Whatever the survivals from past traditions and practices, urbanization transformed society and forced the government to adapt to this new entity, since otherwise the country could not be governed or developed. In other words, the state and system of government had to acquire a mobility of their own and respond to a quite different historical agenda. The changes we have already pointed to – particularly in the sphere of repression – were a reaction to the complexity of the tasks imposed on the state by new realities. The old methods of coercion and mobilization were no longer suitable: new means were required and novel, more thoughtful strategies had to be adopted. Problems often developed spontaneously and their resolution dictated flexibility and an ability to negotiate with the population. But the bureaucratic authorities were still neophytes when it came to handling the urban maze, which was often independent and intractable. Urbanization, which went hand in glove with modernization, generated new trends in social behaviour and a wealth of specific ‘resources’ that largely eluded state policy. This huge concentration of dynamic energy could not be controlled with the methods and apparatuses that had been employed to manage a predominantly rural population and a relatively small urban sector. In this particular instance, the ‘call of history’ required the state to adapt to the new reality and alter itself sufficiently to give rein to the dynamic forces of urban society and concentrate on the domains where it was actually competent.
In this regard, the changes made at the beginning of the Khrushchev period in the spheres of penal, labour, educational and social policy – surveyed in Part Two – were promising moves in the right direction. They betokened the system’s recognition of the transformation under way in society as a whole and gave rise to new forms of relationship between society and the state apparatus. This process proceeded in tandem with a ‘de-militarization’ of society and the regime. The imbrication of social and economic factors became extremely complex and the state strove to respond to it by adapting to new needs and moods. The relationship between the world of work and the state was often summed up from the workers’ standpoint by a quip we have already cited: ‘You pretend to pay us and we pretend to work.’ Some people took it for the literal truth, and although it was only a witty remark it did contain a grain of truth – i.e. the existence of a tacit social contract, never signed or ratified, whereby the relevant parties arrived at an understanding about running a low-intensity, low-productivity economy. Its consequences were multiple. The first was that it made for a relatively small number of conflicts in the workplace, and perhaps even in society at large. But it also meant a rather low standard of living, which encouraged people to find ways to supplement their income in various private activities, whether legal or semi-legal (private plots, part-time second jobs). And this in turn had consequences that were not necessarily negative for all concerned.
For their part, the administrative strata, who were now better educated and more firmly in the saddle, used a whole range of initiatives, whether tolerated or illegal, which were indispensable for the success of the official side of the operation. Sometimes they veered towards plainly criminal acts of corruption and black-marketeering. In order to get anywhere near meeting the targets fixed by the planning authorities, ministerial agencies and the management of firms learnt to protect themselves with a whole array of defensive measures. In fact, they established a system based on informal rules: building up unauthorized reserves of stocks, means of production, and labour; using tolkachi (‘pushers’, expediters) and other intermediaries to obtain the requisite supplies from outside official channels; sabotaging or disregarding official investigations and policies; and, finally, creating powerful networks of allies and lobbies at the top. These administrative bodies eluded any real control by the party (or any other instance) and were not far from being the actual holders of state power.
The reality of an urban society and a nationalized economy also accounts for the changes in the modus operandi of the party, which was supposed to be the system’s forcing house, and in its relations with upper echelons of the bureaucracy. Its lower ranks (‘employees’) were part of society at large, as well as of the administrative network they were employed in. As such, they were both a source and a recipient of social opinions, moods, practices and interests. Bureaucratic interest groups (the managers of economic branches, the military–industrial complex, the scientific community, the military), as well as the interests, opinions and rights of lower bureaucratic layers (trade-union members all of them), were de facto legitimized. Similarly, the right of specialists to bargain hard over terms and conditions was de facto recognized in a ‘specialists’ labour market’. The de jure and de facto existence of a labour market became part of Soviet reality, as did the complex relations between management, workers, unions and party.
Concern about public expectations and a desire to respond to them now frequently featured on the government’s agenda and altered its modus operandi to a degree that was unprecedented since the end of the NEP. Party and state documents published at the time, or subsequently discovered in the archives, contain ample information and warnings about the moods of different social strata: party or government bodies express their anxiety over some particular policy (or lack of policy) that risks creating discontent. Workers’ attitudes were a major concern for the authorities and were often discussed by the apparatus, especially when reports indicated that workers were not attending party meetings, were not opening their mouths, or were booing speakers – not to mention the more determined forms of action and different forms of protest they resorted to (the number of strikes was on the increase).
Trends and opinions among students, intellectuals and administrative cadres were likewise reported and widely discussed. Low morale among these strata was issuing in poor performance and, not infrequently, in hostility to the party. This was why when a policy did create massive discontent it was moderated, officially withdrawn, or effectively abandoned. If women refused to accept jobs unless there were crèches for their children, the authorities responded: they admonished those responsible for this state of affairs, reorganized things, took steps to improve social policy, and offered concessions. This amounted to de facto – even de jure – recognition of various rights on a massive scale. Taking account of public opinion and negotiating with citizens were henceforth part of the socio-political scene. And when this was interrupted by rash policy decisions (as occurred under Khrushchev from time to time) there was an immediate political price to pay.