Saturday, February 08, 2025

 

In search of alternatives: Strategies for social movements to counter imperialism and authoritarianism



Published 
Email
artwork TNI

First published at TNI.

In May 2024, seven months after Israel’s war on Gaza began, students at the University of Amsterdam (UvA) built the first Gaza solidarity camp in the Netherlands, following the lead of their distant comrades at Columbia University and other universities across Europe and the US. The UvA’s board, backed by the Mayor of Amsterdam, Femke Halsema, saw the police evict the camp. But the movement did not stop. The student protesters quickly and effectively built a second, bigger encampment, which became a trigger for a nationwide encampment and protest movement for Palestine supported by students at other Dutch universities, various social movements, the Palestinian diaspora, and including working-class people, especially those with a migrant background. A new anti-imperialist politics was born.

While the war on Gaza and the Palestinian Occupied Territories on the West Bank has rejuvenated anti-imperialist politics, it builds on many recent social movements in the Global South that have been at the forefront of resisting capitalist-induced authoritarianism and imperialist/expansionist politics. This includes the anti-authoritarian Milk Tea Alliance (MTA) in East and Southeast Asia, left-wing political formations and governments in a number of countries across Latin America and Europe, Black Lives Matter protests in the US and beyond, and various local and national struggles against extractive industries, capitalist exploitation, oligarchic power, and state repression.

Understanding the nature of imperialism today and the creative ways through which social movements and popular resistance push back against it is pivotal to making sense of the ravages of contemporary global capitalism and authoritarianism and offering alternative solutions.

Imperialism: A return of a forgotten concept

The political and economic tensions between the US and China or other middle-level powers such as Brazil, Russia, India, and South Africa (the original BRICS countries), have become common talking points in academic, media, and public discourses. Along with the BRICS bloc, other middle-power countries, such as Qatar and Türkiye have also gained global attention for presenting a diplomatic challenge to Western hegemony.

These accounts, however, fail to situate the shifting landscape of global power within the historical development of capitalism, a political-economic system based on the private ownership of the means of production, exploitation of labour, and the profit motive. As a result, we are left with fearmongering and pseudo-moralistic accounts of the world, seeing rising major and middle powers as either ‘threats to liberty, democracy, and rule-based order’ or ‘saviour vanguards’ against centuries of Western colonialism and hypocrisy.

This false dichotomy is reproduced in political discourses. Many liberal and conservative accounts see the rise of China as a threat to freedom, ironically at the same time as the so-called ‘Free World’ has been actively engaging in mass surveillance, interventions of democratic processes to safeguard its political and economic interests, and support for repression of the Yemenis and the genocide of Palestinians. Meanwhile, some sections of the left and progressives more broadly hold an idealised notion of Third World or Global South anti-imperialism as inherently and eternally progressive, neglecting the contradictions inherent in these anti-imperialist political projects (or rather, states) and their frequent degeneration into mere authoritarianism.

This is why a contextual, political economy-informed reading of imperialism remains relevant. It allows us to comprehend the intersecting realms of state and corporate power, the role of the West, especially the US, in maintaining capitalism and the current form of international relations, the complicity of domestic political and economic elites in perpetuating this unjust power structure, and popular resistance against such global dominance, especially from social movements and grassroots resistance in the Global South.

A major element of imperialism, according to Lenin, is the expansion of capital and its accompanying social and political relations from the rich countries — colonial metropoles and post-1945 global powers such the US and Japan — to peripheral and underdeveloped areas — collectively known as the Third World, and later ‘the Global South’.

In its current form, imperialism relies on several mechanisms of profit extraction and coercion for national subjugation, namely transnational corporations (TNCs) relying on cheap labour for profit, political elites using authoritarian and military methods to discipline working people and their progressive politics in the name of political stability and smooth investments, and continuing alliances with old imperialist powers.

Imperialism, then, is not merely the expansion of capital and exploitation of labour by TNCs on a global scale, but rather political project of the ruling class in imperial metropoles to constrain and undermine the sovereignty of nation-states in the Global South and to maintain their domination through economic, political, and even military means.

While economic imperialism, strengthened by domestic rule of capital in contemporary capitalist societies, continues to be the dominant feature of contemporary imperialism, it is its more vulgar, militaristic aspect that often disturbs public conscience. This military power ensures not only economic imperialism but has also cemented the power of US imperialism — along with its strategic allies — during and particularly after the Cold War.

This politico-military dimension of imperialism has been pursued even at an astronomical military and human cost. The US-led invasion and subsequent occupation of Iraq from 2003 to 2011, foreign meddling in the chaotic Libyan civil war, and Israel’s opportunistic invasion of Syria after the collapse of the Assad regime in December 2024 are just a few examples.

Strangely, some activists, organisations, and scholars on the left, especially those residing in the West, can be so preoccupied with the domestic politics of their respective countries that they overlook the challenges faced by anti-imperialist movements in the Global South and the bleak realities of imperialist encirclement.

A recent cross-national study has vindicated the continuing relevance of classical insights on imperialism. It shows that rich countries benefit from a large scale ‘appropriation of resources and labour from the global South’ in the post-Cold War period (1990-2015), totalling approximately $242 trillion in market prices for the whole period.

The economic rise of non-Western countries and regions and the performance of high-growth economies such as the Asian Tigers and Tiger Cub economies (Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Thailand and Vietnam) does not spell the end of imperialist power structures. If anything, imperialism is continually reinforced by TNCs and governments in the US and former colonial powers. For instance, Intan Suwandi’s in-depth case study of Indonesia demonstrates that economic imperialism continues to operate via supplier companies and TNCs from the Global North profiting from global labour arbitrage — wage differentials between workers in the Global North and the Global South. Workers in Indonesia and other growing economies continue to be exploited, while the TNCs make a killing.

This continuing economic plunder and military adventurism naturally engenders collective resistance. Various social movements have mounted significant challenges to global imperialism, including the so-called ‘Battle of Seattle’ protests against the World Trade Organization (WTO), the Zapatista national liberation army (EZLN) in Mexico, opposition to Western-backed authoritarian governments in many countries across Latin America and East and Southeast Asia, mass demonstrations against the US-led invasion and subsequent occupation of Iraq, and numerous local social movements against land-grabbing, resource exploitation, privatisation, and corporate expansion. The heydays of armed national liberation movements might have passed, but the spirit of anti-imperialism continues.

Imperialism, authoritarian capitalism, and the fog of conceptual fallacies


These imperialist dynamics overlap with the global turn towards a more authoritarian form of capitalism and electoral governance sustaining it — reactionary or illiberal populism. Figures like Donald Trump, Viktor Orban, Jair Bolsonaro, and Narendra Modi have won elections and right-wing populist movements of various stripes, ranging from anti-immigrant far-right political parties in Europe to Hindutva and Islamist currents in India and Türkiye respectively, have made significant political inroads.

Contrary to the conventional wisdom which blames this malaise on the deficit of democratic culture and the breakdown of elite consensus, this latest wave of authoritarian tendencies matured as a result of the unchecked power of capital, the hollowing out of participatory democratic institutions, oligarchic control of politics, and assaults on many forms of redistributive or social welfare.

Authoritarian capitalism, then, can be seen as a product of capital’s expansion from the metropole through an imperialist arrangement. Authoritarian capitalism consolidates as postcolonial states in the Global South become increasingly integrated into the global capitalist circuit. This process intensified after the slow death of social democratic and national liberation projects.

What has been at play here is not only the dismantling of post-1945 welfare state and institutions by neoliberal, free-market radicals, but also, to quote Margaret Somers, the institutional and political attacks on the predistributive power of the state and the concept of social citizenship. That is, even the very ideas that the state should prevent incipient inequalities in the first place and guarantee social rights as part of its social contract with its citizens and residents.

As a result, the economic and social gains made in the ‘golden age’ of welfare state and policies have been eroded or reversed and the democratic demand for such arrangements tamed and labelled as ‘irresponsible spending’. Moreover, the state has been refashioned according to the neoliberal imagination as a facilitator of balanced budgets (for citizens, but not for corporations and political elites), including austerity, privatisation, free trade, and a reliance on the ready supply of cheap labour.

This necessitates an outward expansion of capital and its disciplinary institutions and apparatus and the decline of the politics of solidarity with progressive political experiments in the Global South. Consequently, this changing configuration swings the geopolitical and economic pendulum in favour of imperialist interests.

This development has also led to the declining welfare of working people and the rise of authoritarian populism. In the US, for example, decades of trade liberalisation and de-industrialisation for the sake of ‘global competitiveness’ had impoverished rural communities and provided a receptive breeding ground for Trump-style authoritarian-leaning populism. Similarly, unrestrained globalisation has facilitated the success of reactionary politics of multiple strands such as Hindutva in India, oligarchy-backed Islamist populism in Indonesia, and antidemocratic libertarianism in Latin America. Despite their ‘anti-elite’ rhetoric, these currents effectively serve as vessels for authoritarian neoliberal policies.

This economic warfare on labour has a corrosive effect on popular democracy. In European democracies, political parties including social democratic ones, have become disconnected from the wider public — politicians are increasingly a professional political class with their own self-interests and divorced from their constituencies. Intellectuals, backed by big corporate lobbies, have concocted analytical justifications for deeper neoliberalism and oligarchic interests at the expense of democratic procedures, as can be seen in the US, Latin America, and Indonesia.

When this elusive control of democracy is insufficient to deter popular resistance, then political and economic elites will resort to repressive measures to save their neoliberal design and their interests. This is what authoritarian capitalism looks like.

Being aware of these intersecting historical processes of imperialism and authoritarian capitalism can help working people and progressive social movements to avoid two types of fallacies. First is the fallacy of vulgar anti-imperialism or ‘campism’, seeing the world through a simplistic, romanticised binary of the imperialist First World versus the eternally progressive Third World, where factors such as domestic politics, the state of democracy, and class composition and relations within these two blocs are glossed over. The consequences of this fallacy can be fatal: in the name of anti-imperialism, it is possible to provide uncritical support for ‘anti-Western’ authoritarian states, such as Russia and Syria, and even worse dismiss popular struggles, social movements, and those campaigning for socialism, greater democracy, and social rights in these states. This includes the Russian Marxist intellectual Boris Kagarlitsky, a noted critic of the far right and Putin’s authoritarianism, and Kurdish forces who fought the totalitarian Daesh terrorists and launched the Rojava revolution.

The second fallacy is that of inter-imperialist rivalry. This thesis argues that the current contour of international politics is a reflection of inter-imperialist rivalry between the West and China and Russia. This is also a form of simplistic thinking since it equates political and economic expansion of rising and middle-level powers, whether democratic or authoritarian, with past experiences of imperialist powers. Acknowledging the human costs of such expansionism should not make us lose sight of the horrifying records of Western imperialism and colonialism. Moreover, it shows a lack of understanding of what the integration into the global capital circuit and international order means for a major economic power such as China and maverick authoritarian middle powers such as Türkiye and Qatar, which includes strategic restraint, the need for new markets, international legitimacy for their domestic populations, and preserving the self-interests of the ruling elites.

Opening up the fractures of antagonistic cooperation

Building on diverse socialist traditions, the activist-scholar Promise Li describe this simultaneous process of confluence and conflict of interests between the US-led Western imperialism and an assortment of expansionist, sub-imperial, and emerging powers as ‘antagonistic cooperation’. While acknowledging the enduring influence of Western imperialism, Li and his interlocutor Federico Fuentes also point out the contradictions within the loose coalition of challengers to the US-led international order and the many social antagonisms that this coalition engenders, such as political repression at home and the environmental and social costs of its foreign investments.

This reading of contemporary imperialism is innovative and much-needed for analytical and activist reflections. However, social movements and activists on the ground do not always have the luxury to wait. Sometimes, they need to act at critical moments and in less-than-ideal geopolitical conjunctures. This includes seizing opportunities presented by rifts within this antagonistic cooperation and using resources from states which compete against US and Western dominance.

Take the examples of China and Qatar. China has abandoned its policy of supporting revolutionary movements, benefitted extensively from its integration into global capitalism, and introduced an extensive mechanism of internal repression of dissent and minorities in the name of domestic political and economic stability. Yet it has never engaged in foreign colonial adventures, military interventions, and ‘state-building’ projects practised by several of the former colonial powers and the US. Walden Bello notes that China largely maintains a strategic defensive military posture, avoids an arms race and only has one foreign military base in Djibouti.

Moreover, the negative impacts of China’s foreign economic investments, especially on labour rights, local community wellbeing, and the environment, are not the outcome of state-backed corporate expansion and militaristic/authoritarian control in the classical mode of imperialism.

First, despite its recent technological advancements, China’s geo-economic rise remains dependent on foreign capital via ‘the globalization of production via Western TNCs’. This shows the limits of China’s economic ambition and expansion and differentiates its development with that of existing imperialist powers in the Global North. To call China ‘imperialist’ in a Leninist sense is, therefore, a misnomer.

Second, China’s foreign investment and hunger for resources are an outcome of state-led outsourcing of domestic economic development involving varied state and private actors and companies with different levels of compliance with labour and environmental regulations.

In other words, the preference for domestic stability, the presence of competing development actors with different interests, and the relative dependence of post-Mao Chinese governments on foreign capital put a significant limit on capitalist, state, and party elites with imperialist interests in China. The lasting legacy of Maoist/leftist moral economy and political ethos in China’s labour and social movements also puts a brake on the expansionist drive of some sections of the Chinese elites.

Another curious example is Qatar, which occupies a different position than China in its dialectics of antagonistic cooperation with the West. Qatar is a maverick middle-level power while China is a rising dominant power with a socialist history. Yet, just like China, Qatar has its own share of antagonisms with US imperialism and global capital.

While it can be seen as just another petrodollar Gulf State with an authoritarian government and a problematic human rights record, with the largest US military base in the Middle EastQatar’s support for Al-Jazeera has also broadened the scope of political debates in the Arab world and beyond, and provided an alternative media channel through which social movements and anti-imperialist causes can voice their aspirations. The importance of this role can be seen by the channel’s coverage of the Arab Spring and Israel’s war on Gaza and the creation of its US subsidiary, AJ+, a social media-based news channel with a left-leaning slant.

Qatar’s past diplomatic crisis with other US-allied Arab states such as Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Bahrain, and Egypt also suggests its own geopolitical and foreign policy preferences, which were used by Islamist and popular movements during the Arab Spring.

In short, Qatar’s self-interested moves do not represent a break from contemporary imperialism, but they can mitigate its excesses. Qatar’s decision to prohibit the US from using its military base to attack Iran is a telling example of such restraint. Moreover, its role as an active broker in the ongoing ceasefire process between Israel and Hamas has proven its salience as a tactical alternative to imperialist geopolitics.

These states’ geopolitical manoeuvring effectively serves to check contemporary imperialism. The geopolitical rivalry between them and the West offers opportunities for progressive social movements and their constituencies. This should not be controversial; for decades, these movements have strategically used funding from Western donors channelled through non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in the Global South. This strategic engagement can also be applied in tactical working relations with these ‘buffer states’ and their resources to challenge Western imperialism without becoming apologists for ‘anti-Western’ authoritarianism.

Strategies for social movements

The following sections highlight the creative ways social movements across three regions use in advancing their goals amidst this new contour of imperialism.

Case study 1: Unexpected alliances and networks in the Palestine solidarity movements

Let us begin with the latest case of anti-imperialist social movements: the Palestine solidarity movements. In response to the genocide, a broad, popular pro-Palestine and pro-peace alliance was immediately formed and consolidated, comprising a wide range of groups: leftist political organisations, progressive social movements, unions and workers from different sectors including students, anti-Zionist Jews, LGBTQ+, Muslim communities and Palestinian organisations and diaspora. The movement has followed a multi-pronged strategy pushing for a permanent ceasefire and Palestinian liberation, including mass mobilisation, diplomatic efforts, and media operations. These elements, in an ad hoc manner, support and reinforce each other and create unexpected, uncoordinated alliances between different groups, states, and networks. It has involved street demonstrations but also institutions of symbolic, intellectual, and material importance for Israel and its Western backers: the universities. This tactic has shifted public opinion, delegitimising the myth of Israel as a bastion of liberal and intellectual freedom, and severing institutional, financial, and military ties supporting its occupation and war crimes.

Just like the pulling out of US troops from Vietnam and the boycott of apartheid South Africa, this pressure from below has pushed key countries such as South Africa and Colombia to express strong support for the Palestinian cause, as shown in the former’s historic genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice (ICJ). It has even pushed several European countries such as Spain, Norway, Ireland, and Belgium to speak up for Palestinian human rights.

One could argue that this is a repeat of the anti-WTO protests, when radical anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist movements momentarily joined force with Global South states and succeeded in stopping the advance of a neoliberal trade agenda. International condemnation of Israel at the United Nations General Assembly is supported by almost every Global South nation.

Here, some diplomatic manoeuvres of China and Qatar also played a role. China maintains consistent support for the two-state solution and recently brokered a unity deal between Hamas, Fatah, and 12 other Palestinian factions for national reconciliation and Palestinian statehood. Meanwhile, Qatar has served as a mediator in the ceasefire negotiations, and the release of Israeli hostages in return for the release of Palestinians detained in Israel, with a specific leverage as it has provided refuge to some of the Hamas leadership. Needless to say, we should be aware of the limits of Chinese and Qatari foreign policies. China has deepening economic and military ties with Israel, while Qatar hosts the US Al-Udeid Air Base.

Effectively, there is sometimes a convergence of interests, if not visions, between the grassroots movements for Palestine and peace in the Middle East with the more progressive sections of state elites in key Global South and several European countries, China, and Qatar. This, coupled with the popular support in the Middle East for Palestine and even the guerrilla operations of many armed groups fighting Israeli and US forces, consolidates a broad alliance of social movement and state actors, albeit in an uncoordinated fashion.

Aiding this is the collective media resistance against Western imperialist narratives and the Hasbara propaganda. Despite the blatant pro-Israel bias in major Western news outlets and lavish funding for the Hasbara campaign whitewashing Israel’s war crimes, Al-Jazeera’s coverage of the genocide in Gaza has been an important counterbalance in this information battle as a media giant that can match the coverage and resources of its Western rivals.

Case-study 2: Anti-authoritarian movements in East and Southeast Asia

In East and Southeast Asia, we see an example of how social movements confront authoritarian capitalism and its transnational expansion. The most recent wave is the Milk Tea Alliance (MTA), a loose network of anti-authoritarian/pro-democracy movements in Hong Kong, Taiwan, Thailand, and Myanmar, which was active from 2020 to 2021. Youth-driven, this alliance combined mass mobilisation and massive online presence to defy different types of authoritarianism: Chinese party-state authoritarianism in Hong Kong and Taiwan, military-backed royalist despotism in Thailand, and the military junta in Myanmar. There is a strong transnational dimension and exchange of norms and practices within this alliance.

But there is also a longer history of anti-authoritarian movements in East and Southeast Asia, whose narratives have a long-lasting influence and have been committed to counter authoritarian capitalism/developmentalism and the imperialist power structure supporting it. Consider, for example, anti-Marcos and anti-Suharto movements in the Philippines and Indonesia, the Gwangju Uprising in South Korea, and the many cases of agrarian justice, land rights, and anti-dam protests, labour strikes and struggles, pro-democracy activism, and even progressive religious mobilisation in the region. These movements highlighted the complicity of international capital and its support from the West as well as the international financial institutions in propping up authoritarian rule and its domestic capitalist supporters in the Philippines and Indonesia. Though implicit, the spirit of anti-imperialism was present in these past anti-authoritarian and social movement mobilisations.

Today’s anti-authoritarian movements in the region used various political strategies from mass mobilisation to online campaigns and pop culture. They also innovated new tactics. Hong Kong’s protesters, for example used black umbrellas and shields to ‘block rubber bullets and police batons’, organised roving rather than stationed occupations of targeted areas, and experimented with counter-surveillance of police informants, and coded communications.

The MTA’s demand for greater democratisation posed a serious challenge to authoritarianism in East and Southeast Asian states, including China. By doing so, it disrupted these governments’ antagonistic cooperation with Western imperialism and opened the way to push for a more progressive politics beyond electoral democracy, such as the popular control of capital.

Sadly, in the face of the repressive apparatus of the Chinese government, this movement was crushed and its leaders were recently jailed or went into exile. Nevertheless, its creative tactics in confronting police violence could be applicable and more effective for social movements operating in less repressive environments.

The limitations of these movements have also been rooted in their poor awareness of the role of international capital and imperialist dynamics in perpetuating authoritarianism in the region, which has allowed them to be hijacked by opportunistic Western elites and simplified as an affirmation for the (neo)liberal project. It is unfortunate, for instance, that some Hong Kong dissidents, in their opposition to Chinese party-state authoritarianism, seek inspiration from a sanitised version of ‘the liberal West’, even to the point where they embrace the Trumpist reactionary project. This historical and analytical myopia weakens the dissidents’ capacity to challenge a major pillar of the authoritarian development model in East and Southeast Asia, namely the complicity of Western imperialist and capitalist interest in maintaining such model.

In addition, four years after the alliance burst onto the regional political scene, its major demands continue to be centred around electoral democracy and human rights protection. While important, the packaging of these demands can be detached from labour and the broader call for social justice and democratic class struggle.

Case-study 3: The Latin American left’s strategic engagement with China

Finally, the left in Latin America shows an example of how progressive social movements can strategically seize opportunities from geopolitical competition, in this case US–China rivalry. Looking towards China for alternative sources of foreign investment reduces Latin American countries’ dependence on US political and economic power, delinks the region from the US imperialist grip, and could be used to fund broadly socialist-inspired economic programmes.

The option to pursue Chinese foreign investment facilitated the electoral path pursued by leftist movements in Latin America, famously known as the ‘Pink Tide’. Combining left-wing populism with different degrees of socialist and social democratic economic policies, this political articulation pushed for a range of anti-neoliberal, anti-imperialist economic projects, ranging from extensive social welfare programmes, attempted the nationalisation of major economic enterprises, and alternative financial institutions such as Bank of the Bolivarian Alliance for the Peoples of Our America (ALBA) and BRICS’s New Development Bank.

The implementation of these schemes has clearly been a complex and tough political and technocratic process and faced considerable criticism, but delinking and improving the productive force of the economy was nevertheless a necessity for left-wing forces to seek to advance a socialist programme and democratisation in a region dominated by Washington and with a history of US-backed dictatorships. As noted by Ivo Ganchev, Chinese trade, investment and loan deals provided alternatives to US-led financial institutions for Ecuador and Bolivia, marking a significant break with with US-led economic imperialism. It also contributed to a revitalisation of the spirit of South–South cooperation during the high tide of the decolonisation period.

Obviously, not all types of Chinese investments can be seen as fundamentally benign. Records have shown that Chinese capitalist enterprises have questionable labour and environmental rights records. Nor does Chinese capital guarantee a greater democratisation of the economy, especially the means of the production, by labour. There is a need to critically assess and ensure how relationships with China benefit working people, while acknowledging that the task of building non-capitalist, humane alternatives is a gruelling one.

Since the first wave of the ‘pink tide’ governments, there have been setbacks such as the victory of reactionary forces in Argentina and Ecuador and the crisis in Venezuela that has trapped popular sectors between Nicolás Maduro’s authoritarianism and US imperialist coup plots. There are, however, still important lessons to learn and new opportunities in the second wave of the ‘pink tide’, notably in Brazil and Mexico.

Concluding thoughts

The story of today’s geopolitics is still a story of a US-led, Western international order, but one that increasingly faces challenges from other contending states and popular movements. Recent shifts in global politics, economy, and military power, marked most recently by the broad popular opposition to the Western-backed Israel’s war in Gaza, seem to confirm this assessment.

The rise of potential state challengers to US dominance does not necessarily mean the ushering in of a new progressive era. Nevertheless, it represents opportunities for social movements to challenge Western imperialism. These varied sub-imperial, emerging, and expansionist states may in practice be tied into the dialectic relations of antagonistic cooperation with the old imperial centre and authoritarian rule, but under certain circumstances, they might share the same interests as the working people’s.

This is a convergence of interest, if not values, between their foreign policy orientation and the anti-imperialist, anti-neoliberal goals of many social movements in the Global South. Without having to become apologists for authoritarianism, these are exactly the opportunities that social movements should seize to advance their goals and effectively confront imperialism.

The Palestine Solidarity Movement, the East and Southeast Asian Anti-Authoritarian Movements, and the Latin American Left have all resisted authoritarian capitalism and/or imperialism. Some of their strategies and tactics are still in their infancy and full of contradictions, but they provide reference points for future actions and policies. Equally important, these movements have shown, with varying degrees of clarity and success, the links between domestic despotism and imperialism or the rule of international capital.

The current conjunctures of global geopolitics might also open up opportunities for a broader transnational solidarity, as exemplified in the solidarity statement of anti-Putinist Ukrainian activists with the Palestinian people.

The major challenge ahead, however, remains the task of dismantling economic imperialism. The three examples of social movements we have highlighted have mainly focused on opposing the political power of imperialism and authoritarian capitalism. What is more difficult is to challenge and provide alternatives to the economic power of imperialism, especially in increasing the productive force of Global South economies, establishing alternative international development financing schemes, and democratising workplaces in large-scale enterprises. These must be some of the future tasks for any progressive social movements with an anti-imperialist orientation.

 

Re-examining Lenin’s writings on the national question: An early Marxist critique from the imperial periphery



Published 

Ukrainian nationalism

First published in Revolutionary Russia.

On the centenary of Vladimir Lenin’s death, this article revisits his pre-1917 writings on the right of nations to self-determination from the perspective of his Ukrainian contemporary, Lev Yurkevych. Unlike the well-known polemic between Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg, the critique of Lenin's views on national emancipation posed by socialists from the Russian Empire’s peripheries has been largely overlooked. This is no surprise, given the Russian Communist Party’s deliberate efforts to erase dissident voices and the Western public’s longstanding attachment to the perspectives of the Russian imperial centre. This bias not only shaped our understanding of the 1917 revolutions as a ‘Russian revolution’ but has also influenced our global perceptions of the ‘post-Soviet’ region — an intellectual habit with important political consequences, as made evident after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine on 24 February 2022.

The polemics between two Marxists — a prominent Russian and a largely forgotten Ukrainian — took place almost 110 years ago but remain strikingly relevant. This debate not only reveals the oppressive potential of universalist projects in an imperial context, but also highlights deep-seated tensions within Marxist thought as such. It brings to light questions of structure and agency, diversity and unity, and universalism and particularism that remain relevant to contemporary emancipatory struggles.

Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels devoted relatively little attention to nationalism as a distinct problem. While they acknowledged that nationalism of the oppressed could, in some cases, contribute to the workers’ struggle, they ultimately saw it as an ideology intended to create an illusory unity between the working class and the bourgeoisie, thereby obscuring the fundamentally antagonistic nature of their class interests. This perception of national identity as nothing but an artificially sustained ‘false consciousness’ became a widely accepted view among social democrats of various tendencies for decades.1 Within social democracy, debates on this issue were driven by the need to formulate a programme that could accurately assess the moment and identify the most effective strategies for advancing the working class toward revolution — a challenge that was also central to Lenin’s objectives.

Lenin found himself fighting the political battle on two fronts. On one side, he faced Jewish, Caucasian, and Ukrainian socialists who advocated for reorganizing the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party (RSDLP) into a federation of national parties and, partly inspired by Austro-Marxism, sought to incorporate the principle of extraterritorial autonomy for minorities into the party programme. Lenin firmly opposed both demands, viewing them as leading toward the potential dissolution of the party and, consequently, weakening the labour movement. On the other side, he clashed with members who shared the perspective of Luxemburg. Based on her analysis of capitalism’s economic dynamics, Luxemburg argued that imperialist domination by the great powers created not only profound social inequalities but also increasingly favourable conditions for class struggle and proletarian victory. In such circumstances, any defence of national particularisms would be at odds with the logic of historical development.2 To outmanoeuvre these conflicting tendencies, Lenin proposed a dual approach: he introduced the principle of ‘the right of nations to self-determination’ into the party programme while simultaneously emphasizing the need for the absolute unity of workers from all nations within a centralized party structure.

Still today, socialist debates on nationalism often bring to mind the well-known polemic between Lenin and Luxemburg. Yet, despite its prominence, Lenin’s disagreement with Luxemburg on this issue was less profound than his divergence with the Austro-Marxists and their followers. Prominent Austro-Marxist theorists, Otto Bauer and Karl Renner, argued that national cultures, with all their unique characteristics, held intrinsic value warranting preservation and accommodation within a socialist framework.3 In contrast, both Lenin and Luxemburg shared a vision of progress and history wherein the ultimate aim of human development involved ‘promoting and greatly accelerating the drawing together and fusion of the nations’.4 Lenin proposed, however, a distinct political strategy, arguing that the nationalism of oppressed groups held a unique potential to advance the struggle against the bourgeois state and thus accelerate the victory of the proletariat. He advocated in favour of using the energy of the oppressed nations for the benefit of the worker’s revolution.5 Their debate, therefore, centred not on the ultimate goal of the socialist project, but rather on the means by which to achieve it.

He aligned with Luxemburg on the positive role of large states in advancing progress, believing that fragmentation of existing large states would represent a setback for working-class interests. Nevertheless, as the economic advantages of large states are simply too compelling to abandon, Lenin argued there is no need to fear temporary separations.6 Moreover, such separations could certainly be avoided altogether if a Social Democrat from the oppressor nation were to earn the trust of oppressed nations by endorsing their right to secede, while a Social Democrat from an oppressed nation advocated for ‘voluntary integration’.7 In essence, advocating for separation in present rhetoric would, in practice, lay the groundwork for future social and economic unification.

It is essential to keep in mind that, before 1917, Lenin’s primary objective was neither to produce a comprehensive theoretical analysis of nationalism nor to propose a practical solution to the problem of national oppression, whether under capitalism or socialism. His priority was to develop a strategy that would secure his party’s political hegemony within the working class across the broadest possible territorial scale, ultimately aimed at seizing power and spreading the revolution across the globe. In the initial stage of the revolution, supporting secessionist rights was a strategic necessity to secure the support — or at least the neutrality — of oppressed national groups at this critical juncture. In the subsequent stage, once power was seized, he anticipated that these groups would integrate naturally into a single, centralized socialist state, never fully addressing the possibility of a socialist state choosing to remain independent.

Lenin’s theses faced strong criticism from both ‘federalists’ and ‘luxemburgists’. Notably, in both cases, the leading figures of these critiques were from Ukraine. In 1916, Georgii Piatakov and Evgeniia Bosh called for the removal of the party programme’s article on the right of nations to self-determination. Lenin’s tactical manoeuvres did not satisfy Piatakov, who prioritized ideological consistency. How, Piatakov questioned, could one advocate the right of nations to self-determination while simultaneously opposing its practical application? For him, democracy was unattainable under capitalism, rendering democratic slogans a mere deception of the masses, while under socialism, with the eradication of economic exploitation and oppression, both personal and national, such slogans would be simply irrelevant. Following the February Revolution, Piatakov and Bosh assumed leadership of the Bolshevik party in Kyiv and their convictions largely shaped the organization’s stance toward the Ukrainian national movement.8

On the eve of the 1917 revolution, Lev Yurkevych, a Ukrainian Marxist theorist and founding member of the Ukrainian Social Democratic Workers’ Party, published a brochure critically examining Lenin’s programme on the national question.9 He not only analysed Lenin’s writings, but also critiqued them in light of the Bolshevik party’s political practice. He observed, for instance, that despite their stated programme, the Bolsheviks ‘never denounced national oppression’ in their activities in Ukraine. At a party conference held in Kharkiv, Yurkevych noted, ‘not a single word was said about Ukraine’s national oppression and its “right to self-determination”’. On the contrary, he argued, Russian social democrats in Ukraine consistently ‘took advantage of the consequences of this oppression to extend their influence’.10

Indeed, when addressing the cultural and linguistic russification of workers in 1913 and polemicizing against Yurkevych, Lenin argued that Ukraine was an exemplary case to illustrate its intrinsically progressive nature. He explained that the economic development had drawn hundreds of thousands of ethnic Russians to Ukraine and this influx had led to ‘indisputable’ and ‘undoubtedly progressive’ assimilation. Russification was transforming the ‘ignorant, conservative, settled’ peasant into a mobile proletarian. The ‘historically progressive nature’ of this assimilation was as clear for Lenin as the ‘grinding down of nations in America’. To oppose this process ‘would be a downright betrayal of socialism and a silly policy even from the standpoint of the bourgeois “national aims” of the Ukrainians’. The reason was simple: the only force capable of standing up to the Ukrainians' oppressors — Polish and Russian landlords — ‘is none other than the working class, which rallies the democratic peasantry behind it’.11

Several aspects of Lenin’s reasoning merit our attention. First is his sudden ‘oblivion’ regarding the imperial character of Russian internal state governance, which becomes apparent when he compares the russification of subjugated populations in the Russian Empire to the American ‘melting pot’ of mostly immigrant communities. Applying a free-market logic to the socio-cultural realm, Lenin contended that the task of Social Democrats was to eliminate privileges for all languages, allowing ‘the requirements of economic exchange to determine which language in a given country it is to the advantage of the majority to know for the sake of commercial relations’.12 Yurkevych countered that the Russification of Ukrainians is not the outcome of voluntary choice by individuals free of constraint; rather, it is made possible through colonial expansion, uneven economic development between urban and rural areas, and political and economic coercion.13 Advocating for ‘equality’ of languages within such entrenched social and cultural inequalities effectively endorses the law of the strongest. However, what Yurkevych perceived as an expression of both cynicism and imperialism is, for Lenin, a consistent internationalist stance.

For the Bolshevik leader, the fact that the Russian language was state-promoted and equipped with all the necessary infrastructure to foster a high literary culture, while other languages’ development was deliberately obstructed, presents no issue. He stated, indeed, that he would likely support giving every resident of Russia the opportunity ‘to learn the great Russian language’; the only thing he does not want is to send people to ‘paradise’ by force. The coercion would only ‘hinder the great and mighty Russian language from spreading to other national groups’.14 This stance is not to be interpreted, however, as an expression of Russian supremacism. It is rather a logical outcome of a perspective that views distinctions as obstacles to be overcome and assumes the desirability of a future where diversity will merge into a single, universal whole. For Lenin, the Russian language represents simply the most ‘practical’ choice for realizing this supposedly non-national ideal.

Analysing this early twentieth-century polemic through the lens of a late twentieth-century post-Marxist critique, we could argue that Lenin’s stance exemplifies what Cornelius Castoriadis has identified as a broader tendency within Marxist thought to naturalize capitalist social imaginary, with its supremacy of efficiency.15 For Lenin, language is ultimately reduced to a functional tool for economic utility. This utilitarian perspective echoes the capitalist logic that everything — including language, culture, and human relations — should be subordinated to productivity. In this sense, Lenin’s position aligns with a capitalist outlook that values culture only insofar as it serves the ends of production. By advocating for the elimination of linguistic privileges while implicitly assuming the dominance of Russian, it also reveals an underlying belief that equality requires uniformity.

Yurkevych pointed out the practical political consequences of Lenin’s position that praised the assimilation of workers into the imperial culture. He argued that although through Russification a Ukrainian may have gained access to education and, with it, some progressive and emancipatory ideas, he is no longer able to transmit these ideas to members of his original peasant community. Russified Ukrainians develop shame and contempt not only for their own culture and language but, more significantly, for their community of origin, leading them to turn their backs on its needs, interests and aspirations. Russification of the Ukrainian proletariat thus contributes, according to Yurkevych, to alienating city workers from their rural counterparts, thereby ‘breaking the unity of the workers’ movement and hindering its development’.16

For Yurkevych, when workers of an oppressed nation are thus divided, they become easy targets for nationalist reactionary parties that exploit these divisions. In his view, Bolsheviks’ practical promotion of assimilation alongside the rhetoric advocating separation was not merely hypocritical but openly harmful. Yurkevych pointed to the fact that Lenin insisted on interpreting the right to national self-determination strictly as a right to secession, firmly rejecting any calls for federalism or autonomy. Indeed, in his private letter to Stepan Shaumian, Lenin even emphasized that the ‘right to self-determination is an exception to our general premise of centralization’ that ‘must not be anything more than the right to secede’.17 A call for independence was, however, seen as dangerous by Ukrainian Marxists, who confined themselves to calls for autonomy inside a common federalist state. Most of them were conscious that in the conditions where more than 90% of Ukrainian population were illiterate peasants, and where democratic institutions and civic consciousness were practically inexistent, full state independence would mean the victory of a foreign bourgeoisie over the poorly organized indigenous masses. For Yurkevych, Lenin’s rhetorical radicalism was a manifestation of his disregard for workers and peasants of oppressed nations. The Bolsheviks’ stance, he argued, strengthened the agenda of right-wing nationalists at the expense of local progressive forces.

The polemic brings to light another crucial issue in Marxism: who constitutes the working class, and who, in practical and theoretical terms, acts as the agent of its emancipation? Both Lenin and Yurkevych would agree that ‘the emancipation of the working class must be the act of the working class itself’. Yet their implicit definitions of the working class reveal different conceptions of agency and emancipation. Lenin envisions a mobile proletariat, transcending local identities and cultural particularities — a universal revolutionary force (represented, in practice, within the context of Ukraine by the Russian-speaking industrial worker). In this framework, ‘backward’ peasants are positioned as followers, to be guided by this universal agent toward liberation. For Yurkevych, however, true emancipation requires recognizing the specific conditions, interests and identities of different working-class populations, including Ukrainian peasants who constitute its majority.

Yurkevych draws an intriguing parallel between Lenin’s views and those of Alexander Herzen,18 a prominent Russian intellectual who, in 1859, affirmed Poland’s ‘total and inalienable right to independence from Russia’, while simultaneously arguing that such a separation was not desirable from his perspective. Herzen reasoned that if Poland seceded immediately, it would weaken the democratic movement and thus reduce the prospects for revolution in Russia. After a democratic revolution in Russia, he believed, Poland’s departure would no longer be necessary. For both Herzen and Lenin, these positions were not motivated by Great Russian nationalism or a desire to dominate other peoples. Instead, they considered themselves champions of a universalist project of emancipation. Yet both shared a conviction that it was their community that would serve as the primary agents of this liberatory mission. Both believed it was the Russian ‘people’ — be it the Russian pre-modern peasant obshchina for Herzen, or the Russian modern proletariat for Lenin — who would lead the path to liberation, first for their neighbours and eventually for all humanity.

Yurkevych was just one of many Ukrainian socialists, including some Bolshevik members, who raised similar critiques of Lenin.19 All pointed to the contrast between theoretical praise for bottom-up liberation and the practical refusal to account for local contexts and the specific interests of non-Russian groups. Laclau and Mouffe’s conception of socialist strategy offers a useful theoretical parallel to these early critics,20 suggesting that political hegemony requires a coalition of diverse social identities, each retaining its specific demands and particularities within a broader framework of solidarity. The working class, in this view, is not monolithic but a diverse collection of groups. This perspective challenges the notion of a singular, universalist agent of change and instead advocates for a model where agency is expressed through specific historical and cultural contexts. It demands a democratic, self-organized approach to liberation. In Yurkevych’s critique, we see an early articulation of the risks of a ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach to socialism — an approach that, when applied to (post-)imperial contexts, reinforces oppression rather than dismantles it.

A short quote from the Resolutions of the Summer 1913 Joint Conference of the Central Committee of the R.S.D.L.P. and Party Officials can exemplify the authoritarian potential of the Marxist conception of historical ‘laws’ of development that Castoriadis later critiqued. It states that the right of nations to self-determination ‘must under no circumstances be confused with the expediency of a given nation’s secession’. It is the party that ‘must decide the latter question exclusively on its merits in each particular case in conformity with the interests of social development as a whole and with the interests of the proletarian class struggle for socialism’.21 And since the Bolsheviks regard their organization as the vanguard of the proletariat, uniquely equipped to grasp the logic of history and the true interests of the working class, it ultimately falls to the party leadership to determine whether a particular national liberation struggle is legitimate. In other words, by assuming history has an objectively knowable direction and by claiming a scientific understanding of this trajectory, leaders position themselves and their organizations as interpreters of historical necessity, granting them the authority to impose a ‘correct’ path on the very groups they claim to represent.22 It reveals a disregard for the agency of the population as well as an underlying belief that one has the authority to engineer society from above, and to treat it as an object to be rationally organized and directed according to the needs of an impersonal force of History. This instrumental approach treats populations as stepping stones in a larger project, rather than autonomous agents with their own legitimate aspirations capable of acting independently. In other words, instead of breaking with capitalist imaginary, it perpetuates its logic of ‘rational mastery’.23

In Yurkevych's words, Russian socialists’ ‘adulation for large states and centralism’ undermines any genuine internationalist perspective.24 Lenin, in seeking ‘not only to put an end to the fragmentation of mankind into small states and to the particularism of nations, not only to bring nations closer together, but also to achieve their fusion’, had positioned himself not as a spokesman for internationalism but ‘for the modern system of great-power centralism’.25 It can be argued that this critique reveals a deeper tension over the very meaning of modernity and progress. It exposes different assumptions about the ultimate telos of human development — whether progress means the rational unification of diverse groups into a singular, cohesive entity or whether it allows for the coexistence of diverse and thus potentially divergent groups.

One conception views centralized states and homogenized societies as an inevitable outcome of human progress, seeing diversity as an obstacle to it. In this sense, it reflects a ‘fantasy of totality’,26 where the ideal is a universal order achieved by eliminating particularities and consolidating smaller entities into a unified, rationalized system. Another conception envisions modernity as compatible with pluralism, difference and decentralization. This view of modernity values local governance, democratic participation and a decentralized structures that empowers different groups to control their destinies within a cooperative framework. More generally, it reflects a scepticism toward the totalizing ideal, highlighting the potential dangers in pursuing a universalist model that erases particularities.27

One might argue that Lenin and some other Bolsheviks ultimately recognized and allowed the differences to contribute to the Soviet project, as seen in the introduction of the New Economic Policy and korenizatsiia after their precarious and costly victory in the civil war. However, one must look past the trees to see the forest: the ultimate telos of the Bolshevik project remained the fusion of all differences into a single, unified totality where all meaningful distinctions — and thus all potential for conflict — would and thus should disappear. What shifted was not the goal but the time horizon — if in 1917 it seemed achievable in the near future, by 1923 it had become a more distant objective. Diversity was tolerated on the condition that it would eventually be transcended. Under Stalin, previous caution was abandoned in favour of an aggressive push to eliminate any elements perceived as threats to unity. The totalizing impulse was unleashed in full.

It should be stressed, however, that the idea of socialism as containing an ‘inherent’ totalizing essence is rather misleading. As Castoriadis argued, modernity is not a monolithic project but a dynamic and ongoing tension between competing significations: the impulse toward rational mastery and homogeneity on one side, and the potential for pluralism, self-limitation and democratic autonomy on the other.28 Socialism, as a modern project, also contains both of these logics within itself, meaning that it is not bound to a totalizing vision. If socialism is to fulfil its emancipatory promise, as Laclau and Mouffe suggest, it must accept that any unity will be a contingent and provisional outcome, never permanently resolved. In this sense, political structures should not be vehicles to enforce a ‘correct’ path but should remain open to continuous critique. The capacity of socialism to resist totalization thus depends on its commitment to multiplicity and contestation, recognizing diversity and antagonism as essential to the social fabric. This approach implies, though, that democratic socialism always contains the seeds of its own undoing. Here lies, for Castoriadis, the tragic aspect of democracy: the same conditions that enable continuous renewal also expose it to the risk of being co-opted by forces that may exploit its freedoms to impose a closed, totalizing system in which questioning is no longer allowed.29

The enduring influence of Lenin’s ideas on radical left thought has profound implications, shaping how questions of diversity, autonomy and self-determination are understood – and, in many cases, misunderstood. Certainly in the mid-twentieth century, critical theorists in the West began revisiting the arguments of Rosa Luxemburg, Council Communists and others who had foreseen the dangers of centralism as they took root in Bolsheviks’ practice. However, despite a growing recognition that a commitment to diversity is essential to prevent emancipatory movements from devolving into dictatorship, the left-wing critics of Marxism-Leninism were slow to grasp not just its authoritarian but also its imperialist dimensions.

The Western left has historically been more attuned to the perspectives of the Russian imperial centre than to those of the peripheries. As a result, by prioritizing perspectives from Moscow and St Petersburg, the Western left often perpetuates the imperial blind spots of their Russian counterparts. Viewing national emancipation struggles through the eyes of Russian Marxists may, for instance, result in failing to recognize the intrinsic value that sovereignty, autonomy and cultural distinctiveness may represent for the oppressed populations.

As evidenced above, prior to the Bolshevik seizure of power, socialists from Ukraine had already voiced concerns about both the authoritarian and imperialist tendencies embedded in Bolshevik theory and political strategy. They argued that a genuinely socialist society must balance unity with respect for both political and cultural diversity, cautioning that disregarding these differences would inevitably lead to authoritarianism and the betrayal of emancipatory ideals. The lack of critical evaluation of Soviet imperialism from the left can be attributed, in part, to the fact that these early warnings from non-Russian socialists within the imperial peripheries were overlooked or simply dismissed. Acknowledging them reveals a richer and more diverse socialist tradition, one that underscores the importance of balancing unity with diversity — an issue that remains as relevant today as it was in the early twentieth century and will undoubtedly remain so in the future.

Hanna Perekhoda is a historian from Donetsk, Ukraine, and a Ph.D. candidate at the Institute of Political Studies, University of Lausanne. Her doctoral research focuses on the hegemonic struggles over Ukrainian territoriality and the definition of its eastern limits during the 1917 revolution and civil war, with a particular interest in antagonisms within the Bolshevik Party. In addition to her academic work, she has written extensively on Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, placing it within broader historical context.

References

Bauman, Zygmunt. Modernity and Ambivalence. New edition, 1991; repr., Polity Press, 1993. 

Blum, Mark E. and William Smaldone. Austro-Marxism: The Ideology of Unity. Volume 1: Austro-Marxist Theory and Strategy. Brill: Leiden 2016.

Castoriadis, Cornelius, The Imaginary Institution of Society. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1987. 

Castoriadis, Cornelius. World in Fragments: Writing on Politics, Society, Psychoanalysis, and the Imagination. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997.

Haupt, Georges, Michaël Löwy and Claudie Weill. Les Marxistes et La Question Nationale1848–1914. Paris: L’Harmattan, 1997.

Iurkevych, Levko. Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty i Natsionalʹne Pitannia. 1917; repr., Kyiv: Ukrainsʹka pres-hrupa, 2012.

Laclau, Ernesto and Chantal Mouffe. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics. Second edition, 1985; repr., London: Verso, 2014. 

Lenin, Vladimir. Collected Works. Volume 19, March – December 1913. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977. 

Lenin, Vladimir. Collected Works. Volume 20, December 1913 – August 1914. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977. 

Lenin, Vladimir. Collected Works. Volume 22, December 1915 – July 1916. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977.

Luxemburg, Rosa. The Accumulation of Capital. 1913, repr. Routledge, Abingdon, 2003. 

Shakhrai, Vasyl and Serhii Mazlakh. Оп the Current Situation in the Ukraine. 1919; repr., Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1970. 

Shahrai, Vasyl. Revoliutsiia na Ukraine. 1918; repr., Odessa: TES, 2017. 

Scott, James C. Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1998. 

Soldatenko, Valerii. Georgii Piatakov: Opponent Lenina, Sopernik Stalina. Moscow: ROSSPEN, 2017.

  • 1

    Haupt, Löwy, and Weill, Les Marxistes.

  • 2

    Luxemburg, The Accumulation of Capital.

  • 3

    Blum and Smaldone, Austro-Marxism.

  • 4

    Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 22, 324.

  • 5

    Haupt, Löwy, and Weill, Les Marxistes.

  • 6

    Vladimir Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 20, 423.

  • 7

    Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 22, 347.

  • 8

    Soldatenko, Georgii Piatakov.

  • 9

    Iurkevych, Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty.

  • 10

    Ibid., 27, 37.

  • 11

    Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 20, 30–1.

  • 12

    Ibid., 21.

  • 13

    Iurkevych, Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty, 36.

  • 14

    Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 20, 72–3.

  • 15

    Castoriadis, The Imaginary Institution of Society.

  • 16

    Iurkevych, Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty, 37.

  • 17

    Lenin’s emphasis. Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 19, 501.

  • 18

    Iurkevych, Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty, 12–18.

  • 19

    See, for example, Shakhrai and Mazlakh, Оп the Current Situation in the Ukraine; and Shahrai, Revoliutsiia.

  • 20

    Laclau and Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy.

  • 21

    Lenin, Collected Works. Volume 19, 429.

  • 22

    Castoriadis, The Imaginary Institution of Society, 56–67.

  • 23

    For an alternative articulation of this idea, see Scott, Seeing Like a State.

  • 24

    Iurkevych, Rosiisʹki Sotsial-Demokraty, 24.

  • 25

    Ibid., 28.

  • 26

    Laclau and Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy.

  • 27

    It must be acknowledged that the conception of modernity prioritizing pluralism and decentralization is fraught with internal contradictions. A full exploration of these complexities lies beyond the scope of this discussion. For a deeper engagement with these contradictions, see, for example, Bauman, Modernity and Ambivalence.

  • 28

    Castoriadis, World in Fragments, 37–8.

  • 29

    Ibid., 93.