Revisiting Rodin’s The Thinker: A Marxist Reading
By Manu Kant
Auguste Rodin’s The Thinker is one of the world’s most iconic sculptures. I have admired it since college—its form and intensity always struck me as unforgettable, a sculpture that seems to think as hard as it poses. Originally, Rodin conceived it as part of The Gates of Hell, inspired by Dante Alighieri’s Inferno. But The Gates of Hell was never finished. In 1904, Rodin enlarged the figure and presented it independently, calling it The Poet.
The Thinker emphasizes thought—not just as a way to understand nature and society, but as the source of creation itself. Rodin once wrote:
> “Guided by my first inspiration I conceived another thinker, a naked man, seated on a rock, his fist against his teeth, he dreams. The fertile thought slowly elaborates itself within his brain. He is no longer a dreamer, he is a creator.”
Ironically, the name The Thinker was not Rodin’s own. Foundry workers thought the statue looked like Michelangelo’s Il Pensieroso (The Thinker). This unintended contrast is telling: the thinker is credited with creation, while the workers—who actually create by changing nature—are sidelined. Rodin, perhaps unknowingly, placed thought above labour.
I stumbled on this conclusion quite by accident. Years ago, when my daughter studied philosophy, her teacher asked her to buy A History of Philosophy by Frank Thilly. The cover shows Rodin’s The Thinker. I was immediately struck by how Rodin seemed to elevate mental labour as the highest way to understand and transform the world.
That is why The Thinker became the universal symbol of philosophy. Thought is celebrated; labour is forgotten.
But in my view, from a materialist standpoint, the truth is different.
Labour is supreme. Thought without labour is empty; labour without thought is blind. Their unity is necessary, but labour comes first. Without the plough, the loom, the hammer, or the hand, humanity would have no history, no philosophy, no art.
The pose of The Thinker suggests deep reverie. This is why it often represents philosophy. Idealist philosophers see philosophy as pure thought, detached from the real world. But in fact, physical labour and the direct cognition of nature through our senses form the basis of understanding and transforming the world.
Goethe once said:
> “In the beginning was the deed.”
That is, action and labour—not abstract thought—are the true foundation of human knowledge.
Marx emphasized the same truth:
> “The question whether objective truth can be attributed to human thinking is not a theoretical question but a practical one. Man must prove the truth, i.e., the reality and power, of his thinking in practice.”
Engels put it simply:
> “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”
You can think endlessly about an apple, but only by tasting it will you know whether it is sweet or sour.
Mao Zedong stressed the same dialectic:
> “Practice alone is the criterion of truth.”
The key question remains: what comes first—thought or labour?
From a materialist perspective, labour came first.
Driven by the biological need to satisfy hunger, to defend against predators, and to survive nature’s fury, early humans began labour. They gathered fruit, shaped stone tools, and struck fire. These actions came before sustained thought.
It was social, cooperative labour. Primitive humans did not labour alone but together, forming the first social relations.
Engels, in The Part Played by Labour in the Transition from Ape to Man, emphasized that labour made man. The upright posture freed the hands. The hands fashioned tools. Tools transformed labour, and labour reshaped the brain.
This is the materialist truth: thought is a product of labour, not its origin. Even when thought seems to come first in particular cases, it always reflects prior practice and guides subsequent action.
Even in modern society, this remains true. Consider a factory: if a machine malfunctions, a mechanic or worker does not sit down and think abstractly about the problem. They tinker, test, and act first to identify the fault. Only through this practical engagement does understanding emerge. Thought follows action, reflecting and refining it, not preceding it.
One might wonder: what was the process through which Rodin thought of creating The Thinker? In his case, what came first—thought or labour?
The answer lies in materialist dialectics. Rodin did not dream The Thinker out of thin air. Years of hands-on work with tools and materials shaped his vision. His ability to imagine and shape The Thinker was rooted in labour itself.
This is no special exception but a concrete example of the general truth: labour is primary. Thought develops from practice and reflects it.
Rodin himself described The Thinker this way:
> “What makes my Thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain, with his knitted brow, his distended nostrils and compressed lips, but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and gripping toes.”
Even Rodin shows that the body labours in thought.
And so the puzzle remains: was Auguste Rodin first a thinker who imagined creating the statue, or a worker who created it with his hands?
The puzzle itself teaches us a key dialectical lesson: thought and labour cannot be separated. Yet if one must come first, it is labour that opens the way for thought.
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