The Actuality of the Revolution: Reflections on Lenin’s State and Revolution

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This is a slightly edited ver­sion of a talk deliv­ered at the Left Forum on March 18, for a panel called “State and Rev­o­lu­tion: Is Lenin Still Rel­e­vant?” (You can lis­ten to the audio of the panel here.) We have posted a few more arti­cles debat­ing this his­tory and its impli­ca­tions for the present: see the responses by Todd Chre­tienMal­colm Har­ris, and Pham Binh, with a final response by Mohandesi.

Ivan Puni, “Armed work­ers in a motorcar”

By the first days of July 1917, ten­sions in the Russ­ian cap­i­tal were the high­est they had been since the Feb­ru­ary Rev­o­lu­tion that deposed the Tsar, announced a Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment, and gave birth to a new wave of sovi­ets. On the third of July, this ten­sion finally exploded as postal work­ers sud­denly went on strike, the work­ers in the Vyborg Fac­tory Dis­trict began to stir, and the mil­i­tant First Machine Gun Reg­i­ment launched a plot to over­throw the Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment. The upris­ing, which was entirely unknown to the Cen­tral Com­mit­tee of the Bol­she­vik Party, reached its peak the next day. Demon­stra­tors were now joined by sailors from Kro­n­stadt, nearly thirty thou­sand work­ers from the Putilov Plant, and sol­diers from a num­ber of rebel­lious reg­i­ments. All told, over half a mil­lion insur­gents were now march­ing against the Pro­vi­sional Government.

The Gov­ern­ment, for its part, was per­haps in its most hope­less state since its for­ma­tion. The Kadets, or the Con­sti­tu­tional Democ­rats, had walked out just two days prior over pol­icy dis­agree­ments on the Ukraine; the his­tor­i­cally loyal Pet­ro­grad Gar­ri­son could no longer be relied upon for assis­tance; and the Baltic Fleet flatly refused orders to block off Kro­n­stadt. In sum, the state found itself suf­fer­ing its most seri­ous legit­i­macy cri­sis at the pre­cise moment when the largest upris­ing since Feb­ru­ary was call­ing for its imme­di­ate overthrow.

But while most his­to­ri­ans agree that the vast major­ity of those who took to the streets that day had in mind noth­ing short of over­throw­ing the Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment, arrest­ing its min­is­ters, and imme­di­ately trans­fer­ring all power to the sovi­ets, it was also clear that they were uncer­tain as to pre­cisely how this should be done. Their uncer­tainty led them to invade the Soviet Exec­u­tive Com­mit­tees, force this body to delib­er­ate the trans­fer of power, and wait for some kind of solu­tion. But the Exec­u­tive Com­mit­tees, mod­er­ate, inde­ci­sive, and increas­ingly unre­li­able, could not decide whether to call for a new Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment or hand power directly to the Sovi­ets, and argued until the early hours of the morn­ing. The masses grew weary, work­ers began to trickle away, and a heavy down­pour finally decom­posed the crowd back into its con­stituent ele­ments. The upris­ing had already under­mined itself before loyal rein­force­ments began mak­ing it back to the city from the frontlines.

The rea­son for this defeat, as many of those who par­tic­i­pated that day them­selves rec­og­nized, was the absence of a bind­ing ele­ment. All of a sud­den, dis­tinct lay­ers of the work­ing masses had spon­ta­neously come together, taken to the streets, and voiced their united oppo­si­tion to the Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment, but some polit­i­cal form had to be found in order to make that encounter “take hold.” The masses them­selves knew this, which is pre­cisely why the Kro­n­stadt sailors made an impor­tant detour before regroup­ing with the main demon­stra­tion in front of the Tau­rida Palace. They went to find Lenin.

Lenin, who had been in Fin­land recov­er­ing from another one of his famous bursts of over­work when the upris­ing began, returned to the city only hours before the sailors arrived at the Bol­she­vik head­quar­ters. Unpre­pared, unde­cided, and still unsure about sup­port­ing the whole affair, Lenin at first refused to speak to the ten thou­sand or so insur­gents gath­er­ing out­side. He even­tu­ally relented, made his way to the bal­cony, and deliv­ered his last pub­lic speech until after Octo­ber. It was ambigu­ous, desul­tory, and, by all accounts, a great dis­ap­point­ment. The sailors had come to hear a clear pro­gram for action and left with noth­ing but vague warn­ings about self-restraint, vig­i­lance, and discipline.

Lenin him­self was uncer­tain. Mikhail Kalinin recalls how he asked Lenin that day whether the upris­ing could grow into a seizure of power. Lenin responded: “we shall see - right now it is impos­si­ble to say!”1 This was no doubt a curi­ous answer for the leader of the pro­le­tar­ian van­guard. It was Lenin’s duty to know what his forces were up to. Instead, he had been caught off-guard. The sore truth is that the party, with Lenin at its head, had mis­read the capa­bil­i­ties, inten­tions, and polit­i­cal com­po­si­tion of the work­ing class. It had failed to grasp what Georg Lukács would later call, “the actu­al­ity of the rev­o­lu­tion,” which is to say, the real­iza­tion that rev­o­lu­tion had already been forced onto the table as an immi­nent real­ity by the class strug­gle itself.2

There may be sev­eral rea­sons why Lenin was unable to antic­i­pate the truly rev­o­lu­tion­ary project implicit in the strug­gles of the work­ing class at that moment. First, and per­haps most sim­ply, Lenin had under­es­ti­mated the mil­i­tancy, readi­ness, and polit­i­cal matu­rity of the masses in the weeks lead­ing up to the July days. The period extend­ing from the tenth of June to the third of July was in fact marked by the high­est level of dis­con­tent since the fall of the Tsar in Feb­ru­ary: strikes, walk­outs, and shut­downs became reg­u­lar occur­rences in the cities; mutinies, deser­tions, and a gen­eral sense of insub­or­di­na­tion char­ac­ter­ized the front; and peas­ants were start­ing to directly social­ize the land in the coun­try­side. “The real mis­take of our Party on July 3-4, as events now reveal,” Lenin later wrote in a ret­ro­spec­tive analy­sis, was “that the Party con­sid­ered the gen­eral sit­u­a­tion in the coun­try less rev­o­lu­tion­ary than it proved to be, that the Party still con­sid­ered a peace­ful devel­op­ment of polit­i­cal changes pos­si­ble through alter­ation in the Sovi­ets’ poli­cies, whereas in real­ity the Men­she­viks and S.R.’s had become so much entan­gled and bound by com­pro­mis­ing with the bour­geoisie, and the bour­geoisie had become so counter-revolutionary, that peace­ful devel­op­ment was no longer pos­si­ble.”3

Sec­ond, it is likely that Lenin that had been unable to prop­erly account for the rapidly chang­ing class com­po­si­tion of his own party. Pet­ro­grad party mem­ber­ship increased from two thou­sand in Feb­ru­ary to over thirty-two thou­sand in late June; in just a mat­ter of months the Bol­she­viks went from being a small, pro­fes­sional, clan­des­tine orga­ni­za­tion of com­mit­ted rev­o­lu­tion­ar­ies to a ver­i­ta­ble mass party of fac­tory work­ers and newly-recruited sol­diers drawn from the peas­antry. Most of these new mem­bers were mil­i­tant, undis­ci­plined, and impa­tient, often­times strik­ing out on their own, act­ing autonomously, and fla­grantly dis­re­gard­ing orders from the Cen­tral Com­mit­tee in a way that pro­duced a sharp rift between the base and the lead­er­ship. While the more con­ser­v­a­tive party lead­ers were busily try­ing to decide whether to sup­port the demon­stra­tions, for instance, much of the rank and file was already in the streets fight­ing bat­tles, storm­ing the Peter and Paul fortress, and autonomously recon­nect­ing with other seg­ments of the work­ing class, all while call­ing for the imme­di­ate over­throw of the Pro­vi­sional Government.

Lastly, it seems that Lenin had been far too con­cerned with keep­ing the party lead­er­ship together, instead of seri­ously con­tem­plat­ing a rev­o­lu­tion­ary seizure of power. In April, in fact on the very day he returned to Pet­ro­grad, the Bol­she­viks were seri­ously con­sid­er­ing reuni­fi­ca­tion with the Men­she­viks. In other words, the very exis­tence of the Bol­she­viks, as the dis­tinct van­guard of the pro­le­tariat, was under threat. Lenin was able to keep the party together only at the cost of sac­ri­fic­ing the clar­ity and con­crete­ness of the party pro­gram, inten­tion­ally leav­ing the ques­tion of the rev­o­lu­tion, of the direct seizure of power, ambigu­ous so as to appease both the left and right fac­tions within his party. But when the time finally came for the party to act in a clear, con­crete, and deter­mined man­ner, to make a res­olute deci­sion on the pos­si­bil­i­ties of directly seiz­ing power and mak­ing the rev­o­lu­tion, the party lead­er­ship found itself unpre­pared and divided.

The result was a crip­pling blow to the Bol­she­viks. Though we might be led, here in the present, to down­play the seri­ous­ness of this defeat, since we all know that the Bol­she­viks would recover their forces for a vic­tory some four months later, for con­tem­po­raries the July days rep­re­sented an unmit­i­gated dis­as­ter. The Bol­she­viks were crushed, much of the lead­er­ship was impris­oned, Lenin fled into hid­ing, the mil­i­tant sol­diers who led the upris­ing were all dis­patched to the front, and a hor­ri­ble period of reac­tion began to set it. For all intents and pur­poses, the Bol­she­viks had missed their chance, and the oppor­tu­nity to make a com­mu­nist rev­o­lu­tion would be closed for­ever. No one then could fore­see any of the tur­bu­lent events, like the Kornilov affair, that would even­tu­ally tran­spire to give the Bol­she­viks another chance.

His­to­ri­ans have cer­tainly debated whether the July days could have actu­ally pro­duced a sus­tain­able rev­o­lu­tion if the party lead­er­ship had unre­servedly taken the ini­tia­tive instead of vac­il­lat­ing as they did. My argu­ment, how­ever, is not that vic­tory would have been cer­tain had the Bol­she­viks prop­erly antic­i­pated the rev­o­lu­tion­ary poten­tial of the masses in the weeks lead­ing up to July – though it should be noted in pass­ing that the chances were quite good, as some rank­ing Bol­she­viks would them­selves admit after the fact – but rather that the party lead­er­ship, with Lenin at the top, by insuf­fi­ciently grasp­ing the view­point of the pro­le­tariat, had mis­di­ag­nosed the sit­u­a­tion, under­es­ti­mated the poten­tial of the class, and there­fore found itself unpre­pared when the masses them­selves thrust the real­ity, in fact the absolute neces­sity, of vio­lent rev­o­lu­tion onto the agenda.

Lenin, who was one of the first to admit the seri­ous­ness of this defeat, imme­di­ately drew the proper lessons from the cat­a­stro­phe. The class had forced the actu­al­ity of the rev­o­lu­tion; now it was up to the party to draft a new pro­gram that could real­ize the project pro­posed by those whose inter­ests it pur­ported to advance. In a set of the­ses pre­pared for an emer­gency strat­egy ses­sion of the Cen­tral Com­mit­tee on July 10, Lenin adum­brated the rudi­ments of a new pro­gram, boldly announc­ing that the trans­fer of power from the Pro­vi­sional Gov­ern­ment to the sovi­ets could no longer be a peace­ful one, that vio­lent rev­o­lu­tion was now not only a pos­si­bil­ity but in fact a neces­sity, and that the party had to imme­di­ately begin prepar­ing itself for a deci­sive strug­gle. It was a clear break from his posi­tion before July, star­tling many of the other Bol­she­viks, and open­ing up a fierce debate within the party. As his­to­rian Alexan­der Rabi­now­itch puts it: “In effect, this may have been Lenin’s first open affir­ma­tion of the absolute neces­sity of a direct seizure of power by the Bol­she­viks, to be exe­cuted at the first suit­able moment in the not-too-distant future.”4 Lenin, presently in hid­ing, now set him­self the task of for­mal­iz­ing this new posi­tion into a new pro­gram for a new con­junc­ture. And since the expe­ri­ence of July had turned the ques­tion of state power into the cen­tral prob­lem, both in prac­tice and in the­ory, it is no sur­prise that Lenin’s pro­gram would take the form of a dis­qui­si­tion on the state. The result, of course, was State and Rev­o­lu­tion.

Although the bulk of the pam­phlet that would be even­tu­ally pub­lished as State and Rev­o­lu­tion was writ­ten in August and Sep­tem­ber of 1917, as Lenin later remarked in his post­script to the first edi­tion, it should be noted that he began col­lect­ing notes as early as the sec­ond half of 1916, and actu­ally started writ­ing an essay called “Marx­ism and the State,” by Jan­u­ary 1917. The blue-covered copy­book, which was left behind in Stock­holm when Lenin made the trip back to Rus­sia in April of 1917, did not actu­ally make it back into his hands until July. There is a temp­ta­tion, then, to see State and Rev­o­lu­tion as sim­ply the cul­mi­na­tion of the project first out­lined in 1916, which would there­fore imply that the text is not so much a prod­uct of the rev­o­lu­tion­ary period, but rather, a project from the pre-revolutionary days, whose col­la­tion, revi­sion, and com­ple­tion was sim­ply delayed by the course of history.

But just as we should avoid mis­take of read­ing the his­tory of the Russ­ian Rev­o­lu­tion teleog­i­cally, so too should we be on guard against such a read­ing of State and Rev­o­lu­tion. Just as we can­not deceive our­selves into believ­ing that defeat in July would inevitably lead to vic­tory in Octo­ber, so too must we avoid the idea that State and Rev­o­lu­tion was the text Lenin intended to write in 1916. Indeed, in between these moments, the win­ter of 1916 on the one hand and August of 1917 on the other, lay an entire rev­o­lu­tion. When Lenin sat down to write State and Rev­o­lu­tion in August of 1917 he had some­thing entirely dif­fer­ent in mind than when he started draft­ing “Marx­ism and the State” in the win­ter of 1916. Although some of the raw mate­ri­als were col­lected before the rev­o­lu­tion, the text we now know as State and Rev­o­lu­tion was entirely a prod­uct of the con­junc­ture that came into being after the rev­o­lu­tion, and more specif­i­cally, after the July Days. Its inten­tions, objec­tives, and prob­lem­atic were a prod­uct of the cycle of strug­gle that emerged after the defeat in July. As Lenin wrote soon after that defeat:

The cycle of devel­op­ment of the class and party strug­gle in Rus­sia from Feb­ru­ary 27 to July 4 is com­plete. A new cycle is begin­ning, one that involves not the old classes, not the old par­ties, not the old Sovi­ets, but classes, par­ties and Sovi­ets reju­ve­nated in the fire of strug­gle, tem­pered, schooled and refash­ioned by the process of the strug­gle. We must look for­ward, not back­ward. We must oper­ate not with the old, but with the new, post-July, class and party cat­e­gories.5

State and Rev­o­lu­tion is in large part an attempt to refash­ion these new cat­e­gories, rethink the changed polit­i­cal com­po­si­tion of the pro­le­tariat, and reex­am­ine the pos­si­bil­ity of a seizure of state power.

So although State and Rev­o­lu­tion deals in large part with the state, it is actu­ally about the neces­sity, char­ac­ter, and form of the pro­le­tar­ian rev­o­lu­tion. As I have shown above, the great­est les­son Lenin learned from July was that the pro­le­tariat was actu­ally more polit­i­cally devel­oped than he had expected; it had already put the ques­tion of the rev­o­lu­tion on the table and con­cretely demanded the seizure of power – in fact, it had already put forth the actu­al­ity of the rev­o­lu­tion. State and Rev­o­lu­tion rep­re­sents Lenin’s attempt to artic­u­late that actu­al­ity at the level of the­ory, advance a pro­gram that would res­onate with the changed polit­i­cal com­po­si­tion of the pro­le­tariat, and antic­i­pate the future con­tours of the class strug­gle in a way that would allow the party to take the ini­tia­tive by deci­sively inter­ven­ing in the class strug­gle, rather than sit­ting by as events sim­ply unfolded, as they did in July. He wanted to be pre­pared in case another oppor­tu­nity pre­sented itself. So in Octo­ber, when the party was given “another chance,” there was no longer any hes­i­ta­tion. Lenin would not think to him­self, “right now it is impos­si­ble to say”; instead, we would be armed with a clear pro­gram, a plan, a line of action.

Real­iz­ing that project, how­ever, nec­es­sar­ily involved, at that his­tor­i­cal moment, an attempt to develop a con­crete the­ory of the state, pre­cisely because July had already made the ques­tion of the state para­mount. State and Rev­o­lu­tion would be the attempt to defin­i­tively show, by way of an inves­ti­ga­tion into the state form, that only a vio­lent rev­o­lu­tion could replace the bour­geois state with a pro­le­tar­ian one. The final line of the pref­ace, which Lenin penned in August of 1917, expresses the objec­tive of the entire book­let: “The ques­tion of the rela­tion of the social­ist pro­le­tar­ian rev­o­lu­tion to the state, there­fore, is acquir­ing not only prac­ti­cal impor­tance, but also the sig­nif­i­cance of a most urgent prob­lem of the day, the prob­lem of explain­ing to the masses what they will have to do before long to free them­selves from cap­i­tal­ist tyranny.”6

Con­se­quently, despite its form of pre­sen­ta­tion, the pri­mary objec­tive of State and Rev­o­lu­tion is not the schol­arly exe­ge­sis of the works of Marx and Engels on the state but the pro­duc­tion of the pro­le­tar­ian rev­o­lu­tion. Given that much of the text is a long com­men­tary on Marx and Engels, there is the dan­ger of read­ing the text as Lenin’s attempt to pro­vide the defin­i­tive Marx­ist account of the state by stick­ing as faith­fully as pos­si­ble to the essen­tial teach­ings of the mas­ters. But if we look closely, it’s clear that Lenin does not at all com­pose a faith­ful, dis­in­ter­ested, or objec­tive intel­lec­tual his­tory. Lenin gives a rather biased read­ing, pick­ing phrases from here and there, offer­ing very lib­eral inter­pre­ta­tions of cer­tain pas­sages, and, to put it bluntly, dis­tort­ing Marx and Engels almost as much as Bern­stein or Kaut­sky, the fig­ures he attacks in State and Rev­o­lu­tion pre­cisely for their own dis­tor­tions of the pure teach­ings of Marx and Engels. Far from offer­ing a loyal pre­sen­ta­tion of the Marx­ist the­ory of the state, Lenin is care­fully extract­ing out of Marx and Engels those ele­ments nec­es­sary for prop­erly the­o­riz­ing the actu­al­ity of the rev­o­lu­tion in his own time.

As he put it ear­lier in 1917: “For the present, it is essen­tial to grasp the incon­testable truth that a Marx­ist must take cog­nizance of real life, of the true facts of real­ity, and not cling to a the­ory of yes­ter­day, which, like all the­o­ries, at best only out­lines the main and the gen­eral, only comes near to embrac­ing life in all its com­plex­ity.”7 Instead of fidelity to a the­ory of yes­ter­day, Lenin aims for the con­crete­ness of the present sit­u­a­tion, a task which may at times call a delib­er­ate trans­gres­sion of those past the­o­ries. The fun­da­men­tally his­tor­i­cal, and there­fore pro­vi­sional, char­ac­ter of all these the­o­ries includes that of State and Rev­o­lu­tion itself. It is ulti­mately a pro­gram hur­riedly thrown together in order to pre­pare Lenin for the task of mak­ing a rev­o­lu­tion in case another oppor­tu­nity were to present itself. It is tem­po­rary, con­di­tional, inten­tion­ally left open.

Indeed, it is no won­der that Lenin actu­ally never fin­ished the text. As he wrote in the famous Post­face: “I was ‘inter­rupted’ by a polit­i­cal cri­sis – the eve of the Octo­ber Rev­o­lu­tion of 1917.”8 The humor can­not be lost on us: prac­tice did not inter­rupt the­ory; the the­ory found its fit­ting con­clu­sion in the prac­tice of rev­o­lu­tion. With its pur­pose served, Lenin saw no rea­son to go back and fin­ish off that which was always intended to be pro­vi­sional any­way. The pam­phlet kept its unfin­ished form, finally appear­ing in print in 1918, in a changed his­tor­i­cal con­junc­ture marked by changed needs.

Given this pro­vi­sional char­ac­ter, then, and rec­og­niz­ing its his­tor­i­cally con­di­tional pur­pose, how rel­e­vant is State and Rev­o­lu­tion to us today? On the one hand, not a great deal, since his­tor­i­cal con­di­tions have changed so much as to ren­der that text largely inad­e­quate to our needs in the present. State and Rev­o­lu­tion, as I have tried to show, should not be read as the defin­i­tive Marx­ist the­ory of the state, applic­a­ble any­where and at all times, but rather as a his­tor­i­cal pro­gram for a his­tor­i­cal class that hap­pened to take the form of an exeget­i­cal, at times polem­i­cal, dis­qui­si­tion on the state; just as, for instance, the Man­i­festo of the Com­mu­nist Party is not the defin­i­tive Marx­ist the­ory of his­tory, but rather another his­tor­i­cal pro­gram for another his­tor­i­cal class that hap­pened to take the form of an his­tor­i­cal, at times polem­i­cal, nar­ra­tive of the class struggle.

But if this is the case, then do those texts, whose projects have been clearly obvi­ated by the sub­se­quent course of his­tory, no longer hold any value for us in present? Not quite; indeed, they can be invalu­able, but their value can only be unlocked after we have first learned how to read them. Unsur­pris­ingly, it is none other than Lenin him­self, in State and Rev­o­lu­tion, who pro­vides us the key to such a read­ing. When Lenin read Marx, he did so not under the impres­sion that Marx had bequeathed a num­ber of invari­ant the­o­ries to pos­ter­ity, but rather that he had writ­ten a con­geries of pro­grams all tied to con­crete his­tor­i­cal moments in the class strug­gle. Speak­ing of Marx’s Eigh­teenth Bru­maire of Louis Napoleon, for instance, Lenin com­ments in State and Rev­o­lu­tion that such a work was not the prod­uct of “log­i­cal rea­son­ing,” but of “actual devel­op­ments, the actual expe­ri­ence of 1848-1851.”9 For Lenin, all of Marx’s work was a the­o­ret­i­cal “sum­ming up”10 of the most recent con­crete pro­le­tar­ian expe­ri­ences in a way that would pre­pare him for a deci­sive inter­ven­tion in future struggles.

And so we must try to read Lenin the way Lenin read Marx. We must use State and Rev­o­lu­tion as an entry point into Lenin’s mode of oper­at­ing, his under­stand­ing of the rela­tion­ship between the­ory and prac­tice, his esti­ma­tion of the role of com­mu­nist the­ory. Lenin always looked to access­ing, artic­u­lat­ing, and advanc­ing the pro­le­tar­ian view­point at the level of the­ory. This meant closely read­ing the com­po­si­tion of the pro­le­tariat in order to dis­cover the polit­i­cal project already implicit in its strug­gles, using that inquiry to fash­ion a polit­i­cal pro­gram capa­ble of mak­ing that project explicit, and then con­cretiz­ing that pro­gram in a way that would allow him to antic­i­pate the next moves in the strug­gle. This is the real mean­ing of prac­tic­ing the art of pol­i­tics: match­ing an his­tor­i­cally spe­cific pro­gram to an his­tor­i­cally spe­cific class. This is what we must relearn from Lenin today.


1. Quoted in Alexan­der Rabi­now­itch, Pre­lude to Rev­o­lu­tion: The Pet­ro­grad Bol­she­viks and the July 1917 Upris­ing (Bloom­ing­ton: The Indi­ana Uni­ver­sity Press, 1968), 184.

2. Georg Lukács, Lenin: A Study on the Unity of His Thought (Lon­don: Verso, 2009), 9-13.

3. V. I. Lenin, “Draft Res­o­lu­tion on the Present Polit­i­cal Sit­u­a­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25: June-September 1917 (Moscow: Progress Pub­lish­ers, 1964), 313.

4. Alexan­der Rabi­now­itch, Pre­lude to Rev­o­lu­tion: The Pet­ro­grad Bol­she­viks and the July 1917 Upris­ing (Bloom­ing­ton: The Indi­ana Uni­ver­sity Press, 1968, 216).

5. Lenin, “On Slo­gans,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25, 190.

6. Lenin, “State and Rev­o­lu­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25, 384.

7. Lenin, “Let­ters on Tac­tics, First Let­ter: Assess­ment of the Present Sit­u­a­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 24: April-June 1917 (Moscow: Progress Pub­lish­ers, 1964), 45.

8. Lenin, “State and Rev­o­lu­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25, 492.

9. Lenin, “State and Rev­o­lu­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25, 409.

10. Lenin, “State and Rev­o­lu­tion,” Col­lected Works, Vol­ume 25, 405.

Author of the article

is an editor of Viewpoint and a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania.