One noteworthy portion of the collection consists of works—thirty in all—by Russian and foreign theoreticians of the Social Democratic movement, as well as prominent Bolsheviks: Aleksandr Bogdanov, Georgy Plekhanov, Bukharin, Karl Kautsky, and Trotsky, among others. Stalin also appears to have closely studied the nineteen issues of the prerevolutionary underground Bolshevik theoretical journal Prosveshchenie (Enlightenment) kept in his library. The rest of the items in which he made notations largely consisted of propagandistic and educational literature written while he was in power, twenty-five of which he wrote himself. Overall, the classics of Marxism-Leninism (including his own works) and works by their propagandists comprise the vast majority of the nearly four hundred books in which Stalin made notations.
Among the remaining books, one category that deserves mention is historical works, including several courses on Russian history published before the revolution. Stalin loved history and constantly used historical examples and analogies in his articles, speeches, and conversation. He arranged for new history textbooks to be written and encouraged the production of numerous historical books and films. As is well known, he felt a particular affinity for two Russian tsars: Peter the Great and Ivan the Terrible. They consolidated and enlarged Russia, built up its military might, and fought mercilessly against internal enemies. For Stalin, history was a means of legitimizing his own policies. He was not particularly interested in scholarly discussions and actual historical evidence, choosing instead to adapt the facts to his preferred narrative. Ivan the Terrible was proclaimed a stalwart defender against the forces pulling Russia apart, saving it from a second Tatar yoke. His brutal repression, as Stalin saw it, was necessary, and if anything, it did not go far enough: “It should have been done even more decisively.” During the Cold War, Stalin praised Tsar Ivan for adopting “a national perspective and not allowing foreigners into his country, shielding the country from the intrusion of foreign influence.” He condemned his otherwise beloved Peter the Great for taking a liberal attitude toward foreigners.8 Even more, he molded Soviet history to justify his own policies. The falsification and rewriting of the party’s history culminated in the creation of an ideological bible of the regime produced with Stalin’s active participation, the History of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks): Short Course. Appearing in 1938, at the height of the Great Terror, this work proclaimed Stalin to be equal to Lenin as a leader of Bolshevism and the revolution. Utter fictions were inserted into many episodes of Bolshevik history; other episodes were distorted beyond recognition. The opposition leaders, who had by then been killed, were portrayed as inveterate enemies.
Military problems particularly attracted Stalin’s interest. In addition to books of military regulations, he made notations in several books on the history and theory of war, such as works by the Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz and the Russian theorist Aleksandr Svechin.
The few books of non-Marxist philosophy contained in the collection include Plato and a philosophical treatise by Anatole France, The Last Pages: Dialogues under the Rose. The small number of books on economics is dominated by Soviet works on political economics. As for literary fiction, the collection contains only a few literary journals and works by Lev Tolstoy (the novel Resurrection), Mikhail Saltykov-Shchedrin, Maxim Gorky, and a few Soviet writers.9
Of course this particular collection does not tell the whole story. We know from other sources that Stalin often read literature by contemporary Soviet authors. He offered advice on plays and screenplays and made decisions about the awarding of prizes. He had his likes and dislikes, and the latter, however talented, were often targeted for repression. Even Soviet literary lions faced ideological tongue-lashings. All were made aware of their vulnerability and utter dependence on the government’s favor. Yet despite his politically slanted tastes, Stalin did have a certain ability to distinguish good writing from bad. Perhaps this is why he tolerated and even protected certain talented writers who were not helpful or were even harmful to the regime, such as Mikhail Bulgakov.10 Still, the censors kept such writers on meager rations, just barely surviving and under constant threat of arrest. Literature and dramaturgy interested the dictator primarily as ideological tools, a means of social manipulation and brainwashing. Officially permitted writers were part of the state’s vast propaganda apparatus. Amalgamated into state corporations, writers, artists, and composers were completely dependent on the state. Like state-run factories, these corporations were not very effective. They encouraged bureaucratization and mediocrity and suffocated talent. “The time is long overdue for us to focus attention on … the irresponsible activities of the three thousand people brought together by the Writers’ Union, out of which two thousand—at least—hardly belong in literature,” Maxim Gorky, Stalin’s choice to lead Soviet writers, lamented in a 1936 letter.11
Stalin knew of Gorky’s feelings (he kept this letter in his personal files), but he was hardly troubled by literary mediocrity. He lived and breathed political power, so works of art and literature were to be judged according to their ideological and propagandistic usefulness. “Simplicity” and “accessibility” were key literary virtues. He welcomed readability and straightforward political edification free of highbrow devices. The “creative intelligentsia” was called on to depict a reality that was idealized (“correct,” “socialist”) rather than objective. It was to bring to the masses not that which was but that which should be, while distracting them from hardships and extolling the virtue of placing the party and the state above self-interest.
The record of conversations that took place during screenings in the Kremlin movie theater offers an interesting window onto Stalin’s taste.12 He critiqued the films shown exclusively from the standpoint of political utility, which, he believed, called for the production of edifying and entertaining films “that are exciting, cheerful, and fun.” “Just don’t drive everyone into depression, into a labyrinth of psychology. There’s no need for people to engage in pointless philosophizing,” he said during one screening. He fully approved of the rollicking musical Jolly Fellows, the Soviet answer to Hollywood comedies. The film was not profound and politically pointed, but, as Stalin put it, it gave people “interesting and engaging relaxation.” His running commentaries treated what was happening on screen as if it were real life. A few favorites were viewed over and over. Chapaev, about the Civil War hero of that name, for example, was viewed thirty-eight times between late 1934 and early 1936.
Stalin’s taste in theater and music were equally conservative. He condemned the stage director Vsevolod Meyerhold, known for provocative experimentation, for “clownishness” and “gimcrackery.”13 The vozhd himself initiated a campaign against new musical forms, such as those being created by the great composer Dmitry Shostakovich.14 Such innovations were given the derogatory term “formalism.” A regular theatergoer, Stalin preferred classical drama, opera, and ballet. Countless official receptions at the Kremlin were accompanied by concerts featuring a strictly traditional repertoire.15
There may have been a relationship between Stalin’s literary tastes and his manner of writing. It has often been noted that he was not a gifted orator, a judgment that can easily be confirmed by listening to recordings of his speeches. But his written texts are much more coherent than his impromptu speeches. As a writer, he strove for a clarity and conciseness that bordered on oversimplification. He liked to drive a point home through numerous repetitions, as if he were hammering an idea into his audience’s heads. Lacking the gift (possessed by many other Bolsheviks and writers) for brilliant public speaking, Stalin simply ignored this art. His texts are dull but easily understood. He was a master of slogans and clichés. In a society where education was achieving breadth but not depth, especially in the humanities, such a public speaking style was rather effective.