Execution by Hunger

by Miron Dolot

  The representative just sat there, blowing smoke rings, seemingly unperturbed by all these proceedings. Comrade Khizhniak looked at Comrade Zeitlin as if pleading for mercy. The latter nodded condescendingly. Khizhniak thereupon turned to the audience and mumbled his apology. He was sorry that he let his Communist vigilance relax. He assured all of us that he would never again repeat that decadent capitalist custom of addressing women first. Then he raised his paper and started reading his speech.

  To our complete amazement, Comrade Khizhniak actually repeated the entire speech of the representative, including his anthill theory, and the slogan “He who is not with us is against us!” Finally came the subject we were expecting: there were enemies of the people among us; they took over some Tens and Fives, and while in their official positions, they kept sabotaging the brilliant Party policy in our Hundred and in the entire village.

  At the end of his speech, Khizhniak took a paper from the table, glanced at it, and then shouted:

  “Leader of the First Ten, step forward!” While the poor wretch made his way to the table, he announced:

  “In the name of the Soviet People, I have the honor of arresting you for sabotaging the fulfillment of the collectivization and grain delivery quotas in your Ten.”

  In like manner, he arrested six more people, among them four leaders of Tens and two of Fives. The leader of our Five, who so eagerly wanted us to join the collective farm, was among them.

  As the last man was called, the door was flung open, and a GPU soldier appeared on the threshold with a rifle over his shoulder. As soon as Comrade Khizhniak finished reading from the list, the vykonavets stepped toward the arrested leaders and pointed at the door. They were still filing by the official table when Comrade Representative finished his cigarette and stood up. Comrade Zeitlin followed him, leaving the task of closing the meeting to Comrade Khizhniak, which the latter hurriedly did.

  As we came outside, two sleighs were disappearing into the darkness of the winter night. One was loaded with the arrested leaders; the other with the officials. The next morning we found out that similar arrests had taken place throughout the village. From five to seven individuals were arrested in each Hundred. Since there were eight Hundreds altogether, more than fifty people had been taken away from the village in a single night.

  We didn’t feel any sympathy for most of the arrested officials, but we didn’t feel jubilant either. Those people were purged as scapegoats. That much was clear. But did this mean the end of all purges? Who would be next on the list?

  What actually happened next was totally unforeseen. More than two weeks passed without a single meeting. As one meetingless day followed another, conflicting rumors started circulating. Some said that the Party and government had abandoned the policy of collectivization, and would leave the farmers alone. It was also rumored that Comrade Zeitlin had left for the capital city for new instructions. Others alleged that the officials wanted to leave us alone until new jails and concentration camps were prepared for those who still refused to join the collective farms.

  The most dedicated Communist activists and officials had disappeared from the village scene. Comrade Zeitlin, we also found out, had actually been summoned to the county center, but we did not know what had happened to Comrade Khizhniak, Khomenko, and others of their kind. No one had seen them in the village since the last meeting. To us it was becoming obvious that something important was soon to take place.

  It was said that Stalin had recently written and spoken in defense of farmers. In his article entitled “Dizziness From Success,” he attacked local Party functionaries and activists for their overzealousness in implementing collectivization. It was rumored that he had ordered a slowdown of collectivization, and that he would even permit farmers to leave collective farms if they chose to do so. Such a rumor was hard to believe, though, for just recently we had been told at our meetings that Stalin had decided to carry through a program of compulsory collectivization by the first of May, no matter what the cost in human and material sacrifices would be. We were also informed that Stalin had announced a policy of elimination of the kurkuls as a social class. In compliance with this, the government passed a law which made it legal to banish the kurkuls from their villages and send them into exile. Could it really be possible that he had changed his mind in such a short time?

  Many of our villagers did not believe these rumors, and expected the worst. However, the general hatred of collectivization and of the Party henchmen was so great that many indulged in wishful thinking and accepted these rumors as truth. All this uncorroborated information made the villagers fearful and angry.

  “Where are those cutthroats?” was a question one could often hear muttered, or exhortations like, “Let’s get those damned cutthroats!” “Let’s get our horses and cows back from that cursed collective farm!”

  No one would have dared to utter such words before; now they could be heard everywhere. The villagers were ready to fight and even kill if necessary. Indeed, a few days later, we saw two fires a distance away at the other end of the village. Later we learned that the headquarters of the Seventh Hundred had burned to the ground. Then the news spread that the villagers were storming the homes of the activists and village officials. We also heard that somebody had attempted to burn down the building of the village soviet; that windows had been smashed in the village club (the propaganda center); and that the telephone connection with the county center had been cut off. More than a kilometer of telephone wire was missing.

  Then one night, the first murder occurred. Somebody ambushed Comrade Judas and beat him to death. Curious, as teenagers are, I ran to the place where his body had been discovered. It was still there. He was lying in a shallow gutter at the village main road. His priestly beard was singed, and his face was badly burned. The chasuble he always used to wear was missing. On a piece of newspaper attached to his chest, scrawled in slanting capitals, were the words: “A CUR’S DEATH FOR A CUR!” Finally, at the end of March 1930, we received summons to a Hundred meeting. The meeting hall was decorated in the usual way. The red banner hung on the front wall. From the ceiling was suspended a red streamer with the slogan: “Death to the enemies of the people!” The rostrum beneath it and the official table were draped in red cloth.

  At the appointed time, a stranger appeared at the door with one of the members of the village soviet. The talking and the noise subsided. The village soviet member took a piece of paper from his breast pocket, walked up to the improvised speakers’ rostrum, and called for silence.

  “Before we proceed with the agenda,” he read slowly, “I want to introduce to you our Party representative, Comrade Rymarenko.”

  The audience showed its contempt. A man burst out laughing. Some women began to giggle. But the disruptions didn’t last long, and the audience soon quieted down.

  The representative was shocked by such a greeting and visibly irritated. He stared around as if seeking assistance. Then he made a gesture of resignation with his arms.

  “This is how you welcome your Party representative?” he asked in a low voice. He paused for a short time, looking down at his boots, as if trying to figure out what to do with the offenders. Then he pulled himself together and gave us a warning in a cold and brittle voice:

  “As a Party representative, I will not have the Communist Party held up to ridicule.” He stopped for a moment, holding the audience’s attention with his hypnotic stare. “Laughter and giggling,” he continued, “are among the well-known ways the enemies of the people disrupt constructive meetings of Soviet patriots….”

  These were familiar words, but we were not ready for them at that particular evening gathering. We had come to the meeting determined to stand up for our rights; to witness the defeat of the local Party functionaries; and to hear the proclamation of a new policy—anything but collectivization! Instead, we met a completely unknown individual—a stranger who bullied us even before we found out who he was. That was too much for us. Spontan
eously, pandemonium broke out: everybody began talking and shouting at the top of their voices; I also heard heavy stomping of feet somewhere behind me.

  But the representative seemed caught off guard only for a moment by this outburst. He just stood behind the table, playing nervously with his pencil. After staring at the table for a moment, he raised his head and his commanding voice cut through the hubbub.

  “I’ve had enough of you!” he bellowed. His nervous tension had disappeared, and his voice rang out with self-assurance: “I’m acting here on the direct orders of the county Party organization. Anyone who opposes this meeting is against the Party policy. Anyone who insults me insults the Party, for I’m the Party’s representative here, whether you like it or not!” His words were as sharp as a razor.

  We got the message. A breathless and oppressive quiet fell over the audience. It was a terrifying moment for all of us. Our hope for change was quashed.

  To end the embarrassing situation, the member of the village soviet hurriedly proceeded with the formal aspects of the meeting. He asked the audience to elect the chairman and secretary of the meeting, as was general practice. However, no one seemed to be anxious for this honor. All kept silent, as if conspiring to do so, and no one named any candidate to chair and conduct the meeting. This was an unforeseen and tense state of affairs.

  The representative stood in front of the audience and continued toying with his pencil. From time to time he would glance indignantly at the member of the village soviet as if reproaching him for his inability to control the people. Seeing that the situation was becoming more critical, he stepped forward. As before, he threw his hands up into the air (this gesture seemed to be his trademark), then he fixed his piercing eyes upon us and remarked casually in a low voice: “People who are against me always regret it sooner or later.” He paused, viewing the audience to see what impression his words were making, and then he continued “That applies to you, too, just in case you wish to disregard the fact that I am a representative of the Communist Party.” Then he added in the same low tone of voice, but emphasizing each word: “Anyone, I repeat, anyone who opposes the Party deserves to be eliminated!”

  His words had the desired effect. The stillness was awesome. No one laughed or spoke. Everyone was mute, unable and afraid to utter any protest.

  “These people of yours,” he then addressed his companion loudly so that everyone would be able to hear him, “these people are not able, or simply don’t want to take advantage of the democracy which is being given to them by the Communist Party.”

  He paused, expecting a response to his remark, but none came. All were sitting meekly like children in front of a dictatorial father, their attention riveted on him.

  Comrade Representative cleared his throat.

  “Comrade, proceed with the agenda without any formalities,” he ordered his companion who now had to conduct the meeting himself, without an elected chairman and secretary. This he did. After a moment of hesitation, he announced that Comrade Representative was to make a speech. The latter was already heading toward the rostrum.

  As mentioned previously, Comrade Representative was a stranger in the village. We did not know who he was or what his occupation was. But we could tell that he wasn’t one of us and that he wasn’t a laborer—he was a city dweller, like all other newcomers to our village. He was clean, well fed, and dressed in good taste, as far as I could judge. One could easily sense that he resented us, as if we were to blame that he found himself stuck in our village. As he approached the rostrum and raised his head to address us, I had a chance to better scrutinize his physical appearance, noticing that he had a huge nose, and a mouth with thin lips which he was constantly moving as if finishing a tasty meal.

  Judging from his previous bullying tactics, we didn’t expect to hear anything pleasant from Comrade Representative’s speech. But then, as he began, we just couldn’t believe our ears! Was this the same man who had spoken to us just a few minutes before? It was unbelievable! He had changed completely, like a chameleon. His tone had become smooth and warm; his manner modest; and he even smiled from time to time.

  At first he talked in very general terms so that sometimes it was difficult for us to understand him. The gist of what he said, as far as I could remember, was that men were fallible creatures and prone to make mistakes easily. Several times he repeated the axioms that to err is human, and that one learns as long as one lives. He asked us to show understanding for those who had erred and to be generous to those in need. This certainly sounded like a church sermon, and we were beginning to realize why. As he continued, we became more and more convinced with each word that the rumors about Stalin’s article were true. And, before long, he had told us everything.

  “A lot of things have been happening lately,” he recited. “Some of them good; some not so good.”

  Thereupon he launched into a lengthy recital of the good things that had happened. He repeated phrases which we knew by heart. Then, changing his tone to a lower key, he went on to expose what he termed were the “not so good.” Here, for the first time, he mentioned Stalin and his article, “Dizziness From Success.” In fact, without much ado, he announced that he was going to read it, and he did. He read it slowly, word for word, as if he were afraid to leave out a single sentence.

  We learned, as we listened to Stalin’s article, that collectivization was a great success; more than fifty percent of the farmers in the USSR were collectivized. What this meant was that the Five-Year Plan for Collectivization of Agriculture was doubled. But then, to our disbelief, we heard that this success was not success at all for it was achieved by means of distortion of the Party line: the principle of voluntary collectivization had been violated and coercive measures had been applied. As a result, some middle-class and local poor farmers fell into the ranks of kurkuls. Brutal and criminal actions were often employed against them by the Party officials. The farmers were victimized through robbery, expropriation of property, and arrest. A compulsory collectivization of farm dwellings and farm animals such as goats, sheep, hogs, and domestic fowl had been carried out. As a consequence of such extortions, collectivization had been discredited, and farmers were hastily withdrawing from collective farms.

  We listened with great attention, for our entire existence depended on those words. Not a single soul dared to move, or to utter a sound.

  The representative finished reading at last. Without glancing at us, he took his handkerchief and started wiping the perspiration from his forehead. He did it slowly, as if trying to win time, or to figure out what to do next. Still not looking at us, he announced that he was going to read a resolution of the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party. Later I found out that this was published in Pravda on March 15, 1930. We learned that the Party resolved to stop the compulsory methods of collectivization; to stop the collectivization of farmers’ dwellings and their domestic animals; and to make inquiries into the methods of expropriation of kurkuls.

  It was hard for us to believe what we had been hearing. Again, there was much confusion. Was it true what the newspaper and the resolution said? What if this whole thing were a trick; a provocation? This was a distinct possibility. Only yesterday, these Party functionaries had used all the brutal means they knew or could devise to herd us into the collective farms. The Central Committee, we were told, had given orders to collectivize all of us before the first of May, at any price! Some of our villagers had lost their lives refusing to yield to the pressure. Thousands of others were labeled kurkuls, evicted from their houses, and banished to concentration camps far away. The majority of us had joined the collective farms as the only way to save our lives.

  Now the Central Committee was telling us that it was a mistake; that the local authorities were to be blamed for these excesses because they acted overzealously and distorted the Party line. Where did the truth lie? Who was ultimately to be blamed for the loss of our freedom; for the thousands of deaths; for the destruction of our way of lif
e?

  CHAPTER 12

  AFTER FINISHING the reading of the resolution, Comrade Representative raised his head and slowly scanned the hall. Then he drank some water, and repeated the previous gesture with his handkerchief.

  The assembly was deathly still, all eyes watching him.

  “There are things which are difficult to explain,” he began haltingly, after looking at the paper he held in his hands. “What I am about to tell you is such a thing.”

  Then, stuttering, stammering, and often correcting himself, he told us that neither the Party as a whole, nor the Party representatives individually, could be held guilty for the forcible collectivization and for the terror that reigned in the villages throughout Ukraine. No, the Communist Party could not be blamed for these crimes, for it never advocated force or violence.

  This statement of his sounded like a sarcastic remark or a bad joke. However, we had learned to take such statements in stride.

  He continued: “The real culprits who distorted the Party line and brought so much suffering to your village were the Jews. Yes, it was the Jews who did it; not our dear Communist Party.”

  This was only the beginning. After some moments of hesitation, he went on explaining that the Jews, generation after generation, had been brought up in the belief that the Ukrainians were anti-Semites, and responsible for terrible and violent atrocities against them. This the Jews could not forgive nor forget. They know how to take revenge. It is a well-known fact, he continued, that the Jews, using the Communist Party as a springboard for their ambitions, have penetrated all branches of central and local governments, especially such branches as security and justice. Our local GPU, he pointed out, was entirely in their hands. They have been using these official positions for their own benefit. The Communist Party, announcing the policy of total collectivization and liquidation of kurkuls, had entrusted the local governments and special Party representatives such as Thousanders with almost unlimited power. The Jews took advantage of this power to take revenge against Ukrainians. They became overzealous in expropriating the grain from farmers, and causing starvation in Ukrainian villages. More than that, they pinned the labels “kurkul” and “enemy of the people” on the majority of the farmers without any justification and had them exiled to concentration camps or locked up in prisons.