Usually only those writers can be called Marxists who, as members of a Marxian party, are obliged to indicate approval in their writings of the Marxian doctrines as canon­ized by party conventions. Their scholarship can be no more than “scholasticism.” Their writings aim at preserving the “purity” of the true doctrine, and their proofs consist of quotations from authorities—in the final analysis Marx and Engels. Again and again they conclude that “bourgeois” science has completely collapsed, and that truth can be sought only in Marxism. Every piece of writing then closes with the reassuring remark that in the future socialistic par­adise all social problems will find a very satisfactory solution.

These Marxian writings are significant only inasmuch as they have promoted the careers of their authors. They have nothing whatsoever to do with science, and, as shall be shown, not even with German science that is so greatly in­fluenced by the doctrines of Marx. Not a single thought has emerged from the voluminous writings of the epigones. Nothing remains but horrible waste and incessant repeti­tion. The great struggles that shook the Marxian parties—on revisionism, dictatorship, et cetera—were not scientific; they were purely political discussions. The scientific methods used to conduct them were wholly barren in the eyes of every nonscholastic. Only Marx and Engels, not one of their epigones, have affected German science.

During the 1870s and 1880s State and Chair Socialism came to power in Germany. Classical economics had left the stage. The Austrians, scorned as eccentrics, were the only writers who contributed to modern economics, which, like Western sociology,* at first remained wholly unknown. Be­sides, both were suspected of Manchesterism. Only histori­cal and descriptive-statistical compositions were permissi­ble, and a “social” conviction, i.e., Socialism of the Chair, was the most important requirement for scholarly recogni­tion. In spite of, and perhaps because of, this affinity, the Socialists of the Chair opposed Social Democracy. They barely paid attention to Marx and Engels, who were consid­ered too “doctrinaire.”

This began to change when a new generation came along, pupils of the men who, in 1872, had founded the Associa­tion for Social Policy. This generation had never been ex­posed to university lectures on theoretical economics. It knew the classical economists by name only and was con­vinced that they had been vanquished by Schmoller. Very few had ever read or even seen the works of Ricardo or Mill. But they had to read Marx and Engels, which became all the more necessary as they had to cope with the growing Social Democracy. They were writing books in order to refute Marx. As a result of such efforts, they themselves, and their readers, fell under the influence of Marxian ideas. Because of their ignorance in all economic and sociological theory, they were utterly defenseless against the doctrines of Marx. They rejected the harshest political demands of Marx and Engels, but adopted the theories in milder form.

This Marxism of the pupils soon reacted on the teachers. In his article “Economy, Economics and Economic Method,”2 Schmoller mentions that Jevons “correctly” said of Ricardo that “he put the wagon of political economy on the wrong track.” With visible satisfaction Schmoller then adds that Hasbach observed that “it was the very track which the English bourgeoisie wanted to take.” For a long time during the fight of the German Historical School against the narrow-mindedness of Ricardo, Schmoller contin­ues “many followers of the old school” believed they were walking in the methodological footsteps of Adam Smith. Thus many were not aware “that their theories had become narrow class doctrines.”3 Socialism, according to Schmoller, can be denied “neither justification for existence nor some good effects.” “Born as a philosophy of social misery, it rep­resents a branch of science that suits the interests of work­ers, in the same way as the post-Adam Smith natural phi­losophy had become a theory serving the interests of capitalists.”4

We can clearly see how strongly Marxian notions have permeated Schmoller’s ideas of the historical development of economic systems. They are even stronger with Lexis, whose interest theory, according to Engels, is “merely a paraphrase of that of Marx.”5 Böhm-Bawerk, who agreed with this Engels judgment, observed (in 1900) that Dietzel’s and Stolzmann’s interest theories are also closely related to Lexis’ opinion, and that we often encounter similar thoughts and pronouncements in contemporary economic literature as well. It seems to be “a trend of thought that is coming into fashion.”6

In economics, this fashion did not last too long. For the generation of men who had been the pupils of the founders of the younger Historical School, Marx was the economic theorist par excellence. But when some pupils of these pu­pils began to turn their attention to the problems of theoreti­cal economics, Marx’s reputation as a theorist quickly van­ished. Finally, the achievements of theoretical economics abroad and in Austria during the last two decades were rec­ognized in Germany; and it was seen how small and insig­nificant a position Marx occupies in the history of eco­nomics.

However, the influence of Marxism on German sociology has continued to grow. In sociology, more so than in eco­nomics, the Germans ignored the achievements of the West. As they began rather late to deal with sociological problems they knew only one ideology: the Marxian philosophy of history and the doctrine of class warfare. It became the start­ing point for German sociological thought and, through the problems it posed, greatly influenced even those writers who strove to reject it most vigorously. The majority did not repudiate the doctrine itself, but merely its political and practical consequences. In most cases they characterized the Marxian doctrine either as exaggerated, or going too far, or too one-sided, and therefore sought to complete it by add­ing new racial and nationalistic doctrines. The basic insuffi­ciency of the Marxian set of problems and the failure of all attempts at solving them were not seen at all. They em­barked upon historical research into the origin of the Marxian social philosophy, but ignored those few possibly de­fensible thoughts earlier elaborated much more concisely in France and England by such men as Taine and Buckle. Moreover, their main interest then focused upon a problem utterly insignificant for science—the famous doctrine of the “withering away” of the state. In this case, as with many of their other doctrines, Marx and Engels merely meant to find a slogan for agitation. On the one hand they wanted to fight anarchism, and on the other hand they sought to demon­strate that the “nationalization” of the means of production demanded by socialism had nothing in common with the nationalization and municipalization demanded by state and municipal socialism. It was understandable from the po[i]nt of view of party politics that the etatist critique of Marxism aimed especially at this point. It seemed so invit­ing to reveal the inner contradiction of the Marxian social doctrine, and to confront “the enemies of the state,” Marx and Engels, with a believer in the state, Lassalle.7

The fact that German science had rejected the utilitarian social doctrine of the eighteenth century explains the suc­cess of Marxian social doctrine in Germany.

The theological-metaphysical social doctrine explains and postulates society from a point of view that lies beyond hu­man experience. God, or “nature,” or an objective value, want society in a certain form to reach a desired destiny. Man must follow this command. It is assumed that submis­sion to the social body imposes sacrifices on the individual, for which he will receive no compensation other than the awareness that he has acted well, and perhaps will be re­warded in another world. The theological doctrines and some metaphysical doctrines trust that providence will guide willing men on their proper paths, and force the recalcitrants through blessed men or institutions acting on behalf of the reigning God.

Individualism opposes such a social doctrine. It demands to know from both the religious and the metaphysical posi­tions why the individual is to be sacrificed to society. The ensuing argument that touches the foundation of the theo­logical-metaphysical social philosophy, corresponds to the distinction so popular in Germany between the collectivistic (universalistic) social doctrine and the individualistic doc­trine.8 But it is a crucial mistake to believe that this classifi­cation has made room for all conceivable social doctrines. It has especially failed to affect modern social philosophy that was built on eighteenth century utilitarianism.

The utilitarian social doctrine does not engage in meta­physics, but takes as its point of departure the established fact that all living beings affirm their will to live and grow. The higher productivity of labor performed in division of la­bor, when compared with isolated action, is ever more unit­ing individuals to association. Society is division and asso­ciation of labor. In the final analysis, there is no conflict of interest between society and the individual, as everyone can pursue his interests more efficiently in society than in isola­tion. The sacrifices the individual makes to society are merely temporary, surrendering a small advantage in order to attain a greater one. This is the essence of the often cited doctrine of the harmony of interests.

The etatistic and socialistic critique never understood the “preestablished harmony” of the free trade school from Smith to Bastiat. Its theological appearance is not essential for the doctrine. Utilitarian sociology seeks to explain the development of society since man’s presumably hermitic ex­istence in prehistoric times, or since his less developed cooperation in known history. It seeks to explain man’s so­cial ties throughout history, and hopefully his future prog­ress toward association, from principles that are active in each individual. In accordance with teleological considera­tions, association is thought to be “good” and laudable. A faithful soul seeking an understanding of social develop­ment views the principle of association as a wise arrange­ment of God. It could not be different: goodness, namely, the division of labor now and in the future, emanates from human nature. It follows that the division of labor is a good means in view of its good results, even if from different points of view it should be viewed as evil, weak, or defi­cient. To Adam Smith, even the weakness of man was not “without its utility.” And he concludes: “Every part of na­ture, when attentively surveyed, equally demonstrates the providential care of its Author; and we may admire the wis­dom and goodness of God even in the weakness and folly of men.”9 Obviously, the theistic tone is only an appen­dage, which could readily be replaced by the term “nature,” as Smith does in other passages of his book where he speaks of “the great Director of Nature” or just of “nature.” The so­cial doctrines of Smith and Kant do not differ in basic atti­tudes and views. Kant, too, tries to explain how “nature” guides man to the goal it has set for him. The only difference between Smith and Kant consists of the fact that Smith has succeeded in reducing the formation of society to factors whose presence in man can be proven empirically, while Kant can explain society only through an assumption of man’s “inclination” to associate and a second inclination to disassociate, from the antagonism of which society emerges. How it does so is not elaborated.10

Every teleological view can be dressed in a theistic garb without any change in its scientific character. For instance, Darwin’s doctrine of natural selection can easily be pre­sented in such a way that the struggle for survival becomes a wise arrangement by the Creator for the development of species. And every teleological view reveals harmonies to us, that is, how that which stands at the end of the develop­ment process emerges from the acting forces. The fact that the conditions cooperate harmoniously only signifies that they lead to the effect we are to explain. If we desist from calling a given state of affairs “good,” all tenets of the doc­trine stay intact. The explanation of how a certain state “nec­essarily” had to result from given conditions that cannot be analyzed further, is independent of how we may value this state. The attacks on the thought of “preestablished har­mony” do not touch the substance, merely the wording, of the utilitarian social theory.

Without change in substance, the social doctrine of Marx­ism, too, can be understood as one announcing a preestab­lished harmony. The dialectics of social reality necessarily lead the way from the primeval world to the goal, the social­istic paradise. The unsatisfactory part of this doctrine is its content; the wording again is unimportant.

The opponents of utilitarian social theory like to taunt it for its “rationalism.” But every scientific explanation is ra­tionalistic. Whatever the human mind cannot comprehend, the tools of science cannot conquer. This criticism often ig­nores the fact that liberal social theory does not explain formation and progress of social ties and institutions as con­sciously aimed human efforts toward the formation of soci­eties, as the naive versions of the contract theory explain them. It views social organizations “as the unconsidered result of specific individual efforts of the members of soci­ety.”11

The misunderstanding that prevails with regard to the harmony doctrine is repeated in a different form regarding property. We can either hold to the opinion that the private property order is the superior form of social organization— that is, we can be liberals—or we can believe that the public property order is superior—that is, we can be socialists. But he who adheres to the former embraces the doctrine that the private property order serves the interests of all members of society, not just those of owners.12

We proceed from the position that there are no insoluble conflicts of interest within the private property order, even to the recognition that warlike behavior becomes rarer as the scope and intensity of social association grows. Wars, foreign and domestic (revolutions, civil wars), are more likely to be avoided the closer the division of labor binds men. The belligerent creature, man, becomes industrial, the “hero” becomes a “trader.” The democratic institutions serve to eliminate violent action within the state, as they seek to maintain or achieve agreement between the wills of those who govern and those who are governed.

In contrast to the utilitarians who believe that the private property order assures greater labor productivity, the older socialists were convinced that it was the public property system that could bring higher productivity, which necessi­tated the abolition of the private property order. We must distinguish this utilitarian socialism from the socialism that takes as its starting point a theistic or metaphysical social theory, and that demands a command system because it is more suited to realize empirically unproven values which society is to adopt.

The socialism of Marx fundamentally differs from these two varieties of socialism, which he calls “utopian.” To be sure, Marx also assumes that the socialistic method of pro­duction yields higher labor productivity than the private property order. But he denies that a solidarity of interest exists or has ever existed in society. A solidarity of interest, according to Marx, can exist only within each class. But a conflict of interest exists between the classes, which ex­plains why the history of all societies has been a history of class wars.

Conflict is the moving force of social development to yet another group of social doctrines. For those doctrines the war of races and nations constitute the basic law of society.

The common error of both groups of warfare sociology is their disregard of any principle of association. They en­deavor to show why there must be war between the classes, races, and nations. But they neglect to show why there is, or can be, peace and cooperation between the classes, races, and nations. The reason for this negligence is not difficult to detect. It is impossible to demonstrate a principle of asso­ciation that exists within a collective group only, and that is inoperative beyond it. If war and strife are the driving force of all social development, why should this be true for classes, races, and nations only, and not for war among all individuals? If we take this warfare sociology to its logical conclusion we arrive at no social doctrine at all, but at “a theory of unsociability.”13

None of this could be understood in Germany, Hungary, and the Slavic countries because of a basic hostility toward all utilitarian thought right from the start. Because modern sociology is based on utilitarianism and the doctrine of the division of labor, it was rejected summarily. This is the main reason for the reluctance of German scholars to cope with sociology, and for the struggle they waged so tena­ciously for decades against sociology as a science. Since sociology was not welcome, a substitute had to be found. De­pending on their political position they adopted one of the two “theories of unsociability” which emphasized the war­fare principle, and completely bypassed any search for a principle of association.

This scientific situation explains the success Marxian so­ciology was able to achieve in Germany and in the East. When compared with the doctrines of racial and national warfare it had the advantage of offering, at least for the dis­tant future, a social order with a coherent principle of as­sociation. Its answer was ever so much more acceptable because it was optimistic and more satisfactory for some readers than those doctrines which offered nothing in his­tory but a hopeless struggle of a noble race against a suprem­acy of inferior races. He who sought to go even further in his optimism and was less exacting scientifically, found the solution to the conflict not just in the socialistic paradise of the future, but already in the “social kingdom.”

Marxism thus swayed German thought in sociology and philosophy of history.

Popular German sociology adopted, above all, the class concept that is so basic to Marxian sociology. Spann cor­rectly observed: “Today, even so-called middle-class econo­mists are using the term ‘class’ in such a way and in connec­tion with such questions as are raised by the historical materialism of Marx.”14 Adoption of this concept was ac­companied by the Marx and Engels characteristics of uncer­tainty, vagueness, and obscurity, further echoed by the Social-Democrat and Communist parties. During the thirty-five years between the publication of the Communist Manifesto and his death, Marx did not succeed in somehow defining the concept of class struggle more precisely. And it is significant that the posthumous manuscript of the third volume of Das Kapital halts abruptly at the very place that was to deal with classes. Since his death more than forty years have passed, and the class struggle has become the cornerstone of modern German sociology. And yet we con­tinue to await its scientific definition and delineation. No less vague are the concepts of class interests, class condition, and class war, and the ideas on the relationship between conditions, class interests, and class ideology.

For Marx and his parties, the interests of the individual classes are irreconcilably opposed to each other. Each class knows precisely what its class interests are and how to real­ize them. Therefore, there can only be warfare, or at best an armistice. The thought that some circumstances may call an end to the struggle before the socialistic bliss is realized, or that circumstances may moderate it, is rejected summarily. There is no greater entity that could encompass the classes and dissolve the class conflicts. The ideas of fatherland, na­tion, race, and humanity are mere disguises for the only real fact, which is the class conflict. However, popular sociology does not go so far. It could be as Marx describes it, but it need not be so, and above all, it should not be that way. Self­ish class interests must be set aside in order to serve the interests of nation, fatherland, state. And the state, as a principle of reason above the classes, as realization of the idea of justice, must intervene and bring about a social con­dition in which the ownership class is prevented from ex­ploiting the nonowners, so that the class struggle of prole­tarians against owners becomes superfluous.

With the doctrine of class warfare, German etatist sociolo­gists adopted the most important part of the Marxian philos­ophy of history. To them, the British parliamentary system with all its democratic institutions, of which liberal doctrine is singing praises, are mere expressions of the class suprem­acy of the bourgeoisie. As the Germans interpret contempo­rary British history, the British state and its instutitions are more reprehensible for being capitalistic and plutocratic. The British concept of liberty is contrasted with the German concept. They view the great French revolution and the movements of the 1830s and 1840s as class movements of the bourgeoisie. The fact that the principalities prevailed over the 1848 rebels in Germany is hailed as most fortunate, as it paved the way for the social rule of the Hohenzollern kai­sers standing above classes and parties. To German etatists and Marxists, the modern imperialism of the allied powers springs from the capitalistic propensity to expand. The etat­ists also adopted a good part of the Marxian superstructure theory when they depicted classical economics as a hand­maiden of the class interests of entrepreneurs and the bour­geoisie. An example given above illustrates how this ap­plied even to Schmoller.

It should be noted that no critical examination preceeded the adoption of the basic Marxian doctrines. The attention of etatists was directed primarily at blunting the Marxian at­tack on the state ideology and its political offshoots during Prussian leadership in Germany, and at rendering the Marxian doctrines useful for the ideas of state socialism and con­servatism. Etatists did not see the Marxian problem as a scientific problem, but as a political, or at best, an economic problem. In politics they contented themselves with charg­ing Marxism with exaggerations, and sought to demonstrate that there is yet another solution, indeed, a better solution: social reform. Their main attack on Marxism did not aim at its economic program, but at its political program: it placed class interests above national interests.

Only a few comprehended that the problems raised by Marxism were scientific in nature. Sombart was one of the first who as continuator, renovator, and reformer set out to reshape the Marxian doctrines. His new work, which af­forded me the occasion for this essay, provides me with the opportunity to deal with him in detail.

Dependence on Marx is the special characteristic of Ger­man social sciences. Surely Marxism has left its traces as well on the social thinking of France, Great Britain, the United States, the Scandinavian countries, and the Nether­lands. But the influence that emanated from Marxian doc­trines was incomparably greater in Germany. The fact that the sociology of utilitarianism was generally rejected in Ger­many undoubtedly offers an explanation for this great in­fluence.15 In Italy also, the influence of Marxism was rather significant, although not so strong as in Germany. But in Eastern Europe, in Hungary, and in the Slavic countries, it was even greater than in Germany—that is, it was greater in countries that completely depended on German thought in spite of their political hostility. Marxism had swayed Russian social thought, that is, not only the thinking of the followers of the revolutionary parties openly fighting czar­ism, but also the imperial Russian universities. Altschul, the translator of Gelesnoff’s Fundamental Economics, cor­rectly observed in his preface to the German edition, “In no other country did Marx’s economic doctrines invade univer­sity teaching so quickly and influence it so significantly as in Russia.”16 In its hatred of liberalism and democracy czarism itself paved the way for the Bolshevist ideology through its promotion of Marxism.

• *Translator’s note: In this essay, the author still used the term sociology for what he later called praxeology, the general theory of human action.
• 2Schmoller, “Volkswirtschaft, Volkswirtschaftslehre und -methode” [Economy, economics and economic method], Handwörterbuch der Staatswissenschaften [Hand­book of social sciences], 3rd ed., vol. VIII, p. 426.
• 3Ibid., p. 443.
• 4Ibid., p. 445.
• 5F. Engels, Vorrede zum III, Band des “Kapitals” [Preface to vol. 3 of Das Kapital], 3rd ed., Hamburg, 1911, p. xii et seq.
• 6Einige strittige Fragen der Kapitalstheorie [Some disputed ques­tions of capital and interest], Vienna, 1900, p. 111 et seq.; also on Brentano, cf. O. Spann, Der wahre Staat [The true state], Leipzig, 1923, p. 141 et seq.
• 7See B. H. Kelsen, Sozialismus und Staat [Socialism and state], 2nd ed., Leipzig, 1923.
• 8See Dietzel, “Individualismus,” in Handwörterbuch, 4th ed., ch. V. p. 408 et seq. A. Pribram, Die Entstehung der individualistichen Sozialphilosophie [The develop­ment of individualistic social philosophy], Leipzig, 1912, p. 1 et seq. For a critique of this view, see L. von Wiese, “Dietzel’s ‘Individualism’ “in Kölner Vierteljahrs­hefte für Sozialwissenschaften [Cologne quarterly for social sciences], Munich and Leipzig, vol. II, 1922, p. 54 et seq.
• 9A. Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Edinburgh, 1813, pt. II, sec. III, ch. III, p. 243. [American edition: The Theory of Moral Sentiments (Indianapolis: Liberty Classics, 1976), p. 195.]
• 10See Kant, “Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in weltbürgerlicher Absicht” [Ideas on a general history from a cosmopolitan view], Collected Works, Insel ed., Leipzig, vol. I, p. 227 et seq.
• 11Menger, Untersuchungen über die Methode der Sozialwissenschaften [Inquiries into the methods of social sciences], Leipzig, 1883, p. 178. [English-language edi­tion: Problems of Economics and Sociology (Urbana, Ill.: University of Illinois Press, 1963).] F. v. Wieser’s critique of the rationalistic-utilitarian doctrine in general, and of Menger’s formulation in particular, leaves its substance untouched (See Wieser, Theorie der gesellschaftlichen Wirtschaft [Theory of social economics], Tübingen, 1914, sec. I, p. 242 et seq.). Its significance lies in its distinction between leader and masses—probably under the influence of Tarde—and in its greater emphasis on the principle of heterogeneity of objectives—as Wundt called it.
• 12See A. Smith, op. cit., pt. IV, ch. I, p. 417 et seq. [American edition: p. 297 et seq.]
• 13Die Philosophie der Geschichte als Soziologie [The philosophy of history as sociology], 3rd ed., Leipzig, 1922, p. 260.
• 14O. Spann, “Klasse und Stand” [Class and estate], Handwörterbuch, 4th ed., vol. V. p. 692.
• 15If in the United States the influence of the antiutilitarians (e.g., that of Veblen) should spread, Marxism, too, will spread with all its consequences.
• 16Gelesnoff, Grundzüge der Volkswirtschaftslehre [Fundamental economics], Leip­zig, 1918, p. iii.

Marxian socialism is beckoning: “Class war, not national war!” It is proclaiming: “Never again [imperialistic] war.” But it is adding in thought: “Civil war forever, revolution.”

National socialism is beckoning: “National unity! Peace among classes!” And it is adding in thought: “War on the foreign enemy!”17

These solutions distill the ideas which are dividing the German nation into two hostile camps.

The great political problem of Germany is the national one. It appears in three different forms: as the problem of the linguistically mixed territories at the borders of German settlement in Europe, as the problem of German emigration (a creation of German settlements overseas), and as the problem of foreign trade that must provide the material support for the German population.

Marxism did not see these problems at all. It could say only that in the socialistic paradise of the future there will be no national struggle. “National hatred is transformed class hatred,” its holder is “the middle class,” its beneficiary the “bourgeoisie,” proclaim the party literati.18 How could there be national conflicts after class distinctions and exploitation have been abolished?

The national problem is a world political problem, the greatest world problem in the foreseeable future. It concerns all nations, not just the German nation. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when the English and French formulated modern political doctrines, it had a different meaning for them than it has today. The first civilized country for which the national problem became important in its present form was Germany. It should have been the task of German political theory to deal with it and find a solution through practical politics. The British and French did not know all those problems of nationalism for which the formula of national self-determination does not suffice. German politics did face these problems for decades, and should have met the challenge by finding a solution. But German theory and practice could only proclaim the principle of force and struggle. Its application isolated the German nation from the world, and led to its defeat in the Great War.

Where the areas in which the German people settled meet with those occupied by the Danes, Lithuanians, Poles, Czechs, Hungarians, Croats, Slovaks, Italians, and French, the population borders are not clearly marked out. In wide sections the peoples are mixed, and individual linguistic islands, especially urban centers, reach far into foreign areas. Here the formula of “self-determination of nations” no longer suffices. For here are national minorities who fall under foreign rule if the majority principle determines political government. If the state is a liberal state under the rule of law, merely protecting the property and personal safety of its citizens, the alien rule is less palpable. It is felt more keenly the more society is governed, the more the state becomes a welfare state, the more etatism and socialism gain a footing.

For the German nation a violent solution to the problem is least satisfactory. If Germany, a nation surrounded by other nations in the heart of Europe, were to assault in accordance with this principle, it would invite a coalition of all its neighbors into a world-political constellation: enemies all around. In such a situation Germany could find only one ally: Russia, which is facing hostility by Poles, Lithuanians, Hungarians, and possibly Czechs, but nowhere stands in direct conflict with German interests. Since Bolshevist Russia, like Czarist Russia, only knows force in dealing with other nations, it is already seeking the friendship of German nationalism. German Anti-Marxism and Russian Super-Marxism are not too far apart. But various attempts at reconciling German Anti-Marxian nationalism with the Anti-Marxian nationalism of Fascist Italy must fail in dealing with South Tirol, just as a reconciliation of Hungarian chauvinism must fail in dealing with the West-Hungarian problem.

A violent solution to the question of border Germans would be less acceptable for the German nation itself than for its neighbors, even if there were prospects for its realization. In fact, Germany, even if victorious on all sides, would need to be prepared for war at any time, would have to brace itself for another war of submission through starvation, and would have to prepare its economy for such an eventuality. This would impose a burden which, in the long run, could not be borne without serious consequences.

The trade problem, which Germany needed to solve during the nineteenth century, grew from a worldwide shifting of production to areas with more favorable production conditions. If there had been complete freedom of movement, a part of the German population would have emigrated, for German agriculture and some branches of industry could no longer compete with newly opened, more fertile countries offering more favorable production conditions. For national political reasons Germany sought to prevent this emigration through tariff policies. We cannot elaborate here why this attempt was doomed to failure.19

The migration problem is the third form of the practical political problem for Germany. Germany lacks territory for its excess population. And again, the prewar theory of German nationalism discovered no better solution than violence through conquest of suitable territory.

In Europe, tens of millions of people live poorly who would do much better in America and Australia. The difference in the living conditions between a European and his descendants overseas continues to grow. European emigrants could find overseas what their native countries failed to offer: a place at the banquet of nature. But they are too late. The descendants of those who, one, two, or three generations ago chose the New World over Europe, do not welcome them. The organized laborers of the United States and the British Commonwealth countries permit no addition of new competitors. Their labor union movement is not aimed at employers, as the Marxian doctrine prescribes; they are waging their “class war” against European workers whose immigration would reduce the marginal productivity of labor, and thus wage rates. The labor unions of the Anglo-Saxon countries favored participation in the Great War in order to eliminate the last remnants of the liberal doctrine of free movement and migration of labor. This was their war objective, which they adhered to completely. Countless Germans living abroad were uprooted, deprived of their possessions and earnings, and “repatriated.” Today, strict laws either prohibit or limit immigration not only to the United States, but even to important European areas. And the labor unions of the United States and Australia unhesitatingly would favor a new, more horrible and bloody world war if it should become necessary to defend the immigration restrictions against an aggressor, such as the Japanese or a rearmed Germany.

Here are insurmountable difficulties for the Marxian doctrines and the policy of the Communist International. Theorists sought to escape the difficulties by not mentioning them. It is characteristic that the copious prewar German literature on economic and social policy, which again and again dealt with the same matter in tiring detail, contains no work that could explain the policy of immigration restrictions. And abroad only a few writers dared touch a topic that obviously did not harmonize with the doctrine of the workers’ class solidarity.20 This silence, better than anything else, reveals the Marxian bias in social literature, especially German literature. When, finally, the international conventions of socialists could no longer escape dealing with this question, they skillfully circumvented it. Let us, for instance, read the minutes of the International Convention of Socialists in Stuttgart, in 1907. It adopted a lame resolution characterized by the recorder himself as rather “awkward and hard.” But this should be blamed on circumstances. A socialistic convention is not held “to write novels. Hard realities are colliding, which finds expression in this hard and awkward resolution.” (This is a euphemistic way of admitting that something is wrong with the harmonious thoughts of the international solidarity of workers.) The writer therefore recommends that “this resolution so painfully constructed on the middle of the road be adopted unanimously.” But the Australian representative Kröner crisply declared, “The majority of the Australian Labor Party opposes the immigration of colored workers. As a socialist, I personally recognize the duty of international solidarity and hope that in time we shall succeed in winning all nations of the world for the idea of socialism.”21 Translated from the Australian to English it means: Make as many resolutions as you please; we shall do as we please. Since the Labor Party has come to power, Australia, as is well known, has the strictest immigration laws against colored and white workers.

The nationalistic Anti-Marxists of Germany could perform a great service by solving the emigration problem. The German mind could develop a new doctrine of universal freedom and free movement that would evoke an echo with Italians, Scandinavians, Slavs, Chinese, and Japanese, and which in the long run no nation could resist. But no beginning has yet been made of what needs to be done, and surely nothing has been accomplished.

National Anti-Marxism proved to be unproductive in the very point on which its greatest emphasis must be placed: the problem of foreign policy. Its program for the integration of the German nation in the world economy and world policy does not basically differ from the precept of German policy in recent decades. In fact, it does not differ from recent policy more than any theoretical doctrine differs from the realities faced by the statesman who is kept from his intended course by his daily tasks. But a violent solution is even less applicable today than it was in prewar Germany. Even a victorious Germany would be powerless to face the real problems of the German nation. In the present state of world affairs, Germany could never prevail over the opposing national interests of other nations, that is, it could not acquire overseas territory for German settlement and open up favorable markets for German industry. Above all, it could never be safe from a resumption of the war by a new coalition of enemies.

National Anti-Marxism is failing as well in providing suitable German policy for pressing present problems. In their struggle against forced integration, the German minorities in foreign countries must demand the most comprehensive democracy because only self-government can protect them from losing their German identity. They must demand full economic freedom because every intervention in the hands of the foreign state becomes a means of discrimination against the German population.22 But how can the German population in the border territories fight for democracy and economic freedom if the Reich itself conducts a contrary policy?

National Anti-Marxism has also failed on scientific grounds. The fact that the Marxian theories of value and distribution have lost their prestige is not the achievement of Anti-Marxism, but that of the Austrian School, especially Böhm-Bawerk’s critique which the young friends of theoretical economics in Germany could no longer overlook. Surely, the attempts by some writers to confer prestige on Marx as a philosopher have little prospect for success, because, after all, philosophical knowledge in Germany has reached a level that makes scholars somewhat immune to the naivetés of the “philosophy” of Marx, Dietzgen, Vorländer, and Max Adler. However, in the field of sociology the categories and thoughts of Marxian materialism continue to spread. Here, Anti-Marxism could have solved an important task; but it was content with attacking those final conclusions of Marxism that appeared to be objectionable politically, without refuting its foundation and replacing it with a comprehensive doctrine. It had to fail, because for political reasons it sought to show that Marxism is animated by the spirit of the West, that it is an offspring of individualism—a concept alien to German character.

The very starting point is fallacious. We already mentioned that it is not permissible to contrast the universalistic (collectivistic) with the individualistic (nominalistic) systems of social doctrine and policy, as set forth by Dietzel and Pribram, and now advocated by Spann with his nationalistic German Anti-Marxism. It is also erroneous to view Marxian socialism as the successor to the liberal democracy of the first half of the nineteenth century. The connection between the socialism of Marx and Lassalle and the early democratic program was rather superficial, and was discarded as serving no further purpose as soon as the Marxian parties came to power. Socialism is no improvement over liberalism; it is its enemy. It is illogical to deduce a similarity of the two from an opposition to both.

Marxism does not spring from Western thought. As mentioned above, it failed to find followers in Western countries because it could not overcome the utilitarian sociology. The greatest difference between German ideas and those of the West is the great influence of Marxian thought in Germany. And German thought will not be able to overcome Marxism until it sheds its hostility toward British, French, and American sociology. To be sure, it cannot just adopt the sociology of the West, but it must continue and build anew on its foundation.

• 17We must not search for ideas of national socialism just within the National So­cialist Party, which is merely a part—in questions of party tactics an especially radical part—of the greater movement of national socialism that comprises all people’s parties. The most eminent literary spokesmen for national socialism are Oswald Spengler and Othmar Spann. A short and very instructive summary of the ideas of national socialism is contained in the program of the Greater German Peo­ple’s Party of Austria written by Otto Conrad, Richtlinien deutscher Politik. Pro gram­matische Grundlagen der Grossdeutschen Volkspartei [Guidelines for German policy. Program principles of the greater German people’s party], Vienna, 1920.
• 18See O. Bauer, Die Nationalitätenfrage und die Sozialdemokratie [The nationality problem and social democracy], Vienna, 1907, pp. 263, 268.
• 19I sought to explain it in my book Nation, Staat und Wirtschaft [Nation, state, and economy], Vienna, 1919, p. 45 et seq.
• 20The most comprehensive treatment is given by Prato, Il proteezionismo operaio, Turin, 1910. (French translation by Bourgin, Paris, 1912.) The book remained almost unknown in Germany.
• 21International Convention of Socialists at Stuttgart, August 18–24, 1907, Berlin, 1907, p. 57–64.
• 22See the excellent discussions by F. Wolfrum, “Der Weg zur deutschen Frei­heit” [The road to German freedom], Freie Welt, Gablonz, vol. IV, Booklet 95, and “Staatliche Kredithilfe” [Credit assistance by the state], Freie Welt, Booklet 99. In Czechoslovakia every government intervention serves to make the minorities Czech; in South Tirol and in Poland the Italians and Poles do not act any dif­ferently.

Werner Sombart himself proudly confessed that he gave a good part of his life to fight for Marx.23 It was Sombart, not the wretched pedants of the ilk of Kautsky and Bernstein, who introduced Marx to German science and familiarized German thought with Marxist doctrines. Even the structure of Sombart’s main work, Modern Capitalism, is Marxian. The problem Marx raised in Das Kapital and other writings is to be solved again, this time with the means of advanced knowledge. And as with Marx, theoretical analysis is to be combined with historical presentation. The starting point of his work is completely Marxian, but its findings are purported to go beyond Marx. Thus, he differs from the publications of party Marxists whose findings are rigidly circumscribed by party doctrine.

Sombart built his reputation as a Marxist and scholar in 1896 with his little book Socialism and the Social Movement during the Nineteenth Century. The booklet saw several editions, and each new edition gave evidence of the changes in Sombart’s position on the problems of socialism and the social movement. The tenth edition, revised, is now available in two imposing volumes.24 It is to demonstrate and justify his turning away from Marxism—but not from socialism. In fact, the two volumes do not deal with socialism as such, but rather with “proletarian socialism,” with “Marxism.”

Sombart deals only with a history and critique of Marxian socialism. He avoids revealing his own social doctrine, which he briefly touches upon in a few places. With visible satisfaction he speaks of the old associations of the Middle Ages—church, town, village, clan, family, vocation— “which contained the individual, warmed him, and protected him like a fruit in its peel.” And with visible horror he speaks of that “process of disintegration which shattered the world of faith and replaced it with knowledge.”25 The ideology of proletarian socialism is seen as an expression of this disintegration process. And between the lines he is reproaching proletarian socialism for its express preference for modern industrialism. “Whatever socialistic critique may have raised against capitalism, it never objected on grounds that capitalism has blessed us with railroads and factories, steel furnaces and machines, telegraph wires and motorcycles, record players and airplanes, movie theatres and power centers, cast iron and aniline colors.” Proletarianism, according to Sombart, merely rejects the social form, not the gist of modern civilization. And with clear emphasis on his own position he confronts proletarian socialism with the “preproletarian chimera,” with its “bucolic” flavor which always praised agriculture as the most noble vocation and looked upon agrarian culture as its ideal.26

This infatuation with agrarian society and the Middle Ages deserves our comment. We meet it again and again in the literature of nationalistic Anti-Marxism, with variations by individual authors. For Spann, the leader of this movement, the ideal was a return to the Middle Ages.27

He who depicts the social institutions and economic organizations of the Middle Ages as models for the German people, should be aware that a bucolic Germany could support only a fraction of the present population even with the greatest curtailment of expectations. Every proposal that would reduce the productivity of labor diminishes the supportable population, and, through the deterioration of the apparatus of production, would weaken the national defenses that are so important from a nationalistic point of view. Nor can nationalism seek a solution of the German problem in a return to an agrarian society. The incompatibility of the bucolic ideals with a powerful development of national forces may explain the dark pessimism of the “doom theories” that are springing up in various forms.

If it should be true that the particular ethos of the German nation is demanding a return to production methods that lead to lower labor productivity, and that, inversely, the Western nations, the Latin nations of the South, and Slavic nations in the East think differently and apply production methods that assure higher labor productivity, the danger is real that the more numerous and productive enemies will overpower the German nation. Will the philosophers of the victors not conclude then that it was lack of adaptability that prevented the Germans from making use of their capitalistic methods of production? Will they not look upon the German mentality as being too poor and unfit for keeping its spiritual equilibrium in the presence of modern technological achievements?

Indeed, it is a gross materialistic feature of otherwise idealistic writers who believe that some externalities of life are blocking the way to inner growth and the development of inner strength. He who does not know how to safeguard his equilibrium when surrounded by motorcycles and telephones will not find it in the jungle or desert. That is, he will not find the strength to overcome the nonessential with the essential. Man must be able to safeguard himself where-ever he lives and whatever the circumstances should be. It is a sickly weakness of nerves that urges one to seek harmonious personality growth in past ages and remote places.

Sombart, as already mentioned, reveals his social ideal only between the lines. He cannot be criticized for this. But we must fault him for not offering a precise definition of the concept of socialism in a book that seeks to present and analyze a certain kind of socialism. His discussion of socialistic ideology, which introduces the work, is its weakest part. Sombart rejects the thought that socialism is a social order based on public property in the means of production. Obviously, the concept of socialism would have to be a social one, or of the social sciences, he argues, and could not be from a special field of social life, such as the economy. The emotions accompanying the controversy over socialism reveal that the term socialism must comprise yet deeper problems than “economic technology.”28 But the definition Sombart then offers must finally return—although with ambiguity—to the only relevant characteristic of socialism. After lengthy discussions he arrives at the conclusion that the idea of socialism always comprises the following components:

1. The ideal of a rational condition of society is to be contrasted with a historical condition that is irrational: that is, an evaluation of social conditions as perfect or less perfect. Certain features of the ideal that are common to all kinds of socialism relate to the anti-capitalistic essence of socialism: socialism obviously must reject an economy for profit because of its irrational objectives that spring from its guiding principle. As money symbolizes the capitalistic economy for profit, it is as such a favorite target of socialistic critique. All evil of this world comes from the struggle over the ring of the Nibelungs; therefore, socialism wants to return the gold to the Rhine. In the manner socialism opposes the “free” economy it also opposes its foundation: “free,” i.e., private, property and the “free,” i.e., labor, contract. It gives rise to exploitation, the worst blemish of social life, the eradication of which is an essential program for all kinds of socialism.

2. Valuation of social conditions and adoption of a rational ideal necessarily correspond to the recognition of moral freedom, the freedom to strive for a realm of objectives with one’s own strength, and the faith in the possibility of its realization.

3. Ideal and freedom inevitably give birth to an aspiration for realizing the ideal, a movement, born in freedom, from the historically given to the rationally desired. But every confession of socialism means a renunciation of motive power, that is, from the viewpoint of the individual it means: obligation, sacrifice, limitation of the particular.29

There can be only one reason why Sombart chooses this detour, instead of retaining the proven and only viable definition of socialism: his aversion toward dealing with the genuine economic problems of socialism, an aversion that permeates his whole work and constitutes its greatest deficiency. The fact that Sombart never raises the question of whether or not a socialistic order is possible and realizable is even more serious than his renunciation of a clear definition of socialism. For only this question can provide the foundation for an understanding of socialism and the socialistic movement.

But Sombart does not want to deal with socialism in general; he wants to analyze proletarian socialism, or Marxism. However, his definition is unsatisfactory even for proletarian socialism which, according to Sombart,

is merely an intellectual sediment of the modern social movement as I have defined it since the first edition of this book. Socialism and social movement are ... the realization of that future social order that is adjusted to the interests of the proletariat, or the attempt at its realization. Socialism seeks its realization in the world of thought, the socialistic movement in the world of reality. All theoretical efforts toward revealing the desired goal to the aspiring proletariat, toward calling it to arms, organizing for battle, and showing the road on which the goal can be reached, all comprise what we call modern socialism.30

One thing is noticeable in this definition: it is Marxian. It is no coincidence that Sombart deems it proper to adopt this definition unchanged from his first edition, from the time when, by his own admission, he was still walking in the footsteps of Marx. It contains an important element from the Marxian world of thought: socialism suits the interests of the proletariat. This is a specific Marxian thought that is meaningful only within the framework of the whole Marxian structure. “Utopian” socialism of the pre-Marxian era and the state socialism in recent decades acted, not in the interests of one class but on behalf of all classes and the collective whole. Marxism introduced the two axioms that society is divided into classes whose interests conflict irreconcilably, and that the interests of the proletariat—realizable through class war only—are demanding nationalization of the means of production, in accordance with their own interests and contrary to those of the other classes.

This very thought returns in various places in the book. At one place Sombart observes that very few influential Marxian writers come from the proletariat “and therefore are only interested parties.”31 And then point-blank: “The proletariat belongs to the system of capitalism; the inevitability of hostility toward capitalists springs from the class conditions of the proletariat. This hostility assumes certain forms in the social movement: labor unions, socialistic parties, strikes, etc.”32 It cannot be denied that the materialistic philosophy of history is visible here in full display. To be sure, Sombart does not draw the conclusion which Marx logically drew in this case: that socialism is coming with the inevitability of natural law.33 According to Sombart, the “science of capitalism” founded by Marx introduced “the idea of the regularity of economic life in our era.” It reveals “that the realization of any particular socialistic demand depends on very real, objective conditions and that, therefore, socialism may not always be realizable.” Marx thus created “scientifically” the thought of resignation which logically leads from socialism to social reform.34 We need not dwell further on the question of whether Sombart’s conclusion is the one that must logically be drawn from the doctrines of Marx, or whether the opinion of Lenin and Trotsky is the logical one. It is decisive that Sombart unconsciously continues to stand on the scientific ground of Marxism. (Sombart drew the reform conclusion in his earlier writings; this is the “Sombartism” of which the orthodox Marxists speak with derogatory gestures, as they always do when something displeases them.)

Wherever Sombart seeks to describe capitalism he does so in the framework of Marx and Engels, often in their own words.35

Such are the characteristics of Sombart’s position on Marxism: while he does not embrace the founder’s naively materialistic version of socialism today, Sombart builds his more refined socialistic doctrines on the foundation of Marxism. And he draws practical conclusions other than those of orthodox Marxists. In fact, he does not oppose socialism in any form.

Sombart reproaches Marx not for his doctrine of class warfare, but for its politicalization and the final conclusion Marx draws from the doctrine: the inevitability of the proletarian victory.36 In other words, Sombart does not say that the Marxian separation of classes does not exist, or that the properly understood interests of the various layers of population working in a division of labor do not conflict with each other, but are harmonious. But he says: Ethics must overcome the conflict of class interests. Besides the class principle “there are other social principles—namely those of idealistic nature.” But Marxism makes the class concept absolute.37 Sombart apparently believes that man must submerge his class interests and give precedence to higher interests, to national interests. He reproaches the Marxists for not thinking in terms of fatherland, for conducting world policies, for advocating class warfare in domestic policies, and for remaining pacifistic and antinationalistic in foreign policies.

Sombart completely ignores the scientific criticism of the Marxian class doctrine. This is necessary because he wants to ignore utilitarianism and economic theory and because, in the final analysis, he considers Marxism as the true science of capitalism. According to Sombart, “Marx founded ... the science of capitalism.”38 Long ago this science “demonstrated conclusively, that this economic order contains the essence of the destruction and dissolution of civilization. Karl Marx was the greatest, if not the first, harbinger of this knowledge.”39 In order to escape the conclusions that must be drawn from Marx’s theories, Sombart knows nothing better than to appeal to God and eternal values.

Sombart is quite right when he professes that it is not the function of science to provide a “value critique, that is, to reveal the inferiority of individual words, analyses, and principles of proletarian socialism.” But he is mistaken when he declares that scientific critique is “but a discovery of relationships and their significance, relationships not only between the various doctrines and corresponding political demands, but also between the content of the whole system and the basic questions of intellectual civilization and human fate.”40 That is the position of historicism which is content with pursuing relationships among scientific theories and between scientific theories and metaphysical systems of thought, but abstains from developing scientific theories of its own. A sociological theory, which Marxism represents in spite of its shortcomings, can be analyzed only by examining its usefulness for an explanation of social phenomena. And it can be replaced only with a theory that is more satisfactory.41

It could not be otherwise. Sombart’s critique of proletarian socialism rests on a subjective value judgment of what he considers the “basic values” of the proletariat. Here, world view meets world view, metaphysics confronts metaphysics. It is confession, not perception, and has no bearing on science. Of course, there are many readers who appreciate Sombart’s work for this very reason. It does not limit itself to the narrow field of scientific labor, but offers metaphysical syntheses. It is not mere scientific research, but the presentation of material permeated with the spirit and personality of the man and thinker, Sombart. This is what gives the book its character and significance. In the end it convinces only those readers who already share Sombart’s view.

Sombart does not attempt a critique of the means by which socialism proposes to attain its ends. And yet, any scientific analysis of socialism must first examine the thesis of the higher productivity of socialistic production, and then question whether or not a socialistic mode of production is possible at all. Nor does Sombart’s criticism more than touch upon the problem of the inevitability of socialism.

Sombart’s book is a special literary phenomenon. It frequently happens that in a scholar’s lifetime he changes his opinion and in a new book advocates what he opposed earlier. But it was always a new book that revealed the intellectual change, as, for instance, Plato’s Laws which followed his Republic. It is very rare, however, that an author reveals his lifelong struggle with one problem in ever new revisions of the same work, as does Sombart. Therefore, we must not conclude that the present edition contains the last version of his statement on socialism. Many years of labor lie ahead, new editions of Socialism will be needed not only because previous editions are out of print, but because Sombart has not yet completed his work on the problems of socialism. The book in its present form merely represents a stage in Sombart’s struggle with Marxism He has not yet freed himself as much as he thinks he has. A great deal of intellectual work remains to be done.

Sombart’s inner struggle with the problems of Marxism is symptomatic of the thinking of many German scholars. Each edition of the book reflects rather well what the intellectual leaders of Germany have been thinking of this problem. The changes in his opinion mirror the changes in the opinion of German intellectuals who have followed his leadership for a generation.

• 23See W. Sombart, Das Lebenswerk von Karl Marx [The life’s work of Karl Marx], Jena, 1909, p. 3.
• 24W. Sombart,. Der proletarische Sozialismus, Marxismus [Proletarian socialism, Marxism], 10th ed., rev., of Sozialismus und soziale Bewegung [Socialism and social movement], Jena, 1924; vol. I, The Doctrine, vol. II, The Movement.
• 25Ibid., vol. I, p. 31.
• 26Ibid., vol. I, p. 257 et seq.
• 27See O. Spann, op. cit., p. 298 et seq.
• 28See Sombart, Sozialismus und soziale Bewegung, op. cit., vol. I, p. 5 et seq.
• 29Emphasis added. Ibid., vol. I, p. 12 et seq.
• 30Ibid., vol. I, p. 19 et seq.
• 31Ibid., vol. I, p. 75.
• 32Ibid., vol. II, p. 261.
• 33Ibid., vol. I, p. 305.
• 34Ibid., vol. I, p. 304.
• 35Ibid., vol. I, p. 32 et seq.
• 36Ibid., vol. I, p. 368 et seq.
• 37Ibid., vol. I, p. 356.
• 38Ibid., vol. I, p. 304.
• 39W. Sombart, “Das Finstere Zeitalter” [The dark age], Neue Freie Presse [New free press], Dec. 25, 1924.
• 40Ibid.
• 41I cannot here go into the details of a critique of the class doctrine; I must refer the reader to my Gemeinwirtschaft, Jena, 1922, p. 265–352. [English-language edi­tion: Socialism (London: Jonathan. Cape, 1936), p. 281–358.]

Anti-Marxism fully subscribes to Marxism’s hostility towards capitalism. And it resents Marxism’s political pro­gram, especially its presumed internationalism and pacifism. But resentment does not lend itself to scientific work, or even to politics. At best it lends itself to demagoguery.

But for every scientific thinker the objectionable point of Marxism is its theory, which seems to cause no offense to the Anti-Marxist. We have seen how Sombart continues to appreciate Marx as a man of science. The Anti-Marxist merely objects to the political symptoms of the Marxian system, not to its scientific content. He regrets the harm done by Marxian policies to the German people, but is blind to the harm done to German intellectual life by the platitudes and deficiencies of Marxian problems and solutions. Above all, he fails to perceive that political and economic troubles are consequences of this intellectual calamity. He does not appreciate the importance of science for everyday living, and, under the influence of Marxism, believes that “real” power instead of ideas is shaping history.

We can completely agree with Anti-Marxism that the recovery of Germany must begin with overcoming Marxism. But this overcoming, if it is to be permanent, must be the work of science, not of a political movement that is guided by resentment. German science must free itself of the bonds of Marxism by putting behind it the historicism which for decades has kept it intellectually impotent. It must shed its fear of theory in economics and sociology and get acquainted with the theoretical achievements (even those by Germany) attained during the last generation.

Carl Menger’s statements of more than forty years ago on modern German economic literature are still valid today and apply to all the social sciences: “Scarcely noticed abroad, and barely understandable abroad on account of its peculiar tendencies, German economics for decades has remained untouched by serious opponents. With unflinching confidence in its own methods it often has lacked serious self-criticism. He who pursued another direction in Germany was ignored, not refuted.”42 Only a thorough study of the works of German and foreign sociology differing from etatism and historicism could help to extricate it from the deadlock of prevailing doctrine in Germany. German science would not be the only beneficiary. Great problems await their solution that cannot be achieved without German cooperation. Again in the words of Menger: “All great civilized nations have their .particular mission in the unfolding of science. Each aberration of a sizeable number of scholars of one nation leaves a gap in the development of scientific knowledge. Economics, too, cannot do without the singleminded cooperation of the German mind.”43

Above all, German science must make a proper assessment of the importance of Marxism. It is true, the Marxists and Anti-Marxists greatly overestimate Marxism as a scientific system. But also those who deny Marx as the first harbinger of the substance of the Marxian doctrine raise no objection against the validity of the doctrine itself. Only he who can see the world without Marxian blinders may approach the great problems of sociology. Only when German science has freed itself from the Marxian errors in which it is enmeshed today, then, and only then, will the power of Marxist slogans disappear from political life.

• 42C. Menger, op. cit., p. xx et seq.
• 43Ibid., p. xxi.