This Content Downloaded From 85.255.236.73 On Mon, 07 Jul 2025 09:52:35 UTC
This Content Downloaded From 85.255.236.73 On Mon, 07 Jul 2025 09:52:35 UTC
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide
range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and
facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
https://about.jstor.org/terms
Wiley and are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to History and
Theory
Two facts are likely to be striking to anyone who inquires into the current
condition of studies on Marx's historical theory. One is that the sheer volume
of writing on this subject in the past two years has been quite extraordinary.
(In addition to the three works under review here, which are wholly con-
cerned with this subject, there are at least six others worthy of serious atten-
tion, which consider it in whole or in part.)1 The other is that a significant
portion of this writing falls in the category of what used to be dismissed as
"vulgar Marxism," though the intricacy, clarity, and care with which this
position is currently being defended, makes for a princely vulgarity indeed.
Both these facts prompt interesting lines of speculation concerning present
times, but I will suppress the temptation to pursue them here.
A further fact, which is perhaps less immediately evident but even more
significant, is that the study of Marx's historical theory has become the
province of professional philosophers rather than of the historians and
political scientists who once dwelled there. Of the nine works mentioned
above only two are not by philosophers; Marx, it appears, is now not only
philosophically respectable but of philosophical interest. In some measure,
this development is salutary: philosophers are wont to approach their sub-
jects, as it were, for the first time, and the cautious and systematic sorting of
issues, exposition, and critique their best works achieve are welcome in a
1. They are: D. Ross Gandy, Marx and History (Austin, TX, 1979); Carol Gould,
Marx's Social Ontology (Cambridge, MA, 1978); Leszek Kolakowski, Main Currents
of Marxism (Oxford, 1978), I; William Leon McBride, TIme Philosophy of Marx (Lon-
don, 1977); John McMurtry, The Structure of Marx's World-View (Princeton, NJ,
1978); and Jerrold Seigel, Marx's Fate: The Shape of a Life (Princeton, NJ, 1978).
field which, as Shaw puts it, has evidenced "a slackness . . . which one
imagines would not be tolerated [elsewhere]" (2). Yet a considerable price
has been paid for these virtues. The large-scale debates of earlier years-
about the "early versus late Marx," for instance-are generally forgotten
(rather than aufgehoben) in the three books under review, and, with the
exception of Rader's, what we encounter are technical treatises whose very
vocabularies suggest self-enclosed dialogues among professional friends that
either ignore opponents or, at most, encounter them entirely on home groun
Both Shaw and Cohen subscribe to a "fundamentalist" (Shaw, 6) or "old-
fashioned" and "technological" (Cohen, x, 29) interpretation of Marx's
historical materialism which holds that the forces of production determine
the relations of production which, in turn, determine the legal and political
superstructures without significant dialectical interplay among these three
domains. This interpretation depends on the centrality of the 1859 "Preface"
to the Critique of Political Economy (a fact both authors acknowledge but
neither argues for) as well as on a certain interpretation of that preface. To
make their cases, both authors rely heavily on the style and techniques of
analytical philosophy. This is especially true of Cohen's book, which is inter-
esting primarily for this reason. Yet the two authors define their projects
differently. Though claiming to be "sympathetic" to Marx, Shaw chooses
neither to "defend" nor to "revise" him but only to "excavate" and "unpack"
what Marx's theory says (2, 54)., Cohen also finds himself "in broad accord"
(ix) with Marx's theory; however, he does take the further steps of defense
and revision.3 This can lead to fascinating deployments of Cohen's analytic
arsenal (as in his argument for "the primacy of the productive forces," par-
ticularly, 172-174), but it can also lead to oscillation and confusion since
the "defense" sometimes leads him beyond Marx, where Marx is viewed as
weak (for instance, 52), while at other times he defends what he implies is
a weak, though potentially reinforceable, view (for example, p. 46 on
science) on the grounds that Marx held it or could only have held it given
the state of scientific knowledge in his age.
Shaw and Cohen also differ, more significantly, in the way they define
the "fundamentalist" thesis. While Shaw declares openly for a "technological-
determinist interpretation" (5), Cohen embraces only the "technological"
label and avoids (without forswearing) the "determinist" one (29, n. 147).
Yet one may doubt whether this is a significant difference. For, when Shaw
seeks to clarify his view, he rejects any "narrow economic determinism" (66)
as well as a "breakdown theory" of capitalism (101), waffles on the ques-
tion of "inevitability" (79, 101, 113), and seems to accept productive-force
4. See, for instance, Hayden White. Metahistory (Baltimore, 1973), ix-x and passim.
White and Rader are both heavily influenced by Stephen Pepper, World Hypotheses
(Berkeley, 1942); see White, 13; and Rader, xxi.
5. When Rader first introduces the last model, he refers to it as the model of "organic
unity" (xvii). However, since he later refers to it as the model of "organic totality,"
which he explicitly distinguishes from "organic unity" (xxi), it seems preferable to
follow the revised phrasing.
Shaw and Cohen, of course, would dispute many, if not all, of these claims,
as we will see more fully in a moment. First, however, certain problems
internal to Rader's account must be recognized. To clarify analytically the
implicit models within Marx's philosophy of history is a task which should
have been done long ago, and Rader should be commended just for attempt-
ing it - as well as for the large degree of success he has achieved. Nonethe-
less, the models are not as clearly distinguished as one might like.
Consider first the "fundamentalist" and "dialectical" versions of "base and
superstructure." According to Rader, fundamentalism entails three proposi-
tions: "that the various strata in the social order . . . are distinct and ex-
ternally related"; "that changes in the economic stratum produce corre-
sponding changes in the other strata"; and "that the causal determination is
entirely or almost exclusively one-way (3). The dialectical version retains
the first proposition but rejects the second and third in favor of the view that
there is a "dialectical interaction" among the various strata (3). But how
does "dialectical interaction" differ from causal determination which, though
primarily, is not exclusively one-wvay? Rader could contend that "dialectical
interaction" means that "equal causal weight" is assigned to economic and
non-economic strata while "causal determination which is almost exclusively
one-way" gives primacy to the economic strata. Were he to make this moove,
the difference would be merely quantitative and might still be difficult to
discern in a concrete case. But Rader does not make this move. For his notion
of "hierarchy" commits him to the view that economic production is the
"dominant" stratum within all conceptions of base and superstructure (60).
The difference between the two models, then, seems to be more a matter of
rhetoric than of substance, and it is extremely difficult to discern, at least in
some cases. Thus Rader claims both that Engels was committed to the
"dialectical version" (3) and that he was sometimes unsuccessful in extri-
cating "himself from the fundamentalist version" (10). Rader concludes that
"Engels' dialectical version is unsatisfactory because it resembles the funda-
mentalist approach" (55)!
A similar problem is inherent in Rader's distinction of the "base and
superstructure" and "organic totality" models. Rader himself poses the
problem quite well: "The exact relation between the base-superstructure and
the organic model is still not clear. How profound a transformation must the
former undergo to be incorporated into the latter? Consider the case of Lenin.
He finally adopted at least verbally an organic theory . . . [yet] continued
to speak in the same old way about base and superstructure. He did not
realize what a difference it makes to accept the organic model" (81). Per-
haps the most obvious way to make the distinction would be to say that
base-superstructure depends on the linear imagery of reduction while organic
totality depends on the circular imagery of interdependence. But Rader does
not make the distinction in these terms, for he wants to claim that the two
models are ultimately compatible and that they were so regarded by Marx.
Nor therefore does he distinguish them in terms of the weight they assign to
various factors or strata within the historical process. He distinguishes the
models on the basis of the type of explanation to which they are ordinarily
attached. While the base-superstructure model could adopt a "Humean type
of causal explanation," organic totality, because of its insistence on a philos-
ophy of internal relations, must reject Hume in favor of something closer to
Althusser's notion of structural causation (82). Though Rader hints (85)
that a fully adequate explanation of the latter type would be one of "organic
causality" linking an "outer dialectic" with an "inner dialectic," he does not
specify what such an explanation would finally look like. Thus the precise
difference between base-superstructure and organic totality is in the end no
clearer than fundamentalism versus dialectical interaction.
To confront Rader's claims with opposing ones in Cohen and Shaw (as
well as to compare the latter two positions) is more difficult than it might
at first appear, for while the tenor of their remarks is very different, they do
not always adopt directly comparable positions. Probably the best place to
begin is with fundamental terms: forces of production, relations of produc-
tion, means of production, mode of production, economic structure, and
superstructure. How is each of these terms defined by the authors and used
to support their interpretations of the 1859 "Preface"?
I. FUNDAMENTAL TERMS
Of the three authors, Cohen offers the most elaborate and painstaking dis-
cussion of definitions, and it is with him that we will begin. Initially, Cohen
takes the forces of production to include labor power ("the productive
faculties of producing agents: strength, skill, knowledge, inventiveness, etc.,"
32) plus the means of production. Means of production include instruments
of production ("tools, machines, premises, instrumental materials" that pro-
ducers "work with," 55, 32) and raw materials (stuff that producers "work
on," 32). Later he adds "spaces" to means of production, where by a space
is meant "a particular volume of space, considered in abstraction from what-
ever it contains" (50). Means of subsistence (for example, the worker's food
and clothing) are not, according to Cohen, included in the means of produc-
tion by Marx, but Cohen chooses to amend Marx and to count food as both
an instrumental and a raw material and clothes (at least sometimes) as an
instrument of production.
Relations of production, for Cohen, are relations which bind "at least
one person(s)-term and at most one productive force(s)-term, and no other
type of term" (31-32). This means that, in practice, "production relations
are either relations of ownership by persons of productive forces or persons or
relations presupposing such relations of ownership" (34-35), whereby
6. The only remaining logical possibility would be to argue that work relations are
not part of the relations of production, a possibility Cohen considers but, wisely I thin
chooses to drop.
7. Shaw equivocates somewhat on the question of whether Marx explicitly distin-
guished the two (this is denied on p. 29, but on p. 31, "the distinction between them is
[declared to be] central to Marx's thought'l). However, he certainly believes that Marx
held the distinction implicitly.
8. Cf. Shaw, 34-35, and Cohen, 94-95, 98, and 111. For Shaw, to qualify as social,
a relation must simply implicate persons; this is not true for Cohen, and his objections
have some merit, though his example on 95 seems considerably weaker than the one
on 111.
9. While Shaw does not follow Cohen in including some means of subsistence among
the means of production, they both seem to agree that Marx did not make this move.
On ownership relations, they seem to have no differences, and Shaw, like Cohen,
attempts to define them without recourse to legal language.
10. Shaw declares this explicitly (32), and it follows implicitly from Cohen's discus-
sion of both material and social modes (79-84). Shaw then goes on to claim that, for
Marx, the mode of production includes both forces and relations of production (53).
Cohen appears to agree (84 and n. 4), as does Rader (13).
(29). But if "in Marx's lifetime science floated uncertainly between base and
superstructure, being both cause and effect of industrial technology, now it
belongs at the very basis of modern society and is one of the cardinal 'pro-
ductive forces'" (30).1 The implication is that, if we fail to recognize
science's dual status, we will be unable to come to terms theoretically with
an important historical development.
It should now be obvious why Cohen has excluded from the superstructure
much of what Rader (and nearly everyone else) includes. For this move
Cohen pays an extremely high price: not only does he deprive historical
materialism of any implications for cultural and aesthetic theory, but he
would seem to have to deny as well that Marx had any interest in cultural
and aesthetic theory. Let us, however, cast this problem aside in favor of the
question of Cohen's internal consistency. Can he escape the criticisms im-
plied by Rader's analysis?
We have seen that Cohen attempts to define the relations of production
entirely in non-legal language in order to place the legal system unam-
biguously in the superstructure. But this merely terminological move negates
his ability to acount theoretically for a key historical development; namely,
that the legal system and the state (like science) have become increasingly
implicated in the economic base as capitalism has become more advanced.
Cohen could perhaps reply, as he says elsewhere (224), that "the point is
that one could dispense with them [legal terms in defining relations of pro-
duction], not that one should." But legal language is necessary for the legal
aspects of both base and superstructure precisely in order to see the changing
historical character of this interaction and interpenetration.
Earlier on this same page, Cohen suggested that Marx had used legal
language in defining productive relations because he had "no attractive alter-
native." Cohen does not even consider the possibility that Marx did not
intend the domains of base and superstructure to be strictly separate, that
their lack of separation did not worry Marx because he was theorizing on
the basis of a philosophy of internal relations.
Similar problems arise in Cohen's discussion of science. He holds that
"scientific knowledge which is open to productive use is a productive force."
This means that "not . . . all of science belongs to the productive forces,
but only the productively relevant parts" (45). The rest, presumably, lies
outside base and superstructure altogether. Yet how is this "rest" or remainder
to be distinguished from the productively relevant parts? The implication of
Cohen's discussion is that the term "science" is an abstraction which, in
reality, refers to the set of all individual sciences. Thus, he could respond b
arguing that some individual sciences are part of the productive forces, while
11. The punctuation in this quotation has been slightly altered to make it read as one
sentence.
others lie outside; but this is implausible since it is obvious that many indi-
vidual sciences have both productively relevant (such as technological)
aspects and other aspects which are not productively relevant. More prom-
isingly, Cohen could argue that it does not matter that the location of indi-
vidual sciences is ambiguous as between productive forces and the area out-
side the model; all that matters is that they are not ambiguous within the three
sectors of the model, for this is where all historical materialism's explanations
will occur. But this would serve only to raise the further problems of how to
distinguish "scientific knowledge" from the "institutions of science" and how
to show that no science is or could be part of the productive relations.12
All such problems can be avoided simply by conceding that Marx did not hold
(or did not always hold) that the various strata of the social whole are dis-
tinct and bounded, that is, always externally related. In making such a move,
Rader is able to offer discussions of science and the law which, by compari-
son, are elegant in their simplicity.
Cohen, however, like Shaw,13 does not even broach the question of Marx's
commitment to a philosophy of internal (or external) relations. For Cohen
wishes to defend a "primacy thesis" about the causal relationship of pro-
ductive forces to productive relations and superstructure, which would seem
to be weakened by (and would, in any case, require alteration in the face
of) evidence of Marx's commitment to a philosophy of internal relations.
Cohen states the "primacy thesis" as follows: that "the nature of the produc-
tion relations of a society is explained by the level of development of its
productive forces" (134). He later states a similar thesis about the relation
of structure and superstructure: that "the character of non-economic institu-
tions is largely explained by the nature of the economic structure" (217).
The qualifying adverb "largely," found in the second thesis, is also to be
understood in the "primacy thesis" itself, which, as Cohen explains, means
that productive forces explain productive relations "to a far greater extent
12. Shaw, for instance, does suggest that science can be a relation of production
(23-24), and for him, therefore, part of the economic structure. Of course, it may be
that this connection is less likely in the case of ownership relations than in work rela-
tions (which Shaw includes in, but Cohen excludes from, the economic structure).
However, even if Cohen were to contend that it is the economic structure, rather than
relations of production in general, which matters in historical explanation, he would
be hard pressed to argue that science could not be bound up with ownership relations
(such as some areas of political science like comparative jurisprudence).
13. Shaw does take a quick swipe at Bertell Ollman, who is widely known for his
view that Marx did hold a philosophy of internal relations. But Shaw's critique of
Ollman's view that Marx did not assign "causal primacy to any single realm" is confused
precisely because he does not introduce the larger question of the distinction between
internal and external relations. See Shaw, 70-71.
than vice versa" (134). "Primacy," then, does not mean exclusiveness. But
Cohen is somewhat confusing as to what it does mean, and we need to pin
this down before considering his arguments for the thesis itself.
Cohen rejects the idea that ''primacy" means "symmetry" or "no priority
either way" (137). From this we gather that "primacy" refers to some point
or area between the mid-point and the end-point on a scale of determination;
from the earlier qualifying phrase ("far greater extent") we might assume
that the point or area of primacy is rather more toward the end-point than
toward the mid-point. But Cohen then confuses the issue by saying that
"primacy" means "unidirectional[ity]" (137) and by rejecting any "dialecti-
cal" view (138, 145) of the productive force/productive relation relation-
ship, where "dialectical" seems to mean simply interactive. We thus appear
to have been pointed toward "exclusiveness" rather than "far greater extent."
In the end, however, Cohen does concede that the relations do condition the
forces - and in three (far from trivial) senses (165). We must conclude,
then, that "primacy" is as we initially understood it: forces explain relations
"to a far greater extent than vice versa."
As for the arguments for the thesis itself, Cohen is too elaborate to permit
summary here. He has arguments from the "Preface" (from which he carves
out six key sentence fragments) and from "outside the 'Preface' "; some of
his arguments pertain to the view that Marx held "primacy," others to the
view that "primacy" is right. So I will consider only one case. Cohen offers
two arguments in favor of the view that the "Preface" sentence - "relations
of production . . . correspond to a definite stage of development of . . .
material productive forces" -was understood by Marx to entail primacy
(137-138). The first is that, though the word "correspond" may be under-
stood either in the sense of "symmetry" or "non-symmetry," it must be the
latter sense which pertains here. For Marx goes on in the next sentence to
say that forms of social consciousness "correspond" to the economic struc-
ture, and this time "correspond" must be understood non-symmetrically
since "later Preface sentences do assign a derivative role to social con-
sciousness" ( 1 37 ).14 Yet this conclusion is based on a false premise. As
Rader points out, Marx did not argue that consciousness is derivative from
the "economic structure" but rather from "social being," a term which is
"broad enough to cover family ties, political relations, and other [structural
and superstructural] social connections and activities" (Rader, 16).
In Cohen's second argument about this sentence (which is more involved),
he suggests that, if Marx had wanted to assert "symmetry," he would likely
have included some "generalizations asserting the putative reverse move-
ment" (138). 1 would readily grant this point, yet it is not decisive for estab-
14. The only other possibility, in Cohen's view, is that the word "is used with a
fundamental difference of intent in two adjacent sentences," a possibility he rightly
considers unlikely.
15. It is probably worth noting that neither Cohen nor Shaw attacks the "organic
model," though a great deal in both books would seem to presuppose such an attack.
Cohen's lone reference to organicism is, in fact, favorable (233), and Shaw actually
claims that Marx subscribed to a particular version of the organic model of society (7
16. Cohen would not disagree with this since he also renders bedingt as conditions
(vii); Shaw, however, might disagree since he renders it as determines (67).
17. This last point was a favorite one of Antonio Gramsci's, which he- also used to
make an argument for the importance of working-class consciousness. See Gramsci,
Selections from the Prison Notebooks, ed. and transl. Q. Hoare and G. Nowell-Smith
(New York, 1971), 138. 162, 365, and 371.
would tend to imply the equal importance of all internally related elements),
but also on a notion of hierarchy, which makes some elements more causally
determinant than others. According to Rader,
He [Marx] believed that all the elements in a social order are distinctions within
a totality, but that to the extent that they are distinct, the political and cultural
elements are causally less dominant that [sic] the economic. The character of the
society is predominantly - not exclusively - determined by its peculiar mode of
production, especially by the way in which surplus value is extracted from its
workers - for example, by slavery, serfdom, or wage-labor. Similarly in an organ-
ism there are key functions, such as the circulation of the blood, that contribute
more than other functions to the maintenance of the whole. (75-76)
Rader's use of the words "dominant" and "predominant" (here and else-
where) to characterize the historical role of the "mode of production" sug-
gests that he too conceives its role in terms of primacy (rather than sym-
metry or exclusiveness), though he does not, like Cohen, treat the forces/
relations and structure/superstructure relationships separately in this respect.
Despite his preference for an explicitly "determinist" interpretation of
historical materialism, Shaw also essentially agrees with Cohen about the
nature of the causal interactions within the theory. Like Cohen, he ex-
plicitly defends a "primacy of the productive forces" thesis (55 ff.), and, also
like Cohen, he shows a strong dislike for any use of the word dialectical in
characterizing that thesis (56). Yet he does suggest that, in his view, Marx
was "attempting to occupy the middle ground between a facile interactionism
[apparently a "symmetry" or "equal weight" thesis] and a crude economic
materialism" (68), and Shaw readily concedes that productive force change
is not a sufficient condition for production relations change (57). He also
notes - again, despite his determinist rhetoric - that the weaker proposi-
tion that productive force change is a necessary condition for productive rela-
tions change, while generally true, must be qualified since "Marx and Engels
occasionally allow for superstructural phenomena to gain (some) indepen-
dence from the economic base and to react back on the relations of produc-
tion, modifying them (59)." His position on the "primacy thesis" proper,
then, appears to be the same as Cohen's and Rader's.
On base-superstructure relations, Shaw does declare that "it is a law for
Marx that the superstructure is derived from the base," but this view is also
qualified, for Marx's law is "a law about laws: in each social formation more
18. Rader might seem to be attacking the primacy thesis when he denies that Marx
ever held "fundamentalism"; for fundamentalism's third proposition, according to Rader
("that the causal determination is entirely or almost exclusively one-way, with the eco-
nomic system determining the 'superstructure' and not vice versa"), looks very much
like a primacy thesis. But when Rader actually attacks fundamentalism, rather than
simply characterizing it, the version he attacks (16-17) is a complete economic deter-
minism and lacks the "almost exclusively one-way" qualification.
specific laws govern the precise nature of this general derivation" (69). And
in no case do these "more specific laws" amount to a one-way, causal de-
terminacy, for Shaw also concedes that "legal relations are able to grain
[sic] some independence from the relations of production" (44). Ultimately,
Shaw's position, like Rader's, is that "Marx's model ranks the spheres of
social life in a hierarchy" (68).
We may conclude, then, that the three authors do not appear to have any
serious disagreements either about the causal weight to be assigned to the
various aspects of the social order or about the way these aspects interact.
But this, of course, does not mean that there are no serious disagreements
especially between Rader and the others. Rader's description of historical
materialism differs from Shaw's and Cohen's on at least three major ques-
tions: the causes of revolution, the nature of explanation, and the nature of
the philosophical conception underlying Marx's theory.
It is the last of these questions that I want to discuss here, and I will
simply indicate what the nature of the disagreements is on the other two.
First, unlike Shaw and Cohen, Rader does not believe that Marx's account
of revolution (especially the coming proletarian revolution) involves solely
an objective analysis of base-superstructure relations. Rather, Rader believes,
Marx's account of revolution links an objective analysis (what Rader calls
the "outer dialectic") with an analysis of working-class consciousness (the
"inner dialectic," or relationship between powers and needs): "Revolutionary
transformation will ensue when and only when the inner dialectic of radical
needs matches the outward dialectic of socio-economic contradictions"
(206).
Secondly, on the question of explanation, Rader suggests that Marx denied
a HIumean causality in favor of an "organic causality" (85). But, as I indi-
cated previously, Rader does not fully articulate this conception. Shaw, who
is even briefer on this issue than Rader, does not necessarily accept a Humean
account either (70), but he rejects the language of "dialectics" in favor of
the positivistic language of "laws" and "regularities." Cohen, who is intensely
interested in the issue of historical explanation, has two complex and in-
triguing chapters which ascribe a "functional" form of explanation to Marx.
Such explanation is much more attuned to a logic of external relations than
the form Rader advocates.
What then, precisely, is the philosophy of internal relations which Rader
unearths in Marx? Several versions of such a philosophy are extant in recent
discussions of Marx. Bertell Olman, in Alienation, maintains that the internal
relation "is the irreducible minimum for all units in Marx's conception of
WALTER L. ADAMSON
Emory University
In 1939 Aime Cesaire published his searing, long poem "Cahier d'un retour
au pays natal." In it he wrote of his native Martinique, of colonial oppression,
of rediscovered African sources; he coined the term Negritude. His poem
was written in the language of Lautreamont and Rimbaud, but it was a
French spattered with neologisms, punctuated by new rhythms. For CUsaire
a "native land" was something complex and hybrid, salvaged from a lost
origin, constructed out of a squalid present, articulated within and against
a colonial tongue.'
By the early 1950s the Negritude movement was in full swing, thrusting
an alternative humanism back at Europe; and in this new context it became
possible to question European ideological practices in radical ways. In 1950,
a friend and collaborator of Cesaire, Michel Leiris, composed the first ex-
tended analysis of the relationship between anthropological knowledge and
colonialism.2 His discourse opened a debate which has continued, with vary-
2
ing degrees of intensity, during the subsequent decades. How has European
knowledge about the rest of the planet been shaped by a Western will to
power? How have Western writers, both imaginative and scientific, been en-
meshed in colonial and neocolonial situations? How, concretely, have they
ignored, resisted, and acquiesced in these enduring conditions of inequality?
Leiris pointed to a basic imbalance. Westerners had, for centuries, studied
and spoken for the rest of the world; the reverse had not been the case. He
20. One book which indicates the sort of study I have in mind is Helmut Fleischer,
Marxism and History, transl. E. Mosbacher (New York, 1973).