Stalinist bureaucracy and Trotskyist literature
| Anatoly Chernyaev (third from left) with Leonid Brezhnev (second from right) at a dacha used for drafting important political texts. |
Yesterday I read an abstract of an essay by a currently famous Trotskyist Mandel. A quite Leninist concept of the impending revolution in the West. He believes that right now (not in 1917, or 1920, or 1945, or even 1968) the West is able to repeat the pattern of the Soviet revolution. With an emphasis on the role of the Soviets, dual power first and then the dictatorship of the proletariat.
In any case, as they say: if we continue to build relations with the revolutionary forces of the West on an ideological basis (and we cannot get rid of this) then the only company for us are the modern ultra-educated and intelligent Trotskyists. (Anatoly S. Chernyaev, Diary of Anatoly Chernyaev (1978), trans. Anna Melyakova, ed. Svetlana Savranskaya, p. 39.)
In these two paragraphs, an entire world is contained. Let us proceed step by step.
The first point that needs to be made is this: in the Soviet Union, access to Trotskyist literature was confined to a very small minority at the highest levels of the Stalinist bureaucracy. [*] Outside this narrow circle, Trotskyist literature was illegal, and even possessing it was treated as a criminal offence.
Chernyaev was a Kremlin bureaucrat whose working life, apart from his travels, meetings and conferences, was largely spent dealing with texts. Policy notes, assessments, reports, books, pamphlets and similar materials, as well as the drafting of speeches, formed a major part of his work. [**] The fact that a summary of an article by Mandel -whose title Chernyaev unfortunately does not give- came before him reflected not so much any impossibility of access to the full text as the way the bureaucratic apparatus functioned. Senior officials were often presented with “processed” information: summaries, notes, selected passages or evaluation briefs. This rested on the assumption that their time was scarce and that their main function was not to read everything from beginning to end, but to go into greater depth when they considered it necessary.
The Soviet working class, other sections of the working population, and young people were to be kept strictly away from such dangerous and “poisonous” materials. Access to these texts was reserved exclusively for the highest-ranking officials, who were assumed to be immune to such toxins. Moreover, the Soviet people were not even supposed to know that such a double standard existed.
| Ernest Mandel |
Moreover, Chernyaev not only stops short of describing a well-known Trotskyist like Mandel as counter-revolutionary; he also remarks that Mandel’s approach to the prospects for revolution in the West was “quite Leninist”.
From this, it becomes clear that what Chernyaev found truly surprising was not that a Trotskyist writer should adopt a Leninist perspective. What struck him above all was that, as late as 1978, it could still be argued that “the model followed by the Soviet revolution” retained its validity for Western countries. Chernyaev might perhaps have found this more understandable had Mandel said it in 1968; but the fact that such a claim was still being made in 1978, such a “late” date, plainly seemed excessive to him.
What made 1978 appear a “late date” in Chernyaev’s eyes becomes clear from the second paragraph. The spread of Eurocommunism in the mid-1970s, led above all by communist parties with a broad mass base in Western Europe, opened up a deep rift within the international Stalinist movement.
Chernyaev’s diaries abound in examples of debates within the Kremlin, and particularly in the department where he worked, about what measures should be taken in response to this rift. He was not in favour of adopting an “ideologically based” stance towards these developments, and he was critical of the “hawkish” wing that sought to push matters in that direction.
As a pragmatist, Chernyaev’s message was essentially this: if they pursued the hawks’ line, they would in the end find themselves with only those “ultra-educated and intelligent” Trotskyists as possible partners for cooperation. For him, that was not an acceptable outcome. This is precisely what he was suggesting, with a note of irony. Chernyaev believed that persisting with a hawkish stance towards Eurocommunism would lead them into a blind alley, and he complained that this had more or less become inevitable. He was not, however, indulging in some bizarre prediction that the CPSU would move towards cooperation with the Trotskyists.
[*] In addition, the well-known Progress Publishers operated a “special editorial” system under which foreign works that criticised the Soviet Union from various angles, or were otherwise regarded as ideologically objectionable, were translated and circulated in very small print runs among the highest-ranking Stalinist bureaucrats. These publications were distributed according to a special list. Some translated books also bore inscriptions such as “For scientific libraries only”. Such volumes were not put on sale; instead, they were kept in major libraries for the use of a somewhat wider circle, including trusted Stalinist ideologues, and were not available for loan.
[**] For example, Chernyaev is listed as the “chief editor” in the Turkish translation of the first volume of The International Working-Class Movement (Uluslararası İşçi Sınıfı Hareketi Tarihi), prepared by the Institute of the International Working-Class Movement of the USSR Academy of Sciences and published by Yordam Kitap in December 2021.