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Wednesday, May 20, 2026

 

Cuba between the great powers


Khrushchev and Fidel

First published in Polish in Gazeta Wyborcza. Translation and footnotes by Adam Novak from Europe Solidaire Sans Frontières.

What can a state do when faced with an overwhelmingly stronger power seeking to subjugate it or maintain its dominance over it? Often it must turn for help to another power — hostile to or competing with the first — or even seek refuge under its umbrella. In doing so it often risks going from the frying pan into the fire. After the Second World War, until around 1990, the risk was all the greater because the world was perceived as bipolar, even as more and more countries broke loose from the orbits of both superpowers.

Such a risk became Cuba’s when, as a result of the Castroist revolution, it broke out of the American sphere of influence. Facing a siege by a hostile superpower, the revolution desperately sought, and found, an ally in the Soviet Union. It quickly became apparent that the alliance threatened the loss of independence. Fidel Castro would fight to preserve it for more than ten years, repeatedly balancing on the brink of breaking the alliance.

A colony in the republic

The revolution was a real one — like the Yugoslav, Chinese or Vietnamese. Moreover, unlike those, in Cuba it was not “made” by communists, and so by its very nature it offered strong resistance to Sovietisation. Even when its leaders decided to ally with the local communists, and even themselves to become communists — but “new” ones. The catch was that the “old” communists, with whom the alliance of the “new” was as inevitable as the alliance of the revolution itself with the USSR, sided with the Soviets, which undermined from within the intention to preserve independence from the international ally. The struggle for that independence therefore had to be fought on two interconnected fronts — external and internal.

The revolution, victorious in January 1959, took place in a country which half a century earlier had won independence from Spain — through a war of liberation, true — but had fallen into deep dependence on the United States. The American army had intervened in that war in order to take over, worldwide, almost the entire colonial inheritance from this old and declining power, Cuba included. Even after the abrogation in 1934 of the so-called Platt Amendment,1 which had bound Cuba hand and foot, the country remained — as the nineteenth-century Cuban poet and independence leader José Martí said of such states — a “colony within a republic”. A colony to a degree matched by few other Latin American republics.

The revolution, which began as a struggle against the Batista dictatorship, quickly turned into a confrontation with United States interests — economic and political alike. After two years of guerrilla war, Fidel Castro’s Rebel Army forced the government troops to capitulate and seized power, and the revolution very quickly collided with the “colony within the republic” and swept it away. And because the “colony within the republic” was above all American capital in the economy, in uprooting the colony it overthrew capitalism itself through sweeping nationalisations. The revolution did so just a few months before the second anniversary of its victory.

Those putschists need to be dealt with!

Who were those who at the turn of 1956 and 1957 launched the guerrilla war? Ernesto Che Guevara, asked about this in a guerrilla camp by the Argentine journalist Jorge Masetti,2 explained: “Politically, Fidel and his movement could be called ’revolutionary-nationalist’.” Rightly so — except that it was not a narrow nationalism, but Cuban and also Latin American, similar to the panarabism of the time. “The fatherland is America” — that “Our America” as Martí called it, Latin America — and they were martianos: they regarded themselves as the ideological heirs of that hero of the war of independence.

Did they have anything in common with the communists of the Popular Socialist Party (PSP)3 at that point? At first nothing. When on 26 July 1953 Castro first attempted to ignite an uprising against the recently installed Batista dictatorship, attacking the Moncada barracks in Santiago with his men, the communist party sharply denounced this as a “putschist adventure”. This was the major bone of contention — greater than any other ideological-political divergence. The slogan from Moscow addressed to the communist parties was clear: the peaceful road to socialism… which, the Castroists ironised, one would follow ad calendas Graecas.4

The following fact illustrates how great a bone of contention the insurrectionary ethos of the revolutionary nationalists was with the communists, and what consequences it sometimes had. On 13 March 1957, when guerrilla war was already underway in the Sierra Maestra, 46 fighters of the Revolutionary Directorate, founded by the student union leader José Antonio Echeverría, stormed the presidential palace with him at their head to kill Batista. Almost all died on the spot. Four survived and went into hiding, but, on the basis of an informer’s tip, the police tracked them down and murdered them.

Seven years later it would turn out that they had been betrayed by a university classmate, a communist who, on instructions from his party, had infiltrated the Directorate. He would confess in court that he had done so on ideological grounds — specifically because of his party’s hostility to such putschist methods of struggle, as they appeared in its eyes.

Plains and mountain revolutionaries

The “plains” — that is, the underground urban wing — of the 26th of July Movement related to the communists with great mistrust. Many activists of this movement proclaimed that the USSR was an imperialist power, like the United States. Others — for example Armando Hart and the son of Polish-Jewish immigrants Enrique Oltuski5 — moreover read with approval Trotsky’s writings on the “degeneration” of the Soviet state and on Stalinism in the communist movement in general. At the same time the head of the National Workers’ Front of the 26th of July Movement was a Trotskyist activist, the railwayman Ñico Torres. Former Trotskyists who had once joined the revolutionary nationalists, while retaining their previous political views, were also active in the 26th of July Movement.

In the last months of 1958, when the Rebel Army went on the offensive, the communists began to cooperate with it. They were a potentially important ally, since the 26th of July Movement lacked their kind of social base in the labour movement. In the “mountain” — that is, the guerrilla — wing of the 26th of July Movement, in Castro’s closest entourage, two of the other three main commanders — Raúl Castro, Fidel’s younger brother, and Guevara — represented pro-communist and pro-Soviet views. Raúl had earlier belonged to the communist youth, and in Mexico, when Fidel was organising the insurgent landing on Cuba, it was Raúl who recruited the Argentine, when it turned out that the latter shared his pro-Soviet orientation. Striving to ensure that the revolution would become socialist, they considered that without the communists it could not be done, and so, in order to draw them in, both — still in the guerrilla period — even joined the PSP, concealing this from Fidel.

Because of his views, Guevara had political clashes at that time with the leaders of the “plains” wing of the movement. After a year of armed struggle in the Sierra Maestra he wrote to René Ramos Latour,6 national chief of Action and Sabotage of the 26th of July Movement: 

Owing to my ideological background I belong to those who believe that the solution to the world’s problems lies behind the so-called Iron Curtain, while I treat this movement as one of the many provoked by the bourgeoisie’s desire to break the economic chains of imperialism. I have always regarded Fidel as an authentic leader of the bourgeoisie’s left wing, although his extraordinary personal qualities raise him very far above his own class. With this disposition I entered the struggle — honestly speaking, without hope of going beyond the framework of national liberation, and prepared to leave when at a later stage the conditions of the struggle would cause the movement as a whole to turn to the right.

Ramos Latour replied: 

We want a strong [Latin] America that would be mistress of her own fate, an America that would stand up proudly to the United States, Russia, China or any power seeking to encroach on her economic and political independence. By contrast, those with your ideological preparation believe that the answer to our ills is to free ourselves from the harmful domination of the ’Yankees’ by establishing the no less harmful domination of the ’Soviets’.

Behind Fidel’s back

Soon the leadership of the 26th of July Movement passed from the urban underground — towards which Guevara was mistrustful, convinced that it represented the right, bourgeois wing of the movement — into the hands of the Rebel Army command. And the latter, he assured, “is already ideologically proletarian” — though he never explained how it had become so, operating in the Sierra Maestra, beyond a vague statement that this was the result of “a process of proletarianisation of our thinking, a revolution taking place in our habits and minds”.

After the victory Fidel, realising that Guevara was working with Raúl behind his back and that the two of them were placing communists in many positions in the apparatus of power, in fact pushed Guevara aside for some time, sending him — as a representative of the new Cuban authorities — on a long journey to Third World states and to Yugoslavia.

At the end of October 1960, when the overthrow of capitalism in Cuba had reached a point of no return not only with the full support but actually under the leadership of Castro himself, it seemed that he, Guevara and Raúl were now walking the same path together. This was an illusion, as is known today after the opening of the post-Soviet archives. Guevara, then president of the central bank, arrived on a trade and economic mission to Moscow, where, accompanied by the secretaries of the PSP Executive Bureau, Aníbal Escalante and Manuel Luzardo, he met with CPSU dignitaries — Suslov, Kosygin, Mikoyan and Ponomarev. In the official Soviet record of these talks one reads something hitherto unimaginable to historians of the Cuban revolution and to Guevara’s biographers:

Comrade Escalante asks the Soviet side to take into account that he can negotiate with Comrade E. Guevara beyond the prerogatives of the trade and economic mission, because recently Comrade Guevara, together with Comrade Raúl Castro, has been promoted to the leadership of the PSP, although a very small circle of persons know about this and it is being kept secret from Fidel Castro.” And further: “Although the latter does not know that his brother Raúl and Guevara are communists, he knows very well that they work in close contact with the party, and even jokes sometimes that they are the PSP’s representatives in the revolutionary government.

At the same time the Soviet ambassador in Havana reported with alarm to the Kremlin that there was considerable friction with Guevara, as he was violently criticising the Latin American communist parties — arguing that they “do not exploit the revolutionary situation, behave like cowards, do not go to the mountains and do not begin open struggle”, armed struggle, naturally, on the Cuban model.

Moscow looks askance

In April 1961 Castro formally consecrated the overthrow of capitalism by proclaiming the socialist character of the revolution. He did so literally on the eve of the landing at Playa Girón of an armed brigade of Cuban exiles supported by the United States, which was to march on Havana. Once it landed, the brigade was unable to get off the beach: first it was held there by workers’, students’ and peasants’ militias, and then crushed by the still small Rebel Army. Before this happened, the besieged and desperate revolution had turned to the only ally it could realistically find — the Soviet Union. The world’s second superpower lay very far away, in another hemisphere, so Castro presumed that he would manage to conclude the alliance while preserving independence — without becoming a satellite, without succumbing to structural assimilation, in other words: Sovietisation.

In the Moscow press it was on the one hand suggested that Cuba owed its victory at Playa Girón partly to the Soviets, and on the other the declaration of the socialist character of the revolution was passed over, because in the Kremlin it had met with a clearly negative reaction. Cuba dared to consider itself the Soviets’ equal! According to the Soviet canon, there could be not only no socialist revolution but not even a “people’s-democratic” one where the leadership was not undivided in the hands of a communist party recognised as “theirs” by Moscow. Like the Nasserist revolution in Egypt, the Castroist revolution deserved in Soviet eyes only the lowest title in the hierarchy — “national-democratic revolution”. But the Cuban revolution had overthrown capitalism, Castro reasoned. In Moscow that was not what counted. It is significant that when the former guerrilla commander Faure Chomón, serving as Cuban ambassador in the USSR, said publicly “we, communists”, it caused outrage there.

Castro brings order

In the summer of 1961, from the 26th of July Movement, the Revolutionary Directorate of 13 March and the Popular Socialist Party, Castro formed the Integrated Revolutionary Organisations (ORI7) with a view to building a single party. And at the end of the year, attempting to bring some order to this “disorder” in accordance with the standards prevailing in the communist world, he announced that he was a Marxist-Leninist. Organisational integration and ideological standardisation rapidly produced a powerful crisis. Under the leadership of the aforementioned Aníbal Escalante8 the communists immediately used their experience in building party apparatuses to take over the apparatuses of the ORI, through them to place their own people in state institutions, to uproot those who had made the revolution, and to prepare themselves to take power. If the revolution was socialist — and Castro himself had proclaimed this — then power now belonged to the communists, while he should be left to play the role of Kerensky.

Oltuski would recall: 

In Che’s presence a certain extremist attacked the 26th of July Movement. After some hesitation I ventured to reply: it is true that we did not know Marxism at all and did not belong to the party, but perhaps it is precisely for that reason that we overthrew Batista. Che agreed with me.

Now sparks flew not only between Guevara and the communist parties of Latin America, but also between him and the Cuban communists.

The ORI lasted less than eight months. In March 1962 Castro, without attacking the communists as such, declared that the ORI had been taken over by “sectarianism” under the leadership of Escalante. He dismantled the apparatuses he had just built, forced the recall of the Soviet ambassador — whom he regarded as an accomplice or instigator of the “sectarianism” — and ordered the construction of a new United Party of the Socialist Revolution (PURSC9). He filled its leadership with his own people from the guerrilla and the underground, and with selected, reliably loyal communists. Escalante he exiled to Moscow.

That same year the conflict between Castro and the former guerrillas with their own communists extended sharply into relations with the strategic ally itself. This happened during what is variously called the October, missile or Caribbean crisis.

Missiles in Cuba

The 1962 crisis had its origins eighteen months earlier, after the defeat of the counter-revolutionary brigade at Playa Girón. Paradoxically, the victory there had increased the Cuban sense of threat, this time from direct US military intervention. The Kennedy administration was regarded in Havana as openly hostile to the revolution. The alliance with the Soviet Union was deemed the only real security guarantee, which Moscow exploited for an extraordinary move: Cuba was offered the deployment of Soviet nuclear weapons on the island.

Today it is known that this was not a Cuban initiative but the result of Moscow’s geopolitical strategic calculations in the arena of superpower rivalry. The Cubans agreed, but pressed for the move to be made openly, since they considered this would be safer. Nikita Khrushchev, however, pushed through the operation in strict secrecy. The Cuban side was right — when it came to light, the world stood on the brink of nuclear war.

Kennedy received irrefutable proof of the deployment of Soviet missiles in Cuba — contrary to Moscow’s earlier repeated denials. Now therefore Khrushchev maintained that they were purely defensive, appealing at the same time to the Americans for restraint. American intelligence, however, had a poor grasp of the situation, as the then secretary of defence Robert McNamara would learn only thirty years later in Havana, at a conference on the crisis organised by Castro.10 The Americans thought that nuclear warheads were only on their way to Cuba, whereas 162 of them were already in place along with 42,000 Soviet troops. Having no idea of this, they intended to attack Cuba.

At the peak of the crisis Khrushchev proposed a solution: withdrawal of the missiles in exchange for a guarantee of non-aggression against Cuba and the withdrawal of American missiles from Turkey. Negotiations were conducted without Castro’s participation: not only was he left outside the decision-making process, with the crisis reduced to a bilateral conflict between the superpowers, but he was not even informed that negotiations were taking place. Castro’s demands that the crisis be resolved by obtaining American guarantees of the lifting of the blockade of Cuba, the cessation of sabotage and military actions against it, and the liquidation of the American military base at Guantánamo were ignored. What is more, having reached agreement with Kennedy, Khrushchev ordered the withdrawal of the missiles and troops from Cuba, again without coordinating this with Castro or notifying him of it. The Cubans suddenly saw the Soviets dismantling the launchers and leaving the island, which came as a shock to them.

Commenting on the October events of 1962 some years later, Castro stated that “the possibility of the Soviet Union withdrawing the missiles did not even occur to us”, and that after the crisis the Cuban revolution “stood before an ally in a state of complete retreat and almost beyond retreat — in a state of complete flight”, so that its security seemed even more uncertain than before the crisis erupted. Although he did not say so publicly, it is known today that he irreversibly lost trust in the Soviet Union as an ally.

A warning to the old communists

In Czechoslovakia the Cuban special services arrested Marcos Rodríguez, who was studying there and who in 1957 had handed over to Batista’s police four fighters — participants in the attack on the presidential palace. Chomón, former leader of the Revolutionary Directorate of 13 March, revealed that after the handover Rodríguez, who had left for Mexico, had been sheltered by a couple of high-placed old-party communist activists who were now even more highly placed as dignitaries. He accused this couple of having known that it was Rodríguez who had pointed out the fighters’ hideout.

This married couple were the de facto minister of culture Edith García Buchaca and the first deputy minister of the armed forces Joaquín Ordoqui. Castro intervened at Rodríguez’s trial in an effort to confront the threat of a wave of public hostility towards the old communists arising from this case.

At the same time he used the affair to remove García and Ordoqui from their posts and to stem the inflow of communists into the apparatuses of power, bringing their presence in those apparatuses down to safe proportions.

On the basis of denunciations well fabricated by the American special services and addressed to the Cuban services, Ordoqui was suspected of cooperating with the CIA, but Castro also held it against him that during the missile crisis he had stood politically not with Castro but with Khrushchev. He regarded him — probably rightly — as Moscow’s most important and most dangerous man in Havana. He wanted to put him on trial on the charge that he was, or had once been, a CIA agent, but under strong Soviet pressure he abandoned this. He nevertheless ordered him placed under house arrest together with his wife, where Ordoqui would die nine years after Rodríguez’s trial. The settling of accounts with Ordoqui — and incidentally with García — was a very serious warning to all those among the old communists who had not abandoned the thought that sooner or later Castro would yet share Kerensky’s fate, and that they would play the role of the Bolsheviks.

Comrade Che criticises the Soviets

Guevara had already broken with his earlier pro-Soviet orientation — and not only because the USSR was failing to meet many of the economic commitments it had taken on, or because it was delivering industrial goods of strikingly low quality. In 1964, then minister of industry, he travelled to the USSR for the celebrations of the anniversary of the October Revolution. His Mexican biographer Paco Ignacio Taibo II11 recounts: “Che cannot abandon his criticism, which is becoming sharper and sharper. He visits a Soviet factory presented to him as a model and, according to the account of one member of the delegation, says that it resembles a capitalist factory of the kind that existed in Cuba before they were nationalised” — that is, under conditions of capitalist underdevelopment. “He observes the aberrations in the field of planning, the traps of socialist competition, since he sees that planning is done so as to exceed the plan. He tells his comrades on the delegation that under the rule of bureaucratism the Soviets are heading into a dead end in the economic sphere.”

On his return he declared to the staff of his ministry: “Contrary to what is said, the countries of the Western European bloc are developing significantly faster than the countries of the people’s-democracies bloc. Why?” He recounted that in the USSR the bible was the (Stalinist) handbook Political Economy, not Marx’s Capital, and that he, Guevara, was regarded there as a Trotskyist. Although he was not a Trotskyist, to the economic debate he had initiated — which was a thinly veiled polemic between proponents of the Soviet economic model and its critics — he invited the Belgian Marxist economist and leading activist of the Fourth International, Ernest Mandel.12 Mandel was known for his devastating critique of Soviet economic planning and management.

Guevara had broken completely with the thought that “the solution to the world’s problems lies behind the Iron Curtain”, and decided that it lay in revolutions in the Third World. He himself, with more than a hundred Cuban military personnel, set off to assist the Lumumbist uprising in the Congo. After this failure, during his clandestine stay in Czechoslovakia, in his now well-known “Prague notebooks”13 he criticised the Soviet system, predicting its collapse. At the same time Cuba’s support for guerrilla movements in Latin America led to a prolonged — more than three years — strain in relations with Moscow. Perhaps even greater than during the missile crisis.

Castro versus the microfraction

It began in 1966 with an article published in the central Cuban party daily on the occasion of the anniversary of the October Revolution. In it “real” Latin American communists were called upon to follow the example of the Venezuelan guerrilla commander Douglas Bravo and his comrades. They had earlier been expelled from their communist party for refusing to cease armed struggle, but Castro promptly sent them over a dozen of his experienced officers to assist them.

In July 1967 the prime minister Kosygin, returning from Washington, came to Cuba where he told Castro that the Americans had proof that Cuba was supporting guerrillas in at least seven countries of the subcontinent, and demanded the cessation of this support under threat of breaking the alliance. Castro’s answer was his speech — the second on the subject — in which he subjected the Communist Party of Venezuela to a violent critique for having abandoned the guerrilla movement that the party itself had created and in support of which it had engaged Cuba.

In the Latin American communist movement linked to Moscow, and in Moscow itself, these speeches were taken as proof that Castro was breaking with communism. In Cuba, with the support of the Soviet bloc and under the leadership of Escalante, who had returned from exile, a section of the old communists — the so-called microfraction — entered the fight. It accused the Castroist regime of being petty-bourgeois, nationalist, non-Marxist, anti-Soviet and indeed anti-communist; of failing to recognise the leadership and hegemony of the USSR; of trying to replace the alliance with the USSR by an alliance with France; of seeking to bind itself to the Western economies instead of integrating economically with the Soviet bloc; and of pushing in Latin America — contrary to the policy of the communist parties and in accordance with what was alleged to be a “Trotskyist line of exporting the revolution” — the line of armed struggle.

At the end of the year Castro ordered the arrest of many activists involved in the “microfraction”, and in January 1968 their trial. The full detailed report of Raúl Castro on the investigation was made public, including the names of very high East German and Czechoslovak party dignitaries involved in support for the “microfraction”, as well as of Soviet functionaries present in Cuba itself who had assured the “microfraction” of support in Moscow. At a session of the Cuban Central Committee, Castro delivered a secret — today partly declassified — ten-hour speech in which he set out and documented the history of Cuban-Soviet relations, particularly the inside story of the missile crisis and its consequences for those relations.

Defeated by sugar cane

It seemed that relations with the allied superpower were hanging by a thread when, half a year later — to the surprise even of those closest to him — Castro supported the Warsaw Pact military intervention in Czechoslovakia. He did so, however, so ambiguously that in the Kremlin it was not taken as support. That this did nothing to improve relations was evidenced by the fact that almost a year later Cuba refused to take part in an international conference of pro-Soviet communist parties in Moscow.

Only in 1970 did the traumatic failure — for the regime and for society — of the record sugar cane harvest, voluntaristically planned to pave the way for Cuba’s independent economic development, force Castro to reconcile with Moscow. The latter put the matter clearly: either Cuba would accept the Soviet model of economic management, or the USSR — in fact the entire bloc — would cease to provide it with extensive aid.

This time Castro yielded — in 1971 Cuba joined the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (Comecon). With the participation of 10,000 Soviet specialists and advisers, the Cuban economy began to be vigorously integrated into the bloc. This economic Sovietisation entailed cultural as well as ideological and political Sovietisation. The first victim of Sovietisation on this front was the writer Heberto Padilla,14 compelled to make a public self-criticism, against which many intellectuals worldwide who had previously sympathised with the Cuban revolution protested.

The next victim was the monthly Pensamiento Crítico15 — a journal published by young philosophers proposing an alternative to Soviet “Marxism-Leninism”: an open Marxism — widely open to Western Marxism and to revolutionary thought from the Third World — as well as critical and creative. Raúl Castro accused the journal’s editorial board of ideological diversion. The notorious “grey five years” (1971—1975)16 cast a grim shadow over literary and artistic life for a long time. The Cuban intelligentsia took its revenge for this five-year period only in 2007, when it spontaneously conducted a mass, public and radically critical debate about it, and about cultural Sovietisation in general. It did not spare even Castro himself from harsh criticism.

Concessions to the processes of Sovietisation, however — contrary to all appearances — were incomplete, and Cuba continued to pursue a fundamentally independent international policy. It demonstrated this above all in 1975, when the fate of newly independent Angola was being decided. Troops of the racist Republic of South Africa were then advancing on the capital of this former Portuguese colony. Cuba came to the aid of the liberation movement. It carried out — unexpectedly for the great powers — an intercontinental military operation unprecedented for a small country. It did so on its own initiative, presenting a surprised Soviet Union with a fait accompli.

Zbigniew Marcin Kowalewski studies revolutionary movements. In 1975—79 he worked in Cuba. In 1981 he was a member of the presidium of the NSZZ “Solidarność” for the Łódź region and worked for workers’ self-management. His first book was Guerrilla latynoamerykańska (Latin American guerrilla, 1978); his most recent are Rap. Między Malcolmem X a subkulturą gangową. Naród Islamu w czarnej Ameryce (“Rap: between Malcolm X and gang subculture. The Nation of Islam in Black America”, 2020), Ukraińskie rewolucje (“Ukrainian revolutions”, 2022; French edition 2025), and To nie jest kraj dla wolnych ludzi. Sprawa polska w rewolucji haitańskiej (“This is no country for free men. The Polish question in the Haitian revolution”, 2025).

Adrianna Nowak graduated in philosophy from the University of Warsaw. She is preparing the defence of her MA thesis in history at the Jagiellonian University on the roles of women in pre- and post-revolutionary Cuba from a decolonial feminist perspective. She intends to research the history of the interaction of political and feminist ideas in Cuban revolutionary processes, as well as the history of Cuban-Soviet and Cuban-American relations. She has written on Cuba for the Polish edition of Le Monde diplomatique and for Gromady.

  • 1

    The Platt Amendment, attached to Cuba’s 1901 constitution at US insistence, granted Washington the right to intervene militarily in Cuban affairs and to lease territory for naval stations --- including the Guantánamo Bay base, which remains under US control today. Most of its provisions were abrogated in 1934 under the Roosevelt administration’s “Good Neighbor” policy, but the Guantánamo lease was maintained.

  • 2

    Founder of Prensa Latina, the Cuban press agency established after the revolution; killed in 1964 leading a guerrilla group in Argentina inspired by the Cuban model.

  • 3

    The Partido Socialista Popular was the official Cuban communist party, founded in 1925, which had collaborated tactically with Batista in the early 1940s when he was constitutional president, accepting two cabinet posts. By the time of the 26th of July Movement’s emergence the PSP was committed to a “peaceful road to socialism” line.

  • 4

    A Latin idiom: literally “until the Greek Kalends” --- meaning never, since the Romans had Kalends in their calendar and the Greeks did not.

  • 5

    Led the 26th of July Movement underground in Las Villas province; served in various ministerial posts after the revolution.

  • 6

    Took up the role following Frank País’s assassination in July 1957; killed in combat with Batista’s forces in mid-1958.

  • 7

    ORI: Organizaciones Revolucionarias Integradas, the transitional structure created in 1961 from the three revolutionary organisations as the precursor to a unified party.

  • 8

    Aníbal Escalante: pre-revolutionary leader of the PSP and one of its principal organisers. After the “sectarianism” affair of 1962 he was sent into exile in Czechoslovakia; he returned to Cuba but was again arrested in 1968 over the “microfraction” affair.

  • 9

    PURSC: Partido Unido de la Revolución Socialista de Cuba. In 1965 it would be renamed the Communist Party of Cuba (PCC), the name it retains today.

  • 10

    The Havana conference of January 1992 brought together former Soviet, US and Cuban participants in the missile crisis, including McNamara and several senior Cuban and Soviet officials. The Soviet disclosures concerning the number of warheads already in Cuba at the time of the crisis and the size of the Soviet troop contingent were among its most significant revelations.

  • 11

    Author of Ernesto Guevara, también conocido como el Che (1996), one of the principal Guevara biographies.

  • 12

    His contributions to the 1963—64 Cuban economic debate appeared in Nuestra Industria Económica alongside texts by Guevara, Charles Bettelheim and Alberto Mora.

  • 13

    The “Prague notebooks”: critical notes Guevara made during his clandestine stay in Prague in 1966 between his Congo and Bolivia missions, in which he developed an extended critique of the Soviet handbook of political economy. Published posthumously as Apuntes críticos a la Economía Política (2006).

  • 14

    Heberto Padilla: Cuban poet whose 1968 collection Fuera del juego (“Out of the Game”) was awarded a prize by the Cuban Writers’ Union despite the regime’s hostility to the work. He was arrested in 1971 and forced to deliver a public self-criticism --- the so-called “Padilla affair” --- which prompted a break with the Cuban revolution by many of its previously sympathetic international intellectuals.

  • 15

    Published 1967—1971 by a group of young philosophers based at the University of Havana; its closure marked the consolidation of the orthodox Soviet line in Cuban intellectual life.

  • 16

    In Spanish, quinquenio gris: characterised by the institutional persecution of writers and artists deemed insufficiently orthodox and by the imposition of socialist-realist canons.

Sunday, May 17, 2026

Socialism: A prospect, not a utopia


flying cars in Moscow

First published at /spichka

There will be no Gulag under the new socialism — an article by Boris Kagarlitsky

Preface by /spichka

Building socialism requires two things: taking people’s fears seriously and carrying out expropriations.

Boris Kagarlitsky wrote this article from a Russian penal colony, where he is currently serving his sentence. Here is the new socialism he is proposing (no utopias included).

Why should you read this letter?

You most likely talk to people who do not share your political views — or who perhaps have none at all. You explain that the global economy has reached a dead end, that declining birth rates across the world are the result of neoliberal policies. Your listeners nod in agreement. But sooner or later, the question arises:

“So what are you proposing?”

It is a reasonable yet disarming question. How would you answer?

Up until 2022, there was a sense of political timelessness. Marxists were preoccupied with the old “Stalin or Trotsky?” disputes. The outbreak of the “special military operation” brought many back to reality. It became clear that we do not have decades to spend arguing over long-dead leaders. It is time to learn how to communicate our ideas to people beyond Marxist communities.

Without a positive program, we can only agitate among other Marxists.

Of course, even before 2022, there were those writing about a socialist project — Boris Kagarlitsky or Andrey Kolganov, for example. However, these discussions failed to resonate among Marxists, as they never addressed the question that seemed to matter most: why “Stalin is better than Trotsky”.

Alexey Safronov is one of the authors whose work brings us closer to understanding socialism as a project. In 2025, he published a book titled The Great Soviet Economy1, where, in his concluding remarks, he posed the question: what comes next? Later that year, he released a video on the channel Prostye Chisla (“Prime numbers”) about democratic planning — “Direct Economic Democracy: The Technology Is Ready, Now It’s Up to People”.

It is time to arrive at a shared understanding of what kind of socialism we want to build — and how. A discussion is needed.

The time has come for Marxists to clarify their positions and bring the debate to a higher level.

To initiate this discussion among Marxists, we asked Boris Kagarlitsky to share his vision of socialism. He agreed and wrote:

I’ll send the text in batches of three or four pages so the mail and the censors don’t get overwhelmed — experience shows shorter messages get through faster, and it’s easier for me too (5 October 2025).

Boris Kagarlitsky sent us the article over the course of several months, a few pages at a time. We then continued discussing the text with him and refining the wording — ordinary editorial routine, though slow when conducted through the prison mail system. During this correspondence, he decided to add a postscript:

After reading your comments, I decided to add a postscript to the text, where I respond to the questions that you raised (15 December 2025).

We think this text deserves to be a starting point for a discussion that can engage different communities.

What is this letter about?

Boris Kagarlitsky wrote an extensive text on socialism as a future prospect. To be precise, it is not about how everybody will get a decent life under socialism, but about the first steps towards transforming society.

He did not intend to explain how socialism should be built, since that will depend on the starting conditions. If you’d like to read more about this, take a look at our article “The theory of the transitional period” and its follow-up. In those articles, we reflect on the experience of the USSR and other socialist countries to determine whether socialism was built there.

Kagarlitsky outlines possible starting points for transforming society. These are just the first steps, and we shouldn’t stop there.

To anticipate what follows, let us be clear: Kagarlitsky’s ideal is not simply a mixed economy with democratic institutions.

For the moment, we are not ready to articulate our position on every aspect discussed in the text. Our detailed view of socialism as a project will follow in a separate article later on.

But we stand firmly with Boris Kagarlitsky on one point: we need to develop a system of principles on the basis of which we want to transform society.

What we need are principles for transforming society, not stories about a beautiful life under socialism.

In the Manifesto, Marx and Engels outlined ten measures, “which appear economically insufficient and untenable, but which, in the course of the movement, outstrip themselves, necessitate further inroads upon the old social order, and are unavoidable as a means of entirely revolutionising the mode of production”.2

This is how we should think about it as well. In the article “Marx, Engels and the transitional program”, we have already explained the logic behind the proposals of the classical Marxists — why they formulated particular points, and how we can formulate our own positive program on that foundation.

Which brings us back to the central question: “So what are you proposing?”

We now turn to Boris Kagarlitsky, writing from Penal Colony No. 4 in Torzhok.


Socialism: a prospect, not a utopia

A vision of the future or a project? Or how I stopped building castles in the air

Politicians and publicists keep asking, with a kind of obsessive persistence, about the “vision of the future”, addressing allies, like-minded supporters, and opponents alike, and not only within the political left. I remember attending an official event in the early 2000s where yet another expensive report on Russia’s future was presented — outlining what the country was supposed to look like by 2020. Needless to say, the reality of 2020 bore no resemblance to that presentation.

The problem with such reports is rarely in what the authors made up. It lies in the ridiculously short time frame between creating a project and putting it into practice. Had they pushed their predictions out to 2050 — or better, 2100 — they could have avoided the embarrassment. By the time the target date arrived, no one would be left alive who remembered the report’s contents, or even that it had existed at all.

Utopian writers of the early modern period were more farsighted. They would place their ideal society on some distant, imaginary island — or even on the Moon.3 This is where the word “utopia”, coined by Thomas More, comes from4 — that is, a place that does not exist. And, I would add, never will.

Thinking about the future instead of utopias

Does this mean we should stop thinking about the future? Certainly not. The ability to act with the future in mind, planning years and sometimes decades ahead, is fundamental to the existence of human civilization. But the question is how we think — and what goals we set for ourselves.

“So what is your alternative?”

This reproach is constantly directed at the political left: “Your critique of modern capitalism is quite convincing, but what is your alternative?” It is a fair question. Yet the answer most of our comrades offer is methodologically flawed. An alternative should not be a description of a beautiful life in some non-capitalist paradise, but a set of concrete, interconnected solutions to the problems of the present.

An alternative is not a description of a beautiful life under socialism, but concrete proposals for addressing the problems of capitalism.

This is particularly important for two reasons.

First, the real future will emerge from practical transformations carried out here and now. And if, for example, we decide to introduce strict censorship in the name of freedom for all, the outcome will bear little resemblance to what we promise.

Second, if there is no clear and direct link between the “now” and the “later”, then dreams of a wonderful future do nothing to stop us from behaving as completely unprincipled opportunists in the present. After all, this does not contradict our convictions: one set of principles for the dream, another for sinful reality.

This is precisely why Marx and Engels were right in their critique of utopian thinking.5

What we need is not a vision of the future, but a set of principles on which to base solutions to current problems.

We must therefore begin with a critique of the existing socio-economic order, identifying its main contradictions and problems — by overcoming them, we will in fact create a new society. First of all, it is important to understand why the solutions currently offered within capitalism either do not work or fail to work as expected.

What we are witnessing today is not just a series of crises, but a crisis of the entire economic system.

What we are facing is not just a series of crises, but above all a set of interconnected crises that together take on a systemic character. The numerous moderate reform initiatives intended to address these growing problems have only made the situation more complex and confused.

No one denies the ecological crisis, the financial turmoil, the widening social disparities often reduced to the issue of inequality, or the alarming rise in conflicts. But it is crucial to recognize that all these phenomena are interconnected, and that any solution can only be found through a comprehensive transformation of the economy and society.6

Two initial conclusions follow from this:

  • Structural changes affecting relations of power and ownership are necessary;
  • The development of democratic planning institutions is essential.

Institutions of democratic planning will make it possible to transform and shape the economic structure in a coordinated and purposeful way, not only in the interests of the majority but for the development of humanity.

Democratic planning will make it possible to organize the economy in the interests of humanity’s development.

This last point is, unfortunately, crucial, since short-term interests often run counter to long-term prospects. This is evident not only in ecological crises but also in market cycles, where rapid stock price growth sets the stage for inevitable economic collapse. Here, however, we encounter the central problem — one that can only be resolved in practice: how to move beyond the narrowly understood immediate interests of the masses without sacrificing their democratic freedoms or calling into question their right to oppose even fundamentally correct and objectively overdue policies. In a sense, this is the main contradiction of socialism.

Economic democracy

Ota Šik, in his classic work Plan and Market under Socialism7 pointed out that abolishing private property does not eliminate differences in interests between individuals and social groups. The capitalist market allows these differences to be regulated, but not in accordance with any social optimum; instead, outcomes are determined by the balance of forces — power, income, and property. This is precisely why modern society, torn apart by sharp contradictions, not only social and class ones, is in urgent need of a different mechanism. Even worse, the classical market mechanism no longer functions. This is not, as libertarians would claim, the result of irresponsible leftists or greedy corporate elites interfering with its “normal” functioning, but of the concentration of capital and the rising cost of research, which have made free and equal competition a utopia.

Free competition no longer exists. A new mechanism is needed to reconcile the interests of different groups in society.

The Singaporean economist Martin Khor8 demonstrated that the ideal model of competition described by Adam Smith works only when hundreds of independent producers operate within a single market, responding solely to prices determined by effective demand. As the number of producers declines to a few dozen, the mechanism begins to fail. If there are fewer than ten, they tend to orient themselves toward one another rather than the consumer, and, even without direct coordination, effectively form a cartel-like arrangement. This is sometimes referred to as “Khor’s theorem” or the “oligopolistic market rule”.

Libertarian critics of monopolies will, of course, call for breaking up large corporations as a solution to the problem. But this would mean reversing the process of capital and technological concentration that underpins economic progress, as well as reducing resources for research and development. The only way to compensate for this would be to increase the role of the state in research and investment, which is equally unacceptable to libertarians and liberals.

There is only one way out of the current situation — economic democracy based on the socialization of the largest corporations.

The real response to such challenges lies in creating a mechanism of economic democracy based on the socialization of the largest corporations, informational transparency, and the integration of the efforts of different economic actors. This does not imply the abolition of the market, but it does require, as John Keynes pointed out, the socialization of investment under the control of democratic representative bodies accountable to society.

This task can only be resolved in practice: conflicts and disagreements are inevitable, which is precisely why democracy is essential as a mechanism for the dynamic resolution of contradictions. Will this democracy retain the features of parliamentarism? Most likely, only partially. Traditional procedures will have to be supplemented by new forms of stakeholder participation in decision-making. One example is the involvement of city residents in urban planning through participatory budgeting in Porto Alegre, Brazil.9

Examples of direct economic democracy already exist. One of them is Porto Alegre in Brazil.

One way or another, there will be a need to develop mechanisms of multi-level coordination without abolishing existing political institutions — parties, trade unions, and civic organizations. Another point is that, over time, bodies of sectoral or local self-government, integrated into systems of economic, social, and environmental coordination, may come to play a more important role than parliament.

Will such a system turn out to be too complex? Only practice will tell, but there are already reasons to assume that it will be no more complex than the Soviet system of administrative planning or the market-corporate-bureaucratic coordination typical of today’s advanced capitalist economies.

The scope of property socialization may vary considerably depending on conditions.

Given differences in capital concentration, global integration, democratic traditions, and, not least, the balance of political and class forces across societies, the scale, forms, and depth of property socialization will vary considerably depending on local conditions. For this reason, the following discussion will focus on what can be done in the Russian context. And yet, some general trends can be identified globally.

General principles:

  • Socialize research, production, as well as online platforms;
  • Develop not only the state sector, but also forms of cooperation with private initiative;
  • Ensure the collective use of the benefits of socialized property.

First, this concerns the socialization of research and production currently controlled by large corporations, as well as the socialization of the platforms through which a significant share of economic activity is carried out — as convincingly argued by Nick Srnicek10 and Yanis Varoufakis.11 The forms of socialization may also vary: they may include buyouts, asset redistribution, bankruptcy procedures, and expropriation — depending on the political, economic, and social context.

Second, this does not imply the total nationalization of all production and exchange, as in the Soviet Union.12 Even the Soviet Union’s allies in the Eastern Bloc allowed a certain degree of freedom for private entrepreneurship, which developed with some success, helping to compensate for the bottlenecks of bureaucratic planning.13 The economy will be “mixed”, but what exactly is combined, and in what proportions, is a matter of practical politics.

The economy will be “mixed”, but the composition of that “mix” is a matter of practical politics.

Third, the development of socialized production under current conditions is inseparable from collective consumption. Energy networks integrating large numbers of users, public transport, and accessible platforms for obtaining goods and information — all of this already exists today. These practices — now largely dominant thanks to the internet — are exactly what we must rely on as we integrate and develop collective infrastructure, in which these systems are closely and efficiently interconnected. The internet is perfectly compatible with private business and individual consumption, but is already at odds with the corporate market.

Having outlined some general principles, we can now propose a number of measures to transform the Russian economy and society, which are clearly in need of change.

Public sector

Which companies should be socialized?

When Marx spoke of the contradiction between the social character of production and private appropriation, he drew the logical conclusion that production must develop under society’s direct control. Clearly, this contradiction cannot be resolved without challenging private property. However, it is already clear that building a public sector capable of addressing strategic development tasks does not require indiscriminate nationalization. It is reasonable to assume that the more a given sector, industry, or company serves common needs at the national and global level, the greater the need for its socialization.

The fundamental contradiction of capitalism cannot be resolved without challenging the system of private property.

In the Russian context, the following sectors stand out: transport infrastructure, defense enterprises, strategic civilian machine-building (primarily transport), the mining industry, energy, major banks, metallurgy, and forestry and water management.

An attentive reader will immediately notice that these are exactly the sectors in which Russia’s so-called state corporations operate. But that is precisely the point: in reality, these companies are not state-owned even in the bourgeois sense of the term. They are private joint-stock corporations with substantial state participation.

Russian state corporations are essentially ordinary joint-stock companies with state participation.

Meanwhile, Marx rightly emphasized that property is a social relation. The state’s acquisition of shares does nothing to change property relations or relations of production. However, it does create a precedent — not always a positive one — and opens up opportunities for the redistribution of resources, typically in favor of a privileged group within oligarchic business structures.

In modern society, resources are redistributed mainly by non-market means.

The redistribution of resources, inevitable in a developed modern economy, has long been carried out primarily through non-market mechanisms, yet it remains a highly complex, costly, and corruption-prone process. This is hardly surprising in a system dominated by private property and private interest. The widely promoted principles of public-private partnership, popularized in the late 20th century, are essentially mechanisms for legitimizing corruption — regardless of whether it occurs in Russia, the United States, India, or Western Europe.

If a company cannot operate without state support, it should be transferred to the public sector.

The public and private sectors should interact only through the market. Here, one might even shake hands with libertarians: the market it is. But if a company cannot operate without state support, or cannot fulfill a socially beneficial function without it, then it should be transferred to the public sector.

In practice, public interest, along with environmental, social, and other objective requirements, is indeed realized, but largely through penalties imposed on businesses. The public sector, however, should be oriented not towards profit maximization but towards addressing social problems. This does not mean it should operate at a loss, but profit-seeking and ensuring financial sustainability are by no means the same. Profit, therefore, cannot and should not be the primary, let alone the only, measure of success for public enterprises.

It is clear that in the digital era, there is a need to create open and transparent online platforms, and that decentralizing economic decision-making will enable the development of diverse forms and levels of public-sector activity. For instance, housing and utilities will most likely fall under the control of municipal authorities and local self-government.

Europe provides examples of state-owned companies that were not only profit-driven but also addressed social problems.

The Western European experience of recent decades is worth recalling here. In Austria, regional authorities set up construction companies in several federal states, whose operations — within the framework of market competition — led to falling housing prices. Another example is the well-known Finnish company Sitra, established in the 1990s. It functioned as a state-backed venture capital fund, tasked not only with generating profits but also with promoting job creation in the regions, raising the economy’s technological level, ensuring employment for women, and more. Sitra’s remarkable success in the late 20th century propelled Finland to the forefront of technological development in Europe.

Governance in the public sector

How will governance in the public sector differ from classical forms of capitalist management? One starting point is the existing experience within the modern economy of so-called “teal organizations”, characterized by minimal hierarchy and active employee participation in decision-making. Yet within the private sector, such organizations sooner or later encounter a conflict between the interests of shareholder-owners and workers. In the public sector, this contradiction would be removed. This does not mean that new contradictions will not emerge; rather, democratic procedures must be created to resolve them.

Sectoral congresses are one form of democratic governance.

At a higher level, one form of democratic governance could be sectoral congresses, where professionals collectively discuss existing problems and propose organizational and staffing solutions for the state to consider. Such congresses of teachers, agronomists, and engineers began to emerge in Russia after the February Revolution of 1917, but the practice did not develop any further: civil war is hardly a time for professional congresses. Today, it would be entirely feasible to return to this model at a new level.

Clearly, enterprises and sectors differ in their degree of readiness for self-management. Moreover, for obvious reasons, not all issues can be resolved at this level. Centralized planning and management bodies, operating under the control of representative, democratically elected authorities, must ensure the setting of development priorities, which are already discernible in broad outline today.

Priorities

For decades, international forums have issued eloquent documents on the need to protect the planet from ecological catastrophe, accompanied by speeches about the value of human life, the importance of culture and education, and the creation of more humane and comfortable living conditions. Yet, unfortunately, the reality around us clearly contradicts all this.

Environmental initiatives are alien to the market economy, as they do not lead to profit maximization.

The problem is that various environmental and humanistic demands are, so to speak, bolted onto the market-corporate economic system, appearing as external and alien factors. They are expected to operate from the outside — through incentives or penalties — without affecting the overall logic to which private companies are objectively subject: the logic of profit maximization and capital accumulation.

At the same time, what matters fundamentally is the initial purpose — what an organization is created for and according to what criteria it is structured. This is why, incidentally, universities, armies, and scientific academies, even within capitalism and with considerable resources at their disposal, have not become fully bourgeois institutions, although they have been partially bourgeoisified.

Democratic planning must develop its own priorities and create the structures needed to implement them.

Democratic planning must not only develop its own priorities, but also create the corresponding structures to support them. In Russia, the adoption of the new Forest Code in the 2000s had catastrophic consequences, turning forestry into an ordinary commercial sector — much like the commercialization and privatization of railways in Russia and the UK led to similarly damaging results. In the face of the global ecological crisis, reforestation and afforestation have become a central task. It is worth recalling the significant work carried out in this area during the early Soviet period.14

Development priorities must be set based on social, environmental, and cultural needs.

Forestry, transport, energy, science, and education — all these sectors can become powerful drivers of economic growth, but their primary objectives must be set on the basis of social, environmental, and cultural needs. Even technologies themselves can develop in different directions depending on what developers prioritize. The story of airships is a classic example. As late as the 1970s, they were proposed as an ideal solution for cargo transport in Siberia and the Far East, but they did not fit the agenda of the machine-building sector and failed to attract military interest, despite the military being the most generous client. Notably, despite the clear potential of such projects, airship development in both the United States and Britain met the same fate.

The pursuit of state-defined, non-economic goals creates opportunities for economic growth.

By contrast, when non-economic goals were at the center of the state agenda and became institutionalized, they gradually shaped the economy and created new opportunities for its growth. Mass tourism, for example, emerged as an industry from the widespread introduction of paid holidays for workers — a policy that businesses fiercely resisted at the time.

By shaping new priorities, we inevitably shape a new economy, with structures and rules different from those of today.

New priorities — a new economy.

The humanization of life is an equally important issue around which socio-economic reconstruction can be organized. A glance at modern cities is enough to see how improvements in everyday comfort for the middle class coexist with the rising levels of psychological distress and alienation. The growing concentration of population and resources in megacities and urban agglomerations leads to the decline of small and medium-sized towns and to a crisis of social infrastructure in rural areas. It goes without saying that no one is advocating a return to the policies of Pol Pot, who, under the influence of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, sought to abolish the capital city by expelling its population. Yet the over-urbanization of our time leads, in the long run, to a future that is no less dystopian.

The only possible response to this challenge is a policy of re-urbanization aimed at developing small and medium-sized towns, as well as agro-towns directly integrated into the rural environment and economy. This will require substantial investment in cultural, healthcare, transport, educational, and even informational infrastructure. In the long run, however, it will generate not only new sources of economic growth, but a new quality of growth — one that is far more balanced and, crucially, is not accompanied by destructive effects on people’s inner well-being.

Only society itself can determine development priorities.

The formation of new development priorities must be a task for society as a whole, engaging people not only in strategic discussions but also in implementing practical projects. There are no miracle solutions that can or should be imposed from above. The responsibility of the left lies in developing its proposals, advancing initiatives, and shaping its agenda in such a way that they gain traction among the broader public — turning them from party-political or ideological positions into something commonly shared. This is precisely what the difficult work of hegemony involves.

No matter how many compelling ideas we put forward or how many appealing visions of the future we create, the real prospects for development will depend on the balance of forces and on our ability to unite people and social groups that still remain quite skeptical of our ideas.

To become the majority, we must first learn to be recognized as one of their own.

What matters most here is not utopias or promises of happiness in some distant future, but political solutions that work here and now.

A prospect, not a utopia

I hope that readers of this article will not be left with the impression that the limit of my ambitions is a mixed economy with a developed public sector and strong democratic institutions — even though, in the current circumstances, that alone would be a significant step forward. I have deliberately confined myself to a brief outline of changes that are sufficiently radical for the present moment, yet at the same time realistically achievable and entirely concrete.

The paradox is that even the implementation of such a program, which some may regard as limited, will encounter a whole range of issues and difficulties, obstacles and unforeseen developments. In addressing them, we will not only move closer to realizing our project but also transform it and, most likely, radicalize it.

During its implementation, the left project will change and become more radical.

The aim of transformation is not to remake everything at once in accordance with a pre-formulated plan and a rigid ideology. Rather, the first wave of changes should initiate a new logic of development — one that transforms the priorities, needs, and opportunities of society and thereby shapes subsequent transformations, until, as Marx put it, social evolutions cease to be political revolutions. This logic inevitably leads us beyond market relations and commodity exchange, the narrow limits of which are already being exceeded by new technologies that allow, for instance, near-infinite replication. In such cases, by sharing knowledge, software, images, or technologies, we do not lose them as we once would have lost a material object through sale. The knowledge economy, by definition, ceases to be a commodity economy.

The first wave of changes must initiate a new logic of development.

This, however, does not imply the possibility of a return to Soviet-type administrative-bureaucratic planning. Even if someone wished to bring such a system back, nothing worthwhile would come of it, simply because it was the transition to a new technological era that predetermined the inevitable demise of the Soviet centralized system to a far greater extent than any “betrayals” or economic inefficiencies — as dogmatic communists and dogmatic liberal anti-communists respectively tend to claim. A knowledge economy requires unrestricted exploration, flexible thinking, and people who are not constrained by bureaucratic and ideological restrictions.

The Soviet economy cannot be restored, no matter how much some might wish it.

Both the negative and the positive aspects of the Soviet experience must, however, be taken into account on the path to the future, through a critical analysis of its achievements — sometimes associated with an unprecedentedly effective concentration of resources in priority areas — and its failures, which produced an equally remarkable waste and misallocation of resources where such priorities were absent.

Even today, a key source of economic inspiration for us lies in the ideas and projects of the communist reformers of the 1960s — Ota Šik15, Włodzimierz Brus16, or Rezső Nyers17 — not to mention their predecessors, Oskar Lange18 and Michał Kalecki.19

At the same time, we continue to draw new insights from examining the failures of the planned economy in the Soviet Union — for example, when reading Alexey Safronov’s important recent book The Great Soviet Economy.20 But the main historical lesson cannot be reduced to an understanding of the shortcomings of bureaucratic centralization. A technocratic utopia that assumes that “computers will calculate everything” would be no less of a dead end.

A technocratic utopia is also a dead end. Machines will not be able to formulate our interests for us.

Even the most intelligent machines will not be able to formulate our interests for us, which, as Ota Šik already showed,21 will in any case remain contradictory — and these contradictions often arise not only between people, but within one and the same individual. The constant, multi-level reconciliation of interests, the search for compromises based on available resources and general priorities — this is the task of democratic planning: the work of many people, with their needs, desires, tastes, and even fears, which must also be taken into account.

Machines make our labor easier and can even turn it into a source of pleasure, but they will free us neither from responsibility nor from the need for activity that transforms and improves the world around us. A future in which, as the old Soviet song has it, “the robots do the work, and man is happy”, would truly mark the end not only of history but of society itself. The transformations for which we struggle are not aimed at creating a republic of idlers, but at building a system that offers the greatest possible scope for the collective and individual self-realization of human beings through creative, free activity. As Marx and Engels wrote in The Communist Manifesto, “the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all”.22

Some may call this a utopia. We call it a prospect.
  • 1

    Safronov, A. V. (2025). The Great Soviet Economy, 1917–1991. Moscow: Individuum.

  • 2

    Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1888). Manifesto of the Communist Party (S. Moore, Trans.; rev. by F. Engels), p. 41.

    Engels made a similar point in The Principles of Communism:

    “It is impossible, of course, to carry out all these measures at once. But one will always bring others in its wake. Once the first radical attack on private property has been launched, the proletariat will find itself forced to go ever further, to concentrate increasingly in the hands of the state all capital, all agriculture, all transport, all trade. All the foregoing measures are directed to this end”, Engels, F. (1952). Principles of Communism (P. M. Sweezy, Trans.). New York: Monthly Review Press, p. 15.

  • 3

    /spichka: For example, this was the case with Thomas More and Cyrano de Bergerac.

    In 1516, Thomas More published Utopia, whose full title is A Little Book, Truly Golden, No Less Beneficial than Entertaining, on the Best State of a Commonwealth and on the New Island of Utopia.

    In 1657, the French writer Cyrano de Bergerac published the utopian novel The Other World: Comical History of the States and Empires of the Moon, in which he described the customs of the Moon’s inhabitants as a way of criticizing society on Earth.

  • 4

    /spichka: Thomas More was the first to use the word “utopia”. In Greek, it means either “no place” or “righteous place”. This ambiguity is built into the word itself: the ideal place it describes does not exist, but still sets a standard. Due to the popularity of More’s book, the word entered many languages.

  • 5

    /spichka: In the article “Keep the course towards Pyongyang”, we discussed the question “What is the task of socialism?” There, we criticized the utopian approach to defining socialism and its goals.

    Socialism is essential not because it represents a just society, nor because it promises cheap ice cream and cotton candy at kiosks, but because the contradictions of capitalism reach their limits and society can no longer develop within the old economic system. This is what modern utopians fail to understand.

  • 6

    /spichka: In the article “Marx, Engels and the transitional program”, we showed how the classical authors viewed a program of social transformation. As you may recall (you do remember, don’t you?), the Manifesto contains just ten points, none of which appear radical on its own, but taken together they lead to a socialist transformation of society.

  • 7

    /spichka: Ota Šik (1919–2004) was a Czechoslovak economist and politician.

    After the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia in 1939, he joined the resistance and, in 1940, the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (KSČ). In 1941, he was arrested by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp, where he was imprisoned alongside the future KSČ leader Antonín Novotný.

    From 1961, he served as director of the Institute of Economics of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences and, from 1962, as a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. In 1968, he became deputy prime minister, after which his political career ended.

    His book Plan and Market under Socialism was published in Czechoslovakia in 1968, and he became one of the key economic thinkers of the Prague Spring.

    When Warsaw Pact troops entered Prague in 1968, Šik was on holiday in Yugoslavia. Fearing arrest, he emigrated to Switzerland, where he lived for the rest of his life, writing and teaching at the university.

    Šik advocated a “third way”. He even published a book with that title: The Third Way: Marxist-Leninist Theory and Modern Industrial Society (1972). The first two paths were capitalism and Soviet socialism; the third was democratic market socialism.

  • 8

    /spichka: Martin Khor (1951–2020) was a Malaysian economist and journalist. He wrote extensively on globalization and the confrontation between the Global South and the Global North, showing how Europe and the United States impose dependency on developing countries.

    In 2020, Rabkor published an obituary of Martin Khor, providing a detailed account of his work:

    “Martin Khor: The making of a global activist” // Rabkor. — 17.04.2020. — URL:https://rabkor.ru/columns/left/2020/04/17/martin_kho_becoming_a_global_activist/

  • 9

    /spichka: Porto Alegre is a city in Brazil and the capital of one of its states.

    In 1989, the city launched an experiment with participatory budgeting — also known as civic or citizen budgeting — a form of direct democracy in which residents are involved in shaping the budget.

    In Porto Alegre, councils composed of local residents were established — and continue to be formed to this day. Initiative groups, drawn from their members, propose projects to improve the city, and the councils decide on them.

    The experiment was a success: Porto Alegre is now considered one of the best cities in South America in terms of municipal service provision.

  • 10

    /spichka: Nick Srnicek is a Canadian political scientist and author of Platform Capitalism (2016), a study of the evolution of capitalism since the 1970s, focusing on the growing role of digital platforms in the economy.

  • 11

    /spichka: Yanis Varoufakis is a Greek left-wing economist who studies the transformations of capitalism in the neoliberal era and the Great Recession that began in 2008. His most recent book, Technofeudalism, is devoted to these issues. For Boris Kagarlitsky’s review, see Spichka: “Technofeudalism: a prisoner’s review”. 

  • 12

    /spichka: Initially, the Bolsheviks had no intention of nationalizing all enterprises, as is evident from Lenin’s April Theses, published on 7 April 1917.

    The decisions made in the first year after the October Revolution were not preplanned; the Bolsheviks were reacting to emerging threats. This was also the case with the decree “On the Nationalization of Large-Scale Industry and Railway Transportation Enterprises” of 28 June 1918. Shortly before its adoption, an agreement was reached with Germany that the Soviet side would not have to pay compensation for enterprises nationalized before 1 July. Once this was secured, the decree was drafted and published overnight, marking the first wave of mass nationalization.

    For more details, see Alexey Safronov’s video “Yury Larin in the First Months after October” or his lecture “War Communism and the NEP”. Safronov also discusses this in The Great Soviet Economy.

  • 13

    /spichka: Artels — production cooperatives — operated in the USSR from the early years of Soviet authority until 1956. Their activity was not directly planned; only the supply of raw materials was included in the plan. In the Stalinist economy, artels ensured diversity in the range of goods, compensating for the difficulties of planning a wide variety of products.

    By 1955, there were 12,667 artels operating in the USSR, employing 1.8 million people. Industrial cooperatives included 2 research institutes, 22 experimental laboratories, and 100 design bureaus. Artels produced 33,444 different types of goods.

    Artels accounted for 5.9% of gross industrial output, but produced 40% of furniture, 70% of metal household goods, and almost all toys.

    In 1956, the Central Committee of the CPSU and the Council of Ministers of the USSR issued the decree “On the Reorganization of Production Cooperation”, under which artels were transformed into state enterprises.

    For more detail, see Alexey Safronov’s The Great Soviet Economy or his lecture “The Beginning of the Khrushchev’s Decade, Part 2”.

  • 14

    /spichka: In 1924, the USSR developed its first plan for forestry development, although large-scale reforestation only began four years later. Between 1928 and 1937, 100,000–120,000 hectares of forest were planted annually.

  • 15

    /spichka: Ota Šik (1919–2004) was a Czechoslovak economist and politician.

    After the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovakia in 1939, he joined the resistance and, in 1940, the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (KSČ). In 1941, he was arrested by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp, where he was imprisoned alongside the future KSČ leader Antonín Novotný.

    From 1961, he served as director of the Institute of Economics of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences and, from 1962, as a member of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. In 1968, he became deputy prime minister, after which his political career ended.

    His book Plan and Market under Socialism was published in Czechoslovakia in 1968, and he became one of the key economic thinkers of the Prague Spring.

    When Warsaw Pact troops entered Prague in 1968, Šik was on holiday in Yugoslavia. Fearing arrest, he emigrated to Switzerland, where he lived for the rest of his life, writing and teaching at the university.

    Šik advocated a “third way”. He even published a book with that title: The Third Way: Marxist-Leninist Theory and Modern Industrial Society (1972). The first two paths were capitalism and Soviet socialism; the third was democratic market socialism.

  • 16

    /spichka: Włodzimierz Brus (1921–2007) was a Polish economist and party activist. In 1961, he published The General Problems of the Functioning of the Socialist Economy, arguing that both democracy and the market were necessary on the path to socialism.

    In 1968, Brus was expelled from the Polish United Workers’ Party. In 1972, he emigrated to the United Kingdom, where he continued to write on Marxism and defend his views.

    Brus sought to resolve the contradiction whereby bureaucracy is necessary in the transition to socialism, yet it appropriates control over society. How, then, can bureaucracy be overcome?

  • 17

    /spichka: Rezső Nyers (1923–2018) was a Hungarian economist and a member of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party.

    From 1960 to 1962, he served as minister of finance; from 1962, he was a candidate member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party and chairman of the party’s economic commission. From 1966, he was a full member of the Politburo. In 1968, Hungary launched the reforms initiated by Nyers: directive planning was scaled back, and enterprises were granted greater autonomy. In 1972, the reforms were curtailed, and by 1975, Nyers was removed from the Politburo.

  • 18

    /spichka: Oskar Lange (1904–1965) was a Polish economist, a deputy in the Sejm of the Polish People’s Republic from 1952, and from the same year a member of the Polish Academy of Sciences. From 1964, he was one of the four acting chairmen of the State Council of the Polish People’s Republic — that is, one of the acting heads of state.

    Lange held that Soviet directive planning was flawed and that nationalized property had to be combined with the market in order to build socialism.

    Some of his works include: The Theory of Reproduction and Accumulation (1963), Optimal Decisions (1967), andIntroduction to Economic Cybernetics (1968).

  • 19

    /spichka: Michał Kalecki (1899–1970) was a Polish left-wing economist.

    In 1935, Kalecki left Poland to work in Britain and later in the United States. In 1955, he returned to the Polish People’s Republic, where he became an economic adviser to the Council of Ministers and worked in the State Planning Commission. From 1966, he was a member of the Polish Academy of Sciences.

    Kalecki developed Marxist political economy. In 1970, his book Introduction to the Theory of Growth in a Socialist Economy was published in the Soviet Union.

  • 20

    Safronov, A. V. (2025). The Great Soviet Economy, 1917–1991. Moscow: Individuum.

  • 21

    For more detail, see: Šik, O. (1967). Plan and Market under Socialism. Prague: Academia.

  • 22

    Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1888). Manifesto of the Communist Party (S. Moore, Trans.; rev. by F. Engels), p. 42.