Kitabı oku: «Civl society»
Wolfgang Mazal / Bettina Rausch
Civil Society Today
Principles and Political Potential
edition noir
Disclaimer:
This is a joint publication of the Wilfried Martens Centre for European Studies and the Political Academy of the Austrian People ´s Party. This publication receives funding from the European Parliament. The Wilfried Martens Centre for European Studies, the Political Academy of the Austrian People ´s Party, and the European Parliament assume no responsibility for facts or opinions expressed in this publication or any subsequent use of the information contained therein. Sole responsibility lies on the authors of the publication.
Reviewed by: Sandra Pasarić, WMCES (Brussels, Belgium) & Christian Moser-Sollmann, PA (Vienna, Austria)


edition noir
Imprint:
© 2021 Verlag noir, Vienna
Verlag noir, 1120 Wien, Tivoligasse 73
Editor: Christian Moser-Sollmann, Felix Ofner, Roman Schachenhofer, Lorenz Jahn
Art Direction: B. Könighofer
Translation: Robert McInnes
ISBN: 979-3-9504939-3-1
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Foreword
I. Fundamentals and theory of the civil society
From the Community of Citizens to the Civil Society Political Participation in Antiquity and Modern Times
Simon Varga
The Civil Society and the Bourgeoisie
Ernst Bruckmüller
Fundamental Principles of the Civil Society Which Trends Do We Need to Protect Ourselves Against?
Werner J. Patzelt
The Phenomenology of the Civil Society
Manfred Prisching
The Civil Society – A (neo-?) Liberal Project
Alexander Bogner
The Civil Society – Cure-All for Democracy or Just a Sweet Dream? A Plea for a Regulatory Policy for the Commitment Society
Michael Borchard
The Civil Society between the Poles of Security and Freedom
Peter Kampits
Missing: Bridge Builders – Considerations on the Polarisation of Western Societies and How This Can Be Overcome
Benjamin Hasselhorn
Participation, Codetermination, Moralisation: How Social Movements Have Changed
Christian Moser-Sollmann
The Sensitive “I” Thoughts on an Insecure Society Between Digitalisation and Hyper-Individualisation
Johannes Domsich
The State and the Civil Society – or the Citizen Society? Casting a Glance at Light and Shade
Till Kinzel
A Community of Free and Responsible People
Bettina Rausch
The Civil Society and Artificial Intelligence – Trends and Challenges for Dealing with AI in the European Union
Julia Juen / Verena Ringler
II. Civil virtues – case studies
Civil Society: Key Activities of the Political Academy
The Social Contract in Change
Michael Borchard / Ulrike Ackermann / Andreas Jankor
The “New Civil Society”: A State that Gives its Citizens Space to Breathe
Werner J. Patzelt / Günther Lutschinger
A Civil Society in Europe? Strong Impulses from the Regions Europe and Society Start at Home – on the Effective Power of Applied, Initiated Formats of Encounter and Dialogue in the Regional, as well as Cross-border, Context
Verena Ringler / Magdalena J. Schneider
Make Austria Flourish! The Role and Potential of Active Charitable Foundations for Society and the State
Ruth Williams / Christoph Robinson
“Cooperative?” “Nobody will come!” On the Rediscovery of an Often-Underestimated Legislation and Organisational Form
Justus Reichl
Social Entrepreneurship: Attempt at a Classification within the Civil Society
Elisabeth Mayerhofer
The Civil Society – the Family as a Learning Environment
Wolfgang Mazal
A Person with Courage Inspires Courage The Example of Kolping Austria
Christine Leopold
The Protection of Life in the Civil Society
Martina Kronthaler
Lived Civil Society Needs More Trust! On the Connection Between Civil-Society Commitment, Social Welfare, and Community Service as Reflected in Regulatory Policy
Elisabeth Anselm
Emmaus – From Paris to St. Pölten Social Work Concerns Us All
Karl Langer
Authors
Foreword
In addition to the separation of powers and the liberal constitutional state, active citizens who help fashion the community are central pillars of our democracy. In this respect, citizens are not only the addressees of the state’s rules and norms, but also co-creators of precisely those norms. And, the community in a liberal state is more than government order; it is the interaction between people and their relationships to each other – in families and friendships, at work, and in organisations.
Active participation in the personal and public environment enriches many different facets of human life and, in doing so, makes our society more diverse and colourful. There can be no question that humans are political and social beings, and that their individuality can only fully develop within a community.
We find many different answers to how we want to organise our community, and our society, in democracies of the Western kind. Broadly speaking, the following differentiations can be made: Politics that are typically located on the left define themselves principally by way of the paternalistic state that monitors all spheres of life, and plans and regulates the way lives are led down to the smallest detail. In our eyes, although conservative politics relies on the state to set general parameters, it places individual freedom and responsibility at the core. It trusts the intrinsic drive in each and every citizen to want to make a contribution to a functioning community according to their abilities. This is the fundamental idea of the political concept of a “civil society” as a community of free and responsible people.
The Political Academy of the People’s Party and the Wilfried Martens Centre for European Studies have extensively discussed and studied just how varied and heterogeneous the concepts of the civil society are in theory and practice in its current focus of research.
The essential basis for this can be found in the image of man rooted in the Judeo-Christian-Greco-Roman tradition concept of humankind with the dignity of the individual person as its foundation. However, this also includes the obligation of actively making use of one’s abilities to benefit society, as expressed in the parable of the talents in the Bible. Or, to use Immanuel Kant’s words: “Man has an individual imperfect obligation – namely, that of developing one’s own talents – for oneself, as well as for others.”
In this publication, we requested that highly-respected scientists, publicists, and practicians give their fundamental thoughts on the potential and possibilities of the civil society in the 21st century.
Theoretical, historical, and philosophical contributions can be found here, as well as various case studies from practice. The diversity and pluralism of ideas of the contributions make it clear that the permanent voice and participation of an active public can enrich the political discourse and policy formulation of our country.
Wolfgang Mazal Bettina Rausch

From the Community of Citizens to the Civil Society
Political Participation in Antiquity and Modern Times
Simon Varga
Summary: This contribution focuses on the differences and evolution from the ancient community of citizens to the modern civil society. The question about the necessity and significance of political participation in antiquity and modern times forms the central point of this study. From the present socio-political perspective, it can be seen that the core of today’s civil society still incorporates a large section of the community of citizens. In the final analysis, this awareness calls for community-political empathy – understood as civil rights and obligations.
Introduction
At first sight, linking antiquity and the present day in political affairs might awaken suspicions of anachronism, especially seeing that political practice has already undergone many metamorphoses over the course of history, and will obviously also experience even more changes in the future. However, at second sight, a project of this kind seems to be not only historically, but also systematically, logical. Already present in the early stages of Greek political thought in its classical tradition, a question – that is still unavoidable for life in a union or community and that many modern states still struggle with – was asked and attempted to be answered, in theory and practice: that of the level and significance of the political participation of the individual in the political community.
Although it is not possible to provide a comprehensive portrayal of the many historical developments leading from the community of citizens of ancient times to today’s civil society in all its nuances, even sketching these developments leads to the – in no way surprising – conclusion that, then and now, citizen participation was and is an essential necessity for the organisation of political coexistence – and will continue to be so. However, as already indicated, this is something of a truism. The two central questions deal much more with the intensity of political participation the citizens can demand and where the fundamental differences between the ancient community of citizens and modern civil society can actually be discerned.
This essay begins with a brief depiction of the immediate ancient political practice of the so-called community of citizens, connected with a historical-political overview of political life in the classical Greek period (1). This was followed by a change in the political theory of antiquity. In it, the fundamentals of the politico-anthropological philosophy of Aristotle and his concept of political participation in the course of the “best imaginable state” developed by him are discussed (2). The transformation from the ancient community of citizens to the modern civil society – especially based on sociological observations – will, at least, be touched on in the next step (3). Taking the current global socio-political developments into consideration, the next section handles the current importance of the civil society that, in my opinion, can still be regarded to a large degree as a community of citizens – and maybe even increasingly so – without questioning the modern developments and achievements such as human rights, democracy, and civil liberties in any way (4). Finally, the last point leads to an investigation of the foundation of community policy empathy as a civic right and duty (5).
1. Ancient political practice: Organisation, participation, and dichotomy
There can be no doubt that ancient Greece occupies an important place in connection with the development and fundamental understanding of the political in Europe and even beyond its borders. This pertains particularly to the so-called Greek classical period beginning with the military conflicts between the Greeks and the Persians to the coronation of the soon-to-be Macedonian King Alexander the Great – the time from around 500 to 336 BC. In this classical period, the Greek city states (Old Greek: polis (sing.); poleis (pl.)), including Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, achieved their uniquely great historical, political, and cultural importance of global significance, which would have been impossible in this fashion without the political organisation of the polis. And that occured – surprising as it may seem – in spite of many internal political conflicts within the city states themselves, as well as those among the city states, and external military threats from other regions of the Mediterranean.
In the classical period, there were likely more than 800 settlements that could be classified as a polis; their physical appearance differed greatly although, “in principle, the inner structure of the settlement space was the same.”1 This usually consisted of an urban centre with a political, economic, and cultural infrastructure with the economic and/or political agora, the meeting place for trade and politics in the centre, bordering on administration and cult buildings, as well as the land surrounding the urban centre that was necessary for agricultural purposes. For example, all of Attica belonged to the polis of Athens and citizens living anywhere in Attica referred to themselves as Athenians even if they lived in a village far away from the main city itself.2 It seems that Athens, the most influential polis, had a population of between 200,000 and 300,000 during the classical period with the majority of the inhabitants living in rural areas.3
The ideal of the “political self-administration and government by the citizens and striving for internal and external independence” was a characteristic of the political self-image of the city states.4 This shows that the goals of political autarchy and autonomy, which were inseparable from the striving for permanent economic stability to be able to provide the citizens with the goods that were necessary and desirable for life at the time, stood at the forefront of the endeavours of the city states. This suggests that there was active economic exchange among many city states. However, most poleis had their own army, their own legal system as well as their own calendar, and different priorities were even set in connection with the mythical cult within the individual city states.
The political self-image of the ancient city state of the classical era was founded on two historical-categorical facts of political practice (and, to a large extent, also of political theory) that have to be dealt with in any examination of the subject of political participation in antiquity: the division of the polis into free and unfree people as well as the paradigm of the free (male) citizen within the polis. In spite of “the great variety of social and state manifestations in ancient Greece”, the separation into free and unfree must be considered “a fundamental characteristic of any ancient political system”,5 and the same also applies to the limitation of civic rights and duties to the free (male) citizens of the polis.
From the political perspective, the differentiation between free and unfree was an everyday normality, a common political practice. The citizen was usually considered free and could lay claim to a number of civic rights for himself: political participation, acquisition of property, etc. However, these rights usually went hand in hand with duties: military service, political participation in accordance with the valid laws, the obligation to accept a public office, accompanied by the obligation to fulfil public offices to the benefit of the polis for a specific period, etc. On the other hand, those who were considered unfree, especially slaves in the so-called “state of unfreedom”, were granted no personal and political rights. But there were social differences among the unfree members of society, and the spectrum of the different activities and obligations was rather large. On the one hand, there were state slaves (official servants, watchmen, and labourers). On the other hand, there were house slaves, maids and manservants, who carried out a number of duties in the oikos (the household or family property) where they worked as kitchen help, tutors, nannies, family physicians, etc. Women and children also had absolutely no political rights, although the woman’s position varied from polis to polis. The rights – or, more precisely, lack of rights – of guests (the metics) and foreigners (the xenoi) were also defined differently in the laws of the individual city states.
In connection with the classical Greek era, it is necessary to bear the following in mind:6 (i) The dichotomy of the differentiation between “free” and “unfree” was a fact that was socio-politically accepted and unquestioned to a large degree in political practice even though there were occasional discussions about the (possible) justification for this separation in literature and philosophy. (ii) The differentiation between “free” and “unfree”, the designation of the “free citizen” in contrast to the “unfree slave”, not only reflected a formal legal status but also implied an ancient political self-awareness. It is already possible to identify this trace in the works of Aeschylus where the Athenians – after the Persians had asked them for the name of the ruler over the Athenians – were described as free citizens, the slaves of no master, and nobody’s subject.7 (iii) On the “unfree” side, the slaves worked in a number of areas and relationships, some of them confidential, which did not change the existing legal status in any way except that of the master’s claim of ownership. (iv) Slaves were defenseless to human trafficking; they were regarded as goods, as possessions, and as tools. (v) Unfree (men, women, and children) were not only expropriated legally and politically, but also – from the anthropological-philosophical perspective – in a worse position and seen in a different way than free people.
2. Ancient political theory: Anthropology and participation in the best state
The thoughts of Aristotle form an indispensable – and, in almost all respects, important –component of ancient classical political philosophy. At the same time, he continued to cling to a fundamental differentiation between the free and unfree. In developing and presenting his practical philosophy, he nevertheless deals, in an astute and cautious manner, with the “philosophy of human affairs”,8 which is an inseparable symbiosis of ethics and politics as well as a concrete political anthropology, a political image of man in the broader sense,9 which has received a great deal of approval but also criticism in the course of the history of philosophy and political thought. The central pillars of this political anthropology will be depicted by way of three short points:
(i) In his Politics, Aristotle determines that man is a being that lives a political life by nature; in Old Greek, zôon politikon. However, according to Aristotle, this definition of man as a political being is not actually a unique feature of humans, seeing that, in his eyes, bees and other animals (such as ants, for example) also led their lives in a political manner.10 Aristotle’s definition of man as a zôon politikon is therefore, first and foremost, a biological view that applies to man and his nature – but not exclusively.
(ii) Only Aristotle’s second politico-anthropological definition describes man in a special manner. Man is not only a zôon politikon, a political being in the broader sense, but – going even further – also a zôon logon echon – a being gifted with reason and language. For Aristotle, language and reason made it possible for man to “have a conception of good and evil, of right and wrong”, be able to enter into a political exchange about this with others, and organise coexistence in this way from a political perspective.11 According to Aristotle, this definition provided the sole foundation for the difference between man and (other) animals.
(iii) The Aristotelian political anthropology positioned man and his lifestyle firmly in a political way of living with other people. The human being is therefore directly dependent on his fellow man for his survival as well as for the good and successful life in different ways. From this viewpoint, man is not only a zôon politikon like other animals – living politically by nature – and also not merely a zôon logon echon – gifted with reason and language – but, going beyond that, also a zôon koinonikon – a “community being”12 who needs the connection to his fellow man just as the individual is needed by the rest of the community. A formal, superficial (political) coexistence, similar to “grazing on the same pasture”,13 is impossible for the life of man according to Aristotelian political anthropology.
Aristotle powerfully records this insight – which is fundamental for everything political – of the indispensable belonging to a community in the centre of the development of his political anthropology in politics: the one – the individual person – who is either unable to participate in forms of community, or who has no need of the community with others because of his individual self-sufficiency, is firstly not part of the state (e.g. the polis) and secondly therefore either an animal or a god.14 But the wild animal on the one hand and the self-sufficient divinity on the other do not apply to humans and their nature, especially since they are dependent on different forms of community for their lives in many respects.
From an ethical-political perspective, this concept of belonging to a community demands active political involvement and the acceptance of political responsibility on the part of the citizen. Aristotle described this kind of involvement – in addition to other passages in the “Philosophy of Human Affairs” – in Politics VII and VIII where he develops his “best imaginable state”, the so-called “polis as required”.15 In the course of these ethical-political investigations, he initially deals with what he considers the desirable life of the citizen within the political community of this “best imaginable state” that inevitably includes an ethical-political foundation.16
On the one hand, Aristotle talks about the ethical, as well as political, indispensability of political participation on the part of the citizen within the political community, the politikê koinonia. The political participation is obligatory in this plan for the state17 as only the acceptance of civic duties (e.g. military, administrative, political, juridical, or cultic) could bring about civic rights – in the broader and narrower sense – (e.g. subjective legal claims, leisure, self-interest, self-responsibility for one’s lifestyle, self-fulfilment). This period of essential and required political involvement from the citizen – as well as that needed for the individual care and work for the household and farming community – was described by Aristotle as a time of “non-leisure” (ascholia) because it demanded practical activities that the citizen had to fulfil immediately. All of this was completely in the sense of the political autarchy and autonomy of the polis.
On the other hand, however, Aristotle deals with the period of the free citizen’s “leisure” (scholê ) in Politics VII and VIII. It investigates the period of the individual’s personal, meaningful way of life beyond politics and political participation. In other words: A person who honours his political civic duties in this Aristotelian “best imaginable state” and performs these duties according to the law and for the good of the polis conscientiously and virtuously merits – in the broader sense – the right to occupy himself with things outside of the political sphere. Fundamentally, this is a matter of the potential for an individual lifestyle (leisure) that can be decided on as one sees fit, but only after the period of political participation (non-leisure). This means only when the obligations in political affairs have been taken care of. And, for the leisure period, Aristotle recommends thoughtful philosophical study and education in general. Here, it would not be going too far to note that – at least in the texts mentioned – he had already thought about a kind of “educated class” of citizens.
3. From the community of citizens to the civil society: The modern era
From the philosophical perspective, the three most important points in the changes from the community of citizens of antiquity to the modern civil society can be portrayed under the concepts of individuality, independence, and society.
(i) Individuality
As previously mentioned, the Aristotelian practical philosophy in general, and its political anthropology, have experienced both acceptance and rejection over the course of history. In modern political thought especially, many Aristotelian positions of his ethical-political symbioses were questioned for their general validity. In the course of political thought, beginning in the modern era, a greater distance was established between ethics and politics in comparison with ancient classical theory. In addition to doubts about the Aristotelian basic constant that humans are by nature community beings, criticism was also expressed of the Aristotelian “practical-political way of life”, the bios practikos kai politikos,18 and its binding necessity for the citizen.
In his philosophy, John Locke had already stressed the possibility of many different lifestyles and provided them with a new individualisation. He anchored these personal possibilities firmly on the basis of the fundamental rights to “life, liberty, and happiness”. However what is modern about the modern era is not the postulation of the “pursuit of happiness” – which Aristotle had already dealt with – but lies in two other details: first, in the definition of this pursuit of happiness as an activity that anybody – not just the free (male) citizen – can organise and determine for him- or herself, and second, all should do as they see fit. According to John Locke, all people look for happiness in the organisation of the way they lead their own lives, but they do not all look for the same kind of happiness or happiness in the same things. John Locke summarised the maxim of the modern individual, when compared with antiquity, in the following way: “Although people choose different things [in connection with the individual lifestyle], they all make the right choice.”19
Accordingly, individual life concepts cannot – or can hardly – be generalized, let alone represented in a single overall picture. John Locke’s – not entirely irony-free – criticism of the practical-political philosophy of antiquity is that it tried to do so anyway and thus had an extremely limited perspective on the conduct of human life. And so, he states that one “might have as reasonably disputed, whether the best relish were to be found in apples, plums, or nuts, and have divided themselves into sects upon it”.20
(ii) Independence
In addition to the growing awareness of the individual in the knowledge of individuality, there was also the need for the independent person, as was the case in the course of the philosophy of Enlightenment most recently. Unlike in ancient philosophy, this now applied explicitly for all people. In a text from 1783, Immanuel Kant answered the question of “What is Enlightenment?” with the following words: “Enlightenment is man’s release from his self-incurred tutelage. Tutelage is man's inability to make use of his understanding without direction from another. Self-incurred is this tutelage when its cause lies not in lack of reason but in lack of resolution and courage to use it without direction from another.”21
At this point, the individual person is responsible for himself. In short: independence cannot be prescribed but has to be developed out of the person, the individual. And the individualisation or subjectification of the human mentioned in a first step now demands – in a second step – the independence of the individual, which should be achieved in the course of the history of the political enlightenment, in particular through the equality of all people before the law, and the right to education, freedom of expression, solidarity, separation of powers, etc. That goes hand in hand with the individual’s self-determination of his or her own way of life within the legal provisions of the modern state. But Kant was already aware that the individual’s path to independence is not an easy one – and he also provides possible reasons for this: “Laziness and cowardice are the reasons why so great a portion of mankind, after nature has long since discharged them from external direction (…), nevertheless remains under lifelong tutelage, and why it is so easy for others to set themselves up as their guardians. It is so easy not to be of age.”22
(iii) Society
From the politico-philosophical perspective, individuality and independence, in particular, form two cornerstones of the modern understanding of society in contrast to the ancient political community. Of course, there are also many other aspects that play a role. This makes it clear that the comparison between the community of citizens and our civil society is not merely a semantic project. However, this comparison between community and society had already become a topic of discussion in sociology in the 19th century, indicating that this development thesis is in no way new. In his treatise Ancient Law, published in 1861, the historian Henry Sumner Maine dealt with the development of the political community from antiquity to the modern society as a development “from status to contract”.
Following in the footsteps of Henry Sumner Maine, the sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies made observations on – and divided apart – these two levels in a broader sociological form from the perspective of the period in his publication Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft (Community and Society), which was published in 1887. He distinguishes the community will (if people are in favour of life within the community of the village, in a sports club, or in religion) from the social will (if people approve of taking part in public life, in forms of political involvement, or participation in a stock corporation). According to Ferdinand Tönnies, the difference between community and society lies in the fact that, on the one hand, the community is self-sufficient and can be chosen freely, while on the other hand, society is viewed as an individually applicable instrument that people can make use of or not.
To summarise: No matter to which politico-sociological extent and regardless of all kinds of side effects (even if they are positive), individuality as well as independence have contributed to man, in the course of his individual and varied striving for life, liberty, and happiness, being able to participate in social forms of coexistence, and actively help to shape the political society – or not, if he so chooses. In keeping with one’s own subjective judgement on the one hand and to the extent allowed by the laws of the land on the other, today people are – in principle – free to participate politically or lead a completely apolitical life, in the narrower sense, in our modern understanding and reject political participation in light of their own lifestyle. A fact that in ancient times – once again with the focus on the theory and practice of the classical Greek period – was neither accepted anthropologically nor in the politics of the community.23
4. On the topicality of also thinking of the “civil society” as a “community of citizens”
On no account should the comparison between the ancient community of citizens and modern civil society be overused, especially since there are socio-political and scientific developments between these two perspectives that can hardly be portrayed in a single overview – if at all. But still – first and foremost – the currently acute global COVID-19 pandemic has revealed that, on the one hand, the modern civil societies are possibly more like civic communities than the historical, sociological, and philosophical developments would lead us to expect and, on the other, the individual, independent citizens living in a society – and therefore left to their own judgement as to the extent of their political participation – would like to believe. This is compounded in this time of crisis by the fact that rationalisation, globalisation, and cosmopolitanism have, in no way, made the life of the people and their subjective lifestyles any easier.
Through the rationalisation processes in all areas of life and relationships, globalisation was, and continues to be, an additional thoroughly rational result and that with all its positive and negative consequences. Today, the economy, politics, and science take place in an increasingly global context. And, according to the sociologist Ulrich Beck, this leads to the necessity to alter the perspective from which society (or societies) is observed. Ulrich Beck believes that global problems – such as the pandemic that has had a worldwide impact – can only be solved in a global context.24 Ecological, economic, healthcare, and political crises have long not only had an impact on the country, region, or continent hit by them.
On the one hand, the COVID-19 pandemic shows just how fragile modern societies are in many parts of the world. Ulrich Beck also serves as an interesting point of reference in this case as, faced with the global developments, he spoke about risk societies as early as 1986. Characteristic for these risk societies is that they can easily tip from one extreme to the other due to modernisation and mechanisation – in short, research and development. On the other hand, it can be observed that modern societies are still dependent on a basic level of participation on the part of the citizens – in this current, acute crisis, by paying attention to the health-related development in one’s own country and possibly even beyond its borders, supporting any measures necessary to contain the pandemic, or reducing some personal habits one has become fond of – and which have usually developed out of a certain level of independence – for a certain period of time. All of this makes it apparent that – despite the many developments that have taken place – the civil society, at its core, also means a society of citizens. It would only take the actions of a few people to not only upset the hoped-for effects in the health, economic, and political areas, but – going even further – counteract them.
It can be concluded that, although the developments from the ancient community of citizens to the modern civil society were clearly accomplished through individualisation and independence, and by following the path towards the open societies of modern democracies, the community of citizens is still in existence – or must be. This can be recognised more clearly in times of crisis than in other periods. Evidence of this was provided in the speech given to the Austrian people at the beginning of November by the Federal President Alexander van der Bellen in connection with the regulations on the second corona lockdown in Austria. In his six-minute address, he appealed to “the community” six times and did not speak to or about “the society” even once.25
5. Community policy empathy as a civil right and obligation
And now it is necessary – in a final step – to use five points to compare ancient times with the present; however, all of the aforementioned limitations of the comparison must be taken into consideration.
(i) Ancient political theory, as well as large areas of political practice in the classical period, were already aware of the crucial necessity of the political participation of the citizen in the community, in the sense – and for the benefit – of the whole political body (also for the all sections of the polis), and demanded that this be fulfilled. However, this participation was not only considered a political, but also a moral obligation. Nevertheless, the wellbeing of the political community of the citizens of the polis was mostly given priority over that of the individual. Individuality, as well as independence in the modern sense of the word, was not in demand to this extent.
(ii) The developments from the ancient community of citizens to the modern civil society is connected with many significant and constitutive achievements, especially in Europe. They will not be questioned or criticised here – but they include, as mentioned previously, most notably the individuality and independence of the specific person in his life in society. In a subsequent step, this contributed to separating the community and society more clearly from each other than before. In this separation, political participation was transferred to the social area and removed even further from the immediate individual and independent way of life (of course, this did not happen everywhere).
(iii) However, the two aspects mentioned above should not lead to the assumption that the modern civil society does not still preserve a kind of community of citizens at its core. As just shown, how much the human being is a “community creature”, and not merely a social, individualised person in an environment that is completely free of politics, becomes crystal clear, especially in times of crisis. As Aristotle determined: The human being is dependent on his fellow man for his mere survival, on the one hand, and for a good and successful life, on the other. This forms the cornerstone for understanding the human (political) community. And, this perspective is still valid.
(iv) Seen from this politico-philosophical perspective of the human being as an individual, independent “community creature”, it can be further deduced that one cannot be completely indifferent to the life of the other – especially in one’s own state. The foundation of this non-indifference can be expressed with the necessity for a minimum of community political empathy. In the modern understanding of the political, ethics and politics are not as far away from each other as they might seem at first glance when observing current political practice. (Once again: There was already an awareness for the indissoluble symbiosis of ethics and politics in ancient times.)
(v) In the modern understanding, this community political empathy can be classified, from the ethical-political perspective, as a civic right and obligation. On the one hand, the citizens have a right to not be left behind, by politics on one side and their fellow citizens on the other, within the socio-political discourses and developments. On the other hand, it is possible to recognise the ethical-political challenge facing the individual and independent person within a political community, as well as society, of showing consideration for others and, ultimately, also recognise the individuality and independence of the other.
1 Funke, Peter: Die griechische Staatenwelt in klassischer Zeit. In: Gehrke, Hans-Joachim / Schneider, Helmuth (eds.), Geschichte der Antike, Stuttgart 2006, p. 176.
2 Lotze, Detlef: Griechische Geschichte – Von den Anfängen bis zum Hellenismus, Munich 2010, p. 21.
3 Bürgin, Alfred: Zur Soziogenese der politischen Ökonomie – wirtschaftsgeschichtliche und dogmengeschichtliche Betrachtungen, Marburg 1996, p. 30.
4 Cancik, Hubert / Schneider, Helmuth (eds.), Der neue Pauly – Enzyklopädie der Antike, Stuttgart 2001, vol. 10, p. 23, s.v. Polis.
5 Funke, Peter: Die griechische Staatenwelt in klassischer Zeit. In: Gehrke, Hans-Joachim / Schneider, Helmuth (eds.), Geschichte der Antike, Stuttgart 2006, p. 166.
6 Cf. Varga, Simon: Perspektiven kosmopolitischer Menschenwürde in der Philosophie der Antike. In: Sedmak, Clemens (ed.), Menschenwürde – Vom Selbstwert des Menschen, Grundwerte Europas vol. 7, Darmstadt 2017, pp. 118–119.
7 Cf. Aeschylus: Die Perser. Übersetzt vom Emil Staiger, Stuttgart 2015, pp. 242–245.
8 Aristoteles: Nikomachische Ethik. Übersetzt von Ursula Wolf, Hamburg 2006, X 10, 1181b15.
9 Höffe, Otfried: Geschichte des politischen Denkens, Munich 2016, p. 54.
10 Cf. Aristoteles: Politik. Übersetzt von Franz Susemihl, Hamburg 2003, I 2, 1253a7.
11 Cf. Aristoteles: Politik. Übersetzt von Franz Susemihl, Hamburg 2003, I 2, 1253a15.
12 Aristoteles: Eudemische Ethik. Übersetzt von Franz Dirlmeier, Berlin 1984, VII 10, 1242a25.
13 Aristoteles: Nikomachische Ethik. Übersetzt von Ursula Wolf, Hamburg 2006, X 9, 1170b11.
14 Cf. Aristoteles: Politik. Übersetzt von Franz Susemihl, Hamburg 2003, I 2, 1253a26-29.
15 Cf. Aristoteles: Politik. Übersetzt von Franz Susemihl, Hamburg 2003, VII 4, 1325b36.
16 Cf. Varga, Simon: Vom erstrebenswertesten Leben – Aristoteles' Philosophie der Muße, Boston / Berlin 2014, pp. 183–185.
17 Wolfgang Kullmann finds it “noteworthy” that, within the framework of the state to the best of its ability, there would be the possibility of “withdrawing from political life and living “unpolitically” in manner of speaking.
18 Aristoteles: Politik. Übersetzt von Franz Susemihl, Hamburg 2003, VII 2, 1324a27.
19 John Locke: Versuche über den menschlichen Verstand. Übersetzt von Carl Winckler, Hamburg 2006, Book II, XXI 55. (English: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/10615/10615-h/10615-h.htm#link2HCH0024 – (Book II, 56) accessed 28.11.2020).
20 John Locke: Versuche über den menschlichen Verstand. Übersetzt von Carl Winckler, Hamburg 2006, Book II, XXI 55.
21 Kant, Immanuel: Was ist Aufklärung?, Stuttgart 2002, p. 9. (English: https://resources.saylor.org/wwwresources/archived/site/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/What-is-Enlightenment.pdf – accessed 28.11.2020).
22 Kant, Immanuel: Was ist Aufklärung?, Stuttgart 2002, p. 9.
23 In the Hellenist era (directly following the Classical period), the various philosophical schools, including the Cynics, Stoics, and Epicureans, had already developed the first approaches to detach the human being from the immediate and categorical necessity of political participation. All of these schools made the attempt to relativise the political in its significance for the personal lifestyle of the individual. A basic tenet of the philosophy of the Hellenist period was that, in the final analysis, the political could not be made solely responsible for the good and successful life of the individual.
24 Beck, Ulrich: Der kosmopolitische Blick – oder: Krieg ist Frieden, Frankfurt 2004, pp. 7–10.
25 Alexander van der Bellen made an appeal to “Austrian men and women, and all those who live here” and asked for their understanding of the new measures “in the name of our community”. He continued by saying that the hardship that were to come as a result of the COVID-19 orders would be “especially difficult for some members of our community” to bear as well as that “community is not just an empty word”. Cf. https://www.bundespraesident.at/aktuelles/detail/tv-ansprache-anlaesslich-der-verordnung-zum-2-lockdown (Accessed: 10. 11. 2020).
The Civil Society and the Bourgeoisie
Ernst Bruckmüller
Summary: The modern formulation of the “civil” or “civic” society describes the common commitment of people in areas outside of their family and professional spheres – and usually outside of politics. “Citizens’ initiatives” can aim at influencing politics and the administration and, in special cases, even at changing the political system (as the občanské forum 1989 – citizens’ forum – did in the Czech part of former Czechoslovakia). This essay poses the question of the extent to which previous concepts of the bourgeoisie and “bourgeois society” have anything in common with the modern phenomena of the civil society. This is because, as a rule, civil-society activity takes place within the framework of legal possibilities, such as the right to personal freedom, the right to carry on a business, the freedom to practise a religion and express oneself, freedom of the press, freedom of association and assembly, the right to petition, etc. that were achieved by “bourgeois” visionaries, pioneers, revolutionaries, and politicians.
Citizen society, civil society, and the bourgeoisie
Today, when one speaks about the civil society or citizen society, one usually means the involvement of people in a great variety of areas outside of actual “politics” as well as their family and professional spheres. This involvement expresses itself in many ways in local, regional, and superregional initiatives in the fields of culture, the environment, the third world, care and support for asylum seekers, etc., but “civilian initiatives” can also have influencing politics and the administration as their goals. In authoritarian states, the civil society can even develop into a powerful movement to change the political system.1 It is worthwhile remembering the občanské forum (citizens’ forum) in the Czech part of what was once Czechoslovakia that was established on 19 November – only two days after the beginning of the Velvet Revolution in Prague.2 The terms “bourgeois society” and “civil society”, as well as občanské forum, are oriented towards mature, actively interested citizens who are prepared to become involved.
The following considerations deal with the question of the extent to which former concepts of the bourgeoisie and “bourgeois society” of the 19th and early 20th centuries have anything to do with the modern manifestations of the civil society. In modern democratic constitutional states, civil-society activity usually takes place within the framework of the legal possibilities achieved by “bourgeois” visionaries, pioneers, revolutionaries, and politicians. The central freedoms of the civil society include the right to personal freedom, the right to carry on a business, the freedom to practice a religion and express oneself, freedom of the press, freedom of association and assembly, and the right to petition. These are complemented by the protection of the private sphere (domiciliary right) and confidentiality of correspondence – although this is something that most of our contemporaries have voluntarily done away with by using the internet.
However, there is a conceptual problem in German that most other languages are not aware of. The German word “Bürger” denotes both the (fully entitled) inhabitant of a pre-modern city and the (fully entitled) citizen. French, on the other hand, differentiates between “citoyen” (citizen of a state) and “bourgeois” (inhabitant of a town, with its root in “bourg” that can mean a market or – in the form of “fauxbourg” – a suburb). English recognises the “citizen”, as well as the “burgher” (city resident), and, in Italian, we have the “cittadino” and the “borghese”. It is obvious that they have their roots in the Latin “civis” and the “civitas” connected with it, and the Germanic-late-Latin “burgus”, which originally only meant a fort but was later expanded to include “civil” settlements, markets, and cities.3 Slavic languages also differentiate between the citizen (“državljan” in Slovene) and town resident (“meščan” in Slovene – and very similar in Russian).
However, “zivile”, with its roots in the Latin “civis”, has remained alive in German alongside the local word. It was originally used as a contrast to the military but soon came to denote a certain – “civilised”, non-violent, equitable – behaviour when dealing with other people. Borrowed from the French “civil” (from the Latin “civilis”) in the 16th century, it meant middle class, patriotic, national, and public.4 During the Enlightenment in the 18th century, “zivilisiert” – in the sense of enlightened, non-violent, good behaviour – was added although the old bourgeois concept of “Ehrsamkeit” (respectability) and its inherent factors of being of legitimate birth and upright behaviour still resonated.
The behaviour required a juridical standardisation: In 1789, the great Austrian enlightener Gottfried van Swieten (1733–1803, son of the famous doctor Gerard van Swieten) defined the “bourgeois society”, as opposed to a “horde of wild people”, by “those principles of their affiliation” that there can be “no right without obligation, and no obligation without right.”5 The “civil society “(= society of citizens) therefore needed a “civil law” as a basis. This was codified at the time and came into force as the “General Civil Code” (ABGB) in the year 1812.6 The term “citizen” was first encountered in legislation during the reign of Joseph II. The ABGB also assumed a common citizenship of the residents of those Habsburg (Austrian) countries in which the ABGB was put into effect (but not in Hungary!).
But was society – not only in Central Europe but throughout the continent – so advanced that it could be interpreted as a society of people with equal rights? Feudal dependencies actually still existed in most regions. In no way could those living in rural areas, who made up the majority of the population at the time, be considered as being members of this new general bourgeois society. In 1789, the French Revolution asserted the abolishment of all feudal bonds in Europe with the victory of its slogan of “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”. A few years previously, Joseph II had at least done away with serfdom in his “Austrian monarchy” (from 1781, first of all in Bohemia), but the farmers still had to rely on the manorial lords for their land and property. This dependence continued in the Austrian Empire until 1848; it was considered a component of the “state constitutions”, meaning that these conditions were not included in the AGBG (they were not regarded as a lease!)
The genesis of the “bourgeois society” in the Habsburg monarchy
Where can we look for the core of the new “bourgeois society”? It originally was comprised of men who were not dependent on domiciliary rights and not subjected feudally – therefore, first and foremost, townspeople. They were “citizens” in the traditional sense of possessing the civil rights of a town and being the subject of a monarch (and not a noble lord!). A new, educated bourgeois configuration, dominated by civil servants, buts also including writers, professors, teachers, and scientists – many of them in civil service (and more than a few ex-Jesuits after the repeal of their order in 1773) – developed out of this old urban bourgeoisie in the years after the reign of Maria Theresa and Joseph II. In addition, the emerging supra-regional market (and the almost equally significant market in the rapidly expanding residence city itself) resulted in considerable entrepreneurial growth, the prosperity of which formed the foil against which the bourgeois culture of the Biedermeier period could later develop. This new entrepreneurship was usually favoured by a state factory charter; i.e., it was possible to run a business without adhering to the restrictions and stipulations that the individual guilds, associations, and professional societies had formerly prescribed. This shows that the new educated bourgeoisie and new entrepreneurship were both the products of the state in the making!
Entrepreneurship, which was not regulated by a guild, and for which the name of “fabricant” was soon introduced to distinguish it from “master craftsman”, originally had no connection to the new educated classes. The entrepreneurs only gradually achieved some of the social standing that the intelligentsia had already claimed for itself. The state, which needed both, awarded outstanding members of the two groups with titles of nobility.7 These peerages (from a simple “von” to “knight” – or “baron” at the most) characterised the “second society” with their upper-class lifestyle who ranked behind the traditional high nobility but combined their sophisticated modes of behaviour with scientific, artistic, and literary interests. Schubert was honoured in these circles, and this is also where Grillparzer and Bauernfeld socialised. Grillparzer’s close ties were due to his uncle Joseph Sonnleithner’s connections. These circles were also the principal clients for painting which, along with music and theatre, rapidly blossomed in the Biedermeier and pre-March periods. Its master artists Friedrich von Amerling, Moritz Michael Daffinger, Josef Danhauser, Peter Fendi, Josef Kriehuber, and Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller created many portraits of members of this society.
The “second society” and the middle classes
The “second society” can be considered the leading group of the new bourgeois class that referred to itself as middle class. As early as in 1770, a rhyme typifying the self-awareness of the new middle class made the rounds:
“No-one’s lord, and no-one’s slave
That is the right of the middle-class”
The middle class therefore found itself between the ruling system (sovereign, bureaucracy, military, and nobility) and those who were still subjected to feudal domination – the mass of the farmers, as well as those dependent on domiciliary rights, apprentices, labourers, messengers, servants, and maids. In an anonymous document published in Leipzig in 1843 “Pia desideria of an Austrian Writer”, Eduard von Bauernfeld described all the intellectually active segments of society, “Professors, academics, artists, fabricants, tradesmen, economists, and even civil servants and clerics”, as belonging to the middle classes that were urgently demanding that censorship be relaxed and a general change in the political situation:
“… the Viennese have changed; they have become desperately serious. Here, as everywhere else, industry has set up its throne; a people that forms trade associations no longer has time to deal with what they prefer most: fried chicken, the Theatre in the Leopoldstadt, and the music of Strauss and Lanner.”8
With the Lower Austrian Trade Association (1839), the Inner Austrian Trade Association in Graz (1839), the Juridical-Political Reading Circle (1841), and the Concordia Writers’ Club (1844), the still-young middle-classes created new, modern organisational forms – ultimately also discussion forums in which, in spite of censorship and the police, certain demands on the state were also formulated.
Numerous problems were waiting to be solved – the farmers’ demands to abolish the feudal system, the growing need of the lower classes, and the national discontent that was becoming increasingly pressing, as well as the paralysis of the government that had been playing absolutism without a monarch (since the death of Franz I). Ferdinand I (1835–1848) was only nominally in power.
1848 – “… bourgeois revolution” –?
The long-expected revolution erupted on 13 March 1848 – it was a reaction to the Parisian February Revolution as well as Kossuth’s inflammatory speech in the Hungarian Parliament that was meeting not far from Vienna in Pressburg (Bratislava) at the time. Bourgeois circles prepared several petitions to be presented to the court, but the demands were expressed most clearly in the petition that the students formulated in the Aula and handed over to the Lower Austrian State Parliament on 13 March. The first success came soon after the first shots had been fired and the first people had been killed (“the fallen of March”). Metternich, the hated symbolic figure of the old regime, was overthrown on the same evening (the fact that he had already been disempowered was not known outside of court circles).
The Revolution quickly chalked up other victories. Freedom of the press, arming the people (national guards and the Academic Legion), and the promise of a constitution were announced on 15 March. When the so-called Pillersdorf Constitution was enacted on 25 April, it seemed as if the majority of the bourgeois demands had actually been fulfilled. But, the constitution, which was modelled on the Belgian version, had its weaknesses. It had been issued, or imposed, from above and allowed for a two-chamber system and an absolute veto from the monarch.
The “storm petition” of 15 May opposed this and especially the extremely restrictive electoral procedure that had been proclaimed on 9 May. The so-called May Revolution was borne mainly by students, craftsmen, and labourers whose situation had not improved since March. This led to the “bourgeois” revolution finding itself in a decision-making crisis. What was more important – especially for the members of the upper middle-class: the expansion of personal and political rights or the preservation of the Habsburg Empire? Faced with these alternatives, quite a few the dissatisfied bourgeois citizens remained silent. Or – like Franz Grillparzer in early June in his famous poem on Field Marshall Radetzky (“Good luck, Commander! Get it done! […] Austria is on your side”) – came out in favour of the nation state, the military, and ultimately, on the side of the counterrevolution.
However, the Austrian Reichstag assembled before the victory of the counterrevolution – this was the first elected parliament in the Western sector of Habsburg Monarchy (elections to the lower house had been held previously in Hungary – but only entitled members of the nobility had taken part). The election resulted in a clear bourgeois majority: approximately 55 per cent of the 383 representatives belonged to this class. Almost one quarter – 92 – were farmers. They considered the question of the constitution relatively unimportant; their main concern was with the agrarian reform to abolish the landlord’s primary ownership and resulting contractual obligations on the part of the farmer as well as the landlord’s jurisdiction and police force. This was actually passed by the Reichstag at the end of August and made the farmers fully entitled citizens. The differences between citizens and labourers, property owners and those without possession, intensified during these debates. When the empty state coffers caused the Minister of Labour to cut former subsidies, this resulted in mass demonstrations by the workers who were bloodily dispersed by the bourgeois National Guard (“Prater Battle”, 23 August 1848). It proved impossible to overcome this split.
The rest is well known: The Croat Banus Jelačić invaded Hungary, leading to war between that country and the imperial army. When it was planned to send troops from Vienna to Hungary, the October Revolution broke out and ultimately led to the military conquest of Vienna by the emperor’s forces on 31 October. This was followed by numerous arrests and executions.
But, similar to the retarding element before the catastrophic last act of a tragedy, the Reichstag assembled once again – this time, in Kremsier (Kroměňiče) in Moravia in the imposing castle of the Archbishop of Olmütz (the imperial family had been housed in his residence in Olmütz since October 1848). Here, the exclusively “German” liberals were isolated in a Czech environment and there was no danger of a popular uprising for this parliament. However, the Reichstag performed extremely positive work until its dissolution on 7 March 1849 – a draft for a constitution was agreed on: it not only proclaimed the principle of the sovereignty of the people and civil liberties, but also aimed to solve the problem of the coexistence of the different language groups in the multinational state. At the same time as the dissolution of the parliament, Prince Felix Schwarzenberg’s government proclaimed its own constitution (once again: imposed from above) dated 4 March 1849. The parliamentary representatives who were thought to be radical were arrested, and several were sentenced to death (including the “Preacher of the Revolution”, Anton Fuster, Dr Josef Goldmark, Dr Ernst (von) Violand, and the “liberator of the farmers” Hans Kudlich, who – like many others – was able to flee in time).9
The struggles for independence in Hungary – with Russian help – and Italy had been crushed by the summer of 1849.
Neo-absolutism – restoration or bourgeois control?
In contrast to the old form of absolutism, neo-absolutism was characterised by resolute government. Agrarian reform was quickly introduced. Now the “Empire of Austria” became a genuinely unified state for the first time, having been given a unified administration, a unified customs territory, and a unified (private) legal sphere. The decision-making authority was concentrated on the young Emperor Franz Joseph. The bureaucracy became the pillar of this new system of rule. It could be said that, as compensation for political codetermination, the German-Austrian, bourgeois-bureaucratic element was de facto given control not only of the bureaucracy but of all people living in the empire. Seeing that, after 1848, the German-Austrian bourgeoisie developed into the beneficiaries and bearers of the counterrevolution, Habsburg centralism, and concept of large national state, their memories of the “bourgeois” revolution were later relatively insignificant. At the same time, a slow change in the German bourgeoisie’s traditional feeling of cultural superiority led in the direction of an increasingly radical German nationalism (and increasingly radical antisemitism) in which, finally, anticlericalism remained the sole remnant of the once liberal heritage.10
The entrepreneurs also profited from the new unified state. During the Revolution, they had already taken the side of the government and military. The most important thing for them was the preservation of greater Habsburg Austria, with equal rights throughout the country and a uniform customs and currency area. If the counterrevolution guaranteed that the bourgeoisie would achieve their goal, and this was threatened by the Revolution, they would inevitably become an ally of the restoration. One small example:
On 27 March 1848, Giuseppe Miller-Aichholz, a Viennese wholesaler from Trentino, wrote to his father (in Italian) in Cles that the behaviour in Milan and Venice was hair-raising, that they had broken their oaths and were unfaithful traitors. In June, he travelled to Innsbruck as a member of a community committee to beseech the emperor to return to Vienna. On 13 August, he enthusiastically told his father about Radetzky’s victories over the Lombards and Piemontese. In March 1849, Miller was a member of the deputation of Viennese citizens chosen to thank the young Emperor Franz Joseph for the constitution and dissolution of the Reichstag. Only a few days later, he travelled to the war theatre in northern Italy, together with other councillors, to present Radetzky with the diploma making him an honorary citizen of Vienna. This put an impressive seal on the alliance between the upper classes and the army.
The brief reign of the liberal bourgeoisie
Initially, the “German” bourgeoisie only dominated in Austria in the form of the bureaucracy.11 However, simultaneously with the retraction of “civil” liberties, the entrepreneurial upper classes were granted considerable freedoms. The state’s difficult financial situation increased the possibilities of the financial bourgeoisie to have an influence, seeing that the state needed a tremendous amount of money to develop the new court and administration system with its countless new civil servants. At the same time, the expenses for the army and (new!) gendarmery remained high.12 And they increased even further when Austria occupied the Romanian princedoms during the Crimean War and stationed an army in Galicia. These politics led to a state of permanent hostility with Russia, without being able to win the liberal Western powers (England and France) as allies. Finally, after the defeat near Solferino in 1859, the Emperor was informed that there could only be new loans for the highly-indebted state with parliamentary representation – at least for a control of the state’s finances. In this way, the unwilling Emperor was forced to establish representative bodies from the individual parliaments and imperial Reichsrat that were principally intended to act as the taxpayers’ controllers of the state’s non-transparent expenditure policies.
The voting rights for the communities and individual parliaments, which were legislated within the framework of the “February patent” in 1861, from which the representatives in the Reichsrat were to be elected were quite clearly tailored to satisfy the interests of the bourgeoisie. Seeing that it was, in principle, a matter of controlling finances, the right to vote was linked to the tax payments: each person who paid a direct tax (property, trade, building, or income tax) in the communities was entitled to vote. However, only the top two-thirds of community voters, and those in the cities who paid taxes amounting to more than 10 guilders annually, were entitled to vote for the parliaments. Those in possession of an education patent – teachers, professors, priests, doctors, engineers, and attorneys, as well as captains in coastal regions – were also eligible. The aim was to ensure that community councils, parliaments and the “Reichsrat” were dominated by “property and education”.
It was not until 1867 – after the defeat at Königgrätz – that these representative bodies were given more responsibilities and all citizens were given the five fundamental constitutional rights (“December Constitution”) that had long been demanded by the liberal bourgeoisie: independence of the judiciary, the separation of justice and the administration, and a clear definition of the positions of the parliament and (imperial) government. This resulted in the introduction of the first government to be made up almost entirely of men from the bourgeoisie – the “citizens ministry”. To provide a balance to so much bourgeois culture, its head, the Minister-President, was “Carlos” Prinz Auersperg, the “first cavalier of the empire”. The bourgeois ministers actually did particularly good work. Here, I should mention the passing of the Elementary School Law that was presented to the Reichsrat by the Minister of Education Hasner Ritter von Arta (1818–1891). In the years before 1875, the representatives of the bourgeoisie, German, centralistic liberalism developed considerable problem-solving competence in areas that, in the future, would make “civil-society” commitment easier. These included the Cooperatives Law (1873), which complemented the freedom of association in the area of economic activity that had been attained in 1867. The liberals also simplified the self-organisation of workers through the coalition freedom. However, after several confessional laws, its creative powers became paralysed around 1875. The liberals became the defenders of the already-achieved legal and material possibilities, but they lost their role in the forefront of bourgeois society. They truly became conservative.
The weaknesses of the bourgeoisie of the Habsburg monarchy
The stock exchange crash of 1873, and the prolonged economic crisis that followed, shattered faith in the supposedly so beneficial power of the free market, as well as in liberal politics. This was further aggravated by shameless corruption in the circles of the liberal parliamentarians who had been rewarded with shares in railway companies for passing various railway laws.13
The antiliberal criticism targeted the bourgeois liberals as politicians who cashed in on their office who exploited farmers, small tradesmen, and labourers, and even deprived them of their political rights. Did they not benefit from this state, whose authoritarian orientation was, in fact, extremely advantageous to the bourgeoisie, which (from a theoretical perspective) was so strongly focused on independence and personal freedom – insomuch as the state provided the bourgeoisie with everything they needed, like a gigantic common market, protection of property and parliamentary budget control? This criticism went hand in hand with those antisemitic positions that continued to live on among many Catholics as a result of the church’s condemnation of Jews as the “murderers of Christ”. In the Catholic “Vaterland” newspaper from 20 December 1871, the liberal economic laws (abolition of the guilds, freedom of trade, mobilisation of peasant property, abolition of usuary laws, etc.) were criticised as tearing down “all the barriers” that protected the Christian people to the benefit of the Jews. “The workers and craftsmen are moving into the factories, property into the hands, houses into the possession, and the people’s wealth, into the pockets, of the Jews (…).14
The defensive position taken by bourgeois liberalism from around 1875 was also connected with the numerical relationships. From around 1870, it would have probably been possible to circumscribe the largest section of bourgeoisie with those who were entitled to vote in cities and industrial locations. Later, the extension of the electoral law made this increasingly less likely. If it can be assumed that “bourgeois” presupposes a certain income, the statistics on personal income tax, which were introduced in 1896, provide a first approximation. At the time, around 6.5 per cent of all employed people were taxpayers. The 33 per cent (or about 300,00 wage earners) who had an income of more than 2400 crowns must certainly be classified as middle-class. Assuming that an average bourgeois household was made up of 4 people, the middle classes consisted of at least 1.2 million people or about 4.6 per cent of the total population of the Austrian part of the empire that totalled around 26 million in 1900. The prominent liberal politician Ernst von Plener (1841–1923) also referred to the small size of the Austrian middle classes during the debate on universal suffrage in 1905/06 – according to his calculations, while 3.4 per cent of the Austrian population was subject to income tax, the figure was 9 per cent in Prussia and as high as 13 per cent in Saxony.15
This picture changes if the Western half of the Habsburg monarchy (Cisleithania) is compared with the territory of the Republic of Austria. Of course, this is due to the fact that, after the collapse of the monarchy, the most important bourgeois centre, the metropolis of Vienna, came to lie on its territory.
Around 1900, about a quarter of all taxpayers lived in Vienna and they earned almost exactly one third of all taxable income in old Austria. The dominance of Vienna among the higher income brackets emerges even more clearly: In 1907, only a quarter of the low-bracket taxpayers lived in Vienna, but this rose to 45 per cent among the “rich” (over 12,000 crowns annual income) and close to 52 per cent among the “very wealthy” (over 40,000 crowns annual income). This shows that more than half of all top incomes were assessed in Vienna!16
If one considers the comparatively small number of bourgeois existences, it comes as almost no surprise that these classes were relatively weak in the overall system of the monarchy. The strength of these groups was diminished even more by three additional problems:
1 1 The not especially large bourgeois classes were divided into a few metropolitan (especially Viennese) configurations and many groups in small and medium-sized towns with few parallels in connection with wealth, culture, and political positions. The dense network of large medium, and small large, towns that existed in Germany (and England) was missing. This differentiation was further increased by the fact that, although the Viennese bourgeoisie clearly dominated the economic sphere, it did not take the lead in the cultural and political life of the monarchy – as was the case with the Parisian bourgeoisie for example. This is because, on the one hand, the Viennese bourgeoisie was consciously German – this hindered any identification on the part of this leading bourgeoisie with the non-German middle-classes and on the other hand, it was strongly perceived to be “Jewish” – and this created a considerable gulf between the liberal upper classes and the increasingly antisemitic middle and lower classes. This perception also prevented the identification of the – mainly German-national (or: Christian social) – antisemitic medium and small towns with the liberal bourgeoisie in Vienna.17
2 2 The ongoing democratisation of the political life that ultimately led to universal suffrage for men in 1906 undermined the hardly resilient, precarious domination of the German-Austrian bourgeoisie even more. The nationalistic, antisemitic, and socialist mass movements threatened the bourgeois positions and contributed to “bourgeois” changing from being another word for “progressive” to a metaphor for cautious, security conscious, progress sceptical, and defensive to the demands for further political modernisation. It is possible that democratisation did not reach old-Austria too late, but too early – before the “gentrification” of society that needed to precede a modern democracy.
3 3 The bourgeoisie increasingly differentiated itself into middle classes oriented on national languages. In this way, any individual “national” bourgeois configuration became automatically involved in a war on several fronts: Against the agrarians (nobility and farmers), and their strong ability to enforce themselves in the political system, against the increasingly strengthened workers’ movement, against the specific other national movements, against the petit bourgeois – usually antisemitic – criticism from the cities, and, possibly even against the state.
However, what made all these bourgeois classes stick together until 1914/18 was that they were obviously able to participate in the economic boom and earn considerable wealth. As Roman Sandgruber put it so appropriately, the decades before 1914 were a “dreamtime for millionaires”.18 Although old-Austria had introduced a “progressive” income tax in 1896, the highest rate only lay at 5 per cent! A person who had a good hand for making money could become fabulously wealthy. This was still accompanied by a certain faith in advancement and security, and in the progress of technology and science. And the forms of propriety, civility, everyday culture, summering in the country, stays in the renowned spas – in short, a supernational bourgeois culture – remained across all of the borders separating nationalities and religions. In general, the middle classes progressed upwards economically, and it is possible that this positive material development among the non-German bourgeoisie could have made it possible to smooth the national contours and develop a new consensus at some time.
1918 – the end of the bourgeois world?
However, a global conflagration that the Habsburg monarchy would not survive was ignited in Vienna in 1914. Not only the monarchy collapsed in 1918; this was also the fate of the secure world of the bourgeoisie – the world of solid, traditional business relationships between Reichenberg, Prague, Prossnitz, Vienna, and Budapest; between Lemberg and the Balkans, Trieste and Alexandria. The common market and unified state crumbled. What happened to the middle classes at the time? The traditional security strategies of the middle classes (even the lower ones) proved to be deceptive. Neither being in possession of securities (especially government bonds) nor a tenement building and neither having a high-level position in the state administration nor in the private service sector offered protection against suddenly losing one’s wealth – going as far as putting one’s very survival in question – in the wake of the inflation that occurred during and after the war. Even those extremely cautious people of private means who did not fall for war bonds lost as much as three or four fifths of their fortunes.19
But this rupture did not affect all bourgeois classes in the same way. Of course, almost all of those in possession of Austrian (and Hungarian) bonds suffered certain financial losses. However, just how quickly the Czechoslovakian redevelopment bonds issued immediately after the foundation of the state in 1918 were oversubscribed is astonishing – the Czech bourgeoisie obviously still had sufficient financial reserves, which they had withheld from old-Austria, that they willingly put into the hands of their own (!) new state. In words that have often been quoted, Otto Bauer – the Austrian Social Democrat who is considered one of the leading thinkers of the left-socialist Austro-Marxist faction – expressed that the main losers as a result of the change were the members of the German-Austrian, and particularly Viennese, bourgeoisie:
“… The same process of currency devaluation…has pauperised broad layers of the old bourgeoisie. At first, this fate hit the men of private means… and, with them, the house owners were expropriated… The higher civil service was also depressed by the devaluation of the currency… It was the old Viennese patriarchate, the top strata of the Austrian intelligentsia, large sections of the middle and lower classes, who had become impoverished by the devaluation of the currency. They had actually been the ruling class of the Habsburg monarchy. They were the bearers of Austrian patriotism, of old-Austrian traditions. They had provided the Habsburg monarchy with its civil servants, with its officers. For a century, they had been the bearers of a specifically Austrian culture, Viennese literature, Viennese music, and Viennese theatre. They are the ones who were really defeated in the war. It was their empire that collapsed in October 1918. And they lost their wealth together with their empire…”20
However, rent control in particular enabled impoverished middle-class people to maintain a standard of living that would have been impossible in a completely free housing market.21 Leisure and summer holiday habits had also hardly changed. On the contrary – immediately after the war, people often sought refuge in the summer retreats in the silent hope that the farmers would still be able to find some food for them. The lack of capital also did not lead to a significant buyer’s market for summer holiday homes – this is also evidence of a quite astonishing continuity.22
Material deprivation – political disorientation?
The inflation destroyed a great deal of capital, especially when investments had been made in state securities (and here once again – especially in war bonds.) There is hardly a bourgeois biography in which this fact is not mentioned, seeing that it affected almost everyone belonging to this class in any way at all.23 The rent-control legislations that, de facto, expropriated the property owners had a similar effect – Otto Bauer already provided an accurate description of this. Up until 1914, it had been a common security strategy for members of the middle classes to own an apartment building to provide for their old age. Heinrich Röttinger (1869–1952), who retired from his final position as Director of the University Library in 1933, had an annual income of more than 16,000 crowns in 1914; only 34 per cent came from his salary (which still amounted to 5400 crowns), while 36 per cent came from renting and 15 per cent from his investments. Not untypically, the last two items were reduced to zero after 1918, partly due to devaluation and partly to the systematic disposal of property and securities. This was the first time that the government official had to rely entirely on his salary.24
Experiencing insecurity was a central shock for the highly developed desire for security felt by the members of the bourgeoisie of the late monarchy, which Stefan Zweig portrayed so lovingly in his writing.25 The inflation resulted in civil servants losing more than 85 per cent of their real income (1920: civil servants received 14 per cent of the peacetime purchasing power and, in 1925, their salaries were still only about 56 per cent of what they had been before the war).26 This material loss of position was underlined by the levelling of incomes during the inflationary period: In March 1922, a coal deliverer earned 1300 times as much as he did in 1914; for a hairdresser, this was only 400, for a university professor 214, a court councillor 124, and for an assistant doctor only 100 times as much. At the same time, a skilled worker in the metal, sugar, or electrical industry earned up to 1.8 million crowns, while the salary of a ministerial councillor was only 1.5 million crowns.27 Although the wage gap widened again after the stabilisation of the currency (autumn 1922), the relations remained completely different from traditional concepts. By no means, had the labourers become “rich” – they still earned very little compared to their counterparts in other countries.28 Nevertheless, the perception of the levelling for the affected “bourgeoisie” meant precisely the loss of the social advantages that had previously defined being “bourgeois”.
In the first years after the war, the feeling of material deprivation became mixed with the experience of social powerlessness due to the dominance of the left wing in the streets and political process: “Supported on the streets and with the means of trade union struggle, assured of the Bundeswehr recruited from their ranks, social democracy is able to allow itself the tremendous luxury of leaving all responsibility to the bourgeois parties, seeing that, in reality, it remains dominant, even if there is a bourgeois cabinet. However, the pillars of the old regime – the citizens and farmers – are leaving the field, intimidated, uncertain of their own destiny…” 29
The experience of persistent material deprivation continued for quite a few “bourgeois” even after “bourgeois” coalitions had taken over the government. The Geneva Protocol for the Reconstruction of Austria of 1922 forced an extensive reduction in the number of civil servants. It was proclaimed that the number of public employees was to be “reduced” by the round number of 100,000. By the end of 1925, 83,386 had actually retired or been dismissed, in addition to 10,000 who had worked for the Southern Railroad Organisation. The total number reached about 50 per cent of those still active, i.e., about one third of all the people employed in public service had been affected by these measures. In the following years, there was only a slow decrease in the number of public employees. However, this was then accelerated as a result of the collapse of the Creditanstalt Bank and the enormous costs for its reorganisation that were covered by the state. In 1926, around 200,000 people were employed in government administration, federal enterprises and the railroads; this decreased to 166,000 in 1933 (this later increased slightly due to the number of soldiers and police officers hired).30 The succession of bank failures that followed after the stabilisation crisis of 1924 had a similar effect. The Association of Banking and Savings Institute Officials had 24,500 members in 1924; this reduced to 11,000 in 1926 and even further to 7,700 in 1931.31
A high percentage of the bourgeois groups who had been hit hardest by the collapse of the monarchy, inflation, rent control legislations, budget restructuring, and bank failures lived in Vienna. The fact that “republic” lacked the positive connotation the word generally has for us today for these impoverished members of the bourgeoisie who were unsure of their status is unpleasant, but it is not incomprehensible. What is less comprehensible is that the “bourgeois” parties and governments showed so little commitment to the interests of their clientele. The radical pay cuts that the employees of the Creditanstalt were expected to accept as a result of the bank’s crisis even prompted Otto Bauer to speak in the main committee of the National Council. He stated that although he had actually nothing against such cuts, he would like to be permitted to state that, by doing this, the bourgeois parties were sawing off the branch they were sitting on.32 It seems possible that this approach was an expression of certain antisemitic currents among the Christian Socials and Greater Germans (bank directors were frequently Jews) and, in connection with this, probably also an attempt to gain popularity by attributing guilt to, and taking massive action against, bank directors and officials.33
The memoirs of Alexander Spitzmüller (1862–1953) offer a wide range of material for this behaviour – especially on the part of the Christian Socialists: In spite of his clearly Catholic stance, the one-time state official, then bank director (of the Creditanstalt), Austrian Trade Minister, and the last joint Finance Minister of the Austro-Hungarian empire, always remained an outsider for the Christian Socialists. He never received the thanks due to him for the energy he invested as governor of the Austro-Hungarian Bank (until its liquidation at the beginning of 1923) and as head of the Creditanstalt during the crisis of 1931/32; quite the contrary, everything possible was undertaken to hinder him in carrying out these arduous tasks.34 Spitzmüller’s memoirs are not the only case. Those of Hans von Loewenfeld-Russ, who, as a highly respected nutritionist, not only served the monarchy but also the young republic with unwavering loyalty, described the blockade of any further public career by the Christian Social Party as the result of a statement he made in the cabinet that seemed to expose him as sympathising with the Social Democrats.35
Entrepreneurial circles, therefore, started looking for alternatives early on. They supported the Heimwehr as a military force against the Republican Schutzbund of the Social Democrats. The management of the “Alpine” conglomerate in Styria, in particular, promoted the various Heimwehr organisations. Here, the management attempted to weaken the social democratic unions by supporting a “yellow” Heimwehr union. Bourgeois frustration became particularly evident in the results of the Vienna municipal and province election of 1932, when the Christian Socialists suffered severe losses to the National Socialists.
End of the bourgeoisie?
Despite the often-invoked losses and cuts – that occur in every memoir – the end of the monarchy did not (yet) mean the end of the bourgeois world. This did not happen until 1938, when the Jewish bourgeoisie (or, more precisely, the bourgeoisie of Jewish descent, because this had nothing to do with religious beliefs) were robbed of all their assets.36 As Peter Melichar once expressed in a conversation, the “aryanisation” files contained the most complete material on the cultural history of the (so-called Jewish) middle classes of the interwar period. The “aryanisations” undoubtedly created a much more profound break in the continuity of the bourgeois world that could be followed up to this point and now came to an end, destroyed by flight and, in the worst cases, by deportation to Theresienstadt and Auschwitz.
The major ruptures that took place in 1918, 1938, and 1945 can therefore be interpreted as three stages on the path to the post-bourgeois era – in the first, the Austrian bourgeoisie lost much of its economic power, and then – in the second starting 1938 – large sections of this bourgeoisie (the large Jewish portion) lost their property, homeland, and – all too often – their lives. In the third, after 1945, the former Great German-Liberal bourgeoisie experienced a similar – albeit nowhere near as catastrophic – deprivation.
Let us therefore assume that those classes that dominated “bourgeois” society in the 19th century largely lost their livelihoods in 1918, 1938, and 1945. Did the end of fascism, national socialism, and communism bring about a renaissance of the bourgeoisie? There are continuities in quite a few families, as well as enterprises, but family companies in particular tend to be unable to continue operating as such after a few generations. The bourgeoisie cannot be reconstructed as an economically, intellectually, and culturally dominating class in the style of the German-liberal bourgeoisie of the second half of the 19th century.
I return to the statements about the civil society made at the beginning of this essay. Put in a nutshell, the question is: How many traditional bourgeoisie does a democratic, civil society of free “citizens” need if it is to function successfully? Was the great crisis of 1914–1918 so catastrophic because it hit the bourgeoisie so severely? And was the inability of the new states to offer the “old” bourgeoisie of the monarchy a suitable new home one of the (several) reasons for the relatively rapid downfall of the order in 1918/19? And: Is a democratic “civil society” possible without social groups that – whether they consider themselves “bourgeois” or not – still represent the canon of values that were characteristic of the “classical” bourgeoisie: a high level of esteem for the self-determined individual, as well as personal achievement and efficiency, combined with the belief in the proficiency of free associations and participation in the self-administration of the community, an optimistic, science-based concept of human development, coupled with a deep distrust of all ready-made solutions prescribed “from above”?
On the other hand, many things that the bourgeoisie of the 19th century strived, and paved the way for such as developing the possibilities for education, promoting technical advancement, and improving the material opportunities and living standards of broader levels of society, had actually been realised when the bourgeoisie came to an end so that, today, many more people live a more “bourgeois” life than in the long-past age of the bourgeoisie. And they also have many more opportunities for “civil society” commitment.
1 https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zivilgesellschaft (accessed 3. 11. 2020).
2 https://www.bing.com/search?q=obcanske+forum&form=PRUSEN&pc=EUPP_UE12&mkt=enus&httpsmsn=1&msnews=1&rec_search=1&refig=64bde755d3b54d88bbd2f1cb325b839e&sp=2&qs=SC&pq=obcanski+forum&sk=HS1&sc=3-14&cvid=64bde755d3b54d88bbd2f1cb325b839e (accessed 3. 11. 2020).
3 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burgus (accessed 3. 11. 2020).
4 https://de.wiktionary.org/wiki/zivil
5 The van Swieten citation, after: Ernst Wangermann, Aufklärung und staatliche Erziehung, Vienna 1978, p. 79.
6 There is a wide range of literature on the ABGB. Here, I only refer to: Walter Selb, Herbert Hofmeister (eds.), Forschungsband Franz von Zeiller (1751−1828). Beiträge zur Gesetzgebungs- und Wissenschaftsgeschichte. Vienna – Graz – Cologne 1980.
7 Unless otherwise indicated, the author refers to his Sozialgeschichte Österreichs, 2nd ed., Vienna – Munich 2001.
8 Anonymous (Eduard von Bauernfeld), Pia desideria eines österreichischen Schriftstellers, Leipzig 1842, p. 16.
9 Wolfgang Häusler, Schubumkehr. Von der Tradition der demokratischen Revolution 1848 zu Deutschnationalismus und Antisemitismus, in: Österreich in Geschichte und Literatur 64, 2020, no.1, pp. 4–8, here p. 9.
10 Häusler, Schubumkehr, passim, sees the failure of the bourgeois revolution as the reason for this.
11 Waltraud Heindl published the most important works on Austrian bureaucracy in the 18th and 19th centuries: Gehorsame Rebellen. Bürokratie und Beamte in Österreich 1780 – 1848, Vienna – Cologne – Graz 1991; and: Josephinische Mandarine. Bürokratie und Beamte in Österreich vol. 2, 1848 –1914, Vienna 2013.
12 Fundamental information on these problems: Harm-Hinrich Brandt, Der österreichische Neoabsolutismus. Staatsfinanzen und Politik 1848 – 1860, 2 vols., Göttingen 1978. The resulting discussion is documented in: Harm-Hinrich Brandt (ed.), Der österreichische Neoabsolutismus als Verfassungs und Verwaltungsproblem, Vienna – Cologne – Weimar 2014.
13 Ernst Bruckmüller (ed.), Korruption in Österreich (Austriaca), Vienna 2011.
14 Cited after Häusler, Schubumkehr, p. 9.
15 Speeches by Ernst Frh. v. Plener 1873–1911, Stuttgart – Leipzig 1911, 987 (Speech in the Upper House on 2 December 1905).
16 Joseph von Friedenfels, Die individuelle Bewegung der Personaleinkommensteuer-Zensiten und die Höhe ihres Einkommens in den Jahren 1906 – 1908. In: Mitt. d. k. k. Finanzministeriums, no. 1 1913; Beiträge zur Statistik der Personaleinkommensteuer in den Jahren 1903 bis 1907, Vienna 1908.
17 John W. Boyer, Political Radicalism in Late Imperial Vienna. Origins of the Christian Social Movement 1848 –1897, Chicago-London 1981 (unchanged paperback edition, Chicago 1995).
18 Roman Sandgruber, Traumzeit für Millionäre. Die 929 reichsten Wienerinnen und Wiener im Jahr 1910, Graz – Vienna 2013.
19 Ernst Bruckmüller, Das österreichische Bürgertum zwischen Monarchie und Republik. In: Zeitgeschichte 20/1993, no. 3/4 (Schwerpunkt: Bürgertum) pp. 60–84. In particular, Ernst Bruckmüller – Elisabeth Ulsperger: Friedrich Pachers Einschätzung der materiellen Situation vor und nach dem Ersten Weltkrieg, in: Zeitgeschichte 20/1993, no. 3/4 (Schwerpunkt: Bürgertum), pp. 104–112.
20 Otto Bauer, Die österreichische Revolution, Wien 1923 (now in: Bauer, Werkausgabe, vol. 2, Vienna 1976), S. 755 f.
21 “Es läßt sich nicht zahlenmäßig nicht abschätzen, wie weit der Verarmung-sprozeß fortgeschritten ist. Aber als Tatsache kann er nicht verleugnet werden, wenngleich der äußere Anschein nicht die ganze Wirklichkeit merken läßt weil der Mieterschutz der breiten Masse des Bürgertums die Behauptung ihrer Wohnung und damit des äußeren Rahmens ihrer Existenz ermöglicht...” (It is impossible to quantify how far the impoverishment process has progressed. But it cannot be denied that it is a fact, although the external appearance does not reveal the whole reality, seeing that rent control has made it possible for the broad mass of the bourgeoisie to maintain their apartment and, thus, the outer appearance of their existence.) Das österreichische Wirtschaftsproblem. Denkschrift der österreichisch-deutschen Arbeitsgemeinschaft (Edited by Bruno Enderes, Karl Herrmann, Benedikt Kautsky, Rudolf Kobatsch, Hermann Neubacher, Edmund Palla, Erich Seutter-Lötzen, Gustav Stolper and Max Tayenthal), Vienna 1925, p. 21 f.
22 Marie-Theres Arnbom, Friedmann, Gutmann, Lieben, Mandl, Strakosch. Fünf Familienporträts aus Wien vor 1938, Vienna – Cologne – Weimar 2002.
23 It would be tedious to list the numerous examples. Friedrich Engel-Janosi never forgot to refer to the “wisdom” of the economist Schumpeter that a crown is a crown, cf. F. Engel-Janosi, ... aber ein stolzer Bettler, Graz 1974, 71: “Die Besuche österreichischer Finanzgrößen bei den Eltern hatten schon ihre Spuren in Gestalt voluminöser Pakete von Kriegsanleihen hinterlassen, sie erwiesen sich später als vorzüglich geeignet zu Tapezierungszwecken. (...) Man mußte wirklich ein so bedeutender Nationalökonom wie Professor Schumpeter sein, um dem Zauber der Formel ‘Krone ist Krone’ so völlig zu verfallen ...” (The visits Austrian financial stars made to my parents left their traces in the shape of voluminous packets of war bonds that later proved themselves to be ideal for wallpapering. (…) One would really have to be such an important economist as Professor Schumpeter to completely fall for the magic formula that ‘a crown is a crown’.).
24 Marija Wakounig, Konsumverhalten des Wiener Bürgertums im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert, in: Jahrbuch des Vereins für Geschichte der Stadt Wien 44/45, 1989, pp. 154–86, here p. 174.
25 Stefan Zweig, Die Welt von Gestern. Erinnerungen eines Europäers (Frankfurt/M. 1970).
26 Arnold Madlé, Die Bezüge der öffentlichen Angestellten. In: Julius Bunzel (ed.), Geldentwertung und Stabilisierung in ihren Einflüssen auf die soziale Entwicklung in Österreich (Schriften des Vereins für Sozialpolitik 169, Munich – Leipzig 1925), pp. 131–136. As a comparison, workers and employees received around 75 per cent of their real pre-war wages in 1925.
27 Siegfried Strakosch, Der Selbstmord eines Volkes. Wirtschaft in Österreich, Wien – Leipzig – Munich, 1922, p. 50 f.
28 Franz Haber, Österreichs Wirtschaftsbilanz. Ein Vergleich mit der Vorkriegszeit, Munich 1928, p. 95.
29 Strakosch, Selbstmord, p. 110.
30 Ernst Bruckmüller, Sozialstruktur und Sozialpolitik, in: Erika Weinzierl – Kurt Skalnik (eds.), Österreich 1918 – 1938, vol., 1, here pp. 406–407.
31 Bruckmüller, Sozialstruktur und Sozialpolitik, p. 406.
32 Alexander Spitzmüller, “...und hat auch Ursach, es zu lieben.” Vienna – Munich – Stuttgart – Zürich 1955, p. 71.
33 On the Creditanstalt crisis: Spitzmüller, as well as Dieter Stiefel, Finanz-diplomatie und Weltwirtschaftskrise. Die Krise der Creditanstalt für Handel und Gewerbe, Frankfurt/M. 1989. On the application of the enabling act for the war economy, cf. Peter Huemer, Sektionschef Rudolf Hecht und die Zerstörung der Demokratie in Österreich, Vienna 1975.
34 Spitzmüller, ibid., p. 371 ff.
35 Hans Loewenfeld-Russ, Im Kampf gegen den Hunger. Aus den Erinnerungen des Staatssekretärs für Volksernährung 1918–1920, Isabella Ackerl (ed.), Vienna 1986, p. 331 ff.
36 Exemplary for the banking sector: Peter Melichar, Neuordnung im Bankwesen. Die NS-Maßnahmen und die Problematik der Restitution (Veröffentlichungen der Österreichischen Historikerkommission. Vermögensentzug während der NS-Zeit sowie Rückstellungen und Entschädigungen seit 1945 in Österreich, vol. 11, Vienna – Munich 2004); Peter Eigner – Peter Melichar, Enteignungen und Säuberungen – Die österreichischen Banken im Nationalsozialismus, in: Dieter Ziegler (ed.), Banken und “Arisierungen” in Mitteleuropa während des Nationalsozialismus (Geld und Kapital, Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft für mitteleuropäische Banken- und Sparkassengeschichte, Alois Mosser, Alice Teichova, Richard Tilly (eds.), 2001, Stuttgart 2002, pp. 43–118.
Fundamental Principles of the Civil Society
Which Trends Do We Need to Protect Ourselves Against?
Werner J. Patzelt
Summary: A civil society of the Western style is not achieved once and for all. A civil society can only develop when – and for as long as – its complex cultural prerequisites exist. In addition, there are several trends that are currently endangering the civil society. As has so often been the case in history, political thought and speech are now subjected to rather strict regulations and restraints. These are guaranteed by creating taboos, and censorship imposed by oneself or others, as well as the social exclusion and condemnation of dissidents.
1. Fundamentals of a Western-style civil society
It is often the case that, when one is looking for insights that are beneficial for the present time, it is a good idea to dwell on some thoughts from the past. If these still seem plausible today, they contain lessons that have remained valid. One of the core statements in the dialogue by the Roman politician and intellectual Marcus Tullius Cicero (106–43 BC) “De re publica” fulfils this in our search for the fundamentals of a civil society: “Est […] res publica res populi, populus autem non omnis hominum coetus quoquo modo congregatus, sed coetus multitudinis iuris consensu et utilitatis communione sociatus.” Translated into English in a way that suits our purpose, this means: “The civil society is an affair of the people; however, they should not be understood as a group that has come together in one way or another, but as the collaboration of many such groups that become connected to form a society through their agreement to uniting regulations, as well as common benefits.” The principles of a civil society understood in this manner include rules that are followed jointly, as well as experiences of common benefits arising out of actions in keeping with these rules. The benefit is the common good.
Cicero’s concept is based on one of the central concepts of the Greek polymath Aristotle (384–322 BC). With the Greek city state – the polis – in mind, he spoke of the kononia politiké, the citizenry united by binding law, and binding ethics that – precisely through the acceptance and performance of public offices – aimed at a “good life” for all. Of course, neither Aristotle nor Cicero thought about equal rights for men and women. They also found the status of a slave without rights completely normal. However, restrictions of this kind, which we find intolerable today, can be shaken off without changing anything about the core concept of this kind of political vision: Self-aware citizens do not only take care of their own interests – in Greek: of tà idia, which makes them “idiots”. They also care for the interests of the community they belong to: for the common good of a polis as “politai”, and as “cives” for the common good of a “civitas”, a “res publica”.
Naturally, what we are referring to here could be described as a “civil society”. However, this term has become somewhat stale through its Marxist connotation. There, the “bourgeoisie” follows the feudal lords as a class and precedes the “civil” society of the socialist style. That is the reason that the German term “Zivilgesellschaft”, which emulates the French and English expressions of “société civile” and “civil society”, has been in use for many decades. Nevertheless, the Germanised concept of the “Zivilgesellschaft” also includes comparisons such as “civilised vs. barbaric” and “civil vs. military”. The first is absolutely reasonable, seeing that regulations, complete with their orientation on the common good, actually create important boundaries to a barbaric law of the jungle based on self-interest. The second comparison, on the other hand, is in no way appropriate. The politai of a Greek popular assembly, who practised democracy (rule by the people) were actually none other than the men of this civil society who were capable of – or had experience in – war. Indeed, in the most important form of Roman-republican popular assemblies, the – purely male – citizenry appeared in a military formation, albeit without weapons, in the so-called centuriate assemblies. It was precisely in this sense that, when the right to vote was introduced in the 19th century, it was accompanied by the expansion of compulsory military service – modelled on the “levée en masse” of the self-defensive French Revolution. Germany’s first Federal President called conscription the “legitimate child of democracy” and the model of the “citizen in uniform” was developed for soldiers. It is obvious that examples of this kind fade in societies in which the following formulation became common – and which is even legally incontestable in Germany: “Soldiers are murderers”. In times of peace, which seem to be natural, it might be possible to understand and even treasure this separation between soldiery and citizenship. However, peace is like summertime in that it is often followed by a stormy period in autumn.
2. Intellectual challenges facing Western civil societies
In the meantime, another apparently self-evident fact has become fragile. This is the differentiation and contrast between the civil and religious community. This was not characteristic of antiquity and the early modern era but has definitely shaped our concept of a civil society since the Enlightenment. In the Western world, this concept of the civil society was preceded by the Christian dualism between “secular” and “religious” rule. After reciprocal, absolutely painful, disputes since the Enlightenment, the concept that – although it had been shaped by the Christianity it dialectically opposed – the Western state no longer had any need for genuinely practised Christianity to be able to develop itself as a “societas perfecta” in the sense of the Greek polis. Of course, the Western state, complete with the civil society supporting it, continued to live precisely in those conditions that had been moulded by Christianity and that it would be unable to reproduce – let alone create anew – itself. Going beyond the individual argumentative purpose – “transcending” it – these conditions include the justification for those rights to protection and freedom that have the common denominator of “human dignity”. For their part, these rights require a liberal, democratic, and social constitutional state to remain guaranteed. But as long as there is no lack of Christian, or functionally equal, prerequisites for this kind of formation of a civil society and its state, the secular state in the Western tradition only needs some kind of civil religion to give expression to its moral foundations and, ultimately, perception of sense not only discursively, but also symbolically – and, therefore, appealing to the emotions – as well as stabilising socially in this way. This religion must not necessarily be Christianity as long as it is possible to make “human dignity” the key element of social and political order convincingly.
But now there are extremely influential alternatives to the formerly Christian character of a (civil) religion that unites individuals to form a nation. In particular, there is very special alternative in those Western states that have a large Muslim minority in their population. Members of this group often also – or even above all – feel that they are part of an Islamic culture spanning many societies and states. However, precisely this culture, which dates back to late antiquity, did not produce the Western state and the society that supports it, but, in many cases, even expressed its opposition to both. What is important in Islam is not the contraposition of the “state” and “church”, or a dualism of “politics” and “religion”. It is much more a matter of the relationship between “Dar al-Islam” and “Umma”. The latter is – completely corresponding to the Christian church as an “assembly of believers before God” – the community of Muslims. On the other hand, the Dar al-Salam – which can be translated as “house of peace”, in contrast to the “house of war (Dar al-Harb) – refers solely to that part of the world that has really already been pacified: namely, through the establishment of precisely these rules, both politically and as a form of state. A “societas perfecta” is therefore not possible in the orthodox thought of Islamic culture on the basis of any civil religion but only there where religious Muslims, who have been guided in the right direction, govern. It is therefore a matter – for the sake of peace – not only of the religious character of an individual society and its state, but of the questionable legitimacy of a special path of those societies and states that precisely do not allow themselves to be guided by Islam in which, however, Muslims live permanently.
Viewed in such contexts, the very concept of a society that is understood in a non-religious manner, as has become customary in Western cultures, seems subversive for Muslim societies and is regarded as an act of aggression by more than a few Muslims. This, in turn, is ascribed not only to the different intellectual foundations of secular-Western and religious-Islamic societies but also to the diminishing supremacy of the West that humbled and deeply damaged the “ethically superior” world of Islam. In this way, political religion becomes directly linked to political power struggles and revenge.
Acting on the foundations of civil society today, therefore, demands having arguments that are – or could, at least, become – compatible with internal debates on Islamic self-understanding. By the way, when considering China’s rise to become a dominant global power, it should be remembered that, in the future, Western ideas of a civil society will also find themselves in competition with completely different East-Asian convictions on the just relationship between the state and the people living in it. However, these combine well-established insights into traditional Chinese statecraft, which were only slipped into the once-fashionable garb of Communism, with such new possibilities of governance based on modern technology relating more to scientific data and “harmonising” social control than on trying to cultivate the willingness of a self-determined citizenry to participate. Whether a political model of this kind is inferior or superior to the Western version must be treated as an open question. The desired answer can only be provided if one’s own efforts to bring about or secure a really “good life” are reinforced through sustainable, successful politics.
In any case, civil society of the Western variety is not something that can be achieved once and for all. Anyway, it can only come about as soon as – and for as long as – its complex cultural requirements are satisfied. But, even then, it remains threatened by anti-pluralist currents regardless of their origin and goals. It can only counter the allure of ideological righteousness, and the willingness to believe in religion, with cumbersome considerations about the fact that being open to criticism is what makes learning possible, and that all historical examples of politics founded on a specific claim to truth are terrifying. A civil society can also threaten itself. This occurs especially when those civil-religious formulas and civil-liturgical practices, which guarantee the stability of the civil society through symbols appealing to feelings, are used tactically and instrumentally to defend current cultural-hegemonic positions against new competition. That is when communication-hygienic rules of political correctness develop into quasi-religious taboos, concern about the preservation of civil liberty becomes political witchcraft, and securing equal rights for all leads to a new caste structure separating the “decent” from the “evil”. In essence, these are precisely the new internal trends in our Western civil societies that, in the meantime, are impairing all the opportunities that a form of pluralism that flourished for many years granted us. For the sake of the wider common good, we should therefore attempt to better understand – and apply more honestly – those rules which, in the West, have so frequently turned selfish individuals and self-righteously competing groups into a public-spirited civil society that takes an active part in its community.
3. Indispensable rules for a civil society
How is it possible to keep a society and its state permanently capable of learning, to be able to adapt to new internal and external challenges and, in this way, realise the common good time after time? The best possible answer seems to be: As long as there is no emergency requiring immediate action, one must initiate unloaded discourse about – real or hypothetical – problems, organise open-ended debates about the causal connections of problems, and make social disputes about solutions possible. Only after all of this has taken place should decisions about what to do next be made. These, in turn, are best designed as majority decisions, because this is precisely the way to create pressure for the widest possible consideration of various opinions and interests. Of course, the majority principle established in this way also includes the protection of minorities. And this political approach has to go hand in hand with a basic attitude of always being ready to start learning anew.
The name given to a political system operating according to these kinds of rules is pluralistic democracy. Among its characteristics are a willingness to accept, and even revere, diversity – not only in matters of skin colour, but also political opinions; acknowledging the right of the individual to define his interests independently and responsibly as a matter of course – and there, especially those that one objects to oneself; and the legitimacy of dispute – even when one is at risk of losing the argument. It is also important for pluralistic democracy that the area that can be disputed, without the parties risking social ostracism, be kept as broad as possible. On the other hand, the areas that are not open to question should be kept as small as possible. It is a fact that dictatorial regimes and their subservient societies are characterised by the minimisation of what can, and the great increase in what cannot, be questioned. This ranges from the dominant role of a single party to the law of God directly influencing politics.
The name given to the “non-dispute” area of a pluralistic democracy is “minimal consensus” and it is made up of three partial consensuses. There is the consensus of values that is principally composed of the consensus that everyone has the same human rights, including that of being different from others in terms of appearance, sexual orientation, religion, and political leanings. Then there is procedural consensus. It includes non-violence and the majority principle, together with the protection of minorities. Non-violence is an especially important aspect. Intimidation through the threat of violence, the anticipation of violence, and violence itself reduce the diversity of viewpoints and interests that are freely brought into the dispute. This is precisely what reduces the opportunities for learning in and through dispute and this deprives a pluralistic democracy of its central advantage. And there is finally regulatory consensus; for example, a consensus that demonstrations on the street are allowable, but that final decisions will be made in parliaments or by the courts. Shaping a state in a way that there can be disputes about as many topics as possible and that, as a result, the ability of politics and society to learn is optimised, is the “highly effectual secret” of pluralistic democracy and the great advantage of functioning civil society.
An additional, extremely special, value of this kind of society is that it is possible to criticise those in power and the existing conditions, and that it does not demand the affirmation, the justification or defence, of what already exists. It is much more the case that, in a pluralistic democracy, the citizenry always takes a critical stance towards any claims that somebody or something is right because that is the way it has always been – going beyond the minimal value, procedural, and regulatory consensus. However, criticism is more than just emotional grumbling. The demonstration of standards for judgement, complete with their rational justification, and likewise the assessment of those already existing based on the same standards, which claim to be logically correct, are also part of this. In other words: Pluralistic democracy is strengthened through rational criticism, not through the emotional defence of existing conditions.
These rules of the game of pluralistic democracy are based on experiences made by trial and error in designing political systems and the societies supporting them. Ultimately, they integrate the “algorithm of evolution” into political practice. However, when all we know about the development of complex systems, from biology, over culture, and into the world of institutions, is taken into consideration, this is really the best possible way for guaranteeing the ability to learn and efficiently coupling systems with their environment. The four steps of the evolutionary algorithm are variation, selection, retention, and as differential reproduction, which looks like this in society and politics: A wide variation of perspectives, priorities, proposed solutions, and self-evident actions required for solving new problems arises through the practical use of the right to diversity, as well as the fear-free articulation of opinions and interests, in continuous controversial discourses. This then leads to an internal selection from the variety offered; i.e., that which is not appropriate to the existing system of pluralistic democracy with its proven routines, or does not fit into the current discoursal structure, is dismissed. This kind of internal selection is carried out in a sensible manner based on a minimal consensus on human rights, non-violence, the principle of majority, and protection of minorities, as well as tried and tested organisational structures. This is followed by the external selection in such a way that not all of those political measures that have been agreed on in pluralistic discourse – with or without a majority decision being reached – will prove themselves in political practice. It is a fact – and this is especially true in politics, which usually acts under conditions of uncertainty – that the path to be followed hardly ever leads to learning from, at best, “well-intentioned” attempts, from inevitable errors and political corrections. Retention then means the preservation of what has proven itself – in the interim or often just until further notice. This can later develop into a component of the internal selection factors that prefilter whatever will actually be tried out in praxis.
Two basic political attitudes usually come into play when dealing with internal selection factors. Conservatives attempt to be guided by what is already tried and tested, while progressives want to experiment with new things, especially under new conditions. Both are really necessary if political structures are to remain stable over the long term and maintainable if the contexts around them change. If the latter fails, there is the danger of slipping into a fragile form of statehood and, in the worst case, into a state of civil war and anomie. However, if it is possible to preserve what is fundamentally time-proven through reforms, structures of this kind can expand even further; for example, institutions such as the rule of law, separation of powers, and periodic elections can take the place of their authoritarian alternatives in an increasing number of countries. That is precisely what is meant by “differential reproduction” as the concluding step in the evolutionary algorithm. It is clear that this kind of differential reproduction forms the foundation of the global expansion of the democratic system elements that have taken place over several “waves of democracy”.
Seeing that the conditions for political action are repeatedly changing, and that it is necessary to deal with new challenges from time to time, it is sensible to attempt to not bring this “algorithm of evolution” to a standstill – especially in the state and the civil society that supports it. But that is exactly what happens when attempts are made to protect things or structures that are taken for granted through subtle threats – or even crass use – of violence against people who question what already exists and expect changes. Damage to the foundation of a civil society and its state therefore begins with the avoidance, suppression, or disruption of controversial discourses. Unfortunately, conservative concepts and structures all too often become an irresistible political temptation for those who, for the time being, exercise political-cultural hegemony, benefit from the prevailing situation, and are, therefore, satisfied with the status quo and – in spite of new challenges – act in a purely affirmative manner, i.e., not critically rational as would correspond with the utilisation of the algorithm of evolution.
4. Radicalism as an acceptable ferment; extremism as a poison to be eradicated
A radical is a person who gets to the bottom of things, develops an argument until it is absurd, drives a thesis to the utmost exaggeration, and represents a position without any sense of proportion. Radicalism is therefore equally disturbing to moderates and conservatives – and that can even be good and desirable. It is precisely radicalism that drives discourse and political projects forward and presses for those innovations that moderates and conservatives are only too happy to avoid. However, two things are essential if radicalism is not to endanger a discourse-open system. First, rules are necessary that tie radical argumentation to the imperative of logic, radical activity to the leash of non-violence, and radical politics to the chain of the rule of law. Second, it is to be desired that each form of radicalism has its counterforce, and each thesis its antithesis. That is precisely when a dialectic of progress based on trial and error can have the greatest effect.
When all of that is given, radicalism – the risk game of an open society as it were – may develop fruitfully as a ferment of social change. For example, it exists in the form of left or right radicalism, religious or anti-religious radicalism, and there is also a radicalism of liberty, equality, and justice. If, however, there is a lack of either effective rules of the game in radical discourse, or of counterforces to radical positions – and conservatism is an essential component here – radicalism can also become a threat to an open society. It would be likely to drift apart, become polarised, and end in disputes that could go as far as civil war. A stable order, on the other hand, is not only able to tolerate radicalism but also profit from it – especially if conservatives have strong arguments. Put briefly: Although many are disturbed by radicalism, it can do good; although radicalism can be ruthlessly stupid, its fundamental attitude is not reprehensible.
Extremism is a completely different matter. An extremist is a person who – for whatever reasons and no matter where – works towards the eradication of a liberal democratic basic order. According to the famous formulation given by the German Federal Constitutional Court in 1952, this is an order “that, by excluding any form of violence or arbitrary rule, represents a rule of law founded on the self-determination of the people according to the will of the respective majority and liberty and equality. The following, at least, must be counted as belonging to the fundamental principles of this order: respect for the human rights concretised in the constitution, especially the right of the individual to life and free development, popular sovereignty, the separation of powers, the responsibility of the government, the legality of the administration, the independence of the courts, the multi-party principle and equal opportunities for all political parties with the right to form and exercise an opposition in keeping with the constitution.”
Anyone who aims at doing away with this order – for the sake of human dignity or liberty – must be fought against; and that not only going as far as to forbid his political organisation or the forfeiture of his basic rights, but going even further, and using armed force if necessary, as expressly approved in Article 20.4 of the German Constitution. On the other hand, a person whose aim is not to eliminate the liberal democratic basic order, but only do away with individual regulations or institutions of a liberal, democratic state is simply a dissident, or a radical at most, who has got on the wrong track. A person of this kind can only be approached with the normal means of political discussion.
In this context, in its ruling on the prohibition of the German Communist Party, the Federal Constitutional Court expressly stated that a party, and a political position in particular, “is not unconstitutional if it rejects individual positions, or even entire institutions, of the Constitution. Rather it must reject the highest values of constitutional order, the fundamental constitutional principles, which make the constitutional order free and democratic, principles on which, at least, all parties must agree if this kind of democracy is to function meaningfully at all… [A party or political position is] also not unconstitutional if it does not recognise these highest principles of a free democratic basic order, rejects them or counters them with others. Rather, there must be an active, combative, aggressive attitude towards the existing order; it must deliberately impair the functioning of this order and, in the further course, wish to eliminate this order itself. This means that the liberal-democratic state does not act against parties with aims that are hostile to it of its own accord, but merely defends itself from attacks on its basic order. This legal construction of the elements of an offence rules out abuse of the provision in the service of zealous persecution of inconvenient opposition parties.”
The reasons a person or group has for fighting the liberal democratic basic order, or their political aims, are completely irrelevant for determining extremism if the criteria mentioned above are used. However, it serves to provide desirable information if, for example, right-wing or left-wing extremism, Islamist extremism, or “middle-class extremism” is spoken about. But the use of such a term can never take the place of investigating whether those labelled as extremists really plan to attack and eliminate the free basic order, which is recognisable by its clear criteria. By the way, when assessing the ethical and political worthlessness of opposition of this kind, the source of the motives for extremism is completely irrelevant: whether they come from the middle of society, from the upper or lower classes, from the left, or from the right, or from another edge of the political spectrum does not play a role. This is because extremism always attacks everything that makes a pluralistic democracy possible and so advantageous as an embodiment of political order.
5. Current trends threatening the civil society
It can unfortunately no longer be taken for granted that open public dispute is not only legally possible, but that it is also guaranteed that everyone can represent an opinion in every situation and without fear of being threatened with violence. As has happened so often throughout history, there are now rather strict regulations and restrictions governing political thought and speech. They are assured by creating taboos, censure by oneself or others, as well as the ostracism and condemnation of dissenters. Starting points for the use of political force can always be found along such enforced criteria of political correctness. Their forms begin inconspicuously but soon reach ugly levels of escalation. They are all the more frightening, seeing that political violence is often motivated by unquestionably good intentions.
A starting point for many manifestations of violence that endangers freedom is that one reacts to political positions that one does not like with a kind of “political arachnophobia”. Disgusted and – genuinely or supposedly – driven by fear, the troublemaker is attacked with words and whistles, or other means, although he is generally only aggravating and not really dangerous. Many are motivated to use this kind of behaviour because they feel that grim situations they are aware of from history are looming up on the horizon; that is why they are determined to “nip it in the bud”. This reaction unfolds particularly easily whenever a connection can be made between somebody with a different opinion and National Socialism. It is then usually the case that communication is ruled out and forms of exclusion practiced that, in turn, make use of some subtle – and some very crude – techniques of the use of force.
The techniques employed to ostracise dissidents begin with refusal to question one’s own mindset and not even wanting to attempt to comprehend those connections that are so important to the person with a different opinion. This kind of ostracism goes further when it is considered a sign of special competence to be able to “explain away” everything that has caused the dissident to take his political position. One can make fun of “obviously unfounded” fears or pass them off as being “merely a pretext” – and portray the “real reasons” in appropriately dark colours. It is possible to achieve even more if the opponent is deprived of important terms, or if their use in the public sphere has been prevented or made slightly scandalous by setting “limits to what can be said”. This is intended to show that the distinctions and evaluations that are important for those who think differently can only be put forward against directly expressed contradiction – showing that the opponent is wrong through his choice of words alone.
The next stage of ostracism is reached when it becomes possible to attach labels to the opponent that show that somebody is really a “bad person”. The best way to begin is by judging him to be a “notorious troublemaker” or “political diehard”. A “strategic context formation” of this kind is particularly effective in Germany if it is possible to describe somebody as a “right-wing populist”, “fascist”, or – really popular in recent times – as a “racist”. And, in case the person is not directly recognisable as being evil, speaking of the “extremism of the middle” that the person to be outcast personifies, usually helps. It can also be particularly practical if it is possible to portray the marginalised person as being the incarnation of type that is dangerous to the general public. In that case, the demand for exclusion is no longer specifically directed against a fellow human being, who might even be likeable under different circumstances, or his particular actions, but simply against evil and its embodiment in the enemy. This makes it possible to assert one’s own moral superiority that can no longer be refuted for all practical purposes.
It is highly plausible that anybody who has been branded as being a “latent Nazi” or “populist” will be deprived of any possibilities for public appearances. You cannot provide a platform for a right-wing radical or racist; he can therefore no longer participate in talk shows on an equal footing – and, naturally, also not on discussion podiums and rostrums. The result of this kind of process reaches perfection as soon as the dissident not only shows weakness that justify his exclusion, but also reacts to such pressure by accepting his role as an outsider and, full of defiance, proves himself to be increasingly wrong.
The ostracism can go even further. The aim is to bring the dissident before a “virtual court” – for example, to “finish him off” on a talk show and then post the relevant video clip on the internet. It might even be possible to pin an investigation by the public prosecutor on him; there must be something behind it! The goal has been reached when the person who is to be rejected is regarded as “not to be taken seriously”, when he is no longer seen as a “trustworthy expert” – and maybe not even an “acceptable fellow citizen”. And the exclusion reaches the desired conclusion when the opponent withdraws from the public sphere. In a dictatorship, he might be incarcerated, exiled, admitted to a psychiatric institution, or possibly even murdered.
All of these steps can be rounded of perfectly with schadenfreude towards the “bad guys” and with self-celebratory symbolic actions by the “heroes”. This becomes particularly effective when this schadenfreude is not only accompanied by serious threats, but when these are put into practice in an exemplary fashion: from preventing public speeches to rededicating cakes to be used as accusatory projectiles, from discourse-preventing chants and throwing stones at demonstrations to attacks on offices, vehicles, and people. All of these activities have now become a mutual practice that damages an existing civil society from within and undermines the foundations of its pluralistic democracy.
6. Lessons to be heeded
It will only be possible to enjoy the advantages of a civil society as long as desirable argumentativeness or radicality does not result in violence, or the respective opponent – even if he is a radical – is not confronted with violence. That makes it absolutely essential to accept and adhere to the following rules. First, violence that is against the law must be categorically rejected – regardless of who it is aimed at, and independent of all motives except self-defence and in an emergency. Police action must be taken against any actually executed violence. Second, violence is to be rejected even more strongly as a means of internal politics – this also applies to violence in the form of intimidation although it might still be within the framework of law. Concern about the consequences of substandard politics or indignation about the arrogance of the political opponent never justify violence or the threat of it.
We would be well advised to not only draw up such principles for the functioning of a civil society in the abstract, but also to consider their concrete consequences, and take them to heart in practice. That is why we should attempt to relate these principles to the issues of immigration and integration, which will definitely remain with us for some time to come, and – specifically – to the recurring attacks on refugees and their accommodation. Although this example is substitutable, it is particularly instructive in the present situation. No matter how radical the political disagreement, it must be handled in this way: It is unjust to come down on civil-war refugees and asylum seekers, foreigners living in the country, and fellow citizens with a different appearance, just because one is dissatisfied with the deficiencies in migration and integration policies.
This makes refugee and asylum seekers’ accommodations absolutely the wrong places to protest against migration and integration policies. It is deplorable to try to get attention by organising demonstrations of this kind in places where those people, who can do nothing at all about the conflict that needs to be fought out in a country, become the target of aggression. It is also unjust to translate concerns and indignation resulting from the inadequacies and flaws in immigration and integration policies into hostility against overtaxed mayors and district executives, and even against those police officers who have to maintain public order and secure the rights of everybody to demonstrate under such difficult circumstances. And the fact that somebody looks different or has been socialised by a culture different from one’s own does not in any way justify belittling or despising others and treating them accordingly. Anyone who does this, anyone who acts in a racist manner, has a damaged moral compass or bad character. And anyone who – despite willingness to engage in a dialogue – cannot be won over to humane coexistence must, quite simply, be excluded from the acceptable political discourse.
Put in a nutshell: For the sake of the continued existence of a civil society and its pluralistic democracy, it is necessary to fight violent radicals and all extremists – then, thanks to the self-evident assertion of non-violence, one will be able to afford the radicality that is so important for political educability and make the pluralistic democracy especially educable in this way. Of course, this is a complex view, and often an emotionally difficult attitude. However, without accepting the necessary intellectual and emotional costs, it will quite simply be impossible to benefit from the great value of the civil society and its pluralistic democracy.
The Phenomenology of the Civil Society
Manfred Prisching
Summary: There is no single civil society – there are only civil societies in the plural. There are numerous, different phenomena, entities, groups, institutions, mental attitudes, and activities collected under this label. The heterogeneity of the concept of the “civil society” creates difficulties, seeing that the institutional can conflict with the normative localisation; the organisation with the mental attitude. One thing is certain: It is not possible to protect, generate, guarantee, or develop community spirit through institutional measures. However, it is possible for institutions that allow, make possible, promote, and strengthen private activities to grow through community spirit. There can, therefore, be no civil society without citizens.
I intend to approach the matter using a linguistic-empirical method. The vocabulary employed to speak about the phenomenon that is described as the civil society or civic society (van den Brink et al. 1995; Jessen et al. 2004) includes the following concepts: active participation, commitment, legitimation, social resource, participation practice, dialogue (among the administration, politics and the citizenry), projects, public benefit, general welfare, volunteer work, responsibility, citizenship, social responsibility, associations and unions, federations and foundations, philanthropy, sponsorship, democratic public opinion, locality, fragmentation, basis activity, self-organisation, self-regulation, activation, protest, criticism, democracy, publicity, and social capital. Factual and normative, descriptive and desired, institutional, ideal, and practical phenomena are described in this way and, not so rarely, all in a muddle. Jürgen Kocka says, “There are social-science concepts that spread like epidemics, that degenerate into slogans of political rhetoric, and whose upsurge is purchased through fuzziness” (Kocka et al. 2001, p. 4). That does not sound good. But Kocka continues, “On the other hand, you have to ask yourself what makes the concept [civil society] so attractive. Protesters in Prague, Warsaw, and Budapest rediscovered it in the 1980s and made it the core of their indictment of the Communist dictatorships in their countries. The concept had already started to play a certain role in the politico-scientific discussion in Latin America and South Africa. Communitarian and liberal authors in the West soon started to resort to the concept when they took a stand for minority groups or economic deregulation, against the alleged domination of the patronising state. In the left camp, the concept was used to claim the right to public space as a medium for democratic self-fulfilment and to stress the rights of the self-determining society of discussing, responsible citizens against the constraints of the apparatuses of the market and state” (Kocka et al. 2001, p. 4). This shows that there are completely different contexts (and probably also different contextual accentuations) connected with the civil or civic society. We are the people. We are community. We are the entrepreneurial society. We are “the” society. We are the critical. We are democracy. But here we notice some contradictions. The concept can imply being left in peace or actively participating. It means the private or public sphere. It entails the free market or is non-market. It alludes to political involvement or distance from the state. Hans Joas formulated it in this way: “Which social forces can assure that the market and state, as the two dominating mechanisms of modern socialisation, can be relativised and modified by a third principle so that we are not faced with the alternative of either simply passively accepting the consequences of unregulated market activities or, conversely, relying exclusively on intervention by the state to overcome them with the risk of a stifling bureaucratisation of social life?”1
The civil society or civic society2 is usually spoken of in a positive way, the concept (similar to “democracy”) augmented with all desirabilities, even though the real phenomena that are labelled in this way are completely different. There is a loose connection with a conceptual world that has been tagged the bourgeois society (comprising the moyenne and haute bourgeoisie, educated middle classes, and a bourgeois lifestyle) (Riedel 2004); however, seeing that this society has faded away, the content of the concept has also shifted even though the aftereffects of the formerly effective attitude can still be felt. The concept is nuanced in a variety of ways internationally, and there are also historical shifts. Certain discussions – such as the debate on communitarianism – blanket themselves with the concepts.
First of all, this indicates that: There is no civil society – there are only civil societies in the plural. Numerous, different phenomena, entities, groups, institutions, mental attitudes, and activities are collected under this label. It is difficult to compare a voluntary fire brigade with the squatters occupying an autonomous centre, the Caritas and Volkshilfe social organisations with populist groups from the right, university professors who sit on the advisory board of their institution with the members of a village choral society or the uprising in Belarus with demonstrations by the AfD (Alternative for Germany) in the West. Beatrix von Storch (AfD) also actually made use of the term in her criticism of the migrants’ riots in 2020: “If injunctions forbidding entering public squares and streets on weekends are issued, as happened in Frankfurt, we will lose our struggle for the public space in Germany. That is the beginning of the end of a free civil society.”3
Even if one makes an attempt to only compile a list of the various concept-clusters, one notices that the variants of the concept of the “civil society” are always twofold: positive contextual definition and negative distinction, force and counterforce, stance and anti-stance. If one makes a mental effort to amalgamate all of the central elements, the result is a – albeit somewhat hazy – contour of a civil society in the singular. We will now take a look at the ambivalences of the term and then probe the conceptual meaning.
Ambivalences
The heterogeneity of the concept of the civil society creates difficulties because the institutional can collide with the normative localisation, the organisation with the mental attitude. In the simplest case, the institutional localisation would mean the third sector, outside of the market and state. Normative localisation (or the “mental attitude” of the civil society, if you prefer) is more challenging, but a certain “ideological substance” is part of it.
As a concrete example, the institutional perspective focuses on organisations that aim to integrate refugees; there are also xenophobic associations that follow the opposite targets. There are protest marches by those in favour of, as well as those opposing, democracy. There are demonstrations for and against President Erdogan. The actual cases of the conflicts in Belarus are “a chance for the civil society”4 or “NGOs and the Civil Society in Belarus.”5 The EU has established a fund “with the intention of supporting the Belarussian civil society:”6 If one follows the institutional concept, it is only natural that mosque-based associations that preach fundamentalism and hatred, and construct parallel societies, must also be included under the concept of civil society. That conflicts with the positive association we connect with the term. We would prefer not to count Ku Klux Klan marches in the USA and groups with a similar mindset as manifestations of an “honourable” civil society. However, if we exclude the disagreeable phenomena of the late-modern world from this concept, it becomes nothing more than a profession of sympathy: Activities that one feels close to are part of it, while one would prefer to reject those that one regards with indignation.
This leads us to “mindset”. Obviously, only understanding the manifestations of the civil society institutionally does not go far enough; it is much more the case that their institutional categorisation must be linked to a normative, judgemental, ideological component. As one example: The civil society is not simply a phenomenon of the third sector (outside of the market and state) but is also necessarily connected with an attitude that gives the market and state the appropriate place, while simultaneously demonstrating a special regard for self-organised groups of the civil society outside of the market and state. Then, the civil or civic society is not only seen as a stopgap whose actors take care of refugees and guarantee caritative services because – scandalously – the state does not do this in an appropriate or sufficient way, as it actually should; much more, activities of this kind are held in high esteem. In this case, the normative components are included in the term.
Jürgen Kocka addresses all of the mentioned elements in his definition: “‘Civil society’ means […] a plan for human cohabitation, which originated in the Age of Enlightenment and has since been frequently changed and still continues to be changed. The concept is defined in different ways, in various constellations, against different opponents for the given situation, and by different spokespeople. Certainly, there was great variability in the level and kind of realisation of this plan, and there still is. […] As a rule, it can be said: A high degree of social self-organisation belongs to the ‘civil society’; e.g., in associations, societies, and movements, with the corresponding resources such as communication possibilities, education, and trust. The ‘civil society’ also includes legitimate diversity, controlled conflicts, and a specific approach to violence: restraining, containing, and minimising it. ‘Civil society’ incorporates a culture of civility encompassing respect for tolerance, independence, and performance, as well as a willingness for personal involvement and collectively transcending purely personal goals” (Kocka et al. 2001, p. 10). If we follow this definition, we can create a “packet” that limits the all too arbitrary use of the term “civil” or “civic society”. I will use six keywords to investigate this heterogeneous field.
1. The moderate state
The civil society is sympathetic to – but mistrustful of – the state. It stresses life outside of state regulation and supervision. This is aimed at the third sector: Civil society is an antithesis to the expansive, all-inclusive, omnipresent state, and also opposes a comprehensive market-form organisation. The society was once proportionally “larger” (compared with the market and state) (Polanyi 1977). Markets have expanded in modern times and the state has developed into a powerful regulatory instance. A remnant remains after the separation of the two forms of the market and the state – this is the “private” society that is so difficult to define: the independent, everyday life of the people. However, it does not only mean “private privacy”, the routine in one’s own kitchen, and not petit bourgeois cosiness: Civil society assumes the differentiation between the private and public spheres, and the view of “public privacy” is also part of the conceptual meaning. Watching a crime series on television or pruning the trees in one’s garden does not fall under the concept of “civil society”, but it does apply to showing an interest in public affairs, being elected to the parish council, or demonstrating for better environmental policies.
The late modern era is (with Western – and especially European – states in mind) a rich, even luxurious, society and the comforts enjoyed by those living in such a structure have not only contributed to the dynamics of industrial development, but also to the constructive performance of the modern state structure. The state’s apparatuses have accomplished impressive feats, especially when one observes the European achievements of the systems of the social market economic model; this also applies when a comparison is made with other prosperous countries such as the United States. Their proven efficiency has not only led to more and more services being planned for them, but also to an increasing overestimation of this efficiency. A mindset has become widespread: If there is a problem, there must be an administrative political solution. Under these conditions, problems of any type do not trigger the involvement of the citizens to actively roll up their sleeves, but to ask about the responsible authority and appropriate forms. The state is a problem-solving entity. The public can lean back. Although there is no intention to question the efficiency of the state, the belief in the civil society is linked with the notion that – first of all – individuals are considered to be responsible for finding a solution to their problems, especially when they are petty matters.
In the long run, the attitude of handing over all problems to the “service centre” of the state leads to individual incapacitation. Tocqueville already described that in a famous passage – and nothing has changed. There is no need to dramatise this as the dawning of a dictatorship; it has more to do with the evaluation of the voters’ diminishing feelings of obligation and self-efficacy. The feeling of being responsible, or accountable, for anything at all is slipping away. Faced with the lack of any kind of limiting criteria, state paternalism leads to the all-encompassing competence of the state (Hennis et al. 1977). There are some interpretations that include this as a programmatic claim because they want to have all problems eliminated through intervention by the state. However, over time, the insinuation of the state being responsible for – and capable of – everything leads to a disgruntled perspective. In view of the overestimation of politics, it is thought that villains or idiots must be responsible for preventing a positive outcome if the state has difficulties in solving problems.
“The civil society provides the elixir of life of freedom; its creative chaos of associations gives people a chance to live their lives without having to beg from the state or other powers. The concept that probably sums all of this up the best is […] the status of being a citizen (Dahrendorf 1992b, p. 559). This means being independent, taking responsibility, and participating. Some problems can be handed over to the civil society to solve without the necessity of state authorities becoming involved. This is because the general competence of the state cannot be had free of charge. That is why the tax burden is steadily increasing, and – seeing that too little money is flowing into the state’s coffers – the state’s debt burden is also on the rise. On the other hand, a high national debt decreases the resistance to crises. In no way is it only inefficiency that leads to half of the value added being siphoned off in some countries, but also its undefined, expanding field of competence. With the allocation of duties and activities to the third sector, the paradigm of the civil society would see a lesser necessity for entrusting an increasing part of the social income to the state. Handing over substantial resources to the state that then redistributes them is referred to as the allowance society.
The civil society reminds one that it is fundamentally the public of a liberal-democratic order that is able to organise its own life; that there are personal initiatives that do not have to give way to the lethargy they have stirred; that state systems are actually rather efficient; that it is, first and foremost, the self-trust of the individual that is appealed to, and not only trust in security systems that make the life of the individual snug, comfortable, riskless, and boring. However, the “bourgeois society” was once the bearer of the “civil society” and, faced with the dissolution of this experiential space, some have the radical impression that: “the civil society has come to an end.”7 There are still a few new variants, such as the species of the “enraged citizen” (Hessel 2011): Middle-class people who also want to take part in the hefty abuse of politicians once in their lives, or elder intellectuals who verbally concentrate their frustration over no longer being able to play a significant role. As simple resentment phenomena, they are all hardly helpful in promoting a democratic order.
The civil society is therefore a term that implies both dissociation and localisation. It relates to structures in the social “private” sphere that are employed against state bodies or market institutions. Civil society is the third sector: non-state and non-market. The civil society is not the state police, but crisis invention teams that are usually voluntary; the civil society is not the state hospital, but it is the Red Cross; the civil society includes charity foundations and interest-related workers’ associations, scholarship programmes for needy students, student leagues and sports clubs, civic initiatives, Freemasons, environmental groups, and women’s projects. A description given by the German Federal Office for Political Education (BPB) states, “Civil society is the world of private initiatives, associations, colleagues, friends, and neighbours. It is considered the ‘third sector’ alongside the economy and politics.”8 It can include a cellar theatre that is able to support itself financially, an adult education centre that transmits the knowledge that universities have turned their backs on, free meals for the needy that are not provided by the state, and a self-help group that offers a platform where people can report on their own experiences and offer consolation to each other.
However, demands are sometimes made (to the political entities) that give rise to doubts that the bodies that present themselves as civil-society institutions actually want to exist as distanced from the state as described above. For example, on its home page, the “Stiftung Bildung” (Foundation for Education) demands a “Ministry for the Civil Society”, a central committee in the Bundestag, the appropriate service centres in the communities, a legal right to leave of absence for social work, as well as pay for the period of involvement, core funding by the state for all civil-society organisations, and the provision of inner urban space for the civil society.9 It is quite clear that an ideology of this kind expects the state to provide everything. However, a nationalised civil society is not a civil society.
2. Areas of freedom
The concept of the civil society should address and guarantee those freedoms that undermine and eliminate the control and surveillance state (in good or bad faith). It is therefore necessary to take a closer look at new technologies, seeing that recent observations have revealed that a connection has developed between civil or civic societies and social platforms and other electronic facilities. The net provides the organisational support for a wide range of civil-society activities.
It is especially the case in a complex society like ours that the almost comprehensive responsibility of the state requires all-inclusive information, all-inclusive regulatory systems, and all-inclusive controls. The digital age provides the range of technical instruments necessary for the expansion of state controls. This does not happen under the perspective of control, but also of care; not under the perspective of information collecting to allow the state to intervene on all levels, but under that of helping its citizens; not under the perspective of suppression, but under that of eliminating danger. This also includes positive categories that provide help and legitimation to the expansion of state activities: increase in efficiency, provision of services, and accuracy. Even Vladimir Putin only wants to “fight terrorists”. And Xi Jinping merely wants to “educate” the Uighurs. Each camera serves to fight criminality and each electronic health card serves to provide a better diagnosis (and there is really nothing wrong with that).
It is necessary to know a lot about the people – also about the individual – in order to provide the most suitable “help”. It is necessary to use technical apparatuses to be able to feel as they do, to be of service. (Marketing experts have always known that. But “empathy” is full of preconditions and includes information in a pluralised world.) From this perspective, it is the technical-state control systems – much more than one’s fellow man – that represent true empathy; and it is necessary to trust the state if this is to be achieved. Of course, a perspective of this kind makes strong inroads into everyday behaviour going as far as the physicality of a person. One example: If it is possible for any teacher to use cameras, facial recognition, and emotional analysis to produce a daily balance that analyses the extent to which he or she was able to hold the attention of the greatest possible number of students, and it can be shown how many students lost concentration or were bored for how many minutes during the course of the morning, surveillance has already progressed to the extent that one can no longer banish it from one’s own thoughts (Mau 2017). This is because one is aware that one’s behaviour is being observed, recorded, and judged every minute of the day. “Private” behaviour is subjected to precise calculations and, in this way, ceases to be “private”. One is always “on stage”. One has to consider every blink of the eye one makes. That really does not sound very much like freedom. This permanent observation is not without consequence. There is no need to deal any further with the classical accusations that the omnipotence of a control state also concerns political behaviour, initiatives, and movements. Knowledge of this kind in the hands of political authorities might be considered principally harmless in Central European regions; however, it should be borne in mind that democracies can also “topple” into a condition that requires a certain amount of interpretive effort to be described as a “well-formed democracy” as the example of the United States shows. Knowledge about the population is much less harmless in Turkey or Belarus. In contrast, the civil society is devoted to a liberal mindset that insists on good reasons for the state becoming involved in private life. It is a notion that sees a wide section of society as a territory that is not under the control of politics and bureaucracy.
For the time being, the comprehensive information about the individual’s behaviour that exists in Western-democratic societies is mainly used as a resource for marketing purposes. There is no need to consider each recommendation that the individual comes to appreciate as a consumer as some form of tricky manipulation – intelligent marketing, which knows its audience (as groups or individuals), actually makes offers that correspond with the consumers’ preferences. It is possible to get this information in a harmless way: “People who bought X were also interested in Y”; however, this can also be based on individual profiling on the basis of previous activities, or can represent targeted actions that result from comprehensive individual tracking of internet activities. Everybody knows what Google and Amazon do and they are still used by most people because they are useful and convenient – they have reached the implicit decision that the benefits outweigh the disadvantages. But some uneasiness still remains. In a comprehensive study, the Bertelsmann Foundation announced: “In order to master the digital change successfully, we need a strong, involved civil society.”10 That is probably accurate, but it is still formulated very generally. It is increasingly true that more information is being collected, but the comparatively harmless unease that marketing activities trigger can be used for completely different purposes at any time by totalitarian regimes. In the relevant situation, any kind of expression of opinion can be construed as insulting the president, ridiculing the state, being blasphemous, or showing that the person making these statements is preparing terrorist activities or belongs to a criminal organisation, and can be used for criminal offences. There are countries in this world in which any deviation from the official government opinion can be regarded as a criminally relevant statement. (These strategies are more elegant than Novichok.) In spite of what was naively believed at the start, the internet is not only an instrument for the civil society, suitable to be used for organising anti-authoritarian protests and basis-democratic assemblies, but also an instrument that can be used for the opposite purpose: for the control and suppression of the electorate and civil society. American employers can ask for applicants to provide access to their confidential internet profiles11 – that is where one can really feel the absolute limit in the deprivatisation of the private.
The dynamic-destructive potential of electronic network possibilities has revealed itself over the course of the corona developments. It has been a source of long lists of conspiracy theories – some of them fraudulent, and others, dangerous – tips, offers, and interpretations (Hepfer 2015; Meyer 2018). This is the area where mask opponents and other asocial actors get together, and it also provides those bubbles in which the anti-immunisation lobby and others encourage each other in their craziness. The concepts of the civil society and civic society have long found their way into the language of all kinds of special interest groups. Even if it is only a matter of a few thousand bizarre characters with the desire of making the world aware of their observations of angels and aliens, or their feelings about Soros and Gates, it is commonly conceived that they are speaking as representatives of the civil society. It is not sure whether liberal democracy will survive the internet or whether it will be eroded and ultimately destroyed by it.
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