Read the prologue
The Sentence That
Will Not Stay Buried
There is a sentence Mikhail Bakunin wrote in 1842 that the people who quote it do not know they are quoting, and the people who know they are quoting it do not know what it means.
The sentence has been on your desk your entire working life. It arrived in an envelope you did not open because you did not recognize the handwriting. You used the envelope as a coaster. You moved it from desk to desk through three jobs and two cities and one company you started and lost. The seal stayed unbroken because the seal looked decorative and the letter looked like it was for someone else.
The letter was for you.
The sentence inside the envelope is the one you have heard misquoted at every conference you have attended in the last fifteen years. You have heard it from the keynote stage. You have heard it from the venture partner explaining why your old market is finished. You have heard it from the strategy consultant who priced the deck at forty thousand dollars and used the sentence as the closing slide. You have heard it so many times that the original meaning has been worn off the surface of it, the way a coin loses its face after enough hands.
The sentence, when it left Bakunin’s pen, said this: the passion for destruction is also a creative passion. It was not a slogan. It was the closing line of an essay about Hegel and the German philosophical reaction, written by a twenty-eight-year-old Russian exile who was broke, in love with at least two people who did not love him back, and trying to figure out how a person was supposed to live inside an order he was certain was rotten.
The man who later inherited Bakunin’s idea, refitted it for the twentieth century, and gave it the name the century would carry was an Austrian economist who arrived in Boston in 1932 with a wardrobe of bespoke suits and a wife dying of tuberculosis. His name was Joseph Schumpeter. He used the phrase eight times in eleven pages and then released it into the world. He had meant that capitalism eats itself. He had meant that this eating is the thing capitalism is for. He had not meant that the eating is good. He had not meant that you should celebrate it.
Almost nobody who quotes Schumpeter has read Schumpeter. The letter you have been using as a coaster is the original transmission. This book is what is in the envelope.
— end of excerpt —
“This book is what is in the envelope.”
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