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canny contemporary ring. Take | spondents leave the USSR, this |
Muggeridge's observations on the
situation of Western correspond-
ents in Moscow circa 1932:

The Soviet authorities were able to control foreign newsmen almost as rigorously as they did their own. They had perforce to live and work in the USSR under the constant threat of losing their visas. If this happened, their jobs automatically came to an end, which in most cases was something they wished to avoid. Also, any foreigner resident in the USSR was vulnerable, in the sense that just going about and displaying ordinary curiosity, in Soviet terms, laid one open to a plausible charge of espionage. ... Add to this that most foreign correspondents, separated from their wives, acquired a Russian mistress of one sort of another who, if not planted on them by the GPU, was bound to report their doings and transactions. This provided a ready means of exerting pressure on them. Thus, one way and another, they were not free agents, and the messages they sent had to be slanted accordingly.

(It would be unfair to suggest that Western newsmen in Moscow today are as cowed as were so many of their colleagues forty years ago. Indeed, the audacity of numerous correspondents in reporting news unpalatable to the Soviet authorities-for which they are often rewarded by scurrilous attacks in the press and unceremonious expulsions-is beyond question. Yet the methods of exerting pressure have not really changed over the years. Nor are such methods wholly unsuccessful: witness the number of exposés of Soviet life written after corre

eling dons and very special correspondents like Duranty, all resolved come what might to believe anything, however preposterous, to overlook anything, however vil

ever obscurantist and brutally authoritarian, in order to be able to preserve intact the confident ex

despite the abolition of a priori
censorship. At times the fear of
possible reprisals seems to reach
rather absurd proportions. Thus,
the relative absence of any dur-lainous, to approve anything, how-
able romantic liasons today is due
not only to the fact that most West-
ern newsmen in Moscow are now
joined by their wives, but to a per-pectation that one of the most
haps exaggerated respect for the thoroughgoing, ruthless and
power of the KGB. Some years ago bloody tyrannies ever to exist on
a friend of mine, who represented earth could be relied on to cham-
a Western newspaper, decided, in pion human freedom, the brother-
a valorous act of defiance, to take hood of man, and all the other
a Russian mistress; two, in fact. good liberal causes to which they
This struck such horror into the had dedicated their lives.
hearts of his country's embassy
officials that they immediately
asked his employers to recall him
on grounds of incompetence. My
friend is bitter to this day, con-
vinced that had his embassy not
interfered, he would have suc-
ceeded in initiating a new life-style
for Western correspondents in
Russia.)

THE ONE-YEAR SOJOURN in the
Soviet Union was, for Muggeridge,
a searing experience. It produced,
as he puts it, "the total reversal

of everything I had hitherto
hoped for and believed." Looking
back, he decided that it was not
merely a matter of disillusionment,
of a dream punctured by grim
reality. Rather, he felt that for
many years he had been witness to

Stalin is dead, and so is Stalinism. The author's picture of one of "the most thoroughgoing, ruthless and bloody tyrannies ever to exist on earth" thus belongs more rightfully to the past than to the present. What is, however, as relevant today as forty years ago is his condemnation of those who believe that good can be born of evil, or that evil must be accepted in the hope that it may, at some unpredictable date, turn into good.

It is customary, in reviewing a book, to point out some "regrettable" flaws, however minor, and to conclude by noting that despite them, the book is to be warmly recommended. It is true that the reviewer found a few errors—to be precise, five, all of a typographical nature. What or where they are escape memory. So let me proceed directly to the recommendation: Malcolm Muggeridge's two volumes provide a delightful feast for any intellectual palate. And like any good fare, they whet the appetite for more. Let us hope that Volume III of the Chronicles of Wasted Time will soon be in our

... a monumental death-wish, an
immense destructive force loosed
in the world which was going to
sweep over everything and every-
one. ... Wise old Shaw, high-
minded old Barbusse, the vener-
able Webbs, Gide the pure in
heart and Picasso the impure,
down to poor little teachers, crazed
clergymen and millionaires, driv-hands.

Systemic Ills in Soviet Agriculture

By Arthur W. Wright

D. J. MALE: Russian Peasant Organisation before Collectivisation. London, Cambridge University Press, 1971. PETER J. POTICHNYJ: Soviet Agricultural Trade Unions, 1917-1970. Toronto, Canada, University of Toronto Press, 1972. KARL-EUGEN WÄDEKIN: The Private Sector in Soviet Agriculture. Berkeley and Los Angeles, Calif., University of California Press, 1973.

THE ENTIRE HISTORY of Soviet policy toward agriculture is a record of impatience with the constraints imposed on industrialization by peasant agriculture. That impatience led to repeated attempts to ease or circumvent the constraints administratively, from the top down, with a minimal diversion of resources from industry. At best, the record shows only partial or temporary success, followed by frustration and renewed impatience.

Past writers-e.g., Robert Campbell on Soviet planning as a whole and Erich Strauss and Jerzy Karcz on agriculture-have identified a dysfunctional syndrome which explains why administrative solutions to economic problems so frequently result in frustration. This syndrome consists of three parts: (1) an inherent tendency

for administrative measures not to be effective because they try to substitute exhortation for inputs of real resources; (2) a tendency for cadres, responding to incentives signaled by the center, to apply the measures with excessive zeal and in distorted ways; and (3) a tendency, when both the failures and the excesses become apparent to the center, to resort to new administrative measures. Thus, the campaign may "succeed," but the policy fails-and with the next campaign the cycle begins over again.

The administrative syndrome emerges clearly in the three cases of Soviet agricultural policy examined in the books reviewed here. According to Male, Soviet rural policy in the 1920's included a series of attempts, largely unsuccessful, to replace the peasant mir with rural soviets by urging the soviets onward and by harassing the mir. Potichnyj portrays a rural trade union network decreed into existence in 1919, exhorted to accomplish impossible tasks, almost reorganized out of existence in the 1930's, and finally able to gain institutional integrity only after World War II, when the objective conditions became more favorable. Wädekin details how an overreliance on administrative measures led to interdependence

between the collective farms and the private peasant plots, and how in turn administrative measures against the plots detrimentally affected collective agricultural performance. Let us examine each of these cases of goloe administrirovanie (administration by mere injunction) in some detail.

FOLLOWING THE de facto land reform at the end of World War I, many Russian peasants were reorganized into communes similar to the miry of tsarist times.' Like their predecessors, the new postwar communes could serve both administrative and landholding functions (including the repartition of land). Even peasants owning "enclosed" farms not subject to repartition often affiliated with a nearby commune for economic purposes.

The new central government moved quickly to organize a net

1 According to data assembled by Male, the extent of commune organization varied widely from region to region. The main determinant would seem to have been cultural background: for example, Great Russian peasants tended to prefer the commune, while Ukrainians and Central Asians did not. Tentative and not wholly consistent attempts to relate the variation also to the type of land-use and cropping patterns leave the impression that Male could have derived more insight on this question from his data had he formulated a better economic model of peasant

agriculture.

work of rural soviets to take over taxation and other administrative responsibilities from the communes. The rural soviets were slow, however, in developing any effective capacity to govern because of higher-priority claims on party and state organizational resources. Male shows that, in many instances, it was the communes that exercised effective administrative authority in the countryside, because they still controlled the rights to productive land and could raise funds locally where the soviets could not. Continual reshuffling of the structure and tasks of the soviets had the effect of weakening rather than strengthening those bodies, in spite of considerable exhortation from MosCOW.

One tactic in the campaign against the kulaks was to exclude them from participation in the rural soviets; they were not, however, excluded from the communes, even when (at the end of the 1920's) Moscow tried to force them out by legislation. That the communes were stronger than the soviets was interpreted in Moscow -illogically, according to some Soviet writers at the time 2-as evidence of persistent kulak strength and defiance. This interpretation only hardened the determination of the central authorities to restrict the communes, and the

2 These writers held that repartitioning within the commune worked against the kulaks. Male reports evidence of social mobility, in both directions, within the communes, in part because of the effects of land redistribution; however, he also cites evidence that the richer peasants were able to manipulate commune decisions in their favor (e.g., by getting the commune to allocate pasture rights according to the number of cows rather than per household). The plasticity of the definition of a "kulak" in this period is a good example of the administrative syndrome operating at the local level.

years from 1925 to 1930 saw a succession of ever harsher measures limiting communal landholding and the agricultural techniques that private peasants could employ.

Male tacitly adopts the common view that the crash collectivization begun in 1929 grew out of disappointed expectations for the repartitional commune and other private agricultural institutions. In fact, his own tale of the harassment of private peasants from 1925 on is consistent with the position of Karcz and others that mass collectivization began before a systematic attempt had been made to work with private institutions. Thus, the commune was not shown to be inimical to Soviet goals unless one of those goals was the collectivization of agriculture per se and not just the alleged benefits of increased productivity, released labor, and rural savings. The only demonstrated failure was, in fact, one of policy rather than of institutions.

ants to the level of industrial workers and convey the superiority of socialism in productivity and social arrangements. Unfortunately, instead of glorious achievements, the agricultural trade unions yielded at best feeble results until the 1950's.

The beginnings of the agricultural unions were not auspicious. Decreed into existence from on high rather than growing up among the workers, they were from the start regarded with distaste by the rest of the Soviet trade union movement. Moreover, the administrative syndrome operated in classic fashion throughout the 1920's: when the agricultural unions failed to produce the desired results by the prescribed deadline, the union structure was overhauled, outsiders from industrial unions and the party apparat were put in charge, union membership rolls were purged of unsavory elements, and everyone was then exhorted not only to make up for lost time but to make new strides as well. At the same time, the agricultural unions (like the rural soviets) never achieved even a semblance of financial independence, being forced to rely instead on central trade union and party subsidies. As a result, no experience was gained by agricultural union officials, and the unions had little effect on wages and working conconsequently earning scant respect from the rank and file. The outcome was precisely what a good Marxist would predict

IN BRINGING the vast rural areas of the former Russian Empire under their sway, the Bolsheviks faced a monumental task. It was a task made all the bigger by the Bolshevik ideological perspective on the peasants, who were both disdained and seen as hostile to the new government. Professor Potichnyj documents the attempts made by Moscow to use agricul-ditions, tural trade unions to help carry out that task.

Unions of employees in socialist agricultural enterprises, first set up under Bolshevik control in 1919, were viewed as the vanguard of the proletariat in the countryside and as transmission belts from the party and state leadership to the peasants.' They would help uplift the lowly peas

3 Emphasis was also placed on recruiting batraki, or landless peasant laborers, into the unions. The reason for recruiting these people (the least proficient peasant farmers as a rule) was not, of course, to serve as the vanguard of the proletariat but rather to help foment class divisions among the peasantry.

as a consequence of the basic error of voluntarism.

After 1929, the agricultural unions were continually reshaped -by successive reorganizations in 1929-30, 1931, 1932, 1934, 1937, 1939, and 1941!—to assist in mass collectivization. The administrative measures imposed in this period were, however, even less successful than those taken when agriculture was still largely private. By 1935, with the local and middle-level officials stripped of all authority, the agricultural unions were, in Professor Potichnyj's words (p. 67), "so weak that for all practical purposes they ceased to function." No amount of exhortation or further reorganization seemed capable of reviving them.

Nevertheless, the agricultural unions did begin to come into their own after World War II. As Professor Potichnyj shows, however, the reason was not a new administrative structure but rather (again as a Marxist would argue) the emergence of new "objective conditions." The visible weaknesses of Soviet agriculture following the war led to a shift from political to economic objectives in that sector, and the shift in objectives in turn gave the agricultural unions new scope for a useful role. Now, administrative changes changes followed rather than preceded the tasks assigned to the unions, and those tasks were rooted in basic economic functions. Two specific developments-the Virgin Lands campaign launched in 1954 and the dismantling of the state-run machine-tractor stations (MTS), along with the sale of their assets to the collective farms (kolkhozy), in 1958-highlighted the changed role of the unions after 1945.

The Virgin Lands campaign carried with it a large increase in the

state-farm (sovkhoz) labor force and the relocation of many workers to areas of poor working and living conditions. The agricultural trade unions were reorganized and their staffs expanded in prepara-❘ tion for the campaign-once again to act as a transmission belt from the center, but this time with more resources and greater authority than previously. With the resources and authority, the unions were both willing and able to exercise the functions vested in them, including communication of workers' complaints and negotiation of remedial measures.

The MTS reorganization enhanced the role of the agricultural unions as representatives of the workers' interests. On the one hand, the sizable bloc of agricultural workers transferred from state enterprises to the cooperative structure of the kolkhozy were understandably concerned to retain their rights to the benefits (such as social insurance) associated with union membership. On the other hand, the central leadership was not eager to have large union locals within the kolkhozy, whose members were still cooperants and not yet full-fledged workers. The agricultural trade unions were able to parlay the center's strong desire to effect the MTS reorganization and yet also hold the skilled MTS labor force in the countryside into measures protecting the workers' union status and benefit rights.

Professor Potichnyj concludes, quite persuasively, that by the 1960's Soviet agricultural trade unions had evolved from a mere "channel of direction and control from above" (and an ineffectual channel at that) into an institution capable of serving as a "conduit for communication and pressure from below" (p. 128). Even though

the book is somewhat overburdened with factual detail and strings of numbers and the descriptive material at times overshadows the analytical, it is a work to which specialists on Soviet trade unions and economic administration will wish to have access.

PERHAPS THE MOST striking example of the administrative syndrome in Soviet agriculture involves the relationship between individual private plots and the socialist sector. It is Professor Wädekin's thesis that the kolkhoz economy is a symbiosis, not merely a coexistence, of collective and private farming. As with the lichen, in which the alga provides food for the fungus but depends on the fungus for water, the collective farms provide fodder and other inputs for the peasants' private plots but depend on the plots to produce livestock and laborintensive crops. Moreover, the income from the plots is a not insignificant supplement to the low real incomes the peasants earn from collective work. Wädekin carefully and clearly documents his thesis in a book which will be a standard reference work on the subject, in the same class with Moshe Lewin's major study of the decision to collectivize."

• Wädekin presents data showing that the entire private sector includes more than just the plots of kolkhozniki. He estimates that about 40 percent of total private agricultural output originates outside the collective sphere, primarily on the plots of sovkhozniki and urban dwellers. We shall focus here on the kolkhoz economy, although the analysis applies with some modification to the rest of Soviet private agriculture.

5 Wädekin's book is an enlarged and revised version of an earlier work published in German; the German edition contains numerous data and calculations cited as the basis of arguments advanced in the English version but not printed there. The translation by Keith Bush is excellent.

The close interdependence between private and collective agriculture was the direct outgrowth of factors typical of the administrative syndrome in Soviet agriculture: (1) under investment in collective farming; (2) defects in the kolkhoz as an economic institution; (3) repeated shifts and turns in the policy measures and constraints within which the kolkhoz operates in the wider Soviet economy; and (4) substandard living conditions in rural areas. Together, these factors imply that Soviet collective farming cannot by itself produce and market the products (especially food) expected of it by the central authorities.

The other side of the coin is that the collectives do not provide their members with real incomes high enough to make them willing to give up their private plots or, if the plots are heavily restricted, to keep them from leaving agriculture before the collectives can take up the slack.

Whether the leadership likes it or not, therefore, the individual peasant plots are an organic part of the kolkhoz economy. To return to the metaphor of the lichen, the fungus may be repulsive, but the alga cannot live without it. The plots thrive in the interstices left by collective farming and the state food-distribution network-for example, where state procurement prices are set below kolkhoz unit costs, and where the nonfarm population is unable to purchase food of acceptable quality, in the quantities desired, in the state stores. The plots provide employment to the young and elderly members of peasant families, as well as to able-bodied kolkhozniki when they are not engaged in collective work. (For 1964, Wädekin cites an average figure of 84 idle work days out

of a possible 296 for the latter
group.) When restrictions on the
plots are tightened without im-
provement in collective incomes,
the peasants respond by devoting
more labor time to their plots.

Khrushchev went as follows: (1) surprise at the vigor of the peasants' response to the relaxation that followed Stalin's death; (2) overestimation of a true collective productive capacity in the long

conditions might recur); (3) ad-
ministrative excesses, in the form
of tighter restrictions on private-
plot production in order to attain
targeted ratios of collective to
private output when collective
performance fell below target;
(4) disaster as a result of these
excesses; and (5) a new relaxa-
tion of restrictions on the plots
(accompanied by the removal of
Khrushchev, partly because of
agricultural failure).

On the output side, the collec-run (i.e., when unfavorable weather tives tend to specialize in land- and capital-intensive crops (e.g., grain and industrial crops) and in largescale animal husbandry. The kolkhoznik families, for their part, tend to specialize in to specialize in labor-intensive crops (e.g., vegetables and fruits), in small-scale animal husbandry, and in the production of milk, eggs, and poultry products. The incentives to specialize are so strong that when the center attempts to suppress the plots by withholding fodder and hay from the kolkhozniki, for instance, the latter respond not by shifting out of livestock activities but by resorting to other means, fair or foul, to acquire the needed inputs. Wädekin stresses that while the specialization benefits both the kolkhozy and the peasants, it is not the same pattern of specialization that would emerge if relative costs were the sole criterion. The reason, of course, is the numerous restrictions intended to proscribe private farming and contain it within tolerable limits: restrictions on the maximum size of plots, on permissible outputs, on the hiring of capital goods and extra labor, on the minimum time to be worked on the collective, and on selling prices in the so-called kolkhoz markets.

Wädekin demonstrates that the fluctuations in policy toward the private plots cannot be explained by variations in the ideological climate, which has been relatively stable. Rather, the policy fluctuations are a classic paradigm of the administrative syndrome. The cycle that occurred under Nikita

The fallacy of Khrushchev's policy was that the repression of private agriculture before the collective farms were capable of making up the resulting reduction in output could only hurt the collective sector. Moves against the kolkhoz markets, ostensibly to protect the people from "speculative" prices, only drove prices higher and thus increased incentives to "speculate." Forcing the peasants to sell cattle to kolkhozy (unprepared to care for them) only guaranteed above-plan meat deliveries for that year, not the intended increase in breeding stock. In the familiar pattern, these administrative measures appeared to work on the surface, but the policy underlying them failed.

THE CLEAR IMPLICATION of Wädekin's analysis is that one way, perhaps the best way, to

6 Unwarranted optimism was undoubtedly one factor here, but Wädekin argues that a second factor was simply poor information at the center on collective productivity and especially on resources in the private sector and how this sector would react to different policy measures.

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