A Study of Bolshevism

By Nathan Leites

A massive effort to determine the objectives and techniques of Soviet communism by intensive examination of all the works of Lenin and Stalin.

“In this book I shall attempt to portray the spirit of the Bolshevik elite—the elite which in 1903 had a dominant influence on a few hundred members of the Russian Social-Democratic Workers’ Party, and today influences several hundred million people in Europe, Asia and elsewhere.

In doing so, I have a two-fold objective: to contribute to our knowledge of the varieties of man; and to enhance the skill of Western policy-makers in dealing with the Politburos of the Soviet and other Communist parties.

There are various ways to study the spirit of a ruling group. Here I have chosen just one: the analysis of its doctrine. It is conceivable that future researches will show other procedures to be equally, or more, productive.

I do not propose to analyze Bolshevik doctrine as fully as possible, but rather to take one aspect of it: what I call the operational code, that is, the conceptions of political “strategy.” Future research may deal in a comparable manner with other aspects of Bolshevik ideology. We cannot now prejudge the relation, and relevance, of the results to be obtained by such different foci of study.” - Author’s introduction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barakaldo Books
• Release date: May 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781839747267

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A STUDY OF BOLSHEVISM

BY

NATHAN LEITES

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 5

Acknowledgments 6

Introduction 8

Prologue: The Politburo and the West 22

Politics Is A War 22

Push to The Limit 25

It Pays To Be Rude 29

The Controlled Neighbor Policy 35

There Are No Neutrals 36

Revolution By Army 38

Do Not Yield To Provocation 39

Avoid Adventures 41

Know When To Stop 45

Ward Off Penetration 45

Resist From The Start 47

Retreat Before Superior Force 48

War By Negotiation 51

PART I—Visions 55

CHAPTER I—The Range and Limits of Prediction 55

1—The Denial of Accidents 55

2—The Denial of Freedom of Conduct 63

3—Unpredictable Aspects of the Future 67

4—Transforming Opportunities into Realities 67

CHAPTER II—Orientation on the Past and Towards the Future 67

1—Guidance from Party History 67

2—The Aversion to the Past 67

CHAPTER III—Ends and Means 67

1—The Implicitness of Bolshevik Ethics 67

2—Maximizing the Power of the Party 67

3—The Present as a Means Only 67

4—The Irrelevance of Personal Morality 67

5—The Irrelevance of Appearing Revolutionary 67

6—The Irrelevance of Truth 67

7—The Danger of Worshipping Means 67

8—Utilizing Everything 67

9—Personal Salvation by Dedication to the Party 67

PART II—Action 67

CHAPTER IV—Precision and Realism 67

1—The Correctness of the Party Line 67

2—The Danger of Carelessness 67

3—The Danger of Vagueness 67

4—The Danger of Breaking With Reality 67

5—The Party’s Monopoly of Foresight 67

CHAPTER V—The Control of Feelings 67

1—Varieties of Control Over Feelings 67

2—The Danger of the Intrusion of Feelings into the Line 67

3—The Danger of Sensitivity 67

4—The Danger of Excitement 67

5—The Danger of Emotional Incontinence 67

CHAPTER VI—Through to Action 67

1—The Danger of Stopping Short of Action 67

2—The Danger of Merely Yearning 67

3—The Danger of Merely Talking 67

4—The Danger of Procrastination 67

CHAPTER VII—Persistence and Flexibility 67

1—The Danger of Instability 67

2—The Danger of Betrayal 67

3—The Danger of Swings in Mood and Activity 67

4—The Danger of Doctrinairism 67

CHAPTER VIII—To the Limits of Strength and Skill 67

1—The Danger of Inactivity 67

2—The Danger of Inefficiency 67

3—The Danger of Incorrectness 67

CHAPTER IX—Concentration 67

1—The Main Link 67

2—The Next Step 67

PART III—Techniques 67

CHAPTER X—The Monolith 67

1—The Perfection of the Party 67

2—The Danger of Insufficient Organization 67

3—The Danger of Breaking Discipline 67

4—The Primacy of Leadership 67

CHAPTER XI—Separation and Contact 67

1—The Danger of Blurred Boundaries 67

2—The Danger of Being Penetrated 67

3—The Danger of Isolation 67

CHAPTER XII—Independence 67

1—The Danger of Dependence 67

2—The Utilization of the Unreliable 67

3—The Toleration of Being Hated 67

4—The Danger of Being Controlled 67

5—The Danger of Being Provoked 67

CHAPTER XIII—Deception 67

1—The Danger of Being Deceived 67

2—The Defense Against Being Deceived 67

3—How Far Can the Enemy Be Deceived? 67

CHAPTER XIV—Violence 67

1—The Requirement of Violence 67

2—The High Cost of Communism 67

3—How Effective Is Violence? 67

CHAPTER XV—Propaganda 67

1—The Danger of Being Unintelligible 67

2—The Danger of Being Abstract 67

3—The Danger of Spreading the Enemy’s Beliefs 67

4—The Dangers of Lagging Behind and Running Ahead 67

PART IV—Situations 67

CHAPTER XVI—Enemies 67

1—The Party and the Bourgeoisie Contrasted With the Petty Bourgeoisie 67

2—The World against the Party 67

3—Utilizing and Sharpening Conflicts Between Enemies 67

CHAPTER XVII—The Fear of Annihilation 67

1—A War of Annihilation 67

2—The Incessant Danger of Attack 67

3—The Uncertainty of Survival Before Victory 67

CHAPTER XVIII—Resistance and Assault 67

1—The Danger of Yielding 67

2—Who—Whom? 67

3—The Principle of Pursuit 67

4—Principiis Obsta 67

5—Enemies Cannot Be Persuaded 67

6—The Profits of Pressure 67

CHAPTER XIX—Retreat 67

1—The Expectation of Setbacks 67

2—Facing Setbacks 67

3—The Danger of Distress about Setbacks 67

4—Retreat to Avoid Annihilation 67

5—Retreat to Avoid Futile Loss 67

6—The Legitimacy of Retreat 67

7—From Retreat to Advance 67

8—The Danger of a Vicious Circle of Retreats 67

CHAPTER XX—Advance 67

1—Through Struggle Only 67

2—Pushing to the Limits 67

3—Intermissions in Advancing 67

4—The Danger of Excessive Advance 67

5—The Danger of Insufficient Advance 67

CHAPTER XXI—Agreements 67

1—The Legitimacy of Agreements 67

2—Conditions of Agreement 67

3—Quid Pro Quo 67

4—From Agreement to Overt Conflict 67

Epilogue—From Lenin to Malenkov 67

Bibliography 67

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 67

DEDICATION

for Martha Wolfenstein

Acknowledgments

I owe much to conversations with Elsa Bernaut, Margaret Mead, Hans Speier and Martha Wolfenstein; to discussions in the Project, Research in Contemporary Cultures at Columbia University and in the Project, Studies in Soviet Culture at the American Museum of Natural History; and to collaboration with my colleagues on the staff of The RAND Corporation.

I received many important criticisms and suggestions from readers of earlier drafts: Bernard Brodie, Herbert Dinerstein, Herbert Goldhamer, Joseph Goldsen, Leon Goure, Victor Hunt, Harold Lasswell, Ithiel Pool, Edward Shils, Martha Wolfenstein.

The study was a part of the research program undertaken by The RAND Corporation for the United States Air Force. A brief summary of the study was published as The Operational Code of the Politburo, McGraw-Hill, New York, 1951.

Much of the psychoanalytic awareness, without which I could not have written this study, I owe to Rudolph Loewenstein and Martha Wolfenstein.

NATHAN LEITES

Washington, D.C.

January 20, 1953

Both Vladimir Ilyich [Lenin] and Alexander Ilyich (his brother] were...chess enthusiasts from childhood. Their father also played, ‘At first father used to win,’ Vladimir Ilyich related to me. Then my brother and I got hold of a chess manual and began to beat father. Once—when our room was upstairs—we met father coming out of the room with a candle in his hand and the manual under his arm. Then he went to study it.’

(From the memoirs of Lenin’s wife)

Darling mother, I send much love from Naples, I arrived here by steamer from Marseilles’ cheap and pleasant. It was like travelling down the Volga.

(A postcard of Lenin to his mother, August 1, 1910)

It would be to our great disadvantage if our neighbors were to perceive us more minutely and from a shorter distance. In the fact that, so far, they have understood nothing about us, lay our great strength. But the point is, that at present, it seems, alas, that they are beginning to comprehend us better than heretofore: this is very dangerous.

(Dostoevsky: The Diary of a Writer)

Introduction

In this book I shall attempt to portray the spirit of the Bolshevik elite—the elite which in 1903 had a dominant influence on a few hundred members of the Russian Social-Democratic Workers’ Party, and today influences several hundred million people in Europe, Asia and elsewhere.

In doing so, I have a two-fold objective: to contribute to our knowledge of the varieties of man; and to enhance the skill of Western policy-makers in dealing with the Politburos of the Soviet and other Communist parties.{1}{2}{3}

There are various ways to study the spirit of a ruling group. Here I have chosen just one: the analysis of its doctrine. It is conceivable that future researches will show other procedures to be equally, or more, productive.

I do not propose to analyze Bolshevik doctrine as fully as possible, but rather to take one aspect of it: what I call the operational code, that is, the conceptions of political strategy. Future research may deal in a comparable manner with other aspects of Bolshevik ideology. We cannot now prejudge the relation, and relevance, of the results to be obtained by such different foci of study.

Yet, further, I do not attempt to interpret as large a sample as might be feasible of Bolshevik discussions relevant to their operational code, I have, rather, concentrated on an intensive analysis of the entire recorded verbal production of Lenin and Stalin. Thereby I do not mean to imply that there are no differences between their codes—there are many significant divergencies between them which I shall discuss. Nor do I mean to affirm that the statements of other Bolshevik leaders are less relevant; they, too, will have to be studied, and the results may well qualify or invalidate hypotheses presented here; or they may bear them out, or qualify them only little.

There are some further limitations on the scope of this book. I shall not attempt, systematically, to discover the complex of conditions which made for the adoption by the Bolshevik elite of the operational code I shall describe, and for the changes it has undergone. Thus I shall not be interested in the ideological derivation of various elements of the code. Those who know Marxism will notice that certain components of the Bolshevik code are generally Marxist; and those who know other variants of Russian Marxism will notice that certain components are generally Russian Marxist. This is important; but not for my present purpose.

Also, I shall not try to assess the degree of realism of the beliefs about politics which make up the code. (I believe that such a study would, not surprisingly, show that in most instances the code is neither entirely realistic nor utterly fantastic.) And I shall not strive to assess the exact influence of the code on Bolshevik policy-making, its successes and failures.

It is often believed that if a social scientist attempts to sketch a portrait of a certain group, he is bound to affirm that the countenance of that group is in all respects unique. Such an affirmation would be obviously false; and I do not see why it should be required. It would be often easy, and always possible, to find a non-Bolshevik replica of every element in the Bolshevik doctrine I shall be delineating, (Although in such cases the Bolshevik emphasis might be different from the non-Bolshevik one.) That is both obvious and irrelevant. For it will be difficult, if not impossible, to find a non-Bolshevik replica of the entire constellation of elements which is Bolshevik doctrine. While it is possible to find doctrines similar to it, this does not invalidate the aim I have set myself, as long as these doctrines together with Bolshevism form a distinct class. Thus it might be useful—for the establishment of certain propositions—to view Bolshevik doctrine as a member of the class of totalitarian doctrines.{4}

This book shows, I believe, that the study of the Bolshevik operational code is a relevant avenue to the delineation of the Bolshevik spirit. This is not surprising: politics is central in the life of a Bolshevik leader. He does not participate in politics as in one activity of a multi-dimensional life; he lives to conduct politics. Feeling and thinking about politics expresses (though he may not know it) his major emotions, his central fantasies. These I shall try to depict.

But is this study important in making Politburo behavior more predictable in 1953 and the years to follow? The study is, I believe, relevant for this purpose too, though there are definite limits to its value in this respect.

It is practically certain—though full proof is not available—that the Bolshevik doctrine of political strategy influences to a significant extent Bolshevik decisions. This, I believe, could be shown in a history of Bolshevik policies written with reference to the operational code as I shall attempt to construct it. Such a history has not yet been written.

That the operational code of Bolshevism does have such an influence is connected with the fact that it is a major component of the sacred texts of contemporary Bolshevism (the texts studied in this book)—the words of Lenin and Stalin. These texts—largely produced before the late twenties when public Bolshevik doctrine veered from unusual frankness about manipulation to unusual taciturnity and deceptiveness—are concerned primarily with the strategy and tactics of attaining socialism-communism, and very little with its virtues, which are taken for granted (cf. Ch. III, Sect. I). Most, perhaps all, of the members of the present Politburo started their careers as sincere devotees of their secular religion. It is possible that their religious fervor has declined with time, but it would probably be wrong to regard them as devoid of faith. While I do not assume that volumes of Lenin’s and Stalin’s collected works are constantly being opened on the table of the Politburo, it seems reasonable to believe that much of their content has been well assimilated.{5}

Still, the Bolshevik code as presented below is of course very far from being sufficient to predict Politburo behavior in every given situation. You cannot predict the score in a game from its rules; nor can you predict it without knowing the rules—though in the game of politics each player (who, of course, makes up his own rules) may violate the rules without the game coming to an end.

In addition, various factors peculiar to the Bolshevik code and its reconstruction place further limits on its use for prediction.

1. How can we know to what extent a stated or implied item of Bolshevik doctrine is meant seriously, or is merely propaganda? (Presumably it is often both; but that need not disturb us.) The most conclusive answer to this question—though it may not give us certainty—would come from comparing code with acts. I hope this will be done in future research. That it is not done in this study introduces a pervasive factor of uncertainty which I shall stress at this point rather than repeat throughout. However, there is substantial evidence that the Bolshevik leaders in the first two decades of this century as well as the third, recorded with considerably (though not total) frankness their genuine beliefs on the mechanics of politics. I have attempted in the case of every Bolshevik record used to satisfy myself, on one ground or another (usually not made explicit by me for reasons of space) that the assumption of at least partial sincerity is justifiable.

2. The Bolshevik code is highly ambiguous. As we shall see, Bolshevik rules require either a maximum degree of a certain land of conduct, without specifying a criterion; or, more frequently, a middle course between two extremes,{6} again without defining this further. In the latter case{7} the correct position is a pin-point between the abysses of too much and too little.{8}

3. The Bolshevik code is highly inconsistent, i.e., it contains numerous unadmittedly contradictory statements, many (though by no means all) of these contradictions are noted below.{9} As is frequently the case, the unbeliever finds it easier to detect such flaws than the believer. In addition, the Party has never allowed a detached analysis, or even an attempt at codification, of its ideology by its theoreticians. Besides, the Bolshevik operational code is, to a considerable extent, presented merely by implication; that is, habitual ways of thinking are applied to particular situations without being clearly stated in general form. Thus it was possible, for instance, to convey—at different moments—the contention that Party control can be assured by occupying the commanding heights in a certain sphere; and, on the other hand, that the destruction of every remnant of the enemy would make such control safe (cf. Ch. XVIII, Sect. 3). There was no indication of the conditions under which the one or the other of these beliefs was thought to be valid.

4. The Bolshevik code is incomplete; it is far from affirming rules of conduct for all important occasions and on all important matters.

In view of these various facts it could be asked whether the code does anything more than provide a language in which all conceivable calculations and decisions can be couched. This, however, would be an exaggeration. As we shall see below, there are many important calculations which the code excludes; e.g., the belief in the possibility of a settlement with outside groups, in the Western meaning of this term.

But even if it is admitted that the Bolshevik doctrine of political strategy has some influence on Bolshevik decision-making, it might be asked how one could ascertain what this doctrine is at present. Has the Politburo not steadily widened the divergence between esoteric and exoteric views? Has it not reached a degree of taciturnity and hypocrisy unusual for contemporary governments? Would it not be unrealistic to assume that a code constructed largely from statements made in the first three decades of the century in any way applies to the Politburo of 1952? It is true that during the earlier decades Bolshevik leaders elaborated the problems of manipulation with a frankness that was as unusual as their later secretiveness; but should we not resist the temptation of conferring a contemporary relevance on these statements? Would this not imply an assumption of the persistence of old Bolshevism in those who have killed the old Bolsheviks?

We can of course take it for granted that the conception of politics entertained by the present Politburo is not the same as that entertained a quarter of a century ago (1927 was, indeed, in various ways a crucial year). These twenty-five years have been, for the Politburo, a far from static period—both in terms of events and of personnel. An inspection of Bolshevik top-level statements to the public, or later made public, shows that many early points on strategy and tactics have dropped out; and there is abundant evidence that many of the points which have remained public, or have newly emerged, are largely hypocritical. I do not assume at any point that Bolshevism does not change. I do not believe that Lenin and Stalin—and the phases of Bolshevik history dominated by them—are identical, or that this is true of Stalin and Malenkov. I shall attempt to point to trends in Bolshevism in the body of this study, and review them in the conclusion.

But I do believe that there has been a significant measure of continuity in Bolshevism from 1903 to 1952; I shall try to render this hypothesis more probable in this study, without being able to prove it fully here. To me it seems likely that the Politburo is even more strongly bound to its earlier system of operation than to its earlier conception of a communist society. This seemed—to mention some of the evidence to which one might point—to appear in the letters (highly classified when they were written) addressed by the Moscow Politburo in 1948 to its Belgrade counterpart, which showed little variation from earlier patterns of argumentation. Likewise, the themes developed in the trials, in 1949, of Laszlo Rajk and Traicho Rostov were very similar to those of the so-called Moscow trials in the thirties (particularly to the last trial of March 1938), which probably indicates the persistence of certain conceptions determining these public themes.{10}

What are some of the factors which may account for the conservatism of the Politburo with regard to operational doctrine?

First, as I said above, this doctrine is a central part of Bolshevik dogma. Whatever the Bolshevik belief in Bolshevik empiricism, by faith Bolshevik faith disposes its devotees to continue to believe in the empirical correctness of this dogma.

Second, it is an article of this dogma—as we shall see below—that it is appropriate to explain current events in terms of Party history; preferably, early Party history. Hence there is a tendency to deal with these events by applying the rules evolved then.

Third, it is likely that the Politburo considers the record of the Party to be largely one of success; and that a considerable part of this success is attributed to the use of correct rules of strategy evolved early in the history of the Party; these rules, therefore, should continue to be followed. In 1920, Lenin said:

There can be no question but that we have learnt politics; we cannot be misled here; here we have a basis. (Report to the 8th Soviet Congress, December 22, 1920){11}

Fourth, it is probable that in some respects the Bolshevik leadership does not feel that the great increase in its power since 1903 has radically changed its position. As I shall attempt to show, a basic belief of Bolshevism is this: as long as the Party has not won total victory (that is, victory on a world scale), it is always threatened by annihilation. In 1903 annihilation may seem to threaten from Plekhanov’s capitulation to Martov, Potresov, Axelrod and Sasulich, which deprived Lenin of power in the editorial board of the Party’s central organ, Iskra; in 1952 annihilation may seem to threaten from the Strategic Air Command of the United States Air Force. It is always annihilation. Hence, the fact that the Politburo controls perhaps eight hundred million people does not seem to render inapplicable rules evolved when its predecessors controlled eight hundred or eight thousand people.

Some of the aspects of the operational doctrine of Bolshevism which I have just discussed not only raise doubts as to its contemporary relevance, but also make analysis cumbersome.

This doctrine is, as I have noted, partially implicit. Many rules are merely conveyed by being applied to particular situations; in this study I attempt to articulate them too. The situations, however, for which these implicit rules appear, are for many readers who are not specialists in Bolshevik history uninteresting and obscure. Explicitly stated Bolshevik points are also usually embedded in passages which are of this character. Thus readers may find themselves unfamiliar with many of the persons and events mentioned in the statements quoted in this study. What is important, however, is not that the details by which a general point is expressed are unfamiliar, but that the point itself can be understood also by those who are not acquainted with the historical incidents involved.

Sometimes I illustrate a certain Bolshevik belief by a long and obscure statement which seems to deal with something quite different. This is, however, inevitable, in view of what I have said about the characteristics of Bolshevik doctrine: an important point may not be consciously stressed; it may be incidentally conveyed with little awareness of its presence.

What degree of confirmation shall I be able to offer for the statements typically made in this study?{12}

A typical statement to be made has—to put it very precisely—the following form: The belief B is a belief of the Bolshevik elite. This means, spelled out: The belief B has been strongly held during much of the history of the Bolshevik elite by many of its members. To make this proposition testable, strongly, much and many would have to be defined by the indication of critical degrees and frequencies. Such a characteristic statement thus admits exceptions; it affirms the dominance, but not the exclusiveness, of a certain belief in Bolshevism. This must always be understood, even where, for the sake of brevity, it is not explicitly repeated.

To be fully confirmed, then, such a statement would require not only verification in records left by Bolshevik leaders, but also ample records of observation by spectators, participant observers and interviewers (to use H. D. Lasswell’s classifications). Actually, we have only very few and very unreliable records of such observations. Strictly speaking, therefore, it is now too late for the typical statement made in this study ever to be fully confirmed.

Of course, the records available on Bolshevik leaders may be sufficient to refute such a statement; and by their full utilization one might often attain a high level of confirmation. By full utilization I mean the application to this material of procedures now usually called content analysis—roughly speaking, the establishment of frequencies of occurrence of the beliefs I shall describe.

In offering the construction which is the main content of this book I have set down categories for a possible future content analysis of the Bolshevik operation code. But I have not myself made such an analysis. I could, therefore, not refute a critic who may contend that a different selection of Lenin-Stalin passages would produce a different code. I could only suggest that he try, and that both of us wait for the verdict of a content analysis—if one ever is to be undertaken.

What I propose, then, are, strictly speaking, merely hypotheses, and the data cited are merely illustrations. My reason for advancing the statements I make is, of course, my confidence that they would be confirmed by the fullest testing devices practicable.

The illustrations adduced are taken from widely differing contexts—statements from private papers and radio addresses, from public Party congresses and secret Central Committee plenums, from personal letters and official resolutions; statements about epistemology and about the organization of collective farms, about the tactics of Crassus against the Parthians and about the emergence, after a period of Communism, of a world language which will be neither Russian, nor German; statements made in Siberian exile and at the Yalta Conference, in newspapers appearing irregularly and with tiny circulation and in newspapers appearing daily in millions of copies; statements made as memoranda for oneself or one’s closest collaborators, and statements made to influence the masses and powerful elites; statements made in 1895 and statements made in 1950. This is as it should be: these are illustrations for the contention that certain beliefs are pervasive Bolshevik beliefs.

Looking through the pages of this book, the reader may soon find a passage from, say, Gogol juxtaposed to one by Stalin (in which Stalin may, but most often will not, quote Gogol), Why?

Bolshevism arose in the Russian stratum known as the intelligentsia, which largely felt that Russia was a problem. Several groups within the intelligentsia rejected or accepted what they regarded as various types of Russian man and of the Russian intelligent—types which they found described in Russian literature since the eighteen thirties. (There is a Russian tradition of stressing the role of literature as a reflection of life, as well as a model for life.) In Bolshevism (where rejected figures play a greater role than accepted ones) certain figures created, for instance, by Gogol early in the nineteenth century—Khlestakov, Chichikov, Manilov—appear as important and obnoxious contemporaries; just as does a figure created by Chekhov at the end of the nineteenth century, the man in the shell, Belikov. Central points of Bolshevik doctrine such as the need to fight against good feelings, against fear, against ineffective deception, are repeatedly conveyed through such figures.

In addition, I believe that in many cases it is only in Russian literature that one can find a clear and vivid description of the feelings and the moral sentiments which are opposed by, or continued in, Bolshevik beliefs. These beliefs themselves often avoid reference to—and even awareness of—the emotions and values which lie beneath them, which they accept or combat. By juxtaposing passages from the great texts of pre-Bolshevik Russian literature to passages from the great texts of Bolshevism I am advancing the following hypothesis (and it will inevitably have to remain a mere hypothesis, certainly in this study and, to some extent, after any amount of future research): the earlier passages express what the Bolshevik ones contain in unexpressed form. That is, I believe that the feelings overtly stated{13} in the non-Bolshevik statements are similar to those which, under suitably intimate (and hence impracticable) observation, Bolshevik leaders would turn out to have opposed or expressed under the guise of this or that rule of conduct ostensibly oriented on expediency only.

This is the hypothesis implied in my use of Russian literature, but nothing more.

Thus, where Russian statements are quoted which make affirmations about Russia, they are used merely to illustrate Russian beliefs about Russia, but not my beliefs about Russian national character. I should like to state emphatically that in this book I do not make any affirmations about Russian national character.

Nor do I mean to imply that the themes from pre-Bolshevik Russian literature which I connect with Bolshevik beliefs are not to be found in other literatures; or that other, contrasting themes are not to be found in Russian literature. To repeat, I quote Russian literature not to trace a history of pre-Bolshevik feelings and thoughts, but only to present what I believe to be some of the unexpressed content of Bolshevism.

Repeatedly, I speculate—the lack of appropriate evidence prevents me from doing more than that—on the unconscious significance of Bolshevik beliefs in a way which involves, explicitly or implicitly, propositions of psychoanalysis. However, my delineation of the preconscious and conscious content of Bolshevik doctrine does not—another point I should like to emphasize—demand an acceptance of the theory of psychoanalysis. It is possible to accept that theory and reject my portrait of Bolshevism, or to reject the theory and find the portrait acceptable. That I happen to accept both psychoanalytic theory and my own construction of Bolshevism is, strictly speaking, irrelevant.{14}

A large fraction of this book is not in my own words but in those of Lenin and Stalin, and in the form of extracts from Russian poems, short stories, novels, plays. Granted that these are my raw materials, it may be asked why they should intrude into the finished product. Is this an analysis or an unanalyzed compilation, a Bartlett of familiar and unfamiliar Russian quotations?

As I have said, it is my aim to evoke the spirit of Bolshevism. I believe that for this purpose—for the purpose of emotional learning, of acquiring empathy with strange feelings and thoughts—quotations are superior to paraphrases.

Also, there is another consideration arising from the religious nature of Bolshevism. Without explicitly codifying allowed and disallowed words and sentences, as is done in many religions, Bolshevism has nevertheless developed a special language in which a limited number of terms and statements is required, a few are just possible, and very many excluded. Intellectually and politically it is necessary to learn this language; but for this purpose the large-scale use of paraphrases would not do.

The fact that a certain quotation appears in a certain place in this book may be mistaken as part of a process of compilation. In reality, it represents a point of analysis: it is thereby affirmed that this passage illustrates the proposition which it follows (one of the several hundred propositions advanced below). The study is kept, throughout, on the level of analysis. Quotations should, therefore, not be read by themselves, but always in relation to the proposition under which they are subsumed.

There may be an impression that the great number of quotations are repetitive and monotonous. A typical sequence in this study begins with a proposition of mine followed by a few passages from Russian literature, followed by some statements of Lenin’s and some by Stalin (in chronological order). While I could have increased the material taken from Russian literature, I could not easily and amply have done so in the case of Lenin and Stalin. This study contains a large fraction of the Lenin-Stalin texts which are most significant for the aspects of Bolshevism chosen for investigation. In a way there are too few available—or quoted—passages, given the very large political importance of many of the points discussed. Take a central position such as the Bolshevik prohibition on permitting oneself to be provoked. There are only very few direct statements of this—which I quote—so that I should surely have wanted to lengthen this already long book to discuss more statements with this content had they been available. For while this is, absolutely speaking, a long book, it does deal with intellectual and political issues of an order which, to my mind, makes the question of length secondary—or the book, relatively speaking, brief.

Much of what appears to be repetition of quotations results from the fact that so much of Bolshevik doctrine is only implied. To indicate how pervasive a belief may be though it is rarely, or never, fully explicit, it seems appropriate to show that it applies to events in the late 19th century and in the middle of the 20th century, to domestic and foreign affairs, to matters of philosophy as well as of organization. But even where beliefs are fully explicated it seems essential to do the same thing in order to show how a belief in fact enters into the actual life of the Bolshevik elite. Also, in most cases each quotation under a given proposition refers to a different historically important situation. To reduce the number of quotations would therefore be to detract from the usefulness of this book for future studies of Bolshevik policies.

As to monotony, it is the monotony of Bolshevik emotional discipline and intellectual impoverishment (look at the contrast of non-Bolshevik Russian literature!).

However, the data of this book may not be felt as monotonous once the emotional atmosphere of Bolshevism is captured, and its development through rime perceived. Then the mention of 1900 or 1901 will evoke an atmosphere—in Lenin’s life, or in that of Russia—radically different from 1903 or 1904; and the same will hold true for 1928 as against 1930 or 1931. Statements which show the application of a given point of the Bolshevik code to such varied situations may, then, not be felt as repetitions. In this sense this is not a book for beginners in the study of Bolshevism—although, as I have said, beginners should be able to understand the points developed; and other social scientists may be able to substitute for the familiarity with Bolshevism they may lack an interest in the theory of the human sciences to which this book attempts to contribute.

It may be useful to indicate what I consider to be some of the basic themes in the Bolshevik mind; the overall beliefs behind the particular conceptions of politics which shall be presented in this study.

Bolshevik doctrine is the doctrine of how to conduct the Bolshevik Party. The Party aims at a radical transformation of the world. It is taken for granted that the institutional changes vaguely indicated by such terms as socialism and communism will change the condition of man in an immensely beneficial sense; what the ultimate values are, with a view to which the predicted change is so inordinately desirable, appears as evident, but is not explicitly discussed.

The Party is the first political organization in the history of mankind that fully knows what it is doing, that is entirely conscious. Its unique foresight enables it to utilize the opportunities presented by a historical process going, in this century, from capitalism to communism.

This is the side of optimism in Bolshevik doctrine. I am more impressed by its pessimistic side, which is in some respects less explicitly formulated, but, it seems to me, more in operation.

It is not possible in Bolshevik doctrine to ask whether the career of the Party may end not in worldwide victory (as the explicit dogma has it), but in catastrophe for itself and for society at large. But, I should guess, Bolshevik leaders have entertained and do entertain such doubts. In any case, regardless of whether the belief in ultimate victory is firm or not, it is a central point of Bolshevik feeling and thought that almost any moment before that consummation is replete with visible or invisible dangers of an extreme kind.

There are enemies—those outside the boundaries of the Party’s domain and hostile elements inside it—whose constant aim is not merely to contain and restrict but rather to annihilate the Party. They know-as does the Party—that all intermediary positions between total victory and total defeat are unstable; that the question of who (will destroy) whom is at all times the only realistic question in the relations between the Party and the rest of the world.

There are also the inimical factors within the camp; the spontaneity of the masses—inside and outside the Party—as well as the natural inclinations within one’s own soul and body. If one lets oneself go to do what comes naturally—to which the masses tend and to which even the most hardened leadership may feel tempted—catastrophe is apt to ensue.

This catastrophe, fully developed, is annihilation. Penultimately, it is loss of control; that is, being controlled by an alien force. Thus there is another form of who-whom? which Bolshevism perceives behind almost any relation in politics, whether it is a relation between groups or between a group and the facts around it: who will control whom? (In the case of human agents, this also means: who will utilize whom?) Apart from the danger of an overt attack, there is thus the even more frightening possibility of being controlled by an alien force without knowing it. An outer enemy may succeed in provocation; the inner enemy—one’s feelings—may distort what one believes to be a correct evaluation of reality, and thus one will be carried away into a wrong path.

Against the dangers within oneself the major defense is a ruthless and incessant fight which aims at the utter eradication in the soul of all the manifestations of spontaneity, and their replacement by their opposites, the various aspects of consciousness. Instead of a romantic, sentimental, moralizing adoration of Revolution, there must be maximization of power by any means; instead of vagueness and wordiness, precision and realism; instead of being overwhelmed by feelings or by distress about the lack of them, there must be restraint of soul and muscles; instead of procrastination or precipitation, incessant but well-prepared action; instead of vacillation or doctrinaire rigidity, persistence and flexibility; instead of taking the line of least resistance, one must go to the limits of one’s strength and skill; instead of dispersion of effort, there must be concentration.

Ideally, the destruction of the enemies within one’s soul must be accomplished instantaneously; but the Party must allow for the existing strength of outside enemies which makes their liquidation possible only over long periods. (The penalty for not taking account of any aspect of reality is to be dominated—and hence annihilated—by it.) The Party must deter the enemy’s annihilatory attempts by maximizing its power and vigilance, and by resisting the very beginnings of attacks, preferably by counterattacks. However, if the relationship of forces is too unfavorable, the Party must take account of this by retreating; as penalty for not doing so there threatens, again, annihilation.

It is against the background of such dangers that the Party, by a miracle of correctness (but there seems to be an underlying doubt: may not the Party err fatally in the next crisis?), not only escapes disaster, but even advances. The road of advance itself, however, is paved with potential disasters—e.g., if one gets dizzy with success.

NOTE

The Nineteenth Congress of the Soviet Party was held in Moscow on October 5-14, 1952, after the completion of this book. Certain changes, which do not seem to indicate any modification of the essentials of Bolshevism studied below, but which it may be useful to survey briefly, were made in the symbolic façade of the Party.

The Political Bureau (Politburo) and the Organizational Bureau (Orgburo) of the Central Committee were replaced by a Presidium, with a membership somewhat larger than that of its predecessors taken together. This change does not seem to affect the high degree of concentration of power at the top level of the Party. The influence exercised by the Presidium as a whole, likely, will be smaller than that wielded by the Politburo. The rather modest status of many members and alternates of the new body may indicate the limitations of the organ into which they are admitted rather than their own ascent. The increase in the size of the Presidium may have the same significance, and also make it less suitable for the elaboration of top level decisions. Many of the new members are occupied with special functions in the central or local Party apparatus, and on the ministerial level of the government.

In the Politburo there had been a crucial, though not very visible, differentiation between a few top members and about ten of lower status. In the new Presidium, where this process is apt to be carried farther, there is probably something like an informal byuro prezidiuma, a Presidburo. Thus the place of real power moves yet farther away from the publicly visible façade. The Politburo of about fifteen has been replaced by a Presidium of about thirty-five, and a Presidburo of about five.

For a long time after the official designation of the Soviet political police had been changed from Cheka to GPU, it continued to be called, colloquially, by its old name. The same happened when GPU was replaced by NKVD; and NKVD by MVD and MGB. Hence we may continue to speak of the Politburo when we talk about the top level of the Party leadership.

Not only the designation of the supreme body of the Party was changed at the Nineteenth Congress but the name of the Party itself was modified. From VKP(B)—Vsesoyuznaya Kommunisticheskaya Partiya (Bolshevikov), All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks)—it becomes KPSS—Kommunisticheskaya Partiya Sovetskovo Soyuza, Communist Party of the Soviet Union.

The change from All-Union to of the Soviet Union expresses a yet further increase in the closeness between Party and State. The new name stresses the whole of that state rather than the components (Soviet Republics etc.), of which it is said to be a union, and is more in accordance with the names of state organs of the Soviet Union.

The sacred term Bolshevik disappears not only in the name of the Party, but also in various contexts of the new Party statute adopted at the Congress. Thus para. 40 of the statute of 1939 said:

"In order to strengthen Bolshevik leadership and political work, the Central Committee has the right to create political departments..."

But the corresponding para. 37 of the statute of 1952 indicates:

"For purposes of strengthening administrative and political work the Central Committee has the right to set up political departments...." (author’s italics)

The transition from Lenin to Malenkov (See the Epilogue, below) could not be expressed more succinctly.

For many years Bolshevik leaders have been engaged in widening the scissors between esoteric and exoteric talk. It has to be accepted among them (not necessarily with full consciousness) that it is usually not useful to render public the concepts and articles of one’s real faith; that the very dedication to the great goal of world communism includes the capacity to renounce the mediocre pleasures of premature and partial exhibition (See Ch. III, Sect. 5). As Bolshevism enters the second half of the century, its true name may appear to the Politburo as ever more unintelligible, hence unuseful, hence damaging. Its true spirit then requires the sacrifice of the name. This may have been in Stalin’s mind when he wrote or approved the text of the Congress resolution on the Party’s change of name:

The dual name of our Party ‘Communist’-‘Bolshevik’ had for its aim to dissociate...[the Party] from Menshevism. However, since the Menshevik Party has long ago departed from the stage in the USSR, the dual name of the Party has lost its meaning....The concept ‘Bolshevik’ expresses simply the historical fact, which has lost its significance long ago, that at the Second Congress of the Party, held in 1903, the Leninists received a majority of the votes and for this reason became known as ‘Bolsheviks.’...

The Bolshevik’s attachment to the past (See Ch. II, Sect. 1) is thus held in check by his inclination to do away with what has outlived itself, to kill what is dying (See Ch. II, Sect. 3). And Stalin, who has killed the old Bolsheviks, who probably does not think highly of his successors, may want to signify his conviction that he is the last Bolshevik.

January 20, 1953

NATHAN LEITES

Prologue: The Politburo and the West

How do the conceptions set forth in this study apply to the policies pursued by the present rulers of the Soviet Union since the end of the Second World War? Before proceeding to a systematic analysis of Bolshevism I shall indicate some of the guesses about contemporary world politics which seem to follow from my views. I have already attempted to show why it is impracticable, at present, to formulate anything more certain than guesses about the mind of the Soviet Politburo. The conceptions which I shall develop will help in interpreting, and in predicting, major Politburo actions.

What I have said in the introduction implies that almost every statement in this prologue should, if one wanted to be precise, contain a probably, if not a possibly; often also a largely or mainly. In order to simplify the exposition I shall omit words of this kind. The spurious air of certainty which this procedure will create seems preferable to the constant repetition of admissions of a partial ignorance which is obvious enough in view of the known secretiveness of the Soviet rulers.

When, for the sake of brevity, I speak about feelings or calculations of Bolsheviks, I have in mind only the present leadership of the Soviet Union. Usually I do not indicate to what extent a thought which I attribute to the Politburo is kept secret by it, or made public. On the whole, the first course is chosen by the present Soviet rulers, while they are apt to make statements in public whose manifest content they regard as naive or nonsensical. The words in quotation marks are taken from the special vocabulary of Bolshevism, which is more fully explored in the main body of the study.

Politics Is A War

It is already difficult to recall how confidently the West expected the onset of an era of international calm at the end of the Second World War. To many it came as a shock that the Soviet government did not share this belief, but rather appeared to take it for granted that politics abhors a vacuum of strife. As some major conflicts of the preceding years had been liquidated by the surrender of one side, other lines of cleavage would, naturally (to the Politburo), become more prominent. The new struggle had, of course, to be between the three great powers that were left; more specifically, between the Anglo-Americans and the Politburo itself.

All this seemed quite evident to the Soviet rulers in the context of their basic beliefs about politics. Once Communism has achieved and consolidated victory on a world scale, social life, they predict, will be harmonious. But before that time the opposite is true: for the present and the operationally relevant future, it is an illusion—which in effect serves the status quo—to believe that in domestic or in international relations there can, essentially, be anything between classes and states but utter incompatibility of interests and fierce conflict of wills. In some cases—e.g., between various layers of the bourgeoisie and various states of the bourgeois world—a conflict between two contestants need not be such that only one of them, in the long run, can survive. Conflicts may have more limited objectives: the issue of the two world wars (apart from the involvement of the Soviet Union) was the redistribution of the world among various imperialist powers, as their relative strength changed because of the uneven development of world capitalism. However, in other cases conflicts are of a nature which is described by the question: Who (will destroy) Whom? This is the kind of conflict which prevails between the Party and the rest of the world.

It is a central Bolshevik belief that enemies strive not merely to contain the Party or to roll it back, but rather to annihilate it. This belief was strong both in those early phases of Bolshevism and in those recent times (say, from 1944 to 1948) when many participants in, and observers of, world politics took a less extreme view of the prevailing situation. On the other hand, if the Party acts on the belief that its enemies are annihilative, it is apt to render that belief less unrealistic by the very reactions which its conduct evokes. If imaginary enemies are treated as enemies, they are apt finally to become real enemies.

The dogma that the hostile arms of enemies are unlimited appears to Bolsheviks as so self-evident and as so fully confirmed by the course of events that they do not feel a need to re-examine it. (This is a characteristic Bolshevik attitude: the distinctive Bolshevik blend of empiricism and dogmatism.) Indeed, the belief we are discussing is so conceived that its factual re-examination by Bolsheviks would be most difficult: while enemies at all times strive to annihilate the Party, they proceed, on the whole, only as far in this direction as objective conditions permit at any given moment. Also, they often use devious and hidden means. Hence, any manifest enemy behavior-extreme enmity, mild hostility, apparent neutrality, or an effective alliance with the Party—is felt as quite compatible with the enemy’s destructive designs. Just like the Party, the enemy is capable of biding his time and of taking into account the exigencies of the concrete situation. Just like the Party, he knows how advantageous it often is to arrange a public façade which is quite at variance with one’s true face.

As long as the question Who-Whom? has not been decided by the consolidation of world communism—and it cannot be decided short of that—the world is, basically, in a state of high tension. If the Party were to forget this, it would not reduce the tension but merely render certain its own annihilation in the further course of the conflict. To Bolsheviks, high tension is the normal state of politics. They do not experience it as something that just cannot go on, but rather as something that will necessarily persist. What Westerners call a real agreement seems to Bolsheviks inconceivable. It is often predicted in the West that if particular issues—the Austrian treaty, for instance—could be settled with the Politburo, an easing of the overall tension might ensue. For Bolsheviks, this does not follow. There might be less noise, but the basic situation—the presence of two blocs attempting to annihilate each other—would be unchanged. The only real settlement is that by which one of the contestants is utterly destroyed; before this end is reached all apparent solutions (for example, an agreement on Germany in 1952) are but weapons in the continuing conflict. What a Western statesman called local and limited settlements of outstanding issues are usually possible and often required; but a general agreement to live and let live—towards which this statesman proposed to work by local and limited settlements—is inconceivable. The Party is obliged to strive for the annihilation of its enemies, a necessary condition of the fulfillment of its mission. Were it prepared to be delinquent in this, it would merely lay itself open to annihilation by its enemies: they would not imitate the Party’s delinquency but rather utilize it to deprive of existence a Party which had ceased to strive for victory. There are only two stable situations: being dead and being all-powerful. If one is less than fully determined to gain power over the world, one chooses annihilation, whether one knows it or not. Any four-power settlement of the German problem, for instance, will not eliminate the possibility, to put it mildly, of Germany’s becoming part of an enemy bloc (unless such a settlement were to transfer all of Germany to the Soviet sphere). But even if there were no such danger, an arrangement about Germany (or any other particular issue) would not eliminate the capitalist encirclement of the Soviet domain. There is only one way to do this: to replace this encirclement by the socialist encirclement of the capitalist world. Even when this has been achieved, the Party cannot relax its efforts on pain of risking annihilation. It must apply the principle of pursuit: destroy the beaten, but still existing, enemy in order to prevent a possible reversal in the relationship of forces.

Thus, whether the atmosphere of international relations seems to become calmer and more harmonious or more agitated and tense, the basic structure of the relations between the Soviet domain and the rest of the world remains at all times indicated by the question, Who will destroy Whom? Bolshevik leaders must be oriented on this unchanging core—which it is their privilege to perceive clearly—rather than on the changing surfaces which absorb the attention of vulgar and ephemeral politicians. They must yield neither to panic in what seems to be a crisis nor to complacency in what seems to be a condition of stability. In particular, they must not permit themselves to be lulled to sleep by the appearance of calm with which an enemy may camouflage his preparations for an attack. Bolsheviks perceive the situation at all times as acutely tense. Whenever there is no hot war between the Party and the world, there is always a cold war, in which it may or may not be practicable and useful to distract attention from the fact that it is only by the political death of one of the contestants that the situation can really be changed.

However, in the Bolshevik view, one cannot predict what particular forms this basic conflict will assume. On the one hand, Bolshevik leaders despise those who do not perceive the underlying tension in all politics (particularly in all politics involving the Party—and which kind of politics does not, in the mid-twentieth century?). On the other hand they have contempt for those romantics who assume that a conflict which is basically about life and death is therefore bound to lead to a third world war in the near future. The Party must be utterly flexible in the choice of its strategy and tactics, and must keep an entirely open mind about the shapes which the basic conflict of the century may yet assume. Prepared to use quite undramatic and slow procedures, it must envisage the possibility of a protracted era of apparent stability (coexistence) in international affairs. In this case the Party, as well as its enemies, would of course continuously calculate whether they should use drastic means against each other, e.g., start a total war. However, in view of the prevailing relationships of strength, they would again and again decide against such a change of method. Still, some day—any day—a change in estimated relative strength might lead either one of the two parties to make the calculated decision to proceed to all-out attack. In any case, the cold war will not ‘automatically lead to a hot war; it will not erupt" into an irrepressible large-scale use of weapons, as Western observers often assume. To the Politburo there is a perfectly normal modus vivendi between itself and the West now; there is always a modus vivendi between two parties engaged in a life-and-death struggle until one has been annihilated by the other.

Push to The Limit

At the end of the Second World War the power commanded by the Politburo was very much greater than it had been before that war broke out or before the Soviet Union became involved in it. Hence there were many in the West who expected the Soviet government to concentrate its energies for a number of years on reconstruction and consolidation in the expanded Soviet area, and to accept status quo elsewhere. Instead, the Politburo initiated without delay a variety of policies designed to expand its power yet further. In the years following the end of the Second World War the Politburo established a very high degree of control over almost all of the areas occupied by the Soviet Army in 1944-1945 (the exceptions were Finland, Eastern Austria, and—involuntarily—Yugoslavia); and the Politburo or its agents undertook various kinds of offensives—with varying degrees of success—against Western Berlin, Northern Greece, Northern Iran, Burma, Malaya, Indochina, the Philippines, China, Tibet, Southern Korea. At various times agents of the Politburo in France and Italy—the leaderships of the local Communist Parties—seemed to approach the seizure of power, or at least to occupy positions from which they could inhibit vital activities of the existing governments; and they often threatened to do just that. After the break between Moscow and Belgrade the Politburo and its Hungarian, Bulgarian, Rumanian and Albanian agents committed many acts—verbal and others—which seemed to presage an attack on Yugoslavia.

Why were those Western observers proved wrong who in 1945 predicted a status quo policy on the part of the Soviet government? What were the motivations behind its expansionist policy?

Western interpretations of the conduct of the Politburo in foreign affairs sometimes stress the limited nature of its objectives (is there not, one asks, a continuity between Tsarist and Soviet policy?), and sometimes an unlimited goal: the world. There are those who believe that its motivation is essentially offensive—to achieve the expansion of Politburo power all over the world—and those who maintain that the Soviet government is chiefly concerned with the defense of its domain against annihilative enemies. There is, I believe, a part of truth in every one of these interpretations. Where they may be incorrect is in opposing each other as incompatible, while the operational code of the Politburo actually involves a blend of all these seemingly contrasting tendencies.

The Politburo does aim at the worldwide expansion of its own power, as the necessary condition of the worldwide establishment of communism. Bolsheviks deny that a conflict between power and ideology is conceivable: the salvation of mankind by communism presupposes the search for maximum power by the Party at any moment before the complete realization of communism (when all power vanishes); Bolshevik doctrine arms the Party with principles guiding its search for more power. What Westerners may regard as the substantive merits of a particular policy are to Bolsheviks irrelevant; a policy is only, and fully, justified by the increment of power which it procures for the Party.

However, the Politburo also believes that its very life—the very life of the great instrument for the realization of communism—remains acutely threatened as long as major enemies exist. Their utter defeat is a sheer necessity of survival. Also, while the Politburo views itself as the agent of gigantic changes, it feels obliged to achieve the next practicable step at any given moment; and this step may be quite small, or may coincide with a traditional objective of pre-Soviet policy. Thus Politburo policies are both offensive and defensive, limited and unlimited in objective.

An advance has a defensive rationale for Bolsheviks not only because the politically dead enemy is the only safe enemy, but also because it improves one’s defensive position in relation to the enemy’s next onslaught. By advancing as far as possible one denies to the enemy as many assets as possible; the enemy will occupy any temporary no-man’s-land unless one anticipates him. By doing so one also increases the resources with which one will have to withstand his next assault. One procures for oneself—e.g., by the acquisition of more glacis areas—additional leeway to engage in retreat, if that should become necessary. As Bolsheviks must look far ahead and remain aware of the recurrence of ebbs and flows in history, a present advance may be thought of, in part, as an aid in mastering future setbacks by retreats. It is thus both on behalf of survival and of victory that the Party must always mobilize its entire energy to transform into a reality each existing opportunity for advance.

It has