Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn at the Vendée

The area is perhaps best known as the site of the Vendée Revolt—a protracted insurrection against the French revolutionary government that lasted from 1793 to 1799, and which resulted in approximately 200,000 Vendean military and civilian deaths. Solzhenitsyn’s remarks, which were delivered on the 200th anniversary of the uprising on September 25, 1993, still resonate today even if the historical context in which he delivered them has shifted over the decades.

Primordial Barbarism

Though it is commonplace for peoples in the West, particularly in the United States, to celebrate the idea of revolution and its supposed emancipating effects, Solzhenitsyn saw something much more sinister at work in the “revolutionary spirit,” particularly as it manifested itself in 18th century France and 20th century Russia. He believed that “revolution brought forth instincts of primordial barbarism” and “the sinister forces of envy, greed, and hatred.” The West’s romantic fascination with revolution in centuries past had, by the 20th century, given way to the sobering reality “that revolutions dismantle the organic structures of society, disrupt the natural flow of life, [and] destroy the best elements of the population while giving free rein to the worst.” Indeed, “The very word ‘revolution’ (from the Latin revolvo) means ‘to roll back,’ ‘to go back,’ ‘to experience anew,’ ‘to reignite,’ or at best ‘to turn over’—hardly a promising list.”

Acknowledging the grave dangers inherent in revolution is not tantamount to ignoring the immiseration and injustices that often fertilize them. Though some might charge that Solzhenitsyn was infected by a sort of political naiveté after enjoying twenty years of relative peace and quiet during his exile from the Soviet Union, surely his instincts were in the right place when he opined: “It is now better and better understood that the social improvements that we so passionately desire can be achieved through normal evolutionary development—with immeasurably fewer losses and without all-encompassing savagery.” 

Solzhenitsyn does not clarify what he means by “normal evolutionary development,” though a review of his various exilic writings, particularly his extensive memoir Between Two Millstones (both volumes published in English by University of Notre Dame Press), reveals an honest albeit muted admiration for the localized democratic culture of Vermont—the state Solzhenitsyn took up residence in during his time in America. This environment, which contrasted sharply with the totalitarian Soviet system under which he suffered for decades, offered a glimmer of hope that free discussion, thoughtful reflection, and mutual understanding could yield positive outcomes, not just for the individual but society as a whole. Whether this still holds true today is a matter of fierce debate.

The Self-Contradictory Nature of Revolution

Turning to the French Revolution (and, by extension, the Russian Revolution), Solzhenitsyn observed that it “unfolded under the banner of a self-contradictory and unrealizable slogan, ‘liberty, equality, fraternity.’” This is because “in the life of society, liberty and equality are mutually exclusive, even hostile concepts: liberty, by its very nature, undermines social equality, and equality suppresses liberty—for how else could it be attained?” Undoubtedly, the “social equality” that Solzhenitsyn had in mind here was not the baseline equality citizens might expect before the law, but rather the mandated “equality” imposed by the Soviet system that attempted to level down the material resources and opportunities of the population without regard to intrinsic talents or personal initiative. In order to manufacture this “equality” (which, more often than not, proved to be a fiction), the Soviet Union violently restrained liberty in all of its forms, including the freedom to openly worship God.

As for “fraternity,” Solzhenitsyn had little time for it since, in the revolutionary mind, “it was merely adduced . . . as a catchy extension of the slogan: true fraternity is achieved by means not social but spiritual.” This statement is a reminder that Solzhenitsyn was not concerned merely with mundane matters or social wrongdoings. Contrary to the ideology of his liberal admirers-turned-critics, Solzhenitsyn did not believe that the crises of either the West or the East could be resolved materially. As he made clear in numerous speeches and writings, this grave dilemma that had overtaken much of the globe throughout the 20th century was spiritual in nature. Man had lost sight of his ultimate horizon beyond this world and instead set his sights on recreating—revolutionizing—the world in accordance with his own distorted aspirations and hopes.

Today, while gestures toward revolution in the sense of violent rebellion against governments and social institutions are rare, that does not mean that the revolutionaries have stopped their assault on the last remnants of the social and spiritual orders. Pernicious ideologies promoted in public schools, government agencies, private businesses, and social media call into question not only the highest truths regarding God and man, but the very idea of what it is to be human. Consumer culture and the mad pursuit of acquisition for acquisition’s sake is the new “common good.” And while recent times have witnessed something akin to a pushback against these pathologies, one wonders if Solzhenitsyn would approve of the polarization, invective, and strongarm tactics that are the hallmarks of contemporary American political life.

An Admiration for Resistance

In closing out his remarks, Solzhenitsyn draws a comparison between those who perished in the Vendée uprising in the 1790s and those who gave their lives during numerous outbreaks of resistance to the Soviet state in the 1920s. While France experienced the “Thermidorian Reaction” against the reign of terror inaugurated by the French Revolution, the Soviet Union experienced no such cessation to its bloodletting in the decades following the Russian Revolution. Although Solzhenitsyn’s tone was not an optimistic one, he was never without hope, as evidenced by his closing words at the Vendée:

You and us—we have lived through the twentieth century, a terrorist century through and through, the chilling culmination of Progress so profusely longed for in the eighteenth century. And now, I believe, more and more Frenchmen, with ever-increasing understanding and pride, will remember and cherish the sacrifice of the Vendée.

The resistance of the Vendée, like the outbreaks of resistance to Soviet oppression in Ukraine and Russia, was marked by meeting violence with violence. Tempting though it may be to romanticize such action in a manner not dissimilar from those who romanticize revolution, it is necessary to contextualize these resistance movements. While there are still revolutionary forces at work in society, they have not instigated an armed conflict. Injustices have occurred, but not the sort that demand physical reprisals. Even if we grow impatient with the various attempts to roll back destructive intellectual trends or erase the flood of falsehoods that rapidly spread throughout cyberspace, that does not justify the types of overreactions that are distressingly called for in certain circles. Acting in such a manner is the exact opposite of what Solzhenitsyn hoped could be achieved through “normal evolutionary development.”

The Lessons of Solzhenitsyn at the Vendée

While it is all but impossible to summarize the lessons of Solzhenitsyn’s oeuvre in a single article, let alone a closing paragraph, it is possible to draw out from Solzhenitsyn’s Vendée remarks a crucial lesson—or a warning rather—that rings true across historical contexts: Revolution is never the answer. The fragility of man’s estate here on earth cannot be ameliorated through a violent reorganization of society built on unrealizable promises of mass material prosperity and vague notions of equality. A revolt in favor of the world invariably winds up being a revolt against God. And while we should admire and honor those brave souls who stood toe to toe with tyranny when they had no other choice, their example should be elevated through a more humane, charitable, and authentically spiritual approach to restoring the common good in society.

There is much to be said about the fact that Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the atheist turned devout son of the Russian Orthodox Church, could diagnose the West’s maladies so clearly while admiring those outside of his communion who fought so valiantly to protect the social order and, above all, the rights of the Catholic Church in France. While Catholicism does not loom large in Solzhenitsyn’s words or writings, it has been and must remain the spiritual cornerstone of the West if there is any hope for peace, stability, and order Solzhenitsyn spent his life advocating for.