Sheri Berman
The aim of this book is to figure out “what’s left of the left,” that is, what the left or center- left stands for and should aspire to accomplish in our current globalized world. Globalization is seen as particularly problematic for the left because it has thrown into question many of the left’s traditional policies and principles. Many insist, for example, that the increasing mobility and inter-nationalization of capital have permanently shifted the balance of power in society in capital’s favor. As the exit options of capital grow, so does the bar-gaining power of employers vis- à- vis labor, thereby complicating efforts to regulate and control business decisions and development. Similarly, increas-ing international competition is said to make thincreas-ings like generous welfare states and high tax rates an impediment to efficiency and therefore luxuries that states can no longer afford. But perhaps more important than global-ization’s impact on policies traditionally associated with the left is its direct challenge to many of the postwar left’s key ideological principles. Among the most striking features of contemporary globalization debates is the wide-spread belief in the primacy of economics. In the world envisioned by neo-liberals, markets would be allowed as great a degree of freedom and as wide a scope as possible and states would be knocked from the “commanding heights” that they occupied during the postwar era (Yergin and Stanislaw 1998). Given the historic connection between social democracy and the use of the state to provide services, facilitate growth, and generally tame the mar-ket and temper its effects, the logic of this position is that at the beginning of the twenty- first century there is not much “left of the left” at all. In fact, a number of commentators have announced that “socialism is dead” and, as Ralf Dahrendorf pointedly insisted, “none of its variants can be revived.” It is now time, according to Anthony Giddens, to begin the process of “burying socialism.”1
This chapter argues that such pessimism and the reading of history that underlies it are not merely premature but wrong. Indeed, the very condi-tions that have led so many observers to proclaim the left’s demise provide an excellent context for its reexamination and perhaps even rejuvenation.
This is because for all its purported novelty, the issue at the heart of contem-porary globalization debates—whether states can and should dominate mar-ket forces or must bow before them—is in fact very old. Social democracy, the most successful version of leftist thinking and politics during the twenti-eth century, emerged from similar debates within the international socialist movement a century ago. It is only because these debates have been forgotten or misunderstood—at least until the onset of the global financial and eco-nomic crisis of 2008—that contemporary discussions of left and contempo-rary political alternatives are so superficial and intellectually impoverished, and why it is so important to refresh the democratic left’s collective memory about its past. This chapter will endeavor to do just that, providing a brief summary of the emergence and rationale of social democracy. It will then use this history to provide a foundation upon which to begin thinking about possible paths forward for the democratic left today.
The Origins of Social Democracy
Social democracy’s intellectual origins lie in a debate that began within the international socialist movement at the end of the nineteenth century. Like now, this was a period of rapid globalization. Spurred on by new technolo-gies in communications and transportation, capitalism had developed re-newed vigor and was rapidly spreading its tentacles across the globe. These changes made many question the “orthodox” version of Marxism that had established itself as the official ideology of much of the international socialist movement by this time.2 The most distinctive features of this doctrine (which was largely codified by Marx’s collaborator and leading apostle, Friedrich Engels, and popularized by the “pope of socialism,” Karl Kautsky) were his-torical materialism and class struggle, according to which history was pro-pelled forward not by changes in human consciousness or behavior but rather by economic development and the resulting shifts in social relationships. As Engels put it, “The materialist conception of history starts from the propo-sition that . . . the final causes of all social changes and political revolutions are to be sought, not in men’s brains, not in man’s better insight into eternal truth and justice, but in changes in the modes of production and exchange.
They are to be sought, not in the philosophy but in the economics of each par-ticular epoch” (Engels 1962, 365–66). As one observer noted, what
histori-cal materialism offered was an “obstetric” view of history: since capitalism had within it the seeds of the future socialist society, socialists had only to wait for economic development to push the system’s internal contradictions to the point where the emergence of the new order would require little more than some midwifery (Cohen 1999). And in this drama the role of midwife was played by class struggle and in particular by the proletariat. In Kautsky’s words, “economic evolution inevitably brings on conditions that will compel the exploited classes to rise against this system of private ownership” (Kaut-sky 1910, 90–91). With each passing day, ever larger would grow the group of “propertyless workers for whom the existing system [would become] un-bearable; who have nothing to lose by its downfall but everything to gain”
(Kautsky 1910, 119).
By the end of the nineteenth century, however, it was becoming increas-ingly clear that many orthodox Marxist predictions were not coming true.
The proletariat was not experiencing a steady “immiserization,” small farm-ing and businesses were not disappearfarm-ing, economic growth was continu-ing, and general economic collapse seemed increasingly far off. Just as Marx-ism’s failings as a guide to history and economic development were becoming clear, moreover, criticism arose within the international socialist movement regarding its inadequacy as a guide to constructive political action. Parties acting in Marx’s name had become important political players in a number of European countries by the end of the nineteenth century, but orthodox Marxism could not furnish them with a strategy for using their power to achieve any practical goals. Orthodox Marxist thought had little to say about the role of political organizations in general, since it considered economic forces rather than political activism to be the prime mover of history.
Around the beginning of the twentieth century, therefore, many on the left faced a troubling dilemma: capitalism was flourishing, but the economic injustices and social fragmentation that had motivated the Marxist project in the first place remained. Orthodox Marxism offered only a counsel of pas-sivity—of waiting for the contradictions within capitalism to bring the sys-tem down, which seemed both highly unlikely and increasingly unpalatable.
Orthodox Marxism’s passive economism also did little to meet the psycho-political needs of mass populations under economic and social stress. As noted above, the last years of the nineteenth century, like those at the end of the twentieth and the beginning of the twenty- first, were marked by a wave of globalization and rapid, disorienting change. This caused immense unease in European societies, and critics, not just on the left but increasingly now on the nationalist right, railed against the glorification of self- interest and rampant individualism, the erosion of traditional values and communities,
and the rise of social dislocation, atomization, and fragmentation that capi-talism brought in its wake (Hughes 1977). Orthodox Marxism had little to offer those interested in actively responding to capitalism’s downsides (rather than merely waiting for its collapse) and little sympathy or understanding for growing nationalist sentiment. It was against this backdrop and in response to these frustrations that revisionism emerged.
As the nineteenth century drew to its close, several socialists realized that if their desired political outcome was not going to come about because it was inevitable (as Marx, Engels, and many of their influential followers believed), then it would have to be achieved as a result of human action. Some, such as Lenin, felt that it could be imposed, and set out to spur history along through the politico- military efforts of a revolutionary vanguard. Others, not willing to accept the violence or élitism of such a course, chose to revamp the social-ist program so as to attract the support of a majority of society. They felt that if the triumph of socialism was not going to be inevitable, it could be made desirable and emerge through the active, collective efforts of human beings motivated by a belief in a better, higher good.
These democratic revisionists rejected the pseudo- scientific and material-ist justifications of socialism proffered by orthodox Marxmaterial-ists and called for a rediscovery of socialism’s moral roots, for an emphasis on the ideals and spirit underpinning the original Marxist project. (As some contemporary observers noted, they wanted to exchange Hegel for Kant.) Although their thoughts and actions often emerged independently and differed according to local context, democratic revisionists shared an emphasis on the desirability rather than the necessity of socialism, on morality and ethics as opposed to science and materialism, and on human will and cross- class cooperation rather than ir-resistible economic forces and inevitable class conflict. The most influential member of this group was Eduard Bernstein, an important figure in both the international socialist movement and its most powerful party, the Sozialde-mokratische Partei Deutschlands (SPD).
Bernstein attacked the two main pillars of orthodox Marxism—historical materialism and class struggle—and argued for an alternative based on the primacy of politics and cross- class cooperation. His observations about capi-talism led him to believe that it was not heading toward its collapse but rather was becoming increasingly complex and adaptable. Thus instead of waiting until capitalism’s demise for socialism to emerge, he favored trying to ac-tively reform the existing system. In his view the prospects for socialism de-pended “not on the decrease but on the increase of . . . wealth,” and on the ability of socialists to come up with “positive suggestions for reform” capable of spurring fundamental change (Bernstein 1898).
Bernstein’s loss of belief in the inevitability of socialism led him to appre-ciate the potential for political action. In his view, orthodox Marxists’ faith in historical materialism had bred a dangerous political passivity that would cost them the enthusiasm of the masses. He felt that the doctrine of inevitable class struggle shared the same fatal flaws, being both historically inaccurate and politically debilitating. There was actually a natural community of inter-est between workers and the vast majority of society that suffered from the injustices of the capitalist system, he argued, and socialists should regard dissatisfied elements of the middle classes and peasantry as potential allies ready to be converted to the cause.
Bernstein’s arguments were echoed by a small but growing number of re-visionist socialists across Europe, who shared an emphasis on a political path to socialism rather than its necessity, and on cross- class cooperation rather than class conflict. During the last years of the nineteenth century and the first years of the twentieth, revisionism progressed in fits and starts, within and across several countries, and although Bernstein and his fellow revision-ists insisted that they were merely “revising” or “updating” Marxism, their fiercest critics—the defenders of orthodoxy—saw clearly what the revision-ists themselves were loath to admit: that they were arguing for a replace-ment of Marxism with something entirely different. By abandoning histori-cal materialism and class struggle, they were in fact rejecting Marxism as thoroughly as Marx had rejected liberalism a half- century earlier. But the revisionists were not yet ready to fully accept the implications of their views and make a clean break with orthodoxy. The result was growing tension and confusion, which left the international socialist movement, like many of its constituent parties, a house divided against itself. The First World War and its aftermath brought the house down.
The vast changes unleashed by the Great War led many on the left to ex-plicitly reject class struggle and historical materialism and to openly em-brace their antitheses—cross- class cooperation and the primacy of politics.
The doctrine of class struggle suffered a critical blow with the outbreak of the war. Socialist parties across the continent abandoned their suspicion of bour-geois parties and institutions and threw their support behind the states they had hitherto pledged to destroy. The doctrine came under even more pressure in the postwar era, as the democratic wave that spread across much of Europe confronted socialists with unprecedented opportunities for participation in bourgeois governments. Given a chance to help form or even lead democratic administrations, many were forced to recognize the uncomfortable truth that workers alone could never deliver an electoral majority and that cooperation with non- proletarians was the price of political power. The war also revealed
the immense mobilizing power of nationalism and bred a generation that valued community, solidarity, and struggle. Populist right- wing movements across the continent were riding these trends, and many socialists worried that clinging to orthodox Marxism’s emphasis on class conflict and proletar-ian exclusivity would prevent them from responding to the needs of ordinary citizens and thus cause them to lose ground to competitors.
The second pillar of orthodox Marxism, historical materialism, was also dealt a critical blow by the war and its aftermath. The pivotal position occu-pied by socialist parties in many newly democratized countries after the Great War made it increasingly difficult to avoid the question of how political power could contribute to socialist transformation, and the subsequent onset of the Great Depression made submission to economic forces tantamount to political suicide. Protests against liberalism and capitalism had been growing since the end of the nineteenth century, but war and depression gave these protests a mass base and renewed momentum, with the legions of the dis-affected ready to be claimed by any political movement promising to tame markets. Orthodoxy’s emphasis on letting economic forces be the drivers of history meant that here too it ceded ground to activist groups on the right.
As socialist parties stumbled and fell in country after country, a growing number of socialists became convinced that a whole new vision was neces-sary for their movement—one that would supplant rather than tinker with orthodoxy. So they turned to the themes set out by revisionism’s pioneers a generation earlier: the value of cross- class cooperation and the primacy of politics. In the context of the interwar years and the Great Depression this meant first and foremost using political forces to control economic ones.
Where orthodox Marxists and classical liberals preached passivity in the face of economic catastrophe, the new, truly “social democratic” leftists fought for programs that would use the power of the state to tame the capitalist system.
Neither hoping for capitalism’s demise nor worshipping the market uncriti-cally, they argued that the market’s anarchic and destructive powers could and should be fettered at the same time that its ability to produce unprece-dented material bounty was exploited. They thus came to champion a real
“third way” between laissez- faire liberalism and Soviet communism. These themes found their advocates within all socialist parties. In Belgium, Hol-land, and France, for example, Hendrik De Man and his Plan du travail found energetic champions. De Man argued for an activist strategy to combat eco-nomic depression, an evolutionary transformation of capitalism, and a focus on the control rather than the ownership of capital. Activists in other parts of Europe echoed these themes: in Germany and Austria reformers advo-cated government intervention in the economy and pseudo- Keynesian
stimu-lus programs; and in Sweden the Swedish social democratic party, the SAP, initiated the single most ambitious attempt to reshape capitalism from within (Berman 2006).
Regardless of the specific policies they advocated, one thing that joined all budding interwar social democrats was a rejection of the passivity and eco-nomic determinism of orthodox Marxism and a belief in the need to use state power to tame capitalism. In order to do this, however—and finally relegate historical materialism to the dustbin of history—they had to win majority support for their programs and fight back the advances of the growing nation-alist right. Hence during the interwar years many returned to the themes of cross- class cooperation that Bernstein and other revisionists had preached a generation earlier. In an era of dislocation and disorientation, these social democrats realized that appeals to the “people,” the “community,” and the common good were much more attractive than the class struggle perspective of orthodox Marxism or the individualism of classic liberals. Therefore they often embraced communitarian, corporatist, and even nationalist appeals and urged their parties to make the transition from workers’ to “people’s”
parties.
It was only in Scandinavia and in Sweden in particular that a unified party embraced this new approach wholeheartedly. This is why one must turn to the Swedish case to observe the full dimensions, and potential, of the so-cial democratic experiment at this time. During the interwar years the SAP began to develop a comprehensive economic program designed to harness the powers of the market and reshape the Swedish polity. In selling this pro-gram to the electorate, especially during the depression, the SAP stressed its activism and commitment to the common good. For example, during the elec-tion campaign of 1932 a leading party paper proclaimed: “Humanity carries its destiny in its own hands. . . . Where the bourgeoisie preach laxity and sub-mission to . . . fate, we appeal to people’s desire for creativity . . . conscious that we both can and will succeed in shaping a social system in which the fruits of labor will go to the benefit of those who are willing to . . . participate in the common task” (Social- Demokraten, 15 September 1932).
The SAP’s leader Per Albin Hansson, meanwhile, was popularizing his theme of Sweden as the “folkhemm” or “people’s home.” He declared, “The basis of the home is community and togetherness” and stressed that social democracy strove to “break down the barriers that . . . separate citizens”
(Hansson 1982 [1928]). The result was that while in countries such as Ger-many and Italy the populist right assumed the mantle of communal solidarity and put together devastatingly effective cross- class coalitions, in Sweden it was the social democrats who became seen as the champions of the “little
people,” the party that was “one with the nation” and was taking critical steps
people,” the party that was “one with the nation” and was taking critical steps