I.Introduction: The Disappeared as a Class Question
The disappearance of children in Guatemala—stolen during military campaigns, placed into a global adoption network, and spread worldwide—is not an isolated humanitarian issue. Instead, it represents a long-standing counterrevolutionary effort driven by US imperialism and carried out by the Guatemalan elite and military. As a recent article notes, “children became commodities because under capitalism, everything is reduced to a commodity.” This is a literal, not figurative, truth.
The case of Guatemala’s missing children and the aggressive international adoption industry that grew during and after the US-supported civil war highlight the criminal aspects of the capitalist system. These crimes—based on genocide, carried out through trafficking, and maintained by the continued suffering of millions—are not isolated incidents. Instead, they result from specific class interests and deliberate imperialist policies.
As noted, the genocide in the early 1980s was carried out with direct US support. The UN Historical Clarification Commission found that “the Guatemalan military and state caused 93 per cent of the deaths.” Entire Indigenous communities were eradicated. Under General Efraín Ríos Montt, the army conducted ‘nearly 600 massacres in a scorched-earth campaign,’ destroying between 70 and 90 per cent of Ixil Maya villages. This was more than mass murder; it was a violent restructuring of Guatemalan society to serve the interests of the national bourgeoisie and its imperialist allies. The destruction of families, communities, and social systems paved the way for a new era of exploitation: the commodification of children.
A Market Built on Genocide
The adoption industry that emerged in the 1980s and 1990s was not driven by humanitarian concern for war victims. Instead, it functioned as a market fueled by the violence of US imperialism. Many children were “stolen, coerced from impoverished families, or simply taken after military operations and funnelled into an industry that regarded Guatemalan children as commodities.” This sector was managed by lawyers, judges, police, military personnel, and international organisations. It was maintained through bribes and justified with the rhetoric of “rescue.” However, fundamentally, it was an extension of counterinsurgency strategies. The same government that massacred Indigenous parents was also selling their children abroad.
The United States and Europe, whose governments provided arms to the Guatemalan military, became primary destinations for these children. The imperialist powers responsible for the destruction of Guatemalan society ultimately absorbed its displaced populations, transforming the victims of genocide into commodities for middle-class consumption.
The Continuity of Social Crime
The causes behind this trafficking continue and have deteriorated over time. Guatemala now has a poverty rate of 59.3%, with nearly half of all children suffering from chronic malnutrition. Child welfare institutions remain unsafe, exemplified by the 2017 “safe home” fire that killed dozens of girls locked inside by authorities. In 2016, one facility alone reported 73 disappearances.
These horrors are not just remnants of past conflicts, but an ongoing reality under a capitalist system that subjects the masses to repression, hunger, and forced migration. The Guatemalan bourgeoisie—corrupt, self-interested, and heavily dependent on US imperialism—maintains control over a society in ruin. The former guerrilla group, URNG, has long since shifted away from the working class and become part of the state apparatus. Their trajectory underscores the failure of all nationalist and Stalinist movements.
Imperialism’s Ongoing War Against the Poor
The fate of Guatemala’s disappeared children is deeply linked to the deaths of Guatemalan migrants in US custody. The same imperialist power that supplied arms to the Guatemalan military now also detains Guatemalan children at the border. The pattern is evident: from scorched-earth campaigns to militarised borders; from kidnapping Indigenous children to separating migrant families; from mass graves in the highlands to anonymous graves in the desert. These are not isolated tragedies but symptoms of a global system that devalues human life.
II.The Genocidal Foundations of the Adoption Industry
Rachel Nolan’s book appropriately highlights the UN Historical Clarification Commission’s conclusion that “the Guatemalan military and state caused 93 per cent of the deaths,” a figure that destroys the myth of an equal-force “civil war.” The Guatemalan government, supported by Washington through weapons, training, and funding, waged a brutal war against the rural poor. During Ríos Montt’s regime, the army conducted “nearly 600 massacres in a scorched-earth strategy,” destroying entire communities. In the Ixil region, “between 70 and 90 per cent of its villages” were wiped out. These numbers are not just statistics; they form the basis for child disappearances, as the army’s massacres of parents left infants and toddlers as casualties of war.
The counterinsurgency teachings at the School of the Americas explicitly portrayed Indigenous communities as a “breeding ground” for subversion. Disrupting the family was not accidental but a deliberate goal. The adoption industry that arose in the 1980s and 1990s can be seen as a privatised, commodified extension of this governmental strategy.
III.The Adoption Industry as Counterinsurgency by Other Means
The book states that children were “stolen, coerced from destitute families, or simply taken after military operations and funnelled into an adoption industry that regarded Guatemalan children as commodities.” This aptly describes a system where lawyers, judges, police, military personnel, and international adoption agencies worked together to profit from the social destruction caused by the war.
Rachel Nolan’s research shows that the adoption system was not an isolated criminal operation but a sanctioned market. The Guatemalan bourgeoisie, which had gained wealth through land theft, repression, and US support, realised that Indigenous children’s bodies could be turned into cash. The United States and Europe—governments that supported the killers—became the main buyers of these children. This exemplifies imperialism: demolition of a society followed by the extraction of value from its remains.
IV.Postwar Guatemala: The Continuity of Social Crime
An article in the WSWS reported on the 2017 “safe home” fire, where dozens of girls were burned alive after being locked in by state authorities. It highlights that “in 2016 alone, there were 73 disappearances from just one facility.” These numbers show that the violence apparatus did not dismantle with the 1996 peace accords but was instead repurposed. The same government that carried out massacres against Indigenous communities now oversees: • youth shelters that act as prisons and brothels, • widespread malnutrition—“nearly half of all Guatemalan children suffer chronic malnourishment”— • and a societal structure where “59.3 per cent of the population lives in poverty.”
The URNG, formerly guerrilla fighters, now serves as an administrator of austerity. The document correctly notes that they “abandoned the class struggle after the peace accords” and integrated into the bourgeois state. Their path is similar to that of the FMLN in El Salvador and the Sandinistas in Nicaragua: nationalist movements that cannot escape the limits of capitalism.
This article argues that child trafficking stems from capitalism’s tendency to treat all human lives as commodities, an intrinsic feature. The genocides and the adoption industry are not moral failings but structural elements of a system that demands the dissolution of communal landownership and the control of labour. The Guatemalan bourgeoisie, which depended on US capital, relied on fear and extracting profit from every human interaction. Unable to create an independent national project, its survival hinged on oppressing the rural poor and opening the country to foreign markets, including those for children. The nationalist guerrilla groups, influenced by Stalinist and Maoist ideas of a “two-stage revolution,” subordinated the working class through alliances with the bourgeoisie. Their defeat was not predetermined but resulted from a flawed strategy.
VI.The International Dimension: Migration, Death, and the Global Market
The book clearly links the missing children to migrants killed in US custody. The same imperialist nation that provided arms to the Guatemalan military also detains Guatemalan children at the border. The pattern is clear: from scorchedearth strategies to ICE detention facilities; from military kidnappings to family separations; from disappeared children in the highlands to those held in US custody. These are not isolated tragedies but components of a coordinated global exploitation system.
VII.Conclusion: The Necessity of Revolutionary Internationalism
The missing children of Guatemala are not just remnants of past conflicts; they are living proof of capitalism’s ongoing war against humanity. Their situation condemns not only the Guatemalan government but the entire imperialist system.
The fight for justice for these children cannot be carried out through NGOs, nationalist parties, or corrupt Guatemalan institutions. Instead, it requires building a revolutionary Marxist movement in Guatemala, connected to the international working class and guided by the goal of a global socialist revolution.
The renewed promotion of Victor Serge—by anarchists, the pseudo-left, liberal academics, and the entire spectrum of anti-Trotskyist intellectual circles—requires a clear and honest political assessment. Republishing and celebrating Life and Death of Leon Trotsky is not just a literary act; it is a political move intended to distort the history of the October Revolution, undermine Bolshevism, and diminish Trotsky’s revolutionary legacy.
Serge’s biography reveals more about Serge’s personal political downfall than about Leon Trotsky’s life and lasting historical impact. While this is true, the wider implications are even more significant. His later writings act as a political weapon born from defeat, demoralisation, and capitulation to bourgeois ideas. Today, they serve the same purpose as in the 1940s: to hide the class struggle behind Stalinism and to obscure the clear, principled divide between Bolshevism and its Thermidorian opponents.
The Political Degeneration of Victor Serge: From Bolshevik to Fellow‑Traveller of the Bourgeoisie
Victor Serge’s early revolutionary history is undisputed. He joined the Bolsheviks in 1919, when Petrograd was starving and under siege, and he held significant roles within the Communist International. He faced imprisonment and exile during Stalin’s rule. His novels, particularly The Case of Comrade Tulayev, vividly portray bureaucratic terror. However, Serge’s tragedy is not a literary issue but a political one.
The setbacks of the 1930s profoundly affected him. The rise of Hitler, the betrayal of the Spanish Revolution, the Moscow Trials, the Stalin-Hitler Pact, and Trotsky’s assassination didn’t inspire in Serge the steadfastness of a Trotskyist; instead, they led to a loss of political direction. However, Serge was among those who “held on for a long time, but he did not hold on to the end.”
The key indicator of this collapse is Serge’s infamous letter to André Malraux, written just six days before his death, in which he pledged support to Charles de Gaulle. This document highlights the gravity of his betrayal: “A man who had once manned a submachine gun post in defence of the Bolshevik Revolution ended his life supporting a bourgeois French general.” This isn’t merely a biographical detail; it reflects the political perspective from which Life and Death of Leon Trotsky was authored.
II. Trotsky’s Break with Serge: A Necessary Political Separation
Political reasons, not personal ones, drove the split between Trotsky and Serge. Trotsky severed ties because Serge shifted towards centrism—succumbing to vacillation, moralism, and political impressionism that typically surface during reactionary periods. Serge’s attempts at conciliation with the “left” critics of Bolshevism, his flirtation with anarchism, and his increasing doubts about the dictatorship of the proletariat directly conflicted with the core principles of the Fourth International.
Trotsky recognised that opposing Stalinism demanded a clear understanding of Bolshevism’s historical role. Meanwhile, Serge increasingly argued that the origins of Stalinist terror stemmed directly from the October Revolution. This idea is a core theme of the entire “god that failed” genre, and Serge emerged as one of its earliest and most refined proponents.
The Theoretical Bankruptcy of Life and Death of Leon Trotsky
Serge’s biography reflects the doubts and moral introspection that characterised his later years. It quotes Serge asking, “Could we have misunderstood something crucial?” “Did we achieve the opposite of our intentions?” “Have we neglected man and his soul?” These questions are not typical of a Marxist. They reveal a man who has forsaken historical materialism and turned towards petty-bourgeois moral philosophy.
The biography serves a political purpose: it subtly links Bolshevism with Stalinism, revolutionary violence with bureaucratic terror, and Lenin with his executioners. As noted, “Serge’s late writings blur this distinction.” This conflation is deliberate, forming the ideological basis of Cold War anti-communism. It explains why the American right favoured Serge, the New York Review of Books, and the post-Trotskyist intellectual circle.
IV. Why Serge Is Useful to the Pseudo‑Left Today
The renewed interest in Serge today is driven more by political reasons than literary value. Groups such as the International Socialist Tendency, anarchist publishers, liberal academics, and the pseudo-left support Serge because he provides a left-leaning justification for opposing Bolshevism. This allows them to appear aligned with the revolutionary tradition while avoiding its core principles: the dictatorship of the proletariat, the necessity of a vanguard party, the legitimacy of revolutionary violence, and the fundamental doctrines of Trotskyism. “Serge is utilised to challenge the more severe aspects of Bolshevik policy… and to imply that the divide between Leninism and Stalinism was less pronounced than Trotsky claimed.” This encapsulates the political strategy behind the entire effort.
V. What Should Be Read Instead: The Marxist Tradition Against Demoralisation
Despite Serge’s discouraging moralism, the Marxist tradition remains robust. Trotsky’s My Life, as noted by David North in a recent article, is “an enduring contribution to Marxism and world literature.” Works such as In Defence of Marxism and The Revolution Betrayed provide essential theoretical frameworks for interpreting Stalinism as a counterrevolutionary bureaucracy rather than as a continuation of Bolshevism.
Despite its centrist biases, Deutscher’s trilogy is grounded in careful historical scholarship rather than existential doubt. Pierre Broué’s biography remains the most comprehensive historical account of Trotsky’s life. All these works approach the subject from a perspective rooted in historical materialism, unlike the despairing self-examination of a defeated thinker.
Conclusion: Serge’s Biography as a Political Warning
Serge’s biography “tells us more about Serge’s own political disintegration than about the life and enduring importance of Leon Trotsky.” While this is accurate, the political meaning extends beyond that. “Life and Death of Leon Trotsky” by Serge is not just a flawed book; it symbolises a wider trend: the decline of parts of the intelligentsia from Marxism in response to historical setbacks. It serves as a warning of the consequences when revolutionary ideals shift to moralism, when in-depth historical analysis gives way to existential uncertainty, and when the class struggle is replaced by a focus on the “soul.”
The task today is not to rehabilitate Serge, but to understand the political forces that shaped him—and to reject the use of his writings as a weapon against the revolutionary legacy of Leon Trotsky and the program of the Fourth International.
I. Introduction: Republicanism and the Contemporary Academy
Rachel Hammersley’s *Republicanism: An Introduction* emerges at a time when the crisis in liberal-capitalist societies has sparked renewed interest in alternative political vocabularies. In the English-speaking academic world, this has led to a prominent revival of “republican” political theory, primarily associated with the Cambridge School and its focus on contextualist intellectual history. Hammersley’s book exemplifies this trend: it offers a clear, well-informed overview of the republican tradition from ancient times to today, crafted with the pedagogical clarity typical of an introductory work.
The features that make the book accessible also expose its limitations. As your original assessment states, it is “an introduction to bourgeois political thought about itself.” The work is part of an intellectual project that, although presented as historical, is fundamentally ideological. The republican revival has served more as a way for the current intelligentsia to adopt a vocabulary of near-radicalism, while leaving the core structures of capitalist society intact, rather than as a genuine critique of modern political systems.
II. The Cambridge School and the Depoliticisation of Intellectual History
Hammersley’s text clearly reflects the influence of Cambridge School methodologies. Its focus on analysing political ideas within their linguistic and discursive frameworks has provided valuable insights into early modern political thought. Nonetheless, the approach consistently hesitates to address the material and class roots of political ideologies. In Hammersley’s interpretation, republicanism is portrayed as a timeless discourse centred on notions such as “virtue,” “non-domination,” and “civic participation,” often divorced from the social relations that shape these concepts.
This abstraction is more than just a methodological oversight; it embodies the wider ideological trend in today’s academia, which has shifted away from materialist analysis toward textualist and normative approaches that align with the interests of the professional-managerial class.
III. Neo‑Republicanism and the Ideology of the Professional Class
The contemporary revival of republican theory, especially in Philip Pettit’s work, should be understood within this sociological backdrop. It emerged following the setbacks faced by radical movements of the 1960s and 1970s. Neo-republicanism proposes a view of freedom as “non-domination” that initially seems to oppose the atomistic individualism typical of neoliberalism. However, as your evaluation rightly highlights, this opposition is limited. Pettit’s approach deliberately omits the most widespread forms of domination in capitalist societies, such as exploitation through wage labour, market coercion, and the class nature of the modern state. It “deliberately excludes domination rooted in wage relationships, market dictatorship, and class structures.”
Neo-republicanism operates as a political theory designed to resonate with the academic upper-middle class: it is critical in tone, reform-minded in its core ideas, and ultimately aligns with maintaining capitalist social structures.
IV. The Historical Class Character of Republicanism
A materialist approach to republicanism must recognise that, in its early forms, it was the political ideology of the emerging bourgeoisie. From Renaissance Italy’s civic humanism to the radicalism of the English Commonwealth and the Jacobinism of the French Revolution, republicanism expressed the goals of a class aiming to overthrow feudal and absolutist systems and create the conditions for capitalist growth.
Marx’s early writings emphasise the shortcomings of this ideology. In ‘On the Jewish Question,’ he distinguishes between political and human emancipation, arguing that the republican state: “abolishes feudal distinctions in the political sphere only to leave the real inequalities of civil society… untouched.” This realisation signifies Marx’s departure from the republican tradition and his acknowledgement that, although abolishing political privilege is a historic step forward, it does not eliminate the underlying systems of class control based on private property.
V. Marx’s Analysis of the Bourgeois Republic
Hammersley’s survey, along with the broader republican revival, overlooks the deeper insights of Marx’s advanced analysis of the bourgeois republic. In works such as *The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte* and *The Class Struggles in France*, Marx maintained that the republic is not simply a neutral institutional structure but is the political form most suited to serve capitalist interests. While it appears to represent popular sovereignty, real power remains concentrated within the market, bureaucracy, and—if needed—the repressive state apparatus.
The June Days of 1848, when the French bourgeois republic massacred the Parisian proletariat, stand as the most conclusive historical refutation of the claim that republicanism has universal validity.
VI. The Attempt to Recast Marx as a Republican Thinker
Recent scholarly efforts, such as those by Bruno Leipold, to interpret Marx as a form of republican theorist aim to domesticate Marxism by aligning it with bourgeois political ideas. Your evaluation rightly dismisses this revisionism, emphasising that the core task isn’t to find superficial similarities between Marx and republican thought, but to understand the crucial break Marx made with traditional ideas—notably, his recognition of the proletariat as the revolutionary subject and his belief that true emancipation depends on abolishing capitalist property relations.
VII. Conclusion: The Limits of Hammersley’s Project
Hammersley’s ‘Republicanism: An Introduction’ effectively surveys how mainstream academia interprets its own intellectual background. However, it falls short of offering what is most essential: a materialist perspective on republicanism as the political ideology of a particular class during a specific stage of history. Your assessment concludes that it “cannot provide what is most necessary: a materialist analysis of republicanism… and an understanding of why that ideology… cannot be the basis for the liberation of humanity from class exploitation.” Such an analysis lies beyond the conceptual horizon of the republican revival. It belongs, instead, to the Marxist tradition, which alone situates political ideas within the dynamics of class struggle and the historical development of the capitalist mode of production.
Yehoshua Yakhot’s biographical appendix in *The Suppression of Philosophy in the 1920s* describes this record as, beyond just a metaphor, a form of political extermination, similar to a death register. The most prominent early Soviet Marxist philosophers vanish suddenly during the dark years of 1936 to 1938 — specifically in 1936, 1937, and 1938. The Great Terror not only stopped Marxist intellectual progress but also physically eliminated its supporters. It is evident that, “after people were executed, they were virtually erased from history.”
This fundamental truth is often avoided by bourgeois academics, Stalinist defenders, and post-Soviet nationalists. The abolition of Soviet philosophy wasn’t accidental or a mistake; it wasn’t a tragic mistake from a mainly logical socialist project. Instead, it was a deliberate move by a bureaucratic elite that seized power from the working class. They could only stay in control by erasing the intellectual, political, and moral legacy of October.
The Bureaucracy’s War Against Memory
Yakhot’s accomplishment isn’t just in reconstructing the philosophical debates of the 1920s; it’s also in revealing how the bureaucracy aimed to suppress them. The Stalinist regime recognised that maintaining its nationalist, anti-internationalist «socialism in one country» program required eradicating the living link to Marxism. This involved not only eliminating Oppositionists but also destroying any chance of their being remembered.
The Great Terror was primarily a political and epistemological campaign. Following executions, authorities worked to erase names from textbooks, libraries, and encyclopaedias. The bureaucracy aimed to eliminate any record of the Left Opposition, erase the philosophical debates of the 1920s, and ensure Lenin and Trotsky’s ideological legacies had no successors. This explains why the appendix in Yakhot’s book is so unsettling — it functions as a list of those whom history was ordered to forget.
Writing Under the Shadow of the Terror
Yakhot authored his book within the USSR before his compelled emigration in 1975. Born in 1919, he was a young man during the Terror era. He experienced the abrupt disappearances, hushed rumours, and the empty spaces where colleagues and teachers once stood. When he discusses the “Menshevizing Idealists,” he is not simply reconstructing history academically but is instead engaging in a form of historical revival.
He understood that the names he revived were those condemned to obscurity by the bureaucracy. He also knew that the philosophical discussions he pieced together were debates the bureaucracy claimed never occurred. The men whose ideas he examined had been executed, starved, or forced to die in the camps. Writing such a book under these circumstances was a bold act of intellectual bravery and political resistance.
The Destruction of the Institute of Red Professors
The Institute of Red Professors, whose students are listed in Yakhot’s “death register,” served as the core intellectual hub of the early Soviet Union. It trained a generation of Marxist philosophers, economists, and historians dedicated to building the ideological foundation of the workers’ republic. Many of these individuals had supported the Left Opposition in 1923. By 1936–38, simply having this affiliation was enough to sentence them to execution. The Soviet bureaucracy recognised that these people embodied the enduring spirit of October, making their purge a necessary political act.
Instead, the regime promoted the Mitins, the Yudins, and the Konstantinovs—officials whose job was not to think but to monitor ideas. They oversaw the shift of Marxist philosophy into a formalised excuse for bureaucratic privileges.
Theoretical Murder as the Essence of Stalinism
The core insight—and that of Yakhot’s book—is that the violent suppression of Marxist philosophers represented the logical endpoint of the Stalinist counter-revolution. Trotsky had warned since 1923 that the bureaucracy, rooted in scarcity and isolation, would inevitably clash with the revolutionary and internationalist spirit of Marxism. The Terror was the outcome of this conflict. Stalinism could not coexist with true Marxist thought; it needed to eliminate it. Therefore, equating Marxism with Stalinism is both historically inaccurate and politically reactionary. Stalinism was not a continuation but a negation of Marxism—a brutal, bloody rebuke to it.
Yakhot’s Final Act of Fidelity
Yakhot never abandoned Marxism. He spent his final days working on a study of Spinoza. This alone counters the cynical notion that the crimes of Stalinism undermine the revolutionary legacy. Yakhot’s life shows that the Marxist tradition persisted not through official Soviet philosophy but through those persecuted, exiled, and silenced. His book is thus more than a historical study; it serves as a memorial — a tribute to the murdered generation of Soviet Marxist philosophers — and as a polemical challenge against the falsification of history.
Conclusion: The Meaning of the “Death Register”
The “death register” at the end of Yakhot’s book is more than just an appendix; it serves as the core argument. It demonstrates that Stalinism was a form of counter-revolution, with the bureaucracy maintaining control through murder, and that the fall of Marxist philosophy marked the near destruction of the intellectual vanguard of the working class. Recalling these names is a way to recover the truth, and by doing so, to revive the revolutionary tradition that Stalinism aimed to wipe out. Yakhot’s work stands as both a testament to that tradition and a warning that fighting against historical distortion is inherently linked to the fight for socialism.
Brian Reade’s comparison of the 2026 World Cup to Hitler’s 1936 Olympics has triggered the usual hand-wringing in liberal circles. Despite its rhetorical flair, Reade’s argument—like all moralistic complaints from the declining Labour-aligned press—falls apart due to political evasions. The comparison with 1936 is not incorrect; what is flawed is the conclusion he draws from it.[1]
The United States, hosting the 2026 World Cup, is not just “controversial”; it embodies global imperialism through its illegal war against Iran, supporting the Gaza genocide, and conducting mass arrests and deportations of immigrant workers, unprecedented in recent American history. As has been reported, ICE agents will be present at every stadium. The Iranian team has been denied visas and faced what can only be seen as a veiled death threat from Trump. Meanwhile, the Congolese team has been targeted with a racist quarantine order that reflects the imperial disdain typical of the US-NATO war efforts.
Comparing these events to 1936 is more than an exaggeration; it’s an understatement. The Nazi regime used the Berlin Olympics to project an image of a peaceful, cultured Germany while secretly preparing for genocide. Likewise, the Trump administration exploits the World Cup to spread a message of “unity,” even as ICE functions as an anti-immigrant force similar to the Gestapo, and the Pentagon conducts widespread destruction in the Middle East. Yet, beyond these parallels, the comparison quickly falls apart—and it exposes the political shortcomings of Reade’s framework.
The Liberal Myth of 1936
Reade, like all liberal moralists, references 1936 as a moral story: Jesse Owens humbling Hitler, representing individual bravery overcoming bigotry, and suggesting that sport can “shame” authoritarian regimes. This narrative serves as the mythology of a ruling class eager to hide its own complicity.
The stark truth is that by 1936, the German working class was crushed. The Communist Party and Social Democrats had betrayed the proletariat, paving the way for Hitler’s rise. Western democracies, especially Britain and the United States, did not boycott Berlin; instead, they collaborated. The American Olympic Committee, led by fascist-sympathizer Avery Brundage, fiercely resisted any boycott efforts. Meanwhile, US companies like IBM and Ford gained significant profits through their association with the Nazi regime.
The lesson from 1936 is not that sport can be corrupted by bad governments, but that the capitalist elites worldwide will cooperate with fascism when it benefits their interests. Only the unified effort of the global working class could have prevented Hitler’s rise, and only such collective action can now prevent our slide into war and dictatorship.
The Liberal Illusion of Boycotts and Moral Appeals
Reade’s strategies—such as boycotts, moral condemnations, and appeals to FIFA or the “international community”—are typical of a political tendency that has detached itself from the working class. These approaches rely on the false belief that the capitalist state and its institutions can be coerced into ethical actions.
However, FIFA is not an impartial judge corrupted by Trump; rather, it functions as a tool of global capitalism. Its president, Gianni Infantino, awarded Trump the bizarre “FIFA Peace Prize.” The tournament’s design—opening match in Mexico City with the later rounds held in the United States—reflects the geography of imperial power.
What about the governments Reade suggests might “take a stand”? Starmer’s Labour largely supports US imperialist wars as a loyal junior partner. The Democratic Party managed the same deportation system and imperialist machinery before Trump came back into office. Appealing to these forces means aligning with those responsible for the disaster.
Sport as a Weapon of the Capitalist State
Reade’s framework embraces the nationalist idea that the key issue in modern sport is determining which nation is “fit” to host. However, every capitalist country employs sport as a means of nationalist mobilization. The 2012 London Olympics, the 2014 Sochi Games, and the 2018 World Cup in Russia—each was used to cloak social inequality and imperial ambitions with patriotic symbolism.
However, the nationalist story is beginning to weaken. During the Milan Winter Olympics, thousands demonstrated against Trump and ICE, booing Vice President Vance. US athletes openly expressed their disapproval of the regime. Freestyle skier Chris Lillis said he was “heartbroken” over ICE’s actions and emphasized that athletes represent a different America than the one involved in mass repression.
Even in the United States, the nationalist event is faltering. While 75% of Americans are aware that the US is hosting the World Cup, almost a third intend to support a different country. This significant statistic highlights the immigrant heritage and globalist sentiments of millions—sentiments that the ruling elite cannot eliminate.
The Working Class and the Real Lesson of 2026
Modern football was built by the working class, shaping its culture, passion, and worldwide popularity— all rooted in working-class life. Instead of a moral boycott by liberal columnists, the solution to the nationalist spectacle of the 2026 World Cup is promoting awareness among the political class. The 1936 Olympics happened after the German working class was politically defeated and betrayed by Stalinism and social democracy. Similarly, the 2026 World Cup unfolds at a time when the international working class has yet to develop the revolutionary leadership needed to stop the progression toward war and dictatorship.
The lesson is not that sport should be considered ‘pure” or “apolitical.” Throughout history, sport has always had political implications. The real lesson is that combating fascism, war, and authoritarianism cannot be delegated to FIFA, bourgeois governments, or the conscience of the ruling class. Instead, it must be done by the international working class.
Sean McMeekin has established himself over the past fifteen years as a leading figure in the spread of anti-communist falsehoods in the English-speaking world. His publications—including *The Russian Revolution: A New History* (2017), *Stalin’s War* (2021), *The Ottoman Endgame* (2015), *July 1914* (2013), and *To Overthrow the World: The Rise and Fall of Communism* (2024)—form a consistent ideological agenda.
These are not neutral scholarly works but political efforts to undermine Marxism, justify imperialism, and revive reactionary myths from the 20th century. McMeekin’s body of work is centred on a single premise: the October Revolution was disastrous, socialism is fundamentally authoritarian, and imperialist crimes are minor compared to the supposed atrocities committed by Marxist revolutionaries. This is more of an ideological battle than a historical account. It should be noted that McMeekin is not the only historian of the reactionary era.
Richard Pipes: The Court Historian of the American National‑Security State
Richard Pipes was less a historian of the Russian Revolution and more its prosecutor, assigned by the American ruling class to justify its worldwide anti-communist efforts. His work exemplifies Cold War reaction, dismissing class struggle, condemning Marxism, and displaying a contempt for the working class that approaches the pathological.
Pipes’ main claim—that Russia lacked a true “civil society” and thus couldn’t generate a real revolution—was more a political dogma than a historical analysis. It enabled him to dismiss the entire mass movement of 1917 as driven by a conspiratorial minority. In Pipes’ perspective, millions of workers, soldiers, and peasants are invisible except as mere scenery for the scheming of “fanatics.”
His approach was straightforward: disregard the extensive documentary evidence of mass participation, select quotes that align with his thesis, invent unsubstantiated motives for Lenin and Trotsky, and blur the lines between Bolshevism and Stalinism to discredit both. Pipes’ work had a political aim: to give the Reagan administration and the CIA a pseudo-scholarly basis for their global counter-revolutionary efforts. He was the key architect of the “evil empire” narrative. His books are more ideological tools than history; they serve political purposes. By the late 20th century, Pipes was the most influential fabricator regarding the Russian Revolution.
Robert Conquest: The CIA’s Poet‑Propagandist
Robert Conquest was not truly a historian. Instead, he served as a propaganda officer for the British Foreign Office’s Information Research Department (IRD), a secret anti-communist division supported and led in partnership with the CIA. His publications were created as components of an intelligence effort rather than scholarly works.
Conquest’s approach was blunt but successful: he accepted hearsay as fact, inflated figures without evidence, uncritically used émigré testimony, presented speculation as certainty, and ignored archival material that contradicted his narrative. His most renowned works—The Great Terror and Harvest of Sorrow—were created to serve Cold War political agendas. They aimed to depict communism as fundamentally genocidal and to discredit socialist movements by linking them to mass murder.
Conquest’s legacy lies in popularising anti-communist myths within Western academia. Despite the opening of Soviet archives discrediting many of his assertions, his figures and stories persisted because they aligned with the ideological interests of the ruling class. Conquest was a Cold War propagandist posing as a historian.
Robert Service: The Biographical Assassin
Robert Service represents the degeneration of anti‑communist historiography in the post‑Soviet era. Unlike Pipes or Conquest, he had access to archives. Unlike Figes, he had no literary talent. Unlike McMeekin, he lacked even the energy of a polemicist. What he produced instead was character assassination disguised as biography.
His Trotsky biography exemplifies scholarly malpractice, with numerous factual errors, misquotations, distortions, and fabrications. It was so blatant that other historians reluctantly criticized it, accusing him of factual inaccuracies, methodological bias, and errors. The American Historical Review also condemned its inaccuracies. Even scholars who opposed Trotsky felt embarrassed. Service’s approach depends on psychological reductionism: depicting Lenin as cold and manipulative, Trotsky as vain and egotistical, and Bolshevism as a pathology rather than a political movement.
This isn’t history; it’s sensationalist psychoanalysis. The aim is to undermine Marxism by portraying its leaders as emotionally unstable. Instead of explaining the revolution, he diagnoses its figures. Service is a superficial biographer whose work falls apart under close examination.
Orlando Figes: The Liberal Tragedian of the Revolution
Orlando Figes seems the most superficially “balanced” within the group, but politics equally shape his work. His narrative approach and literary style conceal a fundamental liberal hostility towards the working class and a pronounced scepticism of revolutionary politics. Figes’ central claim is that the revolution was a “tragedy”—driven by cultural backwardness, emotional excess, and luck. This view allows him to dismiss the class dynamics of 1917, simplify political movements to psychological triggers, and portray the revolution as a moral failure rather than a social necessity.
The liberal concern about mass politics influences Fige’s work, viewing the working class’s rise as dangerous. His narrative laments the failure of the “moderates”. His career was marred by scandal when he was caught writing anonymous Amazon reviews to praise his own books and criticise rivals. This minor misconduct reflects the broader dishonesty in his historiography. Figes is a liberal moralist who romanticises the revolution, removing its political substance.
Sean McMeekin: The 21st‑Century Falsifier
Sean McMeekin exemplifies this entire tradition, where anti-communist history dismisses even the appearance of rigorous scholarship. His work compiles every slander, falsification, and falsehood ever associated with the Russian Revolution. McMeekin is known for reintroducing discredited claims such as Lenin being a German agent, an anti-Semite, Trotsky as a Bundist, and October as a foreign-funded coup. These assertions were debunked over a century ago, yet he continues to repeat them to serve his political aims. As David North pointed out, he manipulates sources by misrepresenting scholars like Lyandres and distorting their conclusions to support statements they explicitly oppose. He dismisses the working class, framing the revolution as a criminal conspiracy rather than a mass movement.
This aligns with Pipes’ thesis, but McMeekin strips it of its original scholarly context, turning it into a crude political polemic. His writing style is that of a political combatant. His epilogue, “The Spectre of Communism,” openly states his goal of warning against contemporary socialist ideas. He is not an objective historian but is instead crafting a political manifesto for the right. McMeekin stands out as the most blatant falsifier of the Russian Revolution in the 21st century.
Final Synthesis: The Anti‑Communist School Exposed
These five historians vary in style, era, and approach. Yet, they serve a common political purpose: to deny the revolutionary power of the working class and to delegitimise socialism as a historical force. Conquest contributed propaganda, Pipes supplied ideological framing, the service offered character assassination, Figes expressed liberal lamentation, and McMeekin fuelled culture-war hysteria.
McMeekin’s newest book is part of a well-known genre of anti-communist propaganda. It gathers all accusations ever made against socialism and communism, takes them out of context, dismisses any evidence that might suggest their innocence, and presents the biased story to a publishing industry eager to discredit the revolutionary tradition. This characterisation applies not just to ‘To Overthrow the World’ but to McMeekin’s entire body of work.
The Method: Falsification as Historical Practice
The Inversion of Evidence
McMeekin’s signature approach involves turning evidence upside down. He cites reputable research exclusively to oppose its conclusions. A well-known example is his treatment of Semion Lyandres’ “The Bolsheviks’ German Gold” Revisited. Lyandres explicitly stated that: “There was no evidence of the ‘German connection.’” McMeekin references Lyandres but asserts the opposite. This is not a mistake; it appears to be intentional deception.
The Fabrication of Motives and Events
In *The Russian Revolution: A New History*, McMeekin incorrectly asserts that the 1903 Bolshevik–Menshevik split revolved around “the Jewish question,” claims Martov founded the Bund, and alleges Lenin supported anti-Semitic views. This is a significant error—more than simple inaccuracy, it’s a calculated defamation disguised as scholarship. McMeekin’s distortions are consistently motivated by political agendas, seeking to undermine the Bolshevik legacy by associating it with reactionary chauvinism.
The Psychologization of History
McMeekin often replaces material analysis with psychological speculation. He portrays Lenin as a fanatic, Trotsky as a conspirator, Stalin as a misunderstood pragmatist, and imperialist politicians as sober realists. This approach lets McMeekin sidestep the social forces shaping history—such as class struggle, economic crises, and imperialist rivalries—and instead simplifies events to the acts of “armed prophets” and “utopian dreamers.”
The Sanitisation of Imperialism
In Stalin’s War, McMeekin reinterprets the foreign policy of Western imperialist powers, depicting them as hesitant actors compelled into global conflict by Soviet treachery. The narrative omits the crimes of colonialism, the genocidal actions of the British Empire, and the economic interests driving imperialist wars. The sole villain allowed to stand is communism.
McMeekin openly reveals his political bias saying “Social inequality will always be with us… The necessary response… [is to] strengthen our defences and resist armed prophets promising social perfection.” This reflects the core of his ideology: inequality is constant, revolution is risky, and the ruling class must be ready to use violence to suppress social equality movements. His regret that Kerensky did not “physically exterminate the Bolsheviks” in July 1917 exemplifies this worldview. McMeekin writes history to justify repression, turning his books into guides for counter-revolution.
McMeekin in the Anti‑Communist Canon
McMeekin is recognised alongside Robert Service, Stephen Kotkin, Timothy Snyder, and Frank Dikötter as a prominent figure in the “rise and fall of communism” genre. These works often: “equate Stalinism with communism… and thereby obscure the revolutionary legacy of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and Trotsky.” Notably crude distortions of sources mark McMeekin’s role in this field, a tendency to revive discredited accusations (such as “German gold”), and an open endorsement of counter-revolutionary violence. While Kotkin seeks scholarly seriousness and Snyder adopts a moralistic stance, McMeekin prefers the blunt force of reactionary polemics.
The Real History: Revolution and Counter‑Revolution
Against McMeekin’s distortions, it is important to reassert the essential truth: “The October Revolution was the greatest event in human history—the first time the working class took state power and began the construction of a society free from exploitation.”
McMeekin cannot explain the revolution because he fails to acknowledge the role of the masses. To him, history is driven by conspirators rather than the millions of workers, peasants, and soldiers who actively participated in the 1917 crisis. Likewise, he cannot account for Stalinism because he refuses to recognise the political struggle led by the Left Opposition. As Vadim Rogovin shows, Stalinism was not the realisation of Bolshevism but its opposite— a bureaucratic counter-revolution based on the Soviet state’s isolation. McMeekin collapses these distinctions because his purpose is not to understand history but to destroy the revolutionary tradition.
Why McMeekin Matters: The Bourgeoisie Arms Itself
The resurgence of anti-communist falsifications responds to the worsening crisis of global capitalism. As I previously noted, “Books like McMeekin’s are a measure of the ruling class’s fear, not its confidence.” The ruling class detects a revival of revolutionary feelings and reacts by hiring intellectual mercenaries to rewrite history, vilify socialism, and justify repression. McMeekin exemplifies one such mercenary. His work serves as an ideological counterpart to state militarisation, the suppression of dissent, and preparations for new imperialist conflicts.
Conclusion: Exposing the Falsifier
Sean McMeekin’s work is more propaganda than scholarship. It manipulates evidence, twists motives, ignores class struggle, sanitises imperialism, and vilifies revolution. It aligns with the political interests of a ruling class facing its most significant crisis since the 1930s.
Antonio Scurati’s M: Il figlio del secolo (2018) has been celebrated by Italy’s cultural elite as a major achievement: winning the Premio Strega, becoming a publishing sensation, and inspiring a lavish Sky TV adaptation. Its success is closely linked to the political context of its release. The novel appeared in 2018, a year when the Five Star–Lega coalition brought far-right politics into government, and just four years before Giorgia Meloni’s Fratelli d’Italia—descendants of Mussolini’s movement—came to power.
The celebration of Scurati’s Mussolini novel isn’t just a cultural event; it reflects a broader ideological trend. It contributes to normalising, trivialising, and aesthetically sanitising fascism within bourgeois society. As Peter Schwarz noted during the centenary of the March on Rome, the anniversary was “not only of historical interest but of urgent political relevance. Just a week prior, his political successors had taken control of the Italian government.” The support for M by the Italian intellectuals should be understood within this framework.
The Novel’s Method: Biography as Historical Obfuscation
Scurati’s main idea—that Mussolini is the “son of the century’ and embodies the spirit of his time—exposes a key ideological flaw in the novel. The text rightly points out that this is a methodological mistake: “Fascism is explained not as a product of the crisis of capitalism… but rather as the expression of a historical Zeitgeist incarnated in a single personality.” This is more than just an artistic decision; it constitutes a political misrepresentation.
By focusing on Mussolini’s psychology, charisma, sexual appetites, and opportunism, Scurati echoes typical bourgeois historical narratives. The underlying issues, such as the crisis of Italian capitalism, betrayals by the PSI reformist leadership, the trade-union bureaucracy’s cowardice, and Stalinist sabotage of revolutionary potential, are overshadowed by the novelist’s obsession with the dictator’s personality.
Trotsky’s analysis, referenced in the document, begins with a different assumption: “When the ‘normal’ police and military forces of the bourgeois dictatorship… fail to uphold social stability, the fascist regime seizes power.” Fascism is not a result of a “century spirit,’ but a tool of the ruling class created by finance capital to oppose the revolutionary working class. Scurati’s biographical approach consistently conceals this reality.
The Disappearance of the Working Class
M’s most revealing aspect is how it systematically removes the working class’s presence. The Biennio Rosso—the period marked by factory occupations, workers’ councils, and a near-revolutionary upheaval in 1919–1920—acts only as a faint backdrop to Mussolini’s actions. As the document states: “The true tragedy of Italian fascism is not Mussolini’s charisma or monstrosity; it is that a significant revolutionary working-class movement was crushed for lack of a truly Marxist leadership.”
This is the history Scurati cannot disclose. His narrative, focused on the dictator as the central figure, makes it impossible. The working class appears as a faceless crowd, serving only as a backdrop for Mussolini’s actions. The revolutionary potential of the Italian proletariat—once a source of concern for the bourgeoisie and an inspiration for workers across Europe—is now reduced to mere atmospheric detail. This issue goes beyond literature and has political implications. Omitting the working class from the history of fascism becomes a necessary step toward its political rehabilitation.
Aestheticisation and the Seductions of Reaction
The novel’s use of documentary elements—such as archival excerpts, letters, and newspaper clippings—has been widely recognised as a mark of seriousness. However, this approach does not prevent fascism from being aestheticised; in fact, it sometimes promotes it. The document itself warns that “the line between critical representation and aesthetic complicity is thin,” and Scurati often crosses this boundary. By centring Mussolini in a sweeping narrative, the novel makes him inherently compelling. Readers are encouraged to view things from his perspective, follow his rise, and see the consolidation of fascist power as a compelling story arc. This reflects the long-standing danger in bourgeois portrayals of fascism: the tendency to turn political tragedy into a visual or artistic spectacle.
David Walsh’s critique of The March on Rome is relevant here too: the work “includes much intriguing imagery… but is confused and, in the end, quite wrong-headed.” Scurati compiles a comprehensive documentary record, but the framework—Mussolini as the “son of the century”—fails to create an accurate portrayal of fascism.
The Political Function of M: Fascism as Cultural Spectacle
The widespread popularity of M serves a clear ideological purpose in modern Italy. As was said before, the novel enables middle-class readers to explore fascism as a historical event, while those connected to fascism strengthen their political influence today. The core of the novel’s political significance lies in its transformation of fascism from a present threat into a literary relic. It allows intellectuals to feel morally superior without confronting the rise of the far right today. It aestheticises the bourgeoisie’s historical crimes, making them seem safe for consumption. Additionally, it conceals the class forces that gave rise to fascism and are behind its recent revival. This is no coincidence; it reflects the cultural shift parallel to the political reintegration of the far right.
Conclusion: What the Working Class Requires
The working class does not require another grand novel about Mussolini. Instead, it needs a scientific Marxist analysis of fascism as a particular form of bourgeois dominance, rooted in the capitalist crisis and only preventable through the autonomous political mobilisation of the working class. The document ends with justified sternness: “On that score, Scurati’s novel offers nothing.” This is the core judgment. M: Il figlio del secolo is not a valuable contribution to understanding fascism. Rather, it stands as a monument to the ideological evasions of today’s bourgeois intellectuals—a literary expression of the very crisis that is once again elevating the far right to power.
Anna Reid’s A Nasty Little War isn’t a traditional history book. Instead, it’s a political tool—a meticulously constructed lie aimed at benefiting the same imperialist forces that caused bloodshed in Russia in 1918 and are now involved in a destructive proxy war in Eastern Europe. Its goal is to numb the working class, hide the class-driven nature of imperialist violence, and restore the ideological basis for a new global conflict.
The main argument of the book—that the Allied intervention in Soviet Russia was a “nasty little” misadventure—is a grotesque misrepresentation. It serves as a falsehood fabricated by a ruling class planning new atrocities.
I. The Historical Crime Reid Cannot Admit
The Allied intervention was a major attempt by global capitalism to suppress the workers’ state. Fourteen imperialist countries—Britain, France, the US, Japan, and their allies—launched a multi-front invasion to overturn the October Revolution and restore capitalist control. Winston Churchill, the main planner of the intervention, openly stated that the Bolshevik Revolution needed to be “strangled in its cradle.” Reid mentions this line but only as a vivid detail, ignoring its grave significance: the ruling class recognised that the October Revolution posed a direct threat to their worldwide dominance.
Reid’s narrative centres on concealing this truth. She depicts the intervention as a tragic confusion, a geopolitical mistake, a “nasty little war” that spiralled out of control. This is not just inadequate; it is a political lie.
II. The Erasure of the Working Class: The Central Falsification
The most striking aspect of Reid’s book is how it almost completely omits the international working class—the key group that opposed the intervention. This omission is intentional, not accidental, serving a strategic political purpose.
Britain
The “Hands Off Russia” movement mobilised hundreds of thousands of workers, with dockers refusing to load munitions and railway workers refusing to transport them. The Labour leadership, fearing the rank and file, pressured the government to withdraw. Reid, however, dismisses this as a minor aside.
France
The Black Sea mutinies, in which French sailors refused to fire on Bolshevik positions, were essentially political revolts that deeply unsettled the French ruling class. Reid views them primarily as a morale issue.
Canada
The Victoria mutiny, where conscripts refused to go to Vladivostok, was a clear sign of anti-war and pro-Bolshevik feelings. Reid hardly mentions it.
Why this matters
The defeat of the Allied intervention was due not only to the Red Army but also to the global working class. This fact challenges bourgeois historians because it shows that workers, when acting consciously and internationally, have the power to halt imperialist wars. Reid’s silence is deliberate; it forms the core falsehood that underpins her entire story.
III. The Political Function of Reid’s Book in the Present War Drive
Reid is part of the same ideological circle as Timothy Snyder, Anne Applebaum, and the broader group of academics and journalists who support NATO’s geopolitical goals. Her earlier book, Borderland, helped spread the nationalist mythology that now forms the basis of Western policy in Ukraine. A Nasty Little War serves a similar purpose.
By portraying the 1918–20 intervention as a tragic miscalculation rather than a counter‑revolutionary crusade, Reid accomplishes three political tasks:
She sanitises imperialism. The great powers appear misguided, not murderous.
She erases the working class. The decisive force in history disappears, replaced by diplomats and generals.
She legitimises contemporary aggression. If past interventions were merely “nasty little” mistakes, then today’s intervention in Ukraine can be framed as a noble defence of democracy.
Reid’s book is thus not a contribution to historical understanding but a weapon in the ideological arsenal of the ruling class.
IV. The Real History: A Global Class War
The Allied intervention was a worldwide counter-revolutionary campaign that covered regions such as the Arctic, Siberia, the Caucasus, the Baltic, and the Black Sea. It involved widespread atrocities committed by the White armies, including pogroms, torture, and mass executions. Reid notes these brutal acts diligently but avoids explaining them, unwilling to acknowledge that these atrocities were not isolated incidents but manifestations of the social forces that the imperialist powers aimed to reinstate.
The Bolsheviks’ success was not due to ruthlessness, as Reid suggests, but rather because they embodied the only social force capable of mobilising the masses: the working class and the poor peasantry. Their victory was part of the revolutionary surge across Europe from 1918 to 1923. Reid misses this point because it highlights the working class’s revolutionary potential today.
V. The Continuity of Imperialist Violence
Reid’s book comes at a time when the same imperialist powers that invaded Russia in 1918 are once again engaged in conflict in Eastern Europe. This ongoing pattern is no coincidence but reflects a structural continuity. In 1918, the goal was to dismantle the workers’ state. In 2023–26, the objective shifts to subordinating Russia to Western financial interests and encircling China.
Reid’s downplaying of history obscures this continuity. By describing the earlier intervention as a “nasty little war,” she normalises the belief that the West has the right to intervene anywhere, anytime, for any reason. This serves as ideological groundwork for a much larger conflict.
VI. The Marxist Lesson: Only the Working Class Can Stop Imperialist War
The defeat of the Allied intervention was not a miracle; it resulted from the Bolshevik Party’s revolutionary leadership, the international solidarity of the working class, and the clarity of Marxist politics. Later, Stalinism undermined this leadership with its nationalist doctrine of “socialism in one country,” which disconnected the revolution from its international roots. This led to the Soviet state’s bureaucratic decline and the eventual return of capitalism. Today, as the Fourth International has argued since 1938, rebuilding this revolutionary leadership on an international scale is crucial. The working class remains the only force capable of preventing a new world war. Reid’s book aims to stop the working class from having to learn this lesson the hard way.
VII. Conclusion: Against Historical Falsification, For Revolutionary Clarity
A Nasty Little War is more than just a popular history; it serves as a political tool supporting imperialism. It distorts the past to justify current actions, dismisses the working class to weaken it, and turns a global class struggle into a tragic misunderstanding. Marxists must reject this account outright. The genuine history of the Allied intervention highlights: the relentless hostility of imperialism toward any challenge from below, the power of a conscious, international working class, and the crucial importance of revolutionary leadership. These lessons are not just theoretical—they are urgent. With the world teetering on the edge of a new imperialist crisis, the working class must arm itself with the unvarnished truth of history, not the sanitized myths peddled by bourgeois historians.
1. Introduction: The Manufacture of Historical Amnesia
For over thirty years, bourgeois historiography of the Soviet collapse has been dominated by a persistent myth: that the USSR’s breakup symbolised the victory of “democracy” over “communism,” the triumph of liberal reformers over reactionary hardliners, and the ultimate failure of Marxism. This story—repeated tirelessly across works by Western scholars, Cold War propagandists, and former Stalinists—has become the ideological basis for the post-Soviet world. It has legitimised the theft of state assets, the suffering of millions, and Russia’s shift into a mafia-driven petro-state controlled by oligarchs and security clans.
Robert Service is one of the most dishonest sources of this mythology, with his writings on the Russian Revolution, Stalinism, and the Soviet collapse repeatedly shown to be politically biased distortions. His book about the 1991 August coup exemplifies this, blending his known intellectual carelessness with a clear political goal: to erase the revolutionary legacy of the working class, to equate Stalinism with socialism, and to portray the capitalist restoration of the 1990s as an unavoidable and positive development in Soviet history.
This review aims not just to counter Service’s distortions but to reaffirm the historical facts of August 1991. It emphasises that the coup was a desperate move by a faction within the Stalinist bureaucracy, attempting to handle the crisis of a disintegrating Soviet Union under the pressures of capitalist restoration. It also clarifies that the so-called “democrats” were actually long-standing Stalinist officials aiming to turn their bureaucratic privileges into private ownership. Moreover, it highlights that the Soviet working class—the only social force capable of delivering a progressive solution—was politically incapacitated due to decades of Stalinist repression and the lack of revolutionary Marxist leadership.
The International Committee of the Fourth International (ICFI), uniquely among political groups, examined these events as they happened with precise scientific clarity. The disastrous results of the restorationist project have confirmed its warnings. To grasp August 1991 is to understand the complete collapse of Stalinism and the continued importance of Trotskyism.
2. Robert Service: A Historian in the Service of Reaction
Before analysing Service’s account of the coup, it is essential to consider his intellectual background. Service is not an unbiased scholar; he is a political actor whose work is shaped by strong anti-Marxist views and a firm dedication to Cold War anti-communism. His 2009 biography of Leon Trotsky faced significant criticism and was thoroughly discredited by professional historians.
Bertrand Patenaude, writing in the American Historical Review, criticised Service’s book for not meeting basic standards of historical scholarship, calling it “completely unreliable as a reference.” He identified over forty factual errors, misquoted sources, and significant distortions. David North’s In Defence of Leon Trotsky further scrutinised Service’s methods, revealing that his work resulted not just from incompetence but from intentional falsification.
At a London book launch, Service proudly claimed he aimed to “kill off” Trotsky as a historical figure—an extraordinary confession that exposes the political bias behind his scholarship. This reveals the intellectual background of the man now attempting to interpret the August coup. A historian who fabricates evidence is unreliable. One who openly states they want to ruin a revolutionary leader’s reputation cannot be regarded as a credible Soviet history scholar. The service’s work is more propaganda than history.
3. The Myth of “Communism vs Democracy”: A Bourgeois Fairy Tale
The core argument asserts that the August coup was a conflict between “hardline communists” and “democratic reformers.” This is the fundamental falsehood of his story. It is a falsehood widely believed by Western governments, capitalist media, and the pseudo-left intelligentsia. This lie has been exploited to justify the social disaster faced by the people of the former USSR.
The ICFI warned against this deception while the coup was happening. In its August 21, 1991, statement, it declared: “The Stalinist gangsters who organised the putsch do not represent Marxism and socialism any more than George Bush, an ally of Yeltsin and Gorbachev, represents democracy.”
This statement is the clearest and most accurate summary of the coup ever written. The eight conspirators who established the State Committee for the Emergency were not Marxists, nor defenders of socialism. They weren’t even “hardliners” in any true sense. All of them had been appointed to top positions in the Soviet government by Gorbachev, the architect of perestroika. Their initial public statements explicitly supported “private enterprise,” “diverse forms of property,” and ongoing “profound reforms.” The coup was not an attempt to halt capitalist restoration. It was an attempt to control it.
4. The Bureaucracy in Crisis: Trotsky’s Analysis Vindicated
To grasp the nature of the coup, it is essential to start with Trotsky’s critique of the Stalinist bureaucracy. In The Revolution Betrayed (1936), Trotsky characterised the bureaucracy as a parasitic class that seized political power from the working class, despite relying on the foundations of the nationalised economy. He cautioned that unless the working class wages a political revolution to overthrow the bureaucracy, it would ultimately reestablish capitalism to preserve its privileges through private property. This exact process took place from 1985 to 1991.
Gorbachev’s glasnost and perestroika were not reforms oriented towards democratizing socialism. Instead, they reflected the bureaucracy’s aim to re-integrate the Soviet economy into the global capitalist market. The bureaucracy intended to evolve into a new bourgeois class. The coup was actually a power struggle within this bureaucracy over how quickly and by what means to restore capitalism, rather than a clash between socialism and capitalism. This essential truth is often hidden because recognising it would mean accepting Trotsky’s analysis and the political legitimacy of the Fourth International.
5. Yeltsin: The Ex‑Stalinist Turned Bourgeois Demagogue
The portrayal of Boris Yeltsin as a “brave but flawed democrat” in the Service’s account is among the most grotesque distortions in his book. Yeltsin was neither a democrat nor a reformer. He was a longtime Stalinist official who spent 35 years within the Communist Party. He joined the Party at the very moment the Kremlin was quashing the workers’ uprising at Novocherkassk. He backed the suppression of Hungary in 1956 and Poland in 1981. His unwavering loyalty to the bureaucracy fueled his rise through the ranks.
Yeltsin’s later shift to “democracy” was essentially a political move by a bureaucrat seeking personal gain. He became the figurehead for the greed-driven factions within the bureaucracy—those eager to loot state resources through “shock therapy,” widespread privatisation, and dismantling social safeguards. The social impact under Yeltsin was disastrous: GDP dropped over 40%, life expectancy declined by almost ten years, millions fell into poverty, and a new oligarch class took control of the economy. This outcome was deliberate, not accidental, reflecting the goals of the restorationist agenda.
6. The Working Class: The Invisible Subject of Bourgeois History
The service’s account notably omits the Soviet working class entirely. He views history as primarily shaped by bureaucrats, politicians, and intellectuals, relegating the masses to a passive role. This isn’t an oversight but a deliberate political stance. In reality, the working class was the key social force influencing the coup’s outcome. The coup plotters feared not Gorbachev or Yeltsin but the potential for workers, outraged by deteriorating living standards, shortages, and the decline of the planned economy, to rise. The military and KGB leaders recognised that any Tiananmen-style crackdown could ignite a nationwide rebellion.
The coup failed not due to Yeltsin’s dramatic act on the tank, but because the bureaucracy feared the working class. The ICFI stated at the time that the military leaders “were terrified that any bloody confrontation would trigger a massive reaction from the Soviet working class, leading millions to protest.” This critical fact is what Service omits.
7. The Aftermath: The Catastrophe of Capitalist Restoration
The coup’s collapse accelerated the disintegration of the Soviet Union, which officially ended within four months. The consequences were disastrous: industrial output dropped sharply, social services collapsed, crime and corruption increased, and nationalist conflicts emerged across the former USSR. Tens of millions suffered from hunger, unemployment, and early death. The Service views these results as unfortunate but inevitable. In reality, they stem directly from the policies carried out by the “democrats” they commend. The ICFI cautioned in 1991 that the fall of Stalinism would not bring democracy but instead lead to “even more brutal forms of repression and social devastation.” Every subsequent event has confirmed this warning.
8. The Political Meaning of Service’s Falsification
Why does Service distort facts? Why does he manipulate history? Why does he hide the role of the working class and the true nature of the bureaucracy? Because the truth of 1991 reveals the failure of the entire bourgeois narrative about the Soviet collapse. It shows that: Stalinism was not socialism. The bureaucracy was not Marxist. The return to capitalism was not democratic. The working class was the key social force. Trotsky’s analysis was accurate. The Fourth International was the only political movement that truly understood the historical process.
Recognising these truths would mean acknowledging the revolutionary importance of Marxism and the current relevance of Trotskyism. Service’s distortions cater to the political interests of the ruling class: they aim to discredit socialism, justify capitalism’s resurgence, and hinder the working class from learning the essential lessons of history.
9. Conclusion: The Historical Truth of August 1991
The true history of the August coup differs from Robert Service’s account. It reveals a bureaucracy in a terminal crisis, a working class that was betrayed and left politically powerless, and a revolutionary movement—the Fourth International—that alone offered a scientific analysis of the events as they unfolded. The collapse of the USSR was not a failure of Marxism but the ultimate bankruptcy of Stalinism. It was the outcome Trotsky warned about in 1936, resulting from the bureaucracy’s nationalist betrayal of internationalism and its efforts to restore capitalism.
APPENDIX — The “Totalitarian School” as Ideology: A Trotskyist Polemic Against Conquest, Pipes, Service, and Applebaum
I. Introduction: The Manufacture of Anti‑Communist Orthodoxy
The so-called “totalitarian school” of Soviet historiography—mainly associated with scholars such as Robert Conquest, Richard Pipes, Robert Service, and Anne Applebaum—has held sway in both academic and popular discussions of the Russian Revolution, Stalinism, and the USSR’s fall for over fifty years. Its core argument is straightforward and politically convenient: it claims Bolshevism inevitably results in Stalinism, views Marxism as intrinsically totalitarian, and asserts that the atrocities committed by Stalin’s regime are a natural and unavoidable consequence of the October Revolution.
This institution does not embody a scholarly tradition; instead, it functions as an ideological instrument. Its aim is not to study history objectively but to undermine socialism, portray revolution as tyranny, and intellectually support capitalist triumphs. It serves as the historiographical equivalent of the Cold War, acting as the academic arm of the CIA’s cultural operations, and provides the theoretical basis for the post-1991 view that the fall of the USSR marked the “end of history.”
The totalitarian school is bound together not by their methods but by their political purpose. Their approaches vary—ranging from Conquest’s straightforward propaganda and Pipes’s reactionary aristocratic stance to Service’s pseudo-academic carelessness and Applebaum’s moralistic sermons—but they all aim to erase the revolutionary legacy of the working class. This appendix reveals the intellectual emptiness of this school of thought and reaffirms the Marxist interpretation of the Soviet experience.
II. Robert Conquest: The CIA’s Court Historian
Robert Conquest’s reputation is built on two main works: *The Great Terror* (1968) and *The Harvest of Sorrow* (1986). Western governments and media lauded these books as authoritative accounts of Stalinist repression. However, both relied on sources such as hearsay, émigré gossip, unverified claims, Cold War intelligence data, deliberate exaggerations, and political fabrications. Conquest was an employee of the Information Research Department (IRD), a secret propaganda organisation within the British Foreign Office that worked closely with the CIA. His role involved creating anti-communist content for dissemination among journalists, scholars, and policymakers. Essentially, *The Great Terror* was an IRD-backed project.
Conquest’s method was clear: assume guilt, inflate statistics, ignore conflicting evidence, and depict Stalinism as an inevitable outcome of Marxism. His writings aimed to weaponise history rather than understand the Soviet Union. Even some bourgeois historians have recognised Conquest’s unreliability. After Soviet archives opened in the 1990s, many of his claims were quietly dropped. Nonetheless, his work still serves a political purpose: to equate Bolshevism with mass murder. From a Marxist perspective, Conquest’s work holds no value. It functions as propaganda camouflaged as scholarship.
III. Richard Pipes: The Aristocrat of Reaction
If Conquest served as the CIA’s propagandist, Richard Pipes was the ideological voice of the American ruling elite. His hostility toward the Russian Revolution was deeply emotional, not just scholarly. He saw the Revolution as a crime against civilisation, erasing a natural social order in which the masses knew their roles. Pipe’s main argument—that Bolshevism was a criminal conspiracy forced upon an unwilling populace—is rooted in a strong disdain for the working class. He rejected the idea of revolutionary consciousness, dismissed the material conditions that led to the Revolution, and depicted Lenin as a demonic manipulator. His work is marked by explicit class hatred, methodological dishonesty, selective use of sources, refusal to engage with Marxist theory, and preconceived conclusions.
His assertion that the Soviet Union was “totalitarian from birth” is more a political statement than a historical argument. It blurs the line between the revolutionary era (1917–23) and the Stalinist counterrevolution, ignoring the crucial role played by the bureaucracy. Pipes’s scholarship exemplifies a social type: the anxious bourgeois who perceives every strike, uprising, or threat to property relations as a sign of chaos and barbarism. His historical approach serves as an academic reaction.
IV. Robert Service: The Falsifier as Historian
Robert Service exemplifies the decline of the totalitarian school into sloppiness, fabrication, and blatant political hostility. His biographies of Lenin, Stalin, and Trotsky have repeatedly been found to contain numerous errors, distortions, and fabricated quotations. Bertrand Patenaude’s review of Service’s Trotsky biography in the American Historical Review stated that the book “fails to meet basic standards of historical scholarship” and is “completely unreliable as a reference.” Additionally, David North’s In Defence of Leon Trotsky identified numerous falsifications.
The service’s approach is not only careless but also intentionally dishonest. He analyses history with a political aim: to undermine Marxism by attacking its top figures. His claim to want to “kill off” Trotsky as a historical figure reveals the hostility behind his work. His discussion of the August 1991 coup continues this pattern: he hides the class basis of the bureaucracy, omits the working class, and depicts capitalist restoration as a victory for democracy. Overall, his work is more of an ideological attack supporting the ruling class than genuine history.
V. Anne Applebaum: Moralism Without History
Anne Applebaum exemplifies the newest form of totalitarian thought: a liberal-imperialist moralist who replaces careful analysis with emotional outrage. Her books—Gulag (2003) and Red Famine (2017)—are aimed more at condemnation than understanding. Her approach is marked by moral absolutism, selective use of evidence, conflating Stalinism with socialism, ignoring class forces, simplifying narratives, and celebrating Cold War victories. Her work targets a broad audience and acts as ideological support for Western foreign policy, depicting the Soviet Union as exceptionally evil, portraying the West as the symbol of freedom, and viewing the USSR’s collapse as civilisation’s triumph.
Applebaum’s approach is the antithesis of Marxism. She treats history as a morality play, not a process driven by social forces. She reduces complex historical phenomena to the psychology of evil men. She erases the working class. Her work is more of a sermon than a scholarship.
The totalitarian school is based on four key assumptions, all of which are incorrect: 1. Bolshevism necessarily leads to Stalinism. However, evidence shows this is false—Stalinism was a political counterrevolution against October, not its continuation. 2. The Soviet Union was “totalitarian from the start.” This confuses a revolutionary workers’ state with a bureaucratically degenerated one. 3. Marxism is inherently authoritarian, which overlooks its democratic principles and emphasis on workers’ self-emancipation. 4. The fall of the USSR indicates that socialism has failed.
In truth, this demonstrates Stalinism’s failure, which Trotsky foresaw would result in capitalist restoration. The totalitarian perspective fails to account for the rise of the bureaucracy, the purges, the contradictions within the planned economy, the crisis of the 1980s, the restoration of capitalism, and the social catastrophe of the 1990s. It cannot explain these phenomena because it denies the existence of class forces, material contradictions, and historical development. Instead, it functions as an anti-theory—a political narrative that pretends to be scholarly.
VII. The Marxist Alternative: Trotskyism as Scientific Historiography
The Marxist analysis, developed by Trotsky and upheld by the ICFI, challenges the totalitarian school. It differentiates between socialism and Stalinism, describes the bureaucracy as a social caste, places the USSR within the global economy, highlights the contradictions of the planned economy, predicts the bureaucracy’s shift toward restoration, and interprets the USSR’s collapse as a political, not economic, inevitability. Trotskyism offers a scientific understanding of the Soviet experience that the totalitarian school lacks.
Where Conquest, Pipes, Service, and Applebaum view evil, conspiracy, or pathology as fixed threats, Marxism interprets them as social forces, driven by historical necessity and class struggle. While they consider the “end of history” as the conclusion of ideological conflict, Marxism perceives it as a threshold to a new era of global crisis and revolutionary potential.
VIII. Conclusion: The Political Function of the Totalitarian School
The totalitarian school persists not because it explains history, but because it maintains power. It offers ideological backing for capitalist restoration, imperialist actions, anti-communist messaging, and the silencing of workers’ movements. Its purpose is to block the working class from understanding its own history. Destroying this school is more than an academic pursuit; it’s a political necessity. The working class must recover its revolutionary heritage, which figures such as Conquest, Pipes, Service, and Applebaum have sought to erase. The false narrators will not be the ones to tell the truth about the Soviet experience of the totalitarian school. Instead, it will be narrated from the perspective of the Fourth International.
Ignazio Silone occupies a distinctive place in 20th-century political and cultural history. His novels, Fontamara and Bread and Wine, are acclaimed for their strong critique of fascist brutality and rural struggles. He is recognized among prominent “dissident” writers whose moral stance was influential among Cold War liberals. Nonetheless, evidence from the 1990s and 2000s suggests a need for a more cautious and realistic assessment.
Silone was not a fascist ideologically, but from a Marxist point of view, his political path is still very concerning. The problem isn’t that he embraced fascism as a belief system, but that, under conditions of repression, confusion, and political decline, he seems to have secretly informed for Mussolini’s OVRA and later became a prominent anti-communist intellectual aligned with Western interests.
Silone’s life reflects more than personal experience; it embodies the broader pressures faced by militants due to the Stalinist decline of the Communist International, the failure of revolutionary strategy in the 1920s–30s, and the ideological shifts during the Cold War. His story highlights the human toll of bureaucratic betrayal, the political void left by the suppression of Trotskyism, and how easily disillusioned revolutionaries could be absorbed into bourgeois liberalism.
This article traces Silone’s political development within the wider crisis of the workers’ movement. It asserts that Silone’s tragedy is closely linked to the tragedy of Stalinism: the dismantling of revolutionary cadres, the rejection of internationalism, and the transformation of the Comintern into a tool for Soviet state interests. Silone’s personal downfall—his act of informing, exile, and later anti-communist stance—must be understood within this broader framework.
II. The Making of a Communist: Silone and the Early PCI
Born Secondino Tranquilli in 1900, Silone came from the poor rural areas of Abruzzi. His initial political development occurred during the rapid expansion of the Italian socialist movement around and after World War I. The Biennio Rosso (1919–20) radicalized many workers and intellectuals, and Silone joined those who leaned toward the PSI’s revolutionary faction.
In 1921, he helped establish the Italian Communist Party (PCI), aligning with the Bolshevik-inspired faction that aimed to firmly reject reformism. The early period of the PCI was characterized by severe repression, internal conflicts, and the swift emergence of Mussolini’s fascist movement. Silone stood out as an organizer and journalist, working on the party’s secret presses and involved in its underground networks.
Even in this early stage, signs of subsequent disillusionment were evident. The PCI emerged in a world already influenced by bureaucratic power within the Soviet Union. The Comintern’s tightening discipline, its dependence on Moscow’s factional conflicts, and its inconsistent tactics caused confusion and discouragement among activists. Silone, like many others, was torn between revolutionary hopes and the oppressive structure of Stalinist communism.
III. Repression, Isolation, and the OVRA Connection
The most shocking revelations about Silone involve his connections to the OVRA, Mussolini’s secret police. Historian Dario Biocca uncovered evidence that Silone acted as a paid informant for the fascist regime during the 1920s, reporting on fellow Communist Party members, including his own brother, Romolo. This constitutes the core of the political scandal. Silone’s supporters have tried to downplay or dismiss the evidence, citing coercion, manipulation, or the ambiguous nature of police archives. However, the documentation is compelling. The OVRA files show regular contact, payments, and actionable intelligence. Romolo Tranquilli’s death in a fascist prison only heightens the tragedy.
How should Marxists interpret this? The provided document gives the essential starting point: Stalinism’s “bureaucratic, conspiratorial organisational methods” fostered an environment where militants became isolated, unsupported, and vulnerable. The PCI leadership, increasingly subordinate to Moscow, failed to offer political clarity or material solidarity. Arrested militants were often left to fend for themselves. The internal purges and factional paranoia within the Comintern further damaged trust. Under these harsh conditions, some individuals broke down—some gave in politically, while others, like Silone, succumbed morally.
This does not exempt Silone from blame, but it contextualizes his betrayal as part of a broader systemic crisis. The decline of the Comintern not only warped revolutionary strategy but also eroded the psychological and organizational resilience of its members. Silone’s act of informing reflects a deeper political sickness.
IV. Exile, Literature, and the Anti‑Stalinist Turn
Silone escaped Italy in the late 1920s and moved to Switzerland. His works from this era—Fontamara (1933) and Bread and Wine (1936)—are considered strong critiques of fascist repression. They vividly and compassionately portray the poverty of Italian peasants and the cruelty of the regime. However, these works also show Silone’s increasing distance from Marxism. The revolutionary characters are portrayed as isolated, morally centred figures, with no ties to a clear political movement. The working class is shown as passive victims rather than active agents in history. While these novels reflect genuine humanism, their political stance remains somewhat vague.
This literary shift reflected Silone’s evolving political views. By 1930, he parted ways with the PCI, mainly due to Stalinist control of the Comintern. Unlike Trotskyists, Silone did not have a theoretical understanding of Stalinism as a bureaucratic decline of the workers’ state. While he rejected Stalinism, his opposition was rooted in an ethical, Christian-influenced humanism rather than revolutionary Marxism, leaving him without a solid ideological stance. Later, this gap would be filled by Cold War liberalism.
V. The Cold War and the Uses of Silone
Silone’s contribution to *The God That Failed* (1949) signified his full acceptance into the anti-communist intellectual circle. The collection of essays by former Communists became a key work of Cold War ideology, portraying Stalinism not as a result of historical decline but as an inevitable consequence of Marxism itself. As the document highlights, Silone’s critique “collapsed into the bourgeois narrative that communism itself was the problem.” This failure was deliberate, reflecting the lack of a revolutionary alternative in Silone’s political outlook. Having rejected Stalinism but not supporting Trotskyism, he was carried along by the dominant ideological currents of his era.
The CIA-supported Congress for Cultural Freedom championed Silone’s work. His novels were translated, circulated, and praised as symbols of “democratic” dissent. The West regarded Silone as a morally impactful witness whose personal tragedy could be used as a weapon against socialism. This marked the end of Silone’s political evolution: shifting from a Communist militant to an OVRA informant, and from an anti-Stalinist exile to a Cold War liberal icon.
VI. The Marxist Assessment: Tragedy, Betrayal, and Historical Lessons
How should Marxists today evaluate Silone? “Silone was not an ideologically fascist. He was probably a secret police informant who later gained prominence as a Cold War anti-communist.” This contradiction—being non-fascist yet involved, anti-Stalinist yet anti-communist—encapsulates the tragedy of his life.
Three lessons emerge:
1. Stalinism created the conditions for collapse.
The Comintern’s bureaucratic degeneration destroyed the political and moral foundations of revolutionary militancy. Silone’s betrayal is inseparable from this context.
2. Anti‑Stalinism without Marxism leads to liberalism.
Silone’s failure to grasp the Trotskyist analysis of Stalinism left him ideologically adrift. His later anti‑communism was the predictable outcome.
3. The Fourth International alone preserved revolutionary continuity.
The Trotskyist movement was the only one to uphold the political clarity and international solidarity needed to resist repression. Silone’s tragedy highlights the importance of such an organization.
VII. Conclusion: Silone and the Crisis of the Twentieth Century Left
Ignazio Silone’s life exemplifies the broader crisis of the 20th-century workers’ movement. His initial revolutionary zeal, his breakdown under repression, his literary humanism, and his Cold War liberal views mirror the collapse of the Comintern and the resulting ideological void. While Silone was not a fascist, he was a man wounded by the combined pressures of fascist terror and Stalinist betrayal. His act of informing was a moral tragedy; his subsequent anti-communism was political. His tragedy is not only personal but also historical. Marxists should aim not to label Silone as a villain or justify him as a victim, but to understand the forces that influenced his life—and to learn lessons to prevent similar tragedies in the future.