6.3 The soviet people and the war

The Second World War was the supreme test of the Soviet system. The economy passed that test: the industrial base, partially created during the great drive of the 1930s, was large enough ultimately to produce weapons in sufficient quantity and quality to match the German war materiel. It is more difficult to draw conclusions concerning the allegiance of the Soviet people to their political system. Although the Soviet Union defeated Nazi Germany, this fact alone did not demonstrate the commitment of the peoples of the Soviet Union to communism. On the basis of reports from defectors who chose to stay in the West after the war, we may draw some conclusions. Only a rather small minority of the peoples of the Soviet Union were devoted communists, people who fought for the maintenance of the Soviet system. Another minority, perhaps a somewhat larger one, were so hostile to Stalinism that they were willing to collaborate with the Nazis. The great majority were somewhere in between: they were willing to fight for their country and obey the communists in order to defeat a beastly enemy.

We should remember that in every country that came under Nazi occupation, without exception, the Germans found collaborators. The Soviet Union was a multinational empire in which only slightly over half of the population was Russian; and here the potential for collaboration was particularly great. In territories that had come under Stalinist rule between 1939 and 1941, the people remembered the brutal policies of Sovietization, the terror and deportations carried out by the Stalinist regime. In Ukraine, in the Baltic states, in Belorussia and in Bessarabia large segments of the population, perhaps even the majority at first, welcomed the Germans as liberators. The Germans also found allies among the indigenous people of the Caucasus and among the Cossacks, people who had felt particularly mistreated by the communist rulers. Given the potential, it is surprising how little the Nazis took advantage of the centrifugal force of the nationalisms of the non-Russians. On the basis of their racialist ideology, the Nazis made distinctions among the nationalities, and treated some better than others. Estonians and Georgians, for example, were relatively high in their scale, while Slavs and Armenians were low. They organized “national legions” from non-Russian and Cossack prisoners of war and sent most of these to the West, where they performed police duties.

The Germans also used collaborators as administrators in towns and villages and organized auxiliary detachments to carry out particularly distasteful tasks, such as shooting Jewish children. How many collaborators there were is impossible to establish and, of course, the degree and nature of collaboration varied; but it is fair to say that millions of Soviet citizens to some extent collaborated. General Andrei Vlasov, one of the heroes of the battles for Moscow, was captured by the Germans in the summer of 1942. An honest but politically inexperienced man, he was willing to have his name used by the enemies of his country, presumably because of his anti-Stalinist convictions. He became the leader of the largest Russian anti-Soviet movements; by the end of the war he commanded an army of over 50,000 formed from prisoners of war. The Germans, given their ideology, distrusted this small Russian army, never equipped it properly, and did not use it in the war.

Some joined the Vlasov movement out of hatred of the Soviet regime, and others in order to escape the dreadful fate of Soviet prisoners of war in German captivity, where approximately three million men died. It is therefore not clear to what extent the Vlasov movement can be used as an example of disaffection. At the end of the war, about five million Soviet citizens found themselves in the West as a result of having been prisoners of war or slave laborers, or voluntarily having joined the retreating Germans. Churchill and Roosevelt, who had signed agreements guaranteeing repatriation, never considered that people might not want to return to their homeland. At the end of the war hundreds of thousands had to be forced to return to the Soviet Union. Many of them were directly sent to concentration camps on their return.

The Soviet regime was saved by the fact that it faced an enemy which made it impossible for the people of the Soviet Union to accept defeat. They had to fight whether they believed in the existing system or not, because the Germans gave them no option. German policy in the occupied territories was based on a racist ideology that considered the Slavs subhuman and treated them accordingly. According to this ideology, the Jews were not human at all, but vermin to be exterminated. The Germans followed a mad policy of destruction: they wanted to reduce Russians and Ukrainians to slavery and exploit the territories to benefit Germany. In order to bring this about, they wanted to destroy the intelligentsia physically. They wanted to create conditions in which many “natives” would die, and thereby create room for German colonization. When the Nazis exterminated villages in reprisal for partisan attacks they intended them to be repopulated by ethnic Germans. In the course of the war over four million men and women were taken to Germany to work as slave laborers.

From the very outset the Nazis had a special policy for Jews and communists who fell into their hands: they killed them. The Nazis commenced their genocide immediately after the invasion. The invading armies were accompanied by “special groups of the SS,” Einsatzgruppen, which rounded up and shot Jews. The German army thus became an accomplice in genocide. Within the first few months of the war a half-million were so murdered, and by the end of the war over a million Soviet Jews had fallen victim to Nazi madness.

The Germans conducted very little propaganda, for offering anything to the Soviet people would have conflicted with their goals. Later, when it became clear that the war would not end quickly with a German victory, the invaders changed their approach. But even at this time German efforts were confused and contradictory. In any case, actions spoke louder than words. The population well understood what the invaders wanted and who they were. The Germans, having made little effort to appeal to the population when victorious, could not hope to do so in a period of defeat. One is tempted to pose a counterfactual question: what if Nazi policy had been more clever and the Germans had posed as liberators? The flaw in this perspective is that had the Nazis not been so brutal, had they not been devoted to a mad ideology, they would have never commenced the war in the first place. The various aspects of Nazism could not be separated: daring, conviction of superiority, amorality, will to war and destruction, determination and ruthlessness – all these had brought victory, and all ultimately brought defeat.

But in June 1941, the Soviet leadership could not possibly have known the depth of Nazi criminality and political ineptitude. In the past the Soviet people had complied because they had no alternative: terror had eliminated all real and potential enemies. But would people now continue to obey? Stalin was immobilized for ten crucial days: he did not know how to address his subjects. When he finally did so on July 3, he did it most effectively and movingly. He addressed his listeners as brothers and sisters, and thereby foreshadowed the great change that was to take place in Soviet propaganda during the war years.

The might of German armies, enjoying victory after victory, was impressive. The enemy seemed unstoppable, and in the new circumstances it took some time for the Soviet propaganda machine to reorient itself and find its voice. However, decades of experience in mass mobilization and practice in various agitational methods all turned out to be useful. The themes of propaganda changed, but the instruments were already in place, ready to be used. Although the regime deemphasized ideology, the party as an institution retained its importance. It carried out a special recruitment drive during the war, making it easier for soldiers to enroll. It was assumed that identification with the regime would strengthen loyalty and raise the morale of the troops.

For the same reason, the Komsomol was also greatly expanded during the war: between 1940 and 1945 its membership grew from approximately ten to fifteen million. The youth organization was especially useful for the regime when operating in occupied territories. The regime had greater faith in the young, those who had been educated entirely under a communist system. Indeed, Komsomol members were the most likely to join the partisan movement.

Nor should we forget another important Soviet institution, the NKVD. Propaganda and coercion, as before, went hand in hand. This leopard did not change its spots; terror did not abate during the war. Those who had lived under German occupation, or who had become prisoners of war and escaped, suffered the consequences of NKVD suspicion, and hundreds of thousands of them were arrested. The Soviet regime punished the families of deserters. A new phenomenon during the war was the punishment of entire nations: the Volga Germans were deported immediately at the outbreak of the war. In 1943 and 1944 it was the turn of the Crimean Tatars and Muslim minorities of the Caucasus: deported to Central Asia, they lived in the most inhuman conditions. The new element in this terror was its naked racism. Every member belonging to a certain minority group was punished, regardless of class status, past behavior, or achievements. Communist party secretaries were deported as well as artists, peasants, and workers.

Despite the arrests, the number of prisoners in camps declined during the war. This happened partly because inmates were sent to the front in punishment battalions, where they fought in the most dangerous sections. The morale and heroism of these battalions were impressive: most of the soldiers did not survive. The camps were also depopulated by the extraordinary death rates: approximately a quarter of the inmates died every year. People died because of mistreatment, overwork, and undernourishment.

In wartime nothing is more important than maintaining the morale and loyalty of the armed forces. In addressing this need the Soviet Union learned from decades of experience. At first, the regime reverted to the dual command system it had developed during a previous time of crisis, the civil war. From the regimental level up, political appointees supervised regular officers. They were responsible for the loyalty of the officers and at the same time directed the political education system. The abandonment of united command, however, harmed military efficiency; once the most dangerous first year had passed, the Stalinist leadership reestablished united command. This did not mean that the political officers had no further role to play. The network of commissars, supervised by the chief political administration of the army, survived. The commissars carried out propaganda among the troops: they organized lectures, discussed the daily press with the soldiers, and participated in organizing agitational trains that brought films and theater productions to the front.

Yet another network within the army functioned to assure the loyalty of the troops – the network of security officers. Although these men wore military uniforms, they were entirely independent of the high command and reported directly to the NKVD. According to contemporary reports, these security officers were greatly disliked by regular officers.

Of course, it was much harder to control the partisan movement than the army. The German advance during the summer of 1941 was so sudden that the retreating Soviet forces did not have a chance to prepare for resistance in enemy-held territory, and the partisan movement began autonomously. One manifestation of the independence of the movement was that its propaganda, while necessarily coinciding with Soviet themes in most respects, had distinctive features. For example, Soviet propaganda never admitted past Soviet errors; but the partisans, especially in their oral approach to the population, could and did say that the errors of the past would be eliminated in a future and victorious Soviet Union.

The partisan movement had great significance: it tied down and harassed the Germans, and it projected Soviet presence in an area not under the regime’s control. It was essential for the future that the population in the occupied areas receive the Soviet point of view and live with the expectation that the previous rulers would return. The best propaganda carried out by the partisans was propaganda by example. By their very existence they showed to the Soviet population that the power of the Germans was not limitless. By their willingness to accept martyrdom, they exposed the bestial nature of the Nazi occupiers. The Soviet regime, well aware of the value of this work, did not spare scarce resources. Planes dropped pamphlets distributed by partisan propagandists; the partisans obtained small presses that enabled them to spread information they received on short-wave radio; and they carried out oral agitation. As the movement grew, the leadership set up agitational sections consisting not only of experienced agitators, but also of singers and artists who gave performances.

In regions not under enemy occupation, every branch of art was pressed into service. Novelists described the heroism of the soldiers and civilians, musicians composed patriotic songs, and graphic artists drew posters that glorified the Red Army and the Soviet people and ridiculed the enemy. It is worthwhile to examine Soviet films made during the war, not for their artistic merit, but because these show most clearly the character of the propaganda. The leadership had a special appreciation for the role of cinema and film documentaries, and filmmaking came to be fully mobilized for the war effort. During the war Soviet directors made a total of 78 films; only a handful did not deal directly or indirectly with the war. Documentaries made a specially great impression on audiences, and documentary makers received all the support they needed. In the course of the war thousands of cameramen shot 3.5 million meters of film, thereby producing a remarkable chronicle of the war. These documentaries, unlike the German ones, did not shrink from depicting the suffering imposed on civilians.

At first the main task of Soviet propagandists was to puncture the Germans’ image of invincibility in order to lessen the likelihood of collaboration. Soviet publicists overstated German losses, passed over Soviet defeats, and stressed the courageous resistance of the population. With the first important victory of the Red Army at Moscow in December 1941, the task of the propagandists became much easier. People hungered for good news. When newsreels of that important battle appeared in the theaters, people stood in line for tickets. Seeing German prisoners of war led through the streets of the capital was a wonderful experience for people who have suffered so many humiliating defeats.

The soldiers of the Red Army and the partisans went to fight for “motherland, for honor, for freedom and for Stalin.” On this list, motherland was the first and most important. The heart of appeals to the people was Russian nationalism, a love for the native land and its traditions. The resurrection of Russian nationalism had preceded the war. Historians and publicists extolled the achievements of tsarist generals and statesmen, and by dwelling on the great figures of the past conveyed the message that their contemporaries had a high tradition to live up to. By showing past Russian successes they intended to convince the audience that Russia once again would prevail.

Soviet Marxist writers, scholars, and artists did not consider their praise of generals, tsars, aristocrats, and other “exploiters of the people” incongruous. Nor did they object to an un-Marxist hero worship. In their depiction it was individual courage and leadership that mattered above all. Long gone were the days of the 1920s, when these same people focused attention only on the “masses.” To continue to do that in the age of Stalin would have been ludicrous. During the war nationalism, love for the motherland, meant the willingness to accept sacrifice and even martyrdom for the sake of victory. Film directors and novelists depicted positive heroes; partisan stories, especially concerning female partisans, provided particularly good material. The courage, self-sacrifice, and strength of Soviet women, whether working at the factories or fighting the enemy with weapons, were favorite topics of Soviet authors. By showing the courage of women, the publicists conveyed the message that men could be expected to do no less. By depicting the Germans’ mistreatment of women and children, they aroused hatred against a bestial enemy. The three best known films about partisans each had a female protagonist. Interestingly, while the first two managed to escape death – saved at the last moment by partisans or by the Red Army – the third one, Zoia Kosmodemianskaia, about whom a film was made in 1944, died a martyr’s death. In a period of victories, Soviet audiences no longer had to be spared from witnessing the execution of a partisan.

Russian nationalism was a powerful motivating force for resistance against the aggressor. At the same time, the encouragement of this nationalism was not without dangers. The half-hearted and contradictory Nazi attempts to exploit existing national hostilities and jealousies had to be countered. Soviet propagandists stressed the theme of friendship among the peoples of the union. Films would often depict a situation in which, for example, a Russian and Georgian soldier would undertake a dangerous reconnaissance mission. The success of the mission, indeed the survival of the soldiers, depended on their cooperation. At the end either the Georgian would save the life of the Russian or (more likely) vice versa. In order to harness the histories of the minorities for the Soviet cause, the film studios during the war produced one major epic for each important nationality. Some of these films projected the theme of “friendship of peoples” into the past. A historical character, let us say the seventeenth-century Ukrainian Bogdan Khmelnitskii, would explain that the well-being and happiness of the Ukrainians depended on their close cooperation with their Russian brothers.

There was one nationality, however, that was conspicuous by its absence from Soviet propaganda. Publicists failed to mention that the Nazis had a special policy toward the Jews. Soviet publicists believed that denouncing anti-Semitism was not good propaganda for home consumption. Anti-Semitism was, of course, an essential ingredient of Nazi propaganda aimed at the Soviet peoples, and the Soviet propaganda apparatus wanted to give no opportunity to the Germans to describe them as pro-Jewish. Soviet propaganda simply ignored the matter. When, during the last year of the war, the Red Army liberated some of the death camps, the newsreels showing these events never mentioned the nationality of the victims. In this respect Soviet foreign and domestic propaganda differed. The Soviet leaders, like the Nazis, greatly overestimated the power of the international Jewry to influence the decisions of Western governments. The regime mobilized prominent Jews in order to attract help from abroad.

A corollary of the rebirth of old-fashioned Russian nationalism was the officially sponsored revival of pan-Slavism. In Soviet propaganda the theme of the solidarity of the working classes of the world was superseded by the theme of the solidarity of the Slavic peoples. In the summer of 1941 an all-Slavic committee was formed in Moscow. Soviet newspapers and films paid great attention to the exploits of Yugoslav, Czech, and Polish partisans. Official slogans proclaiming Slavic brotherhood comforted the Russians and convinced them that they were not alone against the brutal Teutons.

The mirror image of the heroic Slav was the bestial German. In the first confused days of the war the propagandists’ picture of the enemy was unfocused. The Germans seemed not only cruel, but also silly and cowardly. However, this approach was soon abandoned. Not only did it conflict too obviously with reality, it did not help to inspire hatred and make people accept sacrifice. Instead, Soviet propaganda came to focus on the Germans’ brutality, on their contempt for the Slavs, and on their far-reaching plans to enslave the conquered populations. At times Soviet accounts exaggerated German atrocities, but the population had suffered at the hands of the Germans and was predisposed to believe the worst. Indeed, German behavior was such that a simple and truthful description was enough. Reality was often so bad that propaganda could not surpass it. The propagandists did not make distinctions among Germans. There was no room in Soviet propaganda for the good German. This one-dimensional portrayal of the Germans did not change even when the Red Army was marching forward victoriously. Soviet propaganda even projected the wickedness of the Germans into the past in an almost racist fashion. A 1945 Soviet film, for example, depicted Volga Germans as determined enemies of Soviet power already in 1918. At a time when the descendants of these people had been deported from their homes, such a film was particularly reprehensible.

The stress on Russian nationalism was accompanied by a deemphasis on the revolutionary and communist nature of the regime. Once the life-and-death struggle against Nazism was under way, it was important to maintain national unity; this was clearly no time to talk about world revolution. Not only did internationalist communism make poor propaganda for home consumption, it also would have endangered the precious alliance with Great Britain and the United States. In 1943 the Soviet Union dissolved the Comintern. It also dropped the International as its anthem and instead adopted a new one, with insipid music and text.

The propagandists had to draw a delicate line. On the one hand it was essential not to demoralize the communist activists by repudiating the past, but on the other it was self-evident that for the great bulk of the Russian people it was the defense of the motherland, not the defense of the communist system, that mattered. Soviet propagandists handled the task with skill. They depicted the country’s past and future in such a way as to allow people of different political persuasions to draw different conclusions. Soviet newspapers, novels, and films repeatedly contrasted the happy life of the people before the war with the terrible present. The writers, however, remained vague about the nature of that happy life. The soldiers fought under the Red banner; they went to battle “for Stalin”; the Soviet people continued to celebrate holidays such as the anniversary of the October revolution and May Day; they listened to unceasing glorification of the founder of the Soviet state, Lenin. And, of course, the leaders of the regime apologized for nothing.

A temporary abandonment of antireligious propaganda accompanied the deemphasis of communism. If tsars, generals, and aristocrats could be held up as examples to follow, there was no reason why churchmen should be excluded. The glorification of the Russian past helped the revival of the church. After all, the Orthodox Church was an inseparable part of Russian history. The motives for abandoning the persecution of the church are easy to see. The Soviet leaders wanted to prevent the Germans from posing as the defenders of religion, and they wanted to gain the good will of the democratic West; but most importantly, they wanted the help of the church in the great national effort. The state allowed the printing of religious books; it reopened churches; radio Moscow started to broadcast religious hours. The church responded warmly: the Orthodox leaders visited Stalin in the Kremlin and gave their blessings to the war effort.

The leaders of the regime well understood the hostility of the Russian people to antireligious policies and the necessity for concessions. They also knew that the overwhelming majority of the peasants deeply resented the collective farms. In this matter, however, it was far more difficult to retreat. Even if the creators of the system had been willing to sacrifice the collective farms, which is questionable, such a move in the short run would have led to enormous confusion. The Soviet leaders, good politicians that they were, well understood this weakness in their position. They braced themselves for an attack, because they assumed that the enemy would exploit their weakness. But the attack never came; for the Germans, instead of identifying themselves with the aspirations of the peasants, decided to exploit the collective farms for their own purposes. They, too, found it easier to compel the collectives to provide food than to force individual peasants. Partisan propaganda took advantage of the failure of the Germans. The partisans encouraged the belief that after the victorious conclusion of the war the farms would be dissolved. It is impossible to establish to what extent this aspect of partisan propaganda was centrally planned. Most likely the partisans used their independence to tell the peasants what the peasants wanted to hear. As the war was drawing to a victorious conclusion, the Russian people expected “good things” to happen, even if such expectations were unrealistic and sometimes even mutually exclusive.

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