People under communism; Literature to order, part two

It's a good book written simply and you feel that she put her heart in it. Can't you see what it's costing me. Do you mean to say that you justify what she's done. I regret the separation more than I can say. If I had realized what was happening I would have warned you long ago. Her on me. You all got puddle and I lived with you for eight years. Had she been older or less attractive you would long since have noticed that she was falling so far behind in life that already there was nothing for you to talk about. You were absorbed in the big job you were doing. That was fine but you forgot that alongside of you was a person badly in need of your friendship and support. And then there's engineer turned up who was able to give her this support. Pointing out to her just what she needed. Naturally all her affection became centered on him. Maybe you'd like me to go hang myself Your the one who began this conversation. I wouldn't want your relationship to become more complicated. She was right in leaving you but I doubt that it would have happened if she had lived a fuller life with you. Then she would have seen you in a different light. Each one of us bears marks of the past. The spiritual rust that has been eating into the human race for thousands of years as a Marxist you will know that with the downfall of the matriarchy

all laws and privileges and social conventions uphill the domination of the male. This has left deep traces on human psychology. We make fine communist speeches about the new relationship between husband and wife but without noticing it we often build our family lives almost after the pattern of our forefathers. Is it possible to build a true Soviet family without social equality common interest and mutual respect. What right have we to allow even a small percentage of our women to lag behind. Our program continues following a 10 second pause for station identification. When the.

Current. Entered. You are listening to people under communism a transcribed series of programs based on documented evidence and expert knowledge about the power and intentions of the Soviet Union. Materials for this program have been supplied by Dr Ernest Simmons chairman of the department of Slavic languages at Columbia University and professor of Russian literature in his Russian Institute. In N.. Here is Dr. Simmons to continue with literature or to order. Let us take another example of the way Soviet fiction attempts to reveal the manner in which the party interferes in the personal lives of its members who in their

behavior fall slightly below the communist pattern of absolute perfection. The victim in this case is list the POB the hero of crazy like another early a novel of Parnell written shortly after the war ended it was widely popular but created a great deal of critical controversy. Let's depart is the communist director of a factory a human dynamo who worships work and inspires his subordinates to perform fantastic feats of labor but blemishes appear in the white marble radiance of his communist virtue. Stubbornness and a conviction of his own superiority over the collective faults which lead him to scorn the organized efforts of whose jet skin head of the factory trade union committee as those of a busy body. Accordingly he is called up by Secretary of the district committee of the party. Hear how these two men

talk together. We have to talk things over just about every set out here. We have to talk about life and work and the soul. And there is other things of the kind we have to talk about was jets going to. So that's it. Who's got to apologize to whom. I too was judged you know who's just skin to me. We didn't kiss when we make up. I can't move a step I declare without having was judged and cast in my teeth no matter where we turn we come to the question of man of our Soviet Man of the builder and defender of our future. As to general every Soviet citizen comes under this heading including those jets. The funny thing is that nothing is going on between was just skin and me. It's simply a case of mutual lack of understanding arising out of compatibility of character and taste. I can't imagine that anything can be done about this. This thing that you call lack of understanding takes different forms they are all intolerable to the party and no matter how incompatible characters and tastes may be a basis

exists on which two communists can always get together. This basis is their membership in the party and their duty to it. Nobody cannot direct you to conceive a liking for those jets can but it considers it your duty to create normal conditions for his work. I suppose I have his office done up in the imitation model style he's so fond of. Will that improve his state of mind the party organization cannot go into the question of texts and characters all of this is too touchy and shaky a matter but the body organization can and must take care of a comrade. There will have to live in peace with a man who by the will of the workers is to work by our side and who has nothing in his record against him anywhere. We live in peace with him. Stereotyped characters and uniformity of the maintained in Soviet

literature. But the examples quoted could be repeated with deadly sameness for many post lost Soviet novels. Well by now a formidable control apparatus has been developed in the Soviet Union to enable the party to carry out its declared intentions of using literature for its own purposes. Since the whole manufacturing process of the printed word paper presses publishing houses distribution is ultimately under government control. The party has an economic stranglehold on the whole output and content of literature. The propaganda line that determines the broad direction of literary content is usually initiated in the Polit Bureau announced in the resolutions of the Central Committee which have almost the force of law lower down in the hierarchy of controls though capable of bringing more immediate pressure to bear on authors. Is the Union of Soviet

writers though communist do not predominate in the membership of the Union. They do occupy most of the key posts and control it. Authors are encouraged to read their works in progress to relevant committees of the Union and then the critical emphasis is on whether the writer has embodied in his work the true spirit of the party line. A further check takes place in the editorial offices of the so-called think magazines for the best literature or even novels or serials appears first in these publications. Their editorial boards in turn are made up largely of communists and one of their principal functions is to pass on the ideological correctness of manuscripts submitted to them. The same is true of the editorial boards of the huge government publishing firms. Finally all the literary work that appears in print must receive the approval of glob lit the official government censorship office. Of course

nothing even verging on the pornographic or an excessively Frank treatment of the theme of love or a concentration on the crime detective story elements for their own sake would survive. If anyone dared to submit it the moral standards of this control system. But should a literary work pass safely through this formidable array of censors and be published with some undetected ideological impurity which occasionally happens it is almost certain to be pounced upon by reviewers. And if there is any hesitation to review the work which is sometimes the case or if reviewers have failed to criticize offending ideological faults and officially inspired statement appears in the press to set matters a right. This usually elicits recantations all around from the author. Officials of the union of Wright is the editorial head of the

responsible magazine our publishing house and often from the editor of the publication in which the airing review appeared. It is safe to say that few of the notable artistic works of Soviet literature of the past and there have been some very fine ones would be officially acceptable if offered for publication in this postwar period of rigid regimentation. When they are occasionally reprinted textual changes are introduced to bring them up to date ideologically. Clearly in the scheme of things the literary artist would appear to have no more lofty duty than that of slavish Lee following the commands of the party. No doubt a few sincerely dedicated communist writers except controls is an article of faith. In no sense inhibiting their artistic functioning and perhaps out of such faith can

come inspired genuine art in which ideological limitations and controls cease to be impediments to the creative process. Because they do not exist as such for the artist. The act of artistic creation becomes an act of faith in the system that controls it. But for the real Soviet literary artist who lacks this communist faith and there must be many is normally free ranging mind and imagination must stumble in constant pain and a sense of self violation in a compulsive suffocating atmosphere of creation. It will be readily understood that such inclusive and rigid controls of literature in a totalitarian state require an omniscient authority as an infallible point of reference for both creative writers and critics. Naturally Stalin has been

readily and apparently uncomplainingly pressed into service. He's trifling in spece published comments on literature or have been diligently collected and used again and again by critics appropriately and inappropriately to illuminate the obvious in the recent party line in literature. Nevertheless it should be added that Stalin's personal decisions behind the scenes not recorded though often hinted at have probably played a significant part in the direction of literatura music in the theatre since 1930. Speaking of the fact not altogether certain that Stalin was responsible for the description of the writer as an engineer of the human soul one a Soviet critic writes. Indeed how deep is the love and respect for man in the writer's labor contained in this famous definition by studying only he the educator of the media

the mentor of the mentors for whom there is nothing more precious on earth than man could have defined the significance of the writer in the new society in terms so full of love and wisdom. In fact the sublimated image of an officially propagandized and deified Stalin has become the model of many positive heroes of Soviet post-war fiction. Or he will appear in these novels directly or in directly as the chief inspiration of the hero or of the work at hand and in scenes situations are conversations that simply defy reality. Yet it is clear that readers sullenly expected to accept these visitations as real. For example in the enormously popular recent novel far from Moscow a mere telephone conversation with Stalin has miraculous results. Incidentally telephone conversations with Stalin

have become a persistent motif in post-war Soviet picture. As jive describes a conference of Engineers with the Moscow general on Bures D's plan for an oil pipeline in Siberia the general reports to the conference that he is just phoned Stalin and declared as Comrade Stalin has approved the project and said that he regards the pipeline construction as a big battle with its own strategy. This simple comment of the great man has the desired socialist realistic effect. At the conference the novelist writes. But man of sulkin but is D and jumped up on a single impulse. Alexei cups could hear his heart hammering loudly. We shan't disgrace our styles comrade shall we. Piece of advice the young man. Alexei's agitated face had arrested his

attention. We shall not comrade representative Alexei rapped out crisply. A more extraordinary use of this national father image is to be found in PR to the public goes novel happiness where Stalin appears in person. This work awarded a Stalin prize was one of the first popular postwar novels to embody the new party line in literature the hero a colonel but a PIO of a much Moon did Red Army officer is invalid out of the forces shortly before the Yalta Conference. War weary with one leg gone to bear killer. What a pile of feels. His life is over and he goes to the warm climate of the Crimea to eke out his day. He finds the region ravaged by the war and most of the people thoroughly demoralized quickly vote a pious allows himself to be drawn into the efforts of reconstruction as a party propagandists. Despite his illness he performs heroic leaders

and inspires the disconsolate people by devising an assault technique in Army fashion on the reconstruction problem of the devastated collective farms in the region. The moral of the novel is that the war weary world of piety can find happiness only in the collective efforts of the people. While Stalin is at the famous conference of the big three he is fully informed of the tremendous leap is a vote of piety and summons. Listen how the novelist describes the meeting in the garden at Yalta. What a PIO followed his new guide. They turned the corner of the house past the sentry then vote a pious companion halted and so did he. The man looked at him uncertainly and glanced aside and at that moment what a pious heard a voice it was impossible not to recognize. It's this way comrade but a poet. Don't be shy. But what a

pious did not stir. He could not. He saw Stalin. Stalin wearing a light spring tunic and cap was talking to an old gardener standing by a vine that hung against the wall looking at what a pile he was still explaining something to the man that apparently interested them both deeply. Try this method. Don't be afraid. Stalin said. I've tested it myself it won't let you down the garden looked at the speaker with the wilted and at the same time childlike admiration. Somehow one's afraid to go against science Comrade Stalin in the CSAs day we had big experts here but they never tried going to such lengths. Stalin replied. There were plenty of things they didn't try in this day. People didn't grow up properly either. But what of it. We shouldn't follow the old

ways. Be bolder in your experiments. Grapes and lemons are needed in other parts of the country besides jaws. It's the climate Comrade Stalin. It puts a full stop to anything like this. Look cold tender and delicate The plant is. How could it ever stand a frost. The governor said indicating the vine against the wall train it to stand climate make it Hardy Don't be afraid. You and I as Southern is and still we don't feel too bad in the north. Stalin concluded coming forward to meet what a pirate. What a pirate was startled to see that he was coming to greet him with outstretched hands and an all embracing smile. They tell me you are leading the collective farm hereabouts to the assault. Very interesting idea to it perhaps not quite right in my opinion. Stalin shook hands and still holding but a PIO led him towards the little table in wicker

chairs one of which was occupied by Mikhailovich Molotov. Every now and again one or another of the diplomatic staff approached him and whispered something in his ear and he would reply in an undertone. His hands were busy with the papers on the table before him. He shrugged his shoulders with an apologetic smile as though excusing himself for being busy. Stalin was unbelievably calm at the moment he appeared to be interested in what a pious life more than an anything else in the world except maybe the faintly blue sky Warman languidly close to the sea at which he glanced from time to time with a kindly twinkle in his eye. What a pious thought to himself that Stalin had not aged at all since he had seen him last at the parade on November 7th 1941. But he had changed markedly in another way. His face which was familiar to him down to the smallest wrinkled had acquired new and

impressive features which brought a pious rejoice to notice Stalin's countenance was bound to Walter because the people looked into it as they would into a mirror in which they saw themselves reflected and they the people had undergone a change that endowed them with a greater Majesty. They have been telling me about you. Stalin began at once and to my mind you have done right in choosing to work in the country. Unfortunately we still have many people who prefer being bureaucrats in Moscow to taking charge of affairs in the provinces. He glanced at Molotov who smiled as though he knew to whom these words refer. Yes there are still people of that time Stalin continued but their day is nearly over.

Tell us what you consider the most urgent needs. Don't be bashful. Speak up. Stalin's settled himself more comfortably in his armchair and reached for a cigarette. For some reason he hadn't his pipe. People said what a pirate. And in the first place capable clever people Comrade Stalin Stalin chuckled and glanced at Molotov. Clever people are needed everywhere remarked with a smile. Clever people have to be made comrade Colonel Stalin said in a brisk tone with a note of command in it. You have to make them yourself on the spot without waiting for them to be showered down on your heads from Moscow. What do you think. Who said that good workers are born only in Moscow. Of course they grow here as well but very slowly and the need is urgent and the place is pretty bare. What a pile of replied feeling that he could not count on

Stalin's support in this. And how are you getting on yourself. Not finding things so easy yeah. Stalin asked with a quick side glance as if he were asking not so much because he wanted to know what must have been already known to him but to hear the tone of the answer no. Things aren't too easy. Well it's a good thing to hear you say so plainly. Sometimes one asks how up fellows getting on and he says fine and then it turns out that he doesn't get a dinner every day. Guess things aren't easy yet but you can tell the collective farmers that soon everything will take a turn for the better. The party is going to tackle and solve the food problems with the same energy that it once applied to the problems of industrialization. We shall do everything so that people may live well better than before the wall. Tell us about the local people who they

are and where they come from and what they're doing. What a pile of pondered a moment. Choosing the best person to start with but evidently the Stalin thought he was searching for a way to formulate his answer and a look of displeasure came into his face. Don't search for formulas. Give us real life sketches of people. We'll manage with the formulating ourselves. Then bought a playa told him eagerly about the people he knew well. Victor got an A symbolic media book done about with her children sanatorium on your stoop and the progeny of disco couple goats of and all those with whom we had shared dreams of the future. And you told us you were in sad need of people said mullet up in surprise. Why you've got a regular training ground there will be coming to borrow a few people from you. Stalin was silent for a long while lighting a cigarette and puffing at it.

If people like these put me a B.S. goes we're given the power he said softly as though to himself. We get moving at a good pace or that girl is stupid. They hate critter the Germans alone would make life worth living. Provided of course the power properly directed. You want to take care of symbolic stand up for him. Restless old fellows like that are badly needed. The young people look up to them. Well then who else have you got. And so he went on asking pondering on things suddenly drawing into himself as though comparing what he had just heard with something heard earlier determining where the truth lay. Then livening up delightedly with every new name when what appliable told him of how he got it so was longing to be back working in grain and saw wheat fields stretching away to the horizon in his dreams.

Stalin got to his feet and paced up and down deep in thought. What a pile of get up to wondering whether he should remain standing by the table or follow Stalin to set his doubts at rest. Sit where you are Comrade Stalin likes to walk up and down while he's thinking things over. As he returned to the table Stalin said this longing for the grain fields is good. It's a desire for the main thing. Still grapes figs and apples are also necessities. You can tell him tell this good sob. He's an Army man. He'll understand that you are like this second echelon. The Reserves once we've solved the grain problem. We'll consider your case suddenly remembering his talk with the gardener. He grew animated. This garden now he's been working here for 45 years and he's still afraid of science. This

won't grow he says. And that won't do in Pushkin's day egg plants used to be brought from Greece to Odessa is a rarity. We started to grow tomatoes in more months 15 years ago grapes lemons in figs have to be pushed on northwards too. We were told that cotton could never thrive in the combine and in the Ukraine and it did. The whole idea is you must really want a thing and put your shoulder to the wheel and get it. You can tell him this Stalin repeated. What was it he said. This God saw that he saw grain in his dreams. Yes he said I see myself reaping wheat in my dreams I wake up and my shoulders ache with work and there's a smell of fresh grain in the room. Well then maybe go to a lot to be transferred to wheat

growing in the steps. After all a Stalin suddenly suggested Russian is born to grow brain. Think it over. Talk to your top men. And now who else have you got there to tell us about. Deeply moved by a conversation that had set his soul a glow. What a pile of thrust his hand into his overcoat pocket and pulled out together with his handkerchief. The bunch of snowdrops picked that morning. They dropped on the ground and the guide who had conducted him here and who was near at hand picked them up. What a pyre put them back in his pocket. Stalin watched him with curiosity as far as I know pockets aren't made for keeping flowers in he said with conviction. Give them to me and this is what we'll do with them. And he added them to the flowers arranged in the wide shallow bowl on the table. But perhaps you meant them for some one but a pie of told him about Lou

and how she had been dreaming of giving snowdrops to Stalin when he drove past. And now her dream had come true.