The
political scientist Francis Fukuyama famously claimed after the fall
of the Communist governments in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe
that human history had, in essence, come to an end. He did not mean,
of course, that time had, in fact, frozen solid and that historians
would not be able to write about anything after 1991. Rather, his
argument was based on Hegel's idea that the history of humanity is a
progressive movement with a beginning, a middle and an end. The end
of history, Hegel said, is the point at which humanity reaches its
apex of consciousness and hence has in it's grasp the ideal form of
organising society.
For
Fukuyama, the defeat of Soviet-style socialism and the triumph of
Western liberal democracy inaugurated, essentially, a New Earth where
freedom would reign for eternity through representative democracy and
free-market capitalism. The flip-side of this assertion was, of
course, that Karl Marx was wrong: the stateless society of communism
where class conflict would be no more was a pipe dream, and we had no
option but to embrace this joyous new world of liberty –
a world of marking an 'X' on a piece of paper every four or five
years and endless shopping at Wal-Mart.
Many
have criticised Fukuyama's arguments, and this is not the place to
attempt a point-by-point rebuttal. But I think it is clear that we
haven't been living in a state of paradise since the end of the Cold
War more than two decades ago. People are still going hungry, and in
some cases die of starvation, even as others wine and dine at the
Ritz. People are still paid poorly and housed precariously, and in
some cases reduced to poverty and homelessness, even as others throw
cash around and sleep soundly in mansions. People are still unhappy
with their lives, and in some cases become depressed and despondent,
even as others seem to be living it up and partying like its 1999.
For
some, this sorry state of affairs is proof that liberal democracy is
a sham, and that free-market capitalism is a scam. Yet one
immediately hears shrill voices which say, “But what are we to do?
Haven't we tried doing things differently, through the state, and
failed?” “No,” others cry in response, “We're not talking
about Soviet 'communism', but the welfare state and the 'public
good'. Privatisation has led to inequality by allowing untrammeled
greed to flourish! Yes, state-centric solutions can be bureaucratic
and impersonal, but we don't have any other options.”
Most
debates today about how society should be structured revolve around
these two viewpoints. In one corner, wearing a pin-stripe suit, is
liberal capitalism. In the other corner, wearing a duffel coat, is
social democracy. Cheering and jeering from the crowd are more
extreme versions of these two fighters, including neo-conservatives
and fascists, as well as state socialists and communists. Should
anything drastic happen, these observers are ready (and waiting) to
join in the fray.
As a
result, a large majority of people today feel they have to choose a
side. It's either greater freedom or greater equality, either a
larger role for private initiatives or a larger role for the state,
either a system built on self-interest or a system built on
solidarity.
What
if this were a false choice? What if I told you that picking either
side would not change the underlying structure of our present-day
society?
Before
you start thinking that I'm about to go off on some sort of
conspiracy theory, let
us
slow things down a little. I'm not about to say these two sides are
like the Galactic Republic and the Separatists in the Star Wars
prequel trilogy –
that is, appearing to be diametrically opposed to each other but in
reality both being pawns in a game controlled by Darth
Sidious. I don't believe that there's some secretive cabal running
the world and playing us off each other like puppets on strings.
What
I would like to suggest, however, is the different political systems
that we see today in the world –
together with many of those that some would like
to see realised today in the world –
are not as radically different as they seem. To help us dig into this
proposition, the political thought of the contemporary theorist Kojin
Karatani is quite instructive.
According
to Karatani, the society we live in today is made up primarily of
three types of human interactions. Firstly, we engage in acts of
reciprocity
with those whom we feel we have something in common. This could be
because we have the same parents or because we have a shared interest
in real ale. The essence of reciprocity is that we are willing to
help each other because we consider ourselves part of a particular
'group'. Conversely, we're far less willing to help another who is
not part of this group. This dynamic is the basis of the nation,
which is an imagined community of people who identify with each other
because they have a similar culture, history and so on.
Secondly,
one segment of our society is engaged in acts of plunder
and redistribution.
On behalf of 'wider society', this segment collects resources –
especially from those who have most –
and redistributes them to those who have less. This is, of course,
embodied in the state,
which is an institution that claims to uphold the interests of the
public in its operations.
Thirdly,
almost all of us take part on a daily basis in forms of commodity
exchange.
This includes obvious things like shopping for groceries, but also
things such as paid work, because what is being exchanged is the
labour of one party for the money of the other. Such is the lifeblood
of capital,
which is the form of commodity exchange that, although based on the
exploitation of most ordinary folk by those who own and run the
businesses, claims to be founded on free exchange between equal
actors.
When
we take all these three forms of human interaction together, we get
what Karatani calls the unholy trinity of Capital-Nation-State.
All three are mutually supportive, and so when one of them is called
into question –
for example, by a social movement –
the other two can move in to re-balance the system. Although there
are moments where the respective forces of capital, nation and state
clearly clash, at the end of the day the continued existence of each
one is bound up with the others.
Hence,
returning to the scene of the prize-fight between the Right and Left
of mainstream politics, we can see how the triumph of either one only
reconfigures the interconnected relationships between capital, nation
and state, but does not actually challenge the basic structure of the
trinity. Under the welfare state, the influence of capital is
diminished, yet it continues to play an important role in the
functioning of the system even as the power of the state increases. A
turn towards a liberal free-market has exactly the opposite effect in
that it weakens the state but strengthens capital. And when resources
are scarce and the economy looks grim, the inward-looking and often
violent rhetoric of the nation comes to the forefront of politics
(think of Golden Dawn in Greece).
Faced
with this vertigo of the three elements of the trinity dancing around
us, it can seem difficult to imagine what can be done to bring about
a different world. Karatani, drawing loosely from the 19th century
anarchist Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, suggests that the way out is indeed
to exit
and transcend
this system by means of a fourth type of human interaction, which he
calls association.
Association
involves elements of the other three forms, but goes beyond them. It
incorporates the mutual aid of reciprocity, but without demanding
conformity. It aims for egalitarianism, but does not coerce like the
state. And it sees some good in the idea of freedom of exchange under
capital, but it refuses exploitation through wage labour and usury.
What
is it, then? Well, it is not a blueprint meticulously designed, nor
an utopia erected in the mind, but rather the labourious and
non-violent task of building alternatives to Capital-Nation-State
through anti-capitalist, anti-nationalist and anti-statist forms of
exchange, living together and co-operation. It is not found in sexy,
youthful politics that builds barricades nor in idealistic reformers
who run for public office. Rather, it takes shape in projects such as
worker-owned co-operatives, Local Exchange Trading Systems, time
banks, local demurrage currencies, social centres and free
universities. In other words, it is –
to steal some words from Marx –
“the real movement which abolishes the present state of things.”
If
the ongoing climate and economic crises continue to worsen, we may
find the need for alternatives to Capital-Nation-State more urgent
and crucial than ever. Nevertheless, regardless of what exactly comes
to be, it will certainly not herald the end of history, at least not
in the Hegelian sense.
Soo
Tian Lee
