building of the Communist state of the future, does seem to me to be
an evil in that it is done emotionally and fanatically, with an appeal
to hate and militant ardour rather than to constructive reason. It
binds the free intellect and destroys initiative. An industrial state
needs not only obedient and patient workers and artists, it needs also
men and women with initiative in scientific research. It is idle to
provide channels for scientific research later if it is to be choked
at the source. That source is an enquiring and free intellect
unhampered by iron dogma. Beneficial to artistic and emotional
development therefore, the teaching of Communism as a faith may well
be most pernicious to the scientific and intellectual side of
education, and will lead direct to the pragmatist view of knowledge
and scientific research which the Church and the capitalist already
find it so convenient to adopt.
But to come to the chief and most practical question, the relation of
education to industry. Sooner or later education in Russia must become
subordinate to the needs of industrial development. That the
Bolsheviks already realize this is proved by the articles of
Lunacharsky which recently appeared in _Le Phare_ (Geneva). It was the
spectre of industry that haunted me throughout the consideration of
education as in the consideration of art, and what I have said above
of its dangers to the latter seems to me also to apply here.
Montessori schools belong, in my view, to that stage in industrial
development when education is directed as much towards leisure
occupations as towards preparation for professional life. Possibly the
fine flower of useless scientific enquiry belongs to this stage also.
Nobody in Russia is likely to have much leisure for a good many years
to come, if the Bolshevik programme of industrial development is
efficiently carried out. And there seemed to me to be something
pathetic and almost cruel in this varied and agreeable education of
the child, when one reflected on the long hours of grinding toil to
which he was soon to be subject in workshop or factory. For I repeat
that I do not believe industrial work in the early days of industry
can be made tolerable to the worker. Once again I experienced the
dread of seeing the ideals of the Russian revolutionaries go down
before the logic of necessity. They are beginning to pride themselves
on being hard, practical men, and it seems quite reasonable to fear
that they should come to regard this full and humane development of
the child as a mere luxury and ultimately neglect it. Worse still, the
few of these schools which already exist may perhaps become exclusive
to the Communists and their children, or that company of Samurai which
is to leaven and govern the mass of the people. If so, they will soon
come to resemble our public schools, in that they will prepare, in an
artificial play atmosphere, men who will pass straight to the position
of leaders, while the portion of the proletariat who serve under them
will be reading and writing, just so much technical training as is
necessary, and Communist doctrine.
This is a nightmare hypothesis, but the difficulties of the practical
problem seem to warrant its entertainment. The number of people in
Russia who can even read and write is extremely small, the need to
get them employed industrially as rapidly as possible is very great,
hence the system of education which develops out of this situation
cannot be very ambitious or enlightened. Further it will have to
continue over a sufficiently long period of time to allow of the risk
of its becoming stable and traditional. In adult education already the
pupil comes for a short period, learns Communism, reading and
writing--there is hardly time to give him much more--and returns to
leaven the army or his native village. In achieving this the
Bolsheviks are already doing a very important and valuable work, but
they cannot hope for a long while to become the model of public
instruction which they have hitherto been represented to be. And the
conditions of their becoming so ultimately are adherence to their
ideals through a very long period of stress, and a lessening of
fanaticism in their Communist teaching, conditions which, unhappily,
seem to be mutually incompatible.
The whole of the argument set out in this chapter may be summed up in
the statement of one fact which the mere idealist is prone to
overlook, namely that Russia is a country at a stage in economic
development not much more advanced than America in the pioneer days.
The old civilization was aristocratic and exotic; it could not survive
in the modern world. It is true that it produced great men, but its
foundations were rotten. The new civilization may, for the moment, be
less productive of individual works of genius, but it has a new
solidity and gives promise of a new unity. It may be that I have taken
too hopeful a view and that the future evolution of Russia will have
as little connection with the life and tradition of its present
population as modern America with the life of the Red Indian tribes.
The fact that there exists in Russia a population at a far higher
stage of culture, which will be industrially educated, not
exterminated, militates against this hypothesis, but the need for
education may make progress slower than it was in the United States.
One would not have looked for the millennium of Communism, nor even
for valuable art and educational experiment in the America of early
railroading and farming days. Nor must one look for such things from
Russia yet. It may be that during the next hundred years there,
economic evolution will obscure Communist ideals, until finally, in a
country that has reached the stage of present-day America, the battle
will be fought out again to a victorious and stable issue. Unless,
indeed, the Marxian scripture prove to be not infallible, and faith
and heroic devotion show themselves capable of triumphing over
economic necessity.
V
COMMUNISM AND THE SOVIET CONSTITUTION
Before I went to Russia I imagined that I was going to see an
interesting experiment in a new form of representative government. I
did see an interesting experiment, but not in representative
government. Every one who is interested in Bolshevism knows the series
of elections, from the village meeting to the All-Russian Soviet, by
which the people's commissaries are supposed to derive their power. We
were told that, by the recall, the occupational constituencies, and so
on, a new and far more perfect machinery had been devised for
ascertaining and registering the popular will. One of the things we
hoped to study was the question whether the Soviet system is really
superior to Parliamentarism in this respect.
We were not able to make any such study, because the Soviet system is
moribund.[4] No conceivable system of free election would give
majorities to the Communists, either in town or country. Various
methods are therefore adopted for giving the victory to Government
candidates. In the first place, the voting is by show of hands, so
that all who vote against the Government are marked men. In the second
place, no candidate who is not a Communist can have any printing done,
the printing works being all in the hands of the State. In the third
place, he cannot address any meetings, because the halls all belong to
the State. The whole of the press is, of course, official; no
independent daily is permitted. In spite of all these obstacles, the
Mensheviks have succeeded in winning about 40 seats out of 1,500 on
the Moscow Soviet, by being known in certain large factories where the
electoral campaign could be conducted by word of mouth. They won, in
fact, every seat that they contested.
But although the Moscow Soviet is nominally sovereign in Moscow, it is
really only a body of electors who choose the executive committee of
forty, out of which, in turn, is chosen the Presidium, consisting of
nine men who have all the power. The Moscow Soviet, as a whole, meets
rarely; the Executive Committee is supposed to meet once a week, but
did not meet while we were in Moscow. The Presidium, on the contrary,
meets daily. Of course, it is easy for the Government to exercise
pressure over the election of the executive committee, and again over
the election of the Presidium. It must be remembered that effective
protest is impossible, owing to the absolutely complete suppression of
free speech and free Press. The result is that the Presidium of the
Moscow Soviet consists only of orthodox Communists.
Kamenev, the President of the Moscow Soviet, informed us that the
recall is very frequently employed; he said that in Moscow there are,
on an average, thirty recalls a month. I asked him what were the
principal reasons for the recall, and he mentioned four: drinking,
going to the front (and being, therefore, incapable of performing the
duties), change of politics on the part of the electors, and failure
to make a report to the electors once a fortnight, which all members
of the Soviet are expected to do. It is evident that the recall
affords opportunities for governmental pressure, but I had no chance
of finding out whether it is used for this purpose.
In country districts the method employed is somewhat different. It is
impossible to secure that the village Soviet shall consist of
Communists, because, as a rule, at any rate in the villages I saw,
there are no Communists. But when I asked in the villages how they
were represented on the Volost (the next larger area) or the Gubernia,
I was met always with the reply that they were not represented at all.
I could not verify this, and it is probably an overstatement, but all
concurred in the assertion that if they elected a non-Communist
representative he could not obtain a pass on the railway and,
therefore, could not attend the Volost or Gubernia Soviet. I saw a
meeting of the Gubernia Soviet of Saratov. The representation is so
arranged that the town workers have an enormous preponderance over the
surrounding peasants; but even allowing for this, the proportion of
peasants seemed astonishingly small for the centre of a very important
agricultural area.
The All-Russian Soviet, which is constitutionally the supreme body, to
which the People's Commissaries are responsible, meets seldom, and has
become increasingly formal. Its sole function at present, so far as I
could discover, is to ratify, without discussion, previous decisions
of the Communist Party on matters (especially concerning foreign
policy) upon which the constitution requires its decision.
All real power is in the hands of the Communist Party, who number
about 600,000 in a population of about 120 millions. I never came
across a Communist by chance: the people whom I met in the streets or
in the villages, when I could get into conversation with them, almost
invariably said they were of no party. The only other answer I ever
had was from some of the peasants, who openly stated that they were
Tsarists. It must be said that the peasants' reasons for disliking the
Bolsheviks are very inadequate. It is said--and all I saw confirmed
the assertion--that the peasants are better off than they ever were
before. I saw no one--man, woman, or child--who looked underfed in the
villages. The big landowners are dispossessed, and the peasants have
profited. But the towns and the army still need nourishing, and the
Government has nothing to give the peasants in return for food except
paper, which the peasants resent having to take. It is a singular fact
that Tsarist roubles are worth ten times as much as Soviet roubles,
and are much commoner in the country. Although they are illegal,
pocket-books full of them are openly displayed in the market places. I
do not think it should be inferred that the peasants expect a Tsarist
restoration: they are merely actuated by custom and dislike of
novelty. They have never heard of the blockade; consequently they
cannot understand why the Government is unable to give them the
clothes and agricultural implements that they need. Having got their
land, and being ignorant of affairs outside their own neighbourhood,
they wish their own village to be independent, and would resent the
demands of any Government whatever.
Within the Communist Party there are, of course, as always in a
bureaucracy, different factions, though hitherto the external pressure
has prevented disunion. It seemed to me that the personnel of the
bureaucracy could be divided into three classes. There are first the
old revolutionists, tested by years of persecution. These men have
most of the highest posts. Prison and exile have made them tough and
fanatical and rather out of touch with their own country. They are
honest men, with a profound belief that Communism will regenerate the
world. They think themselves utterly free from sentiment, but, in
fact, they are sentimental about Communism and about the régime that
they are creating; they cannot face the fact that what they are
creating is not complete Communism, and that Communism is anathema to
the peasant, who wants his own land and nothing else. They are
pitiless in punishing corruption or drunkenness when they find either
among officials; but they have built up a system in which the
temptations to petty corruption are tremendous, and their own
materialistic theory should persuade them that under such a system
corruption must be rampant.
The second class in the bureaucracy, among whom are to be found most
of the men occupying political posts just below the top, consists of
_arrivistes_, who are enthusiastic Bolsheviks because of the material
success of Bolshevism. With them must be reckoned the army of
policemen, spies, and secret agents, largely inherited from the
Tsarist times, who make their profit out of the fact that no one can
live except by breaking the law. This aspect of Bolshevism is
exemplified by the Extraordinary Commission, a body practically
independent of the Government, possessing its own regiments, who are
better fed than the Red Army. This body has the power of imprisoning
any man or woman without trial on such charges as speculation or
counter-revolutionary activity. It has shot thousands without proper
trial, and though now it has nominally lost the power of inflicting
the death penalty, it is by no means certain that it has altogether
lost it in fact. It has spies everywhere, and ordinary mortals live in
terror of it.
The third class in the bureaucracy consists of men who are not ardent
Communists, who have rallied to the Government since it has proved
itself stable, and who work for it either out of patriotism or because
they enjoy the opportunity of developing their ideas freely without
the obstacle of traditional institutions. Among this class are to be
found men of the type of the successful business man, men with the
same sort of ability as is found in the American self-made Trust
magnate, but working for success and power, not for money. There is no
doubt that the Bolsheviks are successfully solving the problem of
enlisting this kind of ability in the public service, without
permitting it to amass wealth as it does in capitalist communities.
This is perhaps their greatest success so far, outside the domain of
war. It makes it possible to suppose that, if Russia is allowed to
have peace, an amazing industrial development may take place, making
Russia a rival of the United States. The Bolsheviks are industrialists
in all their aims; they love everything in modern industry except the
excessive rewards of the capitalists. And the harsh discipline to
which they are subjecting the workers is calculated, if anything can,
to give them the habits of industry and honesty which have hitherto
been lacking, and the lack of which alone prevents Russia from being
one of the foremost industrial countries.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] In _Theses_ (p. 6 of French edition) it is said: "The ancient
classic subdivision of the Labour movement into three forms (parties,
trade unions, and co-operatives) has served its time. The proletarian
revolution has raised up in Russia the essential form of proletarian
dictatorship, the _soviets_. But the work in the Soviets, as in the
industrial trade unions which have become revolutionary, must be
invariably and systematically directed by the party of the
proletariat, i.e. the Communist Party. As the organized advanced guard
of the working class, the Communist Party answers equally to the
economic, political and spiritual needs of the entire working class.
It must be the soul of the trade unions, the soviets, and all other
proletarian organizations.
"The appearance of the Soviets, the principal historical form of the
dictatorship of the proletariat, in no way diminishes the directing
rôle of the party in the proletarian revolution. When the German
Communists of the 'Left' ... declare that 'the party itself must also
adapt itself more and more to the Soviet idea and proletarianize
itself,' we see there only an insinuating expression of the idea that
the Communist Party must dissolve itself into the Soviets, so that the
Soviets can replace it.
"This idea is profoundly erroneous and reactionary.
"The history of the Russian Revolution shows us, at a certain moment,
the Soviets going against the proletarian party and helping the agents
of the bourgeoisie....
"In order that the Soviets may fulfil their historic mission, the
existence of a Communist Party, strong enough not to 'adapt' itself to
the Soviets but to exercise on them a decisive influence, to force
them _not to adapt themselves_ to the bourgeoisie and official social
democracy, ... is on the contrary necessary."
VI
THE FAILURE OF RUSSIAN INDUSTRY
At first sight it is surprising that Russian industry should have
collapsed as badly as it has done, and still more surprising that the
efforts of the Communists have not been more successful in reviving
it. As I believe that the continued efficiency of industry is the main
condition for success in the transition to a Communist State, I shall
endeavour to analyse the causes of the collapse, with a view to the
discovery of ways by which it can be avoided elsewhere.
Of the fact of the collapse there can be no doubt. The Ninth Congress
of the Communist Party (March-April, 1920) speaks of "the incredible
catastrophes of public economy," and in connection with transport,
which is one of the vital elements of the problem, it acknowledges
"the terrible collapse of the transport and the railway system," and
urges the introduction of "measures which cannot be delayed and which
are to obviate the complete paralysis of the railway system and,
together with this, the ruin of the Soviet Republic." Almost all those
who have visited Russia would confirm this view of the gravity of the
situation. In the factories, in great works like those of Putilov and
Sornovo, very little except war work is being done; machinery stands
idle and plant is becoming unusable. One sees hardly any new
manufactured articles in Russia, beyond a certain very inadequate
quantity of clothes and boots--always excepting what is needed for the
army. And the difficulty of obtaining food is conclusive evidence of
the absence of goods such as are needed by the peasants.
How has this state of affairs arisen? And why does it continue?
A great deal of disorganization occurred before the first revolution
and under Kerensky. Russian industry was partly dependent on Poland;
the war was conducted by methods of reckless extravagance, especially
as regards rolling-stock; under Kerensky there was a tendency to
universal holiday, under the impression that freedom had removed the
necessity for work. But when all this is admitted to the full, it
remains true that the state of industry under the Bolsheviks is much
worse than even under Kerensky.
The first and most obvious reason for this is that Russia was quite
unusually dependent upon foreign assistance. Not only did the
machinery in the factories and the locomotives on the railways come
from abroad, but the organizing and technical brains in industry were
mainly foreign. When the Entente became hostile to Russia, the
foreigners in Russian industry either left the country or assisted
counter-revolution. Even those who were in fact loyal naturally became
suspect, and could not well be employed in responsible posts, any more
than Germans could in England during the war. The native Russians who
had technical or business skill were little better; they almost all
practised sabotage in the first period of the Bolshevik régime. One
hears amusing stories of common sailors frantically struggling with
complicated accounts, because no competent accountant would work for
the Bolsheviks.
But those days passed. When the Government was seen to be stable, a
great many of those who had formerly sabotaged it became willing to
accept posts under it, and are now in fact so employed, often at quite
exceptional salaries. Their importance is thoroughly realized. One
resolution at the above-mentioned Congress says (I quote verbally the
unedited document which was given to us in Moscow):
Being of opinion that without a scientific organization of
industry, even the widest application of compulsory labour
service, as the great labour heroism of the working class,
will not only fail to secure the establishment of a powerful
socialist production, but will also fail to assist the country
to free itself from the clutches of poverty--the Congress
considers it imperative to register all able specialists of
the various departments of public economy and widely to
utilize them for the purpose of industrial organization.
The Congress considers the elucidation for the wide masses of
the workers of the tremendous character of the economic
problems of the country to be one of the chief problems of
industrial and general political agitation and propaganda; and
of equal importance to this, technical education, and
administrative and scientific technical experience. The
Congress makes it obligatory on all the members of the party
mercilessly to fight that particular obnoxious form, the
ignorant conceit which deems the working class capable of
solving all problems without the assistance _in the most
responsible cases_ of specialists of the bourgeois school, the
management. Demagogic elements who speculate on this kind of
prejudice in the more backward section of our working classes,
can have no place in the ranks of the party of Scientific
Socialism.
But Russia alone is unable to supply the amount of skill required, and
is very deficient in technical instructors, as well as in skilled
workmen. One was told, over and over again, that the first step in
improvement would be the obtaining of spare parts for locomotives. It
seems strange that these could not be manufactured in Russia. To some
extent they can be, and we were shown locomotives which had been
repaired on Communist Saturdays. But in the main the machinery for
making spare parts is lacking and the skill required for its
manufacture does not exist. Thus dependence on the outside world
persists, and the blockade continues to do its deadly work of
spreading hunger, demoralization and despair.
The food question is intimately bound up with the question of
industry. There is a vicious circle, for not only does the absence of
manufactured goods cause a food shortage in the towns, but the food
shortage, in turn, diminishes the strength of the workers and makes
them less able to produce goods. I cannot but think that there has
been some mismanagement as regards the food question. For example, in
Petrograd many workers have allotments and often work in them for
eight hours after an eight hours' day in their regular employment. But
the food produced in the allotments is taken for general consumption,
not left to each individual producer. This is in accordance with
Communist theory, but of course greatly diminishes the incentive to
work, and increases the red tape and administrative machinery.
Lack of fuel has been another very grave source of trouble. Before the
war coal came mostly from Poland and the Donetz Basin. Poland is lost
to Russia, and the Donetz Basin was in the hands of Denikin, who so
destroyed the mines before retreating that they are still not in
working order. The result is a practically complete absence of coal.
Oil, which is equally important in Russia, was also lacking until the
recent recovery of Baku. All that I saw on the Volga made me believe
that real efficiency has been shown in reorganizing the transport of
oil, and doubtless this will do something to revive industry. But the
oil used to be worked very largely by Englishmen, and English
machinery is much needed for refining it. In the meantime, Russia has
had to depend upon wood, which involves immense labour. Most of the
houses are not warmed in winter, so that people live in a temperature
below freezing-point. Another consequence of lack of fuel was the
bursting of water-pipes, so that people in Petrograd, for the most
part, have to go down to the Neva to fetch their water--a considerable
addition to the labour of an already overworked day.
I find it difficult to believe that, if greater efficiency had existed
in the Government, the food and fuel difficulties could not have been
considerably alleviated. In spite of the needs of the army, there are
still many horses in Russia; I saw troops of thousands of horses on
the Volga, which apparently belonged to Kalmuk tribes. By the help of
carts and sledges, it ought to be possible, without more labour than
is warranted by the importance of the problem, to bring food and
timber into Moscow and Petrograd. It must be remembered that both
cities are surrounded by forests, and Moscow at least is surrounded by
good agricultural land. The Government has devoted all its best
energies hitherto to the two tasks of war and propaganda, while
industry and the food problem have been left to a lesser degree of
energy and intelligence. It is no doubt probable that, if peace is
secured, the economic problems will receive more attention than
hitherto. But the Russian character seems less adapted to steady work
of an unexciting nature than to heroic efforts on great occasions; it
has immense passive endurance, but not much active tenacity. Whether,
with the menace of foreign invasion removed, enough day-by-day
detailed energy would exist for the reorganization of industry, is a
doubtful question, as to which only time can decide.
This leads to the conclusion--which I think is adopted by most of the
leading men in Russia--that it will be very difficult indeed to save
the revolution without outside economic assistance. Outside assistance
from capitalist countries is dangerous to the principles of Communism,
as well as precarious from the likelihood of fresh causes of quarrel.
But the need of help is urgent, and if the policy of promoting
revolution elsewhere were to succeed, it would probably render the
nations concerned temporarily incapable of supplying Russian needs.
It is, therefore, necessary for Russia to accept the risks and
uncertainties involved in attempting to make peace with the Entente
and to trade with America. By continuing war, Russia can do infinite
damage to us, especially in Asia, but cannot hope, for many years, to
achieve any degree of internal prosperity. The situation, therefore,
is one in which, even from the narrowest point of view, peace is to
the interest of both parties.
It is difficult for an outsider with only superficial knowledge to
judge of the efforts which have been made to reorganize industry
without outside help. These efforts have chiefly taken the form of
industrial conscription. Workers in towns seek to escape to the
country, in order to have enough to eat; but this is illegal and
severely punished. The same Communist Report from which I have already
quoted speaks on this subject as follows:
_Labour Desertion._--Owing to the fact that a considerable
part of the workers either in search of better food conditions
or often for the purposes of speculation, voluntarily leave
their places of employment or change from place to place,
which inevitably harms production and deteriorates the general
position of the working class, the Congress considers one of
the most urgent problems of Soviet Government and of the Trade
Union organization to be established as the firm, systematic
and insistent struggle with labour desertion, The way to fight
this is to publish a list of desertion fines, the creation of
a labour Detachment of Deserters under fine, and, finally,
internment in concentration camps.
It is hoped to extend the system to the peasantry:
The defeat of the White Armies and the problems of peaceful
construction in connection with the incredible catastrophes of
public economy demand an extraordinary effort of all the
powers of the proletariat and the drafting into the process of
public labour of the wide masses of the peasantry.
On the vital subject of transport, in a passage of which I have
already quoted a fragment, the Communist Party declares:
For the most immediate future transport remains the centre of
the attention and the efforts of the Soviet Government. The
improvement of transport is the indispensable basis upon which
even the most moderate success in all other spheres of
production and first of all in the provision question can be
gained.
The chief difficulty with regard to the improvement of
transport is the weakness of the Transport Trade Union, which
is due in the first case to the heterogeneity of the personnel
of the railways, amongst whom there are still a number of
those who belong to the period of disorganization, and,
secondly, to the fact that the most class-conscious and best
elements of the railway proletariat were at the various fronts
of the civil war.
Considering wide Trade Union assistance to the railway workers
to be one of the principal tasks of the Party, and as the only
condition under which transport can be raised to its height,
the Congress at the same time recognizes the inflexible
necessity of employing exclusive and extraordinary measures
(martial law, and so forth). Such necessity is the result of
the terrible collapse of the transport and the railroad system
and is to introduce measures which cannot be delayed and which
are to obviate the complete paralysis of the railway system
and, together with this, the ruin of the Soviet Republic.
The general attitude to the militarization of labour is stated in the
Resolution with which this section of the Proceedings begins:
The ninth Congress approves of the decision of the Central
Committee of the Russian Communist Party on the mobilization
of the industrial proletariat, compulsory labour service,
militarization of production and the application of military
detachments to economic needs.
In connection with the above, the Congress decrees that the
Party organization should in every way assist the Trade Unions
and the Labour Sections in registering all skilled workers
with a view of employing them in the various branches of
production with the same consistency and strictness as was
done, and is being carried out at the present time, in
relation to the commanding staff for army needs.
Every skilled worker is to return to his particular trade
Exceptions, i.e. the retention of the skilled worker in any
other branch of Soviet service, is allowed only with the
sanction of the corresponding central and local authorities.
It is, of course, evident that in these measures the Bolsheviks have
been compelled to travel a long way from the ideals which originally
inspired the revolution. But the situation is so desperate that they
could not be blamed if their measures were successful. In a shipwreck
all hands must turn to, and it would be ridiculous to prate of
individual liberty. The most distressing feature of the situation is
that these stern laws seem to have produced so little effect. Perhaps
in the course of years Russia might become self-supporting without
help from the outside world, but the suffering meantime would be
terrible. The early hopes of the revolution would fade more and more.
Every failure of industry, every tyrannous regulation brought about by
the desperate situation, is used by the Entente as a justification of
its policy. If a man is deprived of food and drink, he will grow weak,
lose his reason, and finally die. This is not usually considered a
good reason for inflicting death by starvation. But where nations are
concerned, the weakness and struggles are regarded as morally
culpable, and are held to justify further punishment. So at least it
has been in the case of Russia. Nothing produced a doubt in our
governing minds as to the rightness of our policy except the strength
of the Red Army and the fear of revolution in Asia. Is it surprising
that professions of humanitarian feeling on the part of English people
are somewhat coldly received in Soviet Russia?
VII
DAILY LIFE IN MOSCOW
Daily life in Moscow, so far as I could discover, has neither the
horrors depicted by the Northcliffe Press nor the delights imagined by
the more ardent of our younger Socialists.
On the one hand, there is no disorder, very little crime, not much
insecurity for those who keep clear of politics. Everybody works hard;
the educated people have, by this time, mostly found their way into
Government offices or teaching or some other administrative profession
in which their education is useful. The theatres, the opera and the
ballet continue as before, and are quite admirable; some of the seats
are paid for, others are given free to members of trade unions. There
is, of course, no drunkenness, or at any rate so little that none of
us ever saw a sign of it. There is very little prostitution,
infinitely less than in any other capital. Women are safer from
molestation than anywhere else in the world. The whole impression is
one of virtuous, well-ordered activity.
On the other hand, life is very hard for all except men in good posts.
It is hard, first of all, owing to the food shortage. This is familiar
to all who have interested themselves in Russia, and it is unnecessary
to dwell upon it. What is less realized is that most people work much
longer hours than in this country. The eight-hour day was introduced
with a flourish of trumpets; then, owing to the pressure of the war,
it was extended to ten hours in certain trades. But no provision
exists against extra work at other jobs, and very many people do extra
work, because the official rates do not afford a living wage. This is
not the fault of the Government, at any rate as regards the major
part; it is due chiefly to war and blockade. When the day's work is
over, a great deal of time has to be spent in fetching food and water
and other necessaries of life. The sight of the workers going to and
fro, shabbily clad, with the inevitable bundle in one hand and tin can
in the other, through streets almost entirely empty of traffic,
produces the effect of life in some vast village, rather than in an
important capital city.
Holidays, such as are common throughout all but the very poorest class
in this country, are very difficult in Russia. A train journey
requires a permit, which is only granted on good reasons being shown;
with the present shortage of transport, this regulation is quite
unavoidable. Railway queues are a common feature in Moscow; it often
takes several days to get a permit. Then, when it has been obtained,
it may take several more days to get a seat in a train. The ordinary
trains are inconceivably crowded, far more so, though that seems
impossible, than London trains at the busiest hour. On the shorter
journeys, passengers are even known to ride on the roof and buffers,
or cling like flies to the sides of the waggons. People in Moscow
travel to the country whenever they can afford the time and get a
permit, because in the country there is enough to eat. They go to stay
with relations--most people in Moscow, in all classes, but especially
among manual workers, have relations in the country. One cannot, of
course, go to an hotel as one would in other countries. Hotels have
been taken over by the State, and the rooms in them (when they are
still used) are allocated by the police to people whose business is
recognized as important by the authorities. Casual travel is therefore
impossible even on a holiday.
Journeys have vexations in addition to the slowness and overcrowding
of the trains. Police search the travellers for evidences of
"speculation," especially for food. The police play, altogether, a
much greater part in daily life than they do in other countries--much
greater than they did, for example, in Prussia twenty-five years ago,
when there was a vigorous campaign against Socialism. Everybody breaks
the law almost daily, and no one knows which among his acquaintances
is a spy of the Extraordinary Commission. Even in the prisons, among
prisoners, there are spies, who are allowed certain privileges but not
their liberty.
Newspapers are not taken in, except by very few people, but they are
stuck up in public places, where passers-by occasionally glance at
them.[5] There is very little to read; owing to paper shortage, books
are rare, and money to buy them is still rarer. One does not see
people reading, as one does here in the Underground for example. There
is practically no social life, partly because of the food shortage,
partly because, when anybody is arrested, the police are apt to arrest
everybody whom they find in his company, or who comes to visit him.
And once arrested, a man or woman, however innocent, may remain for
months in prison without trial. While we were in Moscow, forty social
revolutionaries and Anarchists were hunger-striking to enforce their
demand to be tried and to be allowed visits. I was told that on the
eighth day of the strike the Government consented to try them, and
that few could be proved guilty of any crime; but I had no means of
verifying this.
Industrial conscription is, of course, rigidly enforced. Every man and
woman has to work, and slacking is severely punished, by prison or a
penal settlement. Strikes are illegal, though they sometimes occur. By
proclaiming itself the friend of the proletarian, the Government has
been enabled to establish an iron discipline, beyond the wildest
dreams of the most autocratic American magnate. And by the same
professions the Government has led Socialists from other countries to
abstain from reporting unpleasant features in what they have seen.
The Tolstoyans, of whom I saw the leaders, are obliged by their creed
to resist every form of conscription, though some have found ways of
compromising. The law concerning conscientious objectors to military
service is practically the same as ours, and its working depends upon
the temper of the tribunal before which a man comes. Some
conscientious objectors have been shot; on the other hand, some have
obtained absolute exemption.
Life in Moscow, as compared to life in London, is drab, monotonous,
and depressed. I am not, of course, comparing life there with that of
the rich here, but with that of the average working-class family. When
it is realized that the highest wages are about fifteen shillings a
month, this is not surprising. I do not think that life could, under
any system, be very cheerful in a country so exhausted by war as
Russia, so I am not saying this as a criticism of the Bolsheviks. But
I do think there might be less police interference, less vexatious
regulation, and more freedom for spontaneous impulses towards harmless
enjoyments.
Religion is still very strong. I went into many churches, where I saw
obviously famished priests in gorgeous vestments, and a congregation
enormously devout. Generally more than half the congregation were men,
and among the men many were soldiers. This applies to the towns as
well as to the country. In Moscow I constantly saw people in the
streets crossing themselves.
There is a theory that the Moscow working man feels himself free from
capitalist domination, and therefore bears hardships gladly. This is
no doubt true of the minority who are active Communists, but I do not
think it has any truth for the others. The average working man, to
judge by a rather hasty impression, feels himself the slave of the
Government, and has no sense whatever of having been liberated from a
tyranny.
I recognize to the full the reasons for the bad state of affairs, in
the past history of Russia and the recent policy of the Entente. But I
have thought it better to record impressions frankly, trusting the
readers to remember that the Bolsheviks have only a very limited share
of responsibility for the evils from which Russia is suffering.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] The ninth Communist Congress (March-April, 1920) says on this
subject: "In view of the fact that the first condition of the success
of the Soviet Republic in all departments, including the economic, is
chiefly systematic printed agitation, the Congress draws the attention
of the Soviet Government to the deplorable state in which our paper
and printing industries find themselves. The ever decreasing number of
newspapers fail to reach not only the peasants but even the workers,
in addition to which our poor technical means render the papers hardly
readable. The Congress strongly appeals to the Supreme Council of
Public Economy, to the corresponding Trade Unions and other interested
institutions, to apply all efforts to raise the quantity, to introduce
general system and order in the printing business, and so secure for
the worker and peasant in Russia a supply of Socialist printed
matter."
VIII
TOWN AND COUNTRY
The problem of inducing the peasants to feed the towns is one which
Russia shares with Central Europe, and from what one hears Russia has
been less unsuccessful than some other countries in dealing with this
problem. For the Soviet Government, the problem is mainly concentrated
in Moscow and Petrograd; the other towns are not very large, and are
mostly in the centre of rich agricultural districts. It is true that
in the North even the rural population normally depends upon food from
more southerly districts; but the northern population is small. It is
commonly said that the problem of feeding Moscow and Petrograd is a
transport problem, but I think this is only partially true. There is,
of course, a grave deficiency of rolling-stock, especially of
locomotives in good repair. But Moscow is surrounded by very good
land. In the course of a day's motoring in the neighbourhood, I saw
enough cows to supply milk to the whole child population of Moscow,
although what I had come to see was children's sanatoria, not farms.
All kinds of food can be bought in the market at high prices. I
travelled over a considerable extent of Russian railways, and saw a
fair number of goods trains. For all these reasons, I feel convinced
that the share of the transport problem in the food difficulties has
been exaggerated. Of course transport plays a larger part in the
shortage in Petrograd than in Moscow, because food comes mainly from
south of Moscow. In Petrograd, most of the people one sees in the
streets show obvious signs of under-feeding. In Moscow, the visible
signs are much less frequent, but there is no doubt that
under-feeding, though not actual starvation, is nearly universal.
The Government supplies rations to every one who works in the towns at
a very low fixed price. The official theory is that the Government has
a monopoly of the food and that the rations are sufficient to sustain
life. The fact is that the rations are not sufficient, and that they
are only a portion of the food supply of Moscow. Moreover, people
complain, I do not know how truly, that the rations are delivered
irregularly; some say, about every other day. Under these
circumstances, almost everybody, rich or poor, buys food in the
market, where it costs about fifty times the fixed Government price.
A pound of butter costs about a month's wages. In order to be able to
afford extra food, people adopt various expedients. Some do additional
work, at extra rates, after their official day's work is over. For,
though there is supposed to be by law an eight-hours day, extended to
ten in certain vital industries, the wage paid for it is not a living
wage, and there is nothing to prevent a man from undertaking other
work in his spare time. But the usual resource is what is called
"speculation," i.e., buying and selling. Some person formerly rich
sells clothes or furniture or jewellery in return for food; the buyer
sells again at an enhanced price, and so on through perhaps twenty
hands, until a final purchaser is found in some well-to-do peasant or
_nouveau riche_ speculator. Again, most people have relations in the
country, whom they visit from time to time, bringing back with them
great bags of flour. It is illegal for private persons to bring food
into Moscow, and the trains are searched; but, by corruption or
cunning, experienced people can elude the search. The food market is
illegal, and is raided occasionally; but as a rule it is winked at.
Thus the attempt to suppress private commerce has resulted in an
amount of unprofessional buying and selling which far exceeds what
happens in capitalist countries. It takes up a great deal of time
that might be more profitably employed; and, being illegal, it places
practically the whole population of Moscow at the mercy of the police.
Moreover, it depends largely upon the stores of goods belonging to
those who were formerly rich, and when these are expended the whole
system must collapse, unless industry has meanwhile been
re-established on a sound basis.
It is clear that the state of affairs is unsatisfactory, but, from the
Government's point of view, it is not easy to see what ought to be
done. The urban and industrial population is mainly concerned in
carrying on the work of government and supplying munitions to the
army. These are very necessary tasks, the cost of which ought to be
defrayed out of taxation. A moderate tax in kind on the peasants would
easily feed Moscow and Petrograd. But the peasants take no interest in
war or government. Russia is so vast that invasion of one part does
not touch another part; and the peasants are too ignorant to have any
national consciousness, such as one takes for granted in England or
France or Germany. The peasants will not willingly part with a portion
of their produce merely for purposes of national defence, but only for
the goods they need--clothes, agricultural implements, &c.--which the
Government, owing to the war and the blockade, is not in a position to
supply.
When the food shortage was at its worst, the Government antagonized
the peasants by forced requisitions, carried out with great harshness
by the Red Army. This method has been modified, but the peasants still
part unwillingly with their food, as is natural in view of the
uselessness of paper and the enormously higher prices offered by
private buyers.
The food problem is the main cause of popular opposition to the
Bolsheviks, yet I cannot see how any popular policy could have been
adopted. The Bolsheviks are disliked by the peasants because they take
so much food; they are disliked in the towns because they take so
little. What the peasants want is what is called free trade, i.e.,
de-control of agricultural produce. If this policy were adopted, the
towns would be faced by utter starvation, not merely by hunger and
hardship. It is an entire misconception to suppose that the peasants
cherish any hostility to the Entente. The _Daily News_ of July 13th,
in an otherwise excellent leading article, speaks of "the growing
hatred of the Russian peasant, who is neither a Communist nor a
Bolshevik, for the Allies generally and this country in particular."
The typical Russian peasant has never heard of the Allies or of this
country; he does not know that there is a blockade; all he knows is
that he used to have six cows but the Government reduced him to one
for the sake of poorer peasants, and that it takes his corn (except
what is needed for his own family) at a very low price. The reasons
for these actions do not interest him, since his horizon is bounded by
his own village. To a remarkable extent, each village is an
independent unit. So long as the Government obtains the food and
soldiers that it requires, it does not interfere, and leaves untouched
the old village communism, which is extraordinarily unlike Bolshevism
and entirely dependent upon a very primitive stage of culture.
The Government represents the interests of the urban and industrial
population, and is, as it were, encamped amid a peasant nation, with
whom its relations are rather diplomatic and military than
governmental in the ordinary sense. The economic situation, as in
Central Europe, is favourable to the country and unfavourable to the
towns. If Russia were governed democratically, according to the will
of the majority, the inhabitants of Moscow and Petrograd would die of
starvation. As it is, Moscow and Petrograd just manage to live, by
having the whole civil and military power of the State devoted to
their needs. Russia affords the curious spectacle of a vast and
powerful Empire, prosperous at the periphery, but faced with dire want
at the centre. Those who have least prosperity have most power; and
it is only through their excess of power that they are enabled to live
at all. The situation is due at bottom to two facts: that almost the
whole industrial energies of the population have had to be devoted to
war, and that the peasants do not appreciate the importance of the war
or the fact of the blockade.
It is futile to blame the Bolsheviks for an unpleasant and difficult
situation which it has been impossible for them to avoid. Their
problem is only soluble in one of two ways: by the cessation of the
war and the blockade, which would enable them to supply the peasants
with the goods they need in exchange for food; or by the gradual
development of an independent Russian industry. This latter method
would be slow, and would involve terrible hardships, but some of the
ablest men in the Government believe it to be possible if peace cannot
be achieved. If we force this method upon Russia by the refusal of
peace and trade, we shall forfeit the only inducement we can hold out
for friendly relations; we shall render the Soviet State unassailable
and completely free to pursue the policy of promoting revolution
everywhere. But the industrial problem is a large subject, which has
been already discussed in Chapter VI.
IX
INTERNATIONAL POLICY
In the course of these chapters, I have had occasion to mention
disagreeable features of the Bolshevik régime. But it must always be
remembered that these are chiefly due to the fact that the industrial
life of Russia has been paralysed except as ministering to the wants
of the Army, and that the Government has had to wage a bitter and
doubtful civil and external war, involving the constant menace of
domestic enemies. Harshness, espionage, and a curtailment of liberty
result unavoidably from these difficulties. I have no doubt whatever
that the sole cure for the evils from which Russia is suffering is
peace and trade. Peace and trade would put an end to the hostility of
the peasants, and would at once enable the Government to depend upon
popularity rather than force. The character of the Government would
alter rapidly under such conditions. Industrial conscription, which is
now rigidly enforced, would become unnecessary. Those who desire a
more liberal spirit would be able to make their voices heard without
the feeling that they were assisting reaction and the national
enemies. The food difficulties would cease, and with them the need for
an autocratic system in the towns.
It must not be assumed, as is common with opponents of Bolshevism,
that any other Government could easily be established in Russia. I
think every one who has been in Russia recently is convinced that the
existing Government is stable. It may undergo internal developments,
and might easily, but for Lenin, become a Bonapartist military
autocracy. But this would be a change from within--not perhaps a very
great change--and would probably do little to alter the economic
system. From what I saw of the Russian character and of the opposition
parties, I became persuaded that Russia is not ready for any form of
democracy, and needs a strong Government. The Bolsheviks represent
themselves as the Allies of Western advanced Socialism, and from this
point of view they are open to grave criticism. For their
international programme there is, to my mind, nothing to be said. But
as a national Government, stripped of their camouflage, regarded as
the successors of Peter the Great, they are performing a necessary
though unamiable task. They are introducing, as far as they can,
American efficiency among a lazy and undisciplined population. They
are preparing to develop the natural resources of their country by the
methods of State Socialism, for which, in Russia, there is much to be
said. In the Army they are abolishing illiteracy, and if they had
peace they would do great things for education everywhere.
But if we continue to refuse peace and trade, I do not think the
Bolsheviks will go under. Russia will endure great hardships, in the
years to come as before. But the Russians are inured to misery as no
Western nation is; they can live and work under conditions which we
should find intolerable. The Government will be driven more and more,
from mere self-preservation, into a policy of imperialism. The Entente
has been doing everything to expose Germany to a Russian invasion of
arms and leaflets, by allowing Poland to engage in war and compelling
Germany to disarm. All Asia lies open to Bolshevik ambitions. Almost
the whole of the former Russian Empire in Asia is quite firmly in
their grasp. Trains are running at a reasonable speed to Turkestan,
and I saw cotton from there being loaded on to Volga steamers. In
Persia and Turkey, revolts are taking place, with Bolshevik support.
It is only a question of a few years before India will be in touch
with the Red Army. If we continue to antagonize the Bolsheviks, I do
not see what force exists that can prevent them from acquiring the
whole of Asia within ten years.
The Russian Government is not yet definitely imperialistic in spirit,
and would still prefer peace to conquest. The country is weary of war
and denuded of goods. But if the Western Powers insist upon war,
another spirit, which is already beginning to show itself, will become
dominant. Conquest will be the only alternative to submission. Asiatic
conquest will not be difficult. But for us, from the imperialist
standpoint, it will mean utter ruin. And for the Continent it will
mean revolutions, civil wars, economic cataclysms. The policy of
crushing Bolshevism by force was always foolish and criminal; it has
now become impossible and fraught with disaster. Our own Government,
it would seem, have begun to realize the dangers, but apparently they
do not realize them sufficiently to enforce their view against
opposition.
In the Theses presented to the Second Congress of the Third
International (July 1920), there is a very interesting article by
Lenin called "First Sketch of the Theses on National and Colonial
Questions" (_Theses_, pp. 40-47). The following passages seemed to me
particularly illuminating:--
The present world-situation in politics places on the order of
the day the dictatorship of the proletariat; and all the
events of world politics are inevitably concentrated round one
centre of gravity: the struggle of the international
bourgeoisie against the Soviet Republic, which inevitably
groups round it, on the one hand the Sovietist movements of
the advanced working men of all countries, on the other hand
all the national movements of emancipation of colonies and
oppressed nations which have been convinced by a bitter
experience that there is no salvation for them except in the
victory of the Soviet Government over world-imperialism.
We cannot therefore any longer confine ourselves to
recognizing and proclaiming the union of the workers of all
countries. It is henceforth necessary to pursue the
realization of the strictest union of all the national and
colonial movements of emancipation with Soviet Russia, by
giving to this union forms corresponding to the degree of
evolution of the proletarian movement among the proletariat of
each country, or of the democratic-bourgeois movement of
emancipation among the workers and peasants of backward
countries or backward nationalities.
The federal principle appears to us as a transitory form
towards the complete unity of the workers of all countries.
This is the formula for co-operation with Sinn Fein or with Egyptian
and Indian nationalism. It is further defined later. In regard to
backward countries, Lenin says, we must have in view:--
The necessity of the co-operation of all Communists in the
democratic-bourgeois movement of emancipation in those
countries.
Again:
"The Communist International must conclude temporary alliances
with the bourgeois democracy of backward countries, but must
never fuse with it." The class-conscious proletariat must
"show itself particularly circumspect towards the survivals of
national sentiment in countries long oppressed," and must
"consent to certain useful concessions."
The Asiatic policy of the Russian Government was adopted as a move
against the British Empire, and as a method of inducing the British
Government to make peace. It plays a larger part in the schemes of the
leading Bolsheviks than is realized by the Labour Party in this
country. Its method is not, for the present, to preach Communism,
since the Persians and Hindoos are considered scarcely ripe for the
doctrines of Marx. It is nationalist movements that are supported by
money and agitators from Moscow. The method of quasi-independent
states under Bolshevik protection is well understood. It is obvious
that this policy affords opportunities for imperialism, under the
cover of propaganda, and there is no doubt that some among the
Bolsheviks are fascinated by its imperialist aspect. The importance
officially attached to the Eastern policy is illustrated by the fact
that it was the subject of the concluding portion of Lenin's speech to
the recent Congress of the Third International (July 1920).
Bolshevism, like everything Russian, is partly Asiatic in character.
One may distinguish two distinct trends, developing into two distinct
policies. On the one side are the practical men, who wish to develop
Russia industrially, to secure the gains of the Revolution nationally,
to trade with the West, and gradually settle down into a more or less
ordinary State. These men have on their side the fact of the economic
exhaustion of Russia, the danger of ultimate revolt against Bolshevism
if life continues to be as painful as it is at present, and the
natural sentiment of humanity that wishes to relieve the sufferings of
the people; also the fact that, if revolutions elsewhere produce a
similar collapse of industry, they will make it impossible for Russia
to receive the outside help which is urgently needed. In the early
days, when the Government was weak, they had unchallenged control of
policy, but success has made their position less secure.
On the other side there is a blend of two quite different aims: first,
the desire to promote revolution in the Western nations, which is in
line with Communist theory, and is also thought to be the only way of
obtaining a really secure peace; secondly, the desire for Asiatic
dominion, which is probably accompanied in the minds of some with
dreams of sapphires and rubies and golden thrones and all the glories
of their forefather Solomon. This desire produces an unwillingness to
abandon the Eastern policy, although it is realized that, until it is
abandoned, peace with capitalist England is impossible. I do not know
whether there are some to whom the thought occurs that if England were
to embark on revolution we should become willing to abandon India to
the Russians. But I am certain that the converse thought occurs,
namely that, if India could be taken from us, the blow to imperialist
feeling might lead us to revolution. In either case, the two policies,
of revolution in the West and conquest (disguised as liberation of
oppressed peoples) in the East, work in together, and dovetail into a
strongly coherent whole.
Bolshevism as a social phenomenon is to be reckoned as a religion, not
as an ordinary political movement. The important and effective mental
attitudes to the world may be broadly divided into the religious and
the scientific. The scientific attitude is tentative and piecemeal,
believing what it finds evidence for, and no more. Since Galileo, the
scientific attitude has proved itself increasingly capable of
ascertaining important facts and laws, which are acknowledged by all
competent people regardless of temperament or self-interest or
political pressure. Almost all the progress in the world from the
earliest times is attributable to science and the scientific temper;
almost all the major ills are attributable to religion.
By a religion I mean a set of beliefs held as dogmas, dominating the
conduct of life, going beyond or contrary to evidence, and inculcated
by methods which are emotional or authoritarian, not intellectual. By
this definition, Bolshevism is a religion: that its dogmas go beyond
or contrary to evidence, I shall try to prove in what follows. Those
who accept Bolshevism become impervious to scientific evidence, and
commit intellectual suicide. Even if all the doctrines of Bolshevism
were true, this would still be the case, since no unbiased examination
of them is tolerated. One who believes, as I do, that the free
intellect is the chief engine of human progress, cannot but be
fundamentally opposed to Bolshevism, as much as to the Church of Rome.
Among religions, Bolshevism is to be reckoned with Mohammedanism
rather than with Christianity and Buddhism. Christianity and Buddhism
are primarily personal religions, with mystical doctrines and a love
of contemplation. Mohammedanism and Bolshevism are practical, social,
unspiritual, concerned to win the empire of this world. Their founders
would not have resisted the third of the temptations in the
wilderness. What Mohammedanism did for the Arabs, Bolshevism may do
for the Russians. As Ali went down before the politicians who only
rallied to the Prophet after his success, so the genuine Communists
may go down before those who are now rallying to the ranks of the
Bolsheviks. If so, Asiatic empire with all its pomps and splendours
may well be the next stage of development, and Communism may seem, in
historical retrospect, as small a part of Bolshevism as abstinence
from alcohol is of Mohammedanism. It is true that, as a world force,
whether for revolution or for empire, Bolshevism must sooner or later
be brought by success into a desperate conflict with America; and
America is more solid and strong, as yet, than anything that
Mohammed's followers had to face. But the doctrines of Communism are
almost certain, in the long run, to make progress among American
wage-earners, and the opposition of America is therefore not likely to
be eternal. Bolshevism may go under in Russia, but even if it does it
will spring up again elsewhere, since it is ideally suited to an
industrial population in distress. What is evil in it is mainly due to
the fact that it has its origin in distress; the problem is to
disentangle the good from the evil, and induce the adoption of the
good in countries not goaded into ferocity by despair.
Russia is a backward country, not yet ready for the methods of equal
co-operation which the West is seeking to substitute for arbitrary
power in politics and industry. In Russia, the methods of the
Bolsheviks are probably more or less unavoidable; at any rate, I am
not prepared to criticize them in their broad lines. But they are not
the methods appropriate to more advanced countries, and our Socialists
will be unnecessarily retrograde if they allow the prestige of the
Bolsheviks to lead them into slavish imitation. It will be a far less
excusable error in our reactionaries if, by their unteachableness,
they compel the adoption of violent methods. We have a heritage of
civilization and mutual tolerance which is important to ourselves and
to the world. Life in Russia has always been fierce and cruel, to a
far greater degree than with us, and out of the war has come a danger
that this fierceness and cruelty may become universal. I have hopes
that in England this may be avoided through the moderation of both
sides. But it is essential to a happy issue that melodrama should no
longer determine our views of the Bolsheviks: they are neither angels
to be worshipped nor devils to be exterminated, but merely bold and
able men attempting with great skill an almost impossible task.