Review of Fareed Zakaria’s Age of Revolutions: Liberal Illusions in an Epoch of Capitalist Breakdown

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Disappeared Children, Coercive Adoptions, and the Continuity of Counterrevolution in Guatemala

 

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 Counter Revolution of 1776: Gerald Horne’s Historical Falsification and the Politics of Racialist Reaction

 

Introduction: The Manufacture of a Counter‑History

Gerald Horne’s The Counter-Revolution of 1776 has been praised in some academic and media circles as offering a radical reinterpretation of the American Revolution. However, it exemplifies what Trotsky termed “the Stalin school of falsification”—a tactic in which the past is not thoroughly examined but is instead reshaped to align with current political agendas. The book’s main argument—that the American Revolution was a pro-slavery counter-movement opposing an abolitionist British Empire—is not only false but also a politically driven reversal of history, achieved through repeated misquoting, misattribution, and the intentional omission of evidence that contradicts its narrative.

Horne's thesis does not hold up under scrutiny; the book is largely a work of fiction. This article aims to do two things: first, to reveal the falsehoods underlying Horne’s narrative; second, to place his approach within the wider context of racialist political ideology in the U.S., as exemplified by the 1619 Project and its associated pseudo-left supporters.

The Historical Record and the Fabrication of a Pro‑Slavery Revolution

The American Revolution arose from intensified conflicts between the colonies and Britain over issues like taxation, sovereignty, and representation. This is supported by extensive historical evidence, including the Stamp Act of 1765, the Townshend Acts of 1767, the Boston Tea Party of 1773, the Intolerable Acts of 1774, and the ongoing debate over Parliament’s authority. Notably, none of the key revolutionary texts refers to the Somerset case or British abolitionism.

This is a decisive point. The Somerset ruling of 1772—Horne’s key case—was a narrow legal decision about the status of an enslaved man brought to England. It did not end slavery across the empire, did not spark an abolitionist movement (which was non-existent then), and was not part of the political focus of the revolutionary generation. By 1772, the revolutionary crisis was already in progress.

Horne’s thesis asks the reader to accept that the colonists fought for independence to safeguard slavery from a British Empire that wouldn't abolish it for another sixty-one years (1833). This is not a historical fact but a conspiracy theory cloaked in academic language.

The Method of Falsification: Inversion, Omission, and Fabrication

Horne's book contains a series of egregious distortions that reveal not error but method.

1. Inversion of Sources

Horne quotes a Virginia Gazette letter as if it defended slavery. In reality, the full text is a “blistering attack on the absurdity of enslaving people based on skin colour.” This is not a mistake. It is an inversion of meaning.

2. Misattribution

Horne attributes a Loyalist pamphlet to the revolutionary William Henry Drayton, claiming Drayton was “apoplectic” about Somerset. An anonymous Loyalist wrote the words. This transforms a pro‑British argument into an anti‑British one.

3. Erasure of Abolitionists

Benjamin Franklin—who published anti‑slavery essays, collaborated with Granville Sharp, and later led the Pennsylvania Abolition Society—is portrayed as a pro‑slavery figure. This requires suppressing Franklin’s own writings, including his attack on slavery in the London Chronicle.

4. Factual Incompetence

The Gaspee Affair is mangled beyond recognition. Horne claims the Gaspee was a slave ship arriving from Africa. It was a customs enforcement vessel that had been patrolling American waters for years.

5. Suppression of Contradictory Evidence

Rhode Island is depicted as a slaveholding stronghold rebelling to protect slavery. Horne omits that Rhode Island banned slave importation in 1774 and passed gradual emancipation in 1784—explicitly linking these measures to revolutionary ideals.

These are not just occasional mistakes but part of a consistent pattern: each distortion steers the narrative toward a preset conclusion. This isn’t genuine scholarship; it amounts to propaganda.

The Political Function of Horne’s Narrative

The political context of Horne’s book involves his association with the Communist Party USA, which has ties to Stalinism. Stalinist ideology has a history of distorting facts, not as a personal critique of Horne but as an analysis of his approach. Historically, Stalinism has consistently manipulated history—up from the Moscow Trials to the reinterpretation of the October Revolution—to serve political objectives. Horne’s methodology reflects this pattern.

The modern importance of The Counter-Revolution of 1776 is not about Stalinism itself but about how it aligns with the racialist politics of the American pseudo-left. The book’s positive reviews from outlets like the New York Times, The Guardian, Democracy Now!, and academic journals show its usefulness for a political agenda that prioritises race over class as the key lens for analysing history.

The 1619 Project, citing Horne as a primary source, clearly exemplifies this pattern. It's claimed that the Revolution was fought to preserve slavery, which is directly drawn from Horne’s biased interpretations. The intention isn't to enhance historical knowledge but to deepen racial divisions within the working class. They serve as tools to split the working class along racial lines—replacing race with class as the main driver of history.

The Marxist Interpretation: Revolution, Class, and Historical Development

Countering this misconception, the Marxist perspective views the American Revolution as a bourgeois-democratic uprising. Marx and Engels recognised that the Revolution overthrew feudal property systems in North America, increased the political power of the emerging bourgeoisie, was closely linked to Enlightenment ideas, and inspired both the French Revolution and other democratic movements.

Instead of dismissing the contradiction of slavery, this view considers it as part of broader social relations. The Revolution spurred forces that challenged slavery's foundations: Northern states abolished slavery during and after the war, anti-slavery sentiments grew rapidly in the 1780s and 1790s, and the Revolution laid the groundwork for the Civil War, called the “Second American Revolution,” which ended chattel slavery. This perspective is dialectical, not moralistic. It emphasises that revolutions are complex processes driven by class forces, not racial essences.

V. Horne’s Methodology: A Marxist Critique

Horne’s methodology is the antithesis of Marxism. It is characterised by:

1. Idealism

Horne treats race as the primary motor of history, independent of material conditions. This is a retreat into pre‑Marxist, quasi‑theological thinking.

2. Presentism

He projects contemporary racial politics backwards into the 18th century, reading modern anxieties into historical actors who did not share them.

3. Source Manipulation

Rather than deriving conclusions from evidence, he reshapes evidence to fit conclusions. This is the hallmark of Stalinist historiography.

4. Rejection of Class Analysis

The class struggle—central to any Marxist account—is absent. The Revolution becomes a morality play of white oppressors and Black victims, not a conflict between colonial bourgeois forces and imperial authority.

5. Political Instrumentalism

History is shaped to serve current racialist politics rather than seeking genuine understanding. Its purpose is to mobilise resentment. That’s why the pseudo-left favours Horne’s work: it offers a superficially radical appearance while backing a reactionary agenda.

Conclusion: The Necessity of Historical Truth for Working‑Class Unity

The falsification of the American Revolution is not an academic dispute. It is a political intervention aimed at disarming the working class by severing it from the progressive traditions of the past. The Revolution was not a counter‑revolution. It was a decisive step in the global struggle against feudalism and absolutism. This struggle created the conditions for the later abolition of slavery and the emergence of the modern working class.

 

Victor Serge’s Life and Death of Leon Trotsky: A Political Weapon Against Marxism and the Historical Truth

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.

 

A Marxist Critique of Rachel Hammersley’s Republicanism: An Introduction

 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.

 

Audi’s Appropriation of Bob Dylan: The Commodification of Rebellion in the Age of Corporate Fraud

Audi’s new RS 5 advertisement, drawing inspiration from Bob Dylan’s electrified 1965 Newport performance, exemplifies the commodification of cultural rebellion in late capitalism. What once represented a radical artistic act is now simply a marketing tool for a luxury hybrid car made by a company involved in mass layoffs, emissions scandals, and undercutting wages worldwide. The ad does not celebrate rebellion; instead, it signifies its end.

A Masterclass in Late‑Capitalist Cultural Theft

Audi’s RS 5 advertisement is more than just cynical; it serves as a prime example. It precisely illustrates how capitalist marketing consumes cultural history, removing its rebellious edge, and turns it into a luxury lifestyle statement for the wealthy. “The systematic plundering of every genuinely rebellious cultural moment and its repackaging as a sales pitch for luxury commodities.”

The agency’s choice to base the commercial on Bob Dylan’s 1965 electric performance at Newport isn’t just a creative move; it’s a confession. It exposes how much the advertising industry relies on the symbolic remnants of past rebellions to give life to products that lack any genuine social significance.

What Dylan’s Electric Turn Actually Represented

When Dylan took the stage in Newport wielding a Fender Stratocaster, he was not just changing instruments. He was boldly rejecting the stifling moralism of the folk community, which wanted to keep him as a mere “protest singer”—a symbol of their own complacent radicalism. “Dylan was breaking with the suffocating constraints of a folk establishment… It was, in its own way, a genuine act of artistic self-emancipation.”

The booing that ensued was not directed at electricity itself but at the idea of autonomy. Dylan rejected being owned by a movement that had become a rigid cultural bureaucracy. His act was a break—an assertion of artistic freedom against institutional limitations. Audi’s use of this moment is especially offensive because the company embodies the opposite idea: subordinating human creativity, work, and culture to the profit motives of global capital.

The Auto Industry’s Record: Fraud, Layoffs, and the Assault on Workers

Audi is not a neutral cultural entity. As a subsidiary of Volkswagen Group, it was involved in an emissions-cheating scandal that was one of the most widespread corporate frauds of the 21st century. The company has repeatedly cut jobs to stay profitable amid growing global competition. “The 9,500 jobs Audi eliminated in Germany in 2019, along with another 7,500 planned for 2025, reflect the harsh reality behind the polished image of ‘breaking tradition.'

The “tradition” being challenged is not about artistic conformity but the social contract with the working class. The hybrid RS 5 is made by workers facing ongoing attacks on their wages and conditions, even as the company promotes the vehicle as a symbol of personal freedom.

The Mechanics of Co‑optation: How Capitalism Consumes Rebellion

The ad illustrates a key principle of capitalist cultural production: it cannot create genuine rebellion, only turn it into a commodity. Each oppositional movement—such as the 1960s counterculture, punk, and hip-hop—goes through the same process of neutralization. “Every authentic artistic rebellion... is eventually stripped of its social significance, sanitized, and repackaged for consumers as a lifestyle accessory.”

Audi isn't just selling a car; it's offering a feeling—the thrill of breaking rules without facing social consequences. The buyer is encouraged to see themselves as Dylan at Newport—yet stay embedded in luxury culture. This represents rebellion without danger, dissent without repercussions, and history without effort.

The Fraudulent “Evolution” of the Hybrid RS 5

The ad’s theme of “embracing evolution” with a hybrid powertrain cleverly reverses expectations. The move to hybrid and electric vehicles in luxury isn’t a daring step toward the future but rather a reluctant response to regulations and market forces. “It’s the auto industry being pushed, reluctantly and noisily, to make only the minimal changes needed to keep selling cars.”

The RS 5 hybrid continues to be what every RS Audi has historically been: a high-performance vehicle aimed at the wealthy. Its eco-friendly image is primarily a marketing strategy, not an indication of social change.

Dylan’s Own Trajectory: From Rebellion to Corporate Asset

Dylan himself embodies the final irony of the advertisement. The artist who once penned “Masters of War” sold his entire songwriting catalogue to Universal Music Group in 2020 for approximately $300 million. As one observes his journey from Newport ’65 to this major deal, it exemplifies how capitalism often absorbs and neutralizes acts of artistic rebellion. Dylan’s past work, originally a tool against the establishment, now functions as an asset for the world’s largest music corporation. The Audi advertisement represents the ultimate stage of this transformation: turning rebellion into a commercial commodity.

The Socialist Alternative: What Real Evolution Would Look Like

The working class does not require a luxury hybrid that relies on the superficial allure of a long-gone rebellion. Instead, it needs control over the means of production, including the auto industry. This involves a socialist transformation of society—producing goods based on social needs rather than private profit.

Genuine evolution involves workers democratically controlling auto plants, reorganizing production based on human needs, and freeing culture from a profit-driven system that stifles it. Audi’s ad does not celebrate rebellion but instead commodifies it. Our current challenge is not to buy into the illusion of freedom but to strive for actual freedom.

 

Postscript: On the Murder of Soviet Philosophy and the Meaning of Yakhot’s Intervention

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.

 

Trump’s World Cup and the Liberal Falsification of 1936

  “ A Low, Dishonest Decade”.

1939 ­English poet WH Auden

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.

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[1]  Trump's World Cup is like Hitler's Olympics - we have a major lesson to learn'    www.mirror.co.uk/news/brian-reade-trumps-world-cup-37285848

Sean McMeekin: Court Historian of the Bourgeoisie and Falsifier of the Revolutionary Tradition

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.

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.

 

A Literary Monument to Historical Evasion: Antonio Scurati’s M: Il figlio del secolo and the Cultural Rehabilitation of Italian Fascism

 

Introduction: A Novel for a Reactionary Epoch

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.

 

Mexico’s Azteca Stadium Protests Expose the Social Fault Lines Beneath the 2026 World Cup

 “Inside the stadium: a carefully curated spectacle of nationalism and corporate branding… Outside the stadium: the real Mexico.”

12 June 2026

The intense scenes outside Mexico City’s Estadio Azteca on the opening day of the 2026 World Cup exposed the fragile illusion of 'unity” and “celebration” promoted by FIFA, the Mexican government, and corporate sponsors, who dominate every aspect of the event. The incident at Gate Eight—where striking CNTE teachers and the families of Mexico’s disappeared forced past heavily armed security—was not an isolated event but a reflection of deep social tensions that have long been overlooked. “The scenes outside the Azteca Stadium are the eruption of social contradictions that the 2026 World Cup’s corporate and governmental organizers have tried desperately to suppress.” The ruling class has failed.

A confrontation long in the making

For weeks, the CNTE teachers’ union warned they would confront the World Cup with their fight for wages, pensions, and democratic rights. Their slogan—sin solución, no rodará el balón (“without a solution, the ball will not roll”)—was a clear political statement, not just a rhetorical flourish. As some of the most militant members of the Mexican working class, the teachers have declined to accept the austerity measures imposed by the Sheinbaum government.

Their arrival at the Azteca was accompanied by another persistent force: the mothers of Mexico’s disappeared. For over a decade, these women have taken on the work the government refuses to do—searching for their children, uncovering mass graves, and challenging the military and political powers behind the disappearances. “These mothers have become their own investigators… because the same state that took their children is now deploying riot police with shields to defend FIFA’s branding.”

The symbolism is unmistakable. The Mexican government, which has long blocked justice for the 43 Ayotzinapa students missing since 2014, now deploys its repressive forces to protect FIFA's commercial interests.

Inside and outside the stadium: two irreconcilable realities

The Azteca Stadium became a physical and political border separating two incompatible worlds.

Inside:

• $2,500 tickets sold through “dynamic pricing”
• corporate hospitality suites
• FIFA executives projecting $11 billion in revenue
• a nationalist spectacle choreographed for global television

Outside:

• teachers fighting for pensions
• mothers searching for their disappeared children
• riot police with shields and batons
• the working class confronting the violence of the state

The World Cup, far from uniting the nation, has exposed the depth of social inequality and the brutality required to maintain it.

The international dimension: a tournament under the shadow of repression

The 2026 World Cup marks the first time the United States, Mexico, and Canada co-host it. Rather than displaying “North American unity,” the event has exposed the common authoritarian direction of all three governments. In the U.S., ICE agents are present at every venue, transforming stadiums into militarised zones. Migrant workers—who often work in kitchens, cleaning, and security—face risks of detention and deportation, despite their essential roles in making the tournament happen.

In Mexico, the Sheinbaum administration has responded to the CNTE strike with the same disdain as previous governments. The report states that the government “refuses even to meet with striking teachers while dispatching security forces against them.” Canada, on the other hand, has increased intelligence sharing and border enforcement in collaboration with US agencies, ensuring the tournament is protected within a continental security framework. This repression is deliberate; it is the necessary response to a tournament whose profits rely on silencing working-class opposition.

Historical parallels: Argentina 1978 and the politics of spectacle

The comparison to the 1978 World Cup under the Argentine military regime is accurate. Back then, as now, the ruling class aimed to use football to conceal a legitimacy crisis. The stadium served as a venue where the government showcased unity while secretly repressing dissent beyond public view. "The 1978 comparison Uco made in his article is fitting." Although Mexico is not a military dictatorship, it shares the same fundamental pattern: employing sport as a political tool to hide societal issues.

The World Cup as a battlefield of class interests

The events at Azteca Stadium highlight a key reality of the 2026 World Cup: it’s not about worldwide unity, but a contest between class forces. The workers outside—teachers, precarious labourers, mothers of the disappeared—align their interests with those inside, including stadium cooks threatened by ICE, cleaners working long shifts, and migrant workers who built the infrastructure under risky conditions.

The nationalist spectacle aims to divide them, but the class struggle brings them together. As the document states, “The game will continue, but the social contradictions erupting at Gate Eight will not be settled on a football field.”

The political task ahead

The protests at the Azteca serve as a warning: the ruling class will deploy every tool—police repression, nationalist propaganda, and corporate media—to protect their profits and silence dissent. However, the working class, both in Mexico and globally, is beginning to resist. The goal is to turn these spontaneous outbursts of anger into a deliberate political movement, grounded in a socialist program and focused on international worker solidarity. The World Cup has exposed a vital truth: the fight for justice for the disappeared, fair wages, democratic rights, and an end to state violence is intrinsically linked to the broader struggle against capitalism that creates these injustices. The protest at Gate Eight marks only the start.