Finished my history essay in the afternoon... so now I'll just cross my fingers and hope that they all do well when the four essays come back next week. Btw, next week's the last week of semester... + one week study break, then exams already... and after that, I think I'm going home. yup.
Interested in a boring read? Well... if you've got nothing else better to do... =)
· Why are the 1930s in Russia often referred to as “extraordinary times”?
“In the name of Marxism”: Mediating between ideals and reality during the 1930s in Soviet Russia
The consolidation of Stalin’s leadership in the Soviet Union by 1927 brought about key policy changes which were to mould the state for decades to come, namely the implementation of intensive industrialisation, collectivisation of agriculture, and the purging of “bourgeois” elements, which was reflected in the 1928 Shakhty trial of engineers who were accused of “wrecking” (sabotaging) the Soviet economy. [1] These initiatives stood in marked contrast to the New Economic Policy (NEP) of the 1920s, which adopted elements of the market economy and private trade, and hence were seen as a threat to Marx’s postulation of a classless socialist society, one that was liberated from capitalist exploitation. [2] While this shift in policy has been given various definitions by scholars, such as “[Stalin’s] revolution from above” (which suggests that change originated from party leadership rather than popular clamouring), [3] and “[a process] of building socialism” (which hints that the drive towards socialism was not the unrelenting “natural” force that Marx made it out to be), [4] they generally agree that the 1930s was a watershed or at least, an exacerbation of previous trends in Russian history. Sheila Fitzpatrick has referred to this decade as “extraordinary”, both in terms of systemic change and individual experiences, a period in which living a “normal” life was but a distant dream. [5] The essay will then attempt to chart out the aspects of life and policy changes which were seen to be an anomaly during the 1930s, while at the same time cross-comparing their intended functions and consequences vis-à-vis the models of comprehending Stalinism available to us, and hence evaluating whether Soviet Russia of the 1930s be understood as “extraordinary” as such.
Fitzpatrick argues that the central defining characteristic of Russian society in the 1930s is the endemic shortages of almost every consumer good, [6] ranging from apartments to bread. This was the result of both the collectivisation of agriculture and forced industrialisation (the start of the Great Break to create the economic foundations of socialism in 1929); the former resulting in peasants and kulaks fleeing to the cities in colossal proportions – the urban population of the Soviet Union leaped from 26.3 million (1926) to 55.9 million (1939) – and the latter reinforcing the urban strains by virtually ignoring the production of consumer products in the First Five-Year-Plan. [7] This was to shape the “Homo Sovieticus” from then on, whose existence was predicated on strategies of survival. [8]
While the persistence of material deprivations was certainly problematic, as evidenced by Stalin’s personal attention to the issue [9] and the potentiality of it cascading into social upheaval, the notion of “extraordinariness” becomes more tempered if we were to consider society’s responses to such a situation. Fitzpatrick has noted that Russians, though displaying scepticism, genuinely believed that shortages were a necessary sacrifice for the material bountifulness that would take hold once industrialisation was realised. [10] This bears similarities to Schöpflin’s argument that the pre-revolutionary peasant worldview is one that is heavily circumscribed by religion, lending itself to blind faith in the future and messianic expectations. [11] Therefore, there seems to be a line of continuity between the Tsarist era and 1930s Russia in terms of responses towards societal problems, a perception that they would somehow iron out by themselves, that “this too will pass”. [12]
It is interesting to note the regime’s responses to the problem of shortages, as it could be interpreted as “extraordinary” or “normal”, depending on one’s vantage point. Seemingly ironically, the state embarked on a massive promotion on “cultured trade” and conspicuous consumption to resolve the discontent generated by the shortages; the civilising mission, rather than the promise of abundance, was the regime’s solution to scarcity. [13] To this end, bread rationing was repealed in 1935 and “model” stores (complete with impeccable customer services) were established in major cities throughout Russia. This is unusual because it seems logical to assume that the encouragement of consumption would foreshadow social inequalities, insomuch as it favoured those who could afford these ostentatious goods, and that Stakhanovites were lavishly rewarded with apartments and automobiles. However, this does not appear to be so if we consider that the Soviet leadership saw their actions not as “betraying” the revolution, but rather, an indicator of what Stalinism was capable of achieving, thus reiterating the particular mindset (optimism) of the 1930s. [14] The promulgation of “cultured consumerism” is also compatible with broader European ideals of modernity, progress and civilisation, as evidenced by the commonality of utilising commodity exhibitions as markers of “progress” – Kotkin has argued that above all, Stalinism should be viewed as an era of “progressive modernity”, rather than to focus on Marxist ideology or the brutality of the regime as its defining hallmark. [15] More importantly, the creation of the “civilised” consumer had an educative element in it – just as Stalin was conceived as the (all-knowing) father figure of the masses, the enlightened salesperson stood in a position of superiority to the ignorant customer. [16] It was understood that consumers’ preferences were at times not culturally appropriate, and hence it was the duty (indeed, obligation) of the salesperson to impart “good taste” to him / her. [17] There was also a concurrent emphasis on rote learning and teacher authority; experimentation was admonished. Therefore, culture became something to be learned (as opposed to discovered), and this is closely aligned to the Stalinist conception of the state as authoritative and paternalistic.
Shortages also brought about social stratification of a different kind as compared to Marxist theory – status was determined not by one’s relations to the means of production (since the state monopolised the production and distribution of goods), but by one’s level of accessibility to scarce goods. [18] An intricate network of blat (mutual connections involving goods) and patron-client relations emerged to circumvent the inefficiencies of the distributive mechanism, of which the latter was to emerge as a raison d’être for the (Great) purging of communist elites in 1937 – 38. [19] These relations, euphemistically crouched in terms of friendship, were ubiquitous in the 1930s as demand always outweighed supply; even if one belonged to a privileged class and could gain access to the “closed distribution” stores catered for them, there was no guarantee that they would obtain their desired goods. [20] The discussion of blat and patronage is significant because the risk-taking and personal relations involved constitutes a tacit challenge to the official mindset of rational planning and utilitarianism, and hence lends its weight to the revisionist interpretation of Stalinism, that is, Soviet society is clearly capable of marshalling human agency and should not be seen as passive, which is what the totalitarian approach advocates. [21]
Collectivisation and rapid industrialisation also left its marks on the structure of Russian society. As noted earlier, there was a massive influx of peasants and kulaks into the cities, overwhelming the urban services and causing attendant social problems like hooliganism and drunkenness. [22] While one could dismiss such a phenomenon as typical of rural-urban migrations, what is “extraordinary” is its magnitude, concentration in time, and the political atmosphere [23] - kulaks escaped not to seek a better life, but to escape state persecution. The inexorable nature of this migration indelibly left its impact on Soviet society; Lewin talks about the “ruralisation” of cities, [24] Fitzpatrick argues that one cannot coherently conceive of class (in the Marxian sense) as an identity because of the immense social mobility the migration entailed, [25] and it could also be argued that the resulting vacuum in the agricultural sector engendered the famines of 1932. This anomie and societal disorientation meant that the people increasingly looked to the state to resolve these tensions, whether this meant outright coercion (like policing and implementing internal passports) or “building” socialism, reinforcing its centrality in Soviet life. [26] Besides maintaining social order, the 1930s also solidified the notion of the welfare state; despite the pervasive bureaucratic red tape, the state expanded its role to include normative interventions, such as public health inspections and separating children from negligent parents. [27] In this respect, Soviet Russia bore a striking resemblance to continental Europe’s model of the welfare state (though to its extreme manifestation), and it also inherited the traditions of the Enlightenment and the French Revolution – the belief that individuals could be made through science and rational inquiry was derived from the former, and the latter inspired the Russian revolution through the notion that “revolutionary politics” could “cure” and mould the social order. [28] The question of class identities is imperative because it still determined one’s life chances and relationship to the state, independent of blat and emigration. [29] Dekulakisation and “self-denunciation” did not mean that henceforth, a priest would be safe from the social purges of “harmful elements” that ran concurrently with the Party “cleansing” of 1937 – 38, and upward social mobility in the form of higher education was greatly enhanced if one qualified for Soviet “affirmative action”, that is, by belonging to the proletariat or peasant class [30] - class identities in 1930s Russia still remained firmly ascribed, not attained.
The rural-urban migration throughout the decade also had its impact on the family and altered the role of women. [31] In the 1920s, the party leadership’s attitudes towards the family were antagonistic; they saw it as “bourgeois” and “patriarchal”. [32] There was a fair proportion of communist members who believed in equality of the sexes then (in this area it could be seen as sharing congruent experiences with Western liberal-democracies), and emancipated women saw their role firmly in the workplace, arguing that children should be looked after by the state. [33] However, the regime’s stance clearly shifted in the 1930s, and this could be interpreted as an expedient solution to the social decay then, for example, absconding husbands and abandoned children, rather than to see this as “the great retreat” from revolutionary ideals. [34] To achieve this goal, the state passed legislation that complicated the divorce process, and mandated that men were to provide for their children from their previous marriages, [35] which again illustrates the state’s belief that ideals could be imposed and regulated. The emergence of the wives’ movement (“lady activists”) in 1936 also reflected the state’s emphasis on the family and a “cultured” lifestyle. Their role was to maintain a well-kept household, and to improve the aesthetics of the cities – all of which was to coexist uneasily with their purported equal status with men. [36] While it might seem strange that the state was in synergy with “bourgeois” housewives, one has to remember that the former equated cultural advancement with material progress. [37] In time to come, the wives’ movement was to take the lead in preparing women for war, thus illustrating their usefulness to the state. All in all, the institution of the family appears to be a beacon of stability during the difficult times of the 1930s.
The discussion of 1930s Russia would not be complete if one neglects the atmosphere of surveillance and the presence of “others”, whether imagined, social or political. One of the fundamental contradictions that an authoritarian state must face is how to gauge popular opinion while imposing censorship and being hostile to free speech. [38] To achieve this, the NKVD had their own agents to collate information by eavesdropping in mundane situations like the bread queue or the kolkhoz market, and investigating suicides conscientiously for they believed it was an indicator of the wider socio-political wellbeing. [39] Another source of obtaining information was through the citizens writing letters to the government; although these usually involved individual petitions for the state to resolve personal grievances (thus reinforcing the culture of dependency), there was also a substantial amount of letters that provided feedback on public policy – indeed, Soviet officials trumpeted that such letter-writing illustrated “democracy” in its “most direct” form. [40] The effects of such a system of obtaining information is the inevitable atomisation of society, as seen from the fact that the regime rebuked and actively discouraged the writing of collective letters. [41] This certainly helped to buttress the regime, for it strangled the possibility of popular uprisings (there were none during the 1930s), and unwittingly reinforced the family as a sanctuary against the active penetration of the state. However, it could not be considered “extraordinary” as covert operations and censorship are common practices of totalitarian regimes; Stalinism and Nazism bore much resemblance in this respect.
The late-1930s is usually remembered for the Great Terror, where it was not “bourgeois” elements that were targeted, but rather the communist elites. The term “terror” differs from “surveillance” in the sense that the latter merely involves the supervision of citizens, while the former encompasses state violence, mass arrests, and more importantly, its element of randomness. [42] Previous periods of state persecution was usually aimed at specific classes, such as the kulaks and “former people”, but the 1937 – 38 purges was a crusade against “enemies of the people”, which essentially meant that the notion of class identities was obliterated. [43] The origins of the Great Terror is usually seen to be found in the assassination of Sergei Kirov (Leningrad party leader) in 1934 and the subsequent “show trials” of Kamenev and Zinoviev, as well as the state’s conviction to rid itself of political “undesirables” as the possibility of war loomed ever nearer. [44] As political elites were accused of undermining the revolution through their patronage of clients, the vicious cycle of “unmasking” the “masked” was fuelled by denunciations to protect individual interests and the “guilt-by-association” function of the Terror, which involved entire families and client networks. [45] The political purging was “extraordinary” because of the proletarian backgrounds of the victims, but yet it could be another vindication that the Stalinist regime was driven by the notion that political will could be harnessed into social engineering, and it indeed attempted to do so.
Hagenloh has argued that there was another “cleansing” that took place concurrently with the political purges, and that is the purging of social marginals. [46] This mass policing of social “undesirables”, for example, ex-convicts and recidivist criminals, is fundamentally different from the political purging because it has its origins in the 1920s, culminating in 1937 where the line between “political” and “regular” criminals became increasingly blurred. [47] While the popular understanding of the internal passport system (implemented in 1932) is that it sought to stem the influx of peasants, it also served to support mass policing through social control vis-à-vis compulsory registration and catalogue cards, of which the latter included class origins and possible previous criminal convictions. According to Hagenloh, the Stalinist regime was trying to suppress social deviancy that was a product of its own socio-economic system (speculation comes about as a result of shortages), but the Party leadership did not perceive it as such, thus illustrating its belief that society could be ordered “from above”. [48] The central contradiction of the attempt to quash social delinquents was that as an increasing number of cities was classified as “regime cities” (therefore coming under the passport system), there were less regions for the “others” to go to, thus resulting in a permanent mass of “floating expellees” which theoretically could not be assimilated with the mainstream, and hence they were increasingly seen to be at the root of social disorder. [49] Juxtaposing the political and social purges, one could argue that the 1930s were characterised by the arbitrary nature of the repressions, the mass movement of people (which stood in contrast to the relatively static nature of pre-Revolutionary Russia), and where an incessant obsession with “order” led to regulation of all sorts.
Lastly, one should also remember that 1930s Russia had its fair share of beneficiaries which usually gets ignored due to the overwhelming nature of the shortages and the Great Terror. This was a period of material improvement for the Stakhanovites, where the intelligentsia was “proletarianised” – the “Brezhnev generation” of leaders originated from this decade. [50] The youth were generally more enthusiastic about keeping the revolutionary spirit alive, as demonstrated by the Komsomol activists who fought against privilege and corruption (they thought of themselves as the vanguard of the revolution), and the idolising of heroes, especially aviators and polar explorers. [51] This suggests that the 1930s was also “extraordinary” because it provided new opportunities for the “relevant” classes, especially the Stakhanovites who epitomised the notion that just as terror was arbitrary, so too was rewards. This generation, who “owned” the revolution, also symbolised the broader “Soviet mentalité” of looking towards the future, to “see life as it was becoming”, rather than to focus on the present. [52]
In conclusion, the essay has looked at the twin factors of forced collectivisation of agriculture and rapid industrialisation, both of which were to form the basis for Stalin’s socialist utopia, and examined how it shaped the 1930s prevalence of shortages, political and social “terror”, and the structure of the family. While one can conceive of “extraordinariness” in isolation (that is, adopting a social history methodology), especially if we consider the scale and magnitude of social change, one should compare the 1930s in time and across models of interpreting Stalinism. Through such a perspective, one sees similarities across nation-building theories: in the “modernity and progress” interpretation (the belief that “rationality” can mould society, and the embrace of industrialisation as a “modernising” force), the totalitarian model (the idea that both fascism and Soviet communism used surveillance to maintain their hegemony), the revisionist approach (which postulates that people did see “reality” and saw the supposed hypocrisy of the Stalinist regime), and the “state as cornerstone” view (which adds another example to the increasing tendency for the state to galvanise the nation, to monopolise economic resources and the use of violence). It would then be apparent that Soviet Russia of the 1930s was “extraordinary” in terms of absolutes, but it was certainly not as far as the comparative approach is concerned.
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Bibliography
1. Fitzpatrick, Sheila, Everyday Stalinism – Ordinary Life in Extraordinary Times: Soviet Russia in the 1930s, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1999.
2. Hagenloh, Paul, ‘”Socially harmful elements” and the Great Terror’, in S. Fitzpatrick (ed.), Stalinism: New Directions, New York & London, Routledge, 2000, pp. 286 – 308.
3. Hessler, Julie, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, in S. Fitzpatrick (ed.), Stalinism: New Directions, New York & London, Routledge, 2000, pp. 177 – 209.
4. Hoffmann, David, ‘Introduction: Interpretations of Stalinism’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The Essential Readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, pp. 2 – 7.
5. Kotkin, Stephen, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The Essential Readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, pp. 107 – 126.
6. Lewin, Moshe, ‘Grappling with Stalinism’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The Essential Readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, pp. 42 – 61.
7. Schöpflin, George, Politics in Eastern Europe, Oxford, Blackwell, 1993.
[1] Sheila Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism – Ordinary life in extraordinary times: Soviet Russia in the 1930s, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1999, pp. 2 & 5.
[2] Stephen Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The essential readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, pp. 114 – 115.
[3] Quoted in Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, pp. 117.
[4] Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, p. 115.
[5] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 1.
[6] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 2.
[7] Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, p. 118.
[8] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 1.
[9] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 45.
[10] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 89.
[11] George Schöpflin, Politics in Eastern Europe, Oxford, Blackwell, 1993, p. 28.
[12] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 222.
[13] Julie Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, in S. Fitzpatrick (ed.), Stalinism – New Directions, New York & London, Routledge, pp. 184 – 185.
[14] Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, p. 184.
[15] Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, p. 109.
[16] Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, p. 193.
[17] Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, p. 194.
[18] Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, p. 178.
[19] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 109.
[20] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 114.
[21] David Hoffmann, ‘Introduction: Interpretations of Stalinism’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The essential readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, p. 3.
[22] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 53.
[23] Moshe Lewin, ‘Grappling with Stalinism’, in D. Hoffmann (ed.), Stalinism – The essential readings, Oxford, Blackwell, 2003, p. 49.
[24] Lewin, ‘Grappling with Stalinism’, p. 48.
[25] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 11.
[26] Lewin, ‘Grappling with Stalinism’, p. 49.
[27] Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, p. 108.
[28] Kotkin, ‘Magnetic mountain: Stalinism as a civilisation’, p. 111.
[29] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 12.
[30] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 55.
[31] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 139.
[32] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 142.
[33] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 142.
[34] Quoted in Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 143.
[35] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, pp. 152 – 155.
[36] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 159.
[37] Hessler, ‘Cultured trade: The Stalinist turn towards consumerism’, p. 201.
[38] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 164.
[39] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 172.
[40] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, pp. 165 & 175.
[41] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 176.
[42] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 190.
[43] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 192.
[44] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 192.
[45] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 202.
[46] Paul Hagenloh, ‘”Socially harmful elements” and the Great Terror’, in S. Fitzpatrick (ed.), Stalinism – New Directions, New York & London, Routledge, 2000, p. 286.
[47] Hagenloh, ‘”Socially harmful elements” and the Great Terror’, p. 303.
[48] Hagenloh, ‘”Socially harmful elements” and the Great Terror’, p. 293.
[49] Hagenloh, ‘”Socially harmful elements” and the Great Terror’, p. 298.
[50] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 6.
[51] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 72.
[52] Fitzpatrick, Everyday Stalinism, p. 9.