Each distinctive turning point in history gives rise to certain shifts in the forms of petty-bourgeois vacillation—vacillations that are ever present alongside the proletariat, always infiltrating, to varying degrees, the very ranks of the proletariat.
Petty-bourgeois reformism—that is, the servile capitulation before the bourgeoisie, cloaked in well-meaning democratic and “social-democratic” phrases and feeble wishful thinking—and petty-bourgeois revolutionary radicalism—blustering, inflated, all talk and no action, a mere shell of fragmentation, dispersion, and headlessness in practice—such are the two “streams” of these vacillations. They are inevitable so long as the deepest roots of capitalism remain unuprooted. Their forms are now undergoing transformation in light of the Soviet power’s marked shift in economic policy.
The central refrain among the Mensheviks: “The Bolsheviks have turned back toward capitalism—this is their undoing. The revolution, after all, turns out to be bourgeois—even October included! Long live democracy! Long live reformism!” Whether this sentiment is expressed in a purely Menshevik tone or in an Esers’ style, in the spirit of the Second or the Second and a Half Internationals, the underlying logic remains the same.
The central motif among semi-anarchists—such as the German “Communist Workers’ Party,” or that segment of our former workers’ opposition which either left the party or was drifting away from it—is this: “The Bolsheviks no longer believe in the working class!” From this premise emerge slogans more or less akin to those of the Kronstadt spring of 1921.
How, then, can Marxists most soberly and precisely counter the whining and panic of philistines—whether they be reformist philistines or revolutionary philistines—with a clear-eyed assessment of actual class forces and incontrovertible facts?
Recall the major stages of our revolution. Stage One—purely political, so to speak—from October 25 to January 5, up to the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly. In just ten short weeks, we accomplished a hundredfold more toward the real and complete eradication of feudal remnants in Russia than the Mensheviks and Socialist Revolutionaries had achieved in the eight months (February–October 1917) of their rule. At that time, the Mensheviks and Socialist Revolutionaries—and abroad, all the heroes of the Second and a Half International—were but pitiful accomplices of reaction. The anarchists either stood aside in utter confusion or lent us their support. Was the revolution then bourgeois? Of course it was—insofar as our completed task was the completion of the bourgeois-democratic revolution, since class struggle within the peasantry had not yet fully erupted. Yet at the same time, we accomplished far more than merely a bourgeois revolution; we laid the groundwork for a socialist, proletarian revolution: (1) We unleashed the working class to an unprecedented degree, empowering it to wield state power. (2) We dealt a blow of worldwide significance to the fetishes of petty-bourgeois democracy—the Constituent Assembly and bourgeois “liberties,” such as the freedom of the press for the wealthy. (3) We created the Soviet form of state—a giant leap forward since 1793 and 1871.
Stage Two: The Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. The rampant rhetoric of revolutionary anti‑war sentiment—half‑patriotic posturing among the Socialist Revolutionaries and Mensheviks, “leftist” demagogy among a section of the Bolsheviks. “If you make peace with imperialism, you’re doomed,” cried the philistine, either in panic or with malicious glee. But the Socialist Revolutionaries and Mensheviks made peace with imperialism as partners in the bourgeois plunder of the working class. We, on the other hand, “made peace” by surrendering a portion of our property to the plunderer—doing so in order to save the power of the workers, in order to deliver even more powerful

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blows against the plunderer. We heard plenty of talk back then about how “we do not believe in the strength of the working class,” but we refused to let ourselves be deceived by such empty rhetoric.
Stage Three: The Civil War—from the Czechoslovaks and “Constituent Assembly men” to Wrangel, spanning the years 1918–1920. At the outset of the war, our Red Army did not yet exist. Even today, when compared with the material forces of any army of the Entente powers, our army remains insignificant. And yet we emerged victorious in our struggle against the world‑powerful Entente. The alliance between peasants and workers, under the leadership of proletarian state power, was raised—to the heights of a world‑historical achievement—beyond anything previously seen. The Mensheviks and Socialist Revolutionaries played the role of collaborators with the monarchy, both directly—as ministers, organizers, preachers—and covertly—as in the case of Chernov and Martov, whose positions were ostensibly “refined” and “subtle,” yet in reality they worked behind the scenes with pen and ink against us. The anarchists, too, flailed helplessly: some aided us, while others sabotaged our efforts with cries against military discipline or with skeptical cynicism.
Stage Four: The Entente was forced to end its intervention and blockade—though for how long remains to be seen. The country, utterly devastated, was only just beginning to recover, only now truly grasping the full depth of its ruin, enduring the most agonizing hardships: industrial shutdowns, crop failures, famine, epidemics.
We had risen to the highest—and at the same time the most arduous—step in our world‑historical struggle. The enemy at this moment, in this particular period, is not the same as yesterday’s enemy. The enemy is no longer the hordes of White Guards commanded by landed gentry, backed by every Menshevik and Socialist Revolutionary, by the entire international bourgeoisie. The enemy is the everyday realities of the economy in a small-peasant country with a ruined large-scale industry. The enemy is the petty-bourgeois element that surrounds us like air—and penetrates deeply into the ranks of the proletariat. For the proletariat has been declassed; it has been thrust out of its own class trajectory. Factories and plants stand idle—while the proletariat is weakened, dispersed, and exhausted. And within the state itself, the petty-bourgeois element…

The entire international bourgeoisie—still globally powerful—stands in support.
Well, how could one not be afraid? Especially when faced with such figures as the Mensheviks and Socialist Revolutionaries, the knights of the Second and a Half International, the helpless anarchists, the lovers of “leftist” rhetoric. “The Bolsheviks are turning toward capitalism—down with the Bolsheviks! Even their revolution never broke free from the confines of the bourgeois revolution.” We hear these cries quite often.
But we’ve grown accustomed to them.
We do not downplay the dangers. We face them squarely. We tell workers and peasants: the danger is great—more than ever before, we need unity, steadfastness, composure; cast aside with contempt those who espouse Menshevism, Socialist Revolutionary tendencies, panic-mongers, and loudmouths.
The danger is great. Our enemy is far stronger than we are economically—as he was far stronger than we were militarily yesterday. We know this, and in knowing lies our strength. We have already accomplished so much, both in purging Russia of feudal remnants, in developing the full potential of workers and peasants, in waging the global struggle against imperialism, and in advancing the international proletarian movement—freed from the banalities and baseness of the Second and Second and a Half Internationals—that panicked cries directed at us no longer have any effect. We have more than fully justified our revolutionary activities, proving through concrete deeds to the entire world what proletarian revolution can achieve—unlike the Menshevik–Socialist Revolutionary “democracy” and the cowardly reformism cloaked in grandiloquent phrases.
Anyone who fears defeat before the great struggle has begun can only call himself a socialist out of mockery toward the workers.
Precisely because we are unafraid to face danger head-on, we harness our strengths for the fight more effectively—we remain sober, cautious, and calculating in weighing our chances—we make every concession that strengthens us while fragmenting the enemy’s forces (as even the most obtuse among us have now come to see: the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk was

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a concession that strengthened us while shattering the power of international imperialism).
The Mensheviks cry out that the tax in kind, freedom of trade, the granting of concessions, and the embrace of state capitalism spell the downfall of communism. To these Mensheviks has joined, abroad, the former communist Levii—a man whom we once sought to defend, while his errors could still be explained as reactions to a series of missteps committed by “left-wing” communists, especially in March 1921 in Germany; but this Levii cannot be defended when, instead of acknowledging his own mistakes, he slides all the way into Menshevism across the board.
To the shouting Mensheviks, we need only point out that as early as spring 1918, the communists had proclaimed and championed the idea of forming a bloc, a union with state capitalism, in order to counter the petty-bourgeois forces. Three years ago! In the very first months after the Bolshevik victory! The Bolsheviks were already sober in their judgment then. And since that time, no one has been able to refute the soundness of our sober assessment of the forces actually at our disposal.
Levii, having slid into Menshevism, advises the Bolsheviks—whom he “predicts” will see capitalism triumph, just as all the petty-bourgeois, the democrats, the social democrats, and others predicted our demise should we dissolve the Constituent Assembly—to turn for help to the entire working class! For, you see, until now, only a portion of that class had truly aided them!
Here, Levii remarkably aligns himself with those semi-anarchists and loudmouths—some of whom once belonged to the “Workers’ Opposition”—who love to spout grandiose pronouncements about how the Bolsheviks no longer “believe in the strength of the working class.” Both the Mensheviks and the anarchoid elements turn this notion of “the strength of the working class” into a fetish, unable to grasp its actual, concrete content. Instead of studying and analyzing that content, they substitute it with mere declamation.
Gentlemen of the Second and a Half International, though eager to call themselves revolutionaries, in fact prove themselves counterrevolutionary whenever serious challenges arise—because they fear the violent dismantling of the old state apparatus, because they do not believe in the strength of the working class. When we spoke of the Socialist Revolutionaries and Co., we did not merely utter empty phrases. Everyone knows that the October Revolution, in practice, brought forth new forces, a new class—the finest representatives of the proletariat now govern Russia, have built an army, led it into battle, established local self-government, and so on, directing industry and beyond. If there are bureaucratic distortions within this governance, we do not hide that evil; rather, we expose it and wage relentless struggle against it. Whoever, in the midst of fighting against the distortions of the new order, forgets the order’s true substance—forgetting that the working class has created and is leading a Soviet-type state—is simply incapable of thinking clearly and merely throws words to the wind.
But the “strength of the working class” is not limitless. If the influx of fresh forces from the working class is now weak—sometimes exceedingly weak—if, despite all decrees, appeals, and campaigns, despite every order calling for the “promotion of non‑party members,” the flow of new recruits remains meager, then to dismiss this reality with mere declamations about “a lack of faith in the strength of the working class” is nothing more than descending into empty rhetoric.
Without a certain “breathing space,” these new forces cannot emerge; otherwise, they will grow only slowly—and without the foundation of a restored large-scale industry (to put it more precisely and concretely, based on electrification), there is simply no place from which they can draw sustenance.
After the greatest, unprecedented strains endured by the working class in a small-peasant, devastated country—after the working class suffered massive declassing—time is needed for new forces to grow and strengthen, for the old and worn-out to “repair themselves.” The creation of a military and state apparatus capable of victoriously weathering the trials of 1917–1921 was a monumental undertaking, one that consumed, exhausted, and drew upon the real (not the rhetorical, loudmouth-driven) “strength of the working class.” We must understand this and reckon with the necessity—indeed, with the inevitability—of a slower rate of growth for the working class’s new forces.

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When the Mensheviks cry out about the Bolsheviks’ “Bonapartism” (claiming that the Party—and, by extension, its apparatus—rely on force rather than the will of “democracy”), they are in fact perfectly articulating the tactics of the bourgeoisie; and Milukov rightly supports this line, endorsing the “Kronstadt” slogans of spring 1921. The bourgeoisie correctly recognizes that the true “forces of the working class” today consist of the mighty vanguard of that class—the Russian Communist Party, which did not win its role, its title, its power as the sole revolutionary class’s vanguard overnight, but over the course of twenty-five years through concrete deeds—and of those elements most weakened by declassing, most susceptible to the vacillations of Menshevism and anarchism.
Under the banner of “greater trust in the strength of the working class,” what is actually being pursued is a strengthening of Menshevik and anarchist influences: Kronstadt in the spring of 1921 demonstrated this with stark clarity. Every conscious worker must expose and drive away those who clamor about our “lack of faith in the forces of the working class,” for these loudmouths are, in reality, accomplices of the bourgeoisie and the landed gentry, seeking to further weaken the proletariat by expanding the influence of Mensheviks and anarchists—advancing interests that are not proletarian, but petty-bourgeois, serving the agenda of a foreign class.
This is where the real problem lies—if we look soberly at the actual content of the concept of “the strength of the working class”!
Where, dear comrades, are your efforts? Where are your concrete initiatives to genuinely bring non‑party members into the foremost contemporary “front”—the economic front, the task of building up the national economy? This is the question that conscious workers must pose to the loudmouths. This is how, time and again, we can—and must—expose the loudmouths, proving that in practice they do not help, but hinder the construction of the economy; that they do not aid, but obstruct the proletarian revolution; that they pursue petty-bourgeois aspirations rather than proletarian ones, serving the interests of a class alien to our own.
Our slogan: Down with the loudmouths! Down with the unconscious collaborators of the White Guard, repeating the mistakes of the unfortunate Kronstadt rebels of spring 1921! Let us turn to practical, businesslike work—work capable of grasping the unique character of the present moment and its tasks! We need deeds, not empty phrases.
A sober assessment of this uniqueness, of the real, unimagined class forces at play, tells us:
— After a period of unprecedented achievements in the realm of proletarian creativity—military, administrative, and general political—there has come, not by chance but inevitably, not due to the failings of individuals or parties, but because of objective conditions, a period of far more gradual accumulation of new forces. In economic work, construction is inevitably more arduous, slower, and more incremental; this stems from the very nature of economic activity as compared with military, administrative, or general political work. It arises from the special difficulty of this kind of labor—and, if one may put it so, from its deeper, more profound rootedness in the soil.
Therefore, with the utmost, triple caution, let us seek to define our tasks at this new, higher stage of struggle. Let us set these tasks modestly; let us make more concessions—of course, within the limits that the proletariat can afford while remaining the ruling class—seeking to collect the moderate tax in kind as quickly as possible, and granting greater freedom for the development, consolidation, and restoration of the peasant economy. Let us entrust to tenants—not only private capitalists but also foreign concessionaires—those enterprises that are not absolutely essential to us. What we need is a bloc, or an alliance, between the proletarian state and state capitalism, in order to counter the petty-bourgeois forces of spontaneity. We must carry out this alliance with skillful precision, following the rule: “Measure seven times, cut once.” Let us retain for ourselves only the narrowest sphere of activity—only what is absolutely indispensable. Let us concentrate the weakened forces of the working class on fewer tasks, but in doing so, let us strengthen them all the more firmly, testing ourselves not once or twice, but many times through practical experience. Step by step, inch by inch—otherwise, in such a difficult road, in such a heavy environment, under such dangers, a “force” like ours simply cannot advance. Anyone who finds this work “boring,” “uninteresting,” “hard to understand,” anyone who wrinkles their nose or

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falls into panic, or intoxicates themselves with declamations about the absence of “the former upsurge,” “the former enthusiasm,” and the like—such people had best be “freed from work” and consigned to the archives, lest they cause harm; for they neither wish nor know how to reflect upon the distinctive character of this particular stage, of this particular phase of the struggle.
In the face of the country’s immense devastation and the exhaustion of the proletariat’s strength after nearly superhuman efforts, we take on the most difficult task of all: laying the foundations of a truly socialist economy, establishing a proper exchange of goods—more precisely, a proper exchange of products—between industry and agriculture. Our enemy is still far stronger than we are; anarchic, petty, individualistic forms of commodity exchange undermine our work at every turn. We see these difficulties clearly and will systematically, tenaciously, overcome them. Let us grant more initiative and autonomy to localities, channel more resources there, and pay closer attention to their practical experience. The working class can heal its wounds and restore its proletarian “class strength”; the peasantry can strengthen its confidence in proletarian leadership only to the extent that industrial recovery proceeds successfully and a proper state-led product exchange is established—one that benefits both the peasant and the worker. As these successes accumulate, we will attract new forces—perhaps not as quickly as each of us would like, but we will attract them nonetheless.
Let us devote ourselves to work that is slower and more cautious, more patient and more persistent!
August 20, 1921 “Pravda,” No. 190, August 28, 1921

Signed: N. Lenin

Printed according to the text of the newspaper “Pravda,” verified against the galley proofs corrected by V. I. Lenin