Lunacharsky - Theses on the policy of the RCP in the field of literature

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Theses on the policy of the RCP in the field of literature

Typescript. CPA IML , f. 142, op. 1, unit, hr. 31, ll. 36–48.

Published according to Literary Heritage, Volume 74, 1965, pp. 29–37

For the preface to the publication, see: Unpublished Articles on Soviet Literature

I
At present, in the field of literature, fortunately, that view of the continuity of culture, which can rightly be called Lenin's, has been completely established. Lenin devoted many thoughtful words to explain to both the Komsomol and everyone else the idea of the absolute necessity to rely on the already acquired human culture, despite its class character. Lenin emphasized the inevitability of this in the field of exact sciences and in the field of social sciences, where bourgeois sociology, political economy, archeology, ethnography, statistics, etc., must be taken as material for our own conclusions. He insisted on the most careful study of all elements of the ideological culture of the bourgeoisie and thought that only from their further development, refracted in a peculiar way by the revolution, could gradually be born what is called proletarian culture. Lenin vigorously warned against precocious, invented, artificial "proletarian cultures" and against the manifestation of communist and workers' swagger under the pretext of intensifying the class struggle against bourgeois ideology. In clashes between our politically excellent cells of higher education institutions and professors, which Lenin often and directly called "bourgeois", he, even at moments of malicious strikes by these professors, invariably took the side of the latter and in response to my remark at a meeting of the Central Committee that the cells were filled with hatred for the bourgeois professors and involuntarily interfere with the work of reconciliation and the establishment of any normal work with her, replied: "We absolutely need scientists, the cells must be torn to insensibility." Of course, I could not fail to remember this very convex phrase.


So far, only in the field of the theater we have a real revelry of demagoguery and more than in any other year. Some comrades, acutely ill with the disease of leftism, instilled in the worker correspondents these same views on the class struggle in the theater and on the fact that the representatives of the old theatrical art are class enemies - views that are in direct break with the general instructions of Vladimir Ilyich and even with those two phrases which he dropped specifically regarding the theatre. one

But at least in the field of literature, on this side, things are quite well. Perhaps there are some extreme leftists who deny the need to study the classics and learn from them, but such phenomena are obviously insignificant. From the very beginning, the entire UAPP (and the former NAPs) adopted the point of view of the continuity of culture in this regard, and this point of view has only strengthened in recent times.

Thus, in the realm of literature in the proper sense of the word, there is no dispute over the fundamental question of the organic development of our literature on the basis of the classics and populists. This, of course, does not mean, as everyone understands, that we condemn our writers to imitate, to imitate our classics and populists, it only means that the magnificent language, keen observation of social reality, the breadth of ideological generalizations that are characteristic of Russian literature in its most high rises, should be the basis for its further movement, which will probably lead to even better achievements and, of course, will be colored differently in connection with completely new conditions of life, new principles and new ideals.

What is important is to establish that the literature that best suits the mass readership, rising from the depths of the proletariat and peasantry, is literature close to the best examples of our classics and populists. So, there seems to be no dispute about this. In fact, the best works of our revolutionary literature are undoubtedly connected precisely with the classics and populists, partly through Gorky and his group.

II
Much more controversial is the question of living old writers, who in the past sometimes had quite a lot of literary fame. These include A. Bely, Zamyatin and A. Tolstoy and some other old writers, Pilnyak, who joined them entirely and was spoiled to a large extent by them, the Serapionists, etc. There are two completely opposite points of view here. On the one hand, Comrade Voronsky, in my opinion, undoubtedly exaggerates the importance of these people who declared themselves fellow travelers. Some of them are internally, no doubt, hostile to us. Others (for example, A. Bely), perhaps, are trying to get into the tone of the revolution, very energetically shaking off the emigrantism from themselves, but they can’t do this in any way due to a completely different set of their entire psyche. In this group of writers who have changed milestones, one can hardly find at least one who would really consciously do his literary work in the name of the revolution. It can be said with certainty that if they were given complete freedom of speech, a complete guarantee of impunity for everything that they would write, then from their pen would come horrific attacks on our entire system and way of life, which, of course, are subjective to them. would seem to be the most real artistic truth. The best thing, of course, for such writers is to hide behind apoliticalism, to insist that art has nothing to do with politics and should not have anything to do with it. At one time, Zamyatin acquired great influence on a group of young Serapion writers. These writers (N. Tikhonov, Zoshchenko, Nikitin, and others) have gone through all the storms of the revolution and have seen enough of its truth. According to the very pace of their lives, according to the properties of their nervous system, already nurtured by the revolution, they could become revolutionaries, and sometimes quite acceptable pages come across in their writings. But everyone remembers with what disgusting disdain these writers treated the great politics of our day, declaring that they were not at all interested in politics, 2 and no doubt many of this talented group (this especially affects Tikhonov) have not yet been able to find a real way . In Tikhonov's book "Braga" one came across magnificent poems, significant both in the socio-political sense and beautiful in form, and now he writes some kind of verbal confusion, so that one wonders how the editors put these painful things.3 There is no doubt that Tikhonov, for example, was ruined by the bad examples of old writers, in particular, by the very gifted, but extremely unintelligible and not suitable for our era, B. Pasternak.

Voronsky's thesis that these major "fellow travelers" can, so to speak, build the main backbone of our post-revolutionary literature is completely wrong. It is absolutely impossible to recommend them as teachers of style, manner, approach. Even A. Tolstoy, the most acceptable among them and closest to the classics, treats vital material with a kind of mischievous frivolity. His talent sometimes gives him the opportunity to wittily note some social relationships, but the complete lack of theoretical training or even serious thoughtfulness makes his works annoying, and the position that he can be a teacher of our new writers, strange. 4 Thus, I cannot in any way agree with the assessment of the Smenovekh writers as the main element of our literature.

But, on the other hand, an attack on these people as a major class enemy, as dangerous distributors of bourgeois infection, etc., a call to limit their writing rights, subject them to more severe censorship, and not provide them with any state support etc. (and all this was transparently seen in the positions of the Napostists), also does not meet with any of my sympathy.

We need a broad, flourishing and diverse literature. Of course, the censorship must not allow the overt counter-revolution to pass through. But with the deduction of this, everything talented should find the freest possible access to the book market. Only if we have such a broad literature will we have a real mouthpiece in front of us, into which all layers and groups of our vast country will speak, only then will we have sufficient material both in the subjective statements of these writers as representatives of these groups, and in objective observations of our reality taken from different points of view. Below I specifically speak of censorship and criticism, and then it will become clear under what conditions I consider such freedom in the development of literature useful.

Conclusions: Smenovekh writers should be considered a very valuable element of literature, not only should they be given freedom of creativity, but also given certain support, without which, in the years we are going through, the writer can hardly perform his functions. At the same time, however, this group must be regarded as a group socially alien to us, as epigones of the classics, largely saturated with the juice of bourgeois decadence that set in before the revolution both in the West and in Russia.

III
It seems to me that the group of so-called "genuine fellow travelers" (following the terminology of Comrades from the WAPP) raises less disputes. This includes, above all, the two most brilliant literary talents that we now have: Leonov and Seifullina. These names define the type of writer that I have in mind now. You can count a lot of them.

If we were to give way to Zamyatin and Pilnyak as teachers, then we might be afraid of the distortion of these talents, who instinctively guess the right path, but still by no means can be qualified as the initiators of communist literature. Their presence is the best way to show that it would be a terrible mistake to close the circle of literature with only communists or only people who in their literary works meet all the expectations of the party and its exact programmatic. The latter demands are harmful to the highest degree even for communist and proletarian writers, as will be discussed below. The emergence of remarkably bright talents among the sons of individualistic philistinism, among the non-Party democratic intelligentsia, is not only possible, but it is evident.

Leonov, despite his young years, is, of course, the greatest writer of contemporary Russia. Such people will have to endure a considerable struggle. Two souls live in their chest. Perhaps, in some respects, the Smenovekhites can play the role of a seducer here, but it is much better if this struggle goes on completely openly. The Smenovekhites hypocritically or clumsily approach the demands of our epoch. But, undoubtedly, some threads are connected with the hostile classes by a group of genuine fellow travelers, which is much closer to us. She can't help but hesitate, and let her hesitate. Natural phenomena cannot be stopped. But one can increase one's influence on them, in particular, as mentioned below, by properly organized Marxist criticism.

IV
Apeculiar group of such "genuine fellow travelers" are Lefovites, former futurists. I consider Futurism an undoubted product of bourgeois decadence. For quite a long time, at the end of the last century, there was a disintegration of art, which began in France, and partly in Italy, its disintegration into basic elements, separation from reality, separation from representation, separation from ideology, separation from healthy feeling. At first, this art also had a dull or metaphysically abstract character, and then it acquired a certain lift. Futurism introduced into it an accelerated urban pace, activity, and a heightened sense of life. This coincided with an upsurge in the mood of the bourgeoisie caused by its entry into the imperialist period of development.

Futurism is undoubtedly a product of the imperialist upsurge in the vitality of the bourgeoisie. Its pointlessness and lack of ideas reflect the soullessness, internal unjustification of imperialism, which has no ideal and simply represents the convulsions of the bourgeoisie, doping and arming for the upcoming battles that have become inevitable.

But the bourgeoisie did not everywhere recognize its Futurist sons; it often held on by virtue of its inert (?) conservatism of the old form of art. This alone could, under favorable conditions, push the young intelligentsia, which unfurled the banner of Futurism, into the ranks of the enemies of the bourgeoisie. In essence, the typical futurist intellectual does not give a damn about politics. He needs to make a cheerful noise in colors, sounds and words, thus reflecting the energetic tone of city life. In a country like Russia, where the proletariat has come to victory, or in Germany, where it has approached it several times, often the futuristic bohemians follow his banner and intend to serve him. At the same time, of course, it cannot be denied for a moment that individual units, especially in such an incandescent revolutionary atmosphere as ours,

There are two propositions that are highly harmful in Lef's aspirations. The first is the alleged rejection of art and the desire to replace it with so-called production principles.

Far from denying art that produces things, we cannot fail to state the enormous need of the proletariat for ideological art that organizes its thoughts and feelings. The Komfuts, still struck by the lack of ideas of the bourgeois world from which they emerged, naturally did not feel capable of organizing the feelings and thoughts of the proletariat. Therefore, they easily took the position of craftsmen working things to order. From this point of view, Brik's preaching was extremely harmful and remains so. The second extremely harmful feature of the komfuts is that they spit on the past and try to break the connection of the new culture with the old, with its best manifestations, with the classics, etc., that is, they do just that, they call just for that, against which Lenin so energetically warned.

On both these points the most energetic rebuff to the Lefists is necessary. But at the same time, it should be noted that Lefovites, as a product of urban culture, as young people who are not interested in the fate of the ruling classes, can undoubtedly be related to proletarian writers. The mood of their creativity, their inherent thirst for effect, the brightness of their colors, the protest clamor of their noisy poetry should not be completely rejected by us. All these traits can easily be the decoration of a bourgeois cabaret, but they can also find their place in proletarian culture. Moreover, such a culture grows only out of clashes of opinions and trends. Therefore, one should not restrict the freedom of creativity of Lefites. On the contrary, it is not surprising that some proletarian writers assimilate certain findings and features of futuristic art. It would be absurd to deny the great talent and great literary significance of Mayakovsky and the undoubted talent of Tretyakov, Aseev and others. Futurists in practice (especially Russians) are generally much better than in theory. Often their practice sharply contradicts their theory, which, of course, can only be welcomed. From their ranks may emerge, in the end, complete and very important representatives of that revolutionary literature for which we all yearn.

V
As for the proletarian writers, there seems to be little controversy. Everyone is aware that a certain number of great poets have come out of their midst, of which the young ones (Bezymensky, Zharov, Doronin) are especially encouraging, that good fiction is also beginning to develop among them. Proletarian writers are growing. Everyone agrees that their growth cannot but be difficult, that among the worker correspondents there are, of course, talented people, but it takes time before they master the technique of writing. Everyone agrees that proletarian writers should be given all possible support. The union of the VAPP of all groups of proletarian writers must be welcomed in every possible way. This association indicates that the UAPP, or rather its central group, the Napostists, have abandoned their overly irreconcilable positions. One can, of course, assess the rate of growth of proletarian culture and its future dimensions in different ways. Personally, I belong here to the optimists. I believe that proletarian literature is developing at a rapid pace and is acquiring great importance. I think that a link with the advanced peasantry is highly desirable and possible here. These communist writers, or at any rate Soviet revolutionaries, may soon form the central group of our literature. It is from here, of course, that the most powerful currents will flow, influencing the periphery, including the major writers who will be nominated by the non-party system (Leonov, Seifullina, and others). From this point of view, the role that the WAPP assigns to this literature does not seem to me exaggerated. The state does little for these groups of writers, in particular for the proletarian cult.

I do not think that the well-known disposition of proletarian writers against the Smenovekhites, and even more so against bourgeois literature, was harmful, even if it was hidden behind a mask of universal humanity. This reflects a healthy class instinct. What the VAPP, communist and proletarian writers must be warned against in every possible way is an overestimation of their own merits, all sorts of signs of arrogance, an unwillingness to seriously learn from the greatest examples of our and foreign literature, and similar traits that are completely natural under the circumstances. Of course, the Naposto group took at first too sharp a polemical position and saw in vain any dangerous deviations in the policy of the Party and, in particular, in the activities of Voronsky. In general, Comrade Voronsky adhered to the same line that the People's Commissariat of Education adheres to and which I consider the only correct line, which, on the whole, was actually approved by the Party. It would have been possible to insist more calmly on the rights of the builders of a purely proletarian culture, but the sudden attack, in which one cannot help but perceive a certain attack of leftist illness, caused an undesirable reaction from the other side as well. Tov. Voronsky unexpectedly took the position of theoretically denying the very possibility of proletarian culture. He extraordinarily overestimated the right flank of his fellow travelers and undoubtedly underestimated the young growth of proletarian literature. All this together created a kind of fiction of an intra-Party dispute about proletarian writers. On closer examination, it seems to me that there is no subject for dispute here. I am especially surprised that the dispute flared up with particular force at the time when, at the Thirteenth Congress, the party adopted a resolution on party policy in literature, in which I saw complete confirmation of the line of the People's Commissariat of Education and, in general, of all party and Soviet institutions that pursued literary policy. What was new in the directives of the 13th Congress was only the recommendation to be especially attentive to the needs and demands of worker-peasant writers.5

I have also been informed of a note by VAPP prepared for the Central Committee of the Party. I completely agree with this note. 6

To avoid misunderstandings, however, I must say that some positions of the WAPP have recently aroused alarm in me. Thus, the article by Demyan Bedny, which Pravda found it necessary to accompany with comments and which fully deserved the said comments, was an undoubted overreach. 7 In general, the unconditional support of the last conference of proletarian writers (quite natural, of course) somewhat turned the heads of the leaders of the UAPP and pushed them again towards demagogy, from which they should refrain in every possible way. UAPP resolution published by Pravda for information purposes is overly harsh 8and tries in vain to identify the political position of Trotsky with the line of Voronsky and even of all party comrades who do not stand on the point of view of the UAPP. Trotskyism, of course, is a danger to the Party and has met with a proper response from it, but trying to eliminate any disagreement by qualifying the views of opponents as Trotskyist is a useless device. In this sense, the leaders of the UAPP and Oktyabr should straighten out their tactics to the very end, and on no account succumb to demagogy and arrogance. <…>

VI
About criticism. The relative freedom of literature we need will be harmless, or even extremely useful, if we can organize an influential Marxist critique.

There are quite enough people in our ranks who can take on this responsibility. But for the first time, the greatest degree of organization and discipline in the field of Marxist criticism is necessary. We cannot allow discord here, neither excesses of strictness, the bilious captiousness of individual critics, nor the connivance of vague comliberalism. Censorship must be somewhat relaxed, but Marxist criticism must be given a certain severity. Marxist criticism in a period when all literature and every writer is experiencing both the forces of proletarian ideology and the influence of petty-bourgeois life, the bad sides of the cultural past, is obliged to help understand this. Every work of literature of any significance must find a thoughtful assessment, not indiscriminately abusive (with rare exceptions), not glorifying (with rare exceptions), but versed in the social and formal elements of this work, untying the knot in which both the old and the new are intertwined in front of readers. Such a node is the majority of current literary works.

At the same time, Marxist criticism, in a series of studies that are completely clear and authoritative, must reconsider the basic values of the past, both positive (classics and populists) and negative (all decadence, formalism, futurism, etc.). I cannot immediately point out practical ways to do this. It is unlikely that such a way would be the organization of a special critical journal. His circle of influence would be narrow. It would be more correct to take care that in all our magazines and newspapers a good complete critical department should be organized, which should be, at least at first, under the strictest control. Perhaps it would be rational for these departments to establish some kind of central editorial commission, which would re-read the corresponding articles and notes, taking care of the strict adherence to the correct Marxist line. One must not regret giving to this work a fairly considerable part of the time of three or four comrades who are quite authoritative. In any case, it is clear to me that the most significant articles of our Marxist criticism, which, of course, are signed by the author, must have behind them the authority of the leading circles of the Party and therefore must be verified by it. Less significant articles, reviews in any case, should be assigned the special responsibility of editors who enjoy sufficient confidence. Literature begins to acquire enormous social significance. We need literary critics again; no one can provide us with critics of the caliber of Belinsky or Dobrolyubov, the caliber does not depend on us, but the role of our criticism must again be approximately the same as the role of these teachers of the Russian intelligentsia. I'm only tentatively suggesting possible paths. I consider the organization of a union of critics-Marxists, following the example of the union of revolutionary playwrights,9 only with narrower limits, an union that includes only seasoned Marxists, to be an absolutely necessary step. It would be easiest for such an alliance to find ways to improve our criticism. I can't help but touch on one more thing. In a strange way, our current, rather disorganized criticism meets with unusual bitterness some of the attempts of communist writers. This is completely incomprehensible.

Let us assume that this or that communist writer presented ideologically or artistically... 10

<1925>

Obviously, Lunacharsky has in mind what Lenin told him in personal conversations when it came to the need to preserve all the best theaters in the country (see V. I. Lenin on Literature and Art. Moscow, Goslitizdat, 1957, p. 591 and 592).
In 1922, the Serapionists appeared in No. 3 of the Literary Notes magazine with an article by L. Lunts “Why we are the Serapion Brothers” and autobiographies, which contained the defense of the right to freedom of artistic creativity from politics.

Lunacharsky repeatedly criticized this philistine flirtatiousness of the Serapionists with lack of ideas (for example, in the 1923 article "Wilhelm Hausenstein", published in the journal Art, 1923, No. 1), but it was clear to him that the artistic practice of most members of this group was much more progressive than theirs. declarations.

Speaking at one of the debates in 1924, Lunacharsky spoke of these young writers, “often proud of their social illiteracy and apoliticality, but nevertheless, with great talent, sometimes even brilliance, occupying a very definite place in our modern literature, reflecting the new life "(" Issues of literature and dramaturgy. Dispute in the State. Ak. Maly Theater. L., "Academia", 1924, p. 11).


This refers to such works by N. Tikhonov in the mid-20s as the poems “The Road”, “Face to Face”, “Reds on the Araks”, etc., in which the deliberate complexity and artificiality of the poetic form sometimes led to slurred language and destruction image.
A. N. Tolstoy shortly before this returned from emigration, where, since 1921, he was a member of the Smenovekhov group “On the Eve”. By the time these "Theses" were written, he had not yet created those of his works that put him in the forefront of Soviet writers. The very next year, 1926, Lunacharsky mentions A. Tolstoy among the writers "who are undoubtedly an auxiliary detachment of the revolution" (Pravda, 1926, No. 100, May 1). In another article this year, he called A. Tolstoy a great writer who "often thrillingly poses the problems of the day in artistic form" (see this volume, p. 42).
At the XIII Party Congress, held in May 1924, the resolution "On the Press" was adopted. The 19th paragraph of the resolution noted: “The promotion and material assistance to proletarian peasant writers <...> must be strengthened in every possible way” (“On the Party and Soviet Press”, Collection of Documents. M., Pravda Publishing House, 1954, p. 310).
We are talking about the draft resolution “On Proletarian Literature”, sent in February 1925 to the Commission of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the RCP (b) and signed on behalf of the board of the VAPP and MAPP by I. Vardin, F. Raskolnikov, A. Bezymensky, G. Sannikov, Yu Libedinsky, F. Gladkov, F. Berezovsky, G. Yakubovsky, Dm. Furmanov and G. Lelevich.
This refers to Demyan Bedny's speech delivered on January 6, 1925, at the opening of the First All-Union Conference of Proletarian Writers (published under the title "On Proletarian Literature" in Pravda, January 15, 1925). The notes “from the editorial board” indicated that Demyan Bedny was falling into “compromise” and “Napostovsky nihilism”, putting forward such a thesis about proletarian literature as “Let three snotty ones, but their own” - and treating many literary figures as enemies.
The resolution of the First All-Union Conference of Proletarian Writers, which took place in January 1925, was published for informational purposes in Pravda No. 26 of February 1, 1925. Lunacharsky considered some of the provisions of this resolution to be incorrect, in particular the assertion that “fellow fiction is basically a literature directed against the proletarian revolution.
Lunacharsky actively participated in the creation of the Union of Revolutionary Dramatists and was its chairman. In "Izvestia" dated April 27, 1925, a declaration of the Union was printed.
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