V. I.

Lenin

To identify the great artist with the revolution which he has obviously failed
to understand, and from which he obviously stands aloof, may at first sight seem
strange and artificial. A mirror which does not reflect things correctly could
hardly be called a mirror. Our revolution, however, is an extremely complicated
thing. Among the mass of those who are directly making and participating in it
there are many social elements which have also obviously not understood what
is taking place and which also stand aloof from the real historical tasks with
which the course of events has confronted them. And if we have before us a
really great artist, he must have reflected in his work at least some of the
essential aspects of the revolution.

The legal Russian press, though its pages teem with articles, letters and
comments on Tolstoy’s eightieth birthday, is least of all interested in
analysing his works from t.he standpoint of the character of the Russian
revolution and its motive forces. The whole of this press is steeped to nausea
in hypocrisy, hypocrisy of a double kind: official and liberal. The former is
the crude hypocrisy of the venal hack who was ordered yesterday to hound Leo
Tolstoy, and today to show that Tolstoy is a patriot, and to try to observe the
decencies before the eyes of Europe. That the hacks of this kind have been paid
for their screeds is common knowledge and they cannot deceive anybody. Much more
refined and, therefore, much more pernicious and dangerous is liberal
hypocrisy. To listen to the Cadet

Balalaikins [1] of Rech , one would think that their sympathy for Tolstoy is of the most complete and ardent kind. Actually, their calculated declamations and
pompous phrases about the “great seeker after God” are false from
beginning to end, for no Russian liberal believes in Tolstoy’s God, or
sympathises with Tolstoy’s criticism of the existing social order. lie
associates himself with a popular name in order to increase his political
capital, in order to pose as a leader of the nation-wide opposition; he seeks,
with the din and thunder of claptrap, to drown the demand for a
straight and clear answer to the question: what are the glaring contradictions
of “Tolstoyism” due to, and what shortcomings and weaknesses of our
revolution do they express?

The contradictions in Tolstoy’s works, views, doctrines, in his school,
are indeed glaring. On the one hand, we have the great artist, the genius who
has not only drawn incomparable pictures of Russian life but has made
first-class contributions to world literature. On the other hand we have the
landlord obsessed with Christ. On the one hand, the remark ably powerful,
forthright and sincere protest against social falsehood and hypocrisy; and on
the other, the “Tolstoyan”, i.e., the jaded, hysterical sniveller
called the Russian intellectual, who publicly beats his breast and wails:
“I am a bad wicked man, but I am practising moral self-perfection; I
don’t eat meat any more, I now eat rice cutlets.” On the one hand,
merciless criticism of capitalist exploitation, exposure of government
outrages, the farcical courts and the state administration, and unmasking of the
profound contradictions between the growth of wealth and achievements of
civilisation and the growth of poverty, degradation and misery among the working
masses. On the other, the crackpot preaching of submission, “resist not
evil” with violence. On the one hand, the most sober realism, the tearing
away of all and sundry masks; on the other, the preaching of one of the most
odious things on earth, namely, religion, the striving to replace officially
appointed priests by priests who will serve from moral conviction, i. e., to
cultivate the most refined and, therefore, particularly disgusting
clericalism. Verily:

Thou art a pauper, yet thou art abundant, Thou art mighty, yet thou art impotent— —Mother Russia! [2]

That Tolstoy, owing to these contradictions, could not possibly understand
either the working-class movement and its role in the struggle for socialism, or
the Russian revolution, goes without saying. But the contradictions in Tolstoy’s views and doctrines are not accidental; they express the
contradictory conditions of Russian life in the last third of the nineteenth
century. The patriarchal countryside, only recently emancipated from serfdom,
was literally given over to the capitalist and the tax-collector to be fleeced
and plundered. The ancient foundations of peasant economy and peasant life,
foundations that had really held for centuries, were broken up for scrap with
extraordinary rapidity. And the contradictions in Tolstoy’s views must be
appraised not from the standpoint of the present-day working-class movement and
present-day socialism (such an appraisal is, of course, needed, but it is not
enough), but from the standpoint of protest against advancing capitalism,
against the ruining of the masses, who are being dispossessed of their
land— a protest which had to arise from the patriarchal Russian
countryside. Tolstoy is absurd as a prophet who has discovered new nostrums for
the salvation of mankind—and therefore the foreign and Russian
“Tolstoyans” who have sought to convert the weakest side of his
doctrine into a dogma, are not worth speaking of. Tolstoy is great as the
spokesman of the ideas and sentiments that emerged among the millions of Russian
peasants at the time the bourgeois revolution was approaching in Russia. Tolstoy
is original, because the sum total of his views, taken as a whole, happens to
express the specific features of our revolution as a peasant bourgeois
revolution. From this point of view, the contradictions in Tolstoy’s
views are indeed a mirror of those contradictory conditions in which the
peasantry had to play their historical part in our revolution. Ott the one hand,
centuries of feudal oppression and decades of accelerated post-Reform
pauperisation piled up mountains of hate, resentment, and desperate
determination. The striving to sweep away completely the official church, the
landlords and the landlord government, to destroy all the old forms and ways of
landownership, to clear the land, to replace the police-class state by a
community of free and equal small peasants—this striving is the keynote of
every historical step the peasantry has taken in our revolution; and, undoubtedly, the message of Tolstoy’s
writings conforms to this peasant striving far more than it does to abstract
“Christian Anarchism”, as his “system” of views is sometimes appraised.

On the other hand the peasantry, striving towards new ways of life, had a very
crude, patriarchal, semi-religious idea of what kind of life this should be, by
what struggle could liberty be won, what leaders it could have in this struggle,
what was the attitude of the bourgeoisie and the bourgeois intelligentsia
towards the interests of peasant revolution, why the forcible overthrow of
tsarist rule was needed in order to abolish landlordism. The whole past life of
the peasantry had taught it to hate the landowner and the official, but it did
not, and could not, teach it where to seek an answer to all these questions. In
our revolution a minor part of the peasantry really did fight, did organise to
some extent for this purpose; and a very small part indeed rose up in arms to
exterminate its enemies, to destroy the tsar’s servants and protectors of
the landlords. Most of the peasantry wept and prayed, moralised and dreamed,
wrote petitions and sent “pleaders”—quite in the vein of Leo Tolstoy
I And, as always happens in such cases, the effect of this Tolstoyan abstention
from politics, this Tolstoyan renunciation of politics, this lack of interest in
and under standing of politics, was that only a minority followed the lead of
the class-conscious revolutionary proletariat, while the majority became the
prey of those unprincipled, servile, bourgeois intellectuals who under the name
of Cadets hastened from a meeting of Trudoviks to Stolypin’s ante room,
and begged, haggled, reconciled and promised to reconcile—until they were
kicked out with a military jack- boot. Tolstoy’s ideas are a mirror of the
weakness, the short comings of our peasant revolt, a reflection of the
flabbiness of the patriarchal countryside and of the hidebound cowardice of the
“enterprising muzhik”.

Take the soldiers’ insurrections in 1905-06. In social composition these men
who fought in our revolution were partly peasants and partly proletarians. The
proletarians were in the minority; therefore the movement in the armed forces
does not even approximately show the same nation-wide solidarity, the same party
consciousness, as were displayed by the proletariat, which became Social-Democratic as if by the wave of a
hand. Yet there is nothing more mistaken than the view that the insurrections in
the armed forces failed because no officers had led them. On the contrary, the
enormous progress the revolution had made since the time of the Narodnaya

Volya [3] was shown precisely by the fact that the “grey
herd” rose in arms against their superiors, and it was this
self-dependency of theirs that so frightened the liberal landlords and the
liberal officers. The common soldier fully sympathised with the peasants’ cause;
his eyes lit up at the very mention of land. There was more than one case when
authority in the armed forces passed to the mass of the rank and file, but
determined use of this authority was hardly made at all; the soldiers wavered;
after a couple of days, in some cases a few hours, after killing some hated
officer, they released the others who had been arrested, parleyed with the
authorities and then faced the firing squad, or bared their backs for the birch,
or put on the yoke again— quite in the vein of Leo Tolstoy!

Tolstoy reflected the pent-up hatred, the ripened striving for a better lot, the
desire to get rid of the past—and also the immature dreaming, the
political inexperience, the revolutionary flabbiness. Historical and economic
conditions explain both the inevitable beginning of the revolutionary struggle
of the masses and their unpreparedness for the struggle, their Tolstoyan
non-resistance to evil, which was a most serious cause of the defeat of the
first revolutionary campaign.

It is said that beaten armies learn well. Of course, revolutionary classes can
be compared with armies only in a very limited sense. The development of
capitalism is hourly changing and intensifying the conditions which roused the
millions of peasants—united by their hatred for the feudalist landlords
and their government—for the revolutionary- democratic struggle. Among the
peasantry themselves the growth of exchange, of the rule of the market and the
power of money is steadily ousting old-fashioned patriarchalism and the
patriarchal Tolstoyan ideology. But there is one gain from the first years of
the revolution and the first reverses in mass revolutionary struggle about which
there can be no doubt. It is the mortal blow struck at the former softness and flabbiness of the masses. The lines of demarcation have become more
distinct. The cleavage of classes and parties has taken place. Under the hammer
blows of the lessons taught by Stolypin, and with undeviating and consistent
agitation by the revolutionary Social-Democrats not only the socialist
proletariat but also the democratic masses of the peasantry will inevitably
advance from their midst more and more steeled. fighters who will be less
capable of falling into our historical sin of Tolstoyism!

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Notes:
[1]
Balalaikin —a character in Saltykov-Shchedrin’s A Modern Idyll ; a liberal windbag, adventurer and liar.

[2]
From the poem by N. A. Nekrasov “Who Can Be Happy and Free in
Russia”.

[3]
Narodnaya Volya ( The People’s Will) —an illegal organisation of the revolutionary-minded Narodnik intellectuals
founded in 1879 with the object of fighting the autocracy. It existed up to
the second half of the eighties.