Gender, Class and the English Revolution: A Critique of Ann Hughes’s Gender and the English Revolution

Ann Hughes’s Gender and the English Revolution (Routledge, 2011) transcends being just another entry in the extensive historiography of the mid-seventeenth century. It exemplifies a significant ideological transformation that has influenced universities over the last forty years: replacing class as the primary lens for historical analysis with the more abstract, idealist idea of “gender.” This change did not develop naturally from historical study but is instead linked to specific social changes—most notably, the shift to the right among the affluent middle class and the political decline of the large workers’ movements that once provided a material basis for Marxist theory.

Hughes is a dedicated historian with well-established archival research, which is beyond dispute. The focus of critique is the theoretical approach she uses regarding the English Revolution. Her analysis is based on contemporary feminist historiography, especially the idea — influenced by Joan Scott and her followers — that patriarchy is a transhistorical framework of male dominance that can explain women’s experiences across diverse social contexts. However, this perspective is not just flawed; it is misleading because it replaces specific social relationships with an abstract, overarching category, ignoring the complex social realities that influenced the lives of both men and women in seventeenth-century England.

Against the Gender Turn: Hughes, Scott, and the Eclipse of Class in Early Modern Studies

A troubling trend in early modern scholarship over the past four decades is the gradual disappearance of class from historians' analytical tools. In its place, a new orthodoxy has emerged—placing gender as the primary category, viewing patriarchy as a universal explanation, and prioritising “identity” over the material relations that truly shape society. Ann Hughes’s Gender and the English Revolution exemplifies this trend with its polished approach. Still, it was Joan Scott’s 1986 essay on gender as a “useful category of historical analysis” that served as the theoretical catalyst. Together, these works illustrate a historiographical shift that has significantly hindered our understanding of the English Revolution.

Let us speak plainly. The English Revolution was not a quarrel between men and women. It was a class struggle of world‑historic significance: the first bourgeois revolution, in which the rising capitalist class, supported by plebeian layers and the radicalised soldiery of the New Model Army, broke the political power of feudal absolutism. Women participated in this upheaval — as petitioners, prophets, pamphleteers, and political actors — but they did so as members of classes, not as an abstract gender bloc.

Scott’s intervention prompted historians to view gender as an independent power structure, separate from economic and social relations that shape it. She presents patriarchy as a transhistorical system, detectable across different eras with minimal reference to evolving modes of production. This conceptual shift has been highly influential, not for shedding light on historical realities, but because it suits the ideological interests of a middle-class academic class that has largely disengaged from class politics.

Hughes’s analysis demonstrates how Scott’s framework, when applied to the English Revolution, reduces class to merely “social status.” The material realities of seventeenth-century England—such as property, labour, exploitation, and the decline of feudalism—are overshadowed by a focus on gendered agency. Both Margaret Cavendish and a poor London woman are categorised as “women” within patriarchy; while their vastly different class standings are recognised, they do not influence the analysis. This leads to a history where gender becomes the sole explanation for events, while class is disregarded.

This is more than just an intellectual mistake; it reflects an ideological shift rooted in social change. The gender focus in history aligns with the periods when the organised working class weakened, socialist movements declined, and a privileged academic elite adopted identity politics both as a worldview and a career move. Moving away from class analysis mirrors the political path of this elite, whose interests often diverge from those of the working class, despite claiming to represent "the oppressed.”

The historical evidence reveals the flaws of this method. Women who accompanied the Diggers to St. George’s Hill, filled Parliament’s galleries, petitioned against the Norman Yoke and the tithe, and preached in Baptist and Fifth Monarchist churches were not acting as a unified gender group. Instead, they acted as part of an oppressed class sharing material conditions with their husbands, brothers, and fathers. Their radicalism was driven by the same social forces that inspired the Levellers, the Diggers, and the grassroots unrest within the New Model Army.

Alice Clark, a socialist and Quaker businesswoman in 1919, grasped this concept far better than many scholars of her time. She understood that women’s oppression is deeply intertwined with the class structures shaping society. This vital insight has largely been forgotten in the post-1980s academic landscape, overshadowed by discourse analysis, identity theory, and the expanding use of “gender” as a universal explanation.

The focus today is not to dismiss the significance of studying women’s oppression, but to free that study from the idealism that has overshadowed it. Gender should be viewed as intertwined with class, rather than separate from it. The English Revolution cannot be fully understood through patriarchy alone; it requires a materialist analysis of the class forces involved.

Hughes, Scott, and the broader feminist historiography of recent decades have steered the field into a dead end. It’s time to reconsider—not by following current academic trends, but by returning to a rigorous, class-based analysis that can truly explain the revolutionary upheaval of the seventeenth century.

The English Revolution was primarily a bourgeois revolution rather than a gender conflict. It was a major struggle in which the rising capitalist class, supported by parts of the gentry and driven by the urban poor, yeomanry, and radicalised soldiers of the New Model Army, dismantled the weakening feudal absolutist regime. Women took part in this upheaval as petitioners, preachers, pamphleteers, prophets, and political participants. Still, their involvement must be viewed within the context of the class forces that fueled the revolution.

Hughes’s framework conceals this reality by dividing women’s experiences into categories like “age, marital status, religion, and political allegiance,” overlooking the key factor in seventeenth-century English social life: class. This omission is intentional and central to her argument. Discussing “women” as a single political entity during the English Revolution ignores the vast divide between a propertied aristocrat such as Margaret Cavendish and a poverty-stricken woman begging in London. The aristocrat's concerns — actual and deeply felt — represented a specific class’s grievances, excluded from full participation in political and intellectual spheres. Meanwhile, the impoverished woman faced hunger, war requisitions, disease, and harsh exploitation. To bundle these disparate experiences under “patriarchy” effectively erases class differences from the start.

This erasure follows a clear social logic. The rise of gender-focused historiography aligns with the period when the organized working class weakened, social-democratic parties abandoned their socialist rhetoric, and a middle-class elite—many of whom were once radicals—shifted toward identity politics as a profession and worldview. The academic move away from class analysis reflects this group's political path, whose interests increasingly differ from those of the working class, even as they claim to represent "the oppressed.”

The historical evidence contradicts Hughes’s framework. The women who joined the Diggers on St. George’s Hill, filled Parliament galleries, petitioned against the Norman Yoke and the tithe, and preached in Baptist and Fifth Monarchist churches were primarily acting as members of an oppressed class. They shared the same material conditions with their husbands, brothers, and fathers. Their political radicalism was driven by social forces that also gave rise to the Levellers, the Diggers, and the grassroots movements within the New Model Army. Alice Clark, writing in 1919 as a socialist and Quaker businesswoman, recognized this more clearly than many modern scholars: women’s oppression is inseparable from the class relations shaping society.

None of this denies the importance of examining how women’s oppression was shaped by patriarchal law and tradition. However, such analysis must be grounded in a materialist perspective of seventeenth-century English society. Without considering class, gender becomes merely an ideological concept that conceals more than it uncovers.

Hughes’s book is valuable for its extensive archival material. However, its main argument — that gender, not class, drove the revolutionary upheaval of the mid-seventeenth century — is problematic. This view does not reflect the true dynamics of the English Revolution but instead aligns with the ideological preferences of a modern academic scene that favors identity-based frameworks over class analysis. To truly understand the English Revolution, a historical perspective must dismiss this approach and re-embrace the materialist foundations essential for comprehending the period.

Sources and Bibliography

Primary and Seventeenth‑Century Sources

• Cavendish, Margaret. The Blazing World and Other Writings. Edited editions vary.
• Chidley, Katherine. The Justification of the Independent Churches (1641).
• Clark, Alice. Working Life of Women in the Seventeenth Century. London: Routledge, 1919.
• The Leveller Petitions (1646–1649). In: Wolfe, Don M. (ed.). Leveller Manifestoes of the Puritan Revolution.
• Winstanley, Gerrard. The Law of Freedom (1652).
• The Putney Debates (1647). In: Clarke, Peter & Lamont, William (eds.). The Putney Debates.

Ann Hughes and Early Modern Gender Historiography

• Hughes, Ann. Gender and the English Revolution. London: Routledge, 2011.
• Hughes, Ann. The Causes of the English Civil War. London: Palgrave, 1998.
• Hughes, Ann. Gangraena and the Struggle for the English Revolution. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004.
• Hughes, Ann. “Gender and Politics in the English Revolution.” History Compass 7 (2009): 1290–1301.

Joan Scott and the Post‑1980s Gender Turn

• Scott, Joan W. “Gender: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis.” American Historical Review 91, no. 5 (1986): 1053–1075.
• Scott, Joan W. Gender and the Politics of History. New York: Columbia University Press, 1988.
• Scott, Joan W. Only Paradoxes to Offer: French Feminists and the Rights of Man. Harvard University Press, 1996.
• Butler, Judith. Gender Trouble. New York: Routledge, 1990.
• Fraser, Nancy. Justice Interruptus: Critical Reflections on the “Postsocialist” Condition. Routledge, 1997.
• Hemmings, Clare. Why Stories Matter: The Political Grammar of Feminist Theory. Duke University Press, 2011.

Materialist, Marxist, and Class‑Centred Historiography

• Hill, Christopher. The World Turned Upside Down: Radical Ideas During the English Revolution. London: Penguin, 1972.
• Hill, Christopher. The Century of Revolution. London: Routledge, 1961.
• Hill, Christopher. The Experience of Defeat. London: Penguin, 1984.
• Manning, Brian. The English People and the English Revolution. London: Bookmarks, 1991.
• Manning, Brian. Revolution and Counter‑Revolution in England, Ireland and Scotland, 1658–1660. London: Bookmarks, 2003.
• Wood, Ellen Meiksins. The Origin of Capitalism. London: Verso, 1999.
• Wood, Ellen Meiksins. Liberty and Property. London: Verso, 2012.
• Thompson, E.P. The Making of the English Working Class. London: Gollancz, 1963.
• Morton, A.L. A People’s History of England. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1938.

Historiography, Identity Politics, and the Academy Since the 1980s

• Anderson, Perry. In the Tracks of Historical Materialism. London: Verso, 1983.
• Anderson, Perry. The Origins of Postmodernity. London: Verso, 1998.
• Callinicos, Alex. Against Postmodernism. Cambridge: Polity, 1989.
• Eagleton, Terry. The Illusions of Postmodernism. Oxford: Blackwell, 1996.
• Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.
• Lasch, Christopher. The Revolt of the Elites. New York: Norton, 1995.
• Bourdieu, Pierre. Homo Academicus. Stanford University Press, 1988.
• Collini, Stefan. What Are Universities For? London: Penguin, 2012.

Feminist Social History with Class Emphasis (Counter‑Tradition)

• Federici, Silvia. Caliban and the Witch. New York: Autonomedia, 2004.
• Rowbotham, Sheila. Hidden from History: 300 Years of Women’s Oppression and the Fight Against It. London: Pluto Press, 1973.
• Hartmann, Heidi. “The Unhappy Marriage of Marxism and Feminism.” Capital & Class 8 (1979): 1–33.
• Barrett, Michèle. Women’s Oppression Today. London: Verso, 1980.

Useful Collections and Reference Works

• Cust, Richard & Hughes, Ann (eds.). Conflict in Early Stuart England. London: Longman, 1989.
• Reay, Barry. Radical Religion in the English Revolution. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985.
• Sharpe, Kevin. The Personal Rule of Charles I. Yale University Press, 1992.
• Foster, Henry. The Politics of the New Model Army. Manchester University Press, 2020.
• Holstun, James. Ehud’s Dagger: Class Struggle in the English Revolution. London: Verso, 2000.

 

A Short Q&A with Historian Catherine Fletcher

Catherine Fletcher latest book is called Our Man in Rome is set in the six-year period of Henry VIII’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon. It's the story of Gregorio Casali, Henry VIII’s ambassador in Rome from 1525 to 1533, but also the first book-length account of the diplomatic intrigues behind the divorce for several decades.

Q. What made you tackle an already crowded field of historical study of the Tudor's especially Henry viii? My interest was originally focused on Renaissance Italy and the way today’s diplomatic system grew up there. I started looking at Henry VIII’s ‘divorce’ from Catherine of Aragon as a case-study of how monarchs negotiated in Rome, and realised that the Italian side of the story really hadn’t been told before in any detail. I found so much fascinating material that I thought it would be worth writing up.

Q How would you described your historiographical style. Who were your mainly influenced as a younger historian/writer.
?

Writing The Divorce of Henry VIII I was influenced by microhistories that take one small example – in my case the ambassador in Rome – and use it to tell a bigger story. Carlo Ginzburg’s The Cheese and the Worms and Natalie Zemon Davis’s The Return of Martin Guerre are a couple of the classics. Microhistories tend to focus on people lower down the social scale, but I don’t see why they can’t be used to look at the experience of elite figures like ambassadors too. I also had Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana at the back of my mind (my book was first published as Our Man in Rome). That’s a great book about diplomatic duplicity – and makes an important point for historians that you can never be quite sure that envoys’ letters are telling the truth.

Q What advice would you give to an upcoming historian.

First, I’d say go and explore the archives. There’s a huge quantity of documentation out there – in local record offices, family holdings, and the like – that’s never been properly sorted through. Find a story that interests you and follow it through. And second, I’d say that it’s well worth taking the time to learn languages other than your own. Being able to read material in other languages can give you a very different perspective on historical issues.

Q How do you view the development of history blogs and other internet based historical resources.

History blogs are a great way for historians to discuss work in an informal way – and to find out what’s going on in the world of history. I wish I had more time to read them! They can make for much wider interaction between members of the public and academic historians than would otherwise be possible. The internet has also allowed the creation of some great digital databases of original source material. The Medici Archive Project in Florence has put thousands of letters online, and the Old Bailey Online site is a brilliant resource for anyone researching English legal and social history. My only concern is that we may now see a bias towards research on those themes that have good online resources at the expense of areas which don’t.

Q What are you working on now.

I’m trying to finish an academic book about the development of diplomacy in Renaissance Rome. After that, my plan is to write another book based in Renaissance Italy, and I’m working through the options for that now. There are so many good stories to tell about the great dynasties: the Borgias and the Medici, for example. I’m trying to make up my mind which one to write first!

  

Leveller Women and the English Revolution

Introduction: The Problem of Visibility

The historiography of the English Revolution has long reflected a paradox. While the period is seen as a crucial point in the development of modern political awareness—such as republicanism, constitutionalism, and democratic activism—women involved in these struggles have often been marginalised. History, and historians in general, have not been kind to the Leveller women radicalised during the English Revolution. This issue extends beyond archives to a broader historiographical problem: the analytical frameworks used to interpret the Revolution frequently overlook gender as a key factor. This essay explores how historians have studied Leveller women, how Marxist scholarship has reinterpreted their importance, and how contemporary research is working to incorporate gender, class, and political radicalism into a cohesive analytical approach.

Marxist Historiography and the English Revolution

Christopher Hill’s work remains the foundational reference. He argued that the English Revolution was not just a constitutional crisis but a deep social upheaval. His observation that the Revolution “helped many women both to establish their own independence and to envision a complete escape for the poorer classes” is crucial. It positions women’s activism as a result of structural changes—war, displacement, religious divisions, and the decline of traditional authority—rather than an anomaly. Hill’s Marxist approach, connecting ideology to material conditions, allowed for understanding women’s political rise. However, Hill did not produce a detailed study of Leveller women; his work is more suggestive than exhaustive.

The Levellers in Marxist Interpretation

Marxist historians have long debated the class identity of the Levellers. Were they petty-bourgeois democrats, radical republicans, or proto-socialists? John Rees’s view that the Levellers constituted a distinct political organisation rather than just a faction within Independency is significant. It helps us see Leveller women not as secondary figures but as active participants in a coherent political movement.

The Levellers’ demands—such as sovereignty of the Commons, legal reform, and expanding the franchise—were inherently limited by their social class. Their exclusion of women from voting highlights the contradictions of a movement rooted in small producers and artisans: radical in opposing aristocratic dominance, yet conservative in gender roles.

According to The Lawes Resolutions of Woman’s Rights (1632), married women were legally considered non-persons. This harsh fact has significantly influenced feminist historiography. Researchers like Ann Hughes, Susan Amussen, and Kate Aughterson have demonstrated that women’s political activities should be interpreted within this context of legal invisibility. Consequently, women’s petitions, protests, and pamphlets served as acts of political self-empowerment — moments where women asserted agency despite its formal absence.

The 1649 women’s petition is among the earliest English texts to advocate for gender equality explicitly. The quote — “we are assured of our creation in the image of God, and of an interest in Christ equal unto men” — uses theological reasoning to support political claims. Feminist historians note that religious language was often the only available way to express political equality. The petition’s call for equal legal protection — “Are any of our lives, limbs, liberties, or goods to be taken from us more than from men…?” — foreshadows later feminist demands for civil rights.

Class, Gender, and Contradiction

Soma Marik’s intervention is crucial: she questions the economic factors influencing women’s activism. The response reveals contradictions: women earned less than men; domestic work could undermine patriarchal authority; and war brought both independence and difficulties. This mirrors Marxist theory, suggesting women’s political awareness arises from the conflicting forces within a society in transition, rather than from ideology alone.

Ian Gentles challenges the simple narrative of poverty by revealing that Chidley’s family thrived during the Commonwealth era. This is significant for historiography, as it shows that radicalism did not necessarily correlate with economic hardship. Chidley’s activism was influenced by her religious beliefs, political background, and social mobility. Her pamphlet, The Justification of the Independent Churches of Christ, demonstrates her ability to craft nuanced polemics. Her defence of “the plaine truth of holy Scripture” is not anti-intellectual but a conscious rejection of clerical authority.

Elizabeth Lilburne and the Politics of Survival

Ann Hughes’s research on Elizabeth Lilburne emphasises the issue of sources: nearly all our knowledge comes via John Lilburne’s writings. Despite this bias, Elizabeth appears as a politically engaged individual—petitioning Parliament, negotiating with hostile authorities, and supporting her family during persecution. Her activities show that women’s political agency was frequently expressed through defending imprisoned men—a form of activism influenced by gender expectations but capable of producing significant change.

Lady Eleanor Davies represents a different strand of women’s radicalism: aristocratic, prophetic, anti‑royalist. Her repeated imprisonments and the burning of her books — “her books were burned by Archbishop Laud — and, for good measure, by both of her own husbands” — illustrate the breadth of female dissent. The fact that women’s printed work constitutes “less than one per cent” of surviving texts underscores the archival challenge. Feminist historiography must therefore reconstruct political agency from fragmentary evidence.

Recent historiography, particularly Gaby Mahlberg's research, reveals that wives of prominent republicans created informal political networks during the Revolution. This challenges the traditional view that women’s political involvement was just reactive, such as petitioning for imprisoned husbands or seeking clemency. Instead, these women engaged in a parallel realm of political communication, often more discreet, mobile, and less detectable by authorities than formal Leveller organisations.

Edmund Ludlow’s recollection illustrates the sophistication of these networks. He feared he would receive no royal pardon because, as he recorded, “the wife of Sir Henry Vane had told Elizabeth [Lilburne] that General Monck’s wife had said she would beg the king… to see Vane, Lambert, and Ludlow hanged.” This was not idle gossip. It was political intelligence, transmitted through a chain of women who understood its implications and acted upon it. Information about Monck’s intentions, the king’s likely severity, and the dangers facing republican leaders circulated through domestic spaces — kitchens, parlours, marketplaces — where male surveillance was weakest.

These networks show that women were more than just channels for male political ideas. They made collective judgments, evaluated risks, and offered advice to their husbands. Elizabeth Lilburne’s persistent urging that John “make peace with Cromwell,” which he dismissed as “mournfull arguments,” was actually a realistic political assessment of their circumstances. Like many Leveller women, her advice came from a clear understanding of the changing power dynamics and the dangers of ongoing conflict.

Recognising these informal networks forces a reconsideration of women’s political agency in the English Revolution. It shows that women were embedded within the organisational fabric of radical politics, even when excluded from formal structures. Their communication networks linked households, circulated intelligence, and sustained political coordination during periods of imprisonment, exile, and repression. Far from being marginal actors, Leveller women were integral to the revolutionary movement’s ability to survive and adapt — operating in spaces where political power was exercised quietly, strategically, and with remarkable courage.

Conclusion

The recognition of women’s informal political networks compels a fundamental rethinking of the English Revolution. It reveals that women were not simply petitioners at the margins of male politics, nor passive observers of events unfolding around them. They were active participants in the circulation of intelligence, the formation of political judgement, and the maintenance of radical organisation under conditions of repression and uncertainty. Their work took place in spaces historians once dismissed as “domestic.” Yet, these spaces proved essential to the survival of republican and Leveller politics when formal structures were disrupted by imprisonment, exile, or military defeat.

By foregrounding these networks, we gain a clearer sense of the Revolution’s social depth. Radicalism did not reside solely in pamphlets, army debates, or parliamentary confrontation; it lived also in households, marketplaces, and the everyday exchanges between women whose political insight was sharpened by necessity and sustained by solidarity. Their contributions were rarely recorded, often undervalued, and almost always overshadowed by the writings of their husbands — yet without them, the Leveller movement would have been immeasurably weaker.

To restore these women to the historical narrative is not an act of token inclusion but a recognition of political reality. They were organisers, strategists, communicators, and, in many cases, the last line of defence for imprisoned radicals. Their presence forces us to see the English Revolution not only as a struggle over constitutional forms but as a profound reordering of social relations, in which women carved out new spaces of agency within — and sometimes against — the constraints of patriarchal society.

In acknowledging their role, we enrich our understanding of the Revolution itself. We see more clearly how deeply its currents ran, how widely its ideas travelled, and how fiercely its participants — men and women alike — fought to shape the future. The Leveller women, in their petitions, pamphlets, and networks of quiet but decisive influence, remind us that the struggle for equality has always depended on those whose work is least visible but most essential. Their story is not an appendix to the Revolution; it is one of its most radical expressions.

Sources and Bibliography

Primary Sources

• “Women’s Petition” (1649). In J. O’Faolain and L. Martines, Not in God’s Image. New York: Harper and Row, 1973, pp. 266–267.
• Elizabeth Lilburne. A Petition of Women (5 May 1649).
• William Clarke Manuscripts. In A. S. P. Woodhouse (ed.), Puritanism and Liberty: Being the Army Debates (1647–9). Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951.
• Simonds D’Ewes. Diary entries relating to women’s demonstrations, 8 August 1643.
• Katherine Chidley. The Justification of the Independent Churches of Christ (1641). Printed by William Larner.
• Thomas Edwards. Gangraena (1646).
• *The Lawes Resolutions of Woman’s Rights (1632).
• Lady Eleanor Davies. Prophetic writings and trial records (1633–1636).

Secondary Sources

Historiography and Marxist Scholarship

• Hill, Christopher. Women Turning the World Upside Down.
• Hill, Christopher. Irreligion in the Puritan Revolution.
• Rees, John. The Leveller Revolution: Radical Political Organisation in England, 1640–1650. London: Verso.

Social and Gender History

• Durston, Christopher. The Family in the English Revolution. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989.
• Hughes, Ann. “Gender and Politics in Leveller Literature.” In Susan Amussen and Mark Kishlansky (eds.), Political Culture and Cultural Politics in England: Essays Presented to David Underdown. Manchester: Manchester University Press; New York: St Martin’s Press, 1995, pp. 162–188.
• Aughterson, Kate (ed.). Renaissance Woman: A Sourcebook: Constructions of Femininity in England.
• M’Arthur, Ellen A. “Women Petitioners and the Long Parliament.” The English Historical Review, Vol. 24, No. 96 (October 1909), pp. 698–709.
• Marik, Soma. “Women, Radicalism, and the English Revolution.” Social Scientist, Vol. 32 (2004), pp. 50–70.

Leveller Studies

• Gentles, Ian. “London Levellers in the English Revolution: The Chidleys and Their Circle.” Journal of Ecclesiastical History, Vol. 29 (1978), pp. 281–309.
• Mahlberg, Gaby. The History Woman (blog). Commentary on republican networks and women’s political communication.

Biographical and Contextual Works

• Woodhouse, A. S. P. (ed.). Puritanism and Liberty. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951.
• Underdown, David. Works on political culture and popular radicalism (referenced indirectly through Hughes).

Digital and Reference Sources

• “Simonds D’Ewes.” Wikipedia.
• Gaby Mahlberg, thehistorywoman.com (blog).
• Archival materials relating to Lady Eleanor Davies (British Library, State Papers).

 

Against Continuity: Trotsky, the Transition Debate, and the Pseudo Left’s Political Dead End

Introduction

The debate over the transition from feudalism to capitalism remains a contentious topic in Marxist historiography. For more than a century, it has stood for deeper theoretical and political conflicts: debates about historical change, the relationship between economic and political shifts, and their implications for socialist strategies. Recently, however, the focus of this debate has shifted. An increasing number of pseudo-left scholars prefer ideas of continuity, national contexts, and eclectic methodologies, drifting away from Marxism’s revolutionary foundation toward a sociological perspective of gradual change. Henry Heller’s book, "The Birth of Capitalism: A 21st Century Perspective" (2012), exemplifies this development. Although it aims to elucidate capitalism’s origins, it ultimately obscures them through national exceptionalism, misapplied categories, and political pessimism.

This essay argues that the pseudo-left’s view of history is not only wrong but also politically damaging. It warps facts, overlooks capitalism’s global and revolutionary roots, and often weakens support for socialist efforts. Conversely, the traditional Marxist approach—especially Trotskyism—provides a straightforward way to understand capitalism’s uneven development and the various forces at play, helping us see its origins and ongoing crises. The significance of this matter goes beyond theory; it directly influences the future of revolutionary politics.1

The Continuity Turn in Marxist Historiography

The historiographical stance of the pseudo-left is based on a wider intellectual change that started in the late 20th century. Revisionist historians began to focus more on continuity rather than sudden breaks, viewing revolutions as part of enduring structural trends. The English Revolution was seen as a constitutional matter; the French Revolution was framed as a fiscal issue; the Industrial Revolution was regarded as a demographic shift. This revisionist trend paralleled the decline of Marxist thought in academia and the rise of post-structuralist scepticism toward overarching narratives.2

Within Marxist circles, the continuity perspective was articulated through the work of Maurice Dobb and Paul Sweezy, whose mid-century debate on transition shaped later discussions. Sweezy’s book, The Theory of Capitalist Development (1942), sought to move beyond his neoclassical education. Still, it significantly diverged from Marx, particularly regarding the falling tendency of the profit rate. This Dobb–Sweezy debate facilitated interpretations that minimised sudden breaks and focused on sustained long-term commercial growth.

By the 1970s, this trend became a deliberate attack on the very idea of revolution. As Dominic Alexander points out, mainstream history started to dismiss the notion that capitalism arose from truly revolutionary changes, instead seeing its development as part of an ongoing global trading network. The pseudo-left adopted this revisionist view wholesale, confusing its scholarly appearance with genuine theoretical depth.

Political Marxism and the National Straitjacket

The most impactful pseudo-left perspective in the transition debate is Political Marxism, linked to Robert Brenner and his followers. Brenner’s influential article, “Agrarian Class Structure and Economic Development in Pre-Industrial Europe” (1976), contended that capitalism arose primarily at the national level—in England—driven by shifts in agrarian class relations. He regarded international trade, colonial expansion, and global disparities as minor or insignificant factors.3

This idea of methodological nationalism is deliberate, reflecting a political stance that rejects the core internationalism of Marxism. Since capitalism has historically developed along national lines, socialism must follow the same path. If capitalism didn't require a global upheaval, socialism wouldn't either. The working class becomes a national entity, confined within national borders and limited to national strategies. Trotsky refuted this narrow view a century ago through his theory of uneven and combined development, which explains that capitalism doesn't emerge uniformly. Still, through conflicts between advanced and backward forms, it creates intense contradictions: “The law of uneven development governs the entire history of mankind.”[4] Capitalism is born, grows, and can only be overthrown on an international scale. Any history that denies this fact is not truly Marxist but nationalist.

The English Revolution and the Pseudo‑Left’s Historical Myopia

The pseudo-left’s view of the English Revolution illustrates the political impact of its approach. Brenner’s Merchants and Revolution (1993) simplifies the Revolution to a conflict between merchants and landlords, removing its revolutionary significance. Heller criticises Brenner on minor aspects but agrees with his broader national perspective.

Yet the historical evidence contradicts this reductionism. Valerie Pearl’s study of London merchants demonstrated that the wealthiest traders — those controlling the chartered companies — were overwhelmingly royalist, while “merchants of the middle rank” tended to support Parliament.[5] Brian Manning further cautioned that allegiance is difficult to establish even for well‑documented groups, complicating any attempt to map class position neatly onto political alignment.[6]

Revisionists seized on bourgeois participation on both sides to deny the Revolution’s bourgeois character. But as Ann Talbot argues, no revolution is “chemically pure.”[7] The English Revolution was uneven, contradictory, and impure — yet revolutionary nonetheless. It shattered feudal structures, opened the path to capitalist development, and demonstrated that political revolution is inseparable from economic transformation.

To deny the revolutionary character of 1640–60 is to deny the revolutionary character of capitalism itself. And to deny that is to deny the revolutionary capacity of the working class today.

The Global Birth of Capitalism

Marx’s description of primitive accumulation challenges pseudo-left nationalism. Capitalism didn’t originate solely in England but developed through various global events: the conquest of the Americas, the Atlantic slave trade, the collapse of Asian economies, the formation of worldwide commodity networks, and European commercial expansion. These weren’t continuous processes; instead, they caused ruptures across the world, exemplifying uneven and combined development at its most evident. Marx clearly depicted these dynamics, stating: “The discovery of gold and silver in America, the extermination, enslavement, and mining of indigenous populations… marked the beginning of capitalist production’s new era.”[8]

The pseudo-left struggles to accept this because it would mean recognising that capitalism’s contradictions are worldwide, which in turn implies that socialism’s conditions are also global. Their nationalism compels them to reject the very processes that Marx outlined. This historical perspective of the pseudo-left inevitably fosters political pessimism. Since capitalism developed gradually and nationally, without deliberate revolutionary action, socialism must follow the same pattern. Heller’s conclusion—that socialism is “centuries” away and should be approached through “experiments in socialism"—represents the logical conclusion of this continuity theory.[9]

This represents a revival of Menshevism, masquerading as scholarly analysis. It dismisses the revolutionary potential by prioritising academic credibility. In contrast, classical Marxism emphasises that capitalism operates as a worldwide system with global contradictions, crises, and the need for a global overthrow. The working class is capable of conscious revolutionary action without any need for experiments, long apprenticeships, or national detours. Conditions for socialism emerge directly from capitalism’s inherent global contradictions, not from pseudo-leftist gradualism.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Marxism from the Pseudo‑Left

The pseudo-left’s historiography on continuity is not only incorrect but also poses political risks. It dismisses the idea of rupture, agency, internationalism, and the revolutionary potential of the working class. Instead of Marxism, it promotes a cautious sociology of incremental change. To truly reclaim Marxism, one must embrace its proper historical method: dialectical, internationalist, and revolutionary. Trotsky’s concept of uneven and combined development offers the most compelling framework for understanding the origins of capitalism and its current crises. It reaffirms what the pseudo-left seeks to erase: the explosive, contradictory, and global nature of historical change. Capitalism’s emergence was not a gradual process but a storm. Its overthrow will not be a peaceful sunset, but a rupture—conscious, international, and revolutionary—driven not by isolated experiments but by the organised power of the working class.

Notes

1. Nick Beams, “Marxism and the Political Economy of Paul Sweezy,” World Socialist Web Site, 7 April 2004.
2. Dominic Alexander, review of The Birth of Capitalism, Counterfire, 2012.
3. Robert Brenner, “Agrarian Class Structure and Economic Development in Pre‑Industrial Europe,” Past and Present, 1976.
4. Leon Trotsky, The Third International After Lenin, Part I, Section 4.
5. Valerie Pearl, London and the Outbreak of the Puritan Revolution (Oxford University Press, 1961).
6. Brian Manning, The English People and the English Revolution (1976).
7. Ann Talbot, “The English Revolution and the Problem of Class,” World Socialist Web Site.
8. Karl Marx, Capital, Vol. I, Chapter 31.
9. Henry Heller, The Birth of Capitalism: A 21st Century Perspective (Pluto Press, 2012).