LETTER TO ALLEN DULLES FROM WILLIAM BENTON
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Document Creation Date:
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Publication Date:
February 22, 1956
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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
342 MADISON AVENUE
SUITE 702
NEW YORK 171 N.Y
WILLIAM BENTON
PUBLISHER & CHAIRMAN
February 22, 1956
Dear Allen:
I know I have sent you my forthcoming piece
in the Britannica YEAR BOOK, to be published on March 6.
But I do not know that I had. pointed out to you that
I express a difference of opinion with you, which I
am marking in the attached. preprint.
But I most earnestly hope that you are right
and I am wrong.
Beardsley Ruml and the Fund for the Advance-
ment of Education have sent out many thousands of copies
of this article and I am receiving a quite astonishing
response. Indeed I have had to agree to speak at the
banquet of the Association of Higher Education in Chicago,
on larch 6, and I only agreed to do so when the Executive
Secretary of the Association thoroughly understood that
I would raise particular hell with American educational
practices and standards. Don't you have something that
you would like to have me say on behalf of us both?
Very sincerely yours,
Mr, Allen Dulles, Director
Central Intelligence Agency
Washington, D. C.
T17@~ z2C) ~ 5 .
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STAT
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MEMORANDUM FOR: MR. DtI
You asked that these letters from Mr. Benton
be returned to you so you can dictate a reply.
You will note that Mr. Benton asks for any
comments you care to have him make on your behalf
in a speech he is giving on March 6th.
FNS
27 Feb 56
(DATE)
FORM NO. I~I REPLACES FORM 10.101
1 AUG 54 WHICH MAY BE USED.
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William Benton Reports on
the Voice of the Kremlin
Some first-hand observations
on red propaganda techniques
within the U.S.S.R. and Satellites
WILLIAM BENTON, publisher of Encyclopedia Britannica, spent part of
the autumn of 1955 visiting the Soviet Union, Poland, Hungary and
Czechoslovakia, accompanied by his wife and 13-year-old son John, and
also with a Russian-speaking assistant and interpreter. The Bentons are
believed to be the first such family group from the West to be given visitors'
visas for Russia since before World War II.
Mr. Benton sought to observe and study some of the methods used by
the Communists to indoctrinate the Russian people and others under their
control. To such a study, the editors of Britannica feel that he brought
unique qualifications. He has spent the 35 years of his adult life in the
fields of communications, education and public service. He founded a
major advertising agency, Benton & Bowles, and retired from it in 1936,
at age 36. He served as a part-time officer of The University of Chicago
for eight years. He became U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for Public
Affairs in 1945, and organized America's first peacetime program of in-
ternational information, including the launching of the Voice of America
and its Russian-language broadcasts. He was one of the founders of
UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organiza-
tion) and served as chairman of two U.S. delegations at UNESCO con-
ferences. In 1948, he headed the U.S. delegation to the U.N. Conference
on Freedom of Information.
As United States senator from Connecticut from 1949 to 1953, one of
his early major proposals was that the United States develop what he
called a "Marshall Plan of Ideas."
When Britannica's editors invited Mr. Benton to write a report on
Russian propaganda and indoctrination techniques, a major but little
understood arm of Soviet policy, he accepted with the following caveat:
"First, I shall do all I can to assemble and study available data, both in
the United States and Great Britain. Then I shall visit Russia and some
of the satellites. However, no one, no matter how well prepared, can tackle
this subject and expect to produce a rounded and balanced report which
meets the high standard of scholarly accuracy Britannica seeks. For ex-
ample, there is no way of checking the reliability of information and statis-
tics given by Communist government officials and publications. Even
riskier than the judgment of such material is the assessment of public atti-
tudes and opinion. This latter effort is beset with pitfalls even in western
countries and under the best conditions. In Russia, it is impossible for a
foreigner to do better than hazard guesses. Mine I hope will be informed
guesses, even educated guesses, but manifestly no visitor can know for sure
what is the reaction of a kolkhoz manager to the Soviet propaganda, or even
of a youngster in a tekhnikum.
"Western diplomats stationed behind the Iron Curtain, who for years
have studied the unfolding techniques of the Communists, differ on the
depth and the breadth of Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist indoctrination. Some
experts think the degree of loyalty to Communism varies in inverse ratio to
the privileges and economic status of the individual; e.g., the higher the
educational and economic level, the greater the degree of loyalty. Experts
will argue on both sides of such a question as the attitudes of the Poles
towards the Russians and how these attitudes will affect the amount of
pressure the Polish people will stand before breaking into open revolt. Yet
it is imperative on hundreds of similar questions that we reach the best
judgment we can. Thus although I shall approach the writing of this
report with humility, I shall submit it for publication with no apology."-
EDITORS' NOTE.
F OR thirty-eight years, ever since the Revolution of October
1917, the Kremlin has been conducting the most stupendous
experiment in psychological manipulation ever attempted-with
the entire population of the Soviet Union as subjects.
There is a century of history behind the experiment. For
Communism is itself the child of propaganda. Communism be-
gan as propaganda and its growth is inconceivable without prop-
aganda. Modern Communism was launched by a pamphlet, The
Communist Manifesto, one of the most striking pieces of politi-
cal pamphleteering in history.. The Manifesto was published in
1848 by two German social theorists, Karl Marx and Friedrich
Engels. For the next half century the ideas of Marx and Engels
were kept alive, with little or no organization, backing or sup-
port, by the propaganda of their disciples. Marx and Engels
had not concerned themselves seriously with problems of or-
ganization, strategy or tactics. They dealt most earnestly with
ideas. Ideas are the weapons of propaganda.
On Nov. 7, 1955, on Red Square at the great annual celebra-
tion of the anniversary of the Revolution, I heard the speaker
of the day, Lazar Kaganovich, one of the II members of the
Presidium, shout:
"Revolutionary ideas know no frontiers; they travel through-
out the world without visas and fingerprints. When Marx and
Engels issued the `Manifesto of the Communist Party' there
were no radios, no telephones, no aeroplanes. But the immortal
ideas of Marx and Engels penetrated into all corners of the
world and into the consciousness of the working masses of all
countries of the globe. All the more so in the 20th century, the
great ideas of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin, which have
gripped the world, have been and will be victorious. . . It is
precisely the strength of these ideas which explains the fact
that in October, 1917, our party, which had only 240,000 people
-a drop in the sea of the people-led millions of workers and
peasants to storm capitalism, to defeat capitalism and the land-
owners."
Nikita S. Khrushchev put this more succinctly in his visit
to Burma in Dec. 1955. He said, "Ideas can't be stopped by
rifles."
Nicolai Lenin, a Russian disciple of Marx and Engels, who
founded the Communist Party as we know it today, and who
conceived it as a tightly knit, strongly disciplined, conspiratorial
body, wrote as far back as 1905: "Propaganda is of crucial im-
portance for the eventual triumph of the Party." A professional
revolutionary, agitator and organizer, he thought of propaganda
as the chief instrument by which he could attain his goals. He
himself was a propaganda genius.
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WILLIAM BENTON, MRS. BENTON AND JOHN in Moscow. Mrs. Benton had
suffered a leg fracture several weeks before their departure
During the long years of his exile from Russia, before his
dramatic return in 1917, he was forging a party around himself.
For this party he developed a revolutionary doctrine. Lenin's
only weapons-during this period were the written and spoken
word. He had no other way to impose his ideas on anyone.
Through his skill as a debater, his deftness with the pen, which
found expression in Iskra ("Spark"), a newspaper he published,
and through his output of polemical pamphlets, he rose to the
leadership of the revolutionary movement which destroyed the
Czars and achieved supreme and absolute power in Russia.
"Without a revolutionary theory there can be no revolution-
ary movement," Lenin said. Thus Communist Party leaders
have been theoreticians as well as men of action; they have
sought to persuade the Russian people and the world that Com-
munist doctrine is the only means to salvation.
While Lenin perceived that theory could serve as a formidable
striking weapon against his enemies, he also recognized theory
as an instrument of discipline within the Party itself. Those
who hold control of the complex theory of the Party also con-
trol the interpretation of that theory, and thus they control the
policies and actions carried out under the theory. Acceptance of
the basic Party dogma by the members winds up as total con-
formity and obedience.
Lenin continuously stressed the primary role of propaganda
and agitation as instruments to win intellectual converts and to
prepare the masses for the Revolution. In his pamphlet of 1901,
Where to Begin, he emphasized the role of propaganda. In 19o2,
in What Is to Be Done, he said: "We must go among all people
as theoreticians, as propagandists, as agitators and as organizers
... the principal thing, of course, is propaganda and agitation
among all strata of the people." The Party itself, as the most
thoroughly indoctrinated and disciplined element in the popula-
tion, was to serve, in Lenin's words, as "teacher, leader and
guide" of the masses.
The success of the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917,
to Lenin, was due to the Party's ability "to combine
persuasion." This
tainly force has been a major factor in most historic crises-
and not least in the fall of Czarist Russia. It was the degree of
emphasis on persuasion, however, and its deliberate and sys-
tematic character, that was the distinctive factor in the success
of the Oct. 1917 Revolution.
The combination of coercion with persuasion has remai::led
the hallmark of the Soviet rule ever since 1917. Seizure of the
power of government by the Communists did not obviate their
need for propaganda; on the contrary it placed an even higher
premium on it. In order to consolidate the victory of the Revo-
lution, the deeply ingrained habits and attitudes of whole popu-
lations had to be eradicated and replaced with new ones; and
that could not be done merely by force and coercion. Lenin
said that the Communist regime must be prepared to sacrifice
two whole generations. He anticipated the thorough indoctrina-
tion of the third. Today, it is Lenin's third generation that is
surging through to power.
Joseph Stalin, first editor of Pravda, who followed Lenin at
the helm of the Communist Party, subscribed fully to Lenin's
doctrines in the field of propaganda. Although Stalin's regime
became notorious for its repressive measures and its use of
terror, Stalin pursued the path of persuasion as relentlessly as
he conducted his purges. In his lection on "The Foundation of
Leninism," in 1924, Stalin said, "The masses, likewise the rnil-
lionfold masses, must come to understand this need (for the
overthrow of the old order) . . . Our task is to see that the
masses shall be provided with opportunities for acquiring such
an understanding." At the 18th Congress of the Communist
Party in 1939 Stalin said that political leadership is "the ability
to convince the masses of the correctness of the Party's pol-
icy ... If our Party propaganda for some reason goes lame ., . .
then our entire State and Party work must inevitably languish."
These views of Lenin and Stalin, via Marx and Engels, must
be thoroughly comprehended by anyone who wishes to achieve
even a rudimentary comprehension of the Russia which is per-
haps today more obscure, more the riddle and the enigma and
the mystery, than at any time since 1917.
The New Phase
When Stalin died in 1953 his heirs to power, who had been
hand-picked by him as members of the Politburo (now called
the Presidium), undertook to rule as a collec':.ive leadership, at
least temporarily. They began to exhibit a new style of tactics,
somewhat more flexible, somewhat less harsh. than Stalin's. In
the field of propaganda this partly took the form of a modera-
tion in the "hate the West" and "hate America" themes. This
intensive campaign, which portrayed the United States as a
"warmonger," is perhaps a noteworthy example of the fact that
Communist propaganda doesn't always work. The Russian peo-
ple don't like war any more than do the American people. They
didn't like the sound of "warmongering America." This gave
them agonizing thoughts of war. They greatly preferred Khrush-
chev's "spirit of Geneva" which seemed to promise peace.
Post-Stalin propaganda conceded that there was some evi-
dence of progress in the West. For example, it said, in effect,
"Comrades, let us not be arrogant; we can learn something
about productivity from the West." It loosened slightly the
reins on Soviet writers and artists. It permitted a limited in-
crease in the admission behind the Iron Curtain of western visi-
tors of whom I became one. It actually encouraged Soviet "mis-
sions" or "exchanges" sent to the West.
Because these developments seemed startling, by contrast with
the years since V-J Day, the western press described them and
dramatized them thoroughly. This had the temporary effect of
and obscuring the elemental fact that (r) the aim, (2) the scale
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essentially unchanged. activity can be fined for its
The aim of Communist propaganda, internationally, is to ad-, ordinated to Communist dogma.
vance the Communist cause throughout the world, and thus to
swell the power of the Soviet Union. Gigantic though this inter-
national effort is, it is small compared with the effort that goes
into the propaganda at home in the Soviet Union and among the
peoples of the satellite countries. In this article I do not at-
tempt to deal with Communist propaganda world-wide,. though
the international impact of Soviet propaganda is enormous, as
I first learned in my service as Assistant Secretary of State
when I was responsible for combatting Russian propaganda
throughout the world.
This article will deal with some aspects of the Communist
home propaganda, with some of the techniques of indoctrination
and with their impact. The home propaganda is a real "satura-
tion program," dominating every aspect of Soviet life. It is
employed on a massive scale, previously unknown in history. At
its simplest level, it is used to mobilize the energies of the
people for the accomplishment of concrete tasks, such as gath-
ering the harvest or raising labour productivity. Such propa-
ganda at its most useful level isn't too unlike our efforts to
promote highway safety or to recruit more nurses. At its best at
this level the message the Soviet government projects to its
own people is no more than any government might reasonably
seek: loyalty to the regime, hard work, vigilance against the
enemy, belief in the future.
At its most ambitious, the aim of Soviet propaganda is so
daring that we in the West can hardly comprehend it: so to
condition its citizens that they think of their personal freedom,
and their personal ambitions, as identical with the purposes of
Soviet society. The latter of course are wholly determined by
the Communist leadership.
To any American who has been sensitized to propaganda, the
most striking single impression he gets as he passes behind the
Iron Curtain is the all-embracing character of the effort. In
America he may think of propaganda in terms of advertising,
or political campaigns, or crusades for good causes, or even in
terms of slanted news. In Russia he discovers that the rulers
seek to convert the total culture into a giant propaganda
apparatus.
The distinctive features of Soviet propaganda manifestly
stem from the Communist theory of government. In Bolshevik
theory the Communist Party is to be the "vanguard of the work-
ing class," and the leading force in the creation of a new society.
On this premise the Party has assumed a monopoly over all
means of communication. The Party is wholly intolerant of any
competition. It regards itself as the repository of all truth and
wisdom. It claims unrestricted authority to impose its views
and its will on the people. This claim extends into the most
personal and private matters of human existence.
In western nations the role of the government in guarding
public and private morals is largely limited and negative. Our
laws set outside limits to what may or may not be done by the
individual, and punish only gross transgression of moral stand-
ards. By contrast, the Soviet government seeks to mould the be-
haviour of the Soviet citizen not only at work, but also at home
and during leisure hours. It seeks to guide all his thoughts and
attitudes-not only toward his government but also toward
society in general and toward his fellow men individually, in-
cluding his closest associates and even his relatives.
Soviet indoctrination is a function not only of the traditional
instruments and channels of communication, the so-called mass
media-newspapers and periodicals, broadcasting, motion pic-
tures-but also of literature and art and the theatre, of schools
and religious institutions, and also of farm and factory and in-
deed of every form of social organization. In Russia no human
The Organization
To supervise its vast propaganda program the Communist
Party has built an elaborate machinery of policy making, ad-
ministration, control and censorship. At the top is the Agitation
and Propaganda Department of the Communist Party itself-
the so-called Agitprop. This is attached to the Party's central
secretariat. It is headed by one of the top leaders in the Soviet
hierarchy, though his identity is not always known to us. My
casual acquaintances among Russian officials, cordial and out-
spoken on many subjects, did not respond to questions about
Agitprop.
Agitprop gives central direction to all propaganda and indoc-
trination activities and agencies. In this it controls the press.
It is also aided by a number of governmental departments, the
most important being the Ministry of Culture. The Agitprop,
the Ministry of Culture and the All-Union Ministry of Higher
Education operate throughout the U.S.S.R. Corresponding and
subordinate organs, in both the Party and the government, exist
on all territorial-administrative levels.
F. Bowen Evans, in his book, Worldwide Communist Propa-
ganda Activities (1955), reports:
"Agitprop has an elaborate organization with about a dozen
subsections: for the Central (Moscow) Press, for the Local
(Provincial) Press, for Publishing Houses, for Films, for Radio,
for Fictional Literature, for Art Affairs (theater, music, paint-
ing, etc.), for Cultural Enlightenment, for Schools, for Science,
for Party Propaganda, for Agitation (administrative), and for
Propaganda (administrative). As a Party organ, rather than a
government organ, Agitprop for the most part does not itself
engage in propaganda operations. Its primary role is that of
planner, guide, supervisor, and policeman over the Government
agencies which actually do the publishing, filming, broadcasting,
etc." (With permission of The Macmillan Company.)
The propaganda of indoctrination is so all-pervasive that it
ceases to be a measurable activity, and tends to become identi-
cal with the total culture of the country. But some notion of
the scale of effort within the U.S.S.R. that goes into "propa-
ganda and agitation" is shown by Evans' estimate that in 1953
the Soviet government used 375,000 propagandists full-time and
another 2,100,000 part-time. These total about the size of the
U.S. army. Another 1o,000,ooo intellectual and professional
workers were expected to engage in propaganda work as a con-
dition of their employment. This latter figure is roughly four
times the number of college students in the United States.
Throughout the Soviet Union there are about 6,ooo special
schools maintained by the Party devoted exclusively to train-
ing professional propagandists. These have an enrollment at
any one time of 185,000 students. Above these 6,ooo schools are
177 regional "propaganda colleges" to train 135,000 "alumni"
of the local schools. This is 50% more than the total college
and university enrollment of Great Britain. And above the
regional schools are a dozen higher institutions giving "grad-
uate training" to several thousand advanced students. Commu-
nist leaders throughout the world, such as Mao of China, Togli-
atti of Italy, Duclos of France, and Browder, Foster and Dennis
of the United States, have attended these advanced schools.
Propaganda is by far the biggest business of the U.S.S.R.,
except for the Soviet armed forces. It is so much the spirit and
the essence of Communism that I visited Russia in an effort
better to understand it, and to prepare this article about some
of the significant but little understood aspects of it. My present
goal of course is merely to report some observations and inci-
dents which will help some of us Americans to achieve greater
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Right: Interior of the lzmailovskaya
station of the Moscow subway. The
ornate architectural style was criti-
cized by the government in 1955
Below: A slum area, about 100 yd.
behind the United States embassy.
This photograph was made in 1953 by
a U.S. college student editor
Left: General view of the city, showing on the left a new
office building of the popular Soviet architecture style
Above: The Tsar Kolokol bell in the Kremlin. Damaged in
the fire of 1737, the bell was never hung
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Photographs of the Soviet capital. The three on this page and the two on the top of the
facing page were presented to Sen. Benton by an editor of Izvestia, the Soviet govern-
ment newspaper in Moscow
Top: The Kremlin, former palace of the czars, now housing the central government offices
of the U.S.S.R.
Right: Statue of George Dolgoruki, prince of Rostov, legendary founder of Moscow. The
statue was unveiled in 1947 during the 800th anniversary of the city
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as agitators. In American sales language, this is the "merchan-
dising at the point of sale" for which the educational system,
and the mass media, have prepared the way.
I do not present many of the following observations as other
than cursory. They are subject to continuous re-examination.
The information I have sought for this art`cle is not easily
come by. I spent months studying the available data, both in
the United States and England, before leaving for Russia. I
submit the data I have assembled, my reports on interviews
with high Russian officials, and my personalL observations--I
submit these in full knowledge that they only scratch the sur-
face. But I submit them also in the deep conviction, after a
lifetime of experience in the field of communication, that a far
better understanding of this subject by the government and
people of the United States is vital to our future welfare.
ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH in Moscow. Sen. Benton observed that he saw
few persons under the age of 60 in Soviet churches
understanding of what I believe is the most terrifying com-
petitive threat in the competitive co-existence which seems to
lie ahead.
I shall concentrate here first on education because this is
most fundamental and for the long pull most important; sec-
ondly, on the press; thirdly, on the use of the arts for Com-
munist propaganda; and finally, some rather casual comments
on broadcasting, the motion pictures and on my visit to three of
the satellite countries. In my concluding section I seek to sum
up. I also give some of my further personal observations.
Of the influence of religion I shall say only that the regime's
slightly more tolerant attitude today does not mean that it is
relenting in its militant atheism; it may only mean that, in
Russia, religion no longer worries the Party. I saw very few
Russians under age 6o in church. Khrushchev said not long ago,
"Religion is still the opiate of the people, but we are strong
now and not afraid of it." I fear the Communists have been
largely successful in the U.S.S.R. in their antireligious propa-
ganda, though I suspect the total success of this campaign is
often exaggerated; many feel there are deep religious convic-
tions still in the hearts of tens of millions of Russian people.
I shall pass over, briefly, the entire area of "face-to-face"
propaganda which occupies such a large proportion of the
trained propagandists. There are two major types. One con-
sists in formal lectures, conducted at a fairly high theoretical
level and often before large audiences. This is technically called
"propaganda" by the Communists, and is the responsibility of
the Society for the Dissemination of Political and Scientific
Knowledge. The Society has more than 300,000 members. Its
lectures range from animal husbandry to the philosophical
underpinnings of Marxism-Leninism. It also publishes propa-
ganda pamphlets. The Society claims to have organized roughly
1,ooo,ooo lectures in 1954.
The other is called "agitation" and takes place within groups
of about fo to 15 people. Problems and ideas are handled in
simplified fashion, one idea at a time. The local Party units
select and train agitators. Agitation meetings are usually short
sessions held at places of work. The agitator's job is to con-
vince his listeners of the wisdom of Party decisions, and to
In the Educational Institutions the Foundation Is Laid
and the Basic Attitudes Shaped for Communism
"Just because we don't teach Marx in the first ten grades,
please do not conclude that our lower schools are non-political.
Our aim is Communist education."
This was Ivan Kairov speaking, the Minister of Education for
the so-called Federated Russian Republic. This republic is by
far the largest and most important of the 16 republics which
make up the U.S.S.R., embracing both Leningrad and Moscow
and extending from the Baltic to the Pacific. I interviewed
Kairov in Nov. 1955. His ministry is responsible for the entire
educational system through the first ten grades. It has insti-
tuted a ten-year program which is now compulsory in the 122
biggest cities and for about 70% of all young people; it is to
be compulsory everywhere by 1960.
The ten grades are at least comparable to the average high
school education in the United States. The Russian youngsters
go to school six days a week and io months a year. Further,
students at all levels work much harder than students in Amer-
ica. The parents know that this is the sure way for their chil-
dren to get ahead. Indeed, the Soviet government felt it
necessary a few years ago to pass a law prohibiting teachers in
the lower grades from assigning homework for Sunday, so that
the child would have one day off in seven.
"We teach history as we Communists see it," the Minister
continued, and he showed me the beginning textbook in Russian
history, which Soviet youngsters encounter in the fourth grade,
at age ro or ii. He explained, "The children are not intro-
duced in any depth into the significance of the class struggle
in the fourth grade, but of course they are instructed on the
part played by the landlord versus the worker throughout the
history of Russia. Such instruction prepares them for the con-
cept of the class struggle which they will be taught in the
higher grades, and after they finish the ten-year school."
At my request, Kairov later sent me copies of four history
texts used by Soviet youngsters for the fourth, eighth, niath
and tenth grades. The text for the fourth grade, which went
to press in June 1955 in a printing order of i,ooo,ooo copies,
has for the first two sentences of its introduction: "The U.S.S.R.
is the country of socialism. Our Fatherland is the greatest coun-
try in the whole world." A few lines later the introduction goes
on, "Unlike other countries, the U.S.S.R. has neither capitalists
nor landowners. In the U.S.S.R. there is no exploitation of man
by man. We all work for ourselves, for the whole society."
The changing propaganda themes of the Soviet regime, as
exhort them to their effor s re h n 2 0o th r t p r y to fit changing
d8r F~eiea~e ?121~11 ~IA-~2b86#6130~~'~620
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needs, are hammered constantly, uniformly and insistently sure, io% over the years adds up
through the press and through broadcasting, films, the theatre tion by Communist standards.
and other media. But it is in the schools that the foundation is
laid and the basic attitudes shaped into Communism.
It would be a serious mistake, however, to assume that Soviet
education consists entirely, or even largely, of Communist in-
doctrination. By any standard, the educational achievements
of the Communist regime have been impressive. The most strik-
ing of these has been the virtual elimination of illiteracy among
people under 40. In its issue of Oct. 30, 1955, Pravda claimed
that 6o,ooo,ooo Russians are now going to school, adult classes
included.
Kairov told me that, before the Revolution, 30% of all Rus-
sians were illiterate. Mr. Palgunov, managing director of Tass,
gave this figure as 65%. An American study puts it at 55%.
(These differences may partially result from using earlier or
later boundaries.) Advances had been made under the last
Czar. A few years after the Communists took over, they threw
themselves into the task of education with fervour. Their slogan
seems almost literally to have become, "Education instead of
butter."
Kairov told me that the first "law of Universal Obligatory
Education," making four years of primary education compul-
sory, was passed in 1930. In 1947 the requirement was raised to
seven years for urban children. The big decision to introduce
universal obligatory ten-year education by r96o for everyone
was taken in 1951. The mayor of Kiev, capital of the Ukrainian
Soviet Socialist Republic, in explaining to me that his city was
already on the compulsory ten-year program, said that the city
had 6,ooo teachers to serve its 16o,ooo to 170,000 pupils.
By American school standards the U.S.S.R. now has a strong
primary and a rapidly expanding and developing secondary sys-
tem. Surprising to many Americans is the phenomenal growth of
higher education. Today, according to figures which Western
students of the U.S.S.R. accept, about i,8oo,ooo are enrolled in
universities and higher institutes, and about another 2,500,000
are enrolled in the tekhnikums-vocational schools above the
ten-year school system. In some fields, notably technological,
the Soviet Union is producing graduates who compare favour-
ably, both in number and quality, with those in the United
States. Indeed, Allen Dulles, head of the U.S. Central Intelli-
gence Agency, and Admiral Lewis Strauss, chairman of the
Atomic Energy Commission, say the Soviet output of engineers
and technical specialists may exceed that of the U.S. by as much
as 50%. This figure becomes the more startling when one recalls
that the Russian economy is probably no more than one-third
the size of that of the United States, and thus, presumptively,
the demand for engineers internally should be far less than in
the U.S.
The Soviet educational system is designed to meet the needs
of the state, not the needs of the individual. The system has two
predominant goals: first, to produce trained specialists to meet
the demands of the expanding state economy; second, to pro-
duce graduates with the "correct" political orientation, that
is, loyal and unquestioning believers in the government and
in Communism.
These two goals have not always received equal stress under
the Red regime. In the 1920s, political indoctrination was the
more important goal, and educational standards suffered as a
consequence. Since 1945 the demands of the national economy
have received the greater emphasis. Today, in the technical
institutes, the Minister of Higher Education, Vyacheslav Yelu-
tin, told me that 90% of study hours go to the students' special
field of training, with only the balance of 10% to the teaching
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Early Communist Experiments
Before the Soviet regime came to power in 1917 the prevail-
ing educational system of Russia, modelled largely after the
German, was one of the most liberal features of the Czar's gov-
ernment. The pre-1917 Russian schools had high academic
standards. They were open to children of all classes and both
sexes (though on a "separate and unequal" basis). Primary
education was developed and supervised largely by the local
self-government units. Most secondary and higher schools were
run by the state. Only about half of all Russian youngsters
of primary school age were going to school in 1914, though on
the eve of the 1917 revolution the system was in process of
great expansion. If only one-half the children were in school
in 1914, and in an educational system which was expanding,
this statistic would seem to support the illiteracy estimates of
55% or 65%.
It was not until the 1920S that the new Communist govern-
ment had the time and power to formulate and put into effect
a Communist educational policy. At first, this policy consisted
largely in doing away with anything that came from the past.
Regular subjects of instruction were abolished and a "core cur-
riculum" substituted; entrance requirements, examinations,
grades and academic degrees were swept away. All work was
done in student "brigades." Testing became "collective." Each
brigade had a leader who answered for the group, and the bri-
gade received a collective mark. The authority of the teacher
was considered one of the "reactionary vestiges" from Czarism.
Students were allowed to contradict the teacher, or even to
denounce him on political grounds. Since the students were
recruited largely from worker and peasant families, while the
teachers were of necessity holdovers from the old regime, plenty
of friction resulted. Teachers reported that they feared denun-
ciation if they failed to give a Komsomol (member of the
Communist youth organization) a good grade. Standards of
quality, especially in higher education, fell to a low point. The
national economy was suffering because the schools were gradu-
ating second-rate technicians, rather than the top-flight engi-
neers and scientists who were needed in the Soviet drive for
industrialization.
So with the first Five-Year plan, in 1928, the government
began to withdraw its previous educational "reforms" and to
reintroduce examinations and individual grading. It re-estab-
lished regular academic courses and reaffirmed the authority
of the teacher. By 1955, education, with liberal doses of Com-
munism added, had largely returned to the structure and stand-
ards of prerevolutionary times, but on a vastly expanded scale.
However, many features are new; the system is not only univer-
sal in the primary grades, but, throughout, it is coeducational
and secular. Further, it is closely and continuously geared to
the demands of the national economy.
The Ten-Year School
The curriculum of the Ten-Year schools has not been greatly
altered in recent years except for the new constant drive to
step up and improve "polytechnic" instruction. Since many Ten-
Year school graduates have considered themselves too good to
work with their hands, the Soviet press continually conducts a
strenuous campaign on the "joys of manual labour." It empha-
sizes the values of "polytechnic instruction" in the Ten-Year
schools to prepare young people for work in industry and agri-
culture.
of Marxism, Leninism and Stalinism. But of course io% over The hours formerly devoted to the Russian language and lit-
the years adds up to a great deal of studying; and, one may be erature, and to psycholog and to is have been cut. Kairov
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explained to me: "We are working towardachool that is gen-
eral and polytechnic, all in one." Even in the first four grades,
a course of study which the Minister called "The Study of
Labour" has been introduced. In the city schools, shopwork
perhaps similar to what in the United States is known as manual
training has been added; in rural schools, gardening. This manual
program is increased to two hours a week in the fifth and sixth
grades. From the eighth to the tenth grades the students engage
in what are called "Practicums," dealing with work techniques.
All students in the last three grades must do two weeks of sum-
mer work in factories or on farms. In addition, all schools
have "Voluntary Circles" for these grades, for groups interested
in practical hobbies, from making radios to keeping bees. "We
are trying to work out a combination of study and productive
labour," says Kairov.
Youth Organizations
Against Kairov's statement that "our aim is Communist edu-
cation" comes the discovery that less time is given to formal
indoctrination in Communist ideology than one would suppose.
All courses of all kinds, even in the natural sciences, are admit-
tedly slanted towards so called "materialism." Yet an over-
whelming percentage of the study courses goes to academic and
technical training.
The schools can and do lean on the press, radio, TV and other
media for continuous and daily indoctrination of the young (as
well as the old). For the young, however, there is still another
source of ideological indoctrination. Almost all Soviet children
go into the Young Pioneers at age nine, in the third grade,
and remain until age fourteen, in grade seven. Then in large
numbers they enter the Komsomol, the youth organization for
youngsters from 14 to 23. These two organizations are perhaps
equally responsible with the schools for the early stages of
formal indoctrination.
The statutes of the Komsomol, which Khrushchev claims num-
bers iS,ooo,ooo members, require each member to study Marx-
ism-Leninism; to engage in constant efforts to raise his own
political literacy; to explain the political line of the Party to
the masses of youth; and to provide an example of socialist
attitudes toward work and study. From the Komsomol comes
a large reservoir from which the Party can cull its future leaders
and functionaries.
At any one time about 40% of the 18,ooo,ooo members of
the Komsomol are engaged in serious study of Marxism-Lenin-
ism. Komsomol leaders are continually pointed out in the Soviet
press as young people who should set examples of loyalty and
devotion to the regime. In the schools, they seem to carry a
large share of responsibility for the maintenance of discipline
and loyalty to the regime among students. If a student refuses
to go to his job assignment, or shows unwillingness, the Kom-
somol representative will be the first to explain to the student
why he should go. This seems to be the advanced Soviet tech-
nique of what was called "student government" when I was at
college.
The Tekhnikums
Some children are siphoned off into specialized schools called
tekhnikums at the end of the seventh grade. There they take a
four-year course in their chosen vocations. Others enter the
same schools after the tenth grade for two or two and a half
years. In 1955 it was anticipated that the admission of seventh
grade students and those under 16 would shortly be abolished.
The tekhnikums are not a Soviet invention, but a develop-
ment from the Czarist system. There is no equivalent for them
in the United States. Perhaps the best name for them in gEng-
lish would be vocation lpprovedll er' Kelease e 200/081121
produce "middle-trained" specialists not only for industry, but
also in music, art, medicine and education. A tekhnikum gradu-
ate in medicine would occupy a position intermediate between
a doctor and a nurse.
The tekhnikums are run by the great industrial ministries
such as the Coal and Coke Ministry, the Ministry of Commu-
nication, the Ministry of Agriculture, etc. One estimate placed
the total number of these tekhnikums throughout the U.S.S.R.
at "more than 2,000." This was given me by the prorector of
the University of Moscow who says the total tekhnikum enrol-
ment is 2,500,000.
I visited a tekhnikum in Kiev. This is one of 50 maintained
throughout the Soviet Union by the Ministry of Coal and Coke.
(The All-Union Ministry of Higher Education, however, ap-
pears to set minimum standards for all tekhnikums.) The prin-
cipal told me that when his tekhnikum opened ii years ago
it had only 255 students; and that it now has 2,500 students
and 85 teachers. He offers tenth grade graduates two and a
half year courses in four specialties-construction of coal mines,
construction of coal mine buildings, construction of roads for
coal mining enterprises, and construction and use of communi-
cations equipment used in the coal mining industry.
The equipment, the models and laboratories astonished me.
The principal said that the equipment, some of it covering
rooms loo feet long, was worth "millions of roubles."
The principal was particularly proud of a scale model of a
"Palace of Culture" made by one of his students. A Palace of
Culture is a kind of local club which is supposed to symbolize
the progress of the Soviet people. There must be tens of thou-
sands of them throughout the Soviet Union and thousands more
going up all the time. The model was about i2-ft. long by
perhaps 5 ft. deep, with electric lights, and a tiny simulated
moving picture flickering inside. All the details of construc-
tion were visible when part of the "Palace" was lowered in
order to give a cut-through. Indeed the student builder was also
on exhibit, a tall, gaunt poetic-looking boy with a receding chin.
I asked the principal how he could put such a boy into a coal
mine.
The problem of getting boys voluntarily to apply to a tek-
hnikum in the field of coal mining interested me because I know
that coal mining isn't exactly a popular career in the United
States. The principal suggested that the problem is one of
propaganda and promises. The boys from the Ten-Year schools
are "guided" by the government into the tekhnikums where they
are most needed. This is done by what the principal called a
"process of popularization." I did not have the chance to in-
quire whether salary incentives were also involved; for example,
whether a coal mine foreman is paid more highly than a young
man who is being trained to go into journalism, which sounds,
at least to me, like a more pleasant and interesting occupation.
Applicants have an opportunity, on a certain day each year,
to come in and look the tekhnikum over, and listen to repre-
sentatives of the school, before they make up their minds. I
presumed that there must be those whose academic grades failed
to qualify for the universities or higher institutes. But the
principal says this isn't necessarily so. Some talented young
people who might qualify just don't want to wait the five years
of the university or comparable higher education, before they
go to work. They apply for a tekhnikum because it takes only
40% or 5o% as long. They, and others who may develop aca-
demic aptitude in the tekhnikums, have a second chance for the
university or higher institute if they stand in the top 5% after
their 2 or 22' years at the tekhnikum; this 5% goes on :into
the higher institutes purely on the recommendation of the
faculty, and without examinations. Thus the bright student in
Ruh ja RDPBOF01731 8000400620029-3he education he
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wants and can absorb. However, s'ents who go from tekhni-
kum to university or institute from this top 5% must remain in
the same field in which they were trained in the tekhnikum.
The rest of the tekhnikum graduates serve at a job to which
they are assigned for three years. Only after the expiration of
this job assignment may they apply for admission to a higher
educational institution. To be admitted they must pass the
competitive entrance examinations and they must continue in
the fields for which they've been previously trained. The Rus-
sians feel the need for skilled technologists too keenly to allow
them the free choice to shift fields.
For most students, of course, graduation from a tekhnikum is
the terminal point in their formal education. But many continue
to struggle and strive. This is why one sees the young people
in the bookstores at the sections featuring scientific works;
they buy books on nuclear physics in preference to novels in
order to get ahead. This is why I found every desk occupied in
the great reading rooms connected with the scientific sections
in the Leningrad library. The silence was absolute; the con-
centrated zeal of the students was a bit breath-taking; and the
rooms are jammed by day with workers from the night shifts
of the factories; and by night with those from the day shifts.
It can't be stated too often that the surest way to get ahead
in Russia is by studying and by learning. Promotion can't
often be won, as occasionally in the West, by inheriting money
or influence or by marrying a dowry or the right girl.
Universities and Higher Institutes
The University of Moscow, with its gleaming new 33-story
tower, is, after the Kremlin itself, Moscow's most arresting
structure. The prorector of the university, Professor Vovchenko,
told me it cost the astonishing sum of 3,000,000,000 roubles.
At the present inflated four-roubles-for-a-dollar exchange rate
that would be U.S. $750,000,000; even at the lowest estimate
I picked up anywhere on the rouble, twenty-for-a-dollar, this
is U.S. $150,000,000, or more than has been spent for the physi-
cal plants of any but a handful of American universities. This
greatest of the Russian universities is a symbol to all Russia
of what lies ahead in the fulfilment of Soviet ambitions in the
field of higher education.
Vovchenko, a chemist, told me that the University of Mos-
cow had graduated 85,000 in its 200 years, 45,000 of these since
the 1917 Revolution. It now has 23,000 students enrolled, and
turns out 3,000 graduates a year. About half of all students
are being trained as teachers. Ten per cent of the graduates
are permitted to stay for graduate work (compared with about
5% at the University of Kiev and in the Soviet Union as a
whole) and of these, after three years of advanced study, more
than 9o% earn the kandidat degree. The teaching faculty num-
bers 2,000, all, of whom must do research, with another 500 who
do not teach devoting themselves exclusively to research. (The
great new building has 1,900 laboratory rooms.) The univer-
sity's annual budget is 250,000,000 roubles, exclusive of con-
struction.
Vyacheslav Yelutin, Minister of Higher Education, told me
that there are 760 institutions of higher learning in the Soviet
Union, but these do not of course include the tekhnikums.
Vovchenko estimated that 1,825,000 students are enrolled in
these higher institutions. (In the United States, about 1,850
institutions are in the "higher education" category, with
2,533,000 students, and of course there are no tekhnikums.) If
we add the tekhnikum enrolment, we reach a total for institu-
tions beyond those comparable to high schools in the United
States of more than 4,300,000-or almost double the post-high
school enrolment in the United States.
In the U.S.S.R. there are three basic types of higher educa-
tional institutions'6001he university, the institute (the latter
category including technical, medical, legal and other special-
ized schools, but excluding the tekhnikums), and the pedagogi-
cals or teacher-training institutes.
According to Soviet sources about 9o% of all students in
these higher institutions are on state scholarships, with the
amounts of the scholarships increasing slightly every year that
the student remains in school. This largely removes from Soviet
education the factor of the economic status of the parents which
is so important in the U.S. in determining the educational
advantages and advancement of the young people. The fact that,
generally speaking, in the U.S.S.R. a student can keep going,
at the expense of the State, as long as he can make the grades
-this fact is profoundly important when the present Soviet
development of its potential manpower is weighed against and
compared with the practices in the U.S.
The U.S.S.R. scholarships are fixed by the Ministry of Higher
Education and they vary in amount from field to field. There
must be a technique of persuasion, as in the tekhnikums, to
channel students into the fields of greatest need, as judged
by the State. The larger sized scholarships will encourage stu-
dents to enter in sufficient numbers those fields to which the
government gives high priority (for example, scholarships in
mining and aeronautics are very high, but scholarships in his-
tory are almost negligible).
After a male student has been accepted at a higher educa-
tional institution, he applies for draft deferment, which is ap-
parently automatic. This Soviet draft deferment policy has never
been explicitly stated by the government. Before 1939 all stu-
dents were exempt from military service. After 1939 all youths
from the age of 18 were made eligible for the draft, but it
appears (from testimony of displaced persons) that most stu-
dents attending schools of higher education obtain deferments
not only during their period of study, but also after graduation.
Instead there seems to be, especially for students in the fields of
science and engineering, some sort of R.O.T.C.-type training:
summer camps and military courses are included in the curricu-
lum. On graduation these students are commissioned in the
reserve. The draft deferment policy, and the exact nature of the
military training given, are never mentioned in the Soviet press.
The Soviet policy, however, is manifestly designed to utilize
youth and manpower so that its sum-total productivity will
bring maximum benefits to the State. This policy, in my judg-
ment, as it increases in effectiveness, poses a most serious threat
to the West, dangerous in war because of its efficiency, and
ominous in any form of competitive co-existence we can envis-
age. The victory in such competition between the U.S.S.R. and
the West in areas like Asia and Africa may well go to the larg-
est battalions of technologists trained for export.
The academic load of the average Soviet college student
sounds far heavier than in the U.S. Further, Yelutin explained
to me that the higher institutions draw their students from the
entire population, and not from any particular segment. He said
there are perhaps ioo,ooo,ooo workers in the U.S.S.R., of whom
perhaps 20,000,000 could be called "members of the intelli-
gentsia." And of the total enrolment in higher institutions,
Yelutin says, about 20% come from "intelligentsia" families.
He commented, "In admitting students, we don't ask who the
father is; we want a clear head."
The U.S.S.R.'s 33 universities are directly under the jurisdic-
tion of Yelutin's ministry. A typical Soviet university has 12
"faculties"; for example, in physics, mathematics, language,
literature, history, biology, geography, chemistry, philosophy,
economics, law and journalism. The two universities I visited,
Kiev and Moscow, two of the three most important, have six
faculties in the natural sciences and six in the humanities and
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Left: Book stacks in Gorky
library, Palace of Science
Right: Assembly hall, Palace of
Science, during bicentenary of
the university, 1955
Below: Old university buildings,
downtown Moscow, now housing
humanities departments
Views of Lomonosov State uni-
versity, Moscow
Left: Palace of Science on Lenin
hills, completed in 1953. The
building contains all scientific de-
partments, a library of more than
1,000,000 volumes and rooms for
6,000 students and faculty
Below: A lecture by Soviet sci-
entist A. I. Oparin, department of
biology and soils
Approved F led 80 01 ` 000O4006rO02 3
Right: An arithmetic lesson in
the second grade of a girls' sec-
ondary school in Moscow. Me-
chanical counters and the abacus
are still widely used by busi-
nesses in the U.S.S.R. Electrical
computing machines are almost
unknown
EDUCATION
Right: Scientists of the Dokuchayev Agricultural institute in Kharkov using atom
tracers to study the absorption of radioactive phosphorus by sugar beet leaves
Below: The oral examination is a part of the educational system from the lowest
grades. Note the "hero" medals on the male examiner
Above: Typical school building of a collective farm
Right: Moscow children pose in front of a modern building in. the new primary
grade uniforms adopted in 1954
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FUTURE LEADERS, members of the Lenin Young Communist league in the
Hall of Sessions of the Kremlin, Moscow, during the congress of 1954
ministries. However, Yelutin's ministry serves as what he called
a "kind of legislative organ for all institutions of higher learn.-
ing." As Minister of Higher Education, he says, "I follow out
the orders issued by the government and also put out additional
regulations of our own."
Among Yelutin's responsibilities is certification of all degrees.
He confirms and approves all teaching plans and curriculums.
He also has a right or privilege which seems odd to us, and
which must be important to the control he exercises. Only he
can authorize putting into a book the phrase, "This is a text-
book." No university or institute can do this; only the Minister
can do it for them. The book publishers, he says, can put out
what they may regard as textbooks-but they can't say, "This
is a textbook."
Yelutin's ministry appoints the rector (or director) of each
higher institution. Under the rector are two or three deputies:
one for academic administration, one for general administra-
tion, and the third for Party affairs. The latter has much to
say in the matter of personnel selection and policies. Highly
important by our standards is the fact that no university pro-
fessor has permanent tenure. Any professor can be fired at arty
time when the authorities, who are politically appointed, judge
his work to be unsatisfactory. Each university faculty has a
"Learned Council" with some powers; but no one seems clear
about how much power. It is clear, however, that the appoint-
ment of their members must be approved by the Ministry of
Higher Education.
The entire question of how rigidly and to what extent the
Soviet educational system is centrally administered is not clear.
The relaxation of control since the death of Stalin has been
evident in education as well as in other fields. For example,
social studies. there is today wide academic discussion of a so-called "new
If a student is accepted for graduate work, his three years charter" under which the rector of a university will in future
will follow an individual study program which is worked out be elected by the Learned Council by secret ballot. But there
with his adviser. This is the first time in the Soviet educational is no discussion of changing the requirement calling for the
process that the student is not following the uniform study plan approval by the Minister of every professor elected to any
laid down by the government. Learned Council, nor did I hear of any discussion of any exten-
Graduate work in the U.S.S.R. is also offered by the research sion of tenure in their jobs to scientists and scholars.
institutes of the Academy of Sciences. The Academy controls Of foreign students Yelutin said, "We are willingly going in
and directs nearly all basic and theoretical, and much of the the direction of taking more foreign students. When otller
applied, research in all scientific fields in the U.S.S.R. The dis- governments ask us we respond positively." Yelutin continued,
tinction between doing graduate work in a research institute "the financing of these students varies. One system of financing
and in a regular academic institution is not clear to me. How- is mutual exchange between countries. We have this kind of
ever, Vovchenko told me that members of the Academy of arrangement with Norway and Finland, for example. Sometimes
Science serve on the Learned Council of the University of the students are financed by their own governments. Now there
Moscow. is talk of using the United Nations funds for backward coun-
The first graduate degree, the Kandidat Nauk (Candidate of tries to finance students. We expect Indian students here who
Science), calls for a level of training roughly equivalent to will be financed by these UN funds." The Minister added that
that of the Ph.D. at a good university in the United States. it is "difficult to overestimate the importance of this exchange
The second, and the highest, Soviet academic degree, Doktor of students."
Nauk (Doctor of Science), is not predicated on any formal plan There are of course thousands of foreign students in the
of study but requires a successful defense of a Doctor's thesis U.S.S.R. Even in the satellites, there are many. Professor
which involves an original and significant contribution to sci- Urduig-Gruez, Minister.of Education in Hungary, told me there
ence. The degree of Doctor of Science may take 25 years for are between Zoo and 30o Korean and Chinese students in Buda-
the holder of the Kandidat's degree to achieve, and many pest. When I asked him what they were studying, he replied,
Kandidats are said to spend their lives striving for it without "Many are specializing in the Hungarian language and litera-
success. There is no such super-advanced earned degree in the ture." On this I can only comment briefly that Generalissimo
U.S. and if my information is correct, our Ph.D. from many Mao must be looking a very long way ahead.
departments in many universities is, by comparison, a diploma Of the 6o,ooo,ooo students Pravda claims, I do not know
from a junior college. what proportion are in the institutions for formal education,
. Yelutin explained that the pedagogical institutes, for teacher in contrast with those engaged in what we would call "adult
training, are under the direction of Kairov's Ministry of Edu- education." The percentage of the latter must be substantial,
cation; that the medical institutes (of which there are go) and notably through correspondence courses. In the U.S.S.R.
are under the Ministry of Health; that the coo or more agri- adults keep at their studies because diligence and industry pay
cultural institutes are under the Ministry of Agriculture; the off in the form of advanced education and certificates and
200 or more technicalA~so'ar bIVAgs 27*2Idi a ~ b ai'gs~RO.bbuw6t-grOe rs 3
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Summary of Soviet Aims
At the end of the tenth class, a special examination is held. All those
who pass are graduated and receive a certificate known in Russia as the
Attestat Zrelosti (Certificate of Matriculation).
Perhaps a quick way to conclude this key section in this
article, and to summarize the aims in Soviet education, is to
quote from the Great Soviet Encyclopaedia. Its editors are
instructed to produce the final instruction on "the Marxist-
Leninist-Stalinist outlook." Their task is regarded as of such
supreme importance that they report directly to the top Council
of Ministers.
In their special volume devoted to the Soviet Union, pub-
lished in 1948, they imprinted Kairov's views on the duty of
the schools to provide the Communist education. The Soviet
encyclopaedia progresses as follows:
"To develop in children's minds the Communist morality,
ideology and Soviet patriotism; to inspire unshakable love
towards the Soviet fatherland, the Communist Party and
its leaders; to propagate Bolshevik vigilance; to put an
emphasis on atheist and internationalist education; to
strengthen Bolshevik will-power and character, as well as
courage, capacity for resisting adversity and conquering
obstacles; to develop self-discipline; and to encourage
physical and esthetic culture."
This definition of aims of Soviet education is exactly in line
with the subjects of all articles in the 5o-odd volumes of the
so-called "Great Soviet Encyclopaedia." I spent more than
three hours with the editor, B. A. Vvedenski, and with four of
his top associates. This subject is naturally of special interest
to me as publisher of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The Great
Soviet Encyclopaedia serves to illustrate how the publishing of
all books in the U.S.S.R., as with all other media of communi-
cation with the people, is directed towards the furtherance of
the aims of the Party and the State.
The creation of "the new Soviet man" is to be brought about
not only by the teachers in the course of the schooling period,
but also by the whole system comprising the Pioneer and Youth
organizations, as well as by the Pupils' and Parents' committees.
The ideological fare doled out in schools today is limited and
is accomplished chiefly through the courses in history, litera-
ture and geography. One reason no greater indoctrination pres-
sure seems required from the lower schools is that the student
is surrounded by the government propaganda, everywhere and
on all sides, wherever he looks and in whatever he reads.
Labour Reserve Schools
A system of "Labour Reserve schools" was established in 1940 under
the Ministry of Labour Reserves to provide a "continuous stream of
labour for industry," from both the country and city. While in Russia I
asked many questions about the Labour Reserve schools but could pick
up little about them. Officials seemed to intimate that they are on the
decline, or even in process of being discarded. This may or may not be
true.
These schools trained semi-skilled workers, largely for heavy industry,
and have been a scholastic dead-end. They were filled both by volunteers
and a form of draft. Every collective farm had to send two boys or girls
from 14 to 17 years of age and two from tfi to r8 years of age per too
of the population, counting males and females between the ages of 14
and 55. City quotas were reassigned yearly.
The Labour Reserve schools were run on a military pattern. The stu-
dents lived in barracks, and it was a criminal offense to leave the school.
Youngsters who left were subject to imprisonment in a labour colony-a
forced labour camp-for a term up to one year. Tuition, room and board
were free. Upon graduation a student had to work four years at an as-
signed job, again at the risk of criminal liability for non-attendance.
There has been considerable evidence that these schools were unpopular
with young people because of the harsh military life and the almost cer-
tain lack of future. Obviously these schools provided a place for the less
talented students, and there has been some evidence that the transfer to
Labour Reserve schools was used as a punishment ("If you don't do
better this term, we'll recommend you for a Labour Reserve school").
There were three types of Labour Reserve schools: so-called trade schools,
which had a two-year course and trained semi-skilled workers, for ex-
ample, miners, metal workers, mechanics and electricians; railroad
schools, which had a two-year course and trained railroad workers; and
schools of "factory-plant instruction" with a six-month course, which
trained relatively unskilled factory, mine and construction workers.
In the fall of 1954 a new kind of technical school was opened by the
Ministry of Labour Reserves-the technical academy. These schools, with
a one to two year course, are built on the base of the Ten-Year school,
but they are distinct from the tekhnikum. Admissi6n is wholly unselec-
tive; i.e., anyone between the ages of 17 and 25 who applies is enrolled
without entrance examinations and there is no tuition. The students are
trained largely for work in heavy industry-the metal and oil industries,
industrial construction, railroads, mining and agriculture-and the stu-
dents are obligated to work on an assigned job after graduation.
Higher Institutions
The various types of higher institutions have many features in com-
mon. Largely, they draw their students directly from the Ten-Year school
system, or from the tekhnikums.
The admissions policy for all types of higher educational institutions
(referred to as vuz in Russian) is the same. The prospective student
files an application for admission to a specific faculty (department) of a
given institution. Then he must take four or five entrance examinations.
For example, the required entrance examinations given by the physics
faculty at the University of Moscow are in mathematics, physics, chem-
istry and the Russian language and literature. The only students exempt
from the entrance examinations are the honours graduates from the Ten-
Year school (called medallists, since they win a gold medal) and the top
5% of the students from tekhnikums.
Since 1940 all higher educational institutions have charged nominal
tuition and compensated for it with a system of scholarships that blankets
The Ten-Year School
The Ten-Year school is subdivided into a primary school (classes i to
4); an incomplete secondary school (classes 5 to y); and a complete sec-
ondary school (classes 8 to 1o). These subdivisions correspond roughly
to the U.S. elementary school, junior high school and senior high school.
At age seven a child enters the first class. As in Czarist days, he wears
a uniform (this his family must buy). He studies the same subjects at
the same time as every other child in the republic. Scholastic demands
are strenuous, hours are long and discipline is severe.
For the first three years, pupils are passed from grade to grade on the
recommendation of the teacher, but at the end of the fourth class they
must pass written and oral examinations both in Russian and in arith-
metic in order to move into class five. From the fourth class on, they
take written and oral examinations at the end of every year on a whole
year's work. A student's mark for the year depends largely on how he
does in his examinations. The marking is from 5 to I as we mark from
A to E: 5 is excellent and i is failing; 2 is "unsatisfactory."
For the oral examinations the pupils appear before a special examining
board which includes their regular teacher. The course has been sub-
While the course of study at a university or institute lasts five years,
at a pedagogical institute it is only four. The curriculum for every
"specialty" (major) is laid down by the Ministry of Higher Education.
The courses are taught much as in the United States with lectures, lab-
oratory work and group meetings. The 1o% of every student's course-
load devoted to lectures in the field of indoctrination cover the first three
years only, and are devoted to Marxism-Leninism, history of the Com-
munist Party, and dialectical materialism; all the rest of the courses are
in the student's field, beginning with very general subjects and becoming
increasingly specialized until, in the fourth and fifth years, the students
concentrate wholly on their specialties. Very few electives are allowed,
and they must be in the student's major. Thus, except for political sub-
jects in the first three years, and a foreign language, a Soviet advanced
student takes no subject outside his field. The Western idea that a physi-
cist might want to take a fine arts course, just for his own edification
and increased breadth of interest, seems wasteful to the Soviets.
Every graduate from the technical institute must serve for three years
at a job assigned by the relevant ministry. He (or she) is criminally
liable if he refuses to accept a designated job or if he leaves his job.
(There are a few exceptions; a wife cannot be assigned to work in a
different city from her husband.) The job assignment practice, although
alien to the West, does not seem to be unduly resented in the U.S.S.R.
Complaints, according to refugee reports, are made about particular
assignments, not about the practice itself. The students' attitude, it is
said, is that the State has educated them and that they are repaying the
State by their work. In the student's mind, a compulsory job assignment
may be an entirely acceptable alternative to a tour of military duty,
from which he is exempt. The official Soviet propaganda line is: How
lucky Soviet students are in comparison with American students; our
Soviet students have jobs waiting for them when they graduate, while the
unfortunate American graduates have to pound the pavements and haunt
employment offices.
of their formal schooling. A student admitted to graduate work, in order to obtain the kandidat
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divided into about 75 specific topics or questions. These have been
printed on tickets which are placed in a bowl in the front of the room.
About 20 minutes before a child is called on to recite, he is allowed to
pick his ticket. When his turn comes, he stands up in front of the class
and recites the answers to his questions. This oral examination procedure
is used right up through university and graduate work.
At the end of the seventh year comes the first watershed in the Soviet
educational process. For some students, about 30% of the total accord-
ing to Kairov, and largely in the rural areas, this is the terminal point
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degree, follows a course of study laid down by his adviser, and he must
pass certain examinations. He must hand in and publicly defend a
kandidat thesis. This usually takes three years after the five years of the
university.
The Faculties of Higher Institutions
Higher institutions are divided into faculties (departments), headed
by a dekan (dean), and each faculty is organized into kajedras (chairs).
For example, the mathematics faculty at the University of Moscow is
divided into the kafedras of mechanics, differential equations and others.
It is around the kafedra that graduate work and university research are
organized.
The highest in the academic ranks is a professor, for which rank a
doctor's degree is theoretically necessary. Next comes a dotsent (who can
be compared with an assistant professor) of whom a kandidat degree is
required. The lowest rank is that of an assistant which is similar to
that of our instructor.
The most important academic body in a higher educational institution
is the Uchenyi Sovet (Learned Council). The Council is supposed to co-
ordinate the academic and research work of the different faculties and
kafedras. It grants kandidat degrees and recommends the granting of
advanced degrees. However, only the accrediting commission of the
Ministry of Higher Education can grant the relatively rare and highly
prized Doctor of Science degree. The Learned Council also serves as a
transmission belt for policy decisions from the Ministry of Higher Educa-
tion. The Council does not have any control over the number of students
that can be accepted annually or over the distribution of students by
fields within an institution. This direction must emanate from the govern-
ment or Party in line with the needs of the State.
Evening Schools
During World War II, evening schools (incomplete secondary and sec-
ondary) were established for young people whose education had been
interrupted by the war. In the city, so-called Schools for Working Youth
and in the country, Schools for Rural Youth were established. These
schools continued to increase in number ever since their establishment in
1943-44. They have apparently become a permanent fixture.
Adult Education
There is an extensive program of adult education, both in evening
schools and by correspondence, designed to serve adults who are employed
and who are willing to put in long hours of extra study in order to get
ahead. The courses of study are supposedly the same as in the regular
schools. They are extended over a longer time period. The tuition is half
that of a regular school. The extension student must pass entrance re-
quirements. He is supposed to take correspondence training only in the
field in which he is regularly employed, but it is evident that many
students use correspondence education in hope it will help them eventually
to change fields. An employed person who enrolls in a correspondence
course is legally guaranteed time off sufficient for examinations and labora-
tory work. Formally, a correspondence degree is equivalent to that of a
regular degree. The same benefits (increased salary and promotion) accrue
to the holder, even though qualitatively the standards are not so high.
One of the fields where correspondence schools have been used to great
advantage is in teacher training. One of the remarkable facts of the Soviet
educational system has been its success in training hundreds of thousands
of new teachers.
THE SOVIET PRESS
The Key to the Understanding of Soviet Propaganda
and Indoctrination
Fifty-four years ago Nicolai Lenin defined the press as an in-
strument for "collective propaganda and collective agitation."
Further, newspapers were to be a "collective organizer." Lenin
would not be disappointed in the Soviet press today. He would
enthusiastically approve of its short term values and long range
goals.
In separate meetings I visited with three top newspaper ex-
ecutives of Moscow. They exceed in power and influence any
300 American newspapermen. Colonel Robert McCormick or
Roy Howard in their heydays were but cub reporters in in-
fluence by comparison with any one of them. They are not so
sharp as Lenin in their language-one of them blandly com-
mented that, after all, a newspaper is a newspaper, whatever
the society-but none would question Lenin's definitions. They
are experienced and sophisticated men, attractive men, mani-
festly able men, and because of these qualities they are poten-
tially dangerous men to the U.S.
They were N. G. Palgunov, managing director of the Tass
News Agency, the Russian counterpart of the Associated Press
Izvestia, second largest U.S.S.R. paper, which is the organ of
the Supreme Soviet, the highest governmental body in the
Soviet Union; and Yuri Zhukov, deputy editor (and foreign
editor) of Pravda, organ of the Communist Party, and by :iar
the largest and most powerful Soviet newspaper.
All were cordial, and on the whole, I thought, candid. All
three vigorously denied that they received editorial marching
orders regularly from above, or gave marching orders to the
rest of the Soviet press-which is why I qualify my word
"candid." All three conceded without hesitation that the Party
runs Russia-including its press.
In the press as in every activity in the Soviet Union, all
power is concentrated in the Party. Palgunov of Tass said, "Of
course the Party directs the economic, social and cultural life
of the Union. We do not deny that the Party gives the guid-
ance, and Pravda is of course the central organ of the Party."
Gubin, editor of Izvestia, also conceded at once that Pravda,
as the Party organ, is more significant than his own paper.
Zhukov told me that his chief editor, D. T. Shepilov, devotes
more time to his duties as secretary of the Central Committee
of the Communist Party than as editor.
I told Gubin I had been authoritatively informed that
Izvestia and Pravda had differed editorially in 1954. I knew that
Pravda had urged concentration on heavy industry, in the tra-
dition of the Stalin era, and that Izvestia had called for greater
emphasis on light industry and consumer goods, a view identi-
fied with Georgi M. Malenkov at that time. Gubin said the two
papers could never differ-they could never have a major dif-
ference on an important issue. He said, "There cannot be any
difference between the view of the Party, represented by Pravda,
and the Supreme Soviet, represented by Izvestia."
Palgunov told me that there are more than 7,000 newspapers
in the Soviet Union. Gubin gave the figure as 8,ooo-one of
many evidences I received that statistics in the U.S.S.R. tend
to be erratic. Of these papers, more than 500 are dailies, with a
total circulation between 43,000,000 and 47,000,000. In Czarist
Russia there were about loo dailies, with 2,500,000 circulation;
obviously the steep rise in literacy under the Soviet educational
drive has been a factor in this increase. (In the U.S. there are
published 1,785 dailies, with 55,000,000 circulation.) In addi-
tion to Pravda and Izvestia, there are 23 other so-called All-
Union papers which circulate everywhere throughout the
U.S.S.R. The remainder are provincial and local organs of
regional and local soviets, unions, Party units, etc.
The All-Union papers are said to account for 30% of the total
newspaper circulation in the U.S.S.R. Several ministries pub-
lish their own All-Union dailies. For example, the Red army
publishes Red Star. The Ministry of Agriculture's daily is said
to have a circulation of 1,000,000. The newspaper Labour was
described as the organ of the labour unions. The Komsomol, the
Soviet youth organization, has its own Komsomol Pravda. All
newspapers are of course properties of the Party or the State as
is everything else in Russia. All are thus propaganda organs
of the Communist Party.
The Soviet press differs profoundly from that of the United
States in practically everything except printing presses and
paper. There is little resemblance either in purpose or execu-
tion. Palgunov handed me a volume of his lectures for the fac-
ulty of journalism of the University of Moscow, dated 1055.
Here is a sample, and I concur wholly with the first sentence:
"In its character and content Soviet information differs radi-
cally from the information which is distributed by the bour-
geois press. In the capitalist world the press is used by the
bourgeois in order that, by misleading simple people, the capital-
and the only source of world-wide and U.S.S.R.-wide news for ists might be able to impose their will upon the workers. In a
about 7,000 Soviet n veTFioraReleia en2002O@8t21 643AJIRDP&oRO1'' 1ROO64t OO 9-3Il the bourgeois
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press as a whole, very frequently serves as a means of divert-
ing the attention of the popular masses from the truly impor-
tant, serious and vital problems. Thus it serves as a means of
glossing over social conflicts. For this purpose the press makes
a practice not only of incorrectly and tendentiously reporting
the facts, but also of tendentiously selecting the facts. Ordi-
narily the pages of the bourgeois newspapers are filled with sen-
sational, detailed and graphic descriptions of murders, rob-
beries, armed raids, street manifestations, trials, scandals in
high society and generally with a description of the life of the
`high society,' etc."
In the lectures Palgunov said further, "Unlike the bourgeois
press, Tass is interested only in facts. The Tass reporter must
follow the struggle of the classes; but he must do it objec-
tively."
Objectivity as we in the West idealize it-the reporting of
relevant facts and of both sides of every controversy-is alien
to the Soviet publishing system, which is based on the doctrine
that "impartiality results in the distortion of historical truth."
Being "first with the latest" is not a worry of the Soviet
editor. Even major international events sometimes must wait
their turn, until the Party line has been worked out. There are
no "enterprising young reporters" in Soviet journalism, out-
doing each other for "beats," no hard-bitten city editors; and
of course no salesmen of advertising space!
Crime, if it is reported at all, is treated as a shortcoming in
Soviet society traceable to the surviving remnants of capital-
ism. It provides the newspaper with the chance to admonish,
to lecture, to point up a moral. For example, Sovetskaya Es-
tonia, reporting the case of a group of "speculators" whose
alleged crimes included the theft and sale of stolen goods on the
black market, identified the criminals as people who "did not
wish to engage in socially useful work" (as all good Soviet
citizens are supposed to wish to do!). The story went on:
"The case has ended. The criminals have been punished. But
we would like to emphasize something that was not mentioned
at the trial, namely, the struggle which our public should wage
against speculation, a most shameful survival of capitalism. Un-
fortunately, certain public organizations overlook such cases....
The struggle against speculators and their accomplices is the
duty not only of the militia (police), the prosecutor's office and
the courts, but of our entire population as well."
If the exploits of an individual should happen to make news,
the treatment is impersonal. The Soviet press has written a
great deal about "Stakhanovism." Though the term has not
been in official use for the past year or two, it had been made a
household word in Russia, standing for the worker's initiative
and resourcefulness in overfulfilling production quotas. It takes
its name from one Stakhanov, a miner who accomplished ex-
traordinary feats with a drill. But what is known about Stak-
hanov himself? Nothing about him except what he did with a
drill has ever been considered newsworthy.
Society news, when it is reported, resembles the court cir-
culars of Victorian times. From time to time it is this news
that provides the only clue to the status of one or another high
ranking official. The first indication of police chief L. P. Beria's
fate was given by a "society" announcement. The list of digni-
taries at the opening of an opera failed to include his name. It
was confirmed later that at the time of the performance he was
in custody.
In Aug. 1955, in the early weeks of "the spirit of Geneva"-
the phrase of Khrushchev's so widely publicized in Soviet
THE PRESS ROOM OF Pravda and other Soviet newspapers and magazines,
Moscow
correspondents to a party. Pravda
used such extravagant-for it-phrases as "laughter and merri-
ment were heard" and the "mirror-like stillness of a millpond."
The Communist Party line in the press has its hero. It is
the "social process," as this is conceived by the Party. One
day the featured press article may be the coming election to
the Supreme Soviet. Another day it may be the celebration of
Miner's Day, and what this implies for the "glorious construc-
tion of socialist economy." Industrial production and the need
for more of it; problems of agriculture; aspects of Party life,
such as indoctrination of citizens and supervision of govern-
ment institutions-all these are constant themes in the pages of
Soviet newspapers.
A typical day's offering in the four pages of Pravda looks
like this:
Page. i. Unsigned editorial on the status and shortcom-
ings of the building industry. Texts of two government de-
crees, one instituting the annual observance of "Builder's
Day," the other announcing the demobilization of Soviet
troops who have served a fixed term of service.
Page 2. Detailed, editorialized reports on (a) a compe-
tition between the coal miners of the Karaganda area and
the Donets basin to outproduce one another; (b) progress
of grain procurement by collective and state farms in
various regions of the U.S.S.R. Formal announcement of
the visit. of a foreign prime minister with retinue.
Page 3. Article by an official of the Ministry of Building
Industry about the problems of the industry. (This serves
to reinforce the editorial on page i.) Article by a profes-
sor on how best to harvest the current crop of flax. In the
column on "Party Life" a letter from a Communist urging
better preparation to
Party meetings. News
mestic events.
insure smoother, more productive
briefs (4 or 5 lines each) of do-
Page 4. An editorialized dispatch from Bucharest about
cooperation between Rumanian agricultural workers and
their Russian counterparts. Article summing up foreign
press reaction, and giving official Soviet slant, on the forth-
coming negotiations with the foreign dignitary whose ar-
rival was formally announced on page 2. News briefs on
foreign affairs (4 or 5 lines each).
propaganda-so well publicized that most Americans don't even Reading a Soviet newspaper from cover to cover is a chore
recognize it as a Soviet propaganda slogan-Pravda departed entailing ineffable boredom for a western reader. The Soviet
accepted form to report a unique social affair "in the press is by its nature dull-except to those for whom it is a
country." Premier Nikolai Bul nin had invited the entire dip- matter of life and death or at least a matter of their political
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or economic future, because it is the key to the attitude and
line of the Party.
Palgunov claimed that Tass has an incoming daily file that
averages 1,677,000 words a day, received from (a) its 40 for-
eign correspondents, with a total of Zoo employees overseas;
(b) its exchange services with the Associated Press, the United
Press, and other world telegraphic agencies; and (c) its Boo
domestic correspondents. He estimates the incoming file of the
Associated Press at i,ooo,ooo words a day, but concedes that
the Associated Press, having more correspondents, is better off
with its i,ooo,ooo words. He explains that this is because they
are more usable words; that the Associated Press has told its
correspondents exactly how many words it wants on each story.
or each day, which cuts down the total wordage greatly and
improves its quality.
Palgunov says Tass sends out daily to its newspaper clients
40,000 words of domestic material, and 20,000 words of foreign
material. A four-page newspaper, which is the typical size in
Russia, can print only 16,ooo words. Therefore, the editors
must select what they want from the 6o,ooo. Palgunov flatly
denies there is any direction from Tass as to what the papers
should select. He claims that any Russian editor could edit his
paper without printing a single word from Tass-if he wished.
He quickly admits, of course, that this would prove impracti-
cable because without the Tass service an editor wouldn't have
any domestic or international news at all.
Palgunov pushed at me a batch of the previous day's papers.
I picked up three of the top four or five. These had exactly
the same headline across the left-hand two columns on the first
page, and the same size picture of the same event streaming full
width across the bottom. I asked if Tass had sent out instruc-
tions to handle this story in this manner. Apparently embar-
rassed, Palgunov vigorously denied that the sameness of head-
lines and make-up was Tass's doing. He insisted that the identi-
cal headlines and pictures were only "coincidental"; that any
good editor would give this same play to the story about U Nu,
the Burmese premier, which was the big story of the day. He
didn't try to explain why the headline position, the headline
itself and front page format were exactly the same.
I was puzzled by Palgunov's momentary discomfiture. The
standardization and uniformity of the Soviet press is as obvious
as it is well known. The three papers I picked off the top of
the pile, representative of several hundred throughout the Union
on that same day, could not have had that identical treatment
by accident. Such a meeting of minds of editors on headline and
make-up and picture is manifestly impossible mathematically.
If Tass doesn't send out such material with instructions to edi-
tors, then the instructions must come from somewhere.
The following day Gubin of Izvestia laughed at my account
of the three papers with identical headlines and pictures, and
said that this was "forced news." He referred to "Tass head-
lines." But he wouldn't elaborate. He said, "With experience the
editors learn how it should be done," and I really believe that
this last comment is the key comment on the press as a whole.
This is a more important factor than any instructions coming
from anywhere. Who indeed wants the responsibility for giving
such detailed instructions on any except perhaps the biggest
stories, such as U Nu's visit? Thus my over-all impression is
that the uniformity of the Soviet press is not achieved by de-
tailed internal censorship or detailed instruction by Pravda or
by Palgunov or by anyone else. The responsible editors of all
papers are hand picked by the Party. They are highly trained in
Party matters and discipline, as well as on technical matters.
They know how to put out the kind of newspaper the Party
wants. They don't have to be instructed in details (except once
Gubin insists that, far from having someone over him who
must approve his material, he is told by those to whom he is
responsible, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet (not the same
body as the Presidium of the Party), "You're the editor; get
your editorial board together and make up your mind what
position Izvestia wants to take."
Gubin presented me with three issues in which he criticized
the Ministry of the Meat and Dairy Industry. The minister was
so upset that he wrote a long letter. The Collegium of the In-
dustry, according to the letter, had met and agreed with the
correctness of the Izvestia criticisms. The letter pointed out
that there was "incipient reconstruction" of the ministry's
work. It thanked Izvestia for "yielding much that was useful."
This ministry, Gubin said, is now more compact. Costs have
been reduced, extra departments have been eliminated.
Gubin sought to imply that his role is similar to that of an
American newspaper in criticism of the government; but he (lid
not suggest that he ever criticized the top figures of the Com-
munist Party, or any of the Party's plans or statements.
Izvestia's daily circulation of 1,400,000 is drawn in large
part from the 1,500,000 deputies of local soviets, and from the
administrative commissions under these soviets. A soviet is
described as a legislative body, but it doesn't have too much
legislating to do because it takes its orders from the Party.
Gubin points out, quite correctly, that his newspaper, being de-
voted to government, has special importance in the Soviet
Union because government itself is most important, embracing
as it does the total life of the people-not only their economic
life but even their culture.
The circulation of Pravda, the Party paper, in Nov. 1955 was
4,900,000, but was to be stepped up about Jan. 1, 1956, to
5,5oo,ooo. But it was claimed that Pravda could sell 10,000,000
or 12,000,000 copies if it had the needed paper. It flies matrices
of its daily issue to regional centres throughout the U.S.S.R. for
printing and local distribution.
Pravda is very profitable. Its plant prints 20 magazines in
addition to the newspaper. It has 5,000 employees. It owns
apartment houses, a sanatorium, a secondary school, a school
to train printers and a Palace of Culture. And still there is
much profit left for the state budget.
I asked Zhukov, Pravda's deputy editor, whether the Ameri-
can editors and people were right in thinking that Pravda set
the line for the entire Soviet press. He replied that when he
worked for Komsomol Pravda, that paper had made an effort to
set a line so that others would copy it. So, he said, did the
labour paper; it also would like to set a "line." And, so he said,
would all editors. Thus he was happy that Pravda now makes
this same effort. In this explanation we have an example of the
skill of the Soviet leaders in dialectics: their skill in dodging
the direct question and seeking to divert the answer into ogler
channels. Zhukov knew that I knew that the answer to my
question was a simple affirmative. Indeed, he confirmed it as
he went on, "Some think that top members of the Communist
Party read and approve every article in Pravda. This is not true.
But of course Pravda reflects the line of the Party." Zhukov,
foreign editor of Pravda, as befits his role in setting the line
and tone for the treatment of foreign news for the entire
U.S.S.R. and satellite press, talked more about politics than
about Pravda.
The second Geneva conference was in session at the time I
spoke to Zhukov, and "contacts between East and West" was
one of the questions on its agenda. Some days before, U.S.
Secretary of State John Foster Dulles had announced that the
United States would abolish the requirement that American
passports must be specially validated for travel to the Soviet
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other Moscow newspapers were printing editorial articles on PRO OF(GANDA AND THE ARTS
the desirability of "more East-West contacts." No word of Sec-
retary Dulles' passport announcement had been allowed to pene-
trate the news columns of the Soviet press. When I asked
Zhukov what was the reason for his paper's total silence about
this key item in the world news, his reply was that space was
"limited" in the four-page Soviet newspapers!
Zhukov's views on foreign policy, as distinct from journal-
ism, I shall not report except for the key point, which is an
example of the propaganda line of Nov. 1955? He said; "One
could argue at length as to who is to blame for the loss of trust
after the second war. Let us leave that to the historians. The
main thing now is not to allow this little flame which has been
kindled at Geneva to flicker out.
"The American people are practical. They will understand
that the two countries must start where we now are. We now
have two sides that are equally strong. If the two sides were
not equally strong, there might be some reason for one or the
other to make compromises or
no better starting point than
there is no other.
concessions. But today there is
exactly where we are. Indeed
"To put it crudely, you of the United States must not go
after false Utopias. Don't think that you can make the Bolshe-
viks retreat. This is impossible."
This was his way of saying that the United States must ac-
cept the hard fact of the injustices Communism has worked on
unwilling peoples in many parts of the world. If America wants
to remedy these injustices, Zhukov intimates, what is she pre-
pared to offer Russia in return?
Frederick Barghoorn of Yale university has called the Com-
munist Party "an ideology in arms." The press is on the Party's
front line of ideological artillery. As an easy example of com-
plete Party domination, we may well remember how the entire
Soviet press, which had been cannonading against Naziism day
in and day out for years, suddenly changed its tone to one of
friendship and mutual regard within 24 hours after the Ribben-
trop-Molotov pact was signed in 1939.
Some observers minimize the effectiveness of the Soviet press
because of its dullness. But I am impressed with the fact that
approximately 43,000,000 Soviet citizens buy the dailies, and
tens of millions more buy the 7,000 other papers.
I'm impressed by the fact that the press calls the tune to
which others march.
I favour continuing the efforts of the Voice of America and
the B.B.C. (British Broadcasting Corporation) to bring straight
news to the Soviet people, even though only part penetrates the
Soviet jamming. I favour bringing top Soviet journalists to the
United States to see for themselves what we are like, even
though they will be required when they return to be critical
of us. I favour formal demands that the position taken by
western statesmen be fairly reported. I favour negotiations for
the circulation of western newspapers and periodicals within
the Soviet Union. I favour consistent pressure on the Russians
to cease and desist their costly jamming of our broadcasts. I
like Secretary Dulles' idea for an exchange of radio programs
on domestic networks.
I am not optimistic that any important improvement in the
Soviet press, from the western point of view, will come about
except as Communist Party strategy or tactics dictate. Every
column, every story, every editorial will continue to promote
the Communist Party line, to the complete exclusion of any-
thing that interferes with that line.
This is a major area of the Communist saturation strategy-
that everywhere the Soviet
reads, he finds nothing but
the aims of the Party.
Approved
The Most Diverting and Perhaps the Most
Transient of the Soviet Propaganda Assaults
Olga Bergholtz, a Soviet writer on art and literature, recently
voiced a criticism that would have been impossible before
Stalin's death: "Our Soviet theatre has lost its theatrical quali-
ties . . . Love has disappeared almost completely from our
lyrical poetry, just as nude bodies have disappeared from our
paintings, and movement has gone out of our movies. There
the characters do nothing but sit and stand and talk, and above
all take part in meetings."
What Mme. Bergholtz was complaining about, though she
couldn't and didn't say it directly, was the Communist concept
of "socialist realism." That is the phrase used by Soviet propa-
gandists to prescribe the goal for Soviet artists, novelists, play-
wrights, musicians and movie makers. With this phrase as their
cloak, the politicians convert the creative artists into propa-
gandists. With it they have stultified the great tradition of
the arts in Russia.
On Dec. 19, 1955, the United Press sent a dispatch from
London stating that "The Communist Party newspaper Pravda
has complained that Russian music, while full of `socialist real-
ism,' is dull." The dispatch continued, "Soviet music and musi-
cal criticism have resolutely taken up the position of socialist
realism, gained in the struggle against formalism, naturalism,
aestheticism, cosmopolitanism and against the neglect of clas-
sical heritage and manifestations of antipopular bourgeois
ideology."
In Leningrad, Moscow and Kiev, in Warsaw, Budapest and
Prague, I asked the "cultural officials" what the phrase "socialist
realism" meant to them. The words and ideas used to describe
it are among the most interesting and diverting I encountered
on my visit. Further, they show the dialectical skill of the
Russians in defense of attitudes which seem to us preposterous.
"Socialist realism" was established as the basis of all the
Soviet arts in a resolution of the Central Committee of the
Communist Party in 1932. This decreed "the creation of works
of high artistic significance saturated with the heroic struggle
of the world proletariat and with the grandeur of the victory
of Socialism, and reflecting the great wisdom and heroism of
the Communist Party."
When I entered the Soviet Union at Leningrad, my first
exposure to "socialist realism" in painting and sculpture came
in that city at the art school of the Soviet Academy of Art.
I believe I am the first American to visit this school since
the 1930s. It is one of the two leading art schools of the
U.S.S.R., the other being the Academy's school in Moscow. The
dean at the Leningrad school gave me this definition : "Socialist
realism is realistic art understandable to the masses of the
people." The paintings themselves, in room after room of the
school's exhibit of work of present and past students, reminded
me of the illustrations that used to appear in the Saturday
Evening Post and Collier's back in the 1920s, except that the
themes were different. The technique is what our American
artists of those days called "commercial art"-and, I suppose,
still do.
In one of the art classes I visited, I turned to the dean in
front of three finished oil paintings, which seemed to me to be
competently done by commercial standards. They were large
paintings, perhaps 24 in. by 40 in. in size, of a woman in bright
coloured clothes and with a not unattractive face, and I asked
the dean how anyone could determine which of the three was
best. All seemed to me to be the same. The dean shrugged his
shoulders and said that sometimes it was impossible to deter-
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mine the best among works of equal merit. n such cases he Ask any artist or man of letters here whether he is free. His
assured me that more than one artist is given the prize. But he answer will be `yes.' He can pick his theme. He can deal with
insisted that there were often differences which I might be it as he wishes. The issue is how one defines freedom. Socialist
unable to detect. realism is not a stereotype. On the contrary, it gives the artist
In the rooms of exhibits there were hundreds of paintings by the opportunity to manifest his individuality to the full."
former students including some dating back to the period before This statement isn't true by our standards. If the artist
1917. In the post-1917 rooms (the earlier period was represented wants to support himself as an artist, he must paint as he is
inconspicuously in the back rooms) were countless scenes of told to paint. By western standards, Russian paintings can only
Soviet heroes. There were no boys and girls; no families and be called stereotypes. But I do not claim that Nazarov did not
no nudes; no attractive or beautiful designs or arrangements believe what he said. He has been trained, for example, to use
of lines and colour; no mirth and no gayety; no impressionism, a tortured definition of the word "free." Such usage is an
abstractionism, surrealism or any other kind of ism. I walked instance of the Communist propagandists' trick. of first appro-
through room after room of huge canvasses showing Lenin priating, and then debasing and bastardizing, the great words of
making orations, usually with a young black-haired determined western civilization.
Stalin sitting next to him; showing farmers resolutely putting Even more eloquent, and more dialectical, was Nicolai
their hands to the plow; showing generals grouped together Skachko in Kiev, deputy minister of culture for the Ukrainian
pointing triumphantly at their charts, gesturing onward to a Soviet Socialist Republic. To my question, as to whether poli-
victory that seemed certain; showing Stalin in heroic size and ticians set the standards for artists in their efforts to convert
posture. all artists into propagandists, he replied, "There is no particular
I commented that the art of Russia, in addition to being author for our standards. They are the work of the collective.
"realistic," was certainly grim. The philosophical basis for them is of course in Marx. Lenin
The Leningrad school has five faculties-painting, drawing, and Stalin were the people who worked out Marx's philosophy
sculpturing, architecture and "history and interpretation of applied to the arts. To understand socialist realism you must
art." The most talented child students-about 175 to 200 of understand dialectical materialism. Materialism has a great and
them in Leningrad-are selected when they are only 1r years long history, and dialectical materialism is even more complex."
old from the fourth grade of the ten-year educational system. Skachko went on, "The method of socialist realism gives the
(There must be a high mortality rate, since the dean says the artist an opportunity to project the developing world; it is
school has only 700 or Soo students.) Others take examinations the method by which the artist portrays the objective world
and enter after the ten-year school, at about 17. These older around him, the world that exists independently of the artist's
students take a four-year course, almost wholly vocational, will, the world that is everybody's world." This explanation
with five hours a day of drawing and painting. was delivered with emphasis because the deputy minister could
The associate director, who accompanied the dean and me on see that I Wasn't in agreement. He kept giving new definitions
our tour, assured me, "men like Picasso had to go through years and examples. It almost seemed that he couldn't imagine that
of painting of the kind we teach here before they could develop he could fail to persuade me. He was himself an example of
individuality." This statement later seemed extraordinary to how deeply imbedded runs the Communist indoctrination, even
me, as I looked back on it. It implied that there may be some- in men of high intelligence and training. Indeed, this is perhaps
thing beyond "socialist realism," and something even better. the most marked among the most highly placed. The minister
This was the only such implied admission that I received any- continued, "Things are constantly dying out and are being born.
where from any Russian or satellite citizen. The artist must stress the latter, what is being born, rather
(In Moscow I was told by an American correspondent that than what is dying. The artist is an active participant in our
Picasso, himself a member of the French Communist Party, had life, and by his works he takes part in the new life."
said, "There is no art in Russia; just portraits of generals All this must sound pretty reasonable, even appealing, to
loaded with medals." In reply to this, Gerasimov, president of large numbers of Soviet artists who have never heard anything
the Soviet Academy of Art, and a painter of what I call the else. I'm sure that many of them can't even imagine anything
"Stalin school," retorted: "We respect Picasso as a fighter for else. And of course all this brings them to heel as tools of
peace; but he's no artist.") the propaganda apparatus of the Soviet State.
As I left the Leningrad Academy I saw two large blank can- Skachko continued by explaining that "socialist realism" was
vasses, perhaps io ft. by 15 ft. in size, lying on the floor at more than just duplicating photography. It must portray an
the top of a great staircase. I asked what they were for. The image, he said. Thus when an artist paints a woman kolkhoz
associate director told me that they were for the pictures of (collective farm) worker, he must "catch the image"; he must
Marx and Engels which were to be painted for the coming great "project the depths of her soul." The minister waxed enthu.-
holiday, Nov. 7. I raised my eyebrows and asked how long it siastic. "In her eyes," he said, "I see a woman-more than
would take to paint these giant pictures. He said, "Two days. a woman, I see a mother-I even see more than a mother-I
We can of course in an emergency do them in eight or ten hours; see that someone loves her. And beyond all this I see that
they are just copies of photographs." she is performing an heroic deed in her work at the kolkhoz.
"Just copies of photographs!" This is one way to judge Soviet This image is realism; the rest is photography." What the
art and its slogan, "socialist realism." But it isn't the only way. government is after in this case, of course, is motherhood and
I pursued my inquiries in Moscow. Mr. Nazarov, a deputy high productivity for the kolkhoz. Towards these ends, they
minister of culture for the entire U.S.S.R., and not only a prostitute the artists.
trained dialectician, as most Soviet officials seem to be, but To my question, "Should the artist paint the weak side of
eloquent as well, as many also are, said to me: "We emphasize life?" the minister replied affirmatively. But he explained that
the theme of labour in art and literature because everything the weakness should be painted only so that it can be elimi.-
comes from labour and everything should go to labour." nated. He told me of a painting called "Discussion of the
Nazarov continued, "All Soviet literature and art pursue the Two." In the Soviet schools, the marks used in grading the
most lofty aims of mankind. I do not say this as an agitator, pupils' work run 5, 4, 3, u see 2, i-yand g2 is "unsatis factory." The
demning-by
but as a fact. As to freedom, our America critics ar~0i2168/2 Tini' tIeA-RDP8O 0 x731 R00040D620029-3
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their postures-the behaviour of a comrade who got a 2." Here
in this painting, he said, is "socialist realism." And so it is.
The Soviet government in this case is using the artist to shame
and cajole students to greater effort for the greater glory of
the fatherland.
"Is the artist in the Ukraine free to paint what he wants,
and as he sees it?" I asked. "His theme is wholly up to him,"
said Skachko. "It is his personal affair, with no restrictions."
Then came the big qualification, and in this qualification un-
happily flows the artist's lifeblood, his chance for a livelihood.
Skachko hurried on, "The Ministry of Culture does turn to
the artist to persuade him to accept certain themes." Skachko
was speaking the next day at an artist's meeting. He was going
to recommend to them as a theme the new Kakhovka power
station. He wanted the artists to go there and work out com-
positions "to show the images of the people who created the
power station-so that a person looking at the picture can
read the whole story of this great achievement by looking at
these people." Here in this illustration, we see how, under
Communist dogma, "socialist realism" fosters and furthers the
aims of the state.
There are about I,ooo artists in the Ukrainian S.S.R., said
Skachko. I assume that a high percentage must be employed in
the propaganda bureaus, in industry and other places where the
themes are obligatory if the salary is to keep coming through.
But even with other artists, their pictures seemingly cannot be
exhibited or shown if they fail to fit into the definition of
"socialist realism," or even if they stray too far from the
approved themes.
Thus Skachko is listened to most intently by those Ukrainian
artists who want their daily bread.
There have been two periods since the Revolution when artists
and writers were under most intensive pressure to conform.
These were in the mid-193os and in the years immediately fol-
lowing World War II. The pressure now seems to be easing
slightly, since Stalin's death.
One hopeful sign is that the paintings of the French Impres- LOUD-SPEAKER mounted on a telephone pole broadcasts news and propa-
sionists, which for years have not been displayed by the Her- panda to workers in the fields
mitage in Leningrad, were shipped to Moscow for a show in
Nov. 1955. Another is the report of Henry Shapiro on the a harmony; the personalities of the writers must not clash with
Moscow annual art show for Soviet artists. Shapiro has covered the interests of society."
Moscow for 17 years for the United Press. He tells me that, In Budapest, Mr. Ibos, of the Hungarian Ministry of Culture,
up until 1952, more than 50% of all pictures exhibited showed who is responsible for 56 permanent theatrical companies-
Stalin either as the only figure or in conjunction with Lenin plus the circus!-said that "socialist realism" is "by Gorki
or in some other favourable situation. The "Stalin school" still from Marx and Engels out of Lenin." But only about one-third
predominates, but the paintings of the Marshal himself are no of the plays he produces qualify as "socialist realism," the
longer in evidence. Further, Shapiro believes that many Soviet remainder being the classics or "critical realism." The last
artists have painted things in recent years for their own enjoy- group are "modern" plays written before "socialist realism"
ment and pleasure, well knowing that . they could not show was ever heard of.
them or sell them. He thinks that such paintings, now hidden The director of the motion picture division of the same min-
away, may begin to make their appearance over the next few istry in Budapest, Mr. Uzhely, paid his respects to "socialist
years. realism" as depicting "real life, including people at work."
Perhaps an even more hopeful sign is that Gerasimov (not He said, "You cannot say that Marxism-Leninism isn't in our
only head of the Academy, but the brother-in-law of Presidium life, because it is." He added, "If we show in the life of our
President Klementiy Voroshilov), whose paintings always fea- people only love, and don't deal with administrative problems,
tured Stalin, admitted recently to Shapiro that he was painting we are going to make an unrealistic film. But if we show only
some peasant women taking a bath. This indeed sounds like the people's interest in production-with no love, no family-
the Revolution-in Soviet art. that too will be unrealistic. If we show everybody satisfied,
In the satellites, "socialist realism" receives obeisance but everybody agreeing with the government, that likewise would
apparently hasn't yet become the sole lodestar of the arts. be unrealistic."
However, in Prague, Mr. Stoll, Minister of Culture of the When I pressed for an example of a film of criticism, he cited
Czechoslovakian government, described "socialist realism" in a film he had recently made, The Ninth Room in the Hospital,
literature as "in fact a continuation of the great traditions of which "shows that the care of the sick often is not good."
literature basing itself on Shakespeare, Cervantes, Tolstoy, All of the foregoing quotations from leading practitioners
Mark Twain and Walt Whitman. Socialist realism isn't meant of "socialist realism" in the arts help to show how Communist
to restrict a writer's style. H wev r each writer must realize d m suffuses every activity of life and how it is used as
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a
or uncertain
k o whip t un~~i m
an all-powerful yardstick to p
into line, and to marshal every recourse of society for the
glorification of the goals of the state.
Harnessing the Writers
Writers are of special concern to the Communist Party, not
only because of the influence of their plays and novels and
essays, but because the Party is dependent on them for the
words and phrases which are the bullets of the propaganda
machine gun. And they pose very special problems to the Party.
The task of harnessing creative imagination to the purposes of
political propaganda is not simple, for great writing usually
requires full freedom of expression for the writer. In Commu-
nist Russia's upside-down world of the arts, the Party and not
the writer orchestrates the emotion and decides what is right
and wrong, and even what is ugly and beautiful.
Under the Czars the function of writers as critics of society
acquired high significance. Political activity as such was pro-
hibited, and thus literature became the best means of protest
against autocracy. Satirists such as Gogol and pamphleteers
like Kropotkin contributed to the revolutionary ferment. The
Communists are not unmindful of this tradition. They them-
selves most benefited from it. Thus they now take extraordinary
pains to try to enlist the loyalties of writers, and to stifle even
the slightest manifestation of any trend critical of the regime.
For the writer, "socialist realism" has at least two major
stable elements. The first is the Party dialectic. This demands
a "true and historically concrete expression of reality in its
revolutionary development." Of course the only truth it recog-
nizes is that of "people struggling for socialism." Everything
that favours the development of "socialism," as it is conceived
by the Communist Party, is true and must be glorified. Every-
thing that opposes it must be slandered and combatted.
The second important and stable element is optimism. "So-
cialist realism" cannot admit possible failure in the achievement
of socialist aims. It must focus on a "happy end," on the final
victory of socialism. The exploits and sacrifices of the heroes
of Soviet literature must not be treated as ends in themselves.
The cause of socialism is always the end. Reverses and short-
comings can never be more than temporary. They can never be
attributed to defects in the system itself. They are always
caused by alien, by enemy, machinations. In the end socialist
righteousness must triumph.
This bundle of self-righteous precepts can and has led to
absurd, even grotesque, presentations of life. In the years fol-
lowing World War II many writers unwittingly fell into the
trap of portraying their villains more realistically than their
heroes. Their villains were human beings, with a normal dose
of failures and weaknesses. Their heroes were artificial crea-
tures who resembled no one the reader could recognize. And
this villain-hero reversal of course netted many writers sharp
rebukes from the Party.
The talented poet, Anne Akhamatova, was personally de-
nounced in 1946 by A. A. Zdhanov, a member of the Politburo,
in the following language:
"Our literature is not a private matter calculated to please
various tastes on the literary market. We do not have to make
room in our literature for tastes and preferences which have
nothing in common with the morality and the virtues of the
Soviet people. . . . Her [Mme. Akhamatova's] writings may
only plant the seeds of sadness, demoralization, pessimism, the
desire to flee away from the real problems of social life, and of
isolation from the social life and activities for the sake of the
narrow world of personal experiences."
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gether. Others, such as Akhamatova and Pasternak
, found refuge
in translating foreign works. Still others fled into the past, into
historical themes that seemed safe to handle.
Most writers seem to have tried their best to cater to the
demands of the Party. The Soviet playwright Nicolai Virt.a
invented the "no-conflict theory" which was well in accord with
Stalinist ideology. It was based on the assumption that, since
Communism has eliminated basic conflicts from. Soviet life, and
since Soviet drama is supposed to represent life as it is, drama
itself should therefore be "conflictless." The only thing wrong
with this assumption is that it flouts reality and produces dull
plays.
Current topics are the touchiest for the writer. The Party
may unexpectedly frown on his treatment and denounce himn
for "kow-towing before the West," or for "bourgeois national-
ism" or any of several other "isms." Some works which were
rewarded with prizes have later been found wanting and have
had to be revised. Alexander Fadeyev, one of the important
names in Soviet literature, had to refurbish his Stalin prize-
winning novel, The Young Guard, only two years after it was
published. Fadeyev's fault was that he had portrayed the heroic
resistance to the Nazi invaders by a Komsomol unit without
emphasizing that the feat was accomplished under the guidance
of the Party.
When authors seek safety by treating their subjects as inof-
fensively as possible they frequently incur charges of "formal-
ism." To be accused of formalism, however, is infinitely better
than to be found guilty of the dread crime of "bourgeois cos-
mopolitanism." The punishment for the latter is usually expul-
sion from the Union of Soviet Writers. Expulsion means loss
of livelihood, and manual or menial work if the writer wants
to eat.
After Stalin's death Soviet writers began to experiment cau-
tiously. Vera Panova, a former Stalin prize winner, and Ilya
Ehrenburg, best known in the west among current Soviet
writers, came out with novels, The Seasons of the Year and
The Thaw. These exposed some of the seamier side of Soviet
life. Both books discuss graft and petty thievery, crookedness
and double dealing on the part of Soviet officials. They do not
conceal other human weaknesses such as dissimulation, drun;'k-
enness and jealousy. They describe the longings of people for a
better life, for more comfort and for safety from the secret
police. Ehrenburg even had his lovers talking about love, instead
of about "higher productivity for the glory of the motherland."
Both Ehrenburg and Panova were reprimanded for "exag-
gerating" and for an "impermissible exercise of personal arbi-
trariness," but they did not lose their membership in the Union
of Writers.
The writer's need for at least some freedom, if only to make
good propaganda outside the U.S.S.R., has apparently now been
recognized in the U.S.S.R. However, Soviet literature clearly
remains the handmaiden and vassal of the Party.
In Moscow I lunched with Konstantin Simonov, one of the
half-dozen leading writers of Russia, a poet, playwright and
novelist. Simonov had denounced Ehrenburg's book. I asked
Simonov if in his new play, "A Love Affair," the lovers talk
about the need for higher levels of productivity. He replied,
"Well, people do talk about the need for more production."
For their subservience to "State purposes," Soviet writers
like Simonov are well rewarded in money and in prestige. They
receive generous royalties; and those whose works sell best are
authentic "millionaires," with cars and chauffeurs, town apart-
ments, country homes in the suburbs and dachas in the sunny
Crimea. They are like the commercial writers in the United
Under the pounding of criticism and denunciation many States. They give the client what he wants, and are very well
writers sou ht was of escape. So ce ed rodu ' A8/2 aic1~ u dt t s he li nt ma be CBS, Gen-
g y Approved acre e~ase 0 ~' C % - ~~ 0 v 31 R~~O OOG 0029-3
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Above, left: Gear cutting machine opera-
tor of Sverdlovsk posing proudly in front
of sign showing his production pledge of
30 annual quotas
Above, centre: A "Hero of Socialist La-
bour" broadcasting over a local collective
farm radio network, telling farmers meth-
ods of increasing production
Left: Members of the MVD, secret police,
pose on the steps of their office in Alma-
Ate
PROPAGANDA AND PATRIOTISM
Below, left: Honour boards in public parks display photographs and descriptions of workers
with outstanding production records
Below, right: Parades and celebrations mark important national anniversaries, such as this one
in 1954 in honour of the tercentenary of the reunion of the Ukraine with Russia
Above: Election posters on a Moscow billboard
during voting for membership on the Supreme
Soviet in 1954
Below: Matrices of Pravda newspaper, Moscow,
being loaded into mailing tubes for shipment to
outlying cities. Local newspapers have limited
space for local news
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eral Motors, the Saturday Evening Post or MGM. In Russia,
it is only the Party. And the Party seeks only propaganda, for
its own ends and for those of the Soviet State.
How Culture Is Organized
Astride the entire area of the arts, including the popular
arts, rides the Ministry of Culture. This is an all-powerful
body in its domains. Its functions are difficult for an American
to comprehend. Mr. Nazarov sketched out for me the areas
covered by his ministry: (i) the creation and production of
films; (2) theatres and music; (3) representative or pictorial
art; (4) radio and TV; (5) publishing houses, exclusive of
newspapers (not all publishing houses are under the Ministry
of Culture, but the ministry coordinates all); (6) the printing
trades; (7) books, including the operation of book stores; and
(8) cultural enlightenment.
Each of these eight divisions is manifestly a gigantic enter-
prise. I was particularly impressed by the scope of number
eight, which is perhaps comparable with everything that hap-
pens in what some people in the United States like to call the
field of "adult education." Under cultural enlightenment come
the libraries, and Nazarov claimed 400,000 of them; the cul-
tural clubs or centres, of which there are scores of thousands;
the museums; the village reading houses; and the palaces of
culture. These last are the large new and fancy buildings that
dot the Soviet landscape and in which the cultural activities of
the communities centre.
Skachko, whose Ministry of Culture in Kiev covers the
Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, with its 42,000,000 popu-
lation, and which reports up to the Ministry in Moscow, out-
lined a somewhat similar scheme of organization. Its theatrical
division, for example, operates 74 theatres. There were only
seven under the Czar, Skachko claims. The control of the
theatres, of course, brings the ministry into close touch with
the Union of Writers. How can the writers do their work for
the theatre, Skachko wanted to know, unless they know what
will be produced? His version of the Moscow ministry's "cul-
tural enlightenment" included the supervision of "35,000 librar-
ies containing irr,ooo,ooo books which serve 5,ooo,ooo regular
readers; and 70,000 amateur `circles' for painting, drama, ballet
and music, with i,ooo,ooo members."
The chief glory of the Soviet Union in the field of the arts
remains the ballet, the opera and other forms of music, and the
classical theatre. These are the arts which have proved least
susceptible to "socialist realism." The contemporary theatre
is as blighted in its writing as the contemporary novel; but
Shakespeare and other great Western drama is widely popular,
along with many of the Russian classics. Simonov told me there
are about 550 to 570 full-time theatrical companies playing
throughout the U.S.S.R. This is on a scale which must far
exceed, several times over, that of all the nations of the West
put together.
As was shown by the United Press dispatch quoted at the
beginning of this section, attempts have been made to convert
Soviet music to "socialist realism." For example, composers
have been urged to weave folk melodies into their settings.
But Soviet music, its composers, opera companies, orchestras
and soloists, still remain outstanding by Western standards.
As for the ballet, that is purely classical, and in a tradition
going back almost two centuries. I visited not only the ballet
in Leningrad, but also the great ballet school maintained by
the Bolshoi theatre in Moscow. Everywhere in the U.S.S.R. the
ballet is superb. There are 30 great companies and ii full-
io and turn them out as ballet performers at age i9. But even
the Moscow ballet school has its propaganda task. Students
come from all i6 of the Soviet republics to be trained in folk
dancing. They also come from the "People's democracies." And,
of course, the ballet is sent outside Russia, even last year to
Paris. The Soviet propagandists seek to make the ballet a sym-
bol of the glory of the Soviet arts.
Sir John Maynard, a not unfriendly historian of Russia, has
written, in his Russia in Flux:
"The terrifying efficiency of organized propaganda, eliminat-
ing truth by calculated suppression and misrepresentation, and
dinning the prescribed formulas into the ears of millions pre-
pared for their reception by universal education, is ominous
of a more complete regimentation than any merely negative
censorship. The Czars only played with control', of thought: their
worthy and somewhat somnolent (not to say thick-headed)
censors passed the most transparently subversive suggestions.
The greatest innovation of the Bolsheviks in the `bear's corner'
of old Russia is an efficient administration. Their orders go right
through to the bottom. They have harnessed the writers and
artists themselves to their censorship: they have secured an
effective monopoly of truth, and filled the market with their
own brand of the article, and the smuggler of the precious
commodity has little chance of competition with merchants in
whom all powers are concentrated."
SOVIET MOVIES, RADIO AND TELEVISION
In these areas as in all other fields of communication, every
technique centres on teaching and instructing; the public, or at
least on conditioning it, according to the lights of the Com-
munist Party.
The function of providing entertainment or diversion, domi-
nant in American movies, is only a secondary motive in Russian
movies. In radio and television, the Russian and American sys-
tems grow closer together. In the United States, the entertain-
ment is used to attract the audience so that the advertiser can
project his sales story; the Soviets use the entertainment to
develop an audience for their political propaganda. In the
U.S.S.R., the political indoctrination of radio and TV becomes
the "commercial."
In all three fields, there is a limit beyond which the Russians
cannot go with their propaganda.
A communication system devoted largely to propaganda or to
instruction needs a monopoly position and a captive audience.
The Russian newspapers are a good example. The audience for
newspapers can be made captive only if there is no other way
of satisfying the thirst for news-or if subscription is compul-
sory. This is the situation in the U.S.S.R. American editors
must compete to catch and hold the readers' interest; the Soviet
editors need not.
However, the Soviets must limit or trim the dosage of propa-
ganda when the audience can't easily be made captive. This is
true in the arts such as the theatre and ballet. It is also true of
some of the mass media. A theatregoer can attend the ballet
rather than a propaganda play. Or he can stay home or go to
the park. The same is true of a movie-goer. The radio listener
or TV viewer can turn off the set.
Yet the Communists constantly strive for greater and greater
propaganda impact through radio, TV and the movies, even. at
the risk of cutting down on the appeal of the product to the
point where it may lose a part of its audience or its effective-
ness. The Communist Party once noted that new plays being
time schools which *p --the R'&64i 20 /0 p21 iQ r8 ((? Q '~11 O~UD 0 3a~nce of the ruin-
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istries of culture were submitteT-for examination to "the local
art boards, the Republican Committees on Arts, the Chief Rep-
ertoire Board, the Central Theatre Department of the Commit-
tee on Arts, the Art Council of that committee, to theatre di-
rectors, editors of periodicals and officials of publishing houses."
This process will insure simon-pure Communist plays; it will
also guarantee in most cases plays that are uninspired and dull.
Motion pictures, likewise produced under the. ministries of
culture, suffer not only from the rigid formula of "socialist
realism" but also from the cumbersome machinery which
emerges from the foregoing example. Orthodoxy is purchased at
a high price, in terms of both boring films and long delays. For
the next two years the Ministry of Culture has prescribed a
quota of more than 200 original feature films. Based on past rec-
ords, it is doubtful that half that number will actually be pro-
duced.
The topics chosen for filming are keyed to the over-all politi-
cal purposes of the Party. A representative post-war film, pro-
duced in 1948 while the anti-American campaign was in full
swing, was called Court of Honor. This depicts the trial by their
fellow scientists of two Soviet medical researchers who have in-
vented a new anaesthetic. One of the pair, Losev, is accused of
disclosing his discovery to American scientists at a world medi-
cal congress in the U.S. Losev tries to explain, "We cannot iso-
late our Russian science from the world! People are sick every-
where. States have borders, but science has none." But Losev is
accused by the Party secretary in the medical institute of "help-
ing those who want to drag humanity into the inferno of a new
war . . . From whom did you want recognition? From foreign
shopkeepers, moneylenders, hired murderers?" Losev is un-
masked as a "traitor" and punished.
Many forthcoming films will deal with the changes brought
about by the Soviet domination over the peoples living in
Asiatic Russia and in the former borderlands of Czarist Rus-
sia. The post-Stalin regime has pushed the economic develop-
ment of these areas vigorously. Khrushchev himself has been
the foremost exponent of cultivating the virgin lands and graz-
ing areas of central Asia.
One motion picture of this venture, The Daughter of the
Steppe, has already been produced. This is the story of a peas-
ant girl who leaves her home in a desolate region of central Asia
to study in Moscow. Returning to her home as a doctor of medi-
cine (a nice achievement in itself) she finds it completely trans-
figured. The government's decision to till previously fallow land
has caused the area to bustle with the activity of happy and pur-
poseful people engaged in "glorious socialist construction."
The subject matter of Communist motion pictures also came
into my conversation later in Prague with the chief of the film
division of the Ministry of Culture of Czechoslovakia, a Mr.
Hoffman. When I asked what kind of entertainment films he
was making and planned to make, he said that emphasis in the
next year would be on "films dealing with Czechoslovakia's great
heroes and artists, with special stress on the greatest period of
Czech history." I asked him what this period might be and,
manifestly surprised that I felt it necessary to ask, he replied,
"The period of the Hussite movement, of course." (John Huss,
Bohemian religious reformer, was burned at the stake for heresy
after his conviction by an ecclesiastical commission in 1415.)
The first of three films in a trilogy on the Hussite movement,
John Huss, has already been released. When I asked Hoffman to
describe for me how this film and the second of the trilogy,
Battle of God, now in production, would differ from films on
the subject which might have been made in 1938 or even as late
as 1947 before the Communist coup in Czechoslovakia, he re-
plied: "This is a very simple matter. This is a question of ide-
ology. In 1938 our films were made from the capitalists' point
of view. After 1948, all films have been made from the workers'
point of view. We stress the progressive role in Czech history of
the people. We show that the people have played the biggest
part in the development of this history. In our films the people
become the heroes, not the emperors and kings. The great de-
velopments of Czech history have stemmed from those that
have been ruled rather than from the rulers."
The only motion picture theatre I was able to attend in the
U.S.S.R. was an open-air movie (not a drive-in!) in Kiev, when
the temperature was about 40? F. More interesting to me than
the feature was the newsreel. By our standards, it was largely
party and government propaganda. It included shots of a
mayor's conference in Trieste, featuring the mayor of Moscow;
a travelling Soviet dance group in Paris; the arrival in Moscow
of two New Zealand officials; the arrival of a British naval fleet
in Leningrad, and the departure of a Soviet fleet for a return
courtesy call in England; the opening of a new coal mine; a new
tractor capable of operating in swampy terrain; and a style
show in Moscow, including styles for 6- and 7-year-old children.
I was told that the inclusion of footage filmed abroad is new
since 1953.
I could not get any figures on the number of foreign films
shown in the U.S.S.R., or on the attendance at Soviet movie
theatres. With adaptations in the sound tracks of imports from
the 15 other Soviet Socialist Republics, as well as from the
"People's democracies," there are perhaps in excess of 20o new
feature films available annually in the U.S.S.R. and the satel-
lites. Mr. Uzhely of Hungary told me he had imported eight
Chinese films since the war; also many films from West Europe
of which the Italian films were most numerous because they
were "most realistic." My interview with Uzhely persuaded me
that few American films would be shown in Russia even if
Hollywood offered them to the Iron Curtain countries for noth-
ing. The U.S. films do not conform to the standards of "social-
ist realism."
Educational and Classroom Films
Bureaucracy and the propaganda strait jacket have blighted
the Soviet production of "entertainment" films. But the same
cannot be said of either the production. or use of Soviet films
for education.
As Chairman of the Board of Directors of Encyclopedia
Britannica Films Inc., which has pioneered in the production of
classroom films in the United States, and which is by far the
free world's largest producer of such films, I was particularly
interested in Soviet activity in this field. In the U.S. growth has
been very slow. More than a quarter century of patient work
has gone into demonstrating the value of this new tool for edu-
cation. Bit by bit individual teachers, school administrators and
school boards must be won over. By contrast, in the U.S.S.R.
with its system of decrees from the top down, development in
this field, once begun, has been most rapid. We in the U.S. are
still ahead in the technique of making classroom films (the Rus-
sian films are like our "documentaries," and are not closely in-
tegrated into the curriculum). But the Russians seem to be
forging rapidly ahead of us in the classroom use of films and in
the production of films in quantity.
Mr. Kairov, Minister of Education, told me "the use of the
film is of tremendous importance." He has the authority and he
can demand action. In 1953, he told me, there had been a gov-
ernment decree under which "our Ministry of Education is
called upon to develop mobile apparatus and films for the
schools; and the Ministry of Culture which makes the films for
the theatres must make films for us in accordance with our re-
quests and directions." Kairov added that the use of films in
education is only "at the beginning."
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en on b
Left: Scene from a dramatic program being
telecast from Moscow
Below, left: Soviet sculpture and painting
by art students at the U.S.S.R. Academy of
Arts, Moscow
Below, right: The Tschaikovsky museum in
Klin showing the composer's piano
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enton Reports
THE ARTS
Right: Scene from the motion-picture version of the
opera Boris Godunov with A. Piragov as Boris. The
film was in production in 1955
Below: Visitors at an exhibition of 15th-20th century
French art displayed at the Pushkin State museum, Mos-
cow, in Nov. 1955. Shown on the wall are paintings by
Paul Gauguin
Bottom, left: Young dancers training for the ballet at a
school in Moscow
Below: Composer Dmitri Shostakovich performing with the Lenin-
grad State Philharmonic orchestra
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is Benton Reports
But the present activity in this field in the U.S.S.R., so far as
I was able to observe it, looks like far more than a "begin-
ning" when contrasted to where we are in the U.S. and when we
recall how long it has taken us to get there. I had a chance to
study the 1954 catalogue of films for educational purposes put
out by the Ministry of Culture in Moscow. It ran 206 pages
and listed 937 titles grouped around the following areas of
knowledge: natural sciences, agriculture, technology and con-
struction, medicine, preventive medicine, physical culture and
sports, culture and art, and fire fighting and traffic regulations.
As specific examples, under the section on astronomy there were
films on the universe, on thunder and lightning, solar and lunar
eclipses, the rainbow, the changing of the seasons, and on the
sun. Under physics, there were titles such as A Drop of Water,
In the World of Crystals, In the Laboratory of the Sun, Rays
of the Spectrum, Marked Atoms, and so on.
Many of these 937 films were produced primarily as educa-
tional shorts to accompany feature films in theatres, but are
offered also for use on TV or other nontheatrical use, including
that in the schools. However, many films primarily for class-
rooms are produced by the ministries of culture, and io of the
33 Soviet universities make and exchange motion pictures.
In Kiev, at the Film Studio of the Ministry of Culture, I saw
two films which were made for school use. One was a good
straightforward picture about the coke industry (very impor-
tant in the Ukrainian S.S.R.). The other was titled The Story
of the Note Book. It opened with a fourth- or fifth-grade teach-
er holding up her pupils' notebooks and admonishing her class
on their care. Some of the notebooks had smudges on them,
some had fingerprints and some had sloppy writing. She told her
pupils that she wanted them to appreciate the large amount of
work that went into producing a notebook, so that they would
have better respect for their notebooks. The film faded into a
still photograph in her classroom. This was of lumbermen felling
great pine trees. Suddenly the photograph began to move, and
the movie went into a very creditable pictorial dramatization
of the making of paper from the pine tree right through to the
notebook, with the teacher's voice narrating throughout. At the
end, back in the classroom, the pupils were standing up and
swearing that henceforward they would treat their notebooks
with deserved respect. This was a creditable classroom picture
by our standards.
In the Ukrainian S.S.R. the schools are
units with projectors. Some schools have
served by mobile
special projection
rooms. The goal of a projector-in-every-classroom has not yet
been achieved in the U.S.S.R., but at the present rates of prog-
ress the Soviets will achieve this goal decades before the U.S.
gets one in every four classrooms. I accidentally discovered
that the University of Moscow has a professorship on the sci-
ence of making motion pictures; there is no such chair in the
U.S. to my knowledge.
Better to understand the significance of the foregoing para-
graph, a reader must cover the opening two sections of this
article, and also the final section. If the Soviet Union is going
to surge ahead of the U.S. in the adoption and mastery of the
modern techniques of education, this can promise an ever-
widening gap in their favour in the training of the skilled man-
power which will inevitably play a major role in the world of
the future.
The adoption by the schools of the United States of modern
teaching aids and techniques, in which they are now so back-
ward, is no longer a mere matter of local concern for our towns
and cities. Such adoption is critical to the competitive struggle
with the Russians which now faces us whether we like it or not
-and which promises to deepen and intensify in the years
Broadcasting
Broadcasting within the Soviet Union, both radio and tele-
vision, is far less thoroughly exploited for propaganda purposes
than we Americans might suppose, in view of our own experi-
ence with its potentialities in advertising and politics. The Rus-
sians know that if they push too hard, the people will turn off
the sets. Thus radio and TV are used chiefly for music and the
other arts.
In Moscow, I talked with Mr. Andreev, deputy in charge of
radio and television; and with Mr. Zimin and Mr. Jouravlev,
both of whom, although in the Ministry of Foreign Trade, are
involved with the exporting, importing and production of motion
pictures and thus with TV. In Kiev, Mr. Skachko, Deputy Min-
ister of Culture, had enlightened me about broadcasting in the
Ukrainian S.S.R. The statements below are drawn largely from
these interviews. I believe them to be reasonably accurate, but
I have no way of double checking.
There were 10,000,000 radio receiving sets in the U.S.S.R. in
1953 (compared with iio,ooo,ooo in the U.S.). In addition there
were 30,000,000 loud-speakers in meeting places, on the streets,
etc., wired to community antennas. One is exposed to these
everywhere.
The Moscow radio offers three programs, on three different
stations, totalling 48 hours a day, with one of the programs
always available throughout the 24 hours. Music and drama
constitute 8o% of the total program output (more than 50% is
"fine music"). The other 20% is "oral." The oral includes news,
international affairs, sports, popular science, agriculture, talks
by people prominent in industry and the arts, and children's
programs.
There are popular-type lectures on economics and Marxism
for adults. There is no politics on programs for children under
ten "because they wouldn't listen," but for older youngsters "we
try to give them an idea of what is happening; in the world--
and one lecture a week is to help them understand Marxism as
taught them in the schools."
Television stations are operating in Moscow, Kiev, Riga,
Talin, Kharkov, Sverdlovsk, Nalchik, Krasnodov, Omsk, Tomsk,
and Vladivostok. These now operate separately and independ-
ently "but extensive work is under way to develop a relay sys-
tem." By 1958 it is planned to have 51 TV stations in opera-
tion, tied into a network. Moscow is to have three stations, one
using colour.
At present i,ooo,ooo receivers are in use (mostly 12-in., I
gather, from seeing those on sale in stores), exclusive of those
in factories and public places. Six to seven million receivers are
planned by 1958. (There were 33,500,000 TV receivers in the
U.S. in 1955 but only about 7,000,000 to io,ooo,ooo outside
the U.S.)
Stations are programmed from 7:10 P.M. until 12:30 A.M.
weekdays, 6:oo P.M. to midnight Saturdays, and Sundays from
2:00 P.M. until 11 :30 P.M.
The bulk of TV programming consists of two types: first, the
major dramatic productions, both live and on film, as well as
operatic and ballet performances, all live, many running 22 or
3 hours or even longer; and second, films, both feature and edu-
cational, with the feature films running about 9o min. each.
These latter are available to TV six to eight days after they
are released to theatres; the 3o-min. educational films are avail-
able simultaneously or even before. Newsreels are made espe-
cially for TV, and there are some "exchanges" with other coun-
tries. These exchanges seem to include purchases from a com-
pany in the U.S. called Tele-News. Mr. Andreev said, "Your
American company Tele-News covered the Soviet farmers' visit
to the United States very well indeed and from their material
ahead, with ever greater and reater stake' involved. we roduced three ro rams."
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Skachko claimed that by 1960 the Ukrainian S.S.R. would Hungary the Communist control of communications goes back
enjoy television coverage of more than 9o% of all homes. He only a little more than a decade, and in Czechoslovakia only
said that this would be better coverage than any in Europe. This eight years. Some observers will tell a visitor that the Commu-
prediction may show the TV trend throughout the U.S.S.R., and nist indoctrination and propaganda have thus far largely failed.
I believe it does. Because the Russians understand propaganda Western observers stationed in Prague agree that, in Czecho-
and believe in it, after the full potency of TV has been given slovakia, perhaps no more than half of the 35% who voted
an experimental demonstration, they will move rapidly ahead to Communist in the last free election, just before the Communist
expand TV coverage. They will seek better to learn how to coup of 1948, would so vote in a free election today. In Hun-
exploit TV for the benefit of the Party and State. (This will gary the estimate is that the Communists could get no more
also apply outside the U.S.S.R., as has been true with radio. than between 5% and 1o% of a free vote, with possibly only
In Helsinki I learned of a Russian TV station, just over the 1 % in the rural areas.
border, broadcasting Finnish programs. There are no TV sta- Here are five basic differences between the U.S.S.R. and the
tions within Finland, but TV sets are being bootlegged.) satellites which must be borne in mind in judging the present
Right now, there is a great shortage of sets throughout areas progress of the Communist program of indoctrination:
covered by TV. A set costs about a month's pay, but the pay is (1) Because Communists have been in control of the satel-
low. Actually the cost of the set is low in roubles if judged by lites for a decade or less, or one-fourth as long as they have con-
U.S. dollar prices. Costs will stay low, as with newspapers, be- trailed Russia, the first generation is still dominant. This is the
cause the Soviet government gladly sacrifices revenue in return generation among whom it is most difficult to win converts.
for propaganda, and TV sets are likely to remain in short sup- (2) Since the Communists are in power as conquerors, they
ply for years. Why should they not, when they give to the have less success when they attempt to appeal to the emotion
Soviet buyer such easy access to the great world of the theatre, of patriotism. This was the emotion so successfully played
ballet, opera and first-run movies? With such a bill of fare, for upon by the Soviet leaders within Russia during World War II.
a nation starved for entertainment and escapism, the political Because within the satellites the revolutionary formula is im-
indoctrination via broadcasting may be as easy for most of the ported rather than native, it does not easily or quickly com-
Russian people to take as our commercials have proved to be mand the same fervour.
easy-to-take-for our people in the U.S. (3) The cultures of Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia
have for centuries been oriented toward the West, with empha-
sis on the standards and achievements of the West, and mixed
There is little sign that Soviet leaders propose to relax their with contempt-beyond any warranted-for Russia. These coun-
monopoly of the movies, radio or TV within the areas they tries still remain closer to the West than to ?the East, both emo-
control. Just as they give little indication that they want tionally and physically. Reorientation toward Russia is difficult
American movies, so they shrug their shoulders when asked and will take time.
about Soviet jamming of Western radio broadcasts. One top (4) Because of the great waves of emigration in the first
official replied to my query, "that is a political question." Others quarter of this century, millions of families in East Europe have
refused to discuss the i,ooo jammers which are now operating relatives living in the West. Furthermore, the satellite people
and which seem increasingly effective in obliterating American are more accessible to the West. They have more radios than
and British broadcasts, and in shielding the Russian citizens the Russians, and more success in listening despite some jam-
from exposure to anything except the orchestration of the ming.
Soviet propagandists. (5) The great majority of east Europeans share religious ties
with the West. And many observers I talked with, including
SOME OBSERVATIONS ON SOVIETIZING one Communist official, said that church attendance today is
THE SATELLITES higher than before the war; this is most certainly so in Poland,
where I learned that the people kneel in front of the crowded
Thirty-eight years after the 1917 October Revolution the churches during Sunday services.) Poland in the last pre-Com-
Soviet Union presents to the West the picture of a full-blown munist survey was 99% Roman Catholic. Czechoslovakia was
psychological mass disaster. In the satellite countries I visited- 65% Roman Catholic and 30% Protestant. Hungary was 63%
the "People's Democracies" of Poland, Hungary and Czecho- Roman Catholic and 32% Protestant. Thus in all three countries
slovakia-the seeds of disaster have been planted and are now church and home can combine to try to offset the orientation
being fertilized and cultivated. young people receive through the schools and the public media
My stays were too brief for much first-hand analysis. Many of communication,
of my impressions and opinions came from men who impressed The new Communist regimes, under the spur of the Kremlin,
me as being competent and knowledgeable and who live in these are thus confronted with stupendous psychological hurdles, far
countries as diplomats from the West-some of them for years more difficult than their masters face in Moscow. Their prog-
and even decades-and whose job it is to understand and report ress must be judged against the enormity of the task. Since they
on what's going on. I also interviewed many native-born Poles, consolidated their political power after the war, they have waged
Hungarians and Czechs who are Communist officials. their own type of unrelenting war against old values and tradi-
There are major differences between the Soviet Union on the tional attitudes. They have attacked the citadel of the mind with
one hand, and these three satellites on the other; there are unabating vigour. They have attempted to carry out nothing less
also very great differences among the three satellites. What than a massive spiritual and psychological revolution.
they have in common, in the field of communications, is the Even to a hurried visitor, the surface manifestations of this
absolute monopoly power of the Communist Party. Because of campaign of "re-education" are everywhere in evidence. New
this, it is my unhappy judgment that, unless its power is broken, buildings-for example, the great towering Palace of Culture in
the Party's psychological success in the Soviet Union bodes ill Warsaw, "the gift of the Russian people to the Polish people"-
for the satellites during the decades ahead. reflect the architectural style in vogue in Russia. Theatre mar-
At a first casual inspection, the Party's propaganda suc- quees once ablaze with English, French and German titles now
cesses in East Europe do not seem too striking. In Poland and display native or Russian titles. Bookstores, once famous for
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W enton epor s
their variety of foreign books in French, German and English,
are now replete with Russian Marxist-approved classics. The
make-up of local newspapers bears the unmistakable imprint of
their Soviet model.
But the revolution wrought by the Communists cuts even
deeper. Every satellite institution concerned with ideas, from
academies of science to the teaching of poster design, has been
reorganized. The administrative machinery of broadcasting and
motion pictures, the editorial offices of newspapers, the adminis-
tration and operation of the opera, ballet and theatre, all were
thoroughly overhauled to bring them in line with currently pre-
vailing Soviet models. Further, just as in the U.S.S.R., vast
ministries of culture have been developed to promote Commu-
nism on every cultural and communications front.
In'the Soviet Union the attack on religion had opened with
a frontal assault against religion as such. In the satellites the
opening moves were aimed at subordinating organized religious
bodies to the will of Party and State. Instead of seeking to
abolish religion, the Communists have dreamt of infiltrating re-
ligious institutions and thus corrupting them into tools of the
State. In recent years such infiltration seems to have succeeded
in Russia with the remnants of the Russian Orthodox Church.
The relative restraint in religion with the subject people of
the satellites, dictated in part by. fear of costly resistance, has
not been duplicated in other fields. Perhaps the best quick ex-
ample is the educational system. This has been profoundly
shaken up. Curriculums and textbooks have been drastically re-
vised. Teachers have been indoctrinated and re-indoctrinated.
The satellite schools have been geared to turn out capable prac-
tical specialists and technicians, just as in the Soviet system.
There has been a great increase in scientific and technical sub-
jects as in the U.S.S.R. The amount and depth of Marxist-
Leninist indoctrination have been even more pronounced than
in the Soviet Union. The satellite texts and instruction are even
more obviously infused with propaganda. In Poland something
like one-fifth of the total number of class hours in elementary
and secondary schools are devoted to "political" propaganda
and other useful "social tasks."
In Hungary, Mr. Ibos, of the Ministry of Culture, described
the change to me in the language of Communism: "Our educa-
tional system has been reorganized along scientific lines." He
meant along the lines of dialectical materialism. Behind the Iron
Curtain this is the foundation of "science."
In Czechoslovakia even the revised textbooks were attacked
in 1951 as too "modest in presenting Marxist-Leninist ideology."
They did not teach the youth "to love Stalin and Gottwald ...
the Soviet Army and the Czech Secret Police." The texts failed
to emphasize the "community of interests between Czechoslo-
vakia and the U.S.S.R." Geography texts were still under the
"influence of bourgeois objectivism and cosmopolitanism." The
selection of illustrations of bourgeois countries showed "natural
beauties such as mountains, rivers*and art treasures," and not
"the real face of capitalism, such as slums, beggars, etc...."
History texts still "treated the pre-Munich republic with kid
gloves." They did not show "its true reactionary face" and did
not distinguish sufficiently between it and the "People's Demo-
cratic Republics."
Russian has supplanted other languages as the number one
compulsory foreign language. It is required in Hungary and
Czechoslovakia from the fifth grade up. In. Poland,. it is'admitted
that more than 6o% of fifth graders are studying Russian.. My
interpreter chatted with Czech children in Russian on the
streets of Prague.
The Communists claim there are 300,000" subscribers,-to
U.S.S.R. newspapers in Czechoslovakia alone. Soviet cultural
Soviet literature. Translations of Russian works have multiplied.
The satellite peoples, who never previously had much taste for
Russian literature, are now being introduced to it with a ven-
geance. The sales of Russian language books have shot up. In
Hungary, Russian books now sell about i,ooo,ooo copies yearly.
In Czechoslovakia the figure is three times greater.
In view of the handicaps they faced, the ominous fact is not
that the Communists have made but little progress in the con-
version of the satellite peoples. It is that they have made some
progress, and some significant progress. This often seems most
notable among the intellectuals who frequently set the styles for
the next generation.
The Soviet attempt at the conversion of entire peoples, and
peoples who enjoy a higher level of education and sophistication
than the Russians-in a few years or even a few decades-is a
major offensive effort which is both new and startling. In my
judgment, and I believe most expert observers in these coun-
tries concur with this, the Soviet monopoly of power over edu-
cation and the media of communications, plus the turn of the
generations, put the odds on the Communists, if they retain
their power. Much of the popular resistance to indoctrination in
the satellites has rested on hopes of liberation. These hopes are
fading. As they fade, the grave danger is that the resilience of
opposition will diminish.
In their new-type psychological war of attrition, the Commu-
nists have a powerful arsenal of weapons. To the captive peo-
ples, they seem firmly and ever more permanently entrenched
in power. The possibilities of success for internal revolt in east
Europe are dismissed even by outspokenly disloyal elements.
Russia's nearness, as well as the presence of Russian armed
forces stationed in Poland and Hungary, discourages hope of
successful opposition to the U.S.S.R. even if the present local
regimes could be overthrown.
However, we of the West, like the satellite peoples them-
selves, can reasonably hope that recognition Within Russia and
outside it will grow that the military strategic importance of
these "buffer" countries, so much stressed by military historians,
has faded under the impact of the aeroplane and the new weap-
ons. Many now hope for a spread of so-called Titoism, and
indeed I believe that there is every possibility that Russian
policy will develop so as to favour more local autonomy for
subject peoples. Inevitably, changes must come within the Rus-
sian hierarchy and government; and these may most unex-
pectedly and constructively affect the chances of the satellites
for a greater measure of freedom. Indeed, the only sure predic-
tion about the future within Russia is that there will be changes
in the power structure.
Although the influence of Western culture is still strong
throughout the satellite countries, it now appears to mary ob-
servers to be a waning asset of the West. Th:h may not neces-
sarily turn out to be so, particularly if we in the United States
do a better job to keep it alive. Our U.S. foreign policy should
seek in every legitimate way to nourish Western influence. We
should do far more than we are doing at present-for the refu-
gees, in propaganda, in so-called "cultural relations," and on
every available front. We should make no promises beyond our
capacity to deliver.
We should and indeed must play for the long term and not
the short. Above all, we must never give up hope. Year-in-and-
year-out, and administration-in-and-administration-out, the long
range interest and welfare of these captive people should con-
tinue to be a major goal in the United States foreign policy.
This goal should be ours not because we are bound to these
people by emotional ties, nor because our efforts may turn out
to serve their best interests. This goal should be ours because it
outlets have been created throughout the satellites to onularize is also in America's own best interest and greatest tradition.
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A FEW CLOSING CM MENTS AND Powerful as thhoviet propaganda may be, may not the
SUGGESTIONS Soviet leaders, when they expected it to change human nature,
The year 1955 saw a small but definite gain in communication
between the two great areas of this tense and troubled world.
Though the smiling Geneva conference of July was followed by
a grim Geneva conference in November, the net at year's end
was a slight advance toward understanding, an inching lift in
the Iron Curtain.
During the year, the "hate" element of Soviet propaganda
against the U.S., both at home and abroad, was relaxed. Unfor-
tunately, we Americans cannot assume that this shift reflects
any change of heart on the part of the Communist leaders. The
last years of the Stalin era were unusually severe, even by
Soviet standards. The moderate relaxation since Stalin's death
in 1953 doesn't necessarily mean more than a return to earlier
practices.
Stalin's last years were marked by a tightening of the Party's
reins over all media of communication and by harsher and ever
harsher demands for conformity. In some degree this was due to
a hardening of Stalin's own personal attitude in the declining
years of his life. To an even greater degree, it was the in-
evitable aftermath of war. The urgent needs of the fighting had
led to neglect of the ideological training conceived as a neces-
sity by Soviet leaders. Further, many Soviet citizens had been
directly or indirectly exposed to Western propaganda. Worse
from the Party standpoint, many for the first time had come
into contact with Westerners and the West. The effect of such
exposure was often devastating. The "decadent West," even in
some of its less lustrous manifestations in the Balkans, did not
conform to the image which Soviet propaganda had painted.
The material comforts and the cultural achievements of the
"rotten bourgeois nations" astonished the Soviet soldiers. Their
exposure to the West revealed not only the backwardness of the
Soviet Union but also the falsehoods of Soviet propaganda.
To combat this war-induced background, in 1945 and 1946
the Communist Party launched a major campaign of spiritual
decontamination. Stalin's aim was to quarantine the entire Rus-
sian and satellite populations against "harmful outside influ-
ences." With his death, the pressures relaxed.
Thus many observers now report a decline in the Soviet
regime's ideological fervour. As the Communists had increas-
ingly entrenched themselves throughout the 193os and 1940s,
they had been compelled to face up to the problems of day-by-
day management of a huge governmental structure. Their
dreams of world revolution had receded into the future. Many
experts today predict still further recession of this dream into a
still mistier future.
The heroic days of the 1917 Revolution are remembered viv-
idly today by only a very few. The dynamism the Revolution
unleashed, and the enthusiasm and pioneering spirit it en-
gendered, have long since been muted. Compromises had to be
made. Retreats from some extreme positions became obvious
necessities. The recklessness which was characteristic of the
192os, say many observers, by now has matured into a new
form of relative conservatism.
Measured against its highest claim-to alter human nature
and create on a mass scale a new kind of human being-Com-
munist propaganda has obviously failed. In his later years, Stalin
seemed to have decided, as it were, to make a last desperate
thrust to create the "new Soviet man," the dream man of Soviet
propaganda. He seemed to be seeking to force people to conform
to the theoretical standards of conduct which he had laid down.
But today as always, the Russians are easily recognizable as
human beings like the rest of us, with the same human strengths
may not they themselves have been victims of it? If they be-
lieved this phase of their propaganda, they expected far too
much. They seem now belatedly to be conceding that they no
longer hope to achieve the impossible. But if they abandon
their effort to create their dream man, they can console them-
selves with the fact that all other efforts, which have sought
substantially or quickly to change human nature on a mass
scale, have also failed.
Measured against, and compared with, other propaganda cam-
paigns in history-and some have gone on for centuries, in con-
trast with the 38 years of intensified Red effort-the Com-
munist propaganda achievement must be conceded to be a major
one. Within Russia and the satellites, the Red propaganda has
of course been bolstered by an unprecedented combination of
terror and incentives. But we in the West will make a great mis-
take, and such a mistake can prove very dangerous to us, if
because of this combination which we so intensely detest, we
therefore underrate the achievements of the propaganda.
For 25 years or perhaps longer, most Soviet leaders have
perceived that the interests of the Soviet state demand the edu-
cation of new generations equipped to cope with a multitude of
specialized and practical problems. The Soviet system has now
reached a point of development where it continues to regenerate
itself with an adequate and expanding supply of able and
dedicated young leaders and administrators.
From this Soviet need for highly trained men may evolve one
of the great decisive questions of our century. It is now shaping
up within the Soviet Union in these terms: can the Communists
increasingly educate a whole people, and in the technical fields
up to the highest level of their capabilities, without undermin-
ing the people's faith in Communism itself? Can they produce
a generation that is creative and original in all fields except in
politics and economics-and unquestioning and obedient, in
these?
Allen Dulles suggests a negative answer to these question
He suggests that universal education, up to a high level, may
prove to be the Achilles' heel of Communism. Traditionally in
the West, education has emphasized the role of the individual.
It has encouraged the open mind, the questioning mind. It has
attempted to stimulate originality and creativeness. Such quali-
ties have been regarded as vital for the progress of society as
well as for the development of the individual's own highest
powers. To protect the unorthodox thinker on our Western uni-
versity faculties, we give the professor permanent tenure; after
his early years, he can't be fired even if he specializes in opin-
ions unpopular in his field of scholarship. We have had many
experiences which demonstrate to us in the West that the
unpopular theory of today may tomorrow turn out to be th
key to wisdom.
How then can the Communists rival our progress if
stifle unpopular theory? Can they indeed develop the
originality and resourcefulness in science and technology
out losing their monolithic cohesion? Can they devel
productivity to levels which match ours and still main
dedication to a dogma that seems to us so obviously warped and
cockeyed?
My studies and observations lead me to suggest the growing
possibility of an affirmative answer to these questions. The
Communists have sought to resolve their dilemma by combining
high quality in scientific and technical training and research
with intensive courses and training in Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist
ideology. If they can succeed in this combination, they may
have discovered a "formula" more dangerous to us than the
and the same human frailties. hydro en bomb. If the can uc e d t,~11s then why should
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they not believe they can conquer the ideas rather eousness of its cause. T01h ourses in indoctrination and the
than bombs? If they can succeed, then time would not neces-
sarily seem to be on our side in the period of competitive
coexistence that lies ahead.
In my judgment, they are succeeding to an alarming and even
terrifying degree. They are succeeding not only with the gradu-
ates of the tekhnikums and higher institutes; they are also suc-
ceeding with the average Soviet citizen. I have reported in the
section on "The Soviet Educational System" plenty of evidence
that the Communists have established the goal to give their
young people all the technical education they can absorb. In-
deed, they are coming closer to the achievement of this goal
than we are in the U.S. I neither saw nor heard evidence that
this education is producing resistance to the regime, or even
skepticism about it.
Harry Schwartz, famous and able Russian-speaking Soviet ex-
pert for the New York Times, interviewed 500 "men in the
street" in the Soviet Union in the weeks just preceding my own
visit. I ran into him in Helsinki as he was coming out and I
was going in. Very few of the men he interviewed suggested that
the form or structure of the Soviet government should be
radically changed and of these not one thought it could be.
(This is much as it is in the United States: as with us, the
Soviet citizen doesn't admit that he wants to change his form of
government, any more than we in the U.S. would suggest that
we want a Czar or a Soviet dictatorship or even a government
like that of France or of England. Many of the people Schwartz
interviewed grumbled about specific shortcomings-and this
would be true in any country, and most certainly was true in
my home town of Fairfield, Conn., particularly during the
Roosevelt administration-but Schwartz's Russians, like our
own Americans who grumble most, are not critical of the system
under which they live.)
Schwartz reported that many of his 500 challenged facets of
the Soviet propaganda which bore directly on problems with
which they had had personal experience-such as farmers, let
us say, objecting to the setup on the state farms-but few if
any ever challenged the propaganda in areas outside their own
experience-such, for example, as the Soviet propaganda casti-
gating the United States because it opposes Red China's entry
into the United Nations.
In my interviews I concentrated on government officials, and
I came out with roughly the same end-result as that of Harry
Schwartz. Some of those I met deplored America's "misunder-
standings." Often they seemed to go out of their way to "set,me
straight," as it were, on both the theory and practice of Com-
munism. Some were so absorbed by the manifest destiny of their
arguments that they seemed to expect me to accept them.
I know there may be many possible explanations for the vig-
our of the Marxist arguments given me by high officials. One is
fear. The top men with whom I talked had to assume that I
meant to report on the conversations. Besides, other Russians
were present at all my interviews within the U.S.S.R. except the
two with the prorectors of the universities of Kiev and Mos-
cow. Another explanation could be a very simple one-natural
pride of country in the presence of a foreigner. Still another-
and this one the experts call "careerism"-is that those with
whom I talked feel as they do because they have a personal
stake in the regime; they support it as naturally and easily as a
successful American businessman supports free enterprise. In-
deed, some Russian experts believe the degree of indoctrination
among the Russian people is in inverse ratio to the educational
and economic status. But there was, in my judgment, still an-
other factor required to explain my interviews. This is the
alarming factor. I think the officials really believe what they say.
They believe in the superiority of Communism and the right-
propaganda have worked. Either that, or the Russian officials are
consummate actors, and I do not believe a complex economy
like that of the U.S.S.R. can be run by actors.
As further confirming evidence of my conclusions, we have
the impressions of our diplomats who deal with the Russians at
the UN and elsewhere. I have been one of these diplomats, and
I believed then, as I do now, that my Russian counterparts be-
lieved the Marxist-Leninist-Stalinist line. We also have the con-
firming evidence of the interviews with refugees from the Soviet
Union-refugees who have jumped over the border to the West.
Among these refugees, one would expect criticism of the Soviet
system to reach its peak. Yet I am told that the interviews
reveal that a large proportion flee to the West as a conse-
quence of specific grievances, because of miscarriages of the
system, and not because of complaints against the system
itself. Few of the refugees seek a new system for Russia.
The very magnitude of the propaganda program in the
U.S.S.R. is bound to have its impact on its captive audience.
Even if he tries, the average Soviet citizen can't escape the offi-
cial message. It is blared at him from every quarter and at all
times. He may not wish to believe what he is told. He may even
think he is not heeding the official exhortations. Nevertheless,
he assimilates the message. His environment is saturated with
it and his mind absorbs more of it than he realizes. He cannot
discuss his doubts freely with his associates. He is inhibited
in thinking for himself. At long last, unconsciously or perhaps
despite himself, he identifies himself with the thought patterns
foisted on him.
There is evidence that Soviet officials themselves are aware
of this. One factory manager, reminded that the workers dis-
regard the slogans with which their plant is festooned, agreed
readily. "But," he remarked, "the words are present in their
minds, although they don't know it."
Many American visitors to the Soviet Union are struck by the
uniformity of the political questions asked them about the West.
Right now, many of the questions focus on America's Chinese
policy, which is being stressed in the Soviet propaganda. Such
uniformity is obviously a product of the indoctrination. Many
Western visitors are impressed, too, by the confidence many
Soviet citizens gratuitously express in the superiority of their
Soviet system. Of 13 United States Senators and Representa-
tives who visited the Soviet Union in the last half of 1955, not
one reported any evidence of collapse; most expressed surpr'..se
at the atmosphere of confidence and stability. No informed
observer-even the most antagonistic-reported any symptoms
of incipient revolt.
*
My over-all impression of the many Soviet leaders I met is
(1) that they are able and unusual men who would rise to the
top in any competitive society; (2) that they are surprisingly
ignorant in certain key areas and that this is dangerous; (3) that
they are highly indoctrinated and zealous men and that this too
is dangerous; and (4) that they are tough and aggressive men,
ready to make many sacrifices to achieve desired goals.
Last December Mr. Nutting, Minister of State in the British
Foreign Office, told the U.S. National Association of Manufac-
turers at its annual convention that the "summit" conference
last summer in Geneva had made one thing clear: that the lead-
ers of the most powerful nations had abandoned war because it
is suicidal. Unfortunately we of the West cannot be sure that
this is true to the extent that we can reduce our armament
budgets. Indeed, there are strong arguments fo:,- increasing them.
We Americans must continue to build up the so-called "positions
of strength" of the West. But we must also assume that Mr.
Nutting may be right; indeed we pray he is right. If he is, we
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SOVIET INTERNATIONALISM, 1955
Above: The Bulganin-Khrushchev team visited several foreign nations in an effort to solidify
diplomatic relations, especially in the East. The photo shows the Soviet premier and party
secretary with Prime Minister J. Nehru (right) of India
Below: Soviet sports teams invited the competition of western nations, both at home and
abroad. A U.S. chess team went to Moscow in July. Shown here is a soccer match between the
U.S.S.R. and France in Dynamo stadium, Moscow, in October
Bottom: The United States and the U.S.S.R. exchanged several delegations of business and
professional experts. In the photograph Soviet newspapermen are interviewing Keith Funston
(left), president of the New York Stock exchange, in October
Above: U.S. Ambassador Charles Bohlen and N. A. Bulganin
strolling through a park during the latter's picnic for foreign
diplomats and newspapermen in Moscow in August
Below: Engineers and workmen installing part of the Soviet
exhibit at the conference on the peaceful uses of atomic energy
held at Geneva, Switz., in 1955
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en on epor s
are in for a long power struggle with thle and dedicated We must demonstrate th heir prosperity and their peace lie
leaders of the Soviet Union. This is a struggle of a new type, to
be waged with new weapons. It is a struggle for which the
Western world is little prepared. It boils down to an effort by
two great opposing forces to win the faith and confidence of
the world's peoples.
A part of the pattern of this struggle, this emerging competi-
tive coexistence, seems clear. To meet it and to come out on
top, we of the U.S. must be prepared to extend help to the
"uncommitted" millions of the earth's population. Such help
must of course be keyed to the opportunities for economic and
for political development and in line with our available re-
sources. The concept of helpfulness, of good neighbourliness, of
sharing our relative abundance, is not new for us, nor is it
foreign to American traditions.
Of equal or perhaps even greater importance, we must drama-
tize, by example as well as precept, the vision of a society that
is at once free, just and strong. If an uneasy truce in the use of
force between nations is now in the offing, for the next decade
or the next century, the competitive struggle in the field of
ideas will remain. If we use such a truce constructively to im-
prove America's position in this competitive struggle, the truce
can deliver values to us which might make us impregnable.
We must seek with renewed vigour to show that our system
can be of help to human beings everywhere in the development
of their own freedoms and well-being. We must show that we
are willing and able to help them develop the conditions of life
in their own countries which will enable them to build up the
highest standards attainable with their labour and resources.
Apart from military policy and economic policy, I have often
pointed out that there must be a third major facet to our for-
eign policy. This is to give to foreign peoples, to the best of our
ability, the information they want and need, and the informa-
tion we think they should have about us and the free world, and
thus to encourage them and to help them in the realization of
their own legitimate aspirations.
The Khrushchev-Bulganin trip to Burma and India helped to
expose what I believe is "the wave of the future" in Russia's
export policy. Russia cannot match us in the export of automo-
biles, tractors or business machines. She proposes to beat us
with her ideas and her trained manpower. As Khrushchev left
Burma he announced that the U.S.S.R. would build and equip a
technological institute in Rangoon, as a gift to the Burmese peo-
ple from the Russian people-and staff it, of course, with Rus-
sian technicians. Here is an example of how "The Voice of the
Kremlin" can prove more dangerous than its armies.
We of the U.S. are now called on to compete with a Soviet
system of education in technology and many specialties that
milks the best. out of all available brains-that literally forces
its smartest boys and girls to get all the education they can ab-
sorb, and then channels them into the usages of the State. As
the supply of highly trained Russian technologists continues
to expand, focus will centre on competition with the free world
in Asia, Africa and Latin America. In these areas the peoples
have a tremendous range of practical problems to which trained
men can provide practical answers: problems of agriculture,
health, industrial production and communications. This is the
language they want to talk. We can talk it better than the
Russians, if we will so prepare ourselves. We must learn better
to share what we know about the operation of an economic
system-what we have learned which may in turn help them in
their hoped-for growth. We must seek to show them, in their
terms, that they are far more likely to realize their most
cherished ambitions by the methods of freedom, and in asso-
ciation with the free nations, than by totalitarian methods or
in totalitarian company.
with us and not with the Communists.
This is no mere propaganda duel. This involves more than
ideas, words and manpower. Intertwined into it is the all-im-
portant "propaganda of the deed"-our own actions at home
and abroad.
The Communists-not ourselves-developed the doctrine that
words can speak louder than deeds. Now their words indicate
that they plan to supplement their propaganda with a much
higher quota of deeds. This greatly enhances the power of their
competitive threat. One highly trained and indoctrinated Rus-
sian engineer, teaching in the Russian dominated Rangoon Insti-
tute, can carry a greater competitive threat to us than thousands
of Russian books and newspapers. Indeed, he can be even more
threatening than the Russian export of many thousands of tons
of steel.
The Russians now clearly are showing their long-term, conf,-
dent conviction that education "by order" will defeat education
"by will." This is one of the greatest challenges now facing the
American people. It is but little understood by us, in part be-
cause it has received but little discussion. From the way we
learn to face up to it, I like to hope, may come expanded oppor-
tunities for many of our young people. Today, perhaps fewer
than one-half of our youth with the intellectual capacity to
benefit from a college education are getting one. In the great
reserve of untrained manpower we have ou: own potential
technicians, engineers and leaders for the free world.
Our technical experts must also be trained in the liberal arts,
so that they will understand our great traditions of democracy
and freedom. Our own surplus of technologists, willing to serve
overseas if opportunity calls, must serve not only as builders of
dams and steel mills, but also as representatives of Western cul-
ture and of the American Dream. They may 'ae far more im-
portant to us than the billions of dollars worth of arms which
we ship abroad annually. They can prove decisive in the struggle
of the next quarter century.
I have used education as a prime example of how we in the
United States must improve our methods if we are to hold our
own in the new competition. Our reply to the Russians must be:
not only the right actions, but the right words-and enough
words to describe our actions-and enough of the right actions
at home as well as abroad. Foremost in the field of action at
home is the need for trained manpower for service overseas. It
is one way in which we must now prepare ourselves as we build
our defenses of the future, for the further intensification of the
duel for the minds of men.
We of the West believe that our freedom in the Western
world is incomparably superior to Communism. We must wel-
come "competitive coexistence" as a status far preferable to the
imminent danger of war. In 1955 the Soviet leaders of their
own will and for their own purposes created tiny openings in
the Iron Curtain which did not before exist. We must now seek
to develop such openings into opportunities for improved rela-
tionships and for more constructive forms of interchange. We
must seek to convert the competition of the future into free
and open competition. We must not fear it or allow it to give
us the jitters.
Above all, we must continue to strive to present, even to
indoctrinated Communists, the spectacle of a good society which
is a constant alternative to their own. By being our own best
selves, by acting rightly and helpfully in the world, and by
talking clearly and well, we shall pursue our best and most
lasting hope of winning and holding the free world.
WILLIAM BENTON
Southport, Connecticut
December 15, 1955
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