yup
babbys first third campism / chomskyoid or 1 of 12-steps of US patriotic-liberal detox
Reds! A Revolutionary Timeline
- Thread starter Aelita
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Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
yup
babbys first third campism / chomskyoid or 1 of 12-steps of US patriotic-liberal detox
The idea that enough is affirmatively known from the extremely sparse documentary record and archaeology where anything besides a frankly pitifully partisan polemical analogy of a crudeness that even Pipes would be ashamed of as a historian can be made, between, say the Ur-III Dynasty neo-Sumerian polity of antiquity, or maybe the ancient Egyptian or Mycenaean Greek polities of the same period on one hand; and the "mature 'Five-Year Plan'-ified' Soviet society" on the other — is frankly so obvious on just a glance of the available data pool on either side that it ought not to be said. Total buffoonery.
You haven't, as noted, replied materially because the evidence alluded to not only simply does not exist from the Bronze Age on one hand to the 20th century on the other; but also because you do not even know those facts at first-glance and therefore how cringely forced the claim posed is before one even begins examination.
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- Pronouns
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Can we not restart this argument after it was already wrapped up and done with?
Been listening to a podcast on the Mexican Revolution, were there posts about what Mexico was doing in this timeline?
Yes, there's some long Mexico-centric ones under the informational tab near the top of the drop down menu
Foreign Affairs (Part One)
Aelita
Solving the riddle of history
- Location
- The left-wing of the impossible
Foreign Affairs
Part One
Part One
The bright lights of the Metropolis skyline filtered in through the windows of my hotel room. Such a wonder of the age, it seldom ceases to amaze me. It's only twilight, and still the glow of the artificial lights burns away the darkness like the noonday sun. This hustling metropolis never sleeps it seems. In the few weeks that I'd been living there, the relentless pace of city life had never once faltered, and tonight it was no different. If anything, the war was only giving new urgency to it all.
The bellhop, a right cocky young Negro man still fresh-faced and boyish, had told me that the city's central committee had mooted but ultimately rejected implementing total wartime blackouts. It had been decided, apparently, that economic efficiency required leaving some of the lights turned on.
How can a people this soft hope to prevail against steely Prussian militarism? I often wondered. I left my desk, the typewriter paused mid-word, standing to stretch my sore bones. Long cold, half-empty mug of tea in hand, I peered out the window, looking down on the rush of traffic below. Workers, many just leaving factories after long wartime shifts, were congregating at the street corner newsstands. "The universities of the revolution," they'd been called.
I scoffed just thinking about it. Everyone in this blasted country, from janitors to prostitutes, fancied himself or herself to be an intellectual. Still, on the whole they had exceeded my expectations; their "intellectualism" didn't seem to be only limited to Marxist dogmatics.
I set my tea aside, as unfinished as my manuscript. I'd been dispatched to New York by The Times to report upon the developing conflict between the Comintern and the German-led Axis Powers, now embroiled in Eastern Europe. That was the publicly stated reason, anyway. But The Times herself had undergone a change of editorial slant recently. E.H. Carr was ascendant, and even the owners of this venerable institution of journalism agreed that the foreign policy of His Majesty's Government was disastrously short-sighted. I'd agreed with the real purpose of my assignment, to help dismiss any myths about the war and the American state's involvement in it and thus increase support for intervention and an end to the appeasement of Germany.
I had been selected because I had no great love for Socialism nor America. I neither mourned the passing of the late United States, nor did I champion the coming of this new "Union of American Socialist Republics." The long and fierce Liberal heritage of my family, which I had done my part to uphold at Cambridge as well as in professional life, coupled with what my employers had flatteringly described as my "natural, if slightly naïve incorruptibility," had earned me this task.
It was our common enemy that kept us all in common purpose. Were it not for the War, and the disastrous leadership of first Chamberlain and now Lord Halifax, I would not have remained with The Times long enough for it to gain the nickname of the "threepenny Daily Worker."
I decided against tidying my hotel room. I dumped the cold tea in the washroom sink, leaving the mug on the edge of the bath. I threw on my coat, gathered my keys and pocketbook, and left my dreary room. I decided that my companion and I would head out for the night, for a few drinks and take in the sights. Research indeed. I knocked on his door, just down the hall from mine. "Mister Standfast," I called out, "It's Kerrigan! I think it's time for another research trip."
I heard a soft voice mumble something, probably something to the effect of "At this hour?" if I knew my old friend well.
Standfast opened the door wearing his usual perpetual frown. "Kerrigan, I know your writing muse is alcohol, but must you bring me along as well?"
"Standfast my old boy!" I cried, "You're looking as grey and world-weary as ever. Come along now, a few pints might put some colour in your dour mood."
He cleaned his thick spectacles with the fat end of his crooked tie while chewing it over. Standfast had gone straight from adolescence into his middle age, and I was shocked to learn that this shy little man was only twenty-five years old. "Oh, I suppose there's no resisting you, is there? Fine then, but you're buying."
"Wouldn't have it any other way. Come along, I hear that there's a nice place a few blocks from here we haven't visited yet, called the Cutty Sark. A good Scottish pub, run by an ol' Scottish mac from the auld country."
Standfast almost laughed I think, but his expression remained as morose as ever. "Your attempts at faking a Glaswegian accent haven't improved," he remarked as he made his way to the stairs at his usual slow but deliberate pace.
The evening air was cool and refreshing, especially after having holed up in my hotel room for most of the day. The street traffic nearly drowned out our conversation. Though I must admit, it was a rather one sided affair. As we walked, I did most of the talking. Standfast mostly nodded along, occasionally quipping some dry comment to take the wind out of my sails.
I had been to New York before, when I was barely a man, involved in some transatlantic business for my father's firm. To tell you the truth, it had not changed greatly in the past ten years. Some of the scars of the civil war still lingered, but on the whole the populace was not much redder than they were before the revolution. They were just in power and triumphant at the moment. The skirts were shorter, the workers' councils more active, and the people more zealous. But on the whole, we should have all seen the revolution coming. The Communists had already won before the first shot was fired. The nucleus of their new system had already been birthed within the body of the old one.
The Cutty Sark was inviting, and I had worked up a considerable thirst. I half dragged Standfast to the bar. After he began to dig his heels in, I relented, and agreed to find a table in a quieter corner of the building. But quiet was a sort of relative thing; it was a Saturday night, and after a long day spent in the dizzying array of assemblies, councils, and committees that make up the skeleton of American civic life, it was popular to go to the pub, and continue to talk shop while slightly inebriated.
The waitress was polite but not overly friendly. I ordered some of the local flavour. Since Standfast seemed paralyzed with indecision, muttering something about whether to see if the porter measured up. So I ordered for him to spare him from the continued agony. The waitress quickly scratched down our order on a little pad, and briskly moved on to the next table.
"Must you be so meddlesome?" Standfast said wearily, as though he already knew the answer.
I didn't see the point in answering. Soon enough, the waitress brought two pints—excuse me, half-litres—of foamy golden lager. And to be perfectly honest with you, while I didn't care for the style, it wasn't half bad. Standfast seemed to enjoy it as well. He seemed so inscrutable to me; he barely talked about his personal life at all, and scarcely talked anymore about world affairs. Why he had taken up this profession baffled me. Journalism, especially foreign correspondence, seemed to be work suited only for adventurous gadflies and incorrigible womanizers.
As far as I could tell, the crowd that frequented the Cutty Sark was mostly the young and fashionable sort. The usual array of strapping young men, with slicked back hair, double breasted leather jackets, and colourful trousers. Some wore more traditional professional dress, sans the neck-tie. A scarf, usually red but occasionally black, was the most usual stand in. For my part, I tried to blend in as well as I could, but I drew the line at goggles and jackboots.
Standfast, on the other hand, remained as resolutely bourgeois as ever, and on some level I admired him for it, even if he did it out of tired habit.
It was a mixed crowd too. Plenty of young women, some of them dressed much like the men, but others wore enticingly short skirts. As I contemplated whether or not to eat the house's offerings rather than endure another dismal attempt to cook myself a meal, a group of young coeds strutted by our table. With their chests puffed up proudly in their tight sweaters, it was hard not to get distracted. They sat not far away, giggling loudly. I licked my lips, contemplating how best to approach them.
"On the prowl again, Kerrigan?" groaned Standfast.
"How can I not be? A bachelor has never had it quite as good as here in Metropolis after the revolution. The women here are loose—excuse me—'liberated,' and they practically give themselves to the hunter."
Now, I have a fairly high estimation of my abilities. I had quite a list of conquests before accepting this assignment, and it isn't just due to my grooming and rugged good looks. Men more attractive and well-bred than I don't have half my accolades. But I did not suddenly become so much more charming or handsome after one transatlantic boat ride.
"Has it not occurred to you that they're hunting you?"
As if to punctuate his statement, the waitress returned and promptly set a cocktail glass before me. "Excuse me comrades," she explained, "But it appears you caught the eye of one of our patrons. She says to tell you that she heard your accent, and wished to welcome you to the cradle of our revolution with one of the local drinks."
I saw her up at the corner of the bar. As I looked up, she was raising her own glass to me. Her short red hair, trimmed close on the sides but longer on the pate caught my eye first. She was…tomboyish to say the least. Her face was girlish enough, definitely no pinup girl though. She didn't wear a speck of makeup. It took me a moment to realize she was wearing the olive service uniform of the Revolutionary Army, but with the mandarin collar unbuttoned, revealing the black turtleneck beneath.
The drink was ruddy brown, with a little cherry in the bottom. "Capital. What is it?"
"She said to come ask her yourself."
It was smooth, I'll give her that. I made a mental note to remember that line for later. I excused myself from our table. Standfast rolled his eyes as always. I sauntered over to my androgynous mystery woman. She was not my type, but her boldness definitely had my interest.
"It's not poison, is it?" I said in my best RP, something I found always loosened American women's morals. It was exotic and dangerous I suppose.
She had that cocky half-smile that I'd seen in the mirror plenty of times. "Only if you drink too much." She patted the stool next to her, and I obliged. "It's a Manhattan; rye whisky and sweet red vermouth with a dash of bitters."
"My name is Henry Kerrigan," I said, offering her my hand.
She shook it firmly. "Lieutenant Jane Schafer. So tell me, Kerrigan, what brings you to Metropolis?"
I found myself getting a little lost in her wolfish grin. I wondered idly what was making this woman so alluring. I took a quick drink from the Manhattan. It went down smoothly. "I'm a journalist actually."
"I don't suppose you've come all this way to sample the whiskey here."
"No ma'am, though I must say this drink was worth the trip." She chuckled softly. Good, I thought, she doesn't think I'm completely daft. "I'm actually here to report on the war. Specifically, the home front, to give readers back home a more favourable impression."
"The Times then?"
"You are sharp," I said, trying to mask my surprise.
"You have to be in my profession."
"And that would be?"
"That depends. Are you here for business or pleasure tonight, Kerrigan?"
I had finally figured out what was so captivating. It was her voice, low and sultry for a woman. And that unashamed way her eyes seemed to undress me. That damnable Standfast, he was right; I was the one being hunted tonight. "Pleasure," I said confidently.
"Good. Political commissars shouldn't make a habit of carousing with foreign journalists. But if you're just a private citizen right now, then I don't see any problem."
My heart jumped a little bit. I felt a wave of nervous excitement. They'd warned all of us on this expedition about StateSec. Somehow, though, the aura of mystique just made her more alluring. If I had been paying more attention, I'd have seen the Party emblem on her collar. "Any problem for what?" I said, finishing my drink.
Jane stood up. She pulled me off my stool, 'til I pressed close to her body. "Dancing," she said, as she guided my hands to her hips.
I won't go into great detail about what followed. I am, after all, a gentleman. But suffice to say, we danced for a while in the pub. Then we retired to my hotel room for a more intimate sort of dancing.
Afterwards, we lay in bed quietly. I do not know if it was the alcohol, the exhaustion from a day spent hammering away at a typewriter, or the night's other activities, but I started to doze off while she held me close to her chest. We lay cwtched together for some time, and it seemed like there was no other sound in the world other than her gentle breathing on the back of my neck.
I felt her start to stir, and my eyes fluttered open. The city lights filtered through the Venetian blinds. I turned to see Jane standing at the other side of the bed, beginning to dress. A wave of shame fluttered over me. So that's what it felt like…
"Hullo," I groaned, still groggy with sleep.
"Oh, you're up," she said flatly, "I was trying to save us an awkward morning."
"Too late for that."
"In my defence, I did stay for a few hours. You weren't exactly an engaging conversationalist."
Impossible. I checked my pocket watch; it had been at least a couple hours. Where had the time gone? "Ah, my apologies." I propped my pillow up at the head of the bed. "Still…it was nice. You're not like any woman I've ever known."
She laughed quietly. "Flatterer."
It must have worked, since she stopped dressing after putting on that absurd brassiere designed to minimize the profile of the breasts. She stooped over, kissing me on the forehead. "Alright, I'll stay for a bit. Let me put a kettle on, since I doubt either of us will be getting back to sleep."
"You're a sweetheart," I said.
The match flared brightly, filling the room with the aroma of brimstone. The range lit without difficulty, blue flames dancing. She filled the kettle, and set it on the range. I finally got a good look at her unclothed body. I couldn't help but feel envious of her physique. It reminded me of the marble sculptures of the great masters.
"Are all women soldiers as athletic as you?"
She tsked. "No. But most are. Are you surprised?"
"To be perfectly honest, yes."
She slipped into the bed next to me. "You think we're playing at soldiering," she accused.
I didn't answer. Which was probably all the answer she needed. Even in the dark, I could see her disapproval.
"The world is changing, Kerrigan. You can't stop it. Nobody can."
"You think I don't know that?" I hissed, "I am a journalist. I take my profession at least as seriously as you take yours. My assignment here is proof of that."
"You're obviously not some starry-eyed British pinko. I'm sure you think of yourself as liberal and oh-so open-minded, but you view every stirring of the oppressed against their chains with such disdain. So why are you here?"
"I would like to think we're fighting the same war. Just in different fields."
She fluffed a pillow and sat beside me at the head of the bead. "Go on, I'm listening."
"The British nation has become the unwitting co-belligerents of the Germans. While our financiers make truly outlandish loans to the German government, oft rumoured to be underwritten by His Majesty's Government, some of us still remember the last time German militarism was allowed free reign over the continent."
The kettle began to boil. She leapt to it immediately. While she asked me how I took my tea (plain), I wondered just how much I should share with this woman. As she passed me the piping hot black tea, our fingers brushed. I looked up to see her smile. Good, she didn't seem too mad at me, and for a moment I wondered if this would not be a one-time event.
"May I ask how old you are?"
"I'll be twenty-three soon."
I felt a little roguish being twelve years her senior. But at least this time I could excuse myself, though I would probably never admit it to my peers, she was the one who had conquered me. "I was young enough there was no danger that I would ever be conscripted in the Great War. But I was my father's second son. My older brother joined the British Army in 1916, just after his eighteenth birthday. He made it almost to the end; the Germans killed him during the 1918 Spring Offensive."
"You hate them, don't you?"
"The Germans?"
She nodded.
"Hate is a strong word. But yes, I do very much blame Germanic militarism for my brother's death. And I dare say I've come to hate all militarism with equal enthusiasm. I'm hardly alone in having lost, and it kills me to see the memory of our fallen desecrated by short-sighted anti-communist alliances. Since then, I've never trusted Germans, and I never will."
She…laughed? I froze, somewhere between anger and confusion. "You've been sleeping with the enemy then." She kissed my forehead so tenderly. "I was born in Berlin. My parents were ordinary German workers. When the war ended, they joined with millions of their comrades to put an end to Junker militarist-capitalism. My father marched with Red Rosa in November 1918. The Freikorps put him—and many others—up against a wall for joining the general strike. My mother left the Old Country to live with relatives in America."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know—"
"If there is one thing I would like you to take away, it is that the Internationale will not stoop to fighting the war on the terms set by the Nazi-Fascist Axis. The stubborn, prideful, chauvinistic German will be dragged to freedom whether he likes it or not."
Before I knew it, she was on my lap, kissing me. There was a lust for life behind her kisses, and instantly I feared the worst.
When she finally gave me a moment to breathe, I whispered, "You're shipping out to the front soon."
"Ja."
"I've…grown rather fond of you in the short time we've known each other. Don't get yourself killed."
"I feel the same."
We spent the rest of the early morning talking. Mostly politics. I found her strident, if not fanatical, in her devotion to "the cause", which she often spoke of in such reverent terms. She had heard the call to arms in defense of liberty and answered it. Her attachment to the cause was as much intellectual as it was emotional, and I admit I had fully succumbed to the temptation to underestimate her on more than one occasion.
That transatlantic affect slipped at some point, and I felt I was really starting to know the East-Side Jewish girl underneath it all. She spoke German with an appalling Yiddish accent,and chided my German for sounding too much like a "Hamburger professor". She spoke no French, and laughed openly when I declared it the language of love. After another…tryst…while she whispered sweet-nothings in German into my ear, I am becoming sympathetic to the idea that love has many dialects.
We parted late in the morning. Her liberty was near up, and soon she'd take a troop train out of Penn Station. Despite promises to write, I think we both knew at the time it would be unlikely we would see each other again. Yet life is oft full of surprises.
I remember this old sidestory very well.
Kerrigan felt like a very natural character: while he has misgivings about American society, he isn't portrayed as evil or malicious—just someone bedazzled by a new order.
I would think Kerrigan would look at America's vast wealth and the fact the UASR Americans triumphed in their civil war as signs that America can put up a fight. Does Germany lasting as long as it did during the Great War color his perception a bit?
The American Dream has increasingly gone from "Let's make a better life for ourselves" to "How much loot can I extract from society." It's too easy to associate our problems with simple greed: in America, the dollar sign has become our tradition, and everyone is fascinated with the next big "success story." The problem is that, especially nowadays, success is judged based on one's net worth, not how one achieved that money to begin with or whether that success benefits society in any way.
Some guy can inherit a factory from his grandfather and outsource it to a low-wage country. All the chambers of commerce will praise his business sense, even when it's built on the sweat and toil of sweatshop laborers in Dhaka.
In short, Americans are a society that has made materialism and wealth into a faith all of its own. Whether Forbes praises the next great genius, like that conman SBF, or religious figures ask for private jet money, we've made "gimme, gimme, gimme" into our national model.
I'd like to think that Americans are beginning to wake up, albeit slowly, to the repercussions of extreme wealth concentrations. Still, this semi-ideal world can only exist in our minds until we can reject the worship of money itself.
Kerrigan felt like a very natural character: while he has misgivings about American society, he isn't portrayed as evil or malicious—just someone bedazzled by a new order.
I would think Kerrigan would look at America's vast wealth and the fact the UASR Americans triumphed in their civil war as signs that America can put up a fight. Does Germany lasting as long as it did during the Great War color his perception a bit?
The American Dream has increasingly gone from "Let's make a better life for ourselves" to "How much loot can I extract from society." It's too easy to associate our problems with simple greed: in America, the dollar sign has become our tradition, and everyone is fascinated with the next big "success story." The problem is that, especially nowadays, success is judged based on one's net worth, not how one achieved that money to begin with or whether that success benefits society in any way.
Some guy can inherit a factory from his grandfather and outsource it to a low-wage country. All the chambers of commerce will praise his business sense, even when it's built on the sweat and toil of sweatshop laborers in Dhaka.
In short, Americans are a society that has made materialism and wealth into a faith all of its own. Whether Forbes praises the next great genius, like that conman SBF, or religious figures ask for private jet money, we've made "gimme, gimme, gimme" into our national model.
I'd like to think that Americans are beginning to wake up, albeit slowly, to the repercussions of extreme wealth concentrations. Still, this semi-ideal world can only exist in our minds until we can reject the worship of money itself.
Winners of wars tend to cash-in big time, and bigger the war; the bigger the winnings
( goes both ways: hence the critical factor losing has played historically in discrediting established elites and midwifing hyperaccelerated boosting of oppositional left forces [or else what I'd 'fantasist-cosplay' {bc their anti-capitalism is cosmetic and materially impossible} right traditionalist nationalist oppositionists] historically across the board )
The triumph of the UASR-led Vladivostok Compact forces in the Great World Revolutionary War is going to pay huge dividends to the victors that cannot be overstated
Arguably speaking, IOTL Stalinism ( aka 'Marxism-Leninism' ) was a ramshackle improvisational junket that was extremely self-insecure on its own terms ( hence the dynamic emergence of the Yezhovshchina ) just sort of limped along with some prop-up in a parasitic fashion off of the hollowed-out shell of the IOTL Comintern — but what really made 'Marxism-Leninism' into a historical force on a world basis for two generations was its transformation through surviving through and playing key role in the crushing of the Nazi beast and the extirpation of European fascism generally
Stalinism bought its 20th century lease on life and plausible extension-by-imitation as a dividend off that victory credit
BEFORE the GWRW (TTL WW2), the UASR could be characterized in really crude analogy terms as like sincerely popular & practically bona fide Freedom House-compliantish 'democratic' regime based on improvisationally-synthetic procedural guarantees atop the 'paper-Soviet' council-nesting structure — but in final analysis: it's a 30s communist version of dominant-party statism a la the IOTL 1980s Sandinistas in Nicaragua, or early-00s Chavistas in Bolivarian Venezuela, or 00s MAS in Bolivia … that vibe on roids [ tho with statism firmly checked by revolutionary democracy under the hood and the trad party-tops helpfully being decapitated by MacArthur and their movement officialdom clients subsequently held in check by the 'revolution by necessity' within the party & movement due to the coalitionist/patriotic leadership decapitation aforementioned ]
AFTER the GWRW, the UASR & "'Bolshevik Debs-DeLeonism' broadly" ITTL gets a 10x boost minimum vs what the shithouse of Stalinism aka 'Marxism-Leninism' got IOTL
In the UASR and the Latin PCTDRs (Paris Commune Type Democratic Republics) no longer have to operate as 'armed anti-counterrevolutionary' regimes and obliged to treat oppositionists and dissenters as fifth columnists, because the argument has been settled, the Comintern and associate blocs are the prima facie 'normal' consensus now. Oppositionists and dissenters split between protest loserville die-hards tolerated insofar as their pitiful performance does political work for the consolidated regime in displaying their marginality voluntarily, and collaborationists/fellow-travelers who seek to ingratiate and satellite orbit the solidified consensus. And it is in this environment where the Comintern CPs & their Comintern observer-allies (think: the 'Bolshevik + Left SR power to councils' bloc of Russia 1917 IOTL writ large / genericized) end up with their internal factional divisions becoming the de facto 'quasi-PR parliamentary party' practically contesting entities in general elections in pursuit of leading the state policy line setting, between frequent elections backed up by increasingly enforced official turnover
IOTL today all major normally functional electoral parties are practically factional / platform dispute and horsetrading operations within a functionally total bourgeois hegemonic consensus — and operate by proposing to the bourgeoisie and testing ability to mobilize an objectively articulated minority headcount consent against the demobilized and deracinated majority as legitimation of the bourgeois interest coalescing to set and revise policy
ITTL, a flipped-on-its-head version evolves thereby out of the GWRW triumphalism whereby the vanguard / movement operators (Comintern members + observer affiliate allies) at an extremely abstracted analogous level to IOTL meta-framework as above: but instead it's authentically collective organized proletarian response to conditions emerging out and then being tested for support as a majority of the majority (an enormous embarrassment would be an election did not have 60-70% turnout) that returns a current steering officialdom to set and modify line that is super-frequently electorally revised or returned
I think the GWRW would result in huge adaptation and confirmation of the 'Bolshevik / Debs-DeLeonist' schema
You could end up with some political systems in the developing / post-colonial world that feel like "IOTL Marxist-Leninist" v "orthodox 'Bolshevik / Debs-DeLeonist'" arrangements
Insofar that you have the cross-class & nationalist-soft popular frontist unity bloc with the communist workerist thru united frontist hardliners — forming the foundational state — former would end up in practice being the de facto 'local Left SR-analogue' and the latter the de facto 'local Bolsheviks' in the conditions of the local state
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It cannot be overstated how much the Second American Revolution changed the landscape for global communism ITTL. The USSR went from viewing itself as a besieged entity surrounded by enemies to efficiently having most of the New World break the encirclement, fulfilling Lenin's dream of a world revolution not in Europe but in the Americas.
IOTL, many communists became disillusioned by the rigid adherence the Soviets put within their bloc to the type of Marxist-Leninism that Stalin brought and that often restricted the methods, tactics and politics that many international Communist movements could do. ITTL, the UASR could be the standard-bearer of what a political and social revolution could achieve. It breathed new life into the Comintern and allowed it to rise as a forum that easily dwarfed the capacities of the initially revered Second International. As @IlluminatusP pointed out before me, after the GWRW is concluded, the Communist bloc will be more solidified than it ever has been. It will collectively embrace the new trend of "Bolshevik Debs-DeLeonism" and the popular democracies that the UASR and the Latin Revolutions brought, respectively.
And when it does come out of the 40s into the heat of the Cold War, its partner, the USSR, will follow its example as many of its Red Army officers and soldiers realize that the era of "socialism in one country" was dead and that spreading the revolution alongside its ally the United Republics was its revolutionary duty.
IOTL, many communists became disillusioned by the rigid adherence the Soviets put within their bloc to the type of Marxist-Leninism that Stalin brought and that often restricted the methods, tactics and politics that many international Communist movements could do. ITTL, the UASR could be the standard-bearer of what a political and social revolution could achieve. It breathed new life into the Comintern and allowed it to rise as a forum that easily dwarfed the capacities of the initially revered Second International. As @IlluminatusP pointed out before me, after the GWRW is concluded, the Communist bloc will be more solidified than it ever has been. It will collectively embrace the new trend of "Bolshevik Debs-DeLeonism" and the popular democracies that the UASR and the Latin Revolutions brought, respectively.
And when it does come out of the 40s into the heat of the Cold War, its partner, the USSR, will follow its example as many of its Red Army officers and soldiers realize that the era of "socialism in one country" was dead and that spreading the revolution alongside its ally the United Republics was its revolutionary duty.
Miss Teri
The Queen
- Location
- West
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah, we're not doing this.
- Location
- The Midlands.
@gooderyan, are you talking about in-universe perspectives from outsiders who don't see the UASR in an unambiguously positive light and might have some valid criticisms or are you looking for Reds! content written by anti-communists?
Miss XTC
2 kawaii 2 live 2 sugoi 2 die
- Location
- HelLA.
- Pronouns
- She/They
i have never read a criticism of the TL that was never in bad faith. so there might as well never be one.
- Location
- Iran
- Pronouns
- He/Him
im exactly looking for bad faith
any criticism of it..
bad faith or good faith.
in universe or out of it.
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PlasmaKitten42
reading Reds! as a coping mechanism
- Location
- the accursed 21st
- Pronouns
- Any/He/Him
....So this isn't looking for "oppositional viewpoints", this is looking for "objectively wrong". That's what arguing in bad faith is, knowing your arguments are false and making them anyway.
Perhaps an in universe anti communist polemic by Ayn Rand showing the kinds of arguments made to justify the continuating Cold War?
- Location
- Iran
- Pronouns
- He/Him
good faith is good too..
think of it i once heard from a user that
uasr cant have both welfare and good military
is that true?
Spartakrod
Judeo-Spartacist Bolshevik-Kabbalist
- Location
- Sanctum Arcanorum
- Pronouns
- Fae/Faer/Faers/Faerself
That's a bloody goofy non-sequitur. The literal OTL USSR had welfare and one of, if not the single strongest land army on the planet. The comintern doctrine of "every person from age ten onwards gets significant aspects of reservist training incorporated into school education to the point of, with periodic refresher courses, virtually the entire adult population knowing what to do if the call for the levee en masse is made and as such is one giant reserve" also means that the conscripts are anything but badly trained and there can be a lot of them on short notice.
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Also it can't be overstated just how insanely vast the resource base of any half-way competent regime occupying the territory of the United States is going to be - easily outstripping the OTL USSR. We know the UASR goes through a period of austerity in the post-war years but that is largely because it is maintaining a military at least as large as the OTL USA's and doing a mega-Marshall Plan for the rest of the Comintern. Given the UASR lacks a lot of the structural inefficiencies of the OTL USA, I think its reasonable to believe it is going to be able to maintain a military at least as strong as the OTL US and have a more generous welfare state.
Spartakrod
Judeo-Spartacist Bolshevik-Kabbalist
- Location
- Sanctum Arcanorum
- Pronouns
- Fae/Faer/Faers/Faerself
The armies of the great powers look more like that of OTL China as well as North and South Korea than those of the modern EU, Russian Federation, or USA since they're still prepped for massive "across the entire border of contention" land wars which IRL is something only a handful of countries, almost all of which are in Asia, still do. This also includes significant effort towards building major stockpiles to both replace losses and accommodate a quick growth in military size, and they borrow the German habit of overtraining officers and NCOs to smoothly move up in rank to command freshly raised units. This also means that they have significantly more industries set aside for war production or are able to quickly shift over to it if need be. Additionally, as stockpiles grow obsolete, they're typically scrapped and recycled to become raw materials and a source of components for newer units.
Military production tends to be split into tiers: First Echelon (National or very Trusted ally), First Echelon (Export), Second Echelon (National or Trusted Ally) and Second Echelon (Export) though often rear echelon/third echelon/category C (however youw ant to call it) units, reservists, or lower priority allies make do with modernisations of prior gen equipment if upgrading it to still be relevant is still deemed to be more efficient than recycling them to build newer gear. And of course sometimes older gear will persist while waiting for stocks of new gear to arrive and be doled out.
One should also consider that the VOSCOM and AOFS are much more integrated blocs than exists OTL, the major allies supplement each other's production and make sure their equipment is compatible enough to use smoothly in multinational units, be produced by an ally, or be integrated into an ally's units. You have tank factories in China, the USSR, and America producing the same sets of vehicles to ensure adequate stock for the whole of the big three and multinational development teams working together. All facilitated by the fact that the Stavka of the VOSCOM in particular, and of the INTREV of the Comintern as a whole, are supreme over the national military general staffs and have the authority to force such integration and standardisation.
The AOFS sort of has the funhouse mirror of this due to the FBU's dominance over the rest of the alliance where they simply imposed a mixture of French and British standards on half the world and since so much of the alliance have direct ties to the Metropole, integrating their command was easy enough work and most of them were already working with French and British technology; while western Europe and Brazil were easy enough to rope into a British lead standardisation and cooperation scheme.
It's partway between modern systems of globalised logistics and simply just doubling up on industrial output by having people on the same team make the same things so everyone has enough to use.
Military production tends to be split into tiers: First Echelon (National or very Trusted ally), First Echelon (Export), Second Echelon (National or Trusted Ally) and Second Echelon (Export) though often rear echelon/third echelon/category C (however youw ant to call it) units, reservists, or lower priority allies make do with modernisations of prior gen equipment if upgrading it to still be relevant is still deemed to be more efficient than recycling them to build newer gear. And of course sometimes older gear will persist while waiting for stocks of new gear to arrive and be doled out.
One should also consider that the VOSCOM and AOFS are much more integrated blocs than exists OTL, the major allies supplement each other's production and make sure their equipment is compatible enough to use smoothly in multinational units, be produced by an ally, or be integrated into an ally's units. You have tank factories in China, the USSR, and America producing the same sets of vehicles to ensure adequate stock for the whole of the big three and multinational development teams working together. All facilitated by the fact that the Stavka of the VOSCOM in particular, and of the INTREV of the Comintern as a whole, are supreme over the national military general staffs and have the authority to force such integration and standardisation.
The AOFS sort of has the funhouse mirror of this due to the FBU's dominance over the rest of the alliance where they simply imposed a mixture of French and British standards on half the world and since so much of the alliance have direct ties to the Metropole, integrating their command was easy enough work and most of them were already working with French and British technology; while western Europe and Brazil were easy enough to rope into a British lead standardisation and cooperation scheme.
It's partway between modern systems of globalised logistics and simply just doubling up on industrial output by having people on the same team make the same things so everyone has enough to use.
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Considering the sheer devastation of much of the Red world, I don't know if "cashing in" is the correct term.
In other words, the UASR's model for socialism has proven to work since it triumphed in the biggest war in human history.
The only frame of reference most people had for socialism OTL was Stalin's brand of socialism tainted by his authoritarian paranoia.
TTL, UASR has proven you can have revolutionary socialist without destroying the pluralism of your society.
I imagine our comrade was someone who has visited TTL East Germany, so seeing a world where the Volkshalle was built and young Germans wave the swastika would be nightmarishly horrific.
Also, despite what some goons might say, welfare makes your society MORE productive. Forcing people to work 12 hours a day and overcharging for things like health care doesn't make you an individualist hero: you just become a burnt-out WRETCH!
If you give people shorter working hours and more benefits, they will be less stressed and innovate more, thus creating more growth in your economy.
Also, being generous to the people will incentivize them to be more likely to defend their country.
Ripping people away from their benefits OTL has NOT made them more productive or more willing to defend their country.
It isn't just logistics that are more integrated than OTL.
In an industrialized society, innovation is as important in war as logistics and training. In an arms race, you need a massive team of scientists working round the clock to innovate.
Sputnik was a turning point in the OTL Cold War, with a mortified America moving heaven and Earth to build a more substantial space-industrial complex to compete with the Soviets. And the space race in turn led to innovations that changed daily life in the world.
TTL, Comintern is a more unified global machine, and so countless scientists have opportunities to collaborate and share that didn't exist OTL. OTL, the repressive Soviet Union already produced great minds like Sergei Korolev and Victor Zhdanov. TTL, the Soviets not only have a more open intellectual atmosphere but the ability to work more freely with American scientists. All these minds working in tandem would produce massive military innovations that could also benefit the civilian sector of society.
PlasmaKitten42
reading Reds! as a coping mechanism
- Location
- the accursed 21st
- Pronouns
- Any/He/Him
One thing about the UASR that does bring up for me is that because the UASR has no intellectual property, corporations won't be able to hoard scientific or mathematical discoveries made by their employees. I must disclaim that this is a bit of a conspiracy theory of mine, but I think there are probably countless major discoveries OTL that the world doesn't know about because they're locked up behind some corporation's trade secrets. With how long Disney has been able to hold onto Mickey Mouse, it's clear that corporations are capable of keeping ownership of ideas away from the public for many decades. It's impossible to know if this actually happens at the scale I'm imagining, but it is likely both possible and something corporations are incentivized to do - my belief is that this is the single largest factor suppressing innovation OTL. The UASR and Comintern generally won't have this problem, which could lead to huge advances in the pace of technology, e.g. why the Internet expy gets built so much earlier than OTL.