Matière et Révolution

La révolte du Potemkine

Robert Paris — 2026-01-18T23:34:00Z

Christian Rakovski
Les origines de la révolte du Potemkine

(1907)

On sait que la révolte du Potemkine n'était pas un événement inattendu. C'était l'explosion prématurée et isolée d'un plan courageusement préparé pour un soulèvement général qui devait enflammer la flotte de la mer Noire dans son anneau de fer. En s'emparant des bastions navals, la révolution russe aurait disposé d'une base imprenable pour de nouvelles conquêtes. Passant du bombardement des côtes au siège des garnisons, elle aurait couvert tout le Sud et de là se serait propagée au reste du pays. Ce soulèvement était prévu pour juillet, au moment des grandes manœuvres de la flotte. Au signal convenu – deux fusées tirées l'une après l'autre du pont du cuirassé Catherine II – les marins concernés devaient arrêter ou tuer leurs officiers « au nom du peuple », s'emparer de tous les navires et en prendre le commandement. En fait, le malheureux incident de la viande avariée provoqua une révolte prématurée sur le Potemkine et tout le plan échoua.

Les autres navires, pris au dépourvu, ne furent pas prévenus ; seuls parmi eux purent prendre part au mouvement le Georgi Pobedonostsev , resté fidèle à la révolution pendant 24 heures, et le navire-école Prout , qui tenta en vain de retrouver le Potemkine pour lui apporter son soutien. Il faut aussi mentionner le Sinopia , qui s'était également joint au Potemkine , mais qui s'éloigna sur ordre inopiné de l'amiral Krieger de se rendre à Sébastopol alors que la minorité des marins révolutionnaires n'avait pas encore réussi à vaincre les hésitations de la majorité indécise et craintive. Le cas le plus malheureux fut la mise hors de combat du cuirassé Catherine II , « Katia », comme l'appelaient communément les marins. « Katia la Rouge » était prête à faire le pas le plus décisif et fut victime de son propre enthousiasme révolutionnaire. Lorsque la mutinerie éclata sur le Potemkine , il y eut un conflit mineur entre les marins et les officiers du Catherine II , incident ridicule en comparaison du rôle que le cuirassé aurait pu jouer deux jours plus tard, mais qui aboutit à l'envoi de la majorité de l'équipage à terre. Ainsi, le plus révolutionnaire des cuirassés fut obligé de rester à Sébastopol, tandis que les autres navires furent envoyés à Odessa contre le Potemkine .

Mais il faut se poser la question suivante : l'insurrection générale aurait-elle réussi si les événements du Potemkine n'avaient pas eu lieu ? La flotte aurait-elle pu réussir dans sa tentative de s'emparer des villes côtières et de soulever la population ouvrière ?

Quand nous apprenons par le récit de Cyrille [1] les détails de l'histoire bouleversante et dramatique de la lutte des marins révolutionnaires et que nous découvrons à quel point ils étaient près du succès alors qu'un seul navire s'était mutiné, nous sommes pratiquement convaincus qu'un soulèvement général aurait pu réussir… Du point de vue purement militaire et technique, c'était une excellente idée de déclencher une révolte armée générale au moyen d'un soulèvement de la flotte : tout d'abord parce que les marins étaient les plus réceptifs de toutes les armées à la propagande socialiste, et surtout parce qu'une flotte qui s'est mutinée est mieux placée pour se défendre que toute autre formation. La victoire de la mutinerie de la flotte aurait créé une situation sans précédent dans l'histoire des guerres civiles. L'absolutisme russe, avec toute son armée, se serait révélé impuissant dans la lutte contre cette poignée d'hommes. La Russie dirigeante se serait retrouvée dans la même situation ridicule que la Roumanie lorsque le Potemkine était apparu devant Constanza : toute la garnison était mobilisée, même… la cavalerie.

Mais le véritable intérêt historique de la révolte de la flotte réside dans la compréhension de ses causes. Le Parti ouvrier social-démocrate russe, et surtout son organisation en Crimée (l'Union social-démocrate de Crimée), par son activité de longue durée, ont largement contribué à l'émergence de révolutionnaires dans les rangs des marins. Mais c'est la structure de l'État russe, et surtout le régime dans les casernes, qui a éveillé leur esprit et leur a appris à comprendre les idées révolutionnaires et socialistes. Il est impossible de comprendre le soulèvement révolutionnaire dans la flotte ou d'autres mouvements comparables sans tenir compte de ces éléments. Quand on comprend à quel point l'action révolutionnaire a été gravement entravée en Russie, au prix de combien de victimes et de quels efforts elle a nécessité pour chaque pas – victimes dont seule une infime minorité verrait la réalisation de son but et dont la majorité tomberait dès la première bataille contre la multitude d'obstacles dressés par le régime politique – on comprend alors qu'à la base de la révolte des marins se trouvaient avant tout leurs conditions de vie.

Aujourd'hui, il est plus que jamais nécessaire de comprendre la nature du système des casernes en Russie. Lorsque la paix sera conclue et que l'Assemblée constituante sera instituée, les partis politiques devront reconstruire le pays d'une manière radicale. Mais la Russie ne sera vraiment transformée que lorsqu'elle sera libérée des erreurs du passé. Nous voulons décrire, sur la base des documents en notre possession, le rôle joué dans la révolte par des facteurs conscients , c'est-à-dire la propagande socialiste, et par des facteurs inconscients , c'est-à-dire le système militaire en Russie. Le système des casernes n'est qu'un reflet de la structure sociale et politique d'un pays, et les conditions de vie à bord du Potemkine étaient les mêmes que dans toute la flotte. Les mêmes abus se rencontrèrent partout. De la part des officiers, surtout des officiers supérieurs, on remarqua partout la même cruauté stupide, et le même refus de comprendre la nécessité d'un comportement plus humain envers les marins. Toute tentative de la part de ces derniers pour obtenir une existence plus supportable ne faisait qu'éveiller chez les officiers la volonté obstinée de les punir plus sévèrement encore. Les marins ne pouvaient donc pas se sentir bien disposés envers leurs supérieurs. En apparence, ils étaient dociles, par crainte de répression, mais, au fond, ils haïssaient et méprisaient les « dragons » et les « scorpions », termes qu'ils n'hésitaient pas à employer à la moindre occasion. Lors de la mutinerie du 3 novembre, les marins poursuivaient leurs officiers, leur jetant des pierres et leur lançant des insultes grossières. En tout cas, les insultes étaient si courantes que les officiers y étaient habitués et faisaient semblant de ne pas les entendre… L'hostilité et la méfiance entre officiers et soldats sont des phénomènes généraux dans toutes les armées, mais elles étaient plus aiguës dans les forces armées russes. Le fossé infranchissable qui les séparait devenait plus profond à chaque événement politique, et finissait par envoyer les soldats contre les grévistes et les manifestants…

Pour expliquer cette méfiance, ainsi que la haine méprisante que les marins éprouvaient pour leurs officiers, il faut rappeler, outre les raisons politiques, les défauts spécifiques du corps des officiers russes, notamment dans la flotte, où les officiers se recrutaient exclusivement dans la noblesse. Les écoles militaires étaient peuplées de la « lie » de la société industrielle. Quant à la jeunesse honnête et compétente, elle fréquentait généralement les prisons russes et s'orientait vers les professions intellectuelles. Seuls les incompétents et les serviles se tournaient vers les carrières de la bureaucratie et des forces armées… Ces officiers considéraient leur position comme un moyen de survie et s'efforçaient de travailler le moins possible pour le plus grand avantage personnel possible. C'est sur cette base que se développèrent les relations entre officiers et marins, avec des conséquences souvent catastrophiques.

Mais revenons au cuirassé Potemkine . Les châtiments corporels les plus brutaux étaient monnaie courante. Malgré l'apparition d'une circulaire secrète insistant sur la nécessité de « respecter la dignité humaine des subordonnés », les officiers de marine continuaient, comme par habitude, à distribuer des gifles et des coups. Des marins m'ont raconté avoir eu les tympans crevés par des coups aussi violents… Mais ils souffraient surtout d'insultes et d'humiliations de toute sorte qui portaient atteinte à leur dignité humaine. Il fallait voir l'arrogance avec laquelle ceux qu'on appelle « aristocrates » traitaient leurs subalternes pour comprendre la force de la haine que ces derniers leur vouaient…

Quiconque a vécu en Russie a peut-être vu, dans certains parcs publics, cet écriteau barbare : « Entrée strictement interdite aux chiens et aux personnes de rang inférieur . » L'amiral Tchoukhnine a réussi à inventer une règle encore pire pour les marins de Sébastopol. L'arrêté n° 184 du 29 avril 1905 interdit aux marins « sous peine de prison » de circuler sur deux boulevards, deux avenues et une rue. Quelques jours plus tard, un groupe de marins invalides, de retour de Port-Arthur, passa sur l'un de ces boulevards où se dressait le monument commémorant le siège de Sébastopol en 1855. Ils rencontrèrent un officier qui les interpella en termes grossiers : « Comment osez-vous venir ici ? Vous savez que le boulevard est interdit aux subalternes ! » L'un des marins lui répondit : « Avons-nous le droit de fouler notre terre natale, pour laquelle nous avons versé notre sang ? » « Vous avez le culot de discuter, canaille ! » Et une série de coups permirent à ces « héros » de retour de goûter aux joies d'une patrie reconnaissante. La mutinerie du 3 novembre fut provoquée par un ordre de l'amiral Tchoukhnine interdisant aux marins de pénétrer dans la ville sans une permission spéciale, dite « ticket rouge ».

Des mesures de ce genre n'auraient pas eu des conséquences aussi graves quelques années plus tôt. On peut même affirmer que le résultat aurait été le même si les conditions de vie dans la flotte s'étaient améliorées et non dégradées : ce sont surtout les marins eux-mêmes qui avaient changé et mûri. Pendant cinq ou six ans, leur sens de la dignité personnelle avait mûri… Pour prendre un exemple typique de la nouvelle génération, les recrues de 1904 de l'équipage du 36e – celui du Potemkine – avant même d'avoir prêté serment, présentèrent à leurs supérieurs un ensemble de revendications. Le puissant choc envoyé dans toute la Russie par le mouvement ouvrier au cours des cinq années précédentes avait suscité chez les marins l'espoir d'une vie nouvelle, meilleure et libre. En raison des conditions de travail, le cuirassé était en fait une usine flottante ; les marins étaient plus proches de la classe ouvrière que de toute autre classe. Le grand nombre de punitions pour lecture, légale mais non approuvée par les officiers, permet de mesurer l'intérêt des marins pour la science et la littérature, ainsi que leur soif de connaissances. Leur quête d'un avenir meilleur se heurte aux officiers... qui incarnent l'absolutisme.

Les marins discutèrent avec enthousiasme de la question des relations entre les officiers et les hommes de troupe : le parti dirigeant de la Russie future devait s'en préoccuper également. Il faut rappeler que le premier point de l'ultimatum adressé par le cuirassé au commandant militaire d'Odessa était le remplacement de l'armée permanente par des milices populaires. Les relations entre les marins et leurs officiers supérieurs étaient une question de première importance. C'est en observant le comportement d'un marin envers ses officiers et ses sentiments à leur égard que les camarades révolutionnaires décidaient s'il était apte à prendre part à leurs activités secrètes…

Il est important de s'arrêter sur la manière dont se déroulait le travail de propagande à bord du Potemkine . Un certain nombre de marins avaient déjà rencontré les idées sociales-démocrates lorsqu'ils travaillaient aux chantiers Nikolaïevski. Ils étaient en contact avec des ouvriers civils, dont beaucoup avaient été influencés par la propagande socialiste. Ensuite, l' équipage du Potemkine prit contact directement avec le parti social-démocrate de Sébastopol, où il avait déjà noué des liens solides avec la marine. Évidemment, seul un petit nombre de marins pouvait être en contact direct avec les révolutionnaires. Parmi ceux du Potemkine , j'en ai identifié environ 15 à 20 qui assistaient, de façon irrégulière, aux réunions secrètes organisées par les socialistes. Ces réunions, dites « brèves » lorsqu'il n'y avait presque pas de participants et « massives » lorsqu'elles étaient nombreuses, réunissaient les marins des 50 navires de guerre ancrés au large de Sébastopol. D'abord espacées, les réunions deviennent de plus en plus fréquentes ; Au cours des quatre mois qui précédèrent l'insurrection, il y en eut presque tous les dimanches (du 10 novembre au 25 mars, il y en eut 11 en tout). Le nombre des marins participants passa de 30 à 300 ou 400. Pour éviter les mauvaises surprises, ces réunions se tenaient hors de la ville, dans une forêt proche de la colline de Malakhov. Les marins s'y rendaient par petits groupes, empruntant d'abord la route d'Inkerman, puis se séparant pour prendre divers sentiers. Une garde était postée tout le long du chemin pour s'assurer que la voie était libre. Lorsqu'ils atteignirent la prairie qui était le lieu de réunion, ils s'installèrent à leur guise. Les discours commencèrent. Les orateurs, souvent des femmes, expliquèrent aux marins les causes de l'existence de l'insupportable pouvoir oppressif, et proposèrent des moyens pour le détruire et libérer tout le pays. Puis ils discutèrent, racontèrent leurs expériences et, après avoir adopté une résolution, ils terminèrent la réunion par un chant révolutionnaire. Voici le texte d'une de ces résolutions adoptées le 20 mars :

Nous, 194 marins de la flotte de la mer Noire présents à cette réunion, joignons nos voix à celles des ouvriers russes représentés par leur aile révolutionnaire, le Parti ouvrier social-démocrate russe ; nous exigeons la suppression du régime autocratique et son remplacement par une république démocratique. Nous sommes convaincus que seule la convocation d'une Assemblée constituante, sur la base du suffrage universel direct et égalitaire, au scrutin secret, peut affirmer le pouvoir du peuple. Nous savons que le régime tsariste est allé en guerre dans son propre intérêt. C'est pourquoi nous exigeons qu'il y soit mis fin immédiatement. En unissant notre voix à celle de la Russie qui s'éveille à la vie politique, nous sommes sûrs que notre exemple, l'exemple de la protestation de la flotte de la mer Noire, sera suivi par toutes les forces armées russes. Le dernier bastion du régime est sur le point de s'écrouler. Notre libération est imminente, et nous appelons tous ceux qui sont persécutés et opprimés par l'autocratie à rejoindre nos rangs, les rangs de notre parti. Notre lutte ne cessera pas tant que l'humanité ne se sera pas libérée de l'exploitation des sanguinaires capitalistes. Nous luttons pour le socialisme. A bas l'autocratie ! A bas la guerre ! Vive l'Assemblée constituante ! Vive la république démocratique ! Vive le Parti ouvrier social-démocrate de Russie ! Vive le socialisme !

Cent cinquante marins qui n'avaient pas assisté à cette réunion ont approuvé cette résolution.

Parmi les autres marins, la propagande se fait par des tracts et surtout par des appels. Il faut noter que les marins demandent au comité de Sébastopol de rédiger des appels spécialement pour eux. Lorsque le comité a constaté que la propagande parmi les marins est efficace, il s'efforce d'éclairer chaque événement plus ou moins significatif de la vie de la flotte. Ainsi, deux ou trois jours après la révolte, lorsque les marins se lèvent et sortent dans le chantier, ils trouvent des tracts sur les événements récents éparpillés sur le sol. Le comité de Sébastopol appelle les marins à donner un caractère politique à leur protestation. Quelque 1 800 exemplaires de cet appel sont distribués. Au total, le comité distribue 12 000 tracts du début novembre au début avril. Parmi les titres, citons Il est temps d'en finir , Le Manuel du soldat (2 800 exemplaires), Les deux Europes , Qui va gagner ? , Mort aux tyrans , Le Manifeste du tsar (9 janvier), etc. Certains traitent du régime russe en général, d'autres concernent spécifiquement les marins. Ils décrivent les conditions difficiles d'existence des marins, qui contrastent avec le confort et les privilèges dont jouissent leurs officiers. À cette époque, au Japon, l'amiral de la flotte japonaise Togo perçoit 5 600 roubles par an, tandis que le grand-duc Alexeï, amiral de la flotte russe, touche un salaire 18 fois supérieur – 108 000 roubles. Par ailleurs, la solde des marins est incomparablement plus élevée au Japon qu'en Russie. Un marin coûte 54 roubles au gouvernement japonais, contre 24 pour le gouvernement russe – et la moitié de cette somme est volée par les officiers. Des tracts spéciaux furent diffusés à l'occasion du départ de 800 marins pour Libau, et d'autres à l'occasion du procès de 30 marins accusés d'être les « instigateurs » de la révolte du 3 novembre. Parallèlement à ces événements particuliers, des questions d'ordre général furent soulevées : la guerre, la situation des ouvriers et des paysans, l'État russe, etc. La fin de la guerre fut le mot d'ordre le plus répandu. Certains exhortèrent les marins à refuser de partir en Extrême-Orient. Un tract imprimé par le comité de Sébastopol produisit une impression particulièrement forte. Il avait été rédigé et signé par « des marins et des sous-officiers du cuirassé Catherine II , en collaboration avec le Parti social-démocrate ». Il indiquait déjà les actions plus importantes qui allaient découler de la défaite de Tsushima. [2]

Aujourd'hui, alors que la Russie est devenue un État démocratique autoproclamé, la question de la réorganisation des forces armées reste d'actualité. Les revendications des marins visent toutes à améliorer leurs conditions de vie pendant leur service militaire : ce n'est qu'à la fin qu'ils évoquent le lien étroit entre l'ordre social en Russie et le système militaire. Il convient de noter certaines de ces revendications :

Réduction de la durée du service militaire dans la flotte à trois ans (actuellement sept ans).

Définition précise de la journée de travail (les manœuvres au front et les exercices spéciaux sont considérés comme du travail).

Contrôle des marins sur les dépenses consacrées à la nourriture qui leur est destinée. Les marins exigent d'être directement impliqués dans l'approvisionnement et dans la nomination du cuisinier : « Nous vous priverons ainsi de la possibilité de nous voler », disent les marins du Catherine II à leurs officiers…

Un autre ensemble de revendications concernait les droits de l'homme et du citoyen : l'abolition des formules que les marins devaient utiliser pour s'adresser à leurs supérieurs [3] , et de la pratique consistant à décerner des honneurs militaires aux officiers. Les marins exigeaient également que les délits soient jugés par un tribunal ordinaire. Si les tribunaux militaires devaient être préservés, ils devaient être composés à parts égales d'officiers et de marins élus par leurs camarades…

Ces appels furent diffusés partout à des centaines d'exemplaires. Un jour, les marins du Potemkine furent surpris de les trouver sur les couvertures de leurs lits. Ils ramassèrent tous les « tracts » et cherchèrent « un endroit isolé » pour les lire. Ensuite, ils en discutèrent en groupe pendant plusieurs jours. Peut-être les marins ne comprirent-ils pas tout. Il arriva que les marins du Potemkine écrivirent [au comité] pour critiquer l'emploi [dans les tracts] de trop nombreuses expressions incompréhensibles pour la majorité des marins, et pour demander de nouveaux tracts. Mais ces tracts, petits, insignifiants et souvent illisibles, imprimés clandestinement sur des machines primitives, accomplissaient leur tâche révolutionnaire. Ils étaient la preuve vivante de l'existence d'un parti insaisissable, qui se tenait aux côtés des marins isolés et soumis pour écouter leurs plaintes et sympathiser avec leurs souffrances. Les membres de ce parti tendirent une main fraternelle aux marins, les traitèrent en égaux, mirent à leur disposition leur temps, leurs ressources et leur vie ; ils les appelèrent à s'unir à la lutte contre l'ennemi de toute la classe ouvrière. On ne pouvait espérer que cette propagande transformerait les marins en socialistes conscients. Elle fit cependant beaucoup en donnant un caractère politique à leur vague mécontentement et en popularisant les mots d'ordre du programme socialiste minimum.

D'abord inorganisée, la lutte des marins devint consciente. Ils firent leur le parti et son programme. « Nous sommes 300 sociaux-démocrates prêts à mourir » : c'est avec ces mots que je fus accueilli par le marin Matiuchenko lorsque je montai à bord du Potemkine à Constanza. Ces 300 sociaux-démocrates ne savaient peut-être pas tout de ce que réclamait leur parti, mais le fait d'en être membre leur donnait une confiance illimitée en leur propre force.

Ainsi, avec une énergie et un esprit d'initiative croissants, les marins trouvèrent en eux-mêmes ce que les appels ne pouvaient leur offrir. Ils complétaient leur formation politique en observant les faits qui les entouraient, en lisant les livres et les journaux autorisés par les officiers. Guidés par la haine du despotisme, ils découvraient des idées révolutionnaires jusque dans les livres religieux. Quiconque étudiait de près la vie quotidienne à bord du Potemkine pouvait percevoir leur intense vie intellectuelle. C'était comme une ruche où chacun agissait au maximum de ses forces. Il y avait une trentaine de partisans de la non-violence, qui prônaient la résistance passive à la guerre et le refus de tirer sur « les êtres humains, créatures de Dieu ». Des disputes éclataient presque tous les dimanches entre eux et le commandant Golikov…

Si nous examinons la personnalité des marins, nous pouvons voir qu'il y avait parmi eux des hommes brillants, dont la capacité à jouer un rôle était entravée par les conditions sociales et politiques du pays. Parmi eux, Nikitchkine, véritable tribun du peuple, exerça une grande influence sur ses camarades (il mourut héroïquement à Feodosia). Possédant un grand talent oratoire, imprégné de cet idéalisme religieux profondément enraciné dans les masses populaires, en particulier dans la paysannerie, et qui n'a pas encore été miné par un scepticisme superficiel, et doté d'une mémoire remarquable, il ornait ses discours de citations. Il initia le style de discours qui commençait par un extrait de l'Évangile et se terminait par un hymne révolutionnaire.

Zvenigorodsky, apprenti mécanicien de l'école pratique, était d'un autre type : fils de journaliste, il rédigeait lui-même des journaux dans lesquels il décrivait la misère et les souffrances des marins et qu'il lisait à ses camarades. C'est grâce à son activité que de nombreux marins, comme Reznitchenko par exemple, devinrent des révolutionnaires. « Nous discutions souvent pendant des heures », me dit ce dernier, « en regardant la surface lisse de la mer. » A côté de ces deux personnages, il y avait toute une série d'agitateurs actifs, Matioutchenko, Reznitchenko, Kourilov, Dymtchenko, Makarov et bien d'autres. Ils discutaient des événements qui agitaient toute la Russie. L'une des conséquences de la guerre russo-japonaise fut sans doute l'émergence d'une vie sociale et d'une opinion publique… Les afflictions, la honte, les souffrances partagées rapprochaient la marine et l'armée du peuple… Un jour, Nikitchkine lut un extrait de la pièce de Gorki Les Bas-fonds , dans laquelle l'un des occupants de la taverne de Vassilissa se lance dans un discours révolutionnaire : « Votre loi, votre vérité, votre justice ne sont pas les nôtres », etc. Nikitchkine fit ses lectures dans les recoins du navire, et ses auditeurs furent enthousiasmés par un sentiment commun. On passa des paroles aux actes : les protestations collectives devinrent de plus en plus fréquentes. On les préparait le soir avant de se coucher. Les marins, rassemblés sur le gaillard d'arrière du navire pour la prière, refusèrent de se disperser, malgré les ordres de l'officier de garde, et commencèrent à discuter à voix basse ; alors l'un des plus courageux d'entre eux éleva la voix et cria des slogans. Quand ils eurent dit tout ce qu'ils avaient à dire, les marins se dispersèrent.

C'est le soir du 3 novembre 1904 que, pour la première fois, la protestation des marins prend un ton de révolte imminente. Les fenêtres de la caserne et les lampes de la cour sont brisées, et les chambres des officiers sont saccagées en un instant. Les officiers courent se cacher partout où ils peuvent et parviennent à esquiver la colère des marins. Les soldats, appelés des casernes voisines, refusent de tirer. Les marins et les sous-officiers du Pamiat Merkuria parviennent finalement, après plusieurs salves, à disperser les mutins... Les incidents se multiplient sur les navires... Les marins du Catherine II menacent de couler le navire s'ils ne reçoivent pas leur solde de guerre. Les équipages de tous les navires soutiennent cette revendication. Ils gagnent, comme ils gagnent aussi sur la qualité du pain. Les marins révolutionnaires sont généralement à l'origine de ces actions. Chaque succès renforce leur influence.

Mais c'était la guerre qui était le plus vif stimulant pour les marins. Elle avait mis à nu les innombrables défauts de l'armée et de la marine, que les marins attribuaient à l'incompétence et à la lâcheté des « chefs ». Les officiers avaient perdu toute autorité et n'inspiraient plus ni respect ni crainte. De leur côté, les marins avaient compris que l'action résolue mène à la victoire, et ils avaient gagné en audace. Les désertions se multipliaient et étaient ouvertement appuyées par tout le monde.

C'est dans cette atmosphère, où souffle le vent de la révolution et où la discipline est brisée, que l'idée d'un soulèvement général est née. Où, quand et par qui l'idée fut-elle lancée pour la première fois ? Comme toute idée vraiment populaire, elle n'a probablement pas été lancée délibérément par quelqu'un en particulier, et elle est née spontanément dans le climat d'espoir qui règne à bord du navire. Dès le 3 novembre, les marins avaient demandé au parti social-démocrate si le moment n'était pas venu de transformer la révolte en mouvement organisé. Le comité avait conseillé d'attendre un moment plus favorable. L'idée d'une intervention révolutionnaire avait donc déjà émergé un an auparavant. Plus tard, au début de l'année, lorsqu'on apprit qu'un pogrom de Juifs avait été perpétré par la police de Sébastopol, 150 marins armés pénétrèrent dans la ville et se joignirent aux ouvriers pour défendre les Juifs.

Les événements du 8 au 12 janvier 1905 à Saint-Pétersbourg provoquèrent une vive émotion parmi les marins… Le « centre des marins », le comité central dirigé par les représentants des marins de tous les navires, commença à élaborer sérieusement un plan d'insurrection. Ce ne fut pas facile. La proposition souleva une foule de questions concrètes. Quelle attitude adopter à l'égard des officiers ? Devrait-on les arrêter ou les exécuter ? Quelles seraient les conséquences de l'insurrection, réussie ou défaite ? N'entraînerait-elle pas l'éclatement de la Russie ? Chaque marin donna son point de vue. Dans une lettre adressée au comité de Sébastopol… l' équipage du Potemkine demanda une réponse à toutes les questions qui suscitaient des doutes. Mais la défaite de Tsushima et la nouvelle du massacre de 40 marins de l'escadre Niebogatov près de Shanghai (publiée dans un journal russe) poussèrent la patience des marins à ses limites. Ils disaient : « Si nous devons mourir, autant que ce soit pour libérer la Russie, plutôt que d'être tués par des officiers ou par les Japonais. » Et l'idée d'un soulèvement gagna de plus en plus de partisans.

Une question se pose ici : combien de marins du Potemkine étaient impliqués dans le complot ? Au moins la moitié, m'a-t-on dit. En fait, les marins révolutionnaires ne gardèrent pas secret leur plan : ils n'observèrent que des précautions très élémentaires. Voici un détail qui montre combien ils étaient audacieux : les officiers d'un petit navire – dont nous ne citerons pas le nom – se rendirent un jour en ville pour assister à une noce : pendant ce temps, les marins tenaient une réunion à bord… Il est fort probable que les officiers savaient ce qui se préparait. On sait qu'il y avait une trentaine d'informateurs parmi les marins. Mais comment pouvaient-ils déjouer ces plans ? Qui arrêter ? Ils ne réussirent pas à découvrir quels étaient les membres du comité révolutionnaire du Potemkine …

Le commandant du Potemkine échoua dans toutes ses tentatives de rétablir la discipline à bord par des mesures traditionnelles, ridicules et inefficaces… On essaya d'empêcher les marins de se réunir ; on leur interdire même de lire les journaux et les revues, et il était difficile d'obtenir des permissions pour aller en ville. Golikov, qui auparavant passait souvent la nuit hors du navire, ne le quittait plus désormais : il inspectait les cabines pour vérifier l'emploi du temps des marins : « Pourquoi ce hamac est-il vide ? Où est le matelot X ? » « Il est de garde », répondit son voisin, tandis que le matelot X discutait dans un coin sombre avec un camarade. Ces mesures draconiennes rendirent les protestations encore plus vives. Il y en eut une particulièrement vive les deux ou trois jours précédant la Trinité. Golikov crut pouvoir y mettre fin en prononçant un discours sur la discipline pendant la fête. Il raconte comment une mutinerie survenue vingt ans plus tôt sur le Svetlana , où il servait, s'était soldée par de nombreuses exécutions. « Voilà ce qui attend ceux qui oublient la discipline », déclara-t-il… Après la défaite de Tsushima, de tels propos étaient hautement irresponsables. Le fait de connaître les risques qu'ils couraient permettait aux marins de surmonter leur peur des conséquences d'une révolte. Mais que pouvait faire le malheureux commandant ? Comme tout bon soldat de l'absolutisme, il devait défendre la vieille Russie par tous les moyens possibles. Devant la difficulté de la tâche, Golikov, comme les autres, perdit la tête et ne fit qu'accélérer le processus. D'ailleurs, lui-même était tout à fait sûr de sa propre impuissance : « Le poison révolutionnaire se répand sur le bateau même parmi les sous-officiers », dit-il un jour à un policier. Toute tentative d'éradiquer la révolution se solda par un échec… Reznichenko cite un exemple significatif :

Nous étions sur le point de commencer la réunion lorsqu'une patrouille sous le commandement d'un officier est arrivée. Il voulait nous arrêter tous. L'un de nous s'est approché de lui et, après l'avoir salué, lui a demandé : « Que t'importe que nous soyons ici ? » – « Je t'ordonne de te disperser. » – « Pourquoi ? » – « Parce que je te donne des ordres. » – « Mais nous ne faisons rien de criminel. » – « Disperse-toi ou je donne l'ordre de tirer. » – « Personne ne t'obéira. Aujourd'hui je suis de ce côté, mais demain je serai peut-être dans ta patrouille, et si tu donnes l'ordre de tirer, tu seras le premier sur qui je tirerai. »

L'officier se retira sans un mot. Les marins s'éloignèrent et reprirent leur réunion. Baranovsky, le commandant du Prout , prononça un discours sur ces réunions dans lequel il accusait les Juifs d'être à l'origine des troubles dans la flotte. Il ajouta qu'il n'hésiterait pas à prononcer la peine de mort contre tous ceux qui participeraient à des complots avec les socialistes. Quelques jours plus tard, une proclamation des marins parut : « Vous disiez la vérité. Nous savons que vous êtes un bourreau. Le jour viendra où nous n'hésiterons pas à vous étrangler. Le temps du paiement approche. »

Quelques semaines plus tard, Baranovski fut arrêté par les marins et Golikov mourut, victime de l'obstination de l'absolutisme.
Remarques

1. Kirill était le pseudonyme d'Anatoly Petrovich Berezovsky, qui fut chargé de rassembler les souvenirs d'un marin du Potemkine dont cet article est tiré.

2. La flotte russe de la Baltique, après avoir fait le tour du monde, fut anéantie près des îles de Tsushima par l'amiral Togo le 27 mai 1905.

3. Les militaires de la Russie tsariste étaient obligés de s'adresser à leurs officiers d'une manière particulièrement obséquieuse.

https://www-marxists-org.translate.goog/archive/rakovsky/1907/xx/potemkin.html?_x_tr_sl=auto&_x_tr_tl=fr&_x_tr_hl=fr

Les tâches des révolutionnaires face au mouvement du 10 septembre : souvenons-nous de 1905 !

Alex, Waraa — 2025-09-24T22:55:00Z

Les tâches des révolutionnaires face au mouvement du 10 septembre

Les militants sincères de l'appel du 10 septembre, dont certains Gilets jaunes, ont subi depuis un mois l'offensive des réformistes apeurés, qui ont tout fait pour promouvoir le "mouvementisme" : promotion tous azimuts d'actions qui visent à promener les contestataires, éviter les assemblées politiques et détourner le mouvement de son sens premier. Certains Gilets jaunes ont maintenu leurs propres assemblées autonomes, n'ayant aucune illusion dans les directions syndicales, flairant le piège de la "convergence" du 10 et du 18, deux journées antagonistes !

L'action pour l'action est un piège, et Maître Eckhart, théologien du Moyen-âge, avait vu loin :
« Les gens ne devraient pas toujours tant réfléchir à ce qu'ils doivent faire, ils devraient plutôt penser à ce qu'ils doivent être. »

La CGT trahit le mouvement de la base mais ce n'est pas vraiment nouveau

Sophie Binet, en se désolidarisant dès le début du mouvement du 10 septembre de manière claire et publique, puis en soutenant le point de vue de l'intersyndicale et le contrefeu organisé le 18 septembre pour empêcher les travailleurs des grandes entreprises de rejoindre le mouvement le 10, a signé sa trahison du peuple travailleur. Elle a été si claire que des fédérations, des unions locales ou régionales ont ressenti le besoin de faire semblant de se désolidariser de sa position et de jouer une journée d'inaction syndicale le 10, d'aller aussi jouer leur partition dans les assemblées du mouvement « Bloquons tout » en se disant même pour le blocage mais en refusant tout le reste. Les syndicalistes de LFI, des écologistes et de l'extrême gauche les avaient précédés dans cette voie : celle consistant à détourner le mouvement du chemin qu'il avait initié, c'est-à-dire de la méthode et des objectifs du type Gilets jaunes.

La trahison des intérêts prolétariens est dans les gènes de la CGT depuis belle lurette, en fait depuis la première guerre mondiale et elle est alors passée du syndicalisme d'action directe visant la révolution sociale à la collaboration à la boucherie mondiale impérialiste au nom du patriotisme, participant même au pouvoir guerrier et à l'unité nationale militariste. Elle a continué en restant pour l'essentiel pacifiste à l'égard de la bourgeoisie à la fin de la guerre mondiale pour éviter une situation révolutionnaire en France. Elle a poursuivi lors de la nouvelle montée ouvrière de 1934-1936, se gardant de donner un caractère de classe révolutionnaire à la lutte anti-fasciste, à la lutte gréviste, soutenant le mouvement bourgeois dit « front populaire » qui se gardait bien d'être un front de classe. Elle a cassé la grève générale et soutenu le gouvernement. Une bonne partie de ses cadres sont ensuite passés au fascisme lavaliste et pétainiste. Ceux qui ne l'ont pas fait ont rejoint l'autre camp bourgeois et impérialiste, le gaullisme. Puis elle est passée au pouvoir à la « libération », devenant la principale force policière pour casser les grèves jusqu'à être débordée par la grève des ouvriers de Renault en 1947. Elle a cassé les reins de nombreuses grèves et notamment la grève générale de 1968. Elle s'est violemment heurtée aux tentatives de diriger les grèves par des comités de lutte dirigés par la base et par des coordinations, des assemblées souveraines et décisionnelles, tout ce qui pouvait être de l'auto-organisation a été violemment combattu par la CGT. Elle est passée du côté du gouvernement de gauche de Mitterrand, cassant de nouveau des grèves comme celle de Talbot à Poissy. Elle a ensuite beaucoup perdu en force du côté des ouvriers en même temps que le PCF s'y affaiblissait considérablement. Elle a pris le tournant de la collaboration ouverte avec le pouvoir comme les autres syndicats, signant des accords contre les intérêts prolétariens. Elle s'est mise à diriger des journées d'inaction contre les grèves illimitées. Et à nouveau en 2025, elle a fait de grands efforts pour discréditer et empêcher avant même qu'il ne commence le mouvement du 10 septembre.

Les groupes d'extrême-gauche n'ont rien fait pour se démarquer des directions syndicales, alors qu'ils auraient au moins pu planter le drapeau du syndicalisme révolutionnaire, car c'est à titre syndical qu'ils sont les invités des grands media : JP Mercier a accepté de devenir la "mascotte révolutionnaire de LCI". Ce n'est pas en agitant le hochet réformiste qu'est la menace sempiternelle de "la grève générale", ou de la "semaine des quatre jeudis de grève" que les révolutionnaires peuvent se différencier des réformistes. La seule différence est qu'ils préparent l'insurrection pour instaurer la dictature du prolétariat. Sous forme de propagande aujourd'hui où cette perspective est lointaine et peut paraitre impossible , d'agitation demain quand elle paraitra impossible à éviter, d'action quand la situation sera mûre.

1934 : Pierre Naville appelait à la grève générale politique

Depuis que le président Macron use les partis et les premiers ministres, nous sommes dans une situation analogue à celle qui suivit l'émeute fascisante du 6 février 1934 : transition de la république bourgeoise au fascisme de guerre, par l'intermédiaire du bonapartisme. Doumergue qui forma un cabinet d'union nationale, s'usa en quelques semaines, et le militant trotskiste P. Naville en déduisait des objectifs qui sont d'actualités :

"Le gouvernement Doumergue est usé. Les groupements bourgeois ne lui donnent plus guère d'espérance. (...) L'initiative de la chute de Doumergue, nous le répétons inlassablement, c'est la classe ouvrière qui doit la prendre. Nous l'avons dit, nous le redirons : il faut préparer la grève générale pour renverser Doumergue. C'est l'objectif qu'il faut fixer au front unique.
Mais, nous demande-t-on, par quoi voulez vous remplacer le gouvernement Doumergue. Nous ne sommes pas encore en état de lui substituer le pouvoir des soviets, la classe ouvrière n'en est pas là (...) l'Humanité (...) se contente de demander à Doumergue, tout comme la direction socialiste, de nouvelles élections. (...) Puisque les grandes masses se placent encore sur le terrain de la démocratie et non de la dictature du prolétariat, nous ne nous y dérobons pas. Mais nous leur disons que pour reconquérir le terrain perdu le 6 février, il n'est pas possible de s'en tenir à la démocratie de la IIIème République, il faut s'inspirer de celle de la Grande Révolution Française."

P. Naville parle certes de la grève générale, mais passe rapidement sur ses modalités, car l'essentiel est le but, la grève n'étant qu'un outil primaire mais bien rôdé : remise en cause du régime politique par lequel la bourgeoisie exerce sa dictature. Les pseudo révolutionnaires affirment aujourd'hui péremptoirement : ce n'est pas une personne qu'il faut changer. Mais par là, ils écartent surtout toute action illégale, le principe d'une insurrection.

Le légalisme est une des caractéristiques des opportunistes, les agents de la bourgeoisie dans le mouvement ouvriers. Les pseudo-révolutionnaires exaltent la grève générale, mais à la manière de Pelloutier-Briand, car ils exaltent le respect de la loi, et la grève générale est tout à fait légale.

Les souvenirs de 1905 (Empire russe), 1936 (France, Espagne), 1968 (monde entier), associent, à juste titre, l'idée de grève générale à celle de révolution. Mais la grève eut un caractère révolutionnaire uniquement lorsqu'elle fut l'initiative spontanée de la classe ouvrière. En 1936, la grève avec occupation des usines eut un caractère révolutionnaire car elle exprimait la désobéissance de la classe ouvrière à l'égard de la gauche réformiste qui se consacrait entièrement à l'alliance électorale du Front populaire. Désobéir aux directions syndicales, c'est, depuis 1914, commencer à désobéir à l'Etat bourgeois.

Mais P. Naville n'appelait-il pas à la grève générale ? Non, il appelait essentiellement à une journée insurrectionnelle comme en connurent les révolutions françaises de 1789, 1848, et lors d'une telle journée, on ne peut bien sûr pas travailler, on est en grève. Le but était que la classe ouvrière prenne l'initiative de renverser le gouvernement, car c'est une étape dans l'objectif fixé par Marx et Engels dans le Manifeste du Parti communiste : que le prolétariat prenne la tête de la nation, à travers une première initiative politique d'envergure nationale.

Les grèves de 1905 vues par Trotsky

Trotsky décrivait en quoi la grande grève d'octobre 1905 n'avait rien à voir avec celle que propose aujourd'hui en parole l'extrême gauche, mais était au service d'une politique, institutionnalisée par un soviet :

"Le 13 au soir, dans les bâtiments de l'Institut technologique, eut lieu la première séance du futur soviet. Il n'y avait pas plus de trente à quarante délégués. On décida d'appeler immédiatement le prolétariat de la capitale à la grève politique générale et à l'élection des délégués. " La classe ouvrière, disait l'appel rédigé à la première séance, a dû recourir à l'ultime mesure dont dispose le mouvement ouvrier mondial et qui fait sa puissance : à la grève générale... Dans quelques jours, des événements décisifs doivent s'accomplir en Russie. Ils détermineront pour de nombreuses années le sort de la classe ouvrière ; nous devons donc aller au devant des faits avec toutes nos forces disponibles, unifiées sous l'égide de notre commun soviet... "

Un changement de régime faisait partie des revendications politiques, comme l'armement du prolétariat, et "c'est trop peu de cesser le travail" affirmaient les ouvriers grévistes, alors que c'est aujourd'hui pour l'extrême gauche française le summum de la révolution :

"La grève d'octobre marchait d'un pas sûr vers son apogée. En tête du cortège, venaient les ouvriers du métal et de l'imprimerie. Ils furent les premiers à entrer dans la bataille et ils formulèrent d'une façon nette et précise, le 13 octobre, leurs mots d'ordre politiques.
" Nous déclarons la grève politique, proclamait l'usine Oboukhov, cette citadelle de la révolution, et nous lutterons jusqu'au bout pour la convocation d'une assemblée constituante sur la base du suffrage universel, égalitaire, direct et secret, dans le but d'instituer en Russie la république démocratique. "

Promulguant les mêmes mots d'ordre, les ouvriers des stations d'électricité déclaraient : " Unis avec la social démocratie, nous lutterons pour nos revendications jusqu'au bout et nous affirmons devant toute la classe ouvrière que nous sommes prêts à combattre les armes à la main, pour l'entière libération du peuple. "

La tâche du moment était définie d'une manière encore plus hardie par les ouvriers typographes qui envoyaient, le 14 octobre, leurs députés au soviet :

" Reconnaissant que la lutte passive est par elle même insuffisante, que c'est trop peu de cesser le travail, nous décidons : qu'il faut transformer les troupes de la classe ouvrière en grève en une armée révolutionnaire, c'est à dire organiser immédiatement des compagnies de combat. Que ces compagnies s'occupent d'armer le reste des masses ouvrières, au besoin en pillant les armureries et en arrachant à la police et aux troupes leurs armes partout où il sera possible de le faire. " Cette résolution ne fut pas une vaine parole. Les compagnies de typographes armés remportèrent un succès remarquable lorsqu'elles mirent la main sur les grandes imprimeries qui devaient servir à la publication des Izvestia (" Les Nouvelles ") du soviet des députés ouvriers ; elles rendirent des services inappréciables au cours de la grève des postes et télégraphes.

C'est parce qu'elle fut insurrectionnelle, politique que la grève générale de 1905 fut révolutionnaire. Armement du prolétariat, formation d'un soviet dans la capitale . Si les ouvriers se déclaraient "Unis avec la social démocratie", c'est que cette social-démocratie s'était faite connaitre depuis la fondation de la IIème internationale à Paris en 1889, par une propagande inlassable, tâche oubliée aujourd'hui par l'extrême gauche.

Lénine et les grèves de 1905

Lénine n'a jamais appelé à la grève en 1905, il ne fit que constater leur spontanéité :

"La grève s'est étendue de jour en jour avec une rapidité vertigineuse. Les ouvriers ont organisé un grand nombre de réunions et ont élaboré leur « charte », leurs revendications économiques et politiques. Malgré la direction des gens de Zoubatov, ces revendications se ramenaient, en somme, à celles du Parti social-démocrate, y compris le mot d'ordre : convocation d'une Assemblée constituante élue au suffrage universel direct, égal et au scrutin secret. La croissance spontanée d'une grève comme on n'en avait encore jamais vue a dépassé de loin la participation méthodique des social-démocrates organisés."

Zoubatov était un colonel de la police tsariste. Les socio-démocrate étaient dépassés par la croissance spontanée des grèves, l'organisation concrète revenait aux syndicats jaunes ! Mais le travail de propagande et d'agitation des années précédentes fit que ce sont les idées social-démocrates que les ouvriers forcèrent les agents de Zoubatov à reprendre. Les communistes jouent donc un rôle essentiel par la propagande et l'agitation précédant une révolution, un rôle secondaire dans l'éclatement d'une révolution et des grèves qui en sont l'expression. Mais leur rôle essentiel est de préparer l'insurrection qui aboutit à la dictature du prolétariat. Les prémisses et la conclusion de la révolution, son prologue et sa dernière étape, sont celles où les révolutionnaires ont l'initiative. Les phases intermédiaires sont celles où ils sont minoritaires, sont noyés dans le flot, mais ont la capacité de créer et participer aux soviets, y formant une infime minorité au départ.

Or les pseudo-révolutionnaires font aujourd'hui le contraire, ils ne font aucune propagande pour la révolution prolétarienne, mais donnent l'ordre aux ouvriers "d'organiser des grèves", de s'organiser pour organiser l'organisation, en d'autres termes d'adhérer à leur parti, avec en vue les élections municipales. Ils sont exactement dans le rôle de menchéviques que Lénine dénonçait déjà.

Tout comme LO, les NPAs, RP, les menchéviks faisaient l'apologie du "mouvement", dont ce mouvement n'avait pas besoin, car il s'était développé spontanément, mais se refusaient à accomplir les tâches d'un parti révolutionnaire, au nom du fait qu'on ne peut pas "fixer la date de la révolution" :

"La révolution populaire ne peut pas être faite à date fixe, c'est juste (...) Mais fixer la date de l'insurrection, si nous l'avons réellement préparée, et si le bouleversement déjà accompli dans les rapports sociaux la rend possible, est chose parfaitement réalisable."

Lénine (1905)

Lénine et Trotsky ne fixeront avec succès cette date que 12 ans plus tard, le 25 octobre 1917. Mais dès 1905 à l'échelle du parti, Lénine expliquait aux militants que cette tâche était essentiellement celle différenciant les authentiques révolutionnaires des autres. A l'échelle d'une classe sociale, ce sont les ouvriers de Pétersbourg qui accomplirent cette tâche, en tant qu'avant-garde, en appelant à l'insurrection dès le 10 janvier 1905, le lendemain du dimanche sanglant. Et Lénine soulignait l'importance de tels appels, auxquels appartenaient l'avenir, malgré leur échec dans l'immédiat :

"L'appel des ouvriers de Pétersbourg n'a pas été suivi d'effet et ne pouvait l'être aussi vite qu'ils le voulaient Il sera repris plus d'une fois encore, et les tentatives insurrection elles conduiront peut-être plus d'une fois à des insuccès. Mais le fait que la tâche ait été posée par les ouvriers eux-mêmes a une importance colossale. Le mouvement ouvrier, qui a pris conscience du caractère pressant et pratique de cette tâche, devenue imminente dès la prochaine explosion populaire, quelle qu'elle soit, a fait là une acquisition que rien ne pourra lui ravir."

Or les appels au 10 septembre ont marqué une étape analogue : la dénonciation explicite du Capital incarné par les milliardaires et les parlementaires corrompus, la dénonciation implicite des directions syndicales, de leur incapacité à prononcer elles-mêmes de tels appels.

C'est de ce point de vue que Lénine appelait les militants révolutionnaires à faire leur travail, propager leurs idées, au lieu de faire des apologies bouffies de flatteries du "mouvement", dont les travailleurs n'ont pas besoin :

"Ne minimisez pas les tâches de l'avant-garde de la révolution, n'oubliez pas le devoir qui nous incombe de la soutenir de notre initiative "organisée". Faites moins de phrases générales sur le développement de l'initiative ouvrière — les ouvriers font preuve d'une initiative infinie sans que vous le remarquiez - et veillez davantage à ne pas dépraver les ouvriers arriérés avec votre propre suivisme."

Lénine (1905)

Dépravation de la conscience des ouvriers en lutte, c'est le résumé de ce que la CGT et Solidaires s'activent à faire, aidés à leur droite par le PS, le PC et LFI, sur leur gauche par le suivisme de l'extrême-gauche opportuniste !

C'est en donnant une perspective communiste aux appels du 10 septembre, en popularisant l'idée des soviets et d'une future insurrection, que les authentiques révolutionnaires seront à la hauteur des tâches qui leur incombent !

Les véritables militants communistes ne choisissent pas le "mouvementisme" (le mouvement spontané par le mouvement pour le mouvement) pour combattre la trahison des intérêts prolétariens par les organisations réformistes et opportunistes parce que mettre en avant le mouvement, l'action, c'est occulter ses objectifs. Ce que vient de démontrer l'échec (partiel) du 10 septembre ce n'est pas l'incapacité du mouvement de la base à bloquer le pays mais la nécessité de ne pas s'en tenir à l'idée de bloquer et de mettre en avant le but du blocage. Pour les réformistes, le but est quelques revendications économiques et pour les révolutionnaires, le but est la mise en place de structures de la base en vue d'un double pouvoir contestant le pouvoir des milliardaires, le controlant pour finir par le renverser et mettre en place le pouvoir des comités et conseils élus par des assemblées souveraines et décisionnelles indépendantes des appareils liés à l'ancien Etat. Ce programme doit être défendu par des révolutionnaires organisés en parti politique car il émane de l'histoire de la lutte révolutionnaire et pas seulement du mouvement lui-même. Que l'échec du 10 septembre apprenne aux participants du mouvement, qu'ils aient ou non participé aux Gilets jaunes ce qu'est véritablement un programme et un parti révolutionnaire et l'avenir est à nous !

The Mass Strike, the Political Party and the Trade Unions

Robert Paris — 2025-08-18T05:03:00Z

Rosa Luxemburg

The Mass Strike, the Political Party and the Trade Unions

(1906)

I. The Russian Revolution, Anarchism and the General Strike

Almost all works and pronouncements of international socialism on the subject of the mass strike date from the time before the Russian Revolution [of 1905], the first historical experience on a very large scale with the means of struggle. It is therefore evident that they are, for the most part, out-of-date. Their standpoint is essentially that of Engels who in 1873 wrote as follows in his criticism of the revolutionary blundering of the Bakuninists in Spain :

“The general strike, in the Bakuninists' program, is the lever which will be used for introducing the social revolution. One fine morning all the workers in every industry in a country, or perhaps in every country, will cease work, and thereby compel the ruling class either to submit in about four weeks, or to launch an attack on the workers so that the latter will have the right to defend themselves, and may use the opportunity to overthrow the old society. The proposal is by no means new : French and Belgian socialists have paraded it continually since 1848, but for all that is of English origin. During the rapid and powerful development of Chartism among the English workers that followed the crisis of 1837, the ‘holy month' – a suspension of work on a national scale – was preached as early as 1839, and was received with such favour that in July 1842 the factory workers of the north of England attempted to carry it out. And at the Congress of the Alliancists at Geneva on September 1, 1873, the general strike played a great part, but it was admitted on all sides to carry it out it was necessary to have a perfect organisation of the working-class and a full war chest. And that is the crux of the question. On the one hand, the governments, especially if they are encouraged by the workers' abstention from political action, will never allow the funds of the workers to become large enough, and on the other hand, political events and the encroachments of the ruling class will bring about the liberation of the workers long before the proletariat gets the length of forming this ideal organisation and this colossal reserve fund. But if they had these, they would not need to make use of the roundabout way of the general strike in order to attain their object.”

Here we have the reasoning that was characteristic of the attitude of international social democracy towards the mass strike in the following decades. It is based on the anarchist theory of the general strike – that is, the theory of the general strike as a means of inaugurating the social revolution, in contradistinction to the daily political struggle of the working-class – and exhausts itself in the following simple dilemma : either the proletariat as a whole are not yet in possession of the powerful organisation and financial resources required, in which case they cannot carry through the general strike ; or they are already sufficiently well organised, in which case they do not need the general strike. This reasoning is so simple and at first glance so irrefutable that, for a quarter of a century, it has rendered excellent service to the modern labour movement as a logical weapon against the anarchist phantom and as a means of carrying out the idea of political struggle to the widest circles of the workers. The enormous strides taken by the labour movement in all capitalist countries during the last twenty-five years are the most convincing evidence of the value of the tactics of political struggle, which were insisted upon by Marx and Engels in opposition to Bakuninism ; and German social democracy, in its position of vanguard of the entire international labour movement is not in the least the direct product of the consistent and energetic application of these tactics.

The [1905] Russian Revolution has now effected a radical revision of the above piece of reasoning. For the first time in the history of the class struggle it has achieved a grandiose realisation of the idea of the mass strike and – as we shall discuss later – has even matured the general strike and thereby opened a new epoch in the development of the labour movement. It does not, of course, follow from this that the tactics of political struggle recommended by Marx and Engels were false or that criticism applied by them to anarchism was incorrect. On the contrary, it is the same train of ideas, the same method, the Engels-Marxian tactics, which lay at the foundation of the previous practice of the German social democracy, which now in the Russian Revolution are producing new factors and new conditions in the class struggle. The Russian Revolution, which is the first historical experiment on the model of the class strike, not merely does not afford a vindication of anarchism, but actually means the historical liquidation of anarchism. The sorry existence to which this mental tendency was condemned in recent decades by the powerful development of social democracy in Germany may, to a certain extent, be explained by the exclusive domination and long duration of the parliamentary period. A tendency patterned entirely upon the “first blow” and “direct action,” a tendency “revolutionary” in the most naked pitchfork sense, can only temporarily languish in the calm of parliamentarian day and, on a return of the period of direct open struggle, can come to life again and unfold its inherent strength.

Russia, in particular, appeared to have become the experimental field for the heroic deeds of anarchism. A country in which the proletariat had absolutely no political rights and extremely weak organisations, a many-coloured complex of various sections of the population, a chaos of conflicting interests, a low standard of education amongst the masses of the people, extreme brutality in the use of violence on the part of the prevailing regime – all this seemed as if created to raise anarchism to a sudden if perhaps short-lived power. And finally, Russia was the historical birthplace of anarchism. But the fatherland of Bakunin was to become the burial-place of his teachings. Not only did and do the anarchists in Russia not stand at the head of the mass strike movement ; not only does the whole political leadership of revolutionary action and also of the mass strike lie in the hands of the social democratic organisations, which are bitterly opposed as “bourgeois parties” by Russian anarchists, or partly in the hands of such socialist organisations as are more or less influenced by the social democracy and more or less approximate to it – such as the terrorist party, the “socialist revolutionaries” – but the anarchists simply do not exist as a serious political tendency in the Russian Revolution. Only in a small Lithuanian town with particularly difficult conditions – a confused medley of different nationalities among the workers, an extremely scattered condition of small-scale industry, a very severely oppressed proletariat – in Bialystok, there is, amongst the seven or eight different revolutionary groups a handful of half-grown “anarchists” who promote confusion and bewilderment amongst the workers to the best of their ability ; and lastly in Moscow, and perhaps in two or three other towns, a handful of people of this kidney make themselves noticeable.

But apart from these few “revolutionary” groups, what is the actual role of anarchism in the Russian Revolution ? It has become the sign of the common thief and plunderer ; a large proportion of the innumerable thefts and acts of plunder of private persons are carried out under the name of “anarchist-communism” – acts which rise up like a troubled wave against the revolution in every period of depression and in every period of temporary defensive. Anarchism has become in the Russian Revolution, not the theory of the struggling proletariat, but the ideological signboard of the counter-revolutionary lumpenproletariat, who, like a school of sharks, swarm in the wake of the battleship of the revolution. And therewith the historical career of anarchism is well-nigh ended.

On the other hand, the mass strike in Russia has been realised not as means of evading the political struggle of the working-class, and especially of parliamentarism, not as a means of jumping suddenly into the social revolution by means of a theatrical coup, but as a means, firstly, of creating for the proletariat the conditions of the daily political struggle and especially of parliamentarism. The revolutionary struggle in Russia, in which mass strikes are the most important weapon, is, by the working people, and above all by the proletariat, conducted for those political rights and conditions whose necessity and importance in the struggle for the emancipation of the working-class Marx and Engels first pointed out, and in opposition to anarchism fought for with all their might in the International. Thus has historical dialectics, the rock on which the whole teaching of Marxian socialism rests, brought it about that today anarchism, with which the idea of the mass strike is indissolubly associated, has itself come to be opposed to the mass strike which was combated as the opposite of the political activity of the proletariat, appears today as the most powerful weapon of the struggle for political rights. If, therefore, the Russian Revolution makes imperative a fundamental revision of the old standpoint of Marxism on the question of the mass strike, it is once again Marxism whose general method and points of view have thereby, in new form, carried off the prize. The Moor's beloved can die only by the hand of the Moor.

II. The Mass Strike, A Historical and Not an Artificial Product

The first revision of the question of the mass strike which results from the experience of Russia relates to the general conception of the problem. Till the present time the zealous advocates of an “attempt with the mass strike” in Germany of the stamp of Bernstein, Eisner, etc., and also the strongest opponents of such an attempt as represented in the trade-union camp by, for example, Bombelburg, stand when all is said and done, on the same conception, and that is the anarchist one. The apparent polar opposites do not mutually exclude each other but, as always, condition, and at the same time, supplement each other. For the anarchist mode of thought is direct speculation on the “great Kladderadatsch,“ on the social revolution merely as an external and inessential characteristic. According to it, what is essential is the whole abstract, unhistorical view of the mass strike and of all the conditions of the proletarian struggle generally.

For the anarchist there exist only two things as material suppositions of his “revolutionary” speculations – first, imagination, and second goodwill and courage to rescue humanity from the existing capitalist vale of tears. This fanciful mode of reasoning sixty years ago gave the result that the mass strike was the shortest, surest and easiest means of springing into the better social future. The same mode of reasoning recently gave the result that the trade-union struggle was the only real “direct action of the masses” and also the only real revolutionary struggle – which, as is well known, is the latest notion of the French and Italian “syndicalists.” The fatal thing for anarchism has always been that the methods of struggle improvised in the air were not only a reckoning without their host, that is, they were purely utopian, but that they, while not reckoning in the least with the despised evil reality, unexpectedly became in this evil reality, practical helps to the reaction, where previously they had only been, for the most part, revolutionary speculations.

On the same ground of abstract, unhistorical methods of observation stand those today who would, in the manner of a board of directors, put the mass strike in Germany on the calendar on an appointed day, and those who, like the participants in the trade-union congress at Cologne, would by a prohibition of “propaganda” eliminate the problem of the mass strike from the face of the earth. Both tendencies proceed on the common purely anarchistic assumption that the mass strike is a purely technical means of struggle which can be “decided” at their pleasure and strictly according to conscience, or “forbidden” – a kind of pocket-knife which can be kept in the pocket clasped “ready for any emergency,” and according to the decision, can be unclasped and used. The opponents of the mass strike do indeed claim for themselves the merit of taking into consideration the historical groundwork and the material conditions of the present conditions in Germany in opposition to the “revolutionary romanticists” who hover in the air, and do not at any point reckon with the hard realities and the possibilities and impossibilities. “Facts and figures ; figures and facts !” they cry, like Mr. Gradgrind in Dickens' Hard Times.

What the trade-union opponent of the mass strike understands by the “historical basis” and “material conditions” is two things – on the one hand the weakness of the proletariat, and on the other hand, the strength of Prussian-German militarism. The inadequate organisation of the workers and the imposing Prussian bayonet – these are the facts and figures upon which these trade-union leaders base their practical policy in the given case. Now it is quite true that the trade-union cash box and the Prussian bayonet are material and very historical phenomena, but the conception based upon them is not historical materialism in Marx's sense but a policemanlike materialism in the sense of Puttkammer. The representatives of the capitalist police state reckon on much, and indeed, exclusively, with the occasional real power of the organised proletariat as well as with the material might of the bayonet, and from the comparative example of these two rows of figures the comforting conclusion is always drawn that the revolutionary labour movement is produced by individual demagogues and agitators ; and that therefore there is in the prisons and bayonets an adequate means of subduing the unpleasant “passing phenomena.”

The class-conscious German workers have at last grasped the humour of the policemanlike theory that the whole modern labour movement is an artificial, arbitrary product of a handful of conscienceless “demagogues and agitators.”

It is exactly the same conception, however, that finds expression when two or three worthy comrades unite in a voluntary column of night-watchmen in order to warn the German working-class against the dangerous agitation of a few “revolutionary romanticists” and their “propaganda of the mass strike” ; or, when on the other side, a noisy indignation campaign is engineered by those who, by means of “confidential” agreements between the executive of the party and the general commission of the trade unions, believe they can prevent the outbreak of the mass strike in Germany.

If it depended on the inflammatory “propaganda” of revolutionary romanticists or on confidential or public decisions of the party direction, then we should not even yet have had in Russia a single serious mass strike. In no country in the world – as I pointed out in March 1905 in the Sächsische Arbeiterzeitung – was the mass strike so little “propagated” or even “discussed” as in Russia. And the isolated examples of decisions and agreements of the Russian party executive which really sought to proclaim the mass strike of their own accord – as, for example, the last attempt in August of this year after the dissolution of the Duma – are almost valueless.

If, therefore, the Russian Revolution teaches us anything, it teaches above all that the mass strike is not artificially “made,” not “decided” at random, not “propagated,” but that it is a historical phenomenon which, at a given moment, results from social conditions with historical inevitability. It is not, therefore, by abstract speculations on the possibility or impossibility, the utility or the injuriousness of the mass strike, but only by an examination of those factors and social conditions out of which the mass strike grows in the present phase of the class struggle – in other words, it is not by subjective criticism of the mass strike from the standpoint of what is desirable, but only by objective investigation of the sources of the mass strike from the standpoint of what is historically inevitable, that the problem can be grasped or even discussed.

In the unreal sphere of abstract logical analysis it can be shown with exactly the same force on either side that the mass strike is absolutely impossible and sure to be defeated, and that it is possible and that its triumph cannot be questioned. And therefore the value of the evidence led on each side is exactly the same – and that is nil. Therefore, the fear of the “propagation” of the mass strike, which has even led to formal anathamas against the persons alleged to be guilty of this crime, is solely the product of the droll confusion of persons. It is just as impossible to “propagate” the mass strike as an abstract means of struggle as it is to propagate the “revolution.” “Revolution” like “mass strike” signifies nothing but an external form of the class struggle, which can have sense and meaning only in connection with definite political situations.

If anyone were to undertake to make the mass strike generally, as a form of proletarian action, the object of methodological agitation, and to go house-to-house canvassing with this “idea” in order to gradually win the working-class to it, it would be as idle and profitless and absurd an occupation as it would be to seek to make the idea of the revolution or of the fight at the barricades the object of a special agitation. The mass strike has now become the centre of the lively interest of the German and the international working-class because it is a new form of struggle, and as such is the sure symptom of a thoroughgoing internal revolution in the relations of the classes and in the conditions of the class struggle. It is a testimony to the sound revolutionary instinct and to the quick intelligence of the mass of the German proletariat that, in spite of the obstinate resistance of their trade-union leaders, they are applying themselves to this new problem with such keen interest.

But it does not meet the case, in the presence of this interest and of this fine, intellectual thirst and desire for revolutionary deeds on the part of the workers, to treat them to abstract mental gymnastics on the possibility or impossibility of the mass strike ; they should be enlightened on the development of the Russian Revolution, the international significance of that revolution, the sharpening of class antagonisms in Western Europe, the wider political perspectives of the class struggle in Germany, and the role and the tasks of the masses in the coming struggles. Only in this form will the discussion on the mass strike lead to the widening of the intellectual horizon of the proletariat, to the sharpening of their way of thinking, and to the steeling of their energy.

Viewed from this standpoint however, the criminal proceedings desired by the enemies of “revolutionary romanticism” appear in all their absurdity, because, in treating of the problem, one does not adhere strictly to the text of the Jena resolution. The “practical politicians” agree to this resolution if need be, because they couple the mass strike chiefly with the fate of universal suffrage, from which it follows that they can believe in two things – first, that the mass strike is of a purely defensive character, and second, that the mass strike is even subordinate to parliamentarism, that is, has been turned into a mere appendage of parliamentarism. But the real kernel of the Jena resolution in this connection is that in the present position of Germany an attempt on the part of the prevailing reaction on the parliamentary vote would in all probability be the moment for the introduction of, and the signal for, a period of stormy political struggles in which the mass strike as a means of struggle in Germany might well come into use for the first time.

But to seek to narrow and to artificially smother the social importance, and to limit the historical scope, of the mass strike as a phenomenon and as a problem of the class struggle by the wording of a congress resolution is an undertaking which for short-sightedness can only be compared with the veto on discussion of the trade-union congress at Cologne. In the resolution of the Jena Congress, German social democracy has officially taken notice of the fundamental change which the Russian Revolution [of 1905] has effected in the international conditions of the proletarian class struggle, and has announced its capacity for revolutionary development and its power of adaptability to the new demands of the coming phase of the class struggle. Therein lies the significance of the Jena resolution. As for the peaceful application of the mass strike in Germany, history will decide that as it decided it in Russia – history in which German social democracy with its decisions is, it is true, an important factor, but, at the same time, only one factor amongst many.

III. Development of the Mass Strike Movement in Russia

The mass strike, as it appears for the most part in the discussion in Germany, is a very clear and simply thought out, sharply sketched isolated phenomenon. It is the political mass strike exclusively that is spoken of. What is meant by it is a single grand rising of the industrial proletariat springing from some political motive of the highest importance, and undertaken on the basis of an opportune and mutual understanding on the part of the controlling authorities of the new party and of the trade unions, and carried through in the spirit of party discipline and in perfect order, and in still more perfect order brought to the directing committees as a signal given at the proper time, by which committees the regulation of support, the cost, the sacrifice – in a word, the whole material balance of the mass strike – is exactly determined in advance.

Now, when we compare this theoretical scheme with the real mass strike, as it appeared in Russia five years ago, we are compelled to say that this representation, which in the German discussion occupies the central position, hardly corresponds to a single one of the many mass strikes that have taken place, and on the other hand that the mass strike in Russia displays such a multiplicity of the most varied forms of action that it is altogether impossible to speak of “the” mass strike, of an abstract schematic mass strike. All the factors of the mass strike, as well as its character, are not only different in the different towns and districts of the country, but its general character has often changed in the course of the revolution. The mass strike has passed through a definite history in Russia, and is passing still further through it. Who, therefore, speaks of the mass strike in Russia must, above all things, keep its history before his eyes.

The present official period, so to speak, of the Russian Revolution is justly dated from the rising of the proletariat on January 22, 1905, when the demonstration of 200,000 workers ended in a frightful bloodbath before the czar's palace. The bloody massacre in St. Petersburg was, as is well known, the signal for the outbreak of the first gigantic series of mass strikes which spread over the whole of Russia within a few days and which carried the call to action of the revolution from St. Petersburg to every corner of the empire and amongst the widest sections of the proletariat. But the St. Petersburg rising of January 22 was only the critical moment of a mass strike, which the proletariat of the czarist capital had previously entered upon in January 1905. The January mass strike was without doubt carried through under the immediate influence of the gigantic general strike, which in December 1904 broke out in the Caucasus, in Baku, and for a long time kept the whole of Russia in suspense. The events of December in Baku were on their part only the last and powerful ramification of those tremendous mass strikes which, like a periodic earthquake, shook the whole of south Russia, and whose prologue was the mass strike in Batum in the Caucasus in March 1902.

This first mass strike movement in the continuous series of present revolutionary eruptions is finally separated by five or six years from the great general strike of the textile workers in St. Petersburg in 1896 and 1897, and if this movement is apparently separated from the present revolution by a few years of apparent stagnation and strong reaction, everyone who knows the inner political development of the Russian proletariat to their present stage of class consciousness and revolutionary energy will realise that the history of the present period of the mass struggles begins with those general strikes in St. Petersburg. They are therefore important for the problems of the mass strike because they already contain, in the germ, all the principal factors of later mass strikes.

Again, the St. Petersburg general strike of 1896 appears as a purely economic partial wage struggle. Its causes were the intolerable working conditions of the spinners and weavers in St. Petersburg ; a working day of thirteen, fourteen or fifteen hours, miserable piecework rates, and a whole series of contemptible chicaneries on the part of the employers. The workers, however, patiently endured this condition of things, for a long time till an apparently trivial circumstance filled the cup to overflowing. The coronation of the present czar, Nicholas II, which had been postponed for two years through fear of the revolutionaries, was celebrated in May 1896, and on that occasion the St. Petersburg employers displayed their patriotic zeal by giving their workers three days compulsory holidays, for which, curious to relate, they did not desire to pay their employees. The workers angered by this began to move. After a conference of about three hundred of the intelligent workers in the Ekaterinhof Garden a strike was decided upon, and the following demands were formulated : first, payment of wages for the coronation holidays ; second, a working day of ten hours ; third, increased rates for piecework. This happened on May 24. In a week every weaving and spinning establishment was at a standstill and 40,000 workers were in the general strike. Today, this event, measured by the gigantic mass strike of the revolution, may appear a little thing. In the political polar rigidity of the Russia of that time a general strike was something unheard of ; it was even a complete revolution in little. There began, of course, the most brutal persecution. About one thousand workers were arrested and the general strike was suppressed.

Here, already, we see all the fundamental characteristics of the later mass strikes. The next occasion of the movement was wholly accidental, even unimportant, its outbreak elementary ; but in the success of the movement the fruits of the agitation, extending over several years, of the social democracy were seen and in the course of the general strike the social democratic agitators stood at the head of the movement, directed it, and used it to stir up revolutionary agitation. Further, the strike was outwardly a mere economic struggle for wages, but the attitude of the government and the agitation of the social democracy made it a political phenomenon of the first rank. And lastly, the strike was suppressed ; the workers suffered a “defeat.” But in January of the following year the textile workers of St. Petersburg repeated the general strike once more and achieved this time a remarkable success : the legal introduction of a working day of eleven hours throughout the whole of Russia. What was nevertheless a much more important result was this : since the first general strike of 1896 which was entered upon without a trace of organisation or of strike funds, an intensive trade-union fight began in Russia proper which spread from St. Petersburg to the other parts of the country and opened up entirely new vistas to social democratic agitation and organisation, and by which to the apparently death-like peace of the following period, the revolution was prepared for by underground work.

The outbreak of the Caucasian strike in March 1902 was apparently as accidental and as much due to pure economic partial causes (although produced by quite other factors) as that of 1896. It was connected with the serious industrial and commercial crisis which, in Russia, was the precursor of the Japanese war and which, together with it, was the most powerful factor of the nascent revolutionary ferment. The crisis produced an enormous mass of unemployment which nourished the agitation amongst the proletarian masses, and therefore the government, to restore tranquillity amongst the workers, undertook to transport the “superfluous hands” in batches to their respective home districts. One such measure, which was to affect about four hundred petroleum workers called forth a mass protest in Batum, which led to demonstrations, arrests, a massacre, and finally to a political trial in which the purely economic and partial affair suddenly became a political and revolutionary event. The reverberation of the wholly “fruitless” expiring and suppressed strike in Batum was a series of revolutionary mass demonstrations of workers in Nizhni Novgorod, Saratov, and other towns, and therefore a mighty surge forward of the general wave of the revolutionary movement.

Already in November 1902 the first genuine revolutionary echo followed in the shape of a general strike at Rostov-on-Don. Disputes about the rates of pay in the workshops of the Vladicaucasus Railway gave the impetus to this movement. The management sought to reduce wages and therefore the Don committee of social democracy issued a proclamation with a summons to strike for the following demands : a nine-hour day, increase in wages, abolition of fines, dismissal of obnoxious engineers, etc. Entire railway workshops participated in the strike. Presently all other industries joined in and suddenly an unprecedented state of affairs prevailed in Rostov : every industrial work was at a standstill, and every day monster meetings of fifteen to twenty thousand were held in the open air, sometimes surrounded by a cordon of Cossacks, at which for the first time social democratic popular speakers appeared publicly, inflammatory speeches on socialism and political freedom were delivered and received with immense enthusiasm, and revolutionary appeals were distributed by tens of thousands of copies. In the midst of rigid absolutist Russia the proletariat of Rostov won for the first time the right of assembly and freedom of speech by storm. It goes without saying that there was a massacre here. The disputes over wages in the Vladicaucasus Railway workshops grew in a few days into a political general strike and a revolutionary street battle. As an echo to this there followed immediately a general strike at the station of Tichoretzkaia on the same railway. Here also a massacre took place and also a trial, and thus even Tichoretzkaia has taken its place in the indissoluble chain of the factors of the revolution.

The spring of 1903 gave the answer to the defeated strikes in Rostov and Tichoretzkaia ; the whole of South Russia in May, June and July was aflame. Baku, Tiflis, Batum, Elisavetgrad, Odessa, Kiev, Nikolaev and Ekaterinoslav were in a general strike in the literal meaning of those words. But here again the movement did not arise on any preconceived plan from one another ; it flowed together from individual points in each one from different causes and in a different form. The beginning was made by Baku where several partial wage struggles in individual factories and departments culminated in a general strike. In Tiflis, the strike was begun by 2000 commercial employees who had a working day from six o'clock in the morning to eleven at night. On the fourth of July they all left their shops and made a circuit of the town to demand from the proprietors of the shops that they close their premises. The victory was complete ; the commercial employees won a working day from eight in the morning to eight in the evening, and all the factories, workshops and offices, etc, immediately joined them. The newspapers did not appear, and tramway traffic could not be carried on under military protection.

In Elisavetgrad on July 4 a strike began in all the factories with purely economic demands. These were mostly conceded, and the strike ended on the fourteenth. Two weeks later however it broke out again. The bakers this time gave the word and the bricklayers, the joiners, the dyers, the mill-workers, and finally all factory workers joined them.

In Odessa the movement began with a wage struggle in the course of which the “legal” workers' union, founded by government agents according to the programme of the famous gendarme Zubatov, was developed. Historical dialectics had again seized the occasion to play one if its malicious little pranks. The economic struggles of the earlier period (amongst them the great St. Petersburg general strike of 1896) had misled Russian social democracy into exaggerating the importance of so-called economics, and in this way the ground had been prepared amongst the workers for the demagogic activities of Zubatov. After a time, however, the great revolutionary stream turned round the little ship with the false flag and compelled it to ride right at the head of the revolutionary proletarian flotilla. The Zubatovian unions gave the signal for the great general strike in Odessa in the spring of 1904, as for the general strike in St. Petersburg in January 1905. The workers of Odessa, who were not to be deceived by the appearance of friendliness on the part of the government for the workers, and of its sympathy with purely economic strikes, suddenly demanded proof by example, and compelled the Zubatovian “workers union” in a factory to declare a strike for very moderate demands. They were immediately thrown on the streets, and when they demanded the protection of the authorities which was promised them by their leader, the gentleman vanished and left the workers in the wildest excitement.

The social democrats at once placed themselves at the head of affairs, and the strike movement extended to other factories. On the first day of July 2,500 dockers struck work for an increase of wages from eighty kopecks to two rubles, and the shortening of the work day by half-an-hour. On the sixteenth day of July the seamen joined the movement. On the thirteenth day the tramway staff began a strike. Then a meeting took place of all the strikers, seven or eight thousand men ; they formed a procession which went from factory to factory, growing like an avalanche, and presently a crowd of forty to fifty thousand betook themselves to the docks in order to bring all work there to a standstill. A general strike soon reigned throughout the whole city.

In Kiev, a strike began in the railway workshops on July 21st. Here, also, the immediate cause was miserable conditions of labour, and wage demands were presented. On the following day the foundry men followed the example. On July 23rd, an incident occurred which gave the signal for the general strike. During the night two delegates of the railwaymen were arrested. The strikers immediately demanded their release, and as this was not conceded, they decided not to allow trains to leave the town. At the station all the strikers with their wives and families sat down on the railway track – a sea of human beings. They were threatened with rifle salvoes. The workers bared their breasts and cried, “Shoot !” A salvo was fired into the defenceless seated crowd, and thirty to forty corpses, amongst them women and children, remained on the ground. On this becoming known the whole town of Kiev went on strike on the same day. The corpses of the murdered workers were raised on high by the crowd and carried round in a mass demonstration. Meetings, speeches, arrests, isolated street fights – Kiev was in the midst of the revolution. The movement was soon at an end. But the printers had won a shortening of the working day by one hour and a wage increase of one rouble ; in a yeast factory the eight-hour day was introduced ; the railway workshops were closed by order of the ministry ; other departments continued partial strikes for their demands.

In Nikolaev, the general strike broke out under the immediate influence of news from Odessa, Baku, Batum and Tiflis, in spite of the opposition of the social democratic committee who wanted to postpone the outbreak of the movement till the time came when the military should have left the town for manoeuvres. The masses refused to hold back ; one factory made a beginning, the strikes went from one workshop to another, the resistance of the military only poured oil on the fire. Mass processions with revolutionary songs were formed in which all workers, employees, tramways officials, men and women took part. The cessation of work was complete. In Ekaterinoslav, the bakers came out on strike on August 5, on the seventh the men in the railway workshops, and then all the other factories on August 8. Tramway traffic stopped, and the newspapers did not appear.

Thus, the colossal general strike in south Russia came into being in the summer of 1903. By many small channels of partial economic struggles and little “accidental” occurrences it flowed rapidly to a raging sea, and changed the entire south of the czarist empire for some weeks into a bizarre revolutionary workers' republic. “Brotherly embraces, cries of delight and of enthusiasm, songs of freedom, merry laughter, humour and joy were seen and heard in the crowd of many thousands of persons which surged through the town from morning till evening. The mood was exalted ; one could almost believe that a new, better life was beginning on the earth. A most solemn and at the same time an idyllic, moving spectacle.” ... So wrote at the time the correspondent of the Liberal Osvoboshdenye of Peter Struve.

The year 1904 brought with it war, and for a time, an interval of quiet in the mass strike movement. At first a troubled wave of “patriotic” demonstrations arranged by the police authorities spread over the country. The “liberal” bourgeois society was for the time being struck to the ground by the czarist official chauvinism. But soon the social democrats took possession of the arena ; revolutionary workers' demonstrations were opposed to the demonstrations of the patriotic lumpenproletariat, which were organised under police patronage. At last, the shameful defeats of the czarist army woke the liberal society from its lethargy ; then began the era of democratic congresses, banquets, speeches, addresses and manifestos. Absolutism, temporarily suppressed through the disgrace of the war, gave full scope to these gentlemen, and by and by they saw everything in rosy colours. For six months bourgeois liberalism occupied the centre of the stage and the proletariat remained in the shadows. But after a long depression, absolutism again roused itself, the camarilla gathered all its strength and by a single, powerful movement of the Cossack's heel the whole liberal movement was driven into a corner. Banquets, speeches, and congresses were prohibited out of hand as “intolerable presumption,” and liberalism suddenly found itself at the end of its tether.

But exactly at the point where liberalism was exhausted, the action of the proletariat began. In December 1904 the great general strike due to unemployment broke out in Baku ; the working-class was again on the field of battle. As speech was forbidden and rendered impossible, action began. In Baku for some weeks in the midst of the general strike the social democrats ruled as absolute masters of the situation ; and the peculiar events of December in the Caucasus would have caused an immediate sensation if they had not been so quickly put in the shade by the rising tide of the revolution. The fantastic confused news of the general strike in Baku had not reached all parts of the czarist empire when in January 1905 ; the mass strike in St. Petersburg broke out.

Here also, as is well known, the immediate cause was trivial. Two men employed at the Putilov works were discharged on account of their membership in the legal Zubatovian union. This measure called forth a solidarity strike on January 16 of the whole of the 12,000 employed in this works. The social democrats seized the occasion of the strike to begin a lively agitation for the extension of the demands and set forth demands for the eight-hour day, the right of combination, freedom of speech and of the press, etc. The unrest among the Putilov workers communicated itself quickly to the remainder of the proletariat, and in a few days 140,000 workers were on strike. Joint conferences and stormy discussions led to the working out of that proletarian charter of bourgeois freedom with the eight-hour day at its head with which, on January 22nd, 200,000 workers led by Father Gapon, marched to the czar's palace. The conflict of the two Putilov workers who had been subjected to disciplinary punishment had changed within a week into the prologue of the most violent revolution in modern times.

The events that followed upon this are well known, the bloodbath in St. Petersburg called forth gigantic mass strikes and general strike in the month of January, and February in all the industrial centres and towns in Russia, Poland, Lithuania, the Baltic Provinces, the Caucasus, Siberia, from north to south and east to west. On closer inspection, however, it can be seen that the mass strike was appearing in other forms than those of the previous period. Everywhere at that time the social democratic organisations went before with appeals ; everywhere was revolutionary solidarity with the St. Petersburg proletariat expressly stated as the cause and aim of the general strike ; everywhere, at the same time, there were demonstrations, speeches, conflicts with the military.

But even here there was no predetermined plan, no organised action, because the appeals of the parties could scarcely keep pace with the spontaneous risings of the masses ; the leaders had scarcely time to formulate the watchwords of the onrushing crowd of the proletariat. Further, the earlier mass and general strikes had originated from individual coalescing wage struggles which, in the general temper of the revolutionary situation and under the influence of the social democratic agitation, rapidly became political demonstrations ; the economic factor and the scattered condition of trade unionism were the starting point ; all-embracing class action and political direction the result. The movement was now reversed.

The general strikes of January and February broke out as unified revolutionary actions to begin with under the direction of the social democrats ; but this action soon fell into an unending series of local, partial, economic strikes in separate districts, towns, departments and factories. Throughout the whole of the spring of 1905 and into the middle of the summer there fermented throughout the whole of the immense empire an uninterrupted economic strike of almost the entire proletariat against capital – a struggle which caught, on the one hand, all the petty bourgeois and liberal professions, commercial employees, technicians, actors and members of artistic professions – and on the other hand, penetrated to the domestic servants, the minor police officials and even to the stratum of the lumpenproletariat, and simultaneously surged from the towns to the country districts and even knocked at the iron gates of the military barracks.

This is a gigantic, many-coloured picture of a general arrangement of labour and capital which reflects all the complexity of social organisation and of the political consciousness of every section and of every district ; and the whole long scale runs from the regular trade-union struggle of a picked and tested troop of the proletariat drawn from large-scale industry, to the formless protest of a handful of rural proletarians, and to the first slight stirrings of an agitated military garrison, from the well-educated and elegant revolt in cuffs and white collars in the counting house of a bank to the shy-bold murmurings of a clumsy meeting of dissatisfied policemen in a smoke-grimed dark and dirty guardroom.

According to the theory of the lovers of “orderly and well-disciplined” struggles, according to plan and scheme, according to those especially who always ought to know better from afar “how it should have been done,” the decay of the great political general strike of January 1905 into a number of economic struggles was probably “a great mistake” which crippled that action and changed it into a “straw fire.” But social democracy in Russia, which had taken part in the revolution but had not “made” it, and which had even to learn its law from its course itself, was at the first glance put out of countenance for a time by the apparently fruitless ebb of the storm-flood of the general strike. History, however, which had made that “great mistake,” thereby accomplished, heedless of the reasonings of its officious schoolmaster, a gigantic work for the revolution which was as inevitable as it was, in its consequences, incalculable.

The sudden general rising of the proletariat in January under the powerful impetus of the St. Petersburg events was outwardly a political act of the revolutionary declaration of war on absolutism. But this first general direct action reacted inwardly all the more powerfully as it for the first time awoke class feeling and class-consciousness in millions upon millions as if by an electric shock. And this awakening of class feeling expressed itself forthwith in the circumstances that the proletarian mass, counted by millions, quite suddenly and sharply came to realise how intolerable was that social and economic existence which they had patiently endured for decades in the chains of capitalism. Thereupon, there began a spontaneous general shaking of and tugging at these chains. All the innumerable sufferings of the modern proletariat reminded them of the old bleeding wounds. Here was the eight-hour day fought for, there piece-work was resisted, here were brutal foremen “driven off” in a sack on a handcar, at another place infamous systems of fines were fought against, everywhere better wages were striven for and here and there the abolition of homework. Backward, degraded occupations in large towns, small provincial towns, which had hitherto dreamed in an idyllic sleep, the village with its legacy from feudalism – all these, suddenly awakened by the January lightning, bethought themselves of their rights and now sought feverishly to make up for their previous neglect.

Here, the economic struggle was not really a decay, a dissipation of action, but merely change of front, a sudden and natural alteration of the first general engagement with absolutism, in a general reckoning with capital, which in keeping with its character assumed the form of individual, scattered wage struggles. Political class action was not broken in January by the decay of the general strike into economic strikes, but the reverse, after the possible content of political action in the given situation and at the given stage of the revolution was exhausted, it broke, or rather changed, into economic action.

In point of fact, what more could the general strike in January have achieved ? Only complete thoughtlessness could expect that absolutism could be destroyed at one blow by a single “long-drawn” general strike after the anarchist plan. Absolutism in Russia must be overthrown by the proletariat. But in order to be able to overthrow it, the proletariat requires a high degree of political education, of class-consciousness and organisation. All these conditions cannot be fulfilled by pamphlets and leaflets, but only by the living political school, by the fight and in the fight, in the continuous course of the revolution. Further, absolutism cannot be overthrown at any desired moment in which only adequate “exertion” and “endurance” is necessary. The fall of absolutism is merely the outer expression of the inner social and class development of Russian society.

Before absolutism can, and so far that it may, be overthrown, the bourgeois Russia in its interior, in its modern class divisions, must be formed. That requires the drawing together of the various social layers and interests, besides the education of the proletarian revolutionary parties, and not less of the liberal, radical petty bourgeois, conservative and reactionary parties ; it requires self-consciousness, self-knowledge and the class-consciousness not merely of the layers of the people, but also of the layers of the bourgeoisie. But this also can be achieved and come to fruition in no way but in the struggle, in the process of revolution itself, through the actual school of experience, in collision with the proletariat as well as with one another, in incessant mutual friction. This class division and class maturity of bourgeois society, as well as its action in the struggle against absolutism, is on the one hand, hampered and made difficult by the peculiar leading role of the proletariat and, on the other hand, is spurred on and accelerated. The various undercurrents of the social process of the revolution cross one another, check one another, and increase the internal contradictions of the revolution, but in the end accelerate and thereby render still more violent its eruptions.

This apparently simple and purely mechanical problem may therefore be stated thus : the overthrow of absolutism is a long, continuous social process, and its solution demands a complete undermining of the soil of society ; the uppermost part be placed lowest and the lowermost part highest, the apparent “order” must be changed to a chaos, and the apparently “anarchistic” chaos must be changed into a new order. Now in this process of the social transformation of old Russia, not only the January lightning of the first general strike, but also the spring and summer thunderstorms that followed it, played an indispensable part. The embittered general relations of wage labour and capital contributed in equal measure to the drawing together of the various layers of the people and those of the bourgeoisie, to the class-consciousness of the revolutionary proletariat and to that of the liberal and conservative bourgeoisie. And just as the urban wage struggle contributed to the formation of a strong monarchist industrial party in Moscow, so the conflagration of the violent rural rising in Livonia led to the rapid liquidation of the famous aristocratic-agrarian zemstvo liberalism.

But at the same time, the period of the economic struggles of the spring and summer of 1905 made it possible for the urban proletariat, by means of active social democratic agitation and direction, to assimilate later all the lessons of the January prologue and to grasp clearly all the further tasks of the revolution. There was connected with this too, another circumstance of an enduring social character : a general raising of the standard of life of the proletariat, economic, social and intellectual.

The January strikes of 1905 ended victoriously almost throughout. As proof of this some data from the enormous, and still for the most part, inaccessible mass of material may be cited here relating to a few of the most important strikes carried through in Warsaw alone by the social democrats of Poland and Lithuania. In the great factories of the metal industry of Warsaw : Lilpos Ltd. ; Ran and Lowenstein ; Rudzki and Co. ; Borman, Schwede and Co. ; Handtke, Gerlach and Pulst ; Geisler Bros. ; Eberherd, Wolski and Co. ; Konrad and Yanruszkiewicz Ltd. ; Weber and Daehu ; Ewizdzinski and Co. ; Wolonski Wire Works ; Gostynski and Co., Ltd. ; Rrun and Son ; Frage Norblin ; Werner ; Buch ; Kenneberg Bros. ; Labour ; Dittunar Lamp Factory ; Serkowski ; Weszk – twenty-two factories in all, the workers won after a strike of four to five weeks (from January 24–26) a nine-hour day, a 25 per cent increase of wages and obtained various smaller concessions. In the large workshops of the timber industry of Warsaw, namely Karmanski, Damieki, Gromel, Szerbinskik, Twemerowski, Horn, Devensee, Tworkowski, Daab and Martens – twelve workshops in all – the strikes had won by the twenty-third of February the nine-hour day, which they also won, together with an increase in wages, after a further strike of a week.

The entire bricklaying industry began a strike on February 27 and demanded, in conformity with the watchword of social democracy, the eight-hour day ; they won the ten-hour day on March 11 together with an increase of wages for all categories, regular weekly payment of wages, etc. The painters, the cartwrights, the saddlers and the smiths all won the eight-hour day without decrease of wages.

The telephone workshops struck for ten days and won the eight-hour day and an increase of wages of 10 to 15 per cent. The large linen-weaving establishment of Hielle and Dietrich (10,000 workers) after a strike lasting nine weeks, obtained a decrease of the working day by one hour and a wage increase of 5 to 10 per cent. And similar results in endless variation were to be seen in the older branches of industry in Warsaw, Lodz, and Sosnovitz.

In Russia proper the eight-hour day was won in December 1904 by a few categories of oil workers in Baku ; in May 1905 by the sugar workers of the Kiev district ; in January 1905 all the printing works in Samara (where at the same time an increase of piecework rates was obtained and fines were abolished) ; in February in the factory in which medical instruments for the army are manufactured, in a furniture factory and in the cartridge factory in St. Petersburg. Further, the eight-hour day was introduced in the mines at Vladiviostock, in March in the government mechanical workshops dealing with government stock and in May among the employees of the Tiflis electric town railway. In the same month a working day of eight-and-a-half hours was introduced in the large cotton-weaving factory of Marosov (and at the same time the abolition of night work and a wage increase of 8 per cent were won) ; in June an eight-hour day in a few oil works in St. Petersburg and Moscow ; in July a working day of eight-and-a-half hours among the smiths at the St. Petersburg docks ; and in November in all the private printing establishments of the town of Orel (and at the same time an increase of time rates of 20 per cent and piecework rates of 100 per cent, as well as the setting up of a conciliation board on which workers and employers were equally represented.)

The nine-hour day in all the railway workshops (in February), in many government, military and naval workshops, in most of the factories of the town of Berdiansk, in all the printing works of the towns of Poltava and Munsk ; nine-and-a-half hours in the shipyards, mechanical workshops and foundries in the town of Nikolaev, in June, after a general strike of waiters in Warsaw, in many restaurants and cafes (and at the same time a wage increase of 20 to 40 per cent, with a two-week holiday in the year).

The ten-hour day in almost all the factories of the towns of Lodz, Sosnovitz, Riga, Kovno, Oval, Dorfat, Minsk, Kharkov, in the bakeries of Odessa, among the mechanics in Kishinev, at a few smelting works in St. Petersburg, in the match factories of Kovno (with an increase of wages of 10 per cent), in all the government marine workshops, and amongst all the dockers.

The wage increases were, in general, smaller than the shortening of hours but always more significant : in Warsaw in the middle of March 1905 a general increase of wages of 15 per cent was fixed by the municipal factories department ; in the centre of the textile industry, Ivanovo Vosnesensk, the wage increase amounted to 7 to 15 per cent, in Kovno the increase affected 73 per cent of the workers. A fixed minimum wage was introduced in some of the bakeries in Odessa, in the Neva shipbuilding yards in St. Petersburg, etc.

It goes without saying that these concessions were withdrawn again, now here and now there. This however was only the cause of renewed strife and led to still more bitter struggles for revenge, and thus the strike period of the spring of 1905 has of itself become the prologue to an endless series of ever-spreading and interlacing economic struggles which have lasted to the present day. In the period of the outward stagnation of the revolution, when the telegraph carried no sensational news from the Russian theatre of war to the outside world, and when the west European laid aside his newspaper in disappointment with the remark there “was nothing doing” in Russia, the great underground work of the revolution was in reality being carried on without cessation, day-by-day and hour-by-hour, in the very heart of the empire. The incessant intensive economic struggle effected, by rapid and abbreviated methods, the transition of capitalism from the stage of primitive accumulation, of patriarchal unmethodical methods of working, to a highly modern, civilised one.

At the present time the actual working day in Russian industry leaves behind, not only the Russian factory legislation (that is the legal working day of eleven hours) but even the actual conditions of Germany. In most departments of large-scale industry in Russia the ten-hour day prevails, which in Germany is declared in social legislation to be an unattainable goal. And what is more, that longed-for “industrial constitutionalism,” for which there is so much enthusiasm in Germany, and for the sake of which the advocates of opportunist tactics would keep ever keen wind from the stagnant waters of their all-suffering parliamentarism, has already been born, together with political “constitutionalism,” in the midst of the revolutionary storm, from the revolution itself ! In actual fact it is not merely a general raising of the standard of life, or the cultural level of the working-class that has taken place. The material standard of life as a permanent stage of well-being has no place in the revolution. Full of contradictions and contrasts it brings simultaneously surprising economic victories and the most brutal acts of revenge on the part of the capitalists ; today the eight-hour day and tomorrow wholesale lockouts and actual starvation for the millions.

The most precious, lasting, thing in the rapid ebb and flow of the wave is its mental sediment : the intellectual, cultural growth of the proletariat, which proceeds by fits and starts, and which offers an inviolable guarantee of their further irresistible progress in the economic as in the political struggle. And not only that. Even the relations of the worker to the employer are turned round ; since the January general strike and the strikes of 1905 which followed upon it, the principle of the capitalist “mastery of the house” is de facto abolished. In the larger factories of all important industrial centres the establishment of workers' committees has, as if by itself, taken place, with which alone the employer negotiates and which decide all disputes.

And finally another thing, the apparently “chaotic” strikes and the “disorganised” revolutionary action after the January general strike are becoming the starting point of a feverish work of organisation. Dame History, from afar, smilingly hoaxes the bureaucratic lay figures who keep grim watch at the gate over the fate of the German trade unions. The firm organisations which, as the indispensable hypothesis for an eventual German mass strike, should be fortified like an impregnable citadel – these organisations are in Russia, on the contrary, already born from the mass strike. And while the guardians of the German trade unions for the most part fear that the organisations will fall in pieces in a revolutionary whirlwind like rare porcelain, the Russian revolution shows us the exact opposite picture ; from the whirlwind and the storm, out of the fire and glow of the mass strike and the street fighting rise again, like Venus from the foam, fresh, young, powerful, buoyant trade unions.

Here again a little example, which, however, is typical of the whole empire. At the second conference of the Russian trade unions which took place at the end of February 1906 in St. Petersburg, the representative of the Petersburg trade unions, in his report on the development of trade-union organisations, of the czarist capital said :

“January 22, 1905, which washed away the Gapon union, was a turning point. The workers in large numbers have learned by experience to appreciate and understand the importance of organisation, and that only they themselves can create these organisations. The first trade union – that of the printers – originated in direct connection with the January movement. The commission appointed to work out the tariffs framed the statutes, and on July 19 the union began its existence. Just about this time the union of office-workers and bookkeepers was called into existence.”

“In addition to those organisations, which extend almost openly, there arose from January to October 1905 semi-legal and illegal trade unions. To the former belonged, for example, the union of chemists' assistants and commercial employees. Amongst the illegal unions special attention must be drawn to the watchmakers' union, whose first secret session was held on April 24th. All attempts to convene a general open meeting were shattered on the obstinate resistance of the police and the employers in the form of the Chamber of Commerce. This mischance has not prevented the existence of the union. The tailors and tailoresses union was founded in 1905 at a meeting in a wood at which seventy tailors were present. After the question of forming the union was discussed a commission was appointed which was entrusted with the task of working out the statutes. All attempts of the commission to obtain a legal existence for the union were unsuccessful. Its activities were confined to agitation and the enrolling of new members in the individual workshops. A similar fate was in store for the shoemakers' union. In July, a secret night meeting was convened in a wood near the city. Over 100 shoemakers attended ; a report was read on the importance of trade unionism, on its history in Western Europe and its tasks in Russia. It was then decided to form a trade union ; a commission of twelve was appointed to work out the statutes and call a general meeting of shoemakers. The statutes were drawn up, but in the meantime it had not been found possible to print them nor had the general meeting been convened.”

These were the first difficult beginnings. Then came the October days, the second general strike, the czar's manifesto of October 30 and the brief “constitution period.” The workers threw themselves with fiery zeal into the waves of political freedom in order to use it forthwith for the purpose of the work of organisation. Besides daily political meetings, debates and the formation of clubs, the development of trade unionism was immediately taken in hand. In October and November forty new trade unions appeared in St. Petersburg. Presently a “central bureau,” that is, a trade-union council, was established, various trade-union papers appeared, and since November a central organ has also been published, The Trade Union.

What was reported above concerning Petersburg was also true on the whole of Moscow and Odessa, Kiev and Nikolaev, Saratov and Voronezh, Samara and Nizhni Novgorod, and all the larger towns of Russia, and to a still higher degree in Poland. The trade unions of different towns seek contact with one another and conferences are held. The end of the “constitution period,” and the return to reaction in December 1905 put a stop for the time being to the open widespread activity of the trade unions, but did not, however, altogether extinguish them. They operate as organisations in secret and occasionally carry on quite open wage struggles. A peculiar mixture of the legal and illegal condition of trade-union life is being built up, corresponding to the highly contradictory revolutionary situation.

But in the midst of the struggle the work of organisation is being more widely extended, in a thoroughgoing, not to say pedantic fashion. The trade-unions of the social democracy of Poland and Lithuania, for example, which at the last congress (in July 1906) were represented by five delegates from a membership of 10,000 are furnished with the usual statutes, printed membership cards, adhesive stamps, etc. And the same bankers and shoemakers, engineers and printers of Warsaw and Lodz who in June 1905 stood on the barricades and in December only awaited the word from Petersburg to begin street fighting, find time and are eager, between one mass strike and another, between prison and lockout, and under the conditions of a siege, to go into their trade-union statutes and discuss them earnestly. These barricade fighters of yesterday and tomorrow have indeed more than once at meetings severely reprimanded their leaders and threatened them with withdrawal from the party because the unlucky trade-union membership cards could not be printed quickly enough – in secret printing works under incessant police persecution. This zeal and this earnestness continue to this day. For example, in the first two weeks of July 1906 fifteen new trade unions appeared in Ekaterinoslav, six in Kostroma, several in Kiev, Poltava, Smolensk, Cherkassy, Proskurvo, down to the most insignificant provincial towns.

In the session of the Moscow trade-union council of June 4 this year, after the acceptance of the reports of individual trade-union delegates, it was decided “that the trade-unions should discipline their members and restrain from street rioting because the time is not considered opportune for the mass strike. In the face of possible provocation on the part of the government, care should be taken that the masses do not stream out in the streets.” Finally, the council decided that if at any time one trade-union began a strike the others should hold back from any wages movement. Most of the economic struggles are now directed by the trade-unions.

Thus the great economic struggle which proceeded from the January general strike, and which has not ceased to the present day, has formed a broad background of the revolution from which, in ceaseless reciprocal action with the political agitation and the external events of the revolution, there ever arise here and there now isolated explosions, and now great sections of the proletariat. Thus there flame up against this background the following events one after the other ; at the May Day demonstration there was an unprecedented, absolute general strike in Warsaw which ended in a bloody encounter between the defenceless crowd and the soldiers. At Lodz in June a mass outing, which was scattered by the soldiers, led to a demonstration of 100,000 workers at the funeral of some of the victims of the brutal soldiery and to a renewed encounter with the military, and finally, on June 23, 24 and 25, passed into the first barricade fight in the czarist empire. Similarly in June the first great revolt of the sailors of the Black Sea Fleet exploded in the harbour of Odessa from a trifling incident on board the armoured vessel Potemkin which reacted immediately on Odessa and Nikolaev in the form of a violent mass strike. As a further echo followed the mass strike and the sailors' revolts in Kronstadt, Libau and Vladivostok.

In the month of October the grandiose experiment of St. Petersburg was made with the introduction of the eight-hour day. The general council of workers delegates decided to achieve the eight-hour day in a revolutionary manner. That means that on the appointed day all the workers of Petersburg should inform their employers that they are not willing to work more than eight hours a day, and should leave their places of work at the end of eight hours. The idea was the occasion of lively agitation, was accepted by the proletariat with enthusiasm and carried out, but very great sacrifices were not thereby avoided. Thus for example, the eight-hour day meant an enormous fall in wages for the textile workers who had hitherto worked eleven hours and that on a system of piecework. This, however, they willingly accepted. Within a week the eight-hour day prevailed in every factory and workshop in Petersburg, and the joy of the workers knew no bounds. Soon, however, the employers, stupefied at first, prepared their defences ; everywhere they threatened to close their factories. Some of the workers consented to negotiate and obtained here a working day of ten hours and there one of nine hours. The elite of the Petersburg proletariat, however, the workers in the large government engineering establishments, remained unshaken, and a lockout ensued which threw from forty-five to fifty thousand men on the streets for a month. At the settlement the eight-hour day movement was carried into the general strike of December which the great lockout had hampered to a great extent.

Meanwhile, however, the second tremendous general strike throughout the whole empire follows in October as a reply to the project of the Bulygin Duma – the strike to which the railwaymen gave the summons. This second great action of the proletariat already bears a character essentially different from that of the first one in January. The element of political consciousness already plays a much bigger role. Here also, to be sure, the immediate occasion for the outbreak of the mass strike was a subordinate and apparently accidental thing : the conflict of the railwaymen with the management over the pension fund. But the general rising of the industrial proletariat which followed upon it was conducted in accordance with clear political ideas. The prologue of the January strike was a procession to the czar to ask for political freedom : the watchword of the October strike ran away with the constitutional comedy of czarism !

And thanks to the immediate success of the general strike, to the czar's manifesto of October 30, the movement does not flow back on itself, as in January but rushes over outwardly in the eager activity of newly acquired political freedom. Demonstrations, meetings, a young press, public discussions and bloody massacres as the end of the story, and thereupon new mass strikes and demonstrations – such is the stormy picture of the November and December days. In November, at the instance of the social democrats in Petersburg the first demonstrative mass strike is arranged as a protest demonstration against the bloody deeds and proclamation of a state of siege in Poland and Livonia.

The fermentation after the brief constitutional period and the gruesome awakening finally leads in December to the outbreak of the third general mass strike throughout the empire. This time its course and its outcome are altogether different from those in the two earlier cases. Political action does not change into economic action as in January, but it no longer achieves a rapid victory as in October. The attempts of the czarist camarilla with real political freedom are no longer made, and revolutionary action therewith, for the first time, and along its whole length, knocked against the strong wall of the physical violence of absolutism. By the logical internal development of progressive experience the mass strike this time changes into an open insurrection, to armed barricades, and street fighting in Moscow. The December days in Moscow close the first eventful year of the revolution as the highest point in the ascending line of political action and of the mass strike movement.

The Moscow events show a typical picture of the logical development and at the same time of the future of the revolutionary movement on the whole : their inevitable close in a general open insurrection, which again on its part cannot come in any other way than through the school of a series of preparatory partial insurrections, which end in partial outward “defeats” and, considered individually, may appear to be “premature.”

The year 1906 brings the elections to the Duma and the Duma incidents. The proletariat, from a strong revolutionary instinct and clear knowledge of the situation, boycotts the whole czarist constitutional farce, and liberalism again occupies the centre stage for a few months. The situation of 1904 appears to have come again, a period of speeches instead of acts, and the proletariat for a time walk in the shadow in order to devote themselves the more diligently to the trade-union struggle and the work of the organisation. The mass strikes are no longer spoken of, while the clattering rockets of liberal rhetoric are fired off day after day. At last, the iron curtain is torn down, the actors are dispersed, and nothing remains of the liberal rockets but smoke and vapour. An attempt of the Central Committee of the Russian social democracy to call forth a mass strike, as a demonstration for the Duma and the reopening of the period of liberal speechmaking, falls absolutely flat. The role of the political mass strike alone is exhausted, but, at the same time, the transition of the mass strike into a general popular rising is not yet accomplished. The liberal episode is past, the proletarian episode is not yet begun. The stage remains empty for the time being.

IV. The Interaction of the Political and the Economic Struggle

We have attempted in the foregoing to sketch the history of the mass strike in Russia in a few strokes. Even a fleeting glance at this history shows us a picture which in no way resembles that usually formed by discussions in Germany on the mass strike. Instead of the rigid and hollow scheme of an arid political action carried out by the decision of the highest committees and furnished with a plan and panorama, we see a bit of pulsating life of flesh and blood, which cannot be cut out of the large frame of the revolution but is connected with all parts of the revolution by a thousand veins.

The mass strike, as the Russian Revolution shows it to us, is such a changeable phenomenon that it reflects all the phases of the political and economic struggle, all stages and factors of the revolution. Its adaptability, its efficiency, the factors of its origin are constantly changing. It suddenly opens new and wide perspectives of the revolution when it appears to have already arrived in a narrow pass and where it is impossible for anyone to reckon upon it with any degree of certainty. It flows now like a broad billow over the whole kingdom, and now divides into a gigantic network of narrow streams ; now it bubbles forth from under the ground like a fresh spring and now is completely lost under the earth. Political and economic strikes, mass strikes and partial strikes, demonstrative strikes and fighting strikes, general strikes of individual branches of industry and general strikes in individual towns, peaceful wage struggles and street massacres, barricade fighting – all these run through one another, run side by side, cross one another, flow in and over one another – it is a ceaselessly moving, changing sea of phenomena. And the law of motion of these phenomena is clear : it does not lie in the mass strike itself nor in its technical details, but in the political and social proportions of the forces of the revolution.

The mass strike is merely the form of the revolutionary struggle and every disarrangement of the relations of the contending powers, in party development and in class division, in the position of counter-revolution – all this immediately influences the action of the strike in a thousand invisible and scarcely controllable ways. But strike action itself does not cease for a single moment. It merely alters its forms, its dimensions, its effect. It is the living pulse-beat of the revolution and at the same time its most powerful driving wheel. In a word, the mass strike, as shown to us in the Russian Revolution, is not a crafty method discovered by subtle reasoning for the purpose of making the proletarian struggle more effective, but the method of motion of the proletarian mass, the phenomenal form of the proletarian struggle in the revolution.

Some general aspects may now be examined which may assist us in forming a correct estimate of the problem of the mass strike :

1. It is absurd to think of the mass strike as one act, one isolated action. The mass strike is rather the indication, the rallying idea, of a whole period of the class struggle lasting for years, perhaps for decades. Of the innumerable and highly varied mass strikes which have taken place in Russia during the last four years, the scheme of the mass strike was a purely political movement, begun and ended after a cut and dried plan, a short single act of one variety only and, at that, a subordinate variety – pure demonstration strike. In the whole course of the five-year period we see in Russia only a few demonstration strikes, which be it noted, were generally confined to single towns. Thus the annual May Day general strike in Warsaw and Lodz in Russia proper on the first of May has not yet been celebrated to any appreciable extent by abstention from work ; the mass strike in Warsaw on September 11, 1905, as a memorial service in honour of the executed Martin Kasprzak ; that of November 1905 in Petersburg as protest demonstrations against the declaration of the state of siege in Poland and Livonia ; that of January 22, 1906 in Warsaw, Lodz, Czentochon and in Dombrowa coal basin, as well as, in part, those in a few Russian towns as anniversary celebrations of the Petersburg bloodbath ; in addition, in July 1906 a general strike in Tiflis as demonstration of sympathy with soldiers sentenced by court-martial on account of the military revolt ; and finally from the same cause, in September 1906, during the deliberations of the court-martial in Reval. All the above great and partial mass strikes and general strikes were not demonstration strikes but fighting strikes, and as such they originated, for the most part, spontaneously, in every case from specific local accidental causes, without plan or design, and grew with elemental power into great movements, and then they did not begin an “orderly retreat,” but turned now into economic struggles, now into street fighting, and now collapsed of themselves.

In this general picture the purely political demonstration strike plays quite a subordinate role – isolated small points in the midst of a mighty expanse. Thereby, temporarily considered, the following characteristic discloses itself : the demonstration strikes which, in contradistinction to the fighting strikes, exhibit the greatest mass of party discipline, conscious direction and political thought, and therefore must appear as the highest and most mature form of the mass strike, play in reality the greatest part in the beginnings of the movement. Thus, for example, the absolute cessation of work on May 1, 1905, in Warsaw, as the first instance of a decision of the social democrats carried throughout in such an astonishing fashion, was an experience of great importance for the proletarian movement in Poland. In the same way the sympathetic strike of the same year in Petersburg made a great impression as the first experiment of conscious systematic mass action in Russia. Similarly the “trial mass strike” of the Hamburg comrades on January 17, 1906, will play a prominent part in the history of the future German mass strike as the first vigorous attempt with the much disputed weapon, and also a very successful and convincingly striking test of the fighting temper and the lust for battle of the Hamburg working class. And just as surely will the period of the mass strike in Germany, when it has once begun in real earnest, lead of itself to a real, general cessation of work on May first. The May Day festival may naturally be raised to a position of honour as the first great demonstration under the aegis of the mass struggle. In this sense the “lame horse,” as the May Day festival was termed at the trade-union congress at Cologne, has still a great future before it and an important part to play, in the proletarian class struggle in Germany.

But with the development of the earnest revolutionary struggle the importance of such demonstrations diminishes rapidly. It is precisely those factors which objectively facilitate the realisation of the demonstration strike after a preconceived plan and at the party's word of command – namely, the growth of political consciousness and the training of the proletariat – make this kind of mass strike impossible ; today the proletariat in Russia, the most capable vanguard of the masses, does not want to know about mass strikes ; the workers are no longer in a mood for jesting and will now think only of a serious struggle with all its consequences. And when, in the first great mass strike in January 1905, the demonstrative element, not indeed in an intentional, but more in an instinctive, spontaneous form, still played a great part, on the other hand, the attempt of the Central Committee of the Russian social democrats to call a mass strike in August as a demonstration for the dissolved Duma was shattered by, among other things, the positive disinclination of the educated proletariat to engage in weak half-actions and mere demonstrations.

2. When, however, we have in view the less important strike of the demonstrative kind, instead of the fighting strike as it represents in Russia today the actual vehicle of proletarian action, we see still more clearly that it is impossible to separate the economic factors from one another. Here also the reality deviates from the theoretical scheme, and the pedantic representation in which the pure political mass strike is logically derived from the trade-union general strike as the ripest and highest stage, but at the same time is kept distinct from it, is shown to be absolutely false. This is expressed not merely in the fact that the mass strike from that first great wage struggle of the Petersburg textile workers in 1896–97 to the last great mass strike in December 1905, passed imperceptibly from the economic field to the political, so that it is almost impossible to draw a dividing line between them.

Again, every one of the great mass strikes repeats, so to speak, on a small scale, the entire history of the Russian mass strike, and begins with a pure economic, or at all events, a partial trade-union conflict, and runs through all the stages to the political demonstration. The great thunderstorm of mass strikes in South Russia in 1902 and 1903 originated, as we have seen, in Baku from a conflict arising from the disciplinary punishment of the unemployed, in Rostov from disputes about wages in the railway workshops, in Tiflis from a struggle of the commercial employees for reduction of working hours, in Odessa from a wage dispute in a single small factory. The January mass strike of 1905 developed from an internal conflict in the Putilov works, the October strike from the struggle of the railway workers for a pension fund, and finally the December strike from the struggle of the postal and telegraph employees for the right of combination. The progress of the movement on the whole is not expressed in the circumstances that the economic initial stage is omitted, but much more in the rapidity with which all the stages to the political demonstration are run through and in the extremity of the point to which the strike moves forward.

But the movement on the whole does not proceed from the economic to the political struggle, nor even the reverse. Every great political mass action, after it has attained its political highest point, breaks up into a mass of economic strikes. And that applies not only to each of the great mass strikes, but also to the revolution as a whole. With the spreading, clarifying and involution of the political struggle, the economic struggle not only does not recede, but extends, organises and becomes involved in equal measure. Between the two there is the most complete reciprocal action.

Every new onset and every fresh victory of the political struggle is transformed into a powerful impetus for the economic struggle, extending at the same time its external possibilities and intensifying the inner urge of the workers to better their position and their desire to struggle. After every foaming wave of political action a fructifying deposit remains behind from which a thousand stalks of economic struggle shoot forth. And conversely. The workers' condition of ceaseless economic struggle with the capitalists keeps their fighting energy alive in every political interval ; it forms, so to speak, the permanent fresh reservoir of the strength of the proletarian classes, from which the political fight ever renews its strength, and at the same time leads the indefatigable economic sappers of the proletariat at all times, now here and now there, to isolated sharp conflicts, out of which public conflicts on a large scale unexpectedly explode.

In a word : the economic struggle is the transmitter from one political centre to another ; the political struggle is the periodic fertilisation of the soil for the economic struggle. Cause and effect here continually change places ; and thus the economic and the political factor in the period of the mass strike, now widely removed, completely separated or even mutually exclusive, as the theoretical plan would have them, merely form the two interlacing sides of the proletarian class struggle in Russia. And their unity is precisely the mass strike. If the sophisticated theory proposes to make a clever logical dissection of the mass strike for the purpose of getting at the “purely political mass strike,” it will by this dissection, as with any other, not perceive the phenomenon in its living essence, but will kill it altogether.

3. Finally, the events in Russia show us that the mass strike is inseparable from the revolution. The history of the Russian mass strike is the history of the Russian Revolution. When, to be sure, the representatives of our German opportunism hear of “revolution,” they immediately think of bloodshed, street fighting or powder and shot, and the logical conclusion thereof is : the mass strike leads inevitably to the revolution, therefore we dare not have it. In actual fact we see in Russia that almost every mass strike in the long run leads to an encounter with the armed guardians of czarist order, and therein the so-called political strikes exactly resemble the larger economic struggle. The revolution, however, is something other and something more than bloodshed. In contradiction to the police interpretation, which views the revolution exclusively from the standpoint of street disturbances and rioting, that is, from the standpoint of “disorder,” the interpretation of scientific socialism sees in the revolution above all a thorough-going internal reversal of social class relations. And from this standpoint an altogether different connection exists between revolution and mass strike in Russia from that contained in the commonplace conception that the mass strike generally ends in bloodshed.

We have seen above the inner mechanism of the Russian mass strike which depends upon the ceaseless reciprocal action of the political and economic struggles. But this reciprocal action is conditioned during the revolutionary period. Only in the sultry air of the period of revolution can any partial little conflict between labour and capital grow into a general explosion. In Germany the most violent, most brutal collisions between the workers and employers take place every year and every day without the struggle overleaping the bounds of the individual departments or individual towns concerned, or even those of the individual factories. Punishment of organised workers in Petersburg and unemployment as in Baku, wage struggles as in Odessa, struggles for the right of combination as in Moscow are the order of the day in Germany. No single one of these cases however changes suddenly into a common class action. And when they grow into isolated mass strikes, which have without question a political colouring, they do not bring about a general storm. The general strike of Dutch railwaymen, which died away in spite of the warmest sympathy, in the midst of the complete impassivity of the proletariat of the country, affords a striking proof of this.

And conversely, only in the period of revolution, when the social foundations and the walls of the class society are shaken and subjected to a constant process of disarrangement, any political class action of the proletariat can arouse from their passive condition in a few hours whole sections of the working class who have hitherto remained unaffected, and this is immediately and naturally expressed in a stormy economic struggle. The worker, suddenly aroused to activity by the electric shock of political action, immediately seizes the weapon lying nearest his hand for the fight against his condition of economic slavery : the stormy gesture of the political struggle causes him to feel with unexpected intensity the weight and the pressure of his economic chains. And while, for example, the most violent political struggle in Germany – the electoral struggle or the parliamentary struggle on the customs tariff – exercised a scarcely perceptible direct influence upon the course and the intensity of the wage struggles being conducted at the same time in Germany, every political action of the proletariat in Russia immediately expresses itself in the extension of the area and the deepening of the intensity of the economic struggle.

The revolution thus first creates the social conditions in which this sudden change of the economic struggle into the political and of the political struggle into the economic is possible, a change which finds its expression in the mass strike. And if the vulgar scheme sees the connection between mass strike and revolution only in bloody street encounters with which the mass strikes conclude, a somewhat deeper look into the Russian events shows an exactly opposite connection : in reality the mass strike does not produce the revolution but the revolution produces the mass strike.

4. It is sufficient in order to comprehend the foregoing to obtain an explanation of the question of the conscious direction and initiative in the mass strike. If the mass strike is not an isolated act but a whole period of the class struggle, and if this period is identical with a period of revolution, it is clear that the mass strike cannot be called at will, even when the decision to do so may come from the highest committee of the strongest social democratic party. As long as the social democracy has not the power to stage and countermand revolutions according to its fancy, even the greatest enthusiasm and impatience of the social democratic troops will not suffice to call into being a real period of mass strike as a living, powerful movement of the people. On the basis of a decision of the party leadership and of party discipline, a single short demonstration may well be arranged similar to the Swedish mass strike, or to the latest Austrian strike, or even to the Hamburg mass strike of January 17. These demonstrations, however, differ from an actual period of revolutionary mass strikes in exactly the same way that the well-known demonstrations in foreign ports during a period of strained diplomatic relations differ from a naval war. A mass strike born of pure discipline and enthusiasm will, at best, merely play the role of an episode, of a symptom of the fighting mood of the working class upon which, however, the conditions of a peaceful period are reflected.

Of course, even during the revolution, mass strikes do not exactly fall from heaven. They must be brought about in some way or another by the workers. The resolution and determination of the workers also play a part and indeed the initiative and the wider direction naturally fall to the share of the organised and most enlightened kernel of the proletariat. But the scope of this initiative and this direction, for the most part, is confined to application to individual acts, to individual strikes, when the revolutionary period is already begun, and indeed, in most cases, is confined within the boundaries of a single town. Thus, for example, as we have seen, the social democrats have already, on several occasions, successfully issued a direct summons for a mass strike in Baku, in Warsaw, in Lodz, and in Petersburg. But this succeeds much less frequently when applied to general movements of the whole proletariat.

Further, there are quite definite limits set to initiative and conscious direction. During the revolution it is extremely difficult for any directing organ of the proletarian movement to foresee and to calculate which occasions and factors can lead to explosions and which cannot. Here also initiative and direction do not consist in issuing commands according to one's inclinations, but in the most adroit adaptability to the given situation, and the closest possible contact with the mood of the masses. The element of spontaneity, as we have seen, plays a great part in all Russian mass strikes without exception, be it as a driving force or as a restraining influence. This does not occur in Russia, however, because social democracy is still young or weak, but because in every individual act of the struggle so very many important economic, political and social, general and local, material and psychical, factors react upon one another in such a way that no single act can be arranged and resolved as if it were a mathematical problem. The revolution, even when the proletariat, with the social democrats at their head, appear in the leading role, is not a manoeuvre of the proletariat in the open field, but a fight in the midst of the incessant crashing, displacing and crumbling of the social foundation. In short, in the mass strikes in Russia the element of spontaneity plays such a predominant part, not because the Russian proletariat are “uneducated,” but because revolutions do not allow anyone to play the schoolmaster with them.

On the other hand, we see in Russia that the same revolution which rendered the social democrats' command of the mass strike so difficult, and which struck the conductor's baton from, or pressed into, their hand at all times in such a comical fashion – we see that it resolved of itself all those difficulties of the mass strike which, in the theoretical scheme of German discussion are regarded as the chief concern of the “directing body” : the question of “provisioning,” “discovery of cost,” and “sacrifice.” It goes without saying that it does not resolve them in the way that they would be resolved in a quiet confidential discussion between the higher directing committees of the labour movement, the members sitting pencil in hand. The “regulation” of all these questions consists in the circumstance that the revolution brings such an enormous mass of people upon the stage that any computation or regulation of the cost of the movement such as can be effected in a civil process, appears to be an altogether hopeless undertaking.

The leading organisations in Russia certainly attempt to support the direct victims to the best of their ability. Thus, for example, the brave victims of the gigantic lockout in St. Petersburg, which followed upon the eight-hour day campaign, were supported for weeks. But all these measures are, in the enormous balance of the revolution, but as a drop in the ocean. At the moment that a real, earnest period of mass strikes begins, all these “calculations” of “cost” become merely projects for exhausting the ocean with a tumbler. And it is a veritable ocean of frightful privations and sufferings which is brought by every revolution to the proletarian masses. And the solution which a revolutionary period makes of this apparently invincible difficulty consists in the circumstances that such an immense volume of mass idealism is simultaneously released that the masses are insensible to the bitterest sufferings. With the psychology of a trade unionist who will not stay off his work on May Day unless he is assured in advance of a definite amount of support in the event of his being victimised, neither revolution nor mass strike can be made. But in the storm of the revolutionary period even the proletarian is transformed from a provident pater familas demanding support, into a “revolutionary romanticist,” for whom even the highest good, life itself, to say nothing of material well-being, possesses but little in comparison with the ideals of the struggle.

If, however, the direction of the mass strike in the sense of command over its origin, and in the sense of the calculating and reckoning of the cost, is a matter of the revolutionary period itself, the directing of the mass strike becomes, in an altogether different sense, the duty of social democracy and its leading organs. Instead of puzzling their heads with the technical side, with the mechanism, of the mass strike, the social democrats are called upon to assume political leadership in the midst of the revolutionary period.

To give the cue for, and the direction to, the fight ; to so regulate the tactics of the political struggle in its every phase and at its every moment that the entire sum of the available power of the proletariat which is already released and active, will find expression in the battle array of the party ; to see that the tactics of the social democrats are decided according to their resoluteness and acuteness and that they never fall below the level demanded by the actual relations of forces, but rather rise above it – that is the most important task of the directing body in a period of mass strikes. And this direction changes of itself, to a certain extent, into technical direction. A consistent, resolute, progressive tactic on the part of the social democrats produces in the masses a feeling of security, self-confidence and desire for struggle ; a vacillating weak tactic, based on an underestimation of the proletariat, has a crippling and confusing effect upon the masses. In the first case mass strikes break out “of themselves” and “opportunely” ; in the second case they remain ineffective amidst direct summonses of the directing body to mass strikes. And of both the Russian Revolution affords striking examples.

V. Lessons of the Working-Class Movement in Russia Applicable to Germany

Let us now see how far all these lessons which can be learned from the Russian mass strikes are applicable to Germany. The social and political conditions, the history and status of the labour movement are widely different in Germany and Russia. At first sight the inner law of the Russian mass strikes as sketched above may appear to be solely the product of specifically Russian conditions which need not be taken into account by the German proletariat. Between the political and economic struggle in the Russian Revolution there is a very close internal connection ; their unity becomes an actual fact in the period of mass strikes. But is not that simply a result of Russian absolutism ? In a state in which every form and expression of the labour movement is forbidden, in which the simplest strike is a political crime, it must logically follow that every economic struggle will become a political one.

Further, when, contrariwise, the first outbreak of the political revolution has drawn after it a general reckoning of the Russian working class with the employers, that is likewise a simple result of the circumstances that the Russian worker has hitherto had a very low standard of life, and has never yet engaged in a single economic struggle for an improvement of his condition. The proletariat in Russia has first, to a certain extent, to work their way out of these miserable conditions, and what wonder that they eagerly availed themselves, with the eagerness of youth, of the first means to that end as soon as the revolution brought the first fresh breeze into the heavy air of absolutism ?

And finally, the stormy revolutionary course of the Russian mass strike as well as their preponderant spontaneous, elementary character is explained on the one hand by the political backwardness of Russia, by the necessity of first overthrowing the oriental despotism, and on the other hand, by the want of organisation and of discipline of the Russian proletariat. In a country in which the working-class has had thirty years experience of political life, a strong social democratic party of three million members and a quarter of a million picked troops organised in trade unions, neither the political struggle nor the mass strike can possibly assume the same stormy and elemental character as in a semi-barbarous state which has just made the leap from the Middle Ages into the modern bourgeois order. This is the current conception amongst those who would read the stage of maturity of the social conditions of a country from the text of the written laws.

Let us examine the questions in their order. To begin with it is going the wrong way about the matter to date the beginning of the economic struggle in Russia only from the outbreak of the revolution. As a matter of fact, the strikes and wage disputes in Russia proper were increasingly the order of the day since the nineties of the last century, and in Russian Poland even since the eighties, and had eventually won civic rights for the workers. Of course, they were frequently followed by brutal police measures, but nevertheless they were daily phenomena. For example, in both Warsaw and Lodz as early as 1891, there was a considerable strike fund, and the enthusiasm for trade unionism in these years had even created that “economic” illusion in Poland for a short time which a few years later prevailed in Petersburg and the rest of Russia.

In the same way there is a great deal of exaggeration in the notion that the proletarian in the czarist empire had the standard of life of a pauper before the revolution. The layer of the workers in large industries in the great towns who had been the most active and zealous in the economic as in the political struggle are, as regards the material conditions of life, on a scarcely lower plane than the corresponding layer of the German proletariat, and in some occupations as high wages are to be met with in Russia as in Germany, and here and there, even higher. And as regards the length of the working day, the difference in the large-scale industries in the two countries is here and there, insignificant. The notion of the presumed material and cultural condition of helotry of the Russian working-class is similarly without justification in fact. This notion is contradicted, as a little reflection will show, by the facts of the revolution itself and the prominent part that was played therein by the proletariat. With paupers no revolution of this political maturity and cleverness of thought can be made, and the industrial workers of St. Petersburg and Warsaw, Moscow and Odessa, who stand in the forefront of the struggle, are culturally and mentally much nearer to the west European type than is imagined by those who regard bourgeois parliamentarism and methodical trade-union practice as the indispensable, or even the only, school of culture for the proletariat. The modern large capitalist development of Russia and the intellectual influence of social democracy exerted for a decade-and-a-half, which has encouraged and directed the economic struggle, have accomplished an important piece of cultural work without the outward guarantees of the bourgeois legal order.

The contrast, however, grows less when, on the other hand, we look a little further into the actual standard of life in the German working-class. The great political mass strikes in Russia have, from the first, aroused the widest layers of the proletariat and thrown them into a feverish economic struggle. But are there not in Germany whole unenlightened sections amongst the workers to which the warm light of the trade unions has hitherto scarcely penetrated, whole layers which up to the present have never attempted, or vainly attempted, to raise themselves out of their social helotry by means of daily wage struggles ?

Let us consider the poverty of the miners. Already in the quiet working day, in the cold atmosphere of the parliamentary monotony of Germany – as also in other countries, and even in the El Dorado of trade unionism, Great Britain – the wage struggle of the mine workers hardly ever expresses itself in any other way than by violent eruptions from time-to-time in mass strikes of typical, elemental character. This only shows that the antagonism between labour and capital is too sharp and violent to allow of its crumbling away in the form of quiet systematic, partial trade-union struggles. The misery of the miners, with its eruptive soil which even in “normal” times is a storm centre of the greatest violence, must immediately explode, in a violent economic socialist struggle, with every great political mass action of the working class, with every violent sudden jerk which disturbs the momentary equilibrium of everyday social life.

Let us take further, the case of the poverty of the textile workers. Here also the bitter, and for the most part fruitless, outbreaks of the wage struggle which raged through Vogtland every few years, give but a faint idea of the vehemence with which the great agglomerate mass of helots of trustified textile capital must explode during a political convulsion, during a powerful, daring mass action of the German proletariat. Again, let us take the poverty of the home-workers, of the ready-made clothing workers, of the electricity workers, veritable storm centres in which violent struggles will be the more certain to break out with every political atmospheric disturbance in Germany, the less frequently the proletariat take up the struggle in tranquil times ; and the more unsuccessfully they fight at any time, the more brutally will capital comply them to return, gnashing their teeth to the yoke of slavery.

Now, however, whole great categories of the proletariat have to be taken into account which, in the “normal” course of things in Germany, cannot possibly take part in a peaceful economic struggle for the improvement of their condition and cannot possibly avail themselves of the right of combination. First and foremost we give the example of the glaring poverty of the railway and the postal employees. For these government workers there exist Russian conditions in the midst of the parliamentary constitutional state of Germany, that is to say, Russian conditions as they existed only before the revolution, during the untroubled splendour of absolutism. Already in the great October strike of 1905 the Russian railwaymen in the then formally absolutist Russia, were, as regards the economic and social freedom of their movement, head and shoulders above the Germans. The Russian railway and postal employees won the de facto right of combination in the storm, and if momentarily trial upon trial and victimisation were the rule, they were powerless to affect the inner unity of workers.

However, it would be an altogether false psychological reckoning if one were to assume, with the German reaction, that the slavish obedience of the German railway and postal employees will last forever, that it is a rock which nothing can wear away. When even the German trade-union leaders have become accustomed to the existing conditions to such an extent that they, untroubled by an indifference almost without parallel in the whole of Europe, can survey with complete satisfaction the results of the trade-union struggle in Germany, then the deep-seated, long-suppressed resentment of the uniformed state slaves will inevitably find vent with a general rising of the industrial workers And when the industrial vanguard of the proletariat, by means of mass strikes, grasp at new political rights or attempt to defend existing ones, the great army of railway of railway and postal employees must of necessity bethink themselves of their own special disgrace, and at last rouse themselves for their liberation from the extra share of Russian absolutism which is specially reserved for them in Germany.

The pedantic conception which would unfold great popular movements according to plan and recipe regards the acquisition of the right of combination for the railway workers as necessary before anyone will “dare to think” of a mass strike in Germany. The actual and natural course of events can only be the opposite of this : only from a spontaneous powerful mass strike action can the right of combination from the German railway workers, as well as for the postal employees, actually be born. And the problems which in the existing conditions of Germany are insoluble will suddenly find their solution under the influence and the pressure of a universal political mass action of the proletariat.

And finally, the greatest and most important : the poverty of the land workers. If the British trade-unions are composed exclusively of industrial workers, that is quite understandable in view of the special character of the British national economy, and of the unimportant part that agriculture plays, on the whole, in the economic life of Britain. In Germany, a trade-union organisation, be it ever so well constructed, if it comprises only industrial workers, and is inaccessible to the great army of land workers, will give only a weak, partial picture of the conditions of the proletariat. But again it would be a fatal illusion to think that conditions in the country are unalterable and immovable and that the indefatigable educational work of the social democracy, and still more, the whole internal class politics of Germany, does not continually undermine the outward passivity of the agricultural workers and that any great general class action of the German proletariat, for whatever object undertaken, may not also draw the rural proletariat into the conflict.

Similarly, the picture of the alleged economic superiority of the German over the Russian proletariat is considerably altered when we look away from the tables of the industries and departments organised in trade-unions and bestow a look upon those great groups of the proletariat who are altogether outside the trade-union struggle, or whose special economic condition does not allow of their being forced into the narrow framework of the daily guerrilla warfare of the trade-unions. We see there one important sphere after another, in which the sharpening of antagonisms has reached the extreme point, in which inflammable material in abundance is heaped up, in which there is a great deal of “Russian absolutism” in its most naked form, and in which economically the most elementary reckonings with capital have first to be made.

In a general political mass strike of the proletariat, then, all these outstanding accounts would inevitably be presented to the prevailing system. An artificially arranged demonstration of the urban proletariat, taking place once, a mere mass strike action arising out of discipline, and directed by the conductor's baton of a party executive, could therefore leave the broad masses of the people cold and indifferent. But a powerful and reckless fighting action of the industrial proletariat, born of a revolutionary situation, must surely react upon the deeper-lying layers, and ultimately draw all those into a stormy general economic struggle who, in normal times, stand aside from the daily trade-union fight.

But when we come back to the organised vanguard of the German industrial proletariat, on the other hand, and keep before our eyes the objects of the economic struggle which have been striven for by the Russian working class, we do not at all find that there is any tendency to look down upon the things of youth, as the oldest German trade-unions had reason to do. Thus the most important general demand of the Russian strikes since January 22 – the eight-hour day – is certainly not an unattainable platform for the German proletariat, but rather in most cases, a beautiful, remote ideal. This applies also to the struggle for the “mastery of the household” platform, to the struggle for the introduction of workers' committees into all the factories, for the abolition of piece-work, for the abolition of homework in handicraft, for the complete observance of Sunday rest, and for the recognition of the right of combination. Yes, on closer inspection all the economic objects of struggle of the Russian proletariat are also for the German proletariat very real, and touch a very sore spot in the life of the workers.

It therefore inevitably follows that the pure political mass strike, which is operated with for preference, is, in Germany, a mere lifeless theoretical plan. If the mass strikes result, in a natural way from a strong revolutionary ferment, they will equally naturally, exactly as in Russia, change into a whole period of elementary, economic struggles. The fears of the trade-union leaders, therefore, that the struggle for economic interests in a period of stormy political strife, in a period of mass strikes, can simply be pushed aside and suppressed rest upon an utterly baseless, schoolboy conception of the course of events. A revolutionary period in Germany would also so alter the character of the trade-union struggle and develop its potentialities to such an extent that the present guerrilla warfare of the trade-unions would be child's play in comparison. And on the other hand, from this elementary economic tempest of mass strikes, the political struggle would always derive new impetus and fresh strength. The reciprocal action of economic and political struggle, which is the main-spring of present-day strikes in Russia, and at the same time the regulating mechanism of the revolutionary action of the proletariat, would also naturally result in Germany from the conditions themselves.

VI. Co-operation of Organised and Unorganised Workers Necessary for Victory

In connection with this, the question of organisation in relation to the problem of the mass strike in Germany assumes an essentially different aspect.

The attitude of many trade-union leaders to this question is generally summed up in the assertion : “We are not yet strong enough to risk such a hazardous trial of strength as a mass strike.” Now this position is so far untenable that it is an insoluble problem to determine the time, in a peaceful fashion by counting heads, when the proletariat are “strong enough” for any struggle. Thirty years ago the German trade-unions had 50,000 members. That was obviously a number with which a mass strike on the above scale was not to be thought of. Fifteen years later the trade-unions were four times as strong, and counted 237,000 members. If, however, the present trade-union leaders had been asked at the time if the organisation of the proletariat was then sufficiently ripe for a mass strike, they would assuredly have replied that it was still far from it and that the number of those organised in trade-unions would first have to be counted by millions.

Today the number of trade-unionists already runs into the second million, but the views of the leaders are still exactly the same, and may very well be the same to the end. The tacit assumption is that the entire working class of Germany, down to the last man and the last woman, must be included in the organisation before it “is strong enough” to risk a mass action, which then, according to the old formula, would probably be represented as “superfluous.” This theory is nevertheless absolutely utopian, for the simple reason that it suffers from an internal contradiction, that it goes in a vicious circle. Before the workers can engage in any direct class struggle they must all be organised. The circumstances, the conditions, of capitalist development and of the bourgeois state make it impossible that, in the normal course of things, without stormy class struggles, certain sections – and these the greatest, the most important, the lowest and the most oppressed by capital, and by the state – can be organised at all. We see even in Britain, which has had a whole century of indefatigable trade-union effort without any “disturbances” – except at the beginning in the period of the Chartist movement – without any “romantic revolutionary” errors or temptations, it has not been possible to do more than organise a minority of the better-paid sections of the proletariat.

On the other hand the trade-unions, like all fighting organisations of the proletariat, cannot permanently maintain themselves in any other way than by struggle, and that not struggles of the same kind as the war between the frogs and the mice in the stagnant waters of the bourgeois parliamentary period, but struggle in the troubled revolutionary periods of the mass strike. The rigid, mechanical-bureaucratic conception cannot conceive of the struggle save as the product of organisation at a certain stage of its strength. On the contrary, the living, dialectical explanation makes the organisation arise as a product of the struggle. We have already seen a grandiose example of this phenomenon in Russia, where a proletariat almost wholly unorganised created a comprehensive network of organisational appendages in a year-and-a-half of stormy revolutionary struggle.

Another example of this kind is furnished by the history of the German unions. In the year 1878 the number of trade-union members amounted to 50,000. According to the theory of the present-day trade-union leaders this organisation, as stated above, was not nearly “strong enough” to enter upon a violent political struggle. The German trade-unions however, weak as they were at the time, did take up the struggle – namely the struggle against the anti-socialist law – and showed that they were “strong enough,” not only to emerge victorious from the struggle, but to increase their strength five-fold : in 1891, after the repeal of the anti-socialist laws, their membership was 277,659. It is true that the methods by which the trade-unions conquered in the struggle against the anti-socialist laws do not correspond to the ideal of a peaceful, bee-like, uninterrupted process : they went first into the fight absolutely in ruins, to rise again on the next wave and to be born anew. But this is precisely the specific method of growth corresponding to the proletarian class organisations : to be tested in the struggle and to go forth from the struggle with increased strength.

On a closer examination of German conditions and of the condition of the different sections of the working class, it is clear that the coming period of stormy political mass struggles will not bring the dreaded, threatening downfall of the German trade-unions, but on the contrary, will open up hitherto unsuspected prospects of the extension of their sphere of power – an extension that will proceed rapidly by leaps and bounds. But the question has still another aspect. The plan of undertaking mass strikes as a serious political class action with organised workers only is absolutely hopeless. If the mass strike, or rather, mass strikes, and the mass struggle are to be successful they must become a real people's movement, that is, the widest sections of the proletariat must be drawn into the fight. Already in the parliamentary form the might of the proletarian class struggle rests not on the small, organised group but on the surrounding periphery of the revolutionary-minded proletariat. If the social democrats were to enter the electoral battle with their few hundred thousand organised members alone, they would condemn themselves to futility. And although it is the tendency of social democracy wherever possible to draw the whole great army of its voters into the party organisation, its mass of voters after thirty years experience of social democracy is not increased through the growth of the party organisation, but on the contrary, the new sections of the proletariat, won for the time being through the electoral struggle, are the fertile soil for the subsequent seed of organisation. Here the organisation does not supply the troops of the struggle, but the struggle, in an ever growing degree, supplies recruits for the organisation.

In a much greater degree does this obviously apply to direct political mass action than to the parliamentary struggle. If the social democrats, as the organised nucleus of the working class, are the most important vanguard of the entire body of the workers and if the political clarity, the strength, and the unity of the labour movement flow from this organisation, then it is not permissible to visualise the class movement of the proletariat as a movement of the organised minority. Every real, great class struggle must rest upon the support and co-operation of the widest masses, and a strategy of class struggle which does not reckon with this co-operation, which is based upon the idea of the finely stage-managed march out of the small, well-trained part of the proletariat is foredoomed to be a miserable fiasco.

Mass strikes and political mass struggles cannot, therefore, possibly be carried through in Germany by the organised workers alone, nor can they be appraised by regular “direction” from the central committee of a party. In this case, again – exactly as in Russia – they depend not so much upon “discipline” and “training” and upon the most careful possible regulation beforehand of the questions of support and cost, as upon a real revolutionary, determined class action, which will be able to win and draw into the struggle the widest circles of the unorganised workers, according to their mood and their conditions.

The overestimate and the false estimate of the role of organisations in the class struggle of the proletariat is generally reinforced by the underestimate of the unorganised proletarian mass and of their political maturity. In a revolutionary period, in the storm of great unsettling class struggles, the whole educational effect of the rapid capitalist development and of social democratic influences first shows itself upon the widest sections of the people, of which, in peaceful times the tables of the organised, and even election statistics, give only a faint idea.

We have seen that in Russia, in about two years a great general action of the proletariat can forthwith arise from the smallest partial conflict of the workers with the employers, from the most insignificant act of brutality of the government organs. Everyone, of course, sees and believes that, because in Russia “the revolution” is there. But what does that mean ? It means that class feeling, the class instinct, is alive and very active in the Russian proletariat, so that immediately they regard every partial question of any small group of workers as a general question, as a class affair, and quick as lightening they react to its influence as a unity. While in Germany, France, Italy and Holland the most violent trade-union conflicts call forth hardly any general action of the working class – and when they do, only the organised part of the workers move – in Russia the smallest dispute raises a storm. That means nothing else however, than that at present – paradoxical as it may sound – the class instinct of the youngest, least trained, badly educated and still worse organised Russian proletariat is immeasurably stronger than that of the organised, trained and enlightened working class of Germany or of any other west European country. And that is not to be reckoned a special virtue of the “young, unexhausted East” as compared with the “sluggish West,” but is simply a result of direct revolutionary mass action.

In the case of the enlightened German worker the class consciousness implanted by the social democrats is theoretical and latent : in the period ruled by bourgeois parliamentarism it cannot, as a rule, actively participate in a direct mass action ; it is the ideal sum of the four hundred parallel actions of the electoral sphere during the election struggle, of the many partial economic strikes and the like. In the revolution when the masses themselves appear upon the political battlefield this class-consciousness becomes practical and active. A year of revolution has therefore given the Russian proletariat that “training” which thirty years of parliamentary and trade-union struggle cannot artificially give to the German proletariat. Of course, this living, active class feeling of the proletariat will considerably diminish in intensity, or rather change into a concealed and latent condition, after the close of the period of revolution and the erection of a bourgeois-parliamentary constitutional state.

And just as surely, on the other hand, will the living revolutionary class feeling, capable of action, affect the widest and deepest layers of the proletariat in Germany in a period of strong political engagement, and that the more rapidly and more deeply, more energetically the educational work of social democracy is carried on amongst them. This educational work and the provocative and revolutionising effect of the whole present policy of Germany will express itself in the circumstances that all those groups which at present in their apparent political stupidity remain insensitive to all the organising attempts of the social democrats and of the trade unions will suddenly follow the flag of social democracy in a serious revolutionary period. Six months of a revolutionary period will complete the work of the training of these as yet unorganised masses which ten years of public demonstrations and distribution of leaflets would be unable to do. And when conditions in Germany have reached the critical stage for such a period, the sections which are today unorganised and backward will, in the struggle, prove themselves the most radical, the most impetuous element, and not one that will have to be dragged along. If it should come to mass strikes in Germany it will almost certainly not be the best organised workers – and most certainly not the printers – who will develop the greatest capacity for action, but the worst organised or totally unorganised – the miners, the textile workers, and perhaps even the land workers.

In this way we arrive at the same conclusions in Germany in relation to the peculiar tasks of direction in relation to the role of social democracy in mass strikes, as in our analysis of events in Russia. If we now leave the pedantic scheme of demonstrative mass strikes artificially brought about by order of parties and trade unions, and turn to the living picture of a peoples' movement arising with elementary energy, from the culmination of class antagonisms and the political situation – a movement which passes, politically as well as economically, into mass struggles and mass strikes – it becomes obvious that the task of social democracy does not consist in the technical preparation and direction of mass strikes, but, first and foremost, in the political leadership of the whole movement.

The social democrats are the most enlightened, most class-conscious vanguard of the proletariat. They cannot and dare not wait, in a fatalist fashion, with folded arms for the advent of the “revolutionary situation,” to wait for that which in every spontaneous peoples' movement, falls from the clouds. On the contrary, they must now, as always, hasten the development of things and endeavour to accelerate events. This they cannot do, however, by suddenly issuing the “slogan” for a mass strike at random at any odd moment, but first and foremost, by making clear to the widest layers of the proletariat the inevitable advent of this revolutionary period, the inner social factors making for it and the political consequences of it. If the widest proletarian layer should be won for a political mass action of the social democrats, and if, vice versa, the social democrats should seize and maintain the real leadership of a mass movement – should they become, in a political sense, the rulers of the whole movement, then they must, with the utmost clearness, consistency and resoluteness, inform the German proletariat of their tactics and aims in the period of coming struggle.

VII. The Role of the Mass Strike in the Revolution

We have seen that the mass strike in Russia does not represent an artificial product of premeditated tactics on the part of the social democrats, but a natural historical phenomenon on the basis of the present revolution. Now what are the factors which in Russia have brought forth this new phenomenal form of the revolution ?

The Russian revolution has for first task the abolition of absolutism and the establishment of a modern bourgeois-parliamentary constitutional state. It is exactly the same in form as that which confronted Germany in the March 1848 Revolution, and the Great French Revolution of the end of the eighteenth century. But the condition, the historical milieu, in which these formally analogous revolutions took place, are fundamentally different from those of present-day Russia. The essential difference is that between those bourgeois revolutions in the West, and the current bourgeois revolution in the East, the whole cycle of capitalist development has run its course. And this development had seized not only the West European countries, but also absolutist Russia. Large-scale industry with all its consequences – modern class divisions, acute social contrasts, modern life in large cities and the modern proletariat – has become in Russia the prevailing form, that is, in social development the decisive form of production.

The remarkable, contradictory, historical situation results from this that the bourgeois revolution, in accordance with its formal tasks will, in the first place, be carried out by a modern class-conscious proletariat, and in an international milieu whose distinguishing characteristic is the ruin of bourgeois democracy. It is not the bourgeoisie that is now the driving force of revolution as in the earlier revolutions of the West, while the proletarian masses, swamped amidst a petty-bourgeois mass, simply furnish cannon-fodder for the bourgeoisie, but on the contrary, it is the class-conscious proletariat that is the active and leading element, while the big bourgeois turns out to be either openly against the revolution or liberal moderates, and only the rural petit-bourgeoisie and the urban petit-bourgeois intelligentsia are definitively oppositional and even revolutionary minded.

The Russian proletariat, however, who are destined to play the leading part in the bourgeois revolution, enter the fight free from all illusions of bourgeois democracy, with a strongly developed consciousness of their own specific class interests, and at a time when the antagonism between capital and labour has reached its height. This contradictory situation finds expression in the fact that in this formally bourgeois revolution, the antagonism of bourgeois society to absolutism is governed by the antagonism of the proletariat to bourgeois society, that the struggle of the proletariat to bourgeois society is directed simultaneously and with equal energy against both absolutism and capitalist exploitation, and that the programme of the revolutionary struggle concentrates with equal emphasis on political freedom, the winning of the eight-hour day, and a human standard of material existence for the proletariat. This two-fold character of the Russian Revolution is expressed in that close union of the economic with the political struggle and in their mutual interaction which we have seen is a feature of the Russian events and which finds its appropriate expression in the mass strike.

In the earlier bourgeois revolution where, on the one hand, the political training and the leadership of the revolutionary masses were undertaken by the bourgeois parties, and where, on the other hand, it was merely a question of overthrowing the old government, the brief battle at the barricades was the appropriate form of the revolutionary struggle. Today the working class must educate itself, marshal its forces, and direct itself in the course of the revolutionary struggle and thus the revolution is directed as much against capitalist exploitation as against the ancien regime ; so much so that the mass strike appears as the natural means to recruit, organize and prepare the widest proletarian layers for revolutionary struggle, as the means to undermine and overthrow the old state power, as well as to contain the capitalist exploitation. The urban industrial proletariat is now the soul of the revolution in Russia. But in order to carry through a direct political struggle as a mass, the proletariat must first be assembled as a mass, and for this purpose they must come out of the factory and workshop, mine and foundry, must overcome the atomisation and decay to which they are condemned under the daily yoke of capitalism.

The mass strike is the first natural, impulsive form of every great revolutionary struggle of the proletariat and the more highly developed the antagonism is between capital and labour, the more effective and decisive must mass strikes become. The chief form of previous bourgeois revolutions, the fight at the barricades, the open conflict with the armed power of the state, is in the revolution today only the culminating point, only a moment on the process of the proletarian mass struggle. And therewith in the new form of the revolution there is reached that civilising and mitigating of the class struggle which was prophesied by the opportunists of German social democracy – the Bernsteins, Davids, etc. It is true that these men saw the desired civilising and mitigating of the class struggle in the light of petty bourgeois democratic illusions – they believed that the class struggle would shrink to an exclusively parliamentary contest and that street fighting would simply be done away with. History has found the solution in a deeper and finer fashion : in the advent of revolutionary mass strikes, which, of course, in no way replaces brutal street fights or renders them unnecessary, but which reduces them to a moment in the long period of political struggle, and which at the same time unites with the revolutionary period and enormous cultural work in the most exact sense of the words : the material and intellectual elevation of the whole working class through the “civilising” of the barbaric forms of capitalist exploitation.

The mass strike is thus shown to be not a specifically Russian product, springing from absolutism, but a universal form of the proletarian class struggle resulting from the present stage of capitalist development and class relations. From this standpoint the three bourgeois revolutions – the Great French Revolution, the German Revolution of March, and the present Russian Revolution – form a continuous chain of development in which the fortunes and the end of the capitalist century are to be seen. In the Great French Revolution the still wholly underdeveloped internal contradictions of bourgeois society gave scope for a long period of violent struggles, in which all the antagonisms which first germinated and ripened in the heat of the revolution raged unhindered and unrestrained in a spirit of reckless radicalism. A century later the revolution of the German bourgeoisie, which broke out midway in the development of capitalism, was already hampered on both sides by the antagonism of interests and the equilibrium of strength between capital and labour, and was smothered in a bourgeois-feudal compromise, and shortened to a miserable episode ending in words.

Another half century, and the present Russian Revolution stands at a point of the historical path which is already over the summit, which is on the other side of the culminating point of capitalist society, at which the bourgeois revolutions cannot again be smothered by the antagonism between bourgeoisie and proletariat, but, will, on the contrary, expand into a new lengthy period of violent social struggles, at which the balancing of the account with absolutism appears a trifle in comparison with the many new accounts which the revolution itself opens up. The present revolution realises in the particular affairs of absolutist Russia the general results of international capitalist development, and appears not so much as the last successor of the old bourgeois revolutions as the forerunner of the new series of proletarian revolutions of the West. The most backward country of all, just because it has been so unpardonably late with its bourgeois revolution, shows ways and methods of further class struggle to the proletariat of Germany and the most advanced capitalist countries.

Accordingly it appears, when looked at in this way, to be entirely wrong to regard the Russian Revolution as a grandiose spectacle, as something specifically “Russian,” and at best to admire the heroism of the fighting men, that is, as outside onlookers of the struggle. It is much more important that the German workers should learn to look upon the Russian Revolution as their own affair, not merely as a matter of international solidarity with the Russian proletariat, but first and foremost, as a chapter of their own social and political history. Those trade-union leaders and parliamentarians who regard the German proletariat as “too weak” and German conditions “as not ripe enough” for revolutionary mass struggles, have obviously not the least idea that the measure of the degree of ripeness of class relations in Germany and of the power of the proletariat does not lie in the statistics of German trade unionism or in election figures, but – in the events of the Russian Revolution. Exactly as the ripeness of French class antagonisms under the July monarchy and the June battle of Paris was reflected in the German March Revolution, in its course and its fiasco, so today the ripeness of German class antagonisms is reflected in the events and in the power of the Russian Revolution. And while the bureaucrats of the German labour movement rummage in their office drawers for information as to their strength and maturity, they do not see that that for which they seek is lying before their eyes in a great historical revolution, because, historically considered, the Russian Revolution is a reflex of the power and the maturity of the international, and therefore in the first place, of the German labour movement.

It would therefore be a too pitiable and grotesquely insignificant result of the Russian Revolution if the German proletariat should merely draw from it the lesson – as is desired by Comrades Frohme, Elm, and others – of using the extreme form of the struggle, the mass strike, and so weaken themselves as to be merely a reserve force in the event of the withdrawal of the parliamentary vote, and therefore a passive means of parliamentary defensive. When the parliamentary vote is taken from us there we will resist. That is a self-evident decision. But for this it is not necessary to adopt the heroic pose of a Danton as was done, for example, by Comrade Elm in Jena ; because the defence of the modest measure of parliamentary right already possessed is less a Heaven-storming innovation, for which the frightful hecatombs of the Russian Revolution were first necessary as a means of encouragement, than the simplest and first duty of every opposition party. But the mere defensive can never exhaust the policy of the proletariat, in a period of revolution. And if it is, on the one hand, difficult to predict with any degree of certainty whether the destruction of universal suffrage would cause a situation in Germany which would call forth an immediate mass strike action, so on the other hand, it is absolutely certain that when we in Germany enter upon the period of stormy mass actions, it will be impossible for the social democrats to base their tactics upon a mere parliamentary defensive.

To fix beforehand the cause and the moment from and in which the mass strikes in Germany will break out is not in the power of social democracy, because it is not in its power to bring about historical situations by resolutions at party congresses. But what it can and must do is to make clear the political tendencies, when they once appear, and to formulate them as resolute and consistent tactics. Man cannot keep historical events in check while making recipes for them, but he can see in advance their apparent calculable consequences and arrange his mode of action accordingly.

The first threatening political danger with which the German proletariat have concerned themselves for a number of years is a coup d'état of the reaction which will wrest from the wide masses of the people of the most important political right – universal suffrage. In spite of the immense importance of this possible event, it is, as we have already said, impossible to assert with certainty that an open popular movement would immediately break out after the coup d'état, because today innumerable circumstances and factors have to be taken into account. But when we consider the present extreme acuteness of conditions in Germany, and on the other hand, the manifold international reactions of the Russian Revolution and of the future rejuvenated Russia, it is clear that the collapse of German politics which would ensue from the repeal of universal suffrage could not alone call a halt to the struggle for this right. This coup d'état would rather draw after it, in a longer or shorter period and with elementary power, a great general political reckoning of the insurgent and awakened mass of the people – a reckoning with bread usury, with artificially caused dearness of meat, with expenditure on a boundless militarism and “navalism,” with the corruption of colonial policy, with the national disgrace of the Konigsberg trial, with the cessation of social reform, with the discharging of railway workers, the postal officials and the land workers, with the tricking and mocking of the miners, with the judgement of Lobtau and the whole system of class justice, with the brutal lockout system – in short, with the whole thirty-year-old oppression of the combined dominion of Junkerdom and large trustified capital.

But if once the ball is set rolling then social democracy, whether it wills it or not, can never again bring it to a standstill. The opponents of the mass strike are in the habit of denying that the lessons and examples of the Russian Revolution can be a criterion for Germany because, in the first place, in Russia the great step must first be taken from an Oriental despotism to a modern bourgeois legal order. The formal distance between the old and the new political order is said to be a sufficient explanation of the vehemence and the violence of the revolution in Russia. In Germany we have long had the most necessary forms and guarantees of a constitutional state, from which it follows that such an elementary raging of social antagonisms is impossible here.

Those who speculate thus forget that in Germany when it once comes to the outbreak of open political struggles, even the historically determined goal will be quite different from that in Russia today. Precisely because the bourgeois legal order in Germany has existed for a long time, because therefore it has had time to completely exhaust itself and to draw to an end, because bourgeois democracy and liberalism have had time to die out – because of this there can no longer be any talk of a bourgeois revolution in Germany. And therefore in a period of open political popular struggles in Germany, the last historically necessary goal can only be the dictatorship of the proletariat. The distance, however, of this task from the present conditions of Germany is still greater than that of the bourgeois legal order from Oriental despotism, and therefore, the task cannot be completed at one stroke, but must similarly be accomplished during a long period of gigantic social struggles.

But is there not a gross contradiction in the picture we have drawn ? On the one hand it means that in an eventual future period of political mass action the most backward layers of the German proletariat – the land workers, the railwaymen, and the postal slaves – will first of all win the right of combination, and that the worst excrescences of exploitation must first be removed and on the other hand, the political task of this period is said to be the conquest of power by the proletariat ! On the one hand, economic, trade-union struggles for the most immediate interests, for the material elevation of the working class ; on the other hand the ultimate goal of social democracy ! Certainly these are great contradictions, but they are not contradictions due to our reasoning, but contradictions due to capitalist development. It does not proceed in a beautiful straight line but in a lightning-like zig-zag. Just as the various capitalist countries represent the most varied stages of development, so within each country the different layers of the same working class are represented. But history does not wait patiently till the backward countries, and the most advanced layers have joined together so that the whole mass can move symmetrically forward like a compact column. It brings the best prepared parts to explosion as soon as conditions there are ripe for it, and then in the storm of the revolutionary period, lost ground is recovered, unequal things are equalised, and the whole pace of social progress changed at one stroke to the double-quick.

Just as in the Russian Revolution all the grades of development and all the interests of the different layers of workers are united in the social democratic programme of the revolution, and the innumerable partial struggles united in the great common class action of the proletariat, so will it also be in Germany when the conditions are ripe for it. And the task of social democracy will then be to regulate its tactics, not by the most backward phases of development but by the most advanced.

VIII. Need for United Action of Trade Unions and Social Democracy

The most important desideratum which is to be hoped for from the German working class in the period of great struggles which will come sooner or later is, after complete resoluteness and consistency of tactics, the utmost capacity for action, and therefore the utmost possible unity of the leading social democratic part of the proletarian masses. Meanwhile the first weak attempts at the preparation of great mass actions have discovered a serious drawback in this connection : the total separation and independence of the two organisations of the labour movement, the social democracy and the trade unions.

It is clear on a closer consideration of the mass strikes in Russia as well as of the conditions in Germany itself, that any great mass action, if it is not confined to a mere one-day demonstration, but is intended to be a real fighting action, cannot possibly be thought of as a so-called political mass strike. In such an action in Germany the trade-unions would be implicated as much as the social democrats. Not because the trade-union leaders imagine that the social democrats, in view of their smaller organisation, would have no other resources than the co-operation of one and a quarter million trade-unionists and without them would be unable to do anything, but because of a much more deep-lying motive : because every direct mass action of the period of open class struggles would be at the same time both political and economic. If in Germany, from any cause and at any time, it should come to great political struggles, to mass strikes, then at that time an era of violent trade-union struggles would begin in Germany, and events would not stop to inquire whether the trade-union leaders had given their consent to the movement or not. Whether they stand aside or endeavour to resist the movement, the result of their attitude will only be that the trade-union leaders, like the party leaders in the analogous case, will simply be swept aside by the rush of events, and the economic and the political struggles of the masses will be fought out without them.

As a matter-of-fact the separation of the political, and the economic struggle and the independence of each, is nothing but an artificial product of the parliamentarian period, even if historically determined. On the one hand in the peaceful, “normal” course of bourgeois society, the economic struggle is split into a multitude of individual struggles in every undertaking and dissolved in every branch of production. On the other hand the political struggle is not directed by the masses themselves in a direct action, but in correspondence with the form of the bourgeois state, in a representative fashion, by the presence of legislative representation. As soon as a period of revolutionary struggle commences, that is, as soon as the masses appear on the scene of conflict, the breaking up the economic struggle into many parts, as well as the indirect parliamentary form of the political struggle ceases ; in a revolutionary mass action the political struggle ceases ; in a revolutionary mass action the political and economic struggle are one, and the artificial boundary between trade union and social democracy as two separate, wholly independent forms of the labour movement, is simply swept away. But what finds concrete expression in the revolutionary mass movement finds expression also in the parliamentary period as an actual state of affairs. There are not two different class struggles of the working class, an economic and a political one, but only one class struggle, which aims at one and the same time at the limitation of capitalist exploitation within bourgeois society, and at the abolition of exploitation together with bourgeois society itself.

When these two sides of the class struggle are separated from one another for technical reasons in the parliamentary period, they do not form two parallel concurrent actions, but merely two phases, two stages of the struggle for emancipation of the working class. The trade-union struggle embraces the immediate interests, and the social democratic struggle the future interests, of the labour movement. The communists, says the Communist Manifesto, represent, as against various group interests of the proletariat as a whole, and in the various stages of development of the class struggle, they represent the interests of the whole movement, that is, the ultimate goal – the liberation of the proletariat. The trade unions represent only the group interests and only one stage of development of the labour movement. Social democracy represents the working class and the cause of its liberation as a whole. The relation of the trade unions to social democracy is therefore a part of the whole, and when, amongst the trade-union leaders, the theory of “equal authority” of trade-unions and social democracy finds so much favour, it rests upon a fundamental misconception of the essence of trade-unionism itself and of its role in the general struggle for freedom of the working class.

This theory of the parallel action of social democracy and the trade-unions and of their “equal authority” is nevertheless not altogether without foundation, but has its historical roots. It rests upon the illusion of the peaceful, “normal” period of bourgeois society, in which the political struggle of social democracy appears to be consumed in the parliamentary struggle. The parliamentary struggle, however, the counterpart of the trade-union struggle, is equally with it, a fight conducted exclusively on the on the basis of the bourgeois social order. It is by its very nature, political reform work, as that of the trade-unions is economic reform work. It represents political work for the present, as trade-unions represent economic work for the present. It is, like them, merely a phase, a stage of development in the complete process of the proletarian class struggle whose ultimate goal is as far beyond the parliamentary struggle as it is beyond the trade-union struggle. The parliamentary struggle is, in relation to social democratic policy, also a part of the whole, exactly as trade-union work is. Social democracy today comprises the parliamentary and the trade-union struggle in one class struggle aiming at the abolition of the bourgeois social order.

The theory of the “equal authority” of trade-unions and social democracy is likewise not a mere theoretical misunderstanding, not a mere case of confusion but an expression of the well-known tendency of that opportunist wing of social democracy which reduced the political struggle of the working class to the parliamentary contest, and desires to change social democracy from a revolutionary proletarian party into a petty-bourgeois reform one.[1] If social democracy should accept the theory of the “equal authority” of the trade-unions, it would thereby accept, indirectly and tacitly, that transformation which has long been striven for by the representatives of the opportunist tendency.

In Germany, however, there is such a shifting of relations within the labour movement as is impossible in any other country. The theoretical conception, according to which the trade-unions are merely a part of social democracy, finds its classic expression in Germany in fact, in actual practice, and that in three directions. First, the German trade-unions are a direct product of social democracy ; it was social democracy which created the beginnings of the present trade-union movement in Germany and which enabled it to attain such great dimensions, and it is social democracy which supplies it to this day with its leaders and the most active promoters of its organisation.

Second, the German trade-unions are a product of social democracy also in the sense that social democratic teaching in the soul of trade-union practice, as the trade-unions owe their superiority over all bourgeois and denominational trade-unions to the idea of the class struggle ; their practical success, their power, is a result of the circumstance that their practice is illuminated by the theory of scientific socialism and they are thereby raised above the level of a narrow-minded socialism. The strength of the “practical policy” of the German trade-unions lies in their insight into the deeper social and economic connections of the capitalist system ; but they owe this insight entirely to the theory of scientific socialism upon which their practice is based. Viewed in this way, any attempt to emancipate the trade-unions from the social democratic theory in favour of some other “trade-union theory” opposed to social democracy, is, from the standpoint of the trade-unions themselves and of their future, nothing but an attempt to commit suicide. The separation of trade-union practice from the theory of scientific socialism would mean to the German trade-unions the immediate loss of all their superiority over all kinds of bourgeois trade-unions, and their fall from their present height to the level of unsteady groping and mere dull empiricism.

Thirdly and finally, the trade-unions are, although their leaders have gradually lost sight of the fact, even as regards their numerical strength, a direct product of the social democratic movement and the social democratic agitation. It is true that in many districts trade-union agitation precedes social democratic agitation, and that everywhere trade-union work prepares the way for party work. From the point of view of effect, party and trade-unions assist each other to the fullest extent. But when the picture of the class struggle in Germany is looked at as a whole and its more deep-seated associations, the proportions are considerably altered. Many trade-union leaders are in the habit of looking down triumphantly from the proud height of their membership of one and a quarter million on the miserable organised members of the Social Democratic Party, not yet half a million strong, and of recalling the time, ten or twelve years ago, when those in the ranks of social democracy were pessimistic as to the prospects of trade-union development.

They do see that between these two things – the large number of organised trade unionists and the small number of organised Social Democrats – there exists in a certain degree a direct causal connection. Thousands and thousands of workers do not join the party organisations precisely because they join the trade-unions. According to the theory, all the workers must be doubly organised, must attend two kinds of meetings, pay double contributions, read two kinds of workers' papers, etc. But for this it is necessary to have a higher standard of intelligence and of that idealism which, from a pure feeling of duty to the labour movement, is prepared for the daily sacrifice of time and money, and finally, a higher standard of that passionate interest in the actual life of the party which can only be engendered by membership of the party organisation. All this is true of the most enlightened and intelligent minority of social democratic workers in the large towns, where party life is full and attractive and where the workers' standard of living is high. Amongst the wider sections of the working masses in the large towns, however, as well as in the provinces, in the smaller and the smallest towns where political life is not an independent thing but a mere reflex of the course of events in the capital, where consequently, party life is poor and monotonous, and where, finally, the economic standard of life of the workers is, for the most part, miserable, it is very difficult to secure the double form of organisation.

For the social democratically-minded worker from the masses the question will be solved by his joining his trade-union. The immediate interests of his economic struggle which are conditioned by the nature of the struggle itself cannot be advanced in any other way than by membership of a trade-union organisation. The contribution which he pays, often amidst considerable sacrifice of his standard of living, bring him immediate, visible results. His social democratic inclinations, however, enable him to participate in various kinds of work without belonging to a special party organisation ; by voting at parliamentary elections, by attendance at social democratic public meetings, by following the reports of social democratic speeches in representatives bodies, and by reading the party press. Compare in this connection the number of social democratic electors or the number of subscribers to Vorwärts with the number of organised party members in Berlin !

And what is most decisive, the social democratically-minded average worker who, as a simple man, can have no understanding of the intricate and fine so-called two-soul theory, feels that he is, even in the trade union, social democratically organised. Although the central committees of the unions have no official party label, the workman from the masses in every city and town sees the head of his trade-union as the most active leader, those colleagues whom he knows also as comrades and social democrats in public life, now as Reichstag, Landstag or local representatives, now as trusted men of the social democracy, members of election committees, party editors and secretaries, or merely as speakers and agitators. Further, he hears expressed in the agitational work of his trade-union much the same ideas, pleasing and intelligible to him, of capitalist exploitation, class relations, etc., as those that have come to him from social democratic agitation. Indeed, the most and best loved of the speakers at trade-union meetings are those same social democrats.

Thus everything combines to give the average class-conscious worker the feeling that he, in being organised in his trade-union, is also a member of his labour party and is social democratically organised, and therein lies the peculiar recruiting strength of the German trade-unions. Not because of the appearance of neutrality, but because of the social democratic reality of their being, have the central unions being enabled to attain their present strength. This is simply through the co-existence of the various unions – Catholic, Hirsch-Dunker, etc. – founded by bourgeois parties by which it was sought to establish the necessity for that political “neutrality.” When the German worker who has full freedom of choice to attach himself to a Christian, Catholic, Evangelical or Free-thinking trade-union, chooses none of these but the “free trade-union” instead, or leaves one of the former to join the latter, he does so only because he considers that the central unions are the avowed organisations of the modern class struggle, or, what is the same thing in Germany, that they are social democratic trade-unions.

In a word the appearance of “neutrality,” which exists in the minds of many trade-union leaders, does not exist for the mass of organised trade-unionists. And that is the good fortune of the trade-union movement. If the appearance of “neutrality” that alienation and separation of the trade-unions from social democracy, really and truly becomes a reality in the eyes of the proletarian masses, then the trade-unions would immediately lose all their advantages over competing bourgeois unions, and therewith their recruiting power, their living fire. This is conclusively proved by the facts which are generally known. The appearance of party-political “neutrality” of the trade-unions could, as a means of attraction, render inestimable service in a country in which social democracy itself has no credit among the masses, in which its odium as a workers' organisation injures it in the eyes of the masses rather than advantages it – where, in a word, the trade-unions must first of all recruit their troops from a wholly unenlightened, bourgeois-minded mass.

The best example of such a country was, throughout the whole of the last century, and is to a certain extent today, Great Britain. In Germany, however, party relations are altogether different. In a country, in which social democracy is the most powerful political party, in which its recruiting power is represented by an army of over three million proletarians, it is ridiculous to speak of the deterrent effect of social democracy and of the necessity for a fighting organisation of the workers to ensure political neutrality. The mere comparison of the figures of social democratic voters with the figures of the trade-union organisations in Germany is sufficient to prove to the most simple-minded that the trade-unions in Germany do not, as in England, draw their troops from the unenlightened bourgeois-minded mass, but from the mass of proletarians already aroused by the social democracy and won by it to the idea of the class struggle. Many trade-union leaders indignantly reject the idea – a requisite of the “theory of neutrality” – and regard the trade-unions as a recruiting school for social democracy. This apparently insulting, but in reality, highly flattering presumption is in Germany reduced to mere fancy by the circumstance that the positions are reversed ; it is the social democracy which is the recruiting school for the trade-unions.

Moreover, if the organisational work of the trade-unions is for the most part of a very difficult and troublesome kind, it is, with the exception of a few cases and some districts, not merely because on the whole, the soil has not been prepared by the social democratic plough, but also because the trade-union seed itself, and the sower as well, must also be “red,” social democratic before the harvest can prosper. But when we compare in this way the figures of trade-union strength, not with those of the social democratic organisations, but – which is the only correct way – with those of the mass of social democratic voters, we come to a conclusion which differs considerably from the current view of the matter. The fact then comes to light that the “free trade-unions” actually represent today but a minority of the class-conscious workers of Germany, that even with their one and a quarter million organised members they have not yet been able to draw into their ranks one-half of those already aroused by social democracy.

The most important conclusion to be drawn from the facts above cited is that the complete unity of the trade-union and the social democratic movements, which is absolutely necessary for the coming mass struggles in Germany, is actually here, and that it is incorporated in the wide mass which forms the basis at once of social democracy and trade-unionism, and in whole consciousness both parts of the movement are mingled in a mental unity. The alleged antagonism between Social Democracy and trade unions shrinks to an antagonism between Social Democracy and a certain part of the trade-union officials, which is, however, at the same time an antagonism within the trade unions between this part of the trade-union leaders and the proletarian mass organized in trade unions.

The rapid growth of trade-union movement in Germany in the course of the last fifteen years, especially in the period of great economic prosperity from 1895 to 1900 has brought with it a great independence of the trade-unions, a specialising of their methods of struggle, and finally the introduction of a regular trade-union officialdom. All these phenomena are quite understandable and natural historical products of the growth of the trade-unions in this fifteen-year period, and of the economic prosperity and political calm of Germany. They are, although inseparable from certain drawbacks, without doubt a historically necessary evil. But the dialectics of development also brings with it the circumstance that these necessary means of promoting trade-union growth become, on the contrary, obstacles to this further development at a certain stage of organisation and at a certain degree of ripeness of conditions.

The specialisation of professional activity as trade-union leaders, as well as the naturally restricted horizon which is bound up with disconnected economic struggles in a peaceful period, leads only too easily, amongst trade-union officials, to bureaucratism and a certain narrowness of outlook. Both, however, express themselves in a whole series of tendencies which may be fateful in the highest degree for the future of the trade-union movement. There is first of all the overvaluation of the organisation, which from a means has gradually been changed into an end in itself, a precious thing, to which the interests of the struggles should be subordinated. From this also comes that openly admitted need for peace which shrinks from great risks and presumed dangers to the stability of the trade-unions, and further, the overvaluation of the trade-union method of struggle itself, its prospects and its successes.

The trade-union leaders, constantly absorbed in the economic guerrilla war whose plausible task it is to make the workers place the highest value on the smallest economic achievement, every increase in wages and shortening of the working day, gradually lose the power of seeing the larger connections and of taking a survey of the whole position. Only in this way can one explain why many trade-union leaders refer with the greatest satisfaction to the achievements of the last fifteen years, instead of, on the contrary, emphasising the other side of the medal ; the simultaneous and immense reduction of the proletarian standard of life by land usury, by the whole tax and customs policy, by landlord rapacity which has increased house rents to such an exorbitant extent, in short, by all the objective tendencies of bourgeois policy which have largely neutralised the advantages of the fifteen years of trade-union struggle. From the whole social democratic truth which, while emphasising the importance of the present work and its absolute necessity, attaches the chief importance to the criticism and the limits to this work, the half trade-union truth is taken which emphasises only the positive side of the daily struggle.

And finally, from the concealment of the objective limits drawn by the bourgeois social order to the trade-union struggle, there arises a hostility to every theoretical criticism which refers to these limits in connection with the ultimate aims of the labour movement. Fulsome flattery and boundless optimism are considered to be the duty of every “friend of the trade-union movement.” But as the social democratic standpoint consists precisely in fighting against uncritical parliamentary optimism, a front is at last made against the social democratic theory : men grope for a “new trade-union theory,” that is, a theory which would open an illimitable vista of economic progress to the trade-union struggle within the capitalist system, in opposition to the social democratic doctrine. Such a theory has indeed existed for some time – the theory of Professor Sombart which was promulgated with the express intention of driving a wedge between the trade-unions and the social democracy in Germany, and of enticing the trade-unions over to the bourgeois position.

In close connection with these theoretical tendencies is a revolution of leaders and rank-and-file. In place of the direction by colleagues through local committees, with their admitted inadequacy, there appears the business-like direction of the trade-union officials. The initiative and the power of making decisions thereby devolve upon trade-union specialists, so to speak, and the more passive virtue of discipline upon the mass of members. This dark side of officialdom also assuredly conceals considerable dangers for the party, as from the latest innovation, the institution of local party secretaries, it can quite easily result, if the social democratic mass is not careful that these secretariats may remain mere organs for carrying out decisions and not be regarded in any way the appointed bearers of the initiative and of the direction of local party life. But by the nature of the case, by the character of the political struggle, there are narrow bounds drawn to bureaucratism in social democracy as in trade-union life.

But here the technical specialising of wage struggles as, for example, the conclusion of intricate tariff agreements and for the like, frequently means that the mass of organised workers are prohibited from taking a “survey of the whole industrial life,” and their incapacity for taking decisions is thereby established. A consequence of this conception is the argument with which every theoretical criticism of the prospects and possibilities of trade-union practice is tabooed and which alleges that it represents a danger to the pious trade-union sentiment of the masses. From this, a point of view has been developed, that it is only by blind, child-like faith in the efficacy of the trade-union struggle that the working masses can be won and held for the organisation. In contradistinction to social democracy which bases its influence on the unity of the masses amidst the contradictions of the existing order and in the complicated character of its development, and on the critical attitude of the masses to all factors and stages of their own class struggle, the influence and the power of the trade-unions are founded upon the upside-down theory of the incapacity of the masses for criticism and decision. “The faith of the people must be maintained” – that is the fundamental principle, acting upon which many trade-union officials stamp as attempts on the life of this movement, all criticisms of the objective inadequacy of trade-unionism.

And finally, a result of all this specialisation and this bureaucratism amongst trade-union officials is the great independence and the “neutrality” of the trade-unions in relation to social democracy. The extreme independence of the trade-union organisation is a natural result of its growth, as a relation which has grown out of the technical division of work between the political and the trade-union forms of struggle. The “neutrality” of the German trade-unions, on its part, arose as a product of the reactionary trade-union legislation of the Prusso-German police state. With time, both aspects of their nature have altered. From the condition of political “neutrality” of the trade-unions imposed by the police, a theory of their voluntary neutrality has been evolved as a necessity founded upon the alleged nature of the trade-union struggle itself. And the technical independence of the trade-unions which should rest upon the division of work in the unified social democratic class struggle, the separation of the trade-unions from social democracy, from its views and its leadership, has been changed into the so-called equal authority of trade-unions and social democracy.

The appearance of separation and equality of trade-unions and social democracy is, however, incorporated chiefly in the trade-union officials, and strengthened through the managing apparatus of the trade-unions. Outwardly, by the co-existence of a complete staff of trade-union officials, of a wholly independent central committee, of numerous professional press, and finally of a trade-union congress, the illusion is created of an exact parallel with the managing apparatus of the social democracy, the party executive, the party press and the party conference. This illusion of equality between social democracy and the trade-union had led to, amongst other things, the monstrous spectacle that, in part, quite analogous agendas are discussed at social democratic conferences and trade-union congresses, and that on the same questions different, and even diametrically opposite, decisions are taken. From the natural division of work between the party conference (which represents the general interests ans tasks of the labour movement), and the trade-union congress (which deals with the much narrower sphere of social questions and interests) the artificial division has been made of a pretended trade-union and a social democratic outlook in relation to the same general questions and interests of the labour movement.

Thus the peculiar position has arisen that this same trade-union movement which below, in the wide proletarian masses, is absolutely one with social democracy, parts abruptly from it above, in the super-structure of management, and sets itself up as an independent great power. The German labour movement therefore assumes the peculiar form of a double pyramid whose base and body consist of one solid mass but whose apexes are wide apart.

It is clear from this presentation of the case in what way alone in a natural and successful manner that compact unity of the German labour movement can be attained which, in view of the coming political class struggles and of the peculiar interests of the further development of the trade-unions, is indispensably necessary. Nothing could be more perverse or more hopeless than to desire to attain the unity desired by means of sporadic and periodical negotiations on individual questions affecting the labour movement between the Social Democratic Party leadership the trade-union central committees. It is just the highest circles of both forms of the labour movement, which as we have seen, incorporate their separation and self-sufficiency, which are themselves, therefore, the promoters of the illusion of the “equal authority” and of the parallel existence of social democracy and trade-unionism.

To desire the unity of these through the union of the party executive and the general commission is to desire to build a bridge at the very spot where the distance is greater and the crossing more difficult. Not above, amongst the heads of the leading directing organisations and in their federative alliance, but below, amongst the organised proletarian masses, lies the guarantee of the real unity of the labour movement. In the consciousness of the million trade-unionists, the party and the trade unions are actually one, they represent in different forms the social democratic struggle for the emancipation of the proletariat. And the necessity automatically arises therefrom of removing any causes of friction which have arisen between the social democracy and a part of the trade unions, of adapting their mutual relation to the consciousness of the proletarian masses, that is, of re-joining the trade-unions to social democracy. The synthesis of the real development which led from the original incorporation of the trade-unions to their separation from social democracy will thereby be expressed, and the way will be peppered for the coming period of great proletarian mass struggles during the period of vigorous growth, of both trade-unions and social democracy and their reunion, in the interests of both, will become a necessity.

It is not, of course, a question of the merging of the trade-union organisation in the party, but of the restoration of the unity of social democracy and the trade-unions which corresponds to the actual relation between the labour movement as a whole and its partial trade-union expression. Such a revolution will inevitably call forth a vigorous opposition from a part of the trade-union leadership. But it is high time for the working masses of social democracy to learn how to express their capacity for decision and action, and therewith to demonstrate their ripeness for that time of great struggles and great tasks in which they, the masses, will be the actual chorus and the directing bodies will merely act the “speaking parts,” that is, will only be the interpreters of the will of the masses.

The trade-union movement is not that which is reflected in the quite understandable but irrational illusion of a minority of the trade-union leaders, but that which lives in the consciousness of the mass of proletarians who have been won for the class struggle. In this consciousness the trade-union movement is part of social democracy. “And what it is, that should it dare to appear.”
Footnote

[1] As the existence of such a tendency within German social democracy is generally denied, one must be grateful for the candour with which the opportunist trend has recently formulated its real aims and wishes. At a party meeting in Mayence on September 10, 1909, the following revolution, proposed by Dr. David, was carried.

“Whereas the Social Democratic Party interprets the term ‘revolution' not in the sense of violent overthrow, but in the peaceful sense of development, that is, the gradual realisation of a new economic principle, the public party meeting at Mayence repudiates every kind of revolutionary romance.”

“The meeting sees in the conquest of political power nothing but the winning over of the majority of the people to the ideas and demands of the social democracy ; a conquest which cannot be achieved by means of violence, but only by the revolutionising of the mind by means of intellectual propaganda and practical reform work in all spheres of political, economic and social life.”

“In the conviction that social democracy flourishes far better when it employs legal means that when it relies on illegal means and revolution, the meeting repudiates ‘direct mass action' as a tactical principle, and holds fast to the principle of ‘parliamentary reform action,' that is, it desires that the party in the future as in the past, shall earnestly endeavour to achieve its aims by legislation and gradual organisational development.”

“The indispensable condition for this reformist method of struggle is that the possibility of participation of the dispossessed masses of the people in the legislation of the empire and of the individual states shall not be lessened but increased to the fullest possible extent. For this reason, the meeting declares it to be an incontestable right of the working class to withhold its labour for a longer or shorter period to ward off attacks on its legal rights and to gain further rights, when all other means fail.”

“But as the political mass strike can only be victoriously carried through when kept within strictly legal limits and when the strikers give no reasonable excuse to the authorities to resort to armed force, the meeting perceives the only necessary and real preparation for the exercise of this method of struggle in the further extension of the political, trade-union and co-operative organisations. Because only in this way can the conditions be created amongst the wide masses of the people which can guarantee the successful prosecution of a mass strike : conscious discipline and adequate economic support.”

The Strategy of October 1917 Revolution Wrote in 1906

Robert Paris — 2025-08-04T03:53:00Z

Leon Trotsky
.

Results and Prospects

(1906)

Preface

The character of the Russian Revolution was the fundamental question in relation to which the various ideological trends and political organizations of the Russian revolutionary movement grouped themselves. Even in the social-democratic movement itself this question aroused serious disagreements from the moment events gave it a practical character. From 1904 onwards these differences took the shape of two fundamental trends, Menshevism and Bolshevism. The Menshevik point of view was that our revolution would be a bourgeois revolution, i.e., that its natural consequence would be the transfer of power to the bourgeoisie and the creation of conditions for bourgeois parliamentarism. The point of view of Bolshevism, while recognizing the inevitability of the bourgeois character of the coming revolution, put forward as the task of the revolution the establishment of a democratic republic by means of the dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry.

The social analysis of the Mensheviks was extremely superficial and in essence reduced itself to crude historical analogies – the typical method of ‘educated' philistines. Neither the fact that the development of Russian capitalism had created extraordinary contradictions at both its poles, reducing the role of bourgeois democracy to insignificance, nor the experience of subsequent events, restrained the Mensheviks from an indefatigable search for ‘true', ‘real' democracy, which would place itself at the head of the ‘nation' and establish parliamentary and so far as possible democratic conditions for capitalist development. Always and everywhere the Mensheviks strove to find signs of the development of bourgeois democracy, and where they could not find them they invented them. They exaggerated the importance of every ‘democratic' declaration and demonstration, at the same time belittling the forces of the proletariat and the prospects before its struggle. So fanatically did they strive to find this leading bourgeois democracy, in order to secure the ‘legitimate' bourgeois character of the Russian Revolution alleged to be required by the laws of history, that during the Revolution itself, when no leading bourgeois democracy was to be found, the Mensheviks themselves undertook, with more or less success, to carry out its duties.

Petty-bourgeois democracy without any Socialist ideology, without any Marxian class preparation, could not, of course, have acted differently under the conditions of the Russian Revolution, than did the Mensheviks in the role of the ‘leading' Party of the February Revolution. The absence of any serious social foundation for bourgeois democracy told on the Mensheviks themselves, because they very soon outlived themselves, and in the eighth month of the Revolution were thrown aside by the class struggle.

Bolshevism, on the contrary, was by no means imbued with faith in the power and strength of revolutionary bourgeois democracy in Russia. From the very beginning, it acknowledged the decisive importance of the working class for the coming Revolution, but as to the programme of the Revolution itself the Bolsheviks limited it at first to the interests of the many millions of peasants, without and against whom the Revolution could not have been carried through to the end by the proletariat. Hence their acknowledgment (for the time being) of the bourgeois-democratic character of the Revolution.

As regards the estimation of the inner forces of the Revolution and its prospects, the author, at that period, adhered neither to one nor to the other of the main trends in the Russian Labour movement. The standpoint he then supported can be outlined as follows : the Revolution, having begun as a bourgeois revolution as regards its first tasks, will soon call forth powerful class conflicts and will gain final victory only by transferring power to the only class capable of standing at the head of the oppressed masses, namely, to the proletariat. Once in power, the proletariat not only will not want, but will not be able to limit itself to a bourgeois democratic programme. It will be able to carry through the Revolution to the end only in the event of the Russian Revolution being converted into a Revolution of the European proletariat. The bourgeois-democratic programme of the Revolution will then be superseded, together with its national limitations, and the temporary political domination of the Russian working class will develop into a prolonged Socialist dictatorship. But should Europe remain inert the bourgeois counter-revolution will not tolerate the government of the toiling masses in Russia and will throw the country back – far back from a democratic workers' and peasants' republic. Therefore, once having won power, the proletariat cannot keep within the limits of bourgeois democracy. It must adopt the tactics of permanent revolution, i.e., must destroy the barriers between the minimum and maximum programme of Social Democracy, go over to more and more radical social reforms and seek direct and immediate support in revolution in Western Europe. This position is developed and argued in the work now reissued, which was originally written in 1904-1906.

In maintaining the standpoint of the permanent revolution during a period of 15 years, the author nevertheless fell into error in his estimation of the contending factions of the social-democratic movement. As both of them started out from the standpoint of bourgeois revolution, the author was of the opinion that the divergencies existing between them would not be so deep as to justify a split. At the same time, he hoped that the further course of events would clearly prove the weakness and insignificance of Russian bourgeois democracy, on the one hand, and on the other, the objective impossibility of the proletariat limiting itself to a democratic programme. This he thought would remove the ground from under factional differences.

Having stood outside both of the two factions in the period of emigration, the author did not fully appreciate the very important circumstance that in reality, along the line of the disagreement between Bolsheviks and Mensheviks, there were being grouped inflexible revolutionaries on the one side and, on the other, elements which were becoming more and more opportunist and accommodating. When the Revolution of 1917 broke out, the Bolshevik Party constituted a strong centralized organization uniting all the best elements of the advanced workers and revolutionary intellectuals, which – after some internal struggle – frankly adopted tactics directed towards the socialist dictatorship of the working class, in full harmony with the entire international situation and class relations in Russia. As to the Menshevik faction, it had, by that time, just ripened sufficiently to be able to assume, as I said before, the duties of bourgeois democracy.

In offering to the public this reprint of his book at the present time, the author not only desires to explain the theoretical principles which rendered it possible for him and other comrades, who for many years had stood outside the Bolshevik Party, to join their fate with the fate of that party at the beginning of 1917 (such a personal explanation would not provide a sufficient reason for the reprinting of the book), but also to recall the social-historical analysis of the motive forces of the Russian Revolution from which followed the conclusion that the seizure of political power by the working class could and must be the task of the Russian Revolution, long before the proletarian dictatorship had become an accomplished fact. The fact that it is possible for us now to re-issue without alteration this pamphlet written in 1906 and conceived in its fundamental lines already in 1904, is sufficient proof that Marxist theory is not on the side of the Menshevik substitutes for bourgeois democracy but on the side of the party which actually carries out the dictatorship of the working class.

The final test of a theory is experience. Irrefutable proof of our having correctly applied Marxist theory is given by the fact that the events in which we are now participating, and even our methods of participation in them, were foreseen in their fundamental lines some 15 years ago.

As an appendix we reprint an article which was published in the Paris Nashe Slovo for October 17th, 1915, entitled The Struggle for Power. This article had a polemical purpose and was a criticism of the programmatic Letter addressed to ‘Comrades in Russia' by the leaders of the Mensheviks. In it we drew the conclusion that the development of class relations during the ten years after the revolution of 1905 had yet further undermined the Menshevik hope for a bourgeois democracy, and that thereby, obviously, the fate of the Russian Revolution was more than ever bound up with the question of the dictatorship of the proletariat ... In the face of the battle of ideas of all these many preceding years, one must indeed be a blockhead to speak of the ‘adventurism' of the October Revolution !

Talking of the attitude of the Mensheviks to the Revolution, one cannot but mention the Menshevik degeneration of Kautsky, who in the ‘theories' of Martov, Dan and Tsereteli now finds the expression of his own theoretical and political decay. After October 1917, we heard from Kautsky that, although the conquest of political power by the working class should be regarded as the historic task of the Social-Democratic Party, nevertheless, as the Russian Communist Party had failed to come to power through the particular door and according to the particular timetable fixed for it by Kautsky, the Soviet Republic ought to be handed over for correction to Kerensky, Tsereteli and Chernov. Kautsky's reactionary-pedantic criticism must have come the more unexpectedly to those comrades who had gone through the period of the first Russian Revolution with their eyes open and had read Kautsky's articles of 1905-1906. At that time Kautsky (true, not without the beneficial influence of Rosa Luxemburg) fully understood and acknowledged that the Russian Revolution could not terminate in a bourgeois-democratic republic but must inevitably lead to the proletarian dictatorship, because of the level attained by the class struggle in the country itself and because of the entire international situation of capitalism. Kautsky then frankly wrote about a workers' government with a social-democratic majority. He did not even think of making the real course of the class struggle depend on the changing and superficial combinations of political democracy.

At that time, Kautsky understood that the Revolution would begin for the first time to rouse the many millions of peasants and urban petty-bourgeoisie and that not all at once but gradually, layer by layer, so that when the struggle between the proletariat and the capitalist bourgeoisie reached its climax, the broad peasant masses would still be at a very primitive level of political development and would give their votes to intermediary political parties reflecting only the backwardness and the prejudices of the peasant class. Kautsky understood then that the proletariat, led by the logic of the revolution toward the conquest of power, could not arbitrarily postpone this act indefinitely, because by this self-abnegation it would merely clear the field for counter-revolution. Kautsky understood then that, once having seized revolutionary power, the proletariat would not make the fate of the revolution depend upon the passing moods of the least conscious, not yet awakened masses at any given moment, but that, on the contrary, it would turn the political power concentrated in its hands into a mighty apparatus for the enlightenment and organization of these same backward and ignorant peasant masses. Kautsky understood that to call the Russian Revolution a bourgeois revolution and thereby to limit its tasks would mean not to understand anything of what was going on in the world. Together with the Russian and Polish revolutionary Marxists, he rightly acknowledged that, should the Russian proletariat conquer power before the European proletariat, it would have to use its situation as the ruling class not for the rapid surrender of its positions to the bourgeoisie but for rendering powerful assistance to the proletarian revolution in Europe and throughout the world. All these world-wide prospects, imbued with the spirit of Marxian doctrine, were not made dependent either by Kautsky or by us upon how and for whom the peasants would vote at the elections to the so-called Constituent Assembly in November and December 1917.

Now, when the prospects outlined 15 years ago have become reality, Kautsky refuses to grant a birth-certificate to the Russian Revolution for the reason that its birth has not been duly registered at the political office of bourgeois democracy. What an astonishing fact ! What an incredible degradation of Marxism ! One can say with full justice that the decay of the Second International has found in this philistine judgment on the Russian Revolution by one of its greatest theoreticians a still more hideous expression than in the voting of the War credits on August 4, 1914.

For decades Kautsky developed and upheld the ideas of social revolution. Now that it has become reality, Kautsky retreats before it in terror. He is horrified at the Russian Soviet power and takes up a hostile attitude towards the mighty movement of the German Communist proletariat. Kautsky resembles to the life a miserable schoolmaster, who for many years has been repeating a description of spring to his pupils within the four walls of his stuffy schoolroom, and when at last, at the sunset of his days as a teacher, he comes out into the fresh air, does not recognize spring, becomes furious (in so far as it is possible for this schoolmaster to become furious) and tries to prove that spring is not spring after all but only a great disorder in nature, because it is taking place against the laws of natural history. It is well that the workers do not trust even to the most authoritative pedants, but trust the voice of spring !

We, disciples of Marx, together with the German workers, stand by our conviction that the spring of revolution has arrived fully in accordance with the laws of social nature, and at the same time in accordance with the laws of Marxist theory, for Marxism is not a schoolmaster's pointer rising above history, but a social analysis of the ways and means of the historic process which is really going on.

I have left the text of the two works – that of 1906 and that of 1915 – without any alterations. Originally I intended to supply the text with notes which would bring it up to date ; but on looking through the text I had to renounce this intention. If I wanted to go into details, I should have to double the size of the book, for which I have no time at present – and, besides, such a ‘two-storeyed' book would hardly be convenient for the reader. And, what is more important, I consider that the train of ideas in its main ramifications very nearly approaches the conditions of our time, and the reader who takes the trouble to get more thoroughly acquainted with this book will easily be able to supplement the exposition it gives with the necessary data taken from the experience of the present Revolution.

Revolution is an open measurement of strength between social forces in a struggle for power. The State is not an end in itself. It is only a machine in the hands of the dominating social forces. Like every machine it has its motor, transmitting and executive mechanism. The driving force of the State is class interest ; its motor mechanism is agitation, the press, church and school propaganda, parties, street meetings, petitions and revolts. The transmitting mechanism is the legislative organization of caste, dynastic, estate or class interests represented as the will of God (absolutism) or the will of the nation (parliamentarism). Finally, the executive mechanism is the administration, with its police, the courts, with their prisons, and the army.

The State is not an end in itself, but is a tremendous means for organizing, disorganizing and reorganizing social relations. It can be a powerful lever for revolution or a tool for organized stagnation, depending on the hands that control it.

Every political party worthy of the name strives to capture political power and thus place the State at the service of the class whose interests it expresses. The Social-Democrats, being the party of the proletariat, naturally strive for the political domination of the working class.

The proletariat grows and becomes stronger with the growth of capitalism. In this sense the development of capitalism is also the development of the proletariat towards dictatorship. But the day and the hour when power will pass into the hands of the working class depends directly not upon the level attained by the productive forces but upon relations in the class struggle, upon the international situation, and, finally, upon a number of subjective factors : the traditions, the initiative and the readiness to fight of the workers.

It is possible for the workers to come to power in an economically backward country sooner than in an advanced country. In 1871 the workers deliberately took power in their hands in petty-bourgeois Paris – true, for only two months, but in the big-capitalist centres of Britain or the United States the workers have never held power for so much as an hour. To imagine that the dictatorship of the proletariat is in some way automatically dependent on the technical development and resources of a country is a prejudice of ‘economic' materialism simplified to absurdity. This point of view has nothing in common with Marxism.

In our view, the Russian revolution will create conditions in which power can pass into the hands of the workers – and in the event of the victory of the revolution it must do so – before the politicians of bourgeois liberalism get the chance to display to the full their talent for governing.

Summing up the revolution and counter-revolution of 1848-49 in the American newspaper The Tribune, Marx wrote :

‘The working class in Germany is, in its social and political development, as far behind that of England and France as the German bourgeoisie is behind the bourgeoisie of those countries. Like master, like man. The evolution of the conditions of existence for a numerous, strong, concentrated and intelligent proletarian class goes hand in hand with the development of the conditions of existence for a numerous, wealthy, concentrated and powerful middle class. The working-class movement itself never is independent, never is of an exclusively proletarian character until all the different factions of the middle class, and particularly its most progressive faction, the large manufacturers, have conquered political power, and remodeled the State according to their wants. It is then that the inevitable conflict between the employer and the employed becomes imminent, and cannot be adjourned any longer ...' [1]

This quotation is probably familiar to the reader, for it has been considerably abused by the textual Marxists in recent times. It has been brought forward as an irrefutable argument against the idea of a working class government in Russia. ‘Like master, like man.' If the capitalist bourgeoisie is not strong enough to take power, they argue, then it is still less possible to establish a workers' democracy, i.e., the political domination of the proletariat.

Marxism is above all a method of analysis – not analysis of texts, but analysis of social relations. Is it true that, in Russia, the weakness of capitalist liberalism inevitably means the weakness of the labour movement ? Is it true, for Russia, that there cannot be an independent labour movement until the bourgeoisie has conquered power ? It is sufficient merely to put these questions to see what a hopeless formalism lies concealed beneath the attempt to convert an historically-relative remark of Marx's into a supra-historical axiom.

During the period of the industrial boom, the development of factory industry in Russia bore an ‘American' character ; but in its actual dimensions capitalist industry in Russia is an infant compared with the industry of the United States. Five million persons – 16.6 per cent of the economically occupied population – are engaged in manufacturing industry in Russia ; for the USA the corresponding figures would be six million and 22.2 per cent. These figures still tell us comparatively little, but they become eloquent if we recall that the population of Russia is nearly twice that of the USA. But in order to appreciate the actual dimensions of Russian and American industry it should be observed that in 1900 the American factories and large workshops turned out goods for sale to the amount of 25 milliard roubles, while in the same period the Russian factories turned out goods to the value of less than two and a half milliard roubles. [2]

There is no doubt that the numbers, the concentration, the culture and the political importance of the industrial proletariat depend on the extent to which capitalist industry is developed. But this dependence is not direct. Between the productive forces of a country and the political strength of its classes there cut across at any given moment various social and political factors of a national and international character, and these displace and even sometimes completely alter the political expression of economic relations. In spite of the fact that the productive forces of the United States are ten times as great as those of Russia, nevertheless the political role of the Russian proletariat, its influence on the politics of its own country and the possibility of its influencing the politics of the world in the near future are incomparably greater than in the case of the proletariat of the United States.

Kautsky, in his recent book on the American proletariat, points out that there is no direct relation between the political power of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie, on the one hand, and the level of capitalist development on the other. ‘Two states exist' he says, ‘diametrically contrasted one with the other. In one of them there is developed inordinately, i.e., out of proportion to the level of the development of the capitalist mode of production, one of the elements of the latter, and in the other, another of these elements. In one state – America – it is the capitalist class, while in Russia it is the proletariat. In no other country than America is there so much basis for speaking of the dictatorship of capital, while the militant proletariat has nowhere acquired such importance as in Russia. This importance must and undoubtedly will increase, because this country only recently began to take a part in the modern class struggle, and has only recently provided a certain amount of elbow room for it.' Pointing out that Germany, to a certain extent, may learn its future from Russia, Kautsky continues : ‘It is indeed most extraordinary that the Russian proletariat should be showing us our future, in so far as this is expressed not in the extent of the development of capital, but in the protest of the working class. The fact that this Russia is the most backward of the large states of the capitalist world would appear', observes Kautsky, ‘to contradict the materialist conception of history, according to which economic development is the basis of political development ; but really', he goes on to say, ‘this only contradicts the materialist conception of history as it is depicted by our opponents and critics, who regard it not as a method of investigation but merely as a ready-made stereotype.' [3] We particularly recommend these lines to our Russian Marxists, who replace independent analysis of social relations by deductions from texts, selected to serve every occasion in life. Nobody compromises Marxism so much as these self-styled Marxists.

Thus, according to Kautsky, Russia stands on an economically low level of capitalist development, politically it has an insignificant capitalist bourgeoisie and a powerful revolutionary proletariat. This results in the fact that ‘struggle for the interests of all Russia has fallen to the lot of the only now-existing strong class in the country – the industrial proletariat. For this reason the industrial proletariat has tremendous political importance, and for this reason the struggle for the emancipation of Russia from the incubus of absolutism which is stifling it has become converted into a single combat between absolutism and the industrial proletariat, a single combat in which the peasants may render considerable support but cannot play a leading role.

Does not all this give us reason to conclude that the Russian ‘man' will take power sooner than his ‘master' ?

There can be two forms of political optimism. We can exaggerate our strength and advantages in a revolutionary situation and undertake tasks which are not justified by the given correlation of forces. On the other hand, we may optimistically set a limit to our revolutionary tasks – beyond which, however, we shall inevitably be driven by the logic of our position.

It is possible to limit the scope of all the questions of the revolution by asserting that our revolution is bourgeois in its objective aims and therefore in its inevitable results, closing our eyes to the fact that the chief actor in this bourgeois revolution is the proletariat, which is being impelled towards power by the entire course of the revolution.

We may reassure ourselves that in the framework of a bourgeois revolution the political domination of the proletariat will only be a passing episode, forgetting that once the proletariat has taken power in its hands it will not give it up without a desperate resistance, until it is torn from its hands by armed force.

We may reassure ourselves that the social conditions of Russia are still not ripe for a socialist economy, without considering that the proletariat, on taking power, must, by the very logic of its position, inevitably be urged toward the introduction of state management of industry. The general sociological term bourgeois revolution by no means solves the politico-tactical problems, contradictions and difficulties which the mechanics of a given bourgeois revolution throw up.

Within the framework of the bourgeois revolution at the end of the eighteenth century, the objective task of which was to establish the domination of capital, the dictatorship of the sansculottes was found to be possible. This dictatorship was not simply a passing episode, it left its impress upon the entire ensuing century, and this in spite of the fact that it was very quickly shattered against the enclosing barriers of the bourgeois revolution. In the revolution at the beginning of the twentieth century, the direct objective tasks of which are also bourgeois, there emerges as a near prospect the inevitable, or at least the probable, political domination of the proletariat. The proletariat itself will see to it that this domination does not become a mere passing ‘episode', as some realist philistines hope. But we can even now ask ourselves : is it inevitable that the proletarian dictatorship should be shattered against the barriers of the bourgeois revolution, or is it possible that in the given world-historical conditions, it may discover before it the prospect of victory on breaking through these barriers ? Here we are confronted by questions of tactics : should we consciously work towards a working-class government in proportion as the development of the revolution brings this stage nearer, or must we at that moment regard political power as a misfortune which the bourgeois revolution is ready to thrust upon the workers, and which it would be better to avoid ?

Ought we to apply to ourselves the words of the ‘realist' politician Vollmar in connection with the Communards of 1871 : ‘Instead of taking power they would have done better to go to sleep' ...?
Notes

1. Marx, Germany in 1848-50, Russ. trans., Alexeyeva edition, 1905, pp.8-9. – L.T. [i.e. Germany : Revolution and Counter-Revolution, Ch.1 ; Selected Works of Karl Marx, 1942 edition, Vol.II, p.46.]

2. D. Mendeleyev, Towards the Understanding of Russia, 1906, p.99. – L.T.

3. K. Kautsky, American and Russian Workers, Russian translation, St. Petersburg 1906, pp.4 and 5. – L.T.

The Proletariat in Power and the Peasantry

In the event of a decisive victory of the revolution, power will pass into the hands of that class which plays a leading role in the struggle – in other words, into the hands of the proletariat. Let us say at once that this by no means precludes revolutionary representatives of non-proletarian social groups entering the government. They can and should be in the government : a sound policy will compel the proletariat to call to power the influential leaders of the urban petty-bourgeoisie, of the intellectuals and of the peasantry. The whole problem consists in this : who will determine the content of the government's policy, who will form within it a solid majority ?

It is one thing when representatives of the democratic strata of the people enter a government with a workers' majority, but it is quite another thing when representatives of the proletariat participate in a definitely bourgeois-democratic government in the capacity of more or less honoured hostages.

The policy of the liberal capitalist bourgeoisie, in all its waverings, retreats and treacheries, is quite definite. The policy of the proletariat is even more definite and finished. But the policy of the intellectuals, owing to their socially intermediate character and their political elasticity ; the policy of the peasantry, in view of their social diversity, ther intermediate position and their primitiveness ; the policy of the urban petty-bourgeoisie, once again owing to its lack of character, its intermediate position and its complete lack of political tradition – the policy of these three social groups is utterly indefinite, unformed, full of possibilities and therefore full of surprises.

It is sufficient to try to imagine a revolutionary democratic government without representatives of the proletariat to see immediately the senselessness of such a conception. The refusal of the social-democrats to participate in a revolutionary government would render such a government quite impossible and would thus be equivalent to a betrayal of the revolution. But the participation of the proletariat in a government is also objectively most probable, and permissible in principle, only as a dominating and leading participation. One may, of course, describe such a government as the dictatorship of the proletariat and peasantry, a dictatorship of the proletariat, peasantry and intelligentsia, or even a coalition government of the working class and the petty-bourgeoisie, but the question nevertheless remains : who is to wield the hegemony in the government itself, and through it in the country ? And when we speak of a workers' government, by this we reply that the hegemony should belong to the working class.

The National Convention, as an organ of the Jacobin dictatorship, was by no means composed of Jacobins alone. More than that – the Jacobins were in a minority in it ; but the influence of the sansculottes outside the walls of the Convention, and the need for a determined policy in order to save the country, gave power into the hands of the Jacobins. Thus, while the Convention was formally a national representation, consisting of Jacobins, Girondists and the vast wavering Centre known as the ‘marsh', in essence it was a dictatorship of the Jacobins.

When we speak of a workers' government we have in view a government in which the working-class representatives dominate and lead. The proletariat, in order to consolidate its power, cannot but widen the base of the revolution. Many sections of the working masses, particularly in the countryside, will be drawn into the revolution and become politically organized only after the advance-guard of the revolution, the urban proletariat, stands at the helm of state. Revolutionary agitation and organization will then be conducted with the help of state resources. The legislative power itself will become a powerful instrument for revolutionizing the masses. The nature of our social-historical relations, which lays the whole burden of the bourgeois revolution upon the shoulders of the proletariat, will not only create tremendous difficulties for the workers' government but, in the first period of its existence at any rate, will also give it invaluable advantages. This will affect the relations between the proletariat and the peasantry.

In the revolutions of 1789-93 and 1848 power first of all passed from absolutism to the moderate elements of the bourgeoisie, and it was the latter class which emancipated the peasantry (how, is another matter) before revolutionary democracy received or was even preparing to receive power. The emancipated peasantry lost all interest in the political stunts of the ‘townspeople', that is, in the further progress of the revolution, and placing itself like a heavy foundation-stone at the foot of ‘order', betrayed the revolution to the Caesarist or ancien-regime-absolutist reaction.

The Russian revolution does not, and for a long time will not, permit the establishment of any kind of bourgeois-constitutional order that might solve the most elementary problems of democracy. All the ‘enlightened' efforts of reformer-bureaucrats like Witte and Stolypin are nullified by their own struggle for existence. Consequently, the fate of the most elementary revolutionary interests of the peasantry – even the peasantry as a whole, as an estate, is bound up with the fate of entire revolution, i.e., with the fate of the proletariat.

The proletariat in power will stand before the peasants as the class which has emancipated it. The domination of the proletariat will mean not only democratic equality, free self-government, the transference of the whole burden of taxation to the rich classes, the dissolution of the standing army in the armed people and the abolition of compulsory church imposts, but also recognition of all revolutionary changes (expropriations) in land relationships carried out by the peasants. The proletariat will make these changes the starting-point for further state measures in agriculture. Under such conditions the Russian peasantry in the first and most difficult period of the revolution will be interested in the maintenance of a proletarian regime (workers' democracy) at all events not less than was the French peasantry in the maintenance of the military regime of Napoleon Bonaparte, which guaranteed to the new property-owners, by the force of its bayonets, the inviolability of their holdings. And this means that the representative body of the nation, convened under the leadership of the proletariat, which has secured the support of the peasantry, will be nothing else than a democratic dress for the rule of the proletariat.

But is it not possible that the peasantry may push the proletariat aside and take its place ? This is impossible. All historical experience protests against this assumption. Historical experience shows that the peasantry are absolutely incapable of taking up an independent political role. [1]

The history of capitalism is the history of the subordination of the country to the town. The industrial development of the European towns in due course rendered the further existence of feudal relations in agriculture impossible. But the countryside itself never produced a class which could undertake the revolutionary task of abolishing feudalism. The town, which subordinated agriculture to capital, produced a revolutionary force which took political hegemony over the countryside into its hands and spread revolution in state and property relations into the countryside. As further development has proceeded, the country has finally fallen into economic enslavement to capital, and the peasantry into political enslavement to the capitalist parties. These parties have revived feudalism in parliamentary politics, converting the peasantry into a domain for their electoral hunting expeditions. The modern bourgeois state, by means of taxation and militarism, throws the peasant into the clutches of usurers' capital, and by means of state priests, state schools and the corruptions of barrack life makes him a victim of usurers' politics.

The Russian bourgeoisie will surrender the entire revolutionary position to the proletariat. It will also have to surrender the revolutionary hegemony over the peasants. In such a situation, created by the transference of power to the proletariat, nothing remains for the peasantry to do but to rally to the regime of workers' democracy. It will not matter much even if the peasantry does this with a degree of consciousness not larger than that with which it usually rallies to the bourgeois regime. But while every bourgeois party commanding the votes of the peasantry hastens to use its power in order to swindle and deceive the peasants and then, if the worst comes to the worst, gives place to another capitalist party, the proletariat, relying on the peasantry, will bring all forces into play in order to raise the cultural level of the countryside and develop the political consciousness of the peasantry. From what we have said above, it will be clear how we regard the idea of a ‘proletarian and peasant dictatorship'. It is not really a matter of whether we regard it as admissible in principle, whether ‘we do or do not desire' such a form of political co-operation. We simply think that it is unrealisable – at least in a direct immediate sense.

Indeed, such a coalition presupposes either that one of the existing bourgeois parties commands influence over the peasantry or that the peasantry will have created a powerful independent party of its own, but we have attempted to show that neither the one nor the other is possible.
Notes

1. Does the fact of the rise and development first of the Peasant Union and then of the Group of Toil (Trudoviki) in the Duma run counter to these and subsequent arguments ? Not in the least. What is the Peasant Union ? A Union that embraces some elements of the radical democracy who are looking for masses to support them, together with the more conscious elements of the peasantry – obviously not the lowest strata of the peasantry – on the platform of a democratic revolution and agrarian reform.

As to the agrarian programme of the Peasant Union ('equality in the use of land'), which is the meaning of its existence, the following must be observed : the wider and deeper the development of the agrarian movement and the sooner it comes to the point of confiscation and distribution of land, the sooner will the process of disintegration set in the Peasant Union, in consequence of a thousand contradictions of a class, local, everyday and technical nature. Its members will exercise their share of influence in the Peasants' Committees, the organs of the agrarian revolution in the villages, but needless to say the Peasants' Committees, economic-administrative institutions, will not be able to abolish the political dependence of the country upon the town, which forms one of the fundamental features of modern society.

The radicalism and formlessness of the Group of Toil was the expression of the contradictoriness in the revolutionary aspirations of the peasantry. During the period of constitutional illusions it helplessly followed the ‘Cadets' (Constitutional Democrats). At the moment of the dissolution of the Duma it came naturally under the guidance of the Social-Democratic Group. The lack of independence on the part of the peasant representatives will show itself with particular clearness at the moment when it becomes necessary to show firm initiative, that is, at the time when power has to pass into the hands of the revolutionaries. – L.T.

The Proletarian Regime

The proletariat can only achieve power by relying upon a national upsurge and national enthusiasm. The proletariat will enter the government as the revolutionary representative of the nation, as the recognized national leader in the struggle against absolutism and feudal barbarism. In taking power, however, it will open a new epoch, an epoch of revolutionary legislation, of positive policy, and in this connection it cannot at all be sure of retaining the role of the recognized expressor of the will of the nation. The first measures of the proletariat, cleansing the Augean stables of the old regime and driving out its inmates, will meet with the active support of the whole nation, in spite of what the liberal eunuchs may say about the tenacity of certain prejudices among the masses of the people.

This political cleansing will be supplemented by a democratic reorganization of all social and state relations. The workers' government will be obliged, under the influence of direct pressures and demands, to intervene decisively in all relationships and events ...

Its first task will have to be the dismissal from the army and administration of all those who are stained with the blood of the people, and the cashiering or disbandment of the regiments which have most sullied themselves with crimes against the people. This will have to be done in the very first days of the revolution, that is, long before it is possible to introduce the system of elected and responsible officials and organize a national militia. But the matter will not end there. Workers' democracy will immediately be confronted by questions of the length of the working day, the agrarian question, and the problem of unemployment.

One thing is clear. Every passing day will deepen the policy of the proletariat in power, and more and more define its class character. Side by side with that, the revolutionary ties between the proletariat and the nation will be broken, the class disintegration of the peasantry will assume political form, and the antagonism between the component sections will grow in proportion as the policy of the workers' government defines itself, ceasing to be a general-democratic and becoming a class policy.

Though the absence of accumulated bourgeois-individualistic traditions and anti-proletarian prejudices among the peasantry and intellectuals will assist the proletariat to come into power, it is necessary on the other hand to bear in mind that this absence of prejudices is due not to political consciousness but to political barbarism, social formlessness, primitiveness and lack of character. None of these features can in any way create a reliable basis for a consistent, active proletarian policy.

The abolition of feudalism will meet with support from the entire peasantry, as the burden-bearing estate. A progressive income-tax will also be supported by the great majority of the peasantry. But any legislation carried through for the purpose of protecting the agricultural proletariat will not only not receive the active sympathy of the majority, but will even meet with the active opposition of a minority of the peasantry.

The proletariat will find itself compelled to carry the class struggle into the villages and in this manner destroy that community of interest which is undoubtedly to be found among all peasants, although within comparatively narrow limits. From the very first moment after its taking power, the proletariat will have to find support in the antagonisms between the village poor and village rich, between the agricultural proletariat and the agricultural bourgeoisie. While the heterogeneity of the peasantry creates difficulties and narrows the basis for a proletarian policy, the insufficient degree of class differentiation will create obstacles to the introduction among the peasantry of developed class struggle, upon which the urban proletariat could rely. The primitiveness of the peasantry turns its hostile face towards the proletariat.

The cooling-off of the peasantry, its political passivity, and all the more the active opposition of its upper sections, cannot but have an influence on a section of the intellectuals and the petty-bourgeoisie of the towns.

Thus, the more definite and determined the policy of the proletariat in power becomes, the narrower and more shaky does the ground beneath its feet become. All this is extremely probable and even inevitable ...

The two main features of proletarian policy which will meet opposition from the allies of the proletariat are collectivism and internationalism.

The primitiveness and petty-bourgeois character of the peasantry, its limited rural outlook, its isolation from world-political ties and allegiances, will create terrible difficulties for the consolidation of the revolutionary policy of the proletariat in power.

To imagine that it is the business of Social Democrats to enter a provisional government and lead it during the period of revolutionary-democratic reforms, fighting for them to have a most radical character, and relying for this purpose upon the organized proletariat – and then, after the democratic programme has been carried out, to leave the edifice they have constructed so as to make way for the bourgeois parties and themselves go into opposition, thus opening up a period of parliamentary politics, is to imagine the thing in a way that would compromise the very idea of a workers' government. This is not because it is inadmissible ‘in principle' – putting the question in this abstract form is devoid of meaning – but because it is absolutely unreal, it is utopianism of the worst sort – a sort of revolutionary-philistine utopianism.

For this reason :

The division of our programme into maximum and minimum programmes has a profound and tremendous principled significance during the period when power lies in the hands of the bourgeoisie. The very fact of the bourgeoisie being in power drives out of our minimum programme all demands which are incompatible with private property in the means of production. Such demands form the content of a socialist revolution and presuppose a proletarian dictatorship.

Immediately, however, that power is transferred into the hands of a revolutionary government with a socialist majority, the division of our programme into maximum and minimum loses all significance, both in principle and in immediate practice. A proletarian government under no circumstances can confine itself within such limits. Take the question of the eight-hour day. As is known, this by no means contradicts capitalist relations, and therefore it forms an item in the minimum programme of Social Democracy. But let us imagine the actual introduction of this measure during a period of revolution, in a period of intensified class passions ; there is no question but that this measure would then meet the organized and determined resistance of the capitalists in the form, let us say, of lockouts and the closing down of factories.

Hundreds of thousands of workers would find themselves thrown on the streets. What should the government do ? A bourgeois government, however radical it might be, would never allow affairs to reach this stage because, confronted with the closing-down of factories, it would be left powerless. It would be compelled to retreat, the eight-hour day would not be introduced and the indignant workers would be suppressed.

Under the political domination of the proletariat, the introduction of an eight-hour day should lead to altogether different consequences. For a government that desires to rely upon the proletariat, and not on capital, as liberalism does, and which does not desire to play the role of an ‘impartial' intermediary of bourgeois democracy, the closing down of factories would not of course be an excuse for increasing the working day. For a workers' government there would be only one way out : expropriation of the closed factories and the organization of production in them on a socialized basis.

Of course, one can argue in this way : we will suppose that the workers' government, true to its programme, issues a decree for an eight-hour day ; if capital puts up a resistance which cannot be overcome by the resources of a democratic programme based on the preservation of private property, the Social Democrats will resign and appeal to the proletariat. Such a solution would be a solution only from the standpoint of the group constituting the membership of the government, but it would be no solution for the proletariat or for the development of the revolution. After the resignation of the Social Democrats, the situation would be exactly as it was at the time when they were compelled to take power. To flee before the organized opposition of capital would be a greater betrayal of the revolution than a refusal to take power in the first instance. It would really be far better for the working-class party not to enter the government than to go in so as to expose its own weakness and then to quit.

Let us take another example. The proletariat in power cannot but adopt the most energetic measures to solve the question of unemployment, because it is quite obvious that the representatives of the workers in the government cannot reply to the demands of unemployed workers with arguments about the bourgeois character of the revolution.

But if the government undertakes to maintain the unemployed – it is not important for us at the moment in what form – this would mean an immediate and quite substantial shift of economic power to the side of the proletariat. The capitalists, who in their oppression of the workers always relied upon the existence of a reserve army of labour, would feel themselves economically powerless while the revolutionary government, at the same time, doomed them to political impotence.

In undertaking the maintenance of the unemployed, the government thereby undertakes the maintenance of strikers. If it does not do that, it immediately and irrevocably undermines the basis of its own existence.

There is nothing left for the capitalists to do then but to resort to the lockout, that is, to close the factories. It is quite clear that the employers can stand the closing down of production much longer than the workers, and therefore there is only one reply that a workers' government can give to a general lockout : the expropriation of the factories and the introduction in at least the largest of them of State or communal production.

Similar problems arise in agriculture by the mere fact of the expropriation of the land. In no way must it be supposed that a proletarian government, on expropriating the privately-owned estates carrying on production on a large scale, would break these up and sell them for exploitation to small producers. The only path open to it in this sphere is the organization of co-operative production under communal control or organized directly by the State. But this is the path to Socialism.

All this quite clearly shows that Social Democrats cannot enter a revolutionary government, giving the workers in advance an undertaking not to give way on the minimum programme, and at the same time promising the bourgeoisie not to go beyond it. Such a bilateral undertaking is absolutely impossible to realize. The very fact of the proletariat's representatives entering the government, not as powerless hostages, but as the leading force, destroys the border-line between maximum and minimum programme ; that is to say, it places collectivism on the order of the day. The point at which the proletariat will be held up in its advance in this direction depends upon the relation of forces, but in no way upon the original intentions of the proletarian party.

For this reason there can be no talk of any sort of special form of proletarian dictatorship in the bourgeois revolution, of democratic proletarian dictatorship (or dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry). The working class cannot preserve the democratic character of its dictatorship without refraining from overstepping the limits of its democratic programme. Any illusions on this point would be fatal. They would compromise Social Democracy from the very start.

The proletariat, once having taken power, will fight for it to the very end. While one of the weapons in this struggle for the maintenance and the consolidation of power will be agitation and organization, especially in the countryside, another will be a policy of collectivism. Collectivism will become not only the inevitable way forward from the position in which the party in power will find itself, but will also be a means of preserving this position with the support of the proletariat.

When the idea of uninterrupted revolution was formulated in the socialist press – an idea which connected the liquidation of absolutism and feudalism with a socialist revolution, along with growing social conflicts, uprisings of new sections of the masses, unceasing attacks by the proletariat upon the economic and political privileges of the ruling classes – our ‘progressive' press raised a unanimous howl of indignation. ‘Oh !' it cried, ‘we have put up with a lot, but we cannot allow this. Revolution,' it cried, ‘is not a road that can be “legalized”. The application of exceptional measures is only permissible under exceptional circumstances. The aim of the movement for emancipation is not to make revolution permanent but to lead it as soon as possible into the channel of law,' etc., etc.

The more radical representatives of this same democracy do not risk taking up a stand against revolution even from the point of view of already-secured constitutional ‘gains'. For them this parliamentary cretinism, preceding the rise of parliamentarism itself, does not constitute a strong weapon in the struggle against the proletarian revolution. They choose another path. They take their stand not on the basis of law but on what seems to them the basis of facts – on the basis of historical ‘possibility', on the basis of political ‘realism' and, finally ... finally, even on the basis of ‘marxism'. And why not ? That pious Venetian bourgeois, Antonio, very aptly said :

‘The devil can quote Scripture to his purpose.'

These radical democrats not only regard the idea of a workers' government in Russia as fantastic, but they even deny the possibility of a socialist revolution in Europe in the historical epoch immediately ahead. ‘The pre-requisites of revolution', they say, ‘are not yet visible.' Is that true ? Certainly there is no question of appointing a dateline for the socialist revolution, but it is necessary to point out its real historical prospects.

The Pre-Requisites of Socialism

Marxism converted socialism into a science, but this does not prevent some ‘Marxists' from converting Marxism into a Utopia.

Rozhkov, arguing against the programme of socialization and co-operation, presents the ‘necessary pre-requisites of the future society, firmly laid down by Marx', in the following way : ‘Are there already present,' asks Rozhkov, ‘the material objective pre-requisites, consisting of such a development of technique as would reduce the motive of personal gain and concern for cash [?], personal effort, enterprise and risk, to a minimum, and which would thereby make social production a front-rank question ? Such a level of technique is most closely connected with the almost complete [!] domination of large-scale production in all [!] branches of the economy. Has such a stage been reached ? Even the subjective, psychological pre-requisites are lacking, such as the growth of class-consciousness among the proletariat, developed to such a level as to achieve the spiritual unity of the overwhelming mass of the people. We know,' continues Rozhkov, ‘of producer associations such as the well-known French glassworks at Albi, and several agricultural associations, also in France, and yet the experience of France shows, as nothing else can, that even the conditions of so advanced a country are not sufficiently developed to permit the dominance of co-operation. These enterprises are of only the average size, their technical level is not higher than ordinary capitalist undertakings, they are not at the head of industrial development, do not lead it, but approach a modest average level.

‘Only when the experience of individual productive associations points to their leading role in economic life can we say that we approaching a new system, only then can we be sure that the necessary conditions for its existence have been established.' [1]

While respecting the good intentions of Comrade Rozhkov, we regretfully have to confess that rarely even in bourgeois literature have we met such confusion as he betrays with regard to what are known as the pre-requisites of socialism. It will be worthwhile dwelling to some extent on this confusion, if not for the sake of Rozhkov, at least for the sake of the question.

Rozhkov declares that we have not yet reached ‘such a stage of technical development as would reduce the motive of personal gain and concern for cash [?], personal effort, enterprise and risk, to a minimum, and which would make social production a front-rank question'.

It is rather difficult to find the meaning of this passage. Apparently Rozhkov wishes to say, in the first place, that modern technique has not yet sufficiently ousted human labour-power from industry and, secondly, that to secure this elimination would require the ‘almost' complete domination of large state enterprises in all branches of the economy, and therefore the ‘almost' complete proletarianization of the whole population of the country. These are the two prerequisites to socialism alleged to have been ‘firmly laid down by Marx'.

Let us try and imagine the setting of capitalist relations which, according to Rozhkov, socialism will encounter when it arrives. ‘The almost complete domination of large-scale enterprise in all branches of industry', under capitalism, means, as has been said, the proletarianization of all small and medium producers in agriculture and industry, that is to say, the conversion of the whole of the population into proletarians. But the complete domination of machine technique in these large undertakings would lead to the reduction of the employment of human labour-power to a minimum, and therefore the overwhelming majority of the population of the country – say, 90 per cent – would be converted into a reserve army of labour living at the expense of the State in workhouses. We said 90 per cent of the population, but there is nothing to prevent us from being logical and imagining a state of affairs in which the whole of production consists of a single automatic mechanism, belonging to a single syndicate and requiring as living labour only a single trained orang-outang. As we know, this is the brilliantly consistent theory of Professor Tugan-Baranovsky. Under such conditions ‘social production' not only occupies ‘front rank' but commands the whole field. Under these circumstances, moreover, consumption would naturally also become socialized in view of the fact that the whole of the nation, except the 10 per cent who own the trust, will be living at the public expense in workhouses. Thus, behind Rozhkov we see smiling the familiar face of Tugan-Baranovsky. Socialism can now come on the scene. The population emerges from the workhouses and expropriates the group of expropriators. No revolution or dictatorship of the proletariat is of course necessary.

The second economic sign of the ripeness of a country for socialism, according to Rozhkov, is the possibility of the domination of co-operative production within it. Even in France the co-operative glassworks at Albi is not on a higher level than any other capitalist undertaking. Socialist production becomes possible only when the co-operatives are in the forefront of industrial development, as the leading enterprises.

The entire argument from beginning to end is turned inside out. The co-operatives cannot take the lead in industrial progress, not because economic development has not gone far enough, but because it has gone too far ahead. Undoubtedly, economic development creates the basis for co-operation, but for what kind of co-operation ? For capitalist co-operation, based on wage-labour – every factory shows us a picture of such capitalist co-operation. With the development of technique the importance of such co-operation grows also. But in what manner can the development of capitalism place the co-operative societies ‘in the front rank of industry' ? On what does Rozhkov base his hopes that the co-operative societies can squeeze out the syndicates and trusts and take their place in the forefront of industrial development ? It is evident that if this took place the co-operative societies would then simply have automatically to expropriate all capitalist undertakings, after which it would remain for them to reduce the working day sufficiently to provide work for all citizens and to regulate the amount of production in the various branches in order to avoid crises. In this manner the main features of socialism would be established. Again it is clear that no revolution and no dictatorship of the working class would be at all necessary.

The third pre-requisite is a psychological one : the need for ‘the class-consciousness of the proletariat to have reached such a stage as to unite spiritually the overwhelming majority of the people'. As ‘spiritual unity', in this instance, must evidently be regarded as meaning conscious socialist solidarity, it follows therefore that Comrade Rozhkov considers that a psychological pre-requisite of socialism is the organization of the ‘overwhelming majority of the population' within the Social-Democratic Party. Rozhkov evidently assumes therefore that capitalism, throwing the small producers into the ranks of the proletariat, and the mass of the proletarians into the ranks of the reserve army of labour, will create the possibility for Social Democracy spiritually to unite and enlighten the overwhelming majority (90 per cent ?) of the people.

This is as impossible of realization in the world of capitalist barbarism as the domination of co-operatives in the realm of capitalist competition. But if this were realizable, then of course, the consciously and spiritually united ‘overwhelming majority' of the nation would crush without any difficulty the few magnates of capital and organize socialist economy without revolution or dictatorship.

But here the following question arises. Rozhkov regards Marx as his teacher. Yet Marx, having outlined the ‘essential prerequisites for socialism' in his Communist Manifesto, regarded the revolution of 1848 as the immediate prologue to the socialist revolution. Of course one does not require much penetration after 60 years to see that Marx was mistaken, because the capitalist world still exists. But how could Marx have made this error ? Did he not perceive that large-scale undertakings did not yet dominate in all branches of industry ; that producers' co-operatives did not yet stand at the head of the large-scale enterprises ; that the overwhelming majority of the people were not yet united on the basis of the ideas set out in the Communist Manifesto ? If we do not see these things even now, how is it then that Marx did not perceive that nothing of the kind existed in 1848 ? Apparently, Marx in 1848 was a Utopian youth in comparison with many of the present-day infallible automata of Marxism !

We thus see that although Comrade Rozhkov by no means belongs among the critics of Marx, nevertheless he completely discards the proletarian revolution as an essential pre-requisite of socialism. As Rozhkov has only too consistently expressed the views shared by a considerable number of Marxists in both trends of our party, it is necessary to dwell on the bases in principle and method of the errors he has made.

One must observe in passing that Rozhkov's argument concerning the destiny of the co-operatives is his very own. We have never and nowhere met socialists who both believed in such a simple irresistible progress of the concentration of production and proletarianization of the people and at the same time believed in the dominating role of producers' co-operative societies prior to the proletarian revolution. To unite these two pre-requisites is much more difficult in economic evolution than in one's head ; although even the latter had always seemed to us impossible.

But we will deal with two other ‘pre-requisites' which constitute more typical prejudices. Undoubtedly, the concentration of production, the development of technique and the growth of consciousness among the masses are essential pre-requisites for socialism. But these processes take place simultaneously, and not only give an impetus to each other, but also retard and limit each other. Each of these processes at a higher level demands a certain development of another process at a lower level. But the complete development of each of them is incompatible with the complete development of the others.

The development of technique undoubtedly finds its ideal limit in a single automatic mechanism which takes raw materials from the womb of nature and throws them at the feet of man in the form of finished articles of consumption. If the existence of the capitalist system were not limited by class relations and the revolutionary struggle that arises from them, we should have some grounds for supposing that technique, approaching the ideal of a single automatic mechanism within the framework of the capitalist system, would thereby automatically abolish capitalism.

The concentration of production arising from the laws of competition inherently tends towards proletarianizing the whole population. Isolating this tendency, we should be right in supposing that capitalism would carry out its work to the end, if the process of proletarianization were not interrupted by a revolution ; but this is inevitable, given a certain relationship of forces, long before capitalism has converted the majority of the nation into a reserve army, confined to prison-like barracks.

Further – consciousness, thanks to the experience of the everyday struggle and the conscious efforts of the socialist parties, undoubtedly grows progressively, and, isolating this process, we could in imagination follow this growth until the majority of the people were included in the trade unions and political organizations, united by a spirit of solidarity and singleness of aim. If this process could really increase quantitatively without being affected qualitatively, socialism could be realized peaceably by a unanimous, conscious ‘civil act' some time in the 21st or the 22nd century.

But the whole point lies in the fact that the processes which are historically pre-requisite for socialism do not develop in isolation, but limit each other, and, reaching a certain stage, determined by numerous circumstances – which, however, is far removed from the mathematical limit of these processes – they undergo a qualitative change, and in their complex combination bring about what we understand by the name of social revolution.

We will begin with the last-mentioned process – the growth of consciousness. This takes place, as we know, not in academies, in which it might be possible artificially to detain the proletariat for fifty, a hundred or five hundred years, but in the course of all-round life in capitalist society, on the basis of unceasing class struggle. The growth of the consciousness of the proletariat transforms this class struggle, gives it a deeper and more purposeful character, which in its turn calls out a corresponding reaction on the part of the dominant class. The struggle of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie will reach its denouement long before large-scale enterprises begin to dominate in all branches of industry.

Further, it is of course true that the growth of political consciousness depends upon the growth of the numbers of the proletariat, and proletarian dictatorship presupposes that the numbers of the proletariat will be sufficiently large to overcome the resistance of the bourgeois counter-revolution. But this does not at all mean that the ‘overwhelming majority' of the population must be proletarians and the ‘overwhelming majority' of the proletariat conscious socialists. It is clear, of course, that the conscious revolutionary army of the proletariat must be stronger than the counter-revolutionary army of capital, while the intermediate, doubtful or indifferent strata of the population must be in such a position that the regime of proletarian dictatorship will attract them to the side of the revolution and not repel them to the side of its enemies. Naturally, proletarian policy must consciously take this into consideration.

All this in its turn presupposes the hegemony of industry over agriculture and the domination of town over country.

We will now endeavour to examine the pre-requisites of socialism in diminishing order of generality and increasing order of complexity.

1. Socialism is not merely a question of equal distribution but also a question of planned production. Socialism, that is, co-operative production on a large scale, is possible only when the development of productive forces has reached the stage at which large enterprises are more productive than small ones. The more the large enterprises outweigh the smaller, i.e., the more developed technique has become, the more advantageous economically does socialized production become, and, consequently, the higher must the cultural level of the whole population be as a result of equal distribution based upon planned production.

This first objective pre-requisite of socialism has been in existence a long time – ever since the time when social division of labour led to the division of labour in manufacture. It has existed to an even greater extent since the time when manufacture was replaced by factory, machine production. Large undertakings became more and more advantageous, which also meant that the socialization of these large undertakings would have made society more and more wealthy. It is clear that the transition of all the handicraft workshops to the common ownership of all the handicraftsmen would not have made the latter one whit richer, whereas the transfer of manufactures to the common ownership of their detail-workers, or the transfer of the factories into the hands of the workers employed in them – or, it would be better to say, the transfer of all the means of large factory production into the hands of the whole population – would undoubtedly raise the people's material level ; and the higher the stage reached by large-scale production, the higher would be this level.

In socialist literature the instance is often quoted of the English Member of Parliament, Bellers [2] who, in 1696, i.e., a century before the conspiracy of Babeuf, submitted to Parliament a project for establishing co-operative societies which should independently supply all their own requirements. According to this measure, these producers' co-operatives were to consist of from two to three hundred persons. We cannot here test his argument, nor is it necessary for our purpose ; what is important is that collective economy, even if it was conceived only in terms of groups of 100, 200, 300 or 500 persons, was regarded as advantageous from the standpoint of production already at the end of the 17th century.

At the beginning of the 19th century Fourier drew up his schemes for producer-consumer associations, ‘phalansteries', each consisting of from 2,000 to 3,000 persons. Fourier's calculations were never distinguished by their exactness ; but at all events, the development of manufacture by that time suggested to him a field for economic collectives incomparably wider than in the example quoted above. It is clear, however, that both the associations of John Bellers and the ‘phalansteries' of Fourier are much nearer in their character to the free economic communes of which the Anarchists dream, the utopianism of which consists not in their ‘impossibility' or in their being ‘against nature' – the communist communes in America proved that they were possible – but in that they have lagged 100 to 200 years behind the progress of economic development.

The development of the social division of labour, on the one hand, and machine production on the other, has led to the position that nowadays the only co-operative body which could utilize the advantages of collective production on a wide scale is the State. More than that, socialist production, for both economic and political reasons, could not be confined within the restricting limits of individual states.

Atlanticus [3], a German Socialist who did not adopt the Marxist point of view, calculated at the end of last century the economic advantages that would accrue from applying socialist economy in a unit such as Germany. Atlanticus was not at all distinguished by flights of fancy. His ideas generally moved within the circle of the economic routine of capitalism. He based his arguments on the writings of authoritative modern agronomists and engineers. This does not weaken his arguments, rather is it his strong side, because it preserves him from undue optimism. In any case, Atlanticus comes to the conclusion that, with proper organization of socialist economy, with employment of the technical resources of the mid-nineties of the 19th century, the income of the workers could be doubled or trebled, and that the working day could be halved.

One should not imagine, however, that Atlanticus was the first to show the economic advantages of socialism. The greater productivity of labour in large undertakings, on the one hand, and, on the other, the necessity for the planning of production, as proved by the economic crises, has been much more convincing evidence for the necessity of socialism than Atlanticus's socialistic book-keeping. His service consists only in that he expressed these advantages in approximate figures.

From what has been said we are justified in arriving at the conclusion that the further growth of the technical power of man will render socialism more and more advantageous ; that sufficient technical pre-requisites for collective production have already existed for a hundred or two hundred years, and that at the present moment socialism is technically advantageous not only on a national but to an enormous extent also on a world scale.

The mere technical advantages of socialism were not at all sufficient for it to be realized. During the 18th and 19th centuries the advantages of large-scale production showed themselves not in a socialist but in a capitalist form. Neither the schemes of Bellers nor those of Fourier were carried out. Why not ? Because there were no social forces existent at that time ready and able to carry them out.

2. We now pass from the productive-technical pre-requisites of socialism to the social-economic ones. If we had to deal here not with a society split up by class antagonism, but with a homogeneous community which consciously selects its form of economy, the calculations of Atlanticus would undoubtedly be quite sufficient for socialist construction to be begun. Atlanticus himself, being a socialist of a very vulgar type, thus, indeed, regarded his own work. Such a point of view at the present day could be applied only within the limits of the private business of a single person or of a company. One is always justified in assuming that any scheme of economic reform, such as the introduction of new machinery, new raw materials, a new form of management of labour, or new systems of remuneration, will always be accepted by the owners if only these schemes can be shown to offer a commercial advantage. But in so far as we have to do here with the economy of society, that is not sufficient. Here, opposing interests are in conflict. What is advantageous for one is disadvantageous for another. The egoism of one class acts not only against the egoism of another, but also to the disadvantage of the whole community. Therefore, in order to realize socialism it is necessary that among the antagonistic classes of capitalist society there should be a social force which is interested, by virtue of its objective position, in the realization of socialism, and which is powerful enough to be able to overcome hostile interests and resistances in order to realize it.

One of the fundamental services rendered by scientific socialism consists in that it theoretically discovered such a social force in the proletariat, and showed that this class, inevitably growing along with capitalism, can find its salvation only in socialism, that the entire position of the proletariat drives it towards socialism and that the doctrine of socialism cannot but become in the long run the ideology of the proletariat.

It is easy to understand therefore what a tremendous step backwards Atlanticus takes when he asserts that, once it is proved that, ‘by transferring the means of production into the hands of the State, not only can the general well being be secured, but the working-day also reduced, then it is a matter of indifference whether the theory of the concentration of capital and the disappearance of the intermediate classes of society is confirmed or not'.

According to Atlanticus, immediately the advantages of socialism have been proved, ‘it is useless resting one's hopes on the fetish of economic development, one should make extensive investigations and start [!] a comprehensive and thorough preparation for the transition from private to state or “social” production'. [4]

In objecting to the purely oppositional tactics of the Social Democrats and suggesting an immediate ‘start' in preparing the transition to socialism, Atlanticus forgets that the Social Democrats still lack the power needed for this, and that Wilhelm II, Bülow and the majority in the German Reichstag, although they have power in their hands, have not the slightest intention of introducing socialism. The socialist schemes of Atlanticus are no more convincing to the Hohenzollerns than the schemes of Fourier were to the restored Bourbons, notwithstanding the fact that the latter based his political utopianism on passionate fantasies in the field of economic theory, whereas Atlanticus, in his not less utopian politics, based himself on convincing, philistinely-sober book-keeping.

What level must social differentiation have attained in order that the second pre-requisite for socialism may be realized ? In other words, what must be the relative numerical weight of the proletariat ? Must it make up a half, two-thirds or nine-tenths of the population ? It would be an absolutely hopeless undertaking to try to define the bare arithmetical limits of this second prerequisite for socialism. In the first place, in such a schematic effort, we should have to decide the question of who is to be included in the category ‘proletariat'. Should we include the large class of semi-proletarian semi-peasants ? Should we include the reserve masses of the urban proletariat – who on the one hand merge into the parasitical proletariat of beggars and thieves, and on the other fill the city streets as small traders playing a parasitical role in relation to the economic system as a whole ? This question is not at all a simple one.

The importance of the proletariat depends entirely on the role it plays in large-scale production. The bourgeoisie relies, in its struggle for political domination, upon its economic power. Before it manages to secure political power, it concentrates the country's means of production in its own hands. This is what determines its specific weight in society. The proletariat, however, in spite of all co-operative phantasmagoria, will be deprived of the means of production right up to the actual socialist revolution. Its social power comes from the fact that the means of production which are in the hands of the bourgeoisie can be set in motion only by the proletariat. From the point of view of the bourgeoisie, the proletariat is also one of the means of production, constituting, in conjunction with the others, a single unified mechanism. The proletariat, however, is the only non-automatic part of this mechanism, and in spite of all efforts it cannot be reduced to the condition of an automaton. This position gives the proletariat the power to hold up at will, partially or wholly, the proper functioning of the economy of society, through partial or general strikes. From this it is clear that the importance of a proletariat – given identical numbers – increases in proportion to the amount of productive forces which it sets in motion. That is to say, a proletarian in a large factory is, all other things being equal, a greater social magnitude than a handicraft worker, and an urban worker a greater magnitude than a country worker. In other words, the political role of the proletariat is the more important in proportion as large-scale production dominates small production, industry dominates agriculture and the town dominates the country. If we take the history of Germany or of England in the period when the proletariat of these countries formed the same proportion of the nation as the proletariat now forms in Russia, we shall see that they not only did not play, but by their objective importance could not play, such a role as the Russian proletariat plays today.

The same thing, as we have seen, applies to the role of the towns. When, in Germany, the population of the towns was only 15 per cent of the whole population of the country, as it is in Russia today, there could be no thought of the German towns playing that role in the economic and political life of the country which the Russian towns play today. The concentration of large industrial and commercial institutions in the towns, and the linking of the towns and the provinces by means of a system of railways, has given our towns an importance far exceeding the mere number of their inhabitants ; the growth of their importance has greatly exceeded the growth of their population, while the growth of the population of the towns in its turn has exceeded the natural increase of the population of the country as a whole ... In Italy in 1848 the number of handicraftsmen – not only proletarians but also independent masters – amounted to about 15 per cent of the population, i.e., not less than the proportion of handicraftsmen and proletarians in Russia at the present day. But the role played by them was incomparably less than that played by the modern Russian industrial proletariat.

From what has been said it should be clear that the attempt to define in advance what proportion of the whole population must be proletarian at the moment of the conquest of political power is a fruitless task. Instead of that, we will offer a few rough figures showing the relative numerical strength of the proletariat in the advanced countries at the present time. The occupied population of Germany in 1895 was 20,500,000 (not including the army, state officials and persons without a definite occupation). Out of this number there were 12,500,000 proletarians (including wage-workers in agriculture, industry, commerce and also domestic service) ; the number of agricultural and workers being 10,750,000. Many of the remaining 8,000,000 are really also proletarians, such as workers in domestic industries, working members of the family, etc. The number of wage-workers in agriculture taken separately was 5,750,000. The agricultural population composed 36 per cent of the entire population of the country. These figures, we repeat, refer to 1895. The eleven years that have passed since then have unquestionably produced a tremendous change – in the direction of an increase in the proportion of the urban to the agricultural population (in 1882 the agricultural population was 42 per cent of the whole), an increase in the proportion of the industrial proletariat to the agricultural proletariat, and, finally, an increase in the amount of productive capital per industrial worker as compared with 1895. But even the 1895 figures show that the German proletariat already long ago constituted the dominant productive force in the country.

Belgium, with its 7,000,000 population, is a purely industrial country. Out of every hundred persons engaged in some occupation, 41 are in industry in the strict sense of the word and only 21 are employed in agriculture. Out of the 3,000,000-odd gainfully employed, nearly 1,800,000, i.e., 60 per cent, are proletarians. This figure would become much more expressive if we added to the sharply differentiated proletariat the social elements related to it – the so-called ‘independent' producers who are independent only in form but are actually enslaved to capital, the lower officials, the soldiers, etc.

But first place as regards industrialization of the economy and proletarianization of the population must undoubtedly be accorded to Britain. In 1901 the number of persons employed in agriculture, forestry and fisheries was 2,300,000, while the number in industry, commerce and transport was 12,500,000. We see, therefore, that in the chief European countries the population of the towns predominates numerically over the population of the countryside. But the great predominance of the urban population lies not only in the mass of productive forces that it constitutes, but also in its qualitative personal composition. The town attracts the most energetic, able and intelligent elements of the countryside. To prove this statistically is difficult, although the comparative age composition of the population of town and country provides indirect evidence of it. The latter fact has a significance of its own. In Germany in 1896 there were calculated to be 8,000,000 persons employed in agriculture and 8,000,000 in industry. But if we divide the population according to age-groups, we see that agriculture has 1,000,000 able-bodied persons between the ages of 14 and 40—less than in industry. This shows that it is ‘the old and the young' who pre-eminently remain in the country.

All this leads us to the conclusion that economic evolution – the growth of industry, the growth of large enterprises, the growth of the towns, and the growth of the proletariat in general and the industrial proletariat in particular – has already prepared the arena not only for the struggle of the proletariat for political power but for the conquest of this power.

3. Now we come to the third pre-requisite of socialism, the dictatorship of the proletariat. Politics is the plane upon which the objective pre-requisites of socialism are intersected by the subjective ones. Under certain definite social-economic conditions, a class consciously sets itself a certain aim – the conquest of political power ; it unites its forces, weighs up the strength of the enemy and estimates the situation. Even in this third sphere, however, the proletariat is not absolutely free. Besides the subjective factors – consciousness, preparedness and initiative, the development of which also have their own logic – the proletariat in carrying out its policy comes up against a number of objective factors such as the policy of the ruling classes and the existing State institutions (such as the army, the class schools, the State church), international relations, etc.

We will deal first of all with the subjective conditions : the preparedness of the proletariat for a socialist revolution. It is, of course, not sufficient that the standard of technique has rendered socialist economy advantageous from the point of view of the productivity of social labour. It is not sufficient, either, that the social differentiation based on this technique has created a proletariat which is the main class by virtue of its numbers and its economic role, and which is objectively interested in socialism. It is further necessary that this class should be conscious of its objective interests ; it is necessary that it should understand that there is no way out for it except through socialism ; it is necessary that it should combine in an army sufficiently powerful to conquer political power in open battle.

It would be stupid at the present time to deny the necessity for the proletariat to be prepared in this manner. Only old-fashioned Blanquists can hope for salvation from the initiative of conspiratorial organizations which have taken shape independently of the masses ; or their antipodes, the anarchists, might hope for a spontaneous, elemental outburst of the masses, the end of which no one can tell. Social-Democrats speak of the conquest of power as the conscious action of a revolutionary class.

But many socialist ideologues (ideologues in the bad sense of the word – those who stand everything on its head) speak of preparing the proletariat for socialism in the sense of its being morally regenerated. The proletariat, and even ‘humanity' in general, must first of all cast out its old egoistical nature, and altruism must become predominant in social life, etc. As we are as yet far from such a state of affairs, and ‘human nature' changes very slowly, socialism is put off for several centuries. Such a point of view probably seems very realistic and evolutionary, and so forth, but as a matter of fact it is really nothing but shallow moralizing.

It is assumed that a socialist psychology must be developed before the coming of socialism, in other words that it is possible for the masses to acquire a socialist psychology under capitalism. One must not confuse here the conscious striving towards socialism with socialist psychology. The latter presupposes the absence of egotistical motives in economic life ; whereas the striving towards socialism and the struggle for it arise from the class psychology of the proletariat. However many points of contact there may be between the class psychology of the proletariat and classless socialist psychology, nevertheless a deep chasm divides them.

The joint struggle against exploitation engenders splendid shoots of idealism, comradely solidarity and self-sacrifice, but at the same time the individual struggle for existence, the ever-yawning abyss of poverty, the differentiation in the ranks of the workers themselves, the pressure of the ignorant masses from below, and the corrupting influence of the bourgeois parties do not permit these splendid shoots to develop fully. For all that, in spite of his remaining philistinely egoistic, and without his exceeding in ‘human' worth the average representative of the bourgeois classes, the average worker knows from experience that his simplest requirements and natural desires can be satisfied only on the ruins of the capitalist system.

The idealists picture the distant future generation which shall have become worthy of socialism exactly as Christians picture the members of the first Christian communes.

Whatever the psychology of the first proselytes of Christianity may have been – we know from the Acts of the Apostles of cases of embezzlement of communal property – in any case, as it became more widespread, Christianity not only failed to regenerate the souls of all the people, but itself degenerated, became materialistic and bureaucratic ; from the practice of fraternal teaching one of another it changed into papalism, from wandering beggary into monastic parasitism ; in short, not only did Christianity fail to subject to itself the social conditions of the milieu in which it spread, but it was itself subjected by them. This did not result from the lack of ability or the greed of the fathers and teachers of Christianity, but as a consequence of the inexorable laws of the dependence of human psychology upon the conditions of social life and labour, and the fathers and teachers of Christianity showed this dependence in their own persons.

If socialism aimed at creating a new human nature within the limits of the old society it would be nothing more than a new edition of the moralistic utopias. Socialism does not aim at creating a socialist psychology as a pre-requisite to socialism but at creating socialist conditions of life as a pre-requisite to socialist psychology.
Notes

1. N. Rozhkov, On the Agrarian Question, pp.21 and 22. – L.T.

2. John Bellers was not an MP, but a Quaker landowner, who published his plan in the form of an address to parliament.

3. G. Jaegkh

4. Atlanticus, The State of the Future, published by Dyelo, St. Petersburg 1906, pp.22 and 23. – L.T.

A Workers' Government in Russia and Socialism

We have shown above that the objective pre-requisites for a socialist revolution have already been created by the economic development of the advanced capitalist countries. But what can we say in this connection with regard to Russia ?

Can we expect that the transference of power into the hands of the Russian proletariat will be the beginning of the transformation of our national economy into a socialist one ? A year ago we replied to this question in an article which was subjected to a severe crossfire of criticism by the organs of both factions of our party. In this article we said the following :

‘“The Paris workers,” Marx tells us, “did not demand miracles from their Commune.” We, too, must not expect immediate miracles from proletarian dictatorship today. Political power is not omnipotence. It would be absurd to suppose that it is only necessary for the proletariat to take power and then by passing a few decrees to substitute socialism for capitalism. An economic system is not the product of the actions of the government. All that the proletariat can do is to apply its political power with all possible energy in order to ease and shorten the path of economic evolution towards collectivism.

‘The proletariat will begin with those reforms which figure in what is known as the minimum programme ; and directly from these the very logic of its position will compel it to pass over to collectivist measures.

‘The introduction of the eight-hour day and the steeply progressive income-tax will be comparatively easy, although even here the centre of gravity will lie not in the passing of the “act” but in organizing the practical carrying out of the measures. But the chief difficulty will be – and herein lies the transition to collectivism ! – in the state organization of production in those factories which have been closed by their owners in reply to the passing of these acts. To pass a law for the abolition of the right of inheritance and to put such a law into effect will be a comparatively easy task. Legacies in the form of money capital also will not embarrass the proletariat or burden its economy. But to act as the inheritor of land and industrial capital means that the workers' state must be prepared to undertake the organizing of social production.

‘The same thing, but to a wider degree, must be said of expropriation – with or without compensation. Expropriation with compensation would be politically advantageous but financially difficult, whereas expropriation without compensation would be financially advantageous but politically difficult. But the greatest difficulties of all will be met within the organization of production. We repeat, a government of the proletariat is not a government that can perform miracles.

‘The socialization of production will commence with those branches of industry which present the least difficulties. In the first period, socialized production will be like a number of eases, connected with private undertakings by the laws of commodity circulation. The wider the field of social production becomes extended, the more obvious will become its advantages, the firmer will the new political regime feel, and the bolder will the further economic measures of the proletariat become. In these measures it can and will rely not merely upon the national productive forces, but also upon the technique of the whole world, just as in its revolutionary policy it will rely on the experience not only of the class relations within the country but also on the whole historical experience of the international proletariat.'

The political domination of the proletariat is incompatible with its economic enslavement. No matter under what political flag the proletariat has come to power, it is obliged to take the path of socialist policy. It would be the greatest utopianism to think that the proletariat, having been raised to political domination by the internal mechanism of a bourgeois revolution, can, even if it so desires, limit its mission to the creation of republican-democratic conditions for the social domination of the bourgeoisie. The political domination of the proletariat, even if it is only temporary, will weaken to an extreme degree the resistance of capital, which always stands in need of the support of the state, and will give the economic struggle of the proletariat tremendous scope. The workers cannot but demand maintenance for strikers from the revolutionary government, and a government relying upon the workers cannot refuse this demand. But this means paralyzing the effect of the reserve army of labour and making the workers dominant not only in the political but also in the economic field, and converting private property in the means of production into a fiction. These inevitable social-economic consequences of proletarian dictatorship will reveal themselves very quickly, long before the democratization of the political system has been completed. The barrier between the ‘minimum' and the ‘maximum' programme disappears immediately the proletariat comes to power.

The first thing the proletarian regime must deal with on coming into power is the solution of the agrarian question, with which the fate of vast masses of the population of Russia is bound up. In the solution of this question, as in all others, the proletariat will be guided by the fundamental aim of its economic policy, i.e., to command as large as possible a field in which to carry out the organization of socialist economy. The form and tempo of the execution of this agrarian policy, however, must be determined by the material resources at the disposal of the proletariat, as well as by care to act so as not to throw possible aIlies into the ranks of the counter-revolutionaries.

The agrarian question, i.e., the question of the fate of agriculture in its social relations, is not, of course, exhausted by the land question, i.e., the question of forms of landownership. There is no doubt, however, that the solution of the land question, even if it does not predetermine agrarian evolution, will at least predetermine the agrarian policy of the proletariat : in other words, what the proletarian regime does with the land must be closely connected with its general attitude to the course and the requirements of agricultural development. For that reason the land question occupies first place.

One solution of the land question, to which the Socialist-Revolutionaries have given a far from irreproachable popularity, is the socialization of all land ; a term, which, relieved of its European make-up, means nothing else than the ‘equalization of the use of land' (or ‘black redistribution'). The programme of the equal distribution of the land thus presupposes the expropriation of all land, not only privately-owned land in general, or privately-owned peasant land, but even communal land. If we bear in mind that this expropriation would have to be one of the first acts of the new regime, while commodity-capitalist relations were still completely dominant, then we shall see that the first ‘victims' of this expropriation would be (or rather, would feel themselves to be) the peasantry. If we bear in mind that the peasant, during several decades, has paid the redemption money which should have converted the allotted land into his own private property ; if we bear in mind that some of the more well-to-do of the peasants have acquired – undoubtedly by making considerable sacrifices, borne by a still-existing generation – large tracts of land as private property, then it will be easily imagined what a tremendous resistance would be aroused by the attempt to convert communal and small-scale privately-owned lands into state property. If it acted in such a fashion the new regime would begin by rousing a tremendous opposition against itself among the peasantry.

For what purpose should communal and small-scale privately-owned land be converted into state property ? In order, in one way or another, to make it available for ‘equal' economic exploitation by all landowners, including the present landless peasants and agricultural labourers. Thus, the new regime would gain nothing economically by the expropriation of small holdings and communal land, since, after the redistribution, the state or public lands would be cultivated as private holdings. Politically, the new regime would make a very big blunder, as it would at once set the mass of the peasantry against the town proletariat as the leader of the revolutionary policy.

Further, equal distribution of the land presupposes that the employment of hired labour will be prohibited by law. The abolition of wage labour can and must be a consequence of economic reform, but it cannot be predetermined by juridical prohibition. It is not sufficient to forbid the capitalist landlord to employ wage-labour, it is necessary first of all to secure for the landless labourer the possibility of existence – and a rational existence from the social-economic point of view. Under the programme of equalization of the use of land, forbidding the employment of wage labour will mean, on the one hand, compelling the landless labourers to settle on tiny scraps of land and, on the other, obliging the government to provide them with the necessary stock and implements for their socially-irrational production.

It is of course understood that the intervention of the proletariat in the organization of agriculture will begin not by binding scattered labourers to scattered patches of land, but with the exploitation of large estates by the State or the communes. Only when the socialization of production has been placed well on its feet can the process of socialization be advanced further, towards the prohibition of hired labour. This will render small capitalist farming impossible, but will still leave room for subsistence or semi-subsistence holdings, the forcible expropriation of which in no way enters into the plans of the socialist proletariat.

In any case, we cannot undertake to carry out a programme of equal distribution which, on the one hand, presupposes an aimless, purely formal expropriation of small holdings, and on the other, demands the complete break-up of large estates into small pieces. This policy, being directly wasteful from the economic standpoint, could only have a reactionary-utopian ulterior motive, and above all would politically weaken the revolutionary party.

But how far can the socialist policy of the working class be applied in the economic conditions of Russia ? We can say one thing with certainty – that it will come up against political obstacles much sooner than it will stumble over the technical backwardness of the country. Without the direct State support of the European proletariat the working class of Russia cannot remain in power and convert its temporary domination into a lasting socialistic dictatorship. Of this there cannot for one moment be any doubt. But on the other hand there cannot be any doubt that a socialist revolution in the West will enable us directly to convert the temporary domination of the working class into a socialist dictatorship.

In 1904, Kautsky, discussing the prospects of social development and calculating the possibility of an early revolution in Russia, wrote : ‘Revolution in Russia could not immediately result in a socialist regime. The economic conditions of the country are not nearly mature for this purpose.' But the Russian revolution would certainly give a strong impetus to the proletarian movement in the rest of Europe, and in consequence of the struggle that would flare up, the proletariat might come to power in Germany. ‘Such an outcome,' continued Kautsky, ‘must have an influence on the whole of Europe. It must lead to the political domination of the proletariat in Western Europe and create for the Eastern European proletariat the possibility of contracting the stages of their development and, copying the example of the Germans, artificially setting up socialist institutions. Society as a whole cannot artificially skip any stages of its development, but it is possible for constituent parts of society to hasten their retarded development by imitating the more advanced countries and, thanks to this, even to take their stand in the forefront of development, because they are not burdened with the ballast of tradition which the older countries have to drag along ... This may happen,' says Kautsky, ‘but, as we have already said, here we leave the field of inevitability and enter that of possibility, and so things may happen otherwise.'

These lines were written by this German Social-Democratic theoretician at a time when he was considering the question whether a revolution would break out first in Russia or in the West. Later on, the Russian proletariat revealed a colossal strength, unexpected by the Russian Social-Democrats even in their most optimistic moods. The course of the Russian revolution was decided, so far as its fundamental features were concerned. What two or three years ago was or seemed possible, approached to the probable, and everything points to the fact that it is on the brink of becoming inevitable.

Europe and Revolution

In June 1905 we wrote :

‘More than half a century has passed since 1848, half a century of unceasing conquests by capitalism throughout the whole world ; half a century of mutual adaptation between the forces of bourgeois reaction and of feudal reaction ; half a century during which the bourgeoisie has revealed its mad lust for domination and its readiness to fight savagely for this.

‘Just as a seeker after perpetual motion comes up against ever fresh obstacles, and piles up machine after machine for the purpose of overcoming them, so the bourgeoisie has changed and reconstructed its state apparatus while avoiding “extra-legal” conflict with the forces hostile to it. But just as our seeker after perpetual motion eventually comes up against the final insurmountable obstacle of the law of the conservation of energy, so the bourgeoisie must eventually come up against the final insurmountable obstacle in its path : the class antagonism, which will inevitably be settled by conflict.

‘Binding all countries together with its mode of production and its commerce, capitalism has converted the whole world into a single economic and political organism. Just as modern credit binds thousands of undertakings by invisible ties and gives to capital an incredible mobility which prevents many small bankruptcies but at the same time is the cause of the unprecedented sweep of general economic crises, so the whole economic and political effort of capitalism, its world trade, its system of monstrous state debts, and the political groupings of nations which draw all the forces of reaction into a kind of world-wide joint-stock company, has not only resisted all individual political crises, but also prepared the basis for a social crisis of unheard-of dimensions. Driving all the processes of disease beneath the surface, avoiding all difficulties, putting off all the profound questions of internal and international politics, and glossing over all contradictions, the bourgeoisie has managed to postpone the denouement, but thereby has prepared a radical liquidation of its rule on a world-wide scale. The bourgeoisie has greedily clutched at every reactionary force without inquiring as to its origin. The Pope and the Sultan were not the least of its friends. The only reason why it did not establish bonds of “friendship” with the Emperor of China was because he did not represent any force. It was much more advantageous for the bourgeoisie to plunder his dominions than to maintain him in its service as its gendarme, paying him out of its own coffers. We thus see that the world bourgeoisie has made the stability of its State system profoundly dependent on the unstable pre-bourgeois bulwarks of reaction.

‘This immediately gives the events now unfolding an international character, and opens up a wide horizon. The political emancipation of Russia led by the working class will raise that class to a height as yet unknown in history, will transfer to it colossal power and resources, and will make it the initiator of the liquidation of world capitalism, for which history has created all the objective conditions.' [1]

If the Russian proletariat, having temporarily obtained power, does not on its own initiative carry the revolution on to European soil, it will be compelled to do so by the forces of European feudal-bourgeois reaction. Of course it would be idle at this moment to determine the methods by which the Russian revolution will throw itself against old capitalist Europe. These methods may reveal themselves quite unexpectedly. Let us take the example of Poland as a link between the revolutionary East and the revolutionary West, although we take this as an illustration of our idea rather than as an actual prediction.

The triumph of the revolution in Russia will mean the inevitable victory of the revolution in Poland. It is not difficult to imagine that the existence of a revolutionary regime in the ten provinces of Russian Poland must lead to the revolt of Galicia and Poznan. The Hohenzollern and Habsburg Governments will reply to this by sending military forces to the Polish frontier in order then to cross it for the purpose of crushing their enemy at his very centre – Warsaw. It is quite clear that the Russian revolution cannot leave its Western advance-guard in the hands of the Prusso-Austrian soldiery. War against the governments of Wilhelm II and Franz Josef under such circumstances would become an act of self-defence on the part of the revolutionary government of Russia. What attitude would the Austrian and German proletariat take up then ? It is evident that they could not remain calm while the armies of their countries were conducting a counterrevolutionary crusade. A war between feudal-bourgeois Germany and revolutionary Russia would lead inevitably to a proletarian revolution in Germany. We would tell those to whom this assertion seems too categorical to try and think of any other historical event which would be more likely to compel the German workers and the German reactionaries to make an open trial of strength.

When our October ministry unexpectedly placed Poland under martial law, a highly plausible rumour went round to the effect that this was done on direct instructions from Berlin. On the eve of the dispersal of the Duma the government newspapers published, presenting them as threats, communications concerning negotiations between the governments of Berlin and Vienna with a view to armed intervention in the internal affairs of Russia, for the purpose of suppressing sedition. No ministerial denial of any sort could wipe out the effect of the shock which this communication gave. It was clear that in the palaces of three neighbouring countries a bloody counter-revolutionary revenge was being prepared. How could things be otherwise ? Could the neighbouring semi-feudal monarchies stand passively by while the flames of revolution licked the frontiers of their realms ?

The Russian revolution, while as yet far from being victorious, had already had its effect on Galicia through Poland. ‘Who could have foreseen a year ago', cried Daszynski, at the conference of the Polish Social-Democratic Party in Lvov in May this year, ‘what is now taking place in Galicia ? This great peasant movement has spread astonishment throughout the whole of Austria. Zbaraz elects a Social-Democrat as vice-marshal of the regional council. Peasants publish a socialist-revolutionary newspaper for peasants, entitled The Red Flag, great mass meetings of peasants, 30,000 strong, are held, processions with red flags and revolutionary songs parade through Galician villages, once so calm and apathetic ... What will happen when from Russia the cry of the nationalization of the land reaches these poverty-stricken peasants ?'. In his argument with the Polish Socialist Lusnia, more than two years ago, Kautsky pointed out that Russia must no longer be regarded as a weighted ball on the feet of Poland, or Poland regarded as an Eastern detachment of revolutionary Europe thrust like a wedge into the steppes of Muscovite barbarism. In the event of the development and the victory of the Russian revolution, the Polish question, according to Kautsky, ‘will again become acute, but not in the sense that Lusnia thought. It will be directed not against Russia but against Austria and Germany, and in so far as Poland will serve the cause of revolution its task will be not to defend the revolution against Russia, but to carry it further into Austria and Germany'. This prophecy is much nearer realization than Kautsky may have thought.

But a revolutionary Poland is not at all the only starting-point for a revolution in Europe. We pointed out above that the bourgeoisie has systematically abstained from solving many complex and acute questions affecting both internal and foreign politics. Having placed huge masses of men under arms, the bourgeois governments are unable, however, to cut with the sword through the tangle of international politics. Only a government which has the backing of the nation whose vital interests are affected, or a government that has lost the ground from under its feet and is inspired by the courage of despair, can send hundreds and thousands of men into battle. Under modern conditions of political culture, military science, universal suffrage and universal military service, only profound confidence or crazy adventurism can thrust two nations into conflict. In the Franco-Prussian war of 1870 we had on the one side Bismarck struggling for the Prussianizing of Germany, which after all meant national unity, an elementary necessity recognized by every German, and on the other hand the government of Napoleon III, impudent, powerless, despised by the nation, ready for any adventure that promised to secure for it another 12 months' lease of life. The same division of roles obtained in the Russo-Japanese war. On the one hand we had the government of the Mikado, as yet unopposed by a revolutionary proletariat, fighting for the domination of Japanese capital in the Far East, and on the other an autocratic government which had outlived its time striving to redeem its internal defeats by victories abroad.

In the old capitalist countries there are no ‘national' demands, i.e., demands of bourgeois society as a whole, of which the ruling bourgeoisie could claim to be the champions. The governments of France, Britain, Germany and Austria are unable to conduct national wars. The vital interests of the masses, the interests of the oppressed nationalities, or the barbarous internal politics of a neighbouring country are not able to drive a single bourgeois government into a war which could have a liberating and therefore a national character. On the other hand, the interests of capitalist grabbing, which from time to time induce now one and now another government to clank its spurs and rattle its sabre in the face of the world, cannot arouse any response among the masses. For that reason the bourgeoisie either cannot or will not proclaim or conduct any national wars. What modern anti-national wars will lead to has been seen recently from two experiences – in South Africa and in the Far East.

The severe defeat of imperialist Conservatism in Britain is not in the last resort due to the lesson of the Boer war ; a much more important and more menacing consequence of imperialist policy (menacing to the bourgeoisie) is the political self-determination of the British proletariat, which, once begun, will advance with seven-league strides. As for the consequences of the Russo-Japanese war for the Petrograd Government, these are so well known that it is not necessary to dwell on them. But even without these two experiences, European governments, from the moment the proletariat began to stand on its own feet, have always feared to place before it the choice of war or revolution. It is precisely this fear of the revolt of the proletariat that compels the bourgeois parties, even while voting monstrous sums for military expenditure, to make solemn declarations in favour of peace, to dream of International Arbitration Courts and even of the organization of a United States of Europe. These pitiful declarations can, of course, abolish neither antagonisms between states nor armed conflicts.

The armed peace which arose in Europe after the Franco-Prussian War was based on a European balance of power which presupposed not only the inviolability of Turkey, the partition of Poland and the preservation of Austria, that ethnographical harlequin's cloak, but also the maintenance of Russian despotism, armed to the teeth, as the gendarme of European reaction. The Russo-Japanese war, however, delivered a severe blow to this artificially maintained system in which the autocracy occupied a foremost position. Russia for a time fell out of the so-called concert of powers. The balance of power was destroyed. On the other hand, Japan's successes aroused the aggressive instincts of the capitalist bourgeoisie, especially the stock exchanges, which play a very big part in contemporary politics. The possibility of a war on European territory grew to a very high degree. Conflicts are ripening everywhere, and if up till now they have been allayed by diplomatic means, there is no guarantee, however, that these means can be successful for long. But a European war inevitably means a European revolution.

During the Russo-Japanese war the Socialist Party of France declared that if the French Government intervened in favour of the autocracy, it would call upon the proletariat to take most resolute measures, even to the extent of revolt. In March 1906, when the Franco-German conflict over Morocco was coming to a head, the International Socialist Bureau resolved, in the event of a danger of war, to ‘lay down the most advantageous methods of action for all international socialist parties and for the whole organized working class in order to prevent war or bring it to an end'. Of course this was only a resolution. It requires a war to test its real significance, but the bourgeoisie has every reason to avoid such a test. Unfortunately for the bourgeoisie, however, the logic of international relations is stronger than the logic of diplomacy.

The State bankruptcy of Russia, no matter whether it be the result of the continued management of affairs by the bureaucracy or whether it be declared by a revolutionary government which will refuse to pay for the sins of the old regime, will have a terrible effect upon France. The Radicals, who now have the political destiny of France in their hands, in taking power have also undertaken all the functions of protecting the interests of capital. For that reason there is every ground for assuming that the financial crisis arising from the bankruptcy of Russia will directly repeat itself in France in the form of an acute political crisis which can end only with the transference of power into the hands of the proletariat. In one way or another, either through a revolution in Poland, through the consequences of a European war, or as the result of the State bankruptcy of Russia, revolution will cross into the territories of old capitalist Europe.

But even without the outside pressure of events such as war or bankruptcy, revolution may arise in the near future in one of the European countries as a consequence of the extreme sharpening of the class struggle. We will not attempt to build assumptions now as to which of the European countries will be the first to take the path of revolution ; of one thing there is no doubt, and that is that the class contradictions in all European countries during recent times have reached a high level of intensity.

The colossal growth of Social Democracy in Germany, within the framework of a semi-absolutist constitution, will with iron necessity lead the proletariat to an open clash with the feudal-bourgeois monarchy. The question of offering resistance to a political coup d'etat by means of a general strike has in the last year become one of the central questions in the political life of the German proletariat. In France, the transition of power to the Radicals decisively unties the hands of the proletariat, which were for a long time bound by co-operation with the bourgeois parties in the struggle against nationalism and clericalism. The Socialist Party, rich in the deathless traditions of four revolutions, and the conservative bourgeoisie, screening themselves behind the mask of Radicalism, stand face to face. In Britain, where for a century the two bourgeois parties have been regularly operating the see-saw of parliamentarism, the proletariat under the influence of a whole series of factors have just recently taken the path of political separation. While in Germany this process took four decades, the British working class, possessing powerful trade unions and being rich in experience of economic struggle, may in a few leaps overtake the army of continental socialism.

The influence of the Russian revolution upon the European proletariat is tremendous. Besides destroying Russian absolutism, the main force of European reaction, it will create the necessary prerequisites for revolution in the consciousness and temper of the European working class.

The function of the socialist parties was and is to revolutionize the consciousness of the working class, just as the development of capitalism revolutionized social relations. But the work of agitation and organization among the ranks of the proletariat has an internal inertia. The European Socialist Parties, particularly the largest of them, the German Social-Democratic Party, have developed their conservatism in proportion as the great masses have embraced socialism and the more these masses have become organized and disciplined. As a consequence of this, Social Democracy as an organization embodying the political experience of the proletariat may at a certain moment become a direct obstacle to open conflict between the workers and bourgeois reaction. In other words, the propagandist-socialist conservatism of the proletarian parties may at a certain moment hold back the direct struggle of the proletariat for power. The tremendous influence of the Russian revolution indicates that it will destroy party routine and conservatism, and place the question of an open trial of strength between the proletariat and capitalist reaction on the order of the day. The struggle for universal suffrage in Austria, Saxony and Prussia has become acute under the direct influence of the October strikes in Russia. The revolution in the East will infect the Western proletariat with a revolutionary idealism and rouse a desire to speak to their enemies ‘in Russian'. Should the Russian proletariat find itself in power, if only as the result of a temporary conjuncture of circumstances in our bourgeois revolution, it will encounter the organized hostility of world reaction, and on the other hand will find a readiness on the part of the world proletariat to give organized support.

Left to its own resources, the working class of Russia will inevitably be crushed by the counter-revolution the moment the peasantry turns its back on it. It will have no alternative but to link the fate of its political rule, and, hence, the fate of the whole Russian revolution, with the fate of the socialist revolution in Europe. That colossal state-political power given it by a temporary conjuncture of circumstances in the Russian bourgeois revolution it will cast into the scales of the class struggle of the entire capitalist world. With state power in its hands, with counter-revolution behind it and European reaction in front of it, it will send forth to its comrades the world over the old rallying cry, which this time will be a call for the last attack : Workers of all countries, unite !
Notes

1. See my foreword to F. Lassalle's Address To the Jury, published by Molot. – L.T.

The Struggle for Power [1]

We have before us a leaflet on our programme and tactics entitled : The Tasks Confronting the Russian Proletariat – A Letter to Comrades in Russia. This document is signed by P. Axelrod, Astrov, A. Martynov, L. Martov and S. Semkovsky.

The problem of the revolution is outlined in this ‘letter' in very general fashion, clarity and precision disappearing in proportion as the authors turn from describing the situation created by the war to the political prospects and tactical conclusions ; the very terminology becomes diffuse and the social definitions ambiguous.

Two moods seem from abroad to prevail in Russia : in the first place, concern for national defence – from the Romanovs to Plekhanov – and secondly, universal discontent – from the oppositional bureaucratic Fronde to the outbreaks of street rioting. These two pervading moods also create an illusion of a future popular freedom which is to arise out of the cause of national defence. But these two moods are in large measure responsible for the indefiniteness with which the question of ‘popular revolution' is presented, even when it is formally counterposed to ‘national defence'.

The war itself, with its defeats, has not created the revolutionary problem nor any revolutionary forces for its solution. History for us does not commence with the surrender of Warsaw to the Prince of Bavaria. Both the revolutionary contradictions and the social forces are the same as those which we first encountered in 1905, only very considerably modified by the ensuing ten years. The war has merely revealed in a mechanically graphic way the objective bankruptcy of the regime. At the same time it has brought confusion into the social consciousness, in which ‘everybody' seems infected with the desire to resist Hindenburg as well as with hatred towards the regime of 3rd June. But as the organization of a ‘people's war' from the very first moment comes up against the Tsarist police, thereby revealing that the Russia of 3rd June is a fact, and that a ‘people's war' is a fiction, so the approach to a ‘people's revolution' at the very threshold comes up against the socialist police of Plekhanov, whom, together with his entire suite, one might regard as a fiction if behind him there did not stand Kerensky, Milyukov, Guchkov and in general the non-revolutionary and anti-revolutionary national-democrats and national-liberals.

The ‘letter' cannot of course ignore the class division of the nation, or that the nation must by means of revolution save itself from the consequences of the war and the present regime. ‘The nationalists and Octobrists, the progressists, the Cadets, the industrialists and even part (!) of the radical intelligentsia proclaim with one voice the inability of the bureaucracy to defend the country and demand the mobilization of social forces for the cause of defence ...' The letter draws the correct conclusion regarding the anti-revolutionary character of this position, which assumes ‘unity with the present rulers of Russia, with the bureaucrats, nobles and generals, in the cause of defence of the State'. The letter also correctly points out the anti-revolutionary position of ‘bourgeois patriots of all shades' ; and we may add, of the social-patriots, of whom the letter makes no mention at all.

From this we must draw the conclusion that the Social-Democrats are not merely the most logical revolutionary party but that they are the only revolutionary party in the country ; that, side by side with them, there are not only groups which are less resolute in the application of revolutionary methods, but also non-revolutionary parties. In other words, that the Social- Democratic Party, in its revolutionary way of presenting problems, is quite isolated in the open political arena, in spite of the ‘universal discontent'. This first conclusion must be very carefully taken into account.

Of course, parties are not classes. Between the position of a party and the interests of the social stratum upon which it rests, there may be a certain lack of harmony which later on may become converted into a profound contradiction. The conduct of a party may change under the influence of the temper of the masses. This is indisputable. All the more reason therefore for us, in our calculations, to cease relying on less stable and less trustworthy elements such as the slogans and tactics of a party, and to refer to more stable historical factors : to the social structure of the nation, to the relation of class forces and the tendencies of development.

Yet the authors of the ‘letter' completely avoid these questions. What is this ‘people's revolution' in the Russia of 1915 ? Our authors simply tell us that it ‘must' be made by the proletariat and the democracy. We know what the proletariat is, but what is ‘the democracy' ? Is it a political party ? From what has been said above, evidently not. Is it then the masses ? What masses ? Evidently it is the petty industrial and commercial bourgeoisie, the intelligentsia and the peasantry – it can only be of these that they are speaking.

In a series of articles entitled ‘The War Crisis and Political Prospects' we have given a general estimation of the possible revolutionary significance of these social forces. Basing ourselves on the experience of the last revolution, we inquired into the changes which the last ten years have brought about in the relation of forces that obtained in 1905 : have these been in favour of democracy (the bourgeoisie) or against it ? This is the central historical question in judging the prospects of the revolution and the tactics of the proletariat. Has bourgeois democracy in Russia become stronger since 1905, or has it still further declined ? All our former discussions centred round the question of the fate of bourgeois democracy, and those who are still unable to give a reply to this question are groping in the dark. We reply to this question by saying that a national bourgeois revolution is impossible in Russia because there is no genuinely revolutionary bourgeois democracy. The time for national revolutions has passed – at least for Europe – just as the time for national wars has passed. Between the one and the other there is an inherent connection. We are living in an epoch of imperialism which is not merely a system of colonial conquests but implies also a definite regime at home. It does not set the bourgeois nation in opposition to the old regime, but sets the proletariat in opposition to the bourgeois nation.

The petty-bourgeois artisans and traders already played an insignificant role in the revolution of 1905. There is no question that the social importance of this class has declined still further during the last ten years. Capitalism in Russia deals much more radically and severely with the intermediate classes than it does in the countries with an older economic development. The intelligentsia has undoubtedly grown numerically, and its economic role also has increased. But at the same time even its former illusory ‘independence' has entirely disappeared. The social significance of the intelligentsia is wholly determined by its functions in organizing capitalist industry and bourgeois public opinion. Its material connection with capitalism has saturated it with imperialist tendencies. As already quoted, the ‘letter' says, ‘even part of the radical intelligentsia ... demands the mobilization of social forces for the cause of defence'. This is absolutely untrue ; not a part, but the whole of the radical intelligentsia ; in fact, one should say, not only the whole radical section, but a considerable, if not the greater part of the socialist intelligentsia. We shall hardly increase the ranks of ‘democracy' by painting-up the character of the intelligentsia.

Thus the industrial and commercial bourgeoisie has declined still further while the intelligentsia have abandoned their revolutionary position. Urban democracy as a revolutionary factor is not worth mentioning. Only the peasantry remains, but as far as we know, neither Axelrod nor Martov ever set great hopes upon its independent revolutionary role. Have they come to the conclusion that the unceasing class differentiation among the peasantry during the last ten years has increased this role ? Such a supposition would be flying in the face of all theoretical conclusions and all historical experience.

But in that case, what kind of ‘democracy' does the letter mean ? And in what sense do they speak of ‘people's revolution' ?

The slogan of a constituent assembly presupposes a revolutionary situation. Is there one ? Yes, there is, but it is not in the least expressed in the supposed birth, at last, of a bourgeois democracy which is alleged to be now ready and able to settle accounts with Tsarism. On the contrary, if there is anything that this war has revealed quite clearly, it is the absence of a revolutionary democracy in the country.

The attempt of the Russia of 3rd June to solve the internal revolutionary problems by the path of imperialism has resulted in an obvious fiasco. This does not mean that the responsible or semi-responsible parties of the 3rd June regime will take the path of revolution, but it does mean that the revolutionary problem laid bare by the military catastrophe, which will drive the ruling class still further along the path of imperialism, doubles the importance of the only revolutionary class in the country.

The bloc of 3rd June is shaken, rent by internal friction and conflict. This does not mean that the Octobrists and Cadets are considering the revolutionary problem of power and preparing to storm the positions of the bureaucracy and the united nobility. But it does mean that the government's power to resist revolutionary pressure undoubtedly has been weakened for a certain period.

The monarchy and the bureaucracy are discredited, but this does not mean that they will give up power without a fight. The dispersal of the Duma and the latest ministerial changes showed whoever needed showing how far from the facts this supposition is. But the policy of bureaucratic instability, which will develop still further, should greatly assist the revolutionary mobilization of the proletariat by the Social Democrats.

The lower classes of the towns and villages will become more and more exhausted, deceived, dissatisfied and enraged. This does not mean that an independent force of revolutionary democracy will operate side by side with the proletariat. For such a force there is neither social material nor leading personnel ; but it undoubtedly does mean that the deep dissatisfaction of the lower classes will assist the revolutionary pressure of the working class.

The less the proletariat waits upon the appearance of bourgeois democracy, the less it adapts itself to the passivity and limitations of the petty bourgeoisie and peasantry, the more resolute and irreconcilable its fight becomes, the more obvious becomes its preparedness to go to ‘the end', i.e., to the conquest of power, the greater will be its chances at the decisive moment of carrying with it the non-proletarian masses. Nothing, of course, will be accomplished by merely putting forward mere slogans such as ‘for the confiscation of land', etc. This to a still greater extent applies to the army, by which the government stands or falls. The mass of the army will only incline towards the revolutionary class when it becomes convinced that it is not merely grumbling and demonstrating, but is fighting for power and has some chances of winning it. There is an objective revolutionary problem in the country – the problem of political power – which has been glaringly revealed by the war and the defeats. There is a progressive disorganization of the ruling class. There is a growing dissatisfaction among the urban and rural masses. But the only revolutionary factor which can take advantage of this situation is the proletariat – now to an incomparably greater degree than in 1905.

The ‘letter' would appear, in one phrase, to approach this central point of the question. It says that the Russian Social-Democratic workers should take ‘the lead in this national struggle for the overthrow of the monarchy of 3rd June'. What ‘national' struggle may mean we have just indicated. But if ‘take the lead' does not merely mean that the advanced workers should magnanimously shed their blood without asking themselves for what purpose, but means that the workers must take the political leadership of the whole struggle, which above all will be a proletarian struggle, then it is clear that victory in this struggle must transfer power to the class that has led the struggle, i.e, the Social-Democratic proletariat.

The question, therefore, is not simply one of a ‘revolutionary provisional government' – an empty phrase to which the historical process will have to give some kind of content, but of a revolutionary workers' government, the conquest of power by the Russian proletariat. The demands for a national constituent assembly, a republic, an eight-hour day, the confiscation of the land of the landlords, together with the demands for the immediate cessation of the war, the right of nations to self-determination, and a United States of Europe will play a tremendous part in the agitational role of the Social Democrats. But revolution is first and foremost a question of power – not of the state form (constituent assembly, republic, united states) but of the social content of the government. The demands for a constituent assembly and the confiscation of land under present conditions lose all direct revolutionary significance without the readiness of the proletariat to fight for the conquest of power ; for if the proletariat does not tear power out of the hands of the monarchy nobody else will do so.

The tempo of the revolutionary process is a special question. It depends upon a number of military and political, national and international factors. These factors may retard or hasten developments, facilitate the revolutionary victory or lead to another defeat. But whatever the conditions may be the proletariat must clearly see its path and take it consciously. Above everything else it must be free from illusions. And the worst illusion in all its history from which the proletariat has up till now suffered has always been reliance upon others.
Notes

1. From Nashe Slovo (Paris), October 17, 1915. – L.T.

Read the text :

https://www.marxists.org/archive/trotsky/1931/tpr/rp-index.htm

In 1924, Stalin was against using the same strategy in Germany !

https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/stalin/works/1924/12.htm

Avril 1906 : ЧЕТВЕРТЫЙ (ОБЪЕДИНИТЕЛЬНЫЙ) СЪЕЗД РСДРП - Rosa Luxemburg adhère au parti de Lénine, le POSDR

Alex — 2025-07-06T22:46:00Z

Nous donnons le texte original de la résolution 8 du 4 ème Congrès (d'unification) du POSDR qui eut lieu à Stockholm en 1906, avec sa traduction en français que l'on trouve dans les oeuvres complètes de Lénine (tome 10), car la résolution adoptée était une proposition rédigée par Lénine en mars 1906. Le texte original d'autres résolutions est également donné.

Parmi les 11 résolutions adoptées à ce congrès, les numéro 8 et 11 ont une importance particulière concernant l'organisation interne du parti.

Concrètement, Rosa Luxemburg devient membre du même parti que Lénine, et deux de ses camarades entrent au comité central, alors que le principe du centralisme démocratique est officialisé : "le principe du centralisme démocratique dans le parti est à l'heure actuelle reconnu par tout le monde " (résolution 11).

Ce fait est souvent passé sous silence dans les biographies, ou dans les oeuvres de Lénine publiées par les Staliniens, les socio-démocrates, tous ceux qui veulent faire de Rosa Luxemburg une anti-Lénine, opposée au centralisme démocratique.

Les organisations nationales (Bund pour le prolétariat juif), SDKPiL (prolétariat du Royaume de Pologne et de Lituanie de toutes les nationalités), adhèrent au POSDR, alors qu'en 1903, leur adhésion avait été refusée, soit par eux (SDKPiL) soit par le POSDR (le Bund).

En juillet 1903 Rosa Luxemburg avait demandé aux deux délégués (Hanecki et Warski) de son parti le SDKPiL de quitter le congrès, officiellement pour des questions d'organisation, officieusement sur la question nationale : voir cette lettre et cette dépêche.

En avril 1906, Rosa Luxemburg prend donc la décision contraire, et adhère au POSDR.

En avril 1906, Rosa Luxemburg est donc bien dans le même parti que Lénine et Trotsky (et bien d'autres), à travers son parti SDKPiL qui en devient une section nationale, plus précisément territoriale (la SDKPiL s'adresse aux Polonais, aux Russes, à tous les ouvriers sur le territoire du Royaume de Pologne, alors que le Bund, nationaliste, ne s'adressait qu'aux Juifs).

C'est la vague révolutionnaire de 1905 qui aplanit les différends, la base souhaite que le parti s'unifie. Mais c'est également un compromis de la part des mencheviks et bolcheviks du POSDR, qui acceptent que des organisations nationales soient incluses dans le POSDR sous la forme d'une fédération, ce qui est un mode d'organisation plutôt opportuniste (des sections du parti font ce qu'elles veulent dans leur coin). On lit dans la résolution que Lénine souhaite aller vers une fusion complète, ce que Rosa Luxemburg ne voudra pas.

Mais l'aspect de cette adhésion qui ici nous intéresse le plus est que de 1906 à 1911, Rosa Luxemburg et Lénine sont dans le même parti, sur la base du centralisme démocratique !

Cela ne change pas grand-chose sur le fond à propos des désaccords ente Lénine et Luxemburg, mais il ne faut pas oublier qu'il s'agit de discussions entre deux dirigeants d'un même parti !

De plus, aujourd'hui encore en Pologne, RL est dénoncée quasi-officiellement comme une stalinienne, et un argument "populaire" est que c'est grâce à RL que Lénine et les bolchéviks devinrent majoritaires dans le POSDR, ce qui n'est pas faux, ce qui conduisit au stalinisme, ce qui est faux.

Dans les Oeuvres complètes de Lénine, c'est en remplaçant quasi-systématiquement "Rosa Luxemburg" par "des Polonais" que les éditeurs ont masqué la contribution de RL au bolchévisme.

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les délégués bolchéviks au congrès :

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les délégués mencheviks, Polonais, Bundistes et Lettons, (en bas à gauche les 3 Polonais : Dzerjinski, Warski et Hanecki, les deux derniers assassinés par Staline en 1937). Lors de la scission du SDKPiL en 1911, Hanecki restera dans le POSDR :

*****

Cet épisode fait mal au coeur à Wikipedia, qui décide donc de pas mentionner que RL appartient à partir d'avril 1906 au parti de Lénine et Martov, avec le Bund :

À la suite du Dimanche rouge, le 22 janvier 1905 à Saint-Pétersbourg, la révolution éclate en Russie. Leo Jogiches quitte en février Berlin pour Cracovie, où il fonde une nouvelle publication de la SDKPiL. Il se rend ensuite à Varsovie pour y négocier une alliance avec le Bund, ce que Rosa Luxemburg, hostile à l'idéologie nationaliste des militants juifs, désapprouve vivement. Rosa Luxemburg rejoint temporairement Jogiches à Cracovie durant l'été, rejoint l'Allemagne, puis regagne à nouveau Varsovie en décembre, sous une fausse identité, pour y participer au mouvement insurrectionnel qui se déroule également dans la Pologne orientale. (...) elle regagne Berlin en septembre 1906 ; sa liaison avec Leo Jogiches prend fin à cette époque
(...)
Avec Martov et Lénine, avec qui elle noue une alliance temporaire et de circonstance, elle amende et fait adopter par le Congrès international socialiste de Stuttgart en 1907, une résolution sur la guerre, stipulant qu'en cas de conflit, le devoir de la classe ouvrière est de se soulever et par là, d'empêcher la guerre et de hâter la fin du capitalisme

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La biographie de Nettl reste la plus documentée, mais lui aussi a l'air gêné, il ne donne aucune explication à ce qui est tout de même un revirement de RL :

la SDKPiL avait décidé que les bolcheviks avaient été l'avant-garde active de la révolution russe et qu'ils étaient donc les alliés naturels des Polonais, acitifs eux aussi. Lors du Quatrième Congrès (Congrès de l'unification) du POSDR à Stockholm en avril-mai 1906, les bolcheviks reçurent les Polonais avec tous les honneurs. Ceux-ci, en échange, les aidèrent à obtenir une majorité sur plusieurs questions importantes soulevées lors du congrès. Des délégués de la SDKPiL - seul groupe polonais présent au congrès - furent élus au Comité central du parti russe

J-P Nettl - La vie et l'oeuvre de Rosa Luxemburg (p. 343)

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E. Ettinger décrit les visites de Hanecki à RL qui est en prison pendant le Congrès de Stockhom :

Jakub Hanecki, social-démocrate polonais, lui rendait visite presque chaque jour. Ils se rencontraient sans témoin pour discuter des affaires du parti, et il obtint son accord pour qu'à son prochain congrès la SDKPiL rejoigne le POSDR

Elzebieta Ettinger, Rosa Luxemburg - Une vie (p. 167)

****
Pour Max Gallo, c'est "son parti", à l'insu de son plein gré, et non RL elle même qui rejoint le POSDR :

si elle se félicite qu'à Stockholm, en avril-mai 1906, au congrès de l'Unification du Parti social-démocrate de Russie [sic], son parti, la SDKPiL, ait rejoint les bolcheviks et les mencheviks enfin rassemblés, elle reste une adversaire de Lénine (...)

Max Gallo -Une femme rebelle - Vie et mort de Rosa Luxemburg (p. 154-155)

Pour enrichir la langue de bois politicienne, au lieu de dire : "En 1906 Rosa Luxemburg adhère au parti de Lénine", Max Gallo et Wikipédia écrivent : Rosa Luxemburg est une adversaire de Lénine, avec qui elle noue une alliance temporaire et de circonstance !

****
ПРОТОКОЛЫ IV СЪЕЗДА РСДРП (source)

8. ОТНОШЕНИЕ К НАЦИОНАЛЬНЫМ СОЦИАЛ -ДЕМОКРАТИЧЕСКИМ ПАРТИЯМ

Принимая во внимание :
1) что в ходе революции пролетариат всех национальностей России все более и более сплачивается общей борьбой ;

2) что эта общая борьба ведет К все большему сближе- нию различных национальных социал-демократических партий России ;

3) что во многих городах образуются уже, вместо прежних Федеративных , слитные комитеты bcex национальных социал- Демократических организаций данной местности ;

4) что большинство национальных социал-демократических партий не настаивает уже в настоящее время на принципе федерации, справедливо отвергнутом II съездом Российской социал- Демократической рабочей партии , -

Мы признаем и предлагаем съезду признать :

1) что необходимо принять самые энергичные меры к скорейшему слиянию всех национальных социал-демократических партий России в единую Российскую социал-демократическую рабо-
чую партию ;

2) что основой объединения должно быть полное слияние всех социал -демократических организаций каждой местности ;

3) что партия должна фактически обеспечить удовлетворение всех партийных интересов И нужд социал-демократического пролетариата каждой данной национальности , считаясь и с его культурно -бытовыми особенностями ; способами такого обеспечения могут быть : устройство особых конференций социал-демократов данной национальности , представительство национального меньшинства в местных, областных и центральных учреждениях партии, создание особых групп литераторских , издательских ,
агитаторских и т. п.

Примечание. Представительство национального меньшинства в ЦК партии могло бы быть организовано , например, таким образом, что общепартийный съезд вводит в состав ЦК определенное количество членов из числа кандидатов, намечаемых областными съездами тех местностей России, где в настоящее время существуют обособленные социал-Демократические организации .

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Traduction

Considérant :
1) qu'au cours de la révolution, le prolétariat de toutes les nationalités de Russie est de plus en plus uni par une lutte commune ;

2) que cette lutte commune conduit à un rapprochement croissant des différents partis sociaux-démocrates nationaux dans la Russie ;

3) que dans de nombreuses villes, à la place des anciens comités fédératifs, des comités fusionnés de toutes les organisations social-démocrates nationales d'une localité donnée sont déjà en train de se former ;

4) que la majorité des partis nationaux sociaux-démocrates n'insistent pas actuellement sur le principe de la fédération, rejeté à juste titre par le IIe Congrès du parti social-démocrate russe

Nous reconnaissons et nous proposons au Congrès de reconnaître :

1) qu'il est nécessaire de prendre les mesures les plus énergiques pour la fusion rapide de tous les partis sociaux-démocrates nationaux de Russie en un seul Parti ouvrier social-démocrate russe ;

2) que la base de l'unification doit être la fusion complète de toutes les organisations sociales-démocrates de chaque localité ;

3) que le parti doit effectivement assurer la satisfaction de tous les intérêts du parti et des besoins du prolétariat social-démocrate de chaque nationalité donnée, en tenant compte de ses particularités culturelles et quotidiennes ; les moyens d'une telle disposition peuvent être : l'organisation de conférences spéciales des social-démocrates d'une nationalité donnée, la représentation de la minorité nationale dans les institutions locales, régionales et centrales du parti, la création de groupes spéciaux de littérature, d'édition, d'agitation, etc.

Note. La représentation de la minorité nationale au sein du Comité central du Parti pourrait être organisée, par exemple, de telle sorte que le Congrès de tous les partis introduise au sein du Comité central un certain nombre de membres parmi les candidats désignés par les congrès régionaux des régions de Russie où il existe actuellement des organisations sociales-démocrates distinctes.
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6. СОВЕТЫ РАБОЧИХ ДЕПУТАТОВ

Принимая во внимание :
1 ) что Советы рабочих депутатов стихийно возникают на почве
массовых политических стачек, как беспартийные организации
широких рабочих масс ;

2) что эти Советы неизбежно изменяются в ходе борьбы, как
по своему составу , включая в себя наиболее революционные
элементы мелкой буржуазии , так и по содержанию своей деятель-
ности, превращаясь из чисто стачечных организаций в органы
общереволюционной борьбы ;

3) что, поскольку эти Советы являются зачатками революцион-
ной власти, их сила и значение зависят всецело от силы и успеха
восстания ,

Мы признаем и предлагаем съезду признать :
1) что в беспартийных Советах рабочих депутатов Россий-
ская социал-демократическая рабочая партия должна участво-
вать, образуя непременно возможно более сильные группы
членов партии внутри каждого Совета и направляя дея-
тельность этих групп в строгой связи с общей деятельностью
партии ;

2) что создание таких организаций , в целях расширения и
углубления влияния социал-демократии на пролетариат и про-
летариата на ход и исход демократической революции , может
быть, при известных условиях , задачей местных организаций
нашей партии ;

3) что к участию в беспартийных Советах рабочих депутатов
должно привлекать возможно более широкие слои рабочих, а также
представителей революционной демократии , особенно из крестьян,
солдат и матросов ;

4) что при расширении деятельности и сферы влияния Советов
рабочих депутатов необходимо указывать на то, что такие учре-
ждения , не опираясь на революционную армию и не свергая пра-
вительственных властей (т . е. не превращаясь во временные рево-
люционные правительства ), неизбежно осуждены на падение ;
поэтому вооружение народа и укрепление военной организации
пролетариата должно быть рассматриваемо, как одна из главных
задач таких учреждений во всякий революционный момент.

7. ОТНОШЕНИЕ К БУРЖУАЗНЫМ ПАРТИЯМ

Принимая во внимание :
1) что социал-демократия всегда признавала необходимость
поддержки всякого оппозиционного и революционного движения,
направленного против существующего в России общественного и
политического порядка ;

2) что в настоящее время, когда революция вызывает открытое
выступление различных классов и на этой почве начинают скла-
дываться политические партии , настоятельной задачей социал-
Демократии является определить их классовое содержание , учесть
взаимоотношение классов в данный момент и, в соответствии с этим,
определить свое отношение к различным партиям ;

3) что главной задачей рабочего класса в переживаемый момент
Демократической революции является доведение ее до конца, и
поэтому социал-демократия , определяя свое отношение к другим
партиям, должна в особенности принимать во внимание, насколько
та или иная партия способна активно содействовать этой цели ;

4) что с этой точки зрения все существующие в России не
партии за реакционныхсоциал-демократические ( вычетом ) рас-
падаются на две основные группы : партии либерально-монархи-
ческие и партии революционно-демократические , -

Мы признаем и предлагаем съезду признать :
1) что правое крыло либерально-монархических партий (союз
17 октября , партии правового порядка, торгово-промышленная
партия и т. д.) представляют из себя классовые организации по-
мещиков и крупной торгово -промышленной буржуазии , явно
контрреволюционные , но еще не заключившие окончательной
сделки о дележе власти с самодержавной бюрократией ; что партия
пролетариата , используя в своих целях этот не закончившийся
еще конфликт , должна вместе с тем вести с такими партиями самую
беспощадную борьбу ;

2) что либерально-монархические партии левого крыла (пар-
тии демократических реформ, конституционалисты-демократы
и т . п.) , не будучи определенными классовыми организациями , по-
стоянно колеблются между демократической мелкой буржуазией
и контрреволюционными элементами крупной , между стремлением
опереться на народ и боязнью его революционной самодеятель-
ности, и не выходят в своих стремлениях за пределы упорядочен-
ного буржуазного общества , защищенного монархией и двухпалат-
ной системой от посягательства пролетариата ; социал-демократия
должна использовать , в интересах политического воспитания на-
рода , деятельность этих партий, противопоставляя их лицемерно-
Демократической фразеологии последовательный демократизм про-
летариата и беспощадно разоблачая распространяемые ими кон-
ституционные иллюзии ;

3) что революционно-демократические партии и организации
(партия социалистов -революционеров , Крестьянский союз, части
полупрофессиональных союзов и полуполитических союзов и т. п. )
наиболее близко выражают интересы и точку зрения широких
масс крестьянства и мелкой буржуазии , решительно выступая
против помещичьего землевладения и крепостнического государ-
ства, стремясь последовательно проводить демократизм и облекая
свои, в сущности буржуазно -демократические , задачи более или
менее туманной социалистической идеологией ; социал-демократия
признает возможность и необходимость боевых соглашений с та-
кими партиями, неуклонно разоблачая в то же время их псевдо-
социалистический характер и борясь с их стремлением затушевать
классовую противоположность между пролетарием и мелким хо-
зяйчиком ;

4) что ближайшей политической целью таких временных бое-
вых соглашений между социал-демократией и революционной
демократией является созыв революционным путем всенародного,
обладающего полнотой власти , учредительного собрания на основе
всеобщего, прямого, равного и тайного голосования ;

5) что временные боевые соглашения возможны и целесообразны
в данный момент лишь с элементами, признающими вооруженное
восстание , как средство борьбы, и активно содействующими ему.

9. ПРОФЕССИОНАЛЬНЫЕ СОЮЗЫ

Принимая во внимание :
1) что социал-демократия всегда признавала экономическую
борьбу, как одну из составных частей классовой борьбы проле-
тариата ;

2) что наиболее целесообразной организацией рабочего класса
в целях экономической борьбы являются , как показывает опыт
всех капиталистических стран, широкие профессиональные союзы ;

3) что в настоящее время наблюдается широкое стремление
рабочих масс в России сплачиваться в профессиональные союзы ;

4) что экономическая борьба может привести к прочному
улучшению положения рабочих масс и к укреплению их истинно-
классовой организации лишь при условии правильного сочетания
ее с политической борьбой пролетариата ,

Мы признаем и предлагаем съезду признать :
1) что все организации партии должны способствовать образо-
ванию беспартийных профессиональных союзов и побуждать
к вступлению в них всех представителей данной профессии, входя-
щих в состав партии ;

2) что партия должна всеми мерами стремиться к тому, чтобы
воспитывать участвующих в профессиональных союзах рабочих
в духе широкого понимания классовой борьбы и социалистических
задач пролетариата , чтобы завоевывать своей деятельностью фак-
тически руководящую роль в таких союзах, и, наконец, чтобы эти
союзы могли, при известных условиях , прямо примыкать к партии,
отнюдь , однако , не исключая из своего состава непартийных чле-
нов.

L'action et le procès du Soviet de Pétrograd en 1905

Robert Paris — 2025-05-01T22:09:00Z

L'action et le procès du Soviet de Pétrograd en 1905

LES SOVIETS EN 1905 EN RUSSIE

https://www.matierevolution.org/spip.php?article7208

L'HISTOIRE DU SOVIET

https://www.matierevolution.org/spip.php?article3877

FORMATION DU SOVIET DES DEPUTES OUVRIERS

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_8.htm

LES PREMIERS JOURS DE LA “LIBERTE”

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_11.htm

L'ASSAUT AUX BASTILLES DE LA CENSURE

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_13.htm

LA GREVE DE NOVEMBRE

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_15.htm

LES HUIT HEURES ET UN FUSIL !

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_16.htm

AU SEUIL DE LA CONTRE‑REVOLUTION

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_19.htm

LES DERNIERS JOURS DU SOVIET

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_20.htm

LE PROCES DU SOVIET DES DEPUTES OUVRIERS

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_2_1.htm

LE SOVIET ET LE PARQUET

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_2_2.htm

LE DISCOURS DE TROTSKY, PRESIDENT DU SOVIET, AU TRIBUNAL

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_2_3.htm

LA DEPORTATION DES DELEGUES DU SOVIET

https://www.marxists.org/francais/trotsky/livres/1905/1905_2_4.htm

Mutinerie des marins russes pendant la révolution de 1905

Robert Paris — 2025-04-25T22:43:00Z

Le livre de Pierre Nikiforov, la Grève, dépeint avec vigueur la lutte du prolétariat sous le régime tsariste au moment où la première révolution russe — ayant atteint son point culminant, lors du soulèvement d'octobre 1905, à Moscou, et étant écrasée au centre de son mouvement — déferla irrésistiblement sur les villes et les villages éloignés du cœur du pays. Dans les villes, elle prit la forme de grèves.

L'auteur est un bolchévik, matelot. C'est lui qui dirigea la mutinerie qui éclata à bord du yacht impérial Etoile polaire, en octobre 1905.

Cette mutinerie fut écrasée et Nikiforov fut obligé de fuir. Il partit en Crimée où il travailla illégalement pour le Parti.

En 1906, les bolchéviks furent obligés de soutenir une lutte acharnée, non seulement contre la contre-révolution tsariste qui relevait la tête, mais encore au sein de leur propre parti contre les menchéviks, car, à cette époque, le Parti social-démocrate russe réunissait encore les bolchéviks et les menchéviks et, officiellement, était uni.

Alors que le front unique des masses, qui s'était constitué pendant la période de poussée révolutionnaire, obligeait les menchéviks, en dépit de leur nature revisionniste, à participer involontairement aux combats de ces masses, lorsque le flot révolutionnaire se mit à refluer, ces mêmes menchéviks se sentirent les maîtres de la situation.

Après la défaite du soulèvement de Moscou, le chef et l'idéologue du menchévisme, G. Plékhanov, prononça sa phrase célèbre : « Il ne fallait pas prendre les armes » et les militants menchéviks locaux, solidement installés dans les comités s'efforçèrent, avec un zèle digne d'un sort meilleur, d'étouffer par leur politique opportuniste le feu révolutionnaire qui ne s'était pas éteint dans les masses.

C'est justement dans cette période de propagande menchévik qu'arriva en Crimée l'auteur de la Grève, qui avait reçu son éducation et sa trempe bolchéviks dans le groupe de combat du Parti à Pétersbourg (Léningrad). Ce groupe était dirigé par les bolchéviks.

L'auteur reçut la tâche difficile de défendre la ligne bolchévik dans un comité du Parti composé de menchéviks. Cette tâche était d'autant plus difficile que Nikiforov, quoique agitateur et organisateur de talent, ne possédait pas encore les connaissances théoriques nécessaires pour faire prévaloir ses conceptions sur celles des comitards menchéviks.

Néanmoins, nous voyons par son livre que l'auteur défendait une ligne bolchévik exacte en organisant les masses pour la lutte, en allant au combat avec les masses et en se plaçant à leur tête, en vrai bolchévik.

En ce sens la Grève est très instructive, très actuelle même, bien qu'elle nous parle d'événements qui se déroulèrent en 1905.

Nikoforov, "La grève" :

Le début du travail d'organisation

La première moitié de 1906 fut caractérisée dans le sud de la Russie par un fort mouvement de grève.

Le coup porté au gouvernement tsariste par le prolétariat de Pétersbourg et de Moscou, à la fin de 1905, se répercuta dans tout le pays pendant toute l'année 1906.

Les usines métallurgiques du sud et de l'Oural étaient constamment en grève. Un mouvement révolutionnaire puissant se développait parmi les matelots de la flotte commerciale de la mer Noire, une vague révolutionnaire se soulevait de nouveau parmi les marins de la flotte de guerre de la mer Noire et de la mer Baltique. La situation exigeait de nous une action décisive. Les organisations social-démocrates s'efforçaient de mobiliser toutes leurs forces dans le but de se mettre à la tête du mouvement.

Le comité de Crimée m'ordonna de rejoindre d'urgence la ville de Kertch afin de venir en aide à l'organisation locale. Dans la situation présente, Kertch avait une importance primordiale, car le détroit de Kertch était le seul chemin par lequel l'on pouvait faire passer les quantités énormes de blé qui étaient exportées des ports de Rostov, Taganrog et Marioupol.

En fermant le détroit de Kertch, l'on paralysait tout le trafic des ports de la mer d'Azov et, par conséquent, le mouvement des exportations.

J'allais avoir un travail important à effectuer parmi les ouvriers dragueurs et les dockers du port de Kertch.

L'organisation de Kertch était, entièrement menchévik et la base de son organisation était dans de petites usines métallurgiques qui possédaient des groupes d'ouvriers menchéviks assez forts. La flottille des dragueurs et les dockers étaient en dehors de l'influence des menchéviks. Les s.-r. (socialistes-révolutionnaires) et les anarchistes n'étaient pas très forts et se recrutaient parmi la petite bourgeoisie de Kertch.

Par décision du comité de Kertch, j'allai travailler parmi les ouvriers dragueurs et les dockers. Je me mis avec ardeur à la besogne.

Je passais des journées entières parmi eux. J'étudiais la vie des dockers, j'écoutais leurs conversations et mis bientôt le doigt sur les points où pouvait s'exercer mon agitation.

Tous les travaux de chargement et de déchargement des quais étaient dirigés à l'époque par des entrepreneurs qui s'entendaient avec l'administration des bateaux et du port pour exploiter férocement la masse non organisée des dockers.

Les entrepreneurs saoulaient les dockers et les trompaient lors du règlement des comptes. Chaque règlement de compte provoquait des manifestations de mécontentement et des tempêtes de protestations des ouvriers contre les entrepreneurs.

J'étudiai tout ceci en détail et le gravai dans ma mémoire.

J'avais la possibilité de m'embaucher en qualité de docker, mais je décidai néanmoins de me faufiler dans la flottille des dragueurs.

Les dragues étaient encore en réparation et seule une petite quantité d'entre elles étaient en action et nettoyaient le détroit de Kertch. J'engageai la conversation avec les ouvriers et, m'étant fait passer pour un sans-travail, je m'installai avec leur aide sur l'une des dragues, le Victor Choumski, en qualité de manoeuvre avec un salaire de 75 kopecks par jour.

Je fus embauché par le maître d'équipage, un vieux loup de mer qui avait fait son service militaire dans la flotte.

Possédant une capacité de travail et une endurance tout à fait extraordinaires, il tenait solidement en mains l'équipage du bateau et était le bras droit du capitaine ; il buvait jusqu'à en tomber ivre-mort. Lorsque je me présentai à lui, il me scruta attentivement. Mes habits simples et ma force physique le satisfirent.

— Que sais-tu faire ?

— Je sais faire tout le travail de manœuvre.

— Où as-tu travaillé en dernier lieu ?

— A Tcheliabinsk, au dépôt des chemins de fer, répondis-je, comptant bien qu'il n'irait pas en Sibérie prendre des renseignements sur mon travail.

— Pourquoi as-tu été renvoyé ?

— Parce que je buvais, répondis-je gêné.

— Ça va, vas travailler ! Si je remarque que tu te saoûles, je te fous à la porte. Eh, Bespalov, je t'envoie un aide. Attrape !

Bespalov me regarda avec aménité. Il était voûté et sombre comme s'il portait un lourd fardeau. A ce point de vue, tous les vieux ouvriers métallurgistes ayant passé une période d'entraînement consistant en 14-16 heures de travail par jour se ressemblent beaucoup ; ils sont comme coulés dans le même moule.

Bespalov, qui posait et préparait les tuyaux de conduite sur les bateaux, travaillait avec son fils. Depuis longtemps il était dans la flottille. Il avait succédé à son père dans ce travail. Il était renfrogné et silencieux et buvait sans doute considérablement. Il était tenace au travail ; ses mains noueuses saisissaient comme des pinces les objets et les posaient avec précision à l'endroit voulu. Il travaillait bien, solidement et proprement.

Je connaissais également le travail des conduites d'eau et m'avérai comme étant un aide « déluré », ce qui disposa aussitôt le vieux en ma faveur. J'accordais une importance particulière à ce fait, car dans mon travail la sympathie d'un vieil ouvrier était déjà un soutien, même s'il ne voulait pas se mêler de politique.

Tout le travail le plus difficile et le plus sale retomba sur moi ; je, soulevais les objets les plus lourds, j'enlevais la crasse aux endroits où il fallait poser les conduites, etc.

Les premiers jours de mon travail à bord du dragueur ne me montrèrent aucun indice de la possibilité d'accomplir un travail politique quelconque.

Bespalov était peu loquace et répondait peu volontiers aux questions qui n'avaient pas directement trait à son travail.

Je résolus tout de même de sonder le vieux et j'engageai la conversation sur la Douma.

— C'est bientôt les élections à la Douma.

— Et nous, on va voter aussi ?

— Cette question-là ne nous regarde pas. A trop penser on perd la tête...

— Et comment que ça se fait que les journaux écrivent que les ouvriers vont voter aussi ? insistai-je en revenant à la charge.

— On écrit ce qu'on veut, et on fait ce qu'on veut aussi, prononça Bespalov avec importance.

Là-dessus se termina notre causerie politique.

La sagesse de Bespalov, contenue dans sa phrase, qu'à trop penser on pouvait perdre la tête, montrait que les vieux ouvriers sentaient profondément et comprenaient parfaitement la politique du gouvernement tsariste et que Bespalov en savait plus long qu'il ne le laissait entendre.

Les anciens de la flottille évitaient en général les conversations politiques et, en ce sens, le travail parmi eux ne disait rien qui vaille. Au contraire, les sujets touchant aux salaires trouvaient toujours chez eux un excellent accueil.

Ayant fait connaissance des ouvriers, de leur état d'esprit et de leur situation économique, je conclus qu'il me fallait commencer mon travail par la jeunesse non encore chargée de famille La majorité des ouvriers dragueurs travaillaient dans le métier depuis des années et beaucoup d'entre eux même depuis leur enfance ; ils avaient acquis des maisonnettes et avaient installé leur famille. L'administration avait créé toute une échelle d'avancements savamment gradués, dont les ouvriers franchissaient docilement les échelons, un par un. Des familles entières avec leurs enfants, frères, neveux, etc., avaient pris racine dans ce travail et vivaient d'une vie intérieure très fermée. Les anciens étaient particulièrement sévères pour toute « libre pensée » et tenaient la jeunesse très étroitement.

L'administration du port et de la flottille s'efforçait de se comporter d'une manière familière avec toute cette masse et demandait même les conseils techniques des vieux particulièrement respectables ou les consultait sur les questions de discipline et d'ordre intérieur. Naturellement, il ne fallait même pas penser à commencer le travail par les vieux. Il fallait tâcher d'arracher peu à peu la jeunesse à l'influence des vieux et de l'amener ensuite à s'intéresser à la politique.

C'est par là que je commençai.

Le fils de Bespalov, André, était étudiant dans une école technique et rêvait de devenir mécanicien à bord ; je me liai rapidement d'amitié avec lui. Souvent nous passions des heures entières à terre et devisions sur des thèmes divers. Je l'initiai avec précaution à la politique.

Mes récits sur la révolution qui venait d'avoir lieu provoquaient des questions diverses de sa part. Il me demandait pourquoi existaient « les partis clandestins », pourquoi ils sont contre le tsar, etc. En présence de son père, je menais la conversation plus doucement, le vieux faisait des répliques dans le genre de : « Les uns sont poussés à la révolution par la famine, les autres par la graisse, et nous... pourvu qu'on travaille... Et puis, on dit que les youpins jettent de l'huile sur le feu... »

Je lui parlais avec précaution des grèves de masse dans les différentes villes, je lui citais les grèves des postes et télégraphes et des chemins de fer.

Le vieux discutait avec entêtement et son fils écoutait et me soutenait. En terminant ces conversations j'ajoutais toujours pour le vieux : « Ni toi, ni moi, ne nous proposons de faire la révolution, grand-père, mais l'homme doit tout de même être fixé sur tout. » La précaution n'était pas inutile.

L'homme de chauffe de notre dragueur, que le vieux nommait Danilo, en abrégeant son nom, s'adjoignit à nos conversations. Danilo était Ukrainien. C'était un bon gars qui avait fait son service dans l'infanterie et s'était embauché ensuite dans notre flottille.

Gai et simple, il s'assimilait vivement le côté romantique de la révolution et s'en imprégnait comme une éponge s'imbibe de liquide. Revenu de la guerre russo-japonaise, il avait été lui-même pris par la grande tempête dont le torrent l'avait entraîné jusque sur les bords de la mer Noire. Il était toujours heureux de nos causeries et y apportait une grande animation. Le vieux ne l'aimait pas pour cela et ronchonnait contre lui en le traitant de « carillon ».

Peu à peu la jeunesse se groupait autour de nous, la lecture des journaux pendant le casse-croûte, les commentaires des événements dont les échos ne s'étaient pas encore assoupis, les causeries à terre après le travail, tout cela attirait la jeunesse à la vie politique. Progressivement, des questions générales, je passai aux questions ayant trait à la vie de notre flottille.

A l'ancre, la journée ouvrière de la flottille, était de 11 h. 30 Je choisis en premier lieu ce thème pour mes causeries avec les jeunes marins. Je reliai cette question à la lutte générale de la classe ouvrière et à la nécessité de l'auto-éducation politique ; je leur parlai de la lutte actuelle que les capitalistes, aidés par la gendarmerie et la police, mènent contre les ouvriers qu'ils poursuivent pour la moindre manifestation de mécontentement.

Ces récits soulevaient particulièrement l'intérêt de la jeunesse sur la révolution et provoquaient une foule de questions. Un certain romantisme du mystère, de lutte contre le gouvernement et la police, trouvait un écho vivant dans les cœurs de toute cette jeunesse.

C'est ainsi qu'autour de moi, insensiblement, se forma un groupe. Je me mis à faire mon travail politique en dehors des heures de service. Nous organisâmes des réunions de notre groupe, le soir. Ces réunions se passaient en longues causeries.

A cette époque, dans la presse, les questions concernant la Douma étaient fortement débattues. Je réussis à me lier sur ce terrain avec les anciens, mais non avec tous il est vrai. Je leur expliquai ce que c'était que la Douma, pourquoi le gouvernement tsariste la convoquait, etc. En un mot, je fus promu près des anciens au rang d'explicateur des questions politiques ayant trait à la Douma. Mon travail progressa d'une manière assez sérieuse et, malgré cela, je ne fus pas découvert par l'administration qui, étant bercée par l'illusion de la docilité des ouvriers, ne remarquait pas ce qui se passait sous son nez. Personne ne remarquait ma figure modeste de manœuvre, d'autant plus que je n'entrais jamais en discussion avec les anciens et même, parfois, les soutenais lorsque les jeunes les taquinaient.

La jeunesse s'assimilait sans s'en douter les conceptions révolutionnaires ; les exemples frappants de mutineries de marins, de combats sur les barricades, etc. enflammaient leur imagination.

Lorsque je disais que dans beaucoup d'usines les ouvriers avaient su imposer la journée de 9 heures par une grève solidaire, la jeunesse s'excitait, Danilo se frottait les mains et, fermant les poings, disait :

— Il faudra secouer les nôtres aussi...

— Oh, les nôtres, il faudra du temps pour les mettre en train, disait André le pondéré, pour calmer Danilo, rien que mon père, pour le...

— De quoi ton père ? c'est pas nos pères, c'est nous qu'il faut mettre en train.

La pensée de « secouer » à bord, chez nous, intéressa fortement les gars et ils n'abandonnèrent plus cette idée.

Ma première expérience de travail avec la jeunesse m'avait montré que ma tactique politique était exacte, que je pouvais hardiment me reposer sur la jeunesse et travailler par son intermédiaire.

Je résolus de développer mon travail ultérieur de façon à être moi-même le plus longtemps possible dans l'ombre et à ne pas provoquer trop tôt l'attention de la gendarmerie ou de la police.

J'introduisis, avec l'autorisation du comité du Parti, une partie de la jeunesse dans un cercle du Parti.

L'admission des jeunes à un cercle politique les enthousiasma ; ils masquaient leur participation à ce cercle par des méthodes de conspiration exagérées jusqu'à la naïveté, se considéraient avec orgueil comme membres d'un parti révolutionnaire clandestin qui mène la lutte, « peut-on dire avec le tsar, son gouvernement et tous ses partisans ».

La tête tournait à tous ces gars.

La question d'attirer la jeunesse des autres bateaux à notre travail se posa devant nous.

— Il faut les réunir à terre après le travail et leur parler, proposa Danilo.

— Quel ballot ! répliqua André.

— Et toi, t'es si intelligent que tu crois que tous les autres sont des imbéciles, se froissa Danilo.

— Pas « les autres », mais seulement toi. T'es un imbécile. Vas les réunir tous, et aujourd'hui même toute la ville saura de quoi il s'agit.

— Naturellement, ce n'est pas comme cela qu'il faut faire, dis-je pour soutenir André ; nous aurons toujours le temps de tomber entre les pattes de la gendarmerie, donc il ne faut pas se dépêcher, il faut les entraîner progressivement, un par un, en choisissant, non les bavards, mais les fermes. Nous formerons un cercle solide. Il faut avoir son homme sur chaque navire et, par son intermédiaire, travailler parmi la jeunesse de ces bâtiments.

André s'enthousiasmait insensiblement, comme si notre cause lui était devenue proche depuis longtemps.

Les gars prirent sur eux de faire de l'agitation parmi le jeunesse et de travailler à l'adhésion des ouvriers des autres bâtiments. Nous résolûmes d'organiser un cercle parmi eux. Nous nommâmes André organisateur responsable, on avait décidé de ne pas mettre les navires en liaison avec moi.

— Toi, mon vieux, reste dans ton coin et montre-nous comment il faut faire, le reste, nous le ferons nous-mêmes, déclara Danilo avec une ferme conviction.

C'est ainsi que se noua le petit lien de notre grand travail politique.

Sur ma proposition, le comité décida d'organiser un meeting en plein air à la veille du Premier Mai. Ce meeting avait pour but d'attirer le plus grand nombre d'ouvriers de notre flottille et de dockers. Je confiai à Danilo le soin de mobiliser tout notre cercle pour ce travail. Les gars firent tous de leur mieux. 100 hommes de la flottille assistèrent au meeting. Les postes, la chaîne de francs-tireurs, les mots de passe mystérieux, tout cela produisait une forte impression sur les ouvriers. Des socialistes-révolutionnaires avec lesquels des empoignades formidables avaient toujours lieu, s'infiltrèrent aussi chez nous. Les socialistes-révolutionnaires de Kertch n'étaient pas très ferrés en théorie et se faisaient chaque fois copieusement battre par les social-démocrates. C'est pourquoi les socialistes-révolutionnaires s'efforçaient toujours de concentrer la discussion sur les questions ayant trait à la terreur. Sur ce point-là, la discussion leur était plus facile. Néanmoins, ils ne pouvaient obtenir la majorité dans nos meetings.

Le meeting de ce jour dura longtemps. Nous expliquâmes en détail la signification du Premier Mai, comment il fallait le fêter et pourquoi l'autocratie et les capitalistes étaient contre lui, etc.

Le meeting se termina à l'aube. Nous partîmes tous ensemble. La police savait qu'un meeting avait lieu, mais avait peur de se risquer dans la steppe.

Elle avait une peur intense de nos groupes de combat, dont elle connaissait également l'existence, mais dont elle s'exagérait l'importance. C'est pourquoi elle résolut de surveiller le retour des auditeurs dans un faubourg de la ville et de les arrêter lorsqu'ils passeraient. Mais nos éclaireurs firent passer les ouvriers par des chemins détournés à travers la montagne et les amenèrent du côté opposé de la ville.

Plus de 300 hommes descendirent bruyamment et en chantant de la montagne vers la rue centrale de la ville ; les flics de garde sifflaient éperdument, les policiers qui avaient préparé la souricière couraient à toute allure vers le lieu de la manifestation, mais ils ne trouvèrent personne. Le réseau des ruelles étroites avait englouti les manifestants qui s'en revinrent tous, sains et saufs, dans leurs foyers.

Notre meeting eut une influence énorme sur tous les ouvriers et surtout sur la jeunesse. Les questions politiques devinrent le thème constant des conversations de la jeunesse. Les vieux gardaient le silence, mais toléraient ces conversations ; le meeting avait brisé leur entêtement. Les discussions sur la terreur étaient particulièrement passionnées : le romantisme du terrorisme paraissait très séduisant, très noble et entraînant... et la jeunesse subissait la contagion de cet aventurisme malsain.

André me déclara qu'il était nécessaire de discuter la question de la terreur dans notre cercle ; il craignait beaucoup que cette question dangereuse n'apportât la dissension au sein de notre cercle et fît avorter tout notre travail. Dans une causerie longue et détaillée faite au cercle, j'expliquai la signification de la lutte prolétarienne de masse que j'illustrai de deux exemples : une révolte armée de marins et le soulèvement de Moscou, et je parlai de la terreur individuelle comme méthode nuisible de lutte, détournant le prolétariat de la lutte politique de masse ; la jeunesse envisagea dès lors avec plus de calme cette question brûlante. Mes explications sur le rôle essentiel de la préparation d'un mouvement ouvrier de masse dont la force agissante menait à la victoire furent convaincantes et, détournant la jeunesse du romantisme individuel, l'orientèrent vers la voie de la lutte de classe.

Notre liaison avec les autres unités de la flottille se consolida tellement que l'on pouvait déjà activer le travail de la jeunesse organisée.

Je résolus de poser devant la jeunesse la question de l'élaboration d'un plan concret de lutte pour la diminution de la journée de travail. La tâche était assez malaisée : tout le monde doutait de la possibilité de décider les ouvriers à la grève ; ce travail était nouveau, et, de plus, la question ne pouvait être résolue par les seules forces de la jeunesse, il fallait faire marcher les vieux. J'estimai également que la grève ne réussirait pas. Il fallait pour cela faire un travail soutenu et de plus longue haleine.

Je proposai d'essayer spontanément, sans faire grève, de réduire le nombre des heures de travail. D'abord personne ne comprit cette manière de poser la question, ensuite, après y avoir pensé, mes camarades décidèrent que l'on pouvait essayer. André et moi prîmes sur nous d'élaborer ce plan. Nous confiâmes aux autres le soin de faire de l'agitation en faveur de la réduction de la journée de travail. Nous résolûmes de ne pas poser pour le moment la question de l'augmentation des salaires.

Nous élaborâmes, avec André, un plan détaillé. Il se résumait en ceci : les ouvriers de la flottille des dragueurs devaient réduire de leur propre volonté la journée de travail de 11 heures et demie à 9 heures : au jour fixé, les ouvriers de la caravane devaient arriver au travail à 7 heures du matin au lieu de 6 heures ; prendre une demi-heure pour dîner et terminer le travail à 4 heures au lieu de 5.

Nous devions désigner le jour fixé pour l'accomplissement de notre plan dès que les ouvriers seraient suffisamment préparés. La veille de ce jour, avant la fin du travail, sur toutes les cheminées de tous les bateaux, nous devions écrire à la craie, en grosses lettres, à quelle heure, le lendemain, le travail devait commencer et se terminer. Pour diriger cette campagne, nous choisîmes un comité avec, comme centre, le Victor Choumski, sur lequel je travaillais. L'organisateur responsable ou président du comité fut André.

A partir de ce moment, le Victor Choumski devint le centre du mouvement ouvrier qui se formait à bord de la flottille.

Lorsque je fis, au comité du Parti, mon rapport sur le plan de campagne pour la réduction de la journée de travail, ce plan provoqua les protestations de tout le comité qui déclara qu'il fallait me borner au travail d'éducation à l'intérieur du cercle et ne pas m'occuper de travail actif. Je déclarai au comité que la tactique des manifestations de combat organisées donnerait phis de résultats politiques que le travail d'éducation à l'intérieur des cercles. Après ma déclaration catégorique, le comité fut obligé de ratifier mon plan et je reçus l'autorisation de commencer notre campagne.

La jeunesse opérait avec décision : elle faisait de l'agitation ouverte pour la réduction de la journée de travail. L'administration habituée à sa prospérité paisible ne sentait pas le danger et portait peu d'attention à la « jeunesse bavarde »

Organisation d'un syndicat clandestin. Préparation à la grève. Premier Mai. Arrestation.

La victoire « sans effusion de sang » obtenue avec la journée de 9 heures, enthousiasma non seulement les jeunes, mais éveilla aussi les anciens. Les vieux se mirent à prêter une oreille plus attentive aux questions politiques. Mon autorité augmenta également de beaucoup parmi toute la population de la flottille. Mes causeries politiques acquéraient un caractère à demi-légal de masse, mais je n'en continuais pas moins à exprimer mes idées avec modération. Je crois que c'est justement mon assurance qui en imposait aux vieux. Toutes les causeries avaient lieu pendant le casse-croûte et, parfois., le soir.

L'état d'esprit créé par la victoire me donna l'idée de l'organisation d'un syndicat clandestin. Cette idée reçut un accueil favorable de la part des ouvriers. L'organisation d'un syndicat légal était, à l'époque, impossible ; de plus, je ne tenais pas beaucoup moi-même à la légalisation. Je tenais compte de ce que je ne pourrais pas travailler pendant longtemps et que, d'une manière ou d'une autre, les gendarmes se mêleraient de l'affaire. Je craignis qu'un syndicat légalisé ne restât sans direction convenable et tombât entre les mains des réactionnaires qui, à ce moment, s'étaient comme évaporés.

Ayant consacré quelques réunions à la question des buts et des tâches des syndicats, nous nous réunîmes en une séance constitutive formée des camarades les plus sûrs. Nous élûmes un comité de direction auquel nous confiâmes le soin d'élaborer les statuts de notre syndicat, de fabriquer un cachet et d'acquérir tout ce qui était nécessaire pour un syndicat clandestin.

Malgré nos méthodes de conspiration, 50 ouvriers adhérèrent au syndicat. Des fonds assez importants, près de 100 roubles, furent réunis, que nous ne savions en somme pas à quoi dépenser. De cette façon, le syndicat commença à fonctionner. Mais, comme chaque syndicat doit faire quelque chose, il est naturel que nous nous mîmes à réfléchir sur les moyens de recommander le nôtre à la classe ouvrière. Les membres de notre syndicat posèrent cette question avec insistance devant moi.

Il faut dire que, de pair avec le système d'enrôlement des ouvriers avec tous leurs ascendants et descendants, il existait dans la flottille toute une échelle compliquée de salaires. Lorsque je fis le calcul du salaire d'un ouvrier de catégorie inférieure, je trouvais qu'il ne gagnait en tout et pour tout que 18 roubles au plus par mois. De plus, les conditions du travail lui-même étaient excessivement dures et antihygiéniques ; même les chauffeurs qui accomplissaient un travail de bagnards n'avaient ni costumes, ni gants de travail ; il n'existait aucune organisation sanitaire et médicale.

Voilà les questions qui devaient, en premier lieu, fixer l'attention de notre jeune syndicat. A l'une de nos réunions, je fis un rapport détaillé sur la situation économique des ouvriers de la flottille et j'indiquais que l'amélioration économique de leur situation ne pouvait être que le résultat d'une lutté organisée.

La réunion chargea la direction du syndicat de se mettre en secret à l'étude détaillée de la situation économique des ouvriers de la flottille et d'élaborer un plan de lutte pour l'application des mesures qui seraient élaborées par la direction du syndicat.

Juste à cette époque, les marins de la flotte volontaire d'Odessa se mirent en grève.

Notre syndicat répondit à cette grève par l'organisation d'une collecte parmi les ouvriers. 400 roubles furent envoyés aux grévistes.

Les ouvriers de la flottille se répartissaient en groupes professionnels de la manière suivante :

Premier groupe : métallurgistes, tourneurs et mécanos.

Deuxième groupe : mécaniciens aux machines, aides-mécaniciens, chauffeurs et hommes préposés au huilage des machines.

Troisième groupe : hommes préposés aux péniches et aux pompes ;

Quatrième groupe : matelots.

Les groupes comptant le plus d'hommes et dont l'état d'esprit était le plus révolutionnaire étaient les deux derniers et, lors de notre premier combat, ils avaient joué un rôle décisif. Les deux premiers groupes étaient peu nombreux et faisaient montre d'une certaine retenue. Tant que la flottille hivernait pour les réparations, les deux derniers groupes pouvaient toujours avoir une influence décisive sur la lutte. Mais lorsqu'elle était en mer, ce rôle passait aux premiers groupes ; l'issue de la lutte dépendait entièrement d'eux, car l'âme de la flottille : les machines, était entre leurs mains.

Après une inspection minutieuse de nos forces, il fut établi qu'en cas de grève les métallurgistes et les chauffeurs devraient être à l'avant-garde de celle-ci et nous décidâmes de les préparer sérieusement.

Il est caractéristique que dès que les ouvriers se mirent à parler du syndicat qui avait été organisé, les métallurgistes se réveillèrent, ayant compris que c'était une organisation véritablement ouvrière qui était née Ils se mirent à frapper avec insistance aux portes du syndicat et exigèrent, sans mots inutiles, leur adhésion. Autant il avait été difficile de les faire entrer dans la vie politique, autant il fut facile de les faire adhérer à notre syndicat. Au bout d'un mois, les trois quarts des métallurgistes et des chauffeurs faisaient déjà partie de notre organisation.

Lorsque j'informai le comité du Parti de l'organisation d'un syndicat clandestin, je fus assez froidement reçu : « C'est du blanquisme ! qu'est-ce que ce syndicat clandestin ? que va-t-il faire et comment pourra-t-il défendre les intérêts des ouvriers ? » Voilà ce que j'entendis de toutes parts. Je répondis que notre syndicat était plus une organisation politique de combat qu'une union professionnelle.

L'on me reprocha alors de ne pas m'être mis auparavant d'accord avec le comité.

Et, lorsque je déclarai qu'il était possible qu'une grève éclatât au mois de mai dans la flottille et que notre syndicat était en train d'élaborer un programme de revendications, cela causa une agitation extrême :

Un événement semblable à Kertch était une chose extraordinaire.

— Le diable l'emporte, il nous informe de ces choses pour la forme seulement. Pourquoi toutes ces choses se passent-t-elles en dehors du comité ?

— Comment, en dehors du comité ? Mais je vous fais justement mon rapport pour ne pas laisser de côté le comité. Vous m'aviez confié le soin de travailler dans la flottille et j'y travaille, vous le voyez bien.

— Il faut débattre la question de l'opportunité d'une grève et savoir si les ouvriers y sont suffisamment préparés.

— Le syndicat lui-même pose la question de la grève et il faut croire qu'elle aura lieu.

Après de longues palabres, il me fut déclaré que le comité ne prendrait pas la responsabilité d'une non réussite.

Je sortis du comité assez peiné. Même les. ouvriers membres du comité ne m'avaient pas soutenu. J'étais seul et je résolus de continuer, seul, à suivre ma voie jusqu'au bout.

N'ayant pas encore pratiqué la lutte fractionnelle, je ne me sentais guère assuré après une telle réception du comité du Parti ; je craignais de dévier du juste chemin. Néanmoins, il n'y avait rien à faire, il fallait continuer.

La direction du syndicat, ayant préparé les matériaux de l'enquête, fit son rapport à l'assemblée générale et prépara également une liste des revendications à présenter pour l'amélioration des conditions de travail des ouvriers. Cette liste contenait 32 paragraphes qui englobaient toutes les revendications matérielles et professionnelles des ouvriers. Le syndicat ratifia cette liste, décida de la présenter le 5 mai à l'administration et de préparer les ouvriers à la grève.

Pour le Premier Mai, il avait été décidé d'appeler les ouvriers à faire la grève d'un jour et de vérifier par cette grève le degré de préparation des ouvriers à la lutte. Nous résolûmes de soumettre préalablement notre liste de revendications aux ouvriers non syndiqués.

Trois jours avant le Premier Mai, je réunis la jeunesse et lui dis de commencer à faire de l'agitation parmi les ouvriers en faveur de la grève du Premier Mai.

Les jeunes se mirent énergiquement, mais sans prendre assez de précautions, au travail. L'administration s'inquiéta de leur agitation et organisa à ce sujet une conférence présidée par le chef du port. Cette conférence résolut de décider une certaine partie des ouvriers à ne pas abandonner le travail et de mettre le préfet de la ville au courant des événements qui se préparaient. A la veille du Premier Mai, des affiches de l'organisation du Parti et un appel du syndicat, hectographié par moi, furent distribués à bord de tous les bateaux.

Nous avions résolu de ne pas organiser de meeting le soir et de le tenir le matin, dès qu'aurait commencé le travail.

Le matin du Premier Mai, tous les ouvriers montèrent à bord et certains d'entre eux se mirent même au travail ; quant aux membres du syndicat, ils fumaient paisiblement sur le pont. A 9 heures, la sirène du Victor Choumski se mit à hurler, soutenue par les sifflets des autres bateaux. L'administration, effrayée, s'affaira. Les ouvriers descendirent à terre aux cris de : « Au meeting ! au meeting ! » Ceux qui tentaient de rester à travailler furent chassés de force sur le quai. A terre, un meeting fut organisé. Quelques ouvriers et moi fîmes de courtes allocutions et, ensuite, tout le monde décida d'aller débaucher les ouvriers des ateliers, des moulins et les débardeurs. Toute notre masse se divisa en groupes et partit, chacun vers une destination donnée. Je pris une dizaine d'ouvriers et me dirigeai vers les moulins. Les ouvriers de l'un d'eux se joignirent rapidement à nous. A un autre endroit, il nous fallut organiser un meeting.

Ce meeting fut réuni à l'étage supérieur du moulin. Bientôt la police accompagnée d'une patrouille militaire arriva et nous cerna. Les agents voulurent monter, mais les ouvriers se mirent à leur jeter sur la tête des sacs de son et descendirent plusieurs flics de l'escalier. La police battit en retraite et se mit à attendre, en bas, la fin du meeting.

Lorsque le meeting fut terminé, les ouvriers décidèrent d'abandonner le travail et, en même temps, exigèrent une augmentation de salaire.

Deux équipes d'ouvriers travaillaient 12 heures par jour chacune au moulin.

J'avais avec moi le matelot Michel, qui s'était échappé du croiseur Otchakov. C'était un grand gars d'une force colossale. Il avait décidé de m'accompagner aux moulins. Lorsque nous descendîmes, nous fûmes aussitôt arrêtés et envoyés au commissariat, escortés par la patrouille.

Au commissariat, nous fûmes interrogés par l'inspecteur Gvozdev. Après. un court interrogatoire, l'inspecteur ordonna de libérer Michel et de m'enfermer dans une cellule.

Le soir, je fus de nouveau convoqué par Gvozdev. Il m'invita à m'asseoir et ordonna qu'on apporte le thé.

— Eh ! bien, Malakanov, nous savons que vous appartenez au Parti social-démocrate, c'est bien ainsi, n'est-ce pas ?

Je regardai Gvozdev, mais ne lui répondis rien.

— Nous n'avons rien contre les social-démocrates, parce que vous n'êtes pas pour l'assassinat des fonctionnaires et que vous limitez votre travail à la propagande.

J'écoutais les sentences judicieuses de l'inspecteur et continuais à me taire, attendant le moment où il se mettrait à parler son vrai langage, le langage du policier.

Je dis que nous n'aurions absolument rien contre vous, si vous ne troubliez pas la vie publique de notre ville... Nous estimons que votre conduite d'aujourd'hui est une atteinte à l'ordre public : débaucher les ouvriers des moulins, les ateliers obligés de cesser le travail en ville, tout cela nous oblige à porter notre attention sur vous.

Ici, l'inspecteur prit une feuille de papier et continua :

— J'ai reçu l'ordre du préfet de vous enjoindre de quitter la ville dans les 24 heures.

— Je ne partirai pas, fis-je d'un ton bref.

— Nous vous ordonnons quand même de quitter la ville.

— Je travaille et ne m'en irai pas.

— Cela ne me regarde pas, répliqua l'inspecteur, s'irritant. Si vous ne partez pas vous-même, nous vous expulserons. J'estime que le préfet a fait montre de beaucoup de condescendance à votre égard.

Il me donna l'ordre à signer et ajouta ces mots :

— Je vous conseille d'obéir à l'ordre du préfet.

Il ne m'avait pas offert de thé, bien qu'il y eut deux verres sur la table.

Je résolus de ne pas partir avant d'avoir accompli ma tâche.

La grève du Premier Mai fut couronnée de succès. Nos groupes de jeunes s'étaient dispersés par toute la ville et avaient fait arrêter le travail de tous les artisans, des menuisiers, des ateliers de fabrication de canots, barques, etc. Ils avaient fait quitter le travail aux ouvrières des manufactures de tabac Messaksoudi. Les usines de constructions mécaniques faisaient grève d'une manière organisée.

Beaucoup parmi les jeunes ne furent pas aussi heureux que nous : une quinzaine d'hommes furent amenés devant l'inspecteur Holbach du Ier arrondissement, qui leur fit subir un interrogatoire en règle et ne les libéra, le lendemain, que sur l'ordre du préfet.

Un meeting en plein air fut organisé, la nuit, dans les entrepôts éloignés de la ville ; plus de 1.000 personnes répondirent à notre appel ; mais la police ayant eu vent de notre réunion décida de la disperser.

Des détachements de police, sous le commandement de l'inspecteur Holbach, se dirigèrent vers la montagne. Nos francs-tireurs et une partie des matelots armés s'étaient habilement disposés en cercle autour de notre réunion.

La police mena l'offensive de trois côtés, franchit, sans la remarquer, la première barrière de francs-tireurs cachés dans les rochers et, dès qu'elle atteignit la seconde ligne de francs-tireurs, ceux-ci la reçurent par un feu nourri. Les policiers s'orientant mal dans l'obscurité, pris de panique, s'enfuirent. Les francs-tireurs sortirent de leurs abris en criant : « Hourra ! » et augmentèrent encore la panique en tirant des coups de revolver. En se sauvant, les policiers se heurtèrent aux barrières de francs-tireurs dissimulés et ceux-ci se mirent à mitrailler la police en fuite. Plusieurs policiers furent désarmés ; nous confisquâmes le revolver et le sabre du sous-inspecteur. Le sabre fut aussitôt brisé. La police subit une défaite complète et le meeting réussit entièrement. La moitié des ouvriers de la flottille étaient là ; il y avait également beaucoup d'anciens. Les débardeurs avaient bien travaillé, eux aussi.

A la fin de la réunion, nous décidâmes de descendre en corps en ville. Les francs-tireurs étaient partis par des chemins connus d'eux seuls. Nous descendîmes en tourbillon sur la large perspective Vorontzov. La police nous attendait, pensant nous attaquer, mais, voyant la foule énorme qui descendait, elle n'osa pas le faire et se mit à regarder en silence, étonnée, le torrent bruyant qui passait devant elle. L'hésitation de la police s'expliquait, non par le nombre des manifestants, mais surtout parce que la masse était constituée presque entièrement par des ouvriers avec lesquels il était dangereux de prendre contact. Le succès du Premier Mai fut énorme et l'organisation de Kertch en fut fière.

Le lendemain, la direction du syndicat se réunit pour examiner le rapport sur la préparation de la grève.

La direction présenta la liste des membres du comité de grève, ainsi que la liste des délégués qui devaient figurer légalement comme étant les dirigeants de la grève, remettre le cahier de revendications à l'administration et mener au nom du comité tous les pourparlers avec celle-ci. Il fut décidé de garder le secret, même devant les ouvriers, sur la composition du comité de grève, la composition de celui-ci ne devant être connue que de la direction du syndicat. Nos revendications politiques étaient : la fête du Premier Mai et la journée de 8 heures. Nous discutâmes longtemps s'il fallait exiger la convocation de l'Assemblée constituante, mais résolûmes de présenter, pour la première fois, le moins possible d'exigences immédiatement irréalisables.

Le Premier Mai et la journée de 8 heures étaient des questions ayant une importance politique de principe, c'est pourquoi nous estimions que ces points seraient suffisants pour donner un sens politique à notre programme économique. Parmi nos autres revendications, nous avions présenté : la création d'un comité ouvrier qui aurait le droit de contrôler le renvoi des ouvriers, et l'augmentation des salaires de 30 à 40 %. Nous élûmes pour les pourparlers une délégation composée d'anciens, parmi les plus fermes et les plus tenaces. Je fus compris dans la délégation afin de soutenir, en cas de besoin, les délégués pendant les pourparlers. Un groupe spécial de francs-tireurs, composé de jeunes, fut créé pour surveiller la police et opérer la liaison avec la troupe. A la tête de ce groupe nous plaçâmes Michel en le chargeant de ne pas laisser la jeunesse s'emballer.

La flottille en grève

Le 4 mai au soir, à la fin du travail, copie de nos revendications fut remise à tous les capitaines de notre flottille. La liste de nos revendications elle-même avait été signifiée, par notre délégation, à l'administration du port.

En remettant cette liste au chef du port, la délégation lui déclara : « Nous attendons une réponse jusqu'à demain midi ; si toutes nos revendications ne sont pas satisfaites, les ouvriers cesseront le travail ».

Le chef du port s'agita :

— Mais comment cela, sans nous prévenir ? Mais vous savez que les bateaux étrangers vont arriver dans une semaine ! Nous allons retarder le nettoyage du port, et vous pensez qu'on va nous dire merci pour cela à Pétersbourg ?

— Cela dépend entièrement de vous, répondit le président de la délégation, si toutes nos exigences sont satisfaites, les ouvriers continueront à travailler et les bateaux étrangers ne seront pas retenus à l'entrée du détroit.

Ayant salué le chef du port, la délégation sortit. Le soir, un meeting de tous les ouvriers fut organisé. Je pris la parole pour montrer les difficultés que nous allions avoir à surmonter au cours de la lutte. Je parlai des concessions que l'administration pouvait nous faire et déclarai qu'elle allait faire son possible pour mettre ensuite les « meneurs » à la porte, c'est pourquoi il fallait, à tout prix, obtenir la possibilité de créer un comité ouvrier. Les vieux ouvriers déclarèrent :

— Les gars, il a été difficile de nous faire marcher, mais du moment que nous y sommes, il faut être fermes ; vous avez peiné pour nous mettre en train, on a réduit la journée de travail, obtenons d'autres améliorations.

Le lendemain, au matin, je fus congédié. Le capitaine de mon bateau m'appela dans sa cabine et déclara :

— Par ordre du commandant du port, je dois vous renvoyer ; allez vous faire régler.

Je répondis que je ne pouvais accepter mon compte tant que je ne 'connaîtrais pas les motifs de mon renvoi.

Il était clair que l'administration me considérait comme l'organisateur de toute l'affaire et avait résolu de se débarrasser de moi au plus vite, pour faire avorter la grève naissante.

Le capitaine déclara qu'il allait transmettre au commandant du port mon refus d'accepter l'ordre de renvoi.

Je résolus d'utiliser entièrement la « franchise » avec laquelle le commandant du port m'avait déclaré que les bateaux étrangers allaient bientôt arriver au détroit. En approchant du détroit, les « étrangers » allaient sans aucun doute exiger qu'on les laissât franchir celui-ci ou qu'on leur remboursât les frais de stationnement. On attendait beaucoup de bateaux, car la campagne d'exportation du blé du port de Rostov commençait déjà.

A la réunion du comité de grève et de la délégation, j'expliquai l'importance de l'action des étrangers sur l'administration et nous résolûmes d'attirer l'attention de toute la masse ouvrière sur les « étrangers » qui pouvaient faire notre jeu. Il fut décidé également de tenir compte de ce fait lors de nos pourparlers avec l'administration.

A midi, l'ingénieur Bouïko, délégué par le commandant du port, monta à bord du Choumski et déclara que le commandant examinerait notre « pétition » et satisferait à toutes les exigences acceptables. En même temps, il ordonnait aux ouvriers de continuer le travail.

Le tumulte s'éleva parmi les ouvriers groupés autour de l'ingénieur.

Qu'il satisfasse à tout ce qui est marqué dans la liste ; pas besoin de faire des promesses, on croit pas aux paroles, qu'il signe, qu'il signe !

Allez... laissez tomber le boulot, pas besoin d'écouter ici, qu'y parle aux délégués !

Et rapidement des inscriptions en blanc apparurent sur les cheminées, le sifflet du Choleski se mit à hurler et les sifflets des autres dragueurs lui firent écho. Le 5 mai, à midi, tous les ouvriers de la flottille, l'administration et les pilotes exceptés, abandonnèrent le travail. Bouïko, ahuri par la réponse des ouvriers et le spectre de la grève qui se dressait menaçante devant lui, restait planté là, sans comprendre ce qui arrivait aux ouvriers qui n'avaient jamais parlé d'un mécontentement quelconque et qu'il tenait toujours pour si dociles et si apprivoisés. Il écartait les bras avec impuissance et marmottait d'une voix rauque : « Qu'est-ce qu'il y a ? qu'est-ce qu'il y a ? »...

Je me tenais non loin de l'ingénieur et regardais aussi, mais avec quelle joie prenante, les ouvriers qui descendaient en torrent du bord et s'éparpillaient en ruisseaux par les petites rues de la ville ; je ne m'attendais pas à un tel élan unanime.

— Nous remportons la première victoire, monsieur Bouïko ; informez-en le commandant du port.

Bouïko se retourna d'un coup vers moi et me fixa d'un regard féroce.

— Qui es-tu ?

— C'est Malakanov, lui répondit rapidement le capitaine.

— Malakanov ? Pourquoi n'est-il pas renvoyé ?

— Il a refusé de se faire régler, il exige qu'on lui dise les motifs de son renvoi.

— Congédiez-le immédiatement.

— Vous attendrez, monsieur Bouïko. On réglera nos comptes après la grève. En attendant, je vous souhaite une bonne santé !

Je soulevai ma casquette sale, lui fis un léger salut et nous descendîmes en foule à terre.

Je volais littéralement. L'ivresse de la victoire et, en même temps, l'inquiétude pour l'issue de la grève m'agitaient également.

Au bout de deux jours, la délégation se présenta chez le commandant du port et lui demanda sa décision au sujet de nos revendications.

Le commandant ne nous reçut pas. Nous fûmes reçus à sa place par son bras droit, le même ingénieur Bouïko, un type assez dégoûtant qui nous déclara que son chef ne voulait pas répondre à des exigences insolentes. Nous partîmes. Le lendemain, nous apprîmes du télégraphiste, un ami d'André, que le commandant avait reçu un télégramme du ministère du Commerce et de l'Industrie qui demandait pourquoi l'on avait arrêté le travail et ordonnait de commencer immédiatement les travaux de nettoyage du détroit.

Le cinquième jour, le chef du port nous fit savoir qu'il attendait nos représentants. Après une courte conférence, nous décidâmes de lui envoyer un des délégués pour savoir de quoi il s'agissait. Le délégué revint et nous transmit que le chef du port voulait examiner nos revendications.

Il consentait à satisfaire une partie de nos exigences, mais, quant à l'autre partie, il voulait y réfléchir.

— Réfléchissez, lui répliquai-je immédiatement ; nous attendrons encore.

Le chef du port rougit, mais demanda posément de quel bateau j'étais et quel était mon nom. Je me nommai : Malakanov. Le chef du port bondit et me cria :

— Tu es renvoyé, je ne te parle pas !

Mais les autres délégués déclarèrent que j'avais refusé d'accepter mon renvoi et que, de plus, j'avais été choisi comme délégué par tous les ouvriers de la flottille. « Par conséquent, ajoutèrent-ils, si vous ne voulez pas discuter avec lui, nous refuserons de continuer les pourparlers avec vous. » Bouïko, qui se tenait près de la table, murmura : « Ils sont vendus aux youpins. » Je fus tellement indigné par cette insolence que je me jetai sur lui les poings hauts ; effrayé, il sauta par-dessus la table et se cacha derrière le chef du port. J'attrapai un presse-papier et voulus le lui lancer à la tête. Le commandant, perdant la tête, leva les bras au ciel et se mit à les agiter en balbutiant : « Messieurs, messieurs... mais quoi... comment pouvez-vous... calmez-vous... commençons à... »

La gueule dégoûtante de l'ingénieur apeuré et l'air comique du commandant me calmèrent et je reposai le presse-papier sur la table. A la suite de cette scène, le commandant ne souleva plus la question de compétence ; il nous fit asseoir autour de la table et ordonna à l'ingénieur de s'éloigner.

Il nous déclara ensuite qu'il était prêt à satisfaire une partie de nos revendications. La délégation lui répondit qu'elle exigeait qu'il fît droit, non seulement aux revendications secondaires, mais à toutes les revendications que nous lui avions présentées. Le chef du port fit son possible pour être aimable avec nous. Il s'efforçait de nous entraîner dans une discussion que nous éludâmes. Nous lui répétâmes encore une fois nos revendications et sortîmes.

En nous éloignant, nous entendîmes l'ingénieur qui disait, mécontent :

— Quel plaisir trouvez-vous à discuter avec cette canaille ?

— Vous gâtez tout avec votre emportement.

— Il faudrait leur lâcher un régiment de cosaques sur le dos.

Dans la rue, un des délégués remarqua :

— Hein, avez-vous entendu, les cosaques ?

— Y en a pas dans la ville, des cosaques, répondit tranquillement le président de la délégation.

Tout de même, nous devions tenir compte de cette menace. S'il n'y avait pas de cosaques, il y avait des soldats... Ils pouvaient nous organiser une provocation ; ce Bouïko était un animal féroce et il nous haïssait.

Notre service de renseignements nous informa que le chef du port avait envoyé une lettre au préfet en lui demandant d'intervenir et de faire cesser la grève, mais que le préfet avait répondu, que tant qu'il n'y avait pas d'excès, il ne voulait pas en provoquer par son intervention. Nous comprîmes alors pourquoi la police ne nous touchait pas. Le préfet connaissait sans doute nos revendications ; quant à la façon dont il les envisageait, nous ne le savions pas.

Nous apprîmes également que le chef du port s'était adressé au commandant de la place, auprès duquel il avait essuyé un refus. Le commandant lui avait répondu : « Chez moi non plus, la tranquillité ne règne pas. »

Ayant reçu ces renseignements, nous les transmîmes aux ouvriers et les prévînmes en même temps de la possibilité de provocations policières.

Tous les dragueurs et les péniches furent rangés le long du quai. Aucun signe de vie à bord. Seul un ouvrier montait la garde sur chaque bâtiment. Sa tâche était de nous informer de ce que faisait l'administration du bord. Un dragueur au milieu du détroit, à l'emplacement du travail, nous inquiétait fortement. Bien que l'équipage de ce dragueur nous ait fait savoir que le Lissovski (c'était le nom du bâtiment) s'était joint à nous, néanmoins il n'avait pas amené la drague à quai. Nous craignions qu'il ne se mît à travailler la nuit.

La délégation résolut de rejoindre le Lissovski pour l'amener à quai. Le chef du port possédait un petit remorqueur qui, dans la journée, était toujours sous pression. Nous résolûmes de l'utiliser. Lorsque nous arrivâmes pour le prendre, nous rencontrâmes l'ingénieur Bouïko, qui, ayant appris que nous voulions aller à bord du Lissovski, refusa catégoriquement de nous donner le remorqueur. Nous décidâmes alors de le prendre par force.

— Ouste ! à bord les gars, pas besoin d' lambiner ici, s'écria Michaïl en sautant sur le pont du remorqueur. Mais Bouïko tourna un tuyau vers lui et lui lança un jet de vapeur à la figure. Michaïl tomba. Le mécanicien mit le moteur en marche et le remorqueur s'éloigna.

Furieux, nous engueulions l'ingénieur qui nous regardait en ricanant méchamment.

Un des délégués monta dans une barque à rames.

— Allons-y à la rame ! laissons-le se cavaler avec son remorqueur.

Nous nous assîmes dans la barque et trois paires de rames nous firent rapidement atteindre le Lissovski. Bouïko, voyant que nous étions décidés à rejoindre le Lissovski, lança le remorqueur à toute vitesse vers celui-ci, puis fit un court virage vers le bateau-signal militaire. Cette manœuvre nous inquiéta. Si Bouïko réussissait à convaincre le commandant du bateau-signal, il pourrait nous interdire l'accès du Lissovski. Je fis part de mes réflexions aux autres délégués.

— Vire sur le bateau-signal !

La barque vira vers celui-ci et nous l'atteignîmes à la suite de Bouïko. Deux délégués et moi montâmes jusqu'à la passerelle où nous fûmes reçus par le capitaine du bord.

Il riait :

— Qu'est-ce que c'est que ces visites inusitées aujourd'hui ? dit-il gaiement, en nous souhaitant le bonjour.

— Nous sommes quelque peu inquiets de la visite que l'ingénieur du port est venu vous rendre, répondîmes-nous ; voilà de quoi il s'agit : Nous sommes en grève afin d'améliorer nos conditions économiques. Un dragueur est resté dans le détroit. Nous avons voulu l'amener à quai pour qu'il ne souffre pas de la tempête, mais l'ingénieur du port s'y oppose. Nous craignons également, qu'il ne veuille vous convaincre de nous empêcher de ramener le Lissovski.

— Oui, oui, il m'a en effet prié de vous empêcher de ramener le Lissovski, mais je ne peux pas faire cela sans un ordre exprès de mes supérieurs. Je ne pourrais intervenir que si vous vous livriez à des excès à bord du Lissovski.

— Il n'y a pas d'excès qui tiennent ; de toute façon le Lissovski est en grève, seulement, en restant dans le détroit il risque de s'échouer ou de s'enliser dans la vase et nous n'avons pas le droit de le laisser s'abîmer.

Le capitaine se tourna vers l'ingénieur :

— Je vous demande pardon, M. Bouïko, mais je n'ai pas le droit de me mêler de vos affaires.

Nous redescendîmes dans la barque et rejoignîmes le Lissovski. Après avoir conféré avec l'équipage et le capitaine, nous levâmes l'ancre et amenâmes le dragueur à quai. Les ouvriers accueillirent son arrivée par des ovations joyeuses.

Un camarade du télégraphe nous apprit que le ministre du Commerce et de l'Industrie avait de nouveau télégraphié pour savoir pourquoi les travaux ne commençaient pas, le chef du port avait répondu que les ouvriers avaient organisé une grève politique. Nous décidâmes de transmettre télégraphiquement nos revendications au ministre, en déclarant que nous exigions complète satisfaction, sans quoi nous continuerions la grève.

Nous étions en grève depuis huit jours et commencions à souffrir de privations. La faim frappait déjà à la porte des familles ouvrières. Nous atteignions le passage le plus dangereux qu'il fallait absolument franchir. Dès le début de la grève, nous avions écrit à tous les syndicats de Crimée en leur demandant de soutenir notre mouvement.

Les syndicats d'Odessa et du Grand Tokmak nous déléguèrent leurs représentants avec une somme de près de cinq mille roubles. Cette aide renforça la combativité ouvrière.

L'assemblée générale des ouvriers vota, à l'unanimité, la prolongation de la grève.

La victoire

Du syndicat des marins d'Odessa, nous reçûmes un télégramme nous informant qu'une flottille comptant quatre dragueurs et huit péniches était sortie du port d'Odessa, à destination de Kertch. Ce fait nous plongea dans l'inquiétude. Nous réunîmes une assemblée générale qui choisit une délégation pour aller à la rencontre de la flottille d'Odessa et parler à son équipage. Les marins d'Odessa organisèrent une réunion à bord de leurs bateaux et décidèrent de se joindre à la grève et de se soumettre au comité de grève de la flottille de Kertch. La flottille entra dans le port, tous les bateaux se rangèrent en ordre et jetèrent l'ancre. Au matin, les habitants de Kertch contemplaient avec admiration les « invités d'Odessa » rangés au milieu de la baie.

La réunion organisée par les délégations des flottilles d'Odessa et de Kertch décida que les Odessites ne sortiraient pas du port de Kertch avant la fin de la grève. Cette décision fut communiquée aux capitaines de la flottille d'Odessa.

Le jour même de leur arrivée, le chef du port réunit en conférence les capitaines des dragueurs d'Odessa et leur reprocha de ne pas avoir su l'aider à sortir de sa situation difficile ; mais les capitaines, ayant simplement témoigné de leur impuissance, retournèrent à bord de leurs bateaux. D'Odessa la flottille reçut l'ordre de retourner à son port d'attache, mais les équipages déclarèrent qu'ils ne lèveraient l'ancre qu'une fois la grève terminée. De Marioupol, deux dragueurs reçurent également l'ordre de partir, mais les autorités de Marioupol ayant appris que les Odessites avaient adhéré à la grève, donnèrent aussitôt contre-ordre et les dragueurs restèrent à quai.

Pendant ce temps, les étrangers arrivaient déjà à l'entrée du détroit et, ne se risquant pas dans le canal bloqué, jetaient l'ancre sur place. Le douzième jour de la grève, huit bateaux étrangers stationnaient déjà.

Dans le bureau du chef du port, des scènes orageuses se déroulaient ; les capitaines des navires étrangers exigeaient que l'on fît passer leurs bâtiments : « Nous subissons des pertes importantes, déclaraient-ils, pourquoi vos dragueurs ne travaillent-ils pas

De nombreux télégrammes volaient vers le ministre ; les étrangers exigeaient qu'on leur répondit s'ils devaient attendre ou s'en retourner.

Le ministre envoya l'ordre au chef du port, de régler immédiatement le conflit et de reprendre le travail. Le chef du port s'agitait et ne savait qu'entreprendre. Bouïko s'était caché on ne savait où. La situation se tendait visiblement et l'on sentait que le chef du port allait bientôt capituler. Mais, chez les ouvriers, la faim se faisait aussi sentir ; ils faiblissaient et commençaient à hésiter. A terre, les postes policiers étaient renforcés ; souvent, près du Choumski, des gendarmes apparaissaient. Les ouvriers restaient tranquillement assis sur les bastingages et lorsque les gendarmes s'approchaient, ils les regardaient en silence. Sous ces regards les gendarmes se dépêchaient de partir. Ils n'essayaient pas d'opérer d'arrestations.

J'appuyais fortement sur la jeunesse que je gardais sous mon influence. Avant chaque réunion décidait chaque fois de « continuer la faire de l'agitation parmi les hésitants et la réunion décidait chaque fois de « continuer la grève ».

Le comité du Parti était étonné de voir une telle tenue et une telle ténacité chez cette masse dont il désespérait auparavant de tirer politiquement quelque chose.

Nous en étions au quinzième jour de grève. Dès le matin j'avais reçu un télégramme. Je lus :

Copie à Malakanov ». Je le dépliai et faillis tomber à la renverse : « Ordre ministre. Satisfaites revendications, liquidez immédiatement conflit, commencez travail. Chef cabinet. »

Nous réunîmes rapidement le comité de grève et la délégation. Le télégramme provoqua la jubilation générale : « Victoire, victoire ! »

L'on vint nous dire qu'un envoyé du chef du port cherchait partout la délégation et que le chef du port nous invitait chez lui pour reprendre les pourparlers. Nous partîmes.

Le chef du port était seul dans son cabinet. Il nous dit bonjour et me regarda d'un regard interrogateur ; il ne savait évidemment pas si j'avais reçu la copie du télégramme ou non.

— Eh bien, causons un peu, peut-être arriverons-nous à nous entendre.

— Causons, seulement nous ne changerons pas de décision.

Le commandant rougit, mais se reprit aussitôt.

— Eh bien, voyons encore une fois en quoi nous pouvons vous satisfaire. C'est à tort que tranchant.

Le chef du port fit la grimace et continua à lire ; il déclara encore que quelques revendications étaient a exagérées », mais il céda bientôt sur tous les points, excepté les trois premiers.

Nous cédâmes sur la question du Premier Mai, mais insistâmes sur la journée de huit heures pour les chauffeurs et déclarâmes, pour la seconde fois, résolument, que nous ne céderions pas sur la question du comité ouvrier. Nous ne pûmes arriver à une entente. Mes délégués n'avaient pas prononcé une parole.

Il fallait s'entendre avec lui. Regarde, toutes nos exigences sont satisfaites. On aurait pu céder sur la question du comité.

A grand peine je réussis à les convaincre de ne pas céder sur cette question. Je leur citai des exemples montrant comment les ouvriers avaient été privés de tout ce qu'ils avaient gagné pendant les grèves et leur dis qu'avec eux ce serait la même chose, et que dès que la grève serait terminée, ils seraient les premiers chassés, tandis que si nous avions un comité ayant le droit de contrôler le renvoi des ouvriers, l'administration ne pourrait pas les renvoyer arbitrairement.

Les délégués tombèrent d'accord avec moi. Il était nécessaire maintenant de réunir tous les ouvriers et d'obtenir leur acquiescement pour continuer la grève.

Nous résolûmes d'abord d'effectuer un travail préparatoire parmi les grévistes, afin de leur démontrer la nécessité d'obtenir la reconnaissance du comité ouvrier. Je réunis la jeunesse, lui expliquai l'importance de la victoire que nous avions remportée ainsi que l'instabilité de cette dernière si nous ne réussissions pas à obtenir la reconnaissance du comité ouvrier.

La jeunesse comprit parfaitement la situation et se mit à travailler énergiquement les vieux. La nuit, nous convoquâmes une réunion générale. La discussion fut chaude ; le comité de grève et la délégation eurent à soutenir un assaut formidable ; les ouvriers nous pressaient d'accepter les propositions du chef du port.

— Mais nous avons obtenu presque tout ce que nous voulions, nous pouvons céder sur la question du comité.

Ici, certains délégués hésitèrent de nouveau et se mirent à soutenir les opposants les plus tenaces. Les palabres se prolongèrent et, pendant longtemps, nous ne mîmes pas la question aux voix. Puis, je lançai les jeunes. Ils se mirent à parler l'un après l'autre. La discussion se prolongea presque jusqu'à l'aube. On escomptait la fatigue des auditeurs. Enfin nous mîmes la question aux voix. Nous eûmes la majorité : 50 voix. C'était la grève.

— Encore un effort, camarades, la victoire sera complète et le comité sera le clou de notre victoire ; nous l'enfoncerons de manière à ce qu'ils ne puissent l'arracher.

Nous nous séparâmes. Nous fîmes en sorte que le chef du port apprenne que les ouvriers avaient décidé de prolonger la grève. Nous en étions au dix-septième jour. Le soir, le chef du port invita la délégation.

— Allons, la victoire est à vous, j'accepte.

— Vous acceptez quoi, demandai-je.

— J'accepte le comité, le diable vous emporte !

— Et les huit heures aux chauffeurs ?

— Je les accepte aussi. Reprenez le travail dès demain.

— Non, il faut signer nos conditions.

— Quelles conditions ?

— Mais nos revendications à nous. Signez en deux exemplaires. Je sortis les exemplaires préparés et les posai devant lui, sur la table.

— Alors, quoi, vous n'avez pas confiance en ma parole ?

— Nous vous croyons, mais votre signature fera mieux sous nos revendications. Ça sera plus solide et nous les signerons également.

Le commandant prit notre liste, lut attentivement les deux exemplaires et, s'adressant à moi, demanda :

— Mais quoi, vous étiez sûrs de gagner la grève ?

— Oui. Dès que les étrangers sont apparus, nous n'avons plus douté de la victoire. La dernière décision de notre assemblée l'indique du reste nettement : « Continuer la grève. »

— Et qui va signer de votre côté ?

— Le président du comité ouvrier.

— Le président ? Vous avez déjà élu le comité,

— Oui, il est déjà élu.

Le chef du port signa les deux exemplaires et me tendit la plume.

— Vossiukov, signe, dis-je à l'un des délégués.

Vossiukov prit la plume de sa main calleuse qui tremblait honteusement et signa les deux exemplaires. J'en pris un pour moi et tendis le deuxième au commandant.

Monsieur le chef du port, vous devrez résoudre toutes les questions ayant trait à la mise en pratique des conventions acceptées par vous, avec le président du comité ouvrier, Vossiukov. Je vous prie d'écouter attentivement le paragraphe traitant du comité.

Je me mis à lire le paragraphe 3' :

« Les ouvriers de la flottille élisent un comité ouvrier qui aura le droit de contrôler le renvoi des ouvriers de la flottille et du port.

« En cas d'objection du comité, l'administration n'opère pas le renvoi des ouvriers. Si le comité estime nécessaire de licencier tel ou tel ouvrier, l'administration s'engage à ratifier la proposition du comité. Le comité assume le contrôle de l'application de l'accord entre les ouvriers et l'administration, signé à la fin de la grève. »

— Sachez, Monsieur le chef du port, que l'assemblée générale des ouvriers a donné pleins pouvoirs au comité pour déclarer la grève au cas où l'administration refuserait d'exécuter les clauses de l'engagement signé par elle.

Le chef du port fixait la feuille de papier et hochait silencieusement la tête.

— Allons, au revoir, demain le travail reprendra et, au fait, nos hôtes d'Odessa rentreront chez eux.

— J'espère, Monsieur Malakanov, que vous n'êtes pas compris dans l'accord ? Nous vous avons signifié votre renvoi ayant la signature, me déclara le chef du port.

— Je n'insiste pas, d'autant plus que j'ai moi-même promis de me faire régler mon compte après la grève.

Le chef sourit aigrement et ne répondit rien. Nous sortîmes.

— Ben, mon vieux, tu lui as bien parlé. Qui c'est qu'aurait pu croire que tu l'aurais forcé à signer.

— Y avait rien à faire, il avait les étrangers sur le dos. S'il n'avait pas signé il aurait de toute façon perdu la grève.

— L'enfer est pavé de bonnes intentions, mon vieux, et de belles promesses, on se serait fait empiler en deux temps.

— Et puis t'as été malin au sujet du comité, t'as nommé Vossiukov président et on n'avait même pas encore élu le comité.

— Nous l'élirons. Quant à Vossiukov, c'est un gars solide et dévoué. Nous le ferons président. Et, maintenant, tenez-vous au comité comme le curé à l'encensoir et pas un diable ne pourra vous nuire.

Le soir, nous nous réunîmes sur la rive ; le comité de grève fit un compte rendu complet sur l'accord obtenu. Nous montrâmes la signature du chef du port à tout le monde. Certains passages de notre conversation avec le chef soulevèrent des manifestations d'approbation bruyantes. Je fis un tableau de la marche de la grève et des conditions dans lesquelles elle s'était déroulée et expliquai l'importance de la solidarité des ouvriers, en fournissant comme exemple la solidarité de la flottille et des syndicats d'Odessa.

Les Odessites prirent la parole. Ils louèrent et admirèrent la fermeté et la bonne organisation des prolétaires de Kertch. Le nombre de membres de notre syndicat doubla ce soir-là.

Le comité de grève déposa ses pouvoirs. L'assemblée décida à l'unanimité de lui donner le nom de comité ouvrier et la candidature de Vossiukov en qualité de président du comité fut ratifiée. Il fut décidé que : « en cas de violation par l'administration des conditions concernant le comité ouvrier, celui-ci déclare immédiatement la grève et tous les ouvriers doivent se soumettre aux ordres du comité. »

Ayant légalisé par cette décision les pleins pouvoirs du comité ouvrier, les ouvriers heureux, enivrés de leur victoire, clôturèrent leur dernière réunion de grève.

Dans la matinée j'allai me faire régler mon compte. On travaillait ferme à bord de tous les navires. Les voix se mêlaient au bruit des marteaux. Après un mois de silence la flottille renaissait. Le dragueur Lissovski évolua lentement vers l'embouchure du détroit. Derrière lui s'alignèrent les péniches. La flottille d'Odessa s'affairait aussi, levait l'ancre au fracas de ses chaînes ; les ordres retentissaient. Les Odessites se préparaient à prendre la mer. Un soleil éclatant caressait les visages hâlés des ouvriers. Le travail reprenait avidement ses droits.

Mon compte fut rapidement réglé. Ayant fait mes adieux aux amis, je descendis sur la rive. Des éclaireurs accoururent vers moi et me prévinrent :

— File dans la steppe, les gendarmes arrivent pour t'arrêter.

Je suivis leur conseil. Je me sentais comme allégé d'un poids énorme. Toutes les difficultés et les inquiétudes de ces jours derniers s'étaient envolées. Et comment ne pas me sentir léger, lorsque je venais de gagner une victoire bolchevik importante sur le secteur du front prolétarien qui m'était assigné. Ces victoires, même partielles, vous donnaient la force nécessaire pour développer et continuer le combat, pour préparer la lutte décisive et la victoire d'Octobre 1917.

https://www.marxists.org/francais/general/nikoforov/works/00/table.htm

Rosa Luxemburg (Z pola walki Nr. 1) - Rewolucja w Petersburgu ! (25/01/1905) / La révolution à Pétersburg !

Alex — 2025-03-22T04:32:25Z

Rosa Luxemburg est-elle l'auteur cet article intitulé "Rewolucya (en polonais moderne Rewolucja) w Petersburgu !" ? Rien ne le prouve. Par souci de rigueur, dans le but de contribuer à la publication des Oeuvres complètes de Rosa Luxemburg en libre accès, nous ajoutons donc le titre du journal comme co-auteur. La référence reste pour nous le catalogue de Kaczanowska et Feliks Tych, où le présent texte viendrait juste après les entrées 306-307.

Bien entendu du point de vue militant, cette paternité du texte a une importance secondaire, car R. Luxemburg était l'âme de la revue Z pola walki (Du Champ de Bataille), supplément au Czerwoni Sztandar (Le Drapeau Rouge). Les deux journaux ont pour sous-titre : Organe de la Social-démocratie du Royaume polonais et de Lituanie (SDKPiL), le parti de Rosa Luxemburg.

Dans The Complete Works of Rosa Luxemburg, volume III (Hudis, Fair-Schultz, Pelz), Editions Verso (hors de prix, à ne surtout pas acheter) les auteurs attribuent ce texte à Rosa Luxemburg, sans justification, en massacrant d'ailleurs le titre original de l'article ("Rewoluja" au lieu de Rewolucja et "Peterburskiego" au lieu de Petersburgu !) :

Il est dommage que des universitaires qui prétendent publier les oeuvres complètes de Rosa Luxemburg, en vendant chaque volume très cher (grand bien fasse à leur carrière académique et/ou partidaire, voire à leur porte-monnaie), n'adoptent pas le même niveau de rigueur qui fut celui de F. Tych. L'homologue des éditions Verso sont les Editions Smolny, espérons que le volume correspondant en français sera d'un meilleur niveau. Nous sommes malgré tout pessimistes, car voici un extrait de la prose anti-communiste diffusée par les Editions Verso dans leur préface au volume des Oeuvres de Rosa Luxemburg qui contient notre texte : Luxemburg n'a peut-être pas entièrement répondu à la question primordiale qui nous hante aujourd'hui, à savoir quelle est l'alternative viable qui évite les résultats décevants, voire désastreux, des diverses révolutions communistes (et des efforts déployés pour les réaliser) du XXe siècle ? Mais sa perspective politique et personnelle particulière peut grandement contribuer à l'effort des socialistes, des féministes, de la société civile. Bref, le verbiage anti-communiste de la social-démocratie, qui apprécie Rosa Luxemburg ... à part le fait qu'elle était communiste et révolutionnaire.

Voir aussi cet article du CCI

Mais revenons aux choses sérieuses. Le numéro 1 de Z pola walki était le supplément au numéro 23 de Czerwoni Sztandar, voir la photo ci-dessous.

Z pola walki fut créé justement à l'occasion de la révolution de 1905. Il eut 13 numéros, correspondant à 148 pages imprimées, republiés en fac-similé en 1988 par Feliks Tych, avec une postface explicative. Seuls cinq articles (des numéros 9, 10, 11, 12 et 13) sont attribués de façon certaine à R. Luxemburg par F. Tych (entrées 338, 348, 350, 353 et 355 de son catalogue).

C'est à partir de cet ouvrage de Feliks Tych, qui mériterait une traduction intégrale en volume séparé en français, que nous avons retranscrit ce texte, et proposons une traduction.

1. W Petersburgu wybuchła rewolucja, którą rząd carski usiłuje zdusić w strumieniach krwi robotniczej i zabić milczeniem prasy. Kaci carscy wyprawiają w stolicy okrutne rzezie bezbronnych ; a prasa u nas i w Cesarstwie, skneblowana przez cenzurę, milczeć musi o największym dramacie dziejowym, jaki na wieki przejdzie do historii Rosji i do historii wszechświatowej, albo też zadowolnić się musi bezczelnie kłamliwymi komunikatami urzędowymi. Ale zabić rewolucji milczeniem nie można. A strumienie krwi robotniczej, przelanej w Petersburgu, spadną na dom Romanowych. Nie darmo lud rewolucyjny w Rosji, w przeczuciu tak bliskiego dramatu dziejowego, nazwał Mikołaja II - Mikołajem Ostatnim ! Rząd carski, nie wahający się nawet przed rzezią kobiet i dzieci, bawiących niewinnie na placach publicznych, gotuje grób nawet konstytucyjnemu panowaniu Romanowych i przygotowuje własnymi rękami republikę w Rosji !

A Pétersbourg a éclaté une révolution, que le gouvernement tsariste tente d'étouffer dans des flots de sang ouvrier et de tuer par le silence de la presse. Les bourreaux du tsar massacrent cruellement des sans-défense dans la capitale ; et la presse, chez nous et dans l'Empire, bâillonnée par la censure, doit garder le silence sur le plus grand drame historique qui marquera l'histoire russe et universelle pendant des siècles, ou se contenter de communiqués officiels menteurs et éhontés. Mais tuer la révolution par le silence est impossible. Et les flots de sang ouvrier versés à Saint-Pétersbourg retomberont sur la maison Romanov. Ce n'est pas pour rien que le peuple révolutionnaire de Russie, en prévision d'un drame historique aussi proche, a appelé Nicolas II - Nicolas le dernier ! Le gouvernement tsariste, n'hésitant pas à massacrer des femmes et des enfants jouant innocemment sur les places publiques, prépare la tombe même du règne constitutionnel des Romanov et prépare de ses propres mains une république en Russie !

2. Rewolucja wybuchła zupełnie żywiołowo i niespodziewanie. Poprzedził ją ogólny strajk robotników petersburskich, tak, że w nocy Petersburg jest bez światła, dzienniki nie wychodzą, warsztaty i fabryki stoją pustkami. Rewolucja rozpoczęta została przez część robotników, wiernych carowi i pragnących połączyć wierność dla cara z wolnością ! Chcieli iść do cara z popem Gaponem na czele, który ułożył adres wiernopoddańczy z prośbą o trochę wolności. Ale niebawem sam rząd pośpieszył wyleczyć swych wiernych poddanych z naiwnych złudzeń. Ci sami robotnicy wołają dziś : precz z Carem ! i ten sam pop Gapon prowadzi tłumy do walki przeciw carowi.

La révolution a éclaté de manière totalement spontanée et inattendue. Elle a été précédée d'une grève générale des ouvriers de Saint-Pétersbourg, si bien que la nuit, Saint-Pétersbourg est sans lumière, les journaux ne sortent pas, les ateliers et les usines sont vides. La révolution a été déclenchée par une partie des travailleurs, fidèles au tsar et désireux de combiner fidélité au tsar et liberté ! Ils voulaient aller voir le tsar, avec le Pope Gapone en tête, lui qui a composé une adresse d'allégeance demandant un peu de liberté. Mais bientôt, le gouvernement lui-même s'est empressé de guérir ses fidèles sujets de leurs illusions naïves. Les mêmes ouvriers crient aujourd'hui : à bas le Tsar ! et c'est le même Pope Gapone qui mène les foules à la lutte contre le Tsar.

3. Ponieważ cenzura nie przepuszcza żadnych wiadomości, więc dla informacji szerokiego ogółu, przedrukowujemy ważniejsze telegramy gazet zagranicznych. Ale i te wiadomości są niezupełne, gdyż rząd nie przepuszcza korespondencyj prywatnych, a oficjalna rosyjska Agencja telegraficzna stoi na usługach rządu. To tez o działalności rewelacyjnej socjaldemokratycznej masy robotniczej i Komitetu partyjnego można się tylko domyślać zaledwie z wiadomości o czerwonych sztandarach, powiewających na barykadach, o odezwach i pismach tajnych, kursujących w stolicy. Oto telegramy w kolei ich ukazywania się w pismach zagranicznych :

Comme les censeurs ne laissent passer aucune nouvelle, nous reproduisons, pour l'information du grand public, les télégrammes les plus importants des journaux étrangers. Mais même ces informations sont incomplètes, car le gouvernement ne laisse pas passer la correspondance privée, et l'Agence télégraphique russe officielle est au service du gouvernement. L'activité des masses laborieuses social-démocrates sensationnelles et du Comité du Parti ne peut être devinée que par les nouvelles des bannières rouges flottant sur les barricades, par les proclamations et les lettres secrètes circulant dans la capitale. Voici les télégrammes tels qu'ils ont été publiés dans les journaux étrangers :

Rosa Luxemburg (30/09/1905) Niech żyje rewolucja ! / Vive la révolution !

Alex — 2025-03-17T23:15:00Z

Ce texte correspond à la référence 353 du catalogue de Kaczanowska.

« Vive la révolution ! » sont les derniers mots de Marcin Kasprzak l'ouvrier révolutionnaire qui forma Rosa Luxemburg, auquel elle rend un hommage poignant suite à son exécution par le Tsar lors de la révolution de 1905.

1. Kasprzaka nie stało. Krwawy Mikołaj Ostatni zwyciężył nareszcie nieprzejednanego wroga. Zwyciężyły gwałt i przemoc, zwaliwszy niezmordowanemu bojownikowi na piersi złączoną tłuszczą — zbrojnych żandarmów, policjantów i szpíegów, zbirów w prokuratorskim mundurze i w sędziowskim, przedajnych lekarzy, krwi chciwych jenerał-gubematorów - aż powalonego o ziemię oddali w ręce kata i ną szyję nieuglętego bolownika proletariatu stryczek załozili.

2. Kasprzaka nie stało. Skonczył się żywot proletarjusza rewolucjonisty, zakończyła śmierć bohaterska żywot bohatera. Przeszło 20 lat niezmordowanej walki za wyzwolenie proletariatu — na "wolności“ niemieckiej i w podziemiach rosyjskiego knuto-władztwa, w kaźniach poznańskich, wrocławskich i warszawskich, - o gładzie i chłodzie, w nędzy i chorobie, między twardym tapczanem więziennym, a łożem boleści w lazarecie, pod nieustanną, grozą pościgów szpiegowskich i żandarmskich, pędzony nieustannie z miejsca na miejsce, bez odpoczynku, bez wytchnienia, bezdomny proletariusz — i zawsze jedną tylko żądzą i myślą natchniony : żądzą płomienną walki za wyzwolenie swych współbraci proletariuszów, których całą dolę, całe piekło istnienia wykosztował w swym życiu, myślą pnący się mimo nędzę, mimo chorobę z żelazną wytrwałością do światła, do wiedzy, do wyzwolenia duchowego, zbierający z natężoną uwagą każdą okruszynę oświaty dla dzielenia się nią z innymi, - niezłamany żadnym osobistym cierpieniem, rzucający dziesiątki razy losy ukochanych - żony i syna - na groźne fale żywota rewolucjonisty-tułacza, — zamknięty w Sobie, nieznający osobistych przyjaciół, skąpy w słowa, a wymowny czynem, prosty i skromny w szarym życiu codziennym i wyrastający naraz na bohatera w każdej chwili niebezpieczeństwa i walki. —to był Marcin Kasprzak.

3. Cenił życie, ofiarowane ludzkości, i walczył o nie z całą siłą swej woli, nieugiętej jak stal. Bronił żywota przed hordą nogajską caratu, bronił go jeszcze związany, samotny, do celi więziennej wtrącony, bezbronny — bronił go jak lew do ostatniej chwili, do ostatniego tchnienia, w bezprzykładnym pojedynku jednego przeciw tłuszczy, jeńca przeciw swym siepaczom, zamkniętych pogardą ust przeciw potokom oszczerstw, łży, krzywoprzysięstw i fałszy- wego świadectwa. Walczył jedynie siłą ducha, jak pogromca, wśród bestje drapieżne wtrącony. Walczył do upadłego.

4. A gdy gwałt zwyciężył i przyszło umrzeć - skonał, jak wielcy duchem tylko potrafią. Ostatnim jego ruchem była pięść, grożąca milcząco pachołkowí krwawego cara za prokuratorsium stołem, ostatnim jego głosem - nuta „Czerwonego Sztandaru", ostatnim słowem : „Niech żyje rewolucja !“...

5. Kaźń półtoraroozna w zabójczych kazamataoh Cytadeli dokonała swego. Gdy sterany walką bohater proletariatu polskiego dostał się nareszcie w drgające krwi i zemsty żądzą zaklęsła od suchot - choroby proletarjuszów, włosy zbielałe, przedwczesnym szronem cierpięń i nadludzkích woli wysiłków, postać - niegdyś prosta i silna jak dąb - zgięta starczo, szyja opuchła wrzodami gruźliczemi. Tak go wywIekli nareszczie zwycięzcy z pod Mukdenu, Portu Artura, Kiszyniowa i Łodzi — i katu oddali. I tu, w obliczu rusztowania, wyprostował poraz ostatni wklęsłą pierś, wcktórej z płuc już nędzne strzępy zostały, wyprostował się całą siłą, z piersi rzężącej wydobył głos ochryplły, rozbity jak miecz poszozerbiony i strzaskany w długiej, a znojnej walce, — i na korytarzu miiczącym gro- bowo cytadeií, w szarych mro- kach świtu, wśród stąpań cięż- kich żandarmów rozległa się po raz ostatni nuta ,,Czerwonego".

L'épreuve d'un an et demi dans la casemate mortelle de la Citadelle a fait son œuvre....

6 ....Krew naszą długo leją katy... śpiewał z wysiłkiem ostatnim ochrypłą krtanią męczenník walki robotniczej i szedł oddać krew swą - ostatnie co posiadał, oddawszy młodość, siłę, szczę- ście osobiste, wolność, zdrowie, czułość małżeńska i rodzicielską, ducha i ciało - szedł oddać krwi kroplę ostatnią, wytoczyć ją dla wybawienia i dla honoru klasy robotniczej.

... Notre sang coule depuis longtemps... chanta avec un dernier effort dans un larynx rauque le martyr de la lutte ouvrière et alla donner son sang - la dernière chose qu'il avait, ayant renoncé à sa jeunesse, à sa force, à son bonheur personnel, à sa liberté, à sa santé, à sa tendresse conjugale et parentale, à son esprit et à son corps - il alla donner une dernière goutte de son sang, le faire couler pour le salut et l'honneur de la classe ouvrière.

7 ...Nadejdzie jednak dzień zapłaty... —śpiewał i szedł na rusztowanie. Stanął mocny, spo- kojny, prosty, i gdy pętlicę śmiertelną zakładali na szyję, gdy postronek katowski miał się wpić W owrzodzoną, puchli- znę, aby przeciąć żywot bojow- nika, jeszcze otworzył usta, nim je miał zamknąć na wieki, iza- wołał :

Niech żyje rewolucja !

8. Robotnicy ! Ofiara była straszna i wielka. W rachunku rządu despotycznego, za który nadejść musi dzień zapłaty, śmíerć Kasprzaka wielką a krwa- wa stanowi plamę, wołającą o pomstę. Żywot ten i ta śmierć podwójnie umęczonego boha- tera walki proletarjatu świecić będzie promiennie na kartach rewolucji w caracie, na kartach rewolucji caracie, na kartach socjalizmu międzynarodowego, jako gwiazda pierwszorzędnej mocy i światłości.

9. Jeszcze w ostatniej chwili nie cność ludzka zatruć mu chciała spokój ducha. Gdy już szedł na mękę ostatnią, przyczołgali się do stóp Krzyża jego łotrowie, co przez dwanaście lat prze- szło śmierć mu moralną, zadawali, cześć jego szarpiąc oszczerstwem, przyczołgali się, by mu swym sykiem gadzinowym „cześć zwrócić“— bohaterowi, męczennikowi „zwracali cześć” ci, co jej sami nie mają ! A spieszyli się po latach dwunastu, aby zdązyc w ostatniej chwili, by ich kat nie uprzedził ; by w ostatniej chwili, gdy w obliczu szubienicy, dźwiginętej dla ich ofiary, dalsze wytrwanie przy oszczerstwach stało się już niemożliwym ratować samych siebie pred nieuniknioną pogardą ogólną ; siepacze-“socjaliści" spieszyli wypuścić z rąk swych długoletnią ofiarę, by miejsca ustąpić siepaczowi carskiemu.

10. Ale to bluźnierstwo ohydne nie zdołało przynajmniej zmącić chwil ostatnich męczennika. Nie widział i nie słyszał już nie prócz tej światłości w sobie, która mu rozwidniła ostatnią godzinę żywota, prócz tych słów, w których treść swego umęczenego życia i swej śmierci męczeńskej zmaknął :

Niech żyje rewolucja !

Rosa Luxemburg (28/08/1905) : Na wulkanie / Sur un volcan

Alex — 2025-03-16T06:03:05Z

Ce texte correspond à la référence 350 du catalogue de Kaczanowska.

Nr. 11 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 28 sierpnia 1905

Na wulkanie

« Ca ira ! »

1. Rewolucja między innymi i tym się różni od wojny że prawem jej istnienia jest bezustanny ruch - posuwanie się naprzód, rozwój swej własnej wewnętrznej logiki i konsekwencji. Pauz i zawieszania broni rewolucja nie zna, o ile się nie cofa wstecz, i ci nibyto ,,rewolucjoniści“, co czekają , głodni "efektów", ciągle tylko na jeden wulkaniczny wybuch po drugim, uważając pozorne pauzy miedzy takimi aktami, jak łódzki bój barykadowy za „martwe punkty' w pochodzie rewolucji, dowodzą tylko, że z psychologii swej są nieodrodnymi dziećmi burżuazji, obcymi duchowi rewolucji robotniczej.

La révolution, entre autres choses, diffère de la guerre en ce que la loi de son existence est le mouvement perpétuel - aller de l'avant, développer sa propre logique interne et sa propre cohérence. La révolution ne connaît pas les pauses et les cessez-le-feu tant qu'elle ne recule pas, et ces prétendus « révolutionnaires » qui attendent, avides d'« effets », une éruption volcanique après l'autre, considérant les pauses apparentes entre des actes tels que la lutte des barricades à Lodz comme des « impasses » dans le processus révolutionnaire, ne font que prouver que, du point de vue psychologique, ils sont de dignes enfants de la bourgeoisie, étrangers à l'esprit de la révolution ouvrière.

2. Po łódzkim powstaniu proletariatu nie mieliśmy w kraju naszym dotąd drugiego wybuchu tej miary. Ale gdy z jednej strony jakby natychmiastowe na łunę krwawych bojów w Łodzi odpowiedziała na południu Rosji olbrzymia łuna pożaru rewolucyjnego, szalejącego w Odessie, i czerwona bandera rewolucyjna wzniosła się na maszcie pancernika carskiej marynarki, przypominając donośnie, że rewolucja obecna jest jedną nierozerwalną wspólną sprawą proletariatu całego państwa rosyjskiego, że walka w kraju naszym tylko częścią wspólnej i ogólnej rewolucji wszechrosyjskiej - z drugiej strony i u nas w kraju dwa objawy dowiodły, że rewolucja nie stoi ani chwili na miejscu, lecz że kroczy niewstrzymanie naprzód — ku zwycięstwu.

Après le soulèvement du prolétariat à Lodz, nous n'avons pas eu jusqu'ici d'autre explosion de cette ampleur dans notre pays. Mais quand, d'une part, comme si c'était instantané, à la lueur des batailles sanglantes de Lodz répondait, dans le sud de la Russie, l'immense lueur de l'incendie révolutionnaire qui fit rage à Odessa, et que le drapeau révolutionnaire rouge s'élevait au mât du cuirassé de la marine tsariste, nous rappelant bruyamment, que la révolution actuelle est une cause commune indissoluble du prolétariat de tout l'État russe, que la lutte dans notre pays n'est qu'une partie de la révolution commune et générale de toute la Russie - d'autre part, dans notre pays aussi, deux manifestations ont prouvé que la révolution ne s'arrête pas un instant, mais qu'elle avance inexorablement - vers la victoire.

3. Pierwszy fakt, to zupełne bankructwo terroru carskiego, zastosowanego w samej Łodzi. Już dziś widomym jest i wiadomym dla wszystkich, że stan oblężenia, polityka gwałtów i próba fizycznego zmiażdżenia bohaterskiego proletariatu łódzkiego po dniach czerwcowych zawiodły kompletnie. Mimo pozorną porażkę powstania barykadowego, mimo straszny krwi upust, mimo wprowadzenie do Łodzi chmar zbrojnego żołdactwa, proletariat łódzki nie stracił ducha, nie zaprzestał walki. Tylko na krótką chwilę uniemożliwione zostały zewnętrzne szersze przejawy agitacji i walki. Dziś wewnątrz Łodzi wre agitacja socjaldemokratyczna nadał i walka kroczy naprzód. Wielkie strajki w fabryce Gayera i innych są już znowu objawem niezmordowanej energii rewolucyjnej robotników łódzkich, a może sygnałem niedalekiego wybuchu nowego strajku powszechnego.

Le premier fait est la faillite totale de la terreur tsariste appliquée à Lodz même. Il est déjà évident et connu de tous que l'état de siège, la politique des violences et la tentative d'écraser physiquement le prolétariat héroïque de Lodz après les journées de juin ont complètement échoué. Malgré l'échec apparent du soulèvement des barricades, malgré les terribles effusions de sang, malgré l'introduction à Lodz de nuées de soldats armés, le prolétariat de Lodz n'a pas perdu ses esprits, n'a pas abandonné la lutte. Ce n'est que pendant un court laps de temps que les grandes manifestations extérieures d'agitation et de lutte ont été empêchées. Aujourd'hui, à Lodz, l'agitation social-démocrate bat son plein et la lutte progresse. Les grandes grèves à l'usine Gayer et dans d'autres usines sont déjà à nouveau un symptôme de l'infatigable énergie révolutionnaire des travailleurs de Lodz, et peut-être un signal de l'éclatement imminent d'une nouvelle grève générale.

4. Drugim zaś aktem donośnym ostatnich tygodni jest — odbicie się echa walk łódzkich na prowincji. Mimo szalone wysiłki ze strony reakcji - na znak solidarności z Łodzią, stają jedne za drugimi przybytki pracy i wyzysku w całym kraju. W myśl głoszonej już przez nas dawniej idei, iż proletariat rewolucyjny musi wylegać na ulicę — odbywają się wszędzie demonstracje uliczne. Co prawda wskutek środków przedsięwziętych przez władze carskie, i wysiłków całego burżuazyjnego ,,społeczeństwa“ - manifestacje strajkowe i uliczne nie mogły już przyjąć tych olbrzymich rozmiarów, który by po strajku warszawskim 4-go maja, po stutysięcznej demonstracji łódzkiej 21-go czerwca — zdolne były zaimponować całemu światu, a jednak — proletariat polski protestował głośno i potężnie.

Le deuxième fait marquant de ces dernières semaines est l'écho de la lutte de Lodz dans les provinces. Malgré les efforts frénétiques de la réaction - en signe de solidarité avec Lodz - les établissements de travail et d'exploitation se lèvent les uns après les autres dans tout le pays. Conformément à l'idée que nous avons déjà proclamée dans le passé, à savoir que le prolétariat révolutionnaire doit descendre dans la rue, des manifestations de rue ont lieu partout. Certes, en raison des mesures prises par les autorités tsaristes et des efforts de toute la « société » bourgeoise, - les manifestations de grève et de rue ne purent prendre les proportions énormes qui auraient impressionné le monde entier après la grève de Varsovie du 4 mai, après la manifestation de 100.000 personnes à Lodz le 21 juin, mais néanmoins, le prolétariat polonais proteste haut et fort.

5. 26-go czerwca strajkuje cały lud roboczy w Warszawie, na ulicach jej pojawiają się czerwone sztandary, wzniesione zostają - jakby dla ćwiczenia się w tej sztuce rewolucyjnej — barykady ; 28, 29, 30-go zawiesza pracę Zagłębie, kryjące w swych podziemiach dziesiątki tysięcy niewolników kapitału ; 28-go staje Lublin, 4-go lipca ustaje wszelkie życie handlowe i przemysłowe w Białymstoku, tylko strzały, za strzałami słychać na ulicach ; 5-go i 6-go strajkuje w wielu punktach Radomskie ; 3-go lipca zamiera życie w Kielcach, wreszcie 18-go sierpnia znowu strajkuje cała Warszawa - na zawołanie organizacji socjaldemokratycznych tym razem na znak protestu przeciw rzezi w Białymstoku. „Precz z samo- władnym carem !“. „Niech żyje Wolność polityczna !“ - rozbrzmiewa po całej Polsce.

Le 26 juin, tout le peuple ouvrier de Varsovie se met en grève, des banderoles rouges apparaissent dans ses rues, des barricades sont érigées - comme pour pratiquer cet art révolutionnaire - ; les 28, 29, 30 juin, le quartier de Zagłębie, cachant dans ses sous-sols des dizaines de milliers d'esclaves du capital, suspend le travail ; Le 28, Lublin est en grève ; le 4, toute vie commerciale et industrielle cesse à Bialystok, seuls des coups de feu successifs sont entendus dans les rues ; les 5 et 6, la région de Radom se met en grève dans de nombreux endroits ; le 3, la vie s'éteint à Kielce, et enfin, le 18, tout Varsovie se met à nouveau en grève - à l'appel des organisations sociales-démocrates, cette fois-ci pour protester contre le massacre de Bialystok. « A bas le tsar autogestionnaire ! « Vive la liberté politique ! - résonne dans toute la Pologne.

6. Za tym ostatnie tygodnie dowiódł, że rewolucja posuwa się z żelazną logiką w dwóch kierunkach : i wgłąb i wszerz. Główne ośrodki, stare wulkany walki robotniczej-Warszawa i Łódź - niewyczerpane olbrzymi wylewami rewolucyjnymi, nie zmiażdżone najdzikszymi wysiłkami reakcji, działają niezachwianie dalej ; pierwsze, przodujące szeregi proletariatu polskiego pokazują, ze nie znają wahań ani zmęczenia. Jednocześnie z ośrodków tych walka rozlewa się coraz bardziej na prowincję, rozszerzając nieustannie teren rewolucji. i te dwa objawy to właśnie najcenniejsze gwarancje, że sprawa rewolucyjna rozwija się podług wszelkich praw ruchu zdrowego, silnego, ruchu masowego proletariatu.

Derrière cela, les dernières semaines ont prouvé que la révolution avance avec une logique de fer dans deux directions : vers l'intérieur et vers l'extérieur. Les centres principaux, les vieux volcans de la lutte ouvrière - Varsovie et Lodz - inépuisables par les immenses effusions révolutionnaires, non écrasés par les efforts les plus fous de la réaction, continuent d'agir sans relâche ; les premiers rangs du prolétariat polonais montrent qu'ils ne connaissent ni l'hésitation ni la lassitude. En même temps, de ces centres, la lutte se répand de plus en plus dans les provinces, élargissant sans cesse le terrain de la révolution. et ces deux manifestations sont précisément les garanties les plus précieuses que la cause révolutionnaire se développe selon toutes les lois d'un mouvement sain et fort, le mouvement du prolétariat de masse.

7. W rewolucjach burżuazyjnych zmęczenie i czerpanie jest objawem nieuniknionymi i historycznie niezbędnym. Rewolucje bowiem burżuazyjne, zawsze na nieświadomym przecenianiu własnych celów, na iluzji oparte, zawsze posługujące się za pomocą tej iluzji siła, ludu roboczego, popychającego za każdym razem falę rewolucyjne, dalej, aniżeli to odpowiadało interesom klasowym kierowniczej burżuazji, rewolucje te miały stale po najwyższych wysiłkach okres cofania się. Zmęczenie i wyczerpania się w walce było tu zawsze tym symptomem psychicznym, który wskazywał, że następuje przełom, że rewolucja, zapędziwszy się zbyt daleko, zaczyna słabnąć i opadać. Tak się działo w Wielkiej Rewolucji Francuskiej, takie były dzieje rewolucji 1848 roku.

Dans les révolutions bourgeoises, la fatigue et l'essoufflement sont un symptôme inévitable et historiquement nécessaire. Car les révolutions bourgeoises, toujours basées sur une surestimation inconsciente de leurs propres objectifs, sur une illusion basée sur une illusion, utilisant toujours, au moyen de cette illusion, le pouvoir des travailleurs, poussant la vague révolutionnaire chaque fois plus loin que ce qui correspondait aux intérêts de classe de la bourgeoisie dirigeante, ces révolutions avaient constamment, après les plus grands efforts, une période de recul. La fatigue et l'épuisement dans la lutte étaient ici toujours le symptôme psychique qui indiquait qu'une rupture était en train de se produire, que la révolution, s'étant aventurée trop loin, commençait à s'affaiblir et à reculer. C'est ce qui s'est passé dans la Grande Révolution française, c'est ce qui s'est passé dans la Révolution de 1848.

8. Obecnie carat i burżuazja nasza daremnie spekulują, na zmęczenie i wyczerpanie energii proletariatu. Rewolucja robotnicza, dzięki kierownictwo socjaldemokracji, jasna, ma świadomość swych dróg i celów, a klasa proletariatu, jako prawdziwie rewolucyjne, walcząca dziś po raz pierwszy sama dla siebie, w interesie przybliżenia własnego wyzwolenia, nie zna, nie może znać ani cofania się, ani zmęczenia w walce. Ostatnie tygodnie wykazały znowu, że rząd carski, że cały obecny porządek polityczny stoi na wulkanie, w którym lawa to starymi kraterami wyrzuca ogniste strumienie, to coraz nowe tworzy sobie ujścia z boku, przez skorupę, aż się połączy w jedno płomienne morze rewolucyjne i zatopi bez śladu ruderę ostatniego rządu despotycznego.

Actuellement, la bourgeoisie tsariste et notre bourgeoisie spéculent en vain sur la fatigue et l'épuisement de l'énergie du prolétariat. La révolution ouvrière, grâce à la direction de la social-démocratie, est claire, a conscience de ses voies et de ses objectifs, et la classe du prolétariat, en tant que véritable révolutionnaire, luttant aujourd'hui pour la première fois pour elle-même, dans l'intérêt de rapprocher sa propre libération, ne connaît ni la retraite ni la fatigue dans la lutte. Les dernières semaines ont montré une fois de plus que le gouvernement tsariste, que l'ensemble de l'ordre politique actuel repose sur un volcan dont la lave crache des flots ardents à partir des anciens cratères et crée toujours de nouvelles sorties sur les côtés, à travers la croûte, jusqu'à ce qu'elle se fonde en une mer révolutionnaire ardente et fasse sombrer sans laisser de traces la masure du dernier gouvernement despotique.

Matière et Révolution

La révolte du Potemkine

Christian Rakovski Les origines de la révolte du Potemkine

Les tâches des révolutionnaires face au mouvement du 10 septembre : souvenons-nous de 1905 !

Les tâches des révolutionnaires face au mouvement du 10 septembre

The Mass Strike, the Political Party and the Trade Unions

The Strategy of October 1917 Revolution Wrote in 1906

Leon Trotsky . Results and Prospects (1906)

Avril 1906 : ЧЕТВЕРТЫЙ (ОБЪЕДИНИТЕЛЬНЫЙ) СЪЕЗД РСДРП - Rosa Luxemburg adhère au parti de Lénine, le POSDR

L'action et le procès du Soviet de Pétrograd en 1905

L'action et le procès du Soviet de Pétrograd en 1905

Mutinerie des marins russes pendant la révolution de 1905

Rosa Luxemburg (Z pola walki Nr. 1) - Rewolucja w Petersburgu ! (25/01/1905) / La révolution à Pétersburg !

Rosa Luxemburg (30/09/1905) Niech żyje rewolucja ! / Vive la révolution !

Rosa Luxemburg (28/08/1905) : Na wulkanie / Sur un volcan

Christian Rakovski
Les origines de la révolte du Potemkine

Leon Trotsky
.

Results and Prospects

(1906)