Masters Thesis:
Two Accounts of Industry: Human-Technical Object Relations in
the Work of Gilbert Simondon and Karl Marx
SID: 10623337
Supervisor: Federica Russo
University of Amsterdam 2016
Introduction……….3
Chapter I: A System of Defence………..8
Chapter II: The Limits of Binary Modelling………..18
Chapter III: Milling Technology and Creativity………32
Chapter IV: Mileux, Technical Riseaux and Modifications………39
Conclusion……….52
Bibliography………..54
This thesis is a comparative study designed to draw out the differences between Gilbert Simondon
and Karl Marx’s philosophy of technology. By interpreting these theories in parallel this work
uncovers the methods, and conclusions, produced by these philosophers, showing where, and why
they disagree. Ultimately, Simondon’s account is seen as preferable; quite simply as it answers many
issues that Marx fails to recognise, or indeed, completely ignores. To put it plainly, Marx was
concerned about technology, believing that it threatened humanity in certain ways, whereas Simondon
was interested in this subject, expanding his ontology in order to create a framework which could
actually account for it, without relying on preconceived, prescriptive, ideas.
By combining ontological theory with historic and sociological observations these authors
produced unprecedented accounts of technology, unifying several disciplines around their research.
Crucially, both Marx and Simondon subscribe to process philosophy, arguing that reality is always
subject to change, and that it is a philosopher’s duty to document how existence modifies over time.
This principle is expressed differently by each author, resulting in distinct bodies of work which are
thematically similar, yet theoretically incompatible.
Although Marx was committed to an historical account of reality his analysis of technical
objects demonstrates that his method was prone to anthropocentrism, in ways that are particularly
biased towards the objects he was attempting to understand. For him technical progress is
uncontrollable, creating sociological, and political conditions which are categorically harmful.
Indeed, the beginning of the Industrial period, Marx argues, marked the end of meaningful
production, leading to innumerable horrors.
This is exactly the type of reasoning that Simondon argues against, claiming that technology
has been persistently misclassified as either totally benign, or maniacally hostile. A binary that
Marx’s understanding of tools and machines completes, with these categories representing two
distinct forms of human-technical object relations that are divided according to time. Technology,
for Marx, shifts its efficacy during Industry, becoming dominating, and restricting, where it was once
a useful supplement to human power, whose effects were completely under a user’s control.
Being
asociological and historical thinker it is surprising to find that Marx’s account of
technology leaves a lot unsaid. In Das Kapital, Marx completely denounces industrial works, reviling
them as monstrous. Machines, he attests, were designed to destroy what was left of the working
classes’ spirit, stripping them of any hope of reprieve. By analysing historical evidence, though,
these observations are shown to be both wrong, and tainted by equal measures of technophobia and
patriarchalism. Marx, it appears, hated what was happening during the industrial period, and saw
machinery as representing everything that was wrong with society. Doing so he completely ignores
the new types of relations that emerged during this time; arrangements that were only possible after
the large-scale introduction of industrial machinery.
Things didn’t become worse, or better, but simply different. Certainly there were significant
problems which occurred because of machinery, and factories were often geared towards
exploitation. Nevertheless, many parts of society were able to mobilise around these technical
objects, creating new practises, and learning skills which were impossible only a short time before.
Machinesencouraged different forms of development, many of which were completely
unprecedented, and unexpected. Women, for example, were able to become financially
independent, learning to survive without the direct assistance of their immediate family. A fact
Marx fails to recognise, and instead argues that machines corrupted female workers, stripping them
of their natural innocence.
By examining Marx’s conclusions it becomes obvious that his method
is particular biasedtowards certain types of relations; using an argumentative strategy that expects exploitation. Every
social, political, or technical arrangement is schematised according to a hierarchal binary, which
characterises one party as subservient, and another as dominating. All interactions follow this logic,
meaning that nothing on the subservient side of this relation can express qualities which are not
defined by a ruling party. Thus, the working class become theoretically impotent, loosing any sense
of autonomy, and invariably bowing under the pressures created by the ruling class, and machinery.
Obviously, this cannot account for the changes which occurred during industry, and denies that
parties could express themselves differently than how Marx expects. Thus, he bypasses crucial
modifications which do not fit within his methodological apparatus, while blaming machinery for
problems that may have been significantly less pronounced than his work admits.
Marx transports his method onto human-technical object relations. Before Industry these
relations were reversed, with humans controlling technology. Manufacture, as Marx calls it,
represents a time when workers produced via tools, with these objects expressing nothing but utility.
Again, the history of technology does not conform to Marx’s method, and it can be shown that
Medieval technology was much more than innate instruments. Indeed, technical objects have always
effected their operators, in ways that Marx cannot account for. They were neither dominating, or
controlled, but social entities which allowed for the development of certain localised qualities, many
of which were harnessed by operators in order to create unique, unconventional, ideas and
practises. Culture, it can be shown, grows around technical objects, with these entities encouraging
human creativity, and inventiveness.
Aware of this Simondon created a unique ontology that was designed to extrapolate the
reciprocal relations that occur between technical objects and humans. For him, technology is an
inherent part of human reality; and helps to create, and sustain existence as we know it. Indeed, to
understand humanity, technical objects must be accounted for, and acknowledged as
semi-independent entities. Like all individuals technical objects are neither wholly determining, or
determined, but exist because of innumerable conditions which they themselves partly alter, and
reproduce. In many ways they resemble natural organisms, developing along lines of evolution
which adjust them to a given environment, while tying them to specific conditions. This process is
analogous to natural selection, with both biological, and technical individuals changing, and
stabilising, according to specific environmental stimuli. A process Simondon calls concretisation.
This process is never finished, and reoccurs every time that a technical object is modified.
Obviously, humans are a vital part of these alterations, and use technical skill to create objects which
are more suited to specific operations. Each change, though, alters every object involved, including
its human supervisors. Large industrial works, for example, encourage certain types of human
behaviour, and when modified, reciprocally alter the people working within them. These operators
are not restricted by this, but instead learn to adapt to new conditions, adjusting alongside technical
objects. Neither party controls the other, but instead is the product of multifarious determinants,
many of which are only possible because of the presence of both humans and technical objects.
Thus, technical objects cannot be judged as good, or bad, or explained via grandiose
historical narratives. Rather they must be investigated individually, acknowledging that what occurs
in one place, is unlikely to appear elsewhere. Everything, for Simondon, is a matter of circumstance,
meaning that human-technical object relations will take different forms according to their
spacial-temporal location.
Moreover, technical objects, Simondon argues, are an integral part of reality. They shape,
and reorganise existence, allowing certain things to appear, and others to become latent. This
includes social phenomenon, and for him, crucial parts of human reality cannot exist without
technical objects. Nothing takes ontological priority in Simondon’s work, with technical objects and
humans possessing an equal share of existence. This flattening deceases humanity’s autonomy, but
at the same time shows that true independence is always impossible, with every ontological being
relying, in someway, on other objects that create the conditions for its existence. Humans, and
technical objects, then, are analogous, with both existing, as they are, because of their surrounding
environments.
Simondon’s ontology allows for much more than Marx’s, while his account of technical
objects answers many of the problems that plague his predecessors work. Technical objects are
shown to be one part of reality, just as humans are, meaning that changes occur because of an
interplay between multifarious objects. People adapt to the conditions technical objects create, just
as technical objects adjust to sociological, or political stimuli. Changes which are always interesting,
and must be documented if we are to gain insight into the diverse layers of human, and technical,
reality.
Considering the structure of this thesis it is necessary to briefly explain its design. The thesis
begins and ends with Simondon, travelling through the works of Marx via insights drawn from
several other key theorists. It opens by discussing the introduction to
Du Mode d'Existence des Objets Techniques , where Simondon schematises culture’s ‘system of defence’ against technical objects. This then 1gives way to a larger discussion on Karl Marx’s account of technical objects. Indeed, Simondon’s name isn’t mentioned again until two chapters later.
Nonetheless, his work remains a vital part of this thesis and
his ideas are never far away from the main body of the text. It might be asked then; why wasn’t this
thesis completely dedicated to Simondon? A question that deserve some attention.
At least in English, Simondon’s work is particularly under read. Most of his oeuvre remains
untranslated, and although he has become something of an icon in certain circles, many important
parts of his philosophy continue to go completely ignored. Moreover, Simondon was a system
builder, meaning that only after reading, and then rereading his work, will several of the ideas
scattered throughout his metaphysics begin to take shape. Indeed, it is exceptionally difficult to
explain any part of Simondon’s philosophy without appealing to sets of equally complex ideas that
appear elsewhere in his work. A fact that should become more obvious during the chapter solely
dedicated to his account of technical objects. Now, this lack of academic resources coupled with the
vastness of Simondon’s work means that trying to introduce his contributions to philosophy is
particularly tricky. Hence, the decision was taken to clear some ground before delving into
Simondon’s account of technical objects.
The middle two chapters of this thesis are designed to simultaneously question Marx’s
account of technical objects and anticipate Simondon’s ontology. The second chapter demonstrates
that Industry was much more complicated than Marx acknowledges, breeding new forms of
relations that he fails to recognise. Whereas, the third chapter shows that even before large scale
industry, technical objects had a large part to play in social and political arrangements. By the fourth
chapter, it should have become clear that Marx’s work on technology is severely limited, calling for a
Henceforth MEOT.
new interpretative strategy. Thus the thesis concludes with Simondon and introduces key ideas that
can sufficiently explain the arrangements covered in the previous chapters.
This will hopefully allow readers to grasp Simondon’s work, and realise that his understanding of technical objects can help to analyse all manners of technical-human relations.Chapter I: A System of Defence
I.
Simondon opens MEOT with a provocative statement. Culture, he asserts, has become a system of defence against technology, which, through several recurrent manoeuvres, has effectively expelled technical objects from human reality. Tools, structures, and machines, while materially distinct, are judged according to their ability to further, or indeed, hinder human productivity. Discussions of this type reduce technical objects to either slaves, or tyrants, resulting in their relations with humans being settled upon asymmetrical grounds. Although Simondon attributes this hostility to culture, Karl Marx’s account of technology follows similar patterns. Man, Marx argues, is in essence a productive being, whose creative capacity must be nurtured and realised if he is to flourish. His interactions with technical objects are calibrated by this rubric, and judged according to their contributions towards productivity. These relations take place within, and express, specific forms of power and authority, derived from the prevailing mode of production. Technology, according to Marx, is unavoidably political, with power, wherever it resides, structuring associations via technical objects. A movement which is always linear, with power descending from above, coercing behaviour. Consequently, for Marx, what is important is not technical objects themselves, but the social and economic systems in which they are embedded, and whether or not, they improve humanity’s situation. An argument which always gives humans ontological priority, while denying technical objects’ unique effects on reality.
II.
Being both incendiary, and obscure, the introduction to MEOT demands a close reading. These, brief, preparatory remarks can be easily misread, resulting in the depth of their philosophical insights going unnoticed. Here Simondon sketches his incentives. MEOT, he writes, is a book designed to ‘susciter une prise de conscience du sens de objets technique.’ Its contents, the author assures us, are intended to foster a new 2
sensitivity towards technical objects. This objective, he continues, is a countermove, made necessary by culture’s persistent disregard for technical objects. Culture, he explains:
s’est constituée en système de défense contre les techniques; or, cette défense se présente comme une défense de l’homme, supposant que les objets technique ne contiennent pas de réalité humaine 3
What Simondon means by this is not immediately clear. Nonetheless, this statement provides us with a foothold. A foundation from which we can survey the theoretical horizon that the author is eager to move beyond. Human reality, it seems, is limited, with its borders patrolled by a culture that is anxious to preserve
Gilbert Simondon: MEOT, p.9
2
Ibid
it. Because of some undisclosed quality, technical objects are barred entry to this reality. They are seen as ‘meaningless’ or ‘insignificant’. This, Simondon suggests, is a rhetorical move. A misidentification which serves to defend whatever culture deems to be human. Indeed, Simondon compares culture’s treatment of technical objects to a xenophobe encountering a foreigner. Like a nationalist, racist, or colonialist, desperate to preserve some sense of racial purity, culture brands technical objects as alien, and therefore, inferior. Common traits are fiercely denied, with categories enforcing a sense of difference or otherness. Whereas a xenophobe bases his prejudice on race, ethnicity, or ancestry, how culture effectively segregates human reality is left somewhat ambiguous by Simondon. One thing is certain though, culture generally classifies technical objects according to their utility.
While certainly important utility is only one side of culture’s ‘system of defence’. And placing too much emphasis on this category results in the cause of this conflict being misdiagnosed. An error made by one of Simondon’s main interpreters, Muriel Combes. Combes argues that ‘the reasons for such a crisis seem to reside in the opposition between, on the one hand, the world of culture as a world of meaning, and on the other, the world of technics considered exclusively from the angle of utility.’ An interpretation which suggests 4
that culture excludes technical object by denying that utility is in anyway meaningful. A line of reasoning which can only account for how, rather than why, this hostility occurs. Culture, Combes explains, focuses on technical objects’ use, with humans projecting ’utilitarian intentions’ onto them. This, assumedly, renders them less significant than other things. With ‘utility’ seen as a base quality, unworthy of recognition. In the case of basic tools or instruments this interpretation holds some weight. As these objects, according to Simondon, are generally perceived as inert assemblages of matter, through which humans channel their will. Nonetheless, this ‘angle of utility’ only serves to reduce technical objects importance, rather than stripping them of meaning, or indeed, displacing them into a ‘foreign reality’ . Appealing to MEOT, we see that where 5
Combes’ ends, Simondon continues. Culture, he writes ‘comporte ainsi deux attitudes contradictictoires envers les objets technique.’ The first attitude, as covered by Combes, treats them as passive objects, lacking 6
any significance, apart from their utility, whereas the second supposes that these objects are animated by some form of agency, which is actively hostile towards humans. A malevolence which is believed to be permanently threatening, with technical objects endangering ‘human reality’. Readers familiar with the discourse surrounding technology will recognise this motif, being illustrative of a pervasive technophobia directed towards objects that have gained some measure of autonomism. Culture, according to Simondon, is obsessed with this idea. A fact illustrated by its fascination with robots and androids. Fictional beings,
originally created to serve humanity, who are often depicted as usurping their masters, leading to the enslavement, or extinction, of the human race. This, Simondon maintains, is a fantasy, but one based upon culturally persuasive ideas. Technical objects, at least after the Industrial Revolution, are treated by culture as
Muriel Combes: Gilbert Simondon and the Philosophy of the Transindividual, p.58
4
Ibid
5
Gilbert Simondon: MEOT, p.10
dangerously active, where they were once seen as entirely passive. Too much interaction with them, it is thought, results in the corruption, or annihilation, of some aspect of humanity. In the past people operating complex machinery were seen as putting themselves in jeopardy. Just as today computers, or smart phones, are blamed for society’s stunted intelligence- objects which captivate their users, covertly forcing them to repeat the same meaningless task, or distracting them from worthwhile occupations. Technical objects, under this rubric, become autocratic. Artificial tyrants who mishap ‘human reality’.
Failing to acknowledge this part of Simondon’s critique, Muriel Combes does touch upon one of culture’s crucial defects. These attitudes assign technical objects a determinate function. From the ‘angle of utility’ technical objects become mediating tools, things designed, and used, in order to accomplish a specific task. A hammer, in essence, is a thing which drives nails, just as a pair of glasses must enhance vision if they are to be a pair of glasses at all. Simondon, Combes accurately interprets, rejects this model, emphasising that technical objects possess qualities far beyond their prescribed function. Indeed, culture, for Simondon, suffers from its history, with centuries of substantialist philosophy rendering it unable to look past a world defined by essences. Although less obvious, the second attitude subscribes to this model. Machines, robots, or the internet, coercively structure human behaviour, determining their users’ actions, and proscribing them a specific role. Man, as the old adage goes, becomes an appendage of the machine, a thing defined by its relationship with its technical master. Just as a technical object, according to this scheme, always acts as an oppressor. This, as Combes rightly suggests, is particularly reductive, and exactly the type of theorising that Simondon is eager to avoid. Although certainly where Simondon’s investigation will lead, there is more to be said about this section of MEOT, much of which Combes overlooks.
Both of these attitudes structure relations hierarchically. Humans, under the first attitude, are beings who autonomously define and control technical objects. They are unaffected by them, holding complete dominion over their creations. A relationship which is reversed according to the second, where humans are enslaved by technical objects. In each, one party must hold authority over the other. Humans, just as technical objects, are either dominant, or dominated. Culture, for Simondon, cannot look past this binary, with technical objects always defined as either, passive, or hostile. A hierarchical positioning which uncovers culture’s preferential treatment of humans. In both cases, the position of humans, as independent,
unconditioned, beings, is favoured. Humans, in the first, freely develop, and use technical objects, to enhance their capabilities. Doing so only effects them positively, with no cost to their autonomy. Whereas, in the second, humans are deformed, fragmented beings, who suffer from their loss of efficacy. Authority, it is assumed, must be reclaimed, if humans are to be humans at all. Indeed, technical objects are never seen as benevolently ruling over humans, as enlightened monarchs, or even as sympathetic tutors, but are always despotic. Pretenders who have unrightfully dethroned humanity. These two attitudes endorse, and reinforce, technical objects subservient role, effectively preserving the idea of humans as autonomous ‘creators’. This is what culture defends. Humans as it wants them to be. Free, autonomous, unconditioned agents. Criterion which crumble as soon as technical objects are given a measure of efficacy. This, for Simondon, is a myth, a culturally pervasive misunderstanding that conceals the reality of both humans and
technical objects. Culture, fearing that ‘human reality’ will collapse if it loses autonomy, fervently denies that technical objects have anything meaningful to contribute to it. Categorically, they are useful, or they are harmful. Things which either passively serve humans, or undermine their creators’ sovereignty. Humans, or at least how culture perceives them, are always central. With what technical objects actually are, always bypassed by what they mean for humans.
As stated, these introductory remarks, are particularly incendiary, and it can be safely assumed that Simondon deliberately opened MEOT with provocation in mind. As such, the attitudes he delineates are exaggeratory, being inflated accounts accentuating culture’s general understanding of technical objects. And, as elsewhere in MEOT, Simondon neglects to identify a specific opponent. Leaving his interpreters to apply his critique, and judge whether these attitudes, and their underlying presumptions, are as prevalent as he believes. A task undertaken in the next section of this chapter.
III.
Being one of the first modern thinkers to conceptualise technology as an active part of reality, rather than as benign class of objects, Marx offers a generous supply of literature for analysis. This originality is equaled by Marx’s influence on the discussions surrounding technology. He is, for many, the first theorist to take the subject seriously, and his treatment of technical objects remains exemplary. Hence, his work provides an unrivalled resource, and one ready for critique.
As an historic thinker Marx does not limit his categories. Reality, for him, is essentially in motion, meaning that what existed at one time, will expresses itself differently at a later point in history. A thesis which holds for technical objects. Although, characteristically historically attentive, and therefore, opposed to atemporal definitions, Marx does commit himself to several static concepts. The first, and likely most
important, is his understanding of human nature. An idea which predicates his analysis, and influences his 7
judgment. Man , for him, is adaptable, a being who, like everything else, changes according to time and 8
place. A quality made possible by the fact that he possesses a creative impulse, an a priori ability to shape the world to his will. Marx, though, being a sociologist, knows that this capacity is limited, with environmental factors diminishing man’s power. Whether, or not, man flourishes depends on this ability. And if he is too restricted, he becomes little more than a well-trained animal. This creative power is expressed differently over time. From one epoch to the next it is realised via the material to hand, with technical objects designed, built, and used, as means to further this capacity. Technical objects, while varying in form, are, nonetheless, things imbued with determinate functions, albeit ones created by highly complex socio-historical circumstances. During the era of Manufacture, they are simply tools, as to say; things used by humans, whereas under Industry, they become machines, gigantic assemblages which threaten the whole of human reality. A division which clearly follows the ‘system of defence’ that Simondon warns against, ultimately leading to technical
This section is indebted to Alfred Schmidt’s The Concept of Nature in Marx, especially pages 63-95
7
This is Marx’s choice of words, and reflects issues that will become apparent in the subsequent chapter.
objects being judged according to their assumed relation with humans, and the establishment of a
hierarchical system of interaction. Man, for Marx, is central. A being who must be preserved, even at the cost of fair analysis.
Principally, this section draws upon Das Capital as its main point of reference, while employing other literature, in order to construct a fuller picture of Marx’s idea of man, and technology. Before discussing these key aspects of Marx’s philosophy, it should be stated that this is an interpretation of Marx, made by a scholar who is by no means an expert of this admittedly vast, and thoroughly analysed, field. Nonetheless, this account, I believe, engages with Marx from an original position, showing how he operates via the ontological biases that Simondon outlines.
Man’s defining attribute is his activity. His ability to produce and alter his given environment. Certainly, he may share characteristics with animals, being driven by hunger, or other urges, but these physiologically qualities can only define man qua taxonomic class. This, for Marx, is relatively unimportant. Instead, man must be considered as an entity who creates his own reality, a being that makes history. This species-essence, is at once descriptive, and normative, being both an anthropological fact, and a teleological demand. This trait is observable throughout history, with every civilisation built upon the labour of
thousands of individuals. Man interacts with the world productively, using his physical, and mental capacities, to create cultures and societies. To accomplish this man must labour, working on natural resources, in order to develop himself and the world. Giving an idealised, proto-historical, account of this activity, Marx states:
Labor is, in the first place, a process in which both man and nature participate, and in which man of his own accord starts, regulates, and controls the material reactions between himself and nature. He opposes himself to nature as one of her own forces, setting in motion arms and legs, head and hands, the natural forces of his body, in order to appropriate nature's productions in a form adapted to his own wants. By thus acting on the external world and changing it, he at the same time changes his own nature. He develops his slumbering powers and compels them to act in obedience to his sway. 9
Obviously hypothetical, this narrative nonetheless provides a telling example of how Marx’s perceives of man, or more significantly, how Marx believes he behaves naturally. Man encounters nature, and by his ‘own accord’, modifies it. He bends it to his will, autonomously creating new material out of natural resources. While this activity might be compelled by some biological need or want, man is the driving force behind labour. He begins this process, directing nature throughout his interaction with it. He adapts it to his wants, having a clear picture beforehand of what his labour will produce, and the need that it will satisfy. After the act, nature becomes human. It is subsumed, incorporated into man’s nature. Man is the active party, and while nature is sublated into his own being, thus changing his attributes, it remains passive, used by man, always to his benefit. It does not push back, instead it obediently follows man’s instructions. Now, this speculative picture, is not how man usually, if ever, exists. And Marx, here, is sketching man’s a priori anthropological nature. Man as he exists now, or indeed, in any other time or culture, is significantly more
Karl Marx, Capital, p.120
developed, and is shaped by multifarious factors beyond this primordial relationship. Indeed, human nature, for Marx, is essentially flexible. An attribute which is both a blessing and a curse.
This productive capacity is shaped by changing environmental, historical, and social factors, which simultaneously provide humans with sets of mental and physical equipment that furthers their capabilities, while restricting how this productivity can be expressed. The most common limitation being their own livelihood. To survive humans must exchange their labour for goods, meaning that, usually, they must focus on one task, or occupation. A condition which is almost ubiquitous throughout history. As Marx states:
He is a hunter, a fisherman, a herdsman, or a critical critic, and must remain so if he does not want to lose his means of livelihood. 10
Being attached to one profession, for Marx, is not the ideal. Man, being capable of many things, finds joy in changing his activity, and therefore should be allowed to develop himself freely. The good life, according to this reasoning, can only be found in a society where:
nobody has one exclusive sphere of activity but each can become accomplished in any branch he wishes, society regulates the general production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or critic. 11
Unfortunately, this remains an ideal. But one, nonetheless, which informs Marx’s analysis of labour, as it appears throughout history. If the conditions are right, we can assume, man is an autonomous producer, and society should be driven towards realising this end. As it is, and as it always has been, though, man depends on exchanging his labour. Meaning that he cannot independently develop his capacities. Nonetheless, his labour has developed, with history providing him with means that make his production more efficient. Up until around three hundred years ago, humans, living in Europe, worked under a system of labour Marx entitles Manufacture. A mode of production defined by its use of hand-tools, orientation around artisanal trades, and hierarchical structure of management. Principally, Manufacture harnessed man’s species-essence via the workshop. A place which employed hundreds of workers, in order to quickly, and efficiently, produce mass amounts of commodities. We see here Simondon’s first attitude. Technical objects, under Manufacture, are time-honed tools. Absolutely benign objects, which Marx pays little attention to. They are merely means towards ends. Their essence is determined by the human that they are attached to. A mason knows how to use a hammer or chisel, with these objects adding stature and power to his capacities. This use is determined by his trade. An occupation that supplies him with technical know-how, while preventing him from
developing his species-essence independently. Guilds, during this epoch, trained individuals in a specific field,
Karl Marx & Frederich Engels, The German Ideology, p. 53
10
Ibid.
giving them a trade by which they could earn a living. Apprentices, taken in by these guilds, were disciplined, and taught how to work in a specific way. Master’s directed their behaviour, with their pupils adapting to the demands of their profession. After finishing their education most apprentices went onto to work among large collectives of similarly skilled labourers. Employed by workshops which narrowed their productivity further, with legions of labourers repeatedly working on the same, or similar, task, focusing on one detail over and over again. Thousands of men, for example, were employed to create the same type of brick. An operation that some men repeated for years on end, with their whole lives consumed by this, or another, equally banal task. The reasons for this model are relatively simple, man, Marx explains, produces more when he works in unison with others:
It is that a dozen persons working together will, in their collective working day of 144 hours, produce far more than twelve isolated men working 12 hours, or than one man who works twelve days in succession. The reasons for this is that man, if not as Aristotle contends, a political, at all events is a social animal. 12
By restricting personal productivity, this system enhances the total yield of commodities. Working together men act as an enormous social organism. The lack of available alternatives forces men to enter this system. They must become labourers, of this kind, or starve. Moreover, they can’t, individually, afford the technical objects which make this type of work possible, with tools primarily owned by their employers, and only accessible within the workshop. Managers are employed to oversee these activities, themselves commanded by the owners of these enterprises. People who demand obedience, hiring workers who agree to hand over a measure of their freedom, and dismissing others who fail to meet their quotas. All of this is done, according to Marx, for capital. Money which lines the pockets of the workshops’ owners. And, ultimately, is what drives this system, being the overall end of Manufacture. Autonomous productivity, although occurring on some level, is trumped by the accumulation of capital.
By no means perfect, this mode of production does offer some reprieve. Man is active, being able to direct his efforts towards transforming material. A process that he authors, being the driving force behind labour. Tools bend and shape material to his will. Inducing a sense of accomplishment, and efficacy. While working with others, Marx explains ‘he strips off the fetters of his individuality, and develops the capabilities of his species’ driving production forwards, creating new avenues of development, which others can utilise, 13
and enhance. Indeed, the workshop, for Marx paved the way for the next mode of production. A system built on the conditions created during Manufacture. The work of this period is also relatively interesting, as labourers are given tasks that fulfil their professional capacities, duties they consider to be meaningful, and, which can be alternated. A mason measures material, sets bricks, and loads them onto carts. Tasks he was trained to do, and this profession offers him some variety. Obviously, most people are not independent,
Karl Marx, Capital, p. 228
12
Ibid. 228
relying on others for their livelihood. They are not truly their own masters, meaning that they are not free to create, but, to quite a large extent, are compelled to do so.
After Manufacture Marx moves onto Industry; a mode of production which is particularly important for this critique, and the history of technology in general. Here, Marx’s normative criteria become noticeably pronounced, leading his study away from disinterested analysis, to bitter resentment. Still driven by the accumulation of wealth, this mode of production has perfected the working conditions established during Manufacture, with employers reaping in capital via the factory system. Knowing that men tire, and that human power, by itself, is relatively weak, factories employ machinery to hasten productivity. The tools which assisted workmen during Manufacture are set aside, and the system of co-operation eclipsed, with these new instruments of labour assuming dominion over man.
Machines, Marx explains, consist of three essentially different parts. Firstly, there must be a motor, which supplies power to the machine. This generator, during Industry, becomes principally harnesses the scientific breakthroughs of the timer, being driven by combustion, or electromagnetism. Secondly, there is a transmitting element, which controls how this power is dispersed, ‘regulating motion, and changing it when necessary’ . These two elements are put to use on the final detail of the machine, its working part, a 14
component, comparable to the tools of Manufacture, that manipulates matter, turning resources into
commodities. This working part, while resembling tools, dwarfs their capabilities. Giant knives and hammers are attached to the machines’ body, supplying them with ‘cyclopean’ force. Or, instead, thousands of 15
instruments are driven by one motor, with needles spinning infinitely faster than they could by man power alone. These machines, Marx continues, tower over humans, casting an awful shadow that mocks human endeavours. Man, being limited by his body, cannot compete with the machine. His productivity is measly in comparison. Nonetheless, he is put to work alongside it, or more precisely, beneath it.
During Manufacture all of the machine’s operations were performed by workers. They were labour’s power source, using their bodies as motors, and their limbs as transmitting elements, providing energy to the hand tools they used in order to produce commodities. With the introduction of machinery, these attributes become redundant. Vestiges of a technologically primitive era. Humans, nonetheless, still play a part within production, but are disposed from their former rank, and relegated to attendants. In the best case, this means that they oversee machines. Acting as engineers, or technicians. This, though, is rare, and most people are employed as assistants, assigned to one specific detail, which they must perform endlessly, and without variation. People, formerly employed as needle workers, lose their profession’s eye for details and precision. Instead, in the factory, they are forced to reset automatic spinners, or simply rethread loose yarn. Or, masons, once trained to shape bricks, now feed material into the machine, watching as it performs the task thousands of times faster than they could. Comparing Industry with Manufacture, Marx explains:
Ibid. 257
14
Ibid.
The life-long specialty of handling one and the same tool, now becomes the life-long specialty of serving one and the same machine. Machinery is put to wrong use, with the object of transforming the workman, from his early childhood, into part of a detail-machine. In this way, not only are the expenses of his reproduction considerably lessened, but at the same time his helpless dependence on the factory as a whole, and therefore upon the capitalist, is rendered complete..
In Manufacture, the workman makes use of a tool, in the factory, the machine makes use of him. There the movements of the instrument proceed from him. Here it is the movements of the machine that he must follow. In Manufacture the workmen are part of a living mechanism. In the factory we have a lifeless mechanism
independent of the workmen, who must become its mere living appendage.
At the same time that factory work exhausts the nervous system to the utmost, it does away with the many-sided play of muscles, and confiscates every atom of freedom, both in bodily and intellectual activity. 16
Education remains under Industry but is corrupted beyond recognition. People enter the factory as children, and are given the worst jobs available. Trained to attend the machine, children grow up dependant on it, following its movements, and learning nothing but drudgery. Again, lack of alternatives forces them to comply, but where Manufacture offered workers some dignity, Industry strips them of any measure of autonomy, or creativity. Their work depends on conforming to this standard, leading to their intellectual and physical desolation. They become tools. Things whose purpose is narrowed down to one detail-function, with all other characteristics considered superfluous. Man, covered in grease and soot, acts as a base object, and is soon transformed into one. Like tools, workers are replaceable. Any person can take on these positions, without qualification, or often, experience. Their existence as individuals is accidental, an unneeded aspect of the machine’s labour-process.
Like Manufacture, this system is motivated by capital., and the factory is a symptom of an obsessive, misshapen, sense of productivity. Untroubled by the human cost of their endeavours, capitalists driven by the pursuit of wealth, see, in the factory, an engine that converts energy into profit. Humans are only fuel, or grease, used to maintain its operations. And their well-being is irrelevant, in comparison to the increased efficiency of this capitalist engine. Again, this mode is hierarchical, as the means of
production remains in the hands of the few. People who direct labor, while, themselves, not being involved in it. Although capitalism, for Max, is certainly to blame for these conditions, he does not withhold
judgment on the machines themselves. He denounces them as ‘giants’ or ‘cyclopes’, monsters whose whole bodies fill whole factories. Beings in the possession of tendrils which wrap themselves around workers, and other gargantuan appendages that crush humans under their colossal weight. Unlike the monsters of legends, these creatures cannot be overpowered or tricked, as their influence extends into the mind of their victims, extinguishing their cunning, and ensuring the machine’s continued sovereignty. Marx does hint elsewhere that machines hold the promise of emancipation, being potentially tools which could free
Ibid. 292
humans from drudgery, and allow them to develop autonomously. But, by Das Kapital, the idea that machines could bring about any positive changes for humanity is abandoned.
Evidently Manufacture is better form of life than Industry. By allowing humans some measure of freedom this mode of production ensures that their species-essence is, at least, partly satisfied. Acting semi-autonomously workers create products, honed and polished via technical objects. Tools, by Marx’s account, passively contribute towards these endeavours. With their relations to humans strictly mediatory. They are prized for their utility, and used for specific purposes, being products of an over-arching social system that guides both them and humans. Ideally, this relationship would continue, and be improved by the destruction of external authority. Emancipated from demands of labor exchange man would be free to develop his creative capacities as he sees fit, shaping the world via technical objects. As an independent entity, he can express his individuality, which in turn, realises the potential latent within his species-essence. Assumedly, technical objects only play a subservient role in this ideal. Man, for Marx, must be unaffected, if he is to truly act. And, fortunately, technical objects, in the form of tools, are weightless, exclusively enhancing movements, without burdening man’s freedom. Unfortunately, according to Marx, history failed to meet this end. Wealth triumphed over human well-being, resulting in the intensification of drudgery. Technical objects, now imbued with a measure of autonomism, took the place of workers. In a cruel twist, workers’ labour went from menial, to abominable. With technical objects coming to
dominate the majority of mankind, stripping them of all but their most basic attributes.
The parallels between Marx and Simondon’s critique have now, hopefully, become obvious. For Marx, man, as an autonomous producer, takes centre stage. And any other entity that encounters him can only be a docile ally, or an aggressive antagonist. Man , by Marx, always struggles, trying to break free of the social conditions which restrain him. And technical objects are only interesting when they visibly help, or frustrate, this cause.
This idea of man, for Simondon, is far too autonomous. Its standard of efficacy makes humans, in the end, inhuman. Beings who can, and therefore, should act freely, developing themselves without obstacle. This is a myth. A fantastic distortion of reality, used to measure actual relations. Humans, as with every other entity, are subject to change. Alterations which do not disturb their vital attributes, but, usually, allow them to adapt to a given environment. Surroundings which are themselves modified by the human activity. And by obsessing over the actualisation of a species-essence Marx ignores the vibrant cultures which flourish around human-technical object relations- a blind sightedness, Simondon assures us, which culture, in general, has persistently clung to.
Chapter II: The Limits of Binary Modelling
I.Marx, of course, was much more than a thinker of technics, and his analysis of technical objects is found within a much wider and more ambitious investigation. Das Kapital, a book which details Marx’s principle encounter with technology, deals with this subject as an aspect, and symptom of production. Making technology, from Marx’s, perspective explicitly political. The social arrangements which accompany workers’ use of technical objects express overarching political structures, organisations of power and authority, which pervade into human-technical object interactions. These observations are informed by Marx’s general methodological strategy. Arrangements, he insists, follow hierarchical patterns, structures which cast one agent as autonomous and the other as dependent. While accentuating the political reality of technical, and social, relations, this model presupposes harsh subordination. Dependent parties are coerced, to the extent that their actions, and beliefs, are predetermined by external forces. Theoretically, this owes a great deal to Hegel, with Marx reconfiguring his predecessor’s philosophy for his own purposes. The idea that political arrangements occur within this binary adopts, and extends, one of Hegel’s most famous formulations: the Master-Slave Dialectic, using analogous motifs, which act as a theoretical bedrock for Marx’s analysis. Seemingly convinced of this model’s veracity, Marx loses sight of important instances which contradict his conclusions. Industry, for example, is condemned as categorically exploitative, aggravating already destitute circumstances. Historical evidence, however, reveals that this period’s rapid mechanisation contributed towards equally momentous social alterations. Historically underrepresented communities were provided with new material, and ideological, resources, that allowed them a measure of independence which was almost impossible only years before. Certainly, people suffered, and there were serious problems born from the machine, nevertheless, Marx bypasses crucial modifications which occurred, at least partially, because of certain technical objects integration into social arrangements.
II.
When examined closely, there are only superficial differences between how Marx conceives of technical and political arrangements. Depending on time, and place, technical objects are either dominated, or dominating. Objects which are determined by their human masters, or tyrannical machines that mould, and coerce their operators. Marx applies a structurally identical binary to politics, dividing society into two categories defined by their uneven access to the means of production. Throughout history these classes have modified, with membership changing according to a variety of conditions. While membership fluctuates, these classes are always divided into the majority and minority, with the latter reigning over the former. During the Medieval period Feudal lords ruled European civilisation, possessing vast wealth, and more importantly, land. A natural resource which they allowed peasants to cultivate in exchange for rent and taxes. As farmers could not possibly amass the funds necessary to buy land they depended on their lords for work, an exchange which their superiors exploited, demanding that any excess wealth that the peasants produced be siphoned
into their pockets. An obligation which workers were unable to refuse, as without access to farmland, and by extension, crops, they would starve. Over time this system was replaced, with wealthy merchants, who once served the nobility, rising in power, and eventually becoming the dominant class. Changing how workers produced, these Bourgeoisie maintained a comparable system, employing the masses within factories or mines. Again, the vast majority depended on the generosity of their masters, labouring under the machine in exchange for a meagre wage. As the lower classes lacked the skills, and resources, necessary to purchase their means of production, they were forced to enter the factory system, selling their labour for basic sustenance.
These systems are differentiated by their material conditions, and primary incentives. Feudalism, according to Marx, was based upon an agrarian economy, using crops and livestock, along with basic tools, as its main source of production. This economy centred around Feudal power, and was designed to maintain the status quo, reproducing hierarchal structures through inherited titles. The laws, and customs of the time reflected this system’s biases, favouring wealthy land-owners, to ensure that peasants remained dependent, and obedient. Under the Bourgeoisie similar patterns emerged. The economy, now based around the mass production of commodities, realised through large scale Industry, allowed the Bourgeoisie to accumulate vast amounts of capital. Surplus money which they were eager to multiply. Workers, now free from the fetters of Feudalism, were met with another form of bondage. Legally they were able to choose their occupation, but in reality, most workers fell into the factory system. Being vastly more powerful than workers, the Bourgeoisie clandestinely encoded their authority into the legal system, declaring that employees exchanged their labour freely, and that wages fairly represented the yield of their work. Nonetheless, workers were destined to occupy a subservient role forced upon them by the ruling class, which only provided them with prolonged survival, while churning out capital for the Bourgeoisie.
It must be mentioned that while the subordinate classes are dependent upon their superiors, this relationship entails an equal, or indeed, more substantial dependence on the part of the higher classes. Without workers both the Feudal lords and Bourgeoisie would perish. Deprived of their workforce the systems that these parties uphold would quickly collapse. Hence, it is in the higher classes’ interest to keep their workforce alive, and reasonably content, as a starving population, cannot produce efficiently, and extended famines lead to cataclysmic rebellions. Their independence, then, is illusory, relying on the existence of less powerful parties.
On a conceptual level, these modes of production are functionally identical. Their operations move according to the same logic, setting up two opposing forces, whose uneven relationship sustains society. A model which can be laid over Marx’s formulations on technical objects. Materially things change, shifting the centre of authority, while schematically everything stays the same. Machines dominate their operators, tools channel labourers’ will, Feudal lords exploit peasants, and the masses are tricked by capitalists. Each case follows the same program, expecting, and producing conceptually identical arrangements. Marx was not the first to think in this way, and his observations follow the thematic structure of Hegel’s Master-Slave
dialectic; a hypothetical situation, which some have argued, which was deliberately calibrated to act as an analogy for a wider scope of relations than expressed within the Phenomenology of Spirit ; a gesture Marx 17
incorporates into his thought, applying the speculative dynamic expressed within Hegel’s work to areas unexplored by his predecessor. Prima facie this dialectic examines, and determines, how human
consciousness becomes self-aware, asserting that higher forms of subjectivity are the result of an interplay between two, originally separated, consciousnesses. The conceptual depth of Hegel’s work makes this narrative particularly abstruse, implementing the speculative idealism which has come to symbolise this philosopher’s name. Moreover, from its inception, Marx’s philosophy rejects the basic postulates of idealism. History, for Marx, and by extension human reality, does not follow the movements of spirit, or any other immaterial force, but is rather the ongoing story of production; the ever changing ways that humans create, and use, the material conditions that are necessary for their survival. Metaphysically, then, Marx is
extremely distant from Hegel, basing his insights on a strict materialism which is diametrically opposed to Hegel’s philosophy. His explanative strategy, though, draws from Hegel, reconfiguring his speculative work into a methodological program based upon conflict.
Laying aside metaphysical subtleties, it is relatively easy to demonstrate the basic narrative structure of the Master-Slave dialectic, a manoeuvre which, coincidentally, makes obvious some of Marx’s principle methodological predicates. As this dialectic is operational, as to say illustrating a change in being, or more precisely, an act of becoming, its phases can be broken down into consecutive stages. For this dialectic to emerge two individuals must exist. Each aware of the world, on a basic subjective level, and possessing a desire to interact with their surroundings. Hegel makes clear that these individuals are conscious, being able to sense phenomenon, but are yet unable to identify their subjective experience as a subjective experience. Psychologically they believe that their interpretation of the world is all that there is, misattributing their individual experience as an objective one. For their consciousness to become self-aware, they must realise that their experience is a unique product of their perspective, and is therefore attached to their individuality. When these two individuals meet they sense the other’s identical cognitive abilities, while realising that they, being another entity, are not them. They are the same, but also other. An identity and difference which forces each individual to recognise their own distinctiveness.
When these two beings recognise each other as conscious individuals, Hegel asserts, they will immediately enter into a struggle to the death. Fighting in order to preserve their sense of independence. A conflict which can result in two outcomes. In the first, one emerges victorious, killing the other.
Consequently, neither of their consciousnesses develop, with the defeated dying, and therefore ceasing to exist, and the other continuing as he did before. The other scenario posits that the weaker party is aware that death brings with it annihilation, knowing that life is a necessary for consciousness. He fears death, and is willing to sacrifice anything to avoid it. The other lacks this insight, and is unaware of his own mortality. This time, during their struggle, the fearful individual submits to the other, offering him his servitude in
Jean Hyppolite, Genesis and Structure of Hegel’s Phemenology of Spirit, p. 168
exchange for his life. Thus, they enter into the roles of master and slave. Under this regime the slave, fearing for his life, obediently follows the master’s commands. He labours, gathering, and creating, resources which he offers to the master, toiling the land to satisfy the demands of his lord. The master profits from this activity, comfortably relying on the slave for sustenance and other resources.
Their consciousness is altered by this relationship. The master asserts his continued independence through the slave, believing that his dominance represents his superiority, and that his subordinate is wholly dependant upon him. At any moment he could overpower the bondsman, destroying him; a duress which keeps the slave indentured. He knows that there is another, and that therefore his consciousness is tied to his individuality, making his experience one of two, rather than absolute. He can imagine himself through the slaves eyes, seeing a towering, powerful, individual, and is determined to preserve this position. Again, with the slave, his consciousness is modified, taking on a dependant role through which he experiences himself, the master, and the world. Life, for him, is servitude, and the constant threat of death compels him to submit, obey and labour. He is no longer autonomous, and where he was once free to encounter reality, he is now forced to interact with it according to his master’s will. His consciousness becomes dependant, a byproduct of his relationship with the master.
The slave’s lot, Hegel explains, has more potential than the master’s. Relying on the slave the master fails to interact with the world on a comparable scale, he is content with his position, and becomes docile, withdrawing into his existence. The slave, on the other hand, has an immediate connection with the world, producing objects with his own hands, and modifying his surroundings through his will. These resources are, of course, surrendered to the master, who accesses the world through the slave. His existence is mediated, passing through another’s activity, whereas the slave’s experience is intimately tied to his labour, and production. After a while he begins to recognise himself in the objects that he has fabricated, sensing that his consciousness has spread into external reality. The world has altered because of him, and he sees that he is able to control his will. The master simply consumes, letting his desire for power, recognition, and
sustenance, continue undisciplined. Through labour, the slave learns patience, keeping his desires in check, and concentrating on specific tasks which allow him to develop his consciousness further. Without bondage, these traits would have remained unrealised, but because of his obedience the slave rises beyond the level of consciousness that either individual originally, or subsequently possessed. The master, he realises, actually depends upon him, greedily feeding off his labour. A transaction that the slave must continue to fulfil, as he still threatened by the master’s willingness to destroy him. Nonetheless, he has achieved a new level of consciousness, recognising himself through labour, rather than the relationship upheld between him and the master. 18
Marx reformulates key themes from this dynamic into his work, using them as a foundation for his analysis. For Marx, there is always two, a binary which presupposes conflict. Of course, this relationship
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, The Phenomenology of Spirit, p104-119
does not occur on a speculative, protohistoric plane, but is rather extrapolated from real historical events. History, for him, is the interplay of two forces fighting for supremacy. On a strictly sociological register, this pattern is plainly discernible. While the struggle which occurs between these two agents is not literally to the death, they nonetheless act according to an agreement, even if it is unbeknownst to either party. One
commands and the other obeys, with the latter suffering the pains of drudgery to a much fuller extent than their masters. This conditions them into a subservient role, which they fulfil out of necessity. As without being able to exchange their labour, they would perish, making them dependant upon their superiors. A relationship which is ostensibly in the master’s favour, with them reaping in benefits that are denied to labourers. Again, the dominant position is less autonomous than presumed, relying on the tributes exacted from subordinate workers. These sociological arrangements are analogous to Marx’s observations on technology, conforming to a comparable structure. Metaphysically, it is unlikely that Marx would imbue technical objects with the same level of consciousness as human parties, yet functionally, they perform almost identically as their human equivalents. Tools are totally reliant on humans, being invented, and implemented, by them. Whereas machines dominate, consuming their operator’s labour within the factory. Obviously there are noticeable difference between these relationships. Technical objects do not enter into agreements, nor are they able, strictly speaking, to develop their consciousnesses.
In regards to technical objects, Marx uses this binary as an explanative strategy, superimposing certain aspects onto these relationships, while omitting others due to circumstance. A gesture also present within his sociological research. The final stage of the dialectic, namely the slave’s movement beyond absolute bondage, is absent from Marx’s observations, remaining a potential which has yet to be realised. While the promise of emancipation appears as a guiding principle within Marx’s earlier work, by Das
Capital the likelihood of workers escaping their subordination is less certain, or even possible. Society, it
seems, has lost any hope of reprieve, having created overly harsh condition which make original thought impossible. For Marx, Capitalist production has become absolutely hegemonic. And everything that emerges from its clutches is corrupted from the start, meaning that the relations exemplified by the first half of the master-slave dialectic continue unabated, without reaching the denouement predicted by Hegel.
III.
Marx’s pessimism can be attributed to his realisation that the relations marked by Industry have become ubiquitous. The factory system, which was once confined to urban environments and mining operations, has viciously contaminated all areas of production. Even when machines are absent, workers are forced to compete with them. Being obsessed with efficiency, capitalists base all working conditions on the optimum, using the factory floor as a benchmark. Speed, and repetition, are the expected norms of production, with every instance of labour geared towards these standards. Although the visible embodiments of Industry may be hidden behind factory walls, all workers suffer from their influence. There is no time for them to develop
more advanced skills, or modes of thought, with their actions determined by the inhuman, break-neck, movements of the machine. This mechanic hegemony is more than physical. As stated, workers’
consciousnesses are shaped by this form of production, making them intellectually impotent, and ultimately, willing slaves. Knowing no different, they assume that Industry is all that there is. They submit to these artificially created conditions, and unconsciously accept heir subservient roles. Ideologically, for Marx, they are damned. Always with an eye on exploitation, the Bourgeoisie welcome the masses’ intensified
imbecility. Labourers only need the most basic skills in order for them to perform within this system, and any unconventional ideas, or behaviour, are seen as either redundant or dangerous.
According to Marx, Industry was indiscriminate, drawing in part of society who were once safeguarded from the more abhorrent aspects of production. Children crowded industrial sites, working for pittance to support their families. Prolonged exposure to noxious working environments mentally and physically crippled these children, and most went into adulthood without formal education; supplying the Bourgeoisie with legions of feeble minded, yet habituated, adults for their factories. Women also began to enter the workforce. A shift in social arrangements which Marx sees as symbolising Industry’s insatiable hunger for impressionable, and docile, workers.
For Marx, women were more vulnerable than men. Industry targeted their natural delicacy, seeing untapped potential ready for exploitation. Profit trampled over all other values, decimating femininity. Their physical strength was enough, and any other attributes became unnecessary. Forced to mix with the dregs of society they were transformed into parodies of femininity.
The greatest evil of the system that employs young girls on this sort of work consists in this, that, as a rule, it chains them fast from childhood for the whole of their life to the most abandoned rabble. They become rough, foul-mouthed boys before Nature has taught them that they are women. Clothed in a few dirty rags, the legs naked far above the knees, hair and face besmeared with dirt, they learn to treat all feelings of decency and shame with contempt. During mealtimes they lie at full length in the fields, or watch the boys bathing in a neighbouring canal. Their heavy day’s work at length completed, they put on better clothes, and accompany men to the public houses.19
Tainted by industry women become rude, dirty and promiscuous. Traits associated with deviant strains of masculinity, rather than womanhood. When women worked they put their femininity in jeopardy. A judgment that betrays Marx’s proximity to the sexual values of his time.
Before the introduction of machinery gender boundaries were upheld through access to certain spheres of work. Traditionally, women were housebound, acting as care-givers and home-makers. These roles were both expected, and enforced, with social conditions virtually guaranteeing women’s domesticity. Systematic prejudices made it almost impossible for them to find employment, ensuring that they remained
Karl Marx, Capital, p.321
absent from the workforce. Moreover, housework was rarely, if ever ,paid, making women financially dependant on their relatives or spouses, reducing their options even further. By lowering requirements, Industry offered an alternative. Causal work paid, enabling women to support themselves, and many migrated from their places of origin, settling in unfamiliar industrial towns, away from the supervision of their families.
Undoubtedly, the factory system exploited its workers, compensating long, exhausting, hours for an unequal share of the profits that employees had helped produce. And it was common for recruiters to scout rural communities, searching for uneducated, yet ambitious, women who they could entice with the promise of wealth. Naivety may have contributed towards these women’s decision to leave their families, and many could have been pressured into employment by relatives who were eager to generate another source of income. Mostly, though, women seem to have been attracted to the factory system for financial reasons, signing contracts, and operating machinery, in order to earn an independent wage.
Historical evidence shows that female workers developed their own enclaves within broader 20
society, creating small communities through which they found work, friends, and lodging. These social ties were sustained, in some part, by their common identity. These women were recognised as sharing interests, and patterns of behaviour, creating a particular social type, that appeared across the western world. Surviving correspondences between urban workers and their rural friends suggests that women were relatively happy living as wage-labourers, encouraging others to join them in the city, and assuring them that there would be surrogate families waiting for them, referring to the large population of similarly minded women who were often found working together, and sharing board. Single, and independently wealthy, female workers often drew scorn from more conservative parties. Many saw their freedom as dangerous, allowing them to drift away from familial responsibilities. Parents feared for their martial prospects, believing that coarse, city-life would make them unattractive to suitors. And their presence in the factory was met with disdain from male coworkers, regarding them as scabs, who threatened to steal their livelihoods. Despite these tensions, 21
women continued to flock to factories, becoming visible members of the workforce. Their families’ unease was usually unfounded, and most women married, and bore children by their late twenties. Indeed, their desire to leave their parents’ household did not indicate their absolute abandonment of gender roles, rather many wanted to begin their lives independently, making enough money to support themselves, and ultimately, find a partner; albeit without the direct guidance of their parents.
The stigma surrounding female workers bred new stereotypes, and slurs, usually emphasising their appearances and alleged promiscuity. Underhand remarks were a means to castigate their abandonment of traditional duties, shaming women into conformity. A tactic which Marx employs, commenting on their
Wendy M. Gordon, Mill Girls and Strangers: Single Women’s Independent Migration to England, Scotland and the
20
United States, p.57-96
Amy E. Wendling, Karl Marx on Technology and Alienation, p164-168
