To me, the most compelling part of the reading is where it seemed as though the unfree were more concerned with their ties to the French Nation instead of being fully consumed with the sense of wanting to be fully free and independent themselves. It just enlightened me to the extent to which the french had asserted in the minds of these Haitians that to be French was something of prestige and honor which in turn created this sense of a hierarchy. Do other people believe that this tool was equally as important as using violence in order to establish order?

An interesting point Kapuscinski makes in Shah of Shahs is on the aftermath of revolutions. He notes that revolutions are invigorating and meaningful while they’re happening, then shortly after, those same passionate participants are left with a hollow loss of meaning which longs for the excitement and hope the revolution once offered.

This phenomenon entices the question of how to reproduce the meaning and identity in a revolution and maintain this meaning. How, even, does a nation frame this (preserving the meaning found in revolutions) as their national objective and maintain this energy while also maintaining a stable government?

It’s interesting to note that the energy found in a revolution, at least in the case of Iran, seems to be strongly tied to a sense of euphoria and re-enchantment found in hope for attaining a better state of being (perhaps in similar idealized versions of the past). In many cases, as the world continues to progress and faces irreversible changes of modernity (i.e. technology, changes in culture, socialization, etc.), we face a time where our revolutions are motivated by ideals and euphoria of a time we can never return to. This can be attributed to part of the emptiness following revolutions—although participants may have “won” and achieved their political ambitions, they will never be able to regain the national state of being that fueled them while revolting since the nation has progressed irreversibly and that state is no longer attainable.

Thus, leaders of nations following revolutions must carefully channel the energy and idealism of citizens which was found during the revolution, into a vision for the future which incorporates some of the values of identity that motivated the revolution. For example, Khomeini carefully channeled the Iranian Revolution’s resistance to the rushed “modernization” and Westernization of Iran by the Shah and the Revolution’s euphoria for maintaining a more traditional, Persian lifestyle into an Islamic religious movement in Iran, with the clever move of working to associate Islam with the Persian ideals that Iranian revolutionaries fought to preserve. He also made sure not to reject modernity and the progression of society as a whole, in order to keep Iran relevant as a modern nation while moving forward with his vision of Iran as an Islamic nation.

Thus, although it’s an inevitable consequence of time and culture that nations progress irreversibly, which prompts a loss of identity when a nation places meaning in aspects of its own history, leaders of the aftermaths of revolutions have an opportunity to progress the nation along a new vision, while maintaining some of the energy of the revolution, if they incorporate the euphoria of what was worth fighting for into their new vision for the nation.

The question that sits most on my mind is one of the roles that icons and idols play in the revolutionary memory, and in the success (or failure) of revolt. This line from the Kapuscinski’s Shah of Shahs especially stands out when considering the idea: “He did not understand that even though you can destroy a man, destroying him does not make him cease to exist. On the contrary, if I can put it this way, he begins to exist all the more.” (Kapuscinski 32)

Gandhi, the icon of Indian independence and the Partition of India. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X, icons of the Civil Rights movement. Khomeini and Mossadegh, icons of opposing sides of Iranian politics. My question is two-fold: first, would these movements have had the impact they did without these icons at the head of the movements? And second, would these movements have the legacy that they do today without these iconic names to tie these histories to? It’s a question of hope and of memory, of how challenging, chaotic events find the hope necessary to continue fighting, and how we remember these events happening.

These names serve as cues that spark a certain emotion, one that changes as time and place do. The name George Washington may incite a sense of American pride, of the founding of an American Dream, as much as it may provoke a memory of the racist, genocidal foundation that the dream is founded on. I always heard of Mahatma Gandhi as an icon of peace and unity but gained an interesting perspective on the controversy behind his legacy while living in India with a Sikh Punjabi family.

I don’t yet know how to answer my own questions, but the evidence seems to point towards icons and especially those who witness these icons and idols as a crucial and ubiquitous element of any mass revolt, both in the moment of revolt and in the memory of that moment.

“You are witnesses of these things.” Luke 24:48

As we have seen throughout history, human beings in their very nature are constantly evolving and seeking something different and exciting. Therefore, as we have seen in various parts of the world, no matter how strong a regime may appear to be, eventually the people rise up and are ready to do anything to bring about change. This change usually takes place in some form of a revolution which brings together ordinary citizens from all over as they are inspired to be a part of this journey towards change. Through this journey, the comradery and the belief of a better tomorrow attracts people because this a time where people from all walks of life feel connected and part of something that is bigger than them. However, it is ironic that most of the time when people finally achieve the change they had have fought so hard for and dreamed about, they often realize that things go back to being the same and those who have acquired power fall into the same habits of their predecessors. Considering this, we see that change is indeed inevitable because human nature attracts as to this flashy and thrilling idea of change but often times we are disappointed as we see that the same patterns keep on reoccurring with just different actors. This sort of irony that comes out of revolutions is what I find extremely fascinating when studying about revolutions because of how hard we fight during them but end up going back to our old ways.

There seem to be two elements of revolutions that are always in conflict, the appeal of and hope for change and the fear of what comes next. It can be difficult, however, to identify when the appeal for revolution finally overtakes the fear of change. The fear of change, not of the institutional response to revolution, is ultimately the only element precluding revolution since the majority of individuals will not even consider revolution unless it seems inevitable. The question then becomes what causes individuals to choose revolution if they are so afraid of change and chaos?

Revolutions themselves are chaotic, but humans do not seek chaos. As stated by Kapuscinski: “if we find ourselves in such a situation (dramatic/chaotic) we look feverishly for a way out, we seek calm and, most often, the commonplace.” I would argue that those living under autocratic, dictatorial, or colonial rule (and maybe more specifically those who choose to engage in revolution) do not find their current state of being as calm and nondramatic. If anything living daily with the fear and uncertainty of being targeted by those in power is not a state of calm or commonplace living as described by Kapuscinski. This ultimately may manifest itself in a breaking though not always resulting to revolution. This breaking point, in certain cases and under the right circumstances, can lead to a unifying sentiment of change that results in revolution. This sentiment and choice to engage in such a rare collective action is what, ultimately, makes revolutions so fascinating especially given the intensity of this collective sentiment and in its quick disappearance.

In regimes where corruption, tyranny, and inequality are pervasive, the ruling class is usually able to live in prosperity through consolidating the wealth and resources of their country, while the general population is left struggling, disenfranchised, and hopelessly impoverished. While the call for revolution is often motivated by the aforementioned conditions of poverty, oppression, and general abuse, Kapuściński keenly observes that “revolutions erupt rarely” (Kapuściński, 103). Perhaps instead of asking why revolutions, we should be asking why not revolutions?

Kapuściński asserts that the first phase of revolution begins with an awakening, characterized by a population becoming aware that the abuses of their government “are not the natural order of this world”.  While Kapuściński asserts that the consciousness of injustice will first provoke an outcry for change and progress, he eventually cites that if change is not created through other means of protest, a population will rebel as a “last resort”.  However, Kapuściński never truly elaborates on this notion of a last resort. In order for a person to participate in a revolutionary activity, they must be willing to sacrifice their life for their cause. They must be willing to look down the barrel of a gun, and indignantly disobey authority potentially at the expense of their life.

Revolution erupts when the consequence of dying fighting for change becomes a more favorable recourse, compared to the alternative of inaction. The stakes for both the revolutionary and the regime are literally life and death, and there can only be one winner. Moreover, it is irrational for a revolutionary to believe that they stand a chance to win, outgunned by a repressive state apparatus. Revolutions should be ubiquitously suicidal, and while they often are, David can occasionally topple Goliath. The elements of a revolution, the irrationality, the desperation, and the possibility for the impossible to occur, are what makes revolutions so alluring.

As Kurzman’s analysis makes clear, revolutions are extremely multifaceted creatures. Their autopsy requires interweaving or at the very least considering information from numerous different fields and lenses. The allure of the subject academically can be derived from interest in any number of disciplines, political science, economics, social psychology etc. But I do I believe, which is what I think you want us to get at, is that revolutions have something more. Their allure is more than the sum of its multidiscipline parts.

I think sheer radical change and drama contained within a revolution makes the study of them seem to blur the line between reality and fantasy. Not in the sense that people are confused about whether these things actually happened, but that the extent that these events deviate from the normal course of behavior make learning about them in a vacuum not much different from consuming dramatic fiction.

The fact that these events did actually happen, and (in some of the success) radical change has been made, certainly makes revolutions captivating to people who feel in any way constrained by powerful societal forces.  At times, revolutions seem like actualizations of the impossible, involving the removal of forces so seemingly powerful (in relative terms) that they appear to exist alongside the laws of nature. I would agree that many people are scared of radical change in practice, but if anything that fear only makes the study of revolutions more dramatic and seductive, whether they serve as examples of what could go right or what could go wrong.

The narrative of recorded history centers on large scale change. The clear “before” and “after” that revolutions create on timelines helps humanity organize its histories in ways that make logical sense. But this has also impacted the way in which people define what a revolution truly is. Within the context of larger human histories, revolutions (in the way social scientists use them to periodize) function as a clear break between what came before and what comes afterwards. Thus, revolutions are automatically associated with substantive, high effort, and potentially costly change. The allure of revolutions and the trepidation most feel about joining them comes from this association.

One result of this association is that revolutions become moments rather than movements. The ease with which social scientists can point to revolutions as the agents of change alters conceptions of what it means to be revolutionary and the actions associated with it. This is not to say that everything can be revolutionary, but more that nothing is revolutionary until its impacts can be properly contextualized within the dichotomy of before and after. Within this framework, revolutions are powerful forces with perhaps the greatest levels of potential social, economic, and political agency. The association between agency and revolution can play off of larger desires for progress and change, justifying why the concept of a revolution is so alluring to observers.

But if revolutions appeal to the types of progress that help define the narrative of human existence, why is there so much reluctance to actively join them? Perhaps there are greater realities about the success rate of social/political revolution? Maybe the demands of reality exceed demands for substantive change? Are revolutions just like the classic New Year’s resolution of going to the gym that many make but never follow through on because their lives get in the way? Whatever the answers may be, Tocqueville’s musings on democracy perhaps best highlight one way in which the association of revolution with dramatic human change has altered the perception of what it means to join one or be revolutionary. He stated that democrats (participants in a democracy) “love change, but dread revolution,” stemming from a careful abstention of “touching what is fundamental” to society because doing so would alter the very institutions that permit democratic change. Yet, it is obvious that what it means to be an American today is fundamentally different than what it meant in 1840 (when Tocqueville wrote) or 1776, meaning some revolutionary change occurred despite the willingness of the population.

The association of revolutions with massive change and the ways in which they are used to periodize make it easy to think of them as moments in human history with magnified consequences rather than processes that are a product of human agency.

Revolutions are extraordinary. They are by surprise. They are unpredictable. As Shah of Shahs reads, “Revolt is a great experience, an adventure of the heart.” Revolutions are stimulating, they provide a rush of youthful thought, of unified sacrifice. However, when revolutions end people are lost. They seep into their monotonous lives once again. This can explain why society is always chomping at the bit for revolution. As we’ve discussed in class, at its first opportunity, revolt will occur. This is because people long for that rush of revolt. Why Revolutions? Because for many, revolutions are empowering. They are a way to break the boring trends of everyday life.

Not only do Revolutions provide an “extraordinary event” as Kapuscinski would say but unify communities of people who normally wouldn’t bat an eye at one another. It is the adrenaline of unified defiance that makes up the tempting allure of Revolution. Furthermore, people will always be enticed by the human connection that revolution forces upon its participants. The Unthinkable Revolution reads, “People who used to confront each other with hostility…now, because of their common struggle, have become kinder to each other and treat each other with generosity.” Revolutions require sacrifice and sacrifice requires trust, a trust that is strengthened through connection. Kurzman argues that people are dying to participate, that human nature yearns for the courageous act of participating in rebellion. Revolutions are a vessel for empowerment, unification, connection and agency. As Kapuscinski would say, people will always have that pebble that nags at their side, waiting for the chance to be revolutionary.

One of the great enduring debates among historians is the question: “Is history deterministic?”. That is, are the great historical events and eras the inevitable conclusion of long-running grand trends and forces? Or simply the result of many chaotic dice rolls? Put another way, was the start of world war one caused by the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, or by the complex alliance system in pre-war Europe?

Whatever the answer to this question when it comes to the rest of history, revolutions feel distinct in this regard. That is, revolutions are so alluring because they feel particularly chaotic.  For one moment in history, the power structures holding a nation in place are lifted. The result is incredibly fast change: more changes occur in a year during a revolution than during a century of gradual reform within existing institutions. And while we might accept gradual change to be inevitable, rapid change feels chaotic.

Yet it is worth examining where this belief comes from. Are revolutions especially chaotic, or do they just feel that way? We can trace the causes of any revolution to grand trends and forces as easily as we can for any historical event. And the outcome of a revolution is rarely especially surprising once it starts. But in order to start a revolution, the participants have to buy into the idea that this is a moment where anything is possible, when a normally invulnerable regime can be overturned. And they have to successfully convince others of this idea. What if our human fascination with revolutions is just the result of us falling for their propaganda?