It is not hard to see how many holes there were in the language in which we argued. The states which were usually considered despotic, such as Byzantium or Turkey, developed no irrigation facilities whatever. The power of the Chinese emperors, which was certainly despotic, was for some reason not based on the rural commune at all. The obviously Oriental country of Japan for some reason turned out to be by no means a despotism. But the main thing was, how was all this to be related to Russia, where, although there were rural communes, there was no irrigation? And where, on the other hand, until the very end of the nineteenth century there was no bourgeoisie capable of competing with the nobility? It seemed that the Russian autocracy (
True, following Lenin, one could still call it "semi-Asiatic," but what was the concrete meaning of this supposed to be? Which half of it was Asiatic and which European? Which features separated it from despotism, which from absolutism? What part of our past was determined by Asia and what part by Europe? And what was still more important—how did they determine our future? There was no answer to these questions.
On the other hand, a person who a quarter of a century ago secretly read Leonard Schapiro's book
Is it really conceivable that modern physiologists would argue about the functions of the kidneys, for example, or chemists about an element, without having determined beforehand just what they were discussing? And that, as a result, it would turn out that by "kidney" some people actually meant the liver, while others, in referring to an element, meant the entire periodic table? But isn't this exactly what happens to us when we placidly list "autocracy," "authoritarianism," "absolutism," "unlimited power," "despotism," and "totalitarianism" simply as synonyms, separated from each other only by commas? And is this not why our arguments, instead of generating the truth, as they were supposed to do, are transformed into a babel—a definitional chaos, a dialogue among the deaf?
Faced with the tormenting riddles of Russian history, which over time took on the increasingly urgent and practical outlines of the fateful question of where we are going and what will become of us, I decided on a step as extraordinary as it was presumptuous. What else remained to one who had abandoned Marxist scholasticism as powerless to answer his questions, and was at the same time cut off from any systematic acquaintance with contemporary Western literature, but to suggest his own conceptual language—his own instrumental apparatus, capable, at least, of adequately describing the prerequisites of the task?
I started by asking why, inasmuch as not all non-European states answered the description of Asiatic despotism, all European states must necessarily be absolutist. Had not even Aristotle in his