A Theory of Human Need. - book reviews

A Theory of Human Need, by Len Doyal and Ian Cough. NewYork: The Guilford Press, 365 pp. $17.95, paperback.

I have been mulling over how to review this book for many months. I had been researching the history of modern marketing in the United States and its obviously profound effect on consumption when I received a copy of A Theory of Human Need. Although I had eagerly awaited its arrival, I found reading the book a curiously deflating experience, and began to contemplate how to convey why this was so to MR readers. It was in this frame of mind that I was shocked to receive from Guifford Press an announcement that this work had won the 1993 Isaac and Tamara Deutscher Prize, given each year to the book that best embodies a fighting, clear-headed intellectual contribution to socialist politics. Given my admiration for so many of the books that have received the Deutscher Prize, it feels uncomfortable to have to say that this book has a problem.

The problem is Doyal and Gough's central argument, which is that basic human needs are not subjective fictions, but objective and universal realities. While I fully concur with this thesis, I was exasperated by the authors' static, a historical, and ultimately self-defeating handling of it. Yet how could I explain my frustration in a balanced and appropriate way? As so often happens, the answer arrived with an issue of Monthly Review. In this case, it was the June 1993 issue, which contained the marvelous symposium on Cornel West's The Ethical Dimensions of Marxist Thought.

I had been an avid reader of West's brilliant and important works, including Ethical Dimensions, before I read this symposium. Among other lessons I learned from West, I had been thoroughly convinced by his argument that Marx's contributions to humanity were derived from a "radical historicist" perspective that insisted that morality was both fully a product of history and meaningful in the deepest sense. But what I had not realized before seeing the symposium was that West's analysis of morality is also a model explanation of historical thinking which can help us escape the idealist confusions that pervade debates about ethics.

A Theory of Human Need is a fine example of this point. Doyal and Gough devote themselves to attacking relativist notions about human needs. Yet they try to do so not in historical terms, but in terms that reproduce almost exactly the tragi-comic abstractness that plagues mainstream conflicts over the knowledge-status of morality. Indeed, Doyal and Gough aim their attacks at various opponents who actually or purportedly view needs from the vantage point of relativism, whether strong or weak. On one hand, we find the strong relativists, including the post-modern nihilists who peer out of their theater of the absurd and giggle and guffaw at those who speak of "needs," and those who adopt strong relativist positions in defense of capitalism: market ideologues who see discussion of need as an unjustifiable incursion on "consumer sovereignty." (Although Doyal and Gough don't develop this point, readers might be interested to notice how the ruling ideology of extreme individualism automatically dissolves real human beings.) On the other hand we have the weak relativists, whose camp, according to the authors, includes "radical democrats," critics of cultural imperialism, phenomenologists, and--the case that really demonstrates Doyal and Cough's imprisonment within abstract ahistoricism--the Marxists! This is the authors' view of how Marx (the leading Marxist) saw human needs:

For Marx, the economic aspects of the social environment were by far the most important in shaping human identity. If such conditions differ, then so will the individual conception of self--what is natural or unnatural, possible or impossible, harmful or beneficial, good or bad, normal or abnormal. This will mean that individual perceptions of need will also differ in the most profound ways for the same reasons. (p. 12)

Beyond the use of the weary old reduction of Marx to the status of an economic determinist, this, of course, is precisely the sort of objection to both real ethical relativism and Marx's historical perspective that West documents in his critique of abstract "objectivists."

The abstract objectivist (in West's terms, Doyal and Gough are "soft objectivists," willing to let a little bit of openness into their theory) creed goes like this: because historical evidence shows us that people perceive ethics and needs differently at different times and places, those who derive their concepts entirely from history inevitably dash objectivity to pieces and let nihilism enter through the back door. This is precisely the conclusion drawn by Doyal and Gough:

Stressing the impact of differences in language and culture on the way in which the world is theorized and perceived, such critics have either denied or minimized the importance of theories which contend that the needs of all human beings are fundamentally the same. Economists, sociologists, philosophers, liberals, libertarians, Marxists, socialists, feminists, anti- racists and other social critics have increasingly regarded human need as a subjective and culturally relative concept. (p. 1)

Doyal and Gough worry that this plays into the hands of evil (at least they get this part right; they see the New Right and the status quo as the evil in question):

If the notion of objective need is groundless, then what alternative is there but to believe that individuals know what is best for themselves and to encourage them to pursue their own subjective goals or preferences? And what better mechanism is there to achieve this than the market? (pp. 1-2)

In response to this dire dichotomy, we get the standard call for a salvation by Universal Idea that marks all systems of a historical objectivism:

In order to correct this situation, we believe that a coherent, rigorous theory of human need must be developed to resurrect an acceptable vision of social progress and to provide a credible alternative to the neoliberalism and political conservatism which have caused serious harm to so many within the capitalist world. (p. 3)

Wrapped up in this call are all the hallmarks of the paralyzing idealism that West's argument so thoroughly exposes: the notion that ideas impose themselves on reality from beyond; the radical doubting of reason that commences as soon as thought engages with history; the proposition that morality must either be agreed to by all or be meaningless; the politically naive implicit fiction that objective morality automatically convinces people (including the ruling class and the power elite?) to adopt it; the deep pessimism about the ability of individuals to perceive their own interests and situational dilemmas; and--crucially--the preclusion of a thoroughly historical view of the objectivity of ethically central categories.

Now, the reader might begin at this point to wonder: So what? Isn't this all just an esoteric philosophical objection to a decent idea? Is anything lost by such an abstract objectivist view of human needs? Isn't such a view better than the dominant one? Can't it aid those of us who care about the travesties committed against people all over the globe by the lords of monopoly capital? What practical difference is there between Marx's historical objectivism and abstract objectivism?

The answer is that the ahistoricism of Doyal and Gough's perspective matters a great deal. While it is a slight improvement on the reigning climate of "needs nihilism," it creates more confusion than it clears up. By failing to consider the possibility that human needs are both historical and objective, Doyal and Gough wind up having their objectivist Odyssey come to nought. Steering away from the Scylla of nihilism, they pilot their ship straight into the Charybdis of arbitrary, rootless "objectivity."

In demonstrating the problems that ensue, I will limit myself to sketching only a few of the most important cases.

One area of confusion produced by Doyal and Gough's ahistorical approach is their discussion of "the" state. Because they tend to view "the" state in the same abstract way that they view human needs, the authors also tend to assume that political power is some unchanging force to which we must simply learn to apply the right principles, presumably by studying logically pure theories. On this count, Doyal and Gough make what are in my opinion two enormous mistakes: despite their best efforts to avoid this pitfall, they tend implicitly and explicitly to equate collectivism with Stalinism and freedom of choice with liberal republicanism. Now, it is obviously undeniable that such associations have in some senses marked the history of our century, but must all "collectivism" be Stalinist? Do capitalist states render freedom of choice for all as central to life as their defenders claim? Hasn't there been "collectivism"--say in Sandinista Nicaragua and in the Mondragon experiments in the Spanish Basque regions--that has been deeply un-Stalinist? Can citizens of the United States freely choose to build a national railway system that will alleviate our automobile nightmare?

In short, while some of Doyal and Gough's abstract insights about the connection between political power and need-satisfaction are helpful (i.e., a great extension of democracy is needed to ensure that people can control the means of meeting their own needs), I find that their abstract and ahistorical suspension of concepts in the thin air high above the dynamics of real human affairs leaves one wondering how we can effectively politicize human needs simply by talking about abstract ideals of the state. Doesn't everybody pay lip service to the need to increase democracy? How are we to get at the real enemies of this process?

A second major weakness arising from Doyal and Gough's ahistoricism is their inability to transcend the obvious--in the worst sense of this phrase. For example, after receiving a few bits of valuable empirical information on the state of need-satisfaction around the world, we are treated to the thoroughly unsurprising conclusion that: (a) with proper care, "we can make perfectly valid comparisons between countries which embrace Catholicism and Confucianism, Communism and Capitalism" (pp. 272-273); and (b) that human needs are worst-satisfied in the Third World and best-satisfied (although very unequally so) in the First World. Of course, none of this should surprise a reader of Monthly Review--or for that matter any other thoughtful world citizen. But this is really all that Doyal and Gough achieve in this book, and even then at a level of abstraction that is far too high.

Finally, I must point out one other problem created by the authors' ahistorical objectivist view of human needs: They fall to take the institutionalized struggle over the creation and realization of needs into account. While Doyal and Gough propose a somewhat useful typology for classifying basic needs in the abstract (i.e., how to relate food, clothing, shelter, etc. to a coherent standard of what people need to live), they give incredibly short shrift to the problem of how Chevrolets and Big Macs become needs. Indeed, Doyal and Gough are inclined to dismiss this kind of consideration as being merely a question of "wants." Yet there is a very real sense in which automobiles and fast food are needs in societies such as the United States--just ask a person looking for a job or an over-worked mother with hungry children whether a car or a trip to McDonald's is a want or a need. On top of this, what about our world's mushrooming marketing apparatus? As one marketing professor explains, The future for a science of behavior is bright .... As this [marketing] synthesis develops further, real progress will probably be made in understanding the intricate relationships that exist between peoples, products, and services in all the cultures of the world.

As any marketer worth his or her salt will tell you, marketing is an intricate business practice that is designed to extend "demand management" in the interests of profit- making. The fact that in the age of the multinational corporation Doyal and Gough make no serious mention of marketing operations in a book about human needs is truly astounding. All of these complaints bring me back to my original point. Yes, I too insist that human needs are objective. But they are real in historical terms, not in terms of some pure and timeless logical standard, and we should not be afraid to admit this, since it is the key to liberating our minds. Doyal and Gough, unfortunately, overlook this fact. By failing to place themselves squarely within human history, they do little more than tilt against windmills. While those who are interested in contributing to the satisfaction of human needs can probably hone some of their insights on A Theory of Human Need, it would be wise to remember that people do not make their own history exactly as they choose. In the real word, we have to overcome powerful enemies and navigate around or through entrenched institutions in order to build a better society. Grand abstractions that do not engage us with these forces will not get us from here to there.

We must quite realistically face the fact that with the left as weak and pulverized as it is, we are deluding ourselves if we think we can exert any significant influence on American politics today. Nor should we continue to kid ourselves into thinking that we have only to water down our program a bit, accommodate here, and compromise there--and we will be a force again.

Not so. That is the road to our own extinction. For what do we gain if our voice is finally heard again--but the message it proclaims is garbled, or so modified as to be no longer worth hearing?

Let us, instead do what we can do--speak out honestly and clearly for what we stand for. Let us proclaim--and teach--our socialist faith: anywhere and everywhere, to the man), or to the few. Let us stop worrying about the size of our movement and think more of its quality. Let us study, let us work hard, let us carry on the struggle to spread the gospel of socialism so that the younger generation will be equipped to understand the forces that make for the rule of gold, and those that strive for the Golden Rule.

This responsibilty is ours--and we can perform it best by calling the shots as we see them without hedging, or trimming, or flinching.

Let us tell the truth--the whole truth--about the world we live in.--Leo Huberman, "The Debs Way," January 1956.

Michael Dawson is a sociology graduate student at the University of Oregon. He is busy writing up his research on the evolution of U.S. marketing and consumption since 1945.

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