The Russian Revolution has only just begun, and yet it is already revealing with perfect clarity the familiar features of bourgeois political revolutions. The lower strata struggle; the upper echelons reap the rewards. The staggering burdens of revolutionary struggle fall entirely—and continue to fall—upon the proletariat as a class, and upon individual members of the bourgeois intelligentsia who have emerged from its ranks. Of the freedoms that have already been partially won (or rather, of the meager scraps of freedom that have been secured), fully nine-tenths accrue to the social elites, to the non‑working classes. In Russia, contrary to all legal precepts, freedom of speech, assembly, and the press now prevails—far greater than it was ten years ago, far greater than it was a year ago—but these freedoms are enjoyed on any significant scale only by bourgeois newspapers and by “liberal” assemblies. Workers clamor for freedom, breaking through to realms previously unknown to them and long regarded as utterly beyond their reach; yet this infiltration of proletarian elements does not disprove, but rather confirms our thesis. The degree of active participation in political struggle is inversely proportional to the extent to which the fruits of that struggle are appropriated. The ratio between legal and illegal (that is, between what is sanctioned by law and what is outlawed) movements becomes ever more “favorable” the more advantageous the position of a given class within the socio‑economic order. The movement of the liberal bourgeoisie has spread so widely—especially after January 9—that, in forms tolerable under the law, the illegal liberal movement is fading before our very eyes with astonishing rapidity. The movement of the working class, despite having taken one of its most crucial turns into an almost “legitimate” form—namely, the submission of a petition to the Tsar by the workers of St. Petersburg—proved to be thoroughly illegal and subject to the severest, military-style repression. The movement of the working class has grown even more extensive, yet the balance between legal and illegal elements has changed little, if at all, in favor of the former.

Why this disparity? Precisely because the entire socio‑economic order of Russia ensures the greatest benefits for those who labor the least. Under capitalism, things cannot be otherwise. This is the law of capital, which subordinates not only economic life but also political life itself. The movement of the lower strata stirs up revolutionary energy; it rouses a mass of people capable, first, of bringing about a genuine upheaval of the entire decaying edifice—and, second, of being unbound by the peculiarities of their own situation, free to cast off that very edifice should they choose. What is more, even without fully comprehending their ultimate goals, this popular mass is nonetheless both capable and inclined to tear down the old order, for its position is utterly hopeless, for perpetual oppression drives it onto the path of revolution, and for it has nothing to lose save its chains. This popular force—the proletariat—appears so formidable to the rulers of the decaying edifice precisely because there is something inherently threatening in the very condition of the proletariat. Accordingly, even the smallest movement of the proletariat, however modest it may seem at first, no matter how trivial its initial cause, is bound to outgrow its immediate aims and to become irreconcilable, destructive of the entire old order.

Because of the most fundamental characteristics of the proletariat’s position under capitalism, the movement of the proletariat is driven inexorably toward a desperate struggle for everything—to achieve complete victory over all that is dark, exploitative, and enslaving. By contrast, the movement of the liberal bourgeoisie, for the same reasons (namely, due to the basic features of the bourgeoisie’s position), tends toward compromise rather than struggle, toward opportunism rather than radicalism, toward the cautious calculation of the most likely and feasible near‑term gains rather than the “unconventional,” bold, and resolute claim to total victory. Whoever fights in earnest fights naturally for everything; whoever prefers compromise to struggle naturally forecloses the “pieces” he is willing to settle for, at best (and in the worst case, he may even be content to forgo struggle altogether—i.e., to make peace, for the long term, with the rulers of the old world).

It is therefore perfectly natural that Social Democracy, as the party of the revolutionary proletariat, should care so deeply about its program, so meticulously define its ultimate goal—namely, the complete emancipation of the working people—and so jealously guard against any attempt to curtail that ultimate aim[65]. For the same reasons, Social Democracy adheres with such dogmatic rigor and doctrinaire inflexibility to the distinction between minor, immediate economic and political objectives and the ultimate goal. He who fights for everything, for complete victory, must beware lest small gains bind his hands, lead him astray, or cause him to forget that the road ahead still lies far off—and that without the ultimate goal, all minor conquests are but vanity of vanities. On the other hand, for the party of the bourgeoisie—even the most freedom‑loving and most people‑oriented among them—it is incomprehensible and alien to take such care over programs, to maintain a perpetually critical stance toward small, incremental improvements[66].

We would now like to draw readers’ attention to one such sophism. The main features of the proposed constitutional draft are well known: monarchy is to be preserved—the question of a republic is not even debated (clearly, the “practical politicians” of the bourgeoisie do not regard this question as serious!); a bicameral parliamentary system is to be established, with universal, direct, equal, and secret suffrage for the lower house, and with two‑tier elections for the upper house. Members of the upper house are to be elected by zemstvo assemblies and city councils. We deem it unnecessary to dwell on the details of this draft. What is of interest is its overall design and its “principled” defense.

The defense of the bicameral system begins, for liberals, with an examination of the alleged objections to it. Notably, these objections are drawn almost entirely from the familiar milieu of liberal‑populist ideas that are widely propagated in our legal press. According to this line of reasoning, Russian society possesses a “deeply democratic character”; in Russia, there is no such thing as an upper class—no class endowed with political influence, wealth, and the like—since the nobility here was a service‑oriented estate devoid of “political ambition,” and its material standing has long been “undermined.” From the standpoint of a social democrat, it is laughable even to take these populist platitudes seriously; not a single word of truth can be found in them. The political privileges enjoyed by the Russian nobility are well known; its power is immediately evident in the tendencies of the conservative and moderate—or Šipovskian—parties; and its material position is “undermined” only by the bourgeoisie, with which the nobility has increasingly merged—and yet this very undermining does nothing to diminish the fact that the nobility still controls colossal resources, enabling it to exploit tens of millions of working people. Conscious workers must not harbor any illusions on this score; the populist rhetoric about the insignificance of the Russian nobility serves liberals solely to sweeten the pill of the coming constitutional privileges granted to the nobility. Such liberal logic is psychologically inevitable: one must portray our nobility as insignificant in order to present the privileges accorded to it as a trivial departure from democracy[68].

Psychologically inevitable, too, given the bourgeoisie’s position between the hammer and the anvil, are the idealistic phrases now wielded—with such tasteless extravagance—by our liberalism in general, and by its favorite philosophers in particular. “For the Russian liberation movement,” we read in the explanatory memorandum, “democracy is not merely a factual reality but also a moral and political postulate. Above and beyond any historical justification for a given social form, it posits a moral justification…” What a fine example of that inflated, utterly empty rhetoric with which our liberals “justify” their approach to betraying democracy! They complain of “the harshest criticisms (?), leveled against the Russian liberal party by representatives of more radical elements, alleging that this party seeks to replace autocratic bureaucracy with autocratic rule by the bourgeois‑nobility”—and yet, at the same time, they compel the only truly democratic institution in their draft—the Chamber of People’s Representatives—to share power both with the monarchy and with the upper, zemstvo chamber!

Here are their “moral” and “moral‑political” arguments in favor of the upper house. First, “the bicameral system exists throughout Europe, with the sole exceptions of Greece, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Luxembourg…” So it does not exist everywhere, then—if there are a number of exceptions? And besides, what kind of argument is that? Europe is home to countless anti‑democratic institutions; therefore… therefore, our “deeply democratic” liberalism ought to adopt them? Their second argument: “it is dangerous to concentrate legislative authority in the hands of a single body”; we must create another body to correct errors, to counter “too hasty” decisions—“Should Russia really dare to be bolder than Europe?” Thus, Russian liberalism does not wish to be bolder than Europe, which has already knowingly forfeited all its progressive potential out of fear of the proletariat! One might say, what fine leaders of the “liberation” movement these are! Russia has yet to take a single truly serious step toward freedom, and yet the liberals already fear “haste.” Surely, gentlemen, with arguments like these, could one not also justify a rejection of universal suffrage?

Their third argument: “one of the principal dangers threatening every political order in Russia is the tendency toward Jacobin centralism.” What horrors! The opportunist liberals, it seems, are quite willing to borrow the weapon against the democracy of the popular masses from the opportunists of social democracy—namely, the Novoiskrovists. The absurd scarecrow of “Jacobinism,” conjured up by Axelrod, Martynov, and Co., serves the emancipators quite well. But allow me to ask, gentlemen: if you truly feared the extremes of centralism (and not the “extremes” of consistent democracy), then why would you seek to restrict universal suffrage in local, zemstvo, and municipal institutions?? Yet you do restrict it. Article 68 of your draft stipulates that “any person entitled to vote in elections to the Chamber of People’s Representatives shall likewise be entitled to vote in local elections, provided that they have maintained permanent residence in the given county or city for a period not exceeding one year.” This article introduces a property qualification; it effectively renders the franchise non‑universal, since everyone knows that it is precisely workers, laborers, and day‑laborers who most often wander from town to town, from county to county, without any stable settlement. Capital shifts the working masses from one end of the country to the other, depriving them of settled homes—and for this very reason, the working class must lose a portion of its political rights!

This restriction on universal suffrage is applied precisely to those zemstvo and municipal institutions that elect the upper, zemstvo chamber. In the name of combating the supposed extremes of Jacobin centralism, two distinct deviations from democracy are employed: first, the restriction of universal suffrage through a residency qualification; second, the abandonment of the principle of direct election in favor of a two‑stage electoral process! Is it not now abundantly clear that the scarecrow of Jacobinism serves only the various opportunists?[69]

Yes, it is no accident that Mr. Struve expressed his fundamental sympathy for the social‑democratic Girondins—those New-Iskra adherents—and no accident that he heaped praise upon Martynov, the famed opponent of “Jacobinism.” The social‑democratic foes of Jacobinism are directly paving—and continue to pave—the road for liberal bourgeois.

The claim made by the “Liberationists” that it is precisely the upper house, elected by zemstvo institutions, that can embody the “principle of decentralization,” that can express the “moment of diversity among the various parts of Russia,” is sheer nonsense. Decentralization cannot be realized through the restriction of universal suffrage; diversity cannot be expressed by curtailing the principle of direct elections. This is not the crux of the matter—which the Liberationists are so eager to obscure. The real issue is that, according to their own system, the upper house will inevitably become, above all and primarily, an organ of the nobility and the bourgeoisie, since it is the proletariat that is most severely marginalized by the property qualification and the two‑tier electoral system. The essence of this matter is so clear to anyone with even a modicum of familiarity with political questions that the authors of the draft themselves anticipate the inevitable objection.

“But they will say,” we read in the memorandum, “no matter how elections are organized, the decisive influence in local life will still rest with large landowners and the entrepreneurial class. We believe,”—what a profoundly democratic notion!—“that here too, an exaggerated fear of the ‘bourgeois element’ is at play. There is nothing unjust about granting the landed and industrial classes ample opportunity to represent their interests (universal suffrage is insufficient for the bourgeois element!), provided that, alongside this, broad avenues are opened for the representation of other segments of the population. Only privileges are morally unacceptable—and politically dangerous!”

Let the workers remember this “liberal” morality well. It allows them to boast of democracy, to denounce “privileges,” and to justify the property qualification, the two‑tier electoral system, monarchy… Monarchy, it seems, is not a “privilege”—or perhaps it is a privilege that is morally acceptable and politically harmless!

How well our leaders of the “liberationist” movement from within society are beginning! Even in their boldest projects—projects that do not bind their entire party—they already contrive in advance justifications for reaction, defending the privileges of the bourgeoisie while sophistically arguing that a privilege is not, in fact, a privilege. Even in their most free from material calculation, most distant from immediate political goals, literary endeavors, they are already prostituting the very concept of democracy and slandering the most consistent bourgeois democrats—the Jacobins of the Great French Revolution. What, then, lies ahead? How will the responsible party members and pragmatic politicians of the liberal bourgeoisie speak when even the most idealistic liberals are already engaged in the theoretical preparation of betrayal? If the most daring aspirations of the far‑left liberationists do not extend beyond a monarchy with a bicameral parliament—if this is all that the ideologues of liberalism are demanding, then on what terms will the practical men of liberalism come to an agreement?

For the revolutionary proletariat, the political sophisms of liberalism provide a small but valuable resource for gaining insight into the true class nature—even of the most advanced elements within the bourgeoisie.

“Vpered,” No. 18, May 18 (5), 1905

Printed from the text of the newspaper “Vpered,” verified against the manuscript

The first page of the Bolshevik newspaper “Proletariy,” No. 1, May 27 (14), 1905, featuring V. I. Lenin’s article “Notice Concerning the Third Congress of the Russian Social-Democratic Workers’ Party” and the congress’s principal resolutions