1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 1,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
In "Socialism and the Social Movement in the 19th Century," Werner Sombart meticulously examines the historical and sociopolitical evolution of socialism, intertwining its ideological roots with broader social movements that shaped the era. Sombart's scholarly approach combines rigorous analysis with a narrative style that makes complex socio-economic theories accessible to the informed reader. By situating socialism within the tumultuous backdrop of 19th-century industrialization, he elucidates the transformative impact of economic forces on collective social political consciousness, demonstrating how these movements paved the way for contemporary ideologies. Werner Sombart, a distinguished German economist and sociologist, was at the forefront of modern sociology. His extensive knowledge of economic theory, coupled with his keen interest in social phenomena, fueled his desire to explore the interplay of economic factors and social change. Sombart's position as a critical observer of his time, grappling with the challenges posed by capitalism and social strife, significantly informed his reflections in this pivotal work. This book is essential for scholars and students of social and economic history, as well as for anyone interested in understanding the roots of contemporary political ideologies. Sombart's insights into the dynamics of socialism offer valuable perspectives that resonate with ongoing social movements today, making it a compelling read for those seeking to comprehend the past's influence on current societal structures.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Ähnliche
Socialism and the Social Movement in the 19th Century
Table of Contents
CHAPTER IToC
WHENCE AND WHITHER
Goethe, Urworte.
When Karl Marx began a communistic manifesto with the well-known words, "The history of all society thus far is the history of class strife," he uttered, in my opinion, one of the greatest truths that fill our century. But he did not speak the whole truth. For it is not fully true that all history of society consists exclusively in struggle between classes. If we would put "world history" into a single phrase we shall be obliged, I think, to say that there is an antithesis around which the whole history of society turns, as around two poles: social and national—using the word national in the widest meaning. Humanity develops itself into communities, and then these communities fight and compete with each other; but always within the community the individual begins to strive for elevation over others, in order, as Kant once expressed it, to make distinction of rank among his fellows, whom he does not like, from whom, however, he cannot escape. So we see on the one side the exertion of the community for wealth, power, recognition; and on the other side the same exertion, by the individual, after power, wealth, honour. These, as it seems to me, are the two matters which in fact fill all history. For history begins as this antithesis unfolds itself. It is merely a figure of speech, and you must not be shocked by the harsh expression, as I say that human history is a fight either for food division, or for feeding-place, upon our earth. These are both great contradictions which constantly emerge, which invariably control mankind. We stand to-day at the conclusion of an historic period of great national pride, and in the midst of a period of great social contrasts; and the varying views, world-wide in their differences, which obtain day by day in different groups of men, all lead back, as it seems to me, to the alternative, "national or social."
Before I now proceed with my theme, "Socialism and the Social Movement in the Nineteenth Century,"—that is, to one member of this antithesis, the social,—I would first suggest the question: "What is a social movement?" I answer: By a social movement we understand the aggregate of all those endeavours of a social class which are directed to a rational overturning of an existing social order to suit the interests of this class. The essential elements in every social movement are these: First, an existing order in which a certain society lives, and particularly a social order which rests chiefly upon the manner of production and distribution of material goods as the necessary basis of human existence. This specific system of production and distribution is the point of issue for every social movement. Secondly, a social class which is discontented with the existing conditions. By a "social class" I understand a number of similarly interested persons, especially persons who are similarly interested in economic matters—the distinctive point; that is, of men who are interested in a specific system of production and distribution. We must, in understanding any social class, go back to this economic system; and we should not allow ourselves to be blinded or confused by the inbred notions of certain classes. These prepossessions, which frequently control, are only bulwarks of classes differing economically. And, thirdly, an aim which this class, discontented with the existing order of things, holds up to reach; an ideal, which presents compactly all that for which the society will agitate, and which finds its expression in the postulates, demands, programmes of this class. In general, where you can speak of a social movement you find a point of issue, the existing social order; a supporter of the movement, the social class; an aim, the ideal of the new society.
In what follows I shall attempt to give some points of view for an understanding of a specific—the modern—social movement. But what do we mean by the phrase "to understand a social movement"? This: to comprehend the social movement in its essential historic limitations, in its causal connection with historic facts out of which, of necessity, that is produced which we describe as a social movement. That is, to comprehend why specific social classes are formed, why they present these particular points of opposition, why especially a pushing, aggressive social class has, and must have, that particular ideal for which it reaches. We mean, above all, to see that the movement springs not out of the whim, the choice, the malevolence of individuals; that it is not made, but becomes.
And now to the modern social movement. How is it to be characterised? If we would hold fast to those elements which constitute every social movement, we must describe the modern social movement on two sides: according to its aim, and according to the class that supports the movement. The modern social movement is, from the standpoint of its aim, a socialistic agitation, because, as will be shown, it is uniformly directed to the establishment of communal ownership, at least of the means of production; that is, to a socialistic, communal order of society in place of the existing method of private ownership. It is characterised, on the other side, in accordance with the adherents of the movement, by the fact that it is a proletarian agitation, or, as we customarily say, it is a working-men's movement. The class which supports it, upon which it rests, which gives to it the initiative, is the proletariat, a class of free wage-workers.
And now we ask the question: Is it possible to distinguish those circumstances which would make such a movement evidently a necessary historic development? I said that the social movement has, as its supporters, the modern proletariat, a class of free, lifelong wage-workers. The first condition of its existence is the rise of this class itself. Every social class is the result, the expression, of some specific form of production; the proletariat, of that form of production which we are accustomed to call capitalistic. The history of the rise of the proletariat is also the history of capitalism. This latter cannot exist, it cannot develop, without producing the proletariat. It is not now my purpose to give to you a history of capitalism. Only this much may be presented for the understanding of its nature: the capitalistic system of production involves the co-operation of two socially separated classes in the manufacture of material goods. One class is that which is in possession of the matter and means of production, as machines, tools, establishments, raw material, etc.—the capitalistic class; the other class is that of the personal factors of production, the possessors only of workman's craft—the free wage-workers. If we realise that all production rests upon the union of the material and the personal factors of production, then the capitalistic system of production distinguishes itself from others in that both the factors of production are represented through two socially separated classes which must necessarily come together by free consent, the "free wage compact," so that the processes of production may take place. The method of production thus formed has entered into history as a necessity. It arose in that moment when demand had become so strong that the earlier methods of production could not longer satisfy the enlarging conditions, in the time when new and large markets were opened. It appeared originally solely with the historic task of implanting the mercantile spirit of manufacture for the maintaining of these new markets. The mercantile talent forces itself on as leader of production and draws great masses of mere hand-workers into its service. It then becomes yet more of a necessity as the development of the technique of production complicates the whole operation so greatly that the combination of many kinds of work in one product is unavoidable; especially since the introduction of steam for the production and transportation of goods. The supporters of the capitalistic method of production are, as a class, the bourgeoisie, the middle class. How gladly would I speak of the great historic mission which this class has fulfilled! But again I must content myself with this mere reference, that we see this historic mission in the wonderful development which this class has given to the material forces of production. Under the compulsion of competition, lashed by the passion of accumulation which enters with it into modern history, this class has wrought into reality for us those fairy tales of the Thousand and One Nights, those wonders in which daily we rejoice, as through the streets or the industrial expositions of our great cities we stroll, as we talk with the antipodes, as we sail in floating palaces over the ocean, or bask in the glory of our luxurious parlours. But our point is this: the existence of this capitalistic system of production is the necessary condition for that class which is the supporter of the modern socialistic movement—the proletariat. I have already said that the proletariat follows the capitalistic form of production as its shadow. This scheme of production cannot exist otherwise, cannot develop itself otherwise, than under the condition that, subject to the command of individuals, troops of possessionless workers are herded in great undertakings. It has as a necessary presupposition the rending of all society into two classes: the owners of the means of production, and the personal factors in production. Thus the existence of capitalism is the necessary preliminary condition of the proletariat, and so of the modern social movement.
But how stands it with the proletariat? What are the conditions under which the working-class lives? And how has it come to pass that out of these conditions those particular tendencies and demands have arisen which, as we shall find, have come out of this proletariat? Usually, when one is asked concerning the characteristics of the modern proletariat, the first answer is—the great misery in which the masses are sunk. That may pass with some qualification; only it must not be forgotten that misery is not specifically confined to the modern proletariat. Thus, how miserable is the condition of the peasants in Russia, of the Irish "rack-rent" tenants! There must be a specific kind of misery which characterises the proletariat. I refer, here, particularly to those unhealthy work-places, mines, manufactories with their noise and dust and heat, that have arisen with the modern method of production; I think of the conditions produced by these methods of production which tend to draw into the work certain categories of workers,—as women and children; I think further of how the concentration of population in industrial centres and in the great cities has increased the misery of external life for the individual. At all events, we may consider the intensification of misery as a primary cause for the growth and insistence of new thoughts and new feelings. But that is not the most important point, when we ask after the essential conditions of existence of the proletariat. It is much more characteristic that in the moment when great masses sink into misery, upon the other side, shining like a fairy's creation, the millionaire arises. It is the contrast between the comfortable villa and elegant equipage of the rich, the magnificent stores, the luxurious restaurants which the workman passes as he goes on his way to his manufactory or workshop in the dreary part of the city; it is the contrast in condition which develops hate in the masses. And that, again, is a peculiarity of the modern system, that it develops this hate and permits hate to become envy. It seems to me that this happens principally for the reason that those who display this grandeur are no longer the churches or the princes; but that they are those very persons on whom the masses feel themselves dependent, in whose direct economic control they see themselves, in whom they recognise their so-called "exploiters." This definite modern contrast is that which principally excites the intensity of this feeling of hate in the masses. Yet one thing further. It is not merely the miserable condition, the contrast with the well-to-do; but another terrible whip is swung over the heads of the proletariat—I mean the uncertainty in their lives. Also in this we have to do with a peculiarity of modern social life, if we rightly understand it. Uncertainty of existence is indeed elsewhere: the Japanese trembles at the thought of the earthquake that may at any moment overwhelm him and his possessions; the Kurd is afraid of the sand-storm in summer, of the snow-storm in winter, which blight the feeding-place for his flocks; a flood or drought in Russia may rob the peasant of his harvest and expose him to starvation. But what constitutes the specific uncertainty of the proletariat, which expresses itself in the loss of wage and work, is this, that this uncertainty is understood as a result not of the natural causes of which I have spoken, but of the specific form of organisation of economic life—that is the chief point. "Against nature no man can assert a right; but in the constitution of society lack becomes immediately a form of injustice done to one or another class"—(Hegel). Further, this uncertainty as to matters of nature leads to superstition or bigotry; but this social uncertainty, if I may so express it, develops a sharpening and refinement of judgment. Man seeks after the causes which lead to this uncertainty. It works simply an increase of that feeling of resistance which grows up in the masses; it permits hate and envy to rise threateningly. Here, then, is the ground on which the revolutionary passions, hate, envy, insubordination, grow in the modern proletariat: peculiar forms of misery, the contrast of this wretchedness with the glitter of the bread-masters, the uncertainty of existence, supposed to arise out of the forms of organisation of economic life.
In order now to be able to understand how these growths have pressed forward into the peculiar manifestations which characterise the modern social movement, we must realise that the masses which we have learned to know in the position thus described have been developed as if by magic, have not slowly grown into this condition. It is as if earlier history had been completely effaced for millions of men. For, as the presupposition of capitalism is combination in large operations, there is involved in this also the accumulation of masses of men in cities and centres of industry. This massing, however, means nothing other than this, that completely incoherent, amorphous crowds of men out of the most widely separated regions of the land are thrown together at one point, and that upon them the demand is made "Live!" This involves a complete break with the past, a tearing apart of all ties of home, village, family, custom. It means as well the overthrow of all the earlier ideals of these homeless, possessionless, and coherentless masses. This is a matter which is often underestimated. We forget that it is an entirely new life which the hordes of the modern proletariat have to begin. But what kind of a life is it? In its characteristics I find as many points of explanation for the positive construction of the proletarian world of ideas as for the destruction of all that has heretofore been dear and precious to man. I mean, the socialistic ideals of communal life and work must of necessity spring out of the industrial centres and the resorts of the working-men in the great cities. In the tenement-houses, the huge manufactories, the public houses for meetings and for pleasures, the individual proletarian, as if forsaken by God and man, finds himself with his companions in misery again together, as members of a new and gigantic organism. Here are new societies forming, and these new communities bear the communistic stamp, because of modern methods of work. And they develop, grow, establish themselves in the mass of men, in proportion as the charm of separate existence fades from the individual; the more dreary the attic room in the suburb of the city, the more attractive is the new social centre in which the outcast finds himself again treated as a man. The individual disappears, the companion emerges. A uniform class consciousness matures itself, also the habit of communal work and pleasure. So much for the psychology of the proletariat.
In order now to gain a full understanding of the modern social movement, let us look at its general time environment. Also here merely a remark or two must suffice. Perhaps this phrase will sufficiently describe the modern period: there is in it conspicuously an exuberance of life, as I think in no earlier period. A stream of vigorous life flows through modern society as at no earlier time; and for this reason a quickness of contact between all the individual members of a society is made possible now as never heretofore. This has been accomplished by the modern means of transportation which capitalism has created for us. The possibility in these days of informing oneself in a few hours concerning the occurrences throughout a great country by means of telegraph, telephone, newspaper, and the possibility of throwing great masses of men from one place to another by modern means of transportation, have produced a condition of solidarity throughout great groups of men, a sense of omnipresence, which was unknown in all earlier times. Particularly is this true in the large cities of these days. The ease of movement of masses has grown enormously. And in like manner has that grown which we are accustomed to call education—knowledge, and with knowledge demands.
With this vigour of life, however, is most closely united that which I would call the nervosity of modern times, an unsteadiness, haste, insecurity of existence. Because of the distinctive character of economic relations, this trace of unrest and haste has forced itself into all branches not only of economic but as well of social life. The age of free competition has stamped itself upon all spheres of life. Every man strives with others, no one feels himself sure, no one is contented with his condition. The beauty and calm of rest are gone.
One thing more. I will call it "revolutionism," and I mean by that term the fact that never has there been another time, like ours, of such entire change in all the conditions of life. All is in flux—economics, science, art, morals, religion. All ideas on these matters are in such a process of change that we are impelled to the delusion that there is nothing now certain. And this is perhaps one of the most important considerations for the explanation of the real meaning of modern social agitation. It explains in two ways. In it we see the reason for that destructive criticism of all that exists, which allows nothing as good, which throws away all earlier faith as old iron in order to enter with new material upon the market. Also, it explains the fanatical belief in the feasibility of the desired future state. Since so much has already changed, since such wonders, for which no one has dared to hope, have been realised before our very eyes, why not more? Why not all that man wishes? Thus the revolutionism of the present becomes fertile soil for the Utopia of the future. Edison and Siemens are the spiritual fathers of Bellamy and Bebel.
These seem to me the essential conditions under which a social movement has developed itself in this later time: the peculiar existence of the proletariat; the specific misery, contrast, uncertainty, springing from the modern economic system; a reorganisation of all forms of life, through the tearing apart of earlier relations and the upbuilding of entirely new social forms upon a communistic basis, and of new consolidations in the great cities and operations; finally, the peculiar spirit of the time in which the social movement exhibits itself, intensity of life, nervosity, revolutionism.
Now let us consider this social movement itself, in theory and practice.
CHAPTER IIToC
CONCERNING UTOPIAN SOCIALISM
"Rarely do we reach truth except through extremes—we must have foolishness ... even to exhaustion, before we arrive at the beautiful goal of calm wisdom."
Schiller, Philosophical Letters, Preamble.
