The German philosophical scene was clearly a bit of a welter in the mid-19th century – think of the cantina bar scene from the first Star Wars movie, only with pen-wielding philosophers rather than extraterrestrials with ray-guns. And the student of philosophy who wants to get a sense of what a wild and woolly scene German philosophy was around, say, 1846 would do well to take up this edition of The German Ideology by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels.
I would particularly recommend this Repeater Books edition of The German Ideology, edited by Tom Whyman, a British writer and philosopher who teaches at the University of Durham in northern England. My reason for this recommendation is partly because Whyman provides a thorough and helpful contextual grounding for where The German Ideology fits into the overall Zeitgeist of the mid-1800’s.
Another reason why this edition of The German Ideology stands out for me is because of the way in which Whyman as editor and commentator takes a refreshingly irreverent approach to the Marx-Engels text itself – an irreverence reflected in the book’s cover illustration that shows Marx and Engels as Punch-and-Judy puppets with clubs in hand. There is nothing here of the Marxist hagiography that one would have once seen in, say, the German Democratic Republic.
As Whyman explains in a perceptive introduction, The German Ideology was once something of a lost text within the Marx-Engels oeuvre. Marx and Engels were not able to find a publisher for the work – unsurprisingly, for reasons that will be discussed below – and The German Ideology was not published until 1932, when it was unearthed by Soviet researchers at Moscow’s Marx-Engels Institute.
Whyman sets The German Ideology within the overall German philosophical scene of the 19th century – one in which the German idealism of Immanuel Kant and the dialectical reasoning of Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel had had a decisive influence. The dialectical materialism of Marx and Engels takes shape against this background.
Briefly, Marx and Engels placed their materialist philosophy in opposition to Kantian idealism – like Aristotle in Raphael’s fresco The School of Athens (1509-11), pointing at the ground to express his belief that all things can be measured in material terms, while his old teacher Plato points at the sky to express his continual belief in un-measurable higher ideals and a “World of Forms.” And Marx and Engels felt that the Hegelian dialectical approach could be utilized to lead the thoughtful reader toward what they saw as the “higher truths” of communist ideology.
This “new abridgement” (as the book’s subtitle has it) of The German Ideology begins with an abridgement of what Marx/Engels scholars call “The Chapter on Feuerbach” – or, as editor Whyman wittily puts it, “Some Notes Which Aren’t Actually on Feuerbach, But Which Were at One Stage Fudged Into a Chapter Called Feuerbach”. The “Feuerbach” in question is Ludwig Feuerbach (1804-72), a philosopher aligned with the “Young Hegelians” who felt that Hegel’s dialectical reasoning called for a more radical questioning of society’s values (in contrast with the conservative “Old Hegelians” who felt that a proper application of Hegelian dialectics proved that society was pretty verdammt perfect as it was).
Marx and Engels seem to feel that, while Feuerbach in some ways had made a good start (he had raised plenty of German hackles with his critiques of Christianity), he hadn’t gone nearly far enough. In this chapter, the two discuss many concepts that will be familiar to readers of The Communist Manifesto, or of Das Kapital. They discuss their belief in an economic system that started with the “feudal system of land ownership [that] had its counterpart in the towns in the shape of corporative property, the feudal organisation of trades” (p. 41).
Any economic system, in their system of reasoning, works within an historical context that is centered around social class. For them, “the satisfaction of the first need (the action of satisfying, and the instrument of satisfaction which has been acquired) leads to new needs; and this production of new needs is the first historical act” (p. 45).
The division of labour, within the Marx/Engels system, “only becomes such from the moment when a division of material and mental labour appears” (p. 48). Marx sarcastically adds that “The first form of ideologists, priests, is concurrent” (pp. 48-49). The class system then takes its shape from the division of labour: “[S]ociety regulates the general production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticize after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman, or critic” (p. 52).
One of the things that struck me about The German Ideology -- and, perhaps, one of the reasons why the book never found a publisher – is Marx/Engels’s dismissive and sometimes vitriolic attitude toward everyone who’s not already on-board with them. Marx slightingly speaks of “alienation,” at one point, as “a term which will be comprehensible to the philosophers” (p. 55).
In response, editor Whyman points out that “Marx here seems to ridicule the term “alienation” (Entfremdung)”, and then adds that Marx had written his own piece on “Alienated Labour” years before, and that “Essentially, if you are ‘alienated’ from something, you lack what Marx and Engels…call ‘conscious mastery’ of it” (p. 86). I liked how Whyman could write appreciatively of what he finds intellectually invigourating about Marxian ideology, while at the same time pointing out where he feels that Marx and Engels are basically talking nonsense.
“When the crude form in which the division of labour appears with the Indians and Egyptians calls forth the caste system in their state and religion,” Marx and Engels write, “the historian believes that the caste system is the power which has produced this crude social form” (p. 60). In fact, Marx and Engels believe, what is at work in any society that has not yet achieved communism is the class system through which the members of the ruling class seek to force intellectual, ideological, and philosophical conformity on all people who do not have the good fortune to be members of the ruling class.
Marx and Engels build upon their ideas regarding a class system, writing that “The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas – i.e., the class that is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force” (p. 60). They add that the “subsuming of individuals under definite classes cannot be abolished until a class has taken shape, which has no longer any particular class interest to assert against the ruling class” (p. 67).
In the Marx/Engels system, feudalism leads to capitalism, and capitalist systems must be overthrown by socialist revolution before worldwide socialism can lead to a global communist system that, Marx and Engels believe, will bring about a truly just and fair social order. Looking at the small capitalist German states of their time (decades before the establishment of a politically unified Germany in 1870), Marx and Engels denounce the industrial capitalism of their time, writing that “in imagination, individuals seem freer under the dominance of the bourgeoisie than before, because their conditions of life seem accidental; in reality, of course, they are less free, because they are more subjected to the violence of things” (p. 68).
It will surprise no one that the future authors of The Communist Manifesto advocate for communism, writing that “Communism differs from all previous movements in that it overturns the basis of all earlier relations of production and intercourse, and for the first time consciously treats all natural premises as the creatures of hitherto existing men, strips them of their natural character, and subjugates them to the power of the united individuals” (p. 71).
If you thought that Marx and Engels were perhaps being unduly harsh on Feuerbach in the Chapter on Feuerbach, then just wait until you get to “Sankt Max” or “The Chapter on Stirner (Heavily Abridged)”. In real life, Max Stirner (1806-56) was a fairly conventional minor post-Hegelian philosopher; but to hear Marx and Engels tell it, Stirner is an outrage against common sense and the worst thing to happen to philosophy ever. They go on in that vein for page after page after Seite für Seite.
Some of it gets quite personal, in a way that seems unworthy of thinkers of Marx and Engels’ intellectual power. Sometimes they call him “Saint Max,” and at other times they refer to him as “Sancho,” as if he is a philosophical Sancho Panza taking up one quixotic post-Hegelian quest after another. At one point they denounce Stirner as “a parochial Berlin school-master…whose world extends from Moabit to Köpenick and ends behind the Hamburger Tor” (p. 159). Editor Whyman archly notes in a responding footnote that “Stirner’s life as Marx describes it would be considerably more aspirational nowadays” (p. 195), as prices in those parts of Berlin have gone up considerably since 1846.
After a while, it begins to sound as though two upper-level philosophy majors – Carly and Fred, let’s call them – are really ticked off at their classmate Max, and are blogging late into the night, fueled by double shots of Bacardi and cans of Red Bull, till their effusions sound something like this:
Dudes! Dudettes! Mad Max Stirner is at it again. OMG! He has totally gone beyond Thunderdome, with all his crap about psychological/rational egoism. Who does he think he is – the Great Humongous? But it gets worse – he gets downright Furiosa when he goes on about social institutions being all-in-the-mind. Society is a ghost? Only the individual is reality? Communism is infected with idealism and superstition? WTF! We oughtta kick his butt all the way down Fury Road. Hey, Max! Two philosophers enter – one philosopher leaves!
It's a pity that Carly and Fred feel obliged to go on with their personal denunciations for so many pages of The German Ideology, because there are places where they actually engage the ideas with which they disagree – as when Marx and Engels denounce Stirner as an example of “the German philosophical conception of history”, stating that “The speculative idea, the abstract conception, is made the driving force of history, and history is thereby turned into the mere history of philosophy” (p. 105). Carly and Fred add that this version of the history of philosophy is not even the real history of philosophy, but rather the history of philosophy “as it was understood and described by recent German philosophers, in particular Hegel” (p. 105).
One of the things I found most interesting from The German Ideology was the glimpse that the book provides into the German society of Marx and Engels’ time. Germany, at this time, was still a quarter of a century away from political unification; there was no “Germany” in those days, but rather a collection of generally poor and often combative little states where everybody spoke German.
Such unwelcome political realities no doubt influenced passages like one where, in the context of a dismissal of political liberalism, Carly and Fred denounce “the impotence, depression, and wretchedness of the German burghers, whose petty interests were never capable of developing into the common, national interests of a class, and who were, therefore, constantly exploited by the bourgeois of all other nations” (p. 107).
Marx and Engels’ critique of German society extends to the main stream of German philosophy as well: they write that “In direct contrast to German philosophy which descends from heaven to earth, here we ascend from earth to heaven. That is to say, we do not set out from what men say, imagine, conceive….We set out from real, active men, and on the basis of their real-life process we demonstrate the development of the ideological reflexes and echoes of this life-process” (p. 200). One sees here, in short, much that will re-emerge in later works like The Communist Manifesto and Das Kapital.
Reading The German Ideology, I thought about my own German ancestors, who actually lived in Berlin (my great-grandfather Albert Haspel emigrated to die Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika before the First World War). I don’t think my ancestors travelled in the same social circles as did all these philosophers – my last name, in German, means “one who makes spools for the storage of yarn” – but I couldn’t help wondering if Haspels of 175-180 years ago ever heard the names of these philosophers being bruited about in the shops and wine-bars of the Berlin of those times. The German Ideology did more for me in terms of the insights it provided into German life in the mid-19th century, than it did in terms of its expression of Marxist philosophical ideas with which I fundamentally disagree.