In the 1930s, however, the regime possessed more instruments than it had in the 1920s for imposing its authority on everyone, including party members – the criminal code and the secret police foremost among them. But another phenomenon proved still more potent: with the expansion of its apparatus, the party ended up becoming its mere appendix – though this was not Stalin’s ultimate objective (in the 1940s he developed even more radical projects). Whether he adopted this policy in 1933 or somewhat earlier is a secondary issue. What matters is a combination of different factors. Domination of a country thrust into full-scale industrialization and ‘collectivization’ demanded the final emasculation of the old revolutionary party and its transformation into an obedient tool. ‘Adequate’ repressive agencies, as well as an ideological lexicon to justify the repression, were constructed to this end or simply updated for new purposes. Thus, the category of ‘counter revolutionary crime’ contained in the criminal code, and which sounded obvious in a revolutionary situation, was refined to meet new requirements. A military prosecutor, V. A. Viktorov, who was very active under Khrushchev, described the terroristic trends and practices of the Stalinist era in highly critical terms, referring to the ‘amendments with far-reaching consequences’ introduced into the criminal code in 1926, despite strenuous opposition in various circles.[2]
The article on ‘counter-revolutionary crimes’ originally required a clearly proven ‘intention followed by action’ before prosecution was warranted. But the newly created GPU skilfully manoeuvred so that arrests and interrogation eluded supervision by prosecutors, who were supposed to monitor their legality. It also succeeded in circumventing ‘awkward’ legal provisions in the criminal code. Amendments to the code, and the new powers granted to the GPU by the government, enabled the latter to prosecute and punish without real proof – i.e., without the ‘culprit’ having actually committed a crime. Investigations no longer had to prove the existence of an ‘intention followed by action’. Viktorov’s analysis indicates that the way was now open for a type of ‘legal’ repression where the only requisite proof was the accusation itself. However strange it might seem, guilt was firmly established even before the indictment was decided.
In the last analysis, the combination of this pseudo-legal manipulation of the code and use and abuse of the ‘heresy syndrome’ led to a surreal situation where guilt was genetically inscribed in all citizens, who were liable to be prosecuted at will. Paradoxically, this juridical absurdity, cloaked in the vaguest of terminologies, would soon be used to combat not only what were regarded as anti-regime currents, but also – and primarily – the ruling organization itself, in whose name the operation was supposedly being conducted. Party members, as well as the large pool of ex-members, became the target of a witch-hunt, at a time when no serious opposition to Stalin remained – unless we regard as opposition the attitude of those who resigned their party duties or let them lapse, or the numerous complaints and criticisms emanating from the party’s rank and file, and even some of its higher strata, as reported by whoever did the reporting.
Thus, as Stalin increasingly entrenched himself at the top and the category of ‘counter-revolutionary crime’ became ever more vague in the criminal code and in practice, the security agencies extricated themselves from control by the law and legal authorities and expanded the scope of their arbitrary punitive powers. A veritable machinery of terror was now available, ready to be deployed against anyone. Party membership, old or new, became irrelevant – or even dangerous. Stalin had scores to settle with many members of what was supposed to be his own party, including with some of those who had helped him acquire the tools to do just that. With the party tamed and the police completely unconstrained and directly subordinate to the ‘top man’, the way was free for Stalin’s solo stewardship, without ‘sentimentality’ or checks, of a powerful centralized state. In fact, this state was a war machine ready to do battle and provided with all necessary means for that purpose. As the title of Part One puts it, this state was combined with a ‘psyche’. It is remarkable how long members of the ‘old guard’ – with the exception of Lenin – were unaware of what Stalin was capable of. By the time they discovered it, it was too late. Were they too ‘Westernized’ to decipher such a dark psyche? Or just short-sighted? Or, more charitably, were they still too dominated by a socialist ideology to realize that they had embarked on a journey that was leading them back into the depths of Mother Russia, and that different means would have been required to prevent the worst?
Whatever our answer to that question, once in opposition to Stalin the different currents in the old guard – supporters of Trotsky, Zinoviev or Bukharin, each of them ‘waking up’ after the previous one had already been vanquished – fought as best they could for some four years. Most ended up yielding to Stalin. Trotsky, forced into exile, was the main exception. Following the defeat of the more sizeable oppositions, small groups of disillusioned top officials attempted some criticism between 1929 and 1932, but they were soon neutralized. Mention should be made of a particularly brave illegal organization headed by a former secretary of the Moscow party, Ivan Riutin. He had circulated a thousand-page document entitled ‘Platform of the Marxist-Leninists’, which accused Stalin of betraying the party and the revolution. According to some information, the Central Committee would not permit Stalin to eliminate him physically in 1932. We know that Riutin was sufficiently courageous and intransigent to declare to one of his interrogators: ‘I will not go down on my knees.’ He went to prison and subsequently disappeared. Another opposition figure whom we have already encountered – Trotsky’s former associate, Christian Rakovsky – carried on writing remarkable critical analyses of Stalin’s policies and regime until 1934, when he finally ‘repented’. It only served to prolong his life for a few more years.
Small, sometimes tiny, currents, as well as numerous individuals, continued to express criticism. The authorities were informed of it either when the police seized material during raids on people’s homes, or when such criticisms were sent by mail to the press, the party, leaders, or Stalin himself – invariably unsigned, so as to escape retribution. Researchers today are still unearthing them in large numbers in the archives.
Thus, any organized opposition, whether open or clandestine, was now impossible. But individual demonstrations, as well as politically charged collective reactions – disorder, strikes, withdrawal from the party (however discreet) – allow us to suggest that the population and many party members were not exactly mute. This is a topic that requires more research, but we already have a pioneering book, The Year 1937, by Oleg Khlevniuk, which offers the first evidence of the widespread existence of different forms of opposition and protest – in this case, against the purges. One of the forms of protest mentioned is a wave of suicides. Official propaganda insinuated that a suspect’s suicide was proof of guilt or cowardice, but the measures adopted to reduce the number of such suicides were unavailing. Helpless in the face of state terror, some people had no other way of defending themselves. According to one source, suicides numbered in the thousands. In 1937, there were 782 in the ranks of the Red Army alone. The following year, the figure rose to 832 (not counting the navy). Such suicides were not always desperate acts by the powerless; they were also courageous gestures of protest.
The social turbulence generated by the ‘great leap forward’ – the massive population movements, particularly those covered by the term tekuchka – and the need to control those sectors where the ensuing crisis was at its most acute, impelled the regime to adopt two strategies that had contradictory dynamics:
2
See V. A. Viktorov,