To a person who is,
like myself, young enough to have forgotten the Soviet Union, `Stalin' is too
often a mere curse word, some bad but otherwise shapeless thing used mostly for
ominous-sounding references. But to such a person, what could be the value of
understanding the reality of the Stalinshchina?
For
Anton Antonov-Ovseyenko, the need is clear. The epilogue, which is in my
opinion the most valuable part of the book, pulses with disgust at the
treatment of Stalin's victims, officially `rehabilitated' or otherwise, and the
continued grip of Stalinism on the Soviet government. Antonov-Ovseyenko writes
for the Union that still existed at the time of publication, the need for full
acknowledgment of what happened under Stalin. But even after the collapse of
the Soviet Union, this need is still relevant. The massacre at Katyn is a
canonical example: though the Russian government recently admitted Soviet
responsibility, there is still a significant Stalinist contingent in political
and popular Russia - one which continues to claim that the Germans did it. To
many, despite the crushing reality of mishandling and sabotage of the war
effort, Stalin remains the Great Hero of the Great Patriotic War. To many, even
now, Stalin can do no wrong.
But
to Antonov-Ovseyenko, the Gensek - this and `Politburo' are perfect examples of
pre-Orwellian Newspeak - did everything wrong. In a recent speech on the Axis of
Evil, Christopher Hitchens claimed that Saddam added the element of the crime
boss and mafioso to the totalitarianisms of Stalin and Hitler. But actually the
element of thug and criminal is almost the definition of Stalinism. From his
earliest revolutionary activity, the Gensek reeked of the underworld, e.g. the
illegal `expropriations', and might well have been an agent provocateur serving
the Tsarist Okhrana, though this latter suspicion is still contentious. The
remaining contentions, the personal orchestrations of the purges of the Old
Bolsheviks, the forced famine in the Ukraine, the various deportations, ethnic
cleansings, the creation of a Gulag-based economy, and the countless betrayals,
are not.
The
references to Antonov-Ovseyenko's time in the Gulag are limited; the account
focuses overwhelmingly on Stalin's misdeeds and accomplices, and how those
accomplices and misdeeds are relevant to the time of writing. The account also
contains some novel revelations. As Professor Stephen F. Cohen notes in his
introduction, Antonov-Ovseyenko's status as the son of an old Bolshevik - his
father is Vladimir Antonov-Ovseyenko, leader of the Bolshevik charge on the
Winter Palace in 1917 - gained him access to sources unavailable to other
dissident writers, such as Solzhenitsyn. And like Solzhenitsyn,
Antonov-Ovseyenko does not write a dispassionate, detached account. He is a
bitter survivor, angry with the continued defamation of his father and other
victims. And though the book consequently drips with sarcasm at times, it never
devolves into ranting. It chronicles hundreds of tragedies, some famous like
the assassination of Kirov, others not.
But
was Stalin just excessively zealous in his dedication? One of Stalin's many
titles, the "Great Master of Daring Revolutionary Decisions and Abrupt
Turns", was well-earned. The Russo-German Pact and the subsequent
destruction of anti-facists movements is a perfect example. No, he was not
ruthlessly dedicated to principles: he discarded them as needed. Rather, he was
wholly unprincipled. Such `abrupt turns' would lead Orwell to comment on the
instability required of Stalinist mind.
The
Time of Stalin is an excellent read for those who really want to understand
what Stalin and his subordinates actually did. It is for those who are
concerned with understanding totalitarianism.
