Revolution (n.) worthy of the name does not just fulfill old dreams; it reinvents the very way people dream.
Revolution (n.) intoxicates, Bataille feared, but afterward the world remakes itself and what oppresses us returns in some other form.
Revolution (n.) never finds its right moment by waiting: only premature attempts, and their failure, create the conditions for the right one.
Revolution (n.) is not gradual progress, in Kierkegaardian terms, but repetition — a movement of beginning again and again from the zero-point.
A Revolution (n.) can only come 'at the right moment' after premature, failed attempts — so whoever opposes premature seizures of power opposes revolution as such, wanting a 'revolution without revolution'.
A Revolution (n.) proves itself authentic by the very fact that its creative explosion had to be stifled — like the first year after 1979 in Iran, when everything seemed possible.
Revolution (n.) demands its real work the morning after: not preparing the explosion but remaining faithful to it once "it is accomplished."
Revolution (n.) redeems the past by repeating it, for Benjamin: the task is to unearth the emancipatory potential the last revolution betrayed.
Revolution (n.) dies when talk turns to the stages of socialism; authentic revolution happens in an absolute Present, the unconditional urgency of Now.
Revolution (n.) without a reformation is a modern folly: you cannot change a corrupt constitution while leaving its religion untouched.
A Revolution (n.) is measured not by the sublime awe of its ecstatic moments but by what the big Event changes in everyday life, the day after the insurrection.
Revolution (n.) in an art lies not in the showy moves meant to be noticed but in how it handles the ordinary — the anonymous building, the everyday conversation.
A Revolution (n.) in Reds becomes a metaphor for the successful sexual encounter: real sex has to be sustained by the screen of the October Revolution — not 'Close your eyes and think of England!' but 'Close your eyes and think of the October Revolution!'
Revolution (n.) happens only in the interstices of History, against the current: revolutionaries wait for the brief moment when power lies in the street, seize it, and are entrenched before the majority sobers up.
A Revolution (n.) for Benjamin is a creationist act, an intrusion of the death drive: it erases the winners' Text and creates a new one in which history's scum is redeemed, or, if it fails, even the dead die a second death.
A Revolution (n.) is not a return of the repressed: the symptoms are the past failed revolts, and the revolution is the attempt to redeem them, so they become retroactively what they already were — the past it leaps into 'comes from the future'.
Revolution (n.) is never simply the overturning or doing away with the existing order. It is, indeed, a suspension of goal-orientated instrumental activity, but must then be followed upon by the imposition of a new order based on revolutionary principles.
Revolution (n.) is a kind of 'infinite judgement' that keeps on applying the lessons of the revolution to itself. Any bureaucratic implementation of the revolution amounts to a radical questioning of the revolution's own assumptions, the field in which the original decision took place.