HAS RUSSIA CHANGED ?
By PAUL WINTERTON
THE reception accorded in many quarters to Stalin's latest pro- nouncement was a symptom of the political illness from which
the world is suffering. The sentence which made the biggest head- lines was, of course, the one in which Stalin said that " the danger of a new war does not exist at present." That so many people should have been profoundly relieved by such a statement—despite the careful qualification—merely shows how little the basic realities of the present situation are understood How could there be a war at present? In spite of the extreme talk about the desirability of a " preventive" war in a very restricted American circle, nobody believes for a moment that this is likely. Such a war would be morally indefensible and politically impossible. Even if we accepted the theory that Russia, left to discover in peace the secret of the atom bomb, would one day involve us all in a third world war in which civilisation would perish, there would still be no preventive war today.
Nor is there the least likelihood that Russia, by overstepping the bounds of what is tolerable, will at present provoke war with America and Britain. Stalin knows perfectly well that in a one-way atomic war his regime would suffer immediate and certain disaster. This should have been plain to us before he made it clear in words. The real danger was not that there would be war, but that Russia would get her way without war. That danger, such as it is, remains. M. Stalin's declaration has, in fact, changed the existing situation sin- gularly little. On all the fronts of Russian policy, indeed, the only marked sign of change at the moment comes from inside Russia. Difficult though it is to know the details of the picture, when corre- spondents are so hamstrung and censorship is so strict, the broad outline is clear enough. The country, stricken and drained by war, faces huge economic tasks. The normal business of reconstruction is made more onerous by the accepted necessity of maintaining arma- ments at a very high level. The people, exhausted by strain, overwork and malnutrition, are murmuring—just murmuring—at the prospect of three more back-breaking Five-Year Plans. Returning Soviet troops are talking toe much about what they have seen and heard. There is a dangerous tendency to indiscipline of thought and action.
Consequently, a new purge is launched—still on a minor scale by former standards, but steadily gathering momentum. We do not know the limits of it, and in this country have paid less than adequate attention to it, though English observers returning now from Russia speak of " the purge " quite naturally as something well-known and accepted. We do not know to what extent the generals have been involved. Is it true—or is it false—that Marshal of the Air Force Novikov is in jail? At least we know, from official Soviet reports, that the Party is being purged again. We know that fresh attempts are being made to uproot nationalism in the Ukraine ; we know that a. decimating wind is blowing over the personnel of the collective farms. We know that the least unorthodoxy in literature is being punished with an unparalleled rigour, and that the most creative artists in the Union are falling like ninepins before the Party flail. All this means one thing, that the regime is afraid, and is striking once more at all potential opposition.
Is this domestic atmosphere conducive to, or indeed compatible with, a détente with the foreigner? The answer must be "No." This is the time when the lump of Soviet opinion has to be conditioned to a new loyalty and unity, not leavened by co-operation with the West. News reaching me from Moscow suggests that there has
never been so thorough a boycott of the British as now ; never such swift reprisals against Russian citizens unwise enough to fraternise. Study of Russia's internal crisis certainly does not lead us to expect a new era of international understanding and friendship.
Has anything changed in the international sphere to breathe any breath of life into Stalin's words? Again, the answer must be "No." As far as we can see, Soviet intentions abroad have not altered, nor has the technique of pursuing them.' As I write, the Soviet radio is still blasting away in a score of languages and dialects against British and American imperialism. Its tone could hardly be more venomous and strident if we were in a state of war. There is not the vestige of an attempt to understand or explain or objectively analyse our actions ; it is the propaganda of abuse and hate. Russia's expansionist drive has not been called off. Pressure is still being maintained in Persia ; the heat is still turned on Turkey ; the plan to set the Greek border aflame is being pursued ; the Chinese Com- munists are being backed against Chiang Kai-shek in spite of a written undertaking to the contrary. If Soviet policy appears to have been less successful recently, it is not through any weakening in Moscow, but because Anglo-American firmness is bearing fruit on the frontiers and the ideological battle with Communism is no longer going by default.
In two matters in particular, ranging from the important to the vital, Stalin's words and deeds are utterly at variance. He denies that the policy of Communist Parties outside Russia is dictated from Moscow, yet in half a dozen capitals of Europe the seats of power are occupied by well-known and faithful Soviet henchmen who for years were trained in the Moscow Comintern school. Then there is the crucial and overriding subject of the atom bomb. There was never an odder collection of comments than Stalin's on this subject. Like the official Russian observer at Bikini, he thinks the atom bomb " not so big." But that is by the way. What are we to make of the confident assertion that " the application of the atom bomb will be forbidden." Who would infer from that that Russia had just rejected the Baruch plan for atom control, the first practical and realistic scheme for taming the monster? Is there a change of policy here? Is Russia on the point of making a stupendous volte face on the atomic issue, and accepting world control—effective world control—with all its implications? That indeed would revolu- tionise the international scene, and make us all start thinking again from the beginning.
Once more the answer unfortunately must be "No." One of the absolute fundamentals which cannot be ignored in any useful assess- ment of the Soviet role in world affairs is that the Kremlin can never agree to any effective machinery of international security. For if it is to work, such machinery must involve some loss of national sovereignty, some measure of international inspection. The present Russian regime will never, can never, subject itself to such inspection. To do so would be to inaugurate p new Revolution, to end a political era. A new Russia would have been born. A tyranny would have died.
The clash between Soviet Russia and the West, which is the curse and deadly danger and challenge of our age, has arisen from positive radical causes. The dogma that Communism must and will destroy capitalism and imperialism, and that nothing else will, is cardinal to Soviet teaching, and is unlikely to change this side of counter- revolution. The belief that there will be a third world war one day, if not " at present," is general in the Bolshevik Party. Finally, fear, the great breeder of wars, is endemic in the regime. The handful of men who rule Russia are afraid ; afraid of the people, scared of each other, afraid, perhaps, of their own consciences. They know, as so many foreigners are still reluctant to believe, that their regime is built on oppression. They hold their position by force, perhaps precariously, and they fear that the outside world will tilt the balance against them. That is why they want to keep Soviet Russia a closed community ; and that is the chief obstacle to co-operation.
In times as dangerous as these, it is the constant duty of everyone to look for the least sign that the situation is improving. To brush aside honest overtures, to cast doubt on sincere intentions, to ignore the slightest hint of a real change of heart would be criminal. But equally, to be hoodwinked by mere words would be folly.
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