Today’s interest in Nostradamus, astrology, and mystical prophecies isn’t just innocent fascination. It reflects a deep intellectual decline in bourgeois society. Trying to explain Hitler’s rise with 16th-century cryptic verses isn’t just foolish; it’s a reactionary act. The document notes, “The framing of this question… is itself an expression of the irrationalism that pervades bourgeois culture in decay.” This irrationalism isn’t marginal; it acts as an ideological shield for capitalism during its final crisis.

The ruling elite, troubled by the disastrous consequences of their system, seeks comfort through mystification. The petty-bourgeois classes, bewildered by social upheaval, rely on supernatural explanations. Meanwhile, the academic community, having moved away from the Enlightenment’s emphasis on reason, now promotes the idea that history is driven by fate, myth, or “dark forces,” rather than by class struggle. Hitler’s rise was not predicted by Nostradamus nor written in the stars; it resulted from specific, identifiable, and preventable political betrayals by the leaders of the German workers’ movement.

The Material Foundations of Fascism

The rise of Nazism can only be understood through the Marxist lens of historical materialism. In the early 1930s, Germany was Europe’s most developed industrial economy, yet it was constrained by the Versailles Treaty and the global capitalist crisis. The productive forces had surpassed the limits of the nation-state. German imperialism aimed for expansion, but before fighting abroad, it needed to suppress the working class domestically.

The Nazis were not a supernatural anomaly. As Trotsky described, they were “a party of national despair,” gaining backing from the devastated petty bourgeoisie—“the small artisans and shopkeepers of the cities, petty officials, employees, technical staff, the intelligentsia, and impoverished peasants.” These groups, shattered by the crisis, were whipped into a rage of hatred toward the proletariat, whom they blamed for their social downfall.

However, fascism in power was not merely the rule of these devastated classes. As Trotsky aptly states, “fascism in power is least of all the rule of the petty bourgeoisie. On the contrary, it is the most ruthless dictatorship of monopoly capital.” German industrialists, bankers, and military leaders saw Hitler as the tool they needed to break down workers’ organizations and gear up for imperialist conflict. The Düsseldorf meeting of January 1932, where leading industrialists pledged their support to Hitler, was not a mystical convergence of destiny. It was a class decision.

The Working Class Wanted No Part of Fascism

Contrary to the myth—propagated by both fascists and liberals—that Hitler rose to power on widespread popular support, the German working class largely opposed him. The document clearly states: “The working class did not want fascism.” In the November 1932 elections, the combined votes for the Social Democrats and Communists exceeded those for the Nazis. Furthermore, in the factories, the Nazis were held in contempt.

The decisive factor was not the will of the masses but the treachery of their leaders.

The Stalinist and Social Democratic Betrayals

The Stalinist leadership of the Communist Party, following Moscow’s orders, embraced the harmful theory of “social fascism,” labeling the Social Democrats as the primary enemy. This strategy—one of the worst crimes in workers’ movement history—blocked the creation of a united front for the working class when such unity could have defeated the Nazis. Meanwhile, Social Democratic leaders failed to mobilize their workers, fearing revolution. They surrendered to the bourgeois state, disarming the working class and enabling Hitler to become chancellor in January 1933.

Trotsky’s warnings proved to be prophetic in the true sense: they were based on scientific analysis. He stated that a Nazi victory would lead to “the extermination of the best of the German proletariat, the destruction of its organizations, and the eradication of its self-belief and hope for the future.” He also predicted that Italian fascism would seem “pale” in comparison. Every prediction was confirmed.

Mysticism as a Weapon Against the Working Class

The shift towards Nostradamus and astrology is not impartial. It fulfills specific ideological roles: depicting fascism as unavoidable rather than stoppable; excusing the responsibilities of the ruling class and leaderships like reformist and Stalinist; replacing class analysis with fatalism; and discouraging the working class by implying that supernatural forces shape history. The pursuit of prophecies and astrological justifications for Hitler is not only unserious but also politically reactionary. This type of irrationalism echoes the postwar pessimism of the Frankfurt School, which blamed “the Enlightenment” for fascism, thus diverting attention from capitalism and the failures of the workers’ movement.

The Lessons for Today

The worldwide rise of fascist movements, increasing irrationalism, and the decline of bourgeois democracy are not just predictions but stem from capitalism’s fundamental contradictions. These include economic crises, imperialist competition, and the ruling class’s failure to resolve these issues democratically. The focus shouldn’t be on deciphering old astrological texts, but on cultivating the revolutionary leadership that Germany lacked in 1933.

Osip Mandelstam’s fate epitomises the Stalinist bureaucracy’s suppression of the revolutionary intelligentsia. His life and death unveil, with striking clarity, the fundamental conflict between true artistic independence and the parasitic ruling class that seized political power from the working class. His destruction was not an isolated incident or a tragic accident of a lone poet; it was a deliberate consequence of a political counter-revolution that aimed to silence any voice resisting its ideological dominance.

A new book highlights that “Mandelstam’s fate symbolises the broader destruction of the Soviet artistic and literary avant-garde by Stalinist counter-revolution. The bureaucracy, which seized political power from the working class, could not accept true artistic independence.” This is more than just a biographical note; it serves as a political critique.[1]

The Revolution and the Poet: A Brief Convergence

Mandelstam was not a Bolshevik and never claimed to be one. However, he had something that the bureaucracy feared even more than political allegiance: a spiritual independence that could not be assimilated, a dedication to truth, form, and historical awareness. His early Acmeist emphasis on “clarity, concreteness, and craftsmanship—’ the word as such'” served as a subtle critique of the growing Stalinist aesthetic, which favoured bureaucratic bombast and ideological kitsch.

The October Revolution’s heroic phase fostered an extraordinary surge in artistic experimentation. Mandelstam’s nuanced yet insightful reaction to 1917—as illustrated by his mention of “The Twilight of Freedom”—mirrored the conflicted stance of an artist who recognised the revolution’s global importance while preserving his intellectual independence.

However, the outcome of the revolution remained uncertain. The Civil War, economic devastation, and the Soviet state’s isolation fostered the development of a bureaucratic system whose priorities were essentially at odds with those of the working class and the revolutionary intelligentsia.

Osip Mandelstam and Leon Trotsky: Two Fates in the Grip of the Stalinist Counter‑Revolution

Osip Mandelstam and Leon Trotsky’s lives intersect not just through a brief personal encounter or biographical detail but through the broader historical narrative of the Russian Revolution and its subsequent betrayal. They exemplify two of the most brilliant figures of that revolutionary era—one in politics, the other in poetry—whose downfall under Stalinism exposes the bureaucratic counter-revolution that seized power from the working class.

Mandelstam’s fate exemplifies how the Stalinist counter-revolution destroyed the Soviet artistic and literary avant-garde. He was killed because his poetry represented a spiritual independence that the totalitarian regime could not tolerate. These words highlight not only the poet’s personal tragedy but also the larger historical catastrophe that affected Trotsky and the entire October generation.

Two Figures Formed by the Revolution, Not by Stalinism

Trotsky and Mandelstam belonged to different worlds—one the strategist of the Red Army, the other a poet of Acmeist clarity—but both were products of the same historical rupture: the collapse of the old order and the birth of a new one.

As previously noted, Mandelstam was neither a Bolshevik nor a reactionary. His early works focused on “clarity, concreteness, and craftsmanship,” demonstrating a profound cultural seriousness that resonated with the revolutionary spirit. He viewed the October Revolution as a pivotal world-historical event, though there was some ambivalence. Trotsky, in Literature and Revolution, correctly labelled this type of thinker as a “fellow-traveller,” attracted to the revolution by its cultural and historical significance, even without full political allegiance.

Trotsky’s stance towards these writers was never sectarian. He argued that the workers’ state should safeguard the independence of the intelligentsia rather than subordinate it to bureaucratic control. This was driven not by generosity but by a historical need: the revolution required the finest achievements of human culture, not their suppression.

The Crimea Episode: Trotsky Intervenes to Save Mandelstam

The closest connection between the two men happened in 1920 during the Civil War. After Mandelstam was captured by Wrangel’s counter-revolutionary troops in Crimea, he was later detained again—this time by fervent Cheka agents following the Red Army’s reoccupation of the peninsula. Nadezhda Joffe reports that Trotsky personally stepped in to help secure Mandelstam’s release.

This incident is more than a minor anecdote; it highlights the stark contrast between the revolutionary leadership of 1917–23 and the later bureaucratic system. Trotsky recognised that the revolution’s role was to protect culture, not destroy it. Mandelstam, after this event, “revered” Trotsky, seeing him as a protector of civilisation against both White and Red barbarism. This was the final moment when the revolution still retained its original essence.

The Bureaucracy Rises: Mandelstam and Trotsky Become Targets

By the late 1920s, the Stalinist bureaucracy had solidified its control. The elimination of the Left Opposition, enforced collectivisation, and the cult of Stalin were more than mere political acts—they were cultural. A regime built on falsification and coercion could not tolerate independent thought in any area.  Mandelstam was a poet who could not be silenced and could not be co-opted, making him an enemy of the bureaucracy. Similarly, Trotsky became the main political threat to Stalin’s power. The elimination of both figures was not accidental; it was structurally driven by the needs of the bureaucratic caste.

Mandelstam’s “Stalin Epigram”: The Poet Speaks the Truth, Trotsky Theorised

In 1933, Mandelstam wrote the “Stalin Epigram,” depicting the dictator as “the Kremlin mountaineer” with “his cockroach moustache” and “fingers fat as grubs.” The poem served as a poetic parallel to Trotsky’s political critique: a sharp, impactful expose of the bureaucratic despotism that had strangled the revolution.

Trotsky had previously warned that Stalinism was not the continuation of October but its negation. Mandelstam conveyed this same truth through poetry, the only language he could use. Both recognised that the bureaucracy was a destructive, parasitic caste feeding on the revolution’s corpse.

The outcomes were similar. Mandelstam was arrested in 1934, exiled, rearrested in 1938, and died in a transit camp. Trotsky was expelled, exiled, slandered, tried in the Moscow Trials, and ultimately assassinated in 1940. Two different paths driven by a common historical logic.

The Shared Fate: Victims of the Same Counter‑Revolution

Mandelstam and Trotsky were victims of the same historical force: the Stalinist counter-revolution. Trotsky’s assassination in Mexico and Mandelstam’s death in a transit camp near Vladivostok are not isolated tragedies but manifestations of the same process— the destruction of the generation that held the revolutionary and cultural hopes of 1917. Mandelstam was ‘murdered because his poetry embodied a spiritual independence that the totalitarian regime found intolerable,’ which also applies to Trotsky, whose political independence made him a mortal enemy of the bureaucracy. Both represented the living conscience of the revolution and had to be eliminated for the bureaucracy’s survival.

The Bureaucracy Consolidates Power: The Artist Becomes the Enemy

By the late 1920s and early 1930s, the Stalinist bureaucracy had fully expropriated the proletariat politically. The suppression of the Left Opposition, forced collectivization, and the cult of the infallible Leader were not just political acts—they were cultural transformations. A regime that wielded falsification, coercion, and fear could not allow any area of life to be free from its influence. Mandelstam “was a poet who could not be silenced or co-opted.” This is exactly why he had to be eliminated. The Stalinist state demanded obedience over art, flattery over truth, and complete submission of the creative mind to the ruling caste’s needs, rather than independence. Mandelstam’s refusal to conform—his rejection of the grotesque spectacle of bureaucratic self-promotion—made him unacceptable.

The “Stalin Epigram”: A Poet’s Truth Against a Regime of Lies

The “Stalin Epigram” was more than just a poem; it was a daring act of political defiance that displayed remarkable clarity and bravery. The poem vividly depicts Stalin as “the Kremlin mountaineer,” with descriptions like “his cockroach moustache” and “fingers fat as grubs.” These lines were not mere satire—they directly challenged the personality cult that underpinned the bureaucracy’s ideology. In a society where even a careless remark could result in arrest, Mandelstam’s choice to recite this poem, even to a small audience, was an act of revolutionary integrity. It asserted the artist’s right to speak truthfully in a regime built on lies.

The bureaucracy’s response was as expected. His 1934 arrest, exile, 1938 detention, and death at a transit camp near Vladivostok were not due to “excesses” or “mistakes.” Instead, they reflected a regime that could only endure by eradicating all independent voices.

Nadezhda Mandelstam and the Underground Survival of Truth

Dutli’s book rightly emphasises Nadezhda Mandelstam’s remarkable role, describing how she “memorised his unpublished poetry to preserve it – one of the great acts of literary devotion in history.” Her effort was not just personal but also political. In a society where the state aimed to erase its victims’ memories, she became a living testament of resistance. Her memoirs, Hope Against Hope and Hope Abandoned, stand as some of the most powerful condemnations of Stalinism ever written. They reveal the moral and psychological destruction caused by a regime that demands complete obedience and punishes even the faintest hint of dissent.

V. The Historical Meaning of Mandelstam’s Murder

Mandelstam died in 1938, at the peak of the Great Terror, a period when the bureaucracy eradicated the generation that had pioneered the revolution. His death reflected the same political agenda that eliminated the Old Bolsheviks, the Red Army leaders, the Marxist intellectuals, and countless workers and peasants.

Mandelstam “was murdered because his poetry embodied a spiritual independence that the totalitarian regime found intolerable.” While accurate, this statement should be understood within its full historical background. His “spiritual independence” was especially unacceptable because it signified the continued existence of the revolutionary spirit—the essence of truth, clarity, and human dignity—resisting a regime that had betrayed the revolution and maintained control through terror.

The Legacy: Mandelstam Against the Bureaucratic Lie

Today, Mandelstam’s poetry continues to stand as a symbol of artistic achievement and political rebellion. His work endured because individuals—his wife and later scholars like Ralph Dutli—refused to let bureaucratic attempts to destroy culture succeed. Dutli belongs to the group of “deep literary links across generations,” where later figures dedicate themselves to reviving and sharing voices that the Stalinist regime tried to silence.

Mandelstam’s work enduringly survives as a testament against Stalinism, showing that truth, even when hidden, cannot be completely eliminated. It reveals the failure of the bureaucratic system and highlights the lasting strength of the revolutionary intellectuals.

Mandelstam’s story is more than a tragedy; it serves as a political lesson. It highlights the deep conflict between a creative mind and a repressive bureaucratic regime. It shows that fighting for artistic truth is inherently linked to the fight for political freedom. Additionally, it clearly states that the Stalinist counter-revolution was not a continuation of October but its reversal.

[1] Osip Mandelstam: A Biography By Ralph Dutli (Translated from German by Ben Fowkes) Verso 432pp £25

Fareed Zakaria’s Age of Revolutions: Progress and Backlash from 1600 to the Present Day is a revealing ideological work that reflects the views of the modern bourgeois intelligentsia. Written during the most severe crisis of global capitalism since the 1930s, the book functions more as a political statement than a historical account. It aims to comfort a bewildered ruling class, suggesting that the system’s intensifying contradictions can still be controlled through enlightened technocratic management.

Zakaria’s polished, urbane, and superficially cosmopolitan narrative hinges on a core belief: that capitalism, despite its “excesses,” is the only sustainable social system, and that its occasional crises can be managed by wise elites. The book epitomizes the liberal-imperialist perspective that has long shaped the American establishment, even as the underlying material basis of that worldview crumbles.

The Meaning of Revolution in the Epoch of Capitalist Breakdown

The current political elite, exemplified by figures like Fareed Zakaria, claims we are in an “age of revolutions’ marked by technological, cultural, and political upheavals. However, this recurring narrative in media and academia is a conscious misrepresentation, aiming to hide the true essence of the era: the collapse of capitalism and the return of global socialist revolution as the central issue of the 21st century.

Zakaria’s 2024 book, Age of Revolutions, exemplifies this approach. It simplifies revolution to a sequence of technological advances and policy issues, dismissing large-scale opposition to capitalism as mere irrational “backlash.” This isn’t genuine analysis but ideological distortion. It reflects the perspective of a ruling class that feels the ground changing beneath it and tries to numb public awareness before the next major social upheaval.

Later, we will observe that a Marxist view starts from a different premise: revolutions are not simply psychological responses to “progress,” but are the result of contradictions within capitalism itself. They occur when the advancement of productive forces clashes with existing property relations and state power structures. Unlike other theories, they are propelled not by elites but by the working class, which is the only social force capable of restructuring society based on rationality, democracy, and internationalism.

The meaning of revolution in history lies in the bourgeois revolutions of the 17th and 18th centuries, especially the French Revolution of 1789. These revolutions weren’t driven simply by “ideas” or enlightened elites; rather, they were the inevitable result of a deep contradiction: the growth of capitalist production emerging from the decline of feudal society. For the bourgeoisie to expand the national market, establish modern law, or develop industrial production, they had to dismantle the aristocratic order.

The French Revolution clearly reveals the limitations of Zakaria’s framework. Events like the storming of the Bastille, the end of feudal dues, the radical actions of the sans-culottes, the Jacobin dictatorship, and Napoleon’s rise were not merely setbacks against progress. Instead, they represented class struggle in a society transitioning between modes of production. The Revolution was not carried out according to the wishes of “moderate” elites; it was propelled by the masses, whose material interests pushed them beyond bourgeois constitutional limits. The Terror was not an irrational derailment but a desperate effort by the revolutionary class to defend itself against internal counter-revolution and external invasion.

Zakaria’s narrative fails to explain these aspects because it does not include a concept of class, overlooks the role of the state as a tool of class domination, and ignores that revolutions stem from objective contradictions rather than elite mismanagement.

Revolution Without Class: Zakaria’s Historical Method

Zakaria’s view on “revolution” reveals his core ideological stance. Traditionally, in Marxism, revolution involves a fundamental change in social relations, a transfer of political power between classes, and the overthrow of outdated modes of production. However, Zakaria redefines the term by stripping it of class significance. To him, revolutions are mainly technological, commercial, or administrative changes—like the rise of global trade, digital technology, and market expansion. By grouping events such as the Dutch Revolt, the Glorious Revolution, the Industrial Revolution, and the internet into a single category, he blurs the line between revolutionary rupture and capitalist development.

This is not just an innocent analytical decision; it’s a political strategy. By framing revolution as ongoing innovations within capitalism, Zakaria rules out any possibility of a true revolution against the system. History then appears as a tale of constant progress, wisely guided by elites, with only unlucky moments of ‘backlash’ disrupting it.

The “Progress and Backlash” Mythology

Zakaria’s core interpretive framework—that each phase of progress ultimately provokes a backlash—serves as a liberal morality tale. “Progress” is characterised by expanding markets, globalisation, and liberal institutions. Conversely, ‘backlash’ encompasses resistance or disruption of this process, such as working-class opposition to deindustrialisation, mass protests against austerity, anti-imperialist movements, and even right-wing populist responses.

This schema clearly serves an ideological purpose: it dismisses all forms of mass opposition to capitalism as irrational resentment. The working class protesting plant closures and social issues isn’t defending their material interests; they’re simply reacting with a ‘backlash.’ Likewise, populations resisting imperialist control aren’t engaged in anti-colonial struggles; they are emotionally responding to “progress.’ What Zakaria fails to recognise is that the ‘backlash’ he criticises is actually a consequence of the ‘progress’ he champions.

Zakaria’s framework conceals the basic truth that the social crises over the past fifty years—such as inequality, war, and democratic decline—are not just anomalies but inevitable results of global capitalism.

The Erasure of the Russian Revolution

No liberal perspective on “progress” can accept the Russian Revolution, which remains the most significant challenge to capitalism ever. Unsurprisingly, Zakaria minimises the October Revolution, seeing it as an example of excess rather than a crucial historical milestone. The revolution demonstrated that the working class could seize power, overthrow the bourgeoisie, and establish a new social order, alarming ruling elites across imperialist countries and shaping the entire 20th century. Yet, Zakaria considers it merely a “backlash”—a mass political uprising that got out of elite control. This reflects the Whig view of history in neoliberal guise: history as the gradual improvement of liberal capitalism, with regrettable deviations that must be managed.

The Real Contradiction Zakaria Cannot Resolve.

Zakaria recognises a real contradiction: the conflict between a globalised economy and a political system based on nation-states. However, he fails to see that this contradiction is an intrinsic aspect of capitalism itself. The worldwide integration of production clashes with the national structures of private property and sovereignty. This fundamental contradiction has led to major conflicts such as World Wars I and II, as well as to current trends such as trade wars, militarism, and geopolitical fragmentation.

Zakaria’s suggestion—improving international coordination and enhancing global governance—is unrealistic. The capitalist nation-state system cannot be unified through elite diplomacy alone. It can only be replaced by the international working class, which must act deliberately to reshape the world economy based on socialist principles.

A Book for a Frightened Ruling Class

Ultimately, Age of Revolutions serves more as a political tool for the ruling elite than an in-depth historical analysis. It aims to preserve a faltering system, justify its associated suffering, and weaken the rising efforts of workers. The document explicitly states: “It is an ideological document – a defence of a social order that has lost its historical raison d’être.” Currently, the global situation points to the beginning of a new revolutionary period: the world economy is facing persistent crises marked by stagnation, inflation, and the dominance of parasitic finance capital. Additionally, the nation-state structure is eroding, resulting in trade conflicts, shifting geopolitical alliances, and unprecedented military conflicts since 1945.

Democratic institutions are weakening as ruling classes resort to authoritarian tactics, censorship, and repression. Workers are starting to push back through widespread strikes across Europe and the Americas, as well as uprisings in the Global South. Technological advancements have reached a point where the rational and strategic organisation of the global economy is not only possible but essential to human survival. These are not just minor disruptions to be managed by enlightened elites; they reflect symptoms of a system that has fulfilled its historical role. The true “Age of Revolutions” is upon us.

The ruling class fears the word “revolution” because it senses that the conditions for a new revolutionary wave are maturing. It therefore attempts to redefine the term to mean anything except the transfer of power from one class to another. But the real age of revolutions lies not in the past but in the future. The contradiction between the global character of production and the national character of the capitalist state system cannot be resolved through diplomacy, regulation, or technocratic management.

Zakaria’s book is a symptom of a ruling class that senses its own fragility but cannot conceive of an alternative to its domination. It offers no serious analysis of the crises engulfing the world, only a plea for patience and trust in the very elites who have presided over decades of disaster. Against this liberal fatalism stands the Marxist understanding of history: that the contradictions of capitalism will give rise to revolutionary movements of the working class, and that the future of humanity depends on the conscious struggle for socialism.

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.

Introduction: A Historian for the Age of Reaction

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.