Explore "The Bolshevik Myth" by Alexander Berkman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Since my early youth, revolution -- social revolution -- was the great hope and aim of my life. It signified to me the Messiah who was to deliver the world from brutality, injustice, and evil, and pave the way for a regenerated humanity of brotherhood, living in peace, liberty, and beauty.
Without exaggeration I may say that the happiest day of my existence was passed in a prison cell -- the day when the first news of the October Revolution and the victory of the Bolsheviki reached me in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary. The night of my dungeon was illumined by the glory of the great dream coming true. The bars of steel melted away, the stone walls receded, and I trod on the golden fleece of the Ideal about to be realised. Then followed weeks and months of trepidation, and I lived in a ferment of hope and fear -- fear lest reaction overwhelm the Revolution, hope of reaching the land of promise.