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How Dusya Became a Weaver
“I’m a weaver,” says Dusya. “I’d made up my mind to become one while still a kid at school. I was in the Young Pioneers, and our Pioneer group often used to make excursions to the textile mill. The very first time I saw the white linen and the machines at work, I knew I was going to be a weaver. I told my mother I wanted to be one, too.
“In 1929 I made an application to be admitted to the factory trade school. No sooner had I entered the school than my girl friends all told me I was going to be put in the spinners’ class. I was angry and upset. Would I be assigned to study as a weaver, or would I really be put in the spinners’ class, as my school friends prophesied? These doubts were soon dispelled, however, when the principal of the school came and divided up the new pupils. I was put in the course for weavers. My joy knew no bounds.
“A few days later our studies began. On the very first day I wrote in my copybook: ‘Dusya Vinogradova, weaver.’
“Weaving, the main item in our course of study, was what I loved above all else. I was not content with the lectures given by our teachers, but read many technical books at home into the bargain. Practical work in the mill was what I looked forward to most of all in my day’s work. Here I was given 2 looms to tend at first, then 4, and at last 7. During my two years’ study I did not get a single bad mark.
“After finishing at the factory trade school, I was given 16 aulomatic looms to tend. You can imagine how glad I was! Well, in the first month I just couldn’t do it. I produced so much spoiled output that it makes me quite ashamed to think of it now — 40 per cent, no less! — and I only fulfilled 60 per cent of the plan. But I had the will to work better. I went carefully over all the looms, made full use of the knowledge I had gained at school, made a lot of suggestions to the foreman for improving things. The machines were overhauled, and from then on the work really did go better.
“In 1933 I was chosen, as one of the best weavers, to reinforce the young workers’ brigade. At that time I was already working on 26 looms. Later on, I took over 52 looms and fulfilled my plan 102 per cent. Our trade union gave me a premium for my good work. Altogether, I have been awarded quite a number of premiums. This year alone I have received 800 rubles in premiums, and in the past four years I’ve had nine premiums in all. Aside from that, I was sent on a trip to Moscow and Leningrad, and given a ten days’ holiday in a rest-home. That is how our work is appreciated in the Soviet Union.
“All this, and the life I enjoy today, I owe to the care taken of me by the Party and Young Communist League. I have been trained by the Party of Lenin, brought up in the spirit of this Party. Since childhood I was in the Young Pioneers, and am now a member of the Young Communist League, which I love like my own mother. In my speech in the Kremlin, at the conference of Stakhanov workers, I said
“‘I would like to thank Comrade Stalin, the Central Committee of the Party, and the Soviets for the happy life I now lead. I am happier than I ever was before I Comrade Stalin, it is you who, have given me this life!’
“And now,” Dusya concludes, “I am preparing to enter the academy. Early next year I shall be coming to Moscow to study, and in four years’ time I shall be a textile engineer.”
Such are the prospects opening before the free and happy young people of the Land of Soviets!
Dusya Invites Us to Tea
I hold in my hands a little slip of paper, on which is written:
|
INVITATION CARD
Dear Comrade Friedrich,
I invite you to come to my new apartment at 2 p.m. today for a cup of tea with me.
My address is: First of May Street, No.8.
With Communist greetings,
Dusya Vinogradova
|
A sound of cheerful laughter meets me on the doorstep. No less than thirty of Dusya’s workmates have gathered here in response to the invitation, including the mill manager, Comrade Panov, the secretary of the Party committee, Comrade Svetlov, the leader of Young Communist League work in the mill, and also several of the older Pioneers from the Pioneer detachment of which Dusya is leader.
Dusya tells us about Moscow and her meeting with Stalin at the Stakhanov Conference. “Oh, how excited I was when they told us, ‘You’re going to meet Stalin today’! But when he came in, I felt quite calm. He’s quite a plain man, like the rest of us. Only he’s got such clear eyes — they shine like bright lights.”
With the most natural air in the world, as though nothing special had happened, she goes on to tell us how she talked with Stalin, how she gave him her promise that “our mill” would win the competition with the Bolshevik Textile Plant, where Odintsova is working. “Yes, I gave Stalin this promise, and I going to keep it. And you” — she turns to her comrades — ”must help me do it.”
I begin to take a look round the apartment, and find Dusya’s bookcase. Here are the collected works of Lenin and Stalin, Ilya Ehrenburg’s new book Without Taking Breath, Sholokhov’s Quiet Flows the Don, etc. But here too, placed within easy reach of Dusya’s chair, is a shelf of books which especially awaken my interest — Walter Scott, Jules Verne and others — books of travel, adventure stories, descriptions of far-off countries. These books are Dusya’s favourites. She would like to travel, too.
“I’d love to visit your country,” she tells me. Involuntarily I find myself asking her: “Have you ever seen a capitalist?” And Dusya replies: “Only at the movies.’
Such is the young Soviet generation, the generation that knows of capitalism only by hearsay, that finds it hard to picture the lack of freedom under the capitalist system.
I involuntarily recall the letter of a certain comrade, who was not quite clear about some questions connected with the Stakhanov movement, and wrote: “If the Stakhanovites are earning so much, they will soon be all capitalists themselves.” I tell my gay friends about this letter. “No, no,” comes the answer from all sides. ‘we won’t be capitalists. We’re just living well, that’s all, and seeing to it that we live better and better. You know, we’re just as good at sport as we are at work.” Dusya proudly points to her “Ready for Labour and Defence” badge, awarded to athletes who pass certain tests in swimming, jumping, running, shooting and other forms of sport. “And I can dance well, too. I enjoy life — every minute of it — and I don’t ever want to die. You know, that’s not so impossible either. Some professor or other will become a Stakhanovite and invent a way to make you go on living for ever.” These words of hers express the joy of life that is so characteristic of the young Soviet generation, of all Soviet people. “Life has improved, life has become more joyous,” says Stalin. Dusya and her friends are the living proof of this.
They assail me with questions. They want to know whether the women textile workers in our country, above all the younger ones, have such a good time of it as they. I recall the women textile workers of Czechoslovakia, who come home with a weekly wage of 40-50 kronen; the 80,000 textile workers who are jobless; the tens of thousands of looms that are standing idle; the young working class girls and boys who have never seen the inside of a mill or workshop, whose whole life is overshadowed by the gloomy hopelessness of the future.
“But won’t there be unemployment in the Soviet Union, too?” asked a textile worker’s wife from Kratzau; she was referring to the Stakhanov movement and the Stakhanovites’ high rate of work, which, she thought, would make so many other workers superfluous and cause them to lose their jobs. I interpret her question to the others.
“This question is easy to understand,” answers Dusya. “If our mill were a capitalist one, then, of course, these workers would be fired, and Marusya and I and my other friends wouldn’t have been at all anxious to do work over and above the assignment. But in our mill, increasing the rate of work hasn’t led to any workers being fired. We’ve simply started working three shifts instead of two. And quite a number of weavers are working as instructors, training others for the job. There are 800 young workers being trained in our factory trade school alone. They work three hours in the mill and study three hours in the school. They get paid too, of course. And then, when all the machines are busy in all three shifts, and there are workers to spare — well, we’ll simply install new machines and build new mills, and then we’ll all have more and cheaper clothes than we have now, and the wages of all workers will go up still further. ”
I can hardly repress a smile. A short while back Dusya showed me a trunk full of new clothes which she has had made for herself recently, bundles of silk and other material sent her by admirers and emulators in different textile mills throughout the country. She showed me a silk dress that cost 220 rubles, a fine winter coat that she had made for herself in Moscow, a fur jacket that she also brought back from Moscow, and much else. “Why, are you wanting another fur?” I ask her jokingly. But Dusya answers quite seriously: “I won’t be wanting one long. I’ve ordered a second fur in Ivanovo, and I’m going to give Mother one, too. You see — if I want a thing, I buy it. I can afford anything I want. I’m not going to be a capitalist, though,” she added, in reference to our previous talk.
And she is right. Remember that Dusya and her brigade on their 216 machines turn out enough cloth for 100,000 dresses a year. Consider the consequences of this, abroad and in the Soviet Union. There, it would lead to a terrible accentuation of the crisis, to yet greater distress among the masses of the population. Here, such achievements open up boundless prospects before the people. The wealth of society increases, wages rise, goods grow cheaper. The tremendous rise in labour productivity which the Stakhanov movement brings with it, and the changed attitude of men towards their work which this movement signifies and which socialism renders possible, are paving the way, as Stalin so plainly proved, for a transition to the second, higher stage of development — from socialism to communism. Under communism, every one will be able to partake of the goods of society according to his needs. Work will be so easy and productive, the worker’s social consciousness and level of culture so high that each one will voluntarily and willingly do as much work as his faculties permit, while, on the other hand, there will be such a quantity of food, clothing, furniture and everything else that these things will no longer be bought and sold, but each will receive as much as he needs. Such are the future prospects of communism which the Stakhanov movement unfolds. Tending 216 looms abroad would mean conjuring up still greater, untold misery among the masses. Tending 216 looms in the Soviet Union, where people work for themselves, means paving the way to the greatest prosperity and happiness of millions of people.
A Day with Dusya Vinogradova
Dusya is working the night shift just now — from 2 a.m. till 9 a.m. Her fresh cheerful vigour after her seven hours’ work is itself the best answer to the many incredulous questions as to whether working on 216 looms is not too great a strain for her, does not leave her unfit for anything after the shift is over. No, Dusya does not even lie down after work. Work for her is a pleasure which neither weakens nor tires her. At 11 a.m. she has a meeting of her Pioneers — the Pioneer group over which Dusya, as member of the Young Communist League, has charge. She is met with a loud and cheerful “Always ready,” the Pioneer greeting. Today she tells the children about her work on 216 looms:
“I work on 216 machines in one shift. I’ve turned out 2,390 metres of fabric, and I’m not a bit tired. Well, that’s not all. I want to do what our teacher Stalin said — get the very most out of the machinery, and then you just see, children, I’ll turn out 2,500 metres in one shift. We’ll have the best linen, the best cloth in the whole world. But I’m going to demand more of you Pioneers, too. You must study real hard. I’m beginning to study all over again myself. I’m preparing to enter the engineering academy, and am learning German and English. In four years I’ll be a textile engineer.”
These sincere words of Dusya’s enthuse the children. “That’s right,” answers the leading Pioneer on behalf of all the rest, “we can’t write two exercises at once, it’s true, but we can study hard. We’re all going to take a leaf out of your book, Dusya. And we’ve got some news for you today — all members of our Pioneer group have been given marks of excellent.”
They are splendid children, strong, healthy children such as can grow up only under the prosperous conditions of the Land of Soviets. I am interested to know what they want to study later on in life. So I ask them what they would like to be. Tamara wants to be a chemist, Nina wants to study physics and mathematics, Vera has set her heart on becoming an aviator (I learn, by the way, that several of them have already made parachute jumps from the wooden tower in the park), Ludmila wants to be a gym teacher or to enter the military academy. Lida has a special interest in astronomy, and so it goes on.
Is it anything out of the ordinary for a child to express such wishes in the Soviet Union? No, for the children, too, feel certain that their wishes can and will be fulfilled. But just try asking working-class children in our country what their wishes are. In most cases they will want material things — a square meal, warm clothes and so forth. And those working-class children who do talk of their favourite occupations, of what they would like to be, can only do so with a note of wistfulness, as of something unattainable, beyond their reach…
However, the Pioneers have a special duty to perform today. In full muster, with Dusya at their head, they go off to visit the manager of the Nogin Mill. They present him with a demand on behalf of the Pioneer group for better club-rooms for the children. The premises in use up to the present were all right in summer time, it is true, but now, with winter here, they are not good enough. And Comrade Panov, the mill manager, promises to meet this demand at the mill’s expense. He is in a position to do so, too. Thanks to the ‘Vinogradova method of work,” the mill has not only fulfilled its plan of output ahead of time, but can show a clear profit of one million rubles for the year. Half of this sum must be handed over to the People’s Commissariat for Light Industry, but the other 500,000 rubles go to the mill. Of this, 250,000 rubles are being spent on the further extension of the mill and other improvements, while the rest goes direct to satisfy the cultural requirements of the workers.
Singing cheerful songs, merrily stamping through the snow, the children see Dusya home. Here Dusya’s mother has already prepared a good meal. The Young Communist League secretary is invited to dinner today, besides myself. Shall I describe the dinner we had?
Russian beetroot soup with meat.
Roast chicken with rice and pickled gherkins.
Stewed fruit.
Coffee — Cake — Candy.
Wine.
Such was the bill of fare which prompted me to ask how high Dusya’s household expenses were per day. She did not know, for her mother had been doing the house keeping since giving up work in the mill. But she, too, found it impossible to answer my question. With the best will in the world, she said, she could not say exactly. She just bought what they needed, and now, when guests were dropping in almost daily, with or without notice, it was well-nigh impossible to keep check of all household expenses. Besides, food prices had gone down a great deal of late.
It’s true. Material well-being meets you at every step here. The workers take their fill of everything. Food shops are filled with every sort of delicacy, department stores are abundantly supplied with goods of every kind, and all these things are accessible to everyone. The crowded stores bear witness to the purchasing power of the population; anyone can buy anything. Well dressed people, dinner-tables laden with good things, theatres, cinemas and concert halls with every seat sold out — all this shows the growing prosperity of the Soviet people.
Before we have finished eating, Dusya has to run off to answer the phone. It is the sports instructor ringing up to consult with her on how to organize his work better. Tomorrow a news-reel film is to be taken in the mill; an entire “movie brigade” has come down to Vichuga. The producer wants to have a talk with Dusya about this. The editor of the local newspaper rings up and demands an article. The shop superintendent rings up to remind Dusya of the conference to be held today, and so it goes on. We talk about this and that. Time flies. We must be off to the conference.
On the way, Dusya points out the new children’s hospital, the big palatial club buildings, the many new apartment houses built by the mill for its workers.
“I was born here in Vichuga I’ve seen all this grow up with my own eyes.’ Pointing round her, she tells me: “There used to be nothing here but fields and woods. When we were children, we used to go out looking for mushrooms here. Now the place is covered with new apartment houses for the workers, new schools. You know, we have 12 schools here — quite a lot for a little town like ours. In 1930 there were only 6, and next year we shall have 2 more.”
Of the 12 schools, there are 6 elementary schools, 2 seven-year schools (a combination of elementary and lower secondary school), and 1 ten-year schools (a combination of elementary and secondary school). In all, there are 7,600 children at school in Vichuga. This is an uncommonly high figure, far higher than you will find in any town of the same size abroad. In addition to this, the town possesses two factory trade schools, a teachers’ training college and a medical school. The Soviet government provides well for the training of the younger generation.
We have reached the mill. The women weavers of all three shifts are gathered for a conference with the chief engineer, to discuss questions of organizing the work. Dusya and her friends eagerly take part in the discussion; they are interested in all questions connected with the working of the mill — it is their mill. Today Dusva demands that more attention be paid to quickly removing the woven fabric, for rolls of cloth left lying around only hinder the work.
What shall we do now? We visit Marusya in her apartment, then go off to the movies. The movies over, it is time for Dusya to get a bit of sleep before starting work again…
An Unusual Batch of Letters
Every day the postman brings a regular pile of letters to Dusya Vinogradova’s address. Letters from every corner of the country. People write to her from the Far North, from the South, East and West. “I have seen letters from Tashkent, from Azerbaijan, from Siberia, from the Caucasus, from Buryat-Mongolia,” her friend Vasyutina tells us. Boys and girls write to her, workers, collective farmers, aviators, engineers, Red Army men, seamen of the Red Fleet, teachers, actors, writers, scientists. Dusya Vinogradova does not know the people who write; and yet the letters are filled with a feeling of friendship.
Dusya’s face, as she reads these letters, is a mixture of happiness and confusion. There are too many of them, she’ll never be able to answer them all.
Here, for example, is a letter from the White Sea coast:
“Good morning, dear Comrade Dusya!
“You may be quite sure that I, too, mean to join the ranks of our country’s heroes. I want to tell you that we are starting on an expedition today. I am writing these lines on the job, right in my seaplane. Dusya! As a sign of friendship, I’ve made up my mind to shoot a polar bear and send it you as a present.” (Dusya confesses to me that she answered this correspondent, saying it would be sufficient if he sent her the skin.) “I’d like to fly straight off to you. But, of course, I can’t desert my post like that. The Soviets have given me the title of engineer, and I’m fighting hard to master technique, to conquer nature. And when we’re through with our job, I’m going to fly straight over and see you. Up here, it’s winter now — endless night, raging storms, cold. But we’re conquering, exploring the North, fighting against nature.”
“I see your photo in the papers, read about your records, and this inspires me to tackle my task of mastering military technique with still greater enthusiasm than before, to defend our fatherland, the U.S.S.R., which has given birth to people like you, Dusya!” writes Michael Koroskin, a Red Army man from Leningrad.
Filomonov, serving in the Red Army out beyond Lake Baikal, writes Dusya that he is remaining in the army after his term of service has expired, and promises her not to be guilty of a single dereliction of duty. There are many such letters promising to rival Dusya’s achievements by achievements in other spheres.
“From the high mountain ranges of the Caucasus we send Red Army greetings to our renowned countrywoman, Dusya Vinogradova. We, too, shall not be behindhand. We are completing our studies with splendid success,” writes a group of students at a military academy.
Young Pioneers from Gorky write that they are proud of Dusya, and that they will now do all they can to become the best Pioneer group in the city.
Comrade Tolkov, student at the school for propagandists in Shuya, comments on Dusya’s happy life, possible only in the Soviet Union, and begs her not to get swellheaded, not to become “dizzy with success.” Comrade Martynov, on the other hand, who is working as aviation instructor at Koktebel, makes her the following proposal:
“Please let me know what education you have received, what political and general training. I would like to challenge you to competition in study. Though I am very busy, I would like to compete with you in self-teaching and self-education. Your example is contagious.”
Red Army man Nikolai Zhignost writes:
“I hive read about you and fallen in love with you. And so, Dusya, I feel very deeply that I’d like to get acquainted with one of the best girls in the Soviet Union, whose frontiers I defend, and that’s you. We could give each other the best advice...”
And how many wonderful letters Dusya gets from young mill girls in the textile industry! They love her like a sister. Indeed, they are her sisters at work — these girls who live, perhaps, at the opposite end of the country, but who are doing the same job as she.
“Do you know, Dusya,” writes Nadya Chernyakova, woman weaver in the Red Echo Mill at Pereyaslavl. “I think you’re just the same as other people, only you love your job and are anxious to give the country more goods of better quality. But I love my mill, too, so why shouldn’t I work like you do? I’ve decided to follow your example, and I’ve fulfilled my plan 115 per cent without any spoiled output.”
Dusya Poludnitskaya and Raya Khomenko, women workers in the Stalin Textile Mill, Tashkent, write that they were fired by Dusya’s example and began working first on 24, then on 36 and at last on 100 looms.
“You’re lucky!” writes Klava Anisimova from Kirov (former Vyatka) enthusiastically. “The whole U.S.S.R. acknowledges you as one of our country’s best workers, calls you a heroine, though you’re not a pilot or an engineer, and haven’t performed any deed of heroism. I know it’s not for the sake of glory that you’re mastering technique and breaking records. And now I’d like to be of as much use to our country as you are…”
Dusya — One of Many
The Stakhanov movement is spreading like wildfire over the whole Soviet country. Dusya is but one of many. In her own mill there is her namesake, Marusya Vinogradova, there is the woman weaver Podsoblayeva, both of whom, inspired by her example, are also working on 216 looms. In the neighbouring textile mill there is Tasya Odintsova, who has started a competition with these three and does not mean to be left behind. Odintsova wrote the following letter to Stalin:
“Dear Joseph Vissarionovich,
“In answer to your words ‘We shall see who wins’, interjected during my speech at the Stakhanov conference, I and my fellow-workers, Comrades Lapshina and Tsibina, have entered into competition with the best textile workers of the Soviet Union, Dusya and Marusya Vinogradova, and on November 24 we began working on 216 automatic looms. I worked the first shift. In seven hours I wove 2,349 metres of fabric, fulfilling the plan 107.9 per cent.
“In one year we three weavers turn out material for more than 300,000 dresses. Once more I assure you, Comrade Stalin, that I shall not be behind Dusya Vinogradova.
“ With Young Communist greetings,
“TASYA ODINTSOVA
“Weaver at the Bolshevik Mill,
Rodniki.”
That is how hundreds and thousands of the best Soviet workers write. That is how thousands and tens of thousands of Stakhanovites work.
In the tractor plants of Leningrad and Kharkov one tractor now leaves the conveyor every 2½ minutes. The railway car industry has fulfilled its year’s plan ahead of time and supplied the Soviet railways with 80,000 freight cars, as against 27,000 last year. In 1935 Soviet cotton farms produced 32,000,000 poods of cotton (c. 2,400.000 U.S. bales), as against 23,000,000 poods in the previous year. It was this record cotton harvest, achieved by the enthusiastic toil of the Stakhanovites of socialist agriculture, above all by the collective farms of Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, that made possible the gigantic spurt forward taken by the textile industry. By December 1, 1935, the Soviet food industry had produced 25 per cent more food products than in the corresponding period of the previous year. The Soviet Union has taken second place in the world in gold out put, outstripping the U.S.A. in this sphere. In all branches of economic life the country is continually advancing.
In eleven months of 1935 Soviet heavy industry produced 2¼ times as much as was produced by the entire large-scale industry of tsarist Russia in a similar period. One of the main factors in achieving this victory has been the exemplary work of Stakhanovites. Stakhanov, Borisov, Dyukanov and many other crack miners, together with their brigades, have taken out as much as 400, 500 and 700 tons of coal in a six-hour shift. The woman collective farmer, Maria Demchenko, and her comrades have gathered a beet harvest of 500 centners and up ward per hectare from the fields of their collective farms. It would take too long to enumerate the names of all those harvester combine operators who have so thoroughly mastered the working of their machines that they can harvest 400, 600 and even 1,000 hectares of grain in a season. The name of Smetanin, initiator of the Stakhanov movement in the shoemaking industry, that of the engine-driver Krivonoss, who introduced Stakhanov methods on the railways, and those of all other pioneers of the Stakhanov movement are known far and wide.
All these feats were performed by people living under socialist conditions, people whom the Land of Soviets has trained and brought into prominence. Dusya Vinogradova is no exception. She is only one of many.
The Order of Lenin
Yes, it is true. Dusya is not a girl who has won a prize in a ‘beauty contest,” nor does she owe her fame to participation in a “dance marathon.” She has not starved for fourteen days in a glass case, nor did she sit for ten days on the top of a flag pole. These are “feats” which earn a person transitory fame under the capitalist system. Dusya Vinogradova has won fame and honour by plain honest work. Under socialism it is work that ennobles, makes famous. The highest Soviet decoration, the Order of Lenin, has been given to Dusya.
The Soviet order is an imperishable badge of honour. It testifies to the whole country’s respect for honest work well done. It is recognition for socially useful labour, for truly productive work. And this badge of honour and glory is rightfully worn by Dusya Vinogradova and other foremost Stakhanovites.
“People in our country,” said Stalin, “do not work for exploiters, for the enrichment of parasites, but for themselves, for their own class, for their own, Soviet society, where government is wielded by the best members of the working class. That is why labour in our country has social significance, and is a matter of honour and glory. Under capitalism labour bears a private and personal character. You have produced more — well, then, receive more, and live as best you can. Nobody knows you, or wants to know you. You work for the capitalists, you enrich them? Well, what do you expect? That is why they hired you, so that you should enrich the exploiters. You do not agree with that? Well, join the ranks of the unemployed and exist as best you can. We shall find others, more tractable. That is why people’s labour is not valued very highly under capitalism. Under such conditions, of course, there can be no room for a Stakhanov movement. But the case is different under the Soviet system. Here the man who labours is held in esteem. Here he works not for exploiters, but for himself, for his class, for society. Here the man who labours cannot feel neglected and solitary. On the contrary, the man who labours feels himself a free citizen of his country, in a way a public figure. And if he works well and gives society all he can — he is a hero of labour and is covered with glory. Obviously, the Stakhanov movement could have arisen only under such conditions.”
POSTSCRIPT
Socialist Life Makes Heroes of Labour
Every day brings with it fresh “miracles” of socialist production. The Stakhanov movement has let loose a wave of enthusiasm among the Soviet workers. This enthusiasm is founded on the plain fact that every in crease in output contributes to the welfare of all.
The Stakhanov movement is a specifically Soviet thing, a socialist thing. In the capitalist world, where he works for exploiters, the worker will never work as he does in the Soviet Union. The capitalist world can produce no Stakhanovs. There, a similar rise in labour productivity could only lead to at least one third, perhaps one half of the workers being fired, left jobless. In the Soviet Union there is an all-embracing economic plan; the various factories and mills do not work in competition with one another; industry and agriculture do not operate for private profit, but to satisfy the wants of the people; these wants are continually growing, affording a bound less market of consumers for the goods produced.
The increase in labour productivity without the physical exhaustion of the worker, without unemployment or production cuts, cannot be explained on technical grounds. The main reasons for it are simply the socialist relations and conditions of work obtaining in the Soviet Union. The secret of Stakhanov work does not lie in speed-up nor in overstraining of strength, but quite elsewhere. It is a case of a plain workingman, often a better organizer than the engineers themselves, so organizing his own work in his own socialist factory that he can do much more without extra exertion; and in so doing, he not only does not have to rush at his job, but does not even feel greater fatigue than before. Combine a cheerful and complete devotion to the job with perfect mastery of the machinery and correct organization of the labour process, and you get the real essence of the Stakhanov method. Socialism alone makes possible this new, socialist labour efficiency, which thus differs from capitalist labour efficiency not only in quantity but also in kind. Only under socialist conditions and relations of work do the workers master technique and science, instead of the other way about. Under capitalism, the worker is the slave of the machine; the machine spurs the worker on; one worker is set against the other. Under socialism, it is the workers who spur on the machines; they work collectively; labour efficiency is not the outcome of one working against the other, but of free, creative, common labour. Socialist industrialization and the collectivization of agriculture in the Soviet Union have created better living conditions. The improved living conditions of the entire working population created the Stakhanov movement The Stakhanov movement creates new, socialist methods of work, a new, socialist labour efficiency, and thereby refutes all previous pseudo-scientific dogmas regarding standards of output.
At the Stakhanov conference in the Kremlin, Stalin explained how the Soviet system is putting science into the hands of the workers and bridging the gulf between manual labour and brain work. Stalin coined the splendid words: “When life is joyous, work goes well… Life has improved, life has become more joyous… Hence our heroes and heroines of labour.”
The correct organization of work, the raising of labour efficiency are not things that could have been conceived and accomplished at any given moment in any given period of history. They are dependent on the material, psychological and social conditions. What are the material conditions which are enabling the Soviet Union, with the help of the Stakhanov movement, to raise labour efficiency to a higher level? New technique, the success of the Five-Year Plans, and the radical improvement in living conditions which this brought with it. What are the psychological conditions? The firm conviction of the Soviet working class that every step towards raising labour efficiency means an improvement in the living conditions of the whole working class, the whole people, the whole country. What are the social conditions? The economic system and order of society in which there are no exploiters, in which man is the master of his work and of the goods produced by him.
Lenin said that the main, basic problem of socialism was to create a new, higher method of social production, to replace capitalist and petty commodity production by large-scale socialist production. This basic problem of socialism is being solved in the Soviet Union. The conference of Stakhanovites, the conference of the best harvester combine operators, the meeting of delegates from the leading collective farms of Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, the rapid and continual spread of the Stakhanov movement, the entire work of the Bolshevik Part of the Soviet government — all go to help solve this problem. The solution of this problem is proving to all workers throughout the whole world that socialism is a living fact, that it is an organization of labour and an organization of society which ensures a life one hundred times better than capitalism could ever give, even under the most favourable conditions. Hence the rage and hate of the fascists, hence the joy and enthusiasm of the workers in all capitalist countries at the latest mighty victories of the Stakhanov movement in the U.S.S.R.
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