Over the past three centuries, the idea of progress has served as the foundation of all major political ideologies and, more broadly, of political theory itself. At its core was the conviction that human reason could transform the world, creating better conditions for human life and society. Progress encompassed multiple dimensions: technical innovation rooted in scientific discovery and the educational advances that made it possible; the rational organization of society through law and professional bureaucracy; economic improvement via cost optimization and the generation of greater added value; and the transformation of international relations through rational international law, offering a potential solution to the problem of war. Ultimately, it promised the emergence of a new human being—liberated from irrational customs and prejudices, endlessly striving for new heights. The idea of progress first underpinned liberal theory and was later adopted and significantly reworked by socialism. Liberalism and socialism offered competing visions of progress, yet its fundamental value remained the bedrock of both. Even conservatism, while rejecting radical social engineering, was forced to reckon with the concept: ideas of cautious, organic, or evolutionary progress were born precisely within conservative thought.
With the end of the Cold War, the theme of progress seemed, at first glance, to fade. But today it is clearly visible in several major political projects. Trump seeks to keep the keys to progress firmly in American hands. Xi’s doctrine says: one cannot develop at China’s expense; one can develop together with China. Putin’s doctrine is “Fortress Russia”—independent, without grandiose global ambitions, yet determined to hold its own keys to the future.
The Persian Gulf crisis suddenly made the Iranian model obvious to many: progress for the sake of survival while cultivating a return to roots has found clear expression here. Various other models will likely emerge in great diversity. They will all be united by the same desire to be faster, higher, and stronger. However, none of these models, at their core, resolve the problem of human progress. Alienation is only growing. AI and digitalization have made it possible to “squeeze” people to an unprecedented degree. Their personal freedom and autonomy are diminishing more and more rapidly. Demographic trends in developing countries are converging with Western ones where Western standards of social progress are achieved. In other words, they, too, are approaching the “mouse utopia” trap. So far, no new doctrine offers systemic solutions. While Marxism systematically addressed the problem of alienation in the 19th century, today the niche remains vacant.
The idea of progress has long stood at the heart of a wide variety of political doctrines. Faster, higher, stronger—this sporting motto could be applied universally to any sphere of life. It is no coincidence that the Olympic Games were revived precisely at the turn of the 20th century, when faith in progress was being reinforced by achievements on an unprecedented scale. The revival was a reconstruction of the spirit of the age, elegantly framed against the backdrop of Ancient Greece. The imperative of progress still shapes the smallest details of our lives—from KPIs and performance reports to the very meaning of existence: higher income, greater status, expanded influence, and so on. Yet the idea of progress has always been accompanied by reflection on its dangers. The concept of alienation emerged as the concentrated expression of progress’s dark side, ultimately signifying the loss of self and, with it, the loss of any deeper meaning to progress itself. In contemporary political debates, both progress and alienation have receded into the background amid the noise of postmodern simulations. Reality, however, will compel us to revisit them.
Over the past three centuries, the idea of progress has served as the foundation of all major political ideologies and, more broadly, of political theory itself. At its core was the conviction that human reason could transform the world, creating better conditions for human life and society. Progress encompassed multiple dimensions: technical innovation rooted in scientific discovery and the educational advances that made it possible; the rational organization of society through law and professional bureaucracy; economic improvement via cost optimization and the generation of greater added value; and the transformation of international relations through rational international law, offering a potential solution to the problem of war. Ultimately, it promised the emergence of a new human being—liberated from irrational customs and prejudices, endlessly striving for new heights. The idea of progress first underpinned liberal theory and was later adopted and significantly reworked by socialism. Liberalism and socialism offered competing visions of progress, yet its fundamental value remained the bedrock of both. Even conservatism, while rejecting radical social engineering, was forced to reckon with the concept: ideas of cautious, organic, or evolutionary progress were born precisely within conservative thought.
Reality itself provided rich material for the idea of progress. It was reshaped by that idea, and in turn gave it fresh impetus. Humanity has made extraordinary strides. Over the past three hundred years, people have come to live far longer, eat better, and enjoy vastly improved clothing and shelter. Levels of comfort once unimaginable have become widespread. Knowledge has expanded dramatically, production has reached astonishing volumes, and information now proliferates at an exponential rate. The list of achievements is long—and continues to grow.
Yet every advance has had its shadow. First, progress generated serious threats. By extending life, it also perfected methods of mass killing, tested in wars and advanced weaponry. It deepened inequality and oppression. In international affairs, those who first seized the advantages of progress often suppressed or destroyed those who lagged behind or refused to follow. Nuclear weapons and the ever-present risk of their use became the ultimate symbol of this paradox: a force created to improve life now capable of destroying it.
Second, there is the problem of progress’s infinite nature and uncertain purpose. What is its endpoint and is it even conceivable? Is the “end of history” possible? This question appears in concepts ranging from Fukuyama’s now-familiar thesis to the Marxist vision of communism—both, at root, depictions of history reaching its culmination in an ideal society. Yet the end never arrives. Progress becomes an end in itself, a self-perpetuating force. If it is truly endless, what is the point? The pragmatic answer has always been that we cannot stop—because others will not. To pause is to invite destruction at the hands of the more “progressive.” But this reduces progress to mere survival of the fittest, undermining its original promise to elevate human life and human beings as intrinsic values.
Third, and perhaps most profoundly, comes the issue of alienation. Questions about how progress distorts human nature predate the great breakthroughs of the 19th and 20th centuries—think, for instance, of early debates on the corrupting effects of private property. The decisive contribution came with the materialist theory of alienation developed by Marx and his followers. They focused primarily on the economic dimension: the worker produces more than he receives, with the surplus appropriated by the owner, generating inequality that would eventually doom capitalism. Liberals countered, with some justification, that this appropriation was the price of risk—the capitalist stakes the entire enterprise, while the worker risks only his wages.
Yet the concept of alienation proved far richer. A major breakthrough occurred at the intersection of Marxism and psychoanalysis. Modern rationalized society, with its standardization and efficient mechanisms of repression, alienates people not merely from the fruits of their labor but from themselves. It erodes their vital instincts. Humanity risks becoming what George Calhoun called a “mouse utopia,” where material abundance leads to the loss of instincts, degeneration, and eventual extinction. The destruction of the life instinct does not eliminate the death instinct: progress leaves people as dangerous, aggressive animals, fully capable of destroying others and themselves.
With the end of the Cold War, the theme of progress seemed, at first glance, to fade. In the contest between two visions of progress, the liberal variant appeared victorious. The necessity of progress itself was never questioned, but its very ordinariness diminished its mobilizing power. It had become routine. The clash of grand modernist ideologies gave way to postmodern simulations. This was tolerable during the relatively stable period of the late 20th and early 21st centuries, when one could comfortably be “sort of” left or “sort of” right. Ideological brands drifted ever further from their original content; liberals, socialists, and conservatives increasingly became informational phantoms of a previous era.
Today the situation is changing. The idea of progress is reasserting itself forcefully, though it still resists easy categorization within existing ideological frameworks. It is clearly visible in several major political projects of our time.
The Trump Doctrine places progress at its core, yet defines it strictly in terms of American national interest. It is not intended for all humanity, but for the prosperity of the United States. Trump makes no apology for the fact that American growth may come at others’ expense. He breaks decisively with predecessors who spoke of global goods. Might is right, and progress is the essential precondition of strength. Yesterday the race was for steel production; today it is for dominance in AI and emerging technologies. The tools have changed, but the logic remains. Trump seeks to keep the keys to progress firmly in American hands. America First.
The Xi Jinping Doctrine reflects China’s dramatic leaps forward in every sphere. Here, the Marxist idea of progress merges with China’s deep civilizational code. Progress remains central to Chinese political identity. Once a largely internal phenomenon of limited global reach, it has now become a direct challenge to the Trump Doctrine. The United States may grow richer at others’ expense, but it finds this increasingly difficult with China. Beijing is ever more capable of producing virtually anything made elsewhere. Externally, China offers initiatives for shared development and progress on more equal terms—rhetorically distinguishing Xi’s approach from Trump’s. In essence: one cannot develop at China’s expense; one can develop together with China. Yet China retains its own sovereign keys to progress.
The Putin Doctrine arises from Russia’s traumatic experience following the collapse of the Soviet progressive project. The fear of disintegration and catastrophe became deeply embedded in Russian identity. The loss of “old Europe” as a perceived engine of progress was equally shocking. In its place, Russia saw something resembling Calhoun’s “mouse utopia”—and recognized elements of it within itself. This has driven sometimes awkward but organic efforts to reaffirm traditional values and to redefine Russia as a distinct state-civilization. These attempts remain imperfect and in need of refinement, yet they reflect genuine necessity rather than mere political technology. In simplified terms, Putin’s approach resembles that of Peter the Great: progress imposed by the harsh necessity of external competition. The result is “Fortress Russia”—independent, without grandiose global ambitions, yet determined to hold its own keys to the future.
A similar logic applies to Europe. The European Union was, in both spirit and substance, a profoundly progressive project—a triumph of rational institutional design at certain point. Remarkably, it achieved this without fully possessing its own independent keys to progress, relying heavily on the United States. The calm international environment of the late 20th and early 21st centuries made this possible. That era has ended. The United States is pulling back, China is autonomous, and Russia is both independent and adversarial. The growing appeal of right-wing conservatism in Europe, with its blunt slogan that “things cannot go on as before,” signals the exhaustion of the old model. Europe is now searching, sometimes painfully, for a new one—and it will hardly be liked by everyone.
Of course, others are proposing and testing their own doctrines and algorithms. Narendra Modi’s doctrine in India emphasizes progress in the service of social development. Yet it goes beyond quality-of-life improvements. India is forging its own distinctive model of managing progress across domains—from AI and digitalization to rocketry and space exploration. It neither copies Trump’s approach nor follows China’s path, nor does it retreat into “Fortress India.” Out of the apparent chaos of Indian life, a unique synthesis of order and progress is emerging.
The Persian Gulf crisis suddenly made the Iranian model obvious to many: progress for the sake of survival while cultivating a return to roots has found clear expression here. Various other models will likely emerge in great diversity. They will all be united by the same desire to be faster, higher, and stronger. However, none of these models, at their core, resolve the problem of human progress. Alienation is only growing. AI and digitalization have made it possible to “squeeze” people to an unprecedented degree. Their personal freedom and autonomy are diminishing more and more rapidly. Demographic trends in developing countries are converging with Western ones where Western standards of social progress are achieved. In other words, they, too, are approaching the “mouse utopia” trap. So far, no new doctrine offers systemic solutions. While Marxism systematically addressed the problem of alienation in the 19th century, today the niche remains vacant.
First published in the Valdai Discussion Club.