It Cannot be Stormed

by Ernst von Salomon

  Ive blushed and said: ‘The diplomatist-landowner Hellwig from the district of Hanover wants to remain a tenant-farmer and lays stress on the argument that the farmer must demand profit for his labour under the capitalist as well as under any other system.’

  ‘He does and that is his demand,’ said Hellwig, bending forward. ‘I know, Iversen, that you are afraid you will have to put me down as a renegade, because up to now I have avoided speaking of the things which, in your opinion, must be of prime importance for every farmer—of the, shall we say, irrational values which alone give the farming community the right or the incentive to take its place as a vital unit with arbitrary power, as a class, or better still, as a profession; values whose obligation I will grant you as gladly as their bare material influence, and which the most inveterate materialist must take into account, if, at least, he does not wish to deny the whole irrational power of the proletarian consciousness of solidarity. Well, I avoided it, because, quite simply, these things do not come into the picture, or at least not in any decisive form, in considering the Russian example. If we compare merely the machines of production and the extent of trade, there is a damned deal of difference between Herr von Itzenplitz and me, and between me and small-holder Lohmann with his perpetually sick cow and his four dozen hens. But there is no difference in the bond we all acknowledge with the soil, whether it be three thousand or three hundred or only three acres in extent; no difference in the bond with our property, be it castle, farm, or cottage; no difference in our obligation to work, in our responsibility towards the whole country. I do not know and cannot know how these things are in Russia; but even if it does not seem as though collectivism, that is the radical abolition of private ownership, had come about particularly spontaneously, or had even originated with the peasants, certainly the so-called irrational values were not bound up with the things which with us are the individual essence, with blood and soil and heritage and the earth; or at least they had not the compelling force which demands death rather than renunciation. At any rate we heard nothing of the class-conscious opposition or professional pride that is always blazing up with us, on far less provocation, and only where religious standards still prevailed, among the Methodists, did we hear anything of the bitterness of the agrarian revolution. In this respect I think we could be depended on, if it were necessary. But it is not necessary. For with us there is not the incentive to that form of agrarian revolution; it would be a crime not only against the working-class, but against Soviet Germany itself, and against the holy spirit of socialism; it would be an attempt to build a power-station where there is no water, a saw-mill where there is no wood. For the process of industrialisation has long since been completed in Germany; the task of socialism is to take over the means of production and constitutionally to reorganise the industrial apparatus, but this simple fact reverses the whole scale of exactions. For now it is industry which has to aim at surplus of exports, to collect incredibly larger quantities of men, in all probability to restore even the forces liberated by the reorganised process of production, and, by guaranteeing the stability of the whole country, to guarantee also the stability of agriculture. The amount of land we have under cultivation cannot be increased to any extent worth mentioning, our labour methods cannot be further modernised to any appreciable degree, the productivity of the land cannot be noticeably enhanced. It is true there are still fallow lands to be opened up, large-scale holdings which can be subdivided; but there already you have the necessity of a new settlement, of a purely productive colony, coming into collision with the necessity for a more intensive economy based on collectivism. Collective work is only possible in agriculture, for it is only there that it can—possibly—be of economic utility, it is only there that it is possible to conceive of a limited number of machine- and tractor-stations for a largish number of collective undertakings. In Germany, however, pure agriculture only constitutes a quarter of the whole of agrarian production, and anyone who knows how closely the different kinds of production are united will have no illusions about the possibility of an agrarian revolution on the Russian pattern. What remains to be done is to produce one on a German pattern. This is dependent on the nature and result of the General Revolution. Therefore I am of the opinion that it is necessary for us farmers, on the one hand, to do battle with the existing System, not like the big landed proprietor whom I combat, not because he wants to live, but because he wants to live under the capitalist system and at the same time be the representative and director of the whole Farmers’ Movement; and on the other hand to cling to it, not like the Nazi farmers, expecting wonders from tub-thumping megalomaniacs, and grumbling at the hard times; not even like your farmers, Iversen, standing in front of their farms in despair but in proud isolation, blindly attacking everything that approaches them, however distantly; but to join the only movement which can make the salvation of the farmers possible, even though it may not know, in any individual case, how; and, in order that it may know as soon as possible, to work with it. That is the essential thing and nothing else. In Russia the proletariat has liberated the peasants; the farmers in Germany can only be liberated by the proletariat.’

  ‘He talks like a book,’ said Hinnerk, grinning, and Ive motioned to him to keep quiet; the waiter came to ask if the gentlemen would like another beer, but the gentlemen declined, and Ive thought: how am I going to persuade Hellwig that it is necessary to intercede for Claus Heim? For, not for one moment did he doubt that it was more important to be completely at variance with Hellwig, here and now, over the question at issue than it was to gain some uncertain success in his continuous and painful importunings on behalf of Claus Heim. Finally, he said that he might as well admit from the outset that any attempt on his part to give himself an air of high diplomacy could be nothing but a farce, for he was in a position which would not permit him to act from strength to strength. If he had succumbed to the psychological temptation produced by the nature of the discussion, even if he could succeed in hoodwinking his companion, this could be of no practical or positive importance. All he could do was to state that he himself believed in the necessity for a tactical association and he would undertake personally to see if arrangements could not be made for such an association.

  ‘As a sign of a preliminary agreement which will immediately establish the necessary basis of confidence,’ he said, ‘you must be prepared to take a direct part in our propaganda crusade for the release of Claus Heim and the other condemned farmers. The Communist Party of Germany ought to realise what advantage it would reap from this.’

  ‘This shall immediately be brought up for detailed discussion,’ said Hellwig.

  Ive took out his notebook and arranged a date for discussion. I must write to old Reimann at once, he thought, and said to Hellwig:

  ‘You probably realise how difficult it will be, in view of the sinister effect which the word Communism still exercises, to induce the farming community and the whole militant peasantry of the northern provinces to come round to the ideas that you represent.’ But on closer examination, it was actually only the word Communism which was a stumbling-block.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he continued, ‘if what you have been saying is in conformity with the ideas and attitude of your Party executive. I should be surprised if it were; for what the Party has up to now delivered in the way of slogans and manifestoes is not particularly calculated to arouse great respect for the world-shaking Communist intelligence. But that has no bearing on the question. I accept what you have been saying as an opinion which is possible within the meaning of Communism, and, if we choose to leave the field which you are considering, I am in a position to go very far in agreeing with you. No one can fail to regard Marxism at least as a very valuable tenet of belief, and so far the situation is favourable to Communism. The national aspect too is attractive, and I would even go a bit further than you and would assume that, even in the event of a Central Europe separated from the Western world, with a simultaneous tendency towards a wo
rld-revolutionary advance directed from Moscow, the sphere of German power and influence will of necessity detach itself from Russia, apart from the importance of German National claims, simply owing to the favourable position of the German industrial apparatus in regard to production technique. It is hardly conceivable that Communism, just because its task is to introduce a completely new machinery of production, is not also endeavouring to develop the apparatus to its full capacity and, therefore, to give it greater flexibility than is possible within the meshes of the capitalist system. At any rate it won’t do merely to replace Western constraints and limitations by Eastern; that would simply mean driving out the German national devil with the Russian national Beelzebub. I beg of you not to take offence at what I am saying. It is because, with you, I do believe the indestructible power of the nation to be a reality, an element whose influence reacts perpetually on every theory and every constructive idea, that I am able to go so far in agreement with you, and the Russian example is of actual value to me—as a confirmation. I know that you and I are branded as traitors by the jacks-in-office of all parties and factions, but I know also that, at the present moment at least, it is more important to ignore all superficial clashes, in whatever form they manifest themselves, and to lay the foundations of a deeper union rather than to line the streets with avenues of flags and fill the marketplaces with the tumult of propaganda.

  Ive continued: ‘If then, I recognise the nation as an element of intrinsic importance, as the foremost historical force, our task is clearly set: it is our duty to force it to its full and unimpaired effectiveness, to allow it to attain, as it were, the unity of form and content to which it aspires. Do not misunderstand me! I, too, see no reason why sociological readjustments should not be made within the nation. If the proletariat is prepared to remove the corpse of the bourgeoisie, and, in spite of the protests of credulous physicians, bribed into asserting that they can still feel its pulsebeats, to bury it as quickly as possible, in order to escape from its pestilential contagions; if it can command the power, the unlimited control, to bring the class war to an end and abolish class, and if, at the same time, it has plans prepared which are in accord with the requirements of the nation, such action could only arouse universal approbation, and hardly a single reason exists for not supposing that the direct representatives of production, who as a natural consequence are those who must be most directly interested in production, are the best informed as to the requirements and necessary readjustments and are most fitted to do what is right. But if it is the will of the proletariat to submerge the individualistic economic islands, which wind, water and weather have so long been corroding, then the farming community must be at liberty to put its own house in order. That this order cannot be an individualistic one under the control of Communism you must admit, and when you have done that, I will admit that it cannot and must not be individualistic under any future control. If we assume the most primitive form of co-operation between industry and agriculture, or, if you prefer, between workers and farmers, that of simple barter, much as though the farmers said, “Give us machines and potash and we will give you scrambled eggs and ham,” there must be some authority to establish the reciprocal values. But from what point of view? Surely from the point of view that will render the greatest good to the community as a whole. This authority, call itself what it may, will function like a department of state, perform a real public duty, only it will not guarantee complete freedom to the individual to strive for profit. This postulates, with the reorganisation of economics, a complete reorganisation of society, from which the farming community cannot be excluded. Through this twofold reorganisation the proletariat will be enabled to administer the means of production; but they will not, of course, be put into the hands of individuals of the proletariat, but eventually the machine will become the servant of those who serve it. I am rather hazy as to what the Communist remedies are, but I am prepared not to doubt their efficacy. But the farming community has from the very beginning had at its disposal the most important means of production, the soil, and is striving to make a livelihood from it. Under the auspices of the individualist method the farmer has become less and less able to do this, even when he has by partial renunciation of, but still in pursuance of, the method, sought to organise on a co-operative basis. In these circumstances, as a matter of fact, any alternative method would suit him, if only it would guarantee to him the essential result of his activity—production. Why should a collective organisation not be possible for agriculture? Why should it not be possible to erect corn mills in the East, and immense oxen farms in the Marsh, and an immense sheep farm on the heath, with managing directors, a technical staff, machine- and tractor-centres, potash stores and transport stations? Its advisability is questionable, but it is possible. Originally the farmer cultivated his plot and sold his products single-handed; later he cultivated his plot and sold his products cooperatively; why should he not in the future cultivate his land cooperatively and dispose of his products cooperatively? There is no reason why this should not be possible, but whether it is essential is a question. The pivot of the whole question is, and always will be, private ownership. And it does not need Communism to do away with it. Perhaps it is treachery to the revolution to say that private ownership no longer exists, because such a statement is calculated to confuse the issue. But that is the position for the farmer: he can no longer make a living out of his property, because the capitalist system has taxed him too heavily; he cannot sell his property, because there are no buyers. I do not know precisely what the position is in other economic spheres, but in any case there is food for thought in the remarkable phenomenon that, if private ownership is defended at all, it is only with an obviously bad conscience. There is probably a reason for this. And there is probably a reason for the fact that a farmer, if by chance he has the opportunity to sell his property and leave his farm, is regarded as contemptible, at least by his fellow-farmers. For private ownership is not only a conception of the economic law, it is also, I must say it, a conception of moral obligation. For, what else is the share of the individual proletarian in the means of production taken over by his class, that is by the whole collective proletariat, but a conception of moral obligation? For the farmer his farm is the embodiment of this idea, even when, under economic law, it no longer belongs to him. Originally, property in its most fully developed form, in the Middle Ages, probably possessed this corporate character, and this makes us think, doesn’t it, of the phenomenon of the monastic orders of the Catholic Church? It was capitalism, and I trace its foundation to the Renaissance, that first destroyed the beneficent spiritual bond. The conception of property as a moral obligation was first lost sight of, certainly not with all individuals at the same time nor in the same degree, but it was lost sight of in the capitalistic tendency, and it is completely naive to try to differentiate between good and bad capitalism; good capitalism is always a bit late in appearing. Today capitalism is on the way to destroying the conception of the economic law, and private ownership is now no more than a fiction. The fact that the farming community never consistently took part in this development and, where it did spasmodically adapt itself to it, was obviously acting out of character; the fact that today, when the System has juggled away its power of disposal over property, it does not dream, nor can it ever dream, of giving up the spiritual bond of obligation, leads to the conclusion that there must be other ways of escape than the one, which has become untenable, of magically turning individualist methods of production and life into a collective method, by a simple addition sum of properties and owners of property. Just as it can never be forgotten that the farming community as a whole, whether as class or as profession, was never, and never could be, in a position to be exploited, it must also not be forgotten that, by its very nature, it cannot directly accept and take over the future forms of existence of those who have hitherto been exploited. The character of the farming community has always remained the same, and no agrarian revolution can b
e directed towards a fundamental reorganisation of its own forms of production and laws of property, but only against the more or less determining efforts which would like to impose alien forms of production and laws of property on the farming community, that is against the capitalist system today, and tomorrow—against the Communist system. I would not go so far as to assert that the unambiguous and natural acknowledgment in Russia of the particular conditions of production ruling in the agrarian sector as well as in every other sector leads directly to the conclusion that they were opposing the act of reorganisation and could only be brought into a more or less bearable agreement with the plan by the somewhat aggressive approximation of two scientific points of view; but it does lead to the conclusion that Russian agrarian production has not developed, or has not developed sufficiently, in accordance with its particular conditions: for obviously the costs of reorganisation are worth while. But they are not worth while in Germany. That is an assertion, but it is sufficiently illuminating if we consider the state of agrarian development. The only possibility of increasing profits is perfected mechanisation. This is, of course, not conceivable without a certain amount of reorganisation of the owner-farmers, of which the lesser farmers and small-holders particularly would have to be the victims; it is conceivable, however, if the farming community is able to take its stand, more than it has done hitherto, as a class or profession, or at any rate as a responsible unity, with full sway not only externally but also in its own domain, and this particularly, after the removal of alien disturbing influences, not so much owing to what one might call horizontal general limitations of ownership, such as inorganic large-scale production, but owing to vertical limitations, such as capital funds. If, therefore, Communism recognises the actual state of affairs, that is, if it realises that no advantage is to be gained by forcing itself with bloodshed upon the farming community, which is fully awake to its position and its needs; and further, if it realises that there is no advantage to be gained in urging those who are left, at most twenty percent, to the highest possible degree of agricultural profit by the crazily expensive attempt to bring about a radical reorganisation of agrarian production in a socialistic sense—abstract or not; that is, if it is ready to allow the farming community, as a class or a profession, sufficient scope to manage its own affairs reasonably, under the control of the State, then Communism might actually appear to the farming community to be not only acceptable, but even desirable.