Perestroika and the future of socialism - part 2

Clearly, the social and economic crisis that preceded Gorbachev was not an accidental phenomenon. As constituted, the Soviet economic system could produce growth as long as there were ample resources that could be mobilized. But with the exhaustion of the resources, the "magic" of the command economy evaporated.

By the late 1970s and early 1980s it had become apparent to important segments of the ruling elite that the well-trodden path was leading to a precipice. The stagnation of national income was alarming enough. But taken together with the incredibly steep drop in capital productivity it looked as if the economy might be on the verge of going over the precipice and landing in an abyss.

Once this was understood--as it clearly was by Gorbachev and his circle of supporters and advisers when they came to power in 1985--the way out of the impasse seemed relatively straightforward. Much could be achieved by economizing on the use of energy and raw materials; the well-developed machine-building industry could be devoted to modernizing existing industry instead of continually expanding it; the accumulated knowledge and skill of the working class could be mobilized. And it was around a core of such measures as these, and in an atmosphere of excitement and optimism, that Gorbachev's ambitious program of perestroika (reconstruction) was launched.

The results, however, were far from what was expected. Not only was the crisis not overcome, it actually deepened. What needed to be done, in general if not in detail, was obvious: the trouble lay elsewhere in the very political and economic processes that produced the crisis in the first place: the repressive political system, the strategy of economic development, an over-centralized and cumbersome planning apparatus, above all a deeply entrenched bureaucracy jealously guarding its turf to protect jobs and privileges. In short, what was needed was not bright ideas but a radical overhaul of the entire political-economic structure.

To a certain extent, of course, glasnost, which accompanied perestroika from the beginning, was itself a move toward such an overhaul. Open discussion in areas previously hidden from the public view was not only allowed but encouraged. The dark side of the history of the Communist Party and Soviet society began to be revealed in a fresh wind of truth-seeking and truth-speaking. Exposes of current ills (corruption, alcoholism, prostitution, etc.) appeared in the media, along with harsh criticism of high officials and leading institutions. Censorship of literature, drama, and film was in large measure lifted. All of this freeing of speech was a necessary prelude to the reconstruction of the political system: an ongoing process aimed at a separation of the government from the Communist Party, revitalization of the state by empowerment of the soviets, and elections of delegates to these bodies at all levels from slates of candidates selected independently of the nomenklatura.

In an important sense this thrust toward democracy is consistent with the ideals that inspired the Bolshevik Revolution and very much in keeping with the socialist vision of Marx and Engels. Their views of the Paris Commune are especially relevant in this respect. In his introduction to the 1891 German edition of Marx's The Civil War in France, Engels hailed the Commune as a model of the dictatorship of the proletariat in action. Crucially important was the need for safeguards against corruption of state officials and the danger of their becoming masters instead of servants of the people: