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The Wind from the East: French Intellectuals, the Cultural Revolution, and the Legacy of the 1960s
How Maoism captured the imagination of French intellectuals during the 1960s
Michel Foucault, Jean-Paul Sartre, Julia Kristeva, Phillipe Sollers, and Jean-Luc Godard. During the 1960s, a who's who of French thinkers, writers, and artists, spurred by China's Cultural Revolution, were seized with a fascination for Maoism. Combining a merciless exposé of left-wing political folly and cross-cultural misunderstanding with a spirited defense of the 1960s, The Wind from the East tells the colorful story of this legendary period in France. Richard Wolin shows how French students and intellectuals, inspired by their perceptions of the Cultural Revolution, and motivated by utopian hopes, incited grassroots social movements and reinvigorated French civic and cultural life.
Wolin's riveting narrative reveals that Maoism's allure among France's best and brightest actually had little to do with a real understanding of Chinese politics. Instead, it paradoxically served as a vehicle for an emancipatory transformation of French society. French student leftists took up the trope of "cultural revolution," applying it to their criticisms of everyday life. Wolin examines how Maoism captured the imaginations of France's leading cultural figures, influencing Sartre's "perfect Maoist moment"; Foucault's conception of power; Sollers's chic, leftist intellectual journal Tel Quel ; as well as Kristeva's book on Chinese women--which included a vigorous defense of foot-binding.
Recounting the cultural and political odyssey of French students and intellectuals in the 1960s, The Wind from the East illustrates how the Maoist phenomenon unexpectedly sparked a democratic political sea change in France.
Michel Foucault, Jean-Paul Sartre, Julia Kristeva, Phillipe Sollers, and Jean-Luc Godard. During the 1960s, a who's who of French thinkers, writers, and artists, spurred by China's Cultural Revolution, were seized with a fascination for Maoism. Combining a merciless exposé of left-wing political folly and cross-cultural misunderstanding with a spirited defense of the 1960s, The Wind from the East tells the colorful story of this legendary period in France. Richard Wolin shows how French students and intellectuals, inspired by their perceptions of the Cultural Revolution, and motivated by utopian hopes, incited grassroots social movements and reinvigorated French civic and cultural life.
Wolin's riveting narrative reveals that Maoism's allure among France's best and brightest actually had little to do with a real understanding of Chinese politics. Instead, it paradoxically served as a vehicle for an emancipatory transformation of French society. French student leftists took up the trope of "cultural revolution," applying it to their criticisms of everyday life. Wolin examines how Maoism captured the imaginations of France's leading cultural figures, influencing Sartre's "perfect Maoist moment"; Foucault's conception of power; Sollers's chic, leftist intellectual journal Tel Quel ; as well as Kristeva's book on Chinese women--which included a vigorous defense of foot-binding.
Recounting the cultural and political odyssey of French students and intellectuals in the 1960s, The Wind from the East illustrates how the Maoist phenomenon unexpectedly sparked a democratic political sea change in France.
408 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2008
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November 8, 2021So within the past year, I became aware of the annoyingly vocal contingent of American teenagers who, understandably seeking a remedy for the neoliberal hellscape in which we live, have foolishly turned to China for inspiration, and quote Xi Jinping on their Twitter feeds and dismiss any criticism of the phony-Maoist, state capitalist order as US propaganda.
Turns out a bunch of French kids were doing the same 50 years ago, which I was more or less aware of -- I'd seen those clunky Godard films, I'd read the various dialectical hemmings and hawings of the time that enraptured too many good thinkers, even my beloved Barthes. Wolin's message is as follows: seeking alternatives to standard-form Marxism, existentialism, and structuralism, the culture-obsessed and hopelessly ivory-tower lefties of post-May '68 France turned to Mao for guidance, and from there abandoned Marxism entirely in favor of a more cultural politics.
The thing is those cultural politics are fucking stupid. That's how you get neoliberalism at its worst.
Wolin tries to distance himself from any kind of ideological position. While he (for example) rightly mocks Kristeva's celebration of foot-binding as female empowerment, as based on the theology of Lacanian theory, and he admires the best efforts of Sartre and Foucault, he also seems annoyingly OK with the politics of self-improvement brought on by the 1960s transformation, and he refrains from taking a stand on the mix of status-quo dullardry and obnoxious posturing of the nouveaux philosophes. As far as storytelling in the history of ideas goes, Wolin is an absolute master, but I would like a bit more of a clear stance.
Turns out a bunch of French kids were doing the same 50 years ago, which I was more or less aware of -- I'd seen those clunky Godard films, I'd read the various dialectical hemmings and hawings of the time that enraptured too many good thinkers, even my beloved Barthes. Wolin's message is as follows: seeking alternatives to standard-form Marxism, existentialism, and structuralism, the culture-obsessed and hopelessly ivory-tower lefties of post-May '68 France turned to Mao for guidance, and from there abandoned Marxism entirely in favor of a more cultural politics.
The thing is those cultural politics are fucking stupid. That's how you get neoliberalism at its worst.
Wolin tries to distance himself from any kind of ideological position. While he (for example) rightly mocks Kristeva's celebration of foot-binding as female empowerment, as based on the theology of Lacanian theory, and he admires the best efforts of Sartre and Foucault, he also seems annoyingly OK with the politics of self-improvement brought on by the 1960s transformation, and he refrains from taking a stand on the mix of status-quo dullardry and obnoxious posturing of the nouveaux philosophes. As far as storytelling in the history of ideas goes, Wolin is an absolute master, but I would like a bit more of a clear stance.
September 7, 2016
Really enjoyed this. A more in-depth tale is there to be told, but this was good craic.
August 23, 2025
not good. repetitive. condescending.
January 8, 2024
To begin with, I must recommend against reading this book unless you have a high tolerance for disorganized, repetitive, second-hand descriptions of intellectual currents that you would probably do better to glean from primary sources. The chapters have the flavor of different lectures that cover a lot of overlapping ground, such that there are many sentences and even full paragraphs that explain concepts and trace arguments that have already been established in almost the exact same language earlier in the book. It is also filled with Franglish jargon and references to the field of ’68 studies that a neophyte will struggle to understand. But all told, these are minor issues.
The more central problem is that the work is openly biased, to the point that we get nothing resembling a charitable study of the ideologies and ideologues that the book is supposed to be about. The prose here is crawling with editorial adverbs, such as “justly,” “foolishly,” “correctly,” and “naively.” On any given page you can find this author holding forth about “excesses” and “delusions,” and handing down judgment about which political projects have and have not been “historically discredited.” Maoism is repeatedly described as “radical chic,” a fascination of overeducated “mandarins,” and its adherents are ridiculed, wherever possible, for their bourgeois backgrounds. (Actual working-class militants from the time and place under study are rather frantically ignored.) Leftist intellectuals who, after reading Solzhenitsyn, finally repent of their communist fidelities are characterized as penitents opening their hearts at last to “more productive” concerns like “democracy,” “human rights,” “libidinal politics,” and “the politics of everyday life.” All this, in service of Wolin’s core argument that, though the French Maoists were prisoners of an intellectual fad, their newfound focus on “cultural issues” and their departure from Marxist orthodoxy ended up dovetailing nicely with the libertarian moral character of France’s post-May ’68 political transition.
Okay, it’s a thesis, so be it. But as a natural consequence of his vehement anti-communism, Wolin holds his nose at certain concepts and phrases, among them “Leninism,” “proletariat,” “seizure of power,” “violence,” and “means of production.” He hastens to excoriate figures like Frantz Fanon, Alain Badiou, and Louis Althusser wherever they show a greater tolerance for these words than he himself can muster. In the later chapters on Sartre, Kristeva and Foucault, the reader cannot help but groan as Wolin laboriously rolls up his sleeves each time to defeat these thinkers with a few well-chosen left-libertarian truisms. He claims that postwar modernization and affluence in France have rendered the working class a non-entity. He opines that Leninism self-evidently leads to tyranny. He denounces all forms of revolutionary violence, mewling that “negotiated solutions” present the only off-ramps to such conflicts as the Algerian War—and never sparing a thought for how it comes to be that colonizers are induced to negotiate at all. These are all tendentious premises, but what is worse is that they are irrelevant. Their absence would be no impediment to a clear narrative of Maoism’s rise and fall in French intellectual circles. Wolin’s constant retching at the subject of his own book is a serious distraction.
The author’s refusal to endorse left politics more militant than his own is not the problem; my personal politics align much more closely with Wolin’s than with Chairman Mao’s. But the refusal to see any sophistication or moral urgency in communist thought renders the analysis facile in many places. Routinely Wolin will set out an invidious introduction for a block quote, preparing the reader for yet another bit of driveling post-structuralist foolishness, and then the quote itself will be much more interesting than that, rich in ambiguities that Wolin seems not to perceive.
The book thus shares an ironic commonality with the tour that the Tel Quel staff took of Mao’s China—rather than a full and subtle exploration of the political landscape, we get a weirdly elliptical and heavily editorialized tour of only the things that our guide finds appropriate, with nothing but stentorian condemnations for everything that doesn’t mesh with his priors. One would hope for a little more intellectual flexibility in a work of intellectual history.
The more central problem is that the work is openly biased, to the point that we get nothing resembling a charitable study of the ideologies and ideologues that the book is supposed to be about. The prose here is crawling with editorial adverbs, such as “justly,” “foolishly,” “correctly,” and “naively.” On any given page you can find this author holding forth about “excesses” and “delusions,” and handing down judgment about which political projects have and have not been “historically discredited.” Maoism is repeatedly described as “radical chic,” a fascination of overeducated “mandarins,” and its adherents are ridiculed, wherever possible, for their bourgeois backgrounds. (Actual working-class militants from the time and place under study are rather frantically ignored.) Leftist intellectuals who, after reading Solzhenitsyn, finally repent of their communist fidelities are characterized as penitents opening their hearts at last to “more productive” concerns like “democracy,” “human rights,” “libidinal politics,” and “the politics of everyday life.” All this, in service of Wolin’s core argument that, though the French Maoists were prisoners of an intellectual fad, their newfound focus on “cultural issues” and their departure from Marxist orthodoxy ended up dovetailing nicely with the libertarian moral character of France’s post-May ’68 political transition.
Okay, it’s a thesis, so be it. But as a natural consequence of his vehement anti-communism, Wolin holds his nose at certain concepts and phrases, among them “Leninism,” “proletariat,” “seizure of power,” “violence,” and “means of production.” He hastens to excoriate figures like Frantz Fanon, Alain Badiou, and Louis Althusser wherever they show a greater tolerance for these words than he himself can muster. In the later chapters on Sartre, Kristeva and Foucault, the reader cannot help but groan as Wolin laboriously rolls up his sleeves each time to defeat these thinkers with a few well-chosen left-libertarian truisms. He claims that postwar modernization and affluence in France have rendered the working class a non-entity. He opines that Leninism self-evidently leads to tyranny. He denounces all forms of revolutionary violence, mewling that “negotiated solutions” present the only off-ramps to such conflicts as the Algerian War—and never sparing a thought for how it comes to be that colonizers are induced to negotiate at all. These are all tendentious premises, but what is worse is that they are irrelevant. Their absence would be no impediment to a clear narrative of Maoism’s rise and fall in French intellectual circles. Wolin’s constant retching at the subject of his own book is a serious distraction.
The author’s refusal to endorse left politics more militant than his own is not the problem; my personal politics align much more closely with Wolin’s than with Chairman Mao’s. But the refusal to see any sophistication or moral urgency in communist thought renders the analysis facile in many places. Routinely Wolin will set out an invidious introduction for a block quote, preparing the reader for yet another bit of driveling post-structuralist foolishness, and then the quote itself will be much more interesting than that, rich in ambiguities that Wolin seems not to perceive.
The book thus shares an ironic commonality with the tour that the Tel Quel staff took of Mao’s China—rather than a full and subtle exploration of the political landscape, we get a weirdly elliptical and heavily editorialized tour of only the things that our guide finds appropriate, with nothing but stentorian condemnations for everything that doesn’t mesh with his priors. One would hope for a little more intellectual flexibility in a work of intellectual history.
September 26, 2026
This book has many of the unfortunate attributes that come with its author. Richard Wolin is a pompous, condescending writer who, as a thinker, sermonizes rather than argues. Whichever writer he is covering is either “right” or “wrong” based on the degree their world-view agrees with Wolin’s, and we readers sense that Wolin extends that attitude towards us. For all of that, “Wind From the East” is not a complete waste, as are some of Wolin’s voluminous attacks on Heidegger.
Wolin’s historical narrative is very simple. The French youth of May ’68 created a new kind of revolution that did not seek political power but instead sought to “transform everyday life”. The old, Marxist left, and the intellectuals that had followed it, were caught off guard by this, eventually recognized the importance of the student protests, and tried to translate their energy into a new terminology of the old left. The most convenient such terminology was that of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, which the French in no way understood. Gradually, most of the intellectuals saw the errors of their ways, abandoned “faddish” and “false” doctrines such as Marxism and structuralism, learned the true lessons of May ‘68 and took up the just and eternal cause of “universal human rights” in the context of “democracy”.
One of Wolin’s worst qualities is to present exceedingly simplistic, sometimes verifiably misleading descriptions of the schools and thinkers he opposes. His first book on Heidegger, “The Politics of Being” is filled with what are either ludicrous reaches in interpretation or outright intentional mischaracterizations of Heidegger’s thought. “Wind From the East” is not quite so egregious in this respect, but its characterizations of Marxist and structuralist thinking are still deeply problematic.
Wolin’s response to the entirety of the Leninist tradition is not argumentative but moralistic. Because Marxism-Leninism does not conform with his humanist ideology it simply must be false and wrong. The differences between various schools of revolutionary Marxism (Trotskyism, Stalinism, Maoism…) are declared, not demonstrated, to be false choices between ultimately identical forms of murderous totalitarianism. He also declares all western notions of “third world-ism” (be they Marxist in character or not) to be naive, romanticizations of cultures too “backward” for “democracy”.
Wolin denounces all those who would seek to find a more “humane” and “correct” version of Marxism. For Wolin, the practitioners of “actually existing socialism” cannot be separated from the thinking of Marx or any other Marxist thinker. The whole intellectual edifice is rotten to the core. This is rich because in “Politics of Being” he denies that the ideology of western liberalism can be blamed for Nazism, or even imperialism and colonialism because these were simply “misinterpretations” of the original intent of liberalism!
The low-point of “Wind From the East” is a thankfully short discussion of Alain Badiou that is as weak as any of Wolin’s attacks on Heidegger. Badiou is “an unrepentant Maoist” whose non-liberal humanist positions doom him to being “bad and wrong”.
If Wolin’s descriptions/ denunciations of Marxism are dismissibly simplistic, his attempts to address the structuralist tradition are misleadingly wrong-headed. He characterizes all thinkers who, for him, fall under the banner as “structuralist” as being united in the sentiment that society is ruled by unchanging “structures” that cannot be over-come. The structuralists, Wolin tells us, sought to turn the human sciences and humanities into sources of unchanging, objectively scientific truths.
First of all, this strikes me as a mischaracterization of “science” itself. Is it not the basis of the scientific method to constantly test and retest hypothesis with the intention that previously held “truths” might prove inadequate or even false? Isn’t this key to the notion of paradigmatic scientific revolutions as conceived by a STRUCTURALIST such as Kuhn? The scientific method is by no means one that seeks to erect unchallengeable “truths”.
But even if one agrees with Wolin’s concept of the “scientific”, I do not feel that many of the structuralists can be characterized as compatible with such thinking. Does Saussure’s notion of the signification of the arbitrary signifier as entirely context-based not suggest the very malleability of meaning? Althusser is dismissed as a stodgy Stalinist-structuralist intent on demonstrating that Marxism was an infallible source of scientific truth. Wolin thus ignores that Althusser refused the title of “structuralist” and that his search for a “Marxist science” consistently concluded that no such thing existed.
Perhaps the most telling (mis)characterization of a thinker that Wolin labels “structuralist” is that of Foucault. Wolin interprets Foucault’s famous metaphor of “man” as a sand-castle being swept away by the ocean as a notion that change is impossible because, according to Wolin, “man” is the only subject capable of bringing about historical change. Wolin does not consider the thought that the history of human subjectivity is itself an arbitrary regime of knowledge- a paradigm in Kuhn-ian terminology, that could be replaced by a post-human, post-subjective discourse and that only this would truly constitute change.
And yet, for all of these problems, “Wind From the East” is not devoid of worth. Wolin provides a very useful history of the events of May ’68 and its ripple-effects, such as the French feminist and LGBT+ movements. His short biographical sketches of figures such as Sartre are convincing, and even rather affecting. This is enough to make this work more worthwhile than the volumes of ill-conceived vitriol against the “Nazi philosopher” who wrote “Being and Time”.
Wolin’s historical narrative is very simple. The French youth of May ’68 created a new kind of revolution that did not seek political power but instead sought to “transform everyday life”. The old, Marxist left, and the intellectuals that had followed it, were caught off guard by this, eventually recognized the importance of the student protests, and tried to translate their energy into a new terminology of the old left. The most convenient such terminology was that of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, which the French in no way understood. Gradually, most of the intellectuals saw the errors of their ways, abandoned “faddish” and “false” doctrines such as Marxism and structuralism, learned the true lessons of May ‘68 and took up the just and eternal cause of “universal human rights” in the context of “democracy”.
One of Wolin’s worst qualities is to present exceedingly simplistic, sometimes verifiably misleading descriptions of the schools and thinkers he opposes. His first book on Heidegger, “The Politics of Being” is filled with what are either ludicrous reaches in interpretation or outright intentional mischaracterizations of Heidegger’s thought. “Wind From the East” is not quite so egregious in this respect, but its characterizations of Marxist and structuralist thinking are still deeply problematic.
Wolin’s response to the entirety of the Leninist tradition is not argumentative but moralistic. Because Marxism-Leninism does not conform with his humanist ideology it simply must be false and wrong. The differences between various schools of revolutionary Marxism (Trotskyism, Stalinism, Maoism…) are declared, not demonstrated, to be false choices between ultimately identical forms of murderous totalitarianism. He also declares all western notions of “third world-ism” (be they Marxist in character or not) to be naive, romanticizations of cultures too “backward” for “democracy”.
Wolin denounces all those who would seek to find a more “humane” and “correct” version of Marxism. For Wolin, the practitioners of “actually existing socialism” cannot be separated from the thinking of Marx or any other Marxist thinker. The whole intellectual edifice is rotten to the core. This is rich because in “Politics of Being” he denies that the ideology of western liberalism can be blamed for Nazism, or even imperialism and colonialism because these were simply “misinterpretations” of the original intent of liberalism!
The low-point of “Wind From the East” is a thankfully short discussion of Alain Badiou that is as weak as any of Wolin’s attacks on Heidegger. Badiou is “an unrepentant Maoist” whose non-liberal humanist positions doom him to being “bad and wrong”.
If Wolin’s descriptions/ denunciations of Marxism are dismissibly simplistic, his attempts to address the structuralist tradition are misleadingly wrong-headed. He characterizes all thinkers who, for him, fall under the banner as “structuralist” as being united in the sentiment that society is ruled by unchanging “structures” that cannot be over-come. The structuralists, Wolin tells us, sought to turn the human sciences and humanities into sources of unchanging, objectively scientific truths.
First of all, this strikes me as a mischaracterization of “science” itself. Is it not the basis of the scientific method to constantly test and retest hypothesis with the intention that previously held “truths” might prove inadequate or even false? Isn’t this key to the notion of paradigmatic scientific revolutions as conceived by a STRUCTURALIST such as Kuhn? The scientific method is by no means one that seeks to erect unchallengeable “truths”.
But even if one agrees with Wolin’s concept of the “scientific”, I do not feel that many of the structuralists can be characterized as compatible with such thinking. Does Saussure’s notion of the signification of the arbitrary signifier as entirely context-based not suggest the very malleability of meaning? Althusser is dismissed as a stodgy Stalinist-structuralist intent on demonstrating that Marxism was an infallible source of scientific truth. Wolin thus ignores that Althusser refused the title of “structuralist” and that his search for a “Marxist science” consistently concluded that no such thing existed.
Perhaps the most telling (mis)characterization of a thinker that Wolin labels “structuralist” is that of Foucault. Wolin interprets Foucault’s famous metaphor of “man” as a sand-castle being swept away by the ocean as a notion that change is impossible because, according to Wolin, “man” is the only subject capable of bringing about historical change. Wolin does not consider the thought that the history of human subjectivity is itself an arbitrary regime of knowledge- a paradigm in Kuhn-ian terminology, that could be replaced by a post-human, post-subjective discourse and that only this would truly constitute change.
And yet, for all of these problems, “Wind From the East” is not devoid of worth. Wolin provides a very useful history of the events of May ’68 and its ripple-effects, such as the French feminist and LGBT+ movements. His short biographical sketches of figures such as Sartre are convincing, and even rather affecting. This is enough to make this work more worthwhile than the volumes of ill-conceived vitriol against the “Nazi philosopher” who wrote “Being and Time”.
April 7, 2015
The fact that the author sympathizes with "the New Philosophers" demonstrates the level of his ability to think through the problematics of history and theory. Not surprising for someone whose academic career crystallized within the Telos journal which became more and more conservative the more it "appropriated" the philosophy of Carl Schmitt. Dhruv Jain's review at *Marx & Philosophy Review of Books* adequately sums up my thoughts on this anecdote-based "history":
http://marxandphilosophy.org.uk/revie...
http://marxandphilosophy.org.uk/revie...
February 10, 2023
The book is a mix of social and intellectual history. The titular Maoism is not really the main subject but only one of the topics mentioned. First few chapters are a lengthy overview of postwar French society and main reasons for student dissatisfaction and events of May 1968. Second part deals with the famous intellectuals of the era and is more focused on philosophy.
Postwar society was characterized by extraordinary growth of living standard and political fragility due to wars in Indochina and Algeria which led to Gaullist consolidation of power. Demographic trends led to an increased proportion of young people and a high number of students. Well-off young people became increasingly bored with consumer society, traditional hierarchies and technocratic politics; they realized that old-fashioned Marxism was also really boring and started to look for other ways to rebel. Besides its proclaimed anti-authoritarian egalitarianism, Maoism became attractive because it provided voluntarist, romantic view of revolution and focus on cultural issues rather than economics. Mao rejected traditional Marxist view that base defines superstructure and argued for their complex interaction.
The book describes numerous sects and activists who participated in politics of the era; some of them were quite ridiculous. Upper-class young Maoists spent years working in provincial factories in order to better understand proletarian life. They were still dismissed by leftist intellectuals, many of them also from wealthy families, for not being proletarian enough. Radical feminist groups rejected traditional politics and ended up as pointless gatherings in which their leaders would discuss their personal problems and relationships; most members got bored and they quickly fell apart. Some artists saw Mao as a great poet and philosopher who will open the doors for all kinds of avant-garde cultural innovation. There were even homosexual groups inspired by Maoism. All of them had no idea about what was really going on in China due to scarce information and just engaged in wishful thinking. When the negative news started to arrive they bravely ignored them until it became impossible.
The upheaval came mostly from the margins, rather than from established leftist intellectuals. Students disliked the establishment, especially structuralists, and many leftists dismissed students as spoiled rich kids unable to make any political change because the prophecy said that only workers can do to that. Sartre was the only one revered by student leaders and he took the opportunity to revive his career. Although he was somewhat reserved towards Maoism, his general support for revolutionary youth helped popularize the new radical chic. Foucault missed the main events in France but soon became more politically engaged. His new analysis of power and culture was welcomed as more appropriate radical paradigm for disparate minority interests than outdated, rigid Marxism. Alain Badiou, Philippe Sollers and Julia Kristeva are also presented in more details as examples of more eccentric extremists.
Wolin dismisses Marxist and conservative criticisms that 1960s upheavals were just about youthful narcissism and inane hedonism, noting how they seriously transformed education, politics and culture. He ridicules excesses, opportunism and dishonesty of revolutionaries but acknowledges their impact. They were so successful in inciting reforms and change of social attitudes that by 1980s they lost all of their militancy, and most of the intellectuals renounced Maoism. After Munich Olympics, publications by Eastern European dissidents, and especially when faced with Cambodian disaster, they became advocates of human rights and opponents of totalitarianism. Wolin speculates that the subsequent decline of the social role of French intellectuals happened both because of the democratization of educational system and because of the serious political blunders that many of them made. Overall, the book could have been better organized, some parts are longer than necessary, there are digressions and repetitions, but it was an interesting read. It provides a balanced view on the 1960s, noting the excesses but going beyond simplistic ideological criticisms.
Postwar society was characterized by extraordinary growth of living standard and political fragility due to wars in Indochina and Algeria which led to Gaullist consolidation of power. Demographic trends led to an increased proportion of young people and a high number of students. Well-off young people became increasingly bored with consumer society, traditional hierarchies and technocratic politics; they realized that old-fashioned Marxism was also really boring and started to look for other ways to rebel. Besides its proclaimed anti-authoritarian egalitarianism, Maoism became attractive because it provided voluntarist, romantic view of revolution and focus on cultural issues rather than economics. Mao rejected traditional Marxist view that base defines superstructure and argued for their complex interaction.
The book describes numerous sects and activists who participated in politics of the era; some of them were quite ridiculous. Upper-class young Maoists spent years working in provincial factories in order to better understand proletarian life. They were still dismissed by leftist intellectuals, many of them also from wealthy families, for not being proletarian enough. Radical feminist groups rejected traditional politics and ended up as pointless gatherings in which their leaders would discuss their personal problems and relationships; most members got bored and they quickly fell apart. Some artists saw Mao as a great poet and philosopher who will open the doors for all kinds of avant-garde cultural innovation. There were even homosexual groups inspired by Maoism. All of them had no idea about what was really going on in China due to scarce information and just engaged in wishful thinking. When the negative news started to arrive they bravely ignored them until it became impossible.
The upheaval came mostly from the margins, rather than from established leftist intellectuals. Students disliked the establishment, especially structuralists, and many leftists dismissed students as spoiled rich kids unable to make any political change because the prophecy said that only workers can do to that. Sartre was the only one revered by student leaders and he took the opportunity to revive his career. Although he was somewhat reserved towards Maoism, his general support for revolutionary youth helped popularize the new radical chic. Foucault missed the main events in France but soon became more politically engaged. His new analysis of power and culture was welcomed as more appropriate radical paradigm for disparate minority interests than outdated, rigid Marxism. Alain Badiou, Philippe Sollers and Julia Kristeva are also presented in more details as examples of more eccentric extremists.
Wolin dismisses Marxist and conservative criticisms that 1960s upheavals were just about youthful narcissism and inane hedonism, noting how they seriously transformed education, politics and culture. He ridicules excesses, opportunism and dishonesty of revolutionaries but acknowledges their impact. They were so successful in inciting reforms and change of social attitudes that by 1980s they lost all of their militancy, and most of the intellectuals renounced Maoism. After Munich Olympics, publications by Eastern European dissidents, and especially when faced with Cambodian disaster, they became advocates of human rights and opponents of totalitarianism. Wolin speculates that the subsequent decline of the social role of French intellectuals happened both because of the democratization of educational system and because of the serious political blunders that many of them made. Overall, the book could have been better organized, some parts are longer than necessary, there are digressions and repetitions, but it was an interesting read. It provides a balanced view on the 1960s, noting the excesses but going beyond simplistic ideological criticisms.
January 16, 2025
C'è un po' di tutto dentro questo libro, un libro che forse non sapeva bene cosa voleva essere.
Dal titolo, dalla copertina, e un po' anche dal riassunto, prometteva di illustrare come gli intellettuali francesi degli anni Sessanta, gli anni della contestazione, si fossero innamorati di una Rivoluzione Culturale cinese di cui a conti fatti sapevano molto poco, ma che proprio grazie a questo travisamento portarono avanti istanze libertarie ed emancipatorie difficilmente condannabili (almeno per me).
Certo, il libro racconta anche questo, di questa singolare creatura che fu il maoismo in Francia, ma in modo piuttosto marginale, perché la sua è soprattutto una storia dell'intellettualità francese alternativa del dopoguerra (Sartre, la Kristeva, Foucault sopra tutti), vista nel suo più ampio contesto.
E così ben un quarto del volume è dedicato ai quasi venticinque anni che hanno portato fino al maggio del '68, un altro quarto alla storia politica e sociale di quel periodo, e solo nella seconda metà si affrontano finalmente questi intellettuali, ma anche qui l'autore si diffonde nel tracciarne l'intera vita più che la questione specifica del loro rapporto col maoismo, reale o immaginario che fosse.
È comunque un libro davvero ben scritto (pur con alcune ripetizioni) e interessante, in cui traluce il rapporto ambiguo dell'autore per i suoi oggetti di studio, a cui non risparmia severe critiche per le loro vicende, tra cui anche la giustificazione della lotta armata, se non persino del terrorismo, ma cui sa comunque concedere i loro meriti e il loro spessore teorico.
Ed è utile anche per comprendere un periodo che da una parte può risultare oggi lontano e scarsamente comprensibile, con le sue diatribe teoriche tra strutturalismo e poststrutturalismo, tra umanesimo e antiumanesimo, e poi con tutte le infinite sottigliezze ideologiche delle varie sette marxiste, ma che dall'altra parte permette di vedere dove affondino determinate radici, come l'attenzione agli stili di vita e all'emancipazione non più della classe operaia ma dei marginali nella società, tutte cose che poi, con la fine dei paesi del socialismo reale, sarebbero diventate dominanti nella politica di sinistra e non solo di sinistra, e di cui praticamente dibattiamo ancora oggi.
Dal titolo, dalla copertina, e un po' anche dal riassunto, prometteva di illustrare come gli intellettuali francesi degli anni Sessanta, gli anni della contestazione, si fossero innamorati di una Rivoluzione Culturale cinese di cui a conti fatti sapevano molto poco, ma che proprio grazie a questo travisamento portarono avanti istanze libertarie ed emancipatorie difficilmente condannabili (almeno per me).
Certo, il libro racconta anche questo, di questa singolare creatura che fu il maoismo in Francia, ma in modo piuttosto marginale, perché la sua è soprattutto una storia dell'intellettualità francese alternativa del dopoguerra (Sartre, la Kristeva, Foucault sopra tutti), vista nel suo più ampio contesto.
E così ben un quarto del volume è dedicato ai quasi venticinque anni che hanno portato fino al maggio del '68, un altro quarto alla storia politica e sociale di quel periodo, e solo nella seconda metà si affrontano finalmente questi intellettuali, ma anche qui l'autore si diffonde nel tracciarne l'intera vita più che la questione specifica del loro rapporto col maoismo, reale o immaginario che fosse.
È comunque un libro davvero ben scritto (pur con alcune ripetizioni) e interessante, in cui traluce il rapporto ambiguo dell'autore per i suoi oggetti di studio, a cui non risparmia severe critiche per le loro vicende, tra cui anche la giustificazione della lotta armata, se non persino del terrorismo, ma cui sa comunque concedere i loro meriti e il loro spessore teorico.
Ed è utile anche per comprendere un periodo che da una parte può risultare oggi lontano e scarsamente comprensibile, con le sue diatribe teoriche tra strutturalismo e poststrutturalismo, tra umanesimo e antiumanesimo, e poi con tutte le infinite sottigliezze ideologiche delle varie sette marxiste, ma che dall'altra parte permette di vedere dove affondino determinate radici, come l'attenzione agli stili di vita e all'emancipazione non più della classe operaia ma dei marginali nella società, tutte cose che poi, con la fine dei paesi del socialismo reale, sarebbero diventate dominanti nella politica di sinistra e non solo di sinistra, e di cui praticamente dibattiamo ancora oggi.
March 25, 2022
In some ways the relation of the characters in this book to actual Maoism is trivial and expressed by Wolin’s frequent reference to China as a “Rorschach test.” These people had absolutely no knowledge and even less interest in the actual circumstances of the Cultural Revolution; embracing Mao was a way of saying you were a more participatory, democratic (lol), dynamic Marxist than a typical Stalinist. But also you weren’t a weak-kneed social democrat.
The Sartre and Foucault chapters are interesting (they’re interesting men!) but notably light on actual engagement with Maoist ideas. It’s clear that neither figure was really a Maoist at all; they just found them to be good company.
I have some pedantic quarrels. There are odd factual errors (Magnus Hirschfeld did not coin the term “homosexual” and he certainly did not do so in the 1860s, when he was an infant) and the chapters are so obviously repurposed journal articles that Wolin sometimes forgets to excise introductions of people that are unnecessary in a book. I don’t need to be reminded who Sartre is after a 60 page chapter on him, but the Tel Quel chapter was originally a different article so there you go, here’s a Sartre intro.
But overall it definitely answers the “why were French people so into Mao” question.
The Sartre and Foucault chapters are interesting (they’re interesting men!) but notably light on actual engagement with Maoist ideas. It’s clear that neither figure was really a Maoist at all; they just found them to be good company.
I have some pedantic quarrels. There are odd factual errors (Magnus Hirschfeld did not coin the term “homosexual” and he certainly did not do so in the 1860s, when he was an infant) and the chapters are so obviously repurposed journal articles that Wolin sometimes forgets to excise introductions of people that are unnecessary in a book. I don’t need to be reminded who Sartre is after a 60 page chapter on him, but the Tel Quel chapter was originally a different article so there you go, here’s a Sartre intro.
But overall it definitely answers the “why were French people so into Mao” question.
March 3, 2021
okay, but it could be a better discussion of the obsession with China that pervades a lot of French cultural history rather than a chastisement of a few Maoists
February 15, 2026
Since the post-May 1968 movement was so deeply influenced by the Maoism, and it is well known that modern Wokeism share a direct lineage with it, it follows that the modern Woke are essentially the Red Guards of today. After finishing this book, I feel that Sartre, Beauvoir, Foucault, Althusser, and Julia Kristeva were truly the scumbags of the earth, and my loathing for that piece of trash Godard has intensified ten-thousandfold.
September 13, 2010
reactionary bullshit!
July 30, 2012
A solid source of gossip, but be ready to wade through an ocean of disdain.
May 1, 2017
Wolin argued that the French Maoists helped effect much of the cultural changes of the French left. Central to his argument is that most of the Maoists were attracted to the writings and militant imagery of Maoism and not so much the actual events of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, since little details about China escaped to outsiders. In the absence of that information, French Maoists imagined it to be a place of anti-imperilist true socialism. Wolin traces the rise of French Maoism to its start as “gauchistes”, or to the left of the Communist Party, which was a “party of order” that followed Moscow’s directives strictly. With the events of May 1968, when massive student protests were joined by workers in a huge general strike that forced De Gaulle from power temporarily, the Maoists sat out because of ideological purity. However, the events forced them into action by criticizing the actions of the CP and arguing from bottom up socialism (again, reading into Mao as opposed his actual actions). The Maoists adopted “going to the people” and began heavy organizing with those on outskirts of society, including immigrants, the unemployed, prisoners, and gay people. Many of their leaders were imprisoned, which enabled further sympathy, as intellectuals like the older Sartre and Foucault joined the Maoists. This site based resistance made them effective organizers into the 1970s, though eventually they lost steam and began less ideological and more reality based left organizing.
Key Themes and Concepts:
-Influence of Maoists is concentrated in universities, the site of massive protests in 1968.
-The French Right blames Maoism for the degeneration of France.
-The Chinese model was very indirectly influencial but had no direct communication, as China was isolated and attempted no rival Communist International to the Soviet Union.
-French Maoists projected what they liked onto Maoism, as being anti-authoritarian and total liberation.
Key Themes and Concepts:
-Influence of Maoists is concentrated in universities, the site of massive protests in 1968.
-The French Right blames Maoism for the degeneration of France.
-The Chinese model was very indirectly influencial but had no direct communication, as China was isolated and attempted no rival Communist International to the Soviet Union.
-French Maoists projected what they liked onto Maoism, as being anti-authoritarian and total liberation.
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