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OUR REVOLUTION
Essays on Working-Class and International Revolution, 1904-1917
BY
LEON TROTZKY
Collected and Translated, with Biography and Explanatory Notes
BY
MOISSAYE J. OLGIN
Author of "The Soul of the Russian Revolution"
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918,
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
Published March, 1918
PREFACE
The world has not known us Russian revolutionists. The world has
sympathized with us; the world abroad has given aid and comfort to our
refugees; the world, at times, even admired us; yet the world has not
known us. Friends of freedom in Europe and America were keenly anxious
to see the victory of our cause; they watched our successes and our
defeats with breathless interest; yet they were concerned with material
results. Our views, our party affiliations, our factional divisions, our
theoretical gropings, our ideological constructions, to us the leading
lights in our revolutionary struggles, were foreign to the world. All
this was supposed to be an internal Russian affair.
The Revolution has now ceased to be an internal Russian affair. It has
become of world-wide import. It has started to influence governments and
peoples. What was not long ago a theoretical dispute between two
"underground" revolutionary circles, has grown into a concrete
historical power determining the fate of nations. What was the
individual conception of individual revolutionary leaders is now ruling
millions.
The world is now vitally interested in understanding Russia, in learning
the history of our Revolution which is the history of the great Russian
nation for the last fifty years. This involves, however, knowing not
only events, but also the development of thoughts, of aims, of ideas
that underlie and direct events; gaining an insight into the immense
volume of intellectual work which recent decades have accumulated in
revolutionary Russia.
We have selected Leon Trotzky's contribution to revolutionary thought,
not because he is now in the limelight of history, but because his
conceptions represent a very definite, a clear-cut and intrinsically
consistent trend of revolutionary thought, quite apart from that of
other leaders. We do not agree with many of Trotzky's ideas and
policies, yet we cannot overlook the fact that these ideas have become
predominant in the present phase of the Russian Revolution and that they
are bound to give their stamp to Russian democracy in the years to come,
whether the present government remains in power or not.
The reader will see that Trotzky's views as applied in Bolsheviki ruled
Russia are not of recent origin. They were formed in the course of the
First Russian Revolution of 1905, in which Trotzky was one of the
leaders. They were developed and strengthened in the following years of
reaction, when many a progressive group went to seek compromises with
the absolutist forces. They became particularly firm through the world
war and the circumstances that led to the establishment of a republican
order in Russia. Perhaps many a grievous misunderstanding and
misinterpretation would have been avoided had thinking America known
that those conceptions of Trotzky were not created on the spur of the
moment, but were the result of a life-long work in the service of the
Revolution.
Trotzky's writings, besides their theoretical and political value,
represent a vigor of style and a clarity of expression unique in Russian
revolutionary literature.
M.J. OLGIN.
New York, February 16th, 1918.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Biographical Notes 3
The Proletariat and the Revolution 23
The Events in Petersburg 47
Prospects of a Labor Dictatorship 63
The Soviet and the Revolution 147
Preface to _My Round Trip_ 163
The Lessons of the Great Year 169
On the Eve of a Revolution 179
Two Faces 187
The Growing Conflict 199
War or Peace? 205
Trotzky on the Platform in Petrograd 213
LEON TROTZKY
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES
Trotzky is a man of about forty. He is tall, strong, angular; his
appearance as well as his speech give the impression of boldness and
vigor. His voice is a high tenor ringing with metal. And even in his
quiet moments he resembles a compressed spring.
He is always aggressive. He is full of passion,--that white-hot,
vibrating mental passion that characterizes the intellectual Jew. On the
platform, as well as in private life, he bears an air of peculiar
importance, an indefinable something that says very distinctly: "Here is
a man who knows his value and feels himself chosen for superior aims."
Yet Trotzky is not imposing. He is almost modest. He is detached. In the
depths of his eyes there is a lingering sadness.
It was only natural that he, a gifted college youth with a strong
avidity for theoretical thinking, should have exchanged, some twenty
years ago, the somber class-rooms of the University of Odessa for the
fresh breezes of revolutionary activity. That was the way of most gifted
Russian youths. That especially was the way of educated young Jews whose
people were being crushed under the steam-roller of the Russian
bureaucracy.
In the last years of the nineteenth century there was hardly enough
opportunity to display unusual energy in revolutionary work. Small
circles of picked workingmen, assembling weekly under great secrecy
somewhere in a backyard cabin in a suburb, to take a course in sociology
or history or economics; now and then a "mass" meeting of a few score
laborers gathered in the woods; revolutionary appeals and pamphlets
printed on a secret press and circulated both among the educated classes
and among the people; on rare occasions, an open manifestation of
revolutionary intellectuals, such as a meeting of students within the
walls of the University--this was practically all that could be done in
those early days of Russian revolution. Into this work of preparation,
Trotzky threw himself with all his energy. Here he came into the closest
contact with the masses of labor. Here he acquainted himself with the
psychology and aspirations of working and suffering Russia. This was the
rich soil of practical experience that ever since has fed his
revolutionary ardor.
His first period of work was short. In 1900 we find him already in
solitary confinement in the prisons of Odessa, devouring book after book
to satisfy his mental hunger. No true revolutionist was ever made
downhearted by prison, least of all Trotzky, who knew it was a brief
interval of enforced idleness between periods of activity. After two and
a half years of prison "vacation" (as the confinement was called in
revolutionary jargon) Trotzky was exiled to Eastern Siberia, to Ust-Kut,
on the Lena River, where he arrived early in 1902, only to seize the
first opportunity to escape.
Again he resumed his work, dividing his time between the revolutionary
committees in Russia and the revolutionary colonies abroad. 1902 and
1903 were years of growth for the labor movement and of
Social-Democratic influence over the working masses. Trotzky, an
uncompromising Marxist, an outspoken adherent of the theory that only
the revolutionary workingmen would be able to establish democracy in
Russia, devoted much of his energy to the task of uniting the various
Social-Democratic circles and groups in the various cities of Russia
into one strong Social-Democratic Party, with a clear program and
well-defined tactics. This required a series of activities both among
the local committees and in the Social-Democratic literature which was
conveniently published abroad.
It was in connection with this work that Trotzky's first pamphlet was
published and widely read. It was entitled: _The Second Convention of
The Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party_ (Geneva, 1903), and dealt
with the controversies between the two factions of Russian
Social-Democracy which later became known as the Bolsheviki and the
Mensheviki. Trotzky's contribution was an attempt at reconciliation
between the two warring camps which professed the same Marxian theory
and pursued the same revolutionary aim. The attempt failed, as did many
others, yet Trotzky never gave up hope of uniting the alienated
brothers.
On the eve of the Revolution of 1905, Trotzky was already a
revolutionary journalist of high repute. We admired the vigor of his
style, the lucidity of his thought and the straightness of his
expression. Articles bearing the pseudonym "N. Trotzky" were an
intellectual treat, and invariably aroused heated discussions. It may
not be out of place to say a few words about this pseudonym. Many an
amazing comment has been made in the American press on the Jew Bronstein
"camouflaging" under a Russian name, Trotzky. It seems to be little
known in this country that to assume a pen name is a practice widely
followed in Russia, not only among revolutionary writers. Thus "Gorki"
is a pseudonym; "Shchedrin" (Saltykov) is a pseudonym. "Fyodor Sologub"
is a pseudonym. As to revolutionary writers, the very character of their
work has compelled them to hide their names to escape the secret police.
Ulyanov, therefore, became "Lenin," and Bronstein became "Trotzky." As
to his "camouflaging" as a Russian, this assertion is based on sheer
ignorance. Trotzky is not a genuine Russian name--no more so than
Ostrovski or Levine. True, there was a Russian playwright Ostrovski, and
Tolstoi gave his main figure in _Anna Karenin_ the name of Levine. Yet
Ostrovski and Levine are well known in Russia as Jewish names, and so is
Trotzky. I have never heard of a Gentile bearing the name Trotzky.
Trotzky has never concealed his Jewish nationality. He was too proud to
dissimulate. Pride is, perhaps, one of the dominant traits of his
powerful personality.
Revolutionary Russia did not question the race or nationality of a
writer or leader. One admired Trotzky's power over emotion, the depth of
his convictions, the vehemence of his attacks on the opponents of the
Revolution. As early as 1904, one line of his revolutionary conceptions
became quite conspicuous: _his opposition to the liberal movement in
Russia_. In a series of essays in the Social-Democratic _Iskra_
(_Spark_), in a collection of his essays published in Geneva under the
title _Before January Ninth_, he unremittingly branded the Liberals for
lack of revolutionary spirit, for cowardice in face of a hateful
autocracy, for failure to frame and to defend a thoroughly democratic
program, for readiness to compromise with the rulers on minor
concessions and thus to betray the cause of the Revolution. No one else
was as eloquent, as incisive in pointing out the timidity and meekness
of the Zemstvo opposition (Zemstvo were the local representative bodies
for the care of local affairs, and the Liberal land owners constituted
the leading party in those bodies) as the young revolutionary agitator,
Trotzky. Trotzky's fury against the wavering policy of the well-to-do
Liberals was only a manifestation of another trait of his character:
_his desire for clarity in political affairs_. Trotzky could not
conceive of half-way measures, of "diplomatic" silence over vital
topics, of cunning moves and concealed designs in political struggles.
The attitude of a Milukov, criticizing the government and yet willing to
acquiesce in a monarchy of a Prussian brand, criticizing the
revolutionists and yet secretly pleased with the horror they inflicted
upon Romanoff and his satellites, was simply incompatible with Trotzky's
very nature and aroused his impassioned contempt. To him, black was
always black, and white was white, and political conceptions ought to be
so clear as to find adequate expression in a few simple phrases.
Trotzky's own political line was the Revolution--a violent uprising of
the masses, headed by organized labor, forcibly to overthrow bureaucracy
and establish democratic freedom. With what an outburst of blazing joy
he greeted the upheaval of January 9, 1905--the first great
mass-movement in Russia with clear political aims: "The Revolution has
come!" he shouted in an ecstatic essay completed on January 20th. "The
Revolution has come. One move of hers has lifted the people over scores
of steps, up which in times of peace we would have had to drag ourselves
with hardships and fatigue. The Revolution has come and destroyed the
plans of so many politicians who had dared to make their little
political calculations with no regard for the master, the revolutionary
people. The Revolution has come and destroyed scores of superstitions,
and has manifested the power of the program which is founded on the
revolutionary logic of the development of the masses.... The Revolution
has come and the period of our infancy has passed."
The Revolution filled the entire year of 1905 with the battle cries of
ever-increasing revolutionary masses. The political strike became a
powerful weapon. The village revolts spread like wild-fire. The
government became frightened. It was under the sign of this great
conflagration that Trotzky framed his theory of _immediate transition
from absolutism to a Socialist order_. His line of argument was very
simple. The working class, he wrote, was the only real revolutionary
power. The bourgeoisie was weak and incapable of adroit resistance. The
intellectual groups were of no account. The peasantry was politically
primitive, yet it had an overwhelming desire for land. "Once the
Revolution is victorious, political power necessarily passes into the
hands of the class that has played a leading role in the struggle, and
that is the working class." To secure permanent power, the working class
would have to win over the millions of peasants. This would be possible
by recognizing all the agrarian changes completed by the peasants in
time of the revolution and by a radical agrarian legislation. "Once in
power, the proletariat will appear before the peasantry as its
liberator." On the other hand, having secured its class rule over
Russia, why should the proletariat help to establish parliamentary rule,
which is the rule of the bourgeois classes over the people? "To imagine
that Social-Democracy participates in the Provisional Government,
playing a leading role in the period of revolutionary democratic
reconstruction, insisting on the most radical reforms and all the time
enjoying the aid and support of the organized proletariat,--only to step
aside when the democratic program is put into operation, to leave the
completed building at the disposal of the bourgeois parties and thus to
open an era of parliamentary politics where Social-Democracy forms only
a party of opposition,--to imagine this would mean to compromise the
very idea of a labor government." Moreover, "once the representatives of
the proletariat enter the government, not as powerless hostages, but as
a leading force, the divide between the minimum-program and the
maximum-program automatically disappears, collectivism becomes the order
of the day," since "political supremacy of the proletariat is
incompatible with its economic slavery." It was precisely the same
program which Trotzky is at present attempting to put into operation.
This program has been his guiding star for the last twelve years.
In the fall of 1905 it looked as if Trotzky's hope was near its
realization. The October strike brought autocracy to its knees. A
Constitution was promised. A Soviet (Council of Workmen's Deputies) was
formed in Petersburg to conduct the Revolution. Trotzky became one of
the strongest leaders of the Council. It was in those months that we
became fully aware of two qualities of Trotzky's which helped him to
master men: his power as a speaker, and his ability to write short,
stirring articles comprehensible to the masses. In the latter ability
nobody equals him among Russian Socialists. The leaders of Russian
Social-Democracy were wont to address themselves to the intellectual
readers. Socialist writers of the early period of the Revolution were
seldom confronted with the necessity of writing for plain people.
Trotzky was the best among the few who, in the stormy months of the 1905
revolution, were able to appeal to the masses in brief, strong, yet
dignified articles full of thought, vision, and emotion.
The Soviet was struggling in a desperate situation. Autocracy had
promised freedom, yet military rule was becoming ever more atrocious.
The sluices of popular revolutionary movement were open, yet
revolutionary energy was being gradually exhausted. The Soviet acted as
a true revolutionary government, ignoring the government of the
Romanoffs, giving orders to the workingmen of the country, keeping a
watchful eye on political events; yet the government of the old regime
was regaining its self-confidence and preparing for a final blow. The
air was full of bad omens.
It required an unusual degree of revolutionary faith and vigor to
conduct the affairs of the Soviet. Trotzky was the man of the hour.
First a member of the Executive Committee, then the chairman of the
Soviet, he was practically in the very vortex of the Revolution. He
addressed meetings, he ordered strikes, he provided the vanguard of the
workingmen with firearms; he held conferences with representatives of
labor unions throughout the country, and--the irony of history--he
repeatedly appeared before the Ministers of the old regime as a
representative of labor democracy to demand from them the release of a
prisoner or the abolition of some measures obnoxious to labor. It was in
this school of the Soviet that Trotzky learned to see events in a
national aspect, and it was the very existence of the Soviet which
confirmed his belief in the possibility of a revolutionary proletarian
dictatorship. Looking backward at the activities of the Soviet, he thus
characterized that prototype of the present revolutionary government in
Russia. "The Soviet," he wrote, "was the organized authority of the
masses themselves over their separate members. This was a true,
unadulterated democracy, without a two-chamber system, without a
professional bureaucracy, with the right of the voters to recall their
representative at will and to substitute another." In short, it was the
same type of democracy Trotzky and Lenin are trying to make permanent in
present-day Russia.
The black storm soon broke loose. Trotzky was arrested with the other
members of the "revolutionary government," after the Soviet had existed
for about a month and a half. Trotzky went to prison, not in despair,
but as a leader of an invincible army which though it had suffered
temporary defeat, was bound to win. Trotzky had to wait twelve years for
the moment of triumph, yet the moment came.
In prison Trotzky was very active, reading, writing, trying to sum up
his experience of the revolutionary year. After twelve months of
solitary confinement he was tried and sentenced to life exile in
Siberia: the government of the enemies of the people was wreaking
vengeance on the first true representatives of the people. On January 3,
1907, Trotzky started his trip for Obdorsk, in Northern Siberia on the
Arctic Ocean.
He was under unusual rigid surveillance even for Russian prisons. Each
movement of his and of his comrades was carefully guarded. No
communication with the outer world was permitted. The very journey was
surrounded by great secrecy. Yet such was the fame of the Soviet, that
crowds gathered at every station to greet the prisoners' train, and even
the soldiers showed extraordinary respect for the imprisoned
"workingmen's deputies" as they called them. "We are surrounded by
friends on every side," Trotzky wrote in his note book.
In Tiumen the prisoners had to leave the railway train for sleighs
drawn by horses. The journey became very tedious and slow. The monotony
was broken only by little villages, where revolutionary exiles were
detained. Here and there the exiles would gather to welcome the leaders
of the revolution. Red flags gave touches of color to the blinding white
of the Siberian snow. "Long live the Revolution!" was printed with huge
letters on the surface of the northern snow, along the road. This was
beautiful, but it gave little consolation. The country became ever more
desolate. "Every day we move down one step into the kingdom of cold and
wilderness," Trotzky remarked in his notes.
It was a gloomy prospect, to spend years and years in this God forsaken
country. Trotzky was not the man to submit. In defiance of difficulties,
he managed to escape before he reached the town of his destination. As
there was only one road along which travelers could move, and as there
was danger that authorities, notified by wire of his escape, could stop
him at any moment, he left the road and on a sleigh drawn by reindeer he
crossed an unbroken wilderness of 800 versts, over 500 miles. This
required great courage and physical endurance. The picturesque journey
is described by Trotzky in a beautiful little book, _My Round Trip_.
It was in this Ostiak sleigh, in the midst of a bleak desert, that he
celebrated the 20th of February, the day of the opening of the Second
Duma. It was a mockery at Russia: here, the representatives of the
people, assembled in the quasi-Parliament of Russia; there, a
representative of the Revolution that created the Duma, hiding like a
criminal in a bleak wilderness. Did he dream in those long hours of his
journey, that some day the wave of the Revolution would bring him to the
very top?
Early in spring he arrived abroad. He established his home in Vienna
where he lived till the outbreak of the great war. His time and energy
were devoted to the internal affairs of the Social-Democratic Party and
to editing a popular revolutionary magazine which was being smuggled
into Russia. He earned a meager living by contributing to Russian
"legal" magazines and dailies.
I met him first in 1907, in Stuttgart. He seemed to be deeply steeped in
the revolutionary factional squabbles. Again I met him in Copenhagen in
1910. He was the target of bitter criticism for his press-comment on one
of the Social-Democratic factions. He seemed to be dead to anything but
the problem of reconciling the Bolsheviki with the Mensheviki and the
other minor divisions. Yet that air of importance which distinguished
him even from the famous old leaders had, in 1910, become more apparent.
By this time he was already a well-known and respected figure in the
ranks of International Socialism.
In the fall of 1912 he went into the Balkans as a war correspondent.
There he learned to know the Balkan situation from authentic sources.
His revelations of the atrocities committed on both sides attracted wide
attention. When he came back to Vienna in 1913 he was a stronger
internationalist and a stronger anti-militarist than ever.
His house in Vienna was a poor man's house, poorer than that of an
ordinary American workingman earning eighteen dollars a week. Trotzky
has been poor all his life. His three rooms in a Vienna working-class
suburb contained less furniture than was necessary for comfort. His
clothes were too cheap to make him appear "decent" in the eyes of a
middle-class Viennese. When I visited his house I found Mrs. Trotzky
engaged in housework, while the two light-haired lovely boys were
lending not inconsiderable assistance. The only thing that cheered the
house were loads of books in every corner, and, perhaps, great though
hidden hopes.
On August 3, 1914, the Trotzkys, as enemy aliens, had to leave Vienna
for Zurich, Switzerland. Trotzky's attitude towards the war was a very
definite one from the very beginning. He accused German Social-Democracy
for having voted the war credits and thus endorsed the war. He accused
the Socialist parties of all the belligerent countries for having
concluded a truce with their governments which in his opinion was
equivalent to supporting militarism. He bitterly deplored the collapse
of Internationalism as a great calamity for the emancipation of the
world. Yet, even in those times of distress, he did not remain inactive.
He wrote a pamphlet to the German workingmen entitled _The War and
Internationalism_ (recently translated into English and published in
this country under the title _The Bolsheviki and World Peace_) which was
illegally transported into Germany and Austria by aid of Swiss
Socialists. For this attempt to enlighten the workingmen, one of the
German courts tried him in a state of contumacy and sentenced him to
imprisonment. He also contributed to a Russian Socialist daily of
Internationalist aspirations which was being published by Russian
exiles in Paris. Later he moved to Paris to be in closer contact with
that paper. Due to his radical views on the war, however, he was
compelled to leave France. He went to Spain, but the Spanish government,
though not at war, did not allow him to stay in that country. He was
himself convinced that the hand of the Russian Foreign Ministry was in
all his hardships.
So it happened that in the winter 1916-1917, he came to the United
States. When I met him here, he looked haggard; he had grown older, and
there was fatigue in his expression. His conversation hinged around the
collapse of International Socialism. He thought it shameful and
humiliating that the Socialist majorities of the belligerent countries
had turned "Social-Patriots." "If not for the minorities of the
Socialist parties, the true Socialists, it would not be worth while
living," he said once with deep sadness. Still, he strongly believed in
the internationalizing spirit of the war itself, and expected humanity
to become more democratic and more sound after cessation of hostilities.
His belief in an impending Russian Revolution was unshaken. Similarly
unshaken was his mistrust of the Russian non-Socialist parties. On
January 20, 1917, less than two months before the overthrow of the
Romanoffs, he wrote in a local Russian paper: "Whoever thinks critically
over the experience of 1905, whoever draws a line from that year to the
present day, must conceive how utterly lifeless and ridiculous are the
hopes of our Social-Patriots for a revolutionary cooeperation between the
proletariat and the Liberal bourgeoisie in Russia."
His demand for _clarity_ in political affairs had become more pronounced
during the war and through the distressing experiences of the war.
"There are times," he wrote on February 7, 1917, "when diplomatic
evasiveness, casting glances with one eye to the right, with the other
to the left, is considered wisdom. Such times are now vanishing before
our eyes, and their heroes are losing credit. War, as revolution, puts
problems in their clearest form. For war or against war? For national
defense or for revolutionary struggle? The fierce times we are living
now demand in equal measure both fearlessness of thought and bravery of
character."
When the Russian Revolution broke out, it was no surprise for Trotzky.
He had anticipated it. He had scented it over the thousands of miles
that separated him from his country. He did not allow his joy to
overmaster him. The March revolution in his opinion was only a
beginning. It was only an introduction to a long drawn fight which would
end in the establishment of Socialism.
History seemed to him to have fulfilled what he had predicted in 1905
and 1906. The working class was the leading power in the Revolution. The
Soviets became even more powerful than the Provisional Government.
Trotzky preached that it was the task of the Soviets to become _the_
government of Russia. It was his task to go to Russia and fight for a
labor government, for Internationalism, for world peace, for a world
revolution. "If the first Russian revolution of 1905," he wrote on March
20th, "brought about revolutions in Asia,--in Persia, Turkey,
China,--the second Russian revolution will be the beginning of a
momentous Social-revolutionary struggle in Europe. Only this struggle
will bring real peace to the blood-drenched world."
With these hopes he went to Russia,--to forge a Socialist Russia in the
fire of the Revolution.
Whatever may be our opinion of the merits of his policies, the man has
remained true to himself. His line has been straight.
THE PROLETARIAT AND THE REVOLUTION
The essay _The Proletariat and the Revolution_ was published at the
close of 1904, nearly one year after the beginning of the war with
Japan. This was a crucial year for the autocratic rulers of Russia.
It started with patriotic demonstrations, it ended with a series of
humiliating defeats on the battlefields and with an unprecedented
revival of political activities on the part of the well-to-do
classes. The Zemstvos (local elective bodies for the care of local
affairs) headed by liberal landowners, conducted a vigorous
political campaign in favor of a constitutional order. Other
liberal groups, organizations of professionals (referred to in
Trotzky's essay as "democrats" and "democratic elements") joined in
the movement. The Zemstvo leaders called an open convention in
Petersburg (November 6th), which demanded civic freedom and a
Constitution. The "democratic elements" organized public gatherings
of a political character under the disguise of private banquets.
The liberal press became bolder in its attack on the
administration. The government tolerated the movement. Prince
Svyatopolk-Mirski, who had succeeded Von Plehve, the reactionary
dictator assassinated in July, 1904, by a revolutionist, had
promised "cordial relations" between government and society. In the
political jargon, this period of tolerance, lasting from August to
the end of the year, was known as the era of "Spring."
It was a thrilling time, full of political hopes and expectation.
Yet, strange enough, the working class was silent. The working
class had shown great dissatisfaction in 1902 and especially in
summer, 1903, when scores of thousands in the southwest and in the
South went on a political strike. During the whole of 1904,
however, there were almost no mass-manifestations on the part of
the workingmen. This gave an occasion to many a liberal to scoff at
the representatives of the revolutionary parties who built all
their tactics on the expectation of a national revolution.
To answer those skeptics and to encourage the active members of the
Social-Democratic party, Trotzky wrote his essay. Its main value,
which lends it historic significance, is the clear diagnosis of the
political situation. Though living abroad, Trotzky keenly felt the
pulse of the masses, the "pent up revolutionary energy" which was
seeking for an outlet. His description of the course of a national
revolution, the role he attributes to the workingmen, the
non-proletarian population of the cities, the educated groups, and
the army; his estimation of the influence of the war on the minds
of the raw masses; finally, the slogans he puts before the
revolution,--all this corresponds exactly to what happened during
the stormy year of 1905. Reading _The Proletariat and the
Revolution_, the student of Russian political life has a feeling
as if the essay had been written _after_ the Revolution, so closely
it follows the course of events. Yet, it appeared before January
9th, 1905, i.e., before the first great onslaught of the Petersburg
proletariat.
Trotzky's belief in the revolutionary initiative of the working
class could not be expressed in a more lucid manner.
The proletariat must not only conduct a revolutionary propaganda. The
proletariat itself must move towards a revolution.
To move towards a revolution does not necessarily mean to fix a date for
an insurrection and to prepare for that day. You never can fix a day and
an hour for a revolution. The people have never made a revolution by
command.
What _can_ be done is, in view of the fatally impending catastrophe, to
choose the most appropriate positions, to arm and inspire the masses
with a revolutionary slogan, to lead simultaneously all the reserves
into the field of battle, to make them practice in the art of fighting,
to keep them ready under arms,--and to send an alarm all over the lines
when the time has arrived.
Would that mean a series of exercises only, and not a decisive combat
with the enemy forces? Would that be mere manoeuvers, and not a street
revolution?
Yes, that would be mere manoeuvers. There is a difference, however,
between revolutionary and military manoeuvers. Our preparations can
turn, at any time and independent of our will, into a real battle which
would decide the long drawn revolutionary war. Not only can it be so, it
_must_ be. This is vouched for by the acuteness of the present political
situation which holds in its depths a tremendous amount of revolutionary
explosives.
At what time mere manoeuvers would turn into a real battle, depends
upon the volume and the revolutionary compactness of the masses, upon
the atmosphere of popular sympathy which surrounds them and upon the
attitude of the troops which the government moves against the people.
Those three elements of success must determine our work of preparation.
Revolutionary proletarian masses _are_ in existence. We ought to be able
to call them into the streets, at a given time, all over the country; we
ought to be able to unite them by a general slogan.
All classes and groups of the people are permeated with hatred towards
absolutism, and that means with sympathy for the struggle for freedom.
We ought to be able to concentrate this sympathy on the proletariat as a
revolutionary power which alone can be the vanguard of the people in
their fight to save the future of Russia. As to the mood of the army, it
hardly kindles the heart of the government with great hopes. There has
been many an alarming symptom for the last few years; the army is
morose, the army grumbles, there are ferments of dissatisfaction in the
army. We ought to do all at our command to make the army detach itself
from absolutism at the time of a decisive onslaught of the masses.
Let us first survey the last two conditions, which determine the course
and the outcome of the campaign.
We have just gone through the period of "political renovation" opened
under the blare of trumpets and closed under the hiss of knouts,--the
era of Svyatopolk-Mirski--the result of which is hatred towards
absolutism aroused among all the thinking elements of society to an
unusual pitch. The coming days will reap the fruit of stirred popular
hopes and unfulfilled government's pledges. Political interest has
lately taken more definite shape; dissatisfaction has grown deeper and
is founded on a more outspoken theoretical basis. Popular thinking,
yesterday utterly primitive, now greedily takes to the work of political
analysis. All manifestations of evil and arbitrary power are being
speedily traced back to the principal cause. Revolutionary slogans no
more frighten the people; on the contrary, they arouse a thousandfold
echo, they pass into proverbs. The popular consciousness absorbs each
word of negation, condemnation or curse addressed towards absolutism, as
a sponge absorbs fluid substance. No step of the administration remains
unpunished. Each of its blunders is carefully taken account of. Its
advances are met with ridicule, its threats breed hatred. The vast
apparatus of the liberal press circulates daily thousands of facts,
stirring, exciting, inflaming popular emotion.
The pent up feelings are seeking an outlet. Thought strives to turn into
action. The vociferous liberal press, however, while feeding popular
unrest, tends to divert its current into a small channel; it spreads
superstitious reverence for "public opinion," helpless, unorganized
"public opinion," which does not discharge itself into action; it brands
the revolutionary method of national emancipation; it upholds the
illusion of legality; it centers all the attention and all the hopes of
the embittered groups around the Zemstvo campaign, thus systematically
preparing a great debacle for the popular movement. Acute
dissatisfaction, finding no outlet, discouraged by the inevitable
failure of the legal Zemstvo campaign which has no traditions of
revolutionary struggle in the past and no clear prospects in the future,
must necessarily manifest itself in an outbreak of desperate terrorism,
leaving radical intellectuals in the role of helpless, passive, though
sympathetic onlookers, leaving liberals to choke in a fit of platonic
enthusiasm while lending doubtful assistance.
This ought not to take place. We ought to take hold of the current of
popular excitement; we ought to turn the attention of numerous
dissatisfied social groups to one colossal undertaking headed by the
proletariat,--to the _National Revolution_.
The vanguard of the Revolution ought to wake from indolence all other
elements of the people; to appear here and there and everywhere; to put
the questions of political struggle in the boldest possible fashion; to
call, to castigate, to unmask hypocritical democracy; to make democrats
and Zemstvo liberals clash against each other; to wake again and again,
to call, to castigate, to demand a clear answer to the question, _What
are you going to do?_ to allow no retreat; to compel the legal liberals
to admit their own weakness; to alienate from them the democratic
elements and help the latter along the way of the revolution. To do this
work means to draw the threads of sympathy of all the democratic
opposition towards the revolutionary campaign of the proletariat.
We ought to do all in our power to draw the attention and gain the
sympathy of the poor non-proletarian city population. During the last
mass actions of the proletariat, as in the general strikes of 1903 in
the South, nothing was done in this respect, and this was the weakest
point of the preparatory work. According to press correspondents, the
queerest rumors often circulated among the population as to the
intentions of the strikers. The city inhabitants expected attacks on
their houses, the store keepers were afraid of being looted, the Jews
were in a dread of pogroms. This ought to be avoided. _A political
strike, as a single combat of the city proletariat with the police and
the army, the remaining population being hostile or even indifferent, is
doomed to failure._
The indifference of the population would tell primarily on the morale of
the proletariat itself, and then on the attitude of the soldiers. Under
such conditions, the stand of the administration must necessarily be
more determined. The generals would remind the officers, and the
officers would pass to the soldiers the words of Dragomirov: "Rifles are
given for sharp shooting, and nobody is permitted to squander cartridges
for nothing."
_A political strike of the proletariat ought to turn into a political
demonstration of the population_, this is the first prerequisite of
success.
The second important prerequisite is the mood of the army. A
dissatisfaction among the soldiers, a vague sympathy for the
"revoluters," is an established fact. Only part of this sympathy may
rightly be attributed to our direct propaganda among the soldiers. The
major part is done by the practical clashes between army units and
protesting masses. Only hopeless idiots or avowed scoundrels dare to
shoot at a living target. An overwhelming majority of the soldiers are
loathe to serve as executioners; this is unanimously admitted by all
correspondents describing the battles of the army with unarmed people.
The average soldier aims above the heads of the crowd. It would be
unnatural if the reverse were the case. When the Bessarabian regiment
received orders to quell the Kiev general strike, the commander declared
he could not vouch for the attitude of his soldiers. The order, then,
was sent to the Cherson regiment, but there was not one half-company in
the entire regiment which would live up to the expectations of their
superiors.
Kiev was no exception. The conditions of the army must now be more
favorable for the revolution than they were in 1903. We have gone
through a year of war. It is hardly possible to measure the influence of
the past year on the minds of the army. The influence, however, must be
enormous. War draws not only the attention of the people, it arouses
also the professional interest of the army. Our ships are slow, our guns
have a short range, our soldiers are uneducated, our sergeants have
neither compass nor map, our soldiers are bare-footed, hungry, and
freezing, our Red Cross is stealing, our commissariat is
stealing,--rumors and facts of this kind leak down to the army and are
being eagerly absorbed. Each rumor, as strong acid, dissolves the rust
of mental drill. Years of peaceful propaganda could hardly equal in
their results one day of warfare. The mere mechanism of discipline
remains, the faith, however, the conviction that it is right to carry
out orders, the belief that the present conditions can be continued,
are rapidly dwindling. The less faith the army has in absolutism, the
more faith it has in its foes.
We ought to make use of this situation. We ought to explain to the
soldiers the meaning of the workingmen's action which is being prepared
by the Party. We ought to make profuse use of the slogan which is bound
to unite the army with the revolutionary people, _Away with the War!_ We
ought to create a situation where the officers would not be able to
trust their soldiers at the crucial moment. This would reflect on the
attitude of the officers themselves.
The rest will be done by the street. It will dissolve the remnants of
the barrack-hypnosis in the revolutionary enthusiasm of the people.
The main factor, however, remain the revolutionary masses. True it is
that during the war the most advanced elements of the masses, the
thinking proletariat, have not stepped openly to the front with that
degree of determination which was required by the critical historic
moment. Yet it would manifest a lack of political backbone and a
deplorable superficiality, should one draw from this fact any kind of
pessimistic conclusions.
The war has fallen upon our public life with all its colossal weight.
The dreadful monster, breathing blood and fire, loomed up on the
political horizon, shutting out everything, sinking its steel clutches
into the body of the people, inflicting wound upon wound, causing mortal
pain, which for a moment makes it even impossible to ask for the causes
of the pain. The war, as every great disaster, accompanied by crisis,
unemployment, mobilization, hunger and death, stunned the people, caused
despair, but not protest. This is, however, only a beginning. Raw masses
of the people, silent social strata, which yesterday had no connection
with the revolutionary elements, were knocked by sheer mechanical power
of facts to face the central event of present-day Russia, the war. They
were horrified, they could not catch their breaths. The revolutionary
elements, who prior to the war had ignored the passive masses, were
affected by the atmosphere of despair and concentrated horror. This
atmosphere enveloped them, it pressed with a leaden weight on their
minds. The voice of determined protest could hardly be raised in the
midst of elemental suffering. The revolutionary proletariat which had
not yet recovered from the wounds received in July, 1903, was powerless
to oppose the "call of the primitive."
The year of war, however, passed not without results. Masses, yesterday
primitive, to-day are confronted with the most tremendous events. They
must seek to understand them. The very duration of the war has produced
a desire for reasoning, for questioning as to the meaning of it all.
Thus the war, while hampering for a period of time the revolutionary
initiative of thousands, has awakened to life the political thought of
millions.
The year of war passed not without results, not a single day passed
without results. In the lower strata of the people, in the very depths
of the masses, a work was going on, a movement of molecules,
imperceptible, yet irresistible, incessant, a work of accumulating
indignation, bitterness, revolutionary energy. The atmosphere our
streets are breathing now is no longer an atmosphere of blank despair,
it is an atmosphere of concentrated indignation which seeks for means
and ways for revolutionary action. Each expedient action of the vanguard
of our working masses would now carry away with it not only all our
revolutionary reserves, but also thousands and hundreds of thousands of
revolutionary recruits. This mobilization, unlike the mobilization of
the government, would be carried out in the presence of general
sympathy and active assistance of an overwhelming majority of the
population.
In the presence of strong sympathies of the masses, in the presence of
active assistance on the part of the democratic elements of the people;
facing a government commonly hated, unsuccessful both in big and in
small undertakings, a government defeated on the seas, defeated in the
fields of battle, despised, discouraged, with no faith in the coming
day, a government vainly struggling, currying favor, provoking and
retreating, lying and suffering exposure, insolent and frightened;
facing an army whose morale has been shattered by the entire course of
the war, whose valor, energy, enthusiasm and heroism have met an
insurmountable wall in the form of administrative anarchy, an army which
has lost faith in the unshakable security of a regime it is called to
serve, a dissatisfied, grumbling army which more than once has torn
itself free from the clutches of discipline during the last year and
which is eagerly listening to the roar of revolutionary voices,--such
will be the conditions under which the revolutionary proletariat will
walk out into the streets. It seems to us that no better conditions
could have been created by history for a final attack. History has done
everything it was allowed by elemental wisdom. The thinking
revolutionary forces of the country have to do the rest.
A tremendous amount of revolutionary energy has been accumulated. It
should not vanish with no avail, it should not be dissipated in
scattered engagements and clashes, with no coherence and no definite
plan. All efforts ought to be made to concentrate the bitterness, the
anger, the protest, the rage, the hatred of the masses, to give those
emotions a common language, a common goal, to unite, to solidify all the
particles of the masses, to make them feel and understand that they are
not isolated, that simultaneously, with the same slogan on the banner,
with the same goal in mind, innumerable particles are rising everywhere.
If this understanding is achieved, half of the revolution is done.
We have got to summon all revolutionary forces to simultaneous action.
How can we do it?
First of all we ought to remember that the main scene of revolutionary
events is bound to be the city. Nobody is likely to deny this. It is
evident, further, that street demonstrations can turn into a popular
revolution only when they are a manifestation of _masses_, i.e., when
they embrace, in the first place, the workers of factories and plants.
To make the workers quit their machines and stands; to make them walk
out of the factory premises into the street; to lead them to the
neighboring plant; to proclaim there a cessation of work; to make new
masses walk out into the street; to go thus from factory to factory,
from plant to plant, incessantly growing in numbers, sweeping police
barriers, absorbing new masses that happened to come across, crowding
the streets, taking possession of buildings suitable for popular
meetings, fortifying those buildings, holding continuous revolutionary
meetings with audiences coming and going, bringing order into the
movements of the masses, arousing their spirit, explaining to them the
aim and the meaning of what is going on; to turn, finally, the entire
city into one revolutionary camp, this is, broadly speaking, the plan of
action.
The starting point ought to be the factories and plants. That means that
street manifestations of a serious character, fraught with decisive
events, ought to begin with _political strikes of the masses_.
It is easier to fix a date for a strike, than for a demonstration of
the people, just as it is easier to move masses ready for action than to
organize new masses.
A political strike, however, not a _local, but a general political
strike all over Russia_,--ought to have a general political slogan. This
slogan is: _to stop the war and to call a National Constituent
Assembly_.
This demand ought to become nation-wide, and herein lies the task for
our propaganda preceding the all-Russian general strike. We ought to use
all possible occasions to make the idea of a National Constituent
Assembly popular among the people. Without losing one moment, we ought
to put into operation all the technical means and all the powers of
propaganda at our disposal. Proclamations and speeches, educational
circles and mass-meetings ought to carry broadcast, to propound and to
explain the demand of a Constituent Assembly. There ought to be not one
man in a city who should not know that his demand is: a National
Constituent Assembly.
The peasants ought to be called to assemble on the day of the political
strike and to pass resolutions demanding the calling of a Constituent
Assembly. The suburban peasants ought to be called into the cities to
participate in the street movements of the masses gathered under the
banner of a Constituent Assembly. All societies and organizations,
professional and learned bodies, organs of self-government and organs of
the opposition press ought to be notified in advance by the workingmen
that they are preparing for an all-Russian political strike, fixed for a
certain date, to bring about the calling of a Constituent Assembly. The
workingmen ought to demand from all societies and corporations that, on
the day appointed for the mass-manifestation, they should join in the
demand of a National Constituent Assembly. The workingmen ought to
demand from the opposition press that it should popularize their slogan
and that on the eve of the demonstration it should print an appeal to
the population to join the proletarian manifestation under the banner of
a National Constituent Assembly.
We ought to carry on the most intensive propaganda in the army in order
that on the day of the strike each soldier, sent to curb the "rebels,"
should know that he is facing the people who are demanding a National
Constituent Assembly.
EXPLANATORY NOTES
"_The hiss of the knout_" which ended the era of "cordial
relations" was a statement issued by the government on December 12,
1904, declaring that "all disturbances of peace and order and all
gatherings of an anti-governmental character must and will be
stopped by all legal means in command of the authorities." The
Zemstvo and municipal bodies were advised to keep from political
utterings. As to the Socialist parties, and to labor movement in
general, they were prosecuted under Svyatopolk-Mirski as severely
as under Von Plehve.
"_The vast apparatus of the liberal press_" was the only way to
reach millions. The revolutionary "underground" press, which
assumed towards 1905 unusual proportions, could, after all, reach
only a limited number of readers. In times of political unrest, the
public became used to read between the lines of the legal press all
it needed to feed its hatred of oppression.
By "_legal_" _press_, "_legal_" _liberals_ are meant the open
public press and those liberals who were trying to comply with the
legal requirements of absolutism even in their work of condemning
the absolutist order. The term "legal" is opposed by the term
"revolutionary" which is applied to political actions in defiance
of law.
_Dragomirov_ was for many years Commander of the Kiev Military
region and known by his epigrammatic style.
THE EVENTS IN PETERSBURG
This is an essay of triumph. Written on January 20, 1905, eleven
days after the "bloody Sunday," it gave vent to the enthusiastic
feelings of every true revolutionist aroused by unmistakable signs
of an approaching storm. The march of tens of thousands of
workingmen to the Winter Palace to submit to the "Little Father" a
petition asking for "bread and freedom," was on the surface a
peaceful and loyal undertaking. Yet it breathed indignation and
revolt. The slaughter of peaceful marchers (of whom over 5,000 were
killed or wounded) and the following wave of hatred and
revolutionary determination among the masses, marked the beginning
of broad revolutionary uprisings.
For Trotzky, the awakening of the masses to political activity was
not only a good revolutionary omen, but also a defeat of liberal
ideology and liberal tactics. Those tactics had been planned under
the assumption that the Russian people were not ripe for a
revolution. Trotzky, a thorough revolutionist, _saw_ in the liberal
movement a manifestation of political superstitions. To him, the
_only_ way to overthrow absolutism was the way of a violent
revolution. Yet, when the liberals proudly asserted that the
revolutionary masses of Russia were only a creation of the
overheated phantasy of the revolutionists, while the movement of
the well-to-do intelligent elements was a flagrant fact, the
Social-Democrats had no material proofs to the contrary, except
sporadic outbursts of unrest among the workingmen and, of course,
the conviction of those revolutionists who were in touch with the
masses. It is, therefore, easy to understand the triumph of a
Trotzky or any other Socialist after January 9th. In Trotzky's
opinion, the 9th of January had put liberalism into the archives.
"We are done with it for the entire period of the revolution," he
exclaims. The most remarkable part of this essay, as far as
political vision is concerned, is Trotzky's prediction that the
left wing of the "Osvoboshdenie" liberals (later organized as the
Constitutional Democratic Party) would attempt to become leaders of
the revolutionary masses and to "tame" them. The Liberals did not
fail to make the attempt in 1905 and 1906, but with no success
whatever. Neither did Social-Democracy, however, completely succeed
in leading the masses all through the revolution, in the manner
outlined by Trotzky in this essay. True, the Social-Democrats were
the party that gained the greatest influence over the workingmen in
the stormy year of 1905; their slogans were universally accepted by
the masses; their members were everywhere among the first ranks of
revolutionary forces; yet events developed too rapidly and
spontaneously to make the leadership of a political organization
possible.
How invincibly eloquent are facts! How utterly powerless are words!
The masses have made themselves heard! They have kindled revolutionary
flames on Caucasian hill-tops; they have clashed, breast against breast,
with the guards' regiments and the cossacks on that unforgettable day of
January Ninth; they have filled the streets and squares of industrial
cities with the noise and clatter of their fights....
The revolutionary masses are no more a theory, they are a fact. For the
Social-Democratic Party there is nothing new in this fact. We had
predicted it long ago. We had seen its coming at a time when the noisy
liberal banquets seemed to form a striking contrast with the political
silence of the people. _The revolutionary masses are a fact_, was our
assertion. The clever liberals shrugged their shoulders in contempt.
Those gentlemen think themselves sober realists solely because they are
unable to grasp the consequences of great causes, because they make it
their business to be humble servants of each ephemeral political fact.
They think themselves sober statesmen in spite of the fact that history
mocks at their wisdom, tearing to pieces their school books, making to
naught their designs, and magnificently laughing at their pompous
predictions.
"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet._" "_The Russian
workingman is backward in culture, in self-respect, and (we refer
primarily to the workingmen of Petersburg and Moscow) he is not yet
prepared for organized social and political struggle._"
Thus Mr. Struve wrote in his _Osvoboshdenie_. He wrote it on January
7th, 1905. Two days later the proletariat of Petersburg arose.
"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet._" These words
ought to have been engraved on the forehead of Mr. Struve were it not
that Mr. Struve's forehead already resembles a tombstone under which so
many plans, slogans, and ideas have been buried,--Socialist, liberal,
"patriotic," revolutionary, monarchic, democratic and other ideas, all
of them calculated not to run too far ahead and all of them hopelessly
dragging behind.
"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet_," so it was
declared through the mouth of _Osvoboshdenie_ by Russian liberalism
which in the course of three months had succeeded in convincing itself
that liberalism was the main figure on the political stage and that its
program and tactics would determine the future of Russia. Before this
declaration had reached its readers, the wires carried into the remotest
corners of the world the great message of the beginning of a National
Revolution in Russia.
Yes, the Revolution has begun. We had hoped for it, we had had no doubt
about it. For long years, however, it had been to us a mere deduction
from our "doctrine," which all nonentities of all political
denominations had mocked at. They never believed in the revolutionary
role of the proletariat, yet they believed in the power of Zemstvo
petitions, in Witte, in "blocs" combining naughts with naughts, in
Svyatopolk-Mirski, in a stick of dynamite.... There was no political
superstition they did not believe in. Only the belief in the proletariat
to them was a superstition.
History, however, does not question political oracles, and the
revolutionary people do not need a passport from political eunuchs.
The Revolution has come. One move of hers has lifted the people over
scores of steps, up which in times of peace we would have had to drag
ourselves with hardships and fatigue. The Revolution has come and
destroyed the plans of so many politicians who had dared to make their
little political calculations with no regard for the master, the
revolutionary people. The Revolution has come and destroyed scores of
superstitions, and has manifested the power of the program which is
founded on the revolutionary logic of the development of the masses.
The Revolution has come, and the period of our political infancy has
passed. Down to the archives went our traditional liberalism whose only
resource was the belief in a lucky change of administrative figures. Its
period of bloom was the stupid reign of Svyatopolk-Mirski. Its ripest
fruit was the Ukase of December 12th. But now, January Ninth has come
and effaced the "Spring," and has put military dictatorship in its
place, and has promoted to the rank of Governor-General of Petersburg
the same Trepov, who just before had been pulled down from the post of
Moscow Chief of Police by the same liberal opposition.
That liberalism which did not care to know about the revolution, which
hatched plots behind the scenes, which ignored the masses, which
counted only on its diplomatic genius, has been swept away. _We are done
with it for the entire period of the revolution._
The liberals of the left wing will now follow the people. They will soon
attempt to take the people into their own hands. The people are a power.
One must _master_ them. But they are, too, a _revolutionary_ power. One,
therefore, must _tame_ them. This is, evidently, the future tactics of
the _Osvoboshdenie_ group. Our fight for a revolution, our preparatory
work for the revolution must also be our merciless fight against
liberalism for influence over the masses, for a leading role in the
revolution. In this fight we shall be supported by a great power, the
very logic of the revolution!
The Revolution has come.
The _forms_ taken by the uprising of January 9th could not have been
foreseen. A revolutionary priest, in perplexing manner placed by history
at the head of the working masses for several days, lent the events the
stamp of his personality, his conceptions, his rank. This form may
mislead many an observer as to the real substance of the events. The
actual meaning of the events, however, is just that which
Social-Democracy foresaw. The central figure is the Proletariat. The
workingmen start a strike, they unite, they formulate political demands,
they walk out into the streets, they win the enthusiastic sympathy of
the entire population, they engage in battles with the army.... The
hero, Gapon, has not created the revolutionary energy of the Petersburg
workingmen, he only unloosed it. He found thousands of thinking
workingmen and tens of thousands of others in a state of political
agitation. He formed a plan which united all those masses--for the
period of one day. The masses went to speak to the Tzar. They were faced
by Ulans, cossacks, guards. Gapon's plan had not prepared the workingmen
for that. What was the result? They seized arms wherever they could,
they built barricades.... They fought, though, apparently, they went to
beg for mercy. This shows that they went _not to beg, but to demand_.
The proletariat of Petersburg manifested a degree of political alertness
and revolutionary energy far exceeding the limits of the plan laid out
by a casual leader. Gapon's plan contained many elements of
revolutionary romanticism. On January 9th, the plan collapsed. Yet the
revolutionary proletariat of Petersburg is no romanticism, it is a
living reality. So is the proletariat of other cities. An enormous wave
is rolling over Russia. It has not yet quieted down. One shock, and the
proletarian crater will begin to erupt torrents of revolutionary lava.
The proletariat has arisen. It has chosen an incidental pretext and a
casual leader--a self-sacrificing priest. That seemed enough to start
with. It was not enough to _win_.
_Victory_ demands not a romantic method based on an illusory plan, but
revolutionary tactics. _A simultaneous action of the proletariat of all
Russia must be prepared._ This is the first condition. No local
demonstration has a serious political significance any longer. After the
Petersburg uprising, only an all-Russian uprising should take place.
Scattered outbursts would only consume the precious revolutionary energy
with no results. Wherever spontaneous outbursts occur, as a late echo of
the Petersburg uprising, _they must be made use of to revolutionize and
to solidify the masses, to popularize among them the idea of an
all-Russian uprising_ as a task of the approaching months, perhaps only
weeks.
This is not the place to discuss the technique of a popular uprising.
The questions of revolutionary technique can be solved only in a
practical way, under the live pressure of struggle and under constant
communication with the active members of the Party. There is no doubt,
however, that the technical problems of organizing a popular uprising
assume at present tremendous importance. Those problems demand the
collective attention of the Party.
[Trotzky then proceeds to discuss the question of armament,
arsenals, clashes with army units, barricades, etc. Then he
continues:]
As stated before, these questions ought to be solved by local
organizations. Of course, this is only a minor task as compared with the
political leadership of the masses. Yet, this task is most essential for
the political leadership itself. The organization of the revolution
becomes at present the axis of the political leadership of revolting
masses.
What are the requirements for this leadership? A few very simple things:
freedom from routine in matters of organization; freedom from miserable
traditions of underground conspiracy; a broad view; courageous
initiative; ability to gauge situations; courageous initiative once
more.
The events of January 9th have given us a revolutionary beginning. We
must never fall below this. We must make this our starting point in
moving the revolution forward. We must imbue our work of propaganda and
organization with the political ideas and revolutionary aspirations of
the uprising of the Petersburg workers.
The Russian revolution has approached its climax--a national uprising.
The organization of this uprising, which would determine the fate of the
entire revolution, becomes the day's task for our Party.
No one can accomplish it, but we. Priest Gapon could appear only once.
He cherished extraordinary illusions, that is why he could do what he
has done. Yet he could remain at the head of the masses for a brief
period only. The memory of George Gapon will always be dear to the
revolutionary proletariat. Yet his memory will be that of a hero who
opened the sluices of the revolutionary torrent. Should a new figure
step to the front now, equal to Gapon in energy, revolutionary
enthusiasm and power of political illusions, his arrival would be too
late. What was great in George Gapon may now look ridiculous. There is
no room for a second George Gapon, as the thing now needed is not an
illusion, but clear revolutionary thinking, a decisive plan of action, a
flexible revolutionary organization which would be able to give the
masses a slogan, to lead them into the field of battle, to launch an
attack all along the line and bring the revolution to a victorious
conclusion.
Such an organization can be the work of Social-Democracy only. No other
party is able to create it. No other party can give the masses a
revolutionary slogan, as no one outside our Party has freed himself from
all considerations not pertaining to the interests of the revolution. No
other party, but Social-Democracy, is able to organize the action of the
masses, as no one but our Party is closely connected with the masses.
Our Party has committed many errors, blunders, almost crimes. It
wavered, evaded, hesitated, it showed inertia and lack of pluck. At
times it hampered the revolutionary movement.
_However, there is no revolutionary party but the Social-Democratic
Party!_
Our organizations are imperfect. Our connections with the masses are
insufficient. Our technique is primitive.
_Yet, there is no party connected with the masses but the
Social-Democratic Party!_
At the head of the Revolution is the Proletariat. At the head of the
Proletariat is Social-Democracy!
Let us exert all our power, comrades! Let us put all our energy and all
our passion into this. Let us not forget for a moment the great
responsibility vested in our Party: a responsibility before the Russian
Revolution and in the sight of International Socialism.
The proletariat of the entire world looks to us with expectation. Broad
vistas are being opened for humanity by a victorious Russian revolution.
Comrades, let us do our duty!
Let us close our ranks, comrades! Let us unite, and unite the masses!
Let us prepare, and prepare the masses for the day of decisive actions!
Let us overlook nothing. Let us leave no power unused for the Cause.
Brave, honest, harmoniously united, we shall march forward, linked by
unbreakable bonds, brothers in the Revolution!
EXPLANATORY NOTES
_Osvoboshdenie_ (_Emancipation_) was the name of a liberal magazine
published in Stuttgart, Germany, and smuggled into Russia to be
distributed among the Zemstvo-liberals and other progressive
elements grouped about the Zemstvo-organization. The
_Osvoboshdenie_ advocated a constitutional monarchy; it was,
however, opposed to revolutionary methods.
_Peter Struve_, first a Socialist, then a Liberal, was the editor
of the _Osvoboshdenie_. Struve is an economist and one of the
leading liberal journalists in Russia.
_Zemstvo-petitions_, accepted in form of resolutions at the
meetings of the liberal Zemstvo bodies and forwarded to the central
government, were one of the means the liberals used in their
struggle for a Constitution. The petitions, worded in a very
moderate language, demanded the abolition of "lawlessness" on the
part of the administration and the introduction of a "legal order,"
i.e., a Constitution.
_Sergius Witte_, Minister of Finance in the closing years of the
19th Century and up to the revolution of 1905, was known as a
bureaucrat of a liberal brand.
_The Ukase of December 12th, 1905_, was an answer of the government
to the persistent political demands of the "Spring" time. The Ukase
promised a number of insignificant bureaucratic reforms, not even
mentioning a popular representation and threatening increased
punishments for "disturbances of peace and order."
_Trepov_ was one of the most hated bureaucrats, a devoted pupil of
Von Plehve's in the work of drowning revolutionary movements in
blood.
_George Gapon_ was the priest who organized the march of January
9th. Trotzky's admiration for the heroism of Gapon was originally
shared by many revolutionists. Later it became known that Gapon
played a dubious role as a friend of labor, and an agent of the
government.
_The_ "_Political illusions_" of George Gapon, referred to in this
essay, was his assumption that the Tzar was a loving father to his
people. Gapon hoped to reach the Emperor of all the Russias and to
make him "receive the workingmen's petition from hand to hand."
PROSPECTS OF A LABOR DICTATORSHIP
This is, perhaps, the most remarkable piece of political writing
the Revolution has produced. Written early in 1906, after the great
upheavals of the fall of 1905, at a time when the Russian
revolution was obviously going down hill, and autocracy, after a
moment of relaxation, was increasing its deadly grip over the
country, the essays under the name _Sum Total and Prospectives_
(which we have here changed into a more comprehensible name,
_Prospects of Labor Dictatorship_) aroused more amazement than
admiration. They seemed so entirely out of place. They ignored the
liberal parties as quite negligible quantities. They ignored the
creation of the Duma to which the Constitutional Democrats attached
so much importance as a place where democracy would fight the
battles of the people and win. They ignored the very fact that the
vanguard of the revolution, the industrial proletariat, was beaten,
disorganized, downhearted, tired out.
The essays met with opposition on the part of leading
Social-Democratic thinkers of both the Bolsheviki and Mensheviki
factions. The essays seemed to be more an expression of Trotzky's
revolutionary ardor, of his unshakable faith in the future of the
Russian revolution, than a reflection of political realities. It
was known that he wrote them within prison walls. Should not the
very fact of his imprisonment have convinced him that in drawing a
picture of labor dictatorship he was only dreaming?
History has shown that it was not a dream. Whatever our attitude
towards the course of events in the 1917 revolution may be, we must
admit that, in the main, this course has taken the direction
predicted in Trotzky's essays. There is a labor dictatorship now in
Russia. It is a _labor_ dictatorship, not a "dictatorship of the
proletariat and the peasants." The liberal and radical parties have
lost influence. The labor government has put collective ownership
and collective management of industries on the order of the day.
The labor government has not hesitated in declaring Russia to be
ready for a Socialist revolution. It was compelled to do so under
the pressure of revolutionary proletarian masses. The Russian army
has been dissolved in the armed people. The Russian revolution has
called the workingmen of the world to make a social revolution.
All this had been outlined by Trotzky twelve years ago. When one
reads this series of essays, one has the feeling that they were
written not in the course of the first Russian upheaval (the essays
appeared in 1906 as part of a book by Trotzky, entitled _Our
Revolution_, Petersburg, N. Glagoleff, publisher) but as if they
were discussing problems of the present situation. This, more than
anything else, shows the _continuity_ of the revolution. The great
overthrow of 1917 was completed by the same political and social
forces that had met and learned to know each other in the storms of
1905 and 1906. The ideology of the various groups and parties had
hardly changed. Even the leaders of the major parties were, in the
main, the same persons. Of course, the international situation was
different. But even the possibility of a European war and its
consequences had been foreseen by Trotzky in his essays.
Twelve years ago those essays seemed to picture an imaginary world.
To-day they seem to tell the history of the Russian revolution. We
may agree or disagree with Trotzky, the leader, nobody can deny the
power and clarity of his political vision.
* * * * *
In the _first_ chapter, entitled "Peculiarities of Our Historic
Development," the author gives a broad outline of the growth of
absolutism in Russia. Development of social forms in Russia, he
says, was slow and primitive. Our social life was constructed on an
archaic and meager economic foundation. Yet, Russia did not lead an
isolated life. Russia was under constant pressure of higher
politico-economical organisms,--the neighboring Western states. The
Russian state, in its struggle for existence, outgrew its economic
basis. Historic development in Russia, therefore, was taking place
under a terrific straining of national economic forces. The state
absorbed the major part of the national economic surplus and also
part of the product necessary for the maintenance of the people.
The state thus undermined its own foundation. On the other hand, to
secure the means indispensable for its growth, the state forced
economic development by bureaucratic measures. Ever since the end
of the seventeenth century, the state was most anxious to develop
industries in Russia. "New trades, machines, factories, production
on a large scale, capital, appear from a certain angle to be an
artificial graft on the original economic trunk of the people.
Similarly, Russian science may appear from the same angle to be an
artificial graft on the natural trunk of national ignorance." This,
however, is a wrong conception. The Russian state could not have
created something out of nothing. State action only accelerated the
processes of natural evolution of economic life. State measures
that were in contradiction to those processes were doomed to
failure. Still, the role of the state in economic life was
enormous. When social development reached the stage where the
bourgeoisie classes began to experience a desire for political
institutions of a Western type, Russian autocracy was fully
equipped with all the material power of a modern European state. It
had at its command a centralized bureaucratic machinery, incapable
of regulating modern relations, yet strong enough to do the work of
oppression. It was in a position to overcome distance by means of
the telegraph and railroads,--a thing unknown to the
pre-revolutionary autocracies in Europe. It had a colossal army,
incompetent in wars with foreign enemies, yet strong enough to
maintain the authority of the state in internal affairs.
Based on its military and fiscal apparatus, absorbing the major
part of the country's resources, the government increased its
annual budget to an enormous amount of two billions of rubles, it
made the stock-exchange of Europe its treasury and the Russian
tax-payer a slave to European high finance. Gradually, the Russian
state became an end in itself. It evolved into a power independent
of society. It left unsatisfied the most elementary wants of the
people. It was unable even to defend the safety of the country
against foreign foes. Yet, it seemed strong, powerful, invincible.
It inspired awe.
It became evident that the Russian state would never grant reforms
of its own free will. As years passed, the conflict between
absolutism and the requirements of economic and cultural progress
became ever more acute. There was only one way to solve the
problem: "to accumulate enough steam inside the iron kettle of
absolutism to burst the kettle." This was the way outlined by the
Marxists long ago. Marxism was the only doctrine that had correctly
predicted the course of development in Russia.
* * * * *
In the _second_ chapter, "City and Capital," Trotzky attempts a
theoretical explanation to the weakness of the middle-class in
Russia. Russia of the eighteenth, and even of the major part of the
nineteenth, century, he writes, was marked by an absence of cities
as industrial centers. Our big cities were administrative rather
than industrial centers. Our primitive industries were scattered in
the villages, auxiliary occupations of the peasant farmers. Even
the population of our so called "cities," in former generations
maintained itself largely by agriculture. Russian cities never
contained a prosperous, efficient and self-assured class of
artisans--that real foundation of the European middle class which
in the course of revolutions against absolutism identified itself
with the "people." When modern capitalism, aided by absolutism,
appeared on the scene of Russia and turned large villages into
modern industrial centers almost over night, it had no middle-class
to build on. In Russian cities, therefore, the influence of the
bourgeoisie is far less than in western Europe. Russian cities
practically contain great numbers of workingmen and small groups of
capitalists. Moreover, the specific political weight of the Russian
proletariat is larger than that of the capital employed in Russia,
because the latter is to a great extent _imported_ capital. Thus,
while a large proportion of the capital operating in Russia exerts
its political influence in the parliaments of Belgium or France,
the working class employed by the same capital exert their entire
influence in the political life of Russia. As a result of these
peculiar historic developments, the Russian proletariat, recruited
from the pauperized peasant and ruined rural artisans, has
accumulated in the new cities in very great numbers, "and nothing
stood between the workingmen and absolutism but a small class of
capitalists, separated from the 'people' (i.e., the middle-class in
the European sense of the word), half foreign in its derivation,
devoid of historic traditions, animated solely by a hunger for
profits."
CHAPTER III
1789-1848-1905
History does not repeat itself. You are free to compare the Russian
revolution with the Great French Revolution, yet this would not make the
former resemble the latter. The nineteenth century passed not in vain.
Already the year of 1848 is widely different from 1789. As compared with
the Great Revolution, the revolutions in Prussia or Austria appear
amazingly small. From one viewpoint, the revolutions of 1848 came too
early; from another, too late. That gigantic exertion of power which is
necessary for the bourgeois society to get completely square with the
masters of the past, can be achieved either through powerful _unity_ of
an entire nation arousing against feudal despotism, or through a
powerful development of _class struggle_ within a nation striving for
freedom. In the first case--of which a classic example are the years
1789-1793,--the national energy, compressed by the terrific resistance
of the old regime, was spent entirely in the struggle against reaction.
In the second case--which has never appeared in history as yet, and
which is treated here as hypothetical--the actual energy necessary for a
victory over the black forces of history is being developed within the
bourgeois nation through "civil war" between classes. Fierce internal
friction characterizes the latter case. It absorbs enormous quantities
of energy, prevents the bourgeoisie from playing a leading role, pushes
its antagonist, the proletariat, to the front, gives the workingman
decades' experience in a month, makes them the central figures in
political struggles, and puts very tight reins into their hands. Strong,
determined, knowing no doubts, the proletariat gives events a powerful
twist.
Thus, it is either--or. Either a nation gathered into one compact whole,
as a lion ready to leap; or a nation completely divided in the process
of internal struggles, a nation that has released her best part for a
task which the whole was unable to complete. Such are the two polar
types, whose purest forms, however, can be found only in logical
contraposition.
Here, as in many other cases, the middle road is the worst. This was the
case in 1848.
In the French Revolution we see an active, enlightened bourgeoisie, not
yet aware of the contradictions of its situation; entrusted by history
with the task of leadership in the struggle for a new order; fighting
not only against the archaic institutions of France, but also against
the forces of reaction throughout Europe. The bourgeoisie consciously,
in the person of its various factions, assumes the leadership of the
nation, it lures the masses into struggle, it coins slogans, it dictates
revolutionary tactics. Democracy unites the nation in one political
ideology. The people--small artisans, petty merchants, peasants, and
workingmen--elect bourgeois as their representatives; the mandates of
the communities are framed in the language of the bourgeoisie which
becomes aware of its Messianic role. Antagonisms do not fail to reveal
themselves in the course of the revolution, yet the powerful momentum of
the revolution removes one by one the most unresponsive elements of the
bourgeoisie. Each stratum is torn off, but not before it has given over
all its energy to the following one. The nation as a whole continues to
fight with ever increasing persistence and determination. When the upper
stratum of the bourgeoisie tears itself away from the main body of the
nation to form an alliance with Louis XVI, the democratic demands of the
nation turn _against_ this part of the bourgeoisie, leading to universal
suffrage and a republican government as logically consequent forms of
democracy.
The Great French Revolution is a true national revolution. It is more
than that. It is a classic manifestation, on a national scale, of the
world-wide struggle of the bourgeois order for supremacy, for power, for
unmitigated triumph. In 1848, the bourgeoisie was no more capable of a
similar role. It did not want, it did not dare take the responsibility
for a revolutionary liquidation of a political order that stood in its
way. The reason is clear. The task of the bourgeoisie--of which it was
fully aware--was not to secure its _own_ political supremacy, but to
secure for itself _a share_ in the political power of the old regime.
The bourgeoisie of 1848, niggardly wise with the experience of the
French bourgeoisie, was vitiated by its treachery, frightened by its
failures. It did not lead the masses to storm the citadels of the
absolutist order. On the contrary, with its back against the absolutist
order, it resisted the onslaught of the masses that were pushing it
forward.
The French bourgeoisie made its revolution great. Its consciousness was
the consciousness of the people, and no idea found its expression in
institutions without having gone through its consciousness as an end, as
a task of political construction. It often resorted to theatrical poses
to conceal from itself the limitations of its bourgeois world,--yet it
marched forward.
The German bourgeoisie, on the contrary, was not doing the revolutionary
work; it was "doing away" with the revolution from the very start. Its
consciousness revolted against the objective conditions of its
supremacy. The revolution could be completed not by the bourgeoisie, but
against it. Democratic institutions seemed to the mind of the German
bourgeois not an aim for his struggle, but a menace to his security.
Another class was required in 1848, a class capable of conducting the
revolution beside the bourgeoisie and in spite of it, a class not only
ready and able to push the bourgeoisie forward, but also to step over
its political corpse, should events so demand. None of the other
classes, however, was ready for the job.
_The petty middle class_ were hostile not only to the past, but also to
the future. They were still entangled in the meshes of medieval
relations, and they were unable to withstand the oncoming "free"
industry; they were still giving the cities their stamp, and they were
already giving way to the influences of big capital. Steeped in
prejudices, stunned by the clatter of events, exploiting and being
exploited, greedy and helpless in their greed, they could not become
leaders in matters of world-wide importance. Still less were the
_peasants_ capable of political initiative. Scattered over the country,
far from the nervous centers of politics and culture, limited in their
views, the peasants could have no great part in the struggles for a new
order. The _democratic intellectuals_ possessed no social weight; they
either dragged along behind their elder sister, the liberal bourgeoisie,
as its political tail, or they separated themselves from the bourgeoisie
in critical moments only to show their weakness.
_The industrial workingmen_ were too weak, unorganized, devoid of
experience and knowledge. The capitalist development had gone far enough
to make the abolition of old feudal relations imperative, yet it had not
gone far enough to make the working class, the product of new economic
relations, a decisive political factor. Antagonism between bourgeoisie
and proletariat, even within the national boundaries of Germany, was
sharp enough to prevent the bourgeoisie from stepping to the front to
assume national hegemony in the revolution, yet it was not sharp enough
to allow the proletariat to become a national leader. True, the internal
frictions of the revolution had prepared the workingmen for political
independence, yet they weakened the energy and the unity of the
revolution and they caused a great waste of power. The result was that,
after the first successes, the revolution began to plod about in painful
uncertainty, and under the first blows of the reaction it started
backwards. Austria gave the clearest and most tragic example of
unfinished and unsettled relations in a revolutionary period. It was
this situation that gave Lassalle occasion to assert that henceforward
revolutions could find their support only in the class struggle of the
proletariat. In a letter to Marx, dated October 24, 1849 he writes: "The
experiences of Austria, Hungary and Germany in 1848 and 1849 have led me
to the firm conclusion that no struggle in Europe can be successful
unless it is proclaimed from the very beginning as purely Socialistic.
No struggle can succeed in which social problems appear as nebulous
elements kept in the background, while on the surface the fight is
being conducted under the slogan of national revival of bourgeois
republicanism."
We shall not attempt to criticize this bold conclusion. One thing is
evident, namely that already at the middle of the nineteenth century the
national task of political emancipation could not be completed by a
unanimous concerted onslaught of the entire nation. Only the independent
tactics of the proletariat deriving its strength from no other source
but its class position, could have secured a victory of the revolution.
The Russian working class of 1906 differs entirely from the Vienna
working class of 1848. The best proof of it is the all-Russian practice
of the Councils of Workmen's Deputies (Soviets). Those are no
organizations of conspirators prepared beforehand to step forward in
times of unrest and to seize command over the working class. They are
organs consciously created by the masses themselves to cooerdinate their
revolutionary struggle. The Soviets, elected by and responsible to the
masses, are thoroughly democratic institutions following the most
determined class policy in the spirit of revolutionary Socialism.
The differences in the social composition of the Russian revolution are
clearly shown in the question of arming the people.
_Militia_ (national guard) was the first slogan and the first
achievement of the revolutions of 1789 and 1848 in Paris, in all the
Italian states and in Vienna and Berlin. In 1846, the demand for a
national guard (i.e., the armament of the propertied classes and the
"intellectuals") was put forth by the entire bourgeois opposition,
including the most moderate factions. In Russia, the demand for a
national guard finds no favor with the bourgeois parties. This is not
because the liberals do not understand the importance of arming the
people: absolutism has given them in this respect more than one object
lesson. The reason why liberals do not like the idea of a national guard
is because they fully realize the impossibility of creating in Russia an
armed revolutionary force outside of the proletariat and against the
proletariat. They are ready to give up this demand, as they give up many
others, just as the French bourgeoisie headed by Thiers preferred to
give up Paris and France to Bismarck rather than to arm the working
class.
The problem of an armed revolution in Russia becomes essentially a
problem of the proletariat. National militia, this classic demand of
the bourgeoisie of 1848, appears in Russia from the very beginning as a
demand for arming the people, primarily the working class. Herein the
fate of the Russian revolution manifests itself most clearly.