Georg Lukacs The Struggle of Humanism and Barbarism. 1943
The predatory attack of Japan on the United States and England fully revealed the socio-historical essence of the current world war: a struggle is taking place between progressive democracies – in many ways fundamentally different – and the “axis” uniting all reactionary autocratic states.
In order to determine the decisive chances of this world struggle in the dramatic change of military successes and failures, it will be most necessary and correct to compare the economic reserves and resources of both belligerents. The balance obtained in this way testifies to the annihilating superiority of the democratic powers. The corresponding figures have already been published and analyzed frequently: they are known to the reader.
We know that these figures are only an indicator of possible material reserves. It is important during a war to be able to translate them into action. This brings us to another, no less serious question – about the social and moral reserves that can be mobilized. The question of under what balance of internal social forces and by what social methods the state is waging a war is undoubtedly decisive for its outcome. This is the question of those “permanently operating factors” that Comrade Stalin speaks of in his historic order of February 23, 1942 [1]. Given the technical parity in armaments, this very moment is undoubtedly decisive. Furthermore, there are historical periods in which the progressive nature of the social system paralyzed the enemy’s military superiority or even led to its collapse. Let us recall the wars of the great French revolution against the Austro-Prussian reactionary coalition; let us recall the heroic resistance of the Chinese revolution to Japanese imperialism.
The question of what the social strength of democracies means in terms of military potential has become especially relevant in this war as well. The initial successes of Hitler’s “blitzkrieg” confused some, or, at any rate, made them ponder. At the beginning of the world war, a sharp contrast arose between the rapid aggressive actions of authoritarian states and the hesitation and slowness of the bourgeois democratic powers not only in entering the war, but also in conducting it, even in those phases in which the enemy threatened their vital interests, their very existence. This contrast has led many to believe that fascist states are better suited to modern warfare than democracies. Many sincere supporters of democracy came to such conclusions with deep regret and quietly cowardly doubted the social strength and potential of democracy.
Subsequent military events gradually began to refute this opinion. It turned out that the initial setbacks of democratic states are partly a consequence of the wrong policies of some leaders (Deladier) and have nothing to do with the fundamental relationship of forces between democracies and autocracies, but partly they are actually connected with the essential moments of democratic politics. Let’s take a closer look at them.
During the years of the pre-war economic crisis, Japan and Germany were the only capitalist countries where production figures rose continuously (although the consumption level of the population was falling). This kind of “exception” from the laws of economic development of bourgeois society was understandable to everyone: it was explained by the fact that the intense preparation of these states for the planned aggression temporarily made their heavy industry, the military industry in the broadest sense of the word, independent of normal conditions of growth and decline.
This kind of subordination of the entire economy and the entire life of the people for the forthcoming aggressive war, such a burden of the entire people with military casualties even before the start of the war is something that no democracy could afford, and no democracy in the world will want to impose on its country. The strength of democracy lies in the fact that in difficult times, with a real threat to the homeland, it can demand extraordinary sacrifices from the people. But this is possible only if the broadest masses of the people clearly see that the country is really under threat and really needs their sacrifice. True, there are dangers in that direction too: while autocracies require the exertion of popular forces even in peacetime, bourgeois democracies may, in the face of a threat that has already come, hesitate for too long before resorting to emergency measures.
This structural difference between democracy and autocracy is so obvious that it did not escape even the gaze of such a gifted statesman with a strong autocratic, anti-democratic bias, such as Bismarck: he often said that preparation for the conduct of a preventive war is impossible in a country like Germany. at a time when Germany had a parliament and universal suffrage. With such a structure of democracy, it is generally much more difficult to decide on a war than it is for an autocratic state.
Consideration of the social reasons for the initial failures of bourgeois democracies in a real war to some extent illuminates the flip side of this issue – the social superiority of democracies, which in the process of war (albeit sometimes at a slow pace) turns into military superiority.
The notorious military innovation of fascism, the so-called lightning war, in this light acquires a new color, and largely loses its social, political and strategic originality. Only the technical and tactical means of its implementation remain original. Lightning war is essentially a means that should paralyze the final social superiority of the enemy through quick, purely military success, that is, defeat the enemy’s military forces before he has time to mobilize and organize his social forces and move on to active operations on the battlefield.
In this sense, the famous Schlieffen plan in 1914 was also a plan for a lightning war: it strove for the occupation of Paris, the military destruction of France before the Allies mobilized and used their military forces. Frederick II’s sudden attack on Saxony could also be called a lightning war, if his opponents were not the same autocratic sovereigns – so that he could only talk about an attempt strategically to equalize the dissimilar military forces of similar social structures.
When considering the Schlieffen plan, some of the social weaknesses of non-democracies are clearly visible. It is known that the Schlieffen plan was based, on the one hand, on the fact that the left flank of the German army was weakened as much as possible (temporary abandonment of Alsace-Lorraine), on the other hand, on operations on the eastern front being purely defensive, taking into account the likelihood of a significant retreat. But the semi-autocratic state of the Hohenzollerns could not afford both of these sacrifices. The advancing right wing of the German army was weakened from the very beginning by the strong defense of Alsace-Lorraine, and when the impression was created that East Prussia would have to be evacuated, two more army corps were pulled from the decisive battlefields in France and thrown against the Russians.
Here the point is not in the specifically military side of the Schlieffen plan, which was so “diluted” in its practical implementation. We recalled these facts, mainly because they revealed the main weakness of autocratic states: the need to maintain prestige always and everywhere and very often to sacrifice the objective need to the requirements of prestige.
It is not a matter of accidental mistakes of individual monarchs or commanders, but of the social essence of autocracy, in which the authority of the central government is based not on voluntary agreement with the will of the majority of the people, but on blind obedience, on thoughtless submission, on artificially implanted blind faith in the “divine” election of the dictator. Therefore, it is extremely significant and not accidental that most of the German people learned about the defeat on the Marne only after the end of the world war, while Clemenceau and Lloyd George frankly informed the people of the Entente’s own defeats, in order to thus strengthen the decisive will to victory among the broad masses.
The political situation is similar in modern warfare. If truthful information is also possible in bourgeois-democratic countries – it is true, in certain, extreme cases, while their governments represent the will of a bourgeois-democratic nation for self-defense – then it is clear that in a classless socialist society, unconditional frankness prevails to an incomparably greater degree as a means of mobilizing all the forces of the people in the name of the socialist revolution. The speeches of Lenin and Stalin during the harsh years of the civil war and intervention, the speeches of Stalin during the Patriotic War of the Soviet people against fascism are vivid and unforgettable examples of the successful mobilization of the people at the front and in the rear on the basis of unconditional exposure of all difficulties and dangers.
Already the first phase of the world war with the rapid tactical successes of Nazi Germany showed that history is repeating itself in this respect. The strategic failures of the attack on England in 1940 and on the Suez Canal in 1941 were completely hushed up by the Nazis. And after their defeat in 1942 near Moscow and Leningrad, that typical propaganda of lies began, the suppression of important facts, the perversion of the real causes of events, etc., which are so characteristic of the military propaganda of Wilhelm II’s Germany (which was, generally speaking, more primitive than Hitler’s). The social boundaries of the “politics of prestige” appear only in difficult situations: as long as there are military successes, the autocratic system may seem stronger, but its deadly weakness is immediately revealed when it is unable to get out of the difficult situation on its own.
It may be useful to return to a less complex historical situation in order to reveal the social essence of this contrast. The military failures of the French revolution and the general popular indignation caused by them, resulted in the slogan “The Fatherland is in danger.” Militarily, this slogan became the starting point for the creation of a permanent people’s army, Carnot’s “organization of victory”; on the other hand, on its basis, the Jacobins brought to the end the democratic transformations within the country (both processes are closely related). And it is natural that the Leninist-Stalinist slogan “The socialist fatherland is in danger” could not fail to cause a colossal upsurge of heroism, initiative, activity of the masses, free both nationally and socially.
In contrast to this, Prussian absolutism, after the defeat at Jena and Auerstedt, threw out the slogan: “Calm is the first civic duty.” And if this slogan of maintaining an autocratic regime had been put into practice, if the Prussian people had agreed that the “limited mind of a subject” should only blindly obey, Prussia would have perished completely under the blows of Napoleon. Only because Stein, Scharnorst, Gneisenau [2] did not consider obedience to be the most important civic duty, only because they, albeit on a limited scale and for the wrong purposes, carried out social reforms that made it possible to mobilize the broad masses – the military regeneration of Prussia became possible.
The “wisdom” of Hitler and Goebbels at the present time consists only in the fact that they repeated in other words the Prussian slogan, which was already obsolete a century ago.
An article in the National Zeitung provides interesting material illustrating the Stalinist thesis of permanently operating factors. It says: “The decisive thing now is the discipline of the nation, which should not ask the question: why, but obey the highest principles.” The newspaper complains that “not all Germans have sufficiently strong nerves, mental resilience and the ability to endure to the end.” We will not dwell here on the question that engulfs the German press that the “strength of nerves” of the Germans is just as depleting as their reserves of raw materials, that they are just as subject to inflation as their money. After the Nazis have tortured the nerves of the Germans for nine years, after the boots of the guards and the Gestapo have trampled them for nine years, the surprise of Goebbels and Co. sounds like an involuntary and unconscious mockery that these nerves are now out of order.
We are now interested in the healing measures that the fascists are taking to restore “strength of nerves.” They are like the former Prussian reactionaries in that they do not allow the “limited intellect of their subjects” (as Frederick William IV said) to interfere in the affairs of the nation; the only possible social state of the country in which they can continue to conduct their affairs is complete tranquility, like the tranquility of a prison or a cemetery.
But fascists differ from former reactionaries in that they live in more enlightened times. And that is precisely why salvation and regeneration through reforms are impossible for them: they can continue to rule only by their barbaric and despotic method, or they will have to die ingloriously, disappear without a trace.
The opportunity for the Germans to ask the question “why” would mean, under all circumstances, the beginning of the end of German fascism. If the Germans were allowed, albeit to a limited extent, to ask “why,” then all the adventures of Hitler’s foreign policy would inevitably surface. Then his military adventures, all his statements that the victory over France would inevitably “bring England to her knees,” that lightning war would destroy the Soviet Union within a few weeks or months would have to be brought up for discussion. If the question “why” had arisen, it would inevitably have spread to the internal political foundations of the entire system: it would have been asked about the social crimes of fascism against the German people.
The “why” question is a chemical that reveals the health or putrefaction of a political system. The question “why,” put before the people, means for the social system either a new rise in strength, or death.
When the fascist armies invaded deep into Russia, and later, when they threatened Moscow, Stalin, in connection with the danger threatening the peoples of the Soviet Union, most energetically raised the question “why.” And he not only raised this question, but also answered it in a language understandable to hundreds of millions. And his answer to the question “why” became the main means for mobilizing forces, for a new patriotic industrial, agricultural and military upsurge of the Soviet people. This response aroused unprecedented activity in many millions, aroused the enthusiasm of the masses at the front and in the rear. Thanks to an honest and ingenious answer to the question “why,” Stalin became the organizer of victory.
In a moment of danger, this is the only possible way to transform the forces of a great and cultured people into fruitful and salutary activity. For the fascist regime, such a path, as we see, is impossible. For only a government that is beloved, or at least respected and recognized by the people, can in this form pose the question “why” as the starting point for awakening the forces of the people. For the fascist regime, the old Prussian formula about the “limited minds of subjects” remains valid, because if the fascists dare to open any valve, this can lead to a catastrophic explosion of discontent, disappointment and irritation accumulated over the years.
This general contrast is naturally explained by the social essence of democracy and autocracy, no matter how different their social content may be in the course of historical development. The decisive moment is undoubtedly the internal unity of the broadest popular masses and the democratic system of government, the general feeling that this political system is part of their own life, while in any autocracy the state is opposed to the masses as an alien force and is surrounded by a religious and mythical halo.
It inevitably follows from this that under both systems, a difficult military situation, a crisis of national existence, has an opposite effect on the mood of the masses. Under the normal state of affairs in bourgeois democracies, the existing government system is perceived as something familiar, but under the influence of hard blows of fate among the masses, conscious devotion, love and readiness for sacrifices arise. Under absolutism, on the other hand, a critical situation undermines the religious or mythical authority of the authorities. Hence the need for a “policy of prestige,” especially fatal at dangerous moments.
Therefore, criticism of the government in both cases is diametrically opposite in essence and leads to opposite consequences. In bourgeois democracy, it is the self-defense of the people and precisely for this reason it is one of the most effective mobilization forces. This influence of self-criticism is especially evident during revolutionary crises of democracies. This was the case during the French Revolution (1789-1793), during the Hungarian Revolution of 1848-1849, during the struggle of the Northern states of America against the slave-owning South.
In imperialist states, however, criticism of the government by the people always tends to disintegrate the system. A limited, but extremely conscientious autocrat, the Russian Tsar Nicholas I therefore forbade even literary praise to his person through censorship. In doing so, he proceeded from the consistent premise that the right to praise includes the right to censure, therefore criticism should be stifled at the root, in the stage of praise.
Such a social state of autocracies, the inevitable separation of power from the masses, explains the “unexpected” collapse of powerful autocratic military states that has been observed more than once in history. It occurs when the discontent of the population, which was suppressed for a long time, manifested itself only underground and percolating with difficulty, at a critical moment turns against the despotic system.
The famous words of the great military theorist Clausewitz: “War is the continuation of politics by other means!” is not only a brilliant definition of war; it also provides a social explanation for the structure of states in peacetime, viewed retrospectively from the wartime point of view.
Within the framework of our presentation, it is impossible to touch on a number of the most important problems; therefore, let us cite Balzac’s wonderful and profound observation, which is to a certain extent a condensed symbolic description of this difference.
Balzac, whose personal sympathies were on the side of the legitimate royal power, in a number of novels depicts the activities of the French police from the absolutist ancien regime to the bourgeois July monarchy. He establishes that the police apparatus and methods of its work remained largely the same during the rapid change of government systems in France, this was expressed, in his opinion, even in the fact that the same persons remained in leadership positions. This is manifested in him in the historical figure of Fouché [3], the fictional images of the Koranten and Peyrida. In this, Balzac’s understanding of history coincides with the point of view of Tocqueville, who saw in bourgeois France the direct heir to the policy of centralization pursued by an absolute monarchy.
But Balzac sees one break in this line of development: a great revolution. During this period, he says, there was essentially no professional police, at least no professional political police, since its duties were carried out by the entire revolutionary people. If we compare this aphorism with another statement of Balzac, in which he calls the insurgent peasantry a twenty-million-armed Robespierre, if we recall, furthermore, the research of Ollard and his school on the activities of the Jacobin club that swept the whole of France, then a concrete picture of what a true democracy can bring to the fight against the internal enemy through organizing the people’s enthusiasm. (This factor of popular enthusiasm in Soviet democracy operates on an incomparably larger scale and at an immeasurably higher quality level.)
The massive upsurge of the French Revolution clearly showed what it means to adapt popular energy to the needs of war. It contains the key to understanding the invincibility of the French Revolution and Napoleon. And this truth is even more confirmed by their defeats. The less Napoleon acted as the heir to the French Revolution, the more difficult it was for him to mobilize the broad masses of the French for military purposes, and he was defeated exactly where his conquests caused a real popular movement (Spain, Prussia after 1806, Russia in 1812), in which the same mobilization of the masses, the same mass enthusiasm and thus the same strategy that had worked in revolutionary France was now being used by other peoples against the French.
It is no coincidence that in the course of history, democracy and universal conscription grow on the same soil, and that the victory of the democratic principle gives rise to national wars in contrast to the wars of an absolute monarchy (the principle of the latter was expressed by Frederick II in the words “the people should not even notice that a war is being waged, for war is the business of monarchs and their personal army”).
Frederick II’s period was undoubtedly the golden age of this autocratic principle. Since the victories of the French Revolution, every autocratic system has been forced to organize its army in the spirit of universal conscription. But it is the history of the Stein-Gneisenau-Scharnorst reforms in Germany that shows that the transition to universal military service cannot be a purely military-technical measure, but must be based on certain social and political prerequisites (the abolition of serfdom in Prussia, etc.).
It would be very interesting to study the history of the resulting interaction of military and domestic political factors. It would be especially interesting to show how the increase and decrease in the fighting efficiency of Prussia was associated with the uneven elimination of the remnants of feudalism, with the struggle for the national unification of Germany, with the introduction of universal suffrage during the Bismarck-Moltke wars.
This interaction is even more complex nowadays. It has changed in the sense that the most important fascist states, and first of all Germany, have brought universal military service to its limits. In order to socially exploit at least the first period of a successful blitzkrieg, they use an extremely broad and sophisticated national and social demagogy. On the other hand, the geographical position of some important bourgeois democracies (England, America) allows them to do without general military service in peacetime. This is one of the important reasons for their inevitable military failures at first. The connection between the democratic system and universal conscription as the mobilization of all the energy of a nation whose vital interests are in danger is expressed precisely in the introduction or restoration of universal military service during the war. The decisiveness with which the mobilization and deployment of troops is carried out is a certain measure of how much a given democracy is capable of protecting the important historical interests of the people. And – contrary to the opinion of some limited military experts – the improvised armies of England and the United States, already since the First World War, proved themselves at least as worthy opponents of the German army.
The strength of democracy, which is especially clearly manifested precisely during a national crisis, does not consist only in the ability to quantitatively mobilize the forces of the people; with good organization of its own, this or that autocracy may temporarily succeed. But the essence of the matter lies in the qualitative mobilization of the latent energy of the people. Let us recall again the classical period of modern Western European democracy, the French revolution: how it propelled in a short time lieutenants, sergeants and privates of the old army into genius commanders. In this sense, Napoleon, indeed, is only the heir and pupil of the French revolution (the officers he nominated already as emperor were significantly inferior in the number of talents to the cadres selected by the revolution itself). In the war of the North and South in America, where the Northern states relied on democratic forces, the same picture emerged.
This is an important reason for the superiority of democracies. German defenders of the Wilhelmian regime, opponents of democracy, often polemicized against this opinion. The sociologist Michels [4] even tried to show that the presence of democratic parties, by virtue of their essence, inevitably leads to a loss of flexibility in the organization, to a poor choice of gifted people. Michels’ mistake in this line of thought was that he tried to deduce general laws that reject democracy because of the decadent tendencies of bourgeois-democratic systems, without revealing their specific social roots. On the other hand, he limited his study of decline and stabilization only to the analysis of democratic parties, not opposing democracy and autocracy in all the complexity of their modern interaction.
In this respect, the pre-war German sociologist Max Weber was much more perceptive. Although in some respects his criticism coincided with the criticism of Michels, he still saw a serious danger threatening the semi-democratic Germany of the time in the fact that its political structure was not able to stimulate the identification of truly reasonable, outstanding politicians, diplomats, strategists (as opposed to military-technical specialists); therefore, he feared that in decisive questions of diplomacy and war, the “dilettantes” who were promoted to leading positions by the political life of democracies would infinitely surpass the “specialists” of Germany. It is curious that in the case of such a significant scientific figure of pre-war Germany as Michels, who was initially strongly anti-democratic, it was precisely in connection with the study of this range of problems towards the end of his life that he began to lean more and more decisively towards democratic views.
In the eyes of reactionary historians or sociologists, periods of great democratic mobilization are always periods of anarchy (recall Taine’s portrayal of the French Revolution.) The superficiality and shortsightedness of such analyses is obvious: never has the central government in a country been so strong inside, so combat-ready, comprehensive, so quickly reacting to events – as in such “anarchic” periods.
On the other hand, everyone who knows at least a little on the history of absolute monarchy knows that usually, the more power was concentrated in the hands of an absolute monarch, the less was its influence on the practice of governing the country. The trifles on which such a clever absolute monarch like Frederick II of Prussia wasted his time look tragicomic: at the same time, the most important economic issues were resolved independently of his will, to a certain extent spontaneously. It is comical to recall how little real power the Russian tsars had, how little real power could be wielded, say, by Nicholas I, who quite clearly saw the contamination and corruption of his own apparatus. To see this contrast quite clearly, it suffices to contrast it with the real power of the Committee of Public Safety during the French Revolution.
If we turn to the recent past, we will see that during the First World War, in the hands of Clemenceau or Lloyd George, in fact, there was power that significantly exceeded the power of Wilhelm II in volume and intensity. The latter had a decorum of concentrated personal power, but behind him most of the “specialists” decided whatever they wanted. At the same time, where the government embodied and concentrated the mobilization of democratic forces, where the dynamics of power went from the bottom up and again radiated from the top down, the government with such interaction became strong and fruitful.
Of course, fascism is not an old-style autocracy. It seeks to use all methods worked out by democracy and even by socialist development on influencing the masses, mobilizing them and making them constituent parts of its barbaric-reactionary yet modernized autocratic system. This demagogic and deceitful use of the principles created by democracy initially helped fascism achieve political and military success. But it is impossible to build a solid and truly combat-ready system on deception and clever propagandistic lies that seek to present the severe internal contradictions of class interests as a “people’s community.” Fascism has more than once experienced crises (for example, the conflict with the SA in 1934), in which a contradiction of interests really manifested itself. And the greater the demands are being made on the fascist system by decisive battles in modern war, the more will events force it not to deceive the people with the illusion of quick and easy victories, but to really mobilize all their energy for a desperate struggle, the more sharply the contradiction of interests between the working masses and their “autocratic” tyrants will manifest itself.
As we have seen, people can be prohibited from asking why. But this prohibition only applies to public speech subjected to police control. Underground propaganda cannot be banned, and the more difficult the situation becomes, the more passionately the question “why” is asked in it. And this is the beginning of the end of the autocratic system. Dimitrov rightfully called fascism a fierce but fragile power.
The victory of the socialist revolution in Russia in 1917 sparked a discussion throughout Europe about the opposition between democracy and dictatorship. Anyone who has read and correctly understood Lenin’s book State and Revolution will reject such an abstract opposition. He will see, on the one hand, that bourgeois democracies are also a form of dictatorship and, on the other hand, that the reverse side, the basis for realizing socialism of the proletarian dictatorship, is the development of a new, especially broad, deeply penetrating into economic life, form of democracy – proletarian democracy.
The tasks of this work do not include a detailed analysis of the social essence of various forms of democracy, the well-known contradictions between bourgeois and proletarian democracy. We believe that the irreducible social and historical interaction between democracy and dictatorship, established by Lenin, provides guidance for the correct solution of this problem; in contrast to the useless, scholastic reflections of many bourgeois thinkers, it leads to the study of the actual dialectical contradictions of life. In the light of Lenin’s analysis, on the one hand, the opposition between democracies and autocracies within a class society is revealed; when fascism threatens the existence of bourgeois democracies, it fights against progressive tendencies existing in capitalist society, against culture and civilization, which humanity has created in the process of thousands of years of uneven and contradictory development. On the other hand, the dictatorship of the working class acts as the highest form of democracy that destroys class barriers and, instead of formal equality of people and peoples, creates true, concrete, essential equality, destroying all exploitation of man by man, leading people from their “prehistory” in class society to the present human history. This opposition necessarily complements our previous analysis: on the one hand, we see the superiority of any form of democracy over “totalitarianism,” superiority which also extends into the military sphere; on the other hand, we see a qualitative difference between formal bourgeois and socialist Soviet democracy.
In this regard, it is revealed whether bourgeois democracy corresponds to the stage of historical and social development on which the people stand, or whether it is outdated, does not correspond to the inclinations and interests of the masses, has turned into a shell covering the domination of an anti-national clique hostile to the people. Reserves for the regime are created not by a democratic form, but by the unity of the people expressed in it. It goes without saying that non-degenerate democratic forms also have their own history: in the historical process, the class base, social tasks, economic and cultural content, etc. change. Undoubtedly, the question of the stages of historical development is extremely important in solving these problems. But a detailed analysis of the differences arising in this way between democratic state forms is beyond the scope of our work.
The opinion widespread abroad, even in progressive circles, about the kinship of “absolute,” “dictatorial” systems is a dangerous, misleading phrase, since in this case states are considered divorced from their social base, from their connection with the people, from their democratic or anti-democratic essence. We have already shown that the state’s ability to rebuild its strength in the face of the greatest danger, precisely its ability to use the greatest danger as a source for the greatest mobilization of forces, are closely related to its democratic essence. Those who closely followed the events of the First World War should have noticed that the sequence in which the great imperialist-militarist monarchies collapsed was in direct proportion to the degree of their anti-democracy.
Of course, fascism is a dictatorship of a special kind, which cannot, in most ways, be put on a par with the monarchies of the Romanovs or Hohenzollerns. Fascism owes its seemingly greater adaptability to “total” mobilization to national and social demagogy, where it owes its ability to lead the broad masses of the people into a hypnotic trance, in which they temporarily forget about their real interests, in which all their good and bad qualities turn into hysterical atrocities, and the objectively existing insoluble contradictions between real national goals and the imperialist greed of the fascist ruling clique disappear in the eyes of the deceived masses. But this painful intoxication of the people can only last as long as it is not dispelled by the facts. If this happens – this is precisely the moment of the most serious danger at which the real democracies based on truth prove their strength – then the fascist system will have to collapse just like the previous absolute monarchies, which did not resort at all or resorted only to more primitive demagogy. The state is like Antaeus: only truth can be a source of strength for its development [5]. The logic of facts, perhaps with great difficulty and more slowly, will just as inevitably break the most refined system of lies, just as it shattered the clumsy fabrications of the old absolutism.
The one who laughs last laughs best. The initial successes of the fascist lightning war were inevitable, as was the relative slowness of the mobilization of popular forces by democracies. (Of course, behind this slowness there are also mistakes, omissions, accidents, etc., but that does not change the main line of historical development.)
But this war is approaching its culmination point, and here the action of permanent factors begins, that is, both the organizational weakness of the authoritarian system and the internal resilience, mobilization and restorative capacity of democracies are manifested. The victories of the Red Army near Moscow and Leningrad were a clear sign of the onset of the climax.
Thus, Soviet democracy has practically shown how the moral and material reserves of a free and great people are mobilized. With this mobilization, it also proved its advantages on the battlefields. And it is undoubtedly no coincidence that it was precisely in the face of Soviet democracy that fascism first encountered a superior enemy, who dispelled the legend of the military invincibility of fascism.
The long-term heroic resistance of the Chinese people to a technically superior aggressor is also an inspiring example of the popular strength of democracy.
The practice of military operations has not yet shown what the possibilities of the British and American democracies are. The future will show what kind of tension the threat to their vital national interests will cause. Hopefully, these great freedom-loving peoples will fully mobilize their potential state of power. Then the permanently operating factors of war will bring the final victory of culture over barbarism, freedom over oppression.
1. J. V. Stalin, Order of the Day No. 55,
2. Heinrich Friedrich Karl vom und zum Stein (1757-1831), Gerhard von Scharnhorst (1755-1813) and August Neidhardt von Gneisenau (1760-1831); Prussian political and military figures of the early 19th century, who, after Prussia’s 1806 defeat to Napoleon, proposed key political and military reforms, inspired by the successes of the French revolution (universal conscription, abolition of serfdom, emancipation of the Jews), which modernized the Prussian state and army leading to victories against Napoleon in 1813-15.
3. Joseph Fouché (1759-1820) was a French nobleman, revolutionary and statesman who served as Minister of Police under successive regimes of the Directory, the Consulate and the Empire, always known for his ferocity in suppressing internal rebellions.
4. Robert Michels (1876-1936) was a German-born sociologist who contributed to elite theory by describing the political behavior of intellectual elites. Belonging to the Italian school of elitism, he became an admirer of Mussolini and migrated to Italy becoming a naturalized Italian citizen and living there until his death.
5. In ancient Greek mythology, Antaeus was a wrestler who remained invincible as long as he remained in contact with his mother, the earth.