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Title: Proudhon throughout History Author: Pierre Ansart Date: 1997 Language: en Topics: Proudhonism, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, sociology, history Source: Retrieved on 21st April 2022 from https://www.persee.fr/doc/homso_0018-4306_1997_num_123_1_2876 Notes: Translated from the French by Shaun Murdock.
Abstract
Proudhon remains a strangely irritating author, as if his work were
still somehow present and threatening. Before the collapse of the
communist regimes, the various resurgences of Proudhonism at different
times in this long history have given rise to nostalgia as much as
intellectual and political rediscoveries, while official communist
ideology interpreted this phenomenon more darkly. At the present time,
research is being carried out that explores Proudhon’s idea that the
free play of economic forces and social contradictions is not a viable
long-term response and will only satisfy the governing and possessing
classes.
---
The history of Proudhonism is oddly marked by approvals and
condemnations, enthusiastic readings and indignant refutations. While so
many nineteenth-century political thinkers are referenced by scholars
without arousing particular passions, Proudhon remains a strangely
irritating author, as if his work were still somehow present and
threatening. While historians and scholars carefully try to assess his
place in history, his name continues to elicit strong emotional
reactions, both positive and negative. And even in scholarly research,
we cannot fail to notice approving and disapproving attitudes, as if he
still needed to be defended or attacked. Before the collapse of the
communist regimes, the various resurgences of Proudhonism at different
times in this long history have given rise to nostalgia as much as
intellectual and political[1] rediscoveries, while official communist
ideology interpreted this phenomenon more darkly. How can we explain the
particularly emotional character of this history of Proudhonism and what
does this signify?
This intensity of emotion towards Proudhon’s theories is not recent, and
we may say that it was expressed throughout the writer’s life. As early
as 1840, the First Memoir on property was received with keen interest
among the working classes where his opening phrase (“Property is theft”)
quickly became a familiar slogan. But it also provoked anger from the
members of the Suard Academy, and then, when his Second Memoir was
published, concern from the justice system. The System of Economic
Contradictions attracted admiring and approving readers but sparked the
wrath of Marx. In 1848, Proudhon was regarded as a prominent defender of
the popular classes, and the results of his election to the National
Assembly in June show that he was not trusted only among the artisans.
But the events of June that shattered popular hopes also harmed trust in
the people’s spokesman, and in 1850 the moderates, who had once
participated in the February Revolution, turned against Proudhon whom
they saw as a disturbing annoyance.[2] After having been followed and
discussed, he quickly became known as “l’homme-terreur”. The story of
enthusiasm and anger does not end there: Proudhon, welcomed without
hesitation by the citizens of Brussels in 1858, had to flee the city
four years later following a violent protest against him. In 1861, his
book War and Peace provoked indignation and, furthermore, a complete
misunderstanding. The following year, his opposition to Italian unity
attracted very little approval and almost universal animosity.
Marx’s subsequent attitude exemplifies the fury of these reactions,
although it may be interpreted in different ways. We know that Marx
initially expressed extreme admiration for the First Memoir, and that he
regarded Proudhon as an authentic representative of the revolutionary
movement,[3] before pillorying him and giving him the infamous epithet
“petty bourgeois”.[4] But the story of these contradictory emotions did
not end in 1847: the fervent admiration expressed in The Civil War in
France is also a tribute to Proudhon, since in it Marx praises precisely
the communalism and federalism that Proudhon had systematically
theorised nearly a decade earlier.
Among these impassioned returns to Proudhonism, we must also include the
dramatic period of the Paris Commune. Whereas the twenty years of the
Second Empire gave no indication that a federalist movement was
possible, the insurrection of March 1871 was driven by popular
enthusiasm, where a historic return to Proudhon’s federalist hopes and
his pluralistic conception of a new social order could clearly be
discerned.
After 1880, two great impassioned returns to Proudhon could be
contrasted: one positive, that of anarcho-syndicalism; the other
negative, that of communist ideology which would make Proudhonism the
symbol of evil. Of course, anarcho-syndicalism’s return to Proudhon[5]
is based on political explanations and supporting arguments, but it also
charged with feeling and emotion. Georges Sorel, Gaétan Pirou, Célestin
Bouglé, Georges Dolléans and others treat the rediscovery of Proudhonism
as a “resurrection” and as the revival of someone once forgotten. A
revival not made without horrified cries, as Eduard Bernstein testified
in 1900 in the French edition of his work Evolutionary Socialism in
which he writes in the preface: “Hence that horrified exclamation by a
few Marxists to me. He is resurrecting Proudhon!”[6]
It is indeed as a disturbing resurrection that these defenders
experienced this return. In fact, the history of the First International
was marked by the struggle of the collectivists and communists against
the Proudhonians and Bakunin. Marx’s son-in-law, Paul Lafargue, seemed
to have declared Proudhon’s definitive excommunication. However, a new
social movement became involved in other activities, giving new life and
presence to yesterday’s outcast.
The October Revolution and its descent into the Leninist, then Stalinist
State, would inspire a new revival, perhaps more easily explained but no
less impassioned. The state bureaucracy was compelled to fight against
all forms of opposition and, in particular, against an anarchism that
would contrast its revolutionary promises with the realities of a
despotic State. Proudhon thus assumed the diabolical figure of the
triumphant revolution’s worst enemy. Of all the returns to Proudhon,
this is perhaps the most understandable and politically logical: as the
Bolshevik Party tightened its grip on behaviour and expression, he who
denounced the State and political bureaucracy logically became the
iconic enemy and a symbol of dangerous resistance. We can follow the
extreme contradictions in Lenin’s work with regard to the Proudhonian
spirit: in 1902, in What Is to Be Done? , advocating the centralised
party and bringing professional revolutionaries together in perfect
unity, he firmly rejected the Proudhonian and anarchist tendency, but in
1917, the analyses in The State and Revolution struck anti-state tones
that Proudhon would not have rejected. It was after seizing power that
Proudhonism became a threat and a voice to be stifled.
The collapse of the communist regimes and their legitimising rhetoric
marked a calming of these condemnations and abuses. If one can speak of
a new return to Proudhon, it is certainly in a calmer, less sectarian
climate, more conducive to a better assessment of his place in history
and of the meaning of his work. However, after the great revivals that
we have just briefly recalled, this complex work continues to occupy a
contested place among the great predecessors. We must assume that this
turbulent and unfinished history of admiration and condemnation, support
and excommunication, is not accidental, and that there are relatively
discernible reasons for it, even if these reasons may be intersecting
and contradictory, which is no surprise in matters of political
affiliation.
We can hypothesise that the extreme reactions towards Proudhon’s work in
the past, and in a lesser vein still today, are due to strong,
non-accidental reasons. It seems that the critique of the three
alienations of property, the State and religion touches on three
fundamental questions of the social order, and that these questions,
whatever changes they may have undergone over more than a century,
remain open, provoking explicit and implicit stances and reactions.
Moreover, while the conditions have changed, the basic emotional
reactions towards these three foundations of the social order have a
degree of historical continuity, and it is perhaps in this regard that
Proudhonian discourse most directly addresses ongoing attitudes.
Finally, Proudhon’s specific answers, his refusal to believe in simple
and inevitable solutions, his very ambiguities, between optimism and
clear-headedness, seem to us to be in tune with current emotional
contradictions.
The critique of property is Proudhon’s first theme, and despite the
different versions, a constant theme. Critique of the principle of
property and refutation of theories defending it in What Is Property?
(1840), analysis of the contradictions generated by the regime of
property in The System of Economic Contradictions (1846), attempts to
solve the problem in The Federative Principle (1846) and Theory of
Property (posthumous) – the denunciation of the appropriation of capital
is a constant critical theme.
This obsession may seem outdated today. Such critiques are said to
belong to a bygone era of capitalist development. How can these
condemnations be given credence when communism has proven to fail and
socialism is exploring various capital management models? However,
things are far from being so obvious, and although social suffering
linked to the possession and deprivation of property has changed in form
and place, it is still no less acute throughout the world than in the
1850s. The occurrence of appropriation remains a focal point for
satisfaction and dissatisfaction, enjoyment and envy, attraction and
revulsion. Statistics and surveys can measure inequality and inequality,
the closing or widening of income gaps, but they cannot accurately
reflect all of the ever-present desires and irritations surrounding the
nagging issue of property.
But is it not this irritation and fundamental dissatisfaction that
Proudhon expresses? It has often been rightly noted that the rebellious
cry (“Property is theft!”) was not as original as one may think and that
it had been expressed in different terms well before 1840. It should
undoubtedly be compared with Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Discourse on the
Origin of Inequality (1755), which shares its vigour and acerbic
outrage. We can even see a new formulation of religious indignation
against the injustice of the earthly city – Pope Leo the Great had said,
before many Church fathers: “Usury of money is the death of the soul”.
But the old and rather archaic nature of this cry in no way weakens its
emotional power. What Proudhon expresses in these few words, which he
would then constantly theorise, is that through the property
relationship, a particular social relation is called into question and
that, as Jean-Jacques Rousseau had already expressed, the social
relationship necessarily became a relationship of force. Can this
relationship of force be overcome, or must we come up with economic,
political and ideological compromises? This question would constantly be
revisited over the twenty-five years of thought between the First Memoir
and The Political Capacity of the Working Classes.
Proudhon’s originality in the social movement of the mid-19th century on
this point is to increase outrage against property without, however,
providing a simple solution to it. While liberals and conservatives see
appropriation either as an incidental or wholly beneficial phenomenon,
and the communists see it as a temporary evil that a revolution can
erase, Proudhon maintains that it is socially illegitimate, a source of
destructive contradictions, but nevertheless that there is no
eschatological solution to this torment. He fights against liberals who
hide the violence and suffering linked to property, but he also fights
against the supporters of “community”,[7] whose dangerous illusions he
condemns. He even defends Roman possession and glorifies peasants’
physical ties to the land, which they cultivate better and with greater
enjoyment when they own it.
There is thus an apparent intellectual contradiction, but the
contradiction is based in fact. It is an economic contradiction, since
property allows the healthy accumulation of capital but also causes
worker subordination and poverty; a social contradiction, since property
divides capital and labour and provokes “war” between the two; and a
psychological contradiction between the enjoyment of the possessors and
the suffering of the dispossessed. But paradoxically, Proudhon’s
attitude is in no way one of resignation. He does not believe that a
political revolution could ever resolve permanent problems whose
complexity is a condition of economic functioning, but nevertheless he
does not stop seeking realistic means to calm the suffering caused by
appropriation without destroying its dynamism, whether through immediate
measures such as the Bank of the People in 1849 or through highly
elaborate measures such as Federalism in 1863.
Citizens are encouraged to face up to the suffering resulting from
property, appreciate its fatal nature, and called not to resign
themselves to it but to participate in balances and exchanges in order
to circumvent its injustices. Is this peculiar mix of anger and
realistic hope so distant from a certain current sensibility?
Proudhon’s second passion may be even closer to a certain current
sensibility, and is why he is regarded as the “father of anarchism”: his
denunciation of political alienation. It was during the period of the
1848 Revolution, when the hope for establishing a whole new society was
asserted, that Proudhon most vigorously expressed his denunciation of
the State, particularly in General Idea of the Revolution in the
Nineteenth Century (1851), but this critique had been outlined ever
since his earliest writings. His later writings, though more moderate on
this point, continue to denounce state centralisation.
Again, beyond the historical conditions and the variety of
circumstances, the Proudhonian critique touches on a problem that
today’s societies have not solved. Citizens' relationships with the
State continue to oscillate from trust to hostility, depending on class
and social status and according to their conditions and interests,
always imbued with hopes and disappointments. In France, in particular,
this relationship is filled with agitation sustained by partisan
promises and disillusion, but no nation completely avoids this twofold
relationship, nor can it evade the burdens and controls of state
machinery. But is Proudhon’s anti-state sensibility not in tune with
this contemporary sensibility, at least in environments not directly
favoured by state structures? Proudhon sketches the broad outlines of an
abstract state power motivated by a dynamic whose extent and
invasiveness is hidden. Beyond the historical and political
explanations,[8] which are not lacking, he paints an image of dull
violence that devours its victims, the citizens. His essential
characterisation of the State – that it appropriates citizens’ political
will – strongly accords with the experience of today’s citizens, who
find themselves before an obscure, threatening and crippling
technocracy. Here, theoretical analyses and proofs matter less than the
emotional intuition that permeates the text and lends it emotional
significance. Perhaps this is why pages of Proudhon remain perfectly
understandable by contemporary citizens, without the need for
explanation or comment. If, for example, today’s citizens read or heard
this passage on the State’s violent grip – “To be GOVERNED is to be at
every operation, at every transaction noted, registered, counted, taxed,
stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, authorised, admonished,
prevented, forbidden, reformed, corrected, punished...” – we would
expect them to understand its meaning immediately and recognise their
emotional experience there. Proudhon also says that State power is
fascinating and that it may exercise, whether consciously or
unconsciously, a seductive power over uninformed citizens. There is thus
a permanent emotional ambiguity with regard to State power, which varies
according to social groups and the various interests, but which
permeates the whole of civil society.
It is regrettable that Proudhon did not maintain his radical
denunciation of the State and believed that he had to seek a balance, a
dialectic, between the principle of authority and the principle of
liberty.[9] But it is precisely one of Proudhon’s essential
peculiarities to radically denounce state appropriation and then to seek
realistic solutions to the dilemma. Here, too, his critique leads
neither to resignation nor to nihilism: according to The Federative
Principle, the dialectic between authority and liberty cannot be
avoided, and everyone must face up to its specific consequences. Are
these appeals not largely in tune with a certain contemporary
sensibility?
Proudhon’s third denunciation, of religion, may have seemed in the eyes
of many rationalist or scientifically minded people to be a somewhat
outdated polemic. In 1865, Marx recognised Proudhon’s book Justice in
the Revolution and in the Church as a useful work, but only because of
the rather backward mindset, in his view, of the French workers. For
him, since religious beliefs were linked to archaic, feudal structures,
the development of capitalism had the side effect of dispelling these
outdated illusions.
The robust upholding and evolution of religions throughout the world and
the resurgence of aggressive fundamentalisms and sects of a religious
nature have led, conversely, to reconsidering religious facts from
another perspective. Today there is a strong tendency to link two
attitudes that are difficult to reconcile: one consists in recognising
all meanings (political, social, artistic) of religious facts, while the
other highlights the risks (war, hatred, terrorism).
This ambiguity is one of the pillars of Proudhon’s analysis of religion.
Proudhon highlights, as it is repeated today, that the philosophies of
transcendence gave all individual and collective practices shared
meanings, a unity that is psychologically reassuring and socially
effective. In doing so, as he likes to recount, every religion created a
certain social bond among its followers; it “bound” individuals together
by creating a shared imagination. But his argument also leads to showing
that this community that linked individuals together came at the cost of
subjecting people to a principle that was external to them, an
alienation that destroyed their autonomy. The purpose of his great book,
Justice in the Revolution and in the Church, is to set forth all the
consequences of this heteronomy, this submission to a transcendent
principle, in all aspects: economic, political, moral. Religion is
therefore both respectable and redoubtable, worthy of respect and even
worthier of being fought against. It is understandable that because of
this critical aspect, Proudhon’s work remains irritating or despicable
in the eyes of devotees of all persuasions.
But once again, the Proudhonian critique does not lead to nihilism. The
goal of this denunciation is not to commit to the destruction of
beliefs, and in this respect there is great distance, for example,
between Proudhon and Stirner, as the latter indeed noticed. As the title
suggests, Proudhon’s goal is twofold: of course, the dangers of
doctrines of transcendence must be denounced, but more importantly, this
critique is the starting point for a search for a positive theory of
justice. Once again, the Proudhonian sensibility in no way leads to
resignation, but to seeking solutions to the different contradictions
that are the very substance of life.
If there is therefore a clear affinity between major forms of today’s
shared sensibility and Proudhon’s analyses, it will not be surprising to
note that some proposals made over a century ago resonate strongly
today. Let us mention here, without intending to develop them further,
two great Proudhonian projects – federalism and the theory of justice –
emphasising the link between political sensibility and these projects.
It may be said that the movement now inspiring a re-evaluation of
European federalism, in endlessly discussed forms, is based on one fear
and one hope: the fear of seeing the continuation of conflicts that have
caused bloodshed in European nations, and the hope of building a new
community with greater economic and political cohesion. Keeping just to
these aspects, it can be noted that they reproduce a collection of
attitudes that also underlay the Proudhonian federalist project. In the
1860s, he saw federalism as a socio-political system capable of breaking
the despotic and warlike dynamics of the great States, a transnational
regime making a return to military confrontations impossible. Similarly,
provided that federalism were conceived as an economic and social regime
and not only as an inter-state arrangement, it must completely
reorganise socio-economic balances and exchanges, while also
transforming all the old structures. This hope is not absent from
current expectations, which of course does not mean that the true
Proudhonian project is now being implemented; on this point, there is a
large gap between hope and reality.
It is no less remarkable that a broad reflection on the theme of Justice
is being developed today, which of course seeks different means and ends
from Proudhon’s.[10] An intuition that motivates current research
accords with Proudhon’s theory that the free play of economic forces and
social contradictions is not a viable long-term response and will only
satisfy the governing and possessing classes. As he repeats in Justice
in the Revolution and in the Church, the collapse of transcendent
beliefs and the system of inequality that they legitimise runs the risk
of surrendering humanity to its troubles, to economic, social and
political violence. This does not imply that new, dangerous
transcendences must be invented. On the contrary, we must take stock of
the economic realities, examine the failures of the regime of property
and the social inequalities that it reinforces, and bring the demands of
individual consciousness up to date in order to define the principles of
Justice and its applications in the different areas of life. For
Proudhon, a society cannot be based on illusory principles and become a
source of dependence and submission, nor surrender itself solely to the
determinisms of economic forces. Nor can it find peace and freedom
within the straitjacket of State order. It requires an ideal and real
order, a representation of what it must be, a principle that guides
collective and individual action.
Is this justice being achieved, and can we confidently expect the coming
transition from a world of injustice to a world of justice? Proudhon is
far from asserting this, and after having at times believed in certain
progress, he considers regression to be a historical possibility.
Humanity’s troubles are too glaring for us to be led astray by the
illusion of a just future. We must make a careful assessment of violence
and injustice and their fundamental causes, and fear the worst without
losing hope. Justice remains the goal to be achieved, the task to be
carried out.
[1] On the history of Proudhonism and these “returns” to Proudhon, cf.
Mil neuf cent, Revue d’histoire intellectuelle, no. 10, 1992 :
“Proudhon, l’éternel retour” [Proudhon: The Eternal Return].
[2] “The boldness of Mr. Proudhon’s proposals [...], the challenge
thrown at all beliefs, all received opinions, inspired violent
indignation [...] Proudhon suddenly gained a reputation, among a small
but growing circle, that attracted greater revulsion than sympathy.”
Daniel Stern, Histoire de la RĂ©volution de 1848 [History of the 1848
Revolution], Paris, A. Lacroix, 1880, p. XVII
[3] “But Proudhon makes a critical investigation – the first resolute,
ruthless, and at the same time scientific investigation – of the basis
of political economy, private property. This is the great scientific
advance he made, an advance which revolutionises political economy and
for the first time makes a real science of political economy possible.”
Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, La Sainte Famille [The Holy Family] (1845),
Paris, Éditions sociales, 1969, p. 42.
[4] Karl Marx, Misère de la Philosophie [The Poverty of Philosophy]
(1847), Paris, Costes, 1960.
[5] Cf. Patrice Rolland, “Le retour de Proudhon (1900-1920)” [The Return
of Proudhon (1900–1920)], Mil neuf cent, Revue d’histoire
intellectuelle, 1992, no. 10.
[6] Eduard Bernstein, Socialisme théorique et social-démocratie
pratique, Paris, Stock, trans. A. Cohen, 1900.
[7] Proudhon, Système des contradictions économiques (1846), ch. XII.
[8] Cf. Proudhon, Les Confessions d’un révolutionnaire (1849) and Idée
générale de la Révolution (1851).
[9] Proudhon, Du Principe fédératif de la nécessité de reconstituer le
parti de la révolution (1863).
[10] We allude to the rebirth of the debate marked by John Rawls’ work,
Theory of Justice, 1971.