Marx, Weber and Foucault (Part Two)

I just finished working on two essays for my Modernist Political Theory class with Prof. James Ingram at the University of Oregon. This is the second half of the second essay, which explores the writings of Marx, Weber and Foucault in the critique of freedom and equality. The first half of the essay is here, while the previous essay parts can be found here and here.

So how do they all agree?

To show the point, look towards Marx’s arguments. In his most well-known work, Capital, Marx makes his case against capitalism in the name of the down-trodden proletariat injured by the elite classes. He rails against the injustices committed by the system.

“We suffer not only from the development of capitalist production, but also from the incompleteness of that development. Alongside the modern evils, we are oppressed by a whole series of inherited evils, arising from the passive survival of archaic and outmoded modes of production, with their accompanying train of anachronistic social and political relations. We suffer not only from the living, but from the dead. Le mort saisit le vif!” (Marx, 218)

However, also note that he is not arguing against the idea of democracy, the form of political government, but rather against capitalism, an economic system based upon the ideal of democratic freedom. He does not want to subvert the rule of law, but rather expects capitalism to slide naturally and democratically into socialism. And he is not arguing against freedom, per se, but rather for equality.

His revolution is a bloodless one, and supported by the people. This distinction is an important one to make, and mirrored in the critiques of the other authors, because it serves to show how similar their underlying values are.

In analyzing Weber’s The Vocation Lectures, one sees an extensive argument in favor of two things: the role of science and religion in society, and increased legitimacy of political leaders. In doing so, Weber argues for a bureaucratization of politics, as seen in science and academia, and a offers a justification for elites as often existing due to inherent qualities such as competence and charisma, though he acknowledges systemic reasons as well.

“We can hear from that beautiful song of the Edomite watchman … in the book of Isaiah. “One calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night? what of the night? [sic] The watchman said, Even if the morning cometh [sic], it is still night: if ye inquire already, ye will come again and inquire once more.” … From it we should draw the moral that longing and waiting is not enough and that we must act differently. We must go about our work and meet “the challenges of the day” –both in our human relations and our vocation. But that moral is simple and straightforward if each person finds and obeys the daemon that holds the threads of his life.” (Weber, 31)

In the above passage, Weber cites a biblical passage to his students in order to promote his idea of science and politics as being vocational in nature. And although the end result of this line of thought allows the divide between the common and the elite, it stems from a belief in freedom and fulfillment, rather than some advocacy of inequality or injustice. The bureaucracy is engendered in order to protect individual freedoms from a demagogue or tyrant, not limit them for the benefit of the leaders. Like Marx, Weber only hopes to use democracy to give the public more freedom and equality, but he is similarly caught up in the difficult relationship between the two ideas acting in on a broad scale.

Finally, in his previously-mentioned works Discipline and Punish and The Birth of the Prison, Foucault seems to attempt to avoid the problems experienced by Marx and Weber, and he tries to limit the focus of his book to those who have historically lacked both freedom and equality: the criminal, the soldier and the student.

Foucault describes the historical relationship between the criminal and the state, and clearly contrasts the brutality of early times with the relative humanity of contemporary forms of punishment and incarceration. He uses the example of the prison Panopticon as a jumping off point to explore a system that promotes that impersonal equality and blind justice that was so lacking in prisons, but also in schools and military barracks.

“The panoptic modality of power – at the elementary, technical, merely physical level at which it is situated – is not under the immediate dependence or a direct extension of the great juridico-political structures of a society.” (Foucault, 221)

“There is no risk, therefore, that the increase of power created by the panoptic machine may degenerate into tyranny; the disciplinary mechanism will be democratically controlled, since it will be constantly accessible ‘to the great tribunal committee of the world’.” (Foucault, 207)

Once again, it can be seen that this author really is a proponent of democracy, though he spends much of his book outlining plans to close the fist of control around the society. His plan is centered around leveraging the democratic society at large in order to prevent abuses and mini-tyrannies. From this perspective, the Panopticon concept is an equalizer: it restricts everyone in the same manner, to prevent a small number from being especially molested.

Now that each author has been examined, it is clear that their opinions can be seen as complementary, even if they seem to be in tension and opposition at first glance. For though they disagree in the details, in doing so they also affirm the broad principles that govern a democracy: the sovereign will of the people, the rule of law, the importance of individual freedoms and collective equalities.

While they would likely never agree on their separate concerns with modern democracy, it is safe to say that their disagreements have nothing to do with the idea of democracy itself, but rather with its symptoms.

Marx, Weber and Foucault (Part One)

I just finished working on two essays for my Modernist Political Theory class with Prof. James Ingram at the University of Oregon. This is the first half of the second essay, which explores the writings of Marx, Weber and Foucault in the critique of freedom and equality. The previous essay parts can be found here and here.

“If these lines ever reach America, I am certain of two things: first, that all readers will raise their voice to condemn me; second, that many of them will absolve me in the depths of their conscience.”

- Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America

Prompt four: Marx, Weber, and Foucault argue that, despite its undeniable advantages, modern liberal democracy fails to deliver on its promise of freedom and equality. Compare their accounts of why this is, paying special attention to their comments on democracy and the rule of law. Do you think their accounts are complementary, or are they in tension?

Freedom and equality - two concepts most often considered by political scientists and philosophers (whether they are renowned authorities or argumentative students). They are simultaneously synonymous and dichotomous. With freedom must come equality, but promoting one often dampers the other. Modern liberal democracy promises an abundance of both, but the details often seem to get lost in the fine print. As such, it is often the target of critics who fault democracy as being unable to provide a desired level of either quality. And although few would return to the dictatorial style of government of old, there is certainly a wide range of proposals for change.

If my previous essay compared the method and aim of modern political criticism, then this essay is an examination of that criticism itself. All of the authors read for this term (Friedrich Nietzsche and all the rest) have explored democratic freedoms and equalities in their own way, and from very different perspectives. J.S. Mill and Alexis de Tocqueville write from the beginning of the 19^th century, when kings and emperors still ruled the world, while Michel Foucault wrote until the waning years of the Soviet Union. It comes to no one’s surprise that these authors take different perspectives on these considerations. But there is a common strain throughout their works: a certain admiration for the idea of democracy and the rule of law.

Karl Marx, Max Weber and Michel Foucault focus upon different aspects of Western democracy, but despite some tensions, their conclusions as to the future of that democracy are largely complementary. Though they take issue with certain parts of democracy, they, collectively and individually, affirm the principles for which it stands.

So how do a revolutionary, a scientist-bureaucrat and a disciplinarian come together to agree on a system that they spend so much time haranguing? It sounds like something of a bad joke. Marx, the well-known socialist, wants to up-end the system and institute a new order that promotes equality above all else; Weber counters this proposal by legitimating the hierarchy between the common and the elite; Foucault seems to take the mid-line between these two, by wanting everyone to be imprisoned equally.

Nietzsche v Foucault (Part Two)

Here is the follow-up to the previously posted essay written for my Political Theory class.

Now that the terms have been established, we continue to the heart of the discussion.

The titles of the authors’ works do well to describe their contents: Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals is relatively self-explanatory, and while Foucault’s Discipline and Punish and Birth of the Prison only tell the reader of the content of the discussion, rather than the form, his genealogy quickly becomes apparent from his historical focus and regular citation of Nietzschean language. And it is clear that along with mirroring each other’s method, the authors also share similar aims in their works: that is, to guide the reader towards a conclusion by contextualizing the debate. It is an all-encompassing style of argument, wherein the author seeks to offer the totality of societal understanding of the issue, believing that the knowledge of such will prompt the reader to hold opinions similar to the author. In this way, the aim genealogy is to provide a perspective argument where the author wins the reader by shaping their viewpoint, rather than directly changing their beliefs.

Friedrich Nietzsche, whose writings predate that of Foucault’s by some 50 years, first popularized this genealogical argument in his work. Due to this prima nature, his style is at once original and reflective of the analytical argument. At the beginning of his work he sets off with the standard mode of argument wherein you first establish the aim of the work – “We need a critique of moral values, the value of these values themselves must first be called into question.” (Nietzsche, 20) – and then conclude with a congratulatory self-pat on the back reminding the reader what the author has done.

But after doing so in the introduction, he then launches into a historical narrative which examines morality in the light of previous philosophers, the traditional struggle between the aristocrat and the plebe, and then an etymological examination of the words “good” and “bad.” It is a remarkable form of argument, which nonetheless remains persuasive at the end of the work (as the legions of youthful nihilists can attest).

“Now it is plain to me, first of all, that in this theory the source of the concept “good” has been sought and established in the wrong place: the judgment “good” did not originate with those to whom “goodness” was shown! Rather it was “the good” themselves, that is to say, the noble, powerful, high-stationed and high-minded, who felt and established themselves and their actions as good, that is, of the first rank, in contradistinction to all the low, low-minded, common and plebeian. It was out of this pathos of distance that they first seized the right to create values and to coin names for values.” (Nietzsche, 26)

By exploring the meaning behind the meaning and the context of the debate, Nietzsche achieved a cohesive argument that would be quite difficult to attain in the traditional style. ‘Proving’ nihilism to a critical audience in a debate format would be a difficult task, because it is an attack upon the basic fundaments of their character. A Grecian argument cum Plato would force the reader to question and dismiss his or her own sense of morality, a rather untenable position. But by providing that genealogy of morals, Nietzsche can contextualize his perspective and convince the reader of their similarity of viewpoint.

Michel Foucault wrote his works in the light of Nietzsche’s success, and his style of argument was strongly affected by Nietzsche’s work. But the interval had given time for Nietzsche’s acolytes to refine the perspective, which left Foucault’s Discipline and Punish and his Birth of the Prison somewhat derivative in nature, but also more strongly removed from classical argument than that of Nietzsche himself. Foucault makes no real attempt to convince the reader of any overriding thesis – other than extending this mode of thinking to the school and barracks – he only outlines his genealogy of punishment and control.

Foucault explores the history of penal reform, the slow progression from the tortuous punishment of the autocrat, to the idealistic reform and attempted rehabilitation advocated by Enlightenment philosophers, and finally to the modern system of his contemporaries, which attempted a shallower yet more over-arching form of impersonal control and punishment for the population at large. While he is less proscriptive than Nietzsche, he nonetheless clearly lays out his chosen perspective solution.

“It was not so much, or not only, the privileges of justice, its arbitrariness, its archaic arrogance, its uncontrolled rights that were criticized; but rather the mixture of its weaknesses and excesses, its exaggerations and its loopholes, and above all the very principle of this mixture, the ‘super-power’ of the monarch. The true objective of the reform movement, even in its most general formulations, was not so much to establish a new right to punish based on more equitable principles, as to set up a new ‘economy’ of the power to punish, to assure its better distribution, so that it should be neither too concentrated at certain privileged points, nor too divided between opposing authorities; so that it should be distributed in homogenous circuits capable of operating everywhere, in a continuous way, down to the finest grain of the social body.” (Foucault, 80)

The genealogy is the common link between Foucault and Nietzsche, and it serves to differentiate the two from the majority of other political scientist authors. And the system was borne out by both of them; both authors used it successfully to promote their arguments. Nietzsche’s critique of morality has been embraced by potent socio-political movements (nihilism, atheism, reformism, Nazism) since his heralded first publishing of Genealogy of Morals. Foucault’s impersonal yet hyper-vigilant system of order and punishment has been embraced by Western law enforcement throughout the world.

While it would be imprudent to lay entirety of their success at the feet of their books, it is clear that the genealogical style of argument can be powerfully persuasive, even if it is not as widely practiced as the classical confrontational style used by many other political scientist authors.

Nietzsche v Foucault (Part One)

I just finished working on two essays for my fantastic Political Science class with Prof. James Ingram, who is unfortunately heading back to Canada rather than sticking around the University of Oregon. Here is the first half of the first essay, which doubtlessly will never be read by anyone, but will make up for some of the shorter posts I've been making as of late. Hah.

“There is no such thing as absolute certainty,
But there is assurance sufficient for the purposes of human life.”

- John Stuart Mill, On Liberty

Prompt two: Nietzsche writes a ‘genealogy’ of modern morality; Foucault writes a ‘genealogy’ of modern punishment and the “modern soul.” Based on these two examples, what is ‘genealogy’? What are its main methods and aims? How does it differ from other types of political theory we have read? Does Foucault’s version of genealogy differ from Nietzsche’s?

Modernist political scientists have consistently attempted to examine the underpinnings of supposed failures in contemporary society. J.S. Mill did so by examining the dichotomous contest between the power of the state and the freedom of the individual, Alexis de Tocqueville explored the rise of the new form of democratic government presented by the United States of America, in comparison to revolutionary France. Max Weber and Karl Marx also make their arguments in support of fundamental, systemic changes to the government and societal values that form the basis of the problems they observe in society. So it can be seen that, in their works, Friedrich Nietzsche and Michel Foucault do not stray appreciably from the standard role of the modernist political scientist: a critic of the status quo. But it is their method of critique in which they are unique – for they part from the standard form of examination and attempt a genealogy. This method of argument is markedly different from the custom, as are its aims, but it also strikes upon a system of discourse that is as valuable as the classical method of debate.

Before exploring what Nietzsche and Foucault have done, what a genealogy is, we must first understand what a genealogy is not. J.S. Mill, Tocqueville and the rest can be seen as standard bearers of the customary form of literary exploration and written critical thinking. Mill identifies the principal problem(s) at hand (for example the subjection of women in society), as well as the contemporary advocates of that cause. He then uses argument and anecdote to prove his counterproposal (to include women as equal members of society without sharply defined gender roles, to continue the example).

Mill’s On Liberty is considered a sterling example of political thought, Raymond Geuss and Quentin Skinner, series editors of the Cambridge Texts in the History of Political thought, herald the work as “the most powerful defence [sic] of the freedom of the individual.” But it is important to note that the author keeps himself within the contemporary. His exploration of the past, of the history of the women’s rights movement itself, is tepid at best. Mill does not concern himself with such things, for he is quite busy taking on every facet of the argument of his chosen opponent. In doing so, Mill is utterly convincing (to this author, at least), and this style of writing is mirrored by previously mentioned authors such as Tocqueville, Weber and Marx.

Foucault and Nietzsche do not follow this line of argument. While they do examine contemporary problems, to a point, they are far more concerned with the exploration of the history of the problems, and of the previously attempted solutions to these problems, which have often existed throughout the duration of civilized society. This is their major contribution, Foucault and Nietzsche, the genealogical argument. It is one that is more focused on providing context and understanding than persuasion, and indeed it is difficult to identify the purposed solutions offered by either author. Despite this, Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals and Foucault’s Discipline and Punish and The Birth of the Prison are fascinating reads; they are major and significant explorations of the human psyche. The works attempt to lead you by the hand to the author’s conclusion, rather than the classic analytical proof of the other authors that often appears more akin to a literary press gang.