The silent treatment of class domination: ‘Critical’ comparative capitalisms scholarship and the British state

An ideologist account of ideology: Andrew Gamble

The topic of Gamble’s book, The Free Economy and the Strong State, is the ‘doctrine’ of Thatcherism as a ‘hegemonic project’. This doctrine is based on the social order described in the title. According to Gamble, ‘The idea of a free economy and a strong state involves a paradox’ (1988: 28; emphasis added). The use of the term ‘paradox’ is noteworthy here, not least because of its relevance for the core claims made by CC scholarship. On the one hand, it is consistent with the claim made by proponents of the varieties of capitalism (VoC) approach that political economies cohere around a broadly complementary set of institutional configurations, market structures and policy-making patterns (Hall & Soskice 2001: 17). On the other hand, it assumes that although market and non-market aspects of the political economy can be distinguished from one another, they inter-relate in ways that imply overlaps in terms of their content and orientation. In theory, then, this points to how a critical political science can overcome the limitations of mainstream studies of capitalist diversity, which assume that market and state always-already form separate, discrete entities (see analogous attempts by comparative capitalisms scholars – e.g. Streeck 2011).

That said, Gamble’s statement merits further critical examination. It is obvious that it would be paradoxical to demand ‘a weak and a strong state’ or ‘a free and a constrained economy’. Can the same said be of ‘a free economy and a strong state’? Where exactly does the paradox lie? Gamble elaborates on his initial statement in the next sentence: ‘The state is to be simultaneously rolled back and rolled forward’ (1988: 28). Now he seems to have produced a paradoxical statement; yet when he elaborates on it in the subsequent sentence, that is no longer the case: ‘Non-interventionist and decentralised in some areas, the state is to be highly interventionist and centralised in others’. Overall, Gamble produces a pseudo-paradox: he generates the appearance of contradiction by firstly claiming that a non-contradictory statement contains a contradiction; then providing a statement that seems contradictory because it leaves out information crucial for the issue described in it; and finally supplying this missing information in a separate sentence that does not contain a contradiction.

The importance of this early problem for Gamble’s entire line of argument becomes clear when we consider what he says a few pages earlier: ‘In analysing Thatcherism, the key problem is to decide what gives it coherence’ (1988: 23; emphasis added). This suggests that the entire book is about solving a puzzle linked to the pseudo-paradox: how can Thatcherism be a cohesive political project if it is based on contradictory demands, i.e. a free economy and a strong state? Gamble’s answer is fairly simple: Thatcherism has roots in both conservatism and liberalism. These may be conflicting ideologies, but ‘some strands’ are also entwined: for example, both traditions are anti-collectivist and regard property highly (1988: 54). Case closed: this common ground accounts for the coherence of Thatcherism. Yet the assumption that Thatcherite ideology is a mixture of conservatism and liberalism soon causes additional critical problems. Gamble observes (1988: 28) that Thatcherism is marked by ‘ambiguity’: ‘the New Right can appear by turn libertarian and authoritarian, populist and elitist’. Presumably, this represents a continuation of the argument that Thatcherite ideology has its roots in different traditions: it is ambiguous because it represents an amalgamation of authoritarian/elitist (conservative) and libertarian/populist (liberal) ideas. Following this pattern, it should be possible to link policies characteristic of Thatcherism to either side.

But how do we do this in practice, for example if we consider the Thatcherite attack on trade unionism? On the one hand, fighting the unions enjoyed broad popular support. This suggests that the government acted in a ‘populist’ manner when it did so. On the other hand, its interventions went against working people and served business interests. As a result, it seems to have been ‘elitist’ at the very same time. Moreover, it regularly portrayed the unions as ‘vested interests’ and as enemies of the free market and a free society. So it was seen as a ‘libertarian’ force, too. However, it also undermined the ability of workers to act collectively, which suggests that it embodied ‘authoritarianism’ as well. Consequently, it is impossible to trace back the attack on the unions to any one of the two ‘original ideologies’ of Thatcherism. Rather, Gamble’s observation seems to be based on drawing together the diverging perceptions of one and the same political intervention from different standpoints in the social fabric: for many trade unionists the government was an authoritarian, for many business people a libertarian force. It appears that the ‘ambiguity’ in Thatcherite ideology cannot be accounted for by referring to internal ideological tensions, but by pointing to divergences in its public perception that reflect its asymmetric effects on different social groups.

Therefore, there is a gap in Gamble’s line of argument. He is blind to the fact that material factors, in particular structured inequalities, play a key role in the constitution of ideological ambiguity within hegemonic projects and the economic and political struggles surrounding them (cf. Poulantzas 1967: 67). So rather than analysing the interplay of ideological and material factors in the constitution of incoherent ideologies, he produces a pseudo-paradox. As symptomatic readers, we have good reasons to suspect that this reflects Gamble’s problematic and the limits of his field of visibility resulting from it. Gamble’s account of the historical context of Thatcherism confirms this suspicion. For example, he argues that there was an international ‘crisis of hegemony’ (1988: 1) in the 1970s. Economic and political factors are little more than ‘exogenous shocks’ that magnify pre-existing weaknesses of the dominant ideology:

The institutions and policies of social democracy came under attack almost everywhere. The challenges were made through ideological debates as well as by new political programmes and movements. Many of these challenges began before the appearance of the global crisis of accumulation and hegemony. But they became much stronger once the political and economic foundations of the post-war order had been undermined. (1988: 11; emphasis added)

In line with this, Gamble’s book not only starts with a chapter on New Right ideology and its roots in conservatism and liberalism, but it also ends with an analysis of ideology, i.e. the ideological weaknesses of Thatcherism. Ideology is the entry point and the end point of Gamble’s line of argument. Against this backdrop, Gamble’s problematic can be identified easily: it is the production, reproduction and transformation of ideologies underpinning political rule. In the first and the last instance, material factors do not figure in this process; ‘Ideologism permeates everything’, to use Marx’s words (1861: 332). Gamble does use a range of concepts that originated in the Marxian–Gramscian tradition – e.g. ‘accumulation’, ‘hegemony’, ‘Fordism’ – to endow his work with a ‘critical’ character. However, his ideologism shows that he does not subscribe to the ontological and epistemological assumptions underpinning the works of Marx and Gramsci, especially their materialism. As a result, he is not able to realise the potential of his suggestion that contradictions are inherent in the political projects emerging in a capitalist context.

In sum, Gamble creates the impression that he provides a holistic analysis of British capitalism, but in fact operates with a considerably narrower focus on only certain aspects of the topic. The attempt to analyse the rise and consolidation of the Thatcherite political project in its economic and political context is substituted by an enquiry into the ideology of Thatcherism. At a stroke, and as with the CC literatures, the study of capitalism as a structured whole is thrown overboard (see, for comparison, Schmidt’s [2002] enquiry into discourse). Gamble’s work can thus be viewed as a sophisticated yet flawed forerunner of the explosion of similar work on capitalist diversity from the 1990s onwards.

An empty conception of the state: Colin Hay

In his book Re-Stating Social and Political Change, Colin Hay claims to at least partly build on ‘Marxist and neo-Marxist conceptions of the state’ (1996: 8). In particular, he heaps praise on Bob Jessop. According to Hay (1996: 8), Jessop argues that the core of the state apparatus

‘comprises a distinct ensemble of institutions and organisations whose socially accepted function is to define and enforce collectively binding decisions on the members of a society in the name of their common interest or general will’ (Jessop 1990: 341). The strength of this definition is that it puts the contradictions and dilemmas of the state at the heart of its analysis.

It is noteworthy, first of all, that Hay provides a definition of the state that is not peculiar to materialist state theory or to Jessop’s approach: the idea that politics is about producing ‘binding decisions’ is the standard fare of mainstream political systems research (cf. Easton 1953: 133; Parsons 1971: 15). Besides, there are non-Marxist accounts of the state that also highlight the contradictions and dilemmas inherent in it (cf. Luhmann 2000: 20); and this conception of the state is present in the strands of CC scholarship that emphasise the role of the state in contemporary political economies (Levy 2006; Boschi & Santana 2012). Second, Jessop’s statement does not say what Hay infers from it: it does not mention contradictions or dilemmas. Third, both Hay’s definition and his entire book are marked by an awkward silence on class. I am saying ‘awkward’ because Hay builds on Gramsci, Poulantzas and Stuart Hall, who all put class domination ‘at the heart’ of their respective analyses (Gramsci 1971: 180; Poulantzas 1975; Hall et al. 1978: 195).

But what is this symptomatic for? Hay’s own conception of the state provides us with some clues. According to Hay, ‘what might be taken as a characteristic, even defining, trait is the essential variability of the state – its dynamic nature as a condensation of power relations in society’ (1996: 9). Strikingly, Hay includes the Poulantzasian term ‘condensation’ in the sentence. For Poulantzas (1978: 129; cf. Bretthauer 2011), ‘material condensation’ refers to the fact that the capitalist state is both a field of class struggle and a reflection of class struggle, as well as an instance facilitating the reproduction of class domination (see below for more). But Hay explains none of this. He claims Poulantzas’s legacy by creating the impression that, for Poulantzas, the concept of condensation marks nothing but the dynamic nature of the state. In essence, then, Hay uses an empty conception of the state.

This is also evident in Hay’s analysis of Thatcherism, which he sees as a ‘state and hegemonic project’ (1996: 17). His entry point is the Winter of Discontent, the public sector strike wave in the winter of 1978–9. According to him, in the ‘construction’ of the events as ‘a crisis of an “overloaded” state “held to ransom” by the unions, the post-war settlement was symbolically shattered’ (1996: 120). He adds: ‘In this strangely liminal moment of transition, Thatcherism as a state project secured state power’. This passage reveals a constructivist take on the state and an ‘ideologist’ problematic resembling Gamble’s. In the last instance, the construction of powerful state projects relies on the ability of political leaders to articulate an interpretation of the political status quo and a vision for the future that secures the consent of the public. Following Hay, it did not matter whether this interpretation had a grain of truth to it or not; what mattered was that it was sufficiently ‘flexible’ and ‘simple’ for people to find it convincing (101; emphasis in original). This explains Hay’s empty definition of the state: if ideology shifts, the nature of the state shifts, too. Consequently, he cannot say much about the capitalist state at a general level – a fundamental flaw that is visible in both contemporary debates on capitalist diversity and the statist literatures that inspired many of these discussions (for example, Evans et al. 1985).

Unsurprisingly, Hay’s analysis of Thatcherism is essentially a rehashing of Gamble. Thatcherism is a paradoxical mixture of neoliberalism and neo-conservatism (1996: 130). As with Gamble, this assumption creates a critical problem: in this case, an implicit question that remains unanswered. Given the contradictory nature of Thatcherism, Hay observes (1996: 135):

it might be expected that the politics of the Thatcher years would be characterized by constant struggles between neo-liberal and neo-conservative tendencies. However, such open ideological confrontation has in fact been rare … [O]n many of the core components of the Thatcherite ‘instinct’ neo-liberalism and neo-conservatism converge.

Miraculously, two ideologies that had been assumed to be based on ‘antithetically opposed principles’ suddenly converge in an unproblematic way (1996: 135). We are again dealing with a pseudo-paradox; and again, a ‘critical’ political scientist is prevented by his ideologism from seeing the ambiguity in Thatcherite ideology as a product of its interplay with a material environment characterised by structured inequalities.

In sum, Hay masks a constructivist problematic by using terminology based on materialist ontological and epistemological assumptions – in particular the assumption that capitalism is characterised by class domination – to which he does not subscribe. Hence this terminology becomes the fig leaf that simultaneously highlights Hay’s critical stance and masks the deficiencies of constructivism and ideologism. This mirrors a recent turn in CC scholarship in light of the post-2007 crisis, which asserts that capitalism needs to be ‘brought back in’ while maintaining the theoretical frameworks developed prior to 2007 (cf. Streeck 2011).

State power vs. class power: Chris Howell

In his book, Chris Howell provides an account of the British state based on the regulation approach (2005: 22, 31). In contrast to Gamble and Hay, he explicitly agrees with the idea that capitalism entails class conflict (2005: 23). Going against the ‘voluntarist’ or ‘liberal-collectivist’ traditions in the British industrial relations literature, he argues that the state plays a key role in constructing systems of industrial relations and the corresponding institutions (2005: 2). He sees three successive industrial relations systems at work in Britain since industrialisation took place: ‘collective laissez-faire’ [1890–1940], ‘decentralization’ [1940–1979], and ‘decollectivization’ [1979–1997] (2005: 15). Against this backdrop, Howell’s problematic can easily be identified: the reproduction of capitalist class relations through different periods of class conflict, which takes place within institutions created by the state. Accordingly, Howell sees Thatcherism as state project (2005: 143), and stresses that the government not only modified industrial relations law, but also created a political and economic environment that made it increasingly difficult for trade unions to advocate working-class interests (2005: 6). Hence his use of the term ‘decollectivization’ to describe this process (2005: 132).

Howell provides a broadly correct description of what happened under Thatcherism. But the question remains as to how this process can be explained. For Howell, the background to the changes was the crisis of Fordism throughout the Western world, which was compounded by specific weaknesses of the British economy: there was only a ‘flawed’ form of Fordist mass production in the first place. In addition, he mentions the failed attempts to establish an alternative regulatory framework for the British economy through the expansion of industrial democracy (2005: 136), and the narratives surrounding the industrial unrest of the 1970s, which were based on ‘notions of overly powerful trade unions’ (2005: 143). But what was the driving force behind the state’s attempt to restructure industrial relations? For Howell, it seems to have been the interests of the employers. He remarks: ‘increasing numbers sought to construct industrial relations institutions that not only avoided trade unions and collective bargaining but shunned collective representation and collective regulation of any kind’ (2005: 133). At this point, Howell’s explanation is instrumentalist: ‘the state was central to this process of institutional restructuring’ (2005: 134). In other words, it was the weaponry in the hands of the employers forcing workers into a new system of industrial relations.

Soon after, the question of the driving force becomes a critical problem: Howell argues that the state ‘gave employers the confidence to contemplate sundering existing relationships with their employees and restructuring workplace institutions’ (2005: 134). Suddenly, the state resembles the cavalry in an old Western: it comes to the aid of the employers once the going gets tough. In other words, it is no longer a tool, but a subject with independent capacities. This suggests that Howell’s assessment of Thatcherism is informed by two contradictory explanations for the capacity of the state to create and restructure institutions. In some contexts, he explains institutional change with reference to the mobilisation of state power by employers; in others, he assumes that the state is an autonomous entity capable of instigating change itself. In consequence, Howell’s account is informed by a contradictory conception of the capitalist state, which results from his inability to reconcile class and state power. Depending on his focus in a given passage, he explains changes in industrial relations either with reference to state power or to class power.

This is also visible when Howell analyses New Labour. Suddenly, he brackets class power and solely refers to state power when discussing industrial relations restructuring – possibly because this enables him to avoid difficult and politically awkward task of identifying the class represented by New Labour of the class interests represented by New Labour. Howell is surely right in saying that New Labour consolidated the system brought about by the Thatcherites (2005: 189). But his conclusion that there was ‘a new consensus’ and that ‘both the labor movement and the employers’ associations seem broadly content with this industrial relations settlement’ (2005: 190) is unconvincing. Since he does not take into account class power, he does not even consider that union acquiescence in the New Labour era could be the product of strategic decision-making in a situation of weakness rather than active consent to the government’s political course. The rise of the ‘awkward squad’ of left-wing union leaders in the early 2000s (cf. Murray 2003) suggests that there was deep-seated discontent in at least some sections of the British trade union movement.

At this stage of Howell’s analysis, then, organised labour is portrayed as a passive recipient of processes of socioeconomic change. This mirrors the largely positive discussions in CC scholarship of ‘pacts for competitiveness’ across different European countries from the mid-1990s onwards, which assume that organised labour is no longer an active protagonist in capitalist societies, and that workers should therefore be content with the concessions that they receive – especially if the government in question is nominally social democratic (cf. Bruff’s critique from 2011). In addition, it dovetails with the (contradictory and unexplained) assumption widespread in these literatures that the state simultaneously possesses agentic capacities and is also driven to promote employer interests (see, for example, Scharpf & Schmidt 2000a, 2000b). In other words, the limitations of Howell’s analysis means that it converges, in certain respects, with approaches that are far less class-sensitive than his.

To summarise, unlike Gamble and Hay, Howell is not an ideologist and hence is not blind to the effects of structured inequalities on political projects. Like them, however, he fails to articulate a systematic explanation of the relationship between capitalism, class and the state and thus provides a flawed account.