By Dr. Adnan Bouzan

Introduction:

When we contemplate the intellectual history of the twentieth century, we see before us not merely a conflict between political ideologies, but between two existential conceptions of the human being: one that perceives man as a historical entity, bearing within himself the capacity to transform the world according to his principles; and another that views him as an experimental being, seeking not absolute truth but practical benefit. In the first, Bolshevism was born; in the second, Pragmatism grew. The struggle between them is not merely a disagreement about society, but a dispute over the very meaning of truth and the essence of human nature itself: Is man the child of principle or the child of utility? Does he strive to build a world upon justice, or to tame it in order to survive within it?

Bolshevism, when it emerged from the womb of the Russian Revolution, was not merely a theory of economics and politics, but a philosophical call directed toward the essence of man himself. It was a rejection of reality as it is, a rebellion against history when it becomes an instrument of oppression, and a belief that justice is not a dream but a right to be seized through blood and will. The Bolshevik was not, at his core, a soldier of the party, but a being who believed that principle is nobler than interest, and that man is not measured by what he possesses but by what he sacrifices for the sake of what he deems just. Thus, Bolshevism became the loud voice of the historical conscience, a cry against the utilitarianism that turned man into a cog in the machine of production.

Pragmatism, on the other hand, is the offspring of modern American experience, born from a changing reality that acknowledges no absolutes, and from a mind that measures ideas not by their theoretical validity but by their practical consequences. The pragmatist does not ask, “Is this true in itself?” but rather, “Is this useful?” For he believes that truth is not a fixed essence in the heavens, but an action formed upon the earth — and that an idea which yields no benefit is nothing but mental noise. Man, in the pragmatist view, is not an ideal being searching for perfection, but a practical being striving for success in a fluctuating world. Pragmatism, therefore, represents humanity’s instinct for survival, its refusal of stagnation, and its ability to adapt to the perpetual transformations of reality.

Yet what makes the struggle between Bolshevism and Pragmatism profound lies not only in the difference of principles and methods, but in their existential vision of humanity itself. While Bolshevism believes that man fulfills his essence by rising against injustice and reshaping history through his will, Pragmatism holds that man fulfills himself when he learns to reconcile with the conditions of his existence and transform them into opportunities. The former sees existence as a battlefield of struggle; the latter sees it as a laboratory of experience. The former regards truth as an end attained through sacrifice; the latter sees it as a tool employed for progress. It is as though Bolshevism represents man’s moral conscience, while Pragmatism embodies his practical awareness.

Between these two opposing poles, modern man stands in bewilderment: Does he belong to the dream or to reality? To revolution or to reform? To principle or to utility? The distance between Bolshevism and Pragmatism has become the very distance between man as he ought to be and man as he is. Indeed, history itself — with all its conflicts, wars, and transformations — can be read as the grand stage of this eternal dialectic between those who dream of the absolute and those who are content with the result.

This study, therefore, does not seek to condemn either side, but to deconstruct the philosophical meaning of the conflict between them: Is principle, in its essence, the negation of utility? Is utility the negation of principle? Or does man, in the depth of his being, require both in order to be complete? This research is a journey into the depths of human thought — an inquiry into how consciousness is shaped between ideal and reality, between revolution and reason, between the man who dreams of a more just world and the man who accepts a more practical one.

Thus, we begin with the question that seems simple yet bears the weight of history:
When man chooses between principle and utility — which of them redeems his humanity, and which destroys it?

The Difference Between Bolshevism and Pragmatism

The difference between Bolshevism and Pragmatism is not merely a divergence in political methods or intellectual schools—it is an ontological rift in how man perceives himself and existence. Each represents an opposing pole of the same human spirit: the eternal spirit of questioning — What is truth? and What is the purpose of thought and action? Is it purpose for its own sake, or the utility it yields?

In Bolshevism, thought is born from the womb of principle; in Pragmatism, principle is born from the womb of utility. The former believes that the world changes only when the essence of the relations governing it changes, while the latter holds that the world is understood only through the shifting experience of it. Between the two, man stands torn—between his moral commitment to what ought to be and his pragmatic surrender to what is.

Bolshevism is the child of revolution. It believes that man is a historical being governed by the conflict between the forces of production and the relations of production, and that his consciousness is inseparable from the material conditions of his existence. For the Bolshevik, truth is neither opinion nor probability—it is an objective reflection of reality as it is, a reality that can be understood and transformed through science and revolutionary action. Hence arises the Bolshevik certainty that justice is not merely an ethical idea, but a necessity born of the inevitability of historical development; that the contradiction between oppressor and oppressed is the essence of social existence; and that revolution is the highest moment of historical consciousness—where collective reason triumphs over alienation, and humanity fulfills itself through liberation from exploitation.

The Bolshevik does not see thought as a tool of utility, but as a call to sacrifice. He perceives man not as an adaptive experimental being, but as a historical actor bearing within his consciousness the power to change the course of the world. He is one who lives for principle even if he starves, and believes in truth even if it costs him his life. He seeks not success but righteousness—for success in an unjust world means nothing if it is not founded on justice. Thus, action in Bolshevism is a moral commitment before being a practical means—it is the embodiment of revolutionary consciousness that views history as governed by an unbreakable law: the law of class struggle. From this law arises the necessity of change, not as a choice but as an inescapable destiny.

Pragmatism, on the other hand, is the complete antithesis of this vision. It regards thought not as a weapon of transformation but as an instrument of experience. It believes neither in absolutes nor in determinism. Truth, to the pragmatist, is not that which corresponds to material reality, but that which works in practical life. It is the philosophy of experiment, utility, and adaptability—a philosophy that claims thought has no value unless it yields a result, and that man is known not by his class or his history but by his capacity for effective action in the present. Truth, in the pragmatist view, is an unfinished process—changing with circumstances and needs. What was true yesterday may be false today if its utility has changed.

It is the philosophy of the experimental man who does not seek salvation in revolution but in adaptation; who does not ask, What ought to be? but rather, What works now? It is the philosophy of the individual rather than the collective, of success rather than justice, of experience rather than history. Hence, it represents the rational face of the modern capitalist world, where the measure of all things is the outcome, and values are weighed by the benefits they produce rather than the truths they embody.

Bolshevism belongs to the spirit of principle, while Pragmatism belongs to the spirit of utility. The former believes that action must reflect a transcendent historical consciousness; the latter believes action has meaning only within its immediate effect. The one holds that man makes history; the other, that man makes his experience. The one believes truth is discovered; the other, that truth is invented. The one seeks liberation from material necessity; the other seeks to improve its conditions without breaking them. The one proclaims revolution as the path to salvation; the other advocates reform as a gradual, never-ending experiment. The one exalts principle above benefit—even if all is lost; the other exalts benefit above principle—even if truth is lost.

From a deeper philosophical perspective, Bolshevism is an existential stance toward the world: it sees man’s essence in his capacity to transcend historical necessity, and it holds that freedom is achieved not by adapting to reality but by unsettling it. Pragmatism, conversely, is an empirical stance: it views freedom as effective action within the limits of the possible. The former glorifies man as a collective, revolutionary agent; the latter glorifies him as an individual, experimental actor. The former sees contradiction as the engine of change; the latter sees it as an opportunity for experimentation. The former believes thought precedes reality and guides it; the latter, that thought follows reality and is shaped by it.

At the core of Bolshevism lies a quasi-metaphysical faith in objective truth despite its materialism—an assurance that the world has a rational structure that can be grasped and transformed. At the core of Pragmatism lies a silent rejection of all certainty—it sees existence as an open fabric of experiences whose essence can never be grasped. Thus emerges the great paradox: Bolshevism, though materialist, harbors an almost religious faith in the absolute; Pragmatism, though secular, sinks into a relativism that renders all things transient and perishable.

Hence, man in Bolshevism appears as a being bearing the message of history; in Pragmatism, as a being bearing the tools of life. In the former, he transcends necessity to create meaning; in the latter, he adapts to necessity to preserve existence. The former teaches man to live for the future; the latter, to live for the moment. The former teaches him how to die for a principle; the latter, how to live for a result. The former creates heroes; the latter, achievers. The former builds an epic; the latter, an experiment.

Yet human truth is too vast to be confined to either pole. When the Bolshevik dwells too long in his absolute faith, he becomes an authority that sanctifies the idea and suffocates man in the name of revolution. When the Pragmatist sinks too deeply into realism, he becomes a being without roots or purpose, changing his principles as he changes his clothes, measuring himself by what his hands accomplish rather than what his conscience holds. Thus, each—when taken to the extreme—mirrors the other’s distortion: Bolshevism may turn into rigid ideological despotism, and Pragmatism into a soft slavery to self-interest. The former kills the spirit in the name of principle; the latter kills principle in the name of the spirit.

And yet, life cannot do without either. For man, in his depths, needs principle as much as he needs utility—he needs dream as much as reality. He needs the certainty of Bolshevism to believe, and the doubt of Pragmatism to learn. He needs a revolution to change the world, and an experiment to understand it. For thought without action petrifies, and action without principle dissipates. Man is not confined to one or the other—he is the bridge between them, the bridge between idea and reality, between justice and success, between being a witness to history or being its maker.

Bolshevism reminds man that his existence is not measured by what he owns but by what he believes in, and that principle can be a path to redemption. Pragmatism reminds him that faith without experiment becomes a burden, and that an idea that bears no fruit in reality is but sterile luxury. Hence arises the philosophical necessity of balance between them—for principle without reality is fantasy, and reality without principle is absurdity. Man lives neither in dream alone nor in experience alone, but in the tension between them—in that very distance where Bolshevism and Pragmatism wrestle within his conscience, where awareness is forged and meaning is born.

Thus, when we reconsider this struggle, we realize it is not merely a conflict between doctrines, but between two human natures: one that believes in eternity, and another that believes in the moment; one that seeks truth, and another that seeks utility. The one declares, “I believe, therefore I am,” and the other declares, “I experiment, therefore I am.” The one believes the world can be changed; the other believes it can only be understood. And between change and understanding, between revolution and experience, between Bolshevism and Pragmatism, the human journey unfolds—a perpetual voyage toward meaning, a voyage that ends only when the question itself ceases to be asked.

Conclusion:
In their deepest essence, Bolshevism and Pragmatism are not merely two intellectual currents born of different historical contexts; they are symbolic representations of two opposing orientations in humanity’s understanding of itself and the world: one finds salvation in revolution against reality, while the other finds it in adaptation to it. Bolshevism springs from the conviction that truth is not what is, but what ought to be; it is a drive to transcend the present existence in the name of justice, equality, and moral absolutes — where the human being is a historical entity that creates itself through collective action and struggle against the structure of alienation. Pragmatism, on the other hand, sees truth in outcome, not in ideal; in practical utility rather than in the moral absolute. It is the philosophy of possible action, not of revolutionary upheaval — the philosophy of gradual reform, not of cosmic explosion. At its core, Pragmatism believes that thought is a means, not an end, and that man is defined not by what he dreams, but by what he achieves within the limits of the possible.

Thus, the difference between Bolshevism and Pragmatism reveals itself as the difference between the absolute and the relative, between revolution and experience, between dream and adaptation. The Bolshevik lives within the becoming of history, believing that existence is fulfilled only within the collective, and that freedom is realized through the dialectical negation of an unjust reality; whereas the Pragmatist lives in the moment of the present, convinced that every truth is measured only by its fruits, and that a word which bears no action is but a cry in the void. Bolshevism is the child of pain, will, and contradiction; Pragmatism the offspring of experience, balance, and realism.

Yet, in the end, man cannot live with only one face; every revolutionary carries within him a frightened Pragmatist afraid of the fall, and every Pragmatist harbors within his silence a dormant rebel awaiting the moment of awakening. Human existence is complete only when the absolute reconciles with the relative, when dream embraces reality, and when principle unites with action. For when man learns to dream with realism, to act with faith without deifying himself, and to revolt for the sake of humanity rather than for the sake of doctrine — only then does he transcend both Bolshevism and Pragmatism, and ascend toward his higher humanity.