Roosevelt, Fascism, Woke Capitalism and 'Coups Against Democracy' (part two)

 To utterly mangle a famous Bob Dylan lyric, “history doesn’t rhyme, it swears”.

In April 1938, in a speech to the American Congress, Franklin Roosevelt said that “unhappy events abroad” (meaning Europe) had imparted two “simple truths”.

The first was that democratic government was threatened by the “growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than [the] democratic state itself”. That, in essence, was Fascism, he said.

The second was that the “liberty of a democracy is not safe if its business system does not …. produce and distribute goods in such a way as to sustain an acceptable standard of living”.

“Both lessons,” said Roosevelt, “hit home”.

The Hubris of Wealth

Sadly, 88 years on, they are hitting home again. Though our situation is probably more perilous in that the American president is the “essence” of the problem, rather than the one stating its existence.

A general myopia regarding the situation also makes combating it far more difficult. Many understand Roosevelt’s second “truth” – that falling or stagnating living standards provide fertile ground for far right and Fascist parties. Anything from high rents, to failing public services, to a callous ‘welfare’ system are blamed on immigrants or lazy freeloaders, or both.

But the first “truth” – interestingly Roosevelt placed it first so as to emphasise it – is less appreciated. But, as part one I hope demonstrated, “the concentration of private power without equal in history” is now actually worse than it was in the 1930s. And its producing similar effects.

So while Fascism is incubated by social conditions that affect the mass of people and unsolved and misunderstood economic afflictions, it also has a corollary at the top of society.

As Roosvelt noted at a time when Nazism thought it would last a thousand years, economic concentration and the growth of corporate power leads to a hubris among rich capitalists that they can discard democracy and institute a government seamlessly suited to their profit-maximising needs. This allies with the Fascist impulse at the bottom of society to produce a low-tax, deregulatory political project that, on its reverse side, constantly seeks scapegoats to blame for problems that are never addressed.

First on the Fascist ‘To Do’ List

We can see this in the actions of classical Fascism – the political environment that Roosevelt was confronting. The absolute first priority of the Hitler regime in Germany, as befitting its bankrolling by wealthy industrialists, was to repress the Left and puts its activists in concentration camps like Dachau. This started with the Communists in February 1933, and then within weeks extended to the Social Democrats and the trade unions. Only after this had been done, did the Nazis turn their attention to Jews, initially through a boycott of Jewish businesses. “There were relatively few Jews among these early prisoners of the Third Reich,” writes historian Arno Mayer in Why did the Heavens not Darken? “and all of them were arrested for being left-wing politicians, lawyers, or literati.”

The original Fascist regime, Mussolini’s in Italy, ceded a lot of power to a coterie of mainly non-Fascist economic advisers. As shown by Clara Mattai in The Capital Order, they instituted a system of brutal austerity and privatisation, which seamlessly dovetailed with Il Duce’s physical smashing of the workers’ movement, and coincidentally caused a massive, though far from unwelcome, slump in living standards.

Roosevelt, in keeping with someone who didn’t consider himself a socialist, thought the intrinsic problem with Fascism was that it rested on a particular type of capitalism. This was the cartel system – groups of companies that become so powerful they can fix prices, distort markets and take over governments so their interests are tended to.

And it is true that, contrary to the contemporary Right’s absurd portrayal of it as socialistic, Nazism had a private profit-making impulse at its core. As Hannah Arendt relates in Eichmann in Jerusalem (p 40), IG Farben, Krupp and Siemens all had plants in the vicinity of Auschwitz and made a pot of money by ‘employing’ its inmates as slave labour.

Nazism and Cartels

As the Rooseveltian moment reached its zenith – i.e. before the Cold War took root and the US started installing and supporting right-wing military dictatorships across the world – the cartel system was blamed for Nazism. The chairman of the US Senate’s Subcommittee on War Mobilization stated that the cartel system was “in great measure” responsible for the Hitler regime. Roosevelt himself wanted the German cartels eradicated and a “Decartelization” team was dispatched to post-war Germany to do just that (with the exception of IG Farben unsuccessfully).

But as shown by the fact that the German cartels existed prior to Nazism, and in fact were instrumental in helping Hitler into power, cartelisation is always an inherent possibility with capitalism. This is especially the case when – as they have been since the Great Depression –economic downturns are nipped in the bud by government intervention and a widespread destruction of capital is not permitted to happen.

In 2012, two American Marxian economists, in a book called The Endless Crisis said that economic concentration, though frequently denied, was greater than it had ever been in the past. They cited another economist who found 22 “barriers to entry” used by firms to exclude rivals, prima facie evidence of a cartel system. And given what has happened in the interim, including a spate of mergers and acquisitions in the wake of Covid, economic concentration has almost certainly become more extreme.

In such circumstances, the temptation to wield the power of market influence and wealth can become irresistible.

Last year, the anti-monopoly group the Balanced Economy Project and the NGO Global Justice Now, urged an investigation of three pharmaceutical giants who had paused investments worth £1.5 billion as prelude to negotiations with the government over drug purchases by the NHS. This, they said, “showed signs of cartel-like behaviour”.

As it turned out, the Competition and Markets Authority, permeated with the Starmer (read now Burnham) government’s growth mantra and horror of seeming to impair business ‘confidence’ refused to investigate. The subsequent talks, carried out under the shadow of threats to withdraw investments, saw the NHS promise to double spending on new drugs at a cost of £64 billion.

Billionaires and the Far Right

It is not hard to see an echo of the German cartels’ role in the rise of Nazism, and participation in its horrors, with billionaire sponsorship of the far-right today. Elon Musk pays Tommy Robinson’s legal costs, calls for the British government to be overthrown and supports Restore Britain. Palantir founder Peter Thiel thinks freedom and democracy are incompatible, while backing Donald Trump and the far-right. Trump’s immigrant detention centres are built and operated by private corporations.

Conveniently, those supported by these techno-billionaires (or trillionaires in the case of Musk) promise to tear down regulations banish abominations like a wealth tax. According to Facebook whistleblower, Sarah Wyn-Williams, offering electoral campaign tools to the far-right Alternative fur Deutschland and the Front National in France was seen as a way of “getting close to these political parties and helping them into government” so as to “stop government from regulating Facebook”.

Famed economist Daron Acemoglu (co-author of the noted book Why Nations Fail) has even suggested that what he calls “the capitalist state” may be prompted, by growing automation and an ever-rising stock of capital, to launch a “coup against democracy” and institute “repression”. He hypothesizes that for quite rational reasons – the desire to maximise profit – “democratic decision-making will become less and less attractive to capitalists”.

The Questionable Allure of Fascism

But a counter-question can be posed. For most corporations – as opposed to some idiosyncratic ultra-wealthy individuals thrown up by this age of mammoth inequality – is backing Fascism is really necessary or even desirable? As alluded to above, Clara Mattei in The Capital Order showed that in the 1920s, both Britain and Italy imposed brutal austerity – in the form of spending cuts, high interest rates and repression of trade unions. But while the latter became Fascist and abolished elections, the former didn’t. In fact, Britain instituted its recession-inducing austerity policies in the same decade that it experienced universal suffrage for the first time.

The Anti-Trump Corporation

It’s also true that for some corporations, elements of the modern Fascist script stick in the craw, primarily because they alienate senior staff members. Disney, for example, perhaps the archetypical American corporation, publicly criticised a Florida law which restricted teaching about sexuality and gender identity in schools, a kind of American version of Thatcher’s Section 28. This was even at the cost of a two-year long legal battle with the Trumpite state governor.

But though it personified corporate opposition, Disney was far from alone. Altogether 337 corporations, including famous names like Apple, Pepsi, Pfizer, Facebook, Mastercard, Citibank and Amazon  signed a statement bemoaning similar state bills across the country that “single out LGBTQ+” people and “have a negative effect on our employees, our customers, our competitiveness, and state and national economies.”

Some American corporations have also retained their DEI policies in the face of threats from the Trump administration. Clearly the ogre of the woke corporation, invoked by the MAGA movement a few years ago, still exists under the surface. It’s a phenomenon that simply didn’t exist the last time Fascism bestrode the world. The late David Graeber brilliantly diagnosed a “culture of resentment” that hones in on a corporate Left elite of HR managers and administrators who police language and acceptable behaviour. “The mainstream Left largely controls the production of humans,” he wrote, “The mainstream Right largely controls the production of things”.

Despite Trump and Elon Musk and crypto-billionaire funded Nigel Farage and Rupert Lowe and Tommy Robinson, this division within the corporate world is very real. But although sections of the corporate elite may passionately hate contemporary Fascism, they are no more predisposed to “democratic decision-making” than the Right. They may be dissenters in the culture war but in the economic war they are resolutely on-message.  In fact, though universal suffrage is an unadorned fact, few powerful people actually like it. As seen by their reaction to losing control of the UK Labour party a decade ago, centrists loathe democracy too.

Be that as it may, in the absence of a serious working-class left-wing revolt, an alliance between the corporate Left and the corporate Right, though they both detest Marxism and view democracy with visceral distaste, seems unlikely.

The surreally limited vision of ‘democracy’ of Margaret Thatcher’s mentor Friedrich Hayek – representatives serving 15-year terms with electors only able to vote for them once in their lifetimes – may be appealing to right-wing libertarians like Peter Thiel but the schisms run too deep for it to become a charter for corporate freedom.

Acemoglu’s “capitalist state” launching a “coup against democracy” presupposes a unity of purpose that was only achieved sporadically in the 1920s and ’30s and would be even harder to cement today. In any case, the dangerous beast of democracy has been suitably tamed in the last few decades by methods such as austerity, debt and the judgement of financial markets. If all else fails, Machiavellian techniques can be employed to see off insurgencies like those of Corbyn or Saunders.

The Shifting Battlefield

Though this last may facilitate the rise of the far right by channelling grievances in that direction, that too has a function for the corporate elite even if these parties do not attain power. The pressure of right-wing opponents promising a bonfire of regulations and more austerity results in establishment parties, even ostensibly ‘left-wing’ ones, committing themselves to similar, though maybe not quite as extreme, policies. Labour Chancellor John Healey, for example, wants further deregulation of the finance sector, accompanied by “fiscal discipline” (read austerity), while the Tories and Reform scream ‘not enough’. Thus, the battle lines are drawn, while the battlefield itself moves inexorably to the Right.

In 1931, American philosopher John Dewey called politics “the shadow cast on society by big business”. Four decades later the Deweyite Noam Chomsky said that corporations were, “in political terms fascist.” Organisationally, there is “tight control at the top and strict obedience has to be established at every level”. The corporation cannot help but shape democracy in its image. At root the problem is corporate power. While it exists, democracy will always be mutilated. It just depends how badly it is mauled.

Devil's Pact or Doom Loop. Do we need economic growth?

To misappropriate an early song-title by a semi-famous Scottish indie band, everything flows – from economics.

What may seem on the surface a dry and technical subject actually reveals the beating heart of the political philosophy behind it.

The economics behind Starmerism consists of massively increasing spending on weapons, to be paid for by renewed austerity, and propelling the most vulnerable in society further into destitution and misery.

While, at the same time, asset-stripping the rest of the economy by selling it off to American vulture capitalists.

What flows from this will not be pleasant. It involves entrenching the rule of profit-extracting corporations while impoverishing swathes of the population. Though it will go by a far more benevolent name, this – necessarily buttressed by authoritarian means – amounts to corporate fascism. This kind of fascism will likely creep up on us gradually rather being proclaimed by a march on the capital, an Act of Parliament, or even a general election result.

In such circumstances, the Left doesn’t merely need to get its shit together politically but also economically.

In fact, economics, traditionally the weak point of a Left more concerned with the equities of distribution than the production of wealth, can actually become its strength. This is because though the Starmer government is rhetorically obsessed with achieving economic growth, it is very bad at actually achieving it.

The Doom Loop

Growth expectations from the Office of National Statistics are terrible, and as socialist economist Michael Burke says, without higher growth, living standards will not rise.

Sustainable growth, he says “is an appropriate aim for all economic policy”. The problem for Starmer is that his avowed method – austerity and taxes rises on ordinary people in the context of ramped up state spending on weapons (military Keynesianism) – is, in reality, anti-growth.

The British economy, says Burke, is trapped in a “doom loop” of deteriorating public services, rising government debt ‘necessitating’ more spending cuts which depresses the economy even more. We need to break out of this ruinous cycle and actually achieve growth rather than merely talking it up.

The fundamental question is whether pursing growth by other means is possible, and if it is possible, whether it is desirable.

The economics of the socialist case rest on first of all not massively hiking spending in a drive to war. Money, buttressed by a wealth tax on billionaires, will instead be diverted to public investment in areas like public transport, council housing, infrastructure. At present, under the ‘Labour’ government’s Spending Review, non-defence public investment is set to fall in real terms over the coming years.

But ironically for a political ideology invariably condemned for being ‘anti-business’, socialists aim to reverse the pervasive, and long-term, weak growth of the economy. This will be attempted through methods like the above-mentioned public investment but also through ‘innovations’ like a national investment bank.  The aim here is to revive private investment which is at anaemic levels, and has been for a long time. RMT trade union leader Eddie Dempsey recently told the TUC conference: “Corbyn had the right idea — we need a public investment bank funded by seed capital that can drive strategic investment in parts of the economy, where we will build proper unionised jobs, good work that will take the country forward instead of leaving us at the mercy of the money markets”.

Socialist Pro-Capitalism

If it is accurate to estimate, as is frequently done, that capitalists need annual economic growth of 3 per cent to make a decent profit, then ‘socialism’, in attempting to resuscitate growth in the economy, is not anti-capitalist at all, rather the opposite. But I don’t expect enlightened self-interest to become the fashion any time soon.

However, merely correctly understanding the aspiration is no guarantee it will be successful. Many other countries and blocs have public investment banks, but their recent growth record is nothing to write home about. In fact, the Eurozone boasts a worse growth performance than Britain despite the existence of the European Investment Bank.

Even where a public investment bank does have a tangible impact, as seems the case with Brazil’s BNDES, the remaining commercial banks are left free to concentrate on speculation and mortgage lending, which is extremely profitable but merely exacerbates the inherent flaws of the extractive economy where small minorities make huge profits but many people struggle to make ends meet.

That is why some Marxists advocate taking control, as the British Labour party once aspired to do, of the “commanding heights” of the economy which includes nationalising the big, private banks (properly nationalising not merely assuming ‘hands-off’ ownership as the government did with RBS after the financial crisis). This will direct private, now public, investment into desirable areas.

Should we aim for growth?

But we are still left with the basic assumption that economic growth is a good and necessary thing – “an appropriate aim for all economic policy” – even if, in an historical irony, only the Left or radical Left seem serious about attaining it.

However, is growth the goal we should be striving towards? Growth, as the word implies means getting bigger, over time much bigger. Economic growth of 3 per cent a year, a sweet spot for corporate profits, government finances, and personal livelihoods, means the economy doubles in size every 24 years. A little over a decade ago geographer, and Marxist, David Harvey wrote that compound growth means the result will be even more extreme.

Imagined physically, the enormous expansions in physical infrastructures, in urbanisation, in workforces, in consumption and in production capacities that have occurred since the 1970s until now will have to be dwarfed into insignificance over the coming generation if the compound rate of capital accumulation is to be maintained. Take a look at a map of the city nearest you in 1970 and contrast it with today and then imagine what it will look like when quadrupled in size and density over the next twenty years.

 It is worth noting that, in Britain, the rate of capital accumulation has not been maintained – an economic malaise that has produced various maladies – but that cities and towns have nonetheless grown “in size and density”. In the context of the government’s huge housebuilding targets, totally reliant on the private sector, they are predicted to do so even more in the coming years. Many British urban areas are anticipated to have virtually whole new towns tacked onto them over the next decade, even if a sputtering housing market means that improbable government targets will not be met. Presumably had the ‘rate of capital accumulation’ been sustained, these urban conglomerations would have expanded even more.

Supporters of the idea that economic growth can be sustainable would counter that it can be directed by the state into beneficial and necessary things, such as public transport and public housing. Futurologist Jeremy Rifkin who predicts the end of capitalism in a ‘zero marginal cost’ society where copies of products can be produced for virtually nothing, believes transitioning economies from fossil fuels and nuclear power to renewable energy “will require millions of workers and spawn thousands of new businesses” (note however that that he thinks this will involve “one last surge” of wage labour and thus growth).

The Chinese Way

But it is stretching credulity to believe that all economic growth can be funnelled towards socially beneficial ends. China, the bête noire of America and the faltering West, presents an example. On the back of high public investment in infrastructure, China has achieved GDP growth rates the West can only dream about and lifted millions out of poverty. But, it was believed, this was bought at a price – exponential carbon emissions and falling life expectancy because of unbreathable air. At the Beijing Olympics in 2008, the Chinese authorities famously manipulated clouds to disperse smog, while life expectancy in northern China was five years below that of the south of the country because of air pollution.

Now, reportedly, such problems have been significantly assuaged because of the Chinese government’s war on pollution – pollution has declined by 42% in nine years, while air quality correspondingly enjoyed a massive improvement. In the face of climate change, China has also made huge investments in solar energy was a result of which the cost of generating electricity from solar has plummeted.

But pollution has not been vanquished. It is still six times higher than the World Health Organisation’s guidelines and in Beijing at about the level of Europe’s most polluted city Sarajevo. And air pollution-related deaths in China are projected to continue to rise despite the improvements.

China also features heavily in the UN’s Red List of endangered species, a fact clearly not unrelated to its high rate of economic growth.

Devil’s Pact

And in the West, where over two-thirds of economic growth can be attributed to consumption, the Left will face an additional problem. If it is to distinguish itself from the corporate automatons in government and opposition, it will not only want to encourage growth in some areas, but restrict it in others. A Left government, if it is worth its salt, will want, for example, to place restrictions on gambling or marketing to children.

It is unquestionable that the health of the UK economy has been significantly impaired by the fact that wages have been held down for years and incomes depleted. ‘Britain needs a pay rise’ as the slogan goes. But should it get one, part of that will inevitably go into becoming the willing prey of profit-driven market forces to an even greater extent. The exploitation of “culturally generated pseudo needs”, though clearly anti-social, has been a crucial element of the economic growth that has been achieved in the West (and elsewhere) in recent years, a chink of light, if you will, in an otherwise gloomy picture. Toxic consumption is a mainstay of the modern economy.

We face a quandary we seem only dimly aware of. In the corporate capitalist economy that we live in, if you don’t achieve economic growth – or only very anaemic growth – the result is misery, poverty, inequality, racism (probably in time fascism), rising public and private debt, and global conflict.

But if you do have growth, while, if it proceeds are equitably distributed, you relieve some of the pressure on individuals and government finances, you just accelerate global warming and environmental degradation, the relentless swallowing up of what’s left of the countryside, and acquiesce in the exploitation of our psychological vulnerabilities to the benefit of obscene corporate profits.

Eventually, actually probably quite soon, you hit a society that may be economically successful but that nobody wants to live in.

In the short-term this devil’s pact is, to varying degrees, in virtually everyone’s rational self-interest. But from a wider perspective it plainly isn’t in anyone’s, barring maybe that of a small, and insulted, ultra-rich elite.

Explaining Donald Trump

But then there is the problem of whether reviving economic growth is even possible – that the Left, if it by some miracle achieves power, will discredit itself in a futile drive to “save capitalism from itself”.

Looked at historically, the only time the capitalist system, in advanced countries, attained sustained healthy economic growth was in the period from 1950 until the mid-1970s – the so-called “thirty glorious years”.

In fact, according to a research group at the University of Manitoba in Canada, the reality may be even worse. Growth in Northern industrialised economies, they argue, has been falling, “with only brief and limited interruptions”, since the early 1960s.  If so, economic problems cannot be placed solely at the door of bad policy, such as neoliberalism, or economic trends, like financialisation. The findings, according to the report’s author, Alan Freeman, “shed light” on seismic political developments such as the rise of Donald Trump and the far-right, the implosion of the centre and centre-left, the growth of social unrest, and rising geo-political tensions across the world. But they also indicate that:

… limited measures, whether of a left character such as fiscal and monetary stimuli unaccompanied by state-led investment in new production, or of a right character, notably austerity, but also the free-market economic nationalism of Donald Trump and other such figures, are unlikely to resolve these problems.

Why should this be so? Although, there is no consensus on what led to the post WW2 economic boom, part of the explanation must surely lie in the fact that it was preceded by the most destructive conflict in human history. The Second World War was not only physically devastating, it also vaporized capital value – the mass of money that can be deployed to build up infrastructure or enterprises. Society could, so to speak, begin again.

However, that option is no longer available. In subsequent decades, economic downturns were dissipated by the soothing balm of state intervention and subsidy because, quite rationally, nobody wanted a return to the miseries of the Great Depression of the 1930s. Meanwhile, in the West, the forces leading to war (and thus destruction of capital) were consciously repressed.  

As a result, the ‘wall of money’ (capital) seeking profitable outlets, steadily grew, reaching astronomical levels. The other option, war among advanced countries, will likely lead to the end of human civilisation and the death of millions, though, astoundingly, western elites seem willing to toy with this possibility.

Such are the choices that the capitalist system, at this stage in history, presents us with.

Facing the Truth

In this 1998 book The Trouble with Capitalism, economist Harry Shutt argued against forever taking refuge in “limited measures”, against the comforting notion that capitalism could always be ‘rewired’ to work in more equitable, ‘greener’, and less amoral ways:

The truth must at last be faced that there is no realistic hope of expanding demand (and hence aggregate global output) fast enough to 1) Absorb the ever-accumulating capital surpluses generated by the private sector 2) Contain, let alone reduce, the rising burden of public-sector deficits and debt under the existing pattern of income distribution and taxation 3) reduce the huge gap between the super-rich and most other people.

And, given by now obvious environmental limits which place necessary restrictions on the expansion of the economy, the “traditional policy of seeking indiscriminately to maximise GDP will have to be jettisoned”.

In other words, growth is neither possible nor desirable.

The consequences of not striving to maximise GDP are two-fold: 1) that government finances will no longer depend, as they do now, on how much tax revenue can be squeezed out of the economy. And 2) that people’s living standards will no longer hinge, as they do now, on what they can extract from the economy from wage-labour or, if they are fortunate, from the ownership of property.

This might seem a frightening, in fact, unthinkable prospect, such are these two notions seared into our consciousness as just the way things are and always will be. However, it is important also to appreciate how much of a liberation a post-capitalist society will be. Society will be freed from the necessity to find profitable outlets for the huge wall of money seeking. At present this pathology manifests in profoundly anti-social ways such as speculation in food prices, which causes hunger around the world based on artificial, not genuine, scarcity, the privatisation mania, the hunt for profitable companies and public services that can be taken over using borrowed money and milked for returns, the vast weapons and security industry, the compulsion to seek more and more debt as a means to dabble on the stock and bond market, and the corporate juggernaut that looks on our psychological make-up as something to be exploited for profit.

Individuals, too, will be relieved from the necessity to secure their livelihood in the market and to suffer if they fail to. This has to mean that, for the first time in history, a person’s income will be unconditionally guaranteed.

All this may seems like a pipedream that will never happen except that it flows from two inescapable facts about the modern world – in Harry Shutt’s phraseology the “decline in demand” for both capital and labour.

Nature of the Problem

In Britain, the latter problem may seem belied by the eclipsing of the 4 million strong dole queues of the 1980s by high rates of employment. But the solving of the unemployment problem is in many ways illusory in that it is based on zero hour contracts, the dramatic rise of the ‘solo self-employed’ and the stifling of the healthy wage growth of previous decades. Certainly, wresting some kind of income from the economy – mimicking the huge “informal sectors” of the Global South – is not the same as the secure, decently-paid, and full-time jobs of the past.

And that is not getting into the contention of the late David Graeber that many white-collar jobs, while decently paid, are not only socially useless but economically pointless too. They are a form of “pretend work”.

But certainly, with demand for capital “fixed investment” (big things like factories and offices) in decline, there is no hope of reviving the benign equilibrium – where capital outlay and effective demand existed in a kind of symbiosis – of the post-WW2 years. And this mismatch cannot be nullified by abolishing zero-hour contracts, reinstituting collective bargaining, and welcoming back trade unions into the fold.

But there is no hope of understanding the need for a solution unless, first, the problem is recognised.

The Banality of Obedience

 

In trying to understand the Milgram obedience experiments, the most important thing, in my opinion, is not to be dazzled by what they purport to show. The surface narrative – still loyally recounted in popular renditions every time the name Stanley Milgram is uttered – is that ordinary people can effortlessly be transformed into heartless torturers, that beneath our civilised veneers lurk potential concentration camp guards. In the next breath there are, invariably, earnest warnings about the Nazis and the Holocaust.

In fact, the truth is simultaneously more mundane and more disturbing.

What Milgram actually said was that we easily allow ourselves to be turned into agents for those above us in hierarchical organisations, doing what they want rather than what we ourselves would do. “Relationship,” as he put it, “overwhelms content”. That content can involve inflicting pain and death but – and this is rarely remarked upon – it can also involve content that is neutral, even benevolent or merely one link in a chain whose ultimate purpose is destructive or damaging. The specific action might appear innocuous but when placed together with other innocent looking parts of the whole, the ‘end product’ might be immensely harmful.

The crucial element is the relationship. Clearly the Milgram experiment (s) would not have achieved lasting fame had he asked volunteers if they wouldn’t mind passing a stapler (‘Psychology professor reveals we are all stapler-passers under the surface!’). Though it would have been interesting to know if anyone would have refused.

Commonplace obedience

This little noticed element in obedience to authority in fact produced the highest obedience rates. When Milgram’s subjects were merely asked to read out the word-pairs while a confederate of the experimenter actually pressed the buzzer supposedly inflicting electric shocks (the experiment was presented as a test of the effect of punishment on memory), obedience levels went through the roof. They registered 92.5%, the highest in the entire series of experiments.

Most replications of Milgram in the 1960s and ‘70s produced broadly similar results. One study didn’t however. That was by Wesley Kilham and Leon Mann in Australia in 1974. They reported obedience as low as 40% (and 16% for female subjects). This was the “notable exception” alluded to in Part One. However, when Kilham’s and Mann’s subjects became mere ‘runners’ – transmitting the experimenter’s instructions to a person playing the role of the teacher/shocker – disobedience was transformed into obedience. It hit 68% for men and 40% for women.

This is how contemporary obedience researchers, Dariusz Doliński and Tomasz Grzyb, describe this variation of the Kilham and Mann study:

As it turned out, people whose task was simply to transmit successive instructions to press the generator’s switches were even more pliant than those who – as in Milgram’s original experiment – were supposed to be the direct (physical) culprits responsible for causing physical pain to another person. This demonstrates that the role of being a cog in the bureaucratic machine facilitates the sense that one is neither the instigator of anything evil, nor directly causing any harm. As can be seen, in this particular type of situation, it is particularly easy to generate submissiveness and obedience. (From The Social Psychology of Obedience Towards Authority, pp 39-40)

The “particular type of situation” which lends itself so effortlessly to kindling submissiveness and obedience, is as emblematic of the corporation – which is in essence a private bureaucracy – as it is of the state machine. This is difficult to see in part because of the vehement ideology of freedom that accompanies corporate capitalism. But it is also obscured by the image, assiduously developed over the last 40 years or so, of the individual as a self-interested aggrandizer, always on the look-out for the best online deals, demanding faultless service, perpetually seeking fitness and attractiveness, constantly honing their CV. We may be irredeemably selfish but under a ‘free market’ system, we answer only to ourselves and our own desires.

However this was never true and still isn’t. As noted by the mid-20^th century economic historian Karl Polanyi, if we were purely self-interested negotiators always seeking the highest price for selling the commodity of our own labour, as theoretically we should do under the ‘laws’ of the market economy, we would be “almost continually on strike”. This obviously isn’t the case and is not solely due to coercion and the power of the law and the police. The added ingredient is the power of obedience.

The vast majority of us willingly enter – or we think we do – Milgram’s agentic state, where we temporarily become instruments for the wishes of people above us in the hierarchy (as they are instruments for people above them). The crucial element, as Milgram observed, is the sense of voluntary choice. This creates a sense of obligation, allied to a feeling of being absolved of any real responsibility, which is a powerful and dangerous brew.

The element of our economy which is always stressed by the media and the powerful is our freedom as consumers. But this, as the book elaborates, is at best half the story. We also spend much of our lives within – or bound to – hierarchical organisations which operate under the expectation of unquestioning obedience.  

As above, so below

It would be a mistake to think this cast of mind is restricted to the lower half of the economy, though it may be more explicit there. Most of us are agents for others. Since the 1970s, for example, ‘the agency theory of the firm’ has grown in popularity. This asserts that a company’s senior managers (chief exec, head of finance etc., often on salaries which place them in the 0.01%) are mere ‘agents’ of its ‘principals’, the shareholders, and should be expected to do their bidding. Whether these managers are in fact genuine agents for the company’s owners is open to question. At the higher echelons of the economy, people often have the power and wealth to pursue their own interests. But what is interesting is that they’re expected to be٭.

If anything obedience has grown in intensity since Milgram’s time, though not in the way that might be first thought. It occupies an unrecognised, though essential, space in the economy. Thanks to burgeoning information technology, ‘scientific management’ can control and keep tabs on employees’ behaviour in ways never dreamed of by its 20^th century pioneers. In efforts to increase productivity and minimize ‘loafing’, workers are regularly spied on and tracked by their own smartphones, with data compiled about their activities. Online wanderings are subject to screen capture and keystroke monitoring.  In some cases, a worker’s every action is planned out by headsets or hand-held devices, with punishment for deviation.

As one writer observes, this is not just about maximising profitability but “a vision of obedience and acquiescence”.

Gratefully oppressed

What makes these developments especially sinister is that they are accompanied by a powerful feeling that, beyond extreme infractions, this is the way things should be. In a market economy, where we freely choose which little dictatorship to rent ourselves out to, it is only natural that we obey the instructions of superiors.

In The Social Psychology of Obedience Towards Authority, Doliński and Grzyb give numerous examples of employees, or people assuming the role of employees in psychological experiments, obeying the instructions of superiors to carry out ethically dubious actions. For instance, racially selecting new employees or marketing an unsafe drug. Interestingly, the crucial factor does not seem to be an inherent desire to maximise profits, but fulfilling the wishes of senior figures in the organization of which these ‘employees’ are a part.

In my opinion, this is a form of obedience unique to the corporate capitalism societies we inhabit. There is an often fervent identification with the interests and aims of employers but one that can be seamlessly transferred to a competitor. This is serial obedience – in contrast to older types of obedience, around a nation or a religion for example, which tend to be quite fixed.

This feeling of habitual obedience is stiffened by a pervasive aura of disposability – the fear that if we don’t live up to expectations there is always someone else, maybe a robot, who can replace us. In this mindset, there is nothing wrong with obedience. Quite the opposite, it is questioning obedience that is pathological.

Evolution’s children

The natural objection to this thesis is that obedience is not imposed on us, but evident throughout history – so much so that it might be thought of as part of human nature.  In The Disobedient Society I refute Milgram’s contention (which echoes historical giants like Darwin) that obedience is an “evolutionary adaptation”. Actually, the evidence suggests that early humanity was able to knowingly flit between hierarchical and egalitarian social relations. Features such elite rule, social ranking or territoriality might be put into effect at certain times of the year and then dissolved. This indicates an element of choice in obedience which debars it from being a genetic flaw, or depending on your view, an innate advantage.

I refer also to Murray Bookchin’s distinction between first and second nature. Evolution, in the form of first nature, endows humans with the capacity to develop extra-biological tools and to consciously intervene in the natural world through a sophisticated collective organisation. However, the nature of this collective organisation is not determined by first nature. It lies in the realm of second nature – the domain of experimentation which can take many forms and is not governed by the ‘laws’ of natural selection.

The belief that obedience is immovable really relies on a different contention, however. That with the fragmentation of tasks within the complex organisations of the modern world, a degree of obedience is essential. We can never return to the simple freedom of earlier stages of human development, where a person might undertake an action and see it through to completion without the input of others. In short, if we want civilisation, we have to have obedience.

I don’t believe, however, that obedience is synonymous with the division of labour. Rather it is a kind of reflex, an unthinking giving away of authority and ethical responsibility to others. Obedience has a habitual character – it is a form of behaviour it is easy to slip into without noticing.

But the habit can be broken, just as a person who is lightly dozing can be jolted into wakefulness. Despite its tenacious hold, the origins of obedience are not evolutionary. And disobedience, does not, in spite of its reputation, repudiate complex organisation and discipline. Murray Bookchin coined the phrase “episodic sovereignty” – in reference to the Indian Crow societies of North America – to indicate how the yielding of individual initiative can be temporary and limited to rational and well-defined ends. Permanent institutions based on the expectation of command and obedience are not inevitable.

Basic disobedience

Not inevitable, but certainly well-entrenched, however.  I would suggest that if the grip of obedience is to be loosened, radical steps need to be taken. One is a basic income set at a level that a person can live well on without the need to become an “agent” for the hierarchical organisations that pepper and essentially control society. This would instil a sense of confidence and security, a willingness to breach conformist norms and the self-assurance to resist the demands of ‘the economy’. The cowed and malleable workforce of today would be transcended and more genuine forms of democracy might follow.

Secondly the perpetual motion machine of capitalism needs to be halted. At its molecular level capitalism entails the re-investment of profits which leads (usually) to more profits which have to be reinvested again, and so on ad infinitum. This leads to an irresistible imperative to meet existing consumer demand, and create new needs to satisfy this ever-growing “wall of money”. Thus the signature institutions of capitalist society embody obedience – hierarchical organisation with employees obeying precise instructions from above – as simply the most efficient means to achieve the task in hand. If society is ever to advance beyond command and obedience, this background fixation needs to change.

I am not suggesting that obedience did not exist before capitalism or that it may not infuse the kind of society that will exist after capitalism. But Milgram’s insistence on the essentially voluntary nature of obedience makes him, sixty years after his original obedience experiments, presciently relevant.

 

٭ The problem of a corporation’s executives not actually being genuine agents for its owners was thought to have been circumvented by paying them partly in stock options. This, it was believed, would align their interests with those of the shareholders, in that both would want a high share price. However this ‘solution’ also managed to subvert a core principle of the market economy. Theoretically, a company share price should reflect whether investors think it will make healthy profits – and thus pay healthy dividends – in the future.  However, paying executives partly in stock options encouraged the practice of share buy backs, whereby a company buys its own shares to jack up the overall price. This practice was legalised in Britain in 1981 and in the US the following year. Share buys backs are now a huge ‘industry’, ironically diverting funds which may have gone into actual industry.