Preface
In January 1997 the Getman DE-i'Jews Service rc·poned that two eastern Gennan brother!> \V<'n· standing trial for thl'il l'llons to extort DM3 million from the supermarl..et thain Aldi. The prmt·nHors asl..cd for stiff scmcncc~. but the defense appealed for lenien0·. l ts argument began com·entionallv enough: mildet sentence~ were warramed bcrau~c no one had been hun bv the homemade bombs planted in juice contaim·rs in Aldi stores in Leiptig. Halle, Braumchwctg, and Bergen. But the ckft·nsc didn't rest there. It also asked for an "Fast extenuation" for two young men who had been ''Jed asuav by the promises of alllucm society after the fall of tlw Berlin Wall." The court didn't buy the argument; it sentenced o ne brother to nine and the other to four years in priMm. Btllthc defense drew on a 'ICmc of disappoinunent with efforts to extend West Gennanr's "allluem scxictr" w the East.ls sud1 a thing possible? Can an afTlucnt society function a<. a ll'·tbk model for change (and not just as an :tlibt for cmerprismg attorneys)? This \'as the Ger·man expcaimem. exu·eme in its C'\ecution but hanUv unprcceclcmcd in its ambition. This book is conn•rncd with the question of imuation, and specifically \\ith how policymal..cr' rlllttat<: foretgn institutions. In cH·r }da~ uc;age, ~imitation" implies a voluntary choice. r make no such assumptwn. for policy elites <;omc·Limes feel com pt•llcd-ci tlwr by domesti< 01 by cxtt•t nal pressures-to usc imitation as a Wily to change institutions. What<.'H'I the motive, this book asks what happens when llwy do imitate. My inquiry into whether it is possible to "u-ansfer" institution~ from abroad uses c;,sc studies drawn from the po~>t1945 Allied occupation of \'\'est Gennany and lrom German reunification at lhe end of the Cold War. In some area-. of st.uc and '>Ocietv. bm bv no mt:.lll'i all, the occupauon
XI
pn~ject~ been? \'\11} did some !lop? What can we Jeam about the performance and persistence of tlwst• institutions? The post-Cold \\'at contt•xt provides a paniculatlv timdy moment to seck answers to these qucsuon,. I'he idea that som<· modern nations can function as blueprints for change is hack with a vengeance. Democracy is widely regarded as something to ht• Mpromoted~ or "assisted" t.llht•r than as an unintended consequence of baules between ninett•t·nth-centun socialists and conservatives. Multilt\lct al lending organizatiom dt•mand institutional ot policy change as a condition of lending and often specify precise arrangements that exist in mort· "liberal" economics. In the young democracies of Eastern Europe. political actors have been conducting a conscious process of institutional transfer. EaM European governments, often aided by \Vestern academics, have tried to build ne\' institutions based on designs developed in the West. hoping that tlwsc institutional changes will <·
ail 0\'er the head of the adversar\. Among aficionados. this is a problem of "de,·;uion." Policpnakers often m1s., their targets too. The imtitutionalmodels that foreign policymakers choose to emulate must be adaptable. capable of changing in response to changing domestic or external conditions. Like targets, models move: by the time foreign leaders study the model, build support, and enact legislation, the original model may, for any number of reasons, have changed significantly in its country of origin. As tricky as this windage problem is, the elevation problem is even more diflicult. The model presumably e~joys a certain legitimac} and acceptance in its original political setting. but policymakers ma-. well ha\e to compromise on ccttam of it'> formal or informal features in orclct to build acceptance for it in the new sociel). Further. indigenous actors ma~ u, w steal the new institution and occupy (or create) the strategic high ground that its structure affor. This study began with a single question-"When can institutions be transferred?"-scratched on a legal pad. In researching and formulating my an'>Wers, J incurred debts to many institutions and individuals. For research funding. I thank the Progr.un for the Study of Ge1 mam and Europe at the
XII
Harvard Center f(>t European Studies, the MIT Industrial Performance Center, the Jacob J.tvits Foundation. the Social S< i('IH e Research Counril, the American Counril of Learned Societies, and the Alexander \'On Humboldt Foundation. At Gt inncll College. Charlie Duke and james S\\-artl' were rommined ro the book\ succeo;s. Harve\ Sapobh and Abb\' Collins. at difl(.·n·nt times. put the mob of the ~liT Center f01 lntnn,uwnal Studies and tht· HalYard Center f(H Emopean Studies o\'er Ill\ h(·,\d. One looks like a wan· hems(' and the other hkt· a villa. but both made prof(mnd conuibutions to tn) un derstanding of politics and brought me in contact with stimulating visiton. and wily regulars. For comment~ on research design or speciflc chapters, I thankJens Alber, Giinter Albrecht, Chris Allen, Rose Batt, Petn Berg, Volker Berghahn, Rob ert Boyet, Ham.~Joarhim Buggenhagcn, \ngclo Caragiuli, Robert Cox. Roland C.tada. Pt·ppcr Culpepper, Peter Dombrowski, Joachim Domnkk. Klaus Df1rn·. Bw kard Eberlein, Ann Frost, Lil~ Gardner Feldman, Carola Frege. Eugt•nt· Chol.t. Robert Gre}.John Griflin. Michael Fichter, Da,id Firwgold, Christoph Fiiht, I lal Hansen. Bob Hand;(-, Fred Henneberger. Rogt·rs Hollingsworth, ,\ 1arc Howard, Ellen Im mt•rgut, Carsten Johnson, jlugen Kadtler, Roger Karapin, Peter Katzenstein, Berndt Keller, Patrick Ken is, Hcrbert Kitschelt, Charles Maier, Michael Marks, Wilfried Mausbach,.Jorg Mayer, Kent McClelland, Claus Offe, William Patch, T. J. Pempel, Paul Pierson, Lucian Pye, Robert Putnam, Martin Richter, Stephanie Reulen, Richard Samuels, Manfred Schmidt, Rudi Schmidt, Michael Schneider, Karen Schober, Wolfgang Schroeder. \1ike Shirer, Stephan Siemer, Steven Silvia, Da,id Soskice. Sven Steinmo, Ira Strauber, Wolfgang Streeck, James Tent, Kathleen fhclen, Urich Voskamp. Jnn Walsh, Eleanor Wesmey. Helmut Wiesenthal, Eli.t,\ Willis. Klaus-Peter Wiucmann, Jason Wittenberg. Volker Wittke, and .John Zy:.man. I learned an enormous amount from fellow graduate student~ in a joint :\1IT-Harvard dissertation seminar run by Pctet Hall and Suzanne Berger. I thank Karen Alter, Brian Hanson, Martin lkhn•ns,Jonah Levy, David Hart, and Brian Burgoon-indispensable friends and indefatigable editors. Helen Ray provided <"<>umel, babysitting, and Clwetos. Kevin Crim unsplit infinitives. Karen Groves and Terri Phipps helped with manuso·ipt preparation. Kari Geisler, Bet tha Camacho. and Bame\ Conroy were dependable re'>eardl .tssistant<>. The Frerucl families of Cologne ,md Wet nigerode lent profound insight<> into Ge1 many. West and East. Two people at <:ach of four different institutions provided the intellectual support that kept this project mo\~ng through its various incarnations. In Germany, H01·st Kern and Martin Bacthgc of the University of Gottingen were early critics and grarious hosts. Much later, Gerhard Lehmbruch and Wolfgang Seibel kindly hosted me for a year as a l Iumboldt Scholar. Konstan.t was a wonderfully stimulating environment in which to write up the f)rst ch aft
XIII
PREFAC:F.
of the argument, providing me with helpful colleagues from several disciplines. At the Harvard Center for European Studies, Peter Hall and Andy Markovits provided sound advice, steady encouragement, and good humor; the book benefited enormously from their suggestions. My warmest thanks go to Suzanne Berger and Richard Locke from the MIT Department of Political Science. Since they wore whichever hat was needed, I came to know them as mentors, bosses, research collaborators, and, above all, friends. f thank my mother and, most of all, my wife and daughters, whose patience made researching and writing this project a joy. The girls chose to see theresearch travel as an adventure rather than a sacrifice. Kindra interrupted her own career to go to Germany. Taylor and Mackenzie left their friends behind and learned enough German to hold their own, without complaint, in strange schools and strange sandboxes.
CHAPTER ONE
Studying Imitation 0 imitators, you slavish herd! -HORACE,
EfJistles
WADI:: jACOBY
Grinnell, Iowa
Contemporary culture disparages imitation and prefers innovation. My epigraph from Horace reflects prejudices that ridicule imitators as subservient ("slavish") or developmentally lower than innovators ("herd"). If anything, these prejudices arc stronger today, when the public and private sectors chant the mantra of innovation with equal fervor. 1 In politics, however, imitation is suspect also because it is so difficult to copy the success of others. Social scientists, journalists, and policy elites talk incessantly of the Swedish model of this or the japanese model of that. But much talk of "models" refers to either the misty past or the prescriptive future. Most observers, it turns out, doubt that political elites can really emulate institutions existing elsewhere . ·why the skepticism about the imitation of political structures? Commentators often imply that a historical model was once widely imitated by policy elites in other societies-a familiar example is the Bismarck ian welfare state-yet the closer one comes to supposed examples of emulation, the harder it gets to pin down the historical transaction. And in the end, son~£ purported cases of imitation turn out to be historical mirages: innovation due to indigenous forces was miscategorized after the fact as part of a trend originating in one place and spreading to others through imitation. A second problem grows out of claims that foreign solutions arc the magic bullet to solve pressing domestic problems in the United States. Policy entrepreneurs, journalists, and even social scientists frequently attribute to foreign institutions special efficiency or justice. West German vocational training, for example, widely praised for everything from lowering youth unemployment I. MITs TechnolOf!J' Revil'w (Dcccmbn 1997, 5) has prodaim<"cl that inno\'ation distinguishes contemporary \ociety "just as philosophy di~tingui~hed the ancient Greeks and artistic human· ism the Italians of the Renaissance."
XlV
1
IMJ rAriON AND PouTtcs: RED~'>Jt:NJ:-IG 1\tooFHN Ct·.KMANY
to casing the restructuring of busine~s firms and promoting general education, is often held up as worthy of imitation b} other !>ocieues-even as it plunges ever deeper into crisis in Gcrmanv. But showing that foreign inMitu tions have problems too (and so deflating grandiose clatms about the utility of foreign models) engenders fUJ thet skeptici~m about the vet\ possibilitv of imitation. Like the thirsty traveler who has seen tlw oa-.is tum to sand one too mam tim(•s and so crawls past the waterhole, we now hold to a skepticism that i~ dysfunctionaL In scholarship on institutional change, imitation has becom(~ nearly invisible, relegated to th(· <>tatus of a curiosit) mentioned in historical footnotes or superficial prescriptive asides. I believe that imitation should in fact be acknowledged as crucial to many cases of institutional change. Surelv, the idea that the fortunes of societies have no influence on choices beyond their own borders is implausible. Out \OCabular> constant!) invoJ...es foreign models, and psychological theories of learning assign a prominent place to modeling.~ A widely used text on the policy proccsl> argues p<.·rsuasively that "political reasoning" often takes place through a competition ofmetaphors."1 Some of our metaphors arc clearly inspired by foreign practices. Under many diJTerent conditions, people look eagerly-or feel compelled to look-bevond their own experience for institutional clues in the pursuit of material and moral goods. This book l>hows that imitation is not onlv possible but important in political life-too important to remain invisible. It develops its claims through a stud} of institutional transfer, a J...e} mode of imitation. Institutional transfer involves three necessary conditions: first, state elites refer explicitly to a model prominent in another place; second, they tl} to identify the foreign model's legal framework and the actors that help it function; finally, these elites build a replica of all or part of the model (either from scratch or by remolding indigenous institutiom to approximate the foreign model). Policy elites allnnpt transfer when they use foreign models to change institutions in their own counU). But docs transfer worJ...? If so, b) what process? I pursue these questions in one country. Germany, and its extraordinarily rich experience with institutional transfer during rwo watershed periods of reconsu·uction: immediateh after \\'orld \\'ar II. and following reunification. Both periods involved far-n.·aching effort.~ to use existing institutional de signs in new places. Dramatic examples of tramfer attempts itl\'oh ed institu tions of industrial relations and of S('condary education. Each period and policy area had cases both of effective transfer and of failure-a pattern this book seeks to explain. There are few sustained theoretical discussions of imitation. Most accounts ~.
\ tht·m' th.11 lot .Itt'~ unitauun a'
.1
tenu.tl k;uure of hum.1n tognition and ht'h.1\ior
'iu'>.lll Hlad.mo1 e. 11u .\lrtm' Alac/111u (~e~> Yorl..: ( >xt01 d l 111\t'r'i" Pn·"· 199\l). :\. tkhlone. H•lit)·l'mrufu.\ :!d t·rl. (:\t·" \<11!.. :--.'ollon, I\i!l7), :\7:\-!lO.
2
j,
maJ...e one of two stylited claims about institution building: that imtitutional tramler is inettlfabll', or that it is impossibll'. N(•oliberal accounts of institutional change, at least those concerning the economy, sugg(·st that compt:tition will weed out less adaptive structures and drive comergence around optimal designs. Bv privileging particular design features-and often anointing them "best practices "-such argumenh fetishize the institutions bv emphasiting con,ergent form over function. In tl1is view, transfer is simply a mechanism lor setting up proper institutions. By contrast, arguments that ~tress the embeddedness of institutions see in institutional u·ansfcr a technocratic naivete that leads to doomed efforts to produce, for example, "cookbook capitaltsm." From tl1is perspective, institutions arc created bra kind of alchemvthe fortuitous combination of ordinary local clements into something extraOt dinary-through serendipitous historical processes that are implicitl} unn·peatablc. Both arguments are inadequate because each can explam only one kind of ouKome: rapid and effective diffusion on the one hand, failed transfer on the other. v\That we need is a description of a range of transfer outcomes and the tonditions under which they occur. In the absence of good theories, sophisticat<:d rumors abound: that strong political authority, or preexisting cultural ~imilarity, or the rapid transfer of a group of institutions together account for the best outcomes. But such hypotheses cannot explain why a poorlv funded, piecemeal transfer from alien British and American cultures after World War II contributed to striking changes in German institutions, whereas a wellfunded, systematic transfer from one half of the German nation to the other in the 1990s contributed to ongoing dilemmas in eastern German). ~h core claim is that effective transfer results from the combination of an organized society and a flexible state strategy. Without some prior organization of civil societ). institutions that presume tl1e exercise of social power berome dependent on state elites and often remain mere words on paper. But flcxibilit) is also important because but!ding a power base often involves alliances between t11e policymakers who are copying a foreign design and partintlar organit.cd groupl>. These partners may have substantial disagreements <~bout ke) details. Such disagt eements are normal and can even be beneficial: dashes over institutional design, even among partners, can lead to innovative hybrid fmms endowed with a capac it) for further change. The flcxibilit) sown in the transfer process can be reaped later. for the institutions that result not only are congenial to local socioeconomic conditions and ideas about justice and fairness but also have the capacitv to change as tlwse conditions and ideas evolve. \\1lat ts distinctive about this claim? It focuses on political smtggk and
3
Studying Imitation IMti'AI'ION AND
Po1.ntc~: R~.ot;SIGNI!'IG
Mont.RN
Ct H'\tANY
explain other outcomes, such as cross-national economic performance. The hook a\oicls taking institutional context as fixed and static. A~ it conduct'> an cmpi• ical o;tudv of the imitation of institutions, it develops a political model of institutional transfer that builds from three distinct rc~ea1 i<·. bv the rapid improvement of all instruments of production. b\ the immemeh facilitated means of communication, draw~ all, even the most barbarian, nation'> into civiliLation .... It compels all natiom, on pain of cxtinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production; it compels them to introduce what it calls civilization into their midst, i.e. to become bourgeois themselves. In one word, it creates a world after its own image." The thrust of Marx's famous claim was that advanced societies reveal to developing societies a vision of their own future. A different way to think about institutional transfer is Max Weber's notion of the spread of rationality. Building on his diagnosis of a "bureaucratintion of the world," social theorists studied how diffmion occurs across social systems, and their research soon went beyond bureaucratic structures alone. Finally, Montesquieu wrestled with the links bet\"een the <"ullural inclinations of a society and its institutional structures. In book 14 of ThP Spirit of the Laws, he argued that "good Legislators" are thm<· who stmggle to oppose the "vices" of their own climate; in oth('r words, policv eliu·s ~hould search for institutional solutions to overcome social and cuhu1
tutional transfer. On the one hand. the id('a that previously divergent societies were developing toward a t"ommon endpoint implied that institutions cYerywhere would become similar. hnplicitly, transfer could be one route to this outcome. On the other hand, the fC\\ moderni1.ation theorists who wrote on institutional transfer we• e gent'ralh pessimistic. Daniel Lerner took issue ,,;th the concept because it implied that institutions could be transferred as if ..from one surface to anothe1." Suggesting the term '"communication of codes" as more appropriate. ht· went on to list the ways premodern codes obstructed the de,elopment of those attitudes necessar) for modern institutions. He thus suggested that the p1 acticc-. and norms of premodern societies would block introduction of institutions whose functioning presupposed modern attitudes.~ Some nventy years later l.ucian P\e offered a related ,1,ew of instituti?n~l transfer. Pye's defense of the moderni.~:ation approach claimed that As1a fit the paradigm much better than did Africa or Latin America and was indeed "modernizing but in ways ... difi"erent from the Western experience."" Given these differences, the prospects for institutional transfer were dim, even within Asia, Pye argued, because Asian and Western conceptions of power were diiTerent. Indeed, pt·oplc in all societies develop distinctive, largely society-specific mechanisms for dealing with superiors, and these behaviors help them to defend themselves and even to manipulate the powe~ful. Foreign organizational patterns threaten to reshuffle these power relauons, undercut these coping strategies, and thus trigger "hostile reactions" from those who would have to acUust. 7 The <,ocially vulnerable are loath to give up their home-court advantage. since even disadvantageous arrangements may allow them some room to manipulate the wstem if they know it intimatRly." Accordingly. Pye concluded. institutional transfer will founder on its presu~nption that psychological and cultural routines. those that allow defense agamst the exercise of power. can be replaced. \ct resistance is not the only pos.sible re<>ponse to foreign institutional designs. People sawv enough to ha\e made the best of a bad situation often still imagine they could do better in one less prejudicial to their interesLs. For example, Eleanor Wcstne\ 's studY of Mciji Japan (1868-1912) demonstr_ate~ that. in fact. the regime borrowed from Paris its model for the Tokyo pohce.'
TilE CONV~RGt.NCf. THESIS AND THE 0VERCORJU:CTION OF CoMt'ARATIVJo: PouTICAL EcoNOMY
Marx's convergence image was greatly elaborated by non-Marxist work on modernization. The resulting convergence thesis was ambiguous about insti-
5. Daniel Lr wr, ""The ftaml<'l ol ln>titutio"'." in rllf Tmmfer of /mliluliotH. ed. William 11 H.tmilton (Durham, N.C.: Duke tlniw"il\ 1'1<:"· 1\H\-1), 7. • 6. Lucian l'ye. ,\ 1ianl'o11•? and l'r11itin (( :,unh1 llarvard t lni,·ersiry Press, 1985), 10. fm a · 11" l c1· L "Wa ., n ~o Vt<'le Ost· similar argument on the Ct·tm;ul Dt·•nmtattr R<'pu >1c. see .v 1<1 ange. 'H · cleutsche von df'r rap,;i,<•ut,lti\\'11 Dt•nloktatie l·ntti1uscht ,ind."Dir 7Rit,.January 10, 1997.
irl~t':
s:
I
1. h..ul 1\!,u' and F1 it•ch it h Engeh, "'Manifesto of the Comll11Hii't P!l) , 11; J\1," \\"t•hn. t'mllltl".\ 1111d 'imrl"l\. A 11 Out lull' of Jnirrprrtit•P Soriology (New York: lkdmi"'tl"l l't<'"• 1!ltlll) ·Yo!. :l, ol hi.. 14.
ni~
Pve, A1ian /'own and l'oiltir~. !!r>. The post· mocle1 ""',;on ol thi' .u gum<:nt i,J.unt'\ Scott, \\eapons ofthP \\rak (1'-<'W
Havt:n: Yale l'niH·"i" l'r e"· 1
lrat~~frr of \\htrrn Organiwtimwl l'ntrrrtll Ill
,\fnJI}npan (C.unlllid).:l': lf.u,,ud l niH·r,it\ PH' "· 191-\7).
5
~-tlld_>IIIK bmtatum
l\111 AT! ON ANI> POI.ITI('S: RFDFSI(:NIN<. MODERN Gl • RMANY
One is hard pres\ed to find an institution in which the potential for complicated superior-subordinate relations i.s greater than that of the police, yet the assumpuons built into the Parisian s·ystem did not make it unusable for the .Japanese. Further, although ~kUi officials originally adapted the Parisian model to th<'ir understanding of local conditions, subsequent change11 were actual!} mort', not less, along Parisian lines. In t•astem Germanv todav. a~ in western Gcrmanv after 1945, deep cultural differences do reshape transferred institution11. But far from automatically blocking institutional transfe1 , the hope· of change can also stronglv pmmote it. or course, a large body of work has attacked the nonnative assumptions and empirical findings of modernintion theor) and, by extension, the implied mechanisms or convergence. Yet these objections have contributed to a curious contemporary neglect of processes of cross-societal imitation and emulation-a trend I call the overcorrection of comparative political economv. That literature uses the comparative history of national cases as the dominant mc·thodology. It is concerned not with charting ~progress ,\long a presumed unilinear path of socie·tal development but ratlwr with uncovering, interpreting, and trying to explain distinctive patterns of development." '' National imtitutional differences often account for the variance scholars observe in the timing and qualitative feature' s of political and economic development. This focus on diveT.Iity can be seen a~ a corrective to the· work on the spread of "the one best '>}''item," which many associated with modt' rnitation theory. But although manv or these studies derived their theoretic~! impetus from flogging the horse or institutional convergence, the}' collecuvely generated a methodologv of comparative national cases designed to highlight institutional differences (and their effects). With this focus on difference, it is small wonder that a study of institutional transfer i'i such a methodological outlier. Indeed, there remains no more ubiquitous dismissal of the possibility of imitation than the assertion that any u·ansfer will be blocked by "cultural differences" or "different traditions."
THE DIFFUSION LITERATURES: IMITATrO'II \\'IT HOt.'T POLITICS
Like u·ansfer, diffusion is a metaphor; it refers to a physical process in which particles move from areas of high c·oncentration to areas of lower concentration. Socialllcience interest in the spread of human invention among and between various communities has provided ample evidence that cross'>ocietal imtitutional transfer is not only possible but ubiquitous. Of course, similarity alone is no proof of diffusion, but studies that relate the copying of
legislation, down to ev<:n the typog• aphKal enors, rai'e confidence that in ,tituuon building often inYolves some nwasure of imitation, not just simulta ncous invention. Diffusion studit•s, however, mask the politics revealed b} the· 11 1stitutional transfer approach; thus the two appmaches arc romplenwnts, not substitutes. To be sure, diffusion literatures have varied across discipline!.. So(iologists, on the one hand, developed mathematical tc<·hniques to measure patterns of ,pread. 11 To do so. thev tended to blend out variations in the meaning of the innovation across cases and simply focused on the timing of adoption. Anthropologists, on the other hand. often u~d rates of adoption as a window on the ('hararteristic diflhcnces between early and late adopting individuals. .\nd the most important political snenn· writing on diffusion has applied it to tlw Ameriom ft•deral S\''item. These works-which now include dose to one hundred studies 1 ~ -generally take a particular phenomenon, often a kgi11lative measure but sometimes a.Judidal or administrative one, and trace ns ternp01al and geographic spread. There are three significant problems with the diflusion uadition. First, since the literature bcgim from the observation that innovations often ,pread from one place to another, it has, plausibly enough, focused on the structural conditions allowing for such d1ffusion. In domg so, however, it has often implied that the conditions making diffusion po~ibiR also make it mor<.· or less automntic. The methodology of Iarge-N studies encourages the tautological assumption that where difft•sion happened, conditions for it were 11ght. This approach blends out much interesting action deriving from the uncerlainiJ of collectivities about what their real problems are and what solutions might be both technically effective and compatible \\ith existing interl'sts and cultural fnuncs. Second, dillusion research has focu~ed on the spread of mnovation but has neglected the issm·s of institutionalfJerjomumre or subsequent modifications.' ~ We need to know rnon· than which state passed what law and when. Many diffusion rcsearclwrs arc poorly situated to judge whether poliq innovation!> actuall) produce the exptTted outcornes. 11 \\'illiarn Landes and Lewis Solomon\ important study of compulsory school attendance showed, fm example, that those G.S. statc~s alread; having the higlwst levels of schooling I I '>toe. < .g.. '>Juatl Dodd , "Dr1Ju,in n h l'rt·dit 1.1hk." ,\ mn tran .,,.,.,/ogrral lln•in•• :.?O ( 1!165): :l'l!!- 102. 12 Th e fi"t of tlww " " ' .l·ll l.. \\all..t·t \ ..eminal .u tick, "Tht' Difhl\ion of lntlpt<·.ld o f Poli"· lnno\·ations in the Ft'dt'J.II <;,'It' Ill " l'ubliu' 15 ( 1'185) · 1- 27. I ~. fhet t· art· t"\ lTpllon, . Petu fj,inJ,t<:t . of tlu· fntllprmrrninl 'itall' ( \1adi""" l IIi\ ('I "" of\\'iscomin Press. 19HH) ; ~cou Ha~t·'· -R<· lmt·ntion and Jhl' Drflusion of PoliC\ lnnm .rtion' .rmon~ tht· \rnerrc.m '>t.llt''" ( l'h D. eli~'·. Flo rrcla St.llt' l 'nh N\ity. I !1'.11) . II. Sa\a~l·. "Drflu,ion Rnt'anh Tntdllion,.- 17
JJ,,. u,.,.
10. l'<:ter b <~n' and John :O,t..:phl·m, -ne\dopnwnt and the \\'odd En>nOnt\ , in llandbook of ' erl'>rnd,,., ( 'n•hut , . P.ul... C1hl.: Si1J.:<', 19HH) . 740. 716. ·
"'""'"'J...'I. eel
6
7
hiiTA'llON AND P01 nH.'>: Ru>ES!CNIN<; Mo!H.RN GERMANY
were also flr-;t to adopt compulsory schooling laws, while those with more unschooled children were the last to do so.'-· In this case, then, the diffusion of compulsor y schooling laws seems not to ha'c '"caused" more compulsory schooling in and of iLself. Unfortunately, few rliflusion studies arc designed to treat historically tJ1e links ben-veen indigenous and outside sources of institutional change, as the desire for large data sets has led to highly stylit.ed history. Third. with the methodologically induced neglect of histon and social context has gone a striking neglect of power politics. Diffusion research generallv focuses on changes in individual laws, which are easy to mcasme. "' But the political science literatme on diffusion lacks systematic attention to the most important institutions. Many studies treat areas where the "innovation" in question concerns a very small number of elites and where there is scant evidence of political mobilitation beyond the actions of concentrated interests seeking to make sure that, for example. advantageous regulatory arrangements existing in other states are extended to them. Such an adoption proce'>s will exhibit little need for adaptation. By contrast, my focus is on institutions that are major sources of state-society intersection: the design of schools, the constitution of actors of industrial relations, and the laws that regulate work. The failure of the diffusion traditions to solve these three problems, a failure anchored in the mcthodolog} of large-;V comparisons, suggcsLs that the dillu!>ion and transfer approaches are not substitutes for each other. Rather, they ask fundamentally different questions. This book's challenge is precisely to unravel the complicated process of societal imitation under conditions of real uncertainty, time pressure, and abiding conflicts about institutional design. Methodologies designed to track the spread of tort reform from Connecticut to California arc bound to be unsuitable for this analysis.
Poucv
BORROWI.:-~c:
"Fn,"
firms. schoob. hospitals. labor uniom, and so forth. frequently cop\ the: policies of othet 11.1tions." 1" The instrumental. intetest dtin·n core of thts pt•rspecti\'e (as opposed to the cultural and ~tructur
FABRJCATJO.:-~, AND FoRF.TC.N Moon~'>
If Montcsquieu's "good Legislator" seeks to change her society, perhaps she will look abroad f'or inspiration: this is the premise of' the policyborrowing approach. 17 Gove1mnents, argues .Jerold \\'altman, an: "like any other human organization .... national governmcnts, beha\ing like business
I ~•. \\rlliam 1.1ndn and Lew" '>olomon, -compubm 1 '>< hooling Lq,rislation, "Jmunal of f:ronomtr lfi11111 \' ~~2 ( 19n): 5'1-!J I. 16. \ncl in manv cases tht·v lit an impl itit ~ociallht'or 1 that onh "!<•chnital"thing' >tu h a' rcgulatio"' ttl// ht· u ansferred. 17. \,uiWtt'\ imrt.ll<' polit·ies that t'\.i\t dst·\\ht·rt·.
8
Studying Imilalioll
1H. Jerold W.tltm.lll, Copying Olhl'l ,\i1fum\ l'olicie1 (Camh1 iclg<'. :\Ia,.,.: Sch~ni..nl.lll, l \IHO). Colin Beum·ll '"J.:gt''t' that such holtOIIiug clll ha\'e fi,e 1-.incl' ol objt'lli\'('': polin gcMI,, ton tc·nt, ill\llllllll'llh, ou1comes. aud \l\ lc·': st'C' hi' "Re,iew .\1 tidt·· \\hat h Polin Com l'IJ.:t' IH t' and \\hat ( .HN'' h'- UuiHhfourrwlofl'ollfuo/ \nn1u21 ( 1991) 21H. l!l. For mort• on 1.\lioual 'hopp1ng st·t· tht· section unclt·l 1h.11 lw.tdin~ in Ch.tplt'l :!. :!ll. Colin lknllt'll , -Ho" Statt·' t tthJt· Forl'i~n bidt'IHt'." fmmwl of Publn l'oltt) It ( l9!ll): I 1-:i 1. ':?I. Ihid .. :1 I. :1:;- 10. Panin1b1 h 111 h on th<''t' que,tiorl\" 1 Ll1 olcl \\'olman. "t'IHit'l st.uulrnJ.: ( "'" \btlon.tl Polin Transfer,,"(;"''''' •uwrr:; ( 19!!2): 27- lc•. 22. \ f,N 1n.11ing \1llll) along tht·"' lint'' i' Mark Bl'i\\ingcl, .\umlifir .\lanagnnml. Sm11dlll 011 nfJ/in••. and .'im'll·l Pown (Cambridge·: 11<11 1.11 d l 'ni,crsil\ l'n·"· I!lHH). '' hich imt'\ligalt'' So\'iet borrowing of \\'c•stt'lll management lt'< hniqun. :!J. [),l\id l'hrllrps. -1\orrowing Edtl<.lllllll.ll Polin.- (hfoul \rwlin 111 (A>mpmall!'l' ldumlum 2 ( l'l~l':?~: 1:;. 'KT .1lso l),l\id Philhp'. "'\l'itht'l
IMITATION AND
Po1 n
1cs: R~ t>t.SIGNING Moo~ R'\
G1
tionalit:y of policv elite~ mav conflict with broader ~ocial demands, an exclusive reliance on a purported "fit" misses ~1ontesquieu\ call for good legislators to struggle against their nation's shortcomings. Thus, despite such warnings, poliqmakers do persist in trying transfer, and the experience of eastern Germany since l 990 is that even in the area of education this can be a route to very substantial change. Overreliance on the "fit" idea also obscures the diversity of institutional possibilities already present inside different nations at any one time. The political explanation I ofl"cr assumes that different pieces of national institutions arc often assembled in ramshackle ways, not in coherent "subsystems." Different institutional solutions to fundamental social tasks compete for prominence even as thev interact to face the problems of the momcnt.2 4 Taking the societal context serioush·. then, leads not to the conclusion that foreign institutional designs are inherentlv unworkable but to a recognition that policrmakers occasionally do come to believe they have something to learn from others. When they do, depending on the flexibility of the adaptation process and the qualities of their domestic allies, both social norms and the connections between institutions can change. In other words, culture can shift through the working of politics even tl10ugh the shift may not be easily orchestrated. Albert Hirschman's classic article on the "hiding hand" suggests that many useful development projects would never have been undertaken had the original proponents known in advance the difficulties of their realization. 2 ~
The focus on "fit" thw. takes the constitution of actors for granted and leaves unexamined the questions of the malleability of institutions and the plasticity of the borrowing society. 2 h Yet the conc<.'pt of borrowing or transfer, used more broadly, can shed light on the processes of constructing and recreating institutions. At minimum, one wants to know if the policy fits th<.' aims of important social actors as well as it fits the agenda of opportunistic or threatened bureaucrats. The transfer approach assumes that the boundaries of competence of state and social actors arc not fixed and at certain times are open to contestation, and it inquires into the condition!> under which power and authority may shift in the process of institutional tramfer. This negotiation of institutional de~igns i~ itself constitutive not only of new coalitions but
. 2·1., For similar >, JU9:l); ,tnd Martha Nussbaum, Cu/tit,ating I htmtmtl) (Cambridge: I l.: Chatham I lnu-.e. 1!193), H3-Yi.
10
Studying Imitatwn
RMAN\
of new agent!> of politics. In order to show this, one often needs to look beyond the state and bt.•yond polic;.
Trn. INSTITt
I'IONAL TRANSH.R APPROACH
Sophisticated rumors too thin to serve as alternative explanations and bodies of theory that acknowledge the phenomenon of imitation but neglect to unravel the workings of the process reveal a clear need for a new approach. This book, unlike the convergence literature, Mudies imitation directly rathet than as an epiphenomenon of modernization processes. Contrary to the dif~ fusion literature, it emphasizes political choices along with structural variables. And unlike the poliq-borrowing approach, it analyzes borrowing by social as well as bun·aucratic actors, without taking the constitution of those actors as fixed and stable; it thus subsumes the phenomenon of policy borrowing by moving beyond the policies themselves to understand imitation among the actors and within the institutions that generate, implement, or codifY the policies. But what can the institutional transfer approach explain? Broadly, two outcomes arc of potential interest. Most obviously, perhaps, one could inveMigate how well the actors attempting imitation accomplished their aims. When has imitation been "successful," with success defined rclati\'e to the objectives of the original advocates? The anS'.\'ers could !>peal.. directly to poliq1nakers, perhaps even helping them avoid costly mistakes. A sustained research agenda using this metric might even improve the quality of governance if policymakers could be engaged in a dialogue. Yet two serious problems disqualify this approach for my project. First, with German reunification only a decade old, final judgments about success and failure are premature, unless one yields to a temptation to compress transfer into the short-term process of setting up institutions. Second, measuring success against policymakers' aims raises tl1e questions of which policyrnakers, which aims, and at which times. In both of the historical periods considered here, such aims changed significant!\ over time. Since the actors prO\ide no clear and stable standards against which to measure outcomes, analysis cannot center on the question of succcss.27 Instead, motivated b" an appreciation of the complexity of social change and the frequency of unintended consequences, I choose to focus on the jJf'rjor mance and persistmrl' of transferred institutions. My judgments about performance do capture benefits to the proponents of transfer (as in a "success" ap ~7. It is tkarh tl'dul to 'JX".tl ol "htilure.- hcl\\nt·J. 'Ill<<' -
11
Studying lmitatwn
ll\11 rATION AND l'ouncs: RFOESJC.r-
proach) but also encompass unforeseen outcomes and eflect~ on other actor~ and institutions in the nc'' setting. Judgment~ about persistence encompass issues of the rooting of instnution~ and their reproduction mer time, and also of the ways they gain kgitimacv in the new societv. Efll·ni' t•ness occurs when the u·ansferred institution acquires a legal framework. ''hen it performs in the new society in ways broadly consistent with the aim~ (promoting elllciency or justice) that led to the transfer attempt, and when it persists by being reproduced over time (though presumably not without some subsequent changes). In short, my measure of institutional u·ansfer encompasses the tripartite outcomes of Icgalit}. performance, and per~istcnce.
Two BLUEPRDIT~ roR Ou,IO\RATIC C.'\.PITAI.IS\1
All fruitful comparisons n.·quire noting both similarities and differences between cases, and the premise of this book is that one can learn about imitation by comparing institutional transfer in two very diffcrent historical periods: the post-World W;u II Anglo-American occupation of what became West Germany, and the post-1990 reunification of Gennany. The central justification for comparison is simple and broad: in each pcriod there was an explicit attempt, by the policvmakers who had formal authority, to construct var;ants of democratic capitalism by reshaping domestic institutions. 2~ The Allied military governments in the first period and the• West German government in the second saw the pre\ious systems as unacceptable and recogni/ed a need for thorough imtitutional changes, even if there was no consensus in either case on what those changes should be.~'" In both ca1>cs, there was a pervasive, if far from universal, sense of an end to national abnormality enforced by dictatorship. This sense led to the hope of returning to a more "normal" place among a larger community of Western societies. And there were widespread economic problems in both periods, com pounded by fears of further dcindustrialization. In each period, ke} policymakers also believed that the experience of dictatorship had literalh changed indi\idual psycho log:, 1 a ising an immediate need for new ideas to be imparted in new settings and in ne\~ ways. ~fost important to this book, polic) makers in both period<> saw in their own societies
:!H. That both demon at I' and (pmt-Wm ld \\'ar II period) and \\'l·st ( ;erm.nl federal and st0\'creignt' out of exi~tence in 19~10. ( .aw.th (t·.g .• l.nnd ('late) gmenunents altt·r 1916--17) are noted in tlw tn.t.
12
useful models for redesigning the part ofGermam thev had come to control. Although all were aware of at least some potential pitfalls, the C.S. and Brit ish occupation gO\cl nmenLs and the \\'est German government sought to u.,e tht·ir own institutional models to help reform tlw failed structures of the immediate authoritarian past. In short, despite verv large differences in con· te>-ts. both periods saw ambitious efforts at inslitutionaltransfer. The policy areas I usc to illuminate the politic~ of inslitutional transfer arc industrial relations and secondary education. Undet industrial relations I include the conMitution of trade unions and business organizations as legal , 1ctors "ith institutionali;cd prerogati\'es in finn-level codetermination, colkcti\'e bargaining. and industrial policy. Second.uv-including ,·ocationaleducation invoh es derisions about the length, content, and form of schooling to follow priman education.:~" These areas mark the intersection of normative struggles about democracy and the economy, yet the) also pro, ide broad variation along kcy dimensions: industrial relations were organit.ed along sectoral, regional, and national lines; education was the prerogative of state-level politics. Further, each policy area provides examples of both effective and failed transfer in ways that reflect differences in the central explanatory variables. Hence, factors idiosyncratic to a given policy area can be rninimized.:1 1 Using the threshold of legal adoption and the metrics of institutional performance and persistence, one can ask, when ha~ transfer been effecti,·e, and when has it failed? Table 1 summarizes the main short-term and long-term outcomes in the four cases to be explained in Chapters 3-6. The effective transfer of industrial relations institutions in the postwar era was marked by both an active civil society and a self-consciously flexible strategy-the two key J~tctors highlighted here. The Allies promoted the piecemeal use of American and British models in dismantling Nazi-era industrial relations, curtailing union ambitions for radical postwar reforms and reformulating the old Weimar system-which ultimatl'ly formed the other key pillar of the postwar order. The Allies used their models to justify significant restrictions on the prerogatives of both labor and capital and to shape the fi>rms of the associations that emerged. Since reunification, however, industrial relations institutions have been transferred from western German) with minimal built-in flexibility and \\ithout the benefit of indigenous social support in eastern G<'l many. Established West German actors have struggled mightily to reproduce familiar patterns of institutionalized economic deci-
:10. Since \OC I dt·al \\lth. it> indusion abo help' sign.tl plwnomena that .lit' iclrnsHH Iilli(' 10 particular p<>lin •"<'"' .u1d hence ha\e Ot'!'n nf lc·" inu·rt'st in building Ill Oil' gn~t·r .11 tht•orre' of imitation. ;\I. Theodorl' l.m\1, -,\mel it.m Bu,ine~. Publil Pnlic \, '>tuclit·s. and Political ·r ht•nl\,1\i~r/d l'olitirc It\ ( l!lli-1): ti77- i I!'>
c.,".
13
Studvinf{ bnitrllion
IMn AnON AND Po1 11 1<..~: Rnn:sJGNII\C Mo1n Rl\ GERMANY Table 1. Summary of re\uhs ol .lltemptecltranskt m tht• I om cases "ihort-tenn OUICOIIH''
(.ong-tenn Olll
Pmt Hll:; inclu~trial relatiom (Ch.tptt't :\)
(.ra,sroots unioniMn sufled; employer a.s~onauon power restricted
Politici7ed hut dt•ct•ntralized industnal rl'lauons instead of t•corwrnic clemoct'
Post-! !ll:; '><·hool refonn (Chaptt·t ·I}
Failure
Discredtt ol numnon <;ehool movement
Po~t-1 <190
\tljor defection from <01 t' hat gaining systt·m: llllgt· rncrease in induwial policy efforts
\\'eal..emng ol patwmed wage barwuning
Post-1990 'chool reform (C'h.tpter 6)
Major defection It om private financing of voca tiona! training: rmprt•,. 'in~ effort w org.mitt• new <;ehooling 'Y'tem'
CompctetHt' ,hilts from private to public ~phere; tenSIOilS Within ft'cleraJist aggregauon nwthanisms
mdmtrial relations (Ch.tpta f>)
sion making. But these transfers have not yet been effective; there have been major ckfections from the core system of patterned wage bargaining and sh
Til£ ARGUME:-IT
1:-.1
BRIEF
\\'hat explarns this pattern of dkctive and faikd transfer attempts? The core of tJ1e claim developed in subsequent chapters is that for effective institutional change to persist and perform, it must be "pulled in" by social actors rather than The focus on these two particular factors represents a choice for parsimony over complcll~ness in explaining the dynamics of transfer. But good theories presuppose analytical priorities, and mine follow from two observations. First. effective institutional change may require more than an improVL'd design for more kdliciency~; it often 1 cquircs a shift in power and resourcesa ~hift somcumes encoded in the foreign model's design. This shift ma) ere· ate losers as well as ·winners, so such changes arc bound to be politically complicated. Flexibility built into the transfer process gives room to rco;olvc such disputes without obstructing the transfer. Second, there must also be social actors who can support and implement transfer. Foreign models can sometimes legitimate new dinxtions, but they cannot anticipate mam specific feature~ of the bon·o";ng socil't'. In other words, the necessary capacit\ fo1 adaptation lies outside the blueprint itself, lwcause although poltcvmakers using foreign institutional models can radrcally transform existing social actors, they can rarely create them out of whole cloth. In sum, then, the pervasiveness of unforeseen effects and the need for organizational and political rcsourn~s that do not simply fall out of the rede~>ign process ground the focus on flcxihili() and civil socit~tv. How do thest· concerns relate to the two periods in question? As will h<'comc clear, \ariation in flexibilil\ and in civil sodt·ty exists even witlun the tases of occupation and reunification, but the argument begins with striking diiTcrcnccs {lt'lwenl the two pc• iods-differcnces that arc central to the rc-
:H-
:1~. Tht .1n.1hti< al di-.tint tion ht't\\t't'll .u tor <mel institution i' dndoped in man~ pl.t< t'" <'.~ .• llongla" '\orth: /11\/1111/IIJIII, llllllliiiiiJIIII! u,,,K'· and L'cowmur lhjmmlllut ('\e\\ Yml.. C.unhrid~t· l ni;.. l'rt·"· 1'190). 4-:i.
,,,l,
15
•••••
··~· " " " ' r-\..1'101./. Ul . l l fl...~.
l'.l'..Ui'.SJVNING
lVlODJ~RN'
l;Ji.. I~MAN\'
Studying Imitation
.St'ar~ch dcsi~rl. First, there was much greater poteruial for "pulli.ng in" during .'~1c rn.tm<·<~rate post-V\'orld Warll period than in eastern Gcrmanyaft<·r 1990. I he btst (,c,r·man Communist Party (SED) had been more ell{>ctivc than the
Natio~al ~ocia~ist German Workers' Party (NSDAP) in eliminating non-Party organ11atrons, m part because it ruled for over forty vears compar<'d with only tw<'h e for the Na.ris. n Whereas in the postwar zones of occupation there were r~an} ~ndividuah with recent memory of democratic nrle in the \\'eimar penod, m tuallv all personnel young enough to assume leadership roles in castem Ger mam after reunification had known no fonn of government but au1 thorit:trian ~ocialism. As a result, indigenous elites emergt'd from the CDR <'xpenence rn 1990 with much less understanding of hO\\ to formulate democrati( polin or run a capitalist societ} than had bet'n the case after 1945. A second difference relates to the kinds of opposition directed at the NSOAP <~nd SED regimes, for the East German oppo!>ition simplv was not as. commrttcd to fundamental institutional change as was the opposition to H~tkr. Or~ the one hand, even though the magnitude of opposition to the ~Iller r~cgrme was small, historians have shown the breadth of passive and ac~tV<'. res~sta~~.~· segments of which har.bored ~lans for significant changes in mstltuUons. · On the other hand, an mcreasmg body of research into GDR opposition mo:ements has stressed their essentially relormist objeclivcs.:1~; Thus, though It would be absurd to claim that all oppon<'nts of azism wanted. radical change or that no East German dissidt'nts did, opposition gr:ou~s rn the first era did have a significantly more developed agenda for instttuuon~l change than did those of the second era. The implication is that th<' very rdea of radical institutional change came more readily to the leaders of civil society in the first era but that they also had stronger pr<'conceived ideas about the substance of those changes. If there was cross-period variation in civil society. there was also variation in the flexibility of state strategies. The occupation forces, using what I call th<' fzmrtzonal equwalnzt approach, pushed institutional transfer with relativclv loose reference to their 0\'lll societies, whereas the post-! 990 Federal
1:1. C:lu r'toph KkBn1.1nn. "Oppmition und Resisten' in 7\H'i Dil..r.rttu ;·n iu De 11 t, 1 hl,rncl, • 11
lor1111" lnl\dmft 21)2 (I !l9f)). -t5:l- i9.
•
11
. :11 In on~ 'Pht·n·. ~mm~·r (,llRfmr/l organiLation' ha\elwen re,haped to lwc oru 1·rht•trht•ht•, rmpor r.uu p.ur' ".' nvrl 'ont:t\: tht: nonprofit sector (Red Cro" aucl otlrt·r 1 lr,rr itrn) ~·;· Woll g~.~~•.g .''>t· rlwl . "lmtrt.utronal f:las~city in C:hangi~1g Political Order." \\'or l..ing l'<rpt•r i.l ( lkr l..dn, ( .• llrl .. ( t'lltt·r for (,,.• rn.ur arrcl I::uropt:an Studres. 1996).
:~r~. I~1\tor i~ns :>1 :\ati~>nal Sociali~m have yet to agret: on how to diflt·fl•rrri.ttt• ht·rwt·t·n "oppo.,rtron .rnd r nr'>t.mu· or ev<:n whether two clrflt:rent con<"<' Ph are nt·<·ckcl. Sur v1· " in duck Peter lloflrnarrrr. 7lu·ll,llm)•ojlht>Ct•mwn1Vfistanrr,J9J3-/9.J5 (Carnbriclgt•: 1\lf'J l're".I\J77) ; ll.r:•; Rothft·.l~. l>tr dmllrhr• OjJJJo!tlimt gPgm Hitli'Y (Frankfurt: Fi~chl'r. 1!)()9). :lh. Johrr _lorp<.'l'· lt~lt•lu•rfllfl~, Sorialinn. and Dis>nlt: "f11r hflll (;n 111an OJI!m 11 11111111111t!t f.t~ru; 1 ( 1\lurrrcapoh': lrrl\ t·r ~IIV of Mrnne~ota Press. 199:>); Detle\' Pollock, "\\''" i\1 ,11 " dl'n 1\Crr gt·rlw\\t'grrrrgt·rr urrcl Oppmition,gnrppt:n ckr DDR geworclrn?" .\111 Pobllk und ;,.,,J:,.Irillfhtt• 1110-~ 1 ( I!J!l.i): :\I tr;. 16
Republic of Germany (FRG) has rt'licd mostly on what I call exact transfe~ in its construction of institutions for t·a~tt•rn Germany. The causes and rneanmg of this difference between functional equivalent transfer and exact ~ansfcr are discussed later, but its eflcct vis-a-vis actors can be noted now. PohC)makers using the functional equi\alcnt approach, including those in the AngloAmerican occupation, thought first in terms of the functions or tasks that a model institution perform~; th<'\ then u ied to lind indigenous state or social actors who could usc an imtitutional framework to perform these tasks. In conu·ast. those planning exact tr ansfCr extension of West German institulions to eastern Germany after 1990 anticipated\ en few de\·iations from \\'est German practices. 17 The exan u ansfer approach is design oriented in its focus on and commitment to the faithful replication of institutional structures. The functional equivalent approac-h is more actor oriented than design oriented because adaptations to functionalh inspired institutional changes can gro\\ out of the interests and capac it) of the indigenous actors. This argument about the politics of institutional transfer and the logic of pulling in has tw-o cnrcial implications. The lirst, pitched at the level of mass politics, is that indigenous actors allcct whether foreign su·uctures become accepted widely in the new setting, not just to a handful of elites. Between the promises of new elllciency and the taint of foreignness, the work of building mass legitimacy for transferred institutions often falls to domestic actors. The second implication, pitched at the f(IOIIP level, is that clashing political values and strategies mean that unintended consequences often flow from acL~ of political imitation. Familiar institutions can produce unfamiliar resultc; in a new setting. Local knowl<'dge is often indispensable in searching out adaptations to stabiliL.c the new ~ll uctur es, vet the bearers of such knowledge can also steal the revolution and subvert the aims of the original proponents b} capturing the new design for their own su·ategic advantage. Legitimation
How might institutiorl.ll t1 an~lcr \onducted in one context cndur<' through others? One answer i!> that the transferred institutions gain legitimacv of their own.•s Recent work in organitational sociology emphasiL.cs that insti.tutional suuctures may be atceptablc as much for their relation to dom-
:li. The (.,DR gmer nnwnt g<·rw r ,1lh did no/ uw exatt ~· .111'lt:r bt:twecn l~t~ I ;'ll!J and '.Pring I 11110 ,., it tric(\ to \(<11 in pow<' I. 1 lrt• r dor ruing ( 'o rHillUIIIsh ancl the oppnsruon s Round fabil' :t<1i1i'1' worric-clrhar exan tramfto r from ilrt• FlU; ''oulclunclercut their elTon~ lor an independent ·'third way." :Ill.. \nalog;>uslv, Errr ope.ur diH·, lound rlr.tl imlitrrtiorral ",tate buildin!( required concomit,llrt ··nation building·· or'<'< 111ing 1<>\.rlll olterr through l"'pandt·d partrcrpatron; \f't' ( lra1il's rilh. "Reflection' on tlw llistor, ol Fur op<·,ur 'it,nt· \lal..ing." in "flu hnmntum of.\"ntional \taft'· •·•I. f ilh ( l'r inceton. l'r inc ciOn t rrr"·"ill 1'1<·"· I <Jj~, I. i!l HO.
17
IMITATION AND
Pouncs:
RF.oF.SIG~INC Mom.RN GFRMAI':Y
in ant cultural patterns as for their efficiency.'1 ~1 Whereas classic studies of legitimacy focu!>ed on "diffuse support" for the democratic svstem. recent research distinguishes between the legitimation of democrac} as a form of governance and the legitimation of its constituent institution-;. 111 The legitimacy of a democratic system can remain high even through long periods of poor institutional performance. Constituent institutions, however. appear to acquire and sustain legitimacy only when the system remains unpolarized and the institutional performance is strong. This finding is important because it invites a consideration of whether transferred institutions depend on more than just performance to gain acceptance. One can say with confidence that West German institutions have gained legitimacy f>ince 1945 (though it is too early to gauge its durabilitv in a nonCold War setting). Polls show that both the democratic system and the constituent institutions of West Germany gained acceptance over time: a composite "trust index" more than doubled from 21% in 1950 to 44% in 1984, and a "support for democracy index" increased from 35% in 1950 to 86% in 1987. Although data on performance do not go so far back, the percentage of respondent'> who said German democracy "works well" rose from 60% in 1973 to 75% in 1987. 41 Even Daniel Goldhagen's controversial denunciation of the historical pathologies of German culture suggests that antidemocratic sentiment has been almost entirely overcome in the FRG. 1 ~ Gauging the legitimatjon of new institutions in eastern Germany since 1990 is trickier. There is ample evidence that dissatisfaction is high. especially with the deep economic slump. In 1997 almost 25% of eastern Germans said the GDR system was better than the FRG system, indicating a strikingly high level of general discontent. Possible explanations for such \\idespread disgruntlement include, first, the idea that economic disappointments have been generalited to a range of other questions (though eastern Germans seem eminent!) willing to make precise distinctions and arc not given to blanket appraisals). A second idea is that the cultural values of eastern Germans arc simply different from those of western Germans (the Berlin newspaper TAl recently reported that only 16% of eastern German respondents thought reunification had brought increased freedom of opinion). Third, eastern Germans may simply be deceiving opinion pollsters; still it seems hard to write off the high vote totals- around 25%-ofthc reform Communist Pany of Democratic Socialism (PDS) as merely strategic dissatisfaction. :~9.
St•t• the t•;,;,ay~ in Walter Powell and Paul DiMaggio, eds., 1hr Nl'w f/1\lillllumalllm in 01'f(fl · A IIIII] II\ (Chicago: Uni\'ersity of Chicago Pre,s, 1991). 10. F~t·cklick 'v\'cil, ''The Somce; and Structure of Legitimation in \\btt•tn Dclllot'lil<'ie,," ,\mmmn Snrwlogim/ Urvil'lv 5-I ( 19H9): 682-706. •II. 11)1(1., fi91. 12. D.uucl {.oldh.lgt•n, Hllln's ~\lllmK Exnuttonns: Orduwn Gnm11111 111111 'Jh, 1/olmtwll (l'.e1' IIIUIIillllllf
YmJ..: h.nopl . l!l
18
Studying imitation
Though all three explanations haw some plausibility, they are based only on the subjective judgment~ of individuals responding to opinion pollsters or standing in voting booths. More important. the effort to extend existing western institutions into eastem Germ;un has forced those western institutions and actors to be agents of their own legitimation; that is. they can call on fe,, preexisting organitations to promote their acceptance. Consider three potential routes to the legitimation of institutions: success (the institution islegitimate because it is l'fJl'clit,e). idt·olo~ (it is }111t), and practice (it is familiar). A brief look at eastern Germam c;uggc'>ts that transferred institutions are struggling on all three froms and that the weakness of indigenous ci\il societv is telling in each case. The first proposition is that if new institutions are effective, they will also rapidly gain legitimacy. Many instillltions have indeed done yeoman's work in eastern Germany. Given many outstanding problems, however, even institutions that are workjng well may succumb to difficulties beyond their control. Like the manager promott•d to his level of incompetence, some actors are burdened with more and more new tasks until they fail. And since the magnitude of the problems puts them well beyond the reach of any one actor, the original civil society vacuum in eastern Germany seems to have led to a kjnd of h)percorporatism. That is, since there were no indigenous actors to lean on. the West German actors who operated there fell back on close consultations \\ith one another. Such "n<·tworks" do ensure that everyone can plausibly take some credit for the successes while passing the buck on failures, but it is less clear thev can actualh '>olvc problems. 11 A second method of legitimation is to match new institutions to existing values. This proposition suggests that onlv societies \\ith similar values should borrow from each other. Absclll indigenous actors who can perform a kind of moral mediation . indi,•idual cititcns mav focus on the unfamiliarity of the new institutions and come to unwar ranted black-and-white judgments about them. For example. a common claim of eastern Germans is that western German structures cannot accommodate their values of solidarity. The result is a kind of exaggerated we/ thev thinking. an artificial value polarization suggesting that eastern and western Germans arc fundamentally different moral creatures and that the institutions appropriate for one cannot, by definition, work for the other. A third method of legitimation is to come to know the new institutions through experience in wo1 king with them: legitimation through participation. At least at the elite lcvcl, however, Wilhelm Burklin and Hilke Rebenstorf and their collaborators have shown how seldom eastern Germans have found their way into these institutions: only 11.6% of people in elite positions
·
19
IMJ fA'J 10:--. \ND Po1 JTJ< '>:
Rt.m '>JGNJM.
~Ioot.KX (,ERMANY
in their sample were originally from eastern Germany! H The older generation especial!} ha' been forcibly remO\ed or has voluntarily withdrawn from activity in many institutional domains. In three areas-local politics, clubs and associations, and workplace affairs- there is a huge gap between those aged forty-fow and under, who judge thei1 personal influence since reunification to be up, and those aged forty-five and over, who see their influence as very substantially IRH than before 1990." In consequence, there is a kind of skewed socialization, which, when added to hypercorporatism and artificial value polarilation, leaves the legitimacy of transferred institutions in doubt. All of this point<; to a fourth way of promoting acceptance: the lack of alternatives. The reality in eastern Germany is that West German institutions are faits accomplis. But if there has been a provisional acc<'ptance of them in the aftermath of reunification, more and more eastern Germans are willing to consider other ~olutions.
Till' Prict of Partnership This book's central point is that effective transfer depends upon policymakers' finding organized groups in civil society who are willing to sponsor or pull in the foreign design. Both the sociological and power aspects of this claim accord with significant findings from domains as different as social protest and international trade negotiations. Anthony Oberschall showed long ago that most "social movements" and "conflict groups" were actually built upon prior networks of social organilation. Using examples ranging from U.S. and Canadian Populist Parties and Frenchjacobins to the American civil rights movement, the Berkeley free speech movement, West African nationalism, and Indian caste movements, Oberschall argued that "new" protest movement'> find it beneficial to engage in "block recruitment" of preexisting groups. 46 Similarly, Leonard Schoppa's study of trade negotiations reveals that American pressme on japan has worked best when teamed with pressure groups inside .Japan. 17 My argument conforms closel} to this general line of thought: policy elites-whether indigenous elites or foreign occupying powers-find effective institutional transfer much easier when they can
-1 t . \\ tlhehn Btul..lm aiiCI Htll..e Rt·lw mtotl. f.lttm 111 !J1'tlllf hlrmd: Nf'kruitienmg rmd fllltglll/1011 (I ewtl..u,t•n: lt•<;l..t· - Hudtkh. 1997) ·G. Empir"h·Mt•thoclisdt<' At bett\gruppe am S<)/ialwi.,.,en't haftliclwn For'Chun~.:veut•um lkrlin·Br.mdt·nbtll K (SFZ). l.eb.11 wllnll\rhlmui (Her! in. Sf Z, I 996), qut•,tiom I 0. II. :!6a. 4(i. Altthom Ohn\dlall. Soda/ C:onflirt nw/ \owrl.\lm•nnnrt ( I- ngkwood Chfh. 'J· Prenttct'· II all 197.1). I~ 1-.1:1; Stclllt'\ ran ow, lt11L•1-r 111 .\lwcmmt: Sonal .\fmwmml>. (.il/lerltt•e ;\rtioll, ami Pol· 1/w ( 'ie" \hrk · Camblidgc t niw1 sit' Pn·''· 1!19-1) 13.·,_ )() 17. L<·onard Srhopp.t, fltllf(atlllrll[ 11•ithjapr111: I\ hat ;\mntmll l'rrwrrf Om and Crmrwl Do ( '\e\\ )(>rk' Columbt,t L lll\t'l"t' l'lt'''· l!l'li); ,,.e .tho Pnc• halh,J,mbeddfd .\ulo/1/llrl\'. .\lnln nnd lnll115lual f'~tmlfmnw/1011 (l'till
20
St~tdymg lmita/1011
recruit preexisting organizations and interest group~ to their institutional agenda. I make the additional claim, substantiated in the empirical chapters, that indigenous groups are crucial to the process of adapting foreign model<, to local conditions. But what if the short-run interests of policy elites who control the legal me< han isms of institutional transfer later diverge from the interests of the groups that sponsored the changes? This potential divergence helps drive the unl<,rseeablc long-run consequences of institutional transfer. Thus, although sponsoring groups arc crucial, they may try to twist the foreign model to their own idt·ological or matenal specifications. Whether or not this happens depends. in part, on certain qualitative features of the groups likely to act as sponsors. For example, Oberschall emphasized that "segmented" groupsthme not tightly linked to the channels of power-were most likelv to be reo uit<~bk for protest. The bonus for protest movements was that because ...egmented groups' leaders had little opportunity to escape to more prestigious mainstream organizations, those groups carried with them an especiallv rich talent pool. IK St·gmented groups are analogous to what I call minority traditions. Minority traditions are institutional ideas that have some organizational foundation but, liJ...c segmented groups, have not become part of the society's dominant institutional tradition. Examples abound: parochial schools in the United States, the provision ofventure capital in most European nations, and civilJan control of the military in many African countries. Minority traditions that han· an organitational basis can act as ~elf-interested ~ponsors of alternative institutional schemes. Further, and again Jil...c their prote't analogues, such sponsor groups can be radicallv transformed as a consequence of rapid growth. Thus, beyond their mere presence or absence in civil society. it is necessary to be aware of their qualitative features and to recogni;e the paradox that am group su·ong enough to help policy elites effectively pull in and implement a foreign design is like!} well situated to turn that design to its own pm poses. This paradox grounds my focus on political choice and struggle. Thn.·e points important to a theory of imitation have emerged so far. First, for an understanding of how foreign-insp1red suuctures can be effectively pulled in to a new setting, a narrow focus on institutional functionalit} will not sufiicc; attention must be paid also to the task of legitimating new structUITS. Second, because foreign models may be poorly understood before the\ arc imitated, the new stmcture!l may provide unexpected opportunities for self-intcre,ted actors to reshape the dl'sign to their own material or moral ends. This uncertainty suggest\ that the ideals and interest\ of <>uch actors ma; themselves be changed in the process of sponsoring the new insututiom. These two point11 speak to the nexus of "interests, institutions. and idea\" -lX. Ol'ler" hall, Sonal Cmrjlut nml.\orwl Mwemmt. 1!>9-60.
21
IMIIAnoN AND PoLITics: REDESIGNI~G MoDERN Gt:RMANY
more broadly and suggest that for imitation to be eiTcctivc, policymakers must focus on more than simply ufit" and "design." 1' 1 Finally, a theory of imitation should not presume a slavish adherence to foreign models, nor should it claim that institutional change emanates exduJwf'l)' from foreign factors. A concept of institutional transfer that admitted onh slavish reproduction driven entirely b~ outside forces would generate a ven small universe of ca<;es. In fact, not even the cases from German reunification can meet this standard. Instead, in exploring the d\ namic~ of institution building through transfer, I presume that imitation can go hand in hand with experimentation and that foreign-domestic coalitions c.m boost the chances of eiTective transfer. This presumption facilitates the inclusion of imitation in manr more cases of institutional change-even those in which imitation is neither the central mode (as it was in the occupation ca:.es) nor an overwhelmingly dominant one (as in the reunification cases). Chapter 2 provides examples where imitation has been an important component of institutional change but where a number of other factors have mattered as well.
•I! I. ~n· l't·tt·r II all, "Tiw Rol(' of I ntcrcsts. III!>Litutiolls, ;mel ldt'a~ in liH' Comp.u ;lliH' Politi t .11 Fe onomy of lndu~trialitccl :-lations," in Compamtit•e Politin: Ratumahl). f:11ltt11P, arul 'itnutwr, t·d. \l.ul-. l11ing I iLhiMdl and Ala11 Zuckerman (N<'" \'otl-.: <.amblidgc tnht•"i" f'~t·"· 19!17), IHH-!IH.
CHAPTER
Two
Embedded Imitation: The Importance of Context With the exception of 1lw imtinc t of 'ell-pre~ervation, the propensity for emulation is probably the 'll<mgest
IIOR\'It.l r-. \'~ 8Lt.N,
Thl'ory of lhf Leisure Class
Policy elites have often turned to foreign designs in the hope not only of meeting demands from their own citit.ens but also of meeting external threaL~ to the integrity of their state. Citizens may regard the imitation of foreign structures as an admission of domestic failure, and so policy elites seldom take lightly the open adoption of roreign institutional models. Yet geopoli6cal rivalry, military occupation, integration into international regimes, and the conditionality of international financial institutions have all prompted elites to use imitation. Brief examples will illustrate each of these four contexts. For geopolitical competition, I review material from the moderniLation of Meiji Japan. For military occupation, I dra\\ on tlw French and Soviet occupations in postwar Germany. On regime integration. I review the accession ofEa~tern and Central European states to the European Union (EU). And for the institutional conditionality context, I look at the experiences of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF). M' purpose is to suggest the range of uses of imitation and to emphasite that imitation is, in each case, embedded in a broader foreign and donwstic political context; it occurs alongside other (nonimitative) forces that act on institutions. Separately, each sketch generates questions of general importance. Together, these examples provide compelling evidence that imitation has been signif-icant in episodes of major institutional reconstruction.
MEIJIJAPAN: RATIONAL S!IOJ>PIN(; AND NATIO'IAL INTEGRITY
Elites in :\1cijijapan ust.·d imtitutional transfer to su·engthen their society against the threat of foreign petWll at ion and the rt.·duction of national sov22
23
Embedded Imitation
IMIIAI'ION AND POLITICS: RJ;.DJ;.SIGNING MODJ;.RN GtRMANY
crcignty. 1 If elites attempt to protect their own traditions by becoming more like thol>c they fear, perhaps imitation is highly strategic. Ccnainlv, one key image flowing out of the Meiji case has been the notion of "rational shoppcrs"-polin <'lites who carefull} search the globe for institutions "appmpriatc" enough to their cultural character to allow adoption yet capable of promoting a desirable modernization of some institutional domain. Mciji has functioned as a rich, if inconclusive, data source on rational shopping. Tomihide Kashioka used Meiji's famous l>tudv-abroad program as a windm' into the empire's strategies for institutional emulation. H1s finding"·'" that "in terms both of the fields of study and countries of sojourn, the Monbusho study-abroad program was governed by shrewd considerations for practicalit' and utili1ation vis-a-vis the nation's developmental strategies." Engineering. industry, law, and education were the most important areas of influence, and the most prominent sources of inspiration-in order of descending importance-were Germany, Britain, France, and the United States. Kashioka argued that Meiji judiciously avoided bot.h borrowing haphanrdly from a series of states and relying exclusively on one national model (as he found that former colonies tended to do). H is argument thus endorsed the rational-shopper model proposed by the Meiji elites themselves.~ A stiff challenge to his image of the rational shopper comes from Eleanor Westney's study of Mciji borrowings from Western Europe of models for police organization, the postal system, and daily newspapers. Although she docs not discuss Kashioka's study. she provides evidence that the rational-shopper concept was a tool of the state to promote acceptance of what might otherwise have appeared as "mere imitation.~ National pride led Meiji leaders to give the process a veneer of rationality. In actuality, however, J apanese <;tate and societ} made very substantial adaptations in order to incorporat<.' the European models. \ For thb book, broadening the questions seems more useful than adjudicating the fight. Rather than assessing how "rational~ particular acts of imitation anuall} were, I suggest that researchers regard rational shopping as one of several elite techniques designed to promote the legitimacy of transfened institutions. This raises an important question to which I retw nat several points: hO\\ can scholars move beyond a focus on the "suppl}" of ideas through netwo• ks of bureaucratic elites to issues of "demand" f01 institutional changes which link policymakers to their own domestic clientele?
I. Al lan Mit that in the same pt·liod <•t'llllSJ>t'(i.tllv f01 \O!'iali\t ancllihc1 ;tl Rqmhlit .tm); \t't' I hr (;,·mum I 11jlumrp in Fmnu ojil'l' 1870 ( 1979). V1rton 1111tl \111Uftllllll'll ( I!IH I) . •uHI 1'11' /Jnwlnll'ath (I !J!) I). all from Chapel Hill: Uni\ersitv ol Nonh Camlina 1'1 t'"· ~. lomihick "-t,hiol.a. "l\1eiji Japan\ Studv Abroad Program" (l'h.D di". lluJ..t· l 'ni\!·1\ilv, I!IH~).np. II II. :1. ~ lt'.lltol \\t•,tnn. lmtllllion and lnrw••ation (Camblid.l(t'' H,tl\,ud l lll\l'"i'' P~t·"· 19Hi). :!1-~1.
24
THJ:: FRENCH
Avn-MonFI. A:>~n
'I HE
I l EAVY SonET
HAND
Cnder military occupation, cxt<.·rnal pressures change from threat to coercion. The U.S. and British occupations form a central pillar of this study. but posn,·ar Germany wa~ powerfulh !>hapcd b\ two other victorious powers as well: the French and the SoYiets. Quick!} realizing that, contrary to wartime planning assumptions. fom-power government would not exist, each nation moYed to shape developments in it'> own zone of occupation. Along a crude specu·um of the extent to which e.tch occup,ing power tried to reshape its zone in its own instjtutional image. the Americans and the British fall between the (maximalist) SmieL~ and the (minimalist) French. Alone among the Allies, the French showed little sustained interest in institutional transfer. They we• t' determined to prevent the reemergence of any kind of unified national German state and also tried to block the centralization of social actors such as trade unions. 1 In their attempts to promote localization of German political life and to force on Germany a weak state, French elites sought the polar opposite of their aspirations for their own nation. Their hope of building a stronger French state made decentralization appear as an obvious anti-model for keeping Germany from reasserting itself politically. This fiercely asserted preference for decentralized solutions in Germany was eminently clear in the French policies both for administrative structures of the state and for social organizations. The defeated Germans did not deserve French inMitutions. By conu·ast, the Soviet 10ne of occupation saw intensive efforts at institutional transfer both before and, ec;pecialh, after the proclamation of the German Democratic Republic in 19·!9. \ Although the 1949 CDR constitution had a decidedlv bourgeois democratic look on paper, this document was rapidly superseded bv an aggressi\e effort to implant Soviet-style socialism in East Germany; a popular propaganda slogan wa<> "To learn from the Smiet Union means to learn victory!~ This effort reached a high point "ith the 1952 Communist Party Congre-.s, which called for the "building of socialism.~ The Party used state mgans, esperially the secret police and the Ministry of Justice. to try to remake institutions in tht• image of those existing in the USSR. As always, the institutional transkr pr<~ect was embedded in a larger set of interstate politics. But whereas the /OIH's of western Germany quickly became embedded in a set of comjJh'mt'nlarv economic arrangements that halted reparations and allowed them relatively open trading relations under a weak currency, the CDR paid very large reparations and adopted an economic system
-1. Clam Schad and l!.tm
.Jtll~t·n ~dui>dt·l,
t•tk, I)" Omt"h/ruulpoitllk hm1krrirl11 1111d ""
f7tmtii~i,rhr 7AnP. 1915-·19 (\\ 11'\h,tdt'n: F. ~lt'IIH'I, 19H:l) 5. See '\.,m,tu Nalllhuf... 1/u Uu"""'' 111 (;nmllln (C.tmh11dge. Mas;.: BeiJ..nap Pr<:>>. ~51-:\5~:
Ht>rmann 1991). <''P· 10- Hi.
\\'!'1)(•1. IJJ>U: (.mmlrtjJ tin
1995). (,·"huhtr. 19-15-1990 (Hano,er: FacJ..duagt'l.
25
IMI rA'IION A'
Pou II<'>:
RLot:sJG:-.~INt: 1\lon~.RN GFR\1A'
Embeddf'd lmitntin11
geared toward produdng selfwjficiency in he'l\) industn in each countr\' in which it was implanted bv the Soviets." · A distinctive feature of Soviet institutional u am.fer was a strict system of personnel control-nommklatura. The So, it·t occupation force not onh dominated man} queMions of institutional design but also carefull) controlled who would be allowed to populate the institutions. Personnel control helped guarantee that these institutions were embraced by Party chief Walther Ulbricht and other lop leaders and implemented with more or less enthusiasm by thousands of committed Communists of the Socialist Unity Party (SED). This extreme case offers a glimpse at the broader point that redcs~~ning institutions in accordance with foreign models may open up compeuuve advantages fot one group over others. Knowing that institutional c~an~es motivated b\ efficiency or equity concerns can have important distrJbuuve effects, one must ask whether these eflccts might not be exacerbated by the process of imitation, during which the conception of change is often unclear and its real effeCL'> uncertain.
TrrE FIELD
OF DR~:AMS
IN EASTERN AND
c~:NTRAL
EUROPE
The fall of Communist regimes in Eastern and Central Europe in 1990 precipitated a rush to determine the pathways to ma1 J...et economies and po~itical democracies. Although social science shared in the general triumphalIsm of that moment. tt was not long before caution,ln voices warned of the likely difficulties of establishing particular Westt•rn institutional forms in these "transi tiona!" societies. 7 Part of the broad('r debate about institutional change in Eastern Europe has focused on the appmpriateness of Westernstyle institutions and has featured charges of institutional fetishism and cultural insensitivity.~< For some critics Western "help" is simply a chimera. For ~xample, Stanley Katz-invoking significant formal and interpretive changes m the U.S. constitution over time and also his impression that Western "legal consultants" in East(•m Europe were offering supe1 flcial answers to serious constitutional questions-argues that outsiders can ofler little help to East Europeans in their constitution writing. In his ,;e\\, true constitutionalism is not an institutional mod(' I at all but a style of poliucs that respects law and codifies local tradition!>. He urges East European states to sift through their
fi. :-\aimark, NU.IIirllll in (,,.lllltl/1_), ·11H. Specialintion 111111111Klht• ( oun-e'' \or I..: ( •• rmhr idgt• l'niH·rsm i>rt·"· 1!~IK)
own traditions f(>l solutions." Thomas Carothe•'>'s excellent study of U.S. democracy-as5i'>tance programs in Romania also criticizes efforts to promote particular institutional designs. suggesting "openness~ as a more appropriate goalY' As correctives to the superficial and short-term institutional hucksterism of many visiting experts, these cautionary views have much to recommend them. Yet to put Katz's own point in a different light, emphasizing the value of respect for law presupposes laws worthy of respect. Particular positive values indigenous to the region need institutional homes if they are to prevail in the long run over other indigenous values to which they are opposed. It is ob\'ious that then· i'> no reason such institutional schemes must come from outside the socicl) yet clear enough that tlwy might. But seeing imitation as a struggle blurs th<.· line between historical traditions. imitation. and sub'equent innovation. Privileging political actors allows one to assess the problem-solving capacity of those actors, who exist separate from institutions. Thus, building institutions through imitation also presupposes strengthening those actors who work through them. Yet there arc still more questions than answers on the link between imitation and the development of interests. Previously weak actors may become su·onger and richer as a consequence of sponsoring new institutional de~ign s, but can institutional transfer actually create actors where none existed prc\iously? This question is asked with increasing frequency in the new democracies and half-democracies of Eastern and Cenu·al Europe. Can institutional designs, some of which are clearly modeled on \\'est European or even Amt•• ican structures, call into existence the kind of organized groups that have helped make such institutions effective in their country of origin? For example, to what extent can a series of new consumet protection laws spark the generation of speciali1ed private organizations whose pupose is to promote that awareness of consumer rights and that articulation of consumer interests whose existence the laws presume? To paraphrase a Hollywood film, if state elites build the strucru• es, will ci,·il societv come? This question is profound!\' important becaus(' ne\' actors are needed for the new democracies to fulfill the conditions of the so-called Europe Agreements. the goal of which is to prepare the counu ies for EU membership. The question of imitation is thus bound up with two other crucial issues: the development of civil society and state adminisu·ative capacity and the pursuit of these state!>' mo:.t important foreign policy goal. The EU's Phare Program, a commission instrument for promoting the eventual accession oi'East9. Stanln '-.tV Co11\llllllumal/Jnnorrary in (Rnlmlf·llwJ" ft~tla\'. (;l'nnan Hbtoricrl hl\llllllt' l~cture (\\a~hington D ( (;HI, 1993). See al\o .\nell,,, ~;IJO. "lui\ l'l ,a( Righ...-. \1i"ion.u ic·'· Comer h. and Lo<.tl "·'' .t~c·,," in Fmt f ""'P"m Gml/tllllumal Un•lt'lt' li (\\'inter I !l!l7). 11- 1'1. 10. Thoma' C.uolht·"· \Ht'IIIIIJ! Dnnorra0 .~\\11/1111a /Ju Gt" •if Rnmmua (\\'a\hlll~Jon, () ( . C.un<:~ie Endo\\mt·nJ. I!I'Hi). 1~!1-:~~.
26 27
IMITA 110'1 A 'Ill
PoLITIC'>:
Rr.or.siGNIN\.
l\·1ouutN
Gt:R"IANY
ern countries. encourages these governments to engage in act!> of "kgislative appmximation." Such approximation \~ill give them institutional and policy '>tructurcs compatible with those of the EU in policy areas from agri('u)turc to \aim· addt•ct taxt•s (VAT). Phare's task is to "concentrate on building Mate .md non-state institutions and organizations critical for the functioning of ademoet a tic, marl.. t.·t-oriented system." 11 \1ore informally, Pharc offici<\ Is describe the proct.·ss as "fitting the prospective members for the European straitjacket," although it is a straigacket prospective members clcarh wish to wca1 . 1 ~ The Commission White Paper in which this "pre-accc-.sion stratt'g\" is laid out contains man} references to the need not onl} to pas!> Ill'\\ laws but also to develop competent implementation.'~ The problem is that Ph are's exhortations to build actors capable of enforcing new laws are buried in laundry lisLs of institutional designs that would be consistent with EU mt.·mbership. Disconcertingly, these EU documents often cast the creation of actors to enforce compliance with the new rules as another in a long series of essentially lfrhniral tasks. 11 This complicated interplay between foreign designs and th<' building of indigenous actors matters increasingly as institutional thresholds for EU membership are articulated by the commission in iLs 1998 comments on the Polish, Czech, Hungarian, Slovenian, and Estonian membership applications and in the ongoing "screening" of these countries' laws in :~I difl'crent domains."'
MtiJ.TI I.An RAL
LENDING AND INSTITUTIONAL CO'IDI riONALI rY
Conditionality refers to demands made on borrowers bv lenders-here, the World Bank and the IMF-which go beyond the panncnt of interest and fcc-; on Joan principal. The aims of conditionality-based lending have been quite varied, including regulatoq wJiberaliLation." povcrt\ reduction, democratitation, reduced military spending, and protection of the environment. II. Pha11 ,.Jal11nl~111lr/ /CJCJ-1 (Unr"eh: Phare, 1994). 9. 12. lnu·r 'H'"': 1\ru"d~. l!l!Hi, 199H. Siuce mam of"" inteniew r c·,pnncll'nt' 'pol..!' on tht• umdition ol c onlidentiali"· I ha\(' ('ho~en to id<:ntif' all iutl'nit·"' onh h' ntv ,urcl vc·.u. Foo ,1 dl\c u"ion of the in,ti1trtion.rl implic-ation~ of potential 1-:l mt•mbt·"lup in a non pcht·(ommuui'J ca\t', 'l't' Anion Pelinl...r. "()_.erreich: El-\1itgliedS<'halt al' K.rt.lh'>.Lt'll.int c·omm / oll whitt•/ inclc·x t'tJ.htm. I t. ( )nh r c•c c·nth have Ell publications begun to 'tre5' the magnit uck ol the c hallengt'' that 'till lie· .rltc·.rd in building c·apacity to implemeut the;e refonm. l·01 .tn ,.,,nnpk. "'''lilt' Ctnh "i.Hion,rl l'r.tin Jill{ Fund ~tudl, l'mpowl;Jor a Strategy of Pubilr ,\dmmil/111/um Rrfmm 111 till' C~l'lh Ul'fmhl/1' ( 1\tu"t·k Ph.n<·. I !l9H). I "•. \\'adeJ.ttohl, "The LL' ,,, a Force in the Dome~tir Politi<' ol ~.1\lt'tll FtllO(l<'." /.111/ Fuw/HIIII ( .m/111111/11111111 Un·rnt•H (I 2) (1999): 62-67.
28
Embed
The means to pursue these ends arc also potentially broad, ranging from persuasion to technical or material support to pressure in the form of promised rewards or threat'> of the loss of future funding.'h Some conditions for loans are couched in institutional terms (a classic demand is for more central bank independence), but the\ mm also be in terms of policy content-say. spending less on a subsidv or lowering a tarifl. Thus, onlv some conditionality project!> involve imitation of institutions that exist elsewhere; others spring from an idcal-t\pical "Washington comensm" on economic policy or simply ask the borrowers to cut back -;orne ongoing practice." Even \\ithin the context of conditionality, institutional imitation is rarely the sole modality for institutional change, since it is so fraught with spnbolic and practical risks. Like many other cases of imitation. conditionality has a political context that mixes coercion and choice. As the financial and debt crises of the late 1970s and early 1980s accekrated, the two major multilateral institutions turned toward a new kind of knding often described as "policy-based." In contrast to the traditional "proj<'ct-based lending," the new loans could be disbursed quickly to head on· balance-of-payments crises and were given to government officials without the requirement of strictly defined "projects." Such non project support had grown to over 25% of the World Bank's portfolio by the end of the 1980s. In the early 1990s, \>\-ith an environment marked by significant private capital flows, the end of the Cold War, and increased democracy, some scholars saw the era of conditionality as on the decline. JK But recent financial crises in Asia, Russia, and Brazil soon led to a new wave of conditions.''' Does conditionalit\ work? It appears that the changes achieved have been modest. relative to the asprrations of the multilaterallenders. 2" Loans to address immediate balancc-of-panncnts problems seem especially ill suited to generate incentives for institutional changes over the long term. 21 Yet according to one large studv, despite many variations in different national
16. On encb aud mc·an,, "''' Joan \ki\Cm .mel '>u•phanie Fglinton, Global Goal1, Ctmtmtw111 .\/mr11 (\\'; 1\hingtun, D.C.: 0\l't>ol'il' D<·~t·lopmc·ut Counnl. 199:1), 2H-:1t, 52-55.
17. The World 1\anl.. ha' m.1dc· ''"PPIII!; tliC' pt.ltllce of female circumcision a coudition of H'· tent luau\ to \onw \It i< an co11nt t ;,., (intc•J 1 ic·": W.t .. hington, 199G). \lotl' that conditioualit' can aho he u.,ed to 1 c·move in,tttlliHttl\ of "marl..c·t cli\JOttlnn," \IIC'h a~ marketing boat ds. 18. See joan t\ehon. "I\ tht· b ,1 of ( :onclttiott,tlrl\ l'a<,t?" (\\'orking Paper 1995/72,juan Mar ( h lmtitute, :\laclrid), I 2. l~l. The rel.rtion~hip ht'l\\('{'11 lc•uclc•l .II HI ho11 0\H't, h011t'l l't, rather than th<: actual 't'veritl of lht' borrower's tTouomic pt nhlc-nl\, '''t'lll\ Jo dt'll't mine most th<: tt'rms of Lh<:s<: couditioualil\ package,. St·t· Paul Mmln. J.tm·ll.lltig.lll. and .John Tole,/'ml'l'fWid .lid: The Hhr/d Bank all(/ l'uli!) -Bmnll.nulmK, 2 1nk (l.onclott. Rotttkclgt•, 1~190), I :90, 116-29. Nelson and Eglinton (Clobal (;()(,[;, 61-67) clo 'how Jh.ll <'conomit.tlh WC'ak cottullit•s with heaw clepenclence on Jhe World Ran 1.. at c· 'ubjnlnllo ntllc h mot c· cnnditionalitl Jhan thO\t' with higher leveh of gro'' clo11\t'\lic procluJe,, Harrigan , ancl 'lolt', Hm~r 11111/ \u/, I ; li, 21. :--:el'><>n ancl Fglitttntt. (;[ol>a/ (,,,z[l, 17
29
IMIIAI'ION AND POLITICS: REDESIGNING MODERN GERMANY
settings "one factor remains constant: where there is articulate opposition to poliry reform, as there usually is, that opposition must be overcome somehow if impl.emen.ta~iOI~ is to take place." 2 ~ How then is conditionality blocked? .\fan) Ime mlllll>tnes have been unwilling to implement conditionality agreemenL~ struck between the lending agencies and the finance 01 economics J~linistries, which ty~ically negotiate the packages. Overcoming that opposiuon ma, often ental! a more aggressive policy to structme loans in ways that build up the co.mpetence and authority of line minisuies: for ex-a defect this book tries to overcome. The11e foregoing examples show that imitation occurs in a politiciLed context in which policy elites face both pressures from domestic constituent~; and pressure or coercion from external actors. Although there is some evidence t~lat s~>ci~~tics undergoing major transformativc processes may more aggressrv~Jy nmtate ~t~1ers, many other cases of imitation occur against J~1irly stable soc1al and poh11cal backgrounds.~4 Thus, imitation can be geared either to exploit opportunity or to respond to a crisis, and it is clear that the kinds of structur~·s ~nvolv.ed are often absolutely central to security, democracy, and prospenty Ill a g1ven nation. Embedding imitation in such political contexl~ breaks down a simple distinction between purely "voluntary" and purely "cocreed" ideal tvpes, raising in il~ stead a series of more sophisticated and interesting questions. Framing these as research questions is the next step.
IN<, llTU 110'-IAI TRANsi-·1-:R AS A PROXY FOR htiTATION
lnstitution.tl transfer and imitation arc not smonnns. Rather, tran'>fcr is one \\<1}-pcrhaps C\'en the most important-in which imitation can occur. Since I usc institutional transfer here as a proxy for imitation, it is useful to CO~lsi~lc•. that process in more detail. Rather than attempting to specify "laws of.mmatton," I provide a "heuristic of imitation" that suggests ways to unravel th1s cor.11plex fragmented Four blocJ..s of issue.s emerge as crucml, and 111 each block l speciry possible lines of analysis of "imitative
a~d
phenomenon.~"
22. \!o,IC'\, ll.u, igan, and ToH", Pmwr and Aid, 2:30 I. 2:1. !hid., :lOCi.
~:01 ~IH' '""''~·'·."'<·.John S~udw, .
. 2•1. Ikenberry, "Explaining the Diflu,ion ofSI.tle N01m.,·· (lnu· u, • 1 1· lll>llitlll'\lt'Wl'd 111\"on.U1on Ill<• poli< v honowiug fil<'l,t IIIH' ( h
~l't'
2!i. (;,tfuil'l 'l,trd<'. llu '-11w1 rif!mitation, tram. F.l,ie Clew, Parson, ('\t•w ,i,J..: ll<·n 1!11>:1).
llolt, 11
Embl'dded Imitation
processes": that is, situations where actors u~e imitation as part of som~ broader political context. The four blocks run 111 rough order from the motivations, agrnt1, and tn·oaJ.\f'\ of imitation to its IP.5Ulls: why do elites attempt imitation? who pushes imitation? whirh kinds of social, political, or commercial phenomena arc seen as worth) of imitation? how docs that process proceed? H1l) Imitation?
The most common jmtifiuttions for imitation are that it may promote either efliciency or justice, and most other moti\'es can ultimately be seen.as dcrivati,·es of these basic themes. Each motive can result in the emulauon of institutional designs either within or across national boundaries. Clearly, much imitation i~ motivated by the desire for efficiency, the hope of performing some task bettc1. For example, German vocational u·aining has so often been identified as a source of increased productivity that many nations have sought to imitate either its principles or its institutions-so much so that the Ministry of Education and Science has a special office to field inquiries. Moreover, even within the German system the constant search for improvement has generated an elaborate process of model expcrimcnLs, accompanied by pedagogical assessment, for possible diffusion throughout the national systemY" One can expect policy elites to pursue efficiency gains through imitation as long as scholars of comparative government (and the business press) continue to identify and publicize variations in institmional effectiveness. Other imitations purport to increase fairness or justice. Progressive taxatjon of income and child labor laws mav spread from state to state. At the intemationallevel the widespread inclusion of declarations of individual rights in written constitutiom has occasiotMll\' been inspired by the U.S. Bill of Rights or the French Declaration of the Rights of Man. . . Of course, conceptiom of efficienc" and justice can also mouvatc resrstance to imitation.~; For cn·n claim that imitation will increase efficiency, justice. or control, there
26. 1\:olice ht••e thai illli!Ollioll <><< '"' 111\/t/, IJ,Jlioll,lf boJrl<''' (1h1ough the diffusion of '"cn·..,sful experiment\) al 1he ,,,nw Iilii<' 1h.11 ini<•IJJ,tl di,er\itl is hftondeci uutlo explain the "hasit \1\Lem" to prospenin·loJ<'igll hwww<·•'· . 27. See Ronald DOJe, "Com<'lgt'll
30 31
1\111 \riO:-! A 'II> POLITIC~:
Rt 1H SIGNI!>oG
i\101>1:.R.'\
Embedlb>d /nutation
Gt RMA'IY
which the model is celebrated. Some uncertain situations may privilege small cliques of decision makers who can parlay that uncertainty into brief influence or even enduring power.~" In other words, descriptions of foreign practices can be Sl)'lzud by political actors to help simplify and channel political discussion. None of this is meant to denigrate the search for efficiency or justice. My premise is simply that translating principles of either one into institutional su·uctures is as difficult and conte~table as it is ''ital for a democran. Who Drives Imitation?
Indi,idual cititen~> may admire foreign institutions and private interest groups may promote policy borrowing, but under this book's definition all attempts at formal institutional transfer must pass through state ollicials. For two reasons this definition is broad enough to cover both voluntaristic "borrowing" and transfer under duress. First, since all policymaker~> face pressures, typologiting those pres.\ures is, at this early stage of research on imitation, analytically much less useful than pursuing regularities across the great variety of situations where imitation is used. Second, the distinction between voluntarist imitation by a sovereign actor and imitation forced upon a subordinate actor is vulnerable to the objection that overlapping authority often makes the sovereign-subordinate distinction unconvincing. More fruitful are simple judgments about whether motives for imitation come primarily from external pressure or from within a society.'"' As a first step it is important to distinguish between imitation under occupationwhere foreign soldiers influence or indeed make political choices-and that conducted by indigenous state officials (who may still feel enormous pressure from foreign armies, IMF officials, interest groups. or voters). The reason that external-internal pressures deserve analytical priority lies in the hypothesis introduced earlier: state policy elites may well depend upon existing actors in civil society to make transfer effective. If this hypothesis proves fruitful, there arc good theoretical reasons to expect that those linkages to civil society are of a qualitatively di(I'erent (and more problematic) order for occupying armies. But although the formal authority to launch imitation is important, many institution-building processes arc so complex that mere orders can hardly secure the intended results. For example, in both the periods studied in this book, shifts in sovereignty led to shifts in processes ofrmitation. The U.S. and British occupation forces wen· often unable or unwilling to bluntly impose
their own institutional designs on the Germans. As the Allied forces-which beg-an the occupation \\t·nts as it does in establishing specific parameters of, sav. labor market regulation. It is in this sense that actors can be built even as formal institutiom are built. Commercial actors also engage in struggles over what formal authority to imitate. For example, managers might disagree with shareholders or with workers over which practices to imitate and over whether their contest'> should be re~ohed through recourse to property rights or to ~ome form of mediation. In all these arenas, processes of imitation arc bound up with issues or contestation and control. \W1id1 Phmomena AfJfJear l\orth Imitating?
Objects of imitation can be located in the realm of the state, society, or commerce and at both formal and informal levels. As the simplest wa} to unpack this t·angc, I limit the ca'>es in this book to focus on institutions having a legal basis. This means that I auempt no systematic analysis of the informal norms present in all "organizational cultures." beyond making ewry effort to note informal practices that directly shape the functioning of transferred in'titutions. 111 Moreover, I include only fonnal institutions of the state (school \tructuies) and sodcty (industrial relations laws), thus excluding the commerciallevcl of firm-to-firm imitation of business practices or technologies.:11 The bencf1t of using the concept of institutional transfer to explme period~ of large-~calc societal transformation carrie' the price of limiting the focus to
30. Rit hard Scott. "l IIJMLking ht,tiwtional.-\q{HIIH'IIh ," in I}., ' ' "' bHiliiii1111WIHm "' Orgam w.•ht·r Powell and P.nol Oi\Ia~:gio (Chicago: t IHH'r.it\ ot ('lritago Pr('"· 1991). 31. Tlw ckliniti1e worJ.. on te('hnolog'l uam.fer lt' no,um E1ereu RogNs, 'fl
2!\. .John 1\,enlx·rT\, -.\World EnliWIIl\ Re~toto:d." hrln'Tiatwnal (hgllntwlum -tli ( 1992): 2R!l:121.
29. 01 nnu~. thi~ dhlrnction e
32
33
IMJTATIO' A:>:D POLJJJCS:
Rt m
'>IGXJ:>:G 1\loot.RJ'
formal institutions. But this limitation is strictly practical and not theoretical; imitation of informal institutions cries out for further anahsis, as docs more theoretically informed investigation of finn-level imitation. ·• I also focus on the constitution of actors by looking at rules for defining the acu.~ptable forms of soda I organiLation and the boundaries for their spheres of action. Put simply. just as institutions help suunure politics, actors help structure the institutions, and this proccs~ in turn shapes actors in profound ways. Perhaps two brief examples (covered in detail later) can suggest what I mean. In post-World War II German\, Allied-German refmm struggles in industrial relations not only turned on issu('S of what unions rould do but also turned into a dispute about what unions were: agcnt..s of economic bargaining, or agents of political democratiLation. And in eastern Germany today, wlwn works councilors make IMndshal..c deals with the managers of their firms to disregard supposedly binding wage contracts, the practice weakens not only formal collective bargaining agrcement~ as such but also the collective actors who pursue them. Actors can change themselves even a-; they structure institutions, and since transfer so compresses processes of institutional change, it is an excellent van tagc point from which to study this interaction. How Does Tmnsfer Pro((w/?
Within the concept of institutional transfer, three final distinctions are needed, corresponding rough!) to breadth, depth, and intensity of imitation. The first distinction is between wholesale and piecemeal transfer; the second, between exact transfer and the functional equivalent approach; the third, between continuous intc1 action and l.ingle-moment u ansfer. Each pair f01 ms a spectrum oflogical possibilities, and an attempt at transfer may lie anywhere along each spectrum, making logicallv possible rnany permutations of the thH·c. Some combinations seem much more likely th
:1:! A good 'ununan ol dndopnwnh in thi' lilt·c,uurt· j, Ric hard :\el">n. "Ren·m ~\olu lion.u\ fheorl/1111-: about Lconomic Ch.lllge."jownfll of f;rmwmu f.tii"Talwr. :tl (1995). IX · 90. :1:1. For exampk. an imporl.mtslucl) ol Europt'ia/1•11/I"TP>/\rl// (;n-mllu\.lrtmu. awl !ltltam (.\ld<•r,hot. Fng.: J:ch,ard Elgac. 1989). :!'1:!-97.
34
Hmhfdlkd Imitation
Gt R\IA:>:Y
the institution without its normal support network; the wholesale transfer approach wrongly presumes that it is possible to tell where institutions-especial!\ those that work well-begin and end. Tal-e tilt' H'vealing case of Intel. This company, the global leader in computer chip pmduction, has long attempted to "lock in" the design of the fabrication plant for each new generation of its pentium chip~ through a corp01 ate poliC) called "COPY EXACTL\~" The program sounds simple: in each new factory. copy <.'\Cf)'thing exactly from the designated model factory unless the board approves a deviation. Gaining such approval is a slow and difficult process, however, for closer inspection shows that even in this case no one knows (or thn disagree about) what must be copied and what can be safely left out.~4 Here one sec~ c)earh the uncertainty of institutional boundaries: one of America's most successful firms, in a business it understands possibly better than anyone else, still reveals substantial uncertainty over how to conduct this kind of transfer program. In short, the question of how much to transfer is always likely to he con testable. The notions of exact transfer and functional equivalence, introduced briefly in Chapter I, are abstractions that bound a range of interesting possibilities bv excluding some less interesting ones. Policymakers can use either stratc~ at the level of constituting an actor, designing an institution, or creating a policy. But neither strategy is suitable for creating democracy, capitalism, or socialism (although democratization may involve many cases of insti· tutional transfer at, for example, the level of the legal basis of interest groups, the design of pari iamen tary commi ttccs, or the promulgation of specific laws concerning freedom of the press). Also excluded are cases of imitation that do not kad to formal institutional changes based mPaningfull)' on foreign models -such as a domestically dri\'Cn change about which some rx post rhetoric refers to the virtues of similar foreign designs. That is public relations, not politics, and it is up to scholars to look past rhetoric and understand the difference. Exact transfer is the allnnpt to reproduce exactly certain laws that either constitute social and state actors in the first place or regulate their interactions. '\otice that "exact" 1cfers to the ambition of pol in makers and not to their arl11evemnzt. An institution u·ansferrcd ex,\cth rna) fail to pcdonn its anticipated function in the new society; alternatively, it may perform that function to a much Jr'l"atrrextent than did iL~ original. For example, following German reunification, exact u ansfer \\as tried in many institutional domains including the "employment and training companies" developed by West Getman unions for economic crisis regions. A minor institutional practice in
3-1. S('(' cht· suah ol "'COPY EXACTI.)1"' hy Ftic Feal', ".\n Anah'i' ol the Elkn ofTechnol o~ Tr ""''•·• \1ethoclolo).,'"\ on \1anulacturahilil\ all() Su\t,un.thilitv"' (lhnt\, SloanS< hool of l\1,ut-
agemt"nt, \11 r. 1991). :1:!-33.
35
hfi'I'Af ION AND
Pou J JCS:
REDESIGNING .MODJ<.RN (;~ RMANY
·west Germany, the formation of such companies has, in the context of massive job losses, become a major pillar of the eastern German labor market.:l'• Thus the concept of exact transfer is suggestive of the aim.\ of policymakers as the, attempt institutional transfer, but it does not rule out the· isomorphism in function or scope which may occur in the process. The functional equivalent approach does not try fot exact rept oduction of institutional forms. Rather, poliqmakers, on their O\\n or influenced b\ academic writing or political propaganda, abstract from a foreign institution a functionalt,\sk which is, in theiniew, incompleteh or poorh fulfilled in their own socien. Functional analysis, out of favor as a tool of soci,\1 science, certainh lives on a\ a technique for imagining institutional redesign from the point of,icw ofjJolicymakers. I characterize most Allied efl<>rts at institutional tramfcr a!> following the functional equivalent approach. Tlw final dimension, that of intensity, distinguishes between a single decision to transfer and a process of imitation that occurs over an extended period. Of course, even in an ideal-typical case of single-moment transfer, the foreign model will presumably have attracted potential imitators for some timc. 'lh The distinction calls attention, however, to difl'crenccs between cases in which a single legislative act encompasses all the interchange bcnveen the two societies and those in which either personnel, aid, or political influence continues to lubricate the flow of ideas about institutional designs. Continuous processes often involve such tools as benchmarking, formal partnerships, and personnel transfer. In the first of these-benchmarking-firms, social actors, and state organizations can all monitor international developments and look to pull in the best innovations from elsewhere." Given this approach, some relationships develop over time, so that imitation can be sequential. Kashioka 's and Westney's studies of Meiji japan show both how the japanc-.c emulated multiple institutions from the same European societies and also how, within a single institutional area, the\ returned to ask questions 01 c:mulate modifications. Second, formal partnerships often exist which can snvc as channel'> of communication. Of interest since German reunification,
:l!i. Ct•t ht is often attempted in policy domaim that haH· ,t kgan of f.tihuc, shm·t· tt·tm Lliltll<' dot·s not prt•clude the institution's becoming meaningfulunclt·t uufmt•st•t•n future drnunsl.tntt·~· N.Hio.m <·;u.l borrm, "possibilitie~" a; well as imrirutions by injening m·w rlesigns 11110 lht·u nauon.tl d"n"stons. even if those design> remain IH'al.. or tutimplt•mt•ntt•d fm some I imt·. lit' II' is H'l .tnotlu:r 1 ea~on for scholars to take a long-tctm JH'rspetrilt' on iustillltional tr,msft•t and p;tv allention to minot itv traditions. :17. 1\t•nrhm.ul..ing I'!'(CiH:s its ft;llcst theotctical exposition to d.ue in Midtad Dod and ( hatles Sahd. ",\ ( onstirution of Democratic F.xpcrim('ntalimt." in GJ/umlna /.au• J(,•t•u·w !l!l (2), ( 1!19H): !!li7 17:1. Fm its application to the German puliC\ debare, se<· rhe H·potr on the Alliance fot Johs "Be tH h111.ul..ing Working Group" bv Wolfgang Suee<·l.. and Rolli It-inn·. "\n \tlwit khlt "' nt< ln." 111 \fnrwll~l (1999): 3H--t5. IH
n,.,
36
Embedded Imitation
state- and city-level partnerships between western and eastern German local overnments have promoted institutional transfer. Third, and related to for. I g . . h mal parmerships, personnel transfer can be .Important 111 t e cont111u~ exchange of institutional information. All these 1ssues are explored below 111 the discussion of how transfct stralf'g) shapes transfer outcomes.
M£THODS A!'.D COMPARI'>OI\S
This book uses case studie-. to generate and explore hypotheses about imitation. Since institutional transfer is neither inevitable nor impossible, only the detailed exploration of individual cases can reveal the contingent links between competing conceptions of institutional design. \>\'hat is more, case studies allow one to judge the outcomes of institutional transfer against the qualitative standards of imtitutional performance and persistence, rather than merely checking to sec if the institution is "on the books," as in diffusion studies. These cases arc not intended as freestanding accounts of either the AngloAmerican occupation or of German reunification; rather, they work to explore claims about the politics of imitation. Growing secondary literatures (documented in the footnotes) have chronicled the broad processes of social, political, and economic change in each period. The method here, however, is to compare different institutional domains within two broader efforts in which policymakers with vast formal authority attempted transfer. The classic comparative approach to case studies, which calls for ma.ximum similarity in all factors taken as external to the study and for differences only along the dimensions hvpothesi;ed to "explain" outcomes, can obviously not be maintained here.~ \\'estern German} after 1945 and eastern Germany after 1989 faced am number of unique challenges, and although reunification has been called a "natural experiment," it is hardly a controlled one. It is nccessal). therefore, to take a brief look at the dimensions along which these broad cases are and arc not comparable. Two crucial diflcrenccs between the periods, political exposure and economic background, further illuminate the importance of state strategies of institutional transfer and thus do not require inclusion as additional explanatory variables. The first difference concerns the degree to which the sovereign powers were exposed to the results of their handiwork: the AngloAmerican occupation powers knew they would ultimately leave German.y for good, whereas the problem since reunification has been that of one society absorbing another and therefore having something different at stake. Has :'18. Ar('nd l.ijphatl. "Comp.u.uht· Point< s .tnd the ColllJ.M~
37
IMt rATION Al\D
Pou 1u:s: RtoESJGI\t"iG Mom R:-.1
GERMAKY
this greater exposure had an independent effect on institutional transfer? The question is very important. But the answer is not that the Bonn government after 1990 "cared" more than the Anglo-Americans after 1945, for indeed the success of institutional transfer was deemed crucial in both periocls. 1" Rather, the implication is that Bonn's interest in reproducing familiar and proven institutions helped drive the particular strategy of exact u·ansfer in the first place. For the Anglo-American occupiers, fewer concerns about unwanted "feedback effects" from German institutions made the functional equivalent strategv much less risky than it would have been for Bonn. to Exposure thus affected strategy, leading to a more ambitious form of transfer after 1990. This important diiTerence between the periods can thus be channeled through the investigation of the flexibility of transfer strategy. The analytical task at hand then becomes that of determining the consFqumces of the differences in strategy between the two periods. The question of adding an economic variable is more complicated, as it would not so much shape the choice of transfer strategies as either support or undercut them. One might imagine that the outcomes of transfer, especially in industrial relations, would be driven largely by exogenous developments in the economy: could transfer in postwar industrial relations have been eiTective not because of the character of cross-societal alliances established around institutional redesign. as I emphasize, but simply because the economv performed well? Two important objections undercut this view. First, some o( the policies promoting the economic boom around export-led growth were themselves linked directly to the Anglo-American strategy of functional C'quivalent institutional transfer. It is clear that the rapid growth of the 1950s was not an inevitable result of the global economic stmcture of the postwar period. 4 ' Rather, German export!> of capital goods to Europe and North America depended on policy choices made in Wa~hington, D.C., and in European capitals. Rebuilding European production and infrastructure and supplying Forclist America with capital goods meant that German production (re)gained an important position in world markcL~. The absence of noteworthy trade disputes in thic; period, despite remarkably high exports as a percentage of gross domcc;tic product (GDP) , suggests that the German econonn filled a complementary niche in the international diYision of labor. :~!!. II ;, <'a" to forget hm, mnUCCe'>" of the Anglo· \mt•r·ican occupatiorr ol po'>t-World \\'ar II Ct•rrnanv. Bcrond the hor rihlt- cost in civilian and rnilit.u y deaths, the llnitl'cl States had spt•nt mort• than 45% of its (;!)I> on the war eU"ort. and Hr itain an even gr etatn nl c;erman <.nil' I polrn anc! f"<;pecially ahnut
l'rt""· I 117i).
38
Embtdded Imitation
In this wa,·. the Anglo-Americarl strategy of institutional transfer was embc~ ded in a larger strategy of economic reconstruction, a strategy that tl1e Bra. }l and Americans, more than any others, actively shaped. d Second. reference to economic recovery strategies a Ione .IS too bl unt to exlain manv specific institutional changes of interest. For example, i~ ~s simply ~ot true that the economic miracle gave the Americans and Bnush ~v1de scope for eas\ institutional transfC.•t, even "ith regard to the econom\. From decartelization to antitrust polin. the occupation forces struggled constantly to fo rge alliances for grafting their instituti~nal design~ onto Germany. in •avs that appeared to them effective and sustamablc. But m 1956, at the hezght \\of 'thf economic miracle, the West Germans rejected tI1c US d ct I ·r . . -~an ate s ~~ t from quasi-public chambers of industry and commerce to pnvate o.nes With su·ictlY voluntary membership. In short, it seems much more plau!-.Jbk that positin: economic outcomes reinfo~~ed s?me ~arts of t~~ pr~\isional a_nd highlv conte,tcd institutional reeqUihbrauon wlthout .lcg1~tmaung the~n all, and surely without specifying what changes were "reqUired by the new mternational economy. Since reunification, these linkages between strategies of transfer and broader strategies of economic change also underscore the fact that imitation rareh stands in isolation from other crucial politics. In eastern Germany since 1990 the dominant means of promoting economic change has been privatization. Yet the strategy of exact transfer actuall} fit'> ~oo.rly ~,·ith effort~ to reintegrate the two German economies through pr~vauzauo~. It .has proved dilllcult to construct similar instrumenLs of econom1c regulauon Without simultaneously reproducing the structural patterns of the West German econom\. \\bence the tension? Becauo;e of existing economic capacity in the West, the eastet n Cerman economy generally represented an (inferior) competitor rather than a complement to West German business. The western German system of economic regulation has never been particularly good at promoting new markets, relying instead on ~uccessive improvem.ents i~, traditional markets such as automobiles, machme tools, and chem1cals. I hus, the onh real chances for a complementary role for m<~Or portions of the eastem . German economY would have been through their connections to markets m Fa!>.tcrn Europe. or ,ts sites of either low-wage or high-tech production of a kind not possible in western Germany. Currency union foreclosed the first possibility; other political choices attenuated the potential for widespread usc of the other two. Subsequently, every effort to make eastern Germany dill"crent has run into difficulty vtith regulatory institutions, which tend to ;ninimize regional and sectoral differences w;tbin Germanv. At this point the onh complementarities available arc those mside company boundaries. ao; when western German cmporations augment existing capacities \\;th acquisitions in eastern Germanv.
39
IMITATION AND Pou1Ic:s: R~. DESIGNI:>~G Mom R"i
Gt RMANY
In short, the tensions between institutional reconstruction and commercial competition powerfully shaped the d)namics of transfer in both the occupation and reunification periods. But since these forces are mediated through strategies of transfer already identified, thcv do not require wparalR treatment as factors explaining institutional transfer outcomes.
r:mwdded Imitation
authoritv was soon n ·stcd in state government insiders. Third. the ca.<.es cmet the construction of formal state and social institutions, although they largd' exclude commc:rcial institutions such as busine-,s practices. Finall). the "exact m111 sfer~ and "funnional equivalent transfct" heuristics allow me to C0\' ( ' 1 issues of breadth, depth, and intensity in addressing the question of how policymakers usc imitation.
CONCLUSION
The complexity of di~entangling foreign and indigenous influences mandates small numbers of cases, and a small number of cases demands limits to the number of variables. Dividing postv.y occupation and reunification into a series of auempts to constitute actors and to reform institutions along the lines of existing foreign models allows key factors to be held constant as the number of cases is increased. Even then, however, social phenomena as complex as imitation arc unlikely to be fully explained through just a few variables. For that reason I focus primarily on hypothesis generation, using different cases to explore dillcrcnt aspects of imitation, while providing a broad political argument with significant implications for theories of institutional change. The empirical chapters (3 to 6) develop several claims. The postwar industrial relations case reveals the irony that effective transfer may appear in retrospect as internallv generated; in this case, the fuller flowering of antecedent Weimar traditions obscures the hybrid rooLs of the post\\"ar plant. The post\\'af education case illustrates the limitations of using cultural factors only to explain resistance to institutional transfer. The Americans actually had many potential allies in their mission to reform German education, but opponents of common schools used German culture as a political tool to block American aims. The systematic transfer of industrial relations after reunification reveals unexpected institutional interactions-especially in wage bargaining-even when institutions were transferred in paclages. and it also helps demonsu·ate the importance of power relationships in holding together institutionalitcd forms of cooperation. The reunification education case, among other things, leads to a better under<>tanding of the processes whereby transferred institutions are legitimated, and it also helps reveal that civil society matters for reasons not captured only by its "density." In short, these four cases cover a significant number of the issues raised by the study of imitation and sketched earlier in this chapter. The question "why imitate?" revealed a focus on efficiency, justice, and autonomy as central motivations; each of these motivations plays a central role in one or more of the cases. The second issue concerned the authorin· to conduct imitation. In both industrial relations cases the formal authoritY lay with outsiders (the Allies and the We'>t Get man go\'ernment) ; in both education cases the formal
40
41
Ero11omic Cot'n 11ance
CHAPTER THREE
Economic Governance: Models of Industrial Relations after 1945 We are the sum of all the pt•oplc \\ ho\·c in\'aded
u~.
-DA\'ID EDGAR,
PeniHo\1
Until 1945 the de\'dopment of German economic institutions wa., dominated not by invading powers but by struggles among German workers, managers, owner~. and states. Could foreign models have an appreciable impact on structure~ as long established as tho~c of German industrial relations in the m_id-twenticth century? They could indccd. 1 Occupation forces staffed by Amcncan and British union officials used their own traditions of economic organization to check the ambitions of German unionist<> fot "economic democracy" and also to challenge the autocratic structures and practices of German employers. Some allied efforts merely reinforced "lessons of Weimar" ah cady \\idclv held bv German elites (sec the Dnttsdu Arbt'itifront and RichtungsgewPTk~chaftm cases below). Elsewhere, howe\er. crucial, effective Allied interventions did shape the resulting structures and practices (the choice for strong industrial unions and tlH' matter of\odetermination), though in some domains. strenuous Allied inter\cntions either had only modest resulh (antitnt!\! policy) or failed (cham bets of commerce). Yet even where intervention was effective, German industrial relations re-
I. And no1 ouh in iuclu,trial relation,_ Rccenl w01 ks in C1'1111an histoliral ~chola"hip cmpha,ltlllg AI heel dlorL> to lt•,hapc Gt'llll.tnv and Lt·lm..tn emul.ttion ofl 01 eign practin·, ,11 t' Axel '>< lulrlt and \rnold Sn\l>tld.. t•.tldt>m, :lmntkanismliiiK: I mum nnd ;1/ptmrtm 1111 Deullrltl11nd des 20. fallllwndnl\ (Stuuga11: ~tt'iner, I'lllfi); Ko~1radJ.tl ausch t-ul>rhlmul, 19-1>-li.Jdl IFranl.ftut· C..unpu,, JIJ
42
maincd obviously distinct from the British and U.S. versions. 2 The question is to what extent Anglo-American models of capitalism were used in pursuit of these outromes. EfTccti\e institutional transfer, b} definition, results in organitation~ that become pan of the fabric of society; hence, later eflorts to disentangk their somces arc bound to be difficult. The postwar reforms were built on a framewm k of Weimar institutions and upon German minority u·aditions that looked atu·actin- as elites considned the lessons of\\'eimar. The merits and shortcomings of Weimar institutions were, however, deeply conuo,erstal within German labot and between labot and capital. This disagreement .lllowed Allied institutional designs to ben>tne centtal in the choice of new an angements. Abstract institutional models blend spatial and temporal variation; they suggest ideal tvpes, and occupation officials used such abstract nwdt+• to 11arrO\\ the initiall\ wide range of organizational forms considered b} the Gnmans and to promote some initially unlikely winners.'· In establishing policies for their respective zones and, after 1947, for the combined C.S.-British zone, the Allies often used functional equivalence models. They did not insist that Germans adopt an entire foreign mdustrial relations ~>ystem or even copy exactly any one piece. But they constantly invoked the broad outlines of their own national practices in ways that bore directh on the choices of German actor\. For example, the Allies' pn·ferences for the fundamental form (decentralit.ed) and function (wllective bargaining) of trade uniom profoundly affected the outcomes of intra-German struggle,. Furtl1er, their experience with corporatist regulation dming wartime led both Allies to try to convince German employers of the benefits of accept in!{ labor as an equal but infonnal partner in broad tasks of economic regulation. This chapter launches the empirical exploration of effecti,•e transfer, which I link to social organization and political flexibility. Jt is clear that the Allies could build on a civil society trying to become more active in the wake of ;'-\;ui p<.T-.ecution <111d in the face of occupation restrictions. But if societ' was rc,<,urgent after twelve yc.~ars of dictatorship and war, it was also divided; henn.·. the Allies made clear choices about whirh German actors they would support. On the side of capital. the} initially sought to O\ercomc the distinction between employer and business associations by promoting the lattet while restricting the former. On the side of labor, they favored unions whik
. ~. In tiH' l!l:\0-;, l .!-. obsent·l' t·mpht'lr, "The l1ade Union Movenwnl ~~1~1 tht· Rt'dj,u ibutiou ol Power iu l'o,{war ( :l'llllall\." .b-61.
. :1. Till' ncllx·lt<·,
\\tl'\
no
;'Ct'IIHan
rnodd" in cltht'l practicc
nmrt'ptif,n .
4'3
01
IMI rATIO"' AND Pou nc'>: Rt.JH.S IG:-IIN<. 1\'lonFRN G•· R'-tA 'IIY
tightly controlling the "antifascist committees" that sprang up all over Germany in the spring of 1945 but generalh did not sunive the summer. Both the Americanl> and the British channeled indi,idual "antifa" members into parties or public admini•aration. They med the functional equivalence approach to walk a nebulous line, allowing the German~ to develop their own traditions in more democratic ways but forbidding developments the Allies deemed unacceptable.' The second key factor, ncxibility, affected means rather than ends. The Allies were often inlkxiblc when it came to designing institutional mds. For example, lJ.S. dogmatism on chamber of commerce reform became legendary among German employers, to whom the propol>ed private chambers with voluntan membership seemed both alien and dvsfunctional. Once the Allies had dra\\n certain lines, the~ were often willing to usc their authoritv to veto all German efforts to cross them-even the ellons of dcmocraticall} dected German governments.'• Yet the Allies augmented their functional equivalence techniques with a willingness to listen to the institutional visions of German actors when it came to implementing these functions. Thus, the mmns of pursuing certain institutional ends were regarded by both occupation forces as relatively open. Both Allies were also aware of the possibilitv that institutional functions could be circumvented at the implementation stage. and both monitored implementation carefulh. Yet for the occupation forces, 'igilance in oversight had always to be balanced by concern for supponing the efforts of German democrats, around whom at least part of the new Germany could be built. From the Allied perl>pectivc the dilemma was that the "good Germans" often wanted bad institutiom. And the occupation gove1 nmcnts rarely gave ground on the broad functional ends tl1ey desired. Sometimes (as in industrial unionism) they prevailed; in other cases (such as antitrust policy) they fought mostly in vain until well after the founding of the Federal Republic. Nevertheless, flexibility marked the Allies' attitude toward means if tllev could find German panners with whom they could agree on the pursuit of certain institutional ench. This issue matters more gene• allv because to the extent that polic)Tnal..ers' designs for institutional tramfer arc not self-implementing, they run the risl.. that social actors powerful enough to build upon can also steal the design /c)) their own purpose~. I treat the military governments (MGs) of the United States and Britain as prisms through which to view and understand occupation policie:.." Their 4. The Amt>rir.rm oltt•u mcd poll\ to gauge how much d~o~ngt· clwv could push the {;t·rm;m~ to pt. Sec Rit har rl Men iJC. Ormonal) Imposed: lVi. Omtfmlitm Potu; and the CPn11m1 Pub/u, 19-15 -19-19 (1\'c" 1-l.rwn: Y.rlt- llnrvcr>it~ Press. l\lY5). · 5. For exarnpk. \dwn the sC;IIe of He~sen trit>rl to \miuprt•mc· Hl'adquarters Allied f.xpt•ditionan Force (Sl-1 \!;F) ,rnd ih rq>lacemem, the .\Jiit·d (.onuul ,\utlull-it\ ( \C.-\l-rarc·h c·s· er ci,ed diren infltKnt t• mt•r u.ult• umon de' dopmt>nt 1\\ clw rime t ununl nflicer' of thc ot nr·
44
Hronomic Governance
fficer!) were the policy elites who attempted institutional transfer. Of course, :am MG decisions about the organization of industrial relations were tal..en ~n i~structions from their home governmenL'i, and U.S. policy toward German) was the obje eclipsed b} the "reconstructionist"viC\\, held b\ the majori~ of the State Department and articulated by George Kennan and e!)pecialh by Secretary of State james Byrnes. During the occupation me rhetoric of the Truman administration perceptibly shifted from discussion of the "German problem" as diagnosed by the first school to that of th<' "So,iet threat," emphasized by the second. In industrial relation~. actual policy choices did not always follow wartime planning, which focused mainly on dcmuilication and the support of traditional union leaders.'' The Manpower Divisions of the two MGs were left to react to ever changing shift<> of policy direction!> and unforeseen German initiati,·es. In this context the functional equivalent approach was more a tool used to respond to the developing facts than a prescriptive \ision. In both :\fanpower Di,isions many key officials were on loan from the American Federation of Labor (AFL), the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). the U.S. )Jational Labor Relations Board (NLRB), and the British Trades Union Congress (TUC) and their affiliates. This meant that pragmatic judgments about the acceptability of German ambitions were made by those who knew a great deal about their own labor traditions but relatively little about German ones. The Allies struggled to explain how their own industrial relations traditions might be useful in Germany. Both ~1Gs tried to mini mile the public relations problem of ~eeming to impose foreign institutions, aware as they were of Gcrp)ing armie, \H·r t• ·" tll.rllv Ill plat t• in the sumnwr of I q n. ~I L\l F had occn dissoherl. Bv virlllt• of thc rwt>d loa un,minun ;unong the four All it>>. tht• \( \ . though che de jurc gm t'rniiH'IIl of Ct-rmam, wa' eflt·n"d' hlo< keel for long stretchn of tinw; 'lT (.untlwr 1\fai, Drrallwrle Koutwll· rat inl>rullrh/mul (\lunidr: P. Oldcnbourg \'c:rlag, 19\1!"1). 7. A >ummenuitv Debate over Cerma11y. 1944-4\l" (Ph .D. eli''·· Mil , 1\l!lo)). 8. British di' rdn 'H'I t• kss tomequential; see Ian Turnt•r. "(:old-War Diplomaey: Bnti'>h Polrn toward' C:crmam \ Rolt• in ~ ur opt·. 1945- 4Y.- in Rno11•lt1u1im1 m Po!/· Hllr lJf'TJIW11_), ed. Tuaawr (Oxlorrl: Berg. I'IINl 9. \lrrh.td Fit htt·r , /!. \fll:lltll{\lllfiCht und (~"*"'"'Jtr~~ lutl.llhl'llklrwg 1111d Anu't'lldrmgdn l '\ . l"U'f'rit,drajl•fJUitttk w J>rul\• 1./mu/, 19-1-1--18 ( Opl.ukn. ( ·t·rm.rm: \\'e,tdcubcher \'erl
45
-l IMITA"I 101':
A~D PoLITIC~:
Rt:DF.SJGNINC MoDI.I{N
Economic Governance
c~ RMANY
man fears flowing from the experience with the Versailles Treaty. Instead, with "Americanitation" generally used by Germans as a pejorative, the occupation forces usually justified what [ am calling institutional transfer with reference to ~upposedly universalistic processes such as economic moderni;ation or democrati;ation. w General Lucius Clay. the acting L.S. military governor of German). was particularlv cautiou<> about pushing American practices on the Germans, and he often said that he wa<; unwilling to force German<. to do things not yet achieved in the Cnited State<;. But thi'> principle could be used not just to tame what Clay saw as hi'> own overeager MG personnel but abo to disallow popular German initiatives 'uch a'> codetermination because, as he said, "American unions seem to survive ven well without it." 1 ~ In most domains, including indusu;al relations. the Americans clearly did prefer to see the Germans reform themselves; the British Military Government, headed by General Brian Robertson, shared this basic orientation. Only where reform was not happening did they intervene.
Path Dependencv (Traditional Institutions)
Learning a~ Cause of Chang(• (Lessons of Weimar) Postwar Institutional Outcomes .\Hied PoliC1 Influence' (Transfer and t\'ontransfcr)
Intcmational Factors (Restabilization) FiguYP 1. Origins of pos1war inslillltions
I NSTITUTIONAL ThANSH:R IN POLITICAL CONTEXT
If transfer was not a centrally steered grand design, how did it work? I argued in Chapter 2 that the complications of political context make institutional imitation hard to conceptualize. In explaining Germany\ post-World Wa1 II institutional outcomes, most analyst<; rely on some combination of the four broad categories of causal forces outlined in Figure I. The first two box('S refer to factors essentially internal to Germanv: the range of traditional int(·n·sts and the structures created over time, combined with the various lessons learned bv those who had lived through the dissolution of Weimar and the di.,illtl'iion of the Third Reich. The second two boxc'> rd"ct to factors basicallv ('Xtemal to Germany: specific Allied policies tO\\'ard the conquered <;tate and the influence of postwar stabilintion, but also mmc chnamic factors such as growing trade openness, monetar} stabili;ation, Cold War tension!>, and rearmament. These "forces" are ideal types, and ~ophisticated analvsts have always drawn on more than one. Even by combining only internal ot onl} external factors, one can easily construct an ac(ount-coherent if incomplete-either of continuity or of change. Of course, analysts have assigned widely different weights to the categories, and Figure I merely recog-
nizes the heuristic utility of each factor in all comprehensive discussions of postwar institutional outcomes. The Allied occupation case enlightens because each of the four categories i mplies a diiTerent story about institutional transfer. Rather than focusing dir cctlv on the process of transfer, scholars have usually made one of three other claims about how to charactcri£c institutional change. All arc based on important insights, but as the postwa• German case reveals, oversimplifyi ng transfer often leads scholars to t
I 0. l ..'i. olli<'ial' oltt•n a"unrect that the ,\merican model had uuin·"al applirahilit1 il' only uhu j,Jit iult't nh rould be o1ercome. II. Ou Cl•11 \ ,1ppmad1. ,e~ Rarbara Fait, l>l'lnllkmlllritl' hm111?llll~ t/11/n drm .\lrtlll'tilmnurr: \mrnlan/1\tlu 1\mrlmllt uml \hfa\\utiggPhii11K m Hnw"Yn I 946 ( Dlt"cldor I Dt mtt", I 'I'IH). 1~ - Quott·d in ( ~at oh 11 Fi,eubn~. "The Limil' ol DcnHtnat ,. t 'i Polu 1 ,rn- 19: in Amntra a tid llu ShnfJingof (;n11utti \m tl'l\. I 111~ - 55, t•d \Ia hac·I Ft nt.~lh ((hfoul. lkr~-:. l!~l:H , 77.
13. Carl F1 il'drich, "'Thl' l.c·gi!C it''> of Jh<" Oc nqMtion in (;t'nnanv," PuiJ/ir Policy 17 ( 1968): 7. I I. Indeed. Friedrich It"'> II it" hi' '"l" ol Jht· lt-gacie' '" ~umt·nt to the f~dcialism case and. 10 a cert<~in <'Xlent. judicial 1 <'vll'\\. 15. Fo1 exam pic, C<·rmotn' h.td h.rcl di'·''" ou' t·xpc' IIenn'' with hoth independ~nt and ,J,HCdominat~ct cemral b.rnk,, hnl . \ttH"I ic ,, \ .tpp.rn·nt '"r
JMI U<
47
46 l.
IMITATION AND POliTics: Rri>f.SJC.NII\G
:\tom.RI': Cf.RMANY
with proposab for institutional redesign. The analytic challenge is to connect these intclleuual legacies with explanations of their public 01 private power bases, legal status, and popular legitimacy. fnstitutional transfer is often a meam. for turning minority traditions into majority ones-a crucial change frequently mis~ed by the ~legacies" approach. Thus, in many cases it makes sense to sec these antecedents as prerequisites that make eiTective transfer possible rather than as readv-made solutions that obviate any need fm imitating foreign practices. A variant of the indigenous tradition argument is one that emphasizes ~lea1 ning." If the original claim is that the new was not new at all, the variant sugge~ts that the old was made to work better. By this account, outcomes appearing to result from institutional transfer actually spring from purely German efforts to reform traditional institutions. 1" Natism was a perversion of German tradition or a monstrous aberration from it which, by the end of the war, had lost its hold on the Germans. Discredited by its own failure, Nati institutional change was reversed by the Germans thcm'>elves (or would have been, had not naive democratitation programs been forced upon them), and the economv flourished once it was freed from Allied controls. What can we make of this line of argument? 7 Certainly, "indigenous" reform is an apt description of some policy areas of the occupation, including school reform. There seems little doubt that Weimar elites from most policy areas engaged in both soul searching and lesson drawing. Yet the problems of diversity and voluntarism make indigenous learning a most incomplete explanation for postwar institutional change. For one thing, different German actors drew different lessons from the Weimar and :-.iazi experiences, and these conflicting visions had to be adjudicated, justified, and implemented. Some lessons had to be forgotten: in the case of trade unions, where there were a number of importam in1>titutional continuities from Weimar, one task of this chapter is to show that the Allies prevented some discontinuities (based on "learning") which labor leaders expected to achieve. Moreover, since there was no German government for much of the occupation period, the Allies set themselves the task of integrating the lessons learned by diverse groups of German elites into a larger set of domestic and foreign policv priorities. I argue that functional equivalent tramfer allowed the Allies to push their own designs, promote some German rcforn1 ideals over others, and link individual reforms to broader policies in wavs that '\:olunta1 istic" learning could not. The second of the three claims focuses on the apparent political obstacles to im,titutional transfer. Some, acknowledging that u ansfer wa' tried, argue
Hi. ,\leading ,.,amplt•ltnmth<' "' ('Tmllll\: Rdrrot to \ 'irton (lktJOit: \\,t\lll' Stau·lrme!'>it\ P~t·"· 19i7) 17. I<> ht' L1ir. 1 n<"ar < h in10 the o< nrpation ""'long hamp<"n'rl h1 th<' 1<1< k nf actl'" to \fG docunwnt\, and I hi' conlr ihutt•1 (;t'rman .H tors.
48
Econonuc Gotlf'l na11ce
that it \\ to be little doubt that growth helped legitimate contested institutional changes. As Mary FulbrooJ... sardonically puts it, the number of Germans who supported democratic views in opinion polls in the 1950s and 1960s "grew in close co1 relation with the increase in the average weights of ever more satiated Gcnnans." 11 But the intense debates about institutional de1>ign took place long beforP that process occurred. Participants certainly acted as if domestic institutions mattered, and diiTercnces in cross-national economic performance under the same international conditions give some indirect evidenn· that they did. And it is simply not the case that any institution could have been transferred to German} because of the "economic miracle." Local government reforms were changed after the British left; the determined American effort to make chambers of commerce into strictly private bodies was also 1eversed. Thus. legitimation of transfened institutions is at least partly separate from more genNal economic conditions (see Chapter 6). More bmadly, the fact that international factors clearly mattered hardly imphcs that domestic institutions did not. I dcn·lop an empirically differentiated picture of the actual process of institutionaltransfer in post-World War II occupied Germany; doing so rescues from all these argumcnh J...ey insights that can ultimateh help explain the variation in transfer outcomes. The process resulted in some true fiascoes but also in some adaptive and legitimate institutions different in impo1 tant ways from tht~ll \\'eimar antecedents and from British and American inriuences. IS. hicciJJdr. -l,·..:.tu<''.- 11\. 19. Eht·Jh,url 'ithmirlt. Du \l·!lu11dnt•• ,\ruord!lliiiJ:. /9-15-ICJ52 (\!.mulwim. (,nman~. Fu· ropaisclw \,., bgs-,\nstalt, 1970). 20. 1his dehatl' "·" sparl-.1'<1 ll\ Weml'l \ht'l\haust•r, \\'i>t"lwft in ~\htdt>lllschlmul. /945- /8: 1lrlwnt m dPT amnrlwmulrm rmd fnrtl\rhnr /Jm• 11 (Stuttgart: ()I'Utscht· \ nl.1gs- \ust.Jit. 197;,). 21. St•t• ~Ia• l FulhJOol.., Thrhm/anall/1/m\'ojCt•lfntiiiV, /918 - 1990 (Nt·w )ork: Fonl,lll.t. IH!l:l).
-19
r:conomir Gotii'IIIQIICI'
IMITATION AND PoLITICS: R~<.r>ESH.\IING Moi>F.RN Gt:R\fANY
Allied Policy lnfluenc<'s 1 - - - - -1Th10ugh Institutional Transfer AttemptS L-------------~
Through Mechanisms other th
Figurr 2. Transfer a~ a ~ub,<•t ofAIIiNI influence
My focus on disagreements among and between Allied and German actors on·t institution building shows that the Allies' understanding of capitalism and democracy was linked in fundamental ways to their own institutions. Through a combination of power and persuasion they were sometimes able to eiTect remarkable changes in the goals of German actors and in the form and function of "traditional" German institutions. In this process the ability to recruit German actor~ who would put their eiTorts and their credibility behind Allied designs was crucial. The occupation case is further illuminating because it illustrates how institutional conflict and compromi~e led to social organizations and to institutions that had the capacity for dumge over time. Because the-. were forged in periods of conflict. these actors and institutions emerged as adaptive. The claim that U.S. and British occupation forces sometimes relied explicitly on their own models of industrial relations does not mean that all the occupation forces' actions were informed by these models. Clearly, they were not. As Figure 2 suggest!>, institutional transfer \\as only one tool. although it was an important one, since the military governments could use it to operationalize su·ategi<·s such as d<:mocratit.ation. M, task, therefore, is to situate tran~fer strategies in the context of the lessons of Weimar, traditional structures and interests, and changed international conditions after 1945. To do so, I first describe the reconstruction of institutions representing the interests of labm in the Am<.·rican and British occupied zones.22 I follow in detail
'.!'.!. Tlw h ench h.HI a much le" enclurin~o: mlluem ,. on in,titmional n·form\. Their tone'"" 'malkr ancl )(-,., economicalh rmpm t.ull than c·ithc·r the Briii'h or .\mnican tone. ancl therr rc:· ftl\a l to a(Ct'JH the Pol\dam ,\gr t•cmc-nt's intention to 11 t·at (;c-r11ranv a' an C:(onomic "hole meant that the1 wc.-rc· often .rh...-nt from cJi,cu"ion ol hi7on.tl or all ( .ennan rn\titullons.
50
(1) tlw dcbaw about the degree of centralization and politicization allowed German labor, and (2) the .scope and legal status of codetennination. Thereaftt·r I anahn· the reconstruction of business organizations during this period. e'pcciall) with regard to Allied eiTorts to promote collective bargaining, to secm<.' "freedom of vocation," and to limit cartels.
L\BOR
ORGA:-Itt.ATtor-.s: \\'HtCH Lt:ssor-.s, \\'mcH TRAOTTtor-;s?
In both formulating and implementing labor policies. the Allies relied heavily on their understanding of the role of nnions in tlwir own societies. Spccificalh. the British and the Americans urged German unionists to build labor org-ani~:ations that would he functional equivalents of those of each zone's o<-cup\ing power. 2:1 Two kev organizational outcomes underpin this claim. First, although the allies were committed to rebuilding unions as a pillar of their democratization efforts, they had a particular type of union in mmd: tlwy sought to restri<-t unions to the pursuit of wages, benefits. and working condi tions and to constrain th<.'ir pursuit of a political program of ~t•conomic democran." Most German union leaders chafed at these restrictions. Some admired British unionism, but few knew much about American unions.•md the Allies' persistent bias toward collective bargaining appeared to them a com piracy against union prerogatives on a host of other i~sues. Second. Get man unionists were determined to achieve a more authoritative institutional position in the conduct of the economy after World War II, a position thn often called "social codetermination." German labor envisioned it a.' a stt·p toward self-determination at all levels of the economy. capped h\ either socialization or corporatist economic management (depending on the faction m\'oln·d). Under Allied influence, however. codetcrmination ultimately became an end in and of iL~elf at the firm lew!. From the perspective of virtually all Ccrman labor leaders, both kinds of restrictions threatened their hopes for more economic democraq·. 2 ~ To elements anoss the spectrum ofGennan labor the moment had appeared ripe fot a major transformation of labor's roles in German societ). Such a ll ansformation would have had far-re
1915 (Canohrtclgt•: ( >kanclet Prt·"· I \li6).
51
IMI fAfiON AND
Pou ncs:
R.t:o.t:SIGNI.N<.; Mom.R!'. G•·.RMANY
controlled union publishing possibilities, influenced the composition of union l<'adcrship bodies, and suppressed the antifa~cist commitl<.'<'S. Y<'t the Allies' usc of their own models of industrial organi;ation led neither to the stereot~pical apolitical American "business union" orientation nor to British c• aft union structures. Rather, the clash of Allied policies about functional ends with German unionists' ambitions for increased authorit:v led to novel arrangcmcnts.1 '• In short, the Allies drew upon thei• functional models, in conjunction \...'ith certain institutional legacies of Weimar. to d<'fcat other Weimar legacies and lessons learned in wartime exile. Th<' broader aims of occupation officials help explain thci• usc of institutional transfer. They saw unions as potential allies in the democrati;ation of Gc• many, and the issue was how to maximize this potential. They went about it cautiously. On August 6, 1945, General Dwight D. Eisenhower proclaimed to the German people, "The full freedom to form trade unions and to <'ngage in democratic political activities will be extended rapidly in those areas in which you show a readiness for the healthy exercise of these privileges. Your own actions will determine the time for removing remaining restrictions." 21; What Allied fears lurked behind these restrictions? Communism has been emphasized most, yet it is clearly misleading to see the Allied trade union policy as a simple reflection of anti-Communism. 27 Much more was at stake, including a desire for order and a particular view about democrati;ation. Both "order" and "democratization" were vague enough to direct against Communists, but many of the organizational restrictions targeted fascists and also traditions of authoritarianism inside German trade unions. 2M Social order is a fundamental concern for any occupation force, especiall} one as inexperienced in "ci"'il affairs" as was the U.S. Army.2'' The widel>pread attitude among
~~'- l'.u.rdoxic.tlh, the inrenention of the occupation l01n'' .ruu.rlh d~t·\\ untons clo;er in tlwit oq~.lllit.llUlll.ll feature' to tho<>e of the \\'~:imar pt•liod th.lll \\ould h.l\t' h<.•t•n true \\ithout tht• ,\Jiie,, Juhanne' Kolb, .\letallf!?u>erlt!chtiftm 111 dn \'nrhJatr/{\Utl (( olognt•: Bund-\'erlag. J!ll{:l) 12:1. 2ti Qut>tt·d in ~amuel !.iss memo. n.d. (prohahh '\on·mbt·t l~ll.l), (.t'Ot).tt' Meany \r· t lm n, Um. 12. lolckr 04: I, 2. Papers of the CJO lnternation.ll .VI.Ii" D11 i'lon, R<: I K-002. Silver ~PI Ill!{.
\lei
'27. fht• kadiug revi,ioni>t argument, which he.wily empha\llt'' Alht·d .mti Comnumism, " Stlunult./JJr \nlundntr.\'nwrdmmg, esp. 34-36. IOfi-l :t . '2K. Sie~-tf' ied Mi<'IJ..e, "Der \\'iederaufbau der Ge\\erkM·haltt·ll." illl'olttilthr Hmhnlltl'Jlnng Ill .Vtuhk• II'J.,'Vimlfrhlrmd, 19·15 -53, Gr1rhirhw und Grsrllsrh(Jf/, t:d. llci111 ich Wiuklt•t (( ,..-,uingen: Van· dt•uhoed. & Rupn•rht, 1979), 81-83. See abo ~chmidt. D~t \l•tl/1/ulntr .Vmmdmmg, :16. Dani~·l Rogt·r,, Po/ititl n(tn Jlitlrr: ThP \\htem Allie:. and the Gemum l'!l~ty Sy1tnn (New Yot k: :-..c•w York Um· lt'tsitv P~t·"· 1995). aho emphasites concerns about public ordt·t in tht• litcnsing of political p.utit•s. '2!1. 1 ht• mIll\ had stntggled mightilv with issue; of publil otdt•t iu its ort upation ol Italy and w,1, dt•tt'tlllitwclnot to repeat such mi\takes iu Germam. j( -~ I 067. tht' t·,u h lound
52
liconomic Grmernanre
Germans that National Socialism had bc<'n a good idea badly carried out was onlv one indication of a real danger of resurgent fascism or civil unrest.'~'' Occupation polic~. thcrefme, demanded that German labor organiLations pro\·e their reliability. To gauge the Allied impact, one first needs some sense of German labor's historical trajcctorv from Weimar through the Nazi periodY Weimar's earl} indu\trial relations pillars were four: the 1918 Stinnes-Legien Agreement on collective bargaining, the 1918 legislation on shop committees, the 1918 legislation on collecti\·e bargaining agreement'> and their mediation by the state, and the 1920 agreement on works coundls.' 2 Collective bargaining made a breakthrough in Germany only aft<'r World War I as heavy industries negotiated a variety of issues with trad<' unionists during the demobilization period. I'\ In the wake of the socialist revolution the Stinnes-Legien Agreement recogniLed trade unions as the ollicial representatives of the workers, legitimated collective bargaining in all branches, called for factory committees in firms with more than fifty employees, and established the eight-hour workday. These factory committees were the progenitors of works councils, which represent workers' interests inside firms but are not formally a part of the trade union. In December 1918 further legislation laid the foundation for collective bargaining agreements, the possibility of their extension by the state to firms outside the negotiations, and the role of the state in mediating conflicts over wages. This last decision was fateful, for the state assumed a responsibilil.)- that overwhelmed it-; capacities in the late Weimar period: the so-called mandated-wage (Zwang~tanf) became a symbol of the state's inabilit) to help mediate the core interest conflict'> in society. As the trade unions weakened, they came to rely increasing!\ on this stat<' instrument; conversely, as the emplo\·ers needed the unions less and less. the} launched offensives against the Zwangstarif and indeed agamst tlw \\'cimar Republic, most notably in the Ruhr iron strikes of 1928. 11 fhus, private '\vage autonom}." because it
30. lu '"'"'''of latt' l!llr>. 15'~ ol tnpondt·nts ,\gtcerl that ~ational Sociali~m "\1<1\ a good idt>a badh c.urit·d out": II', ,,tid ll " ' " .1 h.tcl iclt•a. :\lot em et, dm;ng the next four 'ear' I he num· OCt te,ponthng "good idt',l hadh t .u t it•cl mil" 11111 .tbout :l'l per \ear (!\lerritl, Dnnorml) lmpcwcl, 9fi-97). :11. fhe litetatut<' ht•tt' i' '·"".\good 'tatting point is the series edited b1 Gerhard Riut·r (Clllot'ntl\ I~ vols.), (rl.•,rhirhli•rln .1tbntn 111ul tin Aril<'lll'liii'll'l'ff'IIIJ.,'itll)ntflrhlmrrl {ril dnn hnd1•df\ 18.]11i11hwulnt\ (Honn:J 11. \\', Dit'tt, 1\IK·I ). 32. Fot a Munntan of tht•st• dilktt'llt Wtttllllt''• ~
53
I\IITATIO~ AND P01 1 ncs: R~ DESIGJ\J'G ~tom Rl\ GJ,.RMANY
was incomplete, actually burdened the state heavily.~~'· The changing balance of power between capital and labor made the institutional framework established ncar the beginning of Weimar dangerously anachronistic by its end. As Walther Mi"•ller-Jentsch pointedly noted. "The wstem of autonomous collective bargaining was already dead by the time the ~azi~ officially suspended it. "~h In part because of disappointment with the way works councils were neutrali,cd by German employers, labor intellectuals sought other ways to democratil'e capitalism. The notion of Wirtschaflsdnnokratif', or economic democracy, clearly meant different things to different parts of the labor movement. Common to all conceptions, however, was that formal political democracy had to be augmented with democratic control of the economyY The program. proposed b' the Social Democratic Party (SPD) upon its return to power in 1928. has been variously seen as an elaboration of earlier concepts of a corporatist Reich Ecomomic Council, or of the proposals of the union congresses in Breslau ( 1925) and Hamburg ( 1928), or as an SPD reaction against the earlier Independent and Communist Party proposals for council democracy, or as a tactic to justify union participation in the modest institutional reforms of \'\'e imar."~>~ \\'hatcver the motives, however, the central proposition (which went back to Rudolf Hilfcrding) was that capitalism had changed its character from individual to VTganiud capitalism. The result was the possibilit\ of a parliamentary rather than re,·olutionary transition toward a socialism in which trade unions, alongside the SPD, would play a crucial role in the centralized management of the economv.:1n Advocates of economic democracy called for a multifaceted workers' infiltration of organized capitalism for the purpose of removing economic decisions from the strictly "private sphere." The Weimar SPD did strengthen um mployment insurance,' et it could advance only very partial legislation toward fulfilling the broader agenda of Wirtsrhaftsdmzokratif. This disappoinU11ent combined with earlier disappoint-
"!)"'
:~5. II an> Momrmen. Dilernrna der lar ifpolilik: Dit' Politi,inung dt·r industr idlt-n ArbetL\IX·tichungt·n." in Gndmhle a/:, .\lt~llchlu-11 t·d K.."U \tt·n Rudolph ,tnc! Chti,tl \\'id.t•r t (Fs<en: Kl.utn.t . 1995). :!IX. :~(i, ,\lftllet-jt·llt\Ch, " 1 .(•tnpro7t'~M·," :\2 1, :n. For the conception aud real it~ of economic demm 1 an in tlw late Wt·irnat Republic, ~ee Hemrr< h Wink It-t, D" \rlmu dn .\mmalttal. . \rl• tin- umi Jlrf~r~tn-f>n••·l."wg i11 tlrr \\nmnr Rrp~tbhlc. /9241111 1930. 2<1 t•c!. (Bonn. J. 11. \\' Dwv, 19XX), t'Sp. (i0h-2R :lH. See Sciklt. "Oit• dt•utsche Ct'wt'rkschaft,hewt'gung," li\0 \ll: Willi.tllt Patch. Chrillian Tmtir ( 11wm mlhP ~\Pimar l?rp~tblir. JIJJ8-/931 ('\ew flall'll: Yale t lni1enit\ Pn•s,. 19W•). 1464i: 1),11id Abr.th.un. "Economic Ot'lllllcr.t" ,,, .1 Labot \ttt·mauw to the (,tm•th Su.tU'Ifl in \\'erm.ll Gern~<~m." in flu l'oltltcal 1-.wnmny of Hnt Gennall\. t'd. Andrei \la1l.miu. (Nn~ York: P1 at'j.(t'l, 1982). :~9 Thus. "ith 1he ri'l· of tht' no11omic dt•mocran iclt-al. the SI'D dollnpl.llec! calh lor socialit.lllou and 111neased II\ opp<>\IUon to >l.llt 1t'gulatiou of rr\1\h Fritz '\.tphtali, \\lrtlrlwftsdemokwltl' (Berlin: \ 'e rlag,· Ct•<;ell'lh.tlt des AJ)(:B. 1921\) .
54
tronomir (;ovf'Tnana
ments on works councih. and on the ability of state arbitration to promote desit.thlc and sustainable colknive bargaining outcomes.~0 On top of the Weimar setbacks came German labor's bitter expcrienn· in the Nazi period: forced union dissolution into the Dcut~che Arbeitsfront ( OAf'), imprisonment of labor leaders, the transformation of works councils into ~~trmifn sriilf'. the dismantling of unemployment insurance, the significant exten~ion of wot king hours in a wartime economv. 11 All these grievances left deep impresswns on German laborY Whatever their internal divisions, most wings of the postwar labor movement shared a strong sense tl1at the time for an institutional new beginning had arrived. That new beginning would require not onl) the elaboration of old concepts under new political conditions but also the ckvelopment of ambitions never before reali1cd. To this end, a wide varien of concepts of labor participation became important in the wartime thinking of German trade unionists.H These concepts, though often vague, involved an insistence that labor have legitimate institutional prerogatives at the highest levels of society ~ well as the nuts-and-bolts level of economic management. &building Uniom: The Porus on Collective Bargaining
In looking at questions of union structure and function, one must recall the diflicult situation of German labor in 1945. 11 The immediate material conn_' Ins that dominated the day-to-clay activities of the German population also shaped the tasks of union building. since the unions had to develop organil'attons that could speak to at least ~ome of the immediate problems. The destruction of German cities, combined with the huge flows of refugees from eastern territories. had resul~ecl in a serious housing shortage. In cities such as Hamburg, Bremen, Dortmund, and Cologne some 50 to 70% of apartments had been destroyed. In the American and British zones there were about 2:~% fewer dwellings in 1945 than in 1939, although within two wars
10. lktlt·\ P<•ul.t·r t. DtP 1\i·wwrn Uttmhlik: 1\lllrlljllltlt tin kla. Tht·\e attempt\ to "pll'\ent org;mitational < hneiclt·l ( llll"l'm I Joktnlrreuz:, \ll>ntn wul \1 f,..ttrrl~t"'l."lll~ 19H '"' /939 (l~on11: I· I I.\\, Diett. 1!1!19). 12: \II lonnulauon doe> not de~\ thar ""ne \\orl.ns ll<'nt'liled from Nazi polirit·,: nw point ht"re_" '1111ph tlt.u ·" 1he 11,11 t'tH!ed. tlw 'ignihc ''"' disat h.then nat h I 'l !:)>" (,. 11 -rl!irllltjtlulu .\lomtlllujtr 5 ( I !l'l~r); :10:). 1-1. I hi\ !>aragr.tph and tiH" nn.l dt,l\1 on Sit'ghrl'cl ,\lit'IJ..t'\ inuoduuion to 01!!111111a/mHtltrr l~tflxw dn (,rll'f'ritltltttflm, /915-/9-19.t·d. \fiell.e (Colognt·: Uund-Vetlag. 198i). :!il-:12.
55
Economic Governance
IMITATION AND POLITICS: REDESIGNING MODERN GERMANY
Table 3. Trade union membership development in the British zone, 1946
Table 2. Trade union membership development in the U.S. zone, 1945-48
Bavaria Dec. 1945 Dec. 1946 Dec. 1947 Sept. 1948 Density.June 1948
Hessen
95,000
40,000
359,000 647,214 773,949
300,000 371,126 409,586 36.0%
32.5%
WiinembergBaden
Bremen
Total
122,000 291,000 399,629 443,118
6,000 63,000 88,844 103,544
41.0%
50.1%
263,000 1,013,000 1,506,813 1,730,197 37.0%
Souru: Matthew Kelly, "The Reconstruction of the German Trade Union Movement." Reprinted v.ith permission fromPolitiwlScience Qyartn"ly, vol. 64, no. I (1949), pp. 40-41.
the population of the two zones had increased by about 20% as a result of immigration that substantially exceeded war deaths. Officially, food consumption stood at 1,550 calories per day, but many Germans were eating much less as General Clay struggled with Washington for funds to feed a hungry population. If destruction drove some parts of a union agenda, low production threatened other parts. Production had been halted in many factories, and in the spring of 1945 it stood at some 12% of 19361evels in the U.S. zone and 15% in the British zone. These figures rose to around 30% in the first quarter of 1946, and to 50% and 37%, respectively, by the end of that year.15 The combination of low production and the loss of many blue-collar males in the war confronted the unions with a difficult membership situation, one compounded by the entry of refugees into local labor markets. Refugees posed new organizing challenges for the unions and also reduced union bargaining power by slackening labor markets. Moreover, union organization was hampered by the absence of higher levels of German political authority, as the Allies did not allow the unions to grow at a rate faster than the state. With France utterly committed to decentralized state structures, this limitation on union organization was very significant. In addition, local MG authorities in Germany often placed bureaucratic obstacles in the way of trade unionists, making application processes exercises in strict formality. Nevertheless, as Tables 2 and 3 show, membership grew rapidly in the newly constituted unions. By September 1948 membership in the U.S. zone was 1,730,197, representing a union density among all salaried workers of 37% and among all "employable" persons registered at labor offices of 24%. The corresponding figures for the British zone were 2,547,243 members, or 27.1% of the employable population:16 45. Only ncar the end of military occupation did it reach 1936levels. and real wages remained below 1936levels until the mid-l950s. 46. In the Smiet zone the numbers were 3.67!;,900 (49.7%); iu the French, 402,400 (16%). In each case, figure> exclude membership in Berliu. Mauhew Kelly, "The Reconstruction of the German Trade Union Movement," Political Scima Quarterly 61 (1949): 40-41.
56
Hamburg
Hanover
North Rhine
Westfalen
SchleswigHolstein
Total 140,765
Jan. 1946 Aprili!H6
103,171
37,593
138,847
183,332
301,366
25,486
16,857
655,888
June 1946
141,996
198,288
311,265
84,647
24,007
760,203
Source: ~fonthly report of the Control Commission for Germany (British Element), No. I, June 1946, in Joseph Keenan Papers, lot 75, hox 2, folder 8, Catholic University of America, Washington, D.C.
Manpower officials in both MGs watched with satisfaction as union membership levels grew. Yet with this growth came questions about what kind of union movement was being built. Even before organizational density climbed, wartime concerns about the vulnerability of German unions to Communist or fascist influences mingled with postwar concerns that the MG keep its monopoly on political authority in Germany, as mandated in JCS 1067. Consequently, the Allies imposed tight resu·ictions on trade unions, restrictions whose effect was to channel union activity in certain directions while foreclosing other possibilities. To this point, 1 have suggested that the concept of Allied institutional transfer can offer a fuller account of processes of institutional change than can overreliance on the concept of learning on the part of German elites. My claim has been that institutional transfer, rather than being a story about the "power of ideas" (again, American-style labor relations were mysterious to most German unionists of the time), was one of "ideas backed by power." And yet the unlimited formal authority of the MGs had very real practical limits, obliging them to cultivate de facto partnerships with certain German leaders and organizations. The transfer concept privileges state policy elites, for it is their efforts to codify imitation through law that leads to a case of attempted institutional transfer. Of course, if the lessons of Weimar learned by German leaders informed their actions and their ambitions, one might wonder how to separate the learning of German leaders from the teachings of the Allies. My answer is that the utility of the institutional transfer concept grows as the gulf widens between state (here, MG) and societal (here, German labor leadership) preferences. I begin where that gulf is its narrowest. Two organizational options for labor-the return to separate unions for different political affiliations (like the Weimar Richtungsgewerkschaften) and the continuation of the DAF structure of the Nazis-were rejected by both the Allies and the majority of German unionists. From the American perspective the Weimar pattern of separate unions for separate political movements was disconcerting. Joseph Keenan, longtime secretary of the Chicago AFL and General Clay's deputy for labor affairs in tl1e Organization of Military Government, U.S. Zone (OMGUS),
57
IMII'A nox AKD Pouiic~: Run.si(.~'nN<. Mou~.RN GER.\tA "~'
later recalled. MThen· were four uniom.: 'ocial democrats, Chri~tian democrats. . . . the Einhrit [unitary] uniom, and then there were the communists.... I went to Clay and said, 'Well, General, this is a mix up, and I would like to reorganize these unions along the lin<·s in the United States. They have these lour different political unions which is not just right.' \\'ell, he [Clay] said, go ahead." 17 The ~ocial engineering implied b} Ket:n.m was simplv nc,·ei needed, howe,er. German labor leaders wanted one unified union mo,ement to avoid the fragmentation that had made labor's resistance to fascism so ineffective during the Weimar Republic Thus, whereas in the Weimar period the social democratic unions had linkages with the SPD, the Christian union federation with the Catholic Center and other bourgeois partjes, and the HirschDunker unions with the German Democratic Party, \'irtuall) all unionist~ agreed in 1945 that strict party affiliation<. should be ended. This consensus against party affiliation did not require Anglo-American models (indeed, Tl'C-Labour Party connections in Britain were and are tighter than any such links in post- World War II Germany). At most, it is possible that American ideals helped strengthen the German r<:jection of the RiclttunK-w'werkschaften and sent a discouraging message to those who pondered reviving them. 18 The decision against reforming the DAF was somewhat more controversial, so the institutional transfer concept is more useful here. Although decisiveh rejected by the Allies, OAF features still functioned for a time as,, kind of conceptual building block for many of the German union leaders who were rebuilding regional union~> in the early month!> after the war.''' FritJ. Tarnow was probably the strongest supporter of the conversion of the DAF into a trade union organizaLion, having begun the discussion as early as 19:~9 in Sweden. But this and his latet variant<; of the plan were generally oppo'>ed bv the majoritY of the other exile leaders. The anti-Communist Tarnm' saw in the DAF a mechanism for pre\enting a Communist takeover of the union movement by capturing its organitational high ground for social democrats .'>~' Several otlwr union leaders, including Hans Bome of its organi.rational features interesting. These
17 h.t·t>run intenre\' \\ith (,c·or~t· Hrennni. JmqJh h.tTll.lll Paper,, lot 7:>.1x" L lolder2, 910. ( ,lt hohc L~nin:r sit\ of ,\me-r 11 .1. \\'hington . D.< IH. Sinn: noncontrmc• 'it·s lt•,l\ <'thin papt'lll iii b. nid<'JKt" on this poirtt ;, indin·c1. Cenainl\, an Li Communist leackr'> sut h "'the AFL\ lr 'ing 1\r owr1 worried well into the occupation that po· litrt.tl di\ide~ might rt'il)lJll'tT 13JOwn toJa' l.mt•,torll', ,\pril7, 1917, in)•" l.oH·stone Papers, \kiim \n·hi'"'· box II. loldt·r 7 In the f'rt;'nrh-o« up•nl '>.ta• ~ome union' liuJ..t·d to parties 111rlf ,.,t.thl"lwd. and tod,l\ till' '>.1.11 '' ,1 '>lronghold of ( lu "llm iu th< I RC •. l!l hchtcr (&,at:rtiiJ..."""""t· 76-~0) ~u~ge't' th.u '>fl \EF might ha\1' .u ted a reformed [) U 'll ucuu t' until tlw \loJ~t~uth ,llJ PI;Ul mack "'• h ,, poht' umhinJ...lhlc·. ·,o '><'t> D1eter Lmge , "I-I 1t1 l ,u nm' ·~ Pl:nw Jut t nll\.mdlnng der f.ts< hi,ti'< lwn Deuts<:hen ,\,lwit'h ont in Gc\H'I "" haftt·n: /nf!chrift fiir (;r~durht\lt'l'lt'll!duift 24 ( l!lifi): l!'iO-fii.
58
Economic Got~nnrmce
feawrc' included the centrahted organizational design augment(·d h\ nonauto1wmnll\ industrial group~. The central organinuion would control union finance~ and would have very wide competence vis-;1-vis the industrial gmups and regional organizations. Some considered the possihility of mandatory membership (with dues to be paid by the employer), arguing that mandatory member'>hip reflected democratic principles "because the working condition' gencr.lled bv union actiYitY arc a benefit to alL"~, Although one motivation hc1 e was the need to finance the organi7ation, it was also an efiort to denv free riders the "fruits of union labor." Another motivation was clearly the hopt• ol u1-.ing mandatory clues to prevent competing unions from appearing alongside the "unitary" union toward which the several leaders were cJearh working."1 But whatever the outcome of the continuing debate between proponenLs ofindustt·ial and unitary unionism, the Allies were unwilling to accq>t this "lesson" kat ned bv some Weimar labor leaders about the cost~ of division and therefore unwilling to accept ,\ reformed DAF. In the D.\F case the weight of Allied authority was significant, yet Allied reliance on any sort of "functional equivalent model" remains unclear. In order to sec the real significance of transfer, one must back away from the OAF tree and look at the labor forest. The three most important Allied influences on Germ.u1 union organizations were the limitation of unions to collective bargaining functions, the choice of industrial rather than unitary stmctures, and the proc(•durcs adopted for union organization. Anglo-Arne•;can models and l\fC influence were important in all three decisions. The end of party-affiliated unions did not mean that trade unions wanted to end 1heir political aClivi ty. Yet although the large nHyority of German trade unionists \n·n· committed to some form of economic democracy, the Allies propost•d fit it lv strong divisiom between economic and political activitie~ and rejected 'lwcific attempts to "ckmouati.le" economic relations. Allied policy encouragNiunions to focus all their organi.rational efforts instead on collective bargaining, which, as AFL internationalists such as Irving Brown constantly claimed to European labor leaders, had secured for American workers the higlw!>t living standard in the world.-·:1 Kc(·nan expressed this policy in
;1 <.ot lo •'>•~mund. quoted iu \lil'IJ..•· .mel Ri'utc:"· "D11 ll\F," .10:;. A 'mall ~wup .uound \dam '>tt "'< "'·•ltl "·" J.l\o J.tU<~t tt·d ll\ tlw notion of lahm unu>"' ,,, .1 qua'>i-publi• 1,11ion like: tht· aa· <JI<,o •l'i<'ltl'cl to a\ Eillhtzt,K'' "'''IIIIilll{tm. lwcau'e 1he1 iutlud 1· all w·orJ..e1, in .t '<'< to1 within onr un1on. tlw foll<w.ing P·•~n n"m" "'"an nltn-natnv to tmiL.U\ unioni'm in tlw l""t-\\'01ld \\a• II tkh.ltl'. 53. <>n Juh I 0, I !l~>l. the ~l.u ,h.tlll'l.m ,ulministrJ.Uon\ \\ illr.un Fo.,ter tc:\tifiecl to tht• I lome Forc:igu .\11,111, ( ommmec: thai t .~ tnnHIIl" pt·• capita"'.., ,tlxnlt $1.700 per annum. \\IH"II'a'> in
·''"'<
59
IMITAliO:-< Al\ I> PouT I< '>: REDESIGN IN<·
Mou•· RN
G~.RMANY
a 1946letter to the CJO'sjames Carey: "The more re~ponsibility we put on the trade unions to secure their own o~jective'> b\ economic strength rather than by legislauon, which had been the practice in Germany for many years, the better it will be for the working people. B\ the old method, they were dependent more on the passage oflaws than on their own ability to achieve improved working conditions, higher wages and every day [sic] functions of trade unions."~ In addition to the material benefits of collective bargaining for workers (secured in the United States as a right almost two decades later than in Germany), New Deal and wartime American experience with collective bargaining suggested its value in stabiliting wages and maintaining purchasing power.'•'• The same concern with prot<:cting labor's right to free collective bargaining occupied Britain's Labour gm·e• nment, which was backing away from the quasi-corporatist Joint Producti\it\ Councils forged during wartime. · If there wac; Anglo-American agreement that legitimate union activity should be centered in the economic domain, the Americans took the lead in promoting rapid party development to dominate the political domain. General Clay especially pushed the parties to develop quickly, even when the wisdom of his decision to set local elections for early 1946 was doubted by his own staff and by many party leaders in Germany.''' As the parties grew in im portance as a locus of political decision making, union hopes for a central political role began to fade.:>~~ Both MGs justified their narrower visions of Ia bor's role in rebuilding German societ) with the claim that unions would need flexibility in bargaining for changes in \\ages and working conditions. The implication was that unions should focus on private-sector bargaining and eschew legislative goals, which might prove inappropriate for society's further development. This understanding of unions frustrated German labor's agenda for inclusion in a broad range of questions about the society and the economy through local, regional, and national levels of an "economic council." The rapid reintroduction of party competition and the building of 1
hance H \\.t~ \till onh .1bnut ">~!:i. In Germam, .mnu.llnltnmt• H·numecl belo" S:lO() per c.lpit.l at thi~ point. 5-t. Keen.m toJ.um·, ( lit'\, Juh 30. 19-t6, .\lean' .\rdmn. hm. 12. loldl.'r 03. 55. Chri,topht·J 1 in l'mt·\\,Jr Britain," in JlmwKrml'lll, l.ahom, and lndtHlnnl Po/ittn m Mmlnn t:uropr. l.'d.Joseph Mc·lling and Alan McKinlav (1\mokfit'lcl, \'1.: Edward Elgar, 1996), 2!l-:l7. 57. Sec tht' dia11 t'llll it·' for September 2 and 26, I !l If>. andJanuaJ \' 20, 1946, in.Jamt's Pol· lock, Besalwnf{ 1md Stnnllfw(hau mzch 1945: Orruf)fllllm IJzmv mull'rwnlf rnrrt~fJOndt·nu, 1915/948 (.\lunich: R. Oldt•nbomg. 1994), RO, R6, 147 5R. See Cewe1 k'th.lhlidwn /.onensekretar ial\ (1~1 i1i'h Zone, Abt. \\'inschaft,politil.), "\\INtchalNkmokJ.IIH'-\'or,thlaege tum Aulbau t·inn "ir l'< h.tllitht•n SelhstYen,.tltung," Dtl\• 'eldorf,Januan 1!117. rqHnm·d in .\'arhkri~dn~t~rhlmul, /9/S-/949, eel. Petn Bu('her (Dann· 'tadt: \\'issemcluftlidl(' Rut hgt>'><'IIS<"haft. 1990), 26:\- i I.
60
Economic GovemanCI'
state legislatures quicklr outpaced the growth of unions. Most factions within the unions 'upp01wd parliamentary democraC\, but their expectation that it would be augmented with "economic democracy" wa<; mistaken. To the extent that the focus on collective bargaining was designed to ensure that wage seuing was not the responsibility of the state, there wac; no disagreement between occupiers and occupied. As in the matter of the Richtungsgmerkschaften, Allied aims dovetailed smoothly with this lesson of Weimar learned by the German social partners. Allied Control Authority's Law 35 set the basic framework, in which it was clear that responsibility for wage set· ting would lie with the social partners alone.'•\' The FRG's 1949law on collective bargaining clearh attributed responsibility for mediation to the social partners themselves, c\ principle reinforced bv subsequent decisions of the high court."' The real issue \\aS whether collective bargaining would be all that unions could do. The Allies' exclusive focus on bargaining was contradictory as well as unpopular. L'nions had a difficult time establishing themselves as ceonomic actors: first, because the MGs controlled wages and work time along with prices, and second, because firms appeared so weak that unions feared that an aggressive push for economic benefits would cause the firms to fail." 1 When 0.\tGUS authorit.ed wage increases of up to 15% in Aprill948, Clay allowed the unions to u~e collective bargaining to arrive at the actual figure, \\-Tiling. apparcntl) without irony, that now "German trade unions had a real issue in which the\ could represent their member'> in negotiations with emplover~:·•·' Both MGs insisted that the unions act the way a wnormal" union should. e\'en if times were so obviously abnormal..,' Unions were told to act Mflexibly" by forgoing institutionalized legal protections (in light of the "unusual nature" of the tasks of reconstruction) but, at the same time, to orient their organizational construction around the normal tasks of labor. The two
59. ..\ propoqlll\ .uuhcu iUl'' of thl.' cmbnonic (,l'l man \l,lft' (Economic Council) in latt' l'l 1H lor a wagt· "cnncili.l!lon l.1w" "·" 1ejected b\ hoth tlw union' .md the.> c:mployer~ a<sociauon' '" too in ten ention1,t , hl,II'MI, each ;~\\Odation would \t,md IX" hind the cleal' it hac! m.tclt• r.uhc·1 than hlanun!-\ tht' ,t,lft' lm lault1 mediation. In thl\ "·"· tht• lnt·,iwble friction of economit chan!-\e woulclrw1 clnt.tbilitt' tht· national econolll\. (.t·ur~t· Phillip Du:!Jtth. "Thl.' f1adt·l'nion Rol~ in thl' Rnomuuuion ol (..elm).ln pl.ltlltt·. tht· ,l,lft' h.L\ macle an\ numlwr olthH',If' that.l failure of the \on.ll p.ut· ners to \Ohe thl'n own p10hkrm might lead to state intern·nuou. , 61. Fichtel, Rl'lflh.tiiiJ.fHIIIuht, 260-64. Chapter 5 di\t'll\\t'' .1 'elatnl dilemma altl.'l Jeunifk.l lion in 1990 in "hit II uniom clifferently on the wagt· p1 t'\Slll e problem. 62. Lutius Clav, Ot'tllltJ/1 in (;t'llllflll)' (New \(>rk: Douhkdm, I !150), 2!18. After the end of "ag<· controb with,\( \ ()J diu.tlltt' 5H on Nmember 3, 1918, tolkctivt' h.ug.uning once agaiu be<.llllt' a meaningful .ltithll\ fw (;t'lllltllUIIOih of tollt·c fl\t' h.u~.tining; 'ee Dieuith, fh, lttulr lmo11 Ro[,, 13-1-t. 63. Set• Lt\\ lll('lllCI, 12.
61
IMITA fiON AND POLITICS: RtWESJt;:-< INC MODERN G~. RMANY
MGs, with their AFL, CIO, TUC, and NLRB personnel, had specific ideas about what \\as normal. But what did German labor leaders want? The two principal competing union models in post-\\'orld War II Germany we• e industrial and unitary unionism."' The key principle of industrial unionism was that one union would organiLC all the workers in a single sector." • These indusu ial unions would be largely autonomous actors \,;th control of polin . wage bargaining. strikes. and finances. The concept of unitarJ unionism was that each geographical area (rather than each industrial sector) would have one union. which would then contain industrial or craft groups. Policy auton01m and the control of finances would clearly lie with the central bod). as had been the case with Sweden's Landesorganisationen (LO) Congress (established in 19-11) or Austria's Osterreichischer Gewerkschaftsbund (OGB) (founded in April 1945) . 1 ~' Advocates of unitary unionism foresaw local, regional, and ultimately national levels of operation. Among both the Germans and the Allies there were proponents of each form, but Allied policy quickly and clearly came to favor industrial unions, whereas unitary unions had majority suppo rt among Germans. Again, as the divide between competing Allied and German aims grew larger, the concept of transfer became central. German proponents justified unitary unions mostly with reference to concrete challenges: the concentration oflabor's forces to push for economic democracy and prevent future divide-and-conquer tactics, the hope of a powerful counterweight to the Communist unions in the Soviet tone, and the realitation of social functions such as educating youth and retraining adults in democratic concepts. Yet if new challenges in\'ited new structmell, old con<"erns about concentrated authority seemed especiallv rele\'ant in the immediate aftermath of. azi centralization. The Allies \'arioush· worried that unitan Mructures could be taken 0\'er by fascists or b\ Communists. or simpl) us<·d as bases of political power in their own right. Proponents of unitary centl alitation defended their plans against these charges of <·xce<>lli\'e power with an argument that johannes Kolbe characterized as tlw "tvrannv of proven
ti I. I u ,.,H ,upportt•r, nl craft unionism-HPilt/(lf"ltPfmr· ·" 1<-dt•r,tlion 0\'1'1 it' inclu;trr.tl ;uHI naft union nwmlwrs. >ee L~1rs F.kclahl and All .Johan"on, " I'IH' F nd of a lli\toricor l'mom. eel . .Joan Campbe-ll (\\e;.tpor t, Conn <.rt•t•nwood, 1'11)2). 17-1~1.
62
Economic Govf'Y'nanre democrats."~>?
Their claim was that trade union leaders, more than officials of other organizations, could be trusted not to abuse authority. These leaders had little chance to test their claim. The prevention of a central unitary union organitation wa~ one outcome of an alliance between occupation authorities and German proponents of independent industrial unions. The principal tool of both MGs wao; the issuing of licenses to indiv;dualunions. The~ maintained strict liceming procedures, and several existing unions reestablished in the immediate postwar period were dismantled for not follm,;ng the rules."" Yet although the Allies made no secret of their strong preference for indusu·ial unionism, both MGs allowed many unified unions to form, especially in 1945. The explanation of this apparent contradiction lay in a second aspect of the Allies' view of what legitimated a unionnamely. shop elections-and reflected Anglo-American understandings of organintional democracy. OM GUS especially laid substantial importance on the legitimation of unions in individual firms through shop elections andestablished detailed processes with strong similarities to NLRB certification elections. Works council representatives elected by secret ballots were allowed to construct a committee to apply formally for recognition of a union at firm level (and this step simultaneously disallowed an application in that locality by those not connected lo a firm). The Americans insisted that the workers then express their desire for a union by acquiring written support from 25% of their numbers.~"' Afl<·r submitting their application to OMGUS, local officials could begin building the union by recruiting members, electing a board, and generating a program. Generally, only then would OMGUS grant approval, and this process of certification had to be repeated for firmleYel unions to join together in either industrial or unitary organizations. During 1945 many unitan union!> were thus certified. In the British zone the pro<"ess was similar. and strict adherence to requirements meant that manv union foundings were delayed and several declared void. 7° Former \\'eimat unionists who were active in establishing unions clearly struggled with the regulations. For application purposes these leaders generally built a committee from networks that had remained intact
tli. '·Herrschaft cler bew:il11 ten lkmo~1 .11<'11,.. <JUOtt·d in 1\lid~t· and Rirtters, "Die OAF." 309. 1>8. Fichter, B~lrtl:ltn}fllluttht, I 12- 1H: Rolf Stt'inilll{l'l, "h1~lancl und die dnn~che- Gewcrk· schafbhe"\Vt·gung. 1\Hf>-H)." ,1rflm, fiil Sm.wiJ
63
IMIIATION AND P011 nr.s: Rtu~.SIGNING
Mom:RN
Economic Gqut'nla7UI'
Ct:RMANY
at home and abroad over the fascbt period. Then, while the MG investigated their application, they went to work recruiting members and building a program. As in the U.S. zone the process of legitimating union organizations reflected not only ideas about democratization but the actual practices in the society of the occupying power. As one skeptical MG official noted to a TUC officer in 1945, the elections in the British zone im·olved a "miniature parliamentary election complete with nomination by eight sponsors, election of a returning officer, di,·ision of the factory into constituencies and a number of other purely English practices." 71 The Allies' restrictive regulations forced unionists to spend considerable time on the internal democracy of their organizations, occasioning delays that were consequential because the} occurred while the political power of German capital was at a low ebb. By the time organizational prerequisites were full1lled, the domestic environment for programmatic changes had grown much less hospitable to labor.71 I have been portraying the disputes about the function and form of German unions in terms of"the Allies" versus "most German unionists." Yet during the first year of the occupation the key disputes within the German trade union movement about form and function were actually reproduced in~ide OMGUS itself. This is hard!} surprising, given the wide range of views within the U.S. labor movement and the remarkable evolution in labor practices between the ~ew Deal Years and the 1947 Taft-Harti<'v Act. AFL oflicials in Germany, working closely \\>ith several officials from the Manpowe• Division of OMGL'S, pushed for "free trade unionism." The OMGUS oflicials also enjoyed the active support of George Mean} . Irving Brown, and J ames Riddleberger back in the United States. The AFL position, which emphasized apolitical business unionism and strong control b} unions 0\er wo1 ks councils. also advocated U.S. support for labor leaders from the old Weimar union federation. The AFL saw these older union leaders, who had often lived in exile during the ~azi regime and had establi~hed their own contact<; with the American, British, and Scandinavian labor movements, as the foundation for a new union movement. 7~ And the AFL linked the programmatic content of free trade unionism to a top-dm\n approach to constructing labor organizations. An example is the Wi-.rttembcrgischer Gewcrkschaftsbund, founded in Ma} 1945 b\ a handful of so<·ial democrati( and Christian trade union functionaries. It consisted of a central body of fifty to one hundred officials who established a network of local and industrv-affi liated unions through which they recruited members.
;-..Telllwr the free u·ade unionism approach nor the dependence on Weimar labor lc.:aders was uncontroversial. Influential members of the Manpower Di\ision. including it<; leader, Major General Frank McSherry, advocated in~tead .t grassroots approach. 1 Doubting that the veq union leaders who had proved themselves unable to help the nation resist fascism the first time would be able to do so the next time. they proposed that the labor movement build ~ubstantially on the local antifascist committees-the so-called antifas-that had grown up in the last weeks of the war. 75 The antifascist committee' .md shop locab themselves did not share the "idespread notion that only a (Cntralit.ed labor movement could protect workers' rights. But although the Allies made occasional use of the antifas in denazification efforts, the M< ;s (and SHAEF before them) also distrusted them as potential competitors to political parties. T he antifas, organized in at least eighty cities in the l 1.S. and British zones, had been immediately limited bv the Allies to apolitical functions inside individual firms, where they made up the bulk of the movement for grassroots unionism. 7 " As articulated by their key proponent in the M.mpower Division, Mortimer Wolf, the grassroot' position tumed upon the use of the elective, rathe• than the appointi\·e, process in trade union organization. It contemplated that the German people, including workns, required elcmenuu y exercises in the use of democratic processes at tht lowest and simplest levels; that in the formation of trade unions, popul;u initi,lli\e and participation should be encouraged; that for the emergence of dcnwnacy in Germany a new elective leadership was required, which might pro\c a libcrali7ing influcnct· and source of leadership be\'ond the trade union field; and that the ind<'f1nite continuance of an appointed leadership would necessarily impede the development of a democratic trade union mo\ement.' Statt· Department officials and the supporters of free trade unionism in the AFl. rejected a su·ict requirement that all union certifications grow out of shop elections and sought successfully to open up some possibility that t~de unionists could restart locals prior to developing firm-based organizatiOns. But they argued that since the personnel who could stan such unions
74. Tlw h~·,t anount of I he "free 11.1de union" ,·en,m "gra~sroot\ unioni,m" di'>put<: is Fichrer, lk>o ':.uu,;> ruuht. 71i-H9. 12!!-75.
i5. Sn Lut7 Ni1·JI1.1mmt•• n a1 .. t'(k, Arbt·rtrruu/W/It•r /9-15: \ntifasrhlllllrht ;\ulllhtiist wullu· rlrr .11/it·itrrlJ'wef.,I'IIIIJ{ ill [)r/1/lrhlaud (Wupp1'1lal. Ge• m.mv: Pel('l Hamnwr, 1976). !'he (!roup of ollice" '" inclin<'d t•njmed 'uppo11 mmide 0\1Gl1S from Sidm•' Hillman ofth<' CIO; 1 111 ~''' Ht·\ln, lt>adn of th<· l.abour P.u t~ in Bnwin. "·" ,ti<'(' 721 llh
71. 1·.. ,\. Br.uualls 1ellt'l to H . ll,lle). Sqnembt•• 15. 191">. •cprinJt•d in appt•ndix w Stein· ingc•. "I ng1and unrl die dnnsche (,n,erl..'' haftsbewt•gung," 9H. /'.!.. \lldl..t- and Riiuer'. "Die DU "25 7~. Juli ,t .\ng,t<:l. "Kolhc:ns!..ap•talismm und '> .. ( Ph.D. diss .. l lniversll\ of 1 f1bingen. 1999).
64
ii. !\.l01timer \\olf mc:mo to.J. H. llilldring. febn~nnted in Qrullm :.ur Ge1rlurhte d,.,.fkut\1 /11·11 (;ewnkllhnfl!lJ'II~'J."' "K· (i · I !l!l-202
65
bHIA 110:-: ,, "n
Pou11<.s: Rt.ot.!>H., IN(. Mom RN Gt.R~f , , ,.
were oflen returning from exile and were unknown in the firms , the grassroots demands were unrealistic and would promote Communism. A bitter intra-division fight developed around the free ll ade union faction\ approval of the aforementioned Wttrttembcrgischer Gewerkschaft~bund. Officials from that faction argued th,\l it would be unfair to forn· the organization's dismantling, even though its earlier French certification clearly contradicted OMGUS procedures. Wolf, in communications back to \'\'ashington, fed the fire by accusing tlw works councilors of being merely "self-appointt•d union officials" and comparing tht~ union t>kctions in Stuttgart to DAF elections under the Natis. Not until late 1945 and t•arly 194() did the free trade union faction persuade General Clay to replact• the OMGUS olliccrs who supported the grassroots position. The kev factors in the demise of the grassroots position were external pressures brought to bear on Clay b) AFL and congressional leaders and internal contradictions of cfrorts to cede key areas of political activity to the labor movement (once its democratic bona fides were established through elections) at a time when the MG was still comolidating its own authority. 7x Yet OMGUS still faced a dilemma: the Weimar unionists who benefited from the victorv of the free trade union backers over the gra~sroots faction had the it own ideas about institutional design , and these visions often d id not match those of OMGUS. O lder Weimar union leaders generally did not share the victorious free trade union faction's enthusiasm for independent industrial associatiom 1 ather than a unifit·d union with strong cenu·al authodty over relatively weal.. industrial, craft, and regional groups. An opinion poll of union members conducted in late 1946 by the OMGUS Information Control Di,·ision found that 69% pt cferred unitary unions against only 22% for industrial unions. Among nC\\ members the proportions wt•rc even more striking: 75% versus 12%.79 Still, not all local union organizations developed as unitary locals, although clearly most did. In Bavaria, a~ in the other Liinder (states) of the U.S. 10ne. some had been developed around one principle and some around the other.~ The Munich, Augsburg, Rcgensburg, and \
Em nmmc (d1tnnanu
Institutional transfer, I have argu(•d. is not a decision but a process-a feedbar k loop of policy decisions. societal countermove~. and adaptations. \ faking the Allied position in support of industnal uniormm more palatablt' were some problematic experiences with unified unioni!>tn. For example, in Ba,·aria the unified Bayerischer Gcwerkschaft~bund, established in March !947. \\ ,\'>designed to have control of union finances and even to pa\ all the full-tinH' employees of the subordinate unions out of its own budgt·t. :--:either principle proved unshakable, however: four unions negotiated successfully for e' cmptions to the polin of central financial contwl. and at lea~t two other small uniom. hired their own oflicials because of concerns that the cen tral organitation was neglecting their sector's needs. A similar confrontation \\ith diflir ulties inherent in unified unions occmred in \\'l'u ttemberg-Baden, when ·. 1)\ the time of the firM Land-w1de conference in Dt>cembcr 1946, the cenu·al organizational authority had been so much rcllhuffied to the advantage of the industrial unions that only one-third of the funds were still flo\,ing to the center.'~• Starting in 1946, with the end of its internal dispute. O~fGCS plus AFL and CIO officiab offered strong and constant support for industrial unionism and material support in the form of newsprint and ~care p of scale in localities with few members, the North-Rhine and Lowt·r Saxonian unitarv movements were dearly driven by ideological cominion. As their leaders articulatt·d time and again, theY considered the unitan unton the on!} organitation that could nmcentrate working class in terests lo prevent any return to fascism and to push toward a new economic and SO< tal order. Once that new order was established. there would be much less net·d for cla-;sic trade union funnions such as su-ikc'> against particulat ~irms 01 .sectors. The unitary union was also thought to help repn•scnt class •nterests in major social issues of the moment, such as housing and food. As
iS. Fil htt'l . & w t:lltiJ..'liiUUhl, I i 1- ;;,.
i9. lhrd. , 1\li. HO. SieJ,:fried Mielke,
" Crnltl'll und Moti\1' der Finfha-\lr,thme dcr .rmer·ikani-c ht·n Milit:ull'!(it:runJ.: .urf tkn \ufh.m unci eli<· Organi,ation"truklur ckr Ge\\ er J.." haft en in ckr amerik;r· ni,t h ('n 1\t·, .tVllllg\/OII l'.- / ntmwltt>llnfr 1\/w·llldwft/uhr h J>IIr·<pom/rll:
66
Ill. lhHL , I '1\!-!l:t ll2. Tlw lll.lll) n olt'' lr <>Ill (.,,., nr.m nnioni'" 1,., t•i,e cl h\' A Fl. ollit ial' <'I'. :'.It-am Archl\ t:\, hm. 1i .
67
Economic Gmwmanre
1'.11 rAn oN
ANU Pou nc:s:
Rt:ok:SIGNII\C~
\1oDI·.R"' G1.RMANY
in the· American wne, only a minority of trade union ofllcials agreed with the MG that su<:h a union organization would be incompatible with democrac), initiative, and a lack of bureaucracy."1 Throughout the fall of 19 F> the British MG attempted to dissuade German unionists, e~ped,tlh l lans Buckler in North-Rhine and Albin Karl in Lower Sa..xonv, from the unitarv approach. As noted, the primarv mechanism for doing so "as the imposnwn of legal re'>trinions on union organitation. A<> long as unit.u' umonism remained the guiding principle. few new unions were allowed, and man) C'XI'>ting ones were disbanded. Bockler. KarL and man} others "ere confrontc·d with the possibilit' that insisting on a particular organitation would mean that the movement simph could not go forward. The other key MG tool turned out to be the Trades Union Congress. In the fall of 19!5 the TUC, to that point a peripheral participant in u ade union 1 policy, wa~ approached about going on a "mission" to the British t.one.~ T he MG ol~jenive was to convince TUC officials that German prcfen·n<:es for unitary unionism not only were incompatible with democratic development or dl'cctive interest representation but also reflected cultural i11clinations toward authoritarian organizations. The TUC delegates, after a handful of stops inside the zone, fell into line behind the MG and wrote on November 27 to l lans Buckler of their strong disapproval of the unitary union. Bockler read the letter to other North-Rhine union leaders, remarking. " I don't see anY othe1 choice besides, with a heavy heart, to dwp our plans and to orient our.,elves along the advice of our foreign friend~.""'• On Dccembc1 7, 1945, the North-Rhine union officials officially though reluctantlY abandoned ef· forts to build the unitarY union. Buckler noted that it "wa., time to finally get recognition so that we <:an move forward with our work. How can we do this? It will be possible if we change our plans. Thi., means that \W mu'ot for now build autonomous unions without losing sight of ow longe1 term plans.~ " But hi., obvious hope of revisiting the issue was da.,Jwd; .tlthough Albin Karl held out for .,ome time in H anover, the unital) union was finished in the Brit· i.,h wne ."' It is perhaps not surprising that a government headed b) La· bout-a part\ founded by unions lO prevent the PJHroachment of politics into the sphere of collective bargaining-was so hard on Cet man union leaders' institutional aspirations. If the influence of the British MG on this point is dear. tlw issue of insti· tutionaltransfcr is less clear than in the U.S. zone. The motivations for Allied
s:l. Miclkt·. lnuodm:tionw Or~anilfllmiltltn
s I. nw ddiniti\t'
\uf/11111, 1.·.. or the mi"ion ;, in S1einingt'l,
,,~/tlllli
rlllrl
tlw tlrul\rht (:rul('dt ·
policies toward uni~>ns (mi.lit:uy cont~·ol, democratization, and, especially later in the occupauon, anu-Commumsm) were complex and often contradicton·: additionall). the British \.1G was pu'>hing a policy of industrial unionism that looked \'l'l') diflerent fmm the predominantly craft-oriented British svstem. Yet the verv ambiguity of n.nional models of industrial relations wa'> used b' the British to sugge'>t that the\ had faced many of the same issues as the Germam and had found a superior form of organization. One official's criticism of Albin Karl's appeal !or the unitary union acknowledged centralism's temptations even fm the TLC 'et urged Karl to resist them: In the [mi.,-.ion\1 t'll.pc·nt•nn•, a hi.·a,ih centraliLed organization ine,'itably be· cotll~'' btHcaucran. Tht• Bt itish Track~ Union Congress fought bureaucracy in thi~ counu \ during the W
At essentially the same moment, however, the T UC was supporting unitary unionism for Czechoslovakia and Austria. Defenders of this "apparent contradiction" in policy noted that their visits with those union leaders had inspired confidence, wherea~ they were simply less sure that all Germ an trade 1 union leaders. present and futlll e, wuld be similarly trusted.~'' T he T UC, then, was not com·inccd that the industrial model was always preferable but o;eemed to argue rather that there needed be an appropriate fit between structural modeb and the pat ticular social actors who would be using them . The British used the functional equivalent approach chiefly to justify policies chosen for a mix of other reason:.. Here. the Bdtish model of industrial relations was strategically imoked (in the sense highlighted by the policyborrowing literature), rather than functioning as a consistent guide to MG polin. Restrictive Pmrtim: Allird J.imil.\ on Code/pnnination
German labor leaders were less divided about union participation in economic managemen t than about unitary unions, for almost all advocated some form of codetet mination. Thus, the codetennination case involved in-
\1/tflf/1/WHVJ..'IIIl~. 69-1'\7.
Wo . QuoH·d iu '>chmidt, [)ip \1,/mulnlr' ,\r~tmdltllll~. II. Hh. Quoll·. Hi . K.nllin
I"'''
(I ounll ~kim. 1\ll'i'). 111' -~1.
68
88. L 1'.
11.111 j, 10
\I hill K;ul , J.ullt.u, H. 1() 16.
~t•ptulted in St~:ininget, E11gllmd 111111 dirdn111rltf
C',...,mlfhlljrli• tl'I"I,'TIIll:, 117 IS 89. lhicl .. 1'\~).
69
IMI rATION AND PouTrcs: REDEsrc:-
~titutions stronglv favored by the German labor movement but opposed by the allied MGs. The Allies not only faced a more unif1ed front but in this matter. unlike the collcctive bargaining case. initially had no jJrogmmmatir alternative to offer from their own models. They did, however, u\c their own domesuc models in a negative way: namely, as e\idence that respomible unions did not need codetermination."'1 But if they clearh· tried to tram.fer their own structur<·s. the fact that German unions did eventually pre\ ail in efiorts to institutionalit<' corletermination-little known in American and British industrial H'l.uions of that period-raises the question of how dlcctin· tht•ir transfn dlort was. Cock-termination has often been damned b\ German nii/Jfoypn a\ an wAJlied fH' '>ection makes three points. First, it complements the atfount of Allied uansfe1 efforts in union structure and collective bargaining. From the perspective of Allied policymakers-the perspective privileged in this analysispromoting certain functionally equivalent structures presupposed restricting other kinds of functional efforts. With regard to collective bargaining, restrictions wt·re linked to a positive role for unions: hence, the notion of "constitutiv<~" transfer employed above. Effective transfer required turning minority wings of the German labor movement into dominant on<•s. ln the case of cocktnmination, however, a "restrictive" mode of transfer prevailed initiallv; a positiw Allied vision for unions in economic management carne only vcrv late, unrle1 the administration of the Marshall Plan. And the· Allies had ft•\, ;wailable partners because on the basic demand for union participation in economic governance. whether in indi\idual firms or in making economic polin. Cennan laborwa<; more united than in the debates mer indu~trial versus m11tan unionism. Second. therefore. this section demonstrates that the pron·ss of restrictmg institutional ambitions can play a central role in larger processes of imitation. This point is especially relevant to discussions of economic liberalitation . where the emulation of 'best practices" often sec·ms to rt·quire some deregulation in the form of removing institutional protectiom. The transfer of "leaner" foreign models can mean forgoing. rather than adopt mg. certain practices. Third, the politics of the ca'!e reveals that what was nevertheless eflective about Allied policies was the way both their programmatic and negative policies c·ndmed over time and came to be ratified by both state and society in Cermany. In the face of a stronger labor consensus-which extc•ndt•d to substantial pa1 ts of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU)-the Allies fought a
~10. \h dl'lllt< 11on fx·twt>en po,itin• ancl negati,·e integration mil ro1' tlw dl'1111< 11on1n Mtpra· ll.ltional•c·giuw,. Sc·c· h1V Scharpf. "Negdti\e and Po,iti\(' lnt<>gr.uion in llw Pohtlc.tl Vconon•~ of ('ulopc·.ut Wc·II.uc· State,.· in (;,11 '1'1 1W11U ; , th~ Ewopnm l 'uum. C'CI. ( ;,u, \l.ul.' ( lhoU'>
70
Eronomir Covemancl'
rearguard action. defending their restrictions with references to their own societies and with appeals about what was "good for Germany." They did ultimate!~ allow limited forms of codetermination even when it had been their intention not to. But the limits they set, though undoubtedly frustrating labor\ broader agenda, did not halt this agenda so much as channel it in particular directions, especially toward an appreciation of ~productivity. ""1 Gennan unions did not drop their eflon to exert a broader influence over Gennan society just because the two MGs sought to limit them to collective bargaining. Their most ,·isible eflort to achieve a political role came through attempts to acquire legal rights to codetcrmination. This effort can be di\ided into three overlapping phases, during which Allied influence moved from restriction to adjudkation to channeling.'rl German codetermination resulted from a series of struggle~ in which labor's vision of codetermination was re\iscd from a provisional step toward self-determination to a goal in and of itself. In the first phase, unions struggled in the immediate postwar months to rebuild their organizations and carve out a sphere of authority in a political economy highly regulated by the occupation. Though they gradually recognized that the AJiies would not permit outright socialization of indusu·y, they continued to advocate some form of increased democratization of the economy. Union demands for "societal codetermination" grew out of many of the aspirations behind the economic democracy in Weimar. 93 A range of codetcrmination proposals circulated among labor elites, but the core idea was that unions should gain the legal ability to influence a broad range of social, political, and economic questions. The Deutscher Gewerkschaftsbund 9 I. Sp.tce t omider.ttio"' pr<:H'lllt•xpli< .uiou of the '>imil.tr ca'>e of Alii eel resuictions on po'>t· "~\\ orb mun('il,, wdific:d in \(. \ l.:tl\ 22 of April 10. 1946. and bitterly ('ritid7t'd b\ both umon~ and 1\orl.s ('Ouncih '"a IH'.1lenmg of l.lb. The Jaw on works council~
finall' pa<'o(:d b~ the Buncft',t.tg 111 19~>2 '''" I.u \\t'g•·•phy on tlw '"lrl.s councils in t11~ period, \ee the note> tn Karl l.au\l:hlt·. "lndmtrit'lk lkllt'hung<'n im lktrieb nach 1945." in Cntn-ru-hmnt :w11· chm .\tarkt und .\tmltt. c·d. \\'<:rrlt'r Plumpt• and Chri,u.m h.ll'lmchmidt (lssen: Klanext, 1992) . 92. Th<>rc: ha' he<>n a g•ol\ing intc·rt''>t in onup.tuon polit·ie'> toward codetermination: Horst Thum. \lllht-•ltmmwtK l1l 1/n ,\trmlmlltllfllllr" /Jrr \l_)llw• PCJm 'iug dn- ('.ro.'f'Yk.schaftm (Stuttg;ut: Deul\Cht' \ 'e rlag,·An\t.llt, 19M2): \oll.t'l Ikrgh.thn and Iktk\ Karsten,/mlu~trial!Ulatwm in 1\r>l C,..nan.l (Oxford: Ikrg, 19H7); (,lwr,t Mtllle•, .\lrtl~1111nmtmK m tin- .VachkriRgsuit: Britisch' JJ/o. satr.r:"{<'marht L'11tf'Tnfhmn··(;n,,nkltlllljlm (Dtl\\t·ldorf, 19R7); F.i\enlwrg, "The Limits of Dc:rnocracv : :1.1icha<>l Fichter, "HICO(, and 1hc: lin ion~ in Wnt Germany," and Diethelm Prow<>, "G<>r· man Demonatitation "' Con\er Vlc•w Yorl: C.nnlnidge Universit} Press, 1993); Uui,.toph Oanmann, Rr-Oiltnlmtwn nfl'mt¥?, Jomt Cmoultatum, 111 Produrtmit)' Coalitions? (Boclwm. Gcr· many: X Rt ockmt'V<'t, 1996); .\uthon) ( .,u t•w, l .lllHI/Ir tllllii'T' thr .\tanlwU Plrm: Tlu Polrttrs of Pro· ductrvrty (111d 1111' MarkrlmKt>}AtmwKI'IIll?l/ Sw•11rr (Detroit: Wa~nc: State Univer,.il) Press, 1987). 93. And as with "economir dc·mcKt.ln." thc· "'KIIl' n<'\\ of "cockt<>r mination" allowed each leader to '\C.'e whatlw wanted in tlw 'logan. ~·c· Ft.lllt Nnnnann, "The !.'thor :1.1o,cmc:nt in Gel many; in (',,IU111) and th, J'utrur t>}/;tlwjH' c·cl I I.u1' \101 K<' lllhau (Chicago: Cniver-;ity of ( 'hkago Pre,,, 1951 ) . 10:\ - 1; Kt•n. "The T1.t
71
1:-..~ITATION AND
Pouncs:
Rt:m:srGNING MoDERN GERMANY
(DGB) , especially the secretariat around Ludwig Rosenberg, was clearly the center of these theoretical elaborations of economic democracy. As the DGB's Bockler put it in 1946, "We must be represented in the economy in completely equal terms, and not just in individual organs, not just in chambers, but in the economy as a whole. "~H Such an agenda for labor clashed with the Allied understanding of proper union prerogatives, and the rapid consolidation of party competition in legislatures also undercut the unions' proposals for economic governance "councils," even when the unions advocated them as complementary to parliamentary democracy. ·while societal codetermination was being pursued unsuccessfully at the macro level, German labor leaders began to explore other routes to codeterminationY" [n this second phase, especially after the DGB's Bielefeld conference in August 1946, the older emphasis on labor's voice in controlling monopolies and cartels was superseded by a stronger emphasis on controlling individual large entcrpriscs. 91; The unions concentrated their efforts on heavy industry-historically, the site of significant labor strength and determined managerial resistance. Distinct from the council-centered notions of societal codetermination, the newer ideas called for the appointment of labor representatives to supervisory and management boards of individual firms. In this the unions could rely on some degree of sympathy from the Allied forces, who saw a need to balance the power of oligopolistic business. The American diagnosis of the German (as, for that matter, of the Japanese) steel sector was that it was an unholy alliance between large, nearly monopolistic producers of standard steel and pig iron-Yahata in .Japan and Vereinigte Stahlwerke and the Hermann Goring Werke in Germany-and an array of smaller specialized producers attached to the bigger firms by ties of ownership or contractY7 Accordingly, decentralization ofRuhr steel firms was a pillar of occupation policy. But the Allies also remained skeptical-though to dilTerent degreesof putting labor on the boards of the entities that emerged from restructuring. Had the Manpower Division been the sole Allied protagonist in the British zone, restriction would have been quite severe.91{ British Manpower did prefer union representation on firms' supervisory boards to the concept of works councils, but the British shared OMGUS skepticism about putting a Ia-
94. Quoted iu Bcrghahn and Karsten, fndu!trial Rrlation1, 174. 95. Space considerations prevenl I he elaboration of propo~als on ~ocialilation of industr~·· for these debate~. see Thum, Mitbl'1timmung in d!'Y .\toutanindUitrir: and Mi'tllct. Mitbl'.ltimrmmg m di'Y .Vachkrir~zrit. 96. For details, see Danmann, Re- f)istribution ofPowrr, 95-102. . 97. Cary Herrigd. "American Occupation, Market Order, and Democracy," in Ami'Yiwniwttotl and Its Limits: Reworlling Amn'imn Trrhnolop;y and .\1anagi'11U'tlt in /C:u1'0pe and japan n.fii'Y HQ.·ld H0r lf, eel. Jonathan Zeitlin and Cary Herrigel (:\ew York: Oxford University Press, 2000). . . 9R. :\h-lller, Alitbl'1timrmmg, also emphasize> the British role in restricting codetenmnauon to the iron and steel sectors.
72
Economic Governance
bor representative on management boards.'11' But the British skeptics were not the key actors in the momentous decisions around worker participation in the steel sector. Rather, an ad hoc organization only loosely integrated into the British MG, the North German Iron and Steel Control (NGISC), was the site of several key decisions. The NGISC elTort~ to dismantle iron and steel firms delivered a second key impetus to the establishment of firm-level codetermination. The threat of Allied dismantling made German managers' traditional antagonism to unions seem less pressing, and some managers began to see the possibility of recruiting unions to their side in persuading the occupation forces to limit industrial dismantling. It was clear that the price for this cooperation was to give labor more voice in the operations of firms. Fleshing out this demand challenged union leaders in the British zone. At first, even the key DGB officials around Beckler (who were working with industrialist Heinrich Dinkel bach and the NGISC's William Harris-Burland on the details of what became the special form of codetermination for the coal and steel industries, Montamnitbestimmung) were uncertain as to the competencies of a labor representative on the management board. 100 But over several months of negotiations the sides developed a model of codetermination in which labor had equal representation on the supervisory board and in which each management board included a single labor representative approved by the unions. Significantly, this form of codetermination applied only to firms in the iron and steel industry and was not codified by parliamentary legislation. Concurrent British MG efforts to restrict worker participation in management were motivated by efforts to model German industrial relations on British ones, but NGISC's isolation from most of the British MG seems to have played a key role in its incubation of this exceptional and important agreement. 101 In the U.S. zone, where no such major deconcentration program brought unions and employers to the table over codetermination, the development of state parliaments alTered labor a chance to establish codetermination through legislation. As the unions' numbers and organizational strength grew, they began pressing state governments for codetermination laws. Despite Clay's warnings, in 1948 state governments in Hessen, Bremen, and Wiirttemberg-Baden passed legislation-albeit weakened through negotiations with the Christian Democrats in all three parliaments-allowing some codetermination in firms. In Hessen , 72% of voters confirmed their support for this provision in a referendum. \Nhether the vote reflected popular enthusiasm for a new role for labor or frustration with the occupation forces, 99. Berghahn aud Karsten (lr~dustria/ Helation~. 176-77) suggest that the British MC backed codetennination, in part, as an alternati\'e r.o the radicalism of works councilor:.. For a dilli.:rent \'tew, see Dartmaun, Rr-Oi1tribution ofPowa. 129-30. 100. Dan.mann, Re-lhstnbution of Pown·, 116-1 7. 101. lhid. , 25R-70.
73
h.IIIAII0!\1 ANI)
Pout JCS:
RFDF:SJGNIJI((, ~fOil I.!(!\ c~.RMANY
the suggestion of a wnsiderable level of mass acceptance implies that Atncrican restrictions were not welcomed .. e\erthcless. Clav- echocd b} the 0~1GUS EconomiCs DiYision-publich argued that decisions affecting the German economy as a whole had to be left to the entire German nation to decide. U.S. labor leaders who had worked closel> with the American occupation urged Clay not to suspend the German states' legislation. They and many Manpower D ivision officials tried to convince Clay that some democratization of German industry was inevitable and desirable and that codetermination was a better alu.·rnativc than socialiLation. 111 ~ In ~ome cases, union sympath iters inside ~ian power fed information to AFL and C IO officials for usc in p u tting outside pressure on Clay, whom they often 1efcrred to as ~antiunion." "' But in the fall of 1948 the general did suspend the st.\te legislation, explicitl} invoking the Am<.·ric.m model: "Trade union forces seem to sun1ve ver y well in America \\'ithout :.uch a law." 101 As Clay said later, both socialization and codetermination "were foreign to my way of thinking-and to the American way of thinking.... As long as I was there, I was going to try my best to p rove that in encouraging free enterprise we were encouraging a more rap id recovery for G-ermany than would have occurred otherwise. Certainly, I came from a free enterprise country, and I represented to the best of my ability the advantages of free enterprise." 105 One cannot explain away American restrictions by atu·ibuting them to ignorance of German traditions and aims. That charge may hold for Clav. but it certainly docs not for Franz :--:eumann , who went from helping draft societal codetermination legislation during Weimar to opposing it as a member of the U.S. occupation. Neumann argued that since state officials would be involved in such a process, the antidemocratic German civil servants would render such models ineffective for p romoting th e social democratic goals that he sha red. To be sure, his reasoning was different from Clay's, but like the more conservative general he argued that legal privileges could not substitute for a lack of union "militancy." 11~;
102. Cia' di-.ll.(HTmuh (Uloomington: Indiana tlni\1·.-it\ Pn·"· 1!17-1), 9R9. 103. 1-lt'IH\ Ru11 mt·mo to .f•l\ l.ovestont', l.me,IOIW l'.tp<'l,, l\1t·,un Archivt's. hox 56. folckr 12. Similar dvnamic' IVt'lt' at work in British Manpmvt'l, "' 11s lw.ul. Rq~inald Luce. hdpt'd pt· r· ~uade Lord Pal..euh,uu, tht• gnwmment mini\ln 1espoll'ihk fm tht• British tom:, that Bri ti,h · st:vle reslrictiom would go Inn btr 10 curb German lah01'~ flit' I ogati\es. Danmann, Rr·DnlrilmltiJil
oJPow"· 116- 17. 10·1. Quolt·d in Fi.,.·n1wrg. "The Limits of Demou .It\." 77. 105. Quoted in ft•an Fch"ud Smith. Luri!ll /)_ Clm.· ,\n ,\mnrmn l .lft (New York: llenn 1-loh, 1990). 393: aher Cl.l\ H'tilt•cl from the arnl\, tht· Comint·nt.t1 (.,111 Compam. ~Vhich he ht·aclt-d, \\as indicted h' till' l S lkp.uunent ofjustice lor aniillml '"''·'uon' (II). 106. :O.:eum.lnn. I ht· l~1hor \tmcmt'nl in Gt·lmam.· lll:l- t .
74
r:ronomic Cuti/'YIIfll/('(' Lacking legal guarantees. German union\ hopc:d that ,\,fontalllmibl'stunmutl/!''\ou1cl1w a f(>ot in the door of broade1 code termination r·ights in otht•• , ector'. Such hope-. were not fulfilled. Ratht·t. gro,\1ng Cold War tensiom shifted the Allie!>' calculations to the meath of coexistence with the Smtet~. With the on upation forces thinking much more about promoting German and European economic recovery, employers saw less and less need to s<·nu c labor's cooperation. These changes in the international environment and in the strength of businc·ss interests narrowed labor's opportunity for broader participation right~ in firms. By the late 1940~ labor's gains appeared tenuous: Clav hMl smpendcd the codetermination laws of democraticallv elected states: de\clopnwnt~ in the British zone appean·d unstable, given tiw lack of a legi~l.uiH~ basis. The pressing question bccam<· whether the gains of the latt· 1940~ coulcl b<· dcf(.·nded against renewed auact..s from business intere'>ts. At the 'ame time th,lt 0~1GUS disallowed formal codetermination. it continued to pmmote informal contacts along the lines of the social partnership widely thought to have played an important role in wartime America. Indeed, what Charles Maier has termed the "politics of productivity" established a larger policy framework for the issues of institutional redesign pursued by the Allies. w 7 A joint statement of the American and British military governors to both em plover associations and unions emphasi/<.'d in several places the central imponanre the Allies attached to consultation with '\\·orkers, emplovcrs and fann<·r:-." and made clear that they expected the future German government to follm\ that policv as well. The statement con tinued: Moreover, It almoo,t goes without saving tl1<1t in matters which concem em· ployer., and wor kc·rs jointly, and there arc vt•r} lew occasions when their in terests arc \t'Pf.. pat tne1 ~Ill · ·tn
1 ·• 0 7., ( h,u Jto, \f. tit· I .... , ht• Politic' ol l'toduCii1i1v: h_ >IIIHI,Hiom ol .\met iGIII Economit l'oli<, ruler \\ode! \\'•11 . II ••• Ill . l'"·•f u•111 · rmt•·• " · m1d !"·· · /' \ «'11(\: 'IIII'IJ.('II hmtrmtu f>oftttf\ of ,1dt•munf 1111/lllltllll tar~s. ed. Pt•lt'l K-11/t'll'tt·In ( \1.tdi"m: Cnin•t 'il\ of Wi'< omm l'lt'"· I 97H). IOH. fit" plc·.t lo1 lo~t·Jht·llll'" 1\ao; 1ead 'ep;u,llt·h lo rhc t•mplmt·.-· a_,\nci·nion' (on Ft'h· ;~Ian 5: I 'll'l) .111<1 ll.tnt\lfm m (';, 111111/l (( •• u clt·n II\,'\\.· Douhlt·tl.l\, l'l.">fll, ~~~>.
!
75
IMITATIOJ\ ,\1\ll
Pou ncs:
REDESIV'
1948, such rhet01 ic was a hard sell indeed. 1'"' In fact, not until 1954 did real wages reach the lc\ ch of 1938. 1 1 The British M(, too energetically promoted such social partnership but. unlike the C.S. authorities, had neither the inclination nm the organitationalleverage to link codetermination to the issue of producti\it\. And it was this linkage that held the key to an effecti\e use of American influence on German labor's determination to achieve participation rights, as well as an enduring set of organizational structures to protect those rights. Debate on the kgal status and scope of codctermination continued past the transition lO the era of civilian occupation and the founding of the Federal Republic in late 1949. In this third phase, divisions within the occupation, a<> U.S. actors chose side., in the German co "parah.ted" by iL~ inexperience in dealing with the public, its association with :-\a.tism, and iLc; fear of 109. The l..t·' l.1hor pr <>p<>llt'lll of a mort· ""'I).IINC>Il.ll 1 • w.l~t· pol in wa~ tht• DGB\ \'iktur \gart7, who in 1hi' pc·riocl "'" \lill a do'<' alh of B<>tl..kr . On \garv. \ee Hans \\'illi \\'t•intc·n (;,-wnk•dwjlrn 1111tl .\o: ia/i1111111: .\itphlalil \\lr!lrlwj/ldrmokwttr ,wd . lj!arlz \\lltlrlwjllllt'lllmiiiii 11J: (Frankfurt: Calll fH"· lql·t!) . 110. \'oll..cr (.r.m,ow .mdt. I\17H ). 30. Ill. Beclll'<' lw l.l\oot·cl holrlm~ out lor f<"cleo al kg"laiH>Il. 1\i>rl..kr was actualh hok<·,,,u on to the idea ol hhin~ lllC' ''"Jll'll\IOn: thll'; i1 would hkl'h not h.IH' happt·nerl then will10111 ,\fl im oh e11rt'lll. 112. t m il l ~no 1hc '>1.11< lkp.lrtmelll h.HI gc·m·r,rlh cli,,lllm~t·cl nt·w l .S. imntnwnt 111 (;t.•t ll1C.U l\ .
76
Economic Ccnwntmut•
reprisab for public a< tion should the SO\·iets Iat<·• come to occupy We!>I ( .et · man'·· 1 ' Yet the NA\1 inten·ention came acros<, a-. a heavy-handed foreign in trUSion. concerning C\'en some key CDU ollidab who were committed to passing a bill based on a deal between employers and unions and broJ...ered by Adenaucr. 11 1 B~ poru·aying codetennination as a strictly economic inMrument, C.S. lab01 ollicials, working through the State Department, put pressure on U.S., British, and French officials to remain neutral in the parliamentary debates on the issue. At the same time, these officials pressured tlw NAM to discontinue its campaign and urged German employers and the COl' to consider codetcrmination ac; an instrument for productivit} rather than a political tool of labor. After a great deal of parliamentar} and extraparliamentary maneuvering-including significant intervention by Chancellor Adenauer himself-the German parliament pa<;sed a codetennination law in t\1ay 1951 which guaranteed for heav" industn ( tl1is time including the coal sector) the essential features of the model developed in the British zone, as well as a significantly weaker form for other sectors. With the legal basis of codetermination secured, at least for the coal and steel industries, cfl'orts turned to elaborating that legal model. H ere, yet a third U.S. actor en tered the debate, the Labor Division of the Marshall Plan's Economic Cooperation Administration (ECA).••·· On the initiative of the ECA's Clint Golden (alliliated with tl1e Uni ted Steelworkers of America), the Labor Di,ision sought to transform existing codctermination arrangement<; in iron and steel into a basis for labor's participation in efforts to enhance producti\it~. American unionists such as Golden and Merer BernsLCin, also of the steelworkers' union, used instruments of the Marshall Plan in waging a highly effective campaign to recast codetermination as a means for unions to deliver "immediate benefits" to their members by raising the productivity of the firms in which they worked. 117 Sponsoring visits to the United States for union leaders helped break down German skepticism about American indusu·ial relations. For example, after returning from such a visit, Markm Schleicher !>poJ...e with twenty-five groups in tlw next three months, helping thereby to shift some of the weight from Allied negation to German emula1 "
113. \\tor ner Lrnk, Orul\rlw wul aml"fikani!.dll' ( ;,tt¥"Tk lflllljlt'fl wul (;,'lrhiijlfil'lll, , 19-15- 75 ( D\1\ · ~ldorl: Ormte \erl,1g, I!17H). 19. 11 ·1. Darll11<11ll1, u,.f)llfn/ntlwll ofPowt'l', 276.
115. Ibid .. :HH- 27.
.1'"'"'"
116. Set· Cliu1 ( :oiill' Pa1 k. 117. On lh<" amhi\,tlt·oH c· of ( ;t•omao~ labor tOW dloot' to innea-.c h ('nc h pr <> · dunhil\, ' l 'l Ric hard h.ur,d. \rdurmJ! th, r rnrrll. llu· /Jtlnm1111 of l mniram::.JJi roll ( Berkelt·l : lni · \et,it\ of Calrloonr.II'JC·" 1 '~1~ ).
77
1\tiT.-\TIO'o
"l> POLITI(\: Rt DI:.SJ(." JM; MODfR"i Gt R.\f.-\'Y
tion. Marshall Plan officials enticed organized labor with visions of American workers' affluence. easier working conditions, and more humane and trusting relationships on the job. \ccording to Wernet Link. ~Abme all, the po~ sibilities for influence held b~ the American tJ ade unions were recommended as a model-they were much larger than in Germany and were based on excellent cooperation between labor and management; the German workers and their unions would be happy if thev could exchange thc1r shop \te\\oard committees, suspended b~ the milnan governmenL, for such political influence as the trade unions had in the US.~ IlK ECA labor olllcials relentlessly invoked such comparisons in evaluating Germ,m labor\ aims. Bernstein. who sent back dNailed reporL<> on German labor from Dl'tsseldorf. was particularh appalled b\ the wa) the stri\;ng for codctcrmination seemed to take precedence over the drive for wages and safer working conditions. Calculating that German steelworkers' wages amounted to onlv 18% of industry turnover, he reported. ~This is a shockingh low share for labor. In the t:nitcd States labor costs in the steel industn amount to approximately 40%." Moreover, the problematic divide between unions and works councils meant that labor had a weak voice in safety: Bernstein compared the rate of 84 accidents (including an average of 16 fatalities) per month in a large German plant in 1949 ";th the record of a U.S. plant that had "approximately the same number of employees" but had nm for 175 days without an accident.l 1' 1 Since the ECA, lik<· OMGUS, was unable to dissuade German unions f1 om their pursuit of codetermination, it u;ed to redirect thos<' a1ms. Above all, it ne<'dt•d a \'Chicle for promoting producti'ity and found one in codctermination. 1 ~ 11 In forging this new connection, the Labor Division had some credibility v.;th the DGB because of iL'i support during the 1951 codet<'nnination debate. As Chri<.toph Dartmann has demonstrated. Golden\ msight linking productivity to codetermination was taken up by the AFL's Nelson Cruikshank and Helmuth Kern, working inside the ECA. 1 ~ 1 ECA oflicials strove to ensure that productivitv gains would translate into higher wages and lowe1 consumer prin·.., instead of onl~ higher profits or. worse. unemployment.•!! I I H. I ink 01'11/llhr II lUI (/IJit'IIHIII/1\/hP Crtwok>tlwflm. :ti. ~Ill/ r.•rnow, .,, hkit her\ colk,lgtlt' iu tht• \\'t•imar J..er.' unoon, h.td 1isiJt•cl tht· Lnited St.ut·s bdore th< "·" .md wrim·n a11 t·mlwsi,l\tic hooJ.. .1bout the H'lauonships h<·liH't'll )ugh \\a~t·s 1 ,uwnaliJ.JUon and puo ch.l'.in~ pmH·o.IHn &Pwt1(1\anlmarm vm!) (Berlin:\'t·ol.lg-..m~taltclt·s,\1)(,B. 1921\l (.ompan•thl'•IIO· il.u 1 t',lt tion of"""'' non-Comn11111"l Frenth unionists 1 epmlt·cl in Kui"ot·l, 'lnlurmg thr hrmh, 92-!11 1I '1. Bernstt·on knt·• toOt" I\ouh.1J..er. .-\u~ust :.? I. I ~1:)0, lkonstt'in Person.1l ( :onespond.ult e. "ot'l it·s D. bo" -1. Hi,tm it·al Collet uon .mel J.ahw \H hi1 es. Pt·tul"h .mia ">tatt l n11ersit1. I:!U. C..lre\\,l.abmutmdn-th,,\f,nlwll Pflm. 101-li. 121. Dartm.tnu, Rr-/)l:.tnlmtwtlll{ Hm'I'Y. $2H :1:;_ .. 122. I hese dlcuts helped n•mt•nt an explout linl...ag<' ht'l\\t't'n \\.l)\t'' .u1d produol{nals: ( t·utr.tl B.rnJ.. lnclqwndt·IHt', ( 'ootdina tl'd \\,tKt' BaogaonlllK, and Furo(X'•111 \lnnt'l.ll 1 t nwn" (dl'otll"ion P·l(l<'t of the \\i"n'" h.Jfe.Jt·ntnom B.:rlin, 1!1'11>1
'""><'""'
78
Where Bernstein focused mainly on the squalid conditions ofGennan workers, Golden's main motivation was the desire to win the workers for rearmament a.., part of a g• cm;ng competition \dth the Soviet Union. As he put it, ~Hi~toll(ally, rearmament in Western Europe has meant a lowering of liv;ng standard!~ .... Lack of enthusiasm concerning reannament and defense is cJearl~ evident until it is pointed out that by increasing productivity through the introduction of new work methods and techniques it is possible to rearm and at the ~arne time not onl} mamtain but impmue current living standards.~ 1 ~' The Ccrman unions, then, having begun the postwar era with hopes of codetermination on social, economic, and polilicallevels which could be translated mto constitutional prerogatives, saw those high hopes disappointed. The .\Jhed intent to limit the jlll idification of labor's role in societ\ and the econ<>m} was evident throughout this period. Restriction was not the only component of Alli<'d influence in this case, however; in the end, although the militan occupation refused to allow German labor an instrument that British labw distrusted and American unions ksun;ved very well without," the civilian <><cupation, impelled by U.S. domestic interesL<;, actually helped torestore pressure on the FRG government to produce modest codctcrmination. The Ltbw Division of the ECA then sought successfully to channel codetermination b' linking it to productivity gains. Thus did restrictive trdllsfer set real limns on German labor's ambitions for societal codetermination, shape the particular form of firm-level codetermination later codified in federal law, and finally-with the deepening of the Cold War-weld to the structure of codeterrnination the Allied interest in productivity. Nor did American influen.' 2 ~
Rour:-.~<:
BAcK
Ecor-;o~uc At
JOCRACY?
As in the area of labor, occupation policies toward business organizations used Alli<:d models in both constitutive and restrictive fashion. 12'• At various times the Allies tried to prevent the reemergence of trctditional business organization!> and replace them with new su·uctures and practices. In imme123. < h111 Golden nwnw to William Fmtt'r: 10 (origin,tl t•mphasi,). rllt' produnilitl ·teamlam~nt hnJ...lJ,:t' 1\.t.s emplus11t'CI b\ Coldt'n\ h"'~· Robt·rt Oli1er. in a mt·mo to tht' FC\\ l'uhli<' \cl\b()r~ Bo.ud on March H. l!l'il. Sec (ri>ldt·n l'apt"rs, ll<" I. file IH: 1 fi. 124 ..\n!tstt'l, "Konst·nsJ...lpitali~mus unci SoLialdt'oHoJ..t atic," dcr.uh tlw Amt'n< .on o~ml British roles in tht• ' low ideologir.11 reorieutation of the (;('om.rn lt'ft in rlw I !l'i(),, 125. I ll"ot' "husine'' mg.mit
·""I<
79
t:ronomir Govi'numce
IMI J'ATIOI\ AND POLITICS: Rt.llF.SIGXING MODFRN GERMAN)
diate terms these effort'> were less effective than was their intt•rvcntion with lah01. Business organizations showed a striking degree of personnel. organiltltional, and policv continuity, and the lack of transnational actors on the busine-.s side comparable to labor's AFL and CIO clt-arly H' sultt•d in less sustained Allied reform cfforts. 12" Moreover, Allied plans for husint·ss organizations in\'Ol\'ed a complicated, multifaceted shift of COillfWtencies-a shift that bro\...e down in its first step and never recovered momentum. In the Ionge• term. howner. the fragmented reform efforts had some -.ignificant efft·cts on tlw organization of German capital, and the change., that endured w<·re. again, those for which German supporters could he locatcd. Unli\...e labor. the leaders of German capital wt·re not see\...ing major institutional discontinuities in their traditional models of self organitation and influence on public policy. Rather than comprehensive!} describing Allied policy toward German business, therefore, I focus here on those policies that did include reference to American or British capitalism. As D. F. MacDonald of the British National Association of Port Employees wrote in his 1949 review of Allied policies toward business organizations, "The Allied authorities in Germany have been more or less inOucnced by the experienc<~s and the pol127 itics of their own countries, although large differences were still possible." Three Allied efforts were the promotion of "occupational freedom," a human resources approach to firm management, and anti-cartel policies. In the first case the Allies understood the victims of business autocracy to have been potenti.ll market entrants; in the second case, the trade unions, which had not been accepted a'> legitimate bargaining partners; and in the third case. constuners. The Allies' efforts to change business practict·s followed the same basi< logic as their dealings with labor: restrict private organiLational inmads into politics. and encourage private deahnaking though collective bargaining. In the \\'t>ima1 period there had been three main fonns of business organilations. all significantly distinct from their Alnei~ican and British counterparts. First, business and sectoral associations, later headed at the peak level b~ the Bundesverband der deutschen Indusu·ie (Bell). mainly represented 1 tlw intnests of industrial employers in economic poliq1na\...ing. "" Second, employer associations, headed at the highest level by the Bundesvereinigung der cleutschen Arbeitgeberverbande (BdA). primarily engaged in collecuvc bargaining with unions. Although American employers' organilatio~s were important in !lectors like aircraft production, where their main funcuon was to lobby the government to continue purchasing planes, they pnformed sub· I !16. R ·c , 1ltha1 1he '\.\~1 became imohed onil iu the e.u I} 19!'>1h. F..u lit•t. tlw hau on tw"· in 1 1 1nlllll'lll in Ct•t nMill h1 t\Jllt'tte< hLmcl:· 0\H .t iS \ 'l'iting Ex [X rt
'>t•t it·' 1\ (.\ugu'l I '14!1 ) . :\. 12!\. llw pt·ak ·'""t"i.uion, Bell, ha.s onil indu\lt 1 -b.t..ecl nwmbt•t ·''"" ,,,uon,.
80
stantiallv fewer functions than their Ge1 man counterparts. Most important, wages in the United Stat<'s were gt·nerally negotiated between unions and indi,irlual firms. not betwet·n unions and emplover a<;sociations. ~' Third, chambers of commerce and indmu' were. unli\...e those in the United States, organizations '~ith mandatory membership for all firms. Further, the chambers-in conjunction with somt• hu'>ine'>'> associations-had control over who qualified to open a bus1ne,s. Tlwse German busines<, organi1.Hiom. which all sought reestablishment in the immediate postwa• period. appeared not only unfamiliar but also tllreatening to the occupation powers.• ., The\ '>eemed to prO\ide a basis for protectionist cartels eH·n during p<.•acetime and were \\idely supposed to have been the financial pO\H'I behind the ri~e of Hitler. 1.11 As Volker Berghahn has shown. the American conception of cartels sprang not from finn size aloneindeed. many American cmporations were larger than their German competitors-but from an ideology of competition explicitly challenged by the di"ision of markets practiced by German cartels since the mid-1920s. u~ In wartime the alliance between carlclized domestic industry and expansionist foreign policy had seemed eminently clear in the plunder and usc of slave labor that followed Nazi conquest in both Western and Eastern Europe. Alongside this Allied skepticism, the German ordo-liberal tradition or socalled Freiburg School also advocated reducing the power of organized business in Germany. 1 '1'1 In the context of British and American inOuences, ordoliberalism had two important feature'>. Although its influence on policy was modest in the early period of militar~ occupation, its grov.ing inOuencc, especially in the person of Ludwig Fd1ard, made many American proposals seem somewhat less foreign. \101 eove1, the reform initiatives pushed by German liberals often satisfied occupation authorities' demands for changes in German structures and practices. The ,\llie!> leaned most hea,ilv on functional equivalent transfer initiati\'es in those ca<;es where German ~ctors took no reform initiatives of their own. Thus, Allied Oexibility was not limited to 1
129. 01er 1lw c 011"t· ol Ilw P'""'·u p<·11od ,\nwllt .tn collec:li11.· bargaining did indeed lw· come intt e.t'>ingh n·ntt.tlited UO .. In tlw '\ati pt·llod. (.nm.tn empln~t•t ''"ou.ttion' lor tollenive bargaining had been forc:eclmto tlw D.\1-: the h11,itw" i;Hton' .11HI thamht·" ol commerce had been imegto~ted '?to lh<' Hl'lrhlwlllllltn/IIVIInn. llt-nt 1 \,Jth, ltllllt't. (;,., 1111111 Htg Bu1ule;1 artd the UiiP of Hllln (:-.e" \?rk: Oxford l'niH•t sil\· Pn·"· 19H:\) . St'<'. 11101 t• ge11t't,tllv. Waller Simon. Marht und HPTntlutjt dn llllntu'hllll'llWYI>iimli' (( :ologne: l'.th I Rttgen,1eiu. I ()iii): 1111-(o ·1ot now, "Die cleubchen l'ntl.'rneh merverbfmcle. 1\l·l.">-~>0: Konli1111i1;il oclt•J Di>J..outiuuitiit?" in tllrge5rhichte der lJurtdPir!'fmhlik Deut1ch/rwd, ed.Jmef Bee J..eo et al. (~lunith: \\.'ilhdm Fink, 1~179). 131. On Amet ic.ltt 1ie\\s of Cetm.tn politit' in 1lw l!l:~Os and 1910s, ~ce ~1erritt, Dnnonary fin /Josffi. 2:1-41\. 132.. \ ·olker BNghahn. lht \mntlltlttUtlwn of Hi·11 c;,,rman lndullt), /945-1973 (Cambridge·: f.amb~tdg<' llnive"il) Pte", IIIHh) . . 133, On otdo-lihc·t.tli"ll· ,,.., Ft 111 llol11,,111h, 011lntwgdn \t/rt;rhajt clurrh Hl>ttW!t•n-b: t ;nt!l'ult· lungda ldrm derhn/mr/!,•7 \rlwl' ( Ftt•ihucg: R. ll.tuk. l~ll\">) ; Rateen Sallv. Cla.Hicall.rbfcralinn am/ lntl'rllnltonal r.rmwmtc Ol!ln ( I ,UtHlon: Routkclgt•, I ~l
•'""I
81
IMITArJON ANI>
Pouncs:
iL~
own institutional initjatives, and even where ordo liberal reforms were novel. the Allies tended to accept them and to bad. them. The functional equivalent of American p•·anices would have been to weaken the role of employer associatiom in collenive bargaining, end the dualism of cmplover and business organizations, and push chamber'> of comnw•n· toward stricth· private and voluntarv organitation. British and American \1{~-. both sought to do these things. The Alhes tried to end the business organitations' influence over occupational freedom and to promote competltton among "free organizations~ for member firms, ratht•t than allowing the organitations to di,ide up member firms ( just .ts the member firms divided ap markets). In the most important statement of thest· dlorts, U.S. MG Rt·gulation 13-120. the principles of functional equi,alenn.· were evident. According to the "basic views underlying MGR 13-120," OM GUS personnel, hoped to prevent business organizations from having public law status, t•xercising "governmental powers," or prohibiting new entrants into their occupation. 1:11 Y(·t a gulf remained between the dominant American and German conceptions of the legitimate functions of business organizations. For example, within eighteen months OMGUS had decreed that the German states must liberalit.e their licensing laws, which required that "persons desiring to open new businesses or to enlarge existing businesses l must) <·stablish the 'economic need' for their proposal, as well as their 'personal reliability,' and to prove that they owned 'sufficient' capital, and other similar requiremen ts."•~-. As with labor o rganiLations, the clearest statements of what I have called functional equivalence principles came in response to wo1 risome developments on the ground. Here too the Allies used institutional u·ansfer defeno;iveh more than proactively. What dc,·elopments in post,,ar Germany had given cause for such concern? Although the Allied authorities in the fi rst month'> of tlw occupation were warv of German industrialists, they did allow a fairh rapid reconstitutio n of local business associations in indi\idual economic branches. 1" At the end of tlw war these associations. the so-called Organisationen de• gewerblichen Wi1 L.,chaft (OGW), were initially banned by the Americans and the French. The British, noting that they had not been deemed Nati organiLations by Control Council Law 2, allowed them to remain, and this position was later accepted by the other two powers, provided that mandatory membership
I :ll. F01 ,, tho1 ough. and still cautiously optimi-;tic. rede'' ofhm' tht'\t' 1 <'MI inio ns were hold· ing up in l~av;u-ia, \t'l'john Holt memo to OMCLIS Fcotwmk' Di1i,ion. Sc·ptt·mbt•t I!J.I7, OM( :t S l'.tpe• ' · 13,1\;H ia, Fconomic> Division. ad min . Sec, hm. I , foldet :!. I :1 7:;.:1. RC 260. "'ation.d \rc hiw,. I Y1. ( h.ulc·\.fe iT\ repott. ()MGt'S Papers. hox 9. folckr K, 11 ·2· 1 Tlw hrghlv ,,II( ,t\Lit quota· twn 111.11 k' .tn• m the 01 iginal. l:l6. Kl.tU\ Dit•tc-r Henke. /)i, am.erikmu(r/1' Rr\ll!rt11!f /)nll\thlwu/, ( \1unidl: Oldenbourg. l'l% ) 197 'i07.
82
Economic Govemance
Rt.:nt:SI(;NIM. MoDI.Rl\ GutMAN\
Table 4. B;~,·arian finn' organitt•d in hu\lllC\s
Sector
Total fi1m' 111 ,,.,tor
:-\umber of member firms
J>e1 centagt• organi7ed
Machi nen
:l:IO
300
R6
Optic' fi ne mec hani"
[1(10
147 (full members) 200 ("cooperating")
69 "\inuall~
~fet."ll n~<mufacturing
Chem1c.rh Retail '·'"'' Whok,.tl<'
Ceram"'
29
150-:\0{)
423
90
2:10,00()
77,000
33
:'\,000
2.150
all "
43
"nearly I 00?( " 90
Textilt''
Soura: .John Ilolt, mt'mo to OM<:t S Economics Oilision, September 1947, OMGUS Paper11, box 1. folcl<'r 2, 5, RG 2()0, National Archives: author's calculations.
ended and all public functions ccascd.u7 Then, on October 30, 1945, the British officially allowed business associations (Fachverbiinde) to form; U.S. authorization came a month later, on November 30, 1945. These organizations could not make membership compulsory, were limited to one branch only, and had to list their functionaries for cross-checking with denazification processes. Given the steps the Allies took to promote democratization inside the trade unions. demvification of personnel within the associations was minimal. n" Besides Nazi tics, a second concern had to do with the concentration of market and political power. A ke\ Allied objective was to restrict the size and scope of the associations. above all forbidding them market regulation functions. But 0~1GUS also \Ctoed multisectoral associations to avoid "too g reat a concenu-ation of economic power which might easily dominate the very inexperienced and weak governmental authorities." 1 ~9 The Americans did eventualh allow ~ome multisectoral associations to form but forbade any organization above the Umd kvel. 1111 Here. however, the industrial importance of the British zone came to the fore: the British MG allowed associations to fonn more quickly there, to be multisectoral, and to exist not just at Land but at zone level. 111 Yet as Table 4 demonstrates, by the fall of 1947 business asso-
I:n. Sinn· the new assoriatiow. wen· dt•t·nwd to bc.• "functional descendants" but nottlw legal dc-sn·nrlants of th(• 0(;\\, it took until l!l:l6 to transfer OGW property LO the busines' ;w.od· ations; st·e Tornow, "Die dt•ul\dwn llnlt'l nt>hlllt:l vt•rbiinde: 238. 13K. fk1ghahn . .1nwnrmu:ation. ·IK ·51. 13\1. Otto Brodniv nwmo to Bip;lltitt· Contml Ollicc-, December 16. 1947, OMC:US Paper\, box 7. folder :1. 11-I -:t 140. I hi' changed onl1 with tht• Fl'IJiu.u 1 IH..JX deci,ion Lo allow Lhe new Ge1 man Economic Council to au1h01 i~t• h1101l.tl .t,'><>t ••uion,, 141. M.~eDon.tld . " \dwllgt•lx·"c.·rhandt·." ''· 11-13.
83
I Mil A !'ION ANI> P01 IIICS: REDESIGN I!\(; ~1001-.RN (;~.RMAN\'
ciations in the U.S. zone were making rapid headwav in organil'ing member fi1ms. Emplovn associations were initially even more restricted. and because of the limits that wage controls put on collective bargaining. tlwi1 policv function~ wc·n· carried out bv the business associations. ~ I n tlw Bnt"h /one a few c·mplm ers had 1ccci\'cd tacit ~1G approval to res tan emplme1 associations in 1945, and mam were multi-industry (as most union organil'.lliom still were at that time). The Briti~h then formally allowed single-st·oor bu-.ineo;s associ:uiom but d1s.1llowed multisector business and all emplmt'l .1"otiations. The employe• association leaders. however. argued that fusing business (lobbving) and employer (collective bargaining) assodations would replicate N~i p1 actice. Additionally. some union leaders sought a partnc1 in industry ";th whom collective bargaining could take place on social issue!> beyond wages, i.'lsue:. for which the unions had to depend on firm-level agr<"emenLs. Since the unions had very uneven strength in individual firms, and especially since the strongest firm-level organizations were Communist, moderate union leaders hoped to reestablish bargaining at a higher level. On May 5, 1947, therefore, the British Manpower Division finally agreed to allow employer organit.ations. One month later, metal employers in the British tone founded working groups of all metal employer associations in order to remove them fmm llw control of the business associations. 111 OMCUS olllcials followed these developments with some concern and won ied openly that multi-industry organizations would re!>tore "the old employe• associations which we understood we intended. at least fmthe present, to prohibit.~ 144 The obvious concern was that such a rrntmbud organil'ation could exercise undue influence on indttslrJ-level wage bargaining, which OM(,L S was promoting. When the Americans finalh followed the British lc·ad and .11lowed e m ployer associations to form in October 1917. the) still den 1ed pet mission for a bizonal peak association of all employet a1>Sociations.••s But in Februaq 1949, with collective bargaining once again in the hands of Germans, \\'alter Ra)1nond. the head of the Central S<.•cretariat of the Emplove• Associations, met \\;th the two military governor!. to negotiate permis!>ion for a peak association. Clay and Robertson informed him that if such an organitation was formed, they would change the law to allow iLo; continuance. It was, and they did. 1~" The final plank of the star-crossed Allied elTon to roll back what they saw
I 1!!. f\unow. "Die cleutschen Untcrnchmcr\'(:rl>iiude,"' 2·1:l. 11:1. l .uit\\inu \IaHmann, /OOfahrt r.ewmtmetall (Cologne: lkul\thet ltNiiiii,·Vt·dag. 1990). 2:2·11-12. 111. \. Ktamt•t memo to Manpower Oi\'i,ion, Septembt•r 1.'\, I!I 17. OMCliS l'.tpt•t.,, box 7, loldet 1:\a, I 1-1-:t I D. St·t• llauuaman Report, :'>oo\'ember 28, 1!1-17. 0-\tGl S Papt•t '· ho' 7. loldt•t ~~. 11-J-3. I IIi. D.l. \It Cut< ht·on .md Waltct ;\lathct 1 t·pmt to 1\ipattit<' 1\o;ud. \t,u
84
Economic Governance
as the business community\ appmpriation of public functions had to do with chambers of commerce and inclustr\. This was a purely American campaign. o MGCS sought unsuccessfullv to u·ansform chambers into quasi-American organizations with voluntary membership. no control oYer market entry. and 0 0 public functions in. for exampl<·. distributing scarce raw materials and labor: chambers could then haYe perf(mned a number of the functions prnioush carried out b\ the cmplo\el o rganitations that the Americans hoped to prohibit.'" Chief among these functiom would haYe been negotiation \\;th trade unions on local issues of economic importance. It was on this basis that O~tGl'S allowed chambers to reopen immediately after the war. In the last months of the war German industrialists in manv cities had built infonnal circles to coordinate transpon and cnerg). and beginning in june 1945 some of these "commissions of industry" functioned as protochambers. with American approval. In other places the old Gauwirtschajtskamrnern were denazified at the very top and then used as a liaison to the business community. 11K Not until the fall of 1945 did the U.S. authorities move to reorganize the chambers. Their plan, however, besides running into fierce resistance from the chambers themselves, ultimately disintegrated under the ambitions of the unions to transform the chambers into corporate, bipartite bodies of economic democracy.'''' Against this backdrop OMGUS moved toward allowing the old employer associations to return as '\.,orking groups for social right~... and it was these organizatiom that began to reestablish collective bargaining functions. With this step and the earlier decision to allow the business associations to reconstitute, the road was clear to restore the traditional forms and functions of German employer o rgani1ations.1.•• Although efforts at fundamental reform of the business organil'ations quick!\ went awr). the Allies did develop a 1·ange of other policies to balance capital's power and thus tf) to reduce economic autocracy. Three mechanisms stand out. First, as noted above. labor unions were encouraged to concentrate their energies on collective bargaining and to build capacitY to mobilize their member'> in !>uppmt of narrowly economic goals. As the occupation went on. the MGs not onl} allowed strikes but, in some U.S. cases. actuall} encouraged them if thC} were the onlv way to deliver better benefits to
147.. \good gl'nt·til'tltt'lm l't owt•, "1m Slllntllclltttun: Die Jnclustric- und ll.lndclskanrnwru in den 1\'at ltt..r it·g.-j.tht t·n. I!ll!'i-191\1." 'lnlldmft fiil l 'ntPTnehmeTHf!!'ldtirhte B5:\ (1987): 91- 122. 14H. llt'nke, Oit• amn ikanivlu• lil'\t/~11/IK /)r/1/\1 h/mu/1, l!l7-!'i09. 149. Sec Walter :\1itltlh;u"en. lft'\\1'11, /91~ /9~0 (Frankfurt: lnscl-\'erlag, 1985), 205-17. , lfiO. The hillt'l fight O\'t't thamht·" ol nu11mnn· and indusuv ('ontinued until. in 195fi, tlw German go\'ernm<"nt tf',cinflt-cllllt' ,\11H't it.llt mandatt·d tt'"riclion\ on chamber fttn('tion., in order to homogeuitt• FR(. tt·gulatiom. I bt• 1\tili'h had nner Uit'd to cnfor('e similar change,, and the Frend1 occupation. ''"h 'imrl,u 'l t tt< Hilt'' in Ft.Hl
85
IMIIAIION AND POIIIICS: REDESIGNII"G MODERN G~RMAN\
wmkers.•·o~ Second, the Allies tightly restricted levels of Ge1man industria} output. Di~putes about precise "level of industry" allowances cv(."ntually came ~o occupy a central place in their broader discussion of the role of Germany Ill the 1-. uropean recovery, but from the beginning of tht· oc(llpation, controls al.,o .,encd as a check on the organized power of employer organizations. ' w Third. the Allies, especially the Americans, made a concerted effort to mo'e the Germans toward a laissez-faire competition policy that emphasit(."d tough antiu·ustlegislation. In short, the Allies did not dismantle the traditional dualist structure of employer organit:atiom but d1d rely on unions. output restnctions, and decartelization to help modif) tlH~ influence of employers. To be sure, the hope of using antitrust provisions to ban cartels and promote an American view of competition policy was only partially realized. Challenging the highly cartelized and often monopolistic structure of German industry, an important plank of Allied policy, was enshrined inJ CS 1067. Yet as in the struggle over unions, the Allies confronted a range of reactions to their proposals. The Americans sought to prohibit the reintroduction of the traditional "abuse clause" system, favored by cartel suppor ters, under which cartels were legal in principle, and only certain extreme practices were outlawed; they preferred a ban on cartels with, if necessary, a few exemptio ns. Thus, instead of making cartels generally legal with some exceptions, the Allies sought to make them generally illegal with some exceptions. Berghahn's study leaves no dou bt that the occupation's antitrust policy was d riven by reference to American laws and traditions and that the gulf between this policy aim and the wishes of the majority of German industrialists was very large indeed. m But efforts to achieve American-style antitrust law were not made in ignorance of the German economy. Centered in the justice and State Departments, the designers of the deconcentration program for Germany did not ignore German cartel law but "discarded it as inappropriate to deal with the concentration established under H itler."' "'' Most postwar German industrialists were intent upon reestablishing some form of traditional cartel arrangements. The peak business association, the Bdl , was dominated by heavy industrialists in the Ruhr, who had at least traditionally been strong supporters of cartelization, plus a number of small-firm-dominated industries that also depended on cartels to stabilize their market'>.
l!il. D.ulmann, f{p . f)utribution ofPown-, 329. I !i2. Till' Ur iti>h MC g('ll<:rally opposed tight limit~ on indu~ll ial pmduttion a~ it was the o nly w.ty it' tont• wuld pay for food impons; see Mar;hall, Orifin>, 19H-!1!1. Clay wo lx·came an aJ • de111 opporwnt of ~lJ ict coni! ols. I :i:l. St't' Ber ghahn, ,tmrnranhation, 178 ff. 1!'>1. Cr aham T.tvlor, "The Ri\e and Fall of AntiLrust in O ccupied ( ;t·rmany, 1!1·15 4ll: Prrr '"J.."'II' II ( 1<17\1): 2!1; Ht•nigcl ("lnd~lrial Organi7ation," 495 -96) ltil\ shown 1h.111lw American> Wt'll' in f.u 1 rg11m.urt of llw dt>pt>ndence of ~mall finn.; 011 c;utelo,.
86
i':ronomic Governanct
.As the OMGUS Economics Division recognit:ed, however, not all Germans were hostile to Am<'rican concepts of production .•·,; Parts of German industrY had flirted \\ith internauonalitation and mass production in the 1920s, when firms such as Bosch, IG Fa1 bc·n. and Siemens had used export markets tO increase economies of scale in production.' •• Hoping to build on these interests. American policy aimed at encouraging the coming national government ro continue the occupation\ competition policies and to institutionalize in Ia\\ its strong antitrust provisions. In so doing. OMGt;S and, after 1949, the C.S. High Commission found supporters both in the German state and in ci,il society: Lud"ig Erhard rderred to the antitrust bill introduced by Adenauer's go\'ernment as a kst·c·dling" (Pjliim:srhen) from America. and Berghahn's biograph} of Otto Friedrich show'> how the industrialist used his position in the Bdl presidium to win hardliners O\'er gradually to grudging acceptance of the principle of a cartel ban. m In addition, the employers' colleetjve bargaining borly. the BdA. came under the influence of exportoriented producers such as IIans Bilstein, an auto-parts supplier and the longtime head of Gesamtmetall, BdA's largest member association. Bilstein and a number of others had traditionally been both more accepting of labor unions and less dependent upon cartels to stabilize their markets than most German firms. In loose coalition with G<'nnan liberals such as Erhard and with the support of key factions imide the BdA. the Economics Division and later the High Commission exerted ~t<'ady pressure on the Bdl to accept a legislative program restricting the usc of cartels. Threatening (though never imposing) their own legislative soluuon, ll.S. occupation officials expended substantial effort to bring about such kgislation under the Adenauer government. The Bdl. however. resisted Erhard\ antitrust pmposals and stalled until 1957. when the Bundestag finalh pas,cd a ban on cartels-albeit one watered dO\m with significant exempuons. 1.~ Altl10ugh Gennan industt ~ blocked the transfer of the extremely restrictive American antitrust practices. 11 is equally important to note that the oligopolistic competition of tlw postwar years bore little resemblance to the tightly organiLed private monopoli(."s of the early twentieth century. Once again. a functional principle-this time the principle of a ban on cartels"'-as \\ielded by the Alli<'s in a resu ictive and reactive fashion and drawn upon by German support<'rs to make significant changes in the institutions 15Z">. In ge11eral, the OMCl-~ FtorwrHi<' I>i1isio11 '"'' 1gh.1h11, \mnlllllll!tllltlll, 22 2:1, '\Jola11. ~hwm of ,\lodnlllt\. l:i7. \'olke1 lkrgh.thn. Otto,\ , 1-!m/wh l.lnfmlttllfim ('11/t'tiU'hmn (Fr,mk fun: Campus. 199:1). 15H. lkrgh.thn. , \mnlU/IIIU/lrrm , I iO- i:l.
87
Economic CovernmiCI' IMI IAIIO'< AND POLITICS: REDESIGN 1M.
MotH.RN
GhRMAN\'
of German economic regulations. And as in the case ol unions, the outcom .I . I e "return to Weimar" nor a reproduction of Americane was ne1t1er a sunp structure'>. ~otwiths~ndi.ng the tension arising from U.S. dlortl> to promote stron .muu ust ieg•slauon, America's "cooperative "labOJ-man.tgement relations ll a~ted the at~entio~ ~f many German indusu ialists. Agaimt the backdrop of theu cou_ntq s u·ad1~onal authoritarian practices, mam German managers beca~ne ulle~ested 111 the "socially respomible m.Ul.tge•" associated \\ith ~ord1st U.S. firms. ··'~ Exposed to "Training within Indusuv" course~ offered 111 ~he U.S. wne and a flood of articles in Der Arbritgeber-the oflicial publicauon ol the BdA-advocating the diffusion of U.S. management methods. ~ctA mem_bers came to frame the debate about indmtrial relations institutiOns not 111 the Bdl's terms of "capitalism ver1>U'> socialism" but in terms f " . )' 0 soCia ISm versus community."'W At the same time, German managers were the targets of a larger American cf:ort to export the politics of productivity. As C IO treasurer J ames Care. sa1d: }
a~
The icka_ of ~imul taneously increasing production and the capacity of the <·ommu~lity to consume is the most typical American product we have to expo• t.. It Is, to my way of thinking. the best answer Democraq has to the Communist charge that conflict and collapse arc the inevitable products of our type of economic society. Communism is fighting Dcmocran not onlv with guns but with ideas _as well. \\'e have found in our American (•xperi(·nce the amw(·~ to Co~murusm. Our friends in Europe want to explore this idea and .1dapt 1t to their own environment. I do not belie\e we should fail them even though ~orne timid souls may call it ~interlcrence."'"' _ German businessmen's study ,;sits to the L'nited States, sponsored b} the European Reconstruction Program, often focused on inclmtrial relations ~~ a~tice~. ~ the. G~rman Marshall Plan ministry noted a.ftei the initial uips: fh1s relationship IS founded on the common goal of inncascd productivity. Hoth partners start with the recognition that every increase in producti\'ity b~ne~ts the e~ploy~es as well as the management; such an increase brings With It lower pnces Simultaneously with higher production and wages, a rise ~onnccted to the shorter production time. In scicntilic and practical research mto all problems connected with the concept of productivity, as the German l[>~l .. Th•oughc~ttl the immediate postwa1 period, m"'' ind"'" i.tl diJ<·s lt'manwd quilt' .nH IHllll.llJ.lll; I 11'111/ Ha1tmann, ,\uthoril) ami OtKflllltfllion , (;,.,"""' ,\lmllll(l'mrnt (Princt'ton: 1'1 int t'lOll Unive• sitv p, ('\\. 1959). ltiO. lk'11;hahn. \mnlfam::(l/ion, 2·17-49. Tht"· the hll,illt'" '")1;•"1il.llion th.ll OMGUS tllcd h.u dnt 10 ll'PH'" ht'< .trll<.: the mo>t imponant conduit lw "hlllll0111 1d.niom" appro.1ches to an.•rlttH:c.·nlt'lll.
specialists were able to dcteiminc, the L'S has made considerable advances especially in ren'I?t yca•:s." "'' ,\llicd press~1res at the in~titution~llcvel gai~ed credibilit) each umc (,cnnan actors actively pulled 111 Amencan pracuces from the private sphc1 c. At the f'i• m le\el. a growing body of historical research document<; these trench. Fm example, the synthetic fiber producer \'ereini~H.' Glan/stoll su atcgically imitated Dupont's technologv. pricing rructun·. marketing prog• am. ,md C\ en some of its factory decor."~ 5 )ton· coopl·rati\e managl·ment practices reinforced accommodationist shifts within tlw \ab01 mon·ment. \\'ith the growing marginalization of Communist'>. mam German Commum~t Parn (KPD) members left the unions and st.tn·d on!\ in the \\orks councils. gi,ing the unions more maneuYering room ,is-a-\i'> moderate manager,. The rclatiYe weight of the American production model in this g• adual e\olution. however. has not been prcciscl) specified. Alongside the emerging hegemony of the American production model were indigenous German traditions of mass production, and a judgment about the relative influence of these two sources awaits further empirical analysis. 11" Nevertheless, Uerghahn's demonstration that a "generational change" inside the German employer associations led to a much less contentious form of industrial relations suggests that the American model was a constant point of reference for the moclcrni.dng faction. There is little rcason to lx·lievc that the resurgent influence of older German traditions would have evoln·cl over time in this fashion; the continued success of the Fordist production model throughout this period seems more likely to have captured German interest. But that this tr~jcctory was dependent upon actively sustaining transnational links m the business community is suggested by the comparison to labm. where the networks built in the 1940s and 1950s declined significant!) dming the 1960s. In sum. nat rowing industn.tl relations issues to economic ones helped change till' calculations of a -.ubst.llltial group of employers as to the possibilil) of accepting unions a-. equal partners in shaping the economy. Even though the concencd .\mnican attempt to gain strong antitrust legislation in Germany was umucn·sslul. the more diffuse effect of the American prolfi2. Quote·cl in ihid .. ~I I he• lull 'to' 1 ol tht• dktt' olthe'e mi\sion' renMin' to bt• "' ittt·n. .\> Luc 1\olt.m,ki h,l, ,,ud ol '"nll tl ,ln,lt•Jril1)1; matnial technolnt," -: \!'l' 1\oltan,ki, "\'iSlOil\ ol \me• it h.u1d. Kui"·l (.\1'11111111/.r till' i'll'llth, H·1-89) implies that "mat<'rialt('chnolog) .. hl'ld )(' ·;11 i tc·• ,.,, to1 tla· J.'Jt'lH h, "itms all(! that 01ganitational innovatioll' temk
11
ch,indk i11 i">l.llion onu· hi0-.'' 111 //11 \nu· 11 , 11 tlllllfmll of htwJnon /htlillrH. ed. Matthias Kipping and 01t' Bjarn.ll cl.eu1don· ~outlc-cl~c·, 1!1'1~ 1. -;n ,11"' \. Wl'llhilll<'l. \\'irllclwf!<wwtdn. \\rllmmkl, \lol diulont. 199fi). 164. hu til<', .. d mch''" ' · ·' hq~lllllll1).\ "I""' ult-d h1 llt•Jrigl'l ..._\merican On np.uion "
1(j 1. Quott•d in Link. DruHrM und aml'rikmll\1111' (;rl<¥111\rllllj/l'n, H:l.
89 88
IMr rATION AND Pourrcs: R~.OJ<.SIGXI:-1<; MOIH.RI\ (;r.RMANY
dunion model had a lasting effect on the balance of power within the associ. ations. The case for institutional transfer as an analvtical device is less strong ht·n· than in the case of labor organitations. be<.:au~e the otw trulv "constitutiw" dl(nt-toward chambers of commen: e-wa~ ultimateh n:jectcd by the Cnmam after the occupation ended. Yet in the form of "n·strirtion," the concept helps clat;f)· the relatiYe weight of external and mtnnal forces in re. mganiting the interest representation of capital in orcupicd ( .ermany.
C0:-.1( I.U~JOJ\: MODELS 1:-J AN ESTABLISIU 0 SY'> It \1
Rather than a technique used by technocratic cines to nuke narro1\ ting social actors (such as those advocating industrial unionism or the business organizations most open to productivity partnerships with unions) and that the means to achieve those ends be subject to negotiation with those partners. The Allies were in a high-stakes, low-expertise situation. They were depencknt upon German elites not just for local knowledge but abo len the maint<·nance of their changes after the occupation ended. v\'lwrc the stakes were highest-namely. in questions offoreign and militan powt·r-the Allies simph retained all formal authorit). 1ti·· But in \irtuallv all other pol in areas the} \ought to return control to the Germans. The pren·qui.,ite for this step '>et.·med the establishment of a solid foundation for further democratic dc\'clopment. The cases in this chapter show the Allie\ mmg a functional equi\',\lcnt approach to help shift the balance of power withm existing groups of labor and capital, to the benefit of those Germam who-.e imtitutional visiom wcr c most compatible \\ith the Allies' own. Their mca~ured pace and their re~i,tance to restarting the German economy immediatcl~ g.1ve them leverage over t•conomic actors and provided a framework lor a dialectical approach r atht•t than a purely didactic one. In the face of an organized civil societ}'. flexibility was crucial; indeed, in those areas of industrial relations where the Allies tried to force specific organitational forms (as opposed to broader functions) on the Germans, their work was undone after they left, as in the chambers of commerce case. This
I fi.-•. 11w la't of it""' Jt'llll ned 10 Gc11nauy onh dlntn~o: thl· "~ + t t.tll.'" (.uuong the two Gcrfmn \llit'CI pm,er,) of 1990.
111.111 ,1.11<"' .111cl
90
Economic CvvemanCP
finding leads to a paradox about the politics of transfer: any indigenous acr strong enough to support a foreign design is also strong enough to try to to All' c urn that design to 1ts own purposes. 1e res were not averse to usmg .orce, ~oweV<:'r. To the conuan. their functional equivalent approach was prediated on the strategic usc of ((nee to transform minority German traditions ~nto majonl:\ one-;. As l .S. ~tan power's Leo Werts wrote to the CIO's James Care'· O~IGCS "anted "tlw German trade unions to have freedom of deci,jon : .. [but] this docs not mean that we will not attempt to create conditions which will influence them to ,·oluntarih choose affiliations which will, in our judgment. contribute to tlw building of a force for peace and democracv." 11"' Believing that democratic f(>ICl'S in Germany were weak and that authoritarian one.,-whether fascist remnant<; or Communist vanguards-were strong, the ~f( ~~ used con u·ols to force a dialogue with leaders of German capital and labor and to structure German "choices." A creative synthesis arose from the interplay of the Allies' efforts to replicate the rough structures of liberal capitalism and the Germans' more corporatist traditions. The institutions that resulted, though certainly not mirroring the American or British industrial relations systems, were shaped in crucial ways by those models. The restrictions imposed by the Allies on German unionists' plans for economic democracy helped change the system of economic regulation. The ccn tral features of the postwar system were private collective bargaining with employers instead of novel forms of economic democracv. and decentralized industrial unionism instead of the centralited union mo\'ement (like those• consolidated in Scandina\ia and Austria during this same period) which was emisioned b\ most German union leaders. Both the unions and the business and emplover associations complained bitterly that their own o rganitational progress was impeded because the occupation fixces faYored the interest'> of the other class. Each side was right about it~ own experience but wrong in its interpretation of Allied policy. In realil:\·. because the Americans and the British were committed to models of dece~tralited industrial relations. thev placed restrictions on both kinds of organizations. allowing them to retain some of their familiar organizational forms but channeling them toward functions that better matched AngloAmerican understandings of democracy and capitalism. These restrictions mauered because of the critical juncture at which they were applied. By the time a German state regained sovereignty in 1949, German capitalists had also regained much credibility. As a result, their willingness to expand labor's participation right~ in economic regulation quickly faded, while CDU hegemony in Bonn and, later, the "economic miracle" 0
.166. Quott·cl in F1dlll'l,
. ,,
flnn/WII!-,1'\IIUUht,
,
0
~~l-1 -~'). The i"uc was" hether or uol tht• Cenu.lll
uncon~ coulcl joiu tlw Cl< )., 11 ppmtt·d Wmlcl Feder .niou of F•ee Tracie l 'nions.
91
I MITATION AND
Pouncs:
RErH.SIGNINC MonFRN
CFI~MA "''
lwlped cement the basic contours of liberal economi< regulation. The nwnt. of real openness was over by the end of militan. occupation in 1 and mcre1:nen tal changes thereafter had to take pia((• against anchored 1n bo~h statute ~nd constitution. Such a "window of opportu argument as this emphasizes contingencv and elwin• more than do dependent arguments. The latter. more suucttu a! appro.teh ri~ks ing a myth of noninterference by implYing that Ge1 man actors built thc<>e 'titutiom independent of outside influence, a claim that doc-. not square the c\ickncc. Because mam institutions arc the resulb of long. 'low historical nr•"'r•••··-: the· technocratk or top-down efforts of outsidns to pmmotc · chle. let alone the outcome of an economic "miracle." Interestingly. the final rejection of the American dt·si~n fo~ the chambers of industry and commerce ocruned during the economic miracle, confirming that macroeconomic success could not automat ically legitimate existing institutions.ui? o~· course, in pointing to the incompleteness of other explanations, it crucml to note that the institutional transfer explanation is also incomple I fi7. Rec;tll th
IH'XI 1 h.tpl!' l
92
Economic Governance
the cases discussed arc useful examples of transfer, but the heuristic iL~elf' nnot account for all theit impmtant political dynamics. Transfer is always ~elv to be embedded in a bmader set of policies: strategies of institutional uansfer were often explicit or implicit ways of opcrationalizing prior policy hoices such as "democratitation." c To emphasize the utilit\ of tlw concept, however, several poin~ about uansfcr bear repeating. Fir..,t, although the functional equivalent approach ""J.' sometinws em isioned during wartime planning for the occupation, it was much more often a tool used bv the ~1Gs in reaction to developments in Gcrmam . As such. it was .m insuunwnt born of re\'ulsion as much as of vision. Second. diffen·nt Allied actm.., eire\\ on different conceptions of their "home .. institutions. Rt•c.tll that (;(·nnal Chn and the AFL each acth·eh in,oked the American model of inctusu ial relations vet in 1948 carne to opposite ,;ews on the issu(' of /.and hm~ on codctennination. This echoes the point about the oppmtunistic USl' of foreign evidence. but the deeper point is that the same instilllti<,n can han· wry different meanings to different actors. Chapter 5 shows how the sanw structures can have very different meanings in different regions. Third, although the functional <'quivalent approach provided a useful template through which the AFI. internationalists could negotiate the complexities of foreign industrial relations, no actors rel ied exclusively on this approach. Indeed, it is tempting to see functional equivalence as a compromise strate~ that was almost no aom \initial or dominant choice. The State and War Department forces that sought rapid reconstruction of German economic pown were often annoved by the time-consuming institutional meddling of the functional equivalent approach; those in the ~forgenthau camp who sought a harsh occupation canw much closer to the "anti-model" position idl·ntified with French polic\ in Chapter 2. Even the proponents of supporting tlw "good Germans" thought to look first to Germany's own democratic traditions rather tlun to emphasite ones that seemed to work for the l:nited States or Britain. Again, the e\idence in this chapter (and the next) shows that the functional equi\ alent approach was often a recourse and a compromise rather than a plan. Finally. the same functional princ iplc can have different effects in different political contexts. One reason indulltrial unionism so appealed to the Allies was that it promoted organi;ational decentralization. Yet in imperial and Weimar Cnmany, industrial unionism had been a powerful tool of centrafiza ticm. The Social Democratic union federation had generally tried to promote industrial <JVer craft unionism. and so reduced its number of affiliated unions from fifty-five in 1891 to thirty in 1931. 1"x The organizational principle that
168. \ti'•lkr~lt'llh< h. "I
t ' lll]liOil'' " ' ·"
:HH.
93
IMJIAIION ANI>
Pounc:s:
Rt:oESIGNJNt: Mon•.KN CLRMAN\
had led to centralization during Weimar could be used for derentrali.tatJon• ·l• after World War II because the German aspiration.\ for cenu-alitation grown so dramatically. 11i
I h'l. lll(ln·d, m.cm Gt:nn..cn trade union leader-. coruinm·d w .,..,. rndcl\llr.clunionl\m .cs a loc fl~<>molucg tt·nualit.ction. \IIH'e it diminared compt·riuon fm mc·mhc·r, "''ldt· finn, and h1.cnc hn
CHAPTER FOLR
Education after the War: Germans Confront "the One Best System" \\'hen· anything i~ growing. one fo1met
i~
worth a thousand re-formers.
-IIOKA< t MA~~.
as quoted by john Dewey
The U.S. authorities tried to transfer institutional designs inspired by American schools into postwar Germany. The German educated elite, American reformers believed, used schools to promote authoritarianism and perpetuate their own advantages. The proposed antidote was common schooling: ending the German trad.-bas<•d system or, at the very least, maximizing the years before separate academic and vocational tracks commenced; ending tuition and fees for pupils; and requiring all primar) and secondary teachers (not just those whos<· students made up the tin} cohort of the universitY-bound dite) to han· U111\<'rsit\ t1 ,tining. American efforts were ineffec tive. Of these goals, only tht· rcmc)\'al of tuition and fees was accomplished. Yet the Americans were flexibk .md an organued ci\il society clearl} existed. so why did no substantial rcf(mn take place? I argue that American strateg> negated the refornwrs' flexibilit~ and ultimately helped weaken the very reform u·adition in German education that they had come to encourage. Institutional transfer was not impossible in this rase, but achieving American aims would have required a fast start, a su·ong organization, and an effort both to engage u·aditional organized supporters of school reform and to \>\in new supporters. 1
I. The Briti,h began with 111.111\ 'iru11.11 oh1c·c 11\C'\ 111 thl·i1 /Oill'. but bv the heginning ol I\H7 thn had la1gel\ IC'tllllletl
94
95
IMITATION AND
Pouncs:
MonF<>T PRoPOSALs:
Ru>t:SIC.NING 1\foDFJ~N GFH\11\ 'I\
U.S. PL.. Nl':ING
FOR R~.FnucAIIO~
. In l~i.s i.nteni.ews ·with German _educators in th_e earlv 1960~. Robert La,, ~ d~!-t<mcrcd ~at most of them believed the Amencans had <min·d in Germ
\\~lt!l ext~ns1ve and ready-made reform plam. In [to. the oppo'>itc was tru~ L.S. .,ooet\ was es~ecially interested in the lin!..'> bet,,et'n -.dH>ols and de. mocr.tn: and A1:1encan~ generall} agreed that '>chool<; could strengthen de. moc:a_n s promtse and Its practice. Thinker<, such a'\ John Dewey had be exph:n: ~~ho~.ls had the responsibility to teach dcmoc 1.1n b\ ~teachi ng den.. ocrauc 11\:mg. In a heterogeneous society it was cnt, other than their own. OM(,~S C~l~Catlon officers translatcdJohn Dewq into German and distributed h1s wnllngs around the U.S. zonc."t \Vhat feat me~> of Gennan schools 50 co~~ccmed them? ·w hy did they think reading Dewey might help? I he thrce-r:ac ~ Germ~n. schools were and arc unusual in Europe in the ~~ eadth of thc1r d1rr:erenllat10n and in the duration of their u·acking. The outlines of German pnmary and secondary schools have remained remarkabh constant across the twentieth century, a lthough the names of the tracks have changed over time. For the postwar period I usc the then con temporary Ger· man terms Volksschulen, Mittelschulm, and Oymnasirn. The first, the "school of the p~oplc," had comprised since Weimar a four-year elementary phase for all clnldrcn and another four years for the great m~jority. Well over 80% Q( German youth who finished these eight years in the ~blk.Hdmle then left fuU t~me schooling; m~st ent_ered the dual system of vocational training (pan tune classes combmed with firm-based apprenticeship). and others joined t!le labor force as unskilled workers. The "higher schoob" began \\i.th grade inc: the Afllwlschulen generally for pupils oriented tm,md the professwns. and the (;''tflrltlSien for Uni\'erSil} preparation. I The ~v.is had not fundamentall} re~u-uctured this svstem, though someci th_c chang~s they did implement threatened the privikgcs of the traditional ehte.' The1r most important changes were the clof>ing of parochial schoo (Bekmntni~Jdwlen). a reduction in the number of humanistic Gymnasim (although not a reduction in their total number), and a shift of dccision-makiiC from parents to the state and from the localities to the central state. In aD these areas, Nazi rhetoric about equality and Party control of education Car t'xcccded actual alterations. But since the Nat.is had talkfd of changing Gee-
:! .. Roh<'ll I.). 105. · :t J.lllll'' len I, Mmion on the Rhine (Chicago: l niH' I ,;IV of (:hie a~o Pr ''"· 19H:!), 1). , . I \lt,·r. 1961. the elementarv ~choob were '>t'plk\\tlwil'n. flt~uptlfh hml~rhu/,•, ,tnd (,)TJIIICHtwn \H"re then adoptee!"' lh<' \land.ucl n,rnH'' lc>1 tlw thH'l" '>t'COil hr olll< h<''· ;,, I krIll ann S< hnorhach. Lehrn' urzd 'irhu/1' rmii"Tm llakrnk1111: ( ""II'J.:'Idn · \thl'naum. )\I Rolf hi<" I\, \ 'alw11alw:mloll\rlu• \rlwlpolitzk (Cologn<·: \\("\HI<'lll•( h("l \ ,., l.o~. I!Hd).
96
Education after the
ml1
education. <.·ducational cons<.'l vativ<.·s after 19!5 could claim to be simulrnaneouslv tearing d own Nan. .,uuctures an d restonng . tra d"1t1ona . I ones. L"k 1·e 1 '" ~\" other groups. the educational adminisu·ation and faculty painted ~l'mseh·e' as ,1.ctims of the Natis, despite O\erwhelming c\i.dencc of their ~road complicity in the rise ,mel rule of fasci,m. Indeed. the percentage of eachers with membership in the Pall\ 01 its organizations was higher than ~hal of am other occupational group except judges and police." '\otwithstanding widc'>pn·ad nitirism of Nazi schools. the United States tniuall) decided agam~t attempt'> to u an•le1 American-style educational in,titutions to Gcnm\11). 7 The ol1icial doctrine of the State Department and \\ar Department-which wen· jointlv responsible for planning occupation policies-was that Gcrrnans 1>hould be encouraged to refonn their own educational institutions. The occupation therefore concentrated only on the pragmatic problems of reopening schools in the fall of 1945, reflecting the more fundamental policy decision not to attempt a major school reform in Germany. The failure to act early to achieve m<~or changes resulted from a stalemate in policy-planning discussions between di!Tercnt ideas about how the Germans should be treated after the war. Advocates of harsh measures proposed either closing German schools and reducing German education to minimal Jc,·els or, in the softer vcr!-tion, conducting an elaborate reorganit.ation of the S\stem. The \arious Morgcnthau plans of 1944 said little about education except that it must be demvifit·d and that schools should not reopen immediately. Morgenth.m himself argued that no German should ha\'C "higher technical education~ and mused in \ugust 194-4 about ha\i.ng Allied personnel reeducate the childn·n of '\a.> is: "Do not Y<>ll think the thing to do is to take a leaf from Hitler\ book and completely remo\'C these children from their parents and make them "ards of the '>tate, and h;n c ex-US Army Officers. English Army Officers. and Rm~ian A.nm Officers run these schools. and ha\e these children learn tlw true 'pirit of democran?'"~ ReconstructioniM11, on the othct hand, proposed either denatiftcation alone or a "wait and st•<.•'" approach to allow the Germans maximal reform initiative. Most imponant. the Ccnnan Countn {;nit (GCU) of SHAEF in London produced a ch aft handbook 1'01 the occupation. John Taylor, an arm} captain who had done his doctoral work at Columbia Teachers College on Weimar youth groups and who had practical experience teaching in
f>UJii. Wolfram (.ram,, /o.mtlllllllltil 11t11l [)"lulllltlllllliit dl'l lidtltiiiJ(I/Julttllrlzm und piidaK"f~11t hl'll 1 "'~"" 11111 1\u/,.ntmullllllll·\/llm liddlln)..""'"'ll dl't /If{[) untl [)f)f? (f1ankfun: l'l'l<'r Lin~. I!Nu). 219. i. \h di,cu"ion of ,\lllt'l ic ,111 pl.ulllillg 101 lhl" oc, up.1tion lol)m,, Tt·nr\ cardul n ·con'tr '"!Jon rn hi~ .\li1111111 1111 tlw llhnw Quotl·d in llan' lo.o(llllll lh11n1 Scllllllt"fwnl im hl·,iq~tl"ll lkut,lhland: Dil" Hildun~' po1IIJJ.. cler ollllt'ril.,lnl" lwn \lihl.ll 11"1.;1<'1 IIIIJ.: 11.1< h ckm /\\t"rl<"ll \\'dtkl iq( (Ph.D. di"·· l l ni\('1 · ()f \hmic h. 1!li2). 22.
97
lMI rATION AND Pouncs: REDESIGNING MonFR'II GFR\1A'IIY
Berlin, headed the GCU's education staff of ten.'' Isolated in London fro11 the many policv fights within Roosevelt's administration, tlwv produced recomuuctioni't proposal that Morgenthau promptlv attad.ed for its 1 niency towm d the Germans. GCC called for a rapid reopening of 'chooh \\i~ little <·hange in structure. Its plan gave, in james Tent\ wmds. "mruomma initi.ttive to the Getmans in all phases of reform. including demvificati~ and. at a later date, the activities associated with 'tructural and curncu)ar n.·form." 111 \'\'hen FDR vetoed the general plans that Ia) at the bac;e of the GCU plan, the much harsher SHAEF handbook-tougher in all respects, including education-became the official \\ar Depannwnt plan f01 the occupation. But the education officers who began oper.Hions in Gcrmanv fo). lowed the ~>pirit of the handbook the) had drafted as part of tlw GCU rather than SHAEF's. Archibald MacLeish, assistant secretary of state for cultural all'airs and coordinator of State's plans for postwar German education reform!>, pondered ways to reconcile the department's core conviction that Germans must be involved in the active reconstruction of their own educational system with the growing awareness that there would be no central government in Germany once the war ended. The anticipated lack of a central government naturally raised the question of who in Germany might be able to reform German ed· ucation. MacLeish himself was not sure that sufficient CCI man personnel for thoroughgoing reforms would be available: "The basic question of the reed· ucation of Germany probably cannot be approached int('lligently until we have occupied Germany and have learned whether 01 not the civilian per· sonnel we need for our assistance actually exists ls1r)." 11 MacLeish '!>focus on ~civilian personnel" hints at the tendency to define the need fm German partners in technocratic tenn!> rathe• than in avowedly pohtKal or coalitional ones. Planners generally had a normative view of edu· c.Ilion a' an apolitical endeavor, and they were looking not f01 groups or par· tic:-. as allies but rather for enlightened indi"iduals who could be entmsted with !.pecilic tasks. Uncertain about the availabilit', of MKh individuals, \1ac· Lcish put detailed planning on the back. burner. and the State Deparunenl developed the Long Range Policy Statement for German Reeducation. or S\\').ICC 269/5. In essence, this statement proposed to delegate maximum educational control to the Germans, foreseeing only a minimal and rapidly n •ceding control function for U.S. occupation forces. By the eve of occupation both the War Department (implicitly) and the State Depll'd in ibid .. :H.
98
}';duration aftrr the War
the job to the Germans themselves. The very weak organizational status.of the £ducation and Religious Aflair~ S<•ction (ERA) of OMGUS flowed dtrectly frorn these modest pol in ambitions.•' )et if reconstructionists controlll'd acLUal education policy early on, the unishmcnt faction controlled th<· airwaves. \\'hen O~IGCS announced an ~{fort to install committed antifasCJsts-whl'ther returning exiles or those ,uni,ing inside Germany-thi' pnsonncl policv contJibuted to an early bliu of anti-'\azi information which was also a channel for disseminating American suggestions that the occupation lw thorough and harsh. t~ Exiles such as Alfred Doblin and Lion Fcuchtwangt•t suggested that the "German disease" \\'aS incurable even b' reformed instillltions and called for pern1anent U.S. occupation of Germanv. Although thi-; vic'' newr drove official occupation policy. it did reflect a cenain mind ·:-.et that found expression in the U.S.-controlled press. "Reeducation" thus quickly got a bad name in Germany, and that reputation likely made opposition to later ell'ort~ at school reform much easier to mobilize. 11 Like the American and British unionists (sec Chapter 3), the professionals who staffed the occupation brought with them their o...v'Tl biases about how institutions should be structured. OM GUS u·ied to find American specialists to fill its positions, and the education oflicers-the few hundred men and the handful of women who oversaw school reforms from 1945 to 1949-brought insights from their professions as American teachers and administrators. But because ERA's low organizational ~tat us alwavs made difficult the recruitment of adequate personnel. virtuall> none had experience in school reform, and their general level of knowledge about German education was modest at best. Erich Hylla. a Prussian educational oflicial who became an 0~1GUS consultant, reported in 1947 that of the eight\ educational specialists in Germanv. only three or four spol..e German well enough to exchange ideas \\ith German teachers.•-· Below the top laYer, ft'\\ 0\1GU<> ofllci.lb had expertise on Gennan education: most were familiar only with the Alnet·ican system. Since the core of Allied poli\\ as articulatt·d in JCS 1067. the Potsdam Accords. and SWNCC 269/5 did not foresee an active school reform, however, this deficiencr appeared unimportant. 12. With•n 0~1(.U~. LR.\ "'" ,m,a ll.llld tH·.aJ... ,, Mlho•din.uc: organilittion struggling !01 , ,._ sources tet gcnl'ralh , '''P'""i'c' to 0\1< ,( IS 1-(o.tk Thu,, unlc'" tht> contt>xt implic:s oth('rt' i't', I attribute L .~. polkv goal;, to the· two mg.tnit.ttion., intc•rch.mgt'ablv. I abo inclucl<' l.rmd c!Nachtnent5 of the l .S. militarv gmetllllll'lll in tIH• ck'i!l;ll,ttion "0~1GUS." 13. Hamid llurwitt ,/ht• .\tu111fl .\'u/1 dn dru/\f lun 1'11'\\f: I ht• amn dwni~rhe f't Pnl'fJolitrk 111 Dl'lll\ch land, 19-15-ilJ.I9 (( 'olognl': Yc· •l.ag \\i"c'mc h.tlt umll'olitil.., Hl72). 14. Jutta Ltngc:·QIIot\\ow,J..i , \1'1/mtftll/11~ min J(,•,/ctttl!tllflll ! /)a\ !Jrmokmllekon:.PfJI tin amnlkfiIUSchm Brllll~llll/.,"""uhtrlllfi dlljmiltlltlu \m.wilvtlllt/1 df't \\,,tdrulldlln (Opladt·n. (;('lmanv: l .e\J..e + Rndrich , 19iY), 266. ' 1~. 11u \11nlh ·.\luw/t ( •IIIII/I ( 'oll•tll"" ( \.,ttion.al ..,,.,uri!' \n hiH''• \\a,hington. D.C.). 2 ( 1\H 7 J. 71 -18,
99
IMJ I'ArJON AND
PoLITics: REDESIG!\I'It:
~tom.IH\ CJ.RMAN\
In shott, the American failure to build a coalition to ~uppotl school reform had it~ root~ squarely in the uncertainties and contradic of the planning process. Education officers (although theit diflcrences did not reflect allegiances to different U.S. interest group<,, as wa~ the case in the AFL and CIO factionalism that pla\ed such an impottant role in German indusu ial relations reform) were not homogeneous in tlwi1 rdm m philosoph It'\. Contentions inside the planning apparatus \H'tt' important in two \\,\\'\. Fir\1, there was a potential tension between a thoroughgoing reform of sd10ols and the effort to rebuild Germany quick!\. Second. the reconstruc tionist Llnion, which was most inclined to ally with Gnm.m refcmners. was least inclined to push for institutional change. whereas the faction insisting that institutional change was necessary was committed to a vkw of Germany suggesting that appropriate partners would be few. Even when institutional change did belatedly move to the forefront of American policy. it was not accompanied by a concerted effort to persuade and recruit a variety of German partners. Instead, OMGUS held to the broader modus operandi of working directly with German elites inside government minisll ies-often people originally appointed by OMGUS. The obvious question then is whether sui· tnblc partners for school reform were available among these elites.
N~· w PI.AYI~Rs, OLD PLA:-~s: GERMAN PARTIES ANn SCHOOL R~:~ ORM
Whether hoping for indigenous German refmm.., 01 pu~hing actively for common schools, American school reformers in each Land dealt primarily with the two major political parties, the Christian Demon a tic l'nion-Christian ~ocial L'nion (CDU-CSll) and the Social Demonatic Panv (SPD). Doing so conserved scarce organizational resources b, allowing OMGUS to work dircnh with Mate ~1inistries of Culture, but it left 0\tGl"S with the problem of con!llru< ting an alliance for school reform between pa1 ties that were either oppo~l·d in principle (the COli) or uncertain in practice (the ~PD). Postwar CDU education polic} was something of a pa1 ad ox in that cultural poliC\ was an obsession. yet school reform was bareh mentioned. The newly fmnwd partv welcomed both Catholics and Protestants and thus welded togt·ther quite diverse world views. As it had not yet developed a consensus on education. it spoke of promoting "Christian values," a slogan both vague and vibrant. Party leaders invoked these values in all clements of policy formation hut kft the question of educational reform quite underspccilicd. CDU dialogue depicted National Socialist education as the rxll'mirm of perverse liberal and sodalist notions of progress, secularism, and human pnfectibility. 1h Th
I h. \llrt"d llollm.mn. "'Dit' HilduiiK'P"Iiti,dte \or,t.-llnngcn d .. r (Ill tr11d Sl'l)" (l'h. D of hl,IIIAt'n. l!lhl'l). :'i~-:;3.
trHH' "H\
100
J-:ducation njirr thr Har
partv's education experts generally gave religious education clear priorit) over intellectual and \'OCational education, calling for the separation of state sehools bv religions, for additional state funding for "private" (church-run) ~hoots. for the constitutional an< horing of parents' rights, and for guarantees that cledcs (not the tt'acher-.) give religious instruction in any public sehoob that were co-religiou<;. 7 Accordingly. the CDU prefct H'd "intern •.ll reform~ of schools to institutional reforms. Internal reform was -.een as a w;n to reconcile the party's mission w establish Christian \alues in all spheres of public life with a defense agaimt the further extension of Matt· control of education. (The slogan that captured party demands f01 limits lO state prerogatives was "parents' rights.") Despite some CDU plans in Nonh Rhine-Westphalia to roll back state authority and put education back into private hands, the party majority was content to defend traditional educational institutions, provided they could be used to promote Christian values. In sum, the institutional reform debate inside the CDU in this period was muted by a fundamental satisfaction with traditional educational structures. The organizational divisions of the school system were seen to rrjlrrl natural difl'crences of ability in the population but not to perpetuate such distinctions-which could, in any event, be transcended by common values. 1" In the SPD, by contrast, American reformers had a potential school reform ally of long standing. SPD school politics in the Weimar period had reflected the party's division over whether revolution or reform was the immediate goal. 1'' This internal division, combined with the challenges of building a coalition \\ith bourgeois patties and solving the chronic financial problems of the Reich, left both the partv\ school reform utopias and even iL<; more modest plans largclv unfulf111ed. Weimar SPD school goals were captured by the slogan "H'e/tlirhknt, .~taatlzrhknt, Emheitlirhkeit, und Unmtgeltlichkeit" (secular, public, unified, and free). and the part) 's central institutional demand was for common schoob. The SPD dilemma was that when it allied \\ith the left, early in Weimar, it could pass its school reform proposals (including a four-year common primary school) but could not keep parliamentary democracy intact; yet when it allied with bourgeois parties, it could not get its reforms through the Rcichstag.1 " The SPD also suffered from the lack of a Strong base among professional groups and in civil society more broadly.11
17. l.ange·Quaw>w~ki, .\'nwtdntiiiJ<. 17!1. 18. Hollmann. "Die Bildung,politi'>th(• \'ol\t!'llung(•n," 61-66, 515. Lange-Quao;_mwski (.\'Pu· ordnung od1•r Hfltnumtion? Il-l~) ,ho"' hm• ( :tH t ollrc iah used p~eudoscientific researth on "'gift edness" to totmt<•r argum("llt' ahont tiH' li11k' ht·twtTII ,otial d<~'<• and educational opportuuit\. 19. This account of the ~PilI olio\\\ \\oll~o:.tnA Wittw<"t, /)u Sm.wltlemokralisthi'Srhulpobllk in dn l\ioimarn· Urpuilltk (1\crlin: ( olloquitnn \!'rl.tA, 1'IHO). 20. Ibid .. ~0. 21. Ibid .. I !};i-9ti.
101
I MI rATION AND
Pou·••cs:
REDEStt;NINC;
Mom RN
Education after the War
(;~ RMANY
For all the Weimar SPD's problems building a coalition for school there was strong evidence that social class and educational opportunity linked. In 1925-26 only 499 (1 %) of the 49,000 students at Pt msian u sities were children of workers or farmer~. At the technical universities numbers were even more extreme: only 88 of 17,700 (0.5%). The links extt'nded to the secondary schools. In Berlin-Wedding, a heavily class section of the city, 90.5% of youth staved in the \olk\\rlwln1. whereas middle-class Zehlendorf and \\'ilmcrsdorf only 35.6% <md 5H.9% did so. althcntgh the numbers of Germans going to higher schooh and to u tic'> exploded between 1911 and the late 1920s, the data -.how that there few workers' children among them. In Bavaria in 1927-28 the higher sch had 8.2% workers' children and an additional 8.2% from "lcm -level emr>lot• Pes"; in Saxony in 1927 only 7.73% were worker<;' children. Moreover, to the limited extent that the SPD was abl<.' to promote the thn education of workers, it was forced to do so through institutions structed outside the regular educational system, as its cfl'ot ts to change the tern from within were consistently defeated. 22 With power shared betweea th<.· working class and the liberal bourgeoisie, the same lights were fough out over and over, and Weimar ended up still making substantially the same ('(lucation proposals in 1932 that it had started with in 1918. For the SPD the achievemcuts were modest indeed: teachers gained mon· freedom from school administrators and were somewhat better paid; the four-year elemental" school was established, extended, and made universal; vocational schooll were improved (especially in some localities); and some efforts were made (usualh outside the normal system) for ad\an
liability of institutions and the possibility that under democratic control ~ey could reach clown to the level of individual citizens. 24 Equally importam, the postwar SPD's call for equal educational opportunity was flanked by a new acceptance of unequal outcomes based on differences in individual abilities.!?~ Thi-. was hardlv the same old SPD utopianism. The re,ision of social dl.'mocratic thinking on educational poliC} left little tension between the part\ 's institutional goals and the hopes ofC.S. occupation officials. If one could alwa's find residual hostility in the SPD to seeing expanded educational opportunity used merely to promote individual talents and not to overcoming clas'> differences, there was nevertheless a great deal of common ground conceming institutional reform. But the SPD. like oMGUS. initially gave little attention to implementing these goals. 2" Like the CDU. the SPD was attempting to unite diverse strands of support under the auspices of a single party. Unlike the CDU, the SPD was handicapped by a history of hostility to religion. The effort to expand the party beyond the working class led to ambivalence among party leaders about how to address issues of religious instruction and about the precise form the common school should take. In short, in 1945 OMGUS faced an uphill battle with intransigence in one camp and indecisiveness in the other. Without decisive leadership to promote reformist agendas, dampen conservative resistance, and win the uncommitted in both camps, no school reform was possible. By allowing Germans to renuit personnel and reconstruct physical facilities along traditionalist lines. OM GUS closed ofT this possibility.
THE FIGHT •oR
SntooL RnoR~1
Tht Political Comequma~ of Pragmatum . The occupation arrived in German} with no detailed guidelines on educauon, far less a blueprint for Americani£ing it. JCS 1067 called for full denazification and then a tapid opening of schools. As noted, the decision not to attempt a thoroughgoing reform of German secondary schools in time for the beginning of the 1945 school year reflected the disagreements around the question of punishing versus reconstructing Germany. Returning maximum control of education to the Germans was the practical outcome of this stalemate. The U.S. Army, given iL~ experience in the occupation ofltaly, also favored a pt.agmauc . po I'•cy o f concentratmg . on securmg . enough textbooks ~~· Hoflrnllung~·n: :~45-77. Ibid., :19:t fr 26 · 'iPI)\ t·mph•"i' on <.tjllllllll!( lhl' t'< onomiC\ mini>t• it''> may ha\C distracted its auention om cultural aflai 1 '· · :>.
~~.
lhicl., 2t9.
~(iti.
27!>.
~:l Cr.um. ll.rmtmrutal. 65-67, 173-HI. 2:\:l-~:lti.
103 102
lM 1 m liON AND
Pouncs:
RED~:SIGN INC: MOIH.RN GI·.RMAN y
and buildings and approved teacher~ so that schools could be rapidly re op~ned and children kept off the street. Thus, f(>r both su·ategic and organi .t:ttlonal reasons, schools were reopened quickly. and n:f<mn was left to the (,ermans. lnlike its practice with unions, the press, and political organizatio O~!GUS did not rely on a licensing proces'> f01 schools but rather soughtns, reopen them all at the beginning of the 19-15 school \'Cal on October I. \\'i: that date looming. ERA's small staff went to wm k. •• \lthough shifts in d na.t.ificauon procedures constantl} disrupted tlwi1 dlorts at personnel r~ nulllnent. 20.000 teachers were cleared that first vear-,lt best• howe,·er . on h. about ha~ the num?er needed. Dena.tification n:'>ultcd m the firing of half to two-thirds of allmcumbent teachers, and in indi,idu.tl districts the proportion was often much higher. ~s In \\'i'ntburg. 90% of teachers \\ere purged (although many returned soon theH·after). "' Comequently, in 1945 the student-teacher ratio in the Volkudwlm was ove1 HO to 1. and even then some 220,000 children between six and fourteen could not attend school at all for lack of buildings, teachers. and materials. In I lessen, for example, b) December 1945, 75,000 of the 400,000 Hilk~uhiili•r !.till had no school to attend, and in the higher schools only 2,400 of the '15,000 pupils were back in class.-m Substantial energies were also invested in securing textbooks, often from the vVeimar period, to replace those used under the alis. OM GUS was well into its first year of operations before any formal mention of school reform was made. In keeping with the decision to return control over most aspect~ of educational affairs to German hands, it did act quicklv to organile appropriate competencies. The United State~ began establishing '>late government~ more rapidly than any other occupation power, Bavaria's flr't in ~lay 1945 and the other Liinder of the L .S. .tone '" September 19, 1945 (although the states did not receive any re.tl .tuthorit\ untii.Januar} 1, 1946). One of the first measures was the \\Titing of L11nd comtitutiom.-a proce'\S that O~tGUS sought to influence indirect!) through
:!7. I• R \ pt·"onnd inu ea;,ed to about f01 1\ ollie c·" in thc· In 't \t',ll of opc·t ,ttion,, but b1 1947 thn '"II h.ccl fillt'cl onlv flft1 oft he more than eiglm authcH itt·d po,iuon, , 1 ht'\1' fc·w olliccr'"erc tot,tlh c·mplmecl with tht' initial dcnatification pt otedcut'' .mel thl' tt·opc·ning of ;chooh. Smllh .\lttudt Col/utum, 2: i7-7H. 2R Ihid.: Ten 1••H111ion on the Rlrine. fi!l; Ric- h,u d 1\lt•tt iu, /!mull I!II'\ 1111f1111td ( '\c·w 1 (,1\cn: \',ck l niw"itv "'"'~· 199f>). :n:l. 29. In late l!loJ6the Ha1·arian Mini>tn of'Cnhutc•l>t'gan allm•ing pcnio 11 ,J1 h. 111 nc·d tearhc·rs to 1 t'tllt 11 to their job~. By Julv I !l4H, I I ,000 of the 12,000 1\av.n i.cn tc·ac hc· 1 , 01 iginal ly ban nt·d hacl lt'ttunnl; Wt' Herbert Schott. /)ir .\mnilmnn alllltlfii:IIIIK\IIIIIIhl 111 H'tm.l!11rK, J9.J5-! 9-I9 (\\iuthlllf.:: Fcc·undc· ~tainfrru•ki,cher Kumt unci(; .. ,< hi1hu·. lll'i!.">), IIH 1•1. \II SPD ~chool rt·fotm pi.HJ\ Wt'lt' ptedicated on large program' to tr.cin "nt•w lt',lt ht·t, .. (,\1'11/linn). :lO. Wahc·t ~1i1hlhamen,//esseu, /<J-/5 1'150 (Fr.cnf..lnct· lnwl . l'lH">). IIi"> .
104
from the state governments, because "in tl1c process of reviewing and a proving su
pos.
T~
Sluft to ')clwol Refm m: \\11m and Wh)?
\\'ll\ did the idea of an ,,ggrcssive American-led school reform-discussed and rejent·d in wanime planning-resurface during 1946? Quite simply, OMGl ' ~ was disappointed with the meagerness of German reform plans. In Deccmbn 1945, Tavlor calkd ERA 11taff together in Frankfurt to discuss the first six months of opt•rations (which had. after all, contained their share of sucn·sses in reopening and equipping schools) and to look ahead. ERA 31. Quolt·d in Thc on, "Sduclt l'fo11n." II. 32. St·t· the distll"iott in thid .. HI HH. 3:1. ~......, l'.f.: .. Dit·u it h <:old\t lunidt. "'lr bel\\t•t·n \met it an ;ucd Cc·c ncan J:chuat
1983).
105
IMI !'AriON AND POLITICS:
R~.DESICNINC;
l\-1onFRN
c~.RI\I"N'
oilicers agreed that there were many German~ with whom they could and that those people had been indispensablt' in the den were circulated to teachers and other interested parties. ~7 The ~1i~sion Report (as it wa<; commonly called) catal}'ed a major shift awa) from the hands-off approach ofSWNCC 269 5. It not onh called fora common school but endorsed a larger system in which elementary schools would be six years in length and all the higher 'chool~ would be housed in the .,arne building and consist of two consecutive three-veal blocks. There were suiking similarities to the C.S. system with it.<; six-vear elementary followed b~junior and senior high schools. The reconstructionist State Department, which, ironically, had pushed for the mission, was di!>maved by its rec· :l t. Tt·nt. Mmwn <mth~ Ri1ine, 69-73, 78. :l!i. rhc1 e wa-, much to complain about. For<'' ide nee on t lw r.1pid 1ct11111 ol purged teac heR and tilt• li.S. failt11e to build a r.;asonable p10gram to uai11 nc'" 1cad•c·1~ (;~,tilt· Soviet~ did ag g1 c·~,i\t"h in the CDR), ~ee Grams. Kontinuitiit, I 7:1-H I , l!6:l. ER,\ did ll,t. c 1,,,h rour~c" to train .. te.tdwr\ ht·lper~ " and placed them in ;chools in 'ignifirant nulltht·"· wt tlwv did \ery little to 1 c•t.tin them a' full-time teachers. Such people-who might hme \t'IV<'d " ' .tn in-M:hool clien tele lc)l 1C'lc11 ltl\-\oon mmed on to other occupation~ ;~, the ptnged tc<~c ht'l, 1t•claimed their old po,itiOII\. :lh. ( •<'Ill' I al Dougi
£duration after the Wn
ommendation that OMCUS promote a modified form of the American ,chool s'stem in German\. IH Nen·rtheless. Clay adopted tlw \fission Report as a guideline for school reform b' quicklv commming to a variant of the plan for a six-year elementary and a common higher school. 'At the same time. though. his foreword to the Gennan edition of the repon W
Giving Ordm: ThP OMGUS Srhool Rrfonn.Dirfctives There were three essential elements of the new American effort to advance institutional change in German Khools: to promote common schooling both by increasing the years of ekmcntary school and by reforming secondary schools. to make tuition and textbooks free, and to require that all teachers receive uniYer,itv-level training. The ERA saw these elements ac; mutually reinforcing steps to\\. the ERA sought to persuade each Land to pass legislation that would secure thes(' three functionally equivalent goals. Its effort~ were carried out in three waves of activity, involving increasingly angry
3/i. Tent . .ltt\\WI/11/1 t/11 Ulu111'. 110- l'l. 39. For a det.ulc-d 11 111 (.e1mam.- Octohn 194 7. 0.\f< ;t·s P.tpt'l '· Ol C. Hm. hi. > :!~~~.! '1, 1.!. R(, .!hO, :\.Hion.tl \1< lun·s.
106 107
1MIIAI'IoN AND
Pouncs: REor·,src:-~rNc
MODFR\1 (;FH\IA'-1\
demands on the part of ~RA for school ref~>rm laws. ·~·he first phase \¥ll marked b) the apparent divergence of the f.andl'r; gmwmg concerns abotl implementation and intransigence marked the ~econd; unsuccessful thr~ of force. the third. 11 . OMGUS was far from inflexible. ERA offi
fc~nns, and in publiC: forums they c~n~nned that tht'\ would have been haPIIJ wuh changes over five to ten years ume. •~ On the sepa1 ate issue of the QJit. lmt of change. there is ample evidence that OMGL'S ""'willing to accept,~ pccial_h as _ti~e went on, a wid~ range of rt'fonn possibilities. In other wore~~. Amen can ms1stence on educauon reform gre\\ out of broad claims about tbe dt•mocrati/ing functions of common schooling but not out of a fetish for par tkulaJ imtitutional forms. Any "reasonable. wide forward stt·p. ~ as General Clay put it. would have sufficed. The first round of school reform began on Januar> l 0, 1947, when Clay st~ nt_ out a. memo requiring ea.ch Lm~d's . .Ministry of Cultme to submit by Apnl 1 a list of general education oqJeCtives and by October 1 a more detailed long-term plan for achieving those aims. 11 The UindPr were to submit plans for a common school in which different kinds of schooling merged in comerutive fashion rather than pursuing separate and exclusive tracks. Taylor and his deputy, Richard Alexander, fleshed out Clay's instructions in a series of strongly worded speeches at the Ministries of' Culture in Bavaria, Hc~scn, and W(irttemberg-Baden. 11 They railed for a six-year elementary t:ducation followed by a common higher school in which a six-year academtC track would exist alongside-wherever possible in the same building. Tavlor stn·'>s<·d-the general track that would enroll90% of the pupils. The general tr tl icth differentiated and dedicated to preparation for uni,ersity studies. ln addition to this 6-3-3 system, Taylor also called for an end to tuition and
t l. B,l\ ,ut.m n·, j,t,mu: to LS. >ehool re form dlotl\ " •'' tht· \ttnll).(t''l; 01\t(;l 'i t·xpent"ll lllllt' lllht•t).(· B.uku IH'It> not much bette• : .mel dt•spite ,, p11uni'm!l ''·" 1, llt'"t' n .mel Utt mcll hlttn 1\ dt'·'fJJX>Illlt'd 0~1< ;Ls in the <.:nel . Onh in Wt'\l fktlin , undt·r ,, "hoolla~> dr,tftt·d m COli" j 1111< twn \\ith tht• otht·t \llit'd pcmer,. \\t>rt· conHtH>Il \thoo l' m.tint.tirlt'd \\t'll hnond tht•e nd thl' ''"' ph.l\t' oltht \runitau ocurpatio n, .mel t'\t'ntht•tt'lht· """"'' h.ull.u).(t'h tcllullt·rl lhH·t· tr ;u k. \\\tt'm 1>1 lht: mid · l950s. t:!. Tluon , "'idltllrt>lotm," 95. 1'1. I· xlt·ndt·d hom the original july I dt>adlitH' . 111 \\
II. '1;1\lot had n·n uitnl Alexander. his old rnt•utor horn Columbia. ,\lt·xanclt• r MltH' l'.tvlot '" ht·;td of lht' tR.t\ in April I 947, wht:n ..tlor ts lai lt'el to lind -'Oillt'Oil<' ol hi)tht•r \[,tillS ' It'll! , .\//IIJrJ/1 1111 lht· lllunr. 12:i -~l.
J;,, o.;,.,. "0\l<:l S felq.;-ramm IOrnJanua" 10. 1917," in /Joknmmlt· . 111 Srlllllll'form 111 I~ t•d . ll;tm ~tt•r kt ( 1\lunith: Richard Pflaum. 19:>~). ,-,:1 !i I. Cl.11 \ lllt'IIIO rdlt'tlt'd ,, dt•ti,tc>n to lollol\ tlw \ti"io11 Rq>ort\ implicit rt:conlfllt'lld;uioll 10 fort t' tht· vot.lliollal 'thooJ,, " nllt •t t·d tht· th<'nr <'tic .II and ge nt'ral cducatio11 pot tio11 ol cl11al 1oc .lltou,rl 1r ;tilling. inw tht• C
pr t•hc ·n'i' (' '( hool,.
Education after tlze War
ourse fees and for universit)'-kV<'l teacher training as prerequisites to the '. ds of school organi/ation OMCL'S would accept. 1" oflicials had mixed kelings about the resulting Uinder educa. n proposals. The} saw BaYaria\ plan not as fundamental reform at all but as window dressing of the old '' \\'lirttemberg-Baden's plan, roposing a six-year elemental} .ts the basis fo1· a 6-3-4 ~yst~m, appeared to~ PgtJe w be confident!\'. eYaluated. wa-; enthusia<>Uc about Bremen s ra original plan. which railed fm a 6-3-3 sntem.in which a six~year co1~mon elementan school would lead into thrt'('- and SJX-}ear tracks for vocau~nal and academic preparation, respecti\eh. Since e\·en the three-year Mzttelsdwle would be internally cliffcrentiated (although under the same roof as the academic track), the clifTeH·nces from U.S. high schools were plain enough. again indicating that ERA was not insisting on an exact replication of the American model. All levels would be lllition free, and training for Volksschulen teachers would be extended from two university years to three. The plan was 10 be experimental at first, with full implementation set for the beginning of 1948. OMGUS was willing to accept the proposal, provided that it could be implemented, saying it was "certainly outstanding in the soundness of i~s aims, its clarity of presentation, and the evident understanding and appreCIation of the best of modern education." •x Hessen's first school reform plan, a 4-4-4 svstem, also seemed to ERA officiab a very good start. Thu~. as the deadline for submiuing detailed long-range plans approached, OMGUS was confronted with two quite distinct sets of responses. It had suggested publicly that it was willing to tolerate a range of designs, but the Bavarian plan was clearly beyond the pale, and that of WurttembergBaden onlv somewhat better. The Bremen and Hessian plans looked promising but were still merclv pap<' I refonm. and as OMGUS was about to discover, talk was cheap. In June 1947 the most important Allied document pertaining to postwar educational reform, known a~ ACA 54, was promulgated jointly by the United States. Britain. France. and the Soviet Union. Pushed by the United States, the document contained a list of principles to guide institutional reform in German education in all f'ou1 /Ont·s. Since "democratization~ of German education was a goal shared b) all the Allied powers, several tenets of ACA 54 are too broad to be charactcrit.ecl as functional equivalents; they are betler seen as vague areas of international agreement: educational opportunity for all; compulsory full-time school attendance until the age of fifteen and at least part-time attendance until eighteen; a curriculum to promote international goodwill and understanding; a democratic school administration
kl~;\JGL'S
:~ph
svst~m.
0~1GUS
46. Tt:nt, \tmion 1111 thr Rh111r. I :!·t - :!.">. 47. Thrun, "Schutn·lotrn ." I 0:!: h ·nt . \111\11111 1111 tllf' Uhmr. 48. Thron, "Schuhd!>rlll." 100.
12!1 -:l~.
/08
109
Education after the mzr
IMI rATION AND PoLITICS: Ru>J<..SIG:-IING Mom.Hr-. GFH'.tA 'IY
~t>n~itivc
to the wishes of the people; and the teaching of civic tt>sponsibility and dcmocra9 through both the curriculum and th<' organi,.ation of the \Chool itself. At a greater level of specificity, however, all three ron: tc·ncts of the American functional equivalent approach arc codified in AC \51: free tuition and matt>nals f<>r all primary and secondary pupils; the abolition of fully separatt· ac.tdemic and vocational tracks in favor of comecutivc kvcls of instruction; and uni' ersitv-level training for all teacher-., not just thme in the G)mllfHim. Thm. the functional equivalent strategy was embcddt•d in a range of other mechanisms to promote institutional change. Yet as tlw ~chool reform suuggle escalated. the institutional transfer component came to dominate the OMGCS agenda: it pursued instjtutional changes diflering both from educational practices in other European states of the time and from policies pursued by the other Allied powers in German;. Again, in pushing transfer, OMGUS did not insist that Germans exactly reproduce American institutions. Payne Templeton, the head of ERA in Wl'1rttemberg-Baden, spoke out repeatedly on this sul~ject, remarking, ''We understand that every educational system must be related to the culture and history of the particular Land, indeed we believe that the atmosphere of evt't y locality ought to be tangible in its own schools. Nevertheless, we also belic·vc· ... that the American program of democratic education has certain advantages which, when modified, can and should be built into the German t·ducation svstcm. "~'' Still, ERA officials occasionally reminded themselves to fonts on the core mission of educational reform and not to substitute ~mailer modifications for the key structural changes desired. E. F. Lindquist, an OM(.US "visiting expert~ from the Iowa State Uni\ersin. argued forcefully f01 thi~ position at an ERA conference: [ 0\IGLS '~J exclu~ive educational goal ... b the de moo ,ttilation of Germam .... iunthing done bv American educational .tuthoritit·' 111 Gennam must be ju,tified in terms of its direct or indirect contribution to thts one all1111)>01 tam objective. There are manv wavs in \\hith German ecluc,IUon could ht· "improved," in the sense of being made more dlint•nt ot more effective wtth rek• ence to other educational goals. ~1any of the'c way' must seem almmt painfully ob\ious to the American educatot \\'a\S, f(Jt example, of "improving" the teaching of arithmetic, or of home rconomits, 01 present practin·' in vocational education, physical education, school building planning. <'t<. Many of these "improvements" could be readily dlt•rt<'cl, but even if effected, many of them would make no appreciable contribution to the one re,tl objt•ctivc. Nevertheless, the temptation to take the tilTH' to bring about such impro,·ements appears to be very strong, particularly, perhaps, bt•cause of the fmstrations that have been experienced in direct att
110
111
ihut.. li!l.
lishments. It is a temptation, it seems to me, against which American edu.ca-
~ors in Germany mmt bt• ('onstantly on guard. lest they lose the real campatgn while winning minot skirmisht·s. " The second round ofschool•cform commenced with the Octo.be.r 1, 19~7. d dline for detailed long-term plans. Despite constant nego~auons \\1th ea , . ·"tr\ of Culture ERA had clearly failed to convince Bavaria to develop the ·' 1In 1·' . , . .. . a common school. The Bavarian~ proposed to prov1dc tuition help for chtldren or poor parcnL<;, but the} were unwilling to b~dge on text~ok costs or teacher-training issues. In f,tct. the second Bavar1~ plan was JUdged b~ O~tGl'S to be "in man> rc~pects ... even more .reactionary ~an the first.. The Bavarians countered that "internal (pedagog1cal r~ne~val) reforms we~~~ much more essential than "merely extc:n.al (org~mzauonal~ changes. OMGL'S officials in Bavaria judged that Mm•ster of Culture Alo1~ Hundhammer "docs not want a single track school system. and real cducauonal opportunities for all children. He does not want equality between seco~dary a~d elementary teachers. lie does not want Catholic and Protestant children m ~he same classroom .... T he Minister furthermore does not want free cducauon for all children, still less free textbooks and teaching materials. He docs n?t want the masses of children in secondary schools, nor very large numbers m universities .... He docs not want to disturb the stratified ~lass sr.:ucture of German society."'•2 On December 23, 1947, OMGUS offic1ally reJected the second draft in a Jetter to Bavarian Prime Minister H ans Ehard. The Wurttembcrg-Baden plan was seen as an impr~vement,.though scant, over the goals submitted in April, but OMGUS warned that tt lacked b~th specificity and a timetable for implementation. Appalled by the Bavanan plan and further disconcerted by that of Wiirttemberg-~aden, OMGU~ was also disappointed" ith the noticeable slowing of r.eform m the oth~r Liindn-. Concern grew about the paucit; of implementation measures bemg devel~ oped and about the lack of a concened public relations effort on ~e plans behalf. In Hessen, 0:\1GL'S officials had long considered the mavenck C~U Minister of Culture Erwin Stein to be working in close tandem with Hessian ERA officials. Yet his October 1 plan wali in some ways a step back fr?m the April version and had also distanced itself from the recommendauons of expert "working groups" formed to advise the ministry ?n sch~ol reform. ~he Hessian ERA saw in his proposal to reintroduce elective subje~ts-pa.ru~u larly Latin-as early as fifth grade a move back toward early dtfferenuauon for C,•mnasium pupils.":1 In Bremen, a messy fight ~o finally rati~ .the La~d constitution had included a rebellion by Catholics over proVISions that 50. Quot<"d in Kell<·•. ·vm.uion,\1 Fdur.uion." H-!1. 51. 1hron, "Schuln: f(um." IOH . • . 52. Quoted in ibid . II ~ - 1 :t 0\1( ,lJS lwhned that Hundhamrn<'r \\'a> att<"mpung to 1 <'I lit 11 the educauonal ,,,lem 10 it' l
111
ll\11 fi\110'1
Mm Por,n res:
REDESIGI\11\C ~1om.RN ChRMi\NY
thrcatcn<:d public funding for privately run school~. Al~o. the demonstration dkct of Bavarian resistance and of the fierce opposition to ~chool reforlllJ being implemented autonomously by the SPD in l Iam burg and Schleswig. Holstein under British occupation had led Bremen\ SPO sc·nator for educa. tion affairs, Christian Paulmann, to slow his own ref(Hm ambitions. ~ r\' 194 7 dr<:w to a close, then, the ERA saw intransigt·nce limn Bavaria and \\ i'uuemb<:rg-Baden and backtracking from Hcs.,t·n and Bremen. In re. '>pons<·. 0~1Gt.:S officials authorized a third. dcsper.ue olfemi'e that in. eluded a combination of threats, orders, and the avoidanc<: of democratic pmn•s.,<'' that the) had themseJyes establislwd. Tlw F.RA ordered elected oflirials to implement the key elements of ACA 5-t. It backed ofl on some demand~ for the reform of the secondary school-angrily accepting that ncithcr the Gymnasium's importance nor its acces<~ibilil) would he seriously changed-but held to its insistence on six-year clementarv schools, free booh and tuition, and university-level teacher training. In a battle for pride and principle, it sought to salvage what it could before the occupation ended. Short sketches of the political d isputes in the three U.S. tOn<· Uinderwhere OMGUS resorted to orders-Hessen, Bavaria, and Brem<'n - also serve to trace the ultimate outcomes of the institutional transfer attempts."':' Tltf l~mlgmne in Three Lander: ~nriatiOIIS 011 a Disappointing Thrmr
State authoril)' over education complicated U.S. dlorts at institutional transfer. ls~uing orders (and threatening w fire GCJman oflicials who failed to carr} them out) caused different reactions in ditrcrent pla<e!'t. In Hessen, OMGl S attempted to engage the region's reform u·adition in education b) seuing up ''working groups·· on school reform.''" The experts in these groups, appointed b' the ministry with ERA apprO\al. were :-.oon caught in a tug of war a-. Hessian ERA officials and ~tinister of Cultmc Stein both attempted to manipulate the structure of public participation. The FRA grc\\ con· cem<·d that "uninformed~ outsiders were dominating public discussions of tlw school reform drafts that had been the subject of long negotiation bv the cxpcrts. Stein came under pressure from groups representing parents and t(•acher'> of Gymnasium pupils, and he resented the working committees' rc· sistance to incorporating his suggestions for earlier drflerentiation of pupils. An organizational change to "streamline" the committees and reestablish them under the auspices of the ministry superficially appeared to meet the
:; I. kill. ibid .. 206-7. :;:;, Onlv in Wiu ltembt·• g-Baden wa5 no 1('(Olll 'l' m.ldt• to di1 ec 1 01 de·•' 01 explidt thrt·.tl~ bt•t-.lll'l' tht• dit ll· t.lll eliot I ' l<" the c·nd ol1he 011 liJlollion in HJ 19 Ibid. 2:\7. :;1\. l..;.l\\'on. U1jmm. 67-77.
112
f:ducation after the
anr
needs of both parties, but th<' opponents of school reform merely mobiliLed resistance in new wavs. In the <'ncl th<.' CDC's Stein was caught between the ERA's and the consen·atin·.,· demand:-. Next, his compromise proposal wa~ blocked hv a coalition of the Catholic church. the organization of secondar) <ehool teachers, and his own part\'. '7 Bv late 1948 Stein was still publicly promoting both "internal n:m•,,,tl" and institutional change but was also maintaining that "an imitation offoreign modcb would mean the stagnation of intellectual de\elopment in G(•rmam." •' ;\o six-year dementan school was achie,ed in Hessen. After exhausth·e negotiations between ERA oflirials and "itein, OMGt.:S finally ordered the minister. on AuguM 4, 1948, to cmme that no fourth graders in his jurisdiction ,,ould move directly into a higher ~chool but would instead enter a fifth elementary year after I !l-t8- 49. Stt~in's first countermove. however, was to comincc the parliament to postpone the beginning of the next school year by six months. Following this cklay. he moved to negotiate with the ERA OMGUS and the ministry each appointed four members of a negotiating board, a contrivance that allowed Hessen yet another year before extending the elementary schools as ordered-and by the end of that year the new occupation statute had ended U.S. authority over educational institutions. Further, although the Hessian constitution had called for an end to tuition and textbook charges, the law stipulating this provision was not passed until February IY4Y. After long negotiations, a complicated agreement did move teacher training to so-called pedagogical institute~; though they were not universities, this change represented a lone bright spot in the once promising ERA efforts in Hcssen. In Hessen the cultural minister was at least initiallv disposed toward school reform, but in Bavaria the ERA ran up against a committed opponent in Alois Hundhammer. Within a week of its oflicial rejection of the second Bavarian plan. the ERA ordered both I lundhammer and Prime ~1inister Ehard to produce a satisfactoq• reform propo~al bv Febnrar} 1. 1948. Ehard vehementlv protested the shift from suggestiom to direct orders. but Hundhammer proceeded to consu·uct precisely the plan ERA had called for-simultaneousl}. however. beginning a public relations campaign to paint the reforms as the "Americanization" of German education. His primary themes were the pur· ported cost of U.S. proposals and the destruction of the Gymnasium as a unique institution of learning.'•'' Moreover, as Bavarian ollicials had made no plans for curricular reform, OMGUS feared that they might try to sabotage the American-promoted legislation by passing all the provisions simultaneously before any preparations :i7. rent . .\11\\ion 0111/u- IUIIIII', l'l.i '1'1 5H. l·.n,in Steiu, "( :omnwnh ou '>< hool Rdmm." Oc wh<'l :~0. I !HH. repriuted in ,\'ru/~e"'ml und Hntaumlwn. /CJ/5 /'l.f9.ed ll,lll,·jtiiJ.:<"II Ri"lltl (\luuith: dt\', I!IH2). 31H. 59. fe111, ,\f/l\/11/1111/ /}u U/1111~, II:\.
113
Hducahon ajler tltP War
had been made il:>r implementation. Consequently, the ERA demanded p liminary steps and even set up a fund to pay for them.'"' In vocational edu~ tion too, OMGUS officials noted, although organi/alional rdonn plans~ been laid out for demonstration projects in Bavaria, "care [was] required prevent the usc of demonstration schools as a method of 'stalling. '"hi \\'hiJe OM GUS discussed removing Hundhammer, the FRAin Bavaria tried to se. leu tho~e parts of their reform that could be implemented even with a hoe, tile ministry in place. This process led to a decision to back ofi on chan~ the elementar) school structure and to focus imtead on teacher training. In the end, however, the Bavarians refused even to mtn>rluce the proposed lcgi,Jation into their parliament during most of 1948. In April, under pres. sme limn Militaq Governor Mun-a) van Wagonc1, Hundhammer and Eharct agreed to a plan to remove fees for tuition and texts for the 1949 school )ear and to establish a commission to plan for a six-year <.'lcmcntary school and universitv-level teacher training. But Hundhamme1 n:ncgcd on the deal within a month. After the further delay of the tuition and text bill untiJ July 1948, tl1e currency reform that had just been conducted then undercut Uinder finances to such an extent that even the SPD voted against the bill in the Bavarian parliament's budget committee."~ The situation worsened when the ERA brought in General Clay to declare that tuition and text charges wou ld simply be billed to the Bavarian government as occupation costs; Ehard nearly resigned in protest. An agreemen t between Clay and Ehard on tuition and texts was finally passed by the parliament-against the protests and maneuverings of Hundhammer-on December 15, 1948. But although the ERA continued to pressure the Bavarians on the other issues, no furt11er movement proved possible. In Bremen tl1e political momentum to implement S
Con~i\t<'tll
fil Kdkr. "\ 'otarional Education." 45. \\llh the logir of the huH rioual eqtm.tll'n .tppro.tdt. imrHurional complexes \>ithout a signiricam Anwo tc.tn .It 1 were uudr r.al lt•ndnl h\ \ , so Oi\IGUS refonned vocationaltraiuing H-rv liule. It did nor II\ to end the dual .S\s[(•nt of sdrool aud film-based training, bur it did intt'lld to promorr· tnoo r·
~.R
wa~
114
wa~
indt~so·ial
r~DC
. . oft . I1e SPD-KPD majority, could not !mann the top education oJlJnal h I Paulmann . nPau • b". I . for a common sc oo. ua diately begin his am Jtlous p ans d th Bremer DemoJu·aunJllC ERA to be r>atient until he could persua e e b , d nd . h t11e COt; get1948, on oar a asked the Volkspartei-then in , -:- to of OMGUS 11-o;ehe .. I I two-thirds maJOrity. In the spnng . " gi't him to make time for a ''vigorous publicity campaign. agreed to a · . ·d I· . b\ t astet 1949. and Paulmann Pl:o.mJSC•t• ~ a:hing hardened during the delay, lea\~ng t~e . th opposlllon. r an\ . h. t II ng hun \et, ~ . . , 0~1Gl.JS kept constant prcssme on lm, e t . Jllinister 111 a quandat . I C re April it would use direct orders to tmthat if no Ia\\ was ~-orthconu~1g _>el <:, 1 1949. Bremen did pass legislation callf. ' Fmalh on •~ at c 1 ,J • , . h d . po..e are orm. . . d C secondary schools whtc ' esptte Ul for six-vear clemet:tan sc~o~>b an ~~different 'tracks), would at least internal d.riTcrcnubau.ol n,. FRA officiallv called the plan II h pupils 111 one u1 c mg. ' ' k · £ house a ble" t eand even expt.esscc . II10pe that other Uinderwould. loo f,to It m or if B men SP D oflicials won ied that re • gUidance. But rc r I might expose their pupils to dlscnmmauon by no other states comp.lec. rliamcnt was slow to implement the legislation.~>• other states. and the City pa I . I th, May 1948 passage of the law for C I.. t reponed t l
th~e;:~\rder
oppositi<~n ~vii
~·
,u~stantial
(/o~fhe
·a~cepta
thorough.got~g. ~r
:
Tm: FALLBACK TO
"REORIENTATION"
, Is. th e_~ resident oflndiana UniYersity, reIn , 0\ember 1947, Herman \\cl · u · 1 1948 ERA was . h h . d of F.RA, and on .v•a} , • . placed Richard Alexander as t. e e,\ . h . d cation reliaious affatrs, t s, tth fou 1 btanc es. e u • o· . . . upgraded to di\1Ston sta u. \ d"d not bring an immeculrural affairs. and group activitic~. These chaln?es d' "The battle on school dJate shift in education policy. for a!> Wells proc .anne. • ' II home ...... . 1osc . , it we mtghtJUSt .as \\e go b"t"ous reform is so important that 1·f· we c . . I h f, ndauon lOr an am I I Wells's ke} contribution, however. w~\S to ~)' t c ~u h botl1 private American 'let of cultural exchange programs financed thr~ ~race who soon replaced donations and U.S. government funds. But Alonzo '
63. lbirl .. ~ 16. 64. Thron ··srhulrdiurn." lf>fi.
65. Chri,ti:ur Paul mann, n1., 9-10 (1\ll'l): 11-12.
··na,
llrl'mist ht• '>rhrr 1"{"\{'II
. 1111
Lmbau " \chute md Grgmwnrt I, •
•
1
l:l6. Quoted ttl flrron . ..Schrrlrdorm." r:lh .
115
1M II AIIO"' A:-ID POLl"! ICS: REDEStt:NtN(, Moll~.RN C~. HMANY
r.·duration after the Hfcu·
Wells, declared that the first three years of the occupation had focused far much on institutional change and had been "m01 e or less devoid of an cational and cultural relations effort."''' For Crace, "tlw tnw reform of (,et man pt' ople will come from ''ithin. It will be spiritu.ll and moral. t\pes of sdwol organization or structure. for c·xample. are of less· to the futme of Germany and the world than'' hat is taught. how it is .tnd h\ whom it is taught."'·" Grace immcdiateh threw himself into building up the ntlttu.tl exchange programs between Germany and the Lnited States for whtch Wells had laict tlw foundation.''' Clay. wary of the German reaction to school reform and now co minced of the possibilities of exchange progt am ... soon ended the school reform initiatives.'" Thus, although Grace had a Mrong interest in American influence on German education, his <>mphasis on the cultural ex change approach marked a dear shift away from the functional equivalent approach to institutional transfer which had characterit.NI the previous two years of dTons. If their effectiveness is difficult to measure, the exchang<.~ programs certainly proved enduringly popular. 71 Richard Merritt argues that although dites raged against "Americanization," most Germans were indifferent to such charges and certainly thought they could learn something about de· mocracy from the Americans. The public opinion data he employs generally suggest that average Germans favored OM GUS programs for promoting de· mocracy and even if ignorant of those actually being implemented, would re· ply (when ask.ed) that they thought such projects would work. n In any event, both laudatory and critical accounts of the exchange programs agree that their rise marked the end of a sustained effort at S< hool reform. 7 ~ Thus, wherea.~ u·ips to America comp!.nnented the institutional u ansfet efforts in the industrial relations case, they were a substitute-a lallbad.. position-in the education case.
h i. Ihut. 110. Cr<1<e had be!'n ( Oillllli'>'>i<>n<'r o f edut.tttnn
IR\
111 (
.onm•tti< 111 bdm<' join in~ the
.
liH. Quoted in ibid .. 142. h onicalh, C,, are 1nigned OH'I the dt•t "ion, t'\t'l. imi"t"d 1hat thl" docnment maxi milt' ( :e1 mau pow<·• iliHI aut hot ity. li\1. ·knl (Ali\\lou tm thr {(hint•) ~hows that pteviom ell
116
su.£1\T PARn-~:Rs: QRGANIZFD
Trn: OMGUS FAII.UIH: TO R~.CRtliT A.lt.n.s
f-{ow did the OMGL'S agenda o( encouraging German actors to develop acceptable and endming school rd(~rm de?~n~rate into a fran~c and failed ..cries of orders to condurt ont' vns1on of It:' \\as there potential for such a fonn~ If so. why did it go unu..,t·d? ro answer these questions, I look at ERA :rort-' to measure and win suppon Irom German public opinion, intermediate associations. and politid that public perception of a need for reform had shifted oYer time: although 62% of the 650 people queried thought the traditional schools and curricula were adequate to meet the needs of German vouth under normal conditions, 44% still thought that the education of the child was dependent upon the wealth and status of the parents (12% agreed \lith both statements). Evt'n in this conservative stronghold only 30% of respondents thought no connection existed between socioeconomic background and educational opponunitv. Of course, such len·ls of concem did not necessarilY mean that the German public was open to substanual institutional change. After all, even if 44% agreed that socioeronomiC statm affected educational opportunity, that rather abstract connection wa.., sull a f.u crv from endorsing reforms that could close the ,;uage school. Cnfonunatelv. 0:\1GCS had no way to measure the strength of re!>ponde•m' ronvictions and little sense of the stability of German public opinion. As U.<). olliciab learned when the Catholic clergy began opposing school reform fmm tlw pulpit, other actors could shift these opinions. Yet the ERA did little to comince the German public about the importance of education reform; it~> dl'orts w<."re modest, late, and ineffective. Only with the transition to cultural exchangt• programs was there a substantial increase in "grassroots" work by the (th<.'n larger) Education and Cultural Relations division. 7 '' Moreover, the ERA had dilliculty getting Ministry of Culture personnel even in H<>ssen and Br<."men to stump for their own reform plans bei4. \1nritt. lirmormr; lmfm\ld, 27'>. i5. l..ange-Qu'""""~i . Xm111dt11111K. 200.
117
IMr I'AI'ION AND PouTrcs: R~oEsrG:-
Mom:R''I GFR\1AN)
cause, as confrontation grew, such actors often tried lO distance th""'"\:::tVf• publicly from American policies in order to maintain their own In distancing themselves, politicians were probabl} less impressed by surface ambivalence of public opinion than by the focused opposition of tain organited interests. For if the public was large!} indiflercn t to school f(mn. the many associations surrounding German educational politics were not. Even in Bavaria, alternative school reform plans abounded: ~1inistn of Culture, the main parties, the universities of ~1unich and Iangen, the Bavarian Academy of Sciences, both Catholic and churches, the teachers' unions, and the chamber of commerce all dev school reform plans. 7 ti But although original U.S. planning laid education reform squarely at the feet of Gennan actors, OM GUS developed few tools to encourage and influence the groups most concerned with education. Even while it was still organizationally weak, the ERA did encourage /JiradPreducation ofllcials to involve other "affected panics" (especially teachers) in formulating reform plans, but only in H essen, with its long reform tradition, did such a step occur from the beginning. When OMGUS returned the first school reform drafts to each Land in the spring of 1947, it again repeated the instruction to consult affected social groups. 77 Wi.irttembergBaden's second draft was heavily criticized for not creating the local commit· tees that were supposed to help devise curricular and organizational reform. Wtirttemberg-Baden did not begin to institute such committees until after the third and most confrontational round of school reform. Bavaria, also a holdout in this regard, used the lack of curriculum commiuees as a way to retard progress.'x In the end, OMGUS proved organi1ationally incapable of promoting an inclusive and democratic formulation of '>Chool reform pol· ic\. It "as that failure which led to its undemocratic eflorts to dictate such policies. l\'ithin the educational establishment itself, associations of school psychol· ogists and other agencies that provided senices to schools tended to favor school reform but to be cautious in their support, often withdrawing from politici.ted issues into more narrowly professional oncs. 7' ' The associations of ~'ol~sclwlm teachers and of vocational schoolteachers too tended to support proposals for longer elementary and more common schooling, whereas the associations of teachers and administrators or Gymnasim and other higher schools generally opposed them. In Wurttembcrg-Baden, after the scltulm teachers charged the higher school teachers with inciting the op lion of pupils-and, by extension, their parenL~-lO reform proposals,
76. St>t> clw 1 nsiom reprinl<:"rl in f)okummt' zur Srhuh"Pfmm 111 Un~n 11, c·d. I Lm' Mt>rkt Ric h,ud Pflaum , 1\152). 77. lluon , "&hulrt>fo•m." 104. 7H. Ibid .. 117. 79 l All\ \(111 , Uf[orm. 9H.
118
Edttcation afta tlu> War
. ·onalists accused these primary school teachers of being "collaborators tra dttl ccupation force~ ancltherdore · · · 1at " h er Ian d ."'"' Th e·Astrallors toth err 0 · of th · I S\'Sthe tra d.ruona . e. or Hirrher School Teachers in Hessen defended S()Clauon n • . . . . . historically proven and brologrcallv natural: far from us excludmg tem. das : dasse-. (clas-.es whose ven exrstence · ·m th c "a · ke o f the . 11 of cenam chi1 1 e · . · th I ·f ·d "-ar's destruction thcv often denwd) . tlw ee w~s ~rmply that e .ess gt te. and )e-.s industriom cxcluckd themselves. Ass~crauon members.reJeCted.the charge of authoritarianism in ~edago~. arg~nng that too man~ group~ ~nd organizatio ns had oversight or rnvolvement 111 the modern school for 111)~~uncmTrecl Thn also celebrated local control as an altername tice to go lo ng · . . , . . . dulling uniformitv of a nauom~1de common school \\hrch, the} sa1d, to th c • . . . . ""' ran counte r to subsidiarity, tiH' "groundmg pnncrple of the unrverse. Although Catholic and Protc!>tant churches both opp~sed school .reform. Catholic opposition proved most sustained and damagmg. Occ.upatron clashes with church officials seemed to bring out the worst on both s1des. I~ crediblv, OMGUS appointed as chief U.S. negotiator on school reform m Bavari; an ex-priest who was married to an ex-nun; this move e.nragecl the Catholic hierarchy and further undercut the legitimacy or Amencan school reform cflorts therc.K~ As conflicts grew, proponents of reforms similar to those called for by the ERA were careful to distance tlwmsclves from the Americans. For example, the Bavarian Teachers' Association (BlY), in the foreword to its school reform plan of 1947, emphasitcd that its propos~l for a co~mon school was not an opportunistic attempt to ride the Amencan coattarls but.a ~Ian that -gre" rather out of the pedagogical traditions of the BLV and srmtlar associations and for the realitation of which distinguished pedagogues ha\'e long fought. ~~ The shift hom persu.t..,ion to threats of force also, at least in Bavaria, undercut the ERA's -.chool reform allies in the SPD because the party then lost its active role in pushing rcfm m in the parliament. Clearly, the Bavarian SPD was panicularh weak. as evidenced by the CSU's abili.t) to keep the bill out of tht· parliament for so long (indeed. in the final analysts the parliament simph approved a (kal ahead\ struck between Clay an~. Ehard) ."' But the shift to threats of forre lclt the SPD vulnerable to the collaborationisC charge. leading it to distan< e itself visibly from OMGUS .pr~posals. When it came to srhool reform, unions were the dog that dtdn t bark. ·. . f Though the st·ntlar unions had long advorated the democrauzatron o schools as a complcnwnt to their cflorts to democratize the economy, they !\0. Qn01cd in kill . \II\ \IIIII 1111 t/11 Hltim . 22\l. . . ·~ q 81. ". \ 1/grm••tt" Jluht/111 wn" of tht· IIIIUltll'l'llHIIIrlf It 11111 fiil 1/ii/wre .'ichu!Pn, Septemhc• I. • 1· 17· H2. Te nt . •\1111um ou tlw Jlhllll'. I :l'l- 10. 83. \1e •kc. /)o/oumwlt ~Ill \tllltfll'/111111 , 11~1 . . < ~. ~4. Th m n . ··s, hut 1e i 01111 ," 120. I h 1• Sl'll h.1cl inu odu< t>cl ,, '( hool1 <:"form h11l on.Juh 17. 1.1·1/ • it included ,1]] of th l' l'"""i"n' ~ R \ " •" t n"hin~o:. hut it 1\ t' llt n01du:Ie : l\krkt, /)okJtmnll' : 111 'it:hulrtform. !11 - 107.
119
IMITATION AND PouTrcs: REDESIGN IN<. MorwRN
(;FI~\1A'
Education af!er tlu War
~ere rductan_t to e~gage in school reform disputes. given their concerted Ions to orgamze rehgwus workers in the new dcconfcssionalized unions U.S. occup<~ti~n's ~ducation ofTicers, drawn heavily from the ranks of school admrmstratron, seem never to have bother <.'d to look for · support for their reforms. despite the long tradition of German union port for common schools. A glance at .\merican education vis-a-vis offers an inu·iguing possible explanation for thi!> oversight. In -.vu"-"''""" perspecti\e, America's early guarantee of ecluc,ltional access meant difficultv in incorporating labor politics into t•ducation,tl supervision. ~)ro~der_labor movement remained a weak player. ,md its already thin •pau?n m American education-channeled almost exclusively throu h role rn municipal political machines-was fatallv weakened after the the centuq when schools were "progressiveh" inMrlated from influence. As Ira Katznelson and Margar<•t Weir have noted. there was wor_king class political movement or part) !>}Stem capable of successfully 0 po~r~g ~h~ dissoci~,ti?n. o_f school administration from municipal politic~ a drssoClatron that d1mmrshed the chances workers had to shape their childr.'en's schools." As a result, working-class capacities in this area quickly eroded alter the Progressive era.H'> Even when supportive German groups were identified, the ERA had dif~iculty using them to promote reform. The "working groups for new schools• 111 Ilessen c_onsisted of ~Ieven expert committees in three broad areas (primary, vocatwnal, and hrgher schools). The 229 members met 202 times in various groups and generally supported ~choolrcform.'"' It turned out, however, _that these committees were more useful in encouraging smaller innO\ auons such as student councils than in helping OM GUS and Minister of Culture Stein secure public support for schoolrdorm. When resistan ce stiffened, Stein channeled the working groups into a new form, the Landesschulbeirat (LSB)- These "Land school councils" were subordinated to his ministry and de~·oted to c~u:ricular reform instead of institutional change.ll7 Once pulled mto the mmtstry, the} largely ceased to be a source of original ideas for the structural reform of schools. ERA officers concentrated their limited energies on altcrnatelv lobbying and threatening officials in the Ministry of Culture. but even "succ~ssful" Iobbyir~g wa<; often just a prelude to later backtracking b} the min is try. Stein's ex· ~enence when he endorsed the inclusion of the six-vear elementary school ~~ the draft law of 1948 offered a stark illustration of the dangers of allying wr_tl~ ?MGUS. Even though his government coalition partners in the SPD cntrcued the rest of the draft for not pushing th(~ common school agenda
t!n
H~. lr.J KavrH:Imn and 1\fargall"l Weir, Stlwollllf: /111 Ill ( !'\<·w \(,k: B.mc· Hoob, 1985), 93. Hh._ 1 he cmb of the~e groups. whic h anHHllllecllo 10,000, <"idl\m,uJ...,. welt' p.oid main I) frorn ,\•nencan 'ourc-e\. H7. 1\1lthlh.Ju~en , llessm. -170 -7~.
120
ore aggressively. his own COLT caucus publicly criticized the six-year elentar)' recommendation; mmeover, the Catholic church, all four Ilessiar me- ersities and .1 number o 1· parents· an d teac h ers' assoCiations · · opposed 1· unrv ·· ·giH "" In this ca~e. the school working groups could offer scant suppor · _ . . . . . 0 utrJ the minisH·r ,md httk help m pubhClnng the plan and breaking down op to sition. Thus. C:\<'n in tlw Land where the ERA dedicated the most materia pod per~onnel n·,ourH•s to <,timulating debate and contributions from civi :ciery. the forum it created wa~ too disconnected from the public to be, abl< to support a ( 'Dl' mrmster_ dedtc,~ted to scho~I reform. In short, in power. since any Land goven ment in< Iint·cl to tr > to .,ell a thoroughgoing school reform would hav needed sub.,tantial help from OMGL"S in doing so-help that the ERA\\< unable to prmick. given its originally low organizational statusY11 Educatio "insider.," ~uch as Christian Paulmann failed, whereas an education poli< neophvte such as Alois llundhammer succeeded in blocking school reforn
tfl
!!X lh ul . l i:i-7ti. 1!!1 . ln h n llliol lt-llt'l I<> Fcl\\,lld l.i l< hllt'lcl , \uW"' 14. 194!!. CJliOtcd in l'hron. "~.!. 90. I h. II ,l.llu,_ .1g.1in. g1t'\\ c>lll ol 11' cu •g llla l mand,lll' 'imph to on•1'n' (,eJlll.lll 1d
121
I\11'JAIION A 'ID P01.111CS: REDESIGN 1M.
Mon~.RN c~. Rl\IAN\
At bollom, neither the Social Democrats, the rdormist Chri~tian Democra nor the Amc_ricans made education a high priority and devoted substanti~ 1csomces to It; when they encountered organi1ations that didfc>eus on ed ~ . cauon. the\ all ran into a buzz saw of opposition.
()KrRsH~tn. s Wol\, CAstPAIG~s LosT
0\lG~ 1S ~fforts to achieve i_nstitutiona~ transfer befoH· the end of military occup.1~1on m 1949 dearly fatled. Nor d1d thes<' eflo!ls appear to stimulate domesuc proponents sufficiently to bring about indigt·nous tdorm there:llter. Through most of the 1950s the school reforms promott·d b\ the AmerICans ~nd long pushed by the SPD literally disappear<'dliom the agenda. Already m_ ~ts 1948 program the SPD had dropped its explicit opposition to the traditiOnal three-track system, although it did continue to call for the sixyear elementary and free tuition and materials. When I kssen returned a solid SPD majority in November 1950, the party made no moves toward further school reforms, and in its 1952 program even the d<'mand for the sixyeat elementary school was removed. Unlike institutional innovation in indl~s.trial r~lations, w~ic~ continued throughout the 1950s (especially on questiOns of codetermmatwn), school reform gave way to a consolidation of the German three-track system. . Yet beginning in the late 1960s, common schools (Gt'\fmltschulnz) were mtJ~>duced as experiments in several German states. By 1990justunder 10% of (,erman secondary pupils were enrolled in Gt'Jamt~rlw/m. Did the breakthroug.h build upon the abortive efforts of the occupation period, or is it mm e hkely that the occupation failures postponed and weakened the common school movement? Since the ERA was at least able to change educational fcmns and practices less central than those of the school structures thems<'lves, didtts victo ries in what Lindquist had called "minor skirmish<'s." taken together. constitute a substantial American contribution to the reform of C<-rman education? Despite the incllectivcness of institutionali1ed school rcfm m, that a host of changes occurred in German primary and secondary educ.Hion after the war is b(·y<md dispute. For example, besides the end of tuition and materials charges and the upgrading of teacher training in Bremen and Hessen, dur· ing and aft<'!' the American occupation the teaching of social studies was in· creased in scope and deepened in content.91 I Iealth education, as called for
'l I. thid .. ~:n- 10; ht"o t' too. howen·o. the ,\nwo i< aoh ,ufl<•o ('(I mam
"hat <'<<<'lltooc <:ho i'tian pt'dagogues who had ht•t·n pu,lung , C"l.ltt'd idt•a, ,;II<,. tht• \\'t·uoar f'l'IIC>d ,
122
Education ajtl'l' the V\0r
in ACA 54, became a part of the accepted curriculum in most Lander. And at the university level the United States promoted the addition of social sciences such a'> political science, economic"s, and public opinion research-although in practice ('..ermans continued to conreptuali1e social science a<> a part of German philosoph} rathe1 than American science. '2 The only available data concerning the sources of these changes were gathered in 1962 b\ Robert Lawson. an American doctoral student in education. (-{is sun·c~·s of teachers in Hessen. Hamburg (British LOne), and Bavaria re\'eal the complexities of dist·ntangling educational policy influences but shed much light on institutional transfer as a mode of institution building. Lawson first catalogued a range of changes in German education from 1945 to 1962. But although the changt''- conespond well to items called for in ACA 54, Lawson noted that thi1. finding alone is no evidence that the Allies actually caused them. Consequently, he developed a questionnaire that he sent to teachers and administrators at fifty-six urban and rural schools in all three Uinder: twenty Gymnasien and thirty-six Volksschulen or Mittelschulen. A total of 300 questionnaires brought some 150 responses from thirty-seven schools.'':' Lawson asked his respondents to list the live most important changes in the German school system since 1945, to designate the sources of those changes, and then to evaluate the overall influence of occupation policies.!'~ The five changes judged most important by his respondents-university level teacher training. free schooling, free instructional materials, the introduction of social studies, and the reform of the upper level of the Gymnasium-reflected key American goals but did not include tl1e central goal of increasing common schooling.'"' Lawson then invited the 1cspondents to code the changes they considered important as ~pringing eithe• hom "educational thought before 1933,~ "foreign influence during the occupation period,~ or "new ideas independent!, de\ eloped b\ German educators after 1945." Interesting!), although some respondents complained that it wao; difficult to distinguish between pre1933 and post-1945 de,elopments, none apparently had difficulty sorting out post-1945 foreign-influenced development<; from post-1945 "independently German" ideas. One possible explanation is that most respondents, like Lawson himself, saw the changes then afoot as driven by the necessities of mod92. Da1irl St.tle~. "In \\'how lnlOI).(I'f Knowkdge. Social Scienct: and Democracy in Occupied <.ermany, 19 t:l - l!l~o!\" (Ph.D. eli".. Ohio Stall' lniH'I\itv. t99~1). 93. All tht' Cal hnlil' st't'otHiat 1 "hool' 1du~cd 10 p.trticipatt', and Lawson received from ~cv· era] unwilling ot'sponcleoHs wo ittc·n oehutt.tl' to the pn·sumption that ;uch influences could be ascertained, if indt"t'd th<'l exi\lecl at .tit . . .94. It is \IIKit'II . Illxperience. 9:>. Loll,,on, Rtfmm, I t 1-l ">. llw ol tht· "x-vt:at ekmentao 1 was good for thil lv-lit 't PL'lce, right alter'' hok ""' d 1 <·ading" .uHIIIt'\.t to "ontl'lll.ltional contact." Common '>nondao v schools, of cotll'>t', h.td neH'I .11 tu.ttl\ bt'<'ll 1111pkmented .md did not mal..<: the list.
IIH'"'"''
123
1M nAT 10' AXD
PouT1cs: R~· DESIGNJN<.
Molli.KI\ CJ.KMAI\ y
Education after the \1nr
cmitation, which Germans could presumably apprc·ciate independent f(m·ign influences.'"' In actuality, though, the fitct that Cc1 man during thi), period did not appreciably converge on that of other nations makes it less plausible that Germans were pa1 t of a broad wave mult<meous dbcovery. as their collective answers and L.n...son\ analysis implied. '· l .awson's respondents generally thought that the ,\Jiies had had a "'v, urw.• 1 impact (as opposed to negative or none) on Cennan edu<,tllon. yet the) side red the magnitude of that impact quite low. Futthe•, the·\ almost attributed innovations solei) to the occupation; rathct, in those areas f(u cign influences during the occupation were judged important, were always seen as also linked either to pre - 193:~ cdur c·xamplc, was regarded as "accepted" but attributed 10 older German precedents and to the evident needs of the postwar situation. The inception of local parent councils was likewise "credited to the occupation period but traced back to early German ideas." Student councils, on the other hand, ran up not only against teachers' authoritarian mores but also against their susp icion of organized young people after their expcrienc<' of the Hitle r Youth In addition, the functions of the new student councils remained opaque, since German schools were not offering the range of activities that U.S. student councils help oversee. 9 >l Lawson also acknowledged strictly voluntary institutional imitation: "AAl dav schools ras opposed to the half-day German norm I \\{'I e introduced bel<>rc the war, but the new interest in them after 1945 was .said [by his inter view panners] to be stimulated by information on American practices. This is an example of an area where information on American practice was influ entia! but unrelated to occupation plans." Lawson\ respondents also noted the internal "liberalization" of authorit} relations in schools at both teacheradministrator and teacher-student levels. These improved relations too were attributed to older German ideas given new "impulse" 1)\ Amer ican efforts. LlWson's approach suggests that institutional transfer has two modes: ideal or influences from outside may be a catalyst to existing ideas that push those indigenous plans forward, or outside impulses mav bt· trul) new, in whicb fase they must be adapted to local conditiom. 1'H' Lawson's vi<·ws on arc thus very much in line with the concept of pulling in !(>reign instituti
\16. See ihicl .. 10!1-:Hi.
97. On <'Oill<·rg-t>nn-.
'l"<" Friu Ringer. Fr/umllon 111/(/ .'ionP/) m Almlnn J:wopr (Hioorni lncli.rna llniH·r,itr Prt>\\, 1979), 250-6[>. t t l.
111
dels. But because his work is fundamentally a history of ideas, not of the
~itical inlluence and strategies behind those ideas, it is susceptible t~ the
po toloCT\ that institutional tramfc1 worked when Germans accepted 1t. At tall n: .. this limit. in,titutional tt .tmlC• bcconws a purely cogn•uve phenomenon. For e.xamplc. L1wson argues that "the points of [AC'..A] 5~, inasmuch as they took earlier German n:fonn cllons. or 1 espond to soCtal-educauonal needs of ~ £\,|
5
10]. Law-.>n, Rrfmm , ~10 . 102. Lange-Quas'"'''ki , ,\i 111111/lllm!:, ~(lfi -7 103. Michael Ia\ lor, f'd11w/um 11rul\\mk 111/hrli·rlna/ Rrfmhilr o[(;,rman) ( London: Anglo·Ct'rlllan Foundation fot lh<' Sutch ol lnch"u ial '><>< tt'l\ . 1\IH I ). I:H -:li.
124 125
IMIIAliON AND
Pouncs: Rt:DESIGNINC
MonhRN GhRMANY
in Gennany is speculative; to sustain it would require more research into SPD's reasons for dropping reforms oriented toward achieving sn movement in the late 1960s, as evidence that the United States helped build a cornmunin. of r~f?rmers. But even tho~gh Hessen (and Bremen) did have strong reform tradu10ns that rebounded m the 1960s and even if the United States built the Hessian reform community in small ways, OMGUS. by discrediting the reform project in large ways, had set it back. And when the Cesamtschutn, we1·e eventually started, their architects generally looked to British and Swedish models, not American ones. 105 The Cesamtsdwlm movement received strong boosts from public dissatisfaction wi th the traditional system, from political support in several Lander, and from demographic trends that allowed it to build its own new schools instead of trying to convert existing ones. Yet despite these advantages, the schools have attracted less than I 0% of western German pupils. Complicated disputes about the vices of contemporary Gtumztsrhulen aside, the purported virtues of "common schooling" can never be tested when the schools enroll such a small residual of pupils. 11"' The immediate post-1945 period was a unique moment of supntcla~s thinking among German political elites, with "union" parties, "unitary~ unions, and the ..politics of productivity." The window of opportunity for ~upporters of common schools in Germany may never again be as wide as in the first postwar months, and for those supporters any positive effects of trying arc surely secondary to the larger disappointments of failing.
CoNCLUSION: CuLTURE AS A STRATEGic TooL
Rather than make a normative appeal for or against common schools. I have analyzed the effectiveness of policymakers' usc of institutional transfer. I 0 I. (;1,1111\ (Kontiuuitiit, 260- 62) argues that allli ·CommuniM ~rhol;u, inrma·ctly pamt~ (,I)R tonuuou .\chool a; exclusively a producl of ··smit"Li~;uion" ;md ignmr•cl the vi1tuall)' tlllanimom intr·nt of the Ge•man exile left to implcmeul common ~d10ol~ iu 1h • poMww pniod. 1 ICl!i. Col
I he
I Ofi. \1o\t \tudin ~how that (ri:~amtsrhull'rl pupils ann their p.u t'nh ;ut· '•ltt\lit•d with the eclu <.tltou ).(iH·u in the\t' \chools. But of course their contril)lllion 10 \Ortt'tl'· widt• clemocratuation ,flld tolt-r;ul(t• i., impos,ible to ao;cenain with confidence whcu common\( hooting 1en1.1in\ \O un COilllllOII FOJ ( llliti\111> of r~samtschulnr, see Heinrich \\'ou.aw.t. (,I'Lfllllllrllll(l·. 11il\ \If !llll u•tri.Utll lnmg1 ( l>tl\\ddOJf. ~hwann. 19R2).
Education after the War
t1 a coalition What t c• Americans. urged in the name of democratization, · · d Iof forces succes~fullv rcsi'>ted a~ a lowenng of educauonal standar s. n c;erman · fl ex1·b·1· II . US reform poliC\· showed suffioent 1 II)' to a aJJ .Jts p1MSeS, . · school · . . , ow a fi01. ( ' erman traditions and the excepuonal postwar Circumstances, and lace ' . . · -1 f p tential partners fm this project existed on the German le~t and center e L p<> ng some clements of tht· right. Yet U.S. reforms failed because U.S. and amo . · · · d b ·td· . , ~ 1 s indecisive. mconsistent. and msuffioently dtrecte at Ul mg stratC~ '' · · · I artners h .If)s f·<,r sch<>ol refmm · fhe American failure . . to secure msutuuona . p fi 11 in coniunction with tht• ensuing econom1c m1racle and a gro\\mg Ilare~. ~ . bor supply. meant that German educa~onal reform dtd not reappear on t 1e national agenda in an\ serious wa) unul_ the_ ~arly 1960s. . . . Internal disagreements about the des1rabthty of transfernng U.S.-•~sp1red cturcs to German\' foreclosed anv chance OMGUS had for a raptd start. between punisl1ing Germany and rebuilding it, officials allowed a · · · · to th e Germ ans Jorn compromise position ceding the structural reform I?Illauve to dominate the crucial initial period. Only when 1t became cle~r that no bstantial reform would be forthcoming did OMGUS respond; as •n _the case relations, institutional transfer was its reaction to It saw as problematic or inadequate indigenous reforms. But for the ChnstJa~ Det~o crats and the Catholic church, the notion of "org~nic" ~truc_tures m wh1ch institutions reflected deeper featmcs of human sooety (t_n ~·s cas~, natural differences in human abilitv) quickly became a code to JUStify reSIStance LO the American project of imtitutional reform. 1" ' O~ce OMGUS had surre~ dered the organs of control, de\'otcd its few educauon resources to the physical reconstruction of the tr~tditional ..,vstem, left longume refo~m sup~orters to their own de\'ices, and made onh '>mall efforts to \\in new alhes, al11ts lat~r efforts-howe' er detNmined -were dee pi) compromised. Thus. the fle~l bili!.) shown during the subseqm'tlt attempt at instituti_on~ ~sfer _(begi.n~ ning in 1947) ,,as ncuu,tlitcd. and the reform potenual m ~lVll soc1et) \~as largelv ignored. In tht· end, OM<.t:S bacl..ed down from forcmg changes on demo~raticalh elected gmernnwnts, abandoned tl1e effort for school reform by 1949. and shifted o
~
:~industrial
':h~t
126 127
[MilA liON AND POLI1 ICS: REDJ::SH.i'ili\C.
:\tout Rr-<
G~ RM.\N)
sion." 11 ~t
But again, the occupation had great difficult\' exploiting SPD port f01 its basic objectives. ciCtuaJh splitting the part\, and engendered hostility of the CDU. As in the case of education, traditionalist.~ damned proposals as destined to result in lower quality. In this case, too, OMGUS sorted to efforts to impose .t legislative settlement (:\fG Law 15). which Germans countered with t•ndless delaying t.tetics. Finall~. after conti the struggle into the first Adenauer administration, the Americans gave and the result was a Jack of institutional reform. Did u·cmsfer in education polin fail as a n·sult of cultural resistance? is clear by now that such a conclusion runs the risk of confiating the · of Catholic educators and the indifference or the general public. It secma more accurate to '>
Edumtwn ajtn thf' Uar
tirning; budgetary concerns in the postwar demobilization limited funds for the occupation.tt' And against the backdrop of an inconsistent and und<'rfundcd policy, an} legitiman that American t•ducational institutions possessed bv virtue of their ab~>tract association with the American democracy and cwnomv was quickh negated b\ the kinds of concrete steps OMGL'S took to implement the polin. I hold that policymakers' flexibility and the prior organization of non-state actors .u e important prerequisites fot building coalitions to support tramfen·ed lll'titutiom. Yet although the l..S. occupation fonc~ found a rea~on ably \\t'll-organited ~>et of Gt•rman actors and used fiexibilit} in urging them to adopt American functional designs, they still failed mi~erably. For a fighting ch.uH t • at cff<.·ctive institutional transfer, 0:\IGL'S would have needed to maJ...L' a fairly explicit-and partis.m-coalitton \\ith the Germ.tn left, tlw only wmistent advocate of common schools.t 1'1 This finding presents an opportunit' to clarifv my broader argument fut ther, for it poses an obviou~ choice: add "partisanship" a'> a third independ<:n t ,·ariable. or be more cleat that the two factors I emphasite have probabilistic weight but do not guarantee elfct. adding partisanship puts the cause too dose to the effect: it comes close to '.tying that an institutional change occurs when powerful actors want it to occu1. But rather than focusing just on how laws arc pr which the partisanship variable i., well suited 11 ~ - 1 emphasite the me'" cornplexit:y of actual institutional transfer attempts. Manv times, it seem., , even power·ful partisans get something different from what they were aiming for. Second, panisanship can be quite inefl<.·< tive. For example, in post-1990 Romania, where C.S. programs to promote dcmocran assumed that stn·ngthening "civil society" meant supporting the opposiuon to the barely n·f(>rmed Communist government, partisanship helped sink attempts at institutional tramter. Romanian ministries wne undcrstandablv hostile to L.S. ~ron ign aid" pmgrams designed to encourage organ11ation~ that sought to undet mine the government.'"' In other words, the external validity of the ~artisamhip hypothesis is low; only the contextual factors that I have alreadv •demified (cspec.ialh the Cold \\'ar) make it important here. These two chapters on postwar Germany han· looked at institutionaltrans~er in contexts wlwre there were deep political disputes about the workabilIty of f(u t'ign models. The'>t' political \truggles among groups of \Jlies and 112. I 'I''"' i,rlh· al!et I he Repuhlic ''"'tool.. ( :oug;r '""in I !116.
th 1.1 \. I hi'
109. l\od1ling, Qlll'\/ton. 252.
I 10. D<·nnis Bar).. .rml David Ct l""· A HiIIIII\ oj \\elf l:nml/11) ({hlmd: Basil Bl.t< I<.well, I I: 169. Ill. hu more on j.lp.m. 'et' \rnolc! Hcicknhcrmer,/)11/Hlrfllf' /.ndtlt·l\. II "h) ~rlu~<•l and l'nlinP\ /)11/t't 111 (';nmtiii)• .Jflpanmul \Mtznlmul ( '\cw Brumwill... NJ. T'r.rmaction, 1!197), 55
128
j,, of tout'< (Hl"tt'c·h \\h,n llw ,rchocal.-, ol 1-(t·l"·rooh unioni,m uic·clw do 111 e tndlhlrr.clrd.Hicnh r.-lo1 tlh clc·I,\ilc-d in <.lup!C'I .I. Th.ll !he·\ \\l"rt· lit •·cllor 1h1·it c·llmt' j, .Ill• Olher ir I ·rent t t1.11 · c t C"l.,ttnplc•,, "·c·1lw drflu,ion lilnatutc• H"\il"WI'cl ttt ( :hapH·r I. O ~I:>. '-<·r I homa' C,tt
".\I
129
IMI rArJON AND POLITIC~: REDLSI<.''IINC: 1\[0JH RN (;~. RMANY
Germans, both before and during attempts at 11 anslt'r, also overlapped some extent ,~;th historical struggles li·01n the Wdmar period and earlier so problematize what might be called the "eN.>nti;\li,t" view of i ll ansfer. In the essentialist viC\\, imitation is an all or-nothing prospect: it curs if and onl) if policymakers are struck more or less out of the blue the genius of a foreign design and then set about to replicate it from in their own society. \\'hen one considers the old and '
CHAPTER FIVE
Industrial R elations in Eastern Germany: The Politics of Imitation ;\/o experiment\! -Pmmint'nl slogan in the campaign for the first democratic GDR election, March 1990
In the immediate aftermath of World War II most Germans agreed that significant changes were in order, but opinions diverged on how to reform structures inherited from twelve years of Nazi rule. Since Allied functional equivalent transfer was mediated by postwar civil society, many of the results bore at least a resemblance to traditional institutions. This was cer tainly true in secondarv !>chools, where tramfer failed, but it was also true of industrial relations, where transfe• was much more effective. Mter German reunification, ell.pcctations were diiTerent: the slogan "No experimen ts!" captured nicel) the pervasiYe determination of eastern Germans to have the ~real " \\'est German svstem, not some third way between capitalism and Com munism. And the West German government's ambitions for institutional transfer also were much higher than those of the Allies after 1945, for they sought not mere functional equi\alent transfer but rather the exact transfer o~ vir~ually their entire system. Yet a process built on the exact transfer of inSlltuuons-"No experim<·nts!"-has unexpectedly required widespread experimentation. Pulling in structures from the outside demands more than ~he enthusiasm of the populace; it requires actors rooted in society who monLto.r institutional problems and authoritatively call upon the energies and loyalttes or citizens to llx them.
CoLLAPsE As PRoBLEM, I Ns J'l'l'lJTIONAL TRANSFER As SoLuTION
Whereas the end of the ;-J;vi regime had been widely foreseen since the Battle of Stalingrad, G<·r man reunification came with stunning swiftness (sec 130
131
!Mn.-.no:-. ANI> Pot!TKS: REoP.JG.,tNG ~tootR."' Gt:.RMANY
Table 5. Chronology of kcv imtial e\enL~ in the political economy of reunification Oate Nm·ember 9, 1989
Berlm Wall falls
December 7. 1989
"Round Table" talk.~ begm between CDR governing party and opposition; free elections are announced
March I, 1990
Tmthandamtalt is estabhshl'd by CDR regime
~iarch
9. 1990
Western t•mplo\·en (BdA) and unions (DGB) agree to help estabh~h West Gcrman-stvle collective bargaining in CDR
~iarch
18. 1990
Electoral 'ictory of Alliance for Germany is "idely -;een as popular mandate for reunification
Spring-summer 1990
Wage agreements ~pecify no layoffs until summer 1991
Jul~
GE~fSL'
1, 1990
takes effect
October 3. 1990
Reunification: five nev. \lates are formed on the former territorv of CDR and accede under Article 23 of FRG Basic Law ·
Spring 1991
Wage equalization plam are developed m numerous sectors
Summer 1991
First wave of large lavoiJs begins
Febnmry 1993
Metal employers unilaterally cancel wage equalintion contract
\pril-~fa\
Stri\..e in me1alwor\..ing sector; -;eulement af1er two weeks
1993
Table 5). 1 Faced with growing external debt, stagnant economic production, and declining support from its own population, the East German state faced an immediate crisis in the autumn of 1989, when thousands of its citizens began leaving by way of Hungary and Ctcchoslovakia. The subsequent collapse of the Berlin Wall in early November led to a series of unsuccessful efforts by the Communist Partv (SED) to retain its leading role. Meanwhile, East Ger· man emigration continued to surge. In February 1990 the West German government offered East Germany an "economic and monetary union.~ ostensibly to forestall the step toward political union. On March 18. 1990, however. elections in the GDR returned large pluralities for the Alliance for Germany, which had close ties to Well Germany's ruling COU, and the election results were widely interpreted as a mandate for reunification. A partial step was taken with the Treaty for man Economic, Monetary, and Social Union (GEMSU), which was on May 18 and took effect on July L But as the economic decline of German firms and the migration of East German citizens continued more less unabated, Bonn decided to move quickly toward full political union der article 23 of the FRG's provisional constitution of 1949, still d
I The ltter.uure nn reunifit.ltion is no" 'er) large. One >llld\ that .1dm•rabl) comb1ne• lt'rn.JI and exte• nal a~pe
132
lndUltrial Relations in EMler II Germany
modestly as the Basic Law. The choice of article 23 reflected a fundamental commitment to remake the East in the image of the West and rejected article 146, which foresaw the writing of a ne\~, all-German constitutjon. The subsequent Unification Treaty, negotiated between representatives of the FRG and the CDR, was signed on August 31, 1990, and took effect on October 3. Tht• economic collapse that helped topple the SED did not end with reunifitation.2 From the implementation of the currency union in july 1990 to April 1991, eastern German production collapsed to less than one-third of J989levels. Employment fell dramatically and has stayed low: the number of person<> in paid employment dropped from just under I 0 million in 1990 to around 6.1 million in 1997.' Registered unemployment has hovered between 1 milhon and 1.3 million since 1993. The actual unemployment rate in the f ast i-. n\ice the official rate of 18%, though masked by massive deployment of labor market policies (sec Figure 3). Significant labor migration (including commuting) to western Germany has also eased pressure on eastern German !,thor markets. Without the huge transfer of western funds, estimated as 750 billion dcutsche marks (OM) between 1990 and 1995, the situation in eastern labor markets would have been even more dirc. 4 For example, in 1997. labor market programs reduced eastern unemployment by 635,000.' These economic difficulties provided the backdrop for a second attempt to transfe1 institutions of industrial relations. The performance of industrial relations in eastern Germany has been a kind of Rorschach test for scholars who have commented on it. Admirers of German industrial relations can find e\-idence or strong firms, creative works councilors, hard-working union officials, and tenacious employer associations. Pessimists can point to deindustrialization. declining memberships, and the fragmentation of established practices. I find optimism and pessimism analytically unhelpful and instead pursue three other points. First, I trace the inherently politicized nature of institutional transfer bv challenging other uses of the concept. Second, I explore the limiLs of the suggestive-but also potentially misleading-concept of the "organitation set," which implies that institutions can be transferred only if packaged together with other, supporting institutions. Third, I evaluate empirically the notion of "exact transfer," which was closely approximated afler (.erman reunification. I develop these points to highlight a striking puzzle: namclv. that reunification, supposedly an essentially conservative process (from the West German perspective), is helping catalyte the largest institutional changes in industrial relations in the postwar period. .2. Charlt·' \lait·l, D11t Pulil) 111 lh, r.astn, Gn llltln imnsjmmatum Proms, 1990 - 1997 (Nu1t·mbt·1g: h·de1.1l LahorO!Iice, 199/l). fig I. 4. K.rrll.irhtbl.lu. '"" dn Framfn· "'dv \farlrtll'lrllrhajt (Cologne: Deut't he1 -lnsuwts-\'t•1lag, 1~13), ·100, 5. B.rch eta!., l.ilbolll Jlarl
133
IMITATION AND PouTrcs: Rlmi'.SIGNINC MonFRN G~'RMANY
industrial Relations in Eastnn
millions
. n dccartelintion, r<'parations, the Marshall Plan, and so on-which the c~pation forces used to influence Germany. Moreover, the accurate obserocuon that there have long been German traditions in areas such as indus~al unionism has unfonunatelv obscured the importance of Allied functional equi,·alent policies in nunming and promoting those traditions while resuicting competing desigm.. The preceding two chapters have argued against an t~ssentiali~t concc~t, in which tran_s~er is seen to implant a wh~lly new instituuonal destgn, and m favor of a pohucal argument that emphasues the impact of transfer on extant though perhaps weak minority traditions. Although institutional u ansfer has emerged only partially from most discussions of the occupation period, the concept has figured prominently in discussions of reunifiration. I argue, however, that even the best descriptive work on reunification has been overly fixated on the East German case and has so narrowed the concept as virtually to empty it of comparative promise. The idea of transfer has e ntered the debate about eastern Germany in three different (and inconsistent) ways. One common usage considers institutional u·ansl'<'r simply a tool wielded by West German actors to colonize the East-a t.cchnique for cutting ofl' indigenous innovation in eastern Germany.1' This approach tends to emphasize that the massive accompanying personnel transfers brought a range of benefits to West German citizens and that \>\'est German firms oflcn purchased East German properties for a song. Although any useful concept of imitation must indeed be able to incorpo rate the interc-;ts of West German acton., this variant of the concept has two fatal flaws: it blends out the enthusiasm-however superficial their knowledge might have been-of t<:ast Germans for West German institutions, and it ignores the fact that West German cash transfers to eastern Germany-which have run at around $100 billion per year-constitute something of a reversal of the not·mal financial relationship between metropole and colony. 7 In sum, this image make~ good copv but ignores those aspects of institutional transfer which appeared, from the East Getman perspective, to be desirable. A second common view i' that transfer is simply the formal process of es· tablishing institutions and pt actices in the East.11 The claim is that institu· tional transfer has worked "ery well because all the formal actors arc present and armed with a legal basis fm action. Problems may still abound, such arguments run, but the transfer itself was quickly and easily effected. My objection is that this usc of the concept narrows transfer to a purely formal 00
10 . - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
9
8
(<~ctual)
Labar
Force
7
employees, self-emrloyed, unpaid family work<•rs, ci\i sen ants, apprentices
6
Labor Demand 5
'Do'Kour.tgt·d worke"' (hidden !,thor fnret·); 111< luck' .til pt·upk """
~l) .ue not registered at the labn1 olfi, ,., tnu .uc.· lnnlm){ leu \\Uil. m h) temporarih ga'e up loolinJ;t fur \\c.nllx·(..tll'-t" uf cii\C.tnUd~t:mc·nt
I
1989
Gf'Y'm01l)'
1990
1991
1992
1993
1991
1995
1996
1997 pro\isional
i'IJ(Im 3. Labor supply and demand in eastern Germany, 198!1-97
Source: H
I NSTITUTIONAL TRANSFER AS A COMPARATIVE CONCI-JYI'
Scholars of the two periods consider<'d in this book have made varied of the concept of institutional transfer. Looking broadly at the q Allied influence on posMar Germany, specialisL~ on the occupation conflated institutional transfer with a range of other actions 134
6. Fran!.. l 'ngt·r. "l..tndnalun e im 0\tt•n," i\'l'llr C!•lflllrhaft-Frankfttrter llefte 40 (1993): 22 12!!. The mo\1 ]W I '""~in• chat ;tt lt't ita I ion of ot'tmification as colonization is Bernd Sc hit mer's no,e) Srh/rlm•f•irH (;llaflr(Fo;m!..luot: Fi~ther fasthc:nbuch, 1994). 7. Murh ol thb mnnt·v h,l\, ol rm11 'l', lltoiH'd hack to the: West German companies that pro· 11 d<'d East (.eo lllekloralm Trrm.l· 0llultum O!lt/1'111\rhltwd,, c·1l. I ft>lmut Wic·"·nthal (Foankhtrt: Campus. 1995).
135
Industrial Relations in Eastem Germany
p;ocess that consists of one or a few legislative act!> or executive decrees l :)90 and perhaps 1991. 9 For example, the excellent article by Tobi btschon and.ot~ers on institutio.nal conti.nuity in the health, researc~ telecommuntcauons sectors dunng reumfication shows that any eft transfer ~reformed" West German structures to the East were blocke:~ts ~hree sectors. by the veto position~ of o.ther players in the sector; as a res~~ ~II thtee cases the state and reumficauon treaties foresaw the 1-to-1 d upli: lion o~ the western system. 10 Although these authors document weU th · tense t~trasect~ral c~mpetition that I call the politics of institutional fer. th~tr ~on~s ts deetd~dly on the process of negotiating the formal desi of th.e msutuuons. Thetr key claim is that in sectors with high!} increm ~ I .. ki en_ c ectston-ma ng. processes and multiple veto point~. the \\estern German sta ~ll'i quo necessanly became the design by default for eastem Germany. Even m ~~~~ e~tre~el~ "e~bedded" case of indu.s~i~l relations. however, p ursuing th< ts~ue of msutuuonal transfer past the mtttal "setup point" reveals a variety of unportant changes that leave the claim of structural continuity ope question. n to
U::
The .th~rd approach is also based on a wealth of empirical research a bout the vanauons across policy sectors and casts transfer as an ideal type. Gerhard Lchmbruch reserves the concept to describe only those sectors-such as health care-where West German regulatory "governance" was extended to eastern Germany. Lehmbruch separates this "transfer" process from three othe~ modalities of institutional change: first, the "indigenous" innovation in the (,DR .between the fall of the Berlin Wall and the signing of the unitv tr~aty, whtch established the basic political institutions of parliamen t, fede;altsm, and local government; second, those sectors where eastern German in~ere.sts ~ave s~ccessfu.Ily ~esisted or modified transfer atte-mpt<>; and third, the mstuuuonal borrowmg processes that have occurred in Eastern and Central Europe. 11 In m't view there are good reasons to adopt a broade-r notion that locates mcs of institutional transfer within each of Lchmbru(·h 's three other modalities. First, it is implausible to argue that some polil) arem arc strictly shape d b} exogenous processes (transfer) while others are shaped only by endogenous
9 Tl · I' . · I · . 1l lltutwna transfer would hold no real nllllfMt,lll\t' prom"t' tweame, tf lr.tn.'h' "Jll'l.ltnhruque of gmernance, then compara1i1i't' 'houlcl \luch the gmt·rumenb dut '"<'II r .uhtt 1harr I he "tool" ibelf 1.0. fohi.t' Rohi.\( hon, Andreas Stucke,Ji'rrgen \\'asem, and Hau.,-( :1·org Wolf. "Die politi~< he Logrk ckr rlnu~dwn \'neinigung und der Institutionentran~ler • Po/ilt11h1• \'mt1•ba!11r chri't %
(1!195):·1:13 ·59.
:•a:
.
uch,
'
~·'
II .• <:~·•.. d I :<:hmbt "Die o.~td,eut.sche Transformation al~ ~tr,uegi · dt·~ lmtiuuio11crr· 1~ .tmft ''· l ht r pnrfurrg unrl A11ukrrtrk. rn lmtttutionf>nbrUiuiiK in Olldt•tlfirlrlmul: /wtllhm rxtmrrr s.tnm1mK."'"II:tl(utd~"amtk. ed. Andreas Eisen and Hellrm11 Wollm.mn (Opl.tden: Lt·'>k<· + Brrdllth. l!l%).
136
1
11 .
nes (innovation). Rather, in any given sector one finds a mix of exogenous d endogenous changes.•~ Second, although Lehmbruch is correct that beaileen January and J uly 1990, GDR decision makers had recourse to "older ~nnan traditions" in redesigning institutions (and thus ha~ no need for u-ansfer). it is empirically difficult to show that they were not stmultaneously . f) uenccd by contemporary West German structures. Much evidence sug1:sts that they were, such as the fact that large numbers of elites- including ~'olkskammer members-favored reunification at ~e earliest possible date. In short. those racing to usc institutional u·ansfer m East German} hardly eeded to wait for the GE~1SU starting gu n .•~ Third, the comparati"e pern . f spective reveal.s ~any pr~cesses in caster~ Germany to be extrem.e ,·anants o oilier cases of tmttauon m post-Commumst states. Lehmbruch htmself shows !hat institutional transfer represented a mechanism that Chancellor Helmut Kohl could use to suspend and circumvent the usual processes of protracted political negotiation familiar to students of the Federal Republic. Under great electoral pressure, Kohl opted for the fastest and simplest route to reunification.l' As noted in Chapter 2, such "problem simplification," especiallv under the short time horizons of e lected officials, is precisely what studen~s of policy borrowing have long seen as a prominent motive for institutional transfer, including cases in Eastern and Central Europe."' Whether transfer is seen as a tool for colonizers, for institutional setup, or for extending West German governance, all three approaches mistake one possibility for the universe of possibilities. Rather than a tool of exogenous change to be sharply contrasted with endogenous change, imitation (even under the extreme duress of an occupation army) can be seen to benefit from a foundation of indigenous tradition. Analysts must indeed keep these indigenous and external sources distinct-and for this, case studies are the onlv possibility-while asking whether the distinct forces come together at some point to make something quite different. Chapter 3 demonstrated that the new hybrid institutions created in postwar industrial relations depended upon Allied support for German pioneers of minority traditions such as industrial unionism or antitrust policv. The question now at hand is, what happens when non-state actors arc extraordinarily weak-perhaps too weak to 0
12. Indeed, as Lehmbntth hrrll\t'll r t'tO!(Illlt''· e f.unili.u horn the CDR period or, more often. tho~{' tku arise out of 1he de•per.tte t'tonornit .111d \udal problcrn> of the region. See hi' "Institullorwn. Irnere,;en und sd.lor alt• Var ia1iorwn in der Tr amfC)tmationsd} namil.. der politischeu ()J.,onomic Ostdeuu.chlands.".formurlfiil SozwljowltutJK :l4 (I 994): $4-:lR. I :t The next chapter ~how' thai (,I)R nlut'ational elite> had begun looking 10 Wes1 German "hool models well before r eunific.uion tillllt' to tht• top of the agenda. 14. Gerhard Lehmbnrch. "Die irnprovisier tt• \'t•tt•inigung: Die dritte Deutsche Republik,"f.P· lWtltan 18 (1990): 463. 13. Robert Cox, "Cr e.lliug \\'elf.11 t' Sl.llt'' iu C1nhoslovakia and Hungarv: \\'hv Policvmakt·r ~ Hor ro" Ideas from the We'>!," (~Jill~ 11mrnt mul Po/u; ll ( 199:3): :H9-64.
137
IMITATION AND
Pou ncs:
Rt.n~}>ICI-.1'1(; .\tom.Rl\ GI::RMANY
pull in outside institutions? hi After all, it is precisely after poliC\ failures that elites arc mo'>t inclined to attempt institutional transfer, and there are goOd reasons to suppose that policy failures might correlate with the weakness or disorganization of social groups.•• Arc policv domains or regions without competent indigenous actors doomed to failure?
THE ORGANIZATION SET AS COMPENSATION?
If institutional transfer during reunification seems disadvantaged by the weakness of eastern German civil socictv, might this weakness not be compensated for I>\ other apparent advantages of reunification? From a theoretical perspective the most important potential advantage is that West German institutions have been transferred as a remarkably complete package. Recall that many students of policy borrowing have bemoaned the poor fit of isolated institutions borrowed from foreign climes. 111 This case is well suited to investigating the thesis that institutional transfer attempts arc especially vulnerable to the organization-set problem. Emphasizing interinstitutional linkages, this perspective sees the outputs of one institution as the inputs of another. Surely, it is hard to think of another case where institutions have been transferred in a package so completely as after reunification. And man} a'>· tute observers of German industrial relations seem to suggest that the insti· tutionalited package functions in eastern Germany as what might be called a redundant system. where weakness in one place is quickJy compensated for by strength in another. The key theme is that the transfer of both rights and norms embedded in West German institutions can act as a compensatory stabilizing mechanism for a range or inevitable problems during the period of "transition." 1' 1 It is argued that even with high unemployment, the legal basis of codetermination and regionwide collective bargaining agreement~ and the employer commitment to extending that system to eastern Ger· many \\ill likely protect labor there from an erosion of the institutional prerogatives it has heretofore enjoyed/' Thus, the "institutionalization" of the
16. A good rnit•,, of civil ~ociet\ in Ea\teln (;t•lm,un I'> Smanne Bt:ntkl, "Chanet·n ctcr Zi,ilge,ell,ch<~h 111 den neuen Bundeslandt'l n." in Om/ltltlmul-01t t•ffr Ort: :lnfllngt'flrr/okalm Pvh Ilk in dm 1/PIInl IIIIIUil'lliiruli'T'rt, cd. Bentlcl", lido nullm.lllll. cllld Dieter Eif3el (Opladt•n, CCIII\<111} Leske + Budoirh, 1995). • 17. .Jw.hua Coht•n a nd joel Roger~ ...Secondan ,\"o \huuak, "Policies That Don't Fit." H>lu-v 'itruilr1}ournaJ 14 (19R5)· I l!l. 19. See, e.g .. l lh oc h Jurgens, Larissa Klilllmg, and I .mwll Ttll ner, "The Tramformauon of In dustrial R('latwm in E.t,lt:l n German1." /ntrmntumnlliiiHit Un.•rnL ( 1993): 229-·11. Swphc:n Sol 1ia, "'Holding tht• Shop Together': Old and 'It·\\ C:h.tllengt·\ to the German S\\tem ol Indu'>tnal Relation' 111 tlw \lod-1!19th- (ZSF working papn ltl. lkdon . .Juh 1993). 20. jiugt·n,, Klmting. and Tumer, "Tramform.llwn," :\.
138
lndwtrial Rewtions in Eastern Gt'rman)•
broader West German industrial rclatiom. wstem ·will likely prevent the de\·elopmcnt of a substantially new and weaker form of labor participation in eastern Germam. This argument also stresses the norms of negotiated adjustment and the ideology. of ~anagemen~·labor cooperation in certain industrial scctors. 21 The findmg IS that ~WcM (,erman managers have learned to cooperate with unions, and the implication is that these processes, whether institutionalitcd or informal, can be largely carried over into eastern Germany. The 1991 decision to equalize wages in the metal sector-a decision that spread quickJy to other sectors-is taken as evidence of this cooperation. Further, the successful defense of this pact by IG Metall, the metalworken.' union, is seen as evidence that unions arc doing well in eastern Gennan\. ' It remain~ rightJ"t obligatory for anyone writing about eastern Gennanv to sa\ that it is still too early to predict the region's economic development, let alone the character of organization!> that ultimately will emerge there. Further, the optimist-pessimist debate about eastern German industrial relations begins to sound like the discussion about whether the glass is half empty or half fnl1. 2~ ll is clear that western German unions and employer associations have done yeoman's work in establishing certain familiar organizations and routines in an economically volatile region. Were institutional transfer a merelv fo1 mal setting-up process, then one could point to the existence in eastern German} of industrial unions, employer associations, labor courts, and works councib and declare the transfer. at least, a ~success." Yet these organi1ations and routines have often foundered in eastern Germany. How 1-.hould one e\'aluate their shortcomings? First, it is necessary to be clear about the difference in aspirations of policy elites in the two periods. Where the post-World War II Allies effectively shifted German industrial relations, they did so on the rather vague basis of "functional" models, which left many crucial details to the Germans themselves. West German aspirations for a wholesale, exact transfer of western indmtrial relations to the East have been more ambitious in scopc. 21 But respc.·c t fo• the magnitude of the endeavor must not obscure the ways that institutional transfer has generated banier!> to its own effectiveness. My prem i~c regarding the transfer of industrial relations is simple: where opti21. "i~>tt"ll Wnc·•. \rgotwting Competltnwt~r<•: l .mplo)mnlt Utfations and OrgafliUitumallmun•tl· lion m C.nm11n) ontltlll' l mttd .\tales (Roston: H.trvanl llmine~s School, 1995), 161-75.
, 22. l.owell Tu1 au·• ... llnilying Cermany: Crisi,, (.emilie t, and Social Partnership in I h(' Ea,t," in \'egotrnting tlu· .\'i"w (;mtltltl)', ed. Turner ( Ithaca, N.Y.: I LR P1 c:ss. 1997): 114-21. 23. l-or 1c·c t'llt stlllllllaiie\, see Carola Frege, ..\\'01kplatt' Relations in Eastern Gcr many altc1 l9!!9: A Co ilit.tl Rnoew ol the Debate." Gn man Poillrr1 am/ .\orrrl\ 15 ( 1997): 65-93; Ri< hard I ly· man, "!ns1 11\lloon.ol I 1 .omler: Industrial Relatiom in 1.1\tt'lll <:c:~manv." 1\om, Emplovnn111111d SoCUI) l 0 (I 'l'lti) · t\0 I -:1'1. 24. I do not unph (or bdic,·e) that \\est Gell\1,111\ ,onwhow cared more than did 1lw ,\lltl'' about the \llltt·" ol tiWII endea1·or and fin tim 1ttlU>11 l<><>l- cllllOrt: lOmprehen\ht• appro.t
139
I MITATION AND POLITICS: REDESH:NING MOOI·.RN GI·:KMANY
mists focu.s on institution~lization and su·~ss as further asseL~ an ideology partnership and cooperatiOn between capnal and labor. I focus on the lor market power to enforce and define those institutional guarantees and ke~p that idc~logy ahead of other c~mmon and less generous notions aboQe llllions that Circulate among West (.ennan managers. J'• The large drops emp~oyment hav~ badly weakened la~or's position. With underemployme: ollioally Ouctuatmg well above 30% m eastern Germany. the regional con~act. s:stem is b_a?Iy strained, an~ eve~ the constitutional obligation to equa&. ue hvmg condiUons across regtons mcrcasinglv appears unreachable.... In short, although labor market weakness docs not explain all the unions' problems in eastern Germany, it stands out as the most significant contextual dif. ference that has bede"iled efforts to make western structures function in the East. Rather than seeing this labor market weakness as an exogenous shock resulting purely from the rottenness of Communist firms or the mendacitvof capitalist employers, this chapter shows that the West German industrial· relations model also functioned as a surprisingly aggressive predator in the new environment of eastern Germany. As it devoured weak firms, the model undercut some of the key conditions for its own regeneration. The point is significant because when talking about institutional design, one must consider very basic points about economic variables as well as su·ictly "institutional" factors.2 7 With reference to the organization-set hypothesis, the case of the exact transfer of industrial relations institutions suggests not that linkages to other institutions are missing-for they have been transferred as well, along with a great many organizational norms and routines-but that since the context is different, linkages transferred intan can be quicklv weakened or even broken. Thus the missing political dimension in the organization-set hypothesis becomes evident. Economic institutions often represent political compromises which must be held in place by competent actors. Some of these actors may have alternative conceptions of how institutions should be designed but are often prevented by other actors from acting on their conceptions. This limitation does not rule out the possibilit} of amicable, cooperative, or positive-sum interactions between, for example, unions and employers, but it does make that cooperation context-dependent. Moreover, as the case re·
2:-). lronicallv, although American management impitt•d m,tn~ Ct'llll,llls ~~:eking to protno!ie a( rept imol.nl by tho~t· who see German unions a.~ too powerfuL 26. The Basic Law includes two different injunction~ to l'<ju<~litt' living st.mdards acro~s the FR(;: article 106, paragraph 3(2), and article 72, paragraph 2. 27. In a simple analogy to another widely adv~:rtised "modl'l," it would make little sense to iJDitatt• Swt•den's act.ive labor market policy wilhout ah.o t.rking into
140
Industrial Relations in .Castern (;ermany
rnkages between institutions and their own memben arc as problematic ,eals. 1 • • . ;IS thOSe among 111SlltUll011S.
•fSACT TRANSH R" IN DESJ(,N AND PRACTICE
killfulh as Chanct:llor Kohl managed the prospects of reunification on As s . " . th d . . mational level he sought to build a consensus tor It at e omesuc the mte • · . · both East and Wel>t Germam. Against the backdrop of a nanonal elecJe\'e I !0 . • ff d . an1 paign. Get mans were promised that no one would be worse o an non c crifice would be unnecessarvK • Kohls • un l'k 1 I · bo th · Iess 1 e y c rum a ut e pam that sa ction of an entire societY received a certam . surface p I aus1'b'l' 1 Ity f rom reconstru . · 2<1 th assertion that the bluepnnt for East Germany was ready-made.- Theree ces would come from private investors seeking to profit from the many <;OUr d . b · ess opportunities in eastern Germany. lnvesunent woul stream m eb usm · Th · West Germany would function as the institutional bluepnnt. e twm cause b · ·1 'J)ars of this logic were mutually reinforcing: investors would c pnmart y p• West Germany. and they would be drawn by the reassurance o f"1am1')'tar from institutions while helping to build these institutions further through the acts ofinvestjng and doing business in the region. The state would ensure the legal foundation, and western German.actors would t~ach the eastern Germans to animate the institutions and sustam them over ume. From the start, therefore, expectations about the extent of institutional transfer were much higher than the hopes for functional equivalcnt.s had been in rhe po!.twar era. Given the GDR's sudden collapse, of course, the shadow of\\'cst Germany would have loomed over any process of institutional reconstruction in eastern Germany. ~evertheless, one must appreciate the ambition of the actual conception: the \\'est was held up as the model not only in a l<:gal-imtitutional sense but also for sectoral and firm organizati~n and for intcn·st representation and political participation. In the terms mtroduced in Chapter 2. it was to be an extreme case of exact transfer, wholc'>ale transll·t. and continuous interaction. '~~' The actual process of exact transfer has had three important consequence~. First, it obsnut'CI deep disagreements among West Germans about what the~r "system~ is. Tlwse disagreenwnts could be masked effectively in the euphona of the moment and by the prerogative captured by the state to design there2!l. The 1111 •1110; 1 ol I lor ,t 1r·k hik a mr·mhcr olthc: chancellor's staff, shows that elector.tl con ' ' • cl <·c 'as1on . .111 t IH.· reut,·"cau'o 'll { rrataon, tolcut'd c\c,·t v 11l1po11ant 111 11 pr·ocA«' ... .., ..,, n9 '/{lffl'' ,.,. · fmmwn· Iuhtmdn hmg1mK (llerlin: Sit'dlr·t, 1\191). 29. The< l;tirn that it had ht•r·rr done before"'"' also prominent. In October 1990 the con~er Vati\e rna" d.uh Ulid ran,, Wl'l'k long ,t·r it'> on "cconomk miracles." . ~!I · 1 · 1 · ~cerneal and umr· •' I ·' · -'' 'ltth . rt "" , thu' ()I lilt' dillr·r t•nt from the luncuona eqUJva em, pk rrnrted tr,,n,lcr .tlrt•r World \\,n tl.
141
IMIIAI'ION AND POLITICS: REDESIGNING ~10DF.RN CFRMANY
unification treaties. But conflict wa~ bound to reemerge in more sober ments. Any moratorium on aggressive competition between western intcn·sts in ea~tern Germany weakened rapidly. For example, :\1artin tc1's study of the private energy sector demonstrate~ that West German c~ts s<·cured, at the expense of local government authorities. '"li•"''" '-•"u•ill more lucrative institutional prerogatives in eastern Gcrmam than they enjo\ed in the Wcst., 1Such examples reinforce the point that scholars of itation should anticipate competition over institutional designs and that tegrating their accounts of the creation and the maintenancc of insti rna' shed new light on apparently technical setup processes. The second result was that exact transfer brought to fhms in a "'"'""~c 1llll': aging command economy an institutional system geared to a very modern capitalist one. This "mismatch" was no mistake; indeed, it was part of the design: the new institutions would regulate and shape market competition to fore<· a shift in the boundaries of firms toward much smaller units of production. These restructured units could then, in combination with o ther firms in both western and eastern Germany, exploit the substantial home and East European markets that GDR firms had traditionally served. When, unexpectedly, the East European market collapsed, however, western German producers proved fully capable of supplying additional eastern German demand from western production. \\That remained of the original plan was a modified version of the harsh environment the West German institutional landscape had created to discipline firms and encourage steady increases in productivity. Eastcrn German firms, though, were disciplined right out of business. In briefest form, this harsh en· vironment is a function of free trade, tight money, high wages, and weak in· dustrial policy. It is normally tempered by some active labor market policies, subsidies in some sectors, and unions that allow changes in technology and work organi~ation. In eastern Germany the key modification has been the especially hea\'\ subsidization of new investment and the massive retraining of workers. 12 But alongside subsidized investment, the conventional system of high wage floors was maintained. The resulting labor costs contributed to an impressive number of firm failures and a staggering loss of employment in those firms that have managed to survive. The "disciplining effects" of German model of industrial relations became a kind of sword of hanging over the industrial remnants of eastern Germany. The leading of the blade has been the system of regional collective bargaining ,,.,rf'P·ml··nu
:\I . M.u lin Rirhlt>l, "Sektorale Transformation~pron•\sc
142
ludwtrial Relations in Eastern Germany
between the employer associations and the trade unions, best illustrated by the case of the metalworking sector, which has generally functioned as a "pilot" sector according to which others have oriented their agreements. The third way that the pmcess of reunification has hampered the reconstrUCtion of eastern Germam· involves iL~ effect on interest formation and reprc~cntation. Put blunt!), East Germans were "recruited" to join interest groups whose su-ucture, goab, and leadership were based in the West. GDR unions were dissolved and the fledgling employer associations integrated into the West German ones. Of course, no reunification process could have ignored pre-existing concentratiom of power in '"'est German interest groups and parties. To repeat: the claim is not that the West Germans "colonized~ East Germany and thus rn unled a "revolutionary" civil society; indeed, against the backdrop of deindustrialization. West German unions sometimes tried hard to politicize East Germans, many of whom would otherwise have been even more passive. The point is precisely that under the current system it has been unclear to eastern Germans when, where, or how they should take an active role on their own behalf. Sixteen million East Germans with a major industrial economy represented a great deal of potential political influence, but the actual reunification process has had the effect of significantly dampening that potential. The contrast here with the occupation cases is especially striking: in tl1e last episode of widespread institution building in Germany, the U.S. and British occupation forces consciously sought to build up certain indigenous actors. They did so because they knew they would be leaving but wanted their basic designs and policies to endure. West German actors, in part because they knew thev were sta}ing, tool.. a diflcrcnt approach and recruited East German members in ways that tended to minimize their voice within existing institutions. In short, then, inMitutional u-ansfer took place against the backdrop of political competition (for advantageous labor law), firm competition (for market shares). and organizational competition (for membership). This ubiquitous competition serves as a reminder that the world does not stop while technocrat<; restructure it. Three assumptions underpin wha1 follows. First, I assume that a period of stress is a good time to observe tlw ba1>i< contours of an institutional complex, because strengths and weaknesses that arc obscured in times of prospet;ty come into sharper focus then. Second, I assume that reunification is a time of substantial stress on German institutions, that the subsequent mood in ~rmany is not simply a reflection of angst but that the system really is in criSts-a crisis reflected in unemployment that approaches five million. Finally, for purposes of simplification, I tal..c unions and employer associations as the central areas of inquiry. I discuss the pt·ivatization agency called the Treuhandanstalt (or, commonly, Treuhand) and the role of the federal and state governments only as they absmh functions normally reserved for the social part-
143
IMITATION ANI> POLIIICS: R£oe~IGNING MODERN GERMANY
ners under the \Vest Gt:rman model or as they spin off those functions to the social partners.~~~
TilE MODEL THAT WAS SUPI'OSEJ) TO BE T RANSH.RRED
The basics of German wage bargaining, works councils, and industrial policy that were introduced in Chapter 3 are elaborated only briefl} here. The resulting picture is necessarily highly stylized and cannot portray many im. portant featu res of German industrial relations. 11 One of the central tcneta guiding the postwar rl'COnstruction of WeM Germany was that state power should be balanced by a strong civil society.~' As part of this division of labor, wage negotiations are the preserve of the social partners. In simplified form, they work as follows: each industrial union negotiates, in a series of regional agreements. wage and benefits packages with the corresponding employer association. These agreements then acquire force of law for all shops in that region and industry except for firms that choose not to join the employer as· sociation; they can usually negotiate their wage contracts directly with the union (as does Volkswagen, for example). In addition to regional industry wage agreement~. the individual firms' works councils-nonunion e lected bodies that represent all the firm 's employees-can negotiate with m anage· ment for, among other things, additional bonuses and benefits. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s this provision has been an increasingly important source of flexibility in setting wage and employment terms in individual plants. Since firms arc legally prohibited from undercutting the negotiated wage floors, the result is a system of "economic hygiene" in which weak firms fail. With respect to regional and industrial policy, the German model has be· come increasingly liberal. In the first postwar decades the state targeted pro· motion of certain favored sectors and drew intermittently on a palette of re· gional policies, especially for the Ruhr. Although these policies never helped move firms into new markets, they did stretch out sectoral declines and ease the transition of workers to new sectors. But during the 1980s, policies be· came less generous. The older corporatist mode of dealing with problem
~\$. D.lla l>OUI(eS in< ludt· three round~ uf intt·l \ie'" ,tmon~ trade union .md emplo\er as5()(i· auon ofTHials ht•twet·n 199:~ and 1996. plu~ governm<'lll dmument~ and \('COIHI.try sources. I Jh,mk Ma1 tin lkhrem for ane'~ to two fm ther 111teniew' thai he conclucted Fm ,~ecounts ofth~ otlwr i\\Ut''>, s<·e \\'olf~ang ~t·ibel, "Jnnm.nion, Imitation und PerM\tem" (papt'l pres<•nted to KSI'W Conference. Ap1 il 19%. Bellin); Roland C1ad.1. "&hll•ich\H'K in dit• 'Dritte Rcpublik,'" p,/lti•ch, I ·,,.,,ljnhm!>clmfl y, ( 1991) 245 iO. :\4. For ptu poses of simplification. l u cat the German indu~trial 1elations sYMt·m as uniform and thu' i~no1 t' \ariauon ano-.s re~1ons in We~t ( ;ermam. For a muth fullt•r account, M>t' Volker lkrghahn .md De Lief 1\r Parlllmhip. 28-:H. ~\'\. P<·ter K.n7en~tt'in. A>ltry am/ Polr/IH m \In/ r-mtm.F .,M Grnwth nf II Snm 'iot·l'Trlf<'l St(l/f (l'hiladelphia: f(•mpk Univer~ity 1'1 ess, I !IH7).
144
Indu strial Rtlatzons in F:a.sttrn Gtrmany
areas gave way. as a more reluctant federal state deferred to the agenda of man.tgers in the industrial adjustment process. '14• fi\l' areas of change in this stylii'ed model are of interest here , divided roughly into "actors" and "tasks." Two areas involve the constitution of the cenu al actors, through links, first, between individual firms and employer as· sociations. and second, between workers and works councils and unions. The third and fourth areas have to do with the way these actors have sought, in easwm Germany, to shape the system of wage bargaining and the development of industrial and regional policy. The fifth area concerns the broad shifts in the balance between state and social actors which have resulted from the rhanges in the first four areas. Again, rather than engage in an extended discussion of the West German indu~u;al relations model, I highlight the way reunification ha~ exacerbated trarlitional tensions and created new ones. T he claim is not that the develop· ment~ one sees in eastern Germany are, in eve1 y case, unprecedented in the \<\'est. In fact, most, though not all, of the tensions apparent in the East arc familiar to s(Udents of German industrial relations. What seems different is both the extent of these tensions and the range and simultaneity of unusual de.,.clo pmcnts. To understand the tensions, one must exam ine the original process through which unions and employer associations were constructed in eastc·rn Germany.
U:->10\;S:
Exnu.:.tE FLUCTUATIONS
A' reunification became a certainty in the wake of the March 1990 elections, West German unions soon decided that rather than maintain a refonm~d \ersion of the Communi!>! Party's labor organilation, the Freier DeuL~cher Gewerkschaftsbund (FDGB), individual wcstem industrial unions would recruit members from their counterpart industrial unions in the East. As western unions e>..tended their domain into the East. the individual CDR mdusu·ial unions would be dissolved along with their federation. Although some· western union leaders-including many in the largest union, IG Met· all-had real misgivings about such a takeover, this developmen t can be tran·d to a combination of concerns about the very low legitimacy of the FD(,B and its member unions among East Get man workers at that time, and to the ob,ious attraction of substantial membership increases for their own unions. ~?
The individual West German unions took a range of different approadlCs
3b. futta I !elm. "'>trun ural Change in tht· Ruh1 Valle\." TI1Ph·tlnal Rttmblu oj Germ11m at l-int}. •·d. Pt·JI 1 Mt·r f.. I ( \:t·\\ " " k. \:t·w \ark l ni,·e"'t' Pu·"· 19X'I). 37. See :'>lith a<' I Fichtt•1, "A I louse!)" ided. (;ctlnan Unification and Organ ited Labour." (;,.-r. man l'olttin ruul Sonrl\ 2 ( l
145
IMJ rATION AND Pouncs: REoESJGNJXC. Moor.KJ\ GJ.KMA"'Y
industrial Relations in Eastern Germany
to transferring their organizations eastward. 1 H Tlw chemical workers' IG Chemic, integrated a reformed East German union leadership into own organitation. The huge metalworkers' union, TG Metal!, relied more heavily on transferring personnel from western locals lO leading em locals and on generally extending the domain of existing western gional units to include eastern German ten-itor.,.. Onh in the ca.se of was a pureh eastern German IG Metal! regional allowed to form. As one their final organitational acts, the GDR unions called upon their members join the corresponding western unions. Although unions in West had rarelv fought substantial battles over which union wa~ entitled to orga. niJ'e which firms, the opportunities for substantial membership growth among the thousands of suddenly unorgani~:ed firms in the East led to sey. eral nasty "border wars." 39 The early enthusiasm of East German workers for membership in the western unions was dampened considerably, however, by heavy job losses. Af. tcr increasing substantially in 1990 and 1991 to the point where densities reached 50% of the working population (as against just over 30% in West Germany), membership soon fell off rapidly. During 1992, lor example, the DGB unions lost 766,000 members (18.4%) in eastern Germany but only 19,000 (0.2%) in western Germany. wAnother 500,000 left in 1993, and membership declined further in 1994 and 1995 so that between 1991 and 1995 the eastern unions lost 43% of their members. 11 Further, although official densities in the East remain roughly comparable to those in the West, the common reality is that over half of union members are unemployed. These memben draw heavily on union services, especially in legal representation, while pay· ing dues of only a few marks per month.~ 2 Figure 4 shows the differential rate of membership losses in selected unions. Public-sector unions such as the police (GdP). teachers (GEW), and adminisu·ative personnel (OTV) have lost members at much lower rates than have industrial unions such as metal· working (IGM), textiles (GTB) and leatherworking (GL). Banking (HBV) th(· onh pt~ivate-sector service occupation shown, has also suffered ver~· sig· nificant losses.
:IR 11)1(1., 21-2:).
llanJO C{:rgs. Rudi Schmidt, and Rainer Trinud•. "Die Claim' clt·l Fn~tl'lgcwcrkschafld \ind 1nmt1 iltt>n." ~l:)/-.'11llll'iilmgen 3 (1992): 149-57. 10. /)ip 11H/, Juuc I I. 1993. 11. Tlw ck~·linc W
:N.
tOO 90 80
;o 60
50 40 30 20 10
0 1991
- - C'..OP GEW --)(-QTV --+- OGB Total ---1-IGM ---e-IIBV - - CL
1992
1993
1994
1995
Figure 4. OGB membership tn•nch in selected unions in eastern Germany, 1991-95 (1991 = 100)
Souru: Reprinted by p<>nni~~ion from Mkhael Fichter, "Trade Union Members: A Vanishing Species in Pmt·Unification Germany?" (;n.,um Studrts Rnlitw 20, no. 1 (1997): 90.
What do such losses say about institutional transfer? The o rganization-set argumem implies that transfer fails because some crucial supportive structure is missing. but these trends irnph that there may also be a problem between unions and members. What potential for voice has there been in DGB unions for former FDGB members? Earl} on, it was unclear what impact the new eastern constituenc> would have on the combined union movement in Germany. Some speculated that rank-and-file support for the CDU meant that the unions would move away from the SPO toward political neutralism. 11 Others argued that the presence of former FOGB functionaries in the new works councils might push the unions leftward. But both speculations have so far proved irrelevant because the eastern Germans have had relatively little say in broader union policies. 11 For an understanding of this lack of voice, it helps to recall the techniques
.'7·
43. Klaus Armingcon, ..(;('\\t'l k\t h.1ftlidw Poli1ik im Protell dcr deutschen \'ereinigung," Du Poiitik dtr dmt~rlvr~ Fmhnt. f'mblnnr, Stwtrgwn, 1\outrm't'hen, ed. Ulrike Liebert and Wolfgang \ferkel (Opladen, (.ernMnl: l.t•,J..t• +- Budr i< h. I !1!11). 44. Interview~: Clwrnniv, 199:1; h.ln!..lutt, 199:\.
146
147
l\1tJATtoN ANn
.l'ouTJcs: REoEsiCNINc' Mo DERN . GERMl\NY
that accompanied exact transfe £ - . . West German unionists we r ot fmtegratmg eastern German membe . . re aware 0 the po . 'bT ts. might imbalance them ssJ I tty chat the new memb as actors. For exam 1 IG ers about a rekindling of the·Ir . , . P e, Metall leaders worr· d umons old mternal divid. b .• te who had successfully pushed a" d . . " c ctwccn progressivesmo ermzmg agenda 1 anc . . " who p on teedmology, women , . !. the environment-and ~tra d'1Uonahsts II··.• 1tst agenda. The union countered th' , .b. . ursue a classic mate.. f . . ts posst 1ht1 b\ ext· d' th attc o . t'Xtstmgwestern-based d'IStriCts . mto . ' en. mg e bound the ne that extsting districts would e . " eastern st.nes. This meant xerCise control of . 1• and would be in a position t h petsonne m eastern German 0 s ape eastern German d .. . . d } organit:ational .. tactor m ·eepmg the d". _. , e: . pent1tar problems of caste m Gcrmany "t.. v,r· h tstt ICt s tOCus on the 1 · .. Ea'>t, western unions stepped. . H a l1111 CIVil society in the . m to support and p . h . Yet Ill so doing they sought I romote t c new mst.itutions . · . ' a so to manage the" 1 /allonal dilemmas. lr own ong-standmg organiln the case of works councils too the . their strategies in the East. The challenunJO~s _ha~e bee': forced to rethink tungsslt>llm) to the works cou ., f. d_g: of lmkmg un ion locals (Verwal. ncJ s o m tv1dual fir n · . d 1 . renuuns vexing for German 1a b or, even after a c It s .,m f proc ucuon plants rr cnce; West German unions long ch-c d th . ~n lll_ yo eHort and cxperi.
tl
'oh,~i •. ltt!t"l\ .. .i('\IS: . Cht'lllllill ' 1993. I n .,u Ieast one case howt'' I(' '1 . '~lot <•1P•KII} l'llhrwml bv a district that comb· , 1 F. ' H': • ' ·' l't.tll found it'> problt-m· htnlchng '>l'l'lor could ht' heller coordina d . lllwjtl'llm dl'll IW/ll/1 llwulrJ/iindn-,1 am l!l%)• . • !Sr 11
lllcc
.ast and Wes!: lhc• "coa,!.tl"
disuict'~ ship·
~:e,,.,~nd '"~'~"Mrta/1 'tral<'!f.. Sec· Ma l lin lkluem, /)ie ('.,~,,rr/1 (DIIsseldotl· 11 111, I' " ' I S -1 PI"
(,
•
•
>0(" ('I
·lh. K.lthlt-c·n Tllt'lt'n, L'nion ofl'arts·[ hor A . '>il\ i'H'\'> • 199") . .a ohllrr in l'oltwar <:r.mrw•.' (ltll •·tc··t· · · ' , 119, • ·
. 17flO\\'w "'
!Hill
est .e,mau wm ].., totmfi f, ·" t'
148
1
lltllllf.t,
c·.OIIH' II U tll\.'t"r~ .
WOI k Olg"
olll(
Several problems have strained works council-union relations in the East, however. 48 First, of course, cohesion has been challenged by the losses in labor's leverage due to high unemployment. Beyond the familiar dilemma of whether to promote the intc·rests of current workers or of those on the eJ(ternal labor market, eastern works councils had to participate in massive layoffs of their firms' workers. Tensions were highest in cases where new works councilors strongly agreed t11at the firms needed a more rational employment structure and were subsequently accused by workers of too easily accepting each new round of employment cut<>. (In subsequent years, other aXes of tension have been council approval of difficult shift-work arrangements and, especially, wage concessions.) \\'orks councilors in this situation often saw union pressures for maintaining employment as incompatible with firm sunival and kept unions at arm's length except for the services they 4
could provide.~ The pragmatic goals of avoiding low-wage competition and organizing new eastern members often took priority over building tics to works councils. In 1991 , as noted, unions and employers signed industry-level agreements to equalize wages rapidly to western levels. This pact clearly served the estab· lished unions' interest~ in avoiding low-wage competition inside their own country. The equalization schedules a lso met with broad approval from the employed members of the eastern population, who gained symbolic acceptance as equals as well as material benefits from the deal.:;o With the potentially contentious issue of wages seemingly behind them, individual unions focused enormous efforts on providing services to individual workers. This acti\ity dovetailed nicely with most East Germans' visions of the function of a union, since the FDGB, as a kind of transmission belt of the Communist Party. had been primarily responsible for distributing a wide range of services to indi,idual members. Yet not all the fragili() of the link with works councils can be attributed to union neglect, for eastern works councils use the de jure limits of the law to avoid involvement in political fights the} believe would harm their firms. Interestingly, in one region of Saxon} the works council that had done the most to mobilize political opposition to the pr ivati.t:ation policies leading to job losses in its firm was the first to declare the 1993 metal strike useless and to &tnrh~riii.P rmd ~tml!lulu
/In nrhajl ( ~~ anklurt: C:ampm. 1981 ) and &trubsriite und
Biirgmtatu~
(M,.hring: Rain('r I Iampp. 1991). IR The best \t1111tllary ol the'\' u <'II cis i' J itr)(<:n K:.icltkr. Gi.,ela Kottwiu, and Rainer Weinert. &tnrb"iitP m 0\tdl'utwhltmtl: hntrtutmlll'nhiltlung ruul Handlunj.,"'konstellationm, !989- I 99·1 (Op· lacl('n. (;('rmany: We~t(leutsche•. I !l97). 4!l. Tut nt'r, Fightingfor Pmtnmhip. 4H- 68. t•mphasilt'S these union services, especially in l.ugt• met<~lworking firm\ owe them; !.l'<' hi'> "ll.trd (·"''('II( v and Soil Revolutionaries: The EconomiC\ of Entitkmt'nt and !lw lkh;1tt' on (,,.,m.lll Molll'l
5i-H-I.
149
htiTAliON AND
PouTics:
Rt:o.t:siGNlNl;
MooF:RN
GERMANY
refuse to participate. Thus, where political power has been mobilized, it is also guarded against "appropriation" by the union for a broader agenda. The qualified victory in the metal strike of 1993 did reinvigorate some unionworks council linkages, but it remains unclear whether this f(mndation can be fu1ther built upon in this sector, let alone other sectors. There are at least two prominent obstacles. First, after eight vcars, privatitation-induced la}'offs no longer function a<> a common tches Institut fiir Wirtschaftsforschung (DIW), a major economic research institute, suggest that over half of all metal firms pay wages below the legal minimums. ~1 Not all below-contract wages are paid illegally; since the 1993 strike, it has been possible for metalworking firms to receive a "hardship" exception from the union, and there are similar provisions in other sectors. One study of thirtye ight firms in the metal, chemical, and construction industries found that of the subset of25 firms that did not conform to contract provisions in wages or
31. .Ji'ngcn K.trhkr Lrielle Bctiehungcn Ill o .. tclt•tmrhland: Durch 1\oopt•r a lion /lllll Gt•gt'llMll. von K.'lpital und Arbeit," llld!i\lrullt· Brz.IPirrlllf{t'll, I ( 19!11): 1-26. 52. r,tim.Ht'.' 011 thi' point varv b\' sector and bv estimator. bu1 rang<· horn 20 to 50% highn in tht• East than in tht· WeM: Lichthlau, Hm dPT Tramfer- m dr~ Mmlamrllrllajt, 2\1; interview: Er· fu rl. l!l!lH. Of c·oua~c. investor~ iu eastern Germany an: compensated by V<'ty high inveMment '>llb!.iclit·s. 5:1. A Mmly by tlw ln~titut fiir Wir·tsc haftsforsdtung Hal le found 1har 12% of a 1992 ~ample and 2•1% of a 1993 s.ampit' admitted to paying lower than kga l wages. Wilf•icd Fttl ;111d Anclrt' I kikemoth, suggnting that melhodological problems pmhabl) led to llltcler• cp01ting, ciwd otlwr 'tudit•s showing that $5% of industrial firms pa' subcolltran wagn; \l.'<' tht·i• "Struktur· w.md<'i, \'t•r baml\.tbstinent, Ta1 illlucht, • lndustriellt Bn.i~llung1'11 3 ( 1996): I :l!l- 12, 11\l. 5·1. lrHt't vit'''': Co Iogue, 1995. DIW data from "Gesamt:winschaltlidw unduntt·ruehmcrio.dll' ,\np."'ungsfort"thnue in O;tdeuL'iChland," D/l1' 11orhnl/){"firhl 15 (19!J·l ): 1ahll'' I 2
150
Industrial Relations in Eastern Germany
hOurs, 44% had worked out unio~ approval.' whil~ 56% had not."" It is likely in the latter kinds of cases that umon-coun~1l ten_swns arc most prono~nced. But where Thelen emphasized the ways m wh1ch labor often used Jts mobilization potential to gain substantially more material and procedural b~ne fit~ than prescribed by law, labor in eac;tern Ger~any oft~n. gets substantJal_ly less and in many cases allows managers to set astde proVlsiOns of the law ~n der to increase the fim1 \chances for survival.:..' As time passes, these d•fM th . ferences between eastern and western Germ am· appear more. _a~ JUSt tra~sitional. Indeed, the firms most likelv to brea~ contract wag~s JlhCitly are disproportionately economically health'\- rather than weak, wh1ch cast doubt on the notion that such deviations reflect temporary payments problems rather than ambivalence about the uti lit} of regional wage bargaining. 57 . In short, the unions can perhaps best accommodate works counCils by .t~l erating the widespread illegal practices in which the councils are comphCit. Along ....1th evidence or membership declines, this dile~ma sug~estc; t~at even the transfer of a complete organization set has left umons needmg tomnovate in order to preserve their traditional prerogatives. For the employer associations, the d ilemma is even more severe.
E~tPLOYER AssoC I ATIONS: MEMB~:RSIIIP PROBLEMs AS EXISTENTIAL DI LEMMA
As \\'ith the trade unions, reunification caught the \Vest German employer associations in the midst of a series of internal debates. -,ll Thus, although West German indusmal relations practices functioned as a blueprint, each major actor in the system was caught up in internal disputes about its own organization. Since reunification. whereas trade unions faced a loss of labor market power in eastern German). the employer associations have been in a figh t for their \'ery existence. In membership terms, unions started strong and then faded; the associations started wea~ and then stagnated. At the time of reunification the central tension among \\'est German employers was a long-simmering dispute between small and large producers. :,5, lngr id At tm and Cahttelt• Stt•t kl'i, "Br ilC hige T,u iftt•alitiit: F.rgebni;sc einer empi.ri,chcn Sturlic '"' Tarifgestallung,praxis in lktril'iwu dcr ostdt•utschen Mctall -. l~au-, und Chcml('industrie," H:'i/ Mill'l"n~m 7 ( 199H) : 4:11-·11. . . 56. ji'trgen Insatz m den lk1rreh lllritck;." Sotiali!l 1 ( 1993): l!l -2.'i. 5i. Anu~ and Sterk('(, "Br it
151
IMJTAI'ION AND POLITICS: REOESIGNINC. MODF.RN
G~.RMANY
~gain,. the very large metalworking sector serves as a convenient illustra. t1on of a broader trend.·'9 In that sector, traditionally used by the unions to lea~ the annual collective bargaining rounds, large manufacturers such as Dam1ler-Ben.l ~nd Bosch were routinely accused by smaller, often less modern, metalworkmg firms of buying labor's cooperation at a premium pri Accordingly, du~n~ the 1980s the ~genda of smaller West (',ennan employ~~ centered on ach1evmg a more fleXIble collective bargaining w~tem, one that U'>ed wage Mranges" instead of fixed percentage increases, Mmenus" of benefits tather .than fixe? ~ackages, and the abolition of the laws that extend regional collecuve ?argammg agreeme~ts to all firms in the industrv. Notwithstanding these tens10ns over strategy, w1th reunification the associations were used as a blueprint for the East. The mechanism by which employer associations were transferred to eastern Germany was, however, somewhat different from that of the unions. ~h~rea~ W~st German unions were active in encouraging reform processes m (,OR umons in the first months after the fall of the Berlin Wall, m ost employer associations were not interested in helping the C DR reform itself. The few pioneers who began organizing firm managers-often to resolve p~oduct~on problems in an increasingly chaotic eastern economy-initially (ild so without much help from westerners. As in the immediate post-World War 11 period the employer associations were restarted on a regional level. Managers in the socialist economy had always relied heavily on their individual industrial ministries for advice and coordination. Thus, the West German concept of associations of employers originally appealed lO many East German managers as a continued source of assistance. In some sectors the newlv formed associations were greeted eagerly by firms in transition toward market conditions; clearly, many managers expected them to become conduits fo~ the fu~d~ and expertise needed to transform their companies. Only in tillS ven hmned sense was there a process of pulling in structures modeled on \-\'est German ones. Given the pervasive uncertainty about fit·m structure. ownership. capitalitation, debt, personnel, and markets, the situation could hardly have been othenvise. In short, it was clear that \\'est German structures presupposed a certain configuration of actors and interests that did not vet exist in the East. When it became clear that the associations would not be the primary channel for investment and training subsidies, interest in them among firms declined considerably.1;o As one official put it, 'The managers were disappointed to learn that we could not cover their wage overruns. "h 1 On the o ther ~>9. Simila1 d•vide~ can be ;een in the chemical~ ~ector; \e(' Stnt• Silv1;1, "Ct••mau Uuific.ltion and l·.n~t·•ging D•vbions within the German ~:mploye• ~· .\\\oci,uiom," C:ompmaltl•r PoltiU\ ~!I (1997): 19·1 - 9!1. 1\0. lntt'l\ww': Berlm and Erfun. 1993. hi. lntt'l\it·\\· 'X'hwt•rin, 1!193.
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1ndustrial Relations in Eastern Germany
band. the enthusiasm of the West German associations for the East German regional associations was growing. With reunification imminent, these regional associations began receiving substantial support in the form of material and personnel from the West German associations. On March 9, 1990, the peak associations of the em plovers and unions (BdA and DGB) agreed to belp extend West Gcrman-s~·Ie bargaining to the East. Thereafter, unions in some areas actually helped spur the creation of employer associations in order to find familiar bargaining partners! ~>t (her the course of 1990 virtually all the GDRassociations were merged into West German associations.•d The ke) West German actors were the Land-level sectoral emplover associations (Landl'sjachverbiinde), each of which coordinated the transfer of the wage bargaining from its state. Here again, distinct features that blur from a distance into one "model" betray the competitive potential in the apparently technocratic process of transfer. Since the new Lander would be taking over the form of collective bargaining agreements in their "partner" states, there was competition among West German states for eastern German partners. For example, the Bavarian employer association actually refused a proposed partnership with Thuringia in order to block a planned partnership between Saxony and Baden-Wiirttemberg. BadenWurttemberg has often been IG Metall's "pilot" district, and other employer associations worried that the regulations there were too inflexible. In the end, Bavaria took Saxony; Hessen was matched to Thuringia; and BadenWurttemberg received no official partner state.1H Another significant development of these partnerships was the acceleration of a West German trend toward combining the functions of economic associations (lobbying) and em plover associations (wage bargaining). As noted in Chapter 3, the U.S. occupation was unable to alter this "traditional" division of labor, but a number of West German Liindn later moved toward an Mintegrated" model, and because of the structure of partnerships. four of the five new Lander also have the integrated model (only Saxony has the divided form).' " Episodes of misunderstanding. competition, and even reform are far from the onl) challenges faced in the process of transfer. Like the unions, employer associations seeking to promote relatively homogeneous wage conditions for firms with quite disparate interests have had severe headaches with firm-level actors. Even among those eastern employers who initially imagined the associations would be useful, subsequent developments left most man-
62. This ocrurrt•d in both the nwt.tl and chemical ~ectors. Interviews: Frankfurt, 1993; Gottingen, 19!15. 63. The (relatively insignilitant) t•xn•puon i\ the { 'ntemrhmnmerband .
153
IMt rATION AND
Pouncs:
REDESIGNING MoDERN GERMANY
agcrs less enthusiastic. Those who did not join early have not joined at all. one sample from all across eastern Germany, 98% of the organiied firms joined the associations in either 1990 (66%). 1991 (16% ) or 1992 (15~ ) (11 • • 0 I 2 tc .JOmed as recently as 1993 or 1994. In the same sample , not a on\' one of the start-ups had bothered to join an association at ali.'"' Here is existential dilemma of the associations, for without dues thcv cannot Employers in the East have rejected membership in the regional associatiom at much higher levels than those in the \'\'est, where membership haa also been on the decline.'; 7 Recall that one of the cenu·al pillars of German indmu ial relations is the regional nature of collective bargaining agreements.'·' Individual firms in West Germany gene rail) had strong incentives to join the employer associations, not only because they provided servicesincluding funds during lockouts and strikes-but abo because firms that d~alt on an individual basis with the unions usually paid much higher wage btlls. But by the same logic, labor's current bargaining weakness in eastern Germany allows firms to negotiate deals that fall below the regional agreemenL~.w In the western metalworking sector, despite the tensions between large and small firms, 50 to 65% of the firms employing more than 70% of the labor force were organized in the nominally voluntary a~sociations, and even higher numbers were covered by the binding "extension" of contract wagcs. 7" In eastern Germany, however, a far lower percentage of firms are members of the associations. The 1994 DIW study found that only 36% ofindustrial firms were organized-and that number, subsequent interviews with regional associations suggest, is inflated. 7 1 Even in the construction sector, where business boomed until 1996 and labor market'> ha\'C been much tighter than in other sectors, only about half the workers arc in firms organiied by the employer association. A 1997 Federal Labot Office surver of 3,500 ea,tern German firms in all branches found that in onh one sectormining and energy-were 50% of firms covered by regional contract'>; the overall average was 26%-compared with 49% in West Germany. Even more striking, the sune\ found that the few large eastern firms (above 500 e mployees) were slightly mare likely to be covered than equivalent West German firms. But in ftrms with 100 to 500 employees there arc sharp diflerences, and below 100 employees there are, on this dimension, simply two different po·
li!l. Ettl ancll kil..t•tuoth, "Strukturwandel," 144. ti7 . Ft•dt·t .tl !..thor Oflitc, "FifKhentarifvertrag im We>t.er Selu 'it' I wt'ilt'l O'l<' n," /All Kt11t.lwricht 1~1 ( 1\1\18): I. 6H. \o\'ot k• l OLIItdls can ba•gain up from these floors lor ~p<'cial honust•s in individual firms. but tlH'it do not have the same leg-al Matus as collective bargaining ag• <'<'IIICIH.s. li'l. I i1 111' I hat k ,tvc the employers' associations can, aflet waiting until lht• l liiH'nt tt•gronal ag1 <'<'lllt'nb have expio t•d, indi,iduallv barg-ain with the unions or woo kt'J '· 70. lllw·m,·t m •nbmdltrhkPtllnkliinmf(: see Sih·ia, "(~e• man Llnifit.tlion ," 1'1~. 7 1. lnH'IVI<'W': Dtt·,dcn, 1994; Eti'urt, 1995.
15·1
/udustrial Relations in Eastern Germany
(jucal economies in East and Wcst. 7 ~ Here is a perfect microcosm of the optimist-pessimist debate: whether one thinks the transfer has worked or not depends a lot on which pan of the economy one concentrates on. . Collective bargaining coverage would have been worse had not the state, tn the form of the Treuhand, initialh put substantial pressure on its managers tojoin the associations. As soon as firms were priv_atized, however: thein,;llingness to stav in the associations dropped sharph .•~ The heavy· reliance on state backing for the traditional associations suggests that there may be little depth of co mmiunent to the associations on the part of the eastern German firms that hm•ejoined, and there arc sonw data to support this speculation. In one state association's 1995 internal studv of industrial firms currently belonging to the associations, more than one-fourth said they contemplated leaving. In the craft sector the numbers were only slightly more positive for the associations: 43% of firms were members, and not quite 25% contemplated deparLUre.' t Associations have managed to retain a high percentage of firms that initially joined-in part because organized flrms can still pay subcontract wages-but have been much less successful in attracting new start-ups. Of course, since the employer associations depend heavily on their role in negotiating collective bargaining agreements, they remain, even in the East, fullv committed to extending the western model and have gone to extraordinar)·lengths to overcome the resistance of employers in eastern Germany. In Thuringia, "shell" employer associations have been constructed: these have no wage-bargaining function at all but are supposed to entice firms to maintain some connection to the employer associations. A firm can, '"';th the appro\'al of its "normal" association, remain in this halfway house for up to two yearsY' The example confirms not onl} the kinds of temporary adaptations of which German indusu·ial relations have been capable in the East but also the extent to which those adaptations arc not alternatives so much as ways of buying Lime. There is hope that if the econom} comes around, the old system might yet be stabilized. If producers find they can live outside the traditional model and avoid the regulations, however, hopes will dim that the employer associations can retain th(~it importance in wage bargaining. To this point, my argument has !\uggested tl1at even the extraordinarily comprehensive transfer of West German structures has not been able to meet all the challenges of transferring industrial relations to a new setting. Further, it is too simple to say that the West German model has been disadvantaged by unexpectedly difficult labor market conditions; in fact, the model has itself
72. Federal Labor Onin·. " Flat ht·nl.tl il\t•tll.tg." 1- 1. 73. From on·• 90%, m!'mber,hip d10ppt·
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lndw,trial Relations inEastan Germany
IMITATION AND POLITICS: REDESIGNING MODERN GERMANY
contributed to those conditions by the harsh environment to which it ex firms. In a very real sense it has undercut the conditions for it.s own m ~<-.a . II aJQ nancc.. Fma y, a~d contrary to the expectations of the organization-set ~othes1s, the ch1ef problems have been not necessarily between organ~ uons-after all, in some cases unions actually encouraged the establish . . m~ o f empI over assooauons-but rather between the organitations and their own memb.ers. How .hav~e such hamstrung organizations coped with key lalla of econom1c rcgulauon~ The following section explores this question both the core domain of wage bargaining and in the traditionally secondary· • of indus trial and regional policy. io · • ISSQe
CONT.t;STED GROUND: SOCIOECONOMIC F UNCTIONS IN ThANSITION
Wage Bargaining ~ t is clear tha.t even when employer associations can convince firms to join, ~ctther
the .umons nor the associations can compel firms to pay the collectively bargamed contract r~te: The fear of high wage obligations has kept many firms out of the assooauons and strained union tics with works councils. Looking at the constitution of these actors allows one to say more about their interactions. What original choices of the social partners contributed to the current mess in the East? What do their subsequent responses reveal about the exact transfer process more generally? The broad outlines are clear. The ruling CDU-FDP state officials in Bonn and the social partners originally envisioned that wages and invesunent would be organically linked in the process of helping the eastern economy ~onverge \\ith western Germany's; they justified large nominal and real wage mcreases on the assumption that West German investment in the East would create jobs at productivity levels that would soon justify wages equal to those in the \\'est. In 1991 a series of wage agreements negotiated in the various sec· tors called for the step-by-step equalization of wages-the ~o-called Stufm tmifiwrtriige-between the two parts of Germany. to take place by the mid1990s (the anticipated year varied by industry). The unions were interested in avoiding the development of a low-wage region in the East, which might pull invcsunen t and jobs away from the West, and they exp<.·cted the attain ment of immediate wage increases to benefit them in membership recruit mcnt. The idea of a high-wage region in the East had the strong initial support of the trade unions. Two further influences on the wage deals of 1991 were the actions of boda
individual eastern employers (not the associations; the first wage deals in 1990 oecurred before the employer associations were established) and of the state. cDR firm managers, looking to the possibility that in the near future they themselves would become emplovees. and confident of the state's deep pocket:>. negotiated a series of generous increases with the plant-level unions. The first regional agreements signed by the employer associations then guaranteed that no layoff~ could occur until 1991. Only then was the state, which in early 1991 still owned the \ast majoritY of eastern German firms, forced to reckon \\ith the consequences of layoffs from the privatization policies. \\'ildcat and organized strikes, demonstrations, and plant occupations quickly convinced the government to bu\ union acceptance of privatization ,..,;th a poliC\ of rapid wage equalization. 77 It was clear to unions that very large layoffs would be inevitable, but under this bargain the disagreeable necessity would be balanced by significant wage gains for those who did find work and benefits payments to those who could not. Further, the state clearly worried about the migration of easterners into West Germany and hoped to stem the flow by raising expectations for high-payingjobs in the East. The western employer associatio ns were also interested in pursuing rapid wage equalization and, in the metal sector, pushed hard for the first of the equalization plans. 711 The weak eastern associations were highly dependent on the advice of western employers in their wage negotiations. The western associations were motivated by a web of calculation and miscalculation. They were concerned, especially in manufacturing sectors where productivity could hardly be expected to reach that of western Germany quickly, that service sector firms pa}ing high wages would pull away the employment base.79 From this perspective, higher wages-even if not justified by the current producU\it} levels of eastern Germans-would help secure a skilled workforce for future production. Concerns about labor market competition dovetailed with concerns about product market competition and pointed toward a high-wage solution. For many West German industrial interests, high wages could potentially form a kind of protection against possiblt' eastern competition. Existing West German firms, especiall) in sectors ahead) suffering from unused capacity, were not keen to sec the maintenance 01 extension of competitors in eastern Germany. When pressured by the state 01 Lhe threat of foreign invesunent to acquire firms there, western firms sonwtimcs simply acquired eastern capacity 77. &e Wolfgang Seilwl, "The 1'1 iv.uinuiou olthl' East German Economy: Unintended Con ;equencc' of Political Anion and Politi< .tl Coving" (manmnipt. Universitv of Konstant, 1995),
25-28.
•
~ 78. Ht'imut Wicsenthal, \\ ilh It'd I.ul, ,tnd Clu i'ti,utc Bialas. "Intercsscnverbande im Trans· 0
76. A., noted earlier. indusu-ial and regional poticic'> hlit' in '"''terll ( :t'llllam and h
156
~ationspro1eB" (w01J..ing p.tpe•. M.
ift l9. S<·e t.ht· 'tatement' b, ( "'"'~ntm..ta/1 olli~ i.tl' quoted~~~ IG '\1etall: ~~lr t;rwidigm U1HPrm Tar· 'f'T1rag, stnke cloumwntauon (F1.tnkft11t: 1(, \l<:t,tll. 19~U). 4; mten1ew>: Cologne, 1995.
157
IMITATION ANI> POLITICS: REDESIGNING MODERN GERMANY
Industrial Relations in Eastern Ger·many
and then closed it down. 80 In this context, the push for higher wages firm survival very difficult, drastically reduced capacity, and shifted the den of adjustment from industrial policy to active labor market policy. dotal evidence of investment and plant closings based on such intralSe•cto•ral competition abounds, but I am aware of no documentary evidence that associations themselves were involved in any conspiracy to limit co through high wages. 81 In fact, the most careful analysis of the metal sec:to• suggests that with the wage deals of 1991 the discourse inside the "'""'v'"''"Lcun~ • reflected western calculations that eastern German firms would be able to compete in East European markets. 8~ Yet if "miscalculation" is the sounder conclusion for this sector than "mendacity," the two are not mutually exclusive. Doubtless, the collective miscalculation among western German man. agers and associations endured as long as it did because, if they turned out to be wrong, most costs would be borne in the East (in jobs lost or forgone) and not in the West. But the agreements for equalizing wages soon came under fire. Production and employment plummeted as market guarantees for eastern German production ended, and the employers soon began to claim that both existing and new investment was incompatible witl1 a high-wage region in eastern Germany. Eastern employers argued that their wage bills made most firms economically unviable. Throughout 1992, Gesamtmetall, the metal sector's employer association, pressured IG Metall to revise the contracts that called for an increase in eastern workers' base pay from 71% to 82% of that of western metalworkers. 83 The union, however, argued that without markets, wage cuts would make little difference to firm survival, and it rejected the call for new negotiations as an attempt to impose the costs of reunification on the workers alone. 84 The employers, union leaders said, had predicated their investment in eastern Germany on all manner of state subsidies and then tried to argue that wages should be calculated on a "market" basis. In February 1993, Gesamtmetall unilaterally canceled the contracts and instituted a 9% wage increase instead of the agreed-upon 26%. This was the
first time in the history of the Federal Republic that employers had taken such a step.R5 From April 26 to 28, 85% of the union's eastern membership pproved the proposed strikes, and in May they struck a growing number of a!ants for almost two weeks.116 IG Metall portrayed the strike as political, con~erned with protecting the integrity of regional wage agreements without which the union foresaw no possibility of mobilizing enough power to keep eastern Germany from becoming a low-wage region. The union argued further that given the massive layoffs that had already occurred, striking could hardly be more detrimental to future employment prospects than not striking had so far been. Leaders also reminded eastern workers that if unemployment came, it would be better to be laid off at a higher wage than a lower one,' since unemployment benefits were based on the last monthly wage. 87 Martin Behrens has persuasively maintained that the union's most convincing argument for hesitant members was that the cancellation represented a breach of trust: eastern German workers had quietly accepted unprecedented layoffs; they struck only when management reneged on promises to end them.sH Thus, the union was able to paint the strike as an appropriate response to employer betrayal. By implication, eastern workers are unlikely to show this level of solidarity on a routine basis.89 After negotiations, the cancellation of the contracts was rescinded, and some modest wage concessions were made by the union. On May 17-18, 1993, 77% of the union members voted to approve the settlement.90 The revised contracts called for wage equalization in the metalworking sector by 1996. More important, they also included a "hardship" clause under which firms could petition a joint board of union and employers' representatives to be allowed to pay wages below the floor set in the regional agreement. Approval of such a hardship petition was predicated on a firm's demonstration that it could remain in business only if wages were lowered and that all other measures had been taken. Initially, the union was very resistant to granting hardship approval, however. Of the first forty-five applications, for example, only fifteen were approved. But in subsequent years, with employment
RO. Western employers also worried about the fiscal costs to the state of managing a large industrial agglomeration under the Treuhand. 81. The motives of western finns in invc;tiug were hardly uniform. The)' could buy eastern fi11ns in order to gain a foothold in eastern markets (as often happened in construction, retail sales, and food processing); control sectoral overproduction (potassium mining); prevent for· eign (often nou-EU) competitors from gaining an EU-bascd foothold (chemicals, railcar manu· facturing); purchase complements to their owu production palenes (machiner)', autos); or even shift the higher costs of western German production to the East (shipbuilding) . 82. Ulrike Rerger, "Engagement und lntcressen dt:r WirtschafLwerbande in der Transforma· tion der ostdeurschen \\'irtschaft," in Wiesenthal, Einht>il als lntt'res;mpolitik, 100-110. R3. The 71% base represented ouly !\6% of acmal wages and benefits, since it was calculated on the basis of western German mirtimmn staudards in the sector; see Sih;a, ··cerman Unifi· cation,'' 21. 84. Helmut Schauer, "Was ist das noch fijr ein TarifYertrag, den Sie uns hieten?" Fratlkjurtlf Rundsdum, May 3, 1993, I 3.
85. It was not the last. In the spring of 1997 the construction employers also canceled a valid wage agreement. Die Ztit37 (September 6, 1996). 86. Strikes occurred onlv in some of the eastern states. For more details, see IG Metall, Wir verteiriigm1lnSI'I'm Tar·ijuprlr;g; and Turner, "UnifYing Germany," 114-23. R7. One saw rhis logic repeated in a subsequent deal in which Volkswagen workers agreed to a thiny-hour work week in exchange for lower pay: the cuts were made exclusively in fringe benefits and bonus pay, so base wage rates for insurance and pension purposes would remain at the previous levels. 88. Rehrens, Die Cewerksdwftm, 31-46. . 89. For example, eastern lG Metall secretaries noted in interviews (Chemnitz, 1998) that the Intense connict over employer cancellation of some sick-pay provisions led to immediate membership increases in the West but did not do so in the East. On the more general causes of worker resignation in the metalworking sector, see Andreas Hinz. "Arbeitswelt im Umbruch: Vom So£ialtstischen Gang zur westdeutschen Klassenlotterie" (Ph.D. diss., I fniversity of GOttingen. 1996). 90. IG Me tall, Wir verll'idiffn U?HI'rm Tarifvrrtmg.
158
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IMITATION AND PouTics: R!!.DESrGNJNG MotWRN GERMANY
gr~v.'l? low, hardship clauses have become widely used. They are a compro. mise m the face of employer demands for "opening clauses" that would give works councils the legal right to approve below-contract wages. Opening clauses are at the top of.th~ agenda of.small employers in western Germany, and the employer assoClauons aggressively sought them in the EasL At one point in the strike, ~orbert Blum, the CDlJ minister oflabor, threatened the unions with a legislated "emergency opening clause" if no agreement was reached."' 1 The formal proposal to allow works councils to negotiate subcontract wage and benefit packages has generally been resisted by German unions in both East and West, but the de facto situation in man} eastern firms belies the formal prohibition on opening clauses.''l As shown above, labor market conditions have posed a stiff challenge to union-works council cooperation in eastern Germany. T he implications of this strained division oflabor arc quite significant. Unions not only typically provide works councils with u·aining, legal, and technical support but also deal with a range of conflicts over wages and benefits that are, by definition, removed from the firm itself. Although there may be a short-run convergence ol' interests between managers and "their" works councils in promoting the individual firm, they may quickly find that where their interests diverge more widely, the resulting disputes threaten to wreck all they have built. 9~ This scenario has already been played out in western Germany: in the March 1995 metal sector strike in Bavaria, firms that had good relations with works councils were deeply angered at other employers' determination to force a showdown with IG Metal!. The bitter strike resulted in the suspension of efforts in several firm~ to hammer out new agreements on work timeY1 The arm's-length relationship hurts the unions as well, since works councils have traditionall} been a crucial agent of union membership recruitment inside finns. Although the steep membership declines outlined earlier have diverse causes, the unions clearh must depend on the councils if recruitment is to bring the number., back up again. 95 !II . Reinhard Bi~pinck, ~~:Sf· Tarifnrrhll' ( 1!1!12): 122-:U ; )(, \kt.tll olloci.li., later expre<-.ed con\t('t n.tuon that their hard line on hatd.,hip cia me .. 111 t'il\tt•t n (,t•tonanv w,1.., u~ed bv the e m· plmet as~ociatiom ,~.., evidence that the union would t.tkt· 'imilat pmHioth in the proposed "opening dames" in western Germany. Th<" n uli.tl rlilko t'IH c• hc•t'>t't'll tlw hao cbhip clauses and tlw propo;('d op<"ning clauses i" that the fornwt ate negoti,lft•d hy the uniom, not by the works
160
Industrial Relations in Eastern Gmnany
In short, the transfer of western German wage bargaining has kept eastern German firms under intense cost pressures. It has led to de facto flight from l.he associations, which, in the firms' eyes, do not represent their interest in wages that more closelv approximate relative productivity (eastern German unit \,·age costs were 159% of western ones in 1991 and in 1997 were still at I25Cf.) . · The resulting unemployment has cost trade unions dearly in te rms of emplored membership. The two social partners, which represent ever smaller shares of capital and labor in eastern Gennany, have had considerable difficulrv defending the integrity of their core mission: setting wages. If exact transfer has necessitated experimentation even where the Gennan model seemed most institutionalized, it has also done so in industrial policy where the social partners had less experience.
Industrial Policy The promise of wage cqualilation made rapid privatization politically sustainabfr by achieving union support. But it also made privatization less achievable because wage costs made investment in the East less attractive than Bonn
had anticipated. Even greatly depressed Treuhand asset prices did not lure investors in the hoped-for numbers. 97 The state, it became clear, would have to help promote investment. What role could the unions assume in such an effort? Could innovation in indusu·ial policy compensate for problems that accompanied the imitation of the western wage-bargaining system? German unions have acted defensively in wage bargaining in eastern Germanv. hoping to preserve the essential pillars of a system that brought them prosperitY and autonomy in the West. In industrial policy, however, the unions had much less to preserve and have tried to innovate aggressively, expanding old policies and developing new ones in a desperate effort to sustain an emplonnent base in the East. Yet as noted earlier, West Gennan regional polio and industrial polio instruments have traditionally been modest. At its most successful, German industrial policy during periods of economic growth has required national-level political bargains over subsidy levels, complemented bv both EU-Ievel bargains over the pace of adjustment and finnlevel bargains with works councils over the development of social plans for layoffs.'"' These policies have arguably made some steel firms more profitable and leaner, but they have been substantially less successful in coal. And in 96. Bach et al., "L1botu Marke-t Trend~," wble 2. 97. \s Gt•rlindc Sinn ilnd I l,ms· Werner Sinn have argued. selling everything at once al~> pushed down prkes: set· tlwio.fumf!l/nrt: Thl' Fconomic Rnmijicai!On of&rm(ln) (Cambridge: MIT Press. 1992). 98. .Joo,ef F~sct and Wolfg.mg F.ICh. "Crisis M.magemcnt 'Made in Germany': The Steel 1~1du.ur~: in lnduttn• and l'r>ht 1r1 111 1\hl (;,-rmam: 'fownrd tluo ThiYd Republic. ed. Peter Kauenstem Uthaca: Cornclll'niu·r~il\ Prt'\\, 19!19) : 217- 18.
161
IMITATION ~:-;o
Pouncs: RHH'>JGI\I'<·
\IoDER~ Gt.RMANY
neither sector have firms been able to diversify out of their original · tries. Thus, although the West German model ha~ some impressive coordination capacity in the more modern parts of the economy, the . society bargains around older sectors have helped firms shed labor but not led to new markeL~. :'\one of this seems to provide an au~picious basis for an eastern industrial policy. Social actors were weakly constituted, and firm were yet unclear, so there was only weak pressure from eastern Germany force any early state attention to regional policies. Given existing overcapacitY, corporate interest~ in the \\'est were generally aligned preventing the growth of a large state-subsidized economy in the East, only a few had strong incentives for new investment there. Once state dies for building infrastructure indicated that former East Gennan m could be served from West German production, and after currency d ments ended the advantageous position of East German firms in East cuil)o,., pean markets, the preferred strategy of western firms was to acquire the industrial and real estate asseL~ at modest prices and then favor state subsidization of individual worker training over the subsidization of existing firma. This strateg} was intended to allow the reconstitution of East Germany's economic life to be guided by private investment.9!' In eastern Germany the west• ern German trend of the 1980s toward more firm-led industrial policies was combined with massive state support of individual training. Privatized finDI shed labor at a tremendous rate throughout 1991 and 1992, whereas the Treuhand firms (those the agency had not yet been able to sell) were restructured very little, as the organization's leadership maintained that "priva• titation is the best method of restructuring." IIHI The unions were fairly quiet during this process, focusing on membership recruitment, promoting the absorption of individual workers into the sec• ondary labor market and retraining, publicizing Treuhand layoffs, and hoping that new investment would come before deindustrialitation was complete. Rhetorically, some indu~trial unions advocated holding actions to save the "industrial cores" as the centcrpiec<' of industrial and regional policy ca~tem Germany. In the earh period after reunification the unions .·,'"u'"""~•' many such calls for coherent regional and industrial policies; however,
49. Tite pu·condition of thi~ \tr.m·~ was tht• .ttcepLdltH' h\ the eoilllk. ed. llor\t Schmitthenner (I \ ~.\, 1992). I 00. This " 1101 to '"V that the Tll·tlltand unck11ook no rnuucturing <'I ts, sec llol\t Kern a11d Charles Sahel, "Zwisc ht'll Baum unci \OF/ .\littnitmKrn. 1992.
162
lndru/linl!VU!tioll\ in Eastn11 Gn-mmn
appeared to devote few organizational or political resources to develop1 ing thclll. " .\~job los~c~ continued -.irtually unabaH·d and new investment remained loW, the unions began to develop and push a more activist policy on the Treuhand and state governments. A11 firm failures continued throughout 1991 and 1992. IG Metall-a union slower to n1.1kc its peace \\ith c.tpitalism and thus embrace industrial policy than IG Chemic, IG Bau, Stein und Erden, and I(~ Bergbau und Energie ~-bcgan lO grope toward a more activist polif'.lt "a~ motJ\ated b, the recognition that actions to maintain cmplovment w~r<' the only way to preset ve labo1 's powc1 at both the political and firm levels. Although early developments had brought the unions many new memben. it became clear that job losses ultimate!} meant membership losses and political weakness. ~ot only were unions' ma1 ket and political positions wt·ak, but time was clearly also working against them. So in 1992, IG Metall moved to counterattack before it was too late. A d1,appointing first step was the IG Metall involvement in the ATLAS program in Saxony. ATLAS was an amalgamation of nonprivatized Treuhand firms about which the Saxon Ministry of Economics could make proposals to the Treuhand. subject to input from labor and the employers. ATLAS was a disappoinunent primarily because there was no real decision-making competence. and the Land Saxony, the Treuhand, and IG Metall all maneuvered to shift the burdens and the blame. 111 J Another step began in early summer 1992. when the Aufbauwerk Sach~en -a council of IG Me tall. the employer association, and the DGB-was erected with the help of the Land government of Saxony. Again. the joint goal was to pressure the Treuhand into a specific polin to save the industrial core of the region. But it was soon apparent that the sectoral employer association opposed the holding plan because it favored the creation of smaller firms, and a stalemate quickly ensued. In response. in Januan 1993, IG Me tall proposed an industrial holding compan} that would remove the ke} remaining firms from Treuhand control and restructure th<·m under the joint auspices of the social partners. tnt The !.and govemment showed an initial interest in the plan. but then the dispute over wagt•s and the resulting su;ke shifted attenuon away from industrial policy for 111
seveJ~tl month~.
101 . Karra,th, ·ce\\erkMh.lftlidw." 102. fhese thll'<' unio11' h,l\1' ,;nee llll'lgt·d. 10:1. llol'.t "'·' 11. "lntdliJ.(t"lll<' Regulit'lllllJ.(: <..ewt·ll.'' haftlidw lkitdige i11 ( ht und \\",.,, '"' ~.rnetu ung d<·, cktl\tchen 1'1 odul.tion,mt> "indu,u·ial cott•,," even though tlwv were much 'maHer than the kev fun" in Saxom )()I "e1 n. "lnlt'llig<'ntl' Rt1:11ht·1Uill\. I H.
163
IMJI A noN AND
Pouncs:
Rt'DESH::-nN<:
Mont'R.'I GFR>.1Al\Y
In the immediate wake of the strike, IG Metall gained in confidence stature in eastern Germany, and this change helped complete a rethinking its previously skeptical attitude toward industrial policv. 1"'' Officials now tinely asserted that the union could and must push specific proposals for ing and restructuring existing firms, and the union began trving to the organizational skills needed to participate in discussions about restructuring plans for troubled firms. Given the general weakness of the in eastern Germany, the lack of funds at the !.and level, and employers' ries about sectoral overcapacitv, the unions decided to step up calls for gional and industrial policies. Although they faced major harriers v .., . 4 u:_..,,, of their own weak power position. they had clear incentives to promote employment before they were weakened further. In this context, several development-; are noteworthy-developments that reflect organi~ed labor's combination of innovative ideas and political weaJr.. ness in eastern Germam. IG Metall officials in Saxony began by pushing for the construction of umbrella organizations for sectoral restructuring. Instead of Land and Treuhand officials making restructuring and management deci· sions, unions supported a proposal that private managers be allowed to re· combine pieces of still unprivatizcd firms (including parts of the moribund ATLAS program) into more productive unit'>. The original proposal was for a small number of separate so-called Management KGs linked together in one regional organization. w~> Management KCs had been initially unpopular in eastern Germany purportedly because they reminded the stronger firms of their own disadvantageous positions under the industrial combine structure in the GDR. But those firms still unprivatit.cd as the Trcuhand closed ita doors at the end of 1994 were in a weak position to avoid incorporation. and ultimately several KGs were constructed, including ones formed around the machinerv-building plants in Chemniv and the auto subcontracLOrs in the so-called Sachsenring. The Chemnitz example illuminates both the possibilities and the limits of union involvement in regional and industrial policv. In response to huge job losses in Saxony's machinery-building region and to the bitter fights inside the public admini~tration about appropriate responses. IG Metall in 1992 pressured the employet association to form a sectoral "interest association• called the Interessenverband Chemniver MaschinenbauY'7 The ICM wal unlike anything previously seen in western Germany. The initial intent was to
10">. lntt'nit·" Franl..furt. 1993. I 06. K< .: Kommmuillf{Pielllrhaft. Tim legal fo• 111 is di~tinct from tht• ~tall( lard limited h,tbili&J and publir corporate forms U\Ualh t•ncounlt'red in IH'\Jt•rn (,t·r maJt\ . • I07. K.uhann.t Bluhm, "Rcg-ion.tlt· Un1<·• <,u:tuungsnt·JJIH'rkt• in dt•r ostdt•utsclwn Indt"tne, in Wiesenthal. Finheit n/1 /n/I'II'Hmpolitik; En'hn l'reusdw. "Hille wr '>elb,thilfe." l\1SOC Iriflll" mntumsblntt21 ( 1~193).
164
lndustnal/Ulatiom m
Efllll"TII
Gt"nnawy
bring together the union and the employers, the chamber of commerce, the cit)' gowrnment, the technical university, and the trade college as a way to coordinate employment-promotion measures. Contentious wage and worktim<' issues were consciously left out of the mandate, as was vocational training The textile machinery sectm wa'i originally excluded, but the unions later won its admission in order to make the interest association a regional in ~tead of a merely sectoral body. The ICM had some immediate success in makingjoint purchases, thus saving on mput costs for the predominantly small and medium-sized local firms. On the other hand, joint research and development moved slowly, ao; did jotnt marketing. For IG Metall the market advantages of joint action were a compkment to the political advantages of tving smaller firms togethe1 into a large• community of interests. "As individual firms, ours arc simply too small to command political attention," remarked the leader of the local , who added, "we have to stay togNher." 1Ull By 1998, however, the lobby and coordination functions the union valued in the ICM had taken a back scat to usang the association to capture subidies (especially from the EU) for the healthil·r member firms. ~1eanwhile, many smaller firms-in 1998 the ICM had fiftv-six firms-were not members of the employer associations and, whale a\·oiding contract wages, were using the ICM to provide services. Fi nallv, in 1998, when the union leadership proved unable to reverse these trends in the dire
to l""h lo""'rd 1he uniou's 'II'W of 1he
I( ;;-.1 \or
< hemuiu \l,t< hint•• 1, 1>hi1 h tr rt·,
1).\lllal P"' poM·.
165
hfiTATION A '\D POLITICS: REDESIGN IN(. MOIH.RN G~ RMAN\
3
was the pr.?tcction of the remaining firms and their <·mployces. 11 u To end the unwns, through the ICM, proposed a number of organi~ational, ca ital acquisition, and marketing strategies. The DGB regional ofTices in Dr den were skeptical of this move but did not forbid their DGB local's invol\1 mcnt. L'l~matei_r. h~we~er, th~ SPD offered the union candidate1> spaces ~ the partv s elecllon hst (mcludmg the number one position) in exchange dropping the separate list. . ~he prospect of unions acting as parties involved in making industrial po&. 10 IS a clear departure from \\'est German patterns. 1 Yet although muc:i remaim to be done, the outlines of a different kind of union activity are via~ble in Chcmnitz. Unions understand that the magnitllde of the challenge, 111 the East precludes the development of any one magic bullet. and some unions arc trying. as the Saxon experience shows, to integrate themselvea into a larger number of decision points across the institutional landscape. lit Whether this presence is achieved over the medium term will in large part depen~ on their strategy and vision. But whether it endures over the long term will also be a function of their ability to mobilit.c members.
fat
CONCLUSION: THE POLITICS OF IMITATION
In retrospect, "No experiments!" was an unrealistic slogan. Even when transfer is done exactly, it can have unintended effecL~ that require subsequent adaptation. In policy domains with historic~ of failure, efforts to traDJo fer beM practices begin a process that goes bevond merely setting up institutions; iL'> outcomes must be surveyed over time. But how can one know whether the aforementioned changes in the German model arc u·ansitional 01 permanent? Such analytical ambiguiry mirrors the region's political un· certaint,. There seem to me three plausible per!>pcctivcs on the future of ef· fort<; to build effective industrial relations institutions in eastern Germany. Although parts of each vision arc implicit in much re~earch on eastern Ger· rnanv, these three stylized perspectives should not be taken as the coherent statements of any particular actors or analysts. I have been partial to each cl them at one time or another.
110. C'ltl'lllllilzn Freie Pm1e, NO\'Cmber 6-7, 199:1. Ill. Ollirials .It DGB headquarters in Di'asseldorf ''e1 e dowurigh1 dismi~siH· ol the cflorl. i.. '"~ing tilt' "obvious" di'i~ion oflahor between parli<•s and unions. F"pcriult'nh in the East oftd pa ovokt· constt·anation and formal prohibition from wt·stl'ln twa
,~,v.. tl't n
166
tc:rritorif'{\.
lndiJJlrial Relations in Eastern Germany
The first proposes that in order to catch up to the \\'est's level of economic development, eastern Germany net•ds imtitutions different from those of "·estern Germany but only for a tcmporarv period. From this perspective, remaining differences between the two region<. are transitional; they spring from objective economic dillcrenccs whose narrowing will also allow institutional convergence over the emuing dec.1de or 1.0. As evidence, one can point to se,·et-al special measun·s that han· alrcad~ been phased out and also to a number of quite efficient eastnn Gt•ml.ln firms-including the Opel Eisenach plant visited bv President Bill Clinton in 1998-which stand as markers for an imminent increase in westt•rn German investment. Nothing in the logic of this \ision mlcs out institutional experiments in eastern German\, but it does imply that these experiment-; will not be "institutionalized" in law or become part of the key social actors' conceptions of normality. Such tacit prohibitions against institutionalization would be important in Germany. where actors' conceptions of who they are derive in important ways from what they legally can do. A second vision is agnostic about the medium-term equalization of the economies of ea~tcrn and western Germany but insists that the core of the German model depends on a degree of institutional homogeneity that is threatened by experimentation in the East. In this view, strength allows unions to be flexible in Germany, and solidarity provides that strength. Differences in collective bargaining agreements across regions and sectors or between smaller and larger firms muM be minimized in order to maintain incenti,es for firms to remain in high-value-added product markets that can deliver profits both to sustain investment and to benefit all of the employed. It is better, from this perspective, to accept the growth of compensatory welfare measures tl1an to promote 11101 e investment in eastern Germany by relaxing labor market mlcs. :\othing in this ,·ision rules out the possibility that a combination of investment subsidic11, welfare pavments, and patience may ultimatelv produce in the East an economic structure approximating that in the \fest. The key point, however, is that even if this best-case scenario does not occur, the hard-won accomplishment'> of the West German industrial relations model \\ill not have been 1 iskecl on the hope that a different model might have functioned as well in the \\'est hut even better in the East. A third vision sees exact tmnsf'er not just as generous cooperation but also as hidden competition. Eastem Ge1many's economic misery has been a function not only of the evident weaknesses of' firms, workers, and managers inherited from the GDR but alw of' a less noticed competition with the western German economy. To suggest that a hidden competition has run parallel to ~e public morality talc about the generosity of the West Germans need not 1 tnply a conspiracy theory about wc~tcrn managers. It is true that the legal constitution of indi,idual cast<.' In husi1wss sectors was driven heavily by western commercial interest!> and that investment flows left substantial eastern ca-
16i
1'-'IJTATION AND
PourJC:s: Rt.ot.~J(.'I J'
lndustriall?t-latwm in Eastern Germam
Gt:J{!\1Ar-. y
pacity vulnerable to western competitors who bought capacity and then shut it down." ~ But of course the unions also saw wage equalization as.a mechanism to vent the development of a lower-wage sector in the East that could drag do~ wages in the West-even though high wages would clearly damage empla,f ment in the E~~.t. Furth~r, the state's policy of restitution of property instea4 of compensauon made mvestment much more difficult for everyone, wh~ the !reuhan?\ fire sale approach depressed asset price'> and left easternete ownmg few v1able firms. 114 In short, the kind of competitive, calculating, ~ regarding strategic logic that one expects of experienced interest associatio 11 and state actors was evident in many aspects of the reunification process. 11 all of this, easterners were in positions of extraordinary weakness, a weak net~ masked by incorporation into interest groups dominated b} West Germana. While the GDR existed, the possibilin of "exit" to the FRG atrophied the "voice" of the East Gcnnans. 11 ,., But in
