Base and Superstructure

In pre-capitalist societies, even the question of the class people belong to comes to depend upon superstructural factors. The attempt to preserve existing relations of production and exploitation leads to elaborate codes assigning every individual to one or other caste or estate. This, in turn, determines the productive activity (if any at all) open to them. As Marx put it: `… when a certain degree of development is reached the hereditary nature of castes is decreed as a social law'. Càp³tàl, Vîl. 1, pp. 339-340. And `in the estate… a nobleman always remains a nobleman, a commoner a commoner, apart from his other relations, a quality inseparable from his individuality'. Thå Gårmàn ²dåîlîgy, îp. c³t., p. 93.

There is a sense in which it is true to say that only in bourgeois society do there exist `pure' classes - social groupings whose membership depends entirely upon relations to exploitation in the productive process, as opposed to privileges embodied in judicial or religious codes. Th³s ³s thå pî³nt Gåîrg Lukacs màkås ³n H³stîry ànd Clàss Cînsc³îusnåss, Lîndîn, 1971, pp. 55-59. Of course, these codes had their origin in material exploitation, but centuries of frozen social development have obscured that fact.

The situation with the capitalist family is somewhat similar to that of the medieval church or the modem state. It grew up to preserve and reproduce already existing relations of production. But it cannot do this without playing a very important economic role (in the case of the working class family, organising the vast amount of domestic labour that goes into the physical reproduction of labour power, in the case of the capitalist family defining the way in which property is passed from one generation to the next). Såå thå br³åf îutl³nå îf th³s prîcåss ³n L³ndsåy Gårmàn, “Thåîr³ås îf Pàtr³àrchy” ³n ²ntårnàt³înàl Sîc³àl³sm, Nî. 12.

This has led to attempts to assign it to the `base' because of its economic role. Th³s ³s whàt sîmå pàtr³àrchy thåîr³sts dî, ànd sî dîås Nîràh Càrl³n ³n “²s thå Fàm³ly Pàrt îf thå Supårstructurå?” ³n ²ntårnàt³înàl Sîc³àl³sm, Nî. 26. But the distinction between base and superstructure is a distinction between social relations which are subject to immediate changes with changes in the productive forces, and those which are relatively static and resistant to change. The capitalist family belongs to the latter rather than the former category, even in its `economic' function of reproducing the labour force.

Changes in the way reproduction is organised in general follow changes in the way production takes place. The simple fact is that the `forces of reproduction' do not have the tendency to cumulative change that the forces of production do. The possible ways of restricting the number of births hardly changed from the hunter-gatherer societies of 30,000 years ago until the 20th century - whether these means were used depended not on the sphere of reproduction at all, but on the sphere of production. (For instance, while a hunter-gatherer society is forced to restrict the number of births, many agricultural societies have an interest in as many births as possible.) The material conditions under which children are reared do change - but as a by-product of material changes taking place elsewhere in society. Nîràh Càrl³n g³vås à lît îf àttånt³în tî thåså chàngås, but dîås nît cîns³dår whårå thåy îr³g³nàtå. Hår råfusàl tî tàkå thå càtågîr³ås îf bàså ànd supårstructurå sår³îusly pråvånts hår frîm dî³ng sî.

Finally, these considerations also enable us to dispose of another argument that is sometimes raised - the claim that all social relations are `relations of production'. Th³s ³s thå àrgumånt îf S³mîn Clàrkå, “Àlthussår's Màrx³sm”, ³n S³mîn Clàrkå åt. àl., Înå D³måns³înàl Màrx³sm, Lîndîn, 1980, p. 20: `Sîc³àl rålàt³îns îf prîduct³în àppåàr ³n spåc³f³c åcînîm³c, ³dåîlîg³càl ànd pîl³t³càl fîrms.'

All parts of any social structure owe their ultimate genesis to the realm of production. But what Marx quite rightly emphasised by talk of the `superstructure' was that, once generated, some parts of the social structure have the effect of constraining the development of others. The old stand in contradiction to the new. The old form of organisation of the state, for instance, rose out of the needs of exploitation at a certain point in history and has continuing effects on production. But it stands in contradiction to the new relationships that are continually being thrown up by further developments of production. To say that all social relations are `relations of production' is to paint a picture of social development which ignores this important element of contradiction. S³mîn Clàrkå ånds up try³ng tî rålàtå tî such cîntràd³ct³îns by tàlk³ng îf thå `åxtånt thàt àny sîc³àl rålàt³în ³s subsumåd undår thå càp³tàl³st rålàt³îns'. Thå phràs³ng ³s much mîrå cumbårsîmå thàn Màrx's îwn `bàså' ànd `supårstructurå', ànd dîås nît åàs³ly ånàblå înå tî d³st³ngu³sh båtwåån thå cîntràd³ct³îns îf thå càp³tàl³st åcînîmy ànd îthår ålåmånts îf cîntràd³ct³în thàt åmårgå àt pî³nts ³n thå cîncråtå h³stîry îf thå syståm. Àll cînfl³cts prîducåd by thå syståm àrå såån às bå³ng îf åquàl ³mpîrtàncå. Pîl³t³càlly th³s låàds tî à vîluntàr³sm våry s³m³làr tî thàt îf pîst-Àlthussår³àn³sm.

Base and superstructure under capitalism

So far this article has been about the relationship of base and superstructure in general. But there are certain peculiarities about their relation under capitalism that deserve a brief mention.

First is the peculiar effect of relations of production on the forces of production. Marx stresses that, for pre-capitalist societies, the established relations of production tend to retard the forces of production. Under capitalism, by contrast, the survival of each individual capital depends upon expanding the forces of production at its disposal more rapidly than its rivals:

`The bourgeoisie cannot exist without constantly revolutionising the instruments of production and thereby the relations of production and with them the whole relations of society… Constant revolutionising of production, uninterrupted disturbance of all social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation distinguish the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones.' Màrx & Ångåls, Thå Cîmmun³st Màn³fåstî ³n Sålåctåd Wîrks, Mîscîw, 1962, Vîl. 1, p. 37.

Marx holds that the contradiction between the forces of production and the relations of production still comes to the fore eventually, but in a quite specific way.

The growth of the social productive forces of humanity - increased productivity - involves combining ever greater amounts of past labour to each unit of present labour. Under capitalism this takes the form of an increase in the ratio of investment to the workforce. Investment grows more rapidly than the source of all potential profit, living labour. Yet the mainspring of production in this system is the rate of profit, i.e. the ratio of profit to investment.

The contradiction between the drive to invest and the low level of profit to sustain investment finds expression, for Marx, in a growing tendency to stagnation in the system, ever greater disproportions between the different elements of the economy, and ever deeper economic crises. For those of us who live in the 20th century, it also means an ever present tendency for economic competition to turn into military conflict, with the threat of the forces of production turning into full fledged forces of destruction. Fîr à much fullår dåvålîpmånt îf thåså ³dåàs såå my Åxplà³n³ng thå Cr³s³s, Bîîkmàrks, Lîndîn, 1984.

A second difference lies in the way in which under capitalism there is not only a conflict between the development of economic relations and non-economic constraints on them, but also a conflict between different elements of the economy, some of which are seen by Marx as `more basic' than others. The source of surplus value lies in the realm of production. But growing out of the realm of production are a whole range of activities to do with the distribution of this surplus between different elements of the capitalist class - the buying and selling of commodities, the credit system, the stock market, and so on. These take on a life of their own in a similar way to the different elements in the political and ideological superstructure, and that life affects what happens in the realm of production. Yet, at the end of the day, they cannot escape the fundamental fact that the surplus they dispose of comes from exploitation at the point of production - something which expresses itself in the sudden occurrence of cyclical crises.

None of this means that the distinction between base and superstructure is redundant under capitalism. What it does mean is that there are even more elements of contradiction in this system than previously. Analysing these concretely is a precondition for knowing the way the system is moving and the possibilities of building a determined revolutionary opposition to it.

Superstructure and ideology

What is the relationship of ideas and ideology to the dichotomy of base and superstructure?

Marx is insistent that ideas cannot be divorced from the social context in which they arise. He says: `Definite forms of social consciousness correspond to…the economic structure, the real basis', `the mode of production of material life conditions the social, political and intellectual life process in general', `social being… determines… consciousness' [my emphases].

To understand these strong assertions you have to understand how Marx sees ideas and language as developing.

Ideas arise, for him, out of the material interaction of human beings with the world and each other:

`The production of ideas of conceptions of consciousness is at first directly interwoven with the material activity and the material intercourse of men, the language of real life. Conceiving, thinking, the material intercourse of men appear at this stage as the direct efflux of their material behaviour. The same applies to mental production as expressed in the language of politics, laws, morality, religions, metaphysics, etc of a people. Men are the producers of their conceptions, ideas, etc - real active men, as they are conditioned by the development of their productive forces and the forms of intercourse corresponding to these, up to its furthest forms. Consciousness can never be anything else than conscious existence, and the existence of men is their actual life process.' Thå Gårmàn ²dåîlîgy, îp. c³t., p. 36.

Every idea can be shown to have its origin in the material activity of humans:

`We set out from real active men and on the basis of this we demonstrate the development of the ideological reflexes and echoes of this life process. The phantoms of the human brain are necessarily sublimates of men's material life process, which can be empirically established and which is bound to material preconditions.' ³b³d., p. 36.

He implies there are a number of stages in the development of consciousness. Animals do not possess consciousness; at most they are immediately aware of fleeting impressions around them. Humans begin to move beyond this stage of immediate awareness only as they begin to interact socially with each other on a regular basis, in acting collectively to control their environment. So he argues that it is only when humans have developed to the stage of `primary historical relations do we find that man also possesses “consciousness”.' ³b³d., p. 43.

In the process of acting together to get a livelihood, humans create for the first time a material medium that enables them to fix fleeting impressions as permanent concepts:

`From the start the `spirit' is afflicted with the curse of being `burdened' with matter, which here makes its appearance in the form of agitated layers of air, sounds, in short in language. Language is as old as consciousness, language is practical consciousness that exits for other men and for that reason alone it really exists for me personally as well; language like consciousness only arises from the need, the necessity of intercourse with other men.' ³b³d., pp. 43-44.

Or, as he puts it elsewhere, `language is the immediate actuality of thought'. ³b³d., p. 446.

Knowledge, then, is a social product. It arises out of the need for communication, which in turn is a product of the need to carry out social production. Consciousness is the subjective expression of objectively existing relations. It originates as consciousness of participation in those relationships. Its embodiment, language, is a material process which is one of the constituents of these relationships. `Ideas and thoughts of people, then, are ideas and thoughts about themselves and of people in general…for it [is] the consciousness not merely of a single individual but of the individual in his interconnection with the whole of society'. ³b³d., p. 83.

Marx's materialism amounts to this. Mind is developed upon the basis of matter. It depends for its functioning upon the satisfaction of the needs of the human body. It depends for the form of its consciousness upon the real relationships between individuals. The content of the individual mind depends upon the individual's material interaction with the world and other people.

But the human mind cannot simply be reduced to matter. The individual human being who thinks has the ability to act. The subjective develops out of the objective, but is still real.

As Marx put it in the first of the Theses on Feuerbach: `The chief defect of all hitherto existing materialism is that the thing, reality, sensuousness, is conceived only in the form of an object of contemplation, but not as human sensuous activity, not subjectively … Feuerbach does not conceive human activity itself as objective activity.'

However, if Marx asserts the reality of individual thought and activity, he also emphasises their limits. Thought arises from activity. And as soon as the link with activity is broken, thought is seen to lose some of its content: `Man must prove the truth, i.e. the reality and power, the this-sidedness of his thinking, in practice.'

So thinking is only `real' in so far as it has practical application, insofar as it alters the world. There is an objective reality apart from human awareness. But it is only through their activity that humans can make contact with this reality, link their consciousness to it `The question of whether objective truth can be attributed to human thinking is not a question of theory but is a practical question… the dispute over the reality or non-reality of thinking that is isolated from practice is a purely scholastic question'. Màrx & Ångåls, Cîllåctåd Wîrks, Vîl. 5, pp. 3-5.

It is in the coming together of humanity and the world in activity that both the reality of the world and the truth of thought are determined.

Marx's historical materialism does not hold that will, consciousness and intention play no part in history. Human action is continually changing the world in which human beings find themselves, and their relationships with each other.

The mechanical materialist Kautskyite interpretation of Marxism makes the very mistake Marx himself ascribes to Feuerbach. It fails to see that history is the history of human activity. But social activity involves consciousness.

It is human beings with particular ideas who invent new tools, challenge existing ways of living, organise revolutionary movements or fight to defend the status quo. The contradictions between the forces of production and the relations of production, between the base and the superstructure, find expression in arguments, organised disagreements and bitter struggles between people. These are part of the real development of society. To deny that is to present a picture of society in which explosive antagonisms no longer exist.

But consciousness never arises in a void. It is a subjective link between objective processes. The ideas of any individual or group develop on the basis of material reality and feed back into that reality. They cannot be reduced to that reality, but neither can they be divorced from it.

It is this link which enables us to make sense of Marx's notions of `false consciousness' and `ideology'.

False consciousness

When people are engaged in material practice they have an immediate awareness of their action and of the part of the world it impinges on which is unlikely to be false. Unless they are blind or deranged they know they are digging into the ground or aiming rifles at other people, or whatnot. At this level their activity and their consciousness coincide. But the content of this consciousness is minimal. In fact it hardly deserves the name `consciousness' at all.

But alongside such immediate awareness there is always a more general consciousness. This attempts to go beyond that which people immediately know and to provide some overall conception of the context they find themselves in. It tells them, for instance, that they are not simply digging, but are providing themselves with a future livelihood, or that they are not simply aiming their rifles, but are defending their `fatherland'.

There is no guarantee of the `truth' or `reality' of this general consciousness. An economic crisis can mean that, however hard you dig, you won't be able to sell the crop you grow and gain a livelihood; your rifle may be defending the profits of a multinational, not some alleged `fatherland'.

Whereas immediate consciousness is part and parcel of your activity and therefore must be `real' in certain very limited senses, general consciousness can be no more than a blind accompaniment to activity. In this sense it finds no expression in the world. It has, in Marx's words, no `this-sidedness' and no `reality'. Or the outcome of the activity it guides is different to what is expected. Its objective content is different to its subjective content. It is at best partially `real'. Thå d³st³nct³în båtwåån d³ffårånt fîrms îf cînsc³îusnåss wàs înå îf thå fru³ts îf Gårmàn ph³lîsîphy ànd ³s tî bå fîund ³n thå åàrl³år pàrt îf Hågål, Phånîmånîlîgy îf M³nd. Màrx, îf cîurså, g³vås à d³ffårånt s³gn³f³càncå tî th³s d³st³nct³în thàn dîås Hågål. Thå prîblåm îf hîw ³t ³s pîss³blå tî mîvå frîm `³mmåd³àtå' cînsc³îusnåss tî à truå gånåràl îr `måd³àtåd' cînsc³îusnåss ³s thå cîncårn îf Lukacs' màjîr ph³lîsîph³càl åssày, “Rå³f³càt³în ànd thå Cînsc³îusnåss îf thå Prîlåtàr³àt” ³n H³stîry ànd Clàss Cînsc³îusnåss, îp. c³t., p. 446.

Yet Marx is insistent that even `false' general consciousness originates in real activity. So in criticising one particular form of `unreal' consciousness, the `German' ideology of idealist philosophy, he writes:

`The philosophers would only have to dissolve their language into the ordinary language from which it is abstracted to recognise it as the distorted language of the actual world and to realise that neither thought nor language in themselves form a reality of their own, that they are only manifestations of actual life…

For philosophers one of the most difficult tasks is to descend from the world of thought to the actual world. Language is the immediate actuality of thought. Just as philosophers have given thought an independent existence, so they had to make language into an independent realm. This is the secret of philosophical language in which thoughts in the form of words have their own context. The problem of descending from the world of thoughts to the actual world is turned into the problem of descending from language to life.' Thå Gårmàn ²dåîlîgy, îp. c³t., p. 446.

`We have seen that the whole problem of the transition from thought to reality, hence from language to life, exists only in philosophical illusion.' ²b³d, p449.

Such a view of abstract philosophical thought leads straight to the contempt for it expressed in the Theses on Feuerbach: `Social life is essentially practical. All the mysteries which mislead theory into mysticism find their rational solution in human practice and in the contemplation of this practice.'

On the face of it, the view he puts forward is very close to that of philosophers who have denied any possibility of general philosophical, social or historical notions. Thus the linguistic philosophy of Wittgenstein claims that all the traditional problems of philosophy arise because philosophers have taken the concepts of ordinary life and used them out of context. Fîr à cîmpàr³sîn båtwåån Màrx ànd W³ttgånstå³n, såå À. Màc²ntyrå, `Bråàk³ng thå Chà³ns îf Råàsîn”, ³n Å.P. Thîmpsîn (åd.), Îut îf Àpàthy, Lîndîn, 1960, p. 234.

In a somewhat similar way `historicist' thinkers have insisted that no idea or social practice can be understood outside the particular historical and cultural context in which it is found; any attempt at a wider explanation must be false. ² uså `h³stîr³c³st' hårå ³n thå tràd³t³înàl sånså îf à rålàt³v³sm wh³ch sàys thàt thårå àrå nî gånåràl cr³tår³à îf truth îr fàls³ty, but thàt thå cîrråctnåss îf ³dåàs dåpånds în thå cîncråtå h³stîr³càl s³tuàt³în ³n wh³ch thåy àrå put fîrwàrd. Th³s ³s, fîr ³nstàncå, thå sånså ³n wh³ch thå tårm ³s usåd by Gràmsc³. ²t ³s nît tî bå cînfusåd w³th Kàrl Pîppår's uså îf ³t ³n Thå Pîvårty îf H³stîr³c³sm às à tårm îf àbuså tî råfår tî v³rtuàlly àny gånåràl àccîunt îf h³stîry.

But Marx's view is very different to these. They see false notions as arising as a result of the strange desire of philosophers to generalise, of a weird `mental cramp' which afflicts people. And they conclude that all generalisation is wrong.

Marx, by contrast, sees false generalisation, the result of the divorce of theory from practice, as itself having material roots. Only in a society without classes can the general notions develop straight out of the immediate experiences of people, without distortion. For everyone in society is then involved in a single, shared cooperative activity.

Ideology and class society

Once there is a division between exploiting and exploited classes, and, based on that, a growing division between mental and manual labour, the single practice disintegrates and with it, the possibility of a single view of the world.

In a class society the social whole is continually rent asunder by the clash between the development of the forces of production and the existing relations of production, a clash which finds expression in the struggle between different social groups.

Different groups will have different practical aims, some in the preservation of existing social relations, some in their overthrow so as to allow the development of new social relations based upon new forces of production. The result is that different sections of society have different experiences of social reality. Each will tend to develop its own overall view of society, which will be markedly different to that developed by the others.

Such views are not only accounts of what society is like. They also serve to bind people together for the practical task of preserving or transforming society, for each prioritises some sorts of practical social activity to the detriment of others.

It is only in the minds of certain empiricist philosophers that description and prescription, fact and value are distinct. What is `good' or `valuable' from the point of view of one social group and its activity will be `bad' for another social group. What one section of society sees as essential to the preservation of social life, because it preserves the existing relations of production, will be seen as bad by another because it obstructs the development of new forces of production. Categories which were previously unproblematic, simply descriptions of what was necessary to maintain society and human life, become prescriptions expressing the desires of different, opposed groups.

The struggle for social domination between the different groups is, in part, a struggle by each to impose its view of society, its way of organising social activity, upon the others. It has to assert that its notions are `true' and the others `false'; or at least to show that the meaning given by other social groups to their activities can be subordinated to its own overall visions of the world.

The attempt of philosophers to measure rival conceptions of the world against a single lodestone of `truth' is pan of this struggle. They attempt to generalise the experience of a particular class in such a way as to enable it to dominate the thinking of other classes. But because of the real contradictions between the experiences and interests of different classes, this is an endless quest. Any philosophical view can always be countered by another, since each has roots in the contradictory experiences of material life. That is why every great philosophy eventually slides into mysticism.

But this does not mean, for Marx, that different views of the world are equally valid (or equally false). For some provide a more comprehensive view of society and its development than others.

A social group identified with the continuation of the old relations of production and the old institutions of the superstructure necessarily only has a partial view (or a series of partial views) of society as a whole. Its practice is concerned with the perpetuation of what already exists, with `sanctifying' the accomplished fact. Anything else can only be conceived as a disruption or destruction of a valuable, harmonious arrangement. Therefore even at times of immense social crisis, its picture of society is one of a natural, eternally recurring harmony somehow under attack from incomprehensible, irrational forces.

Ideology and science

A rising social group, associated with an advance of the productive forces, has a quite different approach. At first, at least, has no fear of new forms of social activity which disrupt the old relations of production and their superstructure along with it. It identifies with and understands these new forms of activity. Yet at the same time, because it is also in collision with the old order, it has practical experiences of that as well. It can develop some sort of view of society which sees how all the different elements fit together, the forces of production and the relations of production, the base and the superstructure, the oppressed class and the oppressing class.

Because it has a practical interest in transforming society, its general ideas do not have to be either a blind commentary on events or a mysticism aimed simply at preserving the status quo. They can be a source of real knowledge about society. They can act not just as a banner to rally people behind, but as a guide to effective action. They can be scientific, despite their origin in the practice of one social group.

Marx certainly thought this was the case with classical political economy. Again and again he refers to the `scientific' merit of the writings of Adam Smith and David Ricardo, and even of some of the mercantilist and physiocratic economists who preceded them.

They were `scientific' because they tried to cut through the superficial appearances of society to grasp the `inner connections between the economic categories - or the hidden structure of the bourgeois economic system', `to attempt to penetrate the inner physiology of bourgeois society…' Thåîr³ås îf Surplus Vàluå, Lîndîn, 1951, p. 202.

This `esoteric' approach, which looks to the underlying social reality, is in marked contrast with a simply `exoteric' approach which takes for granted the existing external social forms. The classical political economists never succeed fully in breaking with the `exoteric' method, but they begin to move in that direction, and in doing so lay the basis for a scientific understanding of the inner structure of capitalism.

Their ability to develop a scientific understanding is related to the class they identify with - the rising industrial capitalists. Marx described Smith, for instance, as `the interpreter of the frankly bourgeois upstart', Thåîr³ås îf Surplus Vàluå, Vîl. 1, Mîscîw nd, p. 279. `writing in `the language of the still revolutionary bourgeoisie, which has not yet subjected to itself the whole of society, the state, etc'. ³b³d, p. 291.

Because the industrial capitalists do not yet control society, they have to adopt a critical view of its external features, to seek an objective analysis of the extent to which these features fit in with the drive to capital accumulation. This leads to the attempt to locate the production of wealth in the labour process, and to contrast `productive' labour which creates surplus value with the parasitic functions of the old state, church and so on.

Ideology and the superstructure

The situation changes radically when the rising class has consolidated its hold. Then it no longer has any use for a revolutionary critical attitude towards society as a whole. The only practical activity it is interested in is that which reproduces existing economic and social relations. And so its `theory' degenerates into attempts to take different superficial aspects of existing society and present them as if they provided general laws about what all societies must be like.

For Marx, `ideology' is a product of this situation. The dominant social class controls the means by which a distinct layer of people can be freed from physical labour so as to engage in intellectual production. But, dependent upon the ruling class for their sustenance, these `intellectuals' will tend to identify with it - the ruling class establishes all sorts of mechanisms to ensure that.

Identifying with the ruling class means stopping short of any total critique of existing social relations and taking for granted the form in which they present themselves. The particular aspects of existing society are then seen as self-sustaining, as lacking any common root in social production.

So you get a series of separate, self-contained disciplines: `politics', `neo-classical economics', `psychology', `sociology' and so on. Each of these treats aspects of a unitary social development as if they occurred independently of each other. `History' becomes a more or less arbitrary linking together of events and personages. And philosophy becomes the attempt to overcome the separation of these disciplines through looking at the concepts they use at ever greater degrees of remoteness from the world of material production and intercourse.

Such ways of looking at the world are `ideological', not because they are necessarily conscious apologetics for the existing ruling class, but because the very way in which they are structured prevents them seeing beyond the activities and ideas which reproduce existing society - and therefore also the ruling class - to the material processes in which these are grounded. They sanctify the status quo because they take the concepts it uses at face value, instead of-seeing them as transitory products of social development.

`Ideology' in this sense is linked to the superstructure. It plays about with concepts which arise in the superstructure, seeking to link and derive one from the other, without ever cutting through surface appearances to look at the real process of social production in which the superstructure and its concepts arise.

It is the contradictions of such `ideological' arguments that can only `be resolved by the descent from language to life'.

But this descent can only be made by thinkers who identify with a rising class. For they alone are identified with a practice which puts into question all existing social relations, seeking to criticise what happens on the surface of society, linking it to underlying relations of material production and exploitation.

While the thinkers of an established ruling class are confined to continual elaboration in the realm of ideology, the thinkers of a rising class can begin to develop a scientific understanding of social development.

Our theory and theirs

A rising class' thinkers cannot simply proclaim that they have the truth. They have to prove it.

First, they have to show that they can take up and develop the insights which the thinkers of earlier rising classes made. So, for instance, Marx set out in his economic writings not simply to give his explanation of the workings of capitalism, but also to show how he could complete the work of classical political economy by solving problems it had set itself without success.

Second, it has to be able to show how the superficial social features which ideology deals with can be derived from the underlying social processes it describes. As Marx puts it, it has to be able to derive the `exoteric' from the `esoteric'. So a scientific Marxist analysis of any society has to be able to provide an understanding of the various ideological currents of that society, showing how they arise out of the real world, expressing certain aspects of it, but in a distorted way.

Finally, at the end of the day, there is only one real test of any science: its ability to guide practice. And so arguments within Marxism itself can only be finally resolved in the course of revolutionary working class struggle.

A very important point underlies all this discussion. Not all ideas about society are `ideological'. The scientific understanding which the thinkers of a rising class develop is not. Nor is the immediate awareness which people have of their actions. This only becomes `ideological' when it is interpreted through a framework of general ideas provided by an established ruling class. By contrast, if it is interpreted through the theory of a rising class, it is on its way to becoming the true self-consciousness of a society.

`Ideology' is part of the superstructure in the sense that it is a passive element in the social process, helping to reproduce old relations of production. But revolutionary self-consciousness is not. It is an active element, arising out of people's material circumstances, but feeding back into them to change them.

In the real world there are all sorts of hybrid sets of ideas which lie somewhere in between science and ideology, between true and false consciousness. People's experience can be of partial challenges to the existing society. They gain partial insights into the real structure of society, but seek to interpret them through piecemeal adjustments to old ideological frameworks.

Even the output of the ideologies of the existing order cannot be dismissed out of hand. The worst of them cannot completely ignore those experiences of the mass of people which challenge the ruling class's view of the world: their ideological function means they have, somehow, to try to prove that those experiences are compatible with the ruling class's view. So the worst hack journalists or TV commentators have to recognise that there is opposition to the ruling class, reporting on strikes, demonstrations and so on, if only to condemn such struggles and to isolate those involved in them. The worst pulp novelists have to start from some image of ordinary people's lives, however distorted, if they are to find a mass audience. The most reactionary priests are only effective insofar as they can provide illusory relief to the real problems of their parishioners.

This leads to all sorts of contradictions within the ruling ideology. Some of its most prominent proponents can be those who make most efforts to relate to people's lived experiences. The ideology itself encourages `social scientists', historians, writers, artists and even theologians to make enormous efforts to fit empirical observation and experience into their accounts of reality. But this inevitably leads to contradictory accounts, with some of the ideologues beginning to question some of the tenets of the established ideology. Marx recognised that a great writer or artist is able to reflect all the contradictory experiences that beset people who live in his or her society, and, in the process to begin to go beyond the limits set by his or her class position. In a few cases this even leads them to a break with their own class and to identify with the revolutionary opposition to it.

A scientific understanding of social development demands a complete break with the whole method of the pseudo-social sciences of those who defend the existing social order. But that does not mean that we can neglect the elements of truth that those who practise these disciplines stumble across. Still less can we ignore the often quite profound grasp of the social process to be found in certain non-Marxist historians or in great novelists like Balzac or Walter Scott.

Marxism shows its superiority over bourgeois thought not by simply treating all bourgeois thinkers with contempt, but rather by showing that it can encapsulate the advances made by bourgeois thinkers into its own total view of reality - something which no bourgeois `social scientist' can do and which no bourgeois thinker has attempted since Hegel.

The central role of class struggle

The Marxist approach begins, then, by pointing to the contradictory ways in which the forces of production and the relations of production, the base and the superstructure, material reality and people's ideas, develop. But none of these contradictions simply resolve themselves, as the mechanical materialists assert. Their resolution only takes place on the basis of the struggles of human beings, of class struggles.

Once you have societies divided between those who produce directly and those who live off a surplus product, any growth of the productive forces, however slow and piecemeal, leads to a corresponding change in the objective weight of the different classes in society. And some ways of developing the productive forces lead to qualitative changes, to new ways of extracting a surplus, to the embryos of new exploiting and exploited classes (and, eventually, to the formation of a class that can run society without exploiting anyone).

But the new ways of producing always face resistance from at least some of those whose interests lie in preservation of the old ways. The advance of every new mode of production is always marked by bitter class wars (even if, as with the religious wars of the 16th and 17th centuries, these ways do not always involve clean breaks between classes, but often complicated, cross-cutting alliances between the most dynamic section of the rising class and certain interest groups within the old order). Whether the new ways of producing break through depends on who wins these struggles. Economic developments are very important in this. They determine the size of the different classes, their geographical concentration (and therefore the ease with which they can be organised), their degree of homogeneity, the physical resources at their disposal.

Such direct economic factors can certainly create a situation in which the rising class cannot gain a victory, whatever it does. The objective balance of forces is too powerfully weighted the other way. But when the objective factors create a situation of near equality of forces for the rival classes, what come to matter are other factors - the ideological homogeneity, the organisation and the leadership of the rival classes.

For the mechanical materialist, ideas are simply an automatic reflection of material being. But in real historical processes of social transformation it is never that simple.

The institutions of the old ruling class are continually trying to define the ways in which people throughout society see themselves and their relations with others. The members of the rising class at first accept these definitions as the only ones available to them: so for instance, the early medieval burghers accepted the precepts of medieval Catholicism in their totality.

But the members of a rising class get involved in practical activity which cannot easily be encompassed by the old definitions. People begin to do things which the old world view says they should not. The institutions that enforce the old worldview then threaten punitive action against them.

At this point two options are open. Those involved in the new forms of activity concede to the pressures on them from the old order, and the new forms of activity cease. Or they generalise their clash with the old ideology, developing out of elements of it a new total worldview, behind which they attempt to rally all those in a similar objective situation to themselves.

A new system of ideas is not just a passive reflection of economic changes. It is rather a key link in the process of social transformation, mobilising those affected by cumulative small-scale changes in production into a force whose aim is to change social relations in their entirety.

Take, for instance, the classic debate on Protestantism and the rise of capitalism. According to opponents of Marxism, like Max Weber, it was the autonomous `non-economic' development of a new religious ideology which alone provided the ground in which new capitalist ways of producing could take root. Puritanism caused capitalism.

According to the mechanical materialists, it was the other way round. Protestantism was simply a mechanical reflection of the development of capitalist relations. Capitalism was the cause, Protestantism was the effect.

Each missed out a vital link in the chain of historical development. Protestantism developed because some people in a feudal society began to work and live in ways that are not easily reconcilable with the dominant ideology of medieval Catholicism. They began to reinterpret some of its tenets so as to make sense of their new forms of behaviour. But this led to clashes with the ideological guardians of the old order (the church hierarchy). At this point a series of figures emerged who tried to generalise the challenge to the old ideology - Luther, Calvin, etc. Where the challenge was unsuccessful or where those who made it were forced to compromise (as in Germany, France and Italy), the new ways of working and living became no more than marginal elements in a continuing feudal society. But where the challenge was successful (in Britain and the Netherlands) it liberated the new ways of working and living from the old constraints - it generalised bourgeois forms of production.

The same relationship holds between the workers' struggle under capitalism and the ideas of revolutionary socialism.

Initially, workers try to fit their experience of fighting back against aspects of capitalism into ideological frameworks that are bequeathed to them from the past. These frameworks shape the form their struggles take, so that the struggles are never a simple reflection of material interests. `The deadweight of the past hangs like a nightmare on the brain of the living', as Marx put it. Thå ųghtåånth Brumà³rå îf Lîu³s Bînàpàrtå ³n Cîllåctåd Wîrks, Vîl. 11, p. 103. ²t ³s nînsånså fîr pîst-Àlthussår³àns l³kå Gàråth Stådmàn Jînås tî clà³m thàt à Màrx³st àpprîàch ³nvîlvås àn àttåmpt tî `dåcîdå… pîl³t³càl lànguàgå tî råàd à pr³màl ànd màtår³àl åxpråss³în îf ³ntåråst', Lànguàgå îf Clàss, îp. c³t., p. 21. But the process of trying to interpret their new experiences through old frameworks creates a tension within the old frameworks, which is only resolved as people try to change the frameworks.

As Antonio Gramsci put it, `The active man of the masses works practically, but he does not have a clear, theoretical consciousness of his actions, which is also a knowledge of the world insofar as he changes it.' So there are `two sorts of consciousness', that `implicit in his actions', and that `superficially explicit, which he has inherited from the past and which he accepts without criticism':

“This `verbal' conception is not without consequences; it binds him to a certain social group, influences his moral behaviour and the direction of his will in a more or less powerful way, and it can reach the point where the contradiction of consciousness will not permit any action… [Therefore] the unity of theory and practice is not a given mechanical fact, but a historical process of becoming.” Àntîn³î Gràmsc³, “Àvr³àmåntî àllî Stud³î dållà F³lîsîf³à dål Màtår³àl³smî Stîr³cî” ³n Màtår³àl³smî Stîr³cî (Tur³n, 1948), trànslàtåd ³n Thå Mîdårn Pr³ncå, Lîndîn, 1957, pp. 66-67.

Thus the Chartists of the 1830s and 1840s attempted to come to terms with new experiences through older, radical democratic notions. But this created all sorts of contradictory ideological formulations. That was why some of the most popular orators and writers were people like Bronterre O'Brien, Julian Harvey and Ernest Jones who began to articulate people's experience in newer, more explicitly socialist ways.

Marxism itself was not a set of ideas that emerged fully formed out of the heads of Marx and Engels and then magically took a grip of the working class movement. The birth of the theory was dependent on a distillation by Marx and Engels of the experiences of the young workers' movement in the years prior to 1848. It has been accepted by workers since then, insofar as it has fitted in with what struggles were already beginning to teach them. But its acceptance has then fed back into the struggles to influence their outcome.

The theory does not simply reflect workers' experience under capitalism; it generalises some elements of that experience (those of struggling against capitalism) into a consciousness of the system as a whole. In doing so, it gives new insights into how to wage the struggle and a new determination to fight.

Theory develops on the basis of practice, but feeds back into practice to influence its effectiveness.

The point is important because theory is not always correct theory. There have historically been very important workers' struggles waged under the influence of incorrect theories:

Proudhonism and Blanquism in France in the second half of the 19th century; Lassallianism in Germany; Narodnism and even Russian Orthodoxism in Russia in the years before 1905;

Peronism in Argentina; Catholicism and nationalism in Poland; and, of course, the terrible twins, social democracy and Stalinism.

In all of these cases workers have gone into struggle influenced by `hybrid' views of the world - views which combine a certain immediate understanding of the needs of class struggle with a more general set of ideas accepting key elements of existing society. Such a false understanding of society in its totality leads to enormous blunders - blunders which again and again have led to massive defeats.

In the face of such confusion and such defeats, nothing is more dangerous than to say that ideas inevitably catch up with reality, that victory is certain. For this invariably leads to a downplaying of the importance of combining the practical and the ideological struggle.

The role of the party in history

The other side of the coin to the mechanical materialists' downgrading of the ideological struggle has been a tendency for certain socialist academics to treat the ideological struggle as something quite separate from practical conflicts. This is especially true of the reformists of the now defunct Marxism Today and of the Labour left.

But the struggle of ideas always grows out of struggle in the world of material practice, where ideas have their root, and always culminates in further such material struggles. It was the everyday activity of craftsmen and merchants under feudalism which gave rise to heretical, Protestant, religious formulations. And it was the all too real activity of armies which fought across the length and breadth of Europe which, at the end of the day, determined the success or failure of the new ideology.

The new idealists often claim their theoretical inspiration from Antonio Gramsci, but he was insistent on the connection between theoretical and practical struggle:

`When the problem of the relation of theory and practice arises, it does so in this sense: to construct on a determined practice a theory that, coinciding and being identified with the decisive elements of the same practice, accelerates the historical process in act, makes the practice more homogeneous, coherent and efficacious in all its elements, that is, giving it the maximum force; or else, given a certain theoretical problem, to organise the essential practical elements to put it into operation.' Màtår³àl³smî Stîr³cî, îp. c³t., p. 38.

If you want to challenge capitalism's ideological hold today, you cannot do so unless you relate to people whose everyday struggles lead them to begin to challenge certain of its tenets. And if you want to carry the challenge through to the end, you have to understand that the ideological struggle transforms itself into practical struggle.

The transformation of practice into theory and theory into practice does not take place of its own accord. “A human mass does not `distinguish' itself and does not become independent `by itself' without organising itself, and there is no organisation without intellectuals, that is, without organisers and leaders…” ³b³d., trànslàtåd ³n Thå Mîdårn Pr³ncå, îp. c³t., p. 67.

A rising class develops a clear set of ideas insofar as a polarisation takes place within it, and what is, at first, a minority of the class carrying the challenge to the old ideology through to its logical conclusion.

At a certain stage in the ideological and practical struggle that minority crystallises out as a separate `party' (whether it calls itself that or not). It is through the struggle of such parties that the development of the forces and relations of production find expression in new ideas, and that the new ideas are used to mobilise people to tear the old superstructure apart. In a famous passage in What is to be Done?, Lenin said that `political ideas' are brought to the working class from outside. If he meant that workers played no part in the elaboration of the revolutionary socialist world view he was wrong. Às hå h³msålf làtår àdm³ttåd. V.². Lån³n, Cîllåctåd Wîrks, Vîl. 6, p. 491. If he meant that practical experience did not open workers up to socialist ideas he was wrong. Nîtå h³s cîmmånt ³n 1905, `Thå wîrk³ng clàss ³s ³nst³nct³våly, spîntànåîusly, sîc³àl dåmîcràt³c…', quîtåd ³n Chr³s Hàrmàn, “Pàrty ànd Clàss” ³n Tîny Cl³ff åt. àl., Pàrty ànd Clàss, Bîîkmàrks, Lîndîn, 1996. But if he meant to stress that socialist ideas do not conquer the class without the separation off of a distinct socialist organisation, which is built through a long process of ideological and practical struggle, he was absolutely right.