CHAPTER VIToC

"Where one goes ahead, others go back;Who would not be driven must drive;So strife ensues and the strongest wins."

It is here that differences of opinion may emerge: but must this really come to "strife" and "warfare"? May we not hope that, through love of mankind, or sympathy, or interest in the welfare of the whole, or some such noblemotive, each class will freely divest itself of such of its privileges as stand in the way of others? I have already had occasion in another place to express my opinion on this point—that I look upon such well-intentioned judgment of average human nature as in contradiction with actual life. I have referred to the fact that conclusive proof for or against such a conception cannot be presented; that the final ground of decision rests in the depths of personal conviction on the part of the individual. But what offers some proof for the justification of the realistic opinion presented by me is the circumstance that history has as yet given no example of a free divestment of class privilege; at least I will say that every instance claimed as such may easily be invalidated. On the other side we have innumerable instances in history where such reform has been begun by well-meaning friends of humanity, theorists, only to be shattered soon on therocher de bronzeof the strong self-interest of the threatened dominant class. They eagerly hold up before us unbelievers the night of the 4th of August, 1789, and they forget the hundred burning castles in France. They remind us of the Prussian agrarian reforms, and forget notonly the French Revolution but also the Declaration of 1816. They remind us—but why add illustrations? Let such men prove authentically a single case in history in which a social class has against its own interests and out of altruistic motives made an essential concession. Certainly there have been conspicuous individuals who have done this; why not? We see this daily. But a whole class—never! If this is so, then the word of the great realist must be true, that "only strength conquers." So we find as the conclusion of our thought, first a difference of classes, then class interests, then class opposition, finally class strife. It is thus that Marx would have developed his theory of class strife, and easily, if he had chosen to proceed upon a psychological foundation.

As we now turn to this theory itself and its significance for the social movement we are obliged, I think, to concede that the entrance of Karl Marx was a decisive turning-point in this agitation, because through him it was based upon a fundamentally changed conception of history and humanity. This change is occasioned by the fact that, in place of an idealistic, or rather partisan, way of looking at things, a realistic vision obtains, and thus forthe social movement the idea of "revolution" passes into the thought of "evolution." The spirit of the nineteenth century supplants the spirit of the preceding centuries. You remember how I sought to make clear to you the essence of this spirit in connection with the teachings of the utopists; if I may be allowed to refer to it again, it is that idealistic conception of man and life,[1]cherished now only by the scholars, that faith in humanity as good by nature, that belief that men so long as they are not led astray by the mistake or malice of individual bad men will live in the most affectionate peace with their brethren; it is that belief in a "natural order" of the past and future—that rock-fast confidence that only explanation and exhortation are needed in order to bring men out of this vale of tears to the happy islands of the blest. This is that faith in the power of eternal love which through its own force shall overcome the bad, and help the good to victory. This it was that, though the leaders were not conscious of it, really lay at the bottom of all political and social agitation until the middle of our century; this it isthat, in my opinion, as I have already said, still slumbers in the lap of anarchism, even to-day as an instinct. This fundamental tendency is now directly reversed; the belief in a humanity good by nature gives place to the conviction that man is of himself ruled by no noble motives, that he carries within himself thebête humaineeven in all culture and in spite of all "advance." Hence the conclusion: that a man, in order to accomplish anything in the world, must before all call upon "interest"—a normal and material instinct. For it is the most important conclusion for the fate of the social movement, that now "interest" rules in the world; that where anything is to be done, or a class, like the proletariat, is to be emancipated, a man needs some weapon stronger than the theory of "eternal love" against the interest of the capitalist class, and must present force against force, might armed by "interest." At the end of all thought upon this matter lies this consideration, which leads not only to the theory, but as well to the practice, of class strife. Combat is the solution of the difficulty for this hard and unlovely proletarian generation which has grown up since the middle of our century; not peace, notreconciliation, not a general brotherhood—but battle. That this strife is no longer open warfare, like street riot, does not alter the fact that it is really strife. Out of this is to come a generation of men qualified to live and work in an order of society higher than the present capitalistic order.

It is this that I call the realistic conception of the social movement; and there is no doubt that it is the outcome of that Marxian theory of the world and society which I have just attempted to sketch. Only thus could the social-political realism, which heretofore has been proclaimed in a limited way, now arise as the principle of the whole social movement.

It is this social-political realism which gives the finishing stroke to all utopism and revolutionism. The insurrectionists in Lyons and the Chartist revolutionaries were both utopists—for they shed their blood and yet only strengthened the reaction. The Putschists, Clubists, and Blanquists were utopists, who through conspiracies and street riots would through all time control economic development. Not less utopian were those "geniuses" who offered exchange banks or theOrganisation du travailor such remedies. Utopists also were those who believed in the power of all kinds of schemes. Finally, utopists were all those kindly souls who hoped to allay and overcome the sufferings of the proletariat by an appeal to the good hearts of the friends of humanity. Karl Marx has succeeded in freeing us from the use of empty phrases in the sphere of social politics.

Let us now in closing recapitulate the points wherein I see the historic significance of Marx's teaching for the social movement. Marx points out as itsobjectthe communisation of the means of production, as itswaythe struggle between classes; he erects these two as the main pillars upon which the whole structure must be built. He secured for these principles general acceptance; and he succeeded in this without preventing the development of national and other peculiarities. In placing the social movement in the flow of historic development he brings it theoretically into harmony with the objective and subjective factors of history, he bases it upon actual conditions of economic life and of human endowment, he shows its economic and psychological features.

Thus I look at Marx, when I attempt tofathom the spirit of his teaching; this is the deep meaning of Marxism.

There is no doubt that, according to the common idea, Marx and Engels, who must always be named with him, appear in a light essentially different from that which I have attempted to show to you. In general these men have been looked upon, not only as different from what I have stated, but as in a bad sense the very opposite of social realists; namely, as the father and the guardian of the worst kind of revolutionary thought. And who would not apparently be justified in this belief, reading the writings of both these men? He reads of clanking chains which must be broken, of revolutions towards which man tends, of bloody battle and death and assassination. How does the matter really lie?

Marx himself once said,Moi je ne suis pas Marxiste, but he gave to these words a meaning different from the ordinary one, as I also do when I say that Marx and Engels have not always shown themselves consistent Marxists either in theory or in practice.

Doubtless there are inconsistencies in theory, contradictions of the fundamental thoughts, discrepancies which can have onlyone source—that is, an overwhelming revolutionary passion which obscures a vision otherwise so clear.

For example, I think of their unreasonable belief in what they call the "fall" of humanity through the introduction of the principle of private property, from which as they say history, and as well the forces of history, take their start; the astonished hearer asks himself, What impelled man to the introduction of this principle? I think, also, of the hypothesis of a strifeless condition of humanity after the introduction of socialism—and the like. Here, and throughout, the old dreams of a Paradise lost and regained, of a happy condition of humanity originally, come as a disturbing element into their new world of thought.

With both these men it was in life as in theory. Here also appears the old revolutionary Adam every moment and plays tricks with them. Since the year 1845 they have not ceased to dream of revolution, and indeed fierce revolution; repeatedly have they announced the outbreak as near. This could be only the outcome of an unrealistic judgment of the situation, of a mistaken conception of the political, economic, and socialconditions; thus it was an error of judgment as to the time, if not a contradiction of their supreme principle that "revolutions are not made." Psychologically these contradictory phenomena are easily to be explained. Both Marx and Engels have never ceased with intelligence and calm judgment to present that realism which we have seen as the essence of their view of life. But you must not forget that they have conceived their teachings under the roar of revolutionary battles; that they were themselves of those fitful and fiery souls who, like the "world squirrel,"[2]go assiduously from place to place in order to set Europe on fire. Think of the mass of malice and hatred that must have accumulated within these exiles, who experienced through life nothing but derision, scorn, suspicion, and persecution from their powerful opponents! Imagine what a superhuman self-discipline and control was needed to prevent them from petty and vindictive attacks upon the hated opponents at every opportunity. As this deeplyrooted passion arose in these revolutionary heroes, as rage almost strangled them, their logic flew out of the window and old revolutionary fury broke out and overwhelmed them. But that I am right in characterising Marxism as a social-political realism you see clearly from the many and fundamental declarations and acknowledgments of its founders, which come to us out of all periods of their lives. And indeed there is always a declared opposition to general revolutionism, to "Putschism," as they assert their standpoint. The strife with the party of Willich-Schapper in the year 1850, the battle with Bakunin in the "International,"—concerning which I have yet to speak,—the declarations against the anarchists, the discussion with Duehring, the disowning of the "Jungen,"—all tends in the end to help to victory the evolutionary principle in the social movement. It is easy to explain how the true conviction came to expression on these occasions.

The last word of Marxism, which also contains arésuméof its teaching; is a writing by Engels, published shortly before his death; the introduction to theStruggle of Classes in France. It is an epilogue to his own life'sdrama, a confession, the last words of warning which the dying man cries to the contesting proletariat. Here the clear, logical position, as I think it is demanded by the conception of history held by that school, finally comes to distinct expression. This introduction shows perhaps best and most quickly how at the end Engels and Marx understood the social movement. Some of the most significant passages may here find place:

"History has proved wrong us and all who thought similarly (sc. expecting the victory of the proletariat in the near future of the year 1843). It has made clear that the condition of economic development upon the Continent at that time was far from ripe for an abolishment of capitalistic production; it has proved this through the economic development which since 1848 has seized upon the whole continent and has made a home for the great industries in France, Austria, Hungary, Poland, and lately Russia, has made out of Germany an industrial country of the first rank—all upon a capitalistic basis, which in the year 1848 was but little developed. To-day the great international army of socialists is resistlessly stepping forward, is daily growing in number, discipline, intelligence, and assurance of victory. As to-day this mighty army of the proletariat has not as yet reached the goal, as it is far from accomplishing the victory by one great stroke, but must slowly press forward in hard persistent struggle from positionto position, this proves once for all how impossible it was in the year 1848 to accomplish the social overturning through a simple unexpected attack.... The time of surprise, of carrying through a revolution by a small minority at the head of ignorant masses, is passed. For a complete overthrow of the social organisation the masses themselves must be concerned, they must understand what they do, why they take part. The history of the last fifty years has taught this to us. But through this teaching the masses are learning what is to be done, and that long and patient work is needed, and that it is just this work which we now urge forward with such success that our opponents are brought to confusion. The irony of history turns everything upside down. We, 'revolutionaries,' succeed far better by means legal than illegal and destructive. The party of order, as it calls itself, goes to pieces through the very conditions created by itself. It cries out confusedly with Odelon Barrot—la légalité nous tue(conformity to the law kills us); while we, with this legality, develop round muscles and red cheeks and seem destined for eternal life."

What comes to expression in these words is merely a confession of—Marxism.

[1]In what follows I reproduce some passages out of my book concerning Friedrich Engels (Berlin, 1895).

[2]In German mythology the world is represented as a great tree, with its roots in Niefelheim, and its branches in Asgard. Wotan communicates with the world by a "welten eichhoernchen," a "world squirrel," which runs up and down the tree. (Translator.)

"Schon laengst verbreit etsich's in ganze Scharen Das Eigenste, was im allein gehoert."Schiller'sWallenstein.

"Schon laengst verbreit etsich's in ganze Scharen Das Eigenste, was im allein gehoert."

Schiller'sWallenstein.

Now, after long, that diffuses itself through large masses of men Which once was most private, which belonged to him alone.

Karl Marx closed his manifesto with the celebrated words, "Proletarians of all lands, unite yourselves!" He uttered this cry on the eve of the revolution of 1848, which was admittedly proletarian-socialistic in its character, in various places, but which exhausted itself in those separate spots where it had broken out. In Germany, where Marx himself stood in the battle, it reached no importance. In England, it seemed for a moment as if the February revolution would infuse new life into the old Chartism; but this had already been buried. The French movement is the only one left; how it ended is well known. And then the deep night of thereaction of the 'fifties settled upon Europe. All the seeds of an independent working-men's movement were suppressed. Only in England the trade-union movement was developed.

Since the beginning of the year 1860 signs of life among the working people have appeared in different places. They recover here and there from the blows and repression which they experienced during and after the agitation of 1848, and an interest and participation in public life begin again to awake. The characteristic trait is this: the activity of the new and independent life receives an international stamp. Naturally this is no mere chance. It was not by chance that, at the World's Exposition, the working men of different lands first reached the hand one to another; it was a development of capitalism itself, stepping upon a stage of international largeness. The Continental powers of Europe began to rival England. Commercial politics were first of all robbed of their exclusive character through a series of treaties, and were directed towards the unifying of business life throughout Europe.

Since those first beginnings, at about the year 1860, the idea of internationalism hasnever quite disappeared from proletarian agitation, even though it may have experienced in the course of the years essential changes in the form of its development.

It will be my duty in what follows to show to you how this tendency towards internationalism, after many abortive attempts, has been really carried out, and how, in close connection with it as concerns goal and progress, the social agitations of individual lands more and more press towards a unity upon the principles of the Marxian programme.

The first form in which an attempt was made for international combination of the proletariat is the celebrated "International." Allow me to dwell somewhat at length upon this. It is essentially of importance and interest for two reasons. One is that through it, and its speedy end, a specific form of the internationalising of the social agitation has been broughtad absurdum. The other is because in it with striking clearness contradictions are presented, which pervade all social agitation.

It was in the year 1862, when the French working-men, at the World's Exposition in London, agreed with the English workers to counsel together concerning united agitation.Further conferences ensued, and in 1864 a union was founded which had as its object the uniting of the representatives of workmen of different lands for common action and advance. This was the International Association. What were the duties, what was the thought, of such a brotherhood? Apparently twofold. We can suppose that they meant to create merely a kind of correspondence bureau—a place where the working men of different lands might unite in a general international secretariate, to which they might turn for information concerning any question pertaining to the social movement—that is, an institution far from exerting an influence upon the agitations of the working men in the various lands. The majority of the men who, at that time, in the beginning of the 'sixties, strove to carry out the idea of an international union thought of it surely in this vague form.

The other conception goes further; a central spot should be created for the working-men's movement, a place from which the working-men's agitations in turn might receive assistance and inspiration, from which influence could be exerted upon the separate national efforts. The most important representative of the latter andlarger meaning was Karl Marx, who was called upon to play a decisive rôle in the founding of the International Working-Men's Association. For him this organisation was the first answer to his cry to the world, "Proletarians of all lands, unite yourselves!" It is not to be doubted that if a central organisation was to be created, to reveal a spirit of unity and to ensure a unification of national proletarian agitation, the Marxian spirit should control. Although he viewed the situation clearly enough to see that extremest caution was needed, he aimed to unite the many streams into one great river.

The "International" was founded upon the basis of the so-called "Inaugural Address" and the "Statutes," both of which were evolved by Karl Marx and accepted as he presented them. In them great diplomatic skill is revealed. The "Inaugural Address" is a masterpiece of diplomatic finesse. It is indefinite throughout its whole structure, rendered purposely so by Karl Marx. He aimed, by it, to cover various parties of the time, the Proudhonists, the working-men's associations of France, the trade unions in England, the followers of Mazzini in Italy, thesupporters of the Lassalle agitation in Germany; and it actually accomplished this in a masterly way. It commended itself to each and every one of them. It pictures in effective way the misery into which the working people are plunged by capitalism; it finds words of recognition for the results of the English trade unions. It praises the characteristics and services of the "free-coöperative movement"—Proudhon, Duchez; but it has also a friendly word for the organisations which receive aid from the state—Lassalle, Blanc.

Out of it all is drawn only this conclusion, with which all sympathise—that the proletariat of all lands should be conscious of an international solidarity. In some general and sentimental phrases, which surely were traced by Marx with reluctance, national differences find their adjustment, and their representatives find a uniting bond. The "Statutes" were prefaced by some considerations which containedin nucethe principles of Marxism—with various concessions, as, for example, the appeal tovérité,justice et morale. But even here is all pressure avoided. A man could, on any point of uncertainty, always think that something else was meant, and could at least feel himself freeconcerning it. Very little reference was made to the objects of the International Working-Men's Association. Its activity during the first years consisted essentially in the support of strikes, for which reason it enjoyed at the beginning the lively sympathy of many outside of the circles of working men.

But now Marx began to develop his plan systematically; that is, slowly to fill the International Working-Men's Association with his spirit, and through it to support the proletarian agitation of different lands. As we look at the congresses of this organisation, in Geneva, 1866; Lausanne, 1867; Brussels, 1868; Basle, 1869, we find that in fact, step by step, from congress to congress, the International Working-Men's Association supports more and more the Marxian ideas, noticeably, and without any appearance of the moving spirit on the scene. But now it is interesting to observe, and it shows the degree of development which at that time the social movement had reached, that the time for the inspiration of the whole European world of working men with the Marxian ideas evidently had not yet come. In proportion as the "International" began to display the spirit of Marx, opposition ragedin every quarter. The Proudhonists began to oppose it; then the trade unions, especially after that moment when Marx declared himself in sympathy with the Commune in Paris; the followers of Lassalle began to grumble at it. A great part of the opposition crystallised itself, towards the end of the 'sixties, in one man, Michael Bakunin. As to the part which personal anger and envy played in this opposition, we are not interested. It is possible that this personal friction was essentially the reason for the destruction of the "International." It seems to me, however, that at the bottom of the antagonism of Bakunin against Marx lay a much more essential and considerable opposition. For in 1868 Bakunin founded theAlliance Internationale de la Démocratie Sociale, in which he united chiefly Italian and Spanish associations, and as well the French; and it is in thisalliancethat the opposition on principle to Marx's efforts comes to clear and sharp expression. But the real point of difference lies in the distinction which you already know between revolutionism on the one side and the evolution idea on the other, between the idealistic and the realistic conception of history. Bakunin based hiswhole activity upon the idea of revolution by force, upon the belief that revolutions must be made because they can be made. In opposition to him, Marx defended the fundamental thought that a revolution is at most the last feature of a process of development, the breaking of the husk through the ripening of the fruit.

The opposition of Bakunin led finally, as is well known, to the dissolution of the International Working-Men's Association. In 1872 its general office was transferred to New York, apparently in order to avoid a formal burial of the organisation.

Thus it came to pass that the Bakunists were shut out, and with them were a number of "exclusions" from the circles of the orthodox; the process of excommunication began, which to-day, as you know, is not ended. Exactly the same thought lies at the bottom of the exclusion of the Bakunists from the "International" as, this very year, in the driving of the anarchists out of the London congress. Always again the contradiction presents itself, socialism and anarchism; or, as deeply understood, evolutionism and revolutionism.

Thus was shattered that first attempt to make a union of the proletariat of all lands, and it will be many years before the thought of international solidarity can again rule the working man. In spite of its speedy ruin, the "International" has large historic significance, and this lies in the fact that for the first time it brought the internationalism of the movement and the international community of interest of the proletariat in some measure to clear expression; further, in that for the first time the social movement of different lands was made familiar with the Marxian scheme of thought, and at the same time affected with the Marxian spirit.

The compromises of the Marxian scheme gave the first impulse to the general linking of international social agitation. But finally this unification would be accomplished in a way quite other than that which the founder of the International Working-Men's Association had imagined. A mistake as to way was made; for this reason the "International" went down. It had placed before itself the task of forcing solidarity into the social movement from without, inwards. This is a thought which is essentially un-Marxian; again, one ofthe cases in which Marx was not Marxian. The way to unity should have been reversed; from within, outwardly. First must the agitations in individual lands be divested to some degree of their national and contingent features, first must the general economic development be further advanced, before the proletariat could by internal development become conscious of its international solidarity and come to a recognition of this unity in the chief points of its programme.

This internal and external unification, which is the product of the last decade, I might specify as the third stage in the development of the social movement; and then the second stage would be the complete saturation of the German social democracy with the Marxian spirit. This political party becomes thereby the organ through which those ideas spread into other lands.

In Germany there has grown into recognition a social movement which, at the beginning, was conducted in the spirit of both Marx and Lassalle, but which soon came under the control of pure Marxism. I recall the following stages of development. When thirty-two years ago the deadly bullet struck Lassalle inGeneva, that man was removed who alone had represented the German working-men's movement; and what he left behind was next to nothing. His "Working-Men's Union" numbered only four thousand six hundred and ten members at the moment when he closed his eyes. So also immediately after Lassalle's death the agitation was nothing more than a useless and petty strife. It was a coterie rather than a social party. Thus the field in Germany was open for the development of a new social-democratic movement from another source. This was started in 1864 by Wilhelm Liebknecht, who came to Germany as the direct envoy of Karl Marx, and with strong belief in his ideas; the purpose was to establish the working-men's movement upon a basis other than that of Lassalle. He won to this cause the youthful energy of the master-turner August Bebel, who, at the age of twenty-four, was already the leader of a number of working-men's unions which had been until that time in advanced radicalism. These are the organisations, you know, which in the year 1868, in Nuremberg, seceded from Schulze to Marx. Fourteen thousand working men were represented. The resolution through which thistransfer was accomplished was drawn by Liebknecht and was inspired by the Marxian spirit. Thus in 1868 a new social party was formed in Germany which took the name of the Social-Democratic Working-Men's Party, and which, after the congress in Eisenach, stood for a time alone as the so-called "Honorables," until in the year 1875 the union of the Lassalle and the Bebel faction was accomplished in Gotha. Since that time, as you know, the one "Social-Democratic Party" exists. It is significant that the present union rests upon a compromise between Lassalle and Marx, but is really directed by the Marxists, who step by step have won control in the party. The "Gotha" programme remained as the platform of the movement in Germany for sixteen years; and not until the year 1891 was it replaced by a new platform, the "Erfurt" programme, which now constitutes the confession of faith of the Social-Democratic movement in Germany. It is pervaded by a strongly Marxian spirit and contains essentially only a statement of Marxian doctrines in accordance with the spirit of the age. Let me in a few words present merely the lines of thought in this programme. It begins with the phrases:

"The economic development of middle-class society leads by anecessity of nature to the extinction of that economic order, production on a small scale, which rests upon the private ownership of the workman in his means of production. It separates the workman from his means of production, and changes him into a possessionless proletarian; while the instruments of production become the monopoly of a small number of capitalists and landowners, etc."

As you see, this programme proceeds from the fundamental thought that economic development completes itself in a specific way; hence follow all the other matters with which the programme deals. This special Marxian thought, that an economic evolution is involved, has become the central point of the Erfurt programme. It shows, further, how out of the economic development a conflict emerges in the form of class strife; and then it concludes that only a change to communal ownership of the means of production can quiet this conflict. The party for which the platform was created takes hold of the communistic thought of the Erfurt programme in this sense, that the duty of a political party can only be to bring to the consciousness of the workman the existing economic revolution.

These are the words: "To bring thiswarfare of the working classes to consciousness and unity, to show the natural and necessary goal—that is the duty of the Social-Democratic Party." This is the point that is especially important for us—the German agitation becomes completely saturated, rapidly and uninterruptedly, with Marxian ideas, and thus this spirit spreads gradually into other lands.

If you now ask me how this gradual extension of the Marxian system and in connection with it the unification of the Marxian movement are shown, the following, points seem to me of especial importance. In 1873 the "International" came to an end. It seemed as if, with it, the internationalisation of the social movement in like manner had ceased. But for about a decade past we have had again general and formal "International Working-Men's Congresses." The year 1889 opened the series with a working-men's congress in Paris, again at a world's exposition. Here again, in a new and freer form, this idea of the old "International" arises, and in a much larger form than the old international working-men's associations had ever realised it. For these former international working-men's associations had been really only a combinationof a number of representatives and secretaries. The masses scarcely stood upon paper. The congresses which now again the world of working men have created rest upon a much broader basis, in my opinion, since, in spite of all "exclusions" and factional strife, these international meetings represent a real combination of working men conscious of their aim and organised for it—a fact which we can no longer hide from ourselves, since the old English trade-unions have become represented at the congresses. Thus the international congresses now include the so-called "socialists" and the trade unions as well. In spite of all differences of opinion on certain points, at these congresses there is such expression of internationality and solidarity on the part of the proletariat as was never approached by any of the meetings of the old "International." And it is certainly not by chance that the pictures of Marx and Engels look down upon these new unions of the international proletariat.

But let us now look at a number of evidences, which make clear to us that the movements of different lands approach more and more to a unanimity resting upon the leadingthoughts of the Marxian programme. There is first the important fact to remember that the French, originally uneconomic in temperament, have now begun effectively the trade-union agitation. The creation ofBourses du Travailprove how earnestly this part of the social movement is cultivated by the French. Through the agitation of class strife, the general movement towards such associations receives a new impulse. And as the French, inclined to revolutionary and political agitation, begin to become economic, we see on the other side the very important fact that the English working-man recedes step by step from his purely trade-union "Manchester" platform.

I have never believed what some years ago was announced to the world, in connection with a snap resolution of a working-men's congress, that the English trade-unions would go over to the socialistic camp with torch and trumpet. Such decisive changes in social life are not accomplished in that way; there is needed a slow ripening. And the proceedings of the London congress in this year (1896) prove how much antipathy yet exists between the English trade-unions and certain elementsof Continental socialism. But in spite of all these tendencies the fact remains that the English working-men's movement approaches the Continental on important points; that is, it has at least begun to be socialistic in aim and political in the means used. That an "Independent Working-Men's Party" as yet plays no rôle in England proves for the present nothing. The peculiar conditions of English party life make a representation of the working men in Parliament unnecessary under the circumstances. But who can doubt, in view of the proceedings of the last decade, that the English trade-unions, even the older ones, stretch out the hand more than formerly towards the door-latch of legislation? Let me remind you of the fact that with small, though deeply interested, minorities the trade unions have written upon their programme a legal work-day of eight hours. Also, in spite of much limitation and qualification, the resolution of the English working-men in the year 1894 remains—the communisation of the English means of production, at least the most important of them, as the object of their agitation. Is that anything other than a conversion of the English working-men's association?

In Germany we find that the normal line, upon which the social movement in all nations begins to arrange itself, was nearly reached at the start. It was only necessary to throw off some of Lassalle's peculiar ideas, those revolutionary notions which arose here and there about the year 1870, and especially to give broader play to the trade-union movement, in order to reach the "minimum programme" of all social agitation. This programme is, to repeat concisely:—the object of the social movement is the communisation of the means of production in its largest technical development upon a democratic basis; the means of reaching this aim is the struggle of classes; this has two equally justifiable forms, the economic—which finds its expression in the trade-union movement, the political—which finds its expression in representation in Parliament. The formulation of this proposition is the specific service of Karl Marx, as we have seen; and for this reason I think I am warranted in speaking of the whole social movement of our time as infused with the Marxian spirit. For it is not unknown to you that the social agitation in lands of later capitalistic development—Italy, Austria, and Russia—has been from thebeginning in accordance with the thought of that platform.

If in any such way I think that I see a unification of the social movement, that does not mean that I see a machine-like uniformity of this movement in the different lands. I am not blind to the innumerable diversities which are developed by the various nations, and which are revealed every moment. I have attempted to show to you how absolutely necessary these national peculiarities are, and to a certain degree always will be—because of historic tradition and difference of national character. So when I speak of a unity, I only mean, as I have already often said, a tendency to this which struggles to assert itself in spite of national disposition. The social agitation will always retain a double tendency, a centripetal and a centrifugal. The former, arising from the uniformity of capitalistic development and from the similarity of original causes, tends towards conformity; the latter, the product of national differences and of manifold causes, tends to divergence.

I have to-day attempted to show to you how the centripetal tendency reveals itself. The object of my next lecture will be to present toyou a systematic review of the manifold points of difference which have already often been referred to in the course of these lectures. Thus will be completed the picture of the essentials of the modern social movement, which I am attempting to sketch for you.

"Usually a man refuses to dismiss the fool that he carries within, and to admit any great mistake, or to acknowledge any truth that brings him to despair."Goethe,Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.

"Usually a man refuses to dismiss the fool that he carries within, and to admit any great mistake, or to acknowledge any truth that brings him to despair."

Goethe,Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship.

Who, caring at all about what is going on in these days, has not noticed the many contradictions which are now apparent in the great social movement? Even the inexperienced observer, or he who stands too near to real life to have free and wide outlook, will easily see behind these contradictions a tendency towards a unity of effort. Now that we have obtained a right understanding of this we shall, I hope, do justice to these differences, these contradictions—we shall be able to comprehend them in their essence and necessity.

The sources out of which they spring are as numerous as the contradictions themselves. How often a personal motive can, under certain circumstances, appear as an essential difference! Morbid self-conceit, desire for power,quarrelsomeness, caprice, malevolence, lack of honour—innumerable traits of character give occasion for friction and contention.

But for these the social theorist cares nothing. Only that is of importance to him which rests upon an essential difference. And of these also there are enough, because the causes of them are numerous. What is here decisive is the variation in the view of world and life, is the difference of national character, is the varying degree of vision into the essence of social development or of understanding concerning accepted principles, is the varying measure of ripeness and education of the masses, is the difference in economic development in the various lands, etc.

But I cannot possibly exhaust the points of contradiction and strife which arise out of these manifold and effective causes. I shall here simply present certain matters which seem to me especially important because essentially significant. My duty as to this problem can be, again, only that of a theorist who tries to make a clear explanation, who desires not to work upon your will but upon your intelligence, who does not carry in his hand the brand of agitation but the lamp of illumination.

If I do not pay attention to some points of difference which may seem to you of supreme importance, it is not because I do not myself recognise this importance, but because I suppose the contradiction that comes to expression in them to be either out of date or only imaginary, or because I go back of them to the deeper, essential differences. Thus, for example, the alternative,trade unionsora working-men's party, is either the expression of a deeper opposition concerning which I shall later speak, or it is a question that does not concern us in these days. Thus concerning all those representatives of the working-men's movement who place themselves upon the platform of legal struggle. These men know that politics and trade unions are like the right and left legs upon which the proletariat marches; that political part-taking is needed in order to obtain influence upon legislation; that economic organisation is needed in order to discipline and educate the masses. The only question can be now as to the degree, the more or less, of the one or the other form of social agitation;—always within the limits of legal agitation on the part of the working men. Any such question cannot be general; it mustbe decided separately in each place and case. The economic ripeness of the masses, the degree of political freedom, and much else, must decide.

In a similar way is another point of difference to be judged; shall there be an independent working-men's party or not? You know, I have already spoken to you a number of times concerning this, saying that in England thus far there has been practically no independent working-men's party; I have given to you the reasons why, as it seems to me, any such party has been until now at least unnecessary, even if the working men desired to busy themselves in political matters. The political influence of the social movement is not dependent upon the existence of an independent party of working men. Even that question is not a general one; it must be decided according to local circumstances.

If we ask now for antitheses of real importance, we are met first and especially, to-day, by that sufficiently explained opposition which is contained in the wordsrevolutionorevolution, the old point of discussion which was, is, and I believe will be, a constant feature of social agitation; that point of separation whichwe traced first in the "International," and which to-day we see revived in the opposition of the so-called "Junger" and the anarchists against the majority of organised labour. The reasons on account of which I think that also in the future this discussion will not cease are as follows. Revolutionism is, as I have shown you, a manifestation of unripeness. A man can, in a certain sense, assert that the social movement begins anew every moment; for every day new masses arise out of the lower strata of the proletariat yet living in stupid unconsciousness, and they attach themselves to the social movement. These unschooled elements, of course, in their part-taking show the characteristics of the social movement itself in its beginnings. They find their natural leaders in the disinherited citizens of the day, like Catiline of old, mostly young men who have nothing to lose and who try to substitute a fiery enthusiasm for theoretic insight and practical judgment. The process which we have watched for a decade is one which must ever again be repeated; the maturer elements are absorbed and disappear, new hordes of revolutionists arise, and the process of absorption by the riper, evolutionary, elements beginsanew. Thus we see two opposing phases of the development of social agitation that play their part at the same time in different spheres of the proletariat. So far as can be seen, there has been thus far an uninterrupted progress in the absorption of the unripe revolutionary elements by the evolutionists.

But even here, where the idea of evolution, consciously or unconsciously, obtains recognition as the basis of the social movement, we meet questions, many of which, as it seems to me, arise because of a false conception of the essence of social evolution.

Although I have had opportunity at different times to show what social evolution is, at least in a general way, let me here repeat concisely what I understand by this idea; for a right comprehension of this point is all-important. Social evolution, and the conception of the social movement as such an evolution, rest upon the thought that we find ourselves in a continued condition of economic and thus social change, and that specific social interests and the necessary relations of mastery are connected with each change; thus in proportion as the evolution proceeds and as the activities of the interested groups develop, the balance of powerbecomes displaced, with the result that the ruling classes are slowly replaced by other classes that reach control. Here also lies at bottom the thought that the division of power at any given time is truly the expression of economic relations, and is no merely accidental and artificial work; that this power can only be displaced gradually, and only as the economic relations are changed, and as at the same time the personal and subjective conditions and the characteristics of the aspiring classes are developed. In a word, social evolution is a gradual achievement of power, the creation of a new condition of society, corresponding to the overthrow of economic relations and the transformation and schooling of character.

Among the evolutionists differences have emerged owing to a confusion of the terms "quietism" and "evolution." Especially among the Marxists has the thought spread, that evolution is so entirely a process of nature, independent of human activity, that the individual must let his hands rest in his lap and must wait until the ripened fruit drops. This quietist and, as I believe, pseudo-Marxist idea has no real connection with the inner thought of evolution. Its fundamental mistake lies inthe fact that all the occurrences in social life are carried out by living men, and that men complete the process of development by placing aims before themselves and by striving to realise these aims.

The standpoints of the social theorist and of him who deals practically in social life are entirely different; but men constantly interchange the two. For the theorist, social development is a necessary sequence of cause and effect, as he sees it in the shaping of life compulsorily by the motives of the persons involved; and these motives themselves he tries to understand in their limitations. For him social life is a process rather of the past. But for the man who deals practically in social life, it lies in the future. What the theorist understands as the working of specified causes is, to the practical man, an object lying in the future which his will should help to accomplish. This very will is a necessary element in the causation of social happening. And this will, conditioned as it may be, is the highest personal possession of man in action. As the social theorist seeks to show as necessary specific tendencies of the will, and with them specific developments of the social life, he can do thiswith the self-evident limitation that the energy of the practical man in creating and accomplishing these efforts of the will does not fail. If for any reason, for example through the pressure of quietistic sentiment, this energy should be lessened, the most important link in the assumed chain of causes would drop out, and the development would take an entirely different course. It is a great mistake to apply unqualifiedly to social life the idea of a process in accordance with natural law; for example, to say that socialism must come by a "necessity of nature." Socialism has nothing to do with any such necessity. Thus, for example, we cannot see why the development of capitalism should not lead just as well to the overthrow of modern culture. And it must surely take this course if the leaders of advance do not develop during the transformation of the social life the necessary qualities for a new order of society, if they allow themselves to sink into a marasmus or quietism. For them, all social happening is only a condition to be created: and in order to accomplish this in the future they need an energy of resolution.

In close connection with the point of whichwe have just spoken stands another matter, which also in the last analysis depends upon a right understanding of the essence of social evolution. I refer to the confusion of "ideal" and "programme"—the substitution of politics for idealism. I mean this: superficial evolutionists, especially in the ranks of the Marxists, are inclined to look with supreme contempt upon idealists and enthusiasts, and to rest only upon practical politics; they emphasise the rational to the exclusion of the ideal. That is a conception which does not at all harmonise with the real meaning of evolution. For evolution wants its highest social ideals to be realised, but these are founded only upon postulates essentially ethical. To realise these ideals it is necessary to become inspired, to kindle a heart's glow, to develop a fire of enthusiasm. The warming sun must shed its beams, if all is not to go under and become darkened—with danger of the annihilation of all life. The word of the dying St. Simon, with which he took departure from his favourite scholar Rodriguez, is eternally true: "Never forget, my friend, that a man must have enthusiasm in order to accomplish great things." When this idealism and enthusiasm disappearfrom a movement, when its impetus is lost, when it passes into a littleness of opportunism, into an emptiness of small politics, it dies like a body without life. And it is certainly one of the most unpleasant traits of many of the modern representatives of the proletarian movement, that in the dusty atmosphere of common politics they have lost their enthusiasm and have sunk to the level of political malcontents.

But on the other side, we must not confuse idealism with fantasy or utopism. Enthusiasm for an object should be combined with common sense. In the one is warmth, in the other clearness; in the one lies the ideal, in the other the programme, that will offer ways and means for reaching the end.

Only when we learn to distinguish between these two fundamental thoughts shall we be able to unite ideal enthusiasm with practical common sense. For as the confusion of programme with ideal tends on the one side to a decline into useless commonplace, so on the other side it leads to a crippling of practical activity. But he who learns to distinguish the road from the goal will see that tireless exertion is needed in order to press towards the mark. An understanding of the importanceand necessity of gradual reform is only awakened as a deeper insight into the worth and essence of the ideal is obtained.

It must be allowed that a certain contradiction will remain in any full understanding of the evolution idea in a social movement. We cannot avoid the fact that the sceptical pessimist stands by the side of the light-hearted optimist; that there will always be some who hope for a speedy entrance into the promised land, while others are of the opinion that the march thereto lies through the wilderness and will last long. Hence the differences of position that men take regarding what we call practical reforms. Men who believe that we are about to move into a new building will not be willing to try to improve the old structure; but those who think that the new edifice may be long in rising will be contented to live for a while longer as comfortably as possible in the old structure. This contradiction is in the nature of man. It will continue ineradicable. It is enough for a man to be conscious of its existence.

What we have learned to recognise thus far of antithesis rests upon essentially different conceptions of the essence of socialdevelopment or upon different interpretations of one of these conceptions—the evolutionary. Let me now, in a few words, speak of a matter which rests upon the different interpretations—at least when they arise to consciousness—which men place upon the progress and the direction of social development. This contradiction rests upon a variation of ideal, and consequently of programme; and it may be expressed in the antithesisdemocratic or socialistic. In order to understand properly this most important contradiction, which to-day stands as the central point of discussion and which finds its acutest expression in the exciting "agrarian question," I must remind you of something said heretofore—at that hour when I spoke to you concerning the necessary limitation of the proletarian-socialistic ideal. You remember that there I specified as a necessary condition for the development of socialism as the object of the modern social movement, the previous development of capitalism and with it the impoverishment of the masses. There must be a thorough proletarian condition.

But now consider the following. When the proletariat sets up this object upon the basisof its economic conditions of existence, how will the proletariat conduct itself with all those strata of society who have not this same basis of economic existence? What will be the relation of the proletariat to those masses who are not yet made proletarian in character—as, for example, the lower middle-classes? And there is a question yet more important—What will be the relation of the proletariat to that part of the people, thedemos, who cannot possibly ever have a tendency towards becoming proletarian? Here arises the great dilemma, and this is the deep contradiction which comes here to expression: Shall the aim of the proletariat remain essentially and preponderantly proletarian, or shall it become on the whole democratic? And further, if the working-men's party will interest itself in all these component parts of thedemos, how shall the proletariat conduct itself with them? If there is to be a general democratic "people's party," what then becomes of the proletarian programme? For this is clear: the whole reason for the existence of socialistic agitation, as it is to-day attempted, with the cry of a "need of nature" in the economic development, falls to the ground in the moment when this economic development doesnot lead to the proletarianisation of the masses and to the communisation of the processes of production—to mercantile operations on a large scale. If socialism is postulated upon any other grounds of ethics or expediency, it cannot be "scientific" in the thought of the day. Here, as I believe, lies the justification for the antithesis "socialistic or democratic." And in the opposition of these two general thoughts, each of which is represented within the social movement, is expressed that deeply lying conflict of which we speak.

How these tendencies will settle themselves we cannot yet clearly see.

I believe that the following considerations may tend towards a clearing of the situation.

The whole strength of the social movement, all chances for the final victory of its ideas, so far as I see, rest upon the fact that it proposes to be the representative of the highest form of economic life at every period of production upon the largest scale. It tries to climb upon the shoulders of the bourgeoisie, who are now the representatives of the most highly developed forms of economy; and it thinks that it will be able to overtop. History teaches us that what we call advance hasalways been only change to a higher system of economy, and that those classes thrive who represent this higher system. Behind capitalism there is no "development"; possibly there may be ahead. The degree of production which has been reached by it must in any case be rivalled by any party that will secure the future for itself. In that is shown, I think, the standard of any advance movement.

If the social democracy is to maintain its historic mission, if it is to be a party of advance, it must avoid compromise with the notoriously declining classes, as the hand-workers and other economically low organisations. Even a temporary compact with them is dangerous. It will not be admissible, also, to change the programme and goal of the social movement to suit the middle-class elements that have crept in, if that great aim of production upon the largest scale shall be held fast—because we know positively that their hand-work represents in general a low form of economy. But now the other side of the question. If there are spheres in economic life which are not to be subjected to this process of communisation, because the smaller method of business is under the conditions moreprofitable than the larger,—how about the farmer? That is the whole problem which to-day stands before the social democracy as the "agrarian question." Must the communistic ideal of production on a large scale, and the developed programme connected with it, undergo any essential change as applied to the peasantry? And if a man reaches the conclusion that in agrarian development no tendency to production on a large scale exists, but that here operation on a large scale is not at all the highest form of management, then we see before us the decisive question—Shall we now be democratic in the sense of allowing production on a small scale in this sphere and thus change our programme and desert the communistic ideal; or shall we remain proletarian, hold fast to the communistic ideal and exclude this class from our movement? In this case the former decision would not be reactionary, because, in spite of the acceptance of that lower middle-class element into the movement, it is not necessary to come down from the level of production that has been reached in the spheres of industry that have been communised.

I have here been obliged to speakdoubtfully because thus far, so far as I know, there is no certainty either as to the tendency of development among the agriculturalists or as to the form of management, nor are we certain as to whether any specific form of agrarian production is the superior. But, so far as I see, the Marxian system breaks down on this point; the deductions of Marx are not applicable to the sphere of agriculture without change. He has said much of importance concerning agrarian matters; but his theory of development, which rests upon an assumption of business upon a large scale and upon the proletarianising of the masses, and which necessarily leads to socialism in its development, is only for the sphere of manufactures. It does not apply to agricultural development; and to me it seems that only a scientific investigation will be able to fill the gap which now exists.

Of far-reaching importance, and at this moment of pressing interest, are two points which I would present in conclusion. I mean the attitude of the social movement towards religion and towards nationality. Because here personal feeling and temperament may easily interfere with the clear vision of the observer, it is doubly necessary to divest oneself of allpassion and to deal with these problems objectively. Let us make the attempt. Leaving out of consideration the English working-man, who to-day, as a generation ago, seems to oscillate between pietism and positivism, and who on this point cannot be considered typical because of the well-known peculiar conditions of his development, the proletarian movement doubtless is strongly anti-religious. How comes this?

So far as I see, the opposition to religion comes from two different sources: it has a "theoretical" and a "practical" origin. Theoretically the proletariat and its leaders have become heirs of the liberal "age of illumination." Out of a superficial study of natural sciences have sprung all these anti-religious writings of the years 1860-1880 which in an intoxication of joy announced the first recognition of the atheistic dogma to the world. These writers never rose above the level of "itinerant preachers of materialism," and they have never reached to the level of the Marx-Engels conception of life. The platform of this dogmatic atheism may be considered to-day as entirely something of the past. There is no earnest representative of science anywhere who to-day dares to assert that science means atheism andexcludes religion. Thus the attitude of the proletariat towards religion would be entirely free and independent if the ground of its irreligion were merely a theoretic and misleading incursion into the dogmatism of natural science. But the enmity to religion has much deeper grounds. Not only has an enthusiasm for scientific materialism taken hold of the proletariat with special force; but also the enthusiasm for unbelief has been helped greatly in its development by the instinctive feeling, or the clear consciousness, that in the materialistic conception of the world lies the germ of a mighty revolutionary force, well suited to drive authority from all spheres of life. What wonder that the proletariat took hold of it as a useful weapon for the strife; for, as we know, one of the conditions of the very existence of the proletariat lies in a tearing asunder of all the old points of faith. Thus the predilection for materialism and atheism is well explained.

And now consider that the acceptance of this dogma betokens a protest against the Christian system of thought, which the working man must look upon as inimical because represented by the ruling classes and used in their interests. For there can be no doubtthat, in an overwhelming majority of cases, official Christianity has been used by the ruling classes against the movement for the emancipation of the proletariat. The fate that falls upon heretical Christians is the best proof of this. So long as men try to support monarchy and capitalism as a necessary and Divine institution, using the Christian Church for this purpose, the social movement must become anti-ecclesiastical and thus anti-religious. Thus a mistrust as to the position, in the social struggle, of the official representatives of the Church estranges the proletariat from this Church and thus from religion. In the moment that this mistrust is removed—and you all know that the new Christian-socialists, especially in Germany, have taken this as their task,—in the moment when Christianity is presented either as unpartisan in its social influence, as Goehre preaches it, or as directly social-democratic, as Naumann presents it,—in that moment, so far as I see, there will be no reason why the proletariat should maintain an anti-religious character.

In saying this, of course, I assume that religion is adapted to the needs of the proletariat. Whether or not Christianity possesses thisadaptability, I do not dare to say. But that it is thus adapted would seem to be indicated by the fact that it became the religion of Rome in its decadence and of the German tribes in the youthful freshness of their civilisation, of feudalism as well as of those stages of civilisation in which the free cities and later the bourgeoisie have had predominance. Then why may it not also be the religion of the proletariat? But it must be presented to the lower classes with all of the joy of life of which Christianity is capable. For the element of asceticism in Christianity pleases little these classes, which press towards air and light and which do not show any inclination to allow the good things of life to be taken from them.

As if overhung with thick clouds of passion, appears now the question as to the attitude of the social movement towards nationality. A great part of the heated discussion on this point, as it seems to me, is due to lack of clearness in thought. It is not so much our German language, as it is our German instinct, that distinguishes between two ideas, rightly but not always sharply separated; we are accustomed to specify them aspatriotismandnationalism.

Patriotism, the love of the Fatherland, is indeed a feeling that unconsciously and without effort is held fast in our hearts, and exists therein like love of home and of family. It is an aggregation of impressions, of memories, over which we have no control. It is that indefinable power exercised upon our souls by the sound of the mother tongue, by the harmony of the national song, by many peculiar customs and usages, by the whole history and poetry of the home land. It is that feeling which comes to its fulness only in a strange land, and presses as truly upon the soul of the exiled revolutionist as upon that of the peaceful citizen. I cannot see why this should be the heritage of a particular class. It is a foolish idea that such a feeling may, or can, die out in the great masses of men, so long as there are lands and peoples with their own languages and songs.

Quite different is nationalism—the intelligent presentation, if I may so express it, of national opinion, especially in opposition and enmity to other nations. The modern proletariat does not simply refuse to share this feeling; it actually fights against it.

Here again we meet the same fact that weobserved before in connection with the attitude of the proletariat towards religion; they identify the idea of "nationalism" with the ruling classes, and as enemies of the representatives of the idea they turn their hatred against the idea itself. Especially is this so because, in many lands, it is not made easy for the rising working-men's movement to identify itself with the official representatives of the nation; hate, persecution, repression, are not suitable means to arouse pride in that national structure in which the working men must live together with those from whom all this evil proceeds. At the same time a friendly hand is reached over the national boundary-line by the proletariat of a strange and unfriendly land, by companions in suffering, with similar interests and efforts. Truly it is no wonder that the modern proletariat generally becomes imbued with an anti-national, an international, tendency.

But I hold it to be quite wrong to justify an anti-national theory by this impulsive anti-nationalism. I see in the essence of modern socialism no reason for such an idea. I have explicitly pointed out to you the tendency towards an international understanding and unity on the part of the proletariat. But thatis only an artificial abolition of national barriers. Only one who chases after the phantom of a world republic will be able to imagine a social development outside of national limitations. A man will hardly venture to prophesy with certainty, even for only a short time, as to when the social contradictions within a nation shall rival those points of difference at present existing between nations. But it must be clear even to the short-sighted that, so far as we can see, an energetic upholding of national interests can never be entirely unnecessary.

Even if in Western Europe the differences between nations should be so far obviated that only social questions remain in the field, I believe that we could never assume that this Western European civilisation can pursue its course undisturbed and without the admixture of other elements. We must never forget that, as a result of modern means of communication, not only Russian civilisation threatens that of Western Europe, but even the Asiatic more and more strongly presses upon us. The development in Asia which we have seen in the course of the last decade, the rapid advancement of Japan, and now theattempt of China to enter civilisation in order to nibble at the fruits of commerce and to grow out of its narrow circle—this development will doubtless take a course which must of necessity lead to new international complications. I believe that the moment will come when European society as a whole will say to itself: All our mutual differences are of no importance as compared with that which threatens us from this enemy. As an indication of this see the attitude of America towards Asiatic development. There is a case in which the "internationalism" of the proletariat is simply thrown aside; and this would be the case also among the proletariat of Western Europe, if the coolies should begin to swarm over us like rats. An artificial sympathy with the most downtrodden people would prove too weak to restrain a sound national self-interest. So soon as a common enemy threatens the existence of a society it becomes again conscious of its economic interests and rallies to their support; and in the meantime its internal differences are forgotten.

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