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DIVISION OF LABOR
Di-vi-sion of la-bor n. 1. the breakdown into specific, circumscribed
tasks for maximum efficiency of output which constitutes manufacture;
cardinal aspect of production. 2. the fragmenting or reduction of human
activity into separated toil that is the practical root of alienation;
that basic specialization which makes civilization appear and develop.
The relative wholeness of pre-civilized life was first and foremost an
absence of the narrowing, confining separation of people into
differentiated roles and functions. The foundation of our shrinkage of
experience and powerlessness in the face of the reign of expertise, felt
so acutely today, is the division of labor. It is hardly accidental that
key ideologues of civilization have striven mightily to valorize it. In
Plato's "Republic", for example, we are instructed that the origin of
the state lies in that "natural" inequality of humanity that is embodied
in the division of labor. Durkheim celebrated a fractionated, unequal
world by divining that the touchstone of "human solidarity," its
essential moral value is-you guessed it. Before him, according to Franz
Borkenau, it was a great increase in division of labor occurring around
1600 that introduced the abstract category of work, which may be said to
underlie, in turn, the whole modern, Cartesian notion that our bodily
existence is merely an object of our (abstract) consciousness.
In the first sentence of "The Wealth of Nations" (1776), Adam Smith
foresaw the essence of industrialism by determining that division of
labor represents a qualitative increase in productivity. Twenty years
later Schiller recognized that division of labor was producing a society
in which its members were unable to develop their humanity. Marx could
see both sides: "as a result of division of labor," the worker is
"reduced to the condition of a machine." But decisive was Marx's worship
of the fullness of production as essential to human liberation. The
immiseration of humanity along the road of capital's development he saw
as a necessary evil.
Marxism cannot escape the determining imprint of this decision in favor
of division of labor, and its major voices certainly reflect this
acceptance. Lukacs, for instance, chose to ignore it, seeing only the
"reifying effects of the dominant commodity form" in his attention to
the problem of proletarian consciousness. E.P. Thompson realized that
with the factory system, "the character-structure of the rebellious
pre-industrial labourer or artisan was violently recast into that of the
submissive individual worker." But he devoted amazingly little attention
to division of labor, the central mechanism by which this transformation
was achieved. Marcuse tried to conceptualize a civilization without
repression, while amply demonstrating the incompatibility of the two. In
bowing to the "naturalness" inherent in division of labor, he judged
that the "rational exercise of authority" and the "advancement of the
whole" depend upon it-while a few pages later (in Eros and Civilization)
granting that one's "labor becomes the more alien the more specialized
the division of labor becomes."
Ellul understood how "the sharp knife of specialization has passed like
a razor into the living flesh," how division of labor causes the
ignorance of a "closed universe" cutting off the subject from others and
from nature. Similarly did Horkheimer sum up the debilitation: "thus,
for all their activity individuals are becoming more passive; for all
their power over nature they are becoming more powerless in relation to
society and themselves." Along these lines, Foucault emphasized
productivity as the fundamental contemporary repression.
But recent Marxian thought continues in the trap of having, ultimately,
to elevate division of labor for the sake of technological progress.
Braverman's in many ways excellent Labor and Monopoly Capital explores
the degradation of work, but sees it as mainly a problem of loss of
"will and ambition to wrest control of production from capitalist
hands." And Schwabbe's Psychosocial Consequences of Natural and
Alienated Labor is dedicated to the ending of all domination in
production and projects a self-management of production. The reason,
obviously, that he ignores division of labor is that it is inherent in
production; he does not see that it is nonsense to speak of liberation
and production in the same breath.
The tendency of division of labor has always been the forced labor of
the interchangeable cog in an increasingly autonomous,
impervious-to-desire apparatus. The barbarism of modern times is still
the enslavement to technology, that is to say, to division of labor.
"Specialization," wrote Giedion, "goes on without respite," and today
more than ever can we see and feel the barren, de-eroticized world it
has brought us to. Robinson Jeffers decided, "I don't think industrial
civilization is worth the distortion of human nature, and the meanness
and loss of contact with the earth, that it entails.
Meanwhile, the continuing myths of the "neutrality" and "inevitability"
of technological development are crucial to fitting everyone to the yoke
of division of labor. Those who oppose domination while defending its
core principle are the perpetuators of our captivity. Consider Guattari,
that radical post-structuralist, who finds that desire and dreams are
quite possible "even in a society with highly developed industry and
highly developed public information services, etc." Our advanced French
opponent of alienation scoffs at the naive who detect the "essential
wickedness of industrial societies," but does offer the prescription
that "the whole attitude of specialists needs questioning." Not the
existence of specialists, of course, merely their "attitudes."
To the question, "How much division of labor should we jettison?"
returns, I believe, the answer, "How much wholeness for ourselves and
the planet do we want?"