by Ian Grey
On January 24, 1924, Pravda in the first issue to appear since Lenin’s death published an article by Bukharin called “The Orphaned Ones.” Both title and content were wholly Russian in spirit, for on the death of the tsar, especially if there was doubt about the succession, the cry of the people was always that, forsaken by their “little father,” they were like orphans.
Bukharin’s article was a deeply emotional eulogy. “Comrade Lenin was first of all a leader . . . a leader such as history presents to humanity once in hundreds of years. . . . He was the greatest organiser of the masses. . . . It would hardly be possible in all history to find another leader so loved by his comrades-in-arms. All of them felt a special feeling for Lenin. Their feeling for him was precisely one of love.”
Trotsky was in the Caucasus and did not attend the funeral. He sent a short article by telegram, which was published in Pravda. It expressed the same fervent idolatry. “The Party is orphaned,” it read. “The working class is orphaned. Just this is the feeling aroused by the news of the death of our teacher and leader.”
A proclamation from the Central Committee intoned elevated sentiments about the leader of world communism, the love and pride of the international proletariat. “But,” it concluded with strong religious undertones, “his physical death is not the death of his cause. In the soul of every member of our party, there is a small part of Lenin. Our whole communist family is a collective embodiment of Lenin.”
The most striking and for the mass of Russians the most inspiring valediction came in the speech delivered by Stalin to the Second All-Union Congress of Soviets on January 26, 1924, and published in Pravda four days later. It took the form of an oath of loyalty and service to the party of Lenin and, although communist in terminology, it was Orthodox in spirit, evoking the repetitions and rhythms of the liturgy. Instinctively, he reverted to the forms of the Orthodox Church when he needed to express his deepest faith. Although it was an exhortation to the hundreds of delegates assembled at the Congress and to the people as a whole, it was also for him, like a coronation oath, a statement of personal dedication. To the Jewish party leaders for whom the Orthodox liturgy was alien, his speech sounded theatrical and false. But to all other members, notwithstanding their commitment to the atheism of Marxist dogma, and to the masses outside the party, the poetry and music of the Orthodox service had been part of their lives and unforgettable, so they responded to his oration.
Comrades! We Communists are people of a special kind. We have been cut from special material. We are the ones who form the army of the great proletarian strategist, the army of Comrade Lenin. There is nothing higher than the honour of belonging to this army. There is nothing higher than the title of membership of the party of which Comrade Lenin was the founder and leader. Not to everyone is given the honour of being a member of such a party. Not to everyone is it given to endure the adversities and tempests involved in membership of such a party. Sons of the working class, sons of deprivation and struggle, sons of incredible hardships and heroic endeavours - these above all others must be the members of such a party. . . .
Going from us, Comrade Lenin bequeathed to us the duty of holding high and keeping pure the great title of member of the party. We swear to thee, Comrade Lenin, that we will with honour fulfil thy command! . . .
Going from us Comrade Lenin bequeathed to us the duty of maintaining the unity of our party as the apple of our eye. We swear to thee, Comrade Lenin, that we will with honour fulfil thy command! . . . Going from us Comrade Lenin bequeathed to us the duty of preserving and strengthening the dictatorship of the proletariat. We swear to thee, Comrade Lenin, that we will not spare our strength in order to fulfil with honour thy command!
He solemnly intoned further oaths, using the same formula, impressing on his audience and on the people as a whole these undertakings of sacred duty.
Close associates who knew about Lenin’s hostility toward Stalin during the last months of his life may have questioned the sincerity of this valediction. But he was wholly sincere in his dedication to the party and to Lenin’s heritage. For Lenin, the interpreter of Marx, the leader who had created the party and had seized power, he had deep respect. But Lenin, at times an inept politician who could be influenced by Georgian nationalists, exasperated him.
Stalin must have felt surprised and hurt by Lenin’s behavior during the last months. As yet, he knew nothing of the testament which was still held secret, but he had been made aware of Lenin’s personal hostility. He had served Lenin and the Bolshevik cause loyally for twenty years; he had worked closely with him as a member of the Central Committee for ten years. On occasion, he had expressed disagreement, and during the Civil War when they had been under unbearable pressures, he had shown bad temper, as had Trotsky and others. Lenin had uttered no recriminations. Their relationship had always been based on trust and devotion to the cause, and he had never conspired to displace him or to undermine his authority. The reward for this loyalty was a vicious campaign to destroy his position in the party. Stalin can only have seen it as a terrible betrayal. Certainly, he did not respond then or later with hostility or resentment. In fact, his attitude toward Lenin was accurately expressed in his lecture to the Kremlin Military Academy on January 28, 1924. Although carefully contrived to show him as the natural successor, this speech had laid stress on the qualities of the great leader, “the mountain eagle.” The Lenin who had turned on him had been an ill and dying man. Nevertheless, Stalin had a tenacious memory, and this betrayal by his old leader probably contributed to the cancerous growth of suspicion and mistrust of others, which was to contort his outlook in the years to come.
The cult rapidly grew more pervasive and powerful in the months after Lenin’s death. By 1929, a granite mausoleum containing his figure under glass had been completed on the Red Square and had become a place of pilgrimage, the religious center of Soviet Russia. Portraits, busts, and statues were inescapable in every part of the country. Schools, halls of rest and culture, libraries, and other establishments all had their “Lenin corner.” In primitive peasant huts far from the cities, a print or newspaper portrait of Lenin might be seen in place of or even alongside the traditional icon. His writings as well as poems, hymns of praise, and worshipful studies poured from the printing presses. Lenin was the new deity; his every word was sacrosanct; his name was the compelling symbol of the unity of Soviet Russia.
Among the party leaders, the Westernized Bolsheviks, including Trotsky, had written in terms of hero worship of the dead leader. They felt the same dedication to Lenin’s party as the simple rank-and-file members. But in supporting the cult, they had been moved, too, by practical considerations. The popular worship of Lenin would strengthen the party.
Stalin has often been held responsible for launching and promoting the cult, but, it developed as a spontaneous expression of popular feeling. It was a feeling which he understood and shared. The Orthodox teachings of childhood and the Tiflis Seminary had taken deep ineradicable root. He was not religious in any conventional sense, but he was not truly an atheist. He had referred to the “god of history” and believed in destiny or fate. There was, in fact, a strong religious element in his Bolshevism and in his intense feeling for Russia.
The Central Committee usually met every second month. The Politburo - and this meant the troika of Zinoviev, Kamenev, and Stalin - continued to wield power, as during Lenin’s illness. No one as yet made any open move to assume the leadership. It would have appeared arrant presumption for any individual to step into the shoes of the great Lenin. In any case, collective rule had always been held up as the party’s ideal. Tensions were, however, mounting among the leaders. Zinoviev took for granted that, as Lenin’s lieutenant for many years and as head of the Comintern, he was the logical successor. He was a big man, extremely able, and a brilliant orator, but fat and soft in physique and character, and given to bluster. Kamenev, bearded, handsome, and dignified, was also capable, and, except when carried away by anger, milder i
n temperament than Zinoviev, whom he supported closely. Rykov, the old Bolshevik who had followed Lenin as chairman of the Council of Kommissars, was a likable man, respected throughout the party, but he lacked a forceful personality, and no one thought of him as a potential leader. Zinoviev, with Kamenev as his shadow, seemed the most probable successor.
Trotsky was the outsider. It was held against him that he was not an old Bolshevik but a recent member of the party. This would have mattered far less if he had not been so disliked and feared personally by all, with only a few exceptions, who had had direct contact with him. His great ability was recognized, as was also the danger that he would spread discord and strife throughout the party by his high-handed methods. Discussing the precedents of the French Revolution - a favorite preoccupation of Russian revolutionaries - they saw Trotsky as a possible Bonaparte who in his personal passion for power would destroy the revolution. Fear of Trotsky had brought Zinoviev, Kamenev, and Stalin together, and now it kept them from breaking apart.
Stalin did not appear to be a contender. Unobtrusive, quiet, modest, he was plainly the party worker who attended to the essential tasks of administration and organization. But he was always accessible to members and officials, listening patiently to their problems and complaints. Boris Bazhanov, a former official on the staff of the Central Committee who claimed to have been Stalin’s personal secretary, described him standing in a corner, puffing his pipe, listening for an hour or more while an agitated provincial secretary or ordinary party member poured out his troubles. His patience was unlimited, and although he rarely committed himself, he earned the gratitude of many members this way. He was always reticent, a man of few words who kept his own counsel. Bazhanov wrote that “he did not confide his innermost thoughts to anybody. Only very rarely did he share his ideas and impressions with his closest associates. He possessed in a high degree the gift for silence and in this respect he was unique in a country where everybody talked far too much.”
In the Civil War, he had borne heavy responsibilities and had faced dangers in a way that had brought him credit throughout the party. He had dispensed summary justice when necessary and had shown that he could be ruthless, but he had not shown the brutality for which Voroshilov, Budënny, and others were notorious. In his speeches, he was moderate and reasonable. He handled criticisms with apparent good humor, and even when attacking the opposition, he was less savage than Lenin or Zinoviev. In Politburo meetings, he sought to be agreeable. Writing of the first Politburo meeting that he attended and a time when the struggle among the three leaders and Trotsky was tense, Bazhanov noted that “Trotsky was the first to arrive for the session. The others were late, they were still plotting. . . . Next entered Zinoviev. He passed by Trotsky and both behaved as if they had not noticed one another. When Kamenev entered he greeted Trotsky with a slight nod. At last, Stalin came in. He approached the table at which Trotsky was seated, greeted him in a most friendly manner and vigorously shook hands with him across the table.” It was at this time that, although in opposition to him, Trotsky described Stalin to his close friend and translator, Max Eastman, as “a brave and sincere revolutionary.”
In what is known of Stalin’s life up to this time, there is, in fact, nothing that presaged the inhuman dictator he was to become. Future events were to cast long shadows, and historians have tended to attach a general frightfulness to his every action, but his conduct as a dedicated revolutionary was of a kind with that of Trotsky and Lenin. The change may be dated from the time of Lenin’s illness when it seems probable he first began to see himself as the successor. Certainly before 1921, he showed no pretension to the leadership and was content to serve. He was proud, sensitive, but not personally ambitious. After the removal of Lenin he, like many others, must have wondered about the future of the party. Of the most prominent members, Trotsky, toward whom he felt strong antipathy, would endanger unity and the others were not remotely of his caliber. Thus it would seem that during 1922 or 1923, Stalin began to consider seriously that in the interests of the party and communist Russia he would have to take over the leadership, and once having reached this decision, he pursued his goal quietly and implacably.
The struggle for power was waged under cover, taking the form of ideological disputes in which each participant sought to show he was more true to Lenin’s teachings than the others. For the troika, the removal of Trotsky was the first priority. A new journal, Bolshevik, was launched with the avowed purpose of combating “Trotskyism.” Stalin gave a series of lectures at the Communist University in Moscow, named in honor of Sverdlov. The lectures, titled “Foundations of Leninism” and providing the first canon of Stalinism, emphasized the importance of party unity and discipline, the party’s role as leader of the masses, and the need to strengthen the union of peasants and workers. They were, in fact, the principles laid down in his “oath” speech.
From February to May 1924, the “Lenin enrollment” was carried out with much publicity. One of the resolutions of the Thirteenth Party Conference had been to mount a membership drive among “workers from the bench.” The Central Committee, meeting a few days after the funeral, endorsed this decision and apparently agreed, although it was not mentioned in the conference resolution, that it should be accompanied by a purge of oppositionists. At the same time, the vast party machine which Stalin had painstakingly overhauled and expanded was effective in enlisting suitable new members.
The total membership, reduced by the beginning of 1924 to 350,000 with 120,000 candidates, was increased by more than 200,000 members, mostly young and ready to obey instructions from their party secretaries. Lenin had often expressed concern about the smallness of the proletarian element in the party, and the new enrollment was proclaimed as a great advance for Leninism because the new members were mainly proletarian.
Stalin’s majority support in the Central Committee and the Central Control Commission and his control over the party apparatus made his position seem unchallengeable. But days before the Thirteenth Party Congress was to open, something happened which suddenly threatened his career. Krupskaya sent to Kamenev the notes which Lenin had dictated between December 23, 1922, and January 23, 1923, with a covering letter explaining that she had suppressed the two notes, known as the “Testament,” because Lenin had expressed the “definite wish” that these notes should be submitted to the next Party Congress after his death. In fact, Lenin had dictated the notes specifically for presentation to the Eleventh Party Congress, held in March–April 1923. Her reasons for holding them secret for so long were not stated, but in bringing them forward at this time, she was clearly seeking to damage Stalin politically.
On the day after receiving the package from Krupskaya, Kamenev circulated the notes to a group of six senior Bolsheviks, including Zinoviev and Stalin, who called themselves the Central Committee Plenum Commission. It decided to “submit them [the notes] to the nearest Party Congress for its information.” The action taken fell far short of this decision. The notes were read out to a group of some forty delegates, who met on May 22, 1924, on the eve of the Congress. Zinoviev and Kamenev were both concerned to keep Stalin in office. He was their indispensable ally against Trotsky and the oppositionists. Zinoviev declared that, while they had all sworn to carry out Lenin’s wishes to the letter, they knew that his fears about their general secretary had been baseless.
Trotsky recalled that during the discussion, Stalin referred to the Lenin who had dictated these notes as “a sick man surrounded by womenfolk,” a barbed reference to Krupskaya, but he did not take an active part. Trotsky himself did not contribute to the discussion. Finally, by thirty votes to ten, it was decided that the notes should not be published, but that their contents should be conveyed to selected delegates to whom it should be explained that Lenin had been seriously ill at the time and misinformed by those around him.
For Stalin, it must have come as a bitter shock to learn for the first time the contents of the “Testament” and to have this direct conf
irmation of Lenin’s personal hostility. He had then suffered the humiliation of being arraigned by the old leader and of being present at the discussions on the action to be taken. His position had been threatened, for the full Congress could hardly ignore the last injunctions of the leader whom all were now so ardently worshiping. It must have come as a relief for him when it was decided that the Congress would be bypassed and the notes would not be published. Nevertheless, when the newly elected Central Committee met, he offered his resignation. He was probably confident that those he had carefully selected for election would not accept it. In the event, the committee, including Trotsky, voted unanimously not to accept his resignation.
Although Lenin’s attempts to undermine his position had failed, Stalin was watchful and cautious during the Thirteenth Party Congress in May 1924. He had made careful preparations, especially in excluding oppositionists from delegations, but Trotsky and others, who had signed the Declaration of the Forty-six, were among the delegates. They might try to disrupt the Congress. Also, Zinoviev and Kamenev were merely temporary allies, who would turn on him when they saw the chance. The Congress, at which he was received with “applause turning into an ovation,” proved a personal triumph.