The Long Retreat: Strategies to Reverse the Decline of the Left
By Boris Kagarlitsky
Published by Pluto Press
Boris Kagarlitsky, a prominent leftist thinker, political prisoner and fierce critic of neoliberal capitalism, has consistently offered a critical lens on global capitalism and Russia’s position within it. His latest work, The Long Retreat: Strategies to Reverse the Decline of the Left (Pluto Press, 2024), emerges at a moment of acute crisis for both global and Russian capitalism, compounded by the war in Ukraine — a conflict Kagarlitsky has resolutely opposed. Imprisoned for his anti-war stance, Kagarlitsky remains committed to his homeland, as his recent public refusal to participate in potential prisoner exchanges with the West testifies. His book is a timely, sobering and, paradoxically, hopeful examination of capitalism’s decline and the left’s prospects for renewal.
I write this review from the vantage point of someone who has been in regular contact with the author over the past few months of his incarceration. As we work on joint research projects, most of our conversations revolve around the themes explored in the book: the deepening crisis of contemporary capitalism, its different manifestations domestically and internationally, unequal relations between the capitalist core and the periphery, and, inevitably, the new forms of social and economic organisation that may replace capitalism in the future.
The crisis of capitalism: A system imploding
At its core, The Long Retreat situates contemporary struggles within the context of a deepening systemic crisis of capitalism, which Kagarlitsky identifies as beginning in the 1980s and ’90s. This era marked the rise of neoliberalism, with its dismantling of welfare systems, privatisation of public assets, and destruction of organised labour. These policies, initially hailed as modernising reforms, were, as Kagarlitsky notes, “a desperate attempt to stave off collapse by sacrificing social stability.”
Kagarlitsky traces the roots of this crisis to the exhaustion of the post-war welfare state. From the 1940s to the ’70s, this model had temporarily stabilised capitalism by balancing class compromise, union strength and reduced inequality. Yet globalisation, technological shifts and diminishing profit margins ultimately undermined this framework. Neoliberalism emerged as a reactionary response, prioritising profitability over social cohesion. This restructuring was not confined to the West. It extended its grip globally, shaping the trajectories of former socialist states, including Russia, as they transitioned to market economies.
Kagarlitsky’s analysis challenges the conventional narrative that democracy and capitalism are intrinsically linked, as argued by such scholars as Torben Iversen and David Soskice (2019) and Martin Wolf (2023). Kagarlitsky objects, saying that “…the bourgeoisie has never had any need of democracy; its social interests consist in the formation of a law-governed state with independent judges, reliable information, guarantees that contracts will be observed, clear legislation, a disciplined and predictable bureaucracy, and secure property rights.” He highlights the efficiency of autocratic regimes, such as China, in delivering these key components of capitalism (a phenomenon largely ignored by the champions of the umbilical link between capitalism and democracy). For him, “The belief in democracy as a necessary companion to capitalism is a dangerous illusion, blinding us to the realities of autocratic capitalism’s successes.”
Kagarlitsky highlights the hollowing out of Western democracy, which is progressively transforming into “a façade embellishing the ugly edifice of the corporate state.” Kagarlitsky argues that weakening ties between citizens and political parties, coupled with the diminished capacity for grassroots organisation, have eroded meaningful political engagement. Traditional roles such as organisers and ideologues have been replaced by media-savvy spin doctors who prioritise superficial messaging over substantive discourse. Attempts to foster meaningful public discussions are increasingly seen as disruptions to a system that prioritises commercial interests, predictability and the minimization of risks, stifling any debates that challenge societal stability or the status quo.
Dialectics of decline and renewal
A central strength of The Long Retreat is Kagarlitsky’s application of Marxist dialectics to contemporary issues. He consistently examines the contradictions between appearance and substance, production and consumption, and crisis and opportunity. For example, in his critique of neoliberalism, Kagarlitsky highlights how financialisation appeared to resolve capitalism’s consumption crisis by enabling households to borrow extensively. In reality, this shift merely postponed the contradictions, deepening systemic instability as financial obligations replaced workplace exploitation as the dominant form of oppression.
Kagarlitsky’s analysis of the Green New Deal offers another example of his dialectical method. While some capitalists embrace green technologies as a solution to ecological and economic crises, Kagarlitsky argues that their primary motivation lies in countering declining capitalist profits.
He demonstrates the dialectical interconnectedness between capitalism and socialism. Thus, Kagarlitsky argues that capitalism owes its most attractive features — such as social protections and democratic rights — not to its intrinsic vitality, but to competition with socialism and pressure from labour movements led by strong trade unions and visionary left structures. “Capitalism’s finest hours,” he writes, “were forged not in isolation but in response to the challenge posed by socialism.”
The left in retreat: A movement in crisis
If capitalism is faltering, why has the left not been able to mount a meaningful challenge? Kagarlitsky does not shy away from hard truths. He argues the left has become disconnected from its roots in the working class, prioritising political correctness, identity politics and cultural debates over bread-and-butter economic issues.
Kagarlitsky recognises that defence of the rights of minorities is an indissoluble part of the modern democratic order, but the essence is the right of these minorities along with the majority to be free from persecution and discrimination. It is not an entitlement to special rights and privileges, which grant these minorities particular advantages. Kagarlitsky argues that positive discrimination, on which a section of the left insists, is not just in contradiction to democracy but, like other neoliberal reforms, is an instrument serving to destroy it. This leads to a disastrous outcome when “the majority disappears, to be replaced by a mass of minorities who need to be protected, no longer from the majority but from one another.”
Take the Canadian trucker protests of 2022 analysed in the book. While mainstream media outlets painted the protesters as reactionary, Kagarlitsky argues the real failure lay with the left. Instead of engaging with these workers and their legitimate grievances, the left dismissed them outright. This, he says, reflects a broader tendency to socialise with elites rather than organise among the working class.
The same conclusion is perfectly applicable to the outcome of the 2024 US elections, which Kagarlitsky analyses in a recent interview. “In 2016, both the liberal establishment and liberal left received a very serious lesson,” Kagarlitsky observes. “But they did not learn from it. Worse, they doubled down on implementing principles of political correctness against the backdrop of dismantling the welfare state and pursuing market reforms.” This abandonment of working-class interests has created fertile ground for right-wing populism, which channels anger not at capitalism but at scapegoats like immigrants and minorities.
Russia’s crisis: A case study in neoliberal collapse
Kagarlitsky’s critique of capitalism is uniquely informed by his decades of research on Russian society and politics. He views Russian capitalism not as a deviation from the global norm but as a direct product of neoliberal restructuring. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the remnants of the decayed and degraded Soviet social and political structures, along with the practices that characterised them, became combined in their own organic fashion with the relationships and practices peculiar to late capitalism (Jameson, 1991). In his earlier works, such as Empire of the Periphery and Restoration in Russia, he argued that Russia’s trajectory reflects the broader trends of capitalism’s peripheralisation. In The Long Retreat, he expands on this, situating Russia’s ongoing challenges within the broader systemic crisis of global capitalism.
For Kagarlitsky, the war in Ukraine is yet another manifestation of the ongoing crisis in the global capitalist system, where economic imbalances and competition for scarce resources drive states towards militarisation and aggression. Kagarlitsky argues that developments occurring in Vladimir Putin’s Russia — marked by steadily rising state expenditures on coercive institutions, an increase in personnel within these structures, and their growing involvement in various aspects of life — are not an outlier but rather a pronounced example of a broader trend. Moreover, as has often been the case in Russian history, these processes stand out as a particularly striking or extreme expression of this general pattern.
Kagarlitsky argues that the driving forces of the conflict in Ukraine are primarily corporate and economic, stemming from structural issues within the neoliberal capitalist system. According to Kagarlitsky, both Russian and Western elites have vested interests in securing profitable sectors of Ukraine’s economy, such as grain production and remnants of Soviet infrastructure, which make Ukraine a site of economic competition rather than ideological confrontation. Far from acting on ideological whims, the Russian ruling class is pursuing material interests through territorial expansion.
The neoliberal reforms of the 1990s, Kagarlitsky asserts, created an elite class that views power solely as a vehicle for personal enrichment. “The key to this paradox,” he writes, “lies in the fact that power is viewed solely as a technical resource … to gain access to an unlimited amount of money.” This instrumental view of governance has compounded Russia’s social and economic fragility, especially in the wake of the war in Ukraine. Sanctions, economic isolation and structural stagnation have intensified the contradictions of Russian capitalism.
Negative convergence: The worst of both worlds
Kagarlitsky introduces a striking concept to describe post-socialist states: negative convergence. When socialism collapsed, these nations were promised prosperity through integration into global capitalism. What they got instead was the worst of both systems: social protections and collective ownership were dismantled, but the promised democratic and economic benefits of capitalism never materialised.
A former East German once remarked, “Now we know that everything Communist propaganda told us about socialism was a lie, but everything it told us about capitalism was true.” This anecdote captures the disillusionment of millions in the former Socialist world, so vividly described by Kagarlitsky, who saw their societies transformed into peripheral capitalist economies, marked by inequality and exploitation.
Russia epitomises this trajectory. The post-Soviet transition dismantled public systems, eroded labour rights and exacerbated inequality, replicating the worst features of early capitalism. Kagarlitsky critiques this process as a failure of both domestic and international elites, who prioritised short-term profit over sustainable development. His analysis underscores the interconnectedness of global and national crises, highlighting how neoliberal policies in one region can reverberate globally.
Kagarlitsky sees Russia’s ruling elite as a product of neoliberalism’s global crisis. Far from being an aberration, Russian capitalism reflects the same patterns of corruption and inequality found elsewhere — only intensified by its authoritarian veneer.
Opportunities amid crisis
Despite his grim diagnosis, Kagarlitsky remains optimistic about the potential for systemic change. In his opinion, the deepening crisis of ruling class hegemony creates new opportunities for the left. As more people become disenchanted with the existing system that had earlier suited them well enough, the need for a new social bloc uniting diverse social groups emerges more clearly. Kagarlitsky argues that political unity under the conditions of a heterogeneous society inevitably takes on the form of a coalition, even if in technical terms the representatives of various social groups and currents can be kept within the framework of a single party.
He identifies crises as moments of rupture that expose capitalism’s contradictions and create openings for alternative models. For example, he highlights how technological advancements could empower workers and facilitate democratic planning, provided they are harnessed to challenge capitalist alienation.
But Kagarlitsky warns against quick fixes like Universal Basic Income (UBI). He sees UBI as a band-aid solution designed to stabilise capitalism rather than transform it. Similarly, while he is sympathetic to Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), he acknowledges its limitations, particularly its failure to address capitalism’s structural contradictions. “The real obstacle,” he writes, “is not a lack of ideas or political will but the entrenched interests of capital, which resist any meaningful reform.”
One of Kagarlitsky’s most innovative discussions centres on the politics of time and leisure. He revisits Karl Marx’s concept of the “economy of time,” arguing that modern technologies could enable a reimagining of work and leisure. However, he warns that without structural change, increased leisure risks being commodified, reinforcing consumerism rather than liberating individuals. “Modern technological conditions,” he writes, “make it possible to undermine the monopoly of the ruling classes on managerial power … to make the bourgeoisie unnecessary to the reproduction of the economy.”
Kagarlitsky’s analysis of the war in Ukraine is particularly compelling. He views the conflict not as an ideological or geopolitical aberration but as a systemic outcome of neoliberalism’s contradictions. The war, he argues, reflects the declining hegemony of Western capitalism and the reconfiguration of global power dynamics.
Kagarlitsky is sceptical about the prospects of Russia's economic “de-linking” from the West as conceptualised by Samir Amin (1990). While the war and sanctions have forced some degree of import substitution and capital retention, these measures remain superficial without a broader shift in class power and systemic priorities. True transformation, he argues, would require mobilising resources for public investment in education, healthcare and regional development — a far cry from the current regime’s agenda.
Yet Kagarlitsky sees potential for change amid the turmoil. Drawing on Lenin’s analysis of World War I, he suggests that wars often “tear apart the veil of illusions” surrounding capitalism, exposing its contradictions and creating openings for radical change. While critical of Russian elites, Kagarlitsky identifies opportunities for grassroots movement to push for systemic reforms. He argues that societal fragmentation creates opportunities for organised and strategically focused groups to emerge as new centres of power. “In a context where society lacks cohesion and direction,” he writes, “a group that demonstrates unity, organisation, and clarity of purpose can leverage the crisis to gain disproportionate influence.” Incidentally, some representatives of the Ukrainian left (Ishchenko, 2024; Kyselov, 2024) believe that this war also offers a glimpse of hope for systemic socio-economic reforms in Ukraine that could benefit future generations.
A call to action
Throughout The Long Retreat, Kagarlitsky emphasises the inseparability of theory and practice. His critical analysis extends to the realm of practice beyond the moralistic solutions disconnected from class realities by contemporary critics of capitalism, such as Paul Collier and Martin Wolf. For Kagarlitsky, socialism is not a distant utopia but a practical necessity. He advocates for creating “institutional enclaves of socialism” within the capitalist system — initiatives that reclaim public ownership, democratise credit and empower local communities. Drawing on the lessons of Yugoslav self-management, he emphasises the importance of balancing worker control with strategic economic planning. These initiatives, he argues, can serve as foundations for broader systemic transformation.
Kagarlitsky’s personal commitment to these ideals is evident in his recent statement on his imprisonment. Refusing to participate in potential prisoner exchanges, he declared, “If staying means being in prison, then I will stay in prison. After all, imprisonment is a normal professional risk for a left-wing politician or social scientist in Russia.” This unwavering dedication underscores the stakes of his analysis and the urgency of his call to action.
The Long Retreat is more than a critique of capitalism’s decline — it is a blueprint for renewal. Kagarlitsky challenges the left to move beyond lamentation and engage in strategies that respond to the crises and opportunities of our time. By integrating historical analysis, dialectical critique, and a pragmatic vision for action, the book offers a roadmap for reclaiming the future.
