Karl Kautsky, Die Nationalitätenfrage in Russland, Leipziger Volkszeitung, 12. Jg., Nr. 98, 29. April 1905.
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Translation/Transcription: Daniel Gaido.
HTML Mark-up: Einde O’Callaghan for MIA.
My Armenian friends have asked me to preface this translation of my essay on the Erfurt Programme with a few words on the national question, which is of particular importe to Armenian socialists, especially at the present time.
It is, of course, impossible to provide an exhaustive account of the national question in just a few pages. For the nation is not a community given by nature, as the mass theorists assume, but a social construct that arises at different times from the most varied conditions, takes on the most varied forms, and is in a state of constant historical flux. Even amongst today’s civilised nations, the concept of nationality varies greatly depending on their particular historical development, and every one of our international congresses can tell of the difficulties that arise from this. The French nation, the Irish, the Australian, the Jewish, the Armenian – each signifies something quite different.
However, however different the nations that have emerged through history may be, one thing characterises each of them: the linguistic community. Not everyone who speaks the same language always forms the same nation, but all members of the same nation always speak the same language. Language is, after all, the most important social bond; without a linguistic community, no social interaction is possible.
But the national or linguistic community and the state community do not necessarily coincide. This gives rise to contradictions that form the basis of modern national questions.
Before the advent of the capitalist mode of production, a state could easily encompass the most diverse nationalities. Such a state, for example a medieval or an Oriental one, formed a conglomerate of the most diverse communities, districts, and market associations, which had little interaction with one another, managed their internal affairs themselves, and each dealt with the central authority on its own; contact that revolved almost exclusively around the amount of tribute payments, with which the central authority could do as it pleased. Each of these communities or associations might belong to a different nationality, and the central authority to yet another; that made no difference. Consequently, the structure of such states was very loose. A fortunate conqueror might amass a world empire overnight; a single lost battle could shatter such an empire into a thousand pieces.
The capitalist mode of production brought about lively interaction between the individual communities and districts of a state, and with its commercial and industrial centres; it destroyed the isolation of individual localities, established the closest possible ties between them, and generated an interest in state administration and state organisation, initially amongst the classes closest to capitalist production – capitalists, the intelligentsia, the industrial proletariat, the urban petty bourgeoisie – but gradually even amongst the small-town petty bourgeoisie and the peasantry. Consequently, the democratic aspirations of the lower, democratic classes – which had previously been directed solely at the municipality and the district – now extended to the state; the need for a democratic organisation of the state arose. At the same time, however, national differences increasingly came into conflict with the quest for state unity. The states within which only one language was spoken proved to be the most firmly united and the most powerful. In multilingual states, on the other hand, a struggle arose between the nationalities. For the modern unitary state now sought everywhere to standardise the most powerful social bond – language – within its borders, to conduct state administration, the administration of justice, and education in one and the same language; the nationality whose language was thereby favoured, however, gained immense political and economic advantages over the others. This naturally provoked the fiercest resiste from the disadvantaged nations. To the same extent that the capitalist mode of production develops and the tendencies towards the modern unitary state intensify, not only do state-democratic aspirations grow within its bosom, but, if it encompasses several nations, so do national struggles. Both are children of the same mother and are intrinsically linked to modern development.
On the other hand, as communication increases, so does the exchange of ideas between members of the same nation who belong to different state organisations; and the more fiercely the struggle between nationalities rages, the more strongly each nationality feels the need for a close union of its parts, as the best means of unleashing its full potential. Thus, the capitalist mode of production generates, in nations spread across several territories that are contiguous but belong to different states, the aspiration to unite these territories into a single state, thereby detaching them from their previous state communities.
This national tendency, like the former, arises inevitably from modern economic development and can be suppressed no more than this development itself. Where such national tendencies still have to fight for recognition, every modern party – including the representative of the proletariat, Social Democracy – must take this necessity into account; just as it must support the striving for a democratic organisation of the state, it must also support the striving for state unification and for the independence of the individual nations in which it operates. In this sense, it must therefore be as national as it is democratic.
But just as it cannot and must not be a bourgeois-democratic
party, so it cannot and must not be nationalistic in the same sense
as the ruling classes. Its national and democratic policies must be
in harmony with the nature of the proletarian class struggle and
thereby acquire a distinctive character.
Above all, Social Democracy must, of course, stand in opposition to that reactionary nationalism which, mostly supported by economically reactionary classes – the aristocracy, the petty bourgeoisie and their ideologues – does not regard national objectives as something new, springing from modern conditions, but derives them from the old traditions which it seeks to revive. This aspiration can, at times, also take hold of ideologues among nations with a glorious history who are not otherwise reactionary in their outlook.
Thus, the German liberals loved to view German unity as a revival of the medieval empire; the Czechs, even the democratic ones, wish to restore the realm of the old Bohemian kings; among the Poles, the dream of re-establishing old Poland is still alive. I do not know what the situation is regarding the Armenians, but it is unlikely to be any different. And yet these old empires were not national states in the modern sense at all, because, prior to the capitalist mode of production, the foundations of the state were entirely different from national ones. The Holy Roman Empire, ruled by the Hohenstaufen dynasty, stretched from Denmark to Sicily; at the height of their power, the Přemyslids [2], who resided in Prague, ruled from the Giant Mountains to the Adriatic Sea, that is, far beyond the entire territory of present-day Austria, with the exception of Hungary and Galicia; the realm of the Polish Jagiellons [3] stretched from Poznań to Kiev and Novgorod, encompassing not only Poles but also Germans, Lithuanians, Russians and Cossacks; and likewise, the Armenian Empire of Tigranes [4] comprised the most diverse nations.
To restore the former glory is to attempt to galvanise mummies. But even dreaming of it is harmful, because it distracts one’s gaze from the actual circumstes and encourages all reactionary tendencies.
Social Democracy cannot unreservedly endorse every aspect of the modern endeavour by bourgeois parties to form truly national states. Whilst it must recognise the drive for national independence as legitimate and take it into account, this does not mean that it supports every form this drive takes. And these forms can be very different.
For example, among the various nations living on the borders of Russia – Finns, Latvians, Poles, Little Russians and the various Caucasian peoples; a strong urge for independence, an urge which has given rise to the aspiration to abolish all state association with the Russian Empire, to a violent secession from Russia and to complete state independence for the aforementioned territories. But this applies only in relation to absolutist Russia. If this is replaced by a democratic system, then the desire of these nations for independence could also be satisfied in such a way that they remain within the framework of the Russian Empire, whilst the Empire itself is transformed and assumes the character of a federal state, the ‘United States of Russia’. This might even be in the interests of the individual nations. What binds the English colonies to England is the fact that their independence is far better secured through their connection with the powerful mother country than if each of them were to face the various great powers of the world in isolation.
A similar consideration might even prompt the strongest of the nations on Russia’s borders, with the most vibrant national sentiment, to remain within the imperial federation. For the Poles in particular – and the same applies to the Armenians – the national question is not merely one of independence from the Tsarist Empire, but also of the unification of the various parts of the nation within a single state. Whatever form this aspiration may take in practice, the Poles, and likewise the Armenians, will in any case achieve more by relying on a powerful Russia than by opposing it.
Whether the national aspirations of the Poles and other border peoples of Russia take the form of a quest to break away from the empire or a quest to transform the empire in a federal sense depends largely on the forms taken by the revolution within Russia. I have referred above to the friendly relations between England and the colonies. Such a relationship would be impossible in a bureaucratically centralised state; it is only possible in a democracy. The more vigorously the proletariat acts in the Russian Revolution, the more the revolution becomes not merely a liberal one but a truly democratic one, the more attractive the Empire will become to its border nations, and the more they will prefer a free allie with it to a struggle against it. Conversely, the less success there is in changing the current regime within Russia, the more the revolution at the borders will take on separatist tendencies.
The more democratic Russia itself becomes, the less interest Western European democracies will have in the Polish revolution leading to Poland’s secession from the Russian Empire. This seemed necessary as long as there was no prospect of breaking Russian absolutism from within, as long as a free Russia remained a dream that scarcely anyone dared to dream. A free Poland was therefore only possible as an independent state detached from Russia, and an independent Poland was necessary to curtail the power of tsarism and protect Western Europe against its adve and influence, to make the return of the Holy Allie impossible. And the same applies to the Caucasus. The separation of the Caucasus from Russia, just like the preservation of Turkey, appeared to the democrats of Western Europe well into the 1870s as an important means of weakening Tsarism and thereby strengthening the cause of democracy everywhere.
All these considerations are rendered obsolete by the Russian
Revolution, as soon as it replaces absolutism with democracy. The
struggle most crucial to democracy is now being waged not at the
empire’s borders, but within its heartland. It is in the common
interest not only of the Social Democracy of all the nations of
Russia, but of the entire Social Democracy of Europe, indeed of the
world, that the revolution in Russia proper should be as powerful as
possible, and its outcome as democratic as possible. All the
proletarian parties of Russia, whatever nation they may belong to,
therefore have the task at this moment of refraining from anything
that might weaken the revolution in Russia proper, and of doing
everything that might strengthen it. They must all be imbued with the
realisation that the fate of them all is being decided within Russia;
they must not give priority to separatist tendencies and demands, but
must remain in the closest contact with the Social Democrats of
Russia proper and actively support them. They must, of course, act no
less energetically within their own nation itself, but even there
they must advocate with all their might for the common proletarian
demands and reserve the vigorous defence of specific national demands
– insofar as these are not already included in the general ones
– for the time when the decision has been made in Russia
proper. The final form of their national demands will also depend on
the nature of this decision.
Whatever the final form of the constitutional status of Russia’s border regions may be, it will resolve only part of its national issues; another cannot be resolved in this way. Whether, for example, the Caucasus forms an independent state or a territory of the United States of Russia, the status of the Armenian nationality remains undecided. For in Russia, just as on the Balkan Peninsula, in Asia Minor and in Austria, there are large territories which do not belong to any particular nationality, but in which nations live in a motley jumble and cannot possibly be separated territorially. This gives rise to national issues which are quite incomprehensible to a Western European and cannot be resolved by Western European means. By contrast, they are very familiar to the Austrians, for example; in Austria, too, a number of sensible proposals have been put forward for some time now to combine the self-government of the provinces with that of the individual nations, and within the party organisation of the Austrian Social Democrats, the two forms of autonomy are in practice realised side by side. Nevertheless, and although Austria is being dragged down to the depths by its national disputes, the bourgeois parties have so far stubbornly closed their minds to the idea of national autonomy. Here, too, it is evident once again that the greatest difficulty in resolving a social issue lies in the bale of power between the classes, and not in devising practical proposals. Where there is a will, a way is easily found. On the other hand, paving the most beautiful path is of no use if the will to reach the goal to which it leads is lacking.
The autonomy of nations is compatible with the spirit of bourgeois society, since each nation is thereby separated from the others and elevated to a distinct individual; on the other hand, the peaceful coexistence of nations living in close proximity, which have no means of separating their spheres of influence from one another, meets with great resiste in the very nature of civil society, which is founded on competition and the antagonism between the various strata of the population. Admittedly, competition does from time to time give rise to counter-reactions; all classes of civil society seek, under certain circumstes and indeed time and again, to abolish the competition which becomes harmful to each of them under certain conditions, but the propertied classes know but one remedy for this: monopoly, the granting of privileges to individual classes, regions or nationalities at the expense of others. From the medieval guilds and municipal octroi duties [5] to modern protective tariffs and cartels, these attempts to eliminate competition through monopoly run a continuous thread. But this merely replaces one aspect of the antagonisms generated by competition with even sharper and more oppressive ones.
In stark contrast to the propertied classes, however, the proletariat seeks to overcome competition and its disadvantages within its own ranks: not through monopoly, but through solidarity. In this way, it is able to effectively overcome within its ranks all those antagonisms which divide the bourgeois world all the more the more it seeks to eliminate competition.
Admittedly, there are also attempts within the proletariat to attain a privileged, monopolistic position. Where class consciousness has not yet taken hold within its ranks, but bourgeois ways of thinking are adopted uncritically, and where, moreover, exceptional circumstes create an exceptionally favourable position for individual proletarian strata, these seek to monopolise their position and bar the rest of the proletariat from access to their trade. This tendency was very widespread in certain trades during the guild era. But under the capitalist mode of production, such endeavours become increasingly futile, as the privileged proletarian strata face a growing threat from two sides: behind them surges a mighty army of job-seeking proletarians, and from the front adves an ever more ruthless big capital, armed with all the power of modern technology. Alone and isolated, the privileged working-class strata cannot hold their ground; they must increasingly appeal to the entire working population in their struggles, thereby relinquishing their exclusivity and embracing solidarity.
The propertied classes are privileged classes from the outset; their social position rests on the monopoly of ownership of the means of production. The proletariat, as the lowest of the classes, can never be privileged as a class, nor can it ever exploit other classes. It cannot seize state power in order to replace the old privilege or monopoly with a new one, but only to put an end to every privilege and every monopoly, including those of individual nations: If, therefore, the propertied classes naturally know only how to replace the competition between nations with monopoly, with the privileging of their own nation, then the proletariat, just as necessarily, will everywhere sooner or later see international solidarity in place of national competition and national hatred.
At the outset, of course, there is also national hatred everywhere among the proletarians as a result of their national competition. Where, under favourable circumstes, proletarians achieve a higher standard of living and better working conditions, the capitalist class seeks to deprive them of these gains once more. One of the most popular means of doing so is the introduction of a backward labour force – women and children, unskilled workers, agricultural labourers, and finally workers from foreign nations only recently subjected to capitalist exploitation and not yet equipped to fight against it.
Naturally, and quite rightly, the better-off workers seek to defend their improved position; but it has proved to be a short-sighted policy, one that takes its heavy toll, to imitate the methods of the bourgeois police and privilege state and demand the exclusion of the new labour force.
In the long run, only one method proves effective: to integrate the new competitors into the realm of solidarity, to organise them, and to transform them from strike-breakers and wage-depressors into comrades and fellow fighters. This applies to women, to unskilled workers, and now increasingly to workers of foreign nationalities, whose competition grows all the more as international trade develops. Capitalist industry cannot expand its exports of products without this necessarily being followed by increased imports of raw materials, foodstuffs and labour.
But however hostile the native workers may initially regard the new immigrants, the necessity of uniting in solidarity eventually prevails everywhere. The idea of warding off competitors by excluding them does not hold water anywhere.
The ‘Yellow Peril’ – the competition from the Chinese and Japanese – currently appears to be an exception. The ‘socialism’ of Australian and many American trade unionists is limited to demanding the exclusion of these workers from the country. But this policy of exclusion, too, will prove untenable. Japanese successes have already begun to undermine it. Moreover, it is irrational. For Japanese and Chinese goods cannot be kept off the world market. The only question, then, is whether cheap ‘yellow’ labour poses a direct or indirect threat to European competition. Yet the more the former comes into personal, friendly contact with the latter, the more rapidly their standard of living and resilience (Widerstandskraft: resistance) rise, which those returning home then spread in their own countries. Socialism already exists in Japan, and in China it will follow swiftly. The promotion of this socialism, and not immigration bans, is the best remedy against the ‘Yellow Peril’; the most effective remedy and the only one worthy of a socialist.
The workers of Russia will be the first among Europeans for whom this question takes on practical form. The Trans-Siberian Railway has already attracted numerous Chinese to Siberia. Whatever the fate of Manchuria may be, trade between Russia and China will in any case increase in volume after the war, and with it the influx of Chinese, and perhaps also Japanese, labour into Russia. Organising them and incorporating them into the army of the fighting proletariat will become an urgent duty of Russian Social Democracy.
In another, no less difficult sphere, however, it has already managed to fulfil its international duties. Amidst the colourful throng of peoples in the Caucasus, amongst the masses of as yet completely uneducated proletarians who have flocked from the most diverse nations to the industrial centres south of the Caucasus over the last decade, it has succeeded in create a Social Democratic organisation founded on international solidarity, thereby providing a model for the administration of the Caucasus region based not merely on the autonomy of the country but also of the nations, whilst at the same time uniting them in joint action.
It is impossible for a foreigner to discern what political influence this Social-Democratic organisation wields over the proletariat of the Caucasian territories, and how strong the political power of this proletariat is. However, it would probably be impossible even for a seasoned expert on local conditions to say what influence this proletariat and this organisation will gain in the revolutionary era, for revolutions produce the greatest surprises for everyone, and the proletariat in particular develops by leaps and bounds during a revolution.
It is therefore also impossible to foresee what form the national conflicts and struggles will take in the Russian Empire in general and in the Caucasus in particular. One can certainly say, however, that it is not merely in the general interest of the revolutionary strata that all national antagonisms and problems be curbed as far as possible, so long as the common struggle against autocracy is at stake; but that it is specifically in the interest of the struggling proletariat that complete international solidarity reigns within its ranks. For the proletariat, this solidarity is not merely a matter of the present situation, but is a vital necessity, a necessity for its daily struggles. The proletariat of Russia need not make any sacrifices; it need only follow its well-understood interests and the great example set by the struggling proletarians of the entire civilised world for more than a generation, in order to do what the liberation of Russia now most urgently demands: the uniting of all its peoples in the common struggle against tsarism.
Karl Kautsky.
1. As its opening words indicate, this article forms the preface to the Armenian edition of Karl Kautsky’s Erfurt Programme. – The Editors.
2. The Přemyslid dynasty was the first native ruling house of Bohemia, steering the formation of the Czech state from the late 9th century until their male line went extinct in 1306. Arising from legendary origins with Přemysl the Ploughman, the dynasty entered recorded history with the baptism of Duke Bořivoj I and produced prominent national saints like Saint Wenceslas. Through strategic diplomacy within the Holy Roman Empire, Přemysl Otakar I secured the hereditary title of King of Bohemia in 1212 via the Golden Bull of Sicily. Powered by the immense wealth of the Kutná Hora silver mines, the dynasty reached its zenith under Přemysl Otakar II, who expanded territory to the Adriatic Sea, and Wenceslaus II, who united the crowns of Bohemia, Poland, and Hungary. This golden age abruptly ended when Wenceslaus III was assassinated in 1306, after which the Bohemian crown eventually passed to the House of Luxembourg through the female line.
3. The Jagiellonian realm was one of the largest and most powerful states in early modern Europe, forged in 1386 when the Grand Duke of Lithuania, Jogaila, married Queen Jadwiga of Poland and initiated a centuries-long union. Reaching its territorial and cultural zenith during the 15th and 16th centuries, this massive commonwealth stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, encompassing modern-day Poland, Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine, and parts of Russia. Under rulers like Casimir IV and Sigismund I, the dynasty successfully broke the power of the Teutonic Knights and expanded their dynastic influence over the thrones of Bohemia and Hungary. This vast realm entered a cultural “Golden Age” marked by deep religious tolere, flourishing Renaisse art, and the unique “Golden Liberty” political system, which granted unprecedented power to the regional nobility. The glorious era of this multi-ethnic superpower draws to an end in 1572 with the death of the childless King Sigismund II Augustus, which formalised the union into the elective Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.
4. The Armenian Empire under Tigranes the Great (95–55 BC) represented the zenith of Armenian political and military power in antiquity, briefly standing as the most formidable state in the Roman East. A member of the Artaxiad dynasty, Tigranes II capitalised on the temporary decline of the Parthian and Seleucid empires to aggressively expand his borders. At its peak, his short-lived empire stretched from the Caspian Sea to the Mediterranean Sea, absorbing parts of Syria, Phoenicia, Cilicia, and Mesopotamia, which earned him the prestigious title of “King of Kings”. He fostered a wealthy, cosmopolitan realm blending Armenian traditions with Hellenistic culture, symbolised by his newly constructed, glittering capital city of Tigranocerta. However, his ambitious expansion and close allie with his father-in-law, Mithridates VI of Pontus, eventually triggered an overwhelming military backlash from the Roman Republic. Following decisive defeats by Roman generals Lucullus and Pompey, Tigranes was forced to relinquish his vast conquests in 66 BC, though he was permitted to retain his core Armenian kingdom as a Roman client king until his death.
5. An octroi was a local tax or toll levied on goods brought into a town or city for consumption or trade, serving as a vital source of revenue for municipal authorities across Europe and its colonies. Originating in medieval Europe as a royal privilege granted to towns, this system of domestic customs barriers required merchants to pay duties at designated city gates or checkpoints, significantly increasing the cost of basic commodities like food, timber, and wine. Critics increasingly condemned the tax for restricting internal trade, causing heavy transport delays, -------------------------------------------------and disproportionately burdening the urban poor, leading to its progressive abolition across most of Western Europe by the early 20th century.
Last updated on 14 September 2026
