Introduction
The subject of this book is communism. How one speaks about communism depends on what one takes communism to mean. In what follows, I will understand communism to be the project of subordinating the economy to politics in order to allow politics to act freely and sovereignly. The economy functions in the medium of money. It operates with numbers. Politics functions in the medium of language. It operates with words - with arguments, programmes and petitions, but also with commands, prohibitions, resolutions and decrees. The communist revolution is the transcription of society from the medium of money to the medium of language. It is a linguistic turn at the level of social praxis.
Thus, it is not enough to define man as a speaking being, as is generally done in modern philosophy, notwithstanding all the subtleties and differences that distinguish one individual philosophical position from another. So long.
As humans live under the conditions of the capitalist economy, they remain fundamentally mute because their fate does not speak to them. If a human is not addressed by his or her fate, then he or she is also incapable of answering it. Economic processes are anonymous, and not expressed in words. For this reason, one cannot enter into a discussion with economic processes; one cannot change their mind, convince them, persuade them, or use words to win them over to one's side. All that can be done is to adapt one's own behavior to what is occurring. Economic failure brooks no argument, just as economic success requires no additional discursive justification. In capitalism, the ultimate confirmation or refutation of human action is not linguistic but economic: it is expressed not with words but with numbers. The force of language as such is thereby annulled.
Humans will first truly become beings who exist in language and through language only once fate is no longer mute and no longer governs at a purely economic level but is instead formulated discursively and decided politically from the outset, as is the case in communism. Humans thereby gain the possibility of arguing, protesting, and agitating against the decisions.
INTRODUCTION XVII
of fate. Such arguments and protests may not always prove effective. They may often be ignored or even suppressed, but they are not as such meaningless. It is entirely meaningful and justified to oppose political decisions in the medium of language because those decisions were themselves reached in the medium of language. Under capitalist conditions, by contrast, every criticism and every protest is fundamentally senseless, for in capitalism, language itself functions as a commodity, that is to say, it is inherently mute. Discourses of critique and protest are recognized as successful when they sell well, and to have failed when they sell poorly. Thus in no respect can these discourses be distinguished from other commodities, which are equally silent—or speak only in self-advertisement. Criticism of capitalism does not operate in the same medium as capitalism itself. In terms of their media, capitalism and its discursive critique are incompatible and so can never encounter each other. Society must first be altered by its linguistification if it is to become subject to any meaningful critique. Thus we can reformulate Marx's famous thesis that philosophy should not interpret the world but instead change it: for society to become subject to criticism, it must.
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First, become communist. This explains the instinctive preference for communism felt by all those equipped with critical consciousness, for only communism performs the total linguistification of human fate that opens the space for a total critique.
Communist society can be defined as one in which power and the critique of power operate in the same medium. If the question is posed, therefore, of whether the regime of the former Soviet Union should be regarded as communist—and this question appears unavoidable whenever communism is discussed today—then, in the light of the definition given above, the answer is yes. The Soviet Union went further towards realizing the communist project historically than any other preceding society. During the 1930s, every kind of private property was completely abolished. The political leadership thus gained the possibility of taking decisions that were independent of particular economic interests. But it was not that these particular interests had been suppressed; they simply no longer existed. Every citizen of the Soviet Union worked as an employee of the Soviet state, lived in housing that belonged to the state, shopped in state stores, and traveled through the state's territory by means.
of state-run transport. What economic interests could such a citizen have? Only the interest that affairs of state would improve, so that the citizen of this state would be better able to profit—no matter whether legally or illegally, through work or through corruption. In the Soviet Union, a fundamental identity between private and public interest thus prevailed. The single external constraint was military: the Soviet Union had to defend itself against its external enemies. By the 1960s, however, the military capabilities of the country had become so great that the possibility of belligerent attack from outside could be rated as extremely improbable. From that moment, the Soviet leadership stood in no 'objective' conflict: it had no internal opposition, and it was also subject to no external constraints that could limit its administrative powers over the country. Its practical decisions could therefore be guided solely by its independent political reason, its own inner convictions. Granted, this political reason—because it was dialectical reason—led the Soviet leadership to abolish communism of its own free will. Yet this decision, in no way alters the fact that communism must be considered to have been realized in the Soviet Union. To the contrary: as will.
XX INTRODUCTION
Be shown in what follows, it is this decision that makes the realization, the embodiment, the incarnation of communism complete.
In any case, it cannot be said that the Soviet Union failed economically, for economic failure is only possible in the market. But the market did not exist in the Soviet Union. Hence, neither the economic success nor the economic failure of the political leadership could be established 'objectively', that is to say, neutrally, non-ideologically. Certain commodities were produced in the Soviet Union not because they sold well on the market, but because they conformed to an ideological vision of the communist future. And on the other hand, those commodities that could not be legitimated ideologically were not produced. This was true of all commodities, not just the texts or images of official propaganda. In Soviet communism, every commodity became an ideologically relevant statement, just as in capitalism every statement becomes a commodity. One could eat communistically, house and dress oneself communistically—or likewise non-communistically, or even anti-communistically. This meant that in the Soviet Union, it was in theory just as possible
to protest against the shoes or eggs or sausage then available in the stores as it was to protest against the official doctrines of historical materialism. They could be criticized in the same terms because these doctrines had the same original source as the shoes, eggs, and sausage—namely, the relevant decisions of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the CPSU. Everything in communist existence was the way it was because someone had said that it should be thus and not otherwise. And everything that is decided in language can be criticized linguistically as well.
The question of whether communism is possible is, therefore, profoundly connected to the question of whether government, organization, and political administration can be carried out in language and through language. This central question can be formulated as follows: can language as such ever exercise sufficient force for society to be governed by linguistic means at all—and if so, under what conditions? This possibility is often flatly denied: in our era especially, the view predominates that language as such has no force at all and is entirely powerless. This assessment accurately reflects the situation of language under capitalist conditions. In capitalism, language is indeed powerless. On the
XXII INTRODUCTION
Basis of this understanding of language, it is also generally assumed that in communism the ruling apparatuses characteristically acted behind a facade of official language and compelled people to accept the language of power. And this assumption is not entirely unjustified. Indeed, this suspicion appears to be sufficiently confirmed by the long history of political repression in communist countries.
But this leaves open the question of why these oppressive apparatuses acted in favor of one particular ideological conception and not in favor of some alternative conception. For the loyalty of these apparatuses with regard to a particular ideology cannot be taken for granted. To be loyal and to remain loyal, these apparatuses had first to be persuaded, to be won over. Otherwise, they would remain immobile and fail to act, as was indeed the case at the end of the communist states of Eastern Europe. Moreover, under communist conditions, these apparatuses cannot be cleanly separated from the rest of society, for in a society which consists exclusively of state employees—and Soviet society was such a society—the question about who oppresses whom, and how, cannot be posed in the same way as it is in a society in which
INTRODUCTION XXIII
the apparatuses of power are more or less cleanly separated from civil society. When state violence in communist states is considered, it must therefore not be forgotten that this violence was conveyed through language—through commands and decrees with which one might comply but equally might not. The leaderships of the communist countries understood this much better than their opponents did. It was for this reason that these leaderships invested so much force and energy into shaping and maintaining the language of official ideology and were so incensed by minimal deviations from it. They knew that outside of language they actually possessed nothing—and that if they lost their control over language, they would lose everything.
The theory of Marxism-Leninism is ambivalent in its understanding of language, as it is in most matters. On the one hand, everyone who knows this theory has learned that the dominant language is always the language of the dominant classes. On the other hand, they have learned too that an idea that has gripped the masses becomes a material force, and that on this basis Marxism itself is (or will be) victorious because it is correct. In what follows, it will be shown that the
XXIV INTRODUCTION
structure of communist society depends precisely on this ambivalence. But first another question needs to be explored: how ought this ‘ideal’ linguistic compulsion function — this compulsion that can ‘seize’ individual people and potentially also the masses — if
it is to transform thereby into a revolutionary force of constitutive power?