Egalitarian Dreams, Liberal Realities: A Comparative Study of Constant
and Marx
Mae Liu
12 May 2023
The “spectre” of communism, and one of its many antitheses—representative government—has long loomed its clashing shadows over the modern world, the words of thinkers like Benjamin Constant and rebuttals from Karl Marx travelling across timelines to ring eerily true across history. This spectre certainly remains alive today in the sheer notoriety surrounding communism’s name—a household taboo in America, often thrown in conjunction with capitalism from Internet jokes all the way up to heated Congress accusations. Both Constant and Marx are contrasting thinkers that built the framework for several modern governments, notably using history as testament to their political proposals. While Constant believes that modern conditions demand representative government, Marx insists that they demand communism—so which arguments are most applicable to our modern world? Moreover, if representative democracy is as superior as Western civilisation purports, how can we justify the rising turmoil in so many areas of society? Are modern conditions actually incompatible with the government we have always known, or has this structure simply been fomenting rebellion all along?
The qualities of Constant’s modernity are indeed irrefutable, but also confirm precisely why representative governments only facilitate the ends of tyranny. As Marx points out, the ruling class’s structure and dependence on wage labour predestines systemic conflict and unsustainable property relations. By examining the misleading merits of mass commercialisation, the hypocritical idealism of a representative government under capitalism, and the historicised concept of revolution, it becomes clear that Constant’s modern conditions may seek representative government, but the long-term sustainability and welfare of a society can only be achieved through communism.
To begin, though there is undeniable evidence for Constant’s characteristics of modernity—namely, an era transformed by commerce—Marx reveals the fatal flaws of empowering these modern attitudes through capitalism, and illustrates its path to social collapse. The first difference between antiquity and modernity, Constant explains, is the sheer growth of states: not only did the “geographically small” since of ancient states necessitate a perpetual state of war and survival, but the “bigger a country is, the smaller is the political importance allotted to each individual” (Constant 3). In modernity, then, the individual citizen inevitably has less influence over politics. Made an “invisibly small part of the social will,” their “will never impresses itself on the whole” (4). This size-based alienation from politics extends into a behaviour-driven one: industrialisation has catalysed a widespread preference for commercial gain over political power. This is because the former now does the job of the latter: “War precedes commerce, because they are merely two different ways of achieving the same end—namely, coming to own what one wants to own” (3). As war has become a less efficient means of acquiring property, the mutual agreements formed through commerce become all the more appealing. A modern example is the concept of sanctions and trade wars, which take precedence over actual military-based warfare, simply because economic failure can now do as much—if not more—harm to a nation as losses on the battlefield. Examples include successor states after WWI, or Germany during WWII, which all saw unprecedented inflation, disastrous consequences from restricted trade, and other economic repercussions. Germany especially faced this pressure as an Allied tactic in order to incentivize a peace treaty.
Mass commercialisation has also engaged people from all walks of life in consumption and production. While
those in ancient states would have “languished under the weight of miserable inaction” if not for the “constant exercise of political rights,” people today have “infinitely multiplied and varied the means of personal happiness” (4). The proliferation of courtiers in the Renaissance, for instance, or the vast range of official posts in Ancient China (not to mention all the positions occupied in internal court affairs) show the minimal avenues of life one could take in the past (either peasant, scholar or government official, unless born into a ruling class) as opposed to today, where capitalism makes everyone an entrepreneur and everything a commodity. This has evidently brought about a rise of personal independence, where modern satisfaction is derived from the freedom to choose what we buy and sell. This correlates, according to Constant, with a rise in general hostility towards government authority, as individuals prioritise the “independence of opinions” and “right to choose” above all else (2). This disdain for the government can be seen in the growing lack of trust between citizens and mainstream media: during the COVID-19 years, for instance, we witnessed overwhelming protests from populations who would rather preserve their right to choose (vaccinations, masks) rather than subject themselves to a nation-wide mandate. In antiquity, the individual was often a “slave in all his private relations” but a member of collective political power—subject to majority rule, one could be “deprived of his status, stripped of his privileges, banished, put to death, by the free choice of the whole of which he [was] a part” (3). With the heightened desire for independence, freedom of opinion, and removal from politics—all driven by mass industrialisation and commercial relations—it is clear to see why those ancient governments are no longer applicable to our modernity.
The solution Constant proposes, however, is where his logic veers off-course: “our liberty has to consist of the peaceful enjoyment of private independence,” he asserts, by which he means capitalism (2). Commerce, which has radically changed our attitudes towards politics and satisfaction in modernity, also “supplies [our needs and] satisfies [our] desires, without any intervention from the authorities” (5). While on the surface this focus on freedom to privately acquire wealth seems appealing and compatible with our modern materialistic needs, Marx exposes the temporary nature of Constant’s solution. As Marx essentially argues, feeding the beast of capitalism has already led to inhumane, unsustainable conditions. Hence, Marx’s modernity is one that calls attention to the extant turmoil that Constant has glossed over. He initially acknowledges the conditions of Constant’s modernity, but exposes its instability: as “markets kept ever growing,” he notes, they have simplified all class antagonisms into “two great hostile camps” (Marx 473). The shift between antiquity and modernity was brought about by a restructuring of society and resolution of class conflict (the bourgeois overthrow of feudalism), thus foreshadowing the resolution of tensions that bourgeois capitalism has bred. Rather than the simple linear progression of industrialisation Constant proposes, it becomes evident that history follows a cyclical or recursive pattern of class reformation. What makes capitalism an especially unsustainable solution to modern attitudes is its facilitation of “naked, shameless, direct, brutal exploitation” (475). While exploitation took the guise of religious and political tyranny in the past, capitalism has the potential to explicitly exploit the working population in the name of economic prosperity—the implied greater good of any society.
What capitalism also threatens to destroy is “honest,” “cultural,” or artisanal production: while the loss of individual culture is an accusation often levied at communism, Marx points out that “the development of industry has to a great extent already destroyed it, and is still destroying it daily” (485). One needs only to look at the dispute over how much artists or independent trade workers should get paid: AI art and NFTs have commodified creative expression as of late, artists dying out as consumers are conditioned to prefer affordability over “honest production.” Conglomerates like Amazon rise as artisanship falls, the cheapened price of mass-produced goods skewing the pricing points of small producers (Hardy). Thus, the commerce-dominated conditions of modernity and its consequences—exploitation, destruction of culture, the loss of humanity—will only be exacerbated by investing so wholly in capitalism. Hence, while Constant is justified in saying representative government would best uphold capitalistic tendencies of an industrialised society, capitalism itself proves deeply flawed and incompatible with social welfare.
Next, after talking at length about the state of modernity, Constant’s actual characterization of representative government is overly optimistic at best: by proposing a ruling body to relieve citizens of political burdens, yet also urging the people’s executive authority to abolish representatives if they see fit, this convoluted argument is stretched precariously thin. Even Constant acknowledges the inevitable tyranny of a governing minority, using Sparta as an example and condemning it as a monastic aristocracy. Governed by only five magistrates chosen by the people, “their
power, far from being simply a barrier against tyranny, sometimes became an intolerable tyranny” itself (1). The difference in Constant’s representative government, however, is its subjection to the people’s interests—namely, capitalistic gain. The authorities are to “provide us with highways, but don’t tell us which route to take;” in essence, maximise the conditions for commerce, but hold no jurisdiction over the free market (10). This rather puppet-like government grows more apparent when he explicitly characterises it as the appointment of a few individuals to do what the nation cannot or does not want to do itself. This, in Constant’s mind, is a display of a nation’s prosperity, much like a rich man’s ability to hire stewards—albeit “[keeping] a close and strict watch on whether [the stewards] are doing their duty, making sure that they aren’t negligent, corruptible, or incapable” (12). This interplay of the wealthy and legislation raises an interesting parallel between the ruling classes of America and our own policies. These “rich men” are precisely the top 1% whose immense economic influence easily translates into political power. The Willow Project, crude oil corporation ConocoPhillips’ venture to open up 250 wells in Alaska, is a current example of the chokehold the wealthy can exercise over government legislation, as the Biden Administration remains largely powerless to veto it—despite the vast majority of citizens protesting its environmental consequences (Kolbert). The problem with a representative government that caters solely to economic gain, then, is the inevitable neglect of those who cannot attain financial mobility (and therefore political sway) in the first place.
This begs the question: who exactly is Constant’s
representative government for? As Marx is quick to disclose: “the executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie” (Marx 475). He examines this veiled hypocrisy using religion and other ideologies still present today: abortion, gun control, gay marriage, and other rights that would otherwise facilitate the safety and happiness of individuals are repeatedly abolished in favour of religious arguments (once again, by representatives who are notorious for ignoring majority voices in favour of their own ideologies). The congressional hearing held over TikTok—an app favoured by younger generations for championing free speech and information—is a case study in this tyrannical tendency. After making headlines for the Congress members’ cherry picked arguments and extensive use of ad hominem, an implicit agenda grew strikingly obvious. News sources soon noted the rare bipartisan support of the app’s ban, and Congress’s exposed stock market portfolios—with large shares in Meta, TikTok’s primary competitor—began to point towards the use of legislative action to feed financial interests (Katje). This “nexus” of self-interest, as Marx predicted, dissolved “religious fervour, chivalry, philistine sentimentalism” (i.e. what would usually divide representatives across blue and red lines) into mere “egotistical calculation” (475). Thus, the pervasive potential of capitalism and representative government becomes increasingly stark.
In contrast, communism is defined as the “formation of the proletariat into a class,” endeavouring to “overthrow…the bourgeois supremacy” through political conquest—namely, the abolition of private property (484). Born directly out of pre-existing, exploitative property relations, communism serves to eradicate the “miserable character of this appropriation” under which the working class “lives merely to increase capital” (485). The culture of a capitalistic society, Marx underscores, is “a mere training to act as a machine” (487).
Though extremist-sounding at first, this plays out in more subtle ways than one might think: the American education system, for instance (especially private and higher education) can be likened to funnels into structured pathways that work to serve society or economy (often both, for the exchange of “private” rewards like housing, material goods, and overall stability). If this is not a version of training to facilitate a machine, what else? If higher and private education’s expensive prices were proportionate to the value being gained through the transaction of getting one’s diploma, there would not be such a pressing student loan crisis. Lastly, the notorious pay gaps between the deans of universities and their actual professors illustrates the same issue: where only a wealthy minority benefit from this capitalistic, representative government. Even the “eternal truths…religion…and all morality” some claim are in danger under communism have already been appropriated by capitalism—further necessitating the overthrow of “all existing social conditions” through revolution (489). Communism, though admittedly violent in its exposition, proves that only radical change can abolish the exploitative violence of systemic power. Vaguely Hobbesian in his view of achieving personal liberty through collective welfare, Marx demonstrates how both historical and long-term welfare calls for communism. Representative government under capitalism, in its partiality towards a wealthy, powerful minority, actually recreates the “deadly pretexts for more than one kind of tyranny” Constant initially accuses of Rousseau (Constant 7).
Nonetheless, criticism of Marx uncovers a contradiction: if his philosophies are as “scientific” as he maintains, and history follows an inevitable path of class conflict and resolution, why does a communist spirit need to be ignited with Marx’s words? Modern communism is different from previous coups in history due to its “fetters” — myriad distractions proliferated by the industrial revolution, alienates workers from the
means of production and also induces isolation amongst the impoverished, a dissolution of collective willpower and sense of community (Marx 478). Constant cites capitalism as the only system under which modern humans will remain obedient: think of “retail therapy,” the vast consumers of unethical products and cheap labour (fast fashion, Amazon), or the dog-eat-dog mindset instilled into so many business school curricula. Immediate gratification and the promise of prosperity outweighs higher morality, and capitalism has systematically made this compelling. “Power threatens and wealth rewards,” Constant himself emphasises; “you elude power by deceiving it, but to obtain the favours of wealth you have to serve it; so wealth is bound to win” (Constant 12). This servitude and compliance appears in meritocracies—the American Dream fed to hungry immigrants who spent their lives chasing the promise of economic gains in exchange for wage-labour.
The erasure of the impoverished in Constant’s text is his argument’s fatal flaw: the overwhelming majority are not wealthy in a capitalistic society, making Constant’s idea of liberty an illusory one. “Private property is already done away with for nine-tenths of the population,” and the condition for property itself is “the non-existence of any property for the immense majority of society” (Marx 486). Meanwhile, the exploitative conditions of labour are touted as “property alleged to be the groundwork of all personal freedom, activity, and independence” (484). The class paralysis induced by capitalist propaganda, then, is what demands Marx’s rousing of class consciousness. Capitalism is inherently a system that divides: civil or interracial conflict within marginalised communities
are the product of a meritocracy working to pit its members against one another; when economic gains are the sole focus we desecrate all other relations for it. Communism, in its ability to break down class and racial divides, is therefore the most “advanced and resolute” movement to mobilise the masses—the very “grave-diggers” produced from bourgeois hubris (483-484).
Upon examining the dichotomy between Constant and Marx’s governments in response to modernity, the incompatibility of representative government with shifting social attitudes becomes apparent. Historical changes have transformed both societal values and the efficacy of governing systems, culminating in tumultuous tensions roiling before our very eyes. The illusory rewards presented by mass commercialisation, the contradictions of a representative government that serves capitalism, and the inevitability of revolution all work to demonstrate that Constant’s modern conditions may seek representative government, but fueling modernity’s capitalistic desires will only jeopardise the long-term welfare of any society—thus, the need for communism arises in modernity more than ever. A good society in Constant’s eyes may be one removed from political life, albeit maintaining a semblance of control through individual—commercial—freedom, while a Marx’s is one free from private ownership and bourgeois property relations. While the latter is certainly the more daunting answer, the realisation that capitalism already pervades all aspects of our lives makes this dissolution of the status quo a necessity rather than pure ideology. Ultimately, capitalism and its self-destructive systems are all communism needs to take root—with “nothing to lose but [our] chains.”
Works Cited
Constant, Benjamin. “The Liberty of the Ancients Compared with that of the Moderns,” edited by Jonathan Bennett, 2010.
Hardy, Breanna. “Etsy Sellers Getting Squeezed By ‘Amazon Effect,’” The Business Journal, June 8 2022, https://thebusinessjournal.com/etsy-sellers-getting-squeezed-by-amazon-effect/.
Katje, Chris. “Conflict of Interest? Congress Members Who Own META, GOOG, SNAP Shares Could Benefit From TikTok Ban,” Business Insider, March 27 2023, https://www.benzinga.com/news/23/03/31521439/conflict-of-interest-congress-members-who-own-meta-goog-snap-shares-could-benefit-from-tiktok-ban.
Kolbert, Elizabeth. “Why Did The Biden Administration Approve The Willow Project?” The New Yorker, March 13 2023, https://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/why-did-the-biden-administration-approve-the-willow-project.
Marx, Karl. Manifesto of the Communist Party, edited by Robert C. Tucker, W.W. Norton & Company, 1872.