How much Bolshevism is there in America?

In Short

This book compiles two series of articles originally published in The New York World in early 1921. It juxtaposes an examination of the American labor landscape—seeking to determine if Bolshevism had taken root in the United States—with a firsthand account of the brutal realities of Soviet Russia. By contrasting the resilience of American industrial pragmatism against the collapse of Russian civil society, the reporting serves as a historical snapshot of a country grappling with the fear of imported radicalism while asserting the distinct nature of its own social institutions.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with an investigation into the fears gripping the American public after the rise of the Soviet state. The author, having spent years witnessing revolutions in Petrograd and throughout Central Europe, travels across the United States to measure the strength of the "Bolshevist taint." He finds that while industrial unrest is indeed present, it lacks the ideological cohesion or the desperation necessary to spark a revolution. He distinguishes between the radical, often disorganized syndicalism of the Industrial Workers of the World and the true Marxist-Leninist doctrines originating from Moscow. He argues that American industry is protected not just by its wealth, but by a "migratory" labor force that lacks a permanent class consciousness, preventing the formation of a stable, revolutionary proletariat.

As the focus shifts from industrial centers like Akron and the steel towns of Pennsylvania to the agricultural heartland, the narrative identifies a different kind of challenge: a burgeoning, organized movement among farmers. Unlike the confused efforts of urban agitators, these agricultural groups, such as the Non-Partisan League, operate through effective, localized political and economic structures. They seek to challenge the dominance of urban financial interests, a conflict the text frames as a "real revolution" in American economic life—one that is pragmatic, organized, and distinctly American, rather than a byproduct of European upheaval.

The second half of the book transitions to a harrowing, anecdotal account from a businessman who spent years in Russia. He provides a bleak, unsparing view of life under the Soviet regime, detailing his personal struggles to navigate trade negotiations amidst corruption and state-sanctioned violence. His story moves from the chaos of the Russian Civil War, where he encounters various factions of "Whites" and "Reds," to the systematic repression of Moscow’s "commissar rule." He describes the starvation of the populace, the imprisonment of foreign journalists and residents, and the total collapse of the Russian economy under communistic policies.

The account concludes with a fervent warning to the Western world. Having witnessed the destruction of his own business interests and the suffering of ordinary Russians, the author rejects any notion of trade or diplomatic recognition. He portrays the Bolshevik government not as a political entity, but as a "gang of marauders" whose word is worthless and whose survival depends on the continued exploitation of the people. The book ends by framing the Russian situation as a moral test for the United States, calling upon Americans to recognize that the militant minority in Moscow represents a threat far more dangerous than the militarism they had recently helped to defeat in Germany.

How It Unfolds

The American survey begins The author travels to industrial hubs and mining communities, observing that fears of a Bolshevik takeover are largely overstated. He discovers that local employers often exploit the "American plan" to suppress unions, unintentionally creating friction that mirrors the very radicalization they claim to combat.

The myth of the American proletariat The investigation finds that American workers, particularly in manufacturing, are migratory and lack the class-based identity seen in Europe. This lack of roots, while beneficial to employers, ensures that revolutionary organizers find no stable soil in which to plant their theories.

The farmers’ revolt The focus shifts to the Midwest, where farmers are organizing to challenge the financial control of urban centers. This movement is framed as a serious, pragmatic attempt to change national economic power, contrasting sharply with the "silly parade of arms" favored by urban radicals.

The descent into the Soviet state The perspective switches to a businessman’s harrowing journey through Russia, where he encounters the stark, inhumane reality of Bolshevik rule. He describes the systematic failure of the economy and the pervasive use of prisons to silence dissent.

The closing argument The book concludes with a firm rejection of trade relations with Moscow. It frames the Bolshevik leaders as fundamentally dishonest actors and calls on Americans to address their own domestic issues while remaining vigilant against the spread of authoritarian ideologies.

The People

The book is driven by the perspectives of two primary witnesses. Arno Dosch-Fleurot serves as the skeptical, observant journalist. He is a veteran of the Russian Revolution and the German social upheavals, and his role is to act as a grounded, experienced interpreter for the American reader. He is disillusioned by the "literary" radicals and the inefficient agitators, preferring to trust the evidence of his own eyes in the factories and wheat fields.

Opposing him, in tone if not in purpose, is Hector Boon, the businessman who provides the "inside" view of Russia. Boon is a man of commerce, driven by the desire to recover stolen assets and the frustration of dealing with a regime he views as a criminal syndicate. Unlike the journalist, Boon is deeply embittered. His encounters with the Soviet Foreign Office and the "Vetchika" turn him into an uncompromising opponent of the Bolsheviks. He is joined in his narrative by a cast of tragic figures—English governesses, captured officers, and starving citizens—whose plight serves to humanize the statistical collapse of the Russian nation. These figures represent the human cost of the policies that the book warns against, and their suffering provides the moral weight for the final, urgent call for American non-interference.

In Its Own Voice

"I have been looking for it, and I have not been able to trace a consistent effort at a Bolshevik movement."

The journalist explains his findings after traveling extensively through the United States to search for evidence of revolutionary activity.

"The Bolsheviks are thieves; their word is worthless and their stock in trade is principally stolen gold, and I decline to become a receiver of stolen property even at the instigation of the British Government."

The businessman clarifies why he will never engage in trade with the Soviet Union, despite the personal financial benefits it might bring him.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book examines the durability of the American political and economic system in the face of an existential threat. It questions whether the "social revolution" in Europe is a universal phenomenon or a specific reaction to the collapse of old-world structures. The argument is that American institutions—from the industrial shop floor to the agricultural league—possess a unique capacity for evolution that renders the rigid, top-down dogma of Bolshevism obsolete. It seeks to answer whether the American working and middle classes are susceptible to the siren call of revolutionary change, ultimately suggesting that domestic grievances are best addressed through local, democratic organization rather than the importation of foreign, untested, and inherently destructive radicalism.

Why Read It Today

This book will appeal to students of history who want to feel the raw, unfiltered pulse of early 1920s America. The prose is direct, urgent, and deeply embedded in the specific vocabulary of its era, making it an excellent time capsule for those interested in the "Red Scare" period. Reading it requires a tolerance for the occasionally archaic, journalistic style of the early 20th century, as well as an understanding that the attitudes expressed—particularly regarding labor and foreign-born workers—reflect the prejudices of the post-war climate.

What stays with the reader is the stark contrast between the two halves of the book. While the first half provides a fascinating look at the fluidity of the American labor market, the second half offers a chilling, ground-level perspective on the human consequences of totalizing political ideology. Despite the passage of a century, the core conflict presented—between the messy, imperfect compromises of a democratic, capitalist society and the brittle, coercive certainty of revolutionary movements—remains a recognizable friction. It is a dense, sometimes difficult read, but it provides an invaluable perspective on how a society, in the immediate shadow of a world war, sought to define and defend its own identity.