From: "David C. Schweickart" <dschwei at ORION.IT.LUC.EDU> Subject: Beyond Capitalism
CHAPTER ONE
COUNTERPROJECT, SUCCESSOR-SYSTEM, REVOLUTION
"A spectre is haunting Europe--the spectre of Communism."
So wrote Marx and Engels in 1848. They were right. Europe, indeed the world, was haunted by "Communism" for nearly a century and a half. Now, at least for the time being, that ghost has been exorcised. In its place has appeared the conquering spirit- -globalized capitalism. This ghost appears in various guises.
We see it as "consumer society"--vaguely disquieting, but infinitely alluring. We construct temples to this spirit, first in capitalism's heartland, then with missionary zeal all over the world--shopping malls that dwarf in size and magnificence the greatest cathedrals, mosques and holy shrines of earlier epochs, where we worship in greater numbers and more often than all but the most dedicatedly religious ever worshiped in their holy places. Not everyone has access to these temples, but few remain who do not know of their existence and have not felt the pull of their attraction. More astonishing than grace, invisible waves bring the sounds and images of commodity-happiness to the color TVs that now dot all but the remotest villages. Who can resist the appeal? In poor countries armed guards screen those pushing to enter the local McDonalds and Pizza Huts.
The spectre of global capitalism appears in another guise, this time more distant, more shrouded in mystery, less benevolent, but even more powerful. Global financial markets pass judgments, create fortunes, destroy fortunes, make or break countries. A hierarchy of priests--financial advisors, brokers, bankers, traders, journalists, economists--serve the gods of currency, commodities, stocks and bonds. Although these clergy grasp the mysteries of finance better than the laity, they remain servants of their willful deities. It is the markets themselves that decide what is good and what is evil, rewarding certain ventures, punishing others, in a manner not wholly arbitrary, but not wholly predictable either. (Even Nobel-laureate priests sometimes make mistakes. Like the gods before them, the market gods sometimes humble the presumptuous.)
Capitalism appears to us not only as an alluring consumer society and as mysterious financial markets. Its cruelest face is that of savage inequality. We have all heard the statistics, although they are too numbing to remember for long. The top two hundred twenty-five individuals possess wealth equal to the combined incomes of bottom forty-seven percent of the world's population. (Roughly, the average wealth of each one of these individuals is equal to the combined incomes of ten millionpeople earning the average income of the bottom half of humanity.) Nations are also divided as to rich and poor, those at the bottom having per capita incomes one-twentieth or even one-fiftieth of those of the rich. Life expectancy in rich countries now approaches eighty; in poor countries it is often under fifty-five. Infant mortality, malnutrition and literacy rates are comparably disparate. Even within rich countries, the inequalities are staggering. In the United States the upper one percent of the population own more wealth than the bottom ninety percent. Eight million families have annual incomes of less than $7500, whereas investment bankers and top corporate executives often make ten million per year and the one hundred fifty or so billionaires in the country make even more.
It was once believed by many good-hearted people that globalized capitalism would over time even out these inequalities, bring up the bottom faster than the top, reduce the income disparities among nations. No one but capitalism's most obtuse apologists believes that any more. (MIT economist Lester Thurow thinks it cute to say, "If God gave Africa to you and made you its economic dictator, the only smart move would be to give it back to him.") Now we simply build more prisons and more gated communities. If we happen to be in the upper middle ranks of a rich country, we give thanks for our good fortune, and maybe buy a newspaper from a homeless person or write a small check to a favorite charity. If we are rich in a poor country, we might have to write a larger check to a favorite death squad, if the peasants or workers get unruly.
Of course the irrationality of the system is hard to miss. This the fourth face of our spectre--its deep irrationality. How can it be that in a world of such material deprivation, we must worry about crises of overproduction? (How can there be too much stuff, when so many people have so little?) How can it be that the amazing technologies we keep developing tend to intensify, not lessen, our pace of work and make our jobs and lives less, not more, secure? How can it be that global "development"--the product of human creativity and ingenuity--now threatens the ecological stability of our planet? In short, how is it that our own creations turn against us? (Marx termed this fundamental feature of capitalism our "alienation from our products.")
The spectre of globalized capitalism: infinitely alluring, mysteriously powerful, savagely unequal, and profoundly irrational--perhaps it is unstoppable. It is certainly portrayed that way in the mass media everywhere and by many otherwise thoughtful academics. But simply repeating Margaret Thatcher's mantra--TINA (There Is No Alternative), TINA, TINA, TINA--doesn't make it so. Surely we should be suspicious of the "bankers' fatalism" (French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu's apt term) that pervades our contemporary culture, since the sense of helplessness it engenders serves so nicely the interests of those bankers.
The Counterproject
I want to suggest another possibility, in my view a very real possibility. I propose that humanity's project for the twenty-first century will be to exorcise the ghost that now haunts us, the all-too-real spectre which is in fact our own creation. This project--let us call it a counterproject, since it stands in opposition to the ongoing project of globalizing capital--will of necessity be a vast and complicated affair, involving, ultimately, millions of people. It is an all- embracing project for human emancipation. It is the project to alter all the attitudes, practices and structures that circumscribe unnecessarily the possibilities of human happiness. It will have a practical dimension--the organizing and mobilizing of large masses of people, one by one, locally, regionally, nationally and internationally. It will also have a theoretical dimension.
This theoretical dimension will itself be complex. First of all, the counterproject must situate itself theoretically with respect to the oppositional, anti-capitalist movements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and with respect to the other emancipatory movements of these centuries, especially the ongoing gender revolution, the struggle for racial equality, the fight against homophobia, the effort to preserve our natural environment, and the mobilizations against nuclear madness and for genuine peace. All of these struggles will be seen as part of the larger project, the counterproject, the huge, global effort to put an end to structural oppression and to ensure every human being a fair chance at self-realization and human happiness.
In many (perhaps most) quarters this counterproject will be called "socialist" or "communist," because, if it is anti- capitalist--which it must be if it is to be a movement for human emancipation--it will be so labeled by its well-financed enemies. Of that we can be certain. As Marx and Engels noted long ago:
Where is the party in opposition that has not been decried as communistic by its opponents in power? Where the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of Communism, against the more advanced opposition parties?"
There will be no point in contesting this label, which can in fact be worn proudly. The counterproject will draw on the rich theoretical legacy of the socialist tradition, and it will take sustenance from the many heroic struggles waged under the socialist banner. It will do so without denying the short- comings, failures, perversions and atrocities of parties and governments that have called themselves socialist. (The parallel with Christianity is striking. Progressive Christians draw strength and inspiration from the Christian tradition without denying the bigotry, corruption and abuse that is also a part of Christianity's history.)
The counterproject, if it is to have any chance of success, must be a dialectical socialism, not a nihilistic socialism. Its aim is not to negate the existing order, wipe everything out and start over, but to create a new order that preserves what is good in the present while mitigating the irrationality and the evil. The counterproject will not be what Marx denounced as "crude communism," a communism animated by envy and wanting to level down and destroy whatever cannot be enjoyed by all. It will be a project that builds on the material and cultural accomplishments of past centuries. It will embrace the political ideals of liberty, democracy and the rule of law. It will endorse and promote such values as generosity, solidarity and human creativity, and also self-discipline, personal responsibility, and hard work. It will not sneer at these latter values as "bourgeois values." They will be acknowledged to be indispensable to the construction of a new world.
The counterproject may call itself socialist or communist, but it must also reach beyond the confines of that tradition. It must not make the mistake of assuming that the struggle against capitalism is more urgent than the other struggles that comprise the counterproject, or that these other struggles are somehow reducible to the struggle against capital. Theoreticians of the counterproject will need to be clear on this point. It should not be claimed (because it is not true) that the struggle against the power of capital is more fundamental than, for example, the struggle against patriarchy or against the deep and bloody oppressions sanctioned by racism. It should not be maintained (because it is not true) that the dispositions and structures that sustain sexism, racism and homophobia are less deeply rooted than those that sustain capitalism or less in need of being rooted out. If we are to have a truly emancipatory socialism, we must have more than socialism.
Successor-System Theory
In addition to specifying its relationship to past and present emancipatory movements, the counterproject must also articulate a successor-system to capitalism. It must be able to specify in some detail an economic order beyond capitalism.
This concept of a successor-system is utterly lacking among the "practical Left" today--those people engaged in concrete struggles against concrete oppression. Virtually all the anti- systemic struggles being waged at present (and there are many) are taking place within the imaginative and conceptual horizon of capital. In the advanced industrial parts of the world, these struggles are largely defensive. Capital cites "global competition" as the rationale for dismantling the welfare provisions of social democracy. This capitalist offensive is being resisted. Students and workers have gone on strike, and have taken to the streets, in Italy, France and elsewhere to block government roll-backs of hard-won gains. In poorer countries workers, peasants, students, women fight to achieve what has already been achieved in rich countries with respect to human rights, democracy, labor rights, gender equality, rights for indigenous people. In some instances movements are pushing to extend further what has already been gained under social democracy: tighter environmental legislation, a shorter workweek, more substantive equality for women, ethnic minorities, indigenous people and non-heterosexuals. All of these struggles are important, but it is hard not to notice in none of these cases do we find articulated a specific conception of a new mode of production. This issue seems not to be on anyone's agenda.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the lack of a well- formulated successor-system theory has become acutely, if unconsciously, felt almost everywhere on the Left. How else explain the fact that this collapse has been so demoralizing even to those many Leftists (the vast majority, I dare say) who did not view the Soviet Union as the embodiment of socialist ideals? Whatever its failings, the Soviet Union represented an alternative to capitalism; it was, if far from perfect, a successor-system. Capitalism was not, as it now seems to be, the only game in town. (I will later argue that appearances are misleading here, that capitalism, today, is not the only game in town. But without a theory of a successor-system, we can only view the world through the lens of capital.)
The counterproject needs a theory of a successor-system. It is my contention that we now have sufficient theoretical and empirical resources to articulate such a theory. We are vastly better situated than Marx or even Lenin was in this respect, since we have behind us not only a century of socio-economic experimentation with alternatives to capitalism, but we also have access to data and conceptual tools that were unavailable to the founding theoreticians of socialism. We can now say, with far more warranted confidence than they ever could, what will work and what won't. There is a certain irony here. At precisely the moment when capitalism appears strongest and most hegemonic, we can assert with more evidence-backed conviction than ever before that an efficient, dynamic, democratic alternative to capitalism is indeed possible.
Before getting to concrete structures, which will be specified in Chapter Three, let me elaborate more fully what I mean by "successor-system theory." Successor-system theory might best be viewed as a supplement to Karl Marx's famous theory of history. Marx's "historical materialism," although much maligned, remains the most plausible theory of history that we have. Countless non-Marxists and even anti-Marxists appeal to it, usually unwittingly, often simplistically. It has no serious rival as a theory of history. The most powerful charge that can be leveled against it is simply that history, by its very nature, cannot be theorized. If it can be, then something like historical materialism must surely be true.
In broad formulation historical materialism asserts that the human species is a pragmatic, creative species that refuses to submit passively to the felt difficulties of material and social life. Through a process of technological and social innovation, often proceeding by means of trial and error, we reshape the world over time so as to make it more rational, more productive and more congenial to our capacity for species-solidarity. The process is not smooth. It is always mediated by class struggle. There are setbacks as well as advances. But human history does exhibit a directional intelligibility. We, as a species, are gaining ever more self-conscious control over our world and over ourselves.
When applied to the modern world, historical materialism claims that capitalism, the dominent economic system in Marx's day and in our own, will be superseded by a more rational order. This successor-system has been traditionally called "socialism," and has been viewed as itself a stage on the way to a higher "communism."
As everyone who has studied Marx knows, there is a blank page at precisely this point in the theory. Marx says almost nothing as to what this "socialism" would look like. Virtually no attention is given to the institutional structures that should replace those of capitalism and thus define an economic order genuinely superior to capitalism, better able to take advantages of the technical and social possibilities opened up by capital.
When socialism descended from theory to practice, it had to confront this lacuna. Lenin, writing on the eve of the Russian Revolution, thought it would be a simple matter to replace capitalism with something better--but he soon learned otherwise. Since there was nothing in the Marxian corpus to provide much guidance, the Bolsheviks had to improvise. They tried a very radical War Communism, which got them through the Civil War, but then broke down. They backtracked to Lenin's New Economic Policy, which reinstituted money, reintroduced the market, and even allowed for private ownership of means of production. The NEP was successful, but not wildly so, and so, following Lenin's death, Stalin opted for something more dramatic. Agriculture was collectivized (at terrible human cost), all enterprises were nationalized, market relations were abolished, and an immense central planning apparatus was put in place to coordinate the economy. What we now think of as "the Soviet economic model" came into being.
For a rather long while, at least fifty years, it looked as if this radically new way of organizing an economy was the wave of the future. The Soviet Union industrialized while the West collapsed into Depression--as Marx had predicted it would. The Soviet Union survived a German invasion, broke the back of the Nazi military machine, then, without any Western help, rebuilt its war-ravaged economy. Next came Sputnik, and a deep concern in Western circles that this new economic order might indeed "bury us"--as Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev proclaimed it would. Numerous Western economists looked at relative growth rates and nervously plotted the point at which the Soviet economy would surpass that of the United States.
Leaders of the capitalist West scrambled to contain this dynamic giant, whose example was proving contagious worldwide. In 1949 the world's most populous nation declared itself a "People's Republic." A few years later the communist forces of Vietnam defeated their French colonial masters. In 1959 the dreaded disease infected the Western hemisphere, as Fidel Castro, at the head of a guerilla army drove the Battista dictatorship from power, and shortly thereafter defied the United States by proclaiming "Socialismo or Muerte." By 1975 the Vietnamese had defeated the vastly more powerful Americans, who had replaced the French, and began reconstructing their economy along non- capitalist lines. In 1979 a guerilla movement toppled the U.S.- backed Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua, and although declining to call themselves communists, looked to Cuba and the Soviet Union for aid and inspiration. The course of history seemed clearly marked.
But, as we all know, a funny thing happened on the way to the future. In the 1980s Soviet economic growth ground to a halt. The economy didn't collapse (that would come only with the attempted capitalist restoration), but the Soviet model hit its limits. It couldn't exploit new technological developments, particularly in the areas of information processing, as effectively as their capitalist rivals. People became increasingly discontent. Thus, as an historical materialist would predict, with existing relations of production inadequate to new forces of production, there occurred a decisive shift in class power. To use Marx's words, "the whole vast superstructure was more or less rapidly transformed." (The West did not sit idly by during this historical upheaval, but intervened as best it could and with considerable success to insure that the class it favored--the one committed to restoring capitalism--came out on top.)
Does the collapse of the Soviet model, not only in Russia but throughout Eastern Europe, mean that Marx has been proved wrong? Only if it is assumed that every attempt at constructing a successor-system to a given order must necessarily succeed. But such an assumption hardly accords with historical materialism's basic orientation to the world. As we have seen, historical materialism sees the human species as a practical species groping to solve the problems that confront it. There is no reason to expect success right away. It is more probable to see only partial successes at first or outright failures with subsequent attempts learning from these experiences--until finally a transformation takes hold that is genuinely superior to the old order, and hence irreversible.
Neither I nor anyone else can prove that historical materialism is the correct theory of history. It is a hopeful, optimistic theory. It aims to be "scientific," but it clearly embodies elements that do not lend themselves to scientific validation. Still, it is a plausible theory, made even more plausible when supplemented by an adequate successor-system theory. This, at any rate, is what I hope to show.
What would count as an adequate successor-system theory? Let me specify what I take to be the most important criteria.
1. The theory should specify an economic model that can be cogently defended to professional economists and to ordinary citizens as being both economically and ethically superior to capitalism. The model, although necessarily abstract, should be concrete enough to appear plausible as a genuine alternative to the existing order.
2. The theory should orient our understanding so as to enable us to make sense of the major economic experiments of this century, particularly those of the post-World War II period, which have been numerous and diverse. If the human species is indeed groping toward a post-capitalist economic order, successor-system theory should illuminate that process.
3. The theory should clarify our understanding of the various reforms for which progressive parties and movements are currently struggling, and it should be suggestive of additional reform possibilities. Historical materialism sees the institutions of new societies as usually developing within the interstices of the old. Successor-system theory should help us locate, so that we may protect and nourish, the seeds and sprouts of what could become a new economic order.
4. The theory should enable us to see, at the structural level, how a transition from capitalism to the successor- system might come about. That is to say, it should allow us to specify a set of structural modifications that might become feasible under certain plausible historical conditions, which would transform (a possibly much-reformed) capitalism into a genuine socialism.
These are the criteria by which we will evaluate the theory to be set out in the following chapters: the cogency of the model itself as a viable alternative to capitalism, the theory's explanatory power, its fruitfulness in guiding a reform agenda, and the plausibility of its transition story. .
Let me underscore what successor-system theory is not. It is not the whole of counterproject theory. It is not even the whole of the economic component of this theory. Successor-system theory is centered on a rather abstract economic model. It does not concern itself with the actual history of capitalism--its brutality and barbarism, its relationship to slavery or colonialism. It does not address, except indirectly, such Marxian concepts as alienated labor, fetishism of commodities, the labor theory of value or the falling rate of profit. It does not concern itself with the ways in which the economic "base" of society manifests itself in other areas of society.
Nor does successor-system theory address in a sustained or systematic fashion the issues of racism, sexism, homophobia and other forms of structural oppression. These issues are important, exceedingly so, but they lie outside the purview of successor-system theory.
Successor-system theory is further restricted in that it is not a theory about Marx's "higher stage of communism," or the ultimate fate of humanity. It is concerned with what is both necessary and possible now--the immediate next stage beyond capitalism, a stage that will be marked by its origins within capitalism.
Revolution
Successor-system theory must address the question of transition--which is the question of revolution. If it cannot offer a plausible story as to how we might get from here to there, successor-system theory remains an intellectual exercise, interesting in its own right perhaps, and capable of providing a rejoinder to the smug apologists for capital, but devoid of any practical purpose.
However, successor-system theory need not (and will not) offer a full-blown "theory of revolution." It may be that the time is not yet ripe for such a theory. At any rate I don't claim to have one. I do think it is possible to offer some plausible scenarios. These will be presented in Chapter Six. I also think it possible to discern the general direction a new theory of revolution should take. Let me conclude this chapter with a few preliminary observations.
A new theory of revolution will recognize that the old models of social revolution, drawing their inspiration from the French, Russian, Chinese and Cuban Revolutions are largely inappropriate to the world today, certainly to advanced industrial societies, perhaps even to poor countries. The question of armed insurrection will have to be carefully reexamined. The masses are never going to storm Capitol Hill or the White House, nor is a people's army ever going to swoop down from the Appalachian Mountains and march triumphantly down Pennsylvania Avenue.
The new theory will recognize the need for a more concrete vision of structural alternatives than has been customary in the past. It will clearly recognize that it is not enough to say "Seize state power and establish socialism." Blind faith in the laws of history or in an omniscient Party will no longer do. Most workers, certainly those in rich countries, have more to lose now than just their chains. Their intelligence and justifiable suspicion of abstract promises must be respected. We must be able to say with some degree of precision where it is we want to go if we ever hope to get there.
The theory will emphasize the need for reform struggles now, before the time is ripe for a truly fundamental socio-economic transformation. What we get, if and when conjunctural historical forces open up space for fundamental structural change, will depend crucially on what we have already gotten--and on who, during the course of many struggles, we have become. As we shall see, radical structural transformation will involve a substantial deepening of democracy. But democracy, while a necessary ingredient of the kind of world we want, is not sufficient in and of itself to guarantee the quality of life to which we aspire. The output of a democratic procedure depends on the quality of the input.
Hence the importance now of struggles against racism, sexism and homophobia, against senseless violence, rampant consumerism and environmental destruction, and for new ways of living with one another and with nature.
The new theory will also emphasize the need for diverse strategies. How we get to where we want to go will depend crucially on where we happen to be. The transition to a genuinely democratic socialism will necessarily be different, depending on whether the country is rich or poor, on whether the country has undergone a socialist revolution in the past, and if so, the degree to which a new capitalist class has come into being and has succeeded in legitimizing itself. Although there will be commonalities of vision, there will be differences as well--of tactics, transitional strategies and ultimate aims. Unlike the program of global capitalism, one size does not fit all. The counterproject will not compel all nations to aim for the same kind of development, or to adopt the same technologies, same values, same patterns of consumption. The counterproject will call a halt to the McDonaldization of the world.
Finally, an adequate theory of the transition from global capitalism to democratic, sustainable socialism will stress the need for an international social movement, not in the sense of a unified, centrally-directed party, but in the sense of a common consciousness that recognizes a kind of unity in diversity and allows for cross-national cooperation and inspiration. For the counterproject is nothing less than the project of our species.