Socialism and the Social Movement in the 19th Century

by Werner Sombart

Of far-reaching importance, and at this moment of pressing interest, are two points which I would present in conclusion. I mean the attitude of the social movement towards religion and towards nationality. Because here personal feeling and temperament may easily interfere with the clear vision of the observer, it is doubly necessary to divest oneself of all passion and to deal with these problems objectively. Let us make the attempt. Leaving out of consideration the English working-man, who to-day, as a generation ago, seems to oscillate between pietism and positivism, and who on this point cannot be considered typical because of the well-known peculiar conditions of his development, the proletarian movement doubtless is strongly anti-religious. How comes this?

So far as I see, the opposition to religion comes from two different sources: it has a "theoretical" and a "practical" origin. Theoretically the proletariat and its leaders have become heirs of the liberal "age of illumination." Out of a superficial study of natural sciences have sprung all these anti-religious writings of the years 1860-1880 which in an intoxication of joy announced the first recognition of the atheistic dogma to the world. These writers never rose above the level of "itinerant preachers of materialism," and they have never reached to the level of the Marx-Engels conception of life. The platform of this dogmatic atheism may be considered to-day as entirely something of the past. There is no earnest representative of science anywhere who to-day dares to assert that science means atheism and excludes religion. Thus the attitude of the proletariat towards religion would be entirely free and independent if the ground of its irreligion were merely a theoretic and misleading incursion into the dogmatism of natural science. But the enmity to religion has much deeper grounds. Not only has an enthusiasm for scientific materialism taken hold of the proletariat with special force; but also the enthusiasm for unbelief has been helped greatly in its development by the instinctive feeling, or the clear consciousness, that in the materialistic conception of the world lies the germ of a mighty revolutionary force, well suited to drive authority from all spheres of life. What wonder that the proletariat took hold of it as a useful weapon for the strife; for, as we know, one of the conditions of the very existence of the proletariat lies in a tearing asunder of all the old points of faith. Thus the predilection for materialism and atheism is well explained.

And now consider that the acceptance of this dogma betokens a protest against the Christian system of thought, which the working man must look upon as inimical because represented by the ruling classes and used in their interests. For there can be no doubt that, in an overwhelming majority of cases, official Christianity has been used by the ruling classes against the movement for the emancipation of the proletariat. The fate that falls upon heretical Christians is the best proof of this. So long as men try to support monarchy and capitalism as a necessary and Divine institution, using the Christian Church for this purpose, the social movement must become anti-ecclesiastical and thus anti-religious. Thus a mistrust as to the position, in the social struggle, of the official representatives of the Church estranges the proletariat from this Church and thus from religion. In the moment that this mistrust is removed—and you all know that the new Christian-socialists, especially in Germany, have taken this as their task,—in the moment when Christianity is presented either as unpartisan in its social influence, as Goehre preaches it, or as directly social-democratic, as Naumann presents it,—in that moment, so far as I see, there will be no reason why the proletariat should maintain an anti-religious character.

In saying this, of course, I assume that religion is adapted to the needs of the proletariat. Whether or not Christianity possesses this adaptability, I do not dare to say. But that it is thus adapted would seem to be indicated by the fact that it became the religion of Rome in its decadence and of the German tribes in the youthful freshness of their civilisation, of feudalism as well as of those stages of civilisation in which the free cities and later the bourgeoisie have had predominance. Then why may it not also be the religion of the proletariat? But it must be presented to the lower classes with all of the joy of life of which Christianity is capable. For the element of asceticism in Christianity pleases little these classes, which press towards air and light and which do not show any inclination to allow the good things of life to be taken from them.

As if overhung with thick clouds of passion, appears now the question as to the attitude of the social movement towards nationality. A great part of the heated discussion on this point, as it seems to me, is due to lack of clearness in thought. It is not so much our German language, as it is our German instinct, that distinguishes between two ideas, rightly but not always sharply separated; we are accustomed to specify them as patriotism and nationalism.

Patriotism, the love of the Fatherland, is indeed a feeling that unconsciously and without effort is held fast in our hearts, and exists therein like love of home and of family. It is an aggregation of impressions, of memories, over which we have no control. It is that indefinable power exercised upon our souls by the sound of the mother tongue, by the harmony of the national song, by many peculiar customs and usages, by the whole history and poetry of the home land. It is that feeling which comes to its fulness only in a strange land, and presses as truly upon the soul of the exiled revolutionist as upon that of the peaceful citizen. I cannot see why this should be the heritage of a particular class. It is a foolish idea that such a feeling may, or can, die out in the great masses of men, so long as there are lands and peoples with their own languages and songs.

Quite different is nationalism—the intelligent presentation, if I may so express it, of national opinion, especially in opposition and enmity to other nations. The modern proletariat does not simply refuse to share this feeling; it actually fights against it.

Here again we meet the same fact that we observed before in connection with the attitude of the proletariat towards religion; they identify the idea of "nationalism" with the ruling classes, and as enemies of the representatives of the idea they turn their hatred against the idea itself. Especially is this so because, in many lands, it is not made easy for the rising working-men's movement to identify itself with the official representatives of the nation; hate, persecution, repression, are not suitable means to arouse pride in that national structure in which the working men must live together with those from whom all this evil proceeds. At the same time a friendly hand is reached over the national boundary-line by the proletariat of a strange and unfriendly land, by companions in suffering, with similar interests and efforts. Truly it is no wonder that the modern proletariat generally becomes imbued with an anti-national, an international, tendency.

But I hold it to be quite wrong to justify an anti-national theory by this impulsive anti-nationalism. I see in the essence of modern socialism no reason for such an idea. I have explicitly pointed out to you the tendency towards an international understanding and unity on the part of the proletariat. But that is only an artificial abolition of national barriers. Only one who chases after the phantom of a world republic will be able to imagine a social development outside of national limitations. A man will hardly venture to prophesy with certainty, even for only a short time, as to when the social contradictions within a nation shall rival those points of difference at present existing between nations. But it must be clear even to the short-sighted that, so far as we can see, an energetic upholding of national interests can never be entirely unnecessary.

Even if in Western Europe the differences between nations should be so far obviated that only social questions remain in the field, I believe that we could never assume that this Western European civilisation can pursue its course undisturbed and without the admixture of other elements. We must never forget that, as a result of modern means of communication, not only Russian civilisation threatens that of Western Europe, but even the Asiatic more and more strongly presses upon us. The development in Asia which we have seen in the course of the last decade, the rapid advancement of Japan, and now the attempt of China to enter civilisation in order to nibble at the fruits of commerce and to grow out of its narrow circle—this development will doubtless take a course which must of necessity lead to new international complications. I believe that the moment will come when European society as a whole will say to itself: All our mutual differences are of no importance as compared with that which threatens us from this enemy. As an indication of this see the attitude of America towards Asiatic development. There is a case in which the "internationalism" of the proletariat is simply thrown aside; and this would be the case also among the proletariat of Western Europe, if the coolies should begin to swarm over us like rats. An artificial sympathy with the most downtrodden people would prove too weak to restrain a sound national self-interest. So soon as a common enemy threatens the existence of a society it becomes again conscious of its economic interests and rallies to their support; and in the meantime its internal differences are forgotten.