Saturday, June 30, 2012

More cynicism masquerading as a political strategy

An nyt op-ed asks, "How liberals win," and the answer is apparently, "By losing to corporations 2/3 of what they were originally seeking."

This is not really untrue. "Progressive" elected officials have immense difficulty accomplishing anything against the wishes of the business class. I like, by the way, how the author waves away everything accomplished by FDR in the "Second New Deal" over the implacable opposition of capital on the back of a huge labor upsurge.
Roosevelt may be remembered for his combativeness toward corporations; he famously said, “I welcome their hatred.” But he said that in 1936, only after key New Deal legislation had passed with the help of the United States Chamber of Commerce and the American Bankers Association.
The thing is, NIRA wasn't really all that "key" in the long run: it failed to end the Depression and its labor provisions were essentially a dead letter. Maybe they helped to feed the strike wave that set the environment for the passage (and survival under challenges) of the NLRA. (Also, Johnson's signal achievements were a tax cut, some environment regulations, and the department of transportation? Riiiiight...)

So yes, absent that, it's immensely difficult to get anything done that corporations are intent on opposing relatively vigorously and unanimously. This doesn't actually mean that "working with" them, as Obama did, generated better outcomes. The criticism of Obama from the "progressive" wing of the Democratic party is not that he makes concessions, it's that he makes them pre-emptively and excessively. Sorry, but the stimulus and obamacare were not the New Deal. There's a difference between giving up a few things to get the big stuff through and giving up everything in return for a symbolic win.

This is a better response:
You see, giving corporations total control of politics does come with certain difficulties. Corporations are accustomed to getting their way on everything, but the problem with that is that they aren’t always good at compromising with each other. So what happens when one corporate interest comes into conflict with another? What happens when every corporation can’t win on every issue every time? It doesn’t happen often, of course, but occasionally it does happen. Here is where we still need the semblance of a government by and for and of the people: to cast the tie-breaking vote and figure out which corporate sector will get to have everything they desire. The health insurance industry wanted a health care law requiring citizens to buy its products, but the Chamber of Commerce represented businesses that didn’t want to take away from workers’ life and death dependence on their employers for health care. It was quite a pickle! Luckily, the helpful hand of the US government was able to step in and negotiate a compromise.
* * *
But despite this utterly reasonable state of affairs, there is one minor fly in the ointment: because things we want are simply not possible to achieve, we run into the problem that the word “win” threatens to fall out of common usage. Once we’ve accepted permanent defeat, what would that word be used to indicate? Luckily Scher has the answer: we’ll just change its meaning. We will use the word “win” to describe “whatever it is our side manages to do.”

Friday, June 29, 2012

Cynicism masquerading as a political strategy

Alan Scott, "Development Theory and the Constitution of Market Society: A Polanyian View" Comparative Sociology.
In its latter capacity [as "market modifier"] the state is, and indeed must be, the legitimate and prime target of claims making with respect to the defence of society, social groups and communities against self-regulating markets.

The dilemma for radical approaches is thus twofold: the non-appearance of its targeted addressees on the one hand, and the rejection of policy bodies and policy makers as potential addressees on the other. The result is that much of the left has evacuated the field of policy debate. This leaves us in a situation where we find, on the one side, a frequently Panglossian discourse of “good governance” and, on the other, self-marginalizing critique. The “neo-liberal” project has had a smooth ride through the middle. And yet, even those institutions and individuals charged with governing the latest wave of deregulation and the free flow of real and fictitious commodities have become increasingly aware of the adverse effects. So, the policy debate goes on, but it does so on a terrain on which a broadly Polanyian approach provides the best hope for defending communities and “social assets” against markets, and for supporting regulation. The price to pay for participating in such debates is a lowering of expectations: with no post-capitalist option in prospect and no realistic opt out from the international system at the national level, hopes must rest on a partial defence against the effects of markets; a partial reembedding of the economy. This is the context, rather than the brute fact of the current global financial crisis referred to at the start of the paper, that makes Polanyi’s analysis once more relevant: his position is closer to those (progressive) voices which do get heard in policy circles.
No political movement--whether based on class or nationalism--is to be realistically expected, and so if there is to be any blunting of neoliberalism, it is only going to be achieved by "participating in [policy] debates." When, where, and with whom is not entirely clear, but the implication is officials of states and other institutions "charged with governing the latest wave of deregulation and the free flow of real and fictitious commodities," which presumably includes the IMF and the World Bank, as well as aid agencies and major donors. In other words, moderate your demands and you'll have a shot at convincing elites of the necessity of "a partial defence against the effects of markets; a partial reembedding of the economy."

It's true that there don't appear to be more radical alternatives on the immediate horizon, but the author seems to be taking this as evidence that trying to convince officials has a chance of working. Saying that officials of international organizations are "increasingly aware of the adverse effects" of unrestrained markets is perhaps an understatement, but it is true that the neoliberal language of the World Bank (for instance) was seriously toned down beginning in the late 90s. However, it's not like the underlying ideology has changed, it's just expressed with more caution. Is there really an opening for a "Polanyian approach"? Has neoliberalism been ascendant for lack of convincing ideological competitors?

Considering the continued dominance of supposedly market-perfecting "structural reform" as the political agenda, for instance in Europe during its ongoing crisis, despite the repeated financial blowups of the past couple decades, one has to suspect that the policies keep getting put forward because despite their costs for most people, they've been working quite well for someone. Or perhaps, it'd be more accurate to say something--perhaps financial capital, perhaps transnational capital, perhaps nothing more complicated than each individual country's elites. If it's working fine for them, and if "defense" would entail at least constraining their interests, it going to be hard to convince the bureaucrats and intellectuals who have made careers giving them what they want that a new approach is needed. This is of course what social movements are for: the mechanism by which the injury to the interests of non-elite social groups is transmuted into a cost to the elites, giving them a compelling reason to accept the lasting but predictable costs of concessions.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

The Political Process of Tokugawa-era Japan, in 2000 words

The Tokugawa house established itself as the hegemonic military power in Japan in 1600, and it formally received the title of feudal monarch (sei-i tai-shōgun) from the (essentially powerless) emperor in 1603. The authority of the Tokugawa rested, first, on its ruling by far the single largest domain, representing about a quarter of Japan’s agricultural productive capacity in the seventeenth century and, second, on the formal subordination of all other lords to it as vassals. The around 270 magnate lords held their domains as fiefs and were subject to the monarchy’s regulations, which focused on lords’ military capacity, their relations with each other, and the management of their personal households. Nonetheless, in practice the monarchy intervened relatively little in the lords’ rule of their domains. The Tokugawa periodically exercised the right to demand service from the lords—during the long period in which there was no need for military mobilization, this was primarily for various construction projects—but the monarchy did not tax the lords’ subjects directly.

The magnate lords—and the feudal monarchy in the territories it directly ruled—had the power to make and enforce laws and to impose and collect taxes in their domains. For this purpose, each domain had its own administrative and coercive apparatus, staffed by the lord’s hereditary vassal samurai. As late as the sixteenth century, the samurai had been a genuine class of self-equipped knights, holding fiefs from their lords and owing military service in return. However, over the course of the solidification of the Tokugawa-era political order, by the latter half of the seventeenth century the samurai had largely been converted into urban rentiers and civil officials. They lived in the capitals of their lords, and the vast majority received a fixed share of domain tax revenues rather than directly managing their own fiefs. There was a steep hierarchy of income and status among the samurai, with more powerful or prestigious offices restricted to men of a specific wealth and status level. Moreover, the number of samurai attached to each lord was fixed in line with the large armies of the late sixteenth century, and so there were far more candidates than positions in the domain administrations, leaving a large number of men in the relatively lower ranks of the samurai unemployed. Nonetheless, the samurai as a whole were clearly marked off from the population of commoners, who were excluded from service in domain administrations and military forces.

A side effect of pulling the samurai off the land into the castle-towns was that villages (and urban communities) were granted a great deal of day-to-day autonomy as long as they broadly followed the rulers' laws and (for villages) paid their taxes. This situation had the surface appearance of homogeneous peasant population clearly demarcated from a "warrior" stratum who lived by extracting the peasantry's surplus. In reality, the demarcation of the samurai from the "peasantry" in the 16th and 17th centuries left a stratum of small-scale landlords, who had been borderline "warriors" in the preceding era, in the villages. These gentry were formally "peasants," and they were effectively de-militarized by the solidification of the new political order, but they typically lived off the labor of tenants and dependent servants, in some cases retained certain symbolic privileges otherwise restricted to samurai (such as having a surname or carrying a sword), and were nearly universally named as village officials by the domain administrations. Their position was ambiguous, since on the one hand they were responsible for the collection and payment of taxes, which were assessed by the state on the village as a whole, and for ensuring that the peasants obeyed the lords' laws. They could be--and often were--punished by the lords for failure to do these things. Yet, they also paid taxes, and the domain administrations provided them with little in the way of resources to coerce the peasantry. Thus, at the same time as they were the bottom rung of the exploitative apparatus--and themselves exploiters of peasant labor--they both shared interests with the rest of the peasantry and were forced to bow to some extent to the will of the village community and to act as its representatives against the lords.

The fundamental purpose of these political institutions, which are typically known as the bakuhan system (referring to the combination of feudal monarchy = bakufu and domains = han), was to eliminate the tendencies towards destructive conflict within the ruling class that had characterized the centuries preceding the "unification" of the end of the 16th century. By establishing clearly the lines of authority and the distinct powers of different levels within the elite, the ruling class as a whole would be able to focus on living the good life on resources extracted from the productive classes, especially the peasantry. Indeed, on this criteria, it worked incredibly well, providing over two centuries without any serious, armed conflict within the class of lords.

Yet, it was not exempt from the crisis dynamics of a pre-capitalist social formation. For the first century or so, until the early 18th century, both the Japanese economy and the revenues of the ruling class grew comfortably. This was accomplished by an expanding area of arable land, filled by a growing population, paying proportionately increasing taxes. By the early 18th century, however, the availability of additional land for agricultural expansion had been mostly used up. The lords and their vassals, however, found it difficult to curtail their spending to match the newly constrained fiscal situation, and as a result debt (especially to the merchants who handled the transport and sale of tax-rice) expanded throughout the ruling class and some lords began the practice (that would become nearly universal) of cutting into the revenues of their vassals to fill holes in their own budgets.

The response of the lordly class, exemplified by the shogunate's "kyoho reforms" of the 1720s-30s, was to attempt to increase tax revenue, to constrain spending, and to hold down prices for consumer goods and luxuries both by fiat and by restricting commoner consumption. The results of these policies were mixed in the short run, but in the medium to long-term they could not be maintained and had deep unintended consequences. The increase in taxation came just as the reduced availability of new land was encouraging the fragmentation of land-holdings and reducing the margin of subsistence among the peasantry. In this context, protest against higher taxes could only be expected. Indeed, these protests were often led by the wealthy stratum of landowning gentry who were recognized as local village authorities by the domain administrations, since they too paid taxes to the lords.

However, the higher taxes had another, invidious effect on the peasantry. Through the early eighteenth century, the official policy of the shogunate and the magnate lords' domains was usually to encourage the establishment of peasants on independent, household-based subsistence plots in favor of the large gentry estates worked by dependent labor that had been common in the preceding period. This policy never removed inequality within the peasantry, but it did have visible consequences in the distribution of landownership. Yet, the imperative to increase tax revenue came into contradiction with this policy, since the lords' fiscal administrations lacked the capacity to specifically target higher taxes at the wealthiest rural residents--not least because this same gentry stratum typically controlled the distribution and collection of taxes within the villages as officials who simultaneously functioned as the conduit for lords' orders to peasants and represented the peasant communities to the lords. At best, tax increases would be distributed proportionately to landholdings--even though peasants with holdings barely sufficient to support their families in good years could much less afford to pay more--and often (if the recurrent complaints made by poor peasants are believed) the gentry foisted a disproportionate share of the tax burden on their poorer neighbors. Either way, the result was that the poorer and less lucky among the peasantry increasingly found themselves unable to pay their taxes in relatively poor years. In such a situation--unless it was bad enough that the entire village could be mobilized to demand a temporary reducing in the tax burden--the peasants' only option was to ask one their villages' wealthier families to fill the gap with a loan. These loans were typically secured by a fraction of the borrowers' landholdings. But, the interest on such a loan only made the peasants' situation that much more precarious, and it was quite common for such mortgaged land to become the property of the lender and the borrower a rent-paying tenant on his own land. The shogunate and the magnate lords' domains issued orders prohibiting such transactions and the concentration of land that resulted, but they were unwilling or unable to enforce them. The shogunate's prohibition on foreclosure was rescinded two years after it was issued. The lords would not challenge the position of the gentry, who they had in effect deputized to maintain rural order.

The second unintended consequences of the early-18th century "reforms" was that increasing competition for reduced lordly demand increased the impetus for the merchants and artisans of the great cities to seek out cheaper sources of raw materials or regionally produced goods in rural areas. Often, this entailed naming members of the gentry as purchasing agents, thereby linking these wealthy landholders into the Japan-wide commercial network that had grown up to fulfill the lordly demand that the bakuhan system concentrated in the various magnate lords' castle-towns and, above all, Edo. Over time, however, these gentry, even as landlordship and usury remained their primary (and most stable) sources of income, increasingly sought to break out of the subordinate position in which the urban merchants sought to keep them. These rural merchants accomplished this by developing their own expanded commercial networks, increasing the number of buyers with which they dealt or cutting out the middlemen to sell directly to the retailers of Edo, and by promoting proto-industrial by-employments like spinning and weaving among the peasantry. Since the peasants could accept lower wages precisely because they worked in handicrafts only as a side-line to agriculture, gentry proto-industrialists found they could easily undercut the established urban merchants and artisans.

The competition between the established merchants and the provincial and rural upstarts came to represent a signal fiscal opportunity for the lordly class. In return for assistance in assuring relatively open access to the consumer demand concentrated in Edo, rural merchants could be induced to pay back some of their profits to their lords. Conversely, the established merchants of Osaka and Edo would likewise be willing to pay the shogunate for protection of their privileged position in Japan's commercial network. However, these two fiscal strategies were contradictory: if individual domains were going to promote their own producers and merchants, that would have to come at the expense of the established merchants and producers. If the shogunate was to enforce the privileges of the merchants of Osaka, that would entail effectively restricting the activity of merchants and producers in the various domains. This contradiction was the root of the political conflict that accompanied the ascendancy of the shogunate official Tanuma Okitsugu in the latter half of the 18th century and ultimately led to his replacement by Matsudaira Sadanobu. Tanuma sought to assert the shogunate's primacy in fiscal and economic policy; the opposition of the magnate lords ultimately brought him down. Sadanobu's "Kansei reforms" adopted elements from and claimed the mantle of his grandfather the Shogun Yoshimune's Kyoho reforms, but to describe his policy as simply a "conservative reaction" is to miss the point of the conflicts within the ruling class. He removed Tanuma's commercial policies, but he himself as lord implemented policies to promote rural commerce in his own domain and did nothing to prevent other lords' doing the same. He wrote down samurai debt, but he also for the first time organized a merchant-financed and -administered emergency fund for the city of Edo.

From the end of the 18th century onwards, then, the various domains were given a largely free hand to experiment with commercial and economic policies in order to buttress their precarious fiscal positions. In order to formulate and administer these plans, the domains increasingly began to promote relatively low-ranking members of their vassal bands into positions of authority. For the first time since the formative period of the era, something like social mobility among the samurai became possible again, but in addition the trend of experimental commercial policies promoted an expansion of horizontal ties among the middle and lower strata samurai across domains. This arose directly from the orientation of the new policies to the national commercial network but also from the increasing circulation of students studying outside their domains and experts brought in to try to establish some new industry. The middle- and lower-ranked samurai who were appointed as reformists to influential offices were promoted because of their "ability," and this above all meant education, and the academic world of the latter half of the Tokugawa era cut across the boundaries of domain and vassal band.

In addition, what was new about the new commercial policies was not so much that they tried to draw fiscal benefits from cash crops and handicrafts; various domains had been doing that since the beginning of the era if not before. Instead, as an overall tendency, they entailed an even closer relation of cooperation between the domain administrations and the gentry. It was the latter who typically coordinated the introduction of new crops or industries in their localities, who administered programs for inspection or financial support, and, after all, who frequently were the merchants whose activity the domains were trying to encourage. If the lordly class had shied away from challenging the gentry in the first half of the 18th century, from the end of that century onwards they transformed and strengthened their alliance with that stratum. On paper, most domains still officially prohibited the alienation of peasants' lands and many discouraged (or even prohibited) peasants from cultivating crops other than rice or doing non-agricultural work, but in their actual practice they had broadly adapted to the new semi-commercialized economy.

All, however, was not well in the domains. For one thing, the basic problems of small holdings, a heavy tax burden, and debt leading to tenancy continued to plague the peasantry. If anything, the reconstituted alliance between the lords and the gentry only made matters worse, and increasingly, instead of being led in relatively formalized protests against taxes by village officials (i.e. the gentry), peasants attacked not just the domain administrations but also the merchants and landlords who exploited them in debt and tenancy. It is possible to discern especially in the 19th century a growing sense of unease at the threat of popular unrest throughout the elite, including not just samurai officials and intellectuals but also the gentry.

In addition, the fiscal situation of the domains was in many cases improved but far from good. The practice of "borrowing" from samurai stipends remained nearly universal, and periods of relatively healthy revenues and constrained expenses were typically followed by reversions to laxity and burgeoning debt. Politically, the possibility for promotion among relatively low-ranked vassals gave rise to the formation of factions that competed for office. Since appointment to office still depended ultimately on the arbitrary will of the lord, what the different factions competed for was his favor. Since, moreover, the tendency to appoint less elite vassals to office only modified but did not replace the entrenched influence of the lord's highest-ranked vassals--who of course had a vested interest in minimizing disruption to the status quo--their discontent with the policies of a particular clique in office was often sufficient to win its ouster and replacement by competitors. The result was a pattern of periodic reshuffling of the domain administrations, preventing the consistent implementation of reform programs (especially when those reforms challenged the interests of highest-ranked vassals).

I've come to really dislike Juan Cole

His Middle East commentary used to be interesting, but he's really turned out to be a partisan Democrat with some liberal interventionist leanings.

Supreme Court declines to take US Health Care in direction of Sub-Saharan Africa

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

"Stabilizing prices is immoral"

Part of the continuing series "Steve Waldman's idiosyncratic theories of U.S. political economy."

Stabilizing prices is immoral:
In the real world, of course, we usually see something between a policy of pure price restraint and a symmetrical price targeting regime. And usually, price stabilization is implemented via monetary policy. We assiduously provide insurance to creditors and the securely employed, but haphazardly reward debtors and the marginally employed when they least need help. Price stabilization is social insurance we provide to the most secure members of our society, while the bill is paid in lost purchasing power and increased risk by the least secure. Further, the benefits of price stabilization accrue disproportionately to the largest creditors and to holders of high-salary secure jobs. Preserving the purchasing power of a billion dollar stash is a lot more valuable than preserving the value of fifty bucks in a bank account. Price stabilization is an incredibly regressive form of social insurance, a program whose distributional ghastliness would be abhorrent to most people if it were not conveniently submerged. But the transfers engendered by price stabilization are politically invisible, obscured by the money veil. Since they benefit the most influential and harm the most marginal in our society, this ghastly policy is politically untouchable.
The point, broadly speaking, is that contrary to what economists on both the left and right seem to assume in their arguments, the point of (neoliberal) monetary policy in practice is not "macroeconomic stabilization," but instead the maintenance of economic conditions conducive to the interests of a specific political and economic bloc.

For future reference

Feudalism!
幕藩体制の眼目である農民支配と収奪については、家康の信任をうけて天領の農民収奪体系の基礎をつくった本多正信が、「百姓は天下の根本なり。これを治るに法あり、まず一人一人の田地の境目をよくたて、さて一年の入用・作食をつもらせ、その余を年貢に収むべし。百姓は財の余らぬように、不足なきように収むること、道なり」 (p. 265 in Inoue Kiyoshi. 1963. History of Japan, Volume I. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten.)
"Hotta Masanobu, who was entrusted by Ieyasu to build the foundation of the extractive apparatus for the shogunate's domains, wrote of the rule and exploitation of the peasantry, which was the core of the bakuhan political system, 'The peasants are the roots of the realm. There is a law for the rule of them: first, establish well the boundaries of each individual's holdings; then, each year, while allowing them to retain enough for their needs, tax off the rest. The proper way is that the peasants should have left neither any surfeit nor dearth.'"

Everything old is new again

The extent to which the basic political configuration in the U.S. today reproduces that of the 1920s and early 30s is sometimes breath-taking.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-06-26/how-wall-street-lobbyists-created-the-socialist-smear.html

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Unusual Angles on History

Scott Sumner:
Younger blog readers who rely heavily on the NYT for  information might be under the impression that the 1980s tax cuts for the rich were enacted due to the evil Republicans.  Actually, almost every single developed country cut its top MTR during the 1980s and 1990s.  And liberal Democrats in America also supported the cuts.  The past is another country—you had to be there to understand.
This is called not getting the memo. Public opinion is at best deeply split on the reduced progressivity of the tax code, and so it is deemed necessary to pretend the Democrats provide an alternative. Pointing out that they're not only goes to show that they haven't been a representative of the Left in decades. Of course, this has nothing to do with "trying to help the country," but it's Sumner's job to pretend it is, so whatever.

Come to think of it, Sumner's schtick is precisely to not get the memo, as it were. That's the source of his aura of right-wing principled independence, which verges on a kind of technocratic political incoherence.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Pure WTF

This is not correct:
Today then, to be against socialism and remotely realistic about how to generate economic growth, one must be a Keynesian and call for an unbalanced budget. To fall on the other side and call for total austerity will merely get you booted out of office and pave the way for Big Government socialists to destroy the private sector through increasing government spending and taxation.

Will the conservatives realise this before it is too late? Fat chance. The conservative class have become extremely myopic in the past thirty or forty years. They have invested themselves in dogmatic and unpragmatic free-market ideologies that have always been fantasies and in doing so have completely blinded themselves to the bigger picture. Their own idiocy will destroy them – and in their foolishness they will pave the way for their own expropriation.
This is a particularly poorly executed example of the old center-left bluff of "listen to us or what comes along will be far worse." It's a bluff. They know it's a bluff. And above all they find it funny that you think that their policy platform is "myopic" following "dogmatic and unpragmatic free-market ideologies" that is no better than "idiocy" and "foolishness."

If the ruling classes in the era of their most unchallenged ideological and political hegemony (not to mention exclusive economic prosperity) seem to you to be idiots and fools, perhaps you're the one who has "blinded themselves to the bigger picture."

Friday, June 08, 2012

Old school

The final paragraph (emphasis added) of Raju J. Das, "Reconceptualizing Capitalism: Forms of
Subsumption of Labor, Class Struggle, and Uneven Development," Review of Radical Political Economics 44(2).
Finally, whether or not capitalism exists is not a matter of academic squabbling. The concept of what is present determines what needs to be absented (to use the terminology of the radical philosopher Roy Bhaskar). To say that a social formation is decidedly capitalist has a different political implication than the contrary view that it is not capitalist (enough), or that it is capitalist here and there but not everywhere. If a country is dominantly semi-feudal or not capitalist enough, then the radical strategy is seen by many as one which is to be directed against semi-feudal exploiters or at the promotion of advanced capitalism. This strategy licenses an indefinite wait for the fight for socialism (abolition of class relations) to start. But if what is present is already capitalism, albeit one that is not very progressive and that is unlikely to be very progressive for a very long time, the nature of class politics must be seen in a radically different manner.
This is almost nostalgic; it was the core of the debate on the nature of Japanese capitalism between the "lecture" and "farmer-labor" schools of Japanese Marxists in the 20s-30s, over the seemingly ephemeral distinction between whether what resulted from the Meiji Restoration was a capitalist state characterized by economic underdeveloped and authoritarianism or else an "absolutist" (i.e. essentially feudal) state that was promoting limited capitalist industrialization. Toyama Shigeki, writing in the 50s and 60s, pointed out that really the analytical distance between the two positions was not that great. It was so intense because it was at heart a political argument: over whether what was needed was to "complete" the establishment of liberal bourgeois democracy or else to begin mobilizing for socialism directly. The subtext of Toyama's reassessment and synthesis was that since the political debate was essentially moot, it was possible to look at the intellectual question with a more objective eye. What's so old school about this passage is that the author seems to be still operating with the same political categories that motivated the debate over Japanese capitalism. The article is oddly thin on discussion of the why he adopts the definition of capitalism he does and why the cases he considers conforms to it. In the end, I think the real motivation is the issue raised in this paragraph: it is necessary to define whatever is there as capitalism in order to justify struggling against it and not for the establishment of capitalism. But this is a non-sequitur: if there is an alternative way to organize economic development to the establishment of capitalism, then let's hear it. On the other hand, the fundamental problem to which "establish capitalism" is supposed to be a solution is that in a non-dynamic agrarian economy there isn't much social surplus to fight over; higher wages and lower wages make a difference, but in the long-run only productivity improvements will seriously change the standard of living. And he gives no response to this, and in fact, though he seems to want to suggest that it is successful demands for higher wages and lower rents that compels greater investment in machinery, his examples don't really show that very consistently.

The reason to prefer a theory of capitalist that includes productivity improvements as a necessary consequence or at least strong tendency is that this is something that historically clearly marks out the capitalist epoch. Lots of other things are much more universal: tenancy, usury, wage labor, exploitation, market exchange, inequality, and so on. A concept of capitalism that is based on elements like those would cover a wider swath of space and time in human society, but it would be consequently less interesting because it would simply push the question of economic dynamism one step back--what kind of capitalist economy displays the characteristic patterns of economic development?

Thursday, June 07, 2012

Depressing facts of academic life

Fukase-Indergaard, Fumiko or Michael Indergaard. 2008. “Religious Nationalism and the Making of the Japanese State.” Theory and Society 37: 343-374.
This article explores the role of religious nationalism in the making of the modern Japanese State. We describe a process of adaptation featuring bricolage, as an alternative to imitation accounts of non-Western State formation that privilege Western culture. The Meiji State, finding it could not impose Shintô as a State religion, selectively drew from religio-nationalist currents and Western models for over two decades before institutionalizing State Shintô. Although we see some similarities to Europe, distinctive features of the Japanese case suggest a different path to modernity: a lack of Separation between State and religion, an emphasis on ritual and a late (and historically Condensed) development of popular religious nationalism, which was anchored by State Shintô disciplinary devices including school rituals and shrines deifying the war dead.
This could be the abstract of an entirely respectable, if somewhat niche, history article. But it's not. Instead it just summarizes well-known (and frankly, mostly out of date) secondary sources on Tokugawa-era religion and the Meiji state and its religious policies. There are some vague attempts to differentiate the argument, but frankly from the thinness of the research and evidence I'd bet on the authors they criticize being right. Despite nods to negotiation, the story in the end is all about state initiatives, which hit obstacles at first but eventually settled into hegemony. Why? Who knows? Is it supposed to be our job to figure that out? And despite claiming to be comparative, there's not actually any specific contrast between the development of "religious nationalism" or its manifestation in "ritual" elsewhere--Peasants into Frenchmen, anyone? Tacked onto this is an unfocused 7-page literature review that seems to amount to an attempt to ride Philip Gorski's coattails (when it's not just reproducing arguments made by Ikegami without any attempt to differentiate that I can see whatsoever). I am perfectly happy to add blame for this onto his ledger.