ANOTHER VISIT TO PETER KROPOTKIN
A few days before our Expedition started for the Ukraine the
opportunity presented itself to pay another visit to Peter Kropotkin.
I was delighted at the chance to see the dear old man under more
favourable conditions than I had seen him in March. I expected at least
that we would not be handicapped by the presence of newspaper men as we
were on the previous occasion.
On my first visit, in snow-clad March, I arrived at the Kropotkin
cottage late in the evening. The place looked deserted and desolate.
But now it was summer time. The country was fresh and fragrant; the
garden at the back of the house, clad in green, smiled cheerfully,
the golden rays of the sun spreading warmth and light. Peter, who was
having his afternoon nap, could not be seen, but Sofya Grigorievna,
his wife, was there to greet us. We had brought some provisions given
to Sasha Kropotkin for her father, and several baskets of things sent
by an Anarchist group. While we were unpacking those treasures Peter
Alekseyevitch surprised us. He seemed a changed man: the summer had
wrought a miracle in him. He appeared healthier, stronger, more alive
than when I had last seen him. He immediately took us to the vegetable
garden which was almost entirely Sofya's own work and served as the
main support of the family. Peter was very proud of it. "What do you
say to this!" he exclaimed; "all Sofya's labour. And see this new
species of lettuce"--pointing at a huge head. He looked young; he was
almost gay, his conversation sparkling. His power of observation, his
keen sense of humour and generous humanity were so refreshing, he made
one forget the misery of Russia, one's own conflicts and doubts, and
the cruel reality of life.
After dinner we gathered in Peter's study--a small room containing an
ordinary table for a desk, a narrow cot, a wash-stand, and shelves of
books. I could not help making a mental comparison between this simple,
cramped study of Kropotkin and the gorgeous quarters of Radek and
Zinoviev. Peter was interested to know my impressions since he saw me
last. I related to him how confused and harassed I was, how everything
seemed to crumble beneath my feet. I told him that I had come to doubt
almost everything, even the Revolution itself. I could not reconcile
the ghastly reality with what the Revolution had meant to me when I
came to Russia. Were the conditions I found inevitable--the callous
indifference to human life, the terrorism, the waste and agony of it
all? Of course, I knew revolutions could not be made with kid gloves.
It is a stern necessity involving violence and destruction, a difficult
and terrible process. But what I had found in Russia was utterly unlike
revolutionary conditions, so fundamentally unlike as to be a caricature.
Peter listened attentively; then he said: "There is no reason whatever
to lose faith. I consider the Russian Revolution even greater than the
French, for it has struck deeper into the soul of Russia, into the
hearts and minds of the Russian people. Time alone can demonstrate
its full scope and depth. What you see to-day is only the surface,
conditions artificially created by a governing class. You see a
small political party which by its false theories, blunders, and
inefficiency has demonstrated how revolutions must _not_ be made." It
was unfortunate--Kropotkin continued--that so many of the Anarchists
in Russia and the masses outside of Russia had been carried away by
the ultra-revolutionary pretenses of the Bolsheviki. In the great
upheaval it was forgotten that the Communists are a political party
firmly adhering to the idea of a centralized State, and that as
such they were bound to misdirect the course of the Revolution. The
Bolsheviki were the Jesuits of the Socialist Church: they believed in
the Jesuitic motto that the end justifies the means. Their end being
political power, they hesitate at nothing. The means, however, have
paralysed the energies of the masses and have terrorized the people.
Yet without the people, without the direct participation of the masses
in the reconstruction of the country, nothing essential could be
accomplished. The Bolsheviki had been carried to the top by the high
tide of the Revolution. Once in power they began to stem the tide.
They have been trying to eliminate and suppress the cultural forces of
the country not entirely in agreement with their ideas and methods.
They destroyed the coöperatives which were of utmost importance to the
life of Russia, the great link between the country and the city. They
created a bureaucracy and officialdom which surpasses even that of the
old régime. In the village where he lived, in little Dmitrov, there
were more Bolshevik officials than ever existed there during the reign
of the Romanovs. All those people were living off the masses. They were
parasites on the social body, and Dmitrov was only a small example
of what was going on throughout Russia. It was not the fault of any
particular individuals: rather was it the State they had created, which
discredits every revolutionary ideal, stifles all initiative, and sets
a premium on incompetence and waste. It should also not be forgotten,
Kropotkin emphasized, that the blockade and the continuous attacks on
the Revolution by the interventionists had helped to strengthen the
power of the Communist régime. Intervention and blockade were bleeding
Russia to death, and were preventing the people from understanding the
real nature of the Bolshevik régime.
Discussing the activities and rôle of the Anarchists in the Revolution,
Kropotkin said: "We Anarchists have talked much of revolutions, but
few of us have been prepared for the actual work to be done during the
process. I have indicated some things in this relation in my 'Conquest
of Bread.' Pouget and Pataud have also sketched a line of action in
their work on 'How to Accomplish the Social Revolution.'" Kropotkin
thought that the Anarchists had not given sufficient consideration
to the fundamental elements of the social revolution. The real facts
in a revolutionary process do not consist so much in the actual
fighting--that is, merely the destructive phase necessary to clear
the way for constructive effort. The basic factor in a revolution is
the organization of the economic life of the country. The Russian
Revolution had proved conclusively that we must prepare thoroughly for
that. Everything else is of minor importance. He had come to think that
syndicalism was likely to furnish what Russia most lacked: the channel
through which the industrial and economic reconstruction of the country
may flow. He referred to Anarcho-syndicalism. That and the coöperatives
would save other countries some of the blunders and suffering Russia
was going through.
I left Dmitrov much comforted by the warmth and light which the
beautiful personality of Peter Kropotkin radiated; and I was much
encouraged by what I had heard from him. I returned to Moscow to help
with the completion of the preparations for our journey. At last, on
July 15, 1920, our car was coupled to a train bound for the Ukraine.