By Clara Weiss, World Socialist Website, 7/9/23

The World Socialist Web Site recently spoke with Stephen Wheatcroft, professorial fellow of Russian and Soviet history at the University of Melbourne, Australia. Wheatcroft is one of the world’s leading experts on the Soviet famine and Soviet economic history more broadly. He has done extensive archival research in the former Soviet Union, and, together with the late Robert W. Davies, he co-authored a seven-volume account of Soviet industrialization. Wheatcroft also co-edited multiple documentary volumes on Soviet agriculture, 1927-1939, and authored multiple articles on the famine, industrialization and other aspects of Soviet history. He has also written on the role of statistics in Vladimir Lenin’s economic thinking and writing and the devastating impact of Stalinism on Soviet statistics.

Based on statistics and reports that became available in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Wheatcroft and Davies provided a comprehensive account of forced collectivization and the famine in the Soviet Union in 1932-1933 in their 2004 volume The Years of Hunger. Their account, unparalleled to this day, is an unanswerable refutation of the now widely promoted lie that the famine constituted an ethnically targeted genocide of Ukrainians or Kazakhs or other specific peoples of the USSR.

The WSWS established contact with Stephen Wheatcroft over our review of Timothy Snyder’s Bloodlands. While legitimizing the Ukrainian far-right distortions of the history of the famine and Soviet history more broadly, Snyder in his book falsely claims to rely on Wheatcroft’s and Davies’ work on the famine. In discussion with the WSWS, Wheatcroft spoke about his findings on the famine, the history of the false claim that the famine constituted an ethnically targeted genocide, the attacks on the concept of objectivity in history, and the current climate in academia. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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Clara Weiss: The Soviet famine and its impact in Ukraine is one of the most complicated and politically loaded subjects of Soviet history. Can you describe how the scholarship on the Soviet famine has developed over the past decades? How would you summarize the key findings of your own research?

Stephen Wheatcroft: The question of responsibility for the famine in Ukraine is very important, especially at this difficult time when very incendiary claims are being made. During the first Cold War, I thought it important to try to maintain a sense of realism when looking at the Gulag. The reality of the Gulag was abhorrent in itself. To exaggerate its size by a factor of more than four or five, as did those who claimed that there were 8-12 million people in the Gulag on the eve of World War II, diminished the impact of the Gulag by making it less real. The exaggerated scale fitted in with the idea that repression was the totality of what the Soviet Union was about. I hope that I played a role in undermining the totalitarian view of Soviet politics and in establishing a more realistic understanding of the scale and nature of repression and politics in the Soviet Union.

In the 1970s, as a student, I was able to spend two years studying in Moscow on a British Council Exchange at the Moscow Institute of National Economics: The Plekhanov Institute, and it had a profound effect on my outlook and understanding of Soviet society. I got to know and understand many leading Soviet historians, especially Viktor Danilov. Such exchanges are no longer possible, and the possibilities of us improving our understanding of different cultures is made more difficult.

The opening of the Soviet archives in the 1990s was a great breakthrough in our understanding of Soviet history. There was a brief period when Robert Conquest and other Cold War warriors and enthusiasts for totalitarianism claimed that the materials emerging from the archives about the scale of repression that challenged their views were all fakes, but eventually they were forced to accept that the data emerging from the archives were real, although they still managed to avoid admitting that their previous estimates of the scale of repression were wrong.

When working on our book on the Soviet famine and food problems of 1931-33, R.W. Davies and I were able to use the state and party archives (up to the party Central Committee level). And even though we could not directly access the Politburo and State Security archives, our work with Viktor Danilov and his group gave us some access to these materials also. We thought that our book [Wheatcroft/Davies, The Years of Hunger, 2004] had resolved many of the earlier disputes over the nature and causation of the famine. We concluded our volume by distinguishing our views from those of Robert Conquest. Conquest, we wrote, had claimed “that Stalin ‘wanted a famine,’ that ‘the Soviets did not want the famine to be coped with successfully,’ and that the Ukrainian famine was ‘deliberately inflicted for its own sake.’ This leads him to the sweeping conclusion: ‘The main lesson seems to be that the Communist ideology provided the motivation for an unprecedented massacre of men, women and children.’” [The Years of Hunger, p. 441.]

We concluded: 

We do not absolve Stalin from responsibility for the famine. His policies towards the peasants were ruthless and brutal. But the story which has emerged in this book is of a Soviet leadership which was struggling with a famine crisis which had been caused partly by their wrongheaded policies, but was unexpected and undesirable. The background to the famine is not simply that Soviet agricultural policies were derived from Bolshevik ideology, though ideology played its part. They were also shaped by the Russian pre-revolutionary past, the experiences of the civil war, the international situation, the intransigent circumstances of geography and the weather, and the modus operandi of the Soviet system as it was established under Stalin. They were formulated by men with little formal education and limited knowledge of agriculture. Above all, they were a consequence of the decision to industrialise the peasant country at breakneck speed. [The Years of Hunger, p. 441]

One of the reasons why we felt so confident that the situation had changed and that the views of those like Conquest who had earlier argued that the famine had been caused by Stalin on purpose were no longer tenable was because we had the rare experience of hearing from our main opponent that he had changed his mind. Conquest had been sent a pre-publication copy of our book to review, and to our amazement he wrote to us saying that he would give us a good review, provided that we corrected one thing in our conclusions. He asked us to publicly state that it is not his opinion “that Stalin purposely inflicted the 1933 famine. No. What I [Conquest] argue is that with resulting famine imminent, he could have prevented it, but put ‘Soviet interest’ other than feeding the starving first—thus consciously abetting it.” We were delighted to comply with Conquest’s wishes and added his statement above to our footnote 145, and duly received Conquest’s blurb: “‘A truly remarkable contribution to research into this important field.’ Robert Conquest, Hoover Institution.”

At this point we really thought that we were emerging from the Cold War historical distortions. If Conquest himself now denied that the famine was caused on purpose, how could anyone continue that argument?

Little did we know. In Ukraine, James Mace, my old friend Stanislav Kul’chitskii and the Ukrainian Parliamentary Commission would continue to claim that the famine was not only caused on purpose, but was a genocide. They would later be joined by Timothy Snyder (2011) and Anne Applebaum (2017). Surprisingly, they all cited Conquest as one of the major authorities to justify this claim. I have tried to object to the false references to Conquest and to the swell of popularity that these claims have had, but they have continued and now the war in Ukraine has added to the public pressure to accept the incorrect and simplified view that Russia has always harboured genocidal views against Ukrainians. The genocide thesis certainly had a boost with increasing anti-Russian attitudes, and now the war has super-charged the boost.

CW: Can you speak on the historical origins of the claim that the famine that occurred in the Soviet Union in 1932-1933 was an ethnically targeted genocide and explain how the statistics that became available after 1991 helped to conclusively refute such claims?

SW: “Genocide” has all kinds of definitional problems. It is much easier to speak of purposive killings of large groups of people, selected for ethnic or other reasons.

Let us recall that we started from a position where the Soviets were totally denying that there was a famine at all. At that point, it was a question of was there a famine or was there not a famine. That soon then became a question of whether the famine was “man made”—but when they spoke of a “man-made” famine at that time, they meant was it a consequence of policy or was it a “natural famine” as a result of the weather. Within Ukrainian nationalist circles, and earlier under the Nazis, there probably had been claims of all sorts of things, but within academic circles the idea of purposive killing was not considered seriously.

Once the statistics became available [in the 1980s], and it became clear that there was a famine, no one was really denying that there was a famine and that it was largely the result of policy. That is when the debates about “purposive killing” began. In the United States, it was James Mace who was the first promulgator of that. I played some role at the time in criticizing him. The other one I remember quite distinctly is the Ukrainian historian Stanislav Kul’chitsky, who I have known for years. Kul’chitsky was the first Ukrainian historian I know who very distinctly wanted to talk about genocide, but at the same time he was opposing Robert Conquest’s figures on the scale of the deaths. We were planning to write an article together with Sergei Maksudov [Harvard University] on this until I pulled out once I realized that he was determined to use the word “genocide” to describe the famine.

Historians like Andrea Graziosi, who also uses the word “genocide,” emphasize the importance of punitive measures like the “black-boarding” of groups who failed to fulfill their plans of central grain procurement. But as I’ve pointed out, once data became available at the rayon [regional] level, and we could map fairly accurately where the famine was occurring, it was clear that the famine was not located in the major grain procurement regions. [In Soviet Ukraine] it was in the Kiev oblast, which is not a major grain procurement area and did not have many “black boards.”

That’s why I’ve offered the following hypothesis: something that does fit the facts, both the chronology and the geography showing why the famine was particularly serious in Kiev oblast. This was because Ukrainian failure to fulfill the grain collection plan resulted in reduced allocations of grain to the major Ukrainian city of Kiev.

Kiev city did not have much of its urban population on central rations. Only two factories had category one rations. Most of the population of this enormous city were not supplied by central grain supplies. It was consequently up to local agencies working within the confines of Kiev oblast, using decentralized collections after the ending of centralized grain collections, to provide the grain to feed the population of the city of Kiev. That is why there were such severe procurements carried out in Kiev oblast. As far as I can see, they were not centralized collections that were collected to ship out for Moscow. These were local agents collecting grain to feed Kiev city. Of course, Kiev city needed feeding because there was no grain from the rest of the country.

This does not lessen the seriousness of the situation, but it makes it far more difficult to argue that it was done on purpose. We are talking about complex processes that have consequences that people do not necessarily understand. But they [both central and local agencies] were determined to push ahead whatever the consequences. There was a ruthless lack of consideration. I still see it as criminal, but it is not purposeful or intentional murder or genocide. Historians can only continue to call it a genocide by refusing to unpack what is meant by genocide, and by ignoring the chronology and geography of where the most intense famine occurred.

There’s some confusion about the use of the term “Holodomor.” Holodomor literally just means “Hunger to the extent of death.” I am not in principle opposed to the word. Language develops over time when there is a need for greater precision. The Slavic languages are rather strange in having a relatively narrow spectrum of words indicating different degrees of hunger, in comparison with English or German. If it’s just used as a term for famine, there’s nothing particularly wrong with that. But extending that to a completely different phenomenon with this great national and spiritual significance is another matter. It sounds similar to the Holocaust, bizarrely.

CW: That’s not bizarre, it was intended. The reason why the Ukrainian nationalists pushed the term “Holodomor” in the 1980s was the rise of Holocaust research and the exposures in the 1980s of the role of Ukrainian nationalists in the genocide of the Jews. They were trying to equate the famine with the genocide of European Jewry.

SW: Yes, that is perfectly clear. That is also why [some Ukrainian nationalists and James Mace] insisted that the number of victims of the famine in Ukraine was 7 million, more than the 6 million [who died in the Holocaust]. These are parts of the origins.

CW: Timothy Snyder and Anne Applebaum effectively adopt the Ukrainian nationalist narrative of an ethnically targeted genocide in their works. Now these “narratives,” although disproven by your own work and that of other historians, are taught in schools. The German government has even banned denial that the famine was a “genocide.” The Ukrainian far-right routinely attacks and denounces those who insist on the historical truth about the famine. What, in your assessment, are the implications of this development for historical scholarship and historical knowledge?

SW: It’s not new. I think this is a second Cold War. The equivalent to Snyder and Applebaum for earlier generations was a figure like Robert Conquest. But during the first Cold War, Conquest was always more on the fringes of academe apart from the Hoover Institution at Stanford University. But there were many academics even at Stanford University arguing against the Hoover Institution, [opposing] that such a brazenly political, non-scientifically oriented organization should have a position within the university.

That there are Cold War ideologues who are writing histories that are extraordinarily popular is not new. What is new is the collapse of the academic discipline of history in the face of that. The Hoover Institution’s position within academia—even within Stanford—is a symbol of what’s now happening across the entire discipline. I remember the surprise during perestroika when Gorbachev, during his first visit to America, insisted that he should go and visit not a decent academic institute but, actually, Hoover Institution. That seemed to give it a kind of boost.

Having lived through the first Cold War, when I had many academic debates with Robert Conquest, in some regards the situation is very different. There has been a shift in the historical profession which has made people less interested in trying to understand what really happened, because that is talking in old fashioned objectivity terms and one doesn’t do that. 

The profession is now more interested in what it “felt like.” What it “felt like” to be a victim, what it “felt like” to be the grandmother or mother who lost her children, or siblings in the famine, etc. I do not want to diminish their personal losses and tragedy, but I do think we’ve lost something. Maybe I’m an old fashioned economic historian who is still thinking in terms of trying to be objective. I’m finding that I’m in a very minority position within much of the discipline.

CW: What you describe is very much bound up with the dominance of postmodernism—the concept that there is no objective truth. Of course, one cannot fully reflect the objective truth as a historian, but one can approach it and must seek to study it as a historian. Instead, everything is reduced to opinions, feelings, how people see the world, and not, as you said, what actually happened.

This goes beyond the field of history, in fact, but it has perhaps the most damaging impact in history. This also legitimizes people like Snyder simply changing their position from one day to the other without even offering anything approximating an explanation. Timothy Snyder was once asked in Berlin why he no longer mentioned the Ukrainian fascist leader Bandera in Bloodlands,even though he wrote an entire book about the crimes of the Ukrainian far-right earlier. He responded, “In one’s life, one writes many books.” This may be something a fiction writer can say, but not a historian. If you change your assessment as a historian, which may at times be necessary, you have to provide documentary evidence and justification.

SW: Yes, in Conquest’s times, it was clear that he had been employed by the British government in a position which was concerned effectively with producing anti-Soviet propaganda. What we’ve got with Applebaum and Snyder is more a “journalistic” approach of trying to find things that will respond to various audiences. It would, in fact, be difficult to treat Applebaum as a real historian. She was just a journalist who at a certain point decided to write for a different audience. By contrast, with Snyder’s earlier writings, you can see that he was a historian, although he’s moved towards a more populist approach.

CW: I’d like to come back to the question of what that means for the historical profession and the intellectual climate. The Ukrainian far-right, as I’m sure you are aware, is exerting immense pressure in academia. There are funding issues involved, but it’s more than that. You will have also heard that, in a parallel development, Polish historians of the Holocaust are now routinely attacked by the far-right.

SW: Yes, and the Stephen Cohen affair in the US—that was absolutely monstrous, the way in which the American Slavic profession responded to him just because he advocated friendlier ties with Russia. It’s perhaps one of the biggest examples of how things have gone completely off the rails.

[Stephen Cohen was a professor of politics at New York University and well-known public intellectual. A biographer and admirer of Nikolai Bukharin, he opposed the anti-Russia witch-hunt in the US media, exposing some of its most glaring contradictions and lies, and warned of a war against Russia.]

CW: He was persona non grata by the end of his life. 

SW: It’s odd. I suffered quite a bit back in the 1970s and 1980s by debating Conquest—it got pretty robust at various times, but it’s gotten a thousand times worse since then. I’d very much like to find a way in which we could discuss things without getting out of control. 

CW: What, in your view, is the way forward for the writing of Soviet and Russian history?

SW: It’s very important to treat Russian history like other histories. Unfortunately, now, totalitarianism theories are making a comeback and we have crude, ethnically oriented tropes.

A removal of that Russian and Soviet exceptionalism would be a good thing. Soviet and Russian history should be integrated more with the history of Germany, Sweden and other countries. If we’re going to have a spread of genocidal theories starting in Ukraine, moving to Kazakhstan and other places, we’re not getting into the objectifying, normalizing study of the country on a scientific basis.

Last week I was in Sweden and Finland, where I was talking with local historians about the 1860s harvest failures in the Baltic area, trying to fit parts of the Russian Empire that were affected into that history. It is important to treat them as countries having similar problems to neighbouring countries regarding the impact of weather, the politics of relief measures and the ensuing demographic and epidemiological consequences. I would like to extend such work into the 20th century, comparing Russian and Soviet food problems in World War I and World War II with those in other countries, and comparing Soviet and Chinese food problems in the early stages of their forced industrialization, and I have already done some work on these. ^[1]

CW: Thank you very much. I appreciate that you took the time to do this interview. I think it is important for historians like you to speak up and contribute to a change in the cultural and intellectual climate that is so urgently necessary.

SW: I’d like to thank you. I am very sympathetic to your views and the way you have been checking references that have often been wrongly applied. Perhaps I’ve been getting a bit lazy in my old days, thinking that I fought my battles earlier on and that there’s no need to keep on fighting them, but maybe one ought to keep going.

Link here.

By Nicolai Petro, Responsible Statecraft, 10/23/23

Nicolai N. Petro is Professor of Political Science at the University of Rhode Island, and the author of The Tragedy of Ukraine: What Classical Greek Tragedy Can Teach Us About Conflict Resolution (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter,

Sergei Sivokho, Ukrainian peace activist, succumbed to chronic asthma and passed away on October 17. His name was not well known outside Ukraine, perhaps because, in these angry times, he sought to reconcile Ukrainians rather than drive them apart.

One wonders if, in the end, this big bear of a man died of a broken heart.

Sivokho rose to political prominence thanks to his close personal friendship with Volodymyr Zelensky. He was the creative producer of the comedy show Kvartal 95 and after Zelensky’s unexpected victory, the newly minted president tried to get him to run for public office. Sivokho, originally a native of Donbass, asked instead to be appointed advisor to the National Security and Defense Council of Ukraine with the remit of advising on humanitarian policies toward his native region.

Very quickly, however, he came to the conclusion that peace in Ukraine had to be approached from a radically different perspective, namely by putting an end to what he termed “the war inside our own heads.”

According to Sivokho:

“More terrible than the coronavirus is the virus of hatred. It is important to change not only the attitude of the state to its citizens, but the attitude of people to each other . . . What my team is doing is trying to incline people to mutual understanding . . . because the peace that we are all seeking begins in the hearts of minds of every Ukrainian.”

At first Sivokho’s optimism was echoed by Zelensky himself. At the 2020 Munich Security Conference, and later at the Forum on Unity in Mariupol, Zelensky called for “a massive national dialogue,” where people could discuss their common future face-to-face. To this end, he endorsed Sivokho’s pet project — a National Platform for Reconciliation and Unity — which was formally presented to the public on March 12, 2020.

That presentation, however, lasted just 20 minutes, because a gang of some 70 young people from the National Corps (the civilian wing of the Azov Battalion) stormed into the hall, and with shouts of “traitor,” pushed Sivokho until he fell to the ground. Sivokho was fired from his advisory government position two weeks later.

It may seem odd that even before Russia’s invasion, merely mentioning reconciliation and dialogue could arouse so much anger, until one realizes that what Sivokho was actually asking for was a fundamental shift in Ukrainian political thinking. In his mind, Ukrainians had to recognize that they all bear some measure of responsibility for the conflict in Donbass, and specifically for dehumanizing the Other Ukrainians, those who do not think or talk the way they do.

Such policies, he argued, began well before 2014. His words aroused intense anger among Ukrainian nationalists, who were further outraged by his assertion that, “the time has come to correct mistakes, to forgive and to ask for forgiveness . . . to talk to the people living in the uncontrolled territories.”

After being fired, and despite threats on his life, Sivokho persisted in his peace efforts until the very end. Over time, he became increasingly critical of government policy, though never of his longtime friend, Zelensky. He called for changes to the Ukrainian language laws that severely restrict the public use of Russian. He said that the government’s refusal to implement the Minsk Accords had led Ukraine into a dark and isolated corner.

He even revealed publicly that the rebels had made a formal proposal to return nationalized companies to their Ukrainian owners, and to have the contentious “special status” for Donbass end in 2050, and he rebuked the Ukrainian government for refusing to even talk to the rebels.

Rather than prohibiting contacts between local officials across the contact line, Sivokho urged them to talk to each other. “Imagine,” he says, “how they would rejoice and sorrow together. If they were only allowed to return there, they would restore their villages on their own, from both sides. What a fantastic example that would be!”

His last public battle was to prevent passage of the draconian law “On the Basics of State Policy in the Transition Period,” sponsored by then Minister for Reintegration of the Occupied Territories (later Minister of Defense), Oleksiy Reznikov. Sivokho complained bitterly that the Reznikov Plan, which was approved by the Cabinet of Ministers in August 2021, treated the Ukrainians in Donbass and Crimea as a conquered people.

Rather than allowing animosities to subside, he said, this would ensure that they are passed on to future generations. The rebels themselves would be long gone, but like Banquo’s Ghost, their spirit would still haunt Ukraine’s future, an impertinent reminder of the Other, Russophone Ukraine, that Ukrainian nationalists would still be busily trying to erase.

Some Ukrainian nationalists will rejoice at the demise of this inconvenient Ukrainian patriot who fought tirelessly to overcome the country’s divisions by preaching mutual forgiveness. His personal quest for peace may now be over, but we should all hope, for Ukraine’s sake, that his mission is taken up by others.

By Christopher Layne & Benjamin Schwarz, The American Conservative, 10/16/23

Washington’s explanation for the Russo–Ukrainian war is simple. As President Biden told the United Nations General Assembly in September 2023, “Russia alone, Russia alone bears responsibility for this war.” As we demonstrate, this simply is not true. To understand why the Russo–Ukrainian war began, and the obstacles to ending it, it is necessary to examine the war’s American origins. These are: the George H.W. Bush administration’s failure to give more economic assistance to support Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev’s economic reforms; the failure, at the Cold War’s end, to dissolve the two hostile alliance systems it spawned and replace them with a new post–Cold War European security architecture; the decisions of the Bill Clinton and George W. Bush administrations to undertake NATO expansion; Washington’s specific promise, first made at NATO’s 2008 Bucharest summit and repeatedly reaffirmed, that Ukraine would become a NATO member; and the strategic and ideational underpinnings that have guided U.S. grand strategy toward the Soviet Union/Russia since the 1940s.  

The Biden administration and the broader foreign policy establishment dismiss the notion that the causes of this war are complex. Rather than multiple causes, they believe the Russo–Ukrainian war’s cause is simple: Vladimir Putin. Discussions of the war are framed solely around Putin as an individual. An example is the frontpage headline in the December 18, 2022, New York Times promoting an eponymous special section of the paper: “Putin’s war.” The U.S. foreign policy establishment apparently has forgotten that Russia is a state, the policies of which are shaped by its history, geography, and political culture. Indeed, it would not be a surprise to learn that the denizens of the foreign policy Blob have removed the word “Russia” from their maps and rechristened that geographic space “Putinania.” As Washington sees it, the Ukraine war stems solely from the actions of an aggressive autocrat. This view neatly fits the Biden administration’s narrative—deeply rooted in America’s foreign policy tradition—that international politics are reducible to a struggle of  “good” states (democracies) versus “bad” states (non-democracies).

The focus on Putin as the sole driver of events misses a lot of the story. To be sure, as Russia’s leader, his decision to greenlight the all-out invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 (and the 2014 seizure of Crimea and support for the Russian separatist uprisings in Donbas) is indeed the conflict’s proximate cause. He makes a convenient villain, though nothing like the overwrought comparison some make with Adolf Hitler. However, as important as Putin is, his views are not anomalous among Russians. By pinning the blame for the war on Putin alone, in effect personalizing the conflict, American and European policymakers have shorn the war of its geopolitical and historical context. The exclusive focus on Putin as a causal agent also distorts how the American foreign policy establishment thinks about both the war’s conclusion and Russia’s future. This was evident during the June 2023 Prigozhin mutiny, which raised short-lived hopes that Putin would fall from power and the door would be open to the emergence of a liberal democratic Russia.

Even if Putin were removed from power in the Kremlin—which seems to be one of the Biden administration’s unstated war aims—Russia’s foreign policy would not change much. As Georgetown University professor Angela Stent, who was national intelligence officer for Russia and Eurasia in the George W. Bush administration, wrote in her book Putin’s World (2019), singling out Putin as the necessary and sufficient cause of Moscow’s foreign policy “oversimplifies how Russia is ruled. Behind the new tsar stands a thousand year-old state with traditions and self-understanding that precedes Putin and surely will outlast him.” For these reasons, Stent writes, “it is an illusion to believe that Russia will markedly change in the course of the twenty-first century.” 

That Russia and Ukraine came to blows will not have surprised anyone with knowledge of the tumultuous period between the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 and the Soviet Union’s breakup in December 1991. The potential for war was foreseeable, and foreseen, in Moscow, Kyiv, and Washington. The details of the Soviet Union’s demise have been brilliantly chronicled by Vladislav Zubok, professor of international history at the London School of Economics, in his deeply researched new book Collapse: The Fall of the Soviet Union (2021).  

Gorbachev’s domestic reforms were catalyzed by the Soviet Union’s failing economy. Instead of reviving the Soviet economy, his policies accelerated its collapse. The economic crisis had important geopolitical consequences: it hastened the weakening of the Kremlin’s central authority, which fueled rising nationalism and separatism in the Soviet Union’s constituent republics, especially Ukraine and the Baltic states. This created openings for ambitious and opportunistic politicians like Boris Yeltsin and Leonid Kravchuk, who became the first presidents of the Russian Federation and of an independent Ukraine. Here, Russia was the victim of what turned out to be a Faustian bargain struck by Yeltsin. To remove Gorbachev from power, thereby clearing the path for him to take command of the Kremlin, Yeltsin supported the Soviet breakup and Ukrainian independence. As Stent notes, he did not think through “the security implications of ushering in an independent Ukrainian state.” In short order, Yeltsin had the geopolitical equivalent of buyer’s remorse.    

The failed August 1991 coup against Gorbachev fast-forwarded events. Kravchuk, a longtime Soviet functionary, recast himself as a champion of Ukrainian nationalism, as did other senior Ukrainian apparatchiks. They used the coup as an opportunity to declare Ukrainian independence, which was proclaimed by the Rada (Ukrainian parliament/Supreme Soviet) and confirmed in December 1991 by a referendum and by Kravchuk’s election as president. 

Throughout this process, Yeltsin and top Russian leaders around him voiced concerns about the fate of Crimea and the Donbas, and even Odessa, which they viewed as historically Russian territories. Dark allusions to the Yugoslav breakup were made. In November 1991, when told by a top adviser that the upcoming Ukrainian referendum would result in a strong pro-independence vote, Yeltsin was disbelieving. “It cannot be true!” he exclaimed. “This is our fraternal Slavic republic… Crimea is Russian! All the people who reside eastward of the Dnieper gravitate to Russia!”

Watching these events from his perch as the British ambassador to Moscow, Sir Ronald Braithwaite observed that “perfectly sensible Russians froth at the mouth” at the notion of Ukrainian independence. Relations between Russian and Ukraine, he said, were “as combustible as those in Northern Ireland: but the consequences of an explosion would be far more serious.” In a memo, Gorbachev aide Georgy Shakhanazarov urged the Soviet leader, still clinging to power in the Kremlin, to declare that Crimea, Donbas, and southern Ukraine “constitute historical parts of Russia, and Russia does not intend to give them up, in case Ukraine leaves the [Soviet] Union.” 

The George H.W. Bush administration has been praised for skillfully navigating the geopolitical turbulence caused by the Soviet Union’s disintegration. A closer look reveals that in key respects its Soviet policy was deeply flawed. To his credit, in his August 1991 “Chicken Kiev” speech, Bush recognized the risks of “suicidal nationalism” and attempted to dissuade Ukraine from breaking away from Moscow. Similarly, Secretary of State James A. Baker III was concerned that Ukrainian independence could lead to conflict over Crimea and Donbas. NSC staffer Nicholas Burns (now U.S. ambassador to China) warned that the independence of the Soviet Union’s republics would create a “crazy quilt” of geopolitical hot spots, including Crimea. However, having diagnosed perceptively the dangers of a Soviet breakup, the administration failed to take steps that might have forestalled these dangers. 

The Soviet Union’s economic crisis was inextricably linked to its unraveling, because the “sense of economic doom became the main driver of separation,” Zubok writes. Washington knew that the Soviet Union faced a grave economic crisis. At the December 1989 Malta summit, Gorbachev told Bush that the Soviet Union needed loans from the West to avert economic collapse. Zukok argues that Gorbachev had a “window of opportunity” to implement economic reforms successfully. That window quickly shut, and one of the key reasons was the “lack of tangible Western support.”   

Read full article here.

By Matt Stoller, Substack, 10/20/23

Welcome to BIG, a newsletter on the politics of monopoly power. If you’re already signed up, great! If you’d like to sign up and receive issues over email, you can do so here.

Today, as the U.S. is drawn into wars in Israel and Ukraine, as well as the defense of now-peaceful Taiwan, I’m writing about war. Not the policy choices, or whether U.S. military power is a net force for good or ill, but the actual practical machinery behind the American defense base that produces the weaponry necessary to sustain the military.

As stockpiles dwindle, there is now widespread agreement among policymakers that America must rebuild its capacity to arm itself and its allies. But according to a new scorching government report released this week, that’s mostly just talk. The Pentagon doesn’t bother tracking the guts of defense contracting, which is who owns the mighty firms that build weaponry…

…And now, let’s talk the defense base. Here’s an exceptionally boring chart that involves all the money in the world. Welcome to the Pentagon.

One of the more important side stories to the recent wars in Ukraine and Israel, and competition with China over Taiwan, is that the U.S. defense industrial base, composed of 200k plus corporations, is being forced to actually build weapons again. Defense is big business, and since the end of the Cold War, the government has allowed Wall Street to determine who owns, builds, and profits from defense spending.

The consequence, as with much of our economic machinery, are predictable. Higher prices, worse quality, lower output. Wall Street and private equity firms prioritize cash out first, and that means a once functioning and nimble industrial base now produces more grift than anything else. As Lucas Kunce and I wrote for the American Conservative in 2019, the U.S. simply can’t build or get the equipment it needs. There are at this point a bevy of interesting reports coming out of the Pentagon. The last one I wrote up earlier this year showed that unlike the mid-20th century defense-industrial base, today government cash goes increasingly to stock buybacks rather than actual armaments. And now, with a dramatic upsurge in need for everything from missiles to artillery shells to bullets, we’re starting to see cracks in the vaunted U.S. military.

The signs are unmistakable. In Ukraine, fighters are rationing shells. Taiwan can’t get weapons it ordered years ago. The Pentagon has put together a secret team to scour stockpiles to find high-precision armaments in demand on every battlefield and potential battlefield. But the problem goes beyond national defense. In Lake City, Missouri, the largest small arms ammunition plant in the world has decided all ammo production is going to the military, meaning that there is going to be a domestic shortage for hunters, sportsmen, and maybe even police. This shortage may look like a story of a sudden surge in demand, but it’s actually, as Elle Ekman wrote in the Prospect in 2021, a story of consolidation and de-industrialization.

Surges due to wars aren’t new, and there’s always some time lag between the build-up and the delivery. But today, the lengths of time are weirdly long. For instance, the Army is awarding contracts to RTX and Lockheed Martin to build new Stinger missiles, which makes sense. But the process will take.. five years. Why? What is new is Wall Street’s role in weaponry. We used to have slack, and productive capacity, but then came private equity and mergers. And now we don’t. The government can’t actually solicit bids from multiple players for most major weapons systems, because there’s just one or two possible bidders. So that means there’s little incentive for firms to expand output, even if there’s more spending. Why not just raise price?

But don’t take my word for it, take that of the Pentagon. In 2022, the DOD reported that “that consolidation of the industrial base reduces competition for DOD contracts and leads DOD to rely on a more limited number of suppliers. This lack of competition may in turn increase the risk of supply chain gaps, price increases, reduced innovation, and other adverse effects.” And that’s why, more than a year into the Ukraine conflict, the ramp-up is still not where it needs to be.

This week, the Government Accountability Office (GAO), which is a Congressional office charged with investigating problems in government and business, explained why. The GAO came out with a report on how the Pentagon is doing essentially zero oversight of Wall Street’s acquisitions of defense contractors. The title is as boring as you’d expect, designed to have few people pay attention, but offering a red-alert to procurement officials.

The report is simply jaw-dropping. Despite all the chatter about consolidation at high levels within the Pentagon, and in Congress, the bureaucracy has made essentially no progress whatsoever. For instance, we have a trillion dollar defense budget, but there are just two people in the Department of Defense who look at mergers in the defense base. You couldn’t staff the morning shift of a small coffee shop with that, and yet two people are supposed to look at the estimated four hundred mergers plus going on every year among defense contractors and subcontractors.

Four hundred mergers every year is a lot, but of course, that’s just an estimate. Why don’t we know how many acquisitions happen in the defense base? As it turns out, it’s an estimate because the Pentagon isn’t tracking defense mergers anymore. To put it in boring GAO-speak, Pentagon “officials could not say with certainty how many defense-related M&A now occur annually because they no longer track or maintain data on all M&A in the defense industrial base.” So the DOD is almost totally blind to the corporate owners of contractors and subcontractors, which might be one reason that, say, Chinese alloys are being discovered in sensitive weapons systems like the state of the art F-35.

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It gets worse. There’s no policy or guidance on mergers, and DOD doesn’t even require contractors or subcontractors to tell them that there is new ownership when an acquisition occurs. In fact, the Pentagon relies on public news to learn of mergers. They often do not know that the mergers are going on, or that the Federal Trade Commission is reviewing them. When big mergers happen, even if the Pentagon is concerned, no one tracks what happens after it closes. They do no analysis of industry sectors, as their “M&A office is not collecting robust data or conducting recurring trend analyses that could help them identify M&A in risky areas of consolidation among defense suppliers.”

The Pentagon’s head-in-the-sand approach is why Lockheed now has a chokehold on nuclear missile modernization, since it bought the key supplier of rocket engines and denies those engines to rivals bidding for the contract to upgrade what is known as the nuclear triad.

So how does the U.S. government manage defense base mergers? Well, the Pentagon defers to the antitrust agencies to look solely at competition. “While DOD policy directs Industrial Base Policy and DOD stakeholders to assess other types of risks, such as national security and innovation risks,” wrote the GAO, “they have not routinely done so.” Basically, dealing with their own defense base is someone else’s job.

What I found most useful about the GAO report is the Pentagon’s response, a classic bureaucratic hand wave. The DOD agreed with all the conclusions of the GAO. It should track mergers and what happens afterwards, it should have more personnel doing so, it should consider national security aspects of corporate combinations, and it should have clear policy on mergers. But it doesn’t. The DOD says it will have a better strategy to deal with mergers… by 2024. Basically, you’re right, but it’s not our problem.

Every day, it seems like political leaders and consultants are saying it’s time to really get that arsenal of democracy going, and to re-industrialize for real. It’s quite possible to get a lot done. The FTC and DOJ now have significant amounts of national security-related information on mergers due to a Congressional change in pre-merger notification laws in 2022, so the DOD could easily do a better job of tracking what’s happening in the defense base.

More to the point, the Pentagon is very powerful. The Deputy Secretary of Defense, Kathleen Hicks could simply start smashing heads on competition and begin telling contractors that if they don’t shape up, she will start an internal war against them. Or the head of the Armed Services Committees could threaten the cushy cash flow that leads to record stock buybacks among contractors, if the ramp-up doesn’t start. Or they could grant antitrust authority for the DOD straight-up, which would rely on a national security standard that allows widespread corporate restructuring without the long slog of a court case. There are many paths.

But if you actually look at the guts of the bureaucracy, nothing is happening, because doing something about our industrial base means thwarting Wall Street, and that’s generally not something that’s considered on the table among normie policymakers. Giant bureaucracies are hard to change, but they are not immovable. One of the ways that you know a previously non-functional bureaucracy is on the right track is, ironically, if there is bitter infighting and anger among staff, who are being tasked to do things differently. But as the GAO showed this week, that’s just not happening in the Pentagon, or at least, not happening nearly fast enough.

And that’s why America is increasingly out of ammunition.