Categories
Journal Articles

Marx’s Theory of the Dialectical Function of Capitalism

I.  The Importance of the Development of Capitalism in Marx’s Early Political Works
The conviction that expansion of the capitalist mode of production was a basic prerequisite for the birth of communist society runs through the whole of Marx’s oeuvre. In one of his first public lectures, which he gave at the German Workers’ Association in Brussels and incorporated into a preparatory manuscript entitled “Wages,” Marx spoke of a “‘positive aspect of capital,’ of large-scale industry, of free competition, of the world market” (1976, 436). To the workers who had come to listen to him, he said:

I do not need to explain to you in detail how without these production relations neither the means of production—the material means for the emancipation of the proletariat and the foundation of a new society—would have been created, nor would the proletariat itself have taken to the unification and development through which it is really capable of revolutionizing the old society and itself (Marx 1976, 436).

In the Manifesto of the Communist Party, he argued with Engels that revolutionary attempts by the working class during the final crisis of feudal society had been doomed to failure, “owing to the then-undeveloped state of the proletariat, as well as to the absence of the material conditions for its emancipation, conditions [. . .] that could be produced by the impending bourgeois epoch alone” (Marx and Engels 1976, 514). Nevertheless, he recognized more than one merit in that period: not only had it “put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations” (486); “for exploitation, veiled by religious and political illusions, it [had] substituted naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation” (487). Marx and Engels did not hesitate to declare that “the bourgeoisie, historically, has played a most revolutionary part” (486). By making use of geographical discoveries and the nascent world market, it had “given a cosmopolitan character to production and consumption in every country” (488).

Moreover, in the course of barely a century, “the bourgeoisie [had] created more colossal and more massive productive forces than all preceding generations together” (489). This had been possible once it had “subjected the country to the rule of the towns” and rescued “a considerable part of the population from the idiocy of rural life” so widespread in European feudal society (488).  More important still, the bourgeoisie had “forged the weapons that bring death to itself” and the human beings to use them: “the modern working class, the proletarians” (490); these were growing at the same pace at which the bourgeoisie was expanding. For Marx and Engels, “the advance of industry, whose involuntary promoter is the bourgeoisie, replaces the isolation of the labourers, due to competition, by their revolutionary combination, due to association” (496).

Marx developed similar ideas in The Class Struggles in France, arguing that only the rule of the bourgeoisie “tears up the roots of feudal society and levels the ground on which a proletarian revolution is alone possible” (Marx 1978, 56). Also in the early 1850s, when commenting on the principal political events of the time, he further theorized the idea of capitalism as a necessary prerequisite for the birth of a new type of society.  In one of the reviews, he wrote hand in hand with Engels for the Neue Rheinische Zeitung, he argued that in China “in eight years the calico bales of the English bourgeoisie [had] brought the oldest and least perturbable kingdom on earth to the eve of a social upheaval, which, in any event, is bound to have the most significant results for civilization” (Marx and Engels 1978, 267).

Three years later, in “The Future Results of British Rule in India,” he asserted: “England has to fulfil a double mission in India: one destructive, the other regenerating—the annihilation of old Asiatic society, and laying the material foundations of Western society in Asia” (Marx 1979a, 217–218). He had no illusions about the basic features of capitalism, being well aware that the bourgeoisie had never “effected a progress without dragging individuals and people through blood and dirt, through misery and degradation” (221). But he was also convinced that world trade and the development of the productive forces of human beings, through the transformation of material production into “scientific domination of natural agencies,” were creating the basis for a different society: “bourgeois industry and commerce [would] create these material conditions of a new world” (222).

Marx’s views on the British presence in India were amended a few years later, in an article for the New York Tribune on the Sepoy rebellion, when he resolutely sided with those “attempting to expel the foreign conquerors” (Marx 1986, 341). His judgment on capitalism, on the other hand, was reaffirmed, with a more political edge, in the brilliant “Speech at the Anniversary of the People’s Paper.”. Here, in recalling that historically unprecedented industrial and scientific forces had come into being with capitalism, he told the militants present at the event that “steam, electricity and the self-acting mule were revolutionists of a rather more dangerous character than even the citizens Barbès, Raspail and Blanqui” (Marx 1980, 655).

II. The Conception of Capitalism in Marx’s Economic Writings
In the Grundrisse, Marx repeated several times the idea that certain “civilizing tendencies” of society manifested themselves with capitalism (Marx 1973, 414). He mentioned the “civilizing tendency of external trade” (256), as well as the “propagandistic (civilizing) tendency” of the “production of capital,” an “exclusive” property that had never manifested itself in “earlier conditions of production” (542). He even went so far as to quote appreciatively the historian John Wade (1788–1875), who, in reflecting on the creation of free time generated by the division of labour, had suggested that “capital is only another name for civilization” (585).

At the same time, however, Marx attacked the capitalist as “usurper” of the “free time created by the workers for society” (Marx 1973, 634). In a passage very close to the positions expressed in the Manifesto of the Communist Party or, in 1853, in the columns of the New York Tribune, Marx wrote:

production founded on capital creates universal industriousness on one side [. . . and] on the other side a system of general exploitation of the natural and human qualities, a system of general utility [. . .]. Thus, capital creates the bourgeois society, and the universal appropriation of nature as well as of the social bond itself by the members of society. Hence the great civilizing influence of capital; its production of a stage of society in comparison to which all earlier ones appear as mere local developments of humanity and as nature-idolatry. For the first time, nature becomes purely an object for humankind, purely a matter of utility; ceases to be recognized as a power for itself. [. . .] In accord with this tendency, capital drives beyond national barriers and prejudices as much as beyond nature worship, as well as all traditional, confined, complacent, encrusted satisfactions of present needs, and reproductions of old ways of life. It is destructive towards all of this, and constantly revolutionizes it, tearing down all the barriers which hem in the development of the forces of production, the expansion of needs, the all-sided development of production, and the exploitation and exchange of natural and mental forces. (Marx 1973, 409–10)

At the time of the Grundrisse, therefore, the ecological question was still in the background of Marx’s preoccupations, subordinate to the question of the potential development of individuals.

One of Marx’s most analytic accounts of the positive effects of capitalist production may be found in volume one of Capital.  Although much more conscious than in the past of the destructive character of capitalism, his magnum opus repeats the six conditions generated by capital—particularly its “centralization”—which are the fundamental prerequisites that lay the potential for the birth of communist society. These conditions are: 1) cooperative labour; 2) the application of science and technology to production; 3) the appropriation of the forces of nature by production; 4) the creation of large machinery that workers can only operate in common; 5) the economizing of the means of production; and 6) the tendency to create the world market. For Marx,

hand in hand with [. . .] this expropriation of many capitalists by a few, other developments take place on an ever-increasing scale, such as the growth of the co-operative form of the labour process, the conscious technical application of science, the planned exploitation of the soil, the transformation of the means of labour into forms in which they can only be used in common, the economizing of all means of production by their use as the means of production of combined, socialized labour, the entanglement of all peoples in the net of the world market, and, with this, the growth of the international character of the capitalist regime. (Marx 1992a, 929)

Marx well knew that, with the concentration of production in the hands of fewer and fewer bosses, “the mass of misery, oppression, slavery, degradation and exploitation” (Marx 1992a, 929) was increasing for the working classes, but he was also aware that “the cooperation of wage-labourers is entirely brought about by the capital that employs them” (Marx 1992a, 453). He had come to the conclusion that the extraordinary growth of productive forces under capitalism—a phenomenon greater than in all previous modes of production—had created the conditions to overcome the social-economic relations it had itself generated, and hence to advance to a socialist society. As in his considerations on the economic profile of non-European societies, the central point of Marx’s thinking here was the progression of capitalism towards its own overthrow. In volume three of Capital, he wrote that “usury” had a “revolutionary effect” in so far as it contributed to the destruction and dissolution of “forms of ownership which provide[d] a firm basis for the articulation of [medieval] political life and whose constant reproduction [was] a necessity for that life.” The ruin of the feudal lords and petty production meant “centralizating the conditions of labour” (Marx 1993, 732).

In volume one of Capital, Marx wrote that “the capitalist mode of production is a historically necessary condition for the transformation of the labour process into a social process” (Marx 1992a, 453). As he saw it, “the socially productive power of labour develops as a free gift to capital whenever the workers are placed under certain conditions, and it is capital which places them under these conditions” (Marx 1992a, 451). Marx maintained that the most favourable circumstances for communism could develop only with the expansion of capital:

He [the capitalist] is fanatically intent on the valorization of value; consequently, he ruthlessly forces the human race to produce for production’s sake. In this way he spurs on the development of society’s productive forces, and the creation of those material conditions of production which alone can form the real basis of a higher form of society, a society in which the free and full development of every individual form the ruling principle. (Marx 1992a, 739)

Subsequent reflections on the decisive role of the capitalist mode of production in making communism a real historical possibility appear all the way through Marx’s critique of political economy. To be sure, he had clearly understood—as he wrote in the Grundrisse—that, if one of the tendencies of capital is “to create disposable time,” it subsequently “converts it into surplus value” (Marx 1973, 708). Still, with this mode of production, labour is valorized to the maximum, while “the amount of labour necessary for the production of a given object is [. . .] reduced to a minimum.” For Marx this was a fundamental point. The change it involved would “redound to the benefit of emancipated labour” and was “the condition of its emancipation” (Marx 1973, 701). Capital was thus, “despite itself, instrumental in creating the means of social disposable time, in order to replace labour time for the whole society to a diminishing minimum, and thus to free everyone’s time for their own development” (Marx 1973, 708).

Marx also noted that, to bring about a society in which the universal development of individuals was achievable, it was “necessary above all that the full development of the forces of production” should have become “the condition of production” (Marx 1973, 542). He therefore stated that the “great historical quality” of capital is:

to create this surplus labour, superfluous labour from the standpoint of mere use value, mere subsistence; and its historic destiny is fulfilled as soon as, on one side, there has been such a development of needs that surplus labour above and beyond necessity has itself become a general need arising out of individual needs themselves—and, on the other side, when the severe discipline of capital, acting on succeeding generations, has developed general industriousness as the general property of the new species—and, finally, when the development of the productive powers of labour, which capital incessantly whips onward with its unlimited mania for wealth, and of the sole conditions in which this mania can be realized, have flourished to the stage where the possession and preservation of general wealth require a lesser labour time of society as a whole, and where the labouring society relates scientifically to the process of its progressive reproduction, its reproduction in a constantly greater abundance; hence where labour in which a human being does what a thing could do has ceased. [. . .] This is why capital is productive; i.e., an essential relation for the development of the social productive forces. It ceases to exist as such only where the development of these productive forces themselves encounters its barrier in capital itself. (Marx 1973, 325)

Marx reaffirmed these convictions in the text “Results of the Immediate Process of Production.”  Having recalled the structural limits of capitalism—above all, the fact that it is a mode of “production in contradiction, and indifference, to the producer”—he focuses on its “positive side” (Marx 1992b, 1037). In comparison with the past, capitalism presents itself as “a form of production not bound to a level of needs laid down in advance, and hence it does not predetermine the course of production itself” (1037). It is precisely the growth of “the social productive forces of labour” that explains “the historic significance of capitalist production in its specific form” (1024). Marx, then, in the social-economic conditions of his time, regarded as fundamental the process of the creation of “wealth as such, i.e., the relentless productive forces of social labour, which alone can form the material base of a free human society” (990). What was “necessary” was to “abolish the contradictory form of capitalism” (1065).

The same theme recurs in volume three of Capital, when Marx underlines that the raising of “the conditions of production into general, communal, social conditions [. . .] is brought about by the development of the productive forces under capitalist production and by the manner and form in which this development is accomplished” (Marx 1993, 373).

While holding that capitalism was the best system yet to have existed, in terms of the capacity to expand the productive forces to the maximum, Marx also recognized that—despite the ruthless exploitation of human beings—it had a number of potentially progressive elements that allowed individual capacities to be fulfilled much more than in past societies. Deeply averse to the productivist maxim of capitalism, to the primacy of exchange-value and the imperative of surplus-value production, Marx considered the question of increased productivity in relation to the growth of individual capacities. Thus, he pointed out in the Grundrisse:

Not only do the objective conditions change in the act of reproduction, e.g., the village becomes a town, the wilderness a cleared field, etc., but the producers change, too, in that they bring out new qualities in themselves, develop themselves in production, transform themselves, develop new powers and ideas, new modes of intercourse, new needs and new language. (Marx 1973, 494)

This greatly more intense and complex development of the productive forces generated “the richest development of the individuals” (541) and “the universality of relations” (542). For Marx,

Capital’s ceaseless striving towards the general form of wealth drives labour beyond the limits of its natural paltriness, and thus creates the material elements for the development of the rich individuality which is as all-sided in its production as in its consumption, and whose labour also therefore appears no longer as labour, but as the full development of activity itself, in which natural necessity in its direct form has disappeared; because a historically created need has taken the place of the natural one. (325)

In short, for Marx capitalist production certainly produced “the alienation of the individual from himself and from others, but also the universality and the comprehensiveness of his relations and capacities” (162). Marx emphasized this point a number of times.

In the Economic Manuscripts of 1861–1863, he noted that “a greater diversity of production [and] an extension of the sphere of social needs and the means for their satisfaction [. . .] also impels the development of human productive capacity and thereby the activation of human dispositions in fresh directions” (Marx 1988a, 199). In Theories of Surplus Value (1861–1863), he made it clear that the unprecedented growth of the productive forces generated by capitalism not only had economic effects but “revolutionises all political and social relationships” (Marx 1991, 344). And in volume one of Capital, he wrote that “the exchange of commodities breaks through all the individual and local limitations of the direct exchange of products, [but] there also develops a whole network of social connections of natural origin [gesellschaftlicher Naturzusammenhänge], entirely beyond the control of the human agents” (Marx 1992a, 207). It is a question of production that takes place “in a form adequate to the full development of the human race” (Marx 1992a, 638).

Finally, Marx took a positive view of certain tendencies in capitalism regarding women’s emancipation and the modernization of relations within the domestic sphere. In the important political document “Instructions for the Delegates of the Provisional General Council: The Different Questions,” which he drafted for the first congress of the International Working Men’s Association in 1866, he wrote that “although under capital it was distorted into an abomination [. . .] to make children and juvenile persons of both sexes co-operate in the great work of social production [is] a progressive, sound and legitimate tendency” (Marx 1985a, 188).

Similar judgments may be found in volume one of Capital, where he wrote:

However terrible and disgusting the dissolution of the old family ties within the capitalist system may appear, large-scale industry, by assigning an important part in socially organized processes of production, outside the sphere of the domestic economy, to women, young persons and children of both sexes, does nevertheless create a new economic foundation for a higher form of the family and of relations between the sexes. (Marx 1992a, 620–621)

Marx further noted that “the capitalist mode of production completes the disintegration of the primitive familial union which bound agriculture and manufacture together when they were both at an undeveloped and childlike stage.” One result of this was an “ever-growing preponderance [of] the urban population,” “the historical motive power of society” which “capitalist production collects together in great centres” (637). Using the dialectical method, to which he made frequent recourse in Capital and in its preparatory manuscripts, Marx argued that “the elements for forming a new society” were taking shape through the “maturing [of] material conditions and the social combination of the process of production” under capitalism (635). The material premises were thus being created for “a new and higher synthesis” (637). Although the revolution would never arise purely through economic dynamics but would always require the political factor as well, the advent of communism “requires that society possess a material foundation, or a series of material conditions of existence, which in their turn are the natural and spontaneous product [naturwüchsige Produkt] of a long and tormented historical development” (173).

III. Capitalism in Marx’s Later Political Interventions
Similar theses are presented in a number of short but significant political texts, contemporaneous with or subsequent to the composition of Capital, which confirm the continuity of Marx’s thinking. In Value, Price and Profit, he urged workers to grasp that, “with all the miseries that [capitalism] imposes on them, the present system simultaneously engenders the material conditions and the social forms necessary for an economic reconstruction of society” (Marx 1985c, 149).

In the “Confidential Communication on Bakunin” (1985d) sent on behalf of the General Council of the International Working Men’s Association to the Brunswick committee of the Social-Democratic Workers’ Party of Germany (SDAP), Marx maintained that “although revolutionary initiative will probably come from France, England alone can serve as the lever for a serious economic revolution.”  He explained this as follows:

It is the only country where there are no more peasants and where landed property is concentrated in a few hands. It is the only country where the capitalist form—that is to say, combined labour on a large scale under capitalist masters—embraces virtually the whole of production. It is the only country where the great majority of the population consists of wage labourers. It is the only country where the class struggle and the organization of the working class by the trade unions have attained a certain degree of maturity and universality. It is the only country where, because of its domination on the world market, every revolution in economic matters must immediately affect the whole world. If landlordism and capitalism are classical features in England, on the other hand, the material conditions for their destruction are the most mature here. (Marx 1985d, 86)

In his “Notes on Bakunin’s Book Statehood and Anarchy,” which contain important indications of his radical differences with the Russian revolutionary concerning the prerequisites for an alternative society to capitalism, Marx reaffirmed, also with respect to the social subject that would lead the struggle for socialism that “a social revolution is bound up with definite historical conditions of economic development; these are its premises. It is only possible, therefore, where alongside capitalist production the industrial proletariat accounts for at least a significant mass of the people” (Marx 1989e, 518).

In the “Critique of the Gotha Programme” (1989f), in which he took issue with aspects of the platform for unification of the General Association of German Workers (ADAV) and the Social Democratic Workers’ Party of Germany, Marx proposed: “In proportion as labour develops socially, and becomes therefore a source of wealth and culture, poverty and destitution develop among the workers, and wealth and culture among the non-workers.” And he added: “What had to be done here [. . .] was to prove concretely how in present capitalist society the material, etc., conditions have at last been created which enable and compel the workers to lift this historical curse” (Marx 1989f, 82–83).

Finally, in the “Preamble to the Programme of the French Workers’ Party” (1989g), a short text which he wrote three years before his death, Marx emphasized that an essential condition for the workers to be able to appropriate the means of production was “the collective form, whose material and intellectual elements are shaped by the very development of capitalist society” (Marx 1989g, 340).

Thus, with a continuity stretching from his early formulations of the materialist conception of history, in the 1840s, to his final political interventions of the 1880s, Marx highlighted the fundamental relationship between the productive growth generated by the capitalist mode of production and the preconditions for the communist society for which the workers’ movement must struggle. The research he conducted in the last years of his life, however, helped him to review this conviction and to avoid falling into the economism that marked the analyses of so many of his followers.

IV. A Not Always Necessary Transition 
Marx regarded capitalism as a “necessary point of transition” (Marx 1973, 515) for the conditions to unfold that would allow the proletariat to fight with some prospect of success to establish a socialist mode of production. In another passage in the Grundrisse, he repeated that capitalism was a “point of transition” (540) towards the further progress of society, which would permit “the highest development of the forces of production” and “the richest development of individuals” (541). Marx described “the contemporary conditions of production” as “suspending themselves and [. . .] positing the historic presuppositions for a new state of society” (461).

With an emphasis that sometimes heralds the idea of a capitalist predisposition to self-destruction,  Marx declared that “as the system of bourgeois economy has developed for us only by degrees, so too its negation, which is its ultimate result” (Marx 1973, 712). He said he was convinced that “the last form of servitude” (with this “last” Marx was certainly going too far),

assumed by human activity, that of wage labour on one side, capital on the other, is thereby cast off like a skin, and this casting-off itself is the result of the mode of production corresponding to capital; the material and mental conditions of the negation of wage labour and of capital, themselves already the negation of earlier forms of unfree social production, are themselves results of its production process. The growing incompatibility between the productive development of society and its hitherto existing relations of production expresses itself in bitter contradictions, crises, spasms. The violent destruction of capital not by relations external to it, but rather as a condition of its self-preservation, is the most striking form in which advice is given it to be gone and to give room to a higher state of social production. (Marx 1973, 749–750)

Further confirmation that Marx considered capitalism a fundamental stage for the birth of a socialist economy may be found in Theories of Surplus Value. Here he expressed his agreement with the economist Richard Jones (1790–1855), for whom “capital and the capitalist mode of production” were to be “accepted” merely as “a transitional phase in the development of social production.” Through capitalism, Marx writes, “the prospect opens up of a new society, [a new] economic formation of society, to which the bourgeois mode of production is only a transition” (Marx 1991, 346).

Marx elaborated a similar idea in volume one of Capital and its preparatory manuscripts. In the famous unpublished “Appendix: Result of the Immediate Process of Production,” he wrote that capitalism came into being following a “complete economic revolution”:

On the one hand, it creates the real conditions for the domination of labour by capital, perfecting the process and providing it with the appropriate framework. On the other hand, by evolving conditions of production and communication and productive forces of labour antagonistic to the workers involved in them, this revolution creates the real premises of a new mode of production, one that abolishes the contradictory form of capitalism. It thereby creates the material basis of a newly shaped social process and hence of a new social formation. (Marx 1992b, 1065)

In one of the concluding chapters of Capital, volume one—“The Historical Tendency of Capitalist Accumulation”—he stated:

The centralization of the means of production and the socialization of labour reaches a point at which they become incompatible with the capitalist integument. This integument is burst asunder. The knell of capitalist private property sounds. The expropriators are expropriated. (Marx 1992a, 929)

Although Marx held that capitalism was an essential transition, in which the historical conditions were created for the workers’ movement to struggle for a communist transformation of society, he did not think that this idea could be applied in a rigid, dogmatic manner. On the contrary, he denied more than once—in both published and unpublished texts—that he had developed a unidirectional interpretation of history, in which human beings were everywhere destined to follow the same path and pass through the same stages.

V. The Possible Path of Russia
In the final years of his life, Marx repudiated the thesis wrongly attributed to him that the bourgeois mode of production was historically inevitable. His distance from this position was expressed when he found himself drawn into the debate on the possible development of capitalism in Russia. In an article entitled “Marx before the Tribunal of Yu Zhukovsky,” the Russian writer and sociologist Nikolai Mikhailovsky (1842–1904) accused him of considering capitalism as an unavoidable stage for the emancipation of Russia too (Mikhailovsky 1877, 321–356).  Marx replied, in a letter he drafted to the political-literary review Otechestvennye Zapiski (Fatherland Annals), that in volume one of Capital he had “claim[ed] no more than to trace the path by which, in Western Europe, the capitalist economic order emerged from the womb of the feudal economic order” (Marx 1983, 135).  Marx referred to a passage in the French edition of volume one of Capital (1872–1875), which suggested that the basis of the separation of the rural masses from their means of production had been “the expropriation of the agricultural producers,” but that “only in England” had this process “so far been accomplished in a radical manner,” and that “all the countries of Western Europe [were] following the same course” (Marx 1983, 135).  Accordingly, the object of his examination was only “the old continent,” not the whole world.

Marx referred to a passage in the French edition of Capital (Le Capital, Paris 1872–1875), where he asserted that the basis for the separation of the producers from their means of production was the “expropriation of the agricultural producers,” adding that “only in England [had this been] accomplished in a radical manner,” but that “all the other countries of Western Europe [were] following the same course” (Marx 1989h, 634).

This is the spatial horizon within which we should understand the famous statement in the preface of Capital, volume one: “The country that is more developed industrially only shows, to the less developed, the image of its own future.” Writing for a German readership, Marx observed that, “just like the rest of Continental Western Europe, we suffer not only from the development of capitalist production, but also from the incompleteness of that development.” In his view, alongside “the modern evils,” the Germans were “oppressed by a whole series of inherited evils, arising from the passive survival of archaic and outmoded modes of production, with their accompanying train of anachronistic social and political relations” (Marx 1992a, 91).  It was for the German who might “in optimistic fashion comfort himself with the thought that in Germany things are not nearly so bad,” that Marx asserted “De te fabula narratur!” (90).

Marx also displayed a flexible approach to other European countries, since he did not think of Europe as a homogeneous whole. In a speech he gave in 1867 to the German Workers’ Educational Society in London, later published in Der Vorbote (The Harbinger) in Geneva, he argued that German proletarians could successfully carry out a revolution because, “unlike the workers in other countries, they need not go through the lengthy period of bourgeois development” (Marx 1985b, 415).

Marx expressed the same convictions in 1881, when the revolutionary Vera Zasulich (1849–1919) solicited his views on the future of the rural commune (obshchina). She wanted to know whether it might develop in a socialist form, or whether it was doomed to perish because capitalism would necessarily impose itself in Russia, too. In his reply, Marx stressed that in volume one of Capital he had “expressly restricted [. . .] the historical inevitability” of the development of capitalism—which had effected “a complete separation of the producer from the means of production”—to the countries of Western Europe” (Marx 1989c, 360).

In the preliminary drafts of the letter, Marx dwells on the peculiarities deriving from the coexistence of the rural commune with more advanced economic forms. Russia, he observed, is

contemporary with a higher culture, it is linked to a world market dominated by capitalist production. By appropriating the positive results of this mode of production, it is thus in a position to develop and transform the still archaic form of its rural commune, instead of destroying it. (Marx 1989c, 362)

The peasantry could “thus incorporate the positive acquisitions devised by the capitalist system without passing through its Caudine Forks” (Marx 1989d, 368).

To those who argued that capitalism was an unavoidable stage for Russia too, on the grounds that it was impossible for history to advance in leaps, Marx asked ironically whether this meant that Russia, “like the West,” had had “to pass through a long incubation period in the engineering industry [. . .] in order to utilize machines, steam engines, railways, etc.” Similarly, had it not been possible “to introduce in the twinkling of an eye, the entire mechanism of exchange (banks, credit institutions, etc.), which it took the West centuries to devise?” (Marx 1989d, 349). It was evident that the history of Russia, or of any other country, did not inevitably have to retrace all the stages that the history of England or other European nations had experienced. Hence, the socialist transformation of the obshchina might also take place without necessarily having to pass through capitalism.

In the same period, Marx’s theoretical research on precapitalist community relations, compiled in his Ethnographic Notebooks, were leading him in the same direction as the one evident in his reply to Zasulich. Spurred on by his reading of the work of the US anthropologist Lewis Morgan (1818–1881), he wrote in propagandistic tones that “Europe and America,” the nations where capitalism was most developed, could “aspire only to break [their] chains by replacing capitalist production with cooperative production, and capitalist property with a higher form of the archaic type of property, i.e., communist property” (Marx 1989c, 362).

Marx’s model was not at all a “primitive type of cooperative or collective production” resulting from “the isolated individual,” but one deriving from “socialization of the means of production” (Marx 1989b, 351). He had not changed his (thoroughly critical) view of the rural communes in Russia, and in his analysis the development of the individual and social production preserved intact their irreplaceable centrality.
In Marx’s reflections on Russia, then, there is no dramatic break with his previous ideas.  The new elements in comparison with the past involve a maturation of his theoretical-political position, which led him to consider other possible roads to communism that he had earlier considered unrealizable.

VI. Conclusions
The idea that the development of socialism might be plausible in Russia did not have as its sole foundation Marx’s study of the economic situation there. Contact with the Russian Populists, like his contact with the Paris Communards a decade earlier, helped to make him ever more open to the possibility that history would witness not only a succession of modes of production, but also the irruption of revolutionary events and of the subjectivities that produce them. He felt called upon to pay even more heed to historical specificities, and to the uneven development of political and economic conditions among different countries and social contexts.

Beyond his unwillingness to accept that a predefined historical development might appear in the same way in different economic and political contexts, Marx’s theoretical advances were due to the evolution of his thinking on the effects of capitalism in economically backward countries. He no longer maintained, as he had in 1853 in an article on India for the New-York Tribune, that “bourgeois industry and commerce create [the] conditions of a new world” (Marx 1979b, 222). Years of detailed study and close observation of changes in international politics had helped him to develop a vision of British colonialism quite unlike the one he had expressed as a journalist in his mid-thirties.  The effects of capitalism in colonial countries now looked very different to him. Referring to the “East Indies,” in one of the drafts of his letter to Zasulich, he wrote that “everyone [. . .] realizes that the suppression of communal ownership  there was nothing but an act of English vandalism, pushing  the native people backwards not forwards” (Marx 1989d, 365).  In his view, “all they [the British] managed to do was ruin native agriculture and double the number and severity of the famines” (Marx 1989d, 368).  Capitalism did not, as its apologists boasted, bring progress and emancipation, but the pillage of natural resources, environmental devastation and new forms of servitude and human dependence.

Marx returned in 1882 to the possibility of a concomitance between capitalism and forms of community from the past. In January, in the preface to the new Russian edition of the Manifesto of the Communist Party, which he co-authored with Engels, the fate of the Russian rural commune is linked to that of proletarian struggles in Western Europe:

In Russia we find, face to face with the rapidly developing capitalist swindle and bourgeois landed property, which is just beginning to develop, more than half the land owned in common by the peasants. Now the question is: can the Russian obshchina, a form of primeval common ownership of land, even if greatly undermined, pass directly to the higher form of communist common ownership? Or must it, conversely, first pass through the same process of dissolution as constitutes the historical development of the West? The only answer possible today is this: If the Russian Revolution becomes the signal for a proletarian revolution in the West, so that the two complement each other, the present Russian common ownership of land may serve as the starting point for communist development. (Marx and Engels 1989a, 426)

In 1853, Marx had already analysed the effects produced by the economic presence of the English in China in the article “Revolution in China and in Europe” written for the New York Tribune. Marx thought it was possible that the revolution in this country could lead to “the explosion of the long-prepared general crisis, which, spreading abroad, will be closely followed by political revolutions on the Continent.”  He added that this would be a “curious spectacle, that of China sending disorder into the Western World while the Western powers, by English, French and American war-steamers, are conveying ‘order’ to Shanghai, Nanking and the mouths of the Great Canal” (Marx 1979b, 98).

Besides, Marx’s reflections on Russia were not the only reason for him to think that the destinies of different revolutionary movements, active in countries with dissimilar social-economic contexts, might become entwined with one another. Between 1869 and 1870, in various letters and a number of documents of the International Working Men’s Association—perhaps most clearly and concisely in a letter to his comrades Sigfrid Meyer (1840–1872) and August Vogt (1817–1895)—he associated the future of England (“the metropolis of capital”) with that of the more backward Ireland. The former was undoubtedly “the power that has hitherto ruled the world market,” and therefore “for the present the most important country for the workers’ revolution”; it was, “in addition, the only country where the material conditions for the revolution have developed to a certain state of maturity” (Marx and Engels 1988, 474–475).

However, “after studying the Irish question for years,” Marx had become convinced that “the decisive blow against the ruling classes in England”—and, deluding himself, “decisive for the workers’ movement all over the world”—“cannot be struck in England, but only in Ireland.” The most important objective remained “to hasten the social revolution in England,” but the “sole means of doing this” was “to make Ireland independent” (Marx and Engels 1988, 473–476).  In any event, Marx considered industrial, capitalist England to be strategically central for the struggle of the workers’ movement; the revolution in Ireland, possible only if the “forced union between the two countries” was ended, would be a “social revolution”  that would manifest itself “in outmoded forms” (Marx 1985d, 86). The subversion of bourgeois power in nations where the modern forms of production were still only developing would not be sufficient to bring about the disappearance of capitalism.

The dialectical position that Marx arrived at in his final years allowed him to discard the idea that the socialist mode of production could be constructed only through certain fixed stages.  The materialist conception of history that he developed is far from the mechanical sequence to which his thought has been reduced several times. It cannot be assimilated with the idea that human history is a progressive succession of modes of production, mere preparatory phases before the inevitable conclusion: the birth of a communist society.

Moreover, he explicitly denied the historical necessity of capitalism in every part of the world. In the famous “Preface” to the Critique of Political Economy, he tentatively listed the progression of “Asiatic, ancient, feudal and modern bourgeois modes of production,” as the end of the “prehistory of human society” (Marx 1987, 263–264) and similar phrases can be found in other writings. However, this idea represents only a small part of Marx’s larger oeuvre on the genesis and development of different forms of production. His method cannot be reduced to economic determinism.

Marx did not change his basic ideas about the profile of future communist society, as he sketched it from the Grundrisse on. Guided by hostility to the schematisms of the past, and to the new dogmatisms arising in his name, he thought it might be possible that the revolution would break out in forms and conditions that had never been considered before.

Bibliography
Ahmad, A. 1992. In Theory: Classes, Nations, Literatures. London: Verso.
al-Azm, S. J. 1980. “Orientalism and Orientalism in Reverse.” Khamsin: Journal of Revolutionary Socialists of the Middle-East, no. 8: 5–26.
Arico, J. 2014. Marx and Latin America. Leiden: Brill.
Chakrabarty, D. 2000 Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Chatterjee, P. 2004. The Politics of the Governed: Popular Politics in Most of the World. New York: Columbia University Press.
Dussel, E. 1990. El último Marx (1863–1882) y la liberación latinoamericana. México D. F.: Siglo XXI.
Guha, R. 1997. Dominance without Hegemony: History and Power in Colonial India. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Habib, I. 2006. “Marx’s Perception of India.” In Karl Marx on India, edited by I. Husain, xix–liv. New Delhi: Tulika.
Krader, L. ed. 1972. The Ethnological Notebooks of Karl Marx. Assen: Van Gorcum.
Krader, L. 1975. The Asiatic Mode of Production. Assen: Van Gorcum.
Lazarus, N. 2002. “The Fetish of ‘the West’ in Postcolonial Theory.” In Marxism, Modernity and Postcolonial Studies, edited by C. Bartolovich and N. Lazarus, 43–64. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Marx, K. 1963. Œuvres. Économie I. Paris: Gallimard.
Marx, K. 1973. Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy. London: Penguin/New Left Review.
Marx, K. 1976. “Wages.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 6, 415–437. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1978. The Class Struggles in France. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 10, 45–146., London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1979a. “The Future Results of British Rule in India.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 12, 217–223. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1979b. “Revolution in China and in Europe.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 12, 93–100. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1980. “Speech at the Anniversary of the People’s Paper.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 14, 655–656. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1983. “A Letter to the Editorial Board of Otechestvennye Zapiski.” In Late Marx and the Russian Road, edited by T. Shanin, 134–138. New York: Monthly Review Press.
Marx, K. 1985a. “Instructions for the Delegates of the Provisional General Council: The Different Questions.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 20, 185–193. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1985b. “Report of a Speech by Karl Marx at the Anniversary Celebration of the German Workers’ Educational Society in London, February 28, 1867.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 20, 415. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1985c. Value, Price and Profit. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 20, 101–149. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1985d. “Confidential Communication on Bakunin.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 21, 112–124. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1986. “Investigation of Tortures in India.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 15, 336–341. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1987. Critique of Political Economy. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 29, 257–417. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1988a. Economic Manuscript of 1861–1863. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 30, 9–411. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1988b. “Exzerpte aus John Wade: History of the Middle and Working Classes.” In Marx-Engels-Gesamtausgabe2, vol. IV/4, 288–301. Berlin: Dietz.
Marx, K. 1988c. “Exzerpte aus John Wade: History of the Middle and Working Classes (Fortsetzung).” In Marx-Engels-Gesamtausgabe2, vol. IV/4, 303. Berlin: Dietz.
Marx, K. 1989a. “Letter to Otechestvenniye Zapiski.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 196–201. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989b. “First Draft of the Letter to Vera Zasulich.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 346–359. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989c. “Second Draft of the Letter to Vera Zasulich.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 360–363. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989d. “Third Draft of the Letter to Vera Zasulich.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 364–369. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989e. “Notes on Bakunin’s Book Statehood and Anarchy.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 485–526. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989f. Critique of the Gotha Programme. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 75–99. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989g. “Preamble to the Programme of the French Workers’ Party.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 340–342. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1989h. Le Capital, Paris 1872–1875. In Marx-Engels-Gesamtausgabe2, vol. II/7, 9–702. Berlin: Dietz.
Marx, K. 1991. Theories of Surplus Value (1861–1863). In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 33, 9–504. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K. 1992a. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, vol. 1. London: Penguin Classics.
Marx, K. 1992b. “Appendix: Results of the Immediate Process of Production.” In Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, vol. 1, 943–1084. London: Penguin Classics.
Marx, K. 1993. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, vol. 3. London: Penguin Classics.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1976. Manifesto of the Communist Party. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 6, 477–519. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., Engels F. 1978. “Review, January-February 1850.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 10, 257–270. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1983. Letters 1856–59. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 40. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1987. Letters 1856–59. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 42. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1988. Letters 1868–70. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 43. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1989a. “Preface to the Second Russian Edition of the Manifesto of the Communist Party.” In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 24, 425–426. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1991. Letters 1874–79. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 45. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Marx, K., and Engels F. 1992. Letters 1880–83. In Marx and Engels Collected Works, vol. 46. London: Lawrence & Wishart.
Mikhailovsky, N. 1877. “Karl Marks pered sudom g. Yu. Zhukovskogo.” Otechestvennye Zapiski 4 (10): 321–356.
Musto, M. 2008. “History, Production and Method in the ‘1857 Introduction.’” In Karl Marx’s Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy 150 Years Later, edited by M. Musto, 3–32. London and New York: Routledge.
Musto, M. 2010. “The Formation of Marx’s Critique of Political Economy: From the Studies of 1843 to the Grundrisse.” Socialism and Democracy 24 (2, July): 66–100.
Musto, M. 2014. “Introduction.” In Workers Unite! The International 150 Years Later, edited by M. Musto, 1–68. London: Bloomsbury.
Musto, M. 2018. “Capital: The Unfinished Critique.” In Another Marx: Early Manuscripts to the International, edited by M. Musto, 137–68. London: Bloomsbury.
Musto, M., ed. 2019. Marx’s Capital after 150 Years: Critique and Alternative to Capitalism. London: Routledge.
Musto, M. 2020a. “Communism.” In The Marx Revival: Key Concepts and New Interpretations, edited by M. Musto, 24–50. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Musto, M. 2020b. The Last Years of Karl Marx: An Intellectual Biography, Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Musto, M. 2020c. “New Profiles of Marx after the Marx-Engels-Gesamtausgabe (MEGA²).” Contemporary Sociology 49 (4): 407–419.
Said, E. 1995. Orientalism. London: Penguin.
Sawer, M. 1977. Marxism and the Question of the Asiatic Mode of Production. Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.
Shanin, T. ed. 1983. Late Marx and the Russian Road. New York: Monthly Review Press.
Wade, J. 1835. History of the Middle and Working Classes. 3rd ed. London: Wilson.

Categories
Interviews

Marx’s Late Writings

[Marx’s late thought is the subject of Marcello Musto’s recently published The Last Years of Karl Marx. There, Musto masterfully weaves together rich biographical detail and a sophisticated engagement with Marx’s mature, oftentimes self-questioning writing.
Jacobin contributing editor Nicolas Allen spoke with Musto about the complexities of studying Marx’s final years of life, and about why some of Marx’s late doubts and misgivings are in fact more useful for people today than some of his more confident early assertions. Excerpts:]

Nicolas Allen: The “late Marx” that you write about, roughly covering the final three years of his life in the 1880s, is often treated as an afterthought for Marxists and Marx scholars. Apart from the fact that Marx didn’t publish any major works in his final years, why do you think the period has received considerably less attention?

Marcello Musto: All the intellectual biographies of Marx published to this day have paid very little attention to the last decade of his life, usually devoting no more than a few pages to his activity after the winding up of the International Working Men’s Association in 1872. Not by chance, these scholars nearly always use the generic title “the last decade” for these (very short) parts of their books. Two of Marx’s best-known writings—the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844 and The German Ideology (1845-46), both very far from being completed—were published in 1932 and started to circulate only in the second half of the 1940s. As World War II gave way to a sense of profound anguish resulting from the barbarities of Nazism, in a climate where philosophies like existentialism gained popularity, the theme of the condition of the individual in society acquired great prominence and created perfect conditions for a growing interest in Marx’s philosophical ideas, such as alienation and species-being. The biographies of Marx published in this period, just like most of the scholarly volumes that came out from academia, reflected this zeitgeist and gave undue weight to his youthful writings. Many of the books that claimed to introduce the readers to Marx’s thought as a whole, in the 1960s and in the 1970s, were mostly focused on the period 1843-48, when Marx, at the time of the publication of the Manifesto of the Communist Party (1848), was only thirty years old.

There is a growing body of research that suggests Marx’s final years might be a gold mine filled with new insights into his thought.

One can say that the myth of the “Young Marx”—fed also by Louis Althusser and by those who argued that Marx’s youth could not be considered part of Marxism—has been one of the main misunderstandings in the history of Marx studies. Marx did not publish any works that he would consider “major” in the first half of the 1840s. For example, one must read Marx’s addresses and resolutions for the International Working Men’s Association if one wants to understand his political thought, not the journal articles of 1844 that appeared in the German-French Yearbook. And even if one analyses his incomplete manu-scripts, the Grundrisse (1857-58) or the Theories of Surplus-Value (1862-63), these were much more significant for him than the critique of neo-Hegelianism in Germany, “abandoned to the gnawing criticism of the mice” in 1846. The trend of overemphasising his early writings has not changed much since the fall of the Berlin Wall.

One of the central chapters of The Last Years of Karl Marx deals with Marx’s relationship with Russia. As you show, Marx engaged in a very intense dialogue with different parts of the Russian left, specifically around their reception of the first volume of Capital. What were the main points of those debates?

MM : For many years, Marx had identified Russia as one of the main obstacles to working-class emanci-pation. He emphasised several times that its sluggish economic development and its despotic political regime helped to make the tsarist empire the advance post of counterrevolution. But in his final years, he began to look rather differently at Russia. He recognised some possible conditions for a major social transformation after the abolition of serfdom in 1861. Russia seemed to Marx more likely to produce a revolution than Britain, where capitalism had created the proportionately largest number of factory workers in the world, but where the labour movement, enjoying better living conditions partly based on colonial exploitation, had grown weaker and undergone the negative influence of trade union reformism.

The dialogues engaged by Marx with Russian revolutionaries were both intellectual and political. In the first half of the 1870s, he acquired familiarity with the principal critical literature on Russian society and devoted special attention to the work of the socialist philosopher Nikolai Chernyshevsky (1828-1889). He believed that a given social phenomenon that had reached a high level of development in the most advanced nations could spread very swiftly among other peoples and rise from a lower level straight to a higher one, passing over the intermediate moments. This gave Marx much food for thought in reconsidering his materialistic conception of history. For a long time, he had been aware that the schema of linear progression through the Asiatic, ancient, feudal, and modern bourgeois modes of production, which he had drawn in the preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy (1859), was completely inadequate for an understanding of the movement of history, and that it was indeed advisable to steer clear of any philosophy of history. He could no longer conceive the succession of modes of production in the course of history as a fixed sequence of predefined stages.

Marx also took the opportunity to discuss with militants of various revolutionary tendencies in Russia. He highly regarded the down-to-earth character of the political activity of Russian populism—which at the time was a left-wing, anti-capitalist movement—particularly because it did not resort to senseless ultra-revolutionary flourishes or to counterproductive generalisations. Marx assessed the relevance of the socialist organisations existing in Russia by their pragmatic character, not by declaration of loyalty to his own theories. In fact, he observed that it was often those who claimed to be “Marxists” who were the most doctrinaire. His exposure to the theories and the political activity of Russian Populists—as with the Paris Communards a decade earlier—helped him to be more flexible in analysing the irruption of revolutionary events and the subjective forces that shaped them. It brought him closer to a true internationalism on a global scale.


Marx’s correspondence with Russian socialist Vera Zasulich is the subject of a lot of interest today. There, Marx suggested that the Russian rural commune could potentially appropriate the latest advances of capitalist society—technology, particularly—without having to undergo the social upheavals that were so destructive for the Western European peasantry. Can you explain in a little more detail the thinking that informed Marx’s conclusions?

By a fortuitous coincidence, Zasulich’s letter reached Marx just as his interest in archaic forms of community, already deepened in 1879 through the study of the work of the sociologist Maksim Kovalevsky, was leading him to pay closer attention to the most recent discoveries made by anthropologists of his time. Theory and practice led him to the same place. Drawing on ideas suggested by the anthropologist Morgan, he wrote that capitalism could be replaced by a higher form of the archaic collective production.

This ambiguous statement requires at least two clarifications. First, thanks to what he had learned from Chernyshevsky, Marx argued that Russia could not slavishly repeat all the historical stages of England and other West European countries. In principle, the socialist transformation of the obshchina could happen without a necessary passage through capitalism. But this does not mean that Marx changed his critical judgement of the rural commune in Russia, or that he believed that countries where capitalism was still underdeveloped were closer to revolution than others with a more advanced productive development. He did not suddenly become convinced that the archaic rural communes were a more advanced locus of emancipation for the individual than the social relations existing under capitalism.

At the end of his life, Marx revealed an ever-greater theoretical openness, which enabled him to consider other possible roads to socialism that he had never before taken seriously.

Second, his analysis of the possible progressive transformation of the obshchina was not meant to be elevated into a more general model. It was a specific analysis of a particular collective production at a precise historical moment. In other words, Marx revealed the theoretical flexibility and lack of schematism that many Marxists after him failed to demonstrate. At the end of his life, Marx revealed an ever-greater theoretical openness, which enabled him to consider other possible roads to socialism that he had never before taken seriously or had previously regarded as unattainable.

Marx’s doubting was replaced by a conviction that capitalism was an inescapable stage for economic development in every country and historical condition. The new interest that reemerges today for the considerations that Marx never sent to Zasulich, and for other similar ideas expressed more clearly in his final years, lies in a conception of postcapitalist society that is poles apart from the equation of socialism with the productive forces—a conception involving nationalist overtones and sympathy with colonialism, which asserted itself within the Second International and social democratic parties. Marx’s ideas also differ profoundly from the supposedly “scientific method” of social analysis preponderant in the Soviet Union and its satellites.


So much of Marx’s late thought is contained in letters and notebooks. Should one accord these writings the same status as his more accomplished writings? When you argue that Marx’s writing is “essentially incomplete,” do you have something like this in mind?

Capital remained unfinished because of the grinding poverty in which Marx lived for two decades and because of his constant ill health connected to daily worries. Needless to say, the task he had set himself—to understand the capitalist mode of production in its ideal average and to describe its general tendencies of development—was extraordinarily difficult to achieve. But Capital was not the only project that remained incomplete. Marx’s merciless self-criticism increased the difficulties of more than one of his undertakings, and the large amount of time that he spent on many projects he wanted to publish was due to the extreme rigor to which he subjected all his thinking.

The large amount of time Marx spent on many projects he wanted to publish was due to the extreme rigour to which he subjected all his thinking.

When Marx was young, he was known among his university friends for his meticulousness. There are stories that depict him as somebody who refused to write a sentence if he was unable to prove it in ten different ways. This is why the most prolific young scholar in the Hegelian Left still published less than many of the others. This does not mean that his incomplete texts can be given the same weight of those that were published. Some of Marx’s published texts should not be regarded as his final word on the issues at hand. For example, the Manifesto of the Communist Party was considered by Engels and Marx as a historical document from their youth and not as the definitive text in which their main political conceptions were stated. Or it must be kept in mind that political propaganda writings and scientific writings are often not combinable.

[About the author: Marcello Musto is the author of Another Marx: Early Manuscripts to the International (2018) and The Last Years of Karl Marx: An Intellectual Biography (2020). Among his edited books is The Marx Revival: Key Concepts and New Interpretations (2020).

About the Interviewer: Nicolas Allen is a Jacobin contributing editor and the managing editor at Jacobin America Latina.]

Categories
Journalism

In Socialism’s Name

The road leading to Ayacucho, the city where started the political experience of Abimael Guzmán (the main Peruvian political prisoner who died a few days ago at the Maximum Safety Center of the Callao Naval Base), is very rough and as one travels along it one breathes an air of mystery. Located in the middle of the Peruvian Sierra, the city has long been marked by extreme poverty. It forms part of a landscape where, up until a few decades ago, agricultural production was still organized on a semi-feudal basis. It is a treasure that has never ceased to arouse the interest of anthropologists and scholars of popular traditions. And yet, it was precisely this remote place, until the mid-1970s lacking an asphalt connection with the coast and a real electrical system and television, that gave rise to the events that changed, irreversibly, the contemporary history of Peru and that returned to make this nation talked about throughout the world.

In 1962, a young twenty-eight-year-old university professor arrived in Ayacucho to teach philosophy. Introverted and shy, he came from the beautiful city of Arequipa, where he had studied at the Catholic high school, distinguishing himself for discipline and asceticism. Shortly after his arrival, Abimael Guzmán learned quechua, the most widespread language among the indigenous peoples of Latin America, and began an intense political militancy. A few years later, he would become famous throughout the world as the leader of Shining Path, the Maoist guerrilla movement that in the 1980s waged a bloody conflict with the Peruvian state, causing the death of almost 70,000 people over the course of twenty years. In the 1960s, with the outbreak of the Sino-Soviet crisis, the communist world split into two blocs. Originally a loyal Stalinist, Guzmán sided with the Chinese and became a Maoist. The following years saw a succession of splits among the Peruvian left, and in 1970 Guzmán led a splinter group away from the main Maoist party, naming it the Peruvian Communist Party ~ Shining Path. The group declared itself heir of the Chinese Cultural Revolution, which was “the main event in human history”, the one that had discovered “how to change souls”.

Despite its proclamations, the organization was born without any relation to the peasantry. At its inception, its adherents were only 51 and, for a long time, its political presence was limited to the university of Ayacucho, where the teachers and the new technical personnel of the whole interior-southern region of Peru were being trained.

During this period, Guzmán taught numerous courses on José Carlos Mariátegui, a prominent Marxist ~ considered by many to be the Latin American Gramsci ~ who, in the hands of Guzmán was transformed into a proto-Maoist thinker and the spiritual father of Shining Path, despite Mariátegui’s own distance from such dogmatism. Drawing on schematic Marxist manuals, Guzmán began to spread an extremely deterministic worldview among the Andean youth of the area. The aim was to create a monolithic group with an oppressive relationship between the political party and society that did not allow any room for autonomy in the struggles. Shining Path, in fact, systematically opposed strikes and land occupations, manifesting, on more than one occasion, intolerance towards the indigenous culture.

Nevertheless, in Latin America, it was this party, small but sustained by an iron discipline, strongly centralized (its main governing body was composed of Guzmán, his wife and his future companion), and protected by the absolute secrecy of its militants, that came closer than any other to the conquest of political power through arms, a feat achieved only by Fidel Castro in Cuba and the Sandinistas in Nicaragua.

Between 1968 and 1980, Peru, like almost all other Latin American countries, experienced military dictatorship. At the end of the 1970s, Guzmán left the university to go underground and formed the People’s Guerrilla Army, a parallel structure to Shining Path. Guzmán was convinced of the necessity of armed struggle; in his interpretation, violence was understood as a scientific category and death, consequently, into the price that humanity would have to pay for the achievement of socialism: “the triumph of the revolution will cost a million deaths.”

The conflict arose in a surreal atmosphere. May 1980 saw the first political elections in Peru since 1963. In the central square of Chuschi, a village not far from Ayacucho, militants of Shining Path burnt all the ballot papers. The episode was completely ignored by the government, just as no attention was paid to the macabre spectacle that the inhabitants of Lima were forced to witness a few months later, when they woke up to find dozens of dead dogs hanging from traffic lights and street lamps, with the inscription, incomprehensible to most, “Deng Xiaoping son of a bitch”.

Initially, the Peruvian state underestimated the strength of Shining Path. In the middle of the 1970s, seventy-four different Marxist-Leninist organizations were operating in Peru and when the government of Fernando Belaúnde decided to intervene against Shining Path they hadn’t any knowledge of the political and military strategy of the group that they were fighting. It was erroneously considered to be similar to other Latin American guerrilla groups (for example, those of Guevarist inspiration), from which, instead, Shining Path was completely distant. Notwithstanding the still insignificant number of its militants ~ in the meantime increased to 520 ~ and the rudimentary nature of its arsenal, mostly old rifles, the popular war of Shining Path advanced considerably in this period. Therefore, Belaúnde decided to use the armed forces and Ayacucho became the area of a political-military command for the entire region.

This second phase of the conflict was distinguished by the violent repression of local populations. The racism of the soldiers from the city, who identified every campesino as a potential danger and a target to be eliminated, contributed to the increase in the number of deaths. Once the political sphere had been suppressed, the civil authorities were replaced by the army, who abused and arbitrarily ran the Civil Defense Committees, halfway between military camps and torture centers. Shining Path responded to this strategy by trying to create “counter-power”: the Popular Committees. In other words, “liberated zones”, strictly governed by commissioners appointed by the party, which served as a support base for the guerrillas. Furthermore, Guzmán decided to expand the conflict on a national scale, starting from the capital Lima. As a result, by the end of the decade (also because in 1984 the guerrilla Revolutionary Movement Tupac Amaru had also emerged) half of Peruvian territory was under military control.

In this phase, the Manichaen extremism of Shining Path designated all those outside the party as enemies. All areas not controlled by the Shining Path became military targets ~ including representatives of the campesinos, trade unionists and leaders of women’s organizations. The followed a strategy of selective annihilation, with the aim of creating power vacuums and then installing Shining Path’s leaders and militants in key political roles. In fact, local authorities (including the police) and leaders of social organizations represented the second target of Shining Path, after the peasants who opposed its directives. In total over 1,500 people died, 23 per cent of those deliberately murdered by Shining Path’s militants, and not killed in large-scale attacks.

At a time when Mikhail Gorbachëv started Perestroika in the Soviet Union and Deng Xiaoping was ferrying China towards capitalism, in Peru Guzmán was an outlier, giving directions for an intensification of war. Attacked by the government in its strongholds that were located in the most rural Peru, his influence grew in Lima – a huge city that at the time had seven million inhabitants, with over 100,000 refugees from the most dramatic conflict zones. The growth of Shining Path was also possible because of the spirit of revolt that permeated the popular classes, struck by the social disasters provoked by the outbreak of a serious economic crisis (in 1989 hyperinflation reached 2.775%) and by the severity of neo-liberal policies imposed by the technocrats close to Alberto Fujimori, the dictator who came to power with the elections in 1990 and author, in 1992, of an autogolpe that led to the closure of parliament and the cancellation of all democratic freedoms.

Meanwhile, Guzmán inspired a combination of terror among many Peruvians, particularly those who had reason to fear reprisals from Shining Path. At the same time, the cult of Guzman’s personality reached psychopathic levels. With the disappearance of any reference to Mariátegui’s socialism, Guzmán was transformed into a semi-divine figure among party militants. (By 1988, members of Shining Path numbered 3,000, while the People’s Guerrilla Army counted 5,000 among its ranks.) In the propaganda materials circulated at the time, Guzmán was spoken of as the “fourth sword (after Marx, Lenin and Mao) of Marxism”, the “greatest living Marxist on earth”, and the “embodiment of the highest thought in the history of humanity”.

During most of the conflict, Guzmán never left Lima and kept away from the risks and hardships of war. He was captured, on 12 September 1992, when some agents of the National Police of Peru (responsible of several bloody massacres during the war with Shining Path) found in the garbage of an apartment located in an upper-class neighborhood in Lima some discarded tubes of cream for the treatment of psoriasis, a disease that Guzmán was known to have. Shortly after his imprisonment, Guzmán proposed the peace agreement that he had always categorically rejected before and, in exchange for prison privileges, even went so far as to praise the corrupted Fujimori’s regime. These events were followed by eight more years of low-intensity guerrilla warfare between the profoundly authoritarian and corrupt Peruvian state and a sector of Shining Path ~ Proseguir (Continue) ~ that had not accepted the turn of the so-called “President Gonzalo”. Abimael Guzmán spent the rest of his life in prison and died on 11 September 2021, just 29 years after his capture. He will be remembered for having given rise to the most abominable political experience committed in the name of socialism.

Categories
Reviews

M. J. Wert, Choice Reviews

Readers are lucky to finally have this English translation of Musto’s intellectual biography of Karl Marx’s later years. First published in Italian in 2016, this concise book offers both a biographical look into Marx’s last years and the changes that occurred in his theoretical views. Musto (sociology, York Univ., Canada) lists the many works that were published in disciplines not typically associated with Marx, for example, anthropology and ethnography, or in fields that he is often accused of misrepresenting, like the economic history of India. Readers learn much about Marx’s intellectual curiosity and interactions with activists and scholars in Russia, which occupied much of his later life study. Along the way, Musto clears up the many misunderstandings of Marx, conveying, for example, that Marx did not believe that interpretive frameworks based on Western European history should be slavishly applied to other contexts, and that he was not an economic determinist. Accusations of Orientalism also miss the mark when looking at Marx’s later writings. To read the Communist Manifesto in college and then readily dismiss Marx is a mistake, and Musto’s book explains why this is true.

Categories
Reviews

Amy E. Wendling, The Review of Politics

This short chronicle of Karl Marx’s life and work during his last three years (1881–1883) sheds light on an unexamined period. Elegantly written, the book has been meticulously researched using the resources of the still emerging Marx Engels Gesamtausgabe, unsent letters, notes, and other materials.
Musto guides the reader through Marx’s continued scholarly work during this period and also through his pains and losses, such as that of his wife and daughter, both named Jenny. Well received in Italy when it first appeared in 2016, the book has been translated into six languages, including the English edition.
Generalists who study social and political life will find the book to be of great interest. This work among others documents a moment when Marx’s reputation is in transition. As Musto writes, “of the classics of political, economic, and philosophical thought, Marx is the author whose profile has changed the most in the opening decades of the twenty-first century” (2).
Scholars now have both better texts and a more open approach to the
figure, newly emergent from the weight of the ideological commitments of editors and, indeed, nation states.
Musto’s book joins other new interpretations of Marx—most notably, those of Kevin Anderson, Michael Heinrich, William Roberts, and Kohei Saito—that look critically at the later years of Marx, albeit with different foci.
While Anderson highlights the anthropological material that Marx studied in this period, and Saito looks at his notebooks on ecology, Heinrich and Roberts study the thought of Capital, in particular.
Musto’s work about the last three years of Marx’s life shows how all of these topics are enduring themes right up until the very end. Marx remained interested in anthropology, including that of non-Western societies, and especially their property and gender relations. He continued his studies of the natural sciences and capital’s propensity to stretch the limits of the earth, and was interested, in 1880, expressly in the use of solar energy and Podolinsky’s claim that it was the form of energy most suited to the socialist political form (117).
Musto also offers a distinctive addition to the debates around Capital. One of the controversies for specialists is whether and how to treat Capital as a work. Famously, da Vinci carried around his paintings from residence to residence for years and sometimes decades, constantly making both large and small additions and modifying details. So too with Marx’s three-volume work Capital, only the first volume of which he finished, though this epithet is really appropriate only in comparison with the other two. In these debates, Musto thus lands firmly on the side of incompletion (78). But however incomplete, this work is not without contours. Musto sketches how Marx himself, dissatisfied with the French translation of Capital, rewrote the translation in 1878,
with additional material and significant modifications, especially regarding capitalist accumulation (93).
The most important contribution of Musto’s study to the ongoing reclamation of Marx as a figure is the discussion of Russia in chapter 2. A society’s conversion into a socialist political form is known in the literature as the transformation problem. Musto argues that in his later years Marx himself understood that this conversion was enormously complex. Marx paid direct attention during this period to the case of Russia, a country which, already in 1881, was experiencing significant political shifts. In the wake of these shifts, Marx corresponded
directly with the leading figures who sought to interpret them. Musto details the correspondence thoroughly.
The picture that emerges is neither that of the fatalist Marx dooming Russia to pass through capitalist development’s worst excesses before a socialist revolution could emerge, nor that of the nostalgic Marx waxing poetic about the natural socialism of the rural commune. Instead, Marx understood that political forms emerged in dialogue with an environment, and he eschewed both the grand philosophies of history and their romantic counterparts. As Musto writes, “Just as
Marx never showed a wish to envisage what socialism should be like, he did not assert in his reflections on capitalism that human society was everywhere destined to follow the same path or to pass through the same stages” (59).
Musto thus makes a strength of what is usually claimed to be a liability of Marx’s theory: that he does not sketch the communist future. Just as capitalism permeates different historical and geographical environments differently and at a different pace, albeit with some common features, Marx’s nimble historical understanding means that we are more likely to confront communist futures rather than a single monolith.
Musto also emphasizes Marx’s insistence on the progressive elements of the capitalist social form itself, especially in its unequaled productive powers (57) and in its advancement of equality in gender relations (58). Of course Marx was capitalism’s greatest critic, but he was also its poet and, in other ways, the first to describe it profoundly. Musto’s account portrays a polymath and polyglot at the end of his life, poised on the edge of a wide readership that would come only in the next century. Some of the popularizations of Marx’s philosophy that had begun
at the end of his life even irked him: he wrote, “What is certain is that I am not a Marxist” (121).
The book is full of other wonderful themes of Marx’s thought, including his continual attention to capitalist crisis (40); his discussion of how the colonial situation allowed savvy capitalists to pit foreign against native labor (89); and, of course, his enduring and unsullied commitment to a politics of antiracism (45). There is no part of the world Marx was not interested in, and during this period his studies included the United States, Ireland, India, and Egypt in addition to Russia. Musto is right, in the conclusion to the book, to highlight the continued relevance and explanatory power of Marx’s key concepts (125).
The book also has wonderful personal touches that make Marx come alive: the renewal he undertook late in life of his studies of chemistry and calculus; the piece of Leibniz’s wall he kept in his study (15); his enduring friendship with Engels; and a hilarious set of observations about the gambling he did while stranded, briefly, in Monte Carlo (113). For this reason, the book can be accessed by a general reader as well as an academic one

Categories
Reviews

Michael Schauerte, Marx and Philosophy. Review of Books

Marx’s Capital After 150 Years is collection of seventeen papers presented at an international conference of the same name hosted by York University in Toronto in 2017. A number of the presentations can be viewed on the YouTube channel Marx Collegium, along with presentations by other conference participants whose papers were not included in the book.

Immanuel Wallerstein, who is among the latter, began his talk on the contemporary relevance of Marx by noting that the presenters at the conference could be roughly divided into two groups: those who point out an overlooked idea of Marx and ‘berate others for not having noticed’ and those who point out that Marx himself had neglected something and ‘should be somewhat revised to improve that’. Such arguments, he observes, could go on ad infinitum, whereas it is a desire to know ‘what to do now about the bad state of the world’ that really draws people to Marx today.

Borrowing those two broad categories of the ‘misunderstood Marx’ and the ‘mistaken Marx’ seems a useful way to organise this review of a book that contains such wide-ranging content related to Marx by so many authors. The book itself is organised into three parts (I. ‘Capitalism, Past and Present’; II. ‘Extending the Critique of Capital’; III. ‘The Politics of Capital’), but the content of the chapters does not fit very neatly under those headings.

The highly readable and informative introduction by Marcello Musto that opens the book shows how different the real Karl Marx was from the dogmatic image presented by his ‘adversaries and self-styled disciples’ by tracing the evolution of his critique of political economy from the 1857–58 notebooks (later published as Grundrisse) to the publication of the first volume of Capital and the writing of the drafts for the other two volumes. The story of Marx’s continual struggle to refine his understanding of capitalism is skillfully interwoven with scenes of his personal battles to survive amidst constant health and financial problems.

An outstanding contribution that also examines an overlooked aspect of Marx’s thought is Bob Jessop’s chapter on how the discoveries in cell biology in the nineteenth century influenced the decision to begin Capital with the analysis of the commodity, which is described as the ‘economic cell-form’ of the capitalist mode of production. Jessop explores this analogy and its limitations, as part of a consideration of Marx’s method of analysis and presentation in Capital.

Pietro Basso, in the chapter titled ‘Had Capital been written today’, also considers the starting point of Capital, but argues that Marx made the book unnecessarily difficult by beginning with the commodity as the elementary form of capitalist wealth, which presents the reader with a challenge compared to scaling a ‘seventh-grade mountain face, with no warming-up in advance’. Basso sees the choice of such a difficult beginning as Marx’s attempt to ‘settle accounts once and for all both with previous economic theories and with the last great production of philosophy, the rational kernel of Hegel’s logic, by incorporating their highest achievements in a dialectical exposition of the material of economics’ (209). A more reader-friendly approach, Basso argues, would have been to position the historical passage on the primitive accumulation of capital as the opening chapter.

Another would-be editor of Capital, but one who demands even more of the reader than Marx himself did, is Bertell Ollman, who regrets that Marx downplayed his dialectical method and theory of alienation in order popularise his presentation in Capital. In his chapter, with the twisted tongue-in-cheek title ‘Toward a Marxist revision of Marx’s revision of Marxism in Capital’, Ollman explores the resulting gap between ‘what Marx came to believe’ about capitalism ‘and how much of it he chose – for largely tactical reasons – to present to the public’ (277).

Leo Panitch, in ‘The Challenge of Transcending Capital’, critiques Engels’ description of capitalism as a ‘mere passing stage in the economic history of mankind’ (83) and ponders ‘how Marx’s Capital needs to be transcending in order to help figure out how to eventually transcend capital itself’ (88). More specifically, Panitch suggests the need to supplement Capital with a ‘further development of [an] historical materialist theory of the capitalist state’ (89), stressing the ‘importance of a socialist strategy for entering the state to the end of transforming’ (90) it. Setting aside the feasibility of this gradualist strategy for socialism, it seems worth pointing out that Marx had in fact planned to write a separate book on the state as part of his critique of political economy, so that the absence of an elaboration of the subject in Capital was certainly not an oversight on his part.

Gary Teeple, in ‘The Neglected Chapters on Wages in Capital’, considers the centrality to Capital of the ‘dynamic and contradictory relation’ (232) between surplus-value and variable capital by examining the chapters dealing with wages and wage forms, countering the view of Capital as concerning ‘the political economy of capital alone as if separate from a consideration of labour’. From this perspective, he dismisses as ‘difficult to fathom’ the suggestion of Michael Lebowitz that there is a ‘missing book on wage-labour,’ (234) which Marx had originally planned to write. There does seem to be evidence in the pages of Capital itself, however, that the analysis of wage labour was only to the extent necessary to elucidate ‘capital in general,’ such as the passage at the beginning of the chapter on time-wages where Marx notes that he will only briefly describe the two fundamental forms of wages because an ‘exposition’ of all the different forms belongs to the special study of wage labour. In any case, Teeple calls for a reading of Capital that unravels the wage form that ‘obscures the real relations of production’ and the various forms of wages that are employed to ‘defraud the workers of the value of their labour-power’, against the backdrop of capital’s ceaseless effort to ‘maximize the surplus extracted at the expense of wages,’ which the author sees as the ‘main thread of the argument of Capital’ (241).

William Clare Roberts, in ‘Reading Capital as Political Theory’, distinguishes three ‘different registers’ of Capital as a ‘critique of political economy’: as internal critique of political economy, a historical or historicizing critique, and as a political critique. In focusing on the third type of critique, which ‘rarely gets the attention it deserves’, Roberts shows how it differs from the historicizing critique to which it is often identified or reduced, insofar as a political critique reveals how ‘political economy justifies relations of domination by making them out to be relations of freedom’ (219).

Kevin Anderson, in ‘Five Explicit and Implicit Notions of Revolution in Capital’, examines different passages in the first volume of Capital that present different conceptions of revolution, revealing both the diversity of Marx’s conceptions of revolution, which center on ‘capital and labour’ but do not adopt a ‘reductionist manner that excludes factors like race, ethnicity, colonialism, the state and the relationship of non-capitalist social structures to modern capitalist ones’ (206).

Richard Wolff, professor emeritus at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and YouTuber extraordinaire, discusses ‘Marx’s new concept of class,’ centered on the concept of ‘surplus’ (rather than surplus value) that he inherits from Paul Sweezy. Wolff argues that pre-Marxian concepts of class had centered on property or power relations instead of defining it in terms of the relationship to surplus production. Wolff says that Marx’s ‘new notion of class as a particular social process that occurs together with the physical labour process within the activity known as production’ (110) is identified ‘early in Capital, Volume 1’, but the chapter does not quote any specific passages from that work so it is difficult to know precisely what the author is referring to.

Kohei Saito and John Bellamy Foster, in separate papers, examine the largely overlooked ecological dimension of Marx’s critique of political economy. Saito, for his part, looks at differences between the ecological viewpoints of Marx and Engels, while Foster points to how Marx’s ‘ecological critique of political economy’ points the way to a ‘new conception of socialism as a society of substantive equality and ecological sustainability’ (193).

Another topic addressed in the book by multiple authors is gender. Both Silvia Federici and Himani Bannerji point to the limitations of Marx’s understanding of the sexual division of labour of his own time. As she has presented at length in her books and articles, Federici points to the ‘under-theorization’ of reproduction which was centered narrowly on waged industrial workers at the expense of considering household labour. Bannerji, similarly, takes Marx to task for a view of ‘women as essentially reproducers rather than producers’, as compared to men who ‘transform themselves and nature, develop productive forces and revolutionize society’ (154).

Étienne Balibar, in his chapter, considers the famous line in Capital about the ‘expropriation of the expropriators’, describing as one of the ‘great puzzles in the history of modern socialism’ that this ‘“revolutionary conclusion” which marks the ‘achievement’ of Marx’s argument is ‘not at the end of the book’ (41). Balibar speculates that it may have been concealed in the penultimate chapter as a way of not drawing the attention of government censors. Neatly summarizing his entire chapter, which aims to subject the famous passage in Capital to ‘an exegesis at the same time literary, philological, philosophical, political and even theological’ (39), is unfortunately beyond the allotted space of the present review.

In a chapter on ‘the persistence of Marx’s humanism,’ Mauro Buccheri adopts a similar free-ranging style as Balibar, but with rather less stylistic success, it seems to me, as a snippet of the opening 12-line sentence may demonstrate: ‘In the ubiquitous swamp of Neoliberal capitalism, a time of pestilence and plagues, of zombies, vampires and other monsters of the market, of fuzziness and uncertainty, of religious fundamentalisms and solitary atheism, of violence and repressive tolerance, of Empire and Multitude, of globalization and right-wing populism, of culture wars, and abject poverty, failed and failing states’ (247). Epic list-making seems best left to the masters of the genre such as Henry Miller and Walt Whitman.

In considering the book as a whole, my own preferences as reader and reviewer was for the chapters that set out to examine a clearly defined aspect of Capital, as Marx in that work was nothing if not scrupulous in the way that he posed his theoretical questions. Before raising the question of what Marx should have done, certainly one needs to first be sure that what he actually did is adequately understood. Yet some chapters grouped here under the ‘mistaken Marx’ category did not seem to take Marx to task without always clarifying the exact theoretical question at issue or dealing with too many different questions at the same time.

Categories
Reviews

Jenny Pitt, YFile

York professor expands global understanding of Karl Marx and Marxism with seven books in three years
Marcello Musto, professor of sociology at York University is recognized as a leading global authority on the work of the German philosopher Karl Marx and on Marxism. An accomplished scholar, Musto has devoted his academic career to reviving the understanding of Marx’s ideas and their applications to the contemporary world.
Driven and passionate about the significance of Marx’s contributions in politics, sociology, the critique of political economy, and philosophy, Musto has delivered seven books within the last three years. Each of them focuses on a different aspect of Marx’s work and highlights his relevance for finding alternative solutions to the most pressing current issues of capitalism.
Musto’s newest book is entitled Rethinking Alternatives with Marx: Economy, Ecology and Migration (Palgrave Macmillan, 2021) and presents a Marx that is in many ways different from the one popularized by the dominant currents of twentieth century socialism. This collective volume aims to generate a new critical discussion of some of the classical themes of Marx’s thought and to develop a deeper analysis of certain questions to which relatively little attention has been paid until recently. Among them there are Marx’s points of view about ecology, migration, gender, labor movement, globalization, social relations, and the contours of a possible alternative to liberalism. The chapters assembled in this book suggest that today Marx’s analyses are arguably resonating even more strongly than they did in his own time.
The anthology Karl Marx’s Writings on Alienation (Palgrave Macmillan, 2021) offers an innovative reading of the theory of alienation, which occupied a significant place in the work of Marx and has long been considered one of his main contributions to the critique of capitalist mode of production. In this volume, Musto has concentrated his selection on the most remarkable pages of Marx’s later economic works, where his thoughts on alienation were far more extensive and detailed than those of his earlier philosophical writings. Additionally, the materials contained in this new book offer valuable insights about Marx’s conception of communist society and the fundamental role of individual freedom. The anthology includes an extensive introduction written by Musto dedicated to the birth and the development of the concepts of alienation, commodity fetishism, and reification.
Musto’s most recent monograph, The Last Years of Karl Marx: An Intellectual Biography (Stanford University Press, 2020), investigates Marx’s theoretical insights from the final, mostly unexplored years of his life. In what many describe as a definitive work on the last phase of Marx’s intellectual development, there are clear indications that not only he had not ceased to write, as it has been wrongly assumed for a long time, but, on the contrary, that he extended the range of his research into new disciplines and directions. Based on unfinished manuscripts that remain unavailable in English, on excerpts from his readings, and on letters of the period 1881-1883, Musto rests the myth that Marx was a Eurocentric and an economic thinker fixated on class conflict alone. In his final years, the revolutionary who lived most of his life exiled in London dedicated his attention on anthropological discoveries, analyzed communal forms of ownership in precapitalist societies, strongly opposed to colonial oppression in India, Algeria, and Egypt, and considered the possibility of revolution in noncapitalist countries. Musto argues that all this allows an interesting reassessment of some of Marx’s key concepts. Originally published in Italian, in 2016, this book has already been translated into 14 languages.
For those interested in gaining new insight into Marx’s renaissance all around the world, The Marx Revival: Key Concepts and New Interpretations (Cambridge University Press, 2020) is a collection of 22 essays penned by highly reputed international experts of this thinker that have been compiled and edited by Musto. The book offers a comprehensive guide to the importance of the author of the Communist Manifesto in understanding the major economic and political issues of our times. The contributors argue that Marx, freed from the association with Soviet Union and updated considering the changes since the late-nineteenth century, has still a lot to teach us. Written in a clear form and accessible to a wider public, this volume brings together the liveliest and most thought-provoking contemporary interpretations of Marx and explains the reasons why his work is so relevant in today’s world.
The collective volume Marx’s Capital after 150 Years: Critique and Alternative to Capitalism (Routledge, 2019) arises from the biggest international conference held in the world to celebrate the 150th anniversary of Capital’s publication in 1867. The book is divided into three parts: I) “Capitalism, Past and Present”; II) “Extending the Critique of Capital”; III) “The Politics of Capital” and contains the contributions of globally renowned scholars who offer diverse perspectives and critical insights into the interpretation of such a seminal text and of the principal contradictions of capitalism. While pointing to alternative economic and social models, the authors of this volume reconsider the most influential debates on Capital and provide new interpretations of Marx’s magnum opus in light of themes rarely associated with it, such as gender, ecology, and non-European societies.
The edited book Karl Marx’s Life, Ideas, Influences: A Critical Examination on the Bicentenary (Palgrave MacMillan, 2019) is a collection which showcases a lot of the latest global scholarship on Marx and his legacy. It contains 16 chapters from multiple academic disciplines and is divided into two parts: I) “On the Critique of Politics”; II) “On the Critique of Political Economy”. The volume represents a source of great appeal for both expert scholars of Marx as well as students and general readers who are approaching his theories for the first time.
Finally, the monograph Another Marx: Early Manuscripts to the International (Bloomsbury Academic, 2018) reconstructs the intellectual trajectory behind Marx’s main sociological and political ideas from his youth to the militancy in the International working Men’s Association. Built on the most recent textual acquisitions of the MEGA² – the historical-critical edition of the complete works of Marx and Friedrich Engels that has resumed publication in 1998 – this book offers an innovative examination of Marx’s ideas on post-Hegelian philosophy, alienated labor, the materialist conception of history, research methods, the theory of surplus-value, working-class self-emancipation, and class political organization. From this emerges “another Marx”, a thinker very different from the one depicted by so many of his critics and ostensible disciples.
More about Marcello Musto
In addition to his focus and extensive writings on Marx and Marxism, Musto’s research explores alternative socio-economic ideas, socialist thought, the history of the labor movement, and contemporary European politics. His writings – available at www.marcellomusto.org – have been published worldwide in twenty-five languages. Musto’s forthcoming books include Travels with Marx: Destinations, Encounters, and Reflections (Europa Editions) and The Routledge Handbook of Marx’s ‘Capital’: A Global History of Translation, Dissemination and Reception (Ed. with Babak Amini, Routledge), both scheduled for 2022. Stay tuned. Follow Musto on Twitter: @MarMusto.

Categories
Reviews

Clint Jones, Socialism and Democracy

The role of Marx today is an open-ended question because many theor- ists have begun to treat capitalism as if it is dying or already dead. McKenzie Wark, for instance, posits that capitalism is indeed dead and we are faced with something worse for which traditional Marxism may not be the best approach for dealing with the future. She argues that Marx is still relevant but his role is diminished by the loss of his primary adversary in the form of traditional capitalism. Other theorists have written about the near future as if capitalism cannot, or will not, survive long enough to completely destroy the planet and postulate a Marxian revolution but one retrofitted for a future that does not require Marxism to make sense of the post-capital- ist world. These various theories and theorists have made it more important and pressing to consider the relevance of Marxism in the current socio-political climate, and Marcello Musto has put together an excellent volume for delving into Marx making it possible to see in a new light the necessity of Marxist theory to the near future – perhaps especially given the situation of capitalism today. We continue to read and extrapolate from Marx today precisely because the form of capitalism Marx wrote about continues to re-present itself, changing and adapting to historical developments.
Marcello Musto’s The Marx Revival: Key Concepts and New Interpret- ations is not a typical engagement with Marx’s ideas. This book pro- vides readers with what they need to reassess the importance of Marx to our present and near-future socio-political circumstances while still providing the necessary historical and theoretical frame- works for understanding Marx both in his own time as well as our
own. The selected articles are not arranged around a historical pro- gression of ideas. Musto has chosen to allow the authors to focus on key ideas and concepts relevant to any serious discussion of Marxism today. The topics range from the central to the newly devel- oped and the historical is “baked in” to the presentation of the material in each contributor’s analysis of the concept in question. The end result is an excellent telling of Marx’s story while clearly analyzing critical misunderstandings as well as general faults of interpretation in Marxist scholarship.
Each contributor to the volume is a leading voice in Marxist scho- larship and their individual contributions focus on their area of exper- tise. Contributors include Alex Callinicos writing on class struggle, Heather Brown on gender equality, Michael Löwy on revolution, and Robin Small on education, to name but a few among a stellar list of authors. The 22 contributions range from what are capitalism, com- munism, and the various Marxisms that exist today to questions of pol- itical organization, migration, and the role of labor as well as delving into gender relations, globalization, and technology, among other topics.
While each chapter is worthy of close analysis there are a few that stand out for their relevance to the focus of the book – key concepts and new interpretations. For instance, Marcel van der Linden, focusing on the concept of the proletariat, raises serious concerns about how Marx developed an understanding of the revolutionary class. His analysis begins with a short history of the concept of the proletariat before breaking down Marx’s own understanding of this idea as well as its place in the broader framework of communism developed by Marx. Van der Linden pays special attention to the lumpenproletariat and chattel slaves, arguing that Marx failed to fully appreciate the role and relevance of these groups to capitalism. This raises serious ques- tions about Marx’s labor theory of value and, more importantly, leads to the conclusion that Marx’s concept of the proletariat is too exclusionary to be useful either to a proper understanding of the pro- letariat’s relationship to communism or to a practical application of the idea to class struggle today. Van der Linden concludes by arguing that what Marxism needs is a completely new conceptualization of the proletariat.
While the proletariat is central to an understanding of Marx, indeed to any understanding of Marxist struggle, John Bellamy Foster’s contribution focuses on a more recent development in Marxist studies – ecosocialism. Foster provides both a historical frame- work for the concept in Marx’s own works as well as tracing the
development of modern ecosocialism through the latter half of the twentieth century. He does so without burdening the reader with mere reproductions of his own work on the subject; instead, he describes how modern ecosocialism has developed out of close re- examinations of Marx’s works as well as parallel developments in modern applications of Green Theory to Marxism. The end result is both a rich history of the ecosocialist movement and a provocative reconsideration of the importance of Marx to environmental move- ments today. This is especially important in Foster’s recognition of the revolutionary possibilities that exist in environmental movements in the Global South. Though the connections are not made explicit by the authors or by Musto, it is important to recognize that Foster’s con- tribution is made more salient for new and experienced readers of Marx because of contributions like Van der Linden’s.
Though the contributions are not arranged historically or even clustered together thematically it is impossible to read the volume without encountering the crucial interconnectivity of the chapters and their relevance to deepening a reader’s understanding of Marx, especially in a modern context. There is little overlap or redundancy throughout the volume, and it provides a clear picture of Marx’s life, thoughts, and works. Each chapter begins by laying out the historical context for the concept being addressed. This is followed by an expli- cation of the concept’s historical place in Marx’s work and in the Marxist tradition. This sets up an engagement with potential new developments of ideas or new questions that need to be addressed in a twenty-first-century context. This construction of the book ensures that both beginners and those already familiar with Marx will find it useful and full of possibilities since each chapter is an invitation to consider Marx rather than a definitive statement regard- ing Marxism.
Challenging traditional ideas and interpretations of Marx, The Marx Revival contributes to the current critical discourses surrounding the decline of capitalism by arguing that Marx continues to be relevant to such discussions. Musto offers, through multiple chapters, a re- examination of rights and liberties in a bourgeois sense as compared to the abstraction of those rights and liberties from free markets and state capitalism. The goal of such an analysis is to extrapolate the exact means of democratic control necessary to “decommodify” life under capitalism in order to produce the conditions for the actual and eventual end of capitalism. This approach stands in stark contrast to the mainstream interpretations of capitalism and Marxism that dom- inate political discourse today.
The Marx Revival is not simply celebratory of Marx, Marxism, or Marxist ideas. The volume challenges us to think carefully about how we inherit Marx and what will be necessary for a successful Marxism to go forward. This makes the revival of Marxism not just a jubilee but a revision, a re-awakening – indeed, for some, an awa- kening – to the continued revolutionary prospects of the Marxist project.

Categories
TV

Rethinking Alternatives with Marx (Talk)

Categories
Reviews

Robert Ware, Marx and Philosophy. Review of Books

There has been a gaping hole in studies of Karl Marx leaving out the last few years before his death in March 1883.

Despite the recent revival of Marx studies, this ‘forgotten chapter’ of his life has remained in the shadows, until now with Marcello Musto’s informative and well-crafted book, The Last Years of Karl Marx. (This English edition is an excellent translation, by Patrick Camiller, ‘with new sections and some changes’ (xii) from the widely translated Italian original of 2016.)

Musto’s book is an intellectual biography that fills gaps in Marx’s thinking, prompting new ideas, appreciation and understanding of Marx in his late life, while also casting light on important parts of his earlier work. Marx was not, as is often thought, a great man who withered away because of ill health and family deaths, but a genius who could not stop pursuing old ideas, sometimes in unchartered territory, in spite of those troubles. The book is about an ‘unknown Marx’ but also about an enriched and more fully understood Marx, whose lifelong intellectual work was, as Marx said, in the pursuit of ‘struggle’. (9) Musto does admit that his own work has ‘limitations’ because of the ‘complexity’ of Marx’s work in his final years.

Materials that have lately become available are used to advantage by Musto, but mostly he has used what has long been available to us all. There is no excuse for the neglect of this critical period in Marx’s research and thinking. (Musto does note, however, that ‘these new materials definitively refute the idea that he was mainly driven by a new philosophy of history, or that he had obsessive recourse to the dialectical method’ (151, n86).)

In The Last Years, we learn about Marx’s opposition to Eurocentrism, racism, rigid theorizing, economic determinism and historical schemas. Marx had a lively and intense way of thinking about the material world and diverse societies. As Musto observes, ‘[t]he critical spirit with which Marx composed his Capital reveals just how distant he was from the dogmatic author […] that many presented to the world.’ (93) What can seem a kaleidoscope of thoughts comes from a constancy of thinking about human diversity, as we can see in this investigation of Marx’s late researches into the richness of science and the development of foreign countries.

The interest of Marx’s late intellectual life is heightened by Musto’s clear and sympathetic portrayal of the troubles and turmoil of Marx’s last years, including death and illness in the family. ‘The last period of Marx’s labours was certainly difficult, and often tortuous, but it was also very important theoretically.’ (137, n73) We hear about Marx’s desk and his study filled with books, notebooks and manuscripts; about his walks and visitors; and about his demeanor and personality (cf. 11-19). These interwoven observations of a personal biography provide a backdrop to the account of Marx’s intellectual vitality and depth.

Musto sets out to show that ‘Marx thought the study of new political conflicts, new themes, and geographical areas to be fundamental for his ongoing critique of the capitalist system. It enabled him to open up to national specificities and to consider the possibility of an approach to communism different from the one he had previously developed’ (5).

For Marx, the study of society was a science, an historical science. His ‘unquenched intellectual curiosity’ led him to extensive studies of chemistry, physics, physiology and geology (23), as well as his continuing investigations of political economy. But it was his interest in the social sciences that drove him to study the ways and developments of sciences generally. The perceived success in the nineteenth century of the natural sciences spurred on his investigation of the material world of society through political economy and history, following his materialist conception of history.

As Musto observes, Marx ‘escaped the trap of economic determinism’ and ‘did not share the rigid schemas suggesting an inescapable sequence of stages in human history. Marx spurned any rigid linking of social changes to economic transformations alone.’ (32f) Ideas from British, or even European capitalism, were also not to be simply transferred to India, Russia or elsewhere.

Musto is firm, but perhaps too cautious, in remarks against the strong currents that reject Marx’s nineteenth century materialist and scientific aspirations, apparently on the basis of pre-nineteenth century conceptions. What is shown is that Marx was strongly focussed on the material conditions, especially in production, for individual freedom and collective agency that drove the struggle for change. He studied the data about the economic conditions that provide ‘[s]cientific insight into the inevitable disintegration […] of the prevailing social order’ (37), as Marx said in correspondence in 1881.

Musto has many interesting observations in ‘New Research Horizons’ (ch. 1) about Marx’s prodigious work during his last years. He was thinking about international orgnizations and about a variety of countries, including the United States, Britain, France and Germany. There are also attacks on ‘panacea-mongers’ (39) and ‘stupidities such as a minimum wage fixed by law’ (45). There was familiar rhetoric right to the end.

His well-known and little understood interest in Russia was a central topic in his last years and is rightly given an important chapter in Musto’s study. We learn a lot about Russia in the late nineteenth century and about what Russian socialists were then thinking. Some of that thinking was misled by what became canonical, and allegedly, ‘Marxist’ thinking about Marx’s materialist conception of history. Marx, according to Musto, does not depict a methodology or schema or system – these were alien to Marx.

The canonical, so-called, ‘theory’ came from over-extending the use – not by Marx nor by Engels, but by others – of the ‘guiding thread’ that Marx mentioned in reflections on his work, which had been focussed on Europe. The guiding thread was a schema of progressive epochs with their distinctive structures of the base, the relations and politics. Marx was explicit about the five stages – Asiatic, ancient, feudal, modern bourgeois capitalism and then communism – while also being clear especially about the structure of bourgeois capitalist societies.

Marx regarded himself as engaging in a scientific analysis of Europe, and especially England, up to the mid-nineteenth century. He did not always say, but he was frequently explicit, that he was writing about Europe and not producing a system that would apply to all history and all societies. Marx’s materialist conception of history was not a theory, but an approach to history through material beings in the material conditions of their society. Not even the guiding thread for the studies of Europe was a theory but simply, and importantly, a suggested direction for those investigations.

In his last years, Marx looked at the literature on Russia in terms of his scientific investigation. This was not a shift to something like anthropology or journalism or just simple reading. Throughout his life he pursued scientific studies with a materialist conception of history and whatever guiding thread might fit the new material. There were not changes in Marx’s work, except for the change of application to other societies using the same materialist conception of history and perhaps different guiding threads.

There were those who agreed generally about Marx’s account and then supposed a small change in the canonical ‘theory’ with its path of history in five stages. At least three variations can be considered. One change is that the penultimate stage of capitalism could be greatly sped up, shortened and thus less damaging, because of lessons from developed capitalism elsewhere. This was probably Lenin’s view about Russia. Russia’s early phases of capitalism, in Lenin’s view, could be sped up to late capitalism and then early socialism.

Another change that has been contemplated is that a whole stage could be passed over and thus totally avoided. This might be thought of as a Maoist position about China jumping from agricultural feudalism to early socialism, avoiding altogether the intervening stage of capitalism. Stages can be sped up or completely eliminated.

A third change that can be contemplated is a change in the path itself. It appears, following Musto, that this was something that Marx contemplated. Some societies, Marx thought, may take the different path from collectivist economies (as in Russia) to modern collectivist production on a large scale.

The question from Vera Zasulich in 1881 that prompted this thinking engaged Marx in a variety of thoughts worked on in the multiple drafts of a letter of reply, as Musto relates in detail. Marx considered the possibility of a society with people’s communes (the obshchina) moving to a society with socialist or communist structures. Such possibilities would clearly also depend on the people’s relations and ideas. The very concepts of class, association and struggle would probably have to be adjusted to the times and conditions. Russia would not advance in the image of England, in the way that Marx seemed to have thought that Germany would.

This is a richer materialist conception of history in a way that is true to nineteenth-century (as well as, modern) scientific ways, not using Hegel’s (or other philosophers’) schemas, but instead collecting data and developing ideas. There may be some inevitability, but not rigid thinking. Like a true scientist, Marx constantly had doubts, not because he wanted certainty, but because he pursued clarity and depth of understanding.

Musto’s book is a valuable resource about Marx and his thinking in the early 1880s. But we also learn, in the course of this study, more about Marx’s earlier and most read work. Moreover, as Musto concludes, ‘[t]hose who look through Marx’s writings […] today […] cannot but be fascinated by the capacity of his socio-economic analyses to explain the world. Nor can they fail to be impressed by the message that radiates incessantly from the whole of his work: organize the struggle’ (125).

Categories
Reviews

Arkayan Ganguly, Social Identities. Journal for the Study of Race, Nation and Culture

The essays collected in the book The Marx Revival: Key Concepts and New Interpretations, edited by Marcello Musto, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020, comprehensively inclusive in its compass, offer the readers an invaluable array of theoretically rich tools to dispel the miasma, invoked globally after 1989, around Marx and his ideas.

To cite two such instances, Francis Fukuyama famously proclaimed that the era of ‘Common Marketization’ of the world, be it in politics, economics or ideology, has led to the ‘End of History’, leaving Marx confined to academic interest delinked from living reality. Similarly, Richard Rorty dismissed Marx and Engels with undisguised contempt calling their thoughts a ‘lucridious flop’ much like ‘what evangelical Christians call “becoming a New Being in Christ Jesus”’. The object of this systematically sponsored onslaught is simply to brush off as dead and barren what is living and profoundly fertile in Marx. What is encouraging, as against this, riding the upturn of interest in Marx especially since the Great Financial Crisis (2007-2008), the book seeks to make sense of Marx in the light of theoretical advances made in the last few decades, in particular. It is with this object in mind that it offers clarity in 22 short chapters surrounding ideas such as proletariat, class struggle, capital and value, communism, gender equality, to name but a few, and how they can be grasped in both theory and practice.
The discussion of the book would broadly follow seriatim the order in which the contributions have been arranged. To begin at the beginning.
The book opens with the study on the broad conceptual frameworks of socio-political systems supplemented by Marx’s critical thoughts. Michael R. Krätke’s chapter Capitalism, the focal point of Marx’s life-long theoretical engagement, argues that capitalist production is not just the subversive ‘rule of capital’ by the ‘law of value’ where the majority suffers from ‘soaring inequalities’ and ‘insecurities’. Ironically, capitalist production is the mirror holding unbiased images of the motion of its peculiarly contrasting features in their historical development. On one hand, through the creation of ‘abstract and concrete labour’, of fetishism of commodities, and exploitation of the working class, capitalism advances a ‘bewitched and distorted world’, and, on the other, through its capitalist vanguards, driven by private interest in the accumulation of wealth, it upholds the ‘universal and impersonal bondage’ of capital in-itself. On what is a contrasting topic, Marcello Musto in Communism justly affirms that Marx never considered communism to be an alternate specific moment to capitalism but a socio-historical progress arising from it. Marx initially understood communism in terms of ‘Hegelian dialectics’. As he progressed into Capital, he altered his theory radically. Communism as the abolition of private property and wealth, and of ‘surplus labour time’ is replaced largely by the concepts of ‘free time’ and ‘real human wealth development’ for all. Consequently, the workers as ‘freely associated’ and part of a ‘common labour force’ would, overcoming the divisiveness imposed on them by the production relations based on wage system, assume the responsibility ‘to walk by [themselves]’. Acknowledging the specific needs of individuals, Musto’s chapter concludes with Marx’s radical determination of rights in a communist society which ‘would have to be unequal rather than equal’! Ellen Meisksins Wood in Democracy addresses how economic domination, previously exercised by political authority, underwent a radical change with capitalism’s appropriation of the new ‘science of economics’, granting all individuals equal political status independent of their economic locations. This shifts the conflict-zone from the political arena to the ‘workplace’. Marx, while emphatically appreciating these liberties and rights, addressed the ‘formal’ nature of the state to prevent any political deprivation. Consequently, capital constructed a new economic space, abstracted from the political, to carry out exploitation. In laying bare this duality, the essay reminds us of the continued economic deprivation liberal democracy under capitalism practices even today.
The next part of the book deals with Marx’s concept of agency. For Marx, agency is not only individualistic but also collectively constituted, which the following four chapters unfold. Marcel van der Linden in Proletariat exposes the ambiguity in Marx’s classification of the term. As Marx never answered the question ‘what is a class’, this left an open interpretive space only conceivable by what he kept out of it: the ‘chattel slaves’ and the ‘lumpenproletariat’. Interpolating on the basis of historical instances and logical extrapolation, Linden argues, Marx’s concept of the proletariat is not holistic. He, therefore, proposes a more inclusive one based on all forms of commodified labour producing value, embracing varied categories of working people. Alex Callinicos’s chapter Class Struggle maintains that the historical conditions of social change are not developed solely by class struggle itself. Yet when the situations emerge, these struggles play the ‘executive role[s]’. Thus, changes are ‘effected’ through them, though they are not the ‘motor[s]’ of social change as the popular reading of Communist Manifesto would seem to suggest. In his deeper understanding of the Capitalist order, Callinicos places class struggle outside its apparent manifestation, that is inside the composition of ‘relative surplus value’. To extract more ‘surplus value’ the capitalists expand the working time or hours. Such expansions of time reach a critical point, when the workers, past their endurance, organize collective resistance, leading to political upheavals demanding a shorter ‘working day’. This in turn, compels the capitalists to invest in advanced technologies aimed at extracting higher productivities which would fetch more ‘relative surplus value’ within a given ‘working day’. What results from the tussle is, first, that there arises a significant change in the ‘organic’ composition of capital.  With increased investment in technology, the wage labourers, the only source of value, are pushed out of employment in increasing numbers and their compound effects give rise to ‘fall in the rate of profit’. Secondly, with the compulsion of ‘relative surplus value’ continual investments in the means of production keep altering the productive forces resulting in contradictions with the ‘relations of production’, which is also another way of conceiving class struggle. These discrepancies disrupt social relations and build conditions for radical social changes, when other contributing factors are aligned. At the same time, this struggle is not limited only to the economic sphere but flows into the political as well, generating new categories of knowledge and consciousness. Peter Hudis in Political Organization draws on Marx’s thoughts on consciousness, which cannot be ‘brought’ to the working class from outside; it must evolve from within as a ‘self-moving object’. This unified ‘self’ aspiring to ‘historical objectives’ is what, according to Hudis, Marx meant by ‘organization’. ‘Party’ as a political entity would emerge from this ‘organization’, which as its historically evolving political organ will address similar objectives. Consequently, ‘Party’ for Marx, claims Hudis, is ‘of’ the proletariat and not ‘for’ it, much unlike the idea of the party as a niche intellectually superior group as envisaged by Ferdinand Lassalle, and later, following him, Vladimir Lenin. Nevertheless, what remains unaddressed in Hudis is, as one may argue, some urgent and relevant questions: can the identity of the members of the working class be reduced solely to their being ‘wage labourers’? Will not the diverse kinds of overlapping social identities call into doubt the viability of such a monolithic construction of class and unified ‘self’?  The insights these three chapters above offer are assimilated in Michael Löwy’s chapter Revolution. He substantiates how Marx changed his theoretical views on the subject from, initially, reposing his faith only in the ‘philosopher’s brain’ as being ‘active’ and the masses being ‘passive’ to, later, recognizing the latter as being equally active. So for Marx, the revolution was not only a seizure of state power, but also a synthesis of the material circumstances with an ongoing self-emancipation in a ‘revolutionary praxis’, which, Löwy holds, is not a single historic instance, but a permanent condition for a continued dialectical enlightenment.
Ricardo Antunes in Work construes work as ‘conscious human activity’ creating social life. Work under capitalism, however, is increasingly transformed into a mere instrument of subsistence as ‘alienated wage labour’. In production, labour’s expenditure ‘in a special form and with a definite aim’ producing ‘use values’ – concrete labour – is subdued to its general index of producing ‘exchange values’ and valorizing capital – abstract labour. Insofar as work takes the form of ‘non-reflective’ abstract alienated labour, it objectifies human relations as ‘fetishzied’ commodity relations. To return to work as ‘self-determining activity’ it is thus imperative to overcome ‘abstract’ by conscious ‘concrete labour’. Moishe Postone’s chapter Capital and Temporality dwells on this phenomenon. With the subsumption of work, every productive activity must take the ‘commodity form’, characterized by a peculiarly dual determinacy of ‘abstract’ and ‘concrete’ labour, which is a specific historical form unique to capitalism. Following Marx, Postone concludes that ‘value’, which is only produced by ‘abstract labour’, is the dominant form of wealth in capitalism. The substance of ‘value’ is a ‘self-mediating norm’ which is ‘socially necessary labour time’. With the dominant wealth form being principally labour time, there develops not only the supremacy of the ‘temporal form of wealth’ but also a ‘social domination’ governed by time. Interrogating value and its ramifications, Postone then constructs a ‘treadmill’ like ‘effect’ in capitalism: a rise in the ‘material wealth’ but no long-term increase in total value, as the temporary ‘higher levels’ of value produced per unit time, that is productivity, are continually ‘generalized’, and become the ‘base’ norm – however keeping the aggregate value always the same . In Technology and Science Amy E. Wendling looks at technology and science under capitalism, growing not independently, but along the norms of value and productivity. The contradictions in such a trajectory of development show up as the inverse relationship between ‘machinery’ and ‘labourers’ by ‘deskilling’ the labourers short of total annihilation, which at least corrodes their ‘political’ bargaining power and capabilities. The combination of technological development and ‘treadmill effect’, leading to the rise in material wealth, but no long term increase in value, causes ecological havoc. John Bellamy Foster in Ecology returns to value and not to sensuous nature being the dominant form of wealth. The value that comes from labour-power is treated as an internal cost to capital while the cost of material nature remains external to it, a ‘free gift’, thoughtlessly squandered, giving rise to a ‘metabolic rift’. After Capital III, Foster looks forward to the man in a future society, chary of despoliation, who arguably will be engaged in rational metabolic appropriation of nature.
Heather A. Brown and Kevin B. Anderson in Gender Equality and Nationalism and Ethnicity respectively decode capital’s influence on these social categories. With mechanized industry, Brown points out, physical deficit as an impediment is overcome; the labour market, now indifferent to gender frontiers, expands at a dizzying pace. This makes pre-existing family relations – between women and men – both vulnerable and prone to change, not so much for mechanization per se as for ‘similar needs and wants’. Such a shift in the gender structure of labour empowers women as possible revolutionary subjects. This expansion of capital indifferent to social frontiers and possibly equipping different social agents as revolutionary subjects explains why, as Anderson notes, Marx lent support to the national and ethnic struggles in Poland, Ireland and the Northern cause in the American Civil War for their possible revolutionary potentials.
Pietro Basso in Migration, and Sandro Mezzadra and Ranabir Samaddar in Colonialism trace the emergence of the ‘world market’ together with the gradually expanding scope of ‘primitive accumulation’. World scale conquests and the enslavement of populations led to their ‘forced migration’ into slavery, exodus, or mass unemployment of almost entire populations. The imposition of the rule of capital by extra-economic violence and ‘brute force’ created a new ‘geographical expanse’ and the ‘reserve army of workers’, which are the two fundamental pre-requisites of capital taking the final form, world market.
Capital expanding geographically and class being ‘riven’ with ‘gender’, ‘race’ and ‘national identities’, our engagement with Marx under rapid historical changes lays on us the duty of ‘reformulating’ the ‘Internationalist’ nature of the proletariat by discovering diverse revolutionary subjects. Thus, it is only fit to ask, should we not include along with the proletariat those individuals and social groups from various sections of society and colonial subjects as new potential forms of the revolutionary bloc?
All such elements are systematically articulated within the parameters of a capitalist state, whose nature Bob Jessop’s chapter State analyzes. In applying the theoretical insights derived from Marx, he identifies three accounts of the state – viz. as the ‘instrument of class rule’, as the ‘autonomous authority’ competently tackling class conflicts, and as the ‘alienated form’ of political organization based on the ‘specific separation-in-unity’ of the economic and political relations. Expanding the notion of ‘separation-in-unity’, he then decrypts the ‘formal adequacy’ – political equalities contra economic inequalities – of the state. The capitalist state formation, for him, is located along the line of separation between the ‘civil sphere’ dominated by bourgeois ‘self-interest’ and its ‘illusory reflection’ as ‘common interest’ in the ‘public sphere’. This is where the politics of power masquerades as undifferentiated public interest. This formation explains how and why the social relations of servitude may well continue without the dominant class commanding political supremacy, thereby removing ‘class’ itself from being an ‘immediate’ organizing force. The upshot of this is, the modalities of class conflicts remain not only economic but also become politically specific, to overcome the juxtaposition held within the political integration of the state. This conception of the state is crucial for the ‘world market’ that Seongjin Jeong and Benno Teschke elaborate in chapters Globalization and War and International Relations respectively. Drawing upon Marx’s insights pertinent to a globalized world, Jeong offers his views on how value finally peaks in terms of the vertical integration of inter-state matrix. In conformity to capitalism’s claims, the chapter looks into the consequences of the international norm of ‘socially necessary labour time’ that allow the expropriation of  ‘surplus labour time’ by the high-productivity countries from those characterized by low-productivity, which, as he persuasively argues, is ‘zero-sum’ and not the Ricardian positive-sum game. Teschke improves upon Jeong’s model. He points to ‘war’, a ‘horizontal geopolitical conflict’, as another vector of the modern inter-state matrix. Studying the historical developments and the emerging tendencies of ‘world market’, he asserts that the theory of ‘historical materialism’ needs revision in these two axes of horizontal and vertical paths to grasp properly what uneven progress in production, mediated temporally, would really amount to. In this connection, he claims for his hypothesis with regard to states and their agencies a high degree of applicability.
Gilbert Achcar in Religion captures Marx’s ‘materialist’ conception that is not delinked from his ‘political attitude’ towards it. The former co-relates ‘credit’ and ‘faith’, and ‘alienation of labour’ and ‘religious alienation’ converging into ‘mystification’ of human relations, which so long as religion in itself is determined by the ‘historical changes in production’ will remain similar to the process whereby capital fetishizes human relations. As a timely warning though, Achcar maintains that any ‘defence of freedom’ can come to naught if the ‘freedom of religion’ is attacked when religion becomes a ‘component of the fight for political freedom in general’. This aporia Marx believed can be resolved only with education and ‘emancipatory fight’ by the workers’ party.
Robin Small and Isabelle Garo in their chapters Education and Art respectively, uphold ‘real human development’. Small’s chapter builds on Marx’s substantive commitment to education as a means to build ‘personality and human development’ to overstep the incompleteness which division of labour and ‘vocational specialization’ conspire to impose. In a similar vein, Garo argues, though art is socio-historically determined, it cannot be wholly ‘alienated’ from the artist. This allows art to escape the entire loci of ‘abstract labour’ and ‘law of value’, thus opening a possibility of ‘dialectical human sense development’ between artist and aesthete.
Finally, Immanuel Wallerstein chronicles some really shaping historic experiences influenced by the Moor; and here naturally he alludes to the paradigmatic shifts – from the days of the ‘German Social-Democratic Party’, through the ‘Russian Revolution’, the ‘Cold War’, the ‘World Revolution’ of 1968, the collapse of existing socialism, the rise of the Chinese Communist Party, right up to the Great Financial Crisis (2007-2008). Subsequently, without being named, Marxism did by no means part company with the new generations affianced to many forms of ‘global justice movement’ embodied in ‘World Social Forum’, ‘left-of-centre’ political parties, and the criticisms of mainstream policies since 2008-2009. With this hope, he expects Marxism of tomorrow to engage with Marx ‘carefully’ and ‘critically’. However, conspicuously missing in his chapter is the deserved focus on how Marx, subsequent to the discovery of Economic-Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844, and Grundrisse, sent shockwaves in the 1930s and 1960s, respectively, compelling powerful debates both within and outside of academia.
Overall, the book appreciably enriches our understanding of Marx’s conceptual paradigm, making it a valuable core text for academicians, enthusiasts, activists, and even the Sociology Departments of Universities. We, however, conclude with two critical remarks: To start with, the Marxian categories extensively analyzed here have been restricted primarily to a socio-political reading; thus their immense economic and philosophical significance has been either undervalued or ignored. If the financial crisis of 2008 is one of the reasons for Marx’s revival – even Francis Fukuyama admitting that ‘certain things Karl Marx said are turning out to be true’ (2018) – then we may well ask whether the meaning of financial capital, including market derivatives, can be grasped through his theory of value and the falling rate of profit? This having been said, we may then ask if, in view of the unreflective exploitation of natural resources, would it not make sense only if we widened the framework of the falling rate of profit? If such is the case, then to put a compelling limit on the heedless exploitation of nature’s warehouse, what is urgently called for is a reconstruction of our economic ontology that can effectively tackle the ever-growing clash between advanced economies and their rising rivals. Next, taking off from the second comment, to conceptualize such a reconstruction through Marx’s thoughts, does it remain restricted only to the far-reaching reconstruction of economic systems? Despite recurrent economic melt-downs since 1989, the fetishism of “productivity” continues to hold sway over the historical processes globally. This “productivity” is sustained by the two “living negation[s]” of capitalism – exploitation of youthful human labour and the previously mentioned inward invasion of nature. The question then remains; do these concerns also not extend to the much larger issue of the reconstitution of class consciousness in and for itself? At this point way of concluding query, by, a further thought suggests itself. Will Marx-Engels Gesamtausgabe (MEGA2) – the Nachlass of 15,000 pages of notes – not prove to be a watershed in interpreting the Key Concepts? With another world stagnation looming large, we must muster courage for – no, not a short-lived but – a sustained Revival!

Categories
Journalism

Strength to Struggle

The bourgeois of France had always come away with everything. Since the revolution of 1789, they had been the only ones to grow rich in periods of prosperity, while the working class had regularly borne the brunt of crises. But the defeat of Napoleon III during the Franco-Prussian War offered an opportunity for a change of course. The prospect of a conservative government that would leave social injustices intact, heaping the burden of the war on the least well-off, triggered a new revolution on 18 March. Adolphe Thiers and his army had little choice but to decamp to Versailles.

To secure democratic legitimacy, the insurgents decided to hold free elections at once. On 26 March, an overwhelming majority of Parisians (190,000 votes against 40,000) approved the motivation for the revolt, and 70 of the 85 elected representatives declared their support for the revolution. On 28 March a large number of citizens gathered in the vicinity of the Hôtel de Ville for festivities celebrating the new assembly, which now officially took the name of the Paris Commune. Although it would survive for no more than 72 days, it was the most important political event in the history of the nineteenth-century workers’ movement, rekindling hope among a population exhausted by months of hardship. Committees and groups sprang up in the popular quarters to lend support to the Commune, and every corner of the metropolis hosted initiatives to express solidarity and to plan the construction of a new world. One of the most widespread sentiments was a desire to share with others. It was not the impetus of a leader or a handful of charismatic figures that gave life to the Commune; its hallmark was its clearly collective dimension. Women and men came together voluntarily to pursue a common project of liberation. Self-government was not seen as a utopia. Self-emancipation was thought of as the essential task.

Two of the first emergency decrees to stem the rampant poverty were a freeze on rent payments and on the selling of items valued below 20 francs in pawn shops. Nine collegial commissions were also supposed to replace the ministries for war, finance, general security, education, subsistence, labour and trade, foreign relations and public service.

On 19 April, three days after further elections to fill 31 seats that became almost immediately vacant, the Commune adopted a Declaration to the French People that contained an “absolute guarantee of individual liberty, freedom of conscience and freedom of labour” as well as “the permanent intervention of citizens in communal affairs”. The conflict between Paris and Versailles, it affirmed, “cannot be ended through illusory compromises”; the people had a right and “obligation to fight and to win!” Even more significant than this text were the concrete actions through which the Communards fought for a total transformation of political power. A set of reforms addressed not only the modalities but the very nature of political administration. The Commune provided for the recall of elected representatives and for control over their actions by means of binding mandates (though this was by no means enough to settle the complex issue of political representation). Magistracies and other public offices were also subject to permanent control and possible recall. The clear aim was to prevent the public sphere from becoming the domain of professional politicians. Policy decisions were not left up to small groups of functionaries, but had to be taken by the people. Armies and police forces would no longer be institutions set apart from the body of society. The separation between state and church was also a sine qua non.

But the vision of political change was not confined to such measures: it went more deeply to the roots. The transfer of power into the hands of the people was needed to drastically reduce bureaucracy. The social sphere should take precedence over the political – as Henri de Saint-Simon had already maintained – so that politics would no longer be a specialized function but become progressively integrated into the activity of civil society. The social body would thus take back functions that had been transferred to the state. To overthrow the existing system of class rule was not sufficient; there had to be an end to class rule as such. All this would have fulfilled the Commune’s vision of the republic as a union of free, truly democratic associations promoting the emancipation of all its components. It would have added up to self-government of the producers.

The Commune held that social reforms were even more crucial than political change. They were the reason for its existence, the barometer of its loyalty to its founding principles, and the key element differentiating it from the previous revolutions.  The Commune passed more than one measure with clear class connotations. Deadlines for debt repayments were postponed by three years. Evictions for non-payment of rent were suspended, and a decree allowed vacant accommodation to be requisitioned for people without a roof over their heads. There were plans to shorten the working day, the widespread practice of imposing specious fines on workers simply as a wage-cutting measure was outlawed on pain of sanctions, and minimum wages were set at a respectable level. As much as possible was done to increase food supplies and to lower prices. Social assistance of various kinds was extended to weaker sections of the population – for example, food banks for abandoned women and children – and discussions were held on how to end the discrimination between legitimate and illegitimate children.

All the Communards sincerely believed that education was an essential factor for individual emancipation and any serious social and political change. School attendance was to become free and compulsory for girls and boys alike, with religiously inspired instruction giving way to secular teaching along rational, scientific lines.  Specially appointed commissions and the pages of the press featured many compelling arguments for investment in female education. To become a genuine “public service”, education had to offer equal opportunities to “children of both sexes”. Moreover, “distinctions on grounds of race, nationality, religion or social position” should be prohibited. Early practical initiatives accompanied such advances in theory, and in more than one arrondissement thousands of working-class children entered school buildings for the first time and received classroom material free of charge.

The Commune also adopted measures of a socialist character. It decreed that workshops abandoned by employers who had fled the city, with guarantees of compensation on their return, should be handed over to cooperative associations of workers. Theatres and museums – open for all without charge – were collectivized.

The Commune was much more than the actions approved by its legislative assembly. It even aspired to redraw urban space, as demonstrated by the decision to demolish the Vendôme Column, considered a monument to barbarism and a reprehensible symbol of war, and to secularize certain places of worship by handing them over for use by the community. There was no place for national discrimination and foreigners enjoyed the same social rights as French people.

Women played an essential role in the critique of the social order. In many cases, they transgressed the norms of bourgeois society and asserted a new identity in opposition to the values of the patriarchal family, moving beyond domestic privacy to engage with the public sphere. The “Women’s Union” was centrally involved in identifying strategic social battles. Women achieved the closure of licensed brothels, won parity for female and male teachers, coined the slogan “equal pay for equal work”, demanded equal rights within marriage and the recognition of free unions, and promoted exclusively female chambers in labour unions. When the military situation worsened in mid-May, with the Versaillais at the gates of Paris, women took up arms and formed a battalion of their own. Many would breathe their last on the barricades.

The Paris Commune was brutally crushed by the armies of Versailles. During the semaine sanglante, the week of blood-letting between 21 and 28 May, a total of 17,000 to 25,000 citizens were slaughtered. A young Arthur Rimbaud described the French capital as “a mournful, almost dead city”. It was the bloodiest massacre in the history of France. The number of prisoners taken was 43,522. One hundred of these received death sentences, following summary trials before courts martial, and another 13,500 were sent to prison or forced labour, or deported to remote areas such as New Caledonia. Passing over the unprecedented violence of the Thiers state, the conservative and liberal press expressed great relief at the restoration of the “natural order”.

And yet, the insurrection in Paris gave strength to workers’ struggles and pushed them in more radical directions. Paris had shown that the aim had to be one of building a society radically different from capitalism. The Commune embodied the idea of social-political change and its practical application. It became synonymous with the very concept of revolution, with an ontological experience of the working class. The Paris Commune changed the consciousness of workers and their collective perception. At a distance of 150 years, its red flag continues to flutter and to remind us that an alternative is always possible.

Categories
Reviews

Joel Wainwright, Rethinking Marxism. A journal of economics, culture and society

The sesquicentennial of the publication of Marx’s first volume of Capital generat- ed renewed interest in his masterwork and resulted in the publication of numer- ous reassessments.

Musto’s (2019) edited volume offers a major contribution to this literature. It was born out of a conference with the same title, organized by Musto and hosted at York University in Toronto in May 2017. Drawing thirty speakers from ten countries, the present collection includes essays from roughly half of the conference presenters. The contributors are Kevin Anderson, Étienne Balibar, Himani Bannerji, Pietro Basso, Mauro Buccheri, Silvia Federici, John Bellamy Foster, Alfonso Iacono, Bob Jessop, Marcello Musto, Bertell Ollman, Leo Panitch, Moishe Postone, William Clare Roberts, Kohei Saito, Gary Teeple, and Richard Wolff. Musto deserves our thanks for encouraging these dis- tinguished scholars to contribute chapters and for curating the collection.

As with most edited volumes, the contributions are uneven in quality and top- icality. But most chapters are genuinely excellent, contributing a thematic reading of Capital, typically in the area of the author’s expertise. So, for instance, the chapter by Silvia Federici discusses wage labor and social reproduction in Capital; John Bellamy Foster summarizes Capital’s ecological critique; Moishe Postone draws on value theory to expose the roots of our current crisis; Richard Wolff offers an exposition on the theory of class in Capital; and so on. Herein lies the volume’s chief strength: it provides concise and relatively accessible intro- ductions to many of Capital’s key themes, written by Marxist scholars who have published specialized volumes on these matters.

Paradoxically, this is also the collection’s major limitation. Seven of the chap- ters are largely unoriginal, by my count, insofar as earlier (and more substantial) treatments of the same arguments have been published by the same authors. There is certainly virtue in publishing these chapters in a volume of this sort; they provide readers with a useful compendium of statements on Capital by im- portant scholars. But for those readers who are already familiar with these writers and their interpretations of Capital, these chapters offer little that is new. Rather than dwelling on these, I will offer brief remarks on two of the book’s most novel and interesting chapters.

Chapter 3, the book’s longest, presents Bob Jessop’s study of Marx’s use of the metaphor of the cell in Capital. A masterful exegesis, Jessop shows how analysis of capitalist social formations was deeply marked by Marx’s study of breakthroughs in cell biology during the 1850s. Jessop asks, why did Marx begin Capital with the commodity? This marks a clear shift from his early notebooks—including those that comprise the Grundrisse of 1857—which began the analysis of capital via money. To answer this question, Jessop examines Marx’s preparatory texts and statements on method (those written before and after Capital) to discern the timing and cause of the shift. Jessop shows that Marx’s study of cell theory between 1857 and 1867 led him to generate—consciously or not—a parallel theory concerning capitalism. To summarize briefly (see Jessop 2019, 66–71): just as all bodies are comprised of cells, the social body of capitalist society is consti- tuted from complex arrangements of the value form, of which the elementary form is the commodity. These commodities are both independent entities and also shaped by the whole of capitalist society, which presents itself as an “immense collection of commodities” (Marx [1867] 1976, 125). Just as cells arise from other cells, commodities are produced from other commodities. Cells persist through a lifetime of metabolic exchanges, which can be modified through cellular differentiation and can form organs and organisms; similarly, as the “cell form” (Zellenform) of capitalist society, commodities result from pro- duction and also modify the circumstances of future production. Under capital- ism, the whole social metabolism that defines human existence on Earth comes to be reorganized by the production and circulation of value through the use of the labor-power commodity. I could go on, but Jessop’s philological treatment of cell theory in Capital is both rigorous and critical, emphasizing the need to avoid naturalizing capital. As Jessop (2019, 74–5) notes: “Whereas cells are the uni- versal basis of organic life and operate through known universal chemical, phys- iological, and metabolic processes, the value form of the commodity as the economic cell-form of the capital relation is historically specific and its laws and tendencies are doubly tendential, in the sense that, they exist only to the extent that the contradiction-rife and crisis-prone capital relation is reproduced in and through social practices that are historically contingent and contested.” Marx’s use of cell theory to explain capitalism was methodological and metaphor- ical, not ontological.

In chapter 9, Kohei Saito reexamines the intellectual relationship between Marx and Engels from an ecological perspective. Since Marx never published any books or pamphlets on nature, after his death Marxists turned to Engels’s writings—particularly his Anti-Dühring (Engels [1878] 1987) and his later manu- scripts in Dialectics of Nature (Engels [1873–1882] 1987)—to interpret ecology. This led to a narrow interpretation of Western Marxism that now “cannot develop a Marxist critique of ecology unless it admits its own earlier one-sided interpreta- tion” (Saito 2019, 167). By focusing on Marx’s later scientific notebooks, Saito cla- rifies Marx’s and Engels’s significant differences regarding their interests in science and views of ecology. Saito provides a powerful interpretation of a change Engels made to a sentence about metabolism written by Marx for the third volume of Capital. This edit consequently emphasizes Engels’s conception of metabolic rift (i.e., “the violation of natural laws of life would lead to a fatal con- sequence for human civilization”) at the expense of “Marx’s metabolic theory, which investigates how the law of value dominant in the social metabolism mod- ifies natural metabolism” (173). Saito implies that this editorial shift was partly mo- tivated by Engels’s rejection of Liebig’s conception of metabolism, Marx’s key source for this concept. More fundamentally, Engels’s ontology emphasizes the in- dependence of nature. Thus, he “was not able to fully recognize that Marx’s the- oretical leap” concerned “the interdependent process between social and natural metabolism,” which explains “how the metabolism between humans and nature is modified and reorganized through the formal and real subsumption of labour under capital” (174). By implication, Marx’s conception of the natural history of the economic forms of society—his stated method in Capital’s preface—was not the same as Engels’s.

Notably, both of these chapters address ecological themes. After decades in which no books about capital and nature won the Deutscher Memorial Prize, three recent winners examine this relation: Andreas Malm’s (2016) Fossil Capital, Kohei Saito’s (2017) Karl Marx’s Ecosocialism, and John Bellamy Foster’s (2020) The Return of Nature. I do not think this reflects a fad. It rather indicates a renais- sance of original research built upon the foundation of Capital. Indeed, I believe that we will one day find in retrospect that much of the most original work in the Marxist tradition today responds to the planetary ecological crisis. Novel thought requires provocation.

Our planetary crisis, generated through the development of capitalist social re- lations, promises ever-greater disruptions and changes in the human relationship with the Earth. I am reminded of the passage from the conclusion of Marx’s ([1867] 1976, 637–8) chapter on machinery, where he notes that the urbanization of hu- manity both concentrates our social capacities yet also “disturbs the metabolic in- teraction between man and the earth … but by destroying the circumstances surrounding that metabolism, which originated in a merely natural and spontane- ous fashion, [capitalist society] compels its systematic restoration as a regulative law of social production, and in a form adequate to the full development of the human race.” To avoid the total destruction of this metabolism, to refashion social existence in a form adequate to social dignity, the analysis provided by Capital remains critical. We are therefore indebted to Musto and this collection of writers for opening new paths through Marx’s text.

 

References

Engels, F. (1878) 1987. Anti-Dühring. In vol. 25 of Collected Works, by K. Marx and F. Engels. New York: International Publishers.

Engels, F. (1873–1882) 1987. Dialectics of Nature. In vol. 25 of Collected Works, by K. Marx and Engels. New York: International Publishers.

Foster, J. B. 2020. The Return of Nature: Socialism and Ecology. New York: Monthly Review.

Jessop, B. 2019. “‘Every Beginning Is Difficult, Holds in All Sciences’: Marx on the Economic Cell Form of Capital and the Analysis of Capitalist Social Formations.” In Marx’s “Capital” After 150 Years: Critique and Alternative to Capitalism, ed. M. Musto, 54–82. New York: Routledge.

Malm, A. 2016. Fossil Capital: The Rise of Steam Power and the Roots of Global Warming. New York: Verso.

Marx, K. (1867) 1976. Capital. Vol. 1. New York: Penguin.

Musto, M. 2019. Marx’s “Capital” After 150 Years: Critique and Alternative to Capitalism.

New York: Routledge.

Saito, K. 2017. Karl Marx’s Ecosocialism: Capital, Nature, and the Unfinished Critique of Political Economy. New York: Monthly Review.

Saito, K. 2019. “Marx and Engels: The Intellectual Relationship Revisited from an Ecological Perspective.” In Marx’s “Capital” After 150 Years: Critique and Alternative to Capitalism, ed. M. Musto, 167–83. New York: Routledge.