When I was recently in St Petersburg,
I bought in one of the very nice bookstores that seem to dot the downtown Petersburg,
a book by Vladimir
Nevezhin entitled (in a somewhat free translation)
“Dining with Stalin” (or at “Stalin’s Dining Table”). The book is almost
400 pages long, and is an empirical and often detailed review of 47 large
banquets given by Stalin between 1935 and 1949 at the Kremlin (no banquets were
given during the War). It is based on original sources (e.g., invitations, list of guests), Stalin's and Molotov's archives, contemporary
newspaper reports, and memoirs published by numerous more or less well-known
attendees. (The copy I bought is published in 2019; I do not know if it is
different from the version from 2011.)
The book is easy to read, even if one’s
Russian (like mine) is far from impeccable. It is not well-written though. It
reads like a dissertation. It is part of a large research project on Russia’s
20th century history (volume 50 of that project) with often unnecessary
repetitions of many details. It is structured in a very formal way—which, given
that the banquets were also formally very similar, leads the author to say many
times the same or similar things. It has a tunnel-like focus on banquets alone.
While this is an advantage for those who are interested in the number of invitees
per banquet and the lay out of the tables, it is a clear disadvantage when banquets,
especially in the late 1930s at the peak of The Great Terror, are not considered
within their political and human context. Thus, only once we learn that guests
noticed Stalin’s unusually good mood which the author ascribes to the fact that
he must have felt that that evening’s banquet provided a respite from a long
day of Moscow Trials which were going on simultaneously. But we are not told a
word about whose trial went on that day, nor what happened. (Information is
easily available because the dates of both banquets and the trials are well-known.)
Despite these defects, the book is
full of interesting and even important details. Moreover, it allows one to
reflect on the people and the times. Banquets, hosted in various reception rooms
of the Kremlin, included between 500 and 2000 people and were sumptuous affairs,
especially if contrasted with generalized penury of meat, fresh fruit and vegetables
that often was the case in Moscow and
even more so in the provinces. All produce and drinks however were Soviet-made.
Compared to their equivalents organized by Hitler and his lieutenants and studied
by Fabrice
d’Almeda in The High Society in the Third Reich, Soviet banquets were more monotonous,
less extravagant, and more modest. They were also more business-like in not
(generally) including family members.
There were, of course, two groups of people at the banquets. The
first, the hosts, are fairly invariant: it is the Politburo and top government
officials, or more generally Stalin and the leadership (“stalinskaya komanda”).
The guests are various groups of people. Many of the banquets were done after
the May 1 or the Day of the October
Revolution (November 7) military parades and thus included mostly the Army and
the Navy. There were also banquets for the New Year’s Day and for the Days of the
Republics which were organized in Moscow in the 1930s showcasing artistic and
cultural heritage of various federal republics (from the Ukraine to Tajikistan).
There were several special banquets
for the pilots that in the 1930s achieved some notable successes for the Soviet
aerospace, including flying to the North Pole, saving sailors stuck in the icy northern
desert, and flying long-range non-stop flights to North America. These banquets
seemed to put Stalin in an exceptionally good mood because he treated pilots with
special consideration, allowing them liberties that very few were granted, including
having his toast twice interrupted by the same pilot, at two different
banquets. At times, there were unusual scenes that in a more bourgeois Western settings
would have been unimaginable—as when
Stalin invited the pilots to the leadership table and then began to hug and
kiss each of them, which in turn led the entire Politburo to do likewise. With a
dozen of pilots and more than a dozen of members of the leadership that implied
perhaps as many as 150 or even 200 hugs and kisses. An almost California-like
therapy of free hugs.
But there
were more macabre scenes as well since the leadership, even if the core was stable (Stalin, Molotov,
Kaganovich, Kalinin, Voroshilov, and to some extent Mikoyan, Andreev and
Zhdanov) included also the people who were, at various times, later purged and
executed. For example (p. 158), “From June 1937 to April 1938, almost to his
arrest, Kosior sat five times at that [leadership] table….In August 1938 Kosior’s
wife was shot. And then he was arrested himself. He was taken to the higher
level of punishment [probably torture]”. Overall, out of 21 people (excluding
Stalin) who sat at the leadership table in 1937 and 1938, eight were shot and
two killed themselves (p. 162). Thus almost half of the convives to that supreme table
were killed by the main host. Not a usual occurrence.
Nevezhin discusses at length the fate
of Yezhov, who practically out of nowhere became the head of NKVD and proceeded
to preside over the most bloody period of The Great Terror only to gradually
have his wings clipped (ironically, appointed to be the commissar of river
transport), be eased out of the positions of authority, and finally removed and
executed (to be replaced by Beria).
One can only
imagine what was the atmosphere around the main table in those days when Yezhov
and NKVD could arrest (and were encouraged to do so) practically anybody and
had two standing members of the Politburo executed (there was not enough time
to go through the process of their formal demotion). We of course do not know what
the conversations around the table were, but do have written evidence of
various ministers (commissars) bitterly complaining to Stalin that Yezhov’s
campaign of indiscriminate arrest and murder decimated their ministries and often
took away the best people. They thus in their turn collected “kompromat” on Yezhov
and his people in the same way that NKVD was collecting compromising documents on
their collaborators. (In addition, having your collaborators thrown into jail
was often a prelude to having yourself being subjected to interrogation and
arrest; thus trying to defend them was also a preemptive self-defense.)
Stalin appeared
there as an arbiter since formally investigations were conducted by NKVD, so he
could decide, God-like, to either forgive some of those investigated or to let
the process continue, ending in most cases in executions, or in suicides. The latter
is what Sergo Ordzonokidze, perhaps the least unlikeable of the Stalin’s komanda,
was eventually pushed to do, as his fellow Georgian in this cat and mouse game,
arrested first Sergo's closest collaborators (in the ministry of the heavy industry),
then his brother and his wife, leaving Ordzonokidze only two options: to wait
for his own arrest and probable torture, or to kill himself.
Molotov and Kalinin had also their wives arrested, and we know from Molotov’s
conversations with Felix Chuev (that episode however is not described in Nevezhin’s
book) that Molotov, while attending regularly meetings of the top leadership
and seeing Stalin frequently in private, never once raised the issue of his
wife. Molotov, as we know ex post, was probably right in doing so: her chances of
being freed were greater if he said nothing that if he had asked for her
release. This was the kind of perverse calculations that the court members had
to engage in.
The number
of extraordinary episodes detailed in the book is huge. We learn about several
State Jazz Orchestras that were often invited to perform at the New Year’s parties
although Stalin did not appreciate jazz. Since every ministry competed with
every other in having own musical orchestra, even NKVD under Beria created its
own, professionally quite well-regarded one. I suppose NKVD had the means to
make proposition attractive to the best musicians.
Nevezhin gives excerpts from Bukharin’s
extravagant panegyrics to Stalin, published in “Izvestiya” when he was its
editor: descriptions of the enthusiasm and happiness that enveloped all the guests
when Stalin and his komanda would show up. Nevezhin does not tell us if
Bukharin was really present at the banquets, or simply wrote what was expected
of him. If he was present, as seems to have been the case, he must have sat at journalists’
place or journalists’ table. And it must have been galling to him, and truly
impossible to describe, how a person who wrote “The Economic Theory of the
Leisure Class”, and was Stalin’s equal, and even his conspirator in intra-leadership
struggles must have felt writing such nauseating panegyrics.
We know
that personal lives of Stalin and his komanda were very barren. According to Stalin’s
daughter he had only one interest: politics. They too. Banquets were a way of
making such lives ever slightly less barren, but banquets too, remained just ersatz oases in the lives
full of office work, intrigue, fear and hate.