In recent years, every enthusiastic mass mobilization has inevitably been followed by bitter disillusionment. While the improvement of repressive techniques and the overwhelming legacy of systems of oppression are certainly contributing factors, there are other reasons for this phenomenon. Slave Cubela argues that in an age when people can be mobilized for mass protests at the push of a button, we no longer engage deeply enough with the art of revolution.
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If I understand ‘revolution’ here to mean a conscious, human-driven overthrow of existing political power structures, then this art seems to be in a sorry state at present. There are still revolutions in countries like Nepal, Bangladesh, and Madagascar. Unfortunately, these countries are not only less influential in global politics, but they also currently represent the revolutionary exception rather than the rule. In many different countries, including France – think of the Yellow Vest movement –as well as Egypt, Tunisia, Serbia, Turkey, Chile, and Indonesia, enthusiastic mass mobilization has consistently been followed by bitter disillusionment in recent years.
Iran’s situation is particularly striking in its deep tragedy. There, bloody and unsuccessful revolutionary attempts seem to repeat themselves every few years. Their desperate futility even provokes the suspicion that revolution might be a dying art. In what ways have protests by emancipatory movements, particularly those on the radical left, become less effective? How is it possible that crowds express their political discontent against those in power more often yet with greater futility? Most importantly, is this an irreversible development, or is there still hope for the art of revolution?
Desiring science
The answer to these questions is this: the political revolution crisis of the 21st century stems, in no small part, from the underestimation of this phenomenon. Much of the academic literature on the subject is biased. In particular, left-wing thought leaders oversimplify the revolutionary process. Additionally, 21st-century developments hinder intensive, action-oriented reflection on revolution.
First, let us take a look at revolutionary theory. After sifting through an abundance of titles that reflectively approach the phenomenon of revolution, one gets the impression that revolution is a mythical creature. This literature confirms that revolution exists. However, revolutionary theory raises more questions than it answers. For example: Are revolutions the result of economic crises? Does the success of revolutions depend on the formation of vanguard organizations? Or does the art of revolution lie in forming effective mass organizations capable of carrying out general strikes or large-scale demonstrations? Which social group is the driving force behind revolutions? Are there peaceful revolutions, even ‘velvet’ revolutions?
Rather than facilitating learning, the concept of revolution gradually dissolves during the reading process. However, I find it more illuminating to first acknowledge the wide range of revolutionary theories and grasp this phenomenon than to weigh the different perspectives. One helpful thought is that revolution is undoubtedly an emotionally charged phenomenon. Such phenomena almost always lead to polarization and bias, which cloud the understanding process. This applies to many authors who reject revolution. But it also applies to observers who affirm revolutions. In both cases, emotion predetermines the outcome of the analysis, ensuring that a significant portion of the literature on revolution is unusable as teaching material.
For revolution advocates, this manifests primarily in their writings, which are now considered classics. They imperceptibly blend what ought to be with the argument that it will necessarily come to pass. This conflation of what ought to be and what will be can be attributed to a range of factors extending well into the early 20th century. Forms of rule were more extreme. Revolutionary thinkers often experienced repression firsthand. Revolution was not yet a rare political phenomenon. However, the idea of the liberal right to resist state arbitrariness was also present in many minds, thereby fostering revolutionary sympathies even within the bourgeoisie, as in Tsarist Russia.
Accordingly, desire is also the source of many revolutionary ideas and theories on the left. For example, Karl Marx developed a crisis theory with largely piecemeal political implications, but ultimately held fast to it as the basis for revolution. The depth of this emotion is evident from the fact that researchers have found over 3,000 passages in Marx’s and Friedrich Engels’s works in which they made revolutionary predictions. Rosa Luxemburg distinguished herself particularly in her revolutionary theory writings on mass strikes, for which she ultimately paid with her life. She revealed her bias in the beautiful yet completely untheoretical statement: “The revolution is magnificent; everything else is nonsense.”
The skipped steps
However, it would be a mistake to overestimate the influence of romanticizing the image of the revolution on political protests. They certainly play a unconscious role, especially among activists, since conflating situational desirability with impending necessity makes the revolution seem far more feasible than it actually is. The problem of revolutionary naiveté can be observed long before the 21st century. For example, the absence of a revolution in industrialized Europe after World War I so frustrated the left that thinkers such as Karl Korsch and George Lukács offered critical analyses of orthodox Marxism. Similarly, exaggerated revolutionary optimism is evident in the 1968 revolt. During this time, many activists believed that a revolution in major industrialized nations was imminent, despite a period of peak prosperity under capitalism.
In the 21st century, however, the oversimplification of revolution has taken a significant toll. Media scholar Gal Beckerman explored this phenomenon in his book “The Quiet Before”: “My observation is that social change always involves hard work, and we’ve become somewhat lazy when it comes to thinking about how to break out of this vicious cycle. We’re used to things happening quickly and efficiently, and we expect the same from social change. I fear we have lost the sense of struggle required to change reality.”
He adds by way of explanation: “For social movements, it’s wonderful to be able to quickly spread an idea. Never before in history has every person theoretically had such a megaphone at their disposal with which they can immediately call everyone to the streets. I’m not saying we should delete our accounts immediately. However, if I can go from zero to a hundred so quickly – if I can wake up angry about something and, within a day, spark a protest of a few thousand people with a viral post – then we’ve skipped many steps in between.”
Vincent Bevins also confirms these thoughts in his book “If We Burn,” in which he attempts to understand why the wave of protests in the 2010s failed. In an interview, he highlights the pivotal role of new digital communication media, noting, “First, digital communication made it comparatively easy to get people out onto the streets quickly during those years. While mobilizations by traditional political actors held little news value for the media, these digitally coordinated and unpredictable mobilizations were seen as exciting and new.” Bevins also notes the simplicity of revolutionary thinking in the 2010s, observing: “Some of the fundamental assumptions held by parts of the anti-authoritarian left were debunked in the 2010s. Many believed that if enough people took to the streets, it was good, progressive, and a step in the right historical direction.”
One could argue that any art form considered easy to create is at risk of dying out because it is ultimately looked down upon. Regarding political revolutionary art, thinkers such as Marx and Luxemburg undervalued it because the Left was captivated by the prospect of an impending revolution until the early 20th century. This made an open-ended critique of revolution impossible. This oversight came back to haunt them long before the 21st century, and its effects were particularly devastating in an era of rapid, just-a-click-away mass communication. Indeed, why engage intensively with revolutionary art when its legitimacy was beyond question after decades of neoliberalism, when one could mobilize people for mass protests virtually at the push of a button?
Note from the editors: Read also “False Teachers: Why Revolutionaries Keep the Art of Revolution a Secret.”