Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [446]
Yet now, as he listened to Popov, it soon became clear to Nicolai that his former friend knew far more about the world than he did. Popov gave him an account of the radical movements in Western Europe, from the workers’ trades unions to the revolutionary political parties. How sophisticated they sounded, compared to anything in Russia. He gave an amusing account of some of the exiled revolutionaries abroad. But above all, as the cosmopolitan Popov explained the European situation, there was something else that struck Nicolai even more forcibly. It was his certainty.
For whereas, when he was young, Nicolai remembered men speaking of revolution and a new world order as articles of faith, he noticed that Popov now spoke in a very different manner, as if everything that was passing were part of some concrete, historical process that he well understood. When he expressed this thought, Popov smiled.
‘Of course. Have you not read Karl Marx?’
Nicolai had heard of Marx, and tried to remember what he knew. The fellow was a German Jew who had lived a long time in England and died a few years ago; an economist and a revolutionary. And there had been a disciple who was still active: Engels. But the works of these formidable men were only just beginning to appear in Russia and Nicolai had to confess he had read nothing.
The theories of Marx, Popov explained, derived from the great German philosopher, Hegel, propounded at the start of the century. ‘And no doubt you remember the great world system of Hegel from your student days, don’t you?’ Popov chided.
‘I think so.’ Nicolai searched his mind. Yes, he did remember. ‘It was called the Dialectic,’ he said.
‘Exactly. The Dialectic. That is the key to everything.’
Nicolai remembered it all now – Hegel’s beautiful, cosmic system which showed that the world was progressing towards an ultimate state of perfection: the Absolute. And the process for getting there? It was all done in stages – a seemingly endless clash of ideas, but each clash marking a step forward. Thus a Thesis – one seeming truth – met its opposite or Antithesis. And from the two emerged a new idea: Synthesis – better than the idea before, but still imperfect. And so the Synthesis would now become Thesis, and the whole business start again. Normally, Nicolai recalled, each Thesis collapsed because it had some flaw, some inner contradiction. Thus, for instance, men had thought the earth was flat – until the evidence contradicted what at first had seemed obvious. Then they supposed the earth was the centre of the universe with the sun circling round it – until this too was shown to be false. He liked the Dialectic: it suggested progress. It was compelling.
‘And the greatest master of the Dialectic was Karl Marx,’ Popov stated. ‘For by it he has explained the whole history of mankind – and its future too,’ he added.
Marxism: Nicolai listened, fascinated, as Popov outlined the system. ‘Only matter exists,’ he began. ‘That is the great truth that underlies everything. Hence the name we give Marx’s system: Dialectical Materialism.
‘For it’s the material means of production that determines everything,’ he expounded. ‘How we feed ourselves, clothe ourselves, how we extract minerals from the earth and manufacture. Man’s whole consciousness, his society, his laws, all derive from this economic structure. And in every society to date there are two classes fundamentally: the exploiters and the exploited. Those who own the means of production and those who sell their labour.’
‘And the Dialectic?’
‘Why, the class struggle – that’s the Dialectic. Think of it. In feudal Europe, who held the land? The nobles. And the exploited