The revolutionary upsurge of the Moscow proletariat, so vividly expressed in the political strike and street battles, has yet to subside. The strike continues—and has, in part, spread to Petrograd, where compositors are striking in solidarity with their comrades in Moscow. It remains uncertain whether the current movement will ebb away with the next wave of turmoil or whether it will assume protracted, drawn-out forms. Yet certain results of the Moscow events—results that are both instructive and profoundly revealing—are already becoming apparent, and it is upon these results that we must now focus our attention.

On the whole, the movement in Moscow did not escalate into a decisive clash between revolutionary workers and the forces of tsarist autocracy. What unfolded were little skirmishes at outposts—perhaps, in part, a military demonstration within the context of civil war—but by no means one of those engagements that ultimately determine the outcome of a conflict. Of the two hypotheses we advanced a week ago, the first appears to have been confirmed: what we are witnessing is not the onset of a full-scale offensive, but rather a mere rehearsal for such an offensive. Still, this rehearsal brought all the actors in this historical drama into sharp relief, shedding brilliant light on the likely—and in some respects, even the inevitable—course of the unfolding drama itself.

The catalyst for the Moscow events was an incident that, at first glance, seemed purely academic in nature. The government granted universities a partial “autonomy”—or, more accurately, a purported autonomy. Professors were granted self‑governance; students were given the right to convene assemblies. In the overarching system of autocratic, serf‑like oppression, a small breach had thus been opened. And into this breach, new revolutionary currents surged with unexpected force. A minuscule concession—a tiny reform enacted in the hope of blunting political antagonisms and “reconciling” robbers with those they plundered—instead triggered a profound intensification of the struggle and a broadening of its participants. Workers began to pour into student assemblies, giving rise to revolutionary mass meetings in which the vanguard class in the fight for freedom—the proletariat—emerged as the dominant force. The government was incensed. The “respectable” liberals, who had secured professorial self‑government, flailed about in panic, darting from the revolutionary students to the police state, to the government armed with batons. The liberals seized upon freedom in order to pervert it—to keep students from expanding and intensifying the struggle, to preach “order” in the face of the bashibozuks and Black Hundreds, in the presence of Lords Treпов and Romanov! The liberals used self‑government as a tool to govern the affairs of the people’s executioners, to close the university—a pure sanctuary of “science,” permitted by the baton‑wielding authorities, which the students had defiled by admitting “vile rabble” to discuss questions “not authorized” by the autocratic clique. The self‑governing liberals betrayed the people and betrayed freedom, for they feared a pitched battle within the university. And they were, in a sense, justly punished for their base cowardice. By closing the revolutionary university, they unleashed street revolution. These pitiful pedants had already begun to rejoice, racing ahead of the scoundrels led by Glazov, that they had managed to extinguish the fire in the school. In truth, however, they had only fanned the flames in a vast industrial city. These wooden-legged figures forbade workers from going to the students; in doing so, they only pushed the students toward the revolutionary workers. They viewed all political questions through the narrow lens of their own pigeonhole—a coop thoroughly permeated by centuries of state control—and they implored the students to spare this very coop. All it took was the first fresh breeze, the emergence of a free and youthful revolutionary spirit—and suddenly everyone forgot even to think about the coop, for the wind grew stronger, transforming into a storm directed against the very source of all state control and all outrages committed against the Russian people: against tsarist autocracy. Even now, when the initial danger has passed and the tempest has clearly subsided, the lackeys of autocracy still tremble with fear at the mere memory of the abyss that yawned before them during those bloody days in Moscow: “It is not yet a conflagration,” g. Menshikov muttered in the lackey’s Neue Zeit (September 30), “but it is already an unmistakable act of arson”—“it is not yet a revolution… but it is already a prologue to revolution.” “‘It is coming,’ I argued (g. Menshikov) back in April—and since then, what terrifying steps ‘it’ has taken!... The people’s elemental force has been stirred up to its very depths…”

Indeed, Trepov and Romanov found themselves caught in a tight vice, along with the traitorous liberal bourgeoisie. Open the university—you provide a platform for popular revolutionary assemblies, rendering an invaluable service to social democracy. Close the university—you unleash street struggle. And our knights of the whip writhe in frustration, gnashing their teeth: they reopen the Moscow university; they pretend to wish to allow students to maintain order themselves during street processions; they turn a blind eye to the students’ revolutionary self‑government, as the students organize themselves into factions—Social Democrats, Socialist Revolutionaries, and the like—forming a proper political representation within the student “parliament” (and we are confident that they will not limit themselves to revolutionary self‑government alone, but will immediately and earnestly set about organizing and arming detachments of the revolutionary army). Alongside Trepov, the liberal professors also toss and turn, rushing to plead—today with the students, urging them to be more modest; tomorrow with the baton‑wielding officers, imploring them to be gentler. The frantic maneuvers of both sides give us the greatest pleasure; it is a sign that the revolutionary wind is blowing strong, if political commanders and political turncoats leap so high on the upper deck.

But beyond legitimate pride and rightful satisfaction, true revolutionaries must draw something even more profound from the events in Moscow: a clearer understanding of which social forces are at work in the Russian Revolution—and how precisely those forces operate. Imagine the political sequence of the Moscow events, and you will see a remarkably typical and class‑specific picture of the entire revolution. Here is that sequence: a small breach is torn in the old order; the government attempts to patch up the breach with token concessions, deceptive “reforms,” and the like; instead of pacification, we witness a new intensification and broadening of the struggle; the liberal bourgeoisie wavers and flails about, alternately dissuading revolutionaries from revolution and urging the police to counteract reaction; the revolutionary masses, led by the proletariat, step onto the stage, and open confrontation gives rise to a new political situation; on the newly won, higher, broader battlefield, another breach is once again forced in the enemy’s fortifications, and the movement rises ever higher, along the same path. Before our eyes, we see a steady retreat by the government—“a perfectly accurate observation,” as the Moscow Vedomosti recently noted. And one liberal newspaper added, not without a touch of wit: “a retreat fought with rearguard actions.”{131} A correspondent for the liberal Berlin newspaper Vossische Zeitung telegraphed from St. Petersburg on October 3 (16), reporting on his conversation with Trepov’s chief of staff. “From the government,” the police rat told the correspondent, “there is no reason to expect the implementation of any coherent plan—each day brings developments that could never have been foreseen. The government is forced to maneuver; brute force cannot suppress the current movement, which may drag on for two months or for two years.”

Indeed, the government’s tactics have become abundantly clear: it is, without question, a strategy of maneuvering and retreat—with rearguard battles. And from the standpoint of autocratic interests, this is an utterly correct tactic: it would be a grave error—a fatal delusion—for revolutionaries to forget that the government can continue to retreat for a very, very long time without losing its most essential prerogatives. The example of the unfinished, bastardized half‑revolution in Germany in 1848—(an example to which we shall return in the next issue of Proletariy, and one we will never tire of recalling)—shows that even after retreating all the way to the convocation of a constituent assembly (albeit only in name), the government still retains sufficient strength to triumph over the revolution in the final, decisive battle. That is why, as we study the events in Moscow—the last engagement in the long series of battles that make up our civil war—we must face reality with sober clarity, prepare with the utmost energy and the greatest tenacity for a protracted, desperate struggle, and beware of those allies who have already begun to defect.

When nothing decisive has yet been won, when the enemy still has vast room to carry out further retreats—retreats that are both advantageous and safe—and when the fighting grows ever more intense, then to place trust in such allies, to attempt to strike deals with them, or simply to support them under certain conditions, may prove not only foolish but even treasonous toward the proletariat.

In truth, was the conduct of the liberal professors before and during the Moscow events merely a matter of chance? Is this an exception, or rather the rule for the entire Constitutional Democratic Party? Does this behavior reflect the particular idiosyncrasies of this particular faction within the liberal bourgeoisie, or does it embody the fundamental interests of this entire class as a whole? Among socialists, there can be no disagreement on these questions—but not all socialists consistently know how to pursue a truly socialist tactic.

To better grasp the essence of the matter, let us turn to the liberals’ own account of their tactics. In the pages of the Russian press, they avoid speaking directly against the Social Democrats—and indeed, they often refrain even from mentioning the Social Democrats by name. Yet consider this intriguing report from Berlin’s Vossische Zeitung, which undoubtedly expresses the views of the liberals with greater candor:

“Student unrest has flared up once again—both in St. Petersburg and in Moscow—with extraordinary intensity from the very outset of the academic year, despite the autonomy granted to universities and higher educational institutions—albeit, it must be said, far too late. In Moscow, moreover, these disturbances have been accompanied by a broad workers’ movement. These upheavals signal the onset of a new phase in the Russian revolutionary movement. The course of student assemblies and the resolutions they adopt reveal that the student body has adopted the rallying cry of the Social-Democratic leaders: to transform universities into venues for popular assemblies and thereby carry the revolution into the broader masses. How this slogan is being put into practice has already been demonstrated by Moscow’s students: they invited workers and other individuals who had no connection whatsoever to the university into the university building—and in such numbers that the students themselves were left in the minority. It goes without saying that under the existing conditions such a situation cannot endure for long. The government would rather close the universities than tolerate such gatherings. This is so obvious that at first glance it seems almost incomprehensible how the Social-Democratic leaders could have issued such a call. They knew full well where this would lead; indeed, their very aim was to push the government toward closing the universities. But why on earth would they do that? Simply because they seek to obstruct the liberal movement by every possible means. They recognize that they are incapable of carrying out any major political action on their own; therefore, let the liberals and radicals not dare to do anything at all—after all, as they see it, such efforts would only harm the socialist proletariat. The proletariat must win its rights through its own efforts. Russian Social-Democracy can take great pride in this “unyielding” (unbeugsame—unbending) tactic—but to any impartial observer, it must appear strikingly shortsighted; it is unlikely to lead Russian Social-Democracy to victory. It is utterly unclear what benefit it could possibly gain from the closure of universities—a fate that is inevitable if this kind of tactic continues. Meanwhile, the continued operation of universities and higher educational institutions is of paramount importance for all progressive parties. Prolonged strikes by students and professors have already inflicted severe damage on Russian culture. The resumption of academic work is urgently needed. Autonomy has made it possible for professors to conduct their teaching activities freely. Accordingly, the professors of all universities and higher educational institutions are united in their conviction that it is essential to resume teaching with renewed vigor. They are exerting every influence at their disposal to persuade students to abandon the Social-Democratic slogan.”

Thus, the struggle between bourgeois liberalism (the constitutionalist democrats) and the Social Democrats has become fully clear. “Do not interfere with the liberal movement!”—this is the slogan, brilliantly articulated in the article we have cited. But what, precisely, does this “liberal movement” consist of? It is a reactionary movement, for while professors enjoy—and wish to continue enjoying—the freedom of the university, they employ that freedom not for revolutionary purposes, but for counterrevolutionary preaching; not to fan the flames of revolution, but to quell them; not to expand the field of struggle, but to divert attention away from decisive combat and toward peaceful collaboration with the Trepovs. When the struggle intensifies, the “liberal movement,” as we have seen in practice, often shifts its allegiance—from revolutionaries to reactionaries. Liberals certainly bring us some measure of benefit, since they introduce a degree of hesitation into the ranks of the Trepovs and other servants of the Romanovs—but this benefit will not outweigh the harm caused by their sowing discord within our own ranks unless we resolutely break with the constitutionalist democrats and relentlessly denounce every vacillating step they take. Conscious—or more often, merely sensing—their dominance in the modern economic order, liberals strive to exercise hegemony even in the realm of revolution, dismissing any extension, expansion, or intensification of the revolution beyond the most trivial patchwork as an “obstacle” to the liberal movement. Fearing for the fate of the university “freedom” that Trepov has ostensibly granted, they now fight against revolutionary freedom itself. Fearing the legal “freedom of assembly” that the government will grant tomorrow—in a form grotesquely distorted by the police—they will seek to prevent us from using these assemblies for truly proletarian purposes. And fearing for the fate of the State Duma, they already displayed prudent moderation at the September congress—and they are now demonstrating that same moderation as they battle the idea of a boycott: “Let us be allowed to do our work in the State Duma!”

The dialectics of self-movement and cognition are the very essence of Marxism. Imperialism, as a stage of capitalism, is characterized by the relentless accumulation of surplus value through the exploitation of the working class—this is the fundamental contradiction that drives the historical development of society. The bourgeoisie, as the ruling class, seeks to maintain its dominance by harnessing the contradictions inherent in the capitalist mode of production. Yet, within this very process, the proletariat emerges as the vanguard of revolutionary change, driven by the inexorable logic of history itself.

It is a source of shame for social democracy that opportunists have emerged within its ranks—individuals who, through a dogmatic and lifeless distortion of Marx’s teachings, have fallen prey to this deceptive line of reasoning! They argue: “The revolution is bourgeois; therefore… therefore, we must retreat step by step as the bourgeoisie secures concessions from the tsarist regime.” If the Novoiskrovtsy still fail to recognize the real significance of the State Duma, it is precisely because, in retreating themselves, they naturally fail to perceive the reactionary turn taken by the constitutional-democratic faction. And the fact that the Iskra group had already begun to retreat since the enactment of the State Duma Law is an undeniable reality. Before the State Duma, they never considered placing the question of an alliance with the constitutional-democrats on the agenda. After the State Duma, however, Parvus, Cherevanin, and Martov not only raised this question—but did so not merely in theory, but in a directly practical form. Before the State Duma, they had set quite stringent conditions for the democrats (even going so far as to demand that they assist in arming the people, and so forth). After the State Duma, they immediately softened their demands, contenting themselves with the promise to transform a Black-Hundred or liberal Duma into a revolutionary assembly. Before the State Duma, in their official resolution on the question of who should convene a nationwide constituent assembly, they had declared: either a provisional revolutionary government, or one of the representative bodies. After the State Duma, they struck out the provisional revolutionary government and now state: either “democratic organizations of the people—such as the constitutional-democrats?” (!), or… or the State Duma itself. Thus, in practice, we see how the Iskra group is guided by its own lofty principle: “The revolution is bourgeois—so take care, comrades, lest the bourgeoisie suddenly recoil!”

The events in Moscow, which for the first time since the enactment of the State Duma Law revealed the true nature of the constitutional-democrats’ tactics in critical political moments, also demonstrated that the opportunistic tail of social democracy we have described inevitably devolves into little more than a mere lackey of the bourgeoisie. We spoke just now of a Black-Hundred or liberal State Duma. To the Iskra group, such terms would seem utterly monstrous, for they place great importance on the distinction between a Black-Hundred Duma and a liberal Duma. But it was precisely the Moscow events that exposed the falsity of this “parliamentary” idea—a notion that had been ill‑timed and inappropriate in the pre‑parliamentary era. It was the Moscow events that showed us that the liberal defector had, in fact, played the role of Trepov himself. The closure of the university that Trepov would have decreed yesterday was carried out today by Messrs. Manuilov and Trubetskoy. Is it not clear that even the “Duma” liberals will likewise oscillate between Trepov and Romanov on one side, and the revolutionary people on the other? Is it not equally clear that even the slightest support for these liberal defectors is nothing short of a betrayal worthy of the most callous political opportunist?

In a parliamentary system, it is often necessary to support the more liberal party against the less liberal one. But to support liberal defectors—those who “reconcile” Trepov with the revolution—in the revolutionary struggle for a parliamentary order is tantamount to treason.

The events in Moscow, in fact, brought into sharp relief the very grouping of social forces that “Proletariy” had spoken of so often: the socialist proletariat and the vanguard of revolutionary bourgeois democracy were locked in combat. The liberal–monarchist bourgeoisie engaged in negotiations. So learn, working comrades—learn more attentively from the lessons of the Moscow events. For it is precisely in this way, and in no other, that matters will unfold throughout the Russian Revolution. We must forge ourselves ever more closely into a truly socialist party—one that consciously represents the interests of the working class, rather than blindly trailing behind the masses. In our struggle, we must rely solely on revolutionary democracy; we must enter into agreements only with it—and only on the battlefield, against Trepov and Romanov, should we seek to implement those agreements. We must strive with all our might to raise up, alongside the vanguard of revolutionary democracy—the student body—a broad popular mass whose movement is not merely democratic in general (for nowadays every defector calls himself a democrat)—but is, in truth, a genuinely revolutionary movement: the peasant masses. We must remember that the liberals and constitutional-democrats, while sowing discord among the ranks of the autocrats, will inevitably seek, with every step they take, to sow discord within our own ranks as well. Only open, revolutionary struggle—casting aside all liberal henhouses and all liberal Dumas as so much worthless junk—will assume serious, decisive significance. So prepare yourselves, without losing a single minute, for new battles, and new battles again! Arm yourselves with whatever means you can muster; immediately form fighting units ready to engage with boundless energy in battle against the accursed autocracy. Remember: tomorrow—or the day after—events will, in any case, inevitably call you to revolt; the only question is whether you will rise prepared and united, or scattered and disoriented!

The Moscow events once again, for the hundredth time, refuted the doubters. They showed that we are still prone to underestimate the revolutionary activity of the masses. They will convince many of those who had begun to waver—those who had lost faith in revolt after the conclusion of peace and the granting of the Duma. No, the uprising is growing and strengthening with unprecedented speed, precisely now. Let the coming explosion find us all at our posts—compared to which January 9th and those memorable days in Odessa will seem like mere child’s play!

“Proletariy,” No. 22, October 24 (11), 1905

Printed according to the text of the newspaper “Proletariy,” verified against the manuscript.