Soviet Politics The Dilemma Of Power

125291

Soviet Politics-

The Dilemma of Power

Soviet Politics-
The Dilemma
of Power

THE ROLE OF IDEAS IN SOCIAL CHANGE

o

By Barrington Moore Jr

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge • Massachusetts

1950

TOE.C.M.

Preface

Dr. Moore's book is a distinguished contribution both to the
understanding of Soviet society and to the development of a
more mature social science. Although his book is remarkable
for the breadth and depth of its coverage of published materials,
Russian and non-Russian, most of his sources will be familiar
to scholars specializing on the Soviet Union. What is new is
the conceptual framework in which these data are assayed and
interpreted. This framework is neither pretentious nor formalistic.
But Dr. Moore draws discriminatingly upon the relevant content
and ideas of history, political science, economics, psychology,
sociology, and philosophy. He ranges from the classic works of
Sumner, Pareto, Sorel, and Weber to the most recent studies in
perceptual psychology and culture and personality. Nor is the
result a watery eclecticism. No conceptual instrument is dragged
in just because it is in fashion at the moment or to achieve an
artificial completeness. The test is consistently: Is this idea use-
ful in helping us to understand the concrete problems at hand?
No single factor is made to explain everything, but each is
utilized legitimately to explain something. The argument of the
book is therefore as complex as it is cautious and poised. The
reader who recognizes the intricacy of the issues and the im-
possibility of magic formulas will applaud the balance and sanity
of the treatment and respect the modesty of the conclusions—
for example, those concerning the probability of war between
the United States and the Soviet Union.

The Soviet materials are employed as a highly pertinent case
history bearing on one of the oldest but still most urgent problems
in an over-all theory of human behavior: What is the role of
ideas in action, particularly political action? Specifically: Which
of the prerevolutionary Bolshevik ideas have been put into effect
in the Soviet Union, which ones set aside, and why? The setting

of the stage at the time of the Revolution is carefully examined,
both in terms of Communist theory and in terms of the nature of
Russian society at that time. The march of events, inside and
outside Russia, is then scrutinized and related to constancy and
change in the ideological line. Economic factors, the person-
alities of leaders, international pressures, historical accidents, the
perduring aspects of traditional Russian culture— all are given
a due examination. Especially searching and original is the study
of the situational determinants of action: the dilemma of author-
ity, the psychological dimensions and social structure of power
cliques, the effects of the failure of the Communist revolution in
Germany. One of Dr. Moore's most brilliant points, and an ex-
cellent example of his capacity as an integrator, is the critical
analysis he makes alike of the Marxist and of the currently fash-
ionable "culture and personality" approaches:

The weakness of these two approaches is that they take but little
cognizance of the structure of the international arena in which the
clash of national interests takes place. The difficulty is the same as
that which beset psychology when it tried to explain human behavior
by studying the individual in vacua, without perceiving the society in
which the individual lived. For certain purposes it is of course legiti-
mate and desirable to study as independent entities either the balance
of power or the domestic determinants of political behavior in a par-
ticular state. But to understand international politics, an approach is
necessary that will combine the two areas of inquiry and assign a
correct weight to the conclusions drawn from each.

This book is likewise most informative on another perennial
question: To what extent is it possible to create a new social
order? Dr. Moore skillfully analyzes the Russian case, showing
how the rationally, and indeed idealistically, conceived doc-
trines of Marx and Lenin had to be modified as they were ground
out in practice against the stubborn and irreducible facts of his-
tory, culture, and recurrent human situations. A full-bodied pic-
ture of the limitations and possibilities of directed social change
emerges.

Dr. Moore makes no pretensions to a complete integration of
the social sciences. He consciously avoids premature synthesis,
needless abstraction, grand schematization with symmetries that

A /t?/uc;e? XI

are merely logical (or pseudo-logical). But he sets an admirable
standard in making his assumptions and his whole modest the-
oretical structure explicit and hence subject to rational criticism.
He draws wisely and with enormous versatility on the arsenal of
contemporary social science. What he selects he binds together
as tightly as is justified in the present state of our ignorance.
His final theoretical product is a distinct creation which opens
new roads for the study of the psychology and sociology of
power, the anthropology and philosophy of ideology, and the
political theory that emerges from intellectual history. The frame-
work of this book is not bounded by arbitrary disciplinary lines.
Indeed, it is difficult to point to another of which one could say
with as much correctness, "Here basic social science has been
achieved." In a sense, Dr. Moore's book is more than an approxi-
mation to a generalized social science, for it is informed also by
the humanistic tradition. He realizes that only relatively tiny
areas of human behavior can at present be treated with mechani-
cal rigor. The broad canvas of Soviet Politics here receives help-
ful illumination generated by scrupulous workmanship, catholic
scholarship, and theory which rises above common sense but yet
remains intimately tied to experience.

CLYDE KLUCKHOHN

A cknowledgments

It is a pleasant custom in the community of scholars to thank
those who have rendered help and to absolve them of sins com-
mitted by the author. My debts are many and cannot be repaid
by a ritual obeisance here.

The Russian Research Center of Harvard University, sup-
ported by the Carnegie Corporation of New York, has provided
the great boons of freedom from interruption, stimulating fellow
workers, and excellent assistance in preparing the manuscript
during an entire academic year. I wish to express my apprecia-
tion to Professor Clyde Kluckhohn, Director of the Center, who,
in addition to writing the Preface, has ever given me generous
and sustained encouragement.

Another debt I owe to the University of Chicago, which freed
me from teaching duties for several months. I should like also
to thank the Social Science Research Committee at the Uni-
versity of Chicago, which, through the generosity of the Rocke-
feller Foundation, gave me a grant to cover a portion of the re-
search and clerical assistance at a certain stage of writing this
study.

My colleagues at both institutions and in the wartime fed-
eral service have taught me much, and most when I have en-
tirely disagreed with them, Professors Michael Karpovich and
Merle Fainsod of Harvard, Hans Morgenthau of Chicago, Walde-
mar Gurian of Notre Dame, Philip Mosely of Columbia, and
Isaiah Berlin of Oxford have generously given me the benefit
of their specialized information, and the impact of their com-
ments may be found in many of my interpretations. Since I have
resisted their suggestions at other points, they bear no responsi-
bility for the vagaries of this book.

To Professor Albert G. Keller of Yale I owe not only my
original training in the social sciences, but also my interest in

xiv Acknowledgments

Russian affairs. He encouraged me a decade and a half ago to
begin by learning the language, and has always shown a fatherly
tolerance for our differences of opinion.

Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following publishers
for permission to reprint excerpts from copyrighted materials:
Harper and Brothers, for use of Leon Trotsky, Stalin (copyright,
1941); The Macmillan Company, for use of F. S. C. Northrop,
The Meeting of East and West (copyright, 1946); Charles Scrib-
ner's Sons, for use of Leon Trotsky, My Life (copyright, 1930);
The American Political Science Review, for use of my article,
"The Influence of Ideas on Policies as Shown in the Collectiviza-
tion of Agriculture in Russia," August 1947 (copyright, 1947).

In the final stages of preparing this manuscript a number of
persons at the Harvard University Press and the Russian Re-
search Center have given me valuable assistance. Mrs. Helen W.
Parsons, Administrative Assistant to the Director of the Center,
has never failed to supply help and advice beyond the scope of
her official duties. Mrs, Mildred S. Shade, Secretary to the Di-
rector of the Center, has greatly eased my task by providing an
accurate typescript, Another member of the Center's staff, Mrs.
Helen Constantine, has assisted at various points by typing and
reading proof. The main burden of proofreading has fallen upon
my wife, Elizabeth C. Moore, and Mr. Robert A. Feldmesser,
Research Assistant at the Center. To all of the above my whole-
hearted thanks are but a scanty reward for their labors.

Throughout the entire writing of this book my wife has drawn
upon an unending supply of understanding and patience to help
me cope with the doubts and perplexities aroused by the ap-
parent irreconcilables of the Soviet scene. In addition, she has
cheerfully contributed her varied skills in criticizing and editing
the manuscript, as well as in compiling the index. It is with the
warmest affection that I acknowledge her large share in the
making of this book.

HARRINGTON MOORE, JR.
Cambridge
June 1950

Contents

Introduction: The Problem and Its

Setting 1

PART ONE

LENINIST THEORY AND PRACTICE
BEFORE THE REVOLUTION

1 How an Ideology Emerged 19

Russian society and the hypothesis of the inevitable revolu-
tion, 19; Authoritarian and democratic trends in Bolshevik
theory, 28

2 Leniri*s Plans for the New Society 38

The affirmation and denial of authority, 39; The problem
of status in economic affairs, 42; Plans tor the peasants, 46;
Revolution and international affairs, 51; Main points of the
Leninist program, 57

3 The Party Faces the Dilemma of Means

and Ends 59

Why the route of conspiracy? 59; The ambivalent attitude
toward the masses, 61; Democratic centralism: the answer
to the problem of authority? 64; Terror and violence in
Leninist theory, 71; Contrast between theory and practice,
72

PART TWO

THE DILEMMA OF AUTHORITY FROM LENIN
TO STALIN

4 Victory Creates Dilemmas 85

The problems faced, 85; Early controversies and solutions,
87; War Communism: main road or detour? 89; Retreat to
the NEP, 93

xvi Contents

5 Alternative Solutions 97

The legacy of Lenin, 97; The Trotskyite solution, 98;
Bukharin's solution, 102; Stalin's solution, 108; The role of
ideology in factional struggles, 113

/ 6 Political Dynamics: Who Shall

Command? 117

General factors, 117; The elimination of political competi-
tors, 118; The doctrine and organization of terror, 124;
Problems of mass support: the Soviets, 128

7 The Transformation of the Rulers 139

The theory of decision-making: democratic centralism, 139;
Actual patterns of decision-making, 140; The taming of
the rank and file, 146; Conflicting conceptions of rule, 152

8 The Mythology of Status and the New
Bureaucracy 159

Early rumblings, 159; Decision-making: inequalities of
power, 164; Role of the equalitarian myth in the execution
of decisions, 169; The doctrine of no class struggle, 176;
The repudiation of equality, 182

9 Revolution and World Politics 189

The pattern of world politics, 189; The impact of political
responsibility, 191; Revolutionary hopes and disappoint-
ments, 195; Marx or Machiavelh'? 202; Anti-imperialism:
the convergence of doctrine and expediency, 211; Conclu-
sions, 214

PART THREE
TODAY'S DILEMMA

10 New Wine in Old Bottles: The Stalinist

Theory of Equality 221

The justification of coercion, 222; Freedom and the in-
dividual's role in society, 224; Relations of leaders and
masses, 228; The ideology of inequality, 236

Contents xvii

11 The Organization of Authority . 247

Selection of leaders: the elective principle, 247; Selection
of leaders: the appointive principle, 254; Changes in the
composition and recruitment of the elite, 256; Formulation
of national policy, 260; Formulation of local policy, 269;
Popular checks on the policy-makers, 274

12 The Bureaucratic State 277

Status in the bureaucratic system, 277; Policy execution and
the vested interest in confusion, 286; Consequences, 295

13 The Industrial Order: Stalin and

Adam Smith 298

The problem and the Marxist answer, 298; Who decides
what to produce? 300; Position and motivations of the
Soviet manager, 302; The collectivization of thrift, 308;
Distribution, 311; Summary and conclusions, 315

14 The Class Struggle in a Socialist Society 317

Wages and the claim of class peace, 317; Labor-manage-
ment bargaining in the USSR, 320; Labor-management rela-
tions within the plant, 323; Power relationships within the
unions, 327; Conclusions, 331

15 Revolution from Above: The Transfor-
mation of the Peasantry 332

Collectivization and directed social change, 332; Selection
of leadership, 334; Formulation and execution of policy,
336; Incentives and status differentials, 340; Divisive tend-
encies and evaluation, 342

16 The Pattern of Soviet Foreign Policy 350

General considerations, 350; Power politics calls the tune,
352; The search for allies, 355; Suspicions among allies,
360; New partners, 362; Old partners, 366; New patterns
of power, 370

17 The Relations of Ideology and Foreign
Policy 384

The impact of experience on behavior and doctrine, 384;
The impact of doctrine on behavior, 390; Some prospects,
394

xviii Contents

18 Conclusions and Implications 40*

Major features of ideological and social change in the
USSR, 402; Implications for modern industrial society, 405;
Are there limits to ideological change? 412; The natural
history of a successful protest movement, 418

Notes 4 2 f>

Bibliography 46$

Index

Soviet Politics-

T/ie Dilemma of Power

INTRODUCTION

The Problem and Its Setting

Man has been concerned with the role of ideas in the shaping of
human behavior ever since the first member of the species
attempted to influence the behavior of another by exhortation
instead of by blows. Throughout the centuries and in modern
times a wide variety of views has been presented on this subject.
Insofar as they concern the Soviet Union, one may note two
contrasting interpretations of the relationship between Leninist
doctrine and Soviet political behavior, both of which have found
wide circulation.

One view holds that Stalin is a practical realist, who has un-
ceremoniously tossed Marxism overboard. This view raises at
once the difficult question: do not realists have ideas about the
world in which they live and function so effectively? And may
not these ideas have a very definite bearing on the actions taken
by a so-called realist? The opposite interpretation declares that
the fundamental goals of Soviet policy have remained essentially
the same since their formulation by Lenin, and that all subse-
quent modifications have been mere tactical detours on the road
to the same goal. This view in turn raises the question of how
many detours it is possible to make without getting lost, or at
least without losing sight of the original goal.

The present study will attempt to provide more tenable an-
swers to the problem of the interaction between Communist
ideology and certain Soviet political practices. Insofar as this
book is a study of a particular social system, it belongs in
the familiar tradition of social morphology, along with other
interpretative accounts of the social behavior and institutions
of the peoples of the world. By the same token, it is an essay in
applied social science, an effort to explain in systematic and

2 Introduction

general terms the relationship between various aspects of a going
social system.

There is also a secondary objective. The record of the rela-
tionship between doctrine and practice in the Soviet Union
provides an opportunity to test prevailing general theories concern-
ing the role of ideas in organized human behavior. In this re-
spect, as the subtitle indicates, this work is a case study con-
cerned with the more general problem of the significance of
ideas and ideals in social change.

It seems desirable at this point to mention some of the limita-
tions and advantages of this approach.1 To do so it is necessary
to raise certain questions regarding the role of theory and logical
methods in the study of human affairs.

Not very many years ago the student of human affairs was
advised to gather the facts conscientiously and to let them speak
for themselves. Much labor was expended by the followers of
this advice, labor that was by no means without result. The
method, however, had its limitations, a point which it is now fash-
ionable to demonstrate. Newton certainly did not discover the
law of gravitation through a carefully collected series of facts about
falling apples. The procedure of letting the facts speak for them-
selves, it is pointed out, leads to a situation in which the in-
vestigator has no criteria except his unstated prejudices and as-
sumptions for gathering the facts. It would be far better if the
assumptions and possible prejudices were brought out into the
open where they might be examined.

In a reaction against the older view, the opinion has come to
prevail in certain quarters that the student of human society
ought not to proceed to an examination of the facts until he has
perfected a theoretical system with a chain of theorems and hy-
potheses, whose final links can be tested against the data. Though
the critics of the older view make a valid point, these modern
proponents of a strict scientific methodology sometimes overlook
important matters.

In this connection it is well to remind ourselves of one gen-
eral point, in the form of a logical difficulty that is passed over
rather lightly by both the newer and the older schools, though

The Problem and Its Setting 3

it is relevant to both their claims. While one may disprove a
theory by testing it against the facts, it is impossible to satisfy
the requirements of logical proof by such testing. Strictly speak-
ing, there is no such thing as verification by experiment. The
agreement between the results of an experiment and one's ex-
pectations based upon theory does not exclude the possibility
that the theory is wrong, and that a totally different theory is re-
quired. The behavior of the sun at sunrise and sunset may be
accounted for by the theory that the earth is stationary on its
axis. The hypothesis can be "verified" by repeated experiment
and still be incorrect. Although some social scientists (for ex-
ample, Pareto) are familiar with this elementary difficulty, it is
not infrequently neglected in appeals to social scientists to fol-
low the paths of the natural sciences.

It is pointed out correctly by the advocates of a theoretical
approach that hypotheses act as searchlights, illuminating the
field of inquiry to bring out the facts that are significant and
that would otherwise be neglected. One may continue the figure,
however, by pointing out that searchlights and hypotheses may
have a blinding effect as well. The investigator who is out to
prove or disprove a given hypothesis is likely to pass over un-
awares a number of facts that suggest an altogether different
interpretation of the problem at hand. Even an undogmatic
Freudian who set out to explain Soviet foreign policy might look
intently for factors affecting the personality of the leaders and
pay inadequate or no attention to such matters as geography
and history. Someone else interested in certain economic hy-
potheses might neglect altogether the role of the leaders of the
Soviet state. Up to a certain point such approaches are necessary
and perhaps inevitable in the light of the human limitations of
any single investigator. These remarks are not intended as a
plea against the role of theory in the social sciences. They are
a plea in favor of investigators with many and even inconsistent
theories.

Another objection that may legitimately be raised against an
undue preoccupation with theory at the outset of an inquiry is
that it often tends to deflect the student from the task at hand.

4 Introduction

So much time is spent on the elaboration of theory that the
investigator never approaches the data. At times the German
philosophical tradition has led to a situation where it appears
necessary to know everything before one can know anything.
The result, more often than not, is scientific sterility.

A further difficulty in the way of a precise theoretical ap-
proach is that the data of human behavior are seldom amenable
to strict logical treatment, since a large portion of the most sig-
nificant questions are not subject to experimental procedures.
One cannot put the Roman Empire in a test tube, add a dash
of Christianity, and watch to see whether it rises or falls. This
well-known situation is regrettable from the point of view of
theory, but it is one that has to be faced and dealt with in vari-
ous ways, if we are not to leave the analysis of human behavior to
the soothsayers. It does not mean that facts are totally irrelevant
and unusable, that all interpretations are equally tenable, and
that one man s opinion is as good as another's. It does mean that
conclusions in many important fields have to be of a more tenta-
tive nature than strict logical processes might indicate. In con-
sequence, theoretical imagination has to be directed, not so much
toward the elaboration of a single system of constructs, as toward
the elaboration of numberless alternative systems, some of which
can actually be tested by the available data.

The previous difficulty is also related to the fact that the data
of human behavior are by no means always gathered for the pur-
pose the investigator has in mind. The existence or absence of
facts is very often the result of the preservation or destruction of
documents from causes that have nothing to do with the prob-
lems to be examined.

On all these counts I have come to the conclusion that it is
advisable to plunge into the data with only the simplest and most
flexible hypotheses, together with some ideas about the ways in
which one might examine them. In practice, many investigators,
even if they start with a well-developed theoretical structure,
move back and forth between the facts and the theories, con-
tinually modifying the theories on the basis of new information
or newly perceived relationships, and turning to the facts with

The Problem and Its Setting 5

fresh insight and renewed curiosity, Perhaps most students of
society will agree that this is as it should be. If such is the case,
more fruitful and more tenable hypotheses-conclusions should
emerge at the end of a study than at the beginning.

One must recognize, in this connection, that in certain respects
the tasks of applied and theoretical sciences are mutually contra-
dictory. The applied scientist seeks to create an accurate map of
a small portion of reality. If he is an engineer building a bridge,
he wants to know all about the qualities of certain types of steel,
the behavior of currents near the banks of a river, the possibility
of high winds, and so forth. The social scientist who wishes to
explain and ultimately predict the behavior of a particular social
group will also want to learn a great deal about the specific
economic, political, and other forces that impinge upon the be-
havior of this group, its organizational features and their
capacity to resist certain types of strain, and similar mat-
ters. He is not necessarily concerned with mining facts for the
theorist to use as evidence for or against some hypothesis. On the
other hand, the theorist probably will endeavor to eliminate as
many "perturbations" and "irrelevant" factors and forces as he
can in order to reach as high a level of abstraction as possible.
The economist who wishes to construct a logically integrated
theory of economic behavior deliberately and explicitly excludes
from his considerations many aspects of human activity that are
not relevant for his purposes. The applied scientist must per-
form almost the opposite function of putting the parts back to-
gether in order to perceive the whole.

Considerations of this variety lie behind the popular distinc-
tion between a "practical" and a "theoretical" (sometimes called
an academic) approach to human affairs. In many ways the em-
phasis on a practical or strictly empirical approach to the deci-
sions that must be made about human affairs is probably benefi-
cial. Disasters would probably result if philosophers became
kings tomorrow. On the whole, fewer serious errors are made by
persons with an intuitive and pragmatic approach to politics
than by those who have a doctrinaire ax to grind. The practical
man changes his behavior rapidly in response to failure, while the

6 Introduction

doctrinaire theorist usually does not Much sympathy can be
expressed for Pareto's dictum: let us have theoretical theories
and practical practices, for practical theories and theoretical
practices are an abomination.

Yet these considerations do not exhaust the matter. The pur-
pose of theory is to relate as many facts as possible in a consistent
and orderly fashion. If the available theories will not do this,
that is not an argument against theories in general, but merely an
indication that the available theory or theories are inadequate.
Those who limit themselves to the practical approach to human
affairs are the ones who, in Veblen's words, are content to re-
peat the errors of their predecessors. If the practical attitude
had prevailed in man's approach to natural phenomena, our
knowledge would not have accumulated beyond the traditional
and stereotyped lore of the artisan, who passes a limited number
of techniques from one generation to the next. By the same token,
suspicion of theory, merely because it is theory, could effectively
prevent the development of a science of man and limit us to the
transmission of a scattered and inconsistent body of knowledge
taken from the varied insights and precepts of our ancestors.

To present a critical survey of the theories that have been
developed in the past century alone concerning the relationship
between ideas and behavior would carry us too far afield.2 In-
stead, it is sufficient for the purpose of this study to point to
the two extremes that still contend for mastery as the correct
interpretation. One, represented best by Karl Marx himself, is
familiar as the materialist interpretation of history* The other ex-
treme, which appears to be gaining favor at the moment, might
be called the "ideological" interpretation of history and finds a
definite statement in the writings of the contemporary philoso-
pher, F. S. C. Northrop, Both these writers are, of course, cau-
tious enough to repudiate any complete and universal causal
priority to either ideas or behavior. Yet even the briefest examina-
tion reveals the tremendous difference between these two view-
points.

Marx regarded ideas as a sort of secondary social phe-
nomena derived from the way in which men produced their

The Problem and Its Setting 7

means of subsistence. By the latter Marx did not mean tools
and machines alone; he included the types of social relationships
into which men entered in order to produce goods and services.3
"The production of ideas," Marx stated, "of conceptions, of con-
sciousness, is at first directly interwoven with the material ac-
tivity and the material intercourse of men, the language of real
life. Conceiving, thinking, the mental intercourse of men, appear
at this stage as the direct efflux of their material behavior/'4
There then follows the famous criticism of German idealistic
philosophy, which has become axiomatic in much subsequent
Marxist writing and thinking:

In direct contrast to German philosophy which descends from
heaven to earth, here we ascend from earth to heaven. That is to say,
we do not set out from what men say, imagine, conceive, nor from
men as narrated, thought of, imagined, conceived, in order to arrive at
men in the flesh. We set out from real active men, and on the basis
of their real life process we demonstrate the development of the
ideological reflexes and echoes of this life-process. The phantoms
formed in the human brain are also, necessarily, sublimates of their
material life-process, which is empirically verifiable and bound to
material premises. Morality, religion, metaphysics, all the rest of
ideology and their corresponding forms of consciousness, thus no
longer retain the semblance of independence.5

In this statement ideas are denied the significance of an in-
dependent variable among the numerous factors that make up
a functioning social system. Marx did not adhere rigidly, how-
ever, to this extreme viewpoint. At times he apparently regarded
this secondary role of ideas as an accurate description only for
the beginning stages of social organization, as in his remark,
quoted above, that thinking appears "at first" and "at this stage"
as the efflux of material behavior. Elsewhere he evidently recog-
nized the interaction of ideas with other social forces. In his
comments on the writing of history Marx spoke of the need for
tracing the origins and growth of religion, philosophy, and ethics,
along with production, by which social development could be
shown in its totality and "the reciprocal action of mese various
sides on one another." 6

8 Introduction

Nearly three and a half decades later Engels, in a letter, tried
to back away from the extreme position taken in The German
Ideology. "According to the materialist conception of history,"
he wrote on September 21, 1890, "the determining element in
history is ultimately the production and reproduction in real life
... If therefore somebody twists this into the statement that
the economic element is the only determining one, he transforms
it into a meaningless, abstract, and absurd phrase." Engels went
on to say that political, legal, and philosophical theories also
exercise their influence upon the course of historical struggles
and in many cases determine their form. He conceded that Marx
and he himself were partly to blame for the excessive stress on
economic influences found in the writings of some of their fol-
lowers, since in the beginning it had been necessary to "em-
phasize this main principle in opposition to our adversaries, who
denied it, and we had not always the time, the place, or the op-
portunity to allow the other elements involved in the interaction
to come into their rights." 7

In the history of thought fertile theories have often been pre-
sented in their beginning stages in such a crude and definite form
that their sponsors have later attempted to back away from them.
Whether Northrop's views will undergo a similar modification re-
mains to be seen. At any rate, it has some of the same qualities
as the Marxist interpretation in that it is a pioneer attempt at
explaining human society in terms of relatively simple principles.

Northrop's central argument is that each of the major modem
civilizations is based upon a series of ideological assumptions
concerning man's relationship to the universe. These assumptions
are reflected in the economic, political, social, and artistic beliefs
and practices that make up the content of each civilization* "This
world," says Northrop, "in considerable part in its most significant
manifestations is but the later reflection of the earlier technical
scientific, philosophical, aesthetic and religious beliefs." 8

Contemporary Soviet Russia is one of the civilizations ex-
amined by Northrop. Since his thesis bears directly upon the
study undertaken here, it is worth-while to quote his central con-
clusion in full:

The Problem and Its Setting 9

Russia is what it is today not because there was any necessity that
it be that way, but largely because, -for the reasons indicated, the
leaders of the Russian revolution took the speculative philosophical
theory of Marx, and by persuasive and forceful means brought others
to its acceptance, and built political action and cultural institutions in
terms of it . . . The Marxian philosophy as embodied in the practices
and social forms of contemporary communistic Russia is one of the
most spectacular examples in human history of the manner in which a
philosophical theory, and a most speculative one, first formulated by
a single individual—Karl Marx— has determined later social facts and
institutions, and in part conditioned the character of the economic
structure of society.9

It is well to state at the outset that I do not agree with the
extremist conclusions presented either by Marx or by Northrop.
Since the truth is not necessarily to be discovered by the labor-
saving device of taking a position midway between two extremes,
one is compelled to investigate the problem for oneself.

Stated in their simplest form, the central questions asked in
this book are two: Which of the prerevolutionary Bolshevik ideas
have been put into effect in the Soviet Union, which ones set
aside, and why? Secondly, what can we learn from this historical
experience about the role of ideas in general? Like many simple
questions, these require rather complex answers, and the asking
of a number of other questions. In order to limit the field of in-
quiry to more manageable proportions, I have concentrated upon
certain political and economic ideas and their relationship to
specific Soviet institutions and patterns of behavior. In particular,
I have endeavored to trace the development of Bolshevik ideas
and practices concerning the organization of political authority
and economic institutions. What has been the Bolshevik attitude
toward authority, discipline, the role of the leader and the led?
How have the leaders reacted to the impact of political re-
sponsibility after a successful revolution?— in domestic affairs
over which they had some measure of control?— in foreign affairs
over which they had much less control? What made practice
deviate from precept? What difficulties and social tensions have
arisen, if any, in consequence of the contrast between promise
and fulfillment?

10 Introduction

In concentrating upon these primarily political problems it
has been necessary to eliminate from any detailed consideration
other important aspects of Soviet society: the institutions of the
family, the school, and organized religion, as well as those sur-
rounding the integration of ethnic minorities. However, it is
believed, on the basis of a partial investigation of these fields,
that developments in them to a considerable extent have reflected
events in those that will be discussed in this volume. Likewise,
considerations of time and space have led to the exclusion of any
detailed consideration of Lenin's intellectual predecessors, Marx,
Engels, and the indigenous Russian movements opposed to Tsarist
autocracy. It is necessary to cut into the stream of events at some
definite point, and the beginning stages of the Bolshevik move-
ment seemed to be the best in the light of the inquiry as a whole.
The line of questioning indicated above is specific to Rus-
sian affairs. At the same time, certain broader questions are
closely related to these. Does the organization of modern in-
dustrial societies have an inner logic of its own that compels these
societies to adopt certain similar features whether their members
wish to or not? Is organized inequality an inevitable feature of
modern industrial society? What political and economic similari-
ties and differences are possible within the framework of modern
technology? It may be anticipated that an examination of the
Soviet Union as an alternative form of social organization to
Western capitalism may throw considerable light upon these ques-
tions. Likewise, one may hope for illumination upon the role
played by a set of beliefs that are above and beyond overt rational
criticism in holding together vast numbers of people in a common
effort. Again, the Soviet experience may help to answer the broad
question of whether or not there are a limited number of possible
successors to any given current of ideas, and whether one set of
ideas automatically precludes the development of other sets
within the same intellectual climate zone. Through an analysis of
the Soviet material one may hope to perceive some of the larger
and more general forces that tend to modify any protest move-
ment in the course of its growth and to deflect it from its goal.
Final answers to these specific and general questions cannot

The Problem and Its Setting 11

be expected now or in the immediate future. Perhaps they can
never be found. Yet men have an insistent way of continuing to
ask difficult questions throughout the ages. Some refuse to con-
sider the stopping of their mouths with mud a satisfactory answer.
Though the scholar has often ignored this minority, it is my firm
and perhaps irrational belief that the scholar's best justification
lies in his efforts to provide better answers for insistent questions.

In attacking a problem of contemporary significance the ques-
tion of values, personal prejudices, and bias assumes great im-
portance. There is widespread, though not universal, agreement
among students of human behavior that one's personal wishes
ought not to affect one's conclusions. Some may regard this as
a counsel of perfection, though its difficulties are susceptible of
exaggeration. Agreement on this point, it may be remarked in
passing, does not preclude the possibility of making certain types
of evaluations. Still retaining an objective attitude, one may con-
clude that one type of social system imposes more frustrations on
the gratification of human desires than another, though there are
many difficulties of a technical nature that have to be overcome
before such a conclusion can gain even a strong semblance of
probability. Or one may conclude that one social system results
in a larger amount of conflict between individuals than another.

It could be maintained, of course, that such statements are
not real evaluations, and that evaluation does not enter in until
one adds the remark that frustrations and conflicts among indi-
viduals are "bad/* That is a problem that can for the time being
be left to others, since students of human society have at their
command only very crude yardsticks for making such compari-
sons. The point is raised here chiefly to provide the opportunity
for stating that it will not be raised again. Comparisons are made
from time to time in the course of this book between Soviet ways
and those of Western democracy, and occasionally other social
systems. They are made solely for purposes of illustration. At no
time is the implication intended that Western democracy is
superior to the Soviet system, or vice versa. While differences,
and the implications of these differences, can be observed with
varying degrees of clarity, I see no scientific warrant for a crusade

12 Introduction

against political vice in the name of political virtue on either side
of the so-called Iron Curtain. That such a crusade might take
place in the foreseeable future is quite another matter, and one
that in itself would provide a worth-while subject for dispassion-
ate investigation.

Since even many informed people labor under the misappre-
hension that Russia is a mysterious land about which it is im-
possible to obtain accurate information, it is well to indicate briefly
the nature of the sources. Changes in the official doctrine may be
obtained directly from the voluminous record of official speeches,
articles by prominent officials in magazines, and newspapers, as
well as from changes in legislation, and other similar sources.
Except for the fact that this material is not widely available in
American libraries, it does not present any insuperable problems
of accessibility. Since the Russian Communists have a great in-
terest in matters of doctrine, the scholar is embarrassed by an
abundance of material.

Difficulties do arise from the fact that what was accepted as
official doctrine at one time may become near heresy at a later
time, and vice versa. For this reason, later interpretations, made
by the Soviets themselves, are generally unreliable. It is neces-
sary to go to the original sources themselves to find out what the
official theorists of the time actually meant. In general, the sup-
pression of doctrines now considered heretical takes place through
the failure to reprint the writings and speeches of men now re-
garded as traitors to the regime. Fortunately, a representative
collection of their writings is available in American libraries either
in newspaper form or in editions approved by the authors, with
the consequence that it is possible to determine their positions at
various times with a fair degree of accuracy.

The problem of textual reliability is not an overly severe one.
For the most part, it would be preferable to depend entirely on
newspapers and avoid later collections of speeches and articles
gathered together in book form. However, this is practicable only
for a research worker who has daily access to the New York
Public Library and the Library of Congress. Furthermore, the
amount of direct textual falsification is very much less than is

The Problem and Its Setting 13

commonly supposed.10 The rewriting of history takes place by
omissions and shifts of emphasis in the secondary accounts, rather
than by direct alteration of significant texts. To be sure, occasional
cases of the latter can be uncovered: the collection of Stalin's
writings, currently in process of publication, omits Stalin's praise
of Trotsky given in Pravda, November 6, 1918, which was re-
printed in an English selection of Stalin's writings as late as 19S4.11
Nevertheless, no differences were noted in a comparison of several
key passages in the two editions of Lenin's Sochineniya used in
this study. One edition was published in the late twenties and
early thirties; the other is now being reprinted. It is significant
that Trotsky himself made frequent use of the earlier edition,
even though it was edited by men who were his political oppo-
nents. Undoubtedly he would have made the most he could of
any alterations or omissions.

Similarly, a comparison of several editions of the resolutions
and decisions of the Communist Party, a vital record of doctrinal
and behavioral changes, failed to bring out any variations. On
the whole, the Soviet leaders do not appear to be sensitive to
many of the changes and alterations that will be discussed,
especially in the case of high doctrinal authorities such as Lenin
and Stalin themselves, since various collections of their writings
containing numerous mutually contradictory statements are fre-
quently reprinted. Therefore, it is deemed reasonably safe to use
such collections for the purpose of determining the viewpoints of
these authorities at various stages in the history of the USSR.
Even if some errors in quotation have crept in from the use of
later reprints of important documents, it is believed that they are
not sufficient to affect the conclusions.

The record of behavioral changes may also be found at con-
siderable length in the Russian sources, as well as in the writings
of contemporary non-Russian observers. In using such materials
one has to bear in mind the ordinary cautions concerning bias and
the need for corroborative evidence. Even if slanted, the informa-
tion on many important matters, such as the operations of the
local Soviets, the trade unions, the Communist Party, the collective
farms, and others, is relatively abundant With practice one may

14 Introduction

gradually learn to disentangle from such accounts those views
which represent recurring aspects of behavior. Often uninten-
tional evidence is the best. The background of matters evidently
taken for granted may reveal significant information, while the
"moral" of the story may tell us nothing beyond the official view-
point. The Russians make large-scale use of their press for the
purpose of exhorting the population to adopt new patterns of
behavior. The continuation of the exhortations over time may
often serve as a fairly reliable indication that the new patterns
have not been adopted to the desired extent. The Soviet press
is also useful, since it frequently carries detailed descriptions of
the situations encountered in the application and enforcement of
policy.12 While again one must exercise discrimination, such ac-
counts provide a valuable source of data on behavior patterns.

There is a partly justifiable tradition in scholarly research that
no secondary sources should be used. Obviously, if this tradition
were carried to its logical conclusions, there would be no possi-
bility of advance, since one could not build upon the conclusions
of earlier research. The use of secondary sources is a matter of
both discrimination and convenience. Preference has been given
to those secondary sources which revealed a thorough familiarity
with the original sources and which have to this extent lightened
the heavy burden of research. On occasion, facts or allegations of
facts have been taken from such sources and given an interpreta-
tion with which their authors might not agree. For such acts it is
necessary to beg indulgence and to hope that the new interpreta-
tions will bear up under critical examination. Furthermore, I
disavow any claim that I have examined all the original or second-
ary sources relevant to the problems investigated. Probably not
even all the most important sources have been considered.
Nevertheless, it is believed that a sufficient sample has been
covered to provide a firm basis for the conclusions advanced.
Finally, it should be pointed out that on a number of occasions
translations of the original Russian texts have been utilized.
Where there has been a choice, a reliable translation rather than
the original Russian text has been used in order that the reader
who is unfamiliar with Russian might be able to check for him-

The Problem and Its Setting 15

self whether a given fact or statement has been correctly in-
terpreted in the light of its context. Different editions of the same
work have also been cited at different times in this book. Practical
considerations have made this necessary, since this study has
been written at widely scattered time intervals in Washington,
New York, Chicago, and Cambridge, in which places even the
most fundamental materials were seldom found in exactly the
same form.

In scientific investigations it is a matter of honesty to report
the way in which each fact in a chain of reasoning was obtained.
In such a controversial subject as contemporary Russia, the obli-
gation is especially great. Knowing full well that the strength
of the argument does not depend on the number of footnotes, I
make no apology for the numerous citations. In addition, direct
quotations have been used generously in order to enable the
reader to judge for himself the ideas expressed at various points
in the development of Soviet ideology. It has been a chastening
experience on many occasions to find my exuberant flights of
fancy shattered by the exactions of strict adherence to the evi-
dence and thus to be forced to abandon intriguing though un-
tenable interpretations.

PAST ONE

LENINIST THEORY AND PRACTICE
BEFORE THE REVOLUTION

1

How an Ideology Emerged

Russian society and the hypothesis of the inevitable
revolution

In his autobiography Trotsky tells the tale of Lenin s first reaction
to the Bolshevik conquest of power: "Lenin has not yet had time
to change his collar, even though his face looks so tired. He looks
softly at me, with that sort of awkward shyness that with him
indicates intimacy. TTou know,' he says hesitatingly, 'from persecu-
tion and a life underground, to come so suddenly into power . . /
He pauses for the right word. 'Es schwindelt9 (My head spins),
he concludes, changing suddenly to German, and circling his
hand around his head. We look at each other and laugh a little." *

Lenin's astonishment was shared by most contemporary ob-
servers. Those who have attempted subsequently to answer the
question of how a band of revolutionaries managed to capture
the largest state in Europe disagree among themselves even when
they do not share the astonishment. For the purposes of this study,
this question will be given a slightly different shading. The inter-
est here is in the problems of why a group emerged with the
Leninist doctrine of revolution by a conspiratorial elite, and what
factors contributed to the spread and modification of this doc-
trine. The search for answers to these questions is undertaken not
for the sake of writing correct history, although correct history
is an absolutely essential prerequisite to answering such ques-
tions, but in order to throw light on the general problem of the
relationship between changing ideas and changing forms of
political behavior.

Two major hypotheses concerning the origins and success of

20 Leninist Theory and Practice

Bolshevism provide a groundwork for any subsequent analysis.
One of these holds that specific factors in Russian society pre-
vented Russia from following the course taken by Western society
in the nineteenth century toward parliamentary and democratic
regimes. In general, the argument runs, the Russian middle class
during the Tsarist regime was too weak to be willing or able to
carry through liberal reforms similar to those which occurred in
England, France, and to a lesser extent Germany, from the seven-
teenth century onwards. This thesis received some prominence in
Trotsky's prerevolutionary writings and has become the generally
accepted explanation among Marxists who hold widely varying
opinions on other aspects of Russian society.2 The acceptance of
this explanation among contemporary Marxists has its curious
aspects, since it involves a sharp repudiation of the prerevolu-
tionary version of Marxism in Russia. Except for Trotsky, whose
views on this topic were considered an individual aberration, most
Russian Marxists before 1917 believed that a period of "bourgeois
democracy" would be the inevitable result of the overthrow of
Tsarism.

The thesis that the structure of Russian society in the nine-
teenth century ruled out the possibility of development along the
lines of Western democracy has been most effectively challenged
by N. S. Timasheff, a non-Marxist sociologist.8 According to his
hypothesis, Russia was proceeding along the same path of de-
velopment that had taken place in Western Europe. With the
passage of a few more decades, Russia might have become a con-
stitutional monarchy, perhaps along the lines of a compromise
between the British and the German models, had not the catas-
trophe of war intervened. To support this conclusion Professor
Timasheff cites as evidence the movement toward representative
institutions in the four Dumas and at the local level, the growth
of industry, and the flowering of artistic and intellectual achieve-
ments in Russia of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
This trend was cut short, so the argument runs, by the historical
accident of war and revolution.

Professor Timasheff s views represent a continuation and elab-
oration of the arguments presented by a number of Russian his-

How an Ideology Emerged 21

torians, who asserted in their prerevolutionary writings that
Russia was following the path of social development taken by the
democratic countries of Western Europe. His thesis has been
criticized on the grounds that the Revolution of November 1917
did happen, and that therefore his speculations on the trend of
events in Russia are fruitless. For me these criticisms fail to
carry conviction. They of course have nothing to do one way or
the other with the general trend of development in Russia before
the November Revolution, which is a matter of recorded facts
and their interpretation, difficult as the latter may be. As for the
argument that hypotheses on how events might have turned out
are of no use, the logical reply is that they are an essential ele-
ment in any attempt to discover why they did turn out the way
they did. One way to calculate the results of the Russian Revolu-
tion is to try to determine what would have happened if there had
been no revolution. The "mental experiment," to be sure, is un-
satisfactory in many respects, since verification can never be as
certain as in the laboratory. But without such devices history is
reduced to chronology.

Both the Marxist interpretation and the challenge it has re-
ceived at other hands call attention to significant social forces.
Perhaps the most tenable conclusion is that there were consider-
able, though not necessarily insurmountable, obstacles in the way
of Russian development along Western democratic lines. These
difficulties favored a violent resolution of domestic political ten-
sions. Insofar as the social structure of the Russian Empire was
concerned, and leaving out of account such personal factors as
the political incompetence of Tsar Nicholas II, the main difficul-
ties derived from the fact that the Tsarist regime rested upon
a quasi-feudal landed nobility, and resisted— too successfully for
its own good— the pressures for modernization imposed by the
unavoidable advent of Western industrial civilization. The suc-
cess of the Tsarist regime in resisting modernization was in turn
quite largely, if not entirely, due to the weakness of those groups
that pushed for modernization along moderate, constitutional, and
Western democratic lines, even though these groups gained con-
siderable strength in the closing years of the Empire.

22 Leninist Theory and Practice

In the West the impetus behind parliamentary democracy
had come primarily, though not exclusively, from the urban mid-
dle classes: traders, manufacturers, professional men, and intel-
lectuals. In Russia, on the other hand, as the liberal historian
Miliukov has pointed out, proportionately few cities grew up to
furnish such a base. Those cities that did were primarily military
and administrative centers, garrison towns rather than trading
or producing centers. In the middle of the nineteenth century,
according to Miliukov's figures, Russia had only 32 cities with
more than 20,000 inhabitants, and only two with more than
150,000. The change that had begun to have an effect during the
latter part of the nineteenth century is shown by the figures for
1900, when there were nine cities with more than 150,000 in-
habitants and 65 with more than 20,000.4

During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the
relationship between the urban bourgeoisie and the Tsarist gov-
ernment took a form that prevented these manufacturers and
merchants from becoming a strong and effective opponent of the
autocracy. The larger industrialists became dependent upon the
autocracy as its principal customer and for subventions, while
the latter endeavored to promote industrialization for its own po-
litical and military purposes. In addition, many of the more in-
fluential members of the bourgeoisie looked to the Tsarist autoc-
racy, especially after the abortive revolution of 1905, as the most
reliable means for keeping the industrial workers in their place*
Indeed, the Tsarist regime owed its survival in the 1905 revolu-
tion in no small measure to its success in splitting the bourgeoisie
from the industrial workers.5

Furthermore, until the opening of the second decade of the
twentieth century, the Russian bourgeoisie's interest in politics
was narrowly limited to the effect of political measures on the
prospects for trade and profit. It displayed little interest in liberty
for its own sake. The advantages of liberal reform from its point
of view lay in the creation of a free labor force, the promise of
an overhauling of the legal and bureaucratic machinery, and the
possibility of creating organizations to put economic pressure on
the government Because of this, statements by leading organs of
the bourgeoisie condemned the repressions of Tsarism, such as the

How an Ideology Emerged 23

closing of the universities and the pogroms against the Jews,
entirely on the grounds that they were bad for business. As one
writer has summarized the situation at that time, the bourgeoisie
saw its politics only in its account books.6 In part, the bourgeoi-
sie's narrowness may have been due to the absence of widespread
contact with the middle classes of Western Europe. Intellectual
currents from abroad did not permeate this stratum of Russian
society until very late.

Nevertheless, by about 1908 the logic of economic self-interest
had begun to push the bourgeoisie in the direction of wider views
and to bring about an increasing disenchantment with the Tsarist
regime. It has often been observed that in the process of terri-
torial expansion the Tsarist regime was obliged to impose a
heavy economic burden upon the population, which in turn kept
the masses in an impoverished state. While the autocracy was
the bourgeoisie's best customer, it also prevented the growth of
an internal mass market. Hence it cut the ground from under the
bourgeoisie with one hand, while it helped with the other.7 In
addition, a large proportion of the state's resources went to sup-
port a bureaucratic and legal machine, staffed largely with mem-
bers of the gentry who by education and training were often
hostile to business, and whose rules and red tape checked the
business interests at numerous points. As a consequence, in-
fluential circles among the manufacturing and trading interests
came to feel by about 1908 that the expansion of their way of life
in Russia could only take place in collision with the landed inter-
ests that still dominated the state.8 For these reasons the political
connections of the business world with the nobility began at this
time to dissolve. As part of the same process, intellectual criticism
of the status quo gained an increasingly sympathetic audience
among hardheaded business men. Similarly, among the new class
of managers and engineers brought into existence by the expand-
ing economy, Marxism in its less revolutionary and "legal" forms
made considerable headway. Since Russian Marxist doctrine at
that time was distinguished by its insistence upon the inevitability
of capitalist development, the attraction it held for members of
the middle classes is understandable.

This survey of the weaknesses of the forces behind a moderate

24 Leninist Theory and Practice

and peaceful transformation may be concluded with a brief men-
tion of the role of the liberal gentry, or the lower ranks of the
nobility. For the landed nobility was by no means a unified and
cohesive group in support of the Tsarist regime. While the great
landlords served in St. Petersburg or elsewhere as agents of the
central government, the lesser nobility served in the zemstvos,
local representative assemblies established in 1864, in which the
landed interests predominated. A certain type of humanitarian
liberalism flourished in this group, finding its reflection in ex-
tensive work for the advancement of education and health among
the peasants, in resistance to the intrusions of the bureaucracy
into zemstvo affairs, and in efforts to increase local representation
in the central government.9 Together with a portion of the less
radical intellectuals, who tended to take over the actual leader-
ship, the liberal gentry rather than the urban middle classes
formed the backbone of the short-lived Constitutional Demo-
cratic Party (Cadets or Kadets, from the initials KD), founded
in 1905. The political objectives of this party emphasized par-
liamentary government similar to the Western European pattern.10
Nevertheless, the very composition of this group tended to pre-
vent it from taking views that would have led to destruction of
the gentry. When the peasants in 1917 came to demand the
distribution of the land, long a peasant dream, the Provisional
Government, in which the liberal gentry and the bourgeoisie were
influential, could not bring itself either to oppose or support this
movement Despite many concrete achievements, the liberal gen-
try formed neither an effective brake upon revolution, nor an
effective agent of Russia's modernization.

If the foregoing sections of Russian society could not effect
the modification of the Tsarist regime along parliamentary lines,
one may raise the question of whether or not the peasantry could
or would undertake this task.

The peasants, constituting over 80 per cent of the population
of Russia before the Revolution, were without question an im-
portant source of opposition to the regime. Toward the end of
the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth there
were two major waves of peasant uprisings, one between 1881

How an Ideology Emerged 25

and 1888 and another in connection with the 1905 revolution,
that were a prelude to the final conflagration of 1917. Careful
students have concluded that these disturbances were largely in-
dependent of the propaganda that emanated in minute quantities
from urban sources, and that they represented the peasant re-
sponse to economic and social hardship.11

The peasant uprisings were, however, primarily brief and in-
effective local outbursts, Jacqueries in fact, that were destined to
continue well into the Bolshevik regime. In the intervals between
periods of concentrated unrest, peasant Russia lay quiet12 Though
the peasants provided much of the motive force that finally over-
threw the Tsarist regime in 1917, they did not succeed in de-
veloping into an organized political group with the power that
their numbers might suggest. In prerevolutionary times their
major political achievement appears to have been the organiza-
tion of an All-Russian Peasants' Union, which met in the spring
and fall of the revolutionary year 1905. In these meetings there
was widespread agreement on the economic objectives of the
abolition of private property in land. The peasant delegates
wanted the use of the landlords' fields and those of the state
domain. They also expressed desires to the effect that the state
would become an impartial distributor and periodic equalizer of
landholdings in the manner of the mir (village commune). On
political objectives there was no agreement, and the union failed
to become a permanent political organization, capable of pro-
viding leadership or directing discontent into effective channels.18
As Sir John Maynard, one of the best students of Russian peasant
life, points out, the peasants showed no tendency to conceive or
develop a social and political organization that extended beyond
their village community.14

The peasants' failure to develop a feasible political alternative
to revolutionary Marxism can be traced to a number of condi-
tions. One extremely important factor in the relative political
passivity of the peasants was their extremely low level of educa-
tion. Together with the physical isolation of peasant life, the
absence of education cut them off from political and intellectual
currents that swept through Russia from the cities. The main

26 Leninist Theory and Practice

channels through which external influences reached the village
were chiefly conservative ones: the church, the school, and the
conscript army.15

Another factor was the late date at which the institutions of
private property in land emerged in Russia. The Stolypin legisla-
tion, begun in 1906 and completed in 1911, aimed at the breakup
of the mir— the village organization responsible for tax collections,
for determining the dates of ploughing, harvesting, and other
agricultural processes, and the periodic redistribution of land
among the inhabitants. In place of the mir Stolypin hoped to
establish a class of free farmers and thereby put an end to peasant
upheavals. The result was to be achieved through three stages.
The first was the affirmation by certificate of proprietary right in
the peasants' strips of land as they stood at the time. The second
was consolidation of the scattered strips into integral holdings.
The third step involved complete separation from the mir and
even from the village site. The man who entered this third stage
turned over his original household lots for consolidation with
those of other peasants, left his home on the common village site,
and established himself in a new farmhouse on his own consoli-
dated farm away from the common organization of village life.10

Specialists vary in their estimate of the impact of this legisla-
tion upon the Russian peasants' way of life. In any case, the pro-
ceedings were stopped during the First World War because of the
large number of demobilized soldiers who were anxious concern-
ing their rights,17 a development which indicates that the reform
may not have had as stabilizing an effect as had been hoped. Pro-
fessor Robinson, after an exhaustive study, gives the following
figures as an estimate of the legislation's effect. Out of a total of
thirteen or fourteen million peasant allotments in the old Russian
Empire, 5,000,000 remained in unchanged repartitional tenure,
that is, under the sway of the mir; 1,300,000 holdings were covered
by the law, but apparently not brought under its operation;
1,700,000 holdings were practically affected by the law, but not
yet fully documented; 4,300,000 holdings had fully established
hereditary titles, but were still in scattered strips; and 1,300,000
holdings had similar titles, with partly or wholly consolidated

How an Ideology Emerged 27

form.18 In other words, well over half of the peasant households
were affected by this administrative revolution, although only
about one tenth reached its final objectives. National averages,
however, conceal significant changes in certain areas. By far the
greatest impact took place in the great wheat-growing areas of
the southwest and the southern and southeastern steppes. In other
areas the reforms had practically no effect.19

On balance it may be concluded that the effect of the Stolypin
reforms, had not war and other disturbances intervened, would
have been the encouragement of a class of free farmers and an
increase in the number of town workers, drawn from peasants
who were forced off the land. Both of these features would have
contributed to the modernization of Russia along f amiliar Western
lines. The changes that took place among the peasantry and the
urban middle classes after 1905 indicate that Russia traveled a re-
markable distance in a very short time. The social foundations
for a capitalist regime and a limited monarchy, perhaps even a
constitutional democracy, were being rapidly laid. But the journey
was begun late and its course deflected. Sufficient social tensions
had accumulated so that, when released by the disintegration of
the war, the moderates would be swept from power after a few
months. These social tensions Lenin and his followers would turn
to their own account. In revolutions, as Miliukov observed, the
appetite for change comes with eating.20 Each concession by those
in power suggests to those out of power the possibility of greater
gains. This inherent dynamic of revolution often creates a tre-
mendous advantage for extremist movements.

So far we have spoken as though some variety of democratic
capitalism were the only contestant besides revolutionary Marx-
ism in the Russian political arena before 1917, Such, of course,
was by no means the case. Many volumes have been written
about the colorful variety of intellectual doctrines struggling for
acceptance in prerevolutionary Russia. Among these ideologies,
democratic capitalism and revolutionary Marxism appeared to
play relatively insignificant roles. In both reactionary and rev-
olutionary circles faith was placed in the mir as a device from
which a new social order might spring that would enable Russia

28 Leninist Theory and Practice

to escape the path taken by the West, To recount or even mention
the fate of the other doctrines would take us far beyond the
boundaries of the problem at hand.

Nevertheless, the main alternative faced by all these groups
was between a peaceable transformation of Russian society and
a violent one. The Tsarist autocracy, resting upon the quasi-
feudal structure of the landed nobility and the peasants, had suc-
ceeded in establishing Russia as one of the great land empires
of the world. In the twentieth century this structure was an
anachronism. It could either yield and be transformed, or else
collapse in ruins. Since the forces for moderation in both the
cities and the countryside were weak and late, and did .not have
the time to develop further under continuing favorable circum-
stances, victory went to the choice of violent transformation.

The only political group that both welcomed the impact of
Western industrial institutions and promoted a revolutionary
resolution of the social tensions produced or accentuated by this
impact was the Marxist one, the Russian Social Democratic Labor
Party, founded in 1898, and particularly its left wing, formed in
1903, the Bolsheviks. The analysis may now be focused upon this
group, which retained its formal unity as a single party until 1912.

In order to perceive the various processes of ideological change
at work, an account may be given of the growth of certain se-
lected aspects of Russian Marxist, and especially Bolshevik, doc-
trine. The interest of this book will be primarily in the concep-
tions of democracy, socialism, and violent revolution, insofar as
they reveal both authoritarian and anti-authoritarian trends in
Bolshevik thinking and behavior.

Authoritarian and democratic trends in Bolshevik theory

The extent to which the Russian Marxists were indebted to
earlier revolutionary movements and critics of the existing social
order may be taken as a beginning point. The social tensions of
nineteenth-century Russia had already found considerable ex-
pression among the urban intellectuals. Although there are strong
reasons for doubting that the urban intellectuals represented ac-
curately the aspirations of the groups at the bottom of the Russian

How an Ideology Emerged 29

social pyramid, they performed the function of providing a num-
ber of tentative solutions to the existing problems and sources of
tension. Some intellectuals placed major emphasis on individualist
self-affirmation and self-completion, in contrast to those who
stressed reorganization of the social order. Others developed the
idea of a rationalist and socialist enlightenment, a form of salva-
tion through education. Still others, associated particularly with
the name of Bakunin, founder of Russian Anarchism, put forth an
emotional and mystical doctrine of revolt by the plebs. Finally,
one may note the "Jacobin" ideal of a solution of the political
problem by means of an intellectual minority— "for the people, but
not through the people." 21

Of these ideas all but the first were taken over by the Russian
Marxists. In this sense the Marxists represent a continuation of
the Russian revolutionary tradition. But whereas the earlier revo-
lutionists had looked primarily, and in vain, toward the peasants
as a lever by which to overthrow the Tsarist autocracy, the Marx-
ists turned toward the workers of the city. As early as 1899, at
the founding Congress of the Socialist International, Plekhanov,
the theoretical founder of Russian Marxism, declared to the
assembled delegates: "In Russia political freedom will be gained
by the working class or it will not exist at all. The Russian Revolu-
tion can only conquer as a working-man's revolution— there is no
other possibility, nor can there be." 22 This conception, taken from
Western Europe, constituted the Russian Marxists' most distinc-
tive contribution to the variety of political movements struggling
with one another and the Tsarist authorities.

The announced goals of the Russian Marxists for many years,
beginning with their first Manifesto of 1898, involved a complete
transformation in the system of status and authority prevailing in
Russia. Broadly speaking, they anticipated and desired first a
"bourgeois" parliamentary republic, to be followed at a later stage
of history by a socialist society. The Marxist interpretation of the
past emphasized the conception of distinct stages, while its pre-
dictions for the future stressed the role of the industrial working
class. The Russian Marxists, viewing the conditions of Tsarist
Russia through the Marxist prism, arranged their goals accord-

30 Leninist Theory and Practice

ingly. Other non-Marxist opponents of Tsarism, perceiving the
situation through other prisms, arrived at diametrically opposite
goals. As F. I. Dan points out, believing in the necessity of a
prior capitalist transformation of Russia, Plekhanov and Lenin
faced a dilemma: how could a socialist party of the working class
become the leader in the struggle for the political liberation of a
capitalist form of social organization? 2S

In turn this dilemma was part of a larger one. Given the con-
ditions of the Tsarist autocracy, resting upon a peasant mass ap-
parently incapable of more than sporadic writhings under the
knout, how could one go about the task of setting up a society
that would give full scope to strivings for individual human dig-
nity? It is hardly necessary to point out that the existence of these
humanitarian goals, and the consequent dilemma of how to
achieve them, was in itself the product of social change brought
about by contact with Western institutions and ideas.

The Russian Marxist answer, to which all factions more or less
agreed, was to permit and encourage the forces of Western in-
dustrialism to undermine and transform the old social structure.
Beyond this immediate starting point overt and covert doubts and
disagreements arose. Many Marxists asked themselves: Will not
the capitalists be as bad as the masters they displace? And
will the capitalists necessarily displace these barbaric and semi-
feudal masters? May they not simply ally themselves with
the old regime to keep the workers in their place? And finally,
will the masses be intelligent enough to perceive that we have
the correct answer to these problems and not be led astray by
false promises?

The temporary solution of this dilemma was to separate the
ultimate socialist goal from the immediate one of a democratic
republic. The Party declaration of 1903 argued that although
capitalism had become the ruling form of production in Russia,
the survival of precapitalist institutions made it necessary to
restrict the current program to the destruction of the Tsarist
regime and its replacement by a democratic republic. The im-
mediate democratic program was set out in quite specific form
under the following headings:

How an Ideology Emerged 31

1. Rule by the people, that is, the concentration of the su-
preme governing power in the hands of a lawgiving assembly
made up of representatives of the people and in the form of a
single chamber.

2. Direct elections by secret ballot, with equal electoral rights
for all sections of the population, including women.

3. Widespread local government.

4. The inviolability of the person and of the home.

5. Unrestricted freedom of conscience, of speech, of the press,
of association, and the right to strike.

To these were added several other demands, such as the separa-
tion of church and state, and a progressive income tax.24

These specifically democratic goals were in one sense an end in
themselves. Yet in another sense they were but a means to the ul-
timate end of socialism. The first Manifesto issued by the Russian
Marxists as a party declared: "And what does the Russian work-
ing class not need? It is completely deprived of that which its
comrades abroad may freely and peacefully use: participation in
the operations of government, freedom of speech and of the press,
freedom of assembly and of union organization, in a word all the
weapons and means by which the Western-European and Ameri-
can proletariat improves its position and at the same time battles
against private property and capitalism for its ultimate liberation
—and for socialism. Political freedom is necessary for the Russian
proletariat in the same way that fresh air is necessary for healthy
breathing." 25 Again in 1905 a Party declaration asserted that one
of the desired results of the revolution against Tsarism would be
the attainment of "more favorable conditions for the struggle for
socialism against the possessing classes of bourgeois democratic
Russia."26

It is often argued that because the ultimate aim was socialism,
the Russian Marxists made use of democratic ideology as a screen
to fool the masses and achieve their final goal. While there are
some grounds for this assertion, particularly in regard to the Bol-
shevik wing of the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party, it
neglects the fact that Lenin himself remained, overtly at least,
an ardent believer in some variety of democratic transformation

32 Leninist Theory and Practice

until the Party came to power. This argument also underestimates
the vitality of the individualist version of the democratic tradition
in Russian Marxist circles.

An incident at one of the Party Congresses reveals the strength
of this tradition. At the time of the Second Congress in 1903,
Plekhanov foreshadowed in his speeches the authoritarian tradi-
tion that had begun to play an important, though by no means ex-
clusive, role in certain Russian Marxist circles. At one point
Plekhanov asserted that the good of the revolution ought to be
the supreme law of revolutionary activity, even if it meant tem-
porary restrictions on one or the other of the democratic princi-
ples. In a prophetic sentence he said he could conceive of the
eventuality that the Party might under some circumstances be in
favor of restrictions even on the right of universal suffrage.27 Only
one minor delegate supported Plekhanov on this issue, at which
point there were shocked exclamations from the audience and
cries, "How about the inviolability of the person?" 28

As will become clear in the course of this book, these indi-
vidualist and democratic goals entered into the body of Com-
munist doctrine. They remain an important part of this doctrine
today, finding their reflection in the Stalinist Constitution of 1936,
and in numerous pronouncements and actions by the Soviet
regime.

Between the time of the Party's first adoption of an official
program in 1898 and the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks in
1917 the conceptions of democracy, dictatorship, and revolution
underwent significant modifications, particularly at the hands of
Lenin and his immediate associates. To some extent these modifi-
cations can be traced to the political weakness of the Bolshevik
position, and the Party's attempts to get around this weakness.

One of the major difficulties faced by Russian Marxists of all
factions was the small size of the Russian industrial working class.
The percentage of industrial workers in Russia in 1860 was 0.76.
By 1913 it had risen only to 1.41.29 Although the Marxists had
hoped to make this group the core of their activities, it rapidly
became obvious that they would have to turn to other groups for
allies. Many twists and turns in prerevolutionary ideology can

How an Ideology Emerged 33

be traced tp the efforts to attract other sections of Russian society
to the revolutionary banner, and at the same time to retain both
doctrinal purity and a free hand for the self-styled leaders of the
proletariat.

From the point of view of size and potential opposition to the
status quo, the most important section of Russian society was the
peasantry, even though it was lacking in organization and dis-
tinct political objectives. However, Marxist doctrine taught, in
part correctly, that the sources of change and upheaval in Russian
society were to be sought in the ferment produced by the pene-
tration of industrialism. Perhaps blinded by this emphasis, the
Bolsheviks paid little attention to the peasants until the 1905 revo-
lution. Then Lenin turned temporarily to the Socialist Revolu-
tionaries, a non-Marxist socialist group, the intellectual descend-
ant of earlier movements that had sought social reforms through
the peasantry.

This search for allies led Lenin during the 1905 revolution to
a new formulation of Bolshevik objectives. From the point of
view of Western democracy, the new objectives, in which inter-
mediate and ultimate goals were intermingled, represent a mix-
ture of incompatible authoritarian and democratic elements. The
mixture is well shown in Lenin's slogan of a "Revolutionary-demo-
cratic dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry," formu-
lated in the middle of 1905,

At that time Lenin perceived two possible varieties of a strictly
bourgeois revolution in Russia: a partial or "abortive" revolution
in which the big bourgeoisie retained its predominance, and a
"really great revolution" in which the peasant and proletarian
elements predominated.80 Despite the predominance of these
elements, he still conceived of this as a bourgeois revolution,
though one "in the highest degree advantageous to the pro-
letariat/' ** Such a revolution must be carried to its democratic
completion, that is, the destruction of the Tsarist regime and all
remnants of feudalism. To attain this end a dictatorship was nec-
essary, since the "introduction of reforms which are urgently and
absolutely necessary for the proletariat and the peasantry will call
forth the desperate resistance of the landlords, the big bourgeoisie

34 Leninist Theory and Practice

and Tsarism." Without a dictatorship, Lenin continued, the re-
sistance of the counterrevolution would be too strong. "But of
course it will be a democratic and not a socialist dictatorship. It
will not be able (without a series of intermediary stages of revo-
lutionary development) to affect the foundations of capitalism." S2

In other words, under the specific conditions of early twenti-
eth-century Russia, Lenin did not believe that democracy could
be achieved except by totalitarian means. The Marxist concept of
the dictatorship of the proletariat was shifted by Lenin from its
application to the transition between democracy and socialism to
the transition between Tsarism and democracy.

Lenin's views did not meet with a warm reception, even among
his own followers in the Party. The Bolsheviks adopted that por-
tion of them which implied that the democratic revolution must
be carried to its completion in the destruction of reactionary
forces among the big bourgeoisie, as well as among the remnants
of feudal society. But instead of advocating a "democratic dicta-
torship/' they demanded the calling of a constituent assembly.33
Trotsky decided that the revolutionary-democratic dictatorship
was politically unworkable, because the revolution could not stop
at the democratic stage. It would have to continue to the stage of
socialism.84 Like Lenin, Trotsky feared both the intransigence and
the powers of recovery of antiproletarian interest groups. The
Mensheviks, who were the first to perceive the ebb of the 1905
revolution, clung to the conception of the Social Democratic
Party as a left-wing pressure group that should push the bour-
geoisie as far as possible along the road to parliamentary de-
mocracy.85

It was also at the time of the 1905 revolution that Lenin set
down in the clearest and most overt form the principles that, he
thought, ought to govern the making of tactical alliances with
other groups and parties. In this respect he emphasized the con-
ception, implicit in the first Manifesto, that alliances with non-
proletarian elements were temporary expedients. They were to be
concluded only for the purpose of strengthening the position of
the proletariat. When tins purpose had been served, the pro-
letariat should turn upon its former enemies and destroy them.

How an Ideology Emerged 35

This viewpoint differs sharply from the ideals, if not always the
practices, of the Western democratic tradition. The latter recog-
nizes the conflict of interest groups, but treats it as a guarantee
that no single interest group will win out and destroy the others.
In Bolshevik intransigence there is very little of the philosophy
of live and let live.

While asserting in 1905 that the leaders of the proletariat
must make the best possible use of their allies, Lenin was equally
specific in pointing out fundamental differences and the occasions
that would, he thought, bring about an eventual break. He said:
"A Social Democrat must never, even for an instant, forget that
the proletarian class struggle for socialism against the most demo-
cratic and republican bourgeoisie and petty bourgeoisie is in-
evitable . . . From this logically follows the provisional character
of our tactics to 'strike together' with the bourgeoisie and the
duty to carefully watch 'our ally as if he were an enemy/ etc.'7 S6
The same line of thought applied equally to the peasantry. "The
time will come when the struggle against Russian autocracy will
be over, when the period of democratic revolution will also be
over, and then it will be ridiculous to talk about 'unity of will* of
the proletariat and the peasantry, about a democratic dictator-
ship, etc. When that time comes, we shall take up the question of
the socialist dictatorship of the proletariat/* 37

It is hardly likely that such statements served to calm the
fears of the bourgeois and peasant leaders whom the Bolsheviks
sought for the purpose of a limited tactical alliance. Were it not
for Lenin's great tactical flexibility, together with his capacity
for concentrating on a single goal, one might suspect that the re-
marks just quoted, a tiny sample of their type, reflected an effort
to achieve doctrinal purity rather than power.

Fears for doctrinal purity clearly existed then as they do now.
Throughout Bolshevik history these forces have been partly
countered by the requirements of doctrinal concessions in the
interest of winning political power. In the course of continual
polemics in and outside the Party, Lenin did not regard doctrinal
purity as an end in itself, but as a means toward the achievement
of other goals. He demanded, but did not always obtain, com-

36 Leninist Theory and Practice

plete adherence to the tactical line of the moment; yet he was the
source of more dramatic reversals of Bolshevik tactics than any
other of their leaders.

When in 1917 a second revolutionary upheaval in Russia sug-
gested to Lenin the possibilities of success, he left behind him in
Switzerland the ideological baggage of parliamentary democracy,
without taking with him a definitely socialist program. The pro-
jected Republic of Soviets was a compromise between the two.
From Lenin's copious notes and writings of this period, it is
apparent that he abandoned the idea of a "bourgeois democratic"
republic some time in March 1917. This abandonment took place
only when he became convinced that the Provisional Government
was, because of its bourgeois nature, too closely connected with
the Romanovs and with "imperialist" social forces abroad to carry
through the program Lenin thought necessary. This revealing
development may now be traced in some detail.

As late as 1915 Lenin continued to propound his ideas of 1905
and wrote that the task of the proletariat in Russia was to carry
to the end the bourgeois democratic revolution in Russia, and to
set on fire the socialist revolution in Europe.38 This statement
serves, however, as an indication of Lenin's primary interest in
the ultimate goal of socialism, which he then apparently thought
would first develop outside of Russia.

His reaction to the news of the March Revolution and the
downfall of the Romanov dynasty, together with the formation of
the Provisional Government under Prince Lvov, still carries out
some of the 1905 ideas, though evidently modified under the im-
pact of events. Lenin complained of the paucity of news, though
it was apparent that he had already seen some of the program-
matic statements of the new regime. He asserted that the new
regime could not give the people of Russia peace or bread, be-
cause it was representative of the capitalists and large landowners
and was tied by treaties and financial obligations to England and
France. Continuing with a number of other criticisms, he con-
cluded that the proletariat could only maintain its struggle for
i democratic republic and for socialism.88 In other words, when
the time for action came, Lenin showed little or no disposition to

Lenin's Plans for the New
Society

Tactical -flexibility in meeting new situations has long been re-
garded as Lenin's political forte. Toward the end of his life, as he
looked over a history of the Russian Revolution written by a
Menshevik journalist, he remarked that these "petty bourgeois
democrats" were slaves to the past with only a pedantic compre-
hension of Marx. They fail, he continued, to see the key point in
Marx, that revolutionary moments demand the greatest flexibility.
In this, Lenin's last article in Pravda, he reminded his followers
of Napoleon's maxim: On $ 'engage et puis ... on volt*

Occasional remarks of this type by Lenin, and his ability to
adapt his position to the power requirements of the moment, have
led many persons to regard him as a pure careerist, interested
only in power and lacking in political principles. Granting the
tremendous importance of Lenin's desire for power, one may still
conclude that it does not constitute the whole story. Lenin's
thirst for power was closely connected with his conviction that he
(and sometimes only he) had the right answer to the basic ques-
tion of what caused human misery and what ought to be done
about it. Although he changed his mind on these questions many
times during his political career and many times admitted pre-
vious errors of tactics and interpretation, there does not seem to
be a single word of Lenin's that indicates any internal doubts
about the course he was following at a given moment. In Marx-
ism he felt that he had found the tool for coming to grips with
social and economic realities. There he could find the questions

Lenin s Plans 39

to be asked about the political environment, though he and his
followers would always deny that the answers themselves could
be read mechanically out of Marxist writings. The general method
of questioning constitutes one of the more stable aspects of Marx-
ist-Leninist theory.

Reacting to situations as they arose, Lenin continued to add
new conceptions and to abandon or modify old ones. The same
process of growth and attrition has been maintained since his
death. Superimposed upon this simpler process, a cyclical tend-
ency may be observed in the development of Bolshevik theory
and also in Bolshevik practice. Each new addition to Marxist
theory and each modification established a bench mark to which
Lenin or his followers could, and often did, return at a later date
and under still different circumstances. Quarrels, which to an
outsider resemble arid theological disputations, often arose among
his followers concerning which was the correct point of return.
The continuity in general method of questioning, combined with
the flexibility and variety in the answers produced, is among the
major factors that give to Russian Marxist theory the superficially
paradoxical appearance of dogmatic permanence and opportunis-
tic change.

Therefore, if one speaks of Leninist theory, it is usually neces-
sary to speak of it as it existed at a given point in time and at a
given stage of its development. In order to clarify the point of
departure, the period just prior to revolutionary success may be
selected for a general survey of those aspects of Leninist doctrine
that are relevant to the remainder of this study. Taunted by his
opponents who accused him and his followers of being mere
demagogues incapable of assuming political responsibility, Lenin
at this time was forced to make a number of statements about the
type of society that would be established if the Bolsheviks came
to power.

The affirmation and denial of authority

In line with the general Marxist tradition, Lenin emphasized
the oppressive features of the state in his famous pamphlet State
and Revolution, completed in August 1917, during the midst of

40 Leninist Theory and Practice

the struggle against the Provisional Government. Standing armies,
the bureaucracy, the police forces, and similar features were de-
scribed by Lenin as the paraphernalia through which the ruling
class maintained its power. Democratic institutions did not alter
the fact, according to Lenin, that the state was an organ of class
rule. He dismissed them in the famous remark: "To decide once
every few years which member of the ruling class is to misrepre-
sent the people in parliament is the real essence of bourgeois
parliamentarism, not only in parliamentary-constitutional monar-
chies, but also in the most democratic republics." 2

On the basis of this interpretation, Lenin and other Marxists
drew two important conclusions. The first was that the victorious
proletariat could not take over the existing repressive apparatus
of the state, but would have to destroy it. The second conclusion,
which distinguished the Bolsheviks from other, more idealistic,
revolutionists, was that the working class would have to exercise
oppression in order to maintain and consolidate its power. In
Lenin's words, "The 'special repressive force* for the suppression
of the proletariat by the bourgeoisie, for the suppression of the
millions of toilers by a handful of the rich, must be superseded by
a 'special repressive force' for the suppression of the bourgeoisie
by the proletariat (the dictatorship of the proletariat)/* s In other
passages he argues that the proletariat and the peasantry must
"take political power in their own hands, organize themselves
freely in communes, and unite the action of all the communes in
striking at capital, in crushing the resistance of the capitalists, in
transferring the ownership of the railways, factories, land and so
forth to the entire nation, to the whole of society." 4 In still an-
other pamphlet, written less than three weeks before the Novem-
ber Revolution, Lenin asserted that the Bolsheviks were in favor
of centralism and of a plan, "but it must be the centralism and
plan of a proletarian state— it must be a proletarian regulation of
production and distribution in the interests of the poor, the toilers,
the exploited against the interests of the exploiters/' 5

In the foregoing statements there is at least an implicit recog-
nition of the need for some system of status and authority in the
workers' state, or, more accurately, in the beginning stages of this

Lenin's Plans 41

state. These ideas were, however, mingled with a set of anti-
authoritarian goals that explicitly denied the need for a system of
authority and organized inequality in the new society. These
equalitarian ideas appear to be the product of hostility to the
system of organized inequality prevailing in capitalist society.
Among social groups opposed to the existing order of inequality
in society, there frequently recurs the argument that all social in-
equalities are unnecessary. Although the Bolsheviks did not go as
far in this direction as other nineteenth- and early twentieth-
century groups opposed to the contemporary status quo, there are
strong traces of this viewpoint in Bolshevik theory.

While the economic institutions of capitalism represented a
step forward in Bolshevik eyes, they were not ready to grant that
the apparatus of government in a capitalist state represented
progress. The Russian Marxists of 1917 and earlier belonged for
the most part to the tradition that regarded all nonmanual labor
as unproductive, though they did not apply this doctrine with
complete logical rigidity. In accord with this viewpoint, bureauc-
racy and a standing army were described by Lenin as a parasite
on the body of bourgeois society, "a parasite created by the in-
herent antagonisms which rend that society, but a parasite which
'chokes all its pores' of life." 6

Since the Bolsheviks could see no useful purpose to be served
by the apparatus of control of the bourgeois state, and also recog-
nized that this apparatus would be the strongest center of opposi-
tion to the revolution, they argued that the whole machinery
should be smashed. A few weeks before the November coup,
Lenin declared that the proletariat could not take hold of the state
apparatus and could not wield it, but that they could "smash all
that is oppressive, all that is routine and incurably bourgeois in
the old state apparatus." T

The equalitarian aspects of Bolshevik doctrine are prominent
in Lenin's proposals concerning what should replace the smashed
machinery of the bourgeois state. As successor to the former bour-
geois institutions, Lenin wanted to place the Soviets. (As is
generally known, the Soviets were councils of workers, peasants,
and soldiers that sprang up during the 1905 and 1917 revolu-

42 Leninist Theory and Practice

tions.) Under the Soviets, Lenin asserted, both legislative and
executive functions could be combined and united in the person
of the elected representatives of the people.8 These new institu-
tions would be not only elective but also "subject to recall at the
will of the people without any bureaucratic formalities/' and
hence, from the Bolshevik viewpoint, "far more democratic" than
any preceding form of state.9 The army and the police were to be
replaced by the "universal arming of the people." 10

Shortly before the November Revolution Lenin apparently
believed in the possibility of widespread mass participation in the
processes of political control and decision-making. He argued that
the Bolsheviks had a "magic means of increasing our state appara-
tus tenfold at one stroke" by getting the "toilers, the poor, to
share in the day-to-day work of governing the state." Then he
added, as if to show that he was aware of the limitations of this
approach, the famous remarks, "We are not Utopians. We know
that not every labourer or cook could at present undertake the
administration of the state. In this we agree with the Cadets . . .
But we differ from these citizens in that we demand the im-
mediate abandonment of the prejudice that assumes that only the
rich . . . are capable of governing the state." n

On the basis of this tradition, the Communists in the USSR
continued until as late as 1932 to give lip service to the ideal of
the destruction of the bureaucracy and the creation of a state in
which eventually every cook could govern.

The problem of status in economic affairs

In August 1917 Lenin also advocated the suppression of all
outward signs of status - distinction in the administration of the
new workers' state. He also favored eliminating the possibility
that such distinctions would grow up on the basis of income dif-
ferentials. Under the new conditions of the workers' state the
functions of rule should be stripped, he argued, of "every shadow
of privilege, of every semblance of official grandeur." Then he
continued, "All officials, without exception, elected and subject
to recall at any time, their salaries reduced to the level of 'work-
men's wages'— these simple and 'self-evident' democratic measures,

Lenin s Plans 43

while completely uniting the interests of the workers and the
majority of the peasants, at the same time serve as the bridge
between capitalism and socialism." 12

Bolshevik goals for the future economic organization of the
post-revolutionary society reflected the same partial recognition
of the social function of inequality, woven in with a strong strand
of emotional equalitarianism, that has been pointed out in con-
nection with their goals for the future political organization.
There was, however, this important difference. In the sphere
of industrial institutions the Bolsheviks expected to take over a
going concern, the factories, railways, mines, and so forth, that
had been developed by the capitalist system, together with a
limited portion of the administrative apparatus necessary to
operate these organizations. This legacy of the bourgeoisie they
had no intention of smashing.

Lenin and his associates were by no means unaware of the
nature or the importance of the economic problems they would
have to solve, even if in retrospect their solutions sometimes ap-
pear simple to the point of utopianism. The Bolshevik leaders
definitely recognized that if they intended to eliminate or alter
the market mechanisms controlling the production and distribu-
tion of commodities in capitalist society, they would have to find
something else to take their place. "The main difficulty of a pro-
letarian revolution," Lenin remarked, "is to establish on a na-
tion-wide scale a precise and scrupulous system of accounting
and control, control by the workers, over the production and
distribution of commodities."13

Lenin and other Party officers were clearly aware likewise
that the new economic order would require, at least in the be-
ginning, some form of status distinctions and a ladder of author-
ity in order to function. "We are not Utopians, we do not indulge
in 'dreams' of dispensing at once with all administration, with
all subordination," said Lenin in 1917.14 To the Bolshevik way
of thinking, such "utopian" and "anarchist" views served reac-
tionary purposes, since they implied the postponement of the
socialist revolution until human nature had changed. The Bol-
sheviks wanted their revolution with "human nature as it is now,

44 Leninist Theory and Practice

with human nature that cannot dispense with subordination,
control, and 'managers/ " 15

The general Bolshevik plan by 1917 with regard to economic
organization was to take over the industrial organization of Rus-
sia, together with its administrative apparatus, but at the same
time to make use of the Soviets to ensure that the workers en-
joyed real power and control over industry. Lenin pointed out
that besides the preeminently coercive machinery of the mod-
ern state (the army, the police, and the bureaucracy) there had
grown up through the banks and syndicates an apparatus that
performed a vast amount of work of an accounting and statistical
nature. It is characteristic of Lenin's thinking at this juncture
that he saw in the managerial functions of industry and bank-
ing merely the "simple operations of registration, filing and
checking that . . , can be easily performed by every literate
person." 16

This managerial apparatus, or, as Lenin saw it, this account-
ing apparatus, was not to be destroyed, but merely wrested from
the control of the capitalists and subordinated to the proletarian
Soviets. In Lenin's own words, "Without big banks socialism
would be impossible of realization." He continued with the argu-
ment that the big banks were the state apparatus which the
proletariat would take from capitalism ready-made,17 In addi-
tion, the Bolsheviks planned to take over the wartime measures
of the grain monopoly, bread cards, and universal labor service,
putting them under the control of the proletariat.18 As in the
political sphere, the problem of economic control would be
solved through the Soviets.19 This could be done, Lenin argued,
because the problem was merely a question of smashing the
resistance of a handful of people. "We know them all by name/*
said Lenin, "we have only to take the lists of directors, members
of boards, big shareholders, and so forth. There are a few hun-
dred of them in the whole of Russia, at most a few thousand,
each of whom the proletarian state, with its Soviet apparatus,
its employees' unions, and so forth, can surround with tens or
hundreds of controllers." 20 There are no indications at this time
that the Bolsheviks foresaw any of the difficulties that might

Lenin s Plans 45

arise from such a diffusion of responsibility and authority. How
Lenin himself modified his views when these problems arose will
be indicated in the course of this study.

In 1917 Lenin evidently anticipated that inequalities of in-
come and consumption would continue after the Revolution, as
a temporary measure, in order to induce those with scarce skills
to cooperate with the new regime. He is equally specific in point-
ing to equality as an eventual Bolshevik goal. "We shall probably
only gradually introduce equality of pay for all work in its full
extent, leaving a higher rate of pay for such experts during the
transition period."21 On other occasions, perhaps carried away
by enthusiasm for the equalitarian goal, Lenin asserted that the
"immediate object" was to organize the whole of the national
economy "so that the technicians, managers, bookkeepers, as
well as all officials, shall receive salaries no higher than 'work-
men's wages.' " 22 The latter type of statement is, however, rela-
tively rare even in Lenin's writings of 1917. For the most part,
he expressed clearly and pungently Bolshevik willingness to pay
the "experts" for their services, provided they were kept under
the control of the proletariat. This issue became the source of
important splits in the top Party leadership shortly after the
November Revolution.

The equalitarian and anti-authoritarian aspects of Bolshevik
doctrine appear most clearly in the conception of the "wither-
ing away of the state." In the course of an unspecified period of
time, the Bolshevik argument runs, both the coercive and the
incentive features that have characterized past societies, as well
as the early stages of socialist society, will disappear. This early
Bolshevik belief reflects a certain idealistic and perhaps naive
faith in the plasticity of human nature. "When people have be-
come so accustomed to observing the fundamental rules of social
life and when their labour is so productive that they will volun-
tarily work according to their ability'' the state will be able to
wither away completely, according to Lenin. Perhaps he did not
have a very firm belief in the possibility of attaining this eventual
goal, because he went on to say that no socialist would promise
that this higher phase of communism would arrive. Instead, he

46 Leninist Theory and Practice

pointed out that the earlier great socialists, in foreseeing its ar-
rival, assumed both a greater productivity of labor than existed
and a new human nature: "a person unlike the present man in
the street, who ... is capable of damaging the stores of social
wealth 'just for fun' and of demanding the impossible/' 23

Plans for the peasants

Lenin and other Marxists devoted more attention than is gen-
erally realized to the role of the peasantry in both the existing
society of the day and the society they hoped to create. Points
of departure for the Marxist analysis are found in the writings
of Marx and Engels, and especially in Karl Kautsky's Die Agrar-
frage. Early in 1899 Lenin took copious notes on the Kautsky
study,24 the influence of which is evident and acknowledged in
many subsequent writings,

The belief in the inevitability of capitalist development in agri-
culture25 was central to the Bolshevik analysis of the peasant
problem and provided the stick with which they beat their op-
ponents among non-Marxist parties opposed to the status quo.
For Lenin and his followers in the years before the Revolution,
the chief question was merely what type of agrarian capitalism
would develop in Russia.

According to the Leninist analysis, two lines of development
were possible. One was according to the Prussian model, through
the gradual transformation of the large estates into "Junker-
bourgeois" estates, by turning the mass of peasantry into
landless peasants and keeping them down to a pauper standard
of living. Parallel with this development there would be, in
his opinion, the growth of a class of well-to-do peasants (kulaks),
who would participate in the exploitation of the masses. This
process would break up the village commune (mir) and other
"antiquated" and semifeudal institutions in the interest of the
landlords. The second line of development Lenin regarded as
the American model. This too required the destruction of the
old feudal forms, but in the interest of the peasant masses and
not the landlords. The result would be a mass of free fanners.
Both these possibilities he regarded as strictly capitalist develop-

Lenin s Plans 47

ments, though he stressed that the latter would be far more bene-
ficial to the masses.26 On the basis of this interpretation of the
economic and political situation in Russia prior to the Revolution,
Lenin stated very clearly that the Party ought to promote the
latter type of development, namely, the "bourgeois" growth of
a mass of free farmers. This bourgeois goal was not to be con-
fused, however, Lenin cautioned his followers, with the ulti-
mate one of socialism.27

The capitalist means proposed by Lenin to destroy the rem-
nants of feudalism and the institution of the mir was the national-
ization of the land. Although this term is now associated with
socialist measures and, at the time it was proposed, included
the "total abolition of private property in land," Lenin regarded
it as a purely bourgeois device for the purpose of destroying
precapitalist arrangements and clearing the way for capitalist
(and eventually socialist) institutions. This argument, which
may strike the modern reader as paradoxical, was based on cer-
tain conclusions arrived at by Marx, to the effect that private
property in land was unnecessary and even economically harm-
ful under strictly capitalist conditions. Such a line of reasoning
may also reflect a certain subconscious desire to strike a blow at
capitalism. Still another factor in the apparent paradox may
have been Lenin's desire at this time to attract the peasantry
to the banner of Social Democracy.

In criticizing not only the Narodniki, who thought that "the
repudiation of private property in land was repudiation of capi-
talism/' but also that section of the Russian Marxists who fol-
lowed a similar train of thought, Lenin drew upon the follow-
ing argument by Marx. Marx asserted that under a system of
private property in land, the expenditure of money-capital in
the purchase of land diminished by that amount the capital
. available for agricultural investment. In other words, he did not
regard the purchase of land as investment of capital in land.
Instead, he regarded it as just the opposite: a diminution of the
amount of capital available for investment in land.28 Though the
actual validity of Marx's analysis is not of concern here, it is
difficult to see why this argument should apply any more to the

48 Leninist Theory and Practice

purchase of land than it should to the purchase of a factory. At
all events, it provided the grounds for the Marxist-Leninist doc-
trine that the landowner was "absolutely superfluous in capitalist
production." 29

Lenin continues with a quotation from Marx, drawing certain
conclusions about the consequences for the bourgeois attitude
toward private property in land: "That is why in theory the
radical bourgeois arrives at the repudiation of private property
in land . , , In practice, however, he lacks courage, for an at-
tack on one form of private property in the conditions of labour
would be very dangerous for another form (Theorien iiber den
Mehrwerth, II. Band, I. Teil, S. 208 )."80 For these reasons the
abolition of private property in land was the "maximum of what
can be done in bourgeois society for the removal of all obstacles
to the free investment of capital in land and to the free flow of
capital from one branch of production to another." This situation
in turn would lead to the rapid development of capitalism and
the unleashing of the class struggle, in which Lenin was, per-
haps, primarily interested.81

The Bolsheviks were aware that the peasants were not inter-
ested in such elaborate discussions, and that they were mainly
anxious to divide up the large holdings of the landlords, the church,
and the Tsar among themselves. Lenin himself remarked that all
the peasant wanted was the expansion of small-scale private
plots.32 Probably for these reasons the official Party program
of 1903 adopted a highly equivocal position toward the peasant
question in an effort to harness the peasants to the revolution-
ary chariot. "While supporting all revolutionary action on the
part of the peasantry," the Party declared, "including the con-
fiscation of the large estates of the landlords, the Russian Social
Democratic Labor Party is absolutely opposed to all attempts
to hinder the course of economic development While striving for
the transfer of confiscated lands to the democratic local govern-
ment bodies in the event of a victorious development of the
revolution, the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party will, if
circumstances prove unfavorable for such a transfer, declare
itself in favor of dividing among the peasants landed estates on

Lenin's Plans 49

which small husbandry had previously been conducted or which
are required in order to round out the peasants' holdings/* M

The Marxists were opposed to the development of small-scale
peasant agriculture on the overt grounds that it was less efficient
than large-scale agriculture, which permitted a wider use of
mechanization. It is highly likely that a more important reason
for their opposition was the fear that the growth of a class of
established small property owners would block the road to
socialism. Lenin's 1907 proposal to nationalize the land instead
of turning it over to "democratic local government bodies,'* as
advocated in the 1903 program, was probably designed to
strengthen the hand of the central authorities in coping with
such a situation. However, he recognized that even nationaliza-
tion might achieve no more than to clear the way for the trans-
formation of Russia into a country of small independent farmers.
After a successful agrarian revolution and the nationalization
of the land, he observed, the peasants might demand that the
plots of land they rented from the state become their personal
property.3*

In 1907 Lenin was able to supply only a very general solution
to this dilemma, which was to plague the Bolshevik rulers dur-
ing the first decade and a half of their power. According to this
solution, the proletariat should support the "militant bourgeoisie
[which in this connection included the peasants] when it is
waging a genuinely revolutionary struggle against feudalism.
But it is not the business of the proletariat to support the
bourgeoisie when it is calming down." Anticipating that the
peasants might become a conservative force as soon as their land
hunger had been satisfied, Lenin at this juncture offered no more
than the formula that the proletariat must "defend revolutionary
traditions/* M

Nevertheless, there was latent in the prerevolutionary Marxist
tradition the solution that was eventually adopted by the Party
in the great campaigns for the collectivization of agriculture. Al-
though this solution underwent significant alterations in the in-
tervening period, there is no difficulty in recognizing the essen-
tial similar elements. Hints of the solution are found in the

50 Leninist Theory and Practice

occasional glimpses of the ultimate goal of socialism and the
peasants' way of life thereunder. In the late nineteenth century
Karl Kautsky devoted a few lines to a sketch of the "socialist
latifundia" of the future, peopled by prosperous cooperatives
of free and happy men. He expected that in the future the flight
from the peasant dwarf holdings to the city slums would be re-
versed by a stream of young men and women pouring into the
cooperative estates. In this way the small peasant would dis-
appear of his own volition, and "barbarism would be driven
from the last fortress ... of modern civilization."86 Perhaps
this picture was somewhat too rosy for Lenin's cast of mind,
since he does not appear to have paid special attention to it in
his notes on Kautsky. But he did note the general thesis that
capitalism was preparing the ground for socialism in agriculture,
as in industry, by the increasing cultivation of large areas of
land and the increasing use of wage labor on the land.87

Where Kautsky in a less rosy analysis asserted that the peasant
in contemporary society would not go over to socialized pro-
duction of his own accord and that the initiative could come
only from the victorious proletariat, Lenin used vigorous italics
in approval.88 Those already familiar with the actual history of
the collectivization of agriculture in Russia will recognize that
this forceful aspect of the Marxist tradition played a more im-
portant role than did the optimistic picture of the attractions
of the socialist latifundia.

Lenin was quite cautious in his open advocacy of large-scale
socialist farms and evidently conceived of them merely as the
best way to make use of the big estates. By turning the big
estates into cooperative farms he hoped, perhaps, to check the
peasants' drive toward a mere division of the land. In 1903 he
presented in brief form his ideas on this topic, which are worth
quoting in full, since they foreshadow clearly later plans for
collective farming:

When the working class is victorious over the whole of the bour-
geoisie, it will take the land away from the big proprietors and
introduce cooperative farming on the big estates, so that the workers
will farm the land together, in common, and freely elect trusted men

Lenin s Plans 51

to manage the farms. They will use machinery to save labour; they
will work in shifts for not more than eight (or even six) hours daily.
Then the small peasant who prefers to carry on his farm in the old
way on individual lines will not produce for the market, to sell to
anyone who comes along, but will produce for the workers* associa-
tions; the small peasant will supply the workers* associations with
corn, meat, vegetables, and the workers in return will provide him
with machinery, livestock, fertilizers, clothes, and whatever else he
may require, without his having to pay for it. Then there will be no
struggle for money between the big and small farmer, then there will
be no wage labour for others; all workers will work for themselves,
all labour-saving devices and all machinery will benefit the workers
and help to make their work easier, to improve their standard of
living.39

As late as May of 1917 Lenin limited his proposals for co-
operative farms to the confiscated estates. In his proposed revi-
sions of the Party program he urged that the original (1903)
proposal to permit the division of such estates be replaced by
advice to the rural proletarians to set up model farms to be
conducted for the public account by local Soviets of agricultural
workers under the direction of agricultural experts.40 The pro-
posal in almost identical wording was included in the decisions
promulgated at the crucial Conference of May 1917, which
adopted Lenin's program of the "April theses," reversing the
official Party viewpoint on a number of issues.41

Revolution and international affairs

Around the turn of the century the Russian Marxists began to
raise among themselves more frequently the broader question
of what would happen to the Russian state and to world politics
as a whole if their revolutionary ideas triumphed. The answers
that were given to this question were closely related to the
views held by their authors concerning both die probable and
the desirable situation in Russia following a successful revolu-
tion.

By the spring of 1905 Lenin had come to the conclusion that
the "revolutionary-democratic dictatorship of the proletariat and
the peasantry" might succeed in establishing itself for a brief
period in Russia. Such a victory would in turn rouse Europe to

52 Leninist Theory and Practice

"throw off the yoke of the bourgeoisie" and enable the Russians
to carry out a socialist revolution.42 At the same time Lenin
anticipated that the establishment of the "revolutionary-demo-
cratic dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry" would
rapidly encounter the resistance of the property-owning classes
in Russia. The struggle to preserve the gains won in this "demo-
cratic" revolution and to proceed toward socialism would be
"almost hopeless for the Russian proletariat alone/' and its de-
feat would be practically inevitable "if the European socialist
proletariat should not come to the assistance of the Russian pro-
letariat/'43

Lenin's views differed from those of more conservative Marxist
theorists, especially the Mensheviks, who expected the prole-
tariat to play a role no more significant than that of a left wing
of the liberal bourgeoisie in a parliamentary revolution in Rus-
sia. The practical implication of this viewpoint was a postpone-
ment of the revolutionary goal.4*

The conception developed by Lenin also differed from Trot-
sky's views at this time. Arguing from the experience of the
abortive revolution of 1848, and from the internal conditions in
Russia, Trotsky came to the conclusion that political power in
Russia would and should pass into the hands of the proletariat
before the bourgeoisie could check the onward rush of events.45
Pressing the argument further, he declared that the industrial
workers should participate in the revolutionary government only
in the position of a dominant power group.46 Lenin's key concep-
tion of a dictatorship of the proletariat and the peasantry simply
could not be realized, Trotsky announced, because the peasants
were incapable of forceful political activity. They could neither
identify themselves with the existing bourgeois parties, nor form
a party of their own. Therefore, the workers would have to seize
political responsibility themselves.47

After the seizure of power, class antagonisms were bound to
increase as soon as the representatives of the proletariat went
beyond policies of a purely democratic character and began to
put into effect the policies of their own class. In this respect
the leaders of the proletariat would have no real choice, accord-

Lenin s flans 53

ing to Trotsky's reasoning. If, for example, the government
dominated by the proletariat passed the "democratic" legislation
of an eight-hour day, the violent resistance of the capitalists
would force the government to take control of the factories.48
In this fashion the distinction between the democratic and so-
cialist programs of social democracy would inevitably disappear.

The increasing class struggle in Russia would, in turn, make
it impossible for the Russian working class to hold power with-
out assistance from the European proletariat.49 At the same time,
conditions in the capitalist world would make possible a clean
sweep of the established order by a series of socialist revolutions.
Capitalism, Trotsky asserted, had "drawn all reactionary forces
into one world-wide co-partnership."50 For the maintenance of
its power the bourgeoisie depended largely on the "pre-capitalist
pillars of reaction," 51 that is, such groups and institutions as the
large landowners, the Russian, German, and Austrian monarchies,
the police, the standing army, and the bureaucracy. All these in-
stitutions and capitalism itself could and should be swept away,
Trotsky declared, in a chain reaction of revolutionary explosions.
At the time when this was written, during the ebb of the 1905
revolution, many Marxists regarded Trotsky's views as an ex-
pression of personal idiosyncrasy. Yet they formed a latent con-
tribution to Marxist doctrine that was destined to revive and
win considerable acceptance in powerful Bolshevik circles, when
circumstances seemed more favorable to their application.

A further stimulus to the development of Russian Marxist
theory on world politics was the outbreak of the First World
War and the collapse of the socialist movement along the lines
of national fissures. For these events the Bolsheviks sought to
find a theoretical explanation. It was not in the tradition of the
early Marxist intellectuals to explain and dismiss striking events
with tabloid catch phrases. The exact opposite was the case and
so remained for many years after the establishment of the new
regime. Long discussions of political affairs were the rule, a tra-
dition that continued among opposition elements in the jails of
the secret police.

For enlightenment on the war Lenin turned in 1915 to the

54 Leninist Theory and Practice

writings of Clausewitz. As was his practice, Lenin took copious
notes, which throw a great deal of light on his thought proc-
esses as a whole, as well as on the aspects of Clausewitz's theory
that appealed to him. He left untouched the purely military and
strategic portions of Clausewitz. Instead, he paid careful atten-
tion to the political sections. Apparently he was particularly im-
pressed by Clausewitz's analysis of the role of the masses in
wartime. Clausewitz's observation that a good military leader
should not have too much faith in the people or believe the best
about them attracted his favorable attention.52 Likewise, he was
struck with Clausewitz's explanation of Napoleon's victories in
terms of the spread of political and social changes associated
with the French Revolution.53 Lenin also seemed to enjoy Clause-
witz's way of making fun of the distinction between aggressive
and defensive war. In Lenin's notes is found Clausewitz's re-
mark: "The conqueror is always peace loving (as Bonaparte al-
ways claimed); he would just as soon march peacefully into our
state; since he cannot do this we must want war, and also pre-
pare for it." "

Elsewhere Lenin copied out verbatim, and in the original
German, some of Clausewitz's observations on the role of eir-
pirical judgments in political and military matters.05 Lenin's
expressed interest in the importance of an unsystematic and
more or less intuitive approach to politics is significant. Al-
though he was by far the most prominent theorist among the
Bolsheviks, he was also the leader least bound by his past
theories. While his numerous changes in policy were always
presented with elaborate theoretical justification, there appears
to have been in these changes a strong element of sheer intuition.

From these notes on Clausewitz, as well as in his own writ-
ings on the organizational problems of a conspiratorial elite (to
be discussed in the next chapfer), Lenin reveals many character-
istics of the modern propagandist and manipulator of the masses.
There is in Lenin the typical combination of cynicism concern-
ing the role of the masses, who are regarded as merely objects for
skilled political manipulation, and fanatical devotion to a cause
that is characteristic of twentieth-century totalitarian movements*

Lenin s Plans 55

It is, however, Lenin's Imperialism, the Highest Stage of
Capitalism, written in 1916, the year after his reading Clause-
witz, that constitutes his chief contribution to a theory of world
politics and the source of much subsequent Marxist writing and
thinking on this topic. In this work Lenin claimed that the con-
centration of production and capital into larger and larger units
bad led to the creation of enormous monopolies. An outstanding
characteristic of monopoly capitalism was that control had fallen
into the hands of the banks. In turn, Lenin argued, this situa-
tion had created the necessity for the export of capital and the
development of colonial empires.

Since the territorial division of the world among the great
capitalist powers had already taken place, the consequence could
only be a continual struggle by peaceful and warlike means for
a redivision of the world. Relations established by alliances
among capitalist states were based on the economic partition of
the world. Because a forceful redivision of the world was un-
avoidable under capitalism, Lenin continued, these alliances
could be nothing more than temporary truces leading to new

-i*. Another feature of capitalism, according to this interpreta-
tibife was the rise of chauvinism and opportunism among the
leaders of the working class. The receipt of monopoly profits by
the capitalists made it possible for them to corrupt a minority
of the working class and win them over to the side of the capi-
talists of a given nation.57 By this argument Lenin endeavored to
explain to his own satisfaction, and that of his followers, the
growth of nationalist and nonrevolutionary sentiment among the
leaders of the European working class, and their defection from
the banner of class warfare and working-class solidarity at the
time of the outbreak of the war.

In Imperialism the full tactical conclusions for Russia were
not openly asserted. However, the Leninist doctrine of imperial-
ism has provided the theoretical justification for the conclusion
that the proletariat should struggle for the defeat of its own
government in wartime and should do its best to "turn the im-
perialist war into a civil war." As Lenin put it elsewhere, "A

56 Leninist Theory and Practice

revolutionary class in a reactionary war cannot but desire the
defeat of its own government." 58

It should be pointed out that this tactical conclusion already
possessed a theoretical basis in the general tradition of Euro-
pean Marxism. The Communist Manifesto had already asserted
that the working class knew no fatherland. Numerous Congresses
of the Second International had in their declarations foreshad-
owed the position taken by Lenin. But it was only in Russian
Marxist, and particularly Bolshevik, circles that this tradition was
taken sufficiently seriously to become the basis for action. In
September of 1914 the Central Committee of the Russian Social
Democratic. Labor Party, at that time controlled by the Bol-
sheviks, issued a Manifesto against the war, declaring that the
task of socialism was to turn the conflict into a civil war. Accus-
ing the other parties of treachery to the cause of socialism, the
Manifesto called upon socialists of each country to defeat their
own bourgeoisie. On the occasion of the voting of war credits
in the Duma, both the Menshevik and the Bolshevik deputies
refused to vote in favor of the credits and left the meeting hall.59
However, nationalist sentiments were sufficiently strong in Rus-
sian Marxist circles to bring about a complete regrouping within
the Party. Among the most prominent to go over to the "pa-
triotic" viewpoint was Plekhanov, the father of Marxism in
Russia.

Scattered through Lenin's writings of 1915-1917 are a num-
ber of remarks concerning the policy the leaders of the prole-
tariat should adopt if they were successful in turning the im-
perialist war into a civil war and in seizing power. For the most
part they followed the same line of thought as that adopted more
than a decade earlier: that the proletariat should seize power and
by so doing set on fire the socialist revolution in Europe, which
would in turn enable the workers to retain power in Russia. To
this he added, in 1915, that "we would propose peace to all the
belligerents on the b/sis of the liberation of the colonies and of
all the dependent, oppressed and disfranchised peoples." 60

This is the course of action the Bolsheviks followed after the
seizure of power. However, Lenin was unable to foresee many of

Lenin s Plans ' 57

the consequences of this action. Though he pr'ophesied correctly
that neither Germany nor England nor France would accept the
peace proposals, he was incorrect in stating that this refusal
would make it necessary for Russia "to prepare for and wage
a revolutionary war."61 After the assumption of political re-
sponsibility, Lenin himself prevented the Bolshevik leaders from
adopting such an adventurous course. Similarly, as late as October
1917, he failed to foresee the possibility of intervention against
the Soviet state. He regarded as "utterly absurd" the assumption
that the French and Italians might combine with the Germans in
order to attack Russia. In this he was correct only to the extent
that the Germans did not cooperate with the Allies in the inter-
vention, although they invaded Russia on their own account after
the peace of Brest-Litovsk. At one point, however, the Bolshe-
viks sought German assistance against Allied intervention.62
Furthermore, Lenin regarded as very unlikely that England,
America, and Japan would declare war upon Russia, because of
the conflict of their interests in Asia.63 Here he might be described
as "wrong for the right reason," in that American intervention was
motivated largely by a desire to prevent the extension of Japanese
power. While these matters will be considered in more detail in
a subsequent chapter, it is well to point out here that the Leninist
doctrine of imperialism and incipient revolution did not provide
an accurate tool for political analysis and prediction, and that
Lenin himself was the first to abandon the attempt to carry out
certain of its implications.

Main points of the Leninist program

What, then, was the Bolshevik program on the eve of the
coup d'6tat? The immediate objective was to establish a republic
of Soviets based on the proletariat and the poor sections of the
peasantry, and to abolish the police, the army, and the bureauc-
racy. In the economic field, Leninist doctrine demanded the re-
placement of the existing managerial groups with a centralized
system of control by the industrial workers, together with a sharp
reduction of inequalities in pay and the eventual introduction of
full equality. In agriculture, Lenin proposed the introduction of

58 Leninist Theory and Practice

cooperative farming only on the large landed estates, while the
disposal of the rest of the land was left up to the local population.
At the same time he wanted to avoid, if possible, the transforma-
tion of Russia into a land of small peasant proprietors. In the
international field, he expected that a successful revolution in
Russia would set afire the socialist revolution in Europe, with
the result that the Western proletariat would come to the aid of
the hard-pressed workers of Russia.

Nearly every one of these hopes and expectations was dis-
appointed. Yet these beliefs constituted a point of departure to
which the Bolsheviks were to return in times of trouble. Before
the nature of these defeats and the subsequent reinterpretation
and readaptation of Russian Marxist doctrine can be understood,
it is necessary to examine briefly the instrument of revolutionary
victory, the Party,

The Party Faces the Dilemma
of Means and Ends

Why the route of conspiracy?

In the first chapter certain aspects of the structure of Russian
society favoring the overthrow of the established order by a con-
spiratorial elite were pointed out. Closer examination may now
be made of the theory and practice of conspiracy developed by
Lenin as a means for destroying one social order and replacing
it with another. In the subsequent development of the Bolshevik
regime such doctrines concerning the means to power were to
play a more significant role than the doctrines concerning the ends
to which power should be put. Some explanation is necessary,
therefore, of the way in which these traditions arose, and the ex-
tent to which they corresponded to actual political behavior in
the prerevolutionary period.

The first problem to be considered is why the device of a
conspiratorial elite was invented or chosen by any of the groups
that were in opposition to the Tsarist order. In addition to the
hindrances imposed on open political activity by the conditions
of Tsarist autocracy, an important reason for selecting the con-
spiratorial road to power appears to be that the persons who felt
the social tensions of Tsarist society most keenly, the intelligent-
sia, had little or no widespread or organized support among the
masses. There is a touch of historical irony in this situation. If
mass discontent with the status quo had been greater, and if the
level of education had been higher, the Marxist movement in
Russia might have achieved a broader base of mass support and

60 Leninist Theory and Practice

greater influence upon the decisions of the government. In this
case, it might conceivably have followed the Western European,
instead of the Bolshevik, line of development and emerged even-
tually as a peaceful left opposition.

The gap in Russian society between the intelligentsia and the
masses had two far-reaching consequences in the development of
Russian Marxism and Russian society as a whole. In the first
place, it led to the conception of a dictatorship of the Party over
the working class, because the intellectual leaders of the Party
feared that the revolution would never come of its own accord.1
In the second place, this split favored the development of a
centralized control by an intellectual elite within the Party itself.2
While in modern times the intellectuals of the Party have been
replaced by practical administrators, the feature of centralized
control has remained and even been intensified.

When the issue of a conspiratorial versus a mass organization
first arose, it was not nearly as clear-cut as later historical synthe-
sis, together with the exigencies of later Party polemics, might
make it appear. Although Lenin had already formulated and cir-
culated in numerous pamphlets and speeches his ideas on how
the Party should be organized, and although these organizational
principles became the issue over which the Party split into the
Menshevik and Bolshevik fractions at the Second Congress (held
in Brussels and London in 1903), it entered no one's head at the
time the discussions commenced that the split would take place.
Indeed, Lenin himself remarked at the time to Axelrod, later the
outstanding Menshevik leader, "I do not in any way consider our
differences so important that the life and death of the Party de-
pends on them." 3 Nevertheless, the organizational principles ex-
pounded by Lenin as a means to an end became the basis for the
organization of the Party, the Communist International, and
eventually the Soviet State itself. While the ideology of ends has
been much modified or discarded, the ideology of means has had
lasting importance.

Dilemma of Means and Ends 61

The ambivalent attitude toward the masses

The relative absence of mass support for the goal of revolu-
tion, combined with the intellectual's fanatical belief in the de-
sirability of this goal, produced in official and unofficial Leninist
doctrine an attitude of distrust toward the masses. Coupled with
this attitude was a firm belief in the possibility of persuading the
masses to follow the "right" path. This attitude and its relation-
ship to the modern propagandist has already been pointed out in
connection with Lenin's reaction to Clausewitz. A third element
in the Bolshevik doctrinal view of the masses, which stands in
contradiction to the other two, was a highly favorable opinion of
the creative ability of the masses. This talent had merely to be
released from the shackles of capitalism and feudalism in order
to build a freer and happier society than man had ever known.

When the problem of organizing a party first arose, Lenin ex-
pressed the attitude of distrust, tinged with contempt, in a sen-
tence that eventually became a clich6 of Communist doctrine.
"The history of all countries shows that the working class, ex-
clusively by its own effort, is able to develop only trade union
consciousness."4 He went on to point out, by way of contrast,
that both in Germany and in Russia the ideas of socialism had
developed among the intellectuals. Elaborating his ideas further,
he asserted, "There is a lot of talk about spontaneity, but the
spontaneous development of the labor movement leads to its be-
coming subordinated to bourgeois ideology." Trade unionism in
turn "means the ideological enslavement of the workers to the
bourgeoisie. Hence our task, the task of Social-Democracy, is to
combat spontaneity, to divert the labor movement from its spon-
taneous, trade unionist striving to go under the wing of the
bourgeoisie, and to bring it under the wing of revolutionary
Social-Democracy." 5

Lenin's explanation of the failure of the workers to develop of
their own accord a revolutionary viewpoint is in the form of a
tribute to bourgeois ideology. Since the latter was "more fully
developed," according to Lenin, and since the opportunities for
its dissemination were enormously greater, the workers were

62 Leninist Theory and Practice

likely to follow it instead of the revolutionary doctrine of social-
ism.6 No third ideology could develop, according to Lenin's argu-
ment, because it is in general impossible to develop an ideology
that is above class lines in a society torn by class antagonisms.7

This somewhat hostile and suspicious attitude toward the
everyday demands put forth by the rank-and-file industrial work-
ers did not imply that the Bolsheviks underestimated the im-
portance of mass support. Lacking this support, the Bolsheviks
did all they could to obtain it, especially in the months preceding
the November Revolution. Repeatedly Lenin asserted that the
Revolution could not succeed without the support of the masses.
'We are not Blanquists, we are not in favor of the seizure of
power by a minority," he declared in 1917.8 His arguments in
favor of the final armed uprising that put the Bolsheviks in power,
an undertaking several of his most important followers regarded
as sheer adventurism, were based on the premise that the psycho-
logical moment had arrived when the masses would support the
Bolsheviks.9 It is significant that in Leninist theory the gauging
of this support was to be an act of intuition on the part of the
conspiratorial leaders. "It would be naive to wait for a 'formal'
majority for the Bolsheviks; no revolution waits for that" 10

The necessary mass support was something that had to be
earned through positive and active leadership. Lenin had nothing
but scorn for the leader who proceeds by finding out what the
masses want and then offers it to them. For such tactics Lenin
coined the picturesque term "tail-endism" (khvostism) , an offense
he lashes out against time after time throughout his career. In-
stead, the Bolsheviks, and particularly Lenin, argued that one
must explain patiently to the masses what the "real" political situa-
tion was, and what tactics were necessary in order to achieve
goals that would "really" help the masses.11 It is clear that such
a viewpoint implies that the Bolsheviks had the correct answers
to the problems facing the masses. On this point the Bolsheviks
at any given time did not entertain any public doubts, though
they did not hesitate to alter their interpretation of events and
their tactics when the situation appeared to require it.

This ambivalent attitude toward the masses, a mixture of

Dilemma of Means and Ends 63

suspicion and admiration, has remained an important element in
Bolshevik thinking down to the present day. There will be occa-
sion later to speak of Stalin's "revolution from above," in which
the ordinary citizens of the USSR were called upon to make
enormous sacrifices for the sake of distant goals and were driven
by frequently cruel means to make these sacrifices. Likewise, note
will be taken of Stalin's various efforts to curb public expression
of contempt for the masses by members of the Communist Party
and the new use to which the Marxist version of vox populi, vox
Dei has been put in the new social order.

Lenin's theories concerning the organizational forms that the
Russian Marxist Party ought to take were closely related to the
ambivalent attitudes toward the masses that have just been de-
scribed. They also represented in his opinion, and that of his
followers, the only possible adaptation to the conditions of police
repression in Tsarist Russia, Although this repression was mild
and inefficient by the standards that have been set subsequently
by the totalitarian and police states, it included far greater re-
strictions on the political and economic activities of the industrial
workers than prevailed at the same time among the workers in
Western Europe with their legal socialist parties and trade unions.

As is generally known, Lenin believed in a highly centralized
organization of professional revolutionaries. They were to be
'professional" in the sense that they should devote their whole
time to revolutionary activity. The writing of revolutionary litera-
ture, its dissemination, the organization of strikes, demonstrations,
and other activities directed toward the overthrow of the estab-
lished order could no longer be left to persons for whom it was
an avocation.12 "Secrecy is such a necessary condition for such an
organization," Lenin stated, "that all other conditions (number
and selection of members, functions, etc.) must all be subordi-
nated to it." 13 As a result of these conditions, he argued, power
would have to be concentrated in the hands of a small number of
leaders.14

It is significant that Leninist doctrine recognized clearly the
need for a system of status, authority, and discipline within the
Party as a means for achieving the goal of a new society, while

64 Leninist Theory and Practice

at the same time it took very little account of these necessities in
the organization of the new society itself. By means of a con-
spiratorial elite the Bolsheviks hoped to set up a regime that
would eliminate the bureaucracy and other authoritarian features
of bourgeois society and create the conditions for the widest pos-
sible participation of the masses in the processes of government.
The Bolsheviks were aware of the conflict between the needs
of conspiracy and their professed objectives of freedom, whether
of the "bourgeois-democratic" or socialist variety. In the course
of their prerevolutionary history they gradually evolved the prin-
ciples of democratic centralism as a device for reconciling the
conflict

Democratic centralism; the answer to the problem of
authority?

The term "democratic centralism" seems to have grown up
and become accepted as part of the current coin of discussion in
Russian Marxist circles without finding its way into print for
several years. Its first appearance in an oflBcial Party declaration
was at the Tammerfors Conference of the Bolshevik wing of
the Party in December 1905. On this occasion it was briefly re-
ferred to as the "indisputable" basis of Party organization.15 It
nevertheless remained undefined in official Party statements until
after the November Revolution. Until 1906 the word does not
occur in any of Lenin's voluminous writings on problems of
Party organization.

Since the Bolsheviks have adopted the principle of democratic
centralism as the theoretical basis not only of lie Russian Com-
munist Party but also of the Communist International and the
Soviet State itself, it is worth while to point out the forces that
shaped this ingenious conception. We shall begin with the central-
ist half of the idea, which emphasizes theories of discipline and
authority.

Although the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party had held
its first Congress in 1898, adopted a formal statute and rules of
procedure, and issued a manifesto, this unity on paper was all
the Russian Marxists were able to achieve for several years. Until

Dilemma of Means and Ends 65

after the 1903 Congress the Party existed in the form of a scattered
group of discussion and agitational circles, tied together very
loosely by adherence to a common viewpoint. Within these circles
more energy was devoted to attempts to convince the other mem-
bers of the correctness of a particular shading of the Marxist
Weltanschauung than to the overthrow of the Tsarist regime, a
feature that was destined to be carried over to much later times.
Together with this high valuation on theoretical polemics, the
circles were characterized by the absence of any strong spirit of
compromise or give-and-take. Differences of opinion were re-
solved, as Lenin observed in 1902, not by votes according to the
Party rules of procedure, but by struggles and the threat of resig-
nation.16 It is difficult to imagine more unpromising material out
of which to weld a coherent, disciplined, and secretive organiza-
tion of revolutionaries.

Yet this is the very task which Lenin undertook in earnest in
1902. It is readily understandable that at this time, in the light
of the human material with which he had to work and the condi-
tions of police repression, he was highly impatient with demands
for strict adherence to democratic procedures. There are therefore
in his early writings, which laid the foundations of the Party
organization, few if any hints of democratic centralism. Indeed,
the opposite is the rule. Lenin fought tooth and nail to give as
much power as possible to the directing core of the Party, and
to cut down as far as possible the power of the local units. In
the organizational proposals of his opponents within the Party at
that time he criticized sharply the "misplaced and immoderate use
of the elective principle."17 He poured vitriol upon the "high
sounding phrases ... of Tbroad democracy* in the Party organi-
zation** which he considered "nothing more than a useless and
harmful toy." It is useless, he added, because as a matter of fact
no revolutionary organisation has ever practised broad democ-
racy, nor could it, however much it desired to do so. It is a harm-
ful toy, because any attempt to practise the Abroad democratic
principles' will simply facilitate the work of the police in making
big raids, it will perpetuate the prevailing primitiveness, divert
the thoughts Of practical workers from the serious and imperative

66 Leninist Theory and Practice

task of training themselves to become professional revolutionaries
to that of drawing up detailed 'paper' rules for election sys-
tems." 18 While he agreed that the lower units of the Party should
have the right to bring various questions to the attention of the
higher echelons of the Party, in 1902 he did not want any such
provision included in the Party statutes, for fear of facilitating
police infiltration.19

Although the conceptions of centralization and decentraliza-
tion were current in Party circles at this time, Lenin favored
decentralization only insofar as it implied that the Party center
should have full information about the activities of each local
unit. He drew the metaphor of an orchestra, whose conductor
would have to know exactly which player struck a false note in
order to correct him at once.20 Again later conclusions may be
anticipated by pointing out that in practice it was this aspect
of the theory of Party organization that came to be realized after
the establishment and consolidation of the Soviet regime.

The evidence available does not indicate that Lenin and his
immediate associates regarded this form of highly centralized
discipline as something desirable in itself. On the contrary, they
appeared to regard it as a very necessary evil that should be
done away with when the conditions of Tsarist repression were
lightened. During the period of temporary freedom that marked
the revolution of 1905, Lenin offered a resolution to the Third
Party Congress, strongly urging that the elective principle receive
greater application within the Party* Declaring that while the
complete operation of this principle was possible and necessary
only under the conditions of political freedom, he asserted that
it could be applied much more widely than it was under the con-
ditions then existing.21 Although the resolution was not carried
at the Congress, a closely similar one was adopted as the official
Party position at a Party Conference in Tammerfors in December
of the same year.22

History did not provide the Bolsheviks with a good test case
to prove or disprove their intentions about the temporary nature
of their somewhat autocratic internal discipline. For a moment
it seemed as though the authoritarian trend might be averted.

Dilemma of Means and Ends 67

Upon his return to Russia in April 1917, Lenin announced that
"Russia is now the freest of all the belligerent countries of the
world." 2S Pravda, the chief Bolshevik newspaper, was appearing
openly. For the first time the Party was able to hold its Confer-
ences and Congresses in Russia. However, on July 19, 1917, the
Provisional Government ordered the arrest of Lenin, Zinoviev,
and Kamenev, charging that the Bolsheviks were German spies.
Lenin and Zinoviev decided to go into hiding, justifying their
action on the grounds that "there are no guarantees of a fair trial
in Russia at the present moment" and that "all the accusations
against us are a simple episode of the civil war," 24

During this interregnum period, the problems of Party organ-
ization were discussed at the Sixth Congress, held in August 1917,
while nearly all the top Party leaders— Lenin, Trotsky, Zinoviev,
Kamenev— were in hiding or under arrest. Very little interest
appears to have been aroused by problems of inner Party democ-
racy, since only a few moments were spent discussing this ques-
tion. In the light of renewed police activity, it is understandable
that there was no strong demand to put democratic centralism
into practice. However, in some circles of the Party there was
discontent with the prevailing state of inner Party affairs, as
shown by the following interchange which took place during the
voting on the new Party bylaws, section by section.

Zaks [who achieved the reputation of "conscience of the Party"]
reads Section 5: "5. All organizations of the Party are constructed ac-
cording to the principles of democratic centralism/*

Skripnik [an important leader of the Party in the Ukraine] : "The
organizational section should have deciphered what this point means.
In this formulation it ought to be thrown out, for it is not a decision,
it is not a section of the by-laws, but a wish."

Section 5 is put to a vote and is passed by 16 in favor and 5 op-
posed.

Soloviev [a minor delegate] : "I insist on a re-voting of this point,
since not all the comrades took part in the voting.'*

On tibe second voting Section 5 is adopted by a majority of 23
votes.25

When the democratic aspects of democratic centralism are
considered, it is clear that one of the major elements, the re-

68 Leninist Theory and Practice

sponsibility of executive groups to the body that has elected them,
was recognized from the very beginning of the Party's history as
an organized group. The first Congress of the Party in 1898 de-
cided that the Central Committee, the major central and executive
organ, should be guided in its decisions by the general directives
laid down at the Party Congresses.26

Lenin's contributions to the democratic aspects of the doc-
trine were apparently motivated by quite specific circumstances,
basically the fact that he was out of power in the Party. When
Lenin was in power in the Party, he beat the drums for disci-
pline and authority. When out of power, he beat the drums
equally effectively for the right of free discussion and other dem-
ocratic conceptions. In the beginning, Lenin's opponents within
the Party were the strongest advocates of democratic procedures.
On later occasions, when the Bolsheviks were a vociferous mi-
nority within the Party, the positions were reversed.

Although Lenin and his followers had won a majority and car-
ried most of their proposals at the Second Congress of the Rus-
sian Social Democratic Labor Party in 1903 (whence the name
Bolshevik from the Russian word boTshe meaning "larger"),
soon afterwards they found themselves the weaker fraction. In
February 1905, Lenin complained that the Mensheviks had
"more money, more literature, more ways to distribute it, more
agents, more big names, more contributors." ^

The following year a brief reconciliation between the Bol-
shevik and Menshevik wings of the Party took place, formalized
at the Stockholm Congress of 1906. At this Congress the Men-
sheviks predominated and were able to carry their views on
certain important topics, particularly the peasant question. Un-
der these conditions Lenin turned again to the democratic as-
pects of Russian Marxist theory, elaborating and defining them,
in the hopes of winning converts to Bolshevik views.28

In connection with the discussion of the attitude that the
Bolshevik losers should take, Lenin gave a fairly full account
of their interpretation of the allegedly accepted principle of dem-
ocratic centralism. While the principle may have won general
acceptance on a high level of abstraction, there were sharp con-

Dilemma of Means and Ends 69

flicts between the Bolsheviks and the Mensheviks concerning
what it meant at the level of day-to-day behavior in Party con-
troversies. It is one of the many ironies of Bolshevik history
that the present-day interpretation of democratic centralism is
much closer to the Menshevik version of 1906 than it is to
Lenin's. This superficial paradox is readily explained by the fact
that at that particular time the Mensheviks were in power and
therefore advocated a restricted interpretation of democratic cen-
tralism.

Lenin summed up the essence of democratic centralism in the
familiar phrase "freedom in discussion— unity in action." 29 At this
general level there was widespread agreement. In the applica-
tion differences at once became apparent. The Mensheviks wanted
to avoid criticism of the decisions of the recent Congress in pub-
lic gatherings, although they agreed that such criticism should
be freely permitted in closed Party circles. Lenin on the con-
trary insisted on the free discussion of the decisions, both before
the general public and before closed Party groups.30 He was
especially vehement in his assertions that those decisions with
which he disagreed should be subjected to widespread analysis
in the Party press and all sorts of local Party gatherings. He de-
manded that each and every workers' organization should, with
full knowledge of the facts, declare its approval or disapproval
of the Congress decisions. In particular they should have the
opportunity to express their opinion of the Party's decisions on
the peasant question "without fear of destroying the proletariat's
unity in action/' The argument he advanced was that the resolu-
tion on the peasant question concerned action to be taken some
time in the unspecified future, and that therefore present-day
debate would not interfere with unity of action.81

One may easily perceive that this interpretation of freedom
of discussion is much broader than that which later became ac-
cepted Party doctrine. After the November Revolution it be-
came a very severe violation of Party discipline to attack a
policy upon which the Party had, through the decision of a Con-
gress, adopted an official viewpoint This more restricted defini-
tion of Party discipline and the operation of democratic cen-

70 Leninist Theory and Practice

tralism was promulgated in the first set of Party bylaws adopted
after the November Revolution (1919).82

Concerning the other half of the slogan of democratic cen-
tralism, "unity of action," Lenin still advocated in 1906 a re-
stricted definition. As an example he gave the problem of whether
or not to participate in the coming elections of the Second Duma.
Lenin favored participation in the Second Duma, although he
had been in favor of boycotting the First Duma.33 Thus he ar-
gued: "The Congress has decided— we will all vote where elec-
tions are held. At the time of the election, no criticism of partici-
pation in the elections. The action of the proletariat must be
unified. The Social Democratic fraction in the Duma, when this
fraction will exist, we will all of us always recognize as our Party
fraction." S4 By way of further explanation he added: "The prin-
ciple of democratic centralism and of autonomy of the local
[Party] units means namely full and universal freedom of criti-
cism, so long as unity in a specific action is not destroyed thereby
—and the inadmissibility of any criticism whatever which under-
mines or makes difficult unity of any action decided upon by the
Party"85

Under roughly parallel circumstances, Lenin added in 1907
the conception of a referendum as an essential part of the proc-
ess of democratic centralism. The immediate situation was again
a question of electoral tactics, upon which Lenin apparently be-
lieved he had the support of the powerful St. Petersburg Party
organization against the Party leadership. On this occasion Lenin
declared that the democratic organization of the Party required
that on all important questions the point of view of each and
every individual Party member should be ascertained.86 To this
doctrine of referendum may be traced the post-revolutionary
practice of holding formal Party discussions, in which certain
controversial questions were thrown open to general discussion
from conflicting points of view.

In general, the concept of democratic centralism was an orig-
inal contribution, at least at the theoretical level, to the problem
of reconciling the need for a system of status, authority, and
discipline with the requirements of a democratic system of values*

Dilemma of Means and Ends 71

Before turning to the problem of the way in which the theory of
democratic centralism coincides with practice, it is necessary to
put the doctrine in its proper perspective with a few remarks
on the Bolshevik theory concerning the role of force and violence
in social organization.

Terror and violence in Leninist theory

Bolshevik doctrine on the use of terror and violence was
formulated at an early stage. Of violence in general, it is suf-
ficient to point out that the essence of Lenin's contribution to
Marxism lies in his effort to restore violent revolution to its place
as a major element in Marxist calculations. This was the central
theme in Bolshevik attacks on the revisionist theories of Marxism
that had grown up under the more peaceful conditions of Ger-
man socialist development, even though Lenin never realized
the degree to which the rank and file of the German Socialists
supported such doctrines. Concerning individual acts of terror,
the Bolsheviks sought to differentiate themselves from their non-
Maixist predecessors. "We have never rejected terror on princi-
ple, nor can we do so," Lenin asserted in 190LS7 From this point
of view, terror was a device that the Bolsheviks should not hesi-
tate to use, when the situation called for it. But individual acts
of heroism and terror, unless they were carried out "in close con-
nection and complete harmony with the whole system of fight-
ing," might merely lead to the distraction of both Party lead-
ers and rank-and-file members from more significant political
goals.

In this doctrine there is a reflection of Marxist determinism. If
political events are determined largely by the broad sweep of
economic developments and the relationships between the pro-
ductive classes of society, the assassination of single individuals is
unlikely to have profound effects. There is still a further element
in the negative Bolshevik attitude toward acts of individual
terror. From the Bolshevik viewpoint, force was not enough by
itself to enable any group to hold power, once power had been
achieved by revolutionary means. Lenin put the matter succincdy
shortly before he was to assume power: "The guillotine only

72 Leninist Theory and Practice

intimidated, it only crushed active resistance. For us that is not
enough." M In other words, the Bolsheviks regarded consensus as
necessary for effective political action, while force was to be a
mere auxiliary. It should be used without squeamishness in
crisis situations against the enemies of the revolution, as the con-
cept of the dictatorship of the proletariat suggests. Yet it was con-
sidered a temporary expedient that would eventually disappear
altogether with the withering away of the state.

Contrast between theory and practice

An analysis may now be made of how far the theory of Party
organization, as exemplified in Lenin's conception of a conspira-
torial elite, the doctrine of democratic centralism, and the use
of violence, corresponded to the actual behavior of the Party in
prerevolutionary times. There is considerable evidence for the
conclusion that, contrary to Bolshevik hopes, the organization of
the Party was much looser in the period of the conspiratorial
underground than it became following the seizure of power. To
be sure, Party policy was determined almost entirely by the in-
tellectuals at the apex of the Party organization. At the various
Party Congresses the intellectuals heavily outnumbered the work-
ers.*9 The executive organs of the Party, its nerve center, were
composed exclusively of intellectuals. Among them Lenin played
the outstanding role. In several crucial instances he was able
to bring about a shift in Party policy almost singlehandedly
through the force of his personal prestige alone. One such in-
stance was the ideological shift on the question of the proletarian
dictatorship, announced by Lenin on his return in April 1917
to Russia, which has already been mentioned in Chapter 1.

Another controversy, which reveals the mechanics of decision-
making at the apex of the Party and Lenin's role therein, con-
cerned the date and technique of the actual seizure of power*
This crisis occurred in October and November 1917. For some
time Lenin had been arguing in favor of armed insurrection, win-
ning adherents to his views in the top circles of the Party. In the
course of the controversy Lenin showed little regard for the
formal requirements of Party discipline. On several occasions he

Dilemma of Means and Ends 73

went over the heads of the Central Committee, sending copies of
his letters and messages to the more important local Party or-
ganizations, and seeing to it that extra copies of his appeals got
into the hands of the more active local Party workers.40 At one
time he resigned from the Central Committee in order to agitate
among the rank and file of the Party in favor of his views,
though the resignation was apparently ignored or passed over.
A few days later Kamenev resigned from the Central Com-
mittee on the ground that Lenin's policy was highly dangerous.41
Kamenev's resignation was apparently not accepted either, since
he was present at the meeting which adopted the resolution in
favor of insurrection, though he voted against it.42

Shortly afterward it was Kamenev's turn to appeal to the rank
and file, and eventually to the general public, in the course of
which he again resigned from the Central Committee, accom-
panied by Zinoviev, Lenin's close collaborator during their exile
in Switzerland.48 Evidently Lenin's 1902 comment that disputes
were not settled according to Party statutes but by threats of
resignation still held good, though the Party had supposedly left
this stage behind more than a decade before.

On October 81, Kamenev and Zinoviev published in a non-
Party newspaper, controlled by Maxim Gorky, an attack on the
Party's plans for insurrection, without, however, revealing the
date. Their action placed Lenin in a predicament that is not
without its humorous aspects. In a letter to the Central Com-
mittee discussing this dilemma he declared:

Kamenev's and Zinoviev's outbreak in the non-Party press was
despicable for the added reason that the Party was not in a position to
refute their slanderous lie openly. . . .

How can the Central Committee refute that?

We cannot tell the capitalists the truth, namely that we have
decided on a strike and have decided to conceal the moment chosen
for it.

We cannot refute the slanderous lie of Zinoviev and Kamenev
without doing still greater damage to the cause.**

The significance of this revealing incident lies not only in
the violations of formal Party discipline of which both sides

74 Leninist Theory and Practice

were guilty. It lies also in the appeals and threats of appeal to
the rank and file of the Party. Later schisms after the seizure of
power were to be concealed from the rank and file, though their
exclusion from the decision-making process and the concentra-
tion of even greater powers at the apex of the Party system was
a gradual process that was not completed until after Stalin's
accession to power. Another significant feature of these early
quarrels was the relative absence of vindictiveness. Both Ka-
menev and Zinoviev soon obtained posts of marked responsibility
under the Soviet regime. Later struggles were to end with the
imprisonment and death of defeated factional leaders, includ-
ing these two individuals.45 The quarrels just described reveal the
importance attached to the opinions of the rank and file. In prac-
tice, the chief role of the latter appears to have been that of
choosing between alternative policies and points of view pre-
sented by the Party leaders.

According to Party bylaws, the mechanism through which
the rank and file was to exert its influence was the Party Con-
gress. In addition to the Congress there was the Party Confer-
ence, a similar gathering of delegates, held at more frequent
intervals than the Congresses before the Revolution. Although
the Congress was theoretically more important than the Con-
ference, in practice there was no apparent distinction between
the two. In this connection it is worth noting that the Party by-
laws of 1903, 1905, 1906, 1907, and 1917 all included a provision
that regular Congresses be held annually.48 (The bylaws made
no mention of the Conferences.) Since only six Congresses and
thirteen Conferences (some of which had very limited representa-
tion) took place between the official founding of the Party in
1898 and the November Revolution, it is clear that the oppor-
tunities provided by such meetings for the expression of rank-
and-file opinion were somewhat restricted even in prerevolution-
ary times.

Nevertheless, the Congresses and Conferences were character-
ized by open debates at which the conflicting views were often
heatedly set forth by various Party leaders. For those who could
attend the sessions and bring back reports to their local Party

Dilemma of Means and Ends 75

units, there was no lack of opportunity to hear the arguments
presented on both sides. Because of the police the gatherings
were held outside Russia until 1917. As much as possible, efforts
were made to insure adequate representation and attendance at
these meetings, although this was not always easy to achieve.
In connection with one such gathering, held in Germany in the
beginning of 1912, Lenin finally became convinced that the Mos-
cow delegate must have been arrested. Without a delegate from
Moscow Lenin was unwilling to begin the sessions. Therefore,
he requested one of his associates to send someone to Moscow
to arrange for the election of a new delegate.47 Whether he
would have gone to such lengths to secure a replacement from
a less important section of the Party than Moscow is rather doubt-
ful. As a rule, to avoid such situations, alternates were chosen
for the more important Party positions, a procedure that still
survives in the choice of alternates for the Party Central Com-
mittee.

The discussion of issues that were to be raised at the Congress
was not confined to the Congress itself. Theses and summaries
of divergent points of view were circulated among the member-
ship for comment and discussion well in advance of the meeting.
According to Piatnitsky's Memoirs, the agenda of the Party Con-
gress of 1907 were circulated among all the local organizations
of the Party. In addition, the Central Committee decided to
send Bolshevik and Menshevik speakers to each meeting for
comment on the main resolutions of each faction.48 While the
Congresses and Conferences represented somewhat more formal
occasions for the discussion of policy, the ideological battles and
wars of pamphlets and brochures continued unabated between
these occasions. The rank and file of the Party had access to
these materials, although their understanding of them was per-
haps limited to what could be presented in simple and slogan-like
form.

A high degree of factionalism formed a prominent feature
of the Party's attempts to reach policy decisions both before and
after 1917. Because of this a large proportion of the group's hos-
tility toward the Tsarist system was turned inward against in-

76 Leninist Theory and Practice

ternal opponents. Lenin, in his firm belief that the Party must
be purged of unreliable elements before it could be an effective
political instrument, deliberately increased the degree of internal
factional tension. The following incident is a characteristic one.
At an important Party gathering Piatnitsky complained about the
uncomradely personal attacks that were appearing anonymously
in the Party press, and read several excerpts aloud. A somewhat
obtuse chairman, who did not realize that Piatnitsky was read-
ing from the Party press, reproved him for using such insulting
language. At this point, Lenin announced that he was the author
of the articles, whereupon all burst out laughing.49

Internal quarrels were encouraged with considerable success
by the Tsarist police in order to weaken the Russian Marxists.
The greatest fear of the police seems to have been that Men-
sheviks and Bolsheviks might succeed in settling their differ-
ences and form a unified opposition. Perhaps the most dramatic
case of this type is to be found in the career of Roman Malinov-
sky, one of four police agents who succeeded at various times in
gaining Lenin's close confidence. Malinovsky attended the Prague
Conference of the Bolshevik wing of the Party in January 1912
as a police spy, and so captivated Lenin that he became a mem-
ber of the Bolshevik Central Committee and Lenin's choice for
the Duma. His election was facilitated by the arrest of a com-
peting candidate. Since both the police and Lenin were anxious
to split the Russian Social Democratic Labor Party, Malinovsky
had little difficulty in following the instructions of both. In
a short time his efforts were successful. The Party's unified frac-
tion in the Duma was split. Malinovsky resigned from the Duma
in May 1914, after creating an artificial uproar, in order to pre-
vent the scandal of potential exposure. At this time the chair-
man of the Duma was informed by the police about Malinovsky's
double role, and his usefulness as a spy came to an end. Mean-
while, suspicions that he might be a spy had arisen within the
Party itself, particularly in Menshevik circles. Since Lenin con-
tinued to defend him, these suspicions served to deepen the
Party split.50

Dilemma of Means and Ends 77

In general, the Party's relationships with the police had the
curious effect of both increasing and diminishing internal soli-
darity. The formal, and presumably most approved, type of rela-
tionship with the police was one of hostility toward an out group.
Piatnitsky's account again provides useful testimony:

Since those who were arrested used to be beaten at the police
stations, there was danger that while under examination they might
involuntarily and unconsciously disclose their comrades. Therefore,
the active and class-conscious comrades carried on energetic propa-
ganda on how to conduct oneself when arrested and questioned.
(Later on a special booklet on that subject was even published; I
think by the Bund.) Those who did not conduct themselves properly
when questioned were expelled from the workers' midst, and were
shunned like the plague. Those who deliberately gave away their
comrades were dealt with unmercifully and summarily.51

From this account it is clear that the individual Party member
under the stress of police interrogation would have strong mo-
tivation for remaining loyal to his organization. Nevertheless, the
police were able to persuade a number of members to act as in-
formers and agents provocateurs. There is good evidence for
the conclusion that the top Party leaders, as distinct from the
rank and file, did not always discourage a man from turning in-
former, since by his connections with the police he might be
able to serve the Party in a useful fashion. In at least one such
instance it appears that a "double agent" of this variety obtained
material from the police on the identity of other agents provoca-
teurs in the Party.62

Under the prevailing conditions of police surveillance it was
extremely difficult, if not impossible, for the selection of leader-
ship within the Party to take place along democratic lines. It is
safe to conclude that in this respect democratic centralism was
honored chiefly in the breach. Within Russia the Bolshevik or-
ganizations, as a rule, selected their leaders by cooptation, ac-
cording to Piatnitsky, who had wide experience with these mat-
ters. In the various factories Bolsheviks who worked there co-
opted to membership other workers whom they considered to

78 Leninist Theory and Practice

be devoted to the cause. The regional committees of the large
towns divided among their members the tasks of uniting all Party
cells of a given district or subdistrict. Organizers of the sub-
districts coopted persons of their choice from among the Party
cells to serve on the subdistrict committee. If one member of the
committee was arrested or moved away, he was replaced by co-
option. This was the procedure up to the level of city commit-
tees. When a city committee was arrested as a body, the Party
Central Committee designated one or more Party members to
form a new committee. Those appointed in turn coopted suitable
members from among the local workers to complete the new com-
mittee.63

Outside Russia, among the organizations of exiles, which at
many points in the Party's history constituted the heart and brain
of the organization, cooption was applied with very great fre-
quency. Many of the early Party quarrels revolved around in-
trigues formed over the choice of editors for the Party publica-
tions and similar positions of importance. At the Congresses and
Conferences of the Party it appears that the elections to the
Central Committee were secret, in order to safeguard the persons
chosen, although everybody at the meeting knew the identity
of the candidates.54

Prolonged acquaintance with the literature of early Bolshevism
is likely to give rise to the impression that a disproportionate
amount of this group's energy was turned inward on matters of
internal organization, factional struggles, and the like. Never-
theless, Bolshevik activities directed toward the outside world,
which assumed rapidly increasing importance following Lenin's
return to Russia in April 1917, deserve brief mention.

Systematic Bolshevik propaganda after 1900 included as its
major targets industrial workers, students, and peasants, among
whom a good deal was done by word of mouth (the peasants
were largely illiterate), and members of the Russian armed forces,
Some notion of the extent of the distribution of Russian Marxist
propaganda in prerevolutionary times may be gleaned from the
following partial figures given by Iskra (The Spark),69 at one
time Lenin's chief mouthpiece:

Dilemma of Means and Ends 79

Name of committee Date No. of No. of

types of copies

proclamations

Don Committee 1902 46 60,000

Siberian Union March- 13 40,000

April 1903
Odessa Committee April- 12 50,000

May 1903

July 1- 39 108,000

October 1
Gornozavodsky Union March- 39 104,500

September 1903

Although these figures must be taken with several spoonfuls of
salt, they strongly suggest the existence of an organization that
has developed beyond the stage of intellectual discussions to a
genuine attempt to influence mass opinion.

Bolshevik propaganda found its greatest effect in military
circles, probably since disaffection was already widespread, both
in 1905 and again in the World War after the March revolution
of 1917. In 1905 the Bolsheviks played a leading, though not
exlusive, role in the dramatic mutiny of the cruiser Potemkin.
For thirteen days this vessel cruised the Black Sea under the
control of her rebellious sailors, led by members of the Odessa
committee of the Party.56 Further mutinies took place the next
summer at Kronstadt, under the local leadership of the Finnish
Party members.57 In 1917, after the failure of the Kornilov at-
tempt at counterrevolution, the disintegration of the Russian
army proceeded rapidly. (It is significant that disaffection was
much greater among troops in barracks than among those ex-
posed to the danger and discomfort of the front. ) While the Bol-
sheviks after the seizure of power tried to shift the blame for
this disintegration onto other factors, a very careful and com-
petent student concludes that Bolshevik influence among the
masses of soldiers was a major source of this collapse.58

Terror and violence were used by the Bolsheviks in pre-
revolutionary times chiefly as a means for financing their ac-
tivities, and only secondarily as a political weapon. A favorite

80 Leninist Theory and Practice

project was the looting of the cash funds of banks in transit
One of Stalin's early claims to fame in Bolshevik circles derives
from his alleged role as a behind-the-scenes organizer of such
a robbery in Tiflis.59 These terrorist activities were under the
direction of a Bolshevik Center, composed of Lenin, Krassih, an
engineer with wide connections in bourgeois circles, and Bog-
danov, a writer, philosopher, and economist. This Bolshevik
Center was accused of exercising a secret dictatorship within
the Party behind the backs of the Central Committee.60 The
secret "technical office" of the Central Committee in St. Peters-
burg was able to turn out 150 bombs a day. Arms were also ob-
tained from soldiers, especially those recently returned from the
Far East.61 On several occasions the Bolsheviks carried out their
exploits in cooperation with other revolutionary groups, the
Anarchists and Socialist Revolutionaries.

The fact that the Bolsheviks were known to be willing to use
terror added considerable force to their disruptive activities in
other connections, such as street demonstrations, strikes, and the
like. Rumors of what the workers were about to do heightened
the anxiety of the general Russian population and at times gave
even the Party members themselves an exaggerated idea of
their power.62 Such rumors are frequently found in a situation
tense with imminent group conflict; they are closely parallel to
the rumors that circulate among the whites in the Southern
states of the United States at a time of increased tension with
the Negroes.

As might be anticipated, Bolshevik "expropriations" attracted
numerous elements from the criminal fringe, who had no political
objectives whatever. For a time there was evidently a tendency
for local Bolshevik units to degenerate into nothing more than
robber bands without political goals. These difficulties were ag-
gravated by related ones at the higher echelons: accusations of
embezzlement, extortion, and blackmail were bandied about in
a series of internal scandals.03

By the spring of 1907 the fear that these expropriations were
deranging the entire organization was widespread throughout the
Party.64 The Fifth Congress (April 1907), at which the Bolshe-

Dilemma of Means and Ends 81

viks were in a majority, announced that "these anarchist methods
of fighting bring about disorganization in the ranks of the pro-
letariat, obscuring its class consciousness, and giving rise therein
to the illusion of the possibility of replacing its organized strug-
gle by means of the efforts of self-sacrificing, single individuals." 65
Although the dramatic Tiflis robbery took place the following
June, expropriations and similar measures declined in significance.
In the 1917 Revolution there is no indication of acts of individual
terrorism or of robberies organized by the Bolsheviks. Then the
problem of the correct use of force and violence for political ends
involved the persuasion of whole regiments to abandon their
allegiance to tie Provisional Government.

In attempting to appraise the extent to which the Leninist
theories of secrecy, discipline, and conspiracy corresponded to
the general pattern of prerevolutionary behavior, one is likely
to conclude that the Bolsheviks were a strange form of conspira-
torial elite, if indeed that term may be accurately applied to them
at all. If the Tsarist police were at crucial times in the dark con-
cerning Bolshevik intentions, as has been stated by one of the
highest police officers,66 that situation must have been the result
of truly extraordinary incapacity on the part of the authorities.
With all their emphasis on secrecy, the Bolsheviks made no
secret of either their general tactics or their aims. Instead, they
discussed them in innumerable pamphlets, books, and newspaper
articles, both in Russia and abroad. Their discipline was violated
frequently, and on highly critical occasions, such as just before
the seizure of power. Democratic centralism seems, on the basis
of the available evidence, to have been more of a pious wish than
a basis for political decision-making.

From the point of view of the present study the most significant
feature of the ground covered so far is the contrast between the
aims and the methods of Bolshevism. In this contrast there is a
double paradox. Lenin and his followers set out to achieve for
humanity the goals of freedom and equality by means of an or-
ganization that denied these same principles. It was anticipated
that the denial would be temporary and that the fruits of victory
would bring the goals desired. Instead, discipline, authority, and

82 Leninist Theory and Practice

inequality had to be intensified after victory. To what extent the
experiences of political responsibility have led to a revision of
theory, and to what extent theory has been a guide to action in
the difficult task of adjustment to new experiences— these are the
questions we must attempt to answer in the succeeding chapters.

PART TWO

THE DILEMMA OF AUTHORITY FROM
LENIN TO STALIN

Victory Creates Dilemmas

The problems faced

By the successful coup d'6tat of November 7, 1917 9 the Bolshe-
viks passed from opposition to political responsibility. For the next
decade and a half they faced five closely interrelated problems
of major significance. The answer chosen for any one of these
problems very largely determined the answers given to all the
rest The details varied during the period under discussion, as did
the answers presented by different factions within the Party.
Nevertheless, one may readily discern the continuity of the
major problems down to the time when Stalin was firmly estab-
lished in power.

One of these problems was how to organize industry in the
new toilers' state. In turn, this problem broke down into a series
of questions that have to be faced by any economy. What should
the factories of Russia produce—guns or butter, shoes or butter-
fly nets? The answer was only partly given by the nature of
existing plants and their capacity. Another question, and perhaps
the most vexing one, was how to combine machinery, men, and
raw materials in an effective manner in order to produce the
goods. The managers and engineers who had performed fhiy
function under the old regime were by and large hostile to the
new one. Furthermore, the Bolsheviks were by their doctrine
committed to the elimination of private property in the means
of production and the institutional mechanisms of capitalism that
had in the past performed the functions of joining labor, plant,
and raw materials. In the third place, there was the question of
distributing the products of industry. Should this be done by

86 The Dilemma of Authority

means of money, by a universal system of rationing without the
use of money, by the combination of the two, or by some other
device? Finally, there was the question of replacing old ma-
chinery with new and of increasing the industrial capacity of
a primarily peasant country. Except to bar most of the answers
given by the past, the literature of Marxism provided few if
any answers to this complex of pressing questions.

A second major problem, or series of questions, closely con-
nected with the preceding ones, concerned the status and or-
ganization of the industrial workers in the toilers' state. Would
labor unions continue to be necessary in the new society? What
would their functions be? How was the necessary discipline of
labor to be achieved?

Still a third crucial problem was how to get the peasant to
produce enough to feed the workers of the towns. At the same
time, a way had to be found to make this vast majority of the
population support the regime or at least refrain from active and
effective opposition. The peasant might refuse to feed the towns-
man if he olid not receive at least a minimum of salt, kerosene,
cloth, and other manufactured goods from the workers. And even
if this absolute minimum were achieved, it would hardly suf-
fice to support the industrialization of Russia, which both doc-
trine and political expediency seemed to require. As has been
seen, the existing body of theory provided suggestive leads, but
little more, for the answer to this set of questions.

Closely related to all three preceding problems was the ques-
tion of what system of status, authority, and discipline should be
set up within the ruling group, that is, the Communist Party
(as it was called after March 1918 ),* and within the country
as a whole. On this point, at least, Leninist doctrine provided
some fairly definite answers. However, it was soon found that
by no means all of them were workable.

There remains the fifth problem, which with some justifica-
tion was widely regarded as the key to all the others: what
should be the relationship between the new toilers* state and
the rest of the world? If it perished in a brief struggle, as many
of the top leaders thought likely, there would be no other ques-
tions to answer. Should this happen, the best the Bolsheviks

Victory Creates Dilemmas 87

could hope for would be the creation of a glorious tradition like
the Paris Commune which would inspire future generations of
workers to continue the struggle. If, on the other hand, the
toilers' state survived, the problems were much more complex.
How much energy should be devoted to spreading or producing
a socialist conflagration in Europe? Or should the Communists
retire into a socialist fortress? Might it not be necessary to find
at least temporary allies in the capitalist camp? To what extent
could the resources of the capitalist world be tapped in order to
build up the world of socialism? Once again the body of Marxist-
Leninist theory provided a tool of analysis and some tentative
answers, whose adequacy might now be tested.

The five basic problems just sketched were real problems.
That is to say, they were not created by the specific set of values
and desires current among the holders of power. Any group that
took over political responsibility in Russia would have had to
find a way to organize industry, create labor discipline, arrange
for the production of food, develop some system of internal
authority, and conduct relations with other states. A reactionary
supporter of Tsarism, a Manchester Liberal, and a convinced
Marxist would of course develop quite different answers to these
problems. The Bolshevik tradition ruled out some answers that
would have been given by the reactionaries or the liberals, while
it favored others. Within the Bolshevik tradition itself a number
of varying interpretations of the problems and answers to these
questions arose at different times.

Until the time of Stalin's consolidation of power, each "solu-
tion" put into effect by the dominant group in the Communist
Party "solved" one set of problems, only to have them reappear
in the form of a new type of unstable equilibrium in Russian so-
ciety. At each stage the instability of the situation was reflected
in a variety of new proposed solutions, presented by distinct
factions within the Party.

Early controversies and solutions

The problem of the relations between the new revolutionary
state and its capitalist neighbors, still in the midst of the First
World War, was the first one to arise in acute form. Specifically,

88 The Dilemma of Authority

the question in December 1917 concerned peace with Ger-
many. Since the answer to this question would determine the
type of policy that could be followed in Russia itself, Party fac-
tions elaborated answers to the entire series of questions that
has just been outlined.

Lenin, almost alone among the Party leaders, favored sign-
ing peace with the Germans on the latter's terms. A group, call-
ing themselves the Left Wing Communists, led by the Party's
outstanding theorist, Nikolai Bukharin, proposed instead the
slogan of revolutionary war: that is, they demanded a propa-
ganda and revolutionary offensive that would destroy the Ger-
man Empire from within and bring the flames of revolution
to Western Europe. Bukharin's proposal was derived from earlier
doctrines that had been advocated by Lenin before the Revo-
lution. The advantages of such a plan, if there had been any
chance of success, were obvious to the hard-pressed Bolshevik
leaders; the difficulties were not so immediately apparent. Thus
it was possible for a time to promote this conception on both
practical and idealistic grounds, at least until it became clear
that no revolution was around the corner in Germany, It was
on the latter practical basis that Lenin was able to carry through
his policy and compel the signing of the Brest-Litovsk Treaty.

In domestic affairs the Left Wing Communists pushed for
as rapid an approach to socialist goals as possible. They de-
manded a much more rapid and sweeping confiscation of private
enterprises than was being carried out, in order to crush the re-
sistance of the bourgeoisie and achieve a clean break with the
forms of the past. In addition, they opposed the tightening of
discipline over the workers and accused the Bolshevik leaders
of supporting the petty bourgeoisie against the workers.

Although not averse to centralized economic control, at least
in theory, they advocated a form of nationalization which should
embody a considerable measure of "direct democracy" and "com-
mittee management," that is, control by the workers of the fac-
tories in which they were employed* Their alleged object was
to free the "creative impulses" of the masses.2

At first the Left Communists were unsuccessful. But on June

Victory Creates Dilemmas 89

28, 1918, they won at least a partial victory in the decree on
general nationalization. This measure was rapidly applied to
whole industries by a stroke of the pen, and included even quite
small enterprises below the size mentioned in the decree. A
centralized bureaucracy, which attempted to eliminate market
dealings as much as possible by organizing a giant system of
state barter, was quickly established. Under this arrangement
the state financed the enterprises directly, and frequently in
kind, while the enterprises delivered their products directly to
the state for distribution to other enterprises, the countryside,
and the army.

A mixture of ideological and practical considerations ap-
parently produced this shift. Among the more important factors,
and perhaps the immediate cause of the nationalization decree,
was the possibility that the Germans might continue their ad-
vance into the industrial regions of Russia and gain control over
important industrial concerns. There were indications in Berlin
that the Germans planned to claim that major Russian enterprises
were now owned by German citizens, and hence exempt from
any nationalization decree. Lenin acted quickly to forestall such
claims.8 Thus, what appeared to be Utopian idealism under one
set of circumstances became defined as hardheaded practicability
and accepted by those in political power under another set of
circumstances.

War Communism: main road or detour?

The decree on nationalization of June 28, 1918, was the
prelude to the system of War Communism. For the next two
years the Bolshevik regime was fighting a war for survival against
both domestic and foreign enemies. While there were numerous
disagreements on matters of tactics and strategy, under the pres-
sure of the struggle the Party remained overtly united.

The political and economic institutions of War Communism
represented a mixture of apparently Utopian and practical poli-
cies. In industry the system of state-organized barter without the
use of money tended to take the place of free market exchanges.
Factory discipline was put on a semimilitary basis. Within the

90 The Dilemma of Authority

Party also discipline was strengthened. Appointments to office
replaced election to a wider extent than ever before and be-
came the rule in many sectors of political life outside the Party,
such as the trade unions. The peasants were subjected to numer-
ous and purely arbitrary requisitions.4

To what extent was this set of answers to the problems faced
by the new workers' state influenced by Marxist doctrine? Were
these practices regarded as the realization of long awaited goals,
or as the product of unfortunate necessity? At a later date Lenin
described the period of War Communism as a "temporary meas-
ure," and one thrust upon the Bolsheviks by war and ruin. This
statement and other similar ones by Bolshevik leaders have
given rise to the interpretation of War Communism as an im-
provisation which the top Party leaders recognized as tempo-
rary. Only a few academic individuals, according to this view,
regarded the system of War Communism as a major step toward
Marxist goals.5

On the whole, however, the evidence strongly suggests that
the institutions of War Communism were the result of both
ideological and nonideological pressures which for a time oper-
ated in the same direction. The force of circumstances may be
observed from the fact that many of the features of War Com-
munism are familiar devices in capitalist states at war. The par-
tial replacement of monetary incentives to production by others
of a different kind, the introduction of rationing as a restriction
on the operation of a free market in the exchange of goods, and
a high degree of centralized control over the apparatus of pro-
duction have been economic features of capitalist states in both
World Wars. In themselves they can hardly be regarded as
distinctive products of Marxist ideas. In fact, the Russian Marx-
ists based some of their earlier programmatic suggestions on the
institutions of wartime Germany. All this may be granted, yet
there is abundant evidence in the public statements of the most
responsible Bolshevik leaders that at the time War Communism
was in full swing they regarded it as a major step in the direc-
tion of Marxist goals.

In 1919 Lenin himself declared, "The organisation of the Com-

Victory Creates Dilemmas 91

munist activities of the proletariat, as well as the whole pol-
icy of the Communists, has now assumed a final and stable
form, and I am convinced that we are on the right road, and that
progress along this road is fully ensured." 8

The speeches, including Lenin's, made at the Eighth Party
Congress, held at the height of the period of War Communism
in March 1919, gave no hint that the measures adopted were
temporary expedients, to be abandoned as soon as the emer-
gency passed. While recognizing the tremendous difficulties
of the day, they were full of revolutionary enthusiasm and
optimism. Bukharin declared that the Party program, which was
to be adopted at this gathering, was closer to reality and less of
a paper program than any previous one. Many of its demands,
he believed, might be outdated any day by their transforma-
tion into actual achievements.7 He even anticipated the end of
the first stage, the dictatorship of the proletariat and Russia's
development into a classless society in the not too distant future.
"From the exclusive domination of the working class, the dom-
ination of the proletariat, we proceed by degrees, by way of a
whole series of steps, measures, and stages, to the destruction of
classes in general, to the transformation of the proletarian dic-
tatorship and the governing power of the working class into the
stateless and classless communist society." 8

The system of War Communism was a successful attempt in
the trial-and-error process of group adaptation in that it was one
of the factors that enabled the Bolsheviks to remain in power.
That is to say, they won the Civil War, But the system of War
Communism in solving, at least partially, the problem of how to
win the war also created new problems. The double fruits of
the Civil War and the methods of War Communism were politi-
cal unrest and a catastrophic decline in production and consump-
tion. The production of large-scale industry dropped in 1920 to
12.8 per cent of the prewar level. During the summer of 1921
the net output of coal in the Donets Basin fell to the zero point.9
It is conservatively estimated that during this same period the
output of agriculture diminished by at least 30 per cent in com-
parison with the prewar level, perhaps considerably more.10 Even

92 The Dilemma of Authority

more significant from the political point of view was the col-
lapse of the top-heavy system of rationing and distribution, which
reached a stage of operating almost without money.11 As a result,
not all of the reduced supplies of goods produced and available
reached those who needed them.

While political opposition to the Bolsheviks showed itself
most clearly in the form of peasant revolts, there were also nu-
merous signs of discontent among the industrial workers. A revolt
in a section of the Red Navy at Kronstadt, symbolic starting
point of the Bolshevik Revolution, was perhaps the final straw
that brought about an abrupt change of policy and the adop-
tion of the New Economic Policy (NEP) in the spring of 1921.
There is considerable evidence showing that the top leaders of
the Party were aware that the system of War Communism was
leading them into an impasse. Even though they may have be-
lieved that they were on the high road to socialism, Marxist ide-
ology did not completely blind them to the danger signs along the
way. In fact, there were so many signs that some of them later
declared that the highway must have been a detour. Various
alternative routes were proposed as the signs increased, first in
secret sessions among the leaders, and later in the daily press.

Trotsky claims that in February 1920 he advanced a program
similar to the NEP on the basis of his experience in directing
economic work in the Urals, but was voted down in the Party
Central Committee.12 Similarly, Simon Liberman, a non-Party
specialist in charge of the timber organization, asserts that he
brought the situation to Lenin's attention in 1920. Lenin is said
to have replied that he was well aware of the need for changes,
but that he could not "change the banner in the midst of ...
battle" for fear of destroying the enthusiasm of the soldiers
in the Civil War.18 Even the Left Opposition of 1918 had fore-
seen the possibility that a change might be necessary, and had
specifically mentioned the partial restoration of capitalism as a
move that might be forced upon the Party in order to conserve
revolutionary strength in Russia alone.1* Similar ideas probably
circulated among the Party leaders in 1920 and 1921.

Open polemics began with a discussion of the position and

Victory Creates Dilemmas 93

function of the trade unions in the new toilers* state, but spread
rapidly to more general questions. Much of the discussions con-
cerned the prevailing system of status and authority. Trotsky
proposed the extension of military discipline to the labor front,
with the selection of leaders from above as the chief way out of
the dilemma. Other sections of the Party, which became known
as the Workers' Opposition and the Group for Democratic Cen-
tralism, took a diametrically opposite point of view, claiming that
the major source of difficulty lay in the growing power of the
top Party leadership, which was supposedly leading toward a
bureaucratic stiffening and paralysis of the new regime.15

Retreat to the NEP

The Party controversies that closed the period of War Com-
munism scarcely touched upon the problem that to Lenin, at
this particular moment, held the key to all the others. In 1917-
1918 he had seen the crux of the matter in foreign affairs and
peace with Germany. Now he found it in the relationship be-
tween the peasants and the town workers. Impatiently brushing
aside the Party discussions about the trade unions and the sys-
tem of authority in the Party and country at large, he forced
through the famous New Economic Policy, officially promul-
gated in March 1921. As in the case of Brest-Litovsk he found
it necessary to use all his power of persuasion and personal pres-
tige in order to compel the adoption of policies that seemed to
many a betrayal of ideals.

The central measure of the NEP was the granting to the peas-
antry of the right to trade in the open market in whatever
produce they had left, after a certain specified amount had been
turned over to the government. This decision meant the return
of the profit motive and exchange relationships to an important
sector of the economy. In the field of industry the government
retreated to the "commanding heights" of control over banking,
transportation, and certain large industries, permitting private
enterprise to take over the rest In one of his speeches Lenin
candidly described the NEP as a partial return to capitalism.
He declared that Communists would now have to become good

94 The Dilemma of Authority

traders and learn to beat the capitalist at his own game. No
wonder a member of the Workers' Opposition referred to the
NEP as the "New Exploitation of the Proletariat"!

The problem as Lenin saw it was basically one of obtaining
a proper exchange of goods between the partly socialized indus-
trial sector and the individually owned agricultural sector, Un-
der War Communism the government had taken nearly every-
thing it could get from the peasant and had returned to the peas-
ant what industrial products could be spared from other needs,
largely without the intervention of money. At the end of the
Civil War the system broke down, since there were no adequate
incentives for production and no adequate measurements of
costs. It was hoped, and the hopes were eventually justified, that
through new exchange relationships incentives would be pro-
vided which would bring greater production in both industry
and agriculture.16

At the same time the Bolshevik leadership did not give up all
hope of ultimately bringing the peasant to participate in a so-
cialist society, even though the goal was postponed to a very
indefinite future. The scattered attempts to set up socialist peas-
ant communities, begun on certain large estates during the en-
thusiastic days of War Communism, were summarily abandoned.
Instead, socialist hopes were placed in the cooperative move-
ment, In one of his last writings Lenin declared: "If the whole
of the peasantry were organized in cooperatives, we would be
standing firmly with both feet on the soil of Socialism/*17 But
at least one or two decades would be needed, he felt, before the
way of life of the tradition-bound Russian peasant could be
changed and this goal achieved.18

In the meantime events in the international arena had led to
a pessimistic reappraisal of revolutionary possibilities, at least for
the time being, especially after the defeat of the Red Army before
Warsaw in the summer of 1920. Instead of carrying the revolu-
tionary torch, the Russian leaders found themselves increasingly
engaged in ordinary diplomatic negotiations and employing the
traditional tactics of balance-of-power politics. Nevertheless, the
revolutionary torch was not altogether extinguished. When it

Victory Creates Dilemmas 95

seemed, during the twenties, that revolutionary forces might be
harnessed to strengthen the international position of the USSR,
attempts were made again to light the flames.

The NEP represented a solution to the problems facing Rus-
sia in the second decade of the twentieth century, in that the
major social and economic institutions could again function. By
1923 the decline in population was arrested. Between 1915 and
1923 the total population losses are estimated to have been about
nine million, with the heaviest losses falling in 1919 and 1920,
or during the period of War Communism.19 By 1926-1927 gross
industrial production had regained the level reached in 1913,
though the production of iron ore was only 52 per cent of the
earlier level.20 Grain production had recovered more slowly and
had not reached the prewar level, especially in regard to market-
able surplus, by the end of the NEP period. Nevertheless, the
recovery was very substantial, amounting, with a 10 per cent
increase in population, to 4 centners per person in 1927-1928,
in comparison with 4.9 centners per person in 1913.21

Despite this economic recovery, Russian society remained in
a state of unstable equilibrium. The reasons for this situation
were that the forces of recovery were largely anti-Bolshevik, or,
at best, passively opposed to the new regime. A substantial por-
tion of the industrial recovery resulted from the recovery of the
retail trade and smaller consumption industries, which were not
in government hands. Likewise, the peasantry was largely be-
yond Bolshevik control. The exact figures were a matter of hot
dispute in the controversies of the time, but there is no doubt
about the situation as a whole.

In this respect the dilemma facing the Communist Party at the
end of the NEP was very largely one of ideology and political
power. If a group of Manchester Liberals had been in control of
Russia at this time, they would not have perceived any dilemma.
They would have been content to let the social and economic
forces of the day have their full play, with the probable conse-
quences that Russia would have developed along more or less
familiar capitalist lines. Presumably, they would have disman-
tled at an even earlier date the entire apparatus of govern-

96 The Dilemma of Authority

ment controls that were a product of the war years, instead of
retreating to the commanding heights of industry as the Bolshe-
viks did in 1921. But Russia was not in the hands of Manches-
ter Liberals, and the question of what steps ought to be taken
produced open and bitter struggles within the Communist elite.

Alternative Solutions

The legacy of Lenin

In solving the problems posed by War Communism through
the measures taken under the NEP, Lenin overcame one set of
difficulties and created a host of new ones. Such in its essentials
was the legacy he bequeathed to those who competed for his
mantle.

In the course of the struggle over issues and personalities,
which began with Lenin's illness and partial incapacitation in
1922 and became acute even before his death in January 1924,
the Party remained overtly united upon two fundamental objec-
tives. In the first place, there was complete unity on the goal
of retaining power in Communist hands. Also, there was broad
agreement on the desirability of achieving at some future date
a socialist transformation of Russian society.

Given this unity on objectives, there was room for sharp dis-
agreement about the way to achieve them, Industrialization
might be accepted as a means to extend the social base of the
regime as well as a method for strengthening the toilers' father-
land against aggression. But the question immediately arose re-
garding the problem of supplying sufficient food for the indus-
trial workers. Secondly, where was the capital to come from? If
both were provided by the peasants, might not peasant resist-
ance smash any such program?

Further vexing questions presented themselves. How should
the management of industry be organized? What should be the
role of organized labor in the process of industrialization? The
whole problem of relationships with the capitalist world had

98 The Dilemma of Authority

to be taken into account. Would it be politically safe to obtain
the capital for industrialization from the capitalist states? Or
would it be better to work for a socialist revolution in these
states, after which they could come to the aid of backward
Russia? Or would some totally different policy be necessary?

During the twenties the fundamental problems facing Rus-
sia, outlined at the beginning of the preceding chapter, presented
themselves in roughly this fashion to the leaders of Russia. Three
major solutions were offered. Reduced to its barest essentials,
Trotsky's solution was to press forward on both the domestic and
the international fronts toward a socialist revolution. Bukharin,
on the other hand, was the advocate of caution and of a search
for some kind of answer within the institutional framework left
by Lenin and the NEP. Stalin, in a series of brilliant political
maneuvers, made use first of Bukharin's general approach, and in
the process was able to discredit and eliminate Trotsky as a politi-
cal opponent. Then, since Bukharin's solution appeared to be lead-
ing into a blind alley, he took over many, but not all, of the
essential features of Trotsky's program and eliminated Bukharin
from power. Finally, in the course of adopting Trotsky's pro-
gram, Stalin developed certain distinctive features of his own.

The Trotskyite solution

A year after Lenin's death Trotsky pointed out what many
of the responsible Communist leaders must have realized already
—that the Russians had been living upon the accumulated con-
struction or real capital of previous times, and that the prob-
lem of creating new factories would soon be acute.1 Further-
more, he pointed out, external pressures from the capitalist
world prevented the Soviet Union from making its own choice
concerning the tempo of industrialization.2 Commenting on the
backwardness of Soviet economy he observed, "A lion is stronger
than a dog, but an old dog is stronger than a lion cub." Victory
in history, he asserted, goes to those societies that give human
society the highest economic level.8

Part of the answer to this problem Trotsky recognized as lying
in widespread improvements in the internal organization of in-

Alternative Solutions 99

dustry. He demanded a better managerial group that would pay
more attention to details,4 a demand that has been raised in
nearly similar language down to the present day. In statements
that foreshadowed Stalin's later slogan, "Cadres decide every-
thing," Trotsky laid strong emphasis on the need for improved
selection of managerial personnel by the Party.5 Likewise he
sensed, even if vaguely, some inadequacies in the system of in-
centives that were intended to spur the workers to produce for
the toilers' state. It is a shame, he wrote in 1925, to hear Soviet
managers and even engineers complain that the specialization
of production crushes the spirit of the worker. The opinion that
factory work was monotonous and boring he dismissed as reaction-
ary and Utopian. Instead, he declared, the task of turning indus-
try into an automatic mechanism was in fact a grandiose and
inspiring one.6 Evidently Trotsky was feeling his way toward a
program for the systematic overhauling of status relationships
in industry in the interests of productivity. The task of carry-
ing this out, however, was destined to fall into other hands.

Economic planning had long been part of the Marxist answer
to the asserted disorganization of capitalism, and was also brought
forth by Trotsky as a solution to the chaotic condition of Russian
industry in the twenties. Two points are worth noting about Trot-
sky's conception of planning. One is that he did not envisage
a single plan for the entire country. Rather, he appears to have
had in mind the elimination of the confused situation whereby
government-controlled industries were forced to sell at fixed
prices, while the state made its purchases in an open and un-
controlled market.7 In this respect he was much less bold than
later Soviet planners. But in his attitude toward planning as
a technique of deliberately controlled social change, he was in
accord with later events. Socialist planners, he said, should not
have the attitude toward their figures that an astronomer has
toward the movement of the stars, which he can predict but
cannot control. Socialist plans he professed to regard not as
products of passive prediction, but as tools for action.8

It is typical of Trotsky's approach that he saw the answer to
the peasant question in the field of industry. Industry, he argued,

100 The Dilemma of Authority

represented the key point in peasant-worker relations, and the
area toward which energy should be directed. In 1925 he ob-
served that the peasant put on the market less than one third
of his total production. To improve the exchange of manufactured
articles for food, industry would have to put on the market not
only cheaper consumers' goods, but also better agricultural ma-
chines, "requiring collective forms of cultivation." 9 In this phrase
by Trotsky there occurs one of the first hints of the eventual re-
organization of agriculture on a collectivized basis.

A group of economists, associated with Trotsky, had begun
the year before to ask the question of how the capital might be
raised to increase the output of industry. They reasoned that
there were only three possible sources for the accumulation of
capital: loans from abroad; profits within the state-controlled
industry itself (more accurately, the difference between the value
of its production and what it paid out in wages and salaries) ; and
finally, what could be obtained from "exploitation" of small-scale
private undertakings— in effect, the peasants— by extracting from
them a greater sum of values than was given to them in the form
of industrial products. This doctrine found its clearest expres-
sion in the writings of E. Preobrazhensky, a former coauthor with
Bukharin of the ABC of Communism and later one of the impor-
tant figures in the Trotskyite opposition.10 Such views became the
basis of the accusation that Trotsky intended to exploit the peas-
antry. However, as shall be seen, Trotsky himself laid greater
emphasis on other techniques for obtaining capital, which were,
perhaps, even less practicable than those suggested by his asso-
ciates.

If we distinguish Trotsky's own views on the peasantry from
those of his associates during 1924 and 1925, there does not ap-
pear to be any large difference between his position and that
which Lenin had reached in his 1923 paper, "On Cooperation,"
the guiding line of official policy in the early stages of the NEP.
Like Lenin, Trotsky asserted that the socialist reconstruction of
agriculture should be carried out through the cooperative move-
ment. In turn, the cooperatives should be based upon a mecha-
nized agriculture,11

Alternative Solutions 101

At a later date Trotsky and other leaders of the Left Opposition
criticized violently the official policy of going easy on the peas-
ants, accusing Stalin and Bukharin of favoring the rich peasants
at the expense of the poor and middle peasantry.12 By 1927, when
he had almost completely lost power, Trotsky arrived at the con-
clusion that the collectivization of agriculture was the only way
out of the dilemma. In what purports to be a draft of a program
for the Fifteenth Party Congress, Trotsky declared: "The growth
of private proprietorship in the country must be offset by a more
rapid development of collective farming. It is necessary system-
atically and from year to year to subsidize the efforts of the
poor peasants to organize in collectives." 1S At the same time Trot-
sky repeated his arguments concerning the necessity for a tech-
nical revolution in agriculture, without which collectivization
was impossible. But by this time Stalin had already stolen his
fire. In his report to the Fifteenth Congress, Stalin too proclaimed
that the only way out was the collectivization of agriculture on
the basis of a higher level of technique.14

Trotsky's attitude toward the system of political authority in
the Soviet Union changed sharply as his own position in that
system deteriorated. Immediately after the Civil War, it will be
recalled, he had been the advocate of authoritarian measures by
the Party to "shake up" the trade unions and solve the problems
posed by the system of War Communism. Two years later, when
his influence had been sharply reduced, he became much more
critical of the Party leadership. Then, in a series of articles pub-
lished during December 1923 in Pravda, he spoke openly about
the possibility of degeneration among the Bolshevik old guard
and the loss of their revolutionary fire. In these articles he also
defended the individual Party member's right to think matters out
for himself and to battle for his own interpretations against those
put forth by the Party leaders.15 The next year he published a
thinly disguised attack on the Party leaders, the so-called Tri-
umvirate of Stalin, Kamenev, and Zinoviev, in the form of a
historical study, the Lessons of October.™ The immediate occa-
sion of the attack was the defeat of the German revolution of
1923, about which more will be said later. The rather obvious

102 The Dilemma of Authority

implication of Lessons of October was that revolutionary upris-
ings would fail if they lacked revolutionary leadership. From then
on Trotsky attacked with increasing savageness the "bureaucratic
degeneration" of the Party and the concentration of authority in
its upper echelons.

As his position continued to weaken in the internecine struggle
with Stalin and Bukharin, it appeared more and more to Trotsky
and his followers that the only hope for Russia's escape from this
"bureaucratic degeneration" lay in successful revolutions abroad.
By bringing the technical resources of the West into the socialist
orbit, or even by weakening imperialist pressure through success-
ful revolutions in the East, the need for a quasi-military atmos-
phere at home would diminish. The Soviets, he argued, could not
build up their economy on the basis of their own resources alone.17
Indeed, as he maintained in Permanent Revolution, it is impos-
sible for a socialist revolution to succeed within the national
boundaries of a single country.18 Thus, the Left Opposition ham-
mered away at the theme that the building of socialism in the
Soviet Union could only succeed "in immediate connection with
the revolution of the European proletariat, and in the struggle
of the East against the imperialist yoke." 19 For Trotsky and his
followers the choice became increasingly clear-cut: either inter-
national revolution or the abandonment of the socialist experi-
ment in Russia. Following the failure of the first, and his own
fall from power, he devoted most of his energy to proving the
truth of the second.20 The core of Stalin's approach was to refuse
to accept the dilemma as posed in Trotsky's terms, or, for that
matter, in those of Bukharin.

Bukhara's solution

Bukharin's position in the Party, even at the height of his
power, was a somewhat curious one. Unlike Trotsky, Stalin, or
Lenin, he never held a position of direct and first-rate admin-
istrative responsibility. His counsels in the Politburo were for
a time highly influential, though they were not connected with
specific organizational tasks. His positions, as editor of Pravda
and as a high officer of the Communist International, involved
the manipulation of symbols rather than of men. Even though

Alternative Solutions 103

he was acknowledged in Lenin's testament as "the most valu-
able and biggest theoretician in the Party/'21 his theories over
time represent perhaps even less of a consistent whole than do
those of Lenin, Trotsky, and Stalin. Between 1918 and 1923 he
made a complete traverse from the extreme left to the extreme
right of the Communist political spectrum. However, after the
completion of this traverse, his opinions represented for many
years a fairly consistent view of the world.

In his writings from about 1925 onward, Bukharin attempted
to demonstrate that the NEP was not really a retreat, which
Lenin had freely admitted, but actually a new road on the way
to the original goal. In so doing he developed a series of inter-
pretations and justifications that strongly resembled the gradual-
ist views of Western Social Democracy, whose vehement critic
he had once been and in fact continued to be, at least in his
published statements, despite the rapprochement of views.

Under Bukharin's reinterpretation the Marxist doctrine of the
class struggle became softened into a peaceful contest among
opposing interest groups in the relatively tranquil arena of the
market place. Eventually under NEP conditions, he wrote, big
capital in industry would beat out little capital. Since big capital
was in the hands of the proletariat, his argument continued, so-
cialism would be the ultimate victor.22 In another passage of the
same reinterpretation he asserted: "The center of gravity shifts
more and more from the work of immediate and mechanical re-
pression of the exploiters ... to the economic reorganization
of society— to peaceful organizational work, economic competi-
tion with private firms, [and] the work of constructing socialist
economic forms ( government, cooperatives, etc. ) " 2S

His views and proposed solutions of the peasant question were
in line with this gradualist interpretation. In general, his opinion
was that the Communists ought to give the peasants what they
wanted, for the time being at least, in order to attract them to
the proletarian banner.24 On one occasion, the cause of quite an
uproar in the Party, in a newspaper article he put forth for the
peasants the slogan, "Enrich yourselves." Six months later Bukha-
rin was forced by the Politburo to retract this slogan.28

Bukharin's slip of the pen was in line with his negative atti-

104 The Dilemma of Authority

tude toward the collective farms. Following Lenin, he argued
that the chief way to incorporate the peasant into a socialist
society was through the cooperative movement. "The peasant
will grow into the general socialist system through the coopera-
tives/' he declared in the spring of 1925.26 Collective farms were
"not the main road by which the peasant will come to socialism,"
but merely a subsidiary route.27 In 1925 the basis of his argument
was that the Soviet government did not yet have at its disposal
sufficient material means to make the collective farms attractive
enough for the peasants to overcome their traditional hostility to
such new arrangements. At the same time the government could
point out concrete advantages for the individual peasant in the
cooperative movement.28 In this way Bukharin returned to the
conception that the class struggle in the countryside was chiefly
an economic struggle. Against the shops of the village traders
the government should not use force, but instead rely on the
material advantages of the cooperatives. And against the village
usurers the government and the Party should bring up its bat-
tery of credit unions.29

In 1927 and 1928, when the problem of collectivization had
become really acute, the major discussions of the question were
carried on behind closed doors. It is therefore difficult to recon-
struct Bukharin's opinions and those of the Right Opposition in
general. However, it is reasonably clear that Bukharin feared a
renewal of the Civil War if Stalin persisted in his newly adopted
policy of exploiting the peasantry. In the middle of 1928 he
finally went so far that he broke with Stalin over this issue (though
not in public) and made tentative maneuvers toward a political
bloc with former associates of Trotsky, as well as certain other
leaders, in the hopes of ousting Stalin from control.30

Bukharin's answer to the problem of industrialization was also
consistent with his generally conservative approach. Originally,
he believed that heavy industry in socialist hands could compete
successfully with the nonsocialist sector of industry and gradu-
ally drive the latter to the wall. Because of this viewpoint he was
a useful ally for Stalin against Trotsky.81

After Trotsky's defeat, Stalin began in 1927 and 1928 to adopt

Alternative Solutions 105

some of the policies advocated by his defeated opponent. Bukha-
rin continued to oppose these policies and managed to get some
of his views before the Soviet public, at least in a disguised form.
In a Pravda article32 that posed as a critical evaluation of the
Left Opposition, but was actually directed against Stalin, he
pointed out how agricultural shortages might endanger and even
wreck the whole process of industrialization. For publishing this
article he was later reprimanded by the Party Central Com-
mittee.83 In another article some months later, ostensibly a critique
of capitalism, but which could easily be taken as a criticism of
the Five Year Plan, he pointed to the dangers of an expanded
bureaucracy inherent in certain types of industrialization. Organ-
izational techniques, which should be means to achieve economic
ends, tend to become, as he pointed out, ends in themselves. The
result, he contended, was paper pushing, material losses, and the
general routinization of society.34

On still another occasion he used the not too subtle device of
quoting extensively from one of his earlier speeches, a major
programmatic announcement that was supposedly above suspi-
cion, delivered some seven years before at the Fourth Congress
of the Communist International, defending the Bolshevik adop-
tion of the NEP. By this device he was able to repeat his opinion
that the major problem of any country in which the proletariat
held power was to distinguish between the forms of production
that file proletariat could organize, and those which, in the be-
ginning stages, it could not control. If the proletariat tried to
take over too much, or injured the small producer and the small
peasant, production declined. Furthermore, an enormous and eco-
nomically unproductive bureaucratic apparatus was required to
carry out the economic functions of the small producer and the
small peasant if the latter groups were destroyed. Instead of in-
creasing production by these measures, the exact opposite would
take place.85 It is fairly safe to assume that arguments along these
lines were also advanced by Bukharin and his associates in the
stormy and secret sessions of the Politburo.

In his opposition to the ambitious program of industrialization,
Bukharin was joined by Rykov, a member of the Politburo from

106 The Dilemma of Authority

1919 onward, and long prominent in the role of an economic ad-
ministrator, and also by Tomsky, president from 1917 to 1929
of the All-Union Council of Trade Unions. Rykov's opposition
appears to have been based largely on the ground that Stalin's
industrialization program was simply not economically fea-
sible.36 The union leader Tomsky, however, joined on grounds
that require further clarification.

During the NEP the unions gained a considerable degree of
independence, They represented the interests of the workers in
opposition to the claims of the government, as well as against
other interest groups in Russian society of the early twenties.
To Stalin it was clear that the program of industrialization would
require heavy sacrifices from the workers, at least in the begin-
ning stages. To ensure that the workers would make these sacri-
fices, he apparently believed that it was necessary to reduce the
independence of the unions and subordinate them to the Com-
munist Party. On April 23, 1929, the Party Central Committee
issued a warning to this effect. It announced that the unions
were called upon to play a decisive role in the construction of
socialist industry, the increase of the productivity of labor, and
the improvement of labor discipline, and that they must there-
fore get rid of all the remnants of a narrow trade-unionist men-
tality.87

One of Stalin's moves in extending control over the unions
was to put his close follower, Lazar Kaganovich, on the presidium
of the All-Union Council of Trade Unions. To this and other ac-
tions Tomsky, together with Bukharin and Rykov, reacted strongly
in various statements to the Politburo. They were, however, rap-
idly defeated. On the same occasion the Central Committee de-
clared: "On the question of the trade unions Comrades Bukha-
rin, Rykov, and Tomsky proceed in a most dangerous fashion
by setting the trade unions against the Party, and in fact take a
course of weakening Party control over the trade union move-
ment, cover up the weaknesses of trade union work, and con-
ceal trade-unionist tendencies and manifestations of bureaucratic
ossifications in part of the trade union apparatus, representing
the Party's struggle with these weaknesses as a Trotskyite *shak-

Alternative Solutions 107

ing up' of the unions." 3S For these and other reasons Bukharin
and Tomsky were deprived of their posts in the Comintern,
Pravda (of which Bukharin was the editor), and the unions,
and were ejected from the Politburo as violators of Party disci-
pline.39 Rykov was spared for the time being.

In foreign affairs Bukharin was identified with the conserva-
tive wing of the Party, which sought to obtain the support of
non-Communist groups abroad to serve Soviet aims. The strong-
est application of this policy took place in China in the years
1926 and 1927. Bukharin was the chief public spokesman for the
policy of cooperation with Chiang Kai-shek. At that time the lat-
ter had worked closely for a considerable period of time with the
Chinese Communists and the Russian advisers sent to China by
the Soviet government. Severe conflicts between Bukharin and
Trotsky took place over this policy. Trotsky wanted to speed up
the revolutionary processes and bring about an open break with
non-Communist elements while the Communists had some possi-
bilities of success. Bukharin argued that cooperation was neces-
sary because of the all-important role of the peasants in Chinese
society, which consequently was not yet ready for a proletarian
revolution.40 For reasons that will be discussed more fully in an-
other chapter, the Chinese adventure ended in disaster for the
Communists and constituted a major debacle in Soviet foreign
relations. Similar attempts to win the support of the British trade
unions for Soviet ends and efforts to put into effect a united front
with the German Social Democrats had turned out equally unsuc-
cessfully.

On this account the policy of the Communist International was
reversed at the Sixth World Congress of 1928. The Right deviation
was proclaimed the chief danger of the day. Social Democrats and
other sectors of the non-Communist Left were denounced as the
"working class allies of the bourgeoisie" or branded as "social
fascists" in what was essentially a return to Lenin's opinions of
the non-Bolshevik left.41 In the vivid language of Communist
polemics it was asserted that "in order to grasp the bourgeoisie
by the throat, it is necessary to step across the corpse of social
democracy/' **

108 The Dilemma of Authority

Although Bukharin was most prominently identified with the
earlier policy, he was chosen to be the major spokesman for the
new at the meeting of the Comintern Congress. At one point he
even went so far as to assert in a public address that the right-
wing danger was the major one in the Comintern.43 In his some-
what anomalous position he appears to have followed one point
of view in his public statements and another while attacking
Stalin in the relative privacy of the Politburo sessions; and at
the same time he tried to outmaneuver Stalin at the Congress.
The difficulties and disagreements did not become known to
the Party rank and file until considerably later.44 Their appear-
ance was a clear indication that Stalin had decided to embark
on a course diametrically opposed to all that Bukharin stood for
in the twenties.

Stalin's solution

Trotsky had demanded an acceleration of the revolution as an
answer to the problems posed by the NEP, but never faced the
problem of full political responsibility after Lenin's departure
from the helm. Bukharin had sought a retention of the status quo
and its gradual modification through economic forces he asserted
were inherent in the situation. His policies faced defeat abroad
and appeared to be strengthening the enemies of the regime at
home. Could Stalin resolve the tensions at home and abroad gen-
erated by Lenin's initial retreat?

Stalin's answer, developed piecemeal in intense factional strug-
gles over the years, was composed of five elements: (1) rapid
industrialization; (2) planning; (3) collectivization in agricul-
ture; (4) socialism in one country; and (5) a more intransigent
and leftist policy for the Communist International. A brief ex-
amination of the development of these policies may throw light
on one important question: to what extent was ideology used as
a mere screen by Stalin in order to achieve power? Or, to put
the question in another fashion, did doctrinal considerations
play any role in the decisions reached by Stalin during these
crucial and formative years of the present regime, or were they
mere camouflages to be changed at will in what was basically a
struggle for personal power?

Alternative Solutions 109

At the outset it is worth noting that Stalin did not belong, at
least as an insider, to the circle of Westernized intellectuals
that constituted the core of the Bolshevik movement before the
Revolution. He was an organization man rather than a weaver
of theories. Until 1924 Stalin made no claims to be considered
an important Party theorist. While his role in Party councils up
to this time has been systematically underrated by Trotsky and
his followers, his own writings show that, with the exception of
the problem of national minorities, he concentrated for the most
part on practical administrative matters. Unlike Lenin, Trotsky,
and Bukharin, he did not attempt before 1924 to develop a world
view into which the events of the day would fit and from which
tactics for future action would flow with apparently inexorable
logic.

Stalin's first significant statements on the question of indus-
trialization were made at the Fourteenth Party Congress in De-
cember 1925, a meeting that marked a crucial defeat for the Left
Opposition. Declaring that it was impossible to build socialism
"with white gloves," Stalin in a major report recommended that
Russia should be transformed from an agrarian into an industrial
country in a way that would guarantee the independence of the
Soviet economy under the conditions of capitalist encirclement.
After fierce and bitter debates over Stalin's general policy and
his qualifications for leadership, the Congress adopted his pro-
gram.45

Although Stalin had by this time developed a clear concep-
tion of his goal, he displayed very little grasp of what the goal
implied concerning measures necessary to pursue it. He wanted
a strong, independent, industrialized, and socialist Russia. Such
an objective implied a heavy program of capital investment. But
in the same speech in which he put forth this goal, he anticipated
that the rate of industrial progress would decline in the near
future. To "cross the threshold" from a policy of restoration to a
policy of new construction would be extremely difficult because
of the shortage of capital.46 Just when Stalin reversed himself
and became a proponent of heavy capital investment is not alto-
gether clear, although it is well known that this question was a
major issue with the Right Opposition in 1928. In a speech of

110 The Dilemma of Authority

November 19, 1928, he sarcastically attacked the People's Com-
missariat of Finance for setting its sights too low in drawing up
figures for the capital construction of industry.47 After further
public and secret discussions, the Party adopted for the First
Five Year Plan a maximum variant among the proposals for
capital investment in industry. The final figure agreed upon en-
visaged a capital investment in industry of 15.6 billion rubles. This
amount is estimated to be nearly five times the prerevolutionary
value of the basic capital in Russian industry.48

Although discussions about some form of collective enterprise
for agriculture had taken place in Russian Marxist circles ever
since Kautsky's observations on socialist latifundia, in Stalin's pub-
lic statements references to collectivization appear suddenly and
for the first time in his report to the Fifteenth Party Congress in
December 1927. As late as October 1927 he gave no clue that he
might adopt the policy of collectivization and forced repression of
the kulaks. Instead, in polemics with the Left Opposition, he con-
tinued to defend the policy of concessions to the peasantry.49 But
by December of the same year he had begun to veer away from
the status quo policies of Bukharin and to turn toward the policies
of the defeated Left Opposition.

In his report to the Fifteenth Party Congress, Stalin pointed
out that the increase in the productivity of agriculture lagged far
behind the corresponding increase in industry. This lag threatened
to upset the balance between industry and agriculture. It could
therefore upset the whole program of economic self-sufficiency
which had been decided upon at the Fourteenth Congress in
1925. The reasons for this lag, he said, lay in the fact that agri-
culture was conducted in an unplanned manner by scattered
owners of small plots. Industry, on the other hand, was operated
in large units, subject to planned socialist control.50 On the same
occasion, the well-known agricultural economist, Yakovlev, pro-
duced numerous figures purporting to show that large-scale
farmers were much more productive than small ones.51 Support-
ing the same argument, Molotov pointed out that the curbing of
the capitalist elements in the countryside was merely a policy of
palliatives, no matter how well it was done.82 From this general

Alternative Solutions 111

interpretation of the situation, Stalin drew the following conclu-
sion: "The way out is in the transition from small-scale peasant
enterprises to large-scale, unified enterprises on the basis of a
socialized working of the land, in the transition to collectivized
working of the land on the basis of a new and higher technique." 5S

Soon afterward, steps were taken to promote the movement of
the peasants into the kolkhozy, though reliance on voluntary
methods continued for a while, A little more than two years were
to elapse, during which the First Five Year Plan was announced,
before the Party embarked on its policy of the 'liquidation of the
kulaks as a class" and widespread forced collectivization.54

The collectivization of agriculture served the purpose of en-
suring a more reliable food supply for the town workers and a
way of extracting capital for tie industrialization program that
resembles Preobrazhensky's proposals to exploit the peasantry,
The late date and the suddenness with which Stalin reached this
answer again points to his difficulties in deciding how to imple-
ment a policy once the goal had been set.

Although the idea of an independent socialist state, or social-
ism in one country, may be found occasionally in quite early
Marxist writers, it is usually regarded as Stalin's most distinctive
contribution to contemporary Marxism.55 Combined with the
conception that such a state should be the focal point for socialist,
or better communist, movements elsewhere, which should derive
strength from this state and contribute support to it, the idea of
a single socialist state constitutes one of the more continuous
and permanent features of Stalin's thinking. As early as 1920 he
was willing to declare that the new Soviet Republic could stand
on its own feet without the aid of revolutions in foreign coun-
tries.56 However, he did not deny then or later that such revolu-
tions might be of great service to the Soviet Republic.

Again in April 1924, in his first major theoretical speech, he
pointed out that older Marxist opinions concerning the impossi-
bility of a successful proletarian revolution in a single country
did not correspond with the facts of history.57 At that moment he
was apparently unwilling to carry the break with tradition much
further. He argued, as did Trotsky, that without assistance from

112 The Dilemma of Authority

proletarian revolutions abroad it was impossible to proceed from
the revolution itself to the construction of a socialist society.58

In December 1924, for reasons that are not altogether clear
but may have been derived from a desire to distinguish his posi-
tion from Trotsky's, he modified this opinion and revised all
subsequent editions of his April speech. In the new version he
asserted that it was indeed possible for a single country to carry
out a revolution and to proceed to the building of socialism un-
aided by revolutions abroad. But, he continued, this country
could not consider itself secure, that is, free from the danger of
destruction by hostile capitalist powers, until successful revolu-
tions had taken place in other countries.59

In one very important sense Stalin's conception was still simi-
lar to Trotsky's. Both emphasized, overtly at least, that the Novem-
ber Revolution could not be secure until it was universal. In other
words, as others have pointed out, Stalin's difference with Trotsky
on this as well as other points concerned timing and immediate
tactics, rather than long-range objectives. Yet the choice of tactics
has important effects upon the verbal expression of political goals,
and still greater consequences for the possibilities of achieving
them.

Stalin's tactical conception of revolutionary strategy during
the period of his struggle with Trotsky was a variety of the
united front. The essence of this policy was the utilization of
other leftist and non-Communist groups for the promotion of
Soviet influence abroad. Expressions of this policy in England
via the Anglo-Russian Trade Union Committee, an unsuccessful
attempt to capitalize on the sympathy of the British trade unions
for the Soviets, and in the abortive German and Chinese revo-
lutions led to failure. In response to these failures Stalin moved
toward the policies of his Left opponents.

The shift became apparent in 1928, when the Communist
International took a turn to the left, at least on the verbal level.
The thesis was put forth that the temporary stabilization of capi-
talism was indeed temporary and scarcely stable. Communist
Parties abroad were ordered to close their ranks, get rid of waver-
ing elements, including adherents of both Left and Bight Oppo-

Alternative Solutions 113

sitions, shun the reformist socialists, and defend die USSR against
imperialist attack while awaiting an inevitable uprising. One con-
sequence of the new policy was increased antagonism between
the German Communists and Social Democrats, which in turn
facilitated Hitler's rise to power.

However, the Soviet Union under Stalin's leadership did not
by any means follow a consistently doctrinaire policy. The Com-
intern provided only one of several techniques available for
dealing with other states. In 1927 the Soviet Union embarked
on the so-called Litvinov period in foreign policy, conducted
under the doctrinal flag of the "peaceful co-existence of two
social systems at a given historical epoch." The details of this
policy and the Soviet search for security through the channels
of orthodox diplomacy will be considered in another chapter.
Here it is sufficient to point out that the simultaneous use of
orthodox diplomacy and the Comintern to promote the strength
and security of the new socialist state reveals once more the
duality and even inconsistency of Stalin's techniques in pursuit
of goals that were stated with considerable clarity.

The role of ideology in factional struggles

Viewing the record of Stalin's tactics during the period of
storm and stress in the Party, one is likely to be struck with his
intuitive flair for finding a workable political formula. Like Lenin
he showed himself willing to reverse himself or his predecessors
on various doctrinal points for the purpose of gaining or con-
solidating power. It is a quality that Stalin's enemies within the
Party have condemned in him, while praising it in Lenin.

Nevertheless, this intuitive adaptation to the political situa-
tion of the moment shows a specific form of its own. Stalin did
not reveal any trace of the ideal, frequently expressed in Western
society, that a political leader ought to find out what the people
want and then proceed to give it to them. For both Lenin and
Stalin such an approach would be the rankest form of oppor-
tunism. While deviations from earlier programmatic goals might
result from popular pressures, the response to popular pressure
was consistently regarded as a concession and not as a virtue in

114 The Dilemma of Authority

itself. Although Stalin's solutions to the problems he faced have a
highly eclectic character, his borrowings were all drafts upon the
treasury of Marxist intellectual tradition. The same might be said
for the solutions offered by the competing opposition groups.
They were variants upon a single theme, or deductions from the
same body of unstated premises. It is indeed difficult to see how
men immersed for years in a specific intellectual tradition could
have freed themselves from it completely even if they wished,
especially when competing intellectual traditions were largely
excluded or explained away in terms of the dominant set of
ideas. Even in the case of Stalin there is sufficient internal con-
sistency and continuity in his objectives, if not in his techniques
for reaching them, and enough agreement between his professed
goals and his major policies from the early twenties onward, to
reject the conclusion that he had no political principles.

At the same time one must reject with equal force the over-
simplified interpretation which sees in Stalin's partial return to
earlier Marxist principles on this and other occasions a simple case
of strategy and tactics. According to this interpretation, various
Communist deviations from earlier principles, such as the peace
of Brest-Litovsk and the NEP, were merely tactical retreats, while
the general strategy remained unaltered. By this line of reasoning
Stalin's final program emerges merely as the "real" intentions of
the Communist Party, which they had never really abandoned
while waiting for the opportunity to put them into effect. Such
an interpretation fails to take account of the complicated and
varying interrelationship between men's ideas and the political
forces in the world around them. It overlooks the trial-and-error
process through which the Bolshevik leaders tried to find solu-
tions to the insistent problems they faced. It ignores the marked
differences between prerevolutionary intentions and the doc-
trines that developed under the impact of political responsibility.
Finally, it exaggerates out of all proportion the role of ideology
in determining political conduct.

Perhaps a more useful analysis would consider both doctrinal
goals and the opportunistic adaptation to circumstance as a com-
bination of factors, both sets of which were usually present, in

Alternative Solutions 115

varying degrees, when a decision on any crucial policy was
reached. Ideological factors appear, inasmuch as all the con-
testants for power in the Party were at least verbally agreed
(and, with the uncertain exception of the Right Opposition, more
than verbally agreed) upon the objectives to be attained. These
objectives included the transfer of the means of production to
the community as a whole, the industrialization of Russia, and
the utilization of non-Russian Communist parties for the defense
and aggrandizement of the power of the toilers' homeland. Dis-
agreements occurred on matters of timing and techniques, and
also over some of the details of social organization in the future
system of society.

In general, the role of the Marxist-Leninist tradition appears
to have been to provide the major questions to be asked about
the political environment, as well as a few of the answers. These
questions included: (1) Who holds power? (2) How do eco-
nomic and other developments affect the distribution of power?
(3) How may these forces be controlled to favor the Commu-
nists? The victorious answers included rapid industrialization,
the transfer of the means of production to the state, and the col-
lectivization of agriculture. A similar analysis was applied to the
situation in foreign countries, with the important distinction that
the Russian leaders knew they exercised effective control over
only one factor in the situation: the tactics of the Communist
Parties together with the official attitude of the USSR.

A mixture of ideological and nonideological factors appears in
what may be termed the necessity for an authoritarian solution
of the tensions in Russian society generated by the NEP. The
need for an authoritarian solution came from the hostility to the
Bolshevik regime of a large portion of the population, that is,
nearly all of the peasantry as well as those who made their living
in the cities from the nonsocialist sectors of the economy. In
addition, the alleged and real hostility of the capitalist world was
an important factor in the adoption of an authoritarian solution.
This internal and external hostility was in turn based to a con-
siderable extent on the fact that the Bolsheviks were the carriers
of a specific ideological tradition.

116 The Dilemma of Authority

The Communist leaders had stated on a number of occasions
that the respite offered their enemies in Russia and in the capi-
talist world at large was only a temporary one. Despite occasional
flurries of hope that the Communists might be undergoing a
change of heart, distrust and hostility remained strong, both
within and without Russia.

If one concludes that there was a very limited possibility that
some ideological acceptance of the NEP conditions could take
root in the Communist elite, and that Stalin's solution presented
approximately the only way out through which the Party could
retain its power, the grounds for this conclusion are found largely
in the domestic and foreign opposition to the Bolshevik leaders.
These antagonisms were in turn based very largely upon matters
of ideology.

If, on the other hand, one concludes that a genuine Thermidor
situation existed, and that the Communists could have retained
power by adopting and considerably extending the program of
the Right Wing Opposition, it is then all the more necessary to
fall back upon Marxist ideology as a significant factor in the
adoption of Stalin's program. Thus the degree of significance
attached to ideological considerations depends upon certain other
interpretations and assumptions about the nature of Russian so-
ciety at this crucial period in its history. However, it does not
seem possible to discover any tenable interpretation that will
eliminate this factor altogether, or even relegate it to secondary
importance. Had the rulers of Russia been of another political
persuasion, this hostility might not have developed, and there
then would have been no compulsion, ideological or otherwise,
to reshape Russian society.

6

Political Dynamics: Who Shall
Command?

General factors

On the -first anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution Lenin pro-
claimed that the organized workers had created a Soviet govern-
ment without bureaucrats, without a standing army, and with-
out privileges.1 To many members of his audience the claim
must have had a strange ring. Already the march of events had
compelled the Bolsheviks to make use of privileges, bureaucrats,
and standing armies; to develop in practice, if not in theory, a
system of status, authority, and organized social inequality. It
will be the task in the next few chapters to trace the develop-
ment of this system of authority and the associated system of
ideas.

Among the more important factors that determined this de-
velopment of ideas and institutions was the chronic crisis situa-
tion in which Russian society found itself from 1917 onward.
Following the devastation of War Communism there came the
abrupt about-face of the NEP. Despite the economic progress
made during the NEP, these years were characterized by several
severe crises of an economic nature, as well as by the internecine
struggle in the Communist Party. In the thirties came the crises
of forced-draft industrialization and the campaigns for the col-
lectivization of agriculture. This state of chronic political and
economic tension favored the development of a campaign psy-
chology and the further elaboration of the authoritarian aspects
of the Marxist-Leninist tradition.

118 The Dilemma of Authority

The new system of authority and its accompanying system
of ideas developed under a set of conditions where there was
little or no common acceptance of a set of shared values, Po-
litical life became a fight to the death against internal enemies:
first those of the days of War Communism, and later the kulaks
and the nepmen. The Marxist-Leninist tradition, as it had de-
veloped under Tsarism, did not conceive of a social system com-
posed of balanced and opposing social forces— capital versus
labor, farmers versus townspeople— in which the guiding prin-
ciple should be one of live and let-live.

Under somewhat different conditions the ideas of democratic
centralism might have provided a substitute device for the recon-
ciliation of opposing social forces. At various points in the his-
tory of the Communist Party between 1917 and 1930 this demo-
cratic tradition displayed no little vitality. One indication of this
vitality was the series of attempts to revive democratic proce-
dures, when popular enthusiasm flagged because of the concen-
tration of power and responsibility in fewer and fewer hands.
Even though the democratic aspects of the Marxist-Leninist tra-
dition were retained in this period, they also underwent an adap-
tive transformation to fit them to the emerging authoritarian
structure. It was discovered that democratic ideas and practices
could, with but little manipulation, be utilized by those in power
to deflect the hostility of large sections of the population away
from themselves and against their opponents. The stream of self-
criticism could be turned against minor officials who violated
the general line of the Party. Finally, these democratic aspects
of the earlier tradition were made to serve not only as a basis for
the claims of mass support, but also as a stimulus for efforts to
achieve this support.

The elimination of political competitors

One of the first steps in the development of a new system of
authority was the elimination of organized political competition.
During this stage, which lasted more than four years, the Com-
munist leaders did not put into effect any long-range and de-
tailed program of destroying their enemies in a Machiavellian

Political Dynamics 119

fashion, one by one. In fact, the record of the events suggests
that unforeseen incidents together with the mutual intransigence
of the Bolsheviks and their competitors led to the collapse of a
collaboration that was commenced in good faith. Nevertheless,
in their doctrinal writings, especially in comments on the dicta-
torship of the proletariat, the Communists declared openly that
they would not tolerate any real threat to their power, whether
from their avowed enemies among the bourgeoisie, or from their
competitors among the leftist parties.

On November 27, 1918, Lenin gave clear expression to the
conception of the dictatorship of the proletariat. He said that the
proletariat must rule over all other classes. Such classes would
remain until the exploiters— big bourgeoisie and the landlords-
had been destroyed. At the same time the proletariat must win
the allegiance of the petty proprietors (chiefly the peasantry).
Thus the proletariat should say to the petty bourgeoisie and the
Mensheviks, "We will be glad to legalize you— but we will keep
power." 2 We should act toward the petty bourgeois, he contin-
ued, as "towards a good neighbor who is under the strict con-
trol of the governing power." 8 The kulak or wealthy peasant, on
the other hand, was to be repressed "physically, when he tries
to creep into the soviet." 4

One of the first and most important incidents which put Bol-
shevik political doctrines to a test was the dissolution of the Con-
stituent Assembly in January 1918. In the dispersion of this body,
which was to have decided the political forms of the post-revo-
lutionary Russian state, the Communists were apparently moti-
vated almost entirely by the desire to retain power— if necessary
in the face of popular opposition. During these critical weeks
one may perceive in Bolshevik statements and actions the influ-
ence of latent hostility to bourgeois "formal democracy/' to-
gether with strong traces of the deliberate manipulation of
ideology for power purposes, and, finally, equally strong traces
of self-deception.

Before the seizure of power, the Bolsheviks had been among
the loudest in insisting that the Constituent Assembly be called,
probably to embarrass their political opponents, who were tern-

120 The Dilemma of Authority

porizing on this question as well as on others. Following the
November coup, Lenin was strongly in favor of postponing the
elections to the Assembly, but he did not succeed in carrying
his views. It was decided to carry through the election and per-
mit the Assembly to meet, but to dissolve it if it showed signs
of refractoriness. Evidently some of the Bolsheviks entertained
hopes that the Assembly might provide some sort of legitimiz-
ing authority for the new regime.

Others shared Lenin's suspicion. Volodarsky, leader of the
Petrograd Party organization, declared as early as November 21,
1917, "We may have to dissolve the Constituent Assembly with
bayonets." 5 On November 27, in reply to someone who said that
the work of the Constituent Assembly would depend on the
mood of the country, Lenin snapped, "Trust in the mood, but
don't forget your rifles." 6

The results of the election to the Constituent Assembly, as
Lenin himself later acknowledged, were not favorable to the
Bolsheviks. They received only 25 per cent of the votes; the
"petty-bourgeois democratic parties" (Socialist Revolutionaries,
the leading peasant party; Mensheviks; and so forth), 62 per
cent; and the Cadets and other groups (labeled by Lenin the
landlord and bourgeois parties), 13 per cent.7

Trotsky gives a vivid account of the sequel. The Bolshevik
delegates to the Assembly were carefully distributed so that they
might be an important element in the organizational machine
for the "supplementary revolution" of January fifth. As for the
peasant delegates, "Essentially these provincial burghers had
not the slightest idea what to do with themselves . . . But to
make up for that, they worked out the ritual of the first session
most meticulously. They brought along candles, in case the Bol-
sheviks were to turn out the electric lights, and a large quantity
of sandwiches, in the event they were deprived of food. Thus,
Democracy came to do battle against Dictatorship— fully armed
with sandwiches and candles. It did not even occur to the people
to defend those who considered themselves the elect of the
people." 8

In the absence of effective popular support for the Constitu-

Political Dynamics 121

ent Assembly, its dissolution took place without bloodshed and
and almost without incident. Lenin's reaction, as reported by
Trotsky, was that this action represented a "frank and complete
liquidation of formal democracy in the name of the revolutionary
dictatorship." 9 The revolutionary dictatorship was, however, not
officially considered as something imposed upon the people. In
fact, vox populi was invoked by Lenin to justify the dissolution:
"And now we have carried out the will of the people— the will
that says all power to the Soviets."10 A further reason for the
dissolution, advanced on several occasions before and after it
took place, was that it was not genuinely representative of the
people, since the major peasant party, the Socialist Revolution-
aries, had split into two wings, and therefore the people had
voted for a party that no longer existed.11 In this general fashion
the democratic aspects of Marxist-Leninist doctrine, and par-
ticularly that limited portion which placed a high evaluation on
the approval of the masses, was used by the Bolshevik leaders as
a public justification for the concentration of power in their own
hands.

In the elimination of competing political parties, which com-
menced at the same time as the dissolution 6f the Constituent
Assembly, the Bolsheviks showed no hesitation about declaring
the Cadets enemies and agents of the counterrevolution, which
had already flared up in southern Russia.12 But there are no in-
dications at the time that Lenin or his associates intended to
carry this process to its eventual and logical conclusion. For
tactical reasons it was necessary for the Bolsheviks to cooperate
with other groups, largely in order to obtain at least the passive
support of the peasantry. From the Left Socialist Revolutionaries
and their peasant supporters Lenin, by his own acknowledgment,
borrowed the first Bolshevik measures concerning land reform,
issued in the form of a decree on the day following the November
coup.18

Shortly afterward a formal agreement was reached between
the Bolsheviks and the Left Socialist Revolutionaries. On De-
cember 22, 1917, the latter entered the government, receiving
the posts of People's Commissars for Agriculture, Justice, and

122 The Dilemma of Authority

Post and Telegraph. They quit the government soon after, how-
ever, in protest against Lenin's capitulation policy at Brest-
Litovsk, but maintained a loose alliance with the Bolsheviks un-
til the summer of 1918.1*

Trotsky declares that far from spurning the cooperation of
other socialist revolutionaries, the Bolsheviks in the early days
following the November coup sought it eagerly on every occa-
sion. He claims that he and Lenin once seriously considered al-
lotting certain territories to the Anarchists to let them carry on
their experiment of a stateless social order.15 It is possible that
such a proposal was actually made in the flush of revolutionary
victory, though, as Trotsky points out, nothing ever came of it.
In general, however, it seems out of character for Lenin to
consider granting concessions to a competing political movement
for other than tactical reasons.

Mutual intransigence, the lack of common goals, and in-
experience in the compromises of democratic politics rendered the
attempts at collaboration brief and ineffective. In July 1918 cer-
tain Left Socialist Revolutionaries working in the Commissariat
of Justice assassinated the German ambassador, Count Mirbach,
and attempted an uprising against the Bolsheviks. These acts
were a protest against Lenin's conciliatory policy toward the
Germans, which found expression in the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk
and subsequent diplomatic relationships, The Central Committee
of the Left Socialist Revolutionaries immediately announced its
responsibility for the assassination. The announcement may be
taken as a major indication of the political attitude of this group,16
which was, if anything, less favorable for the development of
an ethics and pattern of political compromise than Bolshevik
political philosophy and practice. This incident in effect brought
to a close the attempts at political collaboration with other leftist
groups, although minor steps toward mutual tolerance took
place later in the year.17

The last openly organized political opposition of any con-
sequence faced by the Bolsheviks was in connection with the
Kronstadt rebellion of 1921. This rebellion was the culmination
of a series of revolts against Bolshevik measures of forced grain

Political Dynamics 123

collection from the peasantry, as well as other grievances, and
undoubtedly influenced Lenin to adopt the New Economic Pol-
icy. The program of the mutineers is significant, since it reflects
the grievances not only of the peasantry but also of the workers
who supported the Bolsheviks throughout the Civil War. Some
of the points are the following:

1. Reelection of Soviets by "secret voting" with "free prelimi-
nary agitation."

2. Freedom of speech for workers, peasants, Anarchists, and
Left Socialist Parties. (Evidently the tradition of free speech for
everyone was not current even among Lenin's leftist opponents.
But note the preceding point. )

3. Freedom of meetings, trade unions and peasant associa-
tions.

5. Liberation of the political prisoners of the Socialist
Parties.

11. The granting to the peasant of the right to do what he
saw fit with the land, without employing hired labor.

15. Free artisan production with individual labor.18

In subsequent years there were some slight indications that
the old political parties maintained an underground organiza-
tion and managed to work upon the various continuing cleavages
in Russian society. Thus, in 1922, the Communist Party declared
that the cooperatives and other organizations were used as a
basis of counterrevolution, and that the Constitutional Monarch-
ical Party (probably the Cadets) and the Socialist Revolution-
ary Party had obtained the leadership of the cooperatives.19
Again, in 1926, the Party referred to the political use made of
economic, cultural, and religious organizations against the dic-
tatorship of the proletariat, and to the "counterrevolutionary agi-
tation" in favor of special peasant parties and organizations,20
an indication that Party control had by no means become as com-
plete as was the case after about 1932. Despite such relatively
minor signs, it is safe to conclude that, after the Kronstadt rebel-
lion of 1921, the process of presenting alternative solutions to
the problems facing the country was confined to the ranks of
the Communist Party itself. In another chapter it will be pointed

124 The Dilemma of Authority

out how this process was gradually restricted to the upper rank
of the Party.

The doctrine and organization of terror

By the elimination of competing political parties and the con
sequent concentration of authority in their own hands, the Com
munists had approached their goal of the dictatorship of th(
proletariat.

A major device, though by no means the only one, througl
which the Communist Party consolidated its ruling position ir
Russia was the systematic application of terror. There were ap
parently two points of view within the Party concerning the
use of terror. By far the strongest and most important attitude
was that terror and force must be used ruthlessly on occasion foi
the ultimate benefit of the masses, even though terror could nol
in the long run be a substitute for persuasion. Mass support
could eventually be obtained only when the masses saw the eco-
nomic and other benefits of a new form of society. Thus terroi
was regarded as a temporary measure, necessary to sweep aside
the exploiting minority and the remnants of their followers aftei
the workers had seized power in the interests of the masses.

The opposite view was never clearly or openly formulated
into a complete system. Its existence must be inferred from occa-
sional actions and statements of Party officials, as well as from the
vigor with which Lenin attacked it This opposing tradition might
be described as having a tinge of Western liberal humanitarian-
ism, which regarded force, violence, and compulsion as a neces-
sary evil, but distinctly as an evil to be avoided whenever pos-
sible.

In the days immediately following the November Revolution
there was little or no need for terror. According to W. H. Cham-
berlin, Moscow was the sole place in central and northern Russia
where the Bolshevik seizure of power encountered serious, sus-
tained, and sanguinary resistance.21 At the same time, important
leaders of the Party both before and after the seizure of power
felt that Lenin was embarking on a dangerous course, dangerous
both in the sense that the coup might fail and in the sense that,

Political Dynamics 125

even if it succeeded, it could do so only by means of force and
violence.

The negotiations with other left-wing parties following the
Bolshevik coup brought to light these fears of what might perhaps
be termed the antiterrorist wing of the Party. On November 17,
1917, Kamenev, Zinoviev, and a few other Party leaders resigned
from the Central Committee on the grounds that the new govern-
ment was instituting police terrorism. It will be recalled that
Kamenev and Zinoviev had shortly before opposed the seizure
of power. One declaration (not signed by these two but by the
other leaders) went so far that it accused the Party Central Com-
mittee of having entered on the path of "maintaining a pure Bol-
shevik government by means of police terror." ffl Zinoviev was the
first of these individuals to withdraw his resignation, and later all
of them became active in posts of high responsibility within the
Party, perhaps an indication that their convictions on these mat-
ters were not overly strong.

Although the Bolshevik secret police (Cheka) was founded
on December 20, 1917, only a few weeks after the seizure of
power, the use of terror on a mass scale did not begin until the
end of August 1918. The immediate occasion was the murder
of the head of the Petrograd office of the Cheka, and the at-
tempted assassination of Lenin by a former Anarchist turned
Socialist Revolutionary. In reprisal for the murder of the head of
the Petrograd Cheka, five hundred persons were shot.28 During
the Civil War terror was widely used by both the Reds and the
Whites. Yet in 1919 opposition to the indiscriminate use of terror
and repression was again expressed at the Congress of the Com-
munist Party. In the program adopted at this Congress the Party
declared that the deprivation of political rights or any other limi-
tation on freedom should be regarded as "exclusively temporary
measures" necessary in the struggle with the exploiters.24 This
statement was directly in line with earlier views concerning the
temporary nature of terror. In his report to the Seventh Congress
of Soviets during the same year, Lenin similarly blamed the
terror on the Entente, saying in effect that the Red terror was a
necessary reply to the White terror, and that success over the

126 The Dilemma of Authority

Whites would mean that this method of persuasion could be
abandoned.25

Events turned out otherwise, The pressure of both internal and
external opposition to the regime provided the grounds for the
continuing expansion of the terrorist bureaucracy. Chamberlin
estimates, on the basis of a moderate amount of data, that the
Cheka put to death about fifty thousand persons during the course
of the Civil War.26 Beginning only with Dzerzhinsky and a hand-
ful of assistants, the Cheka expanded rapidly to a total of 31,000
employees before 192L2T

Simon Liberman, one of the non-Party specialists who had
close contacts with Lenin in the post-revolutionary period, re-
ports that the Cheka in the search for sabotage expanded its ac-
tivities rather rapidly into economic matters. This expansion was
resented by other sectors of the bureaucracy. On some occasions
important officials, learning of the arrest of certain of their sub-
ordinates, telephoned Dzerzhinsky, the head of the Cheka, de-
manding their immediate release.28

In 1921 Lenin attempted to use his own prestige to check the
expansion of the secret police. At the Ninth Congress of Soviets
he described the Cheka as an instance in which "our weaknesses
are a continuation of our virtues." Conceding that without the
Cheka the power of the workers could not exist so long as there
were capitalists and exploiters, he asserted that the Cheka ought
to be reformed. Specifically, its functions and competence ought
to be defined and limited to political matters. Greater revolution-
ary legality should be the slogan of the day.29 From the available
evidence this seems to be the last time in which a high official of
the Party criticized the secret police in a public statement While
the secret police has undergone a number of administrative over-
haulings and changes of name, it has continued as an important
feature of the Soviet regime down to the present day.

For Lenin and other Bolsheviks of his day terror was, of
course, not an aim in itself but a means to an end. Lenin evidently
tried to check the expansion of the secret police because he did
not want the tail to wag the dog. His post-revolutionary theoreti-
cal position was elaborated in the famous pamphlet, The Pro-

Political Dynamics 127

letarian Revolution and the Renegade Kautsky, first published in
1918, in which he replied to the criticism by Western or liberal
socialists of the Communist dictatorship.30 The core of the argu-
ment was that the Bolshevik terror was exercised in the interest
of the masses against the exploiting minority of the population
and was essential in order for the masses to benefit. The same
general viewpoint was also set out in Trotsky's reply to Kautsky,31
as well as in other Bolshevik writings of the day. They are in
essence an elaboration of the prerevolutionary position without
essential change.

The political end toward which terror was directed was crystal
clear to the top leaders of the Party, if not to others. A little more
than a year after the November Revolution Lenin spoke with
sarcastic derision about the request of the Austrian Socialist,
Friedrich Adler, for the release from jail on humanitarian grounds
of certain Mensheviks. The request gave Lenin one of his many
opportunities for comments on the weakness of Western European
democracy, which, he asserted, failed to perceive the class position
of the petty bourgeois parties and the threat to the Russian Rev-
olution brought about by their "wobbling." 82 In part this speech
was addressed to members of his own Party, among whom there
was considerable reluctance to apply physical repression against
former fellow revolutionaries. Until about 1922 Mensheviks,
Socialist Revolutionaries, Anarchists, and other leftists received
a privileged position and comparatively mild treatment in Soviet
jails, even though they were accused of aiding the bourgeoisie
and counterrevolutionary forces.33 It was in the same year, how-
ever, that Lenin wrote, in one of his many administrative notes,
that the courts must not do away with terror, but must give it a
legal basis "without false adornments/' There follows a sug-
gested law to the effect that "membership or participation in an
organization supporting that section of the international bour-
geoisie that tries to overthrow the Communists should be pun-
ished by death." Lenin's suggestion was adopted into the Soviet
criminal code.84

In this fashion, and through such concepts as the dictatorship
of the proletariat, the Bolsheviks gave a certain legitimate quality

128 The Dilemma of Authority

and overt recognition to the social necessity for the forcible re-
pression of groups and individuals opposed to the existing institu-
tions of society. They applied the Marxist theory of class relation-
ships as a blanket explanation for all hostility to their new status
quo. Likewise, the Marxist viewpoint gave rise to a strongly en-
vironmentalist explanation of crime and, in the early period at
least, to a denial of the existence of any universal code of morals,
and consequently of any objective conception of guilt. It is only
since about 1935, and with the stabilization of Soviet society in
general, that a new conception of crime, closer to orthodox West-
ern conceptions of personal guilt and individual responsibility,
has arisen. Even now strong traces of the older view remain.35

Problems of mass support: the Soviets

In their prerevolutionary and post-revolutionary writings the
Bolsheviks expressed no intention of establishing a regime based
upon force alone. Instead, Lenin hoped for the creation of a
regime that would be far more responsive to the needs of the
masses and more readily subject to their will than any political
organization previously known to man. The institutions that were
intended to bring about this close connection with the masses
were the Soviets.

In the days immediately following the November Revolution
some of these ideas found their way into the Constitution of the
Russian Socialist Federated Soviet Republic, adopted by the
Fifth Congress of Soviets on July 5, 1918. The first paragraph of
the Constitution proclaims that "Russia is a Republic of Soviets
of Workers, Soldiers, and Peasant Deputies. All power in the
center and locally belongs to these Soviets." 3<J Another paragraph
described the Russian Republic as a "free socialist society of all
the toilers of Russia." Within this territory "all power belongs
to the entire working population of the country, united in city
and village Soviets." The commentator adds in explanation, "We
wish to rule ourselves through the Soviets of toilers in the cities
and the villages/' Provision, of course, was made for some central-
ization of authority and responsibility. Section 12 stated that the
"supreme authority" belonged to the Ail-Russian Congress of

Political Dynamics 129

Soviets (made up of delegates from lower soviet organizations by
a system of indirect elections), and, between Congresses, to the
Ail-Russian Central Executive Committee.37 According to the Con-
stitution, local Soviets were supposed to carry out the decrees of
higher soviet organs, to take care of economic relationships within
their own areas of control, and to decide all questions of purely
local significance on their own initiative.

At this early date any constitution or attempt to define the
role of the Soviets was largely a statement of intentions, insofar
as local authority was concerned, The local situation was chaotic.
The commentator on the Constitution notes that in one place
power belonged in fact to the Military Revolutionary Committees,
quasi-military groups set up by the Bolsheviks and nominally sub-
ject to the Party and the Soviets, while in other places power was
in the hands of non-Party Soviets.38 The situation was probably
even more complicated than that, since in many places the city
Dumas and zemstvos, relics of Tsarist days, existed for weeks side
by side with the Soviets.89

While statements of intentions granting widespread autonomy
to the local Soviets were being issued by responsible Party
officials,40 the Party was at the same time engaged in consolidat-
ing its authority. As early as April 1918 the Left Wing Com-
munists began to complain about the loss of independence of the
local Soviets and restrictions on their activities brought about by
officials sent out from the center.41

The concentration of authority in the hands of the Party pro-
ceeded rapidly during the period of War Communism, by which
time other competing political groups had lost their right to exist.
At this time all ideas about the Soviets as a new social invention
sensitive to the will of the masses were pushed rudely into the
background. As a Soviet author wrote, local soviet democracy
was "compressed," subordinated to the interests of the govern-
ment as a whole. Because of the necessity for prompt action,
decision-making through "broad collectives" was replaced by
policy formulation through "narrow ones and by individuals." All
authority and all administrative work were in fact concentrated
in the governing centers, in the executive committees, their

130 The Dilemma of Authority

presidiums, and their chairmen. The subordination of the lower
to the higher units increased.42 Under the stress of emergency
conditions the need for a system of discipline and authority was
promptly recognized in practice, and Lenin's earlier anti-authori-
tarian views were disregarded.

In 1919, at the Eighth Congress, the Party proclaimed the goal
of obtaining decisive influence and complete control of all organi-
zations of the workers, and ordered that in all soviet organizations
there must be set up Party fractions strictly subordinated to Party
discipline.43 Considerable energy was required to unite all the
Soviets and subordinate them to a single will. In the course of
the campaign the slogan, "All power to the Soviets," upon which
Lenin had come to power, was turned against the Communists.44
In addition to methods of persuasion, the Bolsheviks evidently
resorted to force to a wide extent. The details of the suppression
of the Soviets, both higher and lower echelons of the system, and
alleged terroristic methods of administration are given in a resolu-
tion of the Socialist Revolutionaries to the Eighth Congress of
Soviets, December 23, 1920.45 The fact that such complaints could
be made openly indicates that Party control was not nearly as
successful as it became later. Owing to the system of indirect elec-
tions as well as other causes, Party control by the beginning of the
NEP was strongest at the top levels of the Soviet system, in the
Congress of Soviets and its Executive Committee, quite strong in
many of the city Soviets, and weak and precarious in the village
Soviets.

In the course of this struggle the idea came increasingly to
the forefront that the Communist Party, as the representative of
the vanguard of the proletariat, had a moral right to sole power
in the soviet organization. This idea was both a form of justifica-
tion for actions that were taken to meet the power requirements
of the moment and a continuation of Lenin's ideas concerning
the elite role of the Party. From a conspiratorial elite and van-
guard of the oppressed, the Party had advanced to the position of
a ruling elite. An early Soviet legal authority raised and answered
the question of the Party's new role in this manner: *I will not
mention here that the possibility exists of the Communist candi-

Political Dynamics 131

dates' failing to be elected to the Soviets and of the government's
being overthrown in this fashion by the Soviets . . . Thus the
one and only truly soviet party was and remains the Communist
Party."46 In a similar vein the Soviet Encyclopedia of Govern-
ment and Law, published by the Communist Academy in 1925,
declared: "Not a single political or organizational question is
decided by a single government establishment in our republic
without leading directives from the Central Committee of the
Party."47

The peasant revolts of 1920 and the Kronstadt rebellion of
1921 with its slogan of "soviets without Communists" served
warning that some of the controls would have to be relaxed. By
this time it was clear that the Party faced a serious problem. If it
retained an iron hand over the Soviets, the workers, and more
especially the peasants, would develop at best a lack of en-
thusiasm and at worst downright hostility. On the other hand, if
the Party relaxed its controls, there was a considerable danger that
hostile elements might take over the local Soviets.

The solution adopted in 1924 was an attempt at the restoration
of soviet democracy under the slogan of "enlivening the Soviets."
The discussions of the time reveal a clear awareness of the prob-
lems involved. The Congress of Soviets in a resolution of 1925 de-
clared that the major weaknesses of the Soviets consisted in a lack
of contact with the masses, their failure to act as collective organs,
the replacement of the soviet by its chairman, the inadequate dis-
cussion of economic and political matters at plenary sessions, and
similar matters.48

The problem of mass support was considered in detail at the
Fourteenth Party Conference, held at the end of April 1925. L. M.
Kaganovich, subsequently one of Stalin's top administrators, ob-
served: "If a deputy of a soviet goes to a meeting and knows
beforehand that all questions and decisions have been already
decided by a narrow committee of the Party, he won't show
much liveliness." 49 Although Kaganovich was not altogether clear
about how the two objectives of winning greater popular support
and maintaining Party control were to be simultaneously attained,
he appears to have believed that they might be achieved by

132 The Dilemma of Authority

diminishing the appearance of command without reducing its sub-
stance. His immediate practical solution was to suggest that, since
the Party leaders were often the same individuals as the local
soviet leaders, they should talk matters over more frequently with
their non-Party colleagues.

In these and other "top level" discussions of the problem, it is
quite clear that the Party had no intention of giving up its pre-
eminent position and permitting the growth of a 'loyal opposi-
tion." Instead, it wanted to widen the basis of mass support and
and in so doing drive out of strategic positions any groups or
individuals who opposed its policies. A declaration of the Party
Central Committee in July 1926 proclaimed that the policy of
enlivening the Soviets was directed toward "the final destruction
of the remnants of the influence of bourgeois elements (nepmen,
kulaks, and bourgeois intelligentsia) upon the toiling masses."50
On the positive side it was directed toward attracting the broad
masses of the peasantry and the proletariat into participating in
the task of soviet construction. In this task, according to the
declaration, the proletariat should preserve its directing role.51

The objective was one of voluntary and enthusiastic support.
Such support, however, could not be obtained and might even be
destroyed by a dictatorial approach on the part of local Party
officials, as had been the case under War Communism. There-
fore, at this time the petty tyranny of the less effective local
Communist leaders received severe criticism. Apparently some of
them were rather upset when, in Communist terminology, "they
lost their ideological monopoly in the village"— that is, when the
props of Party support were pulled out from under them.52 For
the same reasons the practice of appointing persons to the soviet
instead of holding elections, as well as the practice of mere
formal ratification of a list of candidates, received severe criti-
cism from the highest quarters in the Party.53 Understandably
enough, this policy of relaxation of restrictions was viewed with
considerable misgivings in various Party circles. Molotov in 1925
had considerable difficulty in juggling the electoral statistics to
show that the drop in the number of Communists in the local
Soviets did not imply any reason for the Party to fear the realiza-

Political Dynamics 133

tion of the "white guard slogan Soviets without Communists/ " M
The results of this attempt to revive soviet democracy were
only partly satisfactory from the Bolshevik point of view. They
were particularly disappointing at first. In January of 1925 a
decree was issued annulling elections in which the participation
of the voters fell below 35 per cent of the electorate.55 In cases in
which the elections were repeated, the results were even more
disappointing, until finally the authorities had to intervene to
annul the results of the repeated elections.56 In the course of
subsequent discussions the Party admitted that it had made a
mistake in widening the franchise at these elections, since the
increased growth of nepmen in both the city and the country
revealed the error of diminishing the number of persons deprived
of electoral rights.57 In time better results were achieved, at least
insofar as actual participation in the elections was concerned. Al-
though in 1922 only 22.3 per cent of the electorate participated
in the elections of village Soviets, 69.1 per cent participated in
1931. The corresponding figures for the city Soviets are 36.5 per
cent and 78.4 per cent58

As an indication of increasing mass participation in the work
of government, Soviet writers point to the very high percentage
of renewal or turnover in the city Soviets. In the Russian Socialist
Federated Soviet Republic in 1927 the average turnover in the
city Soviets was 64.5 per cent, while in the other republics it was
only a little lower.59 However, the authors concede that the goal
of having every worker participate to some extent in the work of
government was far from achieved. In the USSR as a whole, less
than 1 per cent of the electorate in the cities took on the burden
of continual work in connection with the Soviets.60 Presumably
this work was concerned with the various more or less voluntary
sections of the local Soviets which dealt with local matters such
as playgrounds, housing, and the like.

The reports of an investigation made by the Party revealed
in 1928 that the ordinary soviet deputy did not do any continuous
work in the operation of local government. According to this re-
port, the organ that made the decisions in the city and village
Soviets was the presidium. Open meetings merely ratified de-

134 The Dilemma of Authority

cisions that had already been reached,61 In the village Soviets, the
same source reports, all the work was done by the chairman and
the secretary, and secretly at that.62

There are several further indications that the Party by no
means achieved its goal of popular support by the device of
enlivening the Soviets. Party statements of the time are full of
references to a variety of forms of opposition to its policy. Since
criticism of the work of the Soviets (justifiable from the Com-
munist viewpoint) was at times identified with counterrevolu-
tionary activity, according to the admission of Bolshevik writers
themselves,63 the extent of opposition cannot be estimated with
much hope of accuracy. Some notion of the type of opposition can
be gleaned from the comments on the results of the 1926 elec-
tions. In writing of this campaign Party historians speak of the
existence of "counterrevolutionary agitation" on behalf of a special
peasants' party, and mention special peasant organizations in
opposition to the "hegemony of the proletariat and its vanguard,
the Communist Party." They also complain of "false leftist and
purely proletarian" slogans. Allegedly as a result of inadequate
preparation on the part of the Party, "hostile class elements"
managed to penetrate into the Soviets.64 On other occasions the
theme of the opposition was, according to the same report, "Why
is there no secret voting? It is unpleasant to vote openly against
the administration." At some election meetings opposition
speeches were made, reputedly counterrevolutionary pamphlets
distributed, and a struggle conducted against the candidates
nominated by the Party, In .other cases the opposition went so far
as to nominate its own candidates, an action described in tones of
horror by the Party writers.65 In still another instance a purge of
the election committees reportedly uncovered a number of cases
in which the kulaks had succeeded in getting elected even to the
committees themselves. In Siberia two thousand persons were re-
moved from the election committees.60 Still more cases are men-
tioned in which the Soviets passed anti-Communist resolutions,
such as the instance of one soviet in the Nizhnii-Novgorod Guber-
niya which declared that the "Soviet power ought not to divide the
peasants into poor, middle, and kulak'9 67

Political Dynamics 135

Taken together, these instances of opposition to the Party's
policy, and the way in which the Communists reacted, indicate a
clear effort by the Party to maintain strict control over the Soviets,
even if this effort was not always successful, and even if it was
carried out under the slogan of the restoration of democracy. It
is well that this point should be underscored, because several
writers have spoken of the absence of interference by the Party
in these early soviet elections.68

In rural areas the Party's difficulties were increased by the
fact that in many places the soviet failed to take root as a form
of political organization. Village affairs were still very largely
governed by the periodic meeting (skhod) of the village com-
munity.69 According to official Soviet historians, almost all ques-
tions concerning the local peasant population were considered at
the skhod, over which the village soviet exercised almost no con-
trol. Indeed, the soviet frequently fell under the leadership of
the skhod™ The latter was even guaranteed important rights,
especially in the field of taxation, by Soviet law.71 The description
of the skhod in a manual for local soviet officials gives further
details about the meetings of the village community and its rela-
tion with the soviet. The manual states: "Among the soviet organs
in the countryside the skhod has a special place. The skhod is not
the executive organ of the village soviet. The skhod is the general
assembly of citizens of a given village or villages who elect the
village soviet" The assembly is called to decide or discuss ques-
tions "requiring the expression of the general opinion of the
toilers'* and can be summoned by the village soviet.72

Still further difficulties were derived from the fact that in the
rural areas the thin red line of Party workers was stretched to
the utmost. In 1926, out of a rural population of about 120
million,78 there were only 154,000 Party members working in the
villages. Of these, 100,000 were in office jobs of one sort or an-
other/4

From the Communist point of view, the attempts to win en-
thusiastic mass support in the Soviets by means of a relaxation
of Party controls had been far from an outstanding success. In
the crises at the end of the twenties and early thirties that derived

136 The Dilemma of Authority

from the collectivization of agriculture and the initiation of rapid
industrialization, the Soviets were found incapable of serving as
an adequate contact between the Party and the masses. There-
fore, the top Party leadership decided once again to tighten its
control over the Soviets. This time the pattern of strict control
crystallized into a form that has remained more or less stable for
the past two decades. Parallel developments took place in the
trade unions and in the Party itself.

In December 1930 the Party Central Committee announced
new elections for the Soviets and plans for a complete reorgani-
zation of their work in connection with the new role that they
were called upon to play in collectivization and industrializa-
tion.75 According to this proclamation, "In the period of an ex-
panded socialist offensive the Party especially cannot tolerate
right-wing opportunist practices in the direction of soviet organs,
which practices not only do not secure the adopted Bolshevik
tempos of construction and a consistent battle with bureaucracy
on the basis of an expanded proletarian self-criticism, but also in
effect mean the sabotage and on occasion outright disruption of
the most important Party directives/' 76 Molotov remarked at the
time that, under the new conditions, "It is impossible to permit
. . . the slightest difference between the line of the Party and
the line of the Soviets." 7T

In 1930, Kaganovich admitted frankly that the Soviets, es-
pecially the rural and to some extent the city ones, had failed to
concentrate on the basic tasks of the day, that is, the socialist
reconstruction of agriculture and industrialization. "It is im-
possible," he stated, "to be satisfied with the situation when the
gigantic wave of collectivization passes over the heads of the
Soviets; when the Soviets, organs of the proletarian dictatorship,
which ought to be in the center and the leadership of every revo-
lutionary undertaking, drag at the tail of this vast movement of
social change." 7S The majority of the Soviets, it is reported, failed
even to discuss the major problems of the Five Year Plan.79

One of the measures adopted to correct this situation was the
strengthening of the control of the local Soviets by the "higher
organs of power," that is, the higher Soviets, where Party in-

Political Dynamics 137

fluence was much stronger.80 It is also at this time that local Party
officers tended increasingly to issue orders themselves instead of
through the Soviets, and to carry out policy directives over the
heads of the Soviets. For so doing they were, paradoxically, still
subject to reprimand and criticism.81

The paradox may be explained by the fact that the official
ideology concerning the necessity for voluntary mass support,
well expressed in the Webbs' phrase concerning the Party's "vo-
cation of leadership," was still retained and even elaborated
during this crisis. Kaganovich, in the course of his criticism of
Party and soviet activities, expressed clearly the ideology of the
vocation of leadership:

Leadership of the masses [requires] not only a correct policy,
not only good explanations of this policy, but also the force of example
on the job ... In mobilizing the workers around productive tasks
it is necessary to pay especially close attention to their enquiries, to
their needs in regard to living conditions, their material and cultural
requirements. One should not command, but lead; instead of flattery
there should be mutual criticism of one another's errors, correcting
them along the way, arming one's self with new strength, new ex-
amples and new energy for the successful execution of the hardest
tasks of socialist construction.82

The vocation of leadership was, of course, to remain in strictly
Party hands. As early as 1923 Zinoviev asserted that the Party
should have the courage to declare that the dictatorship of the
proletariat meant the dictatorship of the Party. This was nothing
to be ashamed of or to conceal, he added. The motto should be,
he concluded, the "division of labor— yes; the division of power-
no/'88

The Party's degree of success or failure in achieving its goal
of mass support may perhaps be measured by the expansion of
the secret police during this period. Between 1929 and 1934, the
main years of the so-called Stalinist revolution, the scope of
terrorism had reportedly expanded greatly.84 Even the Webbs,
who have produced the most laudatory of the reports that de-
serve serious consideration, declared that in 1935 the OGPU was
"an organization of great magnitude, extending to every corner

138 The Dilemma of Authority

of the USSR." 8S The fact that the development of secret police
activities was apparently encouraged rather than viewed with
alarm, as had been the case in Lenin's day, indicates that its func-
tion by this time coincided with high policy under the Stalinist
regime.

As has been seen, the Party's problem of reconciling its goal
of mass support with the necessity for safeguarding its own power
position was resolved largely in its own favor. Lenin's objective of
mass participation in the political process had encountered severe
obstacles. For fear of losing power the Communists were unable
or unwilling to relax their authority to any great extent. The
second obstacle was of a more general nature, often referred to
as the "iron law of oligarchy." While it is rather extreme to con-
sider such phenomena as an iron law, it is an observable fact that,
as a rule, power and responsibility tend to become concentrated
in the hands of the few rather than in the hands of the many. In
part this is a result of the general conditions of decision-making,
which demand that responsibility be granted to 6ne or a limited
number of persons in order to have any decisions made at all. In
part it appears to be the result of a general lack of interest in
political affairs among the masses, so long as daily life proceeds in
a familiar fashion.

In spite of the consequent abandonment in practice of Lenin's
ideas concerning the function of the Soviets, both the structure
and the official ideology have been preserved to a great extent.
The structure has been retained, since the Soviets now serve,
among other things, as an administrative extension of the Party.
The ideology has survived because, through such devices as care-
fully controlled elections, the Party is able to give at least the
appearance, and even to some extent the substance, of popular
support for its policies.

The Transformation of the
Rulers

The theory of decision-making: democratic centralism

In the preceding chapter it was pointed out how the crisis-strewn
history of the Bolshevik regime contributed to the concentration
of political authority in the hands of the Communist Party. Within
the Party itself similar forces were at work. In time they led to
the elimination of open disagreements in the Party ranks and the
concentration of authority at the apex of the Party pyramid.
Though the official ideology recognized these changes in part, the
recognition was not complete. Strong anti-authoritarian remnants
of the older view remained. To a very great extent they were
transformed, as in the case of the Soviets, to an ideology alleging
the existence of mass support for the new social order. To a
somewhat lesser extent they remained an ideal that from time to
time produced tensions and consequent efforts to restore "true"
inner Party democracy.

In the post-revolutionary years the doctrine of democratic
centralism as the theoretical principle which reconciled the need
for authority with the desire for democracy received further
elaboration and definition. Democratic centralism, according to an
authoritative Soviet source published toward the end of the
period of social readjustment in 1931, consisted of three major ele-
ments: (1) "the election of higher and lower Party organs at gen-
eral gatherings of Party members, Conferences, and Congresses."
Thus the principle of election was an indirect one. (2) "The peri-
odic accounting of Party organs before their electors." (3) The

140 The Dilemma of Authority

"obligatory nature of the decisions of higher Party organs for the
lower ones; strict discipline; and rapid execution of the decisions
... of controlling Party centers/' Moreover, centralism must be
democratic and not bureaucratic. It included the possibility of
changing the personnel of all Party organs. Furthermore, it in-
cluded the "right and obligation of each member of the Party
to speak out independently and on his own concerning a question
disputed within tie Party." *

These principles theoretically governed the Party in all of its
deliberations and activities, according to the Party statutes, first
adopted in 1919 and subjected to very little change thereafter.
Thus, in theory, the broad lines of Party policy were laid down
at Party Congresses which set the tactical line of the Party on
current questions. The Central Committee, while given consider-
able discretionary power, was conceived of as responsible to the
Congress and as the executor of policy formulated by the latter.
Discussion of all controversial questions was to be completely
free until a decision had been reached. The enumeration of the
Central Committee's executive functions included the power of
determining relations with other parties (a task which soon ceased
to exist) and the management of other Party organizations, such
as the press. The statutes merely mentioned the Politburo, de-
scribing its functions only as "political work."2 Although new
statutes were adopted at the Eleventh Party Conference in 1922,
at the Fourteenth Congress in 1925, and again at the Seventeenth
Congress in 1934,3 only one change reflected an alteration in the
distribution of power: in 1934 the new statutes provided that a
Party Congress should be called at least once every three years,
instead of annually.4 The preceding Congress had been held three
and a half years before, and the next one was not called for five
years.

Actual patterns of decision-making

As might be anticipated, Party folkways governing the making
of policy bore only a distant resemblance to the formal statements
that claimed to describe these behavior patterns. In the first place,
the number of crucial decisions was so great, and in many cases

Transformation of Rukrs 141

required such secrecy, that it would have been physically im-
possible to convene a Party Congress to consider all of them.

Because of this, just before the November Revolution on
October 23, 1917, a small nucleus was created within the Party
Central Committee at the suggestion of Dzerzhinsky, later chief
of the secret police. The original members were Lenin, Zinoviev,
Kamenev, Trotsky, Stalin, Sokol'nikov and Bubnov.5 The main
task envisaged at this time appears to have been little more than
the management of the details of the November uprising. Never-
theless, the idea of concentrating decision-making powers in the
hands of a very few leaders persisted, owing to the continuing
need for immediate and far-reaching decisions in the crises di-
rectly following the Revolution. By March 1919 the Eighth Party
Congress set up, as a permanently acting body, a Political Bureau
consisting of five members, who were "to decide on questions
which do not permit delay" and to report bimonthly on all its
work to a regular plenary session of the Central Committee.6 At
that time the Politburo consisted of Lenin, Trotsky, Stalin, Ka-
menev, and Bukharin.7 At no time during the period from 1919 to
1946 did the membership of the Politburo, including candidates,
exceed seventeen individuals.8

Although originally this elite within an elite was theoretically
established to decide upon political questions of an urgent nature,
after its first year of existence its range of authority had increased
enormously. Lenin, in a report of the Central Committee to the
Ninth Party Congress in 1920, stated that not only had the Polit-
buro "decided all questions of international and domestic politics"
but that "any question at all could be considered a political ques-
tion, upon the request of a single member of the Central Com-
mittee" to the Politburo.9 By 1928, according to the published
work plans of the Politburo, its functions (together with those
allocated to the Plenum of the Central Committee, a larger body
to which the Politburo was theoretically responsible) covered
almost the entire scope of political, economic, social, and cultural
problems in Soviet life.10

In spite of its actual position as the center of authority, and
although its members undoubtedly realize their high role in the

142 The Dilemma of Authority

state, there has never been an open admission that power is thus
concentrated. At the Fourteenth Party Congress in 1925, Stalin
declared: "The Politburo is sovereign as it is, it is higher than
all organs of the Central Committee except the Plenum. The
Plenum decides everything among us and it calls its leaders to
order when they begin to lose their balance." u This distinction
may perhaps be regarded as a deliberate effort to preserve a fic-
tion which not only accords with official ideology but might tend
to satisfy popular belief that high decision-making is conducted
through legally recognized channels and in an orderly representa-
tive fashion. Although the allegedly superior body of the Central
Committee, the Plenum, has met at decreasingly frequent inter-
vals since 1917, while the Politburo has increased its number of
sessions manyf old,12 the myth of the Central Committee's superior
role is steadfastly maintained in published materials. In more
recent years and at the present time when Party decrees of
major significance have been published, they are always issued in
the name of the Central Committee as a whole, without mention
of any role played by the Politburo.

The urgent flavor of the atmosphere in which early decisions
by the Politburo were reached was well captured by Lenin in
his report of the Central Committee to the Ninth Party Congress
in 1920: "There were so many questions that we had to decide
them one after another under conditions of extraordinary haste.
It was only possible to carry out the work, thanks to the members'
complete knowledge of each other, their awareness of each other's
shades of opinion, and their complete trust [in one another]. We
often resorted to deciding complicated questions by telephone
conversations instead of holding meetings." 13

This simple method of reaching decisions, as well as the
dominant role of the Politburo, are sharply illustrated in an in-
formal report by Lenin himself. On December 22, 1921, he tele-
phoned the Politburo, saying, "I ask a discussion of the question,
shouldn't the Congress of Soviets adopt a special resolution
against the adventurist policies of Poland, Finland and Rumania?
(About Japan we'd better keep quiet for a number of reasons.)
The resolution should say in detail how we have shown by actions

Transformation of Rulers 143

that we value . . . peaceful relations with the countries that
formerly belonged in the Russian empire . . . The resolution
should end with a sharp threat that if ... these adventurist
pranks do not stop ... we will rise up in ... war . . , A
resolution of the Congress along these lines would be useful if
we could spread it around among the masses in all languages." 14
The Ninth Congress of Soviets, which opened on the following
day, adopted a resolution closely following Lenin's suggestions.15

Trotsky in his autobiography corroborates the impression of
great haste and the mood of emergency among the decision-
makers when he reports: "On the decisions made and the orders
given in those days depended the fate of the nation for an entire
historical era. And yet those decisions were made with very little
discussion. I can hardly say that they were even properly weighed
and considered; they were almost improvised on the moment. But
they were none the worse for that. The pressure of events was
so terrific, and the work to be done so clear before us, that the
most important decisions came naturally, as a matter of course,
and were received in the same spirit." le From other information
available it is clear that Lenin's and Trotsky's descriptions applied
only to situations in which the ruling ideology of the Party pro-
vided a ready answer to the problem at hand. Whenever there
existed a consensus among the Party leaders concerning objectives
and the proper techniques to achieve them, the decisions prob-
ably did come "as a matter of course."

When this consensus was lacking, alternative interpretations
of the existing situation and alternative courses of action were
presented with much heat. As a rule, though by no means always,
Lenin's prestige was sufficient, when added to tie force of his
arguments, to win adoption for his views. The case of the discus-
sions concerning war or peace with Germany, the issue of Brest-
Litovsk, illustrates this situation. In the beginning of the nego-
tiations Lenin was almost alone in his opinion that war against
Germany was physically impossible and that Russia would have
to take what terms she could get. Trotsky, who was in charge of
the actual negotiations but returned for consultation, developed
the formula of "No war— no peace," in essence a delaying tactic

144 The Dilemma of Authority

in the hopes that revolutionary disintegration might set in be-
hind the German lines. Bukharin wanted to wage a revolutionary
crusade against Germany. On several occasions Lenin was out-
voted in meetings of the Central Committee as the negotiations
teetered back and forth. Eventually his formula triumphed in the
face of the stark realities of a German offensive.17

In accord with the theory of democratic centralism, members
of the Politburo and other high decision-making units were sup-
posed to adhere to the decision of the majority in public state-
ments at least, no matter what their personal convictions. Of
course, this was not intended to prevent them, in the early days
at least, from giving vigorous expression to their convictions
behind the closed doors of secret committee meetings. As the
Brest-Litovsk case shows, the system tended to break down as
soon as disagreements became severe.18

The Brest-Litovsk controversy is also significant in bringing
to light from the very beginning the role of a single leader. Lenin
got his way through the threat of resignation as well as through
the force of argument, a continuation of the early prerevolution-
ary situation before the Party had passed beyond the stage
of discussion circles. However, the position of the single leader
was not as strong then as it became subsequently. On other issues
Lenin was overruled. The case of the Constituent Assembly was
described in the preceding chapter. Lenin was again overruled
or persuaded, perhaps a combination of the two, on the question
of abandoning Petrograd to the Whites,19 as also in the question
of whether or not to end the war with Poland.20 In the inter-
regnum preceding and following Lenin's death, the Party was
ruled for about a year by a self-appointed triumvirate (Stalin,
Kamenev, and Zinoviev). Though factional struggles continued,
no one proved successful in challenging Stalin's leadership after
the Fourteenth Congress in 1925.

The issues of Party discipline in connection with "fractional
behavior'* and freedom of discussion came shortly to the fore in
1921, just preceding the marked reversal of Communist policy
that took place with the adoption of the New Economic Policy.
The immediate issue, it may be recalled, concerned the role of

Transformation of Rulers 145

the trade unions in the toilers' state. According to Lenin, the
disagreements on this problem within the Central Committee
made necessary an appeal to the Party as a whole.21 During Janu-
ary of 1921 a series of polemical articles by various top Party
leaders in Pravda, the Party daily, presented a wide variety of
views. In sharp contrast with later practice, the "official" draft
platform of the Party did not appear until January 18. Discussion
did not cease then; on the twenty-fifth Bukharin criticized Lenin's
views in polite language, and the theses of the Workers' Opposi-
tion, a left-wing group within the Party, also appeared. On the
whole, the discussion resembled one which might be found on
any major issue in American newspapers of large-scale circula-
tion. That is, the major premises concerning the desirable forms
of social organization were largely accepted by all participants,
whereas the discussion revolved chiefly around interpretations of
the best way to achieve generally accepted goals.

But the discussion was not fated to be a step in the direction
of Western democratic practices, Lenin rapidly grew annoyed
with what he felt were empty theoretical discussions while Russia
and the Party were still in a crisis of survival. His ideas, to which
Stalin turned in his efforts to crush the later opposition, deserve
full quotation:

Probably there are not many among you who do not regard this
discussion as having been an excessive luxury. Speaking for myself,
I cannot but add that in my opinion this luxury was really absolutely
impermissible; by permitting such a discussion we undoubtedly made
a mistake and failed to see that in this discussion a question came to
the forefront which, because of the objective conditions, should not
have been in the forefront; we wallowed in luxury and failed to see
to what an extent we were distracting attention from the urgent and
menacing question of this very crisis that confronted us so closely.22

As a result, Lenin obtained at the Tenth Party Congress the
passage of measures to eliminate such discussions in the future.
Calling attention to the danger of factional groups with special
platforms and their own group discipline, the Congress empow-
ered the Central Committee "to carry out the complete destruc-
tion*' of these groups in the future. This was a long step in the

146 The Dilemma of Authority

direction of the monolithic conception of the Party, which even-
tually became the official one. A secret clause, later revealed by
Stalin, provided for the expulsion from the Central Committee
of a member who had violated the new rules against fractional
behavior.23 In this manner a bench mark was established, to
which the Party was to return in the struggle with the various
subsequent oppositions and, still later, in the purge trials follow-
ing the consolidation of Stalin's power.

In 1921, however, the Party was by no means ready to shut
off all public discussion within its own ranks. Lenin himself as-
serted that the mere prohibition of discussion would not solve
the problem. Therefore, he sought to drain off the antagonisms
arising from divergent views by creating outlets for the presenta-
tion of different theoretical viewpoints in special publications,
symposia, and the like. With a trace of sarcasm he observed, "If
anyone is interested in studying the quotations from Engels down
to the last word, here is his opportunity!" 24 Though the results
of these symposia were to be published, Lenin evidently regarded
them mainly as a way to prevent argument among the masses of
the Party. In this manner he sought to create an outlet for the
Party intellectuals that would not diminish Party unity. Roughly
parallel devices, the appointment of committees of inquiry, and
so forth, are a familiar phenomenon in contemporary democratic
states.

The taming of the rank and file

Parallel to the concentration of the decision-making power in
the hands of the top Party leaders, there took place a correspond-
ing diminution in die influence of the rank and file on matters of
major import. Debates at the early Party Congresses were lively
affairs in which there was a genuine interchange of opinion on
the important issues of the day. Speakers were by no means
limited to the elite of the Party, and on occasion one may find
in the stenographic reports sharp attacks on general Party policy
by relatively unknown delegates. While there is no reason to
spare the salt in evaluating Lenin's frequent comments on the way
he "picked up" solutions to important problems from his conver-'

Transformation of Rulers 147

sations with ordinary delegates at the Congresses, there is also
abundant evidence of the way in which he kept his ear to the
ground. One incident at a meeting of the Central Committee
shows the attitude of this body toward the Congress quite clearly.
In reply to Lenin's attack, Riazanov, later the editor of Marx's
works in Russian, asserted that he could not refrain from criticism
when he considered the policy of the Bolsheviks deeply mistaken.
In such cases, he explained, in which the decisions of the Central
Committee are "dictated by political combinations and are not
based upon the decisions of the supreme organ of the Party Con-
gress, I consider it my duty to struggle against them." 25

There are also indications during the early years of wide-
spread discussions. These were formal occasions, when the mat-
ters upon which the Central Committee could not agree were
thrown open to the Party for general discussion. Between 1917
and 1925 four of these took place, concerning the Brest peace,
the trade unions, the Party bureaucracy including problems of
economic planning and the peasant question, and finally the dis-
cussions on permanent revolution and world revolution. After
debate in the Party cells and other groups, a vote expressing the
opinion of the group would be taken and the results forwarded
to higher Party units. Pravda, for instance, reported that in the
trade-union discussion of 1921 a large number of meetings were
held, four fifths of which in the Moscow area voted for the official
theses put out by Lenin and his associates.26 Even though the
"official" theses enjoyed enormous prestige and were adopted in
every important case, until 1921 competing theses were presented
fully and with supporting arguments for the rank and file to
choose among. According to official Party doctrine, the masses
made the actual decisions on these and other crucial occasions.
In the case of the trade-union discussion, Lenin described the
situation in these terms: "In this discussion, the Party proved
itself to be so mature that, seeing a certain wavering among the
'upper ranks/ hearing the 'upper ranks' saying as it were, "We
cannot agree, sort us out/ it quickly mobilised itself for this task,
and the overwhelming majority of the larger Party organisations
quickly answered us, *We have an opinion and we shall tell you

148 The Dilemma of Authority

what it is/ " 27 Thus, for a time at least, the official mythology
concerning the role of the rank and file approached the concep-
tion of vox populi, vox del. It is important to remember, however,
that this conception never extended to the whole of the popula-
tion, but only to the rank and file of the Party. It did not even
extend to the whole of the industrial working class, a large por-
tion of which was considered culturally ''backward/*

Nevertheless, the limitations on the powers of the Party rank
and file had already begun in Lenin's time. As early as the Eighth
Congress in 1919 there were numerous complaints about the lack
of opportunities for the rank and file to participate in discussions,
about the bureaucratization of the Party, the presence of too
many "decorative figures" in the Central Committee, the pro-
cedure of voting for Central Committee members by list instead
of by individual candidates, and similar matters.28 The next year
the complaints were even stronger. One outspoken delegate in a
sharply worded attack on Lenin went so far as to call the dicta-
torship of the proletariat the dictatorship of the Party bureau-
crats.29

During Lenin's lifetime the major influence, if not the sole
one, brought to bear upon the rank and file was perhaps the
prestige of the leaders and the force of their arguments. After
Lenin's death there is increasing evidence that more concrete
measures were brought to bear and that Stalin displayed consid-
erable skill in the manufacture of rank-and-file opinion.

Stalin rapidly took advantage of the devices created by Lenin
to prevent the outbreak of factional disputes. One of these was
the series of Party Control Commissions, created at the Tenth
Congress in 1921. Stalin gained control of them the following
year when four of his supporters were elected to the seven-man
board of the Central Control Commission.80 These Commissions
were a bureaucratic device established to combat bureaucracy.
Their tasks were described at the time as conducting the struggle
against bureaucracy, careerism, misuse by Party members of their
official positions, and particularly against the "spreading of rumors
and insinuations , . . destructive of the Party's unity and au-
thority."31 Their functions were so broadly defined that they

Transformation of Rulers 149

made any member of the Party with independent views subject
to investigation by the Commissions.

In the spring of 1923 the Party declared that the Control Com-
missions should not limit their work to the collection and veri-
fication of facts concerning the violation of Party decrees, "but
must become initiating organs in learning about, and removing
the causes themselves, of anti-Party acts and diseased manifes-
tations in the Party." 32 Some years earlier the Party had approved
the creation of investigative staffs for the Control Commissions,
which were regarded by opposition sources as a new variety of
secret police within the Party itself. This impression was no doubt
strengthened by another Party declaration of 1923 which de-
manded that individuals of the "Chekist type" ought to be elected
to the Central Control Commission.33 A Soviet source states
specifically that the services of the Control Commissions were
shown especially clearly in connection with their struggle against
the Trotskyite opposition, and attributes the exclusion of ''hun-
dreds of thousands'* of persons (no doubt an enormous exaggera-
tion) to their tireless activities.34 Again after the defeat of the
Right Opposition the Sixteenth Party Congress congratulated the
Central Control Commission upon its success in eliminating from
the Party "ideologically foreign elements." 35

Another important step in Stalin's manipulation of rank-and-
file opinion took place immediately after Lenin's death and after
the struggle between Stalin and Trotsky had broken out into the
open. Early in 1924 the Party proclaimed a mass enrollment of
new members, the so-called Leninist levy. The official Party his-
tory, first published in 1938, in its account of the levy reveals
clearly its motives: "In those days of mourning every class-
conscious worker defined his attitude to the Communist Party,
the executor of Lenin's behest. The Central Committee of the
Party received thousands upon thousands of applications from
workers for admission to the Party. The Central Committee re-
sponded to this movement and proclaimed a mass admission of
politically advanced workers into the Party ranks/' S6 It is perhaps
not too much to infer that the new members were screened to
exclude those opposed to Stalin and his followers, who were

150 The Dilemma of Authority

already the dominant group in the Central Committee. The
importance of this flooding of the Party with new members may
be noted from the fact that in 192S, at the Twelfth Congress,
386,000 members were represented; in 1924, at the Thirteenth
Congress, the membership had risen to 735,881.37 In subsequent
years the flooding continued. By 1929 the membership figure had
reached 1,551,238. Of these, 73.4 per cent had entered the Party
after 1923.38

In his voluminous writings of the opposition period and after-
ward, Trotsky accused Stalin time and again of highhanded
methods in packing Party Congresses with his own supporters,
using the secret police to intimidate his opponents, and similar
techniques. As early as 1923 Preobrazhensky revealed that 30
per cent of the secretaries of the guberniya Party committees were
"recommended" for their positions by the Party Central Com-
mittee, and expressed fears concerning the abuse of the Party's
power to transfer its members from one type of job to another.89
Several others complained that no one who had ever been in an-
opposition group could get a responsible post40 Even if one makes
considerable allowance for political spite, it is unlikely that these
complaints were without foundation. Stalin rapidly developed his
position as Party Secretary General, to which he was elected in
1922, into one that enabled him to maintain close contact with
local Party organizations. In this way he was able to reward his
friends and punish his enemies.

In addition to the above devices, Stalin and his followers
exerted increasing pressure to prevent the opposition from pre-
senting its views before the Party rank and file. One incident
from the year 1927 reveals the mechanics as well as the psychol-
ogy of this repression. In October Stalin declared that the Central
Committee had not printed the opposition platform "not because
we fear the truth"; stenographic reports of the Plenums of the
Central Committee and the Central Control Commission contain-
ing opposition speeches were distributed, he said, by the thousand
to members of the Party. The platform was not printed, he as-
serted, because it was a sign of "fractional behavior." Then he
cited Lenin's resolutions and actions at the 1921 Party Congress

Transformation of Rulers 151

forbidding fractional behavior in support of the refusal to print
the opposition document.41 These reports had, of course, a much
more limited circulation than the general Party press, which had
previously been available from time to time for the presentation
of opposition views. By the time the Right Wing Opposition had
begun to develop, in about 1928, Stalin's suppression of opposi-
tion policies had become so successful that it is now extremely
difficult to reconstruct the objectives of the Right Opposition
from published sources.

In subsequent years Stalin attempted to minimize the extent
and importance of the opposition groupings within the Party. So
far as I am aware, no figures were ever published to indicate the
degree of mass support obtained by the Right Opposition. In the
case of the Left Opposition, the official Stalinist Party history of
1938 reports that, in the October 1927 discussion, 724,000 mem-
bers voted for the policy of the Central Committee, while only
4,000 members, or less than 1 per cent, voted for Trotsky's plat-
form.42 Ten years before Stalin gave a quite different evaluation
of Trotsky's strength. Referring to the same discussion, Stalin
then reported that 10,000 persons voted against the Central Com-
mittee's platform, while there were in addition about 20,000
persons who sympathized with Trotsky but refrained from at-
tending the meetings or voting.45

The taming of the rank and file was very largely completed
by the end of 1925. After the Fourteenth Congress, held in
December of that year, public attacks on the persons and policies
of the leaders ceased almost completely. It is impossible to deter-
mine to what extent this shutting off of mass criticism resulted
from the difference between Lenin's personality and Stalin's, and
to what extent it was due to differences in external circumstances.
In the light of Lenin's action in temporarily repressing discussion
and fractional behavior in 1921, it seems reasonable to attribute
greater significance to the circumstances than to the personalities.
From 1925 onward public criticism by the rank and file was
directed toward the way in which policy was executed and prac-
tically never toward the policy itself or those who formulated it.
In this way the Bolshevik version of the tradition of free speech

152 The Dilemma of Authority

was transformed into a weapon that the central authorities were
able to use to keep their subordinates in place and to break up
any incipient clusters of power that formed around local leaders.

Conflicting conceptions of rule

The concentration of power in the hands of the Central Com-
mittee, and actually within the Politburo, together with the
elimination of opportunities for the presentation of alternative
interpretations and solutions to the problems facing Russian so-
ciety, was accompanied by a severe ideological struggle. In this
struggle the authoritarian conception of the Party emerged greatly
strengthened. In its more or less final form the authoritarian con-
ception was exemplified in Stalin's doctrine of a "monolithic"
Party.

In the prerevolutionary period there was a strong undercur-
rent of opposition to the authoritarian conception of the Party
promulgated by Lenin. In the post-revolutionary period this
antagonism formed a common element in the platforms and com-
plaints of the various opposition groups, who differed widely
from one another on other matters. In 1917 it was the theme of
Bukharin's Left Opposition, as well as of the hesitancies and
objections raised on individual issues by Kamenev, Zinoviev,
Lunacharsky, and others.

As early as 1919 a faction within the Party organized itself
under the specific banner of opposition to dictatorial methods
in the Party and the country as a whole, calling itself the Demo-
cratic Centralism Group, In that year the members proposed that
the petty-bourgeois parties which were not opposed to the Soviet
regime should be permitted freedom of the press and freedom
of assembly. By 1920 this group had obtained considerable local
support in the Ukraine. In the fall of that year they demanded
the legalization of oppositional groups in the Party in statements
that approach the Western doctrine of a 'loyal opposition/' One
of their members wrote in Prauda, 'Without the conflict of opin-
ions, without the struggle of movements and groups, without an
opposition, proletarian democracy cannot exist."44 They were
later accused of trying to turn the Party into an educational so-

Transformation of Rulers 153

ciety that would be no more than an appendage of the Soviets.45
It is difficult to determine to what extent the members of this
loose grouping were motivated by a genuine interest in the exten-
sion of proletarian democracy, and to what extent they were dis-
turbed by their failure to receive adequate consideration and
rewarding posts in the Party hierarchy.

In general, and throughout the Party's history, it was the
groups excluded from power that propounded an anti-authori-
tarian version of Bolshevism. Trotsky underwent a conversion
from an extreme authoritarian position to one that resembled
closely modern Western liberalism. For his authoritarian views
on the necessity for discipline and the introduction of the death
penalty in the Red Army, he clashed with other Party leaders,
but was supported by Lenin. His proposals for the militarization
of labor, which set off the discussions preceding the adoption of
the NEP, were a part of the same pattern. In 1917, when Luna-
charsky was greeted with applause for an attack on Lenin that
ended with the prediction that some day only one man would
remain— a dictator, Trotsky jumped to Lenin's defense and poured
contempt on those who adopted a "bookish attitude" toward the
class struggle. "The moment they got a whiff of the revolutionary
reality, they began to talk a different language." 46

In 192S and 1924, when Trotsky had already lost much of his
power in the internal struggle in the Central Committee, but was
still regarded as a loyal supporter of the regime by the rank and
file who knew little or nothing about this struggle, he published
a famous series of articles that immediately aroused a storm of
controversy. In these he presented a criticism of the Party bu-
reaucracy and an analysis of the decision-making process that
resembled the views of the Democratic Centralist opposition. At
this time he evidently hoped that his differences with other Party
leaders could be reconciled after public discussion. In his articles
he showed a keen awareness of the dilemma of authority: the
need for both discipline and flexibility. He also made several
suggestions on how to meet it.

According to Trotsky's interpretation of 1924, Party policy
emerged from the conflict of views within the Party. To localize

154 The Dilemma of Authority

this process in the Party bureaucracy and present the final results
in the form of slogans would, he argued, emasculate the Party.
On the other hand, to make the entire Party participate in the
decision-making process meant running the danger of fractions.
Fractions in turn derived from the fact that the Party was the
only political group possible under present-day conditions, and
hence contained some representatives of different interest group-
ings.47 Citing the instance of strong disagreement within the Party
over the peace of Brest-Litovsk and over the organization of the
Red Army, Trotsky argued that events handled with success led
to the reconciliation of factions instead of to the danger of splits
and disunity. In effect, he claimed that since the Party had over-
come previous emergencies without stifling criticism, it would
continue to do so in the future.48 In another passage he remarked,
"The collective Party view gradually extracts from the discussion
that which it needs, becomes more ripe and self-confident." Again,
he declared that the dust would settle from present controversies,
and the truth emerge.49 The similarity is striking between Trot-
sky's conceptions at this time and the assumption that truth will
prevail in the competition of ideas in a free market, perhaps the
basic assumption behind the modern Western ideal of civil
liberties.

Trotsky's conception of the right and duties of a Party member
likewise resembled closely certain tenets of modern Western in-
dividualism. A Bolshevik, he said, is not only a disciplined person;
he is also a person "who works out for himself on each and every
occasion a firm viewpoint and in a manly and independent way
defends it not only in the fight against the enemy, but also within
the organization itself." 50 If he is in the minority, Trotsky con-
tinued, he subordinates himself because it is his Party. But that
does not always mean that such an individual is wrong. It may
simply mean that he has seen the need for a change in policy
before others have seen it. Such a person persistently brings up
the same question, once, twice, ten times. In this way he per-
forms a service for the Party and helps it find the right way "with-
out fractional convulsions."51 In these passages Trotsky comes
very close to the conception of a responsible and loyal Party

Transformation of Rulers 155

opposition. The idea was not altogether new. In 1918 the Left
Wing Communists regarded themselves as a group maintaining
complete unity with the Party, even going so far as to suggest
that they might become a "responsible proletarian opposition." 52

The debates produced by this series of articles by Trotsky
were hot and heavy within the Politburo. Bukharin, it was re-
vealed later, wanted to have Trotsky arrested for publishing
them.53 Instead, he was given the task of producing an official
reply. Therein he expressed the viewpoint that was destined later
to be victorious, and which was in time to be turned against him.
The Communist Party, he declared, never was, and never could
be a mere federation of groups, as implied by Trotsky. So long
as the Party was at its fighting post, unity could not be aban-
doned.64 Finally, in April 1924, the Party issued a resolution,
declaring that the Trotskyite opposition was endeavoring to re-
place the "Bolshevik conception of a monolithic Party with the
conception of the Party as die sum of all possible tendencies and
fractions," In so doing, said the resolution, the opposition was
abusing the principles of Party democracy.55

This is one of the earliest occasions on which the term "mono-
lithic Party" was used, and as such marks an important turning
point in die history of Communist doctrine. The seeds of the
monolithic conception in Stalin's mind may be found in a re-
markable speech delivered to local Party workers on December 2,
1923. The speech was reprinted in Pravda, along with several
others by important top leaders, and later gathered into a pam-
phlet marked "for Party members only." 56

In contrast to several of the other leftist contributors who
referred to the demoralization of the Party and the rise of self-
seeking elements in it, resulting from contact between the Com-
munists and the profiteers of the NEP, or the growing division
within the Party between those who made decisions and those
who carried them out, Stalin's tone was for the most part opti-
mistic. In general, he said, the Party line as expressed in the
Congresses and major actions of the Party was correct. At the
same time he warned against two extremist tendencies within
the Party. One was the demand for complete democracy and the

156 The Dilemma of Authority

abolition of the requirements concerning length of Party mem-
bership for election to offices of Party responsibility. This demand
could not be met, he asserted, under present-day NEP conditions,
when bourgeois elements attempted to creep into the Party. This
comment was in reply to Trotsky's criticism of the Party old
guard, which he had already accused of bureaucratic degenera-
tion. The second extremist danger, said Stalin, was the demand
for complete freedom of discussion. In this he opposed as inade-
quate the conception of the Party as a "voluntary union of those
who think alike/' It is also, he averred, a military union of those
who act alike on the basis of a common program. The first con-
ception, Stalin argued, can have only two possible outcomes. On
the one hand, the Party might become a narrow sect or philo-
sophical school where all think alike. On the other hand, it might
become a discussion club, eternally debating and never acting.
In either case it would lose its capability of effective political ac-
tion. Discussion is necessary, he agreed, but there must be definite
limits set.57

Like Lenin before him, Stalin appeared tired of endless theo-
retical discussion and impatient to get down to immediate prac-
tical matters. Acknowledging the widespread incompetence of the
Communist cells in the rural areas, he asked why they should not
set to work spreading a little elementary knowledge of good
farming practices among the peasants. Do you know, he said in
effect, that if every peasant did a little work cleaning seeds we'd
get a ten pood increase in the yield per desyatina? This means a
milliard poods per year in gross production with no new ma-
chinery. "Is this really less important than conversations about
Curzon's politics?" he concluded, with a heavy touch of sarcasm.58

In the course of further clashes during the twenties, the con-
ception of a monolithic Party became hardened and elaborated.
The development, however, did not proceed in a straight line.
As late as 1926 Stalin quoted Marx and Engels to prove that the
Communists, like other parties, developed and grew by means of
an internal struggle.59 At the same time, the mixture of rational
and mystical elements characteristic of Russian Marxism, which
sometimes seem ridiculous to a Westerner, cropped out periodi-

Transformation of Rulers 157

cally. Sir John Maynard mentions the time when for several days
Party circles discussed the question of whether or not the Party
was infallible.60 On another occasion, when Stalin in 1928 was
explaining the monolithic conception, someone from the floor
asked quite seriously if a split was possible under these condi-
tions. Stalin replied that the question was not the possibility of a
split, but whether a split could be justified on Leninist grounds.
Because of the class purity of the Party, he went on to show, such
a split was not justifiable.61

By 1931, after the Right Wing had been completely defeated,
a new tone may be detected in Stalin's pronouncements. The
occasion for his major statement was a magazine article on prewar
Party history, which might seem an academic subject until one
recalls Trotsky's similar use of Party history to cast doubts on the
competence of Stalin's leadership. Stalin wrote to the editors of
the offending magazine: "This [publication of the article] means
that you intend once again to draw people into a discussion on
questions which are axioms of Bolshevism. It means that you are
again thinking of turning the question of Lenin's Bolshevism
from an axiom into a problem needing 'further elaboration.' . . .
Why? On what grounds? . . . Perhaps for the sake of a rotten
liberalism, so that the Slutskys and other disciples of Trotsky may
not be able to say that they are being gagged? A rather strange
sort of liberalism, this, exercised at the expense of the vital in-
terests of Bolshevism." e2 The evolution of Stalin's views is clearer
if the above statement is contrasted with his observation in 1924
that the Party would have been "a caste and not a revolutionary
party had it not allowed certain shades of opinion in its midst." 63

Stalin's attack on rotten liberalism was widely distributed
throughout the USSR and repeated and elaborated by Party pam-
phleteers. It is perhaps in this statement that one finds for the
first time the overt recognition of a monolithic dictatorship over
intellectual and political life. In essence, Stalin was saying that
certain theories of Bolshevism were above and beyond criticism,
because such criticism endangered the foundations of the regime.
While it is not possible to put a finger on any specific date for
the adoption of this viewpoint in official circles, by its adoption

158 The Dilemma of Authority

the Communist Party crossed a great divide. Despite his dogma-
tism and intransigence, Lenin had permitted direct criticism of
his major assumptions by his Party colleagues. Both Lenin and
Stalin, as well as other Party leaders, had admitted their mistakes
on several public occasions. But now Party doctrine, formulated
by a very small elite, was to be regarded as above and beyond
criticism. Likewise, the leaders were above and beyond criticism
by ordinary mortals. In time the conception of Stalin as an in-
fallible leader emerged.

The question is often raised whether the authoritarian ele-
ments of Bolshevism were inherent in the original tradition of
Leninism. Quite frequently the question is answered in the
affirmative. Those who do not answer with an unqualified af-
firmative sometimes draw attention to Stalin's personality as the
key factor in the growth of the authoritarian system. Granted
that the tradition of Leninism provided a significant starting
point, the preceding chapters have missed their mark if they
have not drawn attention to the existence and role of an anti-
authoritarian tradition in Communist circles, as well as the
significance of political and economic conditions in the transfor-
mation of this tradition in the service of authoritarian ends.

8

The Mythology of Status and
the New Bureaucracy

Early fumblings

Just before the assumption of political responsibility by the
Bolsheviks, Lenin expressed the opinion that modern capitalism
had so greatly simplified the functions of management and con-
trol in modern society that they could be performed at work-
men's wages by any literate file clerk. All that was necessary was
some variety of political control by the workers over this rela-
tively simple machinery. Armed with these ideas the Bolsheviks
took over the sprawling colossus of prostrate Russia.

Before the November coup £6tat Lenin had been in favor of
planning and centralized political control over the economic
processes, though he did not consider in detail how this political
control would be achieved beyond references to the effect that
the Soviets would take care of all .such matters. When the time
came to put these ideas into practice, political circumstances
were such that for the moment centralized control or planning
was out of the question.

Instead, the factories were turned over to the workers to
manage as best they could under the famous decree on Workers'
Control. In effect, the decree meant little more than an official
blessing for the workers* attempts to take power in various cities,
a movement the Bolsheviks could hardly afford to discourage at
the time. According to its provisions, drafted by Lenin himself,
general elections should be held in each plant over a certain size
to determine who was to represent the workers and manage the

160 The Dilemma of Authority

plant. These representatives were to be given access to all the
books and documents of the plant. Their decisions, subject to
rather vague control from the higher Soviet authorities and the
trade unions, were to be obligatory upon the owners of the
enterprises.1

About 40 per cent of the factories in the area of Russia con-
trolled by the Bolsheviks were affected by the system of workers'
control.2 Where the factory representatives did assume control
and continue production, the workers proceeded to promote the
interests of their own factory with little or no regard to the in-
terests of the community or the state. The role of the state was
reduced practically to that of paying subsidies. One careful stu-
dent of the movement has concluded that these first months after
the November Revolution constituted a time—and the only time
—when a real dictatorship of the real workers existed. In this case,
however, the power of the workers, as this writer points out,
rested basically upon the temporary impotence of the state.3 By
the beginning of 1918 the experiment was at an end and the
plant committees reduced to organs of the trade unions within
the factory, with functions that had little, if anything, to do with
the control of production.4

The experiment in workers' control resembles other applica-
tions of the more naive versions of equalitarianism in the first
months following the Revolution. When Trotsky took over the
Tsarist Ministry of Foreign Affairs to transform it into the Bol-
shevik People's Commissariat, he is reported to have called to-
gether those willing to work with the new organization and
announced, "Comrades, don't forget, everybody from commissar
to watchman is equal now! *Your worship' [the old term for
addressing superiors] doesn't exist any more." 5 Ivan Maisky, who
later became ambassador to England, reports that the Commis-
sariat was organized on a democratic basis, and that the employees
tried to form a collective to govern the foreign policy of the new
workers' state. Machine guns were placed in strategic corners of
the corridors of the former Ministry Building, while the vice-
commissar always wore a large pistol in his belt, much to the
discomfort of visiting diplomats. Occasionally, diplomatic con-

Mythology of Status 161

versations were carried on above the sound of machine-gun fire
from the guards who practiced their weapons to while away the
tedium of their jobs.6 Nevertheless, concern with status and pro-
tocol asserted itself almost at once. The French mission consist-
ently refused to use the word "People's" Commissariat in papers
addressed to this office. In turn, the Soviet officers refused to
accept the incorrectly addressed French communications and
always returned them to their sender.7

Not all the early thinking and acting of the Bolsheviks dis-
played this somewhat Utopian equalitarianism even at this date.
Bukharin, for one, faced the problem of status differential squarely
and recognized the need for a division of labor in society between
those who make decisions and those who carry them out. In the
course of a general analysis of the economic problems involved
in the transition to a workers' state, he observed:

Here before all the entire sum of the newly arising production
relationships must receive theoretical consideration. For there arises
here a question of basic significance: how is an entirely different com-
bination of persons and elements of production possible, if the logic of
the production process itself brings forth relationships of a specific
type? An engineer or a technician must of course give orders to the
workers, and must therefore stand over them. In exactly the same
way must the former officer in the Red Army stand over the common
soldier. Here as there an inner, purely technical, objective logic is
involved, which must remain in any given social order. How should
this dilemma be solved? 8

Bukharin's attempted solution to this dilemma followed
Lenin's general line of reasoning, which provided the rationale
for numerous subsequent attempts to "solve" the problem of
bureaucracy in the Soviet state. Bukharin argued that the tech-
nical intelligentsia and others who performed the social function
of administration and control in capitalist society would continue
to hold the same relative position in the new society. On the
other hand, they would no longer be engaged in extracting sur-
plus value from the workers. Instead, they would be engaged in
extracting a "surplus product," that is, in aiding the new society
to accumulate capital, replace worn-out equipment, and build
new equipment. Bukharin did not go into the question of whether

162 The Dilemma of Authority

the rank-and-file workers would gain any material and psycho-
logical satisfactions from such a finespun distinction.

At the same time, his solution was not limited to the transi-
tion from surplus value to surplus product, While the administra-
tor and technician would still retain a "middle position" in socialist
society, as he had in capitalist society, he would now be subordi-
nate to the proletariat instead of to the capitalists. The proletariat,
organized in the Communist Party, the Soviets, trade unions, and
other economic and political forms, would under the new situa-
tion give orders to the administrators.9 Furthermore, in the course
of time the psychological viewpoint of the technician engineer
and administrator would change because of the change from a
capitalist to a socialist milieu in which these individuals func-
tioned. Finally, the technical intelligentsia would lose its caste-
like character insofar as new individuals rose into this group
from the ranks of the proletariat.10 At a later date all of these
arguments formed part of the stock-in-trade of the Communist
leadership and were used to justify inequalities in power and
prestige that emerged with the development of the Soviet system.

Lenin himself was quick to realize the problem created by
the absence of skills and immediately ceased to talk about the
operation of the state as something any literate file clerk could
perform. Instead, in his report to the Eighth Congress of the
Party (1919), he spoke of how the "incredible burden of admin-
istering the country" had fallen on such an insignificant number
of individuals. The number was so small, he added, because
there were so few educated, and capable, political leaders in
Russia.11 The more plausible portions of the old idea were re-
tained. Russia's administrative difficulties were blamed by Lenin
and the Party on her general cultural backwardness, with the
implication that these difficulties would disappear when the in-
ternational revolution came to Russia's aid from the civilized
countries of Western Europe, or when Russia overcame them
through her own efforts. Without doubt Lenin and his followers
were at least partly correct in their emphasis on the low level
of education in a peasant country as a major source of their dif-
ficulties.

Mythology of Status 163

Though the Communist Party could not at first provide admin-
istrative skills, it could provide what was more important— men
of proven political reliability. Thus the Bolsheviks soon came to
fill the key posts in political and economic affairs. By the time
of the New Economic Policy, however, the top Party leadership
had realized that good revolutionaries do not necessarily make
good administrators. In his report to the Eleventh Party Con-
gress in 1922, the last one he attended, Lenin concluded with
his usual candor, "We must not be afraid to admit, that in ninety-
nine cases out of a hundred the responsible Communists are not
in the jobs they are now fit for, that they are unable to perform
their duties, and that they must sit down to learn them." 12 The
reason was, according to Lenin, that responsible Communists
who had acquitted themselves splendidly during the Revolution
had been put to commercial and industrial work about which
they knew nothing, while "rogues and swindlers hide behind
their backs." 1S

In the absence of an adequate skill group, the old Tsarist
bureaucracy managed to hang on to a surprising extent. A valu-
able Soviet account published in 1932 reveals that in some sec-
tions of the bureaucracy as high as 50 per cent of the personnel
were former Tsarist officials.14 Instances were likewise uncovered
about this time of the patterning of Soviet administrative decrees
on Tsarist models.15 This situation prevailed in spite of fairly
intensive efforts to replace the old Tsarist bureaucracy with
workers and peasants and to build up a new Soviet intelligentsia,
efforts that before the Stalinist regime evidently enjoyed only
limited success in limited fields, despite earlier claims to the
contrary.16 In addition, the Bolsheviks in the beginning drew fairly
heavily for scientific and technical skills on the prerevolutionary
intelligentsia, though important elements in the Party were
strongly opposed to pampering the specialists or spets, as they
were usually called. Lenin was frequently forced to intervene
on their behalf. Probaby one reason that made it possible to use
these individuals was that a considerable section of the intelli-
gentsia had been opposed to the old regime and was aware of
its inefficiencies.

164 The Dilemma of Authority

Figures on the total size of the Soviet bureaucracy prior to
the Stalinist regime are not easy to find. In 1925 Molotov re-
vealed in his report to the Fourteenth Party Congress that there
had been a 10 per cent increase in the government personnel,
which then numbered 1,850,000 persons.17 In 1926, according to
the Large Soviet Encyclopedia, the bureaucracy of the entire
soviet apparatus included 2,500,000 people.18 For a regime which
had come to power on the program of destroying bureaucracy,
and which continued to give lip service to this idea into the
early 1930*8, this was a sizable figure.

Decision-making: inequalities of power

Under the conditions of the Civil War various conceptions of
democratic management of industry, of which workers' control
had been merely an extreme manifestation, had to give way in
practice to a bureaucratic management, exercised through spe-
cial officials. Returning the factories to their owners was, of
course, out of the question for political and military reasons; 19
nevertheless, about one fifth of them, particularly those con-
cerned with war industries, continued during the first months of
the new regime to work under their old ownership and manage-
ment.20

By about 1919 the prevailing practice in management con-
sisted of collegiums or boards composed of two-thirds workers
and one-third engineers or technicians approved by the trade
union.21 Even this diffusion of responsibility led to enormous dif-
ficulties. According to Soviet authors, during the period of War
Communism the transition from a system of broad representa-
tive collegiums to a system of small workers* collectives or even
individual responsibility and one-man management made con-
siderable headway.22 By 1920, 85 per cent of the enterprises in
the new regime were controlled by individual managers,28 though
the powers of these managers were still weak and subject to
marked interference by other organs representing the interests of
the workers or the state.

During 1920 there was considerable discussion in high Party
circles concerning the problems of democratic management. The

Mythology of Status 165

trade-union leader, M. Tomsky, and members of the Workers'
Opposition defended collegial management as the only method
capable of achieving broad mass participation in the manage-
ment of industry. They asserted that one-man management was
not up to handling the complex problems of the day.24 Other
arguments adduced in support of collegial management asserted
that it provided the only way through which the proletariat could
learn to take over real control of the country.

Lenin repudiated these views in blunt language. He told the
Ninth Party Congress in the spring of 1920, "You cannot escape
... by declaring that corporate management is a school of gov-
ernment . . . You cannot stay forever in the preparatory class
of a school. That will not do. We are now grown up, and we
shall be beaten and beaten again in every field, if we behave
like school children." 25

The sharpness of this repudiation is striking. Quite frequently
Communist ideals that could not be achieved at the time were
put into cold storage to be realized at some distant and unde-
fined future. An example of this type is the "withering away of
the state." But in the case of the specific institutional form of
collegial management, Lenin refused to regard it even as a goal.
Instead, he spoke of it as something embryonic, essential only
in the first stage of construction when it was necessary to build
anew. But in the transition to practical work, one-man manage-
ment, he asserted, made the best use of human skills.26

The Congress did not go as far as Lenin in the repudiation of
the collegial principle. It adopted instead a compromise resolu-
tion, declaring that although the collegial principle had a place
in the process of reaching decisions, it should without question
give place to individual responsibility in the execution of deci-
sions.27

The conflict between collectivist and individual conceptions
continued for many years afterward. The official line swung back
and forth between two extremes. In general, the collegial prin-
ciple was more widely retained in the upper branches of the
government, where matters of policy were considered, while
the principle of individual responsibility was increasingly applied

166 The Dilemma of Authority

at the level of factory management, where the situation involved
more the execution than the formulation of policy.28

Both the conceptions and the practice of democratic admin-
istration were further modified through the gradual elimination
of the influence of the trade unions in matters directly associated
with the management of the economy. The initiative in this move-
ment came from the top ranks of the trade-union bureaucracy,
which was closely connected with the Party. In the spring of
1920 Tomsky declared that the trade unions should not interfere
directly in the problems of management. It was sufficient, he
stated, that the unions were represented in the economic organs
of the state and participated in the problems of management
through these organs.29 This move may well have been an effort
on the part of the trade-union leaders to strengthen their posi-
tion vis-£-vis their followers. The Ninth Congress of the Party
in the same year gave the coup de grd.ce to the doctrines and
institutions of workers* control by declaring that the factory
committees should not interfere in management.30 The blow was
partly softened by the Party declaration that the unions should
concentrate on the task of preparing officer cadres for industry
from among the workers by means of professional and techni-
cal education.31

Two years later the Eleventh Party Congress repeated this
formula in even stronger terms, declaring that any immediate
interference of the unions in the management of the factory must
be considered without qualification harmful and impermissible.82
Early in the same year (1922), the Trade Unions Congress de-
clared that the unions must give up the principle of equal rights
in the naming of industrial managers and other officials concerned
with economic administration. In this fashion most of the power
over the selection of industrial leadership, as well as over the
latter's day-to-day decisions, was taken away from the unions
and turned over to the organs of economic administration. For
the remainder of the NEP period the Communists kept to this
arrangement.8*

One aspect of the pattern of collective decision-making, which
gave the unions a certain limited power in the administration of

Mythology of Status 167

the factory, remained in force until well into the thirties. This
was the so-called "triangle," composed of the plant manager, the
trade-union organization or workers' plant committee, and the
Party cell within the plant. A struggle for power among these
three elements took place all during the twenties. According to
Soviet sources, the plant management frequently censored the
wall newspaper of the workers, the Party cell tried to decide
questions of a purely business nature, and the trade-union group
would do the same thing, forgetting all about its tasks as a union
organization.84

In September of 1929 a Party decree attempted to set up a
system of one-man management in the factory, which, though
neither the first nor the last decision of its kind, may be regarded
as official recognition that the triangle arrangement was unsatis-
factory. Subsequently complaints continued to the effect that au-
thority and responsibility were still divided. It was not until 1937
that a top Party officer, Zhdanov, could declare that the triangle
had no more justification for existing.35

During the NEP there was a definite conflict between the
requirements of efficiency, or what Bukharin had called the logic
of the production process, and the goals of the Communist Party.
Preobrazhensky put his finger on the difficulty, pointing out that
under the NEP, in which government and private industry com-
peted to a considerable extent, the socialist managers who were
able to operate their plants with the greatest possible profit might
not be the ones who were doing the Party and the working class
the most good on a long-run basis.86 Since labor conditions were
frequently better in the privately owned and managed plants than
in those operated by the regime, the situation contained a threat
to the Party's leadership of the industrial workers.

In addition, certain circles in business administration began
to express ideas similar to the conservative American view of
"more business in government and less government in business."
These groups gathered around Krassin, an old Bolshevik with
considerable business experience from prerevolutionary times.
Though Krassin denied some of the ideas attributed to him, he
stressed the need for good Party administrators, organizers, and

168 The Dilemma of Authority

managers in the course of sharp debates on this question at the
Twelfth Party Congress.37 About thiis time he is said to have com-
plained that the top Party leaders were the same as they had
been two decades previously, "newspaper dilettantes and litte-
rateurs/' who interfered in the choice of business personnel with-
out knowing anything about the subject.88

Not all the directors sought power, of course. Some found it
more advantageous to avoid responsibility, taking advantage of
the triangle or other similar institutions, in the hope of escaping
direct accountability for decisions that might involve disastrous
personal consequences.89 Nevertheless, the problem continued to
cause difficulties down to the beginning of the Five Year Plans.
As late as 1929 one of the Party leaders brought up at a Party
Conference the case of a prominent trust director with a good
reputation for efficiency who complained of "too much control—
the Workers' and Peasants* Inspection and the unions get in the
way."40

Until the complete change of policy involved in the rapid
industrialization and extension of Party control under the Five
Year Plans, there was very little the Party could do about this sit-
uation. On the whole, it endeavored to solve the dilemma during
the NEP by strengthening the power of the managers and back-
ing them up with the weapon of high-policy declarations. In de-
fining the duties and functions of the director, the Party declared
that his main job was to increase the productivity of labor, lower
the cost of production, and increase the quantity of material
goods available for the workers" government.41 In 1924 the Party
declared that the local Party leaders must give the managers full
support and must not permit them to be disturbed by minor
distractions.42 Furthermore, the Party during this time gradually
managed to create its own managerial group. Some interesting
figures on this point were presented by Kaganovich at the Six-
teenth Party Congress in 1930,48 He reported, on the basis of a
sample of about 1300 factory directors, that 29 per cent of the di-
rectors were Party members in 1923, 48 per cent in 1924, and 93
per cent in 1929. In this way the factory directors obtained status
not only as administrators, but also as Party members. From 1929

Mythology of Status 169

onward the state extended its control over all sectors of the econ-
omy, eliminating the problem of competition with private indus-
try. By these devices many of the difficulties produced by the
objective necessity for status differentials and the goals of Com-
munist policy were solved.

Role of the equalitarian myth in the execution of decisions

It is a commonplace observation that making policy is much
easier than executing it. Most organized human groupings, and
particularly such large ones as the modern state, have had to
evolve methods for coping with this problem. They have devel-
oped a wide variety of formal and informal techniques for seeing
to it that the decisions made by those in authority are at least
partly carried out by those subject to authority.

In a socialist society these difficulties tend to be more severe
than they do in a free-enterprise system. Under a capitalist regime
the decisions about what goods should be produced, and how
labor, plant, and raw materials should be efficiently combined
to produce them, are largely left, to the individual producer, who
guides himself by the indexes of cost and selling price. On the
other hand, a socialist economy must control deliberately and
consciously this range of decisions, instead of leaving them to the
free play of market forces. In the latter situation the checks of
consumer resistance and the spurs of consumer demand play a
much less significant role.

As an excellent English economic historian of the Soviet re-
gime has pointed out, the Soviet administrative problem was
enormously magnified from the very beginning by the disap-
pearance of market price as an indicator of what to produce,
and in what quantities. For a time military needs took the place
of market price. Certain war industries were selected for shock
treatment while other subordinate plants were neglected. When
the Civil War ended, and military needs no longer were the major
criterion for production and consumption, the system broke down.
It had to be replaced by the semi-market economy of the NEP.44

Furthermore, a state dominated by a single political party
lacks many of the devices for checking up on the execution of

170 The Dilemma of Authority

decisions that are found in states with competing political par-
ties. In a state with the latter type of political organization, the
party that is temporarily in power can be sure that its opponents
will be on the lookout for any signs of incompetence in the exe-
cution of policy.

The preceding observations do not imply that a socialist or a
one-party state is necessarily less efficient in the utilization of
human and material resources than a multi-party and capitalist
state. Too, the proposition is yet to be proved that a socialist
state is necessarily a totalitarian state, even though definite pres-
sures in this direction must be recognized. The point to be made
is that for a number of reasons the Soviet regime faced an extraor-
dinarily difficult problem in developing adequate techniques for
verifying the execution of policy decisions. As one illustration
among many of the scope of the problem, an administrative
house cleaning in the Gosplan in March 1931 uncovered 190
unfulfilled orders issued by the government, some of which were
almost three years old.45 These problems were not only the prod-
uct of the new social system the Soviets were endeavoring to
establish. They were also the product of history and the cultural
traditions of Russia, which did not include the precise and punc-
tual execution of bureaucratic orders.

On the whole, the problem of execution has been met by set-
ting one part of the bureaucracy to watch another part. Quite a
number of different organizations have been established at vari-
ous times for this specific purpose. For a while this was the chief
purported function of the Workers* and Peasants' Inspection. The
Party Control Commissions, and particularly the Central Con-
trol Commission, described in Chapter 6, fulfilled a number of
functions of checking up on the execution of decisions. After
1930 these mechanisms were overhauled and extended with re-
sults that will be considered later.46

Perhaps the most important role in the task of verifying the
execution of major policy decisions has fallen to the secret police.
Despite the lack of quantitative data, Simon Liberman's mem-
oirs*7 and other sources show that the secret police expanded
rapidly into the economic field in the search for sabotage. The

Mythology of Status 171

distinctions among deliberate sabotage, administrative incompe-
tence, and reaction to hostile local pressures are difficult enough
to draw in any case, and it was not to be expected that the secret
police would be overly meticulous in drawing them.

Under such pressures administrative errors tended to become
not only criminal offenses but also, under the watchful eye of the
Party, to partake of the nature of counterrevolutionary sin. The
resulting stifling of initiative and high degree of insecurity on the
part of administrative officials have been dramatized in a number
of accounts by individuals who have turned against the regime and
fled. The extent to which this factor has affected efficiency can-
not be measured, though it is unquestionably important.

Partly because the major way of verifying administrative per-
formance lay in the creation of competing bureaucratic elements,
the Soviet bureaucracy prior to the Stalinist regime did not de-
velop into a homogeneous unit. There were a number of intense
struggles between various sections of the bureaucracy, some of
which were conducted mainly behind the scenes. At various times
the Red Army showed signs of restiveness and tended to become
an independent sector of the bureaucracy, despite the efforts of
the Party to keep it under control. Likewise, many of the in-
ternecine Party struggles were reflected in the Army.48 Between
1928 and 1930 the trade-union leadership opposed Stalin's policies
associated with rapid industrialization. Stalin was compelled to
turn nearly all the top leaders out of office and replace them with
his own supporters. The Party itself during this period was not a
homogeneous group and was rent by serious divergencies over
matters of major policy prior to Stalin's accession to power.

Soon after the establishment of the Bolshevik regime, various
sections of the bureaucracy had begun to create defenses against
the attacks on it that derived from competition among elements
in the administrative structure and from the specifically Soviet
situation under which administrative errors became counterrevo-
lutionary sins. In Trotsky's complaints of 1922 one learns about
the growth of bureaucracy in the Party and state institutions, the
combination of the two apparatus, and the practice of mutual
shielding among the influential groups around the Party secre-

172 The Dilemma of Authority

taries.49 Widespread bribery, of which Lenin complained in 1921,50
was also a device by which the clash between unpopular policies
and popular opposition was softened and mitigated. In other
cultures bribery and political corruption frequently arise to soften
the conflicts between two or more irreconcilable groups or sets of
social demands— witness the prohibition era in the United States.
The continuity of all these problems is revealed by the complaints
of a high Party official in 1929 concerning the lack of individual
responsibility and the practice of mutual shielding of all adminis-
trative workers, with the result that every paper was counter-
signed by so many people it was impossible to trace who was
responsible for any decision. Furthermore, the strong opposition
of the villages to the socialist offensive of collectivization resulted
in numerous instances, he stated, of agreements between Party
and state officials with "representatives of the class enemy/' In
many cases under this pressure, the same source reports, im-
portant local leaders had joined forces with the class enemy.51

To increase the participation of the masses in the work of
administration was almost the only way that occurred to the
Bolsheviks in their attempts to cure these and other "distortions"
of the bureaucratic apparatus. It is worth noting at this point the
divergence between what the leaders thought they were doing
in their efforts to increase mass participation and the actual re-
sults, As has been seen, the "real" way in which the problem of
bureaucracy was met was in large part the setting of one section
of the bureaucracy to watch another section, a divide-and-rule
policy. There does not seem to be any overt recognition by the
Bolshevik leaders prior to 1932 that this was their actual policy.

The emphasis on mass participation is well illustrated by the
article on bureaucracy in the Large Soviet Encyclopedia. The
author asserts that the Soviet system of government, based on
attracting the toilers into the work of the government, eliminates
the possibility of the development of bureaucracy in the form
created by every bourgeois government But, the writer continues,
the danger of bureaucratic distortion was remarked at the very
beginning of the organization of the Soviet government. There
follows, in a quarter column of fine print, a list of the various

Mythology of Static 173

Party decrees and other official actions related to the attempt to
increase mass participation in government and to eliminate
bureaucracy.52

Lenin strongly advocated in 1920 that all workers— men, and
particularly women— should participate in the Workers' and Peas-
ants' Inspection in rotation, and that even illiterate peasants
should do what they could.53 A few years later Trotsky began in
earnest his diatribes against the bureaucratic degeneration of the
workers' state, a theme that he emphasized from that time on-
ward. But even Trotsky's cure repeated the same formula of in-
creased participation of the workers, of the youth, and so forth.54
Again in 1928 the Party declared that the working class runs into
the "worst bureaucratization of its government apparatus," re-
ferring to its size, indirectness, and red tape. These difficulties
were attributed to the heritage of the past, "the absence of culture
among the masses, their inadequate ability to rule, and the in-
adequately rapid bringing of the masses into the task of managing
the government and the government economy."55 Similarly, at
the Sixteenth Party Conference in 1929, one of the Party officers,
in a long speech devoted to the problems of Soviet bureaucracy,
declared that the struggle against bureaucracy could only suc-
ceed if the masses were "raised up against it." 56

In their efforts to increase mass participation, the Bolsheviks
hit upon several devices. For instance, the visits of a collegium
of a commissariat to a factory to listen to the complaints and
criticisms of the workers is described in a Soviet study as one of
the most deep-rooted ways of attracting the masses into the act
of governing.57 Another method, which evidently sprang up in the
early thirties and then was permitted to die a natural death, was
called "patronage" (sheftsvo), usually the patronage of a specific
factory or of a specific group of workers over some section of the
administration. Similar forms of patronage were occasionally ap-
plied to rural areas. The workers were charged with overseeing
the operations of a portion of the bureaucracy and pledged them-
selves to increase efficiency and eliminate red tape.68 This form of
control, however, evidently showed a tendency to develop into
mere festive occasions at which formal patronage agreements or

174 The Dilemma of Authority

contracts were signed but which did not bring real results. In
addition, the bureaucracy tended to protect itself by turning the
arrangement into one of mutual verification and control, a de-
velopment strongly condemned by the Party.59

In all of these efforts to increase the importance of the masses
and to bring about some form of control from below, certain
practical results of the Leninist ideal may be observed. By
creating an atmosphere aptly termed an "open season on bureau-
crats/' the Party managed to deflect against the bureaucrats a
great deal of mass hostility that might otherwise have been
directed against the policies of the Party. At the same time, this
procedure helped to prevent the consolidation of any section of
the bureaucracy into a self-contained group that might form the
basis of organized opposition to the top Party leadership. In this
way the equalitarian traditions of revolutionary Marxism were of
use in consolidating the hegemony of the Party leaders. A similar
phenomenon has already been pointed out in connection with the
Soviets, where the conceptions of democratic control from below
were used to eliminate from the Soviets the various groups that
sympathized at one time or another with opposition elements in
the Communist Party.

Together with the force of tradition, the political advantages
of the conception of mass participation in the work of the bureauc-
racy may help to explain why these views were so rarely chal-
lenged. In a wide though by no means complete survey of Soviet
writings on bureaucracy, I have found only very few occasions on
which this view was questioned. In 1920 Lenin, in one of his fits
of impatience with the Party intellectuals, remarked acridly that
there was too much theorizing on the idea of insuring "the par-
ticipation of the masses by a collegium of seven or three
people." G0 Again in 1928, in the course of one of the campaigns to
simplify the bureaucracy, one writer, a local judge, challenged
the entire Communist conception of bureaucracy. He pointed out
that cheap administration is not always the same as good. In
industry the work of a well-trained specialist is paid at a higher
rate than that of a rank-and-file beginner. Therefore, the writer
continued, it is not desirable for the state to replace qualified

Mythology of Status 175

specialists with any worker that comes along. Bureaucracy, he
observed, must be adapted in the best possible way to the func-
tion it is expected to perform. The simplest way may not neces-
sarily be the best. The best cream separator, he remarked
sarcastically, is not necessarily the simplest one-after all, one
can separate cream from milk with a fork— but the best is one
that gives the largest amount of cream in the cleanest and most
efficient fashion.61

In addition to stressing the importance of mass participation
as a cure for the evils of bureaucracy, the official ideology con-
tinued to emphasize the elimination of status differentials as a
goal of Soviet bureaucracy. Kalinin in 1928 repeated the slogan
attributed to Lenin that every cook should be able to run the
government. For this purpose the process of governing must be
greatly simplified, and the cultural level of the masses raised.62
In 1930 a Party resolution on the patronage of factories over the
soviet apparatus described this movement as a step in the direc-
tion of Lenin's goal of the execution of government functions by
the workers without pay.63 Again, in 1932, the fulfillment of
Lenin's will concerning the unpaid performance of government
duties was described by prominent Soviet writers as having been
raised to a "new and higher level." They also declared that the
struggle for this goal remained an important task in the Second
Five Year Plan.64

On a few occasions the need for status differentials broke
through the official ideology and received overt recognition from
the Party leaders. Although these differentials emerged rapidly
in practice, the official view was rarely challenged. Lenin's de-
fense of the bourgeois specialists was regarded as a purely tem-
porary measure until the workers could take care of matters
themselves. In 1923, however, Lenin did suggest that the core of
the Workers* and Peasants* Inspection should be a group of
"highly skilled, specially tested, specially reliable, and highly
paid" employees.65 In the same year Stalin confessed that pre-
revolutionary notions about the creation of a commune or associa-
tion of workers without a bureaucracy was an ideal that would
have to be postponed until a high level of culture in Russia and

176 The Dilemma of Authority

absolute peace in the world at large prevailed. In the meantime,
he concluded, "Our government apparatus is bureaucratic, and
will be bureaucratic for a long time." 66 Occasional comments of
the type just quoted reflect the pressure of political realities and
the objective need for a system of status and authority. At first
glance it is surprising that these comments are so few, and that
die equalitarian views of Leninism in regard to bureaucracy and
the administrative process maintained themselves into the thirties
with relatively little change. The continuation of these doctrines
can, however, be explained by the services they performed in
strengthening the position of the top leaders of the regime.

The doctrine of no class struggle

The absence in prerevolutionary Marxist-Leninist tradition of
any conception that there could be a conflict of interest be-
tween management and the labor force in a workers' state played
an important role in the development of both the theory and
practice of post-revolutionary status relationships.

While even the most theoretically inclined Bolsheviks were
quick to realize the need for "proletarian labor discipline" after
the November Revolution,67 they did not draw the implication
that discipline reflects some form of conflict of interests between
the discipliners and the disciplined.

In the beginning Lenin attributed the inescapably visible con-
flicts of interest to the chaotic conditions of the day, regarding
them as remnants of a psychological attitude that had been built
up in the workers under capitalism. In this analysis he was no
doubt at least partly correct. Within a few weeks of the seizure
of power, he pointed out that the Party would have to fight the
old notions of the workers, "the habit of shirking burdens, of
trying to get as much as possible out of the bourgeoisie" that
were being carried over into the new situation. The newcomers
who entered into factory life during the war, he complained, were
especially bad in this respect: they "want to treat the people's
factory, the factory that has come into the possession of the
people, in the old way, with the sole end in view of taking' as
much as possible and clearing out." M Again, in 1919, he was sus-

Mythology of Status 177

picious of the proposal that the functions of the government and
the trade unions should be merged, on the same grounds as those
just mentioned. If the unions took over the functions of govern-
ment, he observed, a mess would result. Too much of the old
"petty-bourgeois" tradition, "every man for himself and God alone
for everybody," remained in the psychology of the workers. The
trade unions, he added sharply, would think that God alone takes
care of the management69 A year later, at the Ninth Party Con-
gress, he complained that not everybody realized the change that
had taken place since the trade unions had passed from the old
stage, when they were organs of resistance to the oppressors of
labor, to the new stage, when the working class had become the
governing class.70

At an early date signs accumulated that the conflict of interests
between the industrial workers and the management, or the
Soviet government— the two were synonymous at the higher ad-
ministrative levels even then— was a very real one. At the Second
Congress of Trade Unions, held between January 16 and January
25, 1919, the Mensheviks introduced the following resolution:
"The Trade Unions cannot regard the Soviet power as represent-
ing the interests of the working class, as the embodiment of its
dictatorship, as the Soviet power bases itself on the repression
of the independence of the workers, on the use of force against
the expression of their will." Since the Congress was dominated
by the Bolsheviks (449 Bolsheviks out of 648 delegates), it is not
surprising that the Menshevik resolution received only thirty
votes.71 Since the Mensheviks, at least before the Revolution, had
a much wider base than the Bolsheviks among the Russian work-
ing class, it is probable that this resolution reflects a fairly wide-
spread discontent in the Russian working class with the new
conditions. Within the Bolshevik ranks themselves this discontent
appeared in the Left* Wing Opposition of 1918 and the Trade
Union and Workers' Opposition of 1920 and 1921, both of which
groups were easily defeated by the Party majority.

For the time being, the Bolsheviks' majority was content
merely to deny the existence of the problem, which according to
Marxist-Leninist ideology ought not to exist. In other words, their

178 The Dilemma of Authority

traditions tended to screen out of their consciousness any aware-
ness of the problem. At the Ninth Congress of the Party in March
and April of 1920, the Party declared: "As it is the dictatorship
of the proletariat, the Soviet government is the lever for the trans-
formation of the economy. Therefore there cannot be any ques-
tion of a conflict of interests between the organs of the trade
unions and the organs of Soviet power." 72

During the period of War Communism a similar line of
thought was elaborated by Trotsky to justify the military disci-
pline applied to the industrial workers. To the Third Congress of
Trade Unions he announced, on April 9, 1920, that the unions did
not have the task of fighting against the government in the inter-
ests of labor. Instead, they ought to cooperate with the govern-
ment in the task of constructing a socialist economy.73 He attacked
the Mensheviks for circulating the idea that compulsory labor was
inefficient. "If that is true, then the entire socialist economy is
destined to crash, for there can be no other road to socialism ex-
cept the compulsory distribution of the entire labor force of the
country by the central economic authority, which will distribute
this force according to the needs of an over-all government
economic plan." 74 This and other statements by Trotsky at this
point foreshadow clearly what took place in 1929 and 1930 when
industrialization and planning were begun in earnest. In 1920 he
argued that a military approach to the problem was essential. The
free movement of workers from job to job could not be permitted.
Instead, the militarization of labor was necessary, in which the
unions should help in allocating workers to their posts.76 To the
Menshevik accusation that this was Egyptian slavery, Trotsky
replied that the Egyptian peasants did not decide through their
Soviets to build the pyramids.76

Following the same line of thought in October 1920, he re-
fused to admit that the trade unions and the government could
have conflicting interests. He declared that it was meaningless
to talk about protecting the worker against the government in a
proletarian state. On the basis of his experiences with the army
and in the reorganization of the transport system, he demanded a
"shaking up of the unions" to wrench them away from their tradi-

Mythology of Status 179

tion of antagonism to the management, and the introduction of
quasi-military discipline, by merging the top levels of the unions
and the government.77 Trotsky's declaration set off a general dis-
cussion that was the prelude to the NEP.

For the time being Trotsky's views formed a high-water mark
in the development of the theory that there could be no conflict
of interests between the workers and those in authority. At a
later date Stalin and his followers were to return to this doctrine
for guidance and support in the reorganization of labor relations
that accompanied the Five Year Plans. These earlier views, in-
cluding Trotsky's, are now the official doctrine of the Soviet State
and are incorporated in legal texts on Soviet labor law.

At the time, however, Lenin came out with a sharp attack
against Trotsky's assertions. In an exchange of polemics with
both Trotsky and Bukharin, he denied that Russia had as yet
achieved a workers' state. He emphasized the transitional nature
of the regime and the overwhelming importance of the peasantry,
to whom he shortly afterward granted far-reaching concessions.
The present Soviet state, he remarked, was a workers' and peas-
ants' state, with bureaucratic distortions. Under such conditions,
he said, "we must utilise these workers' organisations for the
purpose of protecting the workers from their own state and
in order that the workers may protect our state." 78 In this same
speech he developed the famous theory of the trade unions as
"transmission belts" for passing along to the backward Russian
masses, including the more backward (from the Bolshevik point
of view) sections of the working class, the ideology of its more
advanced sections, particularly the Communist Party. In this
fashion he hoped to overcome gradually the older exploitative
attitudes of the workers and to teach them that their welfare de-
pended upon increased production. In addition, he expected to
show them that it was in their own interest to protect the Soviet
state. While Lenin did not go so far as to advocate a plural state
composed of competing interest groups— in fact, he hinted at the
eventual disappearance of the trade unions in the distant future-
he recognized directly both the conflict and identity of interests
between the workers and those in authority.79

180 The Dilemma of Authority

Although the Tenth Party Congress of 1921, immediately fol-
lowing the discussion on trade-union matters, adopted a long
resolution on the trade-union question which followed out the
lines of thinking adopted by Lenin, the Party was apparently not
yet quite ready for a programmatic recognition of the conflict
of interests so clearly perceived by Lenin. Such a recognition was
achieved only a year later at the Eleventh Party Congress in
March 1922. On this occasion the Party announced that under
the new conditions of freedom of trade, inaugurated by the NEP,
together with the increased requirements for a higher pro-
ductivity of labor, there had arisen a "definite conflict of interests
on questions concerning the conditions of labor in the factory
between the toiling masses and the directors in charge of govern-
ment establishments." 80

The recognition of a conflict of interests between workers and
management implies an equal recognition of the right of the
workers to defend their interests by appropriate means, such as
the strike. During the NEP this was a very difficult point for
the Communists, who were unwilling either to prohibit strikes
or to recognize them. To prohibit them probably would have
been a severe psychological blow to the Party's chief supporters,
who had, in NEP days, enough other reasons to ask, "Is this what
we made a revolution for?" The possibility of an outright pro-
hibition received some consideration at the highest level in the
Party. In the course of the trade-union discussion preceding the
Eleventh Party Congress of 1922, Miliutin, a member of the Party
Central Committee, asked for and suggested to Lenin a cate-
gorical prohibition on strikes in government industries. His pro-
posal was not upheld either by the preparatory commission of
the Congress or by the Congress itself.81

Lenin tried to tread a thin line between opposing pressures
on this question. Under capitalism, he said in 1922, the object
of a strike is the overthrow of the government in power. Under
the workers' government, on the other hand, the task of the trade
union must be the reconciliation of conflicts with a maximum of
advantages for the workers.82

The Eleventh Party Congress adopted an equally evasive

Mythology of Status 181

formula. According to its pronouncement, the resort to a strike in
a state with a proletarian government in power could be justified
only on the grounds of the "bureaucratic distortions" of the prole-
tarian government on the one side and lack of political develop-
ment and cultural backwardness of the toiling masses on the
other.83

With the onset of large-scale industrialization in 1929 and 1930,
the limited beginnings in the direction of a pluralistic society
were brought to an abrupt halt. The workers were called upon to
make tremendous sacrifices in this campaign, and were com-
pelled by the Party to give up nearly all the independent repre-
sentation of their interests that they had achieved to date through
the trade unions. In return, the Party promised an improvement
in their living conditions. Before the Sixteenth Congress of the
Party (June 1930), almost the entire leadership of the Ail-
Union Council of Trade Unions was removed and replaced by
men willing to support Stalin's program of greatly increased
labor productivity. There was practically no pretense that such
an action by the Party Central Committee was in accord with
Soviet conceptions of democracy. Kaganovich dismissed such
objections bluntly, declaring, "One might say that this [action]
is a violation of proletarian democracy, but, comrades, it has
long been known that for us Bolsheviks democracy is not a fetish;
for us, proletarian democracy is a means for arming the working
class for the better execution of its socialist tasks." 8* This "shak-
ing up" changed not only the leadership of the AU-Union Coun-
cil of Trade Unions, but also the central committees of the vari-
ous constituent unions. In some cases, still lower officers were
removed from their posts.85

The old trade-union leadership, which had been acting more
or less in accord with Lenin's precepts of protecting the workers
against their own state, was now accused of following the "Men-
shevik" line of setting the interests of the workers against the
interests of the dictatorship of the proletariat.8* Lenin's recog-
nition of the conflict of interests could no longer be permitted
under the conditions of a campaign for the construction of so-
cialism. Instead, the Party returned to the older formula, elabo-

182 The Dilemma of Authority

rated in the twenties by Trotsky, that a conflict of interests was
out of the question because of the logic of the situation. "Since
the workers do not work for the capitalists, but for their own
government, their own class," the Sixteenth Party Congress de-
clared, it is therefore to their own advantage to promote the
most rapid development of Soviet industry. The Party defined
the task of the unions as one of indoctrinating the "broad masses"
of the workers with this viewpoint87 In 1919 Bukharin had used
almost the same words: "The workers do not work now for the
capitalist, nor for the money-lender, nor for the banker, but for
their own selves. They are doing their own work; they are build-
ing the building that belongs to the toilers." 88

In the attempt to resolve the conflict of interests between
the workers and the bureaucracy, Soviet official ideology under-
went two major changes. One was the return in the late twenties
and early thirties to the doctrines that were promulgated dur-
ing the period of War Communism. While this return was a
widespread, though not universal, feature of the times, it is most
striking in respect to the doctrine of no class struggle. When
faced with a crisis situation, the regime went back to a familiar
symbolism. Freudian notions of "regression" need not be called
upon to explain this phenomenon, since the political and eco-
nomic problems faced during War Communism and the years
of the Stalinist Revolution were similar in a number of essential
respects. In the second place, one may take note of the utiliza-
tion of the more "idealistic" aspects of the Marxist-Leninist tradi-
tion, that is, the doctrine that the workers were the masters of
their own fate, to support a highly authoritarian regime.

The repudiation of equality

The prerevolutionary Bolshevik attitude toward inequalities
of wealth was an ambivalent and uncertain one. Like Marx be-
fore him, Lenin felt that certain inequalities might remain in
the early stages as socialism emerged with violent birth pangs
from the womb of capitalism. But he had not hesitated to affirm
the eventual goal of equality. In general, the feeling was strong
among the early Bolsheviks in both prerevolutionary and post-

Mythology of Status 183

revolutionary days that inequality was somehow wrong and im-
moral, a temporary evil that would only have to be endured for
a time. There was no realization that inequalities might be a
permanent social necessity as part of a system of incentives to
labor.

The idealistic equalitarian point of view remained strong
during the period of War Communism. The first program of the
Bolsheviks following the November Revolution, adopted at the
Eighth Party Congress in March 1919, proclaimed that among
the outstanding tasks of the moment was the ideological and edu-
cational work required "to destroy completely all traces of previ-
ous inequality or prejudices, especially among the backward
strata of the proletariat and the peasantry." 89 In accordance with
Lenin's and Manfs earlier writings, the authors of the program
acknowledged that equality could not be brought about at once,
but chose this propitious moment to reaffirm the goal: "While
aspiring to equality of remuneration for all kinds of labor and
to total Communism, the Soviet government cannot consider as
its immediate task the realization of this equality at the present
moment, when only the first steps are being made towards the
transition from capitalism to Communism." 90

During the period of War Communism both doctrinal con-
siderations and the necessities of wartime siege favored equality
in the distribution of goods and incomes, even though it was an
equality perilously close to the zero point. Inequalities remained
in the payment of the spets or vital technical personnel, in-
equalities that many Party leaders regarded as purely temporary
concessions. In addition, there was a rough system of priorities in
the distribution of consumers' goods to the workers in different
industries, as well as to different plants within an industry. But
by 1920 rationed goods and services distributed free of charge,
which constituted almost the sole income of the wage earner,
were distributed equally among the workers of any one enter-
prise. The use of apartments was free, as were theater and
tramway tickets.01

Not until the spring of 1920 did it apparently occur to the
Communist leaders that equality might result in a loss of pro-

184 The Dilemma of Authority

duction, when production was vital to the survival of the regime.
At this time Tomsky, the trade-union leader, declared that the
payment of labor ought to depend immediately upon the results
of labor.92 At this time also the Ninth Party Congress went
far enough to declare that an incentive system of payments ought
to be one of the most powerful means for awakening competition,
and even announced that a good worker should be better sup-
plied with the necessities of life than a negligent worker.93 This
line of thinking received a marked impetus with the transition
to the NEP and the general overhauling of economic incen-
tives in March 1921. Lenin himself declared in October of the
same year that "every important branch of national economy
must be built up on the principle of personal incentive." 9*

By the end of the NEP underlying economic factors, together
with the Communist retreat from their equalitarian position, had
produced a situation in which variations in wage payments did
not differ very markedly from corresponding differentials in capi-
talist countries at a similar stage of economic development. On
the basis of careful and detailed study of variations in wage rates,
Abram Bergson has concluded that the "capitalist" principles of
supply and demand were the fundamental factors determining
wage differentials in the Soviet Union during this period. In
others words, these differentials depended primarily upon the
productivity of different workers.95 In the month of March 1928
the earnings of workers varied from less than 30 rubles to more
than 250 rubles. Six per cent of the wage earners earned less
than 30.01 rubles; only 0.2 per cent earned more than 250 rubles.
However, the wages of 47.9 per cent of the earners varied be-
tween the rather narrow range of 40 to 80 rubles.96 Though the
variation or inequality of wages in the Soviet Union in 1928 was
less than had been the case in Russia in 1914, the differences were
slight.97

Wages are by themselves not a completely accurate index
of variations in real income, owing to the number of services
provided for the workers by government and civic organizations
for the improvement of material and cultural living standards.
In the Soviet Union these extra factors are important at all in-

Mythology of Status 185

come levels, because of the practice of giving responsible officials
houses, the use of automobiles for official purposes, and the like.
Furthermore, figures on wages do not cover more than a fraction
of the population. Therefore, figures on the distribution of sav-
ings, available for 1930, provide a welcome addition to those
on wages. Total savings in the hands of the banks in that year
amounted to 722 million rubles. They were allegedly distributed
in the following proportions:98

Workers 91

Clerical workers and members of the bureaucracy 205 million

Others (professional men, craftsmen, etc.) 134 million

Individual peasants 46 million

Collective farms and other "juristic persons" 246 million

Even though this information may arouse rather than satisfy
curiosity at many points, it is plain that the Soviet system had
by this time developed a system of organized social inequality
with marked similarities to that in capitalist societies.

In response to forces beyond their control, the equalitarian
idealists in the Party were compelled to compromise and ration-
alize at several points. For example, in 1929 the rule limiting
members of the Party to a maximum income was modified to
exclude from its limitations several of the major occupations in
which it was possible to earn more than the legally defined
maximum. It may also be significant that the maximum itself
was not indicated in this decree."

Nevertheless, the period of the twenties was not one of com-
plete retreat from the equalitarian position. Latent pressures
among the industrial workers helped to keep the tradition alive.
It showed some vitality in high Party circles down to the time
of Stalin's caustic repudiation in 1931.

Factory workers, particularly those ^at the lowest paid level,
were suffering in 1925 and afterward under the impact of mone-
tary inflation,100 which gave rise to demands for an upward level-
ing of wage rates. Likewise, there were objections among the
workers to the use of incentive differentials as a whip to increase
production. This was particularly strong among small groups of

186 The Dilemma of Authority

workers in continual face-to-face contact, who objected to what
they felt were injustices in differing rates of payment for fairly
similar tasks. The situation was exacerbated by the attempts of
the Left Opposition to capitalize on this discontent.101 On this
account the Party approved, in November 1926, a rise in wage
rates as the "first and an important step in the direction of eli-
minating the plainly abnormal differences in pay among various
categories of workers." 102 Similarly, at the Seventh Congress of
Trade Unions in December 1926, Tomsky spoke of the gap be-
tween the wages of skilled and unskilled labor, which supposedly
violated prevailing conceptions of "elementary class justice," a
tribute to the continuing equalitarian tradition. "In the future
we must reduce the gap in wages between qualified and ordinary
labor," he concluded. Actually, a widespread revision of wage
scales, which resulted in some diminution of inequalities, was
undertaken at that time under the supervision of the All-Union
Central Council of Trade Unions.103

These events may be regarded as the last flicker of the equali-
tarian tradition, at least in official circles— a final effort to achieve
equality of rewards for all. Not long after the drive for indus-
trialization, embodied in the First Five Year Plan, had gotten
under way, Stalin removed Tomsky from the leadership of the
trade unions and specifically repudiated his conception of "ele-
mentary class justice."

Speaking in 1931, Stalin pointed out that while the Plan
called for an over-all increase of industrial production of 31 to
32 per cent in 1930, the actual increase amounted to only 25
per cent.104 In the key industries of coal mining, iron, and steel,
the increase was only from 6 to 10 per cent.105 Obviously, the ob-
jectives of the Communist leadership were in serious danger.

A major line of attack lay in the overhauling of the wage sys-
tem, one of the central features of Stalin's policy. Commenting
on the heavy turnover in the labor force, Stalin said:

The cause is the wrong structure of wages, the wrong wage scales,
the "Leftist" practice of wage equalization. In a number of our fac-
tories wage scales are drawn up in such a way as to practically wipe
out the difference between skilled labour and unskilled labour, be-

Mythology of Status 187

tween heavy work and light work. The consequence of wage equal-
ization is that the unskilled worker lacks the incentive to become a
skilled worker and is thus deprived of the prospect of advancement;
as a result he feels himself a "sojourner" in the factory, working only
temporarily so as to earn a little and then go off to "seek his fortune"
elsewhere.106

These remarks were dinned into the consciousness of Soviet
citizens by every means of communication at the Party's disposal.
Stalin emphasized what Lenin had merely suggested—that in-
equality served a necessary social function in a socialist as well
as in a capitalist society. It is this point which constitutes a new
element in Russian Marxist ideology, and which serves as the
basis for the contemporary justification of organized social in-
equality.

The Stalinist slogan for the system of distribution under so-
cialism is: "From each according to his abilities, to each accord-
ing to his labor." Equality is stigmatized as "petty bourgeois/*
The goal remains that proclaimed by Marx: a higher (Com-
munist) form of society in which the slogan "From each ac-
cording to his abilities, to each according to his needs" will sup-
posedly prevail. Older Bolshevik theorists, perhaps not in accord
with the strictest logic, interpreted the latter to mean equality
of rewards for all.107 Such interpretations are now conspicuous
by their absence.

There is a significant contrast between the fate of early doc-
trines concerning equality of power and similar doctrines con-
cerning equality of rewards. In practice, inequalities developed
rapidly in both areas. On the basis of various prerevolutionary
features of Bolshevik ideology and behavior, that is, the theory
and practice of a conspiratorial elite, the stage was set to an
important extent for the development of inequalities of power.
At the same time, the concurrent stream of ideas to the effect
that the new regime would be sensitive to the needs of the masses,
that it would represent the highest expression of the will of the
toilers, and that the masses would soon be the masters of their
fate, was retained and in some respects even amplified to give
a further atmosphere of legitimacy, consensus, and mass support

188 The Dilemma of Authority

to the new regime. On the other hand, the conception of equality
of rewards was repudiated as incompatible with the major goal
of industrialization, or at best allowed to slip into forgetfulness
as a possible feature of an indefinite future. The difference be-
tween the fate of the two sets of ideas may perhaps be explained
as a consequence of the differing social function each set could
play under the new social conditions.

9

Revolution and World Politics

The pattern of world politics

Before the Revolution of 1917 the Tsarist rulers of Russian so-
ciety had shown considerable skill in adapting themselves to the
prevailing pattern of world politics that had grown up with the
modern system of independent and competing sovereign states.
This pattern, which has undergone a number of significant struc-
tural changes but remains in many essentials the same today, has
been widely described in terms of the balance of power. Without
assuming that the balance of power explains every facet of in-
ternational relations, this conception can nevertheless be used as
a simple theoretical framework to account for a very significant
portion of the behavior of modern states.

The chief principle of the balance-of -power system is the fol-
lowing: if any state attempts to expand its power and influence,
other states will singly or in combination attempt to prevent this ex-
pansion. (The Allied coalition against Hitler provides a familiar
recent example.) In this way the existing distribution of power
may be regarded at any one time as a system of equilibrium that
has a tendency to return to its original state as soon as it is
disturbed. An important corollary of the balance-of -power prin-
ciple is that any state that wishes to preserve its power and ter-
ritorial integrity must ally itself with the opponents of an ex-
panding state. If the existing distribution of power is static or
nearly so, a relatively weak state that wishes to preserve some
freedom of action will, as a rule, ally itself with the opponents
of the strongest power. Thus the victors in a war frequently find
themselves faced by a coalition of the discontented. In addition,

190 The Dilemma of Authority

the most powerful victor is frequently deserted by certain of its
allies, who fear an undue expansion of the victor's power and
therefore join the coalition of the discontented.

The balance of power leads in this fashion to a system of
coalitions and countercoalitions. Although it may legitimately
be regarded as a system with a tendency toward equilibrium,
the equilibrium is precarious and unstable. The numerous factors
which constitute tie power of any state—military preparations,
technology, population, morale, diplomatic skill, and a host of
others—are in a continual state of flux, which means that the dis-
tribution of power among states is likewise continually changing.
Furthermore, no state can obtain real security by being just as
strong as its potential opponents. This security can be won only
by becoming a great deal stronger than the potential or prospec-
tive opponents. But the very effort to gain this strength upsets
the delicate equilibrium and sets in operation the development of
a still stronger countercoalition.

Among the major skills required for success and survival un-
der balance-of-power conditions is the ability to evaluate cor-
rectly the strength and weaknesses of potential allies and enemies
in order to shift one's position in the distribution of power as
rapidly and effectively as possible. Failure to do so may lead to
conquest and defeat. By the same token, it is often necessary
for the statesman to be on guard lest an ally become too strong,
in which case it may be necessary to shift allegiance to the op-
posite camp. In a similar way, successful statesmen have to be
skilled in detecting signs of dissension in the enemy's camp and
in playing upon such conflicts to further the survival of their
own state.

At times the shiftings from one coalition to another are rapid
and frequent A sharp observer has commented that one of the
charms of power politics is that no one has time to become tired
of his friends. The epigram draws attention to the amoral as-
pects of any struggle for power. Allies have to be sought where
they may be found, and in the international arena it often oc-
curs that the choice dictated by power considerations does not
correspond with ideological ones or those of cultural affinity.1

Revolution and World Politics 191

The Bolsheviks, before they came to power, did not interpret
world politics along these lines. There is, to be sure, some over-
lapping in the conclusions reached by Lenin and those presented
in the preceding analysis. Both agree concerning the amoral
nature of politics and the tendency toward conflict in the mod-
ern state system. The Leninist theory of imperialism explained
such conflicts as the result of certain special features of modem
capitalism, which led to a struggle for the redivision of the world
among the industrial giants. Lenin hoped that a successful revo-
lution in Russia would set on fire a world revolution that would
bring the entire system to an abrupt end. It does not appear that
he or his followers had any very clear idea about what they
would do if the conflagration failed to materialize. All that Lenin
had to offer in this case, by way of prerevolutionary advice, was
a series of scattered remarks to the effect that if the proletariat
were victorious at first in only a single country, they would then
confront the rest of the capitalist world and attempt to raise up
revolts against the capitalist masters. Apparently Lenin thought
that the capitalist states would drop their struggles with one an-
other and face the infant socialist state in a single hostile phalanx.
In his prerevolutionary writings, Lenin was so preoccupied with
the class struggle inside the various states that he seems to have
left out of account the possibility that conflicts between states
might continue even after the advent of socialism and provide
the socialist state with its chief opportunity for survival. In other
words, prerevolutionary doctrine emphasized horizontal or class
cleavages, to the neglect of vertical or national cleavages.2 This
chapter will examine to what extent Lenin's ideas became the
basis of Soviet foreign policy, and to what extent the failures
of Leninist policy forced the Soviets to adopt balance-of-power
methods.

s

The impact of political responsibility

From the very beginning Bolshevik actions in foreign affairs
were influenced by the simple consideration of self-preservation, as
well as by more recondite considerations of doctrine. Perhaps the
most accurate appraisal of their behavior during the first few

192 The Dilemma of Authority

weeks is that they sought self-preservation through means sug-
gested or implicit in their doctrine.

Almost the very first step the Bolsheviks took was to issue a
propaganda appeal designed to rouse the masses to force an end
to the war upon their political leaders.3 Since the Russian mili-
tary forces were in a weakened state, at least partly due to
the defeatist activities of the Bolsheviks themselves, an all-round
armistice would of course have served Bolshevik interests. How-
ever, attempts to bring about an armistice through propaganda
and regular diplomatic channels were failures, leaving the Bol-
sheviks alone to face the still formidable military machine of
Imperial Germany.

In this situation the Bolshevik leaders at first acted on the
hope that a proletarian revolution might break out behind the
German lines and solve their problems in a dramatic and simple
fashion. The Russians secured a truce, whose terms provided for
an "exchange of views and newspapers" and the consequent en-
try of Bolshevik antiwar propaganda into Germany.4 Then the
Bolshevik negotiators under Trotsky's leadership attempted to
protract the conversations in the hope that the revolutionary
situation would ripen. Over the heads of the diplomats Trotsky
issued revolutionary proclamations claiming that peace could be
guaranteed only by the victorious proletarian revolution in all
countries. German trenches were flooded with appeals to throw
out the Kaiser and declare a revolutionary peace. For a moment
it appeared that revolutionary tactics might succeed, for a great
strike movement broke out spontaneously in Austria and spread
to Germany, even though the Russians exercised no direct con-
trol over this expression of sympathy for the Russian Revolution.
But the strike was soon brought under control.6

In the course of the negotiations Lenin rapidly came to the
conclusion that for the moment there was no hope of a revolution
in Germany, and that the Russian army was too weak to offer
effective resistance to anything the Germans demanded. Revo-
lutionary hopes would have to be put aside, he insisted, at least
For the time being, and the German terms accepted. Against
strong opposition within and without the Party, he forced through

Revolution and World Politics 193

the Russian signature of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Defending
his policy before the Party, he declared, "Yes, we will see the
international world revolution, but for the time being it is a
very good fairy tale, a very beautiful fairy tale— I quite under-
stand children liking beautiful fairy tales/'6

Faced with the choice between a revolutionary crusade whose
outcome seemed dubious and the preservation of the Soviet
regime, Lenin had no hesitation in choosing the second course.
It was a problem that would occur many subsequent times in the
history of the Soviet regime. To date it has always been answered
in the same way. Indeed, it was only on this early occasion that
the forces within the Party hostile to Lenin's choice stood any
real chance of imposing their version of "correct" revolutionary
strategy.

Bukharin and others, opposed to the "capitulation" at Brest-
Litovsk, accused Lenin and other members of the Central Com-
mittee of having betrayed the interests of the revolution, both
in Russia and in the world at large. "The conduct of the Central
Committee strikes a blow at the international proletariat," de-
clared the Left Communists, led by Bukharin.7 The decision to
conclude peace at any price, asserted the Bukharin group, inevi-
tably meant that the proletariat would lose its role as leader in
Russia, as well as in the world. Instead of abject surrender, the
proletariat should try to bring about a civil war on an interna-
tional scale. "We turn aside with contempt," Bukharin said,
"those appeaser elements who . . . instead of a civil war against
the international bourgeoisie wish to wage a national war against
Germany on the basis of class unity and a union with the Anglo-
French coalition. The renunciation of the dictatorship of the
proletariat in the name of war is just as inacceptable for us as
its renunciation in the name of peace."8 This statement is a
complete denial of the principles of international power politics
in favor of a pure revolutionary tactic.

With the wisdom of hindsight, one may readily assert that
the Left Communists, in their refusal to accept assistance against
Germany and their insistence on a revolutionary civil war, were
impractical Utopians who pushed Marxist doctrine to its logical

194 The Dilemma of Authority

and absurd conclusions. Perhaps in the light of the objective
situation at that time such comments are an accurate evaluation
of their position. Nevertheless, they and their followers in sub-
sequent decades, who have accused the Central Committee of
selling the international revolution down the river, have un-
ceasingly based their arguments on the allegedly practical
grounds that the promotion of world revolution was the only
way to preserve the new socialist state.

Lenin denied Bukharin's accusations and tried to show that
the peace of Brest-Litovsk had helped rather than hindered the
world revolution. Overtly at least he professed to regard the in-
terests of the Soviet state and the world revolution as identical.
Like his opponents, he seemed to think that one could not sur-
vive without the other. "If we take the position on a world his-
torical scale, there can be no doubt that if our revolution remains
alone, if there are no revolutionary movements in other coun-
tries, our position will be hopeless/' he declared to the Party
Congress in 1918.9 Therefore, he continued, "every . . . revo-
lutionary . , . will admit that we were right in signing any
disgraceful peace, because it is in the interests of the proletarian
revolution and the regeneration of Russia." 10 "If we manoeuvred
in the Bukharin way," he stated in the course of a bitter debate,
"we would ruin a good revolution/' 1X

In addition to this first postponement of revolutionary hopes,
another ideological consequence of the assumption of political
responsibility was an increased awareness that the capitalist
world did not represent a solid hostile phalanx. Two incidents
in 1918 indicate the general pattern. In February of that year
the Germans were still on the march, although the Russians had
already announced their willingness to sign a dictated peace.
On the twenty-second, at a meeting of the Party Central Com-
mittee, Trotsky proposed that the Bolsheviks should ask the
Allies for aid against the Germans. Lenin could not attend the
session, but sent a note saying, TPlease add my vote in favour of
the receipt of support and arms from the Anglo-French imperial-
ist brigands/' 12 In August, when the situation was reversed and
the Whites and the Allies were pressing upon the Bolsheviks,
Chicherin asked the Germans for aid against Allied intervention,"

Revolution and World Politics 195

The effect of these and other similar experiences may be
traced in various doctrinal statements of the time. By May 1918
Lenin's prerevolutionary view of the workers' state confronted by
a united imperialist world was considerably modified. He de-
clared to the Moscow Soviet at this time that the struggles of
the imperialists among themselves made it impossible for these
powers to form a union against the Soviet Republic. The waves
of imperialist war, Lenin observed, might drown the little island
of the Socialist Soviet Republic, but might also break up against
each other.14 At the same time, he continued to deny that his
diplomatic maneuvering was directed solely toward the preserva-
tion of Russian national interests. Instead, he maintained that
the defense of the Soviet Republic was the defense of world-
wide socialism. Lenin declared that the Bolsheviks had become
"defencists" after the November Revolution. ("Defencists" was
a term of abuse used by the Bolsheviks before the November
Revolution to describe those who wanted to continue the war. )
**We do not defend . . . national interests; we declare that the
interests of socialism, the interests of world socialism are higher
than national interests . . . We are defenders of the socialist
fatherland."15

The impact of political responsibility in the first months of
the regime led to a temporary renunciation of revolutionary goals
in favor of the preservation of the infant socialist state. This
renunciation was not overtly recognized as such and was con-
cealed through the rationalization that the strengthening of
Russia inevitably implied the strengthening of the revolutionary
forces. In addition, political responsibility very rapidly led to
an awareness of splits in the enemy camp and to techniques for
taking advantage of them, which received doctrinal sanction and
recognition. The analysis of world politics hammered out in
prewar years had been tried out in practice and found at least
partly deficient, which Lenin himself was the first to admit.

Revolutionary hopes and disappointments

Despite their first disappointments, the new leaders of Russia
continued to express the opinion that they could not survive
without revolutionary outbreaks in some more industrially ad-

196 The Dilemma of Authority

vanced country. Shortly after the first anniversary of the No-
vember Revolution, Lenin told the Congress of Soviets that the
complete victory of a socialist revolution was "unthinkable in
a single country" and that it required "the most active co-
operation of at least a few progressive countries in which we
cannot include Russia."16

As an advanced industrial country whose technology and
highly skilled population would provide a tremendous asset in
the Communist camp, Germany was widely regarded among the
Russian leaders as the key to the international situation. Trot-
sky in a public speech on October 3, 1918, declared: "The Ger-
man proletariat with all of its technical skill on the one hand and,
on the other hand, our Russia— disorganized but extremely rich
in natural resources and with 200 million inhabitants— present
a most powerful bloc against which all the waves of imperialism
will break. For us there can be no allies from the imperialist
camp. The revolutionary camp of the proletarians, advancing in
an open battle with imperialism— these are our allies."17 Such
responsible leaders as Trotsky and others predicted that the
processes which brought the Bolsheviks to power in Russia would
repeat themselves because of parallel and irresistible social
forces, aided by only a minimum of Russian assistance.18 Their
reliance on the logic of history may in this case have been an
indirect confession of their inability to render more concrete
assistance to their sympathizers in Germany, who became in-
creasingly active with the collapse of German arms.

Nevertheless, the Russians did what they could. Adolph Joffe,
the Soviet diplomatic representative in Berlin after the Treaty
of Brest-Litovsk, behaved as a revolutionary agent rather than
as an ordinary diplomat. More than ten Left Social Democratic
newspapers were directed and supported by the Soviet Embassy
in Berlin. In December 1918, Joffe admitted having paid 100,000
marks for the purchase of arms for German revolutionists, and
claimed that he had established in Germany a 10 million ruble
fund for the support of the German revolution.19

Soviet financial assistance and conspiratorial advice failed
to turn the upheavals in Germany into a copy of the November

Revolution and World Politics 197

Revolution. In January 1919, the Spartacist Union, a group that
had split off from the majority socialists and favored the seizure
of power by violent means, was decapitated in an unsuccessful
uprising by the killing of its two leaders, Rosa Luxemburg and
Karl Liebknecht. The majority socialists turned to conservative
forces in the army to suppress the uprising, and thereby saved
their own position for the time being.

Similar outbreaks in Munich (April 7, 1919) and in Hungary
(March 21, 1919) likewise ended in failure. These rebellions
were led during their communist phases by flamboyant and doc-
trinaire revolutionaries who soon alienated local support by at-
tempts to organize economic and political life on what they be-
lieved were Soviet models. This policy made it relatively easy
for their internal and foreign enemies to crush them.

The communist phase of the Munich uprising lasted only two
weeks, scarcely time for the Communist International to extend
greetings.20 In the Hungarian revolt Lenin gave its leader, Bela
Kun, tactical and general advice. But Lenin was in no position
to enforce the acceptance of this advice. He lacked both the
disciplinary power and the information upon which to make an
informed judgment. Bela Kun sent flattering letters to Lenin,
enclosing copies of his decrees and telling Lenin how his writings
were serving as a model for the Hungarian proletarian revolu-
tion. From them it is clear that he was making most of the deci-
sions on his own, decisions that we need not record, but which
ended disastrously for him and his followers.21

The present-day concept of a tightly disciplined Communist
Party blindly following detailed instructions from Moscow, a
conception that distorts even the contemporary relationships be-
tween Moscow and its satellite parties, certainly does not apply
to these early attempts to extend the Soviet system to other lands.
At this time the leaders of the Russian Revolution served as
inspirers, and as contributors of occasional advice and assistance,
but not as directors. Although they often claimed they were rid-
ing the wave of the future, they were scarcely able to direct it
into the channels they chose.

The only attempt to extend Soviet influence over which the

198 The Dilemma of Authority

Russian Communist leaders exercised considerable control took
place in Poland, more or less by accident, during the spring and
summer of 1920. What had begun as a defensive war against
Pilsudski became transformed for a brief time by the military
successes of the Red Army into a revolutionary crusade. The Rus-
sians established a Polish "Provisional Government" behind the
lines of the Red Army and attempted to set up Soviets as they
went along. Local Polish support was not forthcoming, and the
invasion of the Red Army unified Polish national sentiment be-
hind Pilsudski, whose forces defeated the Red Army.22 A few
months later Lenin confessed that he had made a political mis-
calculation.28

A significant sidelight on Soviet foreign policy appears from
the fact that, when the Red Army was at the height of its cam-
paign against Poland, the Russians continued their negotiations
with the British in an effort to bring to a close hostilities between
the two countries and to establish normal diplomatic relations.
These actions indicate that the Communist leaders were anxious
to keep a second string to their bow. They also suggest that
the Bolsheviks had already begun to entertain serious doubts
about the imminence of a world-wide revolutionary conflagra-
tion.**

The revolutionary failures of 1918, 1919, and 1920 were at-
tributed very largely by the Russian Communist leaders to a
poor choice of tactics on the part of local leaders, over whom
they felt they had inadequate control, and to a lack of disciplined
organization in general.25 The Communist International had been
founded formally at its opening Congress in March 1919. But
as Zinoviev, the chairman of its Executive Committee, observed,
the Comintern was merely a "propaganda society* during the
entire first year of its existence.26 Now the time had come, the
Russian leaders argued, for it to become something concrete.
The Russian Party had succeeded in overthrowing the Tsarist
autocracy by creating a strictly disciplined conspiratorial elite.
Might not a similar organization be able to succeed on an inter-
national scale? In the spring of 1920 Lenin wrote that "the Rus-
sian model reveals to all countries something that is very essen-

Revolution and World Politics 199

tial in their near and inevitable future/'27 "The experience of
the victorious dictatorship of the proletariat in Russia," he added,
"has clearly shown even to those who are unable to think . . .
that absolute centralisation and the strictest discipline of the
proletariat are one of the fundamental conditions for victory
over the bourgeoisie/' Similar arguments were hammered home
by Zinoviev at the Second Congress of the Communist Interna-
tional, in July 1920.28 Waverers on both the Right and the Left,
particularly those who wished to have dealings with the alleged
traitors to the proletarian revolution among the moderate social-
ist parties, must be eliminated from Communist ranks.

Such was the background of thinking and circumstances that
preceded the adoption of the famous "Twenty-One Conditions"
for admission into the Communist International at its Second
Congress. On paper at least these conditions established a cen-
tralized organization very similar in structure to the Russian
Communist Party.29 Henceforth the failures of the Comintern
were to be rationalized by the explanation that they were due
either to treachery or to the failure of various Communist leaders
to understand Marxist-Leninist (later Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist)
doctrine correctly and to apply it properly. The same argument
was used against the leaders of the Comintern by those who lost
power within its ranks.80 At no time was the suggestion made
openly that the Russian experience might be irrelevant or that
Lenin's conception of the dynamics of modern capitalist society
could be seriously mistaken.

Despite the adoption of the Twenty-One Conditions in 1920,
the Comintern remained for some time a loose gathering rather
than a tightly centralized organization. As late as 1922, at the
Fourth Congress, Zinoviev complained that the twenty-one points
had not been "brought to life/' He spoke bitterly about the mis-
behavior of the French and Italian Parties, and observed sadly
that internal discipline was so weak it had not proved possible to
carry out even such a minor festival as "Comintern Week" on an
international scale.81 However, some improvement was noted by
this time in Comintern connections with Germany* There, ac-
cording to Zinoviev's claim, almost no political event took place

200 The Dilemma of Authority

without an exchange of opinions between the German Party and
the Comintern Executive Committee.32

In general, the Comintern was torn throughout its history
by factional disputes frequently ending in wholesale expulsions.
These disputes were the reflection of oppositional movements
within the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, personal rival-
ries, and genuine differences of opinion over the correct policies
to be adopted. Often these differences arose from the fact that
the interests of the local Parties in adapting themselves to local
conditions did not agree with the interests of the dominant Rus-
sian Party, or at least were interpreted in widely divergent
fashions.

In the beginning, debates were often hot, long, and heavy at
Comintern Congresses, where disagreements were brought out
into the open. Such continued to be the case as late as the Fifth
Congress in 1924. At the Sixth Congress in 1928 disagreements
were largely prevented from coming out openly. However, the
delegates were obviously concerned about rumors of differences
within the Russia Politburo as Stalin prepared to liquidate the
Right Opposition. The Seventh and last Congress in 1935, at
which Comintern policy underwent one of its many sharp re-
versals, was a well-rehearsed affair in which policy was adopted
without serious objection from the floor. These and many other
facts show that the same process of transferring power to a nar-
rower and narrower circle took place within the Comintern as
well as in the Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

According to the Twenty-One Conditions, the formal pro-
cedure for reaching decisions within the Comintern was sup-
posedly that of democratic centralism, as in the Russian Party.
Actually, decisions were reached for the most part by promi-
nent factional leaders taking their troubles to the top Russian
authorities. Factional groups attempted to persuade the Russians
that their policy was the correct one. If they succeeded, their
policy was adopted as the formal line of the International!38 If
they failed yet insisted on their point of view, they would, in
time, be cast out as traitors to the working class. Naturally this
situation put a great premium on personal contacts and accurate

Revolution and World Politics 201

information on currents of opinion among the Russian leaders.
A career and even survival often depended on guessing cor-
rectly which way the Soviet cat would jump. Those who out of
principle disdained to make such guesses increasingly failed to
survive. This situation has had important effects upon the pres-
ent-day leaders of the Communist Parties outside the USSR.
Most of them are skilled bureaucratic intriguers rather than
flaming revolutionaries.

Thus the Russian Communists did not have at their command
a revolutionary instrument until after the spontaneous postwar
upheavals had died down. The earliest date at which the Rus-
sians may have attempted to direct a proletarian uprising was
in March 1921, the time of an abortive outbreak in Germany.
Even in this case the Russian role was at the very most no more
than that of spurring on the German Communists to seize an
apparently favorable moment for general strike throughout Ger-
many.34 The attempt was a failure. By this time the pressure of
domestic events, combined with the failure of world revolution
to materialize, had forced Lenin to sound the signal for a gen-
eral retreat. On March 8, 1921, he gave to the Tenth Party Con-
gress the famous speech outlining the New Economic Policy.

Once again the revolution was postponed. Lenin conceded
this frankly, both in public and in private.35 Other leaders
adopted, officially at least, a more equivocal attitude. Trotsky's
report to the Third Congress of the Communist International,
held in the summer of 1921, and the Theses drafted by him
which were adopted by that body, might be regarded as a model
of political double talk. He argued that the conclusion of the
peace treaties did not mean that the international bourgeoisie
had renounced the goal of destroying the Soviet Republic.36
Future perspectives remained revolutionary.37 Capitalism was
definitely not restored, and had instead entered a period of pro-
found depression, according to Trotsky's interpretation.88 On
the other hand, he conceded that capitalist equilibrium displayed
great powers of resistance, that the bourgeoisie felt it had grown
stronger, and that in the future the advance would not be so
feverish, that there would be a slowing down of the revolu-

202 The Dilemma of Authority

tionary tempo.39 Therefore, he advised the Communist Parties to
be ready for revolutionary upheavals or for a period of gather-
ing their forces and winning the support of the majority of
the working class.40

The equivocal nature of these statements and others of the
same kind may be attributed to the conflicting pressures of the
necessity for a new definition of political realities and the desire
to cling to older definitions in the face of contradictory and re-
fractory experiences. Even natural scientists have occasionally
found themselves in this awkward predicament at the time of the
breakup of one world view and the emergence of a new one.

On the whole, revolutionary hopes displayed a surprising te-
nacity in the face of repeated failures. Two more major attempts
in Germany and China were undertaken before a long lull,
lasting from 1927 until the Second World War, took place in
Soviet endeavors to alter the social structure of the non-Soviet
world. Before examining these attempts it is necessary to analyze
the Soviet effort to adjust to a world of competing great powers
by the more familiar methods of balance-of-power diplomacy,
and its relationship to official Soviet doctrines.

Marx or Machiavelli?

Accepting in 1921 the supposedly temporary setback to the
goal of self-preservation by revolution, the Communist leaders
of Russia proceeded to display considerable skill in the techniques
of balance-of-power diplomacy. As in the case of other con-
temporary states, the Soviets applied such techniques with but
little open recognition that they were following an easily recog-
nizable pattern of behavior. For the most part, their overt aware-
ness of this fact was limited to statements about the necessity
of splitting the imperialist camp, or to proclamations about their
generally pacific intentions and willingness to cooperate with
capitalist states "during a given historical period."

The Leninist conception of international relations, though it
did not prevent the practice of balance-of-power politics on the
part of the Communist elite, militated against any conception
of international politics as a continuing system of political rela-

Revolution and World Politics 203

tionships, in which the participants themselves might change or
change their positions, while the system itself remained rela-
tively unchanged. Instead, the Russian leaders continued, though
with decreasing frequency and emphasis, to predict the disap-
pearance of the entire system and its replacement by an interna-
tional proletarian community.

The first large-scale triumph won by the Soviets through the
techniques of balance-of-power diplomacy was the detachment
of Germany from a position of dependence on England and
France by the Rapallo Treaty of April 16, 1922. The success of
Rapallo appears to have been a hoped for, but unexpected, wind-
fall. In the discussions that preceded Russia's participation in
the Genoa Conference, Lenin continually emphasized Soviet
economic rather than political goals. In fact, his published
speeches contain no reference to the possibility of a Soviet-Ger-
man rapprochement. The purpose of the Genoa Conference, as
stated by its moving spirit, Lloyd George, was the restoration of
European economy shattered by the war. From just such a con-
ference Lenin apparently believed that Russia had much to
gain. "From the very beginning we declared that we welcomed
Genoa and would attend it; we understood perfectly well, and
did not conceal it, that we were going there as merchants, be-
cause trade with capitalist countries is absolutely essential for
us (until they have entirely collapsed), and that we were going
to Genoa to discuss in the most correct and favorable manner
the politically suitable terms of this trade, and nothing more." 41
There was, according to Lenin, no disagreement or controversy
on this question in the Party Central Committee or among the
rank and file,42 an indication of the extent to which the hopes
and desires for a revolutionary crusade had died down.

Even though the restoration of trade relations appears to
have been the primary Soviet objective, it is evident that political
matters were also under consideration. On the way to Genoa the
Soviet delegation stopped off in Berlin and engaged in conversa-
tions concerning the possibility of a Soviet-German agreement48
Both sides had been feeling their way toward an agreement for
some time in order to escape pressure from the victorious Allies.

204 The Dilemma of Authority

According to Louis Fischer, the conversations that ultimately
led to Rapallo began as early as 1920 in a prison cell occupied
by Karl Radek.44 They did not succeed until the Allies had been
split by a combination of circumstances and Soviet-German diplo-
matic tactics.

In addition to England, the major participants in the Genoa
Conference were Russia, France, Germany, and Italy. Certain
economic interests temporarily united these countries against the
Soviets before the conference. Various groups in England, France,
and Germany joined together prior to the conference in a plan
for dealing with the Russian problem that would in effect have
resulted in the exploitation of Russian resources on what amounted
to a basis of extraterritorial privileges. The hopes of these circles
were perhaps unduly raised by the partial restoration of private
property and private trade in Russia under the NEP, and by
various official Soviet announcements concerning the oppor-
tunities for foreign capitalists to operate enterprises in the Soviet
Republic in order to hasten the restoration of Russia's shattered
economy.45 However, the powers were able to reach an agree-
ment only on this extreme basis, which would have virtually
ended Russian sovereignty. Other political factors divided them.

Chief among these factors were conflicting Anglo-French
views on the German problem. The British were suspicious of
French desires to achieve European hegemony. The French in
turn were suspicious of British balance-of-power policies, and
of the German desire to play off their former enemies against
each other to increase their own freedom of action. The en-
tire situation was further complicated by a division of opinion
within each country, which was at least partly reflected in the
delegations of each power, including the Soviet one.

At the opening of the conference Chicherin was careful not
to create a common antagonistic front by revolutionary phrase-
making. Lenin had already advised him to "avoid big words*' in
discussing the text of his opening speech.48 Instead, and pre-
sumably taking his cue from Lenin, Chicherin opened his speech
by declaring that the Russian delegation, while remaining true
to the general principles of Communism, recognized the need

Revolution and World Politics 205

for economic cooperation between the old and the new system
of the world during the present historical epoch.47 This concep-
tion of the "peaceful co-existence of two social systems during
a given historical epoch" was put forth on a number of subse-
quent occasions when the Soviet leaders were anxious to obtain
the support of a specific capitalist country against other capi-
talist states. On this occasion, as on others, the search for sup-
port required the postponement or abjuring of revolutionary
goals.

It is not possible to follow here in any further detail Soviet
techniques at this conference, though they constitute a fascinating
chapter in diplomatic history. Chicherin cleverly succeeded in
splitting the Allies, so that they could not present a united
opposition to Russian tactics. Then he managed to split the
German delegation itself, which was divided between those
favoring an Eastern and a Western orientation for German for-
eign policy. Finally, he telephoned a member of the German
delegation at one-thirty Easter morning, saying the moment to
sign was then or never. The same afternoon the Rapallo pact
stunned other delegates to the conference.48

The three-cornered diplomatic struggle among England,
France, and Germany continued for several years, and again pro-
vided an opportunity for the Soviets to prevent capitalist unifi-
cation directed against them. Among other incidents, the Bol-
shevik leaders feared that the Locarno pact of 1925, guaranteeing
the Franco-German frontier, might be a move inimical to them.
Before the treaty was signed, Chicherin stated to the German
press that the "entire guarantee pact policy of England is an
integral part of her basic anti-Soviet activity." *® At the same time
both the French leaders, Poincar6 and Briand, feared that Lo-
carno would make England the arbiter between France and Ger-
many and hamper French freedom of action. They therefore
made an unsuccessful attempt to effect a rapprochement with
the Russians.50 Meanwhile the Germans, who were under pressure
from the Russians to refuse Locarno, could not forfeit friendly
relations with the Soviets, since this would weaken their bargain-
ing position with the Western powers. Furthermore, there are

206 The Dilemma of Authority

indications that an arrangement was in effect at that time be-
tween Germany and the Soviet Union for an exchange of mili-
tary experience, army experts, and munitions, though this fact
has been denied by the Russians.51 For these reasons Stresemann
and Chicherin reached an agreement, repeating the essentials
of the Treaty of Rapallo, by October of 1925. The Locarno Treaty
was signed on October 16, 1925, but the Russo-German treaty
was kept secret in order to avoid spoiling Germany's chances in
the West. It was not published until the League Council refused
to allow Germany to enter the League of Nations in March of
1926.52

This technique of pitting one power against another, the
essence of balance-of-power diplomacy, was not confined to Euro-
pean affairs. It was also applied in the Near East, where the major
antagonist again was England, and where the application of the
policy also conflicted at times with revolutionary aspirations.
Here, however, the conflict between doctrine and expediency was
not so marked, since according to Leninist doctrine the forces
opposed to colonial rule included local nationalist movements.
After experimenting with propaganda appeals to throw off the
imperialist yoke, and even in one case with the establishment
of a Soviet regime in Northern Persia— the Gilan Republic which
lasted until the autumn of 1921— the Russians contented them-
selves with the toleration or active support of local nationalist
leaders such as Riza Shah Pahlavi in Persia or Kemal Atatiirk
in Turkey, who endeavored to westernize and modernize their
countries. The anti-British policies of such leaders made them
useful to the Soviets. Thus at the Lausanne Conference in 1923,
called to discuss the status of the Dardanelles, Chicherin clashed
with the British leader, Lord Curzon, and won the reputation of
being "more Turkish than the Turks." Although Kemal used
strong-arm measures to put down Russian Communist influence
within his country, his actions had no appreciable effect upon
the friendly relations between the two countries.58

During the twenties the Soviets continued to waver between
attempts to maximize their power and security by prolonging
the truce, as they saw it, with the capitalist world, and attempts

Revolution and World Politics 207

to find a more radical solution by revolutionary means. Among
the devices used to prolong the truce was the series of disarma-
ment proposals that won for the Soviets much sympathy in non-
Communist circles opposed to war.54 The Soviet proposal, made
on a number of occasions, amounted to complete and total dis-
armament. As a weak state in the military sense, the Soviets had
much to gain from radical disarmament. They may also have an-
ticipated gains from weakening what they regarded as the military
props under capitalism, and have found some value in showing
up the alleged hypocrisy of their capitalist opponents. Neverthe-
less, Soviet disarmament proposals were not merely propaganda
statements, issued without any intention that they should be
acted upon. As their actions show, the Russians regarded any
step that might reduce the danger of armed attack on the USSR
as desirable. They suggested partial steps, such as a mutual re-
duction of the Red Army and the armies of Russia's western bor-
der states to one quarter of their existing dimensions.55 After
sharp initial criticisms, the Soviets participated in the Kellogg
Pact (1929), sponsored by the United States in an effort to out-
law war as an instrument of national policy, and at a later date
in the League of Nations. At the same time the Russians contin-
ued to make it clear that even though they welcomed partial,
or indeed any, disarmament, they still regarded such measures
as palliatives. Capitalism, they repeated, was bound to produce
war.

Another aspect of the Soviet policy of prolonging the truce and
seeking allies where they could be found was exemplified in their
search for de facto and de jure recognition by the other powers.
By 1924 recognition had been granted by the major powers
except for the United States. In that year the Commissariat for
Foreign Affairs could make the somewhat tmrevolutionary claim
in its annual report to the Congress of Soviets that "the USSR
has taken its due place in the system of great world powers." 66
In addition to the search for credits and other concrete advan-
tages, the search for prestige— the desire to make the capitalist
world and capitalist diplomats accept them as social equals-
appears to have played no small role in this aspect of Soviet

208 The Dilemma of Authority

foreign policy. Italy, where Mussolini was one of the first dic-
tators to succeed in suppressing the local Communist Party,
managed to be the first country to grant de jure recognition,
and thereby won a favorable trade agreement. Others followed
rapidly.

As the Italian incident suggests, the search for allies and for
recognition, conducted largely through the Commissariat for
Foreign Affairs, conflicted on various occasions with the policy
promoted through the Comintern. A frequently reproduced car-
toon from Pravda shows Foreign Affairs Commissar Chicherin
scratching his head in perspiring anxiety as Zinoviev, Comintern
leader, thundered revolutionary phrases over the international air
waves. Nor was the anxiety confined to Chicherin's organization.
Bukharin found it necessary to reassure the delegates to the
Fourth Congress of the Comintern that it was perfectly proper
for proletarian states to accept loans and form alliances or blocs
with bourgeois states, if the tactical situation of the moment de-
manded it. In such cases, he added, "it is the duty of foreign
comrades to work for the victory of such a bloc. If in the future
the bourgeoisie of such a country is itself defeated, then other
tasks arise. (Laughter.)" 57 In other words, agreements with capi-
talist states were defended as one means among many for
strengthening the socialist bulwark against the inevitable day
of reckoning. Such statements were of course a repetition of
Lenin's essential argument at Brest-Litovsk: that there could be
no conflict between the national interests of the Soviet state and
the ultimate interests of the world revolution.

This argument might satisfy doubts among those whose think-
ing took place at a high level of abstraction, but it gave few
clues regarding what tactics or combination of tactics would be
effective in a specific situation. The abortive revolution in Ger-
many during 1923 reveals clearly the dilemma thrust upon the
Russian leaders by the necessity of choosing between revolu-
tionary and nonrevolutionary techniques in pursuit of their goals.

During the winter of that year Germany underwent a series
of disturbances, set off by the French occupation of the Ruhr,
that had many of the appearances of revolutionary turmoil. In

Revolution and World Politics 209

contrast to the situation during 1918-1920 the Russians now had,
in Germany at least, a Communist Party that could be counted
upon to follow closely the Politburo's suggestions.58 However,
differing appraisals of the revolutionary potentialities of the sit-
uation in Germany led, along with other factors, to numerous
delays and hesitations, which contributed to the adventure's fail-
ure.

These varying appraisals were related to hopes and fears
concerning the fate of the revolution in Russia itself. As has
already been seen, one current of opinion among the Bolshevik
leaders pinned Communist hopes on a revolution that would in-
corporate German skills and technology into the Soviet system.
According to this argument, such a turn of events would coun-
teract the industrial backwardness of Russia and produce a strong
proletarian bloc against the capitalist world. Zinoviev pointed
out that a proletarian victory in Germany would put an end to
those features of the NEP that were dangerous from the Com-
munist viewpoint, increasing enormously the role of state indus-
try and nipping in the bud the recovery of the bourgeoisie.59
The other current of opinion was embodied in the policy of
Rapallo and the search for economic and even military arrange-
ments with the existing German government, as a counterweight
to the power of England and France.60 On this account, the pro-
ponents of this view advocated caution and held back from revo-
lutionary adventures, evidently fearing to promote a renewed
attack on the Soviet Union.

Various individuals among the major Soviet leaders shifted
back and forth between the two positions. Stalin apparently
opposed the revolution, at least in its beginning stages.61 In the
course of subsequent factional struggles, Stalin denied the accu-
sation that he had opposed the German revolution, but revealed
a number of other differences of opinion within the Politburo.
"I and the whole Politburo," said Stalin, shared the view that
the Communists should not make a premature demonstration
( a reference by Stalin to a Communist demonstration attacked by
"armed fascists"). When the situation changed after August 1923,
Stalin continued, "I and other members of the Commission of

210 The Dilemma of Authority

the Comintern stood without reservation for the immediate
seizure of power by the Communists." 62

Trotsky, on the other hand, who had initially favored the
revolution and worked out the details with the German Com-
munist leader Brandler,83 threw cold water on the attempt at a
crucial moment, when the Reichswehr intervened to suppress the
disturbance. To an American senator, who questioned him on
Russian intentions, he made a statement which illustrates clearly
the conflict between the Soviet need for a continuation of the
truce with capitalism and the desire for a radical solution of Rus-
sian problems. His reply indicated strongly that the German rev-
olutionaries could not count on effective Soviet assistance, but
would have to fend for themselves. In his statement Trotsky said,
"Before all and above all we desire peace. We shall not despatch
a single Red Army soldier across the boundaries of Soviet Russia
unless we are absolutely compelled to do so." Trotsky then went
on to say that Russia would defend herself if the conflict in Ger-
many ended in victory for the German monarchists and an agree-
ment with France and England for combined action against
Russia. But, he pointed out, the Russians could help the Germans
only by first making war on Poland, which would provoke a gen-
eral conflict. He then declared: "We do not conceal our sym-
pathies with the German working class and with its heroic strug-
gle for freedom, and to be perfectly frank, I can say that if we
could assure victory to the German revolution without risking
war we should do everything we could." **

Shortly afterward, and at the very last moment, the leaders
of the Germany Party called off the plans for the uprising. One
courier, however, departed by mistake for Hamburg with the
signal to begin the battle. After a brief but bloody struggle the
Hamburg revolt was put down, an event which extinguished for
several years Soviet prospects of a Communist Germany. This
failure was a crucial blow to those elements in Russia who still
counted on revolutions outside the Soviet Union for assistance
in solving its domestic and foreign problems. Recriminations
over this failure helped to bring out into the open the split
between Trotsky and Stalin. With the failure of revolution to

Revolution and World Politics 211

materialize in the West, the Russians turned their revolutionary
attentions to the Far East.

Anti-imperialism: the convergence of doctrine and
expediency

In Europe, Russian revolutionary interests sometimes con-
flicted with her balance-of-power interests, with the result that
the Bolsheviks had difficulty in choosing between the two. In
the Near East, the conflict was less, though the Russians on the
whole found it more expedient to support nationalists anxious
to westernize their countries, and hence opposed to a position
of colonial dependence, than to attempt outright revolution. In
China, for a time, revolutionary and balance-of-power interests
tended to coincide.

At first, however, such was not the case. In the beginning
Russian national interests, inherited from the Tsarist regime, pre-
vented the Russians from taking an active hand in Chinese do-
mestic affairs. Despite high expectations on both the Chinese and
the Russian sides, aroused by numerous Soviet expressions of
sympathy for the "semi-colonial" status of China and Russian
promises to abandon Tsarist privileges, relations between the two
countries were cool and intermittent until 1923. Various Soviet
attempts to achieve agreement with and recognition by the Pe-
king government ended in failure, largely owing to Soviet reluc-
tance to give up the territorial acquisitions in Outer Mongolia
and Northern Manchuria that had been won by the Tsarist
regime and over which the Bolsheviks managed to reestablish
varying degrees of control by methods that foreshadowed their
policy in Europe after World War II, nearly a quarter of a cen-
tury later.65

However, after the failure of protracted attempts to reach an
agreement with the Peking government, in 1923 the Soviet emis-
sary, Joffe, whose earlier activities in Berlin have already been
described, sought out the Kuomintang leader, Sun Yat-sen. Fol-
lowing a number of discussions between these two, a statement
was issued that set the tone of subsequent Russian policy for a
number of years. According to this declaration, both Sun and

212 The Dilemma of Authority

Joffe agreed that "neither Communist organization nor the sys-
tem of Soviets can be introduced into China at present because
the necessary conditions do not exist there . . . [and] the most
pressing problem of China is to achieve her national unification
and to realize her complete national independence." M

The policy, suggested in the Joffe statement and followed by
Stalin and Bukharin from this point until the end of 1927, had
two main features. One was the giving of military advice and
assistance to the Kuomintang, which included the services of
Michael Borodin and General Galen, as well as the furnishing
of a considerable quantity of military supplies. The other fea-
ture was the attempt to make the peasants the background of the
antimilitarist and anti-imperialist movement and to draw them
into the Kuomintang. In general, the Russian leaders debated and
approved the major policies outlined above, in addition to many
tactical details. When the adventure was drawing to a close in
1927, Bukharin revealed that the general tactics of the Chinese
revolution were determined by the Politburo.67

Even the moderately leftist policy promoted by the Moscow
leaders produced a split within the ranks of the Kuomintang.
The cleavage appeared at the Second Kuomintang Congress held
early in 1926. In March 1926, Chiang Kai-shek, who succeeded
Sun as the leader of the Kuomintang, decided to ally himself
with right-wing elements in the organization and executed a
minor coup against the leftist group during Borodin's absence.
Though this rift was temporarily patched up, Chiang managed
to carry out a more successful coup in the spring of 1927.

As the Chinese coalition disintegrated, Trotsky demanded
more and more insistently an outright revolutionary policy. The
only way out after Chiang's second coup, Trotsky declared in
heated sessions of the Executive Committee of the Communist
International, lay in arousing the Chinese workers and peasants
against imperialism by connecting their basic economic interests
with the cause of China's liberation. He demanded a definite
break with the bourgeoisie, the forming of Soviets on the Rus-
sian model, and an intensification of the class struggle.68 Fears
that a truly revolutionary policy might provoke a dangerous

Revolution and World Politics 213

reaction in Britain, whose government broke off relations with
the USSR during these vitriolic arguments, Trotsky answered
with the boast that a really revolutionary leadership could "make
the waters of the Yangtse too hot for the ships of Lloyd George,
Chamberlain and MacDonald." 69

Stalin at first attempted to maintain the coalition in China.
Then, since this policy failed, and since Chiang Kai-shek out-
maneuvered the local Comintern forces, Stalin and the Comin-
tern moved further and further toward an open revolutionary
break.70

By such a policy neither the advantages of revolution nor
those of compromise could be obtained. The relationship of
political forces in Moscow was such that each side was strong
enough to paralyze the other insofar as Chinese affairs were
concerned, with the result that the weaknesses of both prevailed.
The record of the debates shows clearly that both Stalin and
Trotsky attempted to fit the facts into the rigid pattern of Rus-
sian experience, while interpreting that experience according to
variant shadings of Marxist-Leninist theory.

There is no need to follow further the details of the disin-
tegration of Kuomintang-Communist cooperation. In July 1927
Borodin was expelled. Although the Chinese Communists at-
tempted to utilize a split between the right and left wings of
the Kuomintang, they were unsuccessful and found themselves
in open warfare against both wings during the summer of 1927.
Finally, on December 11, 1927, there was a brief and bloody
uprising in Canton which lasted for three days, when it was put
down by Chiang's troops.71 Thus ended the abortive Chinese rev-
olution. The Chinese Communists took to the outer reaches of
China, living as a state within a state for nearly twenty years,
returning to the scene as a major factor in international politics
after the Second World War.

The consequences of this defeat were far-reaching in terms
of both ideology and behavior. The Soviet Union did not again
attempt to engineer any mass upheavals. For nearly twenty years
no Communist Party made a serious attempt to gain power.

Although the Leninist framework was retained as the official

214 The Dilemma of Authority

explanation of foreign affairs, the Soviet Union proceeded to fol-
low the typical balance-of-power pattern of cooperating with
one power or group of powers against an opposing group, and
shifting its alliances in accord with obvious national interests. In
addition, after the defeat of the Chinese revolution, Stalin pur-
sued in earnest the slogan of "socialism in one country" and
devoted a large proportion of the Soviet Union's energies to the
task of transforming its internal social order.

Conclusions

The impact of Marxist ideology upon Soviet foreign policy
is highly visible during the period just discussed. The interpre-
tation of world politics developed by Lenin and others prior to
the November Revolution became the basis for action on a num-
ber of occasions following the seizure of power. The very first
actions of the new regime in its relationships with the non-Soviet
world represented an attempt to put Leninist ideas into practice,
an attempt that was repeated in varying ways for many subse-
quent years. Efforts to bring about the proletarian revolution
occupied a large part of the energies and talents of the new
regime.

In addition, Marxist ideology acted as a screen between the
Communist rulers of Russia and political events in foreign lands,
as well as in Russia itself. Their previous training in the Marxist
pattern of analysis and interpretation of world events sensitized
the new Russian leaders to certain facts and made them obtuse
to others. Revolutionary optimism, which events showed to be
unwarranted, played an important part in their decisions, although
there were significant differences in the extent to which such op-
timism affected various individuals in Bolshevik ruling circles.

Each revolutionary attempt failed. In the years 1918-1920
circumstances were such that the Communist leaders of Russia
were prevented from making attempts that extended beyond
propaganda. The Communist uprisings of that period in Berlin,
Munich, Hungary, and elsewhere cannot be considered manifes-
tations of Russian policy to the same extent as the German revo-
lution of 1923 or the Chinese revolution. But even in the latter

Revolution and World Politics 215

instances, in which the Politburo could direct the tactics of local
Communists in their mutual efforts to ignite apparently revolu-
tionary tinder, the attempts failed.

This series of failures had important consequences in both
behavior and doctrine. When the proletarian revolution did not
materialize, the leaders of Russia were forced to fall back on the
techniques of traditional balance-of -power diplomacy. In the em-
ployment of these methods they enjoyed no little success, which
contrasted with their failures in the sphere of revolution. The
structure of international relationships in the early twentieth
century was stronger than the attempts of the Bolsheviks to
overthrow it and replace it with a new system. Indeed, it was
strong enough to force the Bolsheviks to abide by its rules and
to adopt its time-hallowed techniques in order to survive as a
state.

The failure of revolution placed the Russian Communists in
a dilemma. They were compelled to split the capitalist front, or to
take advantage of splits in this front, in order to preserve and
enhance their own power and security. At the same time, the
existence of the revolutionary tradition tended to encourage
a unified opposition to the Soviet regime and to hamper it in its
efforts to seek allies in the capitalist camp. In this fashion the goal
of ultimate and complete security, to be gained after the victory
of the proletarian revolution in the more important capitalistic
countries, came into conflict with the goal of immediate se-
curity, to be obtained only with the acceptance of questionable
allies.

A number of reactions to this difficult situation can be distin-
guished. It is clear that Lenin very rapidly realized the signifi-
cance of divisions among the Soviets* enemies and that he
displayed considerable skill in utilizing these splits for strengthen-
ing the Russian position in the existing distribution of power.

When the Communist leadership, however, was deprived of
Lenin's intuitive grasp of political realities, fumblings and disas-
ters followed for a time. The debates and actions concerning
the German and Chinese revolutions reflect a doctrinaire blind-
ness and lack of adaptability between opposing groups in the

216 The Dilemma of Authority

Communist elite. Thus the actualities of the political situation in
both instances escaped under the pressure of fitting them into the
Marxist framework.

Additional factors prevented the emergence and overt ac-
ceptance of alternative, non-Marxist interpretations of world prob-
lems. The tendency in the latter twenties to revive Lenin's
older view of Russia alone against the united onslaught of world
capitalism probably helped to inhibit the development of com-
peting non-Marxist formulas. Furthermore, the increasing limi-
tations on free discussion of political matters aided in discourag-
ing such interpretations.

However, during the first decade and a half of the Soviet
regime, by far the most common reaction to the dilemma of
Soviet foreign policy was to deny that one existed. From Lenin
onward the Russian leaders maintained that the interests of the
socialist fatherland were identical with the interests of the world
revolution. If this argument was accepted, it became perfectly
logical to sacrifice the interests of any given Communist Party,
perhaps even to permit its total destruction, for the purpose of
strengthening the Soviet Union's position in world politics. Such
arguments cannot be dismissed as pure rationalizations. Under
the conditions of world politics there was very often some por-
tion of the world in which Soviet power interests coincided more
or less with revolutionary interests. At the same time and for the
same reasons, these interests conflicted in some other part of
the world.

Still another frequent response was the device of postpon-
ing the goal of world revolution to an increasingly indefinite
future. This device is a familiar one among social movements
that possess a goal difficult or impossible to realize, and it was
applied to other Bolshevik goals, such as the withering away of
the state or the achievement of a communist, as distinct from
a socialist, society. The doctrine of socialism in one country
represents in part a postponement of the world revolutionary
goal, as Trotsky insistently pointed out. Stalin himself did not
deny fids conclusion, but contented himself with the reply that
socialism in one country meant the creation of a socialist bul-

Revolution and World Politics 217

wark in a hostile capitalist world, and hence the strengthening
of the revolutionary forces.

Another and somewhat less frequently stated reaction to this
dilemma was the assertion that cooperation between socialism
and capitalism was possible during a given historical epoch.
Such a statement was the complement of the doctrine that the
interests of world revolution and the Soviet state were synony-
mous. That is, they were an approximately correct appraisal of
the interests of the Soviet Republic in a certain portion of the
world. However, no attempt was made in any Soviet writings
that have come to my attention to relate these views to one an-
other in the manner just described.

This chapter may be concluded with a brief consideration of
the widespread hypothesis that the rulers of Russia were at all
times following a "master plan" of world conquest, laid down by
Lenin. According to this interpretation, the toning down of revo-
lutionary propaganda and the abandonment of revolutionary ac-
tivities represented mere "tactical" retreats to a stronger position
and did not imply the abandonment of the original revolution-
ary goals.

The hypothesis of a master plan in Soviet foreign policy draws
attention to one portion of the truth: that the Soviets exhibited
a preference for revolutionary methods and professed to regard
agreements with capitalist states as temporary maneuvers. Never-
theless, the hypothesis of a master plan errs by taking at face
value the rationalization that there can be no conflict between
the interests of the international proletariat and the interests of
the Soviet Union in world -affairs. Likewise, it very seriously un-
der-emphasizes the role of pure empiricism, of simple trial and er-
ror, in the formation of Soviet foreign policy. There was a contin-
uing interaction between ideology and events, in which the goals
were modified as they began to appear unattainable. Even the
revolutionary actions themselves were to a great extent efforts
to adapt to existing circumstances and to seize opportunity by
the forelock, even if the opportunity may not have been as great
as the Bolsheviks hoped. If such a great proportion of Russian
Communist behavior has been mere tactics, the hypothesis of an

218 The Dilemma of Authority

over-all guiding strategy fails to provide a useful explanation. It
confuses Bolshevik hopes with Bolshevik policies. While their
hopes were one of the many important factors that determined
their policies, it is a mistake to elevate this one factor into some
sort of primal cause and to regard all other factors as mere per-
turbations and temporary disturbances.

PART THBEE

TODAY'S DILEMMA

10

New Wine in Old Bottles: The
Stalinist Theory of Equality

Stalins political victory .over the opposition was secure by
about 1930, despite the existence of scattered groups of opposi-
tion members still at large, some of whom, among the Trotsky-
ites at least, managed to maintain contact with their leader in
exile.1 Four years later Stalin was able to claim to the Party del-
egates assembled at the Seventeenth Congress that capitalism
had been eliminated in the USSR and that the dilemma of the
NEP had been solved. By that time the peasant had been forced
into the collective farms, and a large-scale industrial base, firmly
in the hands of the Party, was well on the way to completion.
From about 1934 onward a very definite stabilization of politi-
cal and economic relations in the Soviet Union may be perceived.
Nothing like the upheavals that took place during the shift from
War Communism to the New Economic Policy, or from the NEP
to the Stalinist program of industrialization and collectivization,
has occurred since the completion of the First Five Year Plan.
Even the Second World War failed to bring about any funda-
mental changes in the structure and function of Soviet society.
Though Soviet society has not been static from the thirties down
to the present day, we are justified in treating this period as a
more or less consistent segment in the development of Soviet
ideology and social institutions.

One outstanding characteristic of this era has been the en-
deavor to reconcile the older Leninist doctrine that the masses
are the masters of the country and of their fate with the fact of

222 Todays Dilemma

the concentration of power at the top levels of the Party. Lenin's
theory of a conspiratorial and disciplined elite provided a basic
starting point in this process. Under Stalin there is a recognizable
tendency for the reigning ideology to approach more closely the
actual facts of the distribution of power in the Russian state. At
the same time, this trend is checked by the fact that it has proved
possible to use the democratic and populist aspects of Commu-
nist ideology as a means for supporting and strengthening the
power position of the top Party leaders.

The justification of coercion

In Leninist ideology the chief justification of social coercion
was put in terms of class relationships. The dictatorship of the
proletariat was represented as a temporary measure necessary to.
crush the resistance of the bourgeoisie that would— and did—
continue after the workers* revolution. In the far more distant
future, wrote both Engels and Lenin, when mankind had become
thoroughly used to the new classless society, the state would
wither away, and coercive powers would no longer be neces-
sary.

The Stalinist justification of social coercion represents a
modification of the position taken by Engels and Lenin. Stalin's
doctrine was formulated in a series of ad hoc statements to meet
specific situations and does not by any means represent a logically
consistent whole. It has been left to the intellectuals to reconcile
these statements as best they could, and even to prove that Stalin
is the greatest of contemporary social philosophers.2

With the victory of industrialization and collectivization,
voices were raised within the Party suggesting that the time had
come to begin the liquidation of the coercive machinery of the
state. In 1933, in a speech announcing the successful results of
the First Five Year Plan, Stalin fired a rhetorical salvo at such
suggestions. He called once more for a strong and powerful dic-
tatorship of the proletariat in order to "scatter the last remnants
of the dying classes to the winds." "The state will die out/* he
continued, "not as a result of a relaxation of the state power, but
as a result of its utmost consolidation, which is necessary for the

Theory of Equality 223

purpose of finally crushing the remnants of the dying classes and
of organizing defence against the capitalist encirclement, which
is far from having been done away with as yet, and will not soon
be done away with/' 3 At the Party Congress the following year,
he spoke sarcastically of those who "dropped into a state of
mooncalf ecstasy, in the expectation that soon there will be no
classes, and therefore no class struggle, and therefore no cares
and worries, and therefore we can lay down our arms and retire
—to sleep and to wait for the advent of classless society." 4

Only two years later, on the occasion of the promulgation
of the Stalinist Constitution of 1936, Stalin announced the "fact"
that "there are no longer any antagonistic classes in [Soviet]
society." 5 Socialism, or the preliminary and lower stage of com-
munism, had by now been achieved in the USSR, according to
Stalin's declaration.6 This achievement, which supposedly in-
cluded the abolition of the exploitation of man by man and the
elimination of class antagonisms, was to be reflected in the new
Constitution. According to older Marxist theory, a relaxation of
the dictatorship of the proletariat might have been anticipated.
Instead, Stalin announced that the Constitution preserved the
"regime of the dictatorship of the working class." In almost the
same breath he pronounced the new Constitution the only thor-
oughly democratic one in the world.7

The alleged abolition of class antagonisms was used chiefly
as a justification for the absence of political competitors for the
Communist Party, whose dominant position was formally recog-
nized in the 1936 Constitution. Competing political parties, said
Stalin, were merely a reflection of class antagonisms. Since there
were no such antagonisms in the Soviet Union, there was no rea-
son, said Stalin, for the existence of competing political parties.
At this point Stalin restated the argument, made familiar by
Lenin, that democracy in capitalist countries was only "democ-
racy for the strong, democracy for the propertied minority,"
whereas in the USSR the regime guaranteed democracy for all.8
Stalin's arguments are widely repeated in the Soviet press today
and have found their way into textbooks on the political structure
of the Soviet regime.9

224 Todays Dilemma

Finally, in 1939, Stalin postponed the withering away of the
state to an even more indefinite future. Even after the achieve-
ment of Communism the state would remain, he declared, unless
the danger of capitalist encirclement and foreign attack had, by
that time, been eliminated.10 Stalin's statement represented a defi-
nite break with Leninist doctrine, which, following Engels, had
anticipated the disappearance of the state when society passed
from the socialist stage to that of communism.

The reformulation of the Communist theory of the state is the
product of at least three factors. One is the impact of political
facts, such as the continuation of a world of warring states, which
do not fit into the original doctrine. A second factor is the attempt
to use the doctrine to provide a moral justification for existing
internal political relationships, such as the dominance of the
Communist Party. A third factor may be called the "revolution-
ary conscience" of the leaders, that is, their desire to convince
themselves and others that the regime had achieved the prom-
ised benefits of a liberty greater than the liberty of capitalist
society. That the product of these forces is not a symmetrical
and logical system of political philosophy is scarcely surprising.
Equal contradictions of logic and fact may be found in the case
of any functioning political formula, including that of Western
democracy. Nor is it surprising that the Soviet political formula
is immune to logical attacks upon it by intellectuals nourished
in another tradition. It has long been recognized that the power
of ideas does not depend upon their logical coherence alone, but
also upon the social functions that they perform.

Freedom and the individual's role in society

In contrast with Western ideas, which begin with the indi-
vidual and extend to the group or to society as an instrument
serving the needs of the individual, the Soviet concept of free-
dom stresses the role of society and the group. The Russians are
fond of asserting that the full development of the individual's
capabilities and personality is possible only under the socialist
organization of society.

This stress on the role of society appears in the familiar Soviet

Theory of Equality 225

emphasis on the economic prerequisites of freedom. Contempo-
rary official Soviet ideology emphasizes the economic conditions
that are to be met before men have any free choices that they
can make. Stalin put the matter bluntly in a speech of 1935 that
has frequently been quoted:

If there is a shortage of bread, a shortage of butter and fats, a
shortage of textiles, and if housing conditions are bad, freedom will
not carrv you very far. It is very difficult, comrades, to live on freedom
alone. (Shouts of approval) In order to live well and joyously, the
benefits of political freedom must be supplemented by material bene-
fits. It is a distinctive feature of our revolution that it brought the
people not only freedom, but also material benefits and the possibility
of a prosperous and cultured life. That is why life has become joyous
in our country.11

The year before Stalin had enumerated the material benefits
supposedly brought by the regime: the end of the exploitation
of man by man, the end of poverty in the countryside, the end of
unemployment, and the end of urban slums.12 The Soviet press
today carries almost daily some variation on these themes.

Anti-Soviet writers frequently argue that the Soviets have
neither political freedom nor the material benefits claimed by
the regime, and draw the conclusion that the population is cowed
and unhappy. The more scholarly among them buttress this con-
clusion with comparative statistics, endeavoring to show that the
standard of living in the USSR is lower than that in capitalist
societies, or even that it has not markedly improved since Tsarist
times. Such analyses leave out of account the strong probability
that the level of expectation of the Russian masses is not the same
as that of the United States or Western Europe. Given a monopoly
of means of communication, and the absence of opportunities for
direct contact with the outside world, there does not seem to be
any insuperable difficulty in convincing the Russian masses that
they are better of! than their predecessors in Tsarist days and
their allegedly unfortunate brethren in the rest of the world.
However, where contact with other cultures becomes more or
less unavoidable, as in the case of occupation armies or officials
sent on duty to foreign countries, disillusionment often sets in

226 Today's Dilemma

rapidly, as shown by the high desertion rates and the renuncia-
tion of the regime by several of its diplomatic officers.

The same conception of the importance of the group appears
in the official doctrine concerning the liberties of the individual.
At first glance this doctrine resembles Western ideas of liberty.
Article 125 of the Soviet Constitution of 1936 guarantees to the
individual the rights of free speech, freedom of assembly, in-
cluding the right to organize street demonstrations, and a free
press. But the concluding paragraph adds that these rights are
secured by turning over to the workers and their organizations
the printing establishments, stocks of paper, public buildings,
streets, means of communication, and other material conditions
necessary for making these rights real. As matters work out on
this basis, the populace is free to organize demonstrations praising
Stalin, and that is the end of the matter.

The Soviet conception of freedom and the role of the indi-
vidual in society stands at the opposite pole from the Western
glorification of the individual who is willing to follow his own
conscience as a guide over and above the will of the group's
constituted authorities. At times minority opposition groups
among the Communists, including Trotsky, put forth such views.
But they have never become incorporated into the official doc-
trine. In this connection it is well to point out that the Soviet
doctrine is in some ways closer to the realities of social behavior
than Western individualist doctrines. One very rarely finds an in-
dividual who really stands alone in opposition to the group.
Nearly always the heretic or deviant receives comfort and support
from his membership in a subgroup of other heretics and devi-
ants, which enables him to withstand the pressures brought to
bear by the larger society.

The contrast between Western individualism and Soviet col-
lectivism appears clearly in differing conceptions of the role of
the artist in society. The Soviet artist is not permitted to set up
his own viewpoint in contradiction to that of the Party. Zhdanov,
one of Stalin's close associates, stated clearly the official Soviet
view on the position of the artist in the autumn of 1946: "Our
literature is not a private enterprise . . . We are not obliged to
give a place in our literature to tastes and manners that have

Theory of Equality 227

nothing in common with the morale and qualities of Soviet
people." Further, he adds, "If junk is produced in a factory," the
producer is punished, and a stronger penalty must apply to one
who "produces junk in connection with the education of human
souls," since this is a far greater sin.13

The significance of the group and the insignificance of the
individual who is not a member of the group appear in several
fashions. One is in the semimystical worship of the Party line.
Stalin expresses this viewpoint in typical language: "Our Party
alone knows where to direct the cause; and it is leading it for-
ward successfully."14 Another instance is the attitude that the
regime tries to encourage in the individual workers. Once again
Stalin puts the matter in simple yet vivid language: "Here the
working man is held in esteem. Here he works not for the ex-
ploiters, but for himself, for his class, for society. Here the work-
ing man cannot feel neglected and alone. On the contrary, the
man who works feels himself a free citizen of his country, a pub-
lic figure in a way. And if he works well and gives society his best
—he is a hero of labour and covered with glory." 1S It is hardly
necessary to repeat at this point that there is little or no reliable
information concerning the extent to which this statement actu-
ally describes the feelings of the rank-and-file Soviet worker.

Soviet ideology regarding the place and value of the individ-
ual in society is also revealed in Soviet legal conceptions concern-
ing guilt. In earlier days, certain Soviet theorists argued that
"bourgeois legality" ought to be replaced by the application of
repressive measures according to considerations of political or
revolutionary expediency, conceived in class terms, without any
claim that these repressive measures should correspond to indi-
vidual guilt. These views were included in a draft of a new
criminal code in 1930.16 Since that time there has been some
movement in the direction of formulating a conception of indi-
vidual guilt along lines prevalent in Western democratic coun-
tries. Thus, in 1937, in a speech that was the prelude to an
attack on alleged saboteurs, Stalin demanded an individual ap-
proach to each case instead of a mass witch-hunt.17

But in the same speech Stalin made several statements whose
effect was to sow suspicion and bring about the mass hysteria he

228 Todays Dilemma

supposedly wished to avoid. He warned that one could not trust
a person merely because he was an efficient worker or admin-
istrator who raised production; a spy or saboteur had to assume
such a disguise, and the saboteur with a Party card, said Stalin,
was the one to be most feared of all. One of the consequences of
this suspicion was a wave of mass purges, of which the famous
Moscow trials were only the froth on the surface. In January of
1938 the Party Central Committee attempted to call a halt, alleg-
ing that the mass exclusions that had been going on for several
months were unknown to the top leadership of the Party and vio-
lated its directives.18 This plea of ignorance can hardly be taken
seriously.

In 1938 another move took place toward an individual con-
ception of guilt and the protection of individual rights. A new
statute on the constitution of the courts included in the latter's
functions the safeguarding of the "political, labour, housing, and
other personal and property rights and interests of the citizens of
the USSR as granted by the Constitution/'19 If the numerous
accounts of those who have fled from the regime are to be trusted
on this point, this protection does not apply to those who are in
any way suspected of being enemies of the regime. These ac-
counts likewise give rise to considerable skepticism concerning
the application of the rights mentioned in articles 127 and 128 of
the 1936 Constitution: freedom from arrest (except by decision of
a court or with the sanction of the procurator); the inviolability
of the home (that is, freedom from search); and the privacy of
correspondence. These alleged rights represent a polite bow to
prerevolutionary Russian Marxist doctrines, which gave consid-
erable prominence to the liberal conceptions of the West They
may also be a gesture to the sentiments of the democratic pow-
ers, whom the Soviet regime was endeavoring to propitiate in
1936 in order to protect itself against attack by the Axis.

Relations of leaders and masses

Political ideologies usually formulate an idealized conception
of the relationship between the political leaders of the state and
the masses of the population.20 The current political ideology of

Theory of Equality 229

the USSR contains a number of the authoritarian and populist
elements of prerevolutionary Leninist doctrine, with some sig-
nificant additions.

Beginning with the authoritarian elements, the most striking
innovation since Lenin's day is the glorification of a single
leader. This glorification first became apparent about 1929 and
developed rapidly in subsequent years. In the thirties the term
vozhtf, or leader, similar in connotation to the German term der
Fuhrer, was applied to Stalin with increasing frequency. Curi-
ously enough, the equalitarian term of address, "Comrade," was
also retained. Postwar Soviet newspapers carry on their front
page nearly every day letters addressed to "Comrade Joseph
Stalin, leader and teacher of the peoples of the Soviet country,
and all of toiling humanity," or variations upon this theme. They
contain personal promises to fulfill or overfulfill some portion
of the Five Year Plan, or to carry out some other aspect of a
highly publicized policy of the regime. In a similar vein, all
good things for the past decade and a half, from victory in war
to the achievements of the arts and sciences, are attributed to
Stalin's personal qualities.21 In contrast to Lenin, who publicly
admitted errors of tactics on a number of occasions, since 1929
Stalin has cultivated the aura of infallibility. When matters do
go wrong, the blame is put upon scapegoats at various levels in
the administrative hierarchy. No public suggestion is ever made
by lesser lights that Stalin himself could be or has been mistaken
at any time. The break with the previous tradition is clear, since
as late as 1924 one may find in Stalin's speeches admissions of
doctrinal error and even of disagreements with Lenin, which
were of course generally known facts in the Party at that time.22

The development of the conception of a "monolithic" Party,
free of internal disagreements, has been described in an earlier
chapter. With the victory of this conception there was no longer
any room for honest differences of opinion within the Party. Karl
Radek, on trial for his life on January 24, 1937, unwittingly ex-
pressed this situation, saying, TPeople begin to argue about de-
mocracy only when they disagree on questions of principle. When
they agree, they do not feel the need for broad democracy, that

230 Todays Dilemma

goes without saying." 23 It is at this point that Soviet ideals diverge
most sharply from those of Western democracy, which gives lip
service, and often more than lip service, to the ideal of tolerating
a complete range of political opinions within its midst. Speaking
in 1937 of the struggle with the remnants of Trotskyism, Stalin
demanded that the Party should make clear that the "old methods
of discussion" could no longer be used. Instead, "new methods,
methods of uprooting and smashing" were called for.24 The conse-
quence was a wave of purges that spread deep into the fabric of
Soviet life. Stalin likewise coined the term "rotten liberalism" to
describe any public expression of tolerance for former enemies
of the regime.

The demand for "uprooting and smashing" opposite opinions
may be contrasted with Stalin's remarks in December 1925 at the
Fourteenth Party Congress, when he chided Zinoviev and Kam-
enev for demanding the expulsion of Trotsky from the Party.
On this occasion Stalin declared, "We do not agree with Com-
rades Zinoviev and Kamenev, because we know that the policy
of cutting off [deviant members] is fraught with danger to the
Party, that the method of cutting off, the method of bleeding—
and they do demand blood— is dangerous and contagious; today
we cut off one, tomorrow— another, the day after tomorrow— a
third. But by then, what will be left of the Party?" 25

The third aspect of the authoritarian portion of contemporary
Soviet political ideology is the increased recognition of the lead-
ing role played by the Communist Party. The Stalin Constitution
of 1936 recognized this situation formally in article 126 in the
familiar clause which states that "the most active and politically-
conscious citizens in the ranks of the working class and other
sections of the working people unite in the Communist Party of
the Soviet Union (Bolsheviks) which is the vanguard of the work-
ing people in their struggle to strengthen and develop the social-
ist system and is the leading core of all organizations of the
working people, both public and state." While statements of this
sort had been made on numberless previous occasions, their in-
corporation into the Constitution implies a somewhat more open
recognition of the locus of authority. In an even more direct

Theory of Equality 231

fashion the 1938 History of the Communist Party, a highly pub-
licized document still in widespread use today, gives open recog-
nition to the fact that the Stalinist revolution of forced indus-
trialization and collectivization was a revolution "from above."
The History calls this upheaval a "profound revolution . . .
equivalent in its consequences to the revolution of October 1917."
It continues: 'The distinguishing feature of this revolution is
that it was accomplished from above, on the initiative of the
state, and directly supported from below by the millions of
peasants, who were fighting to throw off kulak bondage and to
live in freedom in the collective farms." 26 This statement is one
of the rare occasions on which the role of the leaders in initiating
policy is openly and directly stated. Again, the way to an open
recognition of elite leadership may be found in Lenin's continu-
ous lashings of the sin of following the masses. Nevertheless, one
may observe that in the statement above the recognition of an
elite leadership is very carefully coupled with specific claims of
mass support. The Soviet leaders are a long way from stating
openly any philosophy of "the public be damned." It is highly
unlikely that this phrase would apply to the actual sentiments
of the top Soviet leaders, who are probably convinced that they
are acting in the best interests of their country.

Much more common than the open recognition of the elite
role played by the leaders of the state are statements empha-
sizing the close connection between the leaders and the led. Politi-
cal propagandists in the USSR are fond of quoting Stalin's use of
the Antaeus story from Greek mythology: the legend of the giant
who drew his strength from contact with the earth. The Bolshe-
viks, like Antaeus, says Stalin, draw their strength from contact
"with their mother, the masses, who gave birth to them, suckled
them, and brought them up."27 The mixture of paternalist au-
thoritarian notions with populist ones may also be observed in
the close of Stalin's famous speech, "Dizzy with Success," in
which he called a temporary halt to the collectivization drive:

The art of leadership is a serious matter. One must not lag behind
the movement, because to do so is to become isokted from the masses.
He who wants to lead a movement and at the same time keep in

232 Today's Dilemma

touch with the vast masses must wage a fight on two fronts— against
those who lag behind and against those who rush on ahead. Our Party
is strong and invincible because, while leading the movement, it knows
how to maintain and multiply its contacts with the vast masses of
the workers and peasants.28

In general, with the consolidation of the regime, the suspicious
attitude toward the masses expressed so frequently by Lenin has
disappeared from official statements. It has been replaced by an
increased emphasis on the role of the "vocation of leadership"
and by increased claims about the enthusiastic nature of mass
support.

In the official ideology concerning the role of the masses,
much of the original democratic and populist mythology has been
retained. Democratic centralism remains the theoretical basis of
the Communist Party, and is now extended to the soviet appara-
tus that exists alongside the Party.29 Official manuals still repeat
statements to the effect that socialist democracy means putting
into effect "the most democratic political forms and institutions,
securing the genuine and decisive participation of all the toilers
in the control of the government through universally elected and
genuinely universal and sovereign organs— the Soviets, which con-
stitute the political basis of the socialist state." M Self-criticism,
too, remains one of the alleged pillars of Soviet democracy.
According to official descriptions, self-criticism is the device
whereby the weaknesses and mistakes of official agencies and
individual officers are uncovered on the basis of a "free and busi-
nesslike discussion of the economic and political problems of the
country." 31

Whereas Westerners are accustomed to regard democracy
and dictatorship as opposite ends of the political spectrum, the
Soviets refer to their regime by the phrase, "the dictatorship of
the working class— the highest form of democracy." Lenin, it will
be recalled, developed a similar idea at the time of the 1905
revolution, when he put forth the slogan of a "revolutionary-
democratic dictatorship." According to contemporary Soviet argu-
ments based on Lenin, the dictatorship of the working class is
the highest form of democracy because it brings into the direct

Theory of Equality 233

control of the state the bottom levels of the masses, which under
capitalism or any form of bourgeois democracy remain economi-
cally and politically repressed.32 Since such arguments serve an
important political purpose in the Soviet Union, that of con-
vincing the masses that they are better off there than elsewhere,
and since they have at least a slight basis in fact, they are im-
pervious to any logical and factual demonstration of their in-
adequacy.

The democratic aspects of the Soviet "myth" are not without
repercussions on Soviet behavior. As in the days before Stalin's
accession to power, there have been several attempts by the top
leadership to reintroduce the elective principle into practice in a
wide sector of Soviet life. The rejuvenation of Party democracy
was one of the main points in Zhdanov's recommendations con-
cerning the reorganization of the Party made at the Eighteenth
Congress in 1939.83 Since the end of the war there have been
similar efforts to reorganize the collective farms and the trade
unions. New elections have been held for the Soviets. While
quantitative comparisons on this point are very difficult, it is a
fairly safe conclusion that this "democratization from above" is
even less effective than were parallel movements in the twenties.
For example, nearly ten years have elapsed since the last Party
Congress, despite the provision adopted in 1939 that such a
meeting should be held at least once every three years. Further-
more, although these local elections are by no means the mean-
ingless ceremonies they are sometimes said to be, there are very
strong limitations on the degree to which they reflect popular
sentiment.

In general, the power of the population to influence the policy
of the Communist Party leadership is about equal to the power
of a balky mule to influence its driver. The contemporary Soviet
press can be searched in vain for any evidence of open popular
criticism of the major aspects of the Party line. A derogatory
reference to the top Party leadership or any of its policies evi-
dently cannot appear in print and is likely to be reported to the
secret police if it occurs in private conversation. Thus the Soviet
population has no more choice concerning the road it will travel

234 Today's Dilemma

than the balky mule. At the same time, the masses are encouraged
to criticize the way in which policy is executed. The Soviet press
is full of complaints of inefficiency in the management of partic-
ular factories, particular collective farms, and similar matters.
While a number of these complaints are made by roving corre-
spondents of the major metropolitan newspapers or by regional
Party secretaries, and hence must be regarded as coming from
above, there are also a fair scattering of letters to the editors and
plaints of individual citizens concerning bureaucratic mismanage-
ment This stream of complaint appears to be carefully channeled
and directed by the Party for its own purposes.

The ways in which the democratic and populist aspects of the
present ideology may be used to perform the paradoxical func-
tion of supporting the authoritarian regime are numerous. Elec-
tions, in which the candidates are carefully picked by the Party,
have been utilized to clear the Soviets of suspected opposition
elements or persons otherwise undesirable from the point of view
of the central authorities. Self-criticism is often used to break up
bureaucratic cliques and knots of power with connections in the
local community that would otherwise weaken control from the
center. By channeling criticism against the execution of policy,
ways are provided for letting off steam and dissipating discontent
that might otherwise be directed against the policy itself. A cor-
responding technique in the United States would be the encour-
agement of attacks on OPA officials, their inefficiencies, paper
work, and bureaucratic obstructionism, in order to reduce dis-
content over rationing itself. For many people, and particularly
the uneducated masses, it is much more satisfying to blame an
immediate and visible local official than to attack a complex and
intangible social system.

There are some indications that the Party leaders, including
Stalin, are aware of this manipulation of democratic symbolism
for authoritarian purposes. The cultivation of the myth of the
'little man" who overcomes foils of the bureaucracy to solve
some major problem facing the state is such a pat device for
putting the bureaucrat in his place that it is difficult to believe
it is not done in a deliberate and Machiavellian fashion. The Ian-

Theory of Equality 235

guage of one example suggests the motivation. In 1937 Stalin
praised warmly the efforts of a woman from the rank and file,
calling her the typical "little man/' who had supposedly overcome
the bureaucratic machinations and Trotskyite intrigues of the
Kiev Party organization. "As you see/' Stalin concluded with an
obvious warning to the bureaucracy, "simple people sometimes
are closer to the truth than certain high offices. It would be
possible to bring forth tens and hundreds of similar examples." w
It may safely be assumed that in the Soviet regime, as in any
hierarchical organization, there are a large number of "little men"
with grudges against their superiors who can be utilized by those
at the top to control the latters' subordinates.

The Stakhanovite movement was used in a similar way as an
attack upon engineers and business managers who were skepti-
cal of plans for a rapid increase in industrial output. Speaking
to the Stakhanovites in 1935, Stalin remarked:

What first of all strikes the eye is the fact that this movement
began somehow of itself, almost spontaneously, from below, without
any pressure whatsoever from the administrators of our enterprises,
even in opposition to them. Comrade Molotov has already told you
what troubles Comrade Mussinsky, the Archangelsk sawmill worker,
had to go through when he worked out new and higher technical
standards in secret from the administration, in secret from the inspec-
tors. The lot of Stakhanov himself was no better, for in his progress
he had to defend himself not only against certain officials of the
administration, but also against certain workers, who jeered and
hounded him because of his "new-fangled ideas." 85

As the latter oblique reference to workers' objections to Stakhan-
ovite methods indicates, the mythology of the "little man" can
also be used to break up incipient clusters of opposition among
the masses.

It would be rash to assume that the democratic aspects of
current Soviet ideology are retained for purely Machiavellian
motives alone. A sincere desire to bring theory and practice
closer together may be one of the many factors behind the vari-
ous shake-ups that endeavor to introduce democracy from above.
Yet it should be stressed once more that it is not a democracy
which emphasizes the rights of the individual over those of the

236 Todays Dilemma

group. The emphasis on the group and the elitist aspects of
Communist theory combine with the populist and democratic
ones to produce a system whose major consequence is that the
solution of national problems is a task limited to those at the top
of the pyramid of authority. The entire system of beliefs is offi-
cially considered as one within whose confines all truth, including
that of the natural sciences, may be found. The elasticity that is
permitted by the denial that Marxism-Leninism-Stalinism is a
dogma is an elasticity that is permitted only to those at the apex
of the system. Since about 1930 anyone who has attempted to
reformulate any of the cardinal points of doctrine in opposition
to those at the top of the power pyramid has been branded as a
deviationist. The consequences are those pointed out by Mosca
toward the close of the last century: "When power rests on a
system of ideas and beliefs outside of which it is felt that there
can be neither truth nor justice, it is almost impossible that its
acts should be debated and moderated in practice." S8

The ideology of inequality

Under the Stalinist regime the tendency toward organized
inequality, which became evident soon after the November Revo-
lution, has continued. The class nature of contemporary Russian
society is a highly controversial question, to which there are
almost as many answers as there are investigators. The paucity
of recent statistical information that might throw light on this
question adds to the variety of answers.37 It appears that Soviet
society is characterized by a distinct status hierarchy, with wide
variations in income, authority, and prestige. As is generally
recognized, however, such differences are not necessarily the in-
dicators of a class system. There is a clear distinction in any
society between high and low rank in the political or economic
or military hierarchy, and membership in a high or low social
class. Not all generals are aristocrats, and not all aristocrats are
the holders of high political, military, or economic offices. Unless
one can demonstrate that the differences in authority, income,
prestige, and culture, which distinguish various sections of the
population in Soviet society, are by and large transmitted from

Theory of Equality 237

one generation to the next, it would appear wiser to refrain from
labeling it a class society. Since the present regime has been in
existence for only a little more than three decades, it is unlikely
that clear evidence could be found on this point, even if more
data were available than the Soviets choose to publish.

Some indirect evidence on the transmission of inequalities
from one generation to the next may be obtained from data con-
cerning the Soviet educational system. It is reported that nineteen
out of every twenty children in the USSR leave school before the
tenth grade. The major reason appears to be about the same as in:
capitalist societies: poor people need to have children earning
as soon as possible. Another, and less important, reason is the
drafting of children for the state labor reserves. In September
1946 the labor reserves took 434,000 boys and girls between the
ages of 14 and 16, whose educational opportunities were thereby
considerably reduced.88

These facts suggest that there are substantial obstacles in the
way of economic and social advancement through the educa-
tional ladder, and that most children will probably remain at
about the same level as that of their parents. The Party has fought
a slow rear-guard action against the trend in this direction. In
the late twenties it required that a major proportion of the uni-
versity students should be of proletarian origin. Then, in 1931,
as part of the attempt to increase the number of specialists, the
restrictions against the entry of the children of engineers and
technical workers into the universities were removed. Finally,
in the autumn of 1940, the system of labor reserves was created
and tuition fees introduced into higher educational institutions
and the last three grades of secondary schools, except for students
eligible for stipends on the basis of scholarship.39

The significance of these measures in limiting access to higher
education is, however, open to debate. Scholars with different
points of view employ the same figures either as evidence that
opportunity has declined markedly, or that there is no significant
decline. Evidence on the importance of the 1940 measures intro-
ducing tuition fees is inconclusive. Concerning the consequences
of the earlier measures, it may be noted that between 1935 and

238 Todays Dilemma

1938 the proportion of workers and their children in the institutes
of higher education fell from 45 per cent to 33.9 per cent, while
the proportion of employees and intelligentsia rose from 36.2
per cent to 42.3 per cent. Likewise, the proportion of peasants
rose from 16.2 per cent to 21.6 per cent.40 Thus the diminished
access of workers to higher education has been partly offset by
the increase among the peasantry. In my opinion the most sig-
nificant conclusion that emerges from this information is that
there is no longer any attempt to achieve equality by holding
back those children who get superior educational opportunities
through the social position attained by their families. Thus, in
the Soviet system there are some of the same opportunities for
the accumulation of advantages through the family as under capi-
talism. Equality of opportunity in the strict sense of an identical
starting line for everybody in the race for achievement does not
exist

The development of a system of organized inequality in the
USSR has been reflected in several ways in Communist ideology.
One of the most important was the repudiation of the goal of
equality of incomes, which had been put forth by Lenin before
the November Revolution and repeated by Bukharin afterward.41
For this repudiation there is, however, authority in Marx. Stalin
in 1934 bluntly told his followers, "It is time that it was under-
stood that Marxism is an enemy of equalization." Simple equali-
tarian ideas Stalin attributed to c<the remnants of the ideology of
the defeated anti-Party groups," which were now to be regarded
as a form of petty-bourgeois heresy. He poured out his sarcasm
on the "infatuation" of certain Party members with equalitarian
tendencies, calling them "Leftist blockheads, who at one time
idealized the agricultural commune to such an extent that they
even tried to set up communes in factories, where skilled and
unskilled workers, each working at his trade, had to pool their
wages in a common fund, which was then shared out equally."
"You know," he concluded, "what harm these infantile equali-
tarian exercises of our 'Left* blockheads caused our industry." ^
The trend toward the recognition of status differences was
continued in Stalin's famous slogan, launched the next year in an

Theory of Equality 239

address to the graduates of the Red Army academies, "Cadres
decide everything/' a slogan that is common in the Soviet press
today.43 Accompanying this slogan Stalin put forth an indirect
justification for the differential treatment of the leadership group,
saying that it was necessary to "learn to value people, to value
cadres, to value every worker capable of benefiting our common

cause." **

Since then the regime has taken pains to accentuate the ex-
ternal indications of status differentials. The resplendent uniforms
of Soviet diplomats come to mind as one example, together with
the sharp differentiation of ranks in the Red Army, which were
often a surprise to American soldiers during the recent war. In
1947 the engineering and technical staffs of various industries
were equipped with a series of uniforms that, in the case of the
coal industry, for example, distinguished nineteen grades of au-
thority and prestige.45 A similar system of orders and medals was
established for farmers on the collective and state farms.48

The official ideology concerning the class structure of the
USSR reflects the conflicting pressures that derive from the offi-
cially encouraged system of organized inequality and the desire
to remain loyal to some of the equalitarian ideals of Marxism.
These conflicting pressures also help to account for a number of
inconsistencies and contradictions in the official doctrine.

In 1934, on the occasion of the repudiation of "petty-bourgeois
equalitarianism," Stalin declared that socialism implied and re-
quired the abolition of social classes.47 Two years later, with the
promulgation of the Stalinist Constitution, which was widely
hailed as the constitution of a socialist society, Stalin altered this
view. According to his 1936 statements, which are repeated today
at frequent intervals in the Soviet press, Soviet society consists
of two classes, the workers and the peasants, who live with one
another in friendly and cooperative relationships, instead of
hierarchical and antagonistic relationships, such as those between
bourgeois and proletariat in capitalist society. Classes continue
under socialism, so the argument runs, but class antagonisms
have been abolished. The disappearance of class antagonisms is
claimed to be the result of the abolition of "the exploitation of

240 Today's Dilemma

man by man." 48 It is hardly necessary to point out in this con-
nection that the existence of the secret police and the concentra-
tion camps, which are occasionally referred to in the Soviet press
though the number of their inmates remains a carefully guarded
secret, is a sufficient indication of the continuation of social
antagonisms, whatever their source may be.

To the above-mentioned groups of workers and peasants the
Soviets usually add a third group, the intelligentsia. But, perhaps
as a reflection of the strength of the equalitarian tradition, class
status is denied to the intelligentsia in the official ideology.
According to Stalin, the intelligentsia has never been a class and
never can be a class. Instead, it was and remains a "stratum" ( the
saving power of words! ) that recruits its members from all classes
of society. In Tsarist times, the argument continues, the intelli-
gentsia recruited its members from the ranks of the nobility, the
bourgeoisie, and to a much less extent from the ranks of the
peasantry and the workers. However, in Soviet society, according
to Stalin, the intelligentsia is recruited mainly from the workers
and peasants.49

As early as 1936 between 80 and 90 per cent of the Soviet
intelligentsia were derived from the working class, the peasantry,
and "other strata of workers/'60 The phrase "other strata of
workers" is suspicious, for it suggests the possibility that a con-
siderable portion of the intelligentsia may be derived from sources
other than manual workers. The most likely group is that of office
workers, which, together with their families, in 1939 constituted
17.5 per cent of the total population of the USSR, or 29,700,000
persons.51 According to Molotov's speech at the Eighteenth Party
Congress in 1939, the Soviet intelligentsia was composed of fac-
tory directors, engineers and technical personnel, scientists,
teachers, artists, lawyers, military intelligentsia (presumably
officers), and others, to a total of 9,591,000 persons. This was,
with the inclusion of families, between 13 and 14 per cent of
the population.52

From Molotov's statement it is clear that the intelligentsia is
simply another word for those of high status in Soviet society.
Hence the assertion that it is not a class. And in justice to the

Theory of Equality 241

Soviet claim, it should be pointed out again that there is as yet
not much evidence to indicate that this group is a hereditary one.

The continuing vitality of the equalitarian portions of Marxist
doctrine appears most strongly in Soviet ideology concerning
equality of opportunity. In this respect Soviet ideals resemble
those that command widespread, if not universal, allegiance in
the United States. Speaking of the 1936 Constitution, Stalin de-
clared: "It does not recognize any difference in rights as between
men and women, 'residents' and 'non-residents/ propertied and
propertyless [in itself a significant comment], educated and un-
educated. For it, all citizens have equal rights. It is not property
status, not national origin, not sex, nor office but personal ability
and personal labour that determines the position of every citizen
in society/' 5S

Most literate societies have developed some rationale to ex-
plain and justify the position of the individual in society. Many
of the arguments are based upon blood, or upon a religiously
sanctioned order of nature. The idea that the individual's place
in society is determined by his own efforts is largely limited to
contemporary Western civilization. The Soviets have carried this
doctrine to its ultimate extreme, in that even the position of
women is made theoretically to depend upon their own achieve-
ments.

This conception of a universal equality of opportunity is a
new element in Marxist doctrine. Previously, the industrial
workers were regarded, in theory at least, as the elite, though
this doctrine was never put into practice on any wide scale. Now
the doors of achievement are supposedly thrown open to all.
The abandonment in 1936 of the election system which had given
a large advantage to the urban communities is another gesture
with the same meaning. Remnants of the older preferences, how-
ever, may be found in the contemporary ideology, which still
refers to the regime as the dictatorship of the working class.

Another facet of the Soviet doctrine of equality of opportunity
may be examined in connection with the Communist viewpoint
concerning the distinctions between mental and manual labor.
In a culture with a written language the distinction between

242 Todays Dilemma

physical and mental labor is nearly always associated with status
distinctions. In actual practice this is also the case in the Soviet
Union. No amount of propaganda about the dignity of labor has
been able to reduce mass desire to get into "desk work" and out
of manual-labor occupations. American engineers and other tech-
nical personnel in the Soviet Union have reported that Soviet
engineers prefer to stay in their offices and write out orders
rattier than go out and demonstrate directly to the workers. The
disappearing American tradition that the boss should be able to
walk into the shop, roll up his sleeves, and show the "green hands"
how the job really ought to be done, has never developed very
far in the USSR,54 Probably the absence of this tradition may be
traced to the generally sharper status distinctions of European
society.

The official Soviet ideology attempts to combat in a rather
halfhearted way the status distinctions between mental and
manual labor. The orthodox doctrine, less frequently repeated
of late, is that in the USSR "all the conditions are present for
the elimination of the distinction between manual and mental
labor." 55 This assertion may be explained by reference to specific
circumstances in Soviet society. As part of the drive against the
older equalitarian tradition, Stalin castigated the idea of leveling
downward, of reducing the cultural and technical level of engi-
neers, technicians, and mental workers to that of average skilled
workers. "Only petty bourgeois windbags can conceive Commu-
nism in this way," he said. He added: "In reality the elimination
of the distinction between mental labour and manual labour can
be brought about only by raising the cultural and technical level
of the working class to the level of engineers and technical work-
ers. It would be absurd to think that this is unfeasible. It is
entirely feasible under the Soviet system . . . where the working
class is in power, and where the younger generation of the
working class has every opportunity of obtaining a technical
education." 5S

The assertion that the elimination of distinctions between
physical and manual labor is just around the corner may be re-

Theory of Equality 243

garded as a continuation of the equalitarian tradition in a new
form. By stressing the opportunities for social mobility, the claim
can be made to have some color of reality. In this respect Soviet
and American official beliefs are very similar. In America, too,
the saying that the "sky's the limit" to personal achievement
serves to explain and to justify marked inequalities. Both the
United States and the Soviet Union have approached the point
where the saying has begun to diverge more and more from the
facts, although the USSR may not have traveled as far along this
road as we have. In both cases one may anticipate tensions and
difficulties in the efforts to match the official mythology with the
existing social structure.

The Stakhanovite movement has provided the background
for a similar elaboration of the doctrine of equality of oppor-
tunity. Alexei Stakhanov was, according to Soviet sources, an
ordinary coal miner, who in 1935 suddenly discovered that by
organizing his work and that of his assistants in a more efficient
manner he was able to produce fourteen times as much coal as
that indicated in the official norms. The entire apparatus of the
Soviet propaganda machine immediately supported Stakhanov,
who was received by Stalin and other dignitaries, until the move-
ment spread throughout the USSR. Stakhanovite workers now
constitute a new elite among Soviet workers. They may receive,
in addition to their high piece-rate earnings, great prizes ranging
from 50,000 to 100,000 rubles.57 Stalin, and following him the
Soviet press, have pointed to this situation as proof of the possi-
bility of getting ahead in the Soviet system, "where the productive
forces of the country have been freed from the fetters of capi-
talism."68

At whatever time the opportunities for social advancement
decline in the USSR—and there are many observers who declare
that the decline has already set in— the Stakhanovite legend will
probably play a still more important role. If adjustments to this
situation take place within the framework of the present ideology,
they are likely to take the form of a denial that the ladder of
achievement has become more difficult to climb, or that it has

244 Todays Dilemma

become broken at any point. The Stakhanovite legend can easily
be used to support such denials, just as the legend of the self-
made man in the United States, supported by occasional factual
instances, now performs this function in America.

The available data are not adequate to support more than
the most tentative conclusions concerning changes in the oppor-
tunities for economic, political, and social advancement in the
USSR.59 It is clear, however, that a very large proportion of the
past opportunities for advancement resulted from nonrepeating
causes, such as the elimination of the former ruling classes and
decimation of the professional and scientific personnel of Tsarist
times. Likewise, the rapid industrialization of the country sud-
denly opened up many opportunities for getting ahead by cre-
ating a demand for persons with business and technical skills
and by lifting them from the ranks of the peasantry and manual
workers.

On the other hand, the latter factor may well be considered
a continuing cause in the opening up of new avenues of achieve-
ment. As the industrialization of the USSR proceeds, the demand
for these skills will continue to grow. Plans have been made to
meet this situation. In 1939 the number of students in technical
schools was 945,000. It is planned that by 1950 the graduates of
these institutions will total 1,326,000. In addition, the number of
university students is supposed to increase from a 1939 figure
of 619,900 to 674,000 in 1950.60 If the same rate of increase is
maintained in the future, which is feasible in the sense that Soviet
industrialization is unlikely to reach any saturation point for
many years, and if these new positions are not monopolized by
those who have access to them through the superior advantages
of birth and position, the continuing industrialization of the
USSR may offset to some extent the elimination of the nonrepeat-
ing causes for social mobility.

Certain potential and probable lines of development in the
Soviet status system may also be inferred on the basis of the
cultural characteristics of the new intelligentsia. The abundant
complaints in the Soviet press concerning the weaknesses of Com-
munist indoctrination among this group, especially among engi-

Theory of Equality 245

neers, technicians, and scientists, indicate that the intelligentsia
is largely apolitical. Since they owe their position to the new
regime, it is unwise to infer that these complaints reflect actual
hostility. It is more likely that a considerable portion of the new
elite are patriotically interested in a strong state for its own sake,
and are attached to Stalin as one who has achieved this. At the
same time, they are repelled or perhaps bored by the mysteries
of dialectical materialism. They are not Hamlets. One thing at
least is certain: they are men of ruthless energy who have found
both a source of energy and an opportunity for its release in the
creative task of "socialist construction." In itself this is perhaps
the most important reward of status in the Soviet Union. Ciliga,
an anti-Stalinist to the core, tells the story of a man sent to
organize the health services of a little village in the province of
Leningrad. This person was deeply moved by the gratitude of
the collective farmers, who were stupefied by the thought that
the city had considered their plight and that the Leningrad city
hospital had furnished, free of charge, medical equipment and
beds for the village cr&che. Commenting on the crowd of peasants
gathered around the newly organized medical center, Ciliga's
friend remarked, "This is the first time in my life that I have
felt myself useful to the people." 61 In other cases, this sense of
belonging and achievement may have little to do with the direct
and immediate satisfaction of the needs of the people. Yet, in
contrast to the tired cynicism of other days and other cultures,
it undoubtedly has provided a tremendous creative stimulus that
is psychologically its own reward.82

There is also, however, evidence of a cultural separation of
the new holders of high status from the masses of the population.
In their leisure time the intelligentsia mingle more with one
another than with the uneducated. It requires no great insight
to perceive that a Soviet executive or scientist would find the
company of other executives and scientists more congenial than
that of a peasant or manual laborer. In this way different habits
of speech, manners, and dress are built up and transmitted from
one generation to the next. In addition, the tendency for families
of similar social station to live near each other in the same com-

246 Today's Dilemma

munity leads to the choice of marriage partners from families
with approximately the same background.63 All of these forces are
at work in the Soviet Union, and it is a safe prediction that they
will eventually result in the emergence of a class system resem-
bling in many ways that in the United States excluding the South.

11

The Organization of Authority

On paper the contemporary political structure of the USSR is
composed of two hierarchical structures, the Soviets and the
Party, both governed by the principles of democratic centralism
that supposedly reconcile the need for authority and discipline
with strong popular control over the leaders. However, on ex-
amining how the leaders are actually chosen and how policy is
formulated and decisions reached, it becomes apparent that, as
in most political structures, there is a great discrepancy between
the formalized rules of behavior and the actual patterns of
behavior.

Selection of leaders: the elective principle

Within the Party the selection of leaders, according to the
formal Party statutes, is supposed to be by election. Paragraph 18
of the latest .set of statutes, adopted in 1939, repeats the state-
ment that the guiding principle of the Party's organization is
democratic centralism, which is defined as meaning the elective-
ness of all leading Party organs from the bottom to the top. This
document declares (If 31) that the Party Congress elects the
Central Committee. In turn, the Central Committee chooses
from among its members the personnel of the Politburo (fl34).

There is no information concerning the actual operation of
the elective principle at the top level of the Party. But the im-
portance of other than elective principles in the selection of the
top Party leadership is disclosed by certain events that took place
between the Seventeenth Congress in 1934 and the Eighteenth
Congress in 1939. It has been computed that out of the seventy-

248 Today's Dilemma

one individuals elected to the Central Committee at the Seven-
teenth Congress, nine were executed, twelve declared "enemies
of the people'' (and probably executed), and twenty-four had
disappeared, accounting for forty-five out of the seventy-one.
By 1939, of the sixty-eight candidates (or alternates for member-
ship) in the 1934 Central Committee, fourteen had been executed,
two had committed suicide, nine had been declared enemies of
the people, and thirty-four had disappeared.1

At the lower levels of the Party hierarchy the elective prin-
ciple plays a considerable role in both theory and practice. First,
the formal provisions that are supposed to prevail may be briefly
indicated. The basic unit of the Party is the primary organization,
formerly called the cell. It may have from three to three thou-
sand members. In the case of the larger units, these primary
organizations are required by the Party statutes to elect officers
for a one-year period (fl 62). The election is supposed to take
place at a general gathering of the membership. The same applies
to the next higher unit of the Party hierarchy, the city, rayon
(similar to a county), or village organization. The gathering of
the membership of this unit is called a conference (IT 21). These
conferences, which are also supposed to be annual events, are
the occasion for the election of the administrative officers who
exercise power between conferences (fffl52, 53). The same
general principles apply to the next higher units in the Party
hierarchy, organs of the oblast9, krai, and republics (both Union
Republics and Autonomous Republics), with slightly longer time
intervals between meetings and elections.2

There is scattered evidence in the Soviet press that these pro-
visions for inner Party democracy are actually carried out. In
cases where Party democracy is working in the manner approved
and encouraged by the top authorities, the general procedure
appears to be for the local Party official to give a report of his
work, followed by a debate from the floor. (The Soviets attach
great significance to the amount of participation from the floor,
and usually report the number of persons who spoke in this
fashion.) In groups where the work is not satisfactory, the officer
or administrative committee is not reflected.3 Pravda for April 2,

Organization of Authority 249

1943, reported: "The Plenum of the Samarkand oblast' Committee
of the Communist Party of Uzbekistan debated the questions of
the committee's work during the spring sowing. Declaring itself
dissatisfied with the committee's management of the spring sow-
ing, the plenum removed from his work the first secretary of the
committee, Comrade Ibragimov, as unsuited for his work. Com-
rade Makhmudov was elected as first secretary." Or, again, it is
revealed that in the Gorky oblast9 in 1940, 92 per cent of the
Party primary organizations in recent elections approved the
work of their bureaus and officers as satisfactory, in comparison
with 68 per cent at the previous election.4 On the other hand,
to cite another random example, in the Donets oblast' in 1937,
65 per cent of the Party gatherings gave negative opinions con-
cerning the work of their committees and Party officers.5 This
instance may reflect the purge, in which the top echelon of the
Party encouraged the rank and file to attack the middle ranks.
As will be pointed out shortly, this apparent autonomy of the
grass-roots organs of the Party to determine their own affairs
has very strictly circumscribed limits.

During the war the number of electoral meetings and the
responsibility of the lower Party officials to their electors dimin-
ished sharply. However, the Party is making an effort to encour-
age the return to democratic methods. Pravda, in a prominent
front-page editorial (October 25, 1946), proclaimed: "One can-
not be reconciled with a situation where Party organizations
permit violations of the Statutes of the CPSU concerning the
time intervals and method of elections of Party organizations."
In a way this is rather ironical, since the basic provision of Party
democracy, the requirement that a Party Congress be held once
every three years, has been consistently violated. Of special in-
terest was the announcement, in the same editorial, that the
wartime system of appointing Party officials in the Party organ-
izations in the armed services was being replaced by elections,
which were then going on.

It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to estimate the
extent of this form of grass-roots democracy in the USSR. In
general, Soviet press accounts of electoral meetings along the

250 Todays Dilemma

lines quoted above have been much fewer since the war. Further-
more, the apparent and perhaps genuine anxiety of Pravda's
editors concerning the immediate restoration of inner Party de-
mocracy must not be taken too seriously. In their official state-
ments at least, the Party leaders display a certain form of naivete,
which takes the form of urging "one more last push and our
troubles will be over." For instance, similar statements are made
about the elimination of bureaucracy and "bureaucratic distor-
tions" of Party policy, which sound as though these problems
would be eliminated the day after tomorrow. Some of these
difficulties, however, have existed since the beginning of the
Soviet regime and appear to be an inherent feature of its basic
social organization.

Strong forces are clearly at work preventing the extension
of inner Party democracy and the free selection of Party leaders
even at the lower levels. The program of collectivization and
industrialization required enormous sacrifices and a sustained
effort from the population, sacrifices and efforts that continue
today. The lower levels of the Party, which are in continuous
close contact with the population, could not avoid sharing some
of the people's weariness and doubt, and could not help being
moved and "softened" by some of the tremendous personal sacri-
fices involved. It has often been observed that democratic organ-
izations have great difficulty in carrying out a long-term policy,
particularly one that requires unremitting sacrifices. Therefore,
it is not surprising that the power of the lower Party organizations
to choose their own leaders shows a repeated tendency toward
conversion into an autocratic system of appointment from above.

According to article 95 of the Stalinist Constitution, elections
to the local Soviets are supposed to be held every two years.
However, perhaps owing to the interruption of the war, no such
elections were held between 1939 and 1947.6 The first elections
to the Supreme Soviet were held in 1937, and the second in 1946,
although the Constitution provides (article 36) for only a four-
year term for this body.

It is common knowledge that in Soviet elections there is only
one candidate for each post. This arrangement has prevailed

Organization of Authority 251

since the elimination of other political parties shortly after the
establishment of the Bolshevik regime. Since there is only one
candidate, it is especially important to understand the nomi-
nating process. Article 141 of the 1936 Constitution states: "The
right to nominate candidates is secured by public organizations
and societies of the working people: Communist Party organiza-
tions, trade unions, cooperatives, youth organizations and cul-
tural societies." All of these organizations are carefully controlled
and their policies directed by the Communist Party. Except at
the lowest local level, the leaders are Party members. Therefore,
the mention of the additional organizations serves largely to
obscure the role of the Party.

There are, in addition, important limitations on the right of
these "public organizations and societies of the working people"
to nominate their own candidates. According to Soviet sources,
the "primary cells of social organizations (local committees of the
trade unions, cells of the Osoaviakhim [Society for the Defense
of the Soviet Union and for the Development of Its Aviation and
Chemical Industries], the MOPR [International Labor Defense],
etc.) do not have the right to nominate candidates. The members
of these primary cells take part in nominating candidates through
their rayon, oblast*, and republic organs, and also at general
meetings of workers and employees in factories, establishments,
and other . . . meetings." 7 In other words, at the lowest level
of these organizations, where Party representation and control is
thinnest, there is no possibility of putting up a candidate for the
local soviet. Candidates who are nominated in violation of these
rules must not, according to the same sources, be registered by
the local electoral commission.8

According to the official theory, the voters should have an
opportunity to pick and choose among the potential candidates
before the latter are put on the ballot. On March 1, 1936, Stalin
told the American newspaperman, Roy Howard, that although
there would be only one political party, there would be a lively
struggle among the candidates before the election. The voters
would question the candidates on their records, asking: "Did you
or did you not build a good school? Did you improve living

252 Todays Dilemma

conditions? Aren't you a bureaucrat? Did you help to make our
work more effective, our life more civilized?" 9 On the basis of
these criteria, Stalin added, the voters would choose the good
candidates and cross the bad ones off lists.

If this were the actual practice, it is almost certain that the
press would give wide publicity to these meetings, not only as
proof of the democratic nature of the regime, but also in order
to draw attention to the weaknesses it wished corrected by the
device of self-criticism. However, there are very few and very
meager accounts of such meetings. To be sure, occasional reports
in the Soviet press mention preelectoral gatherings of factory
workers in a given factory or meetings of other bodies for the
purpose of choosing a candidate. Thus, Izvestiya of January 14,
1947, tells how everyone's heart swelled with pride when one
Alexei Nikolaevich Kurakov was chosen to be a candidate for the
Supreme Soviet by the "collective" of a factory in Tula and the
representatives of 115,000 voters in the area. But it seems highly
unlikely that as large a group as a set of factory workers could
agree among themselves on a single candidate; and the account
becomes more suspect in view of the failure to report any dis-
cussion of alternative candidates.

Further evidence of the Party's control over the elections to
the Soviets may be seen in the disappearance of thirty-seven
candidates for the Supreme Soviet and their replacement by
others in the course of the 1937 elections. While this was a rela-
tively small proportion of the total number of candidates (over
1,100), as an excellent English authority on the Soviets points out,
it remains an indication of how the candidates were chosen and
demonstrates clearly the Party's real authority in this sphere.10

In sharp contrast with the practices of Western democracy,
the electoral campaigns in the USSR are the outstanding demon-
strations of national unity. The candidates, the press, and the
professional agitators vie with one another in proclaiming the
loyalty of the Soviet population to the Party and to Stalin. The
spirit and purpose of the elections from the Party point of view
was well expressed by Kalinin, Chairman of the Presidium of
the Supreme Soviet: "The Communist Party approaches the elec-

Organization of Authority 253

tions in order to throw before the masses its ideals, strivings, and
tasks, which stand before the builders of communism, to organize
the masses around these ideals, to infect the masses, and nourish
them on the striving to achieve communism; the Party calls upon
them, pushes them, and organizes them for socialist construc-
tion." u During the course of an electoral campaign, the Party
propaganda machine operates at a feverish pitch, if not without
occasional hitches that receive criticism in the press. Thus, dur-
ing the 1947 elections to the local Soviets, at one of the major
speechmaking and propaganda stations, a local theater in one
of the Kirghiz cities, none of the speakers knew the local Uzbek
tongue.12

As is generally known, these campaigns usually result in at
least 99 per cent victories for the slate of candidates chosen. Also,
an extraordinarily high percentage of the electorate goes to the
polls: in the 1947 elections for the local Soviets held in the Rus-
sian Socialist Federated Soviet Republic, the lowest figure was
99.81 per cent. Of those who did vote, between 0.40 per cent and
1.31 per cent (depending on the different types of Soviets) had
the temerity to vote against the official bloc.18 In the elections
to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR on February 10, 1946, 819,699
persons, or 0.81 per cent of those who came to the polls, opposed
the official nominees.14

It has been pointed out in this connection that these figures
do not represent a sudden jump, but the culmination of a trend.
The percentage of the electorate voting has risen as follows; 15

1927 50.2%

1929 63.5%

1931 70.9%

1934 85.0%

1937 96.8%

The writer cited sees in these figures proof of the democratic
nature of the Soviet regime and the increasing popular support
that it enjoys. These data may also, however, be interpreted as
evidence of the increasingly tight and effective control exercised
by the Party.

254 Todays Dilemma

Selection of leaders: the appointive principle

As the preceding section demonstrates, strong pressures exist
within the Soviet system which tend repeatedly to break down
the operation of the elective system in the selection of leaders,
to which the regime is committed by its ideology. Within the
Party there is a widespread tendency for appointment by co-
option to replace election.

In 1937 Zhdanov reported that 11.6 per cent of the members
of the oblast*, krai, and central committees of the Parties of the
various national republics had been coopted to membership. This
was an average; in several cases, more than a quarter of the
members had been coopted. Lower in the hierarchy, the per-
centage of members coopted was much higher, varying between
14 and 59 per cent for the city and rayon bureaus. While Zhdanov
is not clear whether this set of figures applies to the USSR as a
whole or only to a portion of it, he adds that in very widespread
areas more than half the members of the local Party organs had
been coopted. Special cases are of course even more striking.
In the city committee of Kharkov, only one third of the members
had been legally elected.18 In view of the fact that Party democ-
racy was held in abeyance during the war, it is probable that
the amount of cooption has increased rather than decreased
since then.

Even when regular elections take place, there are wide devi-
ations from the avowed ideal of examining and questioning each
candidate on his merits. In the same speech, Zhdanov gives a
revealing description of how, as he asserts, the choice of candi-
dates is usually made. Some days before an election is due, a
Party secretary writes down in a notebook what looks like a
good slate of candidates. Afterward there is a gathering behind
closed doors of the other Party secretaries, who go over the slate
until agreement is reached. When this happens, Zhdanov ob-
serves, it is nearly impossible to propose a candidate from the
floor of the general meeting.17 The whole process is cut and dried
and chokes off criticism by the Party rank and file.

In addition to the illegal device of cooption, there has grown

Organization of Authority 255

up an elaborate legal machinery of appointment. Stalin reported
to the Seventeenth Party Congress in 1934 that the Central
Committee had handled the selection of personnel for the gov-
ernment administrative and economic organizations.18 In 1939,
at Stalin's suggestion, the Party established a Cadres Adminis-
tration in the Party Central Committee, with corresponding units
in each of the republic, krai, and dblasf Party organizations.19

Perhaps the most clear-cut indication of the extent of the
operation of the appointive principle is the decree of the Party
Central Committee, dated August 22, 1938, which required that
the oblast* and krai committees, as well as the central committees
of the national Communist Parties, should submit for confirma-
tion by the Central Committee in Moscow the candidacies of the
first, second, and third secretaries of all rayon, city, and okrug
committees throughout the USSR.20 To conceive of a parallel
instance, it would be necessary to imagine that every candidate
for election to a county office in the entire United States would
have to be cleared by the Cabinet in Washington. The Cadres
Administration was established no doubt in order to introduce
somewhat greater system into this work.

It is highly likely that the Party Cadres Administration is the
agency responsible in many areas for the selection of proper
candidates for election to the Soviets, although the Russian sources
examined are not specific on this point. But it is perfectly obvious
that the Party does not scruple too much about the formal privi-
leges of those elected. In 1946 a member of the Politburo,
Khrushchev, then Party boss of the Ukraine, revealed that the
local (rayon) Party secretaries had changed 64 per cent of the
chairmen of the executive committees of the rayon Soviets during
the preceding year and a half.21 Even though these facts were
reported in a manner indicating sharp disapproval, the situations
are typical of many similar ones reported.

A high rate of turnover in the local leadership is a character-
istic of the Soviet regime. The daily press is full of complaints
that the local cadres sections of the Party move people around
indiscriminately from one job to another, without attempting to
match individual capabilities with the requirements of the job.

256 Todays Dilemma

Only too often, the Party press complains, when a man makes
a mess of one job, he is simply transferred to an equally unsuitable
post, and an equally unsuitable man is put in his place. This
fluidity may diminish as the regime succeeds in educating a
greater number of people with the requisite skills.

It is characteristic of the tensions and contradictions in Soviet
society that with the one hand the regime tries to restore inner-
Party and soviet democracy and to eliminate the practice of
cooption, while with the other hand it builds up an elaborate
administrative apparatus for the appointment of individuals to
all kinds of posts, including many that are in theory open to
democratic election. This contradiction is a continuation of the
long-standing conflict between the authoritarian and anti-authori-
tarian elements of Leninist doctrine. If the Russian masses are
incapable of achieving the socialist salvation by their own efforts,
as Lenin argued on numerous occasions, the obvious consequence
is the necessity for administrative control from above through a
self-chosen and self-perpetuating elite. Lenin recognized the
force of this argument and did not hesitate to apply it. But he
failed to recognize that this elite might have to continue its func-
tions after the achievement of the preliminary goal of socialism,
and that its operations would run counter to the objective of a
society in which the masses were the masters of their own fate.

Changes in the composition and recruitment of the elite

Ordinarily, a self-perpetuating elite leads to a situation in
which the composition of the elite remains stable for considerable
periods of time. But in the case of the Soviet Union, the changes
brought about by the assumption of political responsibility, to-
gether with the series of internal and external crises through
which the regime has passed, have brought about a marked
change in the composition of the elite during the past twenty
years.

In fact, there has been a nearly complete turnover in the com-
position of the Communist Party since the elimination of the
opposition elements. Figures published at the 1939 Party Congress
showed that 70 per cent of the members had entered the Party

Organization of Authority 257

after 1928.22 Since 1939 the number of Party members has more
than doubled. It is safe to assert, therefore, that, among the rank
and file, those with memories of the old conflicts and old doctrines
have been heavily outnumbered by new recruits.

So far as can be ascertained, the Communist Party at no time
consisted primarily of factory workers, although strenuous efforts
were exerted for a time to make it a real party of proletarians.
Instead, in the early days, it was weighted heavily in the direc-
tion of intellectuals, the "scribblers" of Krassin's contemptuous
phrase. Krassin, it will be recalled, was a former businessman
himself, who during the early twenties wanted to see more effi-
cient, businesslike men and methods introduced into the Party,
Since his day, his wishes have been fulfilled. As early as 1934,
Kaganovich, one of Stalin's top administrators, recognized the
change that had taken place. Whereas in the early days, Kagano-
vich said, the Party worker was primarily an agitator or propa-
gandist, now he knows production well. He has been through a
rich school of economic activity and "his viewpoint has become
wider, he has become a worker for the government." ^ In other
words, a large proportion of Party members had by 1934 become
government administrators, responsible for a small or large sec-
tion of the economic and political life of the country.

The figures on page 258, taken from protocols of Party Con-
gresses, reflect the sharp decline in proletarian membership be-
tween 1926 and 1934. No figures for 1939 were published
probably because they would have indicated a further drop in the
number of workers in the Party.

Insofar as the authorities concern themselves publicly with the
decline in proletarian membership, they attribute it to the alleged
circumstance that the disappearance of class distinctions in the
Soviet Union has made it unnecessary to maintain the rule favor-
ing ordinary factory workers in the recruitment of Party members.
This regulation, adopted in 1922 when there was considerable
perturbation about the corruption of the Party by alien elements,
was abandoned in 1939.2*

It is much more likely, however, that this decline in pro-
letarian membership is the result of an effort to recruit and absorb

258 Today's Dilemma

PROLETARIAN MEMBERSHIP OF PARTY a
(Per cent)

Year Working-class kernel13 Workers from production

1926

58.4

35.7

1927

57.8

40.8

1930

68.2

48.6

1934°

60.0

9.3

•See speech by Kaganovich in XVI S'ezd VKP(b), p. 83; and speech
by Ezhov in XVII S'ezd VKP(b), p. 303.

to This category apparently refers to men with working-class backgrounds
but not necessarily engaged at the time in manual labor. It presumably
includes "workers from production."

c The 1934 figures refer only to the delegates at the Party Congress and
would probably be weighted somewhat against workers from production.

into the Party the leadership group in all fields: political, military,
economic, and scientific, The Party has skimmed the cream and
taken the top leaders in every walk of life. At the same time, those
who came to the top in any field gravitated toward the Party as
the source of power and influence. Thus there has been a steady
increase in the proportion of factory directors who are members
of the Party. In 1923 only 29 per cent were Party members; by
1936 between 97.5 and 99.1 per cent belonged to it.25 A similar
process took place in connection with the Red Army, though it
has not been possible to obtain strictly comparable figures for
purposes of illustration.26

The change in the recruitment of the Party and the consequent
shifts in the composition of the elite of the USSR have had their
reflection in the ideas concerning how the Party ought to be re-
cruited. The principal change, as has already been pointed out, is
in a deemphasis of the industrial working class, reflected most
clearly in the dropping of the rules that gave preference to per-
sons of working-class origin who wished to enter the Party. As
Zhdanov pointed out in his 1939 speech introducing this change,
the old rules made it increasingly difficult for a worker to enter

Organization of Authority 259

the Party the more he increased his education or advanced to
more responsible positions.27 In a party that had already become
the ruling nucleus and wished to remain a monolithic ruling
group, the old viewpoint concerning the virtues of the industrial
workers was obviously out of place. It is probable that there was
considerable pressure within the Party itself to make this change.
Zhdanov quotes a former factory worker, who had become a Vice-
Commissar of Light Industry for the USSR after several inter-
mediate steps and promotions, as saying, "How did I become
worse as I was promoted from an ordinary worker to the head
of a shop? How did I become worse when they made me the
director of a factory? Why must I hunt up a larger number of
'recommendations' . . . than before, when I was an ordinary
worker?"28

In other respects the requirements of Party membership and
the paper regulations for the selection of the Soviet elite have
remained unchanged. Recent discussions of these regulations still
quote the paragraph, which was a bone of contention between
Mensheviks and Bolsheviks in prerevolutionary days, defining a
Party member as any person who recognizes the Party program,
works in one of the Party organizations, subordinates himself to
Party orders, and pays dues.

Perhaps because the prewar Party was overloaded with per-
sons holding high administrative positions, the Party has since
then tried to alter its social composition by broadening its mem-
bership base. Already by 1941 the membership had risen from the
1939 figure of 2,477,666 (including candidates) to 3,876,885
(including candidates).29 According to Pravda, December 9, 1947,
the current membership is 6,300,000, of which about one half
joined during the war and postwar years. Many joined on the field
of battle. Apparently, no figures have yet been published con-
cerning the changes in the social composition of the Party brought
about by this mass recruitment. However, it is safe to assume that
the Party has been interested in becoming more representative
of the population as a whole. In this connection, it is significant
that the Party is no longer frequently described as the "van-
guard of the working class." Instead, it is referred to as contain-

260 Todays Dilemma

ing "the best representatives of the working class, the peasantry,
and the intelligentsia."80

From about 1936 onward, the regime has shown a certain
limited willingness to permit non-Party elements to share elite
positions. The slogan of a bloc of "Party and non-Party Bolshe-
viks" was put forth in connection with the 1937 elections to the
Supreme Soviet. By the term "non-Party Bolshevik" is meant an
individual who is a loyal and enthusiastic supporter of the regime
without holding a Party card. In the 1946 elections to the Supreme
Soviet, there were 106 non-Party delegates out of a total of 682
in the Soviet of the Union, and 148 out of a total of 657 in the
Soviet of Nationalities.81 As has been pointed out, these delegates
had already been hand-picked by the Party. There do not appear
to be any grounds for concluding therefore, as some have done,
that these actions represent a slackening of the authoritarian con-
trols. It would be more accurate to interpret them as evidence
that the Party has achieved sufficient consensus in the population
to be able to find a number of enthusiastic supporters.

Formulation of national policy

Both the hierarchy of Soviets and the Party hierarchy culmi-
nate, on paper at least, in representative bodies that allegedly
formulate the guiding lines of national policy. The Party statutes
define the Party Congress as the supreme policy-making organ of
this body (Jf 29, 31). Article 30 of the Soviet Constitution de-
clares, "The highest organ of state power in the USSR is the
Supreme Soviet of the USSR," to which article 32 adds, "The
legislative power of the USSR is exercised exclusively by tie Su-
preme Soviet of the USSR/'

Only two Party Congresses have been held in the last sixteen
years, one in 1934 and one in 1939, despite the regulation that
sets three years as the minimum interval between Congresses.
Each of them has been a parade affair, in which policy has been
announced in long set speeches. There were no open debates or
discussions.

According to the bylaws, the Party Congress "listens to and
confirms"— a curiously accurate rendition of the actual situation—

Organization of Authority 261

the reports of the Central Committee and other major reports of
the central Party organization. It also has the task of reviewing
and changing the Party program (not altered since 1919) and the
Party statutes. Finally, the Congress supposedly determines the
tactical line of the Party on basic matters of current politics
(JT 31), According to the general principles of Party organization
(f 18), which include the "periodic responsibility of Party organs
before their Party organizations," the Central Committee is re-
sponsible to the Party Congress and executes the policy laid down
by the Congress. However, unlike its predecessors which gave
detailed outlines of tactics and strategy to be followed, the last
Party Congress of 1939 confined its policy resolutions to an out-
line of the Third Five Year Plan (interrupted by the war) and
did not tie the Central Committee's hands in any other way.

Despite the very limited role of the Party Congress in policy
formulation, certain of the older forms of democratic participa-
tion were maintained at the last Congress and may also be re-
tained when and if another Congress is called. The Party ordered
the publication of the "theses" or main points that would be made
by some of the major speakers some months before the Congress.
In addition, the main Party daily, Pravda, carried a discussion
section on these theses.82 In some instances, writers questioned
the major points of the theses. Thus, in Pravda, February 4, 1939,
two writers questioned the elimination from the new Party statutes
of the regulation that gave preference to accepting persons of
proletarian origin as new members of the Party. Asserting that
the boundaries between workers and peasants were not com-
pletely erased, a viewpoint that was contrary to some of Stalin's
official statements, these writers asked if this new provision were
not premature. Such questionings, however, were rare. They
were ignored in the official summary of the discussions, which
claimed that the Party unanimously approved the theses although
it made many suggestions about details.88

Since the end of World War II the sessions of the Supreme
Soviet have been used as a forum for the announcement of major
national policies in a manner that is reminiscent of the Party
Congresses. The resemblance cannot be pushed too far, how-

262 Today's Dilemma

ever, since Stalin has not addressed the Supreme Soviet. (In fact,
he has made no long and detailed speeches since 1939.) It is
worth noting that there has been no comprehensive review of
Soviet policy as a whole, before the Supreme Soviet or any other
body, since before the recent war.

The sessions of the Supreme Soviet have given observers the
impression of a well-rehearsed play. A study of the stenographic
reports of the sessions confirms this impression. It seems that each
person who speaks has a set part to play. There are "bit" parts
for making procedural motions, and longer parts with formal
speeches. Everything proceeds smoothly without objections or
interruptions from the floor or the chair until unanimous decisions
are adopted.

The elections that take place have obviously been arranged
beforehand. For instance, at the 1946 meeting, the first stage in
the "choice" of the People's Commissars was a note of formal
resignation signed by the chairman, J. Stalin. Immediately after-
ward a minor delegate made a brief but flowery speech, ending
with the motion that J. Stalin be asked to present to the Supreme
Soviet a list of People's Commissars. Four days later at a subse-
quent session, there was read to the assembled delegates a second
note from Stalin, in which he asked for the confirmation of a list
of Ministers. (The title Commissar had been changed to Minister
in the meantime by the Supreme Soviet. ) At the head of the list
and as chairman of the Council of Ministers was the familiar name
of Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin. Following this were eight more
members of the Politburo as vice-chairmen of the Council of
Ministers. In several cases these members were chosen for addi-
tional portfolios. After two brief speeches by delegates from the
floor in favor of the list, it was adopted unanimously.8* In the
case of other elections the process was practically identical.

This procedure, with its insistence on open uniformity and
unanimous decisions, is an inherent part of the present political
ethos. If one may judge from their actions, nothing could be
further from the intentions of the present leaders than the crea-
tion of a political system in which free play is given to opposing
political forces. Unlike the Congress of the United States or the

Organization of Authority 263

British Parliament, the Supreme Soviet is by no means an arena in
which these forces are intended to clash, with some consensus
and compromise emerging from the conflict. No doubt a limited
form of clash does occur among men who hold to a common set
of fundamental principles (as happens for the most part in Con-
gress and in Parliament) ; but in the Soviet Union it occurs behind
the closed doors of the Politburo.

The preceding remarks should not be taken to imply that there
is absolutely no discussion at the sessions of the Supreme Soviet
Such discussion does take place, in which various sections of the
government may be made the objects of sharp criticism. Internal
evidence indicates, however, that the outcome of such discussion
is never for a moment in doubt once the session has opened, and
that here too the actors are playing parts that have been well
learned beforehand.

By way of illustration, the discussions concerning the 1947
budget of the USSR may be examined. On October 15, 1946,
a detailed budget was presented in a long speech by the Minister
of Finances to the Supreme Soviet. The following day equally
detailed comments on the budget were presented by the chairmen
of the budget commissions of the Soviet of the Union and the
Soviet of Nationalities (the two chambers of the Supreme Soviet) .
In the two latter speeches certain changes were suggested, which
resulted in identical totals. While the figures are difficult for a
nonstatistician to compare, a number of tie specific changes sug-
gested were identical in both speeches. If the speakers had
learned the contents of the address by the Minister of Finances
only at the time it was given or only shortly beforehand, it would
have been impossible to present these two detailed and har-
monious sets of comments. All the speeches were obviously pre-
pared and synchronized well in advance.

In addition to the comments on the budget presented by the
Minister of Finances, the leaders of the budget commissions in
the two houses made a number of sharp criticisms concerning the
work of several government ministries. The heads of these minis-
tries were also called upon to speak in the course of the debate
on the budget. Those subject to censure conceded their faults in

264 Todays Dilemma

tones of mea eulpa, although in a few cases explanations of ob-
jective conditions that had made efficient operation difficult or
impossible were added. It is worth noting that no ministry headed
by a member of the Politburo came in for criticism. Such criti-
cisms serve several purposes: first, the obvious one of calling
attention to inefficient work; secondly, to permit the masses to
blow off vicarious steam by attacking an unpopular bureaucrat;
and finally, to call public attention to real difficulties that stand
in the way of improvement.

When the debates were finally concluded, the budget was
voted with the suggested changes made by the budget commis-
sions of the two houses of the Supreme Soviet. The cumbersome
procedure of voting the budget section by section was used, al-
though the vote was unanimous in each case. Some requests for
additional appropriations, made by individual delegates, were
referred to the Council of Ministers for further consideration.85

From the foregoing typical examples, it is reasonably clear
that the major representative bodies, the Party Congress and the
Supreme Soviet, do not play a creative role in the formulation of
policy on a national scale. In what group, then, does this power
lie? It is widely assumed that Stalin, either personally or with
the members of the Politburo, exercises the supreme power in the
USSR. Though this hypothesis is probably correct, it must be
conceded that there is no direct evidence for this conclusion in the
Russian sources. Perhaps less is known about Stalin's personal
role in the decision-making process, or about the operations of
the Politburo, than about any comparable group of men in history.
The Politburo is scarcely mentioned at all in the contemporary
Soviet press. All of the decisions that have been reached by this
body and that are made known publicly are issued in the form of
decrees by the Party Central Committee. In international diplo-
matic circles there is no continuous flow of information about the
currents of opinion, personal qualities, and idiosyncracies among
the members of the Politburo, corresponding to the lifeblood of
diplomatic dispatches concerning the French and British cabinets
and in the past the bulk of the diplomatic data on the prewar
regimes of Germany and Japan.

Organization of Authority 265

The assertion that Stalin represents the apex of the Soviet
political pyramid depends, therefore, very largely on indirect
evidence. In earlier chapters the various steps were traced by
which he rose to power and eliminated his competitors. The
purges during the middle and late thirties give good grounds for
concluding that ever since the elimination of Trotsky, Bukharin,
and a host of others, continuous opposition to Stalin's policies,
even in the secret sessions of the Politburo, would be fraught with
no little physical danger. All the Soviet leaders of any prominence
who have seriously opposed Stalin are either dead, in prison, or
have made their peace with him publicly. Together with the evi-
dence concerning the impotence of other bodies in the decision-
making process, these facts provide safe grounds for concluding
that Stalin, perhaps with a few associates, holds the power of
making and remaking policy in the USSR.

Rare and occasional glimpses into the mechanisms by which
decisions are reached at the highest level in the Soviet Union
indicate that Stalin has the authority to make significant decisions
on his own. The German records of the negotiations leading up
to the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact and continuing to the out-
break of the Soviet-German war, shed some light on the processes
of policy formulation at the highest level in the Soviet regime.
Although Molotov conducted most of the direct negotiations with
the Germans, he appears to have been acting within the bounds
of general instructions, since at no time did he introduce any
shift in policy during the course of his extended interviews with
the German envoys. In at least one instance Molotov changed his
position sharply within a half hour after the close of an interview,
explaining that in the meantime he had reported to the Soviet
Government It seems very likely, as the German envoy con-
cluded, that in this short space of time Stalin intervened to re-
verse the original position.86 On another occasion Stalin on his
own authority, and in the presence of the German envoy, altered
the draft of a diplomatic note to be sent to the Polish ambassador
in order to make it acceptable to the former.87 In still another
instance Molotov announced that he would have to consult Stalin
about the draft of a communiqu6, whereupon Stalin replied that

266 Todays Dilemma

the original draft was much too frank and wrote out a new ver-
sion in his own hand.38 All in all, the relationship between Molo-
tov and Stalin is shown by these documents to be the relationship
between an inferior and a superior.

This conclusion agrees with those reached by high American
officials who have had protracted negotiations with the Soviet
leaders. Former Secretary of State James F. Byrnes, who con-
cedes that he does not know how much the Politburo influences
Stalin, concludes that Stalin accepts the recommendations of the
Politburo when he has no strong convictions of his own. But
Mr. Byrnes is certain that when Stalin has strong convictions of
his own, the Politburo supports him. The basis of this assertion
is that Stalin was able in conference to make numerous important
decisions promptly, without any apparent necessity for consulting
his colleagues. Mr. Byrnes recalls, however, two important cases
in which Molotov, or perhaps even others, influenced Stalin to
change his mind: the German reparations and the rejection by
Russia of the offer of a forty-year alliance.89 General John R.
Deane, head of the American military mission in Moscow from
1943 to 1945, who had more continuous contact with the Soviet
leaders than Secretary Byrnes, but at a slightly lower level, has
no doubts that Stalin was the supreme authority. In General
Deane's opinion, based on almost identical grounds with Mr.
Byrnes's, there was never the slightest indication that Stalin
would have to consult his government about important deci-

sions.40

In the Soviet Union itself there has developed over the years
an official mythology, composed of two completely contradictory
elements, concerning Stalin's role in policy formulation. On the
one hand, Stalin is portrayed as merely first among equals. This
viewpoint was at one time cultivated by Stalin himself. In com-
menting on his famous article, "Dizzy With Success" (1930),
which reversed temporarily the process of rapid collectivization
in agriculture, Stalin asserted that he had been instructed by the
Central Committee to warn erring comrades about dangers in
the collective-farm movement. He went so far as to add: "Some
people think that the article Dizzy With Success' was written on

Organization of Authority 267

Stalin's personal initiative. That is nonsense of course. It is not
for the purpose of permitting anybody, whoever it may be, to
exercise his personal initiative in matters of this kind that we
have our Central Committee." 41

On the other hand, there is the myth of Stalin's infallibility, in
which he is portrayed as the great leader, responsible for Soviet
policy in every phase since the foundation of the regime. The
Short Biography of Stalin, published in 1944, and the History of
the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, which together make
up the staple elements of indoctrination for Parly members,
portray Stalin as responsible for the major victories of the Civil
War and all subsequent achievements of the regime. In its con-
cluding paragraphs, the Short Biography asserts: "In all areas of
Socialist construction his orders form the guiding principles of
action. The work of Comrade Stalin is exceptionally broad: his
energy truly amazing . . . Everybody knows the invincible,
crushing strength of Stalinist logic, die crystal clarity of his
mind, his steel will, his devotion to the Party, his burning faith in
the people and love for the people." 42 On the whole, the picture
of Stalin as the infallible leader has tended to replace the picture
of Stalin as merely first among equals.

There is evidence that the Politburo takes upon its shoulders
the task of deciding a tremendous number of questions of both
major and minor import. Kaganovich complained in 1930 that the
Central Committee was swamped with requests for information
and directives of the most serious political import.43 As that sec-
tion of the Central Committee responsible for political matters,
the Politburo would be charged with making these decisions. On
another occasion Kaganovich revealed that in connection with
the Stalingrad tractor factory, the Politburo heard reports on the
situation every five days.44 A refugee from the regime, Alexander
Barmine, reports on the basis of his own experience that the
Politburo spent several hours discussing a small contract made
with the Germans by one of the minor Soviet importing organiza-
tions, and that it kept a continuous watch upon the work of this
organization.45 Many other detailed matters are treated in a
similar fashion.

268 Todays Dilemma

It is evident, therefore, that the agenda of the Politburo at
any one meeting or series of meetings cover a broad range of
subjects, upon which some kind of decision has to be reached
rather promptly. In this connection, it is significant to note the
way in which the Politburo occasionally stumbles into a decision
of major importance. Like many administrative institutions in the
United States, the Politburo to some extent meets situations as
they arise through a series of small day-to-day decisions, rather
than by following a carefully elaborated policy and plan. It is
perhaps inevitable that this should be the case where a concentra-
tion of power means that a vast number of decisions has to be
made in a short period of time. Kaganovich again illustrates this
situation for the USSR in his comments on the reform of the
educational system. If his account can be accepted as more or
less correct— and it fits with the other evidence just mentioned—
the reform of the educational system arose from Stalin's dis-
covery that education was proceeding badly in a single school
From there the matter developed into a study of textbooks and
the way they were used in the USSR, and then to much broader
matters. Kaganovich commented, probably correctly, that he
could quote numerous examples to show how very often, out of
what at first sight seemed to be a simple question, "a simple
communication or letter," a great decision affecting all branches of
Soviet activity arose.46

No doubt this pattern of reaching decisions upon a host of
individual and superficially unrelated matters has an important
effect upon the relationship between ideology and action. At first
glance, one might anticipate that the procedure of reaching
numerous apparently petty decisions would diminish the impact
of ideology upon action. In the United States, at any rate, it is
a common complaint that high administrative officers never have
time to think things through, and that, as a consequence, policy
is often made on a short-range basis, resulting in numerous in-
consistencies.

At the same time, the study of a series of decisions reached
by an administrative group over a period of time frequently
reveals an unsuspected and consistent pattern of apparent motiva-

Organization of Authority 269

tion and goals. This might be said of the American Supreme
Court, provided the time span is not too long, or of the State
Department, or any important federal agency. The comment also
applies with even greater force to any series of decisions made
by the Soviet government. The major periods of Soviet history—
the era of War Communism, the NEP, the era of large-scale col-
lectivization and industrialization, and the present period— show
a great deal of consistency in both foreign and domestic policy.

The presence of such a pattern suggests that the members of
the decision-making body were probably operating on the basis
of a definite series of ideological assumptions. There seems to be
justification for considering this set of assumptions as the effective
or operating ideology of the group. Quite naturally all members
of the group will not share this set of assumptions to the same
degree, although in the case of the present Politburo it is probable
that the core of commonly accepted beliefs is considerable. It is
necessary to distinguish, of course, between the effective and
actually believed ideology and that which is officially promul-
gated. At times, and perhaps a large proportion of the time, there
may be a very marked divergence between official propaganda
and the actual beliefs of the ruling elite. But in this problem we
are verging on larger questions, whose tentative answer had best
be left to the conclusions at the end of this study.

Formulation of local policy

The local units of the Party enjoy a certain amount of freedom
in the search for the best ways and means to carry out the
policies determined by the top Party leadership. They of course
do not have any power to formulate a policy differing from that
of the top leadership; nor was it ever intended that they should
have such power. The Soviet daily press is full of accounts that
encourage the local Party organizations to use their own initiative
in solving problems, always remaining within the framework of
general directives laid down by the Central Committee. Thus, on
June 23, 1943, to cite a typical account, the plenum of the Mos-
cow oblasf committee discussed (1) the preparation for sowing
and harvesting; (2) the degree of fulfillment of the government

270 Today's Dilemma

plan for livestock breeding in the kolkhozy of two rayons in the
oblast'; and (3) the work of the city and rayon committee in
accepting new Party members during the first five months of
1943.47 Particularly in the postwar years there have been a num-
ber of accounts telling how local Party organizations cleared up
some local supply or administrative tangle that had prevented
the local factories or farms from operating effectively. These are
written in a "booster" tone that would be quite familiar to many
Americans.

Though encouraging this variety of local initiative, the Party
maintains an elaborate control over the decisions and policies of
its constituent units. The protocols of the meetings of each organi-
zation are read by the next highest organization, which has the
power to annul incorrect decisions. While a good many of the
regional Party organizations do not always read the reports in
detail, if one may judge from complaints in the Party press, the
system on the whole evidently provides tight controls. The Party
Central Committee frequently annuls decisions of subordinate
units, reprimands them, and directs them to reconsider questions
that in its opinion have been improperly handled.48 Almost every
other issue of the Party Central Committee's journal devoted to
organizational questions, Partiinoye StroiteTstvo (Party Construc-
tion), contains a reprimand along these lines.

It has always been intended that the Party should be a highly
centralized organization. It is the local Soviets, rather than the
Party, which according to Communist theory are intended to pro-
vide outlets for the creative initiative of the masses. According
to Stalin, the Soviets constitute a "school of government for tens
and hundreds of thousands of workers and peasants, and in this
way bind the masses to the regime."49 Kalinin considered it a
most important task "to construct the organs of power in such a
way that they give the maximum opportunity for the collective
demonstration of the creative abilities of the peasant and work-
ing masses/' 50

The 1936 Constitution gives a broad, if somewhat vague, grant
of power to the local Soviets for the exercise of this initiative.
Article 97 states: "The Soviets of Working People's Deputies

Organization of Authority 271

direct the work of the organs of administration subordinate to
them, ensure the maintenance of public order, the observance of
the laws and the protection of the rights of citizens, direct local
economic and cultural affairs and draw up the local budgets."
There are at present more than 70,000 local Soviets with over
1,300,000 deputies,51

The city Soviets are called upon to administer a broad category
of public services, which in Soviet terminology are lumped to-
gether under the name of the "communal economy." This includes
the management of the local housing fund, the city transportation
system, water supply, sewage, baths, laundries, barber shops,
electricity, gas, telephone establishments, and a number of other
matters bearing on the local appearance and convenience of the
city.52 In addition, they are supposed to manage local industry,
assist in the development of the local production of consumers'
goods and local trade in such goods, and take steps to ensure the
local food supply. All of these functions have to be carried out
within the framework of the local five year plan, which in turn
is geared in with the general Five Year Plan of the USSR. In the
larger Soviets there are several subcommissions that deal with
each of these special activities. The subsections are expected to
draw into their work the more active and interested citizens who
show a desire to participate. From this enumeration it is clear
that the local Soviets handle those aspects of government activity
with which the ordinary citizen comes in frequent contact in
daily life.53

Since the war the press has laid great stress on the efforts made
by the Soviets to solve their problems with local resources, which
of course diminishes to some extent the general strain of recon-
struction on the central organs of the economy. Reports from
newspapers indicate that the war has had the effect of increasing
somewhat the responsibilities and range of activities of the local
Soviets.

The village or rural Soviets (sePsovety) have wider responsi-
bilities than those in the cities and at the same time approach
more closely the status of mere administrative agencies of the
central government. They have, in addition to propaganda duties,

272 Todays Dilemma

the responsibility for seeing to it that the government's grain
collections are carried out promptly and smoothly. They are fre-
quently referred to as the "organizers of the struggle for grain."
As the administrative authorities immediately superior to the
collective farms, they are held accountable for the effective organi-
zation of labor forces at the rush time of the harvest, and for the
delivery of grain in good condition, and on time. Furthermore,
they are warned by the press, in thinly veiled language, that they
must see to it that none of the grain is held back and that the
peasants devote the proper amount of time to the collective as-
pects of collective farming, instead of spending their energies on
their privately owned plots.

Despite the widespread range of their activities, there are
strong limitations on the autonomy of the local Soviets. Their
financial independence is extremely limited, since all of their
revenues and a considerable portion of their expenditures are
determined by higher authorities. The budget of a local soviet
travels upward through the hierarchy of Soviets, receiving modifi-
cations at each stage of the proceedings, until the final figures
are determined for the USSR as a whole.54 Furthermore, in ac-
cord with the principles of democratic centralism, the actions
taken by the local Soviets are subject to review by higher bodies
in the soviet hierarchy in the same way that actions taken by local
Party organizations are subject to review by higher echelons in
the Party. There are occasional complaints in the daily press that
the higher levels of the soviet hierarchy have been too free in
their habit of annulling the decisions of the lower Soviets.55

Within the local soviet itself, there is a strong tendency for
power and responsibility to become concentrated in the hands of
the executive committee. Both before and after the 1947 elections
to the local Soviets, the daily press carried numerous editorial
complaints about the way in which the meetings of the Soviets
had been postponed or omitted altogether. Izvestiya also re-
ported56 that since 1939 many executive committees had not
made reports on their activities before a meeting of their soviet.
During 1946, according to another report, the sessions of the krai
and oblast' Soviets in the RSFSR were called at the times set by

Organization of Authority 273

the constitution of this major republic in only seven oblast's and
one krai, out of a total of thirty oblasfs and six krais in the Rus-
sian Republic.57

No doubt the greatest limitation on the Soviets as expressions
of the popular will derives from the controls exercised by the
Party. Contemporary Soviet writers make no secret of these
controls. "The Party/' says one legal writer, "directs all organiza-
tions of the toilers, including the Soviets." This remark is ampli-
fied by the statement that "the Party gives the Soviets directives
that set the political line and direction of their work." 5S

The control is not exercised through majorities, even though
the Party representation in the Soviets greatly exceeds its propor-
tion to the population. The proportion of Party members in the
Supreme Soviet is high; of the 1,339 members of the Supreme
Soviet elected in February 1946, 1,085 belonged to the Party,
while only 254 were non-Party individuals.59 Among the local
Soviets the proportion is much lower, although it has increased
considerably since the last election held in 1939. Of the total
number of local deputies (766,563), 46.8 per cent in 1947 were
Party members or candidates and 53.2 per cent non-Party.60 In
the 1939 elections, only 31.41 per cent of the deputies were Party
members or candidates, while 68.59 per cent were non-Party.61
Because the Party group within a soviet is required by Party
discipline to act as a unit on each question that comes before the
soviet, the power of the Party is greater than numbers alone would
indicate. Finally, since no organized opposition is tolerated, and
since the Party controls every aspect of Soviet life from the con-
tents of the daily newspaper to the operations of the local sport
club, its power within the Soviets is really overwhehning.

Since the completion of agricultural collectivization in the
early 1930's, there has been no problem of opposition to Stalin's
policies manifesting itself through the Soviets. At that time there
was a certain amount of opposition, though its strength is difficult
to estimate. Soviet sources claim that a number of rural Soviets
went over to the kulaks during the struggle over collectivization.62
In the thirties the Soviets underwent considerable pressure from
the Party to cleanse their ranks and reorganize their work. This

274 Todays Dilemma

was soon completed, after which it was possible for the authorities
to assert: "The Soviets in their very essence must be the organs
for bringing to life the general line of the Party, [and] its con-
ductor to the full depths of the toiling masses." 68 Since then there
have been no indications that the Soviets have offered any form
of opposition to the policies of the rulers.

Popular checks on the policy-makers

In the Soviet regime as now constituted there does not appear
to be any institutional device which the masses can use as a pre-
ventive check on the top policy-makers of the state.64 Even the
rank and file of the Party is now excluded from putting pressure
on the Central Committee by the failure to hold Party Congresses
and by the rule, included in the 1939 Party statutes, that general
discussions of Party policy can be opened only by the Central
Committee. The masses are therefore reduced to forms of passive
resistance against unpopular policies. After the peasants had been
reorganized on a collectivist basis, this possibility was greatly
limited. During the past decade and a half there has been no
instance in which popular resistance has forced a major policy
change upon the top leadership.

At the lower levels of the Party hierarchy, it appears that
the rank and file has the opportunity to exercise some influence
over the execution of policy. As has already been pointed out in
connection with the election meetings of these lower echelons of
the Party, unpopular or inefficient local officials may at times come
in for severe criticism or replacement.

The Soviet daily press carries at fairly frequent intervals de-
tailed accounts of examples of deviations from inner Party de-
mocracy at the level of the oblast' committee or lower. In the
general pattern of these accounts two features stand out. In the
first place, the restoration of democratic processes does not take
place from below, but requires the intervention of some higher
echelon in the Party hierarchy. In the second place, the restora-
tion of Party democracy is connected in these instances with some
major policy that the Party is promoting at that moment. As a
rule, the claim is made that the absence of democracy at the local
level is causing a "distortion" of Party policy.

Organization of Authority 275

One or two illustrations will give the flavor of these incidents.
A Pravda correspondent who witnessed a gathering of the Rostov
oblast' committee reported that committee members took up the
entire time of the meeting with long-winded speeches, with the
result that "self-criticism spoke only in a half -voice." In some
cases the chairman shut off speakers who attempted to make
critical observations on the work of the committee. Drafts of the
resolutions to be discussed were not presented to the participants
until the affair was almost over, and the entire session was con-
ducted in a disorganized manner, with many members of the
presidium absent during some of the most important reports.65
In another instance, a rayon conference appears to have revolted
spontaneously against its leaders and attempted to elect new ones.
The next higher Party organization tried to suppress the revolt,
annul the elections, and reinstate the old leadership. A major
issue appears to have been the crude and domineering personality
of one of the local rayon Party leaders, who is quoted as saying,
"What Jupiter may do, an ox may not do." The Pravda corre-
spondent translates the classical allusion for his readers by the
phrase, "What one person may do, another may not," and uses
the whole event for a piece on the widespread existence of such
violations in the Altai section of the Party organization.66

Among the local Soviets the same pattern of criticism may be
observed; this criticism starts off vigorously but tends to die out
in many areas until higher authorities step in to galvanize the
mechanism into action once more. Izvestiya for April 11, 1947,
reported that the Council of Ministers of the RSFSR had decided
to "activate the local Soviets" by requiring the executive commit-
tees to make reports to these bodies during the months of January
through June. As has been pointed out above, in many cases no
such reports had been made during the interval from 1939 to 1947.
From the numerous accounts in the press of meetings that have
been held, it is clear that the executive and administrative officers
undergo some embarrassing questioning and heckling from the
deputies. The complaints range over a wide area of problems,
from why it is impossible to buy a glass of cold beer in the sum-
mertime at the local brewery to disorder in the management of
collective farms. As one example among many, at the twenty-

276 Todays Dilemma

second session of the Moscow city soviet, the head of the housing
unit of the soviet, who was in charge also of repair work, received
a tongue lashing from the deputies.67 It is not difficult to imagine
the vicarious pleasure of many Muscovite citizens at this event,
since the chronic Soviet housing shortage has been much more
acute since the war. In this fashion the local Soviets serve as a
means to blow off steam and allay popular discontent.

Several purposes in the Party's efforts to maintain these ele-
ments of grass-roots democracy may be suggested. These actions
may be directed toward achieving as wide a degree of mass sup-
port as possible, by encouraging the sense of participation in the
procedures of governing and preventing the local monopoly of
power by an unpopular local tyrant. Another apparent purpose is
to break up the formation of local cliques, or "protective alli-
ances/' between the local Party leader, the head of the local soviet,
the local factory director, and the chairman of the collective farm.
The growth of these personal cliques deprives the central authori-
ties in Moscow of their ability to control the life of the country.
These tendencies toward local independence and autonomy have
always been a serious problem in Russia. Both the positive de-
vice of the Party and the negative one of the secret police are
necessary to check such trends. Yet, when all this has been pointed
out, there appears to be a genuine residue of what Western liber-
als would recognize as democracy at the lower levels of the Party.
It operates within the narrow limits of criticizing and suggesting
improvements concerning the execution of policy, without touch-
ing the policy itself, and in putting forth leaders who can execute
Party policy more effectively. Within these limits there appears to
be spontaneous action, instead of the dull, cowed obedience por-
trayed by some anti-Soviet authors. Thus, the retention of the
prerevolutionary goal of inner Party democracy, though highly
circumscribed, may continue indefinitely as a feature of Soviet
ideology. As it is currently practiced, it serves the double purpose
of fulfilling certain psychological needs of the masses while at
the same time it tends to strengthen the power of the Soviet elite.

12

The Bureaucratic State

Status in the bureaucratic system

Among Lenin's professed goals in 1917 were the destruction of
bureaucracy, the performance of official duties at workmen's
wages, and the elimination of "official grandeur." Since that time
the Soviet regime has become what may be fairly described as
the bureaucratic state par excellence of modern times. In most
large-scale social units down to the present time, the state has
included in its activities only a small proportion of the total
activities of the society. Likewise, the administrative services
of the state have been correspondingly restricted to limited areas
of social activity, defense, the maintenance of public order, and
the provision of certain social services. In the Soviet Union, on the
other hand, the state has taken over a wide sector of human ac-
tivity. Nearly every employable individual in the USSR today is
in the position of an employee of the state. The factory worker
and the factory director are directly dependent upon the state for
their income. For all practical purposes, a nearly identical situa-
tion prevails on the collective farm, though there will be occasion
to note certain disintegrating forces at work there which have led
to the expansion of the limited area outside the state's control. The
scientist and artist in Soviet society are first and foremost servants
of the state, and have recently been sharply reminded of this
fact.

If we are not to call every working person in the USSR a
bureaucrat, and thus lose all meaning for the term, it is necessary
to make some distinctions. In Soviet society as a whole one may
distinguish four major groups that have their counterparts in any

278 Today's Dilemma

contemporary industrial society. To some extent these distinctions,
like many attempts at classification, are somewhat arbitrary, a
matter about which there is no reason for concern if the classifica-
tion serves its purpose. These major groups are ( 1 ) the series of
persons who give the orders and make the economic and political
decisions necessary for the functioning of the regime; (2) the
providers of scientific knowledge and artistic skills; (3) the per-
sons who perform the tasks of recording and checking necessary
in a modern industrial society; and (4) the providers of manual
labor. Numerous subdivisions exist, of course, within each group.
For the purpose of this analysis, the Soviet bureaucracy may be
said to include the first three groups, on the grounds that they
perform in varying degrees a function of control and regulation.
Before presenting any tentative figures on the composition of
these groups, it is desirable to show more clearly the nature of
these distinctions in Soviet society. Perhaps the clearest distinc-
tion of all is between manual workers and non-manual workers,
that is, in effect, between ordinary workers and bureaucrats.
Manual workers are called rabochie, and non-manual workers are
called sluzhashchie, which might be translated "employees," or
even "desk workers." These terms are used in legal discussion and
census classifications and may be presumed to represent, at least
roughly, general status distinctions. The distinction between
manual and non-manual workers is, to be sure, not a new one.
Originally, the Bolsheviks endeavored to reverse the status posi-
tions of these two social groups. By now the superior position of
the desk workers is recognized, although it would not be accurate
to assert that all desk workers enjoy a position superior to that
of all manual workers. Before the war desk workers had a six-hour
day, while manual workers had a seven-hour day, although both
groups frequently worked much longer hours. Salary scales and
the method of deterinining salaries distinguish between manual
and desk workers. The latter had special access to rationed sup-
plies during the war. Sabotage laws single out the desk worker
for special responsibility. He is also subject to special regulations
about members of the same family working in the same govern-
ment office.1

The Bureaucratic State 279

Within the category of desk workers there are numerous
status grades and distinctions. Merely to discover all of these
gradations, together with the formal and informal insignia that
set one group off from the others, would require an intensive field
investigation and personal experience in the Soviet bureaucratic
structure that is out of the question today.

On the basis of Soviet law, it is possible, however, to point
out certain major groupings. Although there is controversy in
Soviet legal circles over the exact meaning of the term, the Soviets
distinguish an officer group (dolzhnostnoye litso) within their
administrative system. According to one source, the officer group
includes the personnel who are given responsibility and power
to issue rules and regulations. In other words, the officer group
includes those who have power over persons, while it excludes the
persons who fulfill purely technical functions. For example, the
administration of a factory or other government establishment
has, in the person of the director or chief, a number of powers
in addition to the obvious one of the general management of the
enterprise. These powers include the representation of the organi-
zation before other organizations, the right to issue rules and
regulations, the right to hire and fire subordinate personnel, the
right to inflict disciplinary penalties, authority over credits and
bank balances, and the right to sign checks and other financial
documents. In a number of branches of the Soviet administration
titles, ranks, and grades (the word used is klassnyi chin, recalling
the divisions of the Tsarist bureaucracy) were introduced for
members of the officer group, both before and during the recent

war.2

Overlapping the so-called officer group is another group, called
the "representatives of power" (predstaviteli vlasti). The 1944
commentary to the criminal code of the RSFSR, without defining
the "representatives of power,'* enumerates them as including the
deputies of law-making organizations, the members of the govern-
ment, chairmen and members of Soviets, court officials, army
officers, and officials of the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the
Ministry of Government Security (the secret police), insofar as
the latter are fulfilling the functions of state power.8 It is clear

280

Todays Dilemma

STATUS DIVISIONS IN THE SOVIET BUREAUCRACY '

Category

No. of persons

A. Top level

Executives of administrative, public health and cul-
tural institutions 450,000

Directors and other executives of state industrial

establishments, shops, and departments 350,000

Party leaders b 44,000

Total 844,000

B. Intermediate level

Chairmen and vice-chairmen of collective farms,
and collective dairy and livestock department su-
perintendents 582,000
Directors of machine and tractor stations and of
state farms, and state farm dairy and livestock su-
perintendents 19,000
Heads of producers' and cooperative organizations 40,000
Store managers and department heads 250,000
Managers of restaurants and other public eating

places 60,000

Miscellaneous groups of intellectuals (inclusive of
the intelligentsia in the armed forces) c 1,550,000

Total 2,501,000

C. Intermediate level, but having little or no power of

command over persons

Engineers and architects (exclusive of directors and
other executives of establishments and factory
departments 250,000

Agronomists 80,000

Additional scientific personnel for agriculture (land
surveyors and persons specially trained in land
improvement, scientific farming, and stock
breeding) 96,000

Scientific workers (professors, university faculty

members, and others) 80,000

Art workers 159,000

Physicians 132,000

Economists and statisticians 822,000

Judiciary and procurator staffs (judges, procurators,

investigators, and others) 46,000

University and college students 550,000

Total 2,215,000

The Bureaucratic State 281

Category No. of persons

D. Lower level

Intermediate technical personnel (technicians, con-
struction chiefs, foresters, railroad station mas-
ters, and others) 810,000

Teachers 969,000

Bookkeepers and accountants 1,617,000

Intermediate medical personnel (first aid practition-
ers, midwives, and trained nurses) 382,000

Cultural and educational workers (journalists, libra-
rians, club managers, and others) 297,000

Deputies of local Soviets d 1,281,000

Total 5,356,000

Grand total of all groups 10,916,000 e

* Unless otherwise indicated, the figures used here have been taken from
Molotov's report to the Eighteenth Congress of the Communist Party,
XVIII S'ezd VKP (b), pp. 309-310.

b Stalin, O Nedostatkakh Partiinoi Raboty, p. 28.

c This may include the secret police or a portion thereof. Army officers
in 1937 constituted only 80,000 persons (White, Growth of the Red Army,
p. 378).

d Denisov, Sovety, p. 41.

e Rough confirmation of these figures may be obtained in the following
way, using the figures given in E. Davidov, "Naseleniye" (Population),
Botshaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, p. 68. In 1939, according to Davidov,
the Soviet labor force was about 29 million (figure reached by interpola-
tion). With their families, this group constituted 84.3 million persons
(rabochie and sluzhashchie added together). Dividing 84.3 by 29 gives
a figure of 2.9, or the average size of the family. (The estimate of 2.41
given by Lorimer, Population, pp. 226-227, appears to be too small on
the basis of these data.) Multiplying the grand total of the bureaucratic
stratum, 10,916,000, by 2.9 to get the number of persons in this group, in-
cluding family members, gives the figure of 31,656,400. Since the total
number of sluzhashchie with family members is only 29,738,484, the grand
total of 10,916,000 is probably somewhat too large. 10,000,000 might be a
more accurate approximation, since there is probably some overlap in the
categories in the table. However, the size of the family in bureaucratic
circles is probably smaller than that obtained by averaging the family
size of rabochie and sluzhashchie together. Hence it may be that the con-
version factor is somewhat too large. In the absence of better data, I am
forced to let the figures stand with a repetition of the warning that they
are rough approximations.

282 Today's Dilemma

from this list that the group called the "representatives of
power" contains a rather heterogeneous collection of persons hold-
ing widely varying status positions that range from the highest,
Stalin himself, to an ordinary agent of the secret police or a mem-
ber of a village soviet.

Still other distinctions may be made on the basis of a general
knowledge of the functions performed by various groups in the
Soviet political and economic system, which need not be set out
in detail at this point. But an attempt may be made to present the
major categories or status divisions in the Soviet bureaucracy,
using as the main source of information Molotov's report on the
Soviet intelligentsia presented to the Eighteenth Party Congress
in 1939. The grouping given below is only a very rough approxi-
mation. Changes have undoubtedly taken place as a result of the
war, although it is likely that the major result of the war in this
connection was merely to swell the ranks of the bureaucracy,
without producing far-reaching changes in the proportions of the
various status grades. Since truth emerges more readily from
error than from confusion, the tentative breakdown on pages 280-
281 may serve as a basis for preliminary analysis.

Presumably groups A and B (with the possible exception of
the last item in B) belong to the officer group or the "order
givers" in Soviet society.

The providers of scientific knowledge and artistic skill fall for
the most part in group C. A case could be made for placing the
cultural workers of group D in this category also, although it
appears that their work is of such routine nature that it would be
better to place them in the fourth classification. This fourth cate-
gory, group D, contains as its core the persons who perform the
tasks of recording and checking which are necessary for the op-
eration of a modern complex society.

Members of this bureaucratic stratum, together with their
families, constituted in 1939 close to 17 per cent of the total popu-
lation of the USSR. At first, this figure appears to be a large one,
when one reflects that in the United States in the same year the
total number of employees of the federal and local governments,
including schoolteachers, amounted to only 3,820,000 persons, or

The Bureaucratic State 283

a little less than 3 per cent of our population at that time. But it
is clear that the large size of the Soviet bureaucracy is also due
to the fact that many functions are performed by the Soviet
government, either directly or indirectly, which in the United
States are left to private enterprise. The Soviets themselves ap-
parently include in their conception of the bureaucracy or con-
trolling apparatus only those persons listed in the A level of the
table, together with the large "miscellaneous" group included in
the B level. Their own figure for the number of persons working
in government establishments in 1937 was only 1,743,300.4

The principal remaining group in the Soviet population, the
manual workers and their family members, was divided between
the collective farmers, with 75,600,000 persons or 44.6 per cent,
and the urban and rural workers, with 54,600,000 persons or 32.2
per cent. The rest of the population, 5.7 per cent, was divided into
the minor categories of individual peasants, cooperative craft
workers, and others that need not concern us here.5

Status differences within the bureaucracy are also indicated
by means of salary K differentials, although there are very little
data on this point. Salary scales are set by the Council of Ministers
of the USSR, either in the form of a definite scale or as maximum
and minimum rates. In the latter case, power is delegated to indi-
vidual ministers or to the heads of various organizations to set
salary rates for specific duties, taking into account the qualifica-
tions of the worker, the type of work, and so forth. For certain
categories of workers, scales are established in relation to the
education or scientific qualifications involved, as well as in rela-
tion to the location of the work. A distinction is made between
work in the city and work in the country. In the case of famous
scientific specialists who are given administrative tasks, special
salaries are paid.6 To some extent these specialist salaries are
probably a matter of individual bargaining between the scientist
and the administrative agency concerned.

In addition to salary differentials, status distinctions within
the Soviet bureaucracy are made clear through such familiar de-
vices as honorary titles, medals, uniforms, grants of living quar-
ters, free railway passes, and the like.7 As readers of the American

284 Todays Dilemma

newspapers know, the use of uniforms, medals, and titles increased
considerably during and after the war. Soviet writers themselves
point out that the war brought about an increase in the authority
and responsibility of government officials.8

To some extent this open recognition of status differentials
may reflect the sentiments of power holders who have long been
aware of the social distance that separates them from the mass of
the population. Glimpses of the actual sentiments of this group
may be obtained through official criticism of the bureaucracy.
In 1934 Stalin spoke sharply of the type of executive "who rend-
ered certain services in the past, people who have become aristo-
crats, who consider that Party decisions and the laws issued by
the Soviet government are not written for them but for fools." 9
In a typical postwar editorial, Izvestiya found it necessary to urge
the Soviet official to pay more attention to complaints and declara-
tions that were finding their way in a steady stream into their
offices, reminding them that live human beings were behind such
pieces of paper.10

More important than the personal sentiments of the holders
of power as a factor influencing the open acceptance of status
differentials is the objective need for such differentials in a
modern industrial society. Indeed, even the simplest preliterate
societies make use of some types of status distinctions, while a
few of them have elaborated such distinctions to an extremely
complicated degree. The complex organization of a modern in-
dustrial society requires for its functioning that certain persons
should hold authority and responsibility, while others should,
with a minimum of friction, carry out orders and directions. The
open recognition of such a need, reinforced by an official ideology
of inequality, can do much to reduce such frictions and to con-
tribute to the smooth functioning of the social system. Although
the USSR has traveled a long way toward the open acceptance of
status distinctions, certain limiting factors, which will be con-
sidered shortly, prevent the complete acceptance of a hierarchy
of authority.

At various times a number of attempts have been made to
systematize the routes and techniques of advancement through

The Bureaucratic State 285

the various status grades of the Soviet bureaucracy. It appears
that all of them have run into the resistance of well-established
informal routes and techniques, and have for the most part
shattered against this resistance. In part, the failure to achieve
such systematization may be the result of the continuing shortage
of administrative skills in relation to the demand for them created
by the Soviet social system. As the experiences of the American
Civil Service during the war indicated, such a demand for skills
makes it difficult to establish by administrative order a pattern
of advancement that will be adhered to, and opens the door for
the individual with the ability to make use of personal contacts
and other informal channels— the "operator" in American bureau-
cratic slang. Official Soviet complaints speak of the selection of
officials for various posts on the basis of personal ties, "personal
acquaintances and friends, persons from the same place, de-
voted to an individual and masters at the art of praising their
boss/711

The various Soviet ministries have special deputies in charge
of work with cadres, whose task it is to see that the proper man
is selected for each task. But it is found that such work is widely
neglected, or turned over to second-rate officials.12 So far the
various ministries have had no outstanding success in breaking
up these groupings, according to the Party daily.13

There exists now in the Soviet Union a special organization,
similar to the American Civil Service Commission, whose task it
is to introduce systematic arrangements into the Soviet bureau-
cratic apparatus. On June 5, 1941, the Government Staff Com-
mission (Gosudarstvennaya Shtatnaya Kommissiya) was set up
under the Council of People's Commissars and given the task of
working out a general classification of all government jobs and
their corresponding salaries. The Commission was further ex-
pected to get rid of "artificially created" sections of the political
and economic administrative machine, and to eliminate duplica-
tion and all kinds of superfluous organizations. It was given
powers of inspection as well as the right to order the dissolution
of any specific section.14 While it is impossible to evaluate the
work of the Commission accurately without greatly extended

286 Todays Dilemma

study, the stream of self-criticism in the daily press suggests that
it has not wrought any fundamental changes.

Policy execution and the vested interest in confusion

The preceding chapter described the concentration of the
decision-making process at the apex of the political system. The
consequences of this concentration remain to be considered. In
general, the spurs and checks found in a capitalist democracy,
which are largely the product of the division of authority and
economic competition, are replaced in the Soviet system by pit-
ting the various sections of the bureaucracy against one another.
On the whole, the Party acts as a spur or spark plug, while the
secret police acts as the main negative check, This description is,
however, considerably oversimplified, since both the Party hier-
archy and the hierarchy of Soviets have developed numerous con-
trol organs of their own. For example, the regional units of the
Party are supplied with a corps of roving "instructors/' who visit
the factories and farms in the area under their control in an
attempt to learn at first hand the problems faced and the mea-
sures taken to cope with them. Good instructors manage to find
out what is going on at all levels of the Party and in economic
organizations, and to give advice in unraveling knotty problems;
poor ones content themselves with superficial conversations with
local officials. Thus, in addition to the secret police, the instructors
constitute supplementary eyes and ears for the regime.15

In this connection there is another dilemma facing the Soviet
regime. On the one hand, the system requires for its functioning
a definite hierarchy of status positions and an adequate alloca-
tion of authority. On the other hand, because of the need for means
to check up on the execution of policy decisions, there appar-
ently exists a vested interest in confusion, and particularly con-
fusion in the allocation of authority. This situation may be illus-
trated in the relationships between Party officers and other foci
of authority in the fields of industry, agriculture, and the general
administrative services.

In the first two of these fields there are three ladders of author-
ity, the economic ladder, the soviet ladder, and the Party lad-

The Bureaucratic State 287

der, whose relationship to one another, even on paper, is an ex-
tremely tenuous one. Beginning with the situation in industry,
the main steps in the economic hierarchy are the Glavk or Min-
istry (formerly called the People's Commissariat), the factory
director, and the worker. The hierarchy of Soviets also has vague
functions of economic supervision. The Soviets were recently
advised not to take an overly restricted view of their tasks in
the economic sphere, at the same time that the factory managers
were told not to be perturbed by what at first glance might seem
like interference from these organizations,16 The third ladder of
authority is, of course, the Party. Two levels of the Party hier-
archy impinge most frequently upon the activities of the Soviet
factory director. The regional Party organization (oblasf, krai,
city, or rayon) is responsible for nearly everything that takes
place within its own area, including the operation of industrial
undertakings.17 In practice, regional Party organizations fre-
quently exert sufficient pressure to be able in effect to discharge
and appoint the factory directors, although this task properly
belongs to the Ministry, If the regional Party organization is both
theoretically and actually superior to the factory director, the
primary Party organization, or Party unit within the factory, is
supposed to be his helper in raising morale, discipline, and the
like.

Conflicts and confusion occur primarily at three points in this
set of industrial relationships: between the factory director and
the Ministry, between the factory director and the regional Party
organization, and between the factory director and the primary
Party organization within the factory.

The Ministry supposedly grants to the director a wide degree
of autonomy in the making of decisions relating to production.
But at the same time it tends frequently to interfere in these de-
cisions by such actions as arbitrarily fixing the plant's manpower
and payroll, or by even going so far as to allocate the payroll
among the main categories of workers, manual workers, techni-
cians, office workers, and so forth— acts which deprive the di-
rector of the necessary flexibility required for maximum pro-
ductive efficiency.18

288 Todays Dilemma

Likewise, the regional Party organizations have of late been
accused of interfering unduly in the area of decision-making
supposedly left to the director. However, official advice on the
question of the Party's task in industry is quite contradictory.
Pravda on March 18, 1948, declared in its editorial columns that
the Party regional organizations must be freed of the economic
and administrative functions that do not belong to them in "order
to be able to exercise real control over the work of the economic
organs/' "The Party leader," Pravda continued, "who gets stuck
in current details, duplicates and copies the work of the directors,
necessarily comes to the mistaken mixing of functions, and propa-
gates irresponsibility among the economic and technical lead-
ers."19 At the same time, the regional organizations are told
that their task is "to reduce the cost of production, diminish the
amount of labor, materials, fuel, and electrical energy per unit
of output," a task that is, of course, the major one of the director.
They are further informed that they should not merely listen
to periodic reports from the directors of enterprises within their
area, but should get down to the details of actual production.20

Confusion of counsel and practice also prevails rather widely
in the relationships between the primary organization of the
Party in the factory and the factory administration. According
to section 61 of the Party statutes, the primary organizations are
granted what is called the "right of control." A recent definition
of this right of control includes the right to hear the reports
of the directors, the right to uncover weaknesses within the or-
ganization and functioning of the enterprise, and the right to
bring forward their own suggestions for the elimination of these
weaknesses. At the same time, the primary Party organization
is specifically warned not to interfere with the orders issued by
the factory director or factory administration, or to annul the
orders of the director.21

Accounts of the activities of the primary organizations criti-
cize them for attempting to administer on their own account.
Nevertheless, they are praised for investigating and making sug-
gestions about the quality of production, the introduction of new
technology, the organization of labor, and general matters of

The Bureaucratic State 289

efficiency. They are required to work "through the director,"
though they have the right to demand that the director elimi-
nate any faults that they have uncovered.22 In a typical case,
which took place during the war, a factory director attempted to
blame war conditions for his failure to produce up to the plan,
pointing to the mountain of telegrams on his desk as proof of
his efforts to obtain raw materials. The Party primary organiza-
tion, with the help of the Party city committee, investigated the
situation and found that the supply division was buried in un-
necessary paper work, as a result of which forms showing that
the materials had already been received lay around for
weeks.23

A parallel situation exists in agriculture. The chief agricul-
tural unit is the collective farm (kolkhoz). The kolkhoz is the
bottom link in a chain that leads down from the Ministry of
Agriculture through the Machine-Tractor Stations. It is also sub-
ject to the authority of the District Soviet Executive Committee
(Raiispolkom) and one of its constituent units, the village soviet,
in both political and economic matters.24 All of these organiza-
tions are in one way or another subject to the authority of vari-
ous echelons of the Party. In agriculture the function of the pri-
mary Party organization is the same as that in industry. How-
ever, in relation to the number of collective farms, there are still
very few Party primary organizations. Because of this, the Party
has organized, alongside the units in the collective farms, what
it calls "territorial primary organizations," which bring together
Party members working in the village soviet, the cooperative, the
school, and kolkhozy lacking organized Party units.25

In the various government offices, including those of the Sovi-
ets, a similar system of multiple control exists, though there are
important differences to be noted. Each government office is
under the supervision of a corresponding echelon of the Party.
"Inspection and control over the work of the central, oblast' and
rayon [soviet] establishments is carried out by the Party oblast9,
city, and rayon committees." Party primary organizations in the
various administrative and soviet offices (that is, the Party cell
in government offices, though the term cell is no longer used)

290 Today's Dilemma

do not have the right of control that the corresponding organ-
izations have in industry and agriculture. In this respect the line
of authority would appear to be somewhat clearer. However,
in addition to seeing that red tape is kept down and that visitors
receive courteous attention, the Party primary organizations are
required to "signal the weaknesses of the work of the establish-
ment"—a favorite Soviet phrase—by reporting failures and diffi-
culties to the next higher echelon of the Party, as well as to the
administration of the office in which they occur.26

The general situation may be summed up by the observation
that the Bolsheviks proceed by setting the Party against the soviet
and the economic hierarchy, and then setting the secret police
to watch over all of them. Clear lines of authority on the whole
are lacking. It does not appear that this pattern is in general the
product of deliberate creation, although some sophisticated indi-
viduals at various levels of the bureaucratic hierarchies are un-
doubtedly aware of some of the principles by which it operates.

As might be anticipated on the basis of the preceding infor-
mation, there is a tendency within the bureaucracy for informal
groupings to spring up and to serve as a defense against the
competitive pressures induced by the system. The role of such
informal units in controlling promotion has already been dis-
cussed. These protective groupings are called by the picturesque
and revealing general term of "familyness" (semeistvennostf),
which conveys very clearly the conception of protective and
friendly relations rather than the system of mutual watchfulness
encouraged and approved by the regime.

In industry, for example, there is a tendency for the leader-
ship of the Party primary organization to form a protective alli-
ance with the factory administration. Often this protective alli-
ance is sealed by gifts from the director to the secretary of the
primary organization.27 The formation of these protective group-
ings need not be attributed solely to the desire to cover up one
another's faults. It is also much more efficient, from a purely eco-
nomic point of view, for the factory director and the head of the
Party organization, which is responsible to a large extent for dis-
cipline and morale, to have a close working relationship.28 Fur-

The Bureaucratic State 291

thermore, the factory director nowadays is nearly always a Party
member too.

Nevertheless, the Party is well aware that if the primary organ-
ization is to serve its purpose of standing watch over the factory
administration, it must maintain its independence.29 The Party
does its best, therefore, to discourage the formation of these mu-
tual alliances. Frequent denunciations of the sin of "familyness"
are scattered through the daily press, and this problem is attacked
in several other ways as well, The recurrence of the problem sup-
ports the hypothesis, however, that the periodic growth and de-
struction of these informal social units are inherent features of
the Soviet social order: Pravda recently (October 27, 1946) reit-
erated a 1928 Party decree that attempted to cut the dependence
of Party officials on the administrators of economic enterprises.30

An almost identical situation is found in agriculture. The Party
tries to keep the primary organizations on the collective farms
separate from the farm administration, in order that the Party
group may act as a stimulant and also as an inspection device in
relation to the kolkhoz administration. However, it appears that
frequently the leadership of the Party primary group and the
chairmanship of the collective farm end up in the hands of the
same individual.31 In other words, there is a tendency for status
relationships to assume a form that leads to inner group harmony.
In part, this may be due to the fact that in many localities there
is only one outstandingly energetic and capable person or natu-
ral leader. Whatever the causes, the situation reflects the diffi-
culty faced by the Party in its efforts to maintain control by set-
ting one organization to watch another.

For similar reasons, Party members in the administrative serv-
ices often fail to carry out their obligation to report errors and
difficulties.32 Such a situation arises, it has been said, "because
the Party buro or the secretary of the Party organization is afraid
to spoil his relationship with the head of the establishment, or
doesn't want to 'carry rubbish out of the hut'" (the Russian
equivalent of washing dirty linen in public).38

There is another reaction to the pressures of the bureaucratic
regime, particularly to the pressures of routine and the social

292 Today's Dilemma

demand to "get things done/' which affect both the capitalist
captain of industry and the Communist administrator. For lack
of a better name, this response may be called the affirmation of
virtue. Soviet administrative staffs, like their counterparts else-
where, make "decisions" or adopt resolutions which accomplish
nothing, but which may relieve some anxieties about conformance
to an expected norm of activity. In this fashion activity becomes
an end in itself and a way of avoiding the consideration of seri-
ous problems. If a man is able to keep busy enough on inconse-
quential administrative details, his self-esteem is raised, and there
is little danger that he will become depressed by the question
of whether this administrative activity is serving its stated pur-
pose or any other. He develops what the Soviets call a blind belief
in the effectiveness of directives.34

One account, typical of many in the Soviet press, illustrates
concretely the nature of these difficulties. According to an edito-
rial in Izvestiya on March 4, 1947, the executive committee of a
certain city soviet issued almost seventeen hundred resolutions
and orders in the course of a year. Sessions and hearings were
held regularly. At first glance, Izvestiya remarked, one might
conclude that these people worked hard and effectively. But
complaints made at one session of the soviet revealed that the
housing fund of the city had been neglected, streetcars did not
work, the public baths were dilapidated, and matters were in a
generally sorry state. Whether the authorities of the city could
have done anything about this situation is a question that cannot
be answered without greater knowledge of local circumstances.
It is known, however, that the Soviet system of central economic
planning makes it extremely difficult for cities or other social
units to obtain materials for projects that are not included in
the Plan, In itself, the responsibility of the authorities is not sig-
nificant. What is significant is the typical reaction of the local
officials to a form of frustration combined with the pressure for
achievement.

The regime opposes the tendency for informal protective
groupings and other "distortions" to grow up within the bureau-
cratic structure by drawing upon the ideological inheritance of

The Bureaucratic State 293

equalitarianism. The argument is put forth, correctly enough, that
the growth of these protective associations, the sin of "family-
ness," prevents the execution of the Party line. To counteract
such development, self-criticism is encouraged and democratic
procedures are restored in Party and other organizations that
have turned into closed cliques. The resultant situation might be
called an open season on bureaucrats, even though it is definitely
an open season on minor bureaucrats and not on the top leaders
of the regime.

In many cases, the criticism takes the form of scapegoating,
in which one official or group of officials is singled out for blame
because of problems that are either inherent in the Soviet sys-
tem as a whole or in other general circumstances, It is a common
practice to blame shortages of consumers' goods on the ineffi-
ciency of a particular government department, when in fact they
are the result of wartime conditions or the necessities of building
up heavy industry. A typical example may be cited at random:
shortly after the war Trud, the trade-union newspaper, asserted
that it was necessary to "purge the trading organizations and
control and ration card bureaus of all parasites and doubtful
workers who are feathering their nests there," and that better
public control was needed to put the supply stores, dining rooms,
and ration-card bureaus in order.35 It is not difficult to infer that
many exasperated consumers were pleased by such official lash-
ings and relieved by the accompanying promise of an increase in
the availability of scarce consumers' goods.

On other occasions the complaints take the form of letters to
the editor of the daily press, of which the following is a typical
example. A woman architect, who had received authorization to
spend her vacation at a tuberculosis sanatorium, arrived at the
railroad station nearest the hospital. No further transportation
was available, and, despite the heat of the day, she was forced
to walk ten kilometers to her destination. There she found that
the sanatorium was closed, and was told by the director of the
liquidated institution that many other people, evidently less
trusting than she had been, had telephoned from the same rail-
road station to discover this fact. Returning to Moscow, she re-

294 Todays Dilemma

ceived no satisfaction from the trade-union officers who had
originally issued the authorization. Since they merely shrugged
their shoulders and said they knew nothing about the sanato-
rium's being closed, she went to an officer of the Ail-Union Cen-
tral Council of Trade Unions. The latter refused to issue a permit
for another sanatorium and put the blame on the original union
officers. By this time the woman's vacation was evidently over.86

The outcome of this particular complaint is not known, though
it is a safe assumption that several uncooperative bureaucrats got
into a good deal of hot water. It is not necessary for such letters
to be published to be effective. Many people from all over the
Soviet Union continually write to Stalin about their difficulties.
Part of the task of Stalin's secretariat is to use these letters as
evidence of clogging within the administrative apparatus, par-
ticularly in areas and matters that the Politburo considers sig-
nificant at any given time. This fact is frequently publicized by
Soviet leaders, who are fond of asserting that fundamental deci-
sions have been reached on the basis of letters or information from
simple peasants or workmen. This device may act as a check on
some of the more flagrant forms of obstructionism.

At other times, elected officials may attempt to intervene to
straighten out some tangled red tape for their constituents in a
manner not unlike that of an American Congressman. Izvestiya
of May 31, 1947, carried a revealing account of this type of work
by a deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, showing quite
clearly the status relationships between members of the Supreme
Soviet and more permanent officers of the Soviet bureaucracy.
The deputy involved, one I. Panin, reported that he received from
his constituents more than a score of letters a day, and that in the
course of a year he dealt with the questions and complaints of
nearly three thousand constituents. When Deputy Panin tried to
reach Soviet officials on the telephone regarding these matters,
he found that the secretary usually replied that the official was
"in conference." At first he believed the secretaries. Later he
learned to give his own name after the secretary had said the
official was "out," but before she put the telephone down. The
result was that the secretary usually said she would "have a look

The Bureaucratic State 295

to see if he had come back/' and as a rule the official was located
and the business transacted without difficulty. On other occasions,
however, Deputy Panin ran into outright and repeated refusals
of his requests for an interview, preceded by the secretary's care-
ful ritual of writing down the exact nature of his visit, problems
to be discussed, and so forth. Evidently, certain of the business
folkways of socialism do not differ significantly from those of cap-
italism, both being behavior patterns developed in adaptation to
similar circumstances.

Consequences

The consequences of the authoritarian and equalitarian pres-
sures, as they work themselves out in the Soviet bureaucracy,
may be described in the following manner. The competitive situ-
ation is to a large extent the consequence of the extreme central-
ization of authority. The competitive situation provides the chief
method for checking up on the execution of policy, which is
acknowledged by the Soviets themselves to be one of the weaker
features of the present regime. Equalitarian doctrines and the
tradition of "control from below," even if largely abandoned in
the strictly technical sense, continue to play an important politi-
cal role in that they are utilized by the top leadership to control
the bureaucratic servants.

In a defensive reaction against these competitive pressures,
protective nuclei and alliances tend to grow up within the bu-
reaucracy. There is also a tendency for status relationships to
approach a functional division of power and authority, in which
the man who has responsibility also has power. These protective
nuclei are continually being destroyed at the instigation of the top
Party leadership.

The question may be fairly raised whether this continual
growth and destruction, which wastes an incalculable amount
of human and material resources, is really an inherent feature
of the Soviet social system. Is there anything to prevent the top
leaders from taking advantage of the tendency to develop a func-
tional system of status and authority, from reaping the benefits of
greater economic efficiency and diminished social friction? Obvi-

296 Today's Dilemma

ously, something of the sort must take place at the lower levels of
the general bureaucratic hierarchy, when, let us say, the regional
Party secretary looks the other way at the growth of illegal com-
binations and groupings. Otherwise, the complaints would not be
so continuous.

Once again, such a question cannot be answered definitively
in the absence of experimental methods. One must also avoid the
temptation to argue that because things are so they cannot be
otherwise. Yet it seems very likely that under present conditions
the top Party leaders cannot afford to let matters take their course,
and that what we have called the vested interest in confusion is
an inherent feature of the current regime. If the top Party leader-
ship permitted the continuous growth of combinations between
the factory director and the Party primary organization, or be-
tween larger units, such as the factory director, the heads of the
local soviet, the heads of collective farms, and the local Party
officials, it would soon find itself deprived of a valuable means
of checking up on the execution of its major decisions. It seems,
therefore, that there is a real dilemma between short-run and
local interests in efficiency, and the over-all and long-run interests
in both efficiency and the maintenance of power.

From another and more long-range point of view, however,
there are some grounds for doubting that the so-called vested
interest in confusion will remain an essential feature of the Soviet
system. In Tsarist Russia the traditions of promptness, accuracy,
honesty, obedience, and rationality—in the sense of fitting the
most effective means to a given set of ends— were not as highly
developed in ruling circles as they were, for example, in the
Prussian bureaucracy. In addition, the level of formal education,
essential for the recording operations of modern society, was
extremely low in comparison with Western Europe. Starting with
these conditions, it is understandable that the Bolsheviks would
be compelled to improvise all sorts of ways to check up on the
execution of a centrally determined policy, This is simply another
way of stating the familiar argument that Russia was probably the
worst possible place to attempt to introduce socialism.

In Western Europe, if we accept a balance between Max

The Bureaucratic State 297

Weber's views and those of scholars of more materialist leanings,
the qualities of promptness, rationality, and the rest were the
product of certain features of the Protestant Reformation to-
gether with the discipline imposed by the requirements of a ma-
chine civilization. In Russia after 1917 the Party constituted the
focal point for the diffusion not only of a machine civilization,
but also of the qualities that by necessity accompany it. In this
process, as has been indicated, the Party had to undergo a con-
siderable transformation itself, eliminating from positions of
power the prerevolutionary intellectuals, who could only manip-
ulate symbols, and putting in their places the manipulators of
both symbols and men. In the course of the past three decades
the impediments imposed by a low level of formal education
have been very largely removed. It is safe to assume that, if the
present trend continues, these qualities will be more widely dif-
fused among the population at large.37 There is a possibility then,
in the long run at least, that some of the features of the Soviet
bureaucracy described in this chapter will in the course of a gen-
eration become less important. One may look forward to a partial
decline in the elaboration of formal and informal devices utilized
for the verification of policy execution. But it is unlikely that the
rulers will permit this to go so far as to endanger their power.

13

The Industrial Order: Stalin
and Adam Smith

The problem and the Marxist answer

It has been pointed out that any industrial economic system has
to find ways and means for making four groups of decisions.
First, it is necessary to decide what to produce. In the second
place, decisions have to be made concerning the most efficient
way of combining labor and resources in order to produce the
guns, butter, and other myriad products of a modern industrial
order. Thirdly, it is necessary to provide some means for deciding
how much economic effort should go into the building of new
plants and the replacement of equipment that has become worn
out or obsolete. Finally, there have to be devices for ensuring
the orderly distribution of the products of the economy among
the population.1

The answer given to these problems by classical economic
theory, and to a lesser extent by capitalist economic practice, is
that the free play of the acquisitive impulses of the individual
in an atomistic and competitive order of society will result in a
maximum flow of goods and services. On the producer's side, the
restless search for profit will supposedly lead him to find out
what goods the consumer wants. The pressure from his competi-
tors will supposedly compel him to manufacture these goods
with a minimum output of labor and resources. Competition
also forces the producer to sell his goods at a price that just cov-
ers the cost of production, including a return for his own mana-
gerial and entrepreneurial skills. On the consumer's side, it is

The Industrial Order 299

argued that the restless search for gain will send him into the
employment that provides a maximum payment for his skills and
efforts. Likewise, the acquisitive drives will compel the consumer
to spend his earnings in the most efficient manner possible: that
is, he will seek to purchase goods and services at the lowest pos-
sible price for comparable quality. In this way the consumer con-
trols ultimately the activities of the producer, and the system of
theorems is closed.

This system has been under attack ever since its formulation.
At least in terms of institutional consequences, Marx and his fol-
lowers have turned out to be the most important of the attackers.
The essence of the Marxist attack lies in the denial of the assump-
tion that the free play of acquisitive impulses among individuals
will bring about a maximum of wealth and prosperity for all. In-
stead, Marx endeavored to show that under the operation of
capitalist institutions the free play of such impulses would result
in the rich becoming richer and the poor becoming poorer— in the
famous "polarization of classes," culminating in the explosion of
the class struggle in the proletarian revolution. This doctrine, too,
has been subject to critical onslaught ever since it was first pro-
pounded.

In addition, Marx anticipated the viewpoint of some anthropol-
ogists in his denial that the 'laws" of economics were laws in the
same sense as the description of universal relationships observed
and calculated by the natural scientists. Instead, according to
Marx's argument, each type of social organization— slave econ-
omy, feudalism, and capitalism— displays economic and social re-
lationships or laws of its own. With the advent of socialism, ac-
cording to a famous phrase of Engels', man would make the leap
from the realm of necessity into the realm of freedom. Marx
coined no such phrase, and asserted more cautiously that in a
socialist society man would still be subject to some restrictions
and limitations, though these would not be the same as in capi-
talist society.

This denial of the axioms of classical economics was contin-
ued and elaborated by Lenin, Trotsky, Bukharin, and Stalin. At
the same time, the Communists have taken over and modified

300 Todays Dilemma

some of the features of capitalist society, such as the utilization
of status differentials and incentives, devices that received an
oblique approval in Marx if not among his lesser followers. As a
consequence of these and other modifications, the hope has been
continually expressed in the West that the Russians were aban-
doning socialism and adopting capitalism. Every straw has been
seized to prove that their economic system and economic ideol-
ogy was like our own. Under the pressure of wartime desires to
see our allies in our own image, this discussion reached the point
where a rather turgid restatement of Marxism, indistinguishable
from many others in the Soviet press, was suddenly seized upon
by the American newspapers as evidence that the Russians were
abandoning Marxism.2 It is well to examine, therefore, at least
in outline form, the basic ideological assumptions, motivating
drives, and institutional structure of the Soviet industrial system.

Who decides what to produce?

The first question raised in the opening paragraph of this
chapter may be used as a starting point: How does the Soviet
system provide for reaching decisions on whether to produce
guns or butter, machinery or knitting needles?

From the available evidence, it is reasonably certain that
the major decisions on the general production goals of the Soviet
economy, including the types of products and quantities of each,
are now reached by the Politburo and embodied in the various
Five Year Plans. This concentration of the decision-making power
on matters of national import in the economic field parallels the
political concentration of power. The present situation differs
markedly from that before Stalin's accession to power. The First
Five Year Plan was itself the product of discussions and small-
scale trials that lasted from the November Revolution until 1929.

The highest planning body on economic affairs is the Gosplan
(State Planning Commission). However, as the English econo-
mist Maurice A. Dobb, who is not one to emphasize the authori-
tarian aspects of the Soviet regime, points out, the Gosplan is an
advisory body and "not an executive department of state." 3 It is
a part of the Council of Ministers and, according to Soviet sources,

The Industrial Order 301

receives its directives from them and from the Supreme Soviet.4

During the war the power to reach economic decisions, as
well as supreme political power, was concentrated in the hands
of the Government Defense Committee headed by Stalin. In
addition to Stalin, this Committee included Molotov, Voroshilov,
Malenkov, Beriya, Kaganovich, Mikoyan, and Voznesensky, all,
except the last, prominent members of the Politburo.5 In view
of the overlap between the Politburo and the Council of Min-
isters, as well as between the Politburo and the Government De-
fense Committee, it is safe to assert that general decisions and
directives originated in the Politburo during the war and origi-
nate there now.

The procedure by which the Five Year Plans are actually
drawn up is quite complicated and need not be considered in
detail here, especially since this aspect of the Soviet system has
received considerable attention from Western writers.6 It is suffi-
cient to point out that in formulating the details of a Plan the
Gosplan authorities must take careful account of existing capaci-
ties and resources, an operation which requires an accurate knowl-
edge of such capacities and resources for the USSR as a whole.
In the second place, the planners have to make sure that the
plans for each industry and area match one another. For example,
in expanding the amount of electric power, the Gosplan has to be
sure that there will be available the necessary steel and other
equipment for building the new power plants, and that this power
in tuna will be in a locality where it will be useful to other facto-
ries. Thus, it is quite clear that the planners, including not only
the technicians but also the political authorities, do not and can-
not have a completely free hand in the choices that they make.

The conclusion that the basic decisions concerning what to
produce and in what quantities are made in their essentials by
the Politburo goes directly counter to the official ideology, accord-
ing to which the masses participate widely in the planning proc-
ess and thereby help to control their economic destiny. A recent
semipopular Soviet exposition of the planning machinery devotes
a whole chapter to the participation of the masses in planning.7

An examination of this and other material bearing on this

302 Todays Dilemma

point throws very severe doubts upon the official contention.
What happens, apparently, is that, under the stimulus of the
Communist Party, the workers, factory directors, and collective
fanners produce counterplans, in which they promise to carry
out, or often to overfulfil!, the official government plans. In 1947
and 1948 these counterplans have taken the form of long letters
to Stalin, printed on the front page of the newspapers, in which
groups of workers or farmers set themselves specific production
goals that they are pledged to fulfill. Other forms of so-called
mass participation in planning are the Stakhanovite movement
and "socialist competition," in which various groups of workers
or factories as well as collective farms vie with one another for
prizes awarded to the group with the greatest output. All of
these movements are carefully controlled and stimulated by the
Party. There is not the slightest evidence that they can in any
way affect the fundamental aims of the Plan. They do not affect
such basic decisions as whether the economic resources of the
country will be directed into heavy industry or light industry,
into war goods or peace goods, consumers' goods or producers*
goods, which are the essential decisions of the Plan. They are
merely additional stimuli to production that, together with the
elaborate apparatus of control, help to take the place of the
spurs and checks provided by the market in a capitalist economy.

Position and motivations of the Soviet manager

Once the decision has been reached concerning what goods
are to be produced, there remains a host of decisions to be made
concerning the most efficient combination of raw materials, fac-
tory equipment, and labor necessary to produce them. Under a
capitalist system, the profit motive provides the major stimulus
for the maximization of efficient production, and the bankruptcy
court the chief negative sanction for inefficiency. The capitalist
entrepreneur under textbook conditions is free to obtain his sup-
plies of men and materials where, he can find them. Actually, he
does a great deal of shopping around for them. Likewise, he
makes the decision of whether or not to expand .his plant by add-
ing new buildings and machines. In practice, these decisions may

The Industrial Order 303

be greatly influenced or limited by government authorities. The
Soviet manager enjoys only a very limited autonomy in the search
for supplies, and on his own initiative can do next to nothing
about the major aspects of the size and capacity of the plant
entrusted to him by the state. This series of graded distinctions
in the power to make important economic decisions, and in the
motivations behind these decisions, is more important in practice
at least than differences in property rights in distinguishing be-
tween the Soviet manager and his capitalist counterpart.

As a motivating force to interest die manager in the efficiency
of his plant, the Soviets make use of the profit motive in a manner
that has certain strong resemblances to familiar capitalist arrange-
ments. The utilization of this device, often regarded as a distinc-
tive feature of capitalism, is openly recognized and accepted in
current Soviet doctrine. The Five Year Plan adopted in 1946
aims to "increase the importance of the profit motive and eco-
nomic accounting as an additional stimulus to production."8
Nevertheless, the operation of the profit motive is hedged in
under the Soviet system by limitations on the opportunities to
bargain for supplies, the centralization of decisions concerning
plant expansion, and taxation policies that return most of the
profit to the state. In this manner it is harnessed to the socialist
chariot and prevented from becoming a force that might disrupt
Soviet institutions.

To understand the operation of the profit motive and the
limitations of the manager's power of decision, the Soviet pro-
duction process at various points may be examined. Beginning
at the point of sale, and working back from there, one may note
that the products of a plant are sold at prices fixed by the gov-
ernment. Exceeding these prices is punishable by law. But the
prices do not represent the money equivalent of the cost of pro-
duction. The plant is expected to produce its goods at a cost that
is less than the price set by the government. A so-called turn-
over tax9 and an amount included as the planned profit are
added to the anticipated cost of production. Lowering the qual-
ity of the goods to increase the margin between cost of produc-
tion and selling price is punishable by law.10 If the manager holds

304 Today's Dilemma

costs below the anticipated amount, the profits of the plant are
increased. In 1945 the total profit for the Soviet Union as a whole
amounted to 21,051,000,000 rubles.11

At earlier stages in the production process, the Limitations on
the manager's power of decision and the operations of the profit
incentive are connected with control over the physical equip-
ment of the plant and over supplies of raw materials. The basic
assumption of the Soviet system is, of course, that the manager
is not free to buy or sell factories, which are regarded as gov-
ernment property entrusted to him to manage.12 In the process
of spelling this principle out in actual legal and institutional
forms, the Soviets have for some time drawn a distinction between
what they call basic and circulating resources. Very different
possibilities are open to the manager for the utilization of each.

The terms "basic resources" and "circulating resources" derive
from the differences Marx believed he saw between the means
of labor— factory buildings, machines, and so forth— and the objects
of labor— raw materials, semifinished products, and the like. These
differences would exist in any form of society, Marx declared.18
In general, the means of labor are regarded as the basic resources
and the objects of labor as the circulating ones. The distinction
between the two types of resources does not depend upon the
nature of the object itself, but the purpose for which it is intended.
Thus a linotype machine that is the product of a factory that
makes them is part of the circulating resources of this factory.
When this same machine is transferred to a printing establish-
ment, it becomes part of the basic resources of this plant.14

In practice, difficulties soon arose in the application of these
distinctions. In 1923 it was decreed" that basic resources were
those that were not used up or destroyed in a single act of pro-
duction—buildings, machines, and the like— and that circulating
resources were those that could only be used once— fuel, raw
materials, and others.15 In 1936 the definition of circulating re-
sources was broadened to include objects whose useful life was
less than a year, independent of their cost, and objects whose cost,
independent of their useful life, was less than 200 rubles.16

Basic resources cannot be bought or sold again by the indi-

The Industrial Order 305

vidual manager.17 In other words, the Soviet manager cannot
increase or decrease the size and equipment of the plant en-
trusted to his care through buying and selling operations in the
fashion of his capitalist counterpart. However, he does have a
voice in the disposal of a small portion of the plant's profits which
can be used for expansion. Thus the outlet for the operation of
the profit motive is, in this part of the production process, a very
small one.

Circulating resources provide the opportunity for the profit
motive to serve as a stimulus to production and efficiency. The
minimum of supplies necessary for the operation of the plant is
determined according to the plan. The flow of supplies to the
plant is controlled in different ways for different types of supplies,
depending on the scarcity of the commodity concerned. Some of
them may be purchased directly from other producers.18 The
production plan for the individual plant includes a certain profit
rate, called the planned profit. If the manager makes efficient
utilization of his resources, he may exceed the planned rate of
profit. Should this take place, the extra profit remains at the dis-
posal of the plant.19 In 1940, 70 per cent of the cost of produc-
tion for industry as a whole is reported to have been spent on
raw materials, fuel, and other items that come under the defini-
tion of circulating resources.20

In addition, the manager is permitted to add to his circulating
resources through loans from the banks. These loans are sup-
posed to be issued only for strictly defined purposes, though their
utilization for purposes other than those defined is deprecated in
strong enough terms to suggest that it may occur rather often.21
Such loans probably increase the leeway available to the man-
ager in the making of production decisions, at the same time
providing a further check upon managerial operations in a way
that resembles banking control over production decisions in a
capitalist society.

The disposition of the profit indicates further its limitations
as an incentive. Part of it is taxed and part placed in the Indus-
trial Bank (Prombank) for purposes of capital development
within the industry. A third part goes into what is called the

306 Todays Dilemma

Director's Fund,22 a slightly misleading name, since it does not
appear that this fund is a direct reward for the manager.

The Director's Fund is primarily a way of rewarding the
workers for energy and efficiency. Since the way the fund is
expended is left partly to the discretion of the director, it is safe
to assume that it represents a series of tempting prizes that
the manager may distribute to those he chooses. In 1940 the
amount distributed through the Director's Fund was 2,600,000,-
000 rubles.28 In some, presumably exceptional plants, individ-
ual workers received cash awards of 500 to 1,000 rubles.2* Though
payments into the Director's Fund were replaced by other re-
wards during the war years, they were revived again in 1946.
Under the postwar legislation only 2 to 10 per cent of the planned
profits may be credited to the Director's Fund, the percentage
varying with different industries. A much larger proportion, be-
tween 25 and 50 per cent, of the profits in excess of the plan may
be credited to this fund. This arrangement presumably acts as a
stimulus toward greater profit on the part of both workers and
management. The proceeds of the fund may be spent on improv-
ing the housing conditions of the workers and for other amenities,
for individual bonuses, trips to rest homes, sanatoria, and the like.
While the director has the right to allocate the fund, it does not
appear that he may spend any of it upon himself.25

On the other hand, salary bonuses for the managers are
closely related to profit, though not calculated as a percentage
thereof. In coal mining, for each per cent of reduction of real
cost of production below planned cost, the manager, assistant
manager, chief and assistant engineers obtain a bonus of 15 per
cent of their monthly salary. Similar rules prevail in other sectors
of heavy industry. On occasion the total bonuses granted to man-
agers and engineers equal or exceed their annual salary.26

The Soviets have taken the profit motive of capitalist society
and adapted it to the requirements of their own ideology and
social system, hedging it in with numerous restrictions so that
it may not act as a socially disruptive force. After 1929 they
did much the same thing to the capitalist device of competition,
which the Webbs described as being, under socialism, the use

The Industrial Order 307

"of the sporting instinct to augment the wealth of the nation." 27
Socialist competition, as it is known in the USSR, usually takes
the form of a race between two or more factories, or shops within
factories, to see who can turn out the maximum output. It is thus
closely allied to the Stakhanovite movement. The winners receive
group publicity in the Soviet press, banners, and other symbols
of achievement. During the war there developed, as part of the
system of socialist competition, the "200 per cent movement,"
that is, groups of workers who fulfilled double the requirements
of the plan.28 Whether this type of speed-up leads to an efficient
utilization of men and machines is open to doubt, since it often
leads to a rapid breakdown of both.29 It should be noted that so-
cialist competition, directed chiefly toward tie quantitative maxi-
mization of output, differs sharply from competition in capitalist
society, which takes the form of competitive bidding for labor
and resources on the side of production, and in competition by
price, quality, and services on the side of distribution.

In the light of the foregoing it is safe to conclude, as others
have done, that noneconomic incentives and checks play the more
important role in producing the desired behavior on the part of
the Soviet manager. Chief among these are the possibilities of
advancement to positions of greater and greater responsibility and
prestige for those who have learned to combine men, machines,
and materials in the most efficient manner, and the probabilities
of disgrace, or even active physical suffering, for those who fail
to measure up to the assigned task. Economic failure is likely
to be identified with sabotage, and hence becomes a "sin" in an
even stronger sense than is the case in the United States, with
severe penalties meted out in this life.

Though large allowances have to be made for the part played
by earlier conditions and the relative smallness of the managerial
group with which the Soviets began, it may also be concluded
that the system has not inculcated through its rewards and pen-
alties the habits of prompt decision-making and accurate atten-
tion to detail that are desired by the Soviet leaders. At a meeting
of the Supreme Soviet in October 1946, the chairman of the
budget commission repeated the typical complaint that many

308 Todays Dilemma

factory directors refuse to look at a balance sheet, to learn the
cost of their products, or to eliminate unproductive expendi-
tures.30 Likewise, the Party press from time to time slashes away
at managers who 'look for a quiet life and sit with folded arms,"
paying no attention to cost and quality.31 While such criticisms
cannot be taken altogether at face value, they may be used as
evidence for the hypothesis that, together with the historical fac-
tors just mentioned, the system of rewards and penalties that
apply to the Soviet manager does not yet lead to an efficient
combination of men and resources. Still another element in this
complex situation is the fact that the Soviet factory manager is
under terrific pressure to turn out the goods and probably knows
that the penalty for cutting corners on quality and efficiency are
less than those for failure to produce at all.32

Throughout a considerable sector of the Soviet economy, that
directly controlled by the secret police, the incentives provided
by profit and competition appear to be almost totally absent. In
this area political motivations, the need to eliminate political
enemies, covered by euphemisms about the restoration of deviants
to society (concentration camps are called "Corrective Labor
Camps"), are combined with economic ones and may overshadow
them. The extent of these operations remains a state secret that
cannot be reliably penetrated from the available fragmentary in-
formation. They may be recalled, however, as a reminder that
even in the Soviet Union more than one set of rewards and pen-
alties operates within the economy.

The collectivization of thrift

According to classical economic theory, the resources needed
for the construction of new plants and the replacement of worn-
out machinery come from the sacrifice of present consumption.
To a considerable extent they are derived in a capitalist econ-
omy from individual savings that are loaned to industry through
the purchase of securities. Interest payments have been widely
regarded as a form of reward for the sacrifice of present con-
sumption, thus permitting the construction or replacement of cap-
ital equipment.

The Industrial Order 309

To some extent individual savings are a source of plant con-
struction and replacement in the Soviet Union. The virtues of
thrift are recognized there, too. As early as 1926 Stalin himself
spoke out in favor of interest payments as the normal way of
"mobilizing" individual savings.33 But they play a much smaller
role in the Soviet Union than they do under capitalist conditions.

When the Soviets in the thirties started the drive for socialist
industrialization, they could not, for a variety of reasons, afford
to rely upon individual thrift alone, or upon voluntary absten-
tion from consumption as a source of real capital investment.
Perhaps the most important of these considerations was that the
sacrifices required were too great for reliance on voluntary means.
Nor could the regime permit people to save money with the idea
that they would invest it wherever there was the greatest oppor-
tunity for profit. Both socialist doctrine and the requirements of
the day demanded that decisions concerning real capital invest-
ment be centralized.34

For these reasons, capital investment has been, and is, financed
very heavily out of the national budget. During the period of War
Communism, the economy operated for a time as if Soviet indus-
try were one large factory. Assignments from the budget were
the only resources of the individual plant, and all of its monetary
income returned to the treasury.35 This extreme centralization
was subsequently abandoned and a number of other schemes
tried out. During the thirties between three quarters and two
thirds of the amounts devoted to capital construction were de-
rived from the budget, the remaining portion being left to the
individual enterprise to reinvest in its own operations, in ways
apparently left to the manager's discretion.36 During the war,
and subsequently, this amount has been much smaller.

The relationship between capital investment and the total
expenditures of the budget of the USSR may be seen in the fol-
lowing table, compiled from scattered Russian sources. During
the period from 1938 to 1940, capital investment constituted
nearly one fourth of the budget expenses. This proportion
dropped precipitously during the war years, as might be antici-
pated, and in 1946 formed less than one seventh of the budget.

310 Todays Dilemma

Plans for the current (Fourth) Five Year Plan call for a total
capital investment of 157,500,000,000 rubles, according to one
calculation,87 and according to another, based on estimated 1945
prices, a total of 250,300,000,000 rubles. The difference between
the two figures may reflect a price inflation, since most Soviet
statistical calculations are based on 1926-1927 prices. Presum-
ably, most of this will come from the budget and may constitute
a heavier drain on it than prewar capital investment.

CAPITAL INVESTMENT AND BUDGET OF USSR (1938-1948)
(In millions of rubles)

1938-40

1942

1945

1946

1947

1948 (pro-
posed)

Total expenses 451,688 a

Total capital investment 108,000 a

182,800 c 298,591 f, i 319,424 i 361,200

307,500 n

79,000 d 40,000.1 « 49,400 *
36,300 h

387,900

Capital investment from
budget

30,300 «

41,300 k

60,900 n

Total inc

some

463,736 b

165,000 c

302,034 i

333,537 J

385,200 n

428,000 u

325,400 n

Income

from turnover

tax

283,161 b

66,000 e

123,000 •

200,813 1

239,900 n

280,100 n

Income

from tax on

profits

48, 023 b

15,300 «

16,900 «

16,040 m

a Plotnikov, in Finansy SSSR, pp. 179-180.

0 Voznesensky, Voennaya EJconomika SSSR, p. 132.
d Ibid., p. 46. Figure is for the years 1942-1944.

e Plotnikov, in Finansy SSSR, p. 185.

f Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo Soveta SSSR (Vtoraya Sessiya), October 15-18, 1946, p. 15.
* Plotnikov, in Finansy SSSR, p. 188.

h Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo Soveta SSSR (Vtoraya Sessiya), p. 16. Discrepancy unexplained
in sources.

1 Ibid., p. 7.

j Ibid., p. 339.

k Ibid., p. 16.

1 Ibid., p. 9.
m Ibid., p. 10.
n Speech by A. G. Zverev, Minister of Finances, Izveatiya, February 1, 1948.

As the table shows, the chief source of budget revenue and
hence, indirectly, of capital investment is the turnover tax. It
constituted 61.1 per cent of government revenues between 1938
and 1940, and 60 per cent in 1946, although the figure dropped
to 40.8 per cent in 1945. This tax, with more than 2,500 indi-
vidual rates, is imposed on almost all consumption goods at the
point where they leave the producing plant and enter channels

The Industrial Order 311

of distribution. It is the major factor in the difference between
the cost of production and the selling price of any article. Even
plants that fail to operate at a profit must pay this tax.88

A second, and far less important, source of state revenue is
the tax on profits. It constituted just over one tenth of the state
revenues in the period 1938-1940, and under 5 per cent in 1946.
Nevertheless, it sops up most of the profits of industry, taking
in 1945, for instance, nearly 17 billion rubles out of the total
profit of 21 billion rubles.39 In a sense, this tax is an unnecessary
bookkeeping operation, since both the turnover tax and the tax
on profits come out of the difference between the cost of pro-
duction and the selling price. There is, however, a distinction,
in that the turnover tax is levied and collected even if the firm
fails to make a profit.

Other taxes are relatively unimportant. Before the war direct
taxes on the population, including income taxes, provided only
about 5 per cent of the total state revenues. During the war the
proportion rose to 14 per cent.40

Distribution

In the Soviet system for the distribution of goods to the pop-
ulation at large, one may observe the same mixture of what are
commonly considered socialist and capitalist principles as appear
in the other aspects of their economic arrangements. The pres-
ent arrangements for distribution are the product of a long pe-
riod of trial and error. By the time of the outbreak of the Sec-
ond World War, the system devised was to sell the products of
socialist industry, as well as most of the products of agriculture,
through government and cooperative stores at fixed prices.41 In
addition, there is a free market for certain agricultural products,
which will be discussed in another connection. In this system the
turnover tax provides the means for matching prices to avail-
able supplies.42 With certain relatively minor changes this is the
principal arrangement in effect today. Under this system, incen-
tives produced by inequalities in income have their full effect.
Additional money income means an additional opportunity to
purchase the necessities and good things of life.48 This situation

312 Todays Dilemma

is in accord with the socialist maxim, "From each according to
his abilities, to each according to his work."

However, at various times and under emergency conditions,
the Soviet regime, like its capitalist competitors, has found it
expedient to resort to other distributive devices. One of these
is, of course, rationing, which has existed from time to time,
including the period of the Second World War. Wartime ration-
ing was abolished on December 16, 1947, at the same time that
consumer demand was checked by a devaluation of the currency.
Special stores, where "members of the intelligentsia and highly
skilled workers'* could obtain various scarce goods, usually at
higher prices than those in the regular distribution channels
where the goods were often nonexistent, have been another dis-
tributive device.44 Still another has been the organization of
special canteens in the factories. During the war the role of
these canteens, which often drew their supplies from collective
farms that made special agreements with a particular factory,
increased sharply. Before the war they accounted for only 4 per
cent of the retail turnover in the USSR, while in 1942 they
accounted for 28 per cent, and in special areas, such as the
Urals, for as much as 45 per cent.45 Despite these variations,
the distribution of consumers* goods has by and large been based
on the principle of "come and get it if you can afford it."

Even writers sympathetic to the Soviet Union assert that the
system of retail distribution is one of the least successful prod-
ucts of the regime, and the Soviets themselves have denounced
it perhaps more frequently than any other feature of their society.
Service tends to be disinterested and slow. Little or inadequate
attention is paid to local needs and tastes, or to seasonal require-
ments. "Stores are replenished with merchandise irregularly, and
the most necessary goods are lacking." Store staffs are "neither
accustomed to nor interested in laying in supplies on time or
carefully storing perishable commodities/' " The Webbs' remark,
"There have been not a few occasions when village and even
city stores have been clamouring in vain for particular supplies,
when these have been lying unopened, and even forgotten at
some intermediate point." 4r

The Industrial Order 313

These difficulties may be attributed to both ideological and
institutional sources. As Yugow argues, the nationalization and
centralization of retail trade was undoubtedly premature in
Russia, at least from a strictly limited economic point of view.
It created an unwieldy and expensive bureaucratic apparatus
that paid little or no attention to the habit, customs, and tastes
of the people.48 Of perhaps even greater importance is the fact
that while the reigning ideology romanticized the construction
of industry, it did not provide motivations and rewards for the
distributive side of the economic machine. Stalin recognized
some of these difficulties. He endeavored to use his prestige to
correct them and to develop a Bolshevik version of the American
ideal of "service" in the course of his report to the Seventeenth
Party Congress of 1934. His remarks are worth quoting in full
as evidence of the difficulties derived from ideology:

To begin with there is still among a section of Communists a super-
cilious, contemptuous attitude towards trade in general, and towards
Soviet trade in particular. These Communists, save the mark, look
upon Soviet trade as a thing of secondary importance, hardly worth
bothering about, and regard those engaged in trade as doomed. Evi-
dently these people do not realize that their supercilious attitude
towards Soviet trade does not express the Bolshevik point of view,
but rather the point of view of shabby noblemen who are full of am-
bition but lack ammunition. (Applause) These people do not realize
that Soviet trade is our own, Bolshevik, work, and that the workers
employed in trade, including those behind the counter— if only they
work conscientiously— are doing revolutionary, Bolshevik work. (Ap-
plause) It goes without saying that the Party had to give these Com-
munists, save the mark, a slight drubbing and throw their aristocratic
prejudices on the refuse dump.49

In their various attempts to ameliorate this situation, the
Soviet leaders have borrowed from the capitalist arsenal and
endeavored to introduce the competitive incentive into the retail
trade. These efforts parallel, though perhaps less successfully, the
Soviet introduction of the profit motive into the production side
of the economy. On the same occasion cited above, Stalin re-
ported to the Party Congress that the various commissariats had
been ordered by the Party to start trade in the goods manufac-

314 Today's Dilemma

tured by the industries under their control. This led, he claimed
to an extensive improvement in the "competing" cooperative
trade and to a drop in market prices.50

As happens in many cases of cultural borrowing, only the
superficial aspects of an institution were taken over without the
essential supporting arrangements, which in this case would have
involved a general abandonment of socialist principles in favoi
of the free play of market forces. It is not surprising, therefore,
that the difficulties have continued. Nor is it altogether surprising
that the Soviets have continued to try to meet them in the same
way. On November 9, 1946, the Council of Ministers again issued
a decree that required the cooperatives to compete with the state
monopoly of retail trade. Surplus agricultural products, formerly
sold by the peasant on a local open-market basis, under the new
arrangement are purchased by consumer cooperatives managed
by Party officers. These foodstuffs are supposed to be distributed
to the city population at prices not exceeding those charged in
the special stores for the intelligentsia mentioned above.51 Pro-
ducers' cooperatives likewise receive government assistance in
the form of supplies and diminished tax burdens, while the prices
of their products are set by government authorities.52

Some of the ideas associated with the classical doctrine of con-
sumer sovereignty have even been put forth by the Party press,
which has warned the manufacturers of consumers' goods that
the population will not take whatever goods the producer wants
to turn out. "The consumer is a much stricter controller than the
technical control section of some factory or other. Entering a
store he puts to one side merchandise of poor quality and ex-
presses his preference for the products of that establishment
whose trade mark has earned a good reputation." 5S This emphasis
on the consumer as the ultimate arbiter is reminiscent of the
American slogan, "The customer is always right." In the same
issue cited above, Pravda warns the various economic ministries
and lesser economic units to pay more attention to quality and
variety of choice in their products. Now, it is asserted, they spend
more time "on the registration of complaints than on correcting
mistakes." It is unlikely that these admonitions will have much

The Industrial Order 315

effect so long as the underlying conditions of centralized control
over the decisions about what products are to be made, which is
basically independent of consumer pressures, remain a central
aspect of the Soviet system. It also appears that these institu-
tional factors would make it difficult for a system of retail distri-
bution, sensitive to the requirements of the population and
supported by an ideology of service along American lines, to
take effective root in the USSR. It probably will be a long time
before "the customer is always right" becomes an accepted Bol-
shevik slogan.

Summary and conclusions

In order to make their economic system work, the Soviets
have arrived by a trial-and-error process at the stage where they
have borrowed a number of the motivations of capitalism: in-
equality of rewards and incomes, the profit motive, and some of
the superficial aspects of competition. These borrowings do not
provide a warrant for the viewpoint that regards the Soviet
system as closely similar to capitalism. They do provide support
for the assertion that a modern industrial society implies certain
common problems and even certain common solutions. The ex-
treme claim of universal validity for the principles of classical
economics is not warranted according to the Soviet evidence.
But neither is the extreme claim of cultural or institutional rela-
tivism established according to the same evidence.

The motivations generally lumped under the rubric of per-
sonal acquisitiveness, which, as Weber points out, are likely to
crop up under widely disparate social situations, do not receive
the scope and approbation that they do in the United States.
The Soviet economic system is one that keeps them hemmed in
at every turn and channeled into what are considered socially
useful paths. To take their place other motivations and prestige
rewards have been developed. Likewise, other justifications for
the Soviet system have received wide dissemination: allegations
concerning the greater security of the individual, and the system's
claimed freedom from the corrosive effects of crises and un-
employment,

316 Today's Dilemma

In this respect Soviet culture is still a materialist culture. The
virtues claimed for the system are material virtues. There is none
of the contempt for so-called debilitating material comforts dis-
played, if not practiced, by the leaders of Nazi Germany or
Fascist Italy. The Soviet system of values is much closer to the
American system in this respect than it is to Western totalitarian
ideologies, or to the ascetic ideologies of the East.

In this system of values the conflict between authoritarian
and populist elements finds a reflection in economic institutions.
The belief that the masses must be led to their salvation played
its role in the programs of forcible industrialization and collec-
tivization. It may also be traced in the creation of a highly cen-
tralized system for the making of economic decisions. In its
present form this highly centralized system is not yet capable of
distributing to the people efficiently and courteously the objects
it produces. On the one hand, the system emphasizes the desira-
bility of material goods; on the other hand, it is unable to satisfy
this demand. The passage of time will reveal, unless an improb-
able catastrophe intervenes, whether or not this contradiction
can be solved.

In general, however, the Soviets have come closer to achiev-
ing their original goals in the area of industrial institutions,
regarded by their doctrine as crucial, than in any other. They
have succeeded in imposing their ideology to a very great extent,
yielding only at certain points and borrowing just enough from
the capitalist competitors to make their own system function.

14

The Class Struggle in a
Socialist Society

Wages and the claim of class peace

It does not require an overly perceptive eye to recognize that a
struggle among various interest groups for power, prestige, and
economic rewards takes place in the Soviet Union, although its
manifestations are not those made familiar by the corresponding
struggle in Western society. The USSR has developed a distinc-
tive set of institutions under which the rights, duties, and ex-
pected behavior of the participants in this struggle are defined
with varying degrees of clarity. This chapter will describe in
some detail the rights, duties, and expected and actual behavior
of organized industrial workers as one of the major groups com-
peting for a share in the national income and for the other re-
wards of Soviet society. The importance of the problem is indi-
cated by the size of the Soviet trade unions. In contrast to other
countries, nearly all the labor force is organized into unions in
the USSR. Before the war, out of a total of 30 million wage earn-
ers and salaried employees in all branches of the economy, 25
million belonged to the unions, in which membership is theo-
retically voluntary. In 1947, according to official Soviet sources,
the figure for union membership was approximately 27 million.1
At first glance, it appears that the official ideology simply de-
nies the existence of any struggle between workers and employ-
ers, in glaring contradiction to the facts. Closer examination
shows, however, that this denial plays a valuable functional role
in supporting the current system of uneven power relationships
between the managers of Soviet industry and the workers.

318 Today's Dilemma

As was seen in Chapter 8, Trotsky once put forth the idea
that under socialism there could be no such thing as a struggle
between the workers and the managers. Attacked at the time by
Lenin because of the political circumstances surrounding the
introduction of the NEP and the general loosening of Party con-
trols, the same general idea was taken up by Stalin in connection
with the reorganization of the unions that formed part of the
drive for high-speed socialist industrialization.

In its present form the official denial of a class struggle in the
USSR asserts that the working class, together with the whole peo-
ple, owns the means of production. Therefore, since "the exploita-
tion of man by man" has been ended under socialism, the source
of the class struggle has disappeared. The conflicts between em-
ployers and workers that do take place are explained as the re-
sult of "bureaucratic distortions," or, somewhat less frequently,
as the result of personal selfishness and ignorance of the law.2

The assertion that there is no power struggle between the
workers and the employers in the Soviet Union is justified in-
sofar as there is no open conflict over wages, the principal issue
of labor disputes in nonsocialist countries. Soviet writers on
labor relations are agreed that wages cannot be set by collective
agreement between individual employers and individual unions
under a planned economic system, but that instead wages must
be fixed by a central authority.3 The norms of output and the
rates of pay are set by the government, either directly by the
Council of Ministers (formerly Commissars) and the Central
Committee of the Communist Party, or by delegated authority.
The government determines salary rates for white-collar workers
(sluzhashchie) as well. A special commission was established
under the Council of People's Commissars on June 5, 1941, for
this purpose.*

In legal theory, at least, the only decision concerning wages
that can be made by the management of a factory concerns what
rates apply to a given worker or group of workers according to
the qualifications involved.5 According to a decree of the Council
of People's Commissars of June 4, 1938, even the individual com-
missariats or ministries (including those of the Union Republics)

The Class Struggle 319

may not alter the rate scales without the permission of the cen-
tral government.6

From the foregoing it is evident that the doctrine of the im-
possibility of a class struggle under socialism serves among other
purposes to support a highly centralized system for the determina-
tion of wages. In turn, this highly centralized system of wage
determination appears to be an essential feature of the larger
social system and of a planned economy. Long-range calculations
of cost would be impossible on a national basis if wages in vari-
ous industries were subject to the vagaries of a shifting power
struggle between organized labor and organized management.7
Thus the regime has to use the numerous resources at its com-
mand to prevent the emergence of such a struggle, or better, to
keep it within very close limits. There is, however, considerable
evidence to indicate that the regime is by no means uniformly
successful in this effort.

Complaints about actual practice in the determination of
wages strongly suggest that these centralized arrangements tend
to break down, and that the local factory administration enjoys
considerable autonomy in determining the wages of its workers
and employees. Early in 1947 the head of the All-Union Central
Council of Trade Unions, V. V. Kuznetsov, complained that rate
setting was in a highly disorganized state in the USSR as a whole.
Rates based on a rough measurement of output under actual
working conditions in the factory (opytno-statisticheskie normy,
in literal translation, "experience-statistical norms") prevailed
widely. This situation, Kuznetsov added, led to the growth of
"good" and "bad" rates or jobs from the worker s point of view.
The existence of "good" and "bad" rates in turn evidently pro-
duced pressure for the equalization of rates and the consequent
loss of incentives.8 More detailed reports confirm and amplify
Kuznetsov's description. In the factories producing agricultural
equipment, a vital sector of the Soviet postwar economy, output
and rates of pay were set "by eye," while earlier experience in
"scientific" wage setting was either ignored or forgotten. The
rate setters were men of poor education, quite inadequate for the
task. Thus the easiest way out appeared to be in the direction

320 Todays Dilemma

of equalization.9 This pressure for equalization may be compared
to the hostile attitude toward "rate busters" and the limitation of
output practices that have been the subject of widespread study
in American industry. It is a familiar defense reaction against
one factor in the competitive pressures of modern industrial
society.

Probably under pressure from the Party, which set its face
flgfliTigf "petty bourgeois equalization" many years ago, some un-
ions have sought to correct the disorganized system of rate set-
ting and to increase the role of incentives. These actions resemble
superficially the pressure on wages typically exercised by trade
unions in capitalist countries, but derive from entirely different
causes. While the Soviet worker is presumably just as interested
as his capitalist brother in raising his wages, the Soviet unions
serve primarily as organizations for increasing output. The pres-
sures that they exert are directed toward this end. On this ac-
count they frequently demand, at the instigation of the Party,
that as many types of work as possible be transferred from pay-
ments based on time to piece-rate payments.10 Likewise the de-
mand, expressed by one writer, for a greater role for the unions
in the process of setting wage rates must be interpreted within
the general setting of the Party's continuing drive to increase
both output and incentives.11

Labor-management bargaining in the USSR

Certain additional superficial similarities to labor-capital re-
lationships in capitalist societies may also be found in the Soviet
version of collective agreements between unions and manage-
ment. Collective agreements concerning wages were drawn up
at frequent intervals and were the regular practice in Soviet in-
dustry during the NEP. With the introduction of widespread plan-
ning, they were abandoned between 1933 and 1935.12 During
February and March 1947, the practice of annual collective bar-
gaining was revived.18

Wages are, however, specifically excluded as a subject of
bargaining in the new collective agreements. The Ail-Union Cen-
tral Council of Trade Unions (AUCCTU), in its decree that

The Class Struggle 321

marked the official revival of these agreements, ordered that
wage rates established by the government should be included in
the collective agreement. It also ordered the unions to see to it
that wage and salary rates not approved by the government
should not find their way into the agreement. The unions are at
the same time required to do all they can to increase the use of
incentive payments by finding out what jobs are paid on a straight
time basis and how many of them can be transferred to a piece-
rate basis.14

The agreements are supposed to contain other matters of
definite interest to the workers, such as the amount of housing
to be undertaken by the management, construction and repair
of dining rooms, factory stores, and the rating of specific jobs.15
Soviet writers describe the agreements as an important weapon
in organizing the masses for the fulfillment and overfulfillment
of the Five Year Plan, and for improving the material and cul-
tural position of the workers, salaried employees, and technical
personnel.16 These statements indicate that the main purpose of
the agreements is to provide an additional production incentive
to the workers by giving them a stronger sense of participation
in the determination of working conditions.

The formal procedures by which the agreements are drawn
up and ratified could be used by either a strong union or a
strong managerial group to impose its will. However, the re-
quirements of economic planning and the watchful eye of the
Party provide little room for any contest.

According to the chairman of the All-Union Central Council
of Trade Unions, the collective agreements pass through four
main stages, First, the ministries and the central committees of
trade-union organizations draw up "directive letters" containing
the major points of the collective agreement. Then the central
committees of the unions involved send out model agreements to
the factory committees or locals of their respective unions. After
receiving the directive letter, the factory director and the factory
committee of the union work out the actual agreement. Disagree-
ments that arise at this point are allegedly settled by the repre-
sentatives of the union central committee and of the factory

322 Todays Dilemma

director's superiors, that is, the trust or ministry. This agreement
is then submitted to the workers for comment and suggestions.
Corrections and alterations may, at least in theory, be included
after submission to the workers. The Party organizations within
the factory and among the workers are supposed to guide the
discussions following submission of the agreement. Pravda
(March 14, 1947) stated that they must play a leading role at
this stage of the agreement's formulation. Both the union factory
committee and the factory director must be prepared to present
to the workers a detailed explanation of why any given sugges-
tion cannot be included in the agreement. After this has been
done, the agreement is signed by the factory committee and the
director and registered with both the union central committee and
the appropriate ministry.17

The collective agreement is defined as a form of mutual obli-
gation between the administration of the factory and the factory
committee representing the workers, which sets out the rights and
duties of each party. The major points in the agreement relate to
the obligations of each party in connection with the fulfillment
of the plant's task in the current Five Year Plan, and are concerned
for the most part with increasing output and eliminating stop-
pages and breakdowns and similar matters.18 Perhaps the points
that touch the interests of the worker most directly are those
concerned with the obligations of the plant to increase the hous-
ing facilities of the workers, and those concerned with the intro-
duction and improvement of safety devices. It is on these points,
perhaps, that a limited amount of real bargaining may take place.

The unions have been frequently criticized of late for their
failure to present their own positions with sufficient vigor. For
example, the central committee of the coal miners' union in the
western regions of the USSR (the coal ministry is divided into
western and eastern divisions) has been blamed for failing to
obtain from the ministry an assignment of funds for safety pur-
poses.19 Another report comments on the widespread failure to
introduce safety devices in Soviet industry and to take other
measures for protecting the health of the workers. According to
the writer, the amount that the factory administration is going to

The Class Struggle 323

spend on such matters ought to be included in the collective
agreement. In addition, he criticizes the unions for not being
energetic enough in pressing for such measures.20

According to V. V. Kuznetsov, chairman of the All-Union
Council of Trade Unions, the new collective agreements should
include in black and white the amount of funds the factory ad-
ministration will devote to housing purposes. The unions are
required to watch over the actual execution of these promises.
That the housing question is a very sore point among the workers
is revealed by Kuznetsov's remark that during 1946 the various
ministries completed on the average only 57.9 per cent of their
housing plans, while in some cases the percentage was much
lower, for example, 46.6 per cent in the case of the Ministry of
Heavy Industry, and 37.6 per cent in the case of the Ministry
of Agricultural Machinery.21

Labor-management relations within the plant

Present-day group relationships .between the workers and
the administration within the individual factory reveal the same
process of creating rules to define the rights and duties of com-
peting groups; but here, too, the existence of such competition
is officially denied, just as it is in the larger field of relationships
between the unions and the various economic ministries. The
factory administration in its efforts to enforce industrial discipline
enjoys a large measure of support from the bureaucratic appara-
tus of the regime, including the secret police. But this support
is neither unlimited nor blind. Letters to the editor of the union
daily, Trud, concerning violations of labor law may precipitate
an investigation by the Procurator's office.22 Or a factory director
may be discharged for personal roughness.28 In general, the Party,
which has its eye continually on production, intervenes to check
what it considers to be abuses or practices that lower productive
efficiency. The chief advantage on the side of the workers in
this contest is the general shortage of manpower and the conse-
quent demand for their services.

General rules of internal factory discipline were laid down by
the Council of People's Commissars on January 18, 1941. They

324 Todays Dilemma

include such matters as procedures for hiring and firing; the
conscientious fulfillment by the worker of his tasks, including the
proper care of machinery and socialist property in general and
the obligation to work the full working day; and responsibilities
of the administration concerning safety devices, and so forth.
These general rules may be supplemented by special agreements
between the director of the factory and the union committee
within the factory.24

Unlike the collective farms and cooperatives, disciplinary
penalties are applied in industry by the factory administration.
The possible infractions and penalties are set out by law. In the
case of some heavy industries, the foreman is the individual who
metes out the penalty.25 In legal theory, at least, the worker has
the right to appeal to what is known as a conflict commission
(R}&—Ra&senochnO'konfliktnye kommissii, literally "appraise-
ment and conflict commissions") concerning disciplinary penalties
imposed by the administration.26 However, the complaint of a
worker in the field of transportation, long a major bottleneck in
Soviet economic life, is instead passed through his immediate
superior to the individual next above the latter in the hierarchy,
who must render a decision within three days of receiving the
complaint.27 It would appear that the worker's opportunity for
obtaining satisfaction for even a legitimate grievance is strictly
limited under these conditions.

The activities of the conflict commissions have been rarely
described in the daily or trade-union newspapers during recent
years, though there is evidence that, before the war, management
regarded these commissions as thorns in its side. According to a
legal textbook, they are composed of representatives of the factory
administration and the workers, usually the union factory com-
mittee, chosen on an equal basis. In 1933 they lost all power
to affect wage rates. Among their asserted present functions is
the examination of conflicts that arise from the transfer of a
worker from one type of work to another, payments in the case
of spoilage or failure to fulfill the required norms, and discharges
for incompetence.28 According to one report, the oblast9 commit-
tee of the union reviews the decisions of the conflict commission

The Class Struggle 325

that are favorable to the factory administration, since the union
factory committee is frequently ignorant of the legal questions
involved.29

The manpower shortage largely eliminates from the employer's
arsenal the possibility of firing a worker for any reason except the
grossest forms of incompetence. It is difficult to estimate accu-
rately the significance of this factor in the silent struggle between
the workers and the managers, but it is undoubtedly very im-
portant. It probably prevents managers from discharging workers
on purely capricious or personal grounds. To what extent this
advantage is offset by the possibility that a worker may be sent
to a concentration camp for fractious behavior constitutes a nearly
insoluble puzzle with the information available now. However,
Dallin and Nicolaevsky, who cannot be accused of partiality
toward the USSR, make no mention of industrial workers in their
list of the three main types of inhabitants of the forced-labor
camps. Since there is no indication of the specific sources upon
which the classification is based, it probably represents the gen-
eral impression of the authors, based chiefly on scattered accounts
by individuals who have managed to get out of the camps. As
such the evidence cannot be dismissed, but it is very far from
conclusive.80

Soviet legislation, together with Soviet comments thereon,
throws considerable light on the advantages enjoyed by the
worker because of the manpower shortage and the regime's
efforts to prevent the workers from exploiting the advantage
effectively. The general rules of labor discipline, set forth in the
decree of January 18, 1941, did not take up the question of firing
a worker for a breach of discipline. For a brief time there was
some question in legal circles whether such discharges were
possible at all. By a decree of the Supreme Court of the USSR
(December 25, 1941) it was decided that disciplinary discharges
were possible only under three simultaneous conditions: (1) if
the worker repeatedly violated discipline, that is, refused several
times to carry out an order of the administration; (2) if the
worker had already been penalized or rebuked on some previous
occasion for a violation of discipline; (3) if the discharge of

326 Todays Dilemma

such a worker would not bring about a loss in production, but
was necessary for strengthening internal discipline.31 On June 26,
1940, the Supreme Soviet made voluntary absence from work or
leaving a job without permission a criminal offense. Although
present-day Soviet discussion of this decree considers it a measure
of defense and preparation for the conflict with Hitler,32 the
law has not yet been repealed.83 A decision of the Supreme Court
of the USSR on August 15, 1940, defined voluntary absence as
absence from work without adequate cause for more than twenty
minutes, or for more than three times in one month, or four times
in two successive months. Appearance on the job when drunk
is also included under absenteeism.34 Among other fine points in
the discussion at this time was whether falling asleep on the job
constituted absenteeism. The phrase "without adequate cause"
obviously permits a good deal of latitude in applying the law.
Although legal attempts to define the circumstances of adequate
cause include at least eleven possible combinations, the Soviet
Supreme Court on December 12, 1940, tacitly gave up the attempt
to enclose them all in the fine meshes of the law by ordering that
all relevant facts must be considered in an attempt to determine
whether or not such adequate cause existed.35 These facts sug-
gest that the severity of the law was much mitigated by practical
difficulties in its application.

The significance of full employment and the manpower short-
age is also revealed by the report that before the decree of June
26, 1940, workers deliberately absented themselves from the job
in order to obtain a discharge. Afterward they continued to
attempt to obtain such a discharge by other violations of labor
discipline.86 According to the Ail-Union Central Council of Trade
Unions, which supported and helped to promulgate this decree,
the attempts to take advantage of the manpower shortage were
largely by younger workers and salaried employees new to in-
dustry. However, the assertion by the same organization that
such practices were limited to 3 or 4 per cent of the workers can-
not be considered conclusive evidence as to their extent.87

It is worth while to point out that the conclusion, often based
on this decree, that Soviet workers and salaried employees have
no ODDOrtunitv to leave their iob is incorrect. A worker nr s

The Class Struggle 327

employee may leave a specific job by mutual agreement with the
employer,38 although it may be assumed that in the case of a
valuable worker or employee the employer's acquiescence is
difficult to obtain. Several other possibilities for the worker to
change jobs are set forth in the law, including opportunities for
the husband or other family members to be transferred to differ-
ent positions in other parts of the country.39 The worker may have
recourse to the courts if the employer who is obliged to grant
such permission to leave the job refuses the permission.40

Power relationships within the unions

At the beginning of the Five Year Plans the slight degree of
independence that the unions had obtained vis-^-vis the Soviet
state was sharply curtailed. Former union leaders were replaced
by men who would carry out Stalin's policies of increased pro-
ductivity and increased incentives. To those aspiring to union
leadership it was made clear that the road to advancement lay
not in the militant defense of the workers' interests versus fyeir
chief employer, the state, but in increasing production for the
state.

Even during the NEP period power within the unions had
been effectively concentrated in the hands of the leaders despite
the unions' democratic organization, as has been clearly shown
with abundant evidence in the study by Woldemar Koch.41 In the
subsequent period of the thirties and the war years, this concen-
tration of power in the hands of the union leadership has in-
creased rather than diminished. A fundamental reason for this
centralization of power, not only in the unions but in the Soviet
state as a whole, was the series of sacrifices demanded of the
population in order to make the USSR into a first-class industrial
power. To the Kremlin leadership voluntary means, though
widely used, did not appear adequate to achieve the required
goals.

In this respect the Party faced a dilemma. It had taken power
in the name of a material improvement in the condition of the
masses. To. approach this goal, which demands as its obvious pre-
requisite military security, the Party had to demand immediate
and continued sacrifices and to check not only the unions* auton-

328 Todays Dilemma

omy but also much of what remained of the rank and file's power
over its leaders. At the same time, after weakening the workers'
means of self-defense, the Kremlin could not afford to let the
pressure upon the workers grow too great. The reaction to this
situation has been a series of "cavalry raids" by the Kremlin for
the restoration of union democracy. One finds here the same
pattern of continuous search for enthusiastic allegiance expressed
through democratic forms as in the Soviets, while the same factors
prevent the continued operation of these democratic forms. There
is a repeated tendency to fall back upon reliance on orders and
directives from above, followed by campaigns for "re-democratiza-
tion," all in a continuing cycle. One of these campaigns took
place between 1935 and 1937, in the course of which Stalin
ordered the restoration of trade-union democracy, the accounta-
bility of union officers to their membership, the reestablishment of
collective bargaining, and similar measures.42

Evidence in the present-day press indicates that the abuses
denounced at that time continued up until the war and were
intensified during it. Early in 1947 the Ail-Union Council of
Trade Unions pointed out that during the war elections and re-
ports of union officers took place infrequently and irregularly, and
that cooption of union officials replaced elective practices. Fla-
grant violations of union democracy still occurred in some places,
the Council asserted.43 Workers and salaried employees are no
longer willing to put up with the violations of trade-union de-
mocracy that were tolerated during the war, according to the
leading editorial of a recent issue of the Council's journal. The
editorial goes on to say that an end must be put to the practice
whereby union leaders sit in their offices and never visit the
factories.44

During the postwar years the regime has conducted a wide-
spread campaign for the revival of democratic centralism in the
unions. This campaign is closely associated with the revival of a
limited form of collective bargaining. The Tenth Trade Union
Congress, a general gathering of delegates from all the unions to
elect the officials of the All-Union Council of Trade Unions and
to settle other organizational matters, was held on April 19, 1949.

The Class Struggle 329

Previous to this date, elections had been held in a number of union
organizations. In the Moscow area alone, reports to the member-
ships and elections had taken place in 1160 organizations before
June 1947. The work of 195 local units of the unions was declared
unsatisfactory at these meetings, and 90 per cent of the member-
ship of the factory committees was replaced.45 In the USSR as a
whole, 70 per cent of the membership of the factory committees
and local committees of the unions had been renewed by August
1947.46

In only a few instances, however, has the turnover affected
the union central committees.47 This fact strengthens the hypothe-
sis that in the unions, as in other areas of Soviet life, the Kremlin
leadership is employing democratic procedures to turn the hostil-
ity of the masses against the lower ranks of the bureaucracy, thus
deflecting this hostility away from the major sources of power.
The operation of this device in connection with both the Soviets
and the Party has already been noted in earlier chapters. It is
also quite clear that the workers may not anticipate any far-
reaching changes in policy or leadership. Another editorial in the
AUCCTU journal asserts that the persons chosen for leadership in
trade-union work must be devoted to the Party of Lenin and
Stalin,48 a qualification for leadership that might indeed be con-
sidered axiomatic in the Soviet Union. The same editorial points
out that union leaders "are called upon to realize within the
unions the decisions of the Party." Elsewhere, the Party's failure
to guide union activities is regarded as a fault to be corrected,
and it was forecast that the newly elected Central Committee
would "under the leadership of the Party organizations" correct
the faults of its predecessor.49

Despite the qualification that changes in policy and leadership
personnel must take place within the general framework of Party
control, it appears from the accounts of the election meetings that
the rank and file enjoy the opportunity to present some of its real
grievances. As in other departments of Soviet political life, the
official doctrine regards the occasion of an officer's report to his
electors as a serious occasion— an "examination"— when he must
take account publicly for his failures as well as for his successes.60

330 Today's Dilemma

The complaints run along a generally similar pattern. Speakers at
one meeting criticize sharply the negligent attitude of a factory
committee toward social services and the introduction of safety
devices.51 At another, the criticism of the central committee con-
cerns the latter's failure to make more widely available the ex-
perience of high-speed and Stakhanovite workers and for inade-
quate propaganda work. In this instance, the tone and content
of the report suggests that the local Party unit dominated the
meeting and applied the Party line in a rather mechanical fashion.
In another, the familiar complaint is raised that the factory
managers and the union leaders together failed to pay adequate
attention to the housing and cultural needs of the workers. In
still another, the criticism concerns the failure of the union leader-
ship to present the organization's claims with sufficient energy
before the ministry concerned, as weh1 as its failure to support
the lower union organizations in their legitimate demands upon
the managers.52

This dependence of the local factory committees upon higher
echelons of the union for support is confirmed by other sources.
In this particular aspect of the concentration of power, the Soviet
unions do not appear to differ significantly from their American
or British counterparts. In many affairs concerned with the draw-
ing up and the execution of the collective agreement, the factory
committee finds it necessary to call upon the central committee
or the oblasf committee of the union for assistance.58 A further
indication of the powers of higher union echelons over the factory
committee is the right of the oblasf committee to call for new
elections in the factory committee when the latter's work appears
unsatisfactory to the higher authorities.54

There are indications that the trend toward a revival of the
authority of the lowest levels of the union hierarchy may already
have run its course by the end of 1948. In October 1948, the
AUCCTU announced the establishment of regional (republic,
krai, and oblasf) union councils for the coordination of union
activities.55 Several explanations were offered for this step. Kuznet-
sov, the AUCCTU chairman, declared: "Certain central com-
mittees of the unions revealed themselves unable to control
systematically the oblasf union organs, especially in distant ob-

The Class Struggle 331

last's. The lack of control brings about among the leaders of
certain oblasf committees a sense of complacency and self-satis-
faction. Deprived of daily leadership on the part of the union
central committee, they fall unawares into serious errors and
cease to take note of them." 56 The creation of the regional union
councils was described as an important step toward the correction
of this situation. Elsewhere, the Party has expressed the hope that
these councils will strengthen the connection between the local
Party and union organizations. In the past, it is pointed out, Party
leadership in union matters has been weakened by the absence of
a single union center and by the presence of a large number of
union branch committees.57 The third reason, and the one that
received the most publicity, was the desirability of a central unit
at the regional level for the exchange of experiences among the
unions concerning methods for speeding up industrial produc-
tion.58

Conclusions

From this sketch of labor-management relationships in the
USSR, it is clear that the unions are not strong, independent
centers of power and militant defenders of the industrial workers.
There never was any intention on the part of the Soviet leaders
that the unions should develop into this type of organization in the
Soviet state. It is perhaps equally clear that the Soviet unions
are not the cowed hirelings of a ruthless, bureaucratic, industrial
management. The workers have the power to bring pressure on
the management, and indirectly on the regime, to satisfy some of
their needs, even though a substantial case could be made to
show that this power is less in the Soviet Union than in the United
States. The situation, as a whole, is one in which the state con-
trols both competitors— labor and management— allocating to each
that share of rewards which seems empirically necessary to make
the economic system function. In this situation the rewards left
open by the state to be achieved by competitive economic and
political struggle are almost nil. Wages and salaries are directly
excluded. The system of strictly limited antagonistic cooperation
is supported by a set of ideological formulas that deny or divert
the antagonism and stress the cooperation.

15

Revolution from Above: The
Transformation of the
Peasantry

Collectivization and directed social change

Of the series of crucial problems facing the Bolsheviks upon the
seizure of power, their relationships with the peasantry were
destined to affect the lives of a larger number of people than any
other. In the late twenties and early thirties the Russian Com-
munists found themselves compelled to reorganize the life of
the peasants and to introduce a new way of life among the most
tradition-bound mass of the population. As the Party itself sub-
sequently acknowledged, this was a revolution carried out from
above. For some decades before this undertaking it had been
almost axiomatic among many students of human society that
such an action could not possibly succeed "Stateways cannot
change folkways," an aphorism based upon Sumner, was accepted
as an accurate statement of the possibilities of directed social
change. Therefore, the consequences of the collectivization of
agriculture in the Soviet Union provide a valuable check upon a
major assumption in the social sciences. A survey of official Soviet
goals concerning the organization of peasant life, the extent to
which these goals are realized, and the factors underlying devia-
tions between official hopes and actual institutionalized behavior,
throws considerable light not only upon the Soviet social system
as a whole, but also upon more general questions of planned social
change.

Transformation of Peasantry 333

The Party discussions preceding and accompanying collectivi-
zation indicate that with this policy the regime hoped to accom-
plish several objectives. In the first place, it hoped to assure a
reliable and adequate supply of grain for the growing urban and
industrial areas of the country. In the second place, it hoped to
put an end to the inherent disadvantages of small-scale peasant
agriculture, which is unable to make use of modern machinery
and scientific methods and can increase its output only by
intensifying the labor spent upon the land. Finally, the regime
hoped to cut the roots from under the wealthier peasants who
were antagonistic to the Soviet regime and to organize the rest
of the peasantry in such a way that it would be the Bolsheviks'
ally instead of a potential enemy. After trying other forms, the
Communist leadership decided that the kolkhoz was the organiza-
tional form best adapted to serving these ends.1

The internal structure of the kolkhoz became stabilized in
approximately its present form during the year 1935, when the
regime finally decided upon a mixed system of socialized and
individual property.2 The kolkhoz is a supposedly voluntary union
of peasants who have agreed to pool their land and some of their
other resources in order to realize the advantages of cooperative
agriculture. Actually, the formation of these unions took place
only under strong pressure by the Communist Party. According
to the Model Statute of 1935, certain means of production, for
example, working livestock, ploughs, harrows, seed stocks, and
farm buildings, are held in common by the members of the
kolkhoz. The land is owned by the state, but its use is granted
in perpetuity to the collective farm. It may not be bought or
sold. The services of agricultural machinery— tractors, threshing
machines, combines, and so forth— are provided by the Machine-
Tractor Stations ( MTS ) , operated by the Ministry of Agriculture,
in return for deliveries of grain.

However, the collective farmers are permitted to retain be-
tween one quarter and one half a hectare of land (in special
districts an entire hectare or 2.5 acres) for their own personal use.
In addition, in the basic farming areas each household may keep
one cow, two calves, one or two pigs with their sucklings, up to

334 Todays Dilemma

a total of ten sheep or goats, a maximum of twenty beehives, and
an unlimited quantity of poultry and rabbits. Slight variations
from these amounts are permitted to suit geographical and cul-
tural conditions. Thus, in nomad regions where agriculture is
nonexistent, the household may legally possess eight to ten cows
and five to eight camels. By 1938 there were 242,000 kolkhozy in
the USSR, occupying 99.3 per cent of the sown area of the
country.3 The collective farmers are required to turn over to the
government specified quantities of grain and other produce, in-
cluding that grown on their personal plots. The state itself de-
termines the prices paid for this produce. In the case of the major
crops, such as grain and cotton, about 90 per cent of the market-
able produce goes to the state in this fashion.4

Selection of leadership

According to the official Soviet ideology, the selection of lead-
ers within the kolkhoz takes place by democratic methods. A
recent textbook on collective-farm legislation declares that kol-
khoz democracy represents an "inseparable part of Soviet socialist
democracy." 5 In other words, kolkhoz democracy represents part
of the general Communist ideal of voluntary and spirited support
for Soviet policies, sparked by the enthusiastic devotees of the
Party. The leading officials of the collective farm, its chairman
and managing board, are supposed to be chosen by the general
gathering of the kolkhoz membership. They are theoretically re-
sponsible to this body and may be removed by it. The practice
of appointment by an external authority is specifically con-
demned.6 Thus the control of the collective farm is alleged to be
the task of the kolkhozniki themselves, "since they alone are the
masters of their own farm." 7

Political necessities have brought about wide departures from
the ideal of kolkhoz democracy, as defined in the Soviets' own
terms. During the first years of collectivization, kolkhoz chairmen
were usually appointed by the government from the ranks of
politically reliable urban workers. As a rule, these men had little
or no experience in farming and were generally alien to rural
life. Coming from a different cultural background and lacking a

Transformation of Peasantry 335

knowledge of farming, they were often at the mercy of the
peasants' hostility. This situation was reflected in a high rate of
turnover in the collective-farm leadership. As late as 1937 only
9.2 per cent of all chairmen and 8.9 per cent of brigade leaders
had held their posts for five years or more,8

The Party's need to gain control of the peasantry and the
bitter conflicts of the thirties also found their reflection in the
official doctrine. In 1933 Stalin declared, "the collective farms can
be either Bolshevik or anti-Soviet. And if we do not hold the
leadership in one or more kolkhozy, that means that anti-Soviet
elements will lead them.'* 9 This remark by Stalin points up once
more the sharp difference between Western liberal conceptions of
democracy and Soviet interpretations. The latter are heavily
colored by the crisis-strewn conditions under which they have
grown up, by the atmosphere of combat and tension generated
ever since Lenin's appearance on the political scene. To a Com-
munist there is nothing contradictory in the statement, "Collec-
tive-farm democracy is maintained as indestructible with the full
strength of the dictatorship of the working class," or the equally
typical remark, "Where there is no Bolshevik leadership, there is
no kolkhoz democracy, since kolkhoz democracy in its essence is
a method of Bolshevik leadership in the kolkhozy." 10 Nor is there
any overt awareness that such ideas might run counter to the
claim, expressed with equal frequency, that the collective fann-
ers are alone the masters of their own affairs.

To date it is evident that the Party in day-to-day practice has
not yet been able to get away from the appointment of collective-
farm chairmen, even though the practice is frowned upon in the
highest circles. As recently as September 1946, a decree issued
over Stalin's signature revealed that chairmen of kolkhozy were
often removed by local soviet and Party organizations without
even informing the kolkhoz membership.11 The Party is still also
troubled by the high rate of turnover among collective-farm
leaders. In a speech before the Party Central Committee, A. A.
Andreev, a Politburo member and trouble shooter in fanning
matters, pointed out in 1947 that 38 per cent of the kolkhoz chair-
men had been in their jobs for less than a year, 34 per cent be-

336 Todays Dilemma

tween one and three years, and only 28 per cent for more than
three years.12

The problem of obtaining adequate leadership may in time be
eased somewhat, since the Party has greatly increased its member-
ship in the rural areas during and since the war. In 1947 there
were 61,211 Party primary organizations in the collective farms,
a very marked increase over the 1941 figure of 29/723.13 However,
there were, according to Andreev's report, 222,000 kolkhozy in
1947, which would mean that on the average there would be only
one Party unit for each three or four kolkhozy. In addition, fre-
quent remarks in the Soviet press indicate that the new recruits
to the Party are far from thoroughly indoctrinated. Therefore,
they do not as yet constitute a reliable corps of leaders.

Formulation and execution of policy

In a nonsocialist society the individual farmer makes his de-
cisions on what to plant, how to grow it, and how to market his
produce within the framework of the state of the market (which
may be affected by government policies), climate and weather,
and local custom. In other words, the major decisions of the indi-
vidual farmer are strongly influenced by factors that are beyond
the individual's control.

Within a very different institutional setting the same is true
of the chief agricultural unit, the collective farm, in the socialist
society of the USSR. The kolkhoz must operate within the institu-
tional framework of a socialist planned economy. This means that
the basic decisions on what to grow are determined by the govern-
ment, a requirement that conflicts with the official doctrine that
the kolkhoz is a democratic social unit which is the master of its
own fate. According to the Model Statute and legal textbooks, the
first obligation of the kolkhoz is to execute its part in the general
government plan for agriculture and industry, and to turn over
to the government its share of agricultural produce. In theory,
the kolkhoz has its own production plan, which is geared in to
the general plan of the country as a whole, and which is worked
out and confirmed by the kolkhoz membership.14 The plan comes
down the hierarchy to the kolkhoz by way of the rayon executive

Transformation of Peasantry 337

committee, the local organ of the soviet with which the kolkhoz
has a number of other important connections. Supposedly the
kolkhoz may make alterations in the plan and send it back to the
rayon executive committee. The latter has the legal power to
change the plan only if it does not guarantee the execution of the
general government program.15 Actually, it is unlikely that the
collective farm can make any serious alterations in the plan,
though there are no doubt a number of upward revisions of
planned production suggested by local Party members and other
activists.

The ways in which the government has attempted to control
agricultural production and secure its share of farm output have
varied a great deal since the establishment of the collective farms.
The continual search for new methods, whether forceful or volun-
tary, indicates that the problem is by no means satisfactorily
solved as yet. We need mention only some of the more recent de-
velopments. Before 1939 the government attempted to allocate to
each kolkhoz individually the type and quantity of grain to be
produced. In 1939 individual allocation was abandoned, and the
collective farms were permitted to vary the amount and types
grown so long as general government plans were fulfilled. In 1940
a new incentive arrangement provided that the amounts to be
delivered would be based upon the amount of arable land avail-
able for each kolkhoz.™ In February 1947 a central government
inspection service was set up for determining the amount of the
harvests. Among the reasons advanced for establishing this serv-
ice was the assertion that collective farmers were in the habit
of underestimating the amount of their crops. Therefore, the
inspectors were to be removed from local "anti-governmental"
influences.17 These frequent changes suggest that the regime has
not yet found a satisfactory way of gearing the farms into the
machinery of planning and of overcoming local centrifugal forces.

Such a system of planned agricultural production requires a
large and complex administrative machine, whose activities neces-
sarily limit the power of the kolkhoz to determine its own affairs.
Several sectors of the Soviet bureaucracy compete with one an-
other in the field of agricultural administration. The executive

338 Today's Dilemma

committees of the local (rayon) Soviets are charged with im-
portant supervisory functions. They transmit to the kolkhoz the
government's plans and assigned tasks. They supervise the kol-
khoz's estimates of income and expenditure. Finally, they bear the
primary responsibility for seeing that the kolkhoz carries out its
promised deliveries to the state.18 At harvest time the Soviet press
is full of exhortations to the local Soviets to make sure that the
deliveries are carried out on schedule.

The network of Machine-Tractor Stations forms another chan-
nel of Party control. Today the political assistant to the director
of the MTS is a Communist who has the function of general
trouble shooter in the area.19 In addition to other duties, the MTS
is required by its contract with the collective farm to give the
latter help in setting up its production plan, organizing crop rota-
tion, arranging an efficient distribution of tasks among the kolkhoz
membership, and supervising the distribution of income among
them.20

Finally, the Party rayon committees are supposed to be in
charge of all Party work, including that of the MTS, within the
area under their jurisdiction.21 Since the Party guides, directly or
indirectly, the work of all the above organizations, it may be
assumed that the competition among them is kept to a minimum.
The difficulties that do arise appear to be those of divided re-
sponsibility, since there are frequent complaints in the press about
a passive attitude on the part of all of these organizations.

As the preceding information has suggested, the types of de-
cisions that can be made within the kolkhoz are in practice of a
distinctly secondary nature. This fact automatically limits the
effective area of kolkhoz democracy and internal decisions to a
very narrow range.

According to the Model Statute of 1935, the managing board
of the kolkhoz has the important responsibility of working out the
norms of payment for each task in the form of 'labor days."
Afterward the norms are supposed to be confirmed by a general
gathering of the membership.22 The labor day is the unit used
for measuring the amount of work and skill required to complete
a specific job. Thus a day's work on one job may be rated at less

Transformation of Peasantry 339

than a labor day, while a day's work on another job may be
rated at more than a labor day. In addition, the managing board
is responsible for the allocation of labor to the different tasks of
plowing, sowing, caring for the stock, and so forth, within the
kolkhoz,23 although the MTS may provide assistance in this in-
ternal administrative task. The managing board is also responsible
for discipline on the farm. In practice, the chairman tends to usurp
these functions from both the managing board and the general
assembly, and to make decisions on his own about rates of pay
and the allocation of labor.24

In theory, the general gathering of the kolkhoz membership
controls the use of the farm's funds. The gathering is supposed
to approve the estimates of income and expenditure in both
monetary and natural form. It is likewise supposed to determine
the actual value of the labor day, that is, to determine the quantity
of natural produce and money that may be distributed at the end
of the year to the members in accord with the number of labor
days they have earned. These tasks, too, are frequently usurped
by the kolkhoz chairman.25 The theoretical functions of the kol-
khoz assembly also include the election of kolkhoz officers. Pravda
has found it necessary, however, to use its editorial columns to
remind overzealous Party members that the kolkhozniki must
make full use of their right to nominate candidates and to vote
down those whom they disapprove.26

In the collective farms, as elsewhere in the Soviet social
system, the repeating cycle of alternating authoritarian and demo-
cratic procedures may be observed. The political necessity for
strict control combined with the necessities for control inherent
in a planned economic system bring about an extension of authori-
tarian practices, a multiplication of orders, directives, and the like,
while democratic procedures and the rights of the rank and file
fall into abeyance. This situation in turn produces a diminution
of the enthusiasm upon which the regime depends. It may create
outright opposition or, in other cases, intensify existing opposi-
tion. At such a point the regime typically engages in a campaign
of re-democratization, in which the democratic aspects of its
ideology are given not only lip service but receive additional reali-

340 Todays Dilemma

zation in practice. In the collective farms this stage was reached
again early in 1947, when the Party ordered that general gather-
ings of the rank-and-file membership be held in all of the kolkhozy
of the Soviet Union before February 15 of that year.27 This action
parallels the re-democratization campaigns carried out in the
Soviets, the trade unions, and to a somewhat lesser extent in the
Party itself. It is part of a larger pattern of postwar political
activity in the Soviet Union.

Incentives and status differentials

The Communist leaders of Russia have endeavored to intro-
duce into the collective farms a system of incentive arrangements
and organized inequality similar to that which prevails in in-
dustry. On February 28, 1933, the Commissariat of Agriculture
issued a model scale of payments, which rated different types
of farming tasks into seven grades, with different payments for
each. According to this scale, the man who completes the daily
norm of accomplishment for a task in grade seven receives a
credit of two labor days. The man who completes the daily norm
of accomplishment for a task in grade one receives only a half
day's credit.28 On April 21, 1940, additional premiums in cash,
based on the annual income of the farm, were decreed for the
farm chairmen in the eastern sections of the USSR.29

As in industry, there are indications that a significant number
of the farmers have successfully resisted the application of these
competitive pressures. The Party has complained that the norms
of accomplishment are frequently set too low, and that the local
organs of authority pay little attention to their application.30 In
a similar vein Andreev has attacked the practice of petty-bour-
geois equality (uravnilovka) in the collective farms and the
failure to relate payments to the amount harvested. 8X

In order to indicate the responsibility of the individual for
an assigned task, as well as to arouse individual interest, col-
lective-farm organization provides for a minute division of labor.
Collective farmers are divided into brigades, and within the
brigades into detachments. So far as possible each brigade and
each detachment is kept at the same task for a full season. Each

Transformation of Peasantry 341

brigade is responsible for a specified portion of the collective-
farm property, which is supposed to be described in an exact list
and registered with the farm chairman. The brigade is supposed
to retain the same responsibilities for a full production cycle, that
is, a year in the case of most crops, and not less than three years
in the case of livestock.32 The brigadier is responsible for the
organization of work within the brigade, and for recording the
number of labor days with which each individual under his com-
mand is credited. His position is roughly that of a rural fore-
man.33

In 1947 and 1948 the system of individual incentives was de-
veloped even further. By a decree of the Council of Ministers of
April 19, 1948, which elaborated on an earlier Party decision
published on February 28, 1947, the "recommendation" was made
to the collective farms to make payments in labor days to the
brigades and detachments directly dependent upon the fulfill-
ment of the Plan. For each per cent by which the Plan was over-
fulfilled, the brigades and detachments should receive an addi-
tional credit of 1 per cent in labor days. For each per cent of
underfulfillment, there should likewise be subtracted 1 per cent
in labor days from the payments made to the brigades and detach-
ments, down to a maximum deduction of 25 per cent.34

Special problems occur in connection with the differential
rewards to be offered agronomists and other technical specialists.
Owing to the general shortage of qualified administrative per-
sonnel in the USSR, there are strong pressures pushing scientifi-
cally trained personnel into administrative rather than scientific
work. Some idea of the enormous number of people in adminis-
trative work connected with the kolkhozy may be gleaned from
the fact that in 1941, for the 27,000 kolkhozy of the eastern
Ukraine, there were over 29,000 responsible officials in control
agencies.35 Allegedly at Stalin's personal suggestion, an attempt
was made in the decree of February 27, 1947, to diminish the
flow of scientific skill toward administrative work and to direct the
bureaucrat technicians into the field by reducing the salary of
those who held desk jobs by 25 per cent.36

Since so much of the collective farm's produce is taken by the

342 Today's Dilemma

government, there are limitations on the operation of personal
incentives in the collective-farm system. It is estimated that be-
tween 1937 and 1939 only about 40 per cent of the produce and
55 per cent of the cash income was distributed among the col-
lective farmers themselves.37 Another writer reports Soviet figures
showing that in 1938 only 26.9 per cent of the gross yield of grain
was distributed to the farmers in payment of labor days. More
than 90 per cent of the grain that reached the market was sold to
the state at prices fixed by the latter.38

The operation of the system of incentives, together with wide
variations in fertility and natural resources, has apparently pro-
duced a much wider range of differences in wealth among kol-
khozy than within a single kolkhoz. In 1937, in all the USSR, there
were 610 kolkhozy with a money income of a million rubles or
over. These millionaire kolkhozy constituted only 0.3 per cent
of the total kolkhozy. The medium-sized kolkhozy, 75 per cent of
the total, had an average income of only 60,000 rubles a year. At
the bottom of the scale were the farms, comprising 6.7 per cent
of the total, with an annual income of only 1,000 to 5,000 rubles.39
In the absence of free movement from one farm to another, these
differences cannot operate as incentives. Significant as the varia-
tions in wealth are, it would be rash to predict that they will be
a source of social tension. The millionaire farms are in most
instances those that produce raw materials for industry, fruit,
tea, and medicinal plants. Most of them are in Central Asia; only
thirty of them are in the Ukraine. Therefore, the type of sharp
contrast that might give rise to envy is probably infrequent.

Divisive tendencies and evaluation

Within the present institutional framework of the collective
farms, certain divisive tendencies which the government has been
forced to combat may be observed. The series of decrees from
1932 onward that endeavor to protect collective cultivation
against encroachments from various sources, and particularly
against the expansion of the privately owned plots, contradicts the
official claim that through the collective farms the USSR has
succeeded in harmonizing the interests of the individual farmer
with those of the state.

Transformation of Peasantry 343

While the decree of August 7, 1932, merely spoke in general
terms about the need for "strengthening socialist property/'40
that of May 27, 1939, concerned primarily the tendency of the
kolkhozniks private plot to expand at the expense of the col-
lectivized sector.41 A survey of the private plots which was carried
out at that time revealed that the total land under such allotment
amounted to 2,500,000 hectares in excess of the regulations.42
Since the sown area in private plots amounted to only 5,300,000
hectares the year before,48 it is safe to conclude that nearly half
the existing allotments prior to the war were illegal. Over Stalin's
signature the Party complained in the 1939 decree that the home-
stead plot had frequently become the private property of the
kolkhoznik, who either kept it for his own use or rented it out,
even when he did no work for the kolkhoz. The homestead plot,
the complaint continued, had lost its character as a subsidiary
undertaking and had become a basic source of income for the
collective farmer, who gave a major part of his time to it. Gener-
ally similar decrees attempting to put an end to this expansion
were issued again after the war on September 19, 1946, and Feb-
ruary 27, 1947.44

The basic factor in the expansion of the private plots at the
expense of the collectivized sector is, according to one thorough
student, that the collective farms do not produce enough food-
stuffs for the city population. They produce the grain, cotton,
sugar, flax, and other raw materials, but fail to yield a sufficient
amount of other foodstuffs to supply the cities through official
channels. This function is largely taken over by the private plots,
from which come the meat, dairy products, eggs, poultry, vegeta-
bles, and other important consumption items.45 In 1932 the gov-
ernment permitted the organization of open markets in which the
collective farmers and individual peasants might sell the produce
of their farms direct to the consumer at whatever prices were
formed by the interplay of supply and demand.46 While not all of
the produce sold on the open market in this fashion comes from
the private plots, it is very likely that a high proportion comes
from this source.

Another reason for the expansion of the private sector at the
mnansa of the collective sector mav be the kolkhoznik' s need and

344 Today's Dilemma

opportunity to supplement the income received in payment for
labor days. According to the estimate of an English economist, the
collective fanner's income from labor days in 1937 accounted for
only a small proportion of his money income, while a larger share
came from the sale of surplus dividends in kind and surplus prod-
uce from the private allotments.47 Since, as we have seen, only
a limited proportion of the kolkhoz produce is available for
distribution in the form of dividends, the significance of the
private plot, whose produce is directly dependent on the indi-
vidual's own efforts, is considerable.

It is perhaps on this account that the Party has found it
necessary to put continued pressure on the farmers to work a
minimum number of days on the collective farm. In 1932 and
1933 over 50 per cent of the members did less than 30 days of
kolkhoz work a year. A study made in 1937 showed that, on the
average, members worked for the kolkhoz only 46.6 per cent of
the time. While the decree of May 27, 1939, asserted that the
majority of collective farmers earned from 200 to 600 labor days
a year, it pointed to the existence of evaders who worked no more
than 20 or 30 days, and raised the required minimum number to
60, 80, and 100 days, depending on the local conditions. Under
war conditions, on April 13, 1942, these figures were again raised
to 100, 120, and 150 days, respectively,48 After the war Party
authorities still pointed out that a considerable portion of the
collective farmers did not work the required minimum number
of labor days. In several areas the number of such individuals
reached 20 to 25 per cent of the able-bodied members of the
kolkhoz*

War conditions aggravated the divisive tendencies within the
collective farms, although such tendencies were kept firmly in
check by the authorities. The large-scale emission of funds to pay
for war production had the effect, as the Soviets themselves con-
cede, of increasing the prices of food products available on the
kolkhoz market. In 1943 these prices were between twelve and
thirteen times as high as in the prewar year 1940, although by
1945 they had dropped to a little less than half the 1943 peak.60
This inflation provided a tremendous incentive to the peasants

Transformation of Peasantry 345

to devote their energies to their private plots, whose produce they
could sell at uncontrolled prices, There are indications that many
profited thereby. Before the war the income tax on peasants was
progressive on incomes up to 4,000 rubles a year, after which the
rates remained constant. During the war the tax was made pro-
gressive on incomes up to 10,000 rubles a year, for the specific
purpose, said the Soviets, of taxing those kolkhozniki and indi-
vidual peasants who derived high incomes from their subsidiary
activities.51 Thus the postwar decrees directed toward the curbing
of the private plots (September 19, 1946), the absorption of
surplus agricultural products and their transfer to the market
through the cooperatives (November 9, 1946), the devaluation
of the ruble and the abolition of bread rationing (December 14,
1947) represent a concerted attack on a single basic prob-
lem.62

Encroachments on the collective lands of the kolkhoz also
derive from sources other than the expansion of the private plots.
There are some indications that they may be more important
sources of weakness in the kolkhoz system than those just dis-
cussed. A general explanation may be found in two related
factors, which can be presented only as hypotheses because of the
limited nature of the supporting data.

One hypothesis is that the prohibition on the sale of land by
the collective farm has acted as an economic strait jacket, which
the farm administration has sought to escape by legal and quasi-
legal devices. One such device was for the kolkhoz to arrange
with an industrial establishment for the latter to plant and make
use of land unused by the kolkhoz itself. In part, these arrange-
ments may have been made to supply agricultural products used
in industry, and in part as a way of obtaining food for the factory
canteens, which played an important role during the war.5S On
April 7, 1942, the government granted permission to the kolkhozy
to conclude agreements with industrial establishments for the
utilization of unused kolkhoz land. This permission was rescinded
by the decree of September 19, 1946.54 Further indications that
the prohibition on the sale of land is a source of difficulty comes
from scattered complaints in the Soviet press that the kolkhoz

346 Todays Dilemma

chairmen treat the farm as their own property, carrying on a
lively trade in land as well as in its produce,55

The second hypothesis, which helps to explain the absorption
of collective-farm lands by industrial units, as well as the growth
of informal clique relationships among the heads of collective
farms, factory directors, and local administrative officials, may be
expressed in the following terms.56 In the USSR the centralized
machinery of production and distribution in both industry and
agriculture works by fits and starts and with numerous local
shortages. Therefore, there is a widespread tendency for farming
and manufacturing organizations in the same locality to make
individual trade arrangements with one another that at times
conflict sharply with the patterns of distribution and production
that the central authorities attempt to impose. The more grain
and manufactured goods that are diverted into these local chan-
nels, the smaller are the quantities available for general distribu-
tion. In this manner, extreme centralization of the economy tends
to generate its own antithesis.

Figures have been published which indicate clearly the extent
of the various divisive tendencies in the collective farms and
permit a rough estimate of the importance of each. During the
war period the amount of land lost to collective farming was
more than double that which had been lost by 1939. Pravda for
September 19, 1947, reveals that by this date 5,780,000 hectares
of collectivized land had been returned to the collective farms,
all of which had been illegally taken out of collective cultivation.
Andreev, the Politburo member selected as chief trouble shooter
in collective-farm matters, issued in March 1947 a preliminary
breakdown of these figures from a report made earlier to the
Party Central Committee.57 Inspections, carried out on 90 per
cent of the farms, uncovered 2,225 cases of encroachment on
collective property; in other words, on 1 per cent of the farms
examined. In itself this figure is strong testimony to the regime's
ability to keep the divisive tendencies under control.

At the time of the survey, 4,700,000 hectares of land had been
returned to the kolkhozy. This figure represents about 4 per cent
of the total area (117,200,000 hectares) under cultivation in 1938.

Transformation of Peasantry 347

4,000,000 were returned by "various organizations and establish-
ments." Most of the land was probably returned by the various
industrial establishments whose activities have just been de-
scribed. The kolkhozniki themselves returned 521,000 hectares,
presumably from overexpanded private plots. "Other persons,"
who received no further identification in Andreev's report, turned
back 177,000 hectares.58 These figures are sufficient to contradict
any allegations that the system of collective farming underwent
a widespread collapse in the Soviet Union under the stress of
the war.59 They also prevent hasty conclusions that the system
of collective fanning suffers from internal strains that will even-
tually bring about its collapse. At the same time, these strains are
inherent in the Soviet collectivistic system and are likely to pro-
duce difficulties with which the Party will have to cope in times
to come.

In evaluating Soviet experience with the kolkhoz as a test of
the proposition that legislation cannot change the mores, one is
compelled to conclude that the Soviet regime has unquestionably
succeeded in imposing a new form of social organization upon
practically the entire mass of the Russian peasantry. A new insti-
tutional pattern, resembling the socialist latifundia suggested by
Kautsky and taken up by Lenin,60 has definitely come into being.
On this basis it seems necessary to abandon the proposition, at
least in this crude and absolute form.

The evidence will not warrant, however, the opposite conclu-
sion: that legislation may alter customary patterns in any way
desired by the legislator. The kolkhoz does not possess on any
significant scale the characteristics of autonomy or internal de-
mocracy, defined in the Soviets' own terms, that were and remain
part of the officially expressed Soviet ideal. This aspect of their
goal has not been achieved, largely because it conflicts with other
goals more important to the Communists. These may be stated
as the retention of power by the Communist elite and the success-
ful operation of a planned economy.

The data indicate that there is an important residue of truth
in the laissez-faire doctrine. It may be expressed in the general-
ization that it is impossible to achieve mutually incompatible

348 Today's Dilemma

goals. The history of the Bolshevik regime can be written around
this theme and the sacrifices of one set of objectives in order to
attain or come closer to attaining another set. It is well to point
out again in this connection that the sacrifices are sometimes tem-
porary ones, and that the subordinated goals may remain latent,
to emerge and influence policy under more favorable circum-
stances. The adoption and later abandonment of the NEP illus-
trate this process. It does not seem likely that a general list of
mutually incompatible goals, applicable for all groups and all
times and places, can be drawn up. To determine whether or not
two or more goals are incompatible is an empirical problem that
can be solved only with a knowledge of the relevant circum-
stances.

In the conflict of goals associated with the kolkhozy, the offi-
cial ideology plays a dual role. In the first place, it conceals the
existence of this conflict. In the literature known to me there is
no evidence of any overt awareness among the Communists that
there is a conflict of aims in their policies related to collective
farming. A convinced Communist would certainly deny the ex-
istence of any such conflict to an outsider, though he might con-
ceivably admit it in confidence to another Party member. A sec-
ond role played by the official doctrine is to smooth over the con-
tradictions between the major goal of retention of power by the
Communist elite and the minor one of Soviet democracy on the
collective farms. The way in which this takes place is character-
istic of the relationship between ideology and behavior in other
parts of the Soviet system. The device, probably used uncon-
sciously for the most part, is to assert that the realization of the
subordinate goal, kolkhoz democracy, will take place in the very
near future. In numerous discussions in the Party press the re-
current theme is: "One more campaign— one more effort— and the
objective will be won/' Reform groups often display a similar
pattern of thinking in the United States, saying in effect, "Throw
the rascals out, and our troubles will be over." In both America
and Russia the sources of difficulty are located in the errors made
by individuals, even though the Communists may color this with
vague references to the "relationship of class forces." By declar-

Transformation of Peasantry 349

ing that the realization of the goal lies in the immediate future,
present difficulties are smoothed over and made to appear tran-
sient phenomena, which makes allegiance to the goal easier to
maintain. It would be rash to assert that this device cannot be
used over considerable periods of time. Quite possibly it can be
used indefinitely.

16

The Pattern of Soviet
Foreign Policy

General considerations

In Robert E. Sherwooffs account of Molotovs visit to President
Roosevelt, there is reproduced a snatch of conversation that
serves as a vivid reminder of one prominent feature of Soviet
foreign policy: its ability to reach agreements with anyone, if
the agreement promises advantages. Roosevelt asked Molotov
for his personal impressions of Hitler. Motolov replied that, after
all, it was possible to arrive at a common understanding with
almost anyone. But he had never met two. more disagreeable
people to deal with than Hitler and Ribbentrop.1

Soviet Russia's participation in the pact with the Nazis, as
well as its alternating periods of friendship and hostility toward
the Western democracies, are sometimes considered enigmatic
and mysterious. However, sudden changes from friendship to
hostility are familiar features of international relationships and
are by no means confined to the diplomatic history of the Soviet
Union. This chapter will endeavor to show that the main out-
lines of Soviet foreign policy, with its shifts from one camp to
another, are typical reactions to alterations in the distribution of
political power in the world at large. To the extent that such is
the case, there is no difference between Soviet foreign policy
and that of any other state. However, there is more to the story
than this.

In the same general fashion that democratic ideology influ-
ences American reactions to world situations, the Russian Marx-

Pattern of Foreign Policy 351

1st intellectual tradition plays an important part in Soviet adapta-
tion to the changing balance of power. The Marxist tradition con-
sists of a specifically defined goal, the proletarian revolution, and
a way of looking at political events which emphasizes the clash
of economic interest groups. Both of these aspects play a definite
role in Soviet responses to changes in the international balance
of power.

The revolutionary goal can be reconciled with the promotion
of Russian national interests through the familiar argument that
any act which strengthens the proletarian fatherland automatically
contributes to eventual proletarian victory throughout the world.
What non-Communists or ex-Communists may regard as the sac-
''jifice of Communist Parties outside the USSR to Russian na-
tional interests can be explained by the Soviets as a necessary
peripheral sacrifice to strengthen the fortress of revolution. The
Marxist analysis of political events abroad stresses some facts,
while it ignores or plays down others.2 Thus the Marxist interpre-
tation of events affects the Soviet reaction to the events.

Although Soviet foreign policy is distinguished from that of
other states by the presence of this Marxist ingredient, it is not
necessarily true that the Marxist component is the most impor-
tant one. The structure of international relationships itself im-
poses certain forms of behavior upon the participants. The pen-
alty for failure to conform, for unwillingness to engage in balance-
of-power politics, is national disaster. Such factors appear to have
been the significant determinants of Soviet foreign policy, as
well as that of other modern states. At the same time, the way in
which each individual state may react to an international situa-
tion will differ considerably according to its specific historical
background, cultural tradition, and prevailing ideology or series
of ideologies.

Quite justifiably, international relations has been compared to
a quadrille, in which the dancers change their partners at a defi-
nite signal. But no two dancers execute the steps in precisely
the same fashion. Some, who are new to the steps, may try to stop
the dance altogether, or call for a new tune. For this they may be
sent to the corner (behind a cordon sanitaire), to emerge later as

352 Today's Dilemma

seeking and sought-after partners. Or, conceivably at least, they
might bring the dance to a halt. There is more than illustrative
metaphor behind this comparison. International relationships,
like the dance or any other pattern of organized human relation-
ships, are composed of a series of formally patterned require-
ments for the participants. Those who participate will do so in an
individual fashion, and may on occasion seek to alter the general
pattern.

Power politics calls the tune

The major developments in the international field that faced
the Soviet Union after the establishment of Stalin's internal
leadership were the rise of Germany and Japan as expansionist
states. The relations of these powers to each other, to the USSR,
and to the other major powers, England, France, and the United
States, constituted the focal problems of Soviet foreign policy
from the 1930's until the defeat of the Axis in 1945.

At first the Soviet leaders, like those in other countries, were
slow in recognizing the danger to their country implicit in Ger-
man National Socialism. This lag may be related to factional
struggles within the Russian Communist Party, centering around
differing evaluations of the political situation abroad as well as
more personal rivalries, and hence indirectly to the influence of
Marxist ideological factors.

There are strong indications that within the Russian Commu-
nist Party and the Communist International as well there was a
group, probably led by Bukharin, that wished to reach some
kind of working agreement with the German Social Democrats
and representatives of gradualist socialism in other countries in
order to combat the rising danger of fascism.3 This group was
not successful in imposing its point of view. Instead, Stalin turned
on Bukharin and his followers, accusing them in a vitriolic speech
of failing to see the necessity for purging the Communist Par-
ties of conciliationist tendencies.*

Stalin's explanation of the current political situation claimed
that both the Nazis and the Social Democrats served the reaction-
ary purposes of the bourgeoisie. The official interpretation of the

Pattern of Foreign Policy 353

world depression, which had become acute at that time, and its
political consequences was that the bourgeoisie would seek the
solution of its difficulties by way of fascism, an argument that in
itself has considerable plausibility in the light of subsequent
events. In resorting to fascism, said Stalin, the bourgeoisie would
make use of "all reactionary forces, including social democracy." 5
Another reason for Communist hostility to the Social Democrats
was derived from Lenin's fundamental point that the "demo-
cratic illusions," propagated among the working class by the
Social Democrats, prevented an influential stratum of the prole-
tariat from realizing that its "true" interests could be served
only by the destruction of capitalism. For this reason it was
possible for the German Communists to declare, "A Social Dem-
ocratic coalition government, standing over a disabled, split, and
bewildered proletariat, would be a thousand times worse evil
than an open fascist dictatorship that stood over a class-conscious
proletariat, unified and decided upon battle."6 The working
policies employed by the Communist Party in Germany, under
pressure from the Soviet leaders, followed fairly closely the lines
set forth in the official doctrine. The Communists opposed the
Nazis, but devoted a large part of their energies to attacks upon
the Social Democrats.7

In addition to the preceding considerations, derived from
Marxist ideology, there were others, based less upon Marxist
doctrine than upon an evaluation of Russian national interests,
that prevented the USSR from aligning itself against Germany
even after the Nazi coup. Germany was a useful counterweight
in the balance of power against England and France, and the
Soviets did not manifest any haste in abandoning the policy
they had followed almost without exception from Rapallo on-
ward. They seem to have hoped that the Nazis would limit their
anti-Communist policies to domestic matters, while remaining on
good terms with the Soviet Union in foreign affairs. Goering
gave some grounds for such hopes in his statement to the Dutch
press that the extirpation of Communism in Germany had noth-
ing to do with friendly German-Russian relations.8 The Soviets'
long record of hostility to the Versailles Treaty and to the League

354 Today's Dilemma

of Nations was indeed objectively in alignment with certain
features of proclaimed Nazi foreign policy.

Thus Litvinov, although he was one of the first Soviet states-
men to point out publicly the potential danger of Nazism to the
USSR,9 adopted a conciliatory tone toward the Nazis. His first
major speech on this question following the Nazi victory said
in effect that the Soviets were" perfectly willing to sacrifice the
German Communist Party, provided the Germans maintained
friendly relations with the Soviet Union. "We certainly have our
own opinion about the German regime/' he said. "We certainly
are sympathetic towards the suffering of our German comrades;
but it is possible to reproach us Marxists least of all with per-
mitting our sympathies to rule our policy. All the world knows
that we can and do maintain good relations with capitalist gov-
ernments of any regime including fascist. That is not what mat-
ters. We do not interfere in the internal affairs of Germany or of
other countries, and our relations with her are determined not by
her domestic but by her foreign policy." 10 A few weeks later, at
the Seventeenth Party Congress, Stalin voiced the same theme.
Denying the German allegation that the Soviet Union had be-
come a supporter of the Versailles Treaty because of the Nazi
victory, he went on to say, "Of course we are far from being
enthusiastic about the fascist regime in Germany. But fascism
is not the issue here, if only for the reason that fascism in Italy,
for example, has not prevented the USSR from establishing the
best relations with that country." n

The Soviet reaction to Japanese expansionism in its beginning
stages followed a similar pattern. In 1925 Soviet-Japanese rela-
tions reached the friendliest point of many years, owing in part
to parallel interests in internal Chinese affairs. Afterward the
friendship declined, The outbreak of hostilities in Manchuria on
September 19, 1931, was interpreted in the Soviet press as the
preliminary for an attack on the Soviet Union. However, Soviet
suspicions of the Western capitalist states, strongly expressed by
Stalin the year before at the Sixteenth Party Congress, for a time
helped to prevent the Russians from aligning themselves with
Japan's opponents. The Russian leaders remained skeptical and

Pattern of Foreign Policy 355

mtagonistic toward the League of Nations and the efforts of the
Lytton Commission to settle the conflict, accusing the Japanese
)f trying to promote a "Red scare" to cover Japanese antagonism
:oward the Commission. A further reason, according to later state-
ments by Maxim Litvinov, was that the Russians did not want
iie League to embroil the USSR in a war with Japan. On De-
cember 31, 1931, Litvinov broached the subject of a nonaggres-
jion pact to the Japanese without success.

Not until the spring of 1932 were the first steps taken toward
lie improvement of relations between the Soviet government
md Chiang Kai-shek, and in this case the initiative came pri-
marily from the Chinese side. On December 12, 1932, diplo-
matic relations with China were reestablished, although they
.vere somewhat strained by the Soviet proposal of May 12, 1933,
:o sell the Chinese Eastern Railway to Japan, a move dictated by
:he desire to avoid further involvement with Japan in Manchuria.
Thus, as in the German case, the Russians attempted to ward
}ff a threatened attack through the offer to continue friendly
Delations with their main antagonist. Since this did not appear
:o be overly successful, the Russians soon found themselves
seeking allies or being sought as an ally. The balance-of-power
mechanism had begun to operate once more according to its
Familiar pattern. To this the Soviets adapted themselves, if
jlowly and reluctantly.12

The search for allies

The first step toward meeting the danger of German and
Japanese expansion were taken through the instrument of the
Communist International, instead of through regular diplomatic
channels. There are several indications that the impetus behind
the change came not so much from Moscow as from within the
ranks of the European Marxist parties, and that it was transmit-
ted to Moscow by Western Communists in touch with rank-and-
file sentiment. Hitler's crushing defeat of the left made many
Df the rank and file in both the Communist International and
gradualist Marxist parties impatient with what seemed to them
Snespun wrangling over how the world should end, when it was

356 Today's Dilemma

ending before their eyes in terror and concentration camps. To
many the lesson of the Nazi victory seemed obvious: the split
in the working class had enabled fascism to triumph in Germany
and would enable it to triumph elsewhere, if the split were not
healed. Socialist and Communist leaders, however, remained
skeptical of each other's intentions.

Some of the pressures to abandon the fratricidal conflict ap-
peared when a German Social Democratic publication broached
the possibility of reaching an agreement just before Hitler sup-
pressed the Party.13 It was in France, however, where fears of a
possible fascist coup played an important part in producing co-
operation among the lower echelons of the Communist and Social-
ist Parties, that a formal agreement was first reached. This took
place on July 27, 1934, a year and a half after the Nazi victory
in Germany.1* The new policy was endorsed by the presidium
of the Communist International during the same month. In the
spring of the previous year the French leader, Maurice Thorez,
had been called to Moscow, Probably the situation was dis-
cussed with the Russian leaders at that time.16

Despite the 1934 agreement between the French Socialists
and Communists, it is clear that the Russians had not yet given
up the hope of coming to an agreement with Nazi Germany. As
on other occasions, the Soviets gave evidence of trying to keep
two strings for their bow. In his report to the Seventh Congress
of Soviets on January 28, 1935, Molotov gave a broad hint that
the USSR was still willing to reach some kind of agreement
with Germany. On this occasion he repeated Stalin's theme that
the Soviet Union sought for the development of good relations
with all countries, "not excluding countries with a fascist regime/*
citing once more Italo-Soviet relations as proof of the possibility
of cooperation between countries with completely contrary so-
cial systems.18

The change in Communist tactics involved in the search for
allies among the working class did not become fully apparent
until the highly publicized Seventh and last World Congress of the
Communist International, held in Moscow during the summer of

Pattern of Foreign Policy 357

1935. This body declared: "In the face of the towering menace
of fascism ... it is imperative that unity of action be established
between all sections of the working class, irrespective of what
organisation they belong to, even before the majority of the
working class unites on a common fighting platform for the
overthrow of capitalism and the victory of the proletarian rev-
olution." 17

From this point until the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact
of August 23, 1939, anti-fascism became a dominant note in both
Soviet and Comintern propaganda. In addition, the Communists
in each country attempted to pose as the true defenders of na-
tional interests against the onslaught of fascism. In the new anti-
fascist bloc, as conceived by the Soviets, former enemies on the
left, and even middle-class groups with anti-fascist sentiments,
were welcomed as allies. In France, in the summer of 1935, the
united front was extended to become the popular front by the
inclusion of the Radical Party (despite its name a middle-of-
the-road group that provided many of the leaders of the Third Re-
public) under Daladier, whose last ministry the Communists had
helped to overturn in February 1934.18

Similar events took place at a later date in the Far East. In
August 1936 the Chinese Communists abandoned, under the
pressure of the Japanese advance, their hostility to Chiang Kai-
shek. In December of the same year, following the famous Sian
incident in which Chiang was kidnapped and released by a
Kuomintang leader anxious for a more vigorous policy against
Japan, relations between the two groups improved, though a for-
mal agreement was not reached until after the Japanese attack
on the Marco Polo Bridge in 1937. By this time the united front
was extended to the Far East.19

Throughout this search for allies the Soviets were faced with
a problem that recurs continually in the history of the Communist
movement. To gain assistance against one enemy it was necessary
to make programmatic concessions to another enemy, to soften or
disguise ultimate objectives, Failure to make such concessions
might obviously result in sectarian impotence, or even destruc-

358 Todays Dilemma

tion. At the same time, sentiment was strong against any apparent
betrayal of ideals. Communist ethics permit and even encourage
one to admit the existence of compromises over methods and
means. But to admit openly a compromise over ends is extremely
difficult, indeed nearly impossible, before an outsider.

In fashioning the popular front of the middle thirties, Russian
and foreign Communists tried to resolve the conflicting pressures
for expediency and doctrinal consistency by conceding once more
the postponement of the proletarian revolution, while reaffirm-
ing it as their ultimate objective. The Seventh World Congress
of the Communist International still spoke about the "transfor-
mation of the maturing political crisis into a victorious prole-
tarian revolution," 20 a phrase that was hardly likely to reassure
non-Marxist allies. Dimitrov, the new general secretary of the
Comintern, told the same gathering: "Comrades! We have pur-
posely thrown out of the speeches and Congress resolutions high-
sounding phrases about revolutionary perspectives." Then, as if
failing to heed his own words, he went on to proclaim that the
present rulers of the capitalist world were but temporary figures,
and that the proletariat was the true ruler who would soon "take
up the reins of government in every country, the entire world." 2i
Communist adherence to revolutionary symbolism did not help
to reduce the suspicions that continually endangered the united
front. Such statements as Andre Marty's, that the interests of
French imperialism and the Soviet Union in the maintenance of
peace covered entirely different ultimate objectives, were hardly
reassuring to potential non-Communist followers.22

Even without such statements, it was frequently clear that the
Communists owed their general allegiance to the Soviet Union,
and that they supported a particular cause at a particular moment
merely because the two interests happened to coincide* At every
point and by a wide variety of techniques they tried to capture
the leadership of trade unions, political pressure groups, intellec-
tuals' gatherings, and the like in order to bend them to Soviet pur-
poses. They demanded cooperation, but insisted on maintaining
their own organization intact, continuing to criticize in vitriolic

Pattern of Foreign Policy 359

terms those who questioned their policy. For all these reasons,
united front and popular front agreements were highly unstable
and in continuous danger of disintegration.

In their search for protection against Germany and Japan, the
Soviets did not confine themselves to the instrument of the Com-
munist International. On September 18, 1934, the Soviet Union
became a member of the League of Nations.23 Having castigated
this organization for some years as a pious front for the Anglo-
American imperialists, the Soviet leaders evidently now consid-
ered that it might serve Soviet purposes. Between 1934 and 1938
the Soviets were among the strongest supporters of the League,
though they were often critical of its unsuccessful attempts to
check Axis expansion.24 On May 2, 1935, the Franco-Soviet Treaty
of Mutual Assistance was signed by Laval and the Soviet repre-
sentative. The terms of the pact obligated the two governments
to assist one another in case either of them were subject to an un-
provoked attack.25 One consequence of the new Franco-Soviet
rapprochement was that the French Communists, after a public
statement by Stalin approving French rearmament, immediately
dropped their campaign against the lengthening of the period of
military service.26 On May 16, 1935, a mutual assistance pact
between the Soviets and Czechoslovakia was signed in Prague.
Though its provisions were identical with those of the Franco-
Soviet pact, its protocol of signature provided that the provi-
sions for mutual assistance should come into force only if France
came to the assistance of the country attacked.27 This provision
was probably a reflection of the Soviet suspicion, frequently
voiced later, that the ties with the West might simply be utilized
to drag Russia into the war to serve Western purposes. A treaty
of nonaggression with Italy, signed on September 2, 1933; rec-
ognition by the United States, achieved on November 16, 1933;
the reduction of tension with England over the question of the
Dardanelles through the Montreux Convention of July 20, 1936;
and the conclusion of a nonaggression pact with China on Au-
gust 28, 1937, constituted the remaining diplomatic ramparts
erected by the Soviet Union against potential dangers.

360 Todays Dilemma

Suspicions among allies

By 1939 this system of paper ramparts lay in ruins, and the
Russians found it expedient to ally themselves, at least tempo-
rarily, with Nazi Germany, their major diplomatic antagonist.
To consider all of the reasons for the collapse of these defenses
is a task that would take us far afield. But a few may be men-
tioned for the light they throw on the general problems of Soviet
foreign policy.

In the first place, many influential groups in the powers con-
nected with the USSR by its system of alliances were suspicious
of Soviet aims and intentions. They argued that the Communist
assumption of the democratic mantle and the Soviet alignment
with the Western democracies were tactical maneuvers designed
to further Soviet ends. In several chancelleries the ends were as-
sumed to be the original ones of world revolution and the estab-
lishment of the Soviet system in the major power centers of the
world. Those less fearful of a world-wide upheaval still feared
that the Soviet Union, since it lacked a common frontier with
Germany, might take control of Eastern Europe and thereby
undermine the status quo. Still others suspected that the Soviets
might embroil them in a war with Germany, thereby avoiding
the main burden of fighting to gather the fruits of social upheaval.
A number of influential persons argued that the trials and purges
had so weakened the USSR that its military contribution would
be insignificant. Thus, many European leaders were torn between
their fears of the Axis and their fears of the Soviet Union. The
Spanish Civil War, in which it seemed for a time that the Com-
munists might gain a dominant position in a corner of Western
Europe, increased the dilemma of those who wished neither for
an extension of Soviet influence nor for continued fascist expan-
sion.

On the Soviet side there were frequent expressions of the
suspicion that the Western powers were not really interested in
peace and security, but were merely anxious to divert Germany
and Japan against the USSR. Stalin, as we have seen, expressed
these ideas in his report to the Party Congress of 1934, at which

Pattern of Foreign Policy 361

he held out the possibility of a rapprochement with Nazi Ger-
many. In his speeches before the League of Nations, Litvinov
continually reproached France and England with failure to take
active steps to halt aggression.

There are also strong indications that the distrust of all capi-
talist powers remained an influential factor in Soviet policy. In
a report to a plenary session of the Central Committee in 1937,
Stalin drove home the theme of a united capitalist world, wait-
ing hungrily to attack the USSR. "Capitalist encirclement— that's
no empty phrase, that's something real and unpleasant. Capitalist
encirclement— that means that there is one country, the Soviet
Union, that has established for itself a socialist system; and there
are, besides that, many countries, bourgeois countries, which
continue to carry on a capitalist way of life and which surround
the Soviet Union, waiting for the opportunity to attack it and
plunder it, or in any case— to undermine its power and weaken
it."28

To some extent Stalin's speech, and others of the same tenor,
must be discounted as part of a deliberate attempt to create an
atmosphere of spy hysteria for the purpose of destroying the
remnants of domestic enemies, since the speechmaking took place
during the 1936-1938 purges. Yet it is hardly likely that Stalin
would have used these symbols if he did not believe they would
strike a responsive chord among his listeners in the Party Central
Committee.

Thus, strong mutual suspicions, at least partly justified on
both sides, contributed to the collapse of efforts to create an
effective bloc of powers against Axis expansion. It might be
argued that these suspicions could have arisen independently
of the Marxist-Leninist tradition in Russia, and that they could
have been based on mutual suspicions concerning the territo-
rial and political aims of both the Russian and the Western states.
But in this particular case, it is at least reasonably clear that
Western suspicions of the specifically revolutionary intentions of
the USSR contributed to the collapse. It is likewise equally clear
that Soviet suspicions of the West were increased by viewing the

362 Today's Dilemma

If any single incident can be selected as the key point in the
collapse of the anti-Axis coalition, that incident is the Munich
Conference of September 29, 1938.29 At this conference, to which
the Soviets were not invited, the French and British leaders at-
tempted to "appease" Hitler and to avoid war by granting his
demands in regard to the Sudeten areas of Czechoslovakia.

New partners

The results of the Munich Conference evidently raised once
again serious questions in the Kremlin concerning the desir-
ability of continuing its opposition to Germany. At the Eight-
eenth Party Congress in March 1939, Stalin referred caustically
to the Anglo-French retreat before the military bloc of Italy,
Germany, and Japan. In his explanation of the retreat, he laid
less emphasis on the fear of revolution as a motivating factor
in Anglo-French policy, and more upon their alleged policy of
encouraging German and Japanese aggression against the USSR.80
Dimitry Manuilsky, speaking as the Party's representative in the
Comintern, put the matter in somewhat more Marxist terms. The
plan of the English reactionary bourgeoisie, he claimed, was to
sacrifice the little countries of Europe to fascism and turn Ger-
many against the USSR. By such a counterrevolutionary war
they hoped to prevent the further success of socialism and the
victory of communism in the Soviet Union, at the same time that
they used the "arms of the USSR to pull the teeth of German
imperialism" and maintain for themselves the ruling position
in Europe,31

Shortly after the 1939 Party Congress, the Kremlin leaders
initiated a policy of playing the Anglo-French combination off
against the Germans in an effort to force both groups to make
the highest possible bid for a minimum of Soviet support. That
this was a deliberate and consciously employed technique is
indicated by the fact that on the same day that the Russians pro-
posed a Franco-British-Soviet defense pact against fascist aggres-
sion (April 17, 1939), the Soviet ambassador in Berlin gave a
broad hint to the German foreign office that the USSR wished
to reach an agreement with Germany.82

Pattern of Foreign Policy 363

It is worth noting that in the course of their negotiations with
the Germans the Soviets repeatedly made the point, emphasized
in public speeches by Stalin some years before, that the inter-
nal nature of the Nazi regime and its anti-Communist policies
should not prevent friendly relations between the German and
Soviet states. On one occasion during the negotiations, the Soviet
charge in Berlin remarked to a German official that in Moscow
the authorities had never been able to understand why the Nazis
sought the enmity of the Soviet Union, although "they always had
full understanding for the domestic opposition to Communism." ss
In addition to the revealing sidelight these remarks throw upon
the attitude of the Russian policy-makers toward the Commu-
nist Parties abroad, they indicate that at all times during the
thirties there was a group among these policy-makers who be-
lieved in the possibility of good relations with the Nazi regime.

Nevertheless, this group was by no means dominant, and
it would be rash to conclude that the Russians had no intention
at any time of coming to an agreement with the Anglo-French
representatives. As late as August 4, 1939, less than three weeks
before the conclusion of the Nazi-Soviet Pact, the German am-
bassador in Moscow reported to his government, after a conver-
sation with Molotov, "My over-all impression is that the Soviet
Government is at present determined to sign with England and
France if they fulfill all Soviet wishes." 34

To the astonishment of many, agreement was reached be-
tween the Germans and the Russians, formalized in the famous
Non-Aggression Pact of August 23, 1939. Whether or not the
Russian action was a blunder in terms of balance-of-power poli-
tics is an arguable question. It is clear from the record of the
conversations preceding the pact that Stalin and Molotov knew
that this act would be the prelude to war. That the war might
lead to a rapid expansion of German influence is a factor Stalin
and Molotov must have considered. It is doubtful, however, that
they foresaw, or could have foreseen, the rapidity of the German
conquest. Stalin told Ribbentrop that "England, despite its weak-
ness, would wage war craftily and stubbornly/' and that France
had an army "worthy of consideration/' 85 Furthermore, the Rus-

364 Todays Dilemma

sians could believe that in signing the pact they had achieved
four major objectives, which figured prominently in the nego-
tiations leading up to the pact and in the public speeches of So-
viet leaders. The treaty, so it seemed, secured Russia from a
German attack and at the same time prevented the Soviet Union
from being drawn into a general European war to serve Anglo-
French interests. Likewise, the Russians obtained a diminution
of Japanese pressure on their Eastern flank, while they gained
simultaneously an opportunity for territorial adjustments in the
West.36 In the light of the information available at this time,
it does appear, therefore, that the Soviet adherence to the pact
was a rational action in terms of contemporary power politics.

Soviet behavior, following its adherence to the pact, also
followed the standard pattern of maintaining one's own strength
vis-a-vis an associate that might some day become an enemy.
Most of the important Russian actions during the brief period
of the pact may be accounted for by the hypothesis that the
Soviets were endeavoring to place themselves in as advanta-
geous a position as possible in relation to Germany, while at
the same time they tried to avoid any action that would pre-
cipitate an outright break. As matters turned out, these two pol-
icies were mutually incompatible, since Russian defensive meas-
ures sharpened German suspicions and eventually contributed
to the Nazi invasion. Although the two policies were incom-
patible, they are easy to understand, since the Soviets had good
reason to fear that the Germans might turn on them no matter
what happened.

At first the strains imposed on the Nazi-Soviet alignment by
Soviet actions were minor. Russian participation in the partition
of Poland, the Soviet military pacts with the Baltic States (Sep-
tember-October 1939), the Soviet war against Finland (Decem-
ber 1939-March 1940), and the virtual annexation of the Baltic
States at the height of German military successes against France
(June 1940) produced no more overt signs of strain than occa-
sional warnings by the German foreign office to its staff abroad,
cautioning them to avoid anti-Soviet statements in their con-
versations with foreigners.37 The first sign of coolness on the Rus-

Pattern of Foreign Policy 365

sian side appeared in connection with the Axis guarantee to
Rumania that her frontiers, following the Vienna award, would
be inviolate. On August 31, 1940, Molotov told the German
ambassador that this action was a violation of the Non-Aggres-
sion Pact.88

Acute difficulties arose in connection with Molotov's visit to
Berlin in November 1940. In the discussions that accompanied
and followed this visit, Molotov's demands revealed a series of
territorial aims, and a willingness to engage in classical Real-
politik, that is strongly reminiscent of Tsarist expansionist pol-
icy. While this was far from an altogether new element in
Soviet foreign policy, it appeared on this occasion in an espe-
cially clear form, unencumbered by Marxian messianic phrase-
ology.

Hitler offered Molotov the opportunity for the Soviet Union
to join the Axis and share in the new division of the world. Molo-
tov replied that Soviet participation in the Axis appeared to him
"entirely acceptable in principle," provided that the USSR "was
to cooperate as a partner and not be merely an object." 39 During
the course of several conversations with Hitler and Ribbentrop,
Molotov insisted on a precise recognition of Russian interests
in Finland, the Balkans, and Turkey as a prerequisite to Soviet
participation in the Tripartite Pact. On his return to Moscow he
informed the German ambassador that the Soviet government
would join the Axis under four conditions: (1) German troops
would have to be withdrawn from Finland; (2) Bulgaria would
have to conclude a mutual assistance pact with the USSR and
grant the USSR a base for land and naval forces within range
of the Bosporus and the Dardanelles; (3) the area south of
Batum and Baku in the general direction of the Persian Gulf
would have to be recognized as the "center of the aspirations
of the Soviet Union"; (4) Japan would have to renounce her
concession rights for coal and oil in northern Sakhalin.40 It is
hardly necessary to point out that these objectives, which rep-
resent a continuation of Tsarist aims, have formed highly sig-
nificant elements in Soviet foreign policy since this date. Hitler's
reaction to their exposition was to order his generals to prepare

366 Todays Dilemma

in utmost secrecy for a knockout blow against the Soviet Union.41
How much the Soviets learned about the German preparations
is far from clear, though the impending attack became common
diplomatic gossip in Moscow. The British ambassador even pre-
dicted correctly the date of the invasion.42 Stalin told Harry Hop-
kins in 1941 that he had believed Hitler would not strike, but
that he had taken all precautions possible to mobilize his army.43
Diplomatic precautions were taken as well, of which the most
important was the neutrality pact with Japan (April 23, 1941),
diminishing the probability of a two-front war for the Soviets.
As part of the price of agreement, the Japanese exacted from the
Russians the recognition of the territorial integrity of Man-
chukuo.44 For the Russians this symbolic recognition of the ex-
isting situation was a small price to pay for the advantages gained.
The Nazi-Soviet attempt at collaboration failed, not because
the Kremlin leaders had any objections "in principle" to coopera-
tion with the Axis, but because the Nazis felt they could not
permit the Russians the degree of security against their Nazi
partners that the Kremlin leaders demanded. Well-grounded mu-
tual suspicions brought about its collapse, just as similar suspi-
cions had contributed to the collapse of Soviet collaboration with
the Western democracies.

Old partners

The march of the Nazi legions, begun on June 22, 1941, auto-
matically made the Soviet Union the ally of the Western democ-
racies once more. In the light of the historical record, it is clear
that this alignment had little if anything to do with ideological
or "democratic" affinities.

In the new anti-Axis coalition, the Soviets pursued the same
basic policy of protecting themselves against allies, as well as
enemies, that they had followed in previous years and alliances.
Throughout the war Soviet policy was directed not only toward
a military victory, but also toward emerging from the conflict
in as strong a position as possible in relation to both allies and
current enemies.

Both the Soviets and their allies feared that their partners

Pattern of Foreign Policy 367

might conclude a separate peace with Germany. The Russians in
particular had grounds for fearing that the British and the Ameri-
cans might stand aside in the hope that Germany and the Soviet
Union would exhaust themselves in a mutual bloodletting. This
hope was openly expressed by a member of the British govern-
ment in the first days of the German attack, and even his prompt
dismissal could not have been altogether reassuring. Hence the
Soviets sought through official and unofficial channels to engage
the Anglo-American forces in the second front.45 Churchill, as
is widely known, opposed the second front and in its place pro-
posed a Balkan and Mediterranean campaign, probably with the
aim of checking Soviet postwar expansion into Eastern Europe.
At Teheran in 1943 Stalin resisted successfully all of Churchill's
oratorical arguments in favor of this plan.46

As early as September 1941 Stalin gave the Beaverbrook-
Harriman mission to Moscow a "rough time" by raising a num-
ber of political issues, and by showing only moderate mollifica-
tion when these two men promised abundant military supplies.
Even at this date it appears that Stalin was entertaining dreams
of empire. When the first Nazi attack had spent itself and the
Russians had recaptured Rostov, in the beginning of winter,
1941, Stalin insisted on continuing detailed political discussions,
whose range reflected the extent of Soviet interests. The discus-
sions concerned the borders between the Soviet Union and Fin-
land, Poland, and Rumania; the status of the Baltic States; and
more distant matters such as the future of the Rhineland, Bava-
ria, East Prussia, the restoration of the Sudeten area to Czecho-
slovakia, and territorial adjustments affecting Greece and Tur-
key. The situation became so tense that it was necessary to send
Anthony Eden to Moscow, where he arrived just before the Japa-
nese attack on Pearl Harbor.47

Difficulties arose over the future status of Poland almost at
once. On December 4, 1941, Stalin indicated to the leader of
the Polish government in exile, whose headquarters were in
London, that he wished certain changes in Poland's postwar
frontiers.48 Early in 1943 it became apparent that the Russians
had in mind the Curzon Line as the future boundary between

368 Todays Dilemma

the two countries, an idea which the London group refused to
accept.49 When, in April of the same year, it became clear that
the London group could not be prevailed upon to accept the
Soviet proposals, the Kremlin seized upon Polish accusations
that the Russians had murdered a number of Polish officers as
diplomatic justification for breaking off relations.50 Afterward the
Russians intensified their efforts to create around a Communist
nucleus a Polish group of their own, capable of taking power
and governing Poland in a manner amenable to Soviet interests.
Although the Soviets at various times before and after the es-
tablishment of this regime indicated a willingness to incorporate
into this group of Soviet-sponsored leaders certain individuals
from the London government in exile, their efforts to broaden
its base of popular support in this fashion did not succeed.

A similar pattern of events unfolded in Yugoslavia. The Sovi-
ets supported Tito, a Communist, in opposition to the Serbian
guerrilla leader Mihailovich, who in turn enjoyed for a time the
indirect support of London. In October 1944, on the occasion
of Churchill's visit to Moscow, the Soviets agreed to a merger
between Tito's forces and the Royal Yugoslav Government,
whose quarters were in the British capital. Subsequently, Tito
and his followers managed to eliminate opposition leaders and
establish a near monopoly of political power in their own hands.
Until Tito's defection from the ranks of Soviet supporters, it
seemed that Russian influence might extend to the shores of the
Adriatic.

In June 1944, apparently at the initiative of the British, the
attempt was begun to resolve existing conflicts through an old-
fashioned agreement on spheres of influence. At that time the
United States had not yet begun to display any great interest in
the postwar distribution of power, although it would be forced
at a later date to take over from Britain the role of chief diplo-
matic antagonist to the USSR. The British suggested that Ru-
mania and Bulgaria should be treated as part of the Soviet zone
of influence, and that Greece, vital to British Mediterranean
interests, should belong to the British zone. Stalin agreed, thereby
giving the British a free hand to deal with the Greek left as

Pattern of Foreign Policy 369

best they could, while the British gave Stalin a free hand to
eliminate in his own way the opponents of the Soviets in their
zone.51 The Russians are sometimes credited with keeping to their
part of the bargain, since the Soviet press failed to give any sup-
port to the Greek rebels in the first stages of the British attempt
to reestablish a parliamentary regime. However, one cannot be
certain that the prolonged rebel resistance was not to some extent
aided, directly or indirectly, by the Soviets.

Neither this attempt nor the more formal discussions at
Teheran, Yalta, and Potsdam succeeded in eliminating the sources
of present and future tension among the allies. Each of these con-
ferences ended in high hopes because the Anglo-Americans man-
aged to extract some promise from Stalin that the Russians would
alter their policy. Disenchantment set in afterward as the Soviets
continued their efforts to consolidate and extend their power po-
sition.

The foregoing does not imply that these conferences failed to
produce significant political decisions. At the Yalta Conference
the Soviets achieved important diplomatic gains, particularly in
the Far East. At the time, however, the agreement may well have
seemed, even to its signers, to be a diplomatic compromise with-
out serious gains or losses for either side. The Soviets promised
to enter the war against Japan and agreed to conclude a pact
of friendship with the Nationalist Government in China, which
implied repudiation of the Chinese Communists. In return, the
USSR received, among other things, promises that the southern
part of Sakhalin would revert to Russia, that the Kurile Islands
would be turned over to her, and that the Soviets might lease
Port Arthur as a naval base. In addition, the agreement, by rec-
ognizing the existing situation in Mongolia, legalized its detach-
ment from China and its dependence on the Soviet Union.52
These Soviet actions were probably directed toward neutraliz-
ing American power in the Far East, whether based upon the
occupation of Japan or exercised more indirectly through China.

During the war Soviet actions were by no means limited to
efforts at checkmating the Anglo-American powers in case of a
postwar struggle. There are clear indications that the Kremlin

370 Todays Dilemma

authorities also feared a revival of German and Japanese expan-
sionism at some future date. At Teheran in 1943, Stalin on more
than one occasion expressed the belief that Germany would be
able to recover its power completely in fifteen or twenty years,
and requested strong safeguards against this possibility.53 It was
primarily as a safeguard against the resurgence of Germany and
Japan that the Soviets displayed an interest in the proposal for
a United Nations organization. The Soviet leaders in both their
programmatic speeches and diplomatic discussions with other
powers treated the United Nations as a continuation of the war-
time coalition under peaceful conditions.54 Even before the end
of the war, however, Soviet leaders began to express the fear
that the new instrument of collective security, like its predecessor
the League of Nations, might turn out to be nothing more than
a thinly veiled instrument of one set of powers directed against
another. The United Nations, the Soviets apparently suspected,
might be transformed from the Big Three into an Anglo-Ameri-
can bloc directed against the USSR.55 Subsequent Soviet actions,
largely dictated by the postwar distribution of political power,
have contributed toward the realization of these fears, although
the Soviets, by remaining in the United Nations, have managed
to prevent it from taking effective action against the USSR.

New patterns of power

After victory over the Axis, a new configuration of world
politics rapidly emerged. Germany and Japan were eliminated
as independent sources of power; England was greatly weak-
' ened; and France and Italy were weakened even more. For these
reasons the only effective threat to Soviet interests in the post-
war world would have to come from the United States, and vice
versa. This new situation has often been referred to as the
polarization of power in the postwar world.

As some writers have suggested, there may be nothing in-
herent in a two-power system that inevitably generates conflicts
between these powers.66 But if the conflicts are already present,
they have a tendency to become aggravated. Each "defensive"
measure taken by one power calls forth a corresponding action

Pattern of Foreign Policy 371

by the opposite one. President Roosevelt's wartime policy was
directed toward preventing the United States from initiating such
conflicts, for which he has been subsequently criticized. How-
ever, as has been pointed out, during the war the Russians were
busily engaged in maximizing their potential advantages, and
the British were not altogether behindhand in such activities.
With the conclusion of hostilities, latent conflicts among the
Big Three came out into the open. Sharp competition soon en-
sued for the control of those portions of the world that were
actual or potential sources of political power. On this account,
the remaining lesser powers have tended to associate themselves,
in widely varying degrees of dependence, with either Washington
or Moscow.

Along with this polarization of power there has been a pow-
erful resurgence of Marxist-Leninist doctrine in the USSR. The
first signs appeared in 1943, when Soviet arms were about to turn
from defense to attack. From 1944 onward, the reaffirmation of
Marxism-Leninism-Stalinism increased sharply. A number of spe-
cial schools were established for the training of local leaders
in Marxist theory. The Short Course in the History of the Com-
munist Party, which gives the official Stalinist version of the les-
sons of Bolshevik experience, was revived as a basic text.57 By
the winter of 1944-45, Soviet propaganda was already directed
against the United States and Great Britain. Also, Soviet troops
were told by those responsible for political indoctrination that
they should not let themselves be fooled by the existing alliance
with these capitalist states.

On February 9, 1946, Stalin made an important speech which
summed up and gave official blessing to the changes that had
taken place. He declared that it would be a mistake to think that
the Second World War arose by accident, or because of the errors
of political leaders— an interesting indication that some such idea
may have been circulating in the Party. "Actually," said Stalin,
"the war arose as the inevitable result of the development of
world economic and political forces on the basis of modern
monopoly capitalism." His analysis of the future was a nearly
verbatim restatement of the Leninist thesis that the uneven de-

372 Todays Dilemma

velopment of capitalism usually leads to violent disturbances and
war between capitalist states.58

In the course of repeated restatement since the war, these
ideas have become transformed into the stereotype of world capi-
talism versus Soviet socialism. Thus Voznesensky, while still a
member of the Politburo, wrote in a book on the war economy of
the Soviet Union: "Fattening on the blood of people during the
period of the Second World War, American monopoly capitalism
now stands at the head of the imperialist and anti-democratic
camp and has become the advance guard of imperialist expan-
sion in all parts of the world ... As long as capitalist encircle-
ment exists, we must keep our powder dry. As long as imperial-
ism exists, there remains the danger of attack upon the USSR,
the danger that a new third world war may come." 59

Similar statements constitute the stock-in-trade of the Soviet
press. They are, however, from time to time qualified by remarks
to the effect that Marxism does not preclude the possibility of the
peaceful coexistence of two social systems during a given histori-
cal epoch. Such statements are occasionally found in even the
most savage attacks on the West.60 This qualification is an indi-
cation that the Soviet leaders do not reject outright the possibility
that a diminution of the tension between Moscow and Washing-
ton might promote Soviet interests under current conditions.

Another feature, which distinguishes the current revival of
Leninist doctrines from earlier similar statements, is that the
Soviet leaders now refrain from drawing any revolutionary con-
clusions. Although they state over and over again that capital-
ism is undergoing extreme difficulties, they do not take the next
step, so heavily emphasized by Lenin, and predict that the pro-
letarian revolution is in the ofBng. Even ritual obeisances toward
this revered symbol are rare and take the form of predictions
about the "final liberation of mankind from the capitalist yoke." 01

The revival and vigorous restatement of Marxism-Leninism
cannot be wholly attributed to the persistence of old beliefs. As
part of an over-all development in both domestic and foreign
affairs, it also forms one aspect of the attempt to strengthen" the
hold of the top Party leadership on the country and to correct,

Pattern of Foreign Policy 373

in relatively minor ways, certain weaknesses in the Soviet politi-
cal and economic structure that were revealed during the war.
To some extent the Soviets find it necessary to create capitalist
bogeymen in order to make the Communist version of socialism
function, though it is not always easy to determine the line at
which deliberate deception begins. Finally, the revival of the
Leninist explanation of international politics, which was never
wholly abandoned during the war, provides an illustration of
the way in which ideology may be adapted to explain a new
situation, in this case the postwar polarization of power between
the United States and the USSR. Since the United States hap-
pens to be a capitalist power, it is not difficult for the Soviets to
fit the facts of the contemporary distribution of power into a not
altogether implausible version of Marxism.

In the actual behavior of the Soviets, the revival of Leninist
doctrines makes itself apparent in Soviet policy toward the areas
of Europe liberated and occupied by the Red Army. Communist
control over these areas was established by stages. After the
Nazis had been driven out, coalition regimes, in which the Com-
munists did their best to obtain strategic posts ( such as the con-
trol of the police), were established. These regimes set them-
selves the task of nationalizing industry and distributing among
the peasantry the land taken from the few remaining large estates.
The local Communists, presumably in agreement with the makers
of Soviet policy, followed a variety of popular-front policy. In
their propaganda they made a considerable attempt to obtain
nonproletarian, and particularly peasant, support. For a time
some disinterested observers expressed the hope that the Com-
munists might be losing some of their doctrinaire intransigence
and that the countries in the Soviet orbit might be permitted to
work out a social and economic solution to their problems that
would combine features of Eastern and Western democracy.
Such hopes were destined to severe disappointment* In the period
from 1946 to 1948 the Communist Parties destroyed or absorbed
the older traditional parties by means of a series of skillfully
executed bureaucratic maneuvers and palace revolutions, and
managed to obtain a near monopoly of political power. Though

374 Todays Dilemma

enjoying a certain degree of mass support, these coups were
predominantly "revolutions from above."62

A superficially plausible explanation of the course of events
in the "new democracies" can be obtained through the hypothe-
sis that the Soviets began with the Leninist plan of collaborating
with their future opponents and then eliminating them one by
one. Suitable quotations can be found in abundance in Lenin's
writings to "prove" that such were the tactics he originally advo-
cated. But such an explanation confuses Communist hopes with
Communist foresight. An explanation that does not rely so heav-
ily on long-range planning is probably more in accord with the
facts. Certain Communists themselves have admitted that they
were unaware of the nature and direction of the changes taking
place in the course of the struggle to eliminate the opposition.
"At most we were feeling our way in the right direction," a
Hungarian leader said at a gathering of his Party's prominent
officers. "The Party didn't possess a unified, clarified, elaborated
attitude in respect to the character of the People's Democracy
and its future development." QS

A number of factors in the domestic and international situa-
tion very probably impelled the local Communist Parties and
their Soviet advisers to follow an increasingly intransigent, and in
some respects doctrinaire, policy. The social systems established
in the early postwar period were highly unstable. The ruling
groups, largely identified with the Nazis, had been heavily dis-
credited by the latter's defeat. Many of those persons who had
not fled with the retiring Germans were anxious to regain some
semblance of power. From a more purely economic point of view,
large-scale rural underemployment, which can only be solved
temporarily by a redistribution of the land, was an endemic fea-
ture of much of Eastern Europe. Industrialization under a planned
economy, together with some form of cooperative farming, ap-
pears on objective grounds to be about the only solution in this
area. It is significant in this connection that the form of collective
agriculture, undertaken so far on a small but nevertheless in-
creasing scale, is not the Soviet kolkhoz but a producers' cooper-
ative, in which the individual peasant household retains title to

Pattern of Foreign Policy 375

the land,64 Still another important factor is the absence of a
strong parliamentary tradition in several of the East European
states, although Czechoslovakia constitutes a significant excep-
tion in this respect. For these and other reasons the trend toward
socialist forms in the "new democracies" cannot by any means
be considered purely a matter of external pressures by the Sovi-
ets or their agents, the Communist Parties.

The impact of Russian Marxist ideology may be discerned in
the following aspects of the situation. In the first place, it is dif-
ficult for trained Communists to belong to a coalition without
seeking to dominate the situation. To a certain extent this is
true of any political grouping that cooperates with another for
limited ends when their general goals are dissimilar. But it applies
more strongly to Communists than to those who have absorbed
even a small portion of the Western liberal tradition. The con-
ception of a "loyal opposition" is utterly alien to the Communist
viewpoint. In the second place, when Communists do get power,
it is not within the framework of their doctrine to establish an
open society composed of competing interest groupings. Instead,
they attempt to eliminate opposition groups as rapidly as possible
without endangering their own position, always with the argu-
ment that they are acting in the interests of the broad masses of
the population. Still another aspect of Leninist ideology may be
noted in the fact that the Soviets have continually endeavored to
alter the social and economic structure of areas over which they
have gained control in a way that will strengthen their own po-
sition. Their behavior is such that it suggests very strongly that
influential Soviet leaders still think in terms of the simpler Marx-
ist categories of class interest. The ruling groups are apparently
(and often justifiably) assumed to be hostile to Soviet interests,
as are large portions of the middle classes. The peasants have to
be "neutralized" or their support won by certain immediate con-
cessions; the industrial workers, a small group in Eastern Eu-
rope now as in Russia in 1917, are evidently regarded as the
most reliable base for Soviet power.

One need be no mystical believer in the inevitability of trends
to observe that in this combination of men, ideas, and circum-

376 Todays Dilemma

stances there is an inner logic that urges the Communists toward
an increasingly doctrinaire application of their views. The exist-
ence of opposition to the Communists makes it necessary for them
to be increasingly systematic in stamping out what appears to
them as the economic roots of such hostility. It is from this view-
point, rather than that of an unchanging goal grimly pursued by
master tacticians, that we may perhaps gain an understanding of
the role of the Leninist tradition in shaping Soviet policy toward
Eastern Europe.

Although the clearest examples of the role of Marxist doc-
trines occur in the satellite states, their influence may also be
observed in Germany and China, areas whose eventual fate will
be far more crucial in determining the outcome of the present
struggle. In these areas the employment of such Marxist tech-
niques as the transformation of the existing social structure has
been intertwined with other policies designed to promote Russian
national interests. There may be noted in this process a series of
conflicts between policies adopted in pursuit of immediate short-
range objectives and policies designed for long-range ends. The
net impression obtained from examining Soviet actions is one of
flexible empiricism in the pursuit of power objectives.

One of the recurring features of the balance of power is the
attempt by the victors, when they fall out among themselves,
to gain the assistance of the vanquished against their erstwhile
allies. Since Germany, whose industry was not as thoroughly de-
stroyed by bombing as was supposed in some American circles
during the war, remains one of the major bases of political power,
the struggle between the East and the West for the de facto con-
trol of Germany has been an acute one. Only a few of the high-
lights need be mentioned here to draw attention to some of the
main features of Soviet policy.65

Soviet policy within Germany has revealed two somewhat
contradictory tendencies. On the one hand, there is an obvious
effort to get as much out of Germany in the way of material goods
and services as possible. On the other hand, there is the attempt
to control and direct German social and political development
to serve larger Soviet aims in relation to the Soviet conflict with

Pattern of Foreign Policy 377

the Western powers. Both policies have been pursued simultane-
ously, and at times have tended to nullify one another.

The first or exploitative policy is reflected in the Soviet pro-
posal at Yalta that 80 per cent of all German industry should be
confiscated, carried away physically, and used as reparations
payments. On this occasion the Soviets made a strong but un-
successful effort to persuade the British and Americans to agree
to a total reparations bill of twenty billion dollars, of which half
should go to the USSR.66 During the early part of the Soviet occu-
pation, according to widespread press reports, the Russians did
indeed confiscate and remove all sorts of equipment. Later this
policy was at least superficially reversed, when in January of 1947
the Soviet-supported Socialist Unity Party promised for the
Soviet zone an economic level above that of Potsdam.67 How-
ever, on March 17, 1947, Molotov again asked for ten billion
dollars' worth of reparations from Germany.68 Soviet insistence
on reparations of such great magnitude was one of the major
issues that brought about the collapse of this attempt by the
former allies to reach a settlement of the German question.

The second policy— which might be called a policy of recon-
ciliation—found its first sharp expression in Molotov's speech of
July 10, 1946, at the Paris Council of Foreign Ministers. In this
speech Molotov asserted that feelings of revenge ought not to
be a guide in the framing of a treaty with Germany, and that
it would not be in the interests of the world's economy or the
tranquillity of Europe to destroy the German state, or to destroy
her major industries and convert her to an agricultural nation.
Germany should instead be given the opportunity for a wider
industrial development, which should merely be guided along
peaceful lines and in the direction of serving the peaceful re-
quirements of the German population, including those of trade
with Germany's neighbors. Before a peace treaty was actually
signed, Molotov continued, a single German government, demo-
cratic, peace-loving and sufficiently responsible to be able to
carry out its obligations to the allies, ought to be created.69 The
American response to this bid for German support was not long
in coming. In his famous Stuttgart speech of September 6, 1946,

378 Today's Dilemma

Secretary of State Byrnes made similar comments concerning the
economy of Germany and, more important, announced that the
United States did not regard the Polish acquisition of East Ger-
man territory as final.70 This pair of speeches by Byrnes and
Molotov might be regarded as the unofficial funeral of the Pots-
dam agreement and the overt beginning of a race for Germany
between the Western powers and the USSR, though the roots of
the split can be traced back to the divergent policies of the vari-
ous powers from the first days of the occupation.

The contradiction between the exploitative and conciliatory
aspects of Soviet policy toward Germany may perhaps be re-
solved in the light of general Soviet purposes. By demanding
and taking high reparations, the Soviets ease the task of recon-
struction in the USSR and simultaneously keep German indus-
trial power out of Western hands. Such objectives help to clarify
Molotov's demand at Potsdam, as well as on later occasions, for
Soviet participation in the control of the Ruhr. Finally, by their
exploitative technique the Soviets may hope, as they frequently
assert, to destroy the economic and social basis of German
militarism. At the same time, through their efforts to promote
a high level of economic activity in their zone, the Soviets aim
at increasing the quantity of materials available to the USSR and
also winning German support for Soviet goals.71

The over-all result of these forces has been the partition of
Germany. Each side has devoted considerable energy to the in-
corporation of the territory under its control into its larger po-
litical strategy. The more important steps taken by the West
have included the internationalization of the Ruhr, the inclusion
of Western Germany in the Marshall Plan, the slowing of de-
cartelization, and the formation of a Western German state,
which, it was hoped, might act as a magnet upon the Soviet zone.
Soviet tactics have included the effort to force the Western
allies out of Berlin, an attempt they were forced to abandon in
the spring of 1949, and the formation of their own "independent"
state, under Communist auspices, in Eastern Germany. In this
area their efforts have been centered upon promoting a political
and economic pattern guaranteeing their own hegemony, similar

Pattern of Foreign Policy 379

to that adopted in the new democracies. At the same time, they
have encouraged the expression of German nationalist senti-
ments in the hope that the new East German state will attract
more support than its Western counterpart. In this tug of war
the technique of many German leaders has been to use the con-
cessions granted by either the Soviets or the Western powers
as a lever to extract further concessions from the opposite power.
However, this policy has not been very successful thus far,
since neither the Soviets nor the Western powers seem willing
to relax their hold on Germany. Both are reluctant to abandon
this hold for fear that their antagonist might gain control of all
Germany. While future moves cannot be predicted in detail, it
is safe to conclude that both sides will continue to try to
strengthen their own position and make inroads upon that of
their opponents. Although Eastern and Western techniques may
differ, the power struggle for control of Germany is not likely
to diminish.

Since Europe, and especially Germany with its important in-
dustrial base, constitutes the major locus of power conflicts, it
has received the largest amount of public attention and, in the
United States at least, the largest amount of attention by re-
sponsible policy-makers. Nevertheless, events have taken place
in the Far East which, in terms of power potentialities, may
have more far-reaching consequences. Although the Soviets were
balked in their efforts to extend their influence into Japan,72
the march of events has led to a great extension of Soviet influ-
ence on the Asiatic mainland, and to a corresponding diminution
of Western power. In part, this has been the result of Asiatic at-
tempts to throw off Western capitalist influences, a long-term
movement upon which the Soviets have attempted to capitalize
without success until most recently. If in the Asiatic arena they
succeed in making long-term social trends serve their power in-
terests, they may achieve a fundamental victory in the struggle
with the United States.

There is evidence that the top Soviet policy-makers up until
the end of 1946 may have overestimated the strength of the
Chinese Nationalist regime, as well as the amount of assistance

380 Todays Dilemma

the United States would be able to render Chiang Kai-shek. In
1944 Molotov told two representatives of President Roosevelt
that the United States should take the lead in unifying and
strengthening China.73 In a similar vein, Stalin at Potsdam spoke
of Chiang Kai-shek as the only possible leader for China.74 Both
Stalin and Molotov denied that the Chinese Communists were
real Communists, owing any allegiance to the Soviet Union, a
denial that is no more significant in itself than numerous similar
statements by Soviet leaders concerning the alleged independence
of Communist Parties elsewhere outside the USSR. At this time
the Soviet leaders did not urge the formation in China of a
coalition regime to include the Communists, perhaps because
this point then formed a major objective in American policy.

In the early postwar years the Soviets adopted the policy, al-
ready familiar in Eastern Europe, of verbal adherence to the
principles of Allied cooperation, while striving to obtain as much
for themselves as possible. By the Sino-Soviet Treaty of August
14, 1945, the Soviets recognized Chiang Kai-shek, and not
the Communists, as the legal ruler of China. Article 5 of the
treaty contained the usual phrases about mutual undertakings to
refrain from interference in each other's internal affairs. This
was reaffirmed in December of the same year, when the British,
American, and Soviet chiefs of the respective foreign offices an-
nounced their agreement "upon the necessity of a united and
democratic China under the control of the National Govern-
ment."75

Nevertheless, by the Sino-Soviet agreement the Russians
gained effective control of the Chinese Eastern Railway and the
South Manchurian Railway (renamed the Chinese Changchun
Railway) and the ports of Dairen and Port Arthur. By this
maneuver the Russians recaptured the former outposts of Tsarist
Russia in the Far East. Likewise, as the result of a plebiscite
agreed upon between the USSR and China, Outer Mongolia ob-
tained "full independence" from China and fell even more
definitely than before into the Soviet orbit.76

At the same time, the Red Army took a number of steps that
enabled the Chinese Communists to seize power temporarily

Pattern of Foreign Policy 381

in a few of the more important Manchurian cities and to entrench
themselves rather firmly in neighboring areas. Among the more
significant Russian actions was their refusal to permit the Na-
tionalists to use Dairen as a port of entry for their troops.77
The entrenchment of the Communists was further facilitated by
the fact that the Chinese National Government on two occasions
requested the Soviets to prolong their stay in China. Soviet
troops were not finally withdrawn from China until May 3, 1946.78

Since American efforts to produce a reconciliation between
the Nationalist and Communist forces in China ran up against
increasing obstacles, the Soviets evidently considered the pos-
sibility of giving diplomatic support to the Communist cause.
At the Moscow Conference of March 10, 1947, when the Chinese
Communists had already adopted a strongly anti-American posi-
tion, Molotov attempted to bring up the Chinese question for
settlement among the great powers. In this move, however, he
was rebuffed by the Americans.70

The subsequent sweep of the Chinese Communists to the
banks of the Yangtze and beyond can probably be accounted
for on the basis of internal conditions in China. The disintegra-
tion of the Kuomintang, whose weaknesses had been apparent
at a much earlier date, and the fact that the Communists had a
program with stronger appeal to the peasant masses, are prob-
ably more important factors in the Nationalist debacle than
surreptitious Soviet assistance to the Communists. Partly in order
to avoid arousing American antagonism, which might have re-
sulted in greater support for the Nationalist cause, the Soviets
followed a policy, at least at the visible level, of extreme diplo-
matic correctness toward the collapsing Nationalist regime.
When the Communists captured Peiping, Tientsin, and Shanghai,
the Russians closed their consulates, declaring that a new regime,
not recognized by the Soviet government, had come to these
cities.80

As soon as the Communists had gained control over enough
territory to put forth the claim that they were the legitimate
rulers of China, the Soviets abandoned this fagade of neutrality.
On October 2, 1949, the day following the proclamation of the

382 Today's Dilemma

Chinese People's Republic, the Soviets granted diplomatic recog-
nition to the new regime. Not long afterward the claim began
to appear in the Soviet press that the Chinese Communists owed
their success in large measure to the "support of the forces of
the world democratic camp, headed by the Soviet Union, the
sole defender of democracy and national independence/'81

The significance of the recognition and subsequent press com-
ment does not lie in their very slight value as evidence con-
cerning the Soviet role in the Chinese civil war. If the new Re-
public is a success from the Soviet viewpoint, Stalin will probably
receive the credit, no matter what the facts were. The significance
lies rather in the indication given by these actions that the
Soviets will now give open support to the Communist regime,
at the same time that they endeavor to bring it under Soviet
control. Since the Chinese Communists have built up their Party
organization on a power base among the peasantry, which in
the past at least was very largely independent of Soviet support,
hopes have been expressed that the Chinese Communists may
follow the course taken by Tito. However, with the rapid ex-
pansion of Chinese Communist influence, great opportunities
are now opened up for Soviet intrigue within the Chinese Party,
which may enable the Russians to subordinate it effectively to
their own interests.

Certainly the difficulties facing any Soviet-directed effort
toward welding China into an integrated political unit and cre-
ating an industrial base for effective power on the international
scene are enormous. But if the Soviets succeed, the time may
come when their success will be regarded as the greatest disaster
ever faced by the United States.82

The several phases of Soviet foreign policy in Europe and
Asia represent in their essentials a single, continuous pattern. In
this pattern the Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist tradition has had, at
each stage, varying degrees of influence upon the specific way
in which the Soviet Union has reacted to the shifting distribu-
tion of power in international politics. Sooner or later, however,
the Soviets have danced the power political quadrille, throwing
ihe weight of their force against any grouping of powers that

Pattern of Foreign Policy 383

showed signs of threatening their security. They have always
aligned themselves against their "natural" antagonist in the bal-
ance of power at a given time. The choice of antagonist or allies
has been determined not primarily by ideological factors, but
by the structure of the balance-of -power system itself.

17

The Relations of Ideology and
Foreign Policy

The impact of experience on behavior and doctrine

The rapid adjustment to the ways of international politics exe-
cuted by Lenin in 1918 has been continued by Stalin down to the
present day. So far, however, there are few if any signs of the
development in the Soviet Union of an overt tradition that recog-
nizes the role played by the balance of power in Soviet foreign
policy. For the most part, the major shifts in the international
distribution of power have continued to find their explanation
in the familiar Leninist categories, at least insofar as the public
speeches and writings of prominent Soviet leaders are concerned.
The enemy of the moment has always been showered with
strong Marxist invective concerning the evils of monopoly capi-
talism and imperialism. First, the major recipients were the Anglo-
French plutocracies. Later, Nazi Germany held the limelight, to
be replaced after the war by the United States. Intertwined with
these Marxist themes have been others of a more strictly na-
tionalist nature, which came to the fore after about 1934 and
were most prominent during the years of war against Germany.
Even then, as has sometimes been asserted, the Soviet Union
did not fight the war under strictly nationalist slogans. Stalin's
major wartime speeches had strong Marxist overtones, as in
his references to Hitler and Himmler as the "chained dogs of the
German bankers,"1 his references to Nazi imperialism, and his
distinction, based on Lenin, between aggressive wars and wars
of liberation.2

Ideology and Foreign Policy 385

Perhaps the most striking modification of Communist doctrine
concerning international relations is the sharp toning down of
revolutionary optimism. It is necessary to go back to 1929 to
find any statement by a top Soviet leader to the effect that the
proletarian revolution would take place in the near future. In
that year Stalin spoke of strengthening the Comintern to help the
working class prepare "for impending revolutionary battles/'3
although the Third International had actually adopted a de-
fensive policy by this time. Some five years later, in 1934,
Stalin declared that, as a result of the economic tendencies of
imperialism, war "for a new redivision of the world" was the
order of the day, and drew the conclusion that the coming con-
flict was "sure to unleash revolution" and to "jeopardize the
existence of capitalism."4 But by this time the expression of
revolutionary optimism was very much less. Stalin conceded that
the "masses of the people have not yet reached the stage when
they are ready to storm capitalism," though he did add, some-
what lamely perhaps, that "the idea of storming it is maturing in
the minds of the masses— of that there can hardly be any doubt." 5

From this time onward Stalin refrained from making revo-
lutionary predictions. Only relatively minor figures continued on
rare occasions to make such statements. In 1939, at a Party
Congress, L. Mekhlis, head of the Red Army's political indoc-
trination and control apparatus, spoke about the 'liquidation of
capitalist encirclement" and remarked that, should "the second
imperialist war turn its point against the first socialist state in
the world," the Red Army would carry the war to the enemy
and "fulfil its internationalist obligations and increase the num-
ber of Soviet Republics."6 Such remarks, moreover, were con-
fined to Party circles, while the propaganda directed to the
countiy at large adopted a more nationalistic and patriotic tone.7

The mention of the Red Army as the chief instrument of revo-
lution indicates that the Soviets had begun to doubt very seri-
ously that "spontaneous" proletarian revolutions, even if assisted
by Moscow, would succeed in parts of the world over which
the Soviets exercised no direct control. The experience of the
years following the Second World War may have confirmed this

386 Today's Dilemma

viewpoint. In the course of acrid correspondence with Tito be-
fore the Soviet- Yugoslav break became public, the Central Com-
mittee of the Russian Party declared: "It is also necessary tc
emphasize that the services of the French and Italian CPs [Com-
munist Parties] to the revolution were not less but greater than
the CPY [Communist Party of Yugoslavia]. Even though the
French and Italian CPs have so far achieved less success than
the CPY, this is not due to any special qualities of the CPY, but
mainly because . . . the Soviet army came to the aid of the
Yugoslav people . . . Unfortunately the Soviet army did not
and could not render such assistance to the French and Italian
CPs."8

"Historicus," the anonymous author of a widely publicized
article, "Stalin on Revolution,"9 has made an exhaustive study
of Stalin's writings and cites no prediction of revolution made
later than 1934. Nevertheless, as he points out, many of the
earlier documents with their fire-eating passages are reprinted
and circulated widely today with the cachet of authority. From
this fact, however, the conclusion cannot be drawn that the older
ideas are still accepted as the basis for policy, since a number
of Lenin's more equalitarian writings, which are no longer taken
seriously as a basis for policy, also receive wide circulation. Nor
is it necessarily correct to assume that the Soviet leaders believe
in some kind of regular ebb and flood in the revolutionary situa-
tion, since the ebb of revolutionary optimism in Soviet statements
is much more marked than the flood. Even the present Marxist
revival fails to draw overt revolutionary conclusions. However,
the continued circulation of the older revolutionary symbolism,
even though it does not appear in current statements, may well
be an indication that this point of view remains a latent one,
which could reappear in a modified form under favorable cir-
cumstances. Such a recurrence of latent and temporarily dis-
carded ideas has taken place under favoring circumstances on
other occasions, such as in the years of forced collectivization
and industrialization following the relaxation of the NEP.

The evidence concerning changes in officially promulgated
doctrine is abundant; that concerning the actual beliefs of Soviet

Ideology and Foreign Policy 387

policy-makers is highly fragmentary. Nevertheless, enough data
are available to permit tentative inferences.

There are several indications that the Leninist theses con-
cerning imperialism, war, and revolution underwent skeptical
scrutiny in high Soviet quarters as a consequence of the experi-
ences of World War II. Stalin on several occasions during the
war expressed complete disenchantment with the German work-
ing class, formerly the apple of the Comintern's eye, and was
particularly bitter about its support of the Nazi attack on the
Soviet Union. It is worth noting that this represents a wartime
shift in Stalin's expressed opinions, since at the outbreak of the
conflict he had told the Soviet people that they could count on
allies among the German people,10

Other evidence on this point is contradictory. The contradic-
tions may be accounted for by two hypotheses: first, that the
Soviet leaders themselves were not sure of their position; and
secondly, that they tried to maintain the appearance of con-
sistency before outsiders and even moderately high officials in
their own bureaucratic hierarchy. In other European Communist
Parties there was lively discussion during the war about whether
or not capitalism was really aggressive and expansionist.11 It
is unlikely that the Soviets, despite their generally stricter con-
trols, could avoid raising the question among themselves.

The American correspondent, Edgar Snow, reports that the
late Alexander Shcherbakov, Vice-Commissar of Defense and an
alternate member of the Politburo, agreed in private conversa-
tion that capitalist assistance to the USSR constituted a "pro-
found deviation from the development of history as foreseen in
Lenin's work Imperialism." 12 Snow also reports that P. F. Yudin,
a prominent Russian economist and head of the State Publishing
House, told him, "It is proved that there is nothing in Marxism
which need prevent progressive capitalist countries from co-
operating closely with the Soviet Union in the economic and
cultural spheres." 1S The report is significant in suggesting the pos-
sibility that the "deviation of the economists," for which Eugene
Varga was to suffer at a later date, owes its origin to the experi-
ence of the war. Yudin's remark, if reported correctly, goes much

388 Today's Dilemma

further than any statement for which Varga was later attacked.
It is also worth noting that such "subversive" ideas were the
chief targets of attack in the closed wartime indoctrination meet-
ings of Party bureaucrats, if Victor Kravchenko's account of
such affairs may be accepted. Ironically enough, Yudin turns up
in Kravchenko's report as one of the attackers. He is quoted by
the Soviet exile as telling the assembled Party officials that the
Soviet "war partnership with the capitalist nations must not breed
illusions . . . The two worlds of capitalism and Communism
cannot forever exist side by side. Kto kogo? who will conquer
whom?— remains the great question now as always. It repre-
sents the chief problem of the future/' 14

Such reports need not be dismissed because they are super-
ficially contradictory. They agree on the point that is significant:
that "illusions" concerning the possibilities of collaboration with
capitalism existed. And it is also understandable that Yudin, in
the light of his position, should be given the task of laying down
the line to those at the lower levels of the Kremlin hierarchy.15
Though there may have been a certain amount of questioning
of accepted doctrines during the war, subsequent events have
revealed that the top Soviet policy-makers, as early as 1944, be-
came convinced of the necessity of making a strong effort to re-
impose at least outward conformity to the Leninist theories of
imperialism. The energy with which this has been done and
the extent to which it has been carried might be a further reflec-
tion of the degree to which these doctrines were questioned dur-
ing the war. After the war a process of ideological purification
was carried out in the natural sciences, philosophy, economics,
and the arts. The Leninist view of the world was repeated with
much energy and little variety.

The polarization of world power into the two major centers,
Washington and Moscow, together with the resulting competition
between the Soviet Union and the United States, has created a
situation in which doctrinaires on both sides of the Iron Curtain
can easily find justification for their views. It is highly likely
that certain Soviet leaders who retained their suspicions of the
West during the war, but whose influence was partly diminished

Ideology and Foreign Policy 389

by the necessities of cooperating against a common enemy,
found their advice taken more seriously as the postwar tensions
became more serious. One may even guess that Zhdanov may
have been the spearhead of this anti-Western revival in private,
as he was in public. Among other reasons for the postwar ideolog-
ical purification may be fear on the part of the Soviet leaders that
the events of the war, including widespread personal contact
of Russian occupation forces with nonsocialist cultures, have un-
dermined mass belief in official doctrines and hence threatened
support of the Communist elite. Such fears might even be tinged
with worries about the effectiveness of one of the chief com-
peting doctrines, the American version of liberalism. Stalin in
1941 told Harry Hopkins that Roosevelt and the United States
had more influence with the common people of the world than
any other force.16 Although it is unlikely that he considers Presi-
dent Truman an equally charismatic force, Stalin may retain
traces of his original attitude.

While it is reasonably certain that doubts have continued
to arise in Kremlin circles concerning the applicability of spe-
cific points of Marxist doctrine, just as they arose in the past dur-
ing the days of open polemics, it is probable that the top leaders
have not abandoned the Marxist-Leninist categories for the or-
dering of experience. Foreign affairs are in all likelihood still seen
through the Marxist prism, even though the reddish hues may
not take up so prominent a portion of the spectrum. On general
grounds, it might be anticipated that one consequence of political
responsibility would be to produce among the Soviet leaders a
cynical and manipulative attitude toward their own public sym-
bolism. In the history of Nazi-Soviet relations between 1939
and 1941 there are a number of striking illustrations of this at-
titude. It is worth noting, however, that this evidence gives no
clear indication of a cynical attitude toward any of the central
assumptions of Leninist doctrine.

One of the incidents concerns Soviet efforts to construct a
communiqu^ justifying the Nazi-Soviet partition of Poland in
1939. According to the German records, both Molotov and Stalin
concerned themselves personally with this apparently minor task,

390 Today's Dilemma

an indication of the serious attention given by the Politburo to
the proper manipulation of words and symbols. At one point
Molotov wished to give a presentable motive for Soviet actions
by the argument (among others) that the Soviet Union "con-
sidered itself obligated to intervene to protect its Ukrainian and
White Russian brothers and make it possible for these unfortu-
nate people to work in peace." In discussions with the Germans,
Molotov conceded that the projected argument contained a note
jarring to German sensibilities, but asked that the Germans
overlook this trifle in view of the difficult situation in which the
Soviet government found itself. "The Soviet Government," the
report of Molotov's conversation continued, "unfortunately saw
no possibility of any other motivation, since the Soviet Union
had thus far not concerned itself about the plight of its minorities
in Poland and had to justify abroad, in some way or other, its
present intervention."17 The next day the German ambassador
submitted a draft of the joint communiqu£ to Molotov for ap-
proval. Stalin, when called on the telephone by Molotov, stated
that he could not entirely agree to the German text, "since it
presented the facts all too frankly," and instead wrote out a new
draft in his own hand.18

Stalin's willingness to cast overboard old symbols and adopt
new ones as the occasion requires is shown by his reported re-
marks at the meeting with Ribbentrop and Molotov on the night
of August 23, 1939. The German account reads: "In the course of
the conversation Herr Stalin spontaneously proposed a toast
to the Fiihrer, as follows: 1 know how much the German na-
tion loves its Fiihrer; I should therefore like to drink to his
health/ " 19 Few other Communists at home or abroad were able
to make the change with a lighthearted toast.

The impact of doctrine on behavior

Even though the Soviet Union has been compelled by the
structure of international power relations to adopt a diplomacy
closely resembling that of any other modern state, there remain
a number of individual characteristics attributable to the Marxist-
Leninist tradition. The familiar comparison between the be-

Ideology and Foreign Policy 391

havior of states under balance-of -power conditions and the dance
has already been referred to. It might be added that the Marxist-
Leninist tradition affects the way in which the Russian bear
hears the music, and hence the way it executes the steps. It must
be realized, of course, that we are dealing here with groups
rather than individuals, and that a group's composition, in the
widest sense of the word, including its specific ideology, affects
the way in which it responds to situations facing it. Though the
similarities are greater than the differences, the United States,
England, and other great powers exhibit their own special traits
in their responses to the ever-changing balance of power.

The role of Marxist-Leninist ideology can be observed in the
Soviet response to the danger presented by German National
Socialism, particularly in its beginning stages. As has been seen,
this factor helped to delay the Soviets in adopting a policy hostile
to the Nazis. Similar factors were at work in slowing up the Soviet
response to Japanese expansionism in the early thirties. Marxist
ideas also contributed to the series of mutual suspicions that
broke up the first anti-Nazi coalition with the Western powers
at Munich. They played a part in the difficulties and frictions
connected with maintaining the wartime coalition of the Big
Three, and contributed to its subsequent disintegration. Further-
more, an important part of Soviet diplomatic technique— the
utilization of the Communist Parties and the promotion of a spe-
cific type of economic and social transformation of society— is
clearly derived from the Leninist tradition as modified by subse-
quent experience.

It is not possible to determine with mathematical precision,
of course, the exact contribution of Marxist ideology to Soviet
behavior in Russia's relations with other powers. The evidence
seems to indicate that Marxist doctrine has not made the Soviet
Union join any coalition or abandon any alliance that it would
not have joined, or abandoned, on grounds of simple national
self-interest. Yet there are clear indications that in some cases
Marxist ideology retarded the shift, while in others it speeded
up the change.

To Marxist ideology may also be attributed some portion of

392 Todays Dilemma

that dynamic expansionism that has been characteristic of Soviet
policy since 1939. The important question, however, is how
much?

Russian expansion can be explained very largely without ref-
erence to Marxist ideological factors. For the most part, each
step in Soviet expansion can be considered a logical move to
counter a specific actual or potential enemy. The absorption of
part of Poland, the Baltic States, and the Rumanian portion of
Bessarabia, and the war against Finland were part of Soviet ef-
forts to keep pace with Germany's growing power and were
directed specifically against the German threat. In the Second
World War the Soviets could scarcely have permitted their
Anglo-American partners to extend Western influence into all
sections of the power vacuum created by the Axis defeat. It is
clear, of course, that the Russians never had any such intentions,
and they did their best to emerge from the conflict in as strong
a position as possible, a policy also followed by Great Britain
and at a somewhat later date by the United States. American ex-
pansion in both Europe and Asia has often been hesitant and
reluctant. Nevertheless, the war ended with an American gen-
eral in Berlin and another in Tokyo. This the Soviets could
hardly afford to neglect. They enlarged and consolidated their
own sphere of influence by ways that are made familiar in the
daily headlines. In rivalries of this type, it is futile to argue
which contestant has aggressive intentions and which has peace-
able aims, since each move in the struggle calls out its counter-
move from the opponent.

What, then, is there left for the Marxist ideological factor
to explain? This much at least: the Marxist-Leninist tradition
has made it very difficult to reach a modus Vivendi with the
Soviets, which the Americans have been genuinely anxious to
do. A belief in the inherently aggressive tendencies of modern
capitalism obviously excludes any agreement except an armed
truce of undetermined duration. Likewise, the acceptance of
Leninist theory makes it almost impossible to believe in the
friendly intentions of American leaders. Even though the Soviets
may accept the personal honesty of individual American leaders,

Ideology and Foreign Policy 393

as seems to have been the case in Stalin's relations with Harry
Hopkins, they are likely to feel that this is a matter of little con-
sequence, since objective factors will push any capitalist state
into warlike adventures. By heightening their suspicions, the
Marxist-Leninist tradition makes the Soviets much more prone
to take the protective steps just reviewed and hence to aggravate
existing tensions.

The role of ideology in Soviet expansionism may also be ex-
amined from a slightly different standpoint. With the victory of
Soviet arms there has been a sharp resurgence of statements
about the superiority of the Soviet version of socialism as a way
of life. Although such statements serve specific domestic pur-
poses, it would be rash to disregard them as evidence of a con-
tinuing belief that the Soviet system represents the wave of the
future. It is probably a belief only distantly related to immedi-
ate tactical problems of everyday diplomacy. When Soviet di-
plomacy was on the defensive, such ideas were relatively un-
important. Now that the situation has altered so tremendously
in favor of the USSR, it is highly probable that such beliefs
have been imbued with new life. While it is difficult to point to
specific incidents and illustrations, this aspect of Marxist doc-
trine may account for the persistence with which the Soviets
search for weak spots in the positions of their diplomatic op-
ponents. At the very least, it has probably helped them to refuse
to admit defeat when their fortunes are low, and to press every
advantage home when their fortunes are high.

As was seen in connection with other aspects of Leninist doc-
trine, under the impact of political responsibility, goals and tac-
tics, means and ends, have become jumbled up with one an-
other and have often tended to change places. The familiar
thesis that the Soviets have pursued a single aim through flex-
ible tactics will not withstand the test of comparison with the
historical record. Even though the proletarian revolution may
still be a latent goal in Soviet policy, after the victory of Novem-
ber 1917 it was increasingly regarded as a technique, and only
as one technique among many, for strengthening the socialist
fortress. Soviet policy in the satellite states has been a very care-

394 Today's Dilemma

fully modulated effort to effect a social and economic transforma-
tion of these countries in order to render them more amenable
to Soviet interests. Isaac Deutscher, Stalin's recent biographer,
has pointed out how the instruments of revolution, the secret
police and the army, have in these areas assumed the leading
role, and has contrasted the new movement with the original
revolutionary impulse that created these instruments.20 The con-
trast reveals in concrete and dramatic form the transformation
of revolution from a goal into a technique. The change is, to be
sure, not a complete one. Soviet leaders acquire Communist vir-
tue by extending the influence of the Kremlin to foreign lands,
no matter how this is done. If there is any central goal behind
the policy of the Soviet leaders, it is the preservation and exten-
sion of their own power, by any means whatever, rather than
the spread of a specific social system or the realization of a
doctrinal blueprint.

Some prospects

During the postwar years the hostilities and tensions be-
tween East and West have increased, with but few and transient
interruptions. Each measure taken by one of the contestants to
strengthen its position has been rapidly followed by counter-
measures on the other side in a continuing vicious circle. For
those who value peace and the major question is an obvious one:
can the vicious circle be broken at any point? Is there any pos-
sibility of achieving a reduction in tension or in stabilizing the
present distribution of power?

Before this question can be answered, it is necessary to know
the answers to certain others. For example, it is necessary to
know whether the Soviets are impelled by the dynamism of the
vicious circle alone, or whether there are important internal
forces in Russian society that by themselves, and independent
of the balance of power, work to produce expansionist tendencies.
In other words, has Soviet expansion during the past decade
been primarily defensive, and would it come to rest if external
threats were removed? Or is the world now witnessing a special
variety of expansionism: Communist imperialism? The same gen-

Ideology and Foreign Policy 395

eral series of questions would have to be answered about the
United States, but the analysis in this study must necessarily be
confined to the Russian side of the equation.

Four considerations enter into the conclusion advanced by
many that the Soviet system contains a number of internal ex-
pansionist forces impelling it to seek one conquest after another,
It is often said that, because the USSR is an authoritarian state,
its rulers need a continuous series of triumphs in order to main-
tain their power. The rulers of a dictatorship., it is claimed, cannot
afford to rest on their laurels. Occasionally this type of argu-
ment is supported by a neo-Freudian chain of reasoning. It is
asserted that the frustrations imposed upon the individual in
modern society, especially under a dictatorship, tend to produce
socially destructive impulses that have to be channeled outward
against an external enemy if the society is not to destroy itself.
The second line of argument, at a different level of analysis,
emphasizes the indications of a strong power drive in Stalin's
personality. Parallels can be drawn on this basis between his urge
for new worlds to conquer and the political aspirations of Na-
poleon, Hitler, and others. A third line of reasoning points to
various indications in Soviet statements and actions of an old-
fashioned interest in territorial expansion that shows strong re-
semblances to traditional Tsarist policy. The latter argument draws
its reasoning from the facts of geography and history, emphasizing
traditional Russian interest in warm- water ports, the long drive
to the South and East, and similar matters. Under the fourth type
of argument, Marxist-Leninist ideology is selected as a separate
expansionist force. Persons who hold this view point out the
Messianic qualities of Marxist doctrine and the continuous need
for struggle and victory that it generates.

Each of these arguments and hypotheses represents some
portion of the truth. It might even be possible to reduce them to a
single theoretical scheme— a task, however, that lies outside the
scope of the present work. And before such a task could be under-
taken, it is necessary to break the arguments down even more and
point to a number of additional considerations and factors that
operate to prevent further Soviet expansion. This may be done

396 Todays Dilemma

by examining the validity of each of the four arguments presented
above.

Concerning the first point, that authoritarian states tend to
be expansionist ones, it is necessary to express reservations and
doubts on both general and specific grounds. The connection
between the internal organization of a society and its foreign
policy is a complex question that cannot yet be answered on the
basis of simple formulas. Athens engaged in foreign conquest
perhaps more than did warlike Sparta, and the Japanese, despite
the militaristic emphasis of their society, lived in isolation for
centuries until the time of their forced contacts with the West. To
show that the authoritarian structure of any state is a source of
expansionist tendencies, one would have to show the way in which
these pressures make themselves felt upon those responsible for
foreign policy. At this point the argument often breaks down,
though there are cases where it can be shown that the rulers have
embarked on an adventurous policy to allay internal discontent.
But those at the apex of the political pyramid in an authori-
tarian regime are frequently freer from the pressures of mass
discontent than are the responsible policy-makers of a Western
democracy. They can therefore afford to neglect much longer the
dangers of internal hostilities. Furthermore, modern events reveal
the weakness of the argument that a warlike policy is the result
of hostilities toward outsiders among the individuals who make
up the society. In the days of total war it is necessary to use all
sorts of force and persuasion, from propaganda to conscription,
to make men and women fight. To regard war as primarily the
expression of the hostilities of rank-and-file citizens of various
states toward one another is to fly in the face of these facts.

In the case of the Soviet Union, the Nazi-Soviet Pact of 1939
shows that the rulers of modern Russia had no difficulty in dis-
regarding the hostilities to Nazism that had been built up during
preceding years, and that in this respect they enjoyed greater
freedom for prompt adjustment of disputes than did other
countries. Both totalitarian partners were able to keep mass
hostility under control as long as it suited purposes and plans
based on the configuration of international power relationships.

Ideology and Foreign Policy 397

In addition, those who conclude that external expansion is
necessary for the survival of the Soviet leaders overlook the fact
that war places a severe strain on the Party's control over Rus-
sian society. War tends to raise the role of the military forces and
to diminish by comparison the power of the Party. While no in-
soluble problems arose in this respect in the last war, these con-
siderations have to be taken into account. The past war showed
that Party doctrines had to give way, at least in part, to national-
ist slogans and other viewpoints of a somewhat disruptive nature.
To be sure, the situation would be different in a war in the near
future, since the Soviets would not be troubled with capitalist
allies and would undoubtedly pose as the victim of imperialist
attack. Nevertheless, to win internal support unwanted conces-
sions might have to be made.

An acceptable modification of the argument that the authori-
tarian nature of the present Soviet regime is a source of an aggres-
sive and expansionist foreign policy may be found along the
following lines. It is probable that a certain amount of hostility
toward the outside world is an essential ingredient in the power
of the present rulers of Russia. Without the real or imagined
threat of potential attack, it would be much more difficult to
drive the Russian masses through one set of Five Year Plans after
another. Yet it does not seem likely that this hostility is in turn
a force that reacts back on the makers of Russian foreign policy.
Their power can be more easily maximized by the threat of war
than by war itself— a precarious enough situation. Nor is there
evidence that mass hostility is in any way cumulative or sufficient
to force the Soviet leaders into an aggressive policy. There are a
number of devices for draining off internally generated hostility
into channels other than those of external expansion. Military and
combative sentiments, aroused for specific purposes, can be and
have been directed into the socially productive channels of pro-
moting a conquest of the physical environment.

There are good grounds for concurring in the conclusion that
a drive for power in Stalin's personal make-up has been and
will remain a very significant element in Soviet policy as long as
his leadership is maintained, Although biographical data on Stalin

398 Todays Dilemma

are scanty, it is probable that conclusions concerning this trait
will stand the test of further impartial investigation. The way,
however, in which this trait displays itself has important implica-
tions. It is difficult to accuse Stalin of being rash or foolhardy.
One has but to contrast the bombastic speeches and writings of
Hitler with the cold pedantic logic of Stalin, illuminated by .rare
flashes of heavy sarcasm, to get important clues to the differences
in their personalities, Stalin has nearly always managed to keep
his aggressive impulses and his drive for power under rigid
control, for which he has been well rewarded in the defeat of his
domestic and foreign enemies. He has arrived at his most im-
portant decisions cautiously and empirically, testing the political
ground at each step of the way. The major decisions of collectivi-
zation and industrialization were reached only after numerous
tentative trials, Once decisions have been reached by Stalin, he
has not failed to display sufficient energy to carry them through.
And like Lenin, though in a lesser degree, he has shown the
ability to back out of an impossible situation without serious
damage to his forces. Thus it is unlikely that Stalin would plunge
the Soviet Union into war when the chances of victory were
highly problematical.

Those who emphasize the continuity of the Russian historical
tradition and the importance of Russia's geographical position in
the determination of Soviet foreign policy are correct insofar as
Russia's place on the globe and her past relations with her neigh-
bors set certain limitations and provide certain readily definable
opportunities for Russian foreign policy. In other words, an ex-
pansionist Soviet foreign policy can follow only certain well-
defined lines of attack. It may have Persia, China, or Germany as
its major object of infiltration, but Latin America and the Ant-
arctic are much more remote objectives.

The reappearance of old-fashioned Russian territorial interests
in various parts of the globe has been associated with the revival
of Russian strength from the low ebb of revolution, intervention,
and civil war. It may be suspected that the early idealist state-
ments of the Bolshevik leaders about the abandonment of Tsarist
imperialism were inspired not only by Marxist doctrine but were

Ideology and Foreign Policy 399

also made on the grounds that they were the only possible tactics
to follow in Russia's weak condition. Now that the proletarian
revolution has a territorial base, it is understandable that attempts
should be made to combine the interests of the two, and that some
of the results should show marked similarities to Tsarist policy.
Furthermore, the possibility may readily be granted that the
present rulers of Russia are somewhat influenced by the model of
Tsarist diplomacy. But the driving forces behind any contem-
porary Soviet expansionism must be found in a contemporary
social situation. Historical and geographical factors may limit the
expression of an expansionist drive. They cannot be expansionist
forces in their own right.

Turning to the ideological factor, it has already been noted
that the Messianic energies of Communism can be, and at times
in the past have been, very largely directed toward tasks of in-
ternal construction. The "creative myth of Leninism," to use
S Orel's suggestive term, involves the building of factories in desert
wastes and the creation of a more abundant life for the inhab-
itants of the Soviet Union. One must agree, however, that a
creative myth, if it is effective, is usually an article for export as
well as for domestic consumption. Those who really believe in
socialism usually believe it is necessary for the world as a whole,
just as do the more emotional believers in the virtues of democracy
and the four freedoms. There remains, however, another im-
portant aspect of Soviet doctrine, which sets at least temporary
limits to its expansionist qualities. It is a cardinal point in the
Leninist-Stalinist doctrine that a retreat made in good order is
not a disgrace. The Soviet creative myth does not have a "victory
or death" quality—there is no urge to seek a final dramatic show-
down and a Gotferdammerung finale. When faced with superior
strength, the Soviets have on numerous occasions shown the
ability to withdraw with their forces intact. Although the with-
drawal may be followed by a renewal of pressures elsewhere, it
may be repeated once more if superior forces are again brought
to bear.

The foregoing considerations are enough to suggest the com-
plexity of the problem of interpreting the expansionist forces

400 Today's Dilemma

contained in the Soviet system. They should make us wary of
dramatically pessimistic conclusions to the effect that the Soviet
leaders, propelled by forces beyond their control, are marching
to a world holocaust. But they give many more grounds for
pessimism than for optimism concerning the probability of pre-
venting a further increase in tension in the power relationships of
Moscow and Washington. Even though Soviet expansionism of
the past decade may be explained as primarily an adaptation to
the changing balance of power, such an explanation by no means
precludes the possibility, perhaps even the probability, that the
series of adaptations and "defensive'* measures taken by the
United States and the USSR may culminate in war.

The situation in which the two major powers stand at uneasy
guard, carefully watching each other's activities and countering
one another's strengthenings in all portions of the globe, contains
internal forces of its own that could lead to a violent explosion.
That it has not done so already is an indication that both sides
are still making their political calculations largely in defensive
terms, inasmuch as neither antagonist is committed by its own
system of values to war for war's sake.

The resurgence of another major power, such as Germany
or Japan, that constituted a threat to both the United States and
the Soviet Union could bring about a drastic alteration in this
situation. There is nothing in recent Russian actions to indicate
that the Soviet Union would be unwilling to seek once more a
common alliance with the West to ward off threatened danger.
But the present polarization of power itself makes any such
alliance an improbable eventuality. The struggle between Wash-
ington and Moscow has as one of its consequences the partition
of Germany and American control of Japan. So long as this strug-
gle continues, it is not unlikely that either Germany or Japan
can regain the semblance of an independent foreign policy. Nor is
it likely, so long as modern warfare requires a powerful industrial
base, that some other state will emerge in the near future to
challenge the two giants of today. Should there be indications
that some weak state might be developing a technology with
which it would be possible to become a power in its own right,

Ideology and Foreign Policy 401

steps would probably be taken at once to gain control of this
new resource by one or both of the existing great powers. In this
manner the existing balance of power tends to inhibit any change
in its structure or destructive potentialities.

If the prospects of fundamental improvement in American-
Russian relations are dim indeed, they are not necessarily hope-
less. One of the few warrants for hope is the Communist tradi-
tion that retreat from a situation that threatens the power of
the leaders is no defeat. If, as seems most likely, neither side is
yet actively seeking war, there is still room for the reduction of
tension through the familiar devices of highly skilled diplomacy.
To succeed, this diplomacy would have to part company with
the parochial moralism that has characterized much American
negotiation and free itself from the miasma of dogmatic suspicion
likely to become chronic on the Russian side. Whether modern
diplomats can escape from the pressures engendered by their
own societies remains to be seen.

18

Conclusions and Implications

Major features of ideological and social change in the USSR

Our original task, in its simplest form, was to discover which
prerevolutionary Bolshevik ideas have been put into effect in the
Soviet Union, which have been modified or abandoned, and for
what reasons. The answers to these questions, tentative though
they may be, have certain implications concerning the limits
and possibilities of directed social change in modern industrial
society, and concerning the general relationship between chang-
ing belief systems and changing social institutions.

The idea that inequalities of authority are necessary in human
society, that is, that some must command and others must obey,
received very little recognition in the prerevolutionary Bolshevik
ideology of ends. When Bolshevik theory began to show signs
of developing beyond the goals of a bourgeois democratic repub-
lic, the new goals emphasized the sharing of the masses in the
power of the state. The dictatorship of the proletariat was con-
ceived of as a dictatorship of the many over the few. Through the
device of the Soviets the many would be able to share in this tran-
sitory phase, which would be far more representative of the will
of the masses than any regime previously known by man.

On the other band, the Bolshevik ideology of means laid
heavy stress upon the need for authority and discipline. Lenin
wanted the Party, which was to be the instrument of the libera-
tion of Russia and eventually of the human race, to be a strictly
centralized, highly disciplined organization, responding to the
orders of its leaders like a well-trained orchestra to a wave of
the conductor's baton. In the prerevolutionary period this disci-
pline was very much weaker than it became later.

Conclusions 403

With the assumption of political responsibility in 1917, the
Bolshevik ideology of means played a greater role in the deter-
mination of behavior than the ideology of ends. Partly because
of the series of crisis situations faced by the regime, the original
ideas concerning the need for discipline and authority continued
to come to the fore and to serve as a justification for the estab-
lishment of sharp inequalities of power. After Lenin's death, and
after severe internecine struggles, his goals of discipline and
hierarchical subordination have come close to their realization.
The means have been largely realized, but the end of control by
the masses over their political and economic destiny seems about
as far away as ever.

In this process the original anti-authoritarian ideas, and the
practices that flowed from them, have undergone a sea-change,
with the result that they now serve as justifications and additional
supports for an authoritarian regime. The safeguards of demo-
cratic centralism and self-criticism have been modified in such
a way that they do not act as a check upon the power of the top
Party leaders. Instead, they serve as devices to strengthen this
power by directing the hostility of the masses against local nodules
of power in the lower levels of the bureaucratic system, which
would otherwise nullify the policies and decisions taken by the
central authorities. Criticism is deflected away from policy itself
to the execution of policy. Elections serve either to correct weak-
nesses in the execution of policy or, perhaps more frequently,
as public demonstrations and directed affirmations of loyalty to
the leaders.

The result which has emerged is a curious amalgam of police
terror and primitive "grass-roots" democracy. The coexistence of
these two elements no doubt leads to occasional soul-searchings
in high quarters that may play a role in the repetitive cycles of
increasing bureaucratic and authoritarian rigidity followed by
vigorous campaigns of "re-democratization," which form a con-
tinuing feature of Soviet political life. These cycles may also, as
we have seen, be explained on more general sociological grounds.
The present political and economic system requires for its suc-
cessful operation strong central control and the issuing of orders

404 Todays Dilemma

from above, which in turn results in a loss of enthusiasm and
initiative at the lowest levels of the bureaucracy and among the
population at large. This loss of initiative and enthusiasm then
tends to encourage various breakdowns in the system, which the
leaders try to correct by the restoration of democracy in the
Party, the Soviets, the trade unions, the collective farms, and
elsewhere. Re-democratization cannot be carried too far, how-
ever, for fear of undermining the central controls. Likewise,
motives of self-preservation among those responsible for the
bureaucratic and police controls probably prevent too great a
swing in an anti-authoritarian direction. One reason why the
system does not break down is that the democratic elements in
both ideology and practice have acquired the doubly useful
function of furnishing support for the authority of the top leaders
and checking the recurrent growth of elements hostile to these
leaders.

The ideal of equality of rewards, as distinguished from equal-
ity of authority, played a significant role in prerevolutionary
Bolshevik thinking, even though Marx himself had considered
such a goal impractical. For some years after the establishment
of the Bolshevik regime, pressures continued in the direction of
putting this ideal into practice, although most of the force of
the pressures was spent before 1921. Coincident with the efforts
to build an industrial society and to establish a new social organi-
zation in the countryside, the ideal of equality of rewards was
specifically and openly repudiated. A system of incentives, closely
related to output, has gradually evolved for industrial workers
and farmers. By a system of bonuses, a similar device was applied
to managerial personnel in industry.1 The claim of consistency
was not altogether violated, since the repudiation took the form
of a denial that the goal of equality of rewards had ever formed
a part of Marxist doctrine.

In the area of relations with other states, the Bolsheviks came
to power with an interpretation of their own concerning the
forces behind international relations, summed up in Lenin's
theory of imperialism. Though the new Soviet state was forced
to abandon, at least temporarily, its highest hopes at Brest-

Conclusions 405

Litovsk, revolutionary ideas continued to play an influential role
in subsequent Soviet policy. The instrument of the Communist
International was created and various attempts made to achieve
the goal of proletarian revolution. The failure of these attempts
forced the Soviets to fall back increasingly upon more traditional
balance-of-power techniques. However, since the proletarian revo-
lution had obtained a territorial base, these traditional techniques,
such as alliances with one set of capitalist powers against another,
could be rationalized as efforts to strengthen the heartland of the
revolution. But the new doctrine, first expounded by Lenin at
Brest-Litovsk, was not entirely a rationalization devoid of in-
fluence upon the actions of the new rulers of Russia. Soviet policy
during and after the Second World War has shown several indi-
cations of attempts to utilize the new power base and its instru-
ments, the Red Army and the secret police, for the expansion of
the Soviet system.

On the whole, however, Soviet policy has been characterized
by a series of adjustments to the existing structure of interna-
tional relationships, which the USSR has been unable to over-
throw and replace by a new world community of toilers' states.
These accommodations to changes in the international distribu-
tion of political power have on several occasions been markedly
influenced by the Marxist-Leninist viewpoint and interpretation
of political affairs in foreign countries. While the original goals
are no longer openly proclaimed, they may remain latent in-
fluences in Soviet policy that could recur in a modified form under
favorable conditions.

Implications for modern industrial society

The successes and failures of Leninist doctrine, and the modi-
fications that have been made in this doctrine, contain a number
of implications for the nature of modern industrial society. This
study has refrained from the outset from any analysis of the
political and social "realities" faced by the Bolsheviks, but in
concluding it seems permissible to draw attention to the way
in which Bolshevik doctrine was reformulated in adaptation to
problems that are common to any industrial society. On the basis

406 Todays Dilemma

of the Bolshevik experience, it may be suggested that certain
features of modern industrial society are inherent aspects that
cannot be eliminated without the destruction of the entire system,
while other features can be more readily altered or even omitted.
In this respect the word "utopian" can perhaps be given some
objective meaning and cease to be merely a partisan epithet.

One difficulty in such an analysis is that the failures and suc-
cesses of Bolshevism were due not only to the inherent require-
ments of constructing a modern industrial society, but also to the
peculiar problems that derived from Russia's past. This difficulty
is part of the more general one produced by the impossibility of
utilizing experimental methods in many areas of inquiry into
human affairs. Nevertheless, it is possible to make crude state-
ments concerning the relationships of various social phenomena.

The Bolshevik experience, it is suggested, reveals the need for
inequalities of power in an industrial society. At the same time, it
reveals the needs for a functional division of labor and for in-
equality of rewards. All of these requirements add up to the
necessity of a system of organized social inequality.

If this conclusion is correct, one may infer legitimately enough
that widespread demands for social equality are in a broad sense
Utopian. In this respect, familiar conservative pleas against moving
in this direction may be regarded as being based in part on social
necessities, Yet this argument can by no logical means be twisted
into a justification for any particular system of inequality as it
exists in any particular society at the present time. It certainly
will not serve to justify in scientific terms the inequalities of
wealth and property in capitalist society (though these might be
justified, of course, on other scientific grounds), since Soviet
society shows clearly that an industrial order can function with-
out them.

Whether the existence of social classes, or what may be more
broadly defined as inequalities of opportunity, can be inferred as
a social necessity on the basis of Soviet experience is more diffi-
cult to decide. With the disappearance of extreme equalitarian-
ism, the ideal concerning rewards has been that the latter should
be distributed on the basis of merit alone. Such an ideal has

Conclusions 407

also been extremely influential in Western capitalism and par-
ticularly in the United States. In the Soviet Union, however, the
concept of merit has, from the beginning, included political
loyalty to the Bolshevik leadership. This requirement has ex-
cluded considerable sectors of the population at all times, and
still excludes in effect the inhabitants of the concentration camps,
although these men and women theoretically have the opportunity
to rehabilitate themselves. The inhabitants of concentration camps
seem to form an inevitable bottom stratum in twentieth-century
authoritarian societies.

At the other end of the scale, high officials transmit to their
children a number of tangible and intangible advantages: superior
education, nutrition, clothing, and above all acquaintance in the
circles that hold power. It is difficult to see how the transmission
of these advantages can be avoided without destroying the family
as a primary social unit, which the Soviets, for other reasons, have
long since decided they could not do. Nevertheless, the near
absence of any opportunity to obtain and transmit a claim on the
output of a large sector of the economy, comparable to the in-
dustrial dynasties perpetuated by trust funds under capitalism
or the landed properties of feudalism, indicates that the trans-
mission of certain economic advantages will probably remain
much less secure in the USSR.

To determine whether the absence of hereditary fortunes plus
the existence of concentration camps means greater or fewer In-
equalities of opportunities than the reverse situation (as, for
example, in the United States) is a question that cannot be
answered at present. A tentative conclusion, however, is that
through the device of the bureaucratic and authoritarian state
men may be able to diminish the inequalities of opportunity
characteristic of other societies and ages. At the same time, there
does not seem to be any possibility of eliminating them alto-
gether. Furthermore, it seems that a successful authoritarian state
in modern times may produce a new type of stratification, derived
in part from the transmission of certain advantages referred to
above and from the system of political differentiation as a basis
for status.

408 Todays Dilemma

It may also be inferred, on the basis of the Soviet experience,
that some variety of competitive stimulus is a necessary ingredient
in a modern industrial society. The transfer of the means of pro-
duction to the state has, in the Soviet case at least, failed to
eliminate the need for this stimulus, which the Bolsheviks have
applied in a number of ingenious ways to industrial workers,
managers, and fanners. It is worth noting that, for this stimulus
to be effective, there must also be opportunities to rise for at
least a short distance in the economic hierarchy. If keeping up
with the Joneses is to be an effective motivation, there must be
the opportunity to overtake and surpass the Joneses.

Likewise, the Soviets have not been able to do away with
certain other conceptions of the dismal science of economics, such
as that the costs of production have to be met out of receipts, that
capital investment means the postponement of present satisfac-
tions, and that there are efficient and inefficient ways of combin-
ing labor and capital to turn out finished products.

In the international sphere, the record of Soviet relations with
the rest of the world indicates that the Russians have been com-
pelled to adapt themselves to the pattern of world politics pre-
vailing in the twentieth century, many of whose features have
existed in other times and places. While adding some new twists
of their own, the Communist rulers of Russia have depended to a
great extent on techniques that owe more to Bismarck, Machia-
velli, and even Aristotle than they do to ICarl Marx or Lenin.
This pattern of world politics has been widely recognized as a
system of inherently unstable equilibrium, described in the con-
cept of the balance of power. Its chief behavioral principles are
that one should oppose the strongest power, or the power that in
growing stronger threatens one's own security, and that in so
doing one should seek allies where they can be found, independ-
ently of cultural and ideological affinities. The Soviets have be-
haved as if this were their maxim, though not as if it were their
exclusive maxim, with only highly infrequent overt statements to
this effect. The same has been true of the behavior of the other
great powers. It seems very likely, therefore, that the structure
of world politics imposes a certain form of behavior on states

Conclusions 409

that is independent of the social and economic structure of these
states.

If this conclusion is correct, or even approaches the truth,
there is a strong need to relate the study of the structure of
international relationships to the study of domestic determinants
of behavior on the international scene. In recent years there has
been a large amount of research directed toward showing that the
behavior of various states in international affairs is primarily de-
termined by specific peculiarities in the society of these states,
particularly by the type of personality produced through child-
rearing techniques, and similar factors. This approach is a sophis-
ticated revival of the idea of national character. It is not alto-
gether dissimilar to the Marxist analysis, which seeks the springs
of international behavior in the clash of class and group interests
within each society, though the two schools have differing em-
phases on causal factors and widely differing remedies for the ills
they profess to see in modern society. The weakness of these two
approaches is that they take but little cognizance of the structure
of the international arena in which the clash of national interests
takes place. The difficulty is the same as that which beset psy-
chology when it tried to explain human behavior by studying the
individual in vacuo, without perceiving the society in which the
individual lived. For certain purposes it is of course legitimate
and desirable to study as independent entities either the balance
of power or the domestic determinants of political behavior in a
particular state, But to understand international politics, an ap-
proach is necessary that will combine the two areas of inquiry
and assign a correct weight to the conclusions drawn from each
of them.

In closing this portion of the discussion, we may point to the
apparent necessity that any set of beliefs be at least in part above
and beyond rational criticism if the society is to avoid disintegra-
tion. Sumner used the term "pathos" in this somewhat unusual
sense to describe the way in which a protective barrier was set
up to fend off criticism from symbols and ideas to which social
allegiance was deemed important.2 Without some degree of pathos
and unquestioning belief, the social relationship of leader and

410 Todays Dilemma

follower would be most difficult to maintain. And without these
relationships, which are found in even the simplest equalitarian
and preliterate societies, society as a whole cannot function. A
purely atomistic society, composed of rational, calculating beings,
whose only connections with one another are based upon en-
lightened self-interest— a type posited by classical economic
theory— never has existed and probably never will.8

Although Marxism makes the claim, especially in its Commu-
nist version, that it represents a set of scientific beliefs that can
be modified by scientific evidence, it is unlikely that it could have
become the ideology of any important ruling group if such were
actually the case. Even among scientists an attitude of suspended
judgment, finely shaded degrees of doubt and acceptance, ready
to be modified or abandoned in the face of new evidence, is
largely a myth. It cannot form the bond that holds a political
unit together. The revisions that have been made in Marxist
theory by the Communists have been political readjustments in
adaptation to the requirements of political survival and then
dressed in the language of science.

Up to this point in this analysis, it has been noted that the
Soviets have been forced to take over and modify for their own
purposes certain beliefs and behavior patterns that had already
become familiar features of industrial society elsewhere. A system
of organized social inequality, the use of the competitive stimulus
and other weapons from the capitalist arsenal, and an adherence
to the prevailing pattern of international world politics might be
postulated as basic requirements for the survival of an industrial
society.

On the other hand, it is quite clear from the Soviet experience
that an industrial society can function without private property
in the means of production. A certain doctrinaire blindness in the
West for a long time inhibited the development of awareness to
this fact, just as doctrinaire blindness in the USSR inhibited for
a time the growth of any awareness of the necessities outlined in
the preceding paragraph.

The transfer of the means of production to the community as
a whole represents the closest congruence between prerevolu-

Conclusions 411

tionary anticipations and post-revolutionary facts of any aspect of
Bolshevik doctrine and behavior. The implications of this achieve-
ment are not all that the Bolsheviks hoped for. While it is claimed
that the transfer of the means of production to the state has
ended the exploitation of man by man, such a claim cannot be
measured by objective criteria. Exploitation is a term used accord-
ing to slippery subjective standards which cannot be brought out
into the open. But no matter how severely the present regime may
treat its labor force, its existence and survival in war reveals that
it is a viable social system. Whether it is productive of happiness
is a much more difficult question to answer, although it is the
question most amateurs on both sides of the Iron Curtain are
readiest to answer. The answer to this question is, incidentally,
far from the most important factor determining the development
and outcome of competing social systems. The most viable social
system in a world of competing national states is not necessarily
the one that provides the greatest amount of happiness to its con-
stituent members.

The fact that the Soviet Union has been able to dispense with
private property in the means of production indicates that there
is some variety possible in the ways in which a modern industrial
society can meet the familiar needs of self -maintenance. In the
same way, the fact that other countries have been able to in-
dustrialize without resort to a totalitarian political system illus-
trates the variety of roads that lead to approximately similar
goals. While recognizing that the variety exists, it is equally neces-
sary to recognize that limitations also exist. Under the influence
of anthropological discoveries, there has been in the recent past
somewhat of an overemphasis upon the plasticity of human nature
and the freedom of choice supposedly open to any society in the
development of its own institutions. Once the major goals are
chosen, there seems to be only a limited number of ways by which
these goals can be reached.

For example, it is at least conceivable that certain of the
equalitarian goals, particularly those relating to equality of re-
wards, might have been brought closer to achievement if the
Communists had been willing to forego the goal of industrializa-

412 Todays Dilemma

tion. Likewise, more political power could perhaps have been
left in the hands of the masses if the Bolshevik rulers had been
willing to postpone or discard the general goals of the Stalinist
Revolution.

Furthermore, it can hardly be maintained that the choice of
goals and values is a free and open one in any society. It is doubt-
ful that any serious student of human affairs would today hold
to the extreme rationalist position that a group of men can sit
down and determine whether it will establish a democratic or
some other form of society. Organized human beings do not
present a tabula rasa upon which one can work one's will in any
fashion whatsoever. To this extent it is possible to agree with
Summer's position. The goals of society, and of groups within
society, are in a sense given— determined by tradition, by past
historical circumstances, by the requirements of organized life in
society and group survival, and a host of other factors. Some of
these conditions can be directly modified by deliberate rational
actions, but others are highly resistant to any form of interference.

In a sense these remarks go to the heart of the problem posed
in this book. If the goals of a social group are given, is not ide-
ology ipso facto determined by other social factors and hence
a purely superficial phenomenon that plays no role itself in social
causation? I do not see the problem in this fashion. Once an
ideology has been determined, it enters in as a determining factor
in its own right in subsequent social situations. It has an effect,
sometimes slight, sometimes considerable, on the decisions taken
by those who hold it. In its turn, it is modified, sometimes slightly
and sometimes considerably, by the impact of subsequent con-
siderations.

Are there limits to ideological change?

Are there limitations, however, to the permutations and modi-
fications that any given system of goals, beliefs, and interpreta-
tions of the external world may undergo? Does a given Weltan-
schauung commit its holders, within broad limits of course, to a
distinctive and recognizable type of behavior? Is there a point be-
yond which modifications and ^interpretations cannot go, when

Conclusions 413

the entire system of beliefs and perhaps a whole section of society
suffers disintegration rather than undertake a further modification
of its belief system?

Intellectual historians have often tended to give positive an-
swers to these questions, perhaps without always being aware
that they had raised them. They stress the continuity of intel-
lectual traditions, seeing in Franklin D. Roosevelt the logical
culmination" of Jeffersonian ideas, and in Adolf Hitler the "logical
culmination" of earlier authoritarian currents in German thought.
We are not concerned, of course, with the merit of these specific
conclusions, but with the general approach to such problems that
such conclusions exemplify.

Perhaps in a rather gross sense these contentions are correct.
It is difficult to see how a firm belief in the divine right of kings
could be reconciled with an equally firm belief in the principle of
vox populi, vox del, although the English have managed to com-
bine elements of both in their political and social system, perhaps
because they refused to have any firm beliefs in first principles.

It may well be that some types of ideological traditions do
exclude certain viewpoints. If such is the case, the exclusion
would take place on grounds that extend beyond the realm of
formal logic. Political ideologies are seldom if ever stated in such
a form that they can be subjected to rigorous logical manipula-
tion. Nevertheless, they may make easy the acceptance of one set
of conclusions and render difficult the acceptance of an opposite
set. For example, the acceptance of Leninist doctrine does not
exclude the potential conclusion that capitalism and socialism can
exist on the same planet for an unspecified period of time. Yet it
does place some barriers in the way of accepting such a conclu-
sion. On the other hand, the acceptance of Euclidean postulates
completely excludes the possibility of concluding that the hy-
potenuse is the shortest side of a right-angle triangle. Though the
difference in the flexibility of the two systems of ideas just cited
is one of degree rather than an absolute and qualitative distinc-
tion, it is nevertheless a clear difference.

Among the causes for a certain lack of flexibility in ideological
systems is the tendency of various groups within a political organ-

414 Today's Dilemma

ization to develop strong emotional attachments to a system of
doctrine. This group of emotional adherents, the doctrinaires, has
to be controlled, and at times even eliminated, if a political organ-
ization is to retain sufficient flexibility to maneuver successfully in
the struggle to obtain and retain power. The problem of con-
trolling the doctrinaires has been a recurrent one in the Soviet
Union down to the most recent times. Lenin faced it even before
the seizure of power, as shown in several prerevolutionary contro-
versies. It became acute again with each major change of policy
after the November Revolution: the adoption of the Brest-Litovsk
Treaty, the change from War Communism to the NEP, and the
shift from the NEP to the Stalinist Revolution. After the Second
World War the problem recurred in a different form. At that
time it was reflected in the struggle to reimpose an orthodoxy
that had been ever so slightly set aside in the course of the war
with the Axis. It is perhaps significant that the postwar battle
for the restoration of orthodoxy was not accompanied by the
blood bath that followed the Stalinist Revolution. Altogether,
these facts reflect the existence of strong and continuing pressures
to adhere as closely as possible to the original sources of the
doctrine.

Examining the problem of the elasticity of ideologies from
another viewpoint, one finds frequently in historical and literary
accounts the statement that a particular doctrine has 'lost its
vitality" or begun to suffer from old age. When the biological
metaphor is dropped, such statements usually mean that a certain
doctrine is no longer useful in explaining or justifying a new and
different social situation. The failure of symbols to serve a new
social situation may come about for a number of reasons. Perhaps
certain social groups do not wish the symbols to be reinterpreted
and are strong enough to prevent readjustment. This appears to
have been the case in Tsarist Russia, where the arch-conservatives
were at least strong enough to slow up the transition of Russia
from an autocratic state to a constitutional monarchy. In other
cases, the failure of readjustment may take place because no group
of persons has the ability or the motivation to readapt the sym-
bols to a new situation. In still other instances, it may perhaps be

Conclusions 415

that the symbols themselves are incapable of readaptation. It
seems that the anthropologist, A. L. Kroeber, has this phenomenon
in mind when he speaks of the "exhaustion" of a cultural pattern.
There comes a time when all possible solutions to a problem
within the framework of a given cultural pattern seem to have
been tried out, and further innovations have to come from within
an entirely new variety of approach.4

Students of language have pointed out how the structure of a
language may make it difficult to understand— that is, to make the
desired responses to— concepts that have originated in another
language and culture.5 To realize these difficulties, one has only
to think of the obstacles involved in undertaking a problem in
long division with the use of Roman numerals alone. On these
grounds, it is at least a reasonable hypothesis that a set of ideas,
or a system of political notation, such as Marxism-Leninism,
would make certain types of political responses difficult, or per-
haps even impossible, whereas it would make others relatively
easy. Although the limits of a system of political notation are
probably not as definite as those in the linguistic and mathemati-
cal symbol systems, it seems a very probable inference that such
limits do exist.

Since we cannot isolate with laboratory techniques the vari-
ables in the study of a social movement, it is impossible to point
to unarguable cases in which ideology has limited or inhibited
the political responses of the Bolsheviks to a given situation. But
one can indicate the difficulties that have occurred on numerous
occasions when the Bolsheviks have felt themselves forced to act
in contradiction to their previous doctrinal statements. Likewise,
one can refer to the various returns to policies arising from orig-
inal doctrine and suggest that more than mere expediency was
involved in these returns. In particular, the Stalinist return to a
modified form of Leninism, which resolved the social tensions
created by the policies of the NEP, goes quite contrary to a policy
of mere ideological adjustments to the circumstances that existed
at that time.e Furthermore, the failure of the Chinese revolution
of the twenties seems to have come about in part from an in-
ability to break with familiar stereotypes and to develop a fresh

416 Todays Dilemma

approach to an admittedly difficult situation. Perhaps the Tito
incident may also reflect a similar doctrinal sterility.

On the whole, one is likely to be more impressed with the
flexibility of Communist doctrine than with its rigidity. Its elas-
ticity has proved its value in the ideology of that strange alloy of
authoritarian and populist practices, the Soviet Union itself, as
well as in its adaptive forms in the Soviet satellite states and, at
the hands of other than Stalin, in agrarian China. With certain
shifts of emphasis, Communist doctrine would be congruent with
the institutions and practices of Western democracy, as the Stalin
Constitution of 1936 reveals. The undoubted fact that Commu-
nism does not mean exactly the same thing in each of the Com-
munist areas illustrates its flexibility as a system of symbols. (The
same generalization may, of course, be made to apply to the
flexibility of Western democratic doctrines. )

Within the Communist system of symbols, as in others, resili-
ence and the opportunity for perpetuation come from the fact that
it is often possible to make far-reaching social changes with only
a minimum reinterpretation of the doctrine. The way in which the
populist and democratic aspects of the original Leninist theory
have been reinterpreted and reutilized to support the power of
central Party leadership is a case in point As a rule, it is easier
to bring about a fundamental alteration of any social system
within the framework of the symbols than in opposition to them.
It is a commonplace observation that many religious revolutions
take place under the flag of orthodoxy. Lenin's interpretation of
Marx and Stalin's interpretation of Lenin both lay claim to ortho-
doxy in the strongest possible fashion.

Flexibility and resilience also come about from the mechanics
of doctrinal transmission. No system of ideas is ever transmitted
in exactly the same form from one person to another, as many a
teacher has observed to his chagrin. Errors and inaccuracies al-
ways arise. Sometimes the errors are deliberately introduced by
one of the transmitters, as has been the case in the transmission
of much Party history and doctrine in the Soviet Union. At other
times they are unconscious distortions by the receiver. In both
cases the adaptations usually take the form of serving new wine
in old bottles.

Conclusions 417

As Pareto has shown in abundance, it is possible for organ-
ized social groups to profess, and even to hold to, a wide variety
of contradictory beliefs. When political circumstances require
the incorporation of new and contradictory ideas into a reigning
ideology, some intellectuals can usually be found to perform the
task in a passable fashion. The task is made easier when the
reigning system of ideas receives emotional allegiance and is on
this account felt to be beyond rational criticism. It may also be
made easier by the fact that different sets of ideas tend to be
held at different levels of overt awareness.

To an outsider there seems to be a contradiction in Marxism-
Leninism between the belief in a special variety of historical de-
terminism and an equally strong belief in the necessity for vigor-
ous action to bring about the inevitable. Psychologically, these
ideas probably tend to reinforce one another, rather than to
arouse skepticism and similar difficulties. Greater, but not in-
superable, difficulties occur when ideas are taken over in order
to appeal to wavering or hostile groups in the population: wit-
ness the fact that during the war the banner of die hammer and
sickle could incorporate Russian nationalist symbols and even
some of those of the orthodox church.

In earlier irreverent days, when Leninism had already re-
ceived a number of opportunist accretions, it was once said to
be "like Uncle Sasha's store— you can get everything you want
there." This impatient remark is, however, somewhat of an exag-
geration. In Communist doctrine, accretions in the form of con-
cessions to various interest groups have a way of disappearing
when there is no longer a need to conciliate these groups. Ideo-
logical and practical concessions made to the peasantry in 1921
and subsequent years were withdrawn in the collectivization
campaigns, and, following the war, various writers and intellec-
tuals were reprimanded for "bourgeois nationalist deviations."
One may observe the tendency to revert to a common doctrinal
core, which undergoes slower modifications than the shifting
"Party line."

In recent years experimental psychology has uncovered a
number of the mechanisms that explain both the retention of cer-
tain symbolic formulations and their occasional abandonment.

418 Today's Dilemma

Studies of perception in human beings have shown a tendency
to exclude what is inimical or irrelevant; the person sees what he
wants or expects to see. These expectations are in part deter-
mined by past experience. This is true so long as the situation is
not too threatening or too exacting. But in threatening situations
the perceptive response takes a more vigorous account of reality;
the human organism, again in a selective fashion, will become
aware of aspects of the environment that represent danger.7
This helps to explain tie way in which certain Soviet doctrines
have been thrown overboard in times of acute danger (the
Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, the NEP, the Nazi-Soviet Pact), as well
as Soviet attempts to meet new situations in terms of familiar
stereotypes.

Information of this type provides a valuable underpinning be-
cause it shows how certain types of reaction are possible, but it
does not relieve the student who operates at the more general
level o£ the study of group behavior from explaining matters in
his own terms. It is necessary, therefore, to turn to a survey of
the possible forms an ideology may take in response to circum-
stances, or what might be considered the natural history of a
doctrine of protest.

The natural history of a successful protest movement

The tendency of protest movements to develop different types
of doctrines within their own ranks at various stages of their
growth has an important bearing on the more general questions
of the nature of ideological and social change. On the basis of
the Bolshevik experience, it is possible to draw up a schematic
series of stages of ideological and institutional growth. The sche-
matic nature of the following sketch should be understood clearly.
Its purpose, as suggested by Max Weber, is merely to draw at-
tention to potentially significant relationships that are not limited
to a series of historically unique events. While parallels with the
development of Christianity and other religious protest move-
ments may occur to the reader, it should be clear that any
scheme of this type is a theoretical construct which may not
correspond exactly with empirical historical realities at any one

Conclusions 419

point. Its utility is merely to draw attention to potentially im-
portant matters that might otherwise escape beneath a welter of
historical detail.

A new ideology is likely to be formed or, perhaps more fre-
quently, to be borrowed from external sources, as was the case
with Russian Marxism, in a period of rapid institutional change.
Under conditions of rapid social change the relationship of the
various parts of society to one another, often precarious in any
case, tends to break down. In the case of Russia during the nine-
teenth century, tremors were sent out from the economic field
into the areas of politics, law, religion, and family relationships,
though there is no reason to assume, as Marx did, that the trem-
ors always begin in the economic institutions of society. With
this partial disintegration of the social fabric, new frustrations
are felt that are not readily accepted, and old ones are felt more
keenly. New ideas arise concerning the legitimate level of ex-
pectations among various sections of the population. There is,
one might say, a new cultural definition of wants in different
parts of the society. In Russia the urban middle classes, the
peasants, and the industrial workers all showed signs of wanting
to improve their political and economic position, while the
landed nobility at the same time tried to prevent this, or even
to strengthen their own position. Under such conditions there
tends to arise in a number of different groups some kind of analy-
sis of what the source of the trouble is, some notion of what to
do about the situation, and some organized effort to bring about
a change in the desired direction. Both "reactionary" and "rad-
ical" groups are apt to coalesce into formal organizations in pro-
test against the existing situation. It is at this point, especially
before the development of formal organizations has proceeded
very far, that the level of sincere belief in an ideology is likely
to be close to its highest level.

As the organization develops, and as leaders emerge, a process
of differentiation begins to take place in the ideology. If the
group is to win power and influence, if it is going to accomplish
anything, it must take power factors into account. The dilemma
between means and ends raises its head. The ways chosen to

420 Todays Dilemma

achieve power may contradict the ultimate goals that the or-
ganization wishes to achieve. In the case of the Bolshevik move-
ment this dilemma was especially acute. Some persons are in-
clined to lay heavy emphasis on the means to power, while others
continue to stress the ultimate goals. At crucial moments before
and after the November Revolution, splits on this point threat-
ened to disintegrate the Bolshevik Party.

By the time a protest group has become well organized it may
contain several ideologies at once. One may distinguish the in-
formal or operating ideology of the leaders, a series of funda-
mental and often unstated assumptions upon which they all more
or less agree. This is likely to represent a compromise between
means and ends or, to put it in another way, between power con-
siderations and original doctrines. In the second place, one may
distinguish the formal or official ideology, which consists of pub-
licly stated or printed programs and pronouncements of goals
and means, phrased in the symbols common to the original doc-
trine or to its officially sanctioned adaptations. In the third place,
there is the wide variety of beliefs, shadings, interpretations, and
even misunderstandings, held by the rank and file of the organiza-
tion. If the protest organization succeeds in obtaining power, the
strains and stresses and forces for both ideological and institu-
tional change are, as we have seen, considerably increased.

The relationship between the official ideology of an organiza-
tion and the operating ideology of its leaders is a complex mat-
ter, and the discussion here will be limited to the considerations
that apply in the Soviet case alone. It is often thought that the
top Soviet leadership is a group of purely cynical manipulators,
and that on this account there is no relationship whatever between
the operating ideology of the top Communist elite and officially
promulgated doctrines. On several grounds it would appear
that this conclusion must be modified in important respects.

The current relationship between the operating ideology and
officially promulgated doctrines in the Soviet system Is in a large
measure governed by the fact that the invention of alternative
solutions to pending problems is almost entirely limited to the
very top of the political pyramid. This leads to a situation in

Conclusions 421

which conflicting opinions on any topic of major national im-
portance are concealed from the general public. The develop-
ment and maturation of a new policy takes place behind closed
doors and appears suddenly when the final decision has been
reached at the highest level. Only occasionally, as in the publica-
tion of confidential diplomatic documents, does the investigator
have the opportunity to observe the process at work directly. It
is this element of secrecy which sometimes gives to Soviet policy
an air of unpredictable and Machiavellian shiftiness. After a
new policy has been decided upon, the Party line is readjusted,
and the propaganda machinery of the state puts all of its re-
sources to work in promulgating the new doctrine. In this man-
ner shifts in the operating ideology of the elite produce changes
sooner or later in the officially promulgated doctrine. The new
program ideology may in some instances contain fairly candid
statements of the reasons for a revision of the Party line. In
other cases, the considerations that motivated the change must
be inferred from the surrounding circumstances.

Cases in which the program ideology corresponds fairly
closely to the operating assumptions of the leaders are likely to
occur when the leaders find it necessary to deal with an im-
portant political problem by efforts to change the official doc-
trine. For example, the official repudiation of former Communist
goals concerning the desirability of equality of rewards was a
practical move designed to increase incentive differentials and
provide motivation for greater economic production. In a situa-
tion of this sort it is safe to assume that there is a fairly close
agreement between a new official or program ideology and the
ideas current in the ruling group that influence the reaching of
decisions.

It is obvious, however, that although the informal ideas of
the leaders and the official doctrines may overlap in part, they
will not always be identical. In still otter situations, such as
Lenin's concessions to the peasantry, the official ideology may
be deliberately and consciously manipulated for purposes of
strengthening the power of the rulers. But even in such cases,
as the career of Bukharin shows, there is a tendency for some

422 Todays Dilemma

of the top leaders to take the official doctrine seriously, or for the
operating ideology and the official doctrine to approach one an-
other.

Cases undoubtedly do occur when the leaders manipulate the
official doctrines without in the least believing them. One in-
stance of this type may be the simultaneous negotiations with
the Anglo-French bloc and the Nazis in 1939, which had very
little to do with the officially proclaimed goal of putting a stop
to war and fascism, Since, as a rule, the goals proclaimed in the
official ideology have received implementation in behavior, it
appears that cynical manipulation of this type is relatively rare
in Soviet behavior so far. With the passage of time it may be-
come more common.

In order to avoid confusion on this point, it should also be
noted that there is nothing un-Leninist in the use of deception
for political purposes. It is perfectly possible for the leaders to
adhere quite strictly in their private beliefs to Leninist doctrines
and to put forth an official ideology that has very little to do
with such doctrines. In fact, this is what many people assume
to be the case, without much factual support for their assump-
tions. On the whole it appears to be the least likely assumption,
since the operating ideology of the leaders is more sensitive to
environmental factors and the influence of success and failure
than is an organized system of overtly expressed doctrine.

After a protest ideology has become established, there are
at least five different fates that may befall the original doctrine
or various portions of it.

The first possibility is that of outright repudiation. Certain
parts of a doctrine may be repudiated if they go counter to other
goals that the carriers of this ideology deem more important.
This question is not one of formal logical consistency, but of
contradictions between the social effects of some portion of the
doctrine—for example, the goal of equality of rewards— and other
goals, such as the maximization of power and the establishment
of a large-scale industrial technology.

Another possibility is the continuation and incorporation of
old symbols that still evoke a favorable emotional response un-

Conclusions 423

der new and very different social conditions. The incorporation
of the anti-authoritarian and populist symbols of early Leninist
theory into the ruling doctrines of the contemporary authori-
tarian Soviet state provides an illustration of this type of adapta-
tion.

The postponement to an increasingly indefinite future of goals
that cannot be realized represents the third form of adjustment
to the situation of political responsibility. The proletarian revolu-
tion appears to be a goal that has undergone this fate.

Postponed goals may also return as active ingredients in
policy-making when the leaders find themselves in a dilemma, or
when circumstances judged favorable for their achievement re-
cur. The goals may return in a slightly modified but easily recog-
nizable form. This is particularly apt to happen after the leaders
have been following without success a policy that represents a
deviation from earlier doctrines. Then the cry can be raised that
failures have been due to the fact that the original doctrines
were not adhered to. The clearest illustration of this type of con-
catenation of circumstances may be found at the time of the end
of the NEP, when the leaders returned very largely, though by
no means entirely, to earlier ideas and solutions in both domestic
and foreign policy. The elimination of private capitalism in in-
dustry, the collectivization of agriculture, and the return to
uncompromising hostility toward non-Communist leftist groups
at the Sixth Congress of the Comintern all belong to the same
pattern of thinking. To some extent the same situation holds true
today. The failure of attempted collaboration with the West, be-
cause of the polarization of world politics, has led to a recrudes-
cence of doctrinaire othodoxy.

It is worth noting that an indefinite future does not neces-
sarily mean a distant future. Elusive goals that are just around
the corner may serve the sociological and psychological function
of maintaining group cohesiveness and faith in a doctrine even
better than distant goals. For a long time the proletarian revolu-
tion was treated as an event that was just around the corner.
Only about 1934 did signs appear that it was being postponed to
the Greek calends. At the present time the elimination of "bu-

424 Today's Dilemma

reaucratic distortions" and the realization of "true Soviet de-
mocracy" are often treated as goals to be achieved in the im-
mediate future. Thus they serve the purpose of smoothing over
immediate contradictions in the social system. As Sorel pointed
out, men sometimes work more effectively for impracticable
goals than for practicable ones. As one final instance, one may
mention the goal of a communist, as opposed to a socialist, so-
ciety. For some persons this goal may be one that is to be real-
ized in the very near future. As recently as July 1939 the Soviet
economist Varga declared, "The material basis for the transition
from socialism to Communism has been laid/'8 For others it is
probably a goal to be achieved in a very distant future.

A concomitant feature of the postponement of goals is their
ritualization. Upon state occasions various ideals are brought
out for public reaffirmation, although few persons if any take
them seriously as guides to policy. Nevertheless, reaffirmation of
these goals is somehow reassuring, an indication that nothing has
changed after all, that the leaders are trustworthy bearers of
tradition, and that the world will soon be put to rights. Loyal
followers are likely to be disturbed if this ritual attention fails
to take place at the appropriate time and place. If the President
of the United States, to use an American example, failed to utter
certain symbolic platitudes at the time of his inauguration, there
would be a vague feeling of uneasiness in many parts of the
nation. Likewise, if the Soviet leaders failed to reaffirm their
loyalty to the principles of Lenin on the anniversary of the Revo-
lution, many good Communists might feel that the heavens were
about to collapse.

The simplest, and perhaps the rarest, fate to befall any por-
tion of the doctrines of a protest movement is their continuation
and application in practice. The transfer of the means of produc-
tion to the society as a whole is the only aspect of Marxist-
Leninist doctrine about which one can say with considerable
plausibility that the goal has been achieved. For many Marxists
this was not an important goal in itself, but a means to the end
of creating a society free from the oppressions believed to be

Conclusions 425

inherent in the capitalist system. Some of the Marxist-Leninist
ends appear to have been achieved, particularly the elimination
of recurring cycles of unemployment with their corrosive effects
on human personality. Yet it would be difficult to maintain that
the other goals of liberation have been won.

Notes

Motes

Shortened titles have been used whenever possible; for fuller identification
see the Bibliography. No Russian titles have been translated here when full
translations occur in the Bibliography. In general, it has been my custom to
retain familiar English transliterations of Russian words and names. In addi-
tion, Russian e when preceded by a vowel has been transliterated ye, ex-
cept in those cases in which by so doing the standard Russian pronuncia-
tion is misrepresented.

INTRODUCTION

1. The limitations of a case-
study approach to this problem are
stressed in Parsons, "The Role of
Ideas in Social Action," Essays in
Sociological Theory, chap. vi.

2. For a critical analysis, see
Merton, Social Theory, chap. viii.

3. Marx and Engels, German
Ideology, pp. 7, 13. This work, com-
pleted in the summer of 1846, repre-
sents the earliest and most compre-
hensive exposition of Marx's views
on the role of ideas.

4. Ibid., pp. 13-14.

5. Ibid., p. 14,

6. Ibid., p. 28.

7. From a letter by Engels to
Joseph Bloch, in Marx, Selected
Works, I, 381-383.

8. Northrop, Meeting of East
and West, p. 12.

9. Ibid., p. 246. Italics in orig-
inal in this and other quotations
unless otherwise noted.

10. On this question see, for one
side of the case, Trotsky, Stalin
School of Falsification. Nearly all the
accusations are directed against mis-
representation in Soviet secondary
accounts, though there is one essay,
"The Lost Document,** devoted to
the suppression of one of Lenin's
speeches.

11. Compare Stalin, October Rev-
olution, p. 30, and his Sochineniya,
IV, 154.

12. For a recent discussion of the
political functions of the Soviet
press, see Inkeles, Public Opinion,
chaps, ix— xiv.

CHAPTER 1: HOW AN IDEOLOGY EMERGED

1. Trotsky, My Life, p. 337.

2. See Trotsky, Our Revolution,
pp. 73-93, and a much more fully
developed analysis by the same
author in his Geschichte der Rus-
sischen Revolution, I, 15-27. The
thesis is very cogently argued by

Dan, Protekhozhdeniye Bol'she-
vfama, esp. pp. 20-31. Dan was a

Erominent Menshevik leader who
iter became reconciled to Stalinist
policy, though remaining in exile.
Souvarine, Staline, chap, ii; Rosen-
berg, Geschichte des Bokchewismus,

430

Notes to Chapter 1

chaps, i and ii; and Borkenau, Com-
munist International, chaps, i-iv,
present the same thesis with many
suggestive insights. Of these three,
only Souvarine has command of the
Russian sources. With the exception
of Dan, all are strongly anti-Stalin-
ist. Likewise Berdyaev, a former
Marxist, in his Origin of Russian
Communism (p. 113), argues that
"Communism was the inevitable fate
of Russia," because social circum-
stances forced liberalism in Russia to
become Utopian. Completely con-
vincing proof or disproof of such
arguments is, of course, impos-
sible.

3. The Great Retreat.

4. Miliukov, Ocherki, I, 192-202.
Figures on p. 195.

5. Berlin, Russkaya Burzhuaziya,
pp. 235-236.

6. Ibid., pp. 287-290.

7. Miliukov, Rossiya na Pere-
lome, I, 31-32; Berlin, Russkaya
Burzhuaziya, p. 150.

8. Berlin, Russkaya Burzhuaziya,
p. 286.

9. Robinson, Rural Russia, p.
147.

10. Vernadsky, History of Russia,
p. 179.

11. Robinson, Rural Russia, pp.
144-145.

12. Ibid., pp. 128, 138-139, 196,
203.

13. Ibid., pp. 160-162, 170-174.

14. Russia in Flux, pp. 108-109.

15. Robinson, Rural Russia, p.
144.

16. Maynard, Russia in Flux, p.
87.

17. Ibid., p. 89.

18. Robinson, Rural Russia, pp.
226-227.

19. Maynard, Russia in Flux, pp,
89-90.

20. Rossiya na Perekme, I, 39-
41.

21. Dan, Proiskhozhdeniye BoZ'-
shevizma, chap, v and p. 106. See
also Gurian, Bolshevism, pp. 12-24,
for valuable observations on the
Russian intelligentsia and the social
tensions produced by the diffusion of
Western culture. Berdyaev's entire
study, Origin of Russian Commu-
nism, is concerned with the intelli-
gentsia's reaction to the impact of
the West.

22. Quoted by Wolfe, Three Who
Made a Revolution, pp. 93-94.

23. Dan, Proiskhozhdeniye BoT-
shevizma, pp. 262-263.

24. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh (3d
ed.), pp. laff.

25. Ibid., p. 2.

26. Ibid., p. 33.

27. Plekhanov, Sochineniya, XII,
418-419.

28. Dan, Proiskhozhdeniye Bol'-
shevizma, p. 363.

29. Lorimer, Population, p. 22.

30. Lenin, "Two Tactics of Social
Democracy," July, 1905, Selected
Works, III, 72.

31. Ibid., p. 75.

32. Ibid.9 p. 82.

33. See the Bolshevik proposals to
the Sixth Congress, Stockholm, 1906,
in VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh (3d
ed.), pp. 50-54. The proposals were
not adopted.

34. See Chapter 2.

35. Souvarine, Staline, pp. 85-56,
gives a valuable account or the tac-
tical disagreements in the evaluation
of the 1905 revolution.

36. "Two Tactics," p. 100.

37. Ibid., p. 101.

38. "Neskollco Tezisov" (Some
Theses) in Sochineniya (2d ed.),
XVIII, 312, published in Sozial Dem-
okrat, October 13, 1915.

39. "Nabrosok Tezisov 17 Marta
1917" (Rough Draft of Theses,
March 17, 1917) in Sochineniya (2d
ed.), XX, 9-11.

Lenin's Plans

431

40. For a brief characterization of
this Cabinet, see Chamberlin, Rus-
sian Revolution, I, 88-89.

41. Lenin, "Nabrosok Tezisov," p.
12.

42. "O proletarskoi militsii" (On
a Proletarian Militia), in "Letters

from Afar," letter 3, March 24, 1917,
Sochinentya (2d ed.), XX, 33, 34.

43. "The Tasks of the Proletariat
in the Present Revolution," April 20,
1917 (also referred to as the "April
Theses"), Selected Works, VI, 23.

CHAPTER 2: LENIN'S PLANS

1. Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXVII,
398-401. The article was printed in
Pravda, May 30, 1923.

2. State and Revolution in Se-
lected Works, VII, 44.

3. Ibid., p. 18.

4. Ibid., p. 51.

5. "Can the Bolsheviks Retain
State Power?" October 21, 1917, Se-
lected Works, VI, 278.

6. State and Revolution, p. 29.

7. "Can the Bolsheviks Retain
State Power?" p. 262.

8. Ibid., p. 264.

9. Ibid., p. 263.

10. "Political Parties and Tasks of
the Proletariat," Selected Works, VI,
81.

11. Ibid., pp. 271-273.

12. State and Revolution, p. 42.

13. "Can the Bolsheviks Retain
State Power?" pp. 264-265.

14. State and Revolution, p. 47.

15. Ibid.

16. Ibid., p. 42.

17. "Can the Bolsheviks Retain
State Power?" p. 266.

18. Ibid., p. 269.

19. Ibid., p. 265.

20. Ibid., p. 267.

21. Ibid., p. 270.

22. State and Revolution, p. 48.

23. Ibid., pp. 88, 89.

24. See Leninskii Sbornik (1932
ed.), XIX, 27-85. The Leninskii
Sbornik, still in the process of publi-
cation, is a many-volumed collection
of Lenin's notes, notebooks, rough
drafts of articles and speeches, tele-

grams, letters, and similar informal
materials.

25. Kautsky's assertions to this ef-
fect were heavily underscored by
Lenin. See Leninskii Sbornik, XIX,
71.

26. "The Agrarian Programme of
Social Democracy in the First Rus-
sian Revolution, 1905-1907," written
in November and December 1907,
Selected Works, III, 279-280.

27. Ibid., pp. 258, 280.

28. Ibid., XII, 324, with full quo-
tations from Marx. For some reason,
Lenin's article is divided between
volume III and volume XII of the
Selected Works, perhaps because the
latter volume is entirely given over
to Lenin's theoretical writings on
agricultural matters.

29. Ibid., XII, 330. The statement
is by Lenin and attributed to Marx.

30. Ibid.

31. Ibid., p. 326.

32. Ibid., p. 305.

33. "Materials Relating to the Re-
vision of the Party Program," sub-
mitted to the All-Russian Confer-
ence of the RSDLP, May 7-12,
1917, Selected Works, VI, 123.

34. "The Agrarian Programme of
Social Democracy," XII, 333.

35. Ibid., p. 334.

36. Die Agrarfrage (2d ed.), p.
300.

37. Leninskii Sbornik, XIX, 62.

38. Ibid.9 p. 42.

39. "To the Rural Poor, An Ex-
planation of What the Social Demo-

432

Notes to Chapters 2 and S

crats Want," 1903, Selected Works,
II, 293.

40. "Materials Relating to the Re-
vision of the Party Program/* p. 123.
The text of the 1903 program is
given on the same page.

41. See VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(3ded.), p. 182.

42. "Two Tactics," pp. 9S-97.

43. "The Stages, Trends and
Prospects of the Revolution/' writ-
ten at the beginning of 1906, Se-
lected Works, III, 135.

44. Dan, Proiskhozhdeniye Bol'-
shevizma, pp. 293-294, 390.

45. Trotsky, "Prospects of a
Labor Dictatorship/* a partial trans-
lation of Itogi i Perspektivy (Past
Achievements and Prospects), in
Our Revolution, p. 85. The original
brochure was written in 1906.

46. Ibid., pp. 95-96.

47. Ibid., pp. 100-101.

48. Ibid., pp. 103-108.

49. Ibid., pp. 136-137.

50. Ibid., p. 139.

51. Ibid., p. 140.

52. Leninskii Sbornik (1931 ed.),
XII, 416.

53. Ibid., pp. 424ff.

54. Ibid., p. 408.

55. As copied by Lenin, the pas-
sage reads: "Wo es auch kein Sys-
tem, keinen Wahrheitsapparat giebt,
da giebt es doch eine Wahrheit,
und dies wird dann meistens nur
durch ein geiibtes Urtheil und den
Takt einer langer Erfahrung gefun-

den. Giebt also die Geschichte hier
kiene Formeln, so giebt sie doch
hier wie iiberall Ubung des
Urthetts" Leninskii Sbornik, XII,
420.

56. Imperialism, the Highest
Stage of Capitalism, in Selected
Works, V, 81, 88-89, 109-110.

57. Ibid., pp. 116-117.

58. "Defeat of One's Own Gov-
ernment in the Imperialist War/*
written in 1915, Selected Works, V,
142.

59. The Manifesto was drafted in
September 1914 and sent to mem-
bers of the Central Committee who
were in Russia, as well as to other
responsible Party leaders there.
After receiving their approval, it
was published on November 1,

1914. See the editor's note to the
Manifesto in RKP(b) v Rezoliutsi-
yakh, p. 165, and the text of the
Manifesto itself on the following
pages. The refusal to vote war
credits is mentioned in the Mani~
festo and also by Souvarine, Staline,
p. 133.

60. "A Few Theses," October

1915, Selected Works, V, 157.

61. Ibid.

62. "The Aims of the Revolu-
tion/' October 9-10, 1917, Selected
Works, VI, 244. For the offer to
Germany, see L. Fischer, Soviets in
World Affairs, I, 128.

63. "The Aims of the Revolu-
tion/' pp. 244-245.

CHAPTER 3: DILEMMA OF MEANS AND ENDS

1. Dan, Proiskhozhdeniye "BoT-
shevizma, p. 288.

2. Ibid., p. 181.

3. Quoted, ibid., p. 281; see also
p. 273.

4. What Is To Be Done? writ-
ten in 1902, Selected Works, II,
53.

5. Ibid., pp. 62-63.

6. Ibid., p. 64.

7. Ibid., p. 62.

8. "A Dual Power," April 22,
1917, Selected Works, VI, 29.

9. See, for example, "The Bol-
sheviks Must Assume Power/' a
letter to the Central Committee and

Dilemma of Means and Ends

433

to the Petrograd and Moscow Com-
mittees of the RSDLP, September
25-27, 1917, Selected Works, VI,
215-217.

10. Ibid., p. 217.

11. See "The Tasks of the Prole-
tariat in the Present Revolution,"
Lenin's April Theses, Selected
Works, VI, 23.

12. What Is To Be Done? p. 147.

13. Ibid., p. 150.

14. Ibid., pp. 138, 152.

15. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(3d ed.), p. 46.

16. "Pis'mo k tovarishchu o
nashikh organizatsionnykh zada-
chakh" (Letter to a Comrade about
Our Organizational Tasks), Sochi-
neniya (4th ed.), VI, 224.

17. Ibid., p. 209.

18. What Is To Be Done? p. 154.

19. "Pis'mo k tovarishchu," p.
213.

20. Ibid., pp. 222-223.

21. "Proyekt rezoliutsii ob otno-
sheniyakh rabochikh i intelligentov
v S-D organizatsiyakh" (Draft of
a Resolution on the Relationship be-
tween Workers and Intellectuals in
Social Democratic Organizations),
Sochineniya (4th ed.), VIII, 377.

22. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(3ded.), p. 46.

23. "Tasks of the Proletariat,"
p. 22.

24. Quoted by Chamberlin, Rus-
sian Revolution, I, 183.

25. Protokoly Shestogo S'ezda
RSDRP (b), pp. 165-166.

26. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(3ded.),p.3.

27. "Pis'mo A. A. Bogdanovu i
S, I Gusevu" (Letter to A. A. Bog-
danov and S. I. Gusev), Sochineniya
(4th ed.), VIII, 124.

28. Such statements may be
found in Lenin's writings as early
as the summer of 1904. See "Chego
my dobyvaemsya?" (What Are We

Aiming At?), written in July 1904,
Sochineniya (4th ed.), VII, 418.
This stands in sharp contrast with
his famous "One Step Forward,
Two Steps Backward," written in
May of the same year.

29. "Doklad ob ob'edinitel'nom
s'ezde RSDRP, Pis'mo k Peterburg-
sldm rabochim" (Report on the
Unity Congress of the RSDLP, Let-
ter to the Workers of St. Peters-
burg), Sochineniya (4th ed.), X,
348. The pamphlet was written in
May 1906.

30. "Svoboda kritiki i edinstvo
deistvii" (Freedom of Criticism
and Unity of Action), May 1906,
Sochineniya (4th ed.), X, 408-409.

31. "Doklad ob ob'ediniternom
s'ezde RSDRP," pp. 348-349.

32. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(3d ed.), p. 258.

33. 'The Boycott," written in
September 1906, Selected Works,
III, 392-400.

34. "Doklad ob ob'ediniternom
s'ezde RSDRP," p. 349.

35. "Svoboda kritiki," p. 409.

36. "Sotsial-demokratiya i vybory
v Peterburge" (Social Democracy
and the Elections in St. Petersburg),
written January 26-27, 1907, Sochi-
neniya (4th ed.), XI, 396. The Eng-
lish term "referendum" is used by
Lenin.

37. "Where to Begin," Selected
Works, II, 17.

38. "Can the Bolsheviks Retain
State Power?" Selected Works, VI,
269.

39. Souvarine, Staline, pp. 56,
104.

40. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 289.

41. Lenin, "The Crisis Has Ma-
tured," Selected Works, VI, 232,
and notes, p. 584, where the text of
Kamenev's resignation is included.

42. The text of the resolution is

434

Notes to Chapters 3 and 4

given in Lenin, Selected Works, VI,
303.

43. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 293-294. Lenin, Selected
Works, VI, 595 (notes).

44. Selected Works, VI, 331.

45. Additional material on the
differences of opinion between
Kamenev and Zinoviev on the one
hand and Lenin on the other may
be found in Kamenev i Zinoviev v
1917 g. Fakty i Dokumenty (Kame-
nev and Zinoviev in 1917, Facts and
Documents). This book, published at
the time of later factional struggles,
when both of these men were allied
with Trotsky, consists of reprints of
their newspaper controversies with
Lenin during 1917.

46. The texts of these bylaws are
included in the collection of Party
resolutions, of which there are sev-
eral editions.

47. Piatnitsky, Memoirs of a Bol-
shevik, p. 159.

48. Ibid., p. 116.

49. Ibid., pp. 162-163.

50. A full account of Malinov-
sky's career, based on a careful
study of the sources, may be found
in Wolfe, Three Who Made a Revo-
lution, chap, xxxi. Scattered through
Wolfe's book is a large amount of
additional information on the Party's
relations with the police.

51. Piatnitsky, Memoirs, p. 19.

52. Ibid., p. 179, note.

53. Ibid., pp. 76-77.

54. Ibid., p. 163.

55. Quoted in Spiridovich, Isto-
riya Bol'shevizma, p. 52.

56. Spiridovich, Istoriya BoTshe-
vizma, pp. 103-104. Souvarine,
Staline, p. 73, credits the revolt to
the Mensheviks.

57. Spiridovich, Istoriya Bol'she-
vizma, p. 142.

58. White, Growth of the Red
Army, chap. i.

59. Souvarine, Staline, pp. 91,
93ff. For a different interpretation,
see Trotsky, Stalin, p. 105.

60. Souvarine, Staline, p. 120.

61. Ibid., p. 91,

62. Spiridovich, Istoriya Bol'she-
vizma, pp. 50-51.

63. Wolfe, Three Who Made a
Revolution, chap. xxii.

64. Trotsky, Stalin, p. 104, lists
the sections of the Party opposed to
further expropriations.

65. VKP(b) v Rezolwtsiyakh
(3d ed.), p. 95.

66. Spiridovich, Istoriya Bol'she-
vizma, p. 265. This statement may
have been motivated by personal
and bureaucratic rivalries within
the police organization.

CHAPTER 4: VICTORY CREATES DILEMMAS

1. The name was changed from
Russian Social Democratic Labor
Party to Russian Communist Party
(Bolsheviks) at the Seventh Con-
gress in March 1918. Following the
formation of the USSR in 1922, the
Fourteenth Congress in 1925
changed the name to All-Union
Communist Party ( Bolsheviks ) .
However, it has become customary

in English to use the less clumsy
name of Communist Party of the
Soviet Union.

2. See the theses of the Left
Communists of April 20, 1918, from
Kommunist, no. 1, reproduced in
Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXII,
appendix, esp, pp. 569^-570. Dobb,
Russian Economic Development,
pp. 52-53. This account is very

Alternative Solutions

435

valuable, not only for its interpreta-
tion of the early problems faced by
the Bolsheviks and the alternate
solutions presented, but also for its
wide use of quotations from Russian
sources not easily accessible in the
United States.

3. Dobb, Russian Economic De-
velopment, pp. 53-60.

4. On the period of War Com-
munism, see Dobb, Soviet Economic
Development, chap. v. This is a
new and revised version of his Rus-
sian Economic Development. Larin
and Kritzmann, Wirtschaftsleben,
provide a brief sketch of some of the
major developments from the point
of view of two left-wing economists.

5. See Dobb, Soviet Economic
Development, pp. 122-123.

6. "Speech Delivered at the
First Ail-Russian Conference on
Work in the Rural Districts," No-
vember 18, 1919, Selected Works,
VIII, 190-191.

7. Protokoly VIII S'ezda RKP
(6), pp. 36, 38.

8. Ibid., p. 39.

9. Prokopovicz, Russlands Volks-
wirtschaft, p. 250.

10. Ibid., p. 100.

11. Baykov, Development of the

Soviet Economic System, pp. 26-
27.

12. Trotsky, My , Life, pp. 463-
464.

13. Liberman, Building Lenin's
Russia, p. 93.

14. Kommunist, no. 1, as repro-
duced in Lenin, Sochineniya (2d
ed.), XXII, 567.

15. For the Workers' Opposition,
see "Theses of the Workers' Opposi-
tion for the Tenth Congress of the
Communist Party," Russian text in
Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXVI,
563-569, and Dobb, Russian Eco-
nomic Development, pp. 156-157.
The platform of the Group for
Democratic Centralism may be
found in Pravda, January 25, 1921.

16. Lenin's more important
speeches on the NEP are collected
in vol. IX of his Selected Works.

17. "On Cooperation," January
4^6, 1923, Selected Works, IX, 408.

18. Ibid., p. 405.

19. Lorimer, Population, p. 30.

20. Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, p. 121.

21. Ibid., p. 136. Prokopovicz,
Russlands Volkstoirtschaft, p. 109.
The figures are from the latter

CHAPTER 5: ALTERNATIVE SOLUTIONS

1. Trotsky, K Sotsialtemu, pp,
38-39.

2. Ibid., p. 57.

3. Ibid., pp. 26-27.

4. Dvenadtsatyi S'ezd RKP(b),
pp. 315-316.

5. Ibid., pp. 318-319.

6. K Sotsializmu, p. 49.

7. Dvenadtsatyi S>ezd RKP(b),
p. 312,

8. K Sotsializmu, p. 6.

9. Ibid.9 pp. 18-19.

10. For a summary of his views,
see Dobb, Soviet Economic Develop-

ment, pp. 183-184, citing E. Preo-
brazhensky, "The Fundamental Law
of Socialist Accumulation," in
Vestnik Komm. Akademii, VIII,
59ff., 69-70, 78ff."A fuller discussion
may be found in Erlich, "Preobra-
zhenski and the Economics of Soviet
Industrialization," Quarterly Journal
of Economics, no. 1 (February 1950),
pp. 57-88.

11. K Sotsidizmu, p. 20.

12. See Erklarung der Funfhun-
dert; see also Mitteilungsblatt, no.
3, February 1, 1927. The latter

436

Notes to Chapter 5

publication later assumed the title
of Fahne des Kommunismus. The
various platforms and documents of
the Left Opposition received only
clandestine circulation in Russia and
were published abroad.

13. Trotsky, Real Situation, p. 68.
According to Trotsky's translator,
this document was a project for a
Party platform introduced into the
Central Committee by thirteen op-
position members in September
1927 in preparation for the Fifteenth
Party Congress. This project was
allegedly suppressed by Stalin.

14. XV S'ezd VKP (b), p. 56.

15. The articles were gathered
into a brochure, published under
the title Novyi Kurs (Moscow,
1924).

16. Trans, by John G. Wright
(New York, 1937).

17. K Sotsializmu, p. 57; see also
pp. 59-61.

18. Trotsky, Permanentnaya Revo-
liutsiya, p. 167. This conception
represents a development of his
1905 ideas that the inherent dy-
namics of revolution would prevent
it from stopping at the so-called
bourgeois-democratic stage.

19. Mittetiungsblatt, no. 3, Feb-
ruary 1, 1927.

20. Cf. Trotsky, Revolution Be-
trayed.

21. The text of this document is
included as an appendix in Trot-
sky's Real Situation, as well as in
pamphlet form, On the Suppressed
Testament of Lenin. Though £here
is some question concerning the
genuineness of this document, I ac-
cept as evidence of its authenticity
Stalin's reference to it in Interna-
tional Press Correspondence of No-
vember 17, 1927, quoted in the
foreword of the pamphlet version.

22. Bukharin, Put' k Sotsializmu
(4th ei), pp. 64-66,

23. Ibid., p. 68.

24. He also proposed such a
policy for the Communist Interna-
tional. See Bukharin, Uber die
Bauernfrage.

25. Speech by Kamenev, XIV
S'ezd VKP (b), pp. 269-270.

26. Speech by Bukharin in Trudy
Pervogo Vsesoiuznogo Soveshcha-
niya Sel'sko-khozyaistvennykh Kol-
lektivov, p. 258.

27. Speech by Bukharin, ibid., p.
261.

28. Speech by Bukharin, ibid.,
p. 257.

29. Bukharin, Put' k Sotsializmu,
pp. 56-57.

30. L. Fischer, Men and Politics,
pp. 96-98. Mr. Fischer had access
to some of the clandestine opposi-
tion documents and refers to various
incidents about which the Party
Central Committee complained at
a later date; his account, therefore,
may be considered highly reliable.
A more detailed account, apparently
based on similar materials, though
they are not identified in his exten-
sive bibliography, may be found in
Souvarine, Stahne, pp. 444-450.

31. Many of his polemical articles
against Trotsky are collected in K
Voprosu o Trotskizme.

32. September 30, 1928.

33. Resolution approved on April
23, 1929.*See VKP(b) t> Rezoliutsi-
yakh (ethed), II, 317.

34. Pravda, June 30, 1929.

35. Bukharin, Ergebnisse des VI.
Kongresses der KI, pp. 23-24.

36. Clues to his probable line of
reasoning may be found in his
pessimistic appraisal at the Fifteenth
Party Conference of the possibilities
of increasing the rate of capital in-
vestment. See XV Konferentswa
VKP(6), pp. 108-113.

37. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsii/akh
(6thed.), II, 314.

Political Dynamics

437

38. Ibid.

39. Ibid., p. 316.

40. For Bukharin's version, see
his Probleme der Chinesischen Revo-
lution.

41. Borkenau, Communist Inter-
national, chap. xx.

42. "leoreticheskie vyvody tov.
Bukharina," Kommunisticheskii In-
ternatsional, nos. 34-35 (August 31,
1929), p. 15.

43. Ergebnisse des VI. Kon-
gresses der KI, p. 39.

44. For Stalin's version, see his
"The Right Deviation in the
CPSU(b)," excerpt from a speech
delivered at the Plenum of the Cen-
tral Committee of the CPSU(b),
April 1929, in Problems of Leninism,
pp. 248-249.

45. XJV S'ezd VKP(b), pp. 28,
49, 958.

46. From his report to the Four-
teenth Congress of the Party, in
Stalin, Sochineniya, VII, 315.

47. Stalin, Ob Industrializatsii
Strany, pp. 43-44.

48. Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, p. 155.
For an outline of the various plans
presented, see Dobb, Soviet Eco-
nomic Development, pp. 230-237.
The discussion among the econo-
mists and other experts was public;
that among those who made the
real decision was secret.

49. See his speech of October 23,
1927, in Stalin, Ob Oppozitsii, pp.
73S-739.

50. XV S'ezd VKP(b), pp. 55ff.

51. Ibid., pp. 1207-1216.

52. Ibid., pp. 1061-1062.

53. Ibid., p. 56; see also p. 59.

54. A decree of the Party Cen-
tral Committee, "On the Tempo of
Collectivization and Measures of
Government Assistance in Collective
Farm Construction,'' January 5,
1930, is usually regarded as the
opening gun in this campaign. Text
in Direktivy VKP (b) po Khozyai-
stvennym Voprosam, pp. 662-664.
The Communists deny that collec-
tivization was forced upon the peas-
ants, although this is the opinion of
most observers.

55. See the remarks on Georg
von Vollmar, a German Socialist
who adopted strong gradualist views
around the turn of the century, in
Florinsky, World Revolution, p. 148,
n. 13.

56. "The Political State of the
Republic," speech of October 27,
1920, in October Revolution, p. 31,

57. "Foundations of Leninism,"
April 1924, in Problems of Lenin-
ism, p. 26.

58. Later he changed this opin-
ion and modified subsequent edi-
tions of his speech. But the early
version may be found quoted in an
article dated January 25, 1926, "On
the Problems of Leninism," Prob-
lems of Leninism, p. 153.

59. See "Foundations of Lenin-
ism," pp. 27-28.

CHAPTER 6: POLITICAL DYNAMICS

1. "The Anniversary of the
Revolution," speech delivered at the
Sixth Extraordinary Congress of
Soviets, November 6, 1918, Selected
Works, VI, 495.

3. Ibid., p. 322.

4. Ibid., p. 320.

5. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 365.

6. "Speech on the Agrarian

2. Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXIII, Question," delivered at the Extraor-

318, 319.

dinary Congress of Soviets of Peas-

438

Notes to Chapter 6

ants' Deputies, November 27, 1917;
press report, Selected Works, VI,
422.

7. "The Elections to the Con-
stituent Assembly and the Dictator-
ship of the Proletariat," published
December 29, 1919, Selected Works,
VI, 464.

8. Trotsky, Stalin, p, 343.

9. Ibid.

10. Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXII,
186.

11. Lenin, speech of December
4, 1917, ibid., p. 97.

12. Lenin, "Speech Delivered at
the Second All-Russian Congress of
Peasants' Deputies," December 15,
1917, Selected Works, VI, 430, 638
(note).

13. It should be pointed out that
these measures were perfectly com-
patible with the "democratic stage"
of the Bolshevik scheme of social
development and with the measures
that they had advocated for this
stage. See Lenin's letter to Pravda,
"An Alliance Between the Workers
and the Toiling and Exploited Peas-
ants," December 1, 1917, Selected
Works, VI, 425-427, and his speech
of November 6, 1918, Selected
Works, VI, 491.

14. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 354.

15. Trotsky, Stalin, p. 337.

16. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, II, 54.

17. Chamberlin, ibid., I, 355, de-
scribes some of the anti-Bolshevik
organizations existing after the No-
vember coup, and in vol. II, pp. 49-
57, recounts the gradual elimination
of the competing political parties.
See also Trotsky, Stalin, p. 339, for
further details.

18. Complete text in Chamberlin,
Russian Revolution, II, 495-496.
See also his account of the revolt,
pp. 440-445.

19. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), 1,464-465.

20. Ibid., II, 105.

21. Russian Revolution, I, 341.

22. Texts of the declarations re-
printed in appendix of Lenin,
Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXII, 551-
552.

23. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 358-359; II, 64-66.

24. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), I, 285.

25. Selected Works, VIII, 67.

26. Russian Revolution, II, 75.
He rejects as a wild exaggeration the
figure of 1,700,000 victims of the
Red Terror.

27. Ibid., p. 79.

28. Liberman, Building Lenins
Russia, p. 62.

29. Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXVII,
139-140.

30. Selected Works, VII, 113-
217.

31. Defence of Terrorism.

32. Speech of November 27,
1918, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXIII,
309.

33. From the account of Boris
Sapir, a former inmate with wide
experience, in Dallin and Nicolaev-
sky, Forced Labor, p. 176.

34. Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXVII,
296 and notes.

35. For a valuable discussion of
these points see Schlesinger, Soviet
Legal Theory, passim and esp. pp.
75, 76, 106, 112, 208-209, 237-
238.

36. Text and commentary from
Glebov, Nash Osnovnoi Zakon, The
exclusion of nonproletarian elements
from these Soviets was justified on
the grounds of the present struggle
between the proletariat and the ex-
ploiters.

37. In section 31 of the Constitu-
tion, the AU-Russian Central Execu-
tive Committee is described as the

Political Dynamics

439

"highest law-giving, administrative,
and controlling organ of the
RSFSR/' As real political power
passed from the Congress of Soviets
to the All-Russian Central Execu-
tive Committee, then to the Coun-
cil of People's Commissars, and
finally to the Politburo, this section
for a while corresponded to actual
political practice and then too be-
came a vestigial declaration of in-
tentions.

38. Glebov, Nash Osnovnoi Za-
kon, p. 27.

39. Chamberlin, Russian Revolu-
tion, I, 342.

40. For details, see Batsell,
Soviet Rule, pp. 55ff. This seems to
me to be the best book in English
for the political and administrative
details of the period under con-
sideration. It contains innumerable
valuable references to original texts
and many important documents in
translation. Though Batsell has a
keen eye for political realities, his
interpretation is on occasion emo-
tionally anti-Soviet.

41. Text in Lenin, Sochineniya
(2ded.)> XXII, 570.

42. Sovetskoye Gosudarstvennoye
Ustroistvo, pp. 137-138.

43. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6thed.), I, 306.

44. Article by Sorin in Pashu-
kanis (ed.), 15 Let Sovetskogo
Stroitel'stva, p. 144.

45. Quoted by Batsell, Soviet
Rule, pp. 478-480, from the Steno-
graphic Report of the Congress, pp.
55, 56.

46. Stuchka, Ucheniye o Gosu-*
darstve, p. 259.

47. Adoratsky, "Diktatura," En-
tsiklopediya Gosudarstva i Prava, I,
935.

48. S'ezdy Sovetov SSSR v Posta-
novlentyakh i Rezoliutsiyakh, pp.
89-90.

49. XIV Konferentsiya RKP(b),
p. 38.

50. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6thed.), II, 105.

51. Ibid., pp. 104-105.

52. XIV Konferentsiya RKP(b),
p. 26.

53. Sovetskoye Gosudarstvennoye
Ustroistvo, p. 141; Levin and Suvo-
rov in Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovet-
skogo Stroitel'stva, p. 433.

54. XIV S'ezd VKP(b), p. 68.
His figures are given on pp. 65-
66.

55. Levin and Suvorov in Pashu-
kanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo Stroitel'-
stva, p. 434.

56. Ibid., p. 439.

57. Resolution of the Plenum of
the Party Central Committee of
July 14-23, 1926, VKP(b) v Reto-
liutsiyakh (6th ed.), II, 108.

58. Levin and Suvorov in Pashu-
kanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo Stroitel'-
stva, p. 433.

59. Ibid., p. 457.

60. Ibid., p. 473.

61. Rivkin, "Uchastiye Mass v
Rabote Sovetov," Sovetskoye Stroi-
teTstvo, no. 12 (December 1928),
p. 85.

62. Ibid., p. 12.

63. Levin and Suvorov in Pashu-
kanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo Stroitel'-
stva, p. 427.

64. Ibid., p. 436.

65. Ibid., p. 458.

66. Ibid., p. 459.

67. Ibid., p. 461.

68. See, for example, S. and B.
Webb, Soviet Communism, I, 27,
where the authors quote the ac-
count and conclusions of Karl
Borders, Village Life Under the
Soviets (New York, 1927), pp. 111-
115.

69. Sovetskoye Gosudarstvennoye
Ustroistvo, p. 166.

70. Levin and Suvorov in Pashu-

440

Notes to Chapters 6 and 7

karris, 15 Let Sovetskogo Stroitel'-
stva, pp. 426, 428.

71. Sovetskoye Gosudarstvennoye
Ustroistvo, pp. 168-169.

72. Ibid., p. 166.

73. Prokopovicz, Russlands Volks-
wirtschaft, p. 7.

74. XIV Konferentsiya RKP(b),
p. 21.

75. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), II, 447.

76. Ibid., p. 449.

77. Quoted by Levin and Suvo-
rov in Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovet-
skogo Stroitel'stva, p. 487.

78. Ocherednye Zadachi Partra-
boty, pp. 26, 27.

79. Levin and Suvorov in Pashu-

kanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo Stroitel*-
stva, pp. 470-471.

80. Ibid., p. 498.

81. Ibid., pp. 425, 480.

82. Ocherednye Zadachi Partra-
boty, pp. 23, 24.

83. Dvenadtsatyi S'ezd RKP(b),
pp. 41-42.

84. Chambertin, Russia's Iron
Age, p. 153. Although somewhat op-
posed to the Soviet regime by this
time, Chamberlin possessed the ad-
vantages of direct observation and
experience developed in a decade of
previous residence.

85. S. and B. Webb, Soviet Com-
munism, II, 577.

CHAPTER 7: TRANSFORMATION OF RULERS

1. "Demokraticheskii Tsentral-
izm," Bol'shaya Sovetskaya Entsi-
klopediya, XXI, 236-238.

2. This set of statutes was
adopted at the Eighth Ail-Russian
Conference of the Party, Decem-
ber 2-4, 1919. Text in VKP(b)
v Rezoliutsiyakh (6th ed.), I, 318-
323.

3. Still another set was adopted
in 1939; this set will be considered
in Part III.

4. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), II, 592.

5. Protokoly T$K RSDRP, p.
101. This volume consists of the
texts of summary notes made upon
the meetings of the Central Com-
mittee, August 1917-February 1918.

6. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), I, 304.

7. See editor's interpolation in
Trotsky, Stalin, p. 345.

8. See table in Towster, Politi-
cal Power, pp. 159-160.

9. Protokoly Devyaitogc* S'ezda
RKP(b), pp. 14, 17.

10. For the nature of topics dis-

cussed, see VKP(b) v Rezoliutsi-
yakh (6th ed.), II, 100, 275-276.

11. XIV S'ezd VKP(b), p. 508.

12. For some interesting figures
see Towster, Political Power, p. 155,
n. 51, and p. 159, n. 2.

13. Protokoly Devyatogo S'ezda
BKP(b), p. 17.

14. Lenmsku Sbornik (1945 ed.),
XXXV, 304.

15. The text may be found in
Izvestiya, January 1, 1922, and in
Kliuchnikov and Sabanin, Mezh-
dunarodnaya Politika, part III, sec-
tion i, pp. 157-160.

16. Trotsky, My Life, p. 334.

17. The details of Brest-Litovsk
are given from a detached point of
view in Chamberlin, Russian Revo-
lution, I, 397-408. They may also
be found in the Protokoly TsK
RSDRP, passim.

18. The case of Kamenev and
Zinoviev, who broke with the Party
leadership over the issue of the
seizure of power as well as over the
question of agreements with other
political parties, has already been

Transformation of Rulers

441

nentioned. In both cases what par-
icularly angered Lenin was the fact
hat they revealed their disagree-
nents with the Party leadership to
he outside world.

19. Trotsky, My Life, p. 424.

20. Ibid., p. 459.

21. "Once Again on the Trade
Jnions, the Present Situation, and
he Mistakes of Comrades Trotsky
md Bukharin," January 25, 1921,
Selected Works, VIII, 78.

22. From his report at the Tenth
Hongress of the Party, March 8,
L921, Selected Works, IX, 90.

23. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
;6th ed.), I, 364-366.

24. "Party Unity and the An-
ircho-Syndicalist Deviation/' re-
>ort delivered at the Tenth Con-
gress of the Communist Party,
vlarch 16, 1921, Selected Works,
X, 130.

25. Protokoly TsK RSDRP, p.
L75.

26. January 26, 1921.

27. Report to the Tenth Con-
gress of the Party, Selected Works,
X 91

28. Protokoly VIII S'ezda
IKP(b), pp. 165-166, 168.

29. Protokoly Devyatogo S'ezda
VKP(b), p. 57,

30. Editor's interpolation in Trot-
iky, Stalin, p. 350.

81. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
;6th ed.), I, 368.

32. "Kontrol'nye Kommissii," Ma-
aya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, IV,
L66.

33. Investigative units were ap-
jroved at the Eleventh Congress,
iccording to the VKP(b) v Rezo-
iutsiyakh (6th ed.), I, 442. The
•efcrence to the "Chekist type" may
>e found in the Malaya Sovetskaya
Entsiklopediya, IV, 167.

34. Malaya Sovetskaya Entsiklo-
a, IV, 168.

35. VKP(b) v Rezolititsiyakh
(6th ed.), II, 402.

36. History of the CPSU(b), p.
268. This book was published
shortly after the treason trials and
attempts to show that Trotsky, Bu-
kharin, and others were at all times
traitors to the Party. As a historical
source it is almost completely use-
less.

37. Ibid., pp. 262, 269. There
does not appear to be any reason
why these figures should have been
tampered with.

38. Kaganovich, Ocherednye Za-
dachi Partraboty, pp. 30, 38.

39. Dvenadtsatyi S'ezd RKP(b),
p. 133.

40. Ibid., pp. 92-93.

41. See Stalin's speech at the
Plenum of the Central Committee
and the Central Control Commis-
sion, October 23, 1927, in his Ob
Oppozitsii, pp. 72S-727.

42. History of the CPSU(b), p.
285.

43. Stalin, Ob Industrializatsii
Strany, p. 45. At first Stalin used a
figure of 6,000. Someone from the
floor shouted "10,000," the figure
Stalin then used. It is perhaps sig-
nificant that this speech is not in-
cluded in the collection Problems
of Leninism.

44. Pravda, no. 292, 1920, as
quoted in " 'Demokraticheskogo
Tsentralizma' Gruppa," Bol'shaya
Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, XXI,
242.

45. Ibid.

46. Trotsky, "The Lost Docu-
ment," Stalin School of Falsification,
pp. 114, 116, "The Lost Document"
refers to a report of the Session of
the Petersburg Committee of the
RSDLP of November 14, 1917,
which Trotsky alleges was destroyed
on Stalin's orders because of the
favorable references to Trotsky's

442

Notes to Chapters 7 and 8

behavior that were made by Lenin
on that occasion.

47. Trotsky, Novyi Kurs, pp. 22-
23. For the circumstances under
which this was written, see the edi-
tor's notes in Trotsky, Stalin, p.
371.

48. Novyi Kurs, pp. 25-26.

49. Ibid., p. 3.

50. Ibid., p. 82.

51. Ibid.

52. Text of their statement in
Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXII,
571.

53. Editor's note, Trotsky, Stalin,
p. 371.

54. Bukharin, Nieder mit der
Fraktionsmacherei, p. 7.

55. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), I, 542.

56. Diskussionnyi Sbornik.

57. Ibid., p. 60.

58. Ibid., p. 58. The speech was
prophetic, more so than Stalin or
anyone at the time could realize.
Both within and without the
monolithic Party, discussion of such
practical matters as cleaning seeds
to raise agricultural production has

remained free and vehement. It has
perhaps become in fact even more
vehement as other subjects became
taboo, and as intellectual energies
were more and more directed away
from general philosophical and polit-
ical problems into scientific and
practical administrative matters un-
der the Stalinist regime.

59. "Eshche Raz o Sotsial-demo-
kraticheskom Uklone v Nashei
Partii" (Once Again on the Social
Democratic Deviation in Our
Party), speech at the Eighth
Plenum of the Executive Com-
mittee of the Communist Interna-
tional, December 7-13, 1926, in
Ob Oppozitsii, pp. 442-445.

60. Russian Peasant, p. 218.

61. Ob Industrializatsii Strany,
pp. 52-53.

62. "Some Questions Concerning
the History of Bolshevism," letter to
the editors of Proletarskaya Revoliu-
tsiya, in Problems of Leninism, p.
389.

63. "Trotskyism or Leninism?"
speech of November 19, 1924, in
October Revolution, p. 76.

CHAPTER 8: MYTHOLOGY OF STATUS

1. See Lenin, "Draft Statutes
on Workers' Control,** November 8-
13, 1917, Selected Works, VI, 410-
411.

2. Maynard, Russian Peasant,
p. 109.

3. Koch, Die Borsevistischen
Gewerkschaften, pp. 152, 154. This
little-known work is an excellent
study of the political aspects of
labor-management relations, with
abundant references to the Russian
sources.

4. Bienstock, Schwarz, and
Yugow, Management, p. 32.

5. Desyaf Let Sovetskoi Diplo-
matii, p. 4.

6. Maisky, Vneshnyaya Politika
RSFSR, pp. 21-22.

7. Desyat* Let Sovetskoi Di-
plomatic, p. 6,

8. Bukharin, Oekonomik, pp.
78-79. The original Russian edition
appeared in 1920.

9. Ibid., p. 81.

10. Ibid., p. 82.

11. Selected Works, VIII, 39.

12. Ibid., IX, 369.

13. Ibid., p. 364.

14. Alimov and Studenikin in
Pashukanis, 1$ Let Sovetskogo
StroiteFtfva, p. 255.

15. Ibid., p. 256.

16. Lebed', "Biurokratiya," BoF-

Mythology of Status

443

shay a Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya,
VIII, 485, reports that in 1926 half
the office workers in Soviet trading
establishments were former workers
or peasants, the remaining half be-
ing mostly members of the new in-
telligentsia, and only an insignificant
portion former Tsarist officials. The
Pashukanis figures are both more
comprehensive and for a later
period.

17. XIV S'ezd VKP(b), p. 73.

18. Lebed' in BoFshaya Sovet-
skaya Entsiklopediya, VIII, 488.

19. Koch, Die Bol'tievistischen
Gewerkschaften, p. 159.

20. Maynard, Russian Peasant,
p. 109.

21. Bukharin and Preobrazhen-

S, Azbuka Kommunizma, p. 180.
5 original edition, from which
the one cited was reprinted with-
out change, was published in 1919.

22. Amfiteatrov and Ginzburg
in Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo
Stroitel'stva, p. 334.

23. Dobb, Russian Economic
Development, pp. 106-107.

24. Tomsky, "Zadachi Profes-
sional'nykh Soiuzov" (The Tasks of
the Trade Unions), Theses for the
Ninth Congress of the Communist
Party, Ekonomicheskaya Zhizn'
(Economic Life), no. 54, March
10, 1920, reproduced in Lenin, So-
chinenya (2d ed.), XXV, 544 (ap-
pendix). Also N. Osinsky, T. Sapro-
nov, V. Maksimovsky, "Tezisy o
KollegiaTnosti i Edinouchir (Theses
on Collegial Management and In-
dividual Responsibility), Ekonomi-
cheskaya Zhizn9, no. 68, March 28,
1920, in Lenin, Sochineniya (2d
ed,), XXV, 548.

25. Selected Works, VIII, 92.

26. "Rech' na III Vserossiiskom
s'ezde sovetov narodnogo khozyai-
stva 27 yanvarya 1920 g." (Speech
at the Third All-Russian Congress of

Soviets of the National Economy,
January 27, 1920), Sochineniya (2d
ed.), XXV, 17.

27. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6thed.),I, 333.

28. See the valuable discussion
in Towster, Political Power, pp. 288-
293.

29. Thesis nine of Tomsky's
views on the trade-union question,
Ekonomicheskaya Zhizn, no. 54,
March 10, 1920, as reproduced in
Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXV,
544.

30. Koch, Die Bol'sevistischen
Gewerkschaften, pp. 164-165.

31. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), I, 33&-340.

32. Ibid., p. 420.

33. Koch, Die BoTsevistischen
Gewerkschaften, p. 175.

34. See the study, based on an
investigation by the Central Con-
trol Commission of the Party, by
ITinsky, in Sovetskoye StroiteFstvo,
nos. 5-6 (May-June 1928), pp. 54r-
55.

35. Quoted from Pravda, March
11, 1937, in Bienstock, Schwarz,
and Yugow, Management, pp. 43-
44.

36. XII S'ezd HKP(fc), pp. 131-
132.

37. Ibid., p. 113.

38. Ibid., pp. 42-43.

39. Koch, Die BoVsevistischen
Gewerkschaften, pp. 211-212.

40. Speech by Yakovlev, XIV
Konferentsiya VKP(b), pp. 220-
221

41. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), I, 581.

42. Ibid., p. 646.

43. XVI S'ezd VKP(b), p. 79.

44. Dobb, Russian Economic
Development, pp. 133-134.

45. Alimov and Studenildn in
Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo
StroiteVstva, p. 257.

444

Notes to Chapter 8

46. For a Soviet discussion of
the problem of checking up on de-
cisions in the period under discus-
sion, see ibid., pp. 279ff.

47. Liberman, Building Lenin's
Russia.

48. White, Growth of the Red
Army, pp. 88-89, 209, 231, 236,
329.

49. Trotsky, My Life, p. 479.

50. "The New Economic Policy
and the Tasks of the Political Edu-
cation Departments," Selected
Works, IX, 274.

51. XVI Konferentsiya VKP(b),
pp. 212-216.

52. Lebed' in Bol'shaya Sovet-
skaya Entsiklopediya, VIII, 480-
481.

53. "A Letter to J. V. Stalin on
Drawing Up Regulations for the
Workers* and Peasants' Inspection,"
January 24, 1920, Selected Works,
IX, 457. The absence of workers in
the administrative apparatus can
hardly, however, have been the
cause of the regime's difficulties,
since according to Lenin's own fig-
ures, taken from a government eco-
nomic report of 1920, workers com-
prised 61.6 per cent of the higher
administrative bodies of the state.
See Lenin, "Once Again on the
Trade Unions, the Present Situation,
and the Mistakes of Comrades Trot-
sky and Buldharin," January 25,
1921, Selected Works, IX, 60.

54. Novyi Kurs, pp. 16-18.

55. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), II, 785.

56. XVI Konferentsiya VKP(b),
p. 231.

57. Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovet-
skogo StroiteFstva, p. 29.

58. See XVI S'exd VKP(b), pp.
67ff.; also Alimov and Studenikin
in Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo
Stroitel'stva, pp. 267J0F.

59. Decree of March 16, 1930,
VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh (4th ed.),
II, 793-795.

60. "Rech* na zasedanii kom-
munisticheskoi fraktsii VTsSPS"
(Speech at a Session of the Com-
munist Fraction of the AU-Union
Council of Trade Unions), March
15, 1920, Sochineniya (2d ed.),
XXV, 84.

61. H'insky, "Predely Uproch-
neniya Apparata," Sovetskoye
Stroitel'stvo, nos. 5-6 (May-June
1928), pp. 37-40.

62. "K Perevybornoi Kampanii
Sovetov," Sovetskoye StroiteTstvo,
no. 11 (November 1928), p. 10.

63. VKP(b) 1} Rezoliutsiijakh
(4th ed.), II, 631.

64. Alimov and Studenikin in
Pashukanis, 15 Let Sovetskogo
Stroitel'stva, p. 285.

65. "How We Should Reor-
ganize the Workers' and Peasants*
Inspection," a proposal to the
Twelfth Party Congress, Selected
Works, IX, 384. This may be con-
trasted with his proposal, made
three years before, to encourage
illiterate peasants to participate in
this work,

66. Diskussionnyi Sbornik, p. 53.

67. Bukharin and Preobrazhen-
sky, Azbuka Kommunizma, p. 193,
comment on the destruction of cap-
italist discipline and assert that it
is impossible to think of Communist
construction without new discipline,
similar to that of the Red Army.

68. "How to Organize Competi-
tion," January 7-10, 1918, Selected
Works, IX, 417.

69. "Doklad na II Vserossiiskom
s'ezde professional'nykh soiuzov"
(Speech at the Second All-Russian
Congress of Trade Unions), Janu-
ary 20, 1919, Sochineniya (2d ed.),
XXIII, 490-491.

Mythology of Status

445

70. "Report of the Central Com-
mittee at the Ninth Congress of the
Russian Communist Party (Bolshe-
viks)," Selected Works, VIII, 93.

71. See Lenin, Sochineniya (2d
ed.), XXIII, 591 (notes), where
the resolution is quoted.

72. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), I, 398.

73. Trotsky, "Rech' na III
Vserossiiskom s'ezde professional'-
nykh soiuzov" (Speech at the Third
All-Russian Congress of Trade
Unions), Sochineniya, XV, 198.

74. Ibid., p. 180.

75. Ibid., p. 181.

76. Ibid., p. 201.

77. Gordon, Workers Before and
After Lenin, pp. 81-82; Trotsky,
My Life, pp. 464-466.

' 78. "The Trade Unions, the
Present Situation and the Mistakes
of Comrade Trotsky," Selected
Works, IX, 9-10.

79. Ibid., pp. 4-7.

80. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
( 4th ed.), 1,495.

81. Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.),
XXVII, 515 (notes).

82. Ibid., pp. 148-149; see also
p. 150.

83. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), I, 496,

84. XVI S'ezd VKP(b), p. 63.

85. Ibid.

86. Ibid., p. 646.

87. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), II, 662.

88. Bukharin and Preobrazhen-
sky, Azbuka Kommunizma, p. 193.

89. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed.), I, 329-330.

90. Ibid., p. 337.

91. Bergson, Structure of Soviet
Wages, p. 181.

92. See Tomsky's theses for the
Ninth Party Congress. Text in
Lenin, Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXV,

546, from Ekonomicheskaya Zhizn,
no. 54, March 10, 1920.

93. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(4th ed), I, 389.

94. "The New Economic Policy
and the Tasks of the Political Educa-
tion Departments," October 17,
1921, Selected Works, IX, 265.

95. Bergson, Structure of Soviet
Wages, p. 10.

96. Ibid., p. 227, table.

97. Ibid., p. 70.

98. Rosenberg, Geschichte des
Bolschewismus, p. 229, citing
Nagler, Die Finanzen und die Wah-
rung der Sowjet-Union (Berlin,
1932), p. 40, and Zeitschrift der
Handelsvertretung, Nr. 16 (1930),
pp. 53fL

99. Decree, "On the Regulation
of Working Activity and Income
of Communists," Izvestiya TsK
VKP(b), no. 13 (May 15, 1929),
p. 28. There is some question about
whether or not the maximum was
subsequently abolished by a secret
Party directive. It was never in-
cluded in the Party bylaws, as im-
plied by the Webbs. Writing in
1935, the Webbs still attributed
much force to the Party version of
the vow of poverty. See their Soviet
Communism, I, 348-350.

100. Dobb, Russian Economic
Development, pp. 326-327, 392.

101. XV Konferentsiya VKP(b),
p. 284.

102. Ibid., p. 802.

103. Bergson, Structure of Soviet
Wages, p. 187.

104. "The Tasks of Business Ex-
ecutives," speech delivered at the
First All-Union Conference of Man-
agers of Socialist Industry, February
4, 1931, in Problems of Leninism, p.
359.

105. "New Conditions-New Tasks
in Economic Construction/* speech

446

Notes to Chapters 8 and 9

delivered at a conference of business 107. "Communism strives for

executives, June 23, 1931, in Prob- equality of incomes." Bukharin and

lems of Leninism, p. 368. Preobrazhensky, Azbuka Kommu-

106. Ibid., pp. 371-372. nizma, p. 196.

CHAPTER 9: REVOLUTION AND WORLD POLITICS

1. Modern analyses of the bal-
ance of power may be found in
Morgenthau, Politics Among Na-
tions, parts IV, VII; Lasswell,
World Politics, chap, iii; Spykman,
America's Strategy in World Poli-
tics, part I.

2. Perhaps the clearest statement
by Lenin on projected post-revolu-
tionary tactics may be found in "The
United States of Europe Slogan,"
written in 1915, Selected Works,
V, 141. See also Chapter 2 above.

3. Decree of Peace, November
8, 1917, text in Barbusse (ed.),
Soviet Union and Peace, pp. 22-25.

4. Fainsod, International Social-
ism, p. 167.

5. Ibid., pp. 168-171. On the
strike, see also Borkenau, Com-
munist International, pp. 91ff.

6. "War and Peace," report de-
livered to the Seventh Congress of
the Russian Communist Party,
March 7, 1918, Selected Works, VII,
297.

7. Quoted by Lenin in "Speech
in Reply to the Debate on the Re-
port on War and Peace," delivered
at the Seventh Congress of the
Party, March 8, 1918, Selected
Works, VII, 307.

8. From a declaration to the
Central Committee of the Party by
a group of its members and People's
Commissars, February 23, 1918,
reproduced from the archives of
the Central Committee in Lenin,
Sochineniya (2d ed.), XXII, 558-
559.

9. "War and Peace," p. 291.

10. Ibid., p. 303.

11. "Speech in Reply to Debate
on War and Peace," p. 310.

12. L. Fischer, Soviets in World
Affairs, I, 62.

13. Ibid., p. 128.

14. "Doklad o vneshnei politike
na ob'edinennom zasedanii VTsIK i
Moskovskogo soveta" (Speech on
Foreign Policy at a Joint Session of
the All-Russian Central Executive
Committee and the Moscow Soviet),
May 14, 1918, Sochineniya (2d ed.),
XXIII, 4, 5.

15. Ibid., pp. 13-14.

16. "Rech* o mezhdunarodnom

folozhenii 8 noyabrya 1918 goda"
Speech on the International Situa-
tion of November 8, 1918), Sochine-
niya (2ded.), XXIII, 261.

17. Trotsky, "Mezhdunarodnaya
obstanovka" (The International Sit-
uation), Kak Vooruzhalas' Revoltu-
tsiya, I, 372.

18. Ibid., p. 370.

19. JofFe boasted publicly of
these actions. See L. Fischer,
Soviets in World Affairs, I, 75-76.

20. Borkenau, Communist Inter-
national, p. 150. The radio message
to the Munich regime may be found
in Communist International, no. 1
(May 1, 1919), p. 90.

21. See "Letter from Comrade
B61a Kun to Comrade Lenin/* Com-
munist International no. 2 (June 1,
1919), p, 225; also the account in
Borkenau, Communist International^
chap. vi.

22. L. Fischer, Soviets in World
Affairs, I, 268-270.

Revolution and World Politics

447

23. Zetkin, Erinnerungen an
Lenin, pp. 20-21.

24. See Kliuchnikov and Sabanin,
Mezhdunarodnaya Politika, part III,
section i, p. 30.

25. Lenin's criticisms of the pro-
grammatic statements and actions
of the European Communist Parties
in the appendix to his famous "Left
Wing Communism, An Infantile
Disorder," published in May 1920,
throw much light on the loose Party
relations of that time and Lenin s
objections thereto. See his Selected
Works, X, 148-158.

26. II Kongress KI, p. 193.

27. "Left Wing Communism,"
Selected Works, X, 58.

28. Ibid., p. 60. See also II Kon-
gress KI, pp. 57, 63.

29. Text of the Twenty-One Con-
ditions in II Kongress KI, pp. 560-
567. They have since been fre-
quently republished.

30. For a detailed analysis of
Comintern policy and statements,
using statistical procedures, see
chapters xi and xii by Nathan Leites
and I. de Sola Pool in Lasswell and
others, Language of Politics. Chap-
ter x, by Sergius Yakobson and
Lasswell, deals with the May Day
slogans of the Communist Party of
the Soviet Union in a similar man-
ner.

31. IV Vsemirnyi Kongress KI,
pp. 37, 28.

32. Ibid., pp. 31-32.

33. The clearest illustration of
the actual procedure from the point
of view of an insider may be found
in Clara Zetkin's record of her con-
versations with Lenin in 1921. See
her Erinnerungen, pp. 24ff.

34. See the account in Borkenau,
Communist International, pp. 214-
220, and that of a participant, Ruth
Fischer, Stalin ana German Com-
munism, pp. 174-178, as well as

Protokoll des III. Kongresses der
KI, esp. p. 555, where Karl Radek
is accused of initiating the revolt.
The other accounts attribute the ini-
tiative to Bela Kun.

35. See "The Political Activities
of the Central Committee," report
delivered at the Tenth Congress of
the Russian Communist Party,
March 8, 1921, Selected Works, IX,
95, 97; Zetkin, Erinnerungen, p. 31.

36. "Report on the World Eco-
nomic Crisis and the New Tasks of
the Communist International," in
Trotsky, First Five Years of the
CI, I, 254.

37. Ibid., p. 223.

38. Ibid., pp. 208, 206.

39. Ibid., pp. 174, 176, 224, 260.

40. Ibid., p. 224.

41. "The International and In-
ternal Position of the Soviet Repub-
lic," report delivered at a meeting
of the Communist fraction of the
Ail-Russian Congress of Metal
Workers' Union, March 6, 1922,
Selected Works, IX, 306.

42. "Political Report of the Cen-
tral Committee to the Eleventh Con-
gress of the Russian Communist
Party," March 27, 1922, Selected
Works, IX, 327.

43. Rubinshtein, Sovetskaya Ros-
siya i Kapitalisticheskie Gosudar-
stva, p. 298. In general, this source
must be used with extreme caution,
since it is careful to avoid mention-
ing the role of any Soviet diplomats
who later became identified with
Trotsky. Joffe and Rakovsky are not
referred to at all.

44. Soviets in World Afairs, I,
331.

45. Ibid., pp, 320, 326, 327.

46. Ibid., p. 464.

47. From the text of Chicherin's
speech in Kliuchnikov and Sabanin,
Mezhdunarodnaya Politika, part III,
section i, p. 170.

448

Notes to Chapter 9

48. See the account in Miliukov,
La Politique Extfrieure des Soviets,
pp. 92, 101, 102, and L. Fischer,
Soviets in World Affairs, I, 337, 339-
342.

49. Quoted by L. Fischer from
the Berliner Tageblatt, October 2,
1925, in Soviets in World Affairs, II,
593.

50. L. Fischer, Soviets in World
Affairs, II, 595-596.

51. Ibid., pp. 600-601.

52. Ibid., pp. 608-609.

53. Miliukov, La Politique Ex-
terieure des Soviets, chap. xi. On
Persia, see Lenczowski, Russia and
the West in Iran, pp. 52-59, and
chap, iv; on Turkey, L. Fischer,
Soviets in World Affairs, I, 400-
410, and II, 729.

54. See Barbusse, Soviet Union
and Peace, parts III and IV.

55. Litvinov's proposal at the
Moscow Disarmament Conference,
December 2, 1922, ibid., p. 115.

56. Godovoi Otchet Narodnogo
Kommissariata po Inostrannym
Delam za 1924 g., p. 5.

57. IV Vsemirnyi Kongress KI,
pp. 195-196.

58. The evidence of Politburo
control is clear. According to Stalin,
the German Commission of the
Comintern, including Zinoviev, Bu-
kharin, Trotsky, Radek, and himself,
reached a number of concrete deci-
sions concerning "direct help to the
German comrades in the matter of
the seizure of power/* See Stalin,
"Po povodu 'zayavleniya' oppozitsii
ot 8 avgusta 1927" (On the Occa-
sion of die "Declaration" of the Op-
position of August 8, 1927), speeches
at the sessions of the Combined
Plenum of the Central Committee
and the Central Control Commis-
sion of the CPSU, August 5 and
9, 1927, first published with some
abridgments in his Ob Oppozitsii,

p. 685. Further evidence may be
found in the account of a former
German Left Communist, who par-
ticipated in some of the preliminary
discussions in Moscow; see R.
Fischer, Stalin and German Com-
munism, pp. 321 and 325, the lat-
ter page giving a revealing telegram
of instructions. Nevertheless, Mos-
cow did not dictate the decisions,
but gave interpretations and sug-
gestions which the Germans were
under considerable pressure to fol-
low.

59. Zinoviev, Probleme der Deut-
schen Revolution, pp. 95-96.

60. Some of the details of the
negotiations may be found in the
papers of the chief of the Reichs-
wehr, Hans von Seeckt. See von
Rabenau, Seeckt, pp. 305-320.

61. See the letter by Stalin
quoted in R. Fischer, Stalin and
German Communism, p. 306.

62. See Ob Oppozitsii, p. 685.

63. R. Fischer, Stalin and Ger-
man Communism, p. 321.

64. Text in Russian Information
and Review, published by the in-
formation Department of the Rus-
'sian Trade Delegation (London,
October 20, 1923), p. 243.

65. Dallin, Rise of Russia in
Asia, chap. vii.

66. Quoted by Yakhontoff, Chi-
nese Soviets, p. 71. This book gives
a strictly pro-Soviet account of
events, but has a great deal of valu-
able material from inaccessible
Soviet printed sources.

67. XV S'ezd VKP(b), p. 601.

68. Trotsky, Problems of the
Chinese Revolution, pp. 28, 48-59.
This is a collection of contemporary
opposition documents and state-
ments by Trotsky and others.

69. Ibid., p. 70. See also Anglo-
Sovetskie Otnosheniya, sections XI
and XII. China figures more promi-

Theory of Equality

449

nently in the Soviet communica-
tions than in the British ones.

70. The leftward steps in Comin-
tern policy may be traced in Kom-
munisticheskii Internatsional v
Dokumentakh, pp. 621-623, 671-
673, 719-728. See also Stalin, "O
perspektivakh revoliutsii v Kitae"

(On Perspectives of Revolution in
China), speech of November 30,
1926, to the Executive Committee
of the CI, Sochineniya, VIII, 357-
374.

71. Borkenau, Communist Inter-
national, pp. 319, 321-322, and
Yakhontoff, Chinese Soviets, p. 77.

CHAPTER 10: THEORY OF EQUALITY

1. These contacts are mentioned
in Ciliga, Au Pays du Grand Men-
songe, p. 171. Ciliga is a former
Yugoslav Communist who became
disillusioned with the Soviet regime
and was imprisoned for opposition
activities.

2. See the remarks in lubileinaya
Sessiya Akademii Nauk, p. 121,
where it is said: "Our epoch has re-
ceived a general scientific explana-
tion . . . and its laws have been
formulated in the works of Joseph
Vissarionovich Stalin."

3. "The Results of the First Five
Year Plan," January 7, 1933, Prob-
lems of Leninism, p. 437.

4. Problems of Leninism, p. 518.

5. Ibid., p. 571.

6. Ibid., p. 569.

7. Ibid., pp. 578, 579.

8. Ibid., p. 579.

9. See, for instance, Osnovy
Sovetskogo Gosudarstva i Prava, p.
199.

10. "Report to the Eighteenth
Congress of the CPSU(b)," Prob-
lems of Leninism, p. 662.

11. "Speech at the First All-
Union Conference of Stakhanovites,"
November 17, 1935, Problems of
Leninism, p. 552.

12. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress of the CPSU(b)," Prob-
lems of Leninism, pp. 506-507.

13. Pravda, September 21, 1946.

14. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress of the CPSU(b)," p. 537.

15. "Speech at the First Ail-
Union Conference of Stakhanovites,"
November 17, 1935, p. 553.

16. Schlesinger, Soviet Legal
Theory, p. 208.

17. O Nedostatkakh Partiinoi
Raboty, a pamphlet containing
Stalin's speech and concluding re-
marks at the Plenum of the Central
Committee of the CPSU(b), March
3-5, 1937, p. 33.

18. VKP(b) v Rezoliutsiyakh
(6th ed.), II, 672-677.

19. Schlesinger, Soviet Legal
Theory, p. 238.

20. For a valuable general study
of this aspect of political ideologies
and its relationship to childhood ex-
periences, see De Grazia, Political
Community.

21. Many examples of such mate-
rials from the Soviet press may be
found in Bazili, Rossiya pod Sovet-
skoi Vlast'iu, pp. 156-166. English
and French translations of this little-
known and very useful work are
available.

22. It is worth noting that these
admissions, referring to Stalin's
position in favor of mere pressure
on the Provisional Government be-
fore Lenin's return in April 1917,
are reprinted in a postwar collection
of Stalin's writings and speeches.
See Stalin, "Trotskizm Hi Lenin-
izm?" speech at the Plenum of the
Communist Fraction of the All-
Union Council of Trade Unions,

450

Notes to Chapter 10

November 19, 1924, Sochineniya,
VI, 333. Yet no Soviet writer of
history would dare to bring this in-
cident out today in a report of these
events. The official Party history,
published for the first time in 1938,
in whose writing Stalin is said to
have participated, gives an exactly
opposite account, placing Stalin and
Molotov on the same side of the
fence as Lenin. See the account of
the April 1917 Party Conference in
History of the CPSU(b), p. 183.
The same is done in the official
biography of Stalin published
toward the end of the Second
World War. See the anonymous
Stalin, Kratkaya Biografiya, p. 24.

23. Report of Court Proceedings
in the Case of the Anti-Soviet Trot-
skyite Centre, p. 85.

24. O Nedostatkakh Partiinoi
Raboty, p. 21.

25. XIV S'ezd VKP(b), p. 502.

26. History of the CPSU(b), p.
305. Italics in original.

27. O Nedostatkakh Partiinoi
Raboty, p. 43.

28. Speech of March 2, 1930,
Problems of Leninism, p. 338.

29. "Demokraticheskii Tsentral-
izm," Kratkaya Sovetskaya Entsiklo-
pediya, p. 423.

30. Osnovy Sovetskogo Gosudar*
stva i Prava, p. 29.

31. "Samokritika" (Self-criticism),
Kratkaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya,
p. 1280. See also Inkeles, Public
Opinion, chap. xiv.

32. Osnovy Sovetskogo Gosudar-
stva i Prava, p. 28.

33. Zhdanov, Izmeneniya v
Ustave VKP(b), pp. 31-34.

34. O Nedostatkakh Partiinoi Ra-
boty, p. 42.

35. Problems of Leninism, pp.
550-551.

36. Mosca, Ruling Class, p. 139.

37. Among the more illuminating

analyses are the following: Dallin,
The Real Soviet Russia, chaps, vi-
xi, anti-Soviet but with numerous
shrewd hypotheses; Timasheff,
Great Retreat, chap, x, whose con-
clusions are at times more precise
than the data warrant; Yugow, Rus-
sia's Economic Front, chaps, ix and
x, for data on economic aspects of
the problem; Bienstock, Schwarz,
and Yugow, Management, chap, ix,
on factory managers; S. and B.
Webb, Soviet Communism, II, 795-
796, for standard pro-Soviet inter-
pretation; Yvon, Z/C7.R.S.S., with
much firsthand cultural data,
though anti-Soviet, passim; Trotsky,
Revolution Betrayed, esp. pp. 102,
125, 133-134, 155-156, where naive
equalitarianism is combined with
curious insight into social relation-
ships.

38. Ashby, Scientist in Russia,
pp. 63-64. On the state labor re-
serves, see also Shore, Soviet Educa-
tion, pp. 212-214.

39. Bergson, Structure of Soviet
Wages, pp. 109-111, 113-114. For
texts of the decrees on tuition fees
and labor reserves, see pp. 234-
235, 236-238.

40. See Ashby, Scientist in Rus-
sia, pp. 71-73; Bienstock, Schwarz,
and Yugow, Management, pp. 111-
112.

41. See Chapter 8.

42. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress of the CPSU(b)," Prob-
lems of Leninism, pp. 521-522.

43. "Address to the Graduates
from the Red Army Academies/*
ibid., p. 543.

44. Ibid., p. 544.

45. Pravda, September 24, 1947,
carries pictorial reproductions of
the various insignia.

46. Pravda, September 19, 1947.

47. Problems of Leninism, p. 521.

48. Stalin, "On the Draft Con-

Organization of Authority

451

stitution of the USSR," report de-
livered at the Extraordinary Eighth
Congress of Soviets of the USSR,
November 25, 1936, Problems of
Leninism, pp. 564-565; "Sotsializm
i Kommunizm" ( Socialism and Com-
munism), Kratkaya Sovetskaya En-
tsiklopediya, pp. 1367-1371.

49. Problems of Leninism, p. 581.
The argument that the intelligentsia
is not a class is not confined to
Leninist or Communist doctrine.

50. Kovalev, "Intelligentsiya v
sovetskom gosudarstve," BoFshevik,
no. 2 (January 1946), p. 33.

51. "SSSR, Naseleniye" (USSR,
Population), Kratkaya Sovetskaya
Entsiklopediya, p. 1382. The total
population of the USSR, according
to these figures, was 169,500,000.

52. XVIII S'ezd VKP(fe), p. 310.
His statement includes breakdown
by categories.

53. Problems of Leninism, p. 572.

54. See Littlepage and Bess,
Soviet Gold, pp. 7, 8, 13.

55. "Trud" (Labor), Kratkaya
Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, p. 1561.

56. "Speech at the First All-
Union Conference of Stakhanovites,"
Problems of Leninism, pp. 548-549.

57. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, p. 228.

58. Problems of Leninism, p. 549.

59. One interesting, though not
conclusive, attempt to measure such
changes in industry is by Schwarz
in Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yugow,
Management, chap. ix. Without stat-

ing his specific sources, the author
concludes (p. 122) that manual
workers no longer have significant
prospects of rising to industrial
leadership.

60. "Narodnoye obrazovaniye"
(Popular Education), Bol'shaya
Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, pp. 1228,
1232, 1233. "Iz zakona o pyati-
letnem plane vosstanovleniya i
razvitiya narodnogo khozyaistva
SSSR na 1946-1950 gg." (From the
Law on the Five Year Plan for the
Restoration and Development of the
National Economy of the USSR for
1946-1950), Direktivy VKP (b) o
Narodnom Obrazovanii, I, 76.

61. Au Pays du Grand Mensonge,
p. 89.

62. For numerous similar observa-
tions, see also the account of a Swiss
schoolteacher who lived for many
years in Siberia: Jucker, Erlebtes
Russland.

63. Some good observations on
these points may be found in Yvon,
L'U.R.S.S., pp. 162-163. An amus-
ing but revealing incident in a
modern Soviet play reflects the man-
ner in which Marxist-Stalinist doc-
trine may justify status differences.
When a girl comments on the luxury
of the appointments in the apart-
ment of a promising architect, he
replies, "Excuse me, what sort of
luxury is that? From each according
to his abilities, and to each accord-
ing to his labor" ("Uspekh" [Suc-
cess], in Yal'tsev, Malen'kie P'esy).

CHAPTER 11: ORGANIZATION OF AUTHORITY

1. White, Grourth of the Red
Army, p. 388, citing V. Nikolsky,
"Velikii razgrom" (The Great De-
struction )> Chasovoi (The Sentinel),
February 1, 1939. Nikolsky's figures
may be an underestimate. A com-

parison of the Central Committee
memberships at the Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Congresses shows that
fifty-five of the names given in the
first list do not occur in the second.
However, at least three of these

452

Notes to Chapter 11

persons, Kirov, Ordzhonikidze, and
Lenin's widow, Krupskaya, died of
causes other than the purge.

2. See sections V and VI and the
Party statutes. According to Pravda,
September 26, 1946, the Party was
composed of the following units: 15
Party organizations of the Union
Republics; 6 krai organizations; 154
oblast* organizations; 11 okrug or-
ganizations; 489 city organizations;
514 city rayon organizations; 4,238
village rayon organizations; over
250,000 primary organizations.

3. See, for instance, the account
by Nazarov, secretary of SokoFni-
cheskii rayon committee of Moscow,
"Otchetnost"' PartUnoye StroiteV-
stvo, no. 9 (May 1, 1938), pp. 48-
49.

4. Rodionov, secretary of the
Gorky oblast' committee of the
CPSU, "Otchety i vybory," PartU-
noye Stroitel'stvo, nos. 5-6 (March
1940), p. 50.

5. "Nekotorye itogi vyborov,"
Bol'shevik, no. 10 (May 15, 1937),
p, 6.

6. Borisov, "Mestnye organy
gosudarstvennoi vlasti," Sovetskoye
Gosudarstvo i Pravo, no. 12 (1947),
p. 18.

7. Mandelshtam, Rebrov, and
Tumanov, Vybory v Mestnye Sovety,
pp. 50, 51.

8. Ibid., p. 51.

9. "Beseda tovarishcha Stalina
s . . . gospodinom Roy Govardom,"
Bor$hevik, no. 6 (March 15, 1936),
p. 8.

10. Maynard, Russian Peasant, p.
437.

11. Kalinin, Stat'i i Rechi, p. 271.

12. Pravda, January 7, 1948.

13. Pravda, December 27, 1947.

14. Embassy of the USSR, In-
formation Bulletin, March 12, 1946,

15. Mandel, "Democratic Aspects
of Soviet Government Today,"

American Sociological Review, June
1944, p. 262.

16. Zhdanov, "Doklad na ple-
nume TsK VKP(b)," Bol'shevik
nos. 5-6 (March 15, 1937), p. 12.

17. Ibid., p. 14.

18. Problems of Leninism, p. 533.

19. XVIII S'ezd VKP(b), p. 30.
Partiinoye Stroitel'stvo, no. 13 (July
1939), p. 6. The best study in Eng-
lish of the cadres problem is Nemzer,
"The Kremlin's Professional Staff,"
American Political Science Review,
March 1950, pp. 64^85, which ap-
peared when this book was in
press.

20. Partiinoye StroiteFstvo, nos.
19-20 (October 1938), p. 78.

21. Pravda, August 23, 1946.

22. Speech by Malenkov in
XVIII S'ezd VKP(b), p. 149.

23. Kaganovich, "O vnutripartii-
noi rabote," Bol'shevik, no. 21 (No-
vember 15, 1934), p. 10.

24. A recent discussion of the
general entrance requirements may
be found in Pravda, September 9,
1946.

25. SSSR Strana Sotsializma, p.
94, for 1936 figures.

26. See the extremely careful and
detailed study by White, Growth of
the Red Army, pp. 367-368.

27. XVIII S'ezd VKP(b), p. 515.

28. Ibid.

29. Speech by Shatalin at the
Eighteenth Party Conference, in
Bor$hevik, nos. $-4 (February
1941), p. 56.

30. Pravda, September 9, 1946.

31. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Pervaya Sessiya), March
12-19, 1946, pp. 39, 30.

32. Pravda, January 30, 1939, and
February 1, 1939, contain the theses.

33. "Obzor predlozhenii k tez-
isam doklada tov. Zhdanova,"
Partiinoye StroiteTatuo, no. 5
(March 1939), p. 45.

Bureaucratic State

453

34. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Pervaya Sessiya),
March 12-19, 1946, pp. 82-84, 328-
334.

35. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Vtoraya Sessiya), Oc-
tober 15-18, 1946, pp. 272-288.

36. Nazi-Soviet Relations, p. 65.

37. Ibid., p. 96.

38. Ibid., p. 99.

39. Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, p.
281.

40. Deane, Strange Alliance, p.
43.

41. "Reply to Collective Farm
Comrades," April 3, 1930, Problems
of Leninism, pp. 346-347.

42. Stalin, Kratkaya Biografiya, p.
74.

43. Kaganovich, "Ob Apparate
TsK VKP(b)," Partiinoye Stroitel'-
stvo, no. 2 (February 1930), p.
10.

44. Socialism Victorious, p. 235.

45. Barmine, One Who Survived,
pp. 212, 218, 228.

46. Socialism Victorious, pp.
239ff.

47. Pravda, June 25, 1943.

48. For the general operations of
this system, see Partiinoye Stroitel'-
stvo, nos. 23-24 (December 1940),
pp. 71-72, and no. 21 (November
1940), p. 67.

49. As quoted in Izvestiya, June
15, 1947.

50. Quoted in Izvestiya, June 7,
1946.

51. Borisov, "Mestnye organy
gosudarstvennoi vlasti," Sovetskoye
Gosudarstvo i Pravo, no. 12 (1947),
p. 12.

52. "KommunaTnoye Khozyai-
stvo" (Communal Economy), Krat-
kaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya, p.
670.

53. Pravda, January 16, 1948,
gives a good description of the func-
tions of the local Soviets.

54. Maynard, Russian Peasant,
pp. 451-452.

55. Izvestiya, July 17, 1947.

56. July 17, 1947.

57. Izvestiya, June 15, 1947.

58. Borisov, "Mestnye organy
gosudarstvennoi vlasti," Sovetskoye
Gosudarstvo i Pravo, no. 12 (1947),
pp. 10-11.

59. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Pervaya Sessiya),
March 12-19, 1946, pp. 30, 39.

60. Pravda, December 27, 1947.

61. Denisov, Sovety, p. 41.

62. Abramov and Aleksandrov,
Partiya, p. 101.

63. Ibid., p. 100.

64. Professor Timasheff points to
what seems to be the last instance
of a popular check on the makers
of policy, when the Seventeenth
Party Congress of 1934 reduced the
sights for the next Five Year Plan.
See his Great Retreat, p. 369.

65. Pravda, August 9, 1946.

66. Pravda, July 11, 1946.

67. Izvestiya, June 18, 1947.

CHAPTER 12: BUREAUCRATIC STATE

1. Evtikhiev and Vlasov, Ad-
ministrativnoye Pravo, p. 47.

2. Ibid., pp. 49-50.

3. Ibid., p. 52.

4. Davidov, "Naseleniye," BoZ'-
shaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediija, p.
68, American figures are based upon

Historical Statistics of the U.S., pp.
26, 295.

5. Kratkaya Sovetskaya Entsi-
klopediya, p. 1382. What propor-
tion of the manual laborers is made
up by forced labor or the inhab-
itants of the Soviet concentration

454

Notes to Chapter 12

camps it is almost impossible to say.
Dallin has estimated that the total
is somewhere between 7,000,000
and 12,000,000, or about 16 per
cent of all adult males. See Dallin
and Nicolaevsky, Forced Labor, pp.
86-87. While the lesser of these
two figures is at least a distinct pos-
sibility, it would seem that even
this figure may be too large, since
it represents a very heavy deduc-
tion from the free population, which
is economically much more produc-
tive than the inhabitants of the labor
camps.

6. Evtikhiev and Vlasov, Ad-
ministrativnoye Pravo, p. 43.

7. Ibid., p. 63.

8. Ibid., p. 57.

9. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress of the CPSU(b)," Prob-
lems of Leninism, p. 531.

10. April 27, 1946.

11. Izvestiya, August 11, 1946.

12. Ibid.

13. Pravda, December 27, 1946.

14. Evtikhiev and Vlasov, Ad-
ministrativnoye Pravo, p. 41.

15. Many details on the opera-
tions of the "instructors" can be
found in Khmelevsky, "O nekotorykh
voprosakh raboty apparata par-
tiinykh komitetov," Bol'shevik, no.
23 (December 15, 1948), pp. 32-
41. For a brief survey of Party
and soviet control organs, see
Towster, Political Power, pp. 169-
175.

16. Izvestiya, May 24, 1946. See
also issue of June 11, 1946, for the
relationship in practice between the
local Soviets and an enterprise op-
erated by an Ail-Union Ministry on
their territory.

17. On this point see my article,
"CPSU: 1928-1944," American So-
ciological Review, June 1944, p.
271. According to Pravda, Decem-
ber 14, 1946, "The local organs of

the Party— republic, krai, oblast',
city and rat/on—are the most im-
portant link in the Party's leader-
ship. These are the organs that
direct, unite, and control the entire
work in the republic, krai, oblast',
and rayon"

18. Bienstock, Schwarz, and
Yugow, Management, pp. 9-10.

19. Identical complaints are made
in the editorial columns of Pravda,
March 4, 1948.

20. From a report of the com-
bined oblast' and city conference of
the Leningrad Party organization,
Pravda, December 25, 1948.

21. Pravda, October 27, 1946.

22. A detailed article on the ac-
tivities of the primary organization
may be found in Pravda, January
16, 1949.

23. From my article, "CPSU:
1928-1944," pp. 274-275, where
several additional cases are given.

24. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, p. 152.

25. Pravda, October 27, 1946.
For further data on the social or-
ganization of the kolkhoz, see Chap-
ter 15.

26. Pravda, October 27, 1946.

27. Ibid.

28. Scott, Behind the Urals, pp.
80-81, 152, describes the situation
in the great steel plant of Magnito-
gorsk on the basis of firsthand ob-
servation. There the plant director
was "supreme commander" and re-
lations with the local Party organiza-
tion were harmonious.

29. Pravda, August 29, 1946.

30. Concerning this problem dur-
ing the earlier period of the regime's
history, see Chapter 8.

31. Pravda, September 12, 1946.

32. Pravda, August 7, 1946.

33. Ibid.

34. Khmelevsky, "O nekotorykh
voprosakh raboty apparata par-

Industrial Order

455

tiinykh komitetov," Bol'shevik, no.
23 (December 15, 1948), p. 36.

35. Quoted in New York Times,
November 21, 1946,

36. Pravda, June 14, 1947.

37. On the efforts to introduce

these qualities via the school sys-
tem there is much valuable informa-
tion in Raskin, Vospitaniye Distsi-
plinirovannosti, a teachers' handbook
issued by the Ministry of Educa-
tion of the RSFSR.

CHAPTER 13: INDUSTRIAL ORDER

1. We follow here with some
variations the argument of Knight,
Economic Organization.

2. See 'Political Economy in tJie
Soviet Union. The translator of this
work is not responsible for the mis-
interpretations in the American
press. For a postwar restatement of
the Marxist view with special at-
tention to the limitations and neces-
sities imposed by socialism, see
Leont'ev, "K voprosam politicheskoi
ekonomii sotsializma," Planovoye
Khozyaistvo, no. 6 (1947), pp. 47-
61.

3. Dobb, Soviet Economic De-
velopment, p. 341.

4. Sorokin, Sotsialisticheskoye
Planirovaniye, p. 84.

5. Ibid.; "Gosudarstvennyi Komi-
tet Oborony" (Government Defense
Committee;, Kratkaya Sovetskaya
Entsiklopediya, p. 373.

6. Among the most useful works
are Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yugow,
Management, chap, iv; Bettclheim,
La Planification Sovi6tique, chap,
iii; Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, chap, xx;
and Prokopovicx, Rusulands Volks~
wirtschaft, pp. 255-283,

7. Sorokin, Sotsialisticheskoye
Plantrovaniye, chap, v,

8. V. D'yachenko, "Khozraschet
kak metod planovogo rukovodstva
sotsialisticheslcim khozyaistvom"
(Business Accountability as a
Method of Planned Management in
a Socialist Economy), Izvestiya,
April 4, 1946,

9. A tax applied when goods
enter consumption channels. See pp.
310-311 for further details.

10. Izvestiya, April 4, 1946.

11. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Vtoraya Sessiya), Oc-
tober 15-18, 1946, p. 10.

12. Venediktov, Gosudarstven-
nay a Sotsialisticheskaya Sobstven-
nofrt', pp. 363-364.

13. Ibid., p. 368, citing the Rus-
sian edition of Marx's Collected
Works, XVIII, 168, 239-240.

14. Venediktov, Gosudarstvennaya
Sotsialiyticheskaya Sobstvennost', pp.
370-371.

15. Ibid., p. 372.

16. Ibid.f p. 375.

17. Izvestiya, April 4, 1946. More
details on the degree of control
exercised by the individual plant
over basic resources may be found
in Venediktov, Gosudarstvennaya
Sotsialistichcskaya Sobstvennost', p.
378.

18. Bicnstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, pp. 58-59.

19. Izvestiya, April 4, 1946.

20. Vladimirov, "Za rentabeF-
nuyu rabotu prcdpriyatii," Voprosy
Ekonomiki, no. 8 (1948), p. 27.

21. Izoestiya, April 4, 1946.

22. Dobb, Soviet Economic De-
velopment, p, 354,

23. Vladimirov, "Za rentabel'nuyu
rabotu predpriyatii," p. 30.

24. Bogolepov, Sovetskaya Finan-
sovaya Sistema, p. 13.

2^. Sobraniye Postanovlenii, no.
14 (December 27, 1948), section

456

'Notes to Chapter 13

272. The decree itself is dated De-
cember 5, 1946.

26. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, pp. 94-95.

27. S. and B. Webb, Soviet Com-
munism, II, 740.

28. "Sorevnovaniye Sotsialistiches-
koye" ( Socialist Competition ) ,
Kratkaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopediya,
pp. 1365-1366.

29. For complaints about this in
the Soviet press, see Gordon, Work-
ers Before and After Lenin, pp. 406-
408.

30. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Vtoraya Sessiija), Oc-
tober 15-18, 1946, p. 32.

31. "Peredovaya — rezhim ekon-
omii," Bol'shevik, nos. 23-24 (De-
cember 1946), p. 7. Since Bol'shevik
is the organ of the Party Central
Committee, its unsigned editorial
introductions carry special signifi-
cance.

32. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, conclude (p. 75)
that "the difference between Soviet
labor efficiency and that of England
and Germany is diminishing, al-
though Soviet is still very far from
American efficiency." While it is
not possible with the available data
to separate managerial from labor
efficiency, it is likely that the con-
clusion applies to the former as well
as to the latter. As partial evidence
for their conclusion, the writers
point to the fact that the annual out-
put of coal in tons per basic worker
in 1929 and 1937 was respectively
179 and 370 in the USSR, 323 and
435 in Germany, 844 and 730 in the
United States. Likewise, the annual
output of pig iron per blast furnace
worker in 1929 and 1937 was re-
spectively 240 and 756 tons in
Russia, and 1729 and 1620 tons in
the United States. Improved mana-
gerial techniques no doubt played

a role in the increase in Soviet out-
put per worker.

33. Quoted by L. Valler, "Sbere-
zheniya naseleniya v SSSR" (The
Savings of the Population in the
USSR), Finansy SSSR, p. 301.

34. For a study of the conse-
quences in terms of physical output
and a comparison of rates of in-
dustrial growth in Tsarist times, see
Gerschenkron, "Rate of Industrial
Growth," Journal of Economic His-
tory, supplement VII (1947), pp.
144-174.

35. K. Plotnikov, "Gosudarstven-
nyi biudzhet Sovetskogo Soiuza"
(The Government Budget of the
Soviet Union), Finansy SSSR, p. 140.

36. Dobb, Soviet Economic De-
velopment, p. 381. According to a
New York Times report of March 11,
1949, the proposed 1949 budget
allotted 79 billion rubles for capital
investment, in addition to which 25
billion rubles would be derived from
the enterprises' own funds.

37. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Pervatja Sessiya),
March 12-19, 1946, p. 58.

38. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, p. 85.

39. Zasedaniya Verkhovnogo So-
veta SSSR (Vtoraya Sewiya), Oc-
tober 15-18, 1946, p. 10.

40. G. Mar'yakhin, "Nalogovaya
sistema sovetskogo gosudarstva"
(Tax System of the Soviet Govern-
ment), Finansy SSSJR, pp, 273, 288.

41. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, pp. 84, 85, reports that nearly
all of the manufactured articles were
distributed through the government
stores and through the cooperatives,
which were in effect controlled by
the government through the Party.
More than 70 per cent of the agri-
cultural products went through the
same system. City trade was in the
hands of the government stores;

Class Struggle

457

rural trade was assigned to the con-
sumer cooperatives.

42. Dobb, Soviet Economic De-
velopment, p. 373. See also Vozne-
sensky, Voennaija Ekonomika SSSK,
p. 122.

43. Dobb, Soviet Economic De-
velopment, pp. 351-352.

44. Voznesensky, Voennaya Eko-
nomika SSSB, p. 129. These stores
were also abolished on December 16,
1947.

45. Ibid., p. 124.

46. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, p. 89.

47. S. and B. Webb, Soviet Com-
munism, I, 324.

48. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, pp. 90-91.

49. "Report on the Work of the
Central Committee to the Seven-
teenth Congress of the CPSU," Jan-
uary 28, 1934, Problems of Lenin-
ism, p. 512.

50. Ibid., p. 513.

51. The effect of the abolition of
these stores is not known.

52. Pravda, November 11, 1946;
Izvcstiya, November 12, 1946.

53. Pravda, March 1, 1948.

CHAPTER 14: CLASS STRUGGLE

1. N. Ritikov, "Sovctskie prof-
soiuzy" (Soviet Trade Unions),
Bolmaya Sovetskaya Entsiklopeditja,
pp. 1753-1754.

2. Sovetskoye Trudovoye Pravo,
pp. 121, 310, This volume was ap-
proved by the Sovnarkom (Council
of People's Commissars) committee
on higher education for use as a
textbook. Similar statements occur
from time to time in the Soviet press.

3. Ibid,, p. 126. Moskalenko,
"Pravovye voprosy kollclctivnogo
dogovora/' Professiond'nye Soiuzy,
no. 8 (August 1947), p. 16.

4. Sovctskoye Trudovotje Pravo,
pp. 2 J 2-213.

5. Ibid., p. 2117,

6. Ibid., p. 212.

7. On this point and on earlier
practices in the sotting of wage rates,
sec Dobb, Soviet Economic Develop-
ment, pp. 409-410.

8. V. V. Kuznctsov, "O za-
kliuchemi kolldktivnykh dogovorov
na 1947 god/' Profes$iona?nije
Soiuzy, no. 2 (February 1947), p. 6.

9. H'in, "O normirovanii truda
i organlzatsii zarabotnoi platy,"
ProfcsdonaTmj<i Soiuxy, no, 1 (Jan-
uary 1947 )> pp, 14-1&,

10. Amelin, "Posle otchetno-
vybornykh sobranii," Professional-
nye Soiuzy, no. 6 (June 1947), p.
20.

11. Moskalenko, "RoF profsoiu-
zov," Professional' nye Soiuzy, no. 4
(April 1947), p. 21. '

12. Sovetskoije Trudovoye Pravo,
p. 203.

13. A Tass announcement in Trud,
February 19, 1947, reported that
the Council of Ministers of the
USSR "approved, according to the
example of previous years, the sug-
gestions of the All-Union Central
Council of Trade Unions [AUCCTU]
concerning the conclusion in 1947
of collective agreements between
the administration of enterprises and
the factory committees of the
unions."

14. Decree of the Presidium of
the AUCCTU, Trud, March 16,
1947,

15. A recent decree of the
AUCCTU, not differing in any es-
sentials from the first one, which
sots out the types of questions
to be included in the agreement,
may be found in Trud, January 26,
1949.

458

Notes to Chapter 14

16. Al. Kuznetsov, "Kollektivnyi
dogovor v deistvii," Professionarnye
Soiuzy, no. 12 (December 1947),
p. 12.

17. V. V. Kuznetsov, Professionl'-
nye Soiuzy, no. 2 (February 1947),
pp. 8-9.

18. Ibid., pp. 3-4.

19. Amitin, "Uluchshif okhranu
truda," Professional' nye Soiuzy, no.
6 (June 1947), p. 17.

20. Gaisenok, "Voprosy oklirany
truda," Professionarnye Soiuzy, no.
2 (February 1947), pp. 14-16. See
also Trud, January 16, 1949.

21. V. V. Kuznetsov, Professionar-
nye Soiuzy, no. 2 (February 1947),
p. 7.

22. See Trud, May 21, 1946.

23. Trud, April 1, 1947.

24. Sovetskoye Trudovoye Pravo,
pp. 264-265, 268.

25. Ibid., pp. 268, 269.

26. Ibid., p. 270.

27. Ibid., p. 274.

28. Ibid., pp. 313-319. See also
the discussion by Harold Berman in
The Challenge of Soviet Law, part
III (in press; Harvard University
Press).

29. Kachnova, "O nekotorykh
voprosakh rukovodstva fabkomami,"
Professional? nye Soiuzy, nos. 9-10
(September-October 1946), p. 38.

30. See Dallin and Nicolaevsky,
Forced Labor, pp. 4-6.

31. Sovetskoye Trudovoye Pravo,
pp. 296-297.

32. Ibid., p. 277.

33. On December 26, 1941, vol-
untary absence from work in a war
industry was classed with deser-
tion. See ibid., p. 278.

34. Ibid., p. 279.

35. Ibid., pp. 280-281.

36. Ibid., p. 297.

37. Ibid., p. 300.

38. Ibid., p. 301. :

39. Ibid., p. 303.

40. Ibid., p. 326.

41. Die Bol'sevistischen Gewerk-
schaften, chaps, ii-v.

42. A good brief outline of these
events, though with a strong anti-
Stalinist bias, may be found in Gor-
don, Workers Before and After
Lenin, chap. xv.

43. From the resolutions of the
Sixteenth Plenum of the AUCCTU,
in Professional'nye Soiuzy, no. 5
(May 1947), p. 13. Similar com-
plaints are scattered through the
1949 issues of the AUCCTU daily,
Trud, prior to the Tenth Trade
Union Congress.

44. Professional'nye Soiuzy, no, 8
(August 1947), p. 4.

45. Amelin, in Professionarnye
Soiuzy, no. 6 (June 1947), p. 19.

46. Editorial in Professional'nye
Soiuzy, no. 8 (August 1947), p.
4.

47. That is, the case of the Uzbek
teachers* union, mentioned by
Dneprovoi, "Pochemu s'ezd priznal
rabotu TsK profsoiuza neudovlet-
voriternoi," Professional'nye Soiuzy,
no. 9 (September 1947), p. 13;
and the notes in "Na s'ezdakh prof-
soiuzov," Professional'nye Soiuzu, no.
6 (June 1947), p. 46, where, despite
some strong criticism, the work of
the central committees of the three
unions was declared satisfactory.

48. Professionafnye Soiuzy, no. 9
(September 1947), p. 7.

49. Dneprovoi, ibti., p. 16.

50. Trud, January 8, 1949.

51. Amelin, in ProfessionaFnye
Soiuzy, no. 6 (June 1947), p. 19.
A very similar account is in Tfttd,
January 11, 1949.

52. "Na s'ezdakh profsoiuzov,"
p. 46.

53. For some details on how this
works out in actual practice, see
Pavlik, "Uroki vypolneniya od-
nogo koldogovora," ProfessionaFnye

Transformation of Peasantry

459

Soiuzy, no. 12 (December 1947),
pp. 22, 23.

54. Kachnova, in Professional'nye
Soiuzy, nos. 9-10 (September-Oc-
tober 1946), p. 36. Strictly speak-
ing, the right of the oblast' com-
mittee appears to be limited to
putting the question of calling for

new elections before the union mem-
bership.

55. Pravda, October 15, 1948.

56. Pravda, October 16, 1948.

57. Pravda, October 17, 1948.

58. Pravda, October 15-17, 1948,
and January 10, 1949.

CHAPTER 15: TRANSFORMATION OF PEASANTRY

1. See Chapter 5 and my study,
he Influence of Ideas on Policies,"

American Political Science Review,
August, 1947, pp. 733-743.

2. See Primernyi Ustav SeFsko-
khozyaistvennoi ArtelL This was orig-
inally published in Izvestiya, Feb-
ruary 18, 1935, and also in the
Sobraniye Zakonov SSSR, no. 11
(1935), paragraph 82.

3. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, p. 46.

4. Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, p. 311.

5. Mikolenko and Nfldtin, Kol-
klioznoye Pravo, p. 139.

6. Ibid., p. 140.

7. Ibid., p. 139.

8. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, pp. 179-181,

9. Quoted by Mikolenko and
Nikitin, Kolkhoznoye Pravo, p. 139.

10. Ibid., pp, 140-141, 139-140.

11. Text in the major Soviet news-
papers, September 20, 1946.

12. Pravda, March 7, 1947.

13. Pravda, March 13, 1947. Alto-
gether there were, in 1947, 139,434
primary Party organizations in rural
areas.

14. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, p. 61,

15. Ibid., p. 64.

16. Ibid., p, 62.

17. Pravda, June 2, 1947.

18. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, pp. 37-39,

19. Pravda, May 13, 1947; Au-
gust 17, 1947.

20. Mikolenko and Nikitin, KoZ-
khoznoye Pravo, p. 159.

21. A description of their tasks
may be found in Pravda, July 4,
1947.

22. Primernyi Ustav, paragraph
15; Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kolkhoz-
noye Pravo, p. 119.

23. Mikolenko and Nikitin, JKoZ-
khoznoye Pravo, p. 145.

24. See Izvestiya, August 21,
1946; Pravda, February 3, 1947.

25. Izvestiya, August 21, 1946;
Pravda, February 3, 1947.

26. January 13, 1948.

27. Izvestiya, January 25, 1947.

28. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, p, 119.

29. Ibid,, p. 125,

30. Pravda, June 21, 1947.

31. Pravda, March 7, 1947.

32. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, p. 114.

33. Ibid., p. 115.

34. The date of the decree is
mentioned in Izvestiya, January 6,
1949, and some of the provisions
described. Curiously enough, the
decree is not published in the official
gazette of the Council of Ministers,
Sobraniye Postanovlenii, nor is it
available in the press. The provi-
sions mentioned are taken from
Pravda, February 25, 1948. A few
additional details, including the title

460

Notes to Chapter 15

of the decree, may be found in
Pravda, December 16, 1948. Secret
statutes are discussed from a general
point o£ view in Gsovski, Soviet
Civil Law, I, 228-229. There is
abundant evidence of their exist-
ence.

35. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management, p. 155,

36. Decree in Pravda, February
28, 1947; Stalin's role is mentioned
by Andreev in Pravda, March 7,
1947.

37. Bienstock, Schwarz, and Yu-
gow, Management) p. 167.

38. Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, p. 311.

39. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, p. 67.

40. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, p. 26.

41. Text in VKP (b) v Rezoliu-
tsiyakh (6th ed.), II, 769-773. Re-
printed also in Pravda, September
20, 1946.

42. Baykov, Development of the
Soviet Economic System, p. 314.

43. Ibid., p. 327. The sown area
of the collective farms was 117,200,-
000 hectares.

44. Full texts in the Soviet press
on the days following issuance of
the decrees.

45. Yugow, Russia's Economic
Front, p. 71.

46. Hubbard, Economics of So-
viet Agriculture, p. 201.

47. Ibid., pp. 218-219.

48. Mikolenko and Nikitin, Kol-
khoznoye Pravo, pp. 112-113; Bien-
stock, Schwarz, and Yugow, Man-
agement, p. 150.

49. Karavaev, "O dal'neishem
ukreplenii serskokhozyaistvennoi
arteli," Bol'shevik, no. 8 (April 30,
1948), p. 39.

50. Voznesensky, Voennaya Eko-
nomika SSSR, p. 129. The author at-

tributes the drop in prices between
1943 and 1945 to the opening of the
commercial stores which sold food
products at higher than rationed
prices to a selected clientele.

51. G. Mar'yakhin, "Nalogovaya
sistema sovetskogo gosudarstva"
(The Taxation System of the Soviet
Government), Finansy SSSR, p. 290.
No figures are given on the actual
tax rates or on the numbers of per-
sons at different income levels.

52. Texts of the decrees may be
found in the Soviet press with the
exception of that of November 9,
1946. Except for a brief mention of
personnel changes, this decree was
also omitted from the official gazette
of the Council of Ministers. Exten-
sive explanation of its provisions
may be found in Pravda, November

11, 1946, and Izvestiya, November

12, 1946.

53. On the factory canteens, see
Voznesensky, Voennaya Ekonomika
SSSR, p. 124. Reference has already
been made to the fact that before
the war they accounted for only 4
per cent of the retail trade in the
USSR, while in 1942 they accounted
for 28 per cent thereof. In part, this
rise was due to a sharp curtailment
in retail trade.

54. Izvestiya, October 5, 1946.

55. See, for example, Pravda,
September 23, 1946.

56. Typical complaints about
these clique relationships may be
found in Pravda, July 4, August 24,
August 29, and September 1, 1946.
See also Chapter 12.

57. Pravda, March 7, 1947.

58. Ibid.

59. While Andreev's report in-
dicates that by January 1, 1947,
there were 20,000 fewer kolkhozy
in the expanded territories of the
USSR than there were in 1938

Pattern of Foreign Policy

461

(222,000 in 1947 and 242,000 in
1938), this decrease may have been
due to reestablishing larger collec-
tive-farm units in areas occupied by

the Germans, as well as elsewhere in
the USSR.

60. See Chapter 2.

CHAPTER 16: PATTERN OF FOREIGN POLICY

1. Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hop-
kins, p. 565. The author reproduces
verbatim the account of one of the
interpreters.

2. The same is of course true
of any viewpoint, including those
which claim the highest degree of
scientific objectivity. This does not
mean that some viewpoints do not
involve greater distortions than
others.

3. For Bukharin's position, see
Chapter 5. In his report to the Six-
teenth Party Congress, Molotov re-
ferred briefly to the ejection of such
elements. See XVI S'ezd VKP(b),
pp. 423, 425.

4. Stalin, "The Right Deviation,"
excerpt from a speech delivered at a
plenum of the Central Committee
of the CPSU(b), April, 1929, Profc-
lems of Leninism, p. 246.

5. XVI S'essd VKP(b), pp. 22-
23; see also Molotov's speech, p. 419.

6. Quoted from Die Interna-
tionale, XIV, 499, in Flechtheim,
KPD, p. 166.

7. Beloff, Foreign Policy, I, 62-
69.

8. Ibid., p. 68.

9. Speech of December 29, 1933,
in Litvinov, Vneshmjaya Politika
SSSR, p. 69.

10. Ibid., p. 70.

11. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress of the CPSU (/>)," January
26, 1934, Problems of Leninism, p.
484.

12. Detailed accounts of the
events in the Far East, with numer-
ous quotations from the Soviet

sources, may be found in Beloff,
Foreign Policy, I, chap, vi, which
does its best to remain objective. An
interpretation hostile to tfie Soviets
may be found in Dallin, Soviet
Russia and the Far East, chap, i,
and a pro-Soviet one in H. L. Moore,
Soviet Far Eastern Policy, chap. ii.

13. Walter, Parti Communiste
Francais, p. 245.

14. Ibid., pp. 276, 281.

15. Ibid., pp. 268, 278.

16. Molotov, Otchetnyi Doklad o
Rabote Pravitel'stva VII S'ezdu
Sovetov SSSR, pp. 54, 50. Italy's
dispute with Abyssinia had already
come before the League at this time.
Later the Soviets opposed the Ital-
ians on this issue.

17. ""Resolution on the Report of
Comrade Dimitrov, Adopted on Au-
gust 20, 1935," Report of the Seventh
World Congress of the CI, p. 7. The
pages are not consecutive in this
volume, and the table of contents
lists the sequence of the separate
sections incorrectly,

18. Walter, Parti Communiste
Francais, p. 287; Borkenau, Com-
munist International, p. 383.

19. Dallin, Soviet Russia and the
Far East, pp. 131-132, 138; H. L,
Moore, Soviet Far Eastern Policy,
pp. 77-79.

20. "Resolution on the Report of
Comrade Pieck, Adopted on August
1, 1935," Report of the Seventh
World Congress of the CI, p. 39.

21. Speech of August 20, 1935,
ia Dimitrov, V Borbe za Edinyi
Front, pp. 99, 100.

462

Notes to Chapter 16

22. Speech at the Seventh Con-
gress of the Communist Interna-
tional, Report, p. 11.

23. Taracouzio, War and Peace,
p. 193.

24. Ibid., pp. 187-208, and for
the period down to 1936, Beloff,
Foreign Policy, I, chap. xiii.

25. Beloff, Foreign Policy, I, pp.
152-153.

26. Ibid., p. 156. The statement
was made on the occasion of Laval's
visit to Moscow and antedates the
turn in the Communist line made at
the Seventh World Congress.

27. Ibid., p. 155.

28. Stalin, O Nedostatkakh Partii-
noi Raboty, p. 9.

29. A well-documented outline of
the major events and the positions
taken by the powers concerned may
be found in Beloff, Foreign Policy,
II, 120-166.

30. "Report to the Eighteenth
Congress of the CPSU(b), March
10, 1939, Problems of Leninism,
pp. 624-626.

31. The stenographic report of
Manuilsty's speech to the Congress
is printed in many places. The above
is taken from Sputnik Agitatora, no.
6 (March 1939), p. 5.

32. The proposal of the Franco-
British-Soviet Pact was in reply to
British inquiries concerning Soviet
guarantees to Rumania and Poland.
It is mentioned in Potemkin (ed.),
Istoriya Diplomatii, III, 674. Potem-
kin was a Deputy Commissar of
Foreign Affairs and for many years
played an important role in Soviet
diplomacy. The German version of
the Soviet ambassador's conversation
may be found in Nazi-Soviet Rela-
tions, pp. 1-2. Though the docu-
ments are of German origin, it is
safe to assume that they represent
Soviet statements with considerable
accuracy, since foreign offices are

meticulous in their summaries of con-
versations, interviews, and the like,
when the documents are for the use
of their own officials and not for
public consumption.

33. Nazi-Soviet Relations, p. 35.

34. Ibid., p. 41.

35. Ibid., p. 74.

36. These territorial adjustments
were included in the secret protocol
added to the pact, and may be found
in Nazi-Soviet Relations, p. 78.

37. Ibid., pp. 127-128, 154.
Dallin's book, Foreign Policy, is a
very useful study of this period.
Many of Dallin's hypotheses have
been verified by the subsequent pub-
lication of the German documents.

38. Nazi-Soviet Relations, pp.
180-181.

39. Ibid., p. 233.

40. Ibid., pp. 25S-259.

41. Ibid., pp. 260-261. There are
strong indications that Hitler had
reached the decision to attack the
USSR several months earlier. Molo-
tov's statements in Berlin may have
merely confirmed the decision. See
Beloff, Foreign Policy, II, 339.

42. Nazi-Soviet Relations, p. 330.

43. Sherwood, Roosevelt and
Hopkins, p. 335.

44. Dallin, Foreign Policy, p. 345.

45. See Deutscher, Stalin, p. 475.
At the end of May 1942, Molotov in
his visit to Roosevelt asked directly
for a Western front, according to
Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hopkins,
pp. 387-388, 563.

46. Deane, Strange Alliance, pp.
40-45. General Deane was head of
the United States Military Mission
in Moscow from 1943 to 1945.

47. Sherwood, Roosevelt and
Hopkins, p. 401. See also Deane,
Strange Alliance, p. 88,

48. Mikolajczyk, Rape of Poland,
p. 23.

49. Ibid., p. 27,

Pattern of Foreign Policy

463

50. The principal Soviet state-
ments may be found in the collection
of documents, Vneshnyaya Politika,
I, 348-359.

51. Deutscher, Stalin, pp. 515-
516, citing the accounts of Cordell
Hull and James F. Byrnes.

52. The texts of the Yalta, Pots-
dam, and Teheran agreements were
published in the New "York Times,
March 25, 1947. See also the ac-
count of former Secretary of State
Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, chap. ii.

53. Sherwood, Roosevelt and
Hopkins, pp. 787, 798.

54. See Stalin's speech of Novem-
ber 6, 1944, in Stalin, O Velikoi
Otechestvennoi Voine, pp. 153-154;
Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, pp. 36-
37.

55. See Molotov's remarks at San
Francisco on April 26, 1945, in
Molotov, Voprosy Vneshnei Politiki,
pp. 11-12.

56. See, for example, Morgenthau,
Politics Among Nations, pp. 285-
286.

57. Curtiss and Inkeles, "Marxism
in the USSR," Political Science
Quarterly, September 1946, pp. 354-
356.

58. Pravda, February 10, 1946.

59. Voznesonsky, Voennaya JEifco-
nomika SSSH, pp. 189-190.

60. As in Zhdanov's speech on
the formation of the Communist In-
formation Bureau, Pravda, October
22, 1947. Stalin made similar state-
ments in his reply of May 17, 1948,
to an open letter from Henry Wal-
lace. Text in Bolshevik, no. 10
(May 30, 1948), pp. 1-2.

61. Khrushchev/'Borsheviki Ukrai-
ny," BoFshevtit, no. 3 (February 15,
1949), p. 38.

62. An account of the major
events may be found In Gyorgy,
Governments of Danubian Europe.

63. Revai, "On the Character of

Our People's Democracy," as trans-
lated in Foreign Affairs, October
1949, p. 147.

64. See Warriner, "Economic
Changes in Eastern Europe," Inter-
national Affairs, no. 2 (April 1949),
pp. 157-167.

65. A detailed study of Soviet
policy in Germany may be found in
Neumann, "Soviet Policy in Ger-
many," Annals of the American
Academy of Political and Social Sci-
ence, May 1949, pp. 165-179.

66. Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, p.
26; Stettinius, Roosevelt and the
Russians, pp. 130-131, 263-266,
272.

67. New York Times, January 19,
1947.

68. Molotov, Voprosy Vneshnei
Politiki, pp. 370-371.

69. Ibid., pp. 60-66.

70. Text in New York Times, Sep-
tember 7, 1946. In Speaking Frankly
(p. 192), Byrnes explains his actions
by saying that the Stuttgart speech
"made it impossible for the Soviets
to continue talking one way to the
Poles and another way to the Ger-
mans. Forced to choose they an-
nounced they would support Poland's
claim to the territory." Subsequently,
according to Byrnes, the German
support of the Communist cause be-
gan melting away.

71. According to Soviet sources,
the removal of capital equipment
and the payment of reparations from
current production largely ceased in
1947, The level of industrial produc-
tion in the Soviet zone had reached
52 per cent of the 1938 figure, it was
claimed, while that of the Anglo-
American zone was only 35 per cent
of the 1938 amount. Cartels and
syndicates had allegedly been broken
up and workers placed in control
of more than 38 per cent of the
plants. The large estates were dis-

464

Notes to Chapters 16 and 17

tributed among the peasantry, and
economic planning was introduced
in industry. See Gertsovich, "Vos-
stanovleniye mirnoi ekonomiki,"
Voptosy Ekonomiki, no. 1 (1948),
pp. 93-101. This somewhat rosy
picture should probably be taken as
an indication of Soviet goals rather
than of achievements. No doubt the
situation deteriorated after the im-
position of the blockade in the sum-
mer of 1948. Nevertheless, the
assumption of widespread economic
distress in the Soviet zone, frequently
stated as a generally known fact in
the American press, lacks detailed
substantiation. Even Neumann
("Soviet Policy in Germany," p.
178), concedes that the deteriora-
tion cannot be measured, and does
not present very strong evidence on
this matter.

72. See Byrnes, Speaking Frankly,
pp. 93, 216.

73. U.S. Relations with China, p.
72.

74. Byrnes, Speaking Frankly, p.
228.

75. Text in Pravda, April 7, 1947.

76. See Atkinson, "Sino-Soviet
Treaty," International Affairs, no. 3
(July 1947), pp. 360-361, 364.

77. On August 27, 1945, Stalin
told Harriman that the Red Army
had not yet come across Chinese
Communist guerrilla units. By
March 1946 the Chinese guerrillas
were moving into Manchuria in large
numbers. On these events, see U.S.
Relations with China, pp. 119, 145-
162; Dallin, Soviet Russia and the
Far East, pp. 251-255.

78. Atkinson, International Affairs,
no. 3 (July 1947), p. 362.

79. U.S. Relations with China,
pp. 232-233.

80. New York Times, May 30,
1949.

81. Perevertailo, "People's Re-
public Established in China," New
Times, no. 41 (October 5, 1949),
p. 5.

82. For varying interpretations on
future developments in China, see
Fairbank, U.S. and China, and Leites
and Rowe, "Choice in China,"
World Politics, April 1949, pp. 277-
307.

CHAPTER 17: IDEOLOGY AND FOREIGN POLICY

1. Speech of May 1, 1942, in
Stalin, O Velikoi Otechestvennoi
Voine, p. 48.

2. Speech of November 6, 1941,
ibid., pp. 25, 31.

3. The Right Deviation," Prob-
lems of Leninism, p. 252.

4. "Report to the Seventeenth
Congress," Problems of Leninism,
pp. 476, 478.

5. Ibid., p. 477.

6. XVIII S'ezd VKP(b), p. 273.

7. White, Growth of the Red
Army, p. 414.

8. Soviet-Yugoslav Dispute, p,
51.

9. Foreign Affairs, January 1949,
pp. 175-214.

10. Speech of November 6, 1941,
O Velikoi Otechestvennoi Voine, p.
14; Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hop-
kins, p, 782. In August 1942 Stalin
told Churchill, according to Sher-
wood (Roosevelt and Hopkins, p.
617), that German homes as well as
factories should be bombed. Church-
ill replied that though civilian
morale constituted a military objec-
tive, hits on workers' homes were
merely by-products of misses on
factories.

11. See the report by the Yugo-

Conclusions

465

slav, Edward Kardelj, in Pravda,
December 5, 1947. Kardelj later be-
came a supporter of Tito.

12. Snow, People on Our Side,
p. 241.

13. Ibid.

14. Kravchenko, I Chose Free-
dom, p. 424.

15. There is at least one report
of disbelief in the official doctrine
from more recent times. According
to the New York Times, March 28,
1948, James Carey, the anti-Com-
munist secretary of the Congress of
Industrial Organizations, asked Va-

silii Kuznetsov, the Soviet trade-
union leader, whether or not the
latter believed that the European
Recovery Program was the creation
of agents of reaction and supporters
of Wall Street. Kuznetsov s reply
was— in Carey's words— that "he
didn't believe the stuff and knew
those charges to be untrue."

16. Sherwood, Roosevelt and
Hopkins, pp. 342-343.

17. Nazi-Soviet Relations, p. 95.

18. Ibid., p. 99.

19. Ibid., p. 75.

20. Stalin, pp. 534, 554.

CHAPTER 18: CONCLUSIONS

1. There seems to be only a very
limited awareness among the Soviets
that factors other than wage scales
may be extremely important in their
effect on output. Nor is there any
systematic study of these factors,
such as that which has engaged the
attention of sociologists and anthro-
pologists in the United States for
some twenty years.

2. Similar ideas may be found in
the writings of Mosca, Sorel, and
Pureto. De Grazia, Political Com-
munity, gives the most detailed ex-
planation, couched in terms of the
life cycle of the individual, for the
development of belief systems
which, to be socially effective, must
be above rational criticism*

3. A modern industrial democ-
racy is about as close as one can
expect to come to such a social
order. In such a society there is at
least a strong probability that for
each question the society faces

there is some person or group of
persons whose task it is to think
about this problem in a manner
freed of the shackles of traditional
answers provided by ideology and
culture. But it is quite obvious that
even a democracy, while it may be
willing to permit untraditional think-
ing about political and social mat-
ters, is reluctant to permit its practi-
tioners to practice.

4. Kroeber, Configurations of
Culture Growth, pp. 91, 763.

5. Whorf, "Science and Linguis-
tics," in "Readings in Social Psy-
chology, pp. 210-218; Lee, "A Lin-
guistic Approach to a System of
Values," in Readings in Social Psy-
chology, pp. 219-224.

6. See chapter v.

7. Bruner and Postman, **An Ap-
proach to Social Perception," in
Dennis (ed.), Current Trends in
Social Psychology, pp. 71—118.

8. Varga, Two Systems, p. 241*

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(On Setting the Rates of Labor and the Organization of Wages).
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sluzhashchikh" (The Role of the Unions in the Regulation of the
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Leites, Nathan, and David Nelson Rowe, "Choice in China."
April 1949,

Index

Academicians, 280, 281

Accountability, electoral: in govern-
ment and Soviets, 42, 275; in
Party, 67-68, 139, 249, 261; in
trade unions, 328-329

Adler, Friedrich, 127

Aggression and mass discontent:
Party methods of channeling, 75-
76, 118, 146, 174, 229, 234-235,
293-295, 329, 397, 403; and So-
viet expansionism, 396-397

Agriculture: output under War Com-
munism, 91; changes under NEP,
93-95; proposals for reorganiza-
tion, 100-101, 103-104, 110-111;
1939 figures on scientific person-
nel, 280; system of authority, 289.
See also Collective farms, Collec-
tivization, Cooperatives, Peasants,
Property

Agronomists, 280

All-Russian Central Executive Com-
mittee, 21

All-Russian Peasants' Union, 25

All-Union Central Council of Trade
Unions, 181, 320, 328. See also
Trade unions

Anarchists, 122, 127

Andreev, A, A., 340

Artists, 22&-227, 280

Authoritarianism, see Authority,
Communist Party, Leadership,
Masses, Opposition, Status, Terror

Authority:

general features: in prerevolu-
tionary theory, 40-45; system at-
tacked by Party opposition, 93,
152-153, 171-172; factional con-
flicts over system, 101-102; prob-
lems of allocation, 286-290; in

agriculture, 289; in government
offices, 289-290

process of centralization: effect
of chronic crises, 117-118, 141,
142-143; general principles gov-
erning, 138; and bureaucratic
competition, 295-296; in Party,
60, 63, 65-66, 141-142, 144, 152,
155, 264-269; in local Soviets,
129-130, 136-137, 272-273; in
industry, 166, 168-169, 300-302,
309, 313, 314-315, 316; in col-
lective farms, 334-340; in trade
unions, 327-331

See also Accountability, Aggres-
sion, Bolshevism, Clique, Commu-
nist Party, Policy, Responsibility

Bakunin, M. A., 29

Balance of power: general character-
istics, 189-190, 351-352, 376,
400-401, 408; and Soviet foreign
policy, 203-208, 350, 351, 353,
362-366, 370-371, 376-379, 382-
384; structural demands of, 351-
352, 390-391, 408-409; postwar
polarization of, 37O-371, 373,
400-401; and revolutionary aims,
404-405. See also Foreign policy

Banking, Soviet, 44, 305

Barmine, Alexander, 267

Bogdanov, A. A., 80

Bolshevik Center, 80

Bolshevism: origins of, 19-29; pre-
revolutionary goals, 29-32; goals
reformulated after 1905, 33-34;
problem of doctrinal consistency,
33, 35-36, 357-358, 387-389,
414; and doctrinal concessions, 35,
416-417; continuity in method of

488

Index

questioning, 38-39, 85, 114, 115,
268-269; lack of spirit of com-
promise, 65, 118-119, 122, 157-
158; major problems faced in
1917, 85-87, 97-98; and Party
factional struggles, 113-116; role
of tactical retreat, 114, 217, 399,
401; and "defencism," 195; mo-
nopoly on truth, 236; significance
of recent revival, 371-376; Messi-
anic features of, 399; conflict of
means and ends, 402-403, 419-
420; and demands of modern in-
dustrialism, 405-408, 410-412;
stages of adaptive change, 418-
425; use of deception, 422

See also Authority, Class strug-
gle, Collectivization, Communism,
Communist Party, Democracy,
Democratic centralism, Dictator-
ship, Discipline, Elite, Foreign
policy, Ideology, Imperialism,
Revolution, Socialism, State

Bonuses, 306, 340-341. See also
Equality, Incentives, Inequality

Booldceepers and accountants, 281

Borodin, Michael, 212

Bourgeoisie and bourgeois institu-
tions: in prerevolutionary Russia,
20, 22-24, 27, 53; Bolshevik views
on, 33-37, 41, 49, 52, 56, 61, 119,
176-177, 187, 199, 201-202, 209,
212; Menshevik views on, 34, 52;
Left Wing Communists' views on,
88, 193. See also Capitalism, Cities

Brandler, H., 210

Brest-Litovsk, see Treaties

Bribery, 172

Britain, 203-205, 206, 359, 362-363,
366-371

Bubnov, A. S., 141

Budget of USSR, 263-264, 309-311

Bukharin, Nikolai: proposes revolu-
tionary war, 88; anomalous posi-
tion in Party, 102-103, 108;
breaks with Stalin, 104; attacked
by Party leaders, 107; and Right
deviation, 107-108; indicates Po-
litburo control of Chinese revolu-

tion, 212; supports German Social
Democrats, 352

views on: War Communism,
91; NEP, 103; class struggle and
peasant problem, 103-104; indus-
trialization, 104-107; foreign pol-
icy, 107-108; Brest-Litovsk, 144,
193-194; trade unions, 145; mon-
olithism, 152; Trotsky's Novyi
Kurs, 155; status differentials, 161,
175-176; labor-management rela-
tions, 161-162; functions of work-
ers, 182; equality of incomes, 187,
446; role of proletariat in war,
193

See also Left Wing Communists,
Right Opposition, Tomsky, Rykov
Bulgaria, 365

Bureaucracy: pre-1917 Bolshevik
concept of, 40-46; Bukharin's
views on, 105; and Party Con-
trol Commissions, 148-149; prob-
lem of status differentials, 160-
162, 175-176, 236-246, 283-284,
406-407; size in 1925-26, 164;
internecine conflicts and policy ex-
ecution, 171-172; mass participa-
tion in, 172-175; composition of,
278; role of officer group (dolzh-
nostnoye litso), 279; role of rep-
resentatives of power (predstavi-
teli vlasti)> 279; figures on major
status groups, 280-281; Stalin's
criticism of, 284; and Government
Staff Commission, 285; future
prospects of changes, 297; size in
collective farm administration,
337-338, 341. See also Authority,
Clique, Status
Byrnes, J. F., 266

Cadets, see Constitutional Demo-
cratic Party

Cadres, 239, 255, 285

Canteens, factory, 312

Capital investment, 109-110, 308-
311

Capitalism: as stage toward social-
ism, 40-41, 43, 44, 4&-47, 176,

Index

489

221; cooperation with socialism,
55, 113, 202, 205, 208, 217, 354,
356, 387. See also Bourgeoisie,
Imperialism

Capitalist encirclement, 112, 116,
223, 224, 361, 372, 385

Central Committee (Party): elec-
tions to, 78; early attacks by op-
position, 80, 125, 147; pre-1917
elite in, 80, 141; relationship to
Politburo, 142, 264, 267; and
Plenum, 142; conflicts over Brest-
Litovsk, 143-144; empowered to
destroy opposition, 145; and 1924
Leninist levy, 149-150; and
purges of 1936-38, 228, 247-
248; selection of members, 247;
and Cadres Administration, 255;
and local Party units, 255, 270;
and Party Congress, 261; discus-
sions of policy, 274; control over
wages and output, 318; and army
aid to Parties abroad, 386. See
also Authority, Communist Party,
Elite, Leadership, Lenin, Polit-
buro, Stalin, Trotsky

Chamberlin, W, H., 124

Cheka, see Secret police

Chiang Kai-shek, 212-213, 355, 357,
379-380

Chicherin, G, V., 204, 205-206

Child labor, 237

China: conflicting Party views in
1926-27, 102, 107, 112; 1927 rev-
olution, 211-213; relations with
USSR, 355, 357, 359, 379-382

Chinese Nationalists, 379-381

Chinese People's Republic, 381-
382

Cities, pre-1917 significance of, 22.
See also Bourgeoisie

Class struggle: proletarian alliances
with bourgeoisie, 34-35, 36-37,
49, 119; and stages of socialism,
48, 52-53, 55-56; and dictator-
ship of proletariat, 51-53, 56-57;
Bulcharin's views on, 103-104;
Bolshevik denial of existence of,
176-182, 223, 31S-319; Stalin's

change of views on, 222-223; and
wages, 318-321; Party control
over participants, 328-329, 331.
See also Communism, Socialism
Classes, social, 236-237, 239-240,

406-407. See also Status
Clausewitz, Karl von, 54r-55
Clique relationships: between Party
and government officials, 172; be-
tween workers and government of-
ficials, 173-174; Party methods of
combating, 276, 293-296; in gov-
ernment bureaucracy, 285; in in-
dustry, 290-291; in agriculture,
291; in lower Party ranks, 291; be-
tween farms and factories, 346.
See also Authority
Collective agreements, 320-323
Collective farms: structure and op-
eration, 333-334; and private
plots, 333-334, 342-347; number
and area occupied by 1938, 334;
"kolkhoz democracy," 334-336,
347; total number in 1947, 336;
brigades, 341; and land sales,
345-346; area returned to, 346-
347

leadership: figures on manage-
rial personnel, 280; selection, 334r-
336; rate of turnover, 335; extent
of administrative bureaucracy,
337-338, 341; policy formulation
and execution, 336-340

income and wages: labor day
norms, 338-339, 340, 344; rates
and distribution, 338-339; differ-
ential, 340-342; produce and cash
income, 341-342

relations with: local Soviets,
271-272; Party control organs,
289; Machine-Tractor Stations,
338; factories, 345-346. See also
Agriculture, Collectivization
Collectivization: in pre-1917 Marx-
ist theory, 49-51; stages in devel-
opment of Bolshevik theory: Len-
in's views, 100, Trotsky's views,
100-101, views of Right Opposi-
tion, 103-104, Stalin's views, 110-

490

Index

111; and liquidation of kulaks,
110-111; and planned social
change, 332-333; Model Statute
of 1935, 333, 338; conflict of Bol-
shevik goals, 347-349; in satel-
lite states, 374-375

Collegiuras, 164, 165, 173. See also
Factory managers

Comintern, see Communist Interna-
tional

Communism: and end of coercion,
45-46; 1919 hopes for realization,
91, 183; implies equality of in-
comes, 187, 446; Stalin revises
definition of, 224; and postpone-
ment of revolution, 372. See also
Bolshevism, Socialism

Communist International: denounces
Right deviation, 107-108; turns
left in 1928, 112-113; influence
of Russian Party on, 197-202, 208,
212; founded in March 1919, 198;
organization and functions of,
198-200; Twenty-One Conditions
for admission, 199-200; last
World Congress in 1935, 200; and
Soviet foreign policy, 355-357,
362; popular-front policy, 355-
359; revolutionary goals, 356-
357, 358

Communist Parties abroad: Chi-
nese, 212-213, 357, 379-382; Ger-
man, 353, 354, 355-356; French,
356, 386; programs in satellite
states, 373-376; Italian, 386; Yu-
goslav, 386; and Bolshevik goals,
391. See also Communist Interna-
tional, Communist Party

Communist Party of the Soviet
Union (Bolsheviks): problems
faced in 1917, 85-87, 97-*98; local
leaders as scapegoats, 132; stat-
utes on powers of executive or-
gans, 139-140, 260-261; fre-
quency of Congresses, 140, 260;
statutes revised, 140; policy-mak-
ing role of rank ana file, 146-
152; administrative skills in, 162-
163; creates own managerial per-

sonnel, 168-169; and Red Army,
171; place recognized in 1936
Constitution, 223, 230; official
History of, 231; 1939 statutes on
elections, 247; combats clique re-
lationships, 293-296; effects of
war strains, 397

membership: 1924 Leninist
levy, 149-150; increase between
1924 and 1929, 150; maximum in-
come of members, 185; rate of
turnover of local leaders, 255-
256; social composition after
1928, 257-260; decline in prole-
tarian membership, 257-259;
among factory directors, 258;
1939 requirements, 258-259; fig-
ures for 1929-47, 259; and non-
Party Bolsheviks, 260; percentage
in Soviets, 273; 1937 figures on
leaders, 280; in collective farms,
336

control over: trade unions, 106-

107, 327-330; local Soviets, 129-
138, 142-143; industrial manage-
ment, 163, 166-167, 168-169;
elections to Party and Soviets, 248,
250-253; formulation of policy,
260-269, 273; execution of pol-
icy in industry, 286-289; execu-
tion of policy in agriculture, 289;
execution of policy in government
and Soviets, 289-290; industry,
300-316; collective farms, 335-
340, 342-347

factional conflicts over: 1917
peace with Germany, 87-38, 192-
194; War Communism, 90-93;
system of authority, 92-93, 101-
102; industrialization, 98-100,
104-105; collectivization, 104,
110-111; foreign policy, 102, 107-

108, 111-114; labor-management
relations, 177-182; 1923 German
revolution, 209-211; policy to-
ward Nazi Germany, 352

See also Authority, Bolshevism,
Central Committee, Communist
International, Control Coznmis-

Index

491

sions, Opposition, Politburo, Prop-
aganda, Russian Social Demo-
cratic Labor Party

Competition, bureaucratic: reaction
of status groups, 290, 291-292;
and centralization of authority,
295-296; and distribution of
goods, 313-315; as incentive on
collective farms, 340-342

"Competition, socialist," 301-302,
306-307

Conflict Commissions, 324-325

Congresses, Party, see Communist
Party

Conspiracy and theory of leader-
ship, 59-61, 62-64. See also
Elite

Constituent Assembly, 119-121

Constitution of 1918, 128-129

Constitution of 1936: and equalita-
rian goals, 32, 241; and classless
society, 223; and competing par-
ties, 223; and individual liberty,
226; recognition of Party's author-
ity, 230; election procedures, 250-
251; powers of Supreme Soviet,
260; powers of local Soviets, 270-
271

Constitutional Democratic Party, 24,
42, 120, 121. See also Bourgeoisie,
Gentry, Opposition

Constitutional Monarchical Party,
123

Control Commissions (Party), 148-
149, 170. See also Policy

Cooperatives: figures on managerial
personnel, 280

agricultural: in pre-1917 the-
ory, 50-51; Lenin's views in 1923,
94; advocated by Bukharin, 104;
accused of counterrevolutionary
activities, 123

consumers': and competition
with special stores, 313-314

producers'; and government aid,
314; role in distribution of goods,
314; in satellite states, 874-375.
See also Distribution, Retail trade

Coemption: in Party, 77-78; in lo-

cal Soviets, 132; criticized by
Preobrazhensky, 150; conflict
with democratic aims, 254-256;
in trade unions, 328; on collective
farms, 334-336. See also Elections,
Leadership

Council of Ministers, 300-301, 318

Crime, 128. See also Guilt

Cynicism among Soviet leaders, 54,
234-236, 389-390, 422

Czechoslovakia, 359

Dan, F. I., 30
Deane, Gen. J. R., 266
Decision-making, see Policy
Democracy and popular controls:
factors hindering development,
21-27, 250; in 1903 Party pro-
gram, 31; individual rights, 32,
226-228; Bolshevik attitude in
1917, 36-37; adapted to authori-
tarian use, 118, 121, 131-135,
174, 176, 182, 234-235, 293-294,
329, 403-404, 416; Stalin's argu-
ments against, 155-156; "prole-
tarian democracy," 181; Bolshe-
vik concept of freedom, 224-228;
role of Soviets, 232, 269-272;
checks on policy-makers, 274—
276; "kolkhoz democracy," 334-
336, 347. See also Democratic
centralism, Elections, Equality,
Freedom, Masses, Parliamentar-
ism, Re-democratization, Self-
criticism

Democratic centralism: origins of
term, 64; in pre-1917 Russian
Marxism, 65-70; replaced by co-
option, 77-78; official definition
of, 139-140; difficulties of appli-
cation, 144; in Communist Inter-
national, 200; and selection of
Party leaders, 247; in Soviets, 269-
' 272; in trade unions, 328-331.
See also Coemption, Democracy,
Elections, Freedom, Leadership
Dictatorship of proletariat: pre-
1917 Bolshevik views, 33-35, 40-
43, 51-52; and class relationships

492

Index

in USSR, 119; and withering
away of state, 222-223; and So-
viet democracy, 232-233. See
also Class struggle, Lenin, State
Director's Fund, see Incentives
Directors, Soviet, see Factory man-

Disarmament proposals, Soviet, 207

Discipline:

industrial: under War Commu-
nism, 89-90; legal provisions, 323-
324; and workers' grievances,
323-325

Party: in Bolshevik theory, 63-
66, 140, 144, 146; in 1919 by-
laws, 6&-70; leaders* violation of,
69-70, 72-74, 81; under War
Communism, 89-90; and control
over Parties abroad, 197-201; in
Party units in Soviets, 273. See
also Control Commissions, Mono-
lithism

Discussion, see Freedom of discus-
sion

Distribution: of agricultural prod-
uce, 342, 344^345

of goods: and rationing under
Wrar Communism, 92; system un-
der NEP, 94; system under War
Communism, 183; general prob-
lems in USSR, 311-315. See also
Retail trade

Dolzhnostnoye litso, see Bureaucracy

Duma, 56, 70, 76

Dzerzhinsky, F., 126, 141

Economists and statisticians, 280
Education, 237-238, 244, 296-297
Efficiency, industrial, 307-308
Elections:

in Party: pre-1917 attitude to-
ward, 66, 78; in lower organs,
247-250, 25^-255

in local Soviets: system, 132-
133; figures on participation, 133;
Party control over, 250-253

to Constituent Assembly, 120;
and re-democratization campaigns,
233; political functions of, 234,

403; nominating process in, 251-
252, 254; to Supreme Soviet, 262;
in trade unions, 328-330; on col-
lective farms, 334-336, 339. See
also Accountability, Cooption,
Democratic centralism, Leader-
ship, Voters

Elite theories, 59-61, 62-64, 229-
232. See also Authority, Leader-
ship, Monolithism

Engels, Friedrich, 8, 46, 222

Engineers and architects, 280

Equality:

of income: in pre-1917 Bolshe-
vik theory, 42-43, 45; Party atti-
tude during War Communism,
183-184; pressures for, 185-186;
as early Bolshevik goal, 186-187;
repudiated, 238, 404; for manual
and mental labor, 241-243, 278;
and wage rates, 319-320

of opportunity: in pre-1917
Bolshevik theory, 42; in educa-
tion, 237-238; in official ideology,
241-243; and Stakhanovite move-
ment, 243-244. See also Democ-
racy, Income, Inequality, Status

Executives, public and industrial,
280

Expansionism, Soviet, 391-399. See
also Foreign policy

Expropriations, 79-81

Factory committees, 160, 166-167
Factory managers: Lenin's views on,
159; collegial and one-man man-
agement, 164-166; role of factory
committees, 166-167; and "trian-
gle," 167, 168; percentage with
Party membership, 168; and class
conflicts, 176-182; Director's
Fund, 305-306; and noneconomic
incentives, 307; productive effi-
ciency, 307-308; theoretical rela-
tionship to workers, 318; role in
collective bargaining, 321-322

authority: range of, 279, 287-
288; limitations on, 302-306; in
setting wage rates, 818-820; to

Index,

493

hire and fire, 325-327. Sec also
Bonuses, Clique, Industry

"Fainilyness," 290-291, 293, Sec ahv
Bureaucracy, Clique

Farmers, sec Collective farms, Peas-
ants

Fascism and National Socialism,
352-354, 356-358, 384, 391. See
also Foreign policy, Germany,
Italy, Popular front, Treaties

Finland, 364, 365

Five Year Plans: heavy capital in-
vestment, 110; and social equal-
ity, 175; results considered inade-
quate, 186; and local Soviets, 271;
formulation of, 300-302; and col-
lective agreements, 321. See also
Planning

Foreign policy:

influence of Marxist ideology:
revolutionary goals, 51-53, 55-
57, 192-202, 208-217, 350-351,
372, 384-389, 394; concept of
imperialism, 55-56, 191, 195, 203,
384-388; class struggle, 55-56,
353, 356-357, 409; cooperation
between socialism and capitalism,
113, 363, 372; suspicions among
allies, 360-362, 366, 392-393;
capitalist encirclement, 112, 361,
372

and balance of power, 203-208,
350, 351, 353, 362-366, 370-371,
376-379, 382-384, 390-391; al-
leged "master plan" of world con-
quest, 217-218; attitude toward
Comrmmist Parties abroad, 351,
353-354, 358-359, 363; and Rus-
sian national interests, 353-354,
365-366, 367-370, 384; and
League of Nations, 355, 359; role
of popular front, 355-359; effect
of Munich, 362; and leaders' ma-
nipulation of symbols, 389-390;
domestic determinants, 394-399,
409

See also Balance of power, Brit-
ain, China, Communist Interna-
tional, Germany, Imperialism, Ja-

pan, Revolution, Satellite states,
Treaties, United States
France, 204-205, 359, 362, 363
Freedom of discussion: in Bolshevik
theory, 68, 69-70; in early Party
gatherings, 74-75, 144-146, 147-
148; and monolithic Party, 156-
157. See also Democracy

Galen, General, 212

Genoa Conference, 203-205

Gentry, 23-24

Germany: early Bolshevik attitude
toward, 87-88, 192, 196; and
Treaty of Rapallo, 203-205; revo-
lution of 1923, 208-211; relations
with USSR, 192-197, 265, 266,
352-354, 356, 360-366, 376-379,
389-390; and Soviet postwar poli-
cies, 376-379, See also Fascism,
Lenin, Social Democrats, Stalin

Goals: mutually incompatible, 188,
347-349; problem of means and
ends, 402-403, 412, 419-420

transformation of: revival of old
goals, 182, 187, 386-388, 423;
postponement, 183, 188, 194, 195,
201, 216-217, 222-224, 347-349,
357-358, 423; repudiation, 188,
238, 422; ritualization, 424; re-
tention of original goals, 424-
425. See also Equality, Ideology,
Inequality, Revolution

Gorky, Maxim, 73

Gosplan, 300-302

Government Defense Committee,
301

Government offices, 282-283, 289-
290

Government Staff Commission, 285

Greece, 368-369

Group for Democratic Centralism,
93, 152

Guilt, Soviet concept of, 128, 227-
228

"Historicus," 386

Hostility of masses, see Aggression

494

Index

Housing for workers, 322
Hungary, 197

[deology: conflicting views of role
of, 6-9; as screen in political anal-
ysis, 31, 214, 350-351, 352, 390-
391, 417-418; problem of doc-
trinal consistency and purity, 239,
243, 357-358, 413-414; effect on
behavior, 268-269, 415-416; op-
erating and official, 269, 386-388,
419-422; adapted to new circum-
stances, 372-373, 389-390, 405-
408, 410-412, 418-425; necessity
for irrational belief in, 409-410;
flexibility and rigidity of, 412-
418; mechanics of transmission,
416; incorporation of contradic-
tions, 416-417; doctrinal core,
417. See also Authority, Bolshe-
vism, Democracy, Equality, For-
eign policy, Goals, Inequality,
Revolution

Imperialism: in Bolshevik theory,
55-56, 191, 195, 203; change in
concept of, 386-388

Incentives, economic: role under
NEP, 93-94, 183-184; Trotsky's
views on, 99; and wage rates,
183-184, 319-320; and competi-
tion, 301-302, 306-307; and profit
motive, 303-306; bonuses, 306,
340-341; and forced labor, 308;
and retail trade, 311-315; rela-
tionship to output, 319-320; and
collective agreements, 321; and
status differentials in agriculture,
340-342; and distribution of prod-
uce, 342; noneconomic, for fac-
tory managers, 307. See also Com-
petition, Wages

Income: of workers, 184-185; of
Party members, 185; of collective
farmers and farms, 340-342, 344-
345. See also Bonuses, Equality,
Inequality, Wages

Cndividual and group relationships,
32, 224-228

Individual rights, see Constitution,

Democracy

Industrialism: role in Marxist analy-
sis, 29-30, 32, 33; limitations on
social change, 405-408
Industry: pre-1917 Bolshevik pro-
gram, 4445; 1918 nationalization
proposals, 88-89; under War
Communism, 91; changes under
NEP, 93-95; Trotsky's program,
98-100; competition of private
with state, 167; confused lines of
authority in, 286-289; setting of
production goals, 300-302; profit
and cost, 303-304; determination
of wage rates, 318-321; coal and
iron output compared with U. S.,
456. See also Authority, Capital
investment, Collective agreements,
Distribution, Factory managers,
Incentives, Labor, Planning, Pro-
duction, Profits, Trade unions,
Wages
Inequality:

economic: in pre-1917 Bolshe-
vik theory, 43-45; and variations
in real income, 184—185; necessity
of, 186-187; in agriculture, 340-
342

political: necessity of, 187; in
system of authority, 402-404; un-
der modern industrialism, 40>6

social, see Status differentials.
See also Equality, Goals, Ideology
Inflation, 344-345
Informal elements in bureaucracy,

see Clique relationships
"Instructors," Party instrument for

policy execution! 286
Intellectuals:

Tsarist: relationship with
masses, 59-60; percentage re-
tained by Soviets, 163; spets in
Soviet bureaucracy, 163

Soviet: role in "pre-1917 Party,
72-73; Bukharin's views on, 162;
role under Stalin, 222; access to
higher education, 237-238; social
origins of, 240; total number in

Index

495

1939, 240, 280; cultural charac-
teristics, 244-246; special privi-
leges of, 312. See also Masses, So-
cial classes, Status

International relations, see Balance
of power, Foreign policy

Intuition, 54, 62, 113-114

Italy, 208, 356, 359

Japan, 354-355, 365, 366, 379, 400
Joffe, Adolph, 196, 211-212
Journalists and cultural workers, 281

Kaganovich, Lazar: appointed to
presidium of AUCCTU, 106; pro-
posals for mass support, 131-132;
criticizes Soviets, 136; defines
leadership, 137; on "proletarian
democracy," 181; on role of Party
worker, 257, 258; on work of Cen-
tral Committee, 267

Kalinin, Mikhail, 252-253, 270

Kamenev, L. B., 73-74, 125, 141

Kautsky, Karl, 46, 50

Kemal Atatiirk, 206

Kerensky, A. F,, 37

Khrushchev, N. K, 255, 372

Khvostism (tail-endism), 62. See
also Masses

Kolkhoz, sec Collective farms

Kornilov revolt, 79

Krassin, L. B., 40, 167-168, 257

Kravchenko, Victor, 388

Kroeber, A. L., 415

Kronstadt rebellion, 122-123, 131

Kulaks, 46-47, 110-111, 118, 119,
134

Kun, B&a, 197

Kuomintang, 211-213, See also
China

Kuznetsov, V. V., 319, 330-331

Labor: militarization defended by
Trotsky, 40-42; and wage differ-
entials, 184; output and wages,
318-320; hiring and firing, 325-
327; allocation on collective farms,
339. Sec also Authority, Disci-

pline, Equality, Incentives, Indus-
try, Inequality, Trade unions,
Wages, Workers

Labor day norms, see Collective
farms

Labor-management relations, 318,
32(M327. See also Authority,
Clique, Factory managers, Trade
unions, Workers

Labor reserves, 237

Land, see Nationalization, Property

Law, Soviet: and terror, 127; status
groups recognized, 279, 282. See
also Guilt, Legal personnel

Leadership:

selection in Party: theory of
conspiratorial elite, 60, 63; by co-
option, 77-78, 254-256; elective
principle and democratic central-
ism, 247-250

selection in: factories, 159-
160, 162-164, 166, 181; trade
unions, 328-329; collective farms,
334-336

turnover: in local Party units,
255-256; in trade unions, 329; on
collective farms, 335

Kaganovich's views on role in
Party, 137; changes in composition
in Party, 256-260

See also Accountability, Author-
ity, Central Committee, Cooption,
Democratic Centralism, Elections,
Elite, Masses, Monolithism, Par-
liamentarism

League of Nations, 355, 359

Left Opposition (Trotsky): criti-
cizes Party attitude toward peas-
ants, 101, 110; views on revolu-
tion, 102; attacked by Bukharin,
105; estimates on strength in
1927, 151. See also Opposition,
Trotsky

Left Wing Communists: domestic
program in 1918, 88-89; revolu-
tionary program, 88; views on
War Communism, 92; criticizes
Party authoritarianism, 152; as
"loyal opposition," 155; discon-

496

Index

tent with Bolshevik regime, 177;
opposed to Brest-Litovsk, 193-
194. See also Bukharin, Opposi-
tion

Legal personnel, 280
Lenin, V. I.: characteristics as pol-
icy-maker, 37, 38-39, 54, 72-73,
144

general views on: alliances with
nonproletarian elements, 34-35,
36-37, 49, 119; revolutionary flex-
ibility, 38; bourgeois parliamen-
tarism, 40; significance of War
Communism, 90-91; economic
need for NEP, 93-94

views on the state: dictatorship
of proletariat, 33-34, 35, 40, 41,
51-52, 119, 121, 222; parliamen-
tary goals, 36, 37; role of Soviets,
37, 41-42; mass participation in
administration, 42, 173; withering
away of state, 45-46; relations be-
tween leaders and masses, 61-64;
use of terror, 71-72, 126-127;
Constituent Assembly, 119-121;
role of Cheka, 126

views on Party: pre-1917 task
of Social Democracy, 61; central-
ized organization, 63-67; Party
democracy, 65-66, 69-70; free-
dom of discussion and demo-
cratic centralism, 68-70, 145-
146; "unity in action/' 69, 70;
referendum, 70; function of Polit-
buro, 141

and Soviet foreign policy: views
on revolution and world politics,
51-52, 55-57; influence of Clause-
witz, 54r-55; Brest-Litovsk issue,
87-88, 143-144, 192-194; modi-
fies views on imperialism, 195; re-
lations with Bela Kun, 197; views
on centralized control in Comin-
tern, 198-199; postponement of
world revolutionary goal, 201;
views on Genoa Conference, 203,
204

on industrial problems: status

distinctions, 42-44, 175; labor-
management relations, 44-45, 159,
165, 176-177, 179; trade unions,
61, 176-177, 179; lack of trained
administrators, 162-163; strikes,
180

on agricultural problems: land
nationalization, 47—51; April the-
ses, 51; cooperatives, 94. See also
Bolshevism, Communist Party,
Democracy, Elite, Intuition, Lead-
ership, Opposition

Liberalism, Stalin's attack on, 157.
See also Bourgeoisie, Gentry

Liberman, Simon, 92, 126

Liebknecht, Karl, 197

Litvinov, Maxim, 113, 354, 355

Locarno, see Treaties

Lunacharsky, A. V., 153

Luxemburg, Rosa, 197

Lvov, Prince, 36, 37

Machine-Tractor Stations, 280, 338

Malinovsky, Roman, 76

Management in industry, see Author-
ity, Factory managers, Leadership,
Trade unions, Workers' Control

Managers of stores and restaurants,
280

Manchuria, 366

Manuilsky, Dimitry, 362

Marty, Andre", 358

Marx, Karl, 6-7, 46-48, 299

Masses: participation in government,
42, 172-175; relations to leaders,
54, 61-64, 113-114, 120-121,
221-222, 228-236, 270; and Tsar-
ist intellectuals, 59-60; discontent
under War Communism, 92, 122-
123, 131; and use of terror, 124,
126-127; Party efforts to secure
support, 128-138; standard of liv-
ing, 225-226; checks on leaders,
233-234, 274-276; role in eco-
nomic planning, 301-302. See also
Aggression, Authority, Classes,
Cynicism, Democracy, Elections,

Index

497

Equality, Inequality, Leadership,
Opportunism, Self-criticism, Sta-
tus, Workers

Maynard, Sir John, 25, 137

Mekhlis, L., 385

Mensheviks: and revolutionary goals,
52; refuse to vote for war credits,
56; split with Bolsheviks, 60; dis-
putes over democratic centralism,
68-69; representation in Constit-
uent Assembly, 120; and early
Bolshevik leniency, 127; denounce
compulsory labor, 177-178

MGB, see Secret police, Terror

Middle classes, see Bourgeoisie,
Cities, Kulaks

Military Revolutionary Committees,
129

Miliukov, P., 22, 27

Mir, 25-27

Mirbach, Count, 122

Model Statute o£ 1935 on collectiv-
ization, 333, 338

Molotov, V. M.: supports Stalin on
collectivization, 110; on Party
membership in Soviets, 132-133;
on 1939 composition of Soviet
intelligentsia, 240; relationship
with Stalin, 265-266, 389-390; on
Soviet foreign policy, 350; on
cooperation with fascist regimes,
356; and Hitler, 365-366; on
China after World War II, 380,
381; on 1939 partition of Poland,
389-390

Monolithism in Party: early develop-
ment, 145-146; attacked by oppo-
sition, 152; defended in 1924, 155;
Stalin's belief in, 157; and differ-
ences of opinion, 157-158, 229-
230; and doctrine of no class
struggle, 223. See also Authority,
Communist Party, Opposition

MOPR, 251

Mosca, Gaetano, 236

Munich: Communist revolt of 1919,
197; Munich conference of 1938,
362

Narodniki, 37, 47

National Socialism, see Fascism,
Germany

Nationalism, 195, 211, 216. See also
Foreign policy

Nationalization: of industry, 43, 88-
89, 159-160, 169-170; of land,
47-49; of retail trade, 313, 316

Nazism, see Fascism, Germany,
Treaties

Near East, and Soviet foreign policy,
206, 365

Nepmen, 118, 133

New Economic Policy (NEP): date
of promulgation, 93; central meas-
ures, 93; effect on production, 95;
Bukharin's views on, 103; role of
trade unions, 106; political prob-
lems at end, 115; conflicting eco-
nomic goals, 167—169; and wage
differentials, 184; and collective
bargaining, 320. See also Indus-
try, Lenin

Nicholas II, 21

NKVD, see Secret police, Terror

Nominating procedures, see Elec-
tions

Northrop, F. S. C., 8-9

Nurses and midwives, 281

OGPU, see Secret police

Opposition, political: Bolshevik alli-
ances with, 34-35, 121-122;
influence on development of
Bolshevism, 116; elimination of,
118-124, 126-128, 145, 223, 230,
234; and early Bolshevik leniency,
127; and local Soviets, 134-135;
and Party Control Commissions,
149, 150; views suppressed by
Stalin, 149-151; motivations, 153;
and doctrine of no class struggle,
223; and Stalin's views on free
discussion, 223, 230; role in satel-
lite states, 375-376, See also
Bukharin, Group for Democratic
Centralism, Left Opposition, Left
Wing Communists, Purges, Social-

498

Index

1st Revolutionaries, Trotsky, Work-
ers' Opposition

Opportunism, 113-114. See also
Cynicism, Masses

Osoaviakhim, 251

Pacts, see Treaties
Pareto, Vilfredo, 3, 6, 417
Parliamentarism, 29-32, 40. See also
Bourgeoisie, Capitalism, Democ-
racy

Patronage, 173-175
Peasants: political role before 1917,
24-27; holdings under Stolypin
reforms, 26-27; pre-1917 Bolshe-
vik attitude toward, 33, 35, 40,
46-47, 48-51; revolts against War
Communism, 92, 122-123; rights
under NEP, 93; Trotsky's concep-
tion of relations with workers,
99-100; as crux of post-NEP
reconstruction quarrels, 100-101,
104, 110-111; Bukharin's views
on, 103-104; and Constituent
Assembly, 120; access to higher
education, 238; and workers as
Marxist social classes, 239-240;
income tax rate for, 345. See also
Agriculture, Collective farms, Col-
lectivization, Cooperatives, Narod-
niki, Socialist Revolutionaries
Persia, 206
Personality and national character,

395, 397-398, 409
Physicians, 280
Piatnitsky, O., 75-77
Planning, economic: Trotsky's views
on, 99-100; setting of goals, 300-
302; and mass participation, 301-
302; and socialist competition,
301-302; and profit motive, 303-
306; and collective agreements,
320-323; role of collective farms,
336-338; agricultural output, 336-
338; kbor day credits on farms,
342. See also Five Year Plans,
Industry, Labor, Production
Plant committees, see Factory com-
mittees

Plekhanov, G. V., 29, 32
Poland: revolution of 1920, 198;
partition of, 364, 389-390; status
after World War II, 367-368
Police, see Secret police
Police, Tsarist, relations with Rus-
sian Marxists, 76-77
Policy:

formulation, national: mass par-
ticipation, 42; role of intuition,
54, 62, 113-114; role of Supreme
Soviet, 260-264; role of Politburo
and Stalin, 264-269

formulation in Party: before
1917, 65, 72-76; role of factional-
ism, 75-76; democratic centralism,
139-140; rank-and-file participa-
tion, 146-152; in local units, 269-
270; and policy discussions, 274

formulation in: factories, 164-
169; Coinmunist International,
200-201; local Soviets, 270-274;
industry, 300-308, 318-320, 321-
323; trade unions, 327-331; col-
lective farms, 336-340

execution: and freedom of dis-
cussion, 151-152; capitalist and
socialist methods compared, 169-
170; role of inspection and control
organs, 170; role of secret police,
170-171; and use of competing
bureaucracies, 171-172; and Party
controls, 286-290. See also Au-
thority

Politburo: formation and duties,
141-142; figures on membership,
141; relationship to Central Com-
mittee, 142; early methods of
decision-making, 142-144; con-
flicts over Trotsky's Novyi Kurs,
155; role in 1927 revolution in
China, 212; selection of members,
247; and Stalin, 264-269; scope
of decisions, 267-268; and eco-
nomic planning, 300-301. See also
Authority, Central Committee,
Elite, Monolithism
Popular controls, see Democracy
Popular front, 355-359, 373-374

Index

499

Population of USSR, 95
Potemkin mutiny of 1905, 79
Potsdam agreement, 369, 378, 380
Power, balance of, see Balance of

power

Power, concentration of, see Au-
thority

Predstaviteli vlasti, see Bureaucracy
Preobrazhensky, E., 100, 150, 167
Production, industrial: increase un-
der First Five Year Plan, 186; and
profits, 303-305; and collective
agreements, 322; transfer of means
to state, 410, 424-425; output of
coal and iron compared with U. S.,
456. See also Competition, Incen-
tives, Industry, Planning
Profits, 304-306, 310
Proletariat, see Dictatorship, Masses,

Workers

Propaganda, 78-79, 192, 253, 271
Property in land: under Stolypin re-
forms, 26-27; abolition of, 47-51;
collective and private, 333-334,
342-347. See also Collective farms,
Nationalization, Peasants
Provisional Government, 36, 37
Purges of 1936-1938, 227-228

Radek, Karl, 204, 229-230

Rapallo, sec Treaties

Rationing, 92, 312

Recognition of USSR, 207, 208

Red Army, 171, 380-386, 394

Re-democratization campaigns: In
local Soviets, 131-135, 275-276;
in Party, 233, 249, 274r-275; in
trade tinions, 328; on collective
farms, 339-340; cyclical nature of,
339-340, 403. See also Democ-
racy, Equality, Inequality, Self-
criticism

Referendum, 70

Resources, basic and circulating,
304r-305

Responsibility, avoidance of, 168,
172, 285, 291. See also Clique

Retail trade, 311*3)5. See also Dis-
tribution

Revolution: theoretical role of prole-
tariat in, 29, 31, 36, 40, 41, 43-
44, 49, 50-53, 55-56, 58, 193,
196; Trotsky's theory of perma-
nent revolution, 102; and foreign
policy, 102, 111-113, 192-202,
208-217, 350-351, 357-358, 361,
372-376, 38^-388, 393-394, 404-
405; Stalin's theory of socialism in
one country, 111-112; "revolution
from above," 231; and satellite
states, 373-376, 394. See also
Foreign policy, Lenin

Revolution of 1905: viewpoint of
bourgeoisie, 22-23; peasant pro-
gram, 25; Bolshevik views, 33-35;
Lenin's dictatorship slogan, 33, 51,
232; Trotsky's views, 34, 52-53;
Menshevik views, 34, 52; role of
Soviets, 41—42; Bolshevik role in
Potemkin mutiny, 79

Rewards, see Bonuses, Equality, In-
centives, Inequality

Riazanov, 147

Right Opposition, 149, 151. See also
Bukharin, Opposition, Rykov,
Tomsky

Riza Shall Pahlavi, 206

RKK, see Conflict commissions

Robinson, G. T., 26

Rumania, 364-365

Russian Social Democratic Labor
Party: founded in 1898, 28; Mani-
festo of 1898, 29; views on land
nationalization, 48-49; factional
conflicts: over revolution and
world politics, 51-53, over Party
democracy, 67-70, and Party dis-
cipline, 72-74, over terrorist activ-
ities, 80-81; Manifesto against
World War I, 56; Bolsheviks* split
with Mensheviks, 60; Second Con-
gress of 1903, 60; pre-1917 struc-
ture, 64-65; role of intellectuals,
72; frequency of Congresses and
Conferences, 74; policy formula-
tion, 74, 75; freedom of discussion,
74-75; relations with Tsarist po-
lice, 76-77; selection of leaders,

500

Index

77-78; use of propaganda, 78-79;
attitude toward expropriations,
80-81. See also Communist Party,
Mensheviks, Opposition
Rykov, A. L, 106

Salaries, see Income, Wages

Satellite states, 373-376, 394

Savings, 185, 308-309

Scientists, 280, 282, 283

Secret police: date founded, 125;
criticized by Lenin, 126; active in
economic field, 126; figures on
growth of, 126; and popular sup-
port for Bolsheviks, 137-138; and
policy execution, 170-171; and so-
cial antagonisms, 240; and eco-
nomic incentives, 308; role in
satellite states, 394. See also Terror

Self-criticism: officially defined, 232;
political functions, 234, 403-404;
use in selection of Party leaders,
248-249, 251-252, 275; in Su-
preme Soviet sessions, 263-264;
as weapon against cliques, 293; in
trade unions, 328-329. See also
Aggression, Democracy, Demo-
cratic centralism

Sel'sovety (rural Soviets), see Soviets

Semeistvennost, see "Familyness"

Shcherbakov, Alexander, 387

Sheftsvo, see Patronage

Skhod, 135

Social mobility in USSR, 244-246.
See also Equality, Inequality,
Status

Socialism: in one country, 102, 111-
112, 196; system of distribution,
187; achieved according to Stalin,
239. See also Bolshevism, Capi-
talism, Communism

Social Democracy, Russian, see Rus-
sian Social Democratic Labor
Party

Social Democrats, German, 196, 352,
356

Socialist International, 29

Socialist Revolutionaries, 120-123,
127, 130

Sokol'nikov, G. Y., 141

Sorel, Georges, 399, 424

Source materials, Soviet, 12-14

Soviet, Supreme: elections to, 250;
Party control over, 252, 260-264;
theoretical role in policy formula-
tion, 260; ratification of policy,
262-264. See also Policy, Self-
criticism

Soviets, Congress of, 128-129, 142-
143

Soviets, local: early Bolshevik views
of role of, 37, 41-42, 128-129,
232; relation to Party, 129-138,
250-253, 272-273; elections ver-
sus cooption, 132; figures on turn-
over in city Soviets, 133; frequency
of elections, 250; powers under
1936 Constitution, 270-271; duties
of city and rural Soviets, 271; cen-
tralization of authority, 272-273;
1939 figures on deputies, 281; au-
thority in industry, 287; and col-
lective farms, 336-538. See aho
Democracy, Masses, Re-democra-
tization

Spartacist Union, 197

Stakhanov, Alexei, 243

Stakhanovite movement, 235, 243-
244, 302, 307. See also Incentives,
Inequality, Production

Stalin, L V.: influence of Marxism
on, 113-114; as infallible leader,
229, 267

general views on; socialism in
one country, 111-112; "rotten lib-
eralism," 157, 230; withering away
of state, 222-224; concept of eco-
nomic and political freedom, 225;
role of Soviet worker, 227; repu-
diation of economic equality, 238,
239; socialism and social classes,
239-240; equality of opportunity,
241

views on government: on bu-
reaucracy, 175-176; on individual
versus mass trials, 227-228; en-
courages mass criticism of bureau-
crats, 235; on voters' rights,

Index

501

251-252; and elections to Council
of Ministers, 262; role of local
Soviets, 270

role in Party: alleged organizer
of Tiflis robbery, 80; as practical
administrator up to 1924, 109;
member of first Politburo, 141; on
authority of Politburo, 142; and
Control Commissions, 148-149;
suppresses opposition, 149-151,
230; on Party democracy, 155-
156; on freedom of discussion,
156-157; on monolithic Party,
157, 227; on ,class antagonisms
and political opposition, 223; de-
fines relationship between Party
and masses, 231-232; use of
cadres, 239, 255; myth of demo-
cratic leadership, 266-267

and foreign policy: popular-
front tactics, 112; on 1923 German
revolution, 209-210; policy in
1927 Chinese revolution, 213; role
in formulating foreign policy, 264-
267, 389-390; on fascism, 352-
354; on capitalistic encirclement,
361; on origin of World War II,
371-372; on postwar China, 380,
381; on war and revolution, 384;
attitude toward German prole-
tariat, 387; personality as factor in
Soviet expansionism, 395, 397—
398

and industry: on capital invest-
ment, 109-110; attacks equaliza-
tion of wages, 186-187; praises
Stakhanovites, 235; on manual
and mental labor, 242; on distri-
bution of goods, 313

and collectivization of agricul-
ture: 1927 proposal, 101, 110-
111; on Party's role in collective
farms, 335. See also Bolshevism,
Opposition

State, Bolshevik views on, 40-43,
180, 222-224. See also Authority,
Dictatorship, Lenin, Stalin
State, withering away of, 45-46,
222-224

Status:

system: composition of intelli-
gentsia, 240; prospects of social
mobility, 244--246; in bureaucracy,
278-283; described in Soviet law,
279, 282; figures for Soviet bu-
reaucracy, 280-281; and alloca-
tion of authority, 286-290

differentials: in pre-1917 Bol-
shevik theory, 42-45; eliminated
by Trotsky, 160-161; need upheld
by Bolsheviks, 161-162, 175-176;
and Party membership, 168; and
Bolshevik theories of bureaucracy,
175-176; development of, 236-
237; and access to higher educa-
tion, 237-238; encouraged by
Stalin, 239; external symbols of,
239; for manual and mental labor,
241-243, 278; and cultural dif-
ferences, 245-246; and salaries,
283; and noneconomic rewards,
283-284; objective need for under
industrialism, 284, 406-407; and
rewards in agriculture, 340-342.
See also Equality, Inequality,
Wages

Stolypin legislation, 26-27

Stresemann, Gustav, 206

Strikes: role in Bolshevik theory,
180-181; 1921 failure in Ger-
many, 201. See also Labor,
Workers

Students in universities, 280

Stunner, W. G., 412

Sun Yat-sen, 211-212

Tuxes, 310-311, 345

Teachers, 281

Technical personnel, 281, 341

Teheran, 369-370

Terror: pre-1917 Bolshevik views on,
71-72; and expropriations, 79-81;
denounced by Kamenev and Zino-
viev, 125; opposed by Seventh
Party Congress, 125; political use
by Party, 127-128; legalized, 127;
Stalinist justifications for, 222-

502

Index

223; class basis of, 227. See also
Secret police

Thermidor, 116

Third International, see Communist
International

Thorez, Maurice, 356

Thrift, see Savings

Tiflis, 80, 81

Timasheff, N. S., 20-21

Tito, Marshal, 368, 386, 416

Tomsky, M. P., 106-107, 165, 166,
184, 186

Totalitarian aspects of USSR, see
Authority, Monolithism

Trade unions:

role of: in pre-1917 Bolshevik
theory, 61; defined by Party in
1929, 106; in worker-management
relations, 160, 164-167, 168, 171,
176-182; as "transmission belts,"
179; reformulated under Five Year
Plans, 181-182; in setting wage
rates, 319^-320; in collective agree-
ments, 320-323

Party control over, 106-107;
leaders replaced by Party, 181;
figures on membership, 317; role
of factory committees, 321-322,
329; role of conflict commissions,
325; leadership selection in, 328-
329; turnover of local leaders, 329;
function of regional councils, 330-
331. See also Ail-Union Central
Council, Strikes, Tomsky
Treaties and pacts: Brest-Litovsk,
143-144, 192-194; Rapallo, 203-
205; secret pact with pre-Nazi
Germany, 205-206; Locarno, 206,
207; Nazi-Soviet Pact of 1939,
265-266, 363-366, 396; Franco-
Soviet Treaty of 1935, 359; 1935
pact with Czechoslovakia, 359;
1933 treaty with Italy, 359; 1936
agreement with Britain, 359; 1937
pact with China, 359; proposed
anti-Axis pact, 362; 1941 pact
with Japan, 366; 1945 Sino-Soviet
treaty, 380. See also Balance of
power, Foreign policy

Triangle, 167, 168

Triumvirate, 101, 102, 144

Trotsky, Leon: theory of permanent
revolution, 102; shifts from au-
thoritarian to liberal viewpoint,
153-155

views on the state: defends use
of terror, 127; introduces social
equality, 160-161; complains of
growth of bureaucracy, 171-172;
advocates mass participation, 173;
attacked by Lenin, 179

views on foreign policy: revolu-
tion and world politics, 52-53,
201-202; advocates Leftist policy
in China, 107, 212-213; and
Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, 143-144;
on 1918 revolution in Germany,
196; 1921 appraisal of capitalism,
201; on 1923 revolution in Ger-
many, 210

role in Party: attitude toward
system of authority, 101-102, 143,
153-155; member of first Polit-
buro, 141; accuses Stalin of pack-
ing Congresses, 150

views on economic problems:
1920 proposals for NEP, 92; on
labor and economic planning, 98-

- 100, 178-179; on agricultural
problems, 100-101; on role of
trade unions and class conflicts,
178-179. See also Left Opposi-
tion, Opposition

Turkey, 206, 365

United front, see Popular front
United Nations Organization, 369-

370
United States: relations with USSR,

359, 367, 369-373, 376-383, 392,

399-401. See also Balance of

power, Foreign policy

Values: role in scientific investiga-
tion, 2, 11-12; in comparing living
standards, 225-226; in Soviet eco-
nomic aims, 316; limits on choice
of, 412

Index

503

Varga, Eugene, 387, 424
Volodarsky, V., 120
Voters, 251-253. See also Elections
Voznesensky, N., 372

Wages:

differentials: in pre-1917 Bol-
shevik theory, 42-43, 45; under
War Communism, 183; during
NEP, 184; pressure toward elimi-
nation of, 185-186; and social
inequality, 283

rates: determination of, 318—
321; and incentives in industry,
319-320; excluded from collective
bargaining, 320; and conflict com-
missions, 324. See also Bonuses,
Class struggle, Equality, Incen-
tives, Inequality

War, 54-56, 396-397. See also For-
eign policy, Imperialism, Masses,
Revolution, World War

War Communism, 89-93, 164^-166,
183-184

Webb, Sidney and Beatrice, 135,
137-138, 312

Weber, Max, 418

Women, 241

Workers, industrial: number before
1917, 32; role in Bolshevik theory,
40, 44-45, 227; under system of
patronage, 173-175; access to
higher education, 237-238; and
peasants as Marxist social classes,
239-240; membership in Party,
257-259; total number of urban

and rural in 1939, 283; and Direc-
tor's Fund, 305-306; membership
in trade unions, 317; relationship
to employers, 317-319; benefits
under collective agreements, 321-
323; legal obligations, 324; chan-
nels for airing grievances, 324,
329-330; manager's right to hire
and fire, 325-327. See also Aggres-
sion, Authority, Democracy, Dic-
tatorship, Factory manager, Labor,
Status

Workers' Control, 159-160, 166
Workers' Opposition, 93, 145, 165.

See also Opposition
Workers* and Peasants' Inspection,

170, 173

World War I, 26-27, 54-57
World War II, 366-370, 386-388,
392

Yakovlev, Y., 110
Yalta, 369

Yudin, P. F., 387-388
Yugoslavia, 368

Zemstvo, 24, 129

Zhdanov, A. A.} 167, 226-227, 254,
258-259

Zinoviev, G. E.: conflicts with Party
leaders, 73-74; resigns from Cen-
tral Committee, 125; on Party
dictatorship, 137; member of first
Politburo, 141; and Communist
International, 199; on 1923 revo-
lution in Germany, 209