To Be Decided

A Theory of Revolution

Mon, 22 Apr 2024 14:47:34 +1000

% A Theory of Revolution.

My apologies for the length. I cut out an entire thousand words at the end that dealt with the intersection of the capitalist state and the economy.

Introduction. #

The topic of this contribution is the capitalist state, and its eventual abolition. This book aims to offer up a provocative theory of the capitalist state, and a similarly provocative theory of communist revolution. My own intellectual development has been particularly perplexed by the distinctions that Marxists and anarchists use to divide and distinguish themselves.

I have never quite subscribed to the insistence that many Marxists have placed on the necessity of the construction of a worker’s state, and, similarly, I have never quite understood the prescription most anarchists raise about the necessity for the total abolition of authority.

The creation of these two theories–one of the bourgeois state, and the other, a theory of communist revolution–is as much an intellectual exercise as it is a project to raise interesting and pointed questions for others.

A Voluntarist Theory of Communist Revolution. #

The first part of this contribution adopts an instrumentalist account of the bourgeois state. Following Ralph Miliband in his book The State in Capitalist Society,¹ I will conclude that a complex structural analysis of the bourgeois state does not have to be produced in order to understand its modern workings.

In much the same way that the famous cartoon caricature, the Pyramid of the Capitalist System, puts across the message that the working class are being crushed by capitalism’s hierarchy of power and wealth, I argue that a complex formulation of the structure of the modern capitalist state is not needed in order to understand how it might be abolished.

It is enough to know that the social origins, and the personal ties, as well as the influence that social elites have over each other in capitalist societies is the main cause of the oppression dealt out by the capitalist state.

From this argument, we easily pass into a voluntarist theory of communist revolution. Personally, I would do so by performing a reading of Georg Lukacs’s famous text Reification and the Consciousness of the Proletariat.² This text is famous for deducing the humanist philosophical import of the Marxist dialectic.

Lukacs’s deduction of Marx’s humanism in Das Kapital: Volume One was proven to be correct upon the discovery and publication of the early Marx’s 1844 Manuscripts. In the third section of Reification and the Consciousness of the Proletariat, titled The Standpoint of the Proletariat, Lukacs argues that when the working class is able to collectively grasp its true nature in its political consciousness, it will be able to usher in the abolition of capitalism, and bring on the next phase of human history.

Lukacs’s ontology is complex, but his general argument is as follows: every class under capitalism has a position with respect to the control of the means of production. Regardless of the empirical consciousness of the multitude of individuals of which a class is composed in capitalism, every class has an imputed class perspective on the world.

Only the working class, when it is able to grasp the essence of its imputed class consciousness, will be able to see the mode of production of capitalism for what it really is, and therefore become an unstoppable revolutionary force, and abolish capitalism.

Where Lukacs’s writings are normally taken to be anti-naturalist in import, I mean to replace this concept of ‘imputed class consciousness’ with a naturalist, Aristotelian concept of virtue. I will argue that it is in the essence of human nature to want to discover the truth behind capitalism.

Once this knowledge has been obtained, one cannot help but want to abolish the present mode of production. The actual essential nature of the political consciousness of the working class aside, I say that it is not just the ideas that the working class have about themselves, but it is in the very objective nature of the working class that once it understands its position in the hierarchy of the capitalist system, it will necessarily be compelled to abolish capitalism. States and Classes: Both Natural.

I have previously shown how the working class should be taken to possess an objective, essential social nature. I did this by offering up a naturalist theory of the capitalist state. I will be arguing that, against what passes for popular wisdom, the bourgeois state is not a social institution of human artificial creation. It is in fact, I will say, an institution that follows from the natural evolution of human civilisation.

This will, perhaps, strike many as an odd and indeed reprehensible theory to put forward, considering the disgusting oppression that the bourgeois state perpetuates against the great mass of labouring people of the world. How could something so poisonous for the human spirit be a natural part of the development of human civilisation? Would this not mean that it is a necessary part of the life we have to live?

I think such objections could only stem from a lack of opportunity to have looked into the matter. I take the capitalist state to be a natural part of human civilisation, but, like a deadly infection that damages, and must be removed from an otherwise healthy individual human body, the capitalist state is real, but is an alienated, reified, or “false” form of human social organisation.

If the capitalist state is natural, and therefore ‘real’ and historically necessary, but, crucially, false; the working class is the similarly natural product of the capitalist state. It is for this reason we should consider ourselves entitled to say that the working class would take no other course of action to abolish capitalism once it had gained the self-knowledge of its place within capitalism.

‘The Classics’: Marx, Engels, and Lenin. #

It is true that Marx and Engels never produced an analysis of the capitalist state in a single piece of work. I argue in this contribution that despite this, Marx and Engels did produce a definitive analysis of the capitalist state. This theory of the capitalist state can be pieced together from the works of Marxism, and of Lenin.

In this contribution I will demonstrate my conception of Marx and Engels’s theory of the capitalist state as it appears in their original work.

A Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right #

Marx and Engels deal explicitly with the nature of the capitalist state throughout their lives from the 1840s to the 1880s. The first piece of work in which Marx deals with the capitalist state is the Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Right’. The work is mainly concerned with discussing and critiquing Hegel’s dialectical method, but the content of the work touches explicitly on how best to characterise the modern capitalist state, and exactly what method to employ instead of Hegel’s Idealist method.

Marx’s first move in the piece is to show how Hegel’s Philosophy of Right terminates in an apology for the authoritarian Prussian state. Marx argues that Idealist logical method directly causes this conclusion of Hegel’s political philosophy:

But if on the contrary family, civil society, the state, etc., are attributes of the idea, of substance as subject, they must be given an empirical actuality, and that body of people among whom the idea of civil society unfolds are members of a civil society, that other body of people [among whom the idea of the state unfolds] being state citizens. Since all we have here, really, is allegory, for the sole purpose of conferring on some empirical existent or other the significance of being the actualised idea, it is clear that these vessels have fulfilled their function as soon as they have become specific embodiments of elements in the life of the idea. The general, therefore, appears everywhere as something specific, particular; and individuality, correspondingly, nowhere attains to its true generality.

It therefore necessarily seems that the most profound, most speculative level has been reached when the most abstract attributes, the natural bases of the state such as birth (in the case of the monarch) or private property (in primogeniture), which have not yet developed at all into genuine social actualisation, appear as the highest ideas directly personified.

And it is self-evident. The correct method is stood on its head. The simplest thing becomes the most complicated, and the most complicated the simplest. What ought to be the starting point becomes a mystical outcome, and what ought to be the rational outcome becomes a mystical starting point.³

So Marx argues that Hegel’s speculative Idealist method just ‘confers’ the being of Hegel’s actualised idea on some empirical content. Hegel merely searches the world and consecrates some specific historical circumstances with ‘holiness’ in a completely eclectic manner. They are like ‘vessels’ to hold the self-incarnation of the Hegelian pantheistic God, in order to allow heaven to exist on earth. As Marx remarks, this is completely backwards. One is not supposed to devise a logical system and then search for its embodiment on earth. One is supposed to start with the concrete first, the actual objective historical conditions, and then work through their immanent logical and historical contradictions, in order to understand their tendencies.

Hegel argues that prior to the creation of the ideal nation state, citizens are logically and historically assembled into a society of extreme egoism, where everyone’s individual interests are in competition with each other. In this ‘state of nature’, people are in a war of each against all, and he agrees with Thomas Hobbes that the fundamental conflict between individuals in this logical state risks making life, as Hobbes says, ‘nasty, brutish, and short’. This ‘state of nature’ Hegel calls ‘civil society’. Marx agrees with Hegel on this point. Marx also agrees with Hegel that in its embryonic or undeveloped stages, an imperfect nation state risks being an illegitimate and oppressive social force against the people in ‘civil society’.

Marx’s second move in the Critique is to show that Hegel’s specific instructions about how to guarantee a harmonious political community in accordance with the Absolute Idea terminate in failure. Hegel argues in the Philosophy of Right for a specific state structure, involving a monarchy, a legislative assembly, and a state executive. The idea behind this is that each of these three state organs are able to embody different phases of Hegel’s logical system developed in the Science of Logic. When a nation state is organised in the way the Absolute Idea is also structured, then perfect political harmony is achieved, and there is supposedly no more Hobbesian war of each against all.

Key in the story that Hegel tells is that the election of a national legislative assembly, and the creation of a neutral and universal bureaucracy. These two state organs are the critical social institutions that Hegel argues are able to overcome the egoism in civil society.

Although Marx agrees with Hegel about the differentiation of a modern society into an unstable and potentially oppressive balance between civil society and the state, Marx disagrees that this separation is immanent in modern society. He also disagrees that the state can, as Hegel argues, transcend the state of nature individuals find themselves in in civil society, and that the state can guarantee the common interest of all citizens. Marx argues at length how Hegel’s two favourite social institutions, the legislature and the state bureaucracy, cannot achieve this transcendence.⁴

Marx writes:

The true point of departure, self-knowing and self-willing mind, without which the “purpose of the state" and the “state authorities” would be untenable fantasies, unreal, even impossible phenomena, this true starting point makes its appearance only as the last predicate of substantiality, which has already been described as the general purpose and as the various state authorities. Had actual mind been made the starting point, the “general purpose” would have been its content, the various authorities its mode of self-realisation—its real or material existence, whose specific character could have been explained from the very nature of its purpose. Because, however, the “idea” or “substance” as subject, as actual essence, is made the starting point, the real subject appears only as the last predicate of the abstract predicate. The “purpose of the state” and the “state authorities” are mystified since they are presented as “modes of existence” of “substance” and cut off from their real mode of existence, from “mind knowing and willing itself, educated mind”.

… The concrete content, the actual definition, appears as something formal; the wholly abstract formal definition appears as the concrete content. The essence of the definitions of the state is not that they are definitions of the state, but that in their most abstract form they can be regarded as logical-metaphysical definitions. Not the philosophy of law but logic is the real centre of interest. Philosophical work does not consist in embodying thinking in political definitions, but in evaporating the existing political definitions into abstract thoughts. Not the logic of the matter, but the matter of logic is the philosophical element. The logic does not serve to prove the state, but the state to prove the logic.⁵

What Marx is saying here is that the modern nation state does not become fully differentiated into the different state institutional organs because of the power of Hegel’s logical system. Hegel may have produced a powerful logical analysis of the structure of experience and reality in the Science of Logic, but Hegel has misapplied his philosophy in the Philosophy of Right. Marx argues that it is the other way around—it is definite concrete historical circumstances which determine the development of the state into its particular institutions. Fundamentally, Marx argues—rightly—that it is private property, and the sphere of civil society which determines exactly how a state is constituted.⁶

It is Hegel’s Idealist dialectical logic which leads him to conclude that the bureaucracy and the legislature in a modern state are a ‘universal classes’ who embody the ‘universal interests’ of civil society in modernity. Marx smashes this conception by showing that this solution from Hegel is entirely eclectic. Hegel brings in the concept of a ‘universal interest’ in modern society from the outside. Marx shows that any conception of a ‘universal interest’ in modern capitalist society is completely abstract, and is not a component of social reality at all:

Within the bureaucracy itself, however, spiritualism becomes crass materialism, the materialism of passive obedience, of faith in authority, of the mechanism of fixed and formalistic behaviour, and of fixed principles, views and traditions. In the case of the individual bureaucrat, the state objective turns into his private objective, into a chasing after higher posts, the making of a career. In the first place, he looks on actual life as something material, for the spirit of this life has its distinctly separate existence in the bureaucracy. The bureaucracy must therefore proceed to make life as material as possible. Secondly, actual life is material for the bureaucrat himself, i.e., so far as it becomes an object of bureaucratic manipulation; for his spirit is prescribed for him, his aim lies beyond him, and his existence is the existence of the department. The state only continues to exist as various fixed bureaucratic minds, bound together in subordination and passive obedience. Actual knowledge seems devoid of content, just as actual life seems dead; for this imaginary knowledge and this imaginary life are taken for the real thing.⁷

The bureaucracy is in absolutely no way a universal class able to interpret and execute decisions which promote the ‘universal interest’ of civil society. Instead, the state emerges from the crass materialism of civil society. The state is not Spirit settling down from heaven into earth—the bureaucracy is just one sectional material interest competing with all the other forces in civil society. Marx argues—again, correctly—that the Prussian bureaucracy only appears to be the guarantor of the universal interest because the different competing political forces in Prussia sometimes use the bureaucracy to guarantee their interests against other groups.

Therefore the Prussian state actually perpetuates the war of each against all, because the Prussian bureaucracy is in a constant state of appropriating state power for itself in order to guarantee its continued existence. The protection of private property is the fundamental material explanation for all of this, Marx says. It is the driving force of the ‘state of nature’ in Prussia. Marx concludes that the citizens of modern nation states therefore live ‘estranged’ and alienated public lives because their formal legal equality in the capitalist state is necessarily abstract, and in short, a lie.⁸

On the Jewish Question #

The argument that Marx develops in the Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Right’ is continued in in the other essay he developed in 1843. In this piece, Marx appears to attack Bruno Bauer on the question of the emancipation of Jewish people in Germany. The piece may seem to deal exclusively with the question of Jewish people, Marx actually deals with the broader theme of the nature of religious and political emancipation under capitalism. Marx argues that it is true that the modern capitalist state abolished the political effects and significance of inequalities (like religious inequalities, class differences, and social rank):

Nevertheless the political annulment of private property not only fails to abolish private property but even presupposes it. The state abolishes, in its own way, distinctions of birth, social rank, education, occupation, when it declares that birth, social rank, education occupation, are non-political distinctions, when it proclaims, without regard to these distinctions, that every member of the nation is an equal participant in national sovereignty, when it treats all elements of the real life of the nation from the standpoint of the state.⁹

But, despite this, all of these inequalities still exist and completely run rampant in the sphere of civil society. While the capitalist state may be able to guarantee formal equality, it does not remedy the substantive inequalities in civil society:

None of the so-called rights of man, therefore, go beyond egoistic man, beyond man as a member of civil society, that is, an individual withdrawn into himself, into the confines of his private interests and private caprice, and separated from the community. In the rights of man, he is far from being conceived as a species-being; on the contrary, species-life itself, society, appears as a framework external to the individuals, as a restriction of their original independence. The sole bond holding them together is natural necessity, need and private interest, the preservation of their property and their egoistic selves.¹⁰

Marx argues that the alienation that is intrinsic to the nature of societies with capitalist states is due to the historical nature of the bourgeois political revolution. Before the revolution of the bourgeois class and their conquest of power, society did not separate the political citizen into their pure, equal public lives, and their egoistic, unequal private lives:

The political revolution thereby abolished the political character of civil society. It broke up civil society into its simple component parts; on the one hand, the individuals; on the other hand, the material and spiritual elements constituting the content of the life and social position of these individuals. It set free the political spirit, which had been, as it were, split up, partitioned and dispersed in the various blind alleys of feudal society. It gathered the dispersed parts of the political spirit, freed it from its intermixture with civil life, and established it as the sphere of the community, the general concern of the nation, ideally independent of those particular elements of civil life. A person’s distinct activity and distinct situation in life were reduced to a merely individual significance. They no longer constituted the general relation of the individual to the state as a whole. Public affairs as such, on the other hand, became the general affair of each individual, and the political function became the individual’s general function.¹¹

Furthermore, this separation of the citizen of capitalist society is completely undialectical. The relationship between the opposing components of the citizen under capitalism is fully antinomial. The private and public lives of people under capitalism are completely contradictory, and stand in a destructive relation towards one another. Marx puts this in Spinozist language in the following passage. He equates the ‘real’ citizen as the egoistic and private person, and the ‘true’ citizen as the public, equal, and morally virtuous person:

The political revolution resolves civil life into its component parts, without revolutionising these components themselves or subjecting them to criticism. It regards civil society, the world of needs, labour, private interests, civil law, as the basis of its existence, as a precondition not requiring further substantiation and therefore as its natural basis. Finally, man as a member of civil society is held to be man in the proper sense, homme as distinct from the citoyen, because he is man in his sensuous, individual, immediate existence, whereas political man is only abstract, artificial man, man as an allegorical, juridical person. The real man is recognised only in the shape of the egoistic individual, the true man is recognised only in the shape of the abstract citoyen.¹²

People’s lives are therefore in radical and undialectical contradiction—the result is that people feel completely alienated. The upshot of making this distinction is that the existence of the citizen under capitalism (the egoistic individual in civil society) does not express their essence (the individual as a state citizen). The individual under capitalism is therefore not ‘free’ in the Spinozan sense, but ‘compelled’ or ‘necessary’:

Definition 7: That thing is called free which exists from the necessity of its own nature alone, and is determined to action by itself alone. That thing, on the other hand, is called necessary, or rather compelled, which by another is determined to existence and action in a fixed and prescribed manner.¹³

Posing the problem in Spinozist terms presents the solution to the alienation of the individual under the capitalist state: the citizen must become ‘free’—their essence as virtuous moral beings must become expressed in their existence. The individual under capitalism must come to exist by the necessity of their ‘nature’ alone. Marx puts this in colourful lanuage: the being under civil society, as egoistic individuals in civil society, must absorb their abstract nature as moral citizens of the state into themselves:

Only when the real, individual man re-absorbs in himself the abstract citizen, and as an individual human being has become a species-being in his everyday life, in his particular work, and in his particular situation, only when man has recognised and organised his “forces propres”* as social forces, and consequently no longer separates social power from himself in the shape of political power, only then will human emancipation have been accomplished.¹⁴

References #

Ralph Miliband (1969). The State in Capitalist Society. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. ↩︎
Georg Lukacs (1971). History and Class Consciousness. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 40. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 20-149. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 17-18. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 31-32. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 47. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 3, 46. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘On The Jewish Question’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 146, 153. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘On The Jewish Question’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 146, 164. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘On The Jewish Question’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers, 1975) 146, 166. ↩︎
Karl Marx, ‘On The Jewish Question’ in Marx & Engels Collected Works (Progress Publishers,1975) 146, 167. ↩︎
Benedict Spinoza, ‘First Part: Of God’ in Ethics (Wordsworth, 2001) 3, 3. ↩︎
Ibid 12. ↩︎

Who Thinks Abstractly?

Tue, 11 Jul 2023 00:00:00 +0000

Introduction. #

I have been on another journey lately. I have always balked at the philosophical traditions of Empiricism, and, its later cousin, Positivism.

It dawned on me, however, that the standard story that one is taught about Positivism by my greatest intellectual influence, Western Marxism, is more complicated than many are willing to admit.

It seems to me that one can just as easily be a Rationalist as a Materialist, as easily an Empiricist as, also, an Idealist. The way the philosophical divisions are usually drawn (according to the Young Lukacs, as well as by Sarte and the Frankfurt School) are that Rationalism begets Idealism, Empiricism begets Materialism.

This pattern of thought seemed to dislodge my previous philosophical worldview.

My PhD thesis was, in the end, an exercise in blending Idealism with Naturalism. I approved of both the ideas of Naturalism and Idealism. What made up the universe was to be consistent with the natural sciences, as well as informed and inspired by them. But, fundamentally, I argued that any attempt to reduce, eliminate, or make ‘supervene’ philosophical thought on top of the natural sciences was an activity of extreme unhappiness.

It seems to me that the fabric of the universe does accommodate objects and processes that allow humans to be right about moral judgements. If that makes me an Idealist, I admit it. It is true.

The lesson I received from my education is that Idealism of any form is to be abhorred and hurriedly disavowed. But is not, as Hegel says, every philosophy an Idealism? Take Deterministic Materialism–the Natural Scientist pictures in her mind the particles of the world like the mechanical elements of a clock. If only her capacity for prediction of the world’s mechanical iterms were more powerful! If she was successful in reproducing Hari Seldon’s imaginary Psycho-History, wouldn’t that make her God?

Impressions. #

I have had impressed onto me many times to sit at the feet of Locke, or Hume, and not protest. To me anyway the Lockeans have a more favourable impression. I think it sensible to say there are Primary and Secondary Qualities.

Interestingly my flag has never ever been tied to Descartes. It seems many of those interested in philosophy in Perth have. Perhaps this is indeed my Empirical Streak–having been forced through the British Empiricists over and over again, I know of nothing else.

Humdrum Hume. Over and over again. It was as if anything I wanted to say was mere daydreaming, to be promptly and ignorantly stamped out.

Bishop Berkeley. #

I spent some time meandering back through Bishop Berkeley again. To be honest, he seemed to me to be the most sensible of all of the Idealists. Why shouldn’t there be some active, perceptive essence to the universe? The problem, as I have had repeated to me many times, lay in thinking that was ‘one or the other’.

But frankly I do not care about ‘one or the other thinking’. Doesn’t rejecting Capitalism entail a selection and inhabitation within a particular side?

The Empiricial. #

There is a famous text by Hegel. It is called “Who Thinks Abstractly”. In it, Hegel is the famous rationalist. And I rather think he is right.

~~I have attached a copy of the little pamphlet for your convenience. It now seems very difficult to find…~~

He says: Why is not the supposed “concreteness” of empirical thought abstract? In its closeness to the senses, it is unprocessed thought. This is a lesson from Kant: up filters information about the world through the Faculty of Sensibility, into the Faculty of the Understanding, where categorical thinking is made possible. As the famous addage goes:

Thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind.

In order to have rational judgements make sense, therefore, we must submit judgements to what W. V. O. Quine called the ’tribunal of experience’. Sense data cannot simply ‘be’, it is always required to stand for assessment as to whether it is coherent, given the collection of other elements our worldview.

Conversely: Why isn’t the ‘Totality’ of our worldview considered what is actually Concrete? Kant with his Transcendental Idealism seems happy to limit and proscribe much of the operation of the Faculty of Reason within what he calls the limits of a ‘possible experience’. To go further would lead to strange and dangerous types of judgements.

The Return of Hume. #

efficient causation: a cliche.
we should always look deeper than the most famous aspects of a philosopher
bundle theory of consciousness: more important
john mcdowell refers to Hume as a ‘projectivist’ about normative relations.

APPENDIX #

CHAPTER IX;

“Who Thinks Abstractly?”

In the nineteenth-century edition of Hegel’s Werke, this article (Wer denkt abstrakt?) appears in volume XVII, 400-5. Rosen- kranz discusses it briefly (355 f.) and says that it shows “how much Hegel . . . entered into the Berlin manner.”

Glockner reprints it in his edition of the Werke in vol. XX (1930), which is entitled: Vermischte Schriften aus der Berliner Zeit.’ He includes it among “four feuilletons that Hegel wrote for local papers during the later years of his Berlin period.” But Glock- ner admits: “The exact place of publication is unfortunately un- known to me” (xix).

Hoffmeister, whose critical edition of Hegel’s Berliner Schriften: 1818-1831 (1956) is much more comprehensive than Glockner’s (800 pages versus 550), does not include this article. In a footnote he says that it belongs to Hegel’s “Jena period (1807/08)” (xiii). This is an uncharacteristic slip: at the beginning of 1807 Hegel went to Bamberg, in 1808 to Niirnberg; and in the first weeks of 1807, before he left Jena, he certainly lacked the time and peace of mind to write this article.

Of Glockner’s “four feuilletons” Hoffmeister retains only one, and that is really a letter to a newspaper, protesting their review of a new play. Hoffmeister gives no reasons for dating this article so much earlier than Rosenkranz and Glockner did. Possibly, the dis- paraging remark about Kotzebue (a German playwright, 1761- 1819) suggests a date before Kotzebue was stabbed to death by a German theology student. That the piece was written in Jena seems

1“Diverse Writings of the Berlin Period.”

Translation 461

most unlikely: it is so very different from the articles—and the Phenomenology—that Hegel wrote during his harassed and un- happy years in that city. But Hoffmeister could be right that it was written in 1807 or 1808.

WHO THINKS ABSTRACTLY?

TRANSLATION

Think? Abstractly?—Sauve qui peut! Let those who can save themselves! Even now I can hear a traitor, bought by the enemy, exclaim these words, denouncing this essay because it will plainly deal with metaphysics. For metaphysics is a word, no less than abstract, and almost thinking as well, from which everybody more or less runs away as from a man who has caught the plague.

But the intention here really is not so wicked, as if the meaning of thinking and of abstract were to be explained here. There is nothing the beautiful world finds as intolerable as explanations. I, too, find it terrible when somebody begins to explain, for when worst comes to worst I understand everything myself. Here the explana- tion of thinking and abstract would in any case be entirely super- fluous; for it is only because the beautiful world knows what it means to be abstract that it runs away. Just as one does not desire what one does not know, one also cannot hate it. Nor is it my intent to try craftily to reconcile the beautiful world with thinking or with the abstract as if, under the semblance of small talk, thinking and the abstract were to be put over till in the end they had found their way into society incognito, without having aroused any disgust; even as if they were to be adopted imperceptibly by society, or, as the Swabians say, hereingezdéunselt, before the author of this com- plication suddenly exposed this strange guest, namely the abstract, whom the whole party had long treated and recognized under a different title as if he were a good old acquaintance. Such scenes of recognition which are meant to instruct the world against its will have the inexcusable fault that they simultaneously humiliate, and the wirepuller tries with his artifice to gain a little fame; but this humiliation and this vanity destroy the effect, for they push away again an instruction gained at such a price.

462 “WHO THINKS ABSTRACTLY?”

In any case, such a plan would be ruined from the start, for it would require that the crucial word of the riddle is not spoken at the outset. But this has already happened in the title. If this essay toyed with such craftiness, these words should not have been allowed to enter right in the beginning; but like the cabinet member in a comedy, they should have been required to walk around during the entire play in their overcoat, unbuttoning it only in the last scene, disclosing the flashing star of wisdom. The unbuttoning of the meta- physical overcoat would be less effective, to be sure, than the un- buttoning of the minister’s: it would bring to light no more than a couple of words, and the best part of the joke ought to be that it is shown that society has long been in possession of the matter itself; so what they would gain in the end would be the mere name, while the minister’s star signifies something real—a bag of money.

That everybody present should know what thinking is and what is abstract is presupposed in good society, and we certainly are in good society. The question is merely who thinks abstractly. The intent, as already mentioned, is not to reconcile society with these things, to expect it to deal with something difficult, to appeal to its conscience not frivolously to neglect such a matter that befits the rank and status of beings gifted with reason. Rather it is my intent to reconcile the beautiful world with itself, although it does not seem to have a bad conscience about this neglect; still, at least deep down, it has a certain respect for abstract thinking as something exalted, and it looks the other way not because it seems too lowly but be- cause it appears too exalted, not because it seems too mean but rather too noble, or conversely because it seems an Espèce, some- thing special; it seems something that does not lend one distinction in general society, like new clothes, but rather something that—like wretched clothes, or rich ones if they are decorated with precious stones in ancient mounts or embroidery that, be it ever so rich, has long become quasi-Chinese—excludes one from society or makes one ridiculous in it.

Who thinks abstractly? The uneducated, not the educated. Good society does not think abstractly because it is too easy, because it is too lowly (not referring to the external status)—not from an empty affectation of nobility that would place itself above that of which it is not capable, but on account of the inward inferiority of the matter.

The prejudice and respect for abstract thinking are so great that sensitive nostrils will begin to smell some satire or irony at this point;

Translation 463

but since they read the morning paper they know that there is a prize to be had for satires and that I should therefore sooner earn it by competing for it than give up here without further ado.

I have only to adduce examples for my proposition: everybody will grant that they confirm it. A murderer is led to the place of execution. For the common populace he is nothing but a murderer. Ladies perhaps remark that he is a strong, handsome, interesting man. The populace finds this remark terrible: What? A murderer handsome? How can one think so wickedly and call a murderer handsome; no doubt, you yourselves are something not much bet- ter! This is the corruption of morals that is prevalent in the upper classes, a priest may add, knowing the bottom of things and human hearts.

One who knows men traces the development of the criminal’s mind: he finds in his history, in his education, a bad family relation- ship between his father and mother, some tremendous harshness after this human being had done some minor wrong, so he became em- bittered against the social order—a first reaction to this that in effect expelled him and henceforth did not make it possible for him to preserve himself except through crime.—There may be people who will say when they hear such things: he wants to excuse this mur- derer! After all I remember how in my youth I heard a mayor lament that writers of books were going too far and sought to extir- pate Christianity and righteousness altogether; somebody had writ- ten a defense of suicide; terrible, really too terrible!—Further ques- tions revealed that The Sufferings of Werther [by Goethe, 1774] were meant.

This is abstract thinking: to see nothing in the murderer except the abstract fact that he is a murderer, and to annul all other human essence in him with this simple quality.

It is quite different in refined, sentimental circles—in Leipzig. There they strewed and bound flowers on the wheel and on the criminal who was tied to it—But this again is the opposite abstrac- tion. The Christians may indeed trifle with Rosicrucianism, or rather cross-rosism, and wreathe roses around the cross. The cross is the gallows and wheel that have long been hallowed. It has lost its one-sided significance of being the instrument of dishonorable pun- ishment and, on the contrary, suggests the notion of the highest pain and the deepest rejection together with the most joyous rapture and divine honor. The wheel in Leipzig, on the other hand, wreathed

464 “WHO THINKS ABSTRACTLY?”

with violets and poppies, is a reconciliation 4 la Kotzebue, a kind of slovenly sociability between sentimentality and badness.

In quite a different manner I once heard a common old woman who worked in a hospital kill the abstraction of the murderer and bring him to life for honor. The severed head had been placed on the scaffold, and the sun was shining. How beautifully, she said, the sun of God’s grace shines on Binder’s head!—You are not worthy of having the sun shine on you, one says to a rascal with whom one is angry. This woman saw that the murderer’s head was struck by the sunshine and thus was still worthy of it. She raised it from the punishment of the scaffold into the sunny grace of God, and instead of accomplishing the reconciliation with violets and sentimental van- ity, saw him accepted in grace in the higher sun.

Old woman, your eggs are rotten! the maid says to the market woman. What? she replies, my eggs rotten? You may be rotten! You say that about my eggs? You? Did not lice eat your father on the highways? Didn’t your mother run away with the French, and didn’t your grandmother die in a public hospital? Let her get a whole shirt instead of that flimsy scarf; we know well where she got that scarf and her hats: if it were not for those officers, many wouldn’t be decked out like that these days, and if their ladyships paid more attention to their households, many would be in jail right now. Let her mend the holes in her stockings!—In brief, she does not leave one whole thread on her. She thinks abstractly and subsumes the other woman—-scarf, hat, shirt, etc., as well as her fingers and other parts of her, and her father and whole family, too—solely under the crime that she has found the eggs rotten. Everything about her is colored through and through by these rotten eggs, while those officers of which the market woman spoke—if, as one may seriously doubt, there is anything to that—may have got to see very different things.

To move from the maid to a servant, no servant is worse off than one who works for a man of low class and low income; and he is better off the nobler his master is. The common man again thinks more abstractly, he gives himself noble airs vis-à-vis the servant and relates himself to the other man merely as to a servant; he clings to this one predicate. The servant is best off among the French. The nobleman is familiar with his servant, the Frenchman is his friend. When they are alone, the servant does the talking: see Diderot’s Jacques et son maitre; the master does nothing but take snuff and

Translation 465

see what time it is and lets the servant take care of everything else. The nobleman knows that the servant is not merely a servant, but also knows the latest city news, the girls, and harbors good sug- gestions; he asks him about these matters, and the servant may say what he knows about these questions. With a French master, the servant may not only do this; he may also broach a subject, have his own opinions and insist on them; and when the master wants some- thing, it is not done with an order but he has to argue and convince the servant of his opinion and add a good word to make sure that this opinion retains the upper hand. ;

In the army we encounter the same difference. Among the Aus- trians a soldier may be beaten, he is canaille; for whatever has the passive right to be beaten is canaille. Thus the common soldier is for the officer this abstractum of a beatable subject with whom a gentleman who has a uniform and port d’epée must trouble him- self—and that could drive one to make a pact with the devil.

Anarchism and the Rule of Law

Sun, 02 Oct 2022 14:35:00 +0800

Knowing ‘That’, But Knowing ‘How’. #

~vidak

Statecraft and Totalitarianism. #

I recently had the chance to discuss more concrete and prefigurative politics with the ASF-Perth.

We decided the evidence supports the devolution of society into units of no more than around 200 people–around several hundred, in, perhaps exceptional circumstances.

This gave me pause for thought, The totalitarian aspect of the statecraft of the Federal Commonwealth of Australia was immediately cast into deep relief for me. Gone would be the days of largely sedentary, state-bank-backed mortgagee life.

Indeed parts of ASF-Perth have had some further opportunity to reflect on the nature and history of totalitarianism. One comrade recently expressed a definition of totalitarianism that was met with a great degree of approval from members and those in affinity to us.

This was that totalitarianism is the organisation along mass lines for the coercive use of violence–usually State sanctioned or motivated violence for the protection of a hierarchy which privileges some class of people over everybody else.

I think the Libertarians (i.e. anarchists) have it right when they attempt to broaden and deepen the definition and analysis of totalitarianism. I think it would be fair to say anarchism counts virtually all nation states as totalitarian in some way or another.

Statecraft and Empiricism #

Something else I have been reflecting on is the frequently cited but just as frequently misunderstood nature of much of the Western Enlightenment philosophical tradition.

I recently had the opportunity to read some discussion between international and nationally-based comrades about anarchism would regard “Law”, or the “Rule of Law”.

The bourgeois character of much of Enlightenment, Kantianism, and Cartesian Rationalism has always been something I have always been aware, but I have had the time to revisit Locke a little lately–the famous English Empiricist who, among other claims, asserted conscious identity was merely intuitively demonstrable, and distinguished between primary and secondary qualities–something to be ruthlessly and rigorously pushed to its maximum logical absurdity by Hume.

I maintain much of these still-popularly studied philosophies are idle trivialities. Perhaps we could applaud Locke for his political writings, which were to go on to inspire the bourgeois American (1775) and French (1789) Revolutions.

My point is–why do we still popularly focus on the individual as a perceiver, instead of some radically less relativist explanation for Truth? The intersection between classical liberalism and, shall we also similarly say the ‘classical’ empiricists is not without its own ironies.

There is, for instance, something of the beginnings of socialism–or what we could more specifically say the original meaning behind the label ‘social democracy’–within Locke.

Locke did indeed consider the then counter-factual possibility of the enclosure of all the world’s land into private property:

As much land as a man tills, plants, improves, cultivates, and can use the product of, so much is his property. He by his labour does, as it were, inclose it from the common. Nor will it invalidate his right, to say every body else has an equal title to it; and therefore he cannot appropriate, he cannot inclose, without the consent of all his fellow-commoners, all mankind.[^1]

[1]: John Locke (1690) Second Treatise on Government s 32.

And much of the moral economic argument for syndicalism/unionism probably finds much approval, if not its original genetic parenthood in Locke:

The labour of his body, and the work of his hands, we may say, are properly his. Whatsoever then he removes out of the state that nature hath provided, and left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something that is his own, and thereby makes it his property.[^2]

[2]: Ibid., s 27.

Practice; Action. #

So what I am suggesting when I say we should part ways with epistemological individualism?

First, I say we should adopt a practical view with respect to how we treat the empirical data from our senses. That is not to say ears could not comprehend a beautiful sonata; what I am saying is that the metholodigcal individualism of much of what poasses for serious philosophy on epistemology today is overly theoretical.

When I was a member of Socialist Alternative, I was surely ready to be ejeccted when I asserted that Practice came before Theory. The context of the dicussion was the social regurgitation session among the SAlt members about the history of the lead-up to the Leninist ascession to power in October 1917.

We were asked–why were the others besides the Bolsheviks wrong about how to conduct a revolution?

My response–that perhaps the others had poor practical skills–was summarily rejected and repeatedly condemned.

Perhaps the concept of Theory-Before-Practice is able to be comphrehended popularly. In this case I will not elaborate on that point. But what I do mean when I say that the knowings of humans are fundamentally and exclusively originally Practical?

There is already a term in philosophy which embodies some other meaning but shares the same label for what I am about to name this epistemology.

Pragmatism; Voluntarism. #

Put simply, the orthodox meaning of pragmatism in English-speaking philosophy is a metaphysical thesis about Truth that whatever is True is what is useful to one’s own current logical activity.

This is obviously true of the Pragmatism I want to develop, but it is not sufficient for my own term. Perhaps I could better name my competitor epistemology to empiricism something even more arcane: ‘Voluntaristic Materialism’.

I would characterise much epistemology as quite adequate at elaborating soundly on how people can “know that” but most classical empiricisms I would deem as having failed at explaining how conscious creatures can also “know how”.

That is, epistemologies that focus on the passivity of knowing or sensing cannot explain how these knowers are spurred to activity. Perhaps they could describe, albeit purely passively, the logic embodied in some empirically proved activity. But the rational process also observable in human actions would remain sundered from it.

You have another pathway which you can take. And this is non-passive epistemology. Indeed I would characterise this philosophy as a kind of “voluntarism”. This is not to create a philosophy of maximum absurdity. I am not trying to say that you can merely know or naturally perceive anything you wish.

This is also not a relativistic philosophy. What I mean when I say we should embrace voluntarism aout how we perceive the world is that we should assert that, in addition to Practice trumping Theory in terms of foundational for human perception, conscious creature are primarily DOERS instead of mere KNOWERS.

It is as if we have broadened the set of what counts as knowable. In addition to mere passive perception–which is also an activity–we also include active activity.

Locke might have dreamed that pirvate–in its proper sense, as singly-exclusively private–property could be conferred along with the mixing of consciously-directed manual or intellectual labour.

I would reverse the terms to give a more accurate appraisal of our currently advanced-age capitalism: PRIVATE PROPERTY CONFERS LABOUR.

And, as I have said above. I feel free to reverse te terms of traditional empiricist philosophy: KNOWLEDGE IS AN ACTIVITY.

Anarchy is order, but what is ’law’? #

If we ground the concept of political obligation in ‘rule-following’, then we have to specify exactly what constitutes understanding a ‘rule’. Any representationalist explanatio for how people come to internalise rules follows after Hobbes into ‘absolutist’ totalitarianism.

Why? Because we should be sceptical about social contract theories of the State. The only moral relationship their imagined social individual unit had to political obligations sanctified by a state is a Macchiavellian one.

It leads one to stand the concept of social obligations, as it were, on its head. There is a famous Stalinist joke that during an election, perhaps “it is the people who are wrong”, and that an election serves to “dissolve them and elect another”. This is the essential meaning when I say I agree that Australia is not actually a ‘democracy’–it is in fact, a totalitarian state.

So, revisiting the concept of rule following with which we originally started, I say that is best thought of as “dispositions” or “rational habits”. It should not be associated with any particular mental content. In fact the whole concept of mental content (NB. Paolo Freire’s “banking theory” of education) has been thoroughly debunked, at its time is up.

There is an empiricist core to this non-deterministic and non-reductionist form of behaviourism. When we set out to ‘find out what one is thinking’, you do not actually consult another’s ‘ghost in their machine’, with your own internal ‘ghost’.

This is the origin of the modern popularity of the term. The idea that there is mental content is erroneous for the reason that is is a category error about the ‘stuff’ of ideas. It is as if each of us were a homunculus behind our retinas.

I suppose the big cultural upshot of what I am proposing to replace individualist philosophies of mind with, is that I suggest we purge much of our language and models of consciousness and replace them with this non-reductionist behaviourist model.

Indeed the story I have been telling is not just my own. I derived much of the inspiration for wht I call voluntaristic materialism from Wittgenstein through Gilbert Ryle.

The ability of Wittgenstein’s slab movers in his Philosophical Investigations to communicate and cooperate through sheer immersion in a learned activity that had shaped their “dispositions” both.

Indeed I sat in on some instant-message discussion between comrades about the relationship of anarchism to the concept of the “rule of law”.

In much the same was as I advocate for the purging of our language and culture of certain individualist philosophies–I would similarly purge the current conception of the “rule of law” of everything but the meaning that law is anything but a complex rational habit.

I think it could perhaps be argued–not by me–that there is a distinction between orderly cooperation through explicit rules, and “law”, but I think the distinction has by that point become so fine-grained, I am not sure if disenchanting our language that far is necessary. That’s (law) perfectly fine not to purge from our culture.

Perhaps the association of law with retributive justice–ie., law enforced with punishment–could inded be purged. Again, perhaps, revisiting an earlier theme of ‘statecraft and totalitarianism’ is a fruitful one.

Law, Anarchism, and Justice #

Justice is perhaps also the more perfect term for a discussion of the concept of “law” and its relationship to the practice of anarchism.

For the consideration given above about the sized of associations under anarchism that we have earlier adduced could only really be several hundred in population at the very, very most–law under these units would look far, far different than the law that is currently exacted here in Australia, for instance.

Gone would be the totalitarian character of justice, I predict, under these sorts of conditions. But, still present would, or should be (I should say) the concept of explicit formal codified procedures for cooperation, under well-understood circumstances. it is also my understanding, and my hope, that these associations would be perfectly individually voluntary.

I will finish on the bizarre nature of the name I have given my metaphysics: voluntaristic materialism. I claim my insistence on the empirical observability of ‘ideas’ as ‘dispositions’ or perhaps channelling a little Aristotle–‘rational habits’ entitles me to count my philosophy as a materialist one. Why go further at mystification of social relations when they can easily said be empirically observable.

As I may have already explained, the key element of the anti-representationalist nature of the philosophy of mind is that the ‘mind’–if we should refer to it at all here–is an activity, and is future-orientated, and is intentional, relational, if not always goal orientated.

But the term voluntarism I chose because of my old tradition of Western Marxism. I was, after all, a Libertarian Marxist before I became an anarcho-communist. If we return to the individualism of the British Empiricists of Locke, Hume, Bacon, etc., the Western Marxists almost universally associate this with the bourgeois cultural millieu of classical Enlightnment philosophy.

And I agree with them. The Western Marxists took after Lukacs in discovering that bourgeois philosophy was riddled with contradictions. The deepest and most fundamental illogical flaw that the Western Marxists accused Bourgeois philosophy was the “antinomy” of contemplation and voluntarism.

Thus Kant’s ethical analysis leads us back to the unsolved methodological problem of the thing-in-itself. We have already defined the philosophically significant side of this problem, its methodological aspect, as the relation between form and content, as the problem of the irreducibility of the factual, and the irrationality of matter. …

It is well known that Kant did not go beyond the critical interpretation of ethical facts in the individual consciousness. This had a number of consequences. In the first place, these facts were thereby transformed into something merely there and could not be conceived of as having been ‘created’.

Secondly, this intensifies the ‘intelligible contingency’ of an ‘external world’ subject to the laws of nature. In the absence of a real, concrete solution the dilemma of freedom and necessity, of voluntarism and fatalism is simply shunted into a siding. That is to say, in nature and in the ‘external world’ laws still operate with inexorable necessity [22], while freedom and the autonomy that is supposed to result from the discovery of the ethical world are reduced to a mere point of view from which to judge internal events. These events, however, are seen as being subject in all their motives and effects and even in their psychological elements to a fatalistically regarded objective necessity.[^3]

[3]: Georg Lukacs (1971, Trans. Rodney Livingstone) History and Class Consciousness p 125-127.

Empiricism was passive and conservative, and voluntarism was to be indentified with rationalism. Kant embodied the antinomy most perfectly in one persons’s whole philosophy.

The Western Marxists may have been very conservative about the results and achievements of ‘voluntaristic’ philosophies. I say if we re-orientated our understanding of how our senses actually work-ie. are always engaged in practical activity–then I feel we must embrace the idea that we are not mere passive observers of nature, but are always already immersed in complex social relations that are themselves also active.

Western Marxists also typically replaced the concept of the individual as a historical subject of agencies with more mass-oriented class analyses which were sometimes antiquated and quite rigidly totalitarian.

But I, after dwelling on the Western Marxists over the years, saw that they had not meditated at all on the concept of authority of hierarchy. Indeed Lukacs was to pen a serious philosophical tract in support of Leninism.

Georg Lukacs (1924) Lenin: A Study on the Unity of his Thought.

I take Gilbert Rule and the Later Wittgensteinians to really be onto something with their materialist philosophy of anti-representationalism.

Conclusion #

Statecraft and Totalitarianism

We see that statecraft is more or less always an attempt at totalitarianism–the, perhaps, homogenisation of society through retributive-only models of justice: ie., coercion and violence.

Anarchism and Political Obligations

I argue that the anarchist should not shy away from practicing the ‘rule of law’, but this understanding or practice of ’law’ must be informed by voluntaristic materialism. For example: law does not need to be based on bourgeois principles–States versus the individual perceiver as the generalisable model upon which political systems are constructed.

Anti-Representationalism

The ‘mind’ we each sentient creatures possess is a “doer” rather than merely a “knower”. We had to understand experience ecologically, and understand intentionality as a complex, open, system.

What the Empirical Evidence Says About Nuclear 'Deterrence'

Sat, 07 Mar 2020 07:59:40 +0000

Rational deterrence theory developed alongside the advent of nuclear weapons. The intersection of the two events yielded the concept of ‘nuclear deterrence’, an idea that has become popular. It asserts that a real or perceived threat of catastrophic nuclear attack from one state to another allows that first state to deter the second from certain causes of action, namely military confrontations. An extended version of this idea holds that the world is now somehow more peaceful as a result of interlocking looming threats of nuclear attack.

Nuclear deterrence is largely a deductive theory, and has been criticised for, among other things, being ahistorical and lacking in empirical validity. Deterrence proponents have responded by saying that empirical deterrence scholarship such as comparative case studies have failed to persuasively challenge the assumptions behind the theory (Achen & Snidal 1989). This paper will argue that the empirical work that has been done on deterrence theory, criticising its assumptions and conclusions, is largely correct. In particular it will be argued that the conceptual and methodological limitations of the empirical criticisms of nuclear deterrence theory are not too great to be overcome—that is, that it is perfectly valid to build social scientific theories and concepts from empirical observation.

I - Description of The Idea of Nuclear Deterrence #

Nuclear deterrence will be described before discussing the validity of the various empirical criticisms that have been levelled against it. The reason why it must be described is because its use has entered common parlance, and as such has suffered from great variation and diffusion in meaning. A fairly rigorous approximation of nuclear deterrence will be set out in order to provide some terms of reference, so that the deterrence criticisms coming later will fit into some form of coherent dialogue.

Nuclear deterrence proceeds from rational choice analyses. When nuclear deterrence is invoked, the following assumptions are usually implicit:

Rational actor assumption. Actors have exogenously given preferences and choice options, and they seek to optimise preferences in light of other actors’ preferences and options.
Principle explanatory assumption. Variation in outcomes is to be explained by differences in actors’ opportunities. (Appeals to exogenous changes in preferences, or to norms, roles, or culture, are temporarily or analytically suspended.)
Principle substantive assumption. The state acts as if it were a unitary rational actor. (Changes in personnel, in decision-making patterns, or in bureaucratic politics are not the explanatory focus (Achen & Snidal 1989, p. 150).

It follows that a relationship of deterrence is established when a threat of retaliatory nuclear attack from one state alters the preference optimisation calculus of another that is attempting to alter the balance of power in a system. The relationship of deterrence is meant to be established in the following manner. Let us say that there are two states in a system and a state of affairs between them such that there is a stable power ‘status quo’ in the system before any kind of relationship of deterrence comes into being. One state is a defender of the status quo, and the other is an initiator of change of power relations. Pursuant to the assumptions above, both states exist in competition and seek to better their position in the system. Both states perform a calculation of the best decisions to make at any particular time, and let us say that, given the initiator is savvy to the preferences and options of the defender (this is important, preferences being close to ‘desires’ and options being close to real courses of action related to capabilities), it has the preference to attack the defender and alter the status quo. Whether or not it acts on that preference is based on a calculation that involves weighing up the costs and benefits of making that act. One of the costs involved in attacking the defending state is the future threat of it making a retaliatory attack, as ‘punishment’. If the cost of a retaliatory attack from a defending state is too great, an initiator will be deterred from challenging the status quo. Hence a relationship of deterrence is obtained.

A - Credibility #

The problem-solving capacity of deterrence theory concerns the process by which a defending state actively and purposively influences the cost/benefit calculation of an initiator’s decision to attack and change the status quo. The focus which most have placed on the ability of deterrence theory to solve security problems comes from the fact that a significant portion of the initiator’s cost/benefit calculation revolves around an indeterminacy, something that the initiator cannot work out with certainty. Relaxing the assumption above that the initiator is fully aware of preferences and options of the defender, the analyst encounters the problem that initiator cannot know for sure whether the defender will have the ability and commitment to fight back after an attack (Achen & Snidal 1989, p. 151).

The concept that is used to measure the probability by which an initiator estimates the cost of a defender’s ability and commitment to have a war or some other kind of conflict over the alteration of the status quo is called deterrence credibility. Working backwards in the initiator’s decision-making process, suppose that a defender’s threat to retaliate is credible. This means that the initiator believes that the defender has the option to retaliate (not just the desire, but the capacity exists: the defender has the military means to retaliate after an attack and is politically free to do so), and that the defender would find retaliation in its interest if the prize is threatened. Then, if the threatened retaliatory punishment from the defender exceeds the gains of the initiator from attacking, the initiator will believe the attack will make it worse off than by practicing restraint, and will be deterrable, or deterred from attacking.

B - Reassurance #

By dint of history there is a corresponding nuclear deterrence concept which is related to nuclear deterrence credibility but is somewhat different. The concept is called nuclear deterrence stability, and it comes from extending the idea of credibility by replacing the system of one initiator and one defender with one which features two actors that are simultaneous initiators and defenders. Because both actors exist in the same competitive environment as the credibility model, where both actors are seeking to satisfy their preferences as much as possible, and both powers have nuclear weapons, there exists the risk that one actor may pre-empt the other’s nuclear deterrence threats, and totally wipe it out, yielding a zero-sum win for the pre-empting actor. Stability is, in this context, a very narrow indicator. It is meant to measure the ‘second strike’ (or ‘strike second’) nuclear capacity of either actor in this system. If both actors have a second strike capacity, they still have the capacity to form the option of a credible deterrence threat after they have been attacked with a nuclear arsenal. The trouble with this—and this introduces some impurities into the rational choice description of nuclear deterrence—is that there is always the incentive for both actors strive to build nuclear weapons systems that deprive their competitor of a second strike capacity, eradicating the effect of nuclear deterrence entirely. Here the indeterminacy problem of deterrence credibility becomes transmuted into nuclear reassurance. Instead of there being some uncertainty to be explained as to the desire and capacity of a state to attack for the purpose of deterrence, the problem-solving function of the rational choice schema is set towards working out whether either actor believes that its competitor won’t attack. The active and purposive component of reassurance is that, instead of issuing threats, each side seeks to reassure the other that it won’t commit to plans that will see the other side wiped out, destroying the effectiveness of its deterrence. Reassurance is more or less the same as deterrence credibility because a state protects its own deterrence credibility by promising not to harm its competitor’s credibility.

Deterrence and reassurance here turn on the credibility of a retaliatory attack by a defender which alters the cost/benefit calculation of the initiator. It is important to note that credibility turns correspondingly on the perception either generated passively or created actively (and there is some controversy here to be sure) inside the initiator about (a) the nature of the defender, and (b) the defender’s interests and intentions. It should be noted that the empirical literature has much to say about this. For the sake of the current discussion however, it is important to point out how nuclear deterrence theory gets around the perception issues inherent in its operation. The way it gets around the issue of how a defender changes the behaviour of an initiator is that it tightly controls how either actor thinks. First, as per the first assumption above, it makes state preferences (the things they desire) exogenous to the rational choice games through which it puts them. This means that the things that states want are assumed beforehand, and held constant so that games can be constructed in a sensible manner. Second, it makes sure that the behaviour that states exhibit is related to the choice of those assumed preferences, and not anything else. Forces such as mistakes, the role of communication and language, or complex cognitive processes are not the explanatory focus of the theory.

The reason why it is important to point out the way in which nuclear deterrence theory gets around the problems of state communication and interaction is that many of the empirical studies on nuclear deterrence have raised questions about the validity of these rational choice assumptions. The big problem with the empirical criticisms of nuclear deterrence theory, however, is that they proceed from a very different conceptual and methodological paradigm than that of rational choice analyses. The fundamental difference between nuclear deterrence theory and the empirical work that has been done on it is the order in which theory and evidence is used. This has a real effect on the empirical approach’s ability to verify the descriptive and prescriptive claims that nuclear deterrence theory makes. Whereas nuclear deterrence theory is deductive, which abstracts from reality for the purpose of building a theory which is meant to be conceptually coherent and simple in its explanatory import, empirical attempts to engage with deterrence are inductive: observations come first, and typologies and generalisations come second. Methodologically speaking, nuclear deterrence advocates are probably less concerned with individual case explanations than analysts who are attempting to empirically verify the theory. This is significant because the only way that an empirical study of the validity of nuclear deterrence can proceed is by conducting case studies. For instance Achen & Snidal’s complaint that empirical case studies don’t really address the concerns behind the method of deductive theories:

[f]or theoretical purposes, the difficulty with explaining individual cases is that there are so many details in every case that no single theory can reproduce them all, and some evidence can be found for too wide an array of variables and propositions (Achen & Snidal 1989, p. 157).

While this is probably an overstatement of the limits of conducting case studies, there are indeed difficulties with making generalisations with an empirical inquiry when looking at such a deductive and conceptually ‘pure’ theory such as nuclear deterrence. As Jervis (1989, p. 195) notes, when conducting empirical studies,

[i]diosyncrasies are many and powerful; similar outcomes can be reached by many different paths and apparently similar initial conditions do not always yield the same results. Partly for this reason and partly because of the limitations of existing research, what we have no is more a list than a tight theory.

So there is a real divide between the conceptual and methodological fundamentals of deductive and inductive theories. The typologies between empirical case studies of nuclear deterrence theory can be incredibly fluid and varied, and may not rigorously address every facet of the single deductive theory to which they might be aimed. But the disadvantages outlined above should come with a qualification. What we know from the evidence on nuclear deterrence

is not without structure and coherence. Many of the generalisations produced by the case studies are linked; the inferred processes can generate additional propositions; and the arguments apply to a wide range of problems in addition to deterrence and deterrence failures (Jervis 1989, p. 196).

It is important to discuss all this because treating the empirical criticisms of nuclear deterrence theory as if they apply directly to nuclear deterrence’s own analytical focus only tells half the story. As will be shown below, the evidence on nuclear deterrence takes issue with the way states interact and communicate to be sure, but it doesn’t do so in a way that starts from the same first principles as rational deterrence theory. The evidence proceeds in a way that holds a lot of other things constant, and not just the assumptions behind nuclear deterrence. For instance, the evidence might investigate the possibility of preference endogeneity with respect to deterrence, but in a way that sees states as the product of bureaucratic and not unitary decision-making processes. Despite the piecemeal and highly qualified progress of empirical work of nuclear deterrence, it should be seen as valid. The validity comes from its ability to make coherent and persuasive generalisations that have strong and convincing prescriptive and descriptive power.

II - Empirical Findings #

Jervis (1979) provides a concrete summary of what the case study literature finds about the ‘reality’ of nuclear deterrence. The findings fall under several headings (or ‘themes’) and these are: (a) the reality of state risk-taking behaviour; (b) the role of rewards and concessions in deterrence; (c) mistakes, and the things that can go wrong; (d) the limitations of state information-processing and cognition; and (e) the nature of state interests and commitments—that is, the costs that states impose on themselves for the purpose of bringing about nuclear deterrence.

A - Risk-taking #

The first of these themes, risk-taking, is relatively straightforward, and it relates to the ‘brinkmanship’ aspect of nuclear deterrence. Nuclear deterrence theory points towards the use of ‘credible threats of force’—a willingness and capacity to deploy threats of force in order to deter— that are meant to alter the cost/benefit analysis of an initiator’s thinking when that initiator wants to change the status quo power relations. What the empirical evidence says about this process is that states and state elites of a ‘defending’ state are often far more prudent and risk-averse than nuclear deterrence theory would have one believe. States are very often wary of foreclosing the policy options that they have available to them, reducing possible courses of action down to one single choice. The cognitive and information-processing aspect of this preference-selection phenomenon will obviously discussed later, but it is significant to note that the rational calculation aspect of nuclear deterrence suggests that defending state elites should have no trouble issuing grave threats and managing an incredibly risky relationship with an initiator, when in reality this does not seem to be the case at all. What the evidence suggests is that defending and initiating state elites bargain with each other: defending state elites prefer to ‘trade an increment in their chance of prevailing for an increment in the chances of maintaining peace’ (Jervis 1979, p. 303).

Furthermore, there appear to be different risk-management behaviours for different kinds of defenders and initiators. If the above were taken to be a general rule, it would seem that states care less about long-run strategic considerations than one would expect. This is not the case. When it comes to great power (say USA versus USSR) deterrence interactions, long-run considerations feature much more prominently in state decision-making. This means that either side is much more likely to retreat and give concessions instead of issuing new threats. This evidence contradicts nuclear deterrence theory in two ways: first, not all defenders and initiators are the same, and in certain cases, defenders will more than not opt to retreat, trusting initiators to not exploit their concessions.

B - Rewards #

The second theme looks at the role of rewards, instead of threats and disincentives, in a relationship of nuclear deterrence. The evidence on this category refers to the way the defender’s communication with the initiator is meant to change that initiator’s cost/benefit calculation when it wants to attack. What nuclear deterrence theory says about the deterrence relationship is that an initiator’s decision calculus is geared in such a way that only threats of violence from a status quo defender will influence its operation, and cause it to back down. What the evidence says on this matter is that threats of disincentives do not necessarily, or even in most cases, alter an initiator’s decision calculus in a manner that establishes a relationship of deterrence. It may be that a state has no other option—or thinks it has no other option—but to be bellicose, and threats of nuclear violence might only steel its resolve. In instances where things are no so dire, threats of nuclear violence risk ‘humiliating’ an initiator state; on this point the evidence suggests that frequently it is hard for a state to admit total defeat. Threats of nuclear force may in these circumstances cause initiator feelings of resentment, and may make deterrence far more difficult in the future if not couples with some kind of reward or concession—that is if total deterrence is possible at all.

C - Mistakes and Things That Can Go Wrong #

This third theme is a very substantive one, and deals directly with the ‘perception issue’ inherent in nuclear deterrence’s rational choice paradigm. Mistakes, and things that can go wrong when attempting to purposively create a relationship of deterrence fall under another four headings. Deterrence may fail where it is supposed to succeed because the defender: (i) may fail to understand the other’s values; (ii) may misunderstand the way the initiator sees the world; (iii) may have incorrect beliefs about the initiator’s strength and options; and (iv) may face extreme difficulty in correctly determining the initiator’s basic intentions.

Each of these four mistakes in judgment on the part of the defender speaks to the second assumption behind rational deterrence theory. This assumption causes states behaviour to be explained through their ‘opportunities’ only—that is, the opportunity that they have to act on their exogenously given preferences—and not anything else. Not only does this radically simplify the kinds of behaviours states can have, but it also says something about the way states are meant to detect and interpret the behaviours of their counterparts (or ‘competitors’). If the behaviour of states is meant to be tightly linked to their preferences, per a rational choice paradigm, a defending state should be able to safely estimate the preferences of an initiator by looking at its behaviour. However all four of these different types of mistakes and errors in judgment found in the empirical evidence suggest the opposite. They suggest that in practice, states have a very difficult time divining the desires and capabilities of their counterparts.

The explanation in the empirical literature for these difficulties usually falls within a different analytical paradigm. For instance, Jervis (1982) stresses the role of the concept of perceptions in explaining the difficulties states seem to have in correctly working out information about other states. Perceptions represent a significant increase in complexity over exogenous preferences and behaviour in terms of opportunity, because it adds an extra layer of cognitive grey matter over state interaction. Perceptions depend on the attitudes and values of the state that is doing the perceiving, and so when interacting with other states, the perceiving state is heavily conditioned by its own conscious and unconscious psychological elements. This says something about the way states perform their supposed rational calculation under rational choice analyses—this will be discussed next.

D - Information processing and Cognition #

The fourth theme is not directly related to the three assumptions outlined above, but nonetheless relates to them closely. Nuclear deterrence theory asserts that states should be able to perform a careful and precise rational appraisal of the costs and benefits of choices when considering bringing about, or reacting to relationships of deterrence. Typically, there should be very few limits in making mistakes or errors of judgment when calculating the kinds of choices involved in executing or reacting to a relationship of deterrence. Note that this is different from the heading above. The theme above describes the errors states makes about their counterparts, this theme covers the expectations that states have about the probabilities of certain things occurring in general.

The Jervis outlines three errors in rationality that states exhibit in practice (Jervis 1979, pp. 310-311). The first of these is that states usually focus on the payoffs involved in the decision-making process, rather than what should be their true focus of calculation: changes in event probabilities. The second is very straight forward, and that is that there is evidence to indicate that even if states have a firm grasp of the probabilities involved in attempting to engineer a relationship of deterrence, they don’t calculate as precisely as they should. The third impairment of rationality is that states, even when they have good estimates of event probabilities, fail to make proper explicit value trade-offs.

Each of these three errors in cognition are again related to the first assumption behind rational deterrence theory, that of preference exogeneity. The theory assumes that states rank and order preferences in a systematic and unbiased manner. What the evidences suggests about state rationality is that states don’t seem to draw up and scrutinise policy preferences in such a clear and ordered manner. Some preferences are more valued than others for cognitive, yet—if one was talking in a strict sense—irrational reasons, whereas others may not suffer from being under- or over-valued, but may not be compared and analysed properly.

E - State Interests and Commitments #

The fifth and final theme that Jervis describes as emerging from the body of empirical literature about nuclear deterrence is that of the nature of state interests and commitments when attempting to establish a relationship of deterrence. Very briefly, this theme looks at the way states formulate their perceptions of the costs and benefits that are involved in establishing a relationship of nuclear deterrence, be they defender or initiator. The empirical literature suggests that there exist two factors that influence state rationality when they deal with nuclear deterrence relationships, and these are either (i) a state’s interest in something; or (ii) a state’s commitment with respect to something. What is important about these two factors is that they are measures of costs and benefits that states self-impose upon themselves. This is of course against the grain when it comes to the precepts of rational deterrence theory, which, again, returning to the matter of preference exogeneity, says that states consider all options equally and without bias.

III - Conclusion #

This paper has made a very brief effort at outlining the operation of rational deterrence theory, one of the many bases that exist for substantiating nuclear deterrence theories, and in turn relating rational deterrence theory to the criticisms that have been made of it in empirical literature. The paper’s attention has chiefly been concerned with Robert Jervis’s summary of the empirical work that has been done on rational deterrence theory.

3 923.

Bibliography

Achen, CH & Snidal, D 1989, ‘Rational Deterrence Theory and Comparative Case Studies’, World Politics, vol 41, no. 2, pp. 143-169.

Jervis, R 1979, ‘Deterrence Theory Revisited’, World Politics, vol 31, no. 2, pp. 289-324.

Jervis, R 1982, ‘Deterrence and Perception’, International Security, vol 7, no. 3, pp. 3-30.

Jervis, R 1989, ‘Rational Deterrence: Theory and Evidence’, World Politics, vol 41, no. 2, pp. 183-207.

MccGwire, M 1986, ‘Deterrence: the problem–not the solution’, International Affairs, pp. 55-70.

MccGwire, M 1994, ‘Is There a Future for Nuclear Weapons?’, International Affairs, vol 70, no. 2, pp. 211-228.

MccGwire, M 2006, ‘Appendix 2: Nuclear deterrence’, International Affairs, vol 82, no. 4, pp. 771-784.

Ritchie, N 2009, ‘Deterrence dogma? Challenging the relevance of British nuclear weapons’, International Affairs, vol 85, no. 1, pp. 81-98.

What is an Operating System?

Fri, 27 Dec 2019 05:55:45 +0800

THE MINIX BOOK: GET IT UP YA! (Chapter One) #

– BOOK SYNOPSIS and BASIC CONCEPTS –

There are several major core components of an operating system:

Processes
Files
Memory
I/O

The book is divided up into major chapters which deal exhaustively with each topic, but for the purposes of this synopsis, we will deal with these four topics briefly under the headings:

Processes
Files
The Shell
System Calls

What is an Operating System? #

Tanenbaum recommends defining an operating system both:

An “Extended Machine”; and
A Resource Manager.

The best elucidation of what is meant by these two terms comes from the summary of the chapter, because much of these introductory paragraphs are just platitudes that list the components of a computer, and don’t actually explain anything.

From the summary:

With respect to the “resource manager” attribute or aspect of the definition of an operating system, this means that “the operating system needs to efficiently manage the resources of the system”.

Regarding the “extended machine” view, Tenanbaum says: “The job of the operating system is to provide its users with a virtual machine that is more convenient to use than the actual bare metal of the computer”.

Processes #

A program in execution within an operating system is defined as a “process”.

Tenanbaum: “Associated with each process is its address space, a list of memory locations from some minimum to some maximum, to which the process is permitted to read and write.”

The address space contains the executable program, the program’s data, and its stack. Associated with the program is some set of CPU registers, including the Program Counter (PC), Stack Pointer (SP), &c.

Multiprogramming #

One important key concept of the Process Management aspect of operating systems is “multiprogramming”. This means most often systematically, and at other times and arbitrarily and reactively being able to start, stop, suspend and kill processes at will.

Suspending processes #

When a process is suspended, it has to be started in exactly the same state as it was stopped. All the information abut the state of that process has to be recorded down, somewhere, somehow.

In many operating systems, all the information about the process, other than the contents of its own address space, is stored in an operating system table called the process table, which is an array (or linked list) of structures, one for each process currently in existence.

Therefore, a suspended process consists of its address space, usually called its “core image”, alongside its “process table entry”, which contants the state and name of its associated CPU registers.

Process Management System Calls #

Commands or requests sent to the operating system to manipulate or read information about processes, whether they be from a process about itself or another one, is called “process management”, and the request or instruction sent to the operating system is called a “system call”.

Even Graphical User Interfaces can manage operating system processes. GUIs are just very simple command interpreters. And of course command line shells or terminal emulators are obviously able to manipulate operating system process management by issuing system calls.

Interprocess Communication #

Processes can create other processes. Processes that are created from others are called ‘child’ processes, and the ones that create them are called ‘parent’ processes.
Related processes that are cooperating to get some job done often need to communicate with one-another and synchronise their activities. This set of interrelationships is called interprocess communication
Processes themselves are able to make system calls. The system calls that processes are commonly known to make are:
- Request more memory
- Release unused memory
- Wait for a child process to terminate
- “Overlay its own program with another, different one”.

Signals #

Sometimes we need to convey information to a process that is not waiting or expecting this information. Here’s an example:

A process is sending some information to another host somewhere outside this operating system. The process will request the operating system to notify it of the exhaustion of a time limit by setting a timer, so that the process can determine whether to retransmit the information.

This is called an ‘alarm’ signal. Signals are special instructions that operating systems send to processes to interrupt their normal and autonomous operation. This is a really important and powerful feature of operating systems. Signals are the software equivalent or analogue of hardware interrupts. They are instrumental in being able to negotiate multiprogramming operating system environments.

When a process receives a signal, the process stops what it is doing, saves its state to memory, and goes into a special signal handling procedure. When that is done, the process recovers its old state, and goes back to what it was doing.

There are many and various types of signals, and reasons for using them. (Like the KILL signal that we’re all familiar with >:3). Some interesting signals are ones generated and sent due to traps in the kernel detected by hardware, like illegal instructions or invalid addresses.

I am going to skip over the text on UIDs, GIDs, because everyone I am addressing this to has some conception of UNIX PIDs which is of a good working standard.

Files #

Definiton of Some Terms #

A “file pathname” is the location of a file relative to the location of the root of the filesystem. File systems in this book are assumed to be hierarchical. So, we all know /home/USERNAME/… etc, or /dev/sda… etc.

Every process has a “working directory”, which is the files in a path relative to this defined path that the process “looks for”.

“File permissions” -> self explanatory, already prior knowledge of most UNIX-like operating system users. Turns out they’re a part of how the operating system manages system calls, processes, and memory!! Who knew??

“Mounting file systems” -> attaching different directory hierarchies, sometimes with different filesystem architectures, to some location relative to the root of some other file system hierarchy.

General Concept of ‘Files’ in Operating Systems #

Operating systems provide programmers and users with abstractions of the I/O and disk hardware. That way, the arbitariness and pecularity of the hardware, and the file system digital structure, is hidden, but still able to be manipulated just as effectively, if not more powerfully.

Files, File Systems, and System Calls #

System calls, much like in process management, are used to manipulate files and file systems. System calls can:

Create files
Remove files
Read from files
Write to files

A lot of these operations are dependent on another concept called ‘opening’ and ‘closing’ files. This is fairly intuitive. A file that hasn’t been opened cannot be written to, and a file that has not been closed has not entered a state in which it is ready to be read by other processes.

It goes without saying that, yep, you guessed it, system calls all deal with manipulating directories of files as well as just the files.

A final note: both processes and file systems are organised hierarchically, but the similarity stops there. Processes usually only exist temporarily, and for matters of minutes, but files have been known to exist in wild for many multiples of years.

Special Files #

These objects in file systems are provided in order for devices, and other kinds of complex hardware components to look like files. This special kind of object allows the use of identical system calls for access and manipulation of the hardware.

Special Files in MINIX 3 #

In MINIX 3, there are two kinds of special files, and as far as I can tell, people who are UNIX-like users will already be very familiar with them:

Block Files
Character Files

The first treat randomly accessible hardware components, such as hard disks or CD-ROMs &c, as files in the file system. The great power of this form of hardware control allows one to open up blocks of data on a hardware component through processes without needing to know anything about the structure of the way the files are organised on that opened block at all.

The second is very simple: a character file allows the interfacing of the operating system with hardware that accepts character I/O, say… serial modems or old-timey printers, routers… &c

Pipes #

Pipes allow processes to send information to one-another by tricking them into thinkign that they are writing to files, when in fact the operating system is directly ‘piping’ the information between them.

[A] === [B]

These two processes, for example, think they are writing out their output to regular files in the file system, but actually they are directly transmitting information between themselves. The processes would have to submit a system call in order to discover this greater amount of contextual information about how they are operating.

The Shell #

It is, in fact, not a part of the operating system at all. It does, make heavy use of a great number of the features of an operating system.

Comment from Vidak: ((It is also the objectively correct way to interface with a computer system. If you disagree you are wrong and should feel bad. Go home and rethink your life C; ))

System Calls #

Tanenbaum: “It is useful to remember: single CPUs can only execute one instruction at a time. If a process is running a user program in user mode and needs a system service, such as reading data from a file, it has to execute a trap or system call instruction to transfer control to the operating system in order to complete this task.

The operating system then inspects the parameters of the calling process in order to work out what it wants.

Speaking broadly and generally, this is the process through which a process makes a system call to the operating system:

The operating system carries out the system call, after taking over control from it, and then returns CPU control to the instruction that made the call.
Frequently, however, processes make “procedure calls”, and not system calls in order to complete tasks. A procedure call is is the same as a system call, except that procedure call execution does not enter the kernel/superuser mode in order to complete the request that a process has made.

MINIX System Calls #

As a general rule, MINIX is highly conformant with POSIX standards. However, the mapping of MINIX system calls onto POSIX procedure calls is not always necessarily 1:1. The POSIX standard specifies a number of procedures that a conformant system must supply, but it does not specify/require them to be system calls, library calls, or something else.

In some cases, the POSIX procedures are supported as library routines in MINIX 3. In roders, several required procedures are only minor variations of one-another, and one system call handles all of them.

An Exhaustive List of MINIX 3’s System Calls #

There are exactly 53 fundamental system calls in the MINIX operating system. They are divided up into exactly six categories. These are the six categories:

Process Management
Signals
File Management
Directory and File System Management
Protection
Time Management

Comment from Vidak:

My decision to include a complete list of all the basic system calls in MINIX that are written in Chapter One is because having some familiarity with any or all of them is very enlightening and informative. Each of these system calls is conformant with some critical requirement in the POSIX standard. This means just reading the names and descriptions of each of the system calls helps you learn the POSIX standard.

As far as I am aware, a complete operating system, even if just a toy one, can be assembled by implementing all of these system calls. This is a very exciting fact to know. It means you can have a powerful working knowledge of operating systems just by knowing this small number of system calls (what is elsewhere called an API, in proprietary operating system documentation).

To better aid memorisation or quick mental recall, I have added mneumonics next to each brief system call definition. The structure of the sections that follow is the following:

X: SYSTEM CALL CODE > (“MNEUMONIC”) SYSTEM CALL DEFINITION > > DISCUSSION

0 PROCESS MANAGEMENT #

(Number of system calls: 10)

0: pid = fork() #

(“FORK”) Create a child process identical to the parent.

This is the only way to make a new process in MINIX 3. It creates an exact duplicate of the original process, including all the file descriptors, registers – /everything/. After the fork, the original process (parent) and the copy (child) go their separate ways. All the variables have identical values at the time of the fork, but since the parent’s data are copied to create the child, subsequent changes in one of them do nto affect the other – however, at this stage, the program text of both the parent and child are identical.

The fork call returns a value which is zero in the child and equal to the child’s PID in the parent. Using the returned PID, the two processes can see which one is the parent, and which one is the child.

1: pid = waitpid(pid, &statloc, opts) #

(“WAITPID”) Wait for a child process to terminate.

In most cases, the child will need to execute different code than the parent. This is where this system call is very important. This system call is an instruction that the parent process sends to the operating system. Its purpose is to request the operating system to suspend the parent in order to wait for the completion of the execution of the child process.

The address pointed to by the second parameter, statloc, will be set to the child’s exit status. The third parameter offers various other options, and makes a little interesting extra reading.

2: s = wait(&status) #

(“WAIT”) Old version of waitpid(…)

3: s = execve(name, argv, envp) #

(“EXECVE”) Replace the entire core image of a process.

To affect some interesting consequence in the world, the child process is somehow going to have to change its program code. This system call achieves that purpose. It replaces the entire core image of the child process. The new core image that the child process receives is the first parameter of the system call, ’name’.

This is only the basic gist of how this flow works, however, because, in MINIX it is actually a little more complex. The actual system call that is performed to replace a process’s core image is called ’exec’, and the system call written here is actually one of the subsequent library calls that exec makes.

The extra complexity on this point is actually very good – it means you have many different parameters and options to consider when forking.

This is a non-exhaustive list of the different library routines which assist the primitive exec system call:

execl
execv
execle
execve

These different libraries are provided to allow the parameters of exec to be omitted or specified in various ways. Generally, throughout the MINX 3 book, these are all grouped together under the abstract concept of exec.

In the msot general case of forking, execve has three parameters:

Name of the executable file with which to replace the child core image.
Pointer to the array of arguments to pass to execve.
Pointer to the environment array.

Demonstration #

Consider a practical example. How does the operating system execute the following shell command?

cp file1 file2

The program code of cp is, lamentably, written in C, but its main procedure looks like this:

main(argc, argv, envp)

ARGC -> The number of items inputted to the command line.
ARGV -> A pointer to an array which allows one to select between the different number of command line items inputted. (For example,
```
Element *i* of that array is a pointer to the *i*-th string on
the command line: ARGV[0] -> "cp"; ARGV[1] -> "file1", &c.
```
ENVP -> The third parameter of cp’s main procedure is a pointer to the environment, an array of strings containing assignments of the form name = value, which is used to pass information such as the terminal type and home directory name to a program.

So, when loading the cp program data into a child process’s core image, the operating system will fill in all these variables for the child process, so that it can execute the code, complete its program, and then exit. All of this was triggered by the parent process’s request to the operating system for a forking of its process, according to the parameters it passed along with the FORK system call.

What happens after the child process has completed the execution of its program?

4: exit(status) #

(“EXIT”) Terminate the execution of a process and return an exit status number.

The child process will pass an EXIT system call to the operating system. This system call will pass a status value with its call, which, in MINIX (and, I think this is POSIX conformant, so therefore true for all UNIX operating systems), is number from 0 to 255 (i.e., $0000 to $FF - I refuse to use the notation ‘0xFF’).

This exit status is actually passed to the parent process. It is passed into the &statloc argument of its completed WAITPID system call (see above).

If I am correct, &statloc is a 16-bit argument. The lower 8-bits of the argument contains the termination status, with 0 being normal termination and the other values being various error conditions. The higher 8-bits contains the child’s exit status.

Say, if a child process exits its execution with ‘4’ as the parameter to exit, the parent will be awakened by the operating system with n set to the child’s PID, and &statloc set to the constant $0400.

5: size = brk(addr) #

(“SIZE”/“BRK”) Set the size of the process’s data segment (i.e., where the process’s variables are stored in RAM).

Now we can move onto a different topic: the anatomy of processes in MINIX and POSIX systems. In MINIX, processes have their memory divided up into three segments:

Text segment (Program code)
Data segment (Variables)
Stack segment

Speaking generally, this illustration represent the memory map of a typical process:

STACK	(grows downwards)
GAP
GAP
DATA	(grows upwards)
TEXT

As the process moves through execution, the data segment grows ever upwards into memory, and the stack grows ever downwards. Between them is unused memory/address space.

The stack grows into the gap automatically, as needed. The expansion of the data segment, however, is done explicitly through the use a system called BRK (the title of this heading) which specifies the new address where the data segment is to end.

This address may be more or less than the current value, however it is forbidden to have the data segment become more than the stack.

BRK, and SBRK (the semi-automatic library for the BRK system call), are however, NOT POSIX.

Usually, programmers, at time of this writing of the MINIX book (2008) are encouraged to use malloc. Hilariously, malloc is not specified in POSIX, because it was thought not necessary.

6: pid = getpid() #

(“GETPID”) Return caller’s PID.

7: pid = getpgrp() #

(“GETPGRP”) Return ID of caller’s process group.

8: pid = setsid() #

(“SETSID”) Create new ‘session’ and return its process group ID.

9: l = ptrace(req, pid, addr, data) #

(“PTRACE”) Used for debugging. There is a shell command called ptrace. Running it yourself is completely safe, and it’s a great way to learn about how all this stuff works! :-)

1 SIGNALS #

(Number of system calls: 8)

When a signal is sent to a process that has not announced its willingness to accept that signal, the process is unilaterally ‘killed’. To avoid this fate, a process can use the SIGACTION system call:

0: s = sigaction(sig, &act, &oldact) #

(“SIGACTION”) Define the action that is to be taken on a transmitted signal.

With this system call, a process can announce that it is prepared to accept some signal type, and to provide the address of the signal handling procedure and a place to store the address of the current signal.

After a SIGACTION call, if a signal of the relevant type is generated, the state of the process is pushed onto its own stack, and then the signal handler is called. It may run for as long as it wants to, and perform any system calls it wants.

When the signal handling is done, it calls SIGRETURN (immediately below) to continue where it left off.

1: s = sigreturn(&context) #

(“SIGRETURN”) Return from a signal.

2: s = sigprocmask(how, &set, &old) #

(“SIGPROCMASK”) Examine or change the signal mask.

Signals can be blocked, by processes, but not indefinitely. ‘Blocked’ signals are held pending until unblocked. This system call, SIGPROCMASK, examines or manipulates a bitmap of ‘a’ or ’the’ set of current blocked system signals.

3: s = sigpending(set) #

(“SIGPENDING”) Find out the set of signals that are currently blocked.

A process can use this system call to inquire and learn about the pending set of signals that are currently undeliverable due to being blocked. This information is returned as a bitmap.

4: s = sigsuspend(sigmask) #

(“SIGSUSPEND”) Replace the signal mask and suspend the selected process.

Using this system call, a process may suspend itself by setting a bitmap of suspended system processes.

5: s = kill(pid, sig) #

(“KILL”) Send a signal to a process.

A signal can prevent subsequent types of signals from the operating system with SIG_IGN, and can return to default action responses to signals with SIG_DFL.

Vidak: ((I assume both of these variables manipulate the system bitmap of signals.))

However, the default action is either to KILL a process or ignore the signal, depending on which signal it is, in the current context.

Critically, there are virtually no processes can can ignore or capture and ‘block’ the signal KILL when it is exercised unilaterally by the operating system.

6: residual = alarm(seconds) #

(“RESIDUAL”) Set the alarm clock.

7: s = pause() #

(“PAUSE”) Suspend the caller until the next signal.

2 FILE MANAGEMENT #

(Number of system calls: 15)

0: fd = creat(name, mode) #

(“CREAT”) Obsolete way to create a new file.

1: fd = mknod(name, mode, addr) #

(“MKNOD”) Create regular, special, or directory i-node.

2: fd = open(file, how, …) #

(“OPEN”) Open file for reading, writing, or both.

3: s = close(fd) #

(“CLOSE”) Close an open file.

4: n = read(fd, buffer, nbytes) #

(“READ”) Read data from file into buffer.

5: n = write(fd, buffer, nbytes) #

(“WRITE”) Write data from buffer into file.

6: pos = lseek(fd, offset, whence) #

(“LSEEK”) Move the file pointer information. (So, we’re now pointing somewhere else).

7: s = stat(name, &buff) #

(“STAT”) Get the file’s status.

8: s = fstat(fd, &buf) #

(“FSTAT”) Get file’s status information.

9: fd = dup(fd) #

(“DUP”) Allocate new file descriptor for open file.

10: s = pipe(&fd[0]) #

(“PIPE”) Create pipe.

11: s = ioctl(fd, request, argp) #

(“IOCTL”) Perform special operations on a file.

12: s = access(name, amode) #

(“ACCESS”) Check a file’s accessibility.

13: s = rename(old, new) #

(“RENAME”) Give a file a new name.

14: s = fcntl(fd, cmd, …) #

(“FCNTL”) Lock a file, and other sorts of operations.

3 DIRECTORY AND FILE SYSTEM MANAGEMENT #

(Number of system calls: 9)

These system calls your average UNIX user would use perhaps 200 times a week, so I will not spend time explaining them, as they are really a part of basic UNIX literacy.

0: s = mkdir(name, mode) #

1: s = rmdir(name) #

2: s = link(name, name2) #

3: s = unlink(name) #

4: s = mount(special, name, flag) #

5: s = umount(special) #

6: s = sync() #

7: s = chdir(dirname) #

8: s = chroot(dirname) #

4 PROTECTION #

(Number of system calls: 7)

Again, all of this is a part of basic UNIX literacy. It is quite happy that basic UNIX (shell) literacy is virtually immediate instruction and familiarity with directly controlling the system kernel. There are no intermediate metaphors, like the ‘app store’ or ‘siri’/‘cortana’.

0: s = chmod #

1: uid = getuid() #

2: gid = setgid() #

3: s = setuid(uid) #

4: s = setgid(gid) #

5: s = chown(name, owner, group) #

6: oldmask = umask(complmode) #

5 TIME MANAGEMENT #

(Number of system calls: 4)

0: seconds = time(&seconds) #

(Get elapsed time since 1970-01-01).

1: s = stime(tp) #

(Set elapsed time since 1970-01-01).

2: s = utime(file, timep) #

(Set file’s ’last access’ time).

3: s = times(buffer) #

(Get the user and system times used so far).

Conclusion: Monolithic Operating Systems #

Tanenbaum argues that monolithic operating systems effectively have no structure.

These operating systems are an enormous bank which is a collection of all the procedures that form the entire operating system.

Any procedure may call any other. The thing that does organise and structure the monolithic operating system is that each procedure has well defined interfaces, in terms of their paramters and expected results.

“To construct the actual object project of the monolithic operating system when this approach is used, one:

(1) First compiles all the individual procedures (or files containing the procedures) (2) Then binds them together into a single object file using the “system linker”

Monolithic kernels have essentially no “information binding”. Every procedure is visible to every other procedure. This is counterposed to a structure where an operating system is organised into modules or packages. This alternative structure has designated entry and exit points for each module, and will otherwise conceal the rest of the information about its operation.

Monolithic systems can have a little structure: the “services” or, more POSIX-like, “system calls” are all provided and implemented by structuring them in such a way that their paramters are placed in well-known locations like, (a) certain registers; (b) the stack.

In monolithic systems, the supervisor call switches the computer from user to kernel mode, and transfers control the user to the operating system. Most CPUs are structured in this way: (userland/superuser space).

An Example System Call #

Let us take this example system call, to illustrate this switching between usermode and superuser mode:

count = read(fd, buffer, nbytes);

Push parameters nbytes, buffer, and fd onto the stack, in that order – the reverse order. This is done by convention in C and C++ because it is convenient and desirable to make the first parameter to the format string PRINTF appear at the top of the stack. ((Don’t worry, I don’t understand either.))

The parameters fd and nbytes are called by value, but buffer is caleld by reference – which means the address of the buffer is passed, and not the actual value of the contents of the buffer.
We then call the library procedures which prepare the data for calling the operating system. This instruction is the normal procedure call instruction that we use to call all procedures in MINIX. The library is possibly written in ASM. The library puts the system call numebr in a place where the operating system expects it (for example, in some CPU register designated by convention).
The TRAP instruction is then executed, and we switch from user mode to superuser mode. Execution is usually started a fixed address.
The kernel takes the system call binary or hex value, and examines it, and then dispatches it to the system call handler. Usually this is done with a system of pointers to tables that would call the handlers of this particular system call number input.
The system call handler is selected by the pointer tables, and runs.
The system call handler finishes its work, and CPU control is now handed back to userspace library procedure that called this whole process. Execution is resumed at the exact instruction after the TRAP command.
Return is called, and we’re now back in the userland program that called the system call.
The stack now needs to be cleaned up. The quick and dirty way to do this is usually to point the Stack Pointer where it will overwrite the old kernel system call and system call argument values.

Tanenbaum’s Suggested Monolithic Operating System Structure #

A main userland program which invoked or executes the system call procedure.
A set of service procedures which carry out the system calls.
A set of utility procedures which help the system call procedures.

For each system call you’d ideally have one service procedure. The utility procedures then do things that many service procedures require, like getting the right data from userland.

FIN #

Evald V. Ilyenkov and A. N. Leontev on Language Acquisition

Thu, 21 Nov 2019 16:03:00 +0800

0.0 Introduction #

This paper will describe, and then compare and contrast, two very different ‘second-language’ acquisition activities. The underlying philosophical viewpoints that underpin each of the activities will also be drawn out and discussed. The advantages and short-comings of each of the approaches underlying the two activities considered in the paper will be elucidated. The two activities and respective language-acquisition approaches discussed in this paper are (a) a memorisation activity, and its corresponding behaviourist underpinning; and (b) a social peer-interview report exercise and its corresponding social constructivist underpinning. It will be argued that while memorisation activities such as the one discussed in the paper are almost universally incorporated as some component of ‘second-language’ acquisition, its philosophical underpinning is fundamentally flawed. Wrote-learning and memorisation are a function of the wide-spread social norm that classrooms are the best place to learn languages. Memorisation caters to the rationalisation of education as an ‘outcomes based’ practice, which reifies human existence. Against the behaviourist philosophical underpinning of memorisation activities and its attendant consequences for education, it will be argued that a social constructivist position should be taken towards language acquisition, such as that embodied in the chosen activity presented.

1.0.0 – Main Section #

1.1.0 – Description of Activities #

1.1.1 – Activity One #

The first activity considered in this paper is a very simple one, but it is more or less ubiquitous within language acquisition programs. It is actually two different activities, but since the theoretical assumptions underpinning those two activities are so similar, they will be considered together as one unit, to give a broader and fuller understanding of those theoretical assumptions.

The first part of activity one is the memorisation of common English phrases such as ‘good morning!’, ‘how are you?’, and ‘congratulations!’ The L1 associated with this part of the activity is French, although one could just as easily transfer the activity into any other L1. The substantial content of the activity consists in having the English phrases (L2) to be learned placed alongside their equivalent French counterparts (L1). The execution of the activity could be oral, aural, or written. It would involve memorising the form and content of the English (L2) phrases with regard to the original French (L1) form and content.

The second part of the activity is the memorisation of English homophones. Homophones are words that sound the same, but have different meanings, and sometimes different spellings. Homophones are particularly difficult to learn because they seem at first quite arbitrary. This appearance of arbitrariness usually leads to activities such as this one, which are based on memorisation and wrote-learning. The purpose of this activity is to memorise the English (L2) words that are equivalent to the learner’s L1. Again, the execution of this activity could be oral, aural, written, or some combination of the three.

1.1.2 – Activity Two #

The second activity considered by this paper is called ‘conversation grid’. A grid of questions is drawn up, and learners must converse and interact with one-another using their L2 in order to record answers to the questions on the grid. The activity is first modelled by the teacher and another student, or by two students, and then learners go off by themselves and learn via their peers. A key facet of this activity is that it stresses minimal teacher authority. Learners are encouraged to try dialogue for themselves and ‘muddle through’. The activity can be as easy or as difficult as the level of command of English of the learners requires. Beginner learners would discuss and record information about other’s hobbies, likes and dislikes, or occupations. More advanced learners could discuss more abstract topics, and could be required to write more fuller and complex written answers to the prescribed questions. The purpose of activity two is to involve learners in social interaction, as opposed to the first activity. Activity two emphasises the communication of meaning, as opposed to the mastery of technical linguistic forms.

1.2.0 – Theoretical Underpinnings of Activities #

The two activities that were chosen to be considered in this paper are based on very different views about personhood, the mind, and learning. The two different views manifested in the above two activities will now be considered.

1.2.1 – Activity One #

The theoretical assumptions about the mind and the person that underpin the first activity can be collectively labelled ‘behaviourism’. Behaviourism, as its name suggests, asserts that the truth about someone’s learning is located in their behaviour, and not in their consciousness. It is argued that behaviourism is a persuasive way of viewing learning because of the claim that ‘behavioural change can be perceived objectively and can therefore be measured’ (Louw, 1993: 220). Behaviourism proceeds from the view that

what we have learned cannot be directly perceived; but the resulting change in behaviour or performance can be. On the basis of our performance, it can be deduced what and how much we have learned (Louw, 1993: 220).

Behaviourism proceeds from the vulgar materialist and empiricist view of the mind that asserts that because consciousness does not disclose itself as physical or material substance, it shouldn’t be considered as actually real. The resulting theoretical framework that results from this philosophical assumption resolves all human behaviour into ‘stimuli’ and ‘responses’. The process by which a stimulus results in a response is called a ‘reflex’. Behaviourism treats learning as ‘conditioning’. Conditioning is the behaviourist concept for the process whereby a person’s the physical environment is altered in such a way that they develop new reflexes in order to deal with new stimuli.

1.2.2 – Activity Two #

The learning theory called ‘social constructivism’ underpins the second activity. If behaviourism can be said to be the ‘most primitive’ form of descriptive and explanatory paradigm for learning, social constructivism could be said to be ‘two notches above it’.

The branch of social constructivism that will be accounted for here will be what has been termed ‘activity theory’. Activity theory developed out of Lev Vygotsky’s research on educational psychology. It is premised on dialectical materialism, a metaphysics that was developed in an attempt to resolve the ‘antimonies [contradictions] of bourgeois thought’ (Ilyenkov, 1977). Behaviourism is one side of the main contradiction within bourgeois thought. It asserts that truth is purely objective and measurable. The other side of the contradiction is idealism, which asserts that truth is more or less purely seated in the mind. (Whether or not cognitivism falls into this latter category is a matter of debate. Some argue cognitivism is merely an eclectic form of behaviourism.)

Dialectical materialism, in order to resolve this contradiction (what describes explains human being and thought? The environment or human mental states?), asserts that ‘it is not [a person’s] consciousness that determines their existence, but on the contrary, their social existence that determines their consciousness’ (Lukacs, 1971: 18). Activity theory expands on this metaphysics by asserting that language is but one component of a body of objective, but immaterial, socially constructed thought-forms that mediate subjective human interaction with the objective environment (Leontev, 1977).

1.3.0 – Discussion #

The purpose of this section, the discussion section, is to compare and contrast the two lessons described above. The purpose of this is to explain how they are influenced by the above two different theories of language learning. From this explanation an argument will be built that asserts that social constructivism points to a deeper and fuller understanding of second-language acquisition. Very briefly, the behaviourist recipe for ‘learning’ an L2 (N.B. this method represents ‘classical conditioning’, as opposed to ‘operant conditioning’) is as follows:

Identify the learner’s L1. The learner’s L1 is, for the purposes of the L2 acquisition, an ‘unconditioned stimulus’ (UCS) which produces ‘unconditioned responses’ (UCR). The UCR in this case is the learner’s comprehension of linguistic meaning.
Pair the UCS with a neutral stimulus, the L2 sought to be ‘learned’. This is memorisation and wrote learning.
Remove the learner’s L1 from the learning environment. Apply to the learner the neutral stimulus, the L2, the ‘conditioned stimulus’ (CS), and this will elicit comprehension in the learner of the L2, a ‘conditioned response’ (CR) (Louw, 1993: 224).

Abstractly:

UCS -> UCR
UCS + CS -> UCR
CS -> CR

There are two observations that we can make about the first activity and its behaviourist theoretical underpinning, and they are all a function of its adherence to a strict notion of positivism. First, the acquisition of the L2 is treated as discrete ‘appropriation’. In other words, the L2 acquisition is conceptualised as a kind of mathematical function: L2 goes in, comprehension comes out. Acquisition happens on one plane of existence. Behaviourists might argue that memorisation leads to a process behaviourists label ‘generalisation’, which means that wrote-learned words should come to be associated with broader contexts of communication, but as Louw & Edwards (Louw, 1993: 231) mention, it is not clear whether generalisation is as regular and predictable as behaviourists claim.

Second, the substance of the L2 to be learned is treated in a formalist manner. It is treated as form without content. In other words, the L2 is treated in almost perfect abstraction, within any regard being paid to the kinds of contexts in which one would use the language. A possible example of this is the complete lack of ability of the memorisation activity to help the learner understand the pragmatics that may be involved in communicating meaning using the words.

The fundamental basis of both of these observed problems with the memorisation activity is that its positivistic, behaviourist underpinning posits a view of the human mind and its learning that is passive and ‘contemplative’. It is certainly possible for a behaviourist to maintain that language is a dynamic and evolving human construction, but the learning process that they advocate asserts that language is a monolithic, static body of data that is ready and able to be abstracted and appropriated formalistically.

In this connection we can recall part of Marx’s Theses on Feuerbach: The chief defect of all materialism up to now … is that the object, reality, what we apprehend through our senses, is understood only in the form of the subject or contemplation; but not as sensuous human activity, as practice, … (Ilyenkov, 1977: 224) (Ilyenkov’s emphasis).

What this meant was that

[people were] considered the passive side of the subject-object relation, as the determined member of this inter-relation. Furthermore, man was abstracted here from the combination of social relations and transformed into an isolated individual. The [human]-environment relations were therefore interpreted as individual to all the rest, to everything that lay outside the individual brain and existed independently of it (Ilyenkov, 1977: 225).

But, crucially,

outside the individual, and independently of his will and consciousness, there existed not only nature but also the social historical environment, the world of things created by [humanity’s] labour, and the system of relations between [person] and [person], developed in the labour process. In other words, not only did nature by itself (‘in itself’ [to use Kantian terminology]) lie outside the individual, but also humanised nature, altered by labour (Ilyenkov, 1977: 225).

The social constructivist underpinning behind the second activity seeks to capture and help learners engage with the social historical environment embodied within language, within the L2. Although the activity is limited to the classroom environment, which is artificial and abstract, it can be hoped that the practical execution of the ideas underpinning the activity will lead to the development of skills by the learners that will enable them to go out into the real world and use language the way it really works: as a cultural tool, an artefact that mediates personal access to objective reality.

The advantage of the second activity over the first is that it relies on the active participation and involvement of the learner. By conversing with peers and the teacher, the learner taps into language’s function as a human cultural artefact. Language is a practical, social activity that requires more than just individualised, abstract memorisation. It requires grounding in concrete reality in order to be truly meaningful. In a sense it is ‘situated’ in different cultural activities that require active participation, not passive memorisation (Brown, 1989).

3.0.0 – Conclusion #

In this paper, two different activities with very different approaches to language acquisition were compared and contrasted. The first activity, based in positivistic behaviourist theoretical assumptions about learning and the mind, treated language as an abstract, individualised experience. This position on language acquisition was argued to be philosophically wanting, lacking in substantiation in concrete evidence, and normatively unappealing. It was argued that the second activity rectified the shortcomings of the first. It viewed language as a body of human cultural signs and understandings that mediated subjective interaction with objective reality. Language in this sense was argued to be dynamic, and the underpinnings of the second activity’s approach was argued to be more powerful in both a descriptive and explanatory sense.

4.0.0 – References #

Brown, J. S., Collins, A., & Duguid, P. (1989). Situated cognition and the culture of learning. Educational Researcher, 18, 32-42.
Ilyenkov, E. V. (1977). Dialectical logic: essays on its history and theory. (H. C. Creighton, Trans.) Moscow: Progress Publishers. Retrieved from http://www.marxists.org/archive/ilyenkov/works/essays/index.htm
Leontev, A. N. (1977). Activity and Consciousness. In Philosophy in the USSR: Problems of Dialectical Materialism (pp. 180-202). Moscow: Progress Publishers. Retrieved April 5, 2014, from http://www.marxists.org/archive/leontev/works/1977/leon1977.htm
Louw, D., & Edwards, D. (Eds.). (1993). Psychology: an introduction for students in southern Africa. Johannesburg: Lexicon.
Lukacs, G. (1971). What is Orthodox Marxism? In G. Lukacs, History and Class Consciousness (pp. 1-26). Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.

Cuba: How Workers and Peasants Made the Revolution

Mon, 29 Oct 2018 07:58:16 +0000

By Chris Slee

Some left groups claim that the Cuban revolution was made by a few hundred guerrilla fighters, and that the working class played no role.

For example, Ruth Braham, writing in Socialist Alternative magazine, claims that the Cuban Revolution ‘’entailed a mere 800 armed guerillas seizing power, again on behalf of a majority but without their active involvement’’.

Similar views have been expressed by members of the International Socialist Organisation. For example, Jonathan Sherlock says:

If you believe that Cuba is somehow socialist, however distorted, then you believe that is is possible to bring about socialism via several hundred guerrilla fighters coming from the mountains at the right moment and seizing power. You will believe … that socialism can be brough about without working-class struggle.

In reality, ‘‘working-class struggle’’ played an essential role in the Cuban revolution. The workers, peasants and students played an active role, before, during and after the insurrection which destroyed the Batista dictatorship in January 1959. The overthrow of the regime was not simply a matter of guerrilla fighters marching into cities. Fidel Castro called a general strike which developed into a mass popular uprising during the first few days of January 1959. The subsequent transformation of property relations was the result of ongoing mass struggles by the workers and peasants.

But before discussing this in detail I will give some historical background to the Cuban revolution.

Spanish Colonialism #

Cuba was ‘‘discovered’’ by Colombus in 1492, and claimed as a Spanish colony. The indigenous population was treated with great brutality, including the horrific massacres. They were dispossessed of their land. Many died of hunger and disease. The majority of the indigenous population of Cuba was wiped out.

Havana became a major port and military centre for the Spanish empire. Ships taking the plundered treasures of central and south America back to Span gathered in Havana before crossing the Atlantic.

Sugar plantations were developed using slave labour. The slaves, who were brought in from Africa, were treated with great brutality. Many died from exhaustion, from industrial accidents in the sugar mills, or from disease, or were killed by their owners, often as punishment for trivial offences. A continual inflow of new slaves from Africa was required to replace those who died. Historian Hugh Thomas speaks of ‘’the need for replacement of 8% to 10% each year’’.

During the 1840s there was a series of slave revolts in various plantations and other worksites across Cuba. The revolts were crushed, but caused some plantation owners to consider replacing slavery by wage labour.

There was widespread discontent with Spanish rule, even amongst the upper classes of Cuban society. In 1868 a war of independence broke out. One of the leaders was Carlos Manuel de Cespedes, a plantation owner who freed his slaves and enrolled them in his small army. Some rebel commanders, such as Antonio Maceo, raided plantations and freed the slaves.

But the rebel movement was not united on he policy of freeing slaves. The more conservative sections of the movement were reluctant to authorise Maceo to take the war into the western half of Cuba, where most of the sugar plantations were situated, and the movement remained on the defensive in the east for most of the ten years of the war. In 1878 an armistice was signed between the Spanish colonial government and most of the rebel leaders. Maceo refused to accept it, but his forces were defeated, and he went into exile.

In November 1879 the Spanish prime minister announced that slavery would be abolished in Cuba as from 1888. Many slave owners, believing that ‘‘free’’ labour would be cheaper than maintaining slaves, freed thm before the deadline. Once the slaves were free, plantation owners were no longer obliged to feed them all year round. Instead they could hire workers for a few months in the busy season, leaving them to fend for themselves at other times.

A new war of independence broke out in 1895, inspired by Jose Marti. Jailed as a teenager and then exiled from Cuba by the Spanish colonial authorities, Marti built a movement for independence and democracy amongst Cubans living overseas, particularly Cuban workers living in the United States. While campaigning for independence from Spain, he foresaw the danger of the emerging US imperialism, which aimed to dominate Latin America. He saw the need for Latin American unity to counter this.

Marti succeeded in re-uniting many veterans of the first Cuban war of independence, including Maceo, and returned to Cuba in 1895 to renew the struggle. Neither the rebels nor the Spanish foces were able to win a decisive victory. Marti and Maceo were both killed in the fighting.

In 1898 the United States stepped in, supposedly to support the Cuban independence fighters. But after defeating the Spanish forced, the US ordered the independence fighters to disarm. A military government was established in January 1899, headed by a US general.

US Neocolonialism #

Cuba was ruled by the US military government until 1902, when formal independence was granted. However the US retained the ability to intervene in Cuba, not only economically and politically but also militarily.

A constitutional convention was elected in 1900. However the convention delegates were pressured to accept severe limitations on Cuba’s sovereignty. In 1901 the US congress passed the Platt amendment, which proclaimed the intention of the US to intervene in Cuban affairs whenever it saw fit, and to maintain bases in Cuba. The constitutional convention was pressured to accept these US dictates, and to include them as an appendix to the new Cuban constitution.

The delegates were told that the US army would not be withdrawn from Cuba unless they agreed to accept the Platt amendment. They were also promised that if they did agree, Cuban sugar would gain preferential access to the US market.

The US formally handed over power to the new Cuban government in May 1902. Guantanamo Bay and Bahia Honda were leased to the US as military bases. (Bahia Honda was given up in 1912, in return for an expansion in the size of the Guantanamo lease.)

In 1906 there was a revolt against the government of president Tomas Estrada Palma, who has been ‘’re-elected’’ without opposition in fraudulent elections in December 1905. Estrada called for US military aid to suppress the revolt. Two thousand US marines landed near Havana in September 1906. The US set up a new ‘‘provisional’’ government headed by a US judge, Charles Magoon.

In 1909 the US once again handed over government to an elected Cuban president. However, the US retained the ability to impose its will on Cuba through economic and diplomatic pressure and the threat of renewed military intervention. The US literally used ‘‘gunboat diplomacy’’ whenever this was felt to be necessary. On January 6, 1921, following protests against fraudulent elections conducted by president Menocal, the US sent General Enoch Crowder to Havana in the battleship Minnesota. According to historical Hugh Thomas, ‘‘He [Crowder] kept his headquarters on the Minnesota, issuing recommendation to Menocal which were in effect orders’’.

Thus while Cuba wa formally independent and democratic (except that women could not vote), independence and democracy were to a large extent fictitious, since the US could veto or overturn any decision by the Cuban government.

This situation was conducive to a high level of corruption in the political system. Politicians took bribes in return for government contracts, for pardons, etc.

There were periodic outbreaks of protest and rebellion. Most of these rebellions were crushed. But protests by university students in 1922-23 won a victory. Under the leadership of Julio Antonio Mella, secretary of the newly formed University Students Federation (FEU), the students campaigned against corruption in the university. They were successful: a hundred corrupt ‘‘professors’’ who had been given fictitious jobs at the university because they were cronies of the president were sacked. Furthermore, a system of election of the rector by students, staff and ex-students was introduced.

In 1924 Gerardo Machado was elected president. His regime was extremely corrupt and highly repressive. Trade unionists and student activists were murdered. Mella, who had led the student protests in 1922-23, and who had become a founder of the Cuban Communist Party in 1925, was murdered in Mexico in 1929 by an agent of Machado. Political parties were suppressed, and Machado, a former amry officer, used the army as his main instrument of rule.

1933 Revolution #

Many middle class people hoped for US intervention to remove Machado. A group called ABC, comprised mainly of students, carried out bomb attacks with the aim of showing that Machado could not ensure stability, thereby provoking US intervention to remove him.

Meanwhile the Communist Party was gaining strength, despite the repression. In 1930, 200 000 workers participated in a political strike against Machado. A communist-led sugar workers strike closed down many sugar mills in Cuba in early 1933.

In early August 1933 there were strikes throughout Havana, culminating in a general strike on August 12 and the flight of Machado from the country. The US ambassador Sumner Welles tried to organise a new pro-US government to replace him. Welles succeeded in having Carlos Manuel de Cespedes, a conservative diplomat (and the grandson of the independence leader of the same name), declared president; but a few weeks later a coup was carried out by a group of sergeants in the Cuban army, in alliance with students from the University of Havana. Fulgenico Batista emerged as leader of the sergeants. He formed a provisional government headed by a university professor, Ramon Grau San Martin. Batista proclaimed himself a colonel and made himself head of the army.

The Grau San Martin government, which included a prominent former student leader Antonio Guiteras, introduced significant reforms such as the eight-hour work day, a minimum wage for workers, land reform, university autonomy and the repudiation of Cuba’s foreign debt.

But the army under Batista remained a repressive force. On September 29, for example, it attacked a memorial rally for Julio Antonio Mella and sacked the headquarters of the National Labour Confederation.

The US withheld recognition from the Grau government, and encouraged Batista to carry out a coup, which he did in January 1934. For the next six years Batista, as army commander, was the effective leader of the country, although there was a series of other people holding the title of president.

While Batista’s January 1934 coup marked a turn to the right, it did not mean the immediate and total reversal of all the gains of the revolution. Batista still claimed to be a revolutionary. While he was willing to repress militant workers, he also wanted to win popular support, which required him to support some progressive reforms. In some ways, Batista in his early years was comparable to third world bourgeois nationalist leaders of military origin, such as Peron and Nasser.

In April 1937 the CP characterised Batista as a fascist, and tried (without success) to form a popular front with bourgeois anti-Batista groups. But by 1938 the CP had changed its policy and made a deal with Batista. The Communist Party was legalised and allowed to reorganise the union movement under its control, resulting in the creation of the CTC (Cuban Confederation of Workers). In return the CP supported Batista, resolving to ‘‘adopt a more positive attitude towards Colonel Batista, compelling him as a result to take up even more positively democratic atttudes’’. In 1940 the CP supported Batista in the presidential elections.

The CP’s deal with Batista was denounced by radical bourgeois democrats such as Eduardo Chibas. It contributed to the hostility towards the CP that continued to exist amongst a lot of radical activists, including many members of the July 26 Movement in the 1950s.

In 1939 a Constituent Assembly was elected. The union movement held demonstrations to demand the inclusion of workers rights in the new constitution. The constitution adopted in 1940 included provisions for a 44-hour week and a month’s paid holidays for workers, and restrictions on the ability of employers to sack workers, amongst other progressive measures. These provisions were, however, implemented very unevenly in practice.

Batista was elected president in 1940, with support from the CP, but also from many wealthy people who feared (wrongly) that his opponent Grau would carry out a social revolution.

Two CP members became ministers in Batista’s government. In 1944 the CP changes its name to the Popular Socialist Party. With its expectation of ‘’lasting peace for many generations’’ after the second world war, the PSP appeared to have abandoned the Marxist understanding of imperialism and class struggle.

The 1944 presidential election was won by Grau. Batista, who did not contest this election, left office a very wealthy man as a result of corruption, and went to live in Miami. But Grau’s government, which included many former radicals of the 1930s, turned out to be even more corrupt than Batista’s.

The issue of corruption led to a split in Grau’s Cuban Revolutionary Party (also known as the Autenticos), with Eduardo Chibas setting up a new party, the Cuban Peoples Party (commonly known as the Ortodoxos) in 1947 on an anti-corruption platform.

With the onset of the Cold War, the Grau government launched an offensive against communists in the unions. Communist union leaders were murdered by pro-government thugs. From 1947 to 1951 the CTC was split, with two labour federations both claiming the name CTC. On July 29, 1947 the Minister of Labour Carlos Prio took over the CTC headquarters by force and handed it over to Autentico union officials.

Eventually the PSP-led federation gave up its attempt to maintain a seperate structure. Some of its unions applied to join the Autentico-led federation, while other unions were dissolved and encouraged their members to join unions affiliated to the rival federation.

The PSP has been considerably weakened, but nevertheless retained a following in some sections of the working class. According to one estimate, ‘‘25% of Cuba’s organised workers remained pro-communist, and of 120 sugar mill locals, the communists retained control of 40’’.

In 1948 Prio won the presidential election. Batista returned from Miami and won election as a senator.

The Prio regime was highly corrupt. Eduardo Chibas regularly denounced corruption on his weekly radio program, and the Ortodoxos won growing support, especially amongst poor people and amongst the youth. But in 1951, Chibas committed suicide, depriving the Ortodoxos of their most popular leader.

The May 1952 elections were expected to be a three way contest between the Autenticos (whose presidential candidate was Carlos Hevia), the Ortodoxos (whose candidate was Roberto Agramonte, following the suicide of Eduardo Chibas), and Batista. But on the night of March 9-10, Batista carried out a coup.

The 1952 Coup #

Although Batista was no longer army commander, he still had the support of many (though not all) army officers. Batista and his supporters quickly took over Havana’s main army base and sent tanks to surround the presidential palace. Prio fled to the Mexican embassy.

The CTC called a general strike in protest at the coup. However Batista promised the CTC leadership that he would respect the existing labour laws, and the strike was soon called off. CTC leader Eusebio Mujal (who had collaborated with the Autentico government in ousting the PSP from the leadership of the CTC) became one of Batista’s closest collaborators, and helped suppress opposition to the dictatorship within the unions.

The Struggle Against Batista #

Batista’s coup initially met little resistance. On March 10, 1952 there was a protest rally at Havana University, involving a few hundred students and workers.

Opposition to the dictatorship grew. Students were amongst the first to take action, holding numerous rallies and demonstrations throughout the years of Batista’s dictatorship. On January 15, 1953 a student, Ruben Batista, was fatally wounded by police at a demonstration. He died on February 13. His funeral the following day became a large, militant demonstration of repudiation of the regime.

Groups of activitsts began to make plans for the overthrow of Batista. Fidel Castro was the leader of one such group, sometimes referred to as the Youth of the Centenary (a reference to the centenary of Jose Marti’s birth). This was the group that carried out the attack on the Moncada barracks on July 26, 1953. The aim was to spark a nationwide insurrection which would overthrow Batista’s regime. However it was quickly crushed. many of the participants were murdered by the army and police, while others including Castro were captured and jailed. Castro and others who participated in the Moncada attack later went on to form the July 26 Movement.

Another militant group formed in the aftermath of Batista’s coup was the the National Revolutionary Movement (MNR), led by Rafael Garcia Barcena, a university professor who had been a radical activist in the 1920s and 1930s. This group planned to lead a student march on an army camp in April 1953, with the aim of persuading the soldiers to rise against Batista. However the plan was foiled by mass arrests. Garcia Barcena was amongst those arrested. Some supporters of the MNR who escaped arrest continued trying to build a revolutionary organisation. Many of them later joined the July 26 Movement.

Another group, formed in 1955, was the Revolutionary Directorate, led by Jose Antonio Echevarria, the president of the University Students Federation. The Directorate, which mainly comprised students, carried out an attack on the presidential palace in March 1957, in which Echevarria died.

The PSP was very slow to join the struggle against Batista. According to Hugh Thomas, the PSP leaders ‘‘denounced Batista but were slow to do anything more’’. THe PSP denounced Castro’s attack on the Moncada barracks as a ‘‘putsch’’. The PSP remained legal until November 1953, when it was banned, apparently became of US pressure rather than because Batista viewed it as a serious threat. The ban was not enforced very strictly.

Some members of the PSP and Socialist Youth opposed the party’s conservative policy, but it was not until 1958 that the policy changed fundamentally.

Fidel Castro #

Fidel Castro, the son of a rich landowner, was a student at Havana University between 1945 and 1950. He later said:

At university, which I arrived at with only a spirit of rebelliousness and some elementary ideas about justice, I became a revolutionary, I became a Marxist-Leninist, and I acquired sentiments and values which I hold today and for which I have struggled throughout my life.

He became active in student politics. He was elected by his fellow students as a class representative, and became increasingly involved in a struggle for control of the FEU between supporters and opponents of the Grau government. The FEU leadership, which at the time was pro-government, at one stage threatened Castro with death if he set foot on campus. He defied these threats and his opponents backed off.

Castro, influenced by the ideas of Jose Marti, was interested in democratic and anti-imperialist struggles throughout Latin America. He became chairperson of the FEU’s committee for Dominican democracy, which campaigned against the dictatorship of Trujillo in the Dominican Republic. He did not confine himself to propaganda against Trujillo, but when he heard about a proposed expedition of armed Cuban and Dominican democacy fighters to overthrow the dictator, he joined up and participated in military training on an island off Cuba’s coast. The expedition was a fiasco, but the experience helped him develop his idea on how to carry out an armed insurrection against a dictatorship.

Castro became involved in efforts to build links with students in other Latin American countries, with the aim of establishing a Latin America-wide student federation. In pursuit of this goal, he visited Venezuela, Panama, and Colombia. He happened to be in Colombia in 1948, at the time when that country’s most popular political leader, Jorge Eliecer Gaitan, was murdered. This provoked a popular uprising in Bogota. Crowds stormed police stations and seized weapons. Castro joined in the uprising.

Castro graduated as a lawyer in 1950. However, practising law was not his main interest.

While at university he had joined the Cuban Peoples Party (also known as the Ortodoxos). Over time, as Castro studied Marxism, he began to recognise the limitations of the Ortodoxo Party. Nevertheless, he maintained links with it, became many of its members and supporters were radical-minded workers, students and poor people, whose support Castro wanted to win.

Castro was chosen to be a parliamentary candidate of the Ortodoxo Party in elections planned for May 1952. (These elections were cancelled after Batista’s coup of March 1952)

When the elections were cancelled, Castro began preparing for an armed uprising. He recruited 1200 young people, mainly drawn from the Ortodoxo youth, and gave them some very elementary military training.

Castro says that during this period, he was a ‘‘professional revolutionary … I was devoting my full time to the revolution’’. As a lawyer, he defended some poor people in court, but did not charge them a fee. He was financially supported by his comrades in the revolutionary movement.

During this period Castro organised ‘‘a small circle of Marxist studies’’ for some of his closest collaborators.

The Attack on the Moncada Barracks #

On July 25, 1953 Castro called on 160 of the members of his group to gather at a farm outside Santiago, Cuba’s second-largest city. Early next morning they carried out an attack on the Moncada barracks in Santiago, as well as on a barracks in the city of Bayamo.

Castro hoped that with the advantage of surprise his forces would take the Moncada barracks with little or no bloodshed, then use the army’s own internal communications channels to promote rebellion, or at least cause confusion, among soldiers around the country. He also planned to issue a call for a general strike against Batista. He was hopeful that the combination of a general strike and rebellion by sections of the army would be able to overthrow Batista.

The attacks failed. Some of the attackers died in the fighting; others were murdered by Batista’s forces after being captured. Others, including Castro, were taken prisoner and put on trial.

Castro’s Ideas #

There is a commonly held view in the Trotskyist movement that Castro was just a radical bourgeois democrat at the time of the struggle against Batista. Even Joseph Hansen, one of the best Trotskyist writers on Cuba, asssumes Castro was not a Marxist prior to 1959.

However, Castro was very much influenced by Marxist at the time of the attack on the Moncada barracks. In his 1985 interview with Frei Betto, Castro stated:

I had already acquired a Marxist outlook when we attacked the Moncada garrison. I had fairly well-developed revolutionary ideas, acquired while I was university through my contact with revolutionary literature.

This revolutionary literature included some of the writings of Marx, Engels and Lenin. Castro added that

my contribution to the Cuban revolution consists of having synthesised Marti’s ideas and those of Marxism-Leninism and of having applied them consistently in our struggle.

Castro explained his decision not to join the PSP, but to work initially in the framework of the Ortodoxo Party, as follows:

I saw that the Cuban communists were isolated due to the pervasive atmosphere of imperialism, McCarthyism and reactionary politics. No matter what they did they remained isolated …

So, I worked out a strategy for carrying out a deep social revolution – but gradually, by stages …

I realised that the masses were decisive, that the masses were extremely angry and discontented. They did not understand the social essence of the problem; they were confused. They attributed unemployment, poverty, and the lack of schools, hospitals, job opportunities and housing – almost everything – to administrative corruption, embezzlement and the perversity of the politicians.

The Cuban Peoples Party harnessed much of that discontent, but they did not particularly blame the capitalist system and imperialism for it …

The people were confused, but they were also desperate and able to fight … The people had to be led along the road of revolution by stages, step by step, until they achieved full political consciousness and confidence in their future.

I worked out all these ideas by reading and studying Cuban history, and the Cuban personality and distinguishing characteristics, and Marxism.

Trial and Imprisonment #

Castro used his defence speech at his trial for thr attack on the Moncada barracks to explain the goals for which he was fighting. The speech, later published under the title History Will Absolve Me!, outlined his program.

Castro called for the ‘‘restoration of civil liberties and political democracy’’, which had bee suppressed by Batista’s coup. He also advocated granting land to landless tenant farmers, making this land ‘’not mortgageable and not transferrable’’. For wage workers, Castro proposed ‘’the right to share 30% of the profits of all large industrial, mercantile and mining companies, including the sugar mills’’. He advocated ‘’the confiscation of all holdings and ill-gotten gains of those who had ommitted frauds during previous regimes, as well as the holdings and ill-gotten gains of their legatees and heirs’’. To implement this, he advocated special revolutionary courts to look into the records of all corporations and banks.

Castro advocated the ‘’nationalisation of the electric power trust and the telephone trust [which were US-owned], refund to the people of the illegal [excessive] rates these companies have carged , and payment to the treasury of all taxes brazenly evaded in the past’’.

He also advocated setting a maximum amount of land to be held by each type of agricultural enterprise, and redistributing the remainder amongst peasant families; promoting agricultural cooperatives; cutting all house rents in half; and building new houses for city residents.

This was not a socialist program, but a radical democratic program. Castro later said that if the program had been more radical, ‘’the revolutionary movement against Batista would not have obtained the breadth that it achieved and that made victory possible’’.

Castro was sent to prison on the Isle of Pines, where has was able to read the writings of Marx and Lenin much more extensively, and deepen his understanding of Marxist theory.

Meanwhile Castro’s supporters outside the prison defied Batista’s repressive laws by publishing History Will Absolve Me! and distributing tens of thousands of copies. They built a mass movement demanding freedom for all political prisoners, including the Moncada veterans.

The July 26 Movement #

Fidel Castro and 18 other Moncada veterans were released from prison under an amnesty on 15 May 1955. Castro immediately set to work creating a new revolutionary organisation, the July 26 Movement. He aimed to united those willing to carry out revolutionary struggle against the dictatorship, and succeeded in winning the support of many, including veterans of the the MNR, such as Armando Hart and Faustino Perez, as well as Frank Pais, who led a revolutionary organisation based in Oriente province in eastern Cuba.

Castro continued to believe in the need for an armed insurrection to overthrow Batista. Nevertheless, before launching an armed struggle, he tested out the possibilities for peaceful methods of struggle.

The government soon showed that it had not changed. It banned a proposed mass rally. It banned Fidel Castro from appearing on radio and television. It closed down a newspaper that printed revelations about the army’s murder of prisoners following the attack on the Moncada barracks. It began once again making mass arrests of opponents of the regime. And it began again to murder its opponents. Jorge Agostini, an army officer who had resigned following Batista’s coup and become a campaigner against his regime, was murdered in June 1955 by Batista’s thugs.

After two months of growing repression, it was clear that the removal of the Batista regime by peaceful means was not possible. On July 7 Castro left Cuba and went to Mexico. There he has his followers carried out military training in preparation for a return to Cuba to overthrow the dictatorship. While in Mexico Castro met Che Guevara and persuaded hiim to join the planned expedition.

In August 1955 Castro issued a manifesto containing a 15-point program of reforms, including distribution of land among peasant families, nationalisation of public services, mass education, and industrialisation.

Meanwhile in Cuba itself the July 26 Movement was being built as an underground organisation throughout the country. Armando Hart, a key leader ot this work, comments that:

All over the country, the organisation of the Movement continued to advance. In the weeks preceding the Granma [which reached Cuba on December 2, 1956] there was no municipality or corner of the island without its underground leadership and cell.

In May 1956 the J26M began publishing an illegal newspaper, initially called Aldabonazo, then Revolucion. The first editorial said:

For the July 26 Movement, only those who aim at something more than simply toppling the dictatorship are capable of really eliminating it … The July 26 Movement asserts that the current government is not the cause but the result of the republic’s fundamental crisis … It would hardly be worthwhile to confront the dictatorial, corrupt and mediocre regime we suffer without aiming for a revolutionary transformation of the moral, political, economic and social causes that made possible the criminal act committed by the seditious group (i.e. Batista’s coup).

Thus the J26M aimed at radical social change. But most of its activists did not regard themselves as Marxists. They were radical democrats. They were concerned about social justice, not just formal political democacy. But in the beginning most did not have a clear socialist perspective.

Over time, many of them evolved towards socialist ideas. But some did not. Some later turned against the revolution as it began to enter the socialist stage.

Fidal Castro, the central leader of the J26M, was a Marxist, but did not say so publicly. Some other leaders such as Raul Castro and Che Guevara were also Marxists. But the J26M also included people who were strongly anti-communist. US author Julia Sweig notes that

Anti-communism within the 26th of July cadre itself was common, both because of the Cold War climate of the 1950s and because the PSP, officially banned in 1952, had a reputation for having collaborated with Batista from the 1930s.

Strategy of the J26M #

While the program of the J26M was bourgeois-democratic, its methods of struggle were militant. The J26M’s perspective was to build up towards a general strike and popular insurrection. The second manifesto of the July 26 Movement to the Cuban people, issued in 1956, called for workers to be organised from the bottom in revolutionary groups in order to declare a general strike.

Fidel Castro was strongly committed to this perspective, and spoke or wrote about it many times. In a message dated December 14, 1957, Castro said

The workers section of the July 26 Movement is involved in organising strike committees in every work centre and every sector of industry, together with opposition elements from all organisations that are prepared to join the strike …

Che Guevara was also enthusiastic about the goal of a general strike. He wrote that

The revolutionary general strike is the definitive weapon, the intercontinental rocket of the peoples.

But when the July 26 Movement was launched in 1955, it was still a long way from being able to put into practice the plan for a revolutionary general strike. This was due both to its still limited roots in the working class, and to the political limitations of many of its cadres.

Strikes #

Mujal’s control of the trade union movement made it difficult for the J26M to build a strong base in the unions. Nevertheless the J26M did participate in strike action and strike solidarity where possible.

In September 1955 there was a series of bank strikes led by opponents of Batista, including the J26M member Enrique Hart, who was arrested and kept in prison until after the strikes were over.

In December 1955 there was a strike of over 200 000 sugar workers, in protest at a government move that would have reduced their wages. Strike leaders included members of he PSP and the J26M, and even some pro-Mujal union officials who felt the need to support the strike to maintain some support in the rank and file.

The strike received broad solidarity, including from the students. According to J26M leader Armando Hart,

A number of towns were virtually taken over by the strikers and supporters. Virtually all economic activity in these towns was paralysed, leading them to be termed ‘dead cities’.

Batista was forced to concede to the striker’s demands.

Castro Returns #

Fidel Castro and 81 supporters set sail for Cuba on 24 November, 1956 in the yacht Granma, reaching the Cuban coast (later than expected) on December 2.

On November 30, the J26M underground carried out armed attacks on army and police buildings in Santiago. There was also industrial action by some workers in Oriente province, including a 24 hour strike in the town of Guantanamo. These actions were intended to coincide with the landing of the Granma, thereby distracting Batista’s army from attacking Castro’s foces before they could reach the relative safety of the mountains.

However, the Santiago uprising was crushed before the Granma reached the Cuban coast. Most of Castro’s fighters were killed or captured shortly after the landing. Castro and a few others survived, and a guerilla front was established in the mountains of the Sierra Maestra.

The guerilla force gradually expanded. J26M activists, including survivors of the Santiago uprising, came from the cities to join the guerillas. The peasants increasingly supported the guerillas, and some joined the Rebel Army. But it did not become simply a peasant army. It included a large proportion of workers, including both agricultural labourers from the sugar and coffee plantations and workers who had come from the cities to join the guerillas.

The J26M continued to build a strong urban underground network, which sent supplies, money, and recruits for the guerillas; carried out propaganda in the cities; organised strikes and protests; and carried out acts of sabotage and armed attacks on Batista’s police and army in urban areas.

The J26M urban underground organised protests against police murders. For example, on January 2, 1957 the body of William Soler, a teenager, was found in the streets of Santiago. He had been murdered by the police after being arrested. Underground activist Armando Hart describes what happened:

This crime caused great popular indignation, and Santiago became a boiling pot. The idea was raised of holding a women’s demonstration along Enramada Street at the beginning of 1957, and we all went to work organising it. It was an event that showed the strength the July 6 movement already had among the masses. The men lined the sidewalks, and the women marched through the streets. There were huge banners denoucning the intolerable situation and demanding there be no more murders.

The J26M also used public protests, or the threat of them, to prevent the police and army murdering captured activists. When Armando Hart and two others were arrested by the army in January 1958, the J26M took over a radio station and broadcast the news so the army could not kill them secretly in a fake ‘‘battle’’, as they had been planning to do.

Preparing for a General Strike #

The idea of a general strike was a central tenet of the J26M strategy. However the first attempts to actually implement this perspective were unsuccessful or only partially successful.

The J26M had only a weak presence in the union movement in Havana at the time of the Granma landing, despite widespread sympathy amongst workers for its goals. The movement’s influence in the working class was stronger in Santiago, and in Oriente province (of which Santiago was the capital), in part for historical reasons (according to Armando Hart, ‘’the population there had been radically Fidelista since the days of Moncada’’), and in part because of the consistent political work of Frank Pais and his comrades. There was also a better relationship between the J26M and the PSP in Santiago than in Havana. By mid-1957, according to US author Julia Sweig, ‘‘Local labour cells [in Oriente] had already carried out mini-shutdowns, and walkouts were operating under a real structure …’’

The Frente Obrero Nacional (National Workers Front) was set up by the J26M in 1957. Its role was to prepare for the general strike. But it was still far from being strong enough to achieve this goal. It remained weak in Havana.

The CTC was still firmly controlled by Mujal, while the PSP, which had a following amongst sections of the working class, was hostile to the J26M. This hostility was reciprocated. Many of the leaders of the J26M urban underground were so hostile to the PSP that they did not want to cooperate with it in any way. The situation was bettr in Santiago than in Havana.

Attempted General Strikes #

There were two attempts at a nationwide general strike before the eventual victorious strike of January 1959.

On July 30, 1957 Frank Pais, the leader of the J26M urban underground in Santiago, Cuba’s second largest city, was murdered by the police. This triggered a spontaneous strike in the city. All stores in Santiago closed in protest. Tens of thousands followed the funeral cortege to the cemetary.

According to Armando Hart, a leader of the urban underground, ‘‘Beginning on that day, a powerful strike movement broke out in Santiago and throughout Oriente’’. However attempts to spread the strike action across Cuba had only limited success

The J26M national leadership called a general strike for August 5, 1957. The strike was in general not effective in Havana, though electrical plant workers, telephone workers, bank employees and several bus lines did go on strike.

The J26M called another general strike in April 1958. This strike failed. According to Sweig:

At eleven in the morning of April 9, 1958, the 26th July Movement interrupted Havana and Santiago radio stations to broadcast a call for a general strike. Precious few workers walked out of their jobs in the capital, where poorly armed militia attacked an armoury in Old Havana and other targets. Almost without exception, police gunfire eliminated the commandos. Sabotage to the city’s main circuit board caused temporary blackouts from Old Havana to the Vedado district. By late afternoon though, most bus routes had resumed their normal schedules, businesses and banks had reopened, and workers had completed their afternoon shifts. According to one report, not one factory or business of Havana had shut down as a result of the worker walkouts, and the movement’s militia took the brunt of police violence deployed to counter their sabotage …

In Santiago de Cuba workers did strike, but by afternoon employers had already begun to replace them … Fearing that striking workers might lose their jobs without having accomplished anything, on April 10 Vilma Espin issued a ‘‘back-to-work’’ order in Santiago and notified Havana to call off the strike.

The failure of the strike showed that the J26M on its own did not have sufficient organised support in the working class to call a nationwide strike. The J26M had called the strike without consulting other organisations, including most importantly the PSP. The PSP opposed the strike, saying it was premature and had not been properly built.

J26M and PSP #

The mutual hostility between the J26M and the PSP was due to two factors: on the one hand, the cold war anti-communist attitudes that prevailed amongst many J26M activists; on the other hand, the Stalinist politics of the PSP and its very dubious historical role in the revolutionary struggle in Cuba. In the 1930s the CP had made an alliance with Batista, and between 1940 and 1944 had participated in his government. In 1953 the PSP condemned the attack on the Moncada barracks as ‘‘putschism’’ and ‘‘petty bourgeois adventurism’’.

The PSP was slow to join struggle against Batista. In October 1956, shortly before the Granma set out for Cuba, the PSP sent emissaries to Castro in Mexico warning him that conditions weren’t right for an armed struggle in Cuba. According to Jon Lee Anderson, the author of a biography of Che Guevara,

they tried to win Fidel’s agreement to join forces in a gradual campaign of civil dissent leading up to an armed insurrection – in which the PSP would also participate. He refused and told them he would go ahead with his plans, but hoped the party and its militants would support him nonetheless by carrying out uprisings upon his rebel army’s arrival in Cuba.

However, according to J. P. Morray, a US leftist writer generally sympathetic towards the PSP:

Public declarations of the Cuban Communist Party as late as July 1957 showed that it opposed his [Castro’s] insurrectionary tactics; and not until February 1958 did it acknowledge the utility of the guerilla struggle.

The PSP was internally divided over the question of collaboration with the J26M. The party’s line began to change in late 1957 and early 1958. In February 1958 it expressed support for Castro’s guerillas while condemning the tactics of the J26M urban underground. The PSP said that the latter reied too much on militia sabotage, fighting the police, etc., rather than winning the support of workers to take action themselves. These criticisms had considerable validity, especially in Havana.

By early 1958 a number of PSP members had come to the guerilla zones and joined the Rebel Army, in particular Che Guevara’s and Raul Castro’s columns.

Then the J26M announced its intention to call a strike in April 1958, the PSP expressed their willingness to support it. However when the J26M urban underground rejected any involvement by the PSP in organising the strike, the PSP ignored the strike call. Some PSP members reportedly dobbed in J26M strike organisers to the police.

Why Did the April 1958 Strike Fail? #

After the defeat of the strike, there was discussion within the J26M about the reasons for the failure. At a meeting of the J26M National Directorate, held in the Sierra Maestra liberated zone on May 3, 1958, there was detailed discussion of the reasons for the defeat. Some of the key leaders of the J26M urban underground were criticised, by Che Guevara amongst others, for sectarianism in refusing to work with the PSP. They were also criticised for the tactics which they used in trying to build the strike.

The J26M urban underground had tried to make up for its lack of deep roots in the working class in Havana, and its resulting lack of ability to organise workers to take a collective decision to go on strike, by using its militia. The theory held by at least some sections of the urban underground was that gun battles in the streets between the police and the J26M militia would give workers an excuse to stay home from work. The rational was that workers wanted to strike byt were scared of being sacked or arrested if they did. The street fighting would give them a pretext for staying away from work without openly admitting to their employer and the police that they supported the strike.

Faustino Perez, a key leader of the urban underground, outlined some of the mistakes made in organising the strike in a letter he wrote in October 1958. One mistake was that, although the J26M had announced its intention to call a general strike, the date of the strike was kept secret:

We kept the agreed-upon date a secret, supposedly for the sake of the militias’ action, and we made a fleeting annoucement at a time – 11am – when only a few housewives were listening to the radio … We caught our own cadres of the organisation by surprise … as well as the people as a whole.

According to Bonachea and San Martin, the original intention was that the strike call would be issued at noon, when many workers had gone home for their midday break (siesta). Fighting in the streeks would give them an excuse to stay at home. But in fact the strike call was issued at 11am, when most workers were still at work. Presumably the hope was that the workers would take a collective decision to go home and not come back. This seems t have happened in Santiago but not in Havana.

Carlos Rafael Rodriguez, a PSP leader who became a strong advocate of an alliance with the J26M, points out that workers had a lot to lose by going on a political strike, and hence would not do so unless they had confidence in the organisation that called the strike. They risked being sacked, and as Rodriguez points out:

the loss of a job may have signified for any of them the fall into misery, from which they might not recover for the rest of their lives, since for each employed worker there were three workers looking for a job.

This situation caused the urban workers, above all those in Havana, to demand guarantees of seriousness and organisation before they would launch themselves into a strike movement which, if it was not sufficiently prepared, would culminate in an easy defeat and irreversible misery for themselves.

In April 1958 the J26M was not yet able to give such ‘‘guarantees of seriousness and organisation’’.

Some writers have accused Fidel Castro of pressuring a reluctant urban underground leadership into calling the April 1958 strike, knowing it would be defeated, in order to discredit the urban leadership, which Castro allegedly saw as potential rivals. For example, Bonachea and San Martin assert that: ‘‘It can be stated unequivocally that Fidel Castro was responsible for the conception of the strike and its failure’’. US author Julia Sweig however, after examining the Cuban archives, shows that the reverse was the case – it was the urban leadership that persuaded Castro that the time was ripe for calling the strike. Similarly, former underground activist Armando Hart, in his book Aldabonazo, reprints a letter from Faustino Perez, a key urban underground leader, who explains that the date of the strike was set after a discussion between the Havana and Santiago leaderships.

Lessons of the April Defeat #

Following the failure of the April 1958 strike, the leadership of the July 26 Movement released that any future general strike had to be much better prepared and should only occur when the objective conditions were ripe. But they never renounced the idea of a general strike. This is clear from Che Guevara’s account of the J26M leadership meeting held on May 3, 1958 to discuss the failure of the strike.

Summarising the discussion at the meeting, Che said:

The analysis of the strike demonstrated that subjectivism and putschist conceptions permeated its preparation and execution. The formidable apparatus that the July 26 Movement seemed to have in its hands, in the form of organised workers’ cells, fell apart at the moment the action took place.

Che explained that the leaders of the J26M urban underground had made a number of errors. They had been ‘‘oppsed to any participation by the Popular Socialist Party in the organisation of the struggle’’. This had led to the ‘‘conception of a sectarian strike, in which the other revolutionary movements would be forced to follow our lead’’. They had also thought it would be possible for the capital city to be seized by J26M militias, ‘‘without closely examining the forces of reaction inside their principle bastion’’.

The meeting ‘‘raised the need for nity of all working class forces to prepare the next revolutionary general strike, which would be called from the Sierra’’ (i.e., from the mountains, where Fidel Castro was based).

Che added that the movement

did away wth various naive illusions of attempted revolutionary general strikes when the situation had not matured sufficiently to bring about an explosion of that type, and witout having laid the groundwork of adequate preparations or an event of that magnitude.

Following this meeting the J26M changed is policy and began trying to work with the PSP in preparing for a new general strike, to be called when the conditions for success were present. The PSP had by this time changed its policy and agreed to work with the J26M. Carlos Rafael Rodriguez, a prominent leader of the PSP, went into the mountains to meet with Fidel, and reached an agreement on collaboration in a common struggle against Batista. The J26M National Workers Front was merged with the CP-led Committees for the Defence of Workers Demands to form FONU (the United National Workers Front).

In the meantime the guerilla struggle continued in the countryside. For Castro and Guevara, guerilla warfare was not counterposed to urban mass struggle. Rather the guerilla struggle, by weakening Batista’s army, would help prepare the conditions for a successful general strike.

Conferences of workers’ representatives were held in two of the liberated zones (northern Oriente and Yaguajay). A plan for a third such conference in the Sierra Maestra had to be cancelled due to a government military offensive. However, between August and December 1958 Fidel Castro had meetings with numerous workers representatives who came to the Sierra to meet him.

There were also numerous meetings of workers and peasants in particular local areas. For example, in Las Villas province, where a guerilla column led by Camilo Cienfuegos was operating,

A comision obrera (workers committee) was formed and affiliated with the Column No. 2. Its objectives were to eliminate the official pro-Mujal leadership in the sugar mills; hold free elections in the unions; and to draw up a list of demands and supervise their fulfilment with the support of the rebel army. By November, Cienfuegos was able to preside over a meeting attended by about 800 sugar workers from the San Agustin and Adela sugar mills. On November 28, Major William Galvez presided over a meeting of 500 delegates representing workers from seven sugar mills in the region. The following day, a peasant congress attracted over 300 participants, and the asociacion campesina (peasant association) was organised.

Castro’s ‘Obsession’: Destroying the Old State Apparatus #

Towards the end of 1958, the guerrillas were inflicting major defeats on Batista’s troops and rapidly expanding the liberated zones. According to Carlos Rafael Rodriguez, the plan for a general strike was central to Fidel’s thinking at the time. The goal was to ‘‘paralyse the life of the nation until all power had passed into the hands of the revolution, and not just a fragment [of power]’’.

According to Rodriguez, the need to ‘‘destroy the political apparatus of the dominant classes’’ was ‘‘practically an obsession for Fidel Castro in the final days of 1958’’. Fidel’s thinking on this issue was influenced both by his reading of Marx’s writings on the Paris Commune, and by the practical experience of Latin America, where revolutions which overthrew a dictatorship but left the old army intact were sooner or later followed by a counter-coup carried out by army officers for the benefit of imperialism and the oligarchy.

The Insurrection #

By the end of 1958, the guerilla forces controlled much of the country and were advancing on Havana. The US, realising that Batista could no longer control the situation, began trying to bring about his replacement by a new government, comprising people who were less discredited than Batista, but still favourable to US interests.

According to Bonachea and San Martin, ‘’…since November, the US government had been taking urgent steps to remove Batista from power while trying to prevent Fidel Castro from taking over’’. Initially Batista resisted, but around 2am on January 1, 1959, he flew into exile, handing over power to one of his officers, General Eulogio Cantillo.

Castro responded to these events by ordering guerillas led by Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuegos to advance on Havana, and by calling a general strike to coincide with the entry of the guerrillas into the cities. In a radio broadcast on January 1, Castro called on ‘’the people of Cuba, especially all workers’’ to ‘‘immediately make preparations for a general strike, to begin throughout the country on January 2, supporting the revolutionary forces and thus guaranteeing the total victory of the revolution’’. He urged Cuban workers to ‘‘organise themselves in the factories and other workplaces to bring the county to a halt at dawn’’.

According to historian Hugh Thomas:

On 2 January the 26th of July Movement had called for a general strike to mark the end of the old regime, and in Havana and most cities this was fairly complete. In Havana the rebel trade union FONU … called for mass demonstrations … The rebel committees in all unions came out into the open … The old CTC leaders who had compromised with with Batista, Mujal at their head, had fled into hiding … In the next few days all the unions reformed themselves with new leaders … Militants of the 26th of July and Directorio took over as de facto police. Offices of newspapers which had backed Batista were occupied.

The general strike is sometimes dismissed as irrelevant because Batista had already left the country. But General Cantillo was attempting to create a new military-dominated government that would preserve the instituions of the bourgeois state. The general strike, which was effective throughout Cuba, developed into an insurrection that helped destroy the old state apparatus. Batista’s army and police disintegrated.

According to Bonachea and San Martin:

… the people answered Castro’s call for a general strike with jubilation. The country’s paralysis was universal, and nothing indicated that Cantillo’s orders to go back to work would be obeyed, or the streated would be cleared of throngs of elated Cubans. All the police precincts had surrendered to the urban fighters … The very possibilities of a struggle to death for control of Havana was so discouraging to the regular troops that many started abandoning the perimeters of the military bases, changing into civilian clothes and putting some safe distance between dangerous areas and themselves.

When Cantillo realised he could not control the situation, he handed over control to the army to Colonel Ramon Barquin, who had been jailed for attempted military rebellion against Batista. The aim was to preserve the army as an instituion by giving it a new leadership. Barquin tired to negotiate with the J26M. But when the Rebel Army continued to advance and Batista’s army continued to disintegrate, Barquin surrendered.

Fidel Castro later said the general strike made ‘‘a decisive contribution to victory’’.

Dismantling the Old State Apparatus #

After the insurrection Castro moved immediately to dismantle two of the key institutions of the old state apparatus. The old army and police were disbanded and replaced by new army and police, whose initial cadres were drawn from the Rebel Amry and the urban underground. Some members of the old army and police who were not guilty of serious crimes under the old regime and were sympathetic to the revolution were allowed to join the new army and police, after a rigorous selection process. But the army and police were led by people who had been anti-Batista fighters.

Over the next year or two, a peoples militia was created and Committees for the Defence of the Revolution were organised on a block-by-block basis. Cuban academic and diplomat German Sanchez summarises these developments as follows:

The repressive agencies of the former regime were eliminated and new defence organisations, based on revolutionary vigilance, were established with the essential involvement of ordinary people.

Castro and his supporters also encouraged workers and peasants to mobilise through their mass organisations (such as unions) to demand and actually carry out radical social changes.

The New Government #

After the insurrection Manuel Urrutia became provisional president. Urrutia had been a judge who had defied Batista during a trial of J26M members involved in the Granma expedition and the November 1956 Santiago insurrection. As one of three judges, he issued a dissenting verdict argung that the rebellion against tyrrany was justified.

Despite his opposition to Batista, Urrutia was basically conservative, and he appointed a cabinet consisting mainly of conservative lawyers and politicians headed by prime minister Jose Miro Cardona. Fidel Castro was not part of this cabinet.

While allowing the government to pass into the hands of bourgeois figures, Castro encouraged mass mobilisations that put them under pressure to carry out radical reforms. Conflicts arose over issues such as land reform. Castro mobilised the workers and peasants to break the resistance of conservative elements with the government. In the course of 1959 there were four more general strikes in support of Castro and his radical reform program. These strikes, called by the CTC (which was now led by J26M activists), occured on Januar 21, March 13, July 23, and October 25.

On February 16, 1959 Miro Cardona resigned and was replaced as prime minister by Fidel Castro. Over the following months a series of other bourgeois figures resigned from positions in the cabinet, civil service, etc.

During July a conflict between Castro and Urrutia led to huge mass mobilisations. Urrutia had given press conferences and media interviews claiming that communists were causing ‘’terrible harm’’ to Cuba. He claimed that Fidel Castro agreed with his anti-communist views, apparently trying to divide Castro from the PSP and thereby weaken the left.

On 16 July Castro resigned as prime minister. Next day he went on TV and accused Urrutia of using the supposed communist threat to create a pretext for future US intervention in Cuba.

In response to Castro’s speech, crowds gathered outside the presidential palance demanding that Urrutia resign, which he soon did.

Catro them announced that his own political future would be decided at a mass meeting to be held in Havana’s civic plaza on July 26.

On July 23 a strke called by the CTC demanded Castro’s return to power. On July 26 the mass meeting in the civic plaza attracted a huge crowd, estimated at one million, who cheered the annoucement of Castro’s return as prime minister. This reflected mass support for Castro’s revolutionary policies.

During 1959 the government introduced a range of measures that benefited the poor. Wages were increased, with the lower paid workers benefiting disproportionately. Rents were cut, as were electricity and phone charges. Tax changes benefited the poor. Protection against unfair dismissal weas extended to all workers, and the social security system was expanded.

Private becaused were opened to the public. Private clubs were handed over to unions for the enjoyment of their members. Workers benefited from cheaper health services, expanded educational opportunities, and additional child care centres.

The increased rights of workers to challenge unfair dismissals led to an increase in the the number of claims, rising to over 40 000 cases. Labour disputes were nearly always resolved in favour of the workers. According to Efren Cordoba, a US citizen of Cuban origin, such disputes led to the bankruptcy of some employers, resulting in the seizure of their enterprises by the government.

Cordoba accuses Castro of deliberately stirring up industrial disputes in the initial months of the revolution. He claims that

… Castro and his colleagues were apparently intent on arousing workers’ expectations and fomenting a climate of tension … The prime mininster referred on various occasions to the employers’ lack of observance of labour legislation, to the inclination of wealthy men to send their money abroad and to do little for Cuba, and to the unfair treatment accorded to various sectors of the working class.

Castro himself said:

The Cuban pople actually acquired a socialist awareness with the development of the revolution and the violent class struggle that was unleashed at the national and international levels. This struggld served to develop the conscience of the masses; they were able to realise in a few months what only a minority had previously been able to understand after decades of ruthless exploitation.

Land Reform and Nationalisation of Industry #

In History Will Absolve Me, Castro had spoken of the nationalisation of US-owned electricity and phone companies, and of the confiscation of property obtained by fraud. He also spoke of the redistribution of land of the big land owners to small peasants.

Land reform began soon after the overthrow of Batista. Initially the revolutionaries had intended to simply divide up the land of big landowners amongst the small peasants. This was done in many areas.

But the workers in the big sugar plantations had been wage earners, not tenant farmers. Many had been involved in nions since the 1930s. Their consciousness was proletarian, not petty-bourgeois. Surveys showed that most sugar cane workers wanted job security as wage earners rather than becoming peasant farmers. They wanted a small plot of land for growing their own food (indeed many had already won this through union struggles) but were happy for the sugar plantations to be run as state farms. Hence when the big sugar plantations were taken over they became state property. Thus the state became owner of 40% of Cuba’s land.

The confiscation of assets gained by fraud also put some productive assets in the hands of the state. Some capitalist property was also taken over by the state in response to violations of labour laws by the owners.

The measures described above, while affecting particular capitalists, did not mean the abolition of capitalism as a system. A substantial part of the economy

A Summary of Das Kapital by Monty

Wed, 26 Sep 2018 03:11:50 +0000

Capital, Volume 1 #

Karl Marx #

Summarised by Monty Hill de Monchaux

Commodities made for exchange. Has use value - “anything outside us that we find necessary, useful or pleasant.” Has value - can be exchanged.
Capitalist society introduces double life of the product of labor - use value and value.
Value and use value are contradictory - desire to maximise value clashes with human desire for use values. E.g. sale and ability to purchase product mediates access to use value for worker. Capitalists make decisions through this medium of saleability, hence distortion of use value suffered by workers - malformed, dangerous products. This is instituted as private property - a ‘feature’ of capitalism.
Overproduction - prices, profits fall. Surplus use values removed from market by capitalists. Productive capacity regularly constrained. Capitalists who control productive forces organise production based on maximisation of exchange, rather than use values.
Shared feature of all commodities is that all require human labor. Labor is objectified in productive process - changes object worked upon.
Different kinds of labor may be treated as though they were equal. Trading products of labor (commodities) treats this labor of different, useful kinds as equal. E.g. We may trade x bikes for y cars because we recognise abstract labor. Useful labor embodied in use value. Abstract labour embodied in value. Average socially necessary labor time it takes to create product determines value. E.g. slowing down when sewing jeans does not increase the value of product.

7). “Value is not material, it cannot be materially perceived.” Value is a social reality. Useful objects are commodified through their social treatment, in capitalism: exchange. Exchange as universal human relation makes value real.

Commodity Fetishism - belief that commodities (products of labor) possess not just material traits, but inherent ‘exchange value’. This mystification makes it appear as through commodities relations with one another are somehow natural, and not rendered by specific social and economic relations. Private producers exchange products. Producers can only produce a definite amount of a particular use value, at a certain point a product only has exchange value for its producer (while also containing use value for another producer). Production does not have to be organised privately, for exchange. The present mode of production is mutable. Political, social and psychological forms are specific to capitalism. Domination is the capitalist mode, it is not natural or intrinsic to humans.
Three forms of value; Commodity: use value for exchange. Money: universal commodity. Capital: money to generate more money. Value relations (e.g. xA is worth yB) become more fixed when generalised. Money emerges as commodity exchange becomes generalised, serves as standard measure and expression of a commoditys’ value to facilitate exchange.
“Direct producers sell in order to buy, capitalists buy in order to sell.” Worker sells ability to produce in order to buy commodities that have specific, necessary use values. Capitalist uses money to make more money, buys commodities to sell them for more money. Surplus value acquired by capitalist takes three forms; profit, interest, rent. Capitalist pays for interest on money borrowed, pays rent for land, equipment, left with profit which capitalist uses as either dividends, or capital. That is, for capitalists personal pleasures, or as investment in new process of capital accumulation. Capital is accumulated if money left after rent, interest, dividends is greater than original.

This principle of capital accumulation drives capitalism. Profit making is essential to such a system. Capitalists say value created in exchange. Capitalists disciplined by competition to keep price of products near to value - hence commodities tend to sell near cost in terms of average socially necessary labor time. Particular capitalists may accrue more or less surplus value but this does not bring into being new value, as gain by some is loss of surplus value to others. “Value has changed hands, but it has not been created, and profits - to be real - must be newly created. It is self-evident that capital is not produced by cheating.” (E.Marx). Profit is the aim in monopolised, and competitive industries alike. Capital is not created in exchange, but in production. Labor is the value creating commodity the capitalist finds in the market.

Money - as the universal commodity - can buy labor power. Only in this act can money act as capital. Capital required for capital accumulation. Capital only historically arises when capitalist (money owner, controls means of production) is able to find worker on the market. Divide in terms of capitalists (buyers, owners etc), and workers (sellers of own arms, brains etc) historically formed by definite series of events - not ‘natural’.
Means of production: raw materials, land, tools etc. Production is labor power acting with and upon means. Taking away means of production (e.g farm) from a direct producer (e.g farmer) leaves a worker with only labor power. Historical precondition for capitalism is expropriation of means of production by capitalist. Labor power and means of production reunite in form prescribed by capitalist. Worker (proletarian) does all productive labor of varying kinds, yet subject to capitalist.
Expropriation begins in England, throughout 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries. Continues throughout Europe and rest of world. Mass of people robbed of productive forces by violence. Surplus labor is labor more than is required for survival. Capacity for surplus labor can and has been improved through development of productive forces.” Surplus product becomes the basis of all social, political, and intellectual progress.” (Engels). Slave society - slave owners control necessary and surplus labor. Feudal society - lords own serfs surplus labor. Exploitation is control of surplus labor of the oppressed by the oppressor.
Capitalism - surplus labor taken from worker in form of surplus value. How we get to this point? Property violently expropriated. Workers forced onto labor market. E.g aristocrats in late 14th century expropriating peasant land to expand wool manufacture. Money seeking tendency of capitalists demand this violence. Historical process of conversion from community property, small holdings to set of private business ventures. E.g Violently dispossessed peasants terrorised by ruling class, disciplined to demands of industrial wage labor - economic, and extra economic force ie compulsion by aversion to starvation, or threat of violence. Capitalist State has required instruments of terror of varying forms to discipline mass of workers. Means of production gathered together under control of capitalist, rather than dispersed throughout communities. Large quantities of newly rendered workers supply labor power to carry out industrial manufacture. Dual freedom for proletarian in bourgeois society; freedom from means of production, land, and free to sell labor power. Bentham: freedom for buyer and seller to contact one another, equality because equivalent commodities are exchanged, property because owned properties are exchanged. When we leave this realm of exchange and enter into that of production - where surplus value created by labor power - bourgeois illusion dissipates. Alienation: worker (possess labor power) subordinated to alien power, the capitalist (money owner). Commodification of labor power intrinsically subordinates worker. Worker ‘free’ to enter into subservience (or die). Alienation required for exploitation. Purpose, method, product of labor controlled by capitalist. Capital decides where to invest (money - commodity). Use of commodities alienated in general too - beyond control of worker. Capitalist meets resistance to this condition with denial of workers access to means of production, and subsistence. State exerts force to discipline worker (police protect private property).
Capitalist seeks to maximise surplus value through expansion of labor power, and means of production - money needed. Supply of money provided by worker. “What Marx discovered is that the value of labour-power may be less than the value of the labour product. This is the secret of surplus value, at last revealed.” (Engels) Value of labour power is equal to average labor time required to produce the worker. This work overwhelmingly performed by women - wives and mothers etc. Workers may produce commodities with greater value than labour power expended. E.g in half a day worker may produce commodities equal to value of their labor power - capitalist free to employ worker for longer as they control means of production. These two periods are necessary, and surplus labor. If worker spends close to average socially necessary labor time, labor may be treated as a given amount of abstract labor. Hence capitalists have ‘top of the line’ productive equipment, and workers close to or above average (socially defined) productivity levels. Labor power and means of production combined by capitalist. Means of production add value to product, labor power adds surplus value. Variable capital - value added by money spent on labor power varies (due to particular, relative skills of worker) and allows for surplus value. Constant capital - value added by money spent on means of production unvarying.

Why is this true of constant capital? Value of commodity is total amount of average socially necessary labor time. Labor in terms of useful labor spent making commodity, and labor embodied in tools required to make a commodity. Capitalist pays for value of the abstract labor contained in a given commodity. Means of production have definite value. This does not vary during production process. Value of commodity produced by a given means of production (without labor power) equal to average socially necessary labor time to produce particular commodity. Means can only imbue value equal to abstract labor embodied in the means itself. E.g the loom is itself a product of labor power. When purchasing means of production the capitalist purchases a definite quantity of abstract labor.

Value of a commodity = average labor hours required for production of means of production + labor power expended in use of means of production.

Total labor time (value of commodity) minus necessary labor time equals surplus value.

Capital = constant capital + variable capital. Capital’ = constant capital + variable capital + surplus value. Difference between the two is surplus value. Variable capital creates surplus value. Surplus value / variable capital = rate of surplus value. Rate of profit is ratio between surplus value and total investment (into constant and variable capital) ergo Rate of profit = surplus value / variable capital + constant capital = surplus value / capital. When constant capital is greater than 0, rate of profit less than rate of surplus value. Hence tendency for rate of profit to fall (borne out by reality). Therefore capitalism leads to profit crunches, economic crises. Ratio of constant to variable capital known as ‘organic composition of capital’. When constant capital rises relative to variable capital, organic composition ‘rises’. Capital production relies upon ever more effective means of production. Competition disciplines capitalist who must buy means of production and labor power to produce commodities as market is of definite size. Capitalist must sell products as cheap as possible to compete in market. This requires reducing average socially necessary labor time for producing a given commodity. It is more efficacious for capitalist to increase power of means of production in order to meet this end - lowering necessary labor time. Productivity rises, commodities abound, economic crisis lurks. Variable capital produces surplus value. Competition forces capital to increase organic composition - ie higher ratio of constant to variable capital - rate of profit (surplus value/constant capital + variable capital) falls.

Production for exchange value is risky. If rate of profit declines too much, investment unwise. Increasingly true as investment sums become larger and larger. Profit decline leads to trade wars, and military war. War allows capitalist to seize resources, damages competitors.

c=constant capital

v=variable capital

s= surplus value

Countertendency: if c rising how can capitalist maintain rate of profit? Increase s? Decrease v?

Necessary labor time constant, number of workers constant, surplus value extracted by increasing length of working day. I.e no change in v (value of labor power, no. of workers), s rises. This is called Absolute Surplus Value. Great for capitalist, heinous for worker. History of capitalist organisation to emiserate workers to this end is evident. Labor organises to fight back against class assault.

Workers forced to work faster, value of labor power remains same, fewer labor hours required to produce equivalent commodities to value of labor power. More hours of average labor completed by faster worker.

Value of labor power falls when average socially necessary labor time required for production of means of subsistence falls. Fewer hours of labor required to produce commodities as valuable as labor power. By reducing the portion of work day required for necessary labor, by increasing speed of worker, or cutting value of labor power, capitalist extracts relative surplus value. More of day is newly freed by capitalist for (uncompensated) surplus labor. As before, workers prevent these capitalist advancements through organisation. Capitalists invest money in ‘managing’ workers - maximising surplus value through measures directed at ‘efficiency’ at expense to worker. Compulsion may be covert or overt.

Capital continues to exhibit these profit seeking behaviours to counteract tendency of rate of profit to fall by extracting increased amounts of surplus value from workers absolutely (longer day) or relatively (productivity increasing measures). Variable capital may also be lowered by reducing size of labor force, wage cuts etc.

How much time socially required to reproduce labor power? Level of subsistence is defined socially in given historical epoch. Living wage contested. Workers fight for variegated necessities. Wage reflects particular state of power relation between worker and capitalist. Cheap labor is labor that requires less socially average labor for its reproduction. That is to say: a lower standard of living is imposed on a worker. Capitalist pits workers (sellers of labor power) against one another due to their monopolisation of means of production, workers prices be competitive for capitalist. Capitalists always seeking surplus value (difference between value of labor power, represented by wages, and value of labor product, represented by price) even when wages are high.

1870 France and Prussia went to war, capitalists pit workers against one another under pretext of ‘national interest’. Parisian workers revolted against ruling class and war, formed commune, Prussian and French authorities combined to violently crush the commune. Imperialism - capitalists seek fresh markets, cheap labor power, resources etc, use workers in imperial core to violently suppress organisation of oppressed. Capitalists enjoy support of workers at home, super exploitation of workers abroad.

Value of labor power of interest to capitalist and worker alike for opposite reasons. Capitalist wants it to decline in pursuit of profit, worker wants it to increase. Workers can organise to increase price of labor power as a commodity, or refuse to treat labor power as commodity. With means of production being driven to be increasingly powerful, material abundance is within grasp of worker. Living labor power can unite for cooperative rather than competitive production. Wage relation obscures exploitation. “The predominant tendency is for workers to think that they are paid for their ‘labour’, not their labour-power, and that a ‘fair days wage’ is all they can hope for.”(Marx) Workers are paid for average labor time required to reproduce labor power, not for their particular labor, whether it be below, at, or above a socially formed average. Wage form makes it appear as though there is no division of working day into necessary and surplus labor - all labour appears as paid. Feudal - clear demarcation between labor for self and labor for lord, Slave - all labor unpaid, Wage labor - surplus labor and necessary labor alike appear as paid. Fetishism of labor: belief that labor is inevitably commodified in the manner particular to capitalism. Workers paid after work - appears that it is the product of labor itself that is bought rather than the capacity to (power) labor. Wages are not fair, nor can they ever be. Workers being divorced from means of production is not ‘natural’, it is the result of a specific historical process - namely, expropriation. Without capital, uniting of means of production and labor power removes sale of labor power, and means of production. Workers unite and freely associate, expend labor power to harness means of production to meet need (use values) rather than pursuit of profit (exchange values).

The exploited must be the ones to end exploitation.

A Contribution to the Debate on the Class Character of China

Sun, 16 Sep 2018 12:46:51 +1000

Introduction #

Virtually all of the radical left circles I have moved through have taken it for granted that the People’s Republic of China was a thoroughly capitalist state, economy, and society. Many of the comrades (past and present) with which I have discussed the class character of China have pointed to its possession of a stock exchange, its apparent deep embeddedness in the linkages of capitalist production and commodity chains, and the supposed ‘‘imperialist’’ character of the Chinese state. When demonstrating the imperialist character of China, some of my comrades will point to what they say is the congruence of Lenin’s theory of imperialism and the empirical fact of the increasing flow of Chinese capital into certain oppressed nations.

In this contribution, I wish to argue that the popular ‘‘orthodox’’ judgement that China in a thoroughly capitalist state and economy is mistaken. I will do this by adopting a large portion of the arguments made by the economist Michael Roberts. He explains that while the law of value does operate to some degree in China, it is by no means dominant. In fact, the political state of the People’s Republic of China still retains enormous and overwhelming dominance over the economy of China. As Roberts explains, capital flows in and out of China are strictly controlled, and the vast majority of the GDP growth of the PRC is due to the production of State Owned Enterprises.

This article will say nothing about the class character of the superstructure of the PRC. It is concerned only to deal with the material base. It is Roberts’s position that the political character of the Chinese state is an autocracy, and not a worker’s democracy. I broadly agree with this assessment. Despite this, Roberts points out that the PRC is at a crossroads, and that the future development of China is a forked road. The future of the class character of China is open and contested within Chinese society. There are not insignificant political forces in China which wish to see it develop into a proper socialist society, instead of as it is now, what I call a ‘‘distorted’’ one. Indeed, the pro-capitalist political players within China have been partially discredited by the way the West has suffered so badly from their reliance on naked market forces.

The roadmap for this essay is as follows:

First, I will look at the current hard data on the Chinese economy
Second, I will ‘‘sort through the endoxa’’ on the economy of the PRC: I will look at the two most highly regarded theories on China’s economic development since 1978.
I will perform a critical assessment of these two orthodox theories, following Michael Roberts.

Current Data on the Chinese Economy #

First, let’s recount the famous data on China’s GDP growth. It is the envy of the whole world. Not even India can approach the heights of the expansion of the Chinese economy:

Even though China’s GDP growth is enormous compares to the West, which struggles to reach even 2% growth per year, Roberts says China needs to maintain its GDP growth at at least 8% per year in order to stop unemployment from increasing. The proletarianisation of the rural Chinese population continues apace–millions of people are leaving the countryside and flocking into the cities, and high unemployment would cause social unrest.

Just take a look at the data on the increase of China’s industrial output since 2007. It is enormous. Indeed all other countries seemingly have ‘‘deindustrialised’’:

Let’s next look at the GDP per capita of China:

Taken at face value, the data above shows that China’s enormous economic expansion has increased the wealth of its population significantly. Indeed, Roberts reports that approximately 600 million people have been lifted out of poverty, according to the standard international definition.

But this graph hides the massive growth of inequality within China because of the expansion of market forces within the country. Just take a look at the historial change of China’s Gini coefficient:

Roberts writes in Workshop On China: Challenging the Misconceptions (7 June 2018):

But at the same time, the law of value and capitalism operates within the country. Indeed, the capitalist sector in the economy is growing; there are many more Chinese billionaires and inequality of income and wealth has risen; while Chinese labour struggles against exploitation in the workplaces.

So the economic growth of China has come at the expense of massive increases in wealth inequality. A very interesting question to answer would be–who has benefited the most out of China’s enormous industrialisation?

The Current ‘Orthodox’ Position on the Class Character of China #

Most people on the left have taken this data to indicate that China has fully completed its transformation into a capitalist economic system. The data that most comrades take as authoritative on China’s capitalist nature is the massive increase in inequality. People take this to mean that China’s society has well and truly stratified into a capitalist ruling class and propertyless workers.

I will now assess this claim–that China is now fully capitalist. By itself, the Gini coefficient is insufficient to decide on this question. Indeed, the data on Gini presented above is quite ambiguous.

I will perform a rehearsal of the discussion that Roberts makes in his 2015 seminar paper China: Three Models of Development, and then perform a critical assessment of the conclusions he makes.

Neoliberal #

The mainstream discourse on the economic development of China, and its corresponding class character, is the neoliberal economic discourse. This discourse centres around how China has oriented to exporting commodities in the global capitalist system. World Bank economist Lin argues that under Deng Xiaoping, China oriented from a comparitive advantage defying strategy (CAD) to a comparitive advantage following strategy (CFD).

Roberts writes that this means

By this [Lin] means that China‘s leaders realised that the bias in state intervention towards developing heavy industry at the expense of agriculture, or increasing capital inputs instead of using the plentiful supplies of cheap labour eventually created distortions in the prices of products, weakened agricultural prices and rural incomes relative to industry, ke pt consumption too low and generated over accumulation with low capital productivity (pp 1-2)

The old strategy of CAD lead to a range of industries that were ‘‘unviable’’–meaning ‘‘uncompetitive on the global capitalist market’’. Under Deng, Lin argues that China took advantage of its comparitive advantage, its cheap labour factor of production.

Roberts says that Lin argues

[that] under Deng, China then embarked on a ‘‘dual-track system’’, introducing reforms in some areas while maintaining the status-quo in others - aimed at controlling the shock delivered at one time. Farmers were one of the first beneficiaries - they were allowed to own their land again (collective farms were broken up) and could set prices for selling their production that exceeded quota obligations sold to the state at fixed prices. Meanwhile, entry of private enterprises, joint ventures, and foreign investment in to labour - intensive sectors was allowed (p 2).

Lin argues that it is possible to detect a trend in China’s development that shows that the most successful industries in China turned towards exploiting cheap labour, instead of using more capital-intensive economic production. He claims that this special ‘‘index’’ that you can construct demonstrates why some regions of China have performed better economically than others.

Roberts gives three counter arguments which cast a great deal of doubt on Lin’s theory that China’s development is due to the expansion of reforms that better integrated it into the global capitalist system.

First, Lin’s explanation seems to suggest that China’s economic fortunes under Mao were terrible. But this isn’t the case. From 1952 to 1978, the GDP of the PRC increased 6.1% per year on average. Given that the official predictions for GDP growth in China are around 8% per year, Lin’s explanation that China’s shift towards a CFD strategy doesn’t seem to have produced a different kind of growth in China.

Second, Roberts writes that

As Tyler Cowen recently put it, a leading neoclassical economist of the 1950s and 1960s, Paul Samuelson considered comparative advantage as an example of an economic theorem which was both true and trivial. It had little explanatory value. As a static model, it takes no account of the dynamic perspective. The law assumes perfect mobility of labour, and ‘‘sits uneasily with the observation that long-term unemployment is indeed possible’’ (p 3).

Finally, the original comparitive advantages that a country has are endogenous to specialisation decisions and other economic factors. Endogeneity is the quality of being internally connected to some process or object in a complex way. So the endogeneity of specialisation decisions and certain economic factors means the competitive advantage of some country is not easy to just look up in a book or encyclopedia and write down in a spreadsheet. Because the world market is not made up of a single economic input, the only way to assess some comparitive advantage is with market prices. But this is where the problem of endogeneity comes to bear–just because something is cheap, doesn’t actually make it a competitive advantage, because of the enormous complexity of the world economic system.

Lin treats comparitive advantage as something simple to observe and decide upon – as if it was an epiphenomenon – something that is external to the system China was embedded in. This is not true at all.

Many comrades adopt Lin’s approach, whether they’d like to admit it or not. Almost everyone in Australian society claims China’s cheap labour was the reason that they ended up industrialising so spectacularly, becoming a capitalist society. Lin’s theory is the most rigorous form of this pub explanation. It turns out to be completely unfounded in science.

Keynesian #

Let’s turn to a slightly more nuanced perspective – the paradigmatic Keynesian one currently offered up. One such paradigmatic Keynesian explanation for China’s economic development since Deng Xiaoping is one given by an scholar named John Ross.

Roberts explains that

Ross argues that the key factor in China‘s development was not a switch to a policy of comparative advantage but the continued effort raise investment. For Ross, growth depends fundamentally on an increased division of labour, following Adam Smith’s insight. Increased division of labour implies a sustained rise in investment in mechanisation and technology over labour inputs, thus boosting productivity . Thus it was not a switch to using cheap labour and allowing a rise in agricultural prices that allowed China to ‘’take off’’ but more investment in technology i.e. great er capital inputs as well as labour (p 4).

This explanation is the obverse of Lin’s. Lin follows the neoclassical dictum that investment does not drive economic growth. Lin claims it is consumption which drives growth–the old ‘’the consumer is king’’ slogan, that it was consumer preferences which drove market forces and production. But, as Ross shows, there is empirical evidence that investment does drive growth – the trend in economic development all throughout history is that the proportion of the economic devoted to investment rises.

The ‘‘revolution’’ in the PRC after Mao, Ross claims, was that Deng Xiaoping followed a Keynesian economic development model. Deng dismantled the old Maoist administrative control of the economy, and ‘‘replace[d] it with a Keynesian - style macroeconomic model that would boost investment further’’ (p 5).

Ross argues:

In China, … relatively limited budget deficits have been combined with low interest rates, a state owned banking system and a huge state investment programme. While the West‘s economic recovery programme has been timid, China has pursued full blooded policies of the type recognisable from Keynes General Theory as well as its own ‘‘socialism with Chinese characteristics’’.

So it is apparently the case that Deng was completely ideologically uncommitted. He was prepared to permit the growth of a private market and the development of large state investment in the economy.

Indeed there seems to be evidence to support Ross’s premises:

So whereas in the US, for example, fixed investment fell by over 25% during the financial crisis in China, urban fixed investment rose by over 30%. Consequently, there is no mystery why China‘s economy grew by 41.4% in the four years since the peak of the last US business cycle at end 2007, while the US economy has grown by only 0.7 %! (Roberts, p 6).

Michael Roberts: A Nuanced Marxist Perspective #

While Ross’s explanation and description of China’s economic development since Deng Xiaoping seems to have some evidence, he starts from some false premises. The correct way to start analysing the economic development of some society under capitalism is not to start with its comparitive advantage, or the rate of savings and investments in an economy, but to start with the law of value.

As Roberts explains, understanding the operation of the law of value in China will provide us with the precise explanation of the class character of the PRC:

China’s econom ic development is better gauged from the ability of an economy to avoid the unstable impact of the law of value while al so recognising its inexorable power.

The Law of Value in China #

Roberts explains that the Marxist understanding of economic development, the law of value, is about the dialectical contradiction between ‘‘productivity’’ and ‘’the falling rate of profit’’. Productivity, as Marxists understand it, is the rate of exploitation–the rate of surplus value extraction from a worker in the workplace. The higher the rate of exploitation, the more productive a worker, workplace, or economy is. However, this special indicator of economic fortunes needs to be weighed against the result that it has on the global economic system, and this is determined by the ‘‘rate of profit’’ of an industry or a workplace.

Broadly speaking, the more surplus value a sector of an economy produces, the more investment it will receive. Resources will be directed at more productive sectors, and even pulled out of sectors with a lower rate of exploitation. But this has a counter-acting effect on the economy. This causes the ‘‘rate of profit’’, the overall return on capital investment, to sink in that sector with a higher rate of exploitation as well as the rest of the economy, because they are now producing with less investment.

The only way that economies can return to higher rates of profit is by increasing their use of technology in order to increase the rate of surplus value again, in order to drive more investment in targeted sectors of their economy.

Roberts provides evidence for this crucial piece of Marxist economic science:

I found that, within overall productivity growth, average productivity achieved from innovation has risen in importance compared with labour and capital inputs as a source of world growth over the last 20 years, except in the G7 economies, which have also experienced much slower growth. Average productivity achieved from innovation has risen from a 12% contribution to world GDP growth in the early 1990s to 37% in 2008. But the G7 average productivity achieved from innovation contribution has fallen from 18% to 15%. The average productivity achieved from innovation contribution in the major EMs has risen from just 11% in the 1990s to 47% in 2008. So innovation and technology transfer was increasingly important to EMs over capital and labour inputs.

Roberts explains the operation of this need to increase productivity through machinery and automation throughout history:

Even if China’s rapid growth was founded on a very high ratio of capital investment, as well as on cheap labour in the period up to the Great Recession, it may be a different story from hereon. Gross investment has averaged over 47% of GDP since 2009. But real GDP growth has been slowing. So China’s productivity return on new investment (or the productivity of capital input) is declining. Back in 2006, before the global crisis, it took 2.9 units of investment to increase real GDP by 1 unit. In 2014, it now takes 6.6 units. China needs to return to its long - term average productivity achieved from innovation rate of over 2.5% a year to sustain 7% real GDP growth (p 10).

So what does this mean for the class nature of the Chinese economy? The best answer is always the historical one. Roberts shows the three phases of profitability in China lead to the answer of exactly what the class character of China is.

The first cycle since 1978 was this: between 1978-1990 ‘’there was an upswing as capitalist production expanded through the Deng reforms and the opening up of foreign trade’’.

But, following 1990, in the second cycle, from 1990 to 1999, there was a decline in the rate of profit in China, as over-investment plagued the Chinese economy, and many other countries of similar development (Mexico, East Asia, and Latin America, all between 1994-2001), went into severe economic crisis after being forced to ‘‘join’’ the Washington ‘‘consensus’’. This falling rate of profit caused a slowing in GDP growth.

Then, as Roberts explains

Then, from about 1999 onwards, there has been a rise in profitability, which also saw a significant rise in the rate of economic growth (as the world too expanded at a credit - fuelled pace) After 2007, the slump in world capitalism drove down Chinese profitability. Rising wages were not matched by increased sales abroad, so the rate of surplus value slumped (green line) while investment in fixed capital remained high (red line). So profitability fell.

As you can see, the data for the organic composition of capital shows it rose as surplus value sank, as Marx explained.

These changing fortunes of profitability show that it is true that the law of value is operating in China, and that the world market has some effect on the Chinese economy. But who exactly is driving the investment, and why has China’s rate of profit not been as affected by the global market as the rest of the world? The following data provides the final piece of the puzzle to explaining how the law of value operates in China:

As you can see in the first graph, the ratio of the Chinese public GDP and stock to private is almost 3:1, in absolute terms.

The second graph provides the biggest piece of the puzzle to explaining the changing fortunes of proftibability in China – while public stock is still greater in absolute terms compared to GDP, the ratio of private stock to GDP is growing. So capitalism, defined as the law of value, is not dominant in China, but it is growing.

Critical Assessment of Roberts’s Argument #

Roberts’s analysis of the class character of the Chinese state is incredibly illuminating. Indeed Roberts demonstrates that the class character of the Chinese state is still closer to the old ‘‘degenerated/distorted workers state’’ characterisation than to the now-popular characterisation as fully and thoroughly capitalist. From what I can discern, Roberts’s explanation that growth in China is triggered by investment which stems from state directed finance from public funds seems sound. This explanation is grounded on the Marxist science of the law of value. The PRC’s rate of profit is so incredibly high because it manages to avoid much of the pitfalls of the profitability of a capitalist economy. But to the extent that capitalism and the law of value do plague the PRC, you see deviations and slumps in the overall productivity of the Chinese economy.

The major drawback of Roberts’s account of the class nature of China is that is is incredibly general and broad-brush. Personally I cannot fault him for this defect in his work because his goal with respect to analysing the rate of profit in China is not to draw up a specific set of guidelines about how to relate to specific forces in China, he is more concerned with measuring the global rate of profit, and analysising the fortunes of global capitalism as a whole.

Roberts’s work also says nothing about the political structures of the PRC. It is entirely concerned with the economic base of China. A complete dialectical analysis of the PRC and its role in the cause of global communism demands that we also understand how the superstructure of the state of the PRC relates to its economic base.

As far as I am concerned, this is the very beginning of a long debate that we need to pay close attention to, because China is a major economic and political force in the world, and there may be forces within it that we can relate to in order to best carry out internationalist socialist struggle.

Conclusion #

I believe Roberts’s work on the class nature of the Chinese economy needs to be radically expanded and continued. It is my understanding that in November there will be a conference at Newcastle University discussing the role that Marxism plays in politics and the economy of the PRC. It stands to reason that to find out more about the forces that exist in China and what they have to say would suggest that we have a presence at that conference.

Final Essay for Overland: Unionism and Imperialism

Sun, 26 Aug 2018 22:31:47 +1000

Unionism Inside Australia and Imperialism #

Collective struggle is borne of the decline of material conditions. The rise or decline of the union movement broadly represents the working classes faith in the ability of the movement to secure material gains. Mass support for unionism is caused by the level of development of a union movement’s organisation. The more a union movement is able to wield political power through the expression of mass militant action, through rank and file democratic will, the more developed it is. The intrinsic purpose of any union movement must therefore be to secure material gains for the working class, and help it grasp the nature of its position within capitalism. The purpose of unionism is to act as a tool for the working class to defend its interests against attack both at home and from abroad.

In this paper I will argue that unions within the core of imperialism, such as in Australia, should adopt clear anti-racist, anti-imperialist and pro-refugee objectives. They should also be committed to the objective that the capitalist mode of production should be abolished. We can only achieve a just, common future through the establishment of a democratic mode of production. Furthermore, we can only achieve this end with a guiding principle of international working class solidarity in all union activity. If there is anything that I want the reader to take away from this, it is that there is no genuine conflict of interests between workers inside or outside the barbed wire fences of imperialism.

I also want to argue that Australia unions should disaffiliate from the ALP, and adopt strong anti-imperialist and strong anti-racist platforms. In order to show why this is so, I will provide an overview of capitalism and the contradictions it generates.

The economic and political system the the entire human population currently lives under is capitalism. Capitalism is an economic system which declares that ‘all capitalists are created equal’, and that economic profit is to be maximised at all costs. The costs referred to are those suffered by the mass of working people. The whole point of capitalism is to maximise one’s amount of capital. That is the only thing that matters under this mode of production. The importance of this goal is so overwhelming that entire industries are created for the purpose of allowing sums of money to multiply as if by magic. This is the unstated aim of the finance industry, to attempt to free the multiplication of bank accounts from any physical connection to labouring.

From the very moment of its birth, capitalism created its own resistance–the working class. Capitalism requires an enormous human population to spend the majority of their lives working, in order for the system to function. In order to entice people to work, capitalism wields the threat of starvation and poverty. Therefore, in order for capitalism to become a successful economic system, most of the human population had to be stripped of all their wealth so that the only thing they had to trade on the market was their own labouring power. Occasionally, the working class is able to wring some minor concessions from the capitalist state, when the capitalists themselves fail to provide sufficient resources to survive. The state makes these benefits difficult to access, and the press aids their vilification of all who seek access to a basic level of social security.

Capitalism also transformed human life, restructuring the priority of human behaviours to those of labouring and economic exchange. In So Doing it dramatically reduced the breadth and variety of human capacities that were promoted on earth. This reduction of human behaviour to just labouring is called alienation. Rather than explore human activities, workers are compelled, by virtue of their material position, to labor in the manner prescribed by the capitalist. Rather than collaboratively organise so as to meet shared needs, workers are thrown into competition with one another, reinscribing an unnatural, and thoroughly intolerable arrangement. Grasping at scraps thrown out by a given capitalist, the worker lurches through various forms of alienation, never able to realise their potential. All of this is caused by capitalism’s reduction to and replacement of human interaction with commodity exchange.

Life is rendered desperate for the many because of the organisation of human society around generalised commodity production. The state of human existence right now is a bizarre and temporary one. Life does not need to be this way. Mass emiseration and destitution is unnatural. In this period of human history, there is sufficient resources for each human being to live a dignified life. UN Citation Right from the very beginning of capitalism, people have frequently and periodically risen up and resisted the imposition of work. As Marx and Engels wrote so long ago in 1845,

“For [capitalism] to become an “intolerable” power, i.e. a power against which people make a revolution, it must necessarily have rendered the great mass of humanity “propertyless”, and produced, at the same time, the contradictions of an existing world of wealth and culture…” (The German Ideology, 24)

The interests of the international working class are bound together by the nature of this shared, antagonistic relation to capital. Global capitalism is integrated together through the political instrument of imperialism. Imperialism is when capitalism grows to be the dominant mode of production on Earth, but is unable to grow any further within certain confines. What happens next is that industrial production and financial interests fuse with particular capitalist states, so that their militaries become appendages of certain industries. This incessant calcification of power requires the expropriation of the wealth of those countries often referred to as “developing nations”. Those in charge of imperialism create an artificial separation between different populations of the global working class. This allows the global capitalist class to subjugate and rule over the global south and allows the workers in the core of imperialism to live in apparent relative, temporal material advantage. Global imperialism also artificially pits firms in the global south against one another, and by maintaining arms length relations with said firms, transnational corporations are able to maximise the surplus value extracted, all the while obfuscating the nature of their dealings. For instance, much of the profit derived from international capitalism originates within the global south, but is deceptively recorded officially as originating within the core of imperialist economies. John Smith revealed in his book Imperialism in the Twenty-First Century that:

In 2009, according to the International Coffee Organization, the roasting, marketing, and sale of coffee added $31bn to the GDP of the nine most important coffee-importing nations, more than twice as much as all coffee-producing nations earned from growing and exporting it—and, as noted above, this does not include the value-added captured by cafés and restaurants (p29).

Mainstream economists contort the reporting of economic data so that the economies of countries in the global south appear unproductive, and therefore, that their status as ‘developing’ countries is somehow deserved.The reality is that these countries are, as Michael Parenti puts it, subject to “superexploitation” (Against Empire, Page 9). The economies of the global south are the ones propping up global capitalism, it is not the other way around. The profit seeking behaviour of capital is the motive force behind the outsourcing, and offshoring of jobs. Neoliberalism is as much a story about the offshoring of industries to the global south as the savage cuts to the public sector within the global north. Massive profits to all the major sectors of imperialism are generated through the relentless minimisation of labor costs. The appearance of disparate interests between populations of workers from the north and the south, is just that–an appearance. It is not the truth. The falsehood can only seem true as long as neoliberalism holds sway as the dominant ideology.

The subjugation of the working class in the global south only benefits the capitalist class. The concoction of racist ideologies disseminated by the mainstream media gives the appearance of divergent interests among the international proletariat. As Marx and Engels put it in the Communist Manifesto, “the executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.” (p 15). Capitalist states all over the world restrict the free movement of labouring people just as much as they promote the free movement of money. This is the fundamental way in which capitalism is developed today. Racism has always been an ideological stick wielded by the global capitalist ruling class, but never before has it seemed so all-pervasive, and apparently widely-accepted by the population of the core of imperialism. Racism, xenophobia, and demonisation of refugees is the most important ideological agenda for the capitalist class right now. While the global ruling class uses massive bodies of armed people to physically coerce the workers of the global south, their strategy in the north is much more insidious.

The global ruling class opts to poison the minds of as much of the population of the global north as possible. Racism and xenophobia is a classic divide and conquer strategy. it is as simple as it is evil.

As Lenin wrote in Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism,

The receipt of high monopoly profits by the capitalists in one of the numerous branches of industry, in one of the numerous countries, etc., makes it economically possible for them to bribe certain sections of the workers, and for a time a fairly considerable minority of them, and win them to the side of the bourgeoisie of a given industry or given nation against all the others. The intensification of antagonisms between imperialist nations for the division of the world increases this urge. And so there is created that bond between imperialism and opportunism, which revealed itself first and most clearly in Great Britain, owing to the fact that certain features of imperialist development were observable there much earlier than in other countries (page 298)

While the working class is divided over mythical internal antagonisms, their class enemies more and more get away with hyper exploitation, in pursuit of ever more elusive profit margins. The origins of racism in the global north are directly caused by capitalism’s need to maximise profit. The most effective way to do this is to minimise wages, or as economists put it - production costs. Racism is an artificial concept that is predicated upon, and feeds into the notion that some groups of humans are simply deserving of less, and this is exactly the myth that capitalists must promulgate in order to avoid outright class warfare.

This is the reason why the vilification of refugees, and various migrant groups is a prevailing feature of capitalism today. It is because the ruling class requires the maintenance of false and immoral ideas in order to keep the global working class divided, so that they may maintain hegemonic rule. The capitalist state, as the organising committee of the ruling class is directly interested in quelling all social movements which aim to affirm working class solidarity. This is evidenced by the repeated historical and present efforts of states to crack down on all militant unionised action - particularly that of mass striking. Strikes directly cause fraternisation between white and non-white people. The recognition of shared humanity is unavoidable, and this in and of itself is threatening to bourgeois ideology. Boots Riley provides some useful historical context in a recent interview:

Racism, or the creation of the idea of race and the racist ideas that formed around it, was necessary for the creation of capitalism. Slavery was necessary. Before that you always had groups of people that didn’t like each other, but it was around nations. There was no one who thought that the people from Ireland somehow because they looked the same were similar to the people from France. It was easier to justify that these darker-skinned people were different than the rest of the European working class, and that it was okay, by saying, ‘This is a different race.’ This is a different species, basically, is what they were saying. ‘You don’t have to worry, white working class’ — that was how they ensured capitalism was able to work. It’s something that still has utility to this day, in the same way. Racist ideas about people of color are how poverty is now explained: that there are cultural deficiencies people of color have, such as families not being together, or even just outwardly racist ideas like we’re stupid or savage or we have this aggressiveness that I need to learn away…You’re not going to get rid of racism without getting rid of capitalism. On the other hand, you’re not going to be able to have a movement that gets rid of capitalism without also working to get rid of racism at the same time. Citation

As previously established, the union movement is only alive in so far as it is able to further the essential interests of the working class. Consequently the policies of imperialist capitalism are diametrically opposed to the efforts of union movements that fight for the interests of the working class. This helps explain the state of the leadership of the Australian union movement today. Much of the leadership of the Australian trade union movement remains under the control of Laborism. Laborism is the political philosophy of the Australian Labor Party. It is the philosophy that, through class collaborationism, unions affiliated to the Labor party can bring about the effective development of neoliberalism in Australia. The ALP is what Lenin called a ‘capitalist workers party’. It is a party of class collaboration which serves to help promote and strengthen the development of capitalism in Australia. The introduction of neoliberalism into Australia was sold on the compromise that if unions agreed to suppress the growth of wages, greater economic ‘‘productivity’’ in Australia would lead to an increase in living standards for the working class. Australia indeed enjoyed a period of relative prosperity during the beginning of neoliberalism, but this ‘‘growing of the pie’’ actually lead to the relative decrease in the percentage of working class wages as a component of overall GDP. Now the lie that neoliberalism actually benefits anyone no longer needs to be maintained. ‘‘Secure work’’ is now almost impossible to find if you are starting work at a new job today. The emergence of increasingly insecure sections of the economy - such as the ‘gig economy’ reflect the reality of capitalism - capital strives to maximise the rate of profit, at any cost to the working class. Suffice to say, the claim that the marketplace will provide any benefits for the mass of people has proven itself again and again to be unfounded.

“It is not enough for an economy to deliver headline growth statistics. The aggregate numbers are only part of the picture. Sitting below the numbers are communities, businesses and workplaces. Economic relationships make up the bulk of our social relationships. The jobs we do, where we work and how we relate make up the essence of our day-to-day lives. The economy is not separate from the social system. It is an integral part of a culture and a way of life.” (Lindy Edwards, How to Argue with an Economist, xvi)

This explains why much of the leadership of the Australian union movement remains captured by position that certain imperialist capitalist ventures can sectionally aid the interests of the Australian working class. It is because the Laborist leaders of the Australian union movement are more interested in maintaining the power of the ALP and its neoliberal agenda, instead of forwarding the actual interests of the working class. Take for instance the enormous coal mine that the federal government and the Adani corporation wants to build in Queensland. The leadership of several unions in Queensland have refused to come out in outright opposition to it, citing that in the short term, it would help them secure employment for their members. This kind of cynical, contentless analysis is a dead end for the working class, and can only ever lead to transient gains. Without democratic control over the value created by workers, there can be no just, common future.

Unionism has a future as an institution for progressive transformational change in our lives in so far as it addresses the dynamics of capitalism as they are. This means grasping fully the role that racism and xenophobia serves to help perpetuate capitalism. The capitalist mode of production is a given set of transitory social relations and it does not suit the human condition well, Capitalism’s failures do not implicate the mass of ordinary, working people. Workers of the world are fully capable of realising the full extent to which they yield this transformative power. The haze of bourgeois mystification hangs heavy only so long as the working class are disorganised. Active, collective, principled struggle is the most liberatory praxis.

A Proof for Moral Realism: Part B

Tue, 19 Jun 2018 10:47:55 +1000

Introduction #

In the last chapter we were concerned to argue that if moral facts did not exist, then epistemic facts did not exist. This is the first premise in Cuneo’s Argument for moral realism. Let us recount Cuneo’s Argument:

If moral facts do not exist, epistemic facts do not exist.
Epistemic facts exist.
So, moral facts exist.
Therefore, moral realism is true.

We were concerned to define exactly what Cuneo takes moral realism and epistemic realism to mean, and we argued that there are four important similarities between moral facts and epistemic facts so defined, and that this establishes the first premise of Cuneo’s Argument.

Cuneo also adds an extra premise to his argument in Chapter 3 of The Normative Web. It is called the Parity Premise. It is concerned to argue that if moral facts do not have several kinds of objectionable features that moral antirealists point out that they have, then nothing in nature can have them. Therefore moral facts do not exist, because they are argued to have the features. The consequence of this argument is that because epistemic facts also share these objectionable features with moral facts, as shown in Defending the Parallel, then epistemic facts do not exist either.

Because recounting Cuneo’s argument throughout another chapter would be laborious and a waste of time, considering it has been done in Cuneo’s book already, we will very quickly describe what the various antirealist objections to moral facts are, and assume that Cuneo has successfully established this final argumentation in establishing that if moral facts did not exist, neither would epistemic facts.

The various features of moral facts to which antirealists object are the following:

Moral facts are ‘queer’ entities;
Moral facts are intrinsically motivating;
Moral facts are categorical in nature, or imply categorical reasons;
Moral facts require a magical story about how we gain cognitive access to them;
Moral facts ‘don’t explain anything’, or fail to play a wide range of explanatory roles in nature;
Specific moral facts are the subject and foundation of great disagreement. Only facts that everyone agree about can be objective.

As I said above, I will not rehearse Cuneo’s arguments against these three objections about moral facts. These arguments are not relevant for this thesis. The point of these first two chapters of this thesis is to present the substance of Cuneo’s Argument for moral realism. The first chapter of this thesis, where we recounted Cuneo’s Defending the Parallel, gives us enough reason to reject these arguments. We established that moral facts and epistemic facts are virtually identical entities. Therefore if moral facts supposedly have these features, so do epistemic facts.

As Cuneo shows, these objections are either not troubling, as in the case of categorical reasons, or premised on unsound arguments, such as objection 4, about cognitive access, and objection 5, about explanatory roles. For reference, please see Chapter 3 of The Normative Web for Cuneo’s actual arguments.

In this chapter we will perform an argument by elimination that epistemic facts do irreducibly exist. By examining and rejecting the most popular types of epistemic antirealism, I hope to prove that epistemic realism must be accepted. There are broadly three kinds of epistemic antirealism: epistemic nihilism, epistemic expressivism, and epistemic reductionism. Epistemic antirealism is an unpopular position in analytic philosophy, but the purpose of this chapter is not so much to reject epistemic nihilism but argue from analogy that if one was committed to moral antirealism, they would also have to be committed to epistemic antirealism. Therefore, what we are really discussing are analogues to moral antirealism reflected into epistemic realism.

Epistemic anti-realism is the position that claims or propositions that aim to describe or explain knowledge about the world do not successfully achieve this aim. By contrast, epistemic realism maintains that it is possible to make successful claims—have proper knowledge—about the world. The flow-on commitment to which epistemic anti-realism commits the anti-realist is that one must be sceptical about the external world. Epistemic anti-realism might commit one to a kind of subjectivism about knowledge about the external world. It might also commit one to projectivism, just as some have embraced this position with respect to moral propositions. As we will see below, if one were to adopt a non-traditional expressivist attitude towards epistemic facts, one would say that there are quasi-facts about the external world, but not full-blooded facts.

In this chapter we will consider the most popular form of anti-realism about moral entities in its epistemic analogue—expressivism. There also exists epistemic reductionism as a kind of anti-realism about knowledge, but that is not the chief focus of this thesis. In any case, the most popular moral anti-realist position adopted when analytic philosophers embrace bald naturalism is expressivism about morality. Focusing closely on this position will aid our discussion of John McDowell’s philosophy in the next part of this thesis greatly. This is because McDowell is concerned to address the very popular position of moral expressivism.

The point of this chapter is to show that opponents of moral antirealism don’t have a case: we should reject their position. The overall purpose of this chapter, therefore, is to finish the second part of Cuneo’s Argument, which will prove the conclusion that moral realism is true. By proving the conclusion of Cuneo’s Argument, we will prove the key premise of the Core Argument of first chapter. This will in turn prove the conclusion of the Core Argument. The conclusion is that bald naturalism is false and should be rejected.

Cuneo achieves this aim by showing that epistemic expressivism, be it in the form of traditional, strong expressivism, or weaker, non-traditional expressivism, fails to meet the Expressivist’s Challenge. This is position that starts off by claiming that realism about certain types of proposition are ontologically unparsimonious. They commit one to too much. It is awkward and undesirable to be committed to holding that there are entities and relations in the world that do particular things. Take moral facts for instance. Moral realists take it that certain speech acts or other kinds of behaviour commit scholars to holding that certain kinds of entities exist in the world. If they didn’t exist, the speech acts that people commit would not work properly, and human behaviour would be inexplicable.

The expressivist says we do not need to be commited to entities such as epistemic facts or moral facts, or any other kind of entity, abstract or inexplicable by science or otherwise. They argue that we can give full explanations of everything that people do in epistemic or moral discourse, just as realism tries to do, while not be committed to any of the same ontologies that realism is. The upshot of all of this is that expressivism maintains that the appearance that we may be engaging in a realist form of discourse about knowledge or morality is not massively in error. Expressivists argue that the correct analysis of, say, speech acts about knowledge is not epistemic nihilism, which holds that epistemic facts do not obtain and therefore certain kinds of speech acts are necessarily false. They argue that it is just fine to say that the human discourse has a realist appearance, although it is in fact not realist at all.

The challenge, therefore, is to give an account of how types of human discourse appear realist, but in reality are not. The whole manouver requires the expressivist to carefully avoid nihilism—which claims that there is even something massively false about the realist appearance of human discourse.

We will begin this chapter by outlining and carefully analysing epistemic nihilism. We will show that it is a highly undesirable position to hold with respect to discourse about knowledge. Then, in the rest of this chapter, we will systematically demonstrate how every kind of expressivism does not meet the Expressivist’s Challenge. We will show, following Cuneo, that every kind of epistemic expressivism collapses into nihilism. Expressivism of this kind cannot successfully avoid the conclusion that because certain types of discourse in reality fail to be realist, therefore their surface realist-seeming appearance must therefore be massively in error.

Epistemic Nihilism #

The purpose of this part of the chapter is to outline and explain the terrible pitfull of anti-realism that every kind of anti-realist about certain kinds of discourse wants to avoid: nihilism. The anti-realist conclusion of nihilism about a certain kind of human discourse is that that discourse is massively in error in both appearance and reality. The prescriptive implication of nihilism is any discourses it admits of being massively in error should be cut out of human discourse completely. If this was moral discourse, nihilists would say there should be no more discourse about morality. If it was normativity, they would say there should be no more discourse about values.

In this part of the thesis we look at epistemic nihilism. The point of explaining epistemic nihilism is that if one is committed to moral nihilism, one should be commited to epistemic nihilism. This is because of the special effort we put into the first chapter of this thesis. Epistemic and moral discourse are so similar that if one is committed to a certain kind of anti-realism about one, they should be commited to anti-realism of the other.

By analysing nihilism carefully, we will be able to show how expressivism about epistemic discourse can’t avoid collapsing into it. Just as a great many philosophers commit themselves to moral expressivism, we can show that the corresponding epistemic expressivism they should be committed to actually commits them to a kind of global nihilism—and no-one would commit themselves to this position because it would say all of human rationality is massively in error and everything we know is nonsense.

Let’s begin our analysis of epistemic nihilism.

Epistemic nihilism is encompassed by a Speech Act Thesis, an Alethic Thesis, and an Ontic Thesis just like any form of epistemic realism. In fact this is how we will be dealing with every type of epistemic realism and antirealism. Every type of epistemic antirealism can be defined using these three types of theses, and our analysis will proceed by defining each type of epistemic antirealism like this.

Epistemic nihilists adopt the follow three theses:

The Epistemic Realist’s Speech Act Thesis: Some epistemic discourse is assertoric.

The Epistemic Nihilist’s Alethic Thesis: If the content of a predicative epistemic claim is true, then it is true in the realist sense, and no such content is true.

The Nihilist’s Alethic Thesis is explained by the Nihilist’s Ontic Thesis:

The Epistemic Nihilist’s Ontic Thesis: If there are any particular epistemic facts, then they are as the realist says, and there are no such facts (Cuneo, 2007: 116).

As one can observe, epistemic nihilists do not try to offer any sort of expressivist or deflationary account or reinterpretation of epistemic discourse. Epistemic discourse is, according to the nihilist’s account, generally as it seems: robustly assertoric. Further to this, as Cuneo explains, epistemic nihilists agree with epistemic realists insofar as they hold that deflationary and epistemic theories of truth should be rejected in favour of the realist conception of truth.

The First Undesirable Result #

Cuneo says that analysing epistemic nihilism is important because the objections to which nihilism is vulnerable also apply to the other species of epistemic antirealism. These other types of epistemic antirealism attempt to avoid the pitfalls of epistemic nihilism, but as we shall see in the chapter, they also apply. Our analysis of every kind of epistemic antirealism is furthered a great deal if we carefully analyse and work out what is wrong with epistemic nihilism. So, being very thorough at looking at epistemic nihilism will help our overall task in this chapter greatly. The point of performing the discussion below is that each of the undesirable results of epistemic nihilism are so unattractive that any minimally adequate philosophical theory would try their best to avoid having such results.

The thesis that Cuneo develops is that epistemic nihilism is deeply unattractive because it implies what he calls ’the three undesirable results’ (Cuneo, 2007: 117).

The first undesirable result of epistemic nihilism is that it results in a higher-order version of the ’liars paradox’. If we hold to the epistemic nihilist’s ontic thesis, we have no reason to believe anything. But if this is the case, we have no reason to believe the epistemic nihilist’s ontic thesis either. This circularity results in one holding to a paradoxical belief, if one believes epistemic nihilism. This is a very undesirable result (Cuneo, 2007: 117).

If epistemic nihilists do hold that there are no epistemic reasons to believe their position, then their position is, as Cuneo says, “polemically toothless”: “no one would make a rational mistake in rejecting it and no one would be epistemically praiseworthy in accepting it” (Cuneo, 2007: 117). This leads to the First Undesirable Result:

The First Undesirable Result: Either epistemic nihilism is self-defeating and, hence, we have no (sufficient) reason to believe it, or, it implies that there are no epistemic reasons, and a fortiori, that we have no reason to believe it (Cuneo, 2007: 118).

The Second Undesirable Result #

The second undesirable result emerges from looking at the second horn of the dilemma we found in the First Undesirable Result. Cuneo says that if we grasp the second horn of the dilemma above, we may not be committed to consequences as severe as grasping the first. Cuneo says, “at worst, it might seem to imply that epistemic nihilists are only committed to accepting a Moorean paradox of the following sort”:

(1) Epistemic nihilism is true, but there is no reason to believe it (Cuneo, 2007: 118).

Cuneo explains propositions such as (1) are not benign paradoxes but indeed real absurdities. He shows how this is true. He argues that what is happening in this apparent paradox is that the epistemic nihilist is not necessarily committing themselves to accepting both conjuncts of this proposition. They, Cuneo says, merely appear to be committed to a paradox because we ordinarily think we must accept both conjuncts of the proposition. What is actually happening when we assert this proposition is that the acceptance of the proposition expressed in its second conjunct undercuts the justification or warrant we might have for accepting the proposition in its first conjunct. And the type of justification or warrant in question seems to be epistemic in character—justification or warrant from the perspective of gaining truth. So, Cuneo argues, “if epistemic nihilists grasp the second horn of the dilemma, they appear committed to accepting a proposition, the mere acceptance of which guarantees that is is unjustified or unwarranted” (Cuneo, 2007: 118).

Cuneo argues that if this is the correct analysis of why accepting such a claim as (1) is absurd, we should not attribute to nihilists a benign paradoxical position. This is because nihilists who grasp the second horn of the dilemma deny that anything could have the property of being epistemically justified or warranted. If nihilism is true, a claim such as (1) cannot even rise to the level of a paradox. This may seem laborious and slightly absurd, but this is because a person accepting the claim that there is no reason to believe epistemic nihilism in no way serves as a justification for accepting epistemic nihilism (Cuneo, 2007: 119).

Cuneo concludes, however, that even if this analysis is correct,

[it] does not follow from this that (1) is not an instance of a Moorean paradox. Epistemic nihilism may be false, in which case the position would have the unenviable status of both being false and committing those who accept it to accepting Moorean paradoxical propositions (Cuneo, 2007: 119).

Cuneo will examine whether epistemic nihilism is false in virtue of the second horn of the dilemma in the Third Undesirable Result. For the time being, we have done enough analysis to work out the Second Undesirable Result. The second horn of the dilemma at the current stage of discussion implies a sweeping form of epistemological scepticism is true. Cuneo argues that

[for] if there are no epistemic facts or reasons, then none of our propositional attitudes can exhibit epistemic merits or demerits; none of our propositional attitudes can be justified, warranted, entitled, irrational, a case of knowledge, based on reasons, or the like (Cuneo, 2007: 119).

We can state the Second Undesirable Result formally:

The Second Undesirable Result: Either epistemic nihilism is self-defeating or it implies a radical version of epistemological scepticism according to which no entity can display an epistemic merit or demerit (Cuneo, 2007: 119).

The Third Undesirable Result #

Cuneo takes it that it would be impossible to prove that epistemic nihilism is false, because any attempt to reject nihilism would lead to question-begging arguments. One would have to assume some facet of reality was true, and this would lead to endless question-begging claims.

This inability to produce non-question-begging arguments in favour of rejecting nihilism leads to its third undesirable result. This is that engaging with epistemic nihilism on its own terms implies that there are no arguments for anything at all. Take for instance the following argument Cuneo produces as an example of the question-begging nature of arguments against epistemic nihilism. Cuneo says that the position captured in the second horn of the dilemma discovered in the First Undesirable Result is that there are no epistemic reasons. He asks us to call this position ’nihilism’, for short for the time being. Then, consider this argument:

(2) If nihilism is true, then radical scepticism is true. (3) Radical scepticism is false. (4) So, nihilism is false (Cuneo, 2007: 120).

Cuneo says we can consider this a sound argument, but that it fails as a non-question-begging argument. We can ask, quite rightly, how we could argue for these claims, against ’nihilism’, that there are epistemic reasons, without being question-begging. Cuneo explains that

… suppose we accept the plausible view that, in the paradigmatic case, the premises of an argument are offered in support of its conclusion. … A statement’s being offered as evidential support for a conclusion, however, is just a matter of its being offered as a reason for accepting that conclusion. And, when all goes well, premises are reasons to accept a conclusion. This has two implications.

The first is that there are no non-question-begging arguments that could establish that nihilism is false. Were a person to press such an argument against nihilism, she would endeavour to establish that there are reasons by tacitly assuming that some statements provide evidential support to believe others. But—and this is the second implication—if nihilism were true, it would be impossible that there were premises of an argument that provide evidential support for its conclusion (Cuneo, 2007: 121).

So we have the Third Undesirable Result:

The Third Undesirable Result: Either epistemic nihilism is self-defeating or it implies that there could be no arguments for anything.

Epistemic Nihilism: Rationality Must Be False #

The combination of these three undesirable results is that it would be impossible for what Cuneo calls a ‘minimally rational agent’ to exist. A minimally rational agent is what Cuneo refers to as an agent who at least takes themselves to have reasons for believing what they do (Cuneo, 2007: 123). Epistemic nihilism doesn’t just imply that agents cannot be minimally rational, but that agents cannot be rational at all. There is no reason to believe, know, assert, contend, argue, conclude, or justify anything, according to an epistemic nihilist. The undesirable results of epistemic nihilism should be so incredibly unattractive that no philosopher would ever construct a system that caused that system to have these results. If such a system were to exist, it would mean that everything, even the theory putting forward this view, was necessarily utter nonsense. On the assumption that “ordinary agents have strong reason to be at least minimally rational”, Cuneo argues that it follows that such agents have strong reason to reject epistemic nihilism (Cuneo, 2007: 123).

Epistemic Expressivism: Traditional Views #

Now we move on to the major part of this chapter. In the rest of the chapter I will demonstrate that epistemic expressivism collapses into epistemic nihilism. Performing this discussion is they keystone in the argument of this part of the thesis that being commited to moral anti-realism commits one to epistemic anti-realism.

Expressivism about moral discourse is the most popular and the most innovative position for so-called naturalists to hold. This part of the thesis should not only show that expressivism with respect to moral discourse collapses into nihilism, but that it also terminates in being commited to epistemic nihilism as well.

Cuneo divides the next type of epistemic antirealism into two categories. These are traditional and nontraditional epistemic expressivism. Expressivism is a difficult position with which to engage because it has been developed in incredibly varied ways, and as a result has become a very resourceful position for antirealists. Cuneo opts to trace the position through a series of permutations divided into two camps, traditional and nontraditional expressivism. He starts with the types of expressivism least accommodating of realist appearances of ordinary epistemic thought, right through to those types which are the most accommodating of realism.

In this section of this chapter we will rehearse Cuneo’s arguments for the former type of expressivism: those most hostile to realism, traditional expressivism.

The next section of the chapter turns to consider nontraditional expressivism, which is divided into minimalism and maximalism. Every permutation of expressivism we consider in the rest of this chapter closer and closer resembles epistemic realism. In order to better complete the Expressivist’s Challenge, expressivism borrows more from moral realism, and comes to closer resemble it. In this way, maximalism is the most realist-seeming form of anti-realism about epistemic discourse.

In any case, let us begin our discussion with the expressivism that is the most hostile to realism: what Cuneo calls traditional expressivism. Cuneo outlines traditional expressivism as being comprised of the following four commitments:

The Expressivist’s Ontic Thesis: There are no epistemic facts.

The Expressivist’s Alethic Thesis: The contents of none of our epistemic claims are true in the realist sense.

The Expressivist’s Speech Act Thesis: When an agent sincerely utters a predicative epistemic sentence, that agent does not thereby assert an epistemic proposition, but rather (at least) performs some other speech act as expressing an attitude of endorsement, approval, condemnation, disapproval, or the like toward a non-epistemic state of affairs.

The Expressivist’s Guiding Rationale: Avoid an error-theoretic account of ordinary epistemic discourse (while also avoiding a commitment to epistemic realism).

It can be observed that the Ontic and Alethic theses of traditional epistemic expressivism are identical to those of epistemic nihilism. On the subject of the expressivist’s ontic thesis, Cuneo says expressivists themselves are divided on what the thesis actually implies. Some expressivists maintain that there are no epistemic facts whatsoever, while others claim that there are epistemic ‘facts’ in some more minimal sense of the term.

While the first two theses are identical with epistemic nihilism, expressivism differs with nihilism with its speech act thesis. To expressivists, ordinary epistemic discourse looks like proper assertoric discourse. The difference between realism and expressivism, however, is that expressivism denies that epistemic discourse is truth-apt. As Cuneo says,

expressivists deny that the surface form of epistemic discourse gives us very good reason to believe that it is genuinely assertoric epistemic discourse. We cannot, say expressivists, read off the linguistic function of some area of discourse simply by gazing at its surface syntax (Cuneo, 2007: 127).

The first three commitments, at this stage, encompass a wide range of epistemic expressivist positions such as emotivism, prescriptivism, norm-expressivism, quasi-realism, and assertoric nondescriptivism. What makes all of these positions expressivist is the fourth commitment of expressivism: their guiding rationale. The fourth commitment of expressivism is central to the position when it says that any view that implies that ordinary folk are massively in error about epistemic matters is unacceptable.

This, therefore, is the strategy of epistemic expressivism: Expressivists concede that epistemic realists are correct to say that, if expressivism were true, then there would be no proposition that there is a reason to believe in the sense that realists think of reasons. There is a second stage to their strategy however. In this second stage, expressivists deny that this conceding has any negative results on the grounds that expressivism captures everything we could plausibly mean when we say that a belief is rational, or that we have a reason to accept a proposition, or that a normative judgment is correct (Cuneo, 2007: 130).

Cuneo says this strategy amounts to what he calls ‘The Expressivist’s Challenge’. Expressivism aims to uproot and replace epistemic realism with a less problematic ontology. Expressivism considers the realist’s commitment to epistemic and moral facts is fantastic and magical, and tries to do away with any commitment to these entities, while trying to keep the every appearance of epistemic discourse intact. They have no problem with the fact epistemic discourse seems assertoric, but they admit that epistemic nihilism is an entirely unattractive and problematic position. So the Expressivist’s Challenge is to

Offer a construal of epistemic discourse consistent with expressivism that captures everything that we could plausibly mean by the standard and sincere use of epistemic locutions, but does not imply that ordinary epistemic discourse is systematically in error (Cuneo, 2007: 131).

Following Cuneo, I will argue that traditional expressivism fails to succeed in fulfilling this challenge. Traditional expressivism cannot offer a construal of epistemic discourse that captures everything a realist construal could mean. Since expressivism fails to succeed in its challenge, Cuneo says “the view implies a version of epistemological scepticism that is no less objectionable than that implies by epistemic nihilism” (Cuneo, 2007: 131). This is the central thesis of this part of the chapter in rejecting traditional epistemic expressivism.

The arguments that Cuneo make are as follows: Cuneo presents a version of traditional expressivism, contending hat this view falls afoul of two very plausible claims about epistemic concept-application (Cuneo, 2007: 131). Then, in particular, Cuneo argues that traditional expressivism has a difficult time handling the phenomenon of second-order epistemic judgments (Cuneo, 2007: 131). If these two arguments are right, we will have to reject traditional expressivism as a successful epistemic antirealist position. If expressivism needs to successfully meet its challenge against realism, we will have to consider a nontraditional form of it to see if it fairs any better.

Norm-Expressivism #

Traditional epistemic expressivism can be distinguished from other kinds of expressivism by understanding the Expressivist’s Ontic and Alethic Theses in a robust fashion. As Cuneo says, according to the traditional expressivist views, there are no epistemic facts of any sort, and the content of our epistemic discourse neither purports to represent epistemic reality, nor is truth-apt in any sense (Cuneo, 2007: 132).

We can develop Cuneo’s first objection to traditional expressivism by discussing what Cuneo considers to be the most sophisticated version of traditional expressivism, the norm-expressivist view developed by Gibbard in his Wise Choices, Apt Feelings.

Cuneo says Gibbard’s norm-expressivism is a version of traditional expressivism because it accepts a robust interpretation of the expressivist’s ontic and alethic theses, “while also championing the claim that epistemic discourse is not assertoric but expressive in character” (Cuneo, 2007: 132). Cuneo claimed earlier that a central rationale for embracing these positions is that expressivists want to avoid committing themselves to an error-theoretic account of epistemic discourse like epistemic nihilism does. But Gibbard goes further. He also offers an independent rationale in favour of the speech act thesis.

Gibbard argues that to claim that something is ‘rational’ is to endorse it in some way. The problem for Gibbard with epistemic realism, then, is that he views the assertoric nature of speech to be unable to properly fulfil this ability to endorse a claim as ‘rational’:

What, though, is the special element that makes normative thought and language normative? There is such an element, I am claiming, and it involves a kind of endorsement—and endorsement that any descriptivistic analysis treats inadequately. The problem is not merely that every time one loophole in the analysis is closed, others remain. It is that a single loophole remains unpluggable by descriptivistic analysis (Gibbard, 1990, 33).

Gibbard says that endorsing something as that which ‘makes sense’ is to accept a system of norms that permit that we do that thing. Cuneo says that to accept a system of norms of this kind is for an agent to make a rational ‘judgment’. But “what, though, does Gibbard mean by a ’norm’?” Cuneo asks. Cuneo further asks, “what does he mean when he says that to make a normative judgment is to ‘accept’ a system of norms?” (Cuneo, 2007: 133).

Cuneo explains Gibbard’s answers to these questions. Gibbard doesn’t say much at all about what a norm is, but he does say a great deal about what it is to accept a norm:

For a person to accept a norm, in Gibbard’s view, is for that person to avow that norm and be governed by it. (Gibbard, 1990, 75). When a person accepts a norm, that acceptance plays a psychological role of a certain kind: That person is reliably motivated in certain ways in certain situations, tends to take particular stances in discussions of certain kinds, feels emotions of various sorts in certain kinds of circumstance, and so forth (Cuneo, 133-134).

Gibbard’s account of norms and norm acceptance says a lot about the subjective processes of epistemic discourse, but not a lot about what Cuneo calls the ‘objective pretensions’ of normative discourse. We have already seen that to accept a norm is to be psychologically governed by it, according to Gibbard, so that partially accounts for how normative discourse might seem ‘objective’. Gibbard adds three further qualifications to his theory of norm acceptance to help further account for how normative discourse might seem objective.

First, accepting a norm in epistemic discourse is supposed to be attitude-independent: “Anyone who takes a norm to constitute a requirement of rationality takes a norm to apply independently of his own accepting it” (Gibbard, 1990, 155). Second, norm acceptance is a multi-leveled phenomenon. When one accepts a norm as a requirement of rationality, one is also forced to accept norms of higher orders that require that norm’s acceptance. Third, and finally, accepting a norm is to make conversational demands of others. When someone accepts a norm, they demand that others accept what they are saying, and adopt the same state of mind that that agent espouses.

Further, Gibbard suggests that his argument about ‘rationality’ being the most primitive concept also bolsters his thickening of his expressivist account of the seeming objectivity of normative epistemic discourse. Gibbard says that for an agent to think that a judgment is ‘subjectively rational’ is for her to think its formation or maintenance makes sense in light of her limited information—in light of “what she knows, what she has reason to believe, and the degrees of plausibility she should ascribe to various eventualities given her information (Gibbard, 1990, 89). Cuneo says that

[by] contrast, for an agent to think that a judgment is ‘objectively rational’ is for her to think that it is advisable; it is what makes sense to believe in light of all the facts, whether or not she has any way of knowing them (Gibbard, 1990, 90; Cuneo, 2007: 136).

The Problem of Second-Order Epistemic Judgments #

Cuneo argues that, never mind the fact that this theory of traditional epistemic expressivism does away with a realist conception of epistemic facts, and the content of our judgments about such facts, this paradigmatic case of traditional expressivism doesn’t adequately capture everything we could mean within a realist conception of assertoric discourse about epistemic facts. This is because traditional expressivism cannot adequately account for second-order epistemic judgments.

Cuneo argues that our ordinary epistemic discourse contains platitudes about epistemic facts that encourage a distinction between derivative and non-derivative epistemic merits. Something can be a ‘case of knowledge’, or can ‘rationally entitle someone’ to believe a fact even if it is derivative of some other piece of evidence. Cuneo formalises these platitudes in the following way:

The Prime Epistemic Platitude: Epistemic merit concepts properly apply to a mental state non-derivatively only if it expresses representational content.

The Prime Alethic Platitude: Alethic merit concepts properly apply to a mental state non-derivatively only if it is truth apt (Cuneo, 137).

Cuneo defines the concept of derivative and non-derivative epistemic merits in the following way:

x displays an epistemic merit F non-derivatively if an only if x is F, but not simply because x’s being F is evidence that there is some other entity y that displays an epistemic merit (or x’s being F is otherwise conducive to y’s displaying an epistemic merit).

x displays an epistemic merit F derivatively if and only if x if F, but not non-derivatively (Cuneo, 2007: 140).

Now Cuneo develops their point in the following way: suppose we take a judgment concerning a general epistemic norm—for example, a judgment that one ought to form one’s belief on the basis of adequate evidence. Suppose we call any judgment of this type a ‘first-order E-judgment’ (‘E’ for epistemic). Now, Cuneo says, take a second-order judgment of the following form:

S* judges of S’s first-order E-judgment,
	that it is a case of knowledge,
	that it is warranted,
	that it is justified,
	that it is rational,
	that it is entitled,
	that it (epistemically) ought to be accepted,
	etc.

Call any such judgment a ‘second-order E-judgment’. A first-order E-judgment carries with it non-derivative epistemic merit, because it presumably carries alethic content which is truth apt, and robustly represents some truth-maker in the world. A second-order E-judgment is a type of derivative epistemic merit. That is because it refers and makes judgment derivatively on S’s first-order E-judgment. A second-order judgment applies the non-derivative merit to the first-order judgment with its formation.

There is a fundamental problem with the way traditional expressivism attempts to account for the way second order epistemic judgements. For example, the traditional expressivist says that to make a second-order E-judgment is just to accept higher-order norms which permit the holding of some first-order E-judgment. There is a problem with this construal of the content platitudes of Prime Epistemic Merit, and Prime Alethic Merit. Expressivism does not imply that first-order E-judgments carry alethic merit at all. Expressivism asserts that judgments are not in the business of representing reality. If this is the case, first-order E-judgments cannot be cases of non-derivative epistemic merit. If we follow traditional expressivism in construing the expressivist’s alethic and ontic theses robustly, it seems impossible that we could ever have second-order epistemic judgments. If we were a traditional epistemic expressivist, and we took second-order E-judgments to apply non-derivative alethic merit to first-order judgments, we could be committing a category error (Cuneo, 2007: 141). We would be systematically in error in our ordinary everyday epistemic discourse. The content platitudes we take for granted in our everyday doings and knowings would be systematically wrong, because expressivism explains that second-order E-judgments are wrong to attribute any kind of alethic merit to first-order E-judgments.

But traditional expressivism is not supposed to challenge the surface syntax of our everyday assertoric-seeming discourse. It is simply supposed to redescribe what we are doing without reference to the supposedly problematic ontology of realism. Expressivism says we are not systematically in error when we engage in everyday discourse, we really just don’t represent or refer to facts at all. But if we took second-order E-judgments not to apply non-derivative alethic merit to first-order E-judgments, like expressivism says we should not, then we cannot speak of second-order E-judgments as being epistemic judgments at all (Cuneo, 2007: 142-143). If we follow traditional expressivism’s assumptions to their logical conclusions, we can only speak of first-order E-judgments that have no alethic merit whatsoever.

The consequence of traditional expressivism not being able to accommodate second-order epistemic judgments is that it doesn’t capture everything we can mean when we engage in realist assertoric epistemic discourse. Traditional expressivism concludes we are in systematic error when we talk about second-order epistemic judgments, because they don’t exist according to what its alethic and ontic theses imply.

Cuneo says the problem traditional expressivism has with second-order epistemic judgments generalises to first order epistemic judgments (Cuneo, 2007: 136). Cuneo argues norm-expressivist first-order judgments can depend on second-order judgments. If an agent’s ‘subjective circumstances’ were to include second-order E-judgments of various kinds—such as ‘it is rational to judge that one ought to form one’s belief on the basis of adequate evidence’, that ‘one is rationally entitled to bring one’s knowledge to bear on the formation of judgments’, etc—then it is plausible to believe that norm-expressivist analysis of first-order judgments depends on second-order judgments. Therefore whatever problems attend to second-order E-judgments above applies to the norm-expressivist analysis of first-order judgments.

Therefore traditional expressivism terminates in a strong form of epistemological scepticism. The consequence of traditional scepticism is that there are no reasons for knowing anything in the realist sense, or any other sense acceptable to traditional expressivists. Traditional expressivism thus has a great deal in common with epistemic nihilism, in arguing that normal realist-seeming assertoric discourse is massively in error, which means it fails to meet the Expressivist’s Challenge.

Epistemic Expressivism: Nontraditional Views #

While traditional epistemic expressivism is much closer to epistemic nihilism as a kind of epistemic antirealism, nontraditional expressivism is closer to realism. As Cuneo says, nontraditional expressivist views concede large amounts of conceptual territory to realism. Nontraditional forms of expressivism, for instance, concede epistemic thought and discourse are both truth-apt and representative (Cuneo, 2007: 146).

Nontraditional expressivism does this by embracing what Cuneo calls the ‘deflationary package’. Cuneo says that

[the] deflationary package is a set of claims about the character of epistemic discourse, truth, representation, and facthood, which offers a deflationary account of these notions (Cuneo, 2007: 127).

Deflationism with respect to some sorts of entities is a degreed phenomenon, with some positions being more deflationary, and others being less. For this reason Cuneo divides nontraditional expressivism into two types: minimalist and maximalist types of expressivism. Minimalist types of nontraditional expressivism are closer to their traditional expressivist cousins. They are the least realist-like expressivist of the nontraditional types. Maximalist nontraditional expressivism is much closer to realism than any other type of expressivism, and seems much more like a kind of realism than any other. Cuneo says quasi-realist views, such as those defended by Simon Blackburn, can easily fit into either category.

In this part of the chapter we will rehearse Terence Cuneo’s chapter on nontraditional expressivism, and why we should reject it as a kind of epistemic antirealism. We will first outline what the minimalist and maximalist types of nontraditional expressivism are. We will then discuss and argue against minimalist expressivism. The two objections Cuneo performs are the ‘modal’ and ‘perspective’ objections. Both of these objections charge that minimalist expressivism cannot meet the Expressivist’s Challenge. We then turn to maximalist expressivism. While neither of these objections apply to maximalism, we will argue that the position in nevertheless incoherent. At the end of this part of the chapter we will be able to conclude that none of the forms of epistemic expressivism are acceptable as a kind of epistemic antirealism.

Common Commitments of Nontraditional Expressivism #

The above four commitments of traditional expressivism apply also nontraditional expressivism, albeit in modified form. Each of the three theses of traditional expressivism are modified for the nontraditional form, and the Guiding Rationale stays the same:

The Expressivist’s Modified Ontic Thesis: There are no epistemic facts, only epistemic quasi-facts.

The Expressivist’s Modified Alethic Thesis: The contents of some epistemic claims are true, but only in a deflationary sense.

The Expressivist’s Modified Speech Act Thesis: When an agent sincerely utters a predicative epistemic sentence, that agent does not thereby assert an epistemic proposition, but rather ‘asserts’ an epistemic quasi-proposition.

The Expressivist’s Guiding Rationale: Avoid an error-theoretic account of ordinary epistemic discourse (while also avoiding a commitment to epistemic realism) (Cuneo, 2007: 147).

Minimalism Stated #

Cuneo then discusses what each of these four elements of expressivism amount to in the case of minimalist nontraditional expressivism.

The First Component: Epistemic Discourse #

Minimalist nontraditional expressivism holds that epistemic discourse is assertoric only in the sense that it consists in an agent’s performing speech acts that express epistemic quasi-propositions. These entities are the ’non-descriptive’ content of these speech acts. Cuneo explains what this means. Cuneo writes:

In his Morality without Foundations, Mark Timmons notes that at the heart of the realist polemic against moral expressivism lies a simple but attractive argument that rests on three assumptions. The first assumption—what Timmons calls the ‘semantic assumption’—tells us that moral assertions and beliefs (if any there be) are such that their content aims to represent moral reality. The second assumption—what Timmons dubs the ’thesis of semantic unity’—tells us that the grammatical and logical trappings that constitute a discourse are indicative of the real semantics of that discourse. The third assumption—call it the ’empirical thesis’—says that moral discourse does in fact manifest the grammatical and logical trappings of assertoric discourse. Since these three assumptions are jointly incompatible with traditional expressivism, expressivists have been forced to reject at least one of them. And almost without exception, expressivists have opted to reject the second assumption, thereby committing themselves to the view that the grammatical and logical trappings of moral discourse function not to reveal, but to mask its deep expressive structure (Cuneo, 2007: 148-149).

Timmons proposes a different form of expressivism. Timmons suggests we reject the semantic assumption, the first assumption, and retain the second and third assumptions. He therefore argues that expressivists can hold that moral discourse is assertoric, but isn’t actually in the business of representing reality.

This kind of expressivism claims that epistemic expressivism isn’t trying to represent or describe reality at all. Expressivists of this kind argue that there are two different kinds of content that assertions are supposed to express: descriptive and non-descriptive content. As Cuneo says, descriptive content aims to represent reality. For an agent to to assertively express some descriptive content p is for her to purpose to represent the fact that p. In this way, descriptive content is propositional content as it is ordinarily understood.

Cuneo explains, on the other hand, that non-descriptive content resembled descriptive content because it manifests some of the features of descriptive content, like “[embedding] in propositional attitude ascriptions and conditionals, being truth-apt (in a deflationary sense), and being irreducible to what is expressed in non-declarative sentences such as imperatives and questions” (Cuneo, 2007: 149-150).

However, non-descriptive content neither attempts to represent, or successfully represents what the world is like:

To perform a speech act that expresses some non-descriptive content p, then, is not thereby to purport to represent the fact that p; it is rather to do something different such as ’evaluate’ a state of affairs. Nondescriptive content, as we might put it, is quasi-propositional content—where quasi-propositions are entities whose job description includes mimicking propositions in certain important respects, but which do not purport to represent the world (Cuneo, 2007: 149-150).

The Second Component: Truth #

The second component of the deflationary package in the minimalist nontraditional expressivist context is that the contents of some epistemic claims are true, albeit only in a deflationary sense. Cuneo takes this to mean that the contents of some epistemic claims are true, but their being true consists simply in their having a non-robust truth property. Cuneo further explains that to predicate truth of the content of an epistemic claim is not to say that it has some robust truth property, but to do something else such as commend that claim, repeat it, predicate of it a non-robust truth property, or the like (Cuneo, 2007: 155).

Cuneo writes that, according to deflationists, the function of the truth term is is not to pick out some property or relation whose underlying structure will be revealed by philosophical or scientific analysis (Cuneo, 2007: 150-151). We can understand the truth term as the predicate ‘is true’ in the following proposition:

P is true, if and only if p.

Epistemic realists interpret the truth term in propositions such as the above as holding to a robust truth property. This means that realists take the predicate is true to imply some interesting and substantial meaning. The way Cuneo puts it is that a robust truth property is one which is amenable to a certain kind of conceptual analysis, what he calls ‘accounting for analysis’ (Cuneo, 2007: 153).

Cuneo asks us to suppose that a truth property is amenable to accounting for analysis if and only if it can be analysed by the following schema:

For all p, if p is true, then p is true simply in virtue of C.

This is where ‘p’ ranges over the content of either mental states or sentences. Cuneo explains why we would entertain this kind of schema in defining what a robust truth property is. Accounting for analysis is a process of discovering the necessary and sufficient conditions for the presence of the truth property:

So, for example, assuming that ‘p’ stands for the content of an atomic claim, ‘C’ might be something such as its being a fact that p, p’s obtaining in the actual world, p’s being ideally justifiable, p’s being pragmatically useful, and so forth. As such, the ‘in virtue’ locution as it is used in this schema designates the truth-making relation. … The ‘in virtue’ relation is an asymmetrical dependence relation—a supervenience or ‘accounting for’ relation, as I’ve called it—that in this case obtains between the content of claims, on the one hand, and states of affairs, facts, situations, or propositions on the other (Cuneo, 2007: 153).

Expressivists of the kind we are discussing disagree that one can use accounting for analysis to understand truth as a property. They hold that there is no kind of conceptual analysis we can perform that helps us explain the meaning of truth as a property. They resist the idea that one can give any kind of detailed informative explanation for what a truth property or truth term is. Deflationists about truth in this sense hold that there is not one common feature true propositions have in common, because there is nothing informative to say about what it means for something to be true. As such, Cuneo says we can state the minimal core of deflationary views in the following way:

The Minimal Core Regarding Truth: (i) The truth term is not a robust truth predicate, and (ii) there is a property of being true, but it is non-robust (Cuneo, 2007: 154).

The Third Component: Representation #

The third component of the deflationary package tells us that epistemic thought and discourse are representational, but this is to be understood only in a deflationary sense. Expressivists of the kind we are discussing hold representation relations to only hold in a non-robust sense.

Much of what we said about the truth term in propositions applies to what expressivists think about the representation relation. Realists hold that both the truth predicate making the truth and the representation relation describing the bearing of the truth hold in a robust way. Cuneo takes this to mean that they are amenable to accounting for analysis. That means we can analyse in an interesting and substantial sense what representation means.

We might hold to a correspondence or identity theory of truth, for instance, and these theories of truth could account for analysis of what the representation relation bearing truth is, and what it means. Expressivists of the nontraditional sort hold that this is not true, and that representation does not amount to anything interesting or substantial. Cuneo therefore describes the minimal core of the deflationary package as being thus:

The Minimal Core Regarding Representation: (i) Representation terms are not robust representation predicates, and (ii) there are representation relations, but they are non-robust (Cuneo, 2007: 156).

The Fourth Component: Facts #

The fourth component of minimalist nontraditional epistemic expressivism is that there are not epistemic facts, but epistemic ‘quasi-facts’. Quasi-facts are to be understood as virtual objects. Realists hold that epistemic facts are what make epistemic claims true, and what are represented by such claims. Epistemic quasi-facts, according to expressivists, are also facts of a certain kind. But, they are neither truth-makers nor what is represented by epistemic claims. Cuneo explains

[that] epistemic quasi-facts are not truth-makers is implied by what minimalist expressivists say about epistemic discourse and truth; for according to expressivists, there is nothing that accounts for the fact that a quasi-proposition is true. That epistemic quasi-facts are not represented by epistemic claims is also implied by what minimalist expressivists say about epistemic discourse; for according to what minimalists say, epistemic claims are not in the business of representing epistemic states of affairs (Cuneo, 2007: 158).

However, if quasi-facts aren’t in the business of being truth-makers for claims, or being the content of anything representational, what’s the point of having an ontology that talks about quasi-facts at all? Cuneo explains that expressivists hold that once we admit epistemic claims are true, then epistemic ‘facts’ come ‘for free’ (Cuneo, 2007: 158). Cuneo argues that minimalist expressivists hold to an account of epistemic facts are ‘virtual facts’, or what Cuneo says Bertrand Russell called ’logical fictions’ (Cuneo, 2007: 159).

These virtual facts are not real facts, and they really have no existence. We can just license such talk about them because, as Cuneo says, if we work backwards and establish quasi-propositions, and quasi-representational relations, we get quasi-facts ‘for free’. These virtual facts which are not the content of any proposition, and are not truth-makers either, necessarily come along with the deflationary package.

Against Minimalism #

We have now rehearsed Cuneo’s definition of the ‘deflationary package’, which explains what minimalist expressivists mean by the modified theses of nontraditional expressivism. We can now rehearse Cuneo’s rejection of this type of expressivism. Like we have said above, realists hold that epistemic discourse is assertoric, that some such discourse is true and representative, and that there are epistemic facts—minimalist expressivists agree with all of this, but they construe these claims in a deflationary sense. Speech acts only establish quasi-propositions, which establish mere quasi-representation relations using quasi-truth predicates, which refer to mere quasi-facts, virtual facts.

Cuneo makes two objections against minimalist expressivism: the first is the modal objection, and the second is the perspective objection. The two objections attempt to prove that minimalist expressivism does not succeed in the Expressivist’s Challenge: minimalist expressivism does not capture everything we could plausibly mean when we engage in ordinary epistemic thought and discourse without implying such thought and discourse is massively in error.

There are two parts to Cuneo’s modal objection to minimalist expressivism. The first is that we should reject minimalism because it is committed to two incompatible claims: first, that possibly epistemic quasi-facts exist, and second, that necessarily such facts do not exist.

The second is very similar to the rejection from Cuneo that we rehearsed about traditional expressivism. This is that we can’t seem to capture everything we could plausibly mean in our ordinary epistemic discourse about non-derivative epistemic merit.

Let’s consider the first part of the argument of this objection. Cuneo says that if we assume that there are quasi-propositions that establish quasi-representational relations, we must be committed to the existence of quasi-facts (Cuneo, 164). The quasi-representational relation established by the deflationary account of propositions must have some sort of content, and that content has to be quasi-facts. Cuneo says it doesn’t make any sense to be committed to propositions or representationalism in any form, be it realist or deflationary, without being committed to some sort of representational content (Cuneo, 164).

But expressivists are only committed to representational content in virtual terms only. They are not serious about the existence of any form of representational content in their deflationary account of epistemic discourse because they firmly hold that epistemic discourse doesn’t represent anything at all. Cuneo argues, however, that this flatly contradicts the entire system that they have set up. The deflationary quasi-fact that p has to exist in an deflationary account of epistemic representational discourse because otherwise there would be no representational content to represent. It doesn’t make sense to be committed to representationalism without any representational content.

Now let’s consider the second part of Cuneo’s argument. Cuneo writes:

Consider the following plausible claim: Epistemic merit concepts such as being a case of knowledge properly apply non-derivatively to only those (predicative) claims that represent or represent in some deflationary sense some correlative fact. The plausibility of this claim is underscored by connections we assume to hold between knowledge and representation. Assume that there is no other sense of the term ‘represent’ that that captured by substantive or deflationary accounts of representation terms. It would be paradoxical to say that I know some state of affairs that p, but there is no sense in which my judgment that p is about this state of affairs (Cuneo, 165).

If we were correct in the first part of our argument, and there is no sense in which we can talk about epistemic quasi-facts, then we can’t assign epistemic merit to propositions. If this is the case we end up with a flatly contradictory account of epistemic discourse. We can know things, but we flatly deny they have anything to do with the supposed facts about which that knowledge is to be assigned.

Cuneo says there might be two ways of getting out of this contradiction, but they both end up showing that minimalist expressivism cannot meet the Expressivist’s Challenge. Let’s consider the first escape from the contradiction. The first attempt to fix the problem is just to go along assume we normally assign epistemic merit to epistemic claims anyway in our everyday discourse. But if we do this, then we commit ourselves to concluding our normal epistemic discourse is systematically in error. Because there is necessarily no representational content, on the minimalist’s story of epistemic discourse, we have no grounds to assign any kind of merit at all. Our application of norms to discourse is therefore necessarily false and massively in error, because in ordinary discourse we are in no way entitled to assign any epistemic merit to any representation.

The second attempt to fix the problem is to deny that ordinary discourse actually applies epistemic merit concepts to claims at all. We could attempt to be revisionists about what we mean about ordinary epistemic discourse. I follow Cuneo in saying we should reject this supposed solution as well. If we follow this route, we are not actually capturing everything we plausibly mean about ordinary epistemic discourse. Minimalism therefore fails the other horn of the Expressivist’s Challenge.

Let’s turn to the perspective objection.

The Perspective Objection #

Cuneo’s perspective objection argues that we cannot talk about the external/internal distinction of epistemic discourse that minimalist expressivists make without being incoherent.

Many philosophers embrace epistemic expressivism because they first accept bald naturalism. Bald naturalism excludes the existence of normative entities in the universe, so philosophers who accept bald naturalism easily find themselves turning to moral and epistemic antirealism. However, as we have seen above, either epistemic nihilism or moral nihilism is an incredibly unattractive position to which to hold, so expressivism has become, correspondingly, a very attractive way to have everything you could want about anti-realism about certain discourses, while avoiding the very dangerous conclusions of nihilism—hence scholars commit themselves to the Expressivist’s Challenge.

Expressivists like Blackburn and Crispin Wright adopt a metaphor that the discourse that people engage in, in their everyday lives, sits in either an internal or external perspective about the world. This is is a convenient metaphor to explain how antirealism can be committed to admitting that epistemic discourse certainly seems realist on the surface of its semantics, even though the truth is that there are no epistemic facts as the realist conceives them. In this way expressivists aim to say everything that nihilism wants to say about realism, without being commited to an error-theoretic analysis of epistemic or moral discourse.

The idea is that discourse we opt to treat in an anti-realist fashion is located in an internal perspective of agents engaged in speech acts, and that true, full-blooded, representational discourse obtains in an external perspective. The trouble, Cuneo says, is that expressivists privilege the external perspective of epistemic discourse over the internal. The expressivist says that the external perspective is the true explanation for the mere appearance of what seems to be going on in the internal perspective. What is really going on, the minimalist expressivist says, is the natural scientific ‘metaphysical speculation’ or ’theoretical inquiry’ of the external perspective, to use Terry Horgan and Mark Timmons’s words (Timmons, 1999: 152; Horgan, 2001: 90). The nature of natural scientific intelligibility, they say, is that it is not committed to the existence of epistemic reasons or facts. The natural scientific intelligibility of the external perspective is the foundation for the internal perspective.

The idea is that the external perspective that people are supposed to inhabit when they do natural scientific inquiry is completely devoid of normativity. No facts obtain in this area of discourse, no ‘strange entities’ that admit of warrantability or justifiability exist in this connection, and agents are not accountable or open to assessment when they make certain claims or represent anything to be true. In fact agents represent nothing in this space of discourse. This external perspective is governed completely by efficient causation. It is what McDowell calls ‘Givenness’. We shall see that this kind of external persepective about how we relate ourselves to the world generates a ‘Myth’ about how our minds work—the ‘Myth of the Given’.

I agree with Cuneo when he argues that it seems impossible that anyone could ever inhabit such an external perspective. It seems very difficult to accept that anyone could ever engage in any kind of scientific inquiry without first believing that there are epistemic reasons or facts. What the minimalist expressivist seems to be saying is that natural science is committed to epistemic nihilism, even though it appears prima facie to entertain realist epistemic discourse.

Put simply, I agree with Cuneo that the ’external’ perspective minimalist epistemic expressivists imagine is not a perspective at all. No human could ever inhabit it, and it would never make any sense. Very simply, we would have absolutely no intentionality whatsoever if this external perspective were to exist. Our sayings and doings would not be ‘about’ anything. We would fail to be human at all—we would be the most empty and austere kind of automata, merely following our neurological punch-cards along their path, with no consciousness whatsoever.

Maximalism Stated #

Now that we have dealt with minimalist expressivism, let’s turn to maximalism. Maximalist expressivism about epistemic discourse is almost identical to minimalism, except that it concedes more ground to realism than minimalism. What maximalism concedes specifically is that treats of a more realist-seeming conception of quasi-facts. Recall earlier how we outlined how minimalists only admitted of ‘virtual’ epistemic quasi-facts, entities which were not entities at all. Maximalists are prepared to deal with quasi-facts in a more realist way. Let’s see what that means.

Cuneo writes that Crispin Wright transposes the following passage from Michael Dummett:

The states of affairs which (merely) minimally true sentences represent are no more than reflections on those sentences, sentences which behave, by simple formal criteria, in a manner analogous to sentences which are apt to depict real states of affairs, but whose senses cannot be represented as consisting in our capacity to identify states of affairs necessary and sufficient for their truth (Cuneo, 177; Wright, 1992: 181-182).

Wright continues by pointing out that

the concluding part of … [this] thought might naturally be taken as an expression of (or kind of) irrealism. … But, again, that is not the only possible meaning. The thought can be that understanding such a sentence should not be seen as consisting in a capacity appropriately to respond to the relevant type of truth-conferring states of affairs. For, in parallel to the situation with abstract objects, there seems to be no question of such a state of affairs … directly influencing the thought of someone who lacks the conceptual wherewithal to characterise it, or directly producing any other kind of effect on our consciousness, or on our bodies or non-human objects of any kind. … Like pure abstract objects, the states of affairs purportedly depicted by merely minimally true sentences do not seem to do anything except answer to the demands of our minimally true thoughts. The irresistible metaphor is that … the states of affairs to which … merely minimally true sentences correspond, are no more than shadows cast by the syntax of our discourse. And the aptness of the metaphor is merely enhanced by the reflection that shadows are, after their own fashion, real (Cuneo, Ibid; Wright, Ibid).

Cuneo writes that Wright seems to be distinguishing between two different types of representation. The first kind of representation Wright labels ‘serious’ representation (Wright, 1992: 200). Cuneo says this kind of representation obtains only when a claim represents a state of affairs in virtue of its being a ‘response’ to that state of affairs. The second kind of representation is called ‘weak representation’. Weak representation obtains when and only when a claim ‘depicts’ a state of affairs, but not in virtue of its being a response to it (Cuneo, 178).

The idea behind maximalist expressivism is that quasi-facts are the shadows of the syntax of our epistemic discourse. Our quasi-propositions only weakly represent these quasi-facts. Cuneo goes on to explain that there are some further qualifications to this system that we need to be aware about:

Several conditions, in Wright’s view, must be met if an attitude seriously represents a state of affairs, among which is that it exerts what Wright calls ‘cognitive command’. Roughly, the idea here is that if a statement seriously represents a fact, then any dispute about the truth of that statement must involve a cognitive shortcoming on the part of at least one of the participants in that dispute (Wright, 1992: 92-3, 144). Wright emphasises that this idea tries to capture two intuitions.

The first is that there is a link between realist truth, or genuine facts, and objectivity. If we are really dealing with an objective matter of fact, says Wright, then,

the opinions which we form are in no sense optional or variable as a function of permissible idiosyncrasy, but are commanded of us—that there will be a robust sense in which a particular point of view ought to be held, and a failure to hold which can be understood only as a rational/cognitive failure (Wright, 1992: 146).

So, to use Wright’s example, statements about what is funny do not intuitively exert cognitive command. If two persons were to sit down to watch Abbott and Costello, and if one person were to claim that their dialogue is highly amusing, while the other were to assert that it is tiresome and juvenile, neither would (all else being equal) suffer from a cognitive shortcoming. Either claim would be rationally acceptable.

The second intuition that cognitive command tries to capture is one concerning the nature of representation. Wright puts it thus:

For to think of oneself as functioning in purely cognitive mode, as it were, is, when the products of that function are to be beliefs, to think of oneself a functioning in representational mode; and that idea is then subject to a truism connecting representation and convergence—that representationally functioning systems, targeted on the same subject matter, can produce divergent output only if working on divergent input or if they function less than perfectly. The nerve of the Cognitive Command constraint is a specialisation of that idea to the case where the representational system is a thinking subject engaged in the formation of belief (Wright, 1992: Ibid).

It therefore follows that Wright does not consider moral representation as a ‘serious’ mode of representation, because it does not exert ‘cognitive command’ on agents. Moral representation is not in the business of ‘responding’ to states of affairs, but merely weakly represent states of affairs. As such moral claims do not force agents to think alike, at the cost of being branded cognitively deficient. Wright seems to think moral representation categorically cannot give ‘cognitive command’ to agent’s representational systems.

Against Maximalism #

Maximalism improves on the deficiencies of minimalism. It holds that quasi-facts actually exist, and are not mere virtual entities. It holds that epistemic discourse weakly represents these quasi-facts, and is not a ‘serious’ manifestation of representation. This is the maximalist’s understanding of the modified ontic, alethic and speech act theses.

Cuneo points out that the doctrine of cognitive command is a normative thesis. It tells us that if there is a fundamental dispute between two agents ‘seriously’ representing some fact about the world, then there must be some sort of rational deficiency or cognitive shortcoming with at least one of the the agents, and at least one of the agents ought to view the matter or represent the matter differently.

Cuneo invites us to distinguish between two different types of epistemic norms: robust and weak epistemic norms (Cuneo, 180). A robust epistemic norm is a norm that stipulates that if one does not conform to it, one thereby suffers from a rational failure. Weak epistemic norms are the opposite. If you don’t conform to a weak epistemic norm: no matter. You do not suffer from a rational or cognitive failure. If maximalist expressivism is true about epistemic discourse, then norms about epistemic claims can only be weak in character. This is because all epistemic discourse to the maximalist expressivist is constituted by weak representation and not serious representation.

If our above discussion is correct, then there are two serious problems for maximalist expressivism. These problems should entitle us to reject it as a kind of epistemic antirealism.

The first problem is that maximalism denies that there are strong epistemic norms. All epistemic discourse is governed by weak epistemic norms. But it is given that we do engage in serious representation. As Cuneo points out, Blackburn clearly thinks serious representation applies to physical facts about objects which are cubic and solid. It follows that maximalism doesn’t capture everything we plausibly mean in our everyday epistemic discourse. Maximalism holds that there is no such thing as serious representation, because all epistemic discourse is weak representation. This is not true, so maximalism must be false (Cuneo, 181).

The second problem is that maximalism collapses into a universal epistemological scepticism. If every particular instance of representation is always weak representation, then it follows that strong epistemic norms can never arise. Therefore cognitive command never arises. If this is true, no-one can ever exhibit a rational deficiency or cognitive shortcoming. No-one can ever be wrong about anything in epistemic discourse. It follows that anything can be true in epistemic discourse. Maximalism should therefore present itself as a very unattractive form of epistemic antirealism. Not only does it not meet the Expressivist’s Challenge, but it fairs no better than epistemic nihilism.

Conclusion #

In this chapter we took on a very big task, and this was to analyse and reject the most popular kind of epistemic antirealism, epistemic expressivism. The purpose of doing this was to prove the second key premise in Cuneo’s Argument, that epistemic realism is true. It was my aim to argue that if epistemic expressivism was false or highly unattractive, then epistemic realism must be true. It follows that if we were correct in all of our arguments, then it necessarily follows that moral realism is true, because moral and epistemic discourse are so similar that if one was false, the other one must be false too. If moral realism is true, then bald naturalism must be false. Bald naturalism is false because normativity is a feature that entities of the universe can exhibit.

Since we cannot reject the existence of epistemic facts, construed in the sense of paradigmatic realism as Cuneo defines it, we cannot reject the existence of moral facts. We rejected the validity of epistemic nihilism because it is incredibly unattractive. It is unattractive because it implies that nothing can ever make any sense, or terminates in a very strong form of epistemological scepticism.

We rejected epistemic expressivism of all variants: traditional and nontraditional (of which minimalism and maximalism were species). We rejected these kinds of epistemic antirealism because they could not meet the Expressivist’s Challenge: all kinds of expressivism either implies that ordinary epistemic discourse, despite appearances, was massively and systematically in error, or that epistemic expressivism cannot actually capture everything we could plausibly mean in our ordinary everyday realist-seeming epistemic discourse, and redescribe it in a way what was ’less ontologically problematic’.

A Proof for Moral Realism: Part A

Mon, 28 May 2018 21:40:56 +1000

I Introduction #

This thesis aims to construct a theory of what Richard Hamilton calls a “naturalistic normativism” (Hamilton, 2010). This thesis aims to present arguments for rejecting the current orthodoxy of naturalism in analytic philosophy, what John McDowell calls “bald naturalism” (McDowell, 1996), and what others have termed “Scientific Naturalism” (De Caro and Macarthur, 2004: 1). The theory of naturalism that this thesis aims to present has elsewhere been called Liberal Naturalism (De Caro and Macarthur, 2010: 1).

Naturalism is the orthodox position in analytic philosophy, and is the position that only what is natural is real. This might seem like a fairly innocuous position to hold but it has been transformed into an incredibly imperialistic system. The orthodox interpretation of naturalism in analytic philosophy is that (a) there is no such thing as a First Philosophy; (b) only the ontology and/or methodology of the natural sciences (i.e. the “hard” sciences, physics, chemistry, and biology) describes and explains what it natural; and (c) philosophy is continuous with the natural sciences. I follow John McDowell in labeling this orthodoxy of naturalism “bald naturalism”.

II The Meaning of Bald Naturalism #

Let’s unpack what these three elements of bald naturalism mean.

A No First Philosophy #

The dominant philosophical tradition in the Anglo-American academic sphere before analytic philosophy was Idealism. F. H. Bradley, Josiah Royce, and John McTaggart are all archetypal examples of this tradition. This tradition took great inspiration from German Idealism, and argued that there was a systematic a priori foundation to reality. They firmly believed that in order to make sense of everything, one had to construct a First Philosophy to ground any kind of investigation into the universe. Any kind of ontology or methodology one tried to fashion in the natural sciences needed to be grounded in a rigorously “rational” First Philosophy.

Contemporaneous to Idealism was Positivism. Mario de Caro and David Macarthur argue that this competing philosophical tradition was the first naturalist tradition (De Caro and Macarthur, 2004: 8). De Caro and Macarthur explain that

[the] nineteenth-century positivism of Comte, Mill, Spencer, Mach, and other was a commitment to the idea that scientific knowledge is the only knowledge there is and that philosophical method is nothing other that scientific method. Although science and philosophy of science had been growing in importance since the scientific revolution, the positivists were, in effect, the first fully fledged [bald] naturalist movement (Ibid).

The the beginnings of analytic philosophy saw its inauguration as a kind of hybrid of both Positivism and Idealism. De Caro and Macarthur further explain that

[it] is an important fact about analytic philosophy that its founders strongly attacked [bald] naturalism, even as they called for a scientific philosophy. Frege and Wittgenstein notoriously rejected the positivists’ psychologism in the philosophy of logic. And togher with Russell and the Logical Positivists, they believed that “Philosophy aims at the logical clarification of thoughts” by way of logical or conceptual analysis. Early analytic philosophers believed that philosophy could investigate logic, or elucidate the structure of knowledge or the nature of our concepts, a priori without any help from the empirical sciences (Ibid).

De Caro and Macarthur continue:

Russell’s hopes for a “scientific philosophy” must be understood in the light of a widespread confidence that philosophy is fundamentally distinct from science and that philosophy is authoritative over its own domain of logic. Analytic philosophers followed Russell in hoping that by employing modern methods of logical analysis “philosophy would thus achieve something like the status of a science”, not in becoming science but in adopting a method that, like science, is “co-operative and cumulative” (Ibid).

Early analytic philosophy was thus anti-naturalist in the sense that it posited a First Philosophy. The Logical Positivism of early analytic philosophy argued that there must be a single unified a priori conceptual system into which all knowledge about the universe had to be organised into in order to be truthful.

The transition of analytic philosophy into naturalism as the dominant philosophical tradition radically rejected this position. As Macarthur and de Caro say,

[no] one is more important in undermining this early analytic conception of the relation of philosophy and science that W. V. Quine. His attack on the analytic/synthetic distinction and the possibility of traditional a priori truths dismantled the presuppositions of the logical analysis of language or concepts that was central to the “Linguistic Turn”. Quine’s naturalisation of epistemology undermined the last vestiges of First Philosophy and strongly endorsed the continuity between philosophy and science (Ibid).

The rejection of First Philosophy claims that there is no a priori rationalist foundation to any coherent, sound, or valid system of knowledge anymore. Only the contingent empirical methods of natural science explain what is real or not. Any system is potentially revisable at any time based on new empirical “scientific” observations. There is no conceptual system which is true which avoids incorporating empirical methods anymore, the rejection of First Philosophy claims.

B The Ontology and Methodology of the Natural Sciences #

Bald naturalism argues that the only ontology and methodology which anyone can ever use in any “rational” discourse about anything can be that of the natural sciences, the “hard” sciences. De Caro and Macarthur explains that in this way bald naturalism amounts to a “scientism”: the only valid discourse anyone can ever enter into to make any sense when talking about something, or talking with or to someone else is the discourses of the hard sciences: this scientism says

… not only that modern natural science provides a true picture of nature but, more contentiously that it is the only true picture. Wilfrid Sellars expresses its animating spirit in his remark that “science is the measure of all things, of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not” (Ibid: 4).

Ontologically, then, naturalists who advocate a metpahysical picture of nature that amounts to a strong physicalism are bald naturalists, because they argue that only the objects explained in the most up-to-date system of physics are real. The same goes for all the other hard sciences, chemistry and reductive and determinist forms of biology.

Methodologically, bald naturalists don’t just argue against the existence of a First Philosophy, but they claim that philosophy is continuous with the natural sciences. This doesn’t mean they consider philosophy to be a kind of science. Bald naturalists mean that natural science dominates and dictates what is acceptable philosophical discourse. For bald naturalism, only the discourses of the hard sciences are up for analysis and discussion in philosophy. The only kind of philosophy which is valid is the philosophy of the hard sciences.

III Why We Should Reject Bald Naturalism #

It follows from above that bald naturalism argues that nature is a physically and causally closed system. Nature is governed by a causal order of efficient causation, and nothing intervenes in this order. The first argument of this thesis is that we should reject Bald Naturalism. I argue that we should reject Bald Naturalism because it rejects the existence of normativity in its picture of nature. The reductive picture of the natural sciences that bald naturalism advocates rejects the reality of human value and normativity. The methodologies and ontologies of these supposed reductionist hard sciences for instance exclude the existence of moral entities, like moral facts, moral properties, or moral states of affairs from valid kinds of discourse.

A The Core Argument of This Chapter #

As Terence Cuneo, David Macarthur, and Mario de Caro explain normativity is something like the following example:

We normally say, for example,that one ought to keep one’s promises, and that if one accepts p and “If p, then q”, one ought to accept q, or that Mozart was a better musician than Salieri (De Caro and Macarthur, 2010: 4; Cuneo, 2007).

I want to argue that this “oughtness” of normative facts, or “evaluativeness” of normative facts is a real feature of nature, and that bald naturalism ought to be rejected because it refuses the existence of these facts. In this chapter, in order to argue that bald naturalism is false, I want to put forward the following argument:

If bald naturalism is true, then moral realism is false and normativity is not part of the universe.
If moral realism is true, then normativity must be a part of the universe.
Moral realism is true.
Therefore bald naturalism is false, and normativity is indeed part of the universe.

The above is a deductive argument, and virtually the entire argument turns on the third premise. If the third premise is false, then it turns out that the disjunctive premises 1 and 2 will render the conclusion unsound. I will call the above argument the Core Argument of Chapter One.

I will prove the above third premise of the Core Argument is true by making another argument. I will call this argument Cuneo’s argument, because it is the main argument of Terence Cuneo’s book The Normative Web (2007). This is Cuneo’s argument:

1. If moral facts do not exist, then epistemic facts do not exist.
2. Epistemic facts exist.
3. So, moral facts exist.
4. If moral facts exist, then moral realism is true.
5. So, moral realism is true (Ibid: 6).

The two premises which require significant argument are premises one and two. In this chapter I will rehearse Cuneo’s arguments as to why moral facts must exist if epistemic facts exist. Cuneo calls it “defending the parallel”. The second chapter of this thesis will perform an argument by elimination to show that epistemic anti-realism must be false. I will rehearse Cuneo’s arguments as to why epistemic nihilism and epistemic expressivism should both be rejected.

The idea behind this strategy is called a ‘Companions in Guilt’ argument. We will show in this chapter than moral and epistemic realism are incredibly similar positions. We will show that they are in fact so similar, that to adopt one type of realism, say, epistemic realism, forces one to adopt the other kind—moral realism. The same goes the other way—to reject moral realism would be to reject epistemic realism. And that is the purpose of the next chapter. I will demonstrate that epistemic anti-realism is such an undesirable position that any reasonable person would be forced to reject it. Rejecting epistemic anti-realism would therefore force one to reject moral anti-realism.

Many anti-realists about moral discourse would find the consequence of embracing epistemic anti-realism very undesirable, so the purpose of this part of the thesis is to construct this equivalence between accepting both types of realism in order to open a space for the rest of the thesis. The purpose of this part of the thesis therefore is to open a space for discussion predicated on the possibility or probability that moral realism is true, because we will show in this chapter and the next that epistemic and moral realism stand or fall together.

The rest of the thesis after this part is therefore constructive. Attempting to force moral anti-realists into a corner, this admittedly defensive first part of the thesis will lay the groundwork for attempting to build a naturalistic philosophy which is compatible with moral realism.

Terence Cuneo’s argument for his first premise of his argument for moral realism is that moral and epistemic facts are so similar that to reject moral facts would force one to have to reject epistemic facts. Moral and epistemic facts are similar in the following ways:

First, They both instantiate some categorical reasons for agents to behave in certain ways; and
Second, they are structurally isomorphic, that is to say there rational structure is completely identical; and
Third, the behavioural responses that moral and epistemic facts favour are completely identical. Behaviour based on both kinds of facts is the same. To phrase this in another way, we can say that moral and epistemic facts do not favour different kinds of behaviour in their two different rational contexts; and
Moral and epistemic facts are not just coextensive, and share a single normative context, but mutually entail, support, indicate, and refer to one another. Cuneo refers to this mutual interdependence as the normative web of realism. This is the reason why his book is this metaphor.

Before we deal with Cuneo’s argument regarding the four types of similarity between moral and epistemic facts, let us get clear about what we mean about “realism”. What does Cuneo mean by the term “realism”? He means the following:

A realist conception of moral and epistemic features is something that, all else being equal, ordinary mature human agents whose cognitive faculties are functioning adequately in a world such as ours take for granted in their everyday doings and believings (Ibid: 11).

This explains why Cuneo takes the path that he does in arguing for moral realism. He feels that

[it] is because this way of viewing things is rather firmly entrenched in our shared world picture that it is difficult to formulate arguments for moral or epistemic realism that appeal to premises more obvious than the positions themselves. (Imagine trying to make sense of our ordinary moral and epistemic practices while also assuming that those who sincerely engage in these practices do not think that there are moral or epistemic reasons or that such reasons can be shrugged off if we fail to have appropriate desires.) This, or so it is suggested, is why positive arguments for realism regarding moral or epistemic facts are … difficult to come by. And it is also why, when arguments are offered for moral and epistemic realism, they generally have the form of eliciting the implausible implications of their rivals rather than citing the theoretically positive characteristics of the realist views themselves (Ibid).

I will adopt Cuneo’s defensive position in this chapter, but this strategy of arguing for moral realism will not be the main strategy of my thesis. I want to construct an inflationary account of naturalist normativism: an account of naturalist normativism which gives a specific account of naturalist normativism. I want to explain precisely how moral realism is true, even when naturalism is true.

IV Defending the Parallel: If Moral Facts Do Not Exist, Then Epistemic Facts Do Not Exist #

Cuneo sets the stage for arguing that if moral facts do not exist if epistemic facts do not exist by introducing the view he calls ‘epistemic realism of a paradigmatic sort’. From there he finds four similarities between epistemic facts and moral facts which establish the truth of the first premise of Cuneo’s Argument.

A The Epistemic Realist’s Speech Act Thesis #

Cuneo writes that in the first place, the epistemic realist defends:

The Epistemic Realist’s Speech Act Thesis: Some epistemic discourse is assertoric.

Suppose we assume that an ‘epistemic sentence’ is any sentence whose surface logical form is that of either (i) predicating a simple (i.e non-compound) epistemic property of an particular entity or (ii) a universal generalisation to the effect that, if something has a given feature, then it has a simple epistemic property. According to this account, sentences such as ‘Sam’s belief about UFOs is irrational’ and ‘Beliefs based on good evidence are justified’ are examples of epistemic sentences. Call sentences of the first type ‘predicative epistemic sentences’ and those of the latter sort ‘general epistemic sentences’. Epistemic discourse, as I shall understand it, is discourse that consists only in the sincere utterances of epistemic sentences (Cuneo, 2007: 53-54).

Cuneo then says an ‘epistemic claim’ or ‘epistemic judgment’ is whatever mental state that is expressed by the sincere utterance of an epistemic sentence (Ibid: 54). Following on from this, an ‘epistemic proposition’ is the content (Cuneo says, ‘if you like, the object’) of an epistemic claim that purports (Cuneo: ‘in some cases at least’) to represent an epistemic fact (Ibid). Propositions of this type can be divided into two kinds. ‘Predicative epistemic propositions’ are those whose logical form corresponds to the (surface) semantic components of predicative epistemic sentences: ‘That Sam’s belief about UFOs is irrational is an example of such a proposition (Ibid: 19). Cuneo says ‘general epistemic propositions’ are those propositions whose logical form corresponds to the (surface) semantic components of general epistemic sentences (Ibid). That beliefs based on good evidence are justified is an example of a general epistemic proposition. Cuneo further says that

a speech act counts as a case of assertoric epistemic discourse, I will assume, just in case it consists in the explicit presentation of an epistemic proposition by way of the sincere utterance of an epistemic sentence (Ibid).

Let us bring all these claims together. The Epistemic Realist’s Speech Act Thesis tells us that discourse of this kind consists only in the sincere utterance of epistemic sentences and at least one such sentence is used explicitly to present an epistemic proposition.

There is also a moral analogue to this Epistemic Speech Act Thesis. It is called the Moral Realist’s Speech Act Thesis. This thesis forms part of the view called ‘Moral Realism of a Paradigmatic Sort’. It turns out that the Moral equivalent of the Epistemic Realist’s Speech Act Thesis is exactly the same, with all the same clarifications applying to both the Moral and Epistemic Realist Speech Act Theses.

The Moral Realist’s Speech Act Thesis: Some moral discourse is assertoric.

These clarifications are the following:

I will simply assume, following Cuneo, that there is a stock of simple predicative expressions that (in a wide range of common usage) we commonly recognise as moral and epistemic. For instance in moral discourse, I assume that evaluative expressions such as ‘is wrong’, ‘is just’, ‘is kind’, ‘is vicious’, ‘is evil’, and deontic expressions such as ‘is (morally) forbidden’, ‘is (morally) required’, is (morally) obligatory’ or ‘is a (moral) reason’ are good examples of simple predicative moral expressions. As such, I will follow Cuneo in assuming that discourse that consists only in the sincere utterance of well-formed predicative or general sentences that contain such predicative expressions count as moral discourse (Ibid: 23). See page 55 of The Normative Web for the epistemic analogue of these predicative expressions.

Cuneo explains that we must reject assertoric deflationism because it contradicts the realist’s speech act thesis. The realist’s speech act thesis asserts that when someone utters a proposition, they commit themselves to representing that the world exists in such a way. We are to understand the speech act thesis as being ‘robustly’ realist, committing an agent of the utterance of a proposition to picturing the world in a certain way ‘as it is anyway’. However assertoric deflationism is not compatible with this position. Assertoric deflationism is more compatible with a robust form of expressivism, where the utterance of a sentence-type such as

‘Genocide is wrong’

is always used merely to express the attitude:

No! to genocide.

What the above sentence expresses is not a proposition. In uttering it, someone does not express something truth-evaluable, neither does the person purport to predicate a moral property of anything. So it completely contradicts the realist’s speech act thesis.

B The Epistemic Realist’s Alethic Thesis #

There is a second element to Cuneo’s description of Epistemic Realism of a Paradigmatic Sort: the Realist’s Alethic Thesis.

The Epistemic Realist’s Alethic Thesis: The contents of some predicative epistemic claims are true, and if the contents of such claims are true, then they are true in the realist sense.

The idea with this element of Epistemic Realism of a Paradigmatic sort, is that in some cases in which we say such things as ‘Sam’s belief about UFOs is irrational’ or ‘Sam ought to consider carefully the available evidence for Margaret’s claim’, we are saying something true. As Cuneo says:

These claims are true, according to the realist conception of truth, just in case there are facts such as that Sam’s belief about UFOs is irrational and that Sam ought to consider carefully the available evidence for Margaret’s claim (Cuneo, 2007: 55).

There is also a moral analogue to this alethic thesis. There is a Moral Realist’s Alethic Thesis. It expresses exactly the same structure as the epistemic thesis, only with the word ‘moral’ in place of the word epistemic.

The Moral Realist’s Alethic Thesis: The contents of some predicative moral claims are true, and if the contents of such claims are true, then they are true in the realist sense.

All the same qualifications Cuneo makes about the moral realist’s alethic thesis apply to the epistemic alethic thesis:

Cuneo says there are several ways to misread the two realist alethic theses. They can be broadly categorised into deflationary and inflationary readings of the realist’s claim. Let’s begin with deflationary readings.

1 Deflationary Readings of the Realist’s Alethic Thesis #

Cuneo writes:

One potentially deflationary reading of the realist’s alethic thesis is to say that it does not imply that truth is a genuine or ‘substantial’ property. That is, it might be claimed that the realist’s alethic thesis is compatible with the vie according to which the apparently predicative expression ‘is true’ fails to refer to the property being true or refers only to a ‘non-substantial’ property—that is, a property that fails to admit of any type of informative elucidation (Ibid: 26-27).

I follow Cuneo in precluding any such reading of the alethic theses. I shall assume along with Cuneo that truth—at least as it is predicated of moral and epistemic propositions—is a substantive property picked out (when all goes well) by the predicative expression ‘is true’. I follow Cuneo’s reasoning. The realist’s alethic says that the content of some moral claims is true. It is, however, a platitude accepted by both deflationists and realists that truth claims represent or correspond to reality. Deflationists gloss this platitude that it amounts to no more than that p is true if and only if p. But if we hold to the realist’s speech act thesis, we find the deflationary gloss on this correspondence platitude unattractive. Fundamental to the realist’s speech act thesis is the claim that the content of some moral claims purports to represent moral and epistemic reality—where ‘representation’ in this case is understood in a fairly robust sense. This (together with the alethic thesis) entails that some predicative moral claims are true and that they represent reality correctly—represent reality correctly in a fairly robust sense of ‘represent’ (Ibid: 27).

Cuneo continues, talking about the nature of truth-bearers in realist moral and epistemic discourse:

Admittedly, it doesn’t follow from this that the truth property consists in a truth-bearer’s representing reality aright. Nevertheless, to deny this claim would be peculiar, for it is difficult to see why, if true predicative claims do not consist in representing reality aright, they are nonetheless such that they necessarily accurately represent reality. If deflationism were true, the coincidence, as David Lewis says in another context, would be magical; there would be no accounting for why it obtains. How best, then, to explain the coincidence? (Ibid).

Cuneo answers that we should assume that the following is the most promising explanation: Truth is a genuine property such that when it is exemplified by a predicative claim (or its content), it consists in that claim’s (or its content) representing a correlative fact. If this is right, it follows that truth is also a ‘substantial’ property in the sense that we can give an informative account f that in which its instantiation by a predicative claim (or its content) consists (Ibid).

2 Inflationary Readings of the Realist’s Alethic Thesis #

An inflationary reading differs from a deflationary reading in that instead of denying that truth is a property or a ‘substantial’ property of assertoric discourse, inflationism tries to give a very specific account of the nature of the truth property in the speech act thesis.

Cuneo wishes to dismiss inflationary readings of the alethic thesis, but I wish to give an inflationary account of the truth-property in Chapters 2 and 3 of this thesis. I will be adopting John McDowell’s epistemological and moral realism from his work in Mind and World (1996) and Two Sorts of Naturalism (1998: 167).

The only reason Cuneo wishes to dismiss inflationism is that he argues that such an inflationary account is not needed in order to prove the truthfulness of the realist’s alethic thesis. Because I am interested in giving a much more specific account of the reality of normativity, a naturalist account, I must resort to a much more specific account of epistemic and moral realism. A proper constructive account of how human normativity is compatible with a robust naturalism requires more than just to say normativity (say, moral realism) does not refute or contradict the sciences. They must be compatible in a more metaphysical sense, and I wish to construct an account of how this is so.

C Epistemic Realist’s Ontic Thesis #

The third and final element of Cuneo’s realism of a paradigmatic sort for both moral and epistemic realism is the ontic thesis. The ontic thesis is the following:

The Epistemic Realist’s Ontic Thesis: There are irreducible epistemic facts.

The same as above, there is an exact moral analogue:

The Moral Realist’s Ontic Thesis: There are irreducible moral facts.

Cuneo explains what he means by this by first referring to what reductionism in the case of epistemic and moral facts.

1 Reductionism #

Suppose we think of antirealist views of kind K as falling into two basic types. The first type is what we call ‘nihilist’ views. To be a nihilist with respect to ks is simply to deny that Ks exist. Cuneo gives an example: “For instance, to be a nihilist about beliefs is just to deny that there are beliefs” (Cuneo, 2007: 29). On the other hand there are ‘reductionist’ positions:

The reductionist concerning Ks does not outright deny that Ks exist. Rather, she claims that Ks exist, though, contrary to appearances, Ks are really Ys—where Ys are supposed to be less ‘ontologically problematic’ than, and significantly different from, what we intuitively or commonsensically assume Ks to be. Consider (psychological) behaviourism concerning beliefs in this regard. Behaviourists find our ordinary supposition that beliefs are mental states deeply problematic. They cannot see how a mental state could possess such mysterious qualities as being about the world or having a qualitative ‘feel’. Still, behaviourists do not simply deny that there are beliefs. Rather, they maintain that there are entities such as beliefs, but that contrary to the appearances, beliefs are not mental states. Beliefs, say behaviourists, are really just certain complex behavioural dispositions: The belief that it is snowing, for example, is just a complex behavioural disposition to do such things as put on gloves when venturing outside, answer ‘Yes’ to the question ‘Is it snowing?’ and so on. Behaviourists, in effect, ‘reduce’ beliefs to complex behavioural dispositions (Ibid: 29-30).

Cuneo asks us to suppose that we use schematic letter ‘C’ to stand for our ordinary or commonsensical conception of Ks. For the present purposes we can take a commonsensical conception of an entity to be a way of thinking about that entity which incorporates (or is constituted) a cluster of platitudes or truisms regarding the character of that entity. For example, a platitude regarding colours is that we usually can’t detect them simply by smell. The account of reduction Cuneo is proposing is that:

The Ks reduce to the Ys if and only if the Ks are identical with the Ys and the Ys fail to satisfy C (Ibid: 30).

As Cuneo thinks of them, then, reductions are always a species of so-called type-type reductions. As Cuneo says, classic behaviourists are reductionists about beliefs inasmuch as they identify beliefs with complex behavioural dispositions (Ibid).

Cuneo then goes on to make two qualifications. Although he spoke of metaphysical antirealisms as falling into two different kinds, he does not suppose that the distinction between these two types of antirealisms is a sharp one. He writes that it might be that, in some cases, it is unclear whether a view is best categorised as a nihilist view or a reductionist one. It may be the case that, for example, a proponent of a given view claims that Ks exist. On reflection, however, it might become apparent that this person is using the term ‘exist’ in less than its strict and proper sense “(perhaps she is a Meinongian of a certain kind)”. And, thus, rhetoric aside, it might be more illuminating to classify this view as a species of nihilism rather than reductionism (Ibid: 30-31).

The second qualification is that Cuneo pictures reductionism as existing on a spectrum between nihilism and realism. It may be the case that some reductionisms better satisfy the platitudes regarding some entities than others. The more a reductionist does violence, and revisionism, to our commonsensical, intuitive picture of our view of Ks, then the more antirealist and potentially nihilistic it may be. The less violence, the more of a realist account it is. In this chapter, we will only talk about reductionisms which are robustly antirealist.

Now this this work has been done, we can explain what it means for an entity to ‘irreducibly’ exist. To say that Ks irreducibly exist is to claim, first, that there is a commonsensical conception of Ks, fundamental to which are platitudes that concern the nature of Ks. Second, it is to claim that Ks exist if and only if they satisfy these platitudes. As such, Ks cannot be reduced to facts of a type that fail to satisfy platitudes central to our commonsensical conception of Ks (Ibid: 31).

2 On Common Sense #

This concept of reduction presupposes that, with respect to entities of some kinds, there is something like an ‘ordinary’ or ‘commonsensical’ idea of what those entities are like. Cuneo is right to sign-post that this is bound to raise suspicion about his account of reductionism. So we need to do more work. We need to explain how this idea of commonsensical or ordinary ideas about the nature of entities is not problematic.

Two questions arise when trying to introduce this idea of commonsensical ideas: What, after all, could we mean by the claim that there is an ordinary or commonsensical conception of a kind? And what could be meant by the claim that there is an ordinary or commonsensical conception of specifically moral and epistemic features? There are two answers offered up by Cuneo, a less determinate answer, and a more determinate answer.

The less determinate response to the question is that a commonsensical conception of a moral or epistemic feature refers to a platitude that embodies

the content and objectivity of that feature that are sufficiently entrenched in the beliefs and practices of ordinary folk that moral realists and antirealists ordinarily attempt to accommodate them in their respective theories (Ibid: 32).

A reductionist account of a putatively epistemic or moral feature is then one which claims that the moral or epistemic feature is instantiated, but offers an account of the feature without genuinely honouring these platitudes. The more determinate reply is as follows. Cuneo says it takes its inspiration from an unlikely pair of philosophers—David Lewis and Thomas Reid. The proponent of this reply maintains that there are what we might call ‘commonly conceived kinds’:

Commonly conceived kinds are kinds of which most properly functioning, paradigmatically situated adults (e.g. those who live in social groups) at some time have the concept. Fundamental to our concepts of at least some commonly conceived kinds are various platitudes. For example: Most adults of this sort have the concept of being a coloured thing. And constitutive of our concept of being a coloured thing are platitudes such as ‘(nearly) all objects that we see appear to be coloured’, ‘things don’t usually look the colour they are in the dark’, ‘one usually cannot tell what colour an object is just by touching and smelling it’, and so forth. If a person were not explicitly to believe or take for granted these platitudes in her ordinary activities of judging, questioning, blaming, praising, inquiring, predicting, and so forth, that would be prima facie grounds that the person lacks the concept of being a coloured thing, or suffers from some cognitive malfunction, or occupies (or has occupied) some highly unfavourable epistemic situation (Perhaps, for example, she has been massively deceived about the nature of colours) (Ibid: 33).

What is the point of this more determinate reply? The reply tells us that some putatively moral and epistemic features are commonly conceived kinds. They are the sorts of thing of which most properly functioning, paradigmatically situated adults have the concept. It further claims that fundamental to our concept of certain moral features are platitudes of various sorts. If we discovered a person who did not also share these platitudes in her ordinary activities of judging, questioning, blaming, praising, inquiring, predicting, and so forth, this would be prima facie grounds for believing that this person lacks the concept of that putatively moral or epistemic feature, “or suffers from some cognitive malfunction, or is the victim of some highly unfavourable epistemic situation” (Ibid: 33-34). Cuneo explains further:

For example, it is plausible to believe that kinds such as being a just action or being a wicked action are commonly conceived kinds. It is also plausible to believe that fundamental to our concepts of these kinds are various platitudes. It seems to be constitutive of our concept of justice hat no action could be just that simply randomly discriminates against some group of persons. Accordingly, if a person were not to believe or take for granted that this platitude in her ordinary activities … this would be prima facie grounds for believing that this person lacks the concept of justice, or suffers from some cognitive malfunction, or has been misled by her teachers about the nature of justice (Ibid: 34).

3 Commonsensical Moral and Epistemic Realism #

Let’s suppose, then, that there is a commonsensical conception of moral and epistemic features such as justice, kindness, and benevolence, in the case of moral features, and features such as warrantability, verifiability, and relevance, in the epistemic case. Our commonsensical conception of these features, as we have seen above, is comprised of various platitudes that, when all goes well, are indicative of the nature of these features. Cuneo writes that,

these platitudes are pregnant with important implications for what might be called our ‘commonsensical conception of moral facts’. The idea is that, if anything is a genuinely moral fact, then we have prima facie reason to believe that it would have to be such that it satisfies a certain set of platitudes. … I submit that lying at the heart of our commonsensical conception of moral facts are platitudes of two sorts—platitudes that concern the content and the authority of morality. I want now to elucidate these platitudes, and then say why I believe we have good reason to maintain that they are fundamental to our commonsensical conception of moral facts (Ibid: 35-36).

4 The Content and Authority Platitudes #

Cuneo writes that to understand the platitudes that concern the content of morality, it it useful to return to some considerations that Philippa Foot pressed against emotivist and prescriptivist views several decades ago. Foot argued that not just any action could count as wicked, benevolent, compassionate, or wrong; that there are conceptual limits to what sorts of action could admit of these moral predicates. And though it was not her aim to offer a comprehensive account of what should fall under the concept of ‘moral’, Foot contended that acts that have one or another positive moral status are generally concerned to promote, sustain, or contribute in some fashion to genuine human well-being or the states and activities that are components thereof (Ibid: 36). Likewise, acts that have one or another negative moral status are typically concerned to frustrate, undercut, or destroy authentic human flourishing or the states and activities that are components thereof. In the case of moral facts, conceived in a realist sense, we might add that some actions have such an intimate connection to causing serious harm—e.g. torturing others for mere pleasure—that they are plausibly viewed as being necessarily wrong (Ibid: 37).

I agree with Cuneo that Foot’s contention regarding the conceptual limits as to what could count as a moral fact are correct. And if we add the qualification that there are conceptual limits on what could plausibly count as authentic human flourishing, there appear to be substantial restrictions on both what could count as a moral fact, and what could count as particular types of say a moral property such as justice, mercy, benevolence, etc.

Cuneo also claimed above that, in addition to there being platitudes concerning the content of morality, there are various platitudes that concern the authority of morality. He divides these platitudes concerning the authority of morality into two sorts: prescriptiveness and those that inescapably govern our conduct.

On the first type of platitudes on the authority of morality, Cuneo writes:

First of all, there are various platitudes to the effect that moral features of the world are prescriptive insofar as they are, imply, or indicate reasons for us to behave in certain ways. Consider the fact that an action is wicked. It is an apparent platitude to claim that, necessarily, the fact that an action is wicked provides persons in the appropriate circumstances with a reason to despise it, attempt to stop it, or the like. The truth of this platitude is guaranteed by what appears to be a conceptual truth about reasons and evaluative moral facts, viz., that if an entity has some evaluative moral property, (e.g. wickedness), then (all other things being equal) there is a reason for persons in the relevant circumstances to respond to that entity in the appropriate fashion. To which we should add that moral facts (or the reasons they indicate) on some occasions appear to provide persons with a decisive reason to act as they direct (Ibid).

Regarding the second type of platitude, Cuneo explains:

… there are platitudes that tell us that moral features are authoritative insofar as they inescapably govern our conduct. The idea here is twofold.

In the first place, the claim is that, necessarily, some moral reasons apply to persons and thereby give persons reasons to act (or indicate such reasons) regardless of whether they want to act in a morally upright fashion, or whether they belong to a certain social group, or whether they have entered into certain agreements with others, and so forth. … As such, some moral reasons are categorical and stand in contrast to so-called hypothetical and institutional reasons, which apply to persons only insofar as they have certain goals or are committed to institutions or social practices of certain kinds. (Think of the norms of etiquette as a contrast).

In the second place, moral reasons are authoritative inasmuch as the decisiveness of some such reasons for appropriately situated agents is not a function of whether such agents want to act in a morally upright fashion, or belong to a certain social group, or have entered into certain agreements with others, and so forth (Ibid: 37-38).

Cuneo concludes on the topic of the content and authority platitudes of moral realism:

Definitive of moral realism of a paradigmatic sort is the thesis that there is a commonsensical conception of moral facts. Moral facts irreducibly exist just in case such facts exist that satisfy the content and authority platitudes fundamental to our commonsensical conception of moral facts. They cannot be reduced to the sorts of fact that lack these characteristics (Ibid: 39).

Epistemic realism possesses some slightly different content and authority platitudes that need to be satisfied by a commonsensical conception of epistemic facts. Cuneo argues that there are three types of content and authority platitudes that are satisfied by a commonsensical conception of epistemic facts. First, regarding content platitudes, there is representativeness. Second, regarding authoritativeness, there is the platitude that epistemic facts (a) are prescriptive; and (b) inescapably govern our conduct.

Cuneo says that the content platitudes regarding epistemic facts are the same in form as those regarding moral facts. There are conceptual limits to what an epistemic fact can be. They can only be a particular type, and they cannot wantonly be any kind of fact. These three content and authority platitudes he argues for explain what ‘epistemic realism of a paradigmatic sort’ takes an epistemic fact to be.

In the first case, regarding content platitudes, an epistemic fact must be representational. Cuneo asks us to suppose that we say an entity x is representational with respect to y just in case x purports to represent y. Further, he asks us to support we say than an entity x represents y if and only if x is representational with respect to y and in fact is about, true of, or refers to y. Finally, Cuneo asks us to suppose that an entity x is representative only insofar as it is representational and represents that which it purports to represent, or is likely to do so, or is the product of an agent’s having done a sufficiently adequate job of trying to ensure that it represents reality correctly (Ibid: 56-57).

Cuneo comments on the similarities between this content platitude and that of moral facts:

… the content platitudes with respect to epistemic facts cluster around the notion of accurate representation in a similar fashion to the way in which the content platitudes with respect to moral facts congregate around the notion of human well-being. In the interests of ensuring that the content platitudes are indeed platitudinous, I shall not adopt any particular account of what it is that representation consists in. So while I assume for the moment that representation is a genuine ‘substantive’ relation that obtains between entities of various kinds, I aim to remain neutral on the question of how best to analyse this relation (or whether it can be analysed) (Ibid).

I would like to comment on this last stance by Cuneo. While Cuneo aims to be neutral about what epistemic facts are with respect to representation platitudes, I will not be. In the next chapter I will spell out a specific account I find persuasive for constructing a naturalist account of normativity. This is what is called John McDowell’s epistemological argument. This argument is McDowell’s account of the mind and how it establishes epistemic facts. McDowell’s philosophy of epistemic facts is that they are representative, but not in a way which makes them correspond or mirror the world. McDowell’s philosophy of mind is an identity theory of mind, and he establishes that we directly think epistemic facts in our minds, instead of representing them. As McDowell himself says, we directly think the content of the world, we don’t just represent it. We can think of McDowell’s philosophy of empirical experience as satisfying the representation content platitude, but in an unorthodox way. It is still a paradigmatic case of epistemic realism, even though it is an unorthodox one. This is how I will build my inflationary account of moral and epistemic realism.

The second two platitudes regarding epistemic facts concern the authoritativeness of epistemic facts. There are two senses in which epistemic facts are authoritative: that they are prescriptive, and that they inescapably govern our conduct—just like the platitudes regarding moral facts.

Regarding prescriptiveness, Cuneo says:

epistemic facts are, imply, or indicate reasons for properly situated agents to behave in certain ways. It appears, for example, to be a conceptual truth that, if a certain plan of inquiry is manifestly irrational, then its being irrational provides appropriately situated persons with an epistemic reason not to engage in it. It is similarly platitudinous to say that, if a person investigates a matter with appropriate care and thoroughness, then she is deserving of approbation of a certain kind—approbation that we express by saying she is conscientious or scrupulous.

On the topic of the platitude about inescapable governing of conduct, Cuneo argues:

The fundamental idea in this case is that some epistemic facts are, imply, or indicate categorical reasons for agents to behave in certain ways. As such, these facts are, imply, or indicate reasons for agents to behave in certain ways regardless of whether these agents care about conducting their behaviour in a rational way, whether they belong to a social group of a certain kind, or whether they have entered into social agreements with others.

Cuneo calls these content and authority platitudes of epistemic facts ‘the central platitudes concerning epistemic facts’. They are fundamental to the epistemic realist’s ontic thesis. The purpose of the platitudes is to describe what kinds of facts epistemic facts are. If a fact is to be an epistemic fact, it just satisfy these platitudes. The commonsensical nature of the platitudes we have about epistemic facts and epistemic reasons rely on these central platitudes in outlining just what an epistemic fact is.

D The First Similarity #

It is easily observed that there is a close structural similarity between moral realism of a paradigmatic sort, and epistemic realism of a paradigmatic sort. Cuneo highlights the first main area of similarity between moral and epistemic facts:

On the assumption that we understand moral and epistemic facts to be those entities that our commonsensical conceptions of moral and epistemic facts purport to pick out, then facts of both kinds are authoritative. If such facts exist, then some facts of each kind are, imply, or indicate categorical reasons for properly situated agents to behave themselves in certain ways (Ibid: 62).

E A Framework For Thinking About Normative Facts: The Isomorphism of Moral and Epistemic Facts #

There is a second similarity between moral and epistemic facts which further bolsters the premise that if moral facts do not exist, epistemic facts do not exist. The further argument for this premise is that moral and epistemic facts are both structurally isomorphic. Their structure mirrors each other. Epistemic and moral facts are both structurally isomorphic in that they can be either deontic or evaluative. A deontic fact is one which favours behavioural or verbal responses of certain kinds, and an evaluative fact is one where the reasons accompanying a specific fact are accompanied by an appropriate or inappropriate mode of response (Ibid: 70).

Let us have a look at Cuneo’s argument.

Cuneo says he requires to “thicken” the account of what a moral and epistemic fact is. At the moment we have hopefully established that moral and epistemic facts establish categorical reasons for agents to behave in certain ways. But we need a much more comprehensive account of moral and epistemic facts in order to securely establish the first premise of Cuneo’s Argument that if moral facts do not exist, epistemic facts do not exist.

So, Cuneo sets out to make a sketch of a conceptual framework through which we can better understand the nature of moral and epistemic facts.

1 Facts and Reasons #

First, Cuneo introduces a two-fold distinction between different types of normative fact. He uses the appellation ‘normative’ here in a restricted sense to range over only moral and epistemic features. First, he introduces a distinction between general and particular normative facts. Cuneo asks us to employ the concept of a state of affairs to explicate the notion of a normative fact, in a moment he will address the distinction between states of affairs that exist, and those that obtain. In the schemata below, he will use the term ‘states of affairs’ to refer to a state of affairs that obtains. He also assumes that talk of states of affairs can be translated into different idioms that others may prefer.

In the first place, let’s say that:

X is a particular normative fact if and only if X is a state of affairs that is comprised of a particular entity’s having a simple normative property.

That Sam’s humiliating Margaret is wrong or that Sam’s belief regarding UFOs is irrational are examples of particular normative facts. Facts such as these are represented by true predicative normative claims.17

By contrast, Cuneo asks us to define general normative facts as:

X is a general normative fact if and only if X is a state of affairs that specifies that if a particular entity were instantiated, then it would have a simple normative property.

That humiliating others for mere pleasure is wrong or that believing in UFOs is unjustified are cases of putative general normative facts. Facts such as these correspond to true normative claims.18

Cuneo now proceeds to distinguish between deontic and evaluative normative facts. He asks us to suppose we use the term ‘response’ in a fairly loose way to refer to either a single type of response or a range of such responses, and also what we would also consider failures to respond). Also, we need to suppose we similarly use the term ‘agent’ to refer to a particular agent or group thereof (Ibid: 63).

In this context, deontic normative facts can be thought of disjunctively:

X is a deontic normative fact if and only if X is a state of affairs that (i) consists in an entity’s morally or epistemically favouring a response of a properly situated agent or (ii) specifies that an entity would, if instantiated, normally or epistemically favour that response of a properly situated agent.

For example, that Sam ought to apologise to Margaret and that agents should exercise care when forming and maintaining their beliefs of certain kinds are deontic normative facts (Ibid).

Evaluative normative facts can also be thought of disjunctively. Cuneo stipulates that:

X is an evaluative normative fact if and only if X is a state of affairs that (i) consists in an agent’s responding at some time (or being reliably disposed to respond) in an appropriate or inappropriate fashion to an entity that morally or epistemically favours a given response or (ii) specifies that an agent would respond at some time (or would be reliably be disposed to respond) in a appropriate or inappropriate fashion to an entity that morally or epistemically favours a given response, were it to be instantiated.

That Margaret is kind and that believing that UFOs exist is unjustified are evaluative normative facts (Ibid: 64).

Deontic and normative evaluative facts can be either particular or general in character (Ibid).

Cuneo then goes on to define what he takes a reason to be. He says:

For the present purposes, let us think of a reason as a consideration that counts in favour of a given type of response of an agent. … And when I say that a consideration ‘counts in favour of’ a given response, I mean this to cover a rather wide swath of conceptual territory. Something can count in favour of a response insofar as the thing commends a given response. But it can also count in favour of a response insofar as it demands or requires or dictates that one ought to have that response. However, to this I should add that I will not assume that something’s being demanded of one just is for it to be most favoured.

Lying just beneath the surface of this account of a reason is the thesis that reasons are relational entities of a sort. A reason ascription always has as its components the following quartet:

Consideration G → | Favours → | Response R of S | in Circumstance C #

I. | II. | III. | IV.

Suppose that we call the consideration that favours the ‘ground’. And suppose we call that which is favoured the ‘response’. Reasons, as I shall think of them, are grounds that favour responses of certain kinds of properly situated agents. Let it be noted that I have claimed that it is the grounds themselves that are reasons. I have not said that reasons are the favouring relation or that they are the grounds in addition to the favouring relation (Ibid: 65-66).

Given this definition of a reason, we can now illuminate, Cuneo says, the different types of normative facts in terms of this definition of what a reason is. To begin with the most obvious case, Cuneo argues, particular deontic facts (or particular ‘norms’, if you like) are simply facts that consist in a ground’s favouring a certain type of response. If the type of response falls under a positive moral concept such as being compassionate or being just, then the fact in question is a deontic moral fact and the ground that favours this type of response is a moral reason. By contrast, particular evaluative facts are the reasons that constitute deontic facts. Cuneo also does not deny that the reverse is also the case. Cuneo says that ‘non-dispositional’ facts of this kind ‘consist in agent’s responding in an appropriate or inappropriate way to reasons’ (Ibid: 66):

For example, the fact that Sam’s behaviour toward Margaret is unjust consists in an item of behaviour’s being an inappropriate response of a certain kind to considerations that morally favour Sam’s not behaving in that fashion. Similarly, the fact that Sam’s belief about UFOs is irrational consists in Sam’s belief’s being an inappropriate response of a certain kind to considerations that epistemically favour its being formed or maintained in a certain way. ‘Dispositional’ evaluative facts, by contrast, consist in Margaret’s being reliably disposed to respond in certain types of appropriate ways to moral reasons of a certain range. Likewise, the fact that Sam is irrational consists in Sam’s being reliably disposed to respond in certain types of inappropriate fashion to reasons of certain kinds (Ibid).

Then there are general normative facts, and their combination with the above definition of what a reason is. Cuneo says general deontic facts (or ‘general’ norms) are ‘distributive functions from possible or actual instantiations of reasons to types of appropriate response. In other words, the schema for a general deontic fact is that some agent should ‘do, or be X’ when ‘doing or being Y’—Cuneo’s example is the following fact is a general deontic one: ‘that agents should exercise care when forming and maintaining beliefs of certain kinds’ (Ibid: 67).

Similarly, a general evaluative fact is a function from possible or actual instantiations of reasons to types of appropriate or inappropriate response. The putative fact that believe in UFOs is unjustified is the conditional state of affairs that, if something is a belief that UFOs exist, then it is unjustified (Ibid).

A general deontic fact is like a guideline for acting, whereas a general evaluative fact is a fact just in case some state of affairs obtains.

F The Second Similarity #

I agree with Cuneo that the above definitions and argumentation establish a second similarity between epistemic facts and moral facts. Both epistemic and moral facts are supported by a common conception of reasons, and they are structurally isomorphic insofar as they both contain the same conceptions of normative facts. They both contain particular and general normative facts. They also both contain conceptions of deontic and evaluative normative facts. This structural isomorphism means if one were to reject the existence of moral facts, they would very well have to be committed to rejecting the existence of epistemic facts, because a “thick” explication of their structure and nature is absolutely identical.

The same goes for the first similarity: Moral and epistemic facts both establish the existence of some categorical reasons for agents to behave themselves in certain ways. If a moral antirealist were to take issue with moral facts establishing categorical reasons, they would also have to take issue with epistemic reasons doing the same. If they were to reject moral facts on this ground, they would have to also reject epistemic facts.

G The Third Similarity #

We do not need to rehearse a great deal of Cuneo’s argumentation to establish Cuneo’s third argued similarity between moral and epistemic facts. For the time being, we only need to quote some text from his concluding remarks upon establishing the third similarity:

Suppose we use the term ‘normatively appraisable entity’ to stand for any entity that is open to moral or epistemic assessment—any entity that can bear a moral or epistemic property. The first sense in which moral and epistemic facts are similar is that they are constituted by normatively appraisable entities of the same types. Now suppose we use the term ‘mode of response’ to refer to the types of response a reason can favour, such as the formation of propositional attitudes, the formation of motivational states, the implementation of action plans, and so on. And suppose we assume that moral and epistemic reasons are such that, for each type of reason, there is a class consisting in all and only the modes of response reasons of that type favour. Call the first classes of response ‘the moral set’, and the second ‘the epistemic set’. Then we can say that the second sense in which moral and epistemic reasons are similar is that there is considerable overlap between the members of the moral and epistemic sets. Indeed, in light of the fact that it is difficult to identify some mode of response favoured by a moral and not epistemic reasons or vice versa, we are arguably entitled to a stronger conclusion than this: namely, that the members of the moral and epistemic sets are identical. It follows that deontic and evaluative moral and epistemic facts consist in (or indicate) moral and epistemic reasons that favour identical modes of response (Ibid: 76).

We saw above in Cuneo’s schemata of a reason ascription that the first stage of the ascription was ‘Consideration G’, the ‘ground’ of the ascription, which was the ‘reason’ for a behavioural response to a situation. Cuneo above argues rightly that this ‘ground’, this ‘reason’, is identical to either an epistemic or moral fact. It turns out that not only do moral and epistemic facts rely on the same conception of what a ground of a reason ascription is, they also rely on the same definition of the third stage of the reason ascription. This is the ‘Response R of S’ stage.

It turns out that epistemic and moral facts rely on the same behavioural responses to reasons. This is the third similarity between epistemic and moral facts. Epistemic and moral facts range over the same kind of normatively appraisable entities. This means that every type of entity which can possess epistemic properties can also possess moral properties. The entities Cuneo discusses in this section are agents, but we could also talk about books, weapons, speeches, government policies, tax returns, classroom lessons, offensives by guerrilla fighters in the mountains, decisions by the DMV, etc, in the exact same way. Each of these example entities can have moral epistemic properties. Each of the behavioural responses an agent could make to any of these entities is the exact same, no matter if it is a response that relies on moral or epistemic reasons.

The same goes above for the second stage of the reason ascription process in Cuneo’s schemata. This is the ‘favouring’ relation. The deontic and evaluative normativity of epistemic and moral facts is completely structurally isomorphic. They share an identical structure. Epistemic and moral facts favour the exact same mode of response to their ‘ground’ reason in the exact same way. Apart from the fact that epistemic facts feature a different content platitude in describing their nature, epistemic facts are more or less identical to moral facts. The content platitude of an epistemic fact is the only difference between it and a moral fact.

H The Fourth Similarity #

The fourth similarity between moral and epistemic facts is that they are (i) necessarily coextensive; and (ii) there is no way to (ontologically, at least) disentangle their different dimensions from one another.

This is the reasoning. Frequently, and in some contexts most of the time, epistemic and moral facts entail each other. As Cuneo says (Ibid: 80) some failings are necessarily both epistemic and moral failings. ‘Think of failing to treat the testimony of another with sufficient care and attention’ (Ibid).

I, like Cuneo, subscribe to a broadly a Aristotelian view of meta-ethics. I will discuss this position in great detail in the second chapter of John McDowell’s philosophy, his metaphysical argument. Aristotelian meta-ethics is popularly called ‘virtue ethics’, and it holds that quite a lot of the time moral reasons depend on epistemic reasons, that moral facts have an epistemic dimension. Further, although we spoke of the content platitudes of epistemic facts as being constituted only by platitudes that spoke of representation, it may very well be the case that both moral and epistemic facts have intertwined content platitudes describing and outlining their nature.

In this way both moral and epistemic facts are concerned to promote human well-being by honouring, protecting, and promoting humanity, as well as advancing human well-being. Cuneo speaks of moral and epistemic facts as forming a normative web, constituting our entire universe of human experience and action, both theoretical and practical. This is the reason why the title of his book takes the name of this metaphor. Moral and epistemic realism form a web of interrelated, mutually supportive and mutually entailing facts which build up and give an ontology to our commonsensical picture of our world.

I can provide a thought-experiment of my own as an example to illustrate the argument I am trying to make. Suppose Sam is the top sales manager of a company retailing some commodity, say pots and pans. This sales manager has been parachuted into their position due to nepotism, and they are woefully inexperienced to perform such a senior role. After a few weeks, Sam understands he has no idea how to discharge his role, but he really enjoys the salary and fringe benefits, so he decides to ignore the performance of the sales managers below him, and allows them to have autonomy over decision-making in the field. As a consequence, the company’s sales performance plummets. But Sam decided before this state of affairs came about that he wouldn’t bother himself with finding out about this, because he considered it not his fault.

In this thought experiment, Sam abrogates his responsibilities for his retail company and puts everyone’s jobs in danger. The company may go under. But Sam chooses to not pay attention to the poor performance of the company, so he never finds out until the very last moment that he company is in a bad financial state. He doesn’t know that the company is doing badly. He has no knowledge of this. He may have made the assumption to willfully close his eyes to the truth because he has worked under many incompetent senior managers for whom sales performance results ended up being good anyway.

There is a reason here that counts in favour of Sam’s responding with diligence, attention, and carefulness about managing the retail company’s sales. That reason is the sales performance of the company is poor. His deliberate ignorance of the truth is not just an epistemic demerit: he hasn’t been careful at all about the results of his lack of efforts; his response to this reason is also a moral demerit: he has been reckless and negligent in the performance of his duties, and is in danger putting many people in economic harm. If he had not been negligent and reckless, he would know about the company’s sales performance. His moral demerit is the cause of his epistemic demerit.

The point of this thought experiment is that Sam’s behaviour is not just morally reprehensible, but also epistemically demeritous. He picked and chose the information he has decided to bring to his attention. Let’s assume that he did this because he was arrogant and bred in a wealthy family who taught him to believe that he was born to rule over people.

Law reports are replete with examples of people in civil negligence cases willfully closing their eyes to the truth about dangers to other people. This is not just a moral failing but an epistemic failing.

V Conclusion #

This chapter has been concerned to argue, following Terence Cuneo, that moral and epistemic facts are so similar that to reject the existence of moral facts would force one to reject the existence of epistemic facts. I argue that the four different types of similarity between moral and epistemic facts prove that they are so similar that to reject one would be to reject the other. Whatever antirealists find objectionable about moral facts they would also have to find objectionable about epistemic facts. Both instantiate some categorical reasons for behaving in certain ways. Both share the same normative structure. Both favour the same kinds of behaviour: moral behaviour is not in any way different from rational epistemic behaviour. Both mutually depend on and support one-another in building up a comprehensive ontological explanation for our realist-seeming commonsensical everyday discourse.

Given our definitions of what we take the paradigmatic cases of moral realism and epistemic realism to be, it necessarily follows that to reject the existence of moral facts would be to commit oneself to rejecting the existence of epistemic facts.

Our task in the next chapter is to show that epistemic facts do irreducibly exist. Doing this will prove that moral realism is true, which will in turn prove that bald naturalism must be false, and that if we take it that there are good reasons to be naturalists, we must turn to a different sort of naturalism.

References #

Richard Hamilton, ‘The Concept of Health: Beyond Normativism and Naturalism’ (2010) 16(2) Journal of Evaluation in Clinical Practice 323.

John McDowell, Mind and World (Harvard University Press, 1996).

Mario De Caro and David Macarthur, ‘Introduction: The Nature of Naturalism’ in Mario De Caro and David Macarthur (eds), Naturalism in Question (Harvard University Press, 2004) 1.

Mario de Caro and David Macarthur, ‘Introduction: Science, Naturalism, and the Problem of Normativity’ in Mario de Caro and David Macarthur (eds), Naturalism and Normativity (Columbia University Press, 2010) 1.

Terence Cuneo, The Normative Web (Oxford University Press, 1st ed, 2007).

John McDowell, ‘Two Sorts of Naturalism’ in Mind, Value, and Reality (Harvard University Press, 1998) 167.

Marx, Naturalism, and the Disenchantment of Nature

Tue, 01 May 2018 15:41:43 +1000

A key debate that is occurring in analytic philosophy at the moment is whether to agree to the popularly-accepted conception of naturalism. Naturalism, in its orthodox and popular version, forces us to accept an austere and disenchanted picture of the universe and the place of humans in it. Normativity, on this conception, is not a part of the universe at all. There are versions of austere naturalism (‘bald’ naturalism, as John McDowell puts it)[1] that admit of epistemic normativity—the position that if some epistemic fact is true, then we ought to believe it—but these are really no different in kind.

The real sufficient property of what distinguishes bald naturalism from other kinds is that bald naturalism doesn’t admit of moral entities in nature. There is an ongoing movement in analytic philosophy called Liberal Naturalism that seeks to exorcise some form of discourse about moral entities as real objects in nature. The way liberal naturalists see it, there is something fundamentally wrong about picturing the universe as devoid of moral meaning. Orthodox bald naturalism pictures nature as fully and exclusively explained by the hard sciences—physics, chemistry, and a reductive conception of biology—and supposedly this picture of the universe does not admit of moral entities.

I want to argue in this paper that this bald naturalist picture of the universe has entered political philosophy. This conception of nature creates terrible problems for political philosophy. It threatens to distort the meaning of historical texts through anachronistic interpretation. What I want to do in this paper is show that the contemporary orthodox position of bald naturalism is leading to a terrible distortion of Marxist political philosophy. In the first part of this paper I want to step through the first three chapters of a current book by Andrew Feenberg, The Philosophy of Praxis,[2] and show how Feenberg’s contemporary understanding of naturalism has caused him to pass over a proper analysis of Marx’s early philosophy.

I deem Marx’s dialectics of nature to be an interesting and exciting form of normativistic naturalism, which stands in juxtaposition to the orthodox bald naturalism in today’s analytic philosophy. Marx’s theory of revolution depends on unifying human forms of intelligibility with nature in order to bring about the end of what Marx calls ‘estrangement’—or ‘alienation’.

The second part of this paper I will show how Feenberg’s criticism of Marx’s naturalism depends upon a false premise—that nature must be devoid of meaning. In order to do this I will perform a brief comparison of Marx with a modern form of liberal naturalism. This naturalism is John McDowell’s Aristotelian brand of ‘relaxed’ naturalism, which can be found in his major works Mind and World and Two Sorts of Naturalism. I will show that McDowell’s anticipation at the end of Mind and World of a connection between his philosophy and Marx’s is absolutely correct. Marx’s concept of alienation, formulated in the 1844 Manuscripts, and carried through all of his work through to Capital, maps beautifully onto McDowell’s concept of first and second nature. Further, we can go deeper, and show that McDowell’s epistemological philosophical formulations in the beginning of Mind and World very closely resemble those of Marx’s in the 1844 Manuscripts. Through establishing a connection between McDowell and Marx I will be able to show how we do not have to accept Feenberg’s bifurcated and antimonial position on the relation of human meaning and the natural world. I argue that McDowell’s philosophy shows that Marx is entitled to unite human meaning and nature in the way he does.

Andrew Feenberg’s ‘The Philosophy of Praxis’ #

Feenberg’s 2014 book The Philosophy of Praxis is an analysis and an interpretation of Marx’s concept of naturalism. The book has three different parts. The first part performs an examination of the concept of naturalism in Marx. The second part performs an examination of the same concept as it appears in the work of Gyorgy Lukacs, one of the founders of Western Marxism. The first two parts of the book are fundamentally critical in nature, whereas the third is mostly constructive. Feenberg draws on Herbert Marcuse’s formulation of naturalism in Marxism, and concludes that this attempt at interpreting Marx’s understanding of the concept of naturalism is the most correct.

I will not be dealing with the second and third part of Feenberg’s book in this paper, because much of the discussion Feenberg undertakes in The Philosophy of Praxis is determined by his analysis of the classic texts of Marx. If we look carefully at the way Feenberg has discussed Marx and Engels’s early texts of the 1844 Manuscripts and The German Ideology, then the rest of the argument of Feenberg’s book can be understood. It is my position that Feenberg has not given Marx and Engels a proper treatment in the first part of his book, and because of this the conclusion of his book has missed the mark. This is not to say that Feenberg’s inspiration from Marcuse in the last part of The Philosophy of Praxis means Marcuse is wrong about Marx’s understanding of naturalism—it is that Feenberg even misinterprets Marcuse in the light of what Feenberg makes about Marx.

Naturalised normativism #

The conclusion of The Philosophy of Praxis is that human society and nature are ontologically separate, and that the meaning of Marx’s political philosophy is that social revolution that succeeds in establishing communism will not affect the natural universe, it will merely transform the way humans perceive and interact with nature. Communist revolution, properly understood, will be a cultural and social process, Feenberg says, and has no significance for the natural world.

The first three chapters of The Philosophy of Praxis establish the groundwork for reaching this conclusion. In the first part of Feenberg’s book, Feenberg discusses how Marx critiques Hegelianism and constructs his own system of Marxism. The discussion takes the reader right through Marx’s earliest engagements with philosophy in his doctoral thesis about Democritean and Epicurean materialism, right to the founding of historical materialism in The German Ideology.

Feenberg correctly explains that Marx’s chief manoeuver in escaping Hegelianism was by adopting the position that

philosophical categories are displacements of social ones. For example, Marx is convinced that the problem of alienated labour is the real foundation of Hegel’s philosophy, but that Hegel does not pose it correctly.[3]

This step in moving beyond Hegel is foundational for what Feenberg calls Marx’s ‘meta-critique’ of Hegel. Feenberg identifies three different phases in Marx’s early philosophy that take his ‘meta-critique’ of Hegel from start to finish. The first step Marx performs in constructing his new philosophy of Marxism is that he ‘redefines the terms of Hegel’s philosophy, while retaining in part the relations Hegel establishes between these terms’.[4] The transformation Marx effects in the first part of his development beyond Hegel is that he argues that

Hegel’s standpoint is that of modern political economy. He conceived labour as the essence, the self-confirming essence of [humanity] … [But] labour as Hegel understands and recognises it is abstract and mental labour. Thus, that which above all constitutes the essence of philosophy, the alienation of [humans] knowing [themselves], or alienated science thinking itself, Hegel grasps as its essence.[5]

So Marx does not disagree with Hegel that the essence, meaning and foundation of human civilisation is labouring, working, producing objects. Marx just revises Hegelianism by pointing out that Hegel only considered human labouring to be mental labouring, and that the objects that human labour produced were abstract, theoretical objects. Marx’s position is that it is concrete, physical and empirical labouring that is the kind of labouring which is the essence of humanity. The labouring that sharecroppers, factory workers, truck drivers etc., all perform is the real basis of the meaning of life for humanity.

The second phase of Marx establishing his system by transforming Hegelianism is to take the new content Marx has derived for his system and ‘reconstitute the formal structure of [Hegel’s philosophy]’ with the help of this redefined content.[6] In the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right, and On The Jewish Question, Marx agrees with Hegel that political life, and therefore political philosophy, as up until now been riddled with antinomies. Therefore, the social life of human beings has been alienated, and has been damaging the flourishing and development of human beings.

Marx agrees with Hegel that the reason for the alienation of human civilisation is due to the bifurcation of human society into abstract state citizenship and civil society. Marx more or less follows Hegel’s constitution of the problem of alienation in The Philosophy of Right, Critique and On The Jewish Question. In their relationship to the modern Westphalian nation-state, humans are pure, moral agents. Humans have clear boundaries for their relationships with others, and there is more or less perfect procedural justice for every person with respect to the formal law of the state. Humans know exactly where they stand as citizens, and they have rights and duties with respect to one another that are explicit and logical. Citizens can appeal to the state to have their rights enforced. They can use the state to explicitly effect recognition between humans as they exist as perfect moral agents.

But humans live a split-life as social beings. Humans also inhabit the social space of civil society. This is a second ontological realm that overlaps over the ordinary everyday life of human beings. Civil society is the realm of pure economic relations and affective human behaviour. Humans are driven by their desires—base or intellectual—in civil society. Here, humans do not cooperate and respectfully recognise each other, as they do as citizens. Here humans compete for economic resources and attempt to cheat each other out of their lot. Civil society is the life Hobbes imagines all humans to be undertaking before they make a social contract in order to establish the Sovereign State—without the state, human life would be ‘nasty, brutish, and short’. Humans are selfish and mutually hostile to one another in this ontological space.

Hegel and Marx go beyond liberalism when discussing this dichotomous human life by arguing that the antinomy of social and political society can be transcended—it can be ‘sublated’—aufgehoben. In Philosophy of Right, Hegel argues that the antinomy of citizenship and civil society can be transcended through the power of reason, by constructing a special kind of state. The state Hegel envisions will embody the special logical structure of the Absolute Idea, and will therefore transpose the unity inside metaphysical thinking down into political and social behaviour. Hegel imagines that the perfect state will bring about the existence of the most perfect development of Spirit on earth. The cultural and social connection humans have with respect to one another—Sittlichkeit—will reach its furthest stage of maturation.

But Marx points out that the content of sittlichkeit and spirit on earth for Hegel is purely mental. Insofar as Hegel deems labour to be purely intellectual, then Marx denounces Hegelianism for being abstract. So Marx reconstitutes the formal structure of Hegel’s political and social philosophy by changing the term for mental labour with concrete, physical labour. As Feenberg says, the revision of the formal structure of Hegelianism

consists in transferring the formal attributes of reason to need. In Hegel, reason is self-reflective, it mediates itself in the course of its own self-development in history; again, for Hegel reason is also universal, both in the narrow sense that its ethical postulates apply equally to all, but also in the broader sense that its unconditioned categories apply to the whole of reality. The unity of subject and object is the foundation of this concept of rationality, the essential demand of reason that establishes reason’s imperium. Marx transfers these determinations of rationality wholesale onto “man”. And since “man” in Marx’s sense is a being of need, need no longer appears as the irrational content of a formalistic rationality, but is itself charged with the functions of rationality.

For Marx, the philosophical subject is now a natural being, man. As such, this subject encounters its object, nature, in a natural way, through need. The ontologically primordial sphere is not that of natural science, in which external relations prevail, but the sphere of need in which subject and object are essentially related.[7]

So instead of finding the unity of citizenship and civil society in the power of a mystical reason, Marx locates the beginning of the dissolution of human alienation in humanity conceived naturalistically. For Marx this is an ontological proposition, not a mere physiological one. Hegel would be able to affirm that humans physiologically exist in a relation of need—indeed any political philosophy could affirm this. But Marx is saying this need humans have towards nature is a special metaphysical relation. He explicitly affirms that ‘need’

Is an ontological relation, and not merely a fact of physiology. He writes “Man’s feelings, passions, etc., are not merely anthropological characteristics in the narrower sense, but are true ontological affirmations of being (nature)”.[8] What is more, he proposes a theory of the historical evolution of human need that indicates that it is not only hunger that is objectified in food, but the higher needs of the social human being that find their essential object in the natural world. In this sense the interdependence of human and nature takes on a larger metaphysical significance… . Hence Marx says that “Nature is the inorganic body of man”,[9] to express the idea that man and nature, subject and object, are indissolubly joined.[10]

The consequence of Marx’s revision of the formal structure of Hegelianism is that nature becomes intelligible to humans. It is pervaded with normative content with which humans can connect. Feenberg calls this ‘humanised nature’. Marx fully affirms a naturalised normativism in his system here. Humans are a part of a normativistic nature, and they are supposed to unfold their potentialities within it as they fight for communism, and perhaps progress into it. Marx says,

It is only when objective reality everywhere for [people] in society the reality of human faculties, human reality, and the reality of his own faculties, that all objects for [them] become the objectification of [themselves]. The objects then confirm and realise [their] individuality. They are [their] own objects, which is to say that [people themselves] become the object.[11]

[People] are not merely a natural being; [they] are a human natural being … Consequently, human objects are not natural objects as they present themselves directly.[12]

As Feenberg explains, it is the revealing of meaning in nature that Marx deems as the essence of humanity—what we could say is the essence of the essence of human civilisation. The essence of human civilisation for Marx is of course concrete labour, but the essence of labouring for both Marx and Hegel is the revealing of meaning. The fundamental starting point of materialism for Marx then is that nature is permeated with meaning. As a result of this, the ‘objectification’ and alienation that humans experience is not a non-metaphysical, cultural, social relation that sequesters itself within the sphere of human sayings and doings, but is something that affects the natural world too. Feenberg writes,

It is in the recognition of meaning that subject and object are united. “Thus society is the accomplished union of [humans] with nature, the veritable resurrection of nature, the realised naturalism of [humans] and the realised humanism of nature”.[13]

The third step of Marx’s critique of Hegel is drawing out the social and political consequences of his reconstruction of Hegelianism. Marx asks the question, “What is to be done to cause humans to stop being alienated?” The answer is that humans require economic democracy on top of political democracy. Only when workers can again possess and control the means of production can humans, and as a result nature, no longer undergo the process of alienation. This conclusion is fundamentally a practical one—it is not merely intellectual, as in Hegel. Real humans in the real, physical world must really and physically take back control of the means of production from the tiny minority of people who currently control them.

So alienation is not simply just a social category—a ‘construction’—it is a sickness in the fundamental structure of reality, of which both nature and humanity are a part. It is a distortion of the being of nature and humanity.

Feenberg balks #

Feenberg is right when he says that

Marx’s materialism is thus quite different from all previous materialisms since he believes that human consciousness is a moment in nature’s self-development and not an external spectator on the latter.[14]

And he seems to accept the interpretation he has given of the early Marx as the correct one when he quotes Alfred Schmidt in support in support of this thesis:

The hidden nature speculation in Marx [holds that] the different economic foundations of society which have succeeded each other have historically been so many modes of nature’s self-mediation. Sundered into two parts, [humans] and material to be worked on, nature is always present to itself in this division. Nature attains self-consciousness in [humans], and amalgamates with itself by virtue of their theoretical-practical activity. Human participation in something alien and external to them appears at first to be something equally alien and external to nature; but in fact it proves to be a “natural condition of human existence”, which is itself a part of nature, and it therefore constitutes nature’s self-movement. Only in this way can we speak meaningfully of a “dialectic of nature”.[15]

But despite the careful work Feenberg performs in the first two chapters of the first part of The Philosophy of Praxis, he denies the correctness of the system Marx constructed in his early years. He balks at the possibility of this philosophy being correct

Throughout the Manuscripts one senses that there is something wrong with his [system]. In claiming that “[humans] themselves become the object”, to cite but one example among many, he seems to hover between hyperbole and absurdity. Reading such passages, one wonders if [Marx] really means it.[16]

’Labour is just work’ #

Marx really means to identify the full development of humans into their most perfect form as affecting and also completing “objective reality everywhere”, but Feenberg dismisses this claim as impossible without much argumentation. The first criticism that Feenberg levels against Marx’s naturalised normativism is an old cliché that has been made against Marxism for centuries: ‘not all human activity is reducible to labour’

… equally questionable is the reduction of the fundamental human relation to nature to be labour. It is by no means self-evident that the transformative impulse is the primary one through which being is disclosed. In everyday coping, play, aesthetic appreciation, recognition, and contemplation humans relate to being perhaps just as fundamentally as they do in labour …[17]

Feenberg takes the Marxian concept of “labour” to mean “work” or “pure economic activity”, and rightly deems this ‘reduction’ of the human essence to be a false idea.[18] But Feenberg has constructed a straw man out of what Marx takes ‘human labour’ to be. For Marx, the category is an incredibly broad one. It unites all the faculties of human behaviour that Feenberg outlines in the above quotation into one category. The materialism of Marxism really meant to express that the essence of humanity, and therefore nature and reality, is how humans produce, reproduce, maintain, and care for themselves and others. Feenberg seems to understand that this kind of philosophy is supposed to help us escape the idealism of Schelling, Hegel, and Fichte, but Feenberg says that the

extension of the concept of an object of consciousness is in truth far greater than that of an object of labour. Thus if a Fichte or a Berkeley were to declare that the “consciousness itself becomes an object”, we might disagree with the philosophical premises that lead to such a conclusion, but at least the notion of consciousness refers potentially to every possible object. The idealistic conclusion need not be rejected out of hand because consciousness self-evidently requires an object to be reducible to it.[19]

But this argument relies on the false premise that “labour” is just “work”. Marx never asserted “labour” to mean just work. Marx takes “labour” to also include “play”, “aesthetic experience” and other ‘spiritual’ activities. Labour is the entire spectrum of metabolic exchange that humans make between nature and other humans—it is not just ‘work’, as Feenberg seems to imply.

‘Nature is by definition devoid of meaning’ #

The second argument that Feenberg makes against Marx’s normativistic naturalism is a much deeper and pernicious criticism. Feenberg correctly understands the position that Marx is advocating

For the early Marx, the senses are alienated in the alienation of labour. Only under communism can the senses achieve their highest pitch of perfection. When the revolution transforms the senses by abolishing alienation it attains the core of being itself, as required by the philosophy of praxis. “The suppression of private property is, therefore, the complete emancipation of all the human qualities and senses … The eye has become a human eye when its object has become a human, social object, created by man and destined for him”.[20] Revolution unites subject and object in liberated sensation and thereby reveals the truth of nature.[21]

But Feenberg rejects that nature can possess meaning. Feenberg argues that human sense-perception, with its value-ladenness cannot detect meaning in nature. The immediate paragraph after the above reads

But can one really speak of “truth” in this context? Conceivably, the historically evolved sense of communist man are different from those of man in class society, but are the sense in any case straightforwardly related to the truth about nature? Is not natural science that discovers this truth, often by the most arduous effort to transcend the given social-sensory horizon toward deeper representations? In the Manuscripts, Marx explicitly rejects the epistemology implied by these questions, and with it, the existing natural sciences as well.[22]

Feenberg claims Marx’s position is contradictory, because it supposedly denies the reality of nature while simultaneously affirming the natural. Marx is supposedly saying nature is something humans create when they labour, but at the same time nature is a precondition for this labour. It seems Feenberg denies that humans can be actively engaged in going through metabolic exchange with nature. Apparently nature is something that cannot be changed by human activity, and will always transcend human understanding.

For Feenberg, it seems the natural world is the same as the bald naturalists. Nature, it seems here, is the realm of efficient causation, and not final-formal causation. Nature is value-free and alien to human ways of knowing and doing. At the same time, Feenberg holds that human social behaviour is permeated by meaning. Human cultural objects are produced by humans and are meaningful.

But this means Feenberg himself is actually holding to a contradictory position—if Feenberg maintains that nature is devoid of value, devoid of meaning, how is it possible for humans to escape alienation? If Marx is wrong about nature being normative, does that not mean that human experience with respect to the natural world with must always be reified, alienated? Further, how is human society related to nature? Feenberg rejects the Kantian theoretical construct of the ‘thing-in-itself’, and so rejects that human experience must necessarily be bifurcated, and that nature is an ‘ineffable lump’.

So if human society is meaningful, and nature is devoid of meaning, how are human society and nature related, and how can humans escape alienation? This is the way Feenberg poses the problem—that one sphere has to have priority over the other:

At issue in the ontological question of whether “external” nature has priority over social reality or vice versa is the methodological question of whether theory or practice has epistemological priority. In turn, on this depends whether or not subject and object can be united. In the customary representation of theory, subject and object are not identical, but distinctly separate. The ideal of truth as correspondence of thing and intellect presupposes the separation of the terms it brings into relation. The subject of theory occupies a position beyond all but cognitive connection with its objects, and unites with them not in reality but in knowledge, in a specular relation, i.e., speculatively.

This tenuous subject-object relation of theory is utterly unlike the practical relation the early Marx requires. He insists that subject-object identity be demonstrated by explaining the real process of production of the thought-objects of theory. This involves no merely reflective correspondence of thought and things, but an active creating. But can practice serve this ambitious philosophical purpose?[23]

So for Feenberg the problem of Marxism, communism, the philosophy of praxis—whatever you want to call it—is not about whether or not theory and practice can be united, it is what kinds of theory and practice are required in a bifurcated conception of reality.

McDowell’s ‘Relaxed Naturalism’ and Marx’s ‘Humanised Naturalism’: A connection #

Feenberg opts to consider nature as essentially reified—that is, it is devoid of meaning. This is the same conception of nature that bald naturalism adopts in analytic philosophy. In this part of the paper I will show why this position is a false one, and why Marx is entitled to adopt the position of a naturalised normativism—the position that nature is permeated with meaning.

I will do this by adopting the arguments John McDowell makes against bald naturalism in his book Mind and World[24] and his article “Two Sorts of Naturalism”.[25] McDowell shows that any conception of human behaviour or philosophy of mind that pictures the natural world as devoid of meaning runs into vicious antinomies. McDowell shows how picturing the natural world as devoid of meaning makes it impossible to show how humans are able to be in contact with the world at all It also makes it very difficult to show how humans can communicate with and recognise each other.

Conceiving of the natural world as essentially devoid of meaning creates an antinomy between human activity and the world—in other words, human behaviour cannot be full explained. The concept of intentionality is important in this connection. Intentionality is the concept for describing how an entity can be about something. Humans have intentionality, and the kinds of intentionality Feenberg and the bald naturalists consider humans to have is a very thin kind, and is insufficient for explaining the full richness of human activity.

In this part of the paper, we will first look at McDowell’s argument for a naturalised normativism from the perspective of the philosophy of mind. It will show why Feenberg is wrong about his interpretation of the early Marx, and why Marx is entitled to constructing the naturalism he does.

‘Mind and World’: The epistemological argument #

McDowell explains in the first part of Mind and World that conceiving of the natural world as devoid of meaning leads to an antinomy in the philosophy of mind. The antinomy that McDowell identifies in this first part of the book—his ‘epistemological argument’—is that between the Myth of the Given, and the myth of coherentism.

McDowell constructs his argument by taking some concepts from Kant’s philosophy of mind in the Critique of Pure Reason. McDowell pictures the human mind to be divided into two faculties—the faculty of receptivity, and the faculty of spontaneity. These faculties are roughly reminiscent of Kant’s own faculties of ‘receptivity’ and the ‘understanding’.

The function of these two faculties of the human mind in McDowell is roughly the same as in Kant: the faculty of receptivity is the faculty of sense perception, and the faculty of spontaneity is the faculty of concepts and reasoning. The faculty of spontaneity takes the information humans perceive about the world, and delivers it up to the faculty of spontaneity in order to process the information and turn the sense data into knowledge. The faculty of spontaneity connects the sense data content from the world together with concepts, and forms propositions and claims with it.

Now bald naturalists take the information that the faculty of receptivity collects from the outside world to be non-conceptual, and devoid of rational meaning. This conception of how the human mind relates itself to the world produces an oscillation between two sides of an antinomy—the Myth of the Given, and the myth of coherentism.

Advocates of the Myth of the Given hold that the content of the world received by the mind must be non-conceptual, but delivered in such a way to the faculty of spontaneity so as to constrain it, and determine its ability to form rational propositions about the world. This is because they hold that only the faculty of spontaneity can be the relation between mind and world that deals in the sphere of human meaning. If receptivity also handled information about the world that possessed meaning, that would prevent the faculty from being passive:

What generates the temptation to appeal to the Given is the thought that spontaneity characterises exercises of conceptual understanding in general, so that spontaneity extends all the way out to the conceptual contents that sit closest to the impacts of the world on our sensibility. [Defenders of the Myth argue that we] need to conceive this expansive spontaneity as subject to control from outside our thinking, on pain of representing the operations of spontaneity as a frictionless spinning in a void.[26]

The above passage says defenders of the Myth of the Given pole of the antinomy of bald naturalism argue that human cognition must be constrained by something, and if the data the mind received about the world contained meaning, then the faculty of spontaneity would be able to reach out and change the content of the world—it would be able to imprint itself on objective reality. The consequence of this is that defenders of the Myth of the Given say we would never be able to collect impartial sense data about the world, because it would always be value-laden.

However the Myth of the Given fails as a positive account of the relation between mind and world because that would mean that receptivity delivers up excuses, exculpations, when delivering content about the world to the mind. Receptivity would be passive, yes, but there would be no warrants, justifications or reasons attendant with the worldly content that receptivity would allow the mind to receive. The content about the world the mind receives would be fundamentally non-normative. Receptivity could not be used to show why the world is the way it is, it would only be able to deliver up fait accomplis:

What happens there [at the outer boundary of the space of reasons] is the result of an alien force, the causal impact of the world, operating outside the control of our spontaneity. But it is one thing to be exempt from blame, on the ground that the position we find ourselves in can be traced ultimately to brute force; it is quite another thing to have a justification. In effect, the idea of the Given offers exculpations where we wanted justifications.[27]

The other pole of the antinomy is the myth of coherentism. It too adheres to bald naturalism by agreeing with the Myth of the Given that the sense data that humans collect about the world through the faculty of receptivity is devoid of meaning. But it is in an important way the obverse of the Myth of the Given. It holds that the faculty of spontaneity—what Kant called the Understanding, Verstand—does not need to be constrained by the sense data that human sense organs receive about the world. The myth of coherentism holds that the faculty of spontaneity—what it also agrees is the only part of human cognition that deals with anything meaningful—is perfectly free to assign any rational meaning to any component of sense data that is delivered up to it. Human cognition, or what Feenberg would deem human cultural entities, are in no way constrained by any of the empirical data humans have to deal with.

When Feenberg wrote in the quotation we provided above that “conceivably, the historically evolved sense of communist man are different from those of man in class society, but are the sense in any case straightforwardly related to the truth about nature?”, we can anticipate that he means to hold onto the coherentist pole of the antinomy of bald naturalism of the mind. He means to say that human meanings float free of any connection humans have with the natural world, and in a very strong sense human knowledge is not about the natural world at all.

Coherentism too fails as an account about how human activity can be about the world. Human meaning is sequestered away from the world’s content; nothing constrains the operations of the faculty of spontaneity. The operations of spontaneity are free to impute any kind of meaning or justification to the purely causal worldly content that the mind receives. McDowell deems this “frictionless spinning in a void”. The world can’t constrain judgement, so ultimately the world has no significance for the accountability that an agent has for the judgements it makes about the world.

McDowell shows that Feenberg’s bifurcated conception of the Marxian concepts of theory and practice are untenable as an interpretation of the Marxist ‘philosophy of praxis’. Feenberg sets up the antinomy between the Myth of the Given and the myth of coherentism by casting the problem of Marxist revolution as about the priority of types of theory and practice over each other. This is in effect saying we have to choose between a theory of the Myth of the Given or the myth of coherentism about Marxism.

A Myth of the Given type of Marxism would be a kind of historical determinist theory of revolution. It would be strictly economistic, and would not assign any conceptual importance to questions of agency of the revolutionary proletariat. History would be like a kind of clockwork that either proceeds forwards or is rewound in periods of reaction.

A coherentist Marxism would be like the uncharitable interpretations of the early philosophy of Gyorgy Lukacs that Althusserians like the early Poulantzas make—a Marxist form of Fichteanism. According to this theory, everything about reaching communism is about the forms of consciousness that the proletariat assumes through revolutionary struggle. This is a thoroughly anti-naturalist philosophy—it argues that nature is devoid of any significance for the struggle for communism, and that when humans interface with nature, there is a one-way, non-normative, efficient causal metabolic exchange. Communism will liberate society alone, not nature, and nature has, and always will exist as a kind of ineffable lump for communism.

Why Marx is entitled to his humanised naturalism #

Neither of these poles of the antinomy of bald naturalism about human cognition are acceptable. The whole of Feenberg’s book is determined by his acceptance of bald naturalism. The argument of his book oscillates from one side of the antinomy to the other, and eventually comes to rest in the myth of coherentism with his interpretation of Marcuse.

But McDowell shows us how to escape from the antinomy of the myth of coherentism and the Myth of the Given. McDowell’s move in all of this is to preserve the best parts of both sides of the antinomy, while transcending the consequences of both. This is in fact the same thing that Marx does in the 1844 Manuscripts. McDowell’s position is that we should

First, accept part of the story that coherentism tells. We should hold that the faculty of spontaneity is involved in actively producing meaning, and assigning that meaning to the sense data human cognition receives about the world. This allows us to escape the Myth of the Given. Now no part of experience is a fait accompli with respect to rational evaluation. No part of experience is now immune from evaluation and critical reflection. It is now considered fully normative, and we can subject it to reasoned assessment.

Second, identify both the mind and the world as fully permeated by meaning. Meaning and values fully extend down to receptivity, which means that the content of the world that the mind passively receives is normative. This second element of McDowell’s epistemological argument argues that we should accept part of the story of the Myth of the Given. This is that human cognition can be constrained by the world, and that the content of the world delivers up some sense data which the faculty of spontaneity cannot actively change. This allows us to escape the undesirable consequences of coherentism. There is a passive component to perceptual experience. In receptivity, we can’t help but have content about the world impressed upon our sensory equipment. We are constrained by the world with respect to its content.

This is exactly the same philosophy that Marx formulates in the 1844 Manuscripts, only he stipulates that it is the act of human labouring that forges the connection between the human mind and the world. Human labour takes up the content of the natural world through human sense organs, and connects with its conceptual content, and sometimes passively interprets it, and sometimes actively changes it. If humans were reified and alienated, so too would be their understanding of nature. If nature was changed to become alienated, so too would be its normative significance for human activity.

This is what Marx means when he writes

It is in the recognition of meaning that subject and object are united. “Thus society is the accomplished union of [humans] with nature, the veritable resurrection of nature, the realised naturalism of [humans] and the realised humanism of nature”.[28]

Marx agrees with McDowell when McDowell says that the same kind of normativity and meaningfulness of the faculty of spontaneity must extend down into the faculty of receptivity, and therefore the natural world. Marx’s materialism is therefore unlike what we know materialism to be today. It is a normativistic materialism—it deems the matter of the natural world to be permeated with meaning.

References #

[1] I will adopt John McDowell’s terminology in this paper.

[2] Andrew Feenberg, The Philosophy of Praxis: Marx, Lukacs, and the Frankfurt School (Verso, 2014).

[3] Feenberg, above n 2, 43.

[4] Ibid 44.

[5] Marx, above n 3.

[6] Feenberg, above n 2, 46.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Marx, above n 3.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Feenberg, above n 2, 47.

[11] Marx, above n 3.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Ibid; Feenberg, above n 2, 47.

[14] Feenberg, above n 2, 53.

[15] Alfred Schmidt, The Concept of Nature in Marx (New Left Books, 1971) 70.

[16] Feenberg, above n 2, 53–54.

[17] Ibid 54.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid.

[20] Marx, above n 3.

[21] Feenberg, above n 2, 55.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Ibid 58.

[24] John McDowell, Mind and World (Harvard University Press, 1996).

[25] John McDowell, ‘Two Sorts of Naturalism’ in Mind, Value, and Reality (Harvard University Press, 1998) 167.

[26] Ibid 11.

[27] Ibid 8.

[28] Ibid; Feenberg, above n 2, 47.

Marx's Value Price and Profit Summarised

Sun, 08 Apr 2018 14:47:34 +1000

In an attempt to raise the level of consciousness of my comrades here in Sydney, I decided to simplify Value, Price, and Profit from 60 pages down to about 12 pages. If you would like the text of this article, feel free to email me.

VI. VALUE AND LABOUR #

A. THE LABOUR THEORY OF VALUE #

We need to begin our investigation by asking “what is economic value?” Bourgeois economists don’t have a good answer to this question, but Marxists do.

Everyday we become involved in acts of economic exchange. Transactions that you make at the cash register are acts of exchange. We exchange the commodity of money for other commodities, like clothes, TVs, milk, fruit and vegetables, etc.

Marx points out that a single commodity is exchangeable for countless other quantities of other commodities. The ratios of commodities required for a successful exchange change depending on the commodity, but the value of the commodities always remains the same.

The value of the commodities is the mysterious third thing that makes the exchange of commodities possible. This third thing common to all commodities in exchange, value, is able to be separated out of the equation and analysed separately on its own. We are able to express this identical measure of commodities independently of their physical existence.

The value of commodities when they are exchanged is a social function of commodities. It has nothing to do with a commodity’s physical existence. Value is the “social substance” of a commodity, and this “social substance” is Labour. Marx says: “To produce a commodity a certain amount of labour must be bestowed upon it, or worked up in it” (Marx: 1960, 71).

This labour is not the individual labour of a single person, but Social Labour. Marx says:

A [person] who produces an article for their own immediate use, to consume it themselves, creates a product, but not a commodity. As a self-sustaining producer they have nothing to do with society. But to produce a commodity, a person must not only produce an article satisfying some social want, but their labour itself must form part and parcel of the total sum of labour expended in society (Marx: 1960, ibid).

Crucially, this labour must be integrated into the Division of Labour in society. In order for a commodity to be a commodity, and for it to have value so it can be exchanged, the labour expended on it must be performed as part of the social process of capitalism.

The value in commodities is therefore crystalised labour. It is fixed inside the commodity. The only way the value of a commodity can change is if more labour is worked upon it. The more labour a commodity has bestowed upon it, the more value it will have.

How do you measure the quantity of labour in a commodity, in order to work out its value? Marx answers this question. The time that the labour lasts. The amount of labour in hours, minutes, seconds. Perhaps even months, or years.

It might be pointed out that this theory might not get us any closer to understanding value. Don’t people work at different paces, and at different levels of skill? The lazier worker would bestow much more labour on a commodity, and would therefore make it worth more than someone who worked harder. In the same way wouldn’t someone clumsy make a commodity worth the same, or even more than someone with great skill? Marx has an answer for this:

This, however, would be a sad mistake. You will recollect that I used the world ‘Social labour’, and many points are involved in this qualification of ‘Social’. In saying that the value of a commodity is determined by the quantity of labour worked up or crystallised in it, we mean the quantity of labour necessary for its production in a given state in society, under certain social average conditions of production, with a given social average intensity, and average skill of the labour employed (Marx, 1960: 74).

Marx gives an example on this point. The introduction of the power loom into England in the industrial revolution appeared to make workers work even more. They went from working nine or ten hours daily to working seventeen to eighteen hours a day. But the value of the cloth that weaver dropped by half. This was because it now took only half the time using the new machines to weave the same amount of cloth out of yarn. The product of twenty hours labour now had the same value of what used to take ten hours.

The name for this concept is called Socially Necessary Labour Time. It is easy to work out the average value of labour time in this way. The average of the overall skill, intensity, and productivity of labour, the “aggregate” ratios of all these factors, can be taken from statistics about global or national economic output.

If the amount of time it took to make the same amount of commodities stayed the same, the value of those commodities would stay the same. But the productive powers of society are constantly changing. Labour productivity goes up and down all the time. In the short term, labour might be less productive, and create less product per hour, minute, second. But in the long term, since the industrial revolution, labour has become continuously more productive. It is simple to find graphs on the increasing productivity of labour. It is a law of capitalism that the greater the productive powers of labour, the less value will be bestowed upon the commodities created. The less productive labour is, the more values individual commodities will have. This is because there will be less labour bestowed upon more productively made commodities, and vice versa.

The productivity of labour also depends on other factors. Apart from the skill and intensity of labour, the productive powers of labour depend on:

First. The natural conditions of labour, such as fertility of soil, mines, and so forth.

Second. Upon the progressive improvement of the Social Powers of Labour, such as are derived from production on a grand scale, concentration of capital and combination of labour, subdivision of labour, machinery, improved methods, appliance of chemical and other natural agencies, shorting of time and space by means of communication and transport, and every other contrivance by which science presses natural agencies into the service of labour, any by which the social or cooperative character of labour is developed (Marx, 1960: 75).

B. VALUE AND PRICE #

None of the above theory applies to the price of a commodity. It only applies to a commodity’s value.

Price is a particular form that value assumes in the capitalist system. Price is the monetary expression of value. Price is the form of value in money form. This can be put another way. Price is the value of money.

The price of money used to be the value of gold. This was called the “gold standard”. Working out the value of money in this way was easy. The pound or the dollar would be set to a specific weight of gold. The amount of socially necessary labour time that it took to produce that specific quantity of gold was the value of the British pound or the American dollar.

The international gold standard for the US dollar was abolished by Richard Nixon in 1971. All major currencies are now “free floating”. This means that the price of money is now self-referential. The value of money now changes every millisecond. The value of money is now determined by speculation, by the rapid exchange of money for other commodities on the global market.

This doesn’t contradict the Marxist labour theory of value in any way at all. Money is a commodity like any other. Because money is a commodity, it is exchangeable in definite ratios with other commodities. The only difference is that now, money is now a “claim” on value, instead of actually having intrinsic value.

Money is the universal equivalent commodity. It is the commodity that every other commodity uses to express its value in order to be exchangeable on the market. Money is the appearance of value, where socially necessary labour time is the essence of value.

Under normal, stable conditions, the price of a commodity will coincide with its value. This means that the price of a commodity will exactly express the amount of socially necessary labour time crystallised in it. This means that identical commodities produced under different concrete regional conditions will have the same price.

The market is a dynamic system, and the price of money and of commodities is constantly changing. Market prices may coincide with the values of commodities, but that is not always the case. Contrary to the slander levelled against the Marxist labour theory of value, Marx holds a place for the market forces of supply and demand in his economics. Marx follows Adam Smith in holding that two different concepts explain the reason why prices have the quantities they do. The first concept is market price. The market price of a commodity is determined by the laws of supply and demand. The second concept is the natural price. The natural price of the commodity is the price a commodity should have, and to which all market forces are tending the price to become under equilibrium. Under normal, stable conditions, conditions of equilibrium, a commodity will have its natural price. A commodity’s natural price expresses its value exactly.

All of what has been said above assumes that the capitalist system being discussed is a perfectly free market. Contrary to what the enemies of Marxist economics say, Marx assumes in his model of capitalism that it is a perfectly free market. The existence of monopolies under capitalism will distort market forces, and will cause commodities to avoid having their natural price. But that is not our concern here.

The power of Marxist economics, with its labour theory of value, is that it is able to explain the existence of profit in capitalism. Bourgeois economics assumes that in a free market, under equilibrium conditions, all firms will sell commodities at cost, and make no profit. This model of the global capitalist system has no bearing on reality. Firms are reaping in billions of dollars of profit globally every year. The Marxist labour theory of value is able to show how commodities, sold at their value, are able to realise profit. This is an immense improvement on bourgeois economics.

VII. LABOURING POWER #

Marxist economics distinguishes between the Value of Labour, and the Value of Labouring Power. The secret of how bosses makes profit lies in this distinction.

Without the distinction between Labour and Labour Power, we would be left with a paradox about how to determine the value of labour. The only way we would be able to determine the value of labour would be by referring to the duration of its expenditure. What is the value of ten hours’ labour? Ten hours. For this reason it is a great discovery by Marx that what a worker sells to the boss when they go to work is not directly their labour, but their labour power.

What we want to know when unravelling the secret of profit under capitalism, therefore, is the value of labour power. Labour power is a commodity like any other. It can be bought and sold on the market. Workers are distinguished from the bourgeoisie because the only commodity that workers have to sell on the market is their own body, their labouring power. The value of labour power, like any commodity, is the amount of labour required to produce it and maintain it. We can quote Marx on this point:

A certain mass of necessaries must be consumed by a person to grow up and maintain their life. But the person, like the machine, will wear out, and must be replaced by another person. Besides the mass of necessaries required for their own maintenance, they want another amount of necessaries to bring up a certain quota of children that are to replace them on the labour market and to perpetuate the race of labourers. Moreover, to develop their labouring power, and acquire a given skill, another amount of values must be spent (Marx, 1960: 79-80).

So the value of labour power is the total value (remember: socially necessary labour time) of the necessaries required to develop and produce labour to a state ready for a worker to sell on the market. All the training, the housing, the food, the clothing, the necessaries for children and guardianship—the total value of all the labour required to make a worker able to work.

Marx points out this explains why workers are paid different amounts in a free market. Different workers have had more or less intensive and lengthy training, and live in areas with more or less expensive necessaries.

VIII. PRODUCTION OF SURPLUS VALUE #

The secret of profit under capitalism lies in the distinction between labour and labour power. What the capitalist buys on the market in order to produce commodities is labour power. The capitalist buys labour power and pays the worker for it at the market rate. The exchange is formally fair. The worker gets the full value of the only commodity they have to sell.

What the capitalist buys is labour power, but what they get in the workplace is labour. Labour power put to work is actual labour. What the worker does in the workplace is produce commodities, values. It is not long before the worker produces enough value to repay the capitalist for the value of the means of production, the instruments of production, and the cost of their labour power. Let us assume that the average working day is twelve hours. The minimum wage specifies a working week of 38 to 40 hours (8 hours a day), but it is not uncommon for people to work twelve hours a day now. Despite the working day of twelve hours, the worker might produce enough value to replace the daily costs of production in six hours. There lies the secret to profit under capitalism. Marx writes that while a worker might cover the costs of production after six hours of daily work,

… this does not disable the worker from working ten or twelve hours or more hours a day. But by paying the daily or weekly value of the worker’s labouring power the capitalist has acquired the right of using that labouring power during the whole day or week. The capitalist will, therefore, make the worker work say, daily, twelve hours. Over and above the six hours required to replace the value of their labouring power, the worker will have to work six other hours, which I shall call the hours of surplus labour, which surplus labour will realise itself in a surplus value and a surplus produce (Marx, 1960: 81-82).

The capitalist advances the value of six hours labour, but receives back the value of twelve. The capitalist pays for labour power, but gets labour. Capitalism is therefore the systematic theft of bosses from their employees. A portion of your working day is necessarily unpaid. When you go to work to stack shelves, answer phones, heal people in hospital, you are being systematically stolen from. The value that you help produce in the workplace is being stolen from you and appropriated by people who do not do the work.

The rate of surplus value, the ratio between paid and unpaid work, is directly related to the length of the working day. The boss wants to increase the ratio of unpaid to paid labour. This means directly extending the time of the working day that workers work unpaid. Capitalism is all about a struggle over time. Bosses want to say in control of your time, and stay in control of you. This means reducing your hours when you’re not profitable, and extending your hours when you are. The boss only wants you when it is convenient to them. This is the truth of the corporate jargon word of “flexibility”–the boss wants to be completely flexible, and you to be pliant to their whims.

IX. VALUE OF LABOUR #

The system of receiving wages for work under capitalism obscures the relationship of theft in the workplace. Wages are the value of a worker’s labour power expressed in money. The value produced by the worker in the workplace are concealed by the price value of their labour power. Because the worker receives their wages after they have performed their work, and because they receive the value of their labour power in money, it seems as if they have received the full value of their labour. Marx points out that two consequences flows from the concealing effect of wages:

First. The value or price of the labouring power takes the semblance of the price or value of labour itself, although, strictly, value and price of labour are senseless terms.

Secondly. Although one part only of the worker’s daily labour is paid, while the other part is unpaid, and while that unpaid or surplus labour constitutes exactly the fund out of which surplus value or profit is formed, it seems as if the aggregate labour was paid labour (Marx, 1960: 83).

The fact that wages make systematic theft under capitalism a secret is something new to human civilisation under this mode of production. Under feudalism is was easy to see what was being produced for oneself, and what was not. Under feudalism, the peasantry was not separated from the means of production, and the value of one’s labour was not obscured. Peasants had to give a proportion of their produce as tithe to their lord. Peasants also sold their surplus product personally. The rest of their produce was kept for themselves and did not become a commodity. This mode of production made the source of value in production easy to recognise.

Wage labour is therefore called wage-slavery by communists. Wages are a method of tricking the worker into thinking they have been paid the full amount of their work. The reality is that all workers under capitalism are being stolen from.

X. PROFIT IS MADE BY SELLING A COMMODITY AT ITS VALUE #

The capitalist only cheats at the point of production. Because the worker creates surplus product at the point of production, the capitalist is furnished with an amount of commodities for which they did not pay any equivalent. It is for this reason that the capitalist mode of production is a system of theft.

The capitalist does not sell any of the commodities produced by the worker above their value. The capitalist sells them at their market value. In the realm of exchange, the realm of the market, equivalent is always exchanged for equivalent. The capitalist will get the full value of their commodities, and nothing more.

XI. THE DIFFERENT PARTS INTO WHICH SURPLUS VALUE IS DECOMPOSED #

Surplus value realised in money form is called Profit.

The commodity-producing capitalist doesn’t realise all the profit in the global capitalist system. Monopoly on land allows the landlord to realise part of the surplus value produced by the worker as Rent. The banks and the investment firms who lend money to the commodity-producing capitalist also realise a portion of the total surplus value as Interest. The portion of the realised surplus value left over after all the deductions for Rent, Interest etc., have been made is the profit of the commodity-producing capitalist: Industrial or Commercial Profit.

Money lending and owning land do not produce surplus value. Money lending and land-owning are parasitic on production, and they draw a portion of the surplus value produced at the point of production away from the commodity-producing capitalist.

The value transferred to a commodity through labour from the wear and tear of machinery, and the consumption of raw materials, in other words the value of the means of production used up in making a commodity, does not produce surplus value, and does not contribute to realising profit. The value transferred into a commodity by using up the means of production only replaces capital, it doesn’t generate an expansion of capital.

Doing this subtraction, we perform another subtraction. After subtracting the value of labour power, we have left surplus value, which, when realised, becomes profit.

Profit is decomposed out of surplus value that issues out of the point of production. Surplus value is not determined by adding up the various component profits that moneylenders, landlords, and industrial capitalists receive. It is only by determining the total surplus value produced that one can then determine what profit each section of the capitalist class receives.

From this calculation we can work out the rate of profit, and the rate of exploitation. The rate of exploitation is the ratio of the value of labour power to surplus value. The rate of profit is the rate of wages to overall profit.

The rate of exploitation and rate of profit does not involve any value of the capital that is replaced by using up the means of production, and paying the value of labour power. Marx points out why this is so:

Suppose $100 to be the capital advanced in wages. If the surplus value created is also $100—and this would show us that half the working day of the labourer consists of unpaid labour—and if we measured this profit by the value of the capital advanced in wages, we should say that the rate of profit amounted to 100 per cent., because the value advanced would be 100 and the value realised would be 200.

If, on the other hand, we should not only consider the capital advanced in wages, but the total capital advanced, say, for example, $500, of which $400 represented the value of raw materials, machinery, and so forth, we should say that the rate of profit amounted only to twenty per cent., because the profit of one hundred would be but the fifth part of the total capital advanced.

The first mode of expressing the rate of profit is the only one which shows you the real ratio between paid and unpaid labour, the real degree of exploitation of labour. The other mode of expression is that in common use, and is, indeed, appropriate for certain purposes. At all events, it is very useful for concealing the degree in which the capital extracts gratuitous labour from the worker (Marx, 1960: 87).

XII. GENERAL RELATION OF PROFITS, WAGES, AND PRICES #

The labour worked up into the raw materials used to make a commodity is dead labour. So too is all the labour worked up into the instruments of production used up to make that commodity. It is “dead labour” because it doesn’t create any new value when these two factors of production are used up to make commodities.

Only the fresh labour worked up into a commodity can create new value.

This fresh labour is where the worker’s wages and capitalist’s profits come from.

Because the value from fresh labour is shared between two classes opposing of people, there is a struggle over how much the worker gets, and how much the capitalist gets out of this share of fresh value.

Therefore, there is an inverse relationship between wages and profits. If wages increase, profits will necessarily decrease. If the share to the capitalist increases, wages will necessarily fall.

The values of commodities are therefore completely independent of the share of the value of the sale of commodities that goes to either workers or capitalists. There is no relationship between the value of a commodity, and how much profit is made, or how high wages are.

The law that governs the values of commodities is solely the total amount of labour worked up into those commodities. The total amount of labour worked up into a commodity is directly related to the productive powers of labour. Say the socially necessarily labour time of one hour of labour was one dollar. Further assume that highly productive labour produced one pound of yarn in one hour. Assume that labour of low productivity could only produce a pound of yarn every six hours. In the former case, one pound of yarn would cost $1. In the latter case, it would cost $6. It is entirely possible that the former case could have high wages and low profit, whereas the latter case could have low wages and high profit. The share of the value of the sale of commodities is independent of the actual value of commodities. It is the productivity of labour that determines the price of commodities.

XIII. MAIN CASES OF ATTEMPTS AT RAISING WAGES OR RESISTING THEIR FALL #

A. DECREASED OR INCREASED PRODUCTIVITY OF LABOUR #

We have seen that the value of labour power is determined by the value of the necessities required to reproduce the vital force of the worker.

Assume that six hour’s labour amounts to the average value of the total amount of necessaries that a worker needs to replace their vital force. Further assume that the value of these necessaries is $300.

If the whole working day was 12 hours, the capitalist would pay the worker $300. Half the working day would be unpaid labour, and the rate of profit would be 100%.

Now assume that there is a total decrease in productivity in the world economy, and there now needs to be more labour expended in order to produce the total amount of necessaries required to keep a worker alive and in good health. The average amount of daily necessaries now costs $400.

In this case, the value of the average worker’s labour power would now increase by 33.3%. Labour power would now be more expensive. Eight hours of the working day would now be needed to sustain a worker’s vital forces.

There is only one outcome from this event in order to make sure the worker’s living conditions do not deteriorate. Wages would have to rise, and the rate of profit would have to decrease. If the rate of profit were to decrease, the amount of unpaid labour a worker did would have to decrease, and in this case it would decrease from six hours to four hours. Eight hours would now be spent working up the value the worker needed to buy their necessities.

If wages do not rise, and the unpaid working hours decrease, the worker will now be paid less than the value of their labour, and their living conditions would deteriorate. They would starve, or become homeless.

A change in the productivity of labour power might happen in the opposite direction. The necessaries required to keep a worker alive and healthy might now cost only $200, whereas before it was $300.

The length of the working day the worker now works unpaid increases, and the rate of profit would increase from 100% to 200%, because the worker now only needs to work four out of twelve hours to work up the value of their labour power.

The boss, the capitalist, now cuts the worker’s wages, because they don’t need to pay the worker as much. The value of their labour has dropped.

Although the worker’s living conditions remain the same, there is now much greater inequality in the global capitalist system, because the capitalist has now increased their share of the value of the sale of commodities.

B. DECREASE OR INCREASE IN THE ABSOLUTE LIMITS OF THE WORKING DAY #

We have up until now assumed that the average length of the working day is constant—twelve hours. But there is in fact no constant limit to the working day. It is in the interest of capitalists to make the worker work as long as they physically can, to increase the amount of unpaid labour that the worker does. An increase in the amount of unpaid labour means a direct increase in the rate of profit.

The capitalist assumes that the worker, the human, is like a machine. A machine will transfer value faster into greater amounts of commodities for sale the longer and harder it will work. But in the case of workers, the health and the happiness of workers decreases with the increase of the absolute length of the working day.

Please see Chapter Ten of Das Kapital for a study of the horrific conditions that workers have had to endure for the sake of increasing the rate of profit by lengthening the working day.

If something is not done to keep the working day within certain limits, people will literally work themselves to a premature death to make sure capitalists can get very, very rich.

XIV. THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN CAPITAL AND LABOUR, AND ITS RESULTS #

Capitalists are constantly attempting to increase the limits of profit accumulation during the working day. But there is an absolute physical limit to how much profit can be made under capitalism. This is because the organic supply of labour will literally be killed off if capital accumulation is pushed beyond the physical limits of the working capacity of humans.

There is, however, no real maximum limit to the value of an average worker’s wage. It is only bounded by the total value of the sale of commodities.

There is, however, a minimum limit to the value of wages that a worker can receive in order to keep living. This is the minimum average value of the necessaries required to renew the vital forces of a worker.

Generally speaking, there is therefore a law governing the limits of capital accumulation under capitalism. Maximum profits will coincide with the minimum physical amount of wages.

Between the minimum amount of wages, and the maximum amount of profit possible under a capitalist society, there is therefore a lot of room to move between these limits.

This explains the inherent antagonism between working class and capitalist class people. Working class people insist on being paid more, in order to not live like animals. Capitalists insist on workers being paid less, in order to increase the rate of profit.

There is also another foundation to the antagonism between workers and bosses. There is a progressive change in the composition of capital as capitalism develops and history moves forward.

The part of capital that is composed of fixed capital, machinery, raw materials, means of production in all possible forms, progressively increases as compared with the other part of capital, which is laid out in wages or in the purchase of labour.

It is possible that the proportion of fixed to variable capital was once 1:1. It is a law of capitalism, however, that if the capitalist mode of production continues to develop successfully, that ratio will become 5:1, 10:1, and so on. The share of variable capital can only decrease under capitalism. Marx writes:

If of a total capital of 600, 300 is laid out in instruments, raw materials, and so forth, and 300 in wages, the total capital wants only to be doubled to create a demand for 600 workers instead of for 300. But if of a capital of 600, 500 is laid out for machinery, materials, and so forth, and 100 only in wages, the same capital must increase from 600 to 3,600 in order to create a demand for 600 workmen instead of 300. In the progress of industry the demand for labour keeps, therefore, no pace with the accumulation of capital. It will increase, but increase in a constantly diminishing ratio as compared with the increase of capital (Marx, 1960:100).

It is therefore a law of capitalism that inequality must increase.

XV. REFERENCES #

Karl Marx, “Value Price and Profit” in The Essential Left: Four Classic Texts on the Principles of Socialism (Allen & Unwin, 1960) 49-102.

Commo Dig

Mon, 24 Jul 2017 01:03:36 +0000

A long time ago now, there used to be a mailing list called the Stella Mailing List. I believe it was set up to coordinate the distribution and centralise the discussion around the Starpath Atari 2600 CD series. Many important discussions of programming techniques and analyses of the Atari video game console were conducted on this mailing list. There used to be a website that documented all the most important discussions and events that occurred on the Stella Mailing List, and it was called The Dig. The Dig no longer exists on the internet. There is no cached backup of the website on any web archival website, and to my knowledge no-one has ever saved any of the information that used to be contained on that website.

There currently exists an incomplete version of The Dig called the MiniDig. You can find it here.

The purpose of this page on my blog is to attempt to construct a new Dig. Because I am a Communist, I decided to call this new Dig the Commo Dig.**_ _**I have no idea what The Dig used to look like or how it was organised, so I have decided to use my own organisational method. If you have any suggestions for how I could improve The Commo Dig, please email me at vidak at riseup dot net. Thank you.

There is something important I need to point out. The Stella Archive has not logged down much of the conversation on the mailing list correctly. Sometimes important threads show up as replies to lesser threads. I have done my best to find the original posts for threads by clicking through most of the replies to lesser threads where I believe there is an original post located. But, sometimes I have been unsuccessful in finding an important original post that contains some source code or an important binary. In those cases I have included the earliest reply to a missing post.

If you think you can find an original post, then I encourage you to go to the date in the month of the archive and click around and see if you can find it.

How to Use This Dig

You May Use Ctrl+F to Search Through The Uniform Keyword Labels I have Used. I have labelled all the entries uniformly. To Find
1. Source Code, search Source
2. Discussion About Horizontal Movement or Positioning, search Horizontal
3. About the TIA, search TIA
4. About Sound and Audio, search **Sound **or Audio
5. Binaries, search BIN or **Binaries **or Binary
6. Manuel Rotschkar entries, search Manuel
  1. Andrew Davie: Davie
  2. Thomas Jentzsch: Jentzsch
  3. Dennis Debro: Debro
  4. Bob Colbert: Colbert
  5. Kirk Israel: Israel
  6. Generally search the last name of the person you are looking for.
7. Disassemblies, search Disassem
8. Answers to Random Questions, search Answer
9. Threads Discussing Issues, search Thread
10. Periodic Updates to Games, search Update
11. Demos, search Demo
12. Discussion About Playfields, search Playfield
13. For Requests for Help, search Help
14. For Questions About Random Issues, search Random
15. For topics about NTSC or PAL, search NTSC or PAL

etc etc

The text of this dig is released under the GNU GPL Version 3. It is NOT released under normal copyright. You may copy the text of this dig and host it again where-ever you like. This is the original Commo Dig, though, and it is released under the licencing I have chosen. Don’t be fooled into thinking it’s someone else’s intellectual property. You may use the Commo Dig under all the rights and duties listed under its original GNU GPL v3 licencing.

OCTOBER 1996

Thursday, 17 October

Jim Nitchals: What the DS instruction is.

Monday, 21 October

Jim Nitchals: How Communist Mutants Generated Random Numbers.

Saturday, 26 October

Matt: Matt’s Top 48 2600 Games.

DECEMBER 1996

Monday, 2 December

Eckhard Stolberg: You must turn off the frame during Overscan.

FEBRUARY 1997

Wednesday, 5 February

Piero Cavina: Mondo Pong Game Preview.

Monday, 24 February

Greg Troutman: Pointers about COLUPF.

Thursday, 27 February

Eckhard Stolberg: uuencoded Tetris clone.

MARCH 1997

Monday, 3 March

Nick Bensema: [TUTORIAL] How to Draw a Playfield.

Jim Nitchals: Commentary on Combat’s Programming.

Jim Nitchals: The 2600’s Controllers Can Send as Well as Receive Data.

Tuesday, 4 March

Nick Bensema: Comments on How Games Avoid Flickering.

Wednesday, 5 March

Bob Colbert: 7 Bouncing Copies of player0.

Edward Federmeyer: Frustrations About Making New Carts.

Reply: Glenn Saunders.

Thursday, 6 March

Piero Cavina: Comments on 2600 Sprite Copy Function.

Nick Bensema: Discussion About Coarse and Fine X Movement.

Piero Cavina: Attempt at Collisions Between Hardware Copied Sprites.

Friday, 7 March

Crackers: 20 Pixel Versus 40 Pixel Playfields.

Crackers: Cartridges versus ROMs.

Dan Boris: Still Working Link to Atari Technical Info.

Saturday, 8 March

Bob Colbert: Updating Playfield Registers on Alternating Frames for High-Res.

Eckhard Stolberg: NTSC to PAL porting guide.

Reply Glenn Saunders.

Cracker’s Easy Playfield Code.

Reply Nick Bensema.

Glenn Saunders: Pointers on How TIA Controls Saturation of Colours and Not Luminance.

Sunday, 9 March

Russ Perry Jr: Some Useful Correspondence from Carol Shaw on River Raid Down the Bottom.

Monday, 10 March

Eckhard Stolberg: Why the 2600 Produces Different Colours on PAL and NTSC Systems.

Eckhard Stolberg: Information on TIA Sound.

Tuesday, 11 March

Eckhard Stolberg: Speculation on Why There Are Short Black Lines.

Bob Colbert: High Resolution Scores.

Greg Troutman: More on High Resolution Scores.

Bob Colbert: Etch-a-Sketch for 2600.

Erik Mooney: How to Draw a Playfield II.

Wednesday, 12 March

Piero Cavina: Counting Time Instead of Lines.

Reply Nick Bensema.

Thursday, 13 March

Piero Cavina: 21 Objects for the Price of One.

Glenn Saunders: Sound Utility for 2600.

Saturday, 15 March

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering Question about Supercharger Bankswitching and RAM Access.

Erik Mooney: Confused about Displaying High Res Scores.

Tuesday, 18 March

Marc “King Kong”: Short Black Lines, and HERO etc Skipping First Two Bits of PF0

See entire thread, but Erik Mooney’s reply is really good.

Saturday, 22 March

Erik Mooney: Answering Questions about 2600 RPG Rumour

Monday, 24 March

Read the Whole Erik Mooney Thread on Random Number Generation.

Another Erik Mooney Thread on RNG.

Thursday, 27 March

Piero Cavina: 11 Horziontally Moving Sprites.

Friday, 28 March

Piero Cavina: Request for Advice About Economising Code.

Reply Nick Bensema.

APRIL 1997

Wednesday, 2 April

Glenn Saunders: PRECISE 2600 Sound Chart.

Thursday, 3 April

Piero Cavina: Latest Multi-Sprite Demo (debugged and updated).

Friday, 4 April

Erik Mooney thread on indirect addressing data in memory. Read whole thread.

Songbird Thread on Intellectual Property of 2600 games.

Sunday, 6 April

Greg Troutman’s Z26 text adventure.

Wednesday, 9 April

Jim Nitchals: Uses for the PHP instruction.

Thursday, 10 April

Alpha version of Erik Mooney’s Space Invader Clone.

The thread talks about the “Drawscreen” Kernel.

Second Alpha on 12 April.

First beta on 24 April.

Major update to Piero Cavina’s demo. Includes Background Grid of Tiles.

Explanation on 14 April about how he stored the tiles in memory.

He releases it as a game on 17 April.

Friday, 11 April

Pointless thread, but an interesting dicussion: Songbird on linking consoles.

Jim Nitchals: Answering Chris Pepin’s Question About Hexadecimal Graphical Data.

Saturday, 12 April

Erik Mooney: Player Graphics Display 1 Pixel Further Right Than Missiles and Balls.

Greg Troutman: Dark Mage.

Erik Mooney: Speculation About 2600 Being Able to Address 8K ROM.

Glenn Saunders: Making Space Invaders “March” Across the Screen

Tuesday, 15 April

Erik Mooney: The 48 Pixel High-Res Routine Explained.

Thursday, 17 April

Glenn Saunders: The Source Code to Freeway.

Friday, 18 April

Bob Colbert: Confirms you can run code in 2600 RAM.

Sunday, 20 April

Nick Bensema: “Suckyzep” demo.

MAY 1997

Saturday, 10 May

Eckhard Stolberg: How Cosmic Ark Does its Twinkling Stars.

JULY 1997

Wednesday, 9 July

Piero Cavina: Multi-Sprite Game Version 2.0.

Version 2.1 released on 16 July.

Version 2.2 released 25 July.

Tuesday, 22 July

Eckhard Stolberg: Explaining the BIT and AND instruction.

Thursday, 24 July

Nick Bensema: Attract mode and colour cycling is in software.

Follow up reply from Nick.

Friday, 25 July

Greg Troutman: Rescue Demo.

Wednesday, 30 July

Erik Mooney: RPG Engine.

AUGUST 1997

Saturday, 2 August

Erik Mooney: Interesting thread on using the 2600 to trigger Teletext.

Tuesday, 5 August

Eckhard Stolberg: Cubis beta 2.

Friday, 8 August

Soren Gust: 2600 Minesweeper Version 0.9

Saturday, 9 August

Greg Troutman: New Version of Rescue Demo.

Sunday, 10 August

Piero Cavina: Multi-Sprite Game Version 2.3.

Version 2.4 released 19 August.

Version 2.5 released on 30 August, now named Oystron.

Monday, 11 August

Dan Boris: 6532 RIOT Chip Specifications.

Dan Boris: Howard Warshaw’s Method for Re-Seeding Random Number Generators.

Wednesday, 13 August

Dan Boris: Broken Link to Archive of US Patents.

Describes how to display multiple copies of sprites on a 2600.

References from Piero Cavina.

Thursday, 14 August

Ben Combee: Idea for 2600 Adaptation of Minecart Sequence from Super Mario RPG.

Piero Cavina: Explanation of Access Code Between Multi-Cart RPGs.

Piero Cavina: Interlacing Technique for Making “Grayish” Versions of Colours.

Friday, 15 August

Erik Mooney: Updated Version of RPG Kernel. Read the whole thread.

Bug fix.

Saturday, 16 August

Piero Cavina: Using JMP (indirect) to economise CMP/BNE/JMP.

Saturday, 23 August

Erik Mooney: Answering Piero’s Question About How Galaxian Used 7 Aliens Per Row.

SEPTEMBER 1997

Wednesday, 3 September

Glenn Saunders: Preliminary Suggestions About Using Horizontal Movement Routines From Older Games.

Erik Mooney: More Detailed Comments on Horizontal Positioning.

Thursday, 4 September

Piero Cavina: Advice to Erik Mooney to Write A Sprite-Alone Game First.

Robin Harbron’s Thread on the Addressing Space of the 2600’s 6507. Read the Whole Thread.

Saturday, 6 September

Piero Cavina: Oystron 2.6.

2.7 released on 14 September.

2.8 released 21 September.

2.8.2 released 28 September.

Sunday, 7 September

Glenn Saunders: Comments on Missile Bitdepth.

Saturday, 13 September

Piero Cavina: A thread about the ethics of intellectual property for homebrews.

Monday, 15 September

Bob Colbert: Latest Version of His Multi-Sprite Demo.

Jim Nitchals: Advice to Richard Kennehan About Legality of Disassembly.

OCTOBER 1997

Friday, 3 October

Jim Nitchals: Short BCD Time Routine.

Saturday, 4 October

Crackers: 2600 Digital Clock.

Sunday, 5 October

Piero Cavina: Oystron 2.8.5.

Crackers: Source Code for Digital Clock.

Thursday, 9 October

David Schweinsberg: Platform Game “Droid” Demo.

Eckhard Stolberg’s Comments on David’s Demo’s VSYNC.

Tuesday, 21 October

Eckhard Stolberg: How to Use RAM on a Cartridge.

Bob Colbert: Source Code to Multi-Sprite Game.

NOVEMBER 1997

Sunday, 2 November

Piero Cavina: Oystron 2.9.

Friday, 14 November

Piero Cavina: Interesting Comments on IEEE Spectrum Article on the 2600.

Glenn Saunders: Read the Whole Thread to See Stella Members Introducing Themselves.

Saturday, 15 November

Eckhard Stolberg: “Domino”, an Ishido clone.

Thursday, 20 November

Bob Colbert: Claims Stell-A-Sketch Uses a “Nifty” Routine to Move a Chunk of Memory.

DECEMBER 1997

Wednesday, 3 December

Erik Mooney: Describes How Missile Command Drew Curved Lines.

Thursday, 4 December

Bob Colbert: Multi-Sprite Game Update Version.

Collision Detection Version Released 8 December.

Saturday, 6 December

Ruffin Bailey: Thread on Software and Hardware Collision Detection.

Thursday, 25 December

Piero Cavina: Hypnotic Christmas Demo Program.

Wednesday, 31 December

Ruffin Bailey: Read Whole Thread About Pointers About Combat.

JANUARY 1998

Thursday, 1 January

Piero Cavina: How Combat Positions Players and Missiles.

Friday, 2 January

Ruffin Bailey: Read Whole Thread Discussing Interesting Innovations of Various Games.

Saturday, 3 January

Piero Cavina: Interesting Thread on the TIA.

Correction post on 5 January by Glenn Saunders about the number of gates in the TIA.

Sunday, 4 January

Piero Cavina Hacks Together Erik Mooney’s “INV” (Invaders Clone) Game.

Thursday, 8 January

Erik Mooney: Interesting Answers to Questions About Arcade Space Invaders.

Friday, 9 January

Glenn Saunders: Big Essay on Piracy and the Stella CD.

David Schweinsberg: DROID Version 2 released.

Saturday, 10 January

Glenn Saunders: Request for Source Code Transcription.

Sunday, 11 January

Piero Cavina: INV Version 2.1 Released.

Monday, 12 January

Crackers (Ahhh! Chris Cracknell!): Explaining (now old) Law About Copyright and Piracy.

Wednesday, 14 January

Bob Colbert: Latest Version of Multi-Sprite Game.

Tuesday, 27 January

Piero Cavina: New Version of Mondo Pong.

MARCH 1998

Wednesday, 18 March

Eckhard Stolberg: Explains a Horizontal Movement Routine.

Erik Mooney: But the sprites can’t overlap.

Jim Nitchals: A Way to Implement Single Cycle Resolution W/O Carry Flag.

Sunday, 29 March

Eckhard Stolberg: Movable 48 Pixel Sprite Demo.

Erik Mooney: Does This Mean We Could Make Mortal Kombat?

APRIL 1998

Wednesday, 1 April

Big Thread Discussing the Creation of 2600 Mortal Kombat.

First Annual Stella Programming Contest Winner is Piero Cavina.

Monday, 6 April

Eckhard Stolberg: The Processor Does Not Turn Off During VSYNC.

Wednesday, 8 April

More Discussion on 2600 Mortal Kombat.

Thursday, 9 April

Kurt Woloch: HMOVE Blanks are 8 Pixels.

Bob Colbert: Latest Version of the Multi-Sprite Game.

Wednesday, 15 April

Crackers: Non-HMOVE Sprite Experiment. See earlier post “Aaargh” for Early Source. Thread for Bugfix.

Next Version Released 18 April.

Thursday, 16 April

Crackers: Hiragana Font for 2600.

Chris Wilkson: Misunderstood Instructions: Code that Works on Real Hardware, But Only Sometimes.

Thursday, 23 April

Bradford Mott: He-Man’s Title Screen and Early Stella Emulation.

MAY 1998

Tuesday, 5 May

Thread Started By Andrew Davie on Non-Repeated Playfield By Chasing the Beam.

Thread By Andrew Davie on Self-Modifying Code.

Wednesday, 6 May

Amos Bannister: Z26 Running C64 Binaries.

Saturday, 9 May

Andrew Davie: Optimisation Tips for Delay Loops.

Sunday, 10 May

Andrew Davie: 4 Colour Playfield Demo “PUSH” Version 1.

Final R&D Demo 15 May.

Playable Demo 17 May.

Wednesday, 13 May

Andrew Davie: Optimisation Tips for Multiplying.

Friday, 15 May

Erik Mooney: Thread About Positioning Two Objects on a Single Scanline.

Saturday, 16 May

Andrew Davie: Optimisation Tips on Sneaky Fractional Bit Representation.

Friday, 22 May

Chrissalo: A First Demo of a Game.

Friday, 29 May

Andrew Davie: Optimisation Tips on Subroutine Jumps.

Erik Mooney: Request for Help on Processing Special Cases of Collisions.

JUNE 1998

Monday, 1 June

Nick Bensema: Optimisation Tips for Compacting Graphics Data.

Thursday, 4 June

Andrew Davie: Why You Would Encode Using Sub-Bit Resolution.

Tuesday, 9 June

Jim Nitchals Obituary.

Wednesday, 17 June

Kurt Woloch: New Version of Sinking Ship Demo.

Version 1.501.

Version 1.502 on 18 June.

Songbird: Picture of the Vaporware Game Cybermorph 2600.

Monday, 29 June

Ruffin Bailey: Questions about BMI and BPL. Maybe Read Whole Thread.

JULY 1998

Friday, 31 July

Eckhard Stolberg: Mortal Kombat 2600 Version 1 (?).

AUGUST 1998

Thursday, 13 August

Piero Cavina: Four Non-Flickering Single-Scanline Resolution Sprites.

Version 1.2, 14 August.

Version 1.4, 20 August.

Version 1.5, 21 August.

Tuesday, 25 August

Piero Cavina: Barber’s Pole Demo.

Thursday, 27 August

John Saeger: 18 Sprite Modification of Eckhard Stolberg’s Trick.ASM.

Monday, 31 August

Eckhard Stolberg: Use of the 18 Sprite Mod to Display 18 Extra Lives.

SEPTEMBER 1998

Friday, 11 September

Crackers: Finished Clock Cart?

Bug fix on 14 September.

Correct upload of the BIN on 14 Sept.

OCTOBER 1998

Monday, 5 October

Glenn Saunders: The Black Bars on the Side of the Screen.

Tuesday, 27 October

Eckhard Stolberg: Grid Demo.

NOVEMBER 1998

Tuesday, 10 November

Eckhard Stolberg: New Version of Mortal Kombat 2600.

JANUARY 1999

Saturday, 2 January

Andrew Davie: Reducing Line Art Animation to 48×48 pixels.

Sunday, 3 January

John Harvey: How JSRs Work Using the Atari 2600 Memory.

Sunday, 10 January

John Harvey: Pressure Guage Game.

Tuesday, 12 January

Erik Mooney: These are the 6507 CPU’s Startup Vectors.

Thursday, 14 January

David Schweinsberg: Binary and Source Code for DROID.

Tuesday, 19 January

Andrew Davie: Details About How the 6507 CPU Program Counter Works.

FEBRUARY 1999

Sunday, 7 February

Schwerin: Rough Notes on Scrolling Maze Engine.

Wednesday, 10 February

Schwerin: Thread on Developer Wishlist.

Schwerin: Thread on One Bit Sound.

MARCH 1999

Monday, 1 March

Tennessee Carmel-Veilleux: Build Your Own 2600.

Friday, 19 March

Russ Perry Jr: Thread on Colour and Drawing Limitations.

APRIL 1999

Friday, 2 April

Chris Wilkson: Thread on Using Your Own Waveforms With 2600.

Monday, 19 April

Bob Colbert: Source Code to Solaris. NO FILE.

MAY 1999

Tuesday, 25 May

“Gentlben”: Thread on Some Interesting Questions about the 2600.

Sunday, 30 May

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering Gentlben’s Questions About Horizontal Positioning.

JUNE 1999

Saturday, 19 June

David Schweinsberg: Basic Playfield for RPG.

Sunday, 27 June

Chris Wilkson: Comment on Injection Molding for New Cartridges.

JULY 1999

Thursday, 1 July

Eckhard Stolberg: Version of a Scrolling Text Demo.

Saturday, 3 July

David Schweinsberg: RPG Development New Version.

Thursday, 8 July

Erik Mooney: Quick and Dirty Code(TM) to Send Square Wave Out Joystick.

AUGUST 1999

Friday, 6 August

John K. Harvey: Thread on Colour Cycling Routine.

Pete Holland: Thread Clarifying Some Issues With Basic Assembly.

Saturday, 21 August

Thomas Jentzsch: Thread on WSYNC and RESPx Questions.

SEPTEMBER 1999

Wednesday, 1 September

Mark De Smet: 62 Byte Scrolling Rainbow Demo.

Monday, 6 September

Ruffin Bailey: Question About Getting Indirect Y Addressing Working.

Tuesday, 14 September

Pete Holland: Question About ROR and ROL.

Friday, 17 September

Gene Johannsen: Demo For a Game Based on Grids.

Russell Babylon: 2600 Voice Synthesis.

NOVEMBER 1999

2 November

Thomas Jentzsch: First Version of Thrust Released!

DECEMBER 1999

Wednesday, 22 December

Rob: Ho Ho Ho #2: Horizontal Scrolling Playfield.

Another Version?

JANUARY 2000

Monday, 10 January

Kurt Woloch: Games That Did Horizontal Scrolling.

Tuesday, 18 January

John K. Harvey: Pressure Gauge 2: Multiplayer.

MARCH 2000

Sunday, 19 March

Scott Huggins: Demo From a New Programmer.

MAY 2000

Monday, 1 May

Phillipp Graf: Colour Bars Demo.

Thursday, 4 May

John K. Harvey: Thread About Collision Detection.

Tuesday, 30 May

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering Question About Scanline Numbers.

JUNE 2000

Monday, 12 June

Thomas Jentzsch: Thrust v0.9.

Tuesday, 20 June

Mark De Smet: Answering Technical Questions about the 2600 and TIA.

Erik Mooney: Speculating that Unused Data Bits in TIA Cannot Be Used Like RAM.

Glenn Saunders: Thread Asking Question About 2600 RAM Usage.

Glenn Saunders: Question About 36 Cycles Available During Horiztonal Scanline.

Glenn Saunders: Thread Asking Question About Single Line Resolution Player Graphics.

Wednesday, 21 June

Glenn Saunders: Thread Asking Question About 2600 Memory Mapping.

Friday, 23 June

Kurt Woloch: Thread About Interlacing and Single Line Resolution.

JULY 2000

Wednesday, 19 July

Thomas Jentzsch: Thrust Version 1.0 (What He Describes as the “Final Beta”).

Saturday, 22 July

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering A Question About How the Booster Grip Adaptor Works.

Tuesday, 25 July

Glenn Saunders: Polynomial Counter Flash File.

Saturday, 29 July

Thomas Jentzsch: WSYNC Taking 5 Instead of 3 Clock Cycles.

AUGUST 2000

Wednesday 2 August

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering a Question about Writing to Horizontal Movement Registers 24 Cycles After HMOVE Strobe.

Thursday, 3 August

Thomas Jentzsch: Illegal Opcodes in Thrust.

Tuesday, 8 August

Glenn Saunders: Game Idea About Catching Fireworks Crossed With Warlords.

SEPTEMBER 2000

Sunday, 3 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Thrust Version 1.1.

Wednesday, 6 September

Glenn Saunders: Speculation About How H.E.R.O. Did its Life Bar.

Thursday, 14 September

Andrew Davie: Cheating a Little and not doing WSYNCs.

Saturday, 16 September

Thomas Jentzsch: More on Thrust’s Illegal Opcodes.

Eckhard Stolberg: How the Multi-Sprite RESP Trick Works.

Monday, 18 September

Thomas Jentzsch: The “Final, Final” Version of Thrust (Version 1.2).

Sunday, 24 September

Ruffin Bailey: Thread About Question About Player Movement in an Old Demo.

OCTOBER 2000

Sunday, 1 October

Mark De Smet: Preliminary Post About His SFCaves 2600 Game.

Saturday, 7 October

Thomas Jentzsch: Borland Pascal Program to Discriminate Between Clones and Real Games.

Friday, 20 October

Pete Holland: Interesting Unanswered Question About Collision Detection.

NOVEMBER 2000

Wednesday, 1 November

John K. Harvey: Some Sort of ZIP File? “Guidelines For Setting Timers”.

DECEMBER 2000

Thursday, 21 December

Manuel Polik: A “Holiday Surprise“.

JANUARY 2001

Friday, 5 January

Manuel Polik: “Nasty” 6502 Tricks?

Tuesday, 9 January

Thomas Jentzsch: Tips for Disassembling Games.

Wednesday, 10 January

Manuel Polik: Alpha of a Demo.

Erik Mooney: There Are Two Different Versions of Asteroids.

Tuesday, 23 January

Dennis Debro: Thread Asking Question About < and > Symbols in Assembler.

FEBRUARY 2001

What’s frustrating me is that everyone is referring to the development of Qb in this month, but I can’t find any posts where Andrew Davie actually releases the code.

Thursday, 1 February

Eckhard Stolberg: Answering Question About Address Naming (eg. VAR+2).

Andrew Davie: Quick Demo: Large Scale Animation of Background Graphics.

Friday, 2 February

Mark De Smet: Thrust Compatibilities.

Thursday, 8 February

Thomas Jentzsch: Missile vs. Player Copies.

Monday, 12 February

Andrew Davie: Hex to BCD Routine.

Kurt Woloch: How Single Line Kernels Like Atlantis Manage Horizontal Motion.

Tuesday, 13 February

Thomas Jentzsch: How to Create 6 Digit Scores With Background Colour Change.

Manuel Polik: Early Version of Gunfight 2600.

Wednesday, 14 February

Andrew Davie: Thread About Solutions to Use Up A Single Cycle.

Andrew Davie: Qb Version 0.02.

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 at the Limits of Single Line Kernel.

Thursday, 15 February

Thomas Jentzsch: JAMMED Version 0.1.

Monday, 19 February

Thomas Jentzsch: JAMMED Version 0.2.

Thomas Jentzsch: Comments on Qb Version 0.05.

Manuel Polik: New Version of Gunfight.

Tuesday, 20 February

Manuel Polik: Another Version of Gunfight.

Wednesday, 21 February

Manuel Polik: Another Version of Gunfight.

Saturday, 24 February

Joe Grand: New Version of Game.

Piero Cavina: How Oystron Did a Horizontal Gauge.

Monday, 26 February

Manuel Polik: New Version of Gunfight.

Thomas Jentzsch: Final (?) Demo Version of JAMMED.

Tuesday, 27 February

Manuel Polik: New Version of Gunfight.

MARCH 2001

Thursday, 1 March

Andrew Davie: Qb Version 1.01 (“TITLE SCREEN”).

Saturday, 3 March

Joe Grand: Game SCSISIDE Version 0.03 Released.

Sunday, 4 March

Thomas Jentzsch: Thrust Kernel Part 1.

Monday, 5 March

Manuel Polik: New Gunfight 2600 Version.

Tuesday, 6 March

Thomas Jentzsch: Useful Illegal Opcodes (Part 2: NOP).

Ruffin Bailey: Questions About Some Source Code.

Wednesday, 7 March

Andrew Davie: Qb Version 2.03, Test Version.

Andrew Davie: Solutions for Having a Counter That Counts to 3, Then Repeats.

Thursday, 8 March

Andrew Davie: Big Thread About Video Game Ideas.

Friday, 9 March

Manuel Polik: Big Thread On Detecting Boundaries of an Address Being Decremented or Incremented (See Andrew Davie’s Big Response).

Sunday, 11 March

Thomas Jentzsch: “Trick12” Demo.

The source code.

Wednesday, 14 March

Manuel Polik: More Progress on Gunfight.

Thursday, 15 March

Andrew Davie: Qb Post-Mortem.

Friday, 16 March

Manuel Polik: Merge of Gunfight With Old Archive Code From Bob Colbert.

Friday, 23 March

Joe Grand: Another Version of the Gas Gauge Demo.

Thomas Jentzsch: Invaders Demo.

Saturday, 24 March

Andrew Davie: Qb v2.17 NTSC (Final?).

Monday, 26 March

Joe Grand: SCSIcide v0.04.

APRIL 2001

Monday, 2 April

Manuel Polik: New Update to Gunfight.

Thursday, 5 April

Glenn Saunders: Narnia (?).

Sunday, 8 April

Dennis Debro: Thread on Changing the Colour of Individual Playfield Pixels.

Monday, 9 April

Manuel Polik: Answering Dennis Debro’s Question About How 2600 Centipede Was Achieved.

Tuesday, 10 April

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600: Red River Demo.

Thursday, 26 April

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 Final Kernel.

MAY 2001

Wednesday, 9 May

Joe Grand: SCSIcide v0.05.

Friday, 11 May

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 Final Kernel Part 2.

Saturday, 12 May

Ruffin Bailey: Answering Joe Grand’s Question About Why Colours Seem Washed Out on Real 2600s.

Saturday, 26 May

Gonzalo: “My demo“.

Joe Grand: SCSIcide v0.06 (playable).

JUNE 2001

Wednesday, 6 June

Erik Eid: Euchre.

Saturday, 9 June

Joe Grand: SCSIcide Gameplay Update.

Saturday, 23 June

Joe Grand: Paddle Demo.

JULY 2001

Monday, 2 July

Joe Grand: SCSIcide v1.09.

Friday, 13 July

Erik Eid: New Euchre Version.

Thursday, 26 July

Joe Grand: SCSIcide v1.2.

Saturday, 28 July

Erik Eid: Euchre Update.

Sunday, 29 July

Thomas Jentzsch: Starmaster Disassembled.

AUGUST 2001

Tuesday, 7 August

Thomas Jentzsch: Preliminary Comments on River Raid’s Random Generation.

John K. Harvey: Teleterm 2600.

Wednesday, 8 August

Manuel Polik: Horizontal Positioning Issue.

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 Final Kernel Part 3.

Monday, 13 August

Thomas Jentzsch: River Raid Disassembled (Almost Complete).

Sunday, 19 August

Erik Eid: Euchre Update.

Monday, 20 August

Manuel Polik: Help for B. Watson.

Thursday, 23 August

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 AI.

Saturday, 25 August

Thomas Jentzsch: Incomplete Disassembly of Surround.

Wednesday, 29 August

B. Watson: “My First Demo“.

SEPTEMBER 2001

Monday, 3 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Notices that Pitfall! uses a bidirectional LFSR for Random Number Generation.

Manuel Polik: Notices Distortion 4/5 Pitch 0 Isn’t Silent.

Erik Eid: Current Source of Euchre.

Tuesday, 4 September

Manuel Polik: Sound Added to Gunfight 2600.

Wednesday, 5 September

Jake Patterson: “Silly Little Demo Kind Of Thing”.

Manuel Polik: How Gunfight 2600 Does Its Sound.

Saturday, 8 September

Manuel Polik: Observations While Part Way Through Disassembling Outlaw.

Monday, 10 September

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Released.

Glenn Saunders: Polynomial Counter Flash File.

Saturday, 15 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Tune2600 v0.5.

Thursday, 20 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Commenting on Coding Styles In the Old Days and Nowadays.

Glenn Saunders: New Version of Death Derby.

Saturday, 22 September

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Build 0002.

Nicolas Olhaberry: Colours Selector BIN for PAL.

Sunday, 23 September

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Build 0003.

Thursday, 27 September

Glenn Saunders: Answering a Question About How to Generate a Health Bar.

Roger Williams: Answering the Same Question.

Sunday, 30 September

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 Scenarios Complete.

OCTOBER 2001

Saturday, 6 October

Glenn Saunders: New Build of Death Derby.

Monday, 8 October

B. Watson: Question About Entropy and Randomness and RNG From Suicide Mission.

Wednesday, 10 October

Manuel Polik: Observations About Horizontal Movement in David Crane’s Outlaw.

Thomas Jentzsch: Pitfall! Disassembly.

Thursday, 11 October

Manuel Polik: Outlaw Disassembly.

A quick comment.

Sunday, 14 October

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Build 0006.

Monday, 15 October

Inkling: Hypnotic v0.04.

Saturday, 20 October

Roger Williams: Sprite Movement Demos.

Sunday, 21 October

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Build 0008.

Monday, 22 October

B. Watson: “Silly Game Idea“.

Monday, 29 October

Manuel Polik: New Version of Gunfight 2600.

NOVEMBER 2001

Thursday, 1 November

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600: Final Run Part 2.

Friday, 2 November

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600: Beta Release.

Somewhere along here someone releases a disassembly of Adventure, but the email doesn’t show up in the list archive.

Thursday, 8 November

Manuel Polik: Gunfight Release Candidate!

Manuel Polik: Update to Nick Bensema’s Disassembly of Defender.

Friday, 9 November

Erik Eid: Another Update to Euchre.

Saturday, 10 November

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Release 0013.

Monday, 12 November

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600 With Added Music and Bugfixes.

Wednesday, 14 November

Jake Patterson: Update to the Baubles Game.

Friday, 16 November

B. Watson: Poker Solitaire.

Monday, 19 November

Manuel Polik: Gunfight 2600: Final Release Version.

Tuesday, 20 November

Roger Williams: BAStella Programming Language Proposal.

Sunday, 25 November

Erik Eid: A Successful Optimisation of Euchre.

Monday, 26 November

B. Watson: Poker Solitaire, Versions 012 and 014.

Friday, 30 November

B. Watson: Poker Solitaire 019.

DECEMBER 2001

Tuesday, 4 December

B. Watson: Poker Solitaire 020.

Sunday, 16 November

Andrew Wallace: Post: “Finally Found Some Time to Work on My Game”.

JANUARY 2002

Friday, 11 January

Manuel Polik: “The Beta Demo“.

Saturday, 19 January

Billy Eno: Warring Worms Finished!

Monday, 28 January

Billy Eno: New and Improved Warring Worms.

FEBRUARY 2002

Thursday, 7 February

Billy Eno: Warring Worms Final Debug.

Saturday, 9 February

Manuel Polik: Starfield V1.0 Release.

Tuesday, 12 February

Manuel Polik: Added a Crosshair to Starfield.

Friday, 22 February

Manuel Polik: Thread about VDEL.

MARCH 2002

Saturday, 2 March

Roger Williams: Definitive Combat Disassembly.

Saturday, 16 March

Manuel Polik: Repositioning Proof of Concept.

Thomas Jentzsch: Jtzball Alpha.

Tuesday, 19 March

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby 0016 and VDEL problems.

Saturday, 23 March

Manuel Polik: Tie Fighters Sprites BIN.

Sunday, 24 March

Manuel Polik: Y-Sorting Alternative for Thomas.

Monday, 25 March

Manuel Polik: Sorting Algorithms.

Manuel Polik: Bubble Sort Post.

Tuesday, 26 March

Manuel Polik: Bubble Sort II Post.

There is a lot of discussion about sorting algorithms around this time.

Thursday, 28 March

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update After Discovering “The Perfect Sorting Solution”.

APRIL 2002

Sunday, 14 April

Erik Eid: Update to Euchre.

Saturday, 20 April

Manuel Polik: FlickerSort.

Manuel Polik: Update to FlickerSort.

Tuesday, 23 April

Kurt Woloch: Some Good Advice About Where to Begin When Making a Game.

Thomas Jentzsch: Cosmic Ark Disassembly.

Monday, 29 April

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby 0016, Big Issues With VDEL.

Reply by Eckhard Stolberg.

Reply by Thomas Jentzsch.

MAY 2002

Wednesday, 1 May

Manuel Polik: Update to Star Fire 2600.

JUNE 2002

Saturday, 1 June

Thomas Jentzsch: Answering a Question About How to Blank Out the “Comb Effect”.

Monday, 3 June

Joel Park: Thread About Adding Labels to Adventure.

Thursday, 6 June

Fabrizio Zavagli: WIP Game “Treat“.

Monday, 10 June

Manuel Polik: Gunfight Source.

Fabrizio Zavagli: New Update for Space Treat.

Sunday, 30 June

Fabrizio Zavagli: A Hack of Astro Blast.

JULY 2002

Monday, 1 July

Chris Wilkson: Reply to “Higher Resolution Through Interlacing”.

Wednesday, 3 July

Ruffin Bailey: A Lesson for Newbies: Reading Joystick Buttons and VBLANK.

Thursday, 4 July

Ruffin Bailey: How to Use RESMP0 and RESMP1.

Sunday, 7 July

Billy Eno: Warring Worms Source.

Monday, 8 July

Manuel Polik: Star Fire 2600 Update.

Tuesday, 9 July

Manuel Polik: An annotated version of VCS.H.

Thursday, 11 July

Erik Eid: Thread Discussion ABout a Canonical VCS.H.

Saturday, 13 July

Paul Slocum: Composed a New Song for Marble Craze.

Sunday, 14 July

Ruffin Bailey: Newbie Lesson Relearned – WSYNC and HMOVE.

Ruffin Bailey: Player Animation Basics Take 1.

Sunday, 21 July

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update – Return of the Starfield??

Tuesday, 23 July

Manuel Polik: Answering a Question About How to Learn How to Program AI.

Sunday, 28 July

Erik Eid: Euchre Update.

Wednesday, 31 July

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update.

AUGUST 2002

Sunday, 4 August

Nick Bensema: My First Demo in a While.

Thursday, 8 August

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update (Kernel Finished?).

Saturday, 10 August

Thomas Jentzsch: Robot City Alpha.

Monday, 12 August

Fabrizio Zavagli: Space Treat Release Version, BIN and Source.

Erik Eid: Euchre: At The Barn Door.

Tuesday, 13 August

Billy Eno: Need an Opinion on Cube Quest.

Friday, 16 August

Billy Eno: Cube Conquest Interlacing Success! See Whole Thread.

Sunday, 18 August

Glenn Saunders: Improved Interlace Demo.

Monday, 19 August

Billy Eno: Interlacing Game (Some Sort of Spaceship).

Tuesday, 20 August

Erik Mooney: “I Called The Correct Way to Do Interlacing 2 Years Ago“.

Tuesday, 27 August

Dennis Debro: Dragonfire Source Code.

Dennis Debro: Porting Climber5 to the 2600, Need Kernel Help.

Dan Boris: Thread About Controversy Over Airworld.

Thursday, 29 August

Eric Ball: Skeleton, a New Game!

Friday, 30 August

Manuel Polik: Maze Generation.

SEPTEMBER 2002

Sunday, 1 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Robot City v0.18.

Billy Eno: Interlace Game Demo.

Tuesday, 3 September

Erik Eid: Euchre Update.

Erik Eid: Euchre Alpha.

Thursday, 5 September

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Creating a Universe.

Friday, 6 September

Eric Ball: Skeleton “Complete”.

Monday, 6 September

Eric Ball: Skeleton v1.1.

Sunday, 15 September

Thomas Jentzsch: Robot City v0.21.

Monday, 16 September

Erik Eid: Euchre: Beta.

Fabrizio Zavagli: New Ball Game.

Thursday, 19 September

Manuel Polik: 8K Bankswitch Template.

Wednesday, 25 September

Manuel Polik: Ballblazer Demo Subroutines.

Thursday, 26 September

Manuel Polik: Beta Demo v1.1.

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Shootable!

Saturday, 28 September

Erik Eid: Euchre: Release Candidate.

OCTOBER 2002

Tuesday, 1 October

Eckhard Stolberg: How to Get T1024T Timer to Work Properly.

Erik Eid: Euchre: Release Candidate 2.

Monday, 7 October

Christopher Tumber: My First 2600 Game: Yet Another Invasion.

Wednesday, 9 October

Dennis Debro: 2600 Climber5 Port Working! Single Line Kernel!

Thursday, 10 October

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Cockpit View.

Eric Ball: RESBL Strangeness.

Some Explanations For The Issue.

Potential Complete Explanation.

Confirmation by Erik Mooney.

Friday, 11 October

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Explosions!

Saturday, 12 October

Kirk Israel: Thread About Issues With HMBL.

Tuesday, 15 October

Eric Ball: New PAL and NTSC Versions of Skeleton.

Dennis Debro: Issues With Climber5: Jittery Horizontal Movement.

O. Scholz: Thread About PAL vs NTSC Colours.

Wednesday, 16 October

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Advice on Radar Needed. (Thread)

Kirk Israel: A Lint That Can Inspect DASM List Files and Find Conditional Branches Over Page Boundaries.

Thursday, 17 October

Christopher Tumber: Space Instigators (Formerly TAY) Final Version?

Saturday, 19 October

Christopher Tumber: Space Instigators v18.

Monday, 21 October

Chris Tumber: Space Instigators v19.

Manuel Polik: Thread About Difference Between M0 and BL.

Tuesday, 22 October

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Radar Completed! Bug Regarding M0 and BL Found!

Follow Up.

Manuel Polik: Partial Disassembly of Star Ship.

Wednesday, 23 October

Manuel Polik: New Update to Star Fire.

Chris Wilkson: Pointing Out Issues With Star Fire. Thread.

Thursday, 24 October

Eric Ball: Skeleton v1.1.

Friday, 25 October

Manuel Polik: My Best Collision Detection.

Wednesday, 30 October

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Framework Done!

Dennis Debro: Climber 5 Prototype.

Ben Larson: Prototype of “Incoming”.

Manuel Polik: Revolutionary Horizontal Position Discovered in Battlezone!

Thursday, 31 October

Manuel Polik: Battlezone Crash Analysis.

NOVEMBER 2002

Sunday, 3 November

Rico: Thread About Playfield Basics.

Monday, 4 November

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Crash Completed!

Thursday, 7 November

Manuel Polik: Object Handler Organisation.

Friday, 8 November

Manuel Polik: Textpad Macros For Commenting/Uncommenting.

Wednesday, 13 November

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Meteor Dance!

Monday, 18 November

Dennis Debro: Thread About PAL VSYNC Timings.

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Meteor Dance 2!

Tuesday, 26 November

Manuel Polik: Revolutionary Horizontal Positioning 2.

Dennis Debro: A Program To Test How Random the RIOT is at Startup. See Whole Thread.

Thursday, 28 November

Manuel Polik: Complete Rewrite of the Star Fire Kernel!

Friday, 29 November

Eric Ball: RESP and HMP Quirks.

DECEMBER 2002

Tuesday, 3 December

Ronen Habot: See Whole Thread About F8 Bankswitching Experiment.

Saturday, 7 December

Manuel Polik: Bankswitching Trickery and Self-Modifying Code in the Original Library.

Monday, 9 December

Thomas Jentzsch: Beginnings of Boulderdash for 2600. Using Players to Produce the Graphics.

Manuel Polik: Bankswitching Trickery 2.

Sunday, 15 December

Eckhard Stolberg: How FE Bankswitching Works.

Manuel Polik: A-Team PAL Conversion.

Monday, 16 December

Eric Ball: Revolutionary Horizontal Positioning 3.

Friday, 20 December

Billy Eno: Tree Hugger Update.

Tuesday, 24 December

Fabrizio Zavagli: Space Treat New Version.

Thursday, 26 December

Thomas Jentzsch: Broken Thread on Rubik’s Cube 3D 2600.

Friday, 27 December

Greg Troutman: The “Perfect” Version of TPS.BIN.

Monday, 30 December

Fabrizio Zavagli: Space Treat With Score.

JANUARY 2003

Wednesday, 1 January

Adam Wozniak: First Game: Sokoban Clone.

Thursday, 2 January

Dennis Debro: Thread About How Reactor Did Particles With No Flicker.

Christopher Tumber: Basic Playfield Scroller.

Rob Mundshau: New Jumptable Implementation.

Friday, 3 January

Manuel Polik: Intelligent Job-System Idea.

Saturday, 4 January

Eric Ball: Mobile 48 bit Sprite Kernel.

Wednesday, 8 January

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.01: Large Sprite Demo.

Thomas Jentzsch: Rubik Cube 3D Demo.

Chris Larkin: Does ABS, X Addressing Have a Limit on the Size of X?

Thursday, 9 January

Adam Wozniak: Thread About Cartridge Dumper.

Friday, 10 January

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.04.

Chris Larkin: Thread: How Do You Code for Paddles?

Adam Wozniak: Cart Dumper With Weak Pullup Resistors Reading RAM (And Writing $FF).

Sunday, 12 January

Fabrizio Zavagli: Latest Space Treat Version.

Monday, 13 January

Dennis Debro: Question About Number of Cycles for $0C Illegal Opcode. See the Thread Immediately After in the Archive.

Tuesday, 14 January

Thomas Jentzsch: How Does VDELPx Work?

Friday, 17 January

Andrew Davie: Oh No!! Demo.

Two Dancing Babies. (Oh No!! 2)

Thomas Jentzsch: “Zombie” Optimisations to Fulfill Glenn Saunders’s Death Derby Wishes.

Saturday, 18 January

Rob Mundschau: Thread About FIFO Memory Idea.

Chris Larkin: Question: Is it Possible to Declare Constants in DASM?

Glenn Saunders: What Does XYPE Represent?

Sunday, 19 January

Joe Wiencis: What Are the Black Bars on the Side of the Screen?

Tuesday, 21 January

Adam Wozniak: How Do I Get FE Bankswitching Working?

Wednesday, 22 January

Andrew Davie: Oh No! 4.

Saturday, 25 January

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.07.

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.08, Full Source Code.

Sunday, 26 January

Thomas Jentzsch: Dead Derby Final (?) 2LK.

Tuesday, 28 January

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.10.

Wednesday, 29 January

Thomas Jentzsch: Answering Jason Parlee’s Question About Asymmetrical 2LK Playfields.

Friday, 31 January

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung! v0.13.

FEBRUARY 2003

Saturday, 1 February

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.14.

Paul Slocum: Programming Tricks Guide Proposal.

More of the Thread Here.

Tuesday, 4 February

Manuel Polik: Comments on Asymmetrical Playfields and Horizontal Positioning.

Thursday, 6 Feburary

Zach Matley: Combat AI Project.

Friday, 7 February

Andrew Davie: Fu Kung v0.17 Plus Source Code.

Saturday, 8 February

Andrew Davie: Neat Assembler Auto-Table / Label Generation.

Sunday, 9 February

Andrew Davie: 5 Colour Bit Map. Supposedly Doesn’t Work Well on Emulators. NSFW?

Andrew Davie: Colour Bitmap Conversion from Image to 2600 Display.

Monday, 10 February

Aaron Bergstrom: My Scrolling Playfield With Score.

Tuesday, 11 February

Vern: Thread Discussing New Bankswitching Method for Accessing 32K Data.

Wednesday, 12 February

Andrew Davie: Full Screen Bitmap Images.

Andrew Davie: The Demo Image Series #0. Perhaps See Whole Thread.

Saturday, 15 February

Adam Wozniak: Heuristics for Autodetecting Bankswitching Type.

Sunday, 16 February

Zach Matley: Combat AI Progress Report.

Monday, 17 February

Thomas Jentzsch: Reply to Discussion About Andrew Davie’s Experiment in Animation.

Tuesday, 18 February

Andrew Davie: How the Interleaved Colour Sprite System Works.

Wednesday, 19 February

Andrew Davie: Demo Image Series #1. NSFW.

Image Series #2.

Image Series #3.

Image Series #4.

Thursday, 20 February

Rob Mundschau: Stella Memory Map.

Monday, 24 February

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby 2LK v12.

Tuesday, 25 February

Paul Slocum: Answering a Question About DASM Accepting “A” for the Accumulator in the Logical Left and Right Commands.

Wednesday, 26 February

Andrew Davie: Photo of Mario Using Interleaved Colour Technique.

Kroko: FE Bankswitching.

Thursday, 27 February

Andrew Davie: Wiley Coyote Photo From Interleaved Colour Technique.

Friday, 28 February

Dennis Debro: Issues With 2600 Jr. and Homebrew Games. See AtariAge Link.

MARCH 2003

Monday, 3 March

Andrew Towers: New Game: Shadow Keep.

Andrew Davie: The Demo Image Series #12. Photos of Mario and Luigi.

Demo Image Series #13: 4k Mario and Movement.

Demo Image Series #14: Two Marios and Vertical Movement (4K).

Demo Image Series #15: 3 Marios (4K).

Tuesday, 4 March

Dennis Debro: Need Help with Horizontal Positioning.

Wednesday, 5 March

Andrew Davie: Interleaved Chronocolour™ Source Code.

Glenn Saunders: Question About Reset Debounce.

Andrew Towers: TIA Hardware Notes.

Saturday, 8 March

Fabrizio Zavagli: Space Treat Deluxe.

Tuesday, 11 March

Adam Thornton: Does an Image Converter for Interleaved Chronocolour…sigh…™ Exist? See Thread.

Thursday, 13 March

Matthew Ozor: Newbie Asking for a Copy of VCS.H.

Friday, 14 March

Chris Wilkson: Chris Wilkson Saying Farewell.

Monday, 17 March

Fabrizio Zavagli: Resuming Work on “Bounce”. Need to Optimise Code from 151 to 150 Cycles.

Erik Eid: Machine Language For Beginners on Atari Archive (Link Not Broken!)

Wednesday, 19 March

Andrew Davie: Big Thread With Suggestions About Improving DASM.

Monday, 24 March

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby 2LK v16. To be Premiered At PC4.

Henitrope: Need Help With Globe Trotter Demo.

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby v16 Source Code.

Manuel Polik: Big Thread Discussing How to Make a 3D Corridor Game.

Tuesday, 25 March

Fabrizio Zavagli: Quadrun Disassembly.

APRIL 2003

Wednesday, 2 April

SMF_4ever: How Do You Disassemble ROMs Bigger than 4K or 8K?

Thursday, 3 April

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update: New Shields.

Thursday, 10 April

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Update: Warping!

Paul Slocum: Answering a Question About Floating Point Math.

Wednesday, 16 April

Dennis Debro: Climber5 Source and Binary.

Friday, 18 April

Dennis Debro: Using Fractional Representation For Position and Movement.

Glenn Saunders: Big Thread on RPG Kernels.

Saturday, 19 April

Zach Matley: Combat: Tank AI Progress Report.

Friday, 25 April

Joe Grand: Thread About Parker Brother’s E0 Bankswitching.

Monday, 28 April

Thomas Jentzsch: Jammed Source Code.

David Mutterer: Where Can I Get a Starpath 2.0 CD?

MAY 2003

Thursday, 1 May

Andrew Davie: Thread About What You Would Do With More RAM.

Dennis Debro: Climber5 Source and Binary Number 2.

Wednesday, 7 May

Dennis Debro: Warnings About HMOVE and RESx.

Friday, 9 May

Wade Brown: Pattern Processor Code Help.

Sunday, 11 May

Manuel Polik: VCS.H and Segments.

Sunday, 18 May

Aaron Bergstrom: High and Low Bytes.

Wednesday, 21 May

Fabrizio Zavagli: Space Treat Deluxe Source and BIN.

Thursday, 29 May

Manuel Polik: Music Selector Update.

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Release Candidate #01.

Saturday, 31 May

Andrew Davie: 2600 Programming for Newbies.

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Release Candidate #02.

JUNE 2003

Sunday, 1 June

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Release Candidate #03.

Tuesday, 3 June

Rob Mundschau: Gravity Ball v014 – Please Help!

Wednesday, 4 June

Manuel Polik: Humorous Thread About “Stella Programming Laws”.

Thursday, 5 June

Manuel Polik: Update to Star Fire Release Candidate #03.

Sunday, 8 June

Andrew Davie: Colour Baby / Fu Kung Demo.

Monday, 9 June

Manuel Polik: Star Fire Release Candidate #04.

Tuesday, 10 June

Dennis Debro: Random Number Generation Question.

Thursday, 12 June

Manuel Polik: Bug Fix for Star Fire Release Candidate #04.

Andrew Davie: Interleaved Chronocolour Fading Bitmap.

Friday, 13 June

Manuel Polik: Star Fire RC #05.

Manuel Polik: MACRO.H Submission. (Vertical Sync)

Sunday, 15 June

Aaron Bergstrom: Question About F4 / F6 / F8 Bankswitching.

Tuesday, 17 June

Andrew Davie: 512KB ROM.

Wednesday, 18 June

Aaron Bergstrom: I Think I Got F8 Bankswitching to Work.

Saturday, 21 June

Andrew Davie: Source Code to Latest Fu Kung.

Thomas Jentzsch: Big Thread About a Kernel For a Horizontal Scrolling Cave Game.

Monday, 23 June

Dennis Debro: Climber5 With Random Ladders Prototype.

Friday, 27 June

Dennis Debro: Climber5 Beta Update.

JULY 2003

Tuesday, 1 July

David Galloway: Solution to Noisy VCS Video.

Sunday, 6 July

David Galloway: Updated Version of Rob Kudla’s Boing26.

Christopher Tumber: New Game: Fortitude I Quadraside.

Broken Thread Starting With Dennis Debro.

Saturday, 12 July

Manuel Polik: First Rudimentary Implementation of “The FX Machine“.

Sunday, 13 July

Zach Matley: What’s an Acceptable Scanline Count?

Tuesday, 15 July

Jesse Daguanno: Question About Audio and Animation Timing.

Darrell Spice: First Debut on Stella!

Wednesday, 16 July

Russ Perry: Macintosh Playfield Editor.

Wednesday, 23 July

Manuel Polik: Thread Brainstorming Porting Smithereens / Catapult / Stone Sling to 2600.

Saturday, 26 July

Vlad Pylin: VDELP Problem.

Sunday, 27 July

Manuel Polik: GTA 2600: Started!

Manuel Polik: Star Fire: Final Source and Manual.

Fabrizio Zavagli: Bounce! Demo Source and Binary.

Tuesday, 29 July

Pete Holland: Questions About the Structure of the 2600.

Reply By Eric Ball in August.

Wednesday, 30 July

Vlad Pylin: Questions About Off-Screen Collisions.

Thursday, 31 July

Andy Mucho: Big Post Asking Questions About 2600 Sound.

AUGUST 2003

Friday, 1 August

Paul Slocum: Responding to the Big Post About 2600 Sound. See Whole Thread.

Vlad Pylin: How Do You Compile a Multiple-Bank Game?

Saturday, 2 August

Andy Mucho: SoundSim Utility.

Application of SoundSim, “MontySound.bin”.

Monday, 4 August

Dennis Debro: Why Use the SEI instruction?

Wednesday, 6 August

Brian Crawford: How Do Programmers Display Scores?

Thursday, 7 August

Darrell Spice: Games That Cause Problems With the Supercharger.

Sunday, 10 August

Andy Mucho: A Trailblazer Game Demo.

Tuesday, 12 August

Happy Dude: Audio Game Concept.

Friday, 15 August

Andy Mucho: Align Padding in DASM.

Saturday, 23 August

Manuel Polik: DASM Bug Report.

Manuel Polik: SID to TIA Converter: MUSIC.H.

Kirk Israel: Need Help With Joust Pong.

Sunday, 24 August

Kirk Israel: Need Help With Single Digit Scoring.

Thursday, 28 August

Kirk Israel: Delayed Sound Bug.

Saturday, 30 August

Kirk Israel: Yet Another Asymmetrical Playfield.

Manuel Polik: SID to TIA: First Demo. No Manual Tweaking.

Kirk Israel: Select Switch Won’t Toggle. How to Get the Select Switch to Toggle.

Sunday, 31 August

Manuel Polik: First Release of SID to TIA Converter.

SEPTEMBER 2003

Monday, 1 September

Manuel Polik: SID to TIA V1.1.

Wednesday, 3 September

Kirk Israel: Kernels for 48 Pixel Tiles.

Thursday, 4 September

Manuel Polik: SID to TIA V1.2.

Kirk Israel: More Discussion About 48 Pixel Sprite for Joust Pong Title.

Friday, 5 September

Kirk Israel: Bipolar Joust Pong.

Dennis Debro: skipDraw Explained.

Saturday, 6 September

C Bond: How Does Freeway Detect Collisions?

Sunday, 7 September

Manuel Polik: Starship 1 Proof of Concept.

Manuel Polik: Starship 2 Continued.

Chris Larkin: Trying to Set Up a 48 Pixel Sprite That Rolls Colours.

Monday, 8 September

Kirk Israel: Need Help With Indirect Indexed Addressing.

Adam Wozniak: What is the Purpose of Pin 10, (DEL) on the TIA?

C Bond: RIOT Timer Questions.

Tuesday, 9 September

Kirk Israel: I Finally Understand skipDraw!

Kirk Israel: Need Help Optimising My Kernel.

Chris Larkin: Need Help Understanding 6 Digit Routines.

Wednesday, 10 September

Kirk Israel: Remember to Put # Symbols in Front of Constants.

Chris Larkin: Loading Pointers Manually, and Loading Pointers From Tables.

Thursday, 11 September

Adam Wozniak: What Do The “4 Bit”, “5 Bit”, and “9 Bit” Polynomials Mean for the TIA AUDC0/1 Settings?

Friday, 12 September

C Bond: Can You Use The Playfield to Display a Random Maze?

Adam Wozniak: Stereo Mod Channels.

Christopher Tumber: The Multi-Sprite Trick.

Adam Wozniak: What Two Different Values Does VDELBL Select Between?

Saturday, 13 September

C Bond: Has Anyone Made a Timing Chart for the CPU Writes to the TIA?

Monday, 15 September

Adam Wozniak: TIA Audio Schematic: Underneath Text “AUDIO NOISE GEN”, Five Boxes Labelled “D1”. What are they?

Tuesday, 16 September

Zach Matley: “Looping” Demo/Game: Kernel Changes Between Duplication and Reflection Several Times Per Frame.

Thursday, 18 September

Adam Wozniak: FPGA2600.

Saturday, 20 September

Adam Wozniak: If Player Is Even Numbered, And Missile Location is Centre of Character, How Does TIA Place the Missile?

Rodrigo Silva: How Do the TIA Timers Work?

Tuesday, 23 September

Fabrizio Zavagli: Bounce: What Next?

Wednesday, 24 September

Thomas Dunn: How to Make Player0 Move Between Two Vertical Scanlines.

Adam Wozniak: What Equations are Used to Convert 4 Bit Hue / 3 Bit Luminance to RGB 8/8/8 ?

Sunday, 28 September

Chris Larkin: Jumping Back to VSYNC.

OCTOBER 2003

Saturday, 4 October

Thomas Jentzsch: Cave 1K Minigame. Source included.

Tuesday, 7 October

Chris Larkin: I May Not Fully Understand Indirect Addressing – Should This Work?

Monday, 13 October

Jason Parlee: Z-Axis Movement Programming Theory Sources.

Friday, 17 October

C Bond: Undocumented / Illegal Opcodes, Their Timing.

Sunday, 26 October

Manuel “Polik” Rotschkar: 1976 Arcade Game “Ace” Ported to 2600.

Monday, 27 October

Dennis Debro: Climber5 Update.

Thursday, 30 October

Thomas Jentzsch: 1K Minigame Splatform 2600. Source included.

NOVEMBER 2003

Wednesday, 5 November

Glenn Saunders: I Have the Commented Source Code Printouts From Bob Smith’s Post-Atari Work.

See This Broken Thread Set of Replies Starting With Dennis Debro.

Friday, 7 November

Dennis Debro: Horizontal Movement Routine in Donkey Kong and Space Jockey.

Saturday, 8 November

Manuel “Polik” Rotschkar: Discussion Thread About the Venture Kernel.

Wednesday, 12 November

Manuel “Polik” Rotschkar: Common VCS.H Suggestion.

Manuel “Polik” Rotschkar: I Have Written a Macro that Sets a Pointer. MACRO.H.

Thursday, 13 November

Adam Wozniak: Help Me Identify These Two Chips.

Friday, 14 November

Manuel “Polik” Rotschkar: Update to VCS.H and MACRO.H Again.

Sunday, 16 November

Adam Wozniak: I Need Help Figuring Out the 9 Bit TIA Audio Polynomials.

Monday, 17 November

Adam Wozniak: TIA Audio Polynomials.

Thursday, 20 November

Henitrope: Globetrotter Demo.

Tuesday, 25 November

Dennis Debro: Donkey Kong Disassembly.

Thomas Jentzsch: 11 Invaders “Reloaded” Demo.

Replies.

Wednesday, 26 November

Dennis Debro: Red vs. Blue Disassembly.

Friday, 28 November

Adam Wozniak: TIA Polynomials Revisited.

Saturday, 29 November

Adam Wozniak: TIA Audio Mode 3 Polynomial.

Adam Wozniak: TIA Audio Mode 15 Polynomial.

Adam Wozniak: TIA Audio Mode 7 Polynomial.

DECEMBER 2003

Thursday, 4 December

R Mundschau: Need Help with 13 Character No Flicker Routine.

Friday, 5 December

Eckhard Stolberg: Reply Thread: TIA Polynomials Revisited.

Eric Ball: Calculating RGB Values From YUV Values For TIA Hue and Luminance.

Tuesday, 9 December

Manuel Rotschkar: What is the Spacing Between Wide Missiles?

Monday, 29 December

Andrew Davie: Some Experiments in Interlaced Graphics.

JANUARY 2004

Friday, 2 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf 2: Second Day of Work.

Saturday, 3 January

Thomas Jentzsch: Answering A Question About How Much RAM the Stack Usually Uses.

Monday, 5 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf 2: Day Three.

Glenn Saunders: Indy 500 Disassembly First Pass.

Tuesday, 6 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf 2: Day Four.

Glenn Saunders: CTRLPF Rewrites: Timing Observation.

Glenn Saunders: Question About How to Handle Acceleration and Inertia.

Wednesday, 7 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Five.

Glenn Saunders: Question About 2600 Pixel Aspect Ratio.

Glenn Saunders: Question About REFPX in Early Games.

Thursday, 8 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Six.

Friday, 9 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Seven.

Sunday, 11 January

Glenn Saunders: Death Derby Update.

Gonzalo Fernandez: Update to PLANE.BIN.

Monday, 12 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Seawolf: Day Eight.

Tuesday, 13 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Seawolf: Day Nine.

Wednesday, 14 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Replying to Question About Angular Movement.

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Ten.

Thursday, 15 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Eleven.

Friday, 16 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Drawing 4-Scanline Tall Missiles Faster Than This.

Monday, 19 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Twelve.

Thursday, 29 January

Dennis Debro: Climber 5 Release Candidate #01.

Friday, 30 January

Manuel Rotschkar: Sea Wolf: Day Fourteen.

FEBRUARY 2004

Friday, 6 February

Dennis Debro: Climber 5 Release Candidate #02.

Tuesday, 10 February

Dennis Debro: Climber 5 Release Candidate #03.

Wednesday, 11 February

Dennis Debro: Cool Climber 5 Bug.

Sunday, 15 February

Kirk Israel: Thread About Dividing 8 Bit Signed Integers By 2.

MARCH 2004

Monday, 15 March

Dennis Debro: Question about HMCLR.

Sunday, 21 March

Manuel Rotschkar: First Playable Alpha of Seawolf.

Tuesday, 23 March

Dennis Debro: Final Source Code for Climber 5.

Thursday, 25 March

R Mundschau: Rediscovery of Discovery of Horizontal Positioning Routine Used in Battlezone.

Tuesday, 30 March

Erik Mooney: INV Finally Finished!

APRIL 2004

Bob Jessop and the Marxist Theory of the State

Fri, 17 Feb 2017 00:00:00 +0000

I Introduction

In this blog post I want to summarise and assess Bob Jessop’s account of the classical Marxist tradition’s account of the capitalist state in the first chapter of his 1982 book The Capitalist State: Marxist Theories and Methods. You can find a PDF version of it on his Academia.edu profile here. Just in case this link ever becomes broken, I have uploaded the PDF to the blog database here.

I wanted to perform this brief critical analysis of this first chapter of Jessop’s book because I disagree with Jessop’s assessment of the classical Marxist tradition. Jessop argues that the original works of Marx do not contain a coherent and general account of the capitalist state. Jessop explains that the reason why Marxist scholars have failed to grasp a coherent theoretical account of the state is because there is no coherent theoretical account available in Marx’s works. In order to arrive at a successful Marxist account of the capitalist state, Jessop argues that we will have to do extra work. We will have to reinterpret, change, append and reconfigure elements of the existing corpus of Marx in order to give a proper account of the state.

I want to disagree with this argument. As I read this first chapter of The Capitalist State, I felt as if the various strands and elaborations on the theme of the capitalist state by Marx in his original works did amount to a sufficient account of the capitalist state. As I said to my supervisor, I felt as if Jessop had failed to grasp the essence of what Marx was trying to say, despite the fact that Jessop performed an excellent summary and paraphrasing of Marx’s classical works.

This blog post will be broken up into two parts. The first part will be a summary of Bob Jessop’s reconstruction of the classical Marxist account of the capitalist state. The second part will be a short argument by myself as to why we can accept this classical Marxist work as a successful account of the state, despite what Jessop says.

II Summary of Jessop

Jessop writes that Marx did not succeed in committing to paper an account of the capitalist state that matched the analytical power and rigor of his account of the capitalist mode of production. I think we can certainly agree with this. Jessop feels that the fact that Marx failed to do this means that the various discontinuous writings that Marx did make on the state do not amount to any coherent or successful theory of the state:

Instead his legacy in this respect comprises an uneven and unsystematic collection of philosophical reflections, journalism, contemporary history, political forecasts, and incidental remarks. It was left to Engels to develop a more systematic account of the origins and nature of the state and to discuss the general relations between state power and economic development. However, while it was Engels rather than Marx who first adumbrated a class theory of the state, the ‘General’ was no more successful than Marx himself in developing this insight into a complete and coherent analysis of the capitalist state (Jessop, 1982: 1).

Apparently this lack of complete and coherent analysis has lead many scholars to many different contradictory accounts of the content and philosophical legacy of Marx’s account of the state. There are three examples we can give of the competing interpretations of the classical Marxist theory of the capitalist state.

The first is Shlomo Avineri, who develops a “Hegelian centered reading of Marx” (1982: 2). Avineri

seeks to establish the deep-seated continuity of the social and political thought of Marx by tracing the themes of his early work on Hegel’s political philosophy through the vicissitudes of Marx’s subsequent theoretical development (Avineri, 1968, passim).

The second is Lucio Colletti, who argues that the intellectual tradition of Marx’s account of the state comes from Machiavelli, Montesquieu, and Rousseau. Colletti argues that Marx’s theory of the state is only original in the fields of social and economic analysis, instead of politics (Colletii, 1975: 45-48). Jessop adds to this footnote: “For Colletti’s views on the theoretical importance of Marx’s social and economic analyses, idem, 1969: 3-44, 77-102). This interpretation of the classical Marxist account of the state sees it as effectively completed. Indeed Jessop describes Colletti’s attitude to Marx’s theory of the state as considering it “near definitive” (1982: 2):

Colletti argues that Marx had already developed a near definitive theory of state power before the 1844 manuscripts started him on the long march to his most important theoretical discoveries. In particular Colletti argues that the Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Law’ (1843) and the Introduction to a proposed revision of that critique (written in 1843-1844) embody a mature theory that neither the older Marx, Engels, no Lenin would substantially improve upon in the least. And he also argues that this so-called mature Marxist theory was heavily indebted to Rousseau for its critique of parliamentarism, the theory of popular delegation, and the need for the ultimate suppression of the state itself (2).

The third competing interpretation of the classical Marxist theory of the state is by Robin Blackburn. Blackburn argues that the classical Marxist account of the state is very poor indeed. It took until the Russian Revolutions of 1905 and 1917 until Marxists were able to “substantially (albiet not finally)” (1982: 3) come up with an coherent and complete picture of the capitalist state. This account of the classical Marx holds that Marx’s real innovation was political rather than philosophical or economic. The theoretical concepts of historical materialism such as “class, party, revolution, bureaucracy, state, nation, etc” (3) were not to be found in any of the intellectual predecessors of Marx and Engels. They were largely original.

As I said above, Jessop takes these competing interpretations of Marx on the state to be evidence of the fact that the classical Marx does not amount to a complete and coherent theory of the state. The rest of this first chapter of The Capitalist State is an account of how this is true. Let’s have a look at Jessop’s reconstruction of the classical Marx.

A The Early Marx

1 Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Law’

The first text we need to engage with in order to reconstruct the classical Marx on the state is the Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Law’. Like Jessop says, it is the central piece of political theory written by Marx in the period before he became a communist. In this text, Marx shows that Hegel’s idealistic method results in an apology for the Prussian state. It is the specific metaphilosophy that Hegel deploys, Marx argues, that leads Hegel to approve of, and justify, the oppressive authoritarian political system of Prussia. Hegel comes into the political system of Prussia from the outside with his theory of the Absolute Idea, looking to confirm that it can be actualised in the empirical matter of the concrete world. This is the first phase of his criticism of Hegel’s political philosophy.

The second phase is where Marx looks at the way the various organs of the Prussian state are supposed to interrelate and build into a concrete universality. The separate spheres of the state are the monarchy, the executive, and the legislative assembly. These three different organs represent the singular, the particular, and the universal, and there interrelation achieves the mediated universality of the Absolute Idea. Hegel writes that the successful organic relationship between these three elements of the Prussian state allow the State and Civil Society to be successfully integrated with one another. Marx disagrees. Because of Hegel’s method, he fails to grasp the truth of reality that these two spheres of the modern human social system remain inimical. Marx argues that

this separation cannot be resolved either through the rule of a universal and neutral bureaucracy or the election of the legislative assembly to govern in the interests of the people (Marx, 1843a: 20-149).

Jessop points out correctly that Marx agrees with Hegel that there are two distinct spheres in modern society, and that Civil Society is the location of egoism or self-interest. Marx disagrees with Hegel, however, that this separation is inevitable. He also disagrees that the state has the power to transcend the Hobbesian Civil Society, and unite modern society organically in itself.

Marx argues that the state becomes differentiated within itself not because of some transcendental logical Idea, but because of the real historical process of capitalism. Landed property and free commerce are what cause the state to particularise itself. Further, it is impossible for the organs of the state to achieve the status of some impartial and universal representation of all the competing factions within Civil Society because Civil Society infects the state. Hegel elevates the Prussian bureaucracy to the level of a ‘universal class’, which is able to mediate between all the conflicting components of Civil Society. Marx says that this is a pure abstraction, due to Hegel’s idealistic method, and the bureaucracy itself forms a particular interest within the State, among others:

Indeed Marx notes that the various independent groups in Prussian civil society struggle to maintain their interests against the encroachments of the bureaucracy but also need the latter to act as their guarantor of their interests against other groups. In turn the officials tend to appropriate state power as their private property and use it to further both their corporate and individual interests. Moreover, since state power is used to protect the rights of property (especially those of the Junker class), the Prussian state actually functions to reproduce the war of each against all in civil society (Marx, 1843a: 98-99 and 108; Jessop, 1982: 5).

Against Hegel’s overtures about the Godliness of the Prussian state, Marx insists that this society is in fact greatly alienated. The universal interest that Hegel pictures as embodied within the state is illusory, and the Hobbesian state of war against all persists even in this social formation. Marx argues that neither the incorporation of Civil Society into neo-feudal estates, or the transformation of the Prussian state into a proper bourgeois democratic republic will solve this problem of the State being infected with “crass materialism”, as Jessop puts it.

Only the abolishing of the state and of private property will lead to the end of alienation and estrangement in modern life, because only then will the Hobbesian war of all against all be ended. The most attractive solution to the Prussian state, bourgeois democracy, will not end this Hobbesian state of nature, but only reproduce it within the state. Parliamentary representatives will merely “further private interests and … dominate rather than represent the people” (Jessop 1982: 5; Marx 1843a: 122-123).

2 On The Jewish Question

This second piece of work, written in 1843 and published in 1844, elaborates on the themes contained in the Critique of ‘Philosophy of Law’. Marx argues for the continued conceptual antagonism between abstraction and concreteness in the State and Civil Society in this text, and also the infection of the State with the crass materialism of Civil Society with its Hobbesian state of nature:

Marx argues that the modern state abolished the political significance of religion, birth, rank, education, and occupation through the institution of formal equality among its citizens; but it could not abolish their continuing social significance in the reproduction of their substantive inequalities. Thus, although the modern state and civil society are structurally distinct, it is the egoism of civil society that shapes political activity (Marx, 1843b: 153 and 164). Accordingly Marx concludes that the emancipation of man requires more than the concession of formal political freedom. It can be completed only when the individual activities of men are reorganised to give full expression to their social and public nature (Marx 1843b: 167-168).

As Colletti says in his introduction to Karl Marx: Early Writings (1974-1975):

Civil society, claims Marx, can acquire political meaning and efficacy only by an act of ‘thoroughgoing transubstantiation’, an act by which ‘civil society must completely renounce itself as civil society, as a private class and must instead assert the validity of a part of its being which not only has nothing in common with, but is directly opposed to, its real civil existence’ (36).

Those passages come from the Critique, but as Colletti says:

… both texts arrive at the same conclusion: the political constitution of modern representative states is in reality the ‘constitution of private property’. Marx sees this formula as summing up the whole inverted logic of modern society. It signifies that the universal, the ‘general interest’ of the community at large, not only does not unite men together effectively but actually sanctifies and legitimises their disunity. In the name of a universal principle (the obligatory aspect of ‘law’ as a general expression of a general or social will) it consecrates private property, or the right of individuals to pursue their own exclusive interests independently of, and sometimes against, society itself (36-37).

3 Introduction to a Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s ‘Philosophy of Law’

III My Response

“Simple-Minded Bullshit”: How Texts Have Intrinsic Meaning

Mon, 30 Jan 2017 21:34:09 +0000

In this blog post, I want to argue that political texts have intrinsic meaning. By this I mean that we should be essentialists about the meaning of political texts (hereafter just “text”).

Being an essentialist about a text’s meaning means that one holds that a text possesses a finite set of attributes that are necessary for its identity and function as a meaningful piece of work. This should immediately appear controversial to some. It is a widely held view that the meaning of a text is to be understood in a fundamentally anti-essentialist manner. The meaning of a political text is in no way necessarily given, on an anti-essentialist account of meaning. On this view, the meaning of a text is contingent on a range of varying epiphenomenal factors (external, secondary factors). It is very popular to say, for instance, that the meaning of a text “changes” when it is interpreted in different contexts.

Anti-essentialism is a very popular view of textual interpretation, but I want to argue that it is wrong. The main argument I want to give for this is that if we deprive texts of intrinsic meaning, they cannot be shown to have any determinate rational content. It is impossible for a text to be “committed” to anything if it cannot have determinate rational content. Further, I want to argue that the only way for a text to be able to be assessed rationally is if it possesses intrinsic meaning. The only way for a text to have determinate rational content is if it possesses intrinsic meaning.

Dialectical Monism #

What I am putting forward is very radical. The picture of public rationality and political discussion that I am putting forward is radically monist. This means that I am asserting that the sphere of political discussion and action that humans inhabit is fundamentally unified. I assert that when it comes to political discussion and action, we inhabit one world, and one world only. There are not, as post-modernists assert, multiple different “realities” or social spheres. The political ontology that I am offering up here is one where all discussion and action occurs on the same level.

On this account, if the conditions were right, it is a very real possibility that every human should be able to make themselves intelligible to one another. The conditions that satisfy the mutual intelligibility of political agents would be the conditions of rationality. The universe of political discussion and action is therefore guided by one standard of rationality. This is a totalising philosophy. This is another feature that sets this system of textual interpretation apart from a post-modern one. Post-modern philosophy resists grand narratives and totalising structures. They do this for many reasons, a famous one being that totalising structures are necessarily oppressive, or lead to one being open to be tricked by illusions and contradictions. I’d like to resist that judgement about totalising philosophies. I argue that there is no way to escape subscribing to some or other assumptions about what the total world is like, in order to say something in particular. Hegel calls this “demanding the universal”. Hegel says that every particular argument you make is built into a complex background network of related judgements and assumptions. Having a rigorous account and analysis of these systems, building into a total system, ensures that what you are saying in particular is rational.

The standard of rationality I have in mind for ensuring that political agents can be made mutually intelligible to one another is lifted straight from Hegel. “Absolute negation” is the standard of rationality. Hegel says _negation _is some entity being related to something it is not. The concepts of otherness and negations are mutually supporting. When an entity is undergoing a moment of negativity, Hegel says it is undergoing change. _Absolute _negation is when an entity can determine itself through something which it is not, without being alien to that other entity (Ikaheimo, 2011: 160). Hegel also calls this freedom. Hegel argues that absolute negation is the standard of rationality for any kind of political discourse because it shows some entity or judgement can withstand contradiction without losing its identity. Something can withstand otherness without being destroyed. One can immediately appreciate how powerful this kind of standard of rationality is. As we shall see below, Hegel offers up the perfect metaphilosophy for understanding they key issue of our time: intersectionality.

It turns out that humans have the potential to be the perfect kind of entity in the universe, thanks to this standard of rationality. If humans are able to undergo absolute negation with one another, they are free. The more perfect the process of absolute negation, the more perfectly free humans are. The specific kind of process that humans go through in order to achieve absolute negation is called _self-consciousness _(Ikaheimo: ibid). Another name for Hegelian self-consciousness is _intersubjective recognition. _Humans have the ability to determine themselves through others by recognising others, that is, by relating themselves to others _intersubjectively. _Terry Pinkard puts a Kantian spin on this process, and says that this is a process of social legislation. I want to disagree with this characterisation. Self-consciousness is fundamentally anti-liberal and anti-pragmatic. The picture of meaning and human agency that Hegel is putting forward is fundamentally _ontological. _This means that Hegel is not merely trying to say something about what humans do, but what they and the universe are like. Hegel says that self-consciousness only manifests itself in social and cultural institutions, and is not a process of mere social legislation or mere “giving and asking for reasons”, as a follower of Wilfrid Sellars might put it. Hegel calls the social and cultural institutions that humans create in an attempt to govern the imperfect processes of absolute negation _Spirit. _When humans have social institutions which can facilitate self-consciousness perfectly, they have the perfect kind of society. Humans will be perfectly free.

This kind of system has strong links with Spinoza. Hegel argues that imperfect “forms of consciousness” (imperfect structures of intersubjective recognition) are real, but they are not true. This is what Hegel means when he says frequently that something is real, but at the same time false. He means that that entity does not accord properly with the demands of the Absolute Idea, the standard of rationality of absolute negation.

So embedded in this argument I am about to make about texts having intrinsic meaning is a political ontology which puts forward the very real possibility that humans can achieve a perfect society. I suggest this is the society Marx was imagining. Hegel’s metaphysics is completed by Marx. The society which will best facilitate self-consciousness is communism. The four kinds of “estranged labour” that Marx talked about in the 1844 Manuscripts are an articulation of Hegel’s theory of self-consciousness. So is the concept of commodity fetishism in Section 4 of Chapter 1 of Capital.

Deducing Intrinsic Meaning #

I do not mean to simply offer up this political ontology and argue that because this political ontology is attractive, I must therefore be right about texts having intrinsic meaning. I am certainly open to doing that, but I want to do more than just that. I want to _show _that this popular idea that texts do not have an essential meaning is false. Further, I want to show that if we examine the movement of the arguments for anti-essentialism, we can see that it is necessary that we conclude that texts have intrinsic meaning. By examining the structure of anti-essentialism, not only will we be able to show that it is false (in the sense of absolute negation), but that the logical conclusion of anti-essentialism is an essentialist theory of meaning of texts.

The Romantic Genius: The Beautiful Soul #

“Reason” is the third chapter of Hegel’s _Phenomenology of Spirit _(1807). We can reconstruct Hegel’s general argument in this chapter in order to show that texts have intrinsic meaning. The chapter “Reason” deals with the change in structure of self-consciousness that went on during the Enlightenment, right up until Hegel’s day. But in this chapter Hegel only deals with the effects of the Enlightenment at the level of individual consciousness. So if one reads the Phenomenology and stops at the end of “Reason”, they will only have an abstract understanding of absolute negation. You will not know the full story. Hegel is famous for this sort of philosophical exposition. He ascends from the most particular to the most general, incorporating more and more parts of his total system until he reaches the top. We would normally take the most general and sweeping pronouncements of a theory as an abstract summary of its overall upshot, but for a Hegelian or a Spinozist this is the theory at its most concrete. Hegelian systems are organic systems. This means that all the previous levels of the system are still preserved at the top, they’ve just reached their most perfect deduction at their highest level of generality. The lower levels have shown that the top is true. This is a fundamentally Aristotelian idea, and although Spinoza is not a fan of organicisim, Spinozist philosophy holds onto the same kind of theoretical exposition.

The second and third parts of “Reason” deal with morality. The first part of “Reason” dealt with natural science. If you follow the development of the first part of “Reason”, and you agree with Hegel’s argument, you will agree with Hegel that the disenchanted picture of the universe that natural science puts forward doesn’t offer us a complete picture of the universe. That’s beside the point right now.

The final moments of “Reason” offer us the answer to how it is possible for texts to have intrinsic meaning, and how this picture of meaning emerges out of anti-essentialism. Hegel discusses the dialectic of the “beautiful soul” in the final moments of Reason. In this part of the Phenomenology, Hegel is concerned to demonstrate how it is possible for there to be any kind of determinate ethical content in an individualistic human society. How is it possible for society to exist as a collection of atomised individuals, and yet have stable and coherent systems of morality?

Hegel examines the dialectic of an extreme form of individualism not unlike the individualism of today’s neoliberalism: the picture of the “genius” put forward by Romantic philosophers. Hegel calls the Romantic genius the “beautiful soul”. The label is clearly meant as a criticism. The beautiful soul will at once be recognisable to to the seasoned internet user. The beautiful soul is a contradictory form of self-consciousness. The beautiful soul holds that there is only one stable form of moral law, or moral duty, and that is the beautiful soul’s own conscience. We can immediately see how this relates to a discussion about the intrinsic meaning of texts. The content of the moral duty to which the beautiful soul holds themselves, therefore, is not found in the moral law to which they are committed, but in their own conscience, their own opinion.

Any kind of moral law or duty is therefore not essential to the rationality of morality. It is not an external thing outside the interpretation of the Romantic genius. In what will seem like no surprise at all, Hegel says this kind of understanding of the meaning of morality leads to a contradiction: the beautiful soul is either a moralist or an ironist, according to Terry Pinkard (1996: 214).

Ironist #

Pinkard explains that

Nothing can count for such a “beautiful soul” unless they let it count for them, and this election of what counts for them is something entirely personal, something that they must decide on their own to do in term of their own basic convictions. This formation of the romantic authentic individual is thus logically led to taking an ironic attitude toward everything, including themselves. Nothing can count as absolute, nothing as definitive unless they, as an individual, elects to count it as such; but the romantic, authentic individual knows that in principle this cannot be a sufficient ground for convincing others of the meritoriousness of what they have elected to count as worthy of belief or action because the others must elect to count it for themselves on the basis of their own convictions. … Thus the romantic agent knows nothing can be final and definitive in a communal sense, and knowing that, they also know that nothing can be final and definitive for themselves, since whatever bonds they put on their thoughts and actions can also be loosened and thrown of by them. The only appropriate attitude therefore is irony, the belief that whatever one believes and takes seriously cannot be final and definitive even for oneself (Pinkard, 1996: 214-215).

Moralist #

The other side of this contradiction is for the beautiful soul to become a moralist:

The other possibility for the beautiful soul is to preserve their moral purity and stick to their convinctions, demanding that the world take the on their own terms or not at all. This beautiful soul cannot be ironic, for that would mean for them that they should abandon their own deepest beliefs. However, a community of such beautiful souls would be unlikely to be able to sustain itself since it would quickly deteriorate into pure confrontation among uncompromising “men and women of conscience” (Pinkard, 1996: 215).

The one stable locus of meaning for any kind of moral duty for the Romantic genius depends on the perspective of the person being asked to reflect on their conscience. Hegel rightly concludes that this leads to a completely contradictory account of morality. One can immediately see Hegel anticipating Nietzsche at this point. There is no stable or coherent conception of the moral law if all we depend on is the context of someone’s conscience.

Hegel, however, says that we can derive a stable conception of morality if we sublate (forgive me, Richard) the dialectic of the Romantic genius. If we transcend, but preserve these two unstable and contradictory polar opposite accounts of morality, we can achieve a satisfying account of ethical meaning.

The answer that Hegel gives to the dialectic of the Romantic genius is summarised in the last section of “Reason”:

SECTION 437: The distinction, then, of self-consciousness from the essential nature (Wesen) is completely transparent. Because of this the distinctions found within that nature itself are not accidental characteristics. On the contrary, because of the unity of the essence with self-consciousness (from which alone discordance, incongruity, might have come), they are articulated groups (Massen) of the unity permeated by its own life, unsundered spirits transparent to themselves, stainless forms and shapes of heaven, that preserve amidst their differences the untarnished innocence and concord of their essential nature.

Self-consciousness, again, stands likewise in a simple and clear relation to those different laws. They are, and nothing more — this is what constitutes the consciousness of its relation to them. Thus, Antigone takes them for the unwritten and unerring laws of the god —

“Not now, indeed, nor yesterday, but for aye
It lives, and no man knows what time it came.”

They are. If I ask for their origin, and confine them to the point whence they arose, that puts me beyond them, for it is I who am now the universal, while they are the conditioned and limited. If they are to get the sanction of my insight, I have already shaken their immovable nature, their inherent constancy, and regard them as something which is perhaps true, but possibly may also be not true, so far as I am concerned. True ethical sentiment consists just in holding fast and unshaken by what is right, and abstaining altogether from what would move or shake it or derive it.

The ethical reality or ethical substance of the community in which the Romantic genius finds themselves is the intrinsic meaning of their ethical context. Whether or not they agree with the prevailing social rules of their community, they nevertheless acknowledge that those are the rules of their context. Despite their truth_, _the prevailing ethical social order for the beautiful soul is their ethical reality.

This provides the answer for the intrinsic meaning for political texts. A political text’s intrinsic meaning is the crystalisation of the social context in which it was written. Whether or not we agree with the prevailing attitudes of the society from when a political text issued, the debates and the issues at stake at that time are the intrinsic meaning of a political text. The political landscape of the time that a text was written is the organic unity of meaning within a text.

This helps us “commit” a political text to something, it helps us rationally assess a political text without having to commit it to a static and singular meaning. The meaning within a political text that we are consulting is the ethical substance of its time. This allows us to give it friction against our own ethical reality, the meaning of our own social context.

Yes, the idea that a text as an intrinsic meaning is “simple minded bs” indeed.

References #

Hegel, G. W. F. _Phenomenology of Spirit, _translated by J. B. Baillie (1910) (__Forgive me for using this version, I wanted to copy and paste the text hahahah).

Ikaheimo, Heikki (2011) “Holism and Normative Essentialism in Hegel’s Social Ontology” in Recognition and Social Ontology.

Pinkard, Terry (1996) Hegel’s Phenomenology: The Sociality of Reason.

Destiny: Capitalism and MMOs

Wed, 15 Oct 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Bungie, the video game development studio responsible for the creation of the multi-million dollar grossing Halo franchise, recently released a new video game for sale. Bungie is one of the most wealthy and famous video game studios in the industry, so their new game understandably had a big budget. The game is projected cost to Bungie an estimated 500 million dollars over the next decade, and its development and launch was surrounded by a lot of media-confected hype. [1]2 By triple-A gaming standards it is critical failure, despite the fact that Bungie and its game’s publisher, Activision, have made a lot of money off of it.

The spectacle of the new video game Destiny should give us pause for thought. It presents itself as an archetype of the mass production of culture under capitalism. In this vein it is a perfect example of Georg Lukacs’ concepts of reification and the contemplative stance. In this essay I will discuss how capitalist cultural forms are reflected inside the famous new game.

Introduction #

I was inspired to write this essay after reading this article about Destiny in The New Yorker. It argues that the endless cycle of commodity acquisition in Destiny, and, more generally, all MMOs, reflects the commodification and consumerisation of life under capitalism. I broadly agree, but I think I can go further than merely critiquing the immediate effects of capitalism. In this essay I will argue that Destiny is a prime example of how capitalism distorts our perception, understanding, and interaction(s) of and with reality. I will also argue that there is a way out of the dilemma, a solution to the distorting and corrupting effects of mass produced art.

This essay will be divided into three parts.

The first part will outline how Destiny‘s media hype was confected through advertisement.
The second part will discuss how the video game’s execution and design were the result of the bureaucratisation and systematisation of art production; and
The third part will perform a discussion of Lukacs’ cultural metacritique of capitalism. This part will show how Destiny, and other MMORPGs, reflects the distorting culture of capitalism.

Georg Lukacs argued that capitalism distorts our interface with reality. Two concepts that he used to describe this distortion are reification and the contemplative stance. Both are ideas linked together.

Reification is a real phenomenon under capitalism. It comes about due to the way economic producers are separated from each other in the capitalist economic system. As production becomes more specialised, the only way agents end up interacting with each other is through exchange of commodities. The effect is that relationships and interactions between humans become obscured and distorted, and it begins to seem as if objects are the originators of interactions of relations between people. The idea comes from the beginning of the first volume of Marx’s _Capital. _[2]5 As Andrew Feenberg says, “reification means, literally, treating human relations as relations between things.” [3]6

There are two ways of digesting and interpreting the concept of reification. The first way condemns capitalism for being an alienating and inauthentic social system. One example I like to give of this is how the consumer culture around Apple Corporation works. It perceived that it is somehow ‘cooler’ to use Apple products than other platforms, and that there is a certain x-factor about Apple phones and computers that improve one’s quality of life. Apple consumer culture has gone so far as to create a cult of personality around Steve Jobs. This first way of interpreting reification is correct, but it doesn’t go deep enough.

A deeper and more incisive view of reification raises questions about how it comes about. Feenberg provides a useful elucidation:

The theory of reification explains how the cultural pattern of capitalism is derived from its economic system and, still more fundamentally, from the practices producing that system. [4]7

From this quote one should have detected a circularity in description, and this observation would have been correct. This is not an error of reasoning, because it reveals the true operation of capitalism. Capitalist cultural structures are bound up with the agency of the members of its society, and one does not, in a one-way fashion, ‘determine’ the other. This is known as “performativity”. In this way, the separation of the producers leads to reified subjective experiences of the world, which in turn impact on further material and objective economic organisation. As Marx says,

[Capitalism] must not be considered simply as being the reproduction of the physical existence of the individuals. Rather, it is a definite form of activity of these individuals, a definite form expressing their life, a definite mode of life on their part. [5]8

This means that reification is first and foremost practical. It is, as Feenberg notes, “an emergent property of social behaviour, a property that is irreducible to the traditional categories of subjectivity and objectivity because it constitutes them”. [6]9 This allows us to define Lukacs’ concept of the contemplative stance. The contemplative stance is the practical outcome of capitalism’s distorting and corrupting process of reification. Subjective agency under capitalism that has been reified assumes the contemplative stance.

But what does this mean? How does a reified subjectivity interact with the world? Lukacs provides us with an answer.

What is important is to recognise clearly that all human relations (viewed as the objects of social activity) assume increasingly the objective forms of the abstract elements of the conceptual systems of natural science and of the abstract substrata of the laws of nature. And also, the subject of this ‘action’ likewise assumes increasingly the attitude of the pure observer of these – artificially abstract – processes, the attitude of the experimenter. [7]10

The contemplative stance accepts (or rather, is identical with) the reified operation and appearance of capitalism at its face-value. It evaluates capitalism as an alien, artificial system that presents individuals with no choice but to accommodate themselves to its workings. In this way individuals are supposed to calculate a way to bring about favourable outcomes for themselves based on how the system works. Think: Adam Smith’s invisible hand. What is significant to note is that these calculations are based on formal, abstract, quantified models. Reified subjectivities divorce theory from practical activity and attempt to reproduce reality in thought without ever trying to impact or change that reality. The contemplative stance is so called because the subjectivity in which it manifests itself is critically passive and accommodating.

Manufacturing Hype: Marketing and the Contemplative Stance #

One of the stunning things about Destiny was that it was subject to absolutely no pre-release review. One of the arguments made by Bungie and Activision on this point were that the game’s permanent need for mass human participation through the internet would have made it impossible for video game journalists to fully review the game without the game’s servers being live and populated. This is a very clever argument, but and it attempts to white-wash the truth about the video game Destiny: that it is a commodity. That Bungie and Activision stand to make or lose a lot of money if their commodity isn’t consumed correctly.

Joseph Jackmovich from Playstation Lifestyle reveals how cynically the game was marketed, with review copies of Destiny only being provided to game publications _after _launch:

Destiny’s release sent a clear message to publications: “You’re not needed anymore.” You can be sure that PR departments in large companies across the world are discussing the state of game reviews in the wake of Destiny’s release and none of it bodes well for the people who write about games.

Why were game publications jilted? The answer again lies with the contemplative stance:

Even with the unstated pressure of badmouthing a title you’ve been given by a big company, advertising still comes across as a safer investment — though an initially more expensive one.

It is indeed bizarre that a work of art should be subject to quantification and calculation: an ‘investment’, a piece of divisible property. But this is not the first time that it has happened. The reason why this has happened and its effect will be discussed in the next part. For the time being it is enough to notice that Bungie and Activision made a scientific-like calculation about what would return them the _maximum amount of profit _on their game. At some other point they probably considered that making a piece of art would be worthwhile, but that doesn’t factor into how to sell it. Destiny‘s form (an exchangeable commodity) and the content (its use, its existence as art) get wrenched apart in this artistic ecology (simply: its ‘production’ and its ‘consumption’). Perhaps this is why so many journalists pose the stupid rhetorical question, ‘what is Destiny?’ When the actual quality of a commodity becomes lost in haze of its formalisation and abstraction through marketing, one is probably very much entitled to ask, ‘what actually is this video game?’

The reader might at first be a little apprehensive and may ask, ‘but surely this is about the openness, accuracy and price of information, there should be some sort of policeman who steps in and prevents big companies from lying and twisting the truth’. With respect, I must say this misses the point. The point is that the whole business of capitalism affects the way reality’s very fabric is constituted. The Destiny‘s mass production, and the cultural process from which it springs, is constitutive of, as Marx said above, the mode of life of our society. This means that the way in which art is mass produced (like Destiny) is objective for us right now. Our mode of life is, as Lukacs said above, a form of objectivity. This means that there is no perfect position from which to assail the falseness of this current form of objectivity. It can only be broken down and transformed from within.

Artist as Bureaucrat: The ‘Fun Factory’ #

Destiny is a very peculiar piece of art. Its creation may or may not be dependent on the exclusive genius of a person, or a group of people, but the important thing about it is that it has been produced exclusively for profit. One thing that always happens when art comes to be mass produced is that its ‘production’ (i) becomes divided into many different specialisations; (ii) Articles that describe and explain the various in-game commodities have already started appearing. All of Destiny‘s in-game commodities are, as one would expect in a game that mimics the defining cultural features of capitalism, commensurable in either experience points, the game’s universal currency, or some other commodity. This article, from VG 24/7, for instance, explains what ‘Consumables’ are.

Other articles (also from VG 24/7) explain the various quantified attributes that are attached the player’s avatars.

Still further, some articles (surprisingly, still from VG 24/7) outline guides about how to increase your character’s key quantified attribute, its level:

Level is everything in Destiny. If it’s too low you’re going to be locked out of certain events and instances, and even if you could access them you’d get blasted to smithereens for being the weakling you are.

(It is telling to see how VG 24/7 swims with the tide of sycophantic journalism on Destiny, especially after they released a fairly incisive critique of such journalism here. It proves how cynical and money-grubbing professional video game journalism is.)

As Arthur Gies from Polygon notes,

… once you’ve fought a faction once, there’s not really any surprises to speak of. Fights don’t unfold differently over the course of each planet once every unit type is involved. Some of them just take longer.

“Longer” would be polite here, by the way. Destiny’s combat most resembles the MMO genre with its bosses, who are, if you’ll pardon the cliche, bullet sponges that take entirely too long to kill.

Although Gies then goes on to argue that Destiny is atypical of MMOs because shooting and fighting seems to be the only way one can interact with the environment [2]17 (this is corroborated by Vince Ingenito from IGN [3]19), this doesn’t detract from the point that MMOs, and Destiny in particular, operate by constructing a reified virtual reality.

Phil Kollar, the second author of the same Polygon article mentioned above …

Bungie expects players to repeat these few pieces of [end-game] content over and over for the mere chance at a worthwhile upgrade.

I recognize that plenty of games build successful, long-lasting communities out of end-game repetition — including lots of games I love. But they tend toward less stinginess with loot and generally have a lot more content at launch to pull from.

Endnotes #

1 Leo Sun, Fool.com, “Back in February, Activision Blizzard CEO Bobby Kotick boldly claimed that Destiny would be the ‘best selling new video game IP in history.’” (http://www.fool.com/investing/general/2014/09/19/activisions-destiny-and-the-business-of-video-game.aspx)

2 Marx, Capital, vol 1, ch 1, s 4, “A commodity is therefore a mysterious thing, simply because in it the social character of men’s labour appears to them as an objective character stamped upon the product of that labour; because the relation of the producers to the sum total of their own labour is presented to them as a social relation, existing not between themselves, but between the products of their labour. This is the reason why the products of labour become commodities, social things whose qualities are at the same time perceptible and imperceptible by the senses.”

3 Andrew Feenberg, The Philosophy of Praxis (2014) 62 (http://www.versobooks.com/books/1638-the-philosophy-of-praxis).

4 Ibid, 67.

5 Marx and Engels, The German Ideology, Part 1, Section A, “First Premises of Materialist Method” (https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1845/german-ideology/ch01a.htm#a2).

6 Feenberg, above n 3, 66.

7 Georg Lukacs, History and Class Consciousness (trans. Rodney Livingstone, 1971, 1967), “The Antinomies of Bourgeois Thought”, 131 (https://www.marxists.org/archive/lukacs/works/history/lukacs1.htm).

2 “Destiny isn’t like other MMOs, because shooting is all it does. There are no character relationships to explore, no crafting to speak of. There’s no monuments to build or spaces to make your mark on. In fact, there’s not even much variety to speak of — each environment in the game feels small, and playing just through the campaign missions, you’ll see the same parts of them multiple times. You’ll spend literal hours retreading the same ground, shooting the same mobs.” (http://www.polygon.com/2014/9/12/6138497/destiny-review-no-fate)

3 “That says a lot considering that fighting is, disappointingly, the only way you can meaningfully interact with the beautiful world around you.” (http://au.ign.com/articles/2014/09/03/destiny-review)

Cel-Shaded Graphics: Hardware and Art

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 10:58:28 +0000

It should be pretty uncontroversial to say that software and hardware have something to do with one-another. This idea is very strange, however, given just how opposite the individual natures of software and hardware are. Computer hardware is the physical, tangible component of computer science: if you took an electron microscope and applied it to a computer, you would be able to see the doped silicon lattices in its semiconductors. Computer software, however, in its ideal form, is conceptual. Software is something that is not necessarily physical. Software possesses the ideas and ‘thoughts’ contained in its programming, and this is something that can’t be manifested physically. If we tried to look at software in its physical form–say, on a hard-drive or on an EEPROM–all we would be able to see or sense is the patterns in which a program’s atoms and electromagnetic charges have been arranged.

The Hogfather: Your Ideal Swine #

The character Death in a Terry Pratchett work, Hogfather, puts the dilemma rather well. Obviously here Death is talking about morals, but the argument is analogous to concepts or ideas:

…then take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder and sieve it through the finest sieve and then show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy.

Admittedly, it’s pretty well understood that software is written for hardware–computer instructions are specifically written for physical machines to interpret and process. And, it is in fact true that the line between software and hardware to be somewhat blurry; take, for instance, firmware. Firmware exhibits the features of both software and hardware by being (a) machine-interpretable instructions, but (b) static and physically manifested. But, if software was hardware, how have we managed to construct complex and flashy edifices like _Modern Warfare 3 _on top of incomprehensible patterns of transistors? How can we copy and mimic the world so convincingly if we were not, at any point, permitted to employ the use of ideas, thoughts, morals &c? In philosophical terms, we have a real dilemma here: are pieces of software just physical parts of the universe, like hardware, or are they something more? Something… metaphysical?

The direction in which I’m now heading obviously seems perilously similar to the mind-body dualism dilemma that has been so numerously and irritatingly rehashed in philosophical writing, so it should appear welcome to the reader when I say this is not what I’m doing to discuss, but that I would like to take a look at what the alleged divide between software and hardware means to video games as an art-form.

The supposed software/hardware dualism mentioned above has everything and anything to do with video games. Video games feature both hardware and software in their constitution, making them an incredibly complex beast to understand when it comes to dealing with them aesthetically. Why? Take video game graphics/visuals as an example. Kotaku recently ran two articles about the graphical prowess of the next generation of PlayStation and Xbox consoles (Graphics Don’t Make Good Characters and Remember They Have More to Offer Than Just Graphics). Both of these articles make arguments to assert that something other than video game console processing power (if not complex and fantastic visuals, which is probably more on the mark) is also needed in order to make a good video game. This other element, character development, story-telling, plot structure/substance, is not as dependent as game visuals on hardware architecture–it is something that is idealistic; semantically speaking, this doesn’t mean the pejorative term of not being pragmatic, but something that is not physically tangible. A character or a story is an idea, a kind of ghost that inhabits the physical shell of an actor or a 3D hardware-rendered model.

Thus far one could say that we seem to have identified another famous dialectic here–albeit one that is potentially illusory, as physicalists (proponents of the ‘software-is-hardware’ philosophy, as I’ll call it) are wont to interject: hardware determined visuals versus almost entirely software-inhabiting story and character development. This kind of opposition seems to have existed since time immemorial–one can easily think of the way paperback novels transformed the way books were read. The same thing must go for video games in the league of Battlefield 3. The kind of artistic malaise in games that critics like Yahtzee on The Escapist identify is evidently not something new, and will probably never cease.

Indeed this fantastic article on the Gameological Society‘s website performs an assessment of the likely future of the mainstream video game industry within a similar framework to that being pursued here. Speaking in light of the mysterious launch of Sony’s PlayStation 4, the critical component of the article comes right at the end:

Creativity thrives under limitations. People who love games understand this implicitly, since the best players find the most creative ways to succeed within the confines of the rules. The Great Train Robbery is a masterpiece not in spite of its limitations but because of them. So if David Cage doesn’t think he can produce an emotional work of art with a PlayStation 3 and an eight-figure budget, maybe he shouldn’t be in the art-making business.

Expanding the technological capabilities of our game machines is not inherently bad, but treating new tech as a magic bullet is a self-destructive delusion (if a familiar one). The reason that so many games suck is not because the technology is too modest. The reason that so many games suck is because so many games suck. Making art is hard. No microchip changes that.

The really important thing about this quote (and the whole article, really) is not that it reinforces the idea developed above that artistic ideas are independent of their physical medium. The important thing mentioned in the quote is that it brings up the idea that artistic ideas can be constrained by their physical medium. It asserts that the medium through which art forms its expression sets ‘rules’ that artists need to find creative ways in which to work. Here we have a slightly more nuanced interpretation of the software-idealism position, which mixes in a little bit of physicalism: hardware determines the boundaries of software’s concepts/ideas/thoughts/substance. One could almost call this ‘soft software determinism’ because a more radical version can immediately be imagined: hardware outright determines the substance of software. Against software determinism you obviously have software indeterminism (or free-will &c) which asserts that hardware and software aren’t causally related.

Enter Jet Set Radio #

It’s important to note that the software determinism position is related to the software physicalism question because the software-as-hardware (physicalist) position directly bears on how software and hardware are causally related. If software is just hardware, its realistic-seeming appearance is just a clever arrangement of atoms and magnetic charges. This will become important later on.

In any case, consider Jet Set Radio on the Sega Dreamcast. Its artistic direction was so influential that it inspired a virtual (in the potential and not epistemological sense) artistic movement in video games. JSR legitimised the use of cel-shaded graphics at a time when realism was a dominant driving force in the artistic value system of the video game industry. Realism obviously still remains an important way of going about and making games today, but if it wasn’t for games like JSR (or Windwaker–I wonder if Nintendo saw _JSR _and decided to copy its visual style?), we’d be left with an overwhelming corpus of mainstream games trying to copy the visual appearance and mechanics of the real world.

Humouring our determinism discussion, we can arguably put JSR‘s cel-shaded graphics down to the limitations of the Dreamcast. See this useful comparison of the raw processing power of the Dreamcast to the Nintendo GameCube and the original Microsoft Xbox. I find it so illuminating that I regularly go back and re-read it to make sure I haven’t missed anything that it might have said. The particularly interesting point it raises about the very modest increase in RAM and, to a lesser extent, CPU processing power relative to the other hardware features of the Dreamcast in comparison to the GC and Xbox is thought-provoking. The Dreamcast‘s unique Z-buffering technology is also interesting.

Cel-shading is most importantly related to the lighting in a 3D-rendered game. It replaces what would otherwise be gradients of light in shadows on models with a larger incidence of solid colours. One can easily connect this to the way in which a game engine would deal with textures (something the Dreamcast was, on paper, noticeably weaker at handling than the other two consoles), and what you have is, like John Teti said in his Gameological Society article, a creative way to succeed within the limitations of Sega’s (admittedly cool) console. Or, more intriguingly, you have the hardware design of the Dreamcast subtly dictating to Smilebit how they should make their game.

What about Gauroud shading on the N64? It was a solution to the incredible challenge posed by the cripplingly small texture cache on the platform. The N64 had its fair share of games with realistic graphics, but the fact that it struggled with complex textures meant that programmer’s favoured method of dealing with this–shading–lead to better performance with cartoon-ish visuals that dealt with simple colours.

More broadly, consider the transition from 2D to 3D graphics. Games like Tomb Raider were unthinkable in the late 80s–the hardware processing power simply didn’t exist to render such complex environments. Games are more or less forced to resort to 2D graphics when being based on more limited hardware. The kinds of experiences 2D graphics can deliver can be brilliant substantively/qualitatively, but they must be far more limited formally than those based in three dimensions: Zelda-esque RPGs, platformers, 2D RTS games. Indeed, search and you will find that 2D platformers by far outnumbered games published in any other genre (much like first-person shooters today).

Zizek and The Matrix #

Slavoj Zizek’s _Parallax View _gives us a good schema to not only deal with the ideal-software/physical-software dialectic, but also that of the determined-software/undetermined-software simultaneously.

In an extended passage in which Zizek discusses the operation of ideology in today political environment, he performs an analysis of The Matrix series. Following his Lacanianism, he works out that the function of the matrix is based on a kind of perversion. The perversion on which the matrix is founded is two-fold:

Perceivable human reality is reduced to a virtual domain whose rules can be suspended. It’s theoretically possible for someone to do or have anything in the matrix.
The concealed truth of this apparent freedom is that humanity is actually the perfect kind of slave. Ultimately passive and instrumentalised, humans are farmed for their ability to generate electrical energy.

This dialectic corresponds to, and informs that of the ideal/physical and determined/undetermined ones. Humans are not only divided into ideal and physical components in the matrix, but they are also controlled and possessed by it, in exactly the same way that a piece of game software is with its corresponding hardware platform.

The perfect conception of software as an idealistic form is that which is totally independent and undetermined by its hardware base, free of any kind of limitation or constraint. The best kind of illusion imaginable, any kind of creative desire could be pursued with this form of software: characters of infinite depth, plots infinitely complex and intriguing. The complete opposite of this would be software as a ‘slave’ to a dominant and ‘parasitic’ hardware base. Instead of being a perfect dream, software would really just be a host from which for hardware to ‘feed’. This image isn’t meant to be literal, it means that hardware is just exploiting software in an attempt to ensure its survival. A good example of this would be the way iPhones are propagated by Farmville, and other kinds of ‘casual’ games (the marriage is perfect, isn’t it? A device that is always with you, always requiring your attention). Some more examples are the way operating system update schedules work, always requiring you to keep your device ‘up-to-date’, and the way console launch titles work–to make their console seem appealing.

The way The Matrix solves this dilemma (ultimate freedom/ultimate slave) is by giving Neo the ability to practice the powers he has in the matrix outside the matrix. Zizek quite rightly regards this method of synthesising The Matrix‘s virtual and real worlds as insufficient–much like revealing at the end of a detective novel that the murderer has incomprehensible magical powers. It merely conflates the original premises of the dilemma by trying to confer upon human-kind, in its slave-form, the virtual freedom it is able to possess in the matrix.

Zizek’s preferred solution to The Matrix dialectic puts us on the right track to conceiving a coherent relationship between games and their platforms: why didn’t humans try to sabotage the matrix by refusing to secrete any more energy into it? The important thing about this possible solution is that it is negative: it destroys both humanity’s slavery by the evil machines, and its ultimate freedom in the matrix. What is left is just good old, really-existing humanity–which is in fact a very complex way of arriving at the same conclusion as John Teti: software is partly constrained and determined by the limitations of its hardware, and is in reality physical.

But by performing all of this work, while we rather uninterestingly return to the position that software does have an existence that partly transcends its physical determination (the form that this transcendence takes isn’t of immediate interest), we learn that software needs that obstacle. The idea isn’t the mundane truism that software needs hardware in order to run, but that hardware presents a game designer/developer/programmer with a mould that needs to be broken out of. A good example to demonstrate this point is the amount of first-person open-world games that proliferate our present gaming culture. We’ve reached a point in our gaming hardware development that allows us to render huge worlds, but they’re not necessarily fun or interesting–it’s basically ‘filler’. As Teti points out, Jonathan Blow’s upcoming game The Witness has attempted to make its game world as compact and as carefully constructed as possible. Like Teti, I regard this as good design, and good art. Blow’s piece is evidence of getting over the obstacle of taking orders from one’s hardware base.

Think about some games you know that did their best to transcend their hardware limitations. A few that I can think of are Exhumed for the Saturn, Super Mario 64 (compare with the horribly linear Crash Bandicoot series which _stole _SM__64‘s hub-world concept–NB that SM64 was a launch title!), id software’s Doom and Quake, and the first two Pokemon generations.

Lost Profits Followed; or, the Phenomenology of the Road

Fri, 23 Dec 2011 14:52:23 +0000

figured i'd just put this here, not sure i'll really return to it

Lost Profits Followed; or, the Phenomenology of the Road.

Chapter One: The Phenomenology of the Road

Dear Trace,

Although I’m pretty sure you found the note I left, you shouldn’t’ve come after me, and for that matter, come after me so quickly. Then again anything I’ve ever recommended to anyone has been so lathered with selfish negligence, and your entire life has been one so constituted by upright duty that there was no chance you wouldn’t try to find me. For some reason I thought you’d ring the police, and that they would show up at where-ever I was staying, handcuff me in the strobing blue and red lights of their car’s alarm and deliver me to a ninth circle of never-ending ironic punishments.

To this day I still don’t know how you brought all those people out of the woodwork to moralise me back to the cradle of my hypocrisy and decrepitude, and still, to this very moment the reason why their terrified and often explosively distraught pleas over the phone all those months never succeeded in having me return is because I have radically and fundamentally changed as a person. I suppose the most apparent evidence of this is that I’m now able to write all this down coherently; I look back on the memories I have of my writing, much like entirety of the life I used lead, with utter humiliation.

But that’s not enough proof that I’ve changed (I suppose in many ways I haven’t changed, although I’m still deliberating, which is self-reflection, which probably is evidence I’ve changed), which is why I’m writing you. The first reason why I disappeared was that I wasn’t sure what had happened to me. In fact that was the same reason why all four of us brothers left everyone; we all agreed to leave, some of us indefinitely, some only for a time, obviously. After what happened all four of us felt as if we’d accrued superpowers, and I guess we really did. One moment didn’t possess any kind of moral engine, totally lacked any semblance of a super-ego, and the next we became fully-fledged moral agents. Of course none of us have become grand philosopher-kings or realised we have a sudden calling to become priests, we’ve just become proper people now. This really should emphasise what monsters we were, how we were both simultaneously capable of destructive vengeance and of pettiness for which we were incapable of rousing any empathy in anyone. We all left because we weren’t sure whether what we were experience was real and permanent, or real and temporary or some illusion capable of penetration. I am convinced I am really permanently changed, and this is also why I am writing this letter to you.

The second reason I never returned for so long is because I wasn’t sure of the effect of this change. None of us knew what the extent of the consequence of our newly-developed humanity was, and we weren’t prepared to return ‘home’ to our ‘lives’ without a more complete understanding of our new-found powers, we were definitely not willing to discover that we were still deficient in critical ways having once returned, only to find that we were really just back again to our old selves, draining the life out of all of those around us.

I could continue to analyse the reasons why I did what I did, but I think doing so would only push you further away, like I had been doing all those years. I do not want this anymore, if I ever have. I want you back Tracy; I want to draw you in. I suppose this is what love is meant to do. Love is meant to be like perpetual motion, forever lasting and always growing, at the same time powerfully binding but the most incredible fountain of boundless freedom. I hope for my dear life that this is not too little too late. I hope I can both account for and irreversibly repair the pain I have inflicted on you and the kids, and I long to being trying. I wonder endlessly whether this promise is enough to make you want me back, but perhaps the only way is to tell you what happened, to try and seat you in my position in the unfolding of this transformative cataclysm. Let me tell you about the very moment I realised I cared about something—anything—other than myself.

I was being driven across the country in a big car—an old panel-van like a Tarago—my eyes rolling around in the searing light pouring in onto my face through a big lopsided window. As the trip went on I slid further and further down into my seat, it not taking long for the landscape to disappear, the mysterious alchemy that the road practices at freeway speeds, the trade of concrete for scrub one sees out of car windows at the beginning of trips into the bush. From then on the sky hovered in my dozing vision for some hours as half my face baked under the sun. The infernal jewel seemed to dance around the clouds, and as my ear and neck grew redder and redder, those shapes in the sky grew dark on an exposed, swollen retina of mine, the sky transforming into a dazzling white canvas, inhabited by sinister black objects that mixed with my other view of the car door latch.

I may or may not have been asleep by then, but I can declare with certainty that at that point all my personal beliefs about anything and everything unified and precipitated out of the swirling bourgeois flux in which they had existed, until that moment, my whole life. At that exact moment in time I realised that everything anyone ever needs to know in order to live a good life comes from contemplating what it is to be on the Road. Hopefully this metaphor doesn’t appear ridiculous. I sometimes rub my face in shame at the idiocy of the simplicity of the idea, but its effect on me is inescapable.

The mighty sun that bathed me in light in the back of that old moving bucket showed me the image of the paths of men, the beaten track of human-kind through the wilderness of meaninglessness. This is what it said:

‘Consider the idea of the Road. Roads are everywhere. Everything is reducible to the idea of a Road.

‘A Road is obviously a defined or recognised path on which things change from being one thing to another. In this manner Roads can be benign, serving to transform something for the sole purpose of achieving a more radical transformation along another road, or of course they may be the latter—utterly transformative, capable of rendering something unrecognisable from that of its original constitution.

‘Therefore a Road may indeed be a road or a street, a construction used to transform the location things from one place to another, or a method of doing something, or a series of events that operate to possess a defined beginning and end. A Road may of course exist of many Roads of lesser transformative effect.

‘There is, however, one fundamental issue with this idea. In order to transcend being subject to the limitations of being subject to a Road one must understand this key principle, and that is that there exists a dualism that, when properly illuminated to the enlightened mind, renders all attempts to reduce the world into the Road insufficient to explain the nature of everything.

‘This dualism is that the thing that moves from one end of the Road to the other exists in exclusive separation from that Road. By adhering to the idea of the Road, one denies that thing the possibility of being its own Road.’

The circularity of this reasoning was both beautiful and absurd. Somehow, in order to escape the clutches of my own meaningless existence, I had to, however irrationally; reject the existence of the effects of the outside world on myself. As I thought about this, I immediately and incontrovertibly believed that I had to give up the wanton disregard for others that had so characterised my life hitherto, and free myself from the tyranny of the hedonism.

I was—and am—my own Road. I immediately recognised that I was not only an indivisible being charged with the responsibility of acting to bring about good, but that I belonged to the plight of everyone else, by continuing to harm others (however ludicrously pious this may sound) I only continued to harm myself.

By the time this bizarre and incredible premonition was over the sun’s rays had well and truly waned, and it was fast sinking into the horizon. Those words that the burning mass of gas so far away had so clearly (and of course impossibly) transmitted into my mind had finished enunciating themselves, and the whole experience was so exhausting that my one-eye-open-dazing became a deep, day long sleep. I was again visited by the circling black sun as I dreamed, but it didn’t speak. Instead it proceeded to pour through the contents of my mind, assessing my memories in a molesting Dickensian fashion, unrelentingly showing me the errors of my ways, translating the protests that I had ignored or misinterpreted of the people that I had again and again morally abused.

When I awoke the big, room-like car in which I was travelling was still moving and one of my brothers had swapped with the other for the driver’s seat. It had been my turn to drive but they couldn’t wake me—we were on the way to a hospital because they were worried I’d slipped into some sort of coma. When they told me this I began to suspect they’d also been in communication with the sun. This wasn’t the case, but, even though they hadn’t taken part in such an out-of-body experience, it definitely was.

The[B1] concern on their faces was boundlessly confounding. I felt as if I had at once gained three great old friends. They said it was lucky we’d recently entered a city because they wouldn’t have known what to do if we had still been stranded in the desert, I wasn’t able to be fed or given water, and I had without a doubt been very badly sunburnt. They took me directly to a[B2] hospital in the city, carrying me into its emergency waiting room. By that time I was again unconscious, but you should’ve seen the mottled brown concrete entrance, and the brown stains lingering on the automatic glass doors from the bore-water used by the reticulation just outside.

The rest of the hospital was much the same; I managed to spend a bit of time walking around here and there once I’d recovered. Everything was some weird shade of brown, and on some floors the linoleum would peel in fantastic patterns that I would take time tracing in an attempt to discover the cause of the flooring’s premature deterioration. After spending about half a week there I really came to enjoy the colour brown. My brown saline drip must’ve been injecting the very colour right into the fibres of my circulation.

Most of the action that happened at the hospital happened on the first day: I was carted into some quiet corner of the castle thanks to Mick’s real gift for sweet-talking, and I must’ve been connected to thirty drips of saline by the time I came to because my arms felt as if they’d been butchered. You know me though; those things’ve never worried me. The nurse who had attended to me (and my arms) was gangly and scabby-kneed but genuinely one of the most pleasant people I’ve ever met. She lived where-ever the window next to the nurse’s station happened to point, which was more frequently than not the brown, smudged view of the twinkling greeny-brown river some kilometres away. Every now and then you’d hear a sigh come out of her before the supercomputer-rivalling panel of panic buttons and brown extension phone lights would bleat and flash into life, her knobbly arms reaching for some receivers as she bolted to whichever rooms she could reach without having the cords stretch too far.

Late on the first day a doctor about our age (Should I say ‘our’ age? I should probably not push it, and instead say ‘my’ age)—my age—came into the room which I had been inhabiting in an incredulous un-brown manner. It was the nurse’s job to come in too, and she did.

‘He’s been having seizures,’ she volunteered, and this was ignored by the doctor who plunged his balding head into the clipboard that contained all the information that the medical staff had managed to observe about me.

‘It appears you have been having seizures!’

I traded faces with the nurse and we agreed neither of us would do any good against the doctor, so she left. The doctor spent some time pouring over the creamy-brown leaves of the clipboard before grunting,

‘You’ve been feeling alright?’

‘Dunno, been asleep most of the time.’

The doctor’s demeanour appeared to change, upon seemingly hearing this, and he produced a small torch, and examined my eyes, and then he suggested I should have my brain examined with a machine. When they came back a couple of hours later Kosciuszko said he didn’t mind paying for it and almost exactly at this utterance I found myself being pushed towards the ward that contained the radiology department. I left the poor nurse behind in front of her trap of brown phones and buzzers; she looked up with a sort of chagrin to see me go.

Leaving the three in some politely pilfered chairs in my room, I steadily began to decipher the nurse’s embarrassment as I was being transported to the other side of the hospital. I was pushed by faceless sergeants through flapping ceiling-tall doors, past receptions, past faces of brown, brown glass. I was being kept in block B (B for Brown), radiology being in the next, I had to be pushed outside. Outside was like a circus; it was strange to see anything that wasn’t brown.

The real shock though, was the block in which radiology was housed. Block D shone white, white. Everyone in the parlour grinned and gleamed, somehow constantly facing everyone in the building face-on where-ever they were, beaming! People in block D went by the name of ‘technician’ and not nurse, and there seemed to be this air of excitement hanging over all the desks, where I’m fairly sure there also hung cash registers. Electrical cables ran right overhead to where we were going, power metres passing thick and fast. As I entered the scanning machine room, I was introduced to the technicians who would conduct the brain scan. It was Melbourne Cup Day and they were dressed up in suits and dresses, great big wide ties and gravity-defying fascinators:

‘We didn’t expect to come in, but since we were on our way we thought we’d drop in! We’re told this is a pretty routine measure in any case, so it should be over quickly, which is just as well!’

They watched the Cup on a television set behind some dark panes of glass as they performed the brain scan, and I can still remember the winner because the TV channelled the footage’s radio waves of the race into their operating console, through the machine and into my brain. I’m still surprised that when the (rather annoyed) party-goers had left, and I was being shown the negatives of my brain, that there weren’t horses and jockeys sprawled out all over my cerebellum.

There was, and is, nothing wrong with me, the scans turned out fine—the hospital is important for another reason. Somewhat similar to this experience, but more critical to the path which all four of us brothers took to getting here today, was that of Paul’s grandmother. I’m still not sure why Paul had a different grandmother to the other three of us, and why she was so young—I remember your suggestion that we might’ve had a different father to Paul, and I think you’re probably right. There’s no way of telling though, not with our parents anyway.

As you know, Paul’s grandmother died of cancer, and although I regret never finding out what kind of cancer, I suppose that shows you just how much I cared at the time. I remember the path from the car to her room perfectly, because what she did to me still remains pressed in my mind. The thing that dominates my memory of that single time I visited her while she was in hospital, besides the fact the hospital was built into a hill, is that the place was literally swathed in carpet. Cleaners would chase you around with vacuums to stop the staff from developing allergic attacks from what you brought in on your feet and all the halls and walkways were dead silent from their obvious acoustic properties—so the slow, leg-after-leg trip I still undertake in my mind over and over was, and is, both jarringly loud and chillingly silent. I remember Kosciuszko nearly tore Paul’s ma’s ward a new skylight when a patient coughed in an adjacent room as we were exiting the lifts—the videotape-like recall I have of this procession still leaves me unprepared for this happening.

To tell you the truth, what Paul’s ma did to me wasn’t so much something she, as an exclusive, positive act, did to me, but what she did to Paul. Paul’s ma has always irked me, mind. To me, and for some reason, nobody else, there’s always been this air of pretension and hidden meaning hanging around Paul’s ma. This last meeting I had with her topped all of that suspicion off, you could say. Paul got teary as her condition was inevitably brought up for the umpteenth time between them, after we’d spent a bit of time talking about nothing in particular. As that happened, the two seemed to look into each other’s eyes, and Paul’s ma said to Paul, ‘I love you darling’.

At first the moment seemed nothing but necessary, given the circumstances, but I kept watching on. From how I feel about it now, I feel like I was looking on deeper, delving and discovering more into this woman who I had known just as little as I had known my parents. Much like the slow heaviness of the memory I have of walking into her room, time seemed to take a break for a short while as I started to observe her fading grey irises. It then occurred to me that I, or perhaps Paul, more accurately, was being lied to. It was a strange feeling to behold because all I could remember of Paul, the youngest of all of us, and his ma’s relationship over the decades was that of an intensely happy and joyous union between those two, despite my abject contempt for and uncomfortableness with the woman. The observation was almost indisputable—the woman didn’t love Paul at all. Behind her I seemed to imagine wads of cash and an army of lawyers rubbing their hands and fiddling with nervous excitement with their black briefcases. The sulphurous fires of hell seemed to have frozen over in her silvery irises; indeed her aluminium hospital bed suddenly seemed to resemble a propane gas jet.

What I saw struck me because I normally didn’t give a rat’s arse about what it meant to say to someone, ‘I love you’. I normally used the phrase to cap off what I thought had been a couple of days that had put me in somewhat less bad favour with you. Funnily enough, this stretch of time was usually time [B3] we’d spent away from each other.

This woman’s evil eyes transfixed me. Everything was in the eyes and there was, for the mere seconds I lay charged under their power, nothing outside. Nothing else mattered. All universal truth proceeded therefrom, and anything else I had an opportunity to regard collapsed into axioms that I would have derived from the grey-irised eyes of Paul’s insipid grandmother. The lies spewed forth without relent in waves, and after each one passed my mind gasped for some kind of virtuous air, only to be fed more filthy, salty, disabling lies. I resolved to look away, only to set sail into a kind of meaningless dead-wind—I simply had to keep looking in. I saw the cradle of her consciousness within, all her motives and deepest horrid self-kept secrets, the things she took from others, hearts she broke, social machinations she calculated and forced into collision. All the lives she wrecked, but also all the accidental happiness she caused, and regarding that, I too saw the bitter annoyance and later ignorance with which she came to consider those unintended anomalies. I never realised that Paul’s ma was such a scaly dragon.

Poor Paul! Poor old Paul. He would never see this truth, the truth that both she and I knew. I can only (somewhat stupidly) confess that I never discovered how she and Paul were related, but I can tell you with complete certainty that the great matriarch of Paul’s identity did not love him one iota. Little baby Paul, the youngest of all of us, did not have his greatest, most complex love returned. This knowledge almost mocked me. The now slowly reanimating, blurry grey hoola-hoops of fraud danced a merry jig at me over her caster-wheeled breakfast tray, her paper bucket of melted ice-cream curdling under the heat of the propane gas, Satan himself playing craps with the molecules of gelatine in her cup of lime jelly. I never believed Satan existed until that moment, but there he was, undergoing Brownian motion like the rest of the room, serpent-tail flicking without a care in the world. I remember he looked up and studied the fluorescence of the television set above our heads ever so slowly rescanning.

When the passage of time was finally released to its normal pace I was left reeling. The proceeding conversation we had about an ocean-liner that had recently moored itself in Fremantle flew right over my head because I was studying the taste of my own saliva in my mouth through my own sheer insanity. The woman’s skin—Jolene’s skin, I’m sorry—seemed to form a translucent film over the inner workings of her face (to be fair, by that stage it probably did, chemotherapy really does wreak a terrible havoc on a cancer patient’s body), and I thought I could see, retransmitted, the terrible messages I had just received from her dark, mirror-like irises. If we had at some stage addressed each other then, as she sat up in bed, her pupils would have flickered creamy light at me from the vertical blinds just nearby, the blinds themselves slicing the room into ribbons of (startlingly) orange-brown.

I never wanted to see Jolene ever again, and I most surely didn’t, except for the time that I saw her at her viewing, but that’s not really seeing someone, is it. You were right not to come; Paul wailed and moaned, it was terrible. Mick, Kosciuszko and I sat there in the pews looking sideways at each other awkwardly as he was consoled by some of his work colleagues. I guess it never occurred to me that I should have at least patted him on the back.

All this hallucination was caused by something—not anything wrong with me, although you could probably see how all the drinking I did might’ve had something to do with it—even though Jolene came well, well before ‘what happened’, that ‘transformative cataclysm’ that all four of us brothers underwent was invariably the cause.

My theory on the Jolene incident is that the change I underwent altered my memory of the visit, and this is the only conclusion one can really reach in order to conclude that what I saw—or what I remember—forms part of the overall process, the overall ‘Road’, you might say. Jolene is the very earliest out-of-body experience I can detect over this three-year fiasco, the very end of it all being the brain-scan I had somewhat recently. It seems the overall adventure begins and ends with a hospital. Somewhat unexciting, really. You might find this whole manifesto entirely unfulfilling. I suppose, at the height of my most indefatigable pessimistic moments, this is the reaction I expect you to have to the explanation I have for my absence, and to even the slightest part of the forgiveness for which I entreat you. Well there’s no use dwelling, is there! I have absolutely no idea how you’ll react to this, so I better get on with it.

I never fully explained to you the reason why I lost my job, did I? It is probably also the most foggy mystery to you how it came to pass that it wasn’t just myself, but that my three other brothers along with me, came to be employees of the Yokine Polka-appreciation Society. I remember the look on your face when you were told by the Society’s secretary over the phone that Sunday. If I hadn’t been asleep I would’ve scooped the phone up before you’d taken a slight inwards-breath to get up from the newspaper. I waddled in groggy-eyed to hear your cheerful good-bye, and to really get it. Of course I took all the disbelief the way I usually did:

‘I can’t believe you lost your job and didn’t tell me!’

‘That’s right! Yeah that’s right! Yeah, yeah that’s right! I can’t do anything right can I? I can’t do anything properly!’

‘How did you lose your job!’

‘…can’t do anything right at all!’

‘Tell me how you lost your job.’

‘Why? So you can just have it against me like everything else? You’ve just got it in for me. You just want another little stone, don’t you Trace. Just another stone for your glass house smashing endeavours.’

At this you screwed up your face the way you always did when it came to this nonsense. By this time the kids were at least all ears if they weren’t hanging around the doorframes already.

‘Why didn’t you say anything? And to become a … a … musician?’

‘You can have any reason you want, Trace, and if you don’t like it, I’ll just quit and you can have me do any damn job you like. I’ll just quit! I’ll just ditch it all in the gutter, that’s what you want, isn’t it. You want me to fail.’

I really remember what you said directly after this, it’s stuck in solidarity with the shame I have for my past life: your eyes had become wide as wide by this stage of the argument, wide with insult and disbelief, I could practically hear the whites of your eyes trembling. You said, and I still regard this to be the moment I reached the lowest of the low in your books:

‘You’ve gone completely insane. You’ve just lost it. Just get out now. Just get out. Just take all your shit and get out.’

I had yelled over most of this—in fact throughout the whole episode I had never stopped yelling—but it is pasted onto my mind with powerful memorability. Instead of yelling deranged mockeries and accusations, I wish I had yelled this. I lost my job in the office because I deliberately and wilfully approved a series of enormous money transfers. There was nothing dishonest about the transactions themselves, they were quite necessary, there was nothing wrong about them at all. The problem with them was that they were done without the proper authority. My department needed to meet some sort of productivity quota by the end of a specified period of time, and we weren’t going to make it, so literally got the red rubber stamp of the head of the office and processed these payments. If they had been payments for, or to, anything else, I would’ve gotten away with it. The fact that they were so important literally sealed my fate the moment I had the forms dispatched by courier the day they were stamped: mobile phone calls that must have at first been congratulatory, would have set in motion the ad hoc inter-office investigation that had me fired.

I hadn’t lied so impetuously for so long I doubt I would’ve been fired. It’s a funny thing that cowardice will often put one to emphatically lying, but it’s a thing even funnier that sheer idiocy will always ensure that outcome. I knew that they knew that I had done it, but I clung on to the idea that I could make it out of the fiasco by fixing the wrong-doing on someone else, and with as little and as ill-informed effort as possible. Here and there my accusations flew, and before long I had attempted to blame practically everyone I knew with the approval of the office’s payments. They sent me packing in much the same manner as you did. The reason why I didn’t pay the electricity bill that quarter was because it had been on my desk next to the phone, and I had been marched out of the office then and there, leaving practically everything I took to work that morning behind. It’s a damn shame I never put any pictures of ‘the family’ on my desk to leave behind and never see again that day.

I think I was fired at about eleven in the morning, a week-and-a-half after I had done the deed. A couple of hours later I got a call from Kosciuszko, and this should explain how I became a bassist in a Polka band.

Right[B4] in the middle of Yokine there’s an old salmon-brick building behind a crispy mass of dried lawn, and on its wall facing the street is a peeling white sign with moveable plastic type that says ‘POLKA SOCIETY’, below which there’ll usually be the time of the group’s next set, and possibly the name of a headline act that might be featured, or a particular popular piece that might be playing. The ultraviolet light of the last forty years or so has gotten to the moving Perspex windows covering the letters, the clear substance has now become a bit creamy, obfuscating the sign a bit, but no-one in the Polka group has the heart yet to replace it, the shape of the sign and the particular typeface of the letters has come to characterise the place—people walking their dogs still stop in to grab a pamphlet about the next set, inquiring about which seedy characters we might be importing for a couple of weeks from central Europe.

It’s a serious legend amongst those in the appreciation society that the group’s premises rose out of the concrete mass of the suburban Yokine to fulfil the world’s insatiable need for Polka music. Like a righteous volcano it was raised, so the myth goes, from the blazing molten centre of the Earth, lime cement, window frames and all, presenting itself to the newly-arrived German and Eastern-European immigrants that comprised the Polka group. This was, definitively, so we four delinquents were informed, the second Mecca for Polka on Earth. Where the first and original Mecca existed was a subject of virulent dissent among the appreciation society, so I suppose no-one really knows. I think Manny (the jug-playing janitor) maintains that Polka was indirectly received by mankind through revelation—when Australia was still joined to Antarctica. I won’t outline Manny’s support for his theory, but let me say I found it pretty convincing. Think: musical dinosaurs.

What Kosciuszko’s call had to with the Polka society was fairly innocuous. The group were getting their back veranda doors replaced with those of sliding glass, and they’d found Kosciuszko in in the phone book. How they found him still baffles us all—the new books that had been issued to everyone across Perth had been printed smaller than before—the writing in the books was tiny. They must’ve borrowed Manny’s bifocals. When I arrived with Kosciuszko, Jürgen, the proprietor, greeted us brandishing a distinctly un-curling, un-yellowed phonebook, yelling in an almost incomprehensible German accent,

‘This thing’s impossible to read! Altogether impossible to read! I assume you’re Kosciuszko Trappers!’

The work required needed an extra pair on hands to get rid of the old frames that housed the doors to the veranda. The frames had been set so firmly in place, never having been intended to be removed, that the job almost became a heavy demolition procedure. This was the explanation Kos gave upon being asked why I had arrived along with him, although I think it was probably the business attire that prompted the question. The difficulty of the job struck the Polka society, somewhat. Standing around, holding warm cans of cheap beer, Kos showed them the heavy setting that the doors enjoyed. They stood there a bit after the show and tell, scratching the faded stains on their Wednesday afternoon wife-beater singlets. They looked a bit worried; they didn’t have a lot of money. Soon, after some deliberation, Jürgen reported back,

‘We’ll go ahead. It’s just too hot around here in summer. Doesn’t matter how good the band is on hot days, people can’t stand the heat. Some people faint and hit their heads—you know how it is.’

At the risk of discussing the peculiarities of the construction of the Polka society’s hall at far too much length, ventilation could only do so much for the place. I had some suspicions about what Kos was charging them for the job, but looking back on it now, I wouldn’t have changed a thing about my involvement in renovating the society’s hall. For the couple of weeks or so that Kos took me on for the job, and the month that I spent learning to play Polka at the society before you were unexpectedly alerted of my activities, I had the time of my life.

Working on the building was the first step in my seduction by Polka. The aged structure exuded an earnest warmth that it seemed to absorb from the ground. Jürgen’s insane ramblings about the volcano-like origins of the building began to gain coherence after these observations, and the hall slowly obtained a high and dignified character in my mind as the work progressed, creeping ever closer to completion. The hall’s roof hung on an angle, slanting from one side to the other, and it took on the form of a giant, tenement-sized blade of justice. I suppose creatures that lived in the Earth’s mantle, the architects of the prehistoric Polka society hall, substituted one of their ancient tools to fashion to the roof, not knowing that it would have the ability to turn the place, once on the surface, into a virtual furnace for humans in summer. The slope of the supreme temple of Polka, just in its grand design, imparted itself on my conscience. By working on the property, I gained an avenue into the lives of those who composed the Polka society.

One afternoon, after we’d propped up the load-bearing beams of the hall and taken the old frames out, Kosciuszko and I joined some of the Polka group in the backyard for a few hours—the skeleton-crew that manned the society’s premises in the middle of the week. At the slightest intimation of accepting their invitation, my brother and I were awarded each with a warm can of the state’s true blue flightless bird, the sweet, life-giving nectar of the appreciation society, and the members got right down to work.

‘Do you know what we do here?’ Those that were with us were Jürgen and Manny, who never seemed to leave the place (Manny in fact having lodging behind the lobby), Mrs Strickland, the society’s book-keeper and inscrutable event-coordinator, and John—John X, one of two Johns—the in-house band drummer.

Kos took a swig from his can, ‘you’re musicians, you guys play a bit of music.’

John seemed to twitch at this response, but the others seemed to expect a bit of ignorance.

‘We’re the southern hemisphere’s foremost Polka Society, Mister Trappers,’ sipped Mrs Strickland.

Kos seemed a bit absent at this, but then insisted, ‘oh please, just uh, just call me Kos—Kosciuszko—either, or.’

‘Well,’ said Mrs Strickland, somehow still sipping.

Jürgen broke the impasse, ‘we, here, are torch-bearers of one of the purest and dignified cultural practices known to man: we here are the custodians, stewards, players, of polka. Have you ever heard polka before?’

‘I think we had an uncle with an accordion. Wait, no, my wife’s (forgive me for including you, but this is what happened) grandfather had one,’ I replied.

This wasn’t the worst answer either Kos or I could’ve given, so Jürgen seemed somewhat encouraged, ‘an accordion! The tamed, living, breathing instrument of a polka-player, no?’

‘I suppose he was.’

‘Do you know what it is that lifts the polka up an above all other forms of music? Above the—what is it called?—rapping of those with the boom boxes, why polka is deeper in meaning, and more beautiful than even the most exquisite symphonies and sonatas?’

‘No, I, I wish I did.’

Jürgen pushed on with liveliness, ‘the polka soars above all other art-forms because it calls one to dance! Nothing is more powerful and soul-penetrating than that of music to which one can dance, and the dance that the polka summons is infinitely [B5] mysterious and inspirational.’

‘Almost like a way of living,’ Kos furrowed his brow.

‘Exactly,’ John nodded. ‘They say we’re all characters inhabiting some dream in a sleeping man’s mind, and that polka music is the pulse of that creature’s heart—learn to play polka, and you free yourself from the oppressiveness of what one might term the “human condition”.’

The sound of the crickets in the bushes suddenly took over the thoughts of those present. They whipped up a formless white-noise between and around us, glazing our eyes over and turning them inwards, we studied the words we’d spoken to and heard from each other. A sullen cynicism crept into the back of my mind. The passion and mysticism of the group was patently earnest, but I felt reserved as to whether I was prepared to start following their meaning. Luckily Kos saved me from the embarrassment of having to divest myself of these attitudes,

‘you know I was sent with my brothers, in my childhood, to these church groups. We sang and danced there and practiced psalms. Never got much out of the experience. I don’t consider myself a learned man, but from what I’ve read, and where I’ve gone, I consider such things not to be the truest words ever spoken, if you can excuse me for so saying.’

The appreciation society members looked down at the feet, across at the Hardi Board, and the amorphous cloud of the crickets still lingered. Kosciuszko went on,

‘In fact I remember coming back from Sunday classes once, and I remember at that stage the parents of a friend of one of my others brother, Mick, and I, would let us come across to their house for a couple of hours afterwards. Our friend had a fish-tank in his bedroom in which he kept these rare, exotic kinds of goldfish and that whole family was enamoured by these fish, bringing up the taxonomy of their sub-genus and such things, and I used to look at these sabre-toothed things in cold sweaty fear! They had eyes like dinner plates, and I suppose the only reason they didn’t leap out of the tank and drink my blood as I hovered there in front of it was that those putrid, jellied photoreceptors of theirs weren’t good enough to resolve images of their prey through thick panes of fish tank glass.

‘One morning over at our friend’s house, I saw one brightly-coloured fish eating another. The struggle didn’t take too long to resolve, but it did cause the tank-water to swirl and froth, tossing around the aquarium’s plastic kelp and a scuba-diver figurine violently. After the bloody consumption had ended, and all the other fish had long since astutely decided to hide in a hollow clay log, the carnivorous fish appeared to survey the tank as some sort of conquered land, tilling the rainbow-coloured pebbles that lined its bottom, and inspecting the water-filter in a dignified, statesman-like manner. While the other fish quivered, out of their minds, fearing for their lives from this scaly psychopath, the conqueror fish assembled a morbid crown out of the bones remaining from its late dinner, propping up the bones it didn’t use for the crown into a sick mound that reminded me of a priest’s crook.

‘What I saw disturbs me still to this day. I see the same “dance” on building sites such as these, if not predominantly in offices where people use words to arrest the minds of their enemies, where anything is a weapon and death and defeat is not an observable state of existence, but a yet terminable living nightmare. When I think of these people I think of the quivering fish I saw in that tank, their wounds diffusing red into limey-green water. You see, power and violence makes knowledge, wisdom and truth—open your eyes and spy the Loch Ness hanging over your own lives, the jealous, cold-blooded moron stupid enough to fail to be other-regarding, possessing your lives as its own.’

The crickets roared as loud as ever now, but we drinkers of warm beer apprehended Kosciuszko’s meaning. I recall Mrs Strickland was none more so engaged with Kos, now.

Neatly cradling her now-empty red and white can in her hands, she announced,

‘but what a pathetic existence that’d make, Mr Trappers.’

‘That’s no argument against what is very possibly true.’

Manny, silent until now, unable to contain himself, jutted in, ‘have you even heard any polka before? You merely haven’t received the revelation one acquires in participating in polka! This is a society of revelation, Kosciuszko, and from the looks of it, it’s something from which you might benefit. What a pathetic refutation of the virtues of polka—Jürgen, help us out, go get your accordion.’

He had been studying the spines of his moustache thinking, but answered immediately, ‘gladly.’ He mentioned he’d have to head home to go get it, which was luckily just down the road.

After Jürgen had dismounted the red-brick retaining wall on which we were all sitting, hobbled around to the front of the building, and then off down to our left down the road in his shredded thongs, Manny decided he wanted a bit more of a piece of us.

‘Who are you guys, anyway?’ He took a gulp, ‘where do you come from?’

I admit the question took both Kos and I by complete surprise. Nobody had ever asked us this, and I swear no-one has ever asked it since. Such an inquiry had us totally disabled.

‘Hm? Who were your parents? This might explain these ideas of yours.’

‘Didn’t really have parents,’ I echoed from the bottom of my can. I suppose I also have this to explicate to you—you know this much, that I only really had legal guardians for parents, but I really was defensive on the matter. How we got married, you knowing nothing about me, really does highlight how you loved me. You waited for me to be ready to tell you, and as things dragged on, I broke that trust, much the same way I broke all the others.

‘Want another?’ John shot both me and my brother a wary set of eyes, noticing the lightness of our cans. We both nodded, and he reached into the esky.

‘Really, no parents.’

Both Kosciuszko and I scratched our stubble, trying to find the words. Kos got to it faster than I did,

‘Our father was insanely rich. He owned copper mines and airlines. I remember we all met him a couple of times, and both times he wore this white suit and his eyes were shielded behind these incredible outward-mirrored glasses, so we never really got to see his face.’

Mrs Strickland stared unblinkingly.

‘He had lots of cars,’ I said, lamely. ‘I can’t remember if we had a mother. I like to think we were born in test-tubes, I think dad would’ve been rich enough to do that then, he owned laboratories and bought scientists like football cards. If all of us brothers were born like everyone else it might’ve been to a supermodel or something, although that doesn’t really make any sense because a supermodel would have doubtless had us aborted the very morning she would’ve woken up, children and pregnancy have nothing to do with being a supermodel.

The crickets subsided and the clouds slowed overhead. One passed under our view of the sun, pouring us into a brief shadow, causing everyone to have a bit of an awkwardly-timed shiver.

‘If you knew your father better than you mother, what was your father’s name?’ Manny kept on.

‘Gormund something,’ Kos looked at me.

‘Gormund Keller,’ I said blankly. ‘I have no idea why we got the last name Trappers.’

‘He was German?’

‘Fuck knows.’

‘Where did you live?’

‘In houses,’ Kos rubbed his face. ‘We had nannies at first, and then we were left with people we were taught to call uncle and aunty. By the time of the last aunty I think Paul was about, what, seven? Mick was pretty old by then, but not even Mick knew Gormund. I think Mick must’ve been the guinea pig for the old guy’s ability to alienate children, he had it pretty rough. I think he was treated like some sort of pet until he grown up.

‘Anyway Gormund’s mother, who I assume, in any case—and I mean this no disrespect whatsoever, the woman was a saint—is our biological grandmother, won us off him in court.’

‘How?’ John lit up what looked like a stale cigarette.

‘The judgment’s reasons relied on evidence that we’d been starved for some time, but I don’t remember starving.’

‘Pretty rough.’

‘You could say.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘Yeah, he’s dead,’ Kosciuszko borrowed one of John’s cigarettes.

‘Did you get anything?’

‘Now there’s a funny story,’ said Kos, coughing a bit of a laugh. ‘He had everything stripped from him when that lot,’ he stuck out a thumb over his shoulder, ‘got in.’

‘No shit! All allocated away?’

‘We saw him a third time, actually, the last time we saw him. All four of us kids were shepherded by limousines from an airport in Britain to this giant glass box in the middle of a big city—I honestly don’t know which one—and we were taken to his bedside. He was spluttering and hacking and was guarded by these two suited goons. They kept adjusting the blinds, and as our father wheezed out these gaseous words that we couldn’t understand, the room got dimmer and dimmer until we couldn’t see the dying bastard, let alone hear what he was pontificating about.

‘Turned out he was trying to placate us about not being included in his will. We got the last laugh on that one, didn’t we? Our grandmother told us the government took it right out of his bank accounts. Resourceful eh? They just reached into the Cayman Islands and plucked out what they thought belonged to Western Australia—stamp duty for all those flats in which people bummed with no running water, I bet.’

Kos always got excited when he talked about how dad, Gormund, whatever he was, ‘finally got his’.

‘But your nana was a nice lady, wasn’t she.’

‘Yeah gran-ma was a legend. Before we went and lived with her we all gorged ourselves on attention and approval. We were constantly tantalised by the thought that a nanny, or later, one of our uncles or aunties, would communicate anything positive about us upwards through the filial substratum on top of which Gormund lorded. Gormund was like a god to which we prayed, and over which we fought and scrambled for favour.’

Looking back on that now, we weren’t just neglected children, but little selfish little rats that hoarded from one-another anything good we possibly could. Food used to be important property between us, and mealtimes, when we still had meals together, became disputes for territory on tables, or over the apportionment of the sizes of our servings. Everything must’ve grown out of this wanton pettiness. Life was a commodity one tried to abuse both ways simultaneously, as we so malignantly dreamed: to be both jealously protected and consumed with fleeting relish. What surprises me so much is how base and simple it was, how life was all about, and ever more covetously became to be, the idea or pursuit of having the thing, and not the thing itself. I never truly noticed I had brothers until I was transformed, and I’m adamant that this was true also for my brothers. All of those monumental fights into which we were drawn in our teens, where we busted out each other’s teeth and clawed at our fellow brother’s eyes, should never have happened because life was all about appearances. The fights we had as grown men were never any different.

‘We [B6] fell into lives that resembled something normal when we arrived with gran-ma,’ Kos said. ‘But I don’t know what she saw in us, and I suspect towards the end she wondered that same thing. A part of me actually wants to believe that she eventually regretted taking us four on, because we were so abusive and emotionally moribund. Thinking that satisfies a guilty pleasure of mine to believe that it wasn’t her own vices that killed her, but ours. She was a nervous wreck when Paul finally turned twenty one, the slightest whiff of a problem floating on her temporal horizon conjured up for her steely-eyed demons that caused her slave menially over the sinks in the laundry and the kitchen. She used to screw her eyes up when we turned the knives. We really took it out on gran-ma.’

John took a drag, ‘my dad got a bicycle to ride to work when I was a kid. He told me not to touch it but I took the thing off for a ride and smashed it up. I smashed that thing up good. When I came home my legs were bleeding that badly that when my father saw me and the shiny heap of crap to which I’d reduced his bike, he said nothing and did nothing about it. I’m not sure whether he understood whether I’d learnt my lesson or whether he didn’t really care about the bike. I’m sure he would’ve cared, that was a damned expensive bike. You’d be hard-pressed to find a bunch of kids that weren’t a pain to their elders, Kos.’

‘We were pretty bad though.’

‘It’s all in the past now, though, mate.’

Their old cigarettes were pretty musty, when Jürgen returned we four were sort of shrouded in a flavoursome white cloud contained by the clicking of the now-resurgent bush-dwelling insects. The soon-to-be-performing performer parted the wavy clouds with his third lung, disturbing their eddy currents, waking us all up. We snapped to as the air cleared, the cloud overhead retreated, and our cold cove became flooded with light. It must’ve taken me a while to get a clear view of Jürgen, because he was bathed in a pool of golden-white light, from which he emerged to sit back down where he was on the retaining wall.

‘I’ll play you something special,’ he said. ‘Because I think you two are probably going to need it.’

The very second the accordion croaked into life, I was incensed. Jürgen and the machine merged into one rhythm-hugging creature, spinning what was probably an ancient yarn that had snowballed over some centuries from a sacred whisper strung to the time of fealty. The limits of the fabric of space and time that I’d seen tested in Paul’s grandmother’s room some months ago were now being discarded altogether. I looked over and Kosciuszko, in his seat, stars and planets the harmonic frequencies that resonated all-between, and he was doing his best to hide a silly grin of enjoyment. I communed with the Higgs boson, unravelled the mysteries of quantum mechanics and after some time, saw a silvery bright light on the outer ridge of my spectral adventure that I dearly hoped was the answer to, or meaning of life. I felt the presence of a set of two cautious, mind-reading eyes staring at me from locations all and none. The eyes cast out the images of stern, strong, secret-keeping seals, bright, meaningful lamps, and foul, sinister sheets of sack-cloth, with which the seals and the lamps were associated in binary opposition.

It occurred to me that I must accept these images even though they propagated from an as yet indiscernible fallacy; how can there be things that are opposites? Looking back on this sample of my consciousness now, I readily understand that the opposite of a hospital is the red, red bush, and the opposite of a white, shiny boat is a wet, dredgeable, watery public grave. I remember from that moment believing that we are inextricably surrounded by opposites, even though they do not exist in materiality. Jürgen’s song taught me a small amount, and also a great deal. It taught me, irritatingly, everything and then nothing at all. It was like a smooth drug, hugging my internal organs with two gigantic intoxicant hands, against which I protested, ‘surely, if opposites are not real, then they must be an illusion of perception! I think the cause lives in a small portion of one’s brain—locate this portion and you’ll see!’

The eyes beyond the lamps and the seals and the endless sack-cloth stared on with insistence. They seemed to suggest that my rebuttal only provided further evidence for its mystical proposition,

‘Things can be discriminated and set apart from one another,’ the eyes flashed. ‘These discriminations will be undertaken by your brain. However, as to your objection that there cannot be any certain truths, one cannot approach this assertion without a sense of irony: it’s entirely possible that you’re not exactly arguing from a position of good faith.’

As the booming words ceased, so did Jürgen’s song. He looked up at us uninitiated, starry-eyed cadets with a bit of a chuckle, stealing a cigarette from John. I looked over again at Kos and I could tell he had seen a different vision than that I’d seen, because his expression was warm and placid, what he’d seen probably hadn’t involved a mild, somewhat extended rebuke from a disembodied voice.

‘Do you see things too?’

‘That was a particularly wistful Polka, I suppose we were all contemplating the things that trouble us most.’

The sun had begun to set, ‘staying for dinner?’

Kosciuszko’s elation had subsided, but he was in a quiet, contemplative mood, ‘yeah, yeah let’s stay.’

So we stayed and ate some terrible, oily take-out food. As we ate, I felt strange that we weren’t talking, and after chirping all afternoon and evening, I suddenly regarded the crickets for the first time. We moved inside for dinner. Kosciuszko and John dragged in a laminated collapsible table out from a storage room and we placed it right in the middle of the performance room. Manny called it the ‘ball room’ but Mrs Strickland dismissed this as ‘hopelessly misleading—we’ve never conducted a ball in here’. Mrs Strickland seemed to eat with her mouth open, I could see it in the corner of your eye as you looked down at the table, but when I spun my head every now and then to pretend looking up at the humming sodium lights up above between the rafters, I couldn’t see her mouth moving at all.

‘When did you all start playing polka?’ Kosciuszko was always belligerent over meals.

‘A long time ago.’

‘And when did you set up this society?’

‘Some time after we began to play polka,’ Mrs Strickland sniggered through seemingly flapping jowls.

Kos looked a bit crestfallen at this, he had actually been quite excited, ‘I saw things in the music Jürgen played this afternoon. You found out—and now know—everything about us, and then reached into us and detected our deepest thoughts, I somehow consider you all very close friends now, I’m quick considering to do all this work,’ he threw a balding forehead towards the retaining wall past the flapping tarpaulin, ‘gratuitously. I’ve been upset about something for weeks past, now, you solved that problem but I think I might be soon upset about something else now—for once, I sheepishly admit, not out of spite—please, tell me who you lot are, and if possible to divulge, as an ancillary matter, where can I acquire membership to your family?’

Mrs Strickland was flecking food everywhere, I just knew it, ‘Jürgen bought the place. Your family were a long line of princes, weren’t they?’

‘Yes. Our principality was usurped, mind. Besides, we are no longer princes.’

‘You fought in terrible wars, though, didn’t you?’

Jürgen practically rolled his eyes, ‘with nerve gas and terrible consequences if you were captured by the enemy.’

Kosciuszko said nothing; he just looked on in expectation. Jürgen saw this and he knew.

‘There was a small, unknown state in the middle of Europe from which I come, which was subsumed by many different armies over a period of months during the Second World War. It no longer exists—I think it’s a part of Germany now, I’m not sure. During the confusion of the advancing and retreating, my family’s ancient reign over that small hill was stolen by some clever guerrilla fighters. They killed many people in my family, under the pretence that we were conspirators with every kind, Nazis, Soviets—Shark-finned tuna, eh?—and my parents fled here, my brother and I just infants.

‘We played polka in our principality, everyone danced and was happy. We had carefully avoided every kind of war up until that point, I don’t know how. I’ve returned to the place, which is, hilariously, governed in one form or another by the usurpers. Life is difficult for the people there now, though. It’s like the fairy-tales I was told as a child—I’m sure we were all told these little lies, that the King comes back to his Kingdom and Conquers Righteously, and all the little evil cretin that infested the annals become happily forgotten, and everyone lives happily ever after, no?

‘We took a lot of money with us and I used the last of it to buy this, what I consider the last bastion of my legacy as a prince, and I think everyone accepts I have a selfish connection to this property, aside from and despite the fact that I use it for such charitable purposes. It is hypocritical: old money, extracted through exploitation, paraded around like it belonged to everyone. In that respect I’ll never cease to be a fraud. I’ve spent my life playing liberating polka, and this fulfils me, but I am visited by the sins of my parents. We should’ve died; we were complicit in the enslavement of our people by saving ourselves and not doing more, we should have at least sacrificed ourselves.’

‘But surely that in itself is a fatuous, bourgeois morality, what on earth would that have achieved?’ Food, food flecking everywhere. The woman was talking with her mouth open (that’s not to say I don’t, and that I wasn’t, but I was taking exception to this!).

‘[B7] What’s done is done, it’s in the past,’ Jürgen said. ‘I’m haunted by these ideas of my own creation. You may be right; this evil I see dangling over my choices isn’t really real.’

‘Nnn,’ a veritable landslide of food.

Almost ignoring everyone else at the table, Jürgen asked, trying to clear something out of his teeth, ‘what about you though, Mrs Strickland? Something hangs over your life, doesn’t it? There’s a big black dog chasing you somewhere, I just know it.’

He had made this last remark in jest, and Mrs Strickland sat up, somewhat superciliously, a little straighter as a result, ‘no. My life was and is remarkably normal.’

“Fuck off!’

‘What you think I’d lie? My father was a labourer and my mother was, perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly for the time, a nothing.’

‘Your mother was a nothing? Like theirs?’ John poked a badly broken chopstick in our direction. ‘No offence.’

‘That’s how I’d put it—none taken.’

‘No I mean she cooked and cleaned.’

‘My father was a cleaner,’ Manny said flatly.

‘And so was his dad and the dad before that,’ Jürgen smirked.

‘But his dad, was an Earl,’ John said, looking at us with raised eyebrows.

‘All this royalty!’ Kos declared. ‘Why the sudden spell of serfdom?’

Manny seemed to search himself. He said, ‘decided to become a cleaner.’

Jürgen laughed, ‘he had it taken off him, Manny, you read the thing the librarian gave you. They revoked his Earldom and all his land and oxen and letters patent. They sold all these things and bought a shiny new warship for the English fleet.’

‘That may have happened but we were always cleaners.’

John scratched his head with the broken chopstick, looking at Mrs Strickland, who was purposefully ignoring his inciting gaze.

‘We had teams of peasants and retainers and we were charged with the responsibility of cleaning up the borough all through the ages. We were always poor though. Can’t say cleaning has ever been the best lot in life. I think things are getting better—for instance—the bleach I use in the lavatories has a fragrance of pleasantness par excellence, you can’t even small the chlorine, the stuff’s magic, I love it.’

‘You’re insane, you know that.’

‘I’m damn proud to be a cleaner! I do a damned good job for you guys. I waxed and vanished this floor, I take all of the possums out of the roof cavities…’

‘There haven’t been any possums in the roof!’

‘There sure as hell has! Colonies and colonies, they had printing presses and they were going to use them to let it be known that our roofs were inhospitable! We really do need to get some proper batts up there.’

Mrs Strickland shook her head but he ignored this, ‘I do a good job around here. I pay my way.’

‘You’re a funny man,’ Mrs Strickland said. ‘You wouldn’t catch me being a cleaner, look at your hands.’

Everyone glanced at Manny’s hands, the mottled things. Years of removing things with chemicals, and then applying things to surfaces with chemicals had virtually destroyed whatever resemblance the club-like objects attached to Manny’s somewhat less destroyed arms bore to a person’s hands.

‘It’s an honourable station in life,’ Manny assured us. ‘I endure the hardships because I have a deep love for domestic surfaces. Concrete floors and plaster ceilings are especially my favourite to which to attend. If I had to choose between the two I’d opt for concrete in a heartbeat, it’s the stuff of Plato and Aristotle.’

John was looking at Jürgen now, pleading with him, come on, this has got to be one of his best bouts. Just have a laugh. Come on, you’ve got to laugh too, to let me!

Kosciuszko, however, was taking this pretty seriously, ‘what’s so great about concrete?’

‘It’s the purest substance ever known to man,’ Manny answered.

‘Is it?’

‘Without a doubt, everything comes from concrete; it’s the timeless fabric of the universe.’

“I - ’

‘Ah-ah-here me out, this lot have closed their minds to the truths I stumble on as I take care of this place, don’t you go and ruin it for yourself too,’ Manny had the takeaway food brochure in his hand, and was waving it rhetorically.

‘You see it contains all of the fundamental substances of the universe. Earth, fire, wind, water and the properties of the heavenly spheres, he pointed to the stars. ‘They’re all inside substance. It’s both the beginning and the end as a subject of the study of physics, just as the study of the companies that make both ice-creams and deodorisers are the touchstone of sociology.’

I could see Kos making slow attempts to find a way to cover his face.

‘Concrete is a very sacred substance. The Romans knew this. They knew this and they used it, and they became great! We forgot about it for a long time, and when we found it again, didn’t everything suddenly become great again? All the buildings and footpaths and movement. All of this is contained within the concrete, waiting to leap out and crystallise into a final form. Just to further prove this all to you, and make sure you’re clear about what I’m getting at, consider concrete that’s been badly made—too much water, not enough sand, not enough heat—Aristotle really had it on the mark!’

‘But what about atoms, Manny, sand and water are made out of atoms,’ Mrs Strickland levelled her eyes at the enigmatic cleaner.

‘Tell me,’ Manny paused, the brochure in his hands quivering. ‘Have you ever seen an atom?’

‘Manny you can’t surely -’

‘Ah-ah-ah! If you can’t see it, how do you know that it’s there?’

‘Manny, even if you can see something, how do you know that it’s real? Besides, you can see atoms’

‘No-one has yet seen an atom, Mrs Strickland, and furthermore, all the microscopes in the world will only ever serve to prove that concrete is the purest and best substance. Spend some time scrubbing, and find out!’

The conversation subsided after this, Manny’s desire to refute his objectors became somewhat impossible to satisfy, he’d bring up millennia-old, toga-wearing philosophers at every turn of the subsequent conversation, and it was difficult to talk about anything else. By that time it was very late anyway, we all ended up staring tipsily into our plastic cups, grease smeared all over our faces.

Everyone hung around out the front except Manny, who stayed inside to go to sleep. We all studied the stars, whatever we could pick out from the ones not hidden by the terrible light pollution—moths hung around the illustrious street light singing a warm fifty-hertz ballad to whoever would listen. Thanks to the tall light, we all acquired second selves, attached to our feet, as Jürgen struggled with the front door.

‘I’ll call the locksmith tomorrow!’ I could hear from inside.

‘Oh no! No no! I’ll call the locksmith, don’t worry I’ll call the locksmith.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes Manny. Good night.’

We left much of Kosciuszko’s building tools on the premises in order to fit everyone inside, and we drove everyone home, one-by-one, Mrs Strickland off in Osborne Park, John at the train-station there so he could return to Clarkson, of all places. Jürgen merely came along for the ride, sliding out of his seat and onto the kerb when we returned to the appreciation society’s street. He hung onto the panel van’s passenger seat door, looking down at its rubber mat. Nothing happened for a while, and I leaned over to check what was going on.

‘You all right, Jürgen?’ The sound of the engine’s rattly idling dissipated out into the T-junction just nearby, and I could feel the prickly heat of tomorrow’s feisty, cloud dodging sun coming on up my neck. He looked all chopped up through the grating behind the front seats, like a sliding puzzle just about primed to become all scrambled, and remain that way for years in the bottom of a chest of drawers.

‘If you’re uh, serious about the polka, start rocking up and we’ll give you some lessons, if you want,’ he stared somewhat awkwardly out over the windscreen. ‘Thanks for tonight boys; it’s been a long time since anyone with a fresh face has turned up on our doorstep. The chances the lot of us are going to get to meet new people are slipping pretty quickly now, and they’ll continue to slip even faster as we all get more and more stooped into our own drool, hopefully you didn’t have to put up with much tonight—sorry about Manny, incidentally. The old coot’s got no-one behind the,’ he paused, ‘you know,’ he raised a hand to his ear and looked at us both.

‘Not at all,’ Kos said. ‘Haven’t had that much fun in a long, long time.’ These sorts of congratulatory after-party moments used to be events that formed indelible memories that we would use to bolster our idiotic confidence for fights, but strangely, the self-effacing subtext for such assimilation was here not present, everything seemed to flow, to be in a state of flowing, a dense and flexuous snapshot of the cosmos.

‘So you two want to learn some polka?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Guess we’ll be seeing you tomorrow.’

It seemed like Jürgen’s German accent had disappeared. He limped a bit to his house, and once he was in we saw a few different lights go on and off, the house finally going dark completely. Kos had to get out of the van and close Jürgen’s door, and once we’d taken a moment to say absolutely nothing to each other, collecting our thoughts, we took off right after Kos uncharacteristically stalled the motor vehicle with a resounding crunching of gears.

Work [B8] continued throughout the following week apace, the frames for the new glass doors going in right after we’d taken care of the building’s structural integrity. Every now and then a society member would come out for a few words or an occasional smoke, usually always starting with a comment on the now cloudless, blistering hot weather hanging over this part of Perth, and ending with a terrible pun before wiping their brows all the way back inside. There must have been twenty stand-fans going on in there, anything fixed to the back of the hall flapped languidly for several seconds, then hummed with the airflow like all-get-out, driving me wild as I worked. The sweat sleeted clear off me while I worked on those back doors, washing the sunscreen I had applied in guilty anxiety clear off me—I haven’t a single clue how my lies about my walks on the foreshore might have gotten past you. You must’ve been drop-dead busy, or either known, and simply not be bothered enough to have me storming around the house, accusing everyone else of ridiculous things, as I usually did, just to make you give up. I was as red and peeling, you must have known I wasn’t at work.

It was just as likely that we didn’t see each other much for those weeks, you arriving home late at night quite a bit during that half of the year. Things were pretty bad, even then. I watched you hang out the washing on the weekend. It piled up during the week, and you tracked it all down, having memorised what particular articles of clothing were to be used on which days, and at which times, because the kids left would always leave their sports-gear at home. When this happened you’d go driving, or get your sister moving on it on the odd occasion, I remember the way your voice would trail off when you’d ring me, only to have me, as you would always expect, yell right back down the line.

‘Okay.’

I’m sorry for all those times Tracy. You stopped ringing me because I’d either yell at you or go on long, nebulous rants, asking you about the level of the cars’ break-fluid or the next time we might have to go have dinner with your parents. You used to make it really difficult for me to ring you, because anything would set me off. In my mind I constructed a web of people’s phones to contact, emanating outwards from your mobile. The fifth on the list, your office’s reception’s phone, was the one that usually always worked, but I still rang the more important four in their corresponding order of importance without fail whenever I felt the compulsion to get slimy on you, telling you, ‘gosh, I hope everything’s going okay for you’. I think you’d sit there, and have your mobile, then cubicle, then section phone all ring out. If they were positioned anything like the phones in my office, I must have had them ring long and hard in each of your ears.

Your mother was fourth on list because ringing her was guaranteed to have her talk to you about the call later, it was an ingenious form of punishment that I had invented in the hope that it might coerce you to pick up you mobile. The only problem was that she’d never get to the old yellowing thing hanging in her kitchen in time for me to concoct a series of important-sounding statements for her to hear and immediately man her battle-stations.

We stopped talking even though we lived in the same house. How pathetic did I make your life? I would refuse, repeatedly, to pick you up after seven because it was ‘too goddamned late’. I didn’t pick you up because I thought you were avoiding me. I would always learn, later, why you would be arriving home late, usually from your amiable boss. He would chortle over the canapés which I would funnel into my mouth at your work functions, bullshitting about some huge deal that he’d secured ‘against all the odds, all the odds!’ right after squeezing out some praise about you. This seemed to push him to almost crippling physical pain, now that I think about it, but at the time I supposed his bodily contortions were related to the same indigestion from which I would always suffer at these things. I still wouldn’t pick you up, though. Coming home late was a heinous crime, it didn’t matter how important it was for your job, or your bastard boss, I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t drive you home. I’d make your feet swell all the way from the office to the bus, bus to the fifteen minutes I would always hear you spend in front of the front door, fumbling in the dark for the keys. I would pretend that I wasn’t there, that way you’d come to me—I’d make you come to me, you would have to ask me how I was.

I’ve changed Tracy, I promise I’ve changed. I can prove to you I’ve changed. There won’t be any more of this. There can’t be any more of this because I am different now, the same but different—‘better’ different. I’m new now, I’ve regenerated, and I’ve received another chance at everything. It was in part the friendships of everyone at the polka society that catalysed this change but the real reason must come later, I need to lead you into it.

Kos and I started having music lessons with the appreciation society before the glass for the sliding doors arrived. Kos was donned with his own accordion, something old, admittedly; it had been in storage on the premises for some time, but, by the appreciation society, it was a great honour. I was, like I said, given a bass guitar.

‘We’d prefer a double-bass but there’s no sense in that,’ John and I had sat down to restring the black, cudgel-like thing. ‘But the bass-guitar has a range unparalleled by any other musical instrument. It’s also really groovy. The drummer and the bass guitarist stick together; we’ll be following each other’s lead.’

John paused as he plucked the highest string, checking a battery-powered tuner, ‘all that said, the stuff we usually play these days is pretty tame, you might only have to play three or four notes just to complete a set.’ He said this without resignation, and because he mentioned this in such a matter-of-fact manner, the idea didn’t strike me at all. The state of decline in which the appreciation society found itself took time to sink in, the fact that they had been neutering any experimentation with their music dawned on me later, when Kosciuszko and I had become good enough to play, and had gone off with the appreciation society’s ‘Band One’ to go play some gigs.

It was still summer, but long after we’d completed the renovation, and somewhat of a fair deal of time after you kicked me out. The heat was still unbearable even though the calendar was leaving the season-designated months, I’m not sure why we still use the words in Perth, it will barely rain here in winter, and then the whole place will flood just as spring is passing over the baleful crucible to summer, I’ve never understood it.

The appreciation society had a fleet of old, trusty white vans that were equipped for gigs to which we had to travel, depending on their size. More often than not we just piled into a single van, cradling our instruments at first, but after someone would reveal a deck of cards on their person they were hastily discarded and those in the back would sit cross-legged, arthritically, wagering cigarettes. The world whisked by under the high windows above our heads, and the time would pass quickly and childishly, we’d always have a band member in the van that hadn’t showed up at the hall for a while for reasons very saliently apparent, but strictly unmentionable. The reasons were almost always medical—the group was aging, trips to the hospital or bumps getting out of bed were becoming more of a frequent affair. Nobody wanted to give away these distressing truths, and yet everyone was talking about them.

Many of these people had known each other for years—they recalled sport victories, pub-brawls, ballroom dances, romantic forays—and no-one wanted to admit that they were a slave to the sands of time, that their sinews were hardening, their minds were slowly waltzing to and fro on the verge of senility, that they were in any way not unencumbered personally. Kos and I felt a bit out of place with such concerns, and at times I did feel like I was trading my (relative) youth for their age, but their company was invaluable. The majority of the group was, to some degree, more advanced in their years, but their wit was acerbic. Snide remarks flew across the cramped panel van during trips, causing there to be someone always laughing.

The society’s most popular clarinettist, Leonora, was once the brunt of a terrible running gag started by Nico, who played brass instruments. The joke was simple enough but its cult snowballed: all Nico had said was that she was ‘dumpy’. The man’s heavy accent was the drive of the humour and you’d have van-loads of people in tears, even Leonora, laughing in complete hysterics, as the joke became less about Leonora and more about outlandish the word ‘dumpy’ really was.

‘Say “Dumpilumpil”, Nico, go on!’

‘Dumpil…lumpil…’

‘No no! Together! Say it together!’

We had a gig at an RSL in that late part of summer, which may or may not have cast the spectre of a question of a doubt in the back of the minds of Kos and I about our fraternisation with people just a little bit older than us, but this in turn I doubt—it really wasn’t a problem. The club possessed a big bronze replica artillery cannon out the front and the block was situated somewhat humorously, as someone pointed out, close to a primary school. The sea of bull-grass surrounding the cannon, the club’s plaques had been as neatly trimmed as many of the veteran’s crew-cuts. Indeed they had steely greetings that made it seem like there were rules about everything governing life in the RSL.

We played some pretty pathetic music, by the society’s standards. Our audience, however, was veritably stunned. I was expecting the absolute worst, getting up on the stage they’d fashioned out of milk-crates; I honestly thought these guys (and their poor thirty-year-old kitchen lady?) would want to listen to something—by their standards at least, because polka really does innovate in this area—a bit more edgy. Maybe we could only cast the spell outwards? Perhaps as I progressed, I wanted to chase the very frontier of the polka art form. Performances would be predictably frequent, and each one did seem to roll into the next, but every now and then someone would really pull off a solo, or add in a cheeky turn to a couple of notes that would keep you guessing. We all played off one-another during performances, so we really had different two audiences during gigs.

It[B9] became an unwritten rule between Kosciuszko and me that we would waste on alcohol almost all of the money we’d earned for a gig. Our band-members always politely ignored our steady descent into loutishness after we’d finished a set, when we would come down off the stage and mingle with the crowd. I think our drunkenness turned us into rabble-rousers most of the time; I like to think that we were both lively and well-received, but this is more than likely our view from behind the beer goggles—as an aside, I don’t think I’ve ever had a greater appreciation for swan draught.

We weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen at the gig at the RSL, so Kos and I got pissed as usual. In fact I think we got John to join in, we had a pretty good time along with a couple of RSL guys, spilling the noxious stuff we drinking everywhere, catching our breath from laughing about functionally nothing. It turned out Mick was there.

Mick, as he always did, slug-like, crept up behind us drunks, announcing, ‘chaps.’ I inhaled the mouthful I was drawing in, spraying it slightly, causing everyone within a certain cone to receive a wonderful shower of lager.

‘Heard Tracy kicked you out.’

‘Heard you’re still a wife-beater.’

‘Want to make something of it?’ Mick snarled. ‘What about you Kos, little shit, I suppose you were looking for me.’

‘What?’ Kos searched himself. ‘Yeah look, not really interested Mick, why don’t you go flog your vacuum-cleaners somewhere else.’

Everyone seemed to back away, upset at this. The three of us were hastily ushered outside by a couple of veterans who I was either too drunk or too sorry to identify. We stood out in the failing bituminised car-park, staring at each other.

‘You too are a real piece of work.’

‘We’re here on business.’

‘Funny that.’

‘Fixing leaking sinks?’

‘Got some debts, Kos, debts—ever heard of a debt? You ever owe anyone?’

‘Do you regularly terrorise pensioners?’

‘Ever been terrorised by a pensioner?’

‘Quit talking like you’re the lift-out cryptic crossword.’

‘Alright, why are you here?’

‘We’re in a polka band.’

There seemed to be, suddenly, a moment of great, impenetrable silence, and those words rung in the air like tintinnabulation from a belfry. Mick’s ears seemed to sniff at its melody, taking a few quick whiffs before sucking it all in with ear-lobed nostrils. His face twisted and his eyes began to water. Within seconds he was on haunches, almost rolling around in the blue-stone that had been freed from the crappy asphalt. I can’t say I expected the response, and I was a bit offended. The only way I had to deal with this at the time was to take a sudden avid interest in my surroundings—the pattern the wire made on the fence, the speed at which the cars lazily passing seemed to be travelling—my face glowing red-hot in disgrace.

‘Alright,’ Mick said, panting. ‘I believe you.’

‘We’re pretty good you know—we played a good set.’

‘Just,’ Mick’s face started twitching, like there was another person in there, clawing at his receding hairline. ‘You’re killing me, don’t make me start again.’ He was gulping, desperately trying to consume something stoic from the atmosphere. ‘Okay, I believe you, jesus, why would anyone lie about that.’

‘Why did you – ’

‘Just give me a moment, I never thought anything like this would ever happen.’

‘What would happen?’

‘I hoped it would but I never, ever, thought it would happen,’ he finally stopped leaning on his thighs. ‘You guys have gone bat-shit mental. Completely lost it.’

‘What are you doing out here, in an RSL, Mick.’

Mick hated it when Kos would take that tone, and his attitude crept back into his badly-ironed suit, ‘some shit has gone down, alright’, he spat, his head turning slightly, neck leering, leering, growing thicker, as if the person under his forehead was pumping it full of poison.

‘Right.’

‘I was owed some money and now I need it.’

‘And you decided you needed it after something happened,’ I said innocuously, not realising that I’d just joined the inquest.

Mick almost emptied his stomach just to have me silenced, ‘of course things happen, things happen and you need mo – ney, to buy things, ever heard of that?’

I would always be disabled by these assaults; Mick would have me by the gullet, choking for my pride when he wanted it, and he would never want it because he desired it, but because he wanted it disposed. We had rarely ever talked because he was a fair bit older, crawled out of the nest and into the logger’s chicken sandwich. He must have swum in that logger’s belly for years because he had been saturated with bile his entire adult life.

It was the middle of the afternoon, the home-time siren of the primary school sounded, Mick nearly hit the deck.

‘When was the last time you went to the cop shop, Mick?’ Kos’s eyes narrowed.

Mick looked like he’d been bitten, he wanted to fight on even though it was pointless, ‘just call the brass already.’

‘You’d probably stick it on us.’

He glanced off into infinity for a moment. He’d do his best. I figure he then decided he had nothing to lose, because he spat on the ground and then looked up at the sky, appearing to curse it in his mind, and then he confessed,

‘The patrols are getting tighter. I don’t know where they get the resources. They’ve assembled a fleet of police circling the entire coast from Hillarys to Mandurah, the waves are churning from the enthusiasm of their outboard motors, and I can’t get anything past them. I tried a couple of weeks back and I lost a boat. Can you imagine that?

‘I spend months co-ordinating the movements of commodities out of Asia just to have them sunk a few hundred metres from some douche’s beach house. I don’t know why I’m in this business. It’s too much stress on the nerves! I can’t take the pressure anymore, I’m getting shingles—look.’

Kos and I took a step back.

Mick continued on, unfased, ‘we were smuggling in electronics—computer parts—it seems people have located better software for all of their terminals, and most of those terminals need a bit more … oomph if you get what I mean. We developed a contact in Taiwan and we managed to march all of this stuff through Indonesia without losing too much, loading it onto tankers that were to be stationed off here, off the coast, for a few weeks at a time. We had to keep paying people at every step of the way, everyone wanted in, everyone wanted a little bit. More often than not the real costs we incurred were borne because we had to pay off the police. Time and time again the poking beavers would get tipped off by a rat we’d refused to take on. The only reason we didn’t turn over the merchandise was because we thought all of the trouble was worth it. We thought that if we laundered all of the circuit-boards and network adaptors enough, we might even be able to get what we were transporting into some of the regular outlets. We honestly thought we had a chance on this; I would never have extended myself this far because this job—and you’ve got to admit it—was huge.

‘Things started to go wrong—somewhat cruelly—just when the time was right. When the tankers in which we had stashed all of the computer parts arrived off the coast, the crew stayed on board for a few days, mulling over everything, checking pressure gauges, clanging metallic things with other metal things. I heard all this from the stern as we waited by the ships every night, anxious for a chance, surveying everything, scanning their telemetry transmissions. Then, finally, like the shining golden fleece the entire crew embarked from the vessel, we couldn’t believe our luck. We busted in there like heroes, and if it had been possible to laud our success prematurely by casting our contraband up into the air and having it fall down, raining around us, we would’ve done that.

‘We had only just secured the first part of our load when some competition arrived. We get trouble from these sneaker-wearing Mafioso tweakers who always manage to swoop down on us while we’re taking care of something. These clowns have gargantuan motor-boats that rise out of the murky tributaries like the jaunty teeth of some great big sunken mother-in-law that spins around in the middle of the swan river, itching to drag you down into the depths. We heard the whining of their boats from inside the tanker’s hull, and we were soon engaged in this ridiculous gun-battle that drew the police in. We must have sunk ourselves because we feared getting caught by the authorities here more than anywhere else. You can’t buy these guys here, they’re zealots, evangelists. I tried to buy them once and the whole thing got pretty hairy, I barely escaped from that situation.

‘I don’t know what struck so much fear into us that night, we should not have fallen into the trap that was engaging that gang. It seemed we did so out of paranoia, not because we loved our property—hah!—so much, but because it was instilled in us by the night. The moon seemed to wink this treacherous glint at us as we boarded the big tanker. As we escaped from the police, but before we dragged ourselves onto the shores of some dog-walking beach, that treasonous moon revealed something to us. Two of my men were shot dead that night, and I didn’t think anything of their deaths, but I saw the aftermath of a killing I’ll never forget, swimming for my life in that chilly ocean. The moonlight lit up the water-bed below us, and we passed over the body of a guy who had been tossed into the water set into a concrete block.

‘When I saw that my already adrenaline-fuelled swimming-strokes carried me fidgeting to dry land. I’ve been spooked ever since; I’m convinced that the water patrols would have found the body, waving with the currents of the water for everyone to see. They might link it to us: what if the man had only just been murdered there? The authorities, once they dredged it up, would almost certainly conclude that our boat was big enough to facilitate such a thing.

‘When I said something went down, that’s what I meant. I was referring to that.’

We wasted no time, ‘a couple of your guys were killed?’

‘Yeah, shot on the deck of the tanker,’ Mick replied, confused.

‘You might’ve shot one of the guys from the gang, or maybe even the police.’

‘The guy in the concrete was different. I do acknowledge that I would feel immensely satisfied in topping some brass, and that doing so would be very dangerous, but this man on the bottom of the ocean really[B10] is different. There was something behind the murder, it stood for something—the sunken floating body is a talisman or a relic for something. I can’t imagine what the guy did but it must’ve been right up there.’

Most of the appreciation society’s band had assembled on the threshold of the car-park as it bordered adjacently to the RSL club, watching nervously the end of the conversation Mick, Kosciuszko and I had been having. Kos and I finally noticed them, pacing on the spot from foot to foot, not knowing what to think, but at the same time imagining the worst. We had been watching Mick intensely as he had been gesticulating throughout his story; I imagine we looked like stalkers.

We instinctively turned to leave, and Mick asked me, ‘where’re you staying?’

‘With Kos.’

Mick, not disingenuously, took some time to think this arrangement over, ‘okay. Kos, aren’t you…’

‘Between…’ Kos wobbled a hand palm down. Kos was always between women. He was between everything, Kos was the jack of all trades. In contract, Mick was always in the middle of everything. There’s a difference between being between things and being in the middle of them, the former has got to mean Kos can’t ever seem to engage with anything, the latter obviously being the opposite: Mick can’t worm his way out of anything, constantly burrowing into life’s minutia.

‘If you guys need…’ Mick seemed to have killed the beast by getting his story off his chest.

‘Okay.’

We had a quiet drive back that afternoon, Kos and I had most likely put a dampener on things. I stared at the peeling upholstery for most of that ride before John piped up,

‘Friend of yours?’

‘Our older brother.’

‘Ah!’ John sat back, relieved. As he relaxed, so did everyone else. In fact the cards were brought out and the bets, it seemed, had come back on.

Nico leaned over, kindly coughing coal-fired choke into our faces, ‘I had a big public fight with my cousin once, and we did it in a bar. I can’t remember what the hell we beat each other’s brains out over, but we haven’t talked since.’

‘That’s because you’re a thug,’ Jürgen chuckled in the driver’s seat.

A dastardly frog-like smile plastered itself on Nico’s tobacco-stained face, this comment transporting him elsewhere, back, probably forty years, maybe back to his mother’s old cooking, maybe back to that frenzied fight.

‘We fought with whatever we could get our hands on,’ Nico could barely cover his wooden teeth. ‘I used to club people with glass jugs; they made my favourite sound, against people’s faces.’

Before either of us had to deal with the way things were going with Nico, Jürgen called out again, ‘what does he do?’

‘He’s a crook.’

‘Looked like a crook.’

Nothing happened for a while, following that run-in with Mick at the RSL. Trouble really reared its ugly head about a month and a half after; it felt like everything was happening at once. We had spent a lazy afternoon at the hall with John, who was spinning tall stories for both of us brothers, Manny and Mrs Strickland. We were in the kitchen, smeared on its tiled surfaces, slumped all over the place, smoking like we were greased engines that belonged at the speedway. Mrs Strickland was doing some dishes. She was staring out of the tiny window there, out into the backyard, watching the weeds roast in cereal. She slopped the dishwater slowly, meditating on something as we made right fools of ourselves. She would say something every now and then, parrying someone’s light-hearted insult with a pun, pushing one of us aside just as frequently to read the innards of a cupboard.

When she finished she disappeared. She didn’t say she was coming back—she just left the kitchen, leaving us unsupervised and able to get into the drinks fridge. The conversation finished as the sun began to turn deep orange on the back fence, and we started to wonder where Mrs Strickland had gone. I found her in the study, out the front, pouring over bank-books and receipts, and I was soon joined by the rest of us. We watched her furtively as she sat there flipping pages and shaking her head. The study was as dim as you could get it with the late sun pounding its heavy curtains. The woman used her x-ray vision to read all of those documents, and she, like the study’s back wall, was made to be glowing by that sun.

We were caught out principally because the combined pressure of our clandestine glaring caused her to become aware of our presence.

‘Gosh I could feel my neck getting hot,’ she yelled, tipping her chair over. ‘Grown men acting like children!’

She’d been counting the appreciation society’s pennies. The society had barely been able to pay Kosciuszko for his efforts, because we accepted, in part, payment for our work in the form of music lessons. Jürgen had also mortgaged the place years ago, the terms of the instrument, Mrs Strickland told to us, were to her mind,

‘the most fanciful I’ve ever seen. The bank took extreme caution upon giving the loan when they were told that it was being paid off from proceeds earned by performing music. The money-lenders really got the upper hand with this one,’ she waved a curling wad of paper with her left hand. ‘We’ve never been late on our repayments, but I fear we’re heading towards making a default. Even though it wasn’t much—and you two shouldn’t take this as any sort of slight against either of you—that back door we had put in has put us on a crash course for something awful.

‘We’re going to lose everything,’ looked at us all. ‘Unless we find a lot of money very soon.’

I can still remember feeling my heart thumping in my ears and my extremities, trying not to keel over in front of the study doorway. I balanced on my feet as if they were stilts, tottering around, waiting to crash. My short-lived world was crumbling. The hall and its’ members had received a part of me, working and performing there. Some stiff in a suit with shoulder-pads loomed over all of this now, the trills of the clarinets. Mrs Strickland’s off-hand assessment of me sums it up best: I was a child, who was contemplating his recently-received fairground balloon bursting, little bits of wet rubber flecking everywhere all at once. The impending mortgage default was something pressing absently on its surface, the pop would be invariably the gears of the bank: the phone-calls first inside the offices, then from inside straight to Jürgen’s ear, then the forms, maybe even some powdered wigs if we struggled. Either way there would be suits on the front lawn, no stopping it. I feared this happening unlike anything I had ever felt in my entire life.

This might have been the first time I was ever not selfish, although I’m not sure how much empathy you could say I was showing at that moment. I think much like a child without a balloon, I was more shocked about losing something than worried about the plight of anyone else.

My[B11] memory fades out here. I could’ve fallen over and become unconscious at that point, but I believe this has more to do with what happens later. From my view of the small warm room I find myself standing on shore at City Beach, at night in a storm. To my left is a groyne, at out in the churning waters float thousands of wooden televisions, bobbing in the water. The ocean, pitch-black inky stuff, is oily on their laminated wood. Rivulets of the poisonous-looking liquid stream off their peeling laminated chassis, clinging to areas on the tube screens.

Lightning rides off in the distance, and when it strikes the water, the water lights up like a mirror; the tee vees turn on and shoot grey columns of pictures of bounding phantoms against the waterbed, clouds, the beach. It’s not possible to hear the sky’s thunder over the roar of the televisions when this happens, the sounds of the images of the creatures are too loud: bounding! bounding!

All sense of time seems to leave me when I put my mind to this recollection (hallucination?). My [B12] stomach is/moves upwards, and I’m thrown into the world on the phosphorescent screens. It’s a dark park with wet grass, invisible black clouds groaning silently and yet with a present existence, overhead, and the phantoms that were moving as projections before, outside the phosphor world are real, now. They are big grey dogs, galloping in perfect lines past me. All around the border of the park prickle pin-pricks of light that I cannot reach, and the dogs run into the regularly-distanced points of luminescence. The dogs kick up the water on the blades of grass as they thunder on the ground, and the stench of their breath is unbearable. The silence of the park, apart from the incessant bounding, and the dull glow from the unreachable (assumedly) incandescent lights cause the glinting eyes of the dogs to take my interest time after time when I set my mind to this stream of suspended sanity.

In the beady eyes of the dogs lingers the raucous shuddering of a train traversing cliffs near the sea. The sea is populated with the televisions, smashing together in the water, full of chop, way below the train-tracks. When I reach the train I am suddenly aware that I have been moving in a specific path through the reflected images: into each of them; at the same time cross-sectional to them, disturbingly perpendicular to their self-containment. The train is corroded from the sea-shore air, and it leaves the tracks and flies into the air, and my vision transcends into another dimension:

I now see the road I have taken from ‘the top’: a line through the middle of three circles, which, paradoxically, extends to the circle through which I view these three circles.

This is when I am returned to my ‘normal’ memories—I am plunged backwards to the stormy beach with the tee vees, like a the images on a videotape in reverse, and I am flecked with the spray of the salt-water waves—when Mick, Kos and I all went out on a motor-boat off the coast to look for the sunken, waving body on the bottom of the ocean. We found it easily, as it flashed at us in the moonlight. I’m sure anyone could have been able to find because the rotting body was like a mirror for that silken moonlight, somehow sterilising and legitimising the wretched corpse; if it hadn’t been for the moon, I would not have been able to look upon the woman. It was a woman, not a man, contrary to Mick’s observations.

Kos had brought some goggles

Chapter Two: Following All Those Profits Lost

[B1]31-10-11

[B2]2-11-11

[B3]3-11-11

[B4]6-11-11

[B5]7-11-11

[B6]8-11-11

[B7]9-11-11

[B8]10-11-11

[B9]11-11-11

[B10]12-11-11

[B11]6-12-11

[B12]13-12-11