James Ryan, Susan Grant, eds. Revisioning Stalin and Stalinism: Complexities, Contradictions, and Controversies. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2020. 264 pp. $115.00 (cloth), ISBN 978-1-350-12294-9.
Reviewed by Pietro A. Shakarian (American University of Armenia, Yerevan)
Published on H-Russia (December, 2021)
Commissioned by Eva M. Stolberg (University of Duisburg-Essen, Germany)
How does one make sense of Stalin and Stalinism? This question has been at the heart of heated debates for decades, not only within Western scholarship of Soviet history, but more importantly, within contemporary historiographical debates in Russia and other post-Soviet countries (in particular, Georgia). As editors James Ryan and Susan Grant note in the introduction of this volume, quoting from no less a figure than Nikita Khrushchev, the legacy of Stalin is “complicated” (p. 3). Moreover, as historian David Hoffmann wrote, “for students of Soviet history, no problem looms larger than that of Stalinism” (quoted, p. 7).
The current volume seeks to further unpack this “Stalin enigma,” challenging the commonly held assumptions and narratives about the Soviet dictator and his regime through new archival research and revelations. Dedicated to historian Geoffrey Roberts, Revisioning Stalin and Stalinism is an important contribution, bringing together several insightful articles from different scholars, divided into four sections. The first part focuses on Stalin as a leader and statesman, the second part on Stalin’s cult of personality, the third part on the historiography of Stalin and the Cold War, and the fourth and final part on the legacy of Stalin in post-Soviet Russia.
The first part of this volume commences with an article by Christopher Read on writing the biography of Stalin. His text provides a useful, if not provocative, overview on the varying interpretations of Stalin in Western historiography, particularly highlighting the Cold War biases that have colored Western views of the dictator, as well as the disproportionate influence of Trotsky’s interpretation of Stalin in the West. Seeking to move beyond these well-established narratives in the search of a “historical Stalin” through critical scholarship is indeed admirable. However, in the process, as Read himself notes, scholars must be circumspect not to minimize the extent of the Stalinist regime’s cruelty. It is true that the official count of executions in 1937-38 stands at about seven hundred thousand, which, while not as astronomical as the estimates of earlier historians, is nevertheless still horrifying. Citing this figure exclusively can also be misleading, as it does not include those who died in the Gulag, the 1932–33 famine, dekulakization, or the forced deportations of national groups during the war. Moreover, it does not account for the physical or psychological trauma of those who survived these ordeals, nor does it account for the impact on the families of the repressed.
While Read’s opening text makes for provocative reading, the remaining two works in the first part of this volume are simply exceptional. In his study on Stalin’s purge of the Red Army, Peter Whitewood meticulously documents the process that led to the tragic, devastating, and horrific events of the late 1930s, exploring the motives of Stalin and the Soviet security forces as well as the historical lineage of the charges against Marshal Mikhail Tukhachevskii and others. It is a truly first-rate work of scholarship, and in this regard, it is rivaled by the next article—Daniel Kowalsky’s masterful historiographical overview on the literature of the Soviet role in the Spanish Civil War.
Kowalsky’s study provides a thorough overview of the latest sources on the subject, including the most cutting-edge research and archival revelations. It is a must-read for anyone interested in this subject. Moreover, although it may be going too far to call the actions of the Soviet Union (or any other state for that matter) “altruistic” (p. 60), it is nevertheless a good challenge to the classic Orwell arguments about the nature of Soviet involvement in the Spanish Civil War. It also offers an excellent refutation of Stephen Kotkin’s analysis of the Soviet role, that is, that Stalin was “drawn into the Spanish Civil War principally to hunt his ideological enemies.” Kowalsky assesses this view as being based on “discredited Cold War-era research and Franquista propaganda,” while ignoring recent “key scholarship,” including that of Angel Viñas and Josep Puigsech (p. 61).
Finally, Chris Bellamy unpacks Stalin’s role as a war leader, definitively putting to rest the Khrushchevian myth that Stalin went into “shock” in the first days of the war, immediately after the German forces launched Operation Barbarossa. As Bellamy writes, “evidence that became available in the 2000s shows that this was completely untrue” (p. 74). While it is factually correct that Stalin was in denial about the timing of Hitler’s attack on the USSR, and that he was momentarily humiliated, Bellamy clearly demonstrates that, far from being in a state of nervous breakdown, he mobilized quickly in response to the attack. The archival record demonstrates that, on the day of the attack itself (June 22), Stalin had twenty-nine meetings with various senior political and military officials. He also established a supreme military command—Stavka—on June 23 and a war cabinet on June 30. Clearly, this was not a man in a state of shock.
The second part of the book, comprised of two studies, focuses on the cult of personality of Stalin. The first, by Judith Devlin, vividly illustrates the Stalin personality cult within the context of the personality cults of other interwar leaders, notably Turkey’s Atatürk, Poland’s Marshal Piłsudski, Italy’s Mussolini, Germany’s Hindenburg and Hitler, and even Czechoslovakia’s Masaryak. By highlighting the Stalin cult within an interwar context of several “cults of personality,” Devlin demonstrates that it was in fact not the outcome of an “exceptional” Soviet political culture or Russian tradition. In fact, she expertly illustrates the ways in which personality cults were deployed by leaders of these new interwar European regimes and governments as a means of strengthening and centralizing their states. The Stalin cult may have risen to an unprecedented scale, especially by the time of his seventieth jubilee in 1949, but it developed as a rather unexceptional part of an emerging interwar European political trend. Balázs Apor highlights a similar development in his study on personality cults in Hungary, noting how historical precedents, the irrational desires of certain Hungarian leaders, and the international context all impacted the emergence of various “leader cults,” which in turn reflected aspects of modernity.
The third part of the book examines the historiography of Stalin and the Cold War. The first of these essays, “Revisioning Stalin’s Cold War” by Caroline Kennedy-Pipe, provides a compelling overview of the more recent historiography of the Cold War. She also reinforces her interpretation of the Soviet Union as a “fragile” or “vulnerable” superpower in the early days of the Cold War and that its leader, Stalin, rather than “instigating” the conflict, sought cooperation, not confrontation, with the West. She concludes that through this history, it may be possible to learn not only how the Cold War really began, but also how to navigate the West’s relations with Russia today. In the subsequent essay, Geoffrey Roberts, reflecting Ian Kershaw’s comparative model of the Stalinist and Nazi states, underscores the strength of the Soviet bureaucratic state structure in relation to its support for the leftist peace movement. Although Stalin was “pivotal” to the Soviet system, Roberts concludes that “his regime displayed a high degree of operational rationality” that served to both enable and constrain the peace movement (p. 139). Finally, Molly Pucci examines the intent and meaning of extracting false confessions from supposed “enemies” in Stalinist Czechoslovakia.
The fourth and concluding part of the book focuses on the legacy of Stalin in post-Soviet Russia. In his brilliant analysis, James Ryan tackles the issue of whether or not present-day Russia, under the presidency of Vladimir V. Putin, is in fact attempting to rehabilitate Stalin. Such a narrative forms part and parcel of the mainstream Western media discourse on contemporary Russia, alongside the obsessive, even cartoonish reduction of Russian politics to the personality of Putin alone. In fact, as the Ryan clearly states, it is a “gross oversimplification as well as a historical inaccuracy to suggest that ‘re-Stalinization’ is occurring in Russia, if that is understood in the literal sense of the worldview and behaviour of the state’s leaders” (pp. 159-160). Moreover, he concludes that “authoritarianism—even Russian authoritarianism—is not synonymous with Stalinism,” which had “far greater pretensions to social transformation and can be considered truly ‘totalitarian’” p. 162). He concludes that the view, held largely by Western observers, of a “re-Stalinization” of Russia originated from the Putin government’s emphasis on the memory of World War II as a centerpiece of its “patriotic national identity” (p. 160). Moreover, he highlights that Russia’s recent conflicts with the West, as well as popular frustration with the Putin government over corruption and the need for greater social welfare, have led to the rise of popular support for Stalin in some circles. Nevertheless, the polling data that Ryan cites reveals that “Russian citizens’ assessments of Stalin’s role in history reflect a manifold and divided society” (p. 159). Indeed, he underscores that while many applaud Stalin’s role as a wartime leader, many condemn with equal force his violent repressions.
Overall, this volume represents an impressive collection of insightful and occasionally provocative essays. It is therefore a valuable contribution to the scholarly literature on Stalin and Soviet history generally. At the same time, one comes away from this volume thinking that more could have been done to shed light on the impact of Stalin’s Georgian background on his life and policies. It is undoubtedly true that the newly opened Russian Archives have enabled scholars to gain new insights on Stalin. However, the Georgian Archives also present a rich collection of materials that allow us to develop a more complete portrait of the vozhd’, especially in his formative years. Ronald Grigor Suny has recently covered some of this ground with his impressively researched study of the young Stalin, drawing on materials in both Russia and Georgia. Future scholars may also be able to sharpen our perspective on Stalin even more with materials exclusively available in the Georgian language. After all, at the end of the day, Stalin was Ioseb Jughashvili, a Georgian from Gori, and through it all, Georgia was never far from his mind. Indeed, there is a reason why bookshop owners in Tbilisi prefer to keep books on Stalin in the Georgian, rather than Soviet, history sections of their stores!
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Citation:
Pietro A. Shakarian. Review of Ryan, James; Grant, Susan, eds., Revisioning Stalin and Stalinism: Complexities, Contradictions, and Controversies.
H-Russia, H-Net Reviews.
December, 2021.
URL: http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=57214
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