All 6 entries tagged History

Capitalism and Communism: A Few Things I Changed My Mind About

I sat over lunch under an apple tree with some old comrades. We reminisced about the U.K. referendum on EEC membership back in 1975. At the time, we all campaigned against. I mentioned that since then I had changed my mind. Why? Because, I offered, the EU had done more to spread and consolidate democracy in central and eastern Europe than any other factor or force. I'm not sure, but I think someone close to my right ear muttered "Shame!" That, and a few other remarks, made me realize that some of those I was sitting with might not have changed their minds about much, despite the passage of a third of a century.

Some things I have kept. I was brought up in a high-minded atmosphere of nineteenth-century rationalism. Now, I would not recommend this for everyone. It was not a lot of fun. I did not really learn how to party, for example. However, I did absorb a lot about the sanctity of truth and the beauty of logic. As for politics my mother, a lifelong Liberal, imbued me with the notion that:

Whoever could make two ears of corn or two blades of grass to grow upon a spot of ground where one grew before would deserve better of mankind and do more essential service to his country than the whole race of politicians put together (from Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift).

That was the "rationalism" side of my upbringing. The "nineteenth century" bit was the optimism that came with it. I had instilled in me a belief in the possibility of progress -- that we, the human race, could learn from experience and reasoning to make things better for everyone.

These things I still believe.

But some I don't. One thing I used to believe was that the government could always fix things -- at least, if not the government, then some other government.

I lost faith in this idea gradually, a bit at a time. To begin with, I believed it wholeheartedly -- as did we all (this was those of us that were studying economics in Cambridge, England, in the late 1960s). The only problem would be if the government was mistaken in fact or logic. If so, it was our job to put it right! We all saw government service as the highest calling of a professional economist. I nearly went that way, but I got bitten by the economic history bug.

A little later, my view of politics had darkened. I no longer trusted the government -- our government, the capitalist government, that was. I became a revolutionary socialist, and then a communist. (By this point I had forgotten about the two blades of grass.) It was still the government's job to fix things, but it had to be a government of the people, by the people, for the people. This outlook wasn't anarchistic, but it was libertarian. I wanted a world, foreshadowed by Marx in the Communist Manifesto of 1848, where,

In place of the old bourgeois society, with its classes and class antagonisms, we shall have an association, in which the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all.

What kind of government would that be? Well, although a communist, I did know it wasn't the Soviet government of the day. I had lived and studied in Moscow; I knew it was a police state and didn't much like it, although there were other things I was ready to admire. But the voices from the Soviet bloc that I listened to were the Czechoslovak and Polish reformers (some of them now exiled to Britain) and, in the Soviet Union, democratic Marxist dissenters like Roy Medvedev. This was the now forgotten era of Eurocommunism which, germinated by the 1960s, blossomed briefly during the 1970s. Italian and Spanish communists put forward the daring view that Soviet socialism had something missing from its makeup. The Russian Revolution of 1917, although not a mistake, had driven a wedge between democracy and socialism. In Britain some communists, but by no means all, took this up. It was our job to put democracy and socialism back together. (We failed.)

We debated the mistakes and crimes of Stalinism. This debate turned out to have some unexpected twists. In the Great Terror of 1937, Stalin had murdered a million people. No one really wanted to defend this. Those who wanted to support the Soviet Union on principle generally divided into two. One lot went into denial: some real enemies had been justly executed, and the rest was a fabrication. Others accepted the truth, but stuck to the line of Khrushchev in 1956: it was the fault of Stalin and a few leaders, who had died or been got rid of, and everything else was basically healthy, so that made it okay.

More disturbing, if anything, was the problem of the far more numerous victims that Stalin didn't intend, but killed anyway: for example, the five to eight million deaths resulting from the famine of the early 1930s. There was no plan to kill them, but they died because Stalin's drive to industrialize the country took too much food from the villages, leaving not enough to keep the rural population alive. Their bones were buried in the foundations of socialist construction. This was harder for some to face up to than premeditated mass murder. If a death was a crime you could convict the murderer, but killing by mistake placed the whole Soviet system on trial.

We wanted to heal the rift between socialism and democracy. We were failing, but we didn't know it yet. For the mid-1980s saw the coming to power in the Soviet Union of a leader who walked and talked like us: Mikhail Gorbachev. Like us, Gorbachev wanted to put socialism back together with democracy. The Soviet Union could become a free, democratic society! We were re-inspired, briefly.

It wasn't all philosophy and infighting. While disagreeing on history and the Bolshevik Revolution, we lived in our own country in the present. Putting differences aside, we engaged in many campaigns. We fought for jobs and full employment, opposed racism, supported strikers, marched for peace, campaigned for votes, and worked to enliven and empower our local communities.

Some other beliefs that I still held at that time mirrored my faith in political action to put things right. One was that fairness matters more than efficiency. In the late 1980s, shortly before his final illness, I became friends with Peter Wiles. We soon understood each other pretty well. Given our different starting points -- in many ways he was a classic liberal -- he was exceptionally kind to me. But even when he was no longer quite sure who I was or why I was there, he would turn to me suddenly and say: Efficiency! You've never paid enough attention to efficiency! Efficiency is very important!" And he was right. Because, the more efficiency you have, the more blades of grass and ears of corn you have, and the easier it is to be fair. At the time, this was something that I was still thinking about.

Then the Soviet experiment came to an abrupt end, a complete and total failure. Sometime early in 1991, I decided that the era ushered in by the Bolshevik Revolution was over. It was time to move on. I didn't know where, but I knew I couldn't stay where I was. I turned in my party card, and that was it.

A few years later, I was still stuck with nineteenth century rationalism, but I had changed allegiance from Marx and Engels to Smith, Ricardo, and Mill. In economics and politics I had become a liberal. I was happy -- as most liberal economists are -- with progressive redistribution through taxes and benefits, and tax-financed health and education services. I still had an optimistic belief in progress. But I no longer thought the government could drive progress, or fix everything, and I didn't even want it to do these things any more.

Political economy and the study of bureaucracy helped me to this view. Politicians and government officials, I realized, are not to be judged by their high-mindedness. Whether capitalist or socialist, under democracy or a dictator, political leaders and civil servants are self-interested. If the incentives align their private interests with those of society as a whole, well and good. Mostly, however, this is not the case. I ceased to believe that good government needed only correct facts and correct logic. I began to grasp the possibility that governments could fail systematically, perhaps more often than markets could fail.

From there it was a short step to the idea that a good way to organize society is to place the government under strict constitutional constraints, and let the citizens govern themselves as much as possible.

There were plenty of things I struggled with then, and still do today.

One is climate change. When climate change is (in the words of the Stern report) "the greatest market failure the world has ever seen," it is clear that without some kind of political action there is no solution. (You can actually read me struggling with this in my first and only article about climate change, written way back in 1991. I had figured out the political action problem, although in a crude and overdramatic way, but not yet the coordination problem that goes with it.)

Another is military intervention. I still thought military force had a purpose in the modern world and, to be perfectly honest, I still do. That doesn't mean I know exactly what that purpose is. Here's an example. I was in favour of the U.S. led invasion of Afghanistan in 2001, and less surely in favour of the invasion of Iraq two years later. What do I think now? There is a lot of evidence now to suggest I was wrong. I still think Saddam Hussain brought defeat on himself by pretending to have weapons that he wanted to have, and had tried to develop, but did not in fact possess. Also, I think the full consequences will not be known for many years, and could well differ greatly from what seems obvious now. Still, that is to anticipate hindsight that we don't yet have.

More to the point is this. I never forgot a conversation about Iraq with an American friend and fellow economic historian. I visited his university in November 2004 when Bush had just won his second term. Depressed and angry, Tim exploded at me: "You ex-coms are all the same!" (I wondered how many he knew.) "When it comes to military intervention you still think the state can fix everything." I think he had me just right. I was skewered.

A third thing I struggle with is who gets my vote. I favour policies that are economically conservative, socially liberal, tolerant and generous in international affairs, interventionist when forced but always reluctant and mindful of the perils of selective intervention. The only party that would be all these things is a party that is not interested in power. No party is all of these things in any country that I can think of. But if we don't vote, I believe, they will take our liberties anyway.

The last thing I want to mention is what it has meant to me to have spent the last eighteen years working in and with the Soviet state and party archives. First, a wonderful privilege: what luck, that I was granted such an opportunity. I have used it to work on a wide range of topics -- statistics, economic planning, growth and development, wartime mobilization, defence planning and procurement, decision making, information, secrecy, lying, cheating, whistleblowing, and repression. There is so much to study! This was a state of 200 million people and one sixth of the world's land surface that recorded everything of note in millions upon millions of documents over 70 years.

And second, a strange voyage of discovery, hard to define in a few words -- but I'll try. In general, no great surprises. The documents show a vast, centralized dictatorship with a mailed fist and a decaying metabolism. But we knew that, already. The fact is that academics and writers older and better than me, the dissidents and scholars of Peter Wiles's generation, had already worked out the main dimensions and characteristics of the Soviet system, its politics and economics. This was a state that just had too much power. 

In specifics, though, my sense of shock, accompanied by a full span of emotions from grief to laughter, is continually renewed by the opening of each new file. Two examples: First, how did I get interested in secrecy? I was working on Soviet military procurement. Every year the government gave the Red Army a cash budget to buy new equipment. Soldiers toured the factories to work out what weapons were available and at what price. Industry was supposed to sell weapons to the military at cost price. So, the officers' first question tended to be: "How much does that cost?" And the standard answer? "We can't tell you. It's a military secret." It sounds ridiculous! But it worked! Year after year and decade after decade, it worked. That told me there was something interesting and remarkable in the operation of Soviet secrecy that needed to be understood.

Second example: Earlier in the summer I took a first look at the files of the Lithuania KGB, newly acquired from Vilnius by the Hoover Institution archive. Every year the KGB second administration, responsible for counter-intelligence, made a plan of work and a report of work. They enumerated the thousands of "objects" that, in the course of the year, they would aim to monitor, intercept, warn off, compromise, recruit, blackmail, or arrest, and the hundreds of informers they would deploy to achieve the plan. This is what the KGB did in Lithuania year after year, right up to the end of the 1980s. The term "object" is no mistake; they coldly manipulated "the lives of others" with casually understated brutality. Suddenly at the end of the 1980s the endgame arrived, and a hundred thousand people were on the streets, demonstrating for independence -- half of them, party members! They were taken completely by surprise! They'd been watching the wrong people! (Or had they? Again, there's a story in this.)

And finally, an inner struggle between the calls of science and morality. As a social scientist, my first duty must be to understanding. Understanding comes from new knowledge, and there is so much new knowledge in those dusty files and blurred microfilms! Judgement should come later. But there is also a feeling that spreads involuntarily from my gut, a voice that I can't shut out: Reagan was right. This was an evil empire.

Do I regret my past associations or activities? No. I believed or did many things that seem silly or misguided with hindsight, but I did not betray anyone or do anything really wrong. Many good people belonged to the communist party who inspired me both as idealists and as activitists. From them I learned about how to translate ideals into action, and how to work with people of differing views, build cooperation, and get things done in the face of criticism and opposition; it is hard to imagine that I could have learned these things in any other way. One thing I learned was always to start from the world as it is, not as you would like it to be. This was one reason I did not write off the Soviet Union at the time. Which bring us to mistakes. Well, they are supposed to help you learn. I made many, many mistakes and this just gave me plenty of scope to learn from them. Of course, I probably did not learn all that I should and I probably made many more mistakes than I ever recognized.

No doubt there is some degree of self-serving fiction in my story. The way I tell it, I remained true to the values I got from my mother: truth and reason before everything else. The facts changed, so I changed my reasoning. The world changed, and I moved on. But there could be other versions.

My children might say: In his youth, Dad was a free thinker. He got older and more established, put on weight, and settled for a comfortable life in an armchair.

The old comrades I lunched with might not go along with that. After all, they got older too, but they did not settle for comfort or accommodate to new times. They remained true to the cause. Among them, some might tell a story of treachery and betrayal, in which I began with my heart in the right place, but eventually sold out the cause in return for academic status and reputation. Others might wonder if I wasn't always a middle-class revisionist, just playing with politics, an enemy within from the start, never a true comrade. Somewhere in this tangled tale lies the golden thread of truth -- but where? You choose.

Mark Harrison : 19 Aug 2009 08:23 |  Tags: History Politics |  Comments (8) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

How Can We Get to See What's Coming Round the Corner?

Writing about web page http://www.wehc2009.org/programme.asp?find=world+in+2030

At a meeting I attended earlier this week, some of the world's best economic historians discussed how the world might look in 2030, based on their knowledge of the long-run trends at work over the last couple of centuries (or, in the case of China, the last couple of millennia). People talked about trends, models, and forecasts, using a lot of numbers and graphs. The picture was generally optimistic, in a moderate sort of way.

One speaker worried about the small number of big things that, although they happen only rarely, might completely derail our visions of the future: things like deadly pandemics, Great Depressions, and global wars. Anther speaker worried about the rise of nationalism, how far it might go, and whether it could then have unpredictable effects.

This made me think about people that haven't had the benefits of a training in economics -- most historians, for example, but of course not only them. It occurred to me that such people often think about the future in a completely diffferent way, a way that is much more intuitive than economists' trends and models. They think about the future by telling stories taken from the past. (This is not a completely original thought. I began to think about it after reading "The Political Economy of Hatred," by Ed Glaeser, in 2005 in The Quarterly Journal of Economics 120:1, and more recently Animal Spirits: How Human Psychology Drives the Economy, and Why It Matters for Global Capitalism, by George A. Akerlof and Robert J. Shiller, published by Princeton University Press in 2008).

How do people use stories from the past to think about the future? First, they think about the conditions obtaining in the world today. Then, they scan the past for stories that began with initial conditions somewhat like these. They ask: "What happened next?" Then, they let the story unfold. From the story, they work out what might be about to happen in our own future. In this way, they try to see what's coming round the corner but still hidden from direct view.

Here are two examples.

• Today, we are in the early stages of a Great Recession that was preceded by a financial crisis. That's somewhat like the world economy in around 1930 or 1931. What happened in the Great Depression was a global contraction followed by the breakup of world markets, the rise of nationalism, the attempt of Germany, Italy, and Japan to carve out new empires, and World War II. Is that what might come next?
• Russia today is a great power that began the transition from totalitarianism to democracy -- and got stuck half way. The Russian political elite feels encircled by an old enemy, NATO, in the West, and a new rival, China, rising rapidly in the East. With a shrinking population, Moscow may well feel that time is running out. That's somewhat like Germany in around 1912. Germany was stalled half way from Prussian absolutism to parliamentary democracy. Germany was a rising power, but with the sense of being encircled by old enemies, Britain and France, in the West, and new rivals, Russia and Japan, that were rising even faster in the East. What happened next in that case was that the German political elite took an immense gamble. They launched World War I, not because they were confident of winning, but because they feared that time was running out. They feared the consequences of doing nothing -- the certain continuation (as they saw it) of peaceful decline -- more than the combined risks of victory and defeat if they started a military adventure. Is that what might come next?

Story-telling like this has some remarkable features. First, it is indeed a way of thinking about the possibility of rare and unpredictable events. As such it is immensely powerful. Its intuitive appeal is much greater than models, charts, and numbers. It speaks the language of nations and politics: shared experiences, common destinies, collective rights and wrongs. It is easily voiced by leaders and heard by followers untrained in statistical thinking about trends and standard errors. As a result, while politicians may turn to economists for technical advice, they get historians to help write their speeches -- Arthur Schlesinger Jr (John F. Kennedy), Richard Pipes (Ronald Reagan), and Norman Stone (Margaret Thatcher).

Second, story-telling is deliberately selective. When we scan history for stories, we look by definition for sequences of events that have a beginning, a middle, and an end. In the middle, something happens that is out of the ordinary, dramatic, and unexpected. Invariably, we rule out all those past historical circumstances that also somewhat resembled the present day, but after which there were no surprises and nothing much happened.

Third, story-telling typically sounds an alarm. In history, dramatic events are rarely good news. The good news in history has generally been made up of the slow, steady progress of emancipation, literacy, and prosperity. Such good news is easily illustrated by statistics and trends, but does not make good stories. It is the bad news of crises and wars that makes good stories.

Fourth, exactly because story-telling is alarmist, an entirely legitimate purpose of stories may sometimes be to sound the alarm about the risks we face and so avert their realization. Putting it in its best light, we sound the alarm of another Great Depression so that governments will take the actions necessary to save us from having to relive the experience. We warn of the danger of a new war so that governments will change their policies to a peaceful track. One result is that it is generally very difficult if not impossible to test the efficacy of story tellng as a form of prediction.

Fifth, some stories can be self-fulfilling. There is a particular kind of collective story, for example, that communal identity politicians like to tell (Glaeser wrote about this in "The Political Economy of Hatred"). These are stories of past hate crimes allegedly committed by some other ethnic or religious group against their own group: Black against White, Germans against Jews, Jews against Palestinians, Protestants against Catholics, Sunni against Shia -- and, in all cases, vice versa. Such stories can be extrapolated into predictions of future hate crimes yet to be committed, and then into justifications for hateful and violent action to preempt the future crimes.

Related to all this is the problem that we control the initial conditions of the stories we select only very imperfectly. The world economy today is only somewhat like the world economy of 1930; in many ways it is quite different -- and the differences may well turn out to be crucial. In the same way, Russia today is only somewhat like Germany in 1912. And so on. Thus, the stories we tell have the capacity to be deeply misleading about the true underlying risks in the world today.

If the risk of war or depression illustrated in the story does not materialize, this could be because telling the story stimulated effective action to avert the risk, or because the risk, although real, happened not to materialize this time (i.e. we were lucky), or because the risk was nonexistent in the first place; we may have no idea which is the case. If the risk of community violence does materialize, we don't know whether the underlying story merely predicted it -- or actually precipitated it.

In summary, such stories are powerful. They have great potential to illuminate the risks we face, but this potential is also dangerous; it is a power to accentuate risks, as well as to illuminate them.

I draw two simple conclusions from this. One is that economists and economic historians interested in addressing the wider public should think carefully about the stories that can put our messages across. The other is that we should pay close attention to the stories that others narrate in public about what has happened in economic history: we should look out for these stories, identify them, test them carefully against the evidence that we have, and then report the results to the public ourselves.

Mark Harrison : 06 Aug 2009 08:09 |  Tags: Economics History Politics |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

Comrade Frumkin Was Right

This is about a forgotten prophet of the twentieth century. In 1951, the case of party member M. S. Frumkin came for investigation to the party control commission in Moscow. Frumkin was accused of adopting "a Trotskyist standpoint on matters of building socialism." 

The scandal arose in the context of a lecture that Frumkin gave on April 11, 1951, to teachers of the USSR transport ministry college for commanders of its armed security forces. The unpromising subject of Frumkin's lecture was "The conditions of material life of society." In the course of the lecture Frumkin remarked:

Transitional forms of production relations can exist not only during the transition from capitalism to socialism but also, conversely, during the transition from socialism to capitalism.

This opaque remark caused uproar. As the investigator commented afterwards, Frumkin had contradicted Stalin's "entirely clear" teaching on the transition from capitalism to socialism; according to Stalin, transitional production relations arose only in the context of movement from a lower form of society to a higher form -- not the other way around. The listeners protested. What was this "transition from socialism to capitalism"? One commented:

Comrade Frumkin's statement contradicts the laws of historical development of society ... it would follow from this formulation that the socialist system should be replaced by the capitalist [system].

Another asked:

Why was so much blood spilt in the struggle for socialism, if a return to capitalism is inevitable?

Instead of recognizing his mistake, however, Frumkin went on to defend it to the listeners, giving three historical examples of transition from socialism to capitalism:

• The fall of the Paris Commune (1871)
• The crushing of the Hungarian Soviet Republic (1919)
• And the defection of Yugoslavia to the camp of imperialism (1948)

As I read the report (in the Hoover Institution's Archives of the Soviet Communist Party and State collection, RGANI, fond 6, opis 6, file 1643, folios 26 to 28), my interest mounted. These seemed like good examples to me. How would the listeners respond? But they objected: "These examples are incorrect!" Frumkin took a step back: the issue had "not been worked through and was for discussion."

Over the next few weeks Frumkin maintained this position. During this time he was first criticized at a party committee meeting in the college, and then reprimanded by the township party committee "for the political error that he committed and for reluctance to correct it at the proper time."

When the matter came finally to the party control commission, Frumkin accepted his mistake, putting it down to a "slip of the tongue." He claimed that he had confused it with the possibility of a violent capitalist restoration from outside, of the sort that Stalin himself had admitted in a letter "On the Final Victory of Socialism in the USSR," published in Pravda on February 14, 1938. Since Frumkin now accepted his mistake, and had been penalized within the party, the party control reporter proposed no further action.

Who was Frumkin? We are given only a few details. We know his initials but not his given name or patronymic. He was born in Russia in 1903; his family background was working-class. He joined the communist party in 1925. In 1935 he graduated from the Lenin Military-Political Academy in Leningrad. From there he was sent to teach in military schools in Briansk, then Gor'kii.

In 1943 Frumkin was taken into the Red Army where he served until 1946 as deputy chief of the political department of the 153 rifle division. On demobilization he was appointed deputy chief of administration of educational establishments for the RSFSR ministry of trade, and then section chief of the ministry of transport college where the incident took place. By the time of the investigation he had been moved on -- or down -- to be a political instructor in the security establishment of the Moscow-Riazan railway.

In short, Frumkin was a functionary of his time; there were millions like him in everything but that instinct that led him, for a few weeks in 1951, to defend the idea that history could go in reverse. Frumkin would have turned 88 in 1991, so he is unlikely to have lived to see his prophesy come true.

Mark Harrison : 31 May 2009 23:37 |  Tags: History Russia Stalin |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

At the Centre of the Gulag Archipelago, a Quiet Lagoon …

What sights and sensations does the word "lagoon" evoke? The poet Sheri Hoff thinks of:

A quiet lagoon...
Floating in the salty, blue water,
the sun shining on my face.

That's what it makes me think of, too.

If you like playing with words, there can be other associations. For Germans and Russians the first syllable of this beautiful word might evoke less pleasurable images. If the British invented the concentration camp (at the time of the Boer war), the Germans abbreviated the term to konzentrationslager and the Russians imported the word lager from German for their own forced labour camps. "Lag" was the Soviet-era abbreviation of anything to do with the institutions of forced labour. GULAG for example, was the chief administration of labour camps of the USSR interior ministry in Moscow; Siblag, Sevlag, among many others, were respectively the Siberian and Northern camp complexes.

But how could you get from the frostbitten outposts of the Soviet empire, encircled by barbed wire, to a lagoon? While some could only dream, others played with words.

On July 5, 1946, Lt. Col. Luferov, chief of the secretariat of GULAG (the chief administration of labour camps) of the USSR MVD (interior ministry) in Moscow, signed off a curt memorandum to his party comrade Major Silant'ev, chief of the control and inspection department (the document is in the Soviet archives collection of the Hoover Institution: GARF, f. R-9414, op. 1 dop., d. 144A, folio 91):

I inform you that the word "Laguna" is assigned to GULAG as its customary telegraphic address.

I request you to inform all departments and administrations of the USSR interior ministry chief administration of labour camps and also the peripheral units: ITL MVD [the labour camps themselves], UITLK MVD (the administration of labour camps and colonies), OITK MVD [the department of labour colonies], and PFL MVD [the verification and filtration camps for returning Soviet prisoners of war and labourers previously held in Germany].

This story shows that even the most heartless of Soviet bureaucrats could hear the poetry of word-play in his soul.

Mark Harrison : 14 May 2009 21:47 |  Tags: Forced-Labour History Russia |  Comments (3) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

Truth in Humour; No Humour in Truth

In The Gulag Archipelago, Alexander Solzhenitsyn recounted the Stalin-era joke of the labour camp guard who asked a newly arrived convict about the length of his sentence.

The man says 25 years, but proclaims he is innocent!

The guard retorts that he must have done something because the innocent are only given 10 years.

There can be a grain of truth in humour; that's what makes it funny. In this case, it's a matter of historical record that millions of people suffered unjust imprisonment or execution in Stalin's time. It isn't funny when the victim says it; the joke is when it is said by the perpetrator.

This next bit isn't a joke.

On January 31, 1938, the Politburo of the party Central Committee in Moscow considered the problem of foreign refugees. (The document is in the Soviet archives collection of the Hoover Institution: RGANI, f. 89, op. 73, d. 11, folio 53). The minutes of the meeting record:

It has been established that foreign intelligence services are casting their mass espionage and sabotage network of agents into the USSR, mainly under the guise of refugees and those apparently seeking a political safe haven, better economic conditions in consequence of unemployment, deserters from military units and border security, and returning migrants and emigrants.

The Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) resolves:

1. To propose to the USSR NKVD [interior ministry in charge of state security] to arrest immediately and subject to meticulous interrogation all refugees detained at the border, regardless of their motives for entering the territory of the USSR.
2. All refugees for whom it is established directly or indirectly that they entered the territory of the USSR with espionage, sabotage, or other anti-Soviet intentions -- to hand them over to the court of the Military Tribunal, with mandatory application of [death by] shooting. 
3. Cases of all refugees for whom it is established that they entered the territory of the USSR without ill intentions -- to hand them over for consideration by the USSR NKVD Special Asssembly, with application of the penalty of 10 years' imprisonment ... [emphasis added]

So: Guilty, death. Innocent, ten years. It didn't make me laugh.

Mark Harrison : 02 May 2009 01:32 |  Tags: Forced-Labour History Russia Stalin |  Comments (4) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

Gaza: A Lesson From History

Writing about web page http://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm200809/cmhansrd/cm090115/debtext/90115-0013.htm

On January 15, Sir Gerald Kaufman, MP, told the House of Commons:

My parents came to Britain as refugees from Poland. Most of their families were subsequently murdered by the Nazis in the holocaust. My grandmother was ill in bed when the Nazis came to her home town of Staszow. A German soldier shot her dead in her bed.

My grandmother did not die to provide cover for Israeli soldiers murdering Palestinian grandmothers in Gaza. The current Israeli Government ruthlessly and cynically exploit the continuing guilt among gentiles over the slaughter of Jews in the holocaust as justification for their murder of Palestinians. The implication is that Jewish lives are precious, but the lives of Palestinians do not count.

On Sky News a few days ago, the spokeswoman for the Israeli army, Major Leibovich, was asked about the Israeli killing of, at that time, 800 Palestinians—the total is now 1,000. She replied instantly that "500 of them were militants.”

That was the reply of a Nazi. I suppose that the Jews fighting for their lives in the Warsaw ghetto could have been dismissed as militants.

Let's think about this.

The recent Israeli incursion into Gaza lasted 23 days (December 27, 2008, to January 11, 2009). Ten Israeli soldiers were reported killed in action.

The population of the Gaza Strip is currently in excess of 1.4 million. Estimates of the Palestinian death toll during the Israeli assault range from 1,330 (Hamas) to 500-600 (an anonymous Palestinian hospital doctor, reported by the Italian journalist Lorenzo Cremonesi). We can't verify either figure. For the sake of argument we'll take the higher figure; it suggests a death rate of around 1 per thousand of the population "at risk," about half of them unarmed civilians. (The lower figure would suggest less than 0.5 deaths per thousand with few unarmed civilian deaths among them.)

The Warsaw Ghetto uprising of 1943 lasted 120 days (January 18 to May 16, 1943). Sixteen German soldiers were reported killed in action.

The initial population of the Warsaw Ghetto is not known. Between 1939 and 1942, the German occupation concentrated between 300 and 400 thousand Jews in Warsaw. In addition to an unknown number of deaths from hunger and disease, between 250 and 300 thousand were deported to Treblinka and murdered over the summer of 1942. Jewish deaths during the uprising itself amounted to 13,000; after the insurgents' surrender, the 43,000 survivors were deported for extermination. The final death rate amongst the population "at risk" approached 100 percent.

On these figures, the fate of the Warsaw Ghetto in 1943 does not look like a close parallel for that of the Gaza Strip today.

That's enough about outcomes. What about intentions?

In Warsaw 55 years ago, the intentions of the two sides were clear. The Germans intended to exterminate the Jews regardless of age, sex, or combatant status; the ghetto uprising simply forced them to accelerate the process. The intention of the insurgents, who had a good idea of what had happened to those deported to Treblinka in 1942, was to resist otherwise certain death.

In Gaza this year, the intentions of each side are open to more than one interpretation. The Israelis said they intended to avoid civilian casualties as far as possible, but "as far as possible" is a difficult phrase. Certainly, civilians were killed, certainly in dozens, possibly in hundreds. Setting moral feeling aside, most of us (including me) have no practical idea of what words like "possible" or "necessary" mean in that context. But we can turn the question round. If the Israelis had intended to cause civilian casualties, was it within their military-technical capacity to do so on the scale of the Warsaw Ghetto? Without doubt, yes. If an army fighting in a crowded city with the military technology of the 1940s could kill tens of thousands of civilians in a few weeks, then surely it can be done again today; but that is not what happened, as we see.

As for the intentions of the Hamas militants, they were defending ... hmm. Not sure. The right to fire rockets freely across the border into Jewish settlements, I think.

To make sure you understand me, let me add: Crime deserves trial and punishment. If Israeli troops behaved badly in Gaza, what happened in Warsaw more than half a century ago does not justify it. (And exactly the same applies to those who organize indiscriminate suicide or rocket attacks against civilians.) Things that were done to us in the past do not remove anyone's moral responsibility for what we do in the present or plan for the future.

In fact, in solving conflict, history is generally not much use. It is part of the problem more often than of the solution. As Ed Glaeser has written, the memory of past crimes, real or imagined, fuels the fear of crimes yet to be committed, and so hatred, and encourages people to feel justified in committing more crimes themselves! Usually, nothing positive can be achieved unless all sides can learn to forget a whole lot of the past. 

But history that is manipulated, or distorted, or misremembered, is worse than anything, because it adds the petrol of hatred to the fire of conflict. So, for as long as we have to have it, let's try to get the history right.

Mark Harrison : 23 Jan 2009 14:57 |  Tags: History Israel Palestine Using-Data |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem