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Review Article: Theories of Revolution

Michael Freeman

British Journal of Political Science / Volume 2 / Issue 03 / July 1972, pp 340 - 360
DOI: 10.1017/S000712340000870X, Published online: 27 January 2009

Link to this article: http://journals.cambridge.org/abstract_S000712340000870X

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Michael Freeman (1972). Review Article: Theories of Revolution. British Journal of
Political Science, 2, pp 340-360 doi:10.1017/S000712340000870X

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B.J.Pol.S. 2, 339-359
Printed in Great Britain

Review Article: Theories of Revolution

MICHAEL FREEMAN*

Revolution is a venerable, as well as a fashionable, subject of scientific and

philosophical inquiry. It has never been far from the centre of political theory.
The right of revolution is the obverse of the duty of obedience; the explanation of
revolution the obverse of the explanation of stability. These are clearly funda-
mental issues for political analysis.
The history of the subject can be crudely, but usefully, divided into three
periods, which more or less correspond to the three periods into which the dis-
cipline of political science itself can be split. Thefirstperiod, lasting about twenty-
three centuries, is that of the classical theorists, running from Plato to Marx.
Most of those conventionally considered great political thinkers in this period
made some contribution to the theory of revolution, but three stand out for the
enduring interest of their ideas: Aristotle, de Tocqueville and Marx. The second
period, which may be labelled that of early-modern sociology, runs from around
the death of Marx and the ascendancy of Weber to circa i960. It is characterized
chiefly by ostensible commitment to value-free social science and by methodo-
logical crudity. The principal names in the sociology of revolution during this
period were Sorokin, Edwards, Pettee and Brinton. The third period, which is
the subject of this review, began in the early 1960s and is still with us. It is pri-
marily characterized by the influence of functionalism and the drive towards
quantification.
One strand of thought omitted from this schema is that of post-Marx Marxism.
There is almost certainly a much larger body of literature on Marx and Marxism
than there is on revolution. Marxology has become a major sub-discipline within
political science. For reasons of space, it must be put beyond the scope of an
article whose primary concern is revolution, not Marx. I happen to believe that
little is lost by excluding Marxism from a survey of recent theories of revolution,
but to argue that point would require at least another article, if not a book (if
not several books). However that may be, Marxist theory is excluded from the
present study.
To indicate as clearly as possible what this article aims to do, it may be useful
to state what it does not aim to do, but might conceivably have done. It is not a
survey of all the literature on revolution, even of all the recent literature. There
are a number of good reasons for this. Firstly, some of the literature is beneath
consideration. Secondly, there is quite a lot of duplication and thus to treat the
ideas of writer A is often at the same time to treat implicitly the ideas of writers

* Department of Government, University of Essex.

340 FREEMAN

B, C and D as well. Thirdly, there have recently been at least three important
attempts to bring together, organize and synthesize all the literature on revolu-
tion. Before one adds another such effort, it may be as well to evaluate the present
state of the synthesizing literature. That is precisely the purpose of this article.
The works in question are, in chronological order of publication, Smelser's
Theory of Collective Behavior,1 Chalmers Johnson's Revolutionary Change2 and
Ted Robert Gurr's Why Men Rebel.3 These three books are of especial interest,
not only because they are unusually impressive attempts at theoretical synthesis
of a vast body of social science literature, but because they do the job quite dif-
ferently and the later works pay little attention to the earlier. Of the three, only
Johnson's is primarily about revolution: the other two theorize about revolution
as a special case of a more general phenomenon, in the case of Smelser that of
collective behaviour, in the case of Gurr that of political violence.
What I propose to do is to state, as briefly as possible, the essence of each theory;
to identify its particular virtues, defects and limitations; and to show how each
is related to the other two. I hope that such a relatively detailed study of these
three ambitious and important books will throw more light on the present state
of theory about revolution than would a more superficial survey of a more exten-
sive, but less significant, body of literature. I also hope that such a detailed critique
will throw light on some troublesome problems in the methodology of political
science. Finally, I shall try to make my critique constructive by indicating where
paths of fruitful advance in the immediate future may lie.

THREE THEORIES OF REVOLUTION

/. Revolution as Collective Behaviour
Neil Smelser's Theory of Collective Behavior4firstappeared in 1962. It represents
a landmark in the history of the sociology of revolution because it is the first
elaborate attempt to analyze the subject in the Grand Theory style of Talcott
Parsons.
Smelser's primary aim is precisely indicated by his title: to construct a theory
of collective behaviour. Revolution is a form of collective behaviour. But, in
order to understand what he has to say about revolution, we must first under-
stand four things: his basic conceptual framework, his conception of collective
behaviour, his typology of collective behaviour, and his methodology of explana-
tion.
The theory is based on a general conceptual framework of social action. This is
said to have four basic components: values, norms, mobilization of individual
motivation, situational facilities (pp. 24ff., and see also p. 9). Collective behaviour
is formally defined in terms of this schema as an uninstitutionalized mobilization
1
Neil J. Smelser, Theory of Collective Behavior (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1962).
2
Chalmers Johnson, Revolutionary Change (London: University of London Press, 1968;
first published by Little, Brown and Company, 1966).
3
Ted Robert Gurr, Why Men Rebel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970).
4
All references to page numbers in this section of the text refer to Smelser, Collective Behavior.
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 341

for action in order to modify one or more kinds of strain on the basis of a gener-
alized reconstitution of a component of action (p. 71).
Each main type of collective behaviour 'is oriented toward a distinct component
of social action'. There are five of these types: the value-oriented movement, the
norm-oriented movement, the hostile outburst, the craze and the panic (p. 9).
What of revolution ? Smelser says twice that value-oriented movements include
revolutions (pp. 2 and 313). But he is also quite emphatic that 'not all revolutions
fall into the category of value-oriented movements' (p. 318). There are 'norm-
oriented revolutions', which are 'based on grievances about specific policies,
laws or customs' (pp. 318-19). There are also other types of revolution, such as
palace revolutions, the categorization of which is unclear, although there is some
suggestion that they may be 'hostile outbursts' (pp. 318 and 332).
Next questions: what causes collective behaviour, its various forms, and
especially its revolutionary forms ?
There are six important determinants of collective behaviour: structural
conduciveness, structural strain, growth and spread of a generalized belief,
precipitating factors, mobilization, and social control (pp. 15, 16-17, 28). These
determinants are organized by the 'logic of value added'. This says that each
determinant is a necessary condition for the activation of the next one as a deter-
minant. The determinants may come into existence in any order, but they can only
become active determinants in a definite order (pp. 13-20). The sufficient condition
for collective behaviour to occur is the accumulation of each necessary condition
(p. 14).
So much for the general determinants of collective behaviour. What are the
specific determinants of revolution ? Here we face a problem of exegesis. Although
Smelser clearly considers revolution to be an important form of collective be-
haviour and often illustrates his points by reference to revolutions, he gives no
definition of the term nor any special theory of their occurrence. Both have to be
winkled out of unclear texts.
Smelser seems to mean by 'revolution' something like 'an illegal overthrow of
government' - a fairly conventional definition (pp. 227, 318-19, 367). Probably,
he holds that all revolutions involve hostile outbursts. For instance, he writes:
'Technically defined, a value-oriented revolution is a combination of a value-
oriented belief with a hostile outburst', thus appearing to equate 'revolution'
with 'hostile outburst' (p. 367). Note, however, that this definition is plainly
wrong. A hostile outburst plus a value-oriented belief may be a value-oriented
revolution, but it need not be, and is certainly not so by definition. An example of
a value-oriented hostile outburst that was not a revolution would be a fascist
race riot.
We can, therefore, reconstruct Smelser's definition of a 'revolution' as 'an
illegal overthrow of government resulting from a hostile outburst'. What, then,
causes revolution? This question breaks down into three. What causes hostile
outbursts? What causes hostile outbursts to take a revolutionary form? Under
what conditions does a revolutionary hostile outburst take a norm- or value-
oriented form ?
22
342 FREEMAN

In explaining the occurrence of hostile outbursts, Smelser makes use of the six
general determinants of collective behaviour. But, since these are determinants
of any collective behaviour, they obviously have to be made more specific to
become determinants of hostile outbursts. These more specific factors can be
classified according to their degree of generality.
First, there are the factors that only appear to be more specific than the general
determinants of collective behaviour. 'Strain' is a good example. What, Smelser
asks, 'are the strains that give rise to the hostile outburst?' (p. 241), thereby
leading us to expect an account of the strains specific to this form of collective
behaviour. But it turns out that any type of strain could lead to a hostile outburst
(p. 242). Thus, the category 'strain' in no way helps to tell us why collective behav-
iour should take the form of hostile outburst.
Second, there are the factors that are more specific than the general determi-
nants of collective behaviour, but are still too general to be interesting. Thus, of
three 'aspects' of structural conduciveness Smelser lists, one is 'the possibility of
communication among the aggrieved' (pp. 227, 240-1). But this condition is not
peculiar to hostile outbursts, being shared, for instance, by panics (p. 139).
Also, to say that 'communication' is necessary to any form of collective action
is either a tautology or a very trivial empirical proposition.
Third, there are the factors peculiar to hostile outbursts, but still very general.
An example is 'the structure of responsibility', a second aspect of structural
conduciveness. Smelser does not define this concept, but it clearly refers to those
held responsible for a situation of strain (pp. 228ff.). That some structure of
responsibility is a necessary condition for a hostile outburst seems to be a tauto-
logy, following from the definition of this form of collective behaviour. A hostile
outburst is formally defined as mobilization for action under a hostile belief
(p. 226). A hostile belief involves the identification of a person or class of persons
as responsible for the strain (p. 101). So, 'the structure of responsibility' seems to
be built into the definition of a hostile outburst.
Thus, this category does not seem very helpful in explaining why a hostile
outburst should occur, although Smelser does suggest some conditions which
may lead to responsibility being located in a definite place (pp. 228ff.). However,
'the structure of responsibility' may be useful in explaining why hostile outbursts
take one form rather than another, e.g., revolution. If revolution is a hostile out-
burst directed at the government, the category of 'the structure of responsibility'
at least suggests that one question a theory of revolution must answer is: under
what conditions is the government held responsible for social strains ?
Fourth, there are factors which are, so to speak, too specific to be general.
They are illustrations of those in my classes two and three. Thus, under the head-
ing of 'communication', Smelser writes that 'Many eruptions of mob violence
begin on hot summer Sundays at beaches, recreational resorts, taverns and public
dance halls, and on the main transportation arteries' (p. 240). No doubt they do,
but it is obvious that none of these is a necessary condition for a hostile out-
burst.
If Smelser's explanation of hostile outbursts is unsatisfactory, then we would
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 343

expect a fortiori his explanation of revolution to be so, since he is explicitly

concerned with the former and only in passing with the latter. But this is not to
say that he has nothing of interest to put forward on the subject. We have already
noticed the suggestion that a necessary condition for revolution is that the govern-
ment be blamed for the situation of strain. The other main factor which he
emphasizes is the response of the government to demands arising from strain. A
revolution is likely, all other things being equal, if it appears to be the only way
to relieve a serious strain, i.e., if there are inadequate channels for the peaceful
redress of grievances (pp. 236, 284, 286, 307, 3o8ff., 364). But, to prevent revolu-
tion, not only must there be channels, they must be seen to work, i.e., the govern-
ment must be perceived as to some extent 'responsive' (pp. 239, 365, 370). Other-
wise, only force can stop revolution (pp. 286, 308, 332, 364, 365). The best recipe
for stability, then, is responsiveness plus firmness; the best recipe for revolution
is intransigence and weakness (pp. 332, 365, 370).
This analysis is, of course, conventional wisdom (or, at least, it is conventional).
But, although Smelser is critical of those writers who make 'a vague reference to
the feebleness of the ruling classes', he himself refers only to a list of 'identifiable
signs' of the authorities' ineffectiveness. These signs include such phenomena as
financial bankruptcy and internal splits, though 'ultimately' the weakness of the
elite is revealed in its unsuccessful use of force (pp. 371-2). These terms are far
from precise and yet are too particular to be either necessary or sufficient condi-
tions of revolution. For example, 'vacillation of the government in passing reforms
and its unwillingness to live up to the reforms it passes' is a common enough
feature of stable democratic systems and, although it has no doubt characterized
some pre-revolutionary situations (e.g., the French and the Russian), it has not
characterized all (e.g., the Cuban), unless the truth of the proposition is saved by
exploiting its vagueness, thereby making it effectively immune from falsifica-
tion.
If the essence of the formula for revolution is strain + government respon-
sibility 4- intransigence + weakness, what determines whether a revolution takes
the form of a hostile outburst only (coup), a norm-oriented (reformist) revolution
or a value-oriented (radical) one? Smelser is most explicit on the differential
conditions for the first and last types. An unpopular, weak government is likely
to fall to a coup. An unpopular, strong government is likely to generate a value-
oriented movement (since, ex hypothesi, normative reform is ruled out) which will
result in revolution if the government subsequently weakens (p. 367).
He is much less clear about the conditions of a norm-oriented revolution. In
general, a norm-oriented movement will be converted into either a hostile out-
burst or a value-oriented movement, if frustrated (p. 284). If the government is
weak, a norm-oriented revolution may be the result. If it is strong, there may be a
conversion into a value-oriented revolutionary movement. Normative strains are
also likely to lead to value-oriented movements, according to Smelser, if norms
and values are closely integrated in a society (pp. 28iff., 320ff.).
We might (on the basis of Smelser) hazard the following hypotheses about the
differential conditions of the three types of revolution:
344 FREEMAN
a revolutionary coup is likely if a weak government is confronted by opponents
interested only in changing the personnel of government;
a reformist revolution is likely if a strong reformist movement is confronted by
an intransigent, but weak, government;
a radical, value-oriented revolution is likely under two conditions: (i) same as
for reformist revolution, except that the culture is one in which normative
and value issues are poorly differentiated; (2) where a reformist movement is
baulked by an intransigent and strong government, which thereby transforms
it into a value-oriented movement and which later weakens to succumb to a
value-oriented revolution.

At the outset, Smelser states his aim as being to reduce the residue of indeter-
minacy which lingers in explanations of collective behaviour (p. 1). In this, he
fails. His concepts are too vague; their conditions of applicability too uncertain.
Take 'precipitating factors'. Smelser says of these: 'A precipitating factor is an
event that creates, sharpens, or exaggerates a condition of strain or conducive-
ness' (p. 352). But if a PF can create a condition of strain, how is it distinguishable
from the category of 'strain' itself? Putting the definitions of the two terms under
a microscope, one might conclude that the PF was an event and the 'strain' one
possible result of the event. But neither the terminology nor the context supports
such a distinction. For surely a PF is not any event that creates, etc., strain, but
one that precipitates collective behaviour. This view is confirmed by the fact that
Smelser places it after structural conduciveness, strain and the growth and
spread of generalized beliefs, and just before mobilization for action, in the value-
added process. Yet, is it possible to distinguish a PF from any other kind of
strain-creating event except after the fact? Is it a necessary, or even helpful,
category at all ? Why not say that strains tend to build up until, at some point
hard to predict, a collective outburst will occur? I do not think Smelser's theory
gets us further than that.
In conclusion, he raises the question of the testability of his propositions
(pp. 385ff.). He says that a 'critical issue' for the scientific status of any proposi-
tion is its falsifiability. He suggests, as an example of a falsifying situation, one
in which a necessary condition, such as strain, was absent, but in which a collec-
tive outburst occurred (pp. 386-7). But this is pseudo-falsifiability. The idea of,
say, a revolution not preceded by 'strain' is absurd, which is to say that the pro-
position that 'strain' is a necessary condition of revolution is trivial.
Smelser's book is extremely ambitious. It has a rich empirical base (the biblio-
graphy contains some 800 items). It derives its basic categories carefully and
systematically from the fundamental conception of 'social action' as developed by
Parsons and his collaborators. The aim is determinate explanation. The logic of
explanation is thoughtfully worked out and explicated. A systematic typology is
elaborated. Differential explanations of different types of collective behaviour
are offered in terms of the basic conceptual scheme and methodology. And yet,
in the final analysis, the book is disappointing. The treatment of 'revolution',
admittedly a secondary interest of the author, is scrappy and confused. With
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 345

respect to the main themes of the book, the concepts are too wide open, the
propositions either trivial or tautologous, the 'explanations' quite indeterminate.

2. Revolution as Social System Pathology

Chalmers Johnson, in Revolutionary Change5 (first published in 1966), takes his
definition of revolution from a French work of 1908 by Arthur Bauer: 'Les
revolutions sont les changements tenths ou realises par la force dans la constitu-
tion des socie"t6s', which he interprets to mean that revolutions are social changes,
successful or unsuccessful, involving violence and concerning the principles of
distributive justice prevailing in society (p. 1).
He is most emphatic that revolutions always involve violence, although he is
quite confused as to whether this is a matter of definition or of empirical observa-
tion. However, 'many revolutions have been accomplished without any blood
flowing in the gutters or a single death being caused.' We have to understand the
sociological meaning of 'violence', which turns out (rather surprisingly) to be
'action that deliberately or unintentionally disorients the behaviour of others'
(pp. 7-8 and cf. p. 1).
This is not quite the end of his terminological and conceptual confusion. Near
the beginning of chapter five, which is plainly and boldly entitled 'Revolution',
Johnson states that he is seeking 'a theoretical formulation of the necessary and
sufficient causes of a revolution' (pp. 90-1). In chapter seven ('Varieties of
Revolution') he discloses that he had earlier been telling us 'the causes of any
insurrection' (p. 136, my italics). One variety of revolution, it seems, is revolution(!);
another is rebellion. The term 'revolution' should be confined to situations in
which 'the goal culture of an insurrectionary ideology envisions the recasting of
the social division of labour according to a pattern which is self-consciously un-
precedented in the context of a particular social system' (p. 138). Whether this is
intended to be synonymous with the original, Bauer definition is unclear. What is
clearer is that Johnson's conception of revolution has a rather strong family
resemblance to that of Smelser's value-oriented revolution. Whether 'revolution'
refers to a movement seeking change or to the change itself is not certain in either
writer; Smelser appearing to confine it to the second (i.e., the overthrow of govern-
ment) and Johnson to apply it to both. According to the latter, a revolution is a
movement seeking fundamental change, which may or may not be successful.
Johnson's basic methodological standpoint is that revolutions must be studied
in the context of the social systems in which they occur. The analysis of revolution
'intermeshes with' the analysis of viable, functioning societies. The study of
society and revolution is 'somewhat analogous' to the study of physiology and
pathology. The analogy, however, is not exact. Whereas physiology and path-
ology are 'analytically distinct investigations', the sociology of functional societies
'comes logically before' the sociology of revolution (p. 3).
The key to both the study and the conceptualization of revolution lies, then,
in social systems analysis (p. 13). We need 'a conceptual paradigm of the func-
5
All references to page numbers in this section of the text refer to Johnson, Revolutionary
Change.
346 FREEMAN

tional society'. Within such a paradigm, we can begin to isolate the forces that
combine to produce revolution (p. vi).
The primary determinant of a social system's equilibrium, says Johnson, is
the degree of 'value-environmental synchronization' (p. 64). Values are both
explanations of a social situation and standards of appropriate action (p. 21).
The environment is the 'setting' of a system of social action, 'an economic ge-
ography and the presence of other, often hostile, social systems' (p. 35). If values
and environment are dissynchronized, a threat of revolution always exists (p. 63).
Sometimes 'the environment' in this proposition is transmuted into 'the circum-
stances of environmental adaptation' or, further, into 'the division of labour'
(pp. 38-9; see also pp. 56, 58). Pressures threatening equilibrium may, therefore,
attack either values or environment, and may also be classified according to
whether they arise inside or outside the system (pp. 80-1).
'Value-environment dissynchronization' clearly plays a similar role in John-
son's schema to that of 'structural strain' in Smelser's, but it is a much vaguer
and less fully differentiated concept. It is hard to know precisely what would
count as VED. Values and the division of labour are often out of line without
there being a threat of revolution. So just what is the difference between an
equilibrated and a disequilibrated system? The distinction is very hazy, and yet
central to Johnson's explanatory schema.
When threatening pressures impinge on a social system, either homeostatic
changes (routine, institutional procedures) will maintain equilibrium or the
pressure will exceed the homeostatic capacity of the system, producing value-
environment dissynchronization and system disequilibrium (pp. 70-1). In a
situation of disequilibrium, all actors experience some personal tension, but
immediate overt responses may vary from normal, conformist behaviour through
criminality to revolution. Whether disequilibrium does lead to revolution depends
in part, on the 'modal personality' and the personalities of important people in
the system, in particular those of revolutionaries and authorities (pp. 75-80).
Another feature of the disequilibrated social system is the tendency for society
to split into 'polarized manifest interest groups' and for 'status protests' to
develop. Then, 'with the passage of time . . . persons subject to highly diverse
status protests will begin to combine with each other and with deviants generally
to form a deviant sub-cultural group or movement.' The cement that binds the
deviant movement together is ideology. 'Once persons whose latent interests have
become manifest have an ideology, however, the society will tend to polarize into
two groups: one group with an interest in maintaining the status quo and another
with an interest in and an ideology for altering the status quo' (pp. 80-1).
There are, Johnson argues, 'two clusters of mutually-influencing necessary, or
remote, causes of any revolution'. First, there are the pressures created by a
disequilibrated social system. Of all the features of such a system, the one that
contributes most directly to revolution is power deflation - 'the fact that during a
period of change the integration of a system depends increasingly upon the main-
tenance and deployment of force by the occupants of the formal authority
statuses' (pp. 91, 92).
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 347

Second, there is 'the quality of purposeful change being undertaken while a

system is disequilibrated'. The legitimate leaders must maintain the confidence of
non-deviant actors in the system and its capacity to move towards resynchroniza-
tion; otherwise a loss of authority ensues. In such a case, revolution can only be
prevented by force (pp. 57,71,91,97). This analysis is almost identical to Smelser's
discussion of'social control'.
Johnson believes that 'revolution is always avoidable if only the creative
potentialities of political organization can be realized' (a tautology? see p. viii;
cf. p. 166). The courses of action open to leaders during a 'power deflation' range
from 'conservative change' to its polar opposite, elite' intransigence'. The success-
ful implementation of the former depends primarily on two factors: (1) the elite's
knowledge of social conditions, and (2) 'its ability to determine which elements
of the value structure are indispensable to the continuity of the culture.' By this
last, rather vague, expression, he seems to mean, to translate into Smelser's
terminology, which norms must be changed to prevent the destruction of society's
fundamental values. The New Deal and the Reform Bill of 1832 are cited as
examples of successful 'conservative change'. 'Elite intransigence', he claims, is
'more often the result of its isolation than of its antisocial intentions' (pp. 94-7).
'Power deflation' and 'loss of authority' are necessary, or remote, causes of
revolution. Thefinal,or sufficient, cause is 'some ingredient, usually contributed
by fortune, which deprives the elite of its chief weapon for enforcing social
behaviour (e.g., an army mutiny), or which leads a group of revolutionaries to
believe that they have the means to deprive the elite of its weapons of coercion.'
Such causes Johnson calls accelerators. When accelerators impinge on a society
experiencing power deflation and loss of authority they 'immediately catalyze
it into insurrection'. They are also the factors which determine whether or not the
revolutionaries will win (pp. 91-2, Johnson's italics).
Superficially, Johnson's 'accelerators' may seem much the same as Smelser's
'precipitating factors'. But the similarity is much more in the terms than in the
concepts underlying them. A 'precipitating factor' is an event that aggravates a
condition of structural conduciveness or of strain. An 'accelerator' is much more
specific: it must deprive the authorities of their weapons of coercion or lead the
revolutionaries to believe that they can do so. Johnson identifies three kinds of
accelerator: (1) subversion of the armed forces; (2) a belief on the part of the
revolutionaries that they can overcome the authorities' forces; (3) operations
launched against the armed forces, as in guerrilla warfare (p. 99). The last category
is a little odd; one would have thought that it was a result of an 'accelerator' of the
first and/or second type rather than a kind of 'accelerator'. This last type seems to
confuse the 'accelerator' with the revolution itself, cause with effect.
Thus, Johnson's 'accelerators' may be equivalent to part of Smelser's 'genera-
lized beliefs' rather than to his 'precipitating factors'. This raises the question of
how one is supposed to distinguish an accelerator-belief from an ideology-belief
which is part of the 'remote' causes of revolution. It is not at all clear whether
Johnson wants us to. The accelerator-belief is said to be 'a component of the
transfer culture of a revolutionary ideology' (p. 99). Yet it remains obscure when
348 FREEMAN

such a belief is a sufficient, and when it is at best a necessary, condition of revolu-

tion.
A further problem is obviously raised by the fact that the accelerator is 'usually
contributed by fortune'. Usually! Who contributes it on the unusual occasions?
And what exactly is 'fortune' ? If what Johnson means is that there is an irreducible
indeterminacy in the explanation of revolutions, would it not be clearer to say so
and interesting to hear the arguments? 'Fortune' has a quaint old ring of Machi-
avelli about it, but it will hardly do for a sociologist who promised us 'rigour and
penetration' (p. 2).
It will be remembered that Smelser stated his intention as being to reduce the
residue of indeterminacy which lingers in explanations of collective behaviour.
Johnson's attitude to indeterminacy is a little ambiguous. On the one hand, he
says that the 'principle' which emerges from his analysis is that 'power deflation,
plus loss of authority, plus an accelerator produces revolution' (p. 105). 'Produces'
sounds rather causal, but the formula does contain the indeterminate ingredient
contributed by fortune. He also presents a diagram with little boxes linked by
arrows, running from 'Sources of Change' through 'The Disequilibrated Social
System' etc. to 'Revolutionary Insurrection'. Are the arrows causal? There is
surely some kind of convention in social science that they are in such figures.
However, running horizontally along the bottom of the diagram is a long arrow
labelled 'Time', thereby carrying some suggestion that the boxes are linked by
temporal sequence rather than by causation.
More explicitly, Johnson tells us that it is 'intrinsically impossible to construct
a statistical measure that will predict the occurrence of a revolution' (p. 119).
And he quotes with approval a remark of W. G. Runciman to the effect that the
proper function of social science is not prediction but diagnosis. But the reason
Runciman gives for this is not the caprices of fortune, but the fact that the predic-
tions of social science may be self-defeating, in that the predictees may deliberately
falsify the prediction made about them. Nor is Runciman's medical metaphor of
'diagnosis', which Johnson adopts, very satisfactory. The importance of diagnosis
in medicine does not rule out the possibility of precise explanations nor even
deterministic predictions. I do not wish to delve into the question of determinism
here, but simply note that neither Johnson's 'Fortune' nor his misquoted medical
metaphor are satisfactory ways of handling the problem.
3. Revolution as Collective Violence
The first problem we meet in Ted Robert Gurr's Why Men Rebel6 is raised by the
title itself. This leads us to expect a theory of rebellion. So, too, do the opening
sentences:
Do we really know so little about the causes of riot and rebellion that we must invoke
contemporary exorcisms like 'aggressive instincts' or 'conspiracy' to explain them?
I think not. Men have rebelled against their rulers for millenia, and during those millenia
many perceptive observers have offered careful explanations of why they did so, in
particular instances and in general.
6
All references to page numbers in this section of the text refer to Gurr, Why Men Rebel.
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 349

Both title and opening are deceptive. The central concept of Why Men Rebel is
not 'rebellion', but 'political violence'. In Gurr's own words: 'this study is an
attempt to analyze, and develop testable general hypotheses about, three aspects
of political violence: its sources, magnitude, and forms' (p. 3).
But the allusions to rebellion are more than minor slips,. The whole book is
pervaded by an ambiguity as to whether it is chiefly about rebellion or violence.
The contagion of this ambiguity is carried mainly by the formal definition of
'political violence', which refers to 'all collective attacks within a political com-
munity against the political regime, its actors - including competing political
groups as well as incumbents - or its policies' (pp. 3-4). The definition is far from
clear. What exactly is meant by 'competing political groups' ? Does 'political
violence' include attacks by the government and/or its supporters on its rivals ?
The ordinary meanings of the words used in the definition (and, indeed, the ordi-
nary meaning of 'political violence') rather suggest that it does. But the way Gurr
uses the concept throughout the book, together with the title, suggest strongly
that 'political violence' is confined to violent rebellion.
Why choose 'political violence' as the focal concept rather than, say, 'rebellion'
or 'revolution' ? Gurr gives several reasons, of which two are especially interesting.
The first of these is that political violence is said to be theoretically important,
both because it challenges the monopoly of force 'imputed to the state in political
theory', and because it is likely to interfere with, or even destroy, 'normal political
processes' (p. 4). But this is as much an argument for making 'rebellion' or 'rev-
olution' the basic concept as for preferring 'political violence'.
The second reason of particular interest to us for choosing 'political violence'
is that (Gurr says) the different forms of political violence, such as riots and
revolutions, have similar causes (p. 5). His claim here is that revolutions and
kindred phenomena are but special cases of political violence, and that a theory of
the latter would thus be more general than a theory of any of the former. This is,
prima facie, a good reason, but we must see, by examining his theory, whether
this strategy of going for the more general level of analysis turns out to be fruitful.
At this point, it is worth noting that political violence is not the only thing that
revolution is a special case of. 'Collective behaviour' is, of course, another. It
would not be hard to think of many more.
Political violence, Gurr suggests, poses two fundamental questions: 'From
what sources and by what processes does it arise, and how does it affect the
political and social order?' (p. 7). Strangely, he does not try to answer these
questions. His dependent variables do not include 'political violence', but consist
of the magnitude and the forms of political violence.
Gurr writes that 'the primary causal sequence in political violence' is 'first the
development of discontent, second the politicization of that discontent, and
finally its actualization in violent action against political objects and actors'
(pp. 12-13). This is clear enough, but unfortunately it does not describe his own
model. This is built around four 'primary objects of analysis': the potential for
collective violence (PCV), the potential for political violence (PPV), the magni-
tude of political violence (MPV) and the forms of political violence (FPV) (p. 8).
350 FREEMAN

The first two of these are treated as both independent and dependent variables;
the last two as dependent variables only.
The magnitude of political violence is determined by the potential for political
violence and two secondary variables: the balance of dissident to regime coercive
control and the balance of dissident to regime institutional support. Similarly,
the potential for political violence is determined by the potential for collective
violence and a small batch of secondary variables: the scope and intensity of
normative and utilitarian justifications for political violence. And the potential
for collective violence is determined by two secondary variables: the scope and
intensity of relative deprivation. Thus, the three primary variables - PCV, PPV,
MPV (FPV is treated separately) - are arranged in a causal sequence. Each is
determined by (i) the immediately preceding primary variable (except PCV,
which has none), and (2) a small number of secondary variables.
Most secondary variables are determined by a number of tertiary variables,
which add considerably to the total number of variables in the model. For instance,
in connection with the magnitude of political violence, the two secondary variables
concerning coercive control and institutional support are determined by a total
of sixteen tertiary variables. The complete model containsfifty-oneexplanatory
variables. Since this is rather complex, Gurr proposes a simplified version. But
this, he admits, is less accurate and it is not all that simple: the complete simplified
model uses eighteen variables to explain the magnitude of political violence.
In addition, Gurr proposes a number of variables increasing the probability of
each of three forms of political violence: turmoil, conspiracy and internal war.
Why Men Rebel is in some respects a most impressive book. Gurr covers a great
deal of literature, ranging from laboratory experiments in psychology to case
studies of great revolutions. He has synthesized this material in a single, reasonably
coherent model, with formal definitions of his key concepts and formal hypotheses
setting out the relationships between his variables. He considers the relationships
between hypotheses and pays attention to such basic methodological problems as
falsifiability, operationalization and parsimony.
That there are defects in details is only to be expected in a work as ambitious
as this. But some of the problems the book raises are more serious. Perhaps the
most worrying is Gurr's choice of dependent variables. His switch from a con-
sideration of the causes and consequences of political violence to that of its
magnitude and forms is never convincingly justified. It might be said that MPV
(though not FPV) is a useful concept because it is well suited to statistical treat-
ment. But this is a weak argument when confronted with Gurr's own emphasis on
the importance for political theory of identifying the sources of political violence
and its effects on the political and social order.
It might also be said that the magnitude of political violence is morally signifi-
cant. It may well be so, and one suspects that this was part of Gurr's motivation
for choosing it. But he can hardly make much of this particular argument in view
of his strenuous efforts to conform to the orthodox norms of value-free social
science. And from the latter standpoint, it may be said that the emphasis on the
magnitude of political violence conceals the fact that rebellions with little violence
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 351

may have great effects on a social system, while rebellions with great violence may
have little effect. One misses, in Gurr's model, Smelser's distinction between
norm- and value-oriented movements.
Finally, Gurr's approach might be defended on the ground that, since one
possible value of MPV is zero, his model can be used to explain why violence
does or does not occur at all. Perhaps it can. But Gurr himself is clearly not
interested in using it in this way. None of his hypotheses specifies the conditions
for political violence occurring at all, while the correlates of MPV are given
considerable attention
Gurr does, as I have already mentioned, distinguish three forms of political
violence: turmoil, conspiracy and internal war. He gives three justifications for
his classification: (1) the empirical evidence shows that they tend to occur sep-
arately among nations; (2) they have different effects on political systems; (3)
they have different causes (p. 334).
As to thefirstjustification, it is contradicted by a passage occurring only a few
pages later:
The differences among the forms are of degree - of organization and scale - not kind, as
pointed out above. Moreover there are relatively few societal situations in which all the
conditions specified for a particular form of violence hold. Mixed patterns are likely to
characterize a given society at any given point in time. Insofar as those conditions vary over
time, the probabilities of occurrence of a particular form of political violence can
change (p. 343, my italics).

Gurr's second justification for his tripartite classification is that his three forms
of violence have different effects on the political system. He does not claim
empirical backing for this assertion and it is both conceptually and empirically
questionable. Conceptually, it is difficult to decide what is to count as an 'effect'
of political violence: e.g., was the Dreyfus Affair an 'effect' of the French Revolu-
tion? 'Different' also raises conceptual problems. Have the Chinese and Cuban
revolutions had different or the same effects ? It obviously depends on what is to
count as a 'difference'.
Empirically, this argument is dubious, too. By Gurr's definitions, the February
1917, Revolution in Russia was a turmoil, the Cuban Revolution was a con-
spiracy, and the Chinese Revolution an internal war. Yet all could be said to have
had the same effect in that they (a) overthrew a social system, and (b) helped to
establish a socialist form of society.
The third justification - that the three types of political violence have different
causes - may be valid, but many typologies could be justified on this ground, one
obvious alternative being Smelser's forms of collective behaviour.
Thus, the case for Gurr's choice of dependent variables is not very strong.
Doubts may also be cast on his decision to take 'political violence' as his basic
concept. It will be remembered that the most plausible argument in favour of
doing so was that, 'violence' being a more general concept than, say, 'revolution',
a theory of violence would subsume, and therefore be more powerful than, a
theory of revolution.
352 FREEMAN

But, apart from the fact that Gurr does not give us a theory of violence (i.e.,
an explanation of why men take to violence), his account of the relationship
between political violence and revolution is confused. He tells us that 'political
violence' subsumes 'revolution', which, he says, is 'ordinarily defined as funda-
mental sociopolitical change accomplished through violence' (pp. 3-4). (Does
Gurr define 'revolution' thus ? What does he mean by 'ordinarily' ? What is the
evidence for this assertion?) But, he goes on, 'political violence' also includes
guerrilla wars, coups d'etat, rebellions, and riots. This implies that revolution is
different from, among other things, guerrilla war, which is strange and un-
explained.
At times, Gurr seems to consider revolution to be, not simply a form of political
violence, but a form of 'internal war', which is itself a form of political violence.
Internal war is said to include 'large-scale terrorism and guerrilla wars, civil wars,
and revolutions' (p. 11). But elsewhere he suggests that revolutions can occur
without 'full-fledged revolutionary organizations or even revolutionary motives'
(p. 261), which implies that not all revolutions are internal wars, for the latter are,
by definition, 'highly organized' and 'designed to overthrow the regime or dissolve
the state' (p. n ) . Support for this view can be drawn from the fact that the defin-
itions of turmoil and conspiracy do not rule out revolutions (p. 11). I have already
mentioned that the Russian Revolution of February 1917 was largely a turmoil,
and the Cuban Revolution a conspiracy.
In sum, Gurr's conception of revolution is unclear. It is also not clear whether
or not he wishes to conform to ordinary usage of the term. No coherent account is
given of the relationship between revolution and political violence or its forms.
For these reasons he cannot justify switching our attention from revolution to
political violence on the ground that he permits us to derive a special theory of
revolution from his more general theory of political violence. And the fact that
he fails in this is not merely due to a carelessness that might easily be remedied.
Despite Gurr's casual assumption that it does, revolution does not fit neatly
into his schema at all. Since some important revolutions involve little violence, it
would seem better to make the relationship between revolution and violence a
matter for empirical discovery, not definition. And, for the understanding of
events such as those that took place in France in 1789 and the years immediately
following, the old-fashioned concept 'revolution' does better service than
'political violence', 'internal war', 'conspiracy' or 'turmoil'.
Thus, we cannot derive a theory of revolution directly from Gurr's model of
political violence. We must next see whether he provides us with useful materials,
in the form of concepts and hypotheses, for the construction of such a theory.
There is at least a prima facie case for believing that he does. For the second
primary dependent variable in his causal chain is the potential'for political violence,
which does not seem very distant from revolution. If Gurr has a good theory of
PPV, he may have an important part of a good theory of revolution.
The potential for political violence is defined as 'a focused disposition to use or
threaten violence against political actors who are held responsible, by their errors
of commission or omission, for depriving conditions' (p. 319). This definition is
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 353

not harmonious with that of 'political violence' itself. The latter refers to collec-
tive attacks on the political regime, its actors (including the mysterious 'competing
groups') or its policies. PPV involves a disposition to use or threaten violence
against any political actors held responsible for people's woes. Once again, there
is uncertainty as to whether political violence is confined to rebellion or not.
Gurr's penchant for using 'potentials' or 'dispositions' as major variables (as
in 'the potential for collective violence' and 'the potential for political violence')
is awkward, because 'potentials', if they can be said to be existent entities at all,
are obviously latent and must be observed indirectly through some overt indi-
cator. If we were forced to use such concepts we would have to put up with the
attendant problems, but Gurr himself shows that we are not forced to. In the
'primary causal sequence', which he adumbrates but makes no use of, the second
stage is the politicization of discontent. Politicized discontent is a more useful
concept than the potential for political violence, both because its existence is
less ghost-like and because it emphasizes that the two critical questions to be
answered by a theory of revolution are (1) what directs people's discontent onto
the government and/or the power-holders of society, i.e., what politicizes dis-
content? and (2) what makes people take revolutionary rather than non-revolu-
tionary action to redress their grievances, i.e., what revolutionizes discontent?
The potential for political violence is determined by the potential for collective
violence and the scope and intensity of normative and utilitarian justifications
for political violence (p. 320). That is, what converts a general disposition to
violence into a disposition to political violence is the belief that the latter will
bring benefits and is morally justified. This may seem fairly obvious, but it is
worth emphasizing. Those who are puzzled as to why the oppressed are often so
slow to rebel sometimes forget that rebellion may not be justified by a rational
cost-benefit calculation. What is odd about this part of Gurr's model is that he
suggests no relationship between the balance of regime and dissident forces and
utilitarian justifications for political violence. The relative strength of you and
your opponent must be an important factor in any rational calculation of the
utility of revolution or political violence.
Gurr specifies the relationship between PPV and PCV in the following formal
hypothesis: the potential for specifically political violence varies strongly with
the potential for collective violence generally (p. 360, hypothesis V.4). PCV is,
therefore, an important determinant of PPV. What, then, is PCV ? It is defined as
'the scope and intensity of the disposition among members of a collectivity to take
violent action against others' (p. 29). It is said to varyjointly with the intensity of
discontent and the proportion of the members of a collectivity who are intensely
discontented (p. 319). Whatis 'discontent' ? Gurr says it is 'a disposition to aggres-
sive action' (p. 319). But PCV is described as a 'diffuse disposition toward aggres-
sive action' (p. 319), so that it is not clear whether PCV varies, or is synonymous,
with discontent. In his summary diagram of the determinants of MPV, Gurr has
a box labelled 'Potential for Collective Violence (Discontent)' (p. 320), thereby
giving further support for the view that they are synonyms. If they are, is not
'discontent' a clearer concept than the potential for collective violence?
354 FREEMAN

This textual analysis is supported by common usage. It is more natural to say

that a large number of very discontented people constitute a potential for collec-
tive violence than to say that they lead to it.
Gurr deals with this objection explicitly, if rather uneasily (pp. 29-30). He
meets it with the argument that PCV can be measured independently, for instance,
by asking people whether they are prepared to participate in a riot. But such a
question would tap their willingness to engage in violence rather than merely
their potential for it. And willingness would involve beliefs about the utility and
justification for violence, which Gurr introduces into his model at a later stage.
At no point does he make a convincing case for treating PCV as a separate
variable from discontent.
The hypothesis that PCV varies with the intensity of discontent and the scope
of intense discontent is given, in the text, the number V. 1. In an appendix present-
ing a summary list of hypotheses, the hypothesis numbered V.I reads rather
differently: the potential for collective violence varies strongly with the intensity
and scope of relative deprivation (RD) among members of a collectivity (p. 360).
This suggests that RD is a synonym for 'discontent'. But no: discontent arises
from 'the perception of relative deprivation' (p. 13). Once again, there is confusion
as to whether two terms are synonymous or stand for co-varying phenomena.
In the diagram summarizing the determinants of PCV, 'discontent' does not
appear at all (p. 324). The immediate determinants of PCV are the intensity and
scope of RD. This accords with the summary list of hypotheses in the appendix
and may accordingly be taken as what Gurr really intends. What, then, is RD?
It is 'a perceived discrepancy between men's value expectations and their value
capabilities' (p. 13). Gurr usually defines 'value expectations' as what people
think they are entitled to (p. 27, Gurr's italics). He explicitly distinguishes RD
from concepts that make use of 'want/get' formulations without referring to the
justifiability of value expectations (p. 40). Yet value expectations are on several
occasions identified, not with what people think they are entitled to, but with
what they want (pp. 21, 45, 359).
In addition to PCV, discontent and RD, Gurr introduces yet another theoretical
device to explain the psychological origins of violence: this is the 'frustration-
aggression mechanism', which he describes as 'the primary source of the human
capacity for violence' (p. 36). The 'basic frustration-aggression' proposition that
the greater the frustration the greater the aggression 'provides the motivational
base' for the proposition that the greater the intensity of deprivation the greater
the magnitude of violence (p. 9). It is not clear what Gurr means by saying that
the F-A proposition provides a 'base' for the RD-MPV proposition. And why
does a model or a proposition including RD stand in need of a motivational base ?
Neither frustration nor aggression appear in Gurr's diagrammatic summaries
of his model. What, then, is their relationship to the model? At one point he tells
us that frustration is 'loosely' a synonym for RD (p. 21). But the relationship
between 'aggression' and the concepts of the model is never made clear.
Thus, not only is Gurr's model not well adapted to the study of revolution, its
basic concepts are too confused to serve well as the building materials for such a
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 355

study. Nor is it impressive on the scores of either elegance or power. On the first
count, Gurr himself is openly uneasy about its complexity and unwieldiness. On
the second, the book does at times remind one of the mountain heaving and
striving to give birth to a mouse. Occasionally, the mouse is not only very small,
it is positively tautological, e.g.: 'The potential for collective violence varies
strongly with the intensity and scope of relative deprivation' (p. 360).
Despite all its faults, Gurr's book is the most systematic and comprehensive
we have in itsfield.Because of its faults, we must conclude that we do not yet have
a convincing theoretical treatment of revolution.

CONCLUSIONS
All three books analysed in this article are attempts to construct a general
theory of, or applicable to, revolution, by a systematic synthesis of a vast body
of literature, wholly or partly about revolution. Each book is, to a considerable
extent, erudite, careful and sophisticated. Each is, to a considerable extent, a
failure. Why?
All three books are, in some important sense, 'about' revolution, but they
differ greatly in their aims and methods. Smelser is after a determinate theory of
'collective behaviour'; Johnson wants a causal theory of revolution (or does he ?);
what Gurr wants is not at all clear: a theory of rebellion? a theory of political
violence? correlates of the magnitude of political violence?
As their aims vary, so do their basic frameworks and the logical structures of
their theories. Smelser's theory is based on Parsons' concept of social action and
the 'logic of value-added'. Johnson's is based on the Parsonian concept of the
equilibrated social system and on forces that tend to disrupt, maintain or restore
equilibrium. His logic is rather confused. He says that he is seeking the'necessary
and sufficient causes' of revolution, and yet the factors that enter into his theory
seem to be related to each other either causally or by temporal succession. Also,
since the 'sufficient' cause of revolution is 'usually' contributed by Fortune, it is,
to say the least, dubious whether the whole amounts to a truly causal theory.
Gurr's basic theory appears ('appears' because his account is unclear at this point)
to be based on that of frustration-aggression and its logic is one of cumulative
causation, very similar to that of Smelser's logic of value-added. A major ambi-
guity in Gurr's model is that between causation and co-variance. The summary
diagrams talk of 'determinants' and 'causal relationships', while the summary
hypotheses talk of 'determinants' in all cases except that of the relationships
among primary and secondary variables, which are coyly called 'linkages' and
are in fact correlations.
Similarly, the books vary in their conceptualization and treatment of revolu-
tion. It is worth re-emphasizing that all three, despite their differences, regard
revolution as an important part of their subject-matter. Gurr's definition of
revolution is confused. Smelser's is never made explicit, although a reasonable
definition and classification of revolutions can be reconstructed from materials
with which he provides us. Johnson, who is the only one of the three solely con-
356 FREEMAN

cerned with revolution, does offer an explicit definition, but goes on to confuse
us, first, by building into it a most peculiar definition of 'violence', and, second,
by a bewildering shuffling of the terms 'revolution', 'rebellion' and 'insurrection',
which leaves the meaning of each uncertain.
An important question arises at this point: despite the differences between the
theories and the confusions within them, does some consensus lie buried as to the
constituents of a theory of revolution ? It would be most surprising if, given that
we are dealing with three scholars who have pretty thoroughly combed through
the literature and tried to put it together in a single theoretical synthesis, the
answer were not 'yes'. And, to some considerable extent, 'yes' it is. The reader of
these three books could himself, with some care and effort, if not synthesize the
syntheses (for their differences would defeat any simple or direct attempt to do
this), then find some important common elements. Each contains a basic 'fed up'
concept ('structural strain', 'value-environment dissynchronization', 'relative
deprivation': whether these rather unlovely concepts add much, or anything, in
the way of clarity and precision, to some plainer concept, such as 'discontent', is
debatable). Each has some notion that the government must be blamed for the
condition that is making people fed up. 'Elite intransigence' and 'elite weakness'
can be discerned in all three theories. None of these concepts is very remarkable.
What is remarkable is that revolution continues to puzzle non-academic politi-
cians, and that academics have not yet produced a very satisfactory theory of
revolution, although it would be quite unfair to suggest that no progress has been
made towards this goal.
Each of our three books has merits. Smelser's suggestion, admittedly only
implicit, that revolutions can be value-oriented, norm-oriented or hostile out-
bursts is useful, in that many people (including Smelser) tend to think of revolu-
tions as being only of the first type. Gurr's very detailed model is, despite its
several defects, helpful in a number of ways. To give just one illustrative example:
his category of'utilitarian justifications of political violence' is a reminder, which
many writers on revolution badly need, that a rational calculation of the costs and
benefits of revolution may come out negative even for badly oppressed people.
Ifindleast of value in Johnson, although his discussion of the important question
of what makes the armed forces loyal or disloyal to the existing regime is interest-
ing.
Each book, despite its merits both of procedure and of substance, is very un-
satisfactory. Detailed criticisms have been made in the main body of the article.
To generalize: each work is at too many crucial points vague, muddled, and trivial
or even tautological. Let me reinforce this point with just one illustration from
each writer. Smelser seems to believe that the hypothesis that strain is a neces-
sary condition for collective behaviour is a significant one. Johnson tells us, as if
he were imparting some important information, that the primary determinant of
a social system's equilibrium is the degree of value-environment synchronization.
Gurr's hypothesis that the potential for collective violence varies strongly with
the intensity and scope of relative deprivation among members of a collectivity
is something less than a brilliant new insight.
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 357

If such weighty scholarship has produced such trivial results, we must ask why.
Two possible answers suggest themselves: (1) the venture was essentially mis-
conceived; (2) the venture was poorly executed. I suggest that some truth may lie
in both. The idea of 'general theory' sounds highly attractive to some: it has a ring
of grandeur about it; it involves both massive reading and difficult synthesis;
thus it appears intellectually important. But the products of Grand Theory have
a tendency to be very disappointing. Whether this is unavoidable or simply so
far unavoided I should not dare to say, but, however that may be, I am sure that a
satisfactory theory of revolution can only be produced by someone with a sharper
philosophical mind and a finer historical sensibility than appears in these books.
On the first score, a theory of revolution must be able to recognize, and eliminate,
both tautologies and trivialities. On the second, the theory must be able to illu-
minate in some ways real, empirical revolutions. If I wish to understand what we
usually refer to as the 'French Revolution' of 1789-99, I get remarkably little
help from these three books.
What, then, is to be done ? I have, of course, no panacea to offer. I can only
outline, extremely sketchily, some possible routes for the future and what we have
reason to expect from them.
First of all, we must ask what we want from a theory of revolution. All three
of our writers wrongly assumed that the answer to this question was easy. Pick a
significant phenomenon (collective behaviour, revolution, political violence) and
'explain' it. That this approach is too simple can be quite easily shown in a number
of ways. For example, Gurr says that political violence poses two fundamental
questions: what causes it and how does it affect the political and social order?
But his 'theory of political violence' never begins to answer the second of these
questions. For a second example: two of our three theorists were strongly
influenced by the work of Talcott Parsons. It is, therefore, a little surprising that
neither of them followed up Parsons' own brief discussion of revolution in The
Social System, which is divided into two parts: (1) how revolutionary movements
come to power; (2) what happens to them when they get there.7 For a third
example, a famous book on revolution, Crane Brinton's The Anatomy of Revolu-
tion, methodologically primitive to be sure, contains headings such as 'Pervasive-
ness of Terror' and 'Universality of Thermidorean Reaction', scarcely dreamt of
in the philosophy of Smelser, Johnson and Gurr. 8
There are thus many, many important questions that can be asked about
revolutions other than simply, 'What causes them?' One favourite set of my own
concerns the role of intellectuals in revolutions. What turns an intellectual into a
revolutionary? Can one generalize significantly about the kinds of goals intel-
lectual revolutionaries have and how these differ from those of non-intellectuals?
What kinds of relationships do intellectuals tend to have with 'masses' ? How do
the answers to these questions affect the course and outcome of revolutions (do
intellectuals 'betray' the masses, or vice versa, or what?).
7
Talcott Parsons, The Social System (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1951), pp. 520-33.
8
Crane Brinton, The Anatomy of Revolution (New York: Vintage Books, 1965, revised and
expanded edition;firstpublished in 1938).
23
358 FREEMAN

Whatever one wants from a theory of revolution, there are at least three alterna-
tive approaches to those considered in this article that might hold some promise:
(i) that of formal, 'economic' theory; (2) the long-term historical approach
characterized by Barrington Moore's The Social Origins of Dictatorship and
Democracy; (3) Marxism. I believe each of these approaches has something
important to contribute, but none does all one might reasonably want a theory of
revolution to do. Formal theories are (virtually by definition) characterized by
logical rigour and often provide acute particular insights.9 But, to my knowledge,
none has come near to providing a satisfactory general theory of revolution, and
my own private attempts to construct one have always run into the familiar
problem that, if a reasonable degree of realism is to be preserved, non-'economic'
factors have to be brought in and, as they enter, rigour slips out at the back door.
Barrington Moore's history-in-depth approach is certainly interesting and has
some strong appeal to those who want to understand real revolutions. For
example, I do not believe that one can explain the French Revolution of 1789
without bringing into consideration Louis XIV's relations with his nobility a
century earlier. However, in addition to logical and perhaps empirical deficiencies
his book exhibits, Moore provides little in the way of generalization about revolu-
tion. Finally, as to Marxism, it is open to serious objection on both conceptual
and empirical grounds, and yet, it should be emphasized, still provides a rich
mine of insights, especially in the analysis of the role of'class' and 'revolutionary
consciousness' in revolutions. It is an intellectual scandal that, in their huge
bibliographies, Smelser includes not a single work by Marx, and Gurr only one
minor work, Revolution and Counter-Revolution.
So much for possible alternative 'approaches'? What about strategies? I can
think of three. The first is to treat one or more of the works discussed here as
'paradigms' and proceed by tidying them up conceptually and logically, and by
testing them empirically. The second is by abandoning, at least for the present, the
goal of general theory, and cutting out a more manageable piece of the subject.
This could be done in either of two ways, thus yielding strategies two and three.
The first is to develop a scientifically fruitful classification of revolutions, in the
hope that more significant generalizations can be made about certain types of
revolution than about revolution in general. One obvious classification is
between independence movements and class revolutions. Other, more sophisti-
cated ones may be necessary/desirable. The other way of cutting down the
subject is to ask more particular questions about revolution in general. My set
about the role of intellectuals in revolution is an example.
Despite the great quantity, and not inconsiderable quality, of work done on
revolutions in recent years, the present state of theory is sufficiently weak that it
would be wrong to point dogmatically to one approach as the royal road to future
success. Theoretical and methodological pluralism is essential. But the dangers of
theoretical and methodological anarchy must also be borne in mind. Much work
at a less general level than that of our three synthetic works needs to be done. But
9
See, for example, Mancur Olson Jr., The Logic of Collective Action (New York: Schocken
Books, 1968).
 Review Article: Theories of Revolution 359

we must continue to look for ways in which particular pieces of such work relate
to each other. In this, 'general theory', either of the kind considered here or other
kinds, may have a part to play. In the study of revolution, as in social science
generally, there is still cause to complain of too great a gap between Grand
Theory and Abstracted Empiricism.
One final point: the most important, and one of the most difficult, of all. Any
good theory of revolution must include a clear conception of revolution. Platitude ?
Of course. Yet few existing theories of revolution do meet this elementary require-
ment. Nor is it at all easy to say what a revolution is. How many revolutions took
place in France between 1789 and 1799? A plausible case can be made for any
number between o and 9.10
10
I should like to acknowledge my debt to those students at the University of Essex with whom
I have studied the theory of revolution and whose ideas have greatly stimulated my own. I
should like particularly to mention a paper written by Peter Morriss on Gurr, which crystallized
my view that what was most troubling about such works as those reviewed here was their
vacuity. This paper may be said to have stood as a precipitating factor for the present article,
in that it was an event, creating, sharpening or exaggerating a condition of strain I had experi-
enced in studying these books. It was also something of an accelerator in that it led me to believe
that the forces of the authorities could be overcome. It was, however, not contributed by Fortune,
but, as I have said, by Mr Morriss.