Escaping the Dance of the End of History

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

To Have One's Cake or to Eat It

The Paradoxes of Social Democracy, Neoliberalism and other Systems of Government

I recently had the opportunity of accompanying a house-mate to the hospital where he is being treated for a fairly serious ailment (which he is thankfully recovering well from). I found myself in a consulting room with him and the kindest, most helpful nurse I've ever met. Sitting there, I felt my suspicion of the state and public services drain away even as I thought, “Isn't it wonderful that the NHS exists to take care of all, regardless of means?” A few moments later, however, this illusion of an idyllic welfare state dissipated as my memory catapulted me back to the experience of being in the Accident and Emergency unit of another hospital with the same house-mate, where he was treated horribly by a rude, unsympathetic and completely unhelpful doctor.

As I am writing this, a couple of hundred students are dashing around the streets and sidewalks of Bloomsbury, pursued by 11 riot vans-worth of police officers, including some from the infamous Territorial Support Group (TSG). These students have committed the collective crime of gathering outside Senate House, the headquarters of the University of London to protest against the increasing use of force by the police – in some cases instigated by university authorities – to quell student dissent on campus. In one case, a student was arrested for challenging a stop-and-search being imposed on a fellow student of black ethnicity – one of the countless cases of racial profiling that occur all throughout the country. In another case, the President of the University of London (Student) Union was apprehended for ostensibly failing to comply with laws regarding public processions after an initially static demonstration by students turned into a march. Most shocking, however, were the events of last night at Senate House itself, where the police smashed an occupation by students of the Vice-Chancellor's office and the main management corridor to raise issues such as discriminatory policies in the terms and conditions of outsourced cleaners and the planned privatisation of student accommodation. This ruthless crackdown appears to have been performed despite there being no injunction or warrants issued. Students who had gathered outside to support the occupiers were also subjected to punches, truncheons and other acts of 'responsible policing' by the Met.

At first glance, these two stories may seem quite unconnected. What does a benevolent arm of the welfare state like the National Health Service have to do with heavy-handed policing? In reality, however, they are intimately bound to each other. The wonderful public services and national insurance that operate under the ideals of social democracy cannot exist without the other side of the coin, namely the force of the state. The Japanese philosopher Kojin Karatani describes the state as operating under a 'mode of exchange' which he calls plunder-redistribution. In the same way that medieval princes protected the cities and regions in the sphere of their influence with their standing armies in return for taxes and tribute, so does the modern capitalist state provide welfare and protection to its obedient, tax-paying citizens.

Hence, one cannot enjoy state-backed public services and reject the brutal force of the police and army which are the state's boots on the ground. To do so would be akin to the proverbial desire of wanting to have one's cake and eat it too. Some might say that in a properly functioning liberal democracy, the police and army are governed by just laws and systems of scrutiny. This is, however, to ignore the fact pointed out years ago by Max Weber, who characterised the state as that which has the monopoly over the use of force. This force normally operates as rather subtly veiled threat – do not all laws essentially carry the message, “Do (or don't do) this, or else”? Nevertheless, in any situation in which the authority of the state is seriously questioned, there can be no doubt that the threat will be made real, as we have indeed witnessed time and time again.

There is more, however, to the welfare state than simply the paradox of the state giving healthcare and benefits with one hand and taking away freedom and liberty with the other. To explore this, let's consider the position of many 'reasonable', 'pragmatic' and 'moderate' people who often argue that public order is necessary for the flourishing of humankind. There are two flaws to this rather appealing argument. First of all, the only sort of flourishing which is permitted under the political and economic system of today is a capitalistic one. The might of the state is, in essence, the guarantor of an economic system in which the accumulation of capital is the central principle – indeed, almost always the only one. Secondly, wherever one goes throughout the world, the police and army do not work for all humankind, but rather the illusory idea of the nation to which they have pledged their allegiance.

This way of organising life on earth is based on what Karatani calls the 'unholy trinity' of Capital-Nation-State. All these three elements are intimately linked in various ways. For example, capitalist enterprise is made possible by the state guaranteeing the enforcement of contracts and the maintenance of markets under the profit principle. Also, the ideology of the nation, an imagined community of people who share a common 'culture' and goals in life, legitimates the might of the state, in which the sovereignty of the people is deemed to rest as a result of marking an 'X' on a piece of paper every four or five years. The redistributive powers of the state help soften the unjust effects of capitalist wealth-creation – in other words, Peter having been robbed by Paul is thrown a little bag of coins, taxed from Paul's substantial income. And so on. Each time one of these three elements appears to be challenged, the other two are ready to rebalance the system. To cite just a few examples: social democratic governments temper the enthusiasm of capital but give the state increasing power; Thatcherism weakened the state in certain respects but strengthened the power of capital; and under fascism the discourse of nation takes over. But at the end of the day, the Trinity lives on.

Some may cry, “But what can be done? You've cut us off from all the usual solutions, such as reducing the size of government to empower private enterprise, or regulating the excesses of laissez-faire capitalism with state authority!”

It is not my intention to provide a completely worked-out blueprint, or a detailed step-by-step guide for us to reach a Promised Land. Nevertheless, I believe that we can work towards better forms of living together. To cite Karatani once again, what we need, in Kantian terms, is a regulative idea and not a constitutive idea. The latter, like 20th century Really Existing Socialism, believes that we can build the New Jerusalem by imposing a clear plan. The former, on the other hand, acts as a horizon that we journey towards. What is this horizon? It is one in which mutual aid, co-operation and self-organisation are watchwords. It is one in which the exploitation of capital, the coercion of the state, and the inward-looking myths of nation are discarded in favour of commonality even in the midst of diversity, free association, and a recognition that there is only one world in which we all share. These ideals may never be realised 'in full', but they are already present today in the many radical projects, initiatives and shared lives throughout the world, such as worker-owned co-operatives, Local Exchange Trading Systems, time banks, social centres and free universities.

The task is thus, to quote the Constitution of the Industrial Workers of the World, to 'build the new society in the shell of the old'. This will not be easy, and will have to be done alongside forms of resistance to and confrontation with the forces of Capital-Nation-State, but given the ongoing ecological and economic crises, the choice is indeed, as some have said, to 'co-operate or die'. As the narrator in the film HOME says, “It is too late to be a pessimist.” So let's hold on to, and venture forward with, the 'Will to Believe' (William James).

Soo Tian Lee