A history of Russia

by Riazanovsky

  Although the concept of socialist realism sponsored by Stalin and the Politburo was never made entirely clear, it referred ostensibly to a realistic depiction of life in its full revolutionary social dimension, in part in the tradition of Pushkin and Tolstoy and indeed of the main stream of modern Russian literature. But because the Party had its own view of life, based essentially on Marxist cliches misapplied to Russian reality, socialist realism turned into crude and lifeless propaganda. Writers had to depict the achievements of the five-year plans and other "significant" subjects or at least write realistic historical novels. More important, they had to do it in a prescribed manner. Black was to be made black and white with no shades in between. The Soviet hero had to be essentially a paragon of virtue, with no fundamental inner conflicts and no psychological ambiguities. Instead of the grim world around them, authors were urged to see things as they should appear and will appear in the future. Pessimism was banned.

  Not surprisingly, in terms of quality the results of "socialist realism" have been appalling. After Gorky's death in 1936 - a death arranged by Stalin, according to some specialists - no writer of comparable stature rose in Soviet letters. A few gifted men, such as Alexis N. Tolstoy, 1883-1945, the author of popular historical and contemporary novels and Michael Sholokhov, 1905-, who wrote the novels The Quiet Don and Virgin Soil Upturned, describing Don cos-

  sacks in civil war and collectivization, managed to produce good works more or less in line with the requirements of the regime, although they too had to revise their writings from edition to edition to meet changing Party demands. Other talented writers, for instance, Iurii Olesha, failed on the whole to adjust to "socialist realism." More typical Soviet practitioners have turned out simple, topical, and at times interesting, but unmistakably third-rate, pieces. An example is Constantine Simonov, a writer of stories, novelist, playwright, and poet, as well as an editor and war correspondent, who drew international attention by his novel about the defense of Stalingrad, Days and Nights, and his play concerning American attitudes toward the U.S.S.R., The Russian Question. The battle of Stalingrad, however, was depicted also in a great work, Vasily Grossman's long novel Life and Fate, which, together with a few short poems by Anna Akhmatova, is likely to remain as the imperishable literary tribute to the Soviet people in the Second World War. The overwhelming bulk of Soviet literature became extremely monotonous, drab, and lacking in artistry or in any kind of ability. Soviet poetry, especially hampered by the injunction to be simple and easy to understand, as well as socialist and realist, proved to be inferior even to Soviet prose. The government no doubt contributed more to the enjoyment of its readers by publishing on a large scale the Russian classics and world classics in translation. As a matter of fact, most of the best Russian literature during the last few decades has been written abroad. Some of the outstanding expatriate authors were the novelist, story writer, and poet Ivan Bunin and the highly original prose writer with a unique style, Alexis Remizov, who both died in Paris, in 1953 and 1957, respectively. In all fairness, however, one should note a certain revival in Soviet literature since Stalin's death. Yet that revival, too, has a tragic ring. Its leading figures, such as the poet Joseph Brodsky and indeed Alexander Solzhenitsyn himself, were hounded in their native land until their exile abroad, their works and thought forbidden to Soviet readers. Ironically, Solzhenitsyn's writings may well be considered to represent the long-delayed success of socialist realism: they focus on central problems and situations of Soviet life; they deal with common people, in fact all kinds of people; they are meant for the masses; and they are certainly realistic. G. Struve's two books, one on Soviet and the other on emigre writers, should be read together to obtain the best picture available of Russian literature since 1917 and of its hard lot.

  The Arts

  The Soviet record in the arts paralleled that in literature. Again, the twenties, linked closely to the "silver age" and to contemporary trends in the West, were an interesting and vital period. Notably, in architecture functionalism flourished, producing some remarkable buildings, while new and experimental approaches added vigor and excitement to other arts also. However, once "socialist realism" established its hold on Soviet culture, arts in the Soviet Union acquired a most conservative and indeed antiquated character. Impressive in quantity, Soviet

  realistic painting and sculpture are essentially worthless in quality, being in general poor imitations of a bygone style. While Soviet architecture has on the whole had more to offer, it too traveled the sad road from inspired and novel creations in the earlier period of Communist rule to the utterly tasteless and contrived Moscow skyscrapers of Stalin's declining years, exemplified by the much-publicized new Moscow University building. Although certain stirrings were detected after the late dictator's death, and indeed although many modern utilitarian buildings were erected, there was no basic change of orientation in Soviet arts. Music, it is true, was somewhat more fortunate throughout the period, both because of its greater distance from Marxist and "realistic" injunctions - which nevertheless did not prevent the Party from attacking "formalism" and modernism in music and from tyrannizing in that field - and, perhaps, because of the accident of talent. In any case, the one-time figure of the "silver age" and emigre Serge Prokofiev, 1891-1953, the creator of such well-known pieces as the Classical Symphony and Peter and the Wolf, and Dmitrii Shostakovich, 1906-75, together with a few other composers, managed to produce works of lasting value in spite of ideological obstacles.

  Short on creativity and development, certain Soviet arts were long on execution and performance. Again, the high standards were continuations from tsarist days, aided by increased state subsidies and by the fact that schooling and culture spread to more people. Soviet musicians performed brilliantly on many instruments, both at international competitions of the thirties, and again in more recent years when the best among them, such as the violinist David Oistrakh and the pianists Sviatoslav Richter and Emil Gilels, were allowed to tour the world. The ballet, while in a sense stagnant - the clock having stopped for most purposes in 1917 - continued to do its dances beautifully, and was apparently backed by more funds and a better system of schools and selection than in any other country. The Moscow Art Theater is still one of the most remarkable centers of acting anywhere, although unfortunately its school of acting had for a long time a monopoly in the Soviet Union, all other approaches to acting and the theater having been proscribed. Good acting has also characterized many Soviet films. In fact the Soviet cinema continued to be creative longer than other Soviet arts - in part probably because it had no nineteenth-century tradition in the image of which it could be conveniently frozen. Soviet film directors included at least one great figure, Serge Eisenstein, 1898-1948, as well as other men of outstanding ability.

  In the arts as in literature, the years of glasnost brought great promise as well as dislocation and worry.

  Religion

  Religion in the Soviet Union constituted an anomaly, a threat, and a challenge from the Communist point of view. Marxist theory considers it an "opiate of the masses" and finds its raison d'etre in the efforts of the exploiting classes to keep

  the people obedient and docile. Russian practice seemed to add weight to the theory, for the Orthodox Church in Russia was closely linked to the imperial regime, and it naturally sided with the Whites in the Civil War. Clearly, its social basis gone, religion would cease to exist in a socialist society. But this did not occur. Therefore, the Soviet leadership had to compromise and allow religion a highly restricted position in the U.S.S.R., while looking forward to its eventual, much delayed, disappearance. Religion, it might be added, also proved to be one of the main obstacles to the Communist transformation of man and society in other eastern European countries.

  Outright persecution lasted well into the thirties. In addition to executing and exiling many clerics, monks, and Orthodox laymen, confiscating church implements "for victims of famine," and closing churches and converting them into
antireligious museums, the authorities tried to break up the Church from the inside by assisting a modernist "Living Church" group within it - fruitlessly, for the people would not follow that group. After the death in 1925 of Patriarch Tikhon - elected by a Church council in 1918 to resume the patriarchal form of ecclesiastical organization which had been discontinued by Peter the Great - the government prevented any patriarch being elected in his stead, and Church leadership fell to provisional appointees. Yet, according to an official report based on the never-published census of 1936, 55 per cent of Soviet citizens still identified themselves as religious - while many others presumably concealed their belief.

  That stubborn fact in conjunction with the general social stabilization of the thirties made Stalin and the Politburo assume a more tolerant attitude toward religion. The war and the patriotic behavior of the Church in the war added to its acceptance and standing. In 1943 the Church was permitted to elect a patriarch, the statesmanlike Metropolitan Sergius obtaining that position. After his death in 1945, Sergius was succeeded by Alexis, who continued as "Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia" for a quarter of a century. In 1971, following Alexis's death, Pimen was elected patriarch to head the Church, followed in 1990 by Alexis II. The ecclesiastical authorities were also allowed to establish a few theological schools, required to prepare students for the priesthood, and to open a limited number of new churches. The activities of the Union of the Godless and anti-religious propaganda in general were curtailed. In return the patriarchal Church declared complete loyalty to the regime, and supported, for example, its international peace campaigns and its attempts to influence the Balkan Orthodox. More unfortunately, the two co-operated in bringing the two or three million Uniates of former eastern Poland into Orthodoxy. The Church in the U.S.S.R., however, remained restricted to strictly religious, rather than more general social and educational, functions - even the constitution proclaimed merely the freedom of religious confession, as against the freedom of anti-religious propaganda - and, while temporarily tolerated within limits, it remained a designated enemy of Marxist ideology and Communist society. In fact, Khrushchev especially, as well

  as his successors, increased the pressures against religion even when "liberalizing" other aspects of Soviet life. A remarkably tenacious relic of the past, the Church has no future in the Communist view.

  It should be added that other Soviet Christians, such as Baptists, and other religious groups, such as the numerous Moslems, shared their histories with the Orthodox. They, too, led a constricted and precarious existence within a fundamentally hostile system, profiting from relaxations when they occurred and entering a new life as a result of the policy of glasnost and the collapse of the Soviet Union.

  XLII

  THE GORBACHEV YEARS, 1985-91, AND THE COLLAPSE OF THE SOVIET UNION

  The river of time in its flow Carries away all the works of human beings…

  DERZHAVIN

  At present the peoples of the Soviet Union, and to some extent even peoples outside its borders, are in the midst of the Gorbachev-initiated maelstrom, which makes an objective judgment of the situation exceptionally difficult. To be sure, the Soviet leader was not in control of his country and its citizens, and, indeed, he had been repeatedly obtaining results opposite to those intended - after all, Nicholas II also made important contributions to the revolutions of 1917. And as many of our best specialists tell us, it is dangerous to personalize major historical issues, and another Gorbachev or still other lines of development would have produced similar results. But as long as history is an account of what happened and is happening rather than of the logical alternatives, the period of glasnost and perestroika will remain linked to its extraordinary protagonist, whose main assets appear to have been optimism, glibness, and marvelous political agility and adroitness, which enabled him to dance on top of and around historical developments, if not to preside over their course - an obvious transitory figure who long refused to transit.

  Gorbachev's Early Years

  There is no doubt that Gorbachev started the ball rolling. Exactly what he and his original associates, such as Eduard Shevardnadze and Alexander Yakovlev, had in mind when they began reforming the Soviet Union may never become clear, even to them. Suppositions and explanations of their intent abound, but the overwhelming factors in what transpired appear to be the absence of correspondence between plans and reality and the dizzying power of contradictory forces unchained by even slight reform. Recent events in the U.S.S.R. and eastern Europe stunned everyone, especially those who had any regard for the communist system, and that includes by definition the entire Soviet leadership. There may well be, however, one quite major exception to this almost total disjunction between purpose and accomplishment. Gorbachev, Shevardnadze especially, and other prominent Soviet figures insisted that one of the pillars of their new thinking was the absolute realization of the inadmissibility of nuclear war in human

  affairs and, therefore, of the necessity for at least a minimum of international cooperation, in particular between the Soviet Union and the United States. With all qualifications, it can be argued that Soviet foreign policy came to reflect that realization. If so, the gain to the world was incalculable, although the realization itself is elementary and its roots even in the Soviet Union largely preceded Gorbachev. Otherwise, it hardly needs reminding that in his book Perestroika - published in English as well as in Russian in October 1987 and a good way to become acquainted with its author - and even later Gorbachev emphasized the supreme importance of Lenin and the Communist Party in the Soviet Union, rejected privatization and political pluralism in communist states, and praised Soviet solutions to social and nationality problems. And it should be remembered that the Warsaw Pact was renewed and extended for twenty years on April 26, 1985; it was abolished following the complete collapse of communism in eastern Europe on February 25, 1991. The river of time does carry away the works of human beings.

  At the foundation of Gorbachev's reforming lay the need to escape the economic cul-de-sac, which had become increasingly and unmistakably apparent by the end of the Brezhnev regime. Although some specialists claim that the Soviet state and society had already lost their forward motion with the fall of Khrushchev or shortly after, the long years of Brezhnev's rule became incontro-vertibly a time of stagnation and corruption. Economic indicators generally pointed downward, although thus far only the rate of increase of productivity and product rather than productivity and product themselves declined. In spite of great expenditures and extensive efforts, the condition of Soviet agriculture remained dismal. In industry, as before, quality lagged behind quantity. Even more important, the entire industrial establishment, a direct inheritance from the initial five-year plans, failed to respond competitively to the new age of computers and electronics. Indeed, falling behind in science and technology became one of the main Soviet worries. Military needs continued to devour huge chunks of the gross national product - percentagewise more than twice that devoured in the United States. Stagnation and economic crisis found their natural counterpoints in pessimism and low morale, which pervaded the country.

  The first two or three years of the Gorbachev regime, inaugurated on March 11, 1985, displayed a fairly "traditional" cast. The new Party secretary had to concentrate on strengthening his position, and, indeed, over a period of time he effected a major turnover of ruling and high administrative personnel. Thus on July 1, 1985, Shevardnadze became a member of the Politburo, and on the following day he was appointed foreign minister, replacing Andrei Gromyko, who was moved to a more ceremonial high office. Other new men entered the Politburo, while Victor Grishin, Gorbachev's original rival for the position of Party secretary, retired.

  Perestroika, Gorbachev's proposed rebuilding of the Soviet country and system, was loud in promise but, everything considered, initially quite similar to the

  proposals and exhortations of earlier Soviet reformers. The draft plan, as presented by Gorbachev in October 1985, called for
doubling the national income in fifteen years, with special emphasis on the modernization of equipment and an increase in labor productivity. It was all-important to overcome stagnation, to get the Soviet Union moving. But although the leader spoke of a "radical transformation of all spheres of life" and although such concepts as profits and profitability, decentralization, initiative, and even market economy and private enterprise increasingly entered national discourse, in practice the effort was limited mainly to an attempt at a speed-up, in particular by eliminating such evils as absenteeism and drunkenness - witness the major anti-alcohol campaign mounted in May 1985 and in subsequent months and years.