Certain elements of Stalin’s post-war domestic and foreign agendas were closely interrelated. The key imperatives—war avoidance and economic reconstruction—were obviously congruent. The explosion in the labour camp population also served to fulfil several of Stalin’s goals; it mobilized forced labour to rebuild the country and insulated Soviet society from first-hand testimony about the West. And, significantly, Stalin did achieve several key objectives. A robust Soviet economy rose out of the rubble of war; the USSR enhanced its military power. Stalin’s regime made significant investments in military research and development, developed a plan to modernize its military hardware, and broke the American nuclear monopoly by acquiring its own atomic bomb in 1949.
Yet it is also obvious that other components in Stalin’s programme were contradictory. Bellicose rhetoric, if essential to justify the demands on the Soviet population, invalidated both the Soviet peace offensives as well as efforts to confuse the West about Soviet intentions. The same point applies to efforts to control Eastern Europe. Since Stalin’s authority over the foreign communists was at first imperfect, he could not prevent such events as the Greek civil war from frightening Western statesmen. But his own territorial expansion and political terror, used to solidify his power in Eastern Europe, tended to confirm, rather than allay, Western suspicions. The most important contradictions lay in the irreconcilability among Stalin’s domestic and foreign objectives. In 1945 Stalin had expected a rapid American withdrawal from a weakened, squabbling Europe. By 1949, largely because of his own policies, he found himself confronting European states that were reacquiring confidence and repairing the damage of war. NATO was cementing Western unity and the United States had extended an open-ended political commitment to the new alliance. After Stalin authorized the Korean War (partially as a subtle bid to enhance his influence with Mao Tse-tung) that American commitment became much more military.
Stalin’s Last Years
In December 1949 Stalin celebrated his seventieth birthday. It was an occasion of national jubilation. The price of many consumer goods was lowered. Party and state organizations all over the country vied with each other in tendering gifts and extravagant professions of loyalty to the great leader. A special exhibition—‘J. V. Stalin in Representational Art’—opened, featuring scores of paintings and sculptures to glorify every phase of his life. The official review of the exhibition bore the title: ‘An Inexhaustible Source of Creative Inspiration’.
The post-war era was the apogee of Stalin’s cult of personality. Stalin was accorded god-like veneration: he was the hero of plays and the subject of folksongs; symphonies and odes were composed in his honour; canals and dams were dedicated to his name. Statues of gypsum, concrete, granite, and marble were erected in his image. Orators praised him as ‘the father of the peoples’, ‘the coryphaeus of all sciences’, the ‘highest genius of mankind’, and ‘the best friend of all children’. Rapturous enthusiasm greeted his every pronouncement. When he took it into his head to author a treatise on linguistics, learned philologists wrote letters to the newspapers humbly thanking the leader for setting them straight.
However gratifying, universal adulation did not relax Stalin’s vigilant concern for his personal power. In the last years of his reign the tyrant took pains to keep his closest associates in a constant state of poisonous antagonism and mutual suspicion. It is not known whether his motivation was authentic fear of conspiracy, belief in the efficacy of divide et impera, or mere perversity. Immediately after the war, Stalin elevated Zhdanov as a counterweight to Malenkov Upon the former’s death, Stalin permitted Malenkov and the chief of the secret police, Beria, to purge Zhdanov’s old power base in Leningrad on the charge of ‘anti-party activity’. This ‘Leningrad affair’ resulted in the expulsion of two thousand communists from party and state jobs and two hundred executions, including that of N. A. Voznesenskii, a member of the Politburo. Stalin then summoned N. S. Khrushchev from Ukraine to Moscow as a counterweight to Malenkov. As for Beria, the Georgian purges of 1951 exterminated many of his staunchest supporters and political clients.
The most ominous manifestation of Stalin’s mistrust of his subordinates occurred in the very last months of his life. In January 1953 the press announced the arrest of nine physicians for conspiring to assassinate the top Soviet leadership with toxic medical treatments. Anti-Semitism, on the ascent in the USSR since the end of the war, figured prominently in the ‘doctor’s plot’—seven of the accused were Jewish. The ‘plot’, it has been speculated, was the first step in a campaign of terror against Jews. In any event, Stalin most probably instigated the affair of the ‘doctor murderers’ to serve as a pretext for the elimination of Beria, and perhaps other high figures in the regime.
Before any of this could happen, on 5 March 1953 Stalin finally died of a stroke. The official announcement of his passing evoked shock and then grief from millions. The dictator’s body reposed in state within the Kremlin, and columns of mourners paid their last respects. Even as a corpse Stalin brought calamity: five hundred people were trampled to death in Moscow because of poor security on the day of his funeral. Stalin was gone, but Stalinism remained. There would ensue a struggle for the succession. And when this was over, Stalin’s heirs would undertake the reconstruction and reform of the system he had bequeathed them.
13. From Stalinism to Stagnation 1953–1985
GREGORY L. FREEZE
After 1953, as the structural faults became increasingly apparent, Stalin’s successors applied various panaceas to repair or conceal the fissures. But neither the spasmodic reformism of Khrushchev nor the systematic standpattism of Brezhnev had much effect. Despite superpower status abroad and repression at home, by the early 1980s the USSR—like its leadership—was tottering on the verge of collapse.
AFTER decades of personalized tyranny, news of Stalin’s illness had a traumatic impact on the population. Recalling the recent ‘doctors’ plot’ (with transparent anti-Semitic overtones), some contemporaries suspected that ‘the doctors are involved in this. If that is confirmed, then the people will be still more outraged against the Jews.’ Many found the idea of life without the all-knowing Vozhd′ (Leader) unthinkable. Hope of instantaneous justice was gone. As one letter to the Central Committee put it: once Stalin is dead, ‘there won’t be anyone to complain to. If something happens now, people say: “We’ll complain to Comrade Stalin”, but now there won’t be anyone.’
But there was ‘someone’, in fact several of them, all fighting to succeed the Leader. That successor, however, would inherit not only the panoply of power but also the other legacy of Stalinist rule: a host of critical problems. These problems unleashed a torrent of letters to newspapers, government organs, and especially the Central Committee.
The problems were daunting in their complexity and gravity. One was power itself: Stalin himself had so personalized power, leaving the lines of institutional authority so amorphous and confused, that many key organs (even the Central Committee) had atrophied and virtually disappeared. To re-establish regular governance, it was essential to rebuild the institutions of party and state administration. Related to this was another grisly legacy—the victims and survivors of the purge and terror. Apart from posthumous rehabilitation, the most urgent question concerned the two million politicals and common criminals currently in the GULAG and still larger numbers in exile and banishment. Stalin’s heirs also had to resolve critical economic questions—above all, whether to continue Stalin’s one-sided industrialization (which emphasized heavy industry) or to develop agriculture and light industry. The Stalinist model, as one acerbic letter to the Central Committee noted, had produced not communism but ‘deficitism’. N. S. Khrushchev admitted that ‘there is little milk or meat’ and asked: ‘What kind of communism is this if there are no sweets or butter?’ That ‘deficitism’ exacerbated social tensions, for it did not apply to everyone. Stalinist social policy had vigorously combatted ‘levelling’ (uranilovka) in favour of sharp wage differentials and a highly stratified social order, with scarce resources being diverted to political élites and the scientific-technical intelligentsia. A letter to the Central Committee complained bitterly that ‘of late our country has simply forgotten the simple person—the worker, the kolkhoznik. All that the press and radio talk about is the academicians, scholars, agronomists, engineers.’ Another critical domestic issue was minority tensions, especially in the newly annexed territories of the West. As authorities confirmed, ‘in many districts [of western Ukraine] an anti-Soviet nationalist underground still exists and is actively operating as armed bands that commit sabotage, plunder, and terrorize the population and party-Soviet activists’.