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Plymouth University
Social Theory Group—Discussion 3
We looked at two readings from Weber, Politics as a Vocation…, and chapter two of The
Protestant
Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. Both
of these are written in the classical
academic style, with mercifully few references and footnotes, but with
lots of
allusions, to classical history, for example, and liberally spattered
with
Greek and Latin (and occasionally other European languages too).
Politics…
is quite a long piece, and all participants
had difficulty in getting through it. In
my view, it came to life at the end, with some critical comments about
politics
in Germany immediately after World War I, when a number of German
cities were
occupied by communist and socialist groups, and the fascist reaction
was
already becoming apparent. Here, Weber
rebukes in particular those who see politics as a matter of having a
personal burning
vision of the future, especially if they are prepared to justify any
means in
the pursuit of this end. Those who choose politics
as a vocation must realize what they are doing. It is not just applying
some ethical theory.althoug all the major religiouys and ethical
systems have tried to provide some sort of account that connects
politics and ethics. Weber reminds us right at the start that the State
is an insitution that monopolises violence -- politics is about force
and violence, at some stage at least.
The real
problem is that the revolutionaries of left and right are hoping to
sidestep the reality of actual
politics, the
long arduous business of building support, organizing various political
institutions, and engaging in daily struggles with the forces of
conservatism (or stability) such
as the professional civil service. This
reality cannot be sidestepped, however, and very often violence and
repression
ensues as revolutionary visionaries get disappointed and start to blame
sectors
of the population. Eventually, revolutionary spasms subside. Weber is well aware that organising
conventional politics will dilute the revolutionary vision, however. This is bad news for radicals, of course,
echoed in some later remarks about bureaucracy and its permanence—even
revolutionary movements need a bureaucracy to come to power and then
maintain
it.
We discussed one interesting
possibility by trying out
Weberian analysis to explain the apparent recent impotence of
postmodern cultural
politics. My own view would be that,
such politics could also be analysed in the same way as revolutionary
socialism
(I am not saying that this is my personal view!). Postmodernists
focused
hard on developing
their philosophical vision, but neglected concrete politics, failed to
engage
with the business of persuading people, lobbying, taking on and dealing
with
opponents—and thus ended as a fashionable intellectual movement only, confined to universities. Hence
the
old jibe about cultural politics
ending with a mere politics of culture. I had in mind the devastating
critique
by Fraser of the Derrridavian Centre for deconstructing politics
founded in
Paris. There, intellectuals spent their
time discussing what was meant by ‘the political’ and whether or not
Derridavian deconstruction was political in
any
particular sense. Meanwhile, their
political opponents
organised an internal coup and took over the Centre.
Fraser argues that intellectual politics is
incapable of dealing with actual politics, and that the Derridavians
preferred
philosophy to a good old fashioned political conflict.
Anyway, with the ending of Weber’s
piece in mind, it might
be possible to find some particular relevance in the lengthy analysis
of
politics that precedes that particular commentary.
The way I read it is to see it as an example
of Weber’s insistence on complexity, on unintended consequences and
emergence,
and on ironic outcomes as chronic to historical development.
What the analysis actually offers is a
complex account of
the development of various political systems in France, Germany,
England and
the USA. It is possible to isolate a
number of factors in these developments—various social classes
(rendered rather
as occupational groups not classic Marxist classes, although there are
occasional references to dominant groups and powerful elites);
religious
groups, including organized churches; and professional politicians who
include
civil servants and administrators as well as journalists.
In western democracies, various local
organisations dealing with voters and the way they are organised are
also
important.
These groups interact in particular
ways, forming alliances
with each other in order to oppose and manage their opponents, and then
reforming alliances but with those opponents if necessary (there’s a
similarity
here with the work of Elias on figurations). There
is
no central tendency towards class
domination in the Marxist sense, as in the 18th
Brumaire. Various complex outcomes
are possible. To give just one example,
Weber
compares the struggle between the politicians and the professional
civil
servants and how this is resolved in England and Germany.
In England, elected politicians are also
expected to undertake administrative tasks, to learn how to manage
budgets and
so on. This gives them some inside
knowledge with which to stave off the influence of the civil service
bureaucrats. By contrast, Germany (in
the Weimar period) had political parties which considered themselves to
be much
more purist, organised more around political principles.
Well and good, except that they were
particularly vulnerable to the influence of their civil service
bureaucrats. To take another quick
example, England, when it developed an extension of the franchise,
enrolled the
assistance of the Church in organising and regulating local
organisations of
voters. America was far too anti-clerical
to develop that system, so it developed local party bosses and party
machines,
which delivered votes, although at the expense of corruption, as in
Tammany Hall
politics. There are several occasions
when charismatic leaders arise to shake up the established political
system,
and they get dealt with in various ways. While we are here, Weber is
rather
cynical about proportional representation, which he sees as giving
undue
influence to professional politicians to cobble together coalitions,
removing
the direct influence of the electorate!
The Protestant Ethic... is much better known, but it was a good idea
to return to this specific chapter. People
noticed the interesting methodological
procedures at the start of
the chapter where Weber announces that he is constructing a conceptual
model of
the spirit of capitalism. Discussion
turned on whether this was genuine constructivism, or merely a
seduction
technique, well-known in academic circles, to introduce an analysis
that was
already well developed. In this chapter,
Weber illustrates what he means with extensive quotations from the work
of
Benjamin Franklin, who invented all those mottoes about how time is
money, we
should not waste a single hour, that lying in bed meant we had lost the
chance
to earn more money and thus improve our lives, and so on.
This, he says, shows how hard work to earn
money became a religious calling, based particularly clearly in
Franklin’s case
on his Calvinist upbringing.
It is this idea of work as a religious
calling, as a duty, that is the hallmark
of modern
capitalism. Weber tells us that
proto-capitalist
enterprises in various forms were widespread in the past, but they were
driven
by motives such as greed, the love of gold. Modern
capitalism is religious. The actual book
goes on to demonstrate this by
citing comparative
examples of different cantons in Switzerland, and different European
countries,
some protestant some catholic, and suggesting that there is a
correlation between
dominant religion and capitalist development (heavily criticised since).
This is a familiar argument, and again
is often taken to
indicate Weber’s insistence on unpredictability and ironic outcomes. No protestant sect ever intended to develop
capitalism. Indeed, Weber tells us in
later chapters, Calvin and Knox specifically preached that any sort of
activity
in this world was futile—God had already chosen the Elect, our fate was
predetermined, and nothing we could do in this world could affect it. To gloss the argument here, Weber goes on to
argue that nevertheless protestants still held some personal hope that
virtuous
conduct just might be seen as some clue that the actor was among the
Chosen. In any event, chosen or not,
protestants could not spend their lives in idleness and indulgence. They had to work hard, apply a personal ethic
to everything they did, save and invest, and not indulge themselves
with idle
consumerist luxuries. It just so happens
that this is the perfect kind of personality and character set to
develop early
capitalism, and it is not surprising that puritans played a major part
in the
emergence of banking systems (the Barclays were Quakers), and early
manufacturing (Cadbury, Rowntree).
This ‘primitive accumulation’
explanation for the rise of
capitalism is particularly ridiculed by Marx in Capital. Here, Weber is continuing
the famed ‘dialogue with the ghost of K Marx’ deliberately reminding us
of a
crucial role played by the so-called superstructures, especially
religion. The material conditions for the
emergence of
capitalism existed long ago, he argues, but it needed a particular
strong personal
commitment to break the force of tradition. That
tradition is still around, and can be seen in
the behaviour of ‘traditional’
people (Weber includes women!) on first
encountering capitalism—workers who work just long enough to earn a
daily wage,
rather than attempting to maximise their wages, for example.
Right at the end of this chapter,
Weber throws in a
reference to the idea that history can be seen as the steady,
inevitable growth
of rationalisation. This is often seen
as Weber’s own position, although he attributes it to Sombart. His own position can be seen as suggesting
that there are no general historical trends or social roles again but
only
contingency and unintended consequences, even when discussing
rationalisation. Weber says that the
role played by Protestantism indicates that irrational impulses
are also
decisive in particular circumstances.
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