Every school in Part 5 so far has been an argument about how to study society. This one is an argument about what has gone wrong with it, conducted by people who had personal reasons to think something had.

Critical theory is the tradition of the Institute for Social Research, founded in Frankfurt in 1923, driven into exile in 1933, and returned to Germany in 1950. Its members were, almost without exception, German Jewish intellectuals whose country attempted to murder them, and whose central question follows directly from that fact.

Traditional and critical theory

Horkheimer's 1937 essay of that name states the programme, and it defines the school's difference from everything else in Part 5.

The dialectic of enlightenment

The central and most contested argument, and it needs care because its structure is unusual.

And the argument's second half, which is what makes it "dialectic":

Enlightenment reason, having dissolved all myths, turns on itself. It can find no rational ground for any value, including its own commitment to truth. Everything becomes a matter of preference, power or utility. The disenchanted world is defenceless against whatever fills the vacuum, and what filled it in Europe was myth of a particularly murderous kind.

The culture industry

The most influential chapter, and the one that founded media sociology's critical wing.

The authoritarian personality

The Institute's major empirical work, and a case study in how a school's ambitions meet data.

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The people, briefly

Max Horkheimer (1895–1973) — director from 1930, who defined the programme and steered the Institute through exile and return.

Theodor W. Adorno (1903–1969) — philosopher, musicologist, and a trained composer who studied with Alban Berg. The most brilliant and most difficult writer of the group. Minima Moralia (1951), written in exile, is a book of aphorisms and is the best entry point to him.

Herbert Marcuse (1898–1979) — the one who stayed in America and became famous. Eros and Civilisation (1955) and One-Dimensional Man (1964) made him the philosopher of the New Left, to his own considerable ambivalence.

Walter Benjamin (1892–1940) — associated rather than a member, and the most original. "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction" (1935) argues, against Adorno, that mass reproduction destroys the aura of the artwork and thereby has democratising potential. He took his own life at the Spanish border in 1940, believing his escape from France had failed.

Erich Fromm (1900–1980) — the psychoanalyst of the early Institute; Escape from Freedom (1941) is the most readable statement of the school's founding question. He broke with the group over his revision of Freud.

Friedrich Pollock — the economist, whose analysis of "state capitalism" underlies much of the group's political economy.

And Franz Neumann, whose Behemoth (1942) is a rigorous institutional analysis of the Nazi state and remains a standard reference.

Marcuse and one-dimensional society

The criticisms, gathered

It is unfalsifiable. If prosperity proves integration and poverty proves exploitation, no evidence counts against it. This is the same defect as unreconstructed false consciousness (4.1.7), and the school did not escape it.

It is elitist. A framework in which the masses are duped and only the avant-garde and the critical theorist see clearly is condescending, and it is not an accident of tone — it follows from the structure of the argument.

It has no politics. Having concluded that the working class is integrated, culture is co-opted and reason is complicit, what is to be done? Adorno's answer was essentially nothing but negation, and in 1969 he called the police on student protesters occupying his institute — an episode that ended his relations with the movement that revered him and which is the sharpest illustration of the problem.

It is Eurocentric, and reads a European catastrophe as the truth of modernity as such.

And the empirical work was weak, as above.

What survives, and it is substantial: the analysis of instrumental reason (with Weber and Bauman); the political economy of cultural production; the insistence that culture is a site of power rather than a reflection of it; the concept of ideology as something operating through pleasure and satisfaction rather than only through belief; and the founding question — why do people accept and desire arrangements that damage them — which no one has answered better.

Why it matters

It asks the question that Marxism could not answer — why people accept and sometimes desire what harms them — and it looks for the answer in psychology and culture rather than declaring the answer to be error. Whatever one thinks of the conclusions, the question is the right one and it remains open.

It established culture as a site of power. Before the Frankfurt School, culture in sociology was mostly either Durkheimian solidarity or Marxist superstructure. After it, the production, circulation and consumption of meaning is a field of struggle with its own political economy — which is the foundation of media sociology and cultural studies.

It named the danger in instrumental reason and connected it, with Weber and later with Bauman, to the specifically modern character of twentieth-century atrocity. That argument is now widely accepted in a more disciplined form, and this is where it started.

And it demonstrates the cost of a totalising critique. Having indicted reason, culture, prosperity and the working class simultaneously, the school left itself nowhere to stand — which is precisely the problem its most important successor set out to fix.