'The ambiguity and the excitement': Marxism and the state after Marx

Lenin and Gramsci

Lenin’s writings on the state can trace a strong lineage to the Marx of The Civil War in France. In The State and Revolution (1917 [1968]), regarded by Lucio Colletti as ‘by far and away his greatest contribution to political theory’ (1972: 224), Lenin draws out the implications of Marx’s writings on the Paris Commune for revolutionary strategy.

The basic theme of The State and Revolution - the one that indelibly inscribes itself on the memory, and immediately comes to mind when one thinks of the work - is the theme of revolution as a destructive and violent act... The essential point of the revolution, the destruction it cannot forgo is...the destruction of the bourgeois state as a power separate from and counterposed to the masses, and its replacement by a power of a new type. (1972: 219-20, original emphasis)

Lenin’s narrow definition of the state as an essentially coercive apparatus is reflected in his vision of revolution as a violent act in which the repressive might of the state is pitched against the massed ranks of the proletariat. Its consequences, of historical proportions, are all too apparent. Thankfully they may now be viewed with the benefit of some degree of hindsight. In contrast, Gramsci’s more inclusive definition of the state leads him in a somewhat different direction.

Gramsci’s distinctiveness and enduring significance lies in his attempt to incorporate human subjectivity as a dynamic agent within the Marxist philosophy of history (Femia 1981: 1). His work thus marks a clear break with the economism and crude reductionism that had come to characterize the Marxist tradition since the death of Marx. The central question that he poses, and with which contemporary Marxist theorists continue to grapple, is this - what gives capital the capacity to reproduce and reassert its dominance over time despite its inherent contradictions? His search for an answer leads him to define a new concept (or, more accurately, to redefine an old concept) - that of hegemony; and to extend the Marxist definition of the state to include all those institutions and practices through which the ruling class succeeds in maintaining the consensual subordination of those over whom it rules (Gramsci 1971: 244, 262). The key to Gramsci’s theoretical toolbox is the concept of hegemony. With this he demonstrated that a dominant class, in order to maintain its supremacy, must succeed in presenting its own moral, political and cultural values as societal norms; thereby constructing an ideologically-engendered common sense. Yet, as Miliband (1994: 11) observes, hegemony is not merely about instilling the values of the ruling class within civil society. Increasingly,

it must also be taken to mean the capacity of the ruling classes to persuade subordinate ones that, whatever they may think of the social order, and however much they may be alienated from it, there is no alternative to it. Hegemony depends not so much on consent as on resignation.

For Gramsci then the obstacles to class consciousness are far greater than Lenin envisaged (and, it might well be argued, have become far greater since the time of Gramsci). Whilst there is football on TV, the revolution is likely to be postponed indefinitely. As Gramsci’s biographer, Giuseppe Fiori (1970: 238), comments:

the [capitalist] system’s real strength does not lie in the violence of the ruling class or the coercive power of its state, but in the acceptance by the ruled of a ‘conception of the world’ which belongs to the rulers.

Gramsci’s central contribution is to insist that the power of the capitalist class resides not so much in the repressive apparatus of the state as an instrument of the bourgeoisie - however ruthless and efficient that might be - but in its ability to influence and shape the perceptions of the subordinate classes, convincing them either of the legitimacy of the system itself or of the futility of resistance. Given that Gramsci was, at the time, languishing in a cell in one of Mussolini’s prisons and thus, presumably, only too well aware of the ruthless efficiency of the state’s coercive arm, this insight was all the more impressive. It led him to a highly significant observation and one for which he is rightly famous:

In the East the state was everything, civil society was primordial and gelati­nous; in the West, there was a proper relation between state and civil society, and when the state trembled a sturdy structure of civil society was at once revealed. The state was only an outer ditch, behind which there stood a powerful system of fortresses and earthworks. (Gramsci 1971: 238)

The implications of this for socialist strategy are highly significant, and Gramsci was not slow to point them out. Whereas in the East (Russia) where civil society was ‘primordial and gelatinous’ a war of manoeuvre - a ‘frontal assault’ on the state - was indeed appropriate, in the West such a strategy was doomed to failure. For in societies like his own the strength of the bourgeoisie lay not in the coercive resources that it could muster, but in its ability to legitimate its domination within civil society, thereby securing passive acquiescence. Thus before the proletariat could challenge the state it would first have to wage a successful war of position - a ‘battle for the hearts and minds’ within civil society.

Structuralism versus instrumentalism in the ‘Miliband-Poulantzas debate'

If the historical significance (however unfortunate) of Lenin’s writings on the state, and the theoretical and strategic prescience of Gramsci’s work, should guarantee them both a place in any discussion of the Marxist theory of the state, then the same cannot be said of the (in)famous Miliband- Poulantzas debate (Poulantzas 1969, 1976; Miliband 1969, 1970, 1973; Laclau 1975). Indeed its importance lies neither in the quality of the theoretical exchange, nor in its historical significance, but rather in the problems it reveals in Marxist conceptions of the state and in its symbolic status as a point of departure for many contemporary developments. The debate sees neither protagonist at his brilliant theoretical best. Yet it does well display the extremes to which Marxist state theorists seem, on occasions, inexorably drawn.

It takes the form of a dense theoretical exchange, initially polite but increasingly ill-tempered, about the source of power within contemporary capitalist societies and the relationship between the ruling class and the state apparatus in the determination of the content of state policy. Is the modern state a state in capitalist society or a capitalist state, and what difference does it make anyway?

Poulantzas’ opening salvo (1969) takes the form of a detailed textual critique of Miliband’s path-breaking The State in Capitalist Society (1969). Poulantzas notes the absence (excepting the work of Gramsci) of a systematic attempt to formulate a Marxist theory of the state and praises Miliband for his attempts to fill this theoretical vacuum as well as his devastating critique of the bourgeois mythology of the state.

This point lies at the heart of the debate. Yet from here on it degenerates into a somewhat crude and polarized struggle between instrumentalism (Poulantzas’ caricature of Miliband’s position) and structuralism (Miliband’s caricature of Poulantzas’ position). Ironically, in the debate itself (though not in their more thoughtful work), both protagonists come close to living up to the crude parodies they present of one another.

Instrumentalism, as we have seen, tends to view the state as a neutral instrument to be manipulated and steered in the interests of the dominant class or ruling ‘elite’ (the term Miliband deploys). Its basic thesis is that the modern state serves the interests of the bourgeoisie in a capitalist society because it is dominated by that class. Such a perspective asserts the causal primacy of agency (the conscious actions of individuals or social forces) over structure. In the determination of state policy, the personnel of the state are thus accorded primacy over the state’s form and function (as a capitalist apparatus).

An instrument has no will of its own and thus is capable of action only as the extension of the will of some conscious actor. To understand the state as an instrument of the capitalist class is to say that state action originates in the conscious and purposive efforts of capitalists as a class.

Instrumentalism (as expressed in the work of Domhoff and the early Miliband) may thus be regarded as agency- or personnel-centred, and as expressing a simple view of the relationship between the state apparatus and the ruling-class - the latter is an instrument of the former (see Table 4.1). The instrumentalist thesis can be summarized in terms of its answers to three questions:

Q: What is the nature of the class that rules?

A: The capitalist class rules and is defined by its ownership and control of the means of production

Q: What are the mechanisms that tie this class to the state?

A: Socialization, interpersonal connections, and networks. The capitalist class uses the state as an instrument to dominate the rest of society

Q: What is the concrete relationship between state policies and ruling class interests?

A: State policies further the general interests of the capitalist class in maintaining their domination of society

(Questions from Gold etal. 1975a: 32; answers adapted from Barrow 1993: 16)

An instrumentalist theory of the state is thus a theory of the state in capitalist society (the title of Miliband’s book) as opposed to a theory of the capitalist state. For if the state in a capitalist society is indeed capitalist it is only contingently so. That the state is engaged in the reproduction of capitalist social and economic relations is not in any sense guaranteed. Rather, such a situation can arise only by virtue of the dominance of a capitalist ‘ruling elite’ within capitalist society and its personal ties to the members of the state apparatus.

In marked contrast, a structuralist position (such as that outlined by the state derivationists and by the Poulantzas of ‘the debate’) asserts the causal priority of structures over agents and their intentions. Agents are conceived of as the ‘bearers’ (or träger) of objective structures over which they can exercise minimal influence. Within such a framework, the capitalist state is viewed as a structural system with form and function determined largely independently of the aspirations, motivations and intentions of political actors or members of the dominant class. It is a theory of the capitalist state. A structuralist account, as the term would imply, is structure- or state- centred. It also expresses a simple view of the relationship between the state apparatus and the ruling-class - the former acts in the long-term collective interest of the latter (see Table 3.1).

The Miliband-Poulantzas debate did not advance the cause of Marxist theory very far. However, in pointing to the limitations of both structure- centred and agency-centred accounts, it has provided a point of departure for many recent developments in state theory. It is to the two most fruitful attempts to exorcise the ghost of the Miliband-Poulantzas debate that we now briefly turn.

Table 3.1 Beyond structuralism vs instrumentalism

Personnel-centred State-centred

(Agency-centred) (Structure-centred)

Simple view of the relationship between the state apparatus and the ruling class

Instrumentalism (Domhoff, early Miliband)

Structuralism (early

Poulantzas, state derivationists)

Dialectical view of the relationship between the state apparatus and the ruling class

The state as custodian Strategic-relational of capital (later approach (Jessop, later

Miliband, Block) Poulantzas)

Beyond structuralism versus instrumentalism: Block and Jessop

Before considering the ‘state of the art’ in the Marxist theory of the state, it is important first to note that Miliband and Poulantzas were not to remain resolute and intractable in defence of the positions to which they were drawn in the heat of the theoretical exchange. Indeed both moved towards more dialectical conceptions of the relationship between structure and agency in their later work, locating political actors as strategic subjects within complex and densely-structured state apparatuses. Thus Miliband, in an exercise of apparent contrition, concedes, ‘the notion of the state as an “instrument”... tends to obscure what has come to be seen as a crucial property of the state, namely its relative autonomy from the “ruling class” and from civil society at large’ (1977: 74). He emphasizes the need for a consideration of ‘the character of [the state’s] leading personnel, the pressures exercised by the economi­cally dominant class, and the structural constraints imposed by the mode of production’ (73-4; see also 1994: 17-18). Such observations are more systematically developed in the work of Fred Block (1987a, 1987b).

Block’s concern is to demonstrate how, despite the division of labour between ‘state managers’ and the capitalist class, the state tends to act in the long-term collective interest of capital. He begins by noting that the capitalist class, far from actively sponsoring major reforms in its long-term interest, often provides the most vociferous opposition to such measures. The capitalist class must then be regarded as simply incapable of acting in its own long-term collective interest. Yet at the same time

ruling class members who devote substantial energy to policy formation become atypical of their class, since they are forced to look at the world from the perspective of state-managers. They are quite likely to diverge ideologically from politically unengaged ruling-class opinion. (Block 1987a: 57)

This provides the basis for an answer to Block’s conundrum. State managers may in fact have interests far closer to the long-term collective interest of capital than capital itself (see also Marsh 1995: 275). Here Block points to the relationship of ‘dependency’ between state managers on the one hand, and the performance of the capitalist economy on the other. As Carnoy (1984: 218) explains, such dependency exists since

economic activity produces state revenues and because public support for a regime will decline unless accumulation continues to take place. State managers willingly do what they know they must to facilitate capital accumulation. Given that the level of economic activity is largely deter­mined by private investment decisions, such managers are particularly sensitive to overall ‘business confidence’.

The state becomes the custodian of the general interest of capital. Block manages to reconcile within a single account a sensitivity to the intentions, interests and strategies of state personnel (and their relative independence from the ruling class) with an analysis of the structural context within these strategies are operationalized and played out. His work displays a complex and dialectical view of the relationship between the state apparatus and the ruling class which escapes both the intentionalism and indeterminacy of instrumentalist accounts and the functionalism and determinism of structuralist formulations. In its overarching concern with state managers as utility-maximizing rational subject, it is nonetheless personnel- or agency-centred (see Table 3.1).

Though it represents a considerable advance on its more instrumentalist forebears, Block’s work is still ultimately somewhat frustrating. For as Finegold and Skocpol (1995: 198) point out, he remains ambiguous as to whether capitalist reforms initiated by state managers - and the subject of political pressure from both working and ruling classes alike - will always prove functional for capital in the last instance (for evidence of this ambiguity compare Block 1987a: 62, with 1987a: 66). If so, then Block’s gestural nod to the independent interests of state managers in promoting economic growth is scarcely sufficient to account for such an exact (and convenient) functional fit. If not, then how precisely is it that dysfunctional outcomes that might prove threatening to capitalist stability are avoided whilst those less damaging of the system (and, one might have thought, easier to avoid) are allowed to develop? Either way, Block seems to fall back on a residual functionalism which is not so very different from that associated with the notion of the state as an ‘ideal collective capitalist’. His achievement should not, however, be under-emphasized. Yet it surely lies more in his recognition of the need to specify the mechanisms ensuring that the actions of state personnel do not, by and large, jeopardize continued capital accumulation, than in the particular mechanisms that he proceeds to specify!

If Block’s conception of the state as custodian of capital is the dialectical heir to the legacy of instrumentalism, then Bob Jessop’s strategic-relational approach is the dialectical heir to the structuralist inheritance (see in particular Jessop 1990, 2002; for commentaries see Barrow 1993: 153-6; Bonefeld 1993; Hay 1994, 2004; Mahon 1991). More convincingly than any other Marxist theorist past or present, he succeeds in transcending the artificial dualism of structure and agency by moving towards a truly dialectical understanding of their inter-relationship. Structure and agency logically entail one another, hence there can be no analysis of action which is not itself also an analysis of structure. All social and political change occurs through strategic interaction as strategies collide with and impinge upon the structured terrain of the strategic context within which they are formulated. Their effects (however unintentional, however unanticipated) are to transform (however partially) the context within which future strategies are formulated and deployed.

Such a formulation has highly significant implications for the theory of the (capitalist) state. Jessop follows the later Poulantzas in conceiving of the state as a strategic site traversed by class struggles and as ‘a specific institu­tional ensemble with multiple boundaries, no institutional fixity and no pre-given formal or substantive unity’ (Jessop 1990: 267; Poulantzas 1978). The state is a dynamic and constantly unfolding system. Its specific form at a given moment in time in a particular national setting represents a ‘crystal­lization of past strategies’ which privileges certain strategies and actors over others. As such, ‘the state is located within a complex dialectic of structures and strategies’ (129, emphasis added). This introduces the important notion that the state, and the institutions which comprise it, are strategically selective. The structures and modus operandi of the state ‘are more open to some types of political strategy than others’ (260). The state presents an uneven playing field whose complex contours favour certain strategies (and hence certain actors) over others.

Within such a perspective there can be no guarantee that the state (and governments wielding state power) will act in the general interest of capital (whatever that might be). Indeed, insofar as the function of the capitalist state can be regarded as the expanded reproduction of capital, the specific form of the capitalist state at a particular stage in its historical development is always likely to problematize and eventually compromise this function. The state thus evolves through a series of political and economic crises as the pre-existing mode of intervention of the state within civil society and the economy proves increasingly dysfunctional. The outcome of such crises, however, and the struggles that they engender cannot be predicted in advance. For if we are to apply the strategic-relational approach, they are contingent upon the balance of class (and other) forces, the nature of the crisis itself, and (we might add) popular perceptions of the nature of the crisis (Hay 1996b) - in short, on the strategically-selective context and the strategies mobilized within this context.

Jessop’s approach then, despite its concern with state structures and their strategic-selectivity (see Table 3.1), and despite its structuralist pedigree, eschews all forms of functionalism, reductionism and determinism. The strategic-relational approach offers no guarantees - either of the ongoing reproduction of the capitalist system or of its impending demise (though, given the strategic selectivity of the current context, the odds on the latter would appear remote). It is, in short, a statement of the contingency and indeterminacy of social and political change (1990: 12-13). The casualty in all of this is the definitive (and very elusive) Marxist theory of the state. As Jessop himself notes, there can be no general or fully determinate theory of the capitalist state, only theoretically-informed accounts of capitalist states in their institutional, historical and strategic specificity (1982: 211-13, 258-9; 1990: 44; though cf. 2002).

We would appear to have come full circle. We end where we began, with a paradox: there is no Marxist theory of the state - there couldn’t be.