# The Finnish Revolution/Chapter 3

III.
A FIRST COMMUNIST PROGRAMME IN THE REVOLUTIONARY STRUGGLE.
When at the end of January the Finnish bourgeoisie gave the word of command to its butchers to begin the attack, Social Democracy was indignant because of democracy. "The bourgeoisie is violating and destroying democracy—"so ran the cry from the Social-Democrat side—"To arms! Democracy is in danger." And so indeed it was. The bourgeois wished once and for all to emerge from their torpor, to throw off their democratic chains, which were for them no obstacle if not a danger. They desired to set up a naked class tyranny, an unchecked pillaging authority, a "strong police," a butchers' republic, or, as we shall see, a butchers' monarchy.
That is what the bourgeoisie wanted. Social-Democracy replied by revolution. But what was its watchword? The power of the workers? No, it was democracy, a democracy which should not he violated.
Our position from a Socialist standpoint was not clear, and viewed historically was Utopian. Such a democracy could at best be created only on paper. Such a thing had never existed in a society formed of classes, and can never develop there. In Democracy a robber class has always stolen power from the people.
If in future the capitalist system were to continue to exist on the economic field, such a Democracy would be an impossibility; a Democracy in which the proletariat would have become the ruling class in the Statea, and by means of the State would have striven to reach the primitive sources of the exploiting power of capitalism. If, on the other hand, the economic system of capitalism were already ripe for its fall, then for this work democracy was both useless and impossible. In the first case the form of the Democratic State, if it had been realised on paper, would have become a screen masking the absolute power of the bourgeois.class, and up to a certain point it would have proved an inconvenience and an obstacle. In the second case it would have proved a mask and an obstacle to the absolute power of the working class. In any event a true democracy could not spring from it. In a class ​society only two kinds of relations between classes can exist. The one a state of oppression, maintained by violence (arms, laws, tribunals, etc.), in which the struggle for the liberation of the oppressed classes is confined ta the use of relatively pacific means (whether they be underground er open, anarchic, parliamentary or professional); whilst the other is a state of open struggle between the classes, the Revolution, in which a violent conflict decides which of the two classes will in future be the oppressor and which the oppressed.
When the Finnish bourgeoisie provoked the workers to an open struggle for class supremacy, the workers' party ought to have chosen some clear and definite position; one of these two: either to take up the challenge and engage in a revolutionary struggle for working-class power, or to submit with a struggle to the bourgeoisie, recognising its own weakness and betraying the cause of its class. The Finnish working class party did not decide for one or for the other course. It, did its duty by going into battle, it drew up its forces for the struggle, but it was for a defensive struggle, not for a definite revolutionary fight. It is true that we talked much of revolution, and we actually took part. in a struggle which was by nature revolutionary, but it was with closed eyes that we did so, without being conscious of the meaning of this social revolution. We talked at the same time of democracy and a democratic State, which meant, if anything, that revolution was perforce the very thing to be avoided. Thus the standard of revolution was in reality raised—so that revolution might be avoided.
In our situation that was an enormous mistake. Not that we have understood this, we ought also to recognise it openly, even if we did not do so at the opportune moment. We did not grasp the fact that when the revolution broke out, the workers threw democracy violently aside, blotted it out as a hindrance and a point of no value in their programme. If the workers of Finland had not accepted the challenge thrown down by the bourgeoisie, but had meekly allowed themselves to be beaten, imprisoned and slaughtered, certainly a protecting democratic programme would have been in its place. But on that day in January when the worker raised his hand against his mortal enemy, that hand tore away the democratic rags and tatters which separated them. After that day, to keep up the pretence of ​a democratic programme was equivalent to a retreat; as was also the case with a democracy "favourable to the workers," like that included in the plan for a constitution drawn up by the People's Commissariat.
The fact that the representatives of a class in revolution, or engaged in any other phase of the class struggle, are not conscious of the struggle's true aim and import does not necessarily mean that one must give up the struggle or that all is bound to end in shipwreck. It ought not to be interpreted as a struggle against one's own class; or as conscious or unconscious deception. The struggle in itself is a historic fact, it is the principal fact which decided and conduces to a true result, and each man who, according to the measure of his strength and ability takes part in the revolutionary struggle of the aroused class, upholds that class in so doing, even if on his lips and his thoughts he nourishes the most unhistoric, unscientific facts one could wish for. The Finnish Social Democracy, by carrying out its duty of putting up a fight, did not betray its class, and by its struggle upheld the programme of the revolution, even though inscribed on its banners were the watchwords of the old democracy.
It was not the first time in the history of the world that such a thing had taken place as the foremost champions of a struggling class adopting a watchword which was not consonant with the historical idea of their struggle. Revolutionary watchwords have generally arisen fortuitously, and have been made up of high-sounding, superficial and not very far-seeing political phrases, to which are joined as by chance the strange expressions of an inverted symbolism. For example, the Hussite movement in Bohemia was at bottom a struggle for the most real class advantages, although in the first place the point at issue was a theological dispute concerning the Host, communion, and the drinking of wine. During the Finnish revolution the democratic programme was for the S.-D.'s of Finland their communion wine. It did not hinder Social-Democracy from taking part in the revolutionary struggle, but as a programme it was no longer of service in the struggle itself. If an unskilled navigator is steering a wrong course which will lead him to destruction or carry him away from his destination, and a violent storm throws him back in to the right course without his knowing ​it, the result is evidently due not to the sailor, but to the storm. He may have done his duty during the voyage with zeal and courage, but he did not know how to use his maps and his compass, given to him expressly that he might steer in the right direction.
The modern S.-D. Party, whose activity should be based on a Marxian and consequently scientific policy, has less than any other, any reason or point of honour for carrying this symbolism to the barricade. For, worst of all, it was for us a weakness and a hindrance in the struggle. The knowledge that the fight is for a definite object is sufficient in it self to raise the morale and endurance of the fighters, but the lack of a clear aim induces uncertainty, hesitation and weakness. Such was the case with the February revolution in Finland. We did not keep order with enough energy. For example, at Helsingfors we gave too free a rein to the bourgeoisie, which allowed them to carry on a campaign of plotting-against us. Domiciliary visits and imprisonment of offenders were not carried out with sufficient energy. Counter-revolutionaries, who had been proved guilty, were punished with too much leniency. We did not put these gentlemen of leisure early enough under the obligation of working, and we should certainly have acted with more insight if we had put forward the dictatorship of the proletariat as the evident aim of the revolution. From the very moment that this was not done, our action held to a middle, dangerous way, which fact, was in itself sufficient to make the bourgeoisie bolder in their plots, and at the same time to encourage certain anarchic elements which had found their way into the Red Guards to commit "motu propue" murders, robberies, and other misdeeds—a lack of discipline which tended to produce disorder in the ranks even of the revolutionaries.
The result of the Finnish revolution did not, however, depend upon these circumstances. It was impossible to avoid defeat when the German Government had joined the other hangmen. But suppose the German Government had not interfered, what would have happened? We cannot say with certainty, but it is possible that the result of the struggle might have depended on whether revolutionary order was to be severely maintained for a considerable time as an intentional dictatorship, or whether it was to be merely a humanitarian stage on the road lending to the haven of peaceful ​democracy. Indirectly, in that case, all would then have depended on what standard or symbol was put forward by the S.-D. leaders.
One thing, which in a certain measure contributed to giving a certain character to the programme of the People's Commissariat and the Finnish Social Democracy, was the line of action we felt bound to pursue with respect to the "petit bourgeois" and peasant, endeavouring not to repel or frighten them with the terms Socialism and Dictatorship of the Proletariat, but striving to quieten them by talking democracy and otherwise treating them gently. This was well enough as an election dodge, but it was not revolutionary tactics. During the revolution this prudence on our part was seen to he a mistake. The tranquillity of the "petite bourgeoisie" and their vague sympathies, did not, and could not have any noteworthy influence on the development of the struggle. The fighting spirit depended entirely upon the workers, upon their enthusiasm, boldness and confidence in the revolutionary lenders. Democratic formulæ were calculated rather to depress than to stimulate the workers' enthusiasm, for without any doubt they looked upon them as something out of place rather than as the final aim for which the worker was, if need arose, joyfully to sacrifice his life. The clear signals of class Socialism would have aroused their ardour in an altogether different way. They would then have felt that the struggle was indeed carrying them onward straight to the realisation of the greatest historical ideal. And if they had seen that the lenders of the revolution treated the bourgeoisie with the severity which must be used in a bloody class war towards the enemies and oppressors who but deserved to be oppressed in their turn, then the workers would have felt in their hearts a boundless confidence in their comrades at the head of things.
For every working-class party leading a revolution, the most precious thing to possess is the enthusiastic confidence of the workers. No mite of this should be lost, if we want to see the revolution triumphant.