Vignettes of Life in the Worker’s Paradise- for those who think Mao and Marx are cool

 

Vignettes of Life in the Worker’s Paradise

Socialism and Communism seem to be cool,once again, among our young, who never experienced what it's like when you live under the thumb of a commissar who decides what you get and when, Of course, none of the younger generation would know what a sigh of relief came over the world when the Soviet Union disbanded and communism disappeared, with the exceptions of Cuba and North Korea. China had already begun on the path of a mixed state controlled and free enterprise economy, and  North Vietnam, which had fought bitterly against the United States to impose communism on South Vietnam, was also hurrying to abandon the machinery, if not the veneer.

Here, excerpted from my book,  Courage of the Spirit, is a description of life under the thougthful gaze of the Party.

 

(http://www.google.com/imgres?q=marx+and+engels&hl=en&biw=1401&bih=690&tbm=isch&tbnid=ny6D_VMWlBfa0M:&imgrefurl=http://www.ottawalife.com/2012/07/moriartys-musings-my-russian-symphony/karl-marx-friedrich-engels-vladimir-lenin-joseph-stalin/&docid=uOzEEol8x3cz9M&imgurl=http://www.ottawalife.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/Karl-Marx-Friedrich-Engels-Vladimir-Lenin-Joseph-Stalin.jpg&w=1024&h=768&ei=Zje_UaGhIcSxyQGA54HYDQ&zoom=1&ved=1t:3588,r:7,s:0,i:112&iact=rc&page=1&tbnh=169&tbnw=214&start=0&ndsp=12&tx=83&ty=84)

An great American journalist, Lincoln Steffens, visited with Lenin at the outset of the Soviet Revolution. Highly impressed by what he saw, he returned to the United States and famously declared:” I have seen the future and it works!”

 

My father and uncle spent several years in the future and made every effort possible to get back to the present.

 

The Soviet system had as its goal the shaping of the new Soviet man, an altruistic individual who would give his all for the common good, as attributed to Marx:” From each according to his ability; to each according to his needs. “ Marxism-Leninism,or Communism, would embody the goals of ancient preachers and idealists, the Utopia, free of the burdens of religious superstition and the restrictions of bourgeois society; all would own equally, private property would be abolished. Ultimately, in this ideal situation, Marx’s partner Engels predicted, the State itself would be superfluous and wither away. There would only be a very short “ dictatorship of the proletariat” for the transition.

 

 In this ideal world, as George Orwell’s Napoleon the Pig declared,” All animals are equal—but some are more equal than others”.

 

The idea of collective ownership produced dismal results. As my father explained, when all own everything, everyone owns nothing, and no one takes responsibility for anything and the Soviet economy lagged far behind the economies of America and Europe.

 

The “temporary dictatorship” lasted some 70 years, only to be replaced by a government of wealthy oligarchs and a flat ( or “regressive”) tax system

 

In some sense, both Communism and Nazism shared policies of terror and the overwhelming force of state and party machinery to create a new society. To the credit of communism, it must be said that the frenzy of terror was in pursuit of the noblest goals of human ideals, whereas for Nazism, the goals were the outright elevation of one race overall others and the annihilation of the Jews as the greatest obstacle to that victory.

 

Years later, when the American Jewish community agitated on behalf of Soviet Jewry, under the slogan, ”Let my people Go,” there were some voices calling the Soviet oppression of Jewish religion a second Holocaust. This hurt my father deeply. For all the flaws of the Soviets, all the rest of European Jewry would have been dead had the Soviets not crushed the German forces at Stalingrad and then rolled on to Berlin. He also told me that the Soviets could not possibly let Jews leave the Iron Curtain—because after the Jews, then the Satellite states like Poland and Czechoslovakia and the Soviet Republics such as the Ukraine and Kazakhstan and all the rest would clamor to leave. No system willingly commits suicide. Indeed, while some Jews were allowed to leave in the 1970’s, by 1980 the exit doors were shut again.        Only with glasnost and perestroika under Mikhail Gorbachov did the gates open again. As my father said would happen, the whole house of cards came tumbling down.

 

 

                   On Jewish life

                   What of Jewish life inside the Soviet Union. Stalin himself had published a statement:

                   “ In the U.S.S.R. anti-semitism is punishable with the utmost severity of the law as a phenomenon deeply hostile to the Soviet system. Under U.S.S.R. law ,active anti-semites are liable to the death penalty.J. Stalin (  Pravda, No. 329, November 30, 1936)

The Jews were a recognized nationality, and Yiddish a recognized language, and there was even an attempt at establishing a Jewish autonomous region, Birobidzhan ( far away to the extreme eastern end of Russia ).

It is no wonder that the Jews of Russia believed that the Revolution opened up new hope. After all, under the Tsar, there was a common policy, attributed to Supreme Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, Konstantin Pobedonetsov,” One third will die, one third will leave the country, and one third will be assimilated within the Russian people.”

Within a few years after the Revolution, those Jews in key positions of leadership , such as Trotsky ,Zinoviev and Kaminev, would be ousted and executed, while the regime did all it could to suppress Jewish religious and cultural identification. Lenin had already expressed the future policy towards Jews in the first year of the Revolution: “Jews and city dwellers of the Ukraine must be taken by hedgehog-skin gauntlets, sent to fight on front lines and should never be allowed in any administrative positions.”

My father tried to find out what the prognosis for Jewish identity was. He had rented a room with a Jewish family and in a very private  conversation one day, asked the father of the household what it was like to be a Jew in the Soviet Union. The man’s son was seated in the room and upon hearing the question immediately clapped his ears on his head , shouted,” I refuse to hear anything of this discussion” and stormed out. That one act defined for my father the future for Jews in the Soviet Union. If anything, both the host and my father were lucky, as youngsters were encouraged to betray reactionary statements or deeds of their parents.

(Typical cartoon published in post-Stalin USSR showing a Jew bowing to a Nazi boot.)

http://www.google.com/imgres?q=anti+semitism+in+soviet+union&hl=en&biw=1401&bih=646&tbm=isch&tbnid=4BHvrvpC9mMCnM:&imgrefurl=http://www.soviet-empire.com/ussr/viewtopic.php%3Ff%3D107%26t%3D52305&docid=qltfN5VyZxkGBM&imgurl=http://www.geschichteinchronologie.ch/judentum-aktenlage/antisem/d/EncJud_anti-semitism-band3-kolonne150-karikatur-jude-m-nazistiefel.jpg&w=645&h=590&ei=9zi_Ueb4AaeqyAG4wIHgCw&zoom=1&ved=1t:3588,r:25,s:0,i:166&iact=rc&page=2&tbnh=180&tbnw=216&start=22&ndsp=27&tx=88&ty=94

Don’t walk where you shouldn’t and volunteer gladly

My father was still naïve at the beginning of his exile in the Soviet Union. One fine day, the weather was good, so he went out for a walk, a saw a lovely park. He walked around, enjoyed the trees and the greenery, and suddenly, found himself surrounded by guards and hauled off to prison. After Berlin and Brno, he had had his full of prison.

 

Unbeknownst to him, he had stumbled upon a local headquarters for the NKVD, “EnKaViDa”, the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, the governmental agency responsible for executing enemies of the people and carting others off to the Soviet Gulag .( Later, it was replaced by the KGB, where current Russian leader Putin received his training).

 

My father underwent a full day of intensive interrogation. Who are you? Where are you from? What are you looking for? A German speaker with Czech passport seemed highly suspicious to them but eventually they let him go, unharmed. Very fortunate for my father!

 NKVD Chief Lavrenty Beria

http://russiapedia.rt.com/files/prominent-russians/politics-and-society/lavrentiy-beria/lavrentiy-beria_3-t.jpg

 

He learned that when leaders ask for volunteers that is understood to be an order. One day, all loyal comrades were asked to volunteer to help in the war effort by volunteering in the local salt mine. My father gladly volunteered to shovel salt, as that was the best of all options.

 

The very last thing  you would want in this system was to raise suspicion. My father at one time smoked heavily and when the first warning notices came out about cancer  I asked him how he started.

 

“Before I came to the Soviet Union, I never smoked. However, we were doing well and were invited to many social gatherings with party and government officials. They would offer food, but Russian food was much to heavy and fatty ( and pork laden) for me to stomach. Then they would offer me a glass of vodka, but I had no stomach for liquor  Then they offered me their cigarettes. Now, these cigarettes contain the strongest and harshest tobacco in the world and they had a long filter to smoke them through, that’s how strong the tobacco was.  I realized that they were looking at as if I were some anti-social criminal, an enemy of the people, so I picked up the cigarette and puffed away  That’s how I learned, finally, how to smoke.” ( My father quit in his 60’s, but suffered circulatory problems that later proved fatal—perhaps that was the price he paid for his Russian smoking habit).

Belmorkanal, the popular cigarette of the period

 

http://rsmilit.narod.ru/p0000002.jpg

 

 

 

Being a Chemist in the Soviet Union

 

My father was enamored of American detergents—“I am amazed—I have no idea what materials and processes these engineers have that can produce such wonderful cleansers!”

 

When I was about seven or eight, my father would take me into the kitchen, take a pot, some flour and water, mix it, cook it, and , behold, I would have a very fine glue for gluing my school projects together This, my father explained, is how you make things work when you don’t have the right supplies and the right tools. That, he explained, is how he learned to succeed in the factories in Stalin’s worker’s paradise.

 

His Russian was very limited. One day, he walked into his supervisor with a sample of a product he had just prepared. He asked the supervisor for his opinion. “ Nichevo”, “Nothing” was the response.

 

My father turned around, tweaked the ingredients, and came back for the supervisors opinion. Again,”Nichevo”-“Nothing”!

 

And again, my father, feeling worried, turned around, tweaked the ingredients and came back again. And again, “ Nichevo”!Nothing.

 

My father was flabbergasted.”What is wrong? I don’t understand! I have come back, each time with a better product, and you still don’t like it!”.

What do you mean, ”Don’t like it? I told you “Nichevo”- there’s nothing wrong—go ahead and make it!

 

Nichevo, ничего, ( the “g” souns like a “v” to add to the confusion) is an old Russian phrase ,still in use, that means” Don’t worry. The result is much better than expected.”!

     

One day, his factory received instructions to make soap and a quota of the number and size of the bars to produce. Keep in mind that the Soviet economy was a top-down system, marked by central planning and 5-Year Plans ( that never worked). However, the raw materials needed were scarce, and there was only enough to produce half the quantity of soap that was ordered. What to do? Failure was not an option.

 

My father gave instructions to charge the ratio of chemicals and water in the process, so that the requisite quantity could be produced. Unfortunately for the would be bather, the soap was incredibly soft and crumbled in the hands ( it was mostly water). He therefore printed instructions to go along with the soap: Before using, place the soap in a warm location, such as a moderate oven, for a certain amount of time” .The excess water would evaporate and the result would be  a much  shrunken but useable bar of soap.

 

How did the accounting for these 5-Year economic plans work. An order would go out for production, my father described, for 10,000 blankets. However, there was enough raw material for only 2000 blankets. The problem was solved by creative accounting. Factory A would weave the cloth and announce that it had processed 2000 blankets. Factory B would cut the blankets to size and announce that it had processed 2000 blankets. Factory C would stitch the blankets for another 2000 , factory D would fold them for another 2000, and factory E would ship out the finished 2000 blankets. Thus 5 factories processed 2000 blankets each, for a total of 10,000 blankets processed, thereby all met the goal and brought glory and pride to the workers and the Chairman of the Party.

 

Not one stone could be turned over without the approval of a Party supervisor. One time, my uncle observed that the process of preparing a batch of chemicals was going too slowly. The factory workers would pour the raw materials into a huge vat and then leave to sit around while the chemical reactions took place on their own. He realized, quite simply, that each chemical ingredient was mired in its own level, and the necessary process was going exceedingly slowly. He called the workers back to the vat, fit them out with huge ladles, and ordered them to stir the batch. Indeed, the process took place in much less time and the order was ready well before it was due.

 

The head of the factory called him in. My uncle was sure he would be congratulated on his success and initiative.

 

“How dare you!” the factory boss demanded,” How dare you do something like this without clearing it with the Party attaché!”

 

With all this, one may ask, how did the Soviet system function. In the early years of collectivization, millions died of starvation as the farmers had no incentive to raise crops. The great breadbasket of the Ukraine, for example, became a wasteland ?

Eventually, my father explained, there was robust, private economy. Everyone was able to pull aside something, be it a few crops from the back yard that were much better than those grown by the collective, or some factory goods that were spirited out. All was available, for a price, on flourishing underground black market economy. Capitalism succeeded under the radar of communism.

     

      The benefit of no diploma

 

My father was doing very well at the factory. The supervisor called him in.” Tell me, Wilgelm Samulovich, how is it that you are so successful. You produce one new innovation after another. What’s your secret?”

 

My father looked around at the office. There were certificates on the wall, but not a single book on the shelf.

 

“Tell me,”  my father replied,” Where are you chemistry manuals and reference books?

 

”Manuals! Reference books! Why on earth do I need them. I am a diplomad graduate of the chemical engineering institute.  I know the subject, I don’t need any books!”

“ Well, you see”, my father confessed, “ I never completed any formal training. So you see, I am constantly going back to my chemistry manuals and finding new things that I never knew before.!”

 

He was proud that even had a patent on file in Russia. I asked him what happened to it. “The Germans were making their way to Stalingrad, the lines of communication with the agency responsible were cut, and I could not wait for it to arrive. I headed east.”

 

       

Books Save Lives

     

What was the one lesson about the value of reading that I appreciated them most and that I repeated to my children when they were in school.

 

My father , while still in the Stalingrad area, was confronted with a major undertaking. Harvest time was coming soon and the Kolkhozy, the collective farms, would be sending the wagons out to the fields to collect the wheat needed to feed the hundred million plus citizens of the Soviet Union, and especially to keep the Red Army fit enough to battle the Axis forces.

 

There was one simple hitch. The wagon wheels needed to be greased; otherwise, the wheels would not turn easily, and whether by horse or by tractor, the farmers would not be able to collect the harvest in time before the weather changed and the crops would be ruined. However, because of wartime priorities, all the refined petrochemicals needed to produce the right grade of grease had been requisitioned to the war effort. After all, tanks and bombers needed the grease first.

 

The challenge presented my father’s factory was to produce a reasonable grade of wagon grease with the residue from the refineries in the area that were no good for anything else.

 

My father was up to the challenge, found the ingredients, prepared the batch, and the factory began production. The grease was placed into containers ready to be shipped.

 

Then, the worst happened; some chemical reaction had gone wrong and the grease began to bubble over. The grease would soon be completely useless. My father was in a panic.

 

He communicated with chemists in the area and as far as Moscow. No one could come up with a solution, and, in their fashion, they bade him farewell, because, simply, in this, failure was not an option.

 

My father was sure that at any moment, the NKVD would be pounding on the door, to cart him off to Siberian Gulag, at best, and possible execution as an enemy of the people.

 

He did what his natural inclination told him; go to the library and read a book.

 

At the library, out of sheer curiosity, he pulled out a book on pharmaceuticals, and thumbed through it. He land on a page of remedies for stomach gas, that called for using activated charcoal, a common treatment still used today. Charcoal is heated in the presence of certain gases, and tiny pores open up in the process that increase the absorptive capacity of charcoal. Eureka!

 

He ran back to the factory, gave instructions to find all sources of charcoal. The pharmaceutical book had specified a finer quality charcoal, processed from animal bones, but in wartime Russia, he took what he could get. Within a short while, he had enough charcoal to place into the vats of grease and soon enough, the bubbling subsided. The grease was saved, the wagons wheels turned, and the harvest came in.

 

However, my father knew one small secret. Because he could only use the poor supplies and equipment on hand, the charcoal had course grains in it. Over the course of time, these  particles would grind away at the wheels and the wheels would come to a halt. By then, however, he wasn’t as worried. The Germans were on their way to Stalingrad and he was on his way to Central Asia.

 

Moral of the story—when in trouble, open a book about something you don’t know. It may save your life ( and millions of others as well).

 

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