‘Of course. Have you not read Karl Marx?’
Nicolai had heard of Marx, and tried to remember what he knew. The fellow was a German Jew who had lived a long time in England and died a few years ago; an economist and a revolutionary. And there had been a disciple who was still active: Engels. But the works of these formidable men were only just beginning to appear in Russia and Nicolai had to confess he had read nothing.
The theories of Marx, Popov explained, derived from the great German philosopher, Hegel, propounded at the start of the century. ‘And no doubt you remember the great world system of Hegel from your student days, don’t you?’ Popov chided.
‘I think so.’ Nicolai searched his mind. Yes, he did remember. ‘It was called the Dialectic,’ he said.
‘Exactly. The Dialectic. That is the key to everything.’
Nicolai remembered it all now – Hegel’s beautiful, cosmic system which showed that the world was progressing towards an ultimate state of perfection: the Absolute. And the process for getting there? It was all done in stages – a seemingly endless clash of ideas, but each clash marking a step forward. Thus a Thesis – one seeming truth – met its opposite or Antithesis. And from the two emerged a new idea: Synthesis – better than the idea before, but still imperfect. And so the Synthesis would now become Thesis, and the whole business start again. Normally, Nicolai recalled, each Thesis collapsed because it had some flaw, some inner contradiction. Thus, for instance, men had thought the earth was flat – until the evidence contradicted what at first had seemed obvious. Then they supposed the earth was the centre of the universe with the sun circling round it – until this too was shown to be false. He liked the Dialectic: it suggested progress. It was compelling.
‘And the greatest master of the Dialectic was Karl Marx,’ Popov stated. ‘For by it he has explained the whole history of mankind – and its future too,’ he added.
Marxism: Nicolai listened, fascinated, as Popov outlined the system. ‘Only matter exists,’ he began. ‘That is the great truth that underlies everything. Hence the name we give Marx’s system: Dialectical Materialism.
‘For it’s the material means of production that determines everything,’ he expounded. ‘How we feed ourselves, clothe ourselves, how we extract minerals from the earth and manufacture. Man’s whole consciousness, his society, his laws, all derive from this economic structure. And in every society to date there are two classes fundamentally: the exploiters and the exploited. Those who own the means of production and those who sell their labour.’
‘And the Dialectic?’
‘Why, the class struggle – that’s the Dialectic. Think of it. In feudal Europe, who held the land? The nobles. And the exploited peasants worked it. But gradually that structure fell apart. A new world arose: the bourgeois world which has led to full-scale capitalism. Now the exploiters are the factory owners and the exploited are the workers – the proletariat. Thesis and Antithesis.’
‘And the Synthesis?’
‘The Synthesis is the revolution. The workers take over the means of production. Capitalism destroys itself and we enter the new age. It’s quite inevitable.’
‘What happens in the new age?’
‘First Socialism. The workers’ state owns the means of production. Later we progress to perfect Communism where the state, as we know it, will not even be needed.’
‘So we are still progressing towards the new world we dreamed of as students?’
Popov nodded. ‘Yes. But our mistake back in ’74 was to try to make a revolution with the peasants. The revolution can only come from the proletariat. And the big difference is that now, thanks to Marx, we know what we’re doing. We have a framework.’ He tapped his finger on the table. ‘The revolution has become scientific.’
Though Nicolai was not sure he understood perfectly, he was impressed. ‘Are there many Marxists in Russia?’ he asked.
Popov shook his head. ‘Only a few so far. The leader of Russian Marxism is Plekhanov, and he mostly lives in Switzerland.’ He reeled off a few more names, none of which meant anything to Nicolai.
‘And what does all this tell us about the revolution in Russia?’ Nicolai asked. ‘How and when will it come?’
Popov gave a wry grin. ‘Sometimes, Nicolai Mikhailovich, it seems there are as many opinions as revolutionaries.’ Then he grew serious. ‘Briefly, however, there are two views.
‘Consider,’ he went on. ‘Formal Marxism says that everything happens in its proper time. First an agricultural, feudal economy, then a bourgeois state. From this capitalism develops, becomes more and more centralized and oppressive until finally it collapses. The workers break their chains: the Socialist revolution takes place. A clear and logical sequence.
‘Now Russia,’ he explained, ‘is still primitive. She has only just entered the bourgeois stage of development. Her proletariat is small. If we had a revolution of our own, it would probably be like the French Revolution – throw out the monarchy and leave the bourgeoisie in charge. Only Europe can have a Socialist revolution, and then – maybe – Russia could become absorbed into the new world order Europe will create.’
‘So, the revolution can’t start in Russia?’
‘According to classical Marx – no. But as I said, there are two views. The other – which even Marx himself admitted was possible – is this.
‘What if Russia is a special, a unique, case? Consider, Nicolai: a rotten autocracy; a weak noble class completely dependent on the Tsar and with no economic power of its own; a small middle class, hardly developed; and a peasantry traditionally organized in communes. Nothing like England or Germany at all, therefore; a brittle, out-dated regime. Maybe Russia could have a sudden revolution that would move directly to some kind of primitive Socialism after all. No one knows.’
Nicolai listened, fascinated. ‘And what do you think?’ he asked.
Popov shrugged. ‘I’ve no faith in the peasants, as you know. I believe the main doctrine of Marx – Russia must first pass through a bourgeois and capitalist state. The proletarian revolution can only follow after that.’
‘So you don’t think the revolution will begin here?’
‘I’m sure it won’t.’
During all this time, Nicolai had noticed that Ulyanov had been content to say nothing, though once or twice, when Popov had been talking of Marx, the lawyer had nodded in agreement. Now however he spoke, very quietly.
‘Marxism is clearly correct. But we should remember, Marx was also a revolutionary, and revolution is a practical as well as theoretical business.’ He nodded to Popov. ‘Russia is immensely backward, of course, but industry is developing rapidly now. The proletarian class is growing. The basic Marxist conditions for revolution may exist in Russia in our lifetimes. And then – this is the key – the proletariat will need to be educated and led. You’ll need a trained cadre at the centre, otherwise it won’t work.’ It was said quietly, yet with certitude. Clearly, when this lawyer gave his considered opinion, he did not expect it to be questioned.
Nicolai studied Ulyanov. A revolutionary cadre: the leaders or the new men, as he and Popov used to call themselves years ago. And suddenly remembering the arguments with his own father in those days, he asked the strange-looking fellow: ‘Tell me – your cadre: should it use any means to promote the revolution?’
The lawyer stroked his beard thoughtfully.
‘I should say yes.’
‘Including terrorism?’
‘If it’s useful,’ Ulyanov responded calmly, ‘why not?’
‘I just wondered,’ Nicolai said.
The conversation moved on after this, to other things. Nicolai tried to find out a little more about what Popov was doing, but soon gave up, and shortly afterwards Ulyanov announced that he felt tired and would retire to his carriage.