Critique as Radical Praxis

It is well-known that “being critical” is something of crucial and indeed even central importance to what “radicals,” and especially marxists, are all about. After all, one of the most well-known quotations from Karl Marx is his call for “a ruthless criticism of all that exists.” Yet more often than not what this means and how it is (to be) done is greatly misunderstood.

There are several reasons for this misunderstanding. First, it is not just radicals, and certainly not just marxists, who prize “critical thinking”: in fact, all intellectual disciplines and all kinds of mental labor require learning some form of “critical thinking,” and, because of this, workers in different fields of intellectual work will tend to understand “radical criticism” in relation to the notion of what criticism means that prevails in their field. Second, “being critical” is just as frequent a part of the “common sense” of everyday life, and in fact, common sense teaches us as much and as often about what are “critical” versus “non-critical” ways of thinking, acting, and interacting as does any form of “technical sense”; therefore, “radical criticism” may also be understood in relation to commonsensical notions of what criticism is and does. Third, and this is of key importance, it is often assumed, from the vantage point of either common or “technical” senses, and also by many radicals themselves, that the only difference in the way that radicals are critical from the way in which everyone else is critical is that radicals simply are more critical — and also, more often, and of more things — than non-radicals.

“Radical” criticism which is understood, and, more importantly than understood, practiced as simply more of the same kind of criticism as that which prevails among those working “critically” from the vantage point of non-radical common or technical senses is neither genuinely radical, nor effectively crucial — or central — to radical praxis. Radical criticism is qualitatively different from non-radical criticism. This does not mean that radical criticism bears no resemblance to non-radical criticism; on the contrary, radical criticism is a kind of criticism which develops out of a critique of the limitations of non-radical criticism, and this means that radical criticism is an attempt to supersede the limitations of non-radical criticism — in particular, the limitations of non-radical criticism that make it difficult if not impossible for this non-radical criticism either to imagine or to enable radical social change.

Radical criticism is criticism which aims to enable radical social change: change which strikes at the “root,” at the “source,” at the “structural foundations” of the social “system,” pushing change forward towards transformation of the social totality rather than mere reformation or even conservation of this existing system. The ultimate aim of radical criticism is to enable the emergence and development of a new social system — governed by a new essential logic — to replace the existing system. To be radical in today’s world, therefore, means, minimally, to work towards the transformation and replacement of capitalism with a social system that will enable the most radically progressive resolution of the principal contradictions and thereby the most radically progressive solution of the most egregious problems and the most radically progressive supersession of the most egregious limitations of capitalism: and this means the replacement of capitalism with socialism. Radical criticism must be criticism which is both first and last directed towards and genuinely capable of making a significant and substantial contribution towards this end.

Radical criticism, therefore, does not simply come to (prospective) radicals “naturally”; it must be studied and learned. A merely cognitive study of radical criticism, however, is insufficient to insure mastery: radical criticism must be learned by focusing, developing, sharpening, and refining cognitive understanding in practice. In fact, only when critique becomes a principal mode of radical praxis — and in all areas of radical activity — will the radical activist have made effective use of the real potential of critique as radical praxis.

What I propose to do in this essay is briefly to provide an introduction to critique as such a principal mode of radical praxis. My aim is to outline how to begin to go about this process. Providing such an outline involves a serious risk: the risk that this “general guide” will be used as a kind of mechanical apparatus, when my purpose is merely to enable a rudimentary understanding and to provide a provisional framework from which to begin to engage in critique. If this guide is applied as a mechanical apparatus, the “critiques” that this guide enables will tend towards an idealist (and perhaps more precisely, a rationalist) abstractness rather than a materialist concreteness.

I think it is worth taking this risk, however, because the risks of not developing a more precise and rigorous understanding of what is critique and of how to do it are worse. Too often, supposedly “radical” criticism is ineffective because it is unsystematic, undisciplined, and deficient in precision and rigor. When this is the case, “radical criticism” tends towards a largely uncritical — and also, as I shall explain, an often anticritical — mode of evaluation that is principally dependent upon moral rather than political categories. Use of these kinds of categories tends to support criticism which (idealistically) reifies its object: criticism which conceives of its object as an isolated and disconnected, fixed and frozen thing rather than a complex of relations and processes that is interdeterminately interconnected with many other complexes of relations and processes within the context of a concrete real totality. For example, Dan Quayle is mocked as simply a “stupid” and — “bigoted” — man, rather than critiqued as a man who exercises significant power (despite, or perhaps even because of his apparent stupidity) as a representative of the interests of the capitalist class. Likewise, Quayle’s attack on Murphy Brown is criticized as an example of his “stupid” inability to distinguish “fact” from “fiction” rather than contested for its reactionary political implications — delegitimation of women’s struggle for liberation from enslavement within the patriarchal family.

My point, however, is that critical praxis which refuses methodological precision and rigor tends towards eclecticism, empiricism, relativism, pragmatism, mysticism, dogmatism, and irrationalism. Radical criticism that exhibits strong tendencies in any one or more of these directions will not be able to make an effective contribution to radical social change. Nonetheless, it should be emphasized very clearly and forcefully, right at the beginning, that A CRITIQUE IS NOT A MECHANICAL EXERCISE, but rather an investigation which requires imagination and creativity as well as rigor and precision.

Criticism is, of course, something we all do — and at many different times and in many different places. Criticism also can take many different forms: we think, feel, read, write, speak, listen, act, and interact critically. Criticism is, in fact, one of the most important ways in which we engage in the world in which we live to make and re-make this world. What is criticism ? Very generally, to “criticize” is to evaluate — to judge — something according to certain standards. Commonsensically, critical judgment is often understood to be simply and entirely negative as “to criticize” is most often understood as simply involving finding fault with, or putting down someone or something, and “criticism” is often understood as merely that which points out what is “bad” or “wrong” about something. Commonsensically, to criticize capitalism, for example, would involve simply expressing the opinion that “capitalism sucks.” A critique is a more useful mode of criticism. A critique does not simply point out that “capitalism sucks.” A critique explains first, what is means by “capitalism” and by “sucks”; second, how and why capitalism sucks; and third, what can be done to transform capitalism so that the “suckiness” of capitalism is overcome.

I prefer to call “commonsensical criticism” — critical judgment which offers no explanation for its judgment — non-critical criticism. Non-critical criticism merely evinces an opinion — usually negative — rather than producing an argument for and from a position. Simply to declare that “capitalism sucks” is merely to express an opinion. An argument differs from an opinion in several ways. First, an argument explains its claim, and this involves the use of various means — for example, deductive and inductive reasoning and factual and counterfactual evidence — to support and substantiate the claim. An argument in support of the claim that “capitalism sucks” would involve explanation of the logic of capitalist development supported by reference to actual history and to real historical possibilities which demonstrate this logic at work. Second, an argument accounts for the terms and definitions it uses (it explains why it uses the particular terms and definitions it does). An argument in support of the claim that “capitalism sucks” would explain what it means by “capitalism” and, if it still wants to make a case for the claim that capitalism “sucks,” (and a rigorously theoretical argument would, of course, tend to make use of much different — much more rigorously theoretical and far less colloquial and moralistically reductive — categories than “sucks”), then also for what it means by “sucks.” Third, an argument accounts for the philosophical-ideological assumptions and presuppositions which underlie its claim, the philosophical-ideological vantage point or perspective from which these assumptions and presuppositions are derived, and the social-political (pre)conditions which make possible and which further enable the articulation and defense of this claim, from this philosophical-ideological vantage point, at the particular historical time and place in which the argument is made. An argument that “capitalism sucks” would want to explain that marxism is the scientific study and the revolutionary ideology of (the possibility of) proletarian self-emancipation, how this is so, and, in particular, what this means at this concrete moment in the historically ongoing struggle to transform capitalism into socialism. Fourth, an argument accounts for the philosophical-ideological and the social-political implications and consequences of accepting and agreeing with the claim it makes: in other words, an argument accounts for the philosophical-ideological and social-political ends it advances and the philosophical-ideological and social-political interests it serves. An argument that “capitalism sucks” would want to suggest how revelation of what capitalism really is doing, to whom and for whom, can provide at least something of the impetus for organization and mobilization of radical resistance and opposition to the interests of capital, and ultimately to the interest of capital in maintaining and reproducing capitalism. Fifth, and finally, an argument accounts for the relations — and especially any and all contradictions — that connect — and disconnect — its assumptions and presuppositions, the claim it makes, the explanation it provides in support and defense of this claim, its selection and deployment of terms and definitions, and the implications and consequences that follow from accepting and agreeing with its claim. An argument in support of the claim that “capitalism sucks” would want to show how and why even the most progressive reform within capitalism is enabled by discerning the true nature of capitalist exploitation and alienation and developing a long-term strategic perspective on what is and is not possible at this concrete historical moment in the struggle to end and overcome these problems.

In addition to non-critical criticism, I think it is useful also to distinguish another mode of evaluative praxis from genuinely “critical criticism,” and this is what I call anti-critical criticism. Anti- critical criticism does provide an explanation for the judgment it makes, and yet this is an explanation which is not only so abstract but also so partial and limited as to provide little real explanation at all: anti- critical criticism typically marshals sweepingly simplistic and reductive — and usually transhistorically essentialist — kinds of reasoning and evidence to support its claims. A common anti-critical argument against socialism is that socialism is impossible because it runs contrary to human nature: human beings are, supposedly, by nature hopelessly and inevitably, always (already and forever) essentially uncooperatively competitive, selfishly greedy, and cruelly and callously corrupt. This argument usually involves citing the entirety of hitherto recorded human history as proof without realizing that this history has not been so monolithically anti-socialistic, and, furthermore, that even if this were the case, what is and what has been is not necessarily what will or must be.

A critique attempts to judge its object on the basis of an accurate interpretation of what this object really is and does. This means that a critique aims to be scientific: it seeks to determine precisely what the object is and does, how so, and for what. Such a determination enables the critic not only to recognize the problems and the limitations inherent in the object for what and for how serious they really are, but also to recognize the contradictions inherent within the object that provide the source both of these problems and limitations and of a possible solution to these problems and an overcoming of these limitations by means of a development and transformation of possibilities inherent within the object of critique itself. A critique of capitalism, for example, will look to the principal contradictions of capitalism (especially the fundamental contradiction of capitalism, the contradiction between socialization of the forces of production and privatization of relations of production) to explain both the problems and limitations of capitalism (especially the determinate relation, within and across global capitalism, between a very few who enjoy sumptuous wealth and a great many who suffer miserable poverty) and the basis upon which these problems can be solved and these limitations overcome through a resolution of these contradictions, and thereby a transformation and supersession of capitalism (especially through the expropriation and redistribution of private wealth as the wealth of the collective whole).

A critique should be both objective and interested. It should be objective insofar as it seeks to determine what is true and what is not about its object. It should be interested insofar as its aim is not simply to explain what is and is not, but rather to point the way towards the most radically progressive possible resolution of the contradictions (and thereby the most radically progressive possible solution of the problems and overcoming of the limitations) inherent in this object. Critique is motivated by a concern to intervene in, effect, and (re)direct the course of change — change both in and of the object, and change in what the object effects as it changes. A critique, therefore, not only seeks the truth about its object, but also seeks to make use of this discernment of what is and is not true as a foundation upon which to advance a radical political agenda in relation to what should be done with or about its object so as to enable radical political ends and interests, and the ultimate end and interest of radical praxis is to enable transformation of the structural foundations of the existing social system so as to enable an exponential leap forward in the realization of human emancipation, collective equality, social justice, and ecological harmony.

The first stage of critique involves determination of the meaning of the object of critique. The meaning of an object refers to what that object is and does. The meaning of an object is a unity of its content (what it is about), its form (how it goes about this), and its purpose or function (why it goes about this, and why in this way). As an object can be and do many different things in many different ways for many different ends as part of many different relations and processes, it can mean many different things, and yet it is important to understand that meaning refers to what an object truly is and does — meaning refers to what is objectively real about an object. The different meanings that adhere to a single object always refer to what are different aspects or dimensions of its objectively real existence within different relations and as part of different processes. Meaning is, therefore, different from signification: from what an object is understood to mean, what the object “signifies.” What people think and feel about an object, even about its relation to themselves, may or may not be true. Meaning refers to what is objectively real and signification to what is subjectively imagined to be real. For example, many workers for capitalist corporations do not think they are exploited and do not feel alienated and yet they are both. What working for capital signifies to these workers is therefore not what it actually means.

Interpretation of meaning is much more complex than merely discerning what is objectively real from what is subjectively imagined to be real. Meaning must be understood concretely. This means that it is necessary to study the meaning of an object in context. In other words, because an object “is” something, moreover, ultimately only in and through the various real relations and processes in which it really “does” something, an object is only meaningful, therefore, in context, and a critique should always seek to determine the meaning of an object by inquiring into what the object does in the context of its precise, real location(s) within an historically concrete society.

Recognition of the multiplicity of meaning should not, however, be misunderstood in a relativist fashion: it is necessary to recognize the meaning of an object refers not only to the concrete forms of appearance of the object, its concrete manifestations in particular concrete situations, but also to its abstract essence (which unites in common, and more precisely governs, the ways, and the range of ways, in which the object manifests itself concretely), and to the mediations (connections and transformations) which link the essence of the object with its various concrete forms of appearance. The meaning of capitalism, for example, involves reference not only to what capitalism looks like at very particular places and times, but also to what are the fundamental laws of motion of capitalism in general, and to the ways these laws of motion are mediated through the uneven development of these laws of motion within and between various nations and regions, branches and sectors, and industries and firms.

It is, in fact, useful to inquire into the meaning of an object as it exists on — and across — multiple, different levels of natural and social reality. I suggest investigating the meaning of an object as it exists on seven general levels of meaning, inquiring into what are its specific locations, and what are its specific functions and significances, within and as a part of what specific relations and processes on each of these levels of meaning. Allow me to illustrate with the example of “capitalism” once more:

LEVEL OF MEANING 1: What does capitalism mean — what are its specific forms and effects — at the level of what is uniquely particular about the present conjuncture, the immediately here and now, i.e. in late capitalist america today?

LEVEL OF MEANING 2: What does capitalism mean — what are its specific forms and effects — at the level of what is uniquely particular to the present stage in its historical development and transformation, i.e. in late capitalism?

LEVEL OF MEANING 3: What does capitalism mean at the level of what is uniquely particular to capitalism in general as a dominant mode of social organization, as a dominant mode of articulation of the forces and relations of social production?

LEVEL OF MEANING 4: What does capitalism mean at the level of its place within the history of class society in general?

LEVEL OF MEANING 5: What does capitalism mean at the level of its place within the history of human society in general?

LEVEL OF MEANING 6: What does capitalism mean at the level of its place within the (history of the) animal world in general?

LEVEL OF MEANING 7: What does capitalism mean at the level of its place within (the history of) nature in general?

Of course, both within and between each of these levels of meaning, many other “sub- levels” are possible as well. What is important is that the critic indicate clearly at what level(s) of generality and particularity (and of abstractness and concreteness) she is working in explaining what an object means. Moreover, it is also important that she indicate what particular aspects or dimensions of reality she is concerned with at these levels and sublevels and from what particular vantage point(s) or perspective(s) she is focusing upon what her object of critique means in relation to these aspects and dimensions of reality at these levels and sublevels of meaning. The importance of working at (or across) different levels and sublevels of meaning, focusing upon different aspects and dimensions or reality at these different levels and sublevels, and working from (and moving between) different vantage points will vary both from one kind of object of critique to another kind of object of critique, and according to what objective the critic seeks to accomplish in and through her critique. A critique of how and why “capitalism sucks,” for instance, will probably want to explain how and why capitalism is dependent upon the perpetuation of exploitation and alienation of working class productive and reproductive activity. This kind of critique will probably want to work not only at level one, but also level two and level three; it will probably want to focus not only upon economic relations but also upon forms of consciousness and the relations — and mediations — between the two; and it will probably want to examine capitalist alienation and exploitation from the vantage points of both “subject” (under capitalism) and “structure” (of capitalism), of both capitalist and proletarian, of both capitalist ideology and anti-capitalist ideology, and of both capitalist subjectivity and anti-capitalist subjectivity.

In all cases, it is always important to realize that what an object is and does within and as a part of any particular relation or process — and therefore also what it means on any level and sublevel, in relation to any aspect or dimension of reality, and from any vantage point or perspective — is always, in actuality, not only multiple but also contradictory. It is particularly, important, for instance, in critiquing capitalism to be able to assess what contribution capitalism has made to the “universal” development of humanity — to progress in the development of human culture and civilization — versus what is “independent” of this universal development and, as such, functions to maintain and reproduce capitalism rather than to push forward through and beyond capitalism: here, of course, the tendency of capitalism to support socialization of the process of (social) production is “universal” while the tendency of capitalism to maintain and even greatly expand the privatization of ownership in the means and ends of (social) production is “independent.”

The actual evaluation — the judgment — of the object of critique develops immediately out of the interpretation of what the object means: critical evaluation involves assessing the object’s problems and limitations in relation to the contradictions inherent within the object which both give rise to these and to the possibility of their supersession. Interpretation should have already prepared the way for the first step in this second stage of critique: determination of what are the principal — and the most serious — problems and limitations in what the object of critique is and in what it does. What is necessary here is for the critic to account for what she seizes upon as (the most serious) problems and limitations by explaining from what vantage point, according to what standards for evaluation (of importance and seriousness), and in relation to the advancement of what ends and the service of what interests these problems are (such important and serious) problems and these limitations are (such important and serious) limitations. In the case of capitalism, of course, she would explain her commitment towards finding the way past the exploitation and alienation of labor — and the resulting destruction and dehumanization of life — which she has already shown is intrinsically indispensable to the normal workings of capitalism itself.

Because critical evaluation is not interested in merely stopping with determination of what is “bad” about or “wrong” with its object, it is necessary to move from this point to investigate the real possibilities — in the real struggle of real forces and tendencies — for resolution of the principal contradictions inherent within the object that provide the source of its problems and limitations. This requires a very precisely concrete analysis of what are and are not possible and useful sites of prospective intervention in this struggle so as to push these contradictions towards crisis and to strengthen the forces and tendencies representative of the most radically progressive resolution of these contradictions at — and beyond — their development to the point of crisis (the point in which a fundamental change in the balance or configuration of opposing forces must occur because the possibility of a continuation of the status quo has been exhausted). Upon the basis of such a concrete analysis, then, it is the final aim of the critique to intervene exactly as possible and as useful where possible and where useful both to push forward the contradictions in its object further towards crisis and to push forward the most radically progressive tendencies for resolution of these contradictions at and beyond this point of crisis. The critic pushes the most radically progressive tendencies more strongly to the fore(front), and pushes these over and against competing counter-tendencies which she at the same time attempts to push back, disrupt, and subvert. In the case of late capitalist american politics today, it is, in particular, necessary for the radical critic of capitalism to push forward, expand, enrich, and work towards the full realization of the tendencies already inherent within late capitalist america towards collectivization — and these are tendencies towards collectivization not only of relations within production but also towards collectivization of relations which precede and follow from production and which extend out of and beyond production, including tendencies towards the supersession of predominantly private with predominantly collective modes of subjectivity. In general, it is important for the radical critic to support collectivization against privatization and to push towards the (proto)socialist democratization of collective relations begun under capitalism. In the concrete reality of late capitalist america today, this also means sharply opposing tendencies supportive of the currently ongoing post-collectivist re-privatization of social welfare (“post-collectivist” re-privatization in the sense of movement towards re-privatization both “after” and “against” the establishment of a minimal welfare state as a “norm” within “modern” and “advanced” capitalist society).

Why critique — why is this so important, so crucial, so central to radical praxis ? Not because critique simply “tears apart,” or “breaks down,” but rather because critique is a principal way of producing the conditions of possibility for radical social change through intervention within and transformation of that which already exists: critique makes it possible for radical praxis to avoid an isolated, ghettoized irrelevance where radical praxis tends towards dogmatism and utopianism; critique directs the radical to work to find a way to invent the new from out of the old. Perhaps this is nowhere more eloquently and precisely stated than in Marx’s famous letter to Ruge:

We do not attempt dogmatically to prefigure the future, but want to find the new world only through criticism of the old… But if the designing of the future and the proclamations of ready-made solutions for all time is not our affair, then we realize all the more clearly what we have to accomplish in the present — I am speaking of a ruthless criticism of everything existing, ruthless in two senses: The criticism must not be afraid of its own conclusions, nor of conflict with the powers that be.

I am therefore not in favor of setting up any dogmatic flag. On the contrary, we must try to help the dogmatics to clarify to themselves the meaning of their own positions.

Nothing prevents us, then, from tying our criticism to the criticism of politics and to a definite party position in politics, and hence from identifying our criticism with real struggles. Then we shall confront the world not as doctrinaires with a new principle: “Here is the truth, bow down before it!” We develop new principles to the world out of its old principles. We do not say to the world: “Stop fighting, your struggle is of no account. We want to shout the true slogan of the struggle at you.” We only show the world what it is fighting for, and consciousness is something that the world must acquire, like it or not.

The reform of consciousness consists only in enabling the world to clarify its consciousness, in waking it from its dream about itself, in explaining to it the meaning of its own actions. Our whole task can consist only in putting religious and political questions into self- conscious human form… Our motto must therefore be: Reform of consciousness not through dogmas, but through analyzing the mystical consciousness, the consciousness which is unclear to itself, whether it appears in religious or political form. Then it will transpire that the world has long been dreaming of something that it can acquire if only it becomes conscious of it. It will transpire that it is not a matter of drawing a great dividing line between past and future, but of carrying out the thoughts of the past. And finally it will transpire that mankind begins no new work, but consciously accomplishes its old work… the work of our time [is] to clarify to itself [to the world]… the meaning of its own struggle and its own desires. This is work for the world and for us. It can only be the work of joint forces. It is a matter of confession, no more. To have its sins forgiven, mankind has only to declare them to be what they really are.” (Letter to Arnold Ruge, Marx-Engels Reader 13-15).