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The Law Of The Unity Of Opposites And The Misuse Of Mao’s Critique Of Stalin

As part of the “ideological warfare” article series, the latest one was ‘The dialectical interrelation between collective illusion and self-imposed illusion: consequential internalization of the ruling narrative by the left.’ The article explained how this internalization occurs and how it produces sectarianism that shows respect even to the bourgeois liberals (writers, academicians, analysts) but treats the communists,- especially those who led the anti-imperialist, anti-fascist wars against imperialism in their respective countries- like the enemy. In most cases, sectarianism shoots itself in the foot.

There are articles on or related to the subject, in different languages, written by sectarians of different factions who ‘criticize’ Stalin, or Mao, or Hoxha in relation to the writers'  hostility to one or the other. Yet,  as ‘pure-Marxists ’, they end up with an identical argument that is totally anti-Marxist; the “unity of opposites” is a “fallacy. Each varies in its approach due to subjectivity, but each ends up in a somewhat similar conclusion. I will take up one case in which the claim is presented as a corrective to Mao—as though Mao had invented the theory, and as though its refutation were the mark of a more rigorous Marxism. Both suppositions are false. The theory is not Mao’s invention; it is the core of materialist dialectics as Lenin formulated it, and Mao himself opened his On Contradiction with the statement of its status:

“The law of contradiction in things, that is, the law of the unity of opposites, is the fundamental law of materialist dialectics.”

The critique of Mao that rests on this basis is not correct, because it mistakes a law of dialectics for a fallacy. Then, he uses that mistake to indict Mao, who had made the same methodological mistake in his critique of Stalin on the subject. The argument must be taken objectively in its dialectical order.

What the Unity of Opposites Actually Is

The confusion begins with the word “contradiction.” In formal logic, a contradiction is an inconsistency in thought, a violation of the laws of identity and non-contradiction, and it must be eliminated. In dialectics, a contradiction is an objective relation within things themselves: mutually exclusive aspects that are at the same time interdependent, that exist only in relation to one another, and that drive the movement of the whole. The first is a defect of thought; the second is the structure of reality. To confound the two is already to have abandoned dialectics.

Marx stated the law in its classical form:

“The coexistence of the two contradictory sides, their struggle, and their fusion into a new category—that is the essence of dialectics.”

Engels drew out what this means for motion itself:

“Motion itself is a contradiction: even simple mechanical change of place can only come about through a body being both in one place and in another place at one and the same moment, being in one and the same place and also not in it.”

Lenin, in On the Question of Dialectics, stated the relation between the two moments of the law with a precision that leaves no room for the charge of “sophistry”:

“The unity (coincidence, identity, equal action) of opposites is conditional, temporary, transitory, relative. The struggle of mutually exclusive opposites is absolute, just as development and motion are absolute.”

And in the same text he identified the cognitive content of the law as the essence of dialectics:

“The splitting of a single whole and the cognition of its contradictory parts … is the essence of dialectics.”

Two things follow, and they must be held together. First, unity is real but relative: it is the concrete condition under which opposites coexist within a single system, and it is always temporary, always subject to dissolution. Second, struggle is absolute: it runs through the entire course of a contradiction, persists in the transition from one contradiction to another, and is the motive force that breaks old unities and forms new ones. The relativity of unity does not make unity fictitious; it makes unity conditional—which is precisely what allows it to be analyzed, specified, and acted upon. A unity without conditions would be a static identity, and a static identity is exactly what metaphysics, not dialectics, posits.

This is why Lenin insists that the knowledge of things “in their ‘self-movement,’ in their spontaneous development, in their real life” is the knowledge of them “as a unity of opposites.” The alternative conception—development as mere increase and decrease, as repetition—leaves the source of motion in the dark or places it outside the thing (in God, in the subject, in an external push). Only the unity of opposites furnishes the key to self-movement, to leaps, to the break in continuity, to the transformation of one thing into its opposite. To call this a “fallacy” is to deny that things move by their own internal contradiction—which is to deny motion itself.

Mao put the same point in the plainest terms, precisely to show that the law is not a piece of abstraction but the structure of every concrete thing:

“All things are the unity of opposites. The five fingers: four point in one direction, the thumb in the other—only then can one grasp something. … Impurity is absolute, purity is relative; this is the unity of opposites.”

If opposites could not be united, nothing could be grasped, because nothing would hold together long enough to be a thing at all. The law is not a speculative ornament; it is the condition of intelligibility of any concrete object—including any concrete political situation.

The practical content of the law was stated with complete clarity by Kaganovich in his speech on the tenth anniversary of the Institute of Red Professors:

“What exactly does the unity of opposites mean in the ordinary language of our Party? It means not to be afraid of difficulties. Not to be afraid of those contradictions of life which spring up on our journey, but instead to conquer them with Bolshevik energy and staunchness.”

“Conquer them”—not evade them, not dissolve them into a verbal harmony. Unity, in the Bolshevik vocabulary, names the terrain on which contradiction is engaged; struggle names the activity by which it is resolved. And Stalin’s warning—do not get carried away with the unity of opposites; this is Hegelian terminology—belongs to the same conception. The warning is not a denial of the law; it is a guard against the use of the Hegelian phrase to smuggle in the idea that opposites culminate in a peaceful reconciliation. In the class struggle, that idea has a name: conciliationism.

Nor was this a departure in Stalin’s systematic statement of dialectics. In Dialectical and Historical Materialism he wrote:

“In contrast to metaphysics, dialectics holds that internal contradictions are inherent in all things and phenomena of nature, for they all have their negative and positive sides, a past and a future, something dying away and something developing; and the struggle between these opposites, the struggle between the old and the new, between that which is dying away and that which is being born, between that which is disappearing and that which is developing, constitutes the internal content of the process of development, the internal content of the transformation of quantitative changes into qualitative changes.”

Here the unity of opposites is not cancelled but located: contradiction is internal to the thing, and it is the internal content of development. That is the Leninist law, stated in the vocabulary of the era of socialist construction.

Mao’s Critique of Stalin: A Critique of Concrete Application, Not of the Law


Mao’s 1957 remark—“he spoke only of the struggle of opposites, not of the unity of opposites”—is routinely torn from its context and brandished as proof that the theory itself is suspect. Read in context, it proves something else: that Mao’s critique is itself incorrect, and cannot bear the weight the sectarians place on it. The full passage is:

“Stalin spoke only of the struggle of opposites, not of the unity of opposites. According to the fundamental law of dialectics, the unity of opposites, opposites struggle and are also united, mutually exclude and are also mutually connected, and under given conditions transform into each other. … Opposites in struggle and unity—Stalin could not connect them. Some people in the Soviet Union think metaphysically, so rigidly, either this or that; they do not recognize the unity of opposites.’”

The critique rests on a false dichotomy. If the unity of opposites is the struggle of opposites, then Stalin’s emphasis on struggle is not a neglect of unity—it is an emphasis on the content of the unity. To say that Stalin “spoke only of struggle and not of unity” assumes that unity is something other than struggle, a separate moment that can be emphasized or neglected alongside it. But the law does not permit that separation. The unity is the unity of opposites; the opposites are united in struggle; the unity is the struggle. Stalin spoke of struggle—which is to say, he spoke of the unity of opposites. The charge that he neglected unity is the charge that he neglected the very thing he was emphasizing, which is incoherent.

This is not a merely semantic point. Mao’s own On Contradiction states the correct relation: “struggle is inherent in identity; without struggle there is no identity.” If struggle is inherent in identity, then identity is not a separate moment that can be played off against struggle. The 1957 critique presupposes a separation that the 1937 text explicitly denies. The critique is therefore inconsistent with the law as Mao himself had stated it—and it is the law, not the critique, that is authoritative.

Moreover, the critique disregards the concrete conditions of each country at the time. Stalin’s 1938 text was written for the era of transition from capitalism to socialism, under capitalist encirclement, in the struggle against reformism and conciliationism on a world scale. In that context, the emphasis on the absoluteness of struggle had a precise political target: the reformist currents that sought to dissolve class antagonism into a harmony of interests. To have emphasized “unity” in isolation from struggle in that context would have played directly into the hands of conciliationism. Stalin’s emphasis was correct for the Soviets under those conditions.

Mao’s 1957 wrong or misplaced critique was made in a different context: socialist China, after the completion of the socialist transformation, addressing the problem of contradictions among the people. The task Mao set himself was to distinguish antagonistic from non-antagonistic contradictions and to find, for the second type, methods of resolution that do not proceed by the suppression of one side— “unity—criticism—unity,” “cure the sickness to save the patient.” In that concrete setting, a one-sided emphasis on struggle, transplanted from a different setting, could indeed have been disastrous: it could have turned non-antagonistic contradictions into antagonistic ones and treated the people as the enemy. So Mao’s critique may have had a temporary, condition-specific validity for China, not for the Soviets.

But that is precisely the point: it had validity for China, under China’s conditions, and temporarily. It does not and cannot apply to the Soviets. The attempt to generalize Mao’s critique—to use it as a basis for declaring the theory a fallacy—is doubly wrong. It misreads the theory (by separating unity from struggle), and it misapplies the critique (by transplanting a China-specific, condition-specific judgment onto the Soviet Union and onto the law itself). The sectarians have taken a critique that may have been valid for a particular time and place, detached it from those conditions, and converted it into a refutation of the law. That is not Marxism; it is the substitution of a slogan for a concrete analysis.

And the ground of the critique is concrete, not abstract. Mao was speaking in the period of socialist construction in China, addressing the problem of contradictions among the people. The task he set himself was to distinguish two types of contradiction—antagonistic and non-antagonistic—and to find, for the second type, methods of resolution that do not proceed by the suppression of one side but by the transformation of the relation between the sides: “unity—criticism—unity,” “cure the sickness to save the patient,” the deliberate cultivation of the identity between the opposites so that the contradiction can be resolved without the destruction of either side. In that concrete setting, a one-sided emphasis on struggle, transplanted from a different setting, would have been disastrous: it would have turned non-antagonistic contradictions into antagonistic ones and treated the people as the enemy.

Stalin’s 1938 text was written for a different setting—the transition from capitalism to socialism, the era of the intensification of class struggle on a world scale, the construction of socialism in one country under encirclement. In that setting, the emphasis on the absoluteness of struggle had a precise political target: the reformist and conciliationist currents that sought to dissolve class antagonism into a harmony of interests. Mao’s critique, therefore, was wrong. It is a critique of the application of a correct general principle to conditions for which its one-sided emphasis was unsuited—and it is itself an exercise of the very principle Mao was defending. As he had written twenty years earlier in On Contradiction:

“‘Opposition’ means that the two aspects of a contradiction mutually exclude or struggle against each other. ‘Complementarity’ means that under given conditions the two aspects of a contradiction become interconnected and acquire identity. And struggle is inherent in identity; without struggle there is no identity.”

That sentence is the standard against which Mao measured Stalin’s emphasis—and it is a sentence that affirms unity, not one that dissolves it.

This is the decisive point. Mao’s critique of Stalin was a critique of application under the concrete conditions of socialist China. It was not a theoretical refutation of Stalin’s formulation of the law, and it cannot be made into one. To use it as evidence against the law is to mistake the application for the principle, and to convict the principle of a fault that exists only in the sectarian’s own reading. The sectarians have not surpassed Mao; they have not even understood him. They have taken his condition-specific critique and turned it into a general indictment of the law—which is precisely what Mao, in 1937, had forbidden.

The Bolshevik Perspective on Struggle, and the Reformist Inversion

The whole political stake of the question lies here. The unity of opposites is the unity of opposites—capital and labor, socialism and capitalism, the old and the new. Unity does not soften the opposition; it locates it, specifies its conditions, and thereby makes the struggle concrete. The struggle is what drives the transformation; unity is what the struggle works upon and finally breaks. Lenin put the identity of the two moments in the sharpest possible form:

“Dialectics is the doctrine of how the opposites can be and are identical—under what conditions they are identical, becoming transformed into one another.”

The conditions are the whole point. To specify them is to make the struggle concrete; to omit them is to make it either abstract or conciliatory.

The reformist tradition inverts this. Having detached “unity” from struggle, it converts unity into a state of harmony to be preserved rather than a condition to be transformed. From this follows the entire political grammar of reformism: the harmony of interests between bourgeoisie and proletariat, compromise between the classes, the gradual amelioration of antagonism without its abolition. Lenin’s charge against the Second International was exactly this—that its theoreticians regarded development as “decrease and increase,” as “repetition,” and so left the source of motion in the shade:

“The two basic … conceptions of development (evolution) are: development as decrease and increase, as repetition, and development as a unity of opposites (the division of a unity into mutually exclusive opposites and their reciprocal relation). In the first conception of motion, self-movement, its driving force, its source, its motive, remains in the shade (or this source is made external—God, subject, etc.). In the second conception, the chief attention is directed precisely to knowledge of the source of ‘self-movement.’”

And against the first conception he insisted:

“Development is the ‘struggle’ of opposites.”

The second conception alone, he wrote, “furnishes the key to the ‘leaps,’ to the ‘break in continuity,’ to the ‘transformation into the opposite,’ to the destruction of the old and the emergence of the new.”

The sectarian claim that the unity of opposites is a “fallacy” is the reformist inversion turned inside out. Reformism keeps “unity” and cancels struggle; the sectarian keeps an abstract “struggle” and cancels unity. Both proceed from the same premise: that unity and struggle cannot inhabit a single concept, that one must be sacrificed to the other. Both thereby destroy the law. For struggle without unity has no concrete object—it becomes a posture, a ritual of denunciation, a refusal to analyze the conditions under which the enemy actually exists and can actually be defeated. And unity without struggle has no motive force—it becomes the harmony of the reformists. The Bolshevik conception refuses both mutilations: it holds that struggle is absolute because unity is relative, and that unity is analyzable because it is the concrete terrain of struggle. This is what distinguishes Marxism-Leninism from every variety of conciliationism—and from every variety of sectarian posturing that mistakes its own abstract militancy for rigor.

Conclusion

The theory of the unity of opposites is not a fallacy, and the argument that it is, constitutes the real sophistry. It is a sophistry because it trades on the equivocation between the formal-logical and the dialectical senses of “contradiction,” because it isolates one moment of a law and declares the whole law invalid, and because it performs this operation in the service of a political posture that avoids the concrete analysis of concrete conditions—which is precisely what the law demands. Lenin named that demand the living soul of Marxism:

“The most essential thing in Marxism, the living soul of Marxism, is the concrete analysis of concrete conditions.”

The sectarianism that declares the law a fallacy has, by that very act, exempted itself from the demand.

Nor is Mao’s critique of Stalin correct on this basis. Mao’s critique of Stalin was condition-blind: it disregarded the different concrete conditions of the USSR in the 1930s and China in 1957. It does not and cannot apply to the Soviets, for whom Stalin’s emphasis on the absoluteness of struggle was the correct application of the law under the conditions of capitalist encirclement and the struggle against reformism. It may have had a temporary validity for China, under China’s conditions, in the period of socialist construction. But it cannot be generalized into a refutation of the law, and it cannot be used to convict Stalin of neglecting “unity”—because the unity of opposites is the struggle of opposites, and Stalin’s emphasis on struggle was an emphasis on the content of the unity.

The sectarians have taken a condition-specific critique, detached it from its conditions, and converted it into a general indictment of the law. That is the ideological operation, and it is against that operation, and not against the law, that the argument of this article is directed.

The unity of opposites is the struggle of opposites; the law stands; and the claim that it is a fallacy is the sophistry of those who would rather denounce than analyze.

Erdogan A

October 25,2026

 

Note on the quotations used

Mao: On Contradiction (opening thesis on the law of contradiction as the fundamental law; the passage on “opposition”/“complementarity” and the inherence of struggle in identity); the 1957 critique of Stalin (Moscow meeting of Communist and Workers’ Parties); the “five fingers” passage on all things being the unity of opposites.

Marx: The Poverty of Philosophy (“coexistence … struggle … fusion into a new category—that is the essence of dialectics”).

Engels: Anti-Dühring (“motion itself is a contradiction”).

Lenin: On the Question of Dialectics (unity conditional/struggle absolute; the splitting of a single whole as the essence of dialectics; the two conceptions of development; “development is the struggle of opposites”); Philosophical Notebooks (dialectics as the doctrine of how opposites can be and are identical); the formulation on the concrete analysis of concrete conditions.

Stalin: Dialectical and Historical Materialism (internal contradictions as the internal content of development); the caution against “getting carried away with the unity of opposites” as Hegelian terminology, used here in its political-functional sense as a guard against conciliationism.

Kaganovich: speech on the tenth anniversary of the Institute of Red Professors (the Party-language meaning of the unity of opposites as the conquest of difficulties).

 

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