V. I.   Lenin

The Handicraft Census of 1894-95 in Perm Gubernia and General Problems of “Handicraft” Industry



The Narodnik Programme Of Industrial Policy

Since practical recommendations and measures are always connected with what is considered to be “gratifying” and promising in reality, one knows a priori what wishes for the handicraft industry would be expressed in the Sketch since it has reduced all “gratifying features” to drawing a rose-coloured picture of wage-labour in petty economy and an exalted notion of the extremely scanty and one-sided associations of small proprietors. These wishes, a rehash of the usual Narodnik recipes, amaze one by their contradictory character, on the one hand, and by their inordinate exaggeration of commonplace “measures,” converted by phrase-mongering into solutions of great problems, on the other. At the very beginning of the Sketch, in the introduction, before the census data are even dealt with, we meet with verbose statements about the “task of handicraft credit” being “to over come (sic !) the money shortage,” about the “co-operative organisation of exchange between production and consumption” (p. 8), about “spreading artel organisations,” establishing handicraft warehouses, technical advice bureaus, technical schools, and the like (p. 9). These statements recur in the book over and over again. “The economics of the industry must be so reorganised as to place the handicraftsmen in possession of money; or, to put it more plainly, to emancipate the handicraftsman from the kulak” (119) “The task of our   time” is to effect “the emancipation of the handicraftsman by means of credit,” etc. (267). “Exchange processes must be rationalised,” measures must be adopted “to implant rational principles of credit, exchange and production in peasant farming” (362); what is needed is the “economic organisation of labour” (sic!—p. 363), “the rational arrangement of the economics of the national economy,” and so on, and so forth. All this, as we see, is the familiar Narodnik panacea, tacked on to the census data. And, as though in final confirmation of their Narodnik orthodoxy, the compilers did not fail to condemn money economy in general, and for the reader’s edification inform him that artisan production “performs a valuable service to the national economy, by affording it the opportunity to avoid the conversion of natural economy into money economy.” “The national economy is vitally interested in demanding that the raw materials it produces be worked up on the spot, as far as possible without the intervention of money in the exchange processes” (p. 360).

Here we have the Narodnik programme expounded with a fullness and frankness that leave nothing to be desired! We say the “Narodnik programme,” for we are interested, not in what distinguishes the compilers of the Sketch from other Narodniks, but, on the contrary, in what they have in common. What interests us is the practical Narodnik programme for the handicraft industries in general. It is easy to see that the main features of this programme are saliently stressed in the Sketch : 1) condemnation of money economy and sympathy for natural economy and primitive artisan production; 2) various measures for the encouragement of small peasant production, such as credits, technical developments, etc.; 3) the spreading of associations and societies of all kinds among the masters, big and small—raw material, warehousing, loan-and-savings, credit, consumers’ and producers’ societies; 4) “organisation of labour”—a current phrase in all and sundry Narodnik good intentions. Let us examine this programme.

To take first the condemnation of money economy: as far as industry is concerned, it is already of a purely Platonic character. Even in Perm Gubernia, artisan production has already been forced far into the background by commodity production, and is in such a pitiful state that we find the   Sketch itself talking about the desirability of “emancipating the handicraftsman from dependence,” in other words, of abolishing the artisan’s dependence on the private customer “by seeking means of extending the marketing area beyond the local consumption demand” (p. 33). In other words, condemnation of money economy in theory and a desire to convert artisan production into commodity production in practice! And this contradiction is by no means peculiar to the Sketch, it is characteristic of all Narodnik projects: however much they may kick against commodity (money) economy, realities driven out of the door fly in at the window, and the measures they advocate only serve to develop commodity production. Credit is an illustration of this. In their plans and proposals the Narodniks cannot dispense with commodity economy. The Sketch, for example, does not even hint that the proposed reforms should not be based on commodity economy. On the contrary, all it wants is rational principles of exchange, the co-operative organisation of exchange. Commodity economy remains, and is only to be reformed on rational lines. There is nothing new in this utopia; it had many an eminent exponent in the old economic literature. Its theoretical unsoundness was disclosed long ago, so that there is no need to dwell on the subject here. Instead of uttering absurd phrases about the necessity of “rationalising” economy, would they not do better first “to rationalise” their notions of the existing economy, of the socio-economic relations existing among that extremely variegated and dissimilar mass of “handicraftsmen” whose destinies our Narodniks wish to decide so bureaucratically and frivolously from above? Has not actual life shown us time and again that Narodnik practical measures, concocted in accordance with supposedly “pure” ideas on “organisation of labour,” etc., lead in practice to nothing but encouragement and support for the “enterprising muzhik,” the small manufacturer or the buyer-up and all the representatives of the petty bourgeoisie in general? This is not fortuitous, it is not because individual measures are imperfect or unsuitable. On the contrary, given the general basis of commodity economy, it is the petty bourgeois above all and before all who inevitably and necessarily make use of credits, warehouses, banks, technical advice and the like.

But, it may be objected, if that is so, if the Narodniks in the practical measures they suggest, unconsciously and involuntarily serve to develop the petty bourgeoisie, and, hence, capitalism in general, why should their programme be attacked by people who on principle regard the development of capitalism as a progressive process? Is it reasonable to attack practical and useful programmes because their ideological integument is wrong, or, to put it mildly, debatable, for surely nobody will deny the “usefulness” of technical education, credits and of producers’ societies and associations?

These are not imaginary objections. In one form or another, in one connection or another, they are constantly to be heard in the replies to the arguments levelled against the Narodniks. We shall not dwell here on the point that even if such objections were justified, they do not in the least refute the fact that the dressing-up of petty-bourgeois projects as the most exalted social panaceas is in itself a cause of grave social harm. We intend to put the question on the practical footing of the vital and immediate needs of the times, and to judge the Narodnik programme from this deliberately narrowed viewpoint.

Although many of the Narodnik measures are of practical value in serving to develop capitalism, nevertheless, taken as a whole, they are 1) supremely inconsistent, 2) lifelessly doctrinaire, and 3) paltry compared with the actual problems with which developing capitalism confronts our industry. Let us explain. We have shown, firstly, how inconsistent the Narodniks are as practical men. Side by side with the measures indicated above, which are usually described as a liberal economic policy, and which have always been inscribed on the banners of bourgeois leaders in the West, the Narodniks contrive to cling to their intention of retarding contemporary economic development, of preventing the progress of capitalism, and of supporting small production, which is being bled white in the struggle against large-scale production. They advocate laws and institutions which restrict the freedom of the mobilisation of land and freedom of movement, and which retain the peasantry as a closed social estate, etc. Are there, we ask, any reasonable grounds for retarding the development of capitalism and big industry? We have seen from the census data that the notorious “independence”   of the handicraftsmen is no guarantee that they will not be subordinated to merchant capital, to exploitation in its worst form; that actually the condition of the vast bulk of these “independent” handicraftsmen is often more wretched than that of the handicraftsmen’s wage-workers, and that their earnings are astonishingly low, their working conditions (from the standpoint of sanitation and hours) highly unsatisfactory, and production scattered, technically primitive and undeveloped. Are there, we ask, any reasonable grounds for perpetuating the police laws which reinforce the “tie with the land,” and forbid the breaking of a tie that appeals so strongly to the Narodniks?[1] The data of the 1894-95 “handicraft census” in Perm Gubernia are clear proof of the utter absurdity of artificial measures to tie the peasants to the land. All these measures do is reduce their earnings, which, wherever the “tie with the land” exists, are less than half those of the non-agriculturists; they lower the standard of living, increase the isolation and disunity of producers scattered throughout the villages and render them more defenceless than ever against the buyer-up and subcontractor. At the same time, the fact that the peasants are tied to the land hinders the development of agriculture, without, however, being able to prevent the rise of a rural petty-bourgeois class. The Narodniks avoid raising the question: should the development of capitalism be retarded or not? They prefer to discuss “the possibility of different paths for the fatherland.” But anybody who begins to talk about immediate practical measures thereby adopts the existing path.[2] Do whatever you like “to drag” the fatherland on to a different path! Such efforts will arouse no criticism (except-the criticism   of laughter). But do not defend that which artificially retards present-day development, do not drown the problem of removing the obstacles from the existing path in talk about a “different path.”

Here is another thing that should be borne in mind when judging the Narodniks’ practical programme. We have already seen that the Narodniks try to formulate their ideas as abstractly as possible, to present them as the abstract demands of “pure” science or “pure” justice, and not as the real needs of real classes having definite interests. Credit—that vital need of every master, big and small, in capitalist society—is presented by the Narodnik as a sort of element in the system of the organisation of labour; masters’ associations and societies are depicted as the embryonic expression of the idea of co-operation in general, of the idea of “handicraft emancipation,” etc., whereas everybody knows that all such associations actually pursue aims which have nothing in common with such lofty matters, but are simply connected with the size of these masters’ incomes, with the growing strength of their position and with their increasing profits. To thus convert commonplace bourgeois and petty-bourgeois wishes into a sort of social panacea only emasculates them, robs them of their vitality, of the guarantee of their urgency and practicability. The Narodnik endeavours to present the urgent needs of each proprietor, buyer-up, or merchant (credits, associations, technical assistance) as general questions towering above individual interests. The Narodnik imagines that he is thereby enhancing their significance, exalting them, whereas actually he is only converting a vital matter that interests certain specific groups of the population into a philistine wish, into armchair speculation, bureaucratic “reflections on the benefits” of things. Directly connected with this is a third circumstance. Not realising that such practical measures as credits and artels, technical assistance, etc., reflect the needs of developing capitalism, the Narodnik is unable to voice the general and fundamental needs of this development, and instead proposes paltry, casually selected, half measures which in themselves are incapable of exerting any serious influence and are inevitably doomed to failure. Had the Narodnik openly and consistently adopted the standpoint of an exponent of the needs of social development along   capitalist lines, he would have been able to note the general conditions, the general demands of this development, and he would have seen that, given these general conditions (the chief of them, in the present case, being freedom of industry), all his petty projects and measures would be achieved automatically, that is, by the activities of the interested parties themselves, whereas, by ignoring these general conditions and proposing nothing but practical measures of an utterly incidental character, he is only beating about the bush. Let us, by way of illustration, take the question of the freedom of industry. On the one hand, it is so much the general and fundamental question of questions concerning industrial policy, that an examination of it is particularly appropriate. On the other hand, the specific conditions of the Perm area furnish interesting corroboration of the cardinal importance of this question.

The metallurgical industry, as we know, is the major feature of the economic life of the area and has laid a very specific impress on it. Both the history of the area’s colonisation and its present condition are closely connected with the needs of the Urals iron industry. “Generally speaking, the peasants were settled in the Urals in order to furnish hands for the ironmasters,” we read in the letter of Babushkin, a resident of Nizhniye Sergi, quoted in the Transactions of the Commission of Inquiry into Handicraft Industry.[3] And these artless words very faithfully depict the tremendous part played by the ironmasters in the life of the area, their significance as landlords and factory owners combined, accustomed to undivided and unrestricted rule, as monopolists who base their industry on possessional rights and not on capital and competition. The monopoly basis of the Urals metallurgical industry has been reflected in law, in the well-known Article 394 of Volume VII of the Code of Laws (Mining Statute), an article about which so much has been and is still being written in literature on the Urals. This law, promulgated in 1806, provides, firstly, that the sanction of the mining authority shall be required for mining towns to open any factory and, secondly, forbids the opening in the ironworks area of “any manufactory or   factory whose operation chiefly depends on the action of fire, necessitating the use of coal or wood.” In 1861 the Urals ironmasters particularly insisted on the inclusion of this law in the terms governing the emancipation of the peasants, and Article 11 of the regulations for ironworkers reiterates the same prohibition.[4] The report of the Board of the Handicraft Industrial Bank for 1895 states, among other things, that “most numerous of all, however, are complaints against the ban imposed by officials of the Department of Mines and the possessional works owners on the opening of fire-using establishments within the areas under their jurisdiction, and against all sorts of restrictions on the operations of the metal trades” (Sketch, p. 223). Thus, the traditions of the “good old days” have been preserved intact in the Urals to this day, and the attitude towards small peasant industry in this region fully harmonises with the “organisation of labour” which ensured the ironmasters a supply of factory workers tied to their locality. These traditions are very strikingly illustrated in the following report in Permskiye Gubernskiye Vedomosti,[9] No. 183, 1896, quoted in the Sketch and rightly referred to there as being “highly eloquent.” Here it is: “The Ministry of Agriculture and State Property requested the Urals ironmasters to discuss the possibility of the ironworks taking measures to encourage the development of handicraft production in the Urals. The ironmasters informed the Ministry that the development of handicraft industry in the Urals would be detrimental to big industry, for even today, when handicrafts are poorly developed in the Urals, the population are unable to furnish   the works with the required number of hands[5] ; if the population were to find jobs that could be done at home, the ironworks would risk being brought to a complete standstill” (Sketch, p. 244). This report evoked the following exclamation from the compilers of the Sketch : “Of course, freedom of industry is a prime and essential condition of all industry, whether large, medium or small. . . . In the name of freedom of industry, all its branches should be legally equal. . . . The metal-working handicraft industries of the Urals should be freed from all exceptional fetters imposed by the ironmasters to restrict their natural development” (ibid. Our italics). Reading this heartfelt and perfectly just defence of “freedom of industry,” we were reminded of the story about the metaphysical philosopher who delayed climbing out of a pit while he pondered over the nature of the rope that had been thrown him. At last he decided: “It is nothing but a rope”![10] In the same way, the Perm Narodniks ask disdainfully about freedom of industry, freedom of capitalist development, freedom of competition: What is freedom of industry?—Simply a bourgeois demand! Their aspirations soar much higher; it is not freedom of competition they want (what a low, narrow, bourgeois aspiration!), but “organisation of labour.”. . . But these Manilovian dreams have only to come “face to face” with prosaic and unadorned reality, and that reality immediately smells of such an “organisation of labour “ that the Narodnik forgets all about the “harmfulness” and “danger” of capitalism, about the “possibility of different paths for the fatherland,” and calls for “freedom of industry.”

We repeat, we regard this desire as fully justified and consider that this view (shared not only by the Sketch, but by practically every author who has written on this subject) does credit to the Narodniks. But . . . what is one to do? It is impossible to say a word in praise of the Narodniks without immediately following it up with a big “but”—but we have two important remarks to make in this connection.

First. We can be sure that the overwhelming majority of the Narodniks will indignantly deny the correctness of our identifying “freedom of industry” with “freedom of capitalism.” They will say that the abolition of monopolies and of the survivals of serfdom is “simply” a demand for equality, that it is in the interest of the “entire” national economy in general and of peasant economy in particular, and not of capitalism at all. We know that the Narodniks will say this. But it will be untrue. Over a hundred years have elapsed since the days when “freedom of industry” was regarded in this idealistic abstract way, as a fundamental and natural (cf. the word italicised in the Sketch ) “right of man.” Since then the demand for “freedom of industry” has been advanced and achieved in a number of countries, and everywhere this demand has expressed the discrepancy between growing capitalism and the survivals of monopoly and regulation, everywhere it has served as the watchword of the advanced bourgeoisie, and every where it has resulted in the complete triumph of capitalism, and nothing else. Theory has since fully explained the absolute naïvetè of the illusion that “freedom of industry” is a demand of “pure reason,” of abstract “equality,” and has shown that freedom of industry is a capitalist issue. The achievement of “freedom of industry” is by no means a “legal” reform only; it is a profound economic reform. The demand for “freedom of industry” is always indicative of a discrepancy between the legal institutions (which reflect production relations that have already outlived their day) and the new production relations, which have developed in spite of the old institutions, have outgrown them and demand their abolition. If the order of things in the Urals is now evoking a general cry for “freedom of industry,” it means that the traditional regulations, monopolies and privileges that benefit the landlord ironmasters are restricting existing economic relations, existing economic forces. What are these relations and forces? These relations are the relations of commodity economy. These forces are the forces of capital, which guides commodity economy. We have only to remember the “confession” of the Perm Narodnik quoted above: “Our entire handicraft industry is in bondage to private capital.” And, even without this confession, the handicraft census data speak quite eloquently for themselves.

Second remark. We welcome the defence of freedom of industry by the Narodniks. But we make this welcome contingent on its being conducted consistently. Does “freedom of industry” merely consist in abolishing the ban on the opening of fire-using establishments in the Urals? Does not the fact that the peasant has no right to leave his village community, or to engage in any industry or pursuit he likes, constitute a far more serious restriction on “freedom of industry”? Does not the absence of freedom of movement, the fact that the law does not recognise the right of every citizen to choose any town or village community in the country as his place of domicile, constitute a restriction on freedom of industry? Does not the peasant community, with its social-estate exclusiveness—the fact that members of the trading and industrial class cannot enter it—constitute a restriction on freedom of industry? And so on, and so forth. We have enumerated far more serious, more general and widespread restrictions on freedom of industry, restrictions that affect all Russia, and the entire mass of the peasantry most of all. If “large, medium and small” industries are to have equal rights, should not the small industries be granted the same right to alienate land as is enjoyed by the large industries? If the Urals mining laws are “exceptional fetters, restricting natural development,” do not collective responsibility, the inalienability of allotments and the special social-estate laws and regulations governing trades and occupations, migration and transfer from one social estate to another, constitute “exceptional fetters”? Do they not “restrict natural development”?

The truth is that on this question, too, the Narodniks have betrayed the half-heartedness and two-facedness that are characteristic of every Kleinbürger ideology. On the one hand, the Narodniks do not deny that in our society there are a host of survivals of the “organisation of labour” whose origin dates back to the days of apanage rights, and which are in crying contradiction to the modern economic system and to the country’s entire economic and cultural development. On the other hand, they cannot help seeing that this economic system and development threaten to ruin the small producer, and, fearful for the fate of this palladium of their “ideals,” the Narodniks try to drag history back, to halt   development, beg and plead that it be “forbidden,” “not allowed,” and cover up this pitiful reactionary prattle with talk about “organisation of labour,” talk that can only sound as a bitter mockery.

The chief and fundamental objection we have to make to the practical Narodnik programme for modern industry should now, of course, be clear to the reader. Insofar as the Narodnik measures are part of, or coincide with, the reform which, since the days of Adam Smith, has been known as freedom of industry (in the broad sense of the term), they are progressive. But, firstly, in that case, they contain nothing specifically “Narodnik,” nothing that gives special support to small production and “special paths” for the fatherland. Secondly, this favourable side of the Narodnik programme is weakened and distorted by the substitution of partial and minor projects and measures for a general and fundamental solution of the problem—freedom of industry. Insofar, however, as Narodnik aspirations run counter to freedom of industry and endeavour to retard modern development, they are reactionary and meaningless, and their achievement can bring nothing but harm. Let us illustrate this by examples. Take credit. Credit is an institution of most developed commodity circulation, of the most developed, nation-wide turnover of commodities. Wherever achieved, “freedom of industry” inevitably leads to the formation of credit institutions as commercial enterprises, to the breaking-down of the peasants’ social-estate exclusiveness, to their mingling with the classes which make most frequent resort to credit, to the independent formation of credit societies by interested persons, and so on. On the other hand, what value can there be in credit measures conferred on the “muzhiks” by Zemstvo officials and other “intellectuals” if the laws and institutions keep the peasantry in a condition which precludes the possibility of a proper, developed commodity circulation, in a condition in which labour service is far easier, far more practicable, attainable and workable than property responsibility (the foundation of credit)? Under these conditions, credit measures will always be something adventitious, an alien growth planted in absolutely uncongenial soil; they will be still-born, some thing only dreamy intellectual Manilovs and well-meaning officials could give birth to, and which the real traders in   money capital will always jeer at. So as to make no unfounded assertion, let us quote the opinion of Yegunov (in the article mentioned above) whom nobody can suspect of—“materialism.” Speaking in reference to handicraft warehouses, he says: “Even under the most favourable local conditions, a stationary warehouse, and the only one in the whole uyezd at that, never can and never will replace a perpetually mobile and personally interested trader.” In reference to the Perm Handicraft Bank, we are told that in order to obtain a loan the handicraftsman must hand in an application to the bank or its agent and name his guarantors. The agent comes, verifies his statement, gathers detailed information about his business, etc., “and this whole pile of documents is sent, at the handicraftsman’s expense, to the head office of the bank.” If it decides to grant the loan, the bank sends (through the agent, or through the volost administration) a bond for signature, and only when the borrower has signed it (his signature being certified by the volost authorities) and sent it back to the bank, does he receive his money. If an artel applies for a loan, a copy of the articles of association is required. It is the function of the agents to see that loans are expended for the specific purposes for which they have been granted, that the business of clients is run on sound lines, etc. “Obviously, in no way can it be said that handicraftsmen can easily obtain bank loans; it may be safely said that the handicraftsman will far more readily turn to the local moneyed man for a loan than submit to all the trying formalities we have described, pay postage, notary’s and local government fees, patiently wait all the months that elapse between the moment the need for the loan arises and the day it is granted, and put up with supervision for the whole period of the loan” (op. cit., p. 170). The Narodnik view on some sort of anti-capitalist credit is just as absurd as the incongruous, clumsy and useless at tempts (using wrong methods) to get done by “intellectuals” and officials things that have everywhere and always been the business of traders.

Technical education. There is hardly need, we think, to dwell on this subject . . . except to remind the reader of the project, worthy of “eternal memory,” of our well-known progressive writer, Mr. Yuzhakov, to implant agricultural gymnasia in Russia, at which poor peasant men and women   would work off the cost of their education by serving, for example, as cooks or laundresses.[6] ... Artels: but who does not know that the chief obstacle to their spreading is the traditions of the very same “organisation of labour” which has found expression in the Urals mining laws? Who does not know that wherever freedom of industry has been introduced in full it has always led to an unparalleled blossoming and development of all sorts of societies and associations? It is very comical at times to see our Narodniks trying to represent their opponents as enemies of artels, associations, etc., in general. The boot, of course, is on the other foot! The fact is that if you want to look for the idea of association and for the means of implementing it, you must not look back, to the past, to patriarchal artisan and small production, which are the cause of the extreme isolation, disunity and backwardness of the producers, but forward, to the future, towards the development of large-scale industrial capitalism.

We are perfectly aware of the haughty contempt with which the Narodnik will regard this programme of industrial policy that is being opposed to his own. “Freedom of industry”! What an old-fashioned, narrow, Manchester School[7] bourgeois aspiration! The Narodnik is convinced that for him this is an überwundener Standpunkt,[8] that he has succeeded in rising above the transient and one-sided interests on which this aspiration is based, that he has risen to a profounder and purer idea of “organisation of labour.” . . . Actually, however, he has only sunk from progressive bourgeois ideology to reactionary petty-bourgeois ideology, which helplessly vacillates between the desire to accelerate modern economic development and the desire to retard it, between the interests of small masters and the interests of labour. On this question, the latter coincide with the interests of big industrial capital.


[1] The Sketch, too, speaks very enthusiastically of the advantages of the village community and of the harm of the “freedom to mobilise” landed property, which, it claims, would result in the emergence of a “proletariat” (p. 6). This contrasting of the community with freedom to dispose of land is an excellent illustration of the most reactionary and noxious feature of the “community.” It would be interesting to know whether there is a single capitalist country in which a “proletarian” earning from 33 to 50 rubles a year would not be classed as a pauper ? —Lenin

[2] And that this existing path is the development of capitalism has not, as far as we know, been denied by the Narodniks themselves, either by Mr. N.-on, or by Mr. V. V., or by Mr. Yuzhakov, etc., etc. —Lenin

[3] Part XVI, pp 594-95. Cited in Handicraft Industries, I, p. 140. —Lenin

[4] See Handicraft Industries, I pp. 18-19.—Sketch, pp. 222, 223, and 244.—Yegunov’s article in Volume III of Reports and Investigations of Handicraft Industry in Russia published by the Ministry of State Property and Agriculture. In publishing Yegunov’s article, the Ministry, in a comment, makes the reservation that the author’s views “substantially differ from the opinion and information of the Department of Mines.” In Krasnoufimsk Uyezd, for example, as many as 400 smithies were closed down under these laws. Cf. Transactions of the Commission of Inquiry into Handicraft Industry, Part XVI, article by V. D. Belov, “Handicraft Industry in the Urals and Its Connection with Metallurgy.” The author relates that the handicraftsmen, fearing to incur the severity of the law, hide their machines. One handicraftsman built a furnace on wheels to cast ironware, so as to make it easier to hide (op. cit., p. 18)! —Lenin

[5] Let us explain for the benefit of the reader that our iron industry statistics have repeatedly shown that the number of workers employed in proportion to output is considerably higher in the Urals than in the Southern or Polish iron districts. Low wages—the result of the workers being tied to the land—keeps the Urals at a much lower technical level than the South or Poland. —Lenin

[6] See next article. —Lenin

[7] There will be some, no doubt, who think that “freedom of industry” precludes such measures as factory legislation, etc. By “freedom of industry” is meant the abolition of all survivals of the past that hinder the development of capitalism. But factory legislation, like the other measures of modern so-called Socialpolitik, presupposes an advanced development of capitalism and, in its turn, furthers that development. —Lenin

[8] Discarded viewpoint. —Ed.

[9] Permskiye Gubernskiye Vedomosti (Perm Gubernia Record )—an official paper that appeared weekly, and then daily, in Perm from 1838 to 1917.

[10] Cf. I. I. Khemnitser’s fable “The Metaphysician,” in which the metaphysician is the embodiment of empty theorising.

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