Theorizing capitalism

Unity and diversity

A thematic approach seems much more relevant. I will distinguish three focal problematics, each of which is centred on opposite but interrelated concepts. There is, to begin with, an ongoing controversy about the unity and the varieties of capitalism. Given the prima facie evidence of capitalism in many shapes and guises, unity can only be theorized against a background of diversity; it is therefore best to consider the state of inquiry concerning varieties, before turning to the possible versions of unity. It is not clear (at least not to the present writer) when the expression ‘varieties of capitalism’ was first used, but the idea certainly has a longer history than the term, and it would not be inappropriate to look for classical precedents. For one thing, Max Weber – notwithstanding his strong emphasis on the universal significance of modern Western capitalism – did at least allude to the difference between capitalism as a product of internal dynamics and as a ready-made import. The latter was, as he saw it, characteristic of Japan and likely to gain ground in China. Further analysis along these lines would no doubt have thrown light on divergent implications of the two models, but Weber did not pursue the topic. A continuous debate on different versions of capitalism can probably be traced back to the 1980s, when the main case in point was the East Asian – first and foremost, the Japanese – record of economic development and the specific role of the state in that context. Chalmers Johnson’s work on Japan was central to this field, and it is worth noting that he referred to the capitalist developmental state, thus making it clear that the Japanese ‘miracle’ was to be seen as a version of capitalism; later controversies about the developmental state have not always paid due regard to this claim.

In the 1990s, work on the varieties of capitalism was overshadowed by unilinear and triumphalist ideology. The question became more insistent after the turn of the century and especially with the onset of the financial crisis. But it was not always formulated in the same sense. As things now stand, we can distinguish several variations on the theme of diversity. The most widely discussed (and mostly assumed when the abbreviation ‘VoC’ is used) is the model proposed by Peter Hall and David Soskice (2001), which focuses on the organizational structure and the interrelations of capitalist firms. While this approach has proved conducive to valuable empirical research, its micro-economic bias makes it less than satisfactory to those who aim at a broader historical-sociological perspective on capitalist formations. Such extensions of the frame of reference can centre on state involvement or on cultural patterns of economic life. East Asia became a favourite field for both these lines of argument; neither the developmental state nor the notion of Confucian capitalism can be regarded as exhausted topics, and the same applies to the question of imperial antecedents to capitalist development in both Japan and China – differently structured, but in both cases grounded in cultural as well as political traditions (on the imperial legacy of Communist China, see Aglietta and Bai, 2015).

The more complex version of the varieties-of-capitalism perspective, giving full weight to broader socio-cultural contexts, lends itself to various further twists. It figures as a background assumption when attempts are made to present a polarizing vision of capitalist alternatives. This figure of thought has a somewhat ambiguous record: no particular model has so far gained lasting acceptance, but the general idea tends to reappear in new terms. Michel Albert’s distinction between Rhenan and Anglo-Saxon capitalism was mentioned above; before that, a Japanese model had been contrasted to the Western one and often proposed as superior; there were also attempts to construct a typology that grouped Japanese and German capitalism together and opposed them to Anglo-American patterns. After a temporary decline, the notion of capitalist bipolarity now seems to be reviving. In 2012, The Economist published a thematic issue on ‘The rise of state capitalism’, primarily but not exclusively associated with the emerging economies. This view is obviously not of great importance for the confrontation of Western powers with Russia; but there are signs (e.g. the talk of a ‘Beijing Consensus’ as opposed to the Washington one) of stronger association with China. In any case, the changing conceptions – theoretical and ideological – of ‘capitalism against capitalism’ are invariably backed up by claims about broader institutional patterns corresponding to the two types. Configurations of economy, state and society are integral to the dividing lines. However, the main focus is on alternatives within an economic framework, and the boundary between capitalism and its social context is therefore blurred.

That boundary becomes, in principle, clearer if we shift to another perspective: the idea of multiple modernities. Admittedly, much remains to be done to translate programmatic points into concrete analyses. The writings of S. N. Eisenstadt, who did most to define the multiple modernities approach, have relatively little to say on modern capitalism; the author was much more interested in political and ideological modernity. But some indications can be gleaned from particular comments, such as the brief characterization of Japanese capitalism in the book on Japanese civilization (Eisenstadt, 1996), and from closer examination of the underlying logic that allows us to think of multiple modernities. As formulated by Eisenstadt, the idea rests on two presuppositions that have not always been taken into account by those who now work with it. First, the formation of diverse modernities, be it in successive historical phases, geographical regions or separate states, presupposes the possibility of combining basic components of modernity in different ways. The variety of spatio-temporal constellations presupposes a structural plurality of parts in varying relations. Capitalism is undisputedly one of the components, but its relationship to the others becomes a matter for historical and comparative study; this view does not rule out a predominant role of capitalist institutions or dynamics in specific contexts or situations, but it excludes the equation of capitalism and modernity (or, in other words, the definition of the latter as capitalist society tout court). Second, the idea of multiple modernities presupposes some kind of common denominator (otherwise there would be no justification for the substantive term). Eisenstadt’s solution to this problem, much less widely noted than his conception of multiple modernities, was to introduce the idea of modernity as a new type of civilization: at the most basic level, it is defined in terms of cultural orientations that maximize the scope and significance of human autonomy. For Eisenstadt, this central characteristic of modernity is neither a value nor a norm; it makes more sense to think of autonomy as a new cultural problematic, open to divergent interpretations that can in turn – when translated into historical projects – lead to unintended and often counter-intuitive results. Antinomies and paradoxes are therefore key themes in Eisenstadt’s analyses of modern societies, and particularly prominent in political and ideological contexts. A proper application of this paradigm to capitalist development, going beyond Eisenstadt, would have to focus on the aspects that combine extensions of human autonomy with new counter-trends: the accumulation of abstract wealth, the unlimited expansion of the commodity form and the modes of action linked to it (including their imposition on Polanyi’s ‘fictitious commodities’ (land and labour), and the dynamics of global expansion. The question of possible variations arises in all three dimensions.

This is, however, not the whole story about multiple modernities. It is an integral and important part of the approach thus described that modern civilizational trends can be modified and redefined by persisting legacies of older civilizational patterns. Eisenstadt applied this idea to various aspects of modern Chinese and Indian history; but as noted above, the main comment on capitalism is to be found in a work on Japan, and it is very brief in comparison to the extensive discussion of other connections between tradition and modernity in Japanese civilization. Eisenstadt’s description of the ‘Japanese mode of capitalism’ stresses several types of interlocking: between business and government, between economic units, and between companies and unions. On a more general level, he argues that capitalist development in Japan was marked by two characteristics: The economic sphere was less autonomous and more integrated into the dynamics as well as the strategies of the nation-state than in the West; at the same time, economic action was more firmly embedded in complex networks of social exchange. The much more detailed analysis of Japanese civilization then clarifies the socio-cultural background to these modern institutional patterns. Eisenstadt portrays Japan as the only non-axial civilization that survived both encounters with axial ones and a transition to modernity. Here I cannot discuss the contrast between axial and non-axial civilizations; suffice it to say that, for Eisenstadt, axiality has to do with innovative distinctions between different levels of order, and that in the course of a complex history (beginning with transformations in Greek, Jewish, Indian and Chinese cultures), such distinctions affect the relationships between spheres of social life and modes of action. By the same token, enduring pre-axial traits are conducive to more muted forms of differentiation and less radical ruptures with archaic visions of the world. In the Japanese case, Eisenstadt singles out an emphasis on continuity that prevails on multiple levels: between private enterprise and government intervention, between state and society (where the notion of the ‘family state’ has played a key role), and in the overall interrelations between tradition and modernity. Last but not least, the distinctively Japanese mode of thought – reaffirmed through encounters with Chinese axiality and Western modernity – posits continuities between nature, culture and the sacred.

Eisenstadt’s interpretation of Japanese capitalism calls for a closer examination, both with regard to the economic regime that was still largely intact when he was working on the book and to the recent changes affecting basic structures. Whether they amount to a ‘great transformation of Japanese capitalism’ (Dore and Lechevalier, 2011) is a question of great interest for comparative history, but it cannot be pursued here. We should, however, note some conceptual implications that seem relevant even if Eisenstadt’s specific analysis of Japan is questioned. In the first place, the interaction of expanding modern civilization with older civilizational legacies may result in more or less distinctive and durable patterns, but they are not to be understood as compromises between purely cultural logics. Cultural potentials are activated through the actions of elites and movements, often in conflict, and always involved in historical processes. Inter-civilizational encounters unfold in time (as Eisenstadt notes, the defining institutional orientations of Japanese modernity took clear shape in the early twentieth century, after a period of less clear-cut developments). Second, the different versions of capitalism emerging in such situations depend on broader civilizational contexts that affect their principles of organization as well as their practical scope for growth and innovation.

The third approach to varieties of capitalism disconnects the issue from controversies about modernity and does so without any reference to the civilizational dimension. The prime example is Michael Mann’s analysis of capitalism as a configuration of economic power, variously intertwined with other forms of social power. Mann’s view is perhaps most succinctly expressed in a recent book on the possible futures of capitalism (Wallerstein et al., 2013); this important work links the question of twenty-first-century prospects to a number of other problems regarding capitalism, and Mann’s way of combining historically grounded theory with tentative prognosis illustrates one version of the shared approach. As he sees it, two plausible scenarios for future capitalist development can be envisaged (pp. 90–2). One possibility is a ‘more exploitative but still unchallenged capitalism’, with high unemployment, ‘capitalists well organized, workers divided and less organized’, and ‘a hereditary lower class’. The other is a low-growth scenario, with diminished power of finance capital and improving labour conditions, ‘an almost steady-state economy’. Mann notes that both alternatives presuppose basic limits to growth, related to the finitude of the planet and its resources; his doubts about this assumption do not go beyond a general reference to renewal through creative destruction.

Mann goes on to argue that both scenarios (as well as any other vision of a capitalist future) might be obliterated by either of two possible mega-crises: nuclear war or climatic catastrophe. The point that matters most in our context is that both these threats are linked to social processes, and geopolitical factors are particularly important (they affect, in one case, the spread of nuclear weapons and, in the other, the ability to limit emissions). The possibility of such crises is the most extreme manifestation of a fundamental pattern, defined as follows: ‘modern society and modern capitalism are not systems. They are influenced by multiple overlapping networks of power, each with their own distinctive causal chains’ (p. 196). The basic forms of power are economic, political and ideological, and Mann adds the military type; each of the corresponding networks has a certain internal constitution, but it does not necessarily translate into one dominant dynamic. Moreover, the four networks ‘interact, but not in a systematic way’ (p. 73). There is no general formula for their changing constellations (notions of cyclical patterns are, in Mann’s view, attempts to construct more coherent models than the evidence will support). The level and the focus of interconnections, the relative weight and autonomy of each power network, and the importance of specific mixtures are all subject to historical variations. Mann notes that geopolitical relations constitute the ‘distinctive mix’ of political and military power that might even be considered as a fifth form; we might add that geopolitics has also proved particularly significant as an outlet for ideological power.

As Mann’s application of this framework to the recent history of capitalism shows, a strong case can be made for the multi-network approach. Its implications for our problematic are obvious: the question of unity and diversity is, in a sense, turned around. Whichever view of capitalism we prefer (production-centred, market-centred or finance-centred), the defining features are at the same time open to further determination by the broader configurations of social power. Only comparative research can then show to what extent a coherent economic regime is imposed on this intrinsically diverse field, and how uniform such regimes can be. And the ‘underlying meta-theory of modern economics – that is, the idea of a real or natural economic substratum ‘ (Ingham, 2004: 48) appears as an ideological projection of real but limited trends. Although it posits a self-contained economic sphere, it is thus a result of ideological power transfiguring economic power.

System and history

Before considering the arguments of contributors to this section, we should briefly discuss a conceptual dichotomy that was to some extent inherent in the debate on unity and diversity, but has a logic of its own: the distinction between system and history. As we have seen, the most limited version of the ‘varieties of capitalism’ model works with assumptions about the basic institutions of capitalism and examines divergences within that range; this is, in principle, a systemic model. With the shift to stronger emphasis on variation, history becomes a more significant part of the picture, and Mann’s approach makes it central to the whole problematic of capitalism. If we look for arguments on system and history in other contexts, the first thing to note is that there has been no discussion or differentiation of positions comparable to the one summarized above. On the other hand, there are notable tensions between historical and systemic perspectives within the work of some important authors. To begin with Marx, the first part of the Communist Manifesto does not mention capitalism, but can in retrospect be read as a history of capitalist development and its social ramifications – a history that centres on a revolution and culminates in expectations of another one. In later writings, Marx shifted to a more systemic analysis of the capitalist mode of production. But in his arguably most interesting though long-unknown work, the Grundrisse, a historical point of view reasserts itself (Marx, 1993). It shapes Marx’s long-term model of social development, which distinguishes between pre-capitalist, capitalist and expected post-capitalist phases, in terms of humanity’s relations to its natural and social conditions of existence. The significance of the capitalist mode of production can only be understood in light of its transformative impact on these conditions, preparing the way for an even more radical transformation. As for the latter, it is – in Marx’s most interesting formulations – envisaged as a complete transmutation of work through scientific knowledge, and thus as depriving the capitalist economic regime of rational justification. To put it another way, capitalism thus produces more history than it can absorb or contain.

A higher level of tension between system and history is evident in the writings of Joseph Schumpeter. He credits Marx with pioneering efforts to clarify the economic ‘mechanics of capitalist society’ (Schumpeter, [1942] 1996: 20), and his own attempt to tackle this question in more adequate terms refers to a ‘capitalist engine’, a ‘structure of the economic system’ and an ‘apparatus’(pp. 72, 74), all of which suggests a systemic logic to be grasped by economic concepts. On the other hand, and also with an acknowledgement of Marx’s path-breaking insights, he characterizes capitalism as a ‘form or method of economic change’ (p. 82). He thus recognizes the primacy of process, but when it comes to closer focus on the form of change, the core of the matter – the ‘essential fact about capitalism’ (p. 83) – turns out to be the process of creative destruction, more precisely the ongoing innovation of production, organization and marketing, leading by the same token to a steady obsolescence of established methods. Notwithstanding Schumpeter’s reference to the organic and evolutionary character of this process, it is clear that the dynamic of creation and destruction does not fit into the model of systemic mechanics inherent in the economic sphere. A closer look at agencies and implications is bound to involve the whole of what Schumpeter calls ‘the civilization of capitalism’; it is characterized by an unprecedented expansion of rationality, boosted by the advances of economic calculation, but also by an extension of rationality beyond its proper bounds as well as by a new opening to extra-rational forces. Among the latter, we must count the ‘super-normal ability and ambition’ that begin ‘to turn to business as a third avenue’ alongside church and lordship (p. 125). The affinity with Max Weber’s perspective on the interaction of rationality and charisma is obvious, and the resultant view is no more compatible with historical determinism than the Weberian one. Schumpeter’s analyses of entrepreneurial action, central to the process of creation and destruction, turned to history in the twofold sense of concrete context and emergent novelty. As Richard Swedberg (1993) emphasizes, Schumpeter’s last essays show growing concern with the cultural and institutional sources of entrepreneurial action, and the latter is less strictly identified with private enterprise than in the earlier work.

Schumpeter’s work is thus a good example of the tension between systemic and historical approaches, and in his case, it is closely linked to a double-edged intellectual commitment: to rigorous and self-contained economic theory, and to an interdisciplinary vision of the socio-economic field. Comparable ambiguities can be found in the works of later authors, such as Immanuel Wallerstein. One of his early critics described the combination of world and system as a conceptual misalliance (Zolberg, 1983); the point was, in other words, that the reference to world history, made up of heterogeneous constellations and contingent chains of events, was at odds with the idea of a unifying systemic logic. It may be possible to read Wallerstein’s successive writings as an attempted rebuttal of this criticism, and it seems significant that he chose the title ‘Historical Capitalism’ for the most succinct statement of his theory (Wallerstein, 2011). The general logic of his ‘modern world system’, based on the unending accumulation of capital and its different modes of operation in central, peripheral and semi-peripheral regions, is defined in very abstract terms, whereas the unfinished multi-volume history of this formation is a very detailed account of concrete trajectories. A critical assessment of Wallerstein’s work, not to be attempted here, might take its cue from the question of history within or beyond the limits imposed by world system theory.

To conclude this part of our discussion, it may be useful to recall a classical approach that seems to put history above system in a particularly decisive way. Geoffrey Ingham ([2008] 2013: 32–4) draws attention to Max Weber’s view of modern Western capitalism as the product of a conflict-ridden but also cooperative and mutually formative relationship between the bourgeoisie and the state. This connection (on one occasion, Weber refers to it as a ‘memorable alliance’) was shaped by rationalizing trends and visions on both sides, but each side could also develop in ways that were likely to threaten the established patterns of their relationship. The prospect of a bureaucratic state undermining the ethos and the dynamism of the capitalist economy is a familiar Weberian theme, but he also, albeit less frequently, envisaged the weakening of the alliance between capitalism and freedom, caused by structural changes of the former. Irrespective of such prognostications, the idea of a historical constellation linking state formation and capitalist development seems the most promising alternative to overly systemic models. As in Weber’s de facto final (in his view, provisional) summary (Weber, [1920] 2014), the emphasis on a ‘concatenation of circumstances’, more precisely, and to use terms inspired by though not used by Weber, we are dealing with intertwined patterns of economic and political power.

The spirit of capitalism: continuities and mutations

This view of capitalism in context raises the further question of cultural frameworks, always involved in configurations of the economic and the political. In twentieth-century debates, the cultural dimension was thematized as the ‘spirit of capitalism’, and the work that did most to popularize this notion – Weber’s Protestant Ethic – also developed it in a way that brought our third dichotomy into focus. One of Weber’s most provocative claims was that the spirit initially needed to empower modern capitalism against traditionalist adversaries was, in the long run, destroyed by the dynamic of the economic regime it had helped to put into place. In light of Weber’s later work, it can hardly be denied that his increasingly complex interpretation of capitalism changed this view of the relationship between spirit and dynamic. The rationality that remains essential to capitalist economic action and its frameworks is clearly a matter of more or less conscious and articulate cultural orientations, hence of factors belonging to the sphere subsumed under a post-metaphysical notion of spirit. To underline this point, it may be added that the belief in calculation as the key to universal mastery, mentioned in Weber’s 1917 lecture ‘Science as a vocation’, represents a distinctive mentality and a driving force. Despite these substantive changes (which did not prevent Weber from republishing the Protestant Ethic with stronger versions of some older formulations), there was no explicit reconsideration of the relationship between spirit and dynamic, and this problematic has not been prominent in post-classical discussions. A certain revival has taken off from the idea of a ‘new spirit of capitalism’ (Boltanski and Chiapello, 2007), based on the appropriation of counter-cultural themes by the economic elite, from the 1970s onwards, and translating into more flexible forms of organization; the result is a renewed dynamic that accounts for the successes of capitalism at the end of the last century. But this approach is atypical, and the whole issue remains under-theorized.

If we want to reactivate the question of the spirit of capitalism and its role in the unfolding transformations of modern economic life, some reconceptualizing moves are in order. To recapitulate an argument developed at length elsewhere (Arnason, 2001), we may draw on the Hegelian categories of subjective, objective and absolute spirit, without the metaphysical connotations of their original versions, and with modifications suggested by more recent innovations in philosophy and the human sciences. At all three levels, implicit meanings must be taken into account (this is a theme explored from many angles in contemporary thought, and Castoriadis’s conception of imaginary significations (Castoriadis, [1987] 1997) is a particularly ambitious attempt to bring it to the centre of social theory). In the case of the subjective spirit, the analytical perspective is not to be confined to the question of motivations (too strongly emphasized in The Protestant Ethic and thus conducive to later misunderstandings of that work), the deeper layers and broader contexts to be explored involve the very structures of subjectivity. Authors drawing on Foucault, but writing after the financial crisis, have argued that neo-liberalism strives to model the subject on the enterprise (Dardot and Laval, 2014). This claim is convincing, with the proviso that the model of the enterprise should be understood as an imaginary projection, and the ongoing confrontation with historical experiences may bring to light new implications and inherent problems. The objective spirit is the realm of institutions, and the field should not be reduced to the ‘institutions of capitalism’, theorized by ‘new institutional economics’ as rules governed by the imperatives of economic rationality. Rather, the task is to link up with sociological and social-philosophical traditions of interpreting meanings inherent in and at the same time pointing beyond institutions, from Durkheim’s collective representations to Castoriadis’s imaginary significations. Finally, the adapted notion of the absolute spirit refers to perspectives on the world and the human condition, constitutively involved in capitalism as a cultural formation. Again, the explicit ideological and utopian constructions of capitalism are only a part of the picture; the underlying meanings lend themselves to different interpretations, and here the notion of the imaginary seems particularly relevant. As a first approximation, we can distinguish three aspects. The utilitarian imaginary, tentatively identified by Marx when he referred to a capitalist conversion of nature into a system of general utility, is a shared background to capitalist versions of wealth, including use value, exchange value and the abstract value that becomes a medium of accumulation. The rationality of calculation and domination is an inseparable corollary of the utilitarian world-view, but it also generates images of power that can appear as correctives or alternatives to the existing order. Finally, modern capitalism is rooted in the distinctively modern civilizational vision of autonomy. This connection is, however, more complicated than dominant ideologies would suggest. The link between individualism and capitalist forms of economic life is a familiar theme of modern thought, but the primacy of the market is also a much-elaborated organizational and ideological principle, and when it is (as in at least one version of neo-liberal discourse) seen as an expression of autonomy in the sense of self-organization, the defence invites confrontation with other interpretations of autonomy. Here, as on other levels of the capitalist imaginary, the boundary between the spirit and the critique of capitalism is far from closed.

All the abovementioned aspects suggest further exploration of cultural and institutional backgrounds. The spirit of capitalism turns out to be a composite and multi-contextual field of meaning; this is in line with the implicit direction taken by Weber’s unfinished work (it may be added that this recognition of complexity brought him closer to Werner Sombart’s position, though that was not acknowledged). But Weber also referred to capitalism as the ‘most fateful force of our modern life’, and this memorable formulation continues to inspire those who want to emphasize the dynamic side of the phenomenon. Schumpeter’s more lapidary description of capitalism as first and foremost a process of change conveys the same message: the experience and image of a new economic regime, capable of subverting not only external obstacles, but also its own historical preconditions and temporary frameworks. This perception tends to return in periods of rapid and radical change, not least during the last quarter-century, and it should certainly not be regarded as irrelevant to current theorizing. The relationship between a formative spirit and a transformative dynamic is still a matter for debate.

Comments on articles

The articles published here touch upon the various themes outlined above, but do so from very different angles. Uwe Schimank situates his interpretation of modern capitalism at the crossroads of sociological debates. He accepts the notion of functional differentiation as a defining feature of modern society, but proposes to combine it with a revised version of Marxian arguments for the primacy of the economic sphere, now grounded in specific claims about capitalism rather than in a ‘materialist’ conception of history and society. Moreover, he draws on developments in systems theory, particularly the work of Niklas Luhmann, to clarify the logic of differentiation, but then anchors the whole argument in a theory of action. In general terms, the multiple autonomous domains of action – neither reducible to a closed list nor subordinated to a systemic logic – are the primary frameworks of social life. A noteworthy feature of Schimank’s model is the combination of aspects otherwise stressed by divergent theories of action. Actors pursuing their goals in different domains produce structures more or less prone to develop their own dynamics and overpower their creators; each domain gives rise to specific and defining value-orientations; but the universes of meaning that take shape around such values are also marked by illusions equally characteristic of the field (this last aspect, linked to exaggerations and misconceptions of real but bounded autonomy, figures prominently in Bourdieu’s analysis of practical meaning).

The empowerment of the economic sphere, at the expense of all others, is a historical development due to particular innovations of modern capitalism. An unlimited pursuit of profit becomes the dominant goal of economic activity; coordination through competitive markets structures the economy and affects its social environment; all factors of production are subsumed under the commodity form. This combination enables the capitalist economy to raise services to other spheres to higher levels than any other economic regime in history, but also to impose its criteria and priorities on an unprecedented scale. At the same time, the heightened dynamism of the economy has a destabilizing impact. Neither the capitalist core structure nor its broader social context are self-regulating systems. That point leads to the final step of Schimank’s argument. Drawing on ideas developed by Eduard Heimann in the late 1920s, but incorporating them into a much more complex theory, he analyzes social policy – embodied in the institutions of the welfare state – as a corrective to the self-endangering trends of capitalist development. This is not a return to the traditional form of functional explanation. The intertwining of capitalism and social policy may be described as a functional antagonism, i.e. a constellation of interdependent actors in pursuit of divergent interests guided by opposing ideas; but the formation of this contingent and always fragile pattern depends on the insights, strategies and alliances of social forces, not on any superior systemic mechanisms. Consequently, its further prospects and therewith the future of capitalism depend on unpredictable historical concatenations of the same kind. The history of capitalism reveals considerable self-damaging propensities, and they may – as Schimank concludes – result in collapse, but we do not and cannot know whether that will happen.

Christoph Deutschmann takes a more interdisciplinary line. Continuing his earlier efforts to theorize the religious dimension of capitalism, he argues that the analysis should start at the level of basic capitalist institutions and practices, rather than with external historical factors. To put it another way, the point at issue is the intrinsic religious aspect of capitalism as an economic regime, not a religious culture coming from elsewhere and creating preconditions for capitalist development. In an earlier work, Deutschmann pursued this line of inquiry through closer examination of the promises inherent in the capitalist form of economic life. The utopian vision of absolute wealth is, as he showed, central to the dynamics of accumulation and to the success achieved against non-capitalist alternatives. The present paper emphasizes another side to the immanent religion of capitalism: its role in the self-constitution of society. Deutschmann takes up a core notion of the Durkheimian tradition, the idea that the ongoing self-creation of society depends on self-images, and that these images have, for most of human history, been articulated in religious terms. If the same or at least a sufficiently similar role is now to be attributed to economic institutions (primarily money and markets), their imaginary content and symbolic potential must be duly acknowledged; and that means getting rid of the notion of money as a quasi-natural outgrowth of exchange. It is an imaginary institution, and as such, it is a precondition rather than a result of the commodifying process seen by Marx as the first defining feature of capitalism.

Those who search for religious meaning in capitalism must confront the classic sociological accounts of religion, beginning with Durkheim. Deutschmann stresses two aspects of the Durkheimian model: the religious mirror that society holds up to itself helps to construct collective identity and to cope with existential uncertainty. With the transition to modernity, the religious projections lose their institutional power, but retain some influence on other kinds of self-images, among which the nation and the nation-state – as paradigms of identity and subjects of history – are the most salient. It is now a commonplace that they are too narrow and exclusivistic to provide adequate self-definitions of modern society; but it has also been convincingly shown that sociological attempts to construct theoretical definitions of society in general and modern society in particular are often implicitly modelled on the nation-state. Luhmann’s theory of social systems attempted to escape from these difficulties by admitting the paradoxical character of society’s self-description (it must include the observer who is at the same time distinguished from the observed object); stressing the radical autonomy of subsystems constructing their own universes of meaning; and reducing the encompassing social system to a field of relations between the subsystems (as Deutschmann notes, the relational conception of society goes back to Simmel). Deutschmann’s thesis is that a reconsideration of money and markets can throw new light on this problem. These institutions function as the most basic and global mechanisms of integration, and in that capacity they seem to provide a new basis for the self-description of society. But their prima facie abstract and simplifying logic leads to complex and opaque processes as well as to myths grounded in innovations but going beyond that basis. For both these reasons, rationalizing interpretations are needed, and if their object has a religious dimension, a comparison with theology suggests itself. Deutschmann concludes with an overview of theological residues in economic thought, from Adam Smith’s invisible hand to Hayek’s higher reason embodied in evolution.

Gary Hamilton and Solee Shin link their discussion of capitalist development in East Asia to broader historical and theoretical horizons. As they argue, the debate first concerned with Japan and then extended to the Korean and Taiwanese ‘tiger economies’ should now adopt a large-scale and long-term perspective on the rise of Asian capitalism. This is not only a matter of doing justice to the epoch-making Chinese transformation; the growth of capitalist economies in Southeast Asia and more recently in India must also be taken into account. And this enlarged field of reference suggests a further step. Capitalist development is a global process that transcends political and cultural borders, retains essential characteristics throughout its history, but can also generate new patterns in response to changing conditions. From this point of view, Marx’s critique of political economy – a project that proved open to multiple interpretations in different historical circumstances – can be invoked in support of a new approach to East Asian experiences. The main point is the self-renewing and open-ended dynamism of an economy that cannot be contained within the borders of nation-states. In relation to East Asia, this perspective implies a critical view of analyses focusing on the ‘developmental state’, supposedly central to East Asian economic growth after the Second World War. As Hamilton and Shin show, Chalmers Johnson’s seminal work on the developmental state was not simply an interpretation of the Japanese trajectory. Johnson gave a new twist to an older tradition of stressing state involvement in economies catching up with Western industrial powers; his argument was also linked to a more general effort to ‘bring the state back in’, characteristic of debates in the social sciences during the late 1970s and early 1980s.

Against statist models, Hamilton and Shin emphasize the growing importance of international trade, and this view connects with Marx’s references to networks of production and exchange, even if his concrete analyses placed the main emphasis on production. But to spell out the historical meaning of the conceptual shift, it is necessary to move away from neo-classical constructs of the market and its supposedly general laws. The developmental history reconstructed by Hamilton and Shin centres on a process of export-led and demand-responsive industrialization, markedly different from the supply-centred capitalism familiar to the classics, and its key episode was the ‘retail revolution’, i.e. not so much the final demand of consumers as the ‘intermediate demand created by retailers and merchandisers in anticipation of final demand. The main factor is, in other words, the ‘economic power of big buyers’, and the geo-economic framework links East Asia to the American market. This multiple contextualization of East Asian development does not eliminate national and regional aspects of the field in question. Hamilton and Shin refer to detailed research on South Korea and Taiwan; comparably detailed work on the much longer Japanese record of development would no doubt yield a somewhat different picture, and the concrete historical background would have to be given its due. At the end of the article, the two authors suggest that ‘there are not varieties of capitalism, but varieties of ways that different countries may join, or hold back, the main currents of global capitalism’. It is not being implied that such ways are necessarily less interesting or important than those attributed to a capitalist regime or system. And it seems likely that a closer look at the ‘variety of ways’ would bring back a perspective noted by the authors as a less widespread alternative to the statist models: the emphasis on cultural and institutional contexts of East Asian economies; the state will obviously reappear on that level. The question of the developmental state will not go away, but it calls for recontextualization, with critical distance from theories that overstated the autonomy, coherence and rationality of state power.

To conclude, it should be noted that all the articles have something to say on the three problems discussed above. To begin with unity and diversity, Deutschmann’s case for capitalism as a religion is explicitly connected to the claim that disembedded markets achieve a global unity beyond all religious precedents. But if capitalism has a religious momentum that surpasses historical religions, the question of possible diversification – not posed in Deutschmann’s article – must be considered. Divergences, schisms and conflicts are ubiquitous phenomena in the history of religions, and the capitalist version of the religious imaginary is at least not a priori immune to such trends. In any case, the unity analyzed by Deutschmann is clearly not of a systemic character; and the same applies to the other authors. Schimank borrows concepts from systems theory, but as we have seen, he transfers them to the context of action theory and allows for multiple spheres of action. Again, sources of diversity seem inherent in the overall pattern. Hamilton and Shin do describe capitalism as a system, but that appears less important than their emphasis on a global process and multiple pathways of entry. In short, and with critical reference to Ingham’s comment on theories of capitalism (quoted at the beginning of this article), it may be the case that the novelty of some current theorizing consists precisely in moving beyond systemic models. As noted above, this is also Michael Mann’s point.

It is less clear whether we can speak of a convergence on questions related to the spirit of capitalism and its place in the context of developmental history. The interpretation of capitalism as a religion, defended by Deutschmann, is the strongest possible version of a permanently present and continuously active spirit, embodied in institutions and practices; no comparable claim is made in the other articles, but if we want to relate their arguments to the same issue, the most interesting points of contact might be the allusions and references to money as a core institution. Schimank explains the primacy of the economy in terms of money as an elementary and ultimate resource, but does not discuss its broader cultural and institutional implications. Similarly, the shifts of market power analyzed by Hamilton and Shin presuppose concentrations of monetary power, but within the framework of the article, that aspect is taken for granted. This is not the place to pursue the matter. But to sum up a proposal for further discussion, it seems that the instrumental, institutional, symbolic and imaginary aspects of money as a total social phenomenon (in the sense adumbrated by Mauss) are a particularly promising field. This key to rethinking capitalism is also a way to renew the debate with Simmel’s still undervalued Philosophy of Money, without losing sight of the Marxian ideas that can still be salvaged from a discredited fetishistic theory of value.