“We have no urban proletariat,
that is undoubtedly true; but, then, we also have no
bourgeoisie; ... our
workers will have to fight only against the political power — the
power of capital
is with us still only in embryo. And you, sir, are undoubtedly aware
that the fight against
the former is much easier than against the latter.”
The revolution that modern socialism strives to achieve
is, briefly, the victory of the proletariat over the bourgeoisie and the
establishment of a new organisation of society by the destruction of all
class distinctions. This requires not only a proletariat to carry out this
revolution, but also a bourgeoisie in whose hands the social productive
forces have developed so far that they permit the final destruction of
class distinctions. Among savages and semi-savages there likewise often
exist no class distinctions, and every people has passed through such a
state. It could not occur to us to re-establish this state, for the simple
reason that class distinctions necessarily emerge from it as the social
productive forces develop. Only at a certain level of development of these
social productive forces, even a very high level for our modern conditions,
does it become possible to raise production to such an extent that the
abolition of class distinctions can constitute real progress, can be lasting
without bringing about stagnation or even decline in the mode of social
production. But the productive forces have reached this level of development
only in the hands of the bourgeoisie. The bourgeoisie, therefore, in this
respect also is just as necessary a precondition for the socialist revolution
as is the proletariat itself. Hence a man who says that this revolution
can be more easily carried out in a country where, although there
is no proletariat, there is no bourgeoisie either,
only proves that he has still to learn the ABC of socialism.
The Russian workers — and these workers are, as
Mr. Tkachov himself says, “tillers of the soil and, as such, not proletarians
but owners” — have, therefore, an easier task, because they do not have
to fight against the power of capital, but “only against the political
power”, against the Russian state. And this state:
1. for temporary enterprises, after
the completion of which they dissolve;
2. for the members of one and
the same trade, for instance, porters, etc.;
3. for permanent enterprises,
industrial in the proper sense of the word.
They are established by a contract signed by all
the members. Now, if these members cannot bring together the necessary
capital, as very often happens, such as in the case of cheeseries and fisheries
(for nets, boats, etc.), the artel falls prey to the usurer, who advances
the amount lacking at a high interest rate, and thereafter pockets the
greater part of the income from the work. Still more shamefully exploited,
however, are the artels that hire themselves in a body to an employer as
wage-labourers. They direct their industrial activity themselves and thus
save the capitalist the cost of supervision. The latter lets to the members
huts to live in and advances them the means of subsistence, which in turn
gives rise to the most disgraceful truck system. Such is the case with
the lumbermen and tar distillers in the Archangel gubernia,
and in many trades in Siberia, etc. (Cf. Flerovsky, “The Condition of the
Working Class in Russia”, St. Petersburg, 1869).[Marx
read Flerovsky's book in 1870. In a letter to the members of the Russian
Section of the International of March 24, 1870, he expressed his appreciation
of the book. Later Engels too read the book; -Note by Publishers].
Here, then, the artel serves to facilitate considerably
the exploitation of the wage-worker by the capitalist. On the other hand,
there are also artels which themselves employ wage-workers, who are not
members of the association.
It is thus seen that the artel is a co-operative
society that has arisen spontaneously and is, therefore, still very undeveloped,
and as such neither exclusively Russian, nor even Slavic. Such societies
are formed wherever there is a need for them. For instance, in Switzerland
among the dairy farmers and in England among the fishermen, where they
even assume a great variety of forms. The Silesian navvies (Germans, not
Poles), who built so many German railways in the forties, were organised
in fully fledged artels. True, the predominance of this form in Russia
proves the existence in the Russian people of a strong impulse to associate,
but is far from proving their ability to jump, with the aid of this impulse,
from the artel straight into the socialist order of society. For that,
it is necessary above all that the artel itself should
be capable of development, that it shed its primitive form, in which, as
we saw, it serves the workers less than it does capital, and rise at least
to the level of the West European co-operative societies. But if we are
to believe Mr. Tkachov for once (which, after all that has preceded, is
certainly more than risky), this is by no means the case. On the contrary,
he assures us with a pride highly indicative of his standpoint:
“As regards the co-operative
and credit associations on the German” (!) “model,
recently artificially
transplanted to Russia, these have met with complete indifference
on the part of the
majority of our workers and have been a failure almost everywhere.”
The modern co-operative society has at least proved
that it can run large-scale industry profitably on its own account (spinning
and weaving in Lancashire). The artel is so far not only incapable of doing
this; it must of necessity even be destroyed by big industry if it does
not develop further.
The communal property of the Russian peasants was
discovered in 1845 by the Prussian Government Councillor Haxthausen and
trumpeted to the world as something absolutely wonderful, although Haxthausen
could still have found survivals enough of it in his Westphalian homeland
and, as a government official, it was even part of his duty to know them
thoroughly. It was from Haxthausen that Herzen, himself a Russian landowner,
first learned that his peasants owned the land in common, and he made use
of the fact to describe the Russian peasants as the true vehicles of socialism,
as born communists, in contrast to the workers of the aging, decayed
European West, who would first have to go through the ordeal of acquiring
socialism artificially. From Herzen this knowledge came to Bakunin, and
from Bakunin to Mr. Tkachov. Let us listen to the latter:
The severest blow to communal ownership
was dealt again by the redemption of the corvée. The greater
and better part of the land was allotted to the nobility; for the peasant
there remained scarcely enough, often not enough, to live on. In addition,
the forests were given to the nobles; the wood for fuel, implements and
building, which the peasant formerly might fetch there for nothing, he
now has to buy. Thus, the peasant has nothing now but his house and the
bare land, without means to cultivate it and, on average, without enough
land to support him and his family from one harvest to the next. Under
such conditions and under the pressure of taxes and usurers, communal ownership
of the land is no longer a blessing; it becomes a fetter. The peasants
often run away from it, with or without their families, to earn their living
as migratory labourers, and leave their land behind them.
[On the position of the peasants
compare, inter alia, the offical report of the government commission on
agricultural production (1873), and further, Skaldin (In the Backwoods
and in the Capital) St Petersburg 1870; the lattter publication by a liberal
conservative].
It is clear that communal ownership
in Russia is long past its period of florescence and, to all appearances,
is moving towards its disintegration. Nevertheless, the possibility undeniably
exists of raising this form of society to a higher one, if it should last
until the circumstances are ripe for that, and if it shows itself capable
of developing in such manner that the peasants no longer cultivate
the land separately, but collectively; [In Poland, particularly in the
Grodno gubernia, where the nobility for the most part was ruined by the
insurrection of 1863, the peasants now frequently buy or rent estates from
the nobles and cultivate them unpartitioned and on their collective
account. And these peasants have not had communal ownership
for centuries and are not Great Russians, but Poles, Lithuanians and Byelorussians]
of raising it to this higher form without it being necessary for the Russian
peasants to go through the intermediate stage of bourgeois small holdings.
This, however, can only happen if, before the complete break-up of communal
ownership, a proletarian revolution is successfully carried out in Western
Europe, creating for the Russian peasant the preconditions requisite for
such a transition, particularly the material things he needs, if only to
carry through the revolution, necessarily connected therewith, of his whole
agricultural system. It is, therefore, sheer
bounce for Mr. Tkachov to say that the Russian peasants, although “owners”,
are “nearer to socialism” than the propertyless workers of Western Europe.
Quite the opposite. If anything can still save Russian communal ownership
and give it a chance of growing into a new, really viable form, it is a
proletarian revolution in Western Europe.
Mr. Tkachov treats the political
revolution just as lightly as he does the economic one. The Russian people,
he relates, “protests incessantly” against its enslavement, now in the
form of “religious sects ... refusal to pay taxes ... robber bands” (the
German workers will be glad to know that, accordingly, Schinderhannes [the
nickname of Johann Buckler, a notorious German robber-publisher] is
the father of German Social-Democracy) “... incendiarism ... revolts ...
and hence the Russian people may be termed an instinctive revolutionist”.
Therefore, Mr. Tkachov is convinced that “it is only necessary to
evoke an outburst in a number of places at the same time of all the accumulated
bitterness and discontent, which ... is always seething in the breast of
our people”. Then “the union of the revolutionary forces will come about
of itself, and the fight ... must end favourably for the people’s cause.
Practical necessity, the instinct of self-preservation”, will then achieve,
quite of themselves, “a firm and indissoluble alliance among the protesting
village communities”.
It is impossible to conceive of a revolution on
easier and more pleasant terms. One starts shooting, at three or four places
simultaneously, and the “instinctive revolutionise”, “practical necessity”
and the “instinct of self-preservation” do the rest “of themselves”. Being
so dead easy, it is simply incomprehensible why the revolution has not
been carried out long ago, the people liberated and Russia transformed
into the model socialist country.
Actually, matters are quite different.
The Russian people, this instinctive revolutionise, has, true enough, made
numerous isolated peasant revolts against the nobility and against
individual officials, but never against the tsar, except when a
false tsar put himself at its head and claimed the throne. The last
great peasant rising, [Engels is referring
to the Peasant War (1773-75) headed by Yemelyan Pugachov]
under Catherine II, was only possible because Yemelyan Pugachov claimed
to be her husband, Peter III, who allegedly had not been murdered by his
wife, but dethroned and clapped in prison, and had now escaped. The tsar
is, on the contrary, the earthly god of the Russian peasant: Bog vysok
Car daljok — God is on high and the tsar far away, is his cry in hour
of need. There is no doubt that the mass of the peasant population, especially
since the redemption of the corvée, has been reduced to a condition
that increasingly forces on it a fight also against the government and
the tsar; but Mr. Tkachov will have to try to sell his fairy-tale of the
“instinctive revolutionise” elsewhere.
Then again, even if the mass of the Russian peasants
were ever so instinctively revolutionary, even if we imagined that revolutions
could be made to order, just as one makes a piece of flowered calico or
a teakettle — even then I ask, is it permissible for anyone over twelve
years of age to imagine the course of a revolution in such an utterly childish
manner as is the case here? And remember, further, that this was written
after the first revolution made on this Bakuninist model [Engels
is referring to the uprising which was launched in July 1873 by petty-bourgeois
republicans and the Bakuninists in Andalusia and Valencia., it undermined
the position of the left-republican government of Francisco Pi y Margall
which came into office in 1873 as a result of the declaration of the first
republic in Spain during the revolution of 1868-74 - See Collected works:
The bakuninists at Work; Volume 23; pp.585-95]— the Spanish
one of 1873 — had so brilliantly failed. There, too, they let loose at
several places simultaneously. There, too, it was calculated that practical
necessity and the instinct of self-preservation would, of themselves,
bring about a firm and indissoluble alliance between the protesting communities.
And what happened? Every village community, every town defended only itself;
there was no question of mutual assistance and, with only 3,000 men, Pavia
overcame one town after another in a fortnight and put an end to the entire
anarchist glory (cf. my Bakuninists at Work, where this is described in
detail).
Russia undoubtedly is on the eve of a revolution.
Her financial affairs are in extreme disorder. Taxes cannot be screwed
any higher, the interest on old state loans is paid by means of new loans,
and every new loan meets with greater difficulties; money can now be raised
only on the pretext of building railways! The administration, corrupt from
top to bottom as of old, the officials living more from theft, bribery
and extortion than on their salaries. The entire agricultural production
— by far the most essential for Russia — completely dislocated by the redemption
settlement of 1861; the big landowners, without sufficient labour power;
the peasants without sufficient land, oppressed by taxation and sucked
dry by usurers; agricultural production declining by the year. The whole
held together with great difficulty and only
outwardly by an oriental despotism the arbitrariness of which we in the
West simply cannot imagine; a despotism that, from day to day, not only
comes into more glaring contradiction with the views of the enlightened
classes and, in particular, with those of the rapidly developing bourgeoisie
of the capital, but, in the person of its present bearer, has lost its
head, one day making concessions to liberalism and the next, frightened,
cancelling them again and thus bringing itself more and more into disrepute.
With all that, a growing recognition among the enlightened strata of the
nation concentrated in the capital that this position is untenable, that
a evolution is impending, and the illusion that it will be possible to
guide this revolution along a smooth, constitutional channel. Here
all the conditions of a revolution are combined, of a revolution that,
started by the upper classes of the capital, perhaps even by the government
itself, must be rapidly carried further, beyond the first constitutional
phase, by the peasants; of a revolution that will be of the greatest importance
for the whole of Europe, if only because it will destroy at one blow the
last, so far intact, reserve of the entire European reaction. This revolution
is surely approaching. Only two events could still delay it: a successful
war against Turkey or Austria, for which money and firm
alliances are necessary, or — a premature attempt at insurrection,
which would drive the possessing classes back into the arms of the government.