The Great Terror

The Stalin method of argument, long prevalent in the Soviet Union, can be traced as early as his first articles in 1905. Its particular marks are expressions like “as is well known” (Itak izvestno), used in lieu of proof to give weight to some highly controversial assertion, and “it is not accidental” (ne sluchayno), used to assert a connection between two events when no evidence, and no likelihood, of such a connection exists. These and similar expressions became the staple of Soviet speeches in Stalin’s time, and after.

Such phrases are extraordinarily illustrative and significant. A statement like “As is well known, Trotskyites are Nazi agents” is difficult to object to in an authoritarian State, while the idea that nothing is accidental, a strictly paranoid formulation, makes it possible to construe every fault and weakness as part of a conscious plot.

This attitude accords with Stalin’s notoriously suspicious nature. Khrushchev tells us:

… Stalin was a very distrustful man, sickly suspicious; we knew this from our work with him. He could look at a man and say: “Why are your eyes so shifty today?” or “Why are you turning so much today and avoiding looking me directly in the eyes?” The sickly suspicion created in him a general distrust even toward eminent Party workers whom he had known for years. Everywhere and in everything he saw “enemies,” “double-dealers” and “spies.”¹⁰

A result of this attitude was that he almost never let down his guard. In politics, particularly in those of the sharpest style, this was to prove an excellent tactical principle.

We cannot know how far Stalin really cherished the principles he professed. Khrushchev, in his Secret Speech of February 1956, concluded a series of appalling revelations of terror by remarking of them that

Stalin was convinced that it was necessary for the defense of the interests of the working class against the plotting of the enemies and against the attack of the imperialist camp. He saw this from the position of the working class, the interests of the working people, the interests of the victory of Socialism and Communism. We cannot say that these were the deeds of a giddy despot. He considered that this should be done in the interests of the Party, of the working masses, in the name of defense of the revolution’s gains. In this lies the whole tragedy.

Most people would not perhaps regard it as the whole tragedy. But, more to our point, there is no way of telling what Stalin’s true motivation was. The fact that to all appearances he took the view attributed to him by Khrushchev does not prove that he held it sincerely. Whether he consciously thought of the state of things he created and found good as the Socialism taught in his youth, or whether he saw it as an autocracy suitable to his own aims and to Russian reality, we cannot say.

A Soviet Air Force expert who had attended a number of meetings with the top Soviet leadership in connection with plans for an intercontinental rocket mentions Stalin saying that the project would make it “easier for us to talk to the great shopkeeper Harry Truman and keep him pinned down where we want him,” but then turning to him with a curious remark: “You see, we live in an insane epoch.”¹¹

None of the Soviet leaders of the time was ever reported as expressing in private anything but a straightforward and cynically put desire to crush the West. This philosophical comment certainly goes deeper. Whether it represents Stalin’s real thinking and self-justification, or is a sign of that sensitivity to the attitude of others occasionally reported of him, cannot be guessed.

When Litvinov was discarded in 1947, he used to meet regularly with his old friend Surits, another of the rare survivors of the old Soviet diplomatic service. They frequently discussed Stalin. They both agreed that he was a great man in many ways. But he was unpredictable. And he was stubborn, refusing to consider facts which did not correspond to his wishes. He imagined, they thought, that he was serving the people. But he did not know the people and did not wish to know them, preferring the abstract idea “the People,” made up to his own liking.¹²

For what it is worth, the evidence seems to be that Stalin really believed that the abolition of incomes from capital was the sole necessary principle of social morality, excusing any other action whatever. Djilas’s summary is perhaps correct: “All in all, Stalin was a monster who, while adhering to abstract, absolute and fundamentally utopian ideas, in practice had no criterion but success—and this meant violence, and physical and spiritual extermination.”¹³

Except for the priceless, though limited, light thrown on it by Stalin’s daughter’s books, the more personal side of his character must remain to a large degree enigmatic.