Why was that? “The totalitarian phenomenon,” Revel observed years ago, “is not to be understood without making an allowance for the thesis that some important part of every society consists of people who actively want tyranny: either to exercise it themselves or—much more mysteriously—to submit to it.”

It was a temptation that proved to be remarkably resilient. Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, the once fellow-traveling European left had no choice but to admit that the god to which it had long rendered faithful service had been an illusion, and incurably dysfunctional to boot. Yet that grudging concession, as Revel observed, did little to chasten the former groupies of totalitar ianism. On the contrary, it served as a springboard for a fresh assault on liberal-democratic principles.

The tipping point, in Revel’s view, was the publication in 1997 of “The Black Book of Communism,” an 800-page compendium of the serial barbarities of communist regimes from China and Ethiopia to Russia and Cambodia. This massive scholarly undertaking, meticulous in its research and incontrovertible in its findings, was instantly greeted with fury by much of the French intelligentsia, which refused to accept that its own eyes-wide-shut apologetics for the likes of Mao, Mengistu, Stalin and Pol Pot were no less a form of complicity in mass murder than Holocaust denial.

Nor could this same intelligentsia acknowledge that the collapse of communism was the supreme vindication for Cold War anticommunists such as Revel, long reviled as a political paranoid and closet fascist. Instead, the left’s new refrain was that, whatever the excesses of communism, they were as nothing next to those of “liberal totalitarianism” and “savage capitalism.” Communism, in this view, more than redeemed itself through its aspirations for social justice. And to the extent that actual Communist regimes—namely, all of them—fell short of that ideal, it merely proved that they hadn’t been Communist to begin with!

Of this mental fortress, Revel acidly writes: “Utopia is not under the slightest obligation to produce results: its sole function is to allow its devotees to condemn what exists in the name of what does not.” Thus the political collapse of communism offered members of the hard left an avenue of ideological resurrection, since they could return to their favorite pastime of lambasting globalization and other American conspiracies to enslave the world without having to suffer any unpalatable reminders of some of the alternatives—the Berlin Wall, for instance.

Then again, this approach, by underscoring the far left’s protectionist and xenophobic impulses, also served to expose its historic kinship with the far right. Here Revel instructively reprises the Nazis’ profound debt to Marxism (Hitler once described himself as “not merely the vanquisher of Marxism [but also] its implementer”) as well as to the anti-Semitic and racist dogmas of Karl Marx. “What is the worldly religion of the Jew?” Marx asked. “Huckstering. What is his God? Money.” Communism, according to its founding father, “would make the Jew impossible.”

Revel’s analysis helps to make sense of the latest version of the totalitarian temptation, this time the temptation of radical Islam (though “Last Exit to Utopia” does not explicitly broach the subject). Strange as it may seem, today’s Western “progressives,” whose domestic political fixations include gay marriage and abortion rights, nonetheless frequently find themselves making common cause with Muslim fanatics for whom such things are anathema.

This seemingly strange affiliation has partly to do with a shared loathing, among radical leftists and radical Islamists, of the U.S. and Israel. But as Revel astutely notes, the deeper bond is what he calls the “excommunication of modernity,” a mark of the left going back to the primitivist and anti-civilizational musings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The Islamists understand this commonality as well: Among the doctrinal sources cited by Osama bin Laden, one finds not only the Quran but also the works of Noam Chomsky.

Anyone who thinks the totalitarian temptation lies buried in Lenin’s mausoleum would do well to read this book, a fitting literary capstone in the career of one of France’s true immortals.

Mr. Stephens is the Journal’s foreign-affairs columnist and a deputy editorial page editor.