Gramsci, Riley, and Fascism

I’m on a bit of a hiatus from my coursework, having finished my first class with the University of Edinburgh about a month ago, the term paper for which is here. Now, I’m waiting to hear about admission to a different Master’s program, which would save me a significant amount of money on tuition. I’m superstitious enough not to mention which school that is.

In the meantime, I’m reading a few things that are relevant to my research line and a couple that aren’t. In the former category is Dylan Riley’s The Civic Foundations of Fascism in Europe. Riley, who teaches political sociology at UC Berkeley, deploys an argument to counter the convention wisdom that a major contributor to the rise of fascism in interwar Europe was the lack of strong civil societies and related institutions. Actually, he maintains, the countries in which fascism emerged were characterized by strong civil societies with fairly lengthy histories. The cases he cites are Italy, Spain, and Romania; he then considers the cases of Hungary (which Riley identifies as authoritarian but not fascist) and Nazi Germany, showing that Germany shared aspects of his model, whereas Hungary did not.

At the core of Riley’s work is a theory of societal conflict based on the work of Antonio Gramsci, the Italian Marxist theoretician and political prisoner. Riley deploys Gramsci’s concept of hegemony to explain the rise of fascism and its relationship to the existence and strength of civil society. The hegemonic project, particularly as regards social reform, requires that hegemony begin with the hegemonic group establishing intraclass hegemony with other groups within the same social class. E.g., the military might be the initial locus of power, and in the process of intra-class hegemony, it extends its power toward the church. The second stage involves the transfer of hegemony to other classes. Here, for instance, an example would be a national political party attracting voters from a workers’ union. Finally, there is counterhegemony, where the class or social group that will arise to lead revolutionary change emerges in conflict against the hegemonic class or group.

Riley does a reasonably good job of making his case. He’s well versed in most of the history of the countries he analyzes. I think where I part ways with him is in his characterization of fascism (or the lack thereof) in Spain and Romania. First, it’s an open question regarding whether fascism was actually established to any significant extent in Spain. Certainly there were fascist strains within the Falange, and Riley is careful to note this point, but he seems overly eager to politicize Franco, who with the exceptions of being anti-democracy and anti-socialism, seems to have been relatively apolitical. The case of Romania is more complex and less well studied. He makes the argument that Codreanu’s Iron Guard moved away from anti-Semitism and it acquired political power, which is a theory I’d not seen floated before.

Finally, I’m also not sure of how Riley uses the term “democracy.” As part of his central thesis, he sees fascism as the result of failed hegemony in combination with a strong civil society presence. As a democratizing force, without strong political institutions, Riley theorizes, a society with failed hegemonic institutions will realize the democratic aspirations of civil society not through political democracy with elections (liberal democracy) but rather through the political expression of a more organic (ethnic?) sort of democracy. Where I think Riley might have been more accurate would have been to say that democratization with a lack of hegemonic political institutions gives rise to populism rather than to fascism. Whether populism is a core aspect of fascism is itself an open question, but I don’t see a strong enough definition of fascism in Riley’s book to bear out his model a hundred percent.

Anyway, I nevertheless enjoyed the book and found its ideas interesting. Whether it will play a significant role in my thinking about fascism as an historical movement remains to be seen. Next up, I’m reading Eric Cline’s 1177 B.C.: The Year Civilization Collapsed, which while not on the topic of 20th century history nevertheless engages another interest of mine — textual criticism of ancient cultures and history of the Near East.

Jewish Refugees in the Kresy: Soviet Loyalty Testing

When Nazi Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939, a large number of Jews fled east. When the Red Army invaded Poland from the east sixteen days later, these Jewish refugees found themselves under Soviet rule. By the time the border was formalized between the Soviet and German zones of occupation, thousands of Jewish refugees were in the Soviet zone. Over the course of the coming months, these refugees were offered Soviet passports, which many rejected; in addition, when Nazi-Soviet cooperation over population transfers culminated in German committees appearing in eastern Poland to vet returnees to the Generalgouvernement, a large number of Jews applied to return to the German zone of occupation. An examination of these events makes it clear that the Jewish refugees were subjected to a series of loyalty tests by the Soviet occupation forces, culminating in the forced deportation of a large number to the Soviet interior.

            According to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, 300,000 Jewish refugees from the Generalgouvernement and the regions of Poland annexed to the Reich were in the Kresy – the Polish term for the eastern third of the Second Polish Republic, consisting of territory annexed from Lithuania and the Soviet Union – when the Soviets annexed the territory on November 15, 1939.[1]These refugees, like the Jewish population remaining under the Nazi occupation, came from a variety of walks of life. Beyond the professions of the refugees, which included white collar professionals, small business owners, tradespeople, and industrial laborers, the political persuasions of the refugees ran the gamut from members of mainstream Polish political parties to Jewish-specific parties, including those for the religious community (Agudas Yisroel), for Zionists (themselves running the gamut from left to right), and for socialists (the General Jewish Workers’ Association, called the Bund in Yiddish).

            All of these factors contributed to the Soviets’ suspicions of these refugees. As a state that was officially and militantly atheist, the Soviet Union viewed Judaism as an equivalent threat to any other faith, and as a nationalist movement, Zionism was seen by the Soviets as bourgeois and reactionary; as a result, the use of Hebrew for either religious or political reasons had been severely circumscribed by Soviet authorities in the early 1920s.[2]Regarding the Bund, its relationship with Soviet authorities was more complicated. Founded in 1897 in Vilnius, the party had split in 1920 into a left faction that was absorbed by the Bolsheviks the following year and a right faction that persisted underground for a few years before disappearing. Outside the USSR, however, the Bund had gained political power in Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, and especially Poland. Members of the Bund in these countries had been labeled “social fascists” by Stalin with the rest of the non-Bolshevik left during the 1930s. Now Polish Bundists were arriving in the Soviet zone of occupation. Although a large percentage of Bundists from western Poland and the Generalgouvernement went to Vilnius, which would not be occupied by the Soviets until June 1940, significant numbers nevertheless gathered in Lviv, Bialystok, and other large cities and towns in the Soviet occupation zone.

            While the period of the Great Purges had ended by the time the Soviets occupied the Kresy, it is important to note that, as with former members of other non-Bolshevik political parties, such as Trotskyists or Mensheviks, former Bundists were purged in the 1930s. Noting the tendency of the accused during the purges to be former members of other socialist or left-wing parties, rather than actual “reactionaries,” Robert Conquest notes that the Bund “was a particularly fatal association.”[3]Therefore, it is unsurprising that the Bundist leadership in the Kresy was arrested in massive sweeps a few weeks after the Soviet invasion. Most famously, Henryk Erlich and Wiktor Alter, two prominent Bundist leaders from Warsaw, were arrested in Brest and Kovel, respectively.

            However, while Erlich and Alter’s prominence in the Polish Bund had marked them for early detention, the majority of Jewish refugees in the Kresy when the border between the Soviet and Nazis zones was established were of unknown political affiliation. Therefore, to determine the loyalties of these new residents, it was necessary for the Soviet authorities to institute a series of tests. Calls for volunteers for labor battalions for details in the Soviet interior afforded the earliest opportunity. According to Grzegorz Hryciuk’s highly detailed analysis of the period, nearly 60,000 refugees from the other parts of Poland – including not only Jews but also Ukrainians and Poles – relocated to eastern districts of Ukraine, including the Donbas mines, between October 1939 and August 1940.[4]

            However, even if every refugee sent on a work detail during this period were Jewish, it would still leave four-fifths of the refugees in the Kresy, with the loyalties of these refugees unknown to Soviet authorities. Another approach would be necessary. According to N.S. Lebedeva, based on her examination of Russian archival documents, NKVD head L.P. Beria, N.A. Bulganin, N.M. Shvernik, and L.P. Korniets, a high-ranking official in the government of the Ukrainian SSR, formed a commission on refugees in November.[5]In addition to addressing the continued allocation of volunteers to labor, the commission sought to investigate the possibility of repatriating the refugees to their former homes.

            Beyond the commission, however, was a decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of November 29, 1939, granting citizenship to inhabitants of the Kresy. The decree was in three sections, the first of which defined two categories of people immediately receiving Soviet citizenship:

a) former Polish citizens who were on the territory of the western regions of the Ukraine and Belorussia when these became part of the USSR;

b) persons who arrived in the USSR on the basis of the agreement of November 16, 1939, between the Government of the USSR and the German Government, as well as those who arrived in consequence of the cession by the USSR to Lithuania of the city of Vilnius and Vilnius Region in accordance with the agreement of October 10, 1939.[6]

 

            Thus, any Polish citizen residing in the Kresy as of November 1-2 was a Soviet citizen, as was any person emigrating to the Soviet Union from Nazi Germany. The former category undoubtedly included many Jews, while the latter category specifically did not. Regarding the Vilnius region, many Jews fled to, rather than from, that area, believing Lithuanian independence might be permanent. Regarding the cited agreement between the Reich and Soviet Union of November 16, the agreement specifically stipulated the transfer of only ethnic Russians, Belarusians, and Ukrainians. The agreement of November formalized one of the secret annexes to the Molotov-von Ribbentrop pact in which the agreement of the Soviets to allow Volksdeutschein the USSR to emigrate to the Reich is reciprocated: “A corresponding obligation is assumed by the Government of the German Reich in respect to the persons of Ukrainian or Belorussian descent residing in the territories under its jurisdiction.”[7]

            The next step in the process of bestowing citizenship on previous Polish nationals was to issue them Soviet passports to replace their Polish passports. The so-called passportization operation appears in virtually all of the literature on the period. For instance, Sara Bender, in her book on the city of Bialystok during the war, notes that, while Polish citizens were forced to surrender their passports for Soviet ones, the refugees were allowed to choose, and if they elected not to accept Soviet citizenship, they could request return to the Generalgouvernement.[8]In contrast, Lebedeva and Yosef Litvak specifically interpret the choice as illusory and designed to prepare for these refugees’ ultimate deportation; Litvak further states that the SS authorized the Soviet authorities to post public announcements that refugees could apply for return to the German zone of occupation, but he does not cite specific sources for this claim.[9]

            We do not know what percentages of Jewish refugees opted for a Soviet passport versus return to the Generalgouvernement. However, we can assume that many Jews who already had left-wing or communist sympathies and many who rightly feared returning to Nazi occupation accepted the Soviet passport. However, many also registered to go west. Christoph Mick, for instance, alleges that 75% of registrants in Lviv requesting to go west were Jewish.[10]Bender attributes some of these choices to a desire for family unity and reports that, at least at the end of 1939, conditions in Warsaw, e.g., were tolerable.[11]She also notes that Bundists broadly refused the passport, both fearing Stalinist political repression and having heard of Bundist underground activity getting under way in the German occupation zone. Bogdan Musial, citing NKVD documents on the topic, notes that the Soviet secret police viewed Bundist calls from Poland to support the Soviet regime “as a tactical manoeuvre to ensure the survival of the Bund’s own leadership corps.”[12]Zionists generally refused the passport, fearing that they were be forbidden by Soviet authorities from eventually emigrating to Palestine; like many Bundists, they concentrated in Vilnius and continued to organize from there.

            It was with the arrival in the Kresy of committees of staff members of the German Volksdeutsche Mittelstelle(VoMi) to process applications for transfer to the Generalgouvernement, including of Volksdeutsche, that the magnitude of the number of Jews who had refused passportization was determined. In what in hindsight can only be considered a fatal miscalculation, thousands of Jews appeared before committees in Lviv, Bialystok, and other cities to request return to the German occupation zone. The incidents are attested in numerous primary sources from former Nazi and Soviet authorities and from Jewish émigrés. For instance, the Yiddish writer Moishe Grossman reported being told by another émigré about Jews crossing from the Generalgouvernement into the Kresy seeing Jews coming in the other direction and urging them to go back.[13]

            More reliably, one of the defendants in the Nuremberg Military Tribunal trial against the SS Race and Settlement Office, Otto Heinz Brückner, who worked for VoMi, testified about the resettlement actions. Asked whether he was able to process non-Volksdeutsche applications for resettlement, he said, “In a fairly large number of individual cases, we were. I did this whenever it was definite that these people were facing extinction in the Soviet Union, and if I could find a way to carry through this resettlement. I remember that at the time I re­settled Swiss, Swedes, Lithuanians, Russians and people of Jewish descent too. This meant a definite danger for me at that time.”[14]Although Brückner’s testimony must be approached with caution given its exculpatory nature, his account is corroborated in part by an entry in the diary of Hans Frank, the German Governor General of Poland in Krakow. In this entry, dated May 3, 1940, Frank recounts a meeting with Otto Wächter, who chaired the VoMi committee in Lviv and was later the district governor there, at which Wächter told Frank, “Of approximately 18,000 refugees, 16,500 were Jews, who in any case awaited admission to the Generalgouvernement.”[15]

            Finally, no less a figure than N.S. Khrushchev reported the spectacle in his memoirs. In Lviv at the time as head of the CPSU in Ukraine to oversee the city’s incorporation into the USSR, Khrushchev reports being told by I.A. Serov, NKVD head in Ukraine, that the lines registering to go west were quite long. Serov reportedly said, “When I approached the place I found it very painful, because most of the waiting line consisted of people from the Jewish population. What’s going to happen to them? And yet, this is how devoted people are to all kinds of petty everyday things—an apartment, material objects. They give the Gestapo agents bribes to help them leave here sooner and return to their hearths and homes.”[16]

            As noted by these sources, there were a number of Jews who returned to the Generalgouvernement under the auspices of VoMi. We can assume that most of these Jews perished over the course of the coming years. Conversely, we know that many Jews without Soviet passports remained in the Kresy following the appearance there of the resettlement committees. Because one of the four subsequent deportations specifically targeted the Jewish refugees who had not accepted the Soviet passport, some scholars have assumed that there was a coordinated effort between VoMi and the NKVD to identify Jewish applicants. In his book on the period, for instance, Dov Levin writes that VoMi’s lists were “presumably forwarded” to the NKVD but he does not cite any sources.[17]As noted above, Litvak saw the whole process as a ruse, calling it a “malicious act of deceit”; however, his proof is the mere existence of the VoMi committees, which we know now were charged with much larger processes of population transfer.[18]

            There is one piece of information that perhaps supports the assertions of Levin and Litvak on this point, however. Specifically, in a message to V.M. Molotov asking for direction, Ye.I. Chekmenev, who headed the resettlement program for the Council of People’s Soviet of the USSR (Sovnarkom), wrote the following:

The [Sovnarkom] Resettlement Administration has received two letters from the Berlin and Vienna resettlement bureaus concerning the resettlement of Jews from Germany to the USSR – specifically to Birobidzhan and the Western Ukraine.

Under the evacuation agreement between the USSR Government and Germany, only ethnic Ukrainians, Belarusians, Rusins [sic], and Russians are subject to evacuation to Soviet territory.

We believe that the proposals by the aforementioned resettlement bureaus cannot be accepted.

Awaiting further instructions.[19]

 

The message is notable not only because of its inclusion of Rusyns along with Ukrainians and Belarusians but also because it is clear that Chekmenev’s recommendation was adopted by Molotov. It is uncertain whether Chekmenev was motivated by adhering to the letter of the agreements signed by Germany and the USSR, personal anti-Semitism, a desire to avoid further complication of what was already becoming a logistical nightmare, or some other factor.

            The aforementioned mass deportations from the Kresy began in February 1940, but the first two actions did not target the refugees. Rather, these deportations targeted, respectively, veterans of the Polish-Soviet war that ended in 1921 and their families. While these deportations were being carried out, however, decisions to target the now undocumented Jewish refugees were being made. Hryciuk identifies two high-level decisions: first, a decision of the Politburo of Central Committee of the CPSU on March 2, 1940; and second, a resolution of Sovnarkom on April 10.[20]The deportation targeting refugees in the Kresy was subsequently carried out on June 28-29, with more than 64,000 Jewish refugees deported and another 13,600 arrested and detained.[21]

            One irony of the fate of the Jewish refugees in the Kresy is that this mass deportation of refugees in June 1940 is that, while it undoubtedly netted many rank and file Jewish political party members, it largely missed the parties’ leaders, most of whom, as noted above, had relocated to Vilnius. When Lithuania was subjected to direct Soviet rule in the same month, plans were made to target these leaders. For instance, Arcadius Kahan, who after the war would become an economic historian associated with the University of Chicago, was arrested almost immediately upon Soviet occupation of Vilnius, on the basis of his Bundist and Menshevik associations. In perhaps the most famous case, future Prime Minister of Israel Menachem Begin, who led the Revisionist Zionist Betar youth group in Vilnius, was arrested on September 20, 1940. In the fourth and final deportations, carried out across all of the territory the USSR occupied since September 1939 – including the Kresy, the Baltic states, Bessarabia, and Bukovina – the remaining known politically oriented Jewish refugees were seized and deported.

            One week later, Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union. The final irony of the Jewish refugees in the Kresy is that deportation to the Soviet interior likely saved their lives, as the vast majority of Jews in those areas, the Baltic states, and Bessarabia and Bukovina were killed in the coming weeks and months by Einsatzgruppen deployed the Nazi for that purpose. Some of the Jews who had been deported earlier were freed to fight the Nazis. Erlich and Alter, for instance, who months earlier had been tried for anti-Soviet activities and sentenced to death, were freed to help form the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee. However, they were arrested again later in 1941 and executed. Begin, who had been held near Saint Petersburg, was allowed to leave and join the Anders Army, with which he deployed in 1942 to Palestine. Bundist and Zionist activists under the Nazi occupation organized resistance movements. Most died, but some, including Marek Edelman, a Bundist from Warsaw, returned to Poland after the war and continued their resistance to Soviet domination.

            In conclusion, the influx of thousands of Jewish refugees into the Kresy upon the Nazi invasion of Poland posed a significant challenge for Soviet authorities upon their own occupation of these territories a couple of weeks later, particularly because many of these refugees had political affiliations identified as problematic by the Soviets. Although citizenship was granted to these refugees, a series of loyalty tests were nevertheless imposed on them, with opportunities to volunteer for labor followed by passportization. Finally, Jews rejecting Soviet passports were given the opportunity to apply with the German authorities to return to their homes. Since few were admitted, they were largely arrested in the waves of deportation that followed. While these refugees were subsequently subjected to great hardship, their chance of survival was far greater if deported. In the end, the refugees’ own hostility to Soviet rule might have saved their own lives.

 


[1]Holocaust Encyclopedia, s.v. “German Invasion of Poland: Jewish Refugees, 1939,” accessed November 30, 2017, https://www.ushmm.org/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005593

[2]Zvi Gitelman, A Century of Ambivalence: The Jews of Russia and the Soviet Union, 1881 to the Present, 2nd ed. (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 2001), 77.

[3]Robert Conquest, The Great Terror: A Reassessment (New York: Oxford UP, 2008), 272.

[4]Grzegorz Hryciuk, “Victims 1939-1941: The Soviet Repressions in Eastern Poland,” in Shared History – Divided Memory: Jews and Others in Soviet-Occupied Poland, 1939-1941, edited by Elazar Barkan, Elizabeth A. Cole, and Kai Struve, Leipziger Beiträge zur Jüdischen Geschichte und Kultur 5 (Leipzig, Germany: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2007), 198.

[5]N.S. Lebedeva, “The Deportation of the Polish Population to the USSR, 1939–41,” Journal of Communist Studies and Transition Politics, 16, nos. 1-2 (2000): 31

[6]“On the Acquisition of Citizenship of the USSR by Inhabitants of the Western Districts of the Ukrainian and Belorussian SSRs,” Soviet Statutes and Decisions, 7, no. 3 (1971): 260

[7]German-Soviet Boundary and Friendship Treaty, Germany-Soviet Union, September 28, 1939, in “The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact: The Documents,” Litanus, 35, no. 1 (1989): 1-5, accessed November 30, 2017, http://www.lituanus.org/1989/89_1_03.htm

[8]Sara Bender, The Jews of Bialystok During World War II and the Holocaust, translated by Yaffa Murciano (Waltham, Mass.: Brandeis UP, 2008), 86.

[9]Lebedeva, ibid, 31; Yosef Litvak, “The Plight of Refugees From the German-occupied Territories,” in The Soviet Takeover of the Polish Eastern Provinces, 1939-41, edited by Keith Sword (New York: Macmillan, 1991), 67

[10]Christoph Mick, “Incompatible Experiences: Poles, Ukrainians and Jews in Lviv under Soviet and German Occupation, 1939–44,” Journal of Contemporary History, 46, no. 2 (2011): 352.

[11]Bender, ibid, 55.

[12]Bogdan Musial, “Jewish Resistance in Poland’s Eastern Borderlands During the Second World War, 1939–41,” Patterns of Prejudice, 38, no. 4 (2004): 379.

[13]Quoted in Ben-Cion Pinchuk, “Jewish Refugees in Soviet Poland,” Jewish Social Studies, 40, no. 2 (1978): 158, note 82.

[14]Testimony of Otto Heinz Brückner, United States v. Ulrich Greifelt et al., December 19, 1947, in Trials of the Major War Criminals Before the Nuremberg Military Tribunals, vol. IV (Washington, D.C.: US GPO, 1949): 843.

[15]Hans Frank, entry of May 3, 1940, Diensttagebuch Hans Frank, 2233-PS, International Military Tribunal XXIX, Nuremberg, Germany, 358.

[16]Nikita Khrushchev, Memoirs of Nikita Khrushchev, vol. 1, edited by Sergei Khrushchev (College Park, Pa.: Penn State UP, 2005), 242.

[17]Dov Levin, The Lesser of Two Evils: Eastern European Jewry Under Soviet Rule, 1939-1941 (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1995), 194.

[18]Litvak, ibid, 67.

[19]Ye.I. Chekmenev to V.M. Molotov, February 9, 1940, in Pavel Polyan, “Two Million Unsaved Jews,” Moscow News, April 27, 2005, accessed November 30, 2017, http://archive.is/43HZX

[20]Hryciuk, ibid, 189.

[21]Ibid, 190.

Russia v. Ukraine: Causes and Consequences

What are the causes and consequences of the Russia-Ukraine conflict?

It seems pretty clear the causes of the conflict between Russia and Ukraine consist of a combination of ethnolinguistic divisions and security concerns, with some small historical factors thrown into the mix. I’m a big fan of maps as a means of understanding issues. Below is a map that I feel represents the ethnolinguistic situation fairly well:


Unsurprisingly, the areas annexed by Russia — particularly Crimea — are those areas with a Russian ethnic majority or significant minority and that are Russian-speaking. I wrote last week about the extent to which Putin’s foreign policy has been irrendentist at least with regard to the protection, if not annexation, of Russians living outside Russia’s borders.

Another map lays out why security concerns caused the conflict:

  
This map of the Rada election results in 2014 shows People’s Front (pro-EU) voters in the Ukrainian ethnolinguistic areas and the opposition in the Russian areas. Therefore, for Russia, concerns about accession to the EU and further separation of Ukraine from Russia at the very least provided a pretense for intervention. Finally, it bears noting that the USSR had bestowed Crimea on Ukraine only in the 1950s, so an historical argument could be made that, in the case of the peninsula, a legitimate claim cwas being made by Russia.

In terms of the consequences, the most important one, I think, is the extent to which it has brought Putin and Russia into further conflict with the EU and United States. Hawks in the U.S. had already been gunning for Putin over his intervention in Georgia, but the Obama administration had sought a “Russian reset,” at least during Obama’s first term. However, the Ukrainian conflict turned the relationship overwhelmingly negative, giving rise to Russian-U.S. conflict the full extent of which we have yet to see.

The Medvedev Interregnum

6.1. What was the significance of the Medvedev interregnum?

I think the greatest significance of the Medvedev interregnum was that the period signaled to the world and the country itself that Russia would at least continue to give the outward appearance of democracy, even while ultimate political power continued to be wielded by Putin. For all of the ink (apparently) spilled in considering the extent to which consigning Putin to a term as prime minister as Medvedev ascended to the presidency would change the power dynamic, I don’t think that the period was all that significant in terms of genuine changes implemented by Medvedev. Perhaps in making this assessment I am relying too much on knowing the outcome in the five years since Putin has returned to the presidency.

Here, Alexander Baturo and Slava Mikhaylov seem to have made a strong case for Medvedev at least believing for some of the period that he might be an independent actor from Putin in establishing his own policy initiatives. They emphasize his liberalization and modernization schemes, for example, although they note that he mainly enunciated these goals in speeches and writing rather than in concrete proposals. Thus, they conclude, Medvedev “could be regarded as neither a figurehead nor a fully-fledged successor.”[1] Simultaneously, they note, Russian regional governors drifted more into Putin’s orbit during Medvedev’s presidency. Thus, in the end, Medvedev was more of a placeholder than perhaps he himself realized at the time.

What I’m left wondering is why Medvedev stayed on with Putin after the latter returned to the presidency. Ola Cichowlas wrote in March of this year that Medvedev had made himself a millionaire several times over via corruption as part of Putin’s team, but he was increasingly being seen as a scapegoat for the government as economic misfortune has led to dissatisfaction among the population. “While Putin’s approval ratings have soared as a result of his efforts to play tough with the West and secure military victories abroad,” Cichowlas writes, “Medvedev has taken the blame for falling living standards at home. For the past few years, the Russian public, and even some within Putin’s hard-line inner circle, have considered Medvedev both weak and dispensable.”[2] Nevertheless, at this writing, Medvedev remains the prime minister. Perhaps he poses more of a danger to Putin’s hold on power as a potentially popular figure than as the unpopular man he is today.

======

[1] Alexander Baturo and Slava Mikhaylov, “Reading the Tea Leaves: Medvedev’s Presidency Through Political Rhetoric of Federal and Sub-National Actors,” Europe-Asia Studies, 66, no. 6 (2014): 974.
[2] Ola Cichowlas, “The Most Hated Man in Russia,” Foreign Affairs, March 28, 2017,
http://foreignpolicy.com/2017/03/28/the-most-hated-man-in-russia-dmitry-medvedev-protests-putin/, accessed November 27, 2017

Failure of Democracy in Post-Soviet Russia

5.2. Why has the post-Soviet space not democratized?

To some extent, I think, to recognize why the post-Soviet space has not democratized, it’s necessary to recognize why other places have. The so-called Western democracies democratized slowly over the course of decades if not hundreds of years, so it’s perhaps fair to ask whether we might not have to wait a similar period of time before democratization really happens elsewhere. In addition, it is important to examine where democracy has succeeded and failed elsewhere in the world, e.g., in some parts of Latin America (Chile and Uruguay, for examples) and in the Middle East, respectively. In the end, I think it is a combination of economics and security concerns that has prevented full democratization in the post-Soviet area. 
On the former point, those countries that did democratize, whether in the tradition of the Western nations or the later cases in Latin America, did so within an environment of relative economic health. While it is a foregone conclusion that bad economic times can cause people to abandon democracy, it might be less obvious that economic stability can foster greater democratization. In the case of the post-Soviet space, the economic situation has not been great since 1991. Although there was obvious economic growth during the 1990s, it went mostly to the top levels, where it increased wealth inequality, rather than the growth being distributed more evenly among income groups. This pattern of growth was especially true in Russia. Since 2001, energy crises due to 9/11 and the subsequent war on terrorism and the 2008 global economic crisis both negatively affected even those economics that had done well during the 1990s, with the result of democratization, slow as it might have been, being reversed and authoritarianism re-asserted. 
On the latter point, Plato asserted 2,500 years ago that tyrannical rule emerged out of democracy yielding chaos and that tyrants went to war to consolidate their regimes. While the comparison to contemporary authoritarian regimes is less than perfect, it is nevertheless true that serious security concerns have arisen in many of the post-Soviet states, with the result that a decreased emphasis on diversity of opinion has been the result. For instance, where ethnic conflicts have emerged, e.g., between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh, there has been stunted democracy and the re-emergence of authoritarianism. To some extent, have a history of being victims of genocide has facilitated this reaction among Armenians; the sense of being besieged probably contributes to this phenomenon among Azeris. In a larger sense, concerns about Islamic fundamentalist violence could fuel security concerns in Central Asia and, during the 1990s, in Russia itself. It is more likely that Russia and Russian-aligned states fear the United States militarily and that those states pulling away from Russia fear Russia seeking to re-establish (neo-)colonial rule on the basis of protecting ethnically Russian populations. The specific fears are different on the two sides of the border, but the end result of resurgent authoritarianism is shared.

Why Did the USSR Collapse?

5.1 Is the collapse of the USSR more attributable to personality, institutional or structural features?

I think the collapse of the USSR was attributable to all three of the features: personality, institutional, and structural. Presuming that Mikhail Gorbachev is the person referred to in the first regard, I think it’s fair to say that his personality played an essential role in the country’s collapse, although obviously it’s more difficult to say whether the dismantling of the Soviet state was by design or an unintended consequence of reform. Here, the readings for the week offer a range of viewpoints. David Marples’s analysis is particularly useful in pointing out how, on the one hand, Gorbachev had risen through the ranks of the party into the elite with the paradoxical effect that “Neither workers, nor peasants, nor the intellectual elite accepted him as one of their own.”[1] While such a characterization might initially seem to constitute a handicap, I rather think the lack of personal connections allowed Gorbachev to have a sort of maneuverability that a leader more attached to the party (e.g., Brezhnev) or to the workers and peasants (e.g., Khrushchev) might not have had. At those times where the wisdom of Gorbachev’s decisions faltered (such as in the Lithuanian crisis early in 1991), he was probably saved more by luck than ability, but outside of the last year of his tenure, I don’t think was the overarching style of Gorbachev’s leadership.

Regarding institutional features, the diminishing role of the party probably plays the most important role. Here, in ultimately excluding the party from an exclusive role as the single guiding party of the system, Gorbachev delivered a coup de grace to a system that had been deteriorating over at least two decades. As Alexander Dallin points out, although the party grew to a heavily bureaucratized state with deeply entrenched control by the dawn of the Brezhnev era, the stagnation of that era resulted in a fundamental disconnect between the people and the party, made worse by rampant corruption. When the glasnost policy brought all of these problems out into the open, Dallin writes, “all this brought about a remarkable sense of having been lied to, of having been deprived of what the rest of the world had had access to […] a transformation of the Communist Party from the unchallenged clan of privilege to a hollow institution without a rational task other than self-preservations.”[2] With glasnost in place, there could not help but be a vicious cycle of openness evoking party delegitimization evoking more openness, etc. Without the guiding hand of the party over the party state, the state could not but help but dissolve.

Finally, the structural features are most complex of all, involving both the rise of nationalism and the dissolution of totalitarianism. On the former point, a two-faced minorities policy that for decades had preached local self-determination but practiced aggressive Russification could not have helped but fuel nationalism, everything we know about nationalism considered. Regarding the latter point, I found Rasma Karklins’s essay most helpful. As she notes, “If one links the totalitarian model’s assumptions about the significance of the party’s ideological and media monopolies to a dynamic concept of political culture, the erosion of these monopolies reveals itself as even more of a systemic change.”[3] Karklins is clear that the roles of personality, ideology, and institutions are interrelated in her essay, so she bears in mind Gorbachev’s role of instituting democratization “from above” and his dilution of the party’s key role. Overall, I found her analysis to be the most incisive.
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[1] David R. Marples, The Collapse of the Soviet Union 1985-1991 (New York: Routledge, 2015), 103.
[2] Alexander Dallin, “Causes of the Collapse of the Soviet Union,” Post-Soviet Affairs, 8, no. 4 (1992): 298.
[3] Rasma Karklins, “Explaining Regime Change in the Soviet Union,” Europe-Asia Studies, 46, no. 1 (1994): 34.

Brezhnevism or Neo-Stalinism?

4.2.3. Is there such a thing as Brezhnevism? What, if anything, characterises the ideological politics of Brezhnev’s long term in office?

There is such a thing has Brezhnevism, but I don’t think Brezhnevism is the right word to use for it. On the one hand, there certainly was a series of policies and actions undertaken by the Soviet government between 1964 and 1982. On the other hand, whether it is correct to apply Brezhnev’s name to these policies and actions seems to be to rely on the extent to which Brezhnev contributed to these policies or whether they would have been pursued if he had not been the leader of the USSR during this period.

If there is one aspect of Brezhnevism that seems initially indisputable, it is the Brezhnev Doctrine of armed intervention to prevent the overthrow of socialist governments in Eastern Europe. No better example of this doctrine in action exists than the Soviet and Warsaw Pact deployment of tanks to Czechoslovakia to put down the so-called Prague Spring. However, the decision to intervene in Prague does not seem to have been Brezhnev’s call. For instance, in his discussion of the topic, Stephen Hanson mentions not Brezhnev’s concern but Kosygin’s, even as he refers to the consequent doctrine promulgated in the general secretary’s name to be “Brezhnevian orthodoxy.”[1]

The explanation for this focus on Kosygin is given by Richard Sawka, who notes the emphasis during the Brezhnev era on collective leadership. Sawka writes that Brezhnev was “dour and (mindful of his predecessor’s fate) sought to rule by consensus.”[2] Thus, if there was a Brezhnevism, understood as the body of decisions made by the Soviet leadership when Brezhnev was general secretary, it seems unfair to tag this period with his name, despite his status as first among equals with the CPSU leadership.

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[1] Stephen E. Hanson, “The Brezhnev Era,” in Cambridge History of Russia, vol. 3, edited by Roland Suny (New York: Cambridge UP, 2006), 300.
[2] Richard Sawka, The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Union, 1917-1991 (New York: Routledge, 1999), 351.

Was Khrushchevism a Period of De-Stalinization?

4.1.3. It is sometimes suggested that historians ought to swap the term “De-Stalinisation” for Khrushchevism. What do you think? Is there such a thing as ‘Khrushchevism’? Can more insight into the transition from Stalinism be gained by focusing on what was distinctive about the ideological politics of the Khrushchev era?

While I am unsure whether there was such a thing as “Khrushchevism,” I am certain that it is wrong to equate the Khrushchev era with De-Stalinization. The clearest argument against De-Stalinization” under Khrushchev is the re-emergence of Stalinist policies once Khrushchev was removed from office. A closer look at the ideological politics of Khrushchev’s tenure can shed some light on this confusion of terms.

It is tempting to link De-Stalinization with Khrushchev because of the latter’s “secret speech” at the CPSU congress in 1956 and its denunciation of his predecessor’s cult of personality and crimes. However, it ought not be forgotten that Khrushchev was an active participant in these crimes, particularly when he was first secretary in Ukraine during the 1930s. As Miriam Dobson writes, “condemning Stalin and the terror compelled society to rethink the way it understood its own recent, and very bloody, past—and by extension how people were now to relate to their own life stories.”[1] In the case of Khrushchev, such a meditation would require him to review his own personal actions.

Beyond the issue of personal responsibility, Khrushchev also knew that he could not allow the “thaw” that accompanied the speech to become too warm, as doing so would endanger his own position as general secretary and de facto ruler of the country. Quoting Aleksei Adzhubei, William Taubman writes, “Khrushchev sensed the blow had been too powerful, and . . . increasingly he sought to limit the boundaries of critical analysis, lest it end up polarising society.”[2] Taubman links the crushing of the Hungarian uprising to the unwanted effects of greater openness. That Khrushchev chose to crush it rather than take a moderate approach demonstrates the extent to which De-Stalinization was a form of cover that Khrushchev provided himself so that, whatever he did, the crimes of Stalin would appear worse.

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[1] Miriam Dobson, “The Post-Stalin Era: De-Stalinization, Daily Life, and Dissent,” Kritika, 12, no. 4 (2011): 907.
[2] William Taubman, “The Khrushchev Period, 1953-1964,” in Cambridge History of Russia, vol. 3, edited by Roland Suny (New York: Cambridge UP, 2006), 270.

Revisionism in Stalinist Historiography

What are the (relative) advantages of the revisionist interpretations of Stalinism?
I think one of the most important advantages of the a revisionist interpretation of Stalinism is that it becomes easier through one to understand how and why Stalin undertook the mass repressions that he did. For instance, although the “traditional” historians and revisionists both agree that Stalin ordered mass repression, e.g., in the Great Terror, it is only the revisionist version that engages the social science underlying how a dictator who was geographically quite distant from the scenes of actual violence could order murder and actually have it carried out. Some of the “credit,” of course goes to the sequence of secret police chiefs upon whom Stalin relied, but even they ultimately needed to be able to exploit some aspect of the executioners’ situation. Whereas the scholarship on Nazi Germany has considered this sort of question for more than twenty years (i.e., Täterforschung), I had not seen such considerations in the literature on Stalin until I read Arch Getty’s two books on the Great Terror.[1] Having done so, I can see how the expansive bureaucracy of Stalin’s USSR lent itself to the kind of manipulation that, in Germany, culminated in the Holocaust. This to some extent explains the how of Stalin owing to revisionism.

The why is more complex, but again, it is a question I had not seen seriously considered until I read revisionist historians. Here, the emphasis is on going beyond the ascription of mere insanity to Stalin and understanding more completely why he ordered mass violence. Here, although I’m unsure whether she would be correctly identified as a revisionist, given her political conservatism (although I assume she at least relies on revisionists), Anne Applebaum’s essay is helpful in undersatnding the actual political motivations: “[Stalin’s] violence was not the product of his subconscious but of the Bolshevik engagement with Marxist-Leninist ideology.”[2] If we consider Stalin from this vantage, rather than as a crazy person, and if we consider Stalin additionally as building on basic concepts inherited from Lenin, then it becomes much easier to understand his thinking and – perhaps more importantly – the interior logic of that thinking.

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[1] J. Arch Getty and Oleg V. Naumov, The Road to Terror: Stalin and the Self-Destruction of the Bolsheviks, 1932-1939 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale UP, 1999); and J. Arch Getty, Origins of the Great Purges: The Soviet Communist Party Reconsidered, 1933-1938 (New York: Cambridge UP, 1985).
[2] Anne Applebaum, “Understanding Stalin,” The Atlantic, November 2014, available at: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/11/understanding-stalin/380786/

Stalinist Totalitarianism

3.1. Stalin’s regime is an archetype (or model) of totalitarianism. Do you agree?

I don’t think it’s much of a question of whether Stalin’s regime was totalitarian. Rather, I think the dispute that has arisen is not over whether it was totalitarian but rather over how well and accurately the term had been defined before the advent of revisionism. This is a question to which I’ve dedicated quite a bit of thought over the years, but I hope to make my point here without being too verbose. I think there are essentially two points that should be made in justifying Stalin’s archetypal status as a totalitarian dictator: the extent to which totalitarianism can be defined abstractly; and the extent to which it can be distinguished from garden-variety authoritarianism.

On the first point, as I mentioned in class on Thursday, Jan Gross (in Revolution From Abroad) offers an interesting definition of totalitarianism, using Stalin’s regime as a test case. If we consider totalitarianism from the standpoint of the tendency of totalitarian governments to eliminate public, collective forms of action unless it sponsors those forms itself, then, as Gross writes, “it thus appears that the totalitarian state confiscates the private realm.”[1] However, he continues, this is untrue; it is in fact the opposite “because of the privatization of the public realm.”[2] What Gross means is that the Soviets established totalitarian control – at least in its occupation of the Kresy from September 1939 to June 1941, was to make people feel as if participation in public forms of collection action was a way to express private desires, whether it was personal empowerment or settling scores with one’s enemies. Clearly Stalin’s methods in evoking denunciations, e.g., falls under this definition.

On the second point, since it’s unlikely that one would define Stalin as anyone but one or the other (authoritarian or totalitarian), I found an article by Paul C. Sondrol particularly helpful in distinguishing the two terms.[3] Comparison Fidel Castro (totalitarian) to Alfredo Stroessner (the Paraguayan authoritarian dictators), Sondrol suggests seven criteria by which to judge an historical situation: Stalin meets six of these seven (role conception as a function, public ends of power, minimal corruption, official ideology, lack of pluralism, and high legitimacy). Where Stalin seems to have fallen short of one of Sondrol’s criteria is in lacking personal charisma, although as noted by Philip Boobbyer remarks, among others, Stalin is able to form a personality cult by advancing one for Lenin and connecting himself as the nature evolution in the Soviet leadership.[4]

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[1] Jan T. Gross, Revolution From Abroad: The Soviet Conquest of Poland’s Western Ukraine and Western Belorussia (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton UP, 1988), 117, italics in original.
[2] Ibid, italics in original.
[3] Paul C. Sondrol, “Totalitarian and Authoritarian Dictators: A Comparison of Fidel Castro and Alfred Stroessner,” Journal of Latin American Studies, 23, no. 3 (1991): 599-620.
[4] Philip Boobyer, The Stalin Era (London: Routledge, 2000), 15-16.

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