The Soviet Auto Giant

Author(s):  
Stefan J. Link

This chapter examines how the Soviet Union strove to acquire American mass production technology in order to create their own version of Fordism in the 1930s. It traces the origin and operation of one of the prestigious objects of the First Five-Year Plan: the automobile factory at Nizhnii Novgorod. After 1933, when the city changed names in honor of its scion Maxim Gorky, the Soviet River Rouge went by the official name of Gaz (Gor'kovskii Avtomobil'nyi Zavod); but to the Soviet press, it was known simply as the “Auto Giant.” The chapter then follows four men who helped the Auto Giant awaken and rise. Economist Nikolai Osinskii pushed through an ambitious agenda for Soviet motorization that culminated in the foreign technical assistance contract with the Ford Motor Company of May 1929. In fulfillment of this agreement, Stepan Dybets traveled to Detroit and led a group of Soviet engineers who were in charge of transferring Ford technology and know-how from the Midwest to central Russia during the years of the First Five-Year Plan. Meanwhile, as director of Gaz between 1932 and 1938, Sergei D'iakonov oversaw the uneven and troubled implementation of Fordism during the Second Five-Year Plan. Finally, Ivan Loskutov ascended to the helm of Gaz after Stalin's purges, and presided over the factory's redoubled embrace of Fordism in the late 1930s and World War II.

2012 ◽  
Vol 19 (2) ◽  
pp. 183-203
Author(s):  
Jason M. Kelly

While the United States Air Force systematically bombed the majority of urban Japan during the final months of World War II, the city of Kyoto remained nearly untouched, offering an almost pristine nuclear target. Yet Secretary of War Henry Stimson, the central figure behind the sparing of the city, struck Kyoto from the list of nuclear targets. Stimson’s efforts to preserve Kyoto have received only passing attention from postwar scholars. A review of relevant postwar historiography, however, reveals three frameworks that provide explanations for the sparing of the city: moralist, orthodox, and revisionist. The moralist approach views Stimson’s decision to preserve Kyoto as an effort to live up to the principles of an earlier era. Orthodox scholars suggest Stimson’s decision was driven by a desire to save lives and end the war quickly. Revisionists, by contrast, argue that Stimson’s calculus was shaped by concern over the growing specter of a standoff with the Soviet Union. The imprecise and at times contradictory explanations furnished thus far fail to provide a convincing interpretation of Kyoto’s role in the final years of the war. To understand Stimson’s adamancy requires examining references to the city in his diary and placing them into broader context to gain a sense of how the city related to the strategic objectives and challenges facing the secretary of war.


Author(s):  
Stefan J. Link

This chapter evaluates how both regimes of the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany put Fordism to use during World War II. William Werner's ascent to the commanding heights of Nazi Germany's wartime industrial complex illustrates how the state-led pursuit of mass production that began in the 1930s intensified under the conditions of total war. With greater force than before, the Nazi regime sought to bind industry to the war economy. The bureaucracy of the armaments began telling firms what to produce, how to produce, and whom to hire. Werner's career, then, sheds light on a crucial but little-explored realm of the Nazi war economy: the institutional interface that bridged the ministries and the shop floors. Like the Nazi war machine, the Soviet armaments industry had to find ways to achieve, in the words of William Werner, “higher output with fewer skilled workers.” How this worked can be illustrated by looking, once more, at Gaz.


Author(s):  
Stefan J. Link

As the United States rose to ascendancy in the first decades of the twentieth century, observers abroad associated American economic power most directly with its burgeoning automobile industry. In the 1930s, in a bid to emulate and challenge America, engineers from across the world flocked to Detroit. Chief among them were Nazi and Soviet specialists who sought to study, copy, and sometimes steal the techniques of American automotive mass production, or Fordism. This book traces how Germany and the Soviet Union embraced Fordism amid widespread economic crisis and ideological turmoil. The book recovers the crucial role of activist states in global industrial transformations and reconceives the global thirties as an era of intense competitive development, providing a new genealogy of the postwar industrial order. The book uncovers the forgotten origins of Fordism in Midwestern populism, and shows how Henry Ford's antiliberal vision of society appealed to both the Soviet and Nazi regimes. It explores how they positioned themselves as America's antagonists in reaction to growing American hegemony and seismic shifts in the global economy during the interwar years, and shows how Detroit visitors helped spread versions of Fordism abroad and mobilize them in total war. The book challenges the notion that global mass production was a product of post-World War II liberal internationalism, demonstrating how it first began in the global thirties, and how the spread of Fordism had a distinctly illiberal trajectory.


2019 ◽  
Vol 19 (24) ◽  
Author(s):  
Mart Velsker

Artikkel käsitleb linnade kujutamist Nõukogude Eesti luules aastatel 1940–1955, analüüsimiseks on võetud sel ajal ilmunud luuleraamatud. Eestis kuulutati siis üldkehtivaks kirjanduslikuks meetodiks sotsialistlik realism. Esteetilised printsiibid kujunesid siiski kirjandusliku praktika käigus, sageli kirjutati luuletusi Moskvast ja Leningradist ning nende eeskujul õpiti kujutama ka kohalikke Eesti linnu eesotsas Tallinnaga. Linnaruum – nagu teisedki stalinistliku kultuuri komponendid – oli politiseeritud, mis tähendas esimeses järjekorras sakraliseeritud ruumimudeli ülekannet tekstidesse.   The article aims to give a survey of cities and urban spaces appearing in Soviet Estonian poetry of the Stalinist period. All in all, 93 Estonian-language collections of poetry were published in Soviet Estonia between 1940 and 1955, but not all of these contained urban topics.  Estonia was occupied by the Soviet Union in 1940 and this brought about an abrupt change in literary texts produced in the country because literature had to take into account the regulations imposed by the doctrine of Socialist Realism and the personality cult of Joseph Stalin. In connection with this, representations of urban space became ideologised in a novel manner. It is difficult to tease forth explicit aesthetic prescriptions from the doctrine of Socialist Realism, but a unified aesthetics was developed in the course of literary practice by authors who copied one another in order not to err unwittingly. The political surveillance of literature increased at the turn of the 1940s and 1950s; it is in this period that the most pronounced standardisation of modes of representation can be observed. Several cities are mentioned in Estonian poetry of the Stalinist era, but implicit rules governing the depiction of urban space become most readily evident in case of five cities. Among these were the largest cities in Russia (Moscow and Leningrad, today’s St. Petersburg) and in Estonia (Tallinn, Tartu and Narva). Depictions of Moscow and Tallinn are the most numerous. Representing Moscow is subject to rules in a particularly noticeable way: the capital of the Soviet Union had to contain the overarching spirit of Stalin and Lenin, and the city was represented as the static central point of a superpower or even of the whole world. In the city space of Moscow, Red Square with Lenin’s mausoleum and the Kremlin emerges as a sacralised space. In comparison with Moscow, the image of Leningrad is somewhat more dynamic for the city is often evoked as the starting point of the 1917 revolution, and Leningrad also appears as a city important in connection with World War II. Representing Tallinn proceeded from the understanding that the capital of the Estonian SSR had to be an unmediated reflection of the power emanating from Moscow. The representations of Tallinn are more varied, though, for the authors more often tended to have a personal relationship with the city. The most important landmark emerging in representations of Tallinn is the medieval tower of Tall Hermann on Toompea hill that serves as the most important flag tower in Estonia. Even in Stalin-era poetry Tallinn was often perceived as ‘ancient’, (the epithet ‘old’ is repreated in many poems), which is partly paradoxical as the pathos of Socialist Realism would prefer to speak of the birth of new cities. The paradox was resolved by introducing a dialectics of ‘old’ and ‘young’ cities; solutions were also offered in the so-called poetry of reconstruction that encouraged the removal of wartime ruins and the erection of new buldings. As concerns other Estonian cities, some poems focus on Narva as a significant industrial town. Tartu had been important in the earlier national history, but its significance waned now that Tallinn’s was rising. Tartu’s reputation as a university town survived into the Soviet period, however, and even the poetry of the Stalinist era contains some depictions of academic life. The urban centres of both Tartu and Narva suffered major damage in World War II, but the ruins receive only scant mention in verse. Still, they are not hidden and war is a recurring topic in the case of both cities. Depiction of large cities, huge spatial elements and city centres suited the poetry of Stalin’s era. Small towns seemed meaningless in this context and outskirts only obtained a meaning in case events of the past were described – thus, slums, represented as the living quarters of workers close to the city limits, would harbour a revolutionary spirit. In the case of contemporary Soviet cities, the outskirts played no particular role, as all the politically favoured meanings were located in the centre. A couple of publicatons specifically underscored the significance of cities, e.g the thematic anthology The Heart of the Homeland: Poetry Dedicated to Moscow by Estonian Authors (1947) and two books dedicated to Tallinn, Debora Vaarandi’s The Old Man from Lake Ülemiste and the Young City Builder (1952) and Paul Rummo’s A Letter from Tallinn (1955). The era’s most significant urban poets include Johannes Barbarus, Debora Vaarandi, Paul Rummo, Mart Raud, Ralf Parve and Vladimir Beekman. The modes of expression of these authors may vary, but their individual styles are less clearly expressed than is usual in poetry, because different authors’ styles became relatively uniform due to the canonised aesthetics of Socialist Realism.


Author(s):  
Marianna Kmeťová ◽  
Marek Syrný

After the German campaign at the beginning of World War II (1939), Poland was divided between nazi Germany which occupied the west and center of the country, and the Soviet Union which occupying the Eastern regions. The controversial relationship with Moscow has seen several diametrical breaks from a positive alliance after the invasion of the Soviet Union by the Axis powers in 1941, to a very critical relationship with the USSR after the revelation of the so-called Katyn massacre in 1943. With the approach of the Eastern Front to the frontiers of pre-war Poland, massive Polish Resistance was also activated to get rid of nazi domination and to restore of pre-war Poland. The neutralization of possible claims by the Soviets on the disputed eastern areas (Western Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania), respectively to prevent the crushing sovietization of Poland, it was also intended to serve a clear and world-wide resistance act in the sense of liberating at least Warsaw from the German occupation. This was to prevent the repeat of the situation in the east of the country, where the Red Army and the Soviet authorities overlooked the merits and interests of the Polish Resistance and Polish authorities. The contribution will therefore focus on the analysis of the causes, assumptions, course and consequences of the ultimate outcome of the unsuccessful efforts of the Armia Krajowa and the Warsaw inhabitants to liberate the city on their own and to determine the free post-war existence of the country.


Author(s):  
Benjamin Tromly

During the height of the Cold War in the 1950s, the United States government unleashed covert operations intended to weaken the Soviet Union. As part of these efforts, the CIA undertook support of Russian exiles, populations uprooted either during World War II or by the Russian Revolution decades before. No one seemed better prepared to fight in the American secret war against communism than the uprooted Russians, whom the CIA directed to carry out propaganda, espionage, and subversion operations from their home base in West Germany. Yet the American engagement of Russian exiles had unpredictable outcomes. Drawing on recently declassified and previously untapped sources, Cold War Exiles and the CIA examines how the CIA’s Russian operations became entangled with the internal struggles of Russia abroad and also the espionage wars of the superpowers in divided Germany. What resulted was a transnational political sphere involving different groups of Russian exiles, American and German anti-communists, and spies operating on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Inadvertently, CIA’s patronage of Russian exiles forged a complex sub-front in the wider Cold War, demonstrating the ways in which the hostilities of the Cold War played out in ancillary conflicts involving proxies and non-state actors.


1999 ◽  
Vol 53 (3) ◽  
pp. 537-565 ◽  
Author(s):  
Vally Koubi

Because of the nature of modern weapons, significant innovations in arms technology have the potential to induce dramatic changes in the international distribution of power. Consider, for example, the “strategic defense initiative” (SDI), a program initiated by the United States in the early 1980s. Had the program been successfully completed, it might have led to a substantial devaluation of Soviet nuclear capabilities and put the United States in a very dominant position. It should not then come as a surprise that interstate rivalry, especially among super powers, often takes the form of a race for technological superiority. Mary Acland-Hood claims that although the United States and the Soviet Union together accounted for roughly half of the world's military expenditures in the early 1980s, their share of world military research and development (R&D) expenditures was about 80 percent. As further proof of the perceived importance of R&D, note that whereas the overall U.S. defense budget increased by 38 percent (from $225.1 billion to $311.6 billion in real terms) from 1981 to 1987, military R&D spending increased by 100 percent (from $20.97 billion to $41.96 billion). Moreover, before World War II military R&D absorbed on average less than 1 percent of the military expenditure of major powers, but since then it has grown to 11–13 percent. The emphasis on military technology is bound to become more pronounced in the future as R&D becomes the main arena for interstate competition.


2021 ◽  
Vol 53 (4) ◽  
pp. 691-702
Author(s):  
Firoozeh Kashani-Sabet

In 1946, the entertainer and activist Paul Robeson pondered America's intentions in Iran. In what was to become one of the first major crises of the Cold War, Iran was fighting a Soviet aggressor that did not want to leave. Robeson posed the question, “Is our State Department concerned with protecting the rights of Iran and the welfare of the Iranian people, or is it concerned with protecting Anglo-American oil in that country and the Middle East in general?” This was a loaded question. The US was pressuring the Soviet Union to withdraw its troops after its occupation of the country during World War II. Robeson wondered why America cared so much about Soviet forces in Iranian territory, when it made no mention of Anglo-American troops “in countries far removed from the United States or Great Britain.” An editorial writer for a Black journal in St. Louis posed a different variant of the question: Why did the American secretary of state, James F. Byrnes, concern himself with elections in Iran, Arabia or Azerbaijan and yet not “interfere in his home state, South Carolina, which has not had a free election since Reconstruction?”


Author(s):  
Vēsma Lēvalde

The article is a cultural-historical study and a part of the project Uniting History, which aims to discover the multicultural aspect of performing art in pre-war Liepaja and summarize key facts about the history of the Liepāja Symphony Orchestra. The study also seeks to identify the performing artists whose life was associated with Liepāja and who were repressed between 1941 and 1945, because of aggression by both the Soviet Union and National Socialist Germany. Until now, the cultural life of this period in Liepāja has been studied in a fragmentary way, and materials are scattered in various archives. There are inaccurate and even contradictory testimonies of events of that time. The study marks both the cultural and historical situation of the 1920s and the 1930s in Liepāja and tracks the fates of several artists in the period between 1939 and 1945. On the eve of World War II, Liepāja has an active cultural life, especially in theatre and music. Liepāja City Drama and Opera is in operation staging both dramatic performances, operas, and ballet, employing an orchestra. The symphony orchestra also operated at the Liepāja Philharmonic, where musicians were recruited every season according to the principles of contemporary festival orchestras. Liepāja Folk Conservatory (music school) had also formed an orchestra of students and teachers. Guest concerts were held regularly. A characteristic feature of performing arts in Liepaja was its multicultural character – musicians of different nationalities with experience from different schools of the world were encountered there. World War II not only disrupted the balance in society, but it also had a very concrete and tragic impact on the fates of the people, including the performing artists. Many were killed, many repressed and placed in prisons and camps, and many went to exile to the West. Others were forced to either co-operate with the occupation forces or give up their identity and, consequently, their career as an artist. Nevertheless, some artists risked their lives to save others.


Sign in / Sign up

Export Citation Format

Share Document