationship’ (Marx 1973: 87), since, as he put it elsewhere in the Grundrisse, ‘the “laws and conditions” of the production of wealth and the laws of the “distribution of wealth” are the same laws under different forms, and both change, undergo the same historic process; are as such only moments of a historic process’ (Marx 1973: 832).

After making these points, Marx proceeds in the second section of the ‘Introduction’ to examine the general relationship of production to distribution, exchange and consumption. This division of political economy had been made by James Mill, who had used these four categories as the headings for the four chapters comprising his book of 1821, Elements of Political Economy , and before him, in 1803, by Jean-Baptiste Say, who had divided his Traité d’économie politique into three books on the production, distribution and consumption of wealth.

Marx reconstructed the interconnection among the four rubrics in logical terms, in accordance with Hegel’s schema of universality – particularity – individuality: (see Hegel 1969: 666f.) ‘Production, distribution, exchange and distribution form a regular syllogism; production is the universality, distribution and exchange the particularity, and consumption the individuality in which the whole is joined together’. In other words, production was the starting-point of human activity, distribution and exchange were the twofold intermediary point – the former being the mediation operated by society, the latter by the individual – and consumption became the end point. However, as this was only a ‘shallow coherence’, Marx wished to analyse more deeply how the four spheres were correlated with one another (Marx 1973: 89).

His first object of investigation was the relationship between production and consumption, which he explained as one of immediate identity: ‘production is consumption’ and ‘consumption is production’. With the help of Spinoza’s principle of determinatio est negatio, he showed that production was also consumption, in so far as the productive act used up the powers of the individual as well as raw materials (see Spinoza 1955: 370). Indeed, the economists had already highlighted this aspect with their terms ‘productive consumption’ and differentiated this from ‘consumptive production’. The latter occurred only after the product was distributed, re-entering the sphere of reproduction, and constituting ‘consumption proper’. In productive consumption ‘the producer objectifies himself’, while in consumptive production ‘the object he created personifies itself’ (Marx 1973: 90-1).

Another characteristic of the identity of production and consumption was discernible in the reciprocal ‘mediating movement’ that developed between them. Consumption gives the product its ‘last finish’ and, by stimulating the propensity to produce, ‘creates the need for new production’ (Marx 1973: 91). In the same way, production furnishes not only the object for consumption, but also ‘a need for the material’. Once the stage of natural immediacy is left behind, need is generated by the object itself; ‘production not only creates an object for the subject, but also a subject for the object’ – that is, a consumer (Marx 1973: 92). So,

production produces consumption (1) by creating the material for it; (2) by determining the manner of consumption; and (3) by creating the products, initially posited by it as objects, in the form of a need felt by the consumer. It thus produces the object of consumption, the manner of consumption and the motive of consumption.
(Marx 1973: 92)

To recapitulate: there is a process of unmediated identity between production and consumption; these also mediate each other in turn, and create each other as they are realized. Nevertheless, Marx thought it a mistake to consider the two as identical – as Say and Proudhon did, for example. For, in the last analysis, ‘consumption as urgency, as need, is itself an intrinsic moment of productive activity’.

Marx then turns to analyse the relationship between production and distribution. Distribution, he writes, is the link between production and consumption, and ‘in accordance with social laws’ it determines what share of the products is due to the producers (Marx 1973: 94). The economists present it as a sphere autonomous from production, so that in their treatises the economic categories are always posed in a dual manner. Land, labour and capital figure in production as the agents of distribution, while in distribution, in the form of ground rent, wages and profit, they appear as sources of income. Marx opposes this split, which he judges illusory and mistaken, since the form of distribution ‘is not an arbitrary arrangement, which could be different; it is, rather, posited by the form of production itself’ (Marx 1973: 594). In the ‘Introduction’ he expresses his thinking as follows:

An individual who participates in production in the form of wage labour shares in the products, in the results of production, in the form of wages. The structure of distribution is completely determined by the structure of production. Distribution itself a product of production, not only in its object, in that only the results of production can be distributed, but also in its form, in that the specific kind of participation in production determines the specific forms of distribution, i.e. the pattern of participation in distribution. It is altogether an illusion to posit land in production, ground rent in distribution, etc.
(Marx 1973: 95)

Those who saw distribution as autonomous from production conceived of it as mere distribution of products. In reality, it included two important phenomena that were prior to production: distribution of the instruments of production and distribution of the members of society among various kinds of production, or what Marx defined as ‘subsumption of the individuals under specific relations of production’ (Marx 1973: 96). These two phenomena meant that in some historical cases – for example, when a conquering people subjects the vanquished to slave labour, or when a redivision of landed estates gives rise to a new type of production (see Marx 1973: 96) – ‘distribution is not structured and determined by production, but rather the opposite, production by distribution’ (Marx 1973: 96). The two were closely linked to each other, since, as Marx puts it elsewhere in the Grundrisse, ‘these modes of distribution are the relations of production themselves, but sub specie distributionis’ (Marx 1973: 832). Thus, in the words of the ‘Introduction’, ‘to examine production while disregarding this internal distribution within it is obviously an empty abstraction’.

The link between production and distribution, as conceived by Marx, sheds light not only on his aversion to the way in which John Stuart Mill rigidly separated the two but also on his appreciation of Ricardo for having posed the need ‘to grasp the specific social structure of modern production’ (Marx 1973: 96). The English economist did indeed hold that ‘to determine the laws which regulate this distribution is the principal problem in Political Economy’ (Ricardo 1973: 3), and therefore he made distribution one of his main objects of study, since ‘he conceived the forms of distribution as the most specific expression into which the agents of production of a given society are cast’ (Marx 1973: 96). For Marx, too, distribution was not reducible to the act through which the shares of the aggregate product were distributed among members of society; it was a decisive element of the entire productive cycle. Yet this conviction did not overturn his thesis that production was always the primary factor within the production process as a whole:

The question of the relation between this distribution and the production it determines belongs evidently within production itself. … [P]roduction does indeed have its determinants and preconditions, which form its moments. At the very beginning these may appear as spontaneous, natural. But by the process of production itself they are transformed from natural into historic determinants, and if they appear to one epoch as natural presuppositions of production, they were its historic product for another.
(Marx 1973: 97, trans. modified)

For Marx, then, although the distribution of the instruments of production and the members of society among the various productive branches ‘appears as a presupposition of the new period of production, it is … itself in turn a product of production, not only of historical production generally, but of the specific historic mode of production’ (Marx 1973: 98).

When Marx lastly examined the relationship between production and exchange, he also considered the latter to be part of the former. Not only was ‘the exchange of activities and abilities’ among the workforce, and of the raw materials necessary to prepare the finished product, an integral part of production; the exchange between dealers was also wholly determined by production and constituted a ‘producing activity’. Exchange becomes autonomous from production only in the phase where ‘the product is exchanged directly for consumption’. Even then, however, its intensity, scale and characteristic features are determined by the development and structure of production, so that ‘in all its moments … exchange appears as either directly comprised in production or determined by it’.

At the end of his analysis of the relationship of production to distribution, exchange and consumption, Marx draws two conclusions: (1) production should be considered as a totality; and (2) production as a particular branch within the totality predominates over the other elements. On the first point he writes: ‘The conclusion we reach is not that production, distribution, exchange and consumption are identical, but that they all form the members of a totality, distinctions within a unity’ (Marx 1973: 99). Employing the Hegelian concept of totality, Marx sharpened a theoretical instrument – more effective than the limited processes of abstraction used by the economists – one capable of showing, through the reciprocal action among parts of the totality, that the concrete was a differentiated unity (see Hall 2003: 127) of plural determinations and relations, and that the four separate rubrics of the economists were both arbitrary and unhelpful for an understanding of real economic relations. In Marx’s conception, however, the definition of production as an organic totality did not point to a structured, self-regulating whole within which uniformity was always guaranteed among its various branches. On the contrary, as he wrote in a section of the Grundrisse dealing with the same argument: the individual moments of production ‘may or may not find each other, balance each other, correspond to each other. The inner necessity of moments which belong together, and their indifferent, independent existence towards one another, are already a foundation of contradictions’. Marx argued that it was always necessary to analyse these contradictions in relation to capitalist production (not production in general), which was not at all ‘the absolute form for the development of the forces of production’, as the economists proclaimed, but had its ‘fundamental contradiction’ in overproduction (Marx 1973: 415).

Marx’s second conclusion made production the ‘predominant moment’ (übergreifende Moment) over the other parts of the ‘totality of production’ (Totalität der Production) (Marx 1973: 86). It was the ‘real point of departure’ (Ausgangspunkt) (Marx 1973: 94), from which ‘the process always returns to begin anew’, and so ‘a definite production determines a definite consumption, distribution and exchange as well as definite relations between these different moments’ (Marx 1973: 99). But such predominance did not cancel the importance of the other moments, nor their influence on production. The dimension of consumption, the transformations of distribution and the size of the sphere of exchange – or of the market – were all factors jointly defining and impacting on production.

Here again Marx’s insights had a value both theoretical and political. In opposition to other socialists of his time, who maintained that it was possible to revolutionize the prevailing relations of production by transforming the instrument of circulation, he argued that this clearly demonstrated their ‘misunderstanding’ of ‘the inner connections between the relations of production, of distribution and of circulation’ (Marx 1973: 122). For not only would a change in the form of money leave unaltered the relations of production and the other social relations determined by them; it would also turn out to be a nonsense, since circulation could change only together with a change in the relations of production. Marx was convinced that ‘the evil of bourgeois society is not to be remedied by “transforming” the banks or by founding a rational “money system”’, nor through bland palliatives such as the granting of free credit, nor through the chimera of turning workers into capitalists (Marx 1973: 134). The central question remained the overcoming of wage labour, and first and foremost that concerned production.

In search of method
At this point in his analysis, Marx addressed the major methodological issue: how to reproduce reality in thought? How to construct an abstract categorial model capable of comprehending and representing society? The third and most important section of his ‘Introduction’ is devoted to ‘the relationship between scientific presentation and the real movement’ (Marx 1973: 86). It is not a definitive account, however, but offers insufficiently developed ways of theorizing the problem and barely sketches out a number of points. Certain passages contain unclear assertions, which sometimes contradict one another, and more than once the adoption of a language influenced by Hegelian terminology adds ambiguities to the text. Marx was elaborating his method when he wrote these pages, and they display the traces and trajectories of his search.

Like other great thinkers before him, Marx started from the question of where to begin – or, in his case, what political economy should take as its analytic starting-point. The first hypothesis he examined was that of beginning ‘with the real and the concrete, with the real precondition’, ‘the foundation and subject of the entire social act of production’: the population (Marx 1973: 100). Marx considered that this path, taken by the founders of political economy, William Petty and Pierre de Boisguillebert, was inadequate and erroneous. To begin with such an indeterminate entity as the population would involve an overly generic image of the whole; it would be incapable of demonstrating the division into classes (bourgeoisie, landowners and proletariat), since these could be differentiated only through knowledge of their respective foundations: capital, land ownership and wage labour. With an empirical approach of that kind, concrete elements like the state would dissolve into abstract determinations such as division of labour, money or value.

Nevertheless, though judging this method inadequate for an interpretation of reality, in another part of the Grundrisse Marx recognized that it ‘had a historic value in the first tentative steps of political economy, when the forms still had to be laboriously peeled out of the material, and were, at the cost of great effort, fixed upon as a proper object of study’ (Marx 1973: 853).

No sooner had the eighteenth-century economists finished defining their abstract categories than ‘there began the economic systems, which ascended from simple relations, such as labour, division of labour, need, exchange value, to the level of the state, exchange between nations and the world market’. This procedure, employed by Smith and Ricardo in economics as well as Hegel in philosophy, may be summed up in the thesis that ‘the abstract determinations lead towards a reproduction of the concrete by way of thought’; it was this that Marx described as the ‘scientifically correct method’ [wissenschaftlich richtige Methode]. With the right categories, it was possible ‘to retrace the journey until one finally arrives at population again, only this time not as the chaotic conception of the whole, but as a rich totality of many determinations and relations’ (Marx 1973: 100-1). Hegel, in fact, had written in The Science of Logic that the first requisite for a synthetic and systematic science was to begin:

with the subject matter in the form of a universal. … The prius must be … something simple, something abstracted from the concrete, because in this form alone has the subject-matter the form of the self-related universal. … It is easier for cognition to grasp the abstract simple thought determination than the concrete subject matter, which is a manifold connection of such thought determinations and their relationships. … The universal is in and for itself the first moment of the Notion because it is the simple moment, and the particular is only subsequent to it because it is the mediated moment; and conversely the simple is the more universal, and the concrete … is that which already presupposes the transition from a first. (Hegel 1969: 800-1)

Yet, contrary to what certain commentators on the ‘Introduction’ have argued, Marx’s definition of the ‘scientifically correct method’ does not at all mean that it was the one he subsequently employed himself (Marx 1973: 101). First of all, he did not share the conviction of the economists that their logical reconstruction of the concrete at the level of ideas was a faithful reproduction of reality (see Dal Pra 1965: 461). The procedure synthetically presented in the ‘Introduction’ did, it is true, borrow various elements from Hegel’s method, but it also displayed radical differences. Like Hegel before him, Marx was convinced that ‘the method of rising from the abstract to the concrete is the only way in which thought appropriates the concrete’, that the recomposition of reality in thought should start from the simplest and most general determinations. For both, moreover, the concrete was ‘the concentration of many determinations, hence unity of the diverse’; it appeared in thought as ‘a process of concentration, as a result, not as a point of departure’, although for Marx it was always necessary to keep in mind that the concrete was ‘the point of departure for observation [Anschauung] and conception’.

Beyond this common base, however, there was the difference that ‘Hegel fell into the illusion of conceiving the real as the product of thought’, whereas for Marx ‘this is by no means the process by which the concrete itself comes into being’. In Hegelian idealism, Marx argues, ‘the movement of the categories appears as the real act of production … whose product is the world’; ‘conceptual thinking is the real human being’ and ‘the conceptual world as such is thus the only reality’, not only representing the real world in ideas but also operating as its constitutive process. For Marx, by contrast, the economic categories exist as ‘abstract relation[s] within an already given, concrete, living whole’ (Marx 1973: 101); they ‘express the forms of being, the determinations of existence’ [Daseinsformen, Existenzbestimmungen] (Marx 1973: 106). Exchange value, for instance, presupposes population and the fact that it produces within determinate relations. Marx emphasized several times, in opposition to Hegel, that ‘the concrete totality, [as] a totality of thoughts, [qua] concrete in thought, [is] in fact a product of thinking and comprehending’, but that it is ‘not in any way a product of the concept which thinks and generates itself’. For ‘the real subject retains its autonomous existence outside the head just as before. … Hence, in the theoretical method, too, the subject, society, must always be kept in mind as the presupposition’ (Marx 1973: 101-2).

In reality, however, Marx’s interpretation does not do justice to Hegel’s philosophy. A number of passages in the latter’s work show that, unlike the transcendental idealism of Johann Gottlieb Fichte and the objective idealism of Friedrich Schelling, his thought did not confuse the movement of knowledge with the order of nature, the subject with the object. Thus, in the second paragraph of the Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences, he clearly writes:

[The] thinking study of things may serve, in a general way, as a description of philosophy. … the strictly human and thought-induced phenomena of consciousness do not originally appear in the form of a thought, but as a feeling, a perception, or mental image – all of which aspects must be distinguished from the form of thought proper.
(Hegel 1892: 4)

In the Philosophy of Right, too, in an addition to Paragraph 32 inserted by Eduard Gans in the second edition of 1827, some sentences not only confirm the error of Marx’s interpretation of Hegel but actually demonstrate the way in which they influenced his own reflections (see Jánoska – Bondeli – Kindle and Hofer 1994: 115-9).

[W]e cannot say that property existed [dagewesen] before the family, yet, in spite of that, property must be dealt with first. Consequently you might here raise the question why we do not begin at the highest point, i.e. with the concretely true. The answer is that it is precisely the truth in the form of a result that we are looking for, and for this purpose it is essential to start by grasping the abstract concept itself. What is actual, the shape in which the concept is embodied, is for us therefore the secondary thing and the sequel, even if it were itself first in the actual world. The development we are studying is that whereby the abstract forms reveal themselves not as self-subsistent but as false.
(Hegel 1952: 233)

In the ‘Introduction’, Marx goes on to ask whether the simple categories could exist before, and independently of, the more concrete ones. In the case of possession or property – the category with which Hegel had begun the Philosophy of Right – he maintained that it could not have existed before the emergence of ‘more concrete relations’ such as the family, and that it would be absurd to analyse ‘the individual savage’ as a property-owner. But the question was more complicated. For money existed ‘historically before capital existed, before banks existed, before wage labour existed’(Marx 1973: 102). It appeared before the development of more complex realities, thereby demonstrating that in some cases the sequence of logical categories follows the historical sequence – the more developed as well as the more recent (see Marx 1973: 247) – and ‘the path of abstract thought, rising from the simple to the combined, would correspond to the real historical process’ (Marx 1973: 102). In antiquity, however, money performed a dominant function only in trading nations. Hence it ‘makes a historic appearance in its full intensity only in the most developed conditions of society’; or, ‘although the simpler category may have existed historically before the more concrete, it can achieve its full (intensive and extensive) development precisely in a combined form of society’.

This conclusion applied even more to the category of labour. For, although it appeared with the first civilizing of human beings and seemed to be a very simple process, Marx underlined that, ‘when it is economically conceived …, “labour” is as modern a category as are the relations which create this simple abstraction’ (Marx 1973: 103). The exponents of bullionism and mercantilism had maintained that the source of wealth was lodged in money, and that it therefore had greater importance than labour. Subsequently, the Physiocrats argued that labour was the ultimate creator of wealth, but only in the form of agricultural labour. Smith’s work finally put an end to any ‘limiting specification of wealth-creating activity’, so that now labour was considered no longer in a particular form but as ‘labour as such’: ‘not only manufacturing, or commercial or agricultural labour, but one as well as the others’. In this way, the ‘abstract expression’ was discovered ‘for the simplest and most ancient relation in which human beings – in whatever form of society – play the role of producers’. As in the case of money, the category of ‘labour’ could be extracted only where there was ‘the richest possible concrete development’, in a society where ‘one thing appears as common to many, to all’. Thus, ‘indifference towards any specific kind of labour presupposes a very developed totality of real kinds of labour, of which no single one is any longer predominant’.

In capitalist society, moreover, ‘labour in general’ is not only a category but ‘corresponds to a form of society in which individuals can with ease transfer from one labour to another, and where the specific kind is a mater of chance for them, hence of indifference’. The worker’s labour then loses the corporate, craft character that it had in the past and becomes ‘labour in general’, ‘labour sans phrase’ – ‘not only the category, labour, but labour in reality’(Marx 1973: 104). Wage labour ‘is not this or another labour, but labour pure and simple, abstract labour; absolutely indifferent to its particular specificity [Bestimmtheit], but capable of all specificities’ (Marx 1973: 296). In short, it is a question of ‘a purely mechanical activity, hence indifferent to its particular form’ (Marx 1973: 297).

At the end of his discussion of the relationship between the simplest and the most concrete categories, Marx concluded that in the most modern forms of bourgeois society – he had in mind the United States – the abstraction of the category ‘labour in general’ was becoming ‘true in practice’. Thus, ‘the simplest abstraction, … which modern economics places at the head of its discussions, and which expresses an immeasurably ancient relation valid in all forms of society, nevertheless achieves practical truth as an abstraction only as a category of the most modern society’ (Marx 1973 104-5). Or, as he reaffirmed elsewhere in the Grundrisse, the category ‘becomes real only with the development of a particular material mode of production and of a particular stage in the development of the industrial productive forces’ (Marx 1973: 297).

Indifference to the particular kind of labour is, however, a phenomenon common to a number of historical realities. In this case too, therefore, it was necessary to underline the distinctions: ‘There is a devil of a difference between barbarians who are fit by nature to be used for anything, and civilized people who apply themselves to everything.’ Once again relating the abstraction to real history, Marx found his thesis confirmed:

‘This example of labour shows strikingly how even the most abstract categories, despite their validity – precisely because of their abstractness – for all epochs, are nevertheless, in the specific character of this abstraction, themselves likewise a product of historic relations, and possess their full validity only for and within these relations. (Marx 1973: 105)

Having made this point, Marx turned to another crucial issue. In what order should he set out the categories in the work he was about to write? To the question as to whether the complex should furnish the instruments with which to understand the simple, or the other way round, he decisively opted for the first possibility.

Bourgeois society is the most complex historic organization of production. The categories which express its relations, the comprehension of its structure, thereby also allow insights into the structure and the relations of production of all the vanquished social formations out of whose ruins and elements it built itself up, whose partly still unconquered remnants are carried along with it. (Marx 1973: 105)

It is the present, then, which offers the indications for a reconstruction of the past. ‘Human anatomy contains a key to the anatomy of the ape … [and] the intimations of higher development among the subordinate animal species … can be understood only after the higher development is already known’ (Marx 1973: 105). This well-known statement should not, however, be read in evolutionist terms. Indeed, Marx explicitly criticized the conception of ‘so-called historical evolution’, based on the banality that ‘the latest form regards the previous ones as steps leading up to itself’ (Marx 1973: 106). Unlike the theorists of evolutionism, who posited a naïvely progressive trajectory from the simplest to the most complex organisms, Marx chose to use an opposite, much more complex logical method and elaborated a conception of history marked by the succession of modes of production (ancient, Asiatic, feudal, capitalist), which was meant to explain the positions and functions that the categories assumed within those various modes (cf. Hall 2003: 133). It was bourgeois society, therefore, which provided the clues for an understanding of the economies of previous historical epochs – although, given the profound differences between societies, the clues should be treated with moderation. Marx emphatically repeated that this could not be done ‘in the manner of those economists who smudge over all historical differences and see bourgeois relations in all forms of society’ (Marx 1973: 105).

Although this argument is in line with those expressed in previous works, Marx here tackles differently the thorny question of the order to be assigned to the economic categories. He had already addressed it in The Poverty of Philosophy, where, in opposition to Proudhon’s wish to follow not ‘history in accordance with the order of events, but in accordance with the succession of ideas’ (Proudhon 1972: 184), he had criticized the idea of ‘constructing the world by the movement of thought’ (Marx 1976: 175). Thus in 1847, in his polemic with the logical-dialectical method employed by Proudhon and Hegel, Marx had preferred a rigorously historical sequence. But ten years later, in the ‘Introduction’, his position changed: he rejected the criterion of chronological succession for the scientific categories, in favour of a logical method with historical-empirical checks. Since the present helped one to understand the past, or the structure of man the structure of the ape, it was necessary to begin the analysis from the most mature stage, capitalist society, and more particularly from the element that predominated there over all others: capital. ‘Capital is the all-dominating economic power of bourgeois society. It must form the starting-point as well as the finishing-point’ (Marx 1973: 107).’ And Marx concluded:

It would therefore be unfeasible and wrong to let the economic categories follow one another in the same sequence as that in which they were historically decisive. Their sequence is determined, rather, by their relation to one another in modern bourgeois society, which is precisely the opposite of that which seems to be their natural order or which corresponds to historical development. The point is not the historic position of the economic relations in the succession of different forms of society. Even less is it their sequence ‘in the idea’ (Proudhon) (a muddy notion of historic movement). Rather, their order within modern bourgeois society. (Marx 1973: 107-8)

In essence, setting out the categories in a precise logical order and the working of real history do not coincide with each other – and moreover, as Marx wrote in the manuscripts for the third volume of Capital, ‘all science would be superfluous if the outward appearance and the essence of things directly coincided’ (Marx 1998: 804).

Marx, then, arrived at his own synthesis by diverging from the empiricism of the early economists, which yielded a dissolution of concrete elements into abstract definitions; from the method of the classical economists, which reduced thought about reality to reality itself; from philosophical idealism – including, in Marx’s view, Hegel’s philosophy – which he accused of giving thought the capacity to produce the concrete; from gnoseological conceptions that rigidly counterposed forms of thought and objective reality; from historicism and its dissolution of the logical into the historical; and, finally, from his own conviction in The Poverty of Philosophy that he was essentially following ‘the march of history’ (Marx 1976: 172). His aversion to establishing a one-to-one correspondence between the concrete and thought led him to separate the two by recognizing the specificity of the latter and assigning to the former an existence independent of thought, so that the order of exposition of the categories differed from that which manifested itself in the relations of the real historical process (cf. Althusser and Balibar 1979: 47-8, 87). To avoid limiting the cognitive process to a mere repetition of the stages of what had happened in history, it was necessary to use a process of abstraction, and therefore categories that allowed for the interpretation of society in all its complexity. On the other hand, to be really useful for this purpose, abstraction had to be constantly compared with various historical realities, in such a way that the general logical determinations could be distinguished from the concrete historical relations. Marx’s conception of history thereby gained in efficacy and incisiveness: once a symmetry of logical order and actual historical order had been rejected, the historical became decisive for the understanding of reality, while the logical made it possible to conceive history as something other than a flat chronology of events. For Marx, it was not necessary to reconstruct the historical genesis of every economic relationship in order to understand society and then give an adequate description of it. As he put it in one passage of the Grundrisse:

our method indicates the points where historical investigation must enter in, or where bourgeois economy as a merely historical form of the production process points beyond itself to earlier historical modes of production. In order to develop the laws of bourgeois economy, therefore, it is not necessary to write the real history of the relations of production. But the correct observation and deduction of these laws, as having themselves become in history, always leads to primary equations … which point towards a past lying behind this system. These indications, together with a correct grasp of the present, then also offer the key to the understanding of the past …. This correct view likewise leads at the same time to the points at which there is an indication of the overcoming of the present form of production relations – and hence foreshadowings of the future, a movement of becoming. Just as, on one side, the pre-bourgeois phases appear as merely historical, i.e. superseded presuppositions, so do the contemporary conditions of production likewise appear as engaged in superseding themselves and hence in positing the historical presuppositions for a new society. (Marx 1973: 460-1, trans. modified)

The method developed by Marx had provided him with tools not only to understand the differences among all the modes in which production had manifested itself in history, but also to discern in the present the tendencies prefiguring a new mode of production and therefore confounding all those who had proclaimed the inalterability of capitalism. His own research, including in epistemology, never had an exclusively theoretical motive; it was always driven by the need to interpret the world in order to engage better in the political struggle.

In fact, Marx broke off the section on method with a sketch of the order in which he intended to write his ‘Economics’. It is the first of the many plans for his work that he drafted in the course of his life, one that goes back over his reflections in the preceding pages of the ‘Introduction’. Before he actually began to compose the Grundrisse, he had intended to deal with:

(1) the general, abstract determinations which obtain in more or less all forms of society [… ; then] (2) the categories which make up the inner structure of bourgeois society and on which the fundamental classes rest [:] capital, wage labour, landed property [;] (3) concentration of bourgeois society in the form of the state. Viewed in relation to itself [;] (4) the international relation of production. … International exchange [; and] (5) The world market and crises. (Marx 1973: 108)

Such at least was Marx’s schema in August 1857, which subsequently underwent so many changes.

The uneven relationship between material and intellectual production
The last section of the ‘Introduction’ comprises a brief and fragmentary list of eight arguments that Marx intended to deal with in his work, plus a few considerations on the relationship between Greek art and modern society. On the eight points, Marx’s main notes concern: his conviction that the characteristics of wage labour manifested themselves in the army even earlier than in bourgeois society; the idea of a dialectic between productive forces and relations of production; and what he calls the ‘uneven development’ (ungleiche Entwicklung) between relations of production and legal relations, particularly the derivation of the law of nascent bourgeois society from Roman private law. All this is by way of a memorandum, however, without any structure, and it provides only a vague idea of Marx’s thinking on these matters.

His reflections on art are somewhat more developed, focusing on the ‘uneven relationship [ungleiche Verhältniß] between material production and artistic development’ (Marx 1973: 109, trans. modified). Marx had already tackled the relationship between production and forms of consciousness in two early works. In the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844 he had argued that ‘religion, family, state, law, morality, science, art, etc., are only particular modes of production, and fall under its general law’ (Marx 1975b: 297), and in The German Ideology he had declared:

The production of ideas, of conceptions, of consciousness, is at first directly interwoven with the material activity and the material intercourse of men …. Conceiving, thinking, the mental intercourse of men appear at this stage as the direct efflux (direkter Ausfluß) of their material behaviour. (Marx and Engels 1976: 36)

In the ‘Introduction’, however, far from affirming the kind of rigid parallelism that many ostensible Marxists later postulated, Marx stressed that there was no direct relationship between social-economic development and artistic production. Reworking certain ideas in The Historical View of the Literature of the South of Europe by Leonard Simonde de Sismondi, which he had read and excerpted in one of his 1852 notebooks, he now wrote: ‘In the case of the arts, it is well known that certain periods of their flowering are out of all proportion to the general development of society, hence also to the material foundation (materiellen Grundlage), the skeletal structure … of its organization’. He also pointed out that certain art forms – the epic, for instance – ‘are possible only at an undeveloped stage of artistic development. If this is the case with the relation between different kinds of art within the realm of the arts, it is already less puzzling that it is the case in the relation of the entire realm to the general development of society’ (Marx 1973: 110). Greek art presupposed Greek mythology, that is, an ‘unconsciously artistic’ representation of social forms. But, in an advanced society such as that of the modern age, in which people conceive of nature rationally, not as an external power standing over and against them, mythology loses its raison d’être and the epic can no longer be repeated: ‘Is Achilles possible with powder and lead? Or the Iliad with the printing press …? Do not the song and the saga and the muse necessarily come to an end with the printer’s bar, hence do not the necessary conditions of epic poetry vanish’ (Marx 1973: 111)?

For Marx, then, art and intellectual production in general must be investigated in their relationship to the material conditions of society, but without drawing a rigid correspondence between the two spheres. Otherwise one would fall into Voltaire’s error (recalled by Marx in his economic manuscripts of 1861-3) of thinking that ‘because we are further ahead than the ancients in mechanics’ we should ‘be able to make an epic too’ (Marx 1989a: 182-3).

Having considered the artist as a creating subject, Marx turned to artistic production and the public that derives enjoyment from it. This presented the greatest difficulties of interpretation. The difficulty was ‘not in understanding that the Greek arts and epic are bound up with certain forms of social development’, but ‘that they still afford us artistic pleasure and that in a certain respect they count as a norm and as an unattainable model’. The real problem was to understand why the artistic creations of antiquity were still a source of enjoyment for modern men and women. According to Marx, the answer was that the Greek world represents ‘the historic childhood of humanity’, a period that exercises an ‘eternal charm’ as ‘a stage never to return’ (Marx 1973: 111). Hence the conclusion:

The charm of their art for us is not in contradiction to the undeveloped stage of society on which it grew. [It] is its result, rather, and is inextricably bound up … with the fact that the unripe social conditions under which it arose, and could alone arise, can never return (Marx 1973: 111)

The value of Marx’s statements on aesthetics in the ‘Introduction’ does not, however, lie in the sketchy and sometimes unconvincing solutions they offer, but rather in his anti-dogmatic approach as to how the forms of material production are related to intellectual creations and behaviour. His awareness of their ‘uneven development’ involved rejection of any schematic procedure that posited a uniform relationship among the various spheres of the social totality (Marx 1973: 109). Even the well-known thesis in the ‘Preface’ to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, published two years after Marx wrote the ‘Introduction’ – ‘the mode of production of material life conditions the general process of social, political and intellectual life’ (Marx 1987a: 263) – should not be interpreted in a determinist sense; it should be clearly distinguished from the narrow and predictable reading of ‘Marxism-Leninism’, in which the superstructural phenomena of society are merely a reflection of the material existence of human beings.

Conclusion
When Marx embarked on the Grundrisse, he intended to preface his ‘Economics’ with a section on his research methodology. The ‘Introduction’ was not composed simply for the purpose of self-clarification; it was supposed to contain, as in the writings of other economists, the author’s preliminary observations on his general subject. In June 1859, however, when Marx sent the first part of his studies for publication as A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, he decided to omit the section setting forth his motivation:

A general introduction, which I had drafted, is omitted, since on further consideration it seems to me confusing to anticipate results which still have to be substantiated, and the reader who really wishes to follow me will have to decide to advance from the particular to the general’ (von dem Einzelnen zum Allgemeinen aufzusteigen) (Marx 1987: 261)

Hence, the guiding aim of 1857 – ‘rising from the abstract to the concrete’ (Marx 1973: 101) – changed in the text of 1859 to ‘to advance from the particular to the general’ (Marx 1987a: 261). The starting-point of the ‘Introduction’ – the most abstract and universal determinations – was replaced with a concrete and historically determined reality: the commodity, but, since the text of 1857 had remained unpublished, no explanation was given of the change. In fact, already in the last passage of the Grundrisse, after hundreds of pages in which he had scrupulously analysed the capitalist mode of production and the concepts of political economy, Marx asserted that ‘the first category in which bourgeois wealth presents itself is that of the commodity’ (Marx 1973: 881). He would devote to its investigation the first chapter both of the A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy and of Capital, where the commodity is defined as the ‘elementary form’ (Marx 1996: 45, trans. modified) of capitalist society, the particular with whose analysis the research had to begin.

Instead of the planned introduction, Marx opened the work of 1859 with a brief ‘Preface’ in which he succinctly outlined his intellectual biography and the so-called materialist conception of history. Subsequently he no longer engaged in the discourse on method, except on very rare occasions and with a few swift observations. Certainly the most important of these was the 1873 ‘Postscript’ to the first volume of Capital, in which, having been roused by the reviews that accompanied its publication, he could not refrain from expressing himself about his method of investigation and revisiting some of the themes present in the ‘Introduction’. Another reason for this was the need he felt to assert the difference between method of exposition and method of investigation: whereas the former could start with the general, moving from the universal form to historically determined forms and hence – in a confirmation of the formulation of 1857 – ‘rising from the abstract to the concrete’, the latter had to start from the immediate reality and, as he put it in 1859, move ‘from the particular to the general’:

the method of presentation [Darstellungsweise] must differ in form from that of inquiry [Forschungsweise]. The latter has to appropriate the material in detail, to analyse its different forms of development, to trace out their inner connexion. Only after this work is done, can the actual movement be adequately described. (Marx 1996: 19)

In his work after the 1857 ‘Introduction’, then, Marx no longer wrote on questions of method in the open and problematizing way that had characterized that text but expressed his finished ideas on them without betraying the complex genesis through which they had been worked out (cf. Carver 1975: 135). For this reason, too, the pages of the ‘Introduction’ are extraordinarily important. In a close encounter with the ideas of some of the greatest economists and philosophers, Marx there reaffirms profound convictions and arrives at significant theoretical acquisitions. First of all, he insists again on the historical specificity of the capitalist mode of production and its social relations. Second, he considers production, distribution, exchange and consumption as a totality, in which production constitutes the element predominating over the other parts of the whole. Moreover, with regard to the reproduction of reality in thought, Marx does not resort to a merely historical method but makes use of abstraction, having come to recognize its value for the construction of the path of knowledge. Finally, he underlines the uneven relationship that obtains between the development of the relations of production and intellectual relations.

In the hundred years since they were first published, these reflections have made the ‘Introduction’ an indispensable theoretical text as well as a fascinating one from a literary point of view, for all serious interpreters and readers of Marx. This will surely be the case also for those who come anew to his work in future generations.

Translated from the Italian by Patrick Camiller

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Categories
Book chapter

Marx’s Life at the Time of the Grundrisse

The date with the revolution
In 1848 Europe was shaken by a succession of numerous popular insurrections inspired by the principles of political freedom and social justice. The weakness of a newly born workers’ movement, the bourgeoisie’s renunciation of these ideals, which it had initially shared, the violent military repression and the economic prosperity generated the defeat of the revolutionary uprisings everywhere, and the powers of reaction firmly regained the reins of state governments.

Marx supported the popular insurrections on the daily Neue Rheinische Zeitung. Organ der Demokratie, of which he was founder and chief editor. From the newspaper columns he carried out an intense activity of agitation, supporting the causes of the insurgents and urging the proletariat to promote ‘the social and republican revolution’ (Marx 1977: 178). In that period he lived between Brussels, Paris and Cologne, and travelled to Berlin, Vienna, Hamburg and many other German cities, establishing new connections to strengthen and develop unfolding struggles. Because of this relentless militant activity, he was issued expulsion orders first from Belgium, then from Prussia, and when the new French government under the Presidency of Louis Bonaparte demanded that he leave Paris, he decided to move to England. He arrived there in the summer of 1849, at the age of 31, to settle in London. Initially convinced that it would be a short stay, he ended up living there, stateless, for the rest of his life.

The first years of his English exile were characterised by the deepest poverty and ill health that contributed to the tragic loss of three of his children. Although Marx’s life was never easy, this period was certainly its worst stage. From December 1850 to September 1856 he lived with his family in a two-bedroom dwelling, at 28 Dean Street in Soho, one of the poorest and shabbiest neighborhoods of the city. The inheritance gained by his wife Jenny von Westphalen, with the death of her uncle and her mother, unexpectedly gave them a glimmer of hope and enabled him to settle his many debts, retrieve his clothes and personal objects from the pawnshop , and relocate to new premises.

In the autumn of 1856, Marx, his wife and their three daughters Jenny, Laura and Eleanor, with their loyal maid Helene Demuth – who was an integral part of the family – moved to the northern suburbs of London, at 9 Grafton Terrace, Kentish Town, where the rent was more affordable. The house, where they stayed until 1864, was built in a recently developed area bereft of beaten paths and connections to the centre, and enveloped in darkness at night. But they finally lived in a real house, the minimal requirement for the family to retain ‘at least a semblance of respectability’(Jenny Marx 1970: 223).

In the course of 1856 Marx completely neglected the study of political economy but the coming of an international financial crisis suddenly changed this situation. In a climate of deep uncertainty, which turned into wide-spread panic thus contributing to bankruptcies everywhere, Marx felt that the right time for action had come again and foreseeing the future development of the recession, he wrote to Friedrich Engels: ‘I don’t suppose we’ll be able to spend much longer here merely watching’ (Marx to Engels, 26 September 1856, Marx–Engels 1983: 70). Engels, already infused with great optimism, predicted a scenario for the future in this way: ‘This time there’ll be an unprecedented day of wrath; the whole of Europe’s industry in ruins,… all markets over-stocked, all the upper classes in the soup, complete bankruptcy of the bourgeoisie, war and disorder to the nth degree. I, too, believe that it will all come to pass in 1857’ (Engels to Marx, 26 September 1856, Marx–Engels 1983: 72).

By the end of a decade that had seen the reflux of the revolutionary movement, and in the course of which Marx and Engels were prevented from actively participating in the European political arena, the two started to exchange messages with renewed confidence in future prospects. The long-awaited date with the revolution now seemed much closer, and for Marx this pointed to one priority above all: resuming his ‘Economics’ and finishing it as soon as possible.

Fighting misery and diseases
In order to dedicate himself to work in this spirit Marx would have needed some tranquillity, but his personal situation was still extremely precarious and did not allow him any respite. Having employed all the resources at his disposal in the relocation to a new home, he was short of money again to pay the first month’s rent. So he reported to Engels, who lived and worked in Manchester at the time, all the troubles of his situation: ‘[I am] without prospects and with soaring family liabilities. I have no idea about what to do and in fact my situation is more desperate than it was five years ago. I thought that I had already tasted the quintessence of this shit, but no’ (Marx to Engels, 20 January 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 93). This statement deeply shocked Engels, who had been sure that after the move his friend would finallybe more settled, so in January 1857 he spent the money received from his father for Christmas to buy a horse and pursue his great passion: fox hunting. However, during this period and for his whole life, Engels never denied all of his support to Marx and his family, and, worried about this difficult juncture, he sent Marx £5 a month and urged him to count on him always in difficult times.

Engels’s role was certainly not limited to financial support. In the deep isolation Marx experienced during those years, but through the large correspondence exchanged between the two, Engels was the only point of reference with whom he could engage in intellectual debate: ‘more than anything I need your opinion’ (Marx to Engels, 2 April 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 303). Engels was the only friend to confide in at difficult times of despondency: ‘write soon because your letters are essential now to help me pluck up. The situation is dire’ (Marx to Engels, 18 March 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 106) Engels was also the companion with whom Marx shared the sarcasm solicited by events: ‘I envy people who can turn summersaults. It must be a great way of ridding the head of bourgeois anger and ordure’ (Marx to Engels, 23 January 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 99).

In fact uncertainty soon became more pressing. Marx’s only income, aside from the help granted by Engels, consisted of payments received from the New-York Tribune, the most widely circulated English language newspaper at the time. The agreement on his contributions, for which he received £2 per article, changed with the economic crisis that also had had repercussions on the American daily. Aside from the American traveller and writer Bayard Taylor, Marx was the only European correspondent not to be fired, but his participation was scaled down from two articles weekly to one, and – ‘although in times of prosperity they never gave me an extra penny’ (Marx to Weydemeyer, 1 February 1859, Marx–Engels 1983: 374) – his payments were halved. Marx humorously recounted the event: ‘There is a certain irony of fate in my being personally embroiled in these damned crises’ (Marx to Engels, 31 October 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 198).

However, to be able to witness the financial breakdown was an unparalleled entertainment: ‘Nice, too, that the capitalists, who so vociferously opposed the “right to work”, are now everywhere demanding “public support” from their governments and… hence advocating the “right to profit” at public expense’ (Marx to Engels, 8 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 214). Despite his state of anxiety, he announced to Engels that ‘though my own financial distress may be dire indeed, never, since 1849, have I felt so cosy as during this outbreak’ (Marx to Engels, 13 November 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 199).

The beginning of a new editorial project slightly eased the desperation. The editor of the New-York Tribune, Charles Dana, invited Marx to join the editorial committee for The New American Cyclopædia. Lack of money drove him to accept the offer, but he entrusted most of the work to Engels in order to dedicate more time to his research. In their division of labour between July 1857 and November 1860, Engels edited military entries – i.e. the majority of the ones commissioned – whilst Marx compiled several biographical sketches. Although the payment of $2 per page was very low, it was still an addition to his disastrous finances. For this reason Engels urged him to get as many entries from Dana as possible: ‘We can easily supply that amount of “unalloyed” erudition, so long as unalloyed Californian gold is substituted for it’ (Engels to Marx, 22 April 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 122).Marx followed the same principle in writing his articles: ‘to be as little concise as possible, so long as it is not insipid’ (Marx to Engels, 22 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 272).

Despite efforts, his financial situation did not improve at all. It actually became so unsustainable that, chased by creditors he compared to ‘hungry wolves’ (Marx to Engels, 8 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 214), and in the absence of coal for heating during the cold winter of that year, in January 1858 he wrote to Engels: ‘if these conditions persist, I would sooner be miles under the ground than go on vegetating this way. Always being a nuisance to others whilst, on top of that, being constantly tormented by personal trifles becomes unbearable in the long run’ (Marx to Engels, 28 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 255). In such circumstances he also had bitter words for the emotional sphere: ‘privately, I think, I lead the most agitated life imaginable. … For people of wide aspiration nothing is more stupid than to get married, thus letting oneself in for the the small miseries of domestic and private life’ (Marx to Engels, 22 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 273).

Poverty was not the only spectre haunting Marx. As with a major part of his troubled existence, he was also affected at the time by several diseases. In March 1857 the excessive labour done at night gave him an eye infection; in April he was hit by toothache; in May he suffered continuous liver complains for which he was ‘submerged in drugs’. Greatly enfeebled, he was incapacitated and unable to work for three weeks. He then reported to Engels: ‘in order that my time should not be entirely wasted I have, in the absence of better things, been mastering the Danish language’; however, ‘if the doctor’s promises are anything to go by, I have prospects of becoming a human being again by next week. Meanwhile I’m still as yellow as a quince and vastly more irritated’ (Marx to Engels, 22 May 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 132).

Shortly afterwards a much graver occurrence befell the Marx family. In early July Jenny gave birth to their last child, but the baby, born too weak, died immediately after. Bereaved once more, Marx confessed to Engels: ‘in itself, this is not a tragedy. But… the circumstances that caused it to happen were such to bring back heartrending memories [probably the death of Edgar (1847-55), the last child he lost]. It is impossible to discuss this issue in a letter’ (Marx to Engels, 8 July 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 143). Engels was highly affected by this statement and replied: ‘things must be really hard for you to write like this. You can accept the death of the little one stoically, but your wife will hardly be able to’ (Engels to Marx, 11 July 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 143).

The situation was further complicated by the fact that Engels fell ill and was seriously hit by a glandular fever, so he could not work for the whole summer. At that point, Marx was in real difficulties. Without his friend’s entries for the encyclopaedia, he needed to buy time, so he pretended to have sent a pile of manuscripts to New York, and that they had been lost in the post. Nonetheless, the pressure did not decrease. When the events surrounding the Indian Sepoy rebellion became more striking, the New-York Tribune expected an analysis from their expert, without knowing that the articles concerning military matters were in fact the work of Engels. Marx, forced by the circumstances to be temporarily in charge of the ‘military department’ (Marx to Engels, 14 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 249) , ventured to claim that the English needed to make a retreat by the beginning of the rainy season. He informed Engels of his choice in these words: ‘it is possible that I’ll look really bad but in any case with a little dialectics I will be able to get out of it. I have, of course, so formulated my words as to be right either way’ (Marx to Engels, 15 August 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 152). However, Marx did not underestimate this conflict and reflecting on its possible effects, he said: ‘in view of the drain of men and bullion which she will cost the English, India is now our best ally’ (Marx to Engels, 14 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 249).

Writing the Grundrisse
Poverty, health problems and all kind of privations — the Grundrisse was written in this tragic context. It was not the product of research by a well-to-do thinker protected by bourgeois tranquillity; on the contrary, it was the labour of an author who experienced hardship and found the energy to carry on only sustained by the belief that, given the advancing economic crisis, his work had become necessary for his times: ‘I am working like mad all through the nights at putting my economic studies together so that I may at least get the outlines (Grundrisse) clear before the deluge’ (Marx to Engels, 8 December 1857, Marx—Engels 1983: 217).

In the autumn of 1857, Engels was still evaluating events with optimism: ‘the American crash is superb and will last for a long time. … Commerce will again be going downhill for the next three or four years. Now we have a chance (Engels to Marx, 29 October 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 195). Thus he was encouraging Marx: ‘in 1848 we were saying: now our moment is coming, and in a certain sense it was, but this time it is coming completely and it is a case of life or death’ (Engels to Marx, 15 November 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 200). On the other hand, without harbouring any doubts about the imminence of the revolution, they both hoped that it would not erupt before the whole of Europe had been invested by the crisis, and so the auspices for the ‘year of strife’ were postponed to 1858 (Engels to Marx, 31 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 236).

As reported in a letter from Jenny von Westphalen to Conrad Schramm, a family friend, the general crisis had its positive effects on Marx: ‘you can imagine how high up the Moor is. He has recovered all his wonted facility and capacity for work, as well as the liveliness and buoyancy of spirit’ (Jenny Marx to Schramm, 8 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 566). In fact Marx began a period of intense intellectual activity, dividing his labours between the articles for the New-York Tribune, the work for The New American Cyclopædia, the unfinished project to write a pamphlet on the current crisis and, obviously, the Grundrisse. However, despite his renewed energies, all these undertakings proved excessive and Engels’s aid became once more indispensable. By the beginning of 1858, following his full recovery from the disease he had suffered, Marx asked him to return to work on the encyclopaedia entries:

sometimes it seems to me that if you could manage to do a few sections every couple of days, it could perhaps act as a check on your drunkenness that, from what I know of Manchester and at the present excited times, seem to me inevitable and far from good for you. … because I really need to finish off my other works, that are taking up all my time, even if the house should come falling on my head! (Marx to Engels, 5 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 238)

Engels accepted Marx’s energetic exhortation and reassured him that, after the holidays, he ‘experienced the need of a quieter and more active life’ (Engels to Marx, 6 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 239). Nonetheless, Marx’s greatest problem was still lack of time, and he repeatedly complained to his friend that ‘whenever I’m at the [British] Museum, there are so many things I need to look up that it’s closing time (now 4 o’clock) before I have so much as looked round. Then there’s the journey there. So much time lost’ (Marx to Engels, 1 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 258). Moreover, in addition to practical difficulties, there were theoretical ones: ‘I have been… so damnably held up by errors in calculation that, in despair, I have applied myself to a revision of algebra. Arithmetic has always been my enemy, but by making a detour via algebra, I shall quickly get back into the way of things’ (Marx to Engels, 11 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 244). Finally, his scrupulousness contributed to slowing the writing of the Grundrisse, as he demanded of himself that he keep on searching for new confirmations to test the validity of his theses. In February he explained the state of his research to Ferdinand Lassalle thus:

Now I want to tell you how my Economics is getting on. The work is written. I have in fact had the final text in hand for some months. But the thing is proceeding very slowly, because no sooner does one set about finally disposing of subjects that have been the main object of years of study, than they start revealing new aspects and demand to be thought out further.

In the same letter, Marx regretted once again the condition to which he was doomed. Being forced to spend a large part of the day on newspaper articles, he wrote: ‘I am not master of my time but rather its slave. Only the nights are left for my own work, which in turn is often disrupted by bilious attacks or recurrences of liver trouble’ (Marx to Lassalle, 22 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 268).

In fact, illness had violently befallen him again. In January 1858 he communicated to Engels that he had been in cure for three weeks: ‘I had exaggerated working at night – only keeping myself going with lemonades and a large quantity of tobacco’ (Marx to Engels, 14 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 247). In March, he was ‘very sickly again’ with his liver: ‘the prolonged work by night and, by day, the numerous petty discomforts resulting from the economical conditions of my domesticity have recently been cause of frequent relapses’ (Marx to Engels, 29 March 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 295). In April, he claimed again: ‘I’ve felt so ill with my bilious complaint this week, that I am incapable of thinking, reading, writing or, indeed, doing anything save the articles for the Tribune. These, of course, cannot be allowed to lapse since I must draw on the curs as soon as possible to avoid bankruptcy’ (Marx to Engels, 2 April 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 296).

At this stage of his life Marx had completely given up political organised and private relations: in letters to his few remaining friend he disclosed that ‘I live like a hermit’ (Marx to Lassalle, 21 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 225), and ‘I seldom see my few acquaintances nor, on the whole, is this any great loss’ (Marx to Schramm, 8 December 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 217). Aside from Engels’s continuous encouragement, the recession and its expansion world-wide also fed his hopes and goaded him into carrying on working: ‘take[n] all in all, the crisis has been burrowing away like a good old mole’ (Marx to Engels, 22 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 274). The correspondence with Engels documents the enthusiasm sparked in him by the progression of events. In January, having read the news from Paris in the Manchester Guardian, he exclaimed: ‘everything seems to be going better than expected’ (Marx to Engels, 23 January 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 252), and at the end of March, commenting on recent developments, he added: ‘in France the bedlam continues most satisfactorily. It is unlikely that conditions will be peaceful beyond the summer’ (Marx to Engels, 29 March 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 296). And whilst a few months earlier he had pessimistically stated that:

After what has happened over the last ten years, any thinking being’s contempt for the masses as for individuals must have increased to such a degree that ‘odi profanum vulgus et arceo’ has almost become an imposed maxim. Nonetheless, all these are themselves philistine states of mind, that will be swept away by the first storm (Marx to Lassalle, 22 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 268).

In May he claimed with some satisfaction that ‘on the whole the present moment of time is a pleasing one. History is apparently about to take again a new start, and the signs of dissolution everywhere are delightful for every mind not bent upon the conservation of things as they are’ (Marx to Lassalle, 31 May 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 323).

Similarly, Engels reported to Marx with great fervour that on the day of the execution of Felice Orsini, the Italian democrat who had tried to assassinate Napoleon III, a major working class protest took place in Paris: ‘at a time of great turmoil it is good to see such a roll-call take place and hear 100,000 men reply “present!”’ (Engels to Marx, 17 March 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 289–90). In view of possible revolutionary developments, he also studied the sizeable number of French troops and warned Marx that to win it would have been necessary to form secret societies in the army, or, as in 1848, for the bourgeoisie to stand against Bonaparte. Finally, he predicted that the secession of Hungary and Italy and the Slavic insurrections would have violently hit Austria, the old reactionary bastion, and that, in addition to this, a generalised counter attack would have spread the crisis to every large city and industrial district. In other words, he was certain that ‘after all, it’s going to be a hard struggle (Engels to Marx, 17 March 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 289). Led by his optimism Engels resumed his horse riding, this time with a further aim; as he wrote to Marx: ‘Yesterday, I took my horse over a bank and hedge five feet and several inches high: the highest I have ever jumped… when we go back to Germany we will certainly have a thing or two to show the Prussian cavalry. Those gentlemen will find it difficult to keep up with me’ (Engels to Marx, 11 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 265). The reply was of smug satisfaction: ‘I congratulate you upon your equestrian performances. But don’t take too many breakneck jumps, as there will be soon more important occasion for risking one’s neck. I don’t believe that cavalry is the speciality in which you will be of the greatest service to Germany’ (Marx to Engels, 14 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 266).

On the contrary, Marx’s life met with further complications. In March, Lassalle informed him that the editor Franz Duncker from Berlin had agreed to publish his work in instalments, but the good news paradoxically turned into another destabilising factor. A new cause of concern added to the others — anxiety — as recounted in the umpteenth medical bulletin addressed to Engels, this time written by Jenny von Westphalen:

His bile and liver are again in a state of rebellion. … The worsening of his condition is largely attributable to mental unrest and agitation which now, after the conclusion of the contract with the publishers are greater than ever and increasing daily, since he finds it utterly impossible to bring the work to a close (Jenny Marx to Engels, 9 April 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 569).

For the whole of April, Marx was hit by the most virulent bile pain he had ever suffered and could not work at all. He concentrated exclusively on the few articles for the New-York Tribune; these were indispensable for his survival, and he had to dictate them to his wife, who was fulfilling ‘the function of secretary’ (Marx to Engels, 23 April 1857, Marx–Engels 1983: 125). As soon as he was able to hold a pen again, he informed Engels that his silence was only due to his ‘inability to write’. Thiswas manifest ‘not only in the literary, but in the literal sense of the word’. He also claimed that ‘the persistent urge to get down to work coupled with the inability to do so contributed to aggravate the disease.’ His condition was still very bad:

I am not capable of working. If I write for a couple of hours, I have to lie down in pain for a couple of days. I expect, damn it, that this state of affairs will come to an end next week. It couldn’t have come at a worst time. Obviously during the winter I overdid my nocturnal labours. Hinc illae lacrimae’ (Marx to Engels, 29 April 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 309) .

Marx tried to fight his illness, but, after taking large amounts of medicines without drawing any benefit from them, he resigned himself to follow the doctor’s advice to change scene for a week and ‘refrain from all intellectual labour for a while’ (Marx to Lassalle, 31 May 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 321). So he decided to visit Engels, to whom he announced: ‘I’ve let my duty go hang’ (Marx to Engels, 1 May 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 312). Naturally, during his 20 days in Manchester, he carried on working: he wrote the ‘Chapter on Capital’ and the last pages of the Grundrisse.

Struggling against bourgeois society
Once back in London Marx should have edited the text in order to send it to the publishers, but, although he was already late, he still delayed its draft. His critical nature won over his practical needs again. As he informed Engels:

During my absence a book by Maclaren covering the entire history of currency came out in London, which, to judge by the excerpts in The Economist, is first-rate. The book isn’t in the library yet… . Obviously I must read it before writing mine. So I sent my wife to the publisher in the City, but to our dismay we discovered that it costs 9/6d, more than the whole of our fighting funds. Hence I would be most grateful if you could send me a mail order for that amount. There probably won’t be anything that’s new to me in the book, but after all the fuss The Economist has made about it, and the excerpts I myself have read, my theoretical conscience won’t allow me to proceed without having looked at it (Marx to Engels, 31 May 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 317).

This vignette is very telling. The ‘dangerousness’ of the reviews in The Economist for family peace; sending his wife Jenny to the City on a mission to deal with theoretical doubts’ the fact that his savings was not enough even to buy a book; the usual pleas to his friend in Manchester that required immediate attention: what can better describe the life of Marx in those years and particularly what his ‘theoretical conscience’ was capable of?

In addition to his complex temperament, ill health and poverty, his usual ‘enemies’, contributed to delay the completion of his work even further. His physical condition worsened again, as reported to Engels: ‘the disease from which I was suffering before leaving Manchester again became chronic, persisting throughout the summer, so that any kind of writing costs me a tremendous effort’ (Marx to Engels, 21 September 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 341). Moreover, those months were marked by unbearable economic concerns that forced him constantly to live with the ‘spectre of an inevitable final catastrophe’ (Marx to Engels, 15 July 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 328). Seized by desperation again, in July Marx sent a letter to Engels that really testifies to the extreme situation he was living in:

It behoves us to put our heads together to see if some way cannot be found out of the present situation, for it has become absolutely untenable. It has already resulted in my being completely disabled from doing any work, partly because I have to waste most of my best time running round in fruitless attempts to raise money, and partly because the strength of my abstraction — due rather, perhaps, to my being physically run down — is no longer a match for domestic miseries. My wife is a nervous wreck because of this misery… . Thus the whole business turns on the fact that what little comes in is never earmarked for the coming month, nor is it ever more than just sufficient to reduce debts… so that this misery is only postponed by four weeks which have to be got through in one way or another. … not even the auction of my household goods would suffice to satisfy the creditors in the vicinity and ensure an unhampered removal to some hidey-hole. The show of respectability which has so far been kept up has been the only means of avoiding a collapse. I for my part wouldn’t care a damn about living in Whitechapel [the neighbourhood in London where most of the working class lived at the time], provided I could again at last secure an hour’s peace in which to attend to my work. But in view of my wife’s condition just now such a metamorphosis might entail dangerous consequences, and it could hardly be suitable for growing girls. … I would not with my worst enemy to have to wade through the quagmire in which I’ve been trapped for the past eight weeks, fuming the while over the innumerable vexations that are ruining my intellect and destroying my capacity for work’ (Marx to Engels, Marx–Engels 15 July 1858, 1983: 328-31).

Yet despite his extremely destitute state, Marx did not let the precariousness of his situation triumph over him and, concerning his intention to complete his work, he commented to his friend Joseph Weydemeyer: ‘I must pursue my goal at all costs and not allow bourgeois society to turn me into a money-making machine’ (Marx to Weydemeyer, 1 February 1859, Marx–Engels 1983: 374).

Meanwhile, the economic crisis waned, and soon enough the market resumed its normal functioning. In fact, in August a disheartened Marx turned to Engels: ‘over the past few weeks the world has grown damned optimistic again’ (Marx to Engels, 13 August 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 338); and Engels, reflecting on the way the overproduction of commodities had been absorbed, asserted: ‘never before has such heavy flooding drained away so rapidly’ (Engels to Marx, 7 October 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 343). The certainty that the revolution was around the corner, which inspired them throughout the autumn of 1856 and encouraged Marx to write the Grundrisse, was now giving way to the most bitter disillusionment: ‘there is no war. Everything is bourgeois’ (Marx to Engels, 11 December 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 360). And whilst Engels raged against the ‘increasing embourgeoisement of the English proletariat’, a phenomenon that, in his opinion, was to lead the most exploitative country in the world to have a ‘bourgeois proletariat alongside the bourgeoisie’ (Engels to Marx, 7 October 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 343), Marx held onto every even slightly significant event, until the end: ‘despite the optimistic turn taken by world trade […], it is some consolation at least that the revolution has begun in Russia, for I regard the convocation of ‘notables’ to Petersburg as such a beginning’. His hopes were also set on Germany: ‘in Prussia things are worse than they were in 1847’, as well as on the Czech bourgeoisie’s struggle for national independence: ‘exceptional movements are on foot amongst the Slavs, especially in Bohemia, which, though counter-revolutionary, yet provide ferment for the movement’. Finally, as if betrayed, he scathingly asserted: ‘It will do the French no harm to see that, even without them, the world moved’ (Marx to Engels, 8 October 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 345).

However, Marx had to resign himself to the evidence: the crisis had not provoked the social and political effects that he and Engels had forecast with so much certainty. Nonetheless, he was still firmly convinced that it was only a matter of time before the revolution in Europe erupted and that the issue, if any, was what world scenarios the economic change would have provoked. Thus he wrote to Engels, giving a sort of political evaluation of the most recent events and a reflection on future prospects:

We can’t deny that bourgeois society has for the second time experienced its sixteenth century, a sixteenth century which, I hope, will sound its death knell just as the first flattered it in its lifetime. The real task of bourgeois society is the creation of the world market, or at least of its general framework, and of the production based on the market. Since the world is round, it seems to me that the colonisation of California and Australia and the opening up of China and Japan would seem to have completed this process. The difficult question for us is this: on the continent the revolution is imminent and will immediately assume a socialist character. Will it not necessarily be crushed in this little corner of the earth, since the movement of bourgeois society is still in the ascendant over a far greater area?’ (Marx to Engels, 8 October 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 347).

These thoughts include two of the most significant of Marx’s predictions: a right one that led him to intuit, better than any of his contemporaries, the world scale of the development of capitalism; and a wrong one, linked to the belief in the inevitability of the proletarian revolution in Europe.

The letters to Engels contain Marx’s sharp criticism of all those who were his political adversariesin the progressive camp. Many were targeted alongside one of his favourites, Pierre Joseph Proudhon, the main figure of the dominant form of socialism in France, whom Marx regarded as the ‘false brother’ communism needed to rid itself of (Marx to Weydemeyer, 1 February 1859, Marx–Engels 1983: 374). Marx often entertained a relationship of rivalry with Lassalle, for instance, and when he received Lassalle’s latest book Heraclitus, the dark philosopher, he termed it as a ‘very silly concoction’ (Marx to Engels, 1 February 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 258). In September 1858, Giuseppe Mazzini published his new manifesto in the journal Pensiero ed Azione [Thought and Action], but Marx, who had no doubts about him, asserted: ‘still the same old jackass’ (Marx to Engels, 8 October 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 346).Instead of analysing the reasons for the defeat of 1848-49, Mazzini ‘busies himself with advertising nostrums for the cure of… the political palsy’ of the revolutionary migration (Marx 1980: 37). He railed against Julius Fröbel, a member of the Frankfurt council in 1848-9 and typical representative of the German democrats, who had fled abroad and later distanced himself from political life: ‘once they have found their bread and cheese, all these scoundrels require is some blasé pretext to bid farewell to the struggle’ (Marx to Engels, 24 November 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 356). Finally, as ironic as ever, he derided the “revolutionary activity” of Karl Blind, one of the leaders of the German émigrés in London:

He gets a couple of acquaintances in Hamburg to send letters (written by himself) to English newspapers in which mention is made of the stir created by his anonymous pamphlets. Then his friends report on German newspapers what a fuss was made by the English ones. That, you see, is what being a man of action means (Marx to Engels, 2 November 1858, Marx–Engels 1983: 351).

Marx’s political engagement was of a different nature. Whilst never desisting from fighting against bourgeois society, he also kept his awareness of his main role in this struggle, which was that of developing a critique of the capitalist mode of production through a rigorous study of political economy and ongoing analysis of economic events. For this reason during the ‘lows’ of the class struggle, he decided to use his powers in the best possible way by keeping at a distance from the useless conspiracies and personal intrigues to which political competition was reduced at the time: ‘since the Cologne trial [the one against the communists of 1853], I have withdrawn completely into my study. My time was too precious to be wasted in fruitless endeavour and petty squabbles’ (Marx to Weydemeyer, 1 February 1859, Marx–Engels 1983: 374). As a matter of fact, despite the flood of troubles, Marx continued to work, and he published his A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. Part One in 1859, for which the Grundrisse had been the initial testing ground.

Marx ended the year 1858 similarly to previous ones, as his wife Jenny recounts: ‘1858 was neither a good nor a bad year for us; it was one where days went by, one completely like the next. Eating and drinking, writing articles, reading newspapers and going for walks: this was our whole life’ (Jenny Marx 1970: 224). Day after day, month after month, year after year, Marx kept working on his oeuvre for the rest of his life. He was guided in the burdensome labour of drafting the Grundrisse and many other voluminous manuscripts in preparation for Capital by his great determination and strength of personality, and also by the unshakeable certainty that his existence belonged to socialism, the movement for the emancipation of millions of women and men.

Bibliography
Horace (1994) Odes and Epodes, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Marx, Jenny (1970) ‘Umrisse eines bewegten Lebens’ in Mohr und General. Erinnerungen an Marx und Engels, Berlin: Dietz Verlag.
Marx, Karl (1977 [1848]) ‘The Bourgeoisie and the Counter-Revolution’ in Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 8: Articles from ‘Neue Rheinische Zeitung’, London: Lawrence and Wishart.
Marx, Karl–Engels, Friedrich (1980 [1858]) ‘Mazzini’s new manifesto’ in Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 16: Letters 1858-60, London: Lawrence and Wishart.
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