limited only by the limits of the planet.

This revolution is unlike all other revolutions in many respects. It
is not sporadic. It is not a flame of popular discontent, arising in
a day and dying down in a day. It is older than the present
generation. It has a history and traditions, and a martyr-roll only
less extensive possibly than the martyr-roll of Christianity. It has
also a literature a myriad times more imposing, scientific, and
scholarly than the literature of any previous revolution.

They call themselves "comrades," these men, comrades in the socialist
revolution. Nor is the word empty and meaningless, coined of mere
lip service. It knits men together as brothers, as men should be
knit together who stand shoulder to shoulder under the red banner of
revolt. This red banner, by the way, symbolizes the brotherhood of
man, and does not symbolize the incendiarism that instantly connects
itself with the red banner in the affrighted bourgeois mind. The
comradeship of the revolutionists is alive and warm. It passes over
geographical lines, transcends race prejudice, and has even proved
itself mightier than the Fourth of July, spread-eagle Americanism of
our forefathers. The French socialist working-men and the German
socialist working-men forget Alsace and Lorraine, and, when war
threatens, pass resolutions declaring that as working-men and
comrades they have no quarrel with each other. Only the other day,
when Japan and Russia sprang at each other's throats, the
revolutionists of Japan addressed the following message to the
revolutionists of Russia: "Dear Comrades--Your government and ours
have recently plunged into war to carry out their imperialistic
tendencies, but for us socialists there are no boundaries, race,
country, or nationality. We are comrades, brothers, and sisters, and