著者
平松 潤奈
出版者
北海道大学スラブ研究センター
雑誌
スラヴ研究 (ISSN:05626579)
巻号頁・発行日
vol.51, pp.321-353, 2004

From the period of perestroika, there has been an argument in the criticism of Soviet culture that the Stalinist culture suppressed the representation of the body, which is irreducible to the canonical language. In this body/language opposition, the body is seen as deviation, excess or something antagonistic to the social and language order. But it is not appropriate to think that the body can be represented outside of and autonomous from language because, taking this assumption and regarding the body as something that needs release from the yoke of the language order, we only repeat the same scheme of such sayings that the body must be suppressed by language. The body should, therefore, be seen as that formed in the practice of language. In this light, dissident writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's text appears to tell how the body is formed in the language activity and treated by the language order. His text does not take the body/language opposition for granted, but probes the mechanism which this opposition stands on. Solzhenitsyn's novel, The First Circle, describes the process of the formation of the body far more clearly and elaborately than in any other of his writings. The central motif of the novel is voice-hearing, which inevitably raises the question of the relation of language and body. That is because, on one hand, voice carries linguistic messages, but on the other, it is a part of the human body. Voice separates from the body and goes through various media (recorder, telephone, radio etc.), but in this process it does not seem to lose the trace of the body in the form of its materiality, such as frequency and amplitude. This duality of voice plays a decisive role in The First Circle. In the beginning of the story, Innokentii Volodin, a young diplomat, calls the embassy of the United States in Moscow and reveals that a Soviet agent will receive information about the manufacturing of an atomic bomb. His conversation is tapped and recorded, and the Ministry of State Security (MGB) commits the tape to a special prison-institute commonly called a sharashka, where confined scientists and engineers are working for the benefit of the government. Gleb Nerzhin, a mathematician, and Lev Rubin, a linguist, are ordered to analyze the tape and identify the criminal among five suspects. The novel depicts in detail the process of voice analysis, which is to be examined concretely in this paper. Previous studies on Solzhenitsyn's novels have not read these technology motifs in their literal meaning. If attention is paid to descriptions of technology, they tend to concentrate on metaphorical and ideological interpretations of them (the telephone network stands for the bureaucratic system of the socialist state, for instance) and ignore the material and practical aspect of them. Solzhenitsyn himself lived in a sharashka for three years, and the model of Nerzhin is the author. He compared the sharashka to "the first circle" (borrowed from Dante's The Divine Comedy), which is the most privileged place among the concentration camps. There, prisoners were exempted from hard labor and even enjoyed freedom of speech, unthinkable in the outside society. Their work was directly connected with the benefit of the state, and significant contribution sometimes freed them. Many technical experts imprisoned in the sharashka, however, belonged to the generations before the Revolution, and a part of them were anti-Stalinist sympathizers. What sustained this inclination was their assurance of the autonomy of "techno-elite," but in fact their life depended on the technological innovation which they devised for the regime. In other words, the channels of their voices are strictly controlled, but at the same time their technology regulates the conditions on how voices are transmitted. Located in this ambiguous position of sharashka, the prisoners in The First Circle are confronted with difficult ethical questions to decide one after another. The depiction of the analysis of Volodin's voice is based on a true story Solzhenitsyn experienced in the sharashka and that Rubin's model Lev Kopelev wrote a detailed memoir about. By the time they take up Volodin's case, the prisoners have been engaged in the development of a scrambler phone that can protect Stalin's telephone conversation from being tapped by encoding and decoding human voices. The decoded voice must be identifiable with the speaker as well as being clearly heard. Looking back to the duality of voice mentioned above, clarity of voice (what one is saying) is related to its linguistic aspect, while identification (who is speaking) to its materiality or body. The latter is considered more complicated than the former, and what is necessary for the analysis of Volodin's voice is the latter (who is the criminal). To develop this special apparatus, Nerzhin (Solzhenitsyn) and Rubin (Kopelev) used a device called "visible speech," the prototype of today's sound spectrograph. It gives voiceprints which records frequency and energy of voices according to time. Rubin thinks their patterns differ from person to person, so he can identify the criminal by comparing the voiceprints of given tapes. But, in fact, voiceprint does not reveal the owner of the voice by itself. It only transcribes the materiality (body) of voice, which is unique and unrepeatable every time. To identify the owner, one must find some distinct features of his voice, always unchangeable. Rubin (Kopelev) has inmates and staff in the sharashka read the same words and syllables in various ways, but, as he confessed, Kopelev could not discover such features. What is important here is that the identity of voice is sought by articulating its materiality (voiceprints) linguistically (by particular words and syllables). In The First Circle, through voice analysis, Rubin focuses his attention on two suspects, Volodin and Shchevronok, and he tells his boss that Shchevronok is more suspicious. But that is a mistake. His boss reports to a MGB official about two suspects, requiring more data, but the official rejects the request and announces that he will arrest both. Here the strict examination of voice properties turns to absurdity. We might wonder, with all of the complicated investigation, which Rubin is forced to work on, why the author lets Rubin make a mistake and for the authorities to arrest an innocent man. Before answering this question, we should reexamine the special nature of Volodin's case -- a crime on the telephone line. As it was already seen, voice has two aspects; it is regarded as a trace of the body (and this trace also has materiality) and a carrier of language simultaneously. This duality of voice makes Volodin's case very unique. On one hand, his voice transmits linguistic message, which is recognized as a crime in the social order. On the other hand, his voice is the criminal act itself. It means that the language order and the bodily act are connected directly in his voice. Usually, bodily acts, occurring in particular time and space, are unrepeatable. But Volodin's recorded voice makes it repeatable. Through the process of voice analysis, the repeatable body (materiality) of voice is articulated to the language order and identified with its owner. In this sense, the identifiable body of the criminal is formed in the practice of the language order. We may think that Rubin's mistake shows the imperfection of this articulation system: he could not tell the difference between two men's voices. This imperfection, however, is necessary to the order. Stalin in the novel suspects that 5 to 8 percent of the people in the state are not content with the present regime although they vote for it in elections. Stalin asserts that the MGB can exist only because there are always hidden enemies in the society. His suspicion keeps on creating newly imagined enemies, who do not appear in elections, that is, who are not articulated to the language order (election has the simplest linguistic form -- yes or no). This supposed percentage of hidden enemies can be seen here as corresponding to the percentage Rubin mistakes. For Rubin's identification process is accompanied with the possibility of misidentification, and this misidentification (the imperfection of articulation) produces the hidden body of enemies behind the language order. Thus, the imperfection of the articulation technology makes the language order produce suppressible body. The voice analysis depicted in the novel shows the process of how the deviant body is produced, identified and oppressed in the regulation of social and linguistic order. Along with Rubin's voice analysis, the novel presents a different kind of voice-hearing. Nerzhin is said to have "strange hearing," with which he has been able to hear suppressed people moaning and shrieking since his childhood. This voice reaches him without going through any material medium -- newspaper, radio, or telephone. He does not trust them at all. Volodin's voice is carried by the telephone line and analyzed by the device of visible speech, by which, as a result, he is arrested. Adding to such media technologies, one more medium participates in voice analysis -- the body of the analyzer (Rubin); the clarity of decoded voice is examined by his ears, one of which is deaf, a fact which Rubin hides from people around him. Furthermore, when Rubin (Kopelev) has to infer from a voiceprint what the voice is saying in front of a MGB official, Nerzhin (Solzhenitsyn) secretly tries to help Rubin by showing the answer by gesture. All these mediums are described as things which deceive people. Among the mediums in the novel, written letters in documents are particularly deceptive. Recorded letters are easily placed under the control of a third party so they do not hold the truth. The cause of the deceptiveness is the materiality of media and body. Nerzhin's hearing is "strange" and fantastic because it omits such media technology and body, which seems indispensable for normal communication, and still can catch voices. Denying all the mediums, Nerzhin tries to approach the origin of suppressed people's voice. In the sharashka he likes to go and listen to Spiridon, a plain peasant, because Spiridon is a blind and illiterate man that is cut from the deceptive media networks (Rubin calls this Nerzhin's "going to the people" in fun). Nerzhin cannot learn any principle of life from Spiridon's tales, but just listens to his voice through his "soul" while sitting side by side; Nerzhin's hearing is independent of reason and media. Nerzhin goes further this way "to the people" and takes a much more radical step by refusing to take part in the work on the cryptography for the scrambler phone, as a result of which he is sent to a regular concentration camp. To leave the sharashka, which serves the regime with media technology, means that he will join the truly suppressed people. At the last moment in the sharashka, Nerzhin sees the van that will transport him and fellow prisoners elsewhere through Moscow city. He sees the word "Meat" painted on the body of the van for disguise. This detail has rich implication. The word "Meat" does not only hide the body of prisoners in the car, but exposes by accident the violence of the language order which treats the human body as "meat." In this scene, violence is not generated in the situation where language has already screened out the body as recent criticism insists, but when language designates the body in a certain way. Throwing his own body from the language order to outside of it, Nerzhin reveals such violence because in this moment he can observe both aspects of Soviet society. This is the point where the relation between language and body is determined. After that, the viewpoint of the narrative suddenly switches to a foreign newspaper reporter who sees the van on the street and takes the word "Meat" as it is. Nerzhin's body vanishes to outside of language but leaves the strange hearing to readers, who now know the violence of language. This consequence of Solzhenitsyn's novel has been criticized in two ways; first, it distinguishes the world of suppressed ordinary people as something sacred. Secondly, it stands in an omnipotent position which commands view of both sides of Soviet society. These arguments are apparently true, but, as we have seen in this paper, The First Circle narrates how two aspects of society (suppressing language order and suppressed body) are being separated. In this separation consists violence, which is depicted in the last scene of the novel (the scene about the "Meat" van). In fact, Nerzhin's vanishing body acts as the medium that informs readers of the two aspects of Soviet society, though he will not admit that the human body functions as a medium. It can be said that Solzhenitsyn himself, when he writes The Gulag Archipelago, for example, works as such a medium, articulating the "reality" of concentration camps to language text.
著者
中村 唯史
出版者
北海道大学スラブ研究センター
雑誌
スラヴ研究 (ISSN:05626579)
巻号頁・発行日
no.49, pp.147-177, 2002

1. Ю. М. Лотман, который руководил московско-тартуской школой с 1960-х годов, критически относился к новейшим направлениям, появившимся после структурализма в западноевропейских странах и США: введению психоаналитического метода в семиотику, кибернетике и т. п. Такая позиция Лотмана основана на его убеждении: «явления, сделавшись языком, безнадежно теряют связь с непосредственной внесемиотической реальностью». Сознавая отсутствие необходимой связи «языка» с «реальностью», Лотман все-таки выбрал остаться в закрытой «структуре», состоящей из всяких «представлений», «смыслов» или «слов». Если нет никакой необходимости в связи «структуры» с «внешним (миром как таковым)», то необходимо установить субъект, который устроит структуру. В статьях 1980-х годов Лотман часто рассуждал о таком «описывающем субъекте», но не успел четко изобразить его образ. Наша статья - попытка определения данного субъекта посредством чтения статьи Лотмана «Между вещью и пустотой», в которой обсуждается поэтика Иосифа Бродского, прежде всего имея в виду фазу поэта (субъекта) между «структурой» и ее «внешним». 2. В данной статье Лотман проводит различие между начальной стадией акмеизмаи его поздней стадией, и сопоставляя с первой, определяет поэтику Бродского «антиакмеистичной». Такая его позиция расходится с общепризнанным мнением тартуской школы об акмеизме, особенно о Мандельштаме, и противопоставляется даже самоопределению Бродского, который считал себя наследником акмеизма. 3. По мнению Лотмана, поэтика Бродского совпадает с акмеизмом в том, что оба считают «вещь» объединением «формы» и «материи». Но начинаясь с этой общей исходной концепции, их направления оказываются совершенно противоположными. Акмеисты считали «вещью» слово как объединение «формы (логоса)» с «материей». Следовательно, субъект этой школы (на ее начальной стадии) со словом как вещью в руке стоит напротив пустоты. Он находится внутри «структуры» и противостоит «внешнему». А Бродский, наоборот, придает большое значение «форме», достигнутой вычитанием «материи» из «вещи». У него «вещью» является не «слово», а материальный мир. В его стихотворениях часто наблюдается процесс «опустошения», которое не что иное, как вычитание «материи» из материального мира. В результате этого в пространстве дискурса остается только «форма» «дыра» «граница» и т. п. - одним словом, «пустота». Субъект стихотворений Бродского, в которых «пустота» господствует над «вещью», стоит вне или выше «структуры», и принадлежит сфере «пустоты» в таком смысле, что невозможно ее определить словами. 4. В данной статье Лотман, отделяя начальную стадию акмеизма от поздней, очевидно учитывает общепризнанное понимание другими филологами тартуской школы относительно акмеизма, по которому творчество акмеистов, особенно Мандельштама, явилось последовательным и целостным. Лотман, сознательно используя это понимание, изображает позднюю стадию акмеизма следующим образом: и у этой стадии все еще сохраняется такое представление о вещи, что она является словом как объединением «формы» и «материи». Отличие поздней стадии от начальной состоит в том, что у первой раз произошедшие слова, т. е., «смыслы» связываются исключительно друг с другом, и образовывают самостоятельное и целостное «семантическое пространство». При этом субъект замыкает себя в контексте «мировой литературы», а после зарождения «смысла» ее «внешнее», т. е., «реальность» выводится из поля зрения этого субъекта. Путем отличия начальной стадии акмеизма от его поздней стадии Лотман подчеркивает, что в мировоззрении первой было ощущение существования «внешнего», которое, по Гумилеву, не что иное, как «непознаваемое». 5. Цель Лотмана, который, в общем, редко обращался к современным себе литераторам, в данной статье - не историческое определение Бродского или Мандельштама, а выделение типов дискурса по важному для него поводу: фазе «субъекта» между «структурой» и «внешним». В статье он предлагает следующие три типа: начальную стадию акмеизма, Бродского, и позднюю стадию акмеизма (понимание тартуской школы относительно акмеизма). Очевидно, что среди них Лотман находит в первом типе эквивалент своей позиции: сознавая условность «структуры», внутри которой находится субъект, он все-таки противостоит «внешнему», то есть, «реальности». При этом вопрос в том, что внутри «структуры», т. е., посредством слов нельзя не представить себе «реальность» как «пустоту» или «нуль». В этом мнении Лотман совпадает с психоаналитическим постструктурализмом западноевропейских стран, который представляет себе «реальность» как «отсутствие» или «щель». Здесь предполагаются два варианта дальнейшей перспективы: попытка дифференциального описания этой «пустоты», и отказ от такого описания вообще. Выбрал второй вариант Лотман, который опасался превращения самого описания в неопределенное, т. е., в «пустоту» первого варианта. Он сознательно остался в закрытой «структуре», не забывая о наличии «внешнего», которое существует вне или выше «структуры» и постоянно угрожает ей. «Описывающий субъект» Лотмана, намеренно замыкающий себя в «структуре», до крайности продвигает согласованное объяснение взаимоотношения элементов внутри нее. Именно таким образом, он обнаруживает условность «структуры» и парадоксально указывает на наличие «внешнего», никак не описываемого языком, а все-таки предполагаемого несомненно существующим.
著者
池田 嘉郎
出版者
北海道大学スラブ研究センター
雑誌
スラヴ研究 (ISSN:05626579)
巻号頁・発行日
no.51, pp.1-27, 2004

Задача статьи -- выяснение взаимоотношений между РКП(б) и сложившимся в годы гражданской войны административным аппаратом на материале Москвы -- ставшей столичным городом, где существовали как влиятельные партийные силы, так и развитый городской аппарат. До сих пор большинство исследователей не замечало противоречий между партией и управленческим аппаратом, отводя последнему роль чисто технического средства, с помощью которого большевики беспрепятственно проводили свои решения. Спору нет, партия всегда обеспечивала свое главенство над аппаратом путем своей идеологической и кадровой политики. Однако, на деле взаимоотношения «идеологов» и «управленцев» складывались не столь просто. Проведенный в данной статье анализ их взаимодействия обнаруживает: чем глубже большевики вовлекались в работу городского управления, тем сильнее они проникались деловым стилем работы. Это, в свою очередь, поднимало значение управленческого аппарата в общественной жизни Москвы, хотя большевики не находили это желательным. Таким образом, партия встала перед противоречивой задачей: повышение эффективности управления хозяйством; сдерживанием разбухания и роста авторитета управленческих структур. Обнаруживается, что осуществить это было довольно трудно. Работа базируется на материалах Центрального государственного архива Московской области и Центрального архива общественных движений Москвы. После победы осенью 1917 г. на выборах в районные думы большевики поневоле были вынуждены заниматься наведением порядка в запущенном городском хозяйстве Москвы. Немногие из них обладали необходимым для этого профессиональным опытом. Соответственно в районных думах было представлено крайне мало их сторонников из числа лиц свободных профессий. По этой причине после победы Октябрьской революции немногие профессионально подготовленные большевики сосредоточились в новом органе городского управления - бюро совета районных дум. Этот возникший на базе бывшей городской управы орган строился соответственно важнейшим отраслям городского управления. Московский Совет такой довольно стройной управленческой структурой не располагал. Поэтому происшедшее в апреле 1918 г. «слияние» двух органов фактически означало основательную реконструкцию Моссовета (органа по большей части представительского) по образцу бюро совета районных дум (органа преимущественно управленческого). В результате внутри нового состава президиума Моссовета между бывшими работниками обоих органов возникли трения. Несмотря на нежелательность коллизий такого рода, в районах также было проведено подобное слияние. В результате к середине 1918 г. основные звенья административного аппарата управления Москвой сложились. К этому же времени в партийных инстанциях обнаружилось недовольство случившимся. Как результат, сотрудников Советов начали критиковать в качестве «чиновников». С другой стороны, из боязни «перерождения» власти в Москве, как и в целом по стране, началось «укрепление партийных рядов», призванное парализовать преобладание в сознании большевиков-управленцев так называемых ведомственных интересов. Таким образом, большевики негативно восприняли утверждение аппарата городского управления, который казался им «чуждым» наследием старого режима. Несмотря на это, среди всей массы большевиков единого взгляда на задачи городского управления не было. Во-первых, встал вопрос о характере взаимоотношений между комиссарами и заведующими учреждениями, с одной стороны, и партийными ячейками, то есть рядовыми большевиками -- с другой. Московский комитет партии (МК) столкнулся с данной проблемой в конце июля в связи с конфликтом в трамвайном парке. Дело в том, что в ходе реорганизации управления парком было уволено слишком много трамвайщиков, в том числе членов партии, при полном игнорировании мнения партийной ячейки. Сначала МК поддержал рядовых большевиков и пришел к решению о том, что заведующие и комиссары должны согласовать свои начинания с низовыми парторганизациями. Однако это повлекло за собой беспорядки, вызванные грубым вмешательством ячеек в работу управленческого аппарата. Поэтому МК был вынужден уже в октябре пересмотреть свое решение: теперь заведующим и комиссарам позволялось проводить свои решения по управленческим вопросам вопреки мнениям партийных ячеек. Таким образом МК предпочел сохранить известную самостоятельность принятия решений управленческим аппаратом ради нормальной работы городского хозяйства. Во-вторых, МК пришлось заняться проблемой распределения мебели. В 1918 г., особенно после покушения на Ленина, рядовые члены партии в Москве принялись рьяно изгонять представителей «буржуазии» из их квартир, выдвинув при этом требование распределения мебели между беднейшими слоями городского населения. В принципе, лидеры партии города согласились с этим предложением. Однако обнаружилась принципиальная разница между мнением верхов и низов партии: первые хотели изъять мебель лишь у настоящих «буржуев», рядовые партийцы требовали тотальной конфискации мебели в городе. Ясно, что новые «отцы города» побоялись сверхрадикализации рядовых большевиков и последующей за этим анархии уравнительности. Примечательна логика, с помощью которой партийные верхи отстаивали свое мнение. Они доказывали, что поскольку главная цель пролетариата -- подавление буржуазии, то мебель следует конфисковать только у ее представителей. В данном случае основная идеологическая установка большевиков развернулась так, чтобы сдержать радикализм низов и навязать им выгодную для собственных управленческих удобств линию поведения. Так, идеология партии иногда могла послужить задачам стабилизации городского управления, а не активизации «творчества масс». Таким образом, задачи городского управления во все большей степени начинали определять стиль жизни партийной диктатуры. Именно поэтому ей пришлось периодически перетряхивать собственную управленческую систему на предмет соответствия последней «чистоте» идеологии. Первым симптомом стала «антибюрократическая» кампания, начатая в октябре 1918 г. В ходе ее на страницах газет в полную мощь разоблачался «бюрократизм» советских служащих и управленческих структур. Голос прагматичных большевиков, склонных к деловому сотрудничеству с управленцами, остался в меньшинстве. В процессе кампании в представлениях большевиков о политическом порядке окончательно утвердилась идея принципиального противопоставления партии управленческому аппарату. Решение МК и постановление Восьмого съезда партии в марте 1919 г. по организационному вопросу завершили кампанию, соответственно разграничив сферы компетенции и деятельности, как партии, так и госаппарата. Эти документы отражали сложность положения пришедших к власти революционеров, столкнувшихся с непомерным ростом влияния якобы «чуждого» их задачам управленческого аппарата.
著者
森 美矢子
出版者
北海道大学スラブ研究センター
雑誌
スラヴ研究 (ISSN:05626579)
巻号頁・発行日
no.47, pp.217-248, 2000

This paper looks at the attempts made between 1987 and 1988 to reform and revive Komsomol under the pressure of political and social change, and their consequences that paradoxically led to the collapse of Komsomol. When we explore the process of Perestroika and the breakdown of the Soviet Union, we tend to perceive Perestroika simply as the prologue to the collapse of the Union and interpret all factors and phenomena during Perestroika from the perspective of how they contributed to the demise of the Soviet system. While it is true that Perestroika ultimately brought about the collapse of the old regime, ten years have elapsed since the beginning of Perestroika. I believe that a more critical and historical examination of the complicated and contradicted process of Perestroika is necessary. Upon reconsidering the historical meaning of Perestroika, it is puzzling to realize how the measures were first initiated to make the system work better, and then transformed intentionally or unintentionally under given circumstances, thus deviating from their original aims and reaching completely different results. Komsomol, as I will examine later, is a good example of this process. Komsomol was one of the major 'social organizations' with enormous membership and a very high saturation rate among the Soviet young. It had been an indispensable part of the Soviet political system, functioning as a mobilization and indoctrination machine since the early years of nation construction. Therefore, even though it had little actual importance and autonomy in political decision making, it did have the potential to exercise great influence on the potential of Perestroika as a driving force of political and social change. As a matter of fact, Komsomol played an important role in determining the direction of Perestroika. It came to be an avant-garde of economic change and secure a position as a leading actor in the emerging market economy and consumerism. In the chapters of this paper, I will investigate the transformation process of Komsomol, which resulted in its eventual fragmentation and collapse, in close connection with the destination of Perestroika. This paper is composed as follows. First of all, I will survey the critical situation of Komsomol just prior to Perestroika and the measures of the Party to make Komsomol more effective as a doctrination machine. Several months after the introduction of Perestroika, the glasnost' uncovered the pathological reality of Komsomol, triggering harsh attacks on it from the society. Holding serious concerns for the future of Komsomol, the Party and Komsomol officials at last proclaimed to start genuene reform. In the second chapter, I will examine the consequence of his reform and discuss the problems, especially the draft of the new "ustav" which was presented at the 20th Komsomol Congress. This marked the actual starting point for making the new Komsomol. In the following section, the two principal directions of Komsomol reform will be elucidated separately in detail. The first is the giving of greater autonomy to the local organizations. The second is the representation of youth interests as an interest association. Komsomol's post-reform direction will then be discussed in the conclusion. Up to the end of 1986, Komsomol seemed to be very reluctant to do anything special even amidst the criticism that was being leveled against it. It rather belatedly declared to hold the 20th Congress in April 1987 to revise the "ustav" (rules) of the organization. Complains and opinions about Komsomol were concentrated on the widening gap between Komsomol and ordinary young people. In the course of active discussions in preparation for the Congress, a general consent was formed that Komsomol should be more responsive to young people's interests through the establishment of local organizations, especially primary organizations. It was believed that Komsomol should grant these organizations rights to decide policies, and allocate budgets for staffing and activities such as local recruitment. The aim was to reform Komsomol from a youth mobiliser to a youth representative. At the 20th Congress, the directions referred to above were officially confirmed and the "ustav" revised accordingly. Therefore it was in the 20th Congress that Komsomol took the first step to remake itself to survive under the unique circumstances brought about by Perestroika, showing not only the members but also the other organizations which Komsomol was working with Komsomol's two new directions of giving local organizations more autonomy and becoming an initiator of the youth interests not a mobiliser of the youth force. Despite this, real change inside Komsomol had not begun yet. An exploration of the practical changes that emerged after the Congress and their effects on the future of Komsomol is necessary. The ideal image of the new Komsomol formulated by the 20th Congress was one that would be activated by the initiatives from the below. Empowerment of local organizations, especially the primary organizations, thus was essential for real change. The authorization of primary organizations to make final decisions on recruitment and the abolishment of membership targets was welcomed by the local organizations that had in the past been prevented from other substantial activities. The effectiveness of local organization largely depended, however, on the quantity of funds and the quality of staff. Thus from 1987 to 1988, local organizations were only gradually given autonomy form the central committee not only on the jurisdiction of the activities, but also on the budget and the personnel administration. The measures mentioned above gave the local organizations the incentive to earn funds because they had to survive on their own at the time the membership began to decline. This meant that through local organizations getting autonomy more and more, Komsomol was becoming more and more centrifugal instead of a united active political force supported from below. This contradicted development can also be seen in the another direction Komsomol took to transform itself under Perestroika. For a long time, Komsomol had been functioning as the main mobilization machine to provide human resources for economic purposes. It had been in charge of students construction brigates (SSOs) and Komsomol storming units (KUOs), sending labor fources to destinated sites or factories that had high economic priority. But this had largely been against their will and interests according to rank and file members. So when it confronted the difficult situation around 1987, in order to restore authority among the members, it was natural that Komsomol turned to the very members who were accusing it of being indifferent to the welfare of the nation's youth through a failure to resist hindrance by governmental or economic organizations. The members appealed to its status as the only representative of the youth, arguing that it should be a reliable promoter of their interests through acquiring the right to determine how much labor forces to supply, where to send brigades and so on. Moreover, through 1987 and 1988, local organizations began to mobilize labor to create profit-making enterprises under Komsomol auspices. The professed aim of the measure was to increase the income of the participants of SSOs or KSUs by giving them the chance to make profits at their own discretion. It should not be overlooked that Komsomol's interest in the measure was to utilize these enterprises to make money because it had to maintain the organization and support the staff in spite of the declining membership and income from membership fees. SSOs, KSUs and other forms like youth housing complexes (MZhKs) which were originally made to provide young workers opportunities to acquire dwelling through social competition got to be the foundation for Komsomol to develop profit-making enterprises which would be leading to genuine Komsomol businesses in the near future. In other words, the Komsomol transformation into be the representative of youth interests entailed the shift from political activities to profit making ones. As a consequence, we can consider Komsomol to have been one of the leading pioneers in making of the market economy in the Soviet Union. As was already mentioned, Komsomol's underlying rationale for reform was to survive the radical political and social change around 1987. Thus it took fundamental actions to be responsive to the demands of youth and to the circumstances under Perestroika. Its breakdown was not due to the obstinate resistance of the stubborn conservative careerists in Komsomol. It was also not the result of any students' revolts or social uprisings. At the present stage, it is necessary to further illuminate the process by which Komsomol reformed itself and should refrain from assertive conclusions. However, it can be assumed that the collapse of Komsomol was an unexpected outcome inadvertently brought about by actions aimed at creating a new Komsomol, but that these actions deviated gradually from their original purpose and drove Komsomol into fragmentation and finally collapse. This paper attempts to analyse this process and serves as a preliminary step to further investigation.
著者
森 美矢子
出版者
北海道大学スラブ研究センター
雑誌
スラヴ研究 (ISSN:05626579)
巻号頁・発行日
no.50, pp.143-175, 2003

This paper focuses on the relationship between Komsomol and informal organizations under Perestroika. Perestroika brought immense social change to Soviet society. Komsomol had to face, for the first time in its long history, rival informal youth organizations not subordinate to, but independent of its power. An investigation of this new situation and analysis of the transformation of formal organizations like Komsomol sheds light on the transition and social change experienced during the final days of the Soviet system. First, this paper will examine the appearance of various informal youth organizations under Perestroika, ranging from amateur hobby clubs to political groups. Simultaneously it will explore the tactics used by Komsomol to compete with them for support among young people and to survive in the new situation. This discussion will include an examination of the roles played by Komsomol and the informal youth organizations during Perestroika. This paper focuses on the period from the 20th Komsomol Congress held in April, 1987 until June, 1988, when there were heated demands for democratization at the 19th Party Conference. It was in this period that the informal organizations not only played the most important role in promoting social change, but Komsomol also devised strategies to revive its role as a youth organization. As background, we will trace the history of the relations between Komsomol and the informal youth organizations. At first, Komsomol had to take young people from traditional youth organizations in order to become the only formal youth organization in the Soviet system. Although Komsomol acquired this status in the late 1920s, there was an ongoing struggle to retain this monopoly in the face of continual attempts to create informal youth organizations. In the 1970s, informal organizations of youth, mostly hobby clubs like rock music clubs became an essential part of life for ordinary young people. They enjoyed their leisure time in a subculture beyond the influence of Komsomol. These organizations were not directly anti-Soviet nor even politically oriented. Nevertheless, they were threatening to the authorities as potential enemies because they were making Soviet ideology less influential among the youth, the future-builders of Soviet society. The renewed Cold War that broke out at the beginning of the 1980s made Komsomol confront a hard situation: how to protect Soviet youth from the evil subculture of the West. Under these circumstances, Komsomol adopted a new policy for informal organizations. That is, instead of suppressing all of them, Komsomol began to select "better" organizations both to promote and to keep under control the leisure activities of Soviet youth. Second, this paper will examine this new Komsomol policy toward informal youth organizations. After Perestroika began, as society became more and more active, ideological restrictions rapidly weakened. Komsomol decided to "register" the informal youth hobby clubs and permit them to operate freely under its supervision. This new approach greatly increased the possibility both for cooperation and friction between Komsomol and the informal organizations. In addition, new organizations appeared such as those protecting cultural assets or others promoting ecological awareness. Further, youth groups involved in political discussions gradually emerged. These new organizations were considered the pioneers of Perestroika and were starting to rival Komsomol. The 20th Komsomol Congress was the first opportunity to discuss the relationship between Komsomol and the emerging informal youth organizations. At this Congress, Komsomol declared that they could not become an alternative to Komsomol. It also tried to transform itself into a political organization to represent youth interests. Third, this paper analyzes the politicization of the informal youth organizations in the spring just before the 19th Party Conference. At last, Komsomol recognized that it could not avoid talking on equal terms with the informal political organizations concerning the future of all youth organizations, including Komsomol itself. The informal organizations and Komsomol delegates met several times to discuss political problems in general and to make a joint appeal to the 19th Conference. The 19th Conference was a very important venue for Komsomol to insure its role and status in the emerging system. After the discussions with the informal organizations, Komsomol devised a new strategy: It would become one of many youth organizations and it would cooperate with the others to advance Perestroika. Komsomol abandoned its earlier strategy of maintaining a monopoly over youth organizations. It realized that it could survive only if it became reconciled with the informal organizations that were more popular and more influential among the youth. To improve its image and survive, Komsomol would have to work in partnership with the other groups. After the 20th Congress, a partnership was gradually established between Komsomol and the informal youth organizations in the area of leisure and cultural activities because such cooperation would serve to make Komsomol more popular. Ironically however, Komsomol was losing its organizational unity and identity as a youth organization due to its success in constructing a cooperative relationship with the informal organizations. In addition, after the 19th Conference, the search for a political partnership between Komsomol and the informal organizations became more difficult. Under Perestroika, Komsomol had to transform itself in order to compete with the informal organizations. This transformation process and the evolving relationship between Komsomol and the informal youth organizations are ongoing. They are a topic for future research on the role of Komsomol under Perestroika.