Critical Theory and the Traditions of Historical Others

I developed these ideas further in a related paper called “The Politics of Recognition and the Frankfurt School.”

Introduction

This paper takes up the theme of the relation between those articulating critique (theorists/scholars) and those suffering injustice (common agents). What should this relationship look like when both parties share common interests in the critique of society and in establishing the conditions for action? This paper is motivated by my discontent with how critical theory in particular deals with the “traditions of historical others.” This concern has been addressed by significant recent works in critical theory in the wake of movements for decolonization.¹ Yet the overarching question remains: to what extent can critical theory construct a productive relationship with asymmetrically empowered moral and intellectual traditions?

To relate this approach to critical theory, I draw on the work of David Scott. I begin this essay by spelling out his critique and its relationship with critical theory — here understood as the tradition inaugurated by Max Horkheimer in his essay “Traditional and Critical Theory.” I indicate the ways in which Horkheimer’s construction of critical theory is susceptible to Scott’s line of critique. I then introduce other theorists who build on Horkheimer while providing us with additional resources to address Scott’s critique. I use the initial framing provided by the juxtaposition of Horkheimer and Scott to assess in turn the works of Adolfo Sánchez Vázquez, Pierre Bourdieu, and Nancy Fraser. I conclude by gesturing towards what these thinkers might offer us in response to Scott’s critique.

David Scott

David Scott’s essay “The Traditions of Historical Others” was prepared for a symposium on Thomas McCarthy’s 2009 book Race, Empire, and the Idea of Human Development. Scott does not take up the “substantive areas of disagreement concerning liberalism and development” that make up most of McCarthy’s work.² Rather, Scott argues that “what may at first sight seem an innocuous formulation” of “methodological first principles” by McCarthy “exemplifies a mode of philosophic investigation that presupposes the basic sufficiency of its own moral-intellectual resources, the generosity and respectful tolerance of its attitude toward historical others” (2). Scott’s critique is directed primarily at the “mode of philosophical investigation” McCarthy partakes of, i.e. critical theory. Thus, Scott’s remarks, though importantly prompted by McCarthy’s work, are equally applicable to other authors in the tradition, such as Jürgen Habermas, Max Horkheimer, and Nancy Fraser. McCarthy’s work prompts Scott to ask broader questions of critical theory: “how receptive is this generosity? How responsive is it to receiving as distinct from giving? Does it open itself to criticism only so as to strengthen its basic position? How dialogical is its ethical stance?” (2)

According to Scott, critical theory shares a basic interest in some form of equal participation of common agents and historical others. At the same time, critical theory presumes that it has the method whereby it may engage in such a dialogue with others so as to construct a set of normative resources. Whether in the form of Habermas’ discourse theory, Honneth’s normative reconstruction, or Nancy Fraser’s parity of participation, critical theory shares a presupposition in “the basic sufficiency of its own moral-intellectual resources” as a “mode of philosophical investigation” that can be tolerant and receptive to “historical others.” It is this basic assumption of self-sufficiency that David Scott takes aim at, suggesting that it renders critical theory less than fully dialogical. Scott thinks that

receptive generosity … entails, on the one hand, unlearning the presumptive privilege of one’s own moral-intellectual traditions, and on the other, learning something of the internal composition of questions and answers through which the relevant traditions of others have been historically shaped. (3)

To generate normative resources that are of value to those marginalized by society means receiving from them, too. The “recognition” critical theory so far has advocated is not sufficient, in Scott’s view. It amounts to just assimilation. Critical theory must learn “to think inside of the moral languages of their historical others, rather than merely seeking to assimilate them” (6). As I have indicated, both Scott’s concerns and his points of critique are applicable to critical theory in general, not just McCarthy’s work. In the remainder of this essay, I use this framing to read key works in critical theory.

Horkheimer

How does Max Horkheimer’s work relate to Scott’s critique? Horkheimer writes that the human sciences imitate “the more prosperous natural sciences whose practical value is beyond question” by combining empirical fact-finding with armchair theorizing.³ In traditional theory, this activity is presented as detached and autonomous from society, even though it is part of it. Thus, traditional theory presents itself as guided by an inner logic. But theory does “not derive from purely logical or methodological sources but can rather be understood only in the context of real social processes” (194). Thus, Horkheimer says, the labor of theorizing is in fact undertaken by historically and socially situated subjects. Indeed, the very fact that there exists a class of people whose task it is to theorize rests on the division of labor; as Horkheimer writes, theory “corresponds to the activity of the scholar which takes place alongside all the other activities of a society but in no immediately clear connection with them” (197). Indeed, the fact that theory seems to be free “corresponds to the seeming freedom of the economic subject in bourgeois society” (197).

Horkheimer up to this point is describing the relation between common agents and theorists. What should that relationship look like, though? That, for Horkheimer, is the question of what critical theory should be. At the core of this conception is reflexivity: a critical theory is a theory that is able to give an account of its own function in society. Furthermore, critical theory recognizes the social constitution of any theory, because it sees that “even the way they [sc. men] see and hear is inseparable from the social life-process as it has evolved over the millennia” (200). Recognizing the social function of science is at the same time a critique of society. Horkheimer writes that the evolution of society is “not simply natural”; it “has either been founded directly on oppression or been the blind outcome of conflicting forces, but in any event not the result of conscious spontaneity on the part of free individuals” (200). However, Horkheimer does not dismiss traditional theory. He thinks scientific knowledge is useful and worth pursuing. The distinctive status of critical theory arises from its reflexivity. Critical theory is traditional theory plus a distinctive perspective on the act of theorizing as a social practice, undertaken from a perspective in society.⁴

At this point, we may pause to pursue Scott’s points of critique. Similar questions can be addressed to Horkheimer: how receptive is the critical theory he articulates? Is it open to criticism only to strengthen its own position? Is its ethical stance dialogical? Horkheimer’s critical theory is, in my view, monological. Its drive to reflexivity pushes it to recognize its social function in society. To this extent, it does care about power relations and dialogue with marginalized groups. But this “dialogue” does not affect the content of its theory. One can imagine a scientist pursuing traditional theory, and then realizing that their activity is facilitated by the division of labor in capitalism that ensures they are “free” from material want and able to pursue scientific research. Yet, after recognizing this fact, the substance of the theory need not change. Recognition of a theory’s social function is sufficient to make it critical.

Critical theory notices the asymmetrical power relations and then marches to its own beat; at best, it assimilates the facts about society into its new theory, which critiques the existing order. It fails to engage in a really theoretical dialogue with other intellectual traditions. Nonetheless, Horkheimer outlines the reflexivity of theory, which is an important step on the path to dialogicality. Although a critical theory may have “no specific influence on its side,” it does have a specific aim: “concern for the abolition of social injustice” (200). This concern is at least the start for a push towards receptive dialogue.

Sánchez Vásquez

Does Adolfo Sánchez Vázquez improve on Horkheimer’s approach? Sánchez Vázquez outlines a similar understanding of theory. In his case, theory is framed in terms of praxis, which is for Vázquez “a theoretico-practical activity.”⁵ Thus, like Horkheimer, Sánchez Vázquez emphasizes that philosophizing has to be done “in proximity to praxis”: practice needs theory, and theory needs to be realizable. Also like Horkheimer, Vázquez is elaborating a largely Marxist view of theory, in which theory must be understood with reference to the shifting modes of production. Vázquez’s contribution is to note that this theory in turn generates a new form of praxis, so that neither can be fully understood without the other. This means that theory necessarily takes into account the practices of common agents; but the way in which theory learns from common agents is not a reciprocal dialogue. Instead, “practice provides an inexhaustible source of reference for theory.”⁶ Theory and praxis are intimately connected, but are both driven by a common motor.

Bourdieu

Bourdieu gives us a stronger theoretical basis for understanding the deep influence of “traditions of historical others.” Bourdieu’s core concept, habitus, describes basically a disposition of the subject: because of the sedimentation of practices, the subject is inclined to do something in a certain way and not another.⁷ Like for Horkheimer and Sánchez Vásquez, Bourdieu is driven by the basic belief that ordinary people are really quite intelligent; we just need to clarify what precisely they’re saying. My contention is that Bourdieu provides better resources for capturing the texture of the traditions of historical others. To use Scott’s words, habitus enables critical theorists to better “grasp something of the internal texture and hermeneutic preoccupations and perspectives of one’s historical others.”⁸ It is thus more apt for facilitating a genuinely dialogical practice of theory-making.

One way of understanding what Bourdieu is doing is by reference to anthropology. Bourdieu developed the idea of habitus through his ethnography during the Algerian war of independence.⁹ Thus, Bourdieu’s own theoretical practice emerges through a sort of dialogue of a philosopher with the traditions of historical others, namely the Kabyle people of the Atlas mountains. For Bourdieu, the practices of people who are historically “others” are incorporated into theoretical work in a more rich, nuanced way than for either Horkheimer or Sánchez Vásquez. In his ethnography, and particularly in the work of describing habitus, Bourdieu undertakes some of the “labor of learning how to read from within another tradition to determine what these [traditions] are as moral and cognitive languages, and what sort of platform of translation and exchange needs to be constructed in order to effect a receptive dialogue with them.”¹⁰ Nonetheless, Bourdieu’s main intervention is methodological; he cares about habitus and dialogical engagement insofar as they present better tools for the social scientist to do their work as scientists. The imperative for dialogue is not basically ethical.

Fraser

Nancy Fraser, on the other hand, underlines the moral imperative that underlies her methodological intervention. She makes an explicit methodological claim that a political theorist must be dialogical, not monological. This is in turn based on her fundamental principle, the “parity of participation” — between, for instance, common agents and theorists/scholars. After sketching the historical situatedness of the theorist today in the postwar Keynesian–Westphalian order, Fraser inquires into the possibility of shifting “frames” — that is, the “grammars” in which claims of justice are articulated.¹¹ As Fraser puts it, “the result is a set of sustained reflections on who should count with respect to what in a postwestphalian world.”¹²

Fraser couches both of these shifts in a basic insistence on democratic dialogue, which she calls “parity of participation.” This matters as much for substantive theories of justice as it does for the political theorists themselves. She positions herself against “monological” theories of justice, and “monological” theorizing. I think this is in many ways what undergirds David Scott’s critique, too. He is basically interested in democratic participation from top to bottom, from theorizing to social claims of justice. So where does Fraser fall short? She does not and cannot approach the traditions of historical others as intellectual traditions worth actually learning from. On the substantive side, I do think she is very willing to recognize contestation by plural political actors. But on the metatheoretical side, she does not follow through on the implications of her claims about “parity of participation.” This is what David Scott helps us to see: if you as a critical theorist insist on a dialogical relationship between critical theorist and common agents, that means your act of theorizing needs to change too.

Conclusion

How should critical theory change to engage in a more receptive dialogue with the traditions of historical others? This is a version of the question with which I began this paper, which David Scott has helpfully clarified and articulated. Horkheimer’s call for reflexivity was a first step in the right direction. But it failed to deal with other traditions as distinctive modes of engagement with the world. Instead, critical theory assimilated these other modes of engagement into its own (unrepentantly Marxist) theoretical project. Sánchez Vásquez, Bourdieu, and Fraser all continued this project in different ways. But I have also argued that these other theorists gave us tools with which we can perhaps begin to address some of Scott’s concerns. Bourdieu’s habitus is one of the tools that enables a more thick description of the different worlds of historical others, allowing us to understand that other moral and intellectual traditions “embody archives of formative debates, canons of interpretive practices, and interconnected styles of reasoning; they embody agonistically organized structures of authority, horizons of expectation, and animating memories — and these together help to shape a distinctive ethos and a distinctive way of inhabiting, comprehending, and engaging the historical world.”¹³ Engaging in ethnographic work like Bourdieu’s might help postpone the assimilation of traditions of historical others into a univocal theoretical framework. Fraser, on the other hand, insisted on “parity of participation” as the foundational principle of political theory. This is a powerful moral imperative that, in my view, amplifies Scott’s call for a genuine “receptive dialogue.” My argument has been that to fully realize such democratic participation of diverse interlocutors requires bringing together precisely the sort of tools Bourdieu gave us, to more richly understand the plurality of perspectives, with the commitment to democratic participation Fraser articulates. The future of critical theory thus lies in a conversation with a radically expanded set of interlocutors in a generous, hospitable, and reciprocal mode of engagement.

See, for instance, Amy Allen, The End of Progress: Decolonizing the Normative Foundations of Critical Theory (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016); Thomas McCarthy, Race, Empire, and the Idea of Human Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009).
David Scott, “The Traditions of Historical Others,” Symposia on Gender, Race and Philosophy 8, no. 1 (Winter 2012): 2. Following parenthetical citations are to this text.
Max Horkheimer, “Traditional and Critical Theory,” in Critical Theory: Selected Essays, ed. Stanley Aronowitz, trans. Matthew J. O’Connell (New York: Continuum, 1982), 194. Following parenthetical citations are to this text.
As far as the content of critical theory is concerned, it seems to come quite close to Marxist political economy. Horkheimer writes: “Critical theory does not have one doctrinal substance today, another tomorrow. … The stability of the theory is due to the fact that amid all change in society the basic economic structure, the class relationship in its simplest form, and therefore the idea of the supersression [sic] of these two remain identical. The decisive substantive elements in the theory are conditioned by these unchanging factors and they themselves therefore cannot change until there has been a historical transformation of society.” Ibid., 234.
Adolfo Sánchez Vázquez, The Philosophy of Praxis, trans. Mike Gonzalez (London: Merlin Press, 1977), 193.
Ibid., 183.
Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, trans. Richard Nice (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2008).
Scott, “The Traditions of Historical Others,” 4.
For an abundance of detail, see Jane E. Goodman and Paul A. Silverstein, eds., Bourdieu in Algeria: Colonial Politics, Ethnographic Practices, Theoretical Developments (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2009).
Scott, “The Traditions of Historical Others,” 7.
Nancy Fraser, “Reframing Justice in a Globalizing World,” New Left Review 36 (December 2005): 69–88.
Nancy Fraser, Scales of Justice: Reimagining Political Space in a Globalizing World (Malden, MA: Polity Press, 2008), 6. Chapter 2 of this book is based on the previously cited article.
Scott, “The Traditions of Historical Others,” 7.