A People’s History Without Revolutionary Leadership?

Raquel Varela, the Zinn Tradition, Hobsbawm’s Marxism, and the Trotskyist Conception of History

Part I

Raquel Varela’s A People’s History of Europe is a major contribution to modern left-wing historiography. It aims to blend the “history from below” perspective with a broad overview of Europe’s development from the Middle Ages to the present day. Varela’s writing is driven by a genuine commitment to workers, peasants, and oppressed groups, and it carries a moral urgency that sharply contrasts with the complacency and cynicism common in mainstream academic history. However, the strengths of her approach—such as its empathy for the exploited, focus on mass movements, and rejection of elite-focused stories—are closely linked to its weaknesses. These issues are not personal flaws but stem from the political and theoretical limits of the environment in which she operates, shaped by left-reformist, post-Trotskyist, and post-Stalinist currents that have influenced the European radical left since the 1990s.

This essay aims to analyse Varela’s approach by comparing it with that of three key figures: Howard Zinn, Eric Hobsbawm, and Leon Trotsky. Zinn embodies the populist moral story of resistance; Hobsbawm’s Marxism is scholarly yet politically compromised by the Communist Party; Trotsky advocates a scientific, dialectical, revolutionary approach that provides a clear explanation of major modern upheavals. Varela’s work exists where these traditions meet, drawing from each but mainly echoing the limitations of Zinn and Hobsbawm, while remaining somewhat distant from Trotsky’s method.

This analysis is more than an academic exercise; it involves high-stakes political issues. Addressing the crisis of global capitalism, the rise of imperialist wars, the growth of fascist movements, and the escalating struggles of the working class requires a historical perspective rooted in scientific socialism. While the ‘people’s history’ genre has its strengths, it falls short of this scope. It chronicles struggles but doesn’t analyse their outcomes, celebrates resistance but overlooks defeats, and invokes “the people” while hiding the crucial role of class leadership. The outcome is a history that is morally inspiring but lacks the necessary theoretical foundations—one that motivates but doesn’t equip.

Varela’s work aligns with the tradition set by Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States—a tradition with notable strengths and notable limitations. The book is praised for emphasising class struggle, general strikes, and revolutionary upheavals. Still, it is also criticised for theoretical ambiguity and political vagueness, especially around the concept of “the people.” The main flaw identified is that “the concept of ‘the people’ is politically vague… [it] conflates the working class, the peasantry, the urban petty bourgeoisie, and sections of the bourgeoisie itself.” This issue is fundamental, as it underpins the book’s entire methodological approach. People’s History

The term “the people” is not rooted in Marxist theory but is instead a populist idea. It conceals the class conflict that shapes capitalist societies. This concept enables historians to praise acts of resistance without examining the underlying political goals, class makeup, or leadership of the movements. It replaces detailed, scientific analysis with moral outrage. Furthermore, it serves as a tool for the reformist left to avoid facing the key lesson of the 20th century: that the outcome of revolutions depends not on the vague notion of “the people,” but on the political leadership within the working class.

This is where a comparison with Zinn becomes necessary. Zinn’s “People’s History” is a passionate and compelling narrative that highlights the brutality of American capitalism and amplifies the voices of the oppressed. However, it does not offer a Marxist analysis. It fails to differentiate between proletarian, populist, petty-bourgeois radical, and bourgeois liberal movements, viewing all resistance as driven by a single moral impulse. Instead, it presents a history that focuses on victims and heroes rather than on class struggles or political parties. It chronicles injustice without analysing the inherent contradictions of capitalism.

Varela adopts this framework, viewing her “people” as united by oppressions rather than their roles in production relations. Her narrative emphasises sympathy over theoretical analysis, highlighting the struggles of workers, peasants, women, colonised peoples, and soldiers without exploring the class dynamics behind these conflicts. She lauds the mass movements of 1848, the Paris Commune, the Russian Revolution, the German Revolution, the Spanish Civil War, and the Portuguese Revolution, but does not analyse the political leaderships that shaped their outcomes. Consequently, her history is detailed but lacks explanatory depth.

The difference with Hobsbawm is revealing. Eric Hobsbawm, a highly knowledgeable Marxist historian, authored the significant “Age of” trilogy, which is a major achievement. He comprehended capitalism’s structural dynamics, the long-term shifts in class relations, and the broader European development context. However, his work was influenced by his lifelong allegiance to the Communist Party, preventing him from addressing Stalinism’s crimes or the betrayals within the Communist International. Consequently, he couldn’t analyse the critical role of Stalinist leadership in the failures of the German and Spanish Revolutions and the post-war revolutionary surge. While his Marxist theory was profound, his political stance remained compromised.

Varela resembles Hobsbawm in her focus on long-term processes and her sympathy for labour movements. However, she lacks his depth in theory. She does not provide a systematic analysis of capitalist development, class formation, or revolutionary dynamics. Simultaneously, she echoes his political evasions by avoiding the role of Stalinism in 20th-century defeats, the betrayals within social democracy, the political limits of anarchism, and the essential issue of revolutionary leadership.

This is where Trotsky’s approach proves essential. His works—such as The History of the Russian Revolution (1905), The Revolution Betrayed, and his analyses of the German catastrophe and the Spanish Revolution—are the pinnacle of Marxist historiography. They go beyond simple event recounting, offering scientific analyses of society’s laws of development. These works are rooted in dialectical materialism, focusing on the contradictions between productive forces and relations of production, the global nature of class struggle, and the critical influence of political leadership.

Four principles define Trotsky’s method.

First, Trotsky’s class analysis does not categorise “the people” as a single analytical unit. Instead, he clearly distinguishes among classes and their political tendencies, analysing the proletariat, peasantry, petty bourgeoisie, bourgeoisie, and state apparatus as separate social forces with distinct interests. Second, Trotsky emphasises the importance of leadership. He believes that the success of revolutions depends on the revolutionary party’s program, strategy, and organisation. While the working class may possess great energy and creativity, without revolutionary leadership, they cannot seize power.

Third, Trotsky advocates dialectical materialism, viewing revolutions as outcomes of capitalism’s contradictions. He explores the relationship between objective conditions and subjective factors, spontaneous struggle versus conscious leadership, and national developments in relation to the international context—fourth, internationalism. Trotsky rejects the national framework of bourgeois historiography. He analyses revolutions as part of a global process. He understands that the fate of the Russian Revolution depended on the German Revolution, that the international crisis of capitalism shaped the Spanish Revolution, and that the defeats of the 20th century were the result of the betrayals of the Stalinist bureaucracy on a world scale.

This approach highlights the weaknesses in Varela’s method, especially evident in her analysis of the Portuguese Revolution of 1974–75. The document emphasises this event as the critical test of her historiography. It states that the revolution “was ultimately contained and betrayed through the intervention of the Portuguese Communist Party… and the Socialist Party, with the complicity of the trade union bureaucracy.” This analysis aligns with Trotskyist perspectives by recognising the revolutionary potential of the working class, the counter-revolutionary roles played by Stalinism and social democracy, and the absence of a revolutionary party capable of leading the power struggle.

Varela’s interpretation of the Carnation Revolution, however, highlights the spontaneity and creativity of the masses, while downplaying the roles of the PCP and SP in maintaining capitalism. She praises the radicalisation of workers and soldiers but refrains from discussing revolutionary leadership. She outlines the process without addressing its ultimate result. Her account depicts a struggle but lacks a comprehensive theory of revolution.

This is the main flaw of the “people’s history” genre. It collects evidence of exploitation and resistance but fails to analyse the dialectical laws governing historical progress. It notes the symptoms of capitalist crises without exploring their root causes. While it praises the courage of the oppressed, it does not account for their defeats. It refers to “the people” but does not analyse the class forces that influence history. Consequently, it presents a history of victims and heroes rather than of classes and political parties.

The outcome is a history that appeals morally but fails to offer political solutions. It evokes sympathy without guiding strategy. It stirs feelings of injustice without proposing specific plans for revolutionary change. This is a significant flaw— the core limitation of the reformist left. It explains why the left struggles to give a clear response to the crisis of global capitalism, why mass movements often lead nowhere, and why betrayals by social democracy and Stalinism have not been remembered as lessons. It also clarifies why the working class lacks a revolutionary leadership.

The purpose of Marxist historiography is to analyse the class struggle, not to celebrate “the people.” Its role is to explain resistance outcomes, not just record them. It aims to understand rather than moralise, and to empower rather than inspire. Varela’s book, despite its virtues, falls short of this standard. While it corrects bourgeois historiography by highlighting the working class, it does not fully explain the class’s historical role. It recounts revolutions but lacks analysis of the conditions needed for their success. Although it celebrates struggle, it does not investigate leadership. It documents the oppressed’s history but does not depict the class struggle in the Marxist sense.

Part II

Varela’s A People’s History of Europe reveals its methodological weaknesses mostly through its narrative structure. The book focuses on episodes of mass resistance—such as peasant uprisings, strikes, revolutions, and anti-colonial struggles—and shows genuine sympathy for the oppressed. However, its narrative is episodic rather than dialectical, jumping from one act of resistance to another without examining the underlying contradictions or the political forces influencing these movements. Consequently, it offers a detailed account but falls short in providing comprehensive explanations.

This episodic format mirrors the influence of the Zinn tradition. Zinn’s People’s History presents a series of moral tableaux: the dispossession of Native Americans, the exploitation of workers, women’s struggles, and African American resistance. Each chapter functions as an independent critique of injustice. However, the book lacks a systematic theory of American capitalism or a dialectical analysis of its evolution. It doesn’t explore the links between economic change and political institutions, class struggle and state power, or national and international development. Overall, it is a moral narrative rather than a scientific examination.

Varela’s approach follows this pattern by depicting the struggles of “the people” as heroic episodes. However, she does not explore the underlying structural dynamics of European capitalism, such as the transition from feudalism to capitalism, the rise of the bourgeois state, the development of the modern working class, or the emergence of imperialism as a global system. She also overlooks the contradictions within the capitalist mode of production and the connection between economic crises and political upheavals. While she describes the symptoms of capitalist development, she does not analyze its fundamental laws.

This lack of theoretical analysis is intentional, mirroring the current European left’s shift away from Marxist economic critique. The fall of the Soviet Union, the decline of social-democratic parties, and the emergence of post-Marxist ideas have led to a left that dismisses overarching narratives, questions class-based analysis, and resists the idea of revolutionary leadership. Consequently, the historiography focuses on resistance stories while sidestepping issues of power.

This avoidance is especially clear in Varela’s discussion of major 20th-century revolutions. The Russian Revolution of 1917, the German Revolution of 1918–23, the Spanish Revolution of 1936–39, and the Portuguese Revolution of 1974–75 are depicted as moments of popular mobilization, yet their underlying political dynamics are not analyzed. The contribution of the Bolshevik Party in guiding the Russian working class to power is recognized but not explored. The betrayals during the German Revolution by the Social Democratic Party are mentioned without analysis. The counter-revolutionary role of Stalinism in Spain is acknowledged but left unexamined. The suppression of the Portuguese Revolution by the PCP and SP is described but not sufficiently clarified.

This is not about historical facts but about the method of studying history. The outcome of revolutions depends not on the “people” in general, but on the political leadership of the working class. Trotsky’s key contribution to history shows that whether revolutions succeed or fail relies on the working class’s ability to build a revolutionary party. This party must offer strategic guidance, resist reformist and centrist influences, and lead in the fight for state power. Without such a party, the spontaneous enthusiasm of the masses cannot be turned into an aware effort to achieve socialism.

This is the lesson that Varela’s work does not fully incorporate. Her narrative is rooted in sympathy for the oppressed, yet it lacks a comprehensive theory of revolutionary leadership. She highlights the courage and creativity of the masses but does not analyze the political forces shaping their struggles. While she celebrates the Paris Commune, she overlooks the absence of a revolutionary party capable of coordinating the effort. She praises the militancy of German workers but fails to examine the SPD’s role in disarming the revolution. She venerates the heroism of Spanish workers and peasants but does not address the influence of the Stalinist bureaucracy in suppressing the revolution. Although she admires the radicalization of the Portuguese working class, she does not examine the political mechanisms through which the PCP and SP stabilised capitalist rule.

The outcome is a history that inspires morally but leaves politics confused. It elicits admiration for the oppressed’s struggles but fails to explain why those struggles were overcome. It creates a feeling of injustice without offering a clear strategy for change. While it presents a story of resistance, it does not provide a comprehensive theory of revolution.

The difference between Trotsky’s approach and others is clear. Trotsky’s “History of the Russian Revolution” is not just a timeline of events but a scientific analysis of revolutionary dynamics. It explores how objective conditions and subjective factors interact, the balance between spontaneous struggle and conscious leadership, and the relationship between the masses and the party. The book examines the contradictions within the Provisional Government, the role of the Soviets, the emergence of dual power, and the strategic choices that led to the October insurrection. It serves as a work of historical materialism, focusing on the laws governing societal change.

Trotsky’s analyses of the German and Spanish revolutions are equally meticulous. He argued that the German Revolution’s defeat was due to betrayals by the SPD and the Communist Party’s mistakes, not an inevitable outcome. Similarly, he pointed out that Spain’s revolution was defeated not because of Franco’s strength, but because of the Stalinist bureaucracy’s counter-revolutionary policies. He examined the political forces involved in these struggles and the strategic choices that led to their outcomes.

This level of analysis is missing from Varela’s work. Her narrative is detailed yet lacks explanation. She depicts the struggles of the oppressed but fails to analyze the political forces influencing their destiny. While she celebrates resistance, she does not explore leadership. She provides a history of the people but not of the class struggle.

The impact of this methodological weakness is clear in her analysis of the Portuguese Revolution. The Carnation Revolution, a key post-war movement, saw the working class radicalize, workers’ commissions form, factories occupied, and the colonial empire collapse, leading to dual power and directly challenging state authority. However, this upheaval was ultimately controlled and stabilized through an alliance between the PCP, SP, the military, and the trade union bureaucracy.

Varela discusses the mass radicalization but overlooks the political mechanisms that limited the revolution. She fails to investigate the PCP’s role in subordinating the working class to the MFA, nor does she analyze the SP’s defense of capitalist property relations. Additionally, she does not address the lack of a revolutionary party capable of leading the working class to power. While describing the symptoms of the revolution, she neglects its underlying dynamics.

This issue is not about historical facts but about the approach to history. To understand the fate of the Portuguese Revolution, it is essential to examine the roles played by PCP and SP, the impacts of Stalinism and social democracy, and the lack of revolutionary leadership. These elements are crucial in shaping the revolution’s outcome. Without considering them, the history of the revolution remains unfinished.

Varela’s discussion of European capitalism’s history shows a similar flaw. She highlights the plight of the oppressed but fails to explore the structural forces shaping capitalist growth. She overlooks key transitions like feudalism to capitalism, the rise of the bourgeois state, the advent of imperialism, and the worldwide aspects of capitalist accumulation. While she details the symptoms of capitalist development, she neglects its underlying laws.

This lack of theoretical analysis mirrors the political stance of today’s European left. After the Soviet Union’s collapse and the decline of social-democratic parties, the left has become wary of overarching narratives, doubtful of class analysis, and opposed to revolutionary leadership. Consequently, historiography tends to praise resistance while sidestepping issues of power.

This is the main limitation of the “people’s history” genre: it documents struggles but lacks analysis of their results. It honors resistance but doesn’t address defeat. It refers to “the people” but downplays the key role of class leadership. It tells stories of victims and heroes rather than classes and parties. Marxist historiography aims not to celebrate “the people,” but to analyze class struggle. Its goal is not just to document resistance but to explain its outcomes. It seeks understanding over moralizing. Its purpose is not to inspire but to equip.

Varela’s book, despite its strengths, falls short of this standard. While it offers a valuable correction to bourgeois historiography, it does not significantly advance Marxist theory. It reaffirms the importance of the working class in history but fails to explain its historical role. The book recounts revolutions without analyzing the conditions necessary for their success. It celebrates struggles but does not focus on leadership. Although it chronicles the oppressed, it does not present a history of class struggle in the Marxist framework.

Part III

Varela’s historiographical approach reveals more limitations when viewed against the backdrop of the broader crisis in historical consciousness during the post-Soviet period. The fall of the USSR in 1991 was seen by the bourgeois intelligentsia as the “end of history,” marking the triumph of liberal capitalism and the ultimate overthrow of Marxism. This ideological shift significantly influenced the academic left, leading to a decline in class analysis, a shift towards cultural and identity-focused perspectives, and increased skepticism about the idea of revolution. The result was a historiography that emphasised fragmentation, contingency, and micro‑history at the expense of structural analysis and global processes.

Varela’s approach partially counters current trends by emphasizing the central role of class struggle, the significance of mass movements, and the agency of oppressed groups. She rejects both liberal historiography’s complacency and post-modernism’s fatalism, bringing the working class back to the heart of European history. These are notable accomplishments. However, her work is still influenced by the post-Soviet left’s intellectual environment. It lacks the confidence found in traditional Marxist theory, avoids discussing revolutionary leadership, and replaces the scientific concept of class with the moral notion of “the people.” While she celebrates resistance, she does not delve into the conditions necessary for achieving victory.

This tension appears in her portrayal of European development’s long trajectory. Varela highlights peasant resistance to feudal lords, artisans fighting guild restrictions, workers opposing capitalist exploitation, and colonized peoples resisting imperial rule. However, she stops short of analyzing the structural shifts behind these struggles. She does not explore the transition from feudalism to capitalism, the rise of the bourgeois state, the expansion of the global market, or the rise of imperialism as a worldwide system. While she notes the signs of historical change, she overlooks its fundamental mechanisms.

Her treatment of 19th-century history notably omits structural analysis. While she links the revolutions of 1848, the unification of Germany and Italy, industrial capitalism’s growth, the rise of the labour movement, and imperialism as interconnected events, she does not explore their deeper dynamics. Key contradictions of capitalist development—such as the struggle between productive forces and relations of production, the tendency of profit rates to decline, the expansion of the global market, and intensified class conflict—are left unexamined. Consequently, her narrative becomes rich in detail but lacks the necessary theoretical clarity.

The contrast with Hobsbawm highlights important differences. His series—*Age of Revolution*, *Age of Capital*, and *Age of Empire*—provide a broad analysis of key structural changes in the modern world. They explore the links between economic growth, political systems, and social movements, and analyze capitalism’s contradictions and imperialism’s forces. Hobsbawm’s work places European history within a global context, but it is also influenced by his loyalty to the Communist Party. This limits his ability to critique Stalinism’s role in 20th-century defeats, the Soviet state’s decline, or the betrayals within the Communist International.

Varela’s work lacks the theoretical depth of Hobsbawm but echoes his political evasions. She avoids addressing Stalinism’s role in the failures of the German and Spanish revolutions, does not analyze the Soviet state’s degeneration, and omits the betrayals within the Communist International. While she details the struggles of the oppressed, she fails to scrutinize the political forces influencing their outcomes. Her work presents a history of the people but does not explore the broader class struggle.

This is where Trotsky’s method proves essential. His analyses of the Russian, German, and Spanish revolutions reveal that revolutions’ outcomes depend not on the “people” in general, but on the political leadership within the working class. Trotsky illustrated that the Russian Revolution’s success hinged on the Bolshevik Party’s capacity to provide strategic guidance, resist reformist and centrist influences, and spearhead the fight for state power. He attributed the failure of the German Revolution to betrayals by the SPD and shortcomings of the Communist Party. Additionally, he examined the counter-revolutionary role played by the Stalinist bureaucracy in Spain. His analysis also covered the interplay between objective conditions and subjective factors, spontaneous action and conscious leadership, as well as national and international developments.

This level of analysis is missing from Varela’s work. Her narrative is motivated by sympathy for the oppressed, yet it lacks a theory of revolutionary leadership. She highlights the courage and creativity of the masses but does not analyze the political forces influencing their struggles. While she celebrates resistance, she does not delve into strategy. She provides a history of the people but fails to address the broader class struggle.

This methodological weakness becomes especially clear in her discussion of the 20th century. While she links events like the First World War, the Russian Revolution, fascism’s rise, the Second World War, the post-war settlement, the Cold War, and the fall of the Soviet Union as interconnected, she does not analyze the deeper factors driving these events. Issues such as imperialism’s contradictions, the crisis of the nation-state, the influence of the Stalinist bureaucracy, and the global capitalist accumulation are left unexamined. Consequently, her narrative is detailed but lacks a solid theoretical foundation.

This lack of theoretical analysis mirrors the political stance of today’s European left. The fall of the Soviet Union and the decline of social-democratic parties have led to a left that distrusts grand narratives, doubts class analysis, and opposes the idea of revolutionary leadership. Consequently, historiography now emphasizes resistance but sidesteps issues of power.

This is the main limitation of the “people’s history” genre. It provides a record of struggles without analyzing their results. It honors resistance but doesn’t clarify why defeats happen. While it mentions ‘the people,’ it hides the crucial part played by class leadership. Essentially, it tells a story of victims and heroes, rather than focusing on classes and parties.

Marxist historiography’s purpose isn’t to praise “the people” but to analyze class struggle. It aims to explain resistance outcomes rather than just record them. Its goal isn’t moral judgment but understanding; not to inspire but to clarify. Varela’s book, despite its merits, doesn’t meet this standard. It offers a useful correction to bourgeois historiography but doesn’t significantly contribute to Marxist theory. While it restores the working class’s place in history, it doesn’t clarify their historical role. It describes revolutions but doesn’t analyze what conditions lead to their success. It celebrates struggle but overlooks leadership dynamics. It’s a history of the oppressed, not a history of class struggle in the Marxist sense.

The comparison with Zinn, Hobsbawm, and Trotsky highlights the strengths and weaknesses of Varela’s approach. Zinn provides a moral story of resistance but lacks in-depth theoretical analysis. Hobsbawm presents a structural view of capitalism but is politically biased due to his allegiance to the Communist Party. Trotsky offers a scientific perspective on revolutionary dynamics and emphasizes the importance of political leadership. Varela takes inspiration from Zinn and Hobsbawm, however, remains somewhat detached from Trotsky’s ideas. This distancing is intentional, reflecting the political stance of the modern European left, which has largely moved away from the Marxist critique of political economy and the idea of revolutionary leadership. Consequently, this historiography emphasizes resistance while sidestepping the issue of power.

The purpose of Marxist historiography is to surpass this restriction by analyzing capitalism’s structural dynamics, imperialism’s contradictions, the function of the state, class struggle movements, and the importance of political leadership. It should review past revolutions’ achievements and setbacks, recognize the betrayals by reformist and Stalinist leaders, and identify the conditions necessary for future struggles. The goal is to offer a scientific interpretation of history rather than a moralistic story.

Varela’s ‘A People’s History of Europe’ offers an important challenge to bourgeois historiography by re-centering the working class and questioning liberal narratives’ complacency. However, it is confined by the typical boundaries of the “people’s history’ genre, lacking the depth of historical materialism, the clear political stance of Trotskyism, and the comprehensive structural analysis found in Marxist historiography at its best.

Therefore, it is important to study Varela’s work together with the classical Marxist analyses by Trotsky, Lenin, and the early Comintern. These works offer the necessary theoretical framework to understand not only how and why workers fought and were defeated but also the lessons that can be learned for the future.